#this entire thing is a shitpost and it’s really long

[lxcke]

@killerlittlerejects: The Master Post

As you all know, I love to sit back and watch things unfold before bringing up an opinion. I don't really talk a lot, but when I do, there's usually something very serious going on. Well, today's the day I air out all that dirty laundry @killerlittlerejects has been desperately trying to keep under wraps. KLR, you've got multiple GROUPS of victims spanning back entire years, and they've all got a lot to say about you, girlie. I know what you did, and I'd love to share with the class your hypocrisy, lies, and long history of bullying.

After hours of research and conversations with your various victims, it's clear you have a pattern:

You catch wind of a target when they say something you don’t like.

Proceed to make it your entire personality for months to years at a time.

Shitpost, stalk, harass, and threaten this target completely out of left field.

Bask in the attention until your victim catches onto what you’re doing.

Get called out and play the perfect little angel victim against all the allegations.

Block block block, ignore, deflect, and/or fandom-hop to the next clean slate.

Repeat.

I don't tread lightly with my words when I tell you that this chick is psychotic. She's been caught stalking, with not two, not three, not four, but SEVEN known alt accounts. My team has had to sit down as a group and block a total of sixteen other related accounts to this person in an attempt to get her and the people associated with her fully off our back, and we're still not sure if that's all of them. Her cyberstalking habit has gotten to the point of police reports being filed on her. Twice.

This chick has pushed people into getting the police involved.

So, for one, harassing someone over something as simple as writing, attempting to stir up a little hate group against one of the biggest Cluster B artists on Tumblr, is scummy and comes off like you are clout farming. You've gone from what I thought was a bad case of keyboard-warrioring to one of the vilest attention whores I've ever been forced to witness beg on this platform.

You thought you could get away with trash-talking a man who has openly stated he has a disorder that affects how he communicates, who has openly said he uses his art as a coping mechanism, and who has openly made it clear he creates for those without a voice in the ASPD community. To me, and to many others, it looks like textbook middle-school bullying. You clocked him as an easy target, someone you thought you could overpower, banking on him either staying silent or slipping up just enough to hand you more ammo.

You thought. Bitch.

I've made other posts about this. Much more civil posts. Much more genuine attempts to connect and level with you, but you're just not getting the hint. There are way more people than you know of who will defend this good man with everything they have because he has done them nothing but kindness. You want to sit here and police everything Anton does when you don't even know him, nor have made efforts to, all because you need a punching bag. Every time he so much as breathes wrong, you got something to say, and I'm so fucking over it.

It’s honestly pathetic how you refused to just block the guy like a normal person. Instead, you lurk like some bargain-bin PI, desperate to dig up more dirt to whine about. It’s also incredibly suspicious to me that both Anton’s and my accounts went under a mass report review out of nowhere after nothing but complete normalcy, and not even twelve hours later, you're back at it after MONTHS of supposed radio silence on our end. I genuinely thought we were good up until now. You don’t “get dragged into drama” like you love to bitch about, you light the match and dive headfirst into the gasoline, then cry that it burns. You’ve spent every waking moment trying to paint yourself as some pure little victim while you stir shit behind the scenes. Now that the truth's out? You're flailing and mass-blocking like that’s going to save you. It's always your move: deny, deflect, block, repeat, a predictable little meltdown from someone who thought they’d never get called out by more than just those involved in your little game.

I’m not gonna name names, dox, threaten, or send people after you, because I’m not like you. I was nice to you, dude, but I’m not going to continue and let my team grovel at you and your circle’s feet and beg for forgiveness. These kinds of serious accusations from troves and troves of people, especially since their stories all line up with ours, really makes me wonder…

Anton hasn’t done shit to you or anyone else, and frankly, I’m fed up with your bitch ass tone, instigating other creators in the fandom to come up with insane rumors and accusations, and acting like you know the motherfucker’s “dark secrets” when all of you and your flying monkeys are completely clueless. None of you want to take any of the WOMEN in his circle seriously, blatantly ignoring what we’ve all had to say in favor of your self-righteous circle jerk. I’m not an angry person. I don’t normally do this. I’ve never even been involved with internet drama like this in my entire internet career, but you. You’re on a lot of people’s shitlist. YOU KINDS OF PEOPLE ARE THE REASON I LEFT THE FANDOM YEARS AGO. This is nothing new to me!

So, let me just… go through some of the shit you’ve been spewing here.

Everything you’ve posted reads like a tantrum wrapped in fake concern?? If you’re “scared” to post and need to open with a “no harassment” disclaimer, it’s obviously just drama you’re trying to dress up as activism. You complain Anton makes people “walk on eggshells,” but really, he just has standards and refuses to turn his project into your Tumblr fanfic fantasy land. You want to sit there and claim “oh that’s not the case and they’re bad boys!!!” but then get pissed when they become too disturbing for your taste. You’re mad that he actually has a backbone, not that he's some fandom dictator. Claiming he “shames” anything that doesn’t fit his vision? Of course he does… it’s HIS project. It’s HIS blog. It’s HIS space, and you are actively stepping into his online space and then crying about it??

Anton isn’t responsible for memorizing every bad Wattpad rewrite you cling to like scripture. Calling him a hypocrite for using shock value when he’s actually writing horror and not some pity party is insane; using shock to unsettle is what real horror authors do. You just can’t tell the difference because your taste was formed by creepypasta TikToks and 2010 dance AMVs. You even admit the fandom was never realistic, yet you’re mad that Anton had the audacity to actually do something different with it. 

Anton didn’t “mistype” to cover his ass, he had to clarify because people like you twist everything into a federal crime scene the second you get confused. You think pointing out that he criticizes other Jeffs is a gotcha…? No, he critiques, that’s allowed. We all know that and we’re not fucking stupid, bitch. What YOU are doing is attempting to destroy Anton’s name with baseless but HUGE accusations getting stirred up on your blog. None of us EVER tried to do this kind of shit to you. Now the cat’s out of the bag because you just couldn’t leave us alone.

As for the Leech and Tyrant situation: he's writing a toxic dynamic on purpose to show how evil it is, not to endorse it. If you can't handle seeing morally bad characters doing bad things without thinking it’s an endorsement, you’re not fit to be talking shit. And accusing someone of guilt just because they edited a post is the dumbest middle school logic imaginable. You’re not exposing anything real here. You’re just pissed that Blessed Be the Wicked isn’t the fandom-safe, pastel-coated story you wanted. You didn’t "catch" Anton,  you exposed yourself as someone too lazy to engage with actual horror storytelling and too entitled to realize you aren’t owed anything.

You have never bothered to investigate further into Blessed Be The Wicked’s messages. Your "criticism" about how "violence isn't maturity" is laughable, no shit, but Anton isn't just throwing gore around for shock, he’s showing broken characters being broken, which is leagues more thoughtful than pretending Jeff just needed a hug. You ramble about feminism like it has anything to do with Anton's work when it doesn't. And your complaints about “spite” and “hatred” are projection at its finest, dude, you are the one bashing Anton publicly. Anton talks about the fandom, his takes, and his arts. You encourage people to call him an incest supporter, a creep, and a misogynist. In the end, you admit you don’t know anything about his actual story. You tuned out, you didn’t engage, and you decided your shallow personal grudge mattered more than facts. That’s not critique, bitch, that’s straight selfism.

Look at Terrifyer 2. Look at Hostel. Look at literally any fucking horror movie. Anton’s level of gore/sexuality in his work is like a goddamn tea party. You’re acting like a fucking baby. You admit you were emotionally unstable when you wrote your original hit piece (no surprise there), but you still cling to your outrage like a little fucking kid. You’re mad because in early drafts, two characters were written to be the same person (not literal twins,) or mentor-apprentice, and in later drafts they were rewritten, as if that’s some cardinal sin in storytelling. You PURPOSEFULLY took that literally to cause shit.

Rewriting and evolving relationships is called developing a story, not "one-upping yourself." Then you reach for the laziest grenade you could find. "It’s misogyny!!!! Look guys it’s misogyny!!!! It’s bad!!!" As if screaming misogyny without evidence somehow makes your whining valid. You tried the "healing art isn’t for the internet" take, which is such a bad-faith, selfish argument it’s practically villainous. Anton sharing art he worked through trauma with doesn’t obligate him to babysit your feelings. I’m sure we can all agree that we hold art close to our hearts in one way or another and want to share that. Your grand finale on one of these latest posts is calling yourself an "ignorant cunt" like it’s a badge of honor. Fine. Self-awareness is the first step to recovery. Stay there.

The guilt-tripping lately is Olympic-level. Someone from her asks apologized for accidentally fanning the flames, and KLR practically threw a pity party. She claims it’s "not their fault," but immediately shifts to passive-aggressively blaming us for daring to defend ourselves, because how dare people try to keep an innocent man’s name clean? Then she acts like a martyr, whining about being "singled out," even though she was the one who reignited an old drama with a new post. Actions, consequences. Not a hard concept dude, come on. She says she’s "upset it escalated," like she’s just an innocent bystander, when she chose to publish drama-bait and knew exactly what kind of response it would get. You’re not a victim of some grand scheme; you're just messy, and now the mess splattered back on you.

After stirring the pot until it boiled over, KLR pulled this AWESOME classic internet martyr move: announcing a dramatic "signing off" like she’s some war hero going into exile. She cries that blocking people somehow wasn’t enough (because her victims have to silence themselves just to make her comfortable). She insists she’s “safe” and “not self-harming,” fishing for sympathy, doing that bullshit manipulative undertone of accusation that we’re threatening her SAFETY??? while conveniently ignoring that her side started the harassment, ableism, and dogpiling over personality disorders. “I’m not suicidal guys!!!” Motherfucker, nobody said ANYTHING about coming over to hurt you. You’re projecting.

Then, just like clockwork, she wraps it all in a syrupy "you are loved, have fun, be creative" speech, because nothing says emotional manipulation like trying to look wholesome right after turning a fandom into a battleground. If she wanted things to calm down, she could've stopped months ago. But no, she kept kicking the hornet’s nest and now wants a parade for "stepping away." The Oscar is in the mail.

So, let’s look at the receipt here:

Saw Anton’s views she didn’t like → obsessed over them.

Months of “poking the bear,” shitposts, stirring the pot, supposedly dropping vague DMs from alts, keyboard warrior shit.

Ramped up the disinformation campaigns and ableism when she didn’t get the attention she wanted

Played "truth-teller" while getting ego boosts from followers.

Anton’s defenders decided to FINALLY clap back after finally getting sick of it.

Immediately switched to "I’m scared 😭 I did nothing wrong!!" mode.

Blocked critics, played dead online. Prepping for a comeback in a different fandom probably as we speak.

Yup, that checks out. She’s textbook. Not "misunderstood." Not "scared." Not "traumatized into lashing out." She's a professional abuser LARPing as a martyr and I am not about to sit here and let her continue to abuse not only my lover, my friends, and myself, but the fandom I grew up in and hold dear. 

I’ve got THIRTEEN individual people in my inbox telling me all about you, and I’m so happy to know that it’s not us, it’s you. Fuck you.

Sincerely,

Locke

[skidcd-megamix]

Doodles that have gathered mold. Made for the purpose of sharing with the rats in your garden so please, watch them chow down!

[buttercupshands]

*looking at isat ss discord* my power of being silly got out of control

or how I tried understanding rpg maker basics by literally trying to do one (1) thing I really wanted to see ever since seeing Loop unused sprites lying on wiki months ago

the reason I mentioned isat ss discord was simply bc guys were the first people who saw me trying to draw close to pixel sprite face sprite for Loop to,,, do something at some point just to see how it works

and nope I'm not making this into anything, but I really like the fact that I managed to do this

(now with video post edited into this sentence!)

[sublimati0ns]

daily koss #29: if we only have one shot… better make it count, right?

Since I started on the 18th of February, today marks the one month anniversary of me drawing these wretched old men every day!!! I wanted to make something special for it, so I tried my hand at a comic (even though I am NOT good at comics—dear god, paneling is so unintuitive for me that I ended up wrangling this into a webtoon format just to avoid it).

Despite the increasing level of render and polish on my dailies over the past two weeks, this is the first time I’ve really, actually tried to flex my art muscles and apply my braincells to a piece 😂 Here’s to hoping my work paid off! I have now, officially, moved from low-effort shitposts to real-effort seriousposts 😔

(Also, if you’ve never read a webtoon before, hopefully the long-scroll format wasn’t too jarring! >_<)

A meta aspect I love about KOSS is that Transformers is a multi-timeline franchise: Knock Out and Starscream exist across multiple different continuities, sometimes alongside each other, sometimes not. But they only really ‘work’ in TFP, despite them both having other characters as constants (Breakdown, Megatron). If this were any other world, and they were any other versions of themselves, they might not even have been coworkers—just ships passing in the night.

And yet, the perfect storm of random events led to them being in one thing together, with a compelling dynamic at that (even an entire episode that puts it on blast!!!). Sometimes I think about how, according to the TFP artbook, Knock Out was originally conceived as something of a counterpart to Bumblebee—another fast, pretty car, except a villain this time—but the writers ended up fleshing out his relationship with Starscream the most. I wonder what the thought process behind that was—did the devs find their dynamic fun to play with as well?—and whether the two would get more moments together if Prime wasn’t cancelled…

But I digress! The fact I discovered TFP in the first place is the cherry on top of the serendipity-cake; I never imagined I’d ever get into Transformers, but one impulsive ‘hey, what if we watched the new Transformers movie’ from Lacuna at 3AM in the dead of January changed the trajectory of my life.

I’ve always been really bad at committing to projects for over a month at a time—I often find myself burnt out and restless after only a few days, even. So to still have so much drive and inspiration to create fanworks—for KOSS, of course, but an assortment of other pairings and properties too—is such a novel and exciting experience. My tune may change at a moment’s notice (I can be very fickle), but for now I’m eager to keep scribbling on 🥰I already have something planned for the next week of Daily KOSS hehehe~

Anyway, things referenced in the comic!

G1 cartoon s01e13 “Fire in the Sky”

2019 IDW continuity Tread & Circuits issues 2, 3, and 4

Armada episode 48

TFA s02e03 “Mission Accomplished” and s03e13 “Endgame II”

2005 IDW continuity “Choose Me,” Spotlight: Megatron, and Annual 2017 “Chosen One”

And it’s probably obvious from the art, but I love the juxtaposition of Starscream being tortured by god in every other universe while Knock Out is either happily married or doesn’t exist.

[skzthelomlhehe]

Telling Lee Know you want a baby~

Welcome to my brainrot part two Lolol the picture of lee know holding that child is making me fucking flip cuz BRO LOOK AT THAT BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEE TWO BAYBEEES IN A FRAASAMMMMMEEEEE AND THE WAY HE LOOKS AT THE CHILD AAAAAAAAA (Do ignore my over excitement I'm in need of serotonin)

Anyways yeah that's that lol enjoy the little shitpost lmao

Warning: none that much, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, creampies, biting, oral (F recieving)

{apologies if I missed anything}

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationships // MDNI

Masterlist Total masterlist Tag Reqs:@arestoucries

Minho had finally come home from his practice. He was gone by 6 in the morning and by the time he came home it was already 7.

You were bored the entire time since it was your day off so you decided to indulge yourself in some silly magazines you bought on a whim.

Minho walked in to your room to see you lying on your belly, giggling and kicking your feet like a little girl. Squealing even.

You hadn't noticed him until you heard him set his bag down on the desk. You turned to look at him, your face stretched into an ear to ear grin.

Minho knew better than anyone that the look you had meant no well. He sighed, "what now?" You giggled again, scurrying to him with your magazine.

"baby look! A baby!" You squealed, holding the open magazine on his face showing pictures of babies. "Y-yeah I see that please put that down." He pulled down the magazing away from his face. "What about it?"

"gimme one!!" You demanded, that silly grin never leaving your face, a squeak following your demand. (This is very self indulgent cuz that's me rn) "A what??" He yelled. "Ah shh!! Calm down!" You shushed him.

"Ok ok- kitten- calm down-" (I can just imagine him going "aigoo koyangi calm down" or whatever Lolol) he gripped on to your shoulders, looking at you with serious eyes, "do you even know what you're saying??" You nodded excitedly in response, "I do!"

You flung the magazine to god knows where and wrapped your arms around his neck, "Come on babbyyyy~ we've been married for over a year now and I want you to shoot the good stuff inside me toooo~" you pouted. (Very self indulgent 💀)

He sighed again, gently placing his hands on your waist, "are you sure about this?" His voice in a concerned whisper. "Mhm! Don't act like you won't take this chance to absolutely ravage me in like two minutes, darling." You smiled.

Minho burst out laughing knowing damn well you were right and there's no way he could argue with that.

Feeling defeated, he sighed before chuckling and pulling you up in his arms. You squealed, wrapping your arms and legs around him and giggling. He held on to your butt, giving you a soft kiss as he walked you to the bed. (I have a thing for carrying to the bed idfk why)

He let both of you fall on the bed, his wet kisses trailing down your neck making you gasp. Oh how you loved the way his teeth grazed on your sensitive skin.

He unbuttoned your shirt, his lips gliding down your chest before attaching itself to your nipple. You whimpered, goosebumps running through your body.

He bit and sucked while fondling with the other. Your hands found his head, your fingers threading in his hair. You giggle feeling a bit ticklish, "seems like you're very ready for a little one~ you yourself are like a baby, Minho~" you mumbled.

He chuckled, his lips still on your breast making you feel ticklish all over again.

He went down again, kisses followed until he reached your belly. He dug his face on the plush flesh and blowed making you laugh. He really loved doing it for some reason. "What're you doooiiinnngg~" you whined. (Man am I tweaking in public rn I just imagined it gah darn)

His hands glided down to your hips, pulling your pajama pants down. You whimpered as you felt a gush of cold air on your bared lower half. It didn't take long for that cold to soon burn in pleasure.

Minho got down between your legs, staring at your dripping wet pussy like it was a work of art. Shyness overcame you, hiding your face in your hands.

You moaned as you felt his tongue sloppily licked your labia. Suckling at your swollen clit. He let himself savour every bit of your throbbing cunt.

Held on to his head, pushing him deeper knowing he enjoyed when you did so. He groaned as he ate you up. His tongue penetrating your hole. You shuddered under his touch. His beastly mouth that ravished you like you were his last meal.

His fingers made their way inside you while his mouth was busy sucking your slutty clit. You whined and moaned. Your eyes shut, back arched and your head thrown back.

He hooked his free hand under your thigh, grabbing you steady from squirming away. Your cunt throbbed more than ever, "a-aahh Minho... Im... Im cumming...!" You whined.

He shoved his tongue in deeper, as deep as he could. His fingers followed. Both his digits and his tongue messing you up.

With one loud moan you let loose on his face. Flinching and trembling from the stimulation. It's been a while since you guys fucked and your fingers barely held up.

He got up, his chin dripping in your fluids. He smirked, wiping his face with his thumb and licking it up in the sexiest way a man ever could. You bit your lip, a shiver ran down your spine. How you loved this man so much.

He took his shirt off with one swift motion and before you knew it, his pants dropped to the floor. He kissed you, both of your bodies stuck to each other. He positioned himself on your entrace, rubbing his tip on your labia.

"I'm gonna ask you again... Are you sure about this?" He mumbled. You smiled, loving how considerate he was. He might not show it, but you once saw him looking at baby pictures and smiling to himself, his eyes glistening like never before. Another time you overheard his call with his friends and how he wanted a little baby girl.

You placed your hand gently on his face, cupping his soft cheeks, "of course I'm sure, love... It's gonna be our little one after all..." You giggled. Having gotten your approval, with one rough push he shoved himself in making you yelp. Your arms wrapped around him, nails digging on his skin as he thrusted inside you like there's no tomorrow.

He groaned from how tight you were. He kissed you again, his arms holding you in a tight warm embrace. You moaned and whimpered underneath him, feeling every touch, every thrust, every breath and every groan a bit too much.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, how happy he was to have you, how much he loved you. This was the third time you've seen him this expressive. The first one was when you confessed to him, second one when you said yes to his proposal and now this.

And honestly... You couldn't be happier. The thought of carrying this man's child in your womb made your heart swell in pure joy.

Every thrust was rough yet loving in its own manner. (My ears are legit burning as I write this.) You told him you loved him back if not more. How lucky you were to be his wife.

He chuckled, "you're so beautiful... So sweet... So lovable... Im the lucky one..." He mumbled. He wasn't the type to be overly expressive with his words of affection. But when he was... He was out for your heart with how sweet he was. And hearing loving things from someone who feels awkward saying his feelings out loud just made things many many times better.

A few more thrusts in, he was already close. Usually he can go even longer but today... Today he was way more giddy... More lovey... And it was contagious. You felt your second coming closer too. Also because you already came once and were even more sensitive.

Few more sloppy wet thrusts in, he let loose. Shoving his cock in deeper inside your pussy to make sure every drop of his cum reached you to impregnate you. And you couldn't be happier.

You moaned out loud, letting yourself go as well. Both of you panting from the after effects.

The room filled with sounds of shaky breaths, pounding hearts and loving words in soft whispers.

He flopped down on the bed right beside you, still holding you close. His cock still inside you, "can't having all that milk go to waste now, can I kitten?" He said. You giggled, getting on top of him, "round two?" You asked. He sighed, "do I even have a choice here?"

You shook your head like a child, "nuh uh!"

Fin~

Sorry this if this wasn't as good as expected 😭 I was in a huge rush while writing this so I couldn't make it as good but hope you guys still liked it! Anyways I'm gonna go work now bye lmao~

[bear-remn]

—shu headcanon's!

hi! I've been thinking a lot lately about the Sakamaki brothers and I came up with some headcanons that maybe you guys can enjoy too, the first one in this series is shu so enjoy! also a little art piece i make during maing this post.

tw: there are some nsfw headcanons!!! if you dont like that content dont read it!

his looks and selfcare

i do think that shuu is very, good looking, shu has that kind of elegant beauty, with his fine face and a straight nose, clearly his eyes are what attract the most attention when you see him for the first time, also shu has a very penetrating and fixed gaze, in addition to the fact that his blue color makes him have a captivating look and sometimes makes people nervous without realizing it, just because of his natural gaze.

even so, shu does not realize how attractive he is, at least not entirely, mostly bc he doesnt take care of his face, like he dont put any cream or special soap on his skin, he is totally the guy that barely wash his face and has a perfect skin.

but i do think that when he wants to, he definetly put sunscreen bc thats what he thinks is makeup for men.

and maybe this is a little... dirty? but i truly belive shu does'nt shower too often, maybe three times a week? or sometimes two, and he does not smell, like too bad, bc he dont sweat for some reason, but does sometimes stink with that smell, when somebody is for too long in a bed... that kind of smell.

and the times he showers he truly takes that shower like if it was his last, ofc is a bubble bath and he puts some candles and music while he just rest in hot water. is shu's private moment with himself. and he loves vanilla and chocolate candles.

and about shaving, he has a happy trail, but cant grow a hole beard, for some reason it just grow under his chin and it bothers him so he shave it right away. and about his body hair it is very thin and not so visible.

talking about skin, something shu needs, is to feel soft things to the touch, like his sheets, he makes his bed all the time and loves the smell of vanila or lavanda the bed has when its recently done, and its the same with his clothes, he needs cotton clothes, if shu feel something that is minimally rough or that makes his skin itchy, he never wears it again or throw it away.

shu does not brush his hair too often, mostly bc its not hard to control and he likes how he looks with messy hair.

i like to think that shu has a wide body, big shoulders and a thick waist, he has a prominent v line, his arms are a little thick too, and his hands are big, but his fingers are more thin and long, as he use to play piano. and he takes care of his nails, doesnt put nail polish but do cuts them and keep them clean.

random stuff

sometimes shu doesnt realize his shirt is inside out, and he realize just when somebody else point it out. but shu dont care.

shu is actually a goosip, so he puts one of his earphones bad just so he can hear what people are talking even if it had nothing to do with him.

and a little secret of him, when shu cant sleep and is alone, he looks at cute/funny (mostly shitpost) videos, memes and photos of animals, shu is totally an animal lover.

on his vacations shu loves to watch a reallity shows, he loves drama of famous people, but ofc shu doesnt talk about this with anyone. and definetly watch them when he eats. not too often tho, it has to be a really good show.

shu has a record collection in his room, next to a wall full of vinyls of his favorite music, he doesn't use them much but enjoys collecting them.

and bc of his childhood he is actually really smart but bc he is miserable and lazy he just dont show it nor in his life or in the academy. and also as a little revenge to his father (who punish him by sending shu to alaska lol).

shu actually dont like human food, he find it boring, but do enjoy eating meat, almost raw, but not too much, bc after that his stomach hurt a little. he does like coffe or hot chocolate sometimes and better when it has milk.

and my favorite little thing about shu, i think shu dont play in consoles, not play station, not xbox, not nintendo, nothing like that. so he only play games in his phone, but not anygame. shu either playes puzzles games or play subway surfers, or both, who knows. and he loves the music of that game, it always stick into his mind when he hears it.

NSFW

so, shus dick... is great, maybe too dirty of me to say but u truly belive that shu has a pretty dick, like maybe more thick than normal, with two prominent veins and heavy balls. and its a little biger than average, probably like 19 cm. i had to say it.

also, i belive shu is a switch, ofc loves to be dominant but also enjoys being dominated, with a limit.

shu loves to tease people in any chance he gets, like, when someone (specially a girl) find out that he likes to hear woman moans as music, he tease them to make them nervous like "what? would you prefer me to just hear you? want me to make you moan? hehe". or when a girl is wearing something too revealing too close to him, like he sees someone underwear or a little peak of her chest shu be such an ass "wanting to show me something? how lewd of a woman you are huh" all of that with his sly smirk.

he flirts in a very... one of a kind, like he teases but also like to make physical contact, at firts he just do it in a way to make the other person nervous but with the time he craves the physical contact, he loves feeling his skin touch another skin, what makes him sleep naked.

shu is more perverted than laito canonically, but i think that shu is more romantic about it, like put passion in it, you can feel the conection with him when having sex. specially bc he loves making eye contact and touch everything he can. he craves to melt into your skin and its really intense. he holds you with possessiveness, hard and intense. almost needy, but shu isnt like quick and fast or desesperate. he is more the kind of sloow and deep, nice and steady. kind of guy.

and bc of his intense desire, he loves foreplay, and best of it, he knows how to do it right, i just know he can read people to know what someone like to make them weak. he also loves kissing, tongue. theeth and lips, he have to kiss at every moment, and if you moan into his mouth he just gets worked up. he would definetly make you grind on his leg while kissing. clearly he does the leg thing, he know things.

shu is a big fan of 69, like he loves to get sofocated while you suck him, and he does it right, loves to play with your clit like crazy, but he isnt rough, but if you ask for him to be more rough he get into it, until youre fucking trembling. and he expect you to cum in his face, afterwards he is happy just to be there.

and his favorite position in bed is either cowgirl or spoonign, firts bc he like when you take control, and seconds, he gets to hold you and be close to you and not making too much effort.

in the case of cowgirl, he loves pushing up to go deeper, and all of that while watching you face, damn he loves it. also likes to hold you waist, and watch you support your body with your hands on his legs, that way he can see better your boobs as you move. when he is close he bites his bottom lip so hard just bc he wants to see you how you cum as well, literally make you look into his eyes while doing it. and if he can, shu will sit up just to kiss you and and look into your eyes up close. he loves to intimidate you with his gaze.

"cmon... keep looking at me... dont take your pretty eyes off mine..."

and if you refuse to lok at him, shu would hold you face to make your eyes meet his.

and in the case of spooning, he grabs you close, like if shu wants to get into your skin, would hold onto your tits or your belly with one hand while he other is in your neck, making you look back at him while he trust into you deep and nice. would kiss your shoulder, your neck, your back, any little part of your skin that is close to him, he would kiss it gently, and if shu speed up a little, you would hear his hot breaths in your ear, occacionally biting it.

"fuck... you're mine, you know that?... only mine.. say it..."

"you're my woman... hear it?... say it... i want to hear you..."

the aftercare is another story to tell, basically he would be either too lazy to get up or just by luck he has something to clean up in his drawyer. he is the kind of men, that would prefer to stay dirty for a while just to hold you a little longer, definetly tease you for another round or just kiss you softly as he carees you hair or skin.

this man craves you with passion, and its touch starved.

── more of my content here!

[bisexualbaker]

What to post about on Dreamwidth

There's a question that may be on a lot of minds right now, that some people may be afraid to ask. Or you might not even think to ask it until after you're in deep enough that you'll feel silly for doing so! So let's get it out of the way ASAP.

"But what do I even post on Dreamwidth? Don't all posts there need to be super long and thoughtful?"

Not even a little bit! As with any social media site, posting is the blood that keeps social interactions going. You can get into comments, yes, but those happen best with posts! But with the (I'm sorry to say) sub-par image hosting interface on Dreamwidth (that will hopefully be fixed someday, but probably is at least several years out, I'm even sorrier to say), people who are used to an image-heavy social media site might be a bit daunted by Dreamwidth's text-heavy interface. So here's some ideas of things you can post:

Shitposts. It is entirely fine, okay, and even wonderful to make shitposts on Dreamwidth! Since Dreamwidth isn't a content aggregation site and doesn't have built-in reblogging, you probably shouldn't expect them to go very far (unless a member of metaquotes sees them and wants to share), but they're still welcome 👍

GIPs, or, Gratuitous Icon Posts! Free users get a total of 15 icons to use like reaction images and gifs, and sometimes when you upload one, you just want to share it with everyone right away! That's when you make a Gratuitous Icon Post. You can literally just make a post using that icon, and then put GIP in the text field, and boom! You're done.

Steal some prompts from sunshine_challenge, snowflake_challenge, or thefridayfive. While you can also do any of these challenges in real time, there's nothing stopping you from doing them whenever you want, and The Friday Five has a huge number of back-posts to dig through. Just go back a few pages on the main community page, pick a day with questions you like the look of, and post those (with your answers) to your journal!

Do you have a pet? Or more than one? Post about what they're doing right this second. Someone's bound to be interested in that!

To-do lists. Not only can it be helpful to have these actually written out, some of your followers may chime in to root for you to do them!

Media reviews in three sentences or less. Of course you can make them longer if you want, but if you're just looking to get a quick post out, this one might be pretty fun.

Something you're looking forward to! It doesn't have to be a big thing, even something like, "I can't wait for my next afternoon nap!" or "I just bought a new book and I'm really looking forward to reading it!" or "I wanna go home so I can pet my dog so bad!" Any of those would be a fine post.

Three (or more) Things Make a List: If you've got at least three things you've been meaning to post about, but don't have a lot to say about any of them, jumble them all together in the same post! Pretty sure this tradition dates back farther than Dreamwidth, though damned if I could say where it started.

It may not seem like these ideas have a lot in common, but one thing they're all good for is starting a conversation with your followers. And that's at least half the fun of Dreamwidth, IMO.

There's more ideas out there, but these should at least get you started. And if you keep it up, you'll have the hang of Dreamwidth in no time 😉

[davidisnotmyname]

MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS FOR THE SEVENTH COMIC (also this post is really long be warned)

Okay I wanted to give my thoughts on the seventh comic because I, a sleep deprived teenager with absolutely no knowledge on comic making or writing, feel that my opinion is logical and good /s

First off, my immediate reactions to the comic:

OH MY FUCKING GOD THATS A CHILD. THATS SOLDIER’S AND ZHANNA’S CHILD. THATS THEIR BABY. WHAT THE FUCK

the second I saw this shit I knew this comic was gonna give me an aneurysm (in a good way).

waitasecond…

THERESTWOOFTHEMOHMYGOD (also im so fucking happy that the joke I see in fan media a lot about Soldier naming his kids stuff like that is officially canon)(also east meets west fans were eating good this comic)

I like that the comic creators have put so much focus on Spy and Miss Pauling’s relationship. Not only is their dynamic great, but it shows that Spy isn’t a heartless jackass and he not only genuinely cares about the people around him, but can and will show it (I mean most of us knew that already but… someeeee people have fallen victim to the temptations of flanderization)

you’re gonna see this come up a lot in my rambling but I fucking love the shit the mercs are doing in the background, their expressions are so funny: Heavy is sick of their shit

Demo is asleep

Scout can’t breathe

Spy is also sick of their shit

Medic (and that godforsaken baby baboon) is sightseeing

Pyro is having the time of their life

and Sniper and Pauling are just trying to make sure they don’t all fucking crash and die

This is irrelevant as fuck (but most of the stuff I say is) but I just wanted to bring up how much I liked the secretary’s design. It’s very pleasing to look at.

They are like ants to me. I want to put them in a jar with holes in the lid and a bunch of leaves and then roll them down the stairs

I know this might not be what the scene is trying to imply, but fuck yeah, lesbianism (also thank god they gave Scout some semblance of character development, they are very cute as friends)

more background mercs. Medic and Pyro in particular have me in hysterics (this comic has so much good shit I can use for my discord pfp). Also Demoman my belemoman

GOD I FUCKING LOVE THE CHARACTER DESIGNS SO MUCH, thank you young Administrator for reminding me that I am in fact gay in every direction. RIP Admin, she served cunt and died

Get that fucking thing away from me

MAKAMI!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! THIS SHIT BELONGS IN THE LOUVRE!!!!!!! THIS IS GENUINELY THE MOST INCREDIBLE PANEL IN ALL OF THE COMICS, I AM AWESTRUCK

Yet again more background mercs. They saw your AO3 history.

okay I was gonna say something but my phone flagged this image as nudity for some fucking reason? What

anyways, as I was saying:

GAY (guys listen it’s canon okay you have to believe me guys wait come back no wait)

also my first thought when I saw this was “heavy is trying to hold him back from doing weird shit to the corpses,” and I don’t care how anyone else interprets it because I am objectively the most correct /j

also looking back at this I’m realizing heavy’s hands are almost the size of medic’s entire torso lmao tf2 isn’t beating the yaoi hand accusations

I’m actually gonna be sick and die oh my god what the fuck is wrong with me

I’m not gonna put all of the panels cuz I feel like it’ll get annoying quick + the image limit, but the whole series of Pauling just standing there as the Admin is cosplaying a Nature Valley Honey and Oats Bar while everyone slowly trickles out of the room just hits so hard and so good. These comics are such a compelling narrative disguised as a series of shitposts and I’m all for it.

MISS P. NAME DROP???!!!!! (Also can we get an F in the chat for all the Francine Pauling truthers)

He is literally her dad I don’t make the rules (also yes I’m aware that it’s stated that he’s her legal guardian literally two panels later so this joke really isn’t funny, but none of my jokes are so what’s your point)

Yet another casual masterpiece by Makami, with the added bonus of the subject being a beautiful hairy old man who’s built like a fucking brick house. Heavy Weapons Guy TF2 I wish you were real. Also bearded heavy goes hard, i need to cook him into a fucking soup oh my god

Hey chat so did you know I’m actually going to be inconsolable for the next three years. Also this is obviously photoshopped we all know his last name is Elbertson (no but seriously I actually started running around my room and rolling on the floor when I got to yet another name drop)

Okay, I need to either say this now or have it fester in my psyche for eternity. That haircut gave me physical and psychic damage when I first saw it. Scout tf2, you’re ugly as shit but that’s honestly poggers, welcome to the club man (also oh my god he looks so much like Jerma I’m screaming, but Jerma isn’t ugly though I promise I would never diss my king like that)

Nobody talk to me

I SAID NOBODY FUCKING TALK TO ME

spy with his granddaughter, he loves her so much but still can’t bring himself to reveal who he truly is. I actually can’t fucking do this anymore this comic is gonna have me keel over and die of a heart attack

That’s it. Get in the fucking wood chipper right now /j seriously though I can’t even begin to explain how much this scene means to me. Spydad was one of the main things that got me so interested in tf2 over a year ago, and seeing him and Scout not only being civil about it, but genuinely caring about each other is everything. I’ve never been one for spydad angst (no shade if you do like it, I just personally prefer happier stuff), so I’m glad that this was the route the comics took with that plot point.

also don’t think I’m not gonna bring up the fucking mask. after seventeen years, we finally have spy’s face. Not only that, but the reveal was done through him giving it to his granddaughter. It’s done in such a casual and sweet way but it’s so impactful. He can be vulnerable around these people. This man, who’s spent his life building up walls around himself, refusing to let anyone through to the point of wearing that stinky ass balaclava everywhere, can now freely live as himself with his son and grandchildren. I’m gonna start eating screws I swear to god.

oh fuck I hit image limit hang on I have a little bit more to say check the reblogs the rest of my descent into madness will be present there shortly.

[skidcd-megamix]

Slim shady concept model and brainrot shit on the side,,,,,umm fun fact: Slim Shady originally had a choker but I didn’t like it at all so I took it away he doesn’t have a choker anymore HE DOESNT HAVE JT!!!! DO YOU

[nyancrimew]

did i ever really tell tumblr yet about that time i created a shitpost music collective themed around the US bank wells fargo? the cypher below is the last thing the collective ever released, reaching the maximum amount of uploads for a free soundcloud account and concluding a weird ass project

we even ran a whole 5h long online music festival which starred artists such as fraxiom (see timestamps in video description for full festival line-up)

(at this place also a shoutout to flashmemories for being the archivist for an entire online music scene <3)

[generic-sonic-fan]

Sonic + Friends Youtuber headcanon post??

Tails is just canonically a youtuber. Sorry not sorry, look up TailsTube.

Sonic, when he's not guest-starring on Tails' channel, would have a tiny little channel of his own with approximately three youtube videos and all three of them are about how not to get lost in the jungle. He doesn't appear on camera once. Shitty MS paint overlays, Arial font crudely edited over the footage, but really, really solid advice.

Amy does youtube/tiktok shorts doing tarot readings! And sometimes talking about her own adventures, but mostly as sidenotes to the reading of the week. She will, however, use her platform to boost fundraisers and talk about political causes she believes in.

Knuckles doesn't have a youtube account, but Tails did do an hour-long feature where he followed Knuckles around his usual route on Angel Island and interviewed him. They covered a good variety of topics, like how Knuckles occupies his time, grows his own food, searches and records lost Echidna artifacts, etc. It was very casual, sort of like a podcast.

Rouge doesn't have a youtube but she does run a successful anonymous instagram shitpost account comprised entirely of blurry pictures of Sonic and Shadow from people's doorbell and dash cams.

Shadow? Motorcycle repair and gun-cleaning tutorials. He films using an old digital camera Rouge got for him. It took him a bit of experimenting to figure out how to use it, but now he's got the hang of it. His videos aren't the best quality, since he tends to set the camera down and forget about it, but his explanations are thorough. Some people find his voice soothing.

Omega doesn't do youtube- he does twitch. He streams through his own optics as the camera, giving a first-person view of the carnage as he destroys Eggman bases. However, this isn't what got him viral. After each rampage, he'll stand over the remains of his robotic enemies and do a Q&A with the audience. The internet has decided that his responses are the most hysterical thing. Part of him is pleased he has so many watchers, but the other part of him is pissed that none of them want to stick around for the actual destruction.

Vanilla doesn't want Cream to be on the internet at such a young age! Good call, honestly. Sometimes Vanilla worries about Tails in this regard.

Vector flopped on Youtube, but he was HUGE on vine when he was back in high school. And he will never, ever, ever let anyone know about it. Sometimes Sonic will quote one of his vines and it gives him a heart attack.

Espio makes cute little origami tutorials! His channel isn't very popular, but he is one of the top results when searching how to make some very specific origami patterns.

Charmy has expressed interest in being a minecraft streamer, but Vector does everything in his power to prevent this.

Blaze has wayyyyy too much stage fright to consider a private youtube channel, but she appears on the news often enough in her home dimension.

Silver showed up in one of Tails' videos once and has gained a cult following ever since. They keep asking Tails to bring him back.

Metal Sonic is a Minecraft youtuber who focuses on pretty little creative builds. He tried to do multiplayer PVP for a little but he quickly broke his controller. Sometimes he gets roped into a video with-

Sage is also a Minecraft youtuber who focuses exclusively on redstone builds with more computing power than the fucking apollo program. Other than her voice, her videos are entirely anonymous. She's gotten comments calling her the "Tails" of Minecraft, and she couldn't be more flattered.

Eggman runs a propaganda channel for his empire that quickly got banned, and he moved to one of those sketchy youtube knockoffs. And a certain. . . more explicit website. The one with "hub" in the name. Every video is your typical propaganda fair, all hail Eggman, death to the blue rat, etc etc etc.

[eventyde]

i had an evil thought but unfortunately for everyone i can only communicate trough shitposts referencing 6+ year old steven universe comics

"Guides, or so the book have called them. Torn off pieces of the universe put into artificial vessels. They are made mostly from wood, ceramic or bone if you want to go fancy. Guess human bodies also work in a pinch, huh?"

in short: this is 100% just an excuse to make the sloop codependency worse

in long: (canon-typical angst warning:)

Guides normally are little dolls who don't have much free will of their own and are basically just made to help with a task, shaped by how the ones around them perceive them, especially the one who made them.

There are very specific rituals to make one safely, but unfortunately Siffrin didn't know them and used their own body as a vessel to hold it. This obviously kills them, but the star counts as an equipment so now they are still stuck in the time-loop AND possessed by a celestial entity.

The guide, partly because being in a human body and party because the universe decides that it's the easiest way for Siffrin's wish to come true, becomes a semi-autonomous replica of them, who (subconsciously) copies what Siffrin did, but slowly gains free will/independence trough the loops (as the party and Siffrin Loop keep treating them like a person)

Since Siffrin's wish is still in effect, but lost their body, they are stuck as a ghost, a situation that they totally misunderstand and canon plays out (semi) normally

Neither is really happy when they realize what Loop's wish actually did.

After the reveal stardust feels extremely guilty for accidentally taking Loop's identity and wants to give it back. (Also has a major identity crisis and convince themselves they don't actually have free will and shouldn't be treated as a person.) (And feel super guilty whenever they talk to a family member because they are just a replica of Siffrin and while they don't like lying to them but would never tell them because 1. Loop begs them not to 2. they are terrified that the party wouldn't let them stay around if they knew the truth) (also thinks Loop would soon die without their body and is terrified to lose them.)

Loop, who only recently accepted that they are not Siffrin anymore, has really conflicted feelings about it. (Because they think they abandoned everyone and feel like this is their punishment.) (And don't want to admit to their friends what they did) (And also messing up a ritual they didn't even remember and creating stardust and letting them suffer needlessly.) (Also because they don't know if removing the star would kill stardust or not and they are terrified to lose them.)

Basically both convince themself they don't deserve to be Siffrin, but neither of them is brave enough to actually say that, or tell someone else about the entire thing because they both believe the family would hate them.

[catboybiologist]

Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

[jennifer-jeong]

hii could i request like a little drabble or headcanons for racer L&DS characters? the idea been eating away in my mind for soooo long😭😭

HELLO ANON THANK YOU FOR YOUR ASK, I SHALL END THE EATING OF YOUR BRAIN (that sounded weird but you get me). I don’t know too much about F1 (my information source is instagram reels where the racers are shitposting) but I’ll try my best to get the memes and thirst correct hehe.

Fluff + Crack | Racer!LADS x Reader Racer Boyfriend

CONTENT Fluff, crack, gender neutral reader, the boys are F1 racers in cunty jumpsuits, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

RAFAYEL is your typical babygirl racer man. I swear this is an entire sub population of F1 racers and I love them. He’s ALWAYS winking or kissing at the cameras and looks so zesty when he poses with his hands on his hips (especially because he’s in that tiny jumpsuit). He drives his fans crazy and they make so many edits of him LOL *cue velocity edit of him taking his helmet off. He gets very serious during races though, he’s a top racer, and can get pretty riled up when things go wrong. If you were dating the man, expect to get spoiled and shown off A LOT. He’d protect you from paparazzi and crazy fans but will never stop flexing how pretty you are on his socials. Of course you reciprocate and he thinks its so cute when you make little photo edits of you two with hearts all over them.

ZAYNE is actually kind of a mystery man. He bursts onto the scene with immediate top 3 finishes in all the big races but never takes off his helmet. He’s always calm and only ever really gives a small thumbs up to cameras and nothing more. The mask kink crazies (me) are going feral over this man. His jumpsuit shows off his muscle and his voice is absurdly deep, bro has it all. When he does finally take off his helmet, it’s due to a crash and cracked helmet. The medical team needs to check his head so he has to remove it. He starts trending on twitter after that day. No wonder he hid his face this whole time. If you’re his partner he’d definitely tell you that he only wanted you to see him without the mask. He treats you like a princess, publicly escorting you places and always holding your hand. You cheer him on from the VIP suite at every single race.

XAVIER has been the longest standing champion despite all the hate. Of course he has a lot of fans as well but being in the spotlight so much naturally brings negativity. He purposely acts aloof and stupid to piss off his haters more when he inevitably wins the world cup. Those who really know him though are fully aware that he’s just acting. He’s unbelievably good at the sport and he does it all without breaking a sweat (not literally, like he actually sweats a lot LOL). There's definitely compilations of him breaking character during interviews where he actually says something intelligent or when he accidentally rizzes up his interviewer. If you two were dating it would probably just be a really sweet relationship that all his fans adore. Even the haters would probably think you’re pretty or be jealous. He tried to shield you from bad press and you think it's so cute he cares about you instead of himself in these situations. You of course do all you can to prevent paparazzi from getting to him too but he'll still kiss you in front of them.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[undead-cypress]

Some MRF thoughts that I don't have shitpost images for but I feel like nobody but me and my tiny group of freaks talk about. I promise this isn't another "it's QDS!!" post

(spoilers)

- there's universal themes here for sure but this game is still entirely about Japan. Like honestly I feel like some nitpicks ppl have about the game can just be summed up as "this isn't reflective of America". I could elaborate but it'd take a whole essay with how dense this could get. And we know people hate to read

- there's no romance or dating because the devs knew that's what all anybody would talk and think about if they added any. They learned their lesson. Unfortunately for them this will not deter anybody

(frankly I think there is a canonical intended love interest but it's not who most ppl think it is and whatever happens between the characters in that regard is none of my business unless it's for making shitposts lol. Nor does it really matter to me)

- there's a few things lost in translation, but tbf there was no way to really translate them, they're mostly visual puns and unspoken running themes. Like how the "Prince" archetype in Japanese was more like... Ruler? Sovereign? It's not really a hereditary kinda title, nor was it gendered. But it doesn't have the same weight in English, and usually refers to monarchs, so. Also "Savior" was "Messiah", because it was supposed to have a more sacrificial connotation. I'll probably make a whole long post about the Healer line design stuff later. "anxiety" being 不安 (lacking safety) and 不安心 (unstable heart). Like it still absolutely means anxiety and there's no better way to translate it but anxiety doesn't have the same weight in English as 不安 does in Japanese....

- for a game literally titled "a metaphor about fantasy reflecting reality" people sure aren't picking up a lot of these extremely obvious metaphors. I'm not even talking about the ones they literally spell out in the text, I'm talking about stuff like. The Sanctist Church isn't really talking about Catholicism or Christianity because they're not that big a deal in Japan, and this game is still about Japan. Sanctist Church is about the LDP. Y'know. Abe

- and then there's actually very good trans subtext? I don't even know it should be called subtext because it should be overtly obvious to Japanese people. It would take a long post for me to explain here though.

- speaking of, Junah is my favourite character. Absolutely did not expect that but she's incredible. The dialogue in this game is so carefully considered, especially hers. There's people saying her story is too simple - I'm sorry you've fallen for the trick. Hope you figure it out soon

- I actually don't think there's a single second of filler in the game, which really is a foreign feeling. Maybe because I do design, but the storytelling even in the random enemy, battle, and dungeon designs are all so intentional. You might have to play on hard to fully experience how the game nudges you to play or navigate certain ways that subtly informs you way more about the story and characters. They built it around the story rather than having the story be an afterthought. I haven't seen them attempt this since p3 tbh

- I think DDS/QDS enjoyers will get WAY more out of this than anybody. And some P3 enjoyers, if they're the type of p3 fan who's more obsessed by the literary influences and themes than the fandom perception of the characters. Also a little bit of musing on Nocturne, but I'm feel like I'm the only one who noticed (._. )

- ppl saying the game is grindy or hard - lol skill issue. I did 0 grinding ever, even against the dragon towers. Being Megaten Georg outlier that should not be counted didn't even help me in this aspect because I started off playing as if it was megaten and immediately got humbled. If you pay attention to what the game is saying (in the "please pay attention and think about what you're reading" game), it's really well balanced.

- like yeah this game rewards you for thinking and reflecting, the more you mull it over the more interesting and fun it is. I think that's where the true enjoyment is, and the game isn't subtle about this either. Which is why it's WILD to me I still see posts of ppl complaining about stuff that if they thought about it for more than 2 seconds are either just untrue or has a point or was a setup to be resolved later.

- the vistas on the bottom half of the map is either a reference to the laser cannon from Paradise Lost OR GODZILLA and I'm the ONLY PERSON WHO NOTICES THIS????

- honestly I'm so glad I go out of my way to read weird stuff a lot because truly. What you get out of MRF as a person who's a little too hyper aware of literary techniques, design intention and media presentation is so delicious. I'm literally here rotating shot compositions and event sequences and the story telling in the UI design in my brain (Will is sideways on the screen because they're. Lying down). The fuckin shade on the screen you can pick "this isn't utopia" option being the shot showing you the most billboards...

- this explains so much about the past few major games they've put out tbh. They really wanted to do more stuff like DDS and perfect the vision they couldn't get with p3 due to hardware limits and later financial troubles. It's like every single grievance they've had with executive meddling put into one game. Ppl know them as the persona guys but I remember they also made DDS and Nocturne and that weird Maken X thing 🫡

- I've been jokingly calling p3 depression simulator and catherine anxiety simulator I'm gonna start calling MRF recovery simulator because that's kinda one of the underlying themes

- Louis is so funny. "Nobody will commit atrocities anymore if I commit all of them", I'm paraphrasing but, girl, what kinda QDS5 Heat logic....

On less serious notes:

- Atlus still sucks at official merch...

- I might be making notes on the Raidou style Eupha game that exists only in my head

- and the comedy road trip movie where Strohl and Hulkenberg must find Will who is pretending to be kidnapped for plot reasons, and Gallica didn't tell the two because they're not good at acting

- I still think it's very funny that the dogs at the beginning would either kill you in one strike or even if you kill one, give you nothing. They fungered me. I don't think the parallel to Fear and Hunger was intentional but that was an extremely funny coincidence, to me 😂 immediately upon the start

- I referred to More as Ike the entire playthrough as a joke to my friends because I thought it was funny they have the same voice and both games' about fantasy racism. And then I got the Radiance skill from the Prince archetype... "Behold... I walk a path of radiance..." (Not what they actually say but I said it a lot)

- I think wanting to fuck Louis is fine and hilarious but Will isn't the most fitting character to project that onto. They hand Zorba to you on a silver platter and people deny him and for what. His awesome design? Dedication to serving cunt? Awesome accent? Sexy fucked up arm? I weep to see my son's established personality sacrificed in the name of fucking Louis. It's like people giving Hulkenberg ass. Why would you do that to her, her flatness is the charm point. All that to say horny is fine I just wish so much of it wasn't OOC.

- however, I did make a lot of dumb jokes towards the end of the game that it must be canon we never fucked Louis because otherwise we can just teleport the gauntlet runner straight into his ass, Antman vs Thanos style, killing him immediately

- addendum:

Me: man I wish there wasn't so much OOC art of the MRF characters

Manga: hold my beer

Me: Hulkenberg would obliterate you

[hellfiresky]

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.