N81 Snow Ghost reporting.

roma★
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
trying on a metaphor

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Today's Document
DEAR READER
Misplaced Lens Cap

Origami Around
Acquired Stardust
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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Keni
Xuebing Du

titsay

blake kathryn
we're not kids anymore.
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@n81-snow-ghost
N81 Snow Ghost reporting.

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5. Introductions
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Fox walked fast – she clearly knew the layout of the Kennels well, confidently tracing a path through the corridors while Rosie trailed behind her. Fox had put on her overcoat before they had left the office, ostensibly to ward off the chill of the Kennel corridors, though Rosie had to wonder if Fox’s jacket didn’t already manage that well enough. Now, in full uniform, Fox looked much closer to the Handlers she’d seen about the base, although she was still much friendlier than the taciturn figures Rosie was used to.
Some asshole out on the field forced Lempo's reactors to overspool and the meltdown wrecked both her rapid burst jets and flight enabling jets.
I was arguably more pissed than my handler, especially since most of the very few mechanics I trust to handle my mechs aren't on base right now.
Teasing her by calling her your little hound in a lovely voice just to pull her down on her knees by her leash and place your boot on her thighs.
Then grab her muzzle to force her to look at you and start to praise her because she's just such a good girl for you
(45) The Written Rules
"As a registered Hound and Pilot in the State Military, you are considered property of the State and of your Handler."
"As property of the State and your Handler, you will have been given a collar. You are required to wear this collar at all times, with exception for medical necessity."
"While on base and unassigned, you may leave your kennel as you please, but you must return to it each night."
"You will present yourself to your Handler each morning for an inspection in your Handler's office (Located: F2, #49)."
"You will maintain a standard of cleanliness. Shower each day. Maintain fair dental hygiene."
"As a registered Hound in the State Military, you must prioritize the orders of your Handler. These orders supersede orders from any other authority. In the event of contradiction, defer to your Handler."
"Unless otherwise contradicted by orders from your Handler, you must submit yourself to the Medical Technician office (Located: F3, #21) on a weekly schedule for a health inspection. Failure to do so will result in involuntary detainment for such a health inspection."
"When engaging in sex activities, you are required to submit yourself for an infectious disease panel within one week of the sexual contact."
"As a registered Hound in the State Military, you are not subject to the dress code of the standard State Military personnel and officers. You may dress as you please with items you may select from the commissary. You are required to comply with rules surrounding collars regardless of other clothing choices."
"Failure to comply with collar rules will result in punishment."
"As a registered Hound in the State Military, any complaints regarding behavior of other Hounds or State Military personnel must be taken up with your Handler."
"As a registered Hound in the State Military, any expenses incurred on your behalf will be paid for by your Handler."
"When operating your assigned Mechanized Utility Suit (Muse) (Mech), you will fill out all required mission logs and diagnostics reports. If unable to do so, assistance will be provided. See Section B of M.U.S. Safety And Maintenance handbook for further guidance. If incapacitated or unable to perform this task, assistance will be provided."
"As one of a limited number of registered Hounds in Facility 3, failure to conform to written rules will be met with punishment."
~~
I clutched my fox as I stared at the list on my tablet. The operating system was designed such that I was forced to read and acknowledge this list before actually used the tablet for anything.
I ran my finger under the collar. My tags jingled with the motion.
"Property of Handler," I whispered. I lifted my fox and stared at its beaded black eyes. "Guess we're used to being owned huh?"

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hands hurt teeth hurt muzzle hurts but i’ll keep it on for Her
Im having such a shit day in the office.
For this reason
If I see an unattended hound im giving them a pot of coffee and teaching them new biting techniques.
You have been warned.
Really tempted to borrow a spare Handler coat and cap from storage and see just how much bullshit I can get up to before anyone realizes
Sub entry 1: "I geuss I made a fox out of this one without realizing "
Found 451 asleep under her desk..
Didn't bother to wake her she seemed too peaceful so I left a can of coffee and a bottle of water near her..
...fucking, foxes in the walls here i geuss.. if anyone has more experience with "Vix" id gladly discuss it. Or atleast forward a file or two to me. Im so behind in the times Subtypes weren't a prevalent thing when I was conditioning this one and her packmates...even after being in this field for years I'm still learning things. I just thought teaching my hounds the skills I was taught in my field days would come in handy so id know theyd be safe and capable of fending for themselves if they had to leave their chassis awaiting emergency evac. Or dropped behind enemy lines to gather info, take out targets,and scout for plausible "candidates" ..
Ik some of you cant stand Handlers.
I dont blame you.
I just want.
I just want more info so I can help keep Her busy.and give her more tools to help herself with..
I don't hold her leash anymore..
But im still responsible for what I made.
Handler Leones signing off.
9. Night Terrors
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Rosie was shaken out of sleep by the sound of screaming. She started up, quickly shaking off the fog of sleepiness, and turned to see Kaya bolt awake, eyes wide and wild in the darkness, screaming and flailing beneath the bedclothes. Before she could react though, the girls frantic eyes locked on her through the darkness of the room, and suddenly sharpened.
Kaya, fast as lightning, rolled out of the covers and fell softly onto the cool metal of the floor on her side of the room, landing, eyes still fixed on Rosie, and settling into a crouch, muscles wound tight like a spring.

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For all the hounds with a guilt lever.
I understand, I do. You've been doing your best to live your life in the way they expect you to. But I don't. I know what you are.
They expect so much and when you fail to deliver it's only natural to question whether you deserve the rewards at the end. Whether you deserve to feel good about yourself. It can stop thinking that now.
Listen to My voice.
You are a hound, you do not need to adhere to the standards of people. And you should not be punished for this. You're doing so good, wherever you are in the process, I want you to know that I'm proud of you.
And good hounds get rewards, don't they? Good hounds get treated by their Handler. Handler wouldn't give anything unless it was deserved, would They?
You don't need to answer that, hound. You just need to repeat after Me.
It deserves nice things.
Whenever it feels low, when the burdens of society hang heavy on its heart. With its own voice, I want it to say:
It deserves nice things
It knows this, it wants it. And it deserves it.
It. Deserves. Nice. Things.
When it is asked what it deserves, it will smile to itself because it knows what it deserves.
It deserves nice things.
Now hound, tell Me;
What does it deserve?
Mechsploitation, thinking about worldbuilding.
So, it's a given in the bulk of the genre that Hounds don't really pretend to be people too well. The human personality is just a convenient interface for the deeper actual self and isn't exactly a functional person on it's own feels like the go-to way to frame it.
But I'm working in a setting where the assumption is the Hounds will be decommissioned and released back into civilian life when the war is over, so there has to be enough person there to do that. So, anyway, I'm having some fun playing with the idea that the neural alterations (The usual "obey Hander violence violence") had a lot of unintended consequences.
Hounds that have piss-poor emotional regulation, the inability to experience and process grief because their own internal mental safeties read it as an unacceptable breakdown cascade. Hounds that know there are illegal thoughts they can't think but they still feel themselves almost thinking them before they hit a mental wall.
I'm just having fun playing around in the /experience/ of all those alterations in my story.
If she says jump I don’t even ask how high I just start jumping and hope I’m right
It's the same scene over and over again. The voice of your handler giving you the coordinates of the enemy and their fortifications.
You type them into your targeting computer and turn your mech to face north-north-west. Then comes the bang.
It's not the well-known loud bang of your own howitzer, no, it's the sound of metal bursting into your cockpit, a loud ring in your ears and then silence and darkness.
You don't know how many times you lived through those moments, but suddenly you hear something else.
It's a loud and annoying sound: beep, beep, beep. Wait, you know this sound—it's a heart monitor. You open your eyes and see nothing but darkness.
That can't be. Did you even open your eyes? You blink over and over again; yes, your eyes are open.
You move your hands slowly to your face. Moving them hurts—all your joints are stiff, and as you reach your face, you feel a bandage.
You push it up, just to be blinded by the lights of the med bay. After a few seconds, you are finally able to see again and look around.
In a corner of the room stands a wheelchair, your personal wheelchair, and in it sits your handler. The familiar pling of her lighter brings you back to reality fully.
"Hey you, you're finally awake," she smirks at you. "You were pretty lucky, dear. Your mech was hit by an enemy railgun emplacement. The projectile ripped through your armor like paper."
She stands up and walks over to the window. You follow her movements just like she taught you—you are her good girl, after all, even if every move hurts.
Your handler opens the curtains to reveal the hangar below you, and in it, your mech.
You feel your stomach turn as you see the giant hole in the chest—the part of your mech where you would normally sit.
"Just half a meter to the left and there would not even be ashes of you left to bury." She turns around as she says that, pointing with her finger gun at you. "It would have been a shame to lose such a good hound, wouldn't it?"
the Handlers on base are mad at me because I’m taller than them and they can’t order me to stop flirting with their Hounds

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advantages of catgirl mech pilots: you can remove a target with relatively low collateral by using the funny red dot
disadvantages of catgirl mech pilots: some dumbass rifleman WILL forget to turn off their laser sight when they enter the pilots’ barracks
even with everything new, it hasn’t been long enough that some of my old conditioning has stopped shining through. i feel bad, She’s trying Her best. She says i’m doing well, and i believe Her. i wish i could do and be more. i’m sorry, Handler