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kit-kat-katie · 10 months

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Goodnight, Moonlight

A/N: Y’know, I’m actually super proud of this fic. I was unsure of myself and the direction that I wanted to go, but I ended with something that I really like. Please let me know if you want another part, I’d love to continue the story and see where our lovebirds end up next. ;)

TW: Cannon-typical levels of violence and gore, aquatic fighting, mentions of drowning, reader is described to be physically strong and have typical traits and skills that a victor from District 4 would have (dw I can’t swim but I can be delulu), reader maintains their obliviousness, slightly OOC! Peeta and Katniss (I've never written for them before so please excuse any flaws), poison fogs, reader and Co. sustains multiple injuries, death (no main character death yet)

Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (”one-sided” romantic to shared romantic)

Summary: As you’re thrust into the arena, you’re forced to focus on keeping yourself alive, keeping your mentor and Katniss from harming one another, and keeping ahead of the endless perils that are thrown your way. Mixed signals from Finnick eventually even out, and a moment of clarity brings you two closer together than you’ve ever been before.

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Finnick can’t die or get captured by the Capitol. It has to be me.

That’s your first coherent thought as the pedestal stabilizes in the arena. You find yourself growing oddly… familiar with this environment, these few seconds where nothing yet everything matters.

You can’t see Finnick or Katniss, but you recognize Johanna’s fiery red hair. You also spot Wiress and Beetee close together, and you let yourself relax for a moment before the canon fires.

Water.

You dive into the water without a second thought. Swimming is as natural as breathing, given your home district, and you easily outrace your competitors to the rocks that lead to the Cornucopia. You climb on the rocks with ease, and you’re running towards the center of the arena until you spot blonde hair struggling to swim in the water.

Peeta.

You don’t hesitate to switch course and dive in after him. Helping Peeta would not only get you further into Katniss’s good graces, but it would be right on target with your image in the Capitol.

That’s exactly the kind of thinking that Finnick encouraged.

You push your mentor out of your mind as you quickly peek above water and spot another male heading towards Peeta. His eyes are dripping venom, but you’re not scared to shoot a murderous look back.

Sunny was a sweet mentor, a respectful celebrity, and a dangerous tribute. You could manage to be all three - as long as you did so with a smile on your face.

“Don’t be afraid to smile,” President Snow chides as you nervously stare at the carnations as his desk, “you know that’s what the people want to see, right?”

The image of Snow’s head on a large spike is enough to motivate you to swim faster than your competition.

You push Peeta out of the way before landing a punch to the face of the other man. From a quick assessment, you weren’t as strong as this man, but he couldn’t fight in water like you could.

You dodge an uncoordinated swing to your left side before landing another hit - this time you punch his chest. He takes a bigger breath as his eyes meet yours.

You offer a warm smile before he tries - and fails - to land another hit. You look over for just a second, just to make sure that Peeta’s still in your peripheral vision, before the other tribute tackles you under the surface of the water.

You immediately thrash around as he tries to keep you under - a lucky breath saves you from drowning as you manage to free yourself from his grasp.

He’ll drown if he tries to drown me.

You emerge from the water, and the warm air that enters your lungs causes you to cough violently. You grab onto a nearby pedestal as you try to locate Peeta in-between coughing fits.

You spot Peeta as he throws a punch at the man, and your head snaps to the Cornucopia as your breaths even out. From a distance, you see a man with a trident looking for someone, and you take a bet on who that might be as you wave a hand in the air.

Finnick immediately rushes around the Cornucopia after he spots you, and returns with a black-haired girl who you could recognize from a mile away.

You swim towards the rocks before finally making your way out of the water. The warm air on all of your skin feels like relief in its sweetest form - one that is most welcome as you realize how drained you are from one simple encounter.

It has to be the water because I cannot be a weakness right now.

You point out Peeta in the water once Finnick and Katniss get closer, and Finnick doesn’t hesitate to dive in as Peeta continues to struggle in the water.

For the first time in a long time, you fear for his safety. Peeta’s a teenager, just like you were, but he’s already back in the arena.

This isn’t fair.

Words die on the tip of your tongue - comforting people was your speciality, but Katniss didn’t appear to need comforting as she raises her bow and prepares to fire an arrow.

When Peeta and the other tribute are submerged underwater before Finnick gets to them, Katniss reluctantly puts down her bow as she stares expectantly into the water.

You jump when the canon fires, and the hope in her eyes turns to fear as a still body emerges from the water. You’re scared to look because if it’s Peeta-

Thankfully, Peeta emerges from the water as Finnick reaches him, and they both swim back safely as you and Katniss share a relieved expression.

Katniss watches the Cornucopia as the careers gather there and stare her down, and you grab Finnick’s trident from the rocks.

It doesn’t feel right in my hands - it’s like this weapon was meant to be with Finnick.

You hand Finnick his trident after he gathers himself, and you watch Katniss take Peeta’s hand and help him out of the water.

“You alright?” Finnick places a hand on your shoulder, and the weight of your earlier realization crashes down on you as you nod.

You can’t let Finnick get hurt, but you can’t let him know that you feel this way about him because you know how he feels about-

“I’m good, thanks,” You gently place your hand on his, “but you really couldn’t grab me a weapon?”

The serious expression melts off his face as he chuckles slightly, and you feel a bit self-conscious as Katniss and Peeta stare at you like wild deer.

“I didn’t have time, and I know you’re better with your fists, sweetheart.” Finnick replies to your teasing with a smile as he lets go of your shoulder.

You find yourself missing his touch - don’t think about Finnick like that - when Peeta steps towards you.

“Thank you fo-“

“You can thank me when we’re out of here, okay?” You interrupt him before another cannon sounds. “I don’t feel like becoming prey for the predators.”

Katniss glances back at the Cornucopia one last time as the four of you make your way towards the beach and into the thick forestry that awaits you.

Your quartet runs into the forest as Peeta leads with Katniss right behind him. Finnick allows you to go in front of him with a handsome smile and welcoming arm gesture (you’d have to tease him about that later).

Your mind wanders as your feet effortlessly navigate the forest floor - playing tag on rock beaches and having some experience in rock climbing did have its uses, after all.

Does Finnick mean what he says when he calls me sweetheart, or is it apart of the Capitol facade? I suppose I’m not much better - does Finnick know who I truly am behind the sunshine?

The distinction had become unclear for yourself - you were kind, but that wasn’t all that you were. You liked to tease your mentor and be a thorn in his side, but you also wanted to help the children in your district understand that there is life outside of the games. Couldn’t both sides of you coexist at the same time?

“Okay, hold up, hold up!”

Finnick’s voice causes you to pause as your breathing catches up with the rest of your body - you’d run a long distance without being phased in the slightest. You need to take breaks so you could be energized for a possible encounter, but a quick look back assures you that the Cornucopia is out of sight and, for now, out of mind.

Peeta’s the first to sit, and you’re quick to follow as you watch Katniss scan the environment for any possible danger. Finnick catches up and sits next to you. Katniss reluctantly kneels as you start to fan yourself - you’re in a jungle, not a forest, and it’s fucking hot.

“God, it’s hot,” You wipe the sweat from your forehead as Peeta speaks, “we got to find fresh water.”

You glance over at Finnick, who offers you a reassuring nod. You notice that Katniss is watching the two of you, but you choose not to say anything. She’s paranoid and overprotective, and who wouldn’t be?

A booming cannon pushes everyone’s attention to the sky, which is quickly followed by a second and third cannon.

With his bright smile and a small laugh, Finnick tries to lighten the mood with a simple joke.

“I guess we’re not holding hands anymore.”

You briefly smile and chuckle under your breath before Katniss chimes in.

“You think that’s funny?”

Your eyes widen as you glance over at Finnick to see how he handles her aggression.

“Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. I don’t care about any of them.”

“Good to hear.” Katniss draws a machete from her back as you place a hand on Finnick’s arm.

You’d always be there for him, and you’d fight off Katniss if that’s what it took, but you needed her alive, along with Peeta. Although you had know her for such little time, you saw your younger spirit in her - the feisty, brash child that fought with her heart in her hand.

“Wanna face the career pack alone?” Finnick pauses for a beat before asking her another question. “What would Haymitch say?”

“Sunny, you have to know that Katniss doesn’t play nice with others.”

“But she was nice to me, Haymitch-“

“You’re odd, just like she is. Maybe you can find some common ground and convince her to not shoot Finnick the moment he opens his mouth.”

“…Thanks.”

He’d probably tell you, at this very moment, to grab a drink and enjoy the show, but you had to keep the peace.

For his sake, for Peeta’s sake, and for my sake.

“Haymitch isn’t here.” Katniss coldly answers while slightly lowering her machete.

“We should get going.” You glance over at Peeta, who nods in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, let’s keep moving.”

You pull yourself off the ground, and Peeta does the same while Katniss stares daggers into Finnick.

“Play nice,” You mumble under your breath to Finnick before walking over to Katniss, “and I’m sorry that his ego can get in the way sometimes. He’s a nice guy, I promise.”

You offer Katniss a hand up off the ground as a truce, and a small smile appears and then quickly disappears off her face as she takes your hand.

“For the record,” Finnick mumbles as you walk with him behind Katniss and Peeta, “I was playing nice. She’s just a bit… rough around the edges.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” You roll your eyes as Finnick bumps your shoulder.

“First you say I have an ego, and now this,” He sighs before playfully pushing you ahead, “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Sunny.”

You feel your face start to heat up as you begin to fidget with a part of your clothing.

If only he knew how much I really liked him-

“Of course I do, Finnick.” You bite your lip while hoping that he doesn’t notice the effect his words and lingering touches have on you.

Don’t think about this right now-

“I’m glad someone here does.”

His comment earns his a golden stare down from Katniss, and you lightly smack his shoulder before continuing on in silence.

Peeta cuts through the vines ahead as creatures of the jungles - ones that you hope aren’t here to eat you - make various noises that only set your nerves over the edge. Katniss falls behind you and Finnick, and you can only hope that you’ve set her mind off of killing Finnick, even if it’s just for a moment.

You continue to walk on, but you pause once you hear Katniss’ footsteps stop. Finnick doesn’t take notice of the situation, but you can tell that she’s seen something worthy of alarm.

Peeta continues to swing the machete when you see a small reflection of light on a bush in front of him. Your eyes widen in alarm as you take a small step back.

The forcefield-!

“Peeta, no!” Katniss screams at Peeta strikes the forcefield.

Sparks fly as you instinctually cover your eyes with one arm, and you use the other arm to shield Katniss as much as possible. Peeta is blown back by the impact, and you’re knocked to the ground along with Finnick and Katniss.

Katniss is quick to crawl to her knees as you follow suit.

“Peeta?”

Your heart aches as the weakness in her voice laces around every syllable of his name.

She cares for the boy, more than she lets on.

She gently caresses Peeta’s face as you watch from a small distance behind her - she needs to check over him herself, to make sure he’s okay-

“He’s not breathing! He’s not breathing!”

You push Finnick towards the two of them, and Finnick harshly pushes Katniss out of the way so he can attempt to save Peeta. It’s a standard medical procedure that all District 4 families know by heart, but you place a reassuring hand on Katniss’ shoulder after she tries to pull an arrow on Finnick.

You know that words won’t do anything to comfort Katniss, and she rushes to Peeta’s side as you’re forced to be an uncomfortable spectator.

“Peeta, Peeta-“

You place a hand over your mouth as tears start to form in your eyes.

Come on, Peeta…

“Come on, come on!”

Finnick matches your worries as he continues compressions on Peeta.

“Please wake up.”

Katniss’ voice cracks which cracks the dam in your eyes as you begin to cry.

Katniss loves Peeta like I love-

You do your best to wipe the tears from your eyes as you imagine how the Capitol is enjoying the show. They’re watching three fierce competitors do their best to bring back another victor - a first in the history of the Hunger Games, you’re sure. You’re not even doing much but displaying your heart on your sleeve, and that’s enough for you to do. People stay attached and are sympathetic, and you can only hope that it’ll continue after you commit the worst crime, betraying the Capitol, after you get Katniss and Peeta out of here.

Peeta takes a deep breath, and you deeply sigh in relief as Finnick backs off to let Katniss and Peeta have a moment.

Once Finnick stands up, you pull him into a comforting hug, but you’re not sure if the hug is more for you or for him.

“I can’t-“

“I know.” He places a gentle hand on your back as you watch Katniss and Peeta interact.

“Do you wanna stand up?”

“Yeah.”

Once Peeta stands up, Katniss pulls Peeta into a hug as you let go of Finnick. You notice that Finnick’s hand doesn’t move as your heart pounds - this isn’t the moment nor is it your moment - as his eyes never leave Katniss and Peeta.

He knows, and I know.

Katniss throws a rock at the forcefield as a small group of sparks come from the collision. Peeta follows behind Katniss, and you follow behind Peeta as Finnick brings up the rear.

The next rock she throws reproduces similar results, but you notice that Finnick places a protective hand on your shoulder. You make your way through the jungle floor as Katniss throws another rock at the forcefield.

“Hold on.” She says before moving further ahead of the group. She climbs the largest tree she can find, and the three of you wait in silence before she comes back down.

“The forcefield is a dome,” Katniss reports after coming back down, “so we’re at the edge of the arena. I couldn’t find any signs of fresh water.”

Your throat dries up further at the mention of water. None of you will last long in this heat without any sort of hydration.

“It’s gonna get dark soon, we’ll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp - take turns sleeping.” Finnick sits next to you while looking directly at Katniss. “I’ll take first watch.”

Katniss scoffs before replying.

“Not a chance.”

Finnick gives her a disapproving look before grabbing his trident and standing up.

“Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called saving his life. If I wanted to kill either of you, I would’ve done it by now.”

Finnick sticks his trident in the ground as Katniss continues to have a glare-off with him. Eventually, Finnick takes his trident and offers you a hand up. You quietly take it before shooting Peeta and Katniss an apologetic look - not your first, but certainly not your last.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll take first watch.” Katniss instructs Peeta mores then telling him, but he reluctantly stands up.

“Just for a little bit.”

She nods as he moves to sit farther away from you and Finnick, but closer to Katniss.

He doesn’t trust us because she doesn’t.

You squeeze Finnick’s hand as you sit a few feet from the forcefield.

“Let me talk to her tonight. I have a way of charming people.”

“She’s tough to crack-“

“I did it before, in the practice room,” You say with determination while looking at him, “and I know I can do it again.”

He doesn’t answer, but he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

That’s good enough for me.

Peeta lays peacefully asleep as you sit on a nearby rock by Katniss and Finnick.

“How’s Peeta?” He softly asks.

“Is he well?” You add on while trying to break the palpable tension between you three.

Not three, but if they’re going to argue, then all of us will suffer.

“He’s okay, I think, just…” She trails off for a moment, “dehydrated, like the rest of us.”

Familiar music draws your attention to the skies as today’s victors-turned-victims display on the forcefield. There’s familiar faces, ones that you had come to befriend and love… it’s enough to drive you to tears. As the display continues, Finnick places a hand on your shoulder for comfort.

It’s not enough, but it’ll do.

Peeta awakens too, and the four of you sit in contemplative silence as the display finally comes to a close.

“Eight.” Katniss says as you wave off tears.

“I’m fine, Finnick,” You gently brush his hand off your shoulder as you look up to the sky again, “but look at the sky!”

A small canister attached to a parachute floats down and lands a few feet from Katniss, and she’s quick to gather the canister. She opens the canister with easy, which contains a note plus something else you can’t quite see.

“Drink up?”

“What is it?” Finnick asks as you approach Katniss behind him.

“It’s from Haymitch,” Katniss picks the item out of the canister, “I think it’s a spiel.”

Katniss rushes past Finnick to pound the spiel into a nearby tree with a rock. Peeta rushes to Katniss’ side as the four of you watch and eventually see the spiel product water.

Haymitch did his part, which means that I have to do mine.

“I counted twelve.” Katniss notes as you look up to the sky.

“It’s midnight-” Finnick tries to add.

“-Or the number of districts.” Katniss challenges as you shake your head.

They can never agree on the simple things, huh?

A series of lightning strikes on a large tree in the distance draws your attention.

“Well, if you two aren’t going to sleep,” Finnick says as you nod in confirmation, “then I will.”

“Alright.” Katniss says as Finnick gets up from his post.

“Goodnight, Finnick.”

“Goodnight, Sunny,” Finnick looks back and offers you a warm smile, “make sure to get some rest.”

“I will.”

He silently walks away as you turn your attention to Katniss.

“I’m sorry about Finnick, he can be-“

“Why did you try to save Peeta earlier? You don’t know him.” Katniss bluntly asks.

“Peeta is important to you, and I wanted to spare you the pain that so many others face.” You truthfully answer as Katniss studies your face with scrutiny.

“You don’t know me either-“

“-Katniss, if I knew every person I’ve ever helped, I wouldn’t be Sunny,” You tell her, “and I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t that person. I used to think Sunny was a persona, but it’s become who I truly am.”

“Were you someone different before the games?”

“I think we all were, if that’s not obvious enough,” You glance at Peeta before returning your attention to Katniss, “but I think the Hunger Games showed me who I truly was. Wouldn’t wish this shit on anyone else, though.”

“I-“

“I think you’ll discover that we’re not so different after all, Katniss,” You say before standing up, “but I wish you a good night. I hope the night is uneventful for you.”

You walk a small distance before turning back.

“Oh, and don’t be too hard on Finnick. He’s been through a lot more than he lets on.”

“Tell him to back off first.”

You chuckle as you lay down close to Finnick, but far enough that your beating heart doesn’t threaten to blow out your eardrums.

“Run, run! The fog is poison!”

Katniss’ words send you from slumber to alert as you’re the first on your feet. You move down the side of the hill as Finnick and Peeta catch up to you. You let Katniss pass you as Finnick pushes you in front so he takes up the rear.

You continue to run through the forestry without a second thought as the thick fog chases you. The fog suddenly approaches from the right, and Peeta is quickly to avoid it, along with the rest of you.

As you round a corner, the fog then approaches from the left. You dodge the fog like you dodged arrows in your original Hunger Games. It was too easy, but you were concerned for Finnick since the fog was nearly kissing you.

When the four of you make it to a clearing, the fog makes a semicircle around you, and Peeta’s forced to lead the group in another direction as you aimlessly follow in the hopes that you’ll survive this.

The fog seems to increase in speed, and you scream in agony once it touches your skin. You barely avoid Katniss, who tripped in front of you, and Peeta goes back to save her. He’s burned by the fog too, and Katniss pulls him up before they follow behind you.

You continue in front of the group this time, and you hear Finnick’s shrieks from a distance, but you can’t go back for him.

As long as he’s yelling, he’s alive.

It tears your heart into shreds to hear him, to hear those kids behind you, in so much pain. You immediately turn around when you hear a body fall to the ground.

“Peeta!” Katniss sticks next to him like a loyal dog as you watch from a safe distance. Finnick approaches the two of them, and he doesn’t hesitate to help Katniss by wrapping one of Peeta’s arms around his shoulder. As Katniss wraps the other arm around his shoulder, Finnick motions you to continue forward.

You run forward, safe from most harm, as the other members of your group continue to bear most of the brunt from the fog. A sharp hill awaits you, but you quickly navigate it as Katniss, Finnick, and Peeta fall, quite literally, behind you.

You cry in pain as you touch the back of your neck. You spot a nearby pool of water as the trio behind you makes a rough landing.

You watch in horror as the fog approaches, but it’s stopped by an invisible wall that barely prevents any injury to the rest of you. Your attention snaps back to the water - your neck really fucking hurts - as you approach the water. When you submerge yourself in the water, you sigh in relief as the stinging pain caused by the water rids you of your injury.

Once you’ve cleaned yourself up, you pull Katniss, the only person who seems to be awake, towards the water. With her determination and your strength, you get her to the edge of the water. You gently place one of her hands in the water, and she screams before the poison is released from her hand.

“The water- the water helped-“ Her strangled cry is heard by Peeta, who starts to pull himself towards the water as well.

You immediately move to Finnick’s side as you deliberately and slowly start to move him towards the water. Once Katniss and Peeta are mostly finished, they help you push Finnick fully into the water. He screams in agony as the three of you pour water over his body.

“Finnick-“

Emotions threaten to pour from your eyes and your mouth, but the sometimes-stoic Katniss composes herself before you can truly express how scared you are to lose Finnick.

“We need our weapons.”

Peeta and Katniss move to gather the weapons as you stay, dedicated, by Finnick’s side.

“C’mon, you need to get up. Who else is going to argue with Katniss over the simplest things?”

Finnick grumbles for a second before softly laughing.

At least I’ve made this shitty situation better for someone.

As Peeta gathers water from a nearby tree, you sit and pour water all over yourself in order to keep cool and clean any remaining toxins off of your skin. Finnick and Katniss do the same, but you give them space to talk things out with their words… instead of their fists.

They both mutter apologies to one another before Finnick pauses to stare blankly ahead. Your eyes catch sight of what he’s looking so intently at.

Mutts.

A gentle nod to Katniss alerts her of the situation as well, and she stands along with Finnick. You slowly try to back away before noticing that some are approaching from behind. You immediately backpedal next to Finnick and Katniss as they’re the only ones with proper weapons.

Where’s Peeta?

“Peeta.”

“Yeah?” Peeta looks up from the spiel towards Katniss.

“Back away from the tree, slowly.”

A growling mutt a few inches from his face causes Peeta to slowly back up towards the three of you. Once you’re all in the water, the mutts growl and slowly close in as your heart pounds.

What am I supposed to do with no weapon?

“Get to the beach.” Katniss tries to move towards the newly sighted Cornucopia, but two mutts block your last escape route.

Katniss pulls her bow back as the mutts continue to advance on you. A mutt makes the first leap towards you and Katniss, but Peeta quickly strikes it down with his machete. They all growl angrily before one lunges towards Katniss from the opposite side. She quickly shoots it down with an arrow before killing another when it’s barely tried to leap at her.

Peeta swipes at a mutt that approaches you before gently pushing you behind him.

“I owe you one for earlier.” Peeta recalls the fight at the Cornucopia, and you nod before centering yourself between Katniss, Peeta, and Finnick.

Finnick strikes a mutt down with his trident before smacking another back. Peeta continues to aimlessly swipe at a few mutts to keep them away, and you duck as Katniss shoots one over his shoulder. A mutt then jumps on Peeta and tries to sink its teeth into him, but he guts it with a blade through the stomach.

Katniss and Finnick work in harmony to push the mutts back before she successfully hits three mutts with her arrows and stabs the fourth with her bow. Peeta pulls his knife from the mutt before you help him up. The onslaught continues for a few moments which spreads seconds into eternal moments. You feel useless, but keeping yourself out of harm’s way is the best way you can help everyone.

A mutt tackles Katniss into the water, but Peeta quickly kills it and helps Katniss up.

“Come on, we got to get to the beach!”

Peeta leads the way as you follow behind Katniss. You turn back to assure that Finnick is still there - you’re worrying about him when he has a weapon, he’ll be fine, Sunny - as you try to navigate your way to the beach.

A mutt jumps on Katniss and Peeta which knocks them further away. A separate mutt eyes you before jumping, and you attempt to send a punch its way. It takes a bite on your outstretched arm as you cry out in pain. You manage to wrestle your arm out of its grasp before Finnick spears it with his trident.

“How bad is-“

A few small incisions line your dominant arm, and they sting like hell, but you can’t focus on that now.

“I’ll live.”

Finnick grabs your non-damaged hand as he spears another mutt that dares to approach him. He then lets go of your hand to kill a mutt that jumps on Katniss, but once she’s back on her feet, his hand finds yours again.

You gasp as you notice someone in camouflage with large bite marks covering their neck.

“Who is it?”

“It’s a Morphling,” Peeta explains to Katniss, “C’mon, help me get her.”

They grab the dying Morphling before dragging her to the beach. More mutts approach as Finnick lets go of your hand and pushes you ahead.

“I’ve got this - just watch them.”

You nod before turning to follow Katniss and Peeta. Despite your painful arm injury, you run through the forest just as you did before. Pain was an adrenaline booster for you, and it was a scratch compared to the injuries you got from messing around on rock cliffs and beaches back in District 4.

You make it to the beach as Katniss and Peeta bring the girl into the water. Finnick tumbles in behind you before quickly recovering and pushing the remaining mutts back. Once he realizes that the mutts aren’t going to follow him, his eyes meet yours.

“You arm-“

“Look,” You point at the sky as another canister falls from the sky towards you, “I told you I’d live. I might not be the capitol darling, but they can’t let go of their little sister that easily.”

Finnick reaches the canister before you do, and he opens it to quickly to dig out the gauze and skin-applicable pain medicine.

“I suppose they wouldn’t mind seeing the Capitol darling tend to their little sister, then?” Finnick’s lips quirk into a teasing smile as you sit on the beach and admire the sky.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Then that’s the only opinion that matters.” He sits next to you, and you present your arm to him. “You’re tougher than you act, honey.”

“I thought you knew that already,” You look away for a moment to hide your embarrassment, “after all, I did learn from an amazing mentor.”

The medicine feels cold once it touches your skin, and you sigh in relief as the pain starts to fade away.

“Did anyone leave a note?” You ask as Finnick looks away for a moment. “Oh, so I’m the one who has an admirer, and you get-“

You yelp when Finnick starts to harshly apply the medicine.

“-Jealous much?” You roll your eyes as Finnick laughs.

“Is it bad that I want your eyes on me and me alone?”

You’re left speechless as you bite your lip nervously. The invisible tension, the string that draws you two together, is finally pulled to its breaking point as you realize how close Finnick truly is.

“It-“ You pause for a moment as your sunshine threatens to slip and reveal some deeper emotion in your heart, the one that you named before this fresh hell started. “It depends on what you’re going to do about it.”

Finnick sets down the medicine to grab the gauze, and once Finnick returns close to you, you push yourself on top of him to give him a kiss to release the emotions buried deep in your heart.

The sunshine clouds over as a storm brews, but you’re not scared of the damage that this thunderstorm will cause your mind. You’d accept once the outcome that you weren’t the one for him, that the signs were wrong and all in your head, and that-

Finnick kisses you back.

Oh shit.

Finnick kisses you. In the 75th Hunger Games. On TV. In front of thousands of his admirers.

Oh shit!

You pull away and place a hand over your mouth as you contemplate the absolute shitstorm you’ve just released on the both of you.

“You’re not a bad kisser, if that’s what you’re embarrassed about-“

“Finnick!” You squeak before smacking his arm.

“There’s only room for two people who can’t admit that they love each,” He nods at Katniss and Peeta in the distance, “and that image doesn’t quite fit either of us.”

“What are we, then?”

“Whatever you want to be.”

tagging -> @yokolesbianism

#THG #thg finnick #The Hunger Games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games x reader #fanfic #finnick odair #finnick imagine #the hunger games fluff

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ctitan98official · 3 months

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Yandere!Mother Miranda and Yandere!Alcina x Y/N lactation fic part 2

Alright, lately I’ve been getting a lot of requests to continue this, so here we go! Read the first part here! Let’s get into it!

You panic as Mother Miranda holds you tightly against her. “No! N-no, please stop!” You begin to sob as she easily opens your mouth and places her nipple into it.

“Shh, shh, little one. Mommy needs to feed you now,” Miranda urges gently. “You’ve had a long day and it’s time for some dinner,” She says and begins bouncing you in her arms.

You struggle for a moment and manage to turn your head away from her breast. What the hell kind of torture is she trying to put you through?!

But… As Miranda looks down at you once again and captures your gaze, her beautiful silver eyes don’t hold anything but… Love. She smiles softly at you and leans down to kiss your forehead. “It’s alright, my darling. Your mama and I absolutely adore you,” She promises. “You are a dream come true for us,” She explains and looks at Alcina.

The lady of the castle chuckles warmly at her wife’s statement, holding her tighter and stroking your little face. “It’s true, draga. We can’t wait to introduce you to your older sisters,” She agrees.

Older… Sisters? They already have a family and they want you… To be a part of it? It catches you off guard to see how they’ve already made plans to include you in their lives. They are also very affectionate with you. When you first woke up, you were sure they had concocted some evil scheme to kidnap you and torture you. But… Now you’re not quite sure.

True, they could just be lulling you into a false sense of security, but you just… Don’t really think that’s the case.

You decide to proceed cautiously and just hope for the best… You’re too exhausted to put up much of a fight anyway.

As you study Miranda curiously, she can’t help but giggle at the serious look on your face. “I think we have a genius on our hands, dear,” Miranda proudly says to Alcina.

Alcina laughs as well. “It seems they take after their mommy,” She says and kisses the side of Miranda’s head.

Miranda hums contentedly at her wife before softly cupping your cheek and carefully opening your mouth again. She places her nipple to your lips once more, urging you to latch on. “Eat for mommy, baby. I know your little tummy is so empty,” She encourages, wincing a bit at how full and swollen her breasts are.

You look at the pained expression on Miranda’s face. As weird as this situation is, you don’t want her to hurt because of you. She’s been nothing but nice to you so far.

You huff. You know what? Screw it. You’re starving anyway. Your lips gently wrap around her nipple and you begin to suckle.

Miranda sucks in a relieved gasp at this. Physically, it feels amazing… But emotionally it feels even better. Her little one is eating finally. It brings her a great sense of calm to watch you nurse from her. She begins rocking you slowly and smiles happily up at her wife.

Alcina’s heart melts at how cute Miranda is. “You are so proud of yourself, aren’t you, draga?” She grins.

Miranda laughs softly and lies her head back on Alcina’s shoulder. “I must say that I am, my love,” She says.

The two are silent for a moment as they watch you suckle before Alcina clears her throat. “I… Really want them to meet the girls,” She says, excited but also very nervous.

The hesitation on Alcina’s face confuses Miranda. She grabs her wife’s hand and squeezes it. “They will soon, my love,” She says. “But… You look so anxious,” She points out. “What’s the matter?”

Alcina sighs as she rubs your head. “I know that Daniela will be so excited about finally being a big sister… But Cassandra and Bela can be so… Jealous,” She says carefully. “I guess I’m just feeling… Guilty for wanting another little one so badly,” She admits. “What if the girls think we won’t love them as much anymore?”

Miranda adopts a knowing expression at this. Alcina is always so hard on herself. “I believe you’re thinking about this the wrong way, my darling,” She says. “All Bela wants to do is please us. Another child will certainly be difficult for her to get used to, but not impossible. If we ask her to make an effort with Y/N, she will. Once she gets to know her little sibling, she’ll be just as taken with them as we are.”

Alcina hadn’t thought about that. Bela is so sweet. Of course she’ll warm up to her youngest sibling if she and Miranda ask her to try. She is a great big sister already.

However, Alcina remembers her second oldest daughter. “But what about Cassandra?” She asks her wife.

Miranda can’t help but chuckle at the unsure look on Alcina’s face. Her wife is so cute. “Cassandra is definitely… Protective,” Miranda concedes. “And while I know she would never intentionally hurt Y/N… It’s possible she might accidentally be a bit… Rough with them at first,” Miranda says quietly.

Alcina and Miranda both share a look at this.

At this point, you’re not even paying attention to what the two women are saying. You feel too… Little now. But, you do fuss a bit as you try to nurse. Miranda’s milk is sweet and warm. You like it a lot, however, you’re a little frustrated. Your mouth is already tired from nursing but you want more. You’ll need to get used to eating like this, it seems.

Miranda shushes you softly and pats your little back before she speaks again. “Everyone will have to get used to each other,” She says to her wife, expertly shifting you in her arms and helping you latch onto her breast better. “I think we’ll just need to supervise Y/N when they’re with their sisters for a while,” She suggests and strokes a finger across your cheek.

You settle down at Miranda’s actions and are able to suckle easier.

The priestess soon notices your eyes are growing heavy. She grins and looks at Alcina. “But for now… Maybe you should hold them for a bit?” She offers.

Alcina’s golden eyes glitter with excitement. “Really, draga?!” She asks, uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

Miranda giggles at this. “Absolutely, my love. You have been so patient,” She tells her. Miranda carefully takes her finger and breaks your latch.

Your eyebrows furrow and you whimper at the sudden departure of Miranda’s breast. You find yourself missing the sensation of suckling.

“It’s alright, my love. Mama wants to hold you now,” Miranda tells you and kisses your forehead. She hands you over to Alcina who eagerly cradles you in her arms.

“Hello, my little one,” Alcina says softly and kisses your cheek. She is absolutely beaming as she holds her youngest for the first time.

You immediately relax into Alcina’s warm and plush chest. While Miranda is also very comfy, Alcina has the perfect body type to snuggle against. She begins purring gently which quickly knocks you out.

As you begin to fall asleep, your eyes open for just a second. Long enough to see the two women share a tender kiss. For some reason, this makes you feel… Safe. They’re a loving couple who just want you to join their family. It’s like they really are your parents.

It’s strange how quickly you’ve grown accustomed to this arrangement, but you’ve never really been taken care of before. It’s… Nice.

The quiet ambience of the room further lulls you to sleep. But what will await you when you wake up?

Note: Yes, I’m lazy and Miranda and Alcina just automatically know Y/N’s name 😂 Hope you enjoyed!

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 shitpost #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #mother miranda #mother miranda x y/n #mother miranda x reader #mirancina #lactation #breastfeeding #age regression #nonsexual age regression #angst #yandere imagines

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highdreaming · 1 year

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OMG FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR PEDRI , I've been dying to find a writer who actually writes for him. Can you do an imagine where reader goes to watch the barca vs sevilla match and pedri scores THE BEST GOAL OF THE YEAR And how it's like after? Take ur time!!

Goal of the Year

💢 All the works are pure fictions, for entertainment purposes only so please, read it at your own will.

Find more at: Masterlist

Pedri x (female) reader

AN: Thank you so much for requesting for Pedri, there is such a huge lack of content for him that I'm so shocked. I really assumed there would be more works about him. Please like, reblog and give me feedback!

“and he scores!!!”

As soon as you see Pedri sending the ball towards the inside of the goal, you burst out with screams.

The whole stadium blows up with cheers and applause as Pedri scores. You stand up, excitedly jumping and hugging Fernando, your boyfriend's brother, who is also crazy with happiness.

The stadium's large screen shows Pedri's complicated pass over and over again until he manages to score the goal and your heart swells with pride when you see how good your boyfriend is.

A commotion near the stands makes you snap your eyes away from the screen, and you see Pedri coming towards you, glowing with happiness.

You run towards him and throw yourself into his arms, indifferent to his perspiration.

”I’m so proud of you, babe!”

You're only able to say those short words before he hungrily kisses in front of the whole stadium, the big screen capturing this sweet euphoric moment between you and Pedri.

#@highdreaming #football imagines #football blurbs #football fanfiction #football fiction #football fanfic #football blurb #pedro gonzalez x reader #pedro gonzalez imagine #pedro gonzalez fiction #pedro gonzalez #pedri x reader #pedri imagines #pedri #pedri blurb #pedri drabble #pedri oneshot

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forever-rogue · 2 years

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you’ve no idea how much your nurse Steve blurbs have captured my wee heart. 💘 the last one where he lost a patient, the little girl… BROKEN. The way that the reader is his rock, keeping him grounded and sane, and how much he loves her — I’m — 🥲

Him starting to say in the last blurb how he couldn’t fathom if something happened to her.. my angsty heart cannot help but imagine something did happen. She loves of course because FUQ NO WE AINT DYIN. but just imagine she gets into a car wreck or something and she’s unresponsive upon arrival and when nurse Steve walks into help and sees that it’s his angel??? Some heart wrenching angst to fluffy fluff on that would just be so good, because he is just so full of heart and would be a mess yet so determined to not let her go.

idk I just know you would write that beautifully if inspired at all by it

AN | Oh boy, you got me with this one. I couldn’t say no 🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language, Car Accident (with non-descriptive mentions of injuries)

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve stifled a yawn as he looked at the clock. His yawn quickly turned into a groan when he saw how early in the evening it still was - not even ten and he was working until seven the following morning. He really needed a break; maybe he’d finally use some of that vacation time he had saved up and get away with you for a little while. You both deserved a break.

He finished the coffee from the thermos you packed him along with a sweet little note telling him how much you loved him and how proud you were of him. He looked through a few charts, but found that nothing particularly exciting had happened that day, which in the emergency room, was definitely a good thing.

But his calm was quickly interrupted when another of the nurses came into the room with a worried look on her face.

“Harrington,” she sounded like she had run all the way from across the hospital, “we need you in room three - stat. Car accident and the victim is unresponsive.”

“Fuck,” he set everything down and followed after her, his mind already spinning with all the horrible possibilities of what could have happened. He’d seen plenty of car accidents before, but he also knew that an unresponsive victim was generally not a good thing. But he was also experienced enough to know that he needed to keep a calm and cool head in order to perform to the best of availabilities.

He could already see the commotion as he got ready to enter the room. He looked at the paramedic that had brought the patient in, “young woman, mid-to-late twenties, unresponsive upon arrival. Vitals are bouncing around, but breathing is constricted.”

“Thanks,” Steve moved towards the doctor he worked with, instructing whoever didn’t need to be in the room to get out so they could focus. Steve looked at the gurney for a moment and grimaced when he saw the blood and torn clothing. The doctor started going over a few things and he looked up to try and get a better look at his patient and his heart just stopped.

“Harrington?” the doctor noticed he hadn’t been paying attention and that his face had changed into a worry of sheer panic, “Steve?”

“No,” was all he managed to choke, attempting to push past the doctor, “no, no, no.”

“What is going on?”

“That’s…” tears had already welled up in his eyes and were pouring down his cheeks. His absolute worst nightmare had come true, “that’s my wife.”

Everything around him started to sound fuzzy as blood pounded in his years, and he felt himself shaking. Out of all the things in the world that could have happened. It had to be you. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fucking fair. It should have been him if anything - not you. Not his angel.

“Your wife?” the doctor frowned as he put a hand on Steve’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. All Steve could do was nod as he tried to keep from having a mental breakdown, “Steve, I think you need to step away and send Owens in. I don’t know if it’s going to be conducive for you to be here right now.”

“No!” he wiped at his eyes and exhaled deeply before shaking his head in determination, “I’m not leaving her. I can’t. I promised…I-I promised I’d always take care of her and keep her safe. I have to help her.”

“Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Yes,” he’d never give up. Never ever - not with you. He would do everything to keep you safe, “yes.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your eyes felt so heavy and dry, like you could barely open them. But you finally managed to pry them open, regret set in at the bright lights all around, regardless of the fact that your vision was bleary. There was an obnoxious beeping coming from somewhere near your right and you wished it would turn off. Maybe it was Steve’s alarm and he was oversleeping?

Your body felt so heavy and there was an odd feeling around your ribs. You felt so groggy and confused; what was going on? You didn’t even remember going to bed and this definitely didn’t feel like your comfortable bed at home.

“Steve?” you barely recognized the sound of your own voice. It sounded so rough and croaky, and your throat was dry. You were getting worried…everything felt so wrong, “Stevie?”

When you didn’t hear him, you whimpered slightly before attempting to sit up. It was then that you felt the sheering pain shooting through your middle. You cried out in pain and then blinked away the tears that had welled up, feeling your vision slowly start to clear up. Your breathing was stunted as you couldn’t even inhale completely. You felt the needles in your arm and looked at them, following the line to the beeping monitor and bag of fluids. Hospital. You were in the hospital again. It felt like you were way too intimately acquainted with this place.

“Angel?” you looked up and spotted Steve in the doorway, his face distraught but relieved as he basically ran over to you. He dropped to his knees at your side, grabbing your hand that wasn’t all hooked up in his, holding onto it as tightly as he could without hurting you, “you’re awake. Oh my God. You’re awake. Baby, I-I was so worried.”

“Stevie,” it broke your heart to see him so upset. Almost as much as his heart broke to see you in this position. You squeezed his hand as best as you could and gave him a weak little smile, “‘m here, love. ‘s all okay.”

“I said I would always keep you safe,” you pulled your hand from his and gently wiped away the tears that had rolled down his cheek, “I couldn’t even do that. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” you insisted softly, “you’re not the reason I’m here right now. I don’t think so anyway. What happened? Why am I here, Stevie?”

“Sweetheart,” he exhaled heavily as he met your eyes, “you were in a car accident. A hit and run.”

“Oh,” you blinked a few times to try and bring up your memories, but nothing seemed to work. Your dry lips pulled into a deep frown, “I don’t remember that. I-I don’t…the last thing I remember was getting into the car. That was it.”

“It’s okay,” he wiped away the tears you hadn’t even realized spilled down your cheeks, “it’s okay. It’s probably a good thing you don’t remember the accident. Honey, what were you doing out so late?”

“I…” you could see how hurt and upset he was, the pain etched into the ochre of his eyes. They were normally so bright and cheery, but now they held nothing but sadness. You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, “it’s nothing important.”

“Do you not remember?” he tenderly brushed his knuckles across your cheek. You didn’t want to tell him the truth because you knew it would hurt him, but you couldn’t lie to him either, “sweetheart?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Of course not. Why on earth would I be mad?”

“I was…I was coming here, to see you. You forgot your lunch at home and I knew how busy you get and how hard you work so I wanted to surprise you by bringing it,” you could barely stand to look in his eyes, knowing immediately where his mind was going. He was blaming himself. You squeezed his hand as best as you could, “don’t. Please don’t blame yourself for this, Steve.”

“How can I not?” he pulled his hand out of yours and rubbed at his tired eyes, “none of this would have happened if I hadn’t forgotten my lunch. If you weren’t such an angel…I…if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Steve Harrington,” you reached over and put your hand on his face and made it so he was looking into your eyes, “do not blame yourself for this. This is not your fault, yeah? And honestly, I’m going to be a little selfish here, but right now, I need you Stevie.”

“You’re right,” he held your hand to his face, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm, “you’re right. I love you so much. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have the best wife ever.”

“All ‘cause I broke my stupid ankle,” you laughed lightly, regretting it immediately as pain seared through your body, “you know, we’ve met in this stupid ER way too many times. We gotta stop it.”

“You,” he teased softly, “I should keep you in a bubble suit all the time.”

You smiled at him, admiring his handsome features along with the heart of gold he had. You really did love him more than you could ever put into words, “I hate to ask, but what’s the damage, Nurse Harrington? How long am I stuck here for?”

“I think the fact that you still have your sense of humor is a good sign,” he whispered, “the doctor said he’ll let me take you home tomorrow. They just want to monitor your vitals to make sure everything is stable.”

“And what exactly are we looking for to be stable?” you eyes him curiously, “you can tell me what’s wrong, Steve. I can handle it.”

“Okay,” he nodded, knowing full well he couldn’t hide anything from you and you could easily ask anyone else at the hospital to clue you in, “a few broken ribs, a decent amount of bruising, some lacerations to your arms and face and…sweetheart don’t panic because it’ll be okay-”

“Steve.”

“Your leg is broken,” he let out and you paused for a moment before looking down at your leg. It was covered with a bright pink cast. You looked at him and he expected you to break into a fit of tears but instead you laughed as softly as you could without hurting your ribs, “baby?!”

“It’s not funny, in reality, but it’s funny right now,” you leaned back against the scratchy, thin pillow and let out a long sigh, “first it was a broken ankle and now it’s my leg? I think I’d rather laugh than cry right now because I know as soon as I get home I’m just going to be upset.”

“You are…something else,” he shook his head fondly before pressing the most gentle of kisses to your forehead, “my angel. If it’s any sort of consolation, I am going to be taking the next month off to be at home with you. With your leg and ribs you’re going to need some help for a while - whether or not you want to admit it, my stubborn girl.”

“Steve, you can’t,” you shook your head, a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth, “that’s your vacation time, love. You should save that for you. To do something fun and relax. Don’t waste it on me!”

“First of all, it’s not a waste when I’m spending time with you,” he insisted firmly, “and secondly, it’s my time to use however I want. I want to spend it with you. We can be lazy together at home!”

“Steve.”

“Baby, we can even get someone to come clean the house and cook for us if that makes you feel better,” he insisted with that soft, dopey smile that you adored, “and someone that’ll do our laundry. It’ll be like vacation then. But - just so we’re clear, Ms. Harrington, nothing you say or do will change my mind, so you’re going to have to deal with it.”

“Mrs. Harrington,” you playfully corrected, “and fine. I know when you’ve got your mind set to something I can’t change it. So…thank you. I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too,” he brushed a few rogue strands of hair out of your face, “but now, angel, it’s time for you to get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the sound of his soft snores next to you. You peeked open one eye and shifted onto your side as best as you could to get a better look at him. He might have called you his angel, but he looked nothing short of angelic himself. You smiled to yourself as you reached over and brushed some hair out of his face. His full, ridiculously kissable lips were tugged up into a small smile and there were no lines of worry on his face. Perfection personified.

“You might as well take a picture if you’re going to keep staring,” you snorted in amusement, and he didn’t even bother to open an eye, “I know it’s a pretty sight.”

“The prettiest of all,” you agreed, sorely tempted to go to the dresser and search for the polaroid camera. But, given your current state, it would have taken about five hours and defeated the whole purpose, “you look good like this.”

“Never as good as you,” he insisted softly, “are you hungry or thirsty? I can-”

“I’m perfect,” you insisted softly, snuggling back under the covers and making yourself comfortable, “I don’t wanna get up yet. Just want to lay here with you for a little while longer.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” he tenderly wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest as best as he could. It might have been your favorite spot in the entire world and you relaxed as his intoxicating scent washed over you, “how’re you feeling today, angel?”

“Better,” you admitted with a small smile, prompting him to press a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth, “a little bit better everyday.”

“Good,” he whispered as he stroked your back, tracing aimless shapes into your soft, naked flesh, “that’s what I like to hear.”

“You always take such good care of me, Nurse Harrington,” this time it was your turn to press a kiss to his lips.

“That’s my job,” he grinned lazily, looking far more handsome than anyone should ever have, “as your medical provider, your best friend, and your husband. I love you, angel.”

“I love you too,” you tucked yourself into his chest and let yourself be lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart, “I love you too.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #nurse!steve #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery x you

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noonajoe · 1 year

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He Protects You From Reporters (Bokuto x Reader)

"I'm always proud of her"

Characters: Bokuto Koutaro x Chubby!Reader

Word Count: 652

©noonajoe (Published on 11 March 2023 - 21:14 Bangkok Time) this story is not going to be sold, modified, or translated in any manner.

He’s a really damn good boyfriend

He met you because you’re the branding manager of his team in order to promote your team to an international volleyball match

When he saw you, you were a little overweight and you were pretty cool when you present her ideas and talk to other members. Upon that, he’s really curious about you, during the process of knowing each other, Bokuto learned that you’re really organized, and tidy, and also you’re always giving him comfort, also some advice when he’s in the bad mood.

Those sides of you make him want to get closer to you when you ask him to accompany you to the gym, he’s getting more *obsessed* with you

Sometimes got jealous because day by that you were not getting skinnier, but just a little chubby and he got jealous sometimes when some boys complimented about your changes.

He’s so proud of you, and in the end, he confesses to you that he’s been liking you since the first time they know each other.

But she worried so much that, ‘she’ dated Bokuto? The most famous player at MSBY Black Jackal? In the end, she asked him to give her more time to think

At first, Bokuto frowned hearing that, but he beamed showing his bubbly side that he was okay waiting for you!

Suddenly, when you both go out of the gym, many reporters and fans already capture pictures of both of you, asking Bokuto about who is this person beside him.

You are shocked and panicked when you realize you didn’t have a mask to cover your face. All you have is a shirt and a hat.

He quickly moved you behind him so the reporters can't have your picture

“If you make us uncomfortable in the future, you will stand with my lawyer that you had been disturbing someone’s private life,” he said, you hide behind him while he’s grabbing your hand tightly.

“Who’s that chubby girl you hide? Is that your partner?” one fan asked while recording him with their phone.

He remained silent, and said, “Yeah, and?”

You shocked hearing his answer, put a little pinch on his back

“And please don’t use ‘chubs’ like that, she’s just a girl, no need to add that mocking adjective,” he said with an angry expression, he knows how dirty an obsessive fan is.

“One more step and I will ask for gym CCTV recording as proof you were disturbing our lives,” he asked. After that, he grabs your hand and went to your house.

“Bokuto-san, I didn’t give your answer yet,” you said with a little smile.

“Uh- sorry! Okay? I will clarify anything at tomorrow’s press conference! I’m so sorry Y/N that really shocked me as well :(“ he apologizes to you and bowed to you with a funny gesture.

“No! I mean, you… are so cool, Bokuto-san. Thank you, that’s really bold of you” she said, and he suddenly realized he still grabs your hand.

“Ah! Sorry! I didn't mean to” he let go of your hand, and suddenly the situation gets awkward.

“So… for tomorrow…. I will make this right, I will tell them I’m just shocked, and you’re just my friend… and-”

“It’s fine”

“Wha- but… you’re”

“I accept your confession, Bokuto-san”

“Y-you don't have to if it's because of my dumb action beforehand! I'm still waiting even if it takes years, ok?!”

“No, I like you Bokuto Kotauro-san. Your brave side just a minute ago just made me like you more” she smiled, grabbed his hand, and stroke his knuckles smoothly.

Suddenly it gets silent

“You never stop making me happy, you know?” he closed his eyes, really blushing, indicating that he was really happy.

“Thank you for always supporting me, Bo-chan”, Bo-chan, his new nickname from his new girlfriend.

When a press conference happens, he stated, “She’s my new partner and I’m proud of her”

#bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #haikyuu!!#bokuto fanfic #bokuto icons #bokuto koutarou #bokuto kotaro #bokuto #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #haikyuu imagines #hq images #bokuto x fem!reader #chubby reader

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andithiel · 8 months

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Aaaah omg thank you for this ask my dear friend 🥹 I loved your list (found here). I did this 1,5 years ago (that list can be found here) and I didn’t want to repeat myself so I’m going to go with stuff that I’ve written since (as if that would make it easier) *cries in ambivalence*

Sweet Desire (Scorbus, just short of 6k, rated E, first person POV) I wrote this for last year's next gen fest. I was in a major writing slump and couldn't find any inspiration until I found the prompt "first time oral sex" and for some reason that inspired me. I had so much fun trying to convey that giddy teenage trying new things together in a trusting relationship, and I hope I pulled it off. Scorbus is pretty tricky for me to write but I really enjoyed spending time with these two lovebirds.

Sinking/Floating (Drarry, 963 words, rated T, second person POV) This was also something that made something click in me when I saw the lovely imovie of @bluebutter-art 's amazing fanart So rest your weary heart with me. I wanted to convey the same feeling I got when looking at Blue's art, and it took me a while to get there but I'm still very proud of how it came out.

Take that ride (Drarry, 1,6k, rated T) Inspired by Dance to this with Troye Sivan and Ariana Grande. I tried to capture the feeling of the song and include some of the elements in it, and tried to focus on the sensory despcriptions (which is something I tend to forget when writing), and I think it's one of the things I'm most proud of.

Let me show you (Drarry, 556 words, it's only on tumblr but I guess I'd rate it T) Sometimes inspiration just hits. You go about your daily chores and thinks about the fuck or die trope and then BAM! You need to write a 500 word drabble about mutual pining and Draco heroically chasing down Harry to offer his services.

microfic for the prompt "Truth or dare" for last year's flufftober I'm just super happy and proud that I managed to get this amount of story into 50 words, go me!

#fic author's self rec #drarry #scorbus #andithielwrites #it *was* a bit easier to chose this time since it was more limited #but i still miss some #like the secret language of flowers based on the 'fuck you' bouquet #or the 8th year fwb secret relationship dark mark disappearing fic i wrote for sassy #or harry being ridiculous on valentine's day and gifting draco a card with his face in harry's bum #oh well #this was fun anyway!

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kallie-den · 6 months

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Hunting Hound

Leinth Aritimis, a rebel pilot, is captured by the enemy. Her personal hero, Sartha Thrace, is there to be a lifeline - but she's a changed woman. Can Leinth set Sartha free? Or is Sartha so lost to Handler's brainwashing, she'll betray a woman who trusts her above everything else?

This is a sequel to Warhound! Please make sure to read that story first so that you can understand this one

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Nothing makes Leinth Aritimis feel good the way being saddled up in the cockpit of a huge mech suit does.

It’s not a rare refrain for a pilot. Most are enraptured by the sheer power it brings. You can feel it in your gut; the thrum of the engine, the shaking of the earth, the divine thunder of artillery. It’s never been that for Leinth, though. Truth be told, the noise and fury of her own Genetor still frightens her at times. But what really matters is what it lets her do.

Fight.

Leinth never set out to be a hero herself. She just wanted to be a little like her own heroes. To do her part. That was the least anyone could do, and the duty had grown heavy in her belly during the last years of her adolescence, until she was finally old enough to join up. The war isn’t going well. They’re always on the back foot. But that means Leinth always has something to defend, and knowing that makes her strong. The looks of hope and relief she sees on peoples’ faces when she dismounts after a long, hard-fought battle - that’s what feels good.

Now, after a couple of years, people were starting to call her a hero. Crazy.

She doesn’t deserve it, and she always tells them so. She’s no Sartha Thrace, and her Genetor is certainly no Ancyor. Ancyor is a proud old beast. Genetor is a slab. A fortress as much as a vehicle. Huge, angular, unwieldy - but not for Leinth. She’s learned well how to wield it. In her hands, the rebel prototype is a bulwark. She takes pride in that, and she’s proud of her machine in turn. Proud of the way it keeps moving even now, with an awful, jagged chunk taken out of its right leg.

Leinth reaches up overhead and punches a few switches, shunting power into the sensor suite for one more sweep. A few moments later, it clicks back its report. Nothing. No movement. That’s a relief. Maybe it’s actually over.

“Genetor reporting,” she says into her radio. “Sector is clear. I’m gonna stay out just a little longer. Make sure the bastards are gone for good.”

You got it, comes the warm reply, after a brief burst of static. But I think we got ‘em, Leinth. Don’t wear yourself out.

Right now there’s little choice but to take the sensors at their word. No use looking outside, that’s for damn sure. The day’s fighting has turned the cityscape into a blackened ruin where ash hangs in the air like fog, billowing on unnatural winds. What tall buildings remain are nothing more than burnt rebar skeletons ; in amongst them are the carcasses of mechs that haven’t quite managed to fall, looming over the shattered concrete like strange, harrowed statues. Most of them are so ravaged by the firestorm, Imperial and rebel models look exactly alike.

It’s demoralizing. But as long as there’s land and there’s people, they can rebuild. Leinth always insists upon that, to herself.

It’s been bad here. Intense. A fresh Imperial offensive. There’s no telling how much worse tomorrow might be. This could have been the final battle or merely an opening skirmish. Sometimes the resources and reserves at the enemy’s disposal seem all but unlimited. There’s a push-pull logic to the ever-moving front lines that Leinth can’t perceive. It’s not her job to, as a pilot. But like everyone else, she knows that they are not winning.

Maybe they can win here. Maybe Leinth can be the rock on which the tide breaks. She’s the one who never loses faith.

The falling dusk is a mercy, in a way. It hides the worst of the damage, and the most heartbreaking details. The contents of a wardrobe and a life ripped out of a building by an artillery shell and strewn all over the ashen ground. No good comes from looking. Those things - the human traces, the human remains - are too small for most mech pilots to notice. But in quiet moments, Leinth finds herself looking, magnifying them to fill the Genetor’s viewscreen. It’s a bad habit, and the darkness of night saves her from it. If she indulges, it’s too easy to let her thoughts turn to dark things.

Dark things like Sartha Thrace.

It’s been months since she disappeared. She went out like a hero. Her Ancyor was last seen plunging deep into the enemy’s lines to fight a furious rearguard. She’s listed as MIA not KIA, technically, but Leinth has done her best to make her peace with her hero’s passing. The rumors are making it damn hard, though. Rumors about seeing the Ancyor back in service on the wrong side of the war. Rumors about it moving the way only she could make it move.

Leinth hates hearing that shit. She’s said so often enough and angrily enough that no one says it to her face anymore. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t overhear when people are whispering about it. And it’s hard as hell to get it out of her head. Sartha Thrace means the world to her. Meant the world to her. That poster above her bunk in the barracks. An idol. Even Leinth’s transition goal, in the early days before she knew better. Now the kind thing to do is to let her memory rest until the time comes when they can honor it properly.

It’s not that she doesn’t wish Sartha Thrace was still alive. She wishes that more than anything. Especially in battles like these, it sure would be nice to have a hero to believe in.

Genetor! Headed your way! Leinth!

The urgency of her CO’s voice on the radio catches her attention just as much as her name. Leinth snaps back to attention and looks down at her scope - and then freezes. Her first response - her rational response - is that it’s a glitch. It has to be. It doesn’t make sense for a heat signature like that to be moving that fast. Then instinct takes flight. Leinth can feel it already. The vibrations. The heat in the air. She brings Genetor around to face the new threat, brings her weapons up, and kicks her searchlights up to max.

It’s too late. No time to brace herself. Ancyor is upon her.

Leinth would recognize its savage face anywhere, even here, and it makes her hesitate. If she wasn’t already screwed, that pause is what screws her. Once Leinth can make her hands move, it’s far too late to make use of Genetor’s shields. And Ancyor doesn’t stop to launch a blow. It simply barrels into her. With a raw howl of steel on steel, the mechs collide. Genetor might be a slab, but Ancyor is monstrously strong and it has momentum. There’s no contest. The impact sends Leinth off-balance. The ACS screams at her, but there’s nothing to be done.

Genetor topples over. The bastion falls.

And it will not be allowed to stand. Ancyor is still on her, driving its massive chainblades into the prone mech’s limbs. Leinth cries out in panic. She feels the severance in her own flesh. The rattling, the noise, the flashing lights as Genetor’s systems struggle to shunt power to the cockpit - it’s a nightmare. She already knows she’s lost. There’s no coming back from this.

But it gets worse. Ancyor rears up, and amongst the ashen city, lit only by Genetor’s flickering searchlights, it looks truly awful in its lupine fury. Then it brings its fist down, right on the cockpit. The sound of the blow is an awful crunch; a noise no metal should ever make. Leinth screams as the wall of her cockpit starts to bow in against her. Genetor holds, but only just. Another blow has it convulse, and Leinth’s scream is silenced when her head is thrown back against the back of the cockpit. No ACS to compensate now.

She starts seeing in black and white. Not good. Concussion, at least. It happened so fast. Leinth is still struggling to believe in what she’s seeing and feeling. It doesn’t make sense.

There’s only one woman who can pilot Ancyor like this. But it’s not her. It’s not her.

There’s no third blow. Or if there is, Leinth is too far gone to feel it. She hears something, though. Other vehicles approaching. Not mechs. Smaller. They get close, then stop, then Leinth hears scrambling. Shouting. Climbing. The realization of what’s happening makes her breath catch with fear, but she’s beyond even adrenaline now. Darkness is here for her.

The last thing she feels before oblivion is the Imperial engineers starting to drill their way into Genetor’s cockpit.

***

There is no time, in the room. No daylight, no clock. Leinth has been counting sleeps and by that tally it’s been fifteen days, but that’s surely off by a day or more. Especially given how hard she got knocked around.

Leinth remembers being pulled from Genetor’s cockpit. She remembers being bound and guarded and dragged into an infirmary, to receive only the most basic medical care. Leinth had been in and out for most of that, twitching and shouting whenever she was close to consciousness, but then they gave her something that brought her all the way back up to uncomfortably sharp awareness. Then, an interrogation. Noise, bright lights, sternness, threats - the usual. Crude. Blunt. Like all pilots, Leinth has prepared herself for this long ago. They got nothing from her.

She’d been bracing herself for torture to follow - but no. At least, not that kind of torture. Something had interrupted the proceedings. There had been a whisper in an ear, and then a strange ripple had gone through her interrogators. With fresh urgency, they’d dragged her to her feet and she’d been taken somewhere else. Somewhere down, under the hangar, far beneath the rest of the Imperial base.

It’s strange here. The walls are dark, and it’s much too quiet. None of the hustle and bustle that’s everywhere in any normal military facility. Since then, nothing. Leinth has been left to sit and rot in her uncertainty and her boredom. The solitude is maddening. There is nothing to disturb it except occasional meals given at irregular intervals through a slot in the door.

From how it leaves her feeling, Leinth is pretty sure the food is drugged. She eats most of it anyway. Tricking her into starving herself could be another way of softening her up.

The sound of locking bolts retracting into the wall heralds change. At once, Leinth is completely focused. Any information about her situation, any stimulation at all, is a sweetness she’s desperate for. When the heavy cell door swings open, she catches sight of the person holding the key. Immediately she regrets her eagerness. This is almost more disconcerting than seeing nothing at all.

The menial standing before her had once been an Imperial pilot, judging from the uniform and the wings on her lapel. Once, but no longer. There’s something unmistakably broken about her. Her uniform is wearing thin from neglect and she moves with a strange, stooped, shambling gait that just doesn’t look right on a person. She’s like an animal that’s been beaten one too many times. Leinth wishes she could see her face, if only to verify her humanity, but she can’t. The menial is wearing an awful hood that hides her face - leather, perhaps, and fashioned to look like a dog’s head.

It’s some sick shit, even for Imperials, and Leinth doesn’t have a clue what it means.

All is forgotten, though, when the menial steps aside and reveals Leinth’s visitor.

Sartha Thrace.

Her presence is electricity on Leinth’s skin, and for that reason she knows she’s real even before she pinches herself and blinks - three times, four times, five times. It’s impossible, but she’d know that face anywhere, even here, even in the dim glow of the cell’s lights. It’s the real deal. Leinth believes it with her whole heart, especially when Sartha Thrace flashes her a classic smile and reaches up to rake back her messy blonde hair. Somehow, in the flesh, she’s even more beautiful than she is on the posters.

“Leinth Aritimis?” Sartha says. “Looks like you got scooped up pretty rough, huh?”

“I… I… you…” Leinth’s mouth is struggling to catch up with her brain. There are too many questions, and the first to fall from her lips is embarrassingly juvenile. “You… know who I am?”

“Sure.” Sartha walks into the cell - ushered in, it seems - and the door closes behind her. “We fought together, right? The Dacian salient?”

Leinth nods numbly. She remembered. She actually remembered. They’d only met in passing, as two pilots amongst many, and Leinth had been nobody then. She’d assumed Sartha Thrace had taken no notice of her. She feels - and notes with humor - a faint flicker of gratitude for her captivity.

Then she blinks. She remembers her place.

“I should…” Leinth stands and salutes as best she can. “Captain!”

“Woah, easy.” Sartha laughs and waves her off. “I’ve never been a stickler, Leinth, and it doesn’t seem to make much sense here. Just call me ‘Sartha’.”

Leinth nods. She can barely believe her luck. It’s like a dream come true - circumstances notwithstanding.

“So they… they got you?” Leinth asks slowly, as Sartha walks over and sits next to her on the long bench that’s one of the cell’s only features. “We all thought you were dead.”

“Yeah.” Sartha smiles faintly. “I guess they did.”

“I saw Ancyor out there,” Leinth says. “It’s what took me down. I guess they… gods.”

Sartha doesn’t reply. She just looks down. In the dim light, Leinth can see there’s a strange look in her eye. Distant. Glassy. She’s not herself, in that moment.

Leinth can’t blame her for it. She doesn’t want to think about how she’d feel if she knew someone else had taken Genetor from her. Was using it against her people. The violation would be monstrous. She silently prays her mech was too damaged for that.

“So,” she says, hoping to bring Sartha back. “What happens now? To us. To… me.”

“Wish I could tell you.” Sartha looks up. She sounds OK again. “I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.”

“Did…” Leinth is afraid to ask, but she needs to know. “Have they done something to you? Anything I should prepare myself for?”

Sartha looks down again. “I don’t… know.”

Leinth has no words for that. She shivers. She clamps down hard on her own, faint disappointment. She tries to remind herself that Sartha Thrace is more than a hero on a poster above Leinth’s bunk. She’s been through hell. Anyone would be in pieces after months down here.

“But,” Sartha adds after a long moment, “you’ll be OK. I remember how I felt when they first put me down here. You’re strong. This is not the end. I’m still here, aren’t I? And now there’s two of us. It’ll be easier.”

Now Leinth feels ashamed of even that initial flicker of disappointment. She can hear the grit in Sartha Thrace’s voice. She can feel the warmth, and she is warmed by it. Thanks to her - thanks only to her - this chthonic hell feels bearable. She’s gonna get through this. They’re going to get through this. She can believe that, with a hero at her side. Leinth is so very grateful for Sartha’s presence.

But that begs a question.

“Thank you,” Leinth says, but frowns. “Why do you think they put us together like this?”

“Dunno,” Sartha replies. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

She? Who? The menial? Maybe, but there’s something about how Sartha said it. It’s probably not important.

“Could be they want to get us talking?” Leinth glances around. “This place could be wired for sound. Maybe they’re hoping we’ll let something slip.”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s keep it light, eh?” Leinth says. “Just in case. No secrets.”

“You got it,” Sartha agrees. “I have something important to ask you though.”

“OK.” Leinth glances around again. She decides to trust Sartha’s judgment, but just in case, she leans in so they can whisper to one another. “What?”

“Have you met Her yet?”

“No,” Leinth answers, before thinking. The question puts a nasty feeling in her gut. “Who?”

“Her.”

That one little word contains within it an ocean of feeling. Sartha quivers with excitement as she speaks it. She can barely contain herself. It’s a prayer, swelling with reverence, bursting with unnatural devotion. Leinth can sense already that Sartha is consumed by this ‘Her’. Nothing she said to Leinth before matters. Whatever - whoever - she’s talking about is utterly totalizing.

“Sartha,” Leinth says hesitantly. “What are you talking about?”

Sartha Thrace smiles, and now her smile is all wrong. It’s too serene. “Ah. You haven’t. You’d know if you had. Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be long.”

“Sartha…” Leinth’s stomach is plummeting. She’s panicking again. This isn’t right. “What the fuck?”

“She’ll explain everything,” Sartha assures her, and it’s like she thinks Leinth will be grateful for the assurance. “Once She talks to you, everything will make sense. You’ll make sense.”

“Stop talking like this!” Leinth pleads. “Just… just tell me what’s going on.”

Sartha pauses and restrains herself. Leinth can still see the light of energy and enthusiasm brimming within her, though. She’s just holding back because she can see Leinth isn’t ready yet.

“Handler,” she explains. Her tone is worshipful. “Oh, Leinth. You have no idea how wonderful she is!”

“Your…” Leinth feels like she’s going to throw up. “Sartha. Out there. The Ancyor. That… please. Please don’t tell me that was you.”

“It was.” Sartha tilts her head. Her eyes grow distant. “Well. In a way.”

Leinth doesn’t know what the fuck that means, but she’s heard more than enough. She springs to her feet. Leaps away. Anger is clawing at the inside of her skin.

“Traitor!” she snarls. “How… how could you? How did they… no, no, it doesn’t fucking matter. You betrayed us all!”

Sartha looks saddened, a little. Not enough to doubt herself. “She said you’d say that. But it’s OK. She said that I don’t need to listen. I think she just wants me to help you.”

“Help me? What the…”

Leinth doesn’t want to hear that. It’s awful - that whoever this ‘She’ is, all she has to do is say one word, and Sartha shuts off? That’s inhuman.

“Help you,” Sartha repeats. “It’s… an adjustment. Being with Her. I struggled with it too, at first. At least, I think so. She says I don’t have to remember anymore. But once you accept it - once you accept Her - everything gets better. You’ll see.”

Obviously they’ve done something to her. Brainwashing. Obviously she’s a victim too. Leinth knows that - but knowing isn’t enough. She would have kissed the ground Sartha Thrace walked on. She would have given everything for her. Now she’s with them. Leinth starts to shed tears as her voice becomes a bitter, frigid growl.

“Traitor,” she spits, hoping she can inject enough venom into her voice to make it sting. “You’re a fucking traitor.”

It works. Sartha looks offended. Wounded. She looks away, like she’s trying to go distant again, but she can’t quite manage it. Even now, even after whatever the fuck they did to her, she has just a little bit too much fight for that. She needs to retort.

“You shouldn’t call me that,” Sartha says defensively. “I’m not a… I’m a hero, right? You know that. The way you looked at me, it’s… I’m just here because…”

Because? Leinth can see gears spinning in her head, but she’s going nowhere. She doesn’t know why she’s here, or what she’s doing. Not really. She looks so lost.

“I-I have to do what She says.” Sartha sounds almost pleading now. “It’s not like I’m… we’re soldiers, aren’t we? We follow orders. And Her orders are special.” It’s like she’s tricking herself. Searching for justification. She’s found one now, however thin and false. Her distress abates. “If you just met Her, you’d understand…”

Her confusion is so obvious it hurts to witness. It’s embarrassing. Sartha Thrace is meant to be a hero. She’s meant to be better than this. Contradicting feelings tear into Leinth’s mind. She wants to forgive the confused woman in front of her. Their captors must have done something truly awful to her. But that also makes her presence hard to bear. Is it a warning of what fate they have in store for Leinth? Leinth doesn’t want to think about that. Not for one second.

Sartha Thrace is meant to be better. She’s meant to be the hero on the poster. Not this. Leinth doesn’t want to see her like this.

“Just leave me alone,” Leinth says quietly. When she catches Sartha looking sadly at her, she balls her hands into fists. It pisses her off. “Get the fuck out already! Go. It’s not like you’re a prisoner here, right? I don’t want to fucking look at you.”

She laughs bitterly at that. Sartha looks sorry for both Leinth and herself. She stands.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Sartha says stiffly. “I’ll be back, though. I promise. I don’t want to leave you all on your own down here. And I really think She wants me to help you. To look after you. She’s so kind, you see.”

Leinth just stares at the wall, so Sartha walks over to the door of the cell. She bangs on it twice with her fist and the door opens. Leinth stays dead still until she leaves and the door closes again behind her. Then she buries her head in her hands and starts to sob.

Fuck.

***

After that, it all changes. The solitude and boredom, as interminable as it was, is something Leinth comes to miss. Because after Sartha’s first visit, they start torturing her.

That’s how Leinth chooses to think of it, anyway - torture. She’s not sure what else she’d call it. It’s not a kind of torture she’d ever prepared herself for, though. It’s not an interrogation. There are no questions. It’s not pain for pain’s sake, either. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt at all. They drug her with drugs that make her feel like nothing else. They hook her up to strange machines that seem to do nothing and everything. They shine bright, flickering lights into her eyes, and it’s like they’re projecting something, like an old movie on film, and only part of her mind is able to see it.

Other times, it hurts worse than Leinth could ever describe.

Either way, by the time Leinth is dragged back to the cell she feels like her skin’s been ripped inside out. She feels like one of those mech carcasses, still standing even though they’ve been burned to ash on the inside. All she can do is collapse and lie shivering on the floor of her cell, trying to piece herself back together. Sometimes, all the sensations they inflict on her seem to linger on in her body, burrowing deeper, until she can remind herself they’re not real. Sometimes, the drugs leave her with an impossible euphoria that makes Leinth feel like she can’t trust any of her own thoughts.

At those times, when Leinth is at her very lowest, Sartha Thrace comes to visit.

The first few times, at least, Leinth finds the strength to tell her to fuck off. To her credit, she does. But Sartha keeps coming and eventually, in a moment of weakness, she relents. It was meant to be just that once, but after that Sartha always ends up staying. Leinth is not made of stone. Without Sartha, she’d never see a single soul except for the hooded menials that drag her from her cell each day, and they barely seem to count as human.

She takes infinite comfort simply in sharing her cell, for a time, with another, familiar person. Just seeing Sartha’s face, seeing her little human gestures like the way she adjusts her clothes and rakes back her hair, makes Leinth feel less crazy. Less alone and forgotten, like she’s died and gone to her own private hell.

Sartha’s good company, too. Even though she’s a traitor. She only wants to talk if Leinth does. She’s never pushy. She’ll put up with Leinth’s insults and anger. And sometimes, it even feels like Leinth is getting through to her.

She’s so beautiful, too. That helps.

After a time, it becomes a rhythm. Torture, then Sartha. The rhythm makes it easier to bear. No matter what they do to her, no matter how it feels, after a while Sartha will be there. They can talk if Leinth needs to hear her voice, or not if Leinth needs quiet. Eventually, her anger abates. There’s no point being angry at Sartha Thrace. They’re both in hell. Maybe Sartha’s just in a little deeper.

The rhythm does trouble her, though. She’s not blind to all the ways it could be used against her. Everything that’s happening to her in this place seems as regular as clockwork, but sometimes Leinth senses something behind that. A presence. A person. The rhythm’s conductor, perhaps. It might even be that mysterious ‘she’ Sartha sometimes refers to.

Or it might not. Maybe Leinth is just losing her mind.

Talking helps with that. It feels like it helps, anyway. Not that there’s much to talk about. Mostly, Leinth talks about herself. Sometimes they talk about the war, although it’s difficult to draw Sartha out on that topic. It’s like she doesn’t want to think about what’s happening, or what side she’s really on. It’s like she prefers to be confused. Leinth learns that if she presses too hard Sartha might shut down on her, or worse, leave, and so Leinth learns not to. She finds the line where she can draw out Sartha’s sense of contradiction without scaring her off.

And sometimes there are glimpses of the old Sartha. Of someone bright and brilliant, full of charisma and heroism. Leinth comes to live for those glimpses. Even now, Sartha is a kind of hero to her.

“’In a way’,” Leinth says slowly, one day, thinking back to their very first conversation. “What did that mean?”

“Huh?” Sartha, sitting just along from her in the cell, turns her head.

“When I asked you about piloting Ancyor,” Leinth presses. “You said it was you - ‘in a way’. Tell me what that means.”

Sartha looks away. “I was… nothing. It was me.”

“Bullshit.” Leinth has learned what it looks like when Sartha doesn’t want to think about something. “Tell me. Stop hiding something.”

Now Sartha sighs. “I’m not… hiding. You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

It’s possible she’s pushing too hard, but the question has been burning inside Leinth. After a short time, Sartha sighs.

“It’s like… it’s like there’s someone else in my head,” she says slowly. Then, realizing how that sounds: “I mean, it’s still me. Obviously. But sometimes I can… let them take over. When She wants me to.”

Leinth doesn’t need to say anything. Her expression does all the talking. Sartha gets defensive.

“I-It’s not how it sounds,” Sartha insists. “I’m just not explaining it well. It’s like… it’s like how, sometimes, in the heat of battle, you just go on autopilot. You know that feeling, right?”

Leinth nods.

“It’s just… one step further than that.” She’s grasping and she knows it. Leinth can tell. “It’s better this way. A clearer separation.” Sartha taps her foot restlessly. “I wish She was here. If She explained it to you, you’d understand perfectly.”

“Why do you need to be separated?” Leinth argues back. “I don’t. I want to be me. When I’m piloting. When I’m fighting. I want to know what I’m fighting for. Don’t you?”

“I…” Sartha taps her foot faster. Agitated. “N-no. No, it gets distracting. Better to keep it separate. Better to focus. Better to ignore everything, except orders. Her orders. She says I don’t need to think, and the other me makes it easier. It’s better this way!”

By the end, she’s almost shouting. It’s the first time Sartha’s seen her get so worked up. She wants to push further, but she can sense this is the limit - for now, at least. Maybe Sartha’s mistress doesn’t realize how fragile she is. Maybe Leinth is starting to figure out where the cracks are.

But she’ll be smart about it. Rhythms go both ways. Now she can be the one to provide comfort. She slides along the bench and rests her arm across Sartha’s shoulder. She squeezes her. Sartha relaxes. She welcomes the touch.

“You know,” Leinth says slowly, after a minute or more has passed, “that it wasn’t always like this, right?”

“Yeah.” Sartha’s voice is empty.

“And…” Leinth takes a deep breath. “And you know it’s not like this for most people, don’t you? You know it’s not right.”

Sartha plants her head in her hands. She might be crying. Then slowly, finally, she nods.

***

Time passes. It goes on. It gets worse. Whatever they’re doing to Leinth, it’s getting more intense. Not more painful - no, that would be preferable. Increasingly, instead of agonizing memories that reverberate yet more pain, Leinth is left with no memories at all. She’s left without clarity. Often for hours, even after she’s returned to her cell. Blackouts. Lost time. It’s like her mind, her life, is being packed into smaller and smaller boxes. Each day, less space remains. Less of her is able to survive. The rest is all an endless, wandering fog. Each memory and each clear thought becomes a hard-fought battle.

It’s a war. And Leinth is losing this war too.

The pilot has no defenses against this. She knows how to be strong, but strength isn’t enough. Leinth’s emotions are starting to fray. She screams. She wails. She sobs. She bangs her fists on the cell walls until her skin breaks.

Leinth can’t even count the hours or the days. She can’t tell if she’s putting up a good fight. What haunts her more than anything is that all of this could have been no more than a couple of weeks. What if she’s falling apart like this in just two weeks.

It brings her to despair. Only Sartha Thrace can comfort her.

Leinth is lying across her lap, resting her head in the softness and warmth of her former hero. It’s the only soft thing she ever gets to touch. When the inside of her own head feels like a hive of bees or a yawning abyss, she can lose herself in the slightly scratchy texture of Sartha’s clothes. She can become something that only exists in the present tense, without her past to grasp at and her future to dread.

She can’t remember when she lost enough of her pride to accept this embrace, from a woman she’s called a traitor. But Leinth is glad she did. Without this, she couldn’t make it. Her very worst fear is that one day, Sartha will simply stop appearing at the door of her cell. She just has to pray they won’t start using that against her.

Sometimes they talk. Not often, though. What’s there to talk about? Nothing changes down here. Leinth tries to keep working Sartha, though. Putting her fingers in those cracks. Pulling them apart. She thinks it's working - not that she trusts herself to judge. But Sartha talks less about ‘Her’. She seems more uncomfortable, whenever Leinth questions. That’s something, right? That’s hope?

None of that today, though. Leinth isn’t together enough for it. All she can do is rest her head in Sartha’s lap and sob.

She tries to sob silently and cover the shaking motions she makes when her breath catches awkwardly in her throat. Maybe she doesn’t want to cry so nakedly in front of an enemy. Maybe she doesn’t want to cry so nakedly in front of her hero. Either way, she keeps her face turned away and hopes Sartha can’t quite see her in the dark.

Then it strikes her: of course she can. It’s dim in here, but not pitch black. And Sartha’s head is right above her. Of course she can see.

Leinth pulls her arms and legs in tighter. She tucks in her head. “Sorry,” she says quietly.

Mercifully, Sartha doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even make some condescending, cooing little noise. She just, very gently, reaches down and starts to stroke Leinth’s hair.

Leinth closes her eyes. At first in shame, but slowly she relaxes. Sartha’s touch is startlingly pleasant. It feels like an angel’s touch. Suddenly, Leinth is struck with a kind of vision.

She imagines that it’s the Sartha Thrace from the poster, sitting above her, stroking her hair. Sartha Thrace as she once was. Always victorious. Always right. Resplendent in her heroism. Her stirring beauty shining like the sun. Smiling a cocksure smile that lets everyone with her know that it’s going to be OK.

The fantasy is a little childish, she guesses. But she needs it right now. Leinth gives herself over to the pleasant daydream. It makes her feel like it’s going to be OK.

Eventually, after a long while, she manages to make herself still. She stops crying. She’s shed enough tears for the day. But there’s no escaping the knowledge that tomorrow will be the same. Fresh torments. And once they’re over, even less of her will remain.

“Sartha,” Leinth says. Her voice is shaky and hoarse. “I’m not going to make it in here. I’m going to end up like you. Or worse.”

There’s a long pause. Then: “I know.”

Leinth summons up her courage. “Will you help me escape?”

A longer pause. Then:

“Yeah.”

***

They make a plan, that night. It’s a simple one. No time for refinements. Leinth is desperate to get out and, frankly, she can’t trust Sartha to keep her word.

From what she’s said, simple should be good enough. This part of the base - the ‘kennels’, Sartha calls them - is large, but has only a small contingent of those dog-hooded menials. Sartha can send them away once the cell door is unlocked, and then she can lead Leinth to freedom. They shouldn’t encounter anyone else on their way to the hangar. All Leinth has to do is steal an Imperial mech and run like hell.

It sounds a little too good to be true. But what choice does Leinth have but to put her faith in Sartha, and hope she has enough of her own strength left to overcome any unexpected challenges?

The real sticking point is Sartha herself. She says all this like she’s not coming. Leinth senses that she shouldn’t ask. Now more than ever, she can’t afford to push Sartha to breaking point. She can see, plain as day, all the fear and doubt inside the captured hero. For all her reputation, she’s like an abused puppy now. She isn’t just thinking running away will earn her another kick. She’s thinking that running away will mean she’s nothing at all.

Leinth wants to prove her wrong. She’s nursing a hope that, at the very last moment, when they’re standing at the threshold, Sartha will choose to take her hand. They have a connection, as pilots and fellow prisoners. Whatever Sartha’s done, she can still be redeemed. She can be whole again. A hero once more.

And Leinth can be the one to take her back into the light. It feels like fate, in a way. Maybe that’s why her chest is filling with tentative confidence.

The moment comes. Leinth hears the lock on her cell door disengage. There’s a pause - longer than usual - before it opens. Sartha is standing in the doorway. No one’s behind her. Sartha steps back, beckoning Leinth. Leinth’s heart starts to race. It’s happening. It’s real.

“This way,” Sartha says.

They start moving quickly, not quite running for fear that their feet pounding the concrete will alert something or someone. It’s just as dark out of Leinth’s cell as it is inside it, and to her the dark corridors and passageways Sartha is leading her through are utterly indistinguishable. She’s tried mapping the place based on what she sees when the menials drag her out each day, but no luck. There’s too little light, and their work leaves her far, far too disoriented.

Sartha appears to know them intimately, though. She leads and Leinth follows, and eventually she senses that they are sloping upward. It takes longer than she’d hoped, though. How big is this part of the base? Is this sprawling complex just for prisoners like her and Sartha? There’s no sense to it than she can discern.

She can puzzle that out later, though. Now she just needs to escape.

They round a corner and Leinth almost runs headfirst into Sartha’s back. She’s stopped. Leinth can immediately see why. For the first time, they can see light - not the light of day, but the bright, harsh light of the mech hangar, and that’s close enough. It’s still distant and faint but it’s closer than had Leinth dared hope for.

But that’s not why Sartha froze. There’s something else. Someone standing between them and freedom. Not one of the menials. Leinth immediately knows who this is.

It’s Her.

Sartha’s handler. The woman she seems utterly in awe of. There’s no one else it could be. She’s wearing a strange kind of uniform - black leathers and a dark cap, with a long coat that lends her a formidable silhouette. Hair is platinum, almost white, as cold as her eyes. She wears a thin smile as she stares down the escapees.

This is bad. Leinth knows that right away. But she’s already running the numbers. This woman’s no bigger than she is. Even if Sartha freezes up, which seems likely, it’s a fair fight. Leinth can win those.

Sartha Thrace does something much worse than freezing up.

“Well done, Sartha,” the handler says. She gestures down. “Now. Heel.”

Leinth is frozen in horror as Sartha rushes across to the handler’s side and kneels.

Her obedience isn’t the worst part, much as Leinth wishes it was. The worst part is how bursting with energy Sartha is. With certainty. There’s no hint of doubt or shame or guilt in her demeanor. She’s rushing forward. Practically wagging her tail. So eager it’s embarrassing.

If she was going to betray Leinth again, the least she could have done was hesitate.

“Good girl,” the handler says as Sartha throws herself at her feet. She reaches down and blesses her head with a couple of fond pats. Leinth is grateful she can’t see the look on Sartha’s face. She’s sure it would break her heart. “Hello, Leinth Aritimis.”

Leinth grits her teeth. This is as bad as it gets. She needs to get her head into gear. This is combat. She should run. But she needs to ask the question.

“What did you do to her?”

Handler takes her time. She tilts her head. Considering, perhaps, how to answer. "I gave her a gift,” she says. “The kind of gift that wins anybody over. I made her perfectly happy.”

Anger swelled in Leinth’s bosom. “You’re sick.”

The slight smile on the handler’s face is maddening. “Do you think so? I believe I’d like to give you the same gift, Leinth.”

That makes her skin crawl. “She’s not happy, you piece of shit.”

“Doesn’t she look happy to you?” the handler replies. She extends her palm, and Sartha stretches her neck to rest her chin on her hand. There’s nothing more Leinth wants than to rush over and break the handler’s jaw. But who knows how Sartha would react to that?

“I’ve seen what she’s like,” Leinth growls. “It’s no gift. She’s suffering. She’s in anguish. I’ve seen it. Half the time, she’s falling apart!”

“Indeed,” the handler muses. “She struggles without me, doesn’t she? But she put up with it so bravely. I’m so proud of her.”

The emotion dripping from her lips is a sickening mixture of mocking condescension and genuine affection. Leinth has never heard anything like it.

“Sir,” Sartha pipes up. She has eyes only for her handler and she seems nervous about speaking, but excitement at the praise has overcome her. “May I have it back?”

The handler smiles down benevolently at her. She’s so proud. “Of course you can, Sartha.”

She reaches into one of her coat pockets and retrieves something - a small, elongated, metal cage with a pair of leather straps mounted to it.

A muzzle.

Sartha presents herself and keeps dead still as her handler bends down and affixes it to her face, taking care to brush her hair out of the way and make sure the straps are exactly as tight as they need to be. It’s as loving as a kiss. As twisted as a curse.

“Up,” the handler says once she’s done.

Sartha rises to her feet. She turns to look at Leinth but barely seems to register her presence. The muzzle jutting out of her face is grotesque. Leinth can’t help but notice how serene she is now. Sartha’s face is clear of doubt, wracked by none of the confusion that had plagued her whenever they’d spoken in Leinth’s cell.

Was it an act? Or does the handler’s presence simply have this much sway over her?

Which is worse?

Leinth swears to herself and spits on the ground. Fuck this. Fuck whatever this is. She’s not going to fall to pieces over this. She’s not going to stand here and stare and let this woman play games with her head. She’s getting out of here.

“See you in hell, freak,” she snarls, and breaks into a sprint.

All she needs to do is put the handler down and run. Leinth can figure the rest out on her own. Sartha isn’t going to help her. Not now.

She makes it a few paces before the handler reacts. She doesn’t panic, though, or raise her arms to defend herself. She just says something to Sartha in a firm, clear voice.

“Off The Leash.”

The next thing Leinth knows, she’s on the ground. It’s just like when she got laid out by Ancyor. Something is on top of her. Something panting and violent and angry. It’s Sartha.

Except it isn’t.

Nobody could go from zero to sixty that fast. Nobody. No person. But Sartha doesn’t really count as one of those anymore. She’s staring down at Leinth with a look of impossible, bestial hate, eyes as furious as they are shallow. Her hackles are raised and her back is arched, and her lips are drawn back to expose snarling teeth. There’s a sound coming from the back of her throat; a low, rumbling growl, like the rolling of thunder. It’s a sound that has no business coming from a human.

This is her. The other self Sartha was talking about before. Leinth knows it. Not a person. Just a honed instrument of her handler’s violent will.

A hound.

"Easy, Hound,” the handler says. “I don’t want her harmed.”

Hound eases off - but only just. The hate burning in her eyes as she looks at Leinth is so singular. It’s utterly totalizing. Leinth tried to desecrate her goddess. That’s all there is to it. The depth of her devotion is so unnatural it makes Leinth’s skin crawl.

The handler moves to stand over her, looking down at her. “You will not escape from here,” she pronounces. “You will never leave this place again. Not unless I permit it. Understand?”

Her manner demands an answer. Leinth doesn’t have one, not even a foul spit of defiance. She’s just trying not to fall to pieces. She’s cursing herself for her optimism. For not seeing the signs. She’s trying not to tear up too, because that would just be too pathetic. She doesn’t want to give this woman the satisfaction. But for that strength, she needs hope. And there’s precious little to hope for, now.

Only Sartha.

There has to be something left of her, right? You can’t just take a human being and take them apart and put them back together like this. Right? Right? You can’t just make a person this small.

There’s something left. Leinth just needs to get through to her.

“Please,” she mouths silently at the hound. She tries to meet her gaze, hard as it is. So much hate, in eyes that had become so familiar. Her muzzle disfigures her. It’s hard to look past that and see the face of a hero. But Leinth is determined to try.

“You have such faith in her.” The handler’s lips curl. “Don’t you see? She’s mine now.”

“No!” Leinth cries, although her voice is weak. “She… she wants to leave with me. She knows this is wrong. She knows you’re her enemy. I saw it.”

The handler arches an eyebrow. “Hound. Up.”

Hound rises to her feet instantly, offering Leinth one last warning growl. Leinth knows better than to try to stand.

“Take off your jacket,” the handler instructs.

Again, Hound obeys without thought. She discards the military jacket she was once so proud of like it’s nothing. Underneath she’s wearing a simple, khaki tank top. The handler lifts the hem to Hound’s chest and uses her other hand to fondly touch the pilot’s abs, feeling at their definition. She’s enjoying them - her smirk makes no secret of that - but this is all for Leinth’s benefit. She’s trying to piss Leinth off. Showing her that only she gets to touch Sartha Thrace this way.

It’s working.

Then the handler makes her hand into a fist and punches Hound in the gut.

She may not be a pilot, but she’s a military woman and her form is good. And more to the point, Hound makes no attempt to defend herself. The blow leaves her bent double, retching and heaving, before her legs give way and she sinks to her knees. She looks like she’s in agony.

Leinth is sure that Sartha Thrace - Hound - whatever - is quick enough to have sensed the blow coming. But she didn’t brace herself. Didn’t even tense her muscles or expel the air from her lungs.

What the fuck kind of control is that? Control on an instinctive level. In her nerves, her muscles, her reflexes.

And that’s not the end. After watching Hound contort and groan for a few moments, the handler lowers the offending fist to Hound’s lips and pushes her muzzle aside.

Hound kisses it.

The kiss is almost innocent. It’s like a knight kissing her liege’s ring. Knowing it's the hand that just left a mean bruise on Hound’s stomach makes it twisted. It gets worse when the handler extends her fingers and uses them to pry Hound’s lips apart, running her fingertips over her teeth, pinching her tongue, smearing drool across her face.

Depraved. There’s no other word for it.

“Do you still think she wants to leave?” the handler asks as she pulls back and fixes Hound’s muzzle.

“Yes, damn it!” Leinth’s wishes her voice sounded firmer. “You’ve done something to her. That… thing is not Sartha Thrace. It’s just something you put in her head. It’s not her.”

“Would it help to hear it from her own lips?” the handler asks. “I’m trying to help you see the truth of her, Leinth. She doesn’t deserve your faith.” She turns to Hound. “On The Leash.”

Light returns to her eyes - a semblance of it, at least, but smothered by the handler’s presence. It’s Sartha again. The muzzle, though, still ruins her face.

“Sartha,” the handler says. Sartha’s ears prick up, grateful merely for the attention. “Do you want to leave me?”

“No!”

The word bursts from her lips, an explosion, before she can catch herself and add the appropriate ‘sir’. Sartha is suddenly desperate. Panicked, far more so than she’d ever been with Leinth in her cell. Her eyes register a wounded confusion.

Is she being abandoned? What did she do wrong?

“No, sir!” Sartha repeats. Her eyes flick and flit manically. She’s on the brink of collapse. “P-please…”

“Don’t worry.” The handler pets her head again. “You don’t have to leave, Sartha.”

All at once, the hero relaxes. Shoulders sink, muscles release all their tension. Her face slumps into a glowing smile. This is all she needs. God is in her heaven; all is right with the world.

And Leinth’s faint hopes grow fainter still.

“That’s… not…” She feels the need to set this to right, somehow. To explain it away. To make an excuse. “You’re in her head! You have been for months, you sick freak. Whatever fucking game you’re playing with her doesn’t change the fact that she’s still Sartha Thrace!”

“Hmm.” The handler looks impressed, or something like it. “You believe in her so very much. More than I’d expected.”

Leinth would be proud. She takes faith as a mark of strength. For rebels like her, faith in one other is indispensable. She would be proud, if not for how pleased the handler seemed.

“Where does that come from, I wonder?” the handler muses. “Loyalty and admiration so fervent it persists in defiance of reality itself. You can understand, I’m sure, why I might take a professional interest.”

Leinth spits. She’s sure this woman knows absolutely nothing about loyalty. Less than nothing.

“The way you look at her is fascinating,” the handler goes on. She’s bending down a little, peering at the pilot. “Respect. Faith. But other things, too. Envy? That’s normal, between pilots. Who wouldn’t envy my hound?”

At that, Leinth just snorts. It’s nothing she hasn’t thought about before. ‘Do I want to be her friend, or do I just want to be her?’ She’s at peace with it.

“And,” the handler adds. “Lust. You want her.”

“W-what?” Leinth feels something pull tight in her chest, even as she laughs and scoffs. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You do,” the handler decides. She says it so academically. Like she’s putting together a puzzle. Like she’s dissecting a frog. “Why deny it? We know your inclinations. She’s attractive, isn’t she?”

“I didn’t mean…” Leinth glances at Sartha. She has eyes only for her handler, even now, but surely she can hear both of them. “Of course, but-“

“The way you look at her is obvious,” the handler interrupts. She glances at Sartha. “It’s obvious to her, too.”

Leinth’s eyes flash wide. That’s… no. No. She’s lying. The handler is messing with her, that much is obvious. And Leinth was always so careful. She never let those feelings reach her face.

Except…

She can’t be quite so confident, can she? Trying to sort through her own memories of her captivity is like trying to grasp at water. At times, she was all but delirious from the pain and the drugs. Did she let something slip? Did something filthy reveal itself in her gaze?

Leinth looks to Sartha, hoping for confirmation. She’s unreadable. She’s in a blissful daze, shining with gladness at the reunion with her handler and her muzzle.

“Tell me, Leinth,” the handler says. “That poster, above your bunk. Did you ever look at it while you touched yourself?”

Leinth recoils like she’s been struck. Cold washes over her, turning all the hairs along her spine into little icicles. “How do you know about that?”

“Our methods are very effective for extracting information,” the handler tells her. “Did you think that my staff were merely amusing themselves?”

Panic. More panic. Leinth scrambles away across the concrete floor. Suddenly the handler’s eyes on her skin are unbearable. What else might she know? Leinth tries to reach back into memory and find pieces of herself. She finds a black hole. She can’t remember spilling any secrets - but clearly she has.

Who has she betrayed? Please let it only be herself. Please let it not be anyone else.

“I think I can take that as confirmation,” the handler says. “Not that I needed any. You want her.” Her smile widens. “You could have her, you know.”

Leinth goes very still. “What?”

“Is that what would make you happy, I wonder?” The handler reaches out to Sartha again; a light touch across her torso, where a bruise is already beginning to rise. “All I’d need to do is say the word.”

“No! Fuck - no.” Leinth’s stomach churns at the suggestion. “I would never… fuck, she would never.”

“Not at all.” The handler’s confidence is supreme. “If I ordered you to, you’d give yourself to Leinth. Wouldn’t you, Sartha.”

“Yes, sir.”

She doesn’t hesitate before answering, of course. Leinth is just about prepared for that, but she isn’t prepared at all for how plainly eager Sartha is. She’s looking at her handler with hope in her eyes. She wants her handler to say the word. She wants to be given a chance to obey.

No matter what.

Leinth can’t tell if it’s too hot or too cold now. She starts to clamber to her feet, leaning heavily on the nearby wall for support. She feels dizzy. She feels like up is down and down is up. Before she knows it, the handler is right there, merely a kiss away, her eyes inescapable.

“Do you want her, Leinth?” she asks, voice barely a whisper, like what she proposes could be a secret, safely told. “Do you want her body?” She puts her lips against Leinth’s skin. “Do you want her to suck your cock?”

The handler is a pillar of ice, but somehow, just for that one, simple question, she makes her voice impossibly sinful and tempting, like warm syrup being poured into Leinth’s ear. It sticks to her. It makes Leinth’s body stir. Leinth recoils violently, thrown into panic, trying to flee - but she’s already against the wall, there’s nowhere to go.

She can’t let it show. She can’t. But it’s too late, of course.

Disgusting. She’s disgusting. The handler’s disgusting. Hound is disgusting. This is all disgusting.

“You could go down on her too, of course,” the handler adds. “If that’s more to your taste. But I think… yes. This is what you want. Sartha Thrace, on her knees, before you. Warm. Eager. Welcoming.”

“N-no!”

Leinth’s voice trembles. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her fantasies are turning against her and all she can do is turn inward, trying to obliterate them with white-hot shame.

“Well, let’s see.” The handler is ice again as she steps back and beckons Sartha forward. “Here, Sartha. Come. Kneel. Remove your muzzle. Open your mouth.”

“Yes, sir!”

Leinth can hear the eagerness of Sartha’s obedience as she rushes and falls, and briefly fumbles with the strap of her muzzle. Her mind’s eye does the rest, and the picture it paints makes her shiver.

“Look,” the handler commands, and the sheer force of will in her voice is irresistible. “Open your eyes.”

Leinth holds firm for a few moments but it only takes one lapse. One moment of weakness - or perhaps, she fears, of curiosity. Once her lids part, there’s no going back. She’s transfixed. Sartha Thrace is kneeling before her. Her mouth is open. Waiting. She is ready to receive. There’s a warm smile on her face - it’s for her handler, of course, but it could so easily be for Leinth. It would be so easy to pretend. A fantasy, a wet dream, could never be so vivid and so real.

If it wasn’t already too late to pretend, it is now. Leinth is hard. Her clothes aren’t tight, but it’s still obvious.

“There.” The handler says. She’s not smug, just sure. She doesn’t need to be smug. She knew exactly what was going to happen. “Now, Leinth. Should I say the word?”

Leinth shakes her head in mute horror. If she answered ‘yes’, if she even considered it, she’d become something unforgivable.

“Why not?” The handler asks. “You want to. She wants to.”

“She- ah!”

The handler interrupts her by resting her hand on the back of Sartha’s face and pushing her forward until Sartha’s face is pressed against Leinth’s front. The touch is sparks to dry kindling. Leinth twitches awkwardly, trying to shrink back, but there’s nowhere to go and the handler won’t let her.

Sartha, sensing her handler’s intent, starts rubbing and nuzzling, eager, happy to be of use, and that makes it even worse.

“S-she,” Leinth stammers, struggling to keep the thread of her reason taut. “She doesn’t! She’s… you made her like this! It’s your fault! She doesn’t - Sartha Thrace would never - want this.”

“That doesn’t matter.” The handler shuts her down brutally. “Who knows why anyone wants what they want? It doesn’t matter. Look at the woman in front of you.” She turns to Sartha. “Sartha, would you like to clean my boot?”

“Yes, sir!”

Leinth winces. More of that bubbling, twisted eagerness. Each time is another knife.

“Then do so.”

She extends a foot forward pointedly. Again, there’s no hesitation. Sartha bends forward, prostrate, as if in prayer, and puts her lips to the tip of the handler’s long, tall, black, leather boots and begins to kiss. The wet licking sounds that follow stroke Leinth’s imagination.

Leinth wishes she could look away. But Sartha Thrace’s fall is transfixing. It’s a solar eclipse. She’ll take a punch and thank her handler for it. She’ll kiss her boot like it’s a lover. She’ll make herself a whore at her handler’s command. Is there anything she wouldn’t do for that woman? Any limit?

The question provokes an uncomfortable curiosity.

“That will do, Sartha,” the handler says, after several long seconds. “Stand.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sartha’s voice is breathy with excitement. When she stands, Leinth can see that the handler’s boot is shiny with her spit. She keeps staring.

“Look at her, Leinth,” the handler chides. “Not at my boot. Look at her.”

Leinth doesn’t. She doesn’t want to. The handler doesn’t fight her on it. She has other tactics.

“Sartha,” she says. “Kiss her.”

“Hu-“

Leinth can barely breathe before Sartha, her hero, is pressing against her. Their lips meet. Sartha is insistent, and Leinth doesn’t have the strength to push her away. The kiss isn’t chaste or robotic or forced. Sartha sinks into it, willingly embracing her duty. She’s passionate. Eager. After a moment, Leinth sinks too. The fantasy is too nice, even though there’s one unmistakable difference between this and her fond daydreams.

Sartha’s lips taste like leather and boot polish.

Sartha is the one who pulls away in the end, which is its own kind of humiliation. In the moments after the kiss, with her face inches from Leinth’s, she looks breathy. Flushed. It’s enough to make Leinth pine.

“Do you see it yet?” The handler’s voice breaks the moment. It’s as final as a sunset. “She’s not your Sartha Thrace. Not anymore. So why not enjoy her, if it pleases you?” Her smile ticks upwards. “Many have.”

A spike of anger brings with it a kind of clarity. This is wrong. It’s not even a fantasy anymore. Whatever daydreams and intimate thoughts Leinth has succumbed to, here and there, she never wanted this for Sartha. Never.

Many have.

It makes Leinth shudder. This isn’t a wet dream. This isn’t her long-treasured fantasy. This is just… cheap. Cheap titillation. It’s unworthy of her. It’s even more unworthy of Sartha Thrace.

“No!” Leinth cries. She finds her voice for the first time in what feels like an age, and the force in her denial drives Sartha back an uncertain step. The handler looks at her - surprised, perhaps, although more curious than afraid.

“No?” she asks.

“Just go fuck yourself already!” Leinth screams. It feels good to scream. “You can throw me back in the damn cell, but you’re not gonna get me to… to…” She just looks at Sartha. “I don’t know how you got so twisted that you get off on this sick shit, but I’m better than that. She is better than that.”

“She is not.” The handler says it with a knowing smile, like she’s the one who has grasped Sartha’s soul in her hands, and that pisses Leinth off even more.

“Yes she is!” Leinth insists. “She’s Sartha god damn Thrace! She’s a hero. She’s the hero. You can change a lot of things but you can’t change that!”

It feels good to say it to her face. Everything’s fucked up right now, but not Leinth’s faith in Sartha. She’s placing that beyond reach. Her faith is the midday sun, boiling away the morning fog. If nothing else, she can make sure the handler goes to her grave knowing that she was never able to tarnish it.

“There will always be people out there - rebels out there - fighting because they were inspired by her.�� Leinth is finding her theme and her voice. “Her face and her name are on recruitment posters all over the planet. People will always believe in her. I will always believe in her. No matter what you make her say or do, people will always know: it’s not real. It’s not her. The real Sartha Thrace was always a hero.”

For the first time, the handler is silent. Her silence is intoxicating. Seeing her, of all people, seemingly lost for words is almost as rewarding as freedom itself. It’s tempting to keep going, to rub her face in it, but there’s something far more important at stake. Leinth turns, again, to Sartha. She steps forward and clasps her hero by her shoulders, pulling her close.

“And you,” Leinth says. “Listen to me. You will always be a hero. I know that’s not getting through to you right now because of how badly they’ve fucked with your head. But it’s true. We spent a lot of time talking down in that cell. It wasn’t all fake. You can’t tell me that. You’re still in there, somewhere. And one day, you’re gonna get out. You’re gonna escape. You’re gonna find your way back to yourself. It’ll be hard, it’ll be painful, but I know you’ll do it, because that’s what a hero does. And when that day comes, you’ll… you’ll…”

She trails off. There’s something in Sartha’s eyes. She’s listening to her now. Leinth’s words have made it through. The look dawning on her face is real, and that’s exactly what makes it so devastating.

Sartha Thrace looks pained.

It’s a bone-deep, weary kind of pain. Suddenly she doesn’t look like a captured hero or a brainwashed hound. She just looks tired. Like she’s a woman who’s been ground down and chewed up by the world. And now, just by talking, Leinth has become one of the teeth. She’s hurting her. Sartha just wants her to stop.

Leinth can’t go on. She didn’t think it would be like this. In the face of this mysterious wound in Sartha, she’s powerless.

But now, of course, the handler has something to say.

“There’s a chink in the armor of every single human being.” The handler speaks slowly. She wants every word to sink in. “At least one. And if you pry it open, you find a void. If you can fill that void, then they are yours. Right down to their soul. She is the chink in your armor.”

Leinth closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to hear this. She doesn’t want to know that all this, all her defiance, was just another part of this woman’s dance.

“You have such faith in her,” the handler says. “You think it makes you strong. It just makes you brittle. You can think you can handle seeing her broken and dirtied and disappointing. Perhaps. But you cannot handle the real truth of Sartha Thrace.”

It’s that pain. It has to be. Leinth wants to close her heart off to it. To make a hated enemy of Sartha in her head. Then she wouldn’t need to care. She can’t do it, of course.

“The chink in Sartha’s armor,” the handler tells her, “was you.”

Leinth opens her eyes in disbelief.

“Not just you, of course,” the handler adds. “Not you personally. But all of you who call her a hero and worship the ground she walks on. All that faith. All those expectations. Did you think she could carry that much weight? That she didn’t notice? That it didn’t drag her down with every step? She was tired of it, Leinth. Deep in her soul, she was tired of it. She wanted to be free of it. She would never have admitted it out loud, of course. But she knew it all the same. And when I offered her freedom, something deep inside her reached out and took it. That is how I made her mine.”

Leinth is frozen. She never thought about it. Not once. To her, Sartha was always a woman on a poster. Why didn’t she ever…

“I should thank you, shouldn’t I?” The handler says it without mirth. “For helping to wear her down. For helping to deliver her into my arms. And after that little speech, I think she’s more mine than she’s ever been.”

Sometimes, when Leinth pilots Genetor, she takes some pretty fucking big hits. It’s part of the job, after all. Genetor was built for it. It’s the kind of machine that was designed to stare down an avalanche and dare the mountain the do its worst. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like shit, though. It doesn’t matter how heavily built a machine is. When you get hit by heavy ordnance, the force has to go somewhere. It goes through you. And the noise. It’s deafening, in the most literal sense. After some battles, Leinth can’t hear properly for hours afterward. There’s nothing in her ears but a skull-splitting mosquito whine of complaint.

Even that doesn’t compare to how bad her head is ringing now.

It was her fault?

She looks at Sartha once again. That’s the only thing that can save her now. Sartha telling her that it’s a lie. That she never felt that way. That she was OK with it. But Sartha avoids her gaze, and her shame speaks louder than any words.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? She’s still just looking to Sartha to save her.

“A hero, a martyr, or a traitor,” the handler muses. “Those are the only fates you left her with. No wonder it was so easy to make her a hound instead.”

Leinth gets it now. There are no heroes down here. Not a one.

“Sartha,” the handler says once she’s sure it’s all sunk in. She knows the signs. The slumped shoulders. The sagging, lightless eyes. “Off The Leash. You can take Leinth to my room now. She’s ready for my personal attention.”

It’s a mercy to be faced with Hound instead of Sartha. Hound knows no shame, and no judgment either. Hound doesn’t hesitate. She just puts a hand on Leinth’s shoulder and starts guiding her, unresisting, away from the light and deeper into the catacombs beneath the base.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, J, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, Red, dmtph, Queenfisher, MegatronTarantulas, NewtypeWoman, WhyamIhere, Vanessa, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, ntad, The Flock, Shadows exile, Jackson, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, John, ZephanyZephZeph, Michael, Be_Be, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, paxDulcetGirl, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Myles_EXVS, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jack the Monkey, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, Christopher, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Slifer274, Roxxie, Phoenix, Ivy, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Yaoups, Thomas, Liz, Ali, naivetynkohan, Ada, ds2coffin, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, night, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, DarthZipper, Jose, Bouncyrou, Anonymous, ravenfan, Bacon Man, Pluto

#story #Warhound

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randyortonofficial · 2 months

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title: build our kingdom pairing: randy orton/cody rhodes word count: 2759 important tags: fluff, humor description: It’s the biggest night of Cody Rhodes’ life, therefore, it’s the biggest night of Randy Orton’s life. Cody has always wanted to do this on his own, but when they both learned Cody was going to beat Roman Reigns at Wrestlemania for the title, Cody didn’t even think twice before telling Randy he had to be out there with him at the end to begin the celebration.

April 7th, 2024

It’s the biggest night of Cody Rhodes’ life, therefore, it’s the biggest night of Randy Orton’s life.

Cody has always wanted to be his own man. He didn’t want to live in anyone’s shadow, or be anyone’s understudy, and because of that, he and Randy don’t really share any screentime together. He doesn’t want people to think he got here solely because of his friendship, or now, relationship with him. It’s something Randy has always respected, and one of the reasons why Randy likes him so much to begin with - that burning desire to make a name for himself without anyone’s help.

But when they both learned Cody was going to beat Roman Reigns at Wrestlemania for the title, Cody didn’t even think twice before telling Randy he had to be out there with him at the end to begin the celebration.

Everyone in that arena is overcome with emotion for Cody, no matter who it is. Fans, commentary, even Samantha Irwin, the ring announcer, can not contain herself as she stammers through announcing the new undisputed champion.

And Randy Orton, a man infamous for displaying little emotion, is having a hard time containing himself also as he heads down the ramp and up the stairs to the ring to kneel down right beside his husband with a reassuring hand right on the back of his neck.

“You did it,” Randy manages to get out softly. “You made it, Cody.”

Cody looks up to Randy with the biggest, boyish smile as he clings tighter onto his hard earned world title. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

In front of everyone, they lean in to capture each other’s lips at the same time in a chaste display of affection before Cody drops his head against Randy’s chest. Randy wraps his arms around Cody tight and closes his eyes.

“Gonna make me cry, man,” he huffs a chuckle.

“Come on, I’m the crier between us,” Cody teases. “And the people aren’t prepared for Randy Orton’s tears of joy-”

“I give a fuck about you. Who cares about everyone else?”

Cody snorts as he pulls away to look into Randy’s glassy eyes. Despite his teasing, Cody finds himself tearing up more seeing the first tear drop down Randy’s cheek. He pouts a little as they both bring a hand up to wipe the tears away from each other, little chuckles shared at the fact that they’re crying together in front of millions and millions of people, before they take each other’s hands to stand up on their feet.

Randy sniffs and pats Cody’s chest, right above his Dream tattoo. “Go show off.”

With a prompt nod, Cody turns to head to the ref so he can be paraded around the ring with his new title. Randy stands at the ringposts and takes it all in, the electricity of the crowd and the infectious glee his husband displays as he holds up his title for all to see, as he looks around at all his adoring fans, as he looks up to the Wrestlemania sign before saying, “I did it, dad. I won.”

Randy has to shut his eyes tightly to try and hold back the tears that are trying to come through again.

Cody has been through so much to get to this point. He’s literally bled and sweat for this. This is all Cody has wanted, ever since he was a little boy, and no matter what, even when he left WWE to travel around the world in the indy scene and eventually create AEW, that was always his end goal - to main event Wrestlemania, become the world champion, and make his dad and their legacy proud.

Even if Dusty isn’t physically here, Randy can feel his spirit permeating over the ring. It’s kind of overwhelming how much he can feel him, moreso, how proud he is of his son.

When Cody looks back to Randy with tears rolling down his cheeks, Randy knows that Cody can feel it too.

The ring soon fills up with all of their friends and family, from the likes of John Cena all the way to Alanna, all dressed in true American Nightmare branding for her stepfather. Randy has his whole life to spend with Cody, so he stays out to the side to let everyone give their congratulations and support, hugs and handshakes and what not, and he’s laughing with joy as Sami and Jey hoist Cody high up into the air.

Randy’s won a million world titles, but he’s never had a celebration quite like this. He’s never been on the cover of a WWE game, he’s not the face of WWE, he hasn’t won back-to-back Royal Rumbles, nor does he want any of that. Cody’s accomplishments are his own, and they are what set him apart from everyone else.

Cody said he always wanted to be like Randy, but he doesn’t anymore. Now, he can be like Cody.

John comes on over to pat Randy’s ass. “You did good, man.”

Randy huffs a fond breath through his nose and quirks a small grin. “He’s worked so hard,” he tells him. “We’ve been through so much, I…” He bites his lip and shakes his head. “This still doesn’t feel real.”

John shrugs. “Agree to disagree. Listen, if Cody could tame your wild ass and get you to like guys,” he raises a knowing eyebrow and smirks, “then winning the world title in the main event at Wrestlemania is a cake walk.”

Randy scoffs and pushes John away by the shoulder. As he gives Cody his attention again, he sees Sami smiling over at him and waving him over.

“Come on, dude!” Sami says. “Show him off to the world!”

Cody’s eyes widen as he looks back and forth between the two men. “Guys, no, no, no-”

Randy is laughing maniacally as he comes on over to hoist Cody up into the air with Sami. Cody, despite his protests, rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a fond grin as he rests a hand on Randy’s upper back. After some seconds, he looks down to Randy and Randy looks up to him in return.

In that moment, the entire world turns into a monochromatic blur.

They’re staring into each other’s blue eyes so thoughtfully. Their lives together flash by in seconds; from the first time they met, to their first kiss, to getting together, moving in, getting married, and everything in between.

Seventeen years, they’ve known each other.

Fourteen years, they’ve been together.

Ten years, they’ve been married.

This year, they’ve achieved everything they’ve set out to do, and best of all, they did it together.

Randy blinks slowly at Cody before his lips upturn into a proud, but loving smile, the most loving one he thinks he’s ever given Cody, and Cody thinks so too since Randy can see him trying hard to hold back his tears again.

Cody’s hand comes up to hold the back of Randy’s head, fingers gently scratching against him. As his eyes travel over his husband’s face, he asks, “until the end of time?”

“I know you’re the one for me,” Cody tells him. “I’ve always known that but - I swear, everyday, I get reminders of it. How… how perfect you are for me, how perfect we are for each other and…” He closes his eyes tightly. “I just can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, Codes,” Randy whispers back. “I can’t either, but we are here. This is real, all of this is.” He threads his fingers through Cody’s hair to give a slight tug and Cody looks up into Randy’s eyes, only for a second, because Randy is pressing their lips together. It’s a few moments and then they’re properly looking into each other’s eyes again.

Randy’s smile sets Cody at ease once more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Randy tells him. “Neither is any of this. You’re with me forever, Cody, and I’m going to take care of you and do everything for you until the end of time.”

Cody smiles, in the way Randy loves so dearly, with his eyes crinkling and Randy’s heart flipping upon the sight. Quietly to his new husband, Cody tells him, “until the end of time, Randy.”

Randy nods solemnly. “Until the end of time, baby.”

Then, Cody is let down so they can celebrate in the ring all over again.

Randy runs his hands down his face before clasping his hands in front to help hide his expression. He averts his gaze from Cody to gather himself, and he swears if he leans in and squints, he can see Seth tightly hugging Roman at the end of the ramp and very tenderly carding his fingers through his hair.

Looks like they’re not the only ones to have an intimate moment together tonight.

Everyone begins to filter from the ring, one by one, until Cody is left standing in the middle with Randy on the outside.

With one final look to each other, they smile once more, and then suddenly, Cody is cheering loudly and spreading his arms wide out, gold title on display around his waist as the many, many fireworks shoot up into the sky. Interplays of color cast over the stadium, from red to yellow to blue, but the shade that stands out most of all is the elusive shade of Cody Rhodes.

They walk each other up the ramp, hand in loving hand. Cody continues to wave and play to the crowd, acknowledging every single person that even looks his way, but all Randy can do is look at Cody, look at his husband, and think of how far he’s come and how much he’s earned his spot.

It’ll always be him and Cody.

Then, now, and until the end of time.

Once they make it backstage, away from any and all prying eyes, Randy feels completely comfortable again, and because of that, it leads way for him to let the tears freely roll down his cheeks. He has to hold a hand up over his face and press down hard, even squeezes hard at Cody’s hand, and Cody stops in his tracks to turn to Randy.

“What did we say, Randy?” Cody chuckles, but it doesn’t have much humor to it - rather, a tinge of concern. “I’m the crier-”

“Man, I’m just so fucking proud of you.” Randy drops his hand to look down into Cody’s eyes. “Nobody else deserves this more than you, and I - I’ve been fucking waiting for this moment forever, ever since Legacy, and now it’s here and…” He presses his lips tightly together and shrugs. “I dunno. I dunno how to deal with it-”

“You don’t know?” Cody scoffs and lets go of Randy’s hand to settle his own two hands over his title. “How do you think I feel? I…” He looks down to his title and lets out a shaky gasp. “I… I-I’m the world champion, Randy. I-I won. I won in the main event-”

“Of Wrestlemania,” they both finish together. They both can’t help but chuckle earnestly as they look back into each other’s eyes again.

Cody looks over Randy’s face again. His hands curl tightly into fists, as if to restrain himself, before shaking his head and bringing them up to hold Randy’s face in his hands.

“I wouldn’t be here today without you,” he reminds him. “I wouldn’t be who I am today without you, Randy. I talk a whole lot about how I wanted to get here by myself, with no help from anyone, how I wanted to be independent and get out from people’s shadows, and I did but I’d be beyond stupid to think I wouldn’t be here without you. You were so instrumental in my journey, from my growth not just in my career, but as a person. You taught me what matters, you showed me how to ground myself, how to prepare myself for the worst, you showed me the world, Randy…” Cody lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes as he presses his forehead to Randy’s.

“You showed me the world, and you gave me the world.”

Randy brings his hands up to hold onto Cody’s shoulders and takes a deep breath. “I love you, Cody,” he whispers into the sliver of space between them. “More than anything. You’ve come so far. You’ve dealt with so much fucking shit and you proved everyone wrong, proved them all wrong and I knew you were going to, I knew it-”

“You believed in me since day one,” Cody gasps. “You believed in me when no one else did, Randy. You always believed in me, even the times when I didn’t believe in myself. In my darkest hours, you were there. You were always there and that’s why I’m here.”

Randy’s not too good at words. Never has, never will, though being with Cody has strengthened his vocabulary considerably. He’s always expressed himself best through actions, so it makes sense to Cody when Randy surges forward then and there to claim his lips so passionately and tenderly.

All the things Randy wants to say to Cody is done with one powerful kiss, and it’s worth a thousand words, each single one waxing poetic of how strongly he feels for his husband and all he’s been through in his 38 years of living.

Their lips drag away from each other so slowly, and they steal one more kiss before pulling away enough to gaze into each other’s eyes-

“Don’t think about it.”

Cody and Randy furrow their eyebrows and look over to see Hunter with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Think about what?” Cody asks.

“I don’t care how long you guys have been waiting for this moment,” Hunter tells them. “It does not give you an excuse to have incredibly loud, rough sex all over the locker room.”

“Come on, man, it’s a special day!” Randy groans as he drops his hands from Cody’s shoulders. “And you know how special it is too!”

“Please, Hunter?” Cody widens his baby blue eyes ever so slightly at his boss. “You know how much I’ve been through to get here-”

Hunter sighs. “Look, nobody knows better than me-”

“And do you remember? When you were the one that wanted to have that kind of sex with me?”

Hunter huffs and shakes his head before quirking a grin. “Sure, I did until I realized how disgustingly in love you two were with each other…” Then, with squinted eyes, he presses his lips together. He looks back and forth between Cody and Randy, and Cody and Randy just look to each other wondering what the hell Hunter is thinking about before suddenly, Hunter is groaning out loud and flinging his hands in the air.

“Okay!” Hunter sighs and holds up a finger. “Just this once, I will not say a thing.”

Cody and Randy smile big and high five each other.

“Fuck yeah!” Randy gets down on one knee to prepare to lift up Cody. “Let’s-”

“Not now.” Hunter raises a pointed eyebrow before grabbing Cody’s wrist. He looks over to the new undisputed champion and pats his title. “You got media, kid, and a big press conference to do. You guys can defile the locker room later.”

Cody rolls his eyes and looks back to Randy. “Catch you after the press conference?”

“More like I’ll be catching you.” Randy winks and clicks his tongue. “Better be coming to me with spread arms and spread-”

“Keep that thought to yourself, Randy.” Hunter quickly ushers Cody away. “Alright, so…”

Randy chuckles before turning around to head into Cody’s locker room to do just that.

Cody’s moans carry through the concrete walls of the backstage area and into Hunter’s ears. At this point, Hunter is used to it, so he continues to casually stroll down the hallway until he sees an intern staring rather curiously at the wall.

“Hey, kid.” Hunter shoves his hands into his pockets. “Something wrong?”

“Do you hear that?” the intern asks. “What’s that noise?”

Hunter allows an almost fond smile to grace his lips. “Just a ghost, son,” he tells him after patting him on the shoulder. “Just a ghost.”

As the intern walks away, still with an aura of uncertainty, Hunter looks back to the source of the noise. With a shake of the head, he chuckles before continuing down the hall, and thusly, into the new era of WWE; helmed by Cody Rhodes.

#candy #my fics #hope u all enjoy xoxo #god knows i did!!

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shankschewtoy · 2 years

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Can I pls get hcs for luffy and law with a male s/o that has a higher bounty than them and has stronger powers that can easily make them a emperor if they were to get caught on the news

a/n - why yes ofc anon :) I feel like this is gonna be chaotic on specifically Luffy’s part 😭

Warnings ⚠️ - male reader, chaos

Luffy

- you don’t even know how hyped he is

- like.

- he is SO EXCITED

- but also kinda jealous

- BUT EXCITED

- kinda jealous

- he goes back and forth lmao 💀

- immediately wants to fight you

- he wants to see if he can at least hold his own against you

- when you beat his ass you better give him cuddles bec he’ll be all pouty 🙄

- he will refuse to talk until he eats meat

- it always makes him feel better 😭

- ok yes he’s a bit hurt that you have a higher bounty than him

- he’s just competitive like that ✨

- but! He’s also super excited about it

- He loves having you by his side while knowing you’re literally one of the strongest people in the world

- sometimes he wonders why you won’t become a Yonko but that’s your decision :)

- oh dw he still protects you lmao

- he still can’t get over the fact that you don’t really need rescuing but he’ll do anything for you 🥺

- He shares his meat only with people he’s super close to, and those who he thinks are pretty admirable!

- and with that, he’ll share his meat without a second thought with you :)

- just don’t eat it all or else he might start getting bratty 💀

- if you ramble about your powers, he’ll gladly show you all of his!!

- he LOVES exchanging power showdowns

- god he gets so excited whenever he sees one of your moves

- it’s like his eyes sparkle 🥹✨

- PLS PLS PLS STAY BY THIS BOY’S SIDE 😭😭😭

Law

- his first reaction was like: …. Good job

- and then he got excited after a couple days-

- idk why he couldn’t just skip to the “he’s happy for you” part but he’s law so let’s let him be lmao

- He’s actually not surprised at all

- man knows you’re REALLY powerful

- He always thought you would become a yonko at some point, even when he first laid eyes on you

- Oh god you have to rescue him sometimes right??

- man will be so embarrassed

- You’re carrying him bridal style while running away 💀

- pls he turns into Kid’s hair color 😭

- Man FREAKS OUT whenever you come to rescue him (which isn’t that often but it still happens)

- he always says: “I don’t need saving y/n. I’m fine.”

- *About to be roasted alive over an open flame*

- law finds it difficult to accept help from you bec he feels bad that he’s not the one doing it to you :(

- ok please just get yourself captured and let him save you so he’ll feel better about himself 😭

- He finds that he feels a bit weak when you always gotta rescue his ass

- Reassure him that he’s perfect the way he is and that you find it kinda cute

- he might melt and die tho 😭

- He still doesn’t know even why you manage to carry him bridal style every single damn time when you rescue him 💀

- honestly I’d pay to see someone carry law bridal style 🙄

- You’re amazing, and he fucking knows it

- You got a higher bounty than him? He’s not jealous at all! (Unlike mr rubber man)

- he’s actually very proud of you :D

- Emo boy loves how strong you are 🥺

a/n - this is barely proofread I’m so sorry- 😭

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece hcs #anime hcs #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #law one piece #monkey d. luffy #luffy one piece #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #one piece fluff

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seoz-seoz · 1 year

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Here are my favorites from this last year 😗✌️

I like each of these for a different reason, they all have different things I'm proud of, like how i drew obito's soft gaze in the snuggling one, the tattoo design on sai, the creativity in the halloween costume drawing, how i think i captured gai's smile, etc etc.

Brain dump ahead:

Wow another year lived. It’s been.. a year. Well I got back into naruto again after one random week when I was super sick and i decided to binge watch all of shippuden except the end part, if I don't see it then its not real and it cant hurt me /j. After that ofc i got seriously insanely fucking obsessed. Mostly with obito. and also kakashi/kkob.. and rin/obkkrin... and a bunch of other characters and ships. but mostly. obito.

I've grown as an artist since I started drawing in this fandom again. My autistic powers of hyperfixation have allowed me to draw all the fucking time. Bc of that I've learned lots of new techniques and skills and have improved all around. I still struggle a lot with my self esteem and imposter syndrome as an artist, so I'm not always happy with what I make and where I'm at. But I am growing, and at least I’m proud of the parts of these drawings I mentioned.

Most importantly,I want to mention that I'm grateful for my followers, my mutuals, and all those who engage with my art. I do read the tags and I'm always grateful for the ones that are funny or kind or just plain keysmashes. 💕

To my mutuals- thank you for being so kind and hilarious and supportive to me. Especially in these last months which have been very hard for me physically and mentally. You all always manage to make my day a little brighter. It really means a lot. Sending everyone (not just my mutuals!!) some joy, love, and strength to get through this next year. (I thought about tagging my mutuals, but then i realized im afraid I'll forget someone and I'd feel awful for that)

Here's to 2023, and hoping that this year: 1. everyone's overall health improves as much as possible, 2. i get to keep drawing as often as i can, 3. bigots get curb-stomped and then decide to change their views and be better people /hj, 4. capitalism is dismantled, and 5. everyone gets at least one wish come true. No I’m not hoping for too much. I’ll do my best to make sure these hopes become reality.

Happy 2023 🥳✌️🧡 -seoz

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theeleventhhour · 9 months

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I was looking in my inbox for your ask @catb-fics and somehow it was deleted but I wanted to do it anyway so here I am, better late than never

Favourite Van pic

It’s hard to choose only one but that I remember these are ones of my favourites

Favourite Van quote

- "I'm really in to words, so l've always wrote lyrics and stories, since I can remember really. In school I could never spell. I was a bit dyslexic, so I would always get words mixed up all the time, but I was always good at capturing a story.”

Even though he wasn’t able to read properly he managed to introduce some interesting and complex vocabulary in his songs and it fascinates me

- "My dancing style? Captain Jack Sparrow when he runs meets Austin Powers when he blows them fembots up"

Hilarious

- “I'm terrible in bed but I'm incredible with my hands.”

No comments

- "They just don't know what they're on about. They say, 'We just want to make music for ourselves.' But if you wanted to make music for yourself, why did you leave your fucking bedroom? Why play a gig? Why stick it on the internet with fucking artwork and sell it on iTunes for 79p? You want to be successful. You're just talking bullshit. I think people see through it, to be honest. If selling out means playing to 100,000 people, making them lose their shit with their best mates and their girlfriends, then I want to sell out! If it's going on a Hellmans advert and getting two million quid for it then 'Fuck, I love mayonnaise!'"

I think is such a lovely thing that he didn’t made all for fame but because he is a guy who loves music above all and wanted to share his passion

- "I've hated guitar since I started. It hurts my hands. It's heavy. It cost me money to buy when I was a kid. They break. They all sound shite and out of tune anyway. I hate face-melting guitar solos. Why would I want to melt anyone's face? I got into music to make lads bounce, girls blush and my dad feel proud. I didn't get into it to melt someone's fucking head off."

Again the purpose of what he wanted to do with his music and honestly I get the point of being not cheap invest on instruments, but I love the solos only I’m not capable yet bc I’m too lazy 😅

Favourite Van moment

Well is not only Van’s but I bet it was his idea bc wtf else could come with that? I mean ninja masks? I want to kiss his stupid brain he’s really brilliant coming up with solutions in order to pursue his dream

Him hitting himself on stage for being hyperactive:

Yeah, I always chip my teeth on the mic stand. The first show in San Francisco on the last chord, no one could see because the lights went off, but the in-ears pack came off and hit me in the eye. I came offstage with a pretty big, overhand-right-looking, swollen eyebrow. But yeah, I like moving the mic around.

And this interview (idk if it refers at the same moment

Also almost every single one interview of his early 20s, they were another level

#National Van Day #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #van mccann

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desultory-novice · 2 years

Note

What are your favorite Kirby boss fight osts? I think there are too few people discussing this.

First, you are absolutely right to want more discussion about Kirby boss fight songs because they are amazing! Whenever a "best of" discussion comes up, it quickly boils down to a debate between "CROWNED!" "Mind in a Program!" "Moonstruck Blossom!" and lately, "Two Planets Approach the Roche Limit!" which are all good songs (...we all know which one I'm biased toward) but there are so many others that get passed over in favor of the mega hits!

So, I'm going to take this time to look at almost all of the boss fight songs! And not just the last boss fights, but the major boss fights as well! (Sorry, mini boss battles. Maybe next time.)

As you can imagine, doing this will take a LOT of words. And it's also going to take more than one post. This post will be for the GB to DS era. I'll do Wii+ in a later post. A final note that I'm not really musically trained, in fact, I'm a bit tone deaf, so most of my reactions/descriptions will be based on feel!

[Kirby Boss Battle Music Breakdown Pt.1]

[24 Songs Total]

Kirby's Dream Land

[King Dedede]

This has to be one of the most famous songs in Kirby, next to Green Greens and Gourmet Race. And listening to it, you can hear why! Oh, it’s an incredibly short loop, with none of the fanciness that would get added to the theme later, but it’s still a bop, keeping you energized all throughout the final level, which it plays throughout. More than just a stage theme though, it captures a lot of Dedede's exuberant energy too! I mean, we're talking about a (self-proclaimed) king of generally indeterminate age but of a kingly size that gives him a definite weight-class advantage over our 16 pixel high hero! But this song isn't about a bully beating up a kid. It's about a big guy who's a big kid himself, at least at heart! The pure “rush” of this song (not urgency but vibrance) codifies that Dedede is Kirby's eternal rival, and it does so before the idea of a Kirby "franchise" was even a Twinkle (Popo) in NIntendo's eye!

Kirby's Adventure

[Nightmare Orb]

...Ugh, I don’t like this song at all. Partly because I hate this phase of Nightmare. I never manage to land quite enough hits on him and Kirby crashes into the ground while the orb escapes. It sucks. Also, this song is pretty one note. Or like...6. I guess it does its job of sowing the tension. I’d blame the NES’s sound quality, but there’s some really famously good tracks on the NES. Anyway, how much this song grates on me doesn't matter because...!

[Nightmare Wizard]

...Nightmare's actual theme is GREAT! Who said the wizard with the gigantic chin and no backstory was allowed to have a theme that rocks this much?! There's still that tense, fast-paced beat from before, but the song is much more meaty now. And that little...oh geez, what are those? Flutes? I mean, they're highly synthesized, this being the NES, but HAL's sound team of this era loved flutes, so I'm going to assume it's a flute! Anyway, it's great?! It injects a sense of whimsy into the battle and I'm not sure whether its there to represent Kirby’s presence or whether Nightmare himself has hidden depths...? (Dess keeps desperately looks for Nightmare's hidden depths, knowing I won't find much.) Anyway, Kirby's already set up its legacy of great boss tunes just two games in!

(I’m a little sad this song didn’t get more airtime in the concert, btw.)

Kirby's Dream Land 2

[Dark Matter Blade - “Duel in the Darkened Sky”]

I love Dark Matter Blade a lot, but this song is verrrrrry close to Nightmare Orb's theme in that it kinda bothers me to listen to? What saves it in the end is that it has some really interestingly "character" vibes going on here. (Also, it’s got a great title. It’ll be a while until we start getting those Touhou-esque song names that Kumazaki himself was so proud of, but this is an early example of a name that evokes a feeling.) Anyway, the element of character was missing from Nightmare's excellent bop, but its nicely present here, if lowkey, so that scores it points. I say this because Dark Matter Blade comes out of nowhere to be this weird alien space invader type of deal? And the song is just discordant enough that it matches that feel of "Wait, what the heck?!?" that I think DL2 was trying to get across with the introduction of the first of our Dark Matter bosses.

(And Dess’s favorite to this day. Blade! Woo, yeah!)

And that discordant, alien-invader, “what the heck?! are we in some kind of space sci-fi now?!" feel is continued with the very next notes of...

[Dark Matter]

I mentioned in a different post when fawning about “CROWNED” that there's this opening reveal sting that becomes ironic because Magolor is totally NOT what he wanted to become. And here we see the very first use of that "Shock and awe" opening sting in Kirby as the cool space warrior, Dark Matter Blade, takes off his clock to reveal...he’s a giant eyeball?! Anyway, this song downplays some of the elements of “Duel” that bothers me, and so is a little easier on the ears, even if it's more repetitive in the end...

Kirby's Block Ball

[Brobo / Boss Theme]

...Okay, okay, this is actually the generic theme that they play for any boss that's not Dedede, but Brobo gets forgotten enough in this series, so we're going to posthumously (...Did I just kill Brobo?!) declare this to be the Forgotten Last Boss’s theme! Anyway, it's got some funky robot-like vibes to it, especially that siren-like noise at the beginning, so it suits them!

It’s another short loop. But heck if this one isn't a lot of fun! It's not going to stick in your head for years and years, like Dedede's theme, but you could put it on one of those hour long loops while doing something repetitive and barely notice, I bet! It does a fine job getting the competitive spirit pumping!

Note: I know I've skipped over a lot of Dedede themes to this point from the various spinoff games and I'm going to skip over more! That's because you could make an entire post out of Dedede themes alone and while they're all quite good, I want to get this post over with before the end of the year! Haha!

With that said, we're leaving the NES and Gameboy era behind and skipping right along to the SNES and Super Star!

Kirby's Super Star

[Gourmet Race]

NOT TECHNICALLY A BOSS THEME but we weren't getting out of here without me giving at least a nod to the famous “Gourmet Race” theme! Question! How many of you first heard this in Smash Bros and as its orchestral remix and thought it was the theme of the Fountain of Dreams and not a silly mini-game in which Kirby and Dedede race to see who can stuff their faces the fastest?!

Anyway, this theme is classic. It's sooo good! It has been lovely parodied/remixed a dozen times and may continue to do so, just because of how darn lyrical it is! Without lyrics!! You can just tell that HAL's sound team have been having a completely great time with the SNES's expanded sound opportunities and Gourmet Race is a perfect example! And that little springy SPROING! noise whenever it gets started! I really wish I knew more about music so I could praise this harder. But yes. Gourmet race!

[Meta Knight - “Battle with Meta Knight”]

Meta Knight's Revenge, origin of the grammy winning masterpiece by Button Masher and The 8-Bit Big Band, probably gets more attention as regards songs from Meta Knight's Revenge, and for good reason. (It’s really good!) But while the coolest knight in the galaxy’s first outing in the boss battle arena (err, with his own unique theme) is more lowkey and underplayed, I do really enjoy how much is going on in the back melody (...use your words, Dess...) of this song. The bass (?) drum (?) line...? Whatever it is, takes up so much of the song, yet you've got these moments of stronger sounds rising up slowly from the background. Also this wild riff type thing creeping up out of nowhere...

:takes a deep breath:

What I'm trying to say is that this song is surprisingly perfect for the MASKED Meta Knight, whose complex backstory and secret motivations, as well as his love of battle are all "disguised" by that beat, but those slightly jazzy elements (no wonder they had him play the sax! It was there in plain sight all along!) peak through constantly during the song, just like how you get a glimpse of Meta's face when you beat him! ...It's meaningful!!

[Marx - “Meddlesome Marx”]

:cheers wildly:

Every song I've praised up until now? You guys are great and all but “Meddlesome Marx” is here and now we have a new high bar for Kirby last boss songs! I mean it. Even over King Dedede's expanding leitmotifs.

Meddlesome Marx is so amazingly good, I just ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. A-ahem. Not only is it beautiful to listen to, with HAL using the BEST sounds they've uncovered in their time with the SNES (that flute-esque sound in Nightmare's song has evolved to becomes this amazing little giggly woodwind here that is both gorgeous and haunting) and our key Kirby series composers just making something that isn’t just interesting, or “neat” but really pleasant too?!

Also, while I HATE "Marx is just crazy, that’s it" as an interpretation of his character, this song does has that perfect little bit of musical "sanity slippage" where you expect the initial melody to repeat nicely and whoops! They slip in another pair of notes to drag it out unexpectedly! (Again, I don’t know music terms. I apologize.) If “Dancing Mad” wasn’t already used for another famous video game BGM of this era, I’d say it’d be a good potential title for this one. (...Am I the only one with likes-to-dance!Marx HCs...?)

But that hitch, it’s like Marx is basically waiting for you to get into a rhythm and repeat the notes verbatim and is now rolling over giggling when you inevitably trip over it. The song itself is saying, "Haha! I FOOLED you!" I gather there’s also stuff going on with time signature changes here, which are presumably pulling a similar trick to the listener. Which I love for a lot of reasons? It plays into the song being a “jest” but also “time” = clock(work) = Galactic Nova.

Not content to be just playful, it's also TENSE and has these moments of creeping dread looming up, fitting for a last boss fight with the entire planet at stake! While I don't necessarily hear any notes of “Green Greens” (?) it does have that triumphant bridge (?) that will be inherited in many other boss fights in the future - something to represent Kirby’s part of the battle. And that bridge (?) will usually have some bit of “Green Greens” or other classic Kirby song in it.

...I think the number of feelings this song evokes in me is why I'm never really satisfied with any remix of it? Nothing quite surpasses the original to me. Try to make it too creepy? You miss the point. Marx is a gleeful villain! His song should be about that rush of acquiring the power cosmic and the giddy feeling of your plan being soooooo close to completion! And if you go all haunted house vibes with it, you're losing the discordant elements that make him so haunting. The bright colors and the energy he brings to the fight! Again, I’ve seen people question why we Marx fans care so much about a character with barely any dialogue. He's got no backstory, no “character”...

But Kirby characters are defined by so much more than what they say, as we should hopefully know by now. (It’s not like the series is known for its massive amounts of dialogue anyway.) A character’s theme music is as much a tool to understand them as their pause screen lore is. And I'd count Marx's as one of the first to go all in on "his true story is in his music."

(...Something I'm going to not shut up about when I reach “CROWNED.”)

Kirby's Dream Land 3

[Dark Matter - Hyper Zone 1]

What they wanted and kiiiiinda missed the mark on with Dark Matter Blade/Dark Matter in DL2, they did a MUCH better job here! The otherworldliness? The space/alien vibes? All here. Yet with a much more interesting melody and a wider variety of fun instruments. There’s also a strange sense of divinity thanks to the crystalline instruments used. An excellent setup for the fact that we’re about to encounter what you might call the “god” of the Dark Matter.

Also, I love that little jingly noise mixed in there that gives you a strong sense of a starry sky. The Dark Matter you fight in DL3 presumably isn't the same one as Blade (unless we assume Blade to be re-absorbed/co-opted by Zero, which would be tragic...Poor Blade...Just wanted friends...) but I feel like the music trying to put us in mind of a starry sky is a nice callbacks to Blade’s fight.

Basically, this is a lovely “retake” of Dark Matter's theme, just like DL3 gave us a chance to fight Dark Matter in color! (And introduce them to a wider audience. It's sad when your best lore is tucked away in a Gameboy sequel!)

[Zero - Hyper Zone 2]

I really, really like the opening sting here! As much as I like Zero for the lore, I'm not 100 on the speed of this song though? Now, the whistling gives the song a really strong vibe of emptiness -- like the wind howling through an empty void. Get it, void? But I don’t know, the core part of the later bit of the song seems to focus on a heroic vibe: the presence of Kirby. While the heroism angle only surfaced for a moment in Marx's theme, it's slightly more present here for a longer period. Fair, because we're talking about a two stage boss, and by this point, you want to cheer the player on! I also like how those uplifting notes come in stronger at the end of the loop, showing that, as the two forces clash, Kirby's hope and positivity really is coming out on top. The care that gave birth to the love love stick (heh) shows that the loving heart will triumph!

Kirby Super Star Stacker

[Gryll]

Yeahhhhhh, Gryll!!

Sadly, this one has no flashy opening like in Block Ball, being just a solid, and sadly, an incredibly short loop! It's a really fun one though! I don't know how they pulled it off, but each time the phrase (?) in the song changes, it gets slightly more...claustrophobic feeling? An excellent choice in a game where the point is to save yourself from a rising tide of blocks before you're overwhelmed.

I imagine that, if you're unprepared, the possibility exists that you'll actually be right about the point of losing by the time the song has reached that part of the loop where it's beginning to crowd you! Each “bwoop” sound brings in another row. And another. And another!! A great way to bring tension to the game’s secret last stage and last boss that NEEDS ANOTHER APPEARANCE.

A-ahem.

Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards

[Miracle Matter]

We return to that Dark Matter-esque phrase I'm not completely in love with, but I absolutely respect the follow-through! Tbh, when I first started out on this, I thought I couldn't say much positive about Miracle Matter's theme, much like Nightmare Orb. But after listening to my boss playlist enough, I've started to come around on it. Especially when you take the whole "boss music as character revealing" thing into account. Because Miracle Matter's theme has this almost...bitcrush vibe to it! I'm still not sure we know anything solid on what Miracle Matter even is, which makes the heavily remixed-sounding nature of the song interesting. Perhaps revealing of the boss's hollow nature...?

It’s a very action/shooting game tune. Maybe the most we’ve heard to date? Not a last boss, but a stage boss. Which is interesting when we follow it up with...

[Zero2]

...Now THIS feels like the last boss of a side-scrolling danmaku game. Something like Radiant Silvergun or Ikaruga, just without Hitoshi Sakimoto at the head. (In fairness, this is actually a shooting game boss fight! Hohoho!) The opening sting is BRILLIANT. Love it. Mystical and powerful and really brings you into the game for this moment. This one boss fight. (I say as someone who was just kind of playing Crystal Shards by the numbers till I got till the end. Getting all those shards and avoiding the bad ending is a TASK and it wouldn’t be weird to be a little exhausted depending upon how much back tracking you have to do. But this song immediately refreshes you and reminds you of the stakes.

Okay, so, I still refuse to put it over Marx's theme, but we're back into the really great character themes now, of the boss’s nature being defined by their music. I believe there's a mild argument going on over whether the "Zero 2 can't feel emotions or not" is false lore? (I haven't looked it up myself) But even if it is a mistranslation (?) I can see why it continues to gain spread, because this song is SAD. It pulls at your heartstrings, especially the longer it goes on.

I complained about my issues with Zero’s theme being that it was almost too triumphant? Too speedy? “Beat the bad guy, beat the bad guy!” But it’s worth it to have that, dare I say, misinterpretation of what it means to battle Zero there just for the complete emotional turn around here.

Considering that what you're fighting is altogether likely the corpse of Zero, the shell potentially struggling to regain its lost innocence as a once upon a time pure-hearted Void Termina-esque being... (Confused lore or not, Void does share the Hyper Zone BG effect. That’s got to mean something.)

The consistent back beat that pervades all the other Dark Matter-related fights finally FINALLY takes a step back, again showing that Zero 2 is struggling to become something...or reclaim something of itself. There’s nothing triumphant here. There can be nothing triumphant. Only melancholy. A zero sum victory.

A really powerful song. Fitting for our last Dark Matter boss for a long while.

Kirby and the Amazing Mirror

[Dark Meta Knight]

Poor GBA sound quality. I feel like the chance to have some really expressive songs here is definitely hampered by the "hearing it through a pair of 10 year old earphones while also underwater" nature of the music. That said, Dark Meta Knight's theme still has some fun bits to it. There's the slightly discordant nature of it, which is a classic way of informing the listener "something is wrong." Then that crystalline sound in the back beat that comes in again stronger in the first bridge just shouts "mirror world" and I love it!

The rest of it is just good, classic dueling music. Honestly, even though I teased the sound of it in the beginning, I really do like it. Meta Knight’s battle music is all “masked” whereas Dark Meta Knight, once revealed, is all in-your-face. The beat is almost aggressive and even the crystalline mirror sounds, normally providing an otherworldly or softening vibe in other songs, feel like being stabbed with a shard of glass here! DMK is a bit of a stabby one.

Also, this song is my favorite part of the 30th anniversary knight medley.

[Dark Mind]

HECK YEAH DARK MIND!!!! So, Dark Mind is probably the mirror parallel of Dark Matter, somehow? ("mind over matter" as another clever user figured out) but having a human face aside, there's a lot of parallels with Nightmare from Adventure too, including them both having an unfairly good bop!

Unlike some of the other great last boss songs up till now, it doesn't tell us a darn thing about the Eye of Sauron...Err, I mean...the giant flaming eyeball. Then again, we know so little about the Mirror World and Dark Mind, maybe it will turn out to be super informative down the line?

Regardless, the emotional emptiness of the song almost doesn’t matter it's so good! Though I do like that you can hear a similar...uh, BRRRRRING sound here to BWWAWINNG sound in Dark Meta Knight's theme, telling you they worked together. A musical call and response! Not much more depth than that. But what a strong note to end on!

...Oh...Right. It doesn't end there...

[Dark Mind - “Fighting Dark Mind in the Sky”]

Annnnd it is followed up with one that just isn't as good. Or at least, not as catchy. (It's even longer too, damn you.) Okay, okay. I don’t mean to be unfair. Perhaps there's stuff going on here I'm missing. Song callbacks that serve to explain the mystery of Dark Mind and the mirror dimension.

Maybe it’s beautifully timed. Excellent key changes. Great instrumentation? There is some cool techno-sounding stuff going on here, it’s true!

But to me, this song just feels a bit...hrgh... Look, it's not bad, really! I just don’t love it as much coming after Dark Mind's phase two! To be frank, It's the opening I really don’t like. I don't have full on synesthesia, at least not to a strong degree, but that opening bit tastes like a burnt meal to me... It just makes it hard to pay attention to what’s going on in the rest of the song.

Kirby Canvas Curse

[Drawcia Sorceress]

With all the times I've complained about discordant elements in these songs causing them to lose me, is it weird that I completely LOVE DRAWCIA'S THEME?! Well, for one thing, opening up with that strong gothic-horror, pipe organs and abandoned church vibes is SO good, even on the DS's not great sound. Coming off of the incredibly creepy “World of Drawcia” stage, it’s emotionally the right choice. (Now if only you fought her in a ruined church or something. Like the opening boss fight of Ender Lillies...)

But I'm glad that we finally get a gothic horror-y Kirby last boss track. To start with. But the main thing, and this is one of the reasons I love Drawcia so much is that she also goes straight for the "character interpretation via boss music" that you'd only really seen much of in Marx and 02 (and Dedede, a little) till now! And she's from a spinoff game! This is because being discordant is in Drawcia's nature! And the little, uh, how can I describe them except "pew pew" noises have this sense of slapping paint over a canvas (or hitting someone with a high pressure paintball gun) in the process of slowly painting over the word. Of course, Drawcia Sorceress is only one part of the package...

[Drawcia Soul]

Ahh, it’s back! There's that same "horrific reveal" note we first/last heard in Dark Matter's theme from DL2! Only this one has what I would describe as the audio equivalent of a VCR glitch. These two songs are excellent in show-not-tell horror. I mean, Drawcia Soul is a pretty creepy boss either way. One of the more creepy Soul bosses. Perhaps THE creepiest (....outside of Sectonia decapitating herself...) but the music is some jumpscare levels of horror! The fact that it drops low early on like it's whispering to you and then it has that section I can only describe as musical tinnitus. Alternatively, a SCREAM. And yet, it's not all distortion effects and jumpscares. There's a really good melody tucked away in there, that's swallowed up by that VCR effect again. A sign of the forgotten portrait's true nature, before it was corrupted, perhaps?

One of the least "listenable" songs in Kirby, but a really great one nontheless.

Kirby Squeak Squad

[Daroach - “Troubling Situation”]

Technically an all-rounder battle theme for the Squeaks in general, but it plays every time you fight Daroach too, so to the master thief, we bequeath this...wait, what's this?! He's already stolen the theme?! When did he-?!

Anyway, sad as it is to say, Squeak Squad's music is similar to the game itself. That is, it's not bad, but it gets outshined by the many truly sparkling entires before it. "Troubling Situation," which feels like an arrangement/variation/extrapolation on "Here Come the Squeaks" manages to carry the game's zany cartoon energy just fine. And a shoutout to the adorable squeaker chorus that's a consistent (but not annoying) presence in the background.

It works as a boss theme, but as my boss fight music review should have made clear by now, we're several entries past "very serviceable music." Really, Daroach...or Dark Daroach, at least, should have gotten his OWN theme. Daroach isn’t lacking for character, thanks to Mass Attack, but the (lack of) music in this game is not doing him any favors, when it could have elevated him even higher as a character. Alas, it's at the end of the journey that Squeak Squad always stumbles. Speaking of a lackluster end game... The Starfish...

[Dark Nebula]

Dark Nebula's theme opens strong, giving us these intergalactic vibes that let us believe we're onto something big and COSMIC! Considering this game takes us through the Gamble Galaxy and into space (rare, when our games have been rather Popstar focused for the last few entries) it’s a nice aural-gameplay tie-in treat! And while the sounds of the main melody come really close to sitting shoulder to shoulder with the best of their SNES work, they just fall flat somewhere? I feel like the music could punch up so much higher, but it doesn’t finish strong. That, to me, is the flaw here. There's that nice bit at the end of the loop, but even that seems to give up at the end like "Oh, wait! I've got something good going here and uh....wait, I think I lost it." Ahhhhh, I hate to rag on this theme or any Kirby theme, really, but it lacks follow-through...

Super Star Ultra

[Dyna Blade & Wham Bam Rock - “Battle with the Enormous Boss”]

As if Super Star wasn't packed with enough good songs on its own, they come back with some treats for the DS remake, including giving us this tune to elevate Dyna Blade and Wham Back Rock into fittingly chapter ending bosses!

Err, that said, nothing really amazing, here, and its shared between the bosses, so we can’t even say it gives us many character notes, but at least it's a solid song all the way through, with a nice note of heroism + the journey's end vibe.

Sometimes it's good to have a song without world-ending stakes or an undercurrent of sadness and misunderstanding!

Sometimes, you just want to beat up a giant rock...!

[Masked Dedede]

Just because I wasn't going to cover all the additional Dedede themes didn't mean I wouldn't cover any of them! And Dedede’s theme has grown so much, receiving a glow-up, becoming a more robust song to fit with the series going forward! There's more character in it, a few notes of, gasp, majesty injected into it in the beginning too before it breaks out into pure energy.

(There's also a bit of a battle arena feel to it, which helps characterize the self-proclaimed king that builds a wrestling ring in his castle just for whenever Kirby should arrive.) But, after years of loss, we also hear a strong determination worked into Masked Dedede theme! He’s lost plenty of times (...every time...) before, but he’s remaking himself! More powerful, more of a presence! It works well with his new, scary battle mask and rocket-booster (!?) hammer!

It’s honestly great that Dedede’s theme grows, because character growth is going to signify Dedede in the games to come! (Especially since he’ll be a playable hero shortly!) So this remix on the old theme is the place to see the way he’s becoming more important to the games going forward!

[Galacta Knight - “The Greatest Warrior in the Galaxy”]

What's this?! (Synthesized) electric guitars in my Kirby game?!

Err, and oh gosh, I hate to end this post like this, but I'm not a huge fan of Galacta Knight's theme, just as a piece to sit back and listen to, that is. It’s the pseudo-synethesia thing again. It’s a little...grungy-sounding? To me, Galacta Knight's song feels a bit like...

......kitchen mold.

I'm so sorry! It's not meant as an insult!

Anyway, that kickass opening riff aside, what I most want to point out about Galacta's theme is how DIFFERENT it is to everything we've had so far. Whether it's because Galacta is from a time forgotten (the age of rock and roll, clearly) or because the sealed warrior is just in a class no one can hope to touch, their theme stands alone as well! I'm glad for it!

We never have gotten much about Galacta’s character. Almost as if its being avoided on purpose, but you can definitely detect the same “character” in this music of the knight who turns around and destroys Star Dream the second they’ve been summoned. This song also has those same “masked” elements where so much is hidden behind the rapid beat that Meta Knight’s battle does.

It’s truly fitting for them...!

And that’s it for now. No, I didn’t forget Mass Attack, but due to release dates, I’m saving it for the inevitable part two...

..Wherein I talk obsessively about “CROWNED” and how amazing it is! A-and a bunch of other really good songs too....!

(That said, part two is not going to be up immediately after this, just due to general business/intensity of writing these. It will happen though!)

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