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bill-y · 3 years

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𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part two: Click here, bomburino tortilla pony horse.

Part three: You're here, my guy.

Part four: Click here, amigo

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

It didn't take long before I came home, my mother and brother was already dressed, and I was right, Kunal has been crying.

He immediately lightened up when he saw the bread, pushing the sleeves of my first reaping outfit (which was now his) back in order to munch on it.

"Don't worry, you only have your name once in the pile, you're safe," I reassured him, as I've done many times before.

I smiled, patting his head. My mother glanced at me, but I pretended to not notice. It's been long since we've talked, the last time was a disagreement, a petty one at that. About two years or so?

I honestly surpised myself, how can I go without talking to her for so long. . .?

Another trait my father passed on to me was a short temper, though I never lose my head and scream, but something about her words made me yell. Her face was full of shock when I did that, almost as if I've betrayed her.

"Don't be stupid like your father!" She told me.

My father isn't a stupid man, he was smart. Lady luck just wasn't on his side that day.

I took a bath, scrubbing the dirt and soot off myself. When I saw my clothing my heart stopped. It was my Father's.

It was simple, just as he liked. A white button up tunic, the hems made of elegant gold lace. The pants were loose, with garters securing on the hip and the hems, he never liked tight clothing, just like me.

My eyes went towards my mother, who simply nodded, "After you get dressed, sit down, won't you? Let me fix your hair," she said.

My mouth opened to protest, only to shut itself when she whispered a small, "please," My eyes softened, her voice sounded so guilty, she regretted her words, just as I did. She knew I could get chosen.

But I'm a coward, I don't like apologizing, something I inherited from her.

I nodded, and got dressed before I sat down, just as she told me. She began to braid tiny sections of my hair. I've never been good at it, really, It would always look messy when I did it. So I just looked messy everyday.

But her hands can do magic, it was like she was weaving silk, her hands full of grace and utmost care as she intertwined every strand of hair. I could feel her hand shake a little, as if scared with one wrong touch, I'd shatter like glass.

She used to sew clothing, make various artworks with whatever was in the house. Her hand was naturally delicate, soft to anything she makes contact with.

I bit my lip, none of us wanted to say it. We we're both thinking the same thing, though.

I never really liked cutting my hair, always kept it atleast neck length at best. I don't think short hair suits me at all, though it does get in the way while hunting from time to time.

Once she finished, without a word she pressed her chapped lips onto my forehead, she then walked away, leaving me with a pit of guilt in my stomach.

Such simple words, why can't I just say it?

I sighed, fixing my tunic and tucking it in, the garter snapping back, making me wince a little. It was stupid of me to let go.

I took a deep breath in, mustering all the courage I had to walk towards my brother, who has devoured the entire loaf. "Good?" I asked.

He nodded, a smile on his face, the crumbs falling down. I chuckled, wiping his mouth with my hand.

"You're like a bird, aren't you, little mocking jay?" I said, patting his head again.

He hummed, nodding aggressively, his hair bouncing up and down. I snickered, holding his head still with both my hands. I squished his cheeks together, making his lips form into a duck beak-shape. "Hey, Y/n,"

I rose my brows, humming. "I won't get chosen, won't I?" he asked. I sniffed, shaking my head as I linked our foreheads. "No, no you wont, Nal," I said. "If they call you, I won't let you go, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Of course,"

Soon it hit one in the afternoon, it was mandatory to attend this "festival", unless you're at death's door, that is. I found myself beside Gale, who patted my shoulder for reassurance.

Maybe it was obvious I'm stressed, tense. I'm not worried about myself, I'm more worried of them, especially Kunal. He's only twelve, yet he can still get chosen.

Some kind of festival this is.

I clenched my fists tighter, palms started to go white as I also clenched my jaw.

On the temporary stage stationed in front of the justice building was a podium, three chairs and two large bowls. The district is divided into two sections, jumbled across those two glass bowls, waiting to be picked up.

Twenty of them contained 'Y/n Greyback', one of them contained 'Kunal Greyback'.

There were also bright banners hung up, though I'm sure it was just there to taunt us, it sure worked for me. Everytime I look at it I start feel sick, hatred bubbling in my stomach.

The feeling of claustrophobia began to settle in as people piled into the square, the late comers having to just watch from a monitor instead.

"You alright?" Gale asked, nudging me. I gulped, sighing, "Course, I just —" I turned back, looking at my brother. "Worry of him,"

He gave me a sympathetic look, "He only has one entry, I'm sure he won't be picked," He said. Something I've been saying for such a long time, it didn't help settle my nerves.

"I know," I answered plainly.

We looked towards Katniss' place, beside her was Mardge, who gave me a curt smile and a wave. Out of politeness, I simply nodded back before turning back to the stage.

My hands grew colder each second, by two, when the mayor finally reached the stage, my hands were as cold as a corpse's.

Beside the mayor was Effie Trinket, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. It looked quite ghastly.

Everyone murmured in worry, for whom was the empty third seat for?

The mayor stepped in front of the podium, beginning to tell the tale of Panem, how the twelve districts lost in the rebellion and now have to face punishment.

The Hunger games.

It was simple, each district would pick two "tributes" to this little game, and then they either kill like a hungry wolf or die like lost cattle.

I gulped, sweat forming on my forehead as I instinctively reached for the end of Gale's shirt. He held my hand, patting it a few times to let me know it would be alright.

He then began to read the victors in every hunger games. In the past seventy-four years, we have had exactly two.

Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair.

To say he's drunk would be an understatement.

The crowd responds with its token applause, but he’s confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, she began to talk. I could feel my blood boiling upon hearing her obnoxious, Capitol accent. I tuned her out, gulping as my hands somehow grew even colder.

Please don't let it be my brother, anyone but him.

"Let's have the first pick, shall we?" She said, her voice at the end of the sentence practically sky rocketing up. She pulled a piece of paper from one of the Glass bowls.

My heart pounded, as if trying to escape my chest. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths in.

"Kunal Greyback,"

My heart stopped. Why couldn't it have been me? I had twenty, TWENTY entries.

I watched as my brother walked past me, his lip quivering, eyes glossy. Oh sweet, sweet Kunal, as delicate as a Lotus.

Kunal, the boy who gathers flowers every morning just for me.

Kunal, the boy who loves pulling on my braids.

Kunal, my dear innocent brother. Afraid of his own shadow.

I felt my own body move, launching myself forward. Gale called for my name, but I didn't care, no. I needed to get to my brother, I made a promise.

"NAL! NAL! NO!" I yelled, desperation evident in my voice as I pushed through the other people. "Y/n!" He screamed back.

Most of then gave me and my brother looks of sympathy, some gossiped. "Greyback," they'd whisper. "Another one bites the dust," they'd continue.

The peace keepers pushed me back, preventing me from reaching my brother.

No, not like this. He's still so young, he still wants to gather lilys by the front of our house, he still wants to create flower crowns for me to wear.

He still wants to breath, to live.

The mayor looked at me, recignizing me almost immediately. He didn't know me, no. Rather, he knew my father, the man he put under the execution block.

Oh mother, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It seems another one of your family members will die at the hands of the Capitol.

"I volunteer!" I gasped, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry.

"I volunteer as a tribute!"

Word count: 1.6k

Tags:

@nin3s

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peetamellark #male x male reader #x male reader #male reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #hunger games ff #hunger games #katniss everdeen #gale hawthorne #peeta mellark #why are tags so difficult to fucking write #hello person looking at tags you should really get other hobbies #male reader insert #reader insert #long read #male reader series

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smithc3k · 6 years

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What Scum Fuck Flower Boy means to me.

The first time I ever heard of Tyler the creator I was in class id always while in computer class read articles or interviews for different artist or reviews when I stumbled on Tyler the creators 2nd album goblin. It was brash dark and energetic all the beats were made by him the artwork was designed by him even the music videos directed by him. His music while at times dark and offensive in subject matter had tone but had felt like a breath of fresh air the album itself in which Tyler bookends moments and songs throughout the album as a conversation with his therapist on the stress of living up to expectations coping with an absent father self hate and anxiety of trying to provide for his mother as an up and coming artist ultimately culminating him having a character breakdown and screaming I’M NOT CRAZY I’M A FUCKING TABLE.

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Thats the first time i ever saw him live it was like someone took the punk spirit of jay reatard and channeled it into a hip hop album.

One of the criticisms levied against Tyler's persona and music was that it was immature or that at first glance there is no depth to it. Well one trip to summer camp and a cherry bomb later we arrive at Scum Fuck Flower Boy what I consider to easily be his best work yet and my second favorite album to come out of the odd future collective (right behind channel orange of course but that's another story for another time). The mixing is smoother the production seems exciting and visceral with a mix of smooth jazz down tempo electronica and soft piano among other things. Lyrically its his most somber and mature album to date tackling themes of self perception anxiety sexual curiosity and most prominently mentioned and explored on this album is materialism used as a coping mechanism or to fill a void which becomes very apparent from the albums opener ‘Foreword” where the first lines rapped on the album is this.

How many cars can I buy 'til I run out of drive? How much drive can I have 'til I run out of road? How much road can they pave 'til I run out of land? How much land can there be until I run in the ocean?

We then come the song “Who Dat Boy” where him and ASAP ROCKY brag about money from there many business ventures outside of hip hop.

Get out of my way, way, boy that's McLaren That's 0 to 60 in 2 point nueve, I'm gone

He also explores all the mental road blocks and potholes which on the song “Potholes” he says this.

"My mother warned me that some niggas ain't my right hand To trust her, only my heart and that elder white man His name is Clancy, I fancy him, gotta give him props He half the reason why dealerships even let me cop”

After that we get to “Garden Shed” tack seven off of Flower Boy which i think its the 3rd most vulnerable Tyler is as on this part of the car ride he’s expressing how difficult it is to express his sexuality.

All my friends lost They couldn't read the signs I didn't wanna talk and tell 'em my location And they ain't wanna walk Truth is, since a youth kid, thought it was a phase Thought it'd be like the phrase; "poof," gone But, it's still goin' on

(Tyler on garden Shed)

After that were followed up with boredom a song about finding some time to do somethings. After which we hop back in the car for “I Aint Got Time” which is more braggadocios rhymes similar to “Who Dat Boy” in themes while bragging about the car which drives him to these emotional states.

We then get to the most vulnerable Tyler has ever made himself on an album with 911/ MR Lonely

Five car garage Full tank of the gas But that don't mean nothing, nothing Nothin', nothin', without you shotgun in the passenger

On part one (911) Tyler says that all the Material things hes collected don’t matter as he has no one to share them with.That statement is then doubled down on in part 2 off the song Mr Lonely

Crashed the McLaren, bought me a Tesla I know you sick of me talkin' 'bout cars (skrrt) But what the fuck else do you want from me? That is the only thing keepin' me company Purchase some things until I'm annoyed These items is fillin' the void Been fillin' it for so long I don't even know if it's shit I enjoy (ohh) Current battle as an adult My partner is a shadow

Following that we get a minute interlude of lil Wayne rapping in incredible form (come home weezy i miss you) our next stop on our ride is “November’ which is my favorite song on the album. On this song all of the anxiety and stress just pours out while hes wishing to go back to to simpler time IE his “November” while asking all his Friends what their November was. (mine was when I flew down to arizona for 2 weeks that was the most happiest and at peace I’ve ever felt in my life.)

What if my music too weird for the masses? And I'm only known for tweets more than beats or All my day ones turn to three, fours 'cause of track seven

The 2nd half of the song is Tyler calling up a distant friend to play them a song he made the voice mail picks up the call and the song “Glitter” which is the final track is fitting love song to end the album on.

We didn't get your message, either because you were not speaking or because of a bad connection Fuck

and thats how the album ends the alot more subtle than goblin and just a “fuck” and we go to the last track which is an instrumental called Enjoy Today Right Now. The album ends with Tyler turning off the car and that’s it car ride is over.And thus concludes Scum Fuck Flower Boy an amazing hip hop album that uses the medium to fully explore why an artist has a 12 car garage but they only got six cars in a relatable and human way over dope ass instrumentation.

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Editors note

Furi will not be looked at for a while as right now I’ve lost all interest in playing it. The next game I’m gonna be playing is Transformers Devastation if that takes to long to get done in a week ill do another one of these depending on the response to this as always have a great day.

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