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targaryenluvs · 6 months

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OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray x fem!reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #dark!lucy gray x reader #dark!lucy gray baird x reader #hunger games x reader

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kitscutie · 6 months

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snow and roses: part III (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: part three is finally hereee! sorry it took so long i've been dealing with some shit and doing a lot of work as life's just gotten very busy but don't worry - nothing will be left undone and trust me when i say i already have the ending for this series planned out :)

im sorry to say guys but i will have to close my taglist as the size has began to affect my posts and tumblr keeps glitching out, sorry!

word count:2k

find parts one and two in my masterlist!

After the incident the previous day between Brandy and Arachne as well as the suggestions from Coriolanus taken on board, the mentors had been allowed one hour with their tributes to discuss tactics.

It was good yet bad all at once. You wanted to give Wovey advice, a fighting chance but yet you knew no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much help you gave her, she stood no chance compared to people like Reaper and even Lucy Gray.

She was small and innocent, young.

"In spite of yesterdays - tragic events, our president has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror, to which I and Doctor Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon - with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a specialised television presentation of each tribute to our audience to, well get to know them. You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin." Dean Casca Highbottom spoke into the echoey room, so large it was almost comical.

All of the tributes had been chained to the tables like animals and it made you sick to your stomach. You were aware they may harm you but at the same time such treatment would drive anyone to violence, it wasn't simply because they were District.

"Hi Y/N." Wovey smiled, so innocent. So naive.

"Wovey. I was thinking about how you might approach the games and I figured what might be best is to hide. You're small, an advantage that the other tributes don't have. I'm sure we can find some spaces this afternoon that might prove useful?" You suggested, not wishing to make this conversation more painful and personal than it had to be.

"Sure." She murmured, gaze positioned on the chains around her wrists.

"And if you wait until it's dark and everyone is sleeping you could go to the middle - collect whatever weapons they have left, just in case but otherwise I recommend waiting it out. If they can't find you they can't kill you." The sentence left a bitter taste in your mouth, you had never pictured yourself recommending a child to wait her death out in your life. The Capitol Academy was sold to you with visions of wealth and power, and now you has gone from student to mentor.

"I don't want to kill anyone." She frowned. She didn't even care that she could die, only fearing harming others. You felt your heart ache and yet, you could do nothing. No words would be good enough to reassure her, no actions would be able to save her. For once, you were useless.

"Wovey-" You began your sympathetic speech though Casca cut you off.

"Snow, Y/N. Let's go." He said as peacekeepers arrived to escort you to Doctor Gaul.

You rose without another word to Wovey, aware nothing you could say would be of any help at this time.

You knew it was about Coryo's proposal which you had not helped in and yet you weren't too upset about it. You didn't need the Plinth Prize nor did you need Doctor Gauls' approval and so you set out to let her know of your lack of involvement in this task.

"How is your tribute?" Coriolanus asked after minutes of silence.

"Her name is Wovey and she's fine. A little frightened but aren't we all?" You said, you were hesitant to tell him too much of Wovey's weaknesses and you didn't know why. This was Coriolanus. Your best friend of over ten years and your boyfriend of a few months and yet, you had a feeling whatever you said would be used against you.

"I suppose." He answered. You supposed his tone was meant to come off charmingly but all you felt was unease.

"This proposal. I haven't done it." You let him know, it was the least you could do before facing the psychopath known as Head Gamemaker.

"We have. I handed it in this morning." He answered with a hint of pride. Impressed with himself that he had taken initiative, helped you.

"I thought I made it clear the other day that I wanted no part in this plan to profit off of peoples lives, Coriolanus." You muttered, increasingly angry with his dedication to the Games and what they stood for.

"Well if you want to help Wovey, I suggest you don't tell Doctor Gaul that." He smiled, holding the door to her office open for you in a feign attempt at being a gentlemen.

As you walked into her office you couldn't help but feel disgusted. It was littered with mutants, clearly created to kill, all sat in glass jars on shelf upon shelf. Stacked all the way up to the ceiling.

"Mr Snow, Miss L/N. Come and see my new babies." Gaul said as she appeared at the back of the room. Where she had been hidden, you had no clue.

You did as she said, never one to disobey your superiors, climbing the snake tank alongside her.

"Is there a point to their colour?" You asked curiously. The snakes were surprisingly beautiful, chromatic as they shifted around on top of one another.

"There's a point to everything Miss L/N. Or to nothing at all, which brings me neatly to your proposal. Which one of you actually wrote it." She asked, as if to catch you out but you felt no remorse in admitting it wasn't you.

"Coriolanus, Doctor." You answer, sensing Coriolanus' hesitation in baiting you out.

"Well, how shocking. I expected more of a conflict." She replied, as though she were annoyed by your honesty as she reached into the snake tank, pulling Coriolanus' proposal out. "They're good your suggestions. I'm going to recommend my team implement as many as possible for tomorrow. Now run along you have an arena to promote, and Miss L/N I must say - I am most disappointed by your lack of involvement in these brilliant ideas."

"Well thank you, Doctor Gaul for your offer but, I thought Mr Snow had it safely under his control." You smiled politely before you both left to 'promote' but more so survey the new arena. "Wait." You said stopping Coriolanus before you got into the truck. "I don't know what has become of you Coriolanus Snow, but I want the little boy who fought to provide for his family while also caring for others back. You are turning into one of them, and I'm not going to be there to watch the world burn beneath your feet." You spat, leaving him to think as you sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

It seemed Coriolanus felt spiteful towards your words as he too ignored you up until this very moment as you walked into the arena.

You smiled reassuringly down at Wovey who looked just so scared. You were only three years older than her and yet you felt a motherly protection towards her, one you couldn't shake off.

Infront of you was Coryo and Lucy Gray. At first you pitied the girl, coming from twelve must be hard as they were food deprived and worked to the bone and yet now, as she stood holding your boyfriends hand in her beautiful rainbow dress, you loathed everything about her.

Your eyes rolled as far back as they physically could, your disgust clear to anyone looking but only one person was. Sejanus. He looked at you with pity and for once, you appreciated it. You decided he must know about you and Coriolanus and seeing as nobody else did they all whispered about him and Lucy Gray, how sweet they seemed.

You walked around alone before he appeared at your side.

"You deserve better, Y/N." Sejanus said, eyes never meeting your own as you continued to survey the arena, never even noticing his eyes stuck on his watch.

"Debatable." You chuckled, feeling a sense of self responsibility for getting with a man as dangerous as Coriolanus Snow in the first place.

"I wouldn't worry. If there's anything I've learnt about Coryo it's that he likes shiny things, new things - and she's definitely a spectacle." he chuckled to himself, it was safe to say Lucy Gray's ability to impress a crowd hadn't been missed by anyone.

"He'll grow tired eventually. I was his precious rose once." You sighed as the reality of the situation finally settled in.

You soaked in the silence for a few moments before you realised Sejanus' lack of response, turning in annoyance to see his eyes following the hand of his watch clock closely as he mouthed a countdown of the minutes.

"What are you-" You began.

"We've got to go." He said, grabbing your arm and beginning to walk towards the exit cautiously, not catching the attention of any guards.

"What do you mean? Sejanus?" You asked as he would not slow, not for anything. You looked around, seeing everyone else still stood stationary as they calmly conversed.

"Just follow me, Y/N." He said, still attempting to stay calm but you noticed his wide eyes.

You walked in silence, your heartbeat getting louder in your ear with each step until you hearing went completely silent, vision going black as both you and Sejanus were thrown to the floor in a cloud of smoke.

It took a few moments for you to be brought back to reality as you sat up, dazed hearing the yells of people around you. Once again before you could even figure out what was happening Sejanus' grabbed you, pulling you to your feet as you ran out of the door. 'Enjoy the show' now sounding muffled.

"What about Coryo?" You cried out in desperation, no matter what he put you through he was your first love and you had always pictured him to be your last.

"If we go back now, Y/N, we'll die." Sejanus replied as he continued dragging you until you reached the fresh air outside. Your charred lungs welcoming it.

As you looked back through the doorway you saw nothing, no one. Simply black smoke. You felt guilty and yet still - deep down - your heart yearned for the death of Lucy Gray.

It had been five hours now, sat around Coriolanus' bed alongside Sejanus and Tigris.

He hadn't so much as twitched and it had your heart racing with panic, if he died, you knew a part of you died with him.

Tigris comforted you as best she could in her own worry, noting how his chest continued to move up and down steadily and that the doctor only mentioned an injured arm, not that he was at risk of death.

The appearance of bright blue eyes caught everyone's attention as you rushed to be by his bed.

"Coryo." You said, a large smile on your face. You watched as his eyes flickered around in confusion, landing on you for a few moments. You don't know what you expected, a look of love? What you most definitely didn't expect was one of disgust.

"Lucy Gray, is she-" He stated, looking to Tigris for an answer.

"She's alive." Tigris responded through gritted teeth as she looked to you with sympathetic eyes. Her reply was lost to you as the ringing in your ears after the explosion returned. Your heart beating loud in your chest. You placed a hand over it, feeling it pound against your palm.

Your eyes glazed over as you walked away into a secluded corner, waving Sejanus off as he attempted to follow you.

It felt now more than ever so official, so real without a doubt. You had lost Coriolanus Snow. He no longer loved you, cared for you or even worried for you.

The cage that was his heart had opened wide, setting you free and instead capturing something new and desirable. A songbird.

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#coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger game fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg fic #thg fanfiction

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inawearyworld · 5 months

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free if you truly wish to be: chapter iii

plots are half revealed, and willy "mr accidentally steal yo girl" wonka gets his sorry ass saved by a woman wearing one of those "oh no my husband mysteriously floated away died" robes you see all over pinterest. (now there's a sentence i never thought i'd write.)

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

i would like to thank mr mathew baynton in that one bts interview for those bits and pieces of fickelgruber analysis that will totally now be used here. and also for being generally wonderful. thanks mat ilysm

also i thought it would be sort of funny for at least someone in this world revolving around chocolate to be lactose intolerant and then of course i had to turn it into something sad and poetic bc of Who I Am As A Person

enjoy!! and thank you for all the support on this fic so far!!

part two fic masterlist part four

She had a lot to think about that night.

Felix hadn’t returned home yet, and she started to worry that the fateful flying chocolates weren’t quite as harmless as advertised. The young man who’d made them, too, was swirling about her mind in a haze of schoolgirl blushes and piercing guilt.

Florence Fickelgruber had chosen her lot when she agreed to take on that name. Who was she to imagine a freer life, one of candy-coated dreams and a clear conscience, of gazes and banter with someone her own age, of running her hand through curls that weren’t slick with expensive gel? Who was she to foolishly wish for anything different, when so many people were counting on her?

She missed her home, her family, and it hadn’t been lost on her that Felix had never told her about his own background. Their wedding was attended mainly by those surrounding the Fickelgruber business, as well as another flood of press. She’d had to blink so much that day, unused to being in front of cameras after a youth spent on the stage, but her new husband had preened next to her as if this focus on appearance was where he felt most at home. She remembered the crowd’s polite cheers fading in her mind as he had slowly lifted her chin while she accepted a forkful of the most extraordinarily decadent chocolate cake.

For that day, she had allowed the feeling of his hand on her face to eclipse that of the too-rich frosting stuck in her throat.

Then he came through the door, humming a jaunty tune, and she blinked, torn out of the memory that she felt an entirely different kind of guilt for indulging in.

“Felix? Darling, where have you been?”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty auburn head, my songbird. The boy’s finished, absolutely finished. No one will be flying about the Galeries Gourmet if the police have anything to say about it.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“He’s disturbed the peace, made a commotion, even encouraged the-the-the unfortunate to disgrace our sacred sanctuary of chocolate. And the Chief is none too happy about it.”

“Is he?” she said suspiciously, stepping in front of him-because, up until this point, he hadn’t looked her in the eye.

Felix was silent for a moment, cacao eyes darting. His wife’s gaze was strong and unyielding-don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it-but her head tilted innocently to the side, a sort of plausible deniability.

A sort of protection.

“Yes,” he breathed with a curt nod, and took her hands in his. “I promise you, it was a solemn thing.”

“Then what were you singing as you came in?”

The chocolatier blinked again, falling into an absolutely done sort of expression, and Florence’s head tilted to the other side.

“You’ve had another musical number without me.”

“I’m terribly sorry, pet.”

“You know you can’t hide from me, Felix,” she said, something that would have been playfully teasing but held an edge of desperation that he refused to pick up on.

“It of course wasn’t the same without you,” he drawled in that ever-dramatic way, bringing her into their living room. “We’ll make it up now. Dance with me, Florence.”

He snapped his fingers, and some unseen yet attentive servant placed a needle on a record. A crooning melody started to crackle and bounce across the high golden ceilings, and Felix spun his wife into him, twirling her about with a smirk that she could only imagine to be the result of a monopoly saved.

She swayed to and fro in his arms, trying desperately to sink into the music, unable to focus on anything but the wrenching pull of her battling guilts.

Florence spent much of the next day in a state of ping-ponging worry. She’d looked intently out of the mansion’s sprawling windows over the town square, wondering whether her forbidden new friend had taken her advice.

“Just…don’t give up.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

And who knows what they’ll do to him now?

The hours had passed in a blur, and then she was laid limp, unable to sleep, and mentally exhausted, next to her husband and his piccolo snore.

She had screwed her eyes shut and burrowed into him, trying to force herself to feel as secure as she did two years ago; then, the slight sound of a little girl’s singing voice lifted itself into her consciousness, followed by the blare of a police car.

Puzzled, Florence carefully got out of bed and went to the window once more. The girl she’d heard was the one with the sweet smile that she’d seen in the Galeria yesterday, and Willy Wonka was next to her, warning her to run. The Chief of Police and Officer Affable faced them, but this wasn’t to last-the former seemed to tell the latter to leave, and the latter obeyed.

It wasn’t as if a switch flipped at that moment.

More like…

An extinguished candle was finally relit.

Before she could overthink herself into inaction, Wren was grabbing her robe and slippers and bolting downstairs, the snore that echoed after her serving as reassurance that she wouldn’t be found out. In her haste, she had the passing realization that this would be the first time she’d leave the house with her hair down and uncoiffed in over two years.

Through this rush, she heard the plunge of something in the town square’s fountain along with the shouts of the Chief, and she ran faster, throwing open the door just in time to see him about to club a drenched Willy over the head.

“OFFICER!”

Both men turned to her in an instant. She let out the breath she’d been holding since first hearing the girl’s voice, rolled her shoulders back, dropped into the character she’d played for the past two years, and stepped forward.

“What on earth is going on?”

They stared, each with a different kind of shock, as she walked toward the fountain. The Chief returned his nightstick to its holster.

“Mrs. Fickelgruber,” he stammered, “I thought you would have thought-well, I guess he didn’t tell-you aren’t-”

“No, I’m not thrilled about you clobbering this poor young man in the middle of the night,” she said, placing a hand on Willy’s shoulder. He looked at her, still touched with the fear of the past minutes but now grateful, and she tried not to be struck by the freckles she saw behind his water-plastered curls.

“Who said anything about clobbering?” the Chief laughed somewhat nervously. “We were just having a chat. An impactful, memorable chat. Right, Mr. Wonka?”

Willy dragged his eyes to him and held them there, a bit speechless.

What was probably three seconds but felt like an eternity of strange silence passed.

“Memorable indeed.”

“Right, then,” the Chief said. “You’ll do good to continue to remember it. Goodnight, Mrs. Fickelgruber.”

With that, he entered his car and drove away, his tail lights fading in the distance as the remaining pair stood, a little shell-shocked, her hand still on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, his gaze still trailing the receding police car.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, giving his shoulder an awkward pat, which made her realize just how cold he was due to the impromptu fountain bath. “Oh, God, you’re freezing. Let me…”

As he turned towards her, she looked up, trying to see through her window in the dark. She could barely make out the shape of a sound-asleep Felix, still in bed.

“Come to the office, I’ve got the key. There’s a fireplace there; you can stay as long as you need to to warm up.”

“Are you sure?”

His eyes moved up the same way, then back to her, and she shook her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course.”

“Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea? Hot chocolate?”

She hadn’t turned on most of the lights so as not to draw attention, but she’d started a beautiful fire, which Willy sat by in a plush emerald-green chair. She’d rattled off the drinks on habit, but she turned to him upon saying the third, sharing his smile.

“The last one, please. But I’ll make it.”

“No, you need to rest-”

“I insist,” he said, moving to join her by the small bar in the office and searching through ingredients. “Unless that’s some sort of corporate sacrilege.”

“Making chocolate in enemy territory?”

He took a small jar of powder from his sleeve and shook it into two mugs, considering this, and his smile faltered a bit.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked. “That they’d…that they’d send the police after me? That business rivalry is thought of like a war?”

She pursed her lips and nodded solemnly.

“They…feel threatened,” she said slowly, “and, despite how professional they seem, they can’t be mature or rational about it. Apparently, you really do have the best chocolate in town.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, but gave half of a smile as he looked down at the drinks he was stirring.

“And I, for one, am quite looking forward to trying it.”

“Here, then,” he said, pulling something out of a coat pocket that had managed to escape the frozen flush. “Nothing too dangerous about this one. Just some good old Wonka magic.”

He opened his hand to her, revealing a small, wrapped treat, and she sighed.

“I’d love to, but I really shouldn’t. Not even the drinks.”

“Why not?” came the stunned reply, and she nearly laughed at just how sweetly scandalized the boy seemed to be at the idea of anyone denying themselves that pleasure.

“Milk has never really…agreed with me. Bad for the throat, and I’m a singer besides, as you know-I mean, I-well, it’s just…”

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER.

“I shouldn’t.”

He took a moment, and she watched his eyes widen as he processed the shocking injustice of being genetically predisposed against chocolate.

“Does your husband know about this?”

“He does, but he doesn’t care. Says I’ll ‘grow out of it with time’, which I haven’t.”

“So he’s…”

“Essentially poisoning me, yes.”

They laughed a little, because, surrounded by echoes of Fickelgruber’s power, it was the only thing they could do.

Willy stared at the table for a moment, then pulled another vial, this one containing a liquid, from yet another pocket.

“Lucky for you, then, I’ve got milk made from the product of the finest almond trees on the islands of Seychelles,” he said as he deftly poured the liquid into her glass. “Guaranteed to go down sweetly, both on the taste buds and after.”

“...Thank you,” she murmured, touched by the gesture.

With a final flick of the wrist, he deemed the hot chocolate finished, and they each carried their mug to the fire.

“Wren,” he said thoughtfully as they sat down.

“Hm?”

She was instinctively flooded with warmth in the same way she was yesterday, though whether it was due to the stunningly perfect cocoa or hearing her name in his voice she wasn’t sure.

“Is it a nickname? Songbird, right?”

She saw in the fireglow that his face darkened a bit upon the memory of how Felix had always referred to her in the press, taking that potentially sweet title and spinning it in an almost dehumanizing manner. So someone did notice.

“Well…sort of. That was what my parents intended. They say a wren sang when I was born, so they gave me that name, and I loved it. But Felix assumed it was a nickname and suggested I should expand it; to sound more sophisticated in my performances, he said, but I knew half the reason was to fit with the alliteration. He’s always valued aesthetics above anything else.”

They were silent for a while, and the massive painting seemed to stare down at them, making the Fickelgrubers look almost menacing in the fireglow.

“That’s you?”

A moment passed.

“No. No, that’s not really me.”

Her voice was quiet, but decisive. Willy looked at her, really looked at her, and she felt more seen than she had in years.

“I want to help you,” she said.

“Hm?”

His head tilted to the side, a little stunned, and she nearly giggled as his now-drying curls flopped in front of his face.

How could anyone want to hurt him?

“I don’t know exactly what Felix and the rest have planned against you, but I know there’s something. He never really tells me anything, but I’ll…I’ll try to find out what I can, to distract him when needed. I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

“I’m not,” he said. “The others where I’m staying right now, we’re all in a rather precarious situation together, and I’ve got a few ideas, but…”

She watched the wheels turn in his mind, and after a few moments, he looked back up at her, for once lost for words.

“But thank you. Again. I’d…I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. For bringing some much-needed heart into this place.”

“I think you’ve done that rather well yourself.”

This was news to her often-guilt-wracked brain.

“...Really?”

“Well, of course. You clearly care, Wren…you’re kind, you’re poetic and talented, and far smarter than it seems they give you credit for. It’s in your eyes, too, I think. You can always tell the truth by a person’s eyes.”

Her heart had nearly stopped.

Somehow, though, she could tell that he was unaware of the full effect he had on her.

“Mr. Wonka-ah, Willy, I mean…”

“Forgive me if-I didn’t intend to-”

The clocks around the city chimed the hour, interrupting the two just as they had the day before, and the young man’s expression went from its dazed dawning to a startled realization.

“They’ll need me. Back where I’m staying, I mean.”

“Of-of course,” she said a bit awkwardly as they both stood up.

His hair had dried by now, falling in perfectly imperfect swoops around his face. He’d undone his necktie to keep its cold away from his neck, and his jacket was folded over his arm, and he was looking at her as if he hadn’t had a conversation quite like that with someone in a very, very long time.

And neither had I.

Or…ever, I suppose.

Until now.

“Thank you. Again.”

“You’re welcome. Again.”

She took a breath, let it out, and folded him into a hug, which he returned in an instant.

After two years of jutting angles and sharply possessive grasps, it was remarkable to simply, softly, hold and be held.

They bid a last goodnight before parting ways, and as she took her time walking back to the mansion, the moon seemed brighter than ever before.

#wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka #willy wonka #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader #mat baynton x reader #fiytwtb

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plantboiart · 3 months

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Hello. List of what animals I believe each just roll with it pc I know would be. I am objectively correct but if you disagree please tell me anyways I crave other people’s opinions to steal.

Riptide

Jay: a bird, obviously. Saying she’s a jaybird is easy and low hanging fruit and extremely valid. Personally I think she’s maybe a corvid since very smart but also absolute fucking menace. Honestly? Could be a seagull. Loud and lives near water and also smart but also? Absolutely insane. Yeah sure I could say she’s something cool like an eagle or whatever but I think in our hearts we all know she’s a seagull.

Gillion: of course he is a sea creature! But what kind? Fish. More specifically? Swordfish. Of course. What else could he be (he could be a shark but shhhh im saving that one for later)

Chip: the bastard man himself! Which animals are the biggest bastards? Raccoons. Yes I am basic. He’s either a raccoon or a little dog. I am specifically thinking my mom’s 11 year old small dog who yells at men and tries to pick a fight with every single dog that is larger than her. That’s some Chip energy right there.

Goobleck: bro who knows like what the hell is that thing i do not. Hes whatever he ate most recently. Bros fursona is just straight up slime. He is an enigma.

Prime defenders (+Ashe I don’t care that technically he was just a guest he deserves to be here)

William: ravens, black cats, bats, butterflies, snakes, crows. All associated with death which makes sense for our little ghost guy! But of course we can’t forget wolves! He has two wolves inside of him after all. But also? He is not cool enough to be a wolf. That man is a black cat with a dream and sharp sharp claws.

Vyncent: I think it would be funny to call him a rat. Since he eats them. And also he just kinda is a rat. But no, I believe he is a deer. Don’t really know why, just….. vibes.

Dakota: my beloved son. He’s a yappy little dog. Bouncing all over the place and screaming at evil-doers. I believe in him.

Ashe: strong cat energy. Is william already a cat? Yes. But so is ashe. He’s like a fully gray cat with short hair :)

Apotheosis

Rumi/Elena: fox! Because Sunny :) also because I can’t really think of an animal that would be a good representation for an identity crisis

Peter: “lizard” no. Peter Sqloint is a mouse. Just a lil guy. I’m right fuck you he. Is. A. Mouse.

Thanatos: spider! Kinda scary and lots of people dont like but in reality just an awesome dude. Shoutout to my friend’s pet spider Mörkö I love them

Blood in the bayou

Rolan: shark!!!! Im right and i need to say it. That man is a fucking shark. I love sharks. Sharks are generally misunderstood as violent and evil but they are just lil guys. Fits Rolan being an evil alien monster but just also a lawyer. (Also i just really like sharks)

Rand: y’all ever cry about pigeons? How we domesticated them and then abandoned them when we didnt need them anymore? How they dont even know how to make proper nests because they didnt need to for so long? Yeah. Im normal about this campaign.

Kian: he’s so hard to figure out because like…….. honestly? In canon? Weve got no fucking clue what his personality is actually like. We dont get a single moment with all the masks off and just the person underneath. The closest we get is him admitting that hes not really a rockstar and even that is so short and just. Auehgeh. This is why im obsessed with him btw i love a mystery i know will never be solved. Also so much room for headcanons. Is he a cat? A butterfly? A dog? A snake? A songbird? A dove? Something else? I dont know!! Lets go with a moth

The suckening

They are all cats. I mean c’mon. Emizel is a feral street cat that hisses at everyone who gets too close. Shilo is an indoor cat with an anxiety disorder. Arthur is their mother. Im correct.

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bewarethewolfarmy · 4 months

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St. Valentines Day

(THAT'S RIGHT MY BOYS AND GIRLS OF THE FANDOM: I'M BACK!

I just wrote this in the span of an hour and a half just for you, because it's Valentines Day and that means romance. I feel it's not my best work but I tried and I love Erik and I love you and so Happy Valentines Day my songbirds, here's our favorite pathetic man trying his best X3

Also yes i did notice people liked Music so i might be thinking on the sequel to it....)

Erik had never had a Valentine before though of course he was aware of the tradition and no insignificant part of him had not always dreamed of the day he could celebrate the day with someone precious to him. For a long while that someone had been Christine of course but disaster after disaster had rendered that impossible and his own self confidence issues stopped him from ever taking the plunge to even try to ask. He resigned himself then, as he resigned himself in many things, to an lonely unwanted existence and thus did his best to avoid going out even more on that day for the pain of seeing others in love and happy while he was alone and unwanted was far too much.

But then was you. Beautiful, wonderful, kind, loving you.

His heart fluttered with nervousness and uncertainty as he prepared; as with everything with you, he wanted everything perfect, he needed everything perfect. He made a bouquet of only the most perfect roses and had composed for you a love song that though incapable of expressing even a fraction of his bottomless devotion and love for you, he wished to believe could at least let you know he did love you dearly. A romantic dinner for the two of you, always just the two of you, was ready and before going up to the operahouse he made sure to put on his best suit and mask; this was his first Valentines day with you and absolutely nothing could be unseemly or less than beautiful. Well except for maybe himself but he could not change his face and he would simply live with the fact that your valentine this year would be a ghastly ghoul such as him. Still he knew you were kind and warm and loved Erik despite this.

The trip up was never so nervewracking for him and he felt his palms sweat as he went through his secret passages, snuck about the operahouse, listening as he went. Others were plotting for their Valentines day, choosing and sneaking off themselves for rendevouses of their own; some of the men even whispered of asking you, you of all people, and it took all Erik's self control to hold back from killing them. That would ruin your day and he couldn't possibly do that to you, he could never make his sweet songbird sad! But he did glare and silently growl at their audacity, as if they could possibly deserve a chance with someone as wonderous as you. Erik counted himself lucky, undeniably so, in that your smiles and words of love and affection were ever directed at him but they were absolutely not worthy of the same. To save you from being disappointed and upset with him he quickened his pace, as not to be tempted more by the wish to harm those fools who dared even speak your name.

You were, as always, waiting in your usual spot and his breath caught as he looked upon you. Aw you were radiant on any day to him but today was extra special. You noticed him as you always did and smiled, so warm to him he nearly burst into tears in that very moment. You always seemed to know when he was having one of Those Moments and thus chuckled lightly before reaching out and touching his cheek, “Oh Erik...”

He put his hand over yours, leaning into your touch with all the desperation and longing of a man dying of thirst in the desert finding water at last. You couldn't help but think how sweet and cute he was and want to kiss him, as you often wanted to kiss him. But to do so here would surely break the dam and you'd have a crying phantom on your hands, making it harder to hide. So instead you held back and spoke again, “Shall we go?”

He nodded enthusiastically, reminding you now of a puppy. Oh how sweet your Erik could be. He took your hand and lead you away, through passages you knew by heart, through the secret entrance to the lake that you'd gone through so many times, across the lake itself. He looked at you repeatedly and in his eyes was nervousness and shyness; it occurred to you that every time something big was happening, even just in his mind, he became as timid as a schoolboy with his first crush. You never could decide which you preferred: the confident Phantom or this sweet child in a man's body. It was likely you liked them both equally and just as much.

The sight of the roses that filled his living space made you smile and as he rushed to the organ to play for you, filling the air was that angelic music that only he seemed capable of creating, your heart soared and you felt that surely you were in paradise. You could see in all his preparations that he was diligent and devoted, that to him you were the most precious flower, the most beautiful thing. You could not help but twirl and dance as he played, wearing of course the dress he'd given you for your birthday; it seemed only right to do so today. You added words to his song, whatever came to mind, and his heart swelled too to hear you sing for him, his songbird, his beloved.

When the song was done he looked at you with expectation and you smiled at him again. “That was beautiful, Erik, thank you. I've never had such a wonderful gift for St. Valentines Day.”

The way his face lit up made you again wish to cup his face in your hands and kiss him with even just a fraction of the love you felt welling up when he looked so sweet. His heart swelled with delight and happiness and he himself could not help but move to go to you, unwilling to stay apart much longer, before kissing you himself. It was the kind of kiss that could only be had by those who loved each other dearly and it was so wonderful to you whenever he, your shy scared Erik, was willing to initiate.

You both hesitated to pull away but air was necessary even for a phantom and a songbird. But the love in both of your eyes seemed none the dimmer for the action; you giggled, delighted as always to see the way his face flushed whenever you kissed, then stepped away. A small whine escaped him but you reached out, plucking a rose from the massive collection, you suspected he stole every perfect rose in Paris just for you. Returning to him you slipped it into his suit and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “How lucky am I to have such a perfect angel as mine this St. Valentines.”

Oh there were the tears, they always came, and Erik clung to you, holding his precious songbird close. “Erik is no perfect angel, Erik wanted to kill those men who thought they could be close to Erik's songbird, Erik has killed and hurt people before. He's just lucky and blessed that such a wonderful, kind soul would want Erik and be willing to be his on a day such as this. Erik is so grateful, Erik loves his songbird so very much!”

You sighed fondly, lovingly. You reached up and stroked his hair, soothing him best you could. “You didn't kill them though and that's a good thing. I'm glad you didn't; it would make me sad but you knew that and you resisted. You're such a good man, Erik, you really are, and I'm the one whose thankful that I get to be loved and love such a wonderfully sweet person such as you. Now please dry those tears, this is supposed to be a happy romantic day. Let's dance and sing and enjoy each others company instead, hm?”

He sniffled and looked at you all teary eyed and in awe. Sometimes it could be overwhelming, how much he loved you, how much he adored you, but you loved him too, so very very much. You kissed his cheek then a light peck again upon his lips; he hesitated but he released you and with a sniffle he nodded. You were right of course, this was supposed to be a happy day and wouldn't it far better to enjoy it than to cry and feel miserable over how much he felt unworthy? You continued to smile at him and he managed to smile in return; you took his hand and tugged lightly and he led you to the dining room so that you could enjoy the feast he prepared for you two.

Erik was just so thankful that you, you were his Valentine.

#phantom of the opera #poto #erik destler x reader #erik destler #phantom x reader #erik x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #valentines day #pure unadulterated fluff

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gribbo · 7 months

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It's half-past ten, probably—no clocks in the inn, of course, and no light but the grim, guttering glimmer of the cleric's ward—and someone just outside Barcus Wroot's workshop is torturing a gittern. Again.

"Shoo," he says, cracking the door to glower out. "Just how you rabble expect me to work while you harp on is—ah." He blinks down at the heap of holey blankets hunched at his feet. "It's you."

The heap stirs. It's his minstrel bound for Moonrise, not one of the High Harper's noisemakers, who scowls up at him. "The mascot of your ill-fortune."

"Oh, enough." Barcus prods him gingerly with a foot. "Get up. You look like a pile of laundry."

There are, by Barcus's count, around threescore hopefuls stuffed in Last Light Inn—threescore and nine, now that his helpers have caught up. (He spots the druid and young what's-his-name, Wylbur Frontiers, speaking softly with the tieflings by the bar.) The floor is strewn with bedrolls and blanket-nests similar to the minstrel's own—and to Barcus's pallet beneath his makeshift worktable. The beds are for the wounded. Everyone else, from the children to the High Harper, finds a comfortable floorboard.

(As for meals—the less eaten of their dwindling stores, the better.)

The minstrel slouches inside, trailing blankets. Half his silly hair is shorn short, as if he'd hacked it off with his silly sword. Barcus shuts the door and stares at him. "Silk, what happened to you?"

"Shave and a haircut." The minstrel sprawls with a wince across Barcus's workbench, cradling his gittern like a child, and plucks two chilly notes: plink, plink, like icewater. "No questions, unless you want honest answers. I just sampled a vintage truth serum."

"Why the devil did you do that?"

Silk's brow creases. "The High Harper asked me to."

As if the answer is obvious, Barcus thinks. As if he'd have drunk poison at her behest. The look on the man's face—under blood and muck and gods-know-what—is queasily resolute.

And, Barcus notes with unease, he's sporting a new cloakpin: battered silver, wrought in the shape of a harp and crescent.

"Fiddlehead," he grumbles. He busies himself with trimming fuses, sweeping nails and iron scraps into neat piles; the quartermaster wants as many smokepowder bombs as he can make, as fast as he can make them. Around his neck, Wulbren's amulet hangs like a millstone. "When will it wear off?"

"By morning, I hope." Silk closes his eyes. "Or whatever marks morning in this miserable place. I'm to talk us into Moonrise, you see." He clears his throat with businesslike aplomb, as minstrels do. "Don't fancy blabbing all our plans to Ketheric Thorm."

That would put a wrench in things, Barcus thinks. The unease sharpens. He touches the hard, amulet-shaped lump in his shirt. "Get some sleep. You're no good to me and Wulbren shambling around like a"—he gestures to the other man, searching for an appropriate comparison, then waves a hand in defeat—"very tired troubadour."

This remark earns the grunt it deserves. Barcus forges on, as he does. "You and your friends, you do—you do still intend to save Wulbren, yes?"

Silk opens one eye. "Yes."

He says it in Gnim. It's so startling, so sweet, to hear their language in this place—like hearing a songbird in the Underdark—that Barcus doesn't bother him for five whole minutes.

But he wants, he admits to himself, one more honest answer. "Why?"

Silk gives him a sour look. He'd been mostly-asleep. "What?"

"Why"—he feels so small, asking, for all that he's the taller of the two—"why help me?"

"Well." A stern, embarrassed pause. "You asked me to."

Barcus blinks.

"Well," he says, and clears his throat, now: a small, flustered noise, like the squeak of a cog. "Well! That's—"

The amulet shifts under his shirt. He grasps for it instinctively, brushing past something else: his heart, under this hard, heavy thing. Ticking on. As it does.

He hasn't smiled much, of late. He doesn't smile now. But his mouth moves a bit, clockwise. "That's novel."

#sad for this guy. anyway #bg3 #microfic #barcus wroot #oc tag #silk

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green-typewriterz · 19 days

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hey there :) ! fun idea: cowboy/sheriff sam winchester in some southern town, maybe the reader could be a bandit and they repeatedly run into each other (maybe sam lets them get away at times, like it’s half rivalry half admiration) but there’s some creature around that forces them to work together ? fluffy end too bc I’m a sucker for riding into the sunset endings

Raise Hell

Cowboy!Sam Winchester x Bandit!Fem!reader

summary: 1800s AU - you’re a bandit, Sam’s what the Sheriff would call ‘a demon hunter’, they just happen to come by your camp

Warnings: injury, mentions of guns, demons, its the 1800s…so…, timeline may be weird, no specific season

Author Notes: this was much longer than I intended but enjoy. Also i know this is u H, i recognise your typing style

word count: 4046

You sighed as you walked past the third wanted poster with your face on it that morning, tearing it down while whispering a, “they never get my nose right.” To yourself. You continued on your journey, assuring yourself and your horse, Songbird, that there wasn’t that much longer to go.

After hours of travel, you set up camp a ways out of a town, staying in the shrouds of the shadows. You didn’t need any townsfolk spotting you and handing you in. You were sitting at the fire, eyes watching the skyline as the wood spit ash onto the floor by your feet, almost like a warning.

There would be a passerby every now and then, but no one important enough that you noted anything particular about them.

“Evening Ma’am.” A voice called, tone harsh and strong like the old folk singers. You looked up, but kept your hat low on your head, covering your face in the same deep blue of the sky.

Two men stood in front of you, broad shoulders and polite smiles. You knew who they were, of course you did. The Winchester name was well known across most of America, though you were never sure how much of it was legend. You decided not to take any chances. You nod to them silently, not sharing the same courtesy to smile back.

Sam spoke next, sounding a lot less irritated than his counterpart. “You wouldn’t mind if we rested with you for the evening would you? Our horses are tired and so are we.”

There was silence for a moment as you thought. You should say no - it was in your best interest to do so. But they hadn’t seemed to recognise you yet, and, with the bandanna you had quickly pulled over your mouth, they shouldn’t for the rest of the evening. You nodded once more.

Dean sighed at your silence but sat anyway, opposite the fire from you so he could try and see your face better - something you were trying your hardest to not let happen - while Sam went and hitched their horses next to yours.

”She’s beautiful.” Sam said to you, gesturing to your horse. Songbird was a full black shire horse with a large white strip along the nose. She was certainly flashier than was wise for a bandit, but you got her when you were young and you’d rather die than part with her.

You smiled and stood, heading over to the three horses. “She’s smart as hell, my best judge of character.” Sam laughed gently, looking over at you as he petted the blonde horse in front of him. You tried not to speak too much - though you weren’t sure how recognisable your voice was, you didn’t want to risk it. Sam stared at your hands, noticing how a large scar pulled its way along your palm - unusual in shape.

”Same with my Riot, he’s an Arabian so he’s pretty judgmental. Dean’s is the worst though, Baby’s so temperamental it’s almost impossible to get anything done” You smiled and looked over at the sleek black Hanoverian - you noted how well kept it was.

You both made your way back to the fire and sat, refastening the clasps of your boots to save you doing nothing.

The sun had fully set by now and night bit at the fire, causing it to settle into embers. Sam leaned against a tree, and you assumed he was sleeping while Dean sat opposite, his eyes still trained on you as if you would draw your gun.

It seemed as though he had planned to calm down when a series of cheers echoed across the valley. Both of you looked up, eyes sharp. You’d recognise the voices anywhere and you’d wager that the boys would too. Dean ran for his horse, not bothering to wait for his brother and rode after them.

You woke Sam quickly and headed for Songbird, apologising to her for the loud noises. The two of you rode after the older officer, but soon realised that you were being circled by the gang. You signalled to Sam to take a different route, but he was too focused on his brother and was quickly knocked off his horse by a bullet to his arm. You pulled to a stop and got out your pistol, Shooting at the bandits as they passed. They didn’t want you, nor Sam really - they just wanted to cause chaos.

Your shots rang as a warning and the gang cleared out, leaving you, two scared horses and a bleeding officer who would most likely arrest you given the chance. “Dean.” Sam called out but you silenced him, putting pressure on his arm.

”Shut it. You’re brother’s probably alive.” You spoke quickly, helping him to stand. Using a mix of his own strength and yours, he climbed onto the back of your horse and held his arm tight around your waist. You gripped the loose rein of Riot’s leash and headed back to your camp, quickly and quietly.

When you returned, you found your camp ransacked. Food was missing from your bags and small smoke clouds trailed from the now put out fire. They didn’t want you to find it again, which most likely meant they’d be returning for the rest. You’d have to be gone by the next evening.

Sam was pale and his eyes were fluttering every so often. You were warm and it was hard to breathe so with a sigh you pulled the bandana from your face and wrapped it around his arm, securing the wound and partially stopping the blood flow. Luckily, the bandits hadn’t had time to go into the packs in your tent and you smiled in relief when you pulled a large bottle of whisky from it. You poured some over the injury then took a large swig, wincing at the bite of the alcohol.

You’d let Sam sleep for now. He could get proper medical care when he returned to the sheriff's station, hopefully without you in handcuffs.

Sam was lucky in the sense that he got sleep that evening, something you weren’t so blessed with. Fatigue pulled at you and you found yourself playing with the remaining hot embers to stay awake - though they were dwindling by the minute. Eventually, Sam woke and sat up, his brows furrowing in confusion.

”Morning.” You said simply, sending a nod his way. He groaned in pain and turned to face you, good hand pushing his hair from his eyes. Now your bandana was off, Sam had a good chance to look at you.

His eyes narrowed, taking in your features. “I know you from somewhere.” He said gently, voice raw from pain and sleep. He wasn’t wrong.

1870

You were standing still behind a wall, one hand inching toward your pistol and the other holding money you were currently attempting to steal. It would’ve been an easy escape, you could’ve ran, called your horse and been clear of the town before anyone noticed but the new ‘specialist’ that had been travelling through Texas had to get in the way.

He tackled you to the ground, pulling the money from your hand and pinning you with minimal force. “Ow.” You said with annoyance, trying to move your hand so you could reach your blade that hid in your waistband.

The man’s gaze was stern as he kept you pinned against the hot sandy floor. “What are you doing?” He asked, voice harsh with suspicion. You sighed and turned your head to the side so you could actually breathe and rolled your eyes.

“Is it any of your business?”

“Ow.” He replied, mocking you. You stared at him, finding it unusual how a man of his profession had such long hair, which was cut into a small fringe and was falling slightly over his eyes. He eventually relents and allows you to stand, hand resting on his pistol as he places cuffs on your hands.

He took in your outfit, noticing how you wore dark denim and black leather, the only thing standing out was a red bandana. You certainly looked like a bandit.

You sighed and held up your hands, looking at the handcuffs in annoyance. “Seriously? You’re gonna cuff me? How are you so sure I’m a criminal?” You asked, voice bored - this had happened far too often to be entertaining at this point. He went to reply, when a deep voice yelled his name.

Sam.

He turned, breaking into a sprint and leaving you cuffed there. “You’re not gonna-” You began but sighed, realising he wasn't coming back and walked grumpily toward the abandoned blacksmith’s saw - not a good idea in retrospect, but it got you free.

1872

Sam walked idly into the sheriff’s office, hand reaching up to remove his Stetson when he saw you, sat in the gaol with your arms leaning on the bars. You were wearing a lighter shade now, mostly donning browns and blues, though the red bandana was still safely tied around your neck.

“You don’t seem very good at your job.” He said, smirking as he walked closer. You looked up at the man, sighing when you saw him. His hair had grown longer, sitting gently by his chin.

You leaned back in the seat and the cuffs on your feet clink, “I’ve been a bandit since ‘65…and I’ve been caught twice - though I’m not counting the first since you didn’t technically arrest me.” You replied, staring with boredom at the dirt under your nails. He nodded in response, reasonably impressed at you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, him watching you with tired but amused eyes and you fiddling with the cuffs around your ankles. Sam’s eyes were drawn to your hands, seeing the large red scar that ripped over it, shining slightly on your palm.

Suddenly, a loud gunshot rang through the sheriff’s range and the both of you sat up straight. A large group had planned an organised attack on the station and, much to your luck, it gave you a proper chance to escape (one which you accepted gratefully). Sam had seen you climbing quickly onto your horse, but he had more pressing matters at hand - at least that’s what he told himself.

1876

He sat in the bar, head in his hand as he played with the whisky glass in his palm - the ice creating a cold film over his fingers.

It was like something from a novel, the way you stood in the doorway, a perfect silhouette. You stepped into the light, looking overly annoyed at nothing in particular and Sam almost didn’t recognise you. The lace gloves on your hands looked as though they itched and he was surprised you could breathe in the corset,, but you looked…different, all the same. It seemed as though you didn’t recognise him either as you took a seat next to him at the bar, signalling for something (anything) to drink.

“Bandit?” He asked, eyes stuck on you. You turned slowly, recognising the voice. He had certainly changed, in fact, he almost resembled a man, though his face was still slightly too young for this to be true.

You smiled, sipping your drink. “Sam. And it’s Y/n.” you replied, sending a nod his way. Sam replied with the same courtesy and furrowed his brows, looking at the amount of skirts and ruffles that you wore. You took notice and sighed, fiddling with the outer lace. “Not my choice, too difficult to run in - but my brother chose the dress code for his wedding and the jacket wasn’t acceptable.” You complained, voice tired.

He laughed, though noted to himself that you had kept the bandanna around your face - no doubt the pistol was still hidden somewhere.

The two of you drank for a long while, sharing short stories (you trying to keep the more illegal details out) and talking about your brothers. However, it seemed as though all of your meetings would be short-lived.

“Ma’am.” A voice called, stern and unwelcoming. It was a voice you recognised (you had taught yourself to remember every voice of every Sheriff in the state…for your own convenience). You shared a look with Sam, you’d been recognised.

You sighed and agreed, standing and leaving the bar. “I don’t doubt we’ll see each other again, Sam.” You said simply, heading back toward the wedding.

1883

“Hello.”

Sam turned, smiling as he recognised you. You were back in the usual attire, red bandanna seeming more red than usual…if that were possible. You were standing, leaning against the wall with one hand lazily resting on your belt.

He found himself smiling. “I should technically arrest you,” He stated, standing in place by his horse. You grinned in reply, moving closer to him with a simple smile.

“Who cares about technicalities?”

You kept your hand on your holster, the other by your side, mirroring his pose. Your eyes moved to his hand, noticing how his fingers twitched in some sort of anticipation (though you weren’t sure whether he was going to arrest you or something much more exciting). Sam’s head cocked to the side, following your every movement with an unreadable expression, then he almost whispered, “wasn’t it fun though, me putting you in handcuffs?”

Sam had aged rather drastically in your few years apart, his jaw was harsh and square and his hair flicked, slowly but surely nearing his shoulders. He was broader too - before he had been young and as lean as a six foot four man could be but now he was all muscle, large shoulders and strong arms. He looked built for the job now. Sam’s scarred hands played over his belt buckle and your eyes flitted over it, seeing a small star sigil with a circle wrapping around it - something you recognised.

A smile played on your lips and you moved away again, fingers tucked through the loops of your jeans. “Smooth,” you spoke lazily, then turned just before you reached your horse, adding on, “but yes, it wasn’t too bad.” He laughed gently and you climbed onto Songbird, leaving him staring after you yet again.

1884

“Bandit.”

You smiled, nodding your head lazily. “Is my name so hard to forget?” You replied almost snarkily, a hint of something else hidden in your tone. You leaned down, wrapping any spare cloths you had found around his injury - you knew better than to remove the bullet.

Sam laughed gently, voice slightly weak. You looked up, brows furrowed in confusion as he spoke. “I just find it a funny sight…a bandit fixing up a ranger.”

You smiled too, now, shaking your head gently - you tried to ignore his wince as you tightened the scraps around his shaking arm. “You’re not really a bull though, are you?” He shook his head in response, sitting up slightly as if it would be a task to explain what he does.

”No. I’m more of a…specialist?”

”Oh, so a hunter.”

Sam went silent, almost in a state of shock - he wasn’t sure how to reply so instead he resorted to a simple nod and you went back to bandaging him, talking absentmindedly. “I am too, technically. I’m just more… illegal about it.” You spoke and he laughed, nodding once more in agreement.

You finally leaned away from his arm and sat by the completely extinguished fire, eyes stuck to him. “How about we go searching for your brother?” You asked, arms crossing. He moved closer to you and began to set up the fire once more, prompting a confused look from you.

”We’ll go in the morning, it’s not safe to travel now. I wouldn’t be able to fight in case anything happened.” He replied, adding, “a days more rest.” You nodded and leaned back against a large rock, eyes lidded as they flitted over to the slowly growing fire.

The night had grown dark, flurries of rain filtering through the deep blue sky. You were still awake, running your hands through your hair softly. Sam was sleeping, as soundly as you could with the annoying, spitting type of rain running down your face. It picked up after a while and under the harsh cover of night you could swear you heard the beating and repetitive sounds of hooves against wet sand.

You were, unfortunately, proven right and the very same bandits from two nights ago stormed you, coming back for what they had left. You knew you couldn’t leave Sam behind and resorted to a good old fashioned knife fight. If any gunshots were heard, they didn’t wake Sam - this type of noise was far too familiar in Texas.

You managed to fend them off until they gave up, but garnered a few nasty cuts on your arms. It was something you’d handle later on. Rain beat down now, choking you and you’re not sure what’s water and what’s blood in the dark.

The sun rose again - as it had always done - and your role of tending the fire dwindled to watching it die as Sam awoke beside you. “You’re hurt. How?” He asked, leaning close. Both yours and his wounds seeped in unison, weeping at each other for retribution.

”It’s usually the job description of a bandit to be hurt.” You replied, declaring to both him and yourself that it was no one's business. He didn’t relent.

He drew nearer, hands twitching in want - to help you as you had for him. Though, Sam couldn’t find it in himself to speak on the matter and moved on to something much more pressing. “Dean is alive. Back in town I’d wager.” You looked over, glad he had moved on.

You raised a brow. “And you’re sure how?” He allowed your confusion, offering a sort of explanation for the matter.

”His horse, if he had been hurt, Baby would ride straight back here.”

“What if Baby’s dead.”

Silence. No one had ever offered the idea. No one liked to think their pet would die. “That damn horse is invincible. Keeps on going. It’s been two days, they’re back in town.” Sam assured, watching you poke idly at the sand.

You nod and stand, brushing the dirt off of your knees. “Let's go meet him then.” You said simply, heading over to your horse. The knife wound on your thigh tugged at your movements and you tried to brush it off, hoping the limp wasn’t too visible.

The air was heavy and humid, ripping air from your lungs and sitting hot against your skin. “What happened?” He asked gently as the two of you headed in the direction of the town. Sam’s eyes lingered on your skin, tracing over where sweat stuck your clothes to you.

”It was nothing, a few of the bandits came back. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” You replied, pulling your collar away from your neck in irritation. The heat had risen with impossible speed and for once you were happy that your bandanna wasn’t secured around her neck. You leaned against Songbird as you rode, skin damp.

Sam watched from beside you, noticing how quiet and calm you seemed. “And you’re not bleeding out? I can help-“

You shook your head. “No need. I don’t want you to return any favours,” You looked at him with a smirk, “I might need a ‘get out of jail’ pass some day.” He laughed, turning back to the open path.

As if sent from the heavens, the wind picked up and cooled your skin, blowing warm air across your body - though you would’ve appreciated a cold breeze, this’d have to do. The morning had become midday, sun high in the sky and air foul with an uncomfortable smell, when Sam stopped still, both him and Riot seemingly staring off at nothing.

You came to a stop too, listening. Watching. “What?” You whispered, but then you saw it, so far away it could’ve been a speck. The breeze, the smells. It was a demon. There was a quick nod shared then the both of you took off toward the old barn. It was the only thing for miles and you were both sure that no human could live out here without supernatural assistance.

Sam usually would’ve taken time to plan, but he had been hunting this thing for far too long and irritation had whittled his patience down. He took the blade from his belt and pressed his back hard against a half-ruined wall while you went around the back, a bottle of holy water you kept in your pocket securely in your hand.

Of course, it had been expecting you, and your ambush was more of a self-sacrifice. Your back hit the barn wall harshly and you hit the ground, the holy water falling a ways away. Sam was next to fall, blade being ripped from his grasp. You sat up, groaning in pain and looked over. It was a man, one who had clearly been a bandit.

Pain ripped through your thigh and you looked down, seeing the stab wound tearing wider than it had before. You turned your head to the side, seeing the demon fighting Sam. He certainly had the mis advantage however and was moments away from his own knife entering his chest.

”Hey!” You yelled, standing up again. The demon. You wiped the sweat from your brow and pulled the colt from your waistband. “Christo, bitch.” You pulled the trigger and the demon crumpled to the floor, a mess of sinew, blood and demon ash.

Sam stood, wiping the sweat and blood from his brow. “Nice shot.” You nodded at him and walked back out the barn, your limp much more pronounced - something you could’ve expected.

——

The both of you reached town, ugly stains of red littering your clothes and skin. Dean was standing on the porch of the Sheriff's station with bruises of his own - though his weren’t as frequent and had nearly healed. He pulled his brother into a fierce hug, hand pushing the back of Sam’s head into Dean’s shoulder (if he had seen Sam wince he didn’t take note of it).

You watched from a distance, leaning next to your horse tiredly. Before you could turn to leave, cuffs were placed around your hands, guiding you away from Songbird. You looked up at the Sheriff with angry eyes, voice harsh and raw from fatigue, “I just saved your boy’s life. Multiple times.”

Sam looked over, brows furrowing as he saw you being led inside. He would’ve followed - he had all intention to - but Dean held him back with a harsh grip against his palm. “Sam. She’s a criminal.” There was a wager in his mind: he wanted to do the right thing - to free you, but a more guilty part of him won. He didn’t want to disappoint his brother. Sam turned away and your eyes tracked him in disappointment, though you know you shouldn’t have expected much.

Night fell fast, and the usual heat of Texas was replaced with splintered wooden floors, a sticky yet icy breeze and cold metal bars. You picked at your nails, trying to clean any remaining dirt out from underneath. Your weapons had been seized and without both them and your bandana you felt exposed.

You were just warming up to the idea of getting comfortable when a shadow covered the moon light that streamed through the windows, one with broad shoulders and a Stetson. The door of the cell swung open slowly, quietly and the shadow stepped to the side. “Go to your horse and leave.” The shadow whispered.

Sam.

A rough hand placed a piece of red cloth into your palm and a soft breath tickled against your ear. “Think of it as me returning the favour.” Through the filtered moonlight you could see Sam’s face, the old bottle windows scattering the night scene across his features like glitter. You smiled gently and leaned forward, placing a kiss to his lips. It was something slow and gentle, something memorable.

But then, you were gone, leaving no trace that you had been in the cell except the opened handcuffs and the sharp, yet fleeting smell of cherries and tobacco. Sam found himself smiling.

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #angst #sam winchester x fem!reader #supernatural #hurt/comfort #fluff #happy ending #if you squint #supernatural fic

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mochiwrites · 8 months

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Sooo

How about some mumbscarian where grian gets taken care of by the other two? :> (I'm in the mood for fluff)

perfect >:3

reblogs do more than likes!

——————

“Achoo!”

Mumbo and Scar wince as they hear the avian groan in annoyance, their twin footsteps leading them to him. They’re in Scar’s supposed starter base, the big tree standing tall and strong.

Grian is in Scar’s bedroom, swaddled in blankets with a wet cloth over his forehead. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed with sickness. He pouts at his boyfriends as they appear.

Scar looks at him, shaking his head and tutting as he crosses his arms. “Have we learned our lesson, songbird?” he asks, voice teasing but soft as he leans against the wall.

Grian glares at him, but it’s weak and barely well put together. ��…not to work on my base when it’s raining,” he grumbles, his pout remains on his face.

“I thought we were saving the lectures for later?” Mumbo asks, looking over at the elf with a confused stare. He then lifts a brow, “And no offense mate, but I think you’re hardly one to talk.”

Scar lets out a gasp, dramatic and playfully offended as Mumbo moves over to sit on the bed near Grian. “Mumbo, how could you! Betrayed by my lovely rose, the moonlight to my sunlight!” He sets a hand on his chest, as if it were pained. “This is the greatest betrayal, I’ll never trust again!”

His dramatics makes Mumbo laugh, fondness sparkling in his eyes. “My sincerest apologies, love,” he hums.

“Can you two stop flirting and come cuddle already,” Grian demands them, looking at them with an expression Mumbo can only describe as cutely pathetic.

Scar hums in thought, “I suppose I can forgive you dear. For the sake of our lovely bird’s health.” He grins cheekily before pushing off the wall and walking over to his loves and joining them on the bed. He presses a kiss to Mumbo’s lips with a smile, chuckling quietly. He then seats himself on the soft mattress, looking at Grian. “Now, I believe someone ordered some cuddles?”

If anyone asks, Grian did not grab at them with his hands. And his partners definitely did not chuckle at the action.

It doesn’t take long for Mumbo and Scar to curl around Grian, caging him in on either side. They wrap him up in their arms, snuggling in close enough but still giving him space. Grian cooes in contentment as his partners hold him, looking at them both.

“How’re you feeling, love?” Mumbo asks softly, lifting a hand to drag through Grian’s damp hair.

Grian hums quietly as he feels Mumbo’s fingers in his hair, eyes shutting as he leans into it. “Like absolute rubbish,” he answers.

Scar frowns lightly at that, the hand around Grian’s waist rubbing circles against his hip. “Well not to worry, dove! Your two amayzin’ boyfriends are here for your every need until you’re better!”

Grian gets comfortable between them, reaching out with his hands to grab whichever hands of theirs are closest to him. “Good,” he murmurs, sounding sleepy the more Mumbo combs through his hair, “you can stay then.” He lightly squeezes their hands.

Mumbo and Scar look at him with matching soft expressions, and Scar can’t resist leaning in and kissing the corner of Grian’s mouth. “For as long as you need, songbird.”

“We’ll be here,” Mumbo promises him, kissing his cheek. Unlike Scar, he happens to care about getting sick. “You should get some rest now, Gri.” He continues to brush his fingers along the strands.

“Since you asked so nicely, Mumbo.”

#mochi speaks #mumscarian #grumbo #scarian #redscape #hermitshipping #mochi writes #bro I am RUSTY on writing the three of them together #DAMN #anyways! rare mochi fluff :D

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asha-mage · 3 months

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Cyberpunk Meta: The Power of Sticking to Your (Narrative and Thematic) Guns

I've been struggling to articulate why exactly I find Cyberpunk 2077 so damn compelling, given how far it is out of my usual wheel house in terms of genre, tone, and even ideology. And I think after beatng Phantom Liberty it finally clicked-

What enthralls me about this game is it's complete commitment to it's underlying themes and ideas.

Most video games struggle to challenge the player on a story level. Some of this is the capitalism of it all: the idea that video games that aren't trying to make every moment exciting and engaging and wish fulling aren't going to sell well, and so video games should try and maximize player satisfaction above all else. But it's not just that- video games have an inherent limitation of medium in that, since they ask for so much time from the player, they have to be hooky, to draw you in, and keep you there. You don't loose a video game when you die and have to start over. You loose a video game when you put it down and decide to stop picking it up again. And that means that the ways a video game can or will push it's audience are sharply limited- it curtails their ability to make the player uncomfortable, to deprive them, to push them into things like no-win scenarios, and bad endings, to force the player to reflect. And that limit is a hurdle to making art inherent to video games as a medium.

What I admire about Cyberpunk 2077 is it's willingness to find away around, over, and through those limits, while still sticking to it's narrative and thematic guns. Cyberpunk could so easily fall into the trap of making the torment nexus look cool and rad. But it doesn't. Night City is a suffocating capitalist hellscape plastered with advertisements, where the right of way belongs to the person with the car running you over, the only way to get an ambulance is to have a good enough insurance policy, and dodging bullets on your way to work is just a part of every day. The game is unafraid to hammer it home repeatedly that this world is broken, sick, lost, and their isn't really anything you can do to save it. One of the main themes of the game is that sometimes, their are no good choices: just ones you can live with.

And nothing hits this home harder then Phantom Liberty's King of Wands ending. The game hammers you during it's final stretch, again and again- how much are you willing to help Songbird, someone who is, at the end of the day, no different then you- a young kid way in over their head, dying from betrayal and loss, with only a razor thin margin of hope. Helping her is the right thing, but what are you willing to do for that? The game slowly strips away your other motivations and reasons, until you are sitting on that train left with just one reality: do you call Reed and betray Songbird because that's the only way to get the cure you need? Or do you preform an act of true altruism and charity, in a world tormented by greed and selfishness? Do you put her on that rocket, and send her away knowing you'll get nothing for your trouble but the knowledge you stuck to what you believed was right? Or do you choose to give her up to the FIA, to Reed, to Myers, knowing what that will mean, knowing that all she's done to win her freedom?

And like, the sheer audacity, to add an ending via DLC, and it's not a good ending. Their is no magical reward, no last minute silver bullet, or dues ex machina. Virtue is it's own reward. The extra ending you get, for compromising, for betraying, for choosing the same selfishness and greed as everyone else in Night City- it's a bad ending. You loose all your personal relationships, you loose our chance to be a legend, you even loose Johnny in the end. And for what? To most likely end up like Reed one day- on the leash of the NUSA, used up until their is nothing left but regret. I've never seen a game quite do that, because it runs against that central idea of video games- it's anti power fantasy. Your extra time, extra missions, extra choices- their not rewarded, not repaid. The story doesn't let V find a third door just because they have been moral and true. It's unjust. It's cruel. It's unfair.

Just like the world Cyberpunk 2077 is warning against.

And that, is a brilliant bit of art.

#cyberpunk 2077 #Cyberpunk #Phantom Liberty #phantom liberty spoilers #V #Songbird #Solomon Reed #rosalind myers #Johnny Silverhand #And NONE of this is even getting into how the final mission for King of Wands is a retelling of Paradise Lost #WHICH IS WILD ON IT'S OWN #*chews arm off*#Cyberpunk meta

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vvluvmai · 10 months

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𝑭𝑺𝑴 ✩ 𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ(adj.) incapable of expressing oneself clearly through speech

warn. Fem reader, ooc kaiser?, Tiny spoilers, mentions of alcohol, drunk kaiser, nicknames (mein singvogel [my songbird], princess, bastard), not exactly proofread, angst w/ comfort, part ii INARTICULATE

sum. With the stress and frustration from losing to mr. Blue Lock, from the humility of being called a clown of his story, and bottling up his emotions into a tiny bottle since the start of his career, he finally let it burst behind the doors of your shared bedroom, in which he thought you were gone.

char. Micheal Kaiser

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ☔︎⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A nervous figure sat on the couch, accompanied by slow jazz playing in the background with a calming rain lending comfort to the anxious and paranoid figure, who did anything to distract herself from the pang in her chest, the rising pace of her heartbeat. You who scrolled through any media your eyes can take, you who ignored your jittery legs, who tried to ignore the thoughts clouding your mind were now growing exponentially anxious.

The clicking clock neither help in your comfort, only making you more nervous – nothing had helped in your case, drinking, taking long breaths in&out, working, writing, none helped your beating heart, the absence of your teasing and loving boyfriend worsened it. Oh where could your prince be at such a time like this?

He hasn't texted or called you of his whereabouts since his game, which resulted in a loss for bastard munchen, ended. Finally having enough of it, you opened your phone once again, instead of scrolling mindlessly, you opened the phone call app, searching through the many saved contacts of loved ones and friends and clicking on the one you were after, probably, the most trusted friend of your boyfriend, Alexis Ness.

Within a few seconds he picked up, your tone was shaky as you spoke, trying to calm it and speak normally. You knew what Kaiser does to himself when a defeat was upon him, and now the passing hours of his absence, you don't know if he ended up drunk at a bar, or beating himself up at some alleyway "hi, ness?" "Ah y/n, why must you've called so late at night? It's nearly 10:30 pm." "I- uh apologise if I had uh awakened you from y-your sleep but have you seen kaiser anywhere? His whereabouts, is he training late or is he at your or your teammate's house?" Before you bombard his ear with your ongoing rambling of his friend's whereabouts, he asked a question you most dreaded. "Wait, he's not at your house? He told me he would be going to your house as soon as our match ended." "A-ah.. no, well I better get going now, sleep well ness. Don't overwork yourself too much Kay?" "h-hey wai-" you cut the phone without a second thought, leaving it on the coffee table. Taking your car keys you made your way to the locked front door but coming to an abrupt stop as you heard keys rattling and the door's lock unlocking. With the only person who has the keys to the shared penthouse was Kaiser, your thoughts ran berserk, 'oh dear, has someone murdered Kaiser and stolen his keys?', you thought. Positioning your keys in such a way it can injure a person. Stepping back as the door opened revealed a drenched in rain, drunk and cheek stained with defeated tears man, it was him who stood before you, the narcissistic, princely, asshole and bastard munchen's greatest, Micheal Kaiser, who now stood as a broken man.

Your keys fell to the ground, rushing to his side having no care of his drenched clothes staining yours and locking the door behind you. "Oh darling, what have you done to yourself.." your caring and comforting voice filled his ears, a small faint smile forming at the hearing of it. "Will you have the comfort of knowing the doings of mine?" You scrunch your nose at the smell of alcohol reeking from his mouth, sitting him down on the couch leaving behind the trail of water you have to clean up, you left to retrieve water for him but stopped at the feeling of a tug at your shirt. You looked back, Kaiser raising his head to face you, new crystal tears "don't leave me here all alone." His mouth quivering, it broke you, so, so bad. You failed to lend him the comfort he needed, you failed to notice how much he needed you. Leaving him to fulfil your own duties and work, rubbing off his needy behaviour, unable to see the chagrined face behind his smiling and whiny voice. The past three weeks were tiring and ridden you both of life, sleeping through even when Kaiser woke up from reoccurring nightmares, unable to brave through no matter how often it happens. "Alright, I won't go, I won't go. I will be beside you, every moment of it, I will never leave you, even after death" you reassured calmly, moments away from crying with him. He pulled you into a tight hug, sobbing quietly, choking on his tears every now and then, barely able to speak of his emotions through speech. You silently patted his head, combing his hair with your fingers. You didn't even care about the wet spots on your shirt, some with spit and some with tears. He needed this, never had he had this comfort in his life. "I'm s-sorry-" "for what?" You spoke gently, he looked at you with wide teary eyes. "Micheal, you are an amazing boyfriend, everything I could ask for. Everyone has their moments of failure and such, those are unable to face it, fall, week. And those are, rise, strong and you are one of the strongest man I have ever met, physically and emotionally. You faced everything alone, I want to accompany you, in your struggles and mote. Will l you let me face your struggles together like you do with me?" "God, why do you love such an asshole like me, you should just leave like they said.." he spoke despondently, wiping away his tears aggressively "who told you you were an asshole? I don't care what they say, I don't care what the media says, I don't care what anyone says, I will never leave you, no matter. You are worth everything in this world, the things you do for me are thoughtful and always held with good intention, everytime you buy me a gift, it has a meaning behind it, and I wish I had the money to buy you something back, fuck if I was rich I would give you the entire world if I could." He hid his face in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you, more gently and less tightly. His brows furrowed, the thoughts, the nightmare in his mind were leaving the more you spoke. Other than ness, no one had ever thought of him so lovingly this much. A smile was slowly plastered to his face, it stayed hidden.

"I.. I love you so much.. Thank you for staying beside me.., even when I'm being hard sometimes, you still deal with me. Thank you for bringing me comfort, mein singvogel. I never felt so.. happy. Thank you" he spoke quietly, he felt small but secure. Your soft voice spoke yet again "there's no need to thank me, kai, now let's get you cleaned up shall we?" "Will you join?" He spoke slyly, revealing his tiny sly smile, you chuckled joyfully "even after all this, you managed to be such a sly lil shit, that's what I love the most about you" without a second, you cupped his face kissing him fervently. His wife eyes now glued shut, pushing you, hugging you into a kiss. You both broke apart, "stop looking at my lips and look at my eyes you bastard" you giggled "just let me have this moment princess" you huffed out a falsely annoyed 'fine', softly pinching his cheeks "ow, stop thattt your hurting mee" he whined, it was moments like this you cherished most, it felt most lively, most wholesome and most loving. "C'mon now, let's get you to bath" "only if you join" he retorted back "alright fine, now c'mon, get going" with ecstasy, he followed, like a lost but happy puppy, thinking of a stranger as it's new mother.

𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 —

mein singvogel - my songbird

Fufufu I finished this within the day, kaiser is such a silly man sometimes

Tags: @kaiserkisser

#bllk angst #bllk comfort #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #micheal kaiser #micheal kaiser x reader #micheal kaiser bllk #kaiser #kaiser bllk #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x reader angst #kaiser x reader angst w/ comfort

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antisocialpanda · 3 months

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Snowbaird Arena AU fic idea I’ve been thinking about for weeks now but don’t have any writing talent to make it come to life so if anyone out there wants to take this on please do!

In this AU Coryo doesn’t manage to escape the arena when he’s sent in to get Sejanus. Sejanus does get out (because this fic is about Snowbaird and I don’t want Sejanus to be third wheeling the whole time lol) but maybe Coral’s pack corners Coryo and he has to take a detour through the tunnels and Lucy Gray hears him and leads him to safety. Gaul couldn’t care less about getting him out because if he dies at least it’ll be off camera and everyone will be none the wiser.

The majority of the games will play out the same but this time Lucy Gray won’t be alone, when Jessup becomes rabid they bolt into the arena together to escape and that’ll be when the viewers see for the first time that one of the mentors is trapped in the arena (Gauls probably been going around telling people Coryo is off with the flu - Clemmie will be the only one who suspects something shady is at play since that was the same excuse they used for her). Everyone in the Capitol is up in arms about one of their own students being in the arena (Crassus Snow’s son no less!)

Lucy Gray and Coryo survive the games. I know in this AU he’s not around the drop the handkerchief into the snake tank but he’s been with Lucy Gray in the arena the whole time - and maybe to keep her warm at night he’s leant her his blazer (I know in the book he wasn’t wearing it but let’s say’s for this story he is) - so his scent would be on her and when the tank explodes and the snakes reach them they don’t attack. Lucy Gray still sings still because that song slaps and maybe this time Gaul is the one to suggest the singing is calming the snakes because she can’t exactly say “yeah they’re not attacking because they already know Snows scent from that time I used it to test my students honesty which resulted in one of them getting bitten multiple times and almost dying lol” it’s already bad enough that one of the students is in there, can’t let the Capitol know she’s using them as test subjects for her mutts too!

They’re out of the arena and Gauls stuck between a rock and a hard place because she can either tell people she willingly sent a Capitol student into the arena mid-games and left him there to fend for himself OR she can say Coryo broke in himself to protect Lucy Gray because young love blah blah which she’ll absolutely hate but may not result in her getting fired so that’s the story she goes with.

Dean Highbottom will actually for once try and do something decent and sees this as an opportunity to potentially end the games for good by playing up the Capitol Boy/ District Girl in love story blah blah look how District and Capitol can work as a team blah blah we’re not so different you and I blah blah Gaul wants everyone to believe that all humans are inherently monsters but look how these too worked so hard to protect each other…you get the idea.

The games are cancelled, Gaul probably still gets fired (Sejanus and Strabo probably corner the President and tell him “listen, you need to fire this bitch, we all know what really went down”), Snowbaird have their happy ending, there’s an emotional reunion between Coryo and Tigris, the Grandma’m is actually relatively pleasant to Lucy Gray since she saw how hard they protected each other in the games, maybe the covey come to the Capitol and perform and Plubris’ nightclub.

Anyway, that’s pretty much it. If anyone wants to adopt this baby, please do and let me know where I can read it. It would be much appreciated ☺️

I have read Saving Each Other by flipflop_diva (which I’ll include a link to, I definitely recommend you read) but if anyone knows any other similar fics please message me!

#snowbaird #snowbaird fic #coryo snow #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus #fanfic ideas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #sejanus plinth

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jacensolodjo · 2 years

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Speaking of hunting for food rather than sport (re: @vaspider‘s thread), another important thing to consider is the effect on the ecosystem. And yes, I mean it is good for the ecosystem for humans to hunt for subsistence.

A lot of animal rights activists would prefer no animal be harmed by humans. But what many of them don’t consider is that having too many ‘prey animals’ is a problem for the ecosystem around us.

Getting rid of wolves has had disastrous results. And we know this because whenever wolves are reintroduced magically the area they are released into seems to heal. They lower the population of prey animals like deer which means they get rid of the sick or otherwise that harms their fellow deer to have but also they reduce the numbers of prey animals in general which has an effect on the trees and bushes and even the very fucking ground they walk on.

Human hunters in places without proper apex predators automatically are the apex predator themselves and thus do the same job (I mean in general we are always considered apex but like we don’t do too well unarmed with just our wimpy teeth and fingers against lower order apexes like wolves). If hunters are taking down deer, using their pelts and meat and everything else, they are making the area that much better. Hunting in this way is sustainable in the most inherent fashion you can imagine.

As Yellowstone has found, reintroduced wolves have caused the elk to migrate. This means the willow strands are not over-browsed. This ripples to beavers who now have these willows to build their dams and offer food sources. Beavers making dams means they help the water table and also provide areas for fish to congregate. Having the willows also allows for songbirds to repopulate the area. Lower predators now have fish to eat. We are still studying the full effects of wolf reintroduction. Human hunters do the same thing. They go out hunting during the season and it prompts movement of the deer etc.,

If anything, one’s efforts to saving animals should be focused on predators like wolves. Wolves help far more than they hurt but of course have been hunted to extinction because they are considered a risk to humans and cattle (or other farm animals like chickens or w/e). HOWEVER, the number of wolf attacks on either has never been high enough to justify hunting them to extinction. But people pretend this is so. When in fact it would be far better to only worry if they get to your land rather than going out and purposely hunting them down when they have not done a damn thing to you. (Which also means that it is a viable option to keep a rifle or shotgun for the purposes of protecting yourself on your land from predators but not to use it to just hunt them in a kind of firststrike attack.)

In essence, TL;DR:

Hunting deer good Hunting wolves bad

#текст #subsistence hunting #conservation

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posthungergamessyndrome · 7 months

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The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes Movie Review

I went to the opening night of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and since I had written all my reviews of the Hunger Games movies on my tumblr blog, I’d be remissed if I don’t do one for the prequel here.

First I want to say that no matter how you feel about the prequel or even if you read it all or not, sitting in the movie theatre in my district 12 shirt and TBOSAS cardigan and watch a new hunger games movie with other hunger games fans who were also all dressed up is so nostalgic and just bring me back to the times when we were thick into this franchise here on tumblr with the OG movies, and that alone was worth going to see this movie.

The showing I went to was a Panem Party, so they also had “merch” on our seats when we arrived, and it reminded me so much of the time when I went to the catching fire premiere in DC, and it's just amazing to have new hunger games merch in 2023.

I did purposely avoid all promos for this movie as much as I can because I wanted to go into it as spoiler free as possible, and I only read the book once and haven’t reread it since.

I did rewatch all the movies earlier this year but only rewatched mockingjay part 2 the night before, which I think was a good idea because I think a lot of the foreshadowing and parallels are with Mockingjay.

Before I go into spoilers in my review, I’d say overall it’s a good movie on par with the original trilogy. I think this prequel managed to do and succeeded in what other franchises failed to do when they tried to also revisit or expand their world.

It delves into the world of hunger games without being redundant, it had a relevant story to tell outside of the trilogy but still very much connects to it, it gave us interesting characters and while it gave a lot of new information about the world, it also left audience with questions and wanting more, but it in a good way.

When it comes to casting, I think they did another great job of casting the characters especially with young Snow. I think Tom Blyth was able to humanize Snow enough without - and I can’t believe I’m using this word again after all these years - woobifying him or making him overly sympathetic.

I think both his acting and the script allowed audience to see him as a human being, which is kinda meta when in the movie Snow advocated for the tributes to be seen as human beings by the capitol enough to place bets on them and make them believe the tribute they got to know and root for will win, at the same time we as the audience was led to believe or hope or be deluded or gaslit or whatever you want to term it, that there’s good in young Snow and worth rooting for, which makes the moments where he shows no he’s not a good person and he chose to do the bad things was still shocking to the audience, even if we already knew how his story ends from the original trilogy.

However, I do think what the movie failed to convey about his character is the bad choices he initially made weren’t because he ultimately didn’t have a choice or those are the only choices he can make in order to save sejanus, him and Lucy.

Because in the book we were privy to his internal monologue, we know the bad choices he made were his own conscious choices, that he had every opportunity to be a good person but actively chose to not be one.

But on the other hand that’s a natural consequence of a book to movie adaptation, we don’t get the internal monologue unless there’s a voice over, which I don’t think would have worked in this movie if they went that route.

Although I do think it could have somewhat worked in the last scenes when he was talking to dr Gaul about what are the hunger games for and his future, coz the ending of this movie didn’t explain why the 10th hunger games wasn’t mentioned or known at all by the characters in the original trilogy.

They could have done a montage of Snow erasing the footage of the 10th hunger games himself while we hear their conversation, and while he was staring at the screen it could even then transition to that last scene in the first hunger games movie where president snow was looking at katniss and Peeta returning to 12 and then turning around, and then the scene goes back to young snow as he exit the academy and to the last shot of him in the movie, which also was a nice parallel to katniss’ last shot in catching fire, along with the same movie score.

I do think Rachel Zegler was a great casting choice for Lucy Gray, however, I got to be honest, I found her musical numbers to be cringey. It’s like this movie is actually a hunger games musical but it’s only her character that’s singing for her character and plot development. She’s a great actress but she’s also very theatrical, which you might say makes sense coz Lucy Gray is a performer, but it was to the point I thought she was overacting in certain scenes that it really took me out of the film.

But that said, Rachel and Tom had great chemistry, and the tension in the relationship really came through in the movie. I bought their relationship more in the movie than I did when reading the book.

Their relationship in the book felt very insta love to me, like their tongues are in each others throat after meeting for three days. The movie made it a little bit more slow burn, that yes there might be initial attraction between them but snow was directly questioning her if she’s for real and she’s directly asking him if he can be trusted. Their one real kiss in the movie was earned instead of just kissing all the time like they did in the book.

There’s that real desire or they deluded themselves that they can be together but when hit with reality they ultimately choose themselves over the other.

Sejanus was the character I was looking forward to the most and I wasn’t sure about Josh Rivera playing him, but he managed to pull it off okay.

For me, the real formative relationship Snow had that truly informs who he becomes is his relationship with sejanus, more so than his with Lucy.

I’m not condoning anything he did towards Lucy, but it wasn’t unreasonable that in the end City Boy Snow didn’t choose to give up his lifelong ambition for a two-week situationship with a poor girl from another district that’s likely still hung up on her ex, and worst, to live in the woods. It was kinda expected, really.

His relationship with sejanus however imo was far more meaningful and significant to him, because whether he admits to it or not, he did care about sejanus, even if he didn’t want to. Sejanus basically crept up on him and even though he rationalized in the book and maybe also in the movie that he was only protecting him because his mentors instructed him to or he needed to win the prize money, but ultimately he did care about what happens to sejanus and can’t help but save him from himself. That’s why Snow betraying sejanus and killing him in the end was truly the point of no return for Snow and what he did to Lucy just seals the deal.

So I am glad the movie did spend almost the same about time developing that relationship with Sejanus and Snow, and not just with Snow and Lucy, though I still think they could’ve found a better actor for sejanus.

The relationship Snow had with Tigris was interesting as well, and I also think was more significant to his character development than his relationship with Lucy, but the movie did just gloss over it and only spent time on it at the beginning of the movie.

The biggest issue of the hunger games movies has always been pacing, but while this movie was long, the pacing was the best in this one. I already expected that they will cut a lot from the book even though it is the longest movie in the entire franchise, so the missing details wasn’t as big as a deal for me than it was in the og movies. I still think this should had been an 6-9 episode series, but as a stand alone movie, it works and I don’t truly miss the missing scenes from the book.

I did like the movie was divided in three parts, it helps with keeping up with the movie and storyline, especially for those that didn’t read the book.

when I was reading the book, it didn’t really pick up for me until part 3, but I actually found the first two parts of the movie to be far more enjoyable to watch than the third part. Aside from Snow and Lucy, I think a lot of credit goes to the character of Lucky Flickerman, he gave the movie enough levity to help with the pacing of the film, and I like that he voices out what’s going wrong with the games like the audience would (those drones don’t work!).

I think the arena scenes were done well, it conveyed the horror of kids killing kids without it looking like glorified violence. I do think the portrayal of what happens in the arena was much better than in the first movie, or honestly maybe even in catching fire as far as the emotional impact of the killings and deaths go. There were many moments I was horrified and looked away when a tribute gets killed.

I do think the movie made the capitol students more self aware and empathetic towards the tributes than they were in the books. It wasn’t just sejanus that was conflicted about being a mentor, and I don’t remember the scene of the students rallying to get Lucy out of the arena happening in the book.

Viola Davis as Dr. Gaul and Peter Dinkilage as Dean Highbottom were without a question great in their portrayal but honestly at the end of the day not the most memorable characters in the movie. Unlike woody harrelson, Elizabeth banks, Donald Sutherland, Stanley tucci, & other adult characters in the OG trilogy, who really made an impression with their character portrayals, aside from Jason Schwartzman, no adult character did the same in this prequel movie.

I often say Francis Lawrence is always on the nose with his direction and like to spoon feed the audience, but when it came to the lore of the hanging tree, that's where he finally chose to be subtle. instead of doing like a "Deathly Hallows" exposition of the origin of the hanging tree, it is the plot of the third act. So if you're just a casual fan, you'd think the only connection is Lucy sang it so Snow remembers when Katniss does in Mockingjay.

Instead, what Francis did is show the scenes from the lyrics of the hanging tree as part of the plot. "The dead man called out for his love to flee" that happened at the very first execution sejanus and snow saw in district 12, and snowballed to the rest of the movie until Snow and Lucy agreed to meet at the hanging tree the day the ran away, although at dawn, not at midnight.

The only heavy handed foreshadowing for me was the thing the Katniss plant, "it's too early for katniss" bit was a bit much. the subtle clues here and there for me was enough, with the meadow, the lake, the lake house, the jabberjays and mockingjays, the hanging tree...

so yeah, I think that's pretty much it. If you read this far, especially if you're one of the OGs of the THG tumblr fandom, member of the Peeta Mellark Defense Squad, and everlark stan, thank you and if you're on tiktok want to talk prequel movie or discuss all things hunger games, hit me up!

#hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray #coriolanus snow #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #mockingjay #catching fire #TBOSAS

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bellsmess · 5 months

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I've got the Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes sountrack stuck in my head and I whenever I hear Pure as the Driven Snow I think about Coriolanus' and Lucy Gray's relationship deteriorating

The song is all about how innocence was stripped off of Lucy Gray, and yet how she tries to find beauty and goodness in the world around her, even in Coriolanus. Movie-only fans won't know that the song mentions The Coven having to turn ice into water during the winter because it froze over, and how Lucy Gray wanted to include Coryo in daily activities such as milking goats to get butter. That after Coriolanus went after her with a gun, he was bitter that just the day earlier he was "pure as the driven snow", but that trust evaporated because he wasn't honest with her.

What always kills me is the line, "You asked for a reason, I've got three and twenty for why I trust you". It was so hard for Lucy Gray to trust anybody, it was harder to her to trust than to love, and yet she trusted Coriolanus. (Coriolanus, of all people.) She believed that they would escape together, make a life for each other in the North. She trusted him, and then figured out that he was responsible for the death of his supposed best friend. She escaped to save herself from someone who she was sure loved her.

Another thing that kills me is the line "The world goes blind when children are dying". When I was reading The Hunger Games series as a kid, I felt deeply for each one of the tributes. 23 kids killed of for entertainment purposes? Back then, it felt surreal. I didn't have the evidence of everyone turning their eyes away from the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. I didn't see dying people every day on the screen of my phone, and I didn't see people voting 'no' to a ceasefire. When Lucy Gray sings those words, she means kids dying in the Hunger Games, but I saw innocent Palestinians.

The song also comments on our moralty and how it's our choice to follow it. "Everyone's born as clean as a whistle, as fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy. Staying that was is a hard row for hoeing. As rough as a briar, like walking through fire."

Suzanne just never misses with her commentary.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg #snowbaird #pure as the driven snow #the punctuation might be off bc i'm using polish rules i'm not sure abt the english ones #tbosas brainrot

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writeyouin · 11 months

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When you get to writing again (no pressure), may we have a continuation of the Songbird human with the Decepticons please? Megs goes through with his idea to take the human for entertainment, and the Cons find themselves taking care of the human for reasons other than wanting to hear them singing

TFP/Reader Insert – Music in the Night Part 2 of ? - Songbird

A/N – NGL, I am legit considering writing a 3rd part smut to this either with Starscream, Knockout… or both. It gave me kinky vibes.

Warning – None. Despite the AN, this is actually a safe chapter.

Rating – T

You shivered in the cage you had been placed in. It was just like a birdcage, with enough room to pace around but little else. There was also a swinging perch, no doubt meant to mock you. You didn’t dare say anything as a bunch of overly large robots jeered you. Every time you tried to stand, one of them would knock your cage and laugh as you fell down.

You couldn’t distinguish much between the laughing and mockery, but you did catch snippets of words here and there.

A doctor of sorts was mentioned though alongside his title, you heard the words torture and experiment.

Then there was the case of a metallic bird being praised, the same one who had captured you. You believed he was called, Laserbeak, not that his name mattered much. You were terrified of the idea that the robots surrounding you might put Laserbeak in the cage with you, perhaps to kill you, or if you were lucky, only to scare you further.

What were these creatures? Who had made them? And who controlled them now? They seemed to be sentient, but what if they were just some kind of messed-up avatars for sickos on the dark web?

Finally, a hush fell over the crowd.

“All hail Megatron,” The newly parted crowd of Vehicons cheered.

You happened to be watching a silver bot, Starscream as you would later come to know him, when the chant began. Although he opened his mouth along with the rest, he wasn’t saying the words. Was he your opportunity to escape?

You didn’t have to ask yourself who Megatron was as another bot, larger and more imposing than the rest walked through the centre of his followers.

You scrambled back as he approached your cage, making yourself as small as possible, bumping into your guitar as you did; you hadn’t even realised it was there until then. Yet, instead of addressing you, Megatron stopped in front of your cage and turned to face his followers.

“Decepticons, tonight we were victorious!” He held up the fossilised tool that had been the prize piece in the museum only earlier that night.

The so-called Decepticons in the room cheered exuberantly, and another chorus of Megatron's name began. This time, with Megatron’s gaze sweeping his army, even Starscream chanted his name, putting in more apparent effort than those around him; it would do him no good to be caught plotting against his leader in front of everyone. Seeing him cheer so vigorously, you deflated further and became even more fearful for your life.

“As a reward,” Megatron said loftily once the cheering had died down, “I had Laserbeak bring you a gift.”

Megatron turned pointedly to you, tapping your cage just enough to make it wobble.

“Enjoy your new pet, I assure you it’s quite the songbird. Provided it gives up plenty of entertainment, it will be allowed to live. However, should it refuse to sing, it shall be put down,” Megatron grinned pointedly at you.

So, that was why they wanted you. You were just a ploy at entertainment to them.

“YOU HEARD OUR MASTER, SING!” Starscream cajoled you.

You slowly pulled your guitar into your lap, cuddling it for a moment of comfort. This wasn’t real – it couldn’t be; it was all too insane.

Starscream approached the cage menacingly, revealing a large electric prod he had been hiding behind his back. “Didn’t you hear my order, you pathetic little wretch? I said sing.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you thought that you might cry, or faint, neither of which would save your life. Throughout your life, you had sung for many reasons. You had chirped cheerful tunes, sung sad serenades, poured your heart into romantic arias, and belted out soulful symphonies. You had been paid to sing for weddings and funerals, birthdays, and festivals. You had played on the street for all to hear, and in the dead of night when it was just you and the moonlight; you had never had to sing to save your life before.

Suddenly, the weight of the situation came crashing down on you. You hurriedly stood up, relieved when you weren’t knocked down again. Righting your guitar so it rested where it should, you tested that the strings were all in tune.

E A D G B E – Yes, the instrument was fine and ready to play; you were relieved for that, fearing any wasted time.

Despite your shaking hands, you started plucking out a familiar tune. Although you tried to sing the opening lyrics to AJ Michalka’s Escapism your voice came out as a weak croak, much to the hilarity of your captors.

“Do better, filthy organic,” Starscream demanded hysterically, feeding off the laughter of the crowd as he threatened you. He certainly enjoyed the spotlight; the problem was that he kept drawing everyone’s attention back to you.

You started again, and though this time you managed to sing the opening lyrics, your melancholy melody served only to irritate the bots around you. They wanted music to aid their celebrations, not bring them down from their high.

“NOT LIKE THAT EITHER, FILTHY WRETCH,” Starscream screeched at you, slapping the cage.

You whimpered pitifully, having hit your funny bone against the cage bars; you weren’t finding the bone so funny at that moment.

“Starscream, have a spark,” A red bot stepped forward confidently. Although he seemed to be advocating for your safety, there was no real warmth beneath his words, only further ridicule.

“And what would you suggest, Knockout?”

“I’d suggest spicing things up a bit.”

Starscream stepped aside, gesturing for Knockout to have the floor. The red bot leered at you, his crimson optics and sharp fangs only frightening you further. You expected him to jostle your prison, much as the others had, or perhaps to take the electric prod from Starscream and use it on you. Instead, he slipped an electric guitar through the bars, the connected amp wire leading far out of sight; well, if worst came to worst, you could hang yourself, even if that was a defeatist way of thinking.

You scrambled towards the new guitar, choosing to survive at any cost. Alas, the new guitar wasn’t tuned well and your audience wasn’t happy to wait for you to twang the strings until they sounded as they should. That few minutes felt like an eternity as you were slandered, mocked, and generally abused, yet, though they made many threats of violence, you remained unharmed. You had a feeling that was something to do with Megatron, as he sat far away from you on a throne, his helm resting lazily against his arm, a smug smile on his face.

Although you didn’t feel like playing anything that wasn’t as sad and small as you felt, you stood up, trying to act at least semi-confident. Okay, so the bots were celebrating. Fine; you would lift their spirits and rouse their success.

‘It’s just like a paid gig,’ You thought, though the payment was your survival.

You swung your arm down on the guitar dramatically. Immediately, the Decepticons were roused by the movement. They were even further energized as you started singing the 1986 Spectre General hit, Nothing’s Gonna Stand in Our Way.

Your captors acted like a drunk college dorm, screaming in support of the song, especially whenever you got to a chorus or a line that they could relate to.

You continued belting out the tune as something called High-Grade was passed around in vibrant purple cubes; from what you could gather, it seemed to be an alcohol of some kind, and as the crowd grew more intoxicated, they became rowdier, demanding more songs.

You sang The Cherry Bomb’s Hunger City, a rendition of Kool and the Gang’s Celebration, Queen’s We Are the Champions, which you were made to repeat a further four times, and finally ended on a chorus of Don’t Stop Me Now, further cementing the fact that the Decepticons were Queen fans.

Finally, you were allowed to rest, and this time instead of being pushed down, you sank to the cage floor of your own accord.

Slowly, bots started filing out, and Megatron passed your cage, the last to leave.

“Well done, Songbird. You get to live, for now.”

With that, he threw a pet collar into your cage, laughing vilely as he left the room. You held the red collar in your arms, noting that the golden dog tag held your new pet name, Rover. You scrunched the collar up in your hands and wept; why was this happening to you?

Initially, life was as bad as you expected it to be. You were humiliated at every turn by bots who didn’t care about you or your well-being.

The only improvement to your conditions was that you were given a proper room aboard the ship. You were thankful for the toilet, shower, and cooking facilities, but you hated your confinement all the same.

The room could be viewed by any passer-by, with no privacy, and you couldn’t leave of your own accord thanks to the electrified plasma shield which kept you contained very effectively.

There was only a dog bed to sleep in, and as if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you didn’t have any proper plates or bowls, only a few pet bowls to eat out of. Whenever the Decepticons wanted you to sing, they would order you into the bird cage and carry you to their quarters for a private serenade, or to a bar on the ship where everyone could hear you. Nobody ever called you your name, you were Rover, Mutt, wretched flesh-bag, or whatever other terrible nickname came to mind. Every night, you cried yourself to sleep.

You didn’t expect things to change, and yet over time, unusual things started happening. It began with some of the Vehicons. After a rough loss, they would visit you; they didn’t seem to want anything other than to watch you. Feeling awkward, you tried your best to please them with whatever songs came to mind, sometimes on the electric guitar you had been provided, but more often than not on the acoustic. It’s not like they asked you to sing, but you found it better to be on their good side as if pretending that you didn’t mind your confinement might aid your chances of survival.

Soon enough, they began visiting you before missions. They acted almost ritualistically as if you were a good luck charm and visiting you meant that they would have better chances of survival. Those that came back alive started bringing you treats. The items were still degrading, but having balls to throw around your cell was better than having nothing in the way of entertainment; there was only so much time in the day you could spend playing the guitar. However, you hated it when they brought you chocolate or other such snacks; although you had been missing sweets, you detested having them shoved in your face and being forced to swallow.

You didn’t expect much to come of this until one day your visitor was Starscream. He looked like he resented you and yet there he was, giving you a good luck pat on the head much like the others had. That night, when he came back, battered and bruised from a beating off Megatron he grabbed you from your holding cell and carried you roughly to his hab-suite.

He threw you down on a countertop. You didn’t know what he wanted from you; he hadn’t brought an instrument with him, and for a moment, you were certain he was going to kill you, just out of spite.

“WELL?!” He demanded.

“I-” You shuddered, backing away from him the few steps you were able. “I don’t know what you want.”

“What I want!” Starscream spat hatefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Starscream shook his head disgustedly and turned away from you; he couldn’t even look at you as he admitted what it was that he needed from you.

“Those idiot Vehicons… They say you make people feel better. So, do it!”

“I…” You faltered, uncertain of how you of all people could make this 15-foot robot happier. You yourself weren’t even a person anymore. You were a pet, and a plaything; a songbird for those who needed to be entertained.

Annoyed, you took off the collar you were forced to wear and threw it at him. It hit with a small ping and though he didn’t really feel it, he turned and glowered at the collar on the floor.

“What is this?” He seethed.

“YOU THINK YOU’VE GOT IT BAD? I’M JUST YOUR STUPID PET. YOU COME COMPLAINING TO ME, EXPECTING ME TO FIX YOUR PROBLEMS. WHY SHOULD I? YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW MY NAME!”

To your surprise, Starscream deflated. It seemed that he couldn’t even get the ship’s mascot to obey him.

“Get out,” He ordered half-heartedly.

You glanced down from the side of the tabletop, but before you could try to jump, Starscream seemed to change his mind.

“Wait,” He commanded.

You froze where you were, tired and scared after your outburst.

“What is your name, human?”

“(Y/N),” You breathed, amazed at the sudden change in Starscream’s demeanour.

Starscream approached you and held out his servo. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your cell.”

Reluctantly, you climbed aboard Starscream’s open palm. You didn’t want to go back to your cell, but you also didn’t wish to push him further in case he decided you weren’t worth the effort of keeping.

Before Starscream could leave his room, you apologised.

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t make you feel better.”

Starscream sighed, “Me too, human. Me too.”

The day after that, you were taken to Knockout for a doctor’s examination. He didn’t seem impressed to be working on a human without torturing it, but he complied with the job anyway and actually treated you courteously.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked.

“Because you’ve become a beloved fixture of this ship, and you really can rock a guitar,” Knockout replied suavely.

“I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do. Look, take it as a good thing. You’ve wormed your way into the crew’s sparks. We Cybertronians bond with very few creatures, scrap, we barely even bond with each other – too many losses in war, and all that. But you? Well, it’s become a superstition that when bots spend a bit of time with you, they survive their next battle. It’s all a myth, of course. I’ve charted the statistics myself, but those who do survive don’t tend to count the fallen.”

“So… I’m going to stay here forever?” You asked hollowly.

“Indefinitely. But hey, look on the bright side.”

“What do I possibly have to look forward to?” You asked bitterly.

“The crew has finally started calling you by your name.”

With that, Knockout flicked a brand-new collar at you. It was red leather and on one side of the golden tag was your real name, on the other was the Decepticon logo.

“Oh, and you do have to wear that by the way. It has a new tracking device in it so we can’t lose you.”

“No!” You said defiantly, throwing it to the far end of the berth.

Knockout picked it up and forced it into your hands. “If you don’t, I’ll just insert the tracker under your skin.”

You fully believed him and though you glowered at him, you put the collar on, gasping as an electric current passed through you, delivering a nasty shock until you had finished with the clasp. You whimpered and wiped involuntary tears away.

Knockout put a clawed digit under your chin and forced you to look at him. “I’d keep that pain in mind. You’ll get an even worse shock if you try to remove your collar again.”

You pulled away from him, only making matters worse as you tripped backwards and fell from the table.

“Oof, so feisty,” Knockout laughed as he caught you. “I do so love a pet that fights back.”

To add insult to injury, he kissed the top of your head and reiterated how much of a good pet you were.

The only good part of the day was when a Vehicon entered the room, having won the right to take you back to your cell. When you got there, you saw Starscream ordering several foot soldiers to hurry up and finish their work. You glanced into your cell and saw that it had been properly furnished, with a real human bed, and a private walled-off area which you later learned was now the bathroom so you could have privacy; it also had most of the general amenities of human life.

He caught you staring at him and snapped, “Thank Soundwave for the gifts. He seems to like that noise you make.”

As Starscream left, you thought you saw the faint hint of a blush. While it was likely that Soundwave was responsible for commissioning the new layout of your room, you had a feeling it had more to do with the silver seeker.

Indeed, your life was a horrible string of embarrassing torments and being treated like an animal. Yet, you hoped that if you could keep things up, you might be able to go from pampered pet to freed prisoner. You only hoped that the Decepticons wouldn’t get bored of you before then.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tfp #transformers prime #starscream #megatron #knockout #vehicons

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