#Songbird verse

[colleenmurphy]

@aristobun just read your post about Helene and this..this is what Col and Charlie came up with. They think the world of Hel and would love to have her at The Cabin as long as she'd like to stay.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him."

Was all Colleen could mutter as she grabbed her car keys and her Afghan coat from their respective hooks. Her pack of three misfit pups that she and Charlie called The Wild Bunch, followed her every move. Except Red, her steadfast protector and wedding gift from Charlie and the most handsome bloodhound Col had ever seen. He was sitting much like a statue perched on his usual spot in the papasan chair Col usually read in the evening by the fireplace.

"C'mon Red, we've got business to tend to."

Was all she said as Red popped up by her right side. Smiling she reached down and scratched him behind the ears. Red was not only loyal but insanely smart, more so than the average hound. Given his working breed size and his ability to respond to commands his training had gone very well. He also loathed Joel Benson as much as she and Charlie did.

"Who's Mama's good boy? You are, Red, you are."

She hooked his leash up to his collar, grabbed her purse and made it out to the Plymouth just Charlie was coming back from the chicken coop as he cocked his head to the side as he spotted Red in the passenger seat of the car that Col used on rescue missions. He had painted it flat black for her and it purred low so it couldn't be detected from a block or two away. After her last run in with that Benson boy, as Charlie had often thought of his wife's best friend's boyfriend, and he had to reinforce her front and back bumpers. She'd done a heap of damage to Joel's Datsun the last time she'd seen him. She herself had done a number on the hood with a crowbar. The Datsun symbol hangs proudly in the recording studio right over the door. A few other bands had added hood ornaments of their own but didn't know the real reason why it was there.

"Georgia...what're you doin'?"

His use of her nickname almost threw from the task at hand. She was angry and it felt she was running out of time.

"I've got something to take care of, he's helping. You can come if you want to."

Charlie knew deep down in his gut what his wife was planning, it was a long time coming but if she felt that now was time, it was the time. The Plymouth roared to life, it almost sounded as if the damn car was growling. He had never seen the look in his wife's eyes, that's when he knew for certain without a doubt that Joel Benson was a marked man tonight. Shooing Red to move over in the bench seat Charlie plopped himself down. She was going to need help bugger lugging the bastard to his final resting place.

"You got a full tank of gas in this thing...right, Georgia?"

"Yes, I do. Buckle up."

She no sooner heard the click of the lap belt and gravel sprayed out behind them as they took off from their piece of paradise on the mountain.

Thirty minutes later Joel Benson was running for his life through the very same holler that they had just left. He had no way knowing that his ex girlfriend's best friend and her husband owned a literal mountain in the middle of nowhere bumblefuck. They were artists or some horseshit. Real hippy dippy pacifist type. They clearly were not, he'd been all knocked out with something heavy and shoved in a trunk. When he'd come to he was laying out in the middle of the dirt road. The only thing that got him to come to was the kick to the ribs he'd gotten from the dopey looking blonde Col was married to.

"G'on and get up, Boy."

"Who the fuck are you calling, boy?"

Church bells and stars flooded his head and vision as Col got a sound smack in with her booted foot. That bitch always seemed to be wearing cowboy boots. Bending down she was eye to eye with him. Enemy to enemy and Joel was tempted to smash her pretty little Irish face in but Col was quicker as she grabbed him by the throat, her nails digging in. Humming softly she sang in his ear

"Hope you got your things together Hope you are quite prepared to die Looks like we're in for nasty weather One eye is taken for an eye"

Goosebumps erupted across his flesh as it hit him. This crazy bitch was going to actually try and kill him.

"You're insane. You're both insane. You'll never get away with this."

"What's insane to me is beating the woman you claim to love. Repeatedly. Now, it's either you get and play by my rules or I put you down right now and leave you."

Joel studied Colleen for a moment. Helene has known her her entire life and had a million tales of how much they had stuck by one another. Maybe this crazy Irish bitch meant it. The way she stood tall and proud, her legs long and lean shoulders back and features schooled hard at him. Her long dark hair whipped by the wind and the white fur trim around her jacket clashed. He watched as she walked around the trunk of her car while her husband went to the back passenger side and grabbed the leash on something massive and red. Colleen came back around this time with a lantern tucked in the crook of her right arm and in her left was a shotgun. Charlie, or at least that's what he thought his name was, lurched forward as the impossibly red dog lunged forward snapped at him teeth barred. Inching backwards Joel got to his feet. Col was passed the leash as Charlie took the lantern and lit it with nimble fingers.

"Oh look! Joel's actually being a good sport about something for once in his life."

"Oh fuck you you crazy bitch."

A warning shot was fired just over his left shoulder, his eyes bugged as he tried to run. Somebody had tied his laces together.

"Good eye on the laces, Wilbury."

A small smile spread across Charlie's face.

"Thought it'd be funny."

"It's fucking not!"

"Is to us. Just like that time when you busted Hel's lip, right?"

Another shot this time by his feet inching him backwards.

"Get up and run like the coward you are, Benson. I feel like hunting for something."

The dog at the end of the leash bayed at the moon and lunged for him again. Teeth snapping at his pants grabbing onto it taking him down at the knees.

"Jesus Christ! Call him off!"

"Only if you run. Feel how she felt."

With a snap of her fingers the hellhound was called off and it and it's owners were back in that god forsaken Plymouth. A low growl was heard as it roared to life. It was coming right straight for him. Doing the only sensible thing his mind knew to do Joel Benson ran in a zig zag pattern but wasn't quick enough as the front bumper clipped him causing him to stumble. The crack of gunshots behind him made his heart hammer and his stomach knot up. All those times he'd come home and caused holy hell in the home he had shared with Helene had now knew. He knew what it was like to be terrified for your own life. Another gunshot, another howl from the dog with it's head hanging out the back driver's side window.

"Jesus Christ I'm sorry."

"Don't go callin' on people that don't know you, Benson!"

Was all he heard before his feet went out underneath him. Of course it just had to be Colleen fucking Murphy's voice. He went airborne for one slow sickening minute and he saw now earth or road beneath his feet.

'This must be how that stupid coyote feels when it's bested by that road runner.'

He thought to himself as he free fell over an open patch of earth and down into the embankment below. He'd no sooner made contact with the ground, excruciatingly so, as he had broken both ankles and dislocated his left knee. He was almost positive he had broken his right arm and hit a rock head first on the way down. His body went limp as it heard footsteps and growls. He was only semi conscious when Red bit down on the hand that tried in vain to strike out at him with a rock.

"You're a real piece of work ain't you?"

"F-ffkk 'oouu."

Those were Joel's last words as he parted ways with the mortal coil he had terrorized for much of his life. He was not searched for, or missed. His disappearance wasn't much of a footnote in time either. Much like his grave, Joel Benson will never be found. Charlie and Colleen made doubly sure of that, right before they donated that little stretch of land to the national park service so it wouldn't be disturbed.

[felixravinstills]

Based on the romeblr one that gets reblogged every week to my dash.

[darthnell]

New THG Discord link !

We've updated the tumblr link for SYOT Verses Discord (the old one will not work anymore). Might as well make a new post too! If you're into The Hunger Games, especially OCs, this is the place for you :D

SYOT Verses is a pretty active thg fanfiction community for Submit Your Own Tribute stories and OC fics. While we welcome authors and readers of all kinds, our server and its programming are specifically geared towards Hunger Games SYOTs and OCs! If that sounds appealing to you, feel free to join ! We’re always looking to see some new faces (:

[dragonskxn]

80s Opera singer AU doodles!

[thebirdandhersong]

I'm not gonna lie: the girlbossification of Robin Hood and the fact that they put her in medieval Korea as a nobleman's widow in confinement is so intriguing to me

[oflorien]

𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐒  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒  𝐈𝐍  𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒.  each  one  deepens  a  hue  of  bashful  rose  upon  moonlit  features.  a  second-guessing,  a  manner  of  speech  and  enthusiasm  she  fears  may  be  far  too  consuming.  not  can  be  contained,  decades  of  stories  passed  upon  her  pointed  ears;  that  he,  @elr0nds  among  the  most  brilliant  minds,  a  warrior  the  enemy  despised  and  feared  —  a  herald  that  embodies  the  kindness  of  summer's  breeze.  she  still  held  a  parcel  against  her  chest,  one  bound  in  lórinand  and  meant  as  a  gift.  her  gaze  lingers  upon  him  as  if  no  tide  could  sway  the  glance  of  glittering  gold,  an  inhale  taken;  sharp  and  anxious.  ❛ do  you  always  trust  your  first  initial  feeling?  ❜  one  of  many  questions  she'd  gathered  for  him.  a  fluster  within,  pouring  over  details  those  who  knew  him  well  seemed  to  leave  from  tales  woven  of  his  exploits  and  wit.

CRYSTAL // stevie nicks. 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂 // 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

[the-butternut-tree]

if i had a nickel for every time this year i was watching a movie and had to tune out for a second while i figured out why some guy sounded so familiar and it was jason schwartzman i would have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

[hotelbitches]

post canon, when lilith's allowed to return to hell, she's very different. she's always been a social creature while in hell, almost constantly spending time with other people, even if it was with the people that worked for her. not to mention having lucifer and charlie.

the seven years in almost complete isolation apart from interacting with adam, and very rarely, lute were extremely damaging to her. since the moment she was created, she had someone. even when she was in hell, she was comforted by the fact that hell was also alive, watching her. to have all of that abruptly taken from her to be forced to only spend time with the man she'd been planning on killing is shattering. if lucifer accepts her back, she spends the first night home on the floor, holding him, and crying. it takes several months before she can go out in public, and even longer for her to get used to having all eyes on her.

[snowbirds-and-snakelets]

is this a safe space to say that my problematic crush was never coriolanus but dr gaul or should that have stayed in the drafts. she’s captivating and cruel and godawful and for some reason that appeals to me. evil scientists are my fucking kryptonite

[spiteriisen]

@passionfell asked : 6. defending the other muse verbally ( avelin & ankita )

Avelin isn't meant to get so close to the action.

He's never the man on the front line, never the one locked in enemy sights-- a side effect of his nature, harder to pin down than the breeze itself. He keeps himself back, avoids making himself a target, and when tables turn, he's the first to cut and run.

He's always prioritized self-preservation, no matter whose side he leaves behind in doing so.

So then, why is he close enough now to smell the burnt flesh of Alwin's arms, bite wounds scorched into cauterized scarring by the flames of the root hounds' jaws? Why is he close enough to see the tearstained faces of the family ushered out from the cottage on which Ankita perches, eyes fixed upon the smoldering horizon as something lumbers closer, sending tremors through the earth beneath them?

A mighty creeeeeak, groan, CRACK fills his ears. The last tree standing in the way between them and whatever monstrous thing is storming towards them sways, bows, and pitches forward, just narrowly missing where Avelin stands with its collapse--

And why, in all the Hells, is he close enough to feel the shower of sparks and embers seer across his skin when it does?

Time seems to grind to a halt as the bard finds himself bathed in the massive shadow of the creature. Its burning, vacant eyes fix upon him, the only target directly within its reach, and his stomach drops. He urges himself to breathe, to move, but he can't-- dark smoke is too thick in his lungs and his time has run out.

The corrupted titan raises an entire tree aloft in its enormous claws, like a club aimed straight for where Avelin stands. His legs go weak, his grip on his bow going slack as every song he's ever drilled into his head flees his memory. He can already feel his bones breaking, can already feel his chest caving in, and the downswing hasn't even begun--

When he hears Ankita's voice carrying from behind him. A rush of magic washes over him towards its target, taking hold in the earth beneath this monstrosity's feet. The grease spell seems to take it by surprise and its hind claws scrabble for purchase to keep it standing, but right before Avelin's eyes the spell seems to thicken. More of the magically conjured substance rises up to slick grass and stone and the twisted colossus falls.

The rest of the battle passes by in a blur of blades and arrows, but even after Alwin deals the finishing blow, after they all work together to quell the fire, even after they nearly get arrested at the city gates, Avelin is stuck back in that moment.

It's not until the group is making their way back to the Emerald Herald with the spoils of their good deed in hand does Avelin manage to form what he truly wants to say.

The bard falls into step beside the wizard, dragging one of his painted nails along the neck of his new mandolin, eyes fixed upon the grain of the wood, the gleam of the strings in the last light of day, anywhere, really, save for straight at Ankita.

" I want you to know that you were... incredible, back there. " The words aren't light, the way Avelin would usually try to make them. They weigh as much as they should, and there's no telling if he's ever meant anything he's ever said to the other man more than he means this. " I know you would have done as much if it were anyone else in my position as well, so don't think I'm reading into things. I've no illusions that you cast with my sake in mind especially, but... I also know that I'd almost certainly be dead if you hadn't. "

[petitsdieu]

sc 𝑓𝑡. @deficd

❛ When I was little, my governess used to bathe me in buttermilk and rose petals. ❜

[dragonskxn]

Mr. And Mrs. Richard and Adeline De La Croix are Annalise's wealthy sponsors, an old money couple whose individual lineages date back to 17th century French nobility. Though they've aged well like fine wine, they are stern, strict, and no-nonsense in business affairs. They are patrons of the arts, often indulging in art galleries, dance recitals, and, of course, opera. Unfortunately for them, their money is starting to become a bit scarce.

They discovered Annalise after visiting a "quaint" little rural French town, deciding then and there to mold her into a star of their own making. With a few strings pulled here and there and a good bit of persuasion, they intend to make it big with their new opera goddess, charming the crowds and maybe even luring in some wealthy business partners, and suitors...

[felixravinstills]

What's your thoughts on the covey? 🤭

I think the Covey are great! I love the love that you can see and feel from the interactions we see between them! And I enjoy reading posts that explore their dynamics, both that familial love and the tension from having to grow up where they are in the world they're in/as outsiders in Twelve.

I don't have too many thoughts on them unfortunately due to severe Ravinstill-Gaul-Mentors brainrot.

I think from a thematic level, I think I was pondering for a bit whether there was some commentary on how (some) Capitol names are Greco-Roman plays/Shakespeare Plays and the Covey names come from ballads and folk music. Kind of conveys this idea that both of them are important. Both are equally valid in connecting with current and past culture, but the former is often considered "high art" in our society and folk music is often not. <- these are of course arbitrary decisions which could be comparable to the Capitol-District divide. (after all, popular culture doesn't see dick jokes as very "high brow/art" but Aristophanes' Lysistrata contains several, and Shakespeare is no stranger to them as well... so yeah, "high art" is an arbitrary descriptor imo that exists of course in our social context)

Anyway, thanks for the ask, Spark!

[oflorien]

FROM. @ondothlim

𝐀  𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘  𝐎𝐅  𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐍  𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃.  so  comes  the  curious  tilt  of  her  head  and  a  brow  quirks  along  with  it,  nose  scrunched  upon  tap.  a  smile  that  cracks  as  the  shining  sun  surely  spells  trouble.  ❛  for  all  you've  stood  against,  and  you  fear  my  mother?  ❜  as  he  should  but  that  does  not  halt  a  cascade  of  laughter  only  halted  by  a  flush  and  palm  over  her  mouth  to  barely  stifle  it.

yet,  she  still  attends  to  hearing  glorfindel,  a  rouse  of  amusement  hung  upon  his  every  word  as  the  truth  begins  to  reveal  itself.  nothing,  not  one  morsel  short  of  mirth  makes  up  her  smile,  knowing  and  playfully  haughty  in  return.  ❛  accidentally  besotted?  ❜  a  chuckle  catches  in  her  throat.  celebrían  reaches  for  a  card,  and  another,  a  host  of  names  all  too  familiar.  ❛  the  very  same  ones  whose  adoration  i  am  forced  to  relay  it  would  seem.  ❜  an  unofficial  emissary  for  every  elleth  enamoured  with  the  hero.

still,  she  concedes.  a  dramatic  little  huff,  her  golden  eyes  peering  up,  finger  to  lips  in  thought.  a  poor  soul  to  inflict  upon  and  one  that  might  be  more  forgiving.  ❛  fine!  but  you  will  owe  me  a  favour  for  this.  ❜  a  voice  soft  as  spring  holds  barely  an  edge  but  she  attempts  it  in  spite.  ❛  keep  an  eye  out  then.  ❜  a  grin  cracks  through  any  illusion  as  the  silver  maiden  shuffles  the  place  cards.  ❛  if  ecthelion  gets  mad,  you  can  blame  it  on  me.  ❜

[flowersfortheghost]

two words: ghostflower coded