#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.

[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 (:

[felixravinstills]

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

[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.

[oflorien]

FROM HERE. @ondothlim

AT  LONG  LAST,  BOLDNESS  BECOMES  HER.  too  long  spent  suffering  with  idle  hands  that  longed  to  touch,  a  heart  that  fluttered  without  end  in  torment.  he  had  never  denied  her  anything.  if  loyalty  could  be  crafted  it  would  manifest  itself  as  the  unflinching  guardian  beneath  her  heated  writhe.  fraying  nerves  melted  beneath  the  sound  of  her  name,  by  the  calloused  palms  that  found  their  place.  the  sweetest  sound  uttered  in  reflection  of  her  own  ache,  where  it  sits  notched  between  ribs  and  fëa.  ❛ amarthdír  -❜  a  sinful  melody  that  preens  against  his  temple,  fingertips  woven  into  soft  inky  hair.  no  force  holds  her  back,  rhythmic  motions  were  akin  to  a  divine  dance  of  her  hips  against  the  rut.

he  is  all  she  wants.  centuries  in  the  making,  a  silver  fire  burns  bright  in  the  depths  of  her  heart.  it  spills  like  spiced  honey  dripping  from  her  lips  in  a  song  of  ragged  breath  and  desperate  little  moans.  frantic  motions,  hands  entrenched  in  his  hair,  drift  to  the  broadness  of  his  shoulders.  her  head  tilted  back,  offering  her  throat  as  a  tribute  to  his  long-suffering  post  at  her  side.  but  when  his  lips  find  hers,  she  understands  reprieve  for  the  first  time.  to  have  hungered  in  her  soul  to  the  point  of  starvation  set  free  by  the  taste  of  his  lips  upon  hers.  roll  of  hips,  a  whimper  suffocated  by  embrace...a  point  without  return.  how  could  one  return  to  desolation  once  they  had  tasted  devotion?

and  yet,  something  was  terribly  wrong.  trepidation?  hesitation?  a  cloud  that  looms  over  his  light.  broken  kiss  and  her  beloved  protector  hidden  in  the  curve  of  her  neck.  HIS  HEART  ECHOED  LIKE  A  THUNDERING  STORM  and  she  cradled  him  there.  attempting  a  shadow  of  his  depth  for  steadfastness.  ❛ did  i  do  something  wrong?  ❜  panic  seized  her  heart,  her  thoughts  racing  in  turn.  strange  it  was  as  the  texture  of  silk  beneath  her  soothing  touch  felt  different.  her  name  does  not  sound  the  same  as  it  once  did.  celebrían  slowly  unravels  back  (  but  she  does  not  shuffle  back  from  her  place  entirely  ).

golden  eyes  wear  too  much  within  them.  every�� thought  that  flickers  as  enchantments  might;  bewilderment,  disbelief,  the  briefest  hue  of  betrayal  until  the  silver  maiden  shakes  her  head.  pads  of  fingertips  fixed  upon  a  shortened  curl  as  it  twirls  around  a  digit.  ❛ i  don't  understand.  ❜  voice  shattered  from  longing  now  holds  the  weight  of  the  moment.  his  scent  is  the  same,  he  feels  the  same,  and  her  love  is  the  same,  but  he  is  entirely  changed.

[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. ❜

[flowersfortheghost]

two words: ghostflower coded

[melpomeneprose]

𝚃𝚈𝙿𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙰𝚂 𝙱𝙸𝚁𝙳𝚂.

repost, don’t reblog. bold whatever applies all the time, italicize the ones that are circumstantial.

Eurydice, a hungry young girl, a runaway from everywhere she’d ever been, no stranger to the world, no stranger to the wind.

Eurydice-> Εὐρυδ��κη (Greek) -> literally translating to -> “Wide Justice.”

Songbird vs rattlesnake.

sparrow.     innocence, big dreamer, waking up too early, walking home, being afraid of meeting new people, slim hands, always cold, reading a book under a tree, the smell of the forest, missing your home.

eagle.   independent, caring too much for others, sharp looks, walking down the city late at night, the tallest and more spectacular building, iron, being single and okay in a world that tells you that being single is bad.

swift.     falling in love easily and heavily, traveller, the infinity of the bluest sky, storms, broken smiles, forgetting people who used to be your beloved ones, feeling out of place, mistrusting people, a fleeting romance.

crow.     feeling as if you have seen so much and as if you know a lot, prejudge, tight hugs that leave you breathless, a grey sky, serenity, intelligence, being left behind, chains, smoke, the pride of someone wise.

dove.      petals, jealousy, being tired of living with the same old faces, whispered secrets, marble, sundresses, white clothes, the first sunset of winter, pride in who you are, learning to get over someone.

seagull.     family, golden light, the sea murmuring in your ear, summer afternoons, caramel ice cream, collecting seashells and other things and calling them treasures, living breezy and carefree, swimming in sunlight.

canary.       artistic, getting excited easily, dancing and singing while you are alone, looking at your friends having fun, no phone, being afraid of judgement, spring, a meaningful gift, the first ray of sunlight.

Borrowed from: @honorhearted. 💕

Tagging: @audaciiae (Apollo), @lifedreamt (your choice), @curseconsumed (your choice), & @ladyseidr (Orpheus). 💕

[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!

[enterpainment]

「 @universestreasures | Ruri Kurosaki 」 issued a challenge:

Ruri falls asleep on Yuto’s shoulder. What does he do? (Nobles Of Nature AU)

They had just been enjoying yet another peaceful day outside the manor where it was quiet for the most part. Yuto was listening to Ruri talk about this and that about anything and nothing at all, really, they were simply just enjoying each others company. 

It was moments like these that set Yuto apart from his brothers, who all seemed to never slow down. But perhaps that had been Ruri’s fault. She had something about her that just quelled the raging storm that inhabited Yuto’s very being. Ever since he found himself put at her side he hasn’t felt that unbridled rage, or need for destruction bubble up to the surface. 

He was.... at ease, by Ruri’s side, he found. 

And it seemed she was as well; as evident by the soft sound of Ruri breathing gently near his ear. He’s not sure when their conversation had dropped off, but she must have still been in the beginning stages of rest. So he sat there, still as a statue, not wishing to disturb her. She must have been exhausted to fall asleep sitting up like this... Yuto knows exactly how hard she’s been worked since being assigned to her. Ruri, like Yuto, were both still very new to this lifestyle. It wasn’t easy, that was for sure.

❝ ......! ❞

That's when he realizes just what sort of position they were in. Like this--- Like this they looked like--

He had to fight the urge to try shaking himself clear of the thought, lest the movement startle her.

But Yuto couldn't help but feel a little anxious, as if he was doing something wrong. But... another part of him felt... happy? That someone as kind and gentle as Ruri could feel comfortable enough to fall asleep next to him.... It was almost like, for a short moment, he wasn't the destructive monster he had been painted to be.

Eventually the sensible part of him considers waking her up. to suggest resting in her chambers rather than on his shoulder. Another part of him wants to risk moving so she could lay down on the bench to rest a bit more properly at the very least, but he knows she’d refuse to make Yuto move for her alone.

His only option then was to provide her with the best rest he could provide, even if he didn’t think he could possibly be very comfortable to lay on like this. As he sat there though, he finds himself also growing increasingly tired as well... ...... .......... ................ If only........... If only the beating of his heart would calm, just a little, perhaps he would have taken the silent invitation to nap under the last light of the late afternoon sun alongside her.

But as it stood he could only just sit there; his face aflame and chest about ready to burst, for the duration of her nap before they'd eventually have to head back in as the temperature fell with the rise of the moon. -

[fabulous-wellmeaning-lunatic]

intro

greetings & salutations! haven't been active here in awhile so I thought I'd make an intro.

bio

~ artist, writer, photographer

~ '07

~ agender & queer, she/it/he

~ autism

I contain multitudes (interests)

music

~ taylor swift

~ lorde

~ halsey

~ neutral milk hotel

~ fiona apple

~ spotify

tv shows & movies

cartoons

~ gravity falls

~ hhineas & ferb

~ avatar the last airbender

~ over the garden wall

~ my little pony

~ spiderverse

~ studio ghibli

~ bojack horseman

~ beastars

live action

~ the queen's gambit

~ the end of the f***ing world

~ the marvelous mrs. maisel

~ gossip girl

~ parks & recreation

~ the hunger games

~ heathers

~ wes anderson

misc.

~ don't hug me I'm scared

~ audrey hepburn

~ animal crossing

~ the sims

[carnivoraformes]

@shrineofprophecy liked for a short starter! || Status: Accepting

Being out and about like this when she was 'in hiding' felt utterly wrong. No one recognized her with her hair tied back and wings hidden uncomfortably by a beanie and adorned in clothes that the Family would have never allowed her to wear. She could just hear scolding from a formless voice by her ear. 'Those clothes are to revealing' and 'you are a beautiful song bird you should not dress like a common harlot'.

"Are you sure this is alright? What if someone recognizes me?"

[creativedifferencespodcast]

Happy New Year! It’s time for our annual Year In Review, and we’re starting off with our favorite movies of 2023! And despite the best efforts of technical difficulties, we got all four of us in the episode! Is Cassie beating the horror fan allegations with her list? Did Barbenheimer hit our lists like it hit the box office? And is there a chance of Across the Spider-Verse not being the unanimous number one pick? Press play and find out as we talk about the best of the year! You can also find us on Spotify and Apple Podcasts!