#VERSE NAME PENDING

[silverymusings]

@lastflowerpetal and some zombie apocalypse owo

Last week, he wouldn't have guessed he'd be heading back this way.

Less so would he have ever thought he'd be doing so alongside someone else.

His eye flickered over the woman - yeah, she was still there... - before returning to the dilapidated road before them.

They'd made good progress. Still, it would be dark soon - which meant that progress would have to stop for the day.

"I'm gonna look for shelter," he mused aloud, lazily raising one hand before shouldering his bag and hopping up onto the cracked sidewalk.

There were quite a few buildings around, in varying states of decay. Luckily, some were intact enough to keep out unwanted solicitors during the night...so long as they weren't currently crawling with them, at least.

One in particular looked more promising than the rest. He leaned near one of the windows, peeking through and attempting to make out any humanoid shapes or signs of movement.

[apocketfullofmuses]

@halliwellauto | plotted thing for Aiden and the boys

Sometimes, no matter how well planned they were, missions went wrong; it was something they all knew, and they all carried in the back of their minds - that one day they might be the one who doesn't make it home. None of that made it any easier on a team when it happened, of course. This time it had been the team Steve and Bucky were leading; all it had taken was one mistake, one rogue assailant and a bullet none of them had seen coming. Now a promising young SHIELD agent was gone, one the two super soldiers had gotten to know reasonably well in the time that they'd know him, which was why they were about to knock on his apartment door.

"You sure about this, Steve?" Bucky quietly asked his boyfriend, before the blond knocked on the door.

"You think it would be better coming from some SHIELD officer? We owe it to him, Buck - and to her." With that, Steve knocked softly at the door. Neither of them had met Aiden before, but they'd heard plenty about her; the young agent had talked their ears off about how wonderful his wife was - they'd even celebrated with him when he'd told them he was going to be a father. That only made what they had to do all the harder.

When the door opened, it was Steve, again, who took the lead. "Ma'am, I'm Steve Rogers, this is Bucky Barnes - we work with your husband ... can - can we step inside?"

[ooh-ouch-me-bones]

@starsandkindness reblogged for a Nomu AU starter

Ever since Kamino, Katsuki had been restless. Like he wasn’t where he belonged. He didn’t remember the rescue at all - part of him still felt like it was back there in that bar.

So he had started taking long walks at night, after everyone else in the dorms had gone to bed, thinking that might burn off some of the ungodly anxiety bubbling inside him.

Of course, that plan failed when he stopped paying attention to where he was walking and ran right into someone. “Wh-?! Fuck, really? Watch where you’re going!”

[mxndwitch]

Fall had faded into winter, then spring. Months passed, in which Westview rebuilt and life went back to normal in the small town that Wanda had called home for a few, short weeks. She understood that she was being hunted, wanted for all the criminal charges held against her, beginning with breaking the Sokovian Accords and ending with what she had done in Westview. But she still couldn’t help returning, every once in a while. Only at night, when every soul was asleep and she could sit amidst the ruins of what had been the happiest place for her. This house had been a home, where everything she ever wanted came alive. She understood that it had always been destined to end one day, but she longed for the comfort it had given her. And while she studied the darkhold far up in the north, her heart still belonged to this place of earth where life had been more than just survival.

Sometimes, she ventured deeper back into the real world, to check up on the people she had left behind. She tried to find the Vision Hayward had restored, but understood that he had to search for himself first. Now that she had become the Scarlet Witch, it was no problem anymore for her to remain unnoticed and invisible to the people around her, so she could make sure that everyone she knew was safe. It didn’t happen often that Wanda left her new found solitude, but when she did, she enjoyed soaring high above the cities she had traveled, feeling the hearts and souls of millions of people. Tonight, she sought out someone specific, as she landed quietly in front of the S.W.O.R.D. headquarters, her suit vanishing with a flick of her finger, melting into simple black clothes. The person she has come to visit, just left the complex, exactly like Wanda had predicted. Hands in the pockets of her coat, she silently approached, stepping out into the light from behind a fountain. “Hello Monica.”

             @krossbred​ liked for a starter for Monica

[failedhero-archive]

“You say something?” It’s been three years since Sam’s death. Dean still isn’t over it. Felicia was there when it happened, she’s helped him through it in ways he can’t even vocalize. To thank her for all she’s done would take- well- the rest of his life. 

So when they go out to eat Dean expects her to be treated a certain way. Certainly not spoken down to. Both of them looked at oddly. Dean doesn’t care why. Doesn’t matter. “C’mere” at this point the waitstaff of the bar he co-owns (to wash the money earned elsewhere) are shrinking back to the kitchen area as this new waiter walks forward. Reaching the table where Felicia and Dean sit. 

Taking the steak knife from his dinner plate the hunter turned king pin stabs it through waiters hand when palm rests on the table. “You’re new. You get the benefit. Apologize or this-” he twists the handle “-goes somewhere else.” 

[wjmoriarty]

         ⌜ ♔ ⌟  —  THE SOUND OF RAIN HITTING THE COBBLESTONE pavement was nearly deafening as William wove his way back onto the lamp-lit streets of London from the cities dark back-alley’s and crooked lanes with a graceful ease that spoke testaments to exactly just how comfortable he was walking among the thieves and conmen that usually emerged to haunt the underground of town about this hour.

         ‘Haunted’ of course, being the word of the day as William looks down to the small split-hide bag of cat’s eye shells he has clutched in his hand once more out of reflex. The shadows haunting the manor had been becoming very... active as of late. Always there in the darkness of the estate was a whispering voice or flickering candle or inappropriately moved trinket from one side of the room to another and the recent unrest seemed to be entirely due to the ever-increasing hours William spent in the company of London’s self-proclaimed consulting detective and resident supernatural specialist, Sherlock Holmes. 

         A sigh escapes past his lips as at the thought as William spares a quick glance down the empty road before darting across to at least try and reach Marleybone at a reasonable hour. Really and truly he was by no means the type to make house calls like this but he’d grown far too concerned to sit around and simply wait for the detective to come to him and because William had heard himself of the danger. Because after listening in on the muttered prayers of a priest whose clerical collar was stained bright vermillion in the echo of what’d happened to him, Sherlock’s name had very clearly been uttered among and between the stilted repetitions of Ave Maria. Any name of the living being spoken by one of the dead was a very foul omen, and while with the kind of work he and Sherlock did this wouldn't have been an event entirely out of the ordinary, it only added fuel to an already burning suspicion of impending danger. 

         It was no secret to William that Sherlock was a hunted and wide open target for the many things that crawled hidden within the darkness of these streets, but it did concern him that even when visiting the Moriarty estate, where William himself had placed countless wards and charms for staving off unwanted energies, Sherlock could still be stalked so relentlessly. 

         And so, in the end, it was a combination of anxiety for Sherlock’s wellbeing that William was still starkly refusing to acknowledge existed and the easy excuse he had on hand today to use when dropping by that’d compelled him to slip out of the London manor today and go fix the problem himself of Sherlock’s ‘wide open target’ status. 

         There’d been a case in the papers today; subtle, as it’d apparently been deemed so disinteresting that it only occupied a single sliver of margin in tiny newspaper print. Not William’s doing (this time at least), far too messy and amateur but it had alluded in every way to the existence of a vengeful spirit striking back in the only way it knew how: violence. So it was a rather fair guess to make and just about a sure thing that Sherlock was currently pouring over the details of this case in the dry and warm comfort of 221b. And of course, even if he wasn’t, offhandedly mentioning the article would be a sure way to throw a red herring into the path of the real reason William had taken it upon himself to see Sherlock as quickly as possible.

         The deceased clergyman’s words were still bothering him, still echoing the traces of a plot and the mere idea of a potentially moving conspiracy against Sherlock was more than enough to set him on edge but then remembering that confronting those shadows was exactly was Sherlock did as livelihood... well. Making the trip to deliver some powerful wards and a homemade handbag of protections even through an evolving rainstorm was a small price to pay to ensure that Sherlock’s fate remained in his hands and his alone.

         Besides, William reminded himself as he spotted lamps adorning 221b, doing favors for one another were what friends did. So instead of coming off as an overly anxious man with hidden knowledge any ‘small practitioner’ shouldn’t be able to have, he appears simply as the ever-concerned companion making a quick drop off in the name of safety while just happening through this part of town in search of sparrow hearts and dried lemongrass.  

         William’s granted access into the apartment building in all but a heartbeat, finally relieved from the rain that he’d stubbornly believed earlier in the evening that he could out-run. The bag of cat eye’s clink in his hand as he makes his way up the stairs to his destination, Sherlock’s name already on his lips as he breaches the threshold of 221b.

“Sherlock,” he greets with a smile, taking his hat off to brush the wet bangs back and away from his face, “I certainly hope you don’t mind me dropping by at this hour.”

@holmesed*  //  s.c

[aetherhealingagent]

Today was a good day surprisingly, so accept a super cute au concept + fanart!

@magma-mouse

Kiwi is a mouse, obviously. And Fishel is a weasel,

@spectral-speaker-violet

I put Spook as a crow/raven/preferred black bird, with fangs for reasons. And Violet is a black cat.

[apocketfullofmuses]

@heroicpaths | Alex & Jack (jack lived AU)

For six months he'd gone back and forth on what to do; since he'd found his Mom's letter everything had changed. His whole life he'd thought his Dad had died before he was born, but that was lie; all this time Jack Murdock had been living in Hell's Kitchen, not knowing he had a son - another son. Alex hadn't know he had a father and an older brother. The letter had explained his Mom's reason for not telling him, and he understood that - his Mom had loved him more than anyone else ever could have, and he didn't doubt she'd thought she was doing the best for him - but it still hurt.

So now here he was, knocking on Jack Murdock's door, and about to tell him who he was.

"Jack Murdock?" For all he knew the man didn't even live here anymore, so it was a relief when Jack answered. "I - you don't know me but ... you knew my Mom, Susie Linwood." Pulling his mother's letter out of his bag, Alex unfolded it and held it out for Jack. "It'll probably be easier to just read this ... My name's Alex."

[fulgurae-blog]

DO NOT REBLOG. 

I blame my convo with @potestasaeterna last night. You enabler. : ( 

[xcrematedx]

❝ You fainted. You looked right at me and blacked out. Do you still believe you’re okay? ❞ -icestormiisms

“I-” Touya didn’t want to lie to their mother, but the thought of how much it would hurt her to know the full truth made them hesitate. Especially because they knew she would blame herself for it. That was the last thing they needed. After everything else, the last thing she needed was something more to feel guilty over. Even though this was all their own fault. They knew this. They’d had their school career hampered by coming and going out of treatment meant to fix this. But it had come back with a vengeance, before they’d known what hit them.

“I guess I haven’t been great at taking my seizure meds lately. No big deal.” They both knew that wasn’t what it was. It was incredibly obvious just by looking at them.

[steelunderneath]

are you drunk? (iDKKKK)

            she had not intended on guzzling so much wine at dinner, yet, in a room filled with lions it was hard to deny any escape that would ease her FEARSOME heart. the last time she had sat amongst lions she had seen a boy KING claw his throat to RUIN as he died. having never much cared for wine in her YOUTH, it took only three and a half glasses before her head began to swim. eyes were beginning to grow lazy, and no longer was she listening to the constant chatter of the kings and queens sat beside her. body begins to sway back and forth, though she hated how CLOUDY the wine made her mind, she could not fault it’s ability to soften the emotions threatening to surge inside her.              once again trapped within a DEN of lions. to be imprisoned in the form of MARRIAGE.                                  -shackled by hands, feet and name. even so, they could never change her heart. the voice of the lion beside her causes a small jump from her shoulders, the goblet is lowered from her lips, eyes now glancing over the high king beside her. though she looks towards his bright eyes, she can not help but note the head of the lion upon his capes CLASP. the words turn to poison in her mouth, ❝ and I should gladly drink more, your grace. should it help me to escape this NIGHTMARE ❞

meme: random angst memesstatus: accepting !!@mcgniificent

[attrcversiamoarchived-blog]

“please… i’m scared.”(ofpuresouls. finn/shay. back from dead verse)

bruh | | accepting

❛     i — i’m —     ❜     he closed his eyes, trying to remember what to do. he didn’t want this to happen. not in front of her. not like this. but the sudden and loud sounds, they got to him. and he hadn’t even realized he was practically falling apart until he had heard her voice, bringing him back to reality, even if it was only a little. he looked over at her, taking a deep breathe, in and out, his hand squeezing hers hard.

[crowninglaurel-blog]

superheroes verse: crossover with marvel/mcu, dc/vertigo. An heiress to the Greengrass fortune, Daphne is the successor to a long line of powerful magic users, a quiet little fact which she refrains from publicizing. In her public life, she's made a name for herseld as the lawyer and fixer for prominent figures in the super community.

[apocketfullofmuses]

@heroicpaths | Alex & Matt

After a couple of days in Hell's Kitchen, Alex wasn't much further on in his search for more information about his Dad than he had been back in Boston; most people who'd even answered his questions said the same things, that Jack Murdock was either a good guy and a good boxer, or a bum. The one person who could probably help him was the one he was the most nervous about meeting. He'd almost called his office, hanging up before anyone answered; he'd even gone over there, but couldn't bring himself to go in.

A few people had told him that Jack's son could sometimes be found at a bar called Josies, and decided that he'd been putting it off for long enough, Alex shoved his Mom's letter into his bag and headed for the bar in question - at least he could get a drink to steady his nerves.

He'd seen Matthew Murdock's picture in a couple of newspaper articles about his law firm, so he recognized him right away - admittedly it'd be hard to miss the only blind guy in the bar - but he needed to get that drink first. With a beer in hand, Alex moved to the end of the bar. "Are - Are you Matthew Murdock? My name's Alex Linwood, and I need to talk to you about you father, Jack - I think .. well I know he was my father, too."

[ourladyclaire]

“Who did this?”

  {{  Send “Who did this?” for your muse to discover my muse with a black eye or a busted lip  }}

      Claire lets out a low, raspy chuckle,      running a finger over her sore cheekbone.

          “ So this girl comes into the emergency room, right?                 Fucked up to HIGH HEAVEN on something she                 took on Omega, which, luckily her friend was there                 to tell us. Slow-acting,  extremely  bad trip.  Her                 fever’s so bad she’s delirious but surprisingly, like,                 REALLY jacked and naturally starts taking swings                 at us nurses. MORAL OF THE STORY IS:

                     -   don’t drink shit that human immune systems                             aren’t meant to process.                     -   don’t fucking take anything on Omega. ”

[xlivestogo-archive-blog]

{{ blightbound }}

   “If I tell you that you shouldn’t be here, you mustn’t take it as       consternation. After all, one might argue that you have defied       the wishes of many simply by continuing to BE at all.”