#pleinsdemuses

[vvolfstare]

That single word shouldn't have sent a shot of warmth through him. It was more tempting than he would have believed to get to know her better, to maybe let her know him. Bucky knew he was lonely, had been for a very long time, and he knew it was survivable. But god, he was tired of it.

Her eyes were mesmerizing, even if he struggled to concentrate on everything she was saying. It was all nice enough, but Bucky wasn't going to be able to ditch his self-loathing in one conversation, not even under the influence of alcohol. He huffed a quiet laugh, tipping his head back against the wall. "You sound like Steve." The reminder sent a pang of sadness through him, but he quickly shoved it away. He didn't want to think about that right now. He wanted to stay in this warm, happy bubble with her a little while longer.

"Ugh. Never say that again." He grimaced, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. He'd heard all too much about the right partner from Steve and Peggy, and the words very nearly made him gag. If a partner made him forget his friends and his team and… nevermind, not going down that rabbit hole tonight. He thumbed open the music app on his phone and started a song, setting it aside. He hauled himself to his feet and offered her a hand up. "On your feet, soldier. I'll show you how it's done in the 40s."

bucky + lily | battle (cont. from here)

@pleinsdemuses

He'd observed that about Lily, that she had a temper to rival his, although he didn't often see it in action. In the back of his mind, he knew he was being ungrateful, that he probably even owed her a thank you for saving his life, but it was being drowned out by the remnants of panic at thinking she'd been shot. Well, shot worse. He couldn't have another death on his conscience.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn't say anything else as she walked away. He knew himself well enough to know it wouldn't do anything but throw gasoline on the fire right now. They could fight about it later, when they were actually safe. She had the right idea, and the next few minutes passed while they tended to the wounded as best they could and waited for an extraction team. SHIELD was good for that much, at least, and they didn't leave them waiting long. Most of the injured would probably survive.

Two lost. It could have been a lot worse, all things considered, but that didn't make it okay. Channeling some of that pent-up anger by raging at the SHIELD suits only left him buzzing and unsatisfied. It didn't change anything. It didn't tell their families that their loved ones weren't coming home. He ran the obstacle courses and attacked the heavy bags until his muscles ached, and only then did he feel like he could talk to someone without snarling at them.

Most of the group who weren't in the med wing had gathered in the common area, but a glance told him Lily wasn't with them. She shouldn't be alone right now. Hell, he didn't want to be either. He swiped a bottle of whiskey from Fury's personal stash and knocked on her door.

[protection-spell]

Royce Alderan | Closed Starter

@pleinsdemuses

It was a little strange to be on a date and completely out of arm's reach, even out of earshot sometimes, from Bella. It was simply safer this way. If the two were seen together, onlookers might not approve of spotting a werewolf and a vampire fraternizing in such a way. Or worse, someone might report back to Alderan.

Still, it was a pleasure to watch how Bella walked through the world on her own. Confidence padding the pavement with every step she took, her head held high, and all the eyes that followed her as she passed by. She's mine. He thought to himself, feeling rather proud to have won her affection when she clearly had so much freedom of choice.

As Bella got in line for a ride not unlike a merry-go-round, which had brightly painted zoo animals rather than simple horses, Royce got in line after her, a party of 7 standing between them. She peeked back at him with a coy smile and he gave her a small wink before averting his gaze.

She chose a steed for the ride's duration and Royce carefully walked the platform until he found one that allowed him a good vantage point. The two could not speak to each other while maintaining a distance, and so had found others ways to communicate. Their wordless smirks and winks went unnoticed by the other patrons of the fair. As the ride began the two locked eyes.

[deviousnumbers]

001 | Late At Night Or Early In The Morning

@pleinsdemuses

Street lights twinkled up above, the asphalt below was cracked and jagged rocks jutted out into Alfie's back. Fading in and out of consciousness, each blink to darkness growing slower and longer, Alfie's thoughts were swimming lazily through his mind.

Thief. The other had called him- his assailant. And the other had been right. They had dueled with magics but Alfie, to his surprise, had been bested... perhaps he was outmatched.

And now he suffered the consequences of the assault, the taste of copper in his mouth. A long gash across his left forearm, still bleeding, panged and throbbed with pain, keeping him from falling into unconsciousness. This paired with the coughing, the sputtering, from the blood which filled his mouth, leaking from his split lips.

He was badly hurt and immobilized, worried his leg might be broken as he was unable to move it. Alfie could do no more but clutch in his right hand his token: a brass ring bequeathed to him by his father. This was the item through which he could channel his magics, yet it was useless to him now.

He could neither move nor speak, but the assailant had made one fatal mistake: he'd left Alfie half-alive. That would be enough. He vowed that if he lived to see daylight... he would get his revenge along with those spellbooks the assailant had recovered from him.

The clicking of heels on pavement echoed in the distance from somewhere. Hope. Alfie thought as the world around him swirled into a mess of white streaking starlight and the orange hues of street lights.

[themultiversemercs]

Starter for @pleinsdemuses

As the elevator went up, the two agents checked over their concealed weapons safe in the knowledge that the camera within had been set to loop to give them time to prepare. The gala had been a wholly boring affair, some media mogul showing off his wealth and reach by securing a new satellite to broadcast to every nation in the globe.

Or something along those lines, Arch had been too bored and preoccupied with keeping the 'Gareth Kinshkov' persona going, a security CEO with a taste for philanthropy. His teammate on this mission, one of his closest friends and confidants had been hanging off of his arm all night, helping to secure his status as unattainable to ensure people didn't look too closely.

"You owe me for that one. And you're still an awful bloody kisser." The redhead commented as she unholstered the suppressed Walther PPK/S she had strapped to her thigh under her black and gold backless dress. A short snort of a laugh came from the tall mercenary at her insult. "Well you certainly looked like you enjoyed it." He retorted with a cheeky grin.

"Mate, she's paid to look like she enjoys it, that's kind of our whole gig." Came a voice from their cochlear implants, a thick midlands accent behind his words. Drane stifled another laugh, continuing with "At least he pays well, right?"

"Dickheads, all of you." Arch replied as that smile grew wider, pulling Drane into a quick hug that was all too happily returned, just in time for the doors to open on the VIP floor, and Arch drew his own suppressed handgun, that being a Walther Q5 Match SF.

[darkstarkiller]

"Why are you doing this?" from Celeste @pleinsdemuses

“I do as I wish, I may not be inside my realm but if a hunter is hungry, they will hunt, I do not see why now would be any different.” The fae approached her, fangs bared. “Unless you wish to bear the full fury of the Lord of the Infernal Court.” A low snarl escaped his lips before he returned to the terrified human on the ground, grabbing their leg and dragging them to the edge of the cliff, it seemed to enjoy a small break amongst the caves and the ever ferocious sea had its advantages. He had decided to go on a little adventure, there was an ancient legend of runes of ancient power being buried in the caves, what he hadn’t expected was a human to be so rude and attempt to trip him up, he had no patience for idiocy, even small amounts. “Whoever you are, make your intentions clear, rather quickly if I were you” he grinned as he grabbed the human and tore into their neck with his fangs. 

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

@pleinsdemuses aks: "stop looking at me like that. i can't focus" -from Lydia Martin

A grin lingered on his lips, his eyes sparkled mischievously and he leaned a little further forwards. „And how do I look at you?“ After all, anything from hunger to desire could appear on his face. Who knew what Lydia had just perceived? Elijah leaned casually against the wall, watching Lydia with a curious expression.

[starlsssankt]

@pleinsdemuses (katherine) // *

Aleksander merely smirks at her, eyes gleaming in the flickering firelight. Darkness surrounds them as the night air chills through the open window, but he's always been prone to embrace that chill. That darkness.

That wickedness that has pulled him forward in this life (and every single life).

❝ Now why would I ever pretend to be what I am not, Katherine? ❞ He turns from her then, to take one more look at the way the ornate mirror shows that utter perfection in his reflection upon it. Aleksander has never hidden away, never denied who and what he is.

Well, not anymore, he hasn't.

For he has never regretted his actions; such a thing is wasted, ultimately. He's survived, he's won. Is that not all that matters, when the end comes along?

Who is still standing? No matter the blood they might have on their hands? The darkness that might stain their soul?

❝ Besides, I do not want anyone to ever forget this dark soul of mine. You should know that by now. ❞

[vivalavillain]

{Closed starter for @pleinsdemuses.}

Warmth.

That was the first thing he noticed as he was thrust out of the portal leading to a spot somewhere outside the podunk town of Puente Antiguo. It was a strange thing to notice first, made stranger still by the fact that it contrasted so wholly with the frigid temperatures of that Between place that always consumed him between jump points. Portal-hopping was fairly high on the list of things he despised but, as a warning voice in the back of his mind reminded him, it was necessary. He had a mission, after all, and nothing could get in the way of it.

Looking down at himself, the god of mischief realized he was woefully overdressed for his intentions. Cloth tunic, leather pants and armor, a billowing cloak, golden horns. He'd arrived on Earth with all the splendor of an Asgardian Prince and while it was what made him most comfortable and felt the most natural, it was likely to draw too much attention. Then again...

Perhaps that was his way in.

The woman he sought-- that bright spot in the universe for his mad, fool brother, Thor-- would likely be drawn in by someone claiming to be Asgardian and dressed in the finery of that culture. The horns were a bit much, he supposed. He didn't want to frighten the mortal away, after all. So, it was the first to go, squirreled away into that place where all things go that were Hidden and Kept.

Bending to one knee, he spat into his palm and scooped a bit of the red earth beneath him into his moistened palm and mixed the two elements together. He took the first two fingers of his other hand and smeared the substance across his forehead, his right cheek, and down the right side of his neck. With just a touch of magic, the thin layer of mud turned redder until it appeared as blood. Satisfied that this disguise was passable enough for his purposes, he straightened and marched his way towards the little town.

It took less than hour for the first outcropping of buildings to rise against the horizon and less time than that for him to find himself just outside the view of the local diner. As he neared the establishment, he began dragging one leg in the dirt as though limping, stumbling his way through the front door. He looked around in a panic, breathing heavily as he dragged his way to the counter where a shocked server stared at him in confusion.

"Please..." He started, coloring his voice with pain and desperation. "I have to... find Jane." Collapsing onto his knees, he gripped an empty stool at the counter for dear life as one of the patrons ran to his aid. "Jane Foster... tell her..." He groaned weakly, stretching a pathetic hand out toward the server. "Tell her... Thor..." And with that, he collapsed entirely to the floor, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

[wintercosmickillsx]

@pleinsdemuses (sin)

The Winter Soldier cracks his knuckles instinctively as he stands impassively to the side, observing the woman he was assigned to. Her red hair reminds him of someone he once knew, a long time ago, what felt like another life, or possible just a dream.

He had a lot of those. Dreams. Although he'd never mention it to Lukin or any of his handlers. He was meant to be the perfect soldier, obedient, loyal, unquestioning, unwavering. Without thought or emotion to himself. Not that anyone would care to ask him how he felt, what he wanted. No that would be absurd.

His life was not his own, he was merely a tool for others to use, a weapon used to kill. The Winter Soldier knew no other life, and yet he felt at one time, he did have another life.

Returning his attention on the woman, simply referred to as Sin by Lukin, the Winter Soldier finally speaks.

"What is my mission?" His tone is stiff, emotionless, but he almost sounds bored.

[grimmusings]

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs - it's time to spread positivity !

Omg right back at you lovely! You were my first friend in Tumblr indie, and I'm so so happy we met! I adore you and all our dysfunctional bbies. 🥰💛

[xbullseye]

@pleinsdemuses

Being assigned to Los Angeles wasn't that bad. Dex was a New Yorker at heart, but at least the city was interesting, even if it was entirely contrary to everything he was familiar with. Californians and New Yorkers may as well have been a different species. Being reassigned to Madre Linda, on the other hand, he was fairly certain was a circle of hell in some classic text. From what he could tell, the population was largely made up of bloggers, Karens, and raging helicopter parents. It was a constant exercise in self-control. Fortunately, control was where Dex shined.

As long as he had a routine, he was stable. He accepted that he'd need to find a new North Star to keep him moral as well, but for now, the memory of Julie would hold him over. That wasn't the sort of thing he could rush. It'd had catastrophic consequences in the past, choosing the wrong person. He assumed it was good looks and a certain boyish charm that had him quickly becoming a favorite trainer at the local gym. Leading a spin class of bored housewives didn't exactly crack the top ten on his wishlist, but the job wasn't difficult, and it provided a useful cover for his investigation. Joe Goldberg was connected to murders or disappearances in New York City, Los Angeles, and now Madre Linda, enough that it had gone beyond the scope of local police and caught the attention of the FBI.

He was slowly building a case, but so far it lacked the hard evidence of a witness or even a body. Forty Quinn had been killed by a police officer, not by Goldberg, but Dex couldn't help feeling there was more to the story. He'd quickly become fascinated by Joe's wife, Love Quinn. From the outside, Goldberg had everything: the beautiful wife, the nice house, the charming baby, enough money that neither of them had to work if they didn't want to. It was all very American dream. That was precisely why it burned Dex that Goldberg was skulking around with the fucking neighbor. He had everything, and he didn't even appreciate it. He certainly didn't deserve someone like Love.

He made it a point to come into her bakery three times a week like clockwork, always at the same time, always when he had a break from the gym down the street as a convenient excuse. It was rarely more than pleasant small talk and compliments on her excellent cooking, but he didn't expect her to trust him right away. Even without being an FBI agent, Madre Linda was a piranha tank just waiting to sense blood in the water. The bell above the door jingled, and he smiled as he approached the counter. "Morning, ma'am."

[walkitoffrogers]

@pleinsdemuses

"Trust me when I say that I don't like it any more than you do."

Steve's voice dripped disdain as he surveyed Sin. He'd come to speak with her after she'd had some time to recover from the latest round of torture. It was a mixed blessing that they both healed fast, one he knew that Sin of all people understood. On the one hand, most pain wasn't permanent or even lasting. On the other, they could take so much more damage than the average human, an ability HYDRA had always been glad to use to its own advantage. He'd once believed that he and Sin had an understanding that few others could share, both made and raised and shaped by HYDRA. Now, all he saw when he looked at her was a traitor.

HYDRA wasn't usually about second chances, but he supposed in the case of the Red Skull's daughter, some exceptions had to be made. It wasn't Steve's decision to make. If his General told him they wanted Sinthea Schmidt recovered alive, then he would carry out those orders or die trying. So he had, and here she was, prince and princess of HYDRA reunited again. But HYDRA didn't want a prince and a princess. It wanted a king and a queen and, most of all, an heir. He'd explained the situation to her. Director Zola wished them to marry and have a child to carry on the legacy.

As marriage proposals went, it was far from romantic, and Steve was truthful when he said he didn't care for it. He was an excellent soldier, an even better Captain, but he lacked certain qualities of a husband, like the ability to love someone. HYDRA couldn't teach him what it didn't know. A marriage of convenience to bear a child that would ultimately take his place… no, he wasn't enthusiastic about it. But he followed all orders, not just the ones he found personally agreeable, and it wasn't like HYDRA gave either of them a lot of room to refuse.

"What will it be, Sin? You can accept my proposal, or you can die in this room. I hope I'm not a fate worse than death."

[protection-spell]

Royce Alderan | Closed Starter

@pleinsdemuses

Though he appeared calm, Alderan was seething with rage. Having searched through Royce's mind, expertly working his way around his heir's clever little defences, he'd found it.

Hope.

But there was something more than that... something wrapped around that little nugget of hope like twine. Something that evoked Alderan's unyielding wrath: a plan. A coup.

"Royce.." Alderan spoke quietly, striding up the stairs, footsteps silent, "You've done something so foolish. So unforgivable."

He turned at the top of the steps, spotted Clark just before the ghost disappeared out of sight.

"Go now or I'll send your spirit to hell where it belongs." Alderan whispered, a smile toying with his lips. Clark knew all too well that Alderan had his ways... that he could make good on his promise.

As much as he wished to warn Roy. He knew he could not.

Alderan strode down the hall to Royce's master bedroom. An ornate grandfather clock chimed from the end of the hall, signaling that it was 3 o'clock in the morning. On the dot.

Alderan chuckled wryly. He kicked the door in- found Royce and his bitch curled together like pigs in their sty.

"Wakey, wakey," he hollered, his voice grandiose and full of zeal, "It's time to suffer."

Royce jolted awake, his eyes wide and terrified. He'd let it slip. He knew he had. He'd lowered his defenses... he must have. How else could Alderan have known? Royce clutched Bella close to him, pulling back towards the headboard of his bed.

He could do little more than cower before his master, finally come to put him out of his misery.

"Bella," Royce's voice was tired and ragged, "you must flee. Now."

He knew she would refuse. He knew she would die alongside him if that was how tonight was to unfold. He knew there was no other way.

[deviousnumbers]

002 | Gladiators These Days

@pleinsdemuses

She couldn't know nothing. She simply couldn't. So the watching and waiting had begun. She worked a lot in a hospital and so she was easy enough to find. Always walking into work bright and early and always walking out late at night.

Finally, she was at the end of her shift and walking out of the building, away, into the darkness. From the safety of his own home, Alfie created a window which replicated one of the larger windows that flanked the hospital.

For someone with such formidable powers, she tended to use them indiscriminately. It was perplexing to see her heal someone with a compound fracture in one room, watch her walk to the next room to heal someone with undiagnosed abdominal pain right after. She didn't seem to care how great or how small the pain was, she would simply take it on. This didn't make sense to Alfie.

Zara walked past, oblivious to the amount of eyes on her, when from behind another approached, lapping her in speed. The other wore a heavy cloak which covered his body and confused his true size.

Alfie knew he was watching one of the bookkeepers shamelessly attempting an assault from behind. He also knew Zara hadn't stolen any spellbooks since he'd begun surveying her. Which begged the question: Was this attack now a result of her interfering and healing him? He'd been left for dead because somebody wanted him dead. And Zara had stood in the way of this.

"I suppose a favor is a favor." He whispered to himself. His digits danced as he recalled a string of numbers in his head. Seemingly arbitrary numbers, yet strung together in just the right order. His small window of view grew in size, widening and lengthening until it resembled that of a door.

He stepped through into the world outside that hospital, onto the street where Zara was, and the bookkeeper was uttering a spell, no doubt, under his lips. Attempting to conjure something? Alfie thought not.

"Touch her and I kill you." Alfie decreed. Though he was speaking directly to the man behind her, his harsh, cold eyes were locked with hers.

Finishing his utterance, a bright light shone behind Zara's back and the unmistakable growling or a predatory beast filled the air. A familiar, of sorts. An animal companion, a bengal tiger, loyal to this bookkeeper was now crouched low to the ground, its eyes trained on Zara's neck.

Alfie's eyes shifted from the beast to it's commander. "Your pet, too." He promised the bookkeeper.

[xdefendingandy]

@pleinsdemuses

Andy had never been fond of small towns. He’d always been a city boy, Boston raised and Cambridge for school, then Newton when he and Laurie had decided to start a family. The appeal of disappearing somewhere after the deaths of his family was too great to pass up though, and it wasn’t like he'd had a lot of job offers at the time. The practice was small, just him and one other man who'd been there longer than Andy had been alive. He drank too much, and Andy spent half his time putting out fires with their clients and taking up the slack. It wasn’t the cutthroat challenge he was used to, but it filled his time. Most of it.

There were times he wondered whether the anonymity of a larger city wouldn't have been better for him though. It had taken longer than he’d expected for his past to be discovered here, and there had been whispers for weeks everywhere he went. He ignored it and then, as expected, it simply died off and no one seemed bothered by it anymore. But Christ, the town didn't even have a proper coffee shop, just a Starbucks, and a grand total of two bars, one of them decidedly touristy on the main street, and the other a dive further off the beaten path.

Andy preferred the first one. He didn’t need the mess of lasting attachments, and the only people he ever took home were tourists, never locals, people he'd never seen in town before and would likely never see again. He’d had enough scandal to last him a lifetime, even of the small town variety. He’d noticed when she came in, and so had half the guys in the place. There was a rowdy group of them at a table by the window, some sort of college sports team passing through town, who hadn't been quiet about it. He shook his head, faintly amused and faintly disapproving, as he turned back toward the bar and picked up his beer bottle. In all of history, he couldn’t imagine catcalling a woman had ever once worked.

[lamentingwclf]

“I can love what is broken” from Violet @pleinsdemuses

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓����𝐂 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

The initial response that James barely grasps the reigns on is to lash out. He can feel it, that misplaced anger bubbling to the surface at being perceived in such a way. It is gently coupled with the fact she has startled him, and had he not been so quick to recognize her, the lashing would not have been just verbal.

"Did you follow me?" He asks, only after swiping beneath his eyes and glancing at the tips of his fingers - dry. It would have been much more embarrassing had she confronted him a few moments before, and he's able to convince himself, or at least hope that she hadn't been observing prior to approaching.

His tone, however, does hold indignation and it is barbed. Those reigns slipping slightly as he switches into an offensive position. He rolls his jaw slightly forward, eyes cutting around them to make sure she is at least alone.

Then he comes closer, stopping just shy of brushing against her. James understands what she is saying, processes it, but there's a refusal to accept such a thing. And yet - he reaches out tucking a crooked index finger beneath her chin, forcing her gaze upwards. The pad of his thumb rests lightly against her bottom lip.

"That is a very dumb and reckless thing to do."

@pleinsdemuses