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Multifandom multimuse / featuring muses from MCU, TMA and others / mutual exclusive / OC friendly / crossover friendly

Penned by Lina, she/her/idiot, 30+

CARRD link

karu3

#{ aesth: rapunzel }

giaunt

Singing, someone was singing! Oh, he wanted to hear it — he wanted to find who it was. What a strange thing, to hear a stranger sing in, as the humans would say, 'the middle of nowhere'; for normally, it was he alone who did such things, and none else except the birds and frogs and other such inhuman life composing the daily and nightly choir of the ecosystem. But perhaps this was not the middle of nowhere after all; in his searching for the source of the song, he discovered there was a tower all by its lonesome, one with a window high up upon it, yet not so high up as to prevent him from leaning in close and peering in to see what was inside, Ingvar.

And so he did. And then the song stopped, and he saw her; he saw her see him, as much of the light had left the room with the shadow he cast, and the human hurried partway to the window. And he realized with a freeze and a gasp and a horrified contortion of the face, his eyes becoming enormous and face ghastly pale, precisely how he surely seemed — a giant, looking intently in at someone in a tower...! By the Goddess, she must have thought him a terrible brute, here to... well, here to do something very frightful indeed to a lone maiden, perhaps similar to the strange and terrifying tales humans conjured about giants that involved them gobbling people up. Beside the fact such an action would have been impossible — Ingvar did not, could not, eat meat — the very idea of doing so mortified Ingvar, and he could not think about it long without getting rather upset on behalf of the victims of the hypothetical situation. What an awful fate that would be, and what an awful thing for him to be believed to desire!!

He tried to look less horrified, and more friendly. This attempt was unsuccessful; the anxiety remained clear upon his great face.

"Good morrow," he greeted sheepishly in return, keeping his voice at a whisper in an attempt not to cause overwhelm with his voice, which could be quite loud if he wanted it to be, and he very much did not. By some miracle neither he nor his voice trembled, likely because he hadn't yet considered the very real possibility of this lone maiden being armed and very easily able to do him harm. Or perhaps it was because he was so thoroughly startled stiff. "I — I-I was hearing some-one singing, and... wanting to be finding who. Was it... being your song?"

forevermuses

The unexpected whisper of the giant catches Rapunzel completely off guard. Her heart thumps against her ribs, but the terrifying image of a monstrous brute immediately begins to crumble under the sheer weight of...well, his sheer awkwardness. He looks terribly out of place, his huge features contorted in a look of profound anxiety that mirrors her own, and his sheepish greeting is surprisingly gentle for someone who could likely crush her tower with a single hand.

She blinks, her grip on her dress loosening slightly as her curiosity takes the reins. Fear is a very familiar feeling in this tower, but this? This is entirely new.

A nervous but genuine smile breaks across her face, her eyes lighting up as she processes his words. It gives her the courage to take a tentative step closer to the window sill, her long golden hair following behind her like a veil.

"Oh! Yes! Yes, that was me. I was just...humming, really."

She dares a better look at him, fascinated by the vastness of his face, taking in the way he tries so hard to make himself look unthreatening. It's almost endearing. She places her hands on the stone ledge of the window, her fear rapidly melting into excitement.

"You... you could hear me from so far away?"

#{ m: rapunzel }#{ giaunt }#{ t: giant in the glade | giaunt }#// rapunzel immediately wants to make friends lol

tinymintywolf

screenshot redraw of one of my favorite deleted scenes :')

#{ g: peter quill }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

etoilebleu

brows slowly shot up at the title the strange man suggested for himself, attempting to hide the amusement on her face. heterochromia eyes glanced down at his jacket, corner of her mouth pulling while she took note. hm. one thing he wasn't dishonest about. it was indeed a great jacket.

arms folded over her chest the more as he desperately tried to explain himself, a heavy sigh exhaling from her nostrils. suspicious gaze then followed how he positioned himself, deciding to continue to play dumb about his intentions. " mm.... kinda sounds familiar ? but-- doesn't really ring a bell. " rán shrugged, giving a false frown. liar. she'd heard of him a bit.

" and what makes you think I need guarding, peter quill? " the asgardian tilted her head, eyes raking over his form. " what if I'm the bad guy? " a hilarious notion, but it would get him to think more broadly about who he'd approach, no?

forevermuses

Peter's grin falters for a second, his ego taking a tragic hit as she claims not to know him. Doesn't ring a bell?! He opens his mouth to protest, to explain that he literally helped save the universe multiple times, but he manages to bite it back, settling instead for a theatrical sigh.

Still, his amusement makes a swift return. He doesn't back down as her eyes travel over him. Instead, he hooks his thumbs into his belt loops, leaning part of his weight onto one leg, matching her playful challenge with a smirk.

"You? The bad guy?" Peter lets his eyes do a quick, deliberate sweep of her form in return. "Please. I've met the bad guys. They usually have more spikes, worse skin, and way less flair."

He gestures vaguely with a hand toward her, then changes tactic in his approach.

"Look, maybe you don't need guarding. Maybe you could take that vulture over there that's been giving you the eyeballs, but where's the harm in letting a guy help you out? Maybe even buy you a drink?"

#{ m: peter quill }#{ etoilebleu }#{ t: watching me | etoilebleu }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }#// I think she should hose down the creep AND peter lmaoo

slasher-art

Just random sketches with Stephen. 💫

#{ g: stephen strange }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

labwebs

Even with his sense for danger quickly going from a mid-level concerned whisper to a scream of GET OUT OF HERE NOW PETER PARKER, he's not quick enough. The web he tries to shoot at Dr. Strange bends in the forces coming from the box and there's not enough time for him to recalculate where to shoot if he actually wanted to hit the other man so he could pull him to safety. The thought of leaving without him never even crosses his mind.

"Man, I hate magic," he mutters to himself, dropping to all fours and trying with everything he has to stay stuck to the floor. But that's not enough either. And it's not his ability to grip onto even the slickest of surfaces that's the problem- the floorboards he's attached to start to give way. Not interested in dealing with splinters of wood and nails wherever this thing is going to inevitably take him and with Strange already mostly through, Peter grits his teeth and lets go.

The fall is quick but disorienting. Enough that he can't quite manage to get his feet under him and instead falls with an "Oof," on his side. He's on his feet quickly, but there's not much to really see. At the moment, it's just an inky black void. And he can't tell if the dread he's feeling his his spider-sense, the little bit of what Strange had told him about the box, or, he supposed, the box itself.

"Ok, where are we and- most important- how are we getting back?"

forevermuses

The sensation of falling stops abruptly, replaced by a suffocating stillness.

Stephen hits the unseen ground a second after Spider-man, rolling to absorb the impact. Cloak flutters weakly against his back, dazed by the violent transition. He presses a hand to his ribs, drawing in a sharp breath as air returns to his lungs.

With an irritated groan, he pushes himself up into a crouch, blinking rapidly as his eyes try to adjust to the darkness around them.

"Always straight to the nightmare, isn't it?" he mutters.

Rising to his full height, Stephen steps toward the kid, his boots making no sound against whatever non-physical ground they are standing on. He raises his right hand, twirling his fingers to summon a standard Eldritch flare for light. Instead of a brilliant mandala, only a flickering orange spark ignites before snapping out of existence.

Stephen frowns, a knot of concern tightening in his chest. He tries again, focusing harder, but the magic here feels...inert. Or suppressed? It's hard to tell.

"To answer your first question...we are currently occupying the interior of the containment vessel. Or rather, the pocket dimension it was compressing. And as for how we get back...I have no idea. Yet."

#{ m: stephen strange }#{ labwebs }#{ t: nightmare box | labwebs }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }#// the amount of times i forget that stephen doesn't know peter anymore is inordinate #// keep having to go back and swap out 'peter' for 'spider-man' lmaooo

orientalld

#{ g: lex luthor }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

The corner of Lexr's mouth twitches upward into a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He pauses at her desk, adjusting the cuffs of his impeccably tailored suit with unhurried movements.

"Beat me to it?" Lex echoes, his voice practically dripping with condescension. "Please, Miss Lane. If someone else gave you the story, you only have the version they wanted you to hear. The truth is a luxury most people can't afford to misinterpret."

He rests his hands flat on the edge of her desk and leans in, his gaze intense and entirely unbothered by her dismissal.

"So, tell me," he murmurs. "Are you going to print a secondhand fairytale, or do you want the actual truth of how history took a new path?"

/ @gravityslingshot /

#{ ask: ic }#{ m: lex luthor }#{ gravityslingshot }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }#// first post as Lex here we GOOOOO #// lmk if you want anything changing mwah

inosan-13

#{ g: stephen strange }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

divinityrisen

Why was he talking about the building as if it were a conscious being? Her brow twitched at the curiosity, but it was fleeting when he mentioned the museum and its habit of sitting on mysteries. He wasn’t wrong, there were a number of artefacts which baffled archeologists, even as they sat in a lab, being scrutinized day and night.

Strange’s outfit was out of place, yet somehow fit the structure. Mystical, was one way to describe it. The cloak was a nice touch. While his manner was exactly what was expected, his clothing reminded her of a character out of a fantasy book.

“Lara Croft,” she introduced herself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she unzipped the bag and pulled out an assuming cardboard box, its lid lightly taped shut. Carefully she pulled a folded piece of paper and offered it to him as well. “Denneth said this was for you, your eyes only.”

Lara never put much stock into curses or ‘evil’ objects, but there was no denying there was something off about whatever was inside the box. Looking at it made her uncomfortable, in fact, she’d tucked it into the bag because of how it made her feel. As soon as it was out of sight, the sensation lessened, but holding the box now, she just wanted to shove it into his arms.

“I hope it finds a good home in your collection,” she said, hiding her discomfort.

forevermuses

Croft.

Recognition flashes over his eyes. He is well aware of her reputation, even if her usual exploits tend to lean more toward ancient ruins than cosmic anomalies.

He accepts the folded paper first, his gaze sweeping over Denneth's writing, absorbing the contents in a matter of seconds.

As Lara brings out the cardboard box, Stephen's attention shifts entirely. On his shoulders, Cloak suddenly rustles, its collar flaring slightly as if mimicking a dog catching a scent.

"Easy," Stephen murmurs softly, though whether he is speaking to the cloak or to Lara remains ambiguous.

He reaches out and takes the cardboard box from her hands, deliberately ensuring his fingers don't brush hers to avoid passing along any residual static shock the artifact might be throwing off. The moment his hands support the weight, his expression hardens, the casual charm vanishing into the focused demeanor of the Sorcerer Supreme. He can feel the magic vibrating through the cheap cardboard.

"A 'good home' might be a bit generous, Miss Croft," Stephen says. "Usually, the things Denneth panics about end up in a heavily warded basement, locked inside a box that is significantly sturdier than this one."

He looks back up at her, a dry smile returning to his face.

"But your part of the job is done. Thank you. Now, why don't we step into the study? You look like you could use something to drink, and I have a feeling you're going to want to stick around to see exactly what you've been carrying across the city."

#{ m: stephen strange }#{ divinityrisen }#{ t: delivery | divinityrisen }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

bluebellinbakerstreet

@mcuchallenge March prompt -> Wonder

#{ g: stephen strange }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

Stephen feels himself grow cold and rigid. Cloak senses the sudden shift in his posture, and goes completely still against his shoulders as its corners drop flat. For a man who commands the mystic arts and routinely outsmarts cosmic entities, he looks suddenly powerless.

He stares at Christine across the expanse of the dimly lit foyer. The distance between them feels wider than ever before. Her words thumo in the hollow spaces of his chest, striking a chord of something he thought he’d buried away long ago.

"Christine..."

His voice is lacking of its usual arrogant tone, quiet and careful instead. He takes a hesitant step forward, his scarred hands twitching at his sides before he curls them into loose fists.

"I'm right here," Stephen says eventually. "I'm right in front of you. Please. Just tell me what you need me to do."

/ @gravityslingshot /

#{ ask: ic }#{ m: stephen strange }#{ gravityslingshot }#// my hEART OW #{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

gunstellations

Watching Faroe

#{ g: faroe lester }#{ g: john doe }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

stxincd

Seeing that guy making his leave instead of pushing things any further has William's body relax, firm shoulders softening as he exhales; As confident as he is, and as much as he is willing to put the whole of his military background back into position if the situation requires for it, he's relieved to realize there's no need for him to do such. Yet.

Things tend to get nasty quickly, and he's much more of a calm kind of man nowadays - has always been, just adapted to his surroundings based on human psychology and some fucked-up instincts that are easy to trigger when enough pressure is put onto them.

Despite the surprising nature of it all, Faroe manages to go along with his antics swiftly - obviously feeling relieved herself about the change of pace, understandably so. She shouldn't be here, Will thinks to himself as she thanks him; A hum is what follows her words, with William allowing his gaze to linger for a little longer before it focuses on the chips already resting in front of him.

He's gathered enough to call it quits for the moment, and he considers to do precisely that - eyes the tables close to the bar not too far from them, then his attention is back on her.

"Will." No harm done in offering his name in return, a breath being taken right after. "---How about we take a seat over there and have something to drink. The game's over anyways."

He suspects that Faroe could do well with a moment of peace - and William wants to make sure he's staying with her long enough until he can safely assume for that asshole from before to have moved away far enough.

forevermuses

The tension fully drains from Faroe's shoulders as she watches the hard edges of Will's posture soften.

When he offers his name, she tests the syllable silently in her mind. Will. Simple, sturdy, and entirely fitting for someone who just stood like a shield between her and a threat.

His invitation makes her eyes follow his gaze toward the lounge tables near the bar. Moving to a more open space gives them the advantage of being hidden in plain sight, and more importantly, it gets her away from the table where she was cornered.

She should be moving on to keep tracking down her father but, honestly, the trail has gone cold and that idiot might still be lurking, just waiting for the moment she's on her own again.

"Will," she repeats softly, a genuine smile breaking through her lingering nerves. "That sounds like exactly what I need right now. Lead the way, Will. And by the way? I'm buying you that drink. Consider it a thank-you for saving my night."

#{ m: faroe lester }#{ stxincd }#{ t: a little help | stxincd }#// she's not going to let him leave without her anyway hehe #{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

matchavtea

um he was fun to colour.. 😳

#{ g: stephen strange }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

mantcdea

It is not a nickname, but rather a clear indicator of a mind that has seen too much. She isn't entirely sure which version of Stephen she has met. In a few universes, he does go by Doctor Weird. In another, he is known as Defender Strange. In another, Punisher Strange. When she is corrected, Mantis simply nods. Doctor Strange. She can't let it slip away.

He is not wrong. Threats are always lurking, hiding in the shadows like hungry beasts, all gleaming teeth and glinting eyes. Just when Mantis thinks she has seen it all, more threats emerge in nearly every universe.

Her posture relaxes just slightly when the map disappears. She nods again as he says they belong to this timeline. He says that as if it's easy. As if he is so sure. He knows which timeline he's living in, she reminds herself with a distant twinkle in her eyes. Her playful demeanor softens, taking a moment to consider his question.

"Free?" Mantis echoes. It may seem like a contradiction, being overburdened yet staying light-hearted, but time and memory are shackles. They say to define is to limit, and Mantis cannot be defined by a life she doesn't remember.

"I am free... because I am untethered, I suppose," she begins, choosing each word carefully. "By knowing the life that every other version of me has lived, I can rarely recall which life has been my own. I want to push every timeline toward a better outcome, but in order to do so I need to view them in a more... detached way."

She doesn't think she's making any sense to him, so Mantis decides to use an example Stephen can actually understand:

"Is that not what surgeons do? They spend all day seeing gruesome things, things that would make most people feel sick to their stomach. Surgeons want to help, to heal, to save lives — but they must distance themselves emotionally to do so." Her head tilts. "Every worst case scenario... I've seen it, but I cannot let that affect me if I am to use my gift to help others." She pauses, a frown appearing. "Wait, you have been a surgeon, right? Because if not, I've just offered the wrong example to the wrong Stephen."

forevermuses

A sudden bark of a laugh answers Mantis, the sound more a reflex of surprise than genuine amusement. For a split second, the guarded sorcerer cracks, replaced by a man genuinely caught by surprise.

"Yes, I was a surgeon," Stephen says, his voice carrying a self-deprecating edge as he looks down at his scarred hands. He flexes them, and it's remarkably obvious that there is much he hasn't forgiven himself yet for. "Though it feels like a lifetime ago. And you're not wrong. Clinical detachment is practically the first thing they teach you."

He listens to her explanation, the cynicism in his gaze slowly giving way to something akin to profound fascination. He has studied the multiverse through texts, relics, and dangerous spells, viewing it as a massive equation to be solved and defended and only somewhat understood. But Mantis? She is living it. Her mind must be like a radio catching every frequency at once.

"Untethered," he repeats softly. "Most people would lose their minds under that kind of psychological drift. They'd drown in the white noise of everyone else's lives. But you don't drown. You...You use it as a scalpel." A faint smile touches his lips. "It's a terrifying way to live, Mantis. But as a former man of science...I have to admit, your prognosis is surprisingly effective."

#{ m: stephen strange }#{ mantcdea }#{ t: multiverse chat | mantcdea }#{ queue break the rules and become a hero }

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