#cyneraph

[emilesmuses]

Here a shout-out to all my fellow multi-muse blogs! I know that it might sometimes hard to find people to RP with you, that some people will write your blog off as ‘too confusing to navigate’ or complain that you have ‘too many muses’, but here a small reminder that you are all still valid RPers and there’s many people out here who love you! <3

@formidablekind​​,  @hauntngs​​,  @hellfiredawn​​,  @cyneraph​​,  @thedasneedsheroes​​,  @cxnvenit​​,  @reprcbates​​,  @fuckingvictus​​,  @blasphemousherald​​,  @horrorempathy​​,  @scarsthatshapeus​​,  @aniente​​,  @thehopefulones​​, 

and feel free to reblog this, tagging your own faves! Spread the love.

[accelerhearted-blog]

[ billy ] ❝  Don’t freak out,  ❞ he said, both palms open, held above his shoulders in surrender, like those words had ever, ever, even once in the history of the nine realms, stopped somebody from freaking out. He’d been looking for the Scarlet Witch for weeks, and though those efforts had been fruitless, finding her brother had proven ... slightly easier. Billy swallowed hard. Steely, demiurge. You got this. ❝  I think i’m your nephew. Do you know where your sister is?  ❞

@cyneraph

“Excuse me...what do you mean ‘you think’?” There was a small, itty bitty piece of Pietro that was absolutely freaking out. Alarms and warning bells went off in his head, and his first response was to consider this entire situation a ruse or a threat. 

There was no way in hell he was going to tell this punk where Wanda was. Not without some sort of proof or explanation. 

“What do you know of my sister? She has not told me about you.” His words do come harsh, a bit scrutinizing as he gives this kid a hard once-over. The hands up in surrender - it’s the only thing that keeps Pietro from telling him to fuck off on the spot.

“Where did you come from? What’s your name? I will not let you see my sister until I know you are not a threat to her.”

[accelerhearted-blog]

[ wanda ] ❝ i could hear screams … ❞

@cyneraph

“Wanda...” Pietro closes the gap between them, hands finding either side of her face with ease. He cradles her with delicacy, taking note of the anguish in her eyes. That same anguish flourishes inside of his chest, and he leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Do not listen to that right now. Close your eyes.”

He doesn’t wait to see whether or not she does, instead reeling her even closer until her head falls comfortably against his chest. One hand reaches up to card fingers through her hair, while the other wraps around her shoulders as a means to comfort her.

“You can hear my heartbeat, yes? Listen to that instead. Do not focus on anything else.”