#firelightfables

[lightsblooming]

@firelightfables || cont.

when the hulk calls mary's name pretty, she ducks her head a little more, her cheeks dusted pink. "thank you," she says, because it's the polite thing to do when someone gives you a compliment, even if they're a little scary.

but she glances up again when he tells her that he gets scared— and although meteors and robots and tanks are all things that definitely can be scary, it's hard to imagine that someone as big and strong as him could be afraid by those things. but if that's true, then it means that she has all the more reason to be more afraid of what's out there than before...

sniffing a bit, she brings her arms around herself at the mention of home and looks down at her lap. it's a hard question; she can't stop thinking about the fact that no one knows where she is, and how she doesn't know how to find anyone she does know.

"i don't have a home," mary says, shaking her head, "i'm from – from where other kids like me live. but... but we came outside today for a trip..." and she'd somehow seperated too far, swept up in her own daydreams to notice she wasn't holding her buddy's hand and— she hiccups, her tears starting up again.

"i didn't – i didn't mean to get lost, mister monster— i'm sorry—"

[normaltothemax]

@firelightfables​​

Fighting gods and their followers was getting to be old hat, at this point. Jake was about ready to consider the fight with Apep’s just another, regular Tuesday, despite the calamity that surrounded him. Chaos filled the streets. What mayhem had been started by the god’s followers was only exacerbated by frightened civilians. Given that Apep was apparently the embodiment of chaos, that didn’t surprise Jake, all that much. Frustrate and annoy him, sure, but not surprise.

Problem was, he was rapidly losing control over the fight.

He’d been fighting for some pointy pole thing—an obelisk, Steven so helpfully supplied while Jake shoved a crescent dart into some guy’s neck—for god only knew how long, the suit healing any and all injuries he’d gotten, as per usual. Everything had been going fine, until the leader of Apep’s followers got in a lucky hit and whacked him over the head with the obelisk thing. It’d not only hurt like hell, but it’d also let off a flash of green light that had left him seeing stars, his mind reeling. That was the moment when things began spiraling out of control.

He could no longer feel Khonshu’s presence.

The suit disappeared, taking the crescent darts with it, and he couldn’t summon it back.

He was in the middle of a fight, easily still seven against one, by his last estimate, and he had no Khonshu, no healing suit, and no weapons.

Oh, and he couldn’t hear or feel Marc and Steven anymore, either. 

Not good. 

To the best of his ability, he finished the fight, as he was wont to do, but he could only protect himself so much. He was distracted by the silence in his own mind, left scrambling to grab the closest weapon (a dropped Bowie knife), while the others had knives and guns of their own. Thankfully, they were pretty terrible shots, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like hell when a bullet caught him in the shoulder, or another lodged itself in his thigh.

By the end of it, Jake was badly hurt and severely out of breath. He gasped for air, struggling desperately to fill his lungs, despite some fractured, if not broken, ribs. It was only once he was the final man standing—technically he was barely managing to stay up on his hands and knees, but semantics—that he allowed himself to acknowledge the panic that’d steadily been building since the suit disappeared. He had no headmates, no Khonshu, no healing. He’d been shot and stabbed and beaten...he could die. Bleed out right there in the street, and for what? For some stupid pointy pole thing?

Steven didn’t correct him, that time, and the fear he’d so carefully kept inside skyrocketed. Vaguely, he heard footsteps crunching toward him. His head snapped up—fucking owowow—and he brandished the Bowie that was still clutched in one hand, wobbling slightly as he attempted to keep his balance. Eyes tried to focus on the figure (figures?) approaching, but he’d started seeing double, maybe triple, a while back, and didn’t know which of them actually needed watching. “No te acerques más,” he warned, mind feeling too tired and scrambled to bother attempting anything in English. “¡Lo digo en serio! A menos que quieras terminar como ellos, te quedarás atrás.” He had no idea if they’d understand him, but his tone and expression, along with the knife held in a white-knuckled grip, would no doubt get his meaning across.

[shieldretired]

@firelightfables moved for beta editor

                         OH, STEVE CAN PICTURE IT: a blurry mobile phone photo (although they're getting better and better each year, so probably not blurry at all) showing him on his ass in some undignified pose, bold letters proclaiming Drunk Cap Makes A Fool Of America or something. That's definitely a downside of being 'famous': You had to watch your every step. Or you simply don't care; Steve decidedly chooses the latter because he refuses to feel guilty about getting tipsy on a fantastic foreign cocktail during his fucking vacation, thanks a lot. 

                    "Nope," he declares when he finds his footing. "I'm good, 'm good. Though Hulk might have to carry me to our hotel room if I keep drinkin' this devil's stuff," he adds before he drinks up his Guaro Sour to keep himself from giggling because the imagination of Hulk hauling him bridal style through the hotel is a hilarious one. He turns, Bruce's hand on his back hot and heavy and nice. Steve momentarily forgets what he wants to do until another insistent growl of his stomach reminds him that they are about to head to dinner. "If I managed to sweet-talk you into takin' a vacation, I can sweet-talk hotel management to let Hulk carry my drunk ass around unbothered. It's my secret superpower. But maybe you're right, and we shouldn't test it out just yet. C'mon, maybe we're lucky and can snag a table on the terrace under the stars. That would be nice." (And probably romantic, but who's counting, certainly not Steve, at least not out loud.)

[leschanceux]

"I can get you peanuts and cracker jacks, if that's what it'll take." The mission budget could stretch to include snacks, right? It'd come under Agent Expenses, surely. Ball-shaped or not, Clint's agreement brings an inordinate amount of relief to Phil; he might actually be able to have five minutes to himself before the whole shitty cycle started again and the Council got back on his ass about fulfilling their impossible quotas. God, he's exhausted. He might wait for that miraculous lull in assignments that's coming up in the middle of next week and request a long weekend or something, just to be sure that he's not going to burn himself out trying to keep everybody relatively safe and as happy as he can manage ( it's an almost impossible task at the moment ). "I'll make a note of your comment and pass it on, though." He will, too - he wants those people in the higher positions to realise just what their insane targets are doing to the agents in his care, what their systems are doing to damage the trust he's put in place over the years. "Yes, the destroying involves explosives. I'd suggest you take a visit to the tech department when we're done here, and they'll get you sorted with whatever you think you might need." Within reason. "It's your call how it gets done, just as long as it gets done." As for suits... well, if it's going to be that cold, he's going to find somebody who can make the best damn insulated underwear he can find, because god knows he's not risking life and limb for the World Council. "Anything else to add?"

leschanceux​:

Hey, two could play at this game; Phil narrowed his eyes at Clint as he slurped, the sound going right through him to grate at his nerves. Still, he supposed he couldn’t blame the agent for his reaction; to be mandated to choose a file was irritating, but so was having to pass the mandate down. “The World Security Council has decided, in their infinite wisdom, that your quota should be expanded.” Like they didn’t all have enough to do as is? “They’re not all sit and watch gigs; this one, for example-” he shuffled a couple of the folders aside to tap a finger on the top of another, “-involves potentially destroying an entire building. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” His tone was sardonic, the very edges of his mouth turned up a little in a grim parody of amusement, but he was genuinely trying to sell this extra workload. “Come on, Clint. Play ball, pick a file.”

Two could play at the game, but at the end of the day there were a thousand other handlers Clint could be left with. Despite what his slurping said, there were few offices Clint would rather be in. (Besides, Phil had the nicer chairs, and that was perhaps more of a metaphor than Clint wanted to admit to right then and there or, well, ever when it came to the guy.) Part of staying in this particular one meant knowing when to give. That sardonic grin that tugged at Phil’s mouth, and the way his eyes were starting to take on the sheen of someone who had likely been up in this very same office working until god knew what time in the morning? Clint wouldn’t say he was giving in. But he did sigh, set the coffee aside, and walk his fingers across the files. “I’d like it on record that this-” Fingers settled on the ‘destroy a building’ file, pulling it free from the sea of beige to be held up. “Is decidedly not ball shaped. And it doesn’t come with peanuts or cracker jacks.” It was a reluctant acceptance, but accepted nonetheless. Sitting back in his chair and for a brief, brief moment considering putting his feet up on the corner of Phil’s desk. Clint didn’t. But when he opened the file he wished he had. “…hope the destroying comes in the form of explosives cause you do know how cold it gets here this time of year, right? Better pack a suit for under that suit of yours.”

[stclenrelic-a]

tracker cleanup

lemme know which ones you want to keep or toss away. no hard feelings, just so i know where i'm at :)

@unexceptional - x | x | @intombed - x | x | @madeofmarblex - x | @rcdlcdger - x | @ircnwrought - x | x | @flighttruth - x | @unheald - x | @widoed - x | x | x | x | @battletrio - x | x | x | @kira--romanova - x | @the-mjolnir-owner - x | @firelightfables - x | x | @camerica - x | @youxmove - x | @what-the-stark - x | x | @nightmdic - x | @survivorofhellskitchen - x | @vigilantebullshit - x | @biitchcakes - x | @spinxeret - x |

[affcgato-archived]

name: monroe

pronouns:  they/she (usually they/them preferred, she/her if you have my phone number lmao)

preference of communication:  discord

most active muse: kaz brekker, jonathan morgenstern, brock rumlow according to my current tracked threads

experience / how many years:  since '08 on tumblr in various fandoms, since '02 on proboards

platforms you use:  tumblr - if I write anywhere else, I entirely neglect my blogs so just here my loves

best experience: getting to meet some of my lovely partners in person!

rp pet peeves: please actually read my rules - I'll know if you don't & then it's just uncomfy all around

fluff,   angst,   or smut: hurt/comfort is my jam, but I will indulge, rarely, in smut with the right partners

plots or memes: memes for breaking the ice, plotting for continuing the glacial melt

long or short replies:  mid length, unless you're ready to commit to a whole lot of chatting

best time to write: mornings

are you like your muses: there are pieces of me in each of them, it's how I find an anchor point to nail their characterization but none of them are really that much like me

tagged by: @percentstardust

tagging: @cxpt @wintershieldedheart @alteredcanon @mvsemenagerie @firelightfables @starsinshadows @crowshoots @tsareviich @esotericdescent @divienity @barrelcrow

[katesgotabow]

what color does your love feel like?

bright sunshine yellow

Sweet tasting popsicles, summer dresses and shielding your eyes from the sun. Your love is the excitement of something brewing, something growing. It's the almost childish bubbling giggles of something new, but with the potential to stay. It's wide smiles, blinding sunny light and warm bodies that gravitate to one another. It's the the softness, the willingness, the slight holding of breaths in a crucial "what if" moment. It's the impatience too. The bouncing on tiptoes to see further than your eyes can reach, the holding out for a future that never seems to come even though you're ready, you're so so so ready. It's the constant feeling of warm sand beneath your feet, holding out for the crashing waves. And still you wait, dry and impatient and with burnt soles of feet. Your love is sour candy, enjoying it as your nose scrunches up from the aftertaste of it. It's hands that grab and take hold, that reach and ask them to stay and hope and beg and wait. It's bubbling excitement sure, but it's also demanding, focused, driven. It's love like a plan, with a path and route and a clear destination. And you bonce on your tiptoes, and burning, waiting for the soothing water, the crashing waves, you hold onto the melting popsicle, you wait and wait and wait. It's tiring almost as much as it's lazer focused ambition, deeply rooted desire and the unrelenting hope that it will work, that it will come. And it does, I promise it does. The waves crash, the beach floods and the pain passes, the water cool and soothing and you can let yourself fall in, sinking, sinking. And it's good, it's perfect, what you were hoping and more, holding and embracing you and welcoming you into the stillness you always knew you were reaching for.

tagged by: @firelightfables

tagging: you!

[liesforaliving]

MEET YOUR ARCHETYPES

47% Visionary - Leave it to others to live by the status quo. The Visionary is interested in new ways of seeing, solutions not yet imagined, products not yet built.

40% Intellectual - The Intellectual is the ultimate dinner-party guest. Engaging questions and thoughtful debate are their trademarks.

13% Caregiver - Friendly, sincere, and compassionate, the Caregiver finds their reward in helping others. No one could ask for a better best friend.

tagged by: @firelightfables

tagging: you!

[hxllblazer-a]

Clint's gonna lean in and give one magician a kiss on the cheek before shaking the bag of vindaloo take out at him; don't worry about the singed hair or shirt. Or why he's in London. His eyebrows will waggle. "Someone order smoking hot?" || @firelightfables​​

His arms are crossed, and he’s trying very hard to feign bemusement except… well… it’s pretty much a lost cause. “Can’t tell if this is prepayment t’ let you clean up or an excuse to come over. Gonna do the smart thing and hope for both.”

A snort as he basically steps aside—though careful to trace off a mark on the back of the door though. No need to ruin things because some intruder magic decided to blow up. Literally. “Mind the mess, yeah? It’s ah—it’s just been.” A beat. “Kitchen’s to your left.”

[nightmdic]

"everyone says internal bleeding's bad, but isn't that where blood's supposed to be?" (from clint...is he being serious? who knows)

     Dark brows rise at his response to her diagnosis, finding both a mild shock and concern rising in her chest. “...I swear you better be joking right now.” She’s so near tempted to give a light slap to the back of his head for such joke, resisting against the action with hands being shoved into her coat pockets.

@firelightfables​ || A meme

[historiesandmemories]

starter for @firelightfables

Ah, New York. Queenie hated New York. There were far too many people with far too many emotions they couldn’t keep well enough to themselves and it smelled poorly. But New York tended to be full of crime and sometimes that turned very violent and the police got lost and then Q got called.

Such was it that had her now slipping through the halls of one of the NYPD offices, gritting her teeth against the prickling sensation crawling of her skin trying to warn her she’d processed far too many emotions today. But it was only noon and the empath was still trying to get caught up on the case that had been active for months now. No rest for the wicked or whatever.

Q was slinging her backpack down next to the desk she’d been told she could use when a familiar figure caught her eye. She stopped, squinting over at the man as faces and names dashed through her memory. It took only a few seconds for a name and face to match and then she was striding over to him.

“Jim Corrigan!” Less of a greeting and almost more of an accusation, Q offered the police detective a smile before realizing he may not remember her; it had been a few years and her hair absolutely been a different color back then. “It’s Q--Queenie Holland,” she stuttered out, tripping from nickname to legal name, “We worked a case or two together a couple years ago. It’s been a minute, but I’m back!” She shot finger guns at him before remembering she was at work and she maybe try and maintain any sense of professionalism at least for a second. That would certainly slip away quickly enough, but it was her first day. Least she could do was try.

[lostsouldierbye]

@firelightfables​ : “ who was your first kiss? “ (from clint or rich your choice!)

‘ Gretchen Zeller. Her and her pops were part of the German Resistance in World War II. I was half dying when I met her and I’d known her for about a week before I knew I had a bloomin’ crush on her. Kissed her before we had to leave, and . . . never saw her again after that. ’ He smiles wistfully and takes a sip of his drink. If Rich wants to get his defences down, this was a good way to do it. Not just the alcohol but trips down memory lane where forks parted the road into what could have happened and what actually did happen get Bucky particularly nostalgic and distracted. ‘ It was an excellent first kiss, if you’re wondering. Who was yours ? ’

[shieldretired]

Touch meme!

Tagged by: @storyofwhoiam Tagging: @battletrio + @eisiramdeus + @the-mjolnir-owner + @iomadachd (dean) + @firelightfables (your pick!) + @starsinshadows (your pick!) + @goldshadows (Harley) + @peperrood + @dereiserne + @hulkforhire + @knowseverythingaboutyou + @loyaltyworn + @trcnsitioncl (Bruce & Bucky) + @nomanslannd + @wnterslder + @defectivexfragmented (Clint) + whoever wants to

[emmatriarchy]

🥃 - Runa peered at him over her shoulder. "My name. That is a thing lost to the ages." She recovered it thanks to the seer she rescued, but she didn't feel like sharing it with this stranger. "Friends call me Val." Short for Valkyrie, but she wasn't about to talk about that to a virtual stranger. One she couldn't see the face of, and one she didn't trust yet.

"I've searched for many things, and fought in many battles. I'm older than I look." She gave a curt half shrug. "I guess you could say that I'm a drifter. I go from place to place, with little purpose." Jane was giving her purpose, but again, that stranger didn't earn her trust yet.

"After you," she motioned for him to head inside when they reached the place where she knew they could find the energy source he was looking for.

emmatriarchy​:

🥃 - Runa scoffed. She wasn’t a stupid woman, she knew there was more than he’d say. (she actually had no idea, she was just so used to seeing people have ulterior motives that she was certain he had too. Whether she was right to doubt his word, would reveal itself down the line) 

“Fine, let’s go get you that thing. It’ll make for an interesting story, I feel.” She hopped on her feet, and started to walk off. She was fairly sure that he would follow her, as she could lead him to what he wanted. 

There was no worming out of this now. Internally, Robbie swore at himself, but all he could do was put on a fake smile under his helm and thank the stars that at least was covering his own physical reaction. Particularly since he didn’t need the Datasong to tell him that whoever he had managed to pick up was not a woman to be trifled with.

Still, he followed her. Resigning himself to playing along as the hapless researcher just looking for an energy source. “Well, if you’re in it for the interesting story, the least I can do is ask your name. I would think you’d hate to have your part told as the ‘anonymous woman’.” Glancing over, he tilted his head a bit. “And I believe you never told me why you were here this afternoon. I’d ask if you were a researcher as well, but something tells me that your part in stories is not that.”

[soulcluster-moved]

@firelightfables​ / richard rider “just because the logic is sound, it doesn’t mean it’s right.” 

“There have been many times where I found that the path to a greater good laid down a road paved with questionable morals. A rigid perception of right and wrong will not serve you well, though there are some lines even I do not care to cross.”

The two were speaking theoretically, but it was not as if Adam had not found himself in such a situation several times. The line between logic and absurd, right and wrong, were concepts often played with loosely when one kept the company of Thanos and lived the life Adam had. “You fought in the Annihilation Wave. Surely this is not a foreign concept to you.”

[affcgato-archived]

Event tonight: Returning to Tumblr RP after a break!

Whether you took a break for a week, a few months, or even a few years, most of us seem to make our way back eventually to scratch that RP itch on Tumblr! Need some help motivating yourself to make the plunge once again? Or brand new and need some help getting established? You've come to the right place! ( lead by the lovely @firelightfables! )

1: Getting Established

What do you think is critical for a new blog or an old blog coming back?

What are 'must haves' on an RP blog?

What helps your old blog 'feel new'?

2: Finding Partners

How do you find new partners? What do you say to old partners who are still around?

Are there any red roleplay flags for you that make you back off immediately when you first approach a person?

How critical are tags and how do you decide how to use them?

3: Building Your Vibe

What makes a fandom feel welcoming to you?

What do you like to see in the RP side of the fandom?

What etiquette would you say is critical when re-establishing yourself on Tumblr?

4: Threads / Queues

How do you decide what is a reasonable amount of threads?

Tips and tricks for setting a queue.

☕ :: enter the tea room