#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—"

[starsinshadows]

RPC Dev Tea Room ++ Winter Rush

Day 3 :: ice skating in the park when you see a figure sneaking off into the trees

     When Steve had gone from some popular jock kid without a care to being alert, aware of potential dangers in an environment and tired, he wasn't entirely sure, but he was willing to blame part of it on his 'babysitter' status and the rest on the very big change to his lifestyle that had come with the lycanthropy. Whatever it really was, it meant that the idea of the kids playing on the ice around the lake or even skating on it worried him more than he wanted to admit.      Somehow, he'd still agreed to take them and the afternoon had been a good time with no accidents involving children falling through the ice, there were two new snowmen standing guard by the lake edge, everyone had been pretty cold and drenched by the end of the day and there had been no more than 5 ice ball related snowball fight fouls. Steve himself had taken one of those particular hits to the shoulder and he wasn't sure exactly who had thrown it, considering he'd straightened up with a shout to try figuring out the culprit and immediately got hit in the face with another snowball - this time fortunately without the ice. He'd let it go with only a blanket warning to the group. No ice!      Yeah, like that worked. He was pretty sure Max packed one specifically for him right after, but he couldn't prove it and even Eddie had shouted from his spot on the other team when Steve got pelted with the thing. The bruise wouldn't last, but that had definitely been a great reason to call that particular game before someone ended up in the ER. Damn monster hunting kids were too ruthless for play fights.      Steve couldn't pretend that he wasn't worn out by the end and extremely grateful that there were parents picking up their respective kids, if only for the fact that his car was spared all of their wet clothes and the snow crusted boots that would have been dragged through the entire thing worse than they already did all winter. Theoretically, he could drive himself home and get a nice, hot shower before relaxing the rest of the night, and he should have been more tired, but he had about a week and a half before the next moon, so it felt nice to shed some excess energy. He wasn't sure how Eddie felt about it all, considering it sounded like the guy had been dragged into the day's activities by the combined efforts of Dustin, Mike and Lucas and it was probably more concentrated time outside than the guy had endured in at least a year, but he'd seemed to be high energy and spirits all day.      For not quite obvious reasons, Steve had actually been surprised by Eddie's presence. He'd seen the guy in school so he obviously knew Munson could come out during the day, but he hadn't been entirely sure and he still wasn't quite certain if the theory he and Robin had been cooking up had any merit. He knew Munson smelled off, that his body temperature didn't feel warm enough and that there was a scent of blood added onto his already confusing smell often. Vampire, Robin had guessed, and yeah, it seemed totally possible after fighting and being turned by werewolves, but Steve was still cautiously waiting to figure it out.      For that reason among others, he absolutely noticed that Eddie's van was still parked nearby and glanced around after shipping the last child off, apparently just in time to watch a dark figure disappear into the woods alongside the frozen lake that looked suspiciously like Eddie Munson. It was only natural to follow, and even on two legs, he was fast and quieter than was likely expected. It meant that he appeared about ten feet back from Eddie in time to watch a failed grab for a rabbit that darted away like a little furry rocket, and cleared his throat a little more loudly, just to be sure he was noticed before speaking.      "You, uh, need a hand?" he asked, making every effort possible to ignore the fact that Eddie had just taken a face full of more snow than even the kids had managed in the snowball fights that had broken out over the course of the day in a spectacular dive, and he wasn't so sure the bush that had been the rabbit's previous cover would survive any better than Munson's dignity.

@firelightfables​ can Eddie come out to play?

[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.

[rejectdolls]

❝  alright,  here’s your coffee.  are you ready to talk or should i find something to ramble about for a few minutes?  ❞ (robin to chrissy!)   /  @firelightfables​ 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 !

             petite  hands  wrap  around  her  iced  latte,  sweet  like  she  likes  it.  she  stares  at  the  drink,  trying  to  block  out  her  mom’s  voice  in  her  head  chastising  her  for  however  many  calories  it  must  have.  stop  it.  seaglass  eyes  blink  a  few  times,  lashes  fluttering  as  she  changes  the  station  in  her  mind  and  she  takes  a  sip,  enjoying  the  caramel  and  espresso  blend  anyway.  it  lifts  her  mood,  and  she  could  use  the  buzz.  “i-i’m  okay.”  she’s  doing  her  best  to  stay  present,  pink  glossed  lips  managing  a  soft  and  sweet  little  smile.  as  long  as  she’s  around  her  friends  and  knows  she  isn’t  alone,  she  can  get  through  this.  “i  could  actually  use  the  distraction...  anything  interesting  happen  lately?”  another  sip  of  her  coffee  as  she  listens  attentively  to  robin,  green  eyes  curious  even  despite  the  anxiety  swirling  in  the  deepest  parts  of  her  psyche.

[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.)

[knowseverythingaboutyou]

@firelightfables​ (and robin) get a random starter! /  📚 :: reading by the fire when you hear the creak of someone on the stairs

“Stop.” Maria didn’t bother turning her head as she heard movement. “Turn.” She closed her book, finally turning to look over the back of the couch and catching Robin behind her, frozen on the stairs with one step to go before she hit the main floor. “You realize that this place tells me where people are, right?” She asked, gesturing around the house. It wasn’t a precise location, but Maria always knew when someone was coming or going. She still wasn’t sure if that was a standard feature for the family members who lived here, because she could sneak up on Steve if she really wanted to, or if it was specific to her because she was the (technical) head of the household. Either way, none of them had ever been able to sneak out without Maria knowing about it. She’d let them sneak out, because that was just what you did when you were a teenager, but she’d also made sure that they all knew to call her if they got into trouble. Apparently you could still get in trouble as a coven of mid-twenties. Hence the reason that Maria was curled up in the living room, reading a book instead of going off to bed at her regular time. She was fully aware that she’d been a little overprotective since Halloween had happened, but — god, Steve would be so upset if anything happened to his friends. “And we instituted a buddy system for the next little while, and Steve and Nancy are still upstairs. So where on earth are you headed on your own at a time most sane people are in bed?”

[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!

[starsinshadows]

@firelightfables​ is so untrusting...           "what the hell is this?" billy to hopper

    “It’s a project,” he stated, watching the kid with sharp eyes despite the gift that he was offering up – Billy didn’t know that was what it was, yet, and Hopper had learned while Hargrove was recovering at Joyce’s that Billy didn’t know what to do with overt kindness, especially from men. The way Billy practically snarled at anything he read as even potentially resembling a threat was reminiscent of a dog that had been kicked too much, and Jim had a hell of a lot of opinions on Neil Hargrove by that point. “You wanna go see it or what?”

[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!

[rejectdolls]

Tag a few  people you want to get know better!

Favorite color: pink

Currently reading: the princess bride

Last song:  take my breath away - berlin

Last series: the winchesters

Last Movie: endless love (1981)

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: sweet

Currently working on: some pretty edits for my muses, finding an outfit for strangercon, manifesting my dream life, a poetry book that’s a long term project, deciding if i should get a body wave perm

tagged by :  taken from the dash tagging : @rebelcliche @munsonciety @gareththegreat @pienodisventura @mikewheelertm @livesguarded @barhd @eggcs @notcruel @vitaegratis @firelightfables and anyone else who wants to do it !

[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.”

[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

[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