#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—"

[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.”

[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​​ ;;  sentence starters (still accepting) Bruce said:  "From the womb to the tomb, exhausted."

                       STEVE OFFERS BRUCE A TIRED SMILE. "That's what life is all about, isn't it?" he muses as he presses a bit of gauze to where Bruce just took some blood from him. The recent battle against Thanos took its toll on all of them; and while the clean-up operation is in full swing, and excavators and cranes try to handle all the rubble and debris of the former Avengers compound, they can't do much else than try to patch up their bodies and give their minds some rest because they did it. They brought everyone back. The fallout is still a lot to handle, but they managed to survive half of the population disappearing for five years, so Steve is convinced they’ll get through this, too.

                       Well. First, he needs to know what’s going on with his body. Mental tiredness aside, he’s also still exhausted. He shouldn’t be; after a couple of days of rest, he is always back to peak condition. Plus, his knee is still hurting where Thanos’ weapon pierced him, and his arm trembles sometimes. Maybe Bruce will find something. “You need more time? Some rest? Hell, a vacation?” he asks. “This has time, Bruce. Go sit on a beach and drink a margarita. You earned it.”

[nightmdic-a]

"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 ? ’

[emmatriarchya]

@firelightfables​ asked:  “ I don’t have issue with you. Maybe we’ll come to blows someday, but it’ll have to wait. ” (from talonar to valkyrie!)

🥃 -- Rùna considered the man, she wasn’t there to fight but she would if she had to. “Why would we fight, pray tell.” She quirked a brow, she wanted him to talk himself into a corner.