@setitallaflame liked for a starter.

Derek didn't trust her at all. She was new to Beacon Hills, likely sought the place out because of its energy and he wasn't going to pretend like everyone could be welcomed there. Too many problems had caused his guard to be up. "And what exactly do you want with this place? Our town is small and lots of weres think they can settle here without any problems but all they do is bring in more of them. And you don't have a pack which tells me that you're running from something."

@setitallaflame liked for an starter

It had been quite the day; what should have been an easy job becoming an dozen not so easy problems to solve. Paired with the rotten luck of realizing he had no cash on him, only an single smoke and of course only no lighter or matches. Grabbing it out, pack thrown in the bin and one incantation later.

Tiny flame on the tip of his finger to light the cigarette before cutting the spell off. Unaware he'd actually overlooked that was actually somebody in close distance. Not that he actually cared all that much though.

@setitallaflame from the ask <3

"I get how that is- people can be really fickle, existence more so." Nix offered an soft, sympathetic look. "Somebody specifically eating up at you right now or just an general observation moment?" Gentle inquiry, offering his ears to listen further if she wanted to keep talking about it.

@setitallaflame liked for a starter with Alec

"I'm neither a hero nor a villain." Signing in frustration. People have a funny way of interpreting FBI agents. Humans mainly see them as agents who seek the bad guys or the good guys and do many horrible things to their brains. Not true. They wipe their memories. A joke that Alec would tell to people. "Don't let the uniform put you off. I'm just here to assess the situation." Coming across a crime scene like this one, a person bloody, ripped apart, and missing a limb or two. "But um... Mind tellin' me why you're involved in all this? You the one that fucked up this bloody bastard?" The wolf had come across this blond woman who seems to be connected with the crime scene. He hopes this isn't some other supernatural incident, and it's just another crazed up human on the run because they're on some drugs.

@setitallaflame liked for a starter from Mitchell:

With his baseball cap firmly planted on his head and sunglasses to protect his eyes, Mitchell hurried down the street with a grocery bag in hand. He tried to go out in the darkness but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Quickly looking for his key he let himself in, already picking a snack out of the bag.

"Annie?" He asked without even looking around. Annie was bound to be around somewhere and he actually liked talking to her. She was cool, for a ghost. She was one of the reasons he felt less alone. "I'm home from work!"

@setitallaflame (☼)

"I did. I saw you die, and you didn't--" Eyes darted to the kid, and he took a beat to rephrase. "You barely batted an eyelid. That's why I don't understand." He knew there was a different between being injured and having people depend on him, because he was familiar with both, but he thought that certainly if he could handle dying, he could handle having people need him, especially when he was refusing to take any of the suggestions Marcos offered. That might have been what was bothering him more than anything. He said he couldn't do the job, so Marcos offered a different position, and still he decided to run. There was something he just wasn't getting, and he wasn't getting it because Lucan refused to say what it was. But when it came down to it, Marcos couldn't sit here and worry about Lucan. If he wasn't going to tell him, then so be it. If he wanted to leave, then so be it. "Fine. Go. I can't spend the rest of my life sitting here trying to get you to change your mind. I have people that are depending on me, and I need to do my job and protect them." Maybe the final jab wasn't needed, but it wasn't untrue, as much as it might have been unnecessary. He wanted him to stay, wished he'd be more open to working something out, but he just couldn't if he wasn't willing.

He was trying really, really hard not to lose his cool towards the kid, because that wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be acceptable, but he was...being tested. "This many more, okay?" he asked, holding up all ten of his fingers. Marcos was about twice that old, of course, but he didn't think getting into sets of ten was really the best idea with a three year old.

Closed Starter

@setitallaflame

James had told Reagan to escape, to let him go, but she'd surrendered when they threatened him. He fully expected to be killed anyway once they got Reagan secured, but apparently he was useful to keep her obedient.

But they'd made a mistake. A guard got too close and James had killed him. He didn't generally like killing, but in this case, it was necessary. Luckily, the warehouse they'd converted for whatever they were doing to Reagan (he tried not to think about it) was pretty small and there weren't many rooms to try. He tried one and found nothing but office files and went to the next room down and there was Reagan, seated in some kind of medical chair, inclined at a slight angle. Straps held her wrists down to the arms of the chair, another strap across her torso held her down, and her legs were strapped down together. Wires were hooked to various parts of her body, to her head and chest especially. Some kind of black gag was fitted in Reagan's mouth, whether to keep her quiet or because of the experiments they were running on her, or both, James didn't know. He thought her neck was strapped down as well.

Two "doctors"-- James didn't think he'd call them that based on what he didn't want to imagine they were doing to Reagan-- stood in the room, surprised as he burst in. One male, one female. James didn't have time to be diplomatic. He punched the man in the face, guessing he was the bigger threat. The woman, however, recovered quickly and grabbed a medical scalpel from a tray to use as a weapon. James figured out pretty quickly she wasn't a trained combatant, but he still had to dodge a couple of stabs and wait for her to overcommit before he delivered a kick to her leg and then a punch to her face as well to send her crashing to the floor.

He rushed over to Reagan. She was conscious, but looked pretty dazed. He realized her neck wasn't strapped down, but there was some kind of collar locked around her neck.

"Reagan" he said, pulling the gag out of her mouth and shaking her head slightly before trying to work on her wrist restraints. "Wake up. Shit." He realized there was an IV hooked to her left arm, probably drugging her, and wasn't sure how safe yanking it out would be, but he had to risk it. He tried to be gentle, but she was half-dazed anyway. "Come on, Reagan. We got to get you out of here."

@setitallaflame liked for a starter with Sarah Rogers

Sarah knew to keep her distance from the target, close enough to interact but far enough that she was out of reach.

She hadn't really been told why, but she didn't need to know why either.

"Tristan Merrick?" Sarah inquired, drawing herself up to her full height.

"My name is Sarah, I'm a friend."

Briar & Tristan | A Walk In The Woods

// Continued from here x - @setitallaflame

“It’s not flattery,” Tristan replied with a shake of his head, sincerely adding. “Just a genuine compliment.” The light from the moon allowed him to see that she’d been living out in the wilderness for a while. Maybe it was a part of her ability, maybe it required her to be among the trees and the plants and general forestry at all times. Or maybe it was simply where she felt most comfortable - being pushed out of the rest of the world by humans; she wouldn’t be the first he’d met to be put in that position.

Still, his words were true. He’d seen or heard stories of many powers in his time as a mutant rights lawyer, but to watch her in action had truly been astounding. Which had him adding, “My sister, she’s a dancer. Everything she does, even just your ordinary every-day walking... There’s a grace to it. Something that’s come from years of practice. That’s what your ability reminds me of - that grace. As if you were making the plants dance.” A beat passed before he shook his head, “I can leave you alone, if you’d like. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, or to startle you. Just wanted to enjoy a walk before dinner.”

"Your not afraid?" Briar asked tilting her head to watch him as he spoke. He seemed to have a nervous energy but it didn't appear to her to be fear. Humans were just another animal and animals could be read, though Humans were vastly more complicated and complex in terms of their thought processes.

She considered his offer to leave her a moment, it had been so long since she'd had someone to talk to though and as much as she liked nature; the trees, the animals, everything in between. She missed human company. She missed laughter and light and the warmth a decent pack of people could bring.

"You didn't interrupt me. Not really. I can make them dance though, well sort of, plants can create music you know. There's even little devices you can get that will play it for you. They enjoy music too, I know it sounds like an old myth but actually it's true. The tunes in my head are hardly vivaldi though." Briar said, lighting up with a smile as she talked. "Is your sister..." Briar let the unsaid word of mutant hang in the air.

@setitallaflame continued from here

Now the smile really was starting to show. Lance shot another quick look at the man next to him, just to show how positively surprised he really was by the conversation. Guess you were right on the money with it all the look on his face said, as soon enough, he gave the man's sister a soft chuckle.

"Funny that you say that. Your brother just told me the same thing about your mother. She sounds like a great woman. Then again, talking to you guys, that doesn't really surprise me" he replied, then let out a little sigh. Once again having to fight a bit - considering all the memories he had of his own.

He kept the silence up for a while as she told him that neither of them were going to accept his money. And wasn't that funny. Even after everything he'd been through, everything he had seen and lost lately, this still was such a novel concept for him. All the people he used to surround himself with before. The studios. The execs and producers...money had been a big deal. To him as well. Yet - he simply didn't have any at the moment. And he was so goddamn tired of it all. So surprisingly, it didn't take him quite as long to accept her kindness and get over his pride.

"Yeah, you're right" he muttered more to himself at first, nodding to himself, gathering the strength to add more weight to his reply.

"Okay. You got me. Just tell me where and when. I'll come by."

(tw: injuries from battle, blood and bleeding) It didn’t hurt, at first.  The adrenalin rush from conflict or imminent danger tricked Stephen Strange, like it did so many patients he’d treated during ER rotations back in the day, into thinking he hadn’t been hurt. It was only when the blood quickly began to seep through his tunic that he knew his body was lying to him, and that he was in a fair amount of trouble. He looked up from his wound to the fallen body of his attacker, clenched tightly in the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak. “Your blood is the first to be spilt, sorcerer,” a deep, angry voice groaned, struggling within its victim’s body as much as the body itself was fighting its bindings.  “Feel every drop of your life drain from you, and know it was I who-”

“Oh, shut up, already,” Stephen said with tired annoyance, waving his hand to adjust the band so it would cover the attacker’s mouth.  “You don’t belong in that young man’s body; he didn’t accept you as your host, and...”

Stephen looked up and saw a portal begin to form, and a group of Mystic Arts acolytes, led by Sorcerer Supreme Wong, stepped through it.

“These guys...they’re here to pull you out of him and...banish you back to the Dark Dimension.  Oh, and give Dormammu my regards.”

He felt his legs give out from under him, and he tumbled to the ground.  “Shit.”  Stephen felt the entire planet spin around him, as if he’d become its axis.  “Uh, Wongers?”

“Don’t call me that; it sounds so wrong when you say it,” his friend and superior replied before spotting the crimson stain growing on Stephen’s clothing.  “Strange!!!”  He quickly ran to Stephen’s side after ordering his acolytes to take the possessed man back to Kamar Taj.

“I...don’t think I have time for the...hospital.  Get me back to the Sanctum.  You...and Clarice...I can walk you through it.”

“You want us to try and patch you up!?”

“Can’t do any worse...than I’m looking right now.”

Wong let out an anxious sigh as he drew open a portal.  The Cloak quickly lifted Stephen into the air and floated him alongside Wong back to the Sanctum.

Stephen saw Clarice approach.  “Bad day...at the office...dear,” he groaned.

@setitallaflame​

🗣️ - Patrick and Reagan lol

Send me 🗣️ for incorrect quotes of your muse and mine

Reagan: Hey Patrick can I get a sip of your water? Patrick: It's not water. Reagan: Vodka, I like your style! Patrick: It's vinegar. Reagan: Wh-Wha- Patrick: It's vinegar, COWARD.

Reagan: Do you take constructive criticism? Patrick: I only take cash or credit.

Reagan: You saved me. I owe you my life. Patrick: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

@setitallaflame cont. from here

IT’S A WONDER THAT SHE FEELS LUCID ENOUGH TO TAKE ON ALL THAT INFORMATION. And even more incredible how calm she feels about it all. Maybe it’s because of the rumours, or maybe it’s because, even before this, her life had been far from a walk in the park. Her abilities had been used by others for almost as long as she’s had them. This is just another set of people who want her for themselves, her own humanity be damned.

“Tomorrow night?” if they’re moving that quickly then she assumes it’s because she doesn’t have long now that she’s been marked for this... program. “Okay,” she wonders briefly if his control over the dream is also what’s making her so collected about the whole thing or if that’s just a lovely side effect of a shitty life. “What’s the plan?”

@setitallaflame​ said: are  you  going  to  kill  me ?

↣ M.OON K.NIGHT SENTENCE STARTERS  

“Why--why would I kill you?” He took a step back, both to show he wasn’t a threat and to make some space between them in case she decided to lash out. “I don’t even know who you are. I’m not the kinda guy who goes around killin’ people he’s never met.” A pause. “I don’t kill people I know, either. In case you were wonderin’.” Stop talking. “Do you--uh--d’you need something? Promise I won’t kill you.” 

reflective prompts 

@setitallaflame​ ❝ … it’s an old wound … i didn’t think it’d still be visible after all this time … ❞ {{&&john&clarice}}

❝old wounds leave scars. it reminds us of what we've over come❞ he said ❝don't be ashamed. be proud. its a mark of your strength.❞ he didn't scar but he still had internal scars and wounds. some he knew may never heel. he smiled at clarice, looking into her green eyes ❝are you sure you'll be alright? i am here if you need me❞

@setitallaflame

Maarten was working late, but that wasn’t new. After the kitchen of the restaurant was cleaned for the night, he sometimes stayed to check out some new recipes. Tweaking them, making sure the flavours were on point before he served anythign to the guests.

That was also the time that Reagan dropped in on him. “I heard you from a mile away.” He told her with that light accented voice as he tasted from his soup. “Did you smell the food?” The chef asked before he looked up at her with a smile. “Get yourself a plate, meisje and sit yourself down.”