#emeraldhellfire

[groovyxgenes]

❝ oh, well that’s - that’s just the most beautiful thing i’ve ever - i don’t know what this is. ❞

Deadpool 2 Sentence Starters

Charles chuckles at Lorna’s frown. She stares at the old photograph handed to her in confusion. “That’s me,” Charles smiles, pointing to the shorter young man in the picture. “And that is your father.” His eyes light up as he stares at the photo of himself and Erik in 1962, standing in front of the mansion, arms around each other’s backs. Charles’ smile was wide, while Erik’s remained a quiet smirk. 

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

[ancmalyy-archive-blog]

@emeraldhellfire | liked for cesar

    “i’m so sorry, he just gets excited sometimes. he’s in training. ” cesar pats down a chocolate lab, one he’s been fostering, while his dog Jesse sits patiently by his leg. “i hope he didn’t bother you too much, jumping and all.”

[selfishsoulstm]

@emeraldhellfire liked for a starter. // rosita+lorna

              things   with   rosita   always   seemed   to   be   her   way   or   the   highway.   she   wasn’t   fond   of   being   told   what   to   do   and   as   a   result   ,   she   didn’t   respond   well   to   it.   her   expression   was   that   of   anger   ,   but   it   was   subtle.   ❝    my   way   is   safer   and   will   get   the   job   done    ❞    she   told   her.   it   may   get   the   job   done   but   it   certainly   may   not   be   the   safest   way.

[anditsxsorrows-archive]

@emeraldhellfire ~ cont’d - after 500 years?

it stung. it certainly wouldn't kill him but the blood loss rapidly enhanced his thirst and the longer he'd be without it - he'd be in no shape to go on defending or defeating. Of course she was far more than enough to hold her own but an immortal partner? The reason she went along with him sticking around but why he had? he's honestly not sure but the very idea that an entire species was being targeting for being different it sat in him heavily. Of course his hands were by no way clean but these wankers needed to be picked off one by one until the world was a little less stained because of it.

he hears her voice like it's in some faraway haze but his senses flare the moment he smells her skin come clsoer. he immediately clasps her arm to tug her wrist to his mouth. he doesn't even think about it, his hunger urging him as his fangs drop and right then sink through her skin.

her blood is sweet as it touches his tongue and his eyes close on the feeling of rejuvenation that crawls through his veins. She tastes somewhat different than an average mortal, far different than the spark of magic from a witch's blood. It's more than enough to usher in healing as her blood slides down his throat. A small noise is made because he tells himself subconsciously to let her go. Too much blood taken would be dangerous, he knows that.

Finally he forces himself to let her go, carefully so as to not waste any of her blood. It's not a nasty wound, he'd made sure of that. His vision is clearer as he looks over at her where she sits. " You might get a touch weaker. " he tells her, his tongue catching the dribble of blood that's stained his lips. " We might want to get that closed up - if you don't mind the taste of blood. " he'll save the thrown out comments about how easily she'd offered her own blood over to him for when she's all healed up. " Better to get this over with before a few more of those idiots show up ." and he does have the quiet wondering of whether or not she'll enjoy pulling from him as much as he did doing the same to her.

[venomfilo-archive]

@emeraldhellfire

“There’s someone following you,” Harry says as he slides into step beside her.

From the rooftops, Harry watched a rather plain looking man tailing this woman for several blocks. Nothing about his person looked overtly suspicious, but something about his stride instantly set the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

He’d thought about dropping down in his suit and dispatching the man before he could act on whatever was in his head, but without proof that he was up to something, his new alter-ego would be the one in trouble. 

So here he is, suit having morphed into streetwear that compliments her own, offering this stranger the crook of his arm as though they’re close.

[rcttle]

@emeraldhellfire from x

THE MANAGER IN question was a stout, balding gentleman, with a gut that arrived in the room five minutes before he did. He was a man Rattle had only ever met twice and neither time had left a lasting impression; now, thanks to the mental image of Nosferatu superimposed on the somewhat mole-like man, he’s going to have a hard time keeping a straight face should he ever meet him again. Talk about making a rod for your own back, it was bad enough that he practically choked from trying to swallow and snort out a laugh at the same time. He wipes the bottom of his glass on the napkin atop the bar from where the motion has caused the sticky soda to dribble down the side.

“Well now I’m not gonna be able to picture him as anythin’ but a bad Lugosi cosplayer, cos Brad Pitt he ain’t. Closer to Danny de Vito’s Penguin in that one Batman movie.” Not exactly a vampire and perhaps more of an insult than he intended, but Rattle’s no movie buff and he’s lacking in references. “Anyway, he’s less ‘I want to suck your blood’ --” he knows it’s meant to be Romanian, but the closest he can come is the thick Russian of his mother but he does a decent enough job at sinking his teeth into the ‘W’s and over-pronouncing the harder sounds, “-- and closer to ‘I wish to drain your bank account dry’.”

It’s not much of an explanation and he leans back on his bar stool, rolling his neck and shoulders to try and work out the knots he can feel there from being hunched over equipment that were mounted too low -- a problem he always got when he played this particular club. “Apparently the guy that owns this place also owns a small record label. Tried to get me to sign exclusivity. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that.” He takes another mouthful of his soda, lips turning down at the taste of a coke that was cheap and obviously bought in for the sole purpose of mixing with something stronger. Right now he wished it was. “I don’t think he was expecting my answer, might have to find an alternative watering hole in the future because I don’t think I’ll be overly welcome here after tonight.”

[hopegained-a]

♡

PRE - ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEMEsend a �� and i’ll fill this out for our muses

FRIENDS.   childhood friends  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to my muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

[knowseverythingaboutyou]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.   repost with the information of your muse,  including headcanons,  etc.  if you fail to achieve some of the facts,  add some others of your own !

NAME. Maria Hill NICKNAME(S).  None SPECIES. Human AGE.  34 GENDER. Cis female ORIENTATION. Bisexual INTERESTS. World Security. Coffee. PROFESSION. SHIELD Assistant Director. Super Spy.  BODY TYPE.  Lean EYES. Blue HAIR. Brown HEIGHT. 5′9″ COMPANIONS. Nick Fury FAMILY.  Deceased or disinherited. LOVE INTERESTS. who has time for love  ANTAGONISTS. the US Government, World Security Council, HYDRA COLORS. navy blue. red. FRUITS.  apple DRINKS. coffee, water, tea ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? beer. SMOKES? no, (undercover exception) DRUGS? no  (Only prescription medication) DRIVERS LICENSE ?  yes.

TAGGED BY: @emeraldhellfire  TAGGING: anyone who sees this! i’m new, i don’t know if you’d appreciate a tag ;)

[alousysuperhero]

@emeraldhellfire from X:

( ✉ → sms | ???) I think you’ve got the wrong number. ( ✉ → sms | ???) But for what it’s worth, Luis sounds like an asshole. ( ✉ → sms | ???) Go you for putting your foot down. ( ✉ → sms | ???) You don’t have to take that crap. Be your own person! ( ✉ → sms | ???) Tell that jerk you’re worth more than that, and then make him take you out for steak before you dump him.

[ sms  → not luis] kind of a terrible business partner at the moment. [ sms  → not luis] not going to get too far into that with a stranger. [ sms  → not luis] sorry. nothing against you. [ sms  → not luis] i’d definitely dump his after a steak dinner, but there’s only so much I can do towards this company right now.

[accelerhearted-blog]

📂 📂 📂 📂

Send 📂 for a useless headcanon!

@emeraldhellfire

1. Pietro is not a fan of heights. He can handle himself just fine, but they make him incredibly uncomfortable. 

2. He was not exposed to much media as a child - especially after the whole bomb incident and the twins lost their family. When he comes to America (in AU land because he totally didn’t die in Sokovia, nope, never happened) him and Wanda are shown movies and games and all sorts of things they didn’t have much of growing up. Yes, he had to leave the room when Mufasa died during Lion King. If anyone asks, he just had to pee, he wasn’t crying. Nope.

3. Pietro fronts. A lot. He’s naturally a bit silly, pulling pranks is a past time, he likes making people laugh/being an absolute pain - those are all things true to his genuine personality. However, he’s quite soft and he does have a lot of insight and these are some things he prefers to keep as hidden as he can - the only person who really knows how deep he is/can be is Wanda until he makes a strong connection with someone else.

4. He is absolutely that bastard that will quietly hit you with bowser shells in mario kart, or save up red shells to hit you with at the very possible last moment to screw up your big win. No one should have ever shown him mario kart, ever.

[ivoryribcage]

❝i think i just saw something move outside your window…is someone watching us?❞

@emeraldhellfire | 🍁 Autumn/Halloween Sentences 🍁 | ACCEPTING

Her eyes narrowed at once. The wards that had been placed on the grounds earlier in the month had been done so with the explicit purpose of shielding the estate from unwanted attention in preparation of their appointment. “There shouldn’t be. Not unless it’s one of ours. I designed the specifics such that no one could set foot here without approval from either my husband or myself. But just in case, I’ll send someone to investigate.” Though for as thorough and as formidable as she’d studied to be, Veata was not so proud as to dismiss the chance that her spell might be breached. Or perhaps a too curious individual thought to eavesdrop on Lorna and herself.

She’d encouraged her husband to lead his people – werecreatures – deep into the wilderness housed on their estate, but the men and the women that comprised her coven were capable enough to be trusted with a simple, thorough search. Her hand reached for her phone to send a brief text message before she offered a warm smile of reassurance to the younger female. “I intend to make good on our promise that you and I are safe to discuss more sensitive matters,” she said. “Before we begin though would you care for a drink? We have the most lovely tea blend that uses herbs from the gardens.”

The aroma of the herbal tea blend permeated the room as she began to pour a mug for herself from the tray that had been prepared at her request – and another for her guest had she wished for it – before the high priestess returned to her seat that sat opposite of the one she’d offered the unfamiliar Lorna Dane. “To cut straight to the point, Miss Dane, after reviewing the evidence your coven sent, I agree with the earlier assessment that a werewolf is responsible for these attacks. However despite their rather unfortunate consequences – and the loss of lives is indeed unfortunate – I do not believe these are malicious attacks.” She paused to allow herself a brief sip of satisfaction from her ceramic mug.

“As your coven may or may not know, my husband is a werecreature himself. I am intimately familiar with his ilk, and these deaths – their fierceness, their sloppiness – look more like the work of a recently turned individual. One that has, in my opinion, been left without guidance.” The words of favor that she’d prepared were asking much. Veata was well aware. But she had her reasons. “If your coven does find the person responsible, I’d like them brought here for an assessment of their mental state. The loss of lives and the threat of exposure that has brought on us is not a trivial matter, but if we are discussing someone that has been turned without a mentor I do not know that blame can be placed wholly on their shoulders.” 

[webquip]

Mistletoe (on purpose)

mistletoe kiss | accepting

“Woah, wha--” When she pulls him underneath an awning by the front of his winter coat, he’s not sure what to think, but it becomes clear sooner rather than later. “Oh!”

She’d very intentionally pulled the both of them under a Christmas-themed display, and in the very center of it was a bundle of the notorious evergreen. He wonders if she’d planned this; the sign’s details certainly hadn’t been easy to see from where they’d been on the sidewalk.

“Mistletoe, huh?” He teases, grinning as he gently takes Lorna’s chin between this thumb and forefinger, tilting it up. “Is this why you wanted to walk down this street?”

He bites his own lip hesitantly, frozen as he gazes into her eyes. Lorna has been so open with him, so honest about who she is, but he’s not been able to return the favor. He might never tell her everything; not with how dangerous that’s proven for the people he’s told in the past. Would it be right to put her through that?

     C’mon, Pete, you’re taking too long, he tells himself, trying to shake past the feelings of dishonesty taking root in his chest. She’s going to think the wrong thing.

And sure enough, he can see it; she’s overthinking his silence, his inaction. So just when he thinks she’s about to pull away, as something in her eyes flickers, Peter leans in, throwing caution to the wind as his lips capture hers. Despite the urgency in which he’d initiated the kiss, he slows himself down, savoring little things: the way her lips feel as they part to welcome his tongue, her scent, the way her skin and hair feels under his fingers as his hand travels from her chin to the nape of her neck.

It all come to an abrupt end, however, when and older woman huffs indignantly as she walks past, purposefully bumping into Peter’s arm.

“Get off the sidewalk and get a room,” she yells over her shoulder as the two part, showcasing some of New York’s famous charm.

Peter, with his fingers to his reddened lips, meets Lorna’s eyes and laughs.

[vmpyrtm-a]

         “ this  is  my  territory, ”  henry began, not quite unkindly but certainly guarded and less than welcoming. it had been almost a century since henry had crossed paths with her coven, a wide spread underground group that had taken it upon themselves to protect their wider community by judging those whom threatened to expose their existence to humans. despite how henry may disagree with some of their previous methods and punishments, there was no denying that they were needed. it had been a handful of weeks since the killing had began in henry’s territory, from the messy kills and the way the public had been made aware of them henry had deduced that it was a young vampire, one that had been turned and abandoned before they had been taught how to survive in the shadows. he had begun to track the creature with the intention of putting it down before it drew any further attention to itself and by extension, to him,  “ and  i  don’t  appreciate  uninvited  guests. ”  //  @emeraldhellfire  ♡’d  for  a  starter

[allofusandco]

how to save a life

@emeraldhellfire

It wasn’t as though David ever really got very tired, but. Long night.

Actually, an amendment. He never really got physically tired, at least not without some serious spellwork going on, but he really could get tired of people. There had been a time when this country was nothing but glorious space. Geography. You could hear yourself think.

David tried not to use a lot of compulsion, especially in the hospital. They were saving lives, here, and needed to be able to think, improvise. Compelled people tended to be kinda stupid. However, there were a few exceptions, and the blood bank employees were among them.

It was only a simple compulsion, obviously. Nothing that interfered with their work. Just, when he arrived, they gave him a bag of whatever was plentiful at the time, and he, in return, encouraged healthy family members to donate blood. Keeping himself sated was the only way to avoid little slips on nights when the ER was awash with blood.

Not those kinds of accidents, for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t a child. But if someone looked up at the wrong time, and saw the hint of a curved fang descend from behind his upper lip, or saw the veins across his face ripple darkly, he could have a mess to clean up. And that would take time away from the considerably more pressing work of keeping people alive.

“Thanks, Jessica,” he said, as he wiped the last drip from the corner of his lip, and transferred the bag to the medical waste bin.

“You’re welcome, Dr Carter,” she said, already beginning to forget why, and returning to inventorying supplies.

And back upstairs, feeling considerably better, just in time to be grabbed by a paramedic wheeling a kid of about ten into the ER.

“GCS of 7 when we picked him up, dropped to 4 in the ambulance,” she was saying. “There’s a lot of blood but I don’t think much of it is his.”

“Parents?” David opened the little boy’s eyes and shone light into them. His pupils dilated, and for a moment, David thought he saw something very aware looking back at him. Not something he immediately recognized. He pressed his fingers against the boy’s wrist. Rapid, and shallow, unlike his breathing, which wouldn’t have been shit without the oxygen mask on his face.

The paramedic shook her head in a way that suggested the little boy had probably just seen something no kid should have to. For a second, David again cursed the limits of his abilities. Nothing he could do for trauma. Nothing that would save a moment’s time, anyway.

“Trauma 2,” he said, before grabbing a nurse.

The paramedic, who was the very efficient, sensible type that David preferred, was already gone. Unfortunately, the nurse was blessed with an overabundance of empathy, and an under-abundance of being able to keep it to herself, already fretting over what she’d heard.

“On the off-chance he can hear you, I’m going to go ahead and ask you to be a lot more positive,” he said, as they cut the little boy’s shirt off him, carefully. “We’re gonna fix you up, little guy,” he added.

Maybe a couple of broken ribs, some cuts and contusions. They rolled him carefully onto his side, and David saw what looked like scratches on his back. Bad ones. “Some kind of wild animal,” he said, although when he traced his finger along the edge, trying to get a feel, he knew it wasn’t a natural animal. Not a werewolf. Something he hadn’t seen before.

Shit.

“Need to get him up to X-ray. And get an MRI,” he said.

“X-ray is backed up. MRI is down, it’s being fixed as we speak.”

David swore under his breath as he cut down the side of the boy’s sweatpants. “Well, get him in the queues, anyway, and get me a johnny.”

“Yes, doctor,” the nurse said, leaving just as a woman arrived, her face a lot sterner than seemed to match her green hair.

“Are you family?” he asked. “Do you know what happened?”

[nxmhe]

@emeraldhellfire | small starter call

“This-- isn’t what it looks like...” It was quite an ironic selection of words to use, given the degree of the mess he was in. Discounting the number of unconscious bodies littering the floor at his feet, all of Eddie’s form was wreathed in the ebony essence of his dangerous other; all except for his face which as rows upon rows of glistening ivories pulled back to expose looked surprisingly serene.     “They’re -- they’re not dead, okay? Just.... knocked out cold?”

[notalwaysgood]

‘well, you got a name?’

“Everyone’s got a name, ma’am; even those who say they don’t.” He’s being deliberately obtuse and he knows it, just as he has been with every other scrap of information he’s given out. The less people know the better and he’s learned over the years exactly how much to give and what to hold back; it didn’t matter who they were or how much power they held, it was always easier to get information with the carrot, rather than the stick. 

He leans back on his chair to the groan of wood, a blunt finger nail tapping against a glass side of the tumbler on the table, the dark amber liquid inside dancing to the erratic staccato as he weighs his options. The bar’s quiet, dark, old fashioned in the sense that it hasn’t been updated into modernity rather than deliberately styled. It’s not openly threatening, but he can still feel eyes on him – as if the locals aren’t used to outsiders (or if they are, previous outsiders have caused trouble). The observation doesn’t bother him, it’s not exactly foreign, but it does make him choose his words and actions very carefully. Especially seeing as the young woman sat opposite him seems to definitely belong.

“Marston,” he says, finally, after taking a mouthful of the cheap bourbon that does not go down as smoothly as he’d like. “John Marston.” He’s grateful of the anonymity that being a long way from home brings, back in West Elizabeth, he’s unfortunately well known to the dwindling and ageing population – well away, he’s a nobody, just another man on a bike. Generic, save for the scars, and even then people tended to forget when their world revolved around their cell phones. “I don’t suppose you can get your friend behind the bar to stop glarin’ at me, Miss…?”

@emeraldhellfire | westerns! | accepting