Fire-Dancer

rp blog for dustfinger from inkheart | feat. basta | carrd

[therapardalis]

justanotherrpmeme

Distracted by the Sexy starters

"Uh, hey, I was just, uh, wondering…"

"Seriously, my face is up here."

"Sorry, it's just… you look, um, really nice today."

"Can we focus on the task at hand, please?"

"I can't help it, you're just… distracting."

"Save the compliments for later, we have work to do."

"Okay, watch this time. No distractions."

"Maybe you should get your eyes checked."

"Are you even paying attention?"

The sender walks into something while ogling the receiver.

The receiver rolls eyes at the distracted sender.

The sender, trying to impress, offers to carry something for the receiver.

The receiver catches the sender attempting a sneak peek at them.

The sender, daydreaming about the receiver, almost walks into a closed door.

The sender, distracted by the receiver, accidentally knocks over something.

The sender, attempting to impress, flexes their muscles nonchalantly.

The sender, lost in thought, forgets what they were supposed to be doing.

The sender, attempting a suave move, opens a door for the receiver but walks into the doorframe.

[antioceas]

Yes? No? What did such a growl mean? Surely, it was at least a threat - that it would kill her if she stepped out of line. Unfortunately, with the vast chasm of language between them, Eirena couldn't even name where that line may be.

For a brief second, she stumbled back, terror seizing her limbs. While she did eventually sprint to keep up with the Nightmare, it was on unsteady feet. Was she going to her death?

The lair... the lair was more than she expected and somehow not enough. This is where her story would come to an end, she realized. This was where she faced her doom. At least it wasn't her sister. That's what she had to keep telling herself.

[firejugglinghobo]

The Night-Mare had unknowingly returned to a place that had been familiar to it in life. It had made its home in the burned shell of a castle, so long abandoned that it had become overgrown with vines and the foliage and roots of oaks.

The creature pushed its captive over the threshold, prodding her in the back with a sharp claw, reminiscent of the knife that had once been almost an extension of its own hand.

It had been a long time since any living being had dared enter these walls. The roof overhead was collapsed in places, sunlight filtering down in shafts that punctuated the darkness. Not a breeze stirred within; the stagnation and vague smell of smoke was enough to keep most animals out, if the sense of fear that pervaded the place wasn't.

"Master?"

A high, thin, reedy voice tremored from somewhere on the second floor.

The Night-Mare huffed impatiently, seeing the spindly limbs and opaque face of the glass-man in its mind, knowing that the title with which he addressed it could not rightfully belong to it.

It pushed the girl forward again, ignoring the tinkling of tiny feet dashing across the floor above, as the little man rushed to get a look at its returning captor from the top of the ruined and useless staircase.

[azafell]

@firejugglinghobo said:

"Why do you know so much about me?"

inspired by: Amnesia Prompts

A frown creased his forehead as two things became clear to the angel. One: the man he had greeted on the street was, indeed, Dustfinger; and two: he did not remember Aziraphale.

"Oh dear - you don't remember me at all, do you?"

[firejugglinghobo]

"No."

Clearly, he was meant to, or at least expected to.

"I'd say you've got the wrong man, but..."

The stranger knew far too much to have simply mistaken him for somebody else. But he cut a far too distinctive figure for Dustfinger to simply have forgotten him.

"You haven't answered my question."

[doubleofloor]

What was she? Intriguing question. Was that phrasing related to the distance? Did he assume the source of the prodding was not simply a mutant, a variant of a human, but a being of another kind?

The source contemplated the question, allowing the silence to linger...

"What are you?" She returned finally, deciding to think over her answer further. To ponder whether retaining the mystery could be useful. "You, with the warmth that calls for you in the distance?" Well, that was more lyrical than how she usually spoke. It was just... the most apt description she could give.

[firejugglinghobo]

Dustfinger's eyes darted around rapidly, searching for the source of the voice and finding none.

"I'm...a man."

What did the question mean? He wasn't mysterious in any way. Just a man, trying to mind his business and stay out of the way of anything dangerous, and clearly not succeeding.

"What warmth calls me?"

[milleansxmort]

“Somebody like me?” Celeste asks, finally turning brown eyes up to peer at the man.

She knows what he means — short even for a woman; built in a slightly round, curvy way that suggests a very soft and classical form of femininity; pretty enough to be desirable even if she is still far outside the super model mold. The kind of woman cruel, violent men love to prey on. The kind of woman that would find themselves vulnerable to them. It’s something she likes to play up, wearing what she wears to make herself seem safer to the women she fed on and to give herself the element of surprise when someone else thought they could get over on her, but it’s not something she likes to hear. Especially not now that she has her memories back and can so clearly remember how monstrous those types of men can really get, and how helpless three young women can be when faced with them.

The look on her face is only quizzical though, as if she doesn’t understand. Calling him out on his false view of her without inciting the things she’d rather avoid.

“I assure you I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone else to do it for me, and that includes my husband.”

[firejugglinghobo]

"Sure."

He agrees in a way that isn't sarcastic, but isn't quite sincere, either. His tone is more dismissive than anything. He doesn't put enough stock in what she's saying to fully listen to, let alone believe, her.

Basta angles his body toward her, readjusting his shoulder against the wall behind him.

"All the same. Maybe you just don't know the sort that tends to come out at night. Not such a good idea to linger on a dark street corner..."

[helreginn]

"Hah-" Came a breath of incredulous laughter. He said it as if it were so complicated - as if it were so simple. "You humans sure do love to ascribe morality to action, don't you?" She muttered to herself, shaking her head against weighty fingers as she stared at the ground.

After a beat, Hel schooled her expression as she lifted her face towards his. Her voice softened, frustration dulled against the curl of her tongue as she replied, "There was no decide. I try my best to offer comfort where I'm able. But yes," She nodded once and turned her fingers up towards the man, "you were there. And I was able. No thought, just raw instinct. I cannot explain it. I cannot justify it. And you, you need to stop overthinking it. "

She wished that words were enough, that he, in all his knowledge-sought memory reminded himself that though her shape is womanly, her breed is bestial.

[firejugglinghobo]

How could he stop overthinking it? He was in a contract of some sort, which he didn't remember agreeing to, with a supernatural being, who he didn't understand. He didn't know the terms of the contract, and so far he had only ever heard one side of it.

But maybe Hel didn't understand it either. Maybe it was okay to take her at her word, and drop the term contract from his mind. And just simply take their relationship for what it looked like on the surface -- a friendship. One-sided, imbalanced, irrational. But just two people who had found that they gravitated toward one another.

"Fine."

He tried to smile and wasn't sure that he did a very good job of it.

"But you'll tell me when you start getting any ideas of wanting something in return."

[firejugglinghobo]

//can we talk about how the edit gear looks like a little flower behind his ear? <3

[mythshire]

✦ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ✦ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄 ··· a collection of injuries tended in silence, pain worn like armour, the intimacy of being seen at your worst. genre: hurt and comfort, angst, romance, drama.

• You're bleeding through your shirt. Don't tell me you're fine. • How long have you been walking around like this? • I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see how bad it is. • You should have told me the moment it happened. • Hold still. I mean it. Hold still. • This is going to sting. Bite down on something if you need to. • You've been hiding this for days, haven't you. • Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this. • Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you. • I've seen worse. I've also seen men die from worse, so let me look at it. • I found the bandages in the trash. You want to explain that? • Don't you dare apologize for bleeding on me. • Your hands are cold. That's not a good sign. • I'm not angry. I'm terrified. There's a difference. • Come into the light. Let me see your face. • You should have stitches. I know you won't go. So sit down and let me do what I can. • You're white as a sheet and still trying to stand up straight. • I could hear you in the night. I didn't say anything. I'm saying something now. • Don't look at it if it makes it worse. Just look at me. • It's not weak to let someone see you hurt. • You came to me. Of all the places you could have gone, you came here.  • Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face. • I'm not going to ask what happened. Not yet. First let me fix what I can. • You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Think I didn't notice? • This is going to leave a mark. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. • I've patched up a lot of people in my time. None of them scared me like you do right now. • You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know. • Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere. • You're allowed to make a sound. Nobody's watching. • I need you to stay awake for me. Just a little longer. Talk to me. • You're lucky the cut wasn't deeper.  • Stop apologizing for needing help. Stop it right now. • I've seen what it looks like when someone's used to this. That's what scares me most about you. • Tell me your name. Tell me what day it is. Stay with me. • You're going to be alright. I promise you.  • You went back out there after this? With this? • Nobody takes care of you, do they? That ends tonight. • I've been gentle with you. I need you to be honest with me in return. • You're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.

[haronson]

[honest2godd]

Send in 📜 and I’ll use this incorrect quotes generator using your muse and my muse. (Please specify how many muses//which muses for multimuse blogs!!)

[byeletty]

Andrew Scott ladies and gentlemen!!

[this-bug-reads]

More proof of my love for Cornelia’s works. The original Inkheart trilogy had me in a chokehold for years. Someday I’ll read the new 4th book, but I’ve heard it just doesn’t hit the same. 🥲

[sadiebrin]

Lip curling with a burning disdain, Sadie watched as the man handled the knife. Her knife. She'd won it once, and she intended to again. The flip was familiar. Dark hair, longer. No suits, but largely black attire. A series of jabs and slices she was forced to dodge and parry, or suffer the consequences.

Despite the knife in hand, she noted the way this man's gaze flickered to his own on the ground. An attachment? Or simply a desire for more power? Regardless, she wasn't about to ask Dustfinger to retrieve it.

Sadie craned her head to keep an eye on her adversary, and took her opportunity to crouch. The moment her hand touched the ground, turquoise energy seeped in. She could use the pavement to grab hold of the slime-ball's legs, but that would leave his hands free and armed. She could bring the pavement up further and make a go at his arms, or sink him mostly into the ground, but both option would take a moment, and she didn't trust him not to lash out at a sign of trouble. So, she curled a snake of pavement around the knife handle and tossed it her own way, free hand snatching it from the air with practiced ease.

A brow raised in the dark haired man's direction. More threats. "I threw you into the wall, because you kept getting in my space. Now you have yours, I have mine. Threaten us again and you and the wall will be re-acquainted." She kept her tone as level as she could. Matter of fact. Only the slight tremble of adrenaline. She maintained her crouch. "What do you want him for?"

[firejugglinghobo]

Basta moved the moment Sadie did, not going for the knife, but lunging forward, sneaking easily past Dustfinger's defenses as he glanced down to make sure Sadie wasn't taking any aggressive action. Basta's thumb pressed under Dustfinger's chin, tilting his head back sharply, then sliding the tip of the blade into place holding him there.

In a practiced dance, Basta spun, taking his captive with him, wrapping an arm around his chest and holding him in front of himself, protecting his own body from any counterattack from Sadie.

Dustfinger choked, eyes blinking tight in fear.

"None of your business," Basta spat, hauling Dustfinger backward.

"Stop, I want to go!" Dustfinger gasped.

His arms dropped passively to his sides, displaying his empty hands, doing his best not to struggle or put up any sort of a fight.

"I want to go with him, Sadie. You can follow, just let me go with him."

Basta's mouth split into a soulless grin, his head tipped back in a bark of dry laughter.

"I've got something he wants, Sadie. Something he'd do anything to get his hands on."

[eclecticshenanigans]

"Thank you. But she's still here," he replied, placing two hands on his chest, "in my hearts. And around us, of course."

He made simple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the two of them. "You're not allergic to anything, are you," he asked, realizing he should've asked before making these. The Director put the crisps on the side of the plates and handed Dustfinger one.

[firejugglinghobo]

Hearts. Multiple.

Dustfinger kept that at the back of his mind for later. He didn't try to argue; it was natural to believe that those we loved continued with us, in one sense or another.

"Can't afford to be."

He took the plate gratefully, eagerly. It had been a while since he'd had a square meal, and though this was nothing fancy, it was at least enough to quiet the subtle ache of his stomach.

[eclecticshenanigans]

(Ignore caption lol)

The Doctor nonchalantly protected himself from the knife. He let the other man say his piece. He then noticed the hesitation, the fear, maybe? It has been a while since someone feared him. Well, this face anyway.

"Maybe the TARDIS wanted you here. She can be a bit not temperamental but invasive, that's the word," he exclaimed. The ship made a noise and he patted the console. "Sorry, love. Anyway, I don't have your friend. I'm not a threat unless you make me one, and could you please put the knife down before I take it from you," he asked with a tired sigh.

[firejugglinghobo]

"The...what?"

Basta gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm, to hear the answer out, to lower the knife a few inches.

Appearances can be deceiving. Anything can be a threat.

Physically, the owner of this...ship...was bigger than Basta, probably could best him in a contest of pure strength. But that likely meant he was slower. And he didn't have a weapon immediately handy. So either he didn't need one, or he wasn't accustomed to defending himself and could be taken advantage of it came to a fight.

[eclecticshenanigans]

Sara looked to Dustfinger which made the fireballs fizzle out, her hands covered in soot and slight burns but she doesn't seem to notice. "Connection. You seem connected, bonded even with fire. I-I don't know how to do that. I want it to be a part of me," she said. And not have the darker parts of my magic take control, the witch thought to herself.

[firejugglinghobo]

The time had come for honesty. It rarely did, where fire was concerned. But there was nothing else that Dustfinger could give Sara, it seemed.

"I can't tell you that."

His tone was gentler than before, soothing as one might calm a child.

"It's not safe -- for you, for me, for...others. I'm the one who guards that secret, and I only fear what might be done with it if I were to let it slip."

He wasn't accusatory or suspicious. Just realistic.

[helreginn]

Hel's stare lowered and rose as his curiosity grew. She wondered where his words might take him. Wondered how brave he might be to speak them.

She didn't resent the queries anymore. A child learns through asking. And all denizens of Midgard felt like a child to her now. A thousand years strewn across their few decades, made their lives seem like a toddlers in comparison.

"You know nothing of giants, do you?" She quirked a little grin as she watched apprehension dance across his features. He seemed so unsure of himself, and still he spoke. Like a mother cat - aware of the child who stalks - she waited and watched and played along, amused and aware of growth's need for curiosities sated.

"I was born in the deepest cold of winter." She offered, a nonchalant reply. "The youngest and only daughter."

[firejugglinghobo]

Giants...

He had heard the rumors; he had seen the nests to the north, said once to have been the homes of beings taller than trees. But nobody in living memory had seen one.

Truthfully, he did know nothing of giants, particularly if Hel was implying that she was in any way related to them. He'd heard that they were kindhearted, yet dimwitted, which Hel certainly was not.

It made sense that she would be born in winter, a daughter following several sons. It matched her temperament. But that didn't answer his question.

"But where?" he pressed.