brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Sleipnir furrowed his brow, contemplating the idea.  "I suppose that would be acceptable."  Glancing down at his hooves - no, feet, they're called feet in this form - he shifted uncomfortably.  "I would not want to go alone.  I still know so little about Midgardian social customs."

Magni took a moment to think about this. "Yes, I suppose it is like going for a shoeing." He said. "I'll join you, if you like." He said.

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"Is it like going for a shoeing?"

"Because I have heard some of the maidens admiring it!  Also, what if the cut persisted through all my forms?  I have seen horses with short manes, they look as if they wear brooms upon their heads!"

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"Because I have heard some of the maidens admiring it!  Also, what if the cut persisted through all my forms?  I have seen horses with short manes, they look as if they wear brooms upon their heads!"

"How in the Nine do you two-legs keep such unruly manes in order?"

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How are you faring on Ragnarok? Any battles won? //hey//

No, a surprisingly quiet day!  I thought there would be a lot more fire and panicking two-legs!

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"How in the Nine do you two-legs keep such unruly manes in order?"

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Ragnarok’s coming. And I might not be here to burn with you all.

The Norns have foretold my future months to be erratic and unknown, and so I must offer my gifts to these fair followers while I still may. With the prospect of setting sail and taking to the oceans in my destiny, with fierce battles with exam papers and the gruelling knowledge of flying on metal wings to move to the distant land of America in the summer months, such gestures may not come again!

And, so, my viking lads and lasses, I give thee a choice now. 

Two boxes of delicious and wonderful Ragnarok themed goodness. One of good and gold and all that Asgard is supposed to be. One of black and bad and smells faintly of Loki and his trickery. Simply, each box is either side of the battle, and one of them could be yours!

Be warned, however. Should you dare to be daring and choose Loki’s box of tricks, who knows what foul things might be hidden within? Not for the faint of hearted, or those who are not tempered to the spicy fires of the World’s End!

And, should you care for the might of the Realm Eternal, then glory is yours to be had! The wonders of the Bifrost, of magic and marvel at every turn, it shall be yours to behold with no inter-dimensional travel!

What are the rules the Nine Realms must adhere to, I hear you ask.

Reblog, like, donate a blood payment to your nearest shaman to call the gods in your favour, I do not mind. Only beware the irritation that might occur as you chant mystically into the ether around your neighbour’s halls. 

You must cry for Baldr’s murder or, failing that, be following me.

Two victors shall be chosen! The first has rights over the spoils of war, the other must take what is leftover, unless they send a scroll to me begging for mercy and to see the error of their ways. For such display of fear, I will grant them their desired parcel.

You must be prepared to face the fires of Muspelheim or the icy wrath of Jotunheim should you chose the side of evil. There will be no mercy.

You must have your ask/submit/Midgardian communication technology available to me.

You must be living upon the realm of Migard, although I do not care upon which land you rest your head. I ask only that you wait patiently for mineself to collect enough gold to send Huginn and Muginn with your bounty of warfare.

You must alert me to any allergies you might have upon your victory, brave warrior, so that I will not slay you in the aftermath of your glorious battle by a simple peanut.

You must hold the luck of Odin in you heart, and reblog forth!

You have until the Ragnarok comes on the 22nd February, upon the midnight hour when it falls on GMT, to succeed.

God’s speed, my friend, god’s speed.

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Always nice to see him smiling <3

May 18, 2012. Opening Ceremony of the 51th Critic’s Week. Cannes, France.

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Cillian Murphy participated in a collaborative music project held at The Model Sligo on Saturday night as part of Mark Garry’s latest exhibition ‘A Winter Light’. The album will be released later this year. Musicians included Oliver Alcorn, Sean Carpio, Eileen Carpio, Nina Hynes*, Cillian Murphy, Padraig Murphy and Robert Stilman along with Mark Garry and acclaimed French producer and engineer Fabien Leseure.

*Nina Hynes performed So New with Cillian on the Disco Pigs soundtrack way back when

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Open

"Could you help me read this?  I’m afraid I’m not yet proficient in Midgardian."

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Open

"Could you help me read this?  I'm afraid I'm not yet proficient in Midgardian."

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Hold on to your helmets: Lady Sif (@JaimieAlexander) will be making a guest appearance on @Marvel's #AgentsOfSHIELD! http://t.co/IwsHLQGKl7

— Thor: The Dark World (@ThorMovies)

January 17, 2014

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Sleipnir nodded, his unruly locks falling into his eyes as he does so; some things do not change, even if his shape does.  "I woke like this on the outskirts of Asgard some time ago.  I was confused, scared, and weaker than I have been since I was a foal, shivering in the grass at mother's feet."

He let his brother nose at him for a few moments before kneeling down and extending his hands towards the wolf's dangling paw.  "Hold still, this should only take a moment.  It may still sting somewhat while I work the spell."  He smiled sheepishly.  "I am still learning to control these abilities."

The smile faded quickly.  "Who has done this to you?  Who has managed to harm you in such a way?"

Lost

Sleipnir wants nothing more than to reach out and embrace his brother, more-so that ever before now that he has the ability to do so, but he knows that doing so will only cause his sibling more pain in this state.

"Yes, it is I, though not in a form you would recognize."  His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  "Apparently mother passed some latent magickal abilities to me as well."

His hands twitch at his sides, and he keeps from wringing them only through sheer force of will.  “I may not be as skilled as some of those on Asgard, but…please, brother, allow me to heal your wounds.”

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Sleipnir wants nothing more than to reach out and embrace his brother, more-so that ever before now that he has the ability to do so, but he knows that doing so will only cause his sibling more pain in this state.

"Yes, it is I, though not in a form you would recognize."  His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.  "Apparently mother passed some latent magickal abilities to me as well."

His hands twitch at his sides, and he keeps from wringing them only through sheer force of will.  "I may not be as skilled as some of those on Asgard, but...please, brother, allow me to heal your wounds."

Lost

Sleipnir can smell the blood long before he sees it, just as he can smell the fear and anger; between his usual senses and what magicks he has mastered, they are almost tangible.  There is another scent, but it is drowned beneath the others, with only faint hints actually reaching him.

He rounds the final bend in the path at a sprint (still nowhere near as quickly as he could go if he shifted forms, but he can tell that he is near, so his two-legged form is sufficient) and comes to an abrupt stop at the snarled warning.  He takes in the horror before him, the figure still in transition from one form to the next, blood running from still-fresh wounds.  At last, he is able to discern the creature’s unique scent, and identify the owner.  His voice is nothing but an incredulous whisper.  “Fenrir?  Brother?”

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Sleipnir can smell the blood long before he sees it, just as he can smell the fear and anger; between his usual senses and what magicks he has mastered, they are almost tangible.  There is another scent, but it is drowned beneath the others, with only faint hints actually reaching him.

He rounds the final bend in the path at a sprint (still nowhere near as quickly as he could go if he shifted forms, but he can tell that he is near, so his two-legged form is sufficient) and comes to an abrupt stop at the snarled warning.  He takes in the horror before him, the figure still in transition from one form to the next, blood running from still-fresh wounds.  At last, he is able to discern the creature's unique scent, and identify the owner.  His voice is nothing but an incredulous whisper.  "Fenrir?  Brother?"

Lost

There is blood.

There is blood and it is his and the stench of it sears his nose until it is all he can smell, and it drips into his honey-gold eyes until they tarnish and he can no longer see. All he has left are his ears and the rage coiled tightly around the pain and laced through with fear. 

His dark fur is matted with blood and the scabs of wounds attempting to heal before they are torn open again, and his right front paw hangs in the air before him, twisted at an angle that isn’t possible for wolf or man. Dark green wisps of magic curl around him, lashing through the air uncontrollably, magic that is and is not his, that he does not know and does not summon. 

He can sense someone before him, in this new realm that he has escaped to through the gate before he was slashed above the eyes and lost his sight. He does not know where he is or who this is, and he snarls, “Get back!" his voice guttural and hitched as it is torn between the voice of wolf and man, his hackles up. He would have shifted back to human long before if he thought he could survive as such, but he could not run as fast or cut as deep, and the wolf healed faster than the man. The wolf could protect him even as exhaustion threatened to force him to the dirt, his three good legs as wobbly as a child’s. 

But he would not fall. Not yet.

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Reblog if your mun is a girl.

She’s a girl?!

[brokenbymyfatherskeeper-blog]

Sleipnir smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.  "A little touchy today, aren't we, mother?"

"Oh, you again? Entertain me or please, do leave me to my thoughts…"