fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

ARCHIVED

Fenrir has started to feel more and more cluttered as of late, what with my endless icon style/tag/url changes, and so I thought a move was best. I won’t be active on him for a while, mostly because I’m still in the process of making his new icons, but you can now find Fenrir and I over here.

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

ARCHIVED

Fenrir has started to feel more and more cluttered as of late, what with my endless icon style/tag/url changes, and so I thought a move was best. I won’t be active on him for a while, mostly because I’m still in the process of making his new icons, but you can now find Fenrir and I over here.

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

            DEVOUR, DEVOUR, IT’S YOUR FINAL HOUR

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

            DEVOUR, DEVOUR, IT’S YOUR FINAL HOUR

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

ARCHIVED

Fenrir has started to feel more and more cluttered as of late, what with my endless icon style/tag/url changes, and so I thought a move was best. I won’t be active on him for a while, mostly because I’m still in the process of making his new icons, but you can now find Fenrir and I over here.

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

ARCHIVED

Fenrir has started to feel more and more cluttered as of late, what with my endless icon style/tag/url changes, and so I thought a move was best. I won’t be active on him for a while, mostly because I’m still in the process of making his new icons, but you can now find Fenrir and I over here.

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

ARCHIVED

Fenrir has started to feel more and more cluttered as of late, what with my endless icon style/tag/url changes, and so I thought a move was best. I won’t be active on him for a while, mostly because I’m still in the process of making his new icons, but you can now find Fenrir and I over here.

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

ARCHIVED

Fenrir has started to feel more and more cluttered as of late, what with my endless icon style/tag/url changes, and so I thought a move was best. I won’t be active on him for a while, mostly because I’m still in the process of making his new icons, but you can now find Fenrir and I over here.

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

kjæreste:

                   her head bows, chin meeting chest as a small smile curves her lips. he is comfort and reassurance, her personal voice of reason where she so sorely lacks her own - and he is warm. one hand rises, moving to reach over her shoulder where she can run her fingers through his fur, and it is so very obvious in moments like these, just how much she loves him. 

   he could kill her now, with his teeth so near her neck, but regina trusts him almost if not more than she trusts even herself, and she sighs in easy content. ‘ hmmmm, ‘ she hums, a breath of laughter escaping drawn lips before she turns and trails her hand up, up, up - as high as she can reach. there’s a spot she likes to scratch, just behind his ear - but it’s easier to access when his head is in her lap, and her eyes remain fixated on the way his fur parts for her hand. 

                           ‘ they’re not like the others - they’re smarter than that.               i think they’d be able to tell the difference between an unbathed seadog,   and a god. besides - i think my credibility would rise were i to introduce you to cruella.                                          you’re quite a step up from the king. ‘

    Twin halves of light and dark were they, doomed to a villain’s malicious ways with a swipe of a sword, the spilling of a secret sworn to a child’s breast to one with neither heart nor good intent, and yet in the other did they seem truly hale and whole. Blurred were the lines betwixt the two, fur bled to blackened wardrobe and dangerous green commingled with the night’s dark chocolate, ‘til they seemed one and the same, a unit of hatred and rage and grief ( past and present; redemption no more a taste for Fenrir than the soft squelch of a bovine’s diet ) brought to rule and subdue all who crossed their path.

    Raw lupine bulk shifted, corded muscle and strengthened sinew roiling beneath the surface of warmed skin to meet the soothing work of Regina’s palm. A low huff hung in the beast’s throat, a sound to speak of ancient worlds and timeless earth, as he canted his head, pushing the soft shell of a curved ear wholly beneath the Queen’s gentle touch.

‘ Y’say that,  ‘  Fenrir began, pleasure loaning a husky edge to a deepened tone.  ‘ But you ain’t the one rockin’ black ‘n’ white hair or a dumbass fedora. ‘ Cruel words, mayhaps, but no crueler than aught that had been said before. Another turn of the head, a whit less pronounced, a touch less insistent, and the wolf eyed the holder of his heart, mocking scorn loaning a playful gleam to his gaze.  ‘ Introducin’ me to the one who wants a pup-skin coat? Don’t tell me you’re investin’ in a wolfskin cloak yourself, sweetheart. ‘

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All monsters were once full of light, but it was stolen from them by despair, then the darkness seeped into their veins, like a deadly disease without a cure, and once hope betrays you, you can’t help but let the devil inside.

this is how the devil was born // k.s. (via worthystevie)

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blodig lyn:

Oh now he’s being cruel, just awfully cruel. If this was how they were going to play it then so be it. There’s almost a pout but one soon to be overtaken by a childish grin. “Well I am a master of subtly~.” Why she can throw herself at him if that’s what he wishes. A new meaning to the phrase, ‘to be thrown to the wolves’ and a rather nasty twist to it too. In fact she doesn’t even hesitate to destroy any sense of personal space between them by draping an arm across his shoulder. A foolish decision, to be so close to jaws of death and yet… “If loud and clear is what you want, I can oblige.”

     Cruel though such an act was, writ with malice’s spidered hand and soaked with treachery’s venom, no apology brooked space or quarter within the beast’s maw. No soft-hearted fool was he, sick with the idea of entwined hearts and ardour’s fervour controlling aught and all that dared comprise him ( a marvelous joke would such be to see Destruction bent and bowed, twinned with one deemed heartless ), no desirous madman to see only the flower and ignore the serpent coiled within dark lightning’s breast, but a beast with heart and mind intact. Carnal desires lingered not in the heart, the heated earth of hot breath and snapping, snarling maws, brooked neither mindless whim nor enslaved thought to spring a thousand joys into a malicious maw and paint them as a smitten grin splashed betwixt strings of meat and thick, dripping gore.

    Blunted fingernails dug deep into the expanse of dark-soaked flesh, gouging scattered imprints of feigned moons across the heaving work of thrumming muscle and shoulder’s bone, as Fenrir flashed a terrible, teasing, grin. “Ooh, now there’s a good girl,” he crooned, low and dangerous. “You know I love to hear you scream.”

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irritasjon:

    ❝you were almost handsome       before  you became a pain.❞

     ❝As you were nearing passable before you saw         fit to open your mouth. Were you intending such         to hurt me, or are you operating as though I have         a so easily wounded ego?❞

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drippingredledgers:

                       she descends as a dove to break through the air. yet, all that follows is a flame of  incandescent fire, with her tongue to declare the sins of horror. the pentecostal fire which graces the name SHIELD washed the dirt from her skin, her white complexion emerging as purified —— but how long can she stay clean ? how long before the familiar tarnishes prick at the corners & crumble her papered form ? the serpent crawled it’s way up the tree, constricting around her savior until it drawed it’s last breath. an agent, an assassin —— believing she was fighting for the right side, that the lives she took gracing the eagle upon her sleeve were for redemption, although now the tears in her sculpture with the truth beginning to emerge with their blood pouring from her wounds.

                               a war she, perhaps, shouldn’t intervene. that this isn’t her fight, it’s not her battle to win. the syllabic words which pour from his mouth like hot lava to burn upon her feet sting with a mighty punch. home —— where is her home ? is it the ground which caved as her mother, the land which she devoted her body to ? she doesn’t belong. migrating as a free ( TRAPPED ) bird, that is left to follow where the wind takes them. there is no home. it’s the mirthless echo which rumbles like distant thunder from the concave of her mouth which concludes she’s ready to hunt for her prey. the shining of razor teeth which rip through flesh with bitter words prepare to mark their territory. a black widow hanging by a single thread —— target engaged.

                                                                      ❛ then shouldn’t you start running ? ❜

     Mortal woes were no concern of the slaughter beast. No thought to the wellbeing of any other, save those long since deemed kith and kin ( brother, I will find you, sister, you are more than just your crown ), lingered along the tapestry of lupine thought, plucking at errant strands and faded ink as a child’s impish hands would a prized heirloom. To worry and fret, guide the feeble lights of mortalkind as a nurturing hand, a warm and gentle presence, was no crown for Destruction to bear, no armour to be worn and thrust upon countless battles and wars as though he were a defender of the people, of their forgotten belief in the countless gods still living celestial lives about their dust-battered world; nay, such was Thor’s work, his sword and shield, armour and reason for life and breath to commingle in crowned veins, before it would ever be Fenrir’s.

     ( Destruction’s beast will bleed and roar, but never will a mortal rule his hand or heart )

     Harsh laughter, cold and horrific, spilled upon stubbled lips, bounding betwixt snarling grin and feigned fang as an over eager pup, keen to explore and know the boundaries of the unknown world. A brave heart was it to stand before any being of divinity, any lord of creation and celestial intent, and remain untouched, hale and whole as they had been upon their name day, but Fenrir would offer no congratulations, tip neither hat nor kindly paw to rob fear from a fragile breast and stir the company of a settled, likewise, soul. A harbinger of twilight had no need for kindliness, to take all that was dark and foul within the world and see it condemned to the nothing beyond; a creature of hate, of bloodlust and conquest and demise, was the beast, and no being would ever change such.

     “Ooh, sweetheart,” he crooned, sarcasm sequestered within the splintered edges of his maw. “You wound me. But if you’re really goin’ to hammer the point home, you might as well be correct.” Malice gathered about the edges of Fenrir’s countenance, corrupting feigned humanity with sheer power and the will of the bestial. “God’s the word you’re lookin’ for. Now what was that ‘bout runnin’, dauðlega?”

[fraegdulfur-archive-blog-blog]

a moment of appreciation for characters who lack tact with their words and emotions.

the characters that aren’t afraid to tell you straight-up what they think.

the characters who are abrasive and aren’t afraid to follow through on threats.

the characters who when someone hits, they hit back harder.

the characters who hold a confrontational front because like fuck they’re gonna be someone’s punching bag.

and the characters who, no matter what, refuse to let themselves bend, bow, or break.

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19 weeks of Captain Swan | week six, hook in s2

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And suddenly, the monster in him falls silent as he rests his head on her lap.

Everything feels better with her (via

famelici

)

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litla dreki:

fraegdulfur  liked for a thing!  ♛

          ❝ —- it’s HOPELESS, isn’t it? Just say it,                  I KNOW  you’ve been wanting to for quite some           time. Your litla dreki has FAILED. 

                            She can’t even get VESSELS.  ❞

           ❝ Fuckin’ Hel, don’t sound so positive, really. Y’could kill someone with that                enthusiasm. ❞

     Thick sarcasm slicked across drawled words, cloying and viscous as a thousand      flowered babes. No optimism would Fenrir give, no cheer howled unto the endless      night by immortal lungs for one born of silver scales and ultimate determination;      Destruction lay in terror and carnage, the snap of feeble throats within      ever-strengthened jaws and the muted screams of those torn asunder, fleshy      ribbons and gore-slick bones, within a chaotic maw. No need had he for boundless      joy and support, urging on each life and nurturing it against his breast as though      they were his own babe ( nay, only two such lives existed, for true, within the      parameters of paternal affection, and both had been long since robbed from the      beast ), only the need to see all life extinguished and those with cooling blood on      their hands repaid for all they had moved against his kin.

           ❝ Lemme guess, the bouncin’ about wantin’ to free every chained bastard and take                back what’s rightfully your’s was just a ruse? Or’re you just lickin’ your wounds                 ‘cause everythin’ ain’t gone your way -- yet. ❞