#thefateofwar

[facemypast]

A kiss as a warning ( ayy )

6. As a warning || @thefateofwar

Everyone thought Steve was the stubborn, reckless one out of the two ofthem. And yes, he was the more ridiculous of the duo, but that didn’t meanBucky didn’t give him a run for his money sometimes. Bucky could be just asstubborn and prideful and reckless when he had occasion to be- and he certainlyhad the occasion now. Sam and Steve had both given him dubious looks when hestared after Kratos too long, or when he made some obtuse comment that wasalmost overtly sexual- to anyone besides Kratos, apparently. The rest of theteam didn’t understand the fascination, didn’t see the reason for Bucky’sactions. But that didn’t bother him because Bucky, for once, understood what hewanted. All he had to do was get the other man- the god- on board.

    “I feel like I’ve dropped some pretty clear hints about what I want.Is         it not the same thing that you want?”Bucky asked boldly after a          training session, in which he’d beenparticularly shameless.

Kratos looked up from where he was polishing his weapon, one eyebrowraised it what could have been amusement or derision. Bucky refused to secondguess himself; there had been clear moments in which Kratos had less-than-purethoughts on his mind as he looked at him. After a moment the god set aside hismaterials, stood up fluidly and powerfully, stalking closer to where Bucky stood.“In my experience, typically the more submissive one comes forward and statestheir intentions,” he said, now with a definitely smirk lifting one side of hismouth, “rather than teasing and prodding from afar.” The words carried muchmore meaning behind them, and Bucky’s throat went dry.

    Swallowing, he replied, “But I’m not wrong, am I? You want metoo.”

Kratos hummed, lifting a hand to gently cup Bucky’s chin, tiling hishead up. “Of course, how could I not? But you must understand what you’reasking for, what would be in store for you.” Leaning in he kissed Bucky,immediately taking control. His tongue pushed in to stroke against Bucky’s, histeeth nipped at Bucky’s lips, his hand was practically forcing Bucky up ontohis toes. The brunet’s gasp faded into a moan as he fell into the kiss, dominatedin even that simple gesture, swept away by what the god was doing. In whatseemed like both a year and half a second Kratos stepped back, hand now cuppingBucky’s jaw and a smirk on his face. Maybe the scorching kiss was meant to dissuadeBucky or meant to warn him about the power that came with someone like Kratos.Instead Bucky simply stared up at Kratos, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and blown.

    “You won’t find me complaining.”

★ Fucked up kisses! ★ Not accepting ★

[storiesofwildfire]

          { plotted starter for @thefateofwar -- Kratos and Faye }

♔—- War raged on throughout Yggdrasil. The Aesir and the Vanir fought violently against one another, though any who could see the war free of Asgard’s corrupted viewpoints understood that it was through no real fault of Vanaheim. Odin stood as a precursor to all that followed, a tyrant who forced and bent the wills and hands of millions and those who did not agree were quickly slaughtered. 

The bloodshed quickly spread to many of the realms, which left the woman with little choice but to protect her own. The Jötnar suffered greatly at the hands of the Aesir as they refused to bend the knee and join the Gods new conquest for domination. Asgard sought to destroy them so thoroughly and leave them with no way to fight back that they even stole a powerful, ancient relic from her people.

The Casket of Ancient Winters, by many, was viewed as little more than a weapon, something that could send entire realms into an eternal ice age that would likely kill less powerful beings. For Jötunheim, though, it was a way of life, a source that kept their realm healthy and powerful. Without it, her people whithered away, afraid to have more children for fear of what would happen to them. 

Laufey had no children, but she was regarded as one of the most powerful among them, gifted with many forms of Seidr that gave her an advantage in battle and preparation for the future. Fierce in battle but kind in heart, she stood as a delicate balance of both one to be feared and one to turn to in times of great struggle.

The realm knew she would make a marvelous queen, but she was not yet ready to take up the mantle that would eventually be passed down to her. So much needed to be done and if she had been tied to a throne, she would not have the freedom to roam as her tasks required of her. Many begged her to stay, to reconsider any sort of departure, to sit on the throne where they could protect her, but she refused that request, insisting that she would act as their protector, not the other way around.

Once Jötunheim stood safely amongst the realms of Yggdrasil and her path secured, then she would return and take up the burden that had loomed over her for so many eons. 

Leaving her own behind hadn’t been easy. She prepared herself emotionally, spiritually, and physically for the departure, but she never could have been ready for how it felt to leave her home on her own. Even though her quest stood as a noble one and she knew without her efforts, her people would not endure, parting ways hit her in the chest with vicious intensity. Heartbreak along with a crippling fear that she may never see her home again nearly convinced her not to go, but if she ever hoped to take up the crown and call herself Queen, she had to protect those she would rule first. If she could not do that, then she was not worthy of such a role.

Whether she truly wanted said role was another story entirely. Without a doubt, she would be the most prepared she or any other person could be, but that did not mean she wished to rule or lead. If and when the time came, she would take her place on the throne of Jötunheim, but for the good of her people, not for her own personal desire or quest for power.

With that in mind, she took nothing but a small, worn travel sack and an axe with her to Midgard.

Upon arrival, she took great care in keeping her presence there unknown, even taking the form of a beautiful, young mortal-passing woman rather than the much larger form most common to her. She roamed, getting a feel for the land as well as decerning the best place for her to stop and make a home, however temporary or permanent that might be.

She held no fear in sleeping under the stars with little in the way of shelter. Jotun were built to endure the harshest of winters and she barely felt a thing when trapped by the snow or harsh winds or rain. So long as she could build a fire and hunt, she would endure, which is exactly what she settled in to do on the night that she met him.

A day of hunting produced a wild boar and a few rabbits. It was true, her appetite ranged far wider than that of a simple mortal woman and she held no reason to modesty when she traveled on her own. The kills would provide her enough meat to last a few days at least and would allow her to travel lightly without worrying about what she would be eating the next day. Their pelts would also prove to be useful for armor and clothing and the woman was nothing short of crafty.

As the setting sun dipped behind the snow-covered mountains, she conjured a flame that flickered a brilliant mix of emerald and sapphire before cooling to warmer and more natural tones of orange and yellow. The scent of roasting meat filled the air. Protective enchantments surrounded her campsite, so no unwanted guest--human, animal, or otherwise--would pass through undetected. Extreme, perhaps, but with Odin himself wishing for her death, she couldn’t afford to be too careful.

The flames died down as the woman ate and laid her head to rest on her pack, magic keeping them alive enough to produce a small amount of warmth and light without the risk of drawing too much attention. She’d only just nodded off when a violent shiver shot up her spin. One of her wards had been disturbed and she sat upright, eyes alert and bright in search of who or what might have trespassed into her temporary sanctuary. 

In a second, she called her weapon to her, a large axe carefully crafted with fine metalwork and etchings along the blade itself as well as the long neck. Rather than lung at the man who neared her--and he was quite easy to see even in the dim lighting given his massive size. He wasn’t mortal, that she could say with certainty, but she wasn’t quite sure what she could call him--she leapt up with quick, elegant agility and dragged the head of her weapon through the snow she rested herself upon. Cool, white sparkles illuminated by the dying fire flared up, but a powerful burst of magic radiated through the ground towards the giant, effortlessly sending him flying. 

The irony of thinking him a giant was not lost on her. Oh, how she would laugh on that later. Mortals were so tiny and she still hadn’t grown used to this small, delicate-appearance she’s taken up purely so eyes would not turn upon her and know immediately who she was.

With him temporarily off his feet, she advanced, quick and graceful despite the size of the weapon she pulled along with her, prepared to swing at any sign of violent intent. Killing never came as something she enjoyed, but she long since accepted that it was a harsh reality of survival. With war flaring up all around the Nine Realms, without a willingness to take another’s life, you would not live to see tomorrow and if you died, those who relied on you would soon follow.

“State your name and your business,” she ordered, the soft voice booming with intense sternness that she would come to find rivaled the man before her. “And I advise you to do so quickly if you wish to keep your head attached to your shoulders. Most friendly travelers offer friendly greeting before sneaking their way into someone else’s camp."

As far as she was concerned, she’d offered him extreme kindness in not harming him further. Many in her position would not offer him a chance to explain himself, choosing instead of strike quickly and ensure their own safety. It saddened her that the worlds operated in such a fashion, but she understood the reason. 

Still, she could not bring herself to show cruelty in the face of her own safety. She could defend herself, so it did her no harm to give him a chance.

“What do you want?”

[stormweathered-arc1]

@thefateofwar asked:  " move or you will be moved "

mcu starters

     HE KNOWS LITTLE OF THIS ONE, but he does know that the other looks POORLY upon him, seeming to expect something of him —— of WHAT, he does not know. Still, this isn't the first time that he has been met with hostility for the name he bears, and it will not be the last.

    Still, it stands to reason: he takes not WELL to threats or demands. Move or be moved; he folds his arms and stands tall, hammer loosely gripped in hand. ❛ I would think you would find I am not so easily MOVED, ❜  huffs he, with irritation rankling at the bank of his neck and spilling clear into words. There is no THREAT to how he stands, but there is STUBBORN RESOLVE.

                  ❛ I have no quarrel with you. Would you bring one to me? I think it not to be WISE. ❜

[chooserofslain]

” The last I saw you and your sisters were attempting to kill everyone. How is that faring for you ? ”

THE FEELING THAT CAME OVER THE VALKYRIE WITH SO FEW WORDS WAS — almost stiflingly … NOSTALGIC. It had been life - times since she & her sisters flew through realms rewarded the most heroic & — punishing those who failed to meet Odin’s exacting standards. & it was in the ashes of those life - times that the Valkyrie felt for the answer to such a question -

“ My sisters are DEAD — but you already knew that,”  fingers flexed gently together - as if searching for the hilt of a weapon that was not accessible — as the Valkyrie tilted her head back just enough to properly look at the God. “ So you could say … we faired rather — badly, ” a muscle jumped along the hard edge of her jaw as the Valkyrie spoke more softly, “ Not that I imagine you care. ”

*: ·ﾟ✧ ⚔ ’ thor : ragnarok sentence starters ’ ! / @thefateofwar ↳ ACCEPTING !

[storiesofwildfire]

I’m getting on a bit later than I expected, but I spent most of the day with my dad, so I have no regrets. 

Before I get started on anything, though, I wanted to take a minute to put @bifrostgold / @thefateofwar / all their other blogs on blast because Smudge redid all of my graphics for my blog and made me a beautiful new promo, all of which I could honestly cry over. 

I just changed over my blog and posted my new promo in honor of Loki’s birthday!! For those of you who don’t know, I celebrate Loki’s birthday on the anniversary of when I made my blog, which is September 1st. I decided to make this Loki’s official birthday on our normal, human calendar because there is no official date of Loki’s birthday anyway and this allowed me to dedicate a special day to my child.

I’ve been writing Loki on Tumblr for seven solid years now and I honestly cannot believe that, but uh? My child deserves the best.

Anyway! Please enjoy the new theme and let me know if anything isn’t working or looks off. I’m gonna dive into my inbox to answer some of these birthday wishes for Loki. <3

[storiesofwildfire]

@thefateofwar said: "Sit." Kratos' smiling would strike fear to any other, he is sure but for the child before him it is unbearably kind. A dampness about his eyes that would earn the axe should any dare to voice it now shown in the gentle press of his hand to Atreus shoulder, clearing his throat in a practiced manner. "When you were young you would ask me for one thing. A story. I could not give it then but I have been training for you and if you would permit it, for your birthday, I would like to gift it now."

♔—- The idea of Loki’s birthday had always been a bit of a sore spot. Not that most Aesir paid much mind to the importance of the day. Celebrating year after year grew tiresome when one could live for thousands upon thousands of years and one year seemed to sweep by in the blink of an eye. But Loki was always a special circumstance because no one really seemed to remember the specific day of their birth. Sure, Odin and Frigga claimed a date, but the rest of Asgard couldn’t really support those claims because Loki’s birth had been rather secretive and the child had been kept away from the public due to ailment. 

Loki remembered the ailment rather clearly. That sickness came and went, especially during their younger years, but the rest of Odin’s story or explanations for why most of Asgard went unaware of the second prince’s conception or birth held very little merit. 

The day Kratos swept through Asgard with Fenrir, Hel, and Jörmungandr, Loki was finally able to make sense of the oddities that surrounded their early life. Why Asgard seemed so uncertain of the younger prince, why Loki remembered a loving father that they’d been close to but clearly didn’t have in Odin, why they were so odd for an Aesir, and why even the simplest questions couldn’t properly be answered or supported by more than a few people...

Like the date of Loki’s birth.

They knew their birthday was coming up. Odin had at least known a rough time period in which Loki had been born. Once Heimdall’s restraints to the king had been broken, he’d been free to give Loki an overwhelming amount of knowledge and truths, some of which might have been better left unknown. And, of course, Kratos’ reintroduction to Loki’s life gave the young God insight into the life they lived before Odin. A painstaking process, really, as Odin corrupted Loki’s memories of life on Midgard with a loving mother and father and a modest cabin. Some days, the mischief-maker struggled to make sense of what was real and what wasn’t, wading through a sea of jumbled memories to sort out what actually was and what had been planted in their mind by a corrupt king.

Kratos helped, of course, giving Loki as much information as the poor soul could hope to absorb. Even in the centuries the father and child had been separated, Kratos’ memories of his Atreus never faded. Loki thought it would take time getting used to the name, but in actuality, it felt like home. So much so that only their father was permitted to use it. It sounded wrong coming from anyone else’s lips, didn’t hold the same sentiment or warmth.

The command to sit came with a surprising gentleness that many likely didn’t believe Kratos capable of. It shouldn’t have come as a shock that their father remembered the special nature of the day, but Loki spent centuries with a father who never loved them, never went out of his way to show care or genuine concern. Kratos wasn’t like that and while he did sometimes struggle with verbal communication, he always did his best to make Loki feel loved. They both wished to make up for lost time and yet... Loki still found themselves shocked that such an invitation had been extended. 

“All right?” the murmured quizzically. 

The expression their father wore only deepened that feeling. The ability to show wide emotional range usually escaped the Spartan and while he felt intensely, he never really showed it. Hints of tears clung to his eyes now and a warm, sentimental smile sought to reassure his child that he only requested Loki’s company for something to share.

“Father, are you all right?” Anyone else would have been afraid to make mention of the signs of mist around the man’s eyes, but Loki did not fear their father. Calling him out quickly became one of their favorite things to do.

A large hand, rough in texture but warm and strong to the touch rested upon Loki’s shoulder, reassuring them that nothing was wrong, and easily guided them down to sit in a plush chair adorned with a few emerald pillows. With a graceful little plop, the God relaxed, though their eyes never left the larger man.

“I...” Frustration passed over their visage briefly, eyes blinking rapidly a few times over. Every time Loki thought about their life with Kratos, it felt like a mental exercise. Memories came back easier now, with more clarity, but always with a little bit of resistance, like their mind grinding the wrong gears together in the processing phase. Even still, a few moments bubbled up to the surface. A canoe Kratos rowed, his little boy sitting opposite him with wanderlust-filled eyes that darted from his father, to a massive temple, to a beaten-down statue that stood in the center of a small island, to the side of Jörmungandr’s massive body, and right back to his father. He kept asking for stories and every one Kratos delivered fell flat. They were never stories so much as blunt statements or commentary that didn’t make for a very good story. Loki even found himself correcting Kratos’ stories to make them more entertaining. “I did ask you for stories a lot, didn’t I?”

Poor Kratos never stood a chance in that department. Even as a small boy, Loki rarely knew when to shut up and always tried to engage those around him into holding a conversation. Kratos had never been good at that, but he tried so hard. 

“As long as you do not tell me about the scorpion and the frog again, I would love to hear your stories.” They’d be proud about how clearly they remembered Kratos’ retelling of that age-old fable a little later. “I--” Pale cheeks filled with a pleasant, rosy color and as if to match Kratos’ expression, subtle dampness made Loki’s eyes shine even brighter than usual. They didn’t expect the overwhelming tidal wave of emotion to crash down on them, but it happened every time the pair shared these genuine and intimate moments. 

“I’d love that very much.” 

[storiesofwildfire]

muse body language.

bold / italicise what you apply to your muse.

author’s note: pretty sure I’ve done this for Loki before, so I’m gonna go ahead and do this for one of my side muses, in this case, Hel <3

tagged by: @bifrostgold​ tagging: @ofcharredbones​ @thefateofwar​ @bornofbloodandwater​ @askbluerosegardener​ @lameshsorsye​ @inadxquacy​ @webheadjrr​ and whoever else would like to!

defensiveness.

arms crossed on chest / crossing legs /   fist-like gestures  /   pointing index finger /    karate chops   /   stiffening of shoulders /   tense posture /   curling of lip   /   baring of teeth

reflective.

hand-to-face gestures   / head tilted /   stroking chin  /   peering over glasses   /   taking glasses off — cleaning   /   putting earpiece of glasses in mouth   /   pipe smoker gestures   / putting hand to bridge of nose /   pursed lips, knitted brows

suspicion.

arms crossed / sideways glance   /   touching or rubbing nose   /   rubbing eyes   /   hands resting on weapon  / brows raising /   lips pressing into a thin line  /   strict, unwavering eye contact  /   wrinkling of nose

openness & cooperation.

open hands /   upper body in sprinters position   /   sitting on edge of chair   / hand-to-face gestures   /   unbuttoned coat /   tilted head /   slacked shoulders, droopy posture   /  feet pointed outward   /   palms flat and facing outward /   chin up

confidence.

hands behind back   /   hands on lapels of coat   /   steepled hands   /   baring teeth in a grin   /   rolling shoulders   /   tipping head back but maintaining eye contact /   chest puffed up/shoulders back /   arms folded just above navel

insecurity & anxiety.

chewing pen or pencil  /   rubbing thumb over opposite thumb ( she gets that from her mum... )   /   biting fingernails   / hands in pockets   /   elbow bent/closed gestures  / clearing throat /   “whew” sound   /   picking or pinching flesh   /   fidgeting in chair   /   hand covering mouth whilst speaking   / poor eye contact   /   tugging at pants whilst seated   /   jingling money in pockets   /   tugging at ear /   perspiring hands /   playing with hair /   swaying /   playing with pointer/marker/cane   / smacking lips  /   sighing   /   rocking on balls of feet   /  flexing fingers sporadically

frustration.

short breaths   /   “tsk” sounds  /   tightly-clenched hands  /   fist-like gestures /  pointing index finger /  rubbing hand through hair  /   rubbing back of neck  /   snarling   /  revealing teeth/grimacing /   sharp-eyed glowers w/ notable tension in brow   / shoulders back, head up — defensive posturing   /   clenching of jaw/grinding teeth /   nostrils flaring  / heavy exhales

[storiesofwildfire]

THINGS   YOUR   MUSE   CAN   DO.     bold   what   applies   .    italicize   what   applies   sometimes  .

author’s note: I have done this for Loki before, so I’m going to do it for one of my side muses. In this case, Asmund!

tagged by: @lxvingdeadgxrl​ tagging: @thefateofwar​ @inadxquacy​ @algrimthestrong​ @bornofbloodandwater​ @lameshsorsye​

bake  a  cake  from  scratch ( don’t eat anything Asmund cooks... ) |  ride  a  horse |  drive  a  submarine  | speak  a  second  language |  dance |  catch  a  fish  | play  an  instrument | throw  a  punch (Asmund goes against Aesir stereotypes because he can’t fight at all ) |  build  a  deck  | ice  skate  | program  a  computer  |  change  a  flat  tire | fire  a  gun | sew  | juggle  | play  poker |  paint  |  fly  a  kite |  sculpt  | write  poetry | change  a  diaper  |  sing | shoot  a  bow  and  arrow | ride  a  bike |  swim  |  sail  a  boat | do  a  backflip | play  chess  |  give  CPR | pitch  a  tent |  flirt  | stitch  a  wound |  read  palms |  use  chopsticks |  write  in  cursive/calligraphy |  use  an  electric  drill |  braid  hair | make  a  campfire | make  a  mixed drink ( he needs them... frequently, dealing with Loki’s shit, ibr ) |  do  sudoku  puzzles  |  wrap  a  gift | give  a  good  massage | jump-start  a  car |  roll  their  tongue |  magic  tricks  | yoga  |  tie  a  tie  |  skip  a  rock  |   shuffle  a  deck  of  cards  | read  morse  code |  pick  a  lock

[storiesofwildfire]

seasonal aesthetics.

tagged by: @lxvingdeadgxrl tagging: @thefateofwar @inadxquacy @nottobecrossed @facemypast @soresuandsnark @chooserofslain @webheadjrr @lameshsorsye and nayone else!

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑. a chill right down to the bones.   tobogganing.   teeth chattering. sleeping all day.  sitting by the fireplace.    spending time with family ( their children more than anything... ).   layered clothing.    seeing another’s breath.    loving the cold.   a state of inactivity. cold hands.   blistering winds shaking the closed windows.    a bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them.   cable knit socks.   a bitter remark.   a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.   hating the cold. full-length windows to peer out of.   pale skin.   deep conversations.  watching the snowfall.   sharp edges.   hot cocoa.   smelling every candle in the store.   a wild snowstorm.  melancholy.   lighting candles around the bathtub.   snow globes.  expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words. the softest of blankets.   liking, but not loving something or someone.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. the smell after it rains.  being in control of yourself.  a soft breeze blowing your hair.  lightning when it strikes.  cherry blossoms. bright mornings.  the first sign of hope.  the relief of finding something you lost.  paris in the spring. birds chirping.  the art of growing. a kiss on the cheek. the clap of thunder. a tornado in the valley.  smiling at a stranger.  planning.  saccharine pinks.  making promises. trying something new. hugs when you need them most.     a bee sting.      sitting on the steps of the met.      coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm. picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun.   that feeling you get when you put on a good dress. a long hike. rushing when you can take your time. going to the gym/training at ungodly hours. excitement for what’s coming.  becoming yourself.   rain boots.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑. lanterns lit around a campfire.   seeing the sunrise like it’s the first time again and again. melting ice cream. the warmth of sun rays upon skin.  fireworks. the feeling of never wanting something to end.  beach days.       the lone blow-up floaty left in the pool.       drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else.  music blasting at 3am,     loud and proud.     palms trees on sunset boulevard.     longer days and shorter nights.  wanderlust.   nights spent staring at the stars.   sandcastles.   road trips.   blood orange sunsets. leaving the laundry to hang outside. flowers in bloom.  sneaking out of your room late at night.  pure contentment.  barefoot in the sand.   the street lights coming on.    the sound of the ocean in a seashell.    freshly squeezed lemonade.  loose clothing.  a cannonball into the pool.  sunflowers. the hazy pink before dusk.   relaxation.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋.  the leaves changing colors.  a heavy backpack.  the smell of old books. eating until you’re stuffed.  deep, dark woods.     the silence in loudness ( the loudness in silence ). abandoned houses.      ripped jeans. crunching leaves beneath feet.  feeling like you’ve been somewhere before.  sitting at a bay window.  having endless amount of work. charcoal drawings.   screaming into a pillow as loud as you can.    pumpkin patches.  creaky floorboards.   accepting that some things do have to change.    museums.     small talk.    being ignored.  procrastinating.   a door slamming shut.   going to bed early.   baking pies.   the fear of walking alone in the dark.  feeling completely and terribly lost.  a twig snapping.  crisp, cool days.  belly laughter after crying.  converse.  foggy mornings at the shoreline.  writing a daily entry in a journal. a lonely day.

[storiesofwildfire]

NPC EDITION

EDIT: I challenge everyone to answer these questions about one of your NPCs or side characters instead. (optional, of course! )

tagged by: @ofcharredbones tagging: @thefateofwar​ @fandralxthexstabulous @nottobecrossed @lxvingdeadgxrl @webheadjrr @wellplighted @ofimaginarybeings @stormweathered @facemypast @askbluerosegardener @lameshsorsye and whoever else would like to!

NAME: Laufey NICKNAMES: Faye AGE: Around 2,200 Jotun years SPECIES: Jotun / Frost Giant GENDER: Genderfluid. Most Jotun are genderfluid in nature. Many do take preferences to one gender over another. Faye usually prefers feminine over masculine but will be seen and referred to as both or neither.  ORIENTATION: Panromantic. Pansexual. CURRENT RESIDENCE: Jotunheim. PROFESSION: Laufey is currently the ruler of Jotunehim, though she has taken to many other professions throughout her years. Before taking the throne of Jotunheim, she was often referred to as Laufey the Just, a being that sought to uphold justice for those who were not able to do so on their own behalf. She constantly stands as an oppositional force to Odin and the Aesir as a whole, which feeds into the Asgardian’s prejudices of her and her people.  PERSONALITY: Laufey is a very dominating personality, but she is also kind, loving, and careful with those she finds deserving of said care. In order to take up the mantle that she has been burdened with and to constantly look the dominanting realm in the face and not back down, she has to have a certain sense of control. People respect her rather than fear her. They are not afraid to speak up against her, but they know when not to push their luck with her judgment. She is fair, wise, and almost always in control of herself in a way many royals are not. Down to Earth and capable of seeing into the future, Laufey doesn’t have much of a choice but to keep a level head about her and tend to her duties and people as she feels she must. 

[ PHYSICAL ASPECTS ] BODY TYPE: Athletic. She is built like a warrior and while she can definitely dress herself to hide her build and strength to appear more petite or more feminine, make no mistake that she can and will crush you if need be.  HAIR: Dark brunette, especially in mortal form. Sometimes, when in Jotun form, her hair stands out as a bright white/silver color instead.  EYES: In mortal form, her eyes are a similar shade of green that Loki’s eyes are. In Jotun form, she takes on a much more intense and vivid red color that almost seems to glow in the dark. They’re kind of eerie, but in a way that’s also beautiful. SKIN: Smooth and tight to the touch with rough hands from years of work and combat. The only deviation is Faye’s Jotun form, where the Jotun markings that run along most of her body are raised higher than the rest of her flesh. In mortal form, she is rather pale, fair like Loki. In Jotun form, her skin is a rich cobalt color that contrasts both her eyes and her hair in the most striking way.  POSTURE: Unlike most royals, Faye doesn’t carry herself with an air of importance or even proper posture that keeps her spine straight. None of that nonsense. Instead, she carries herself like a warrior first and a traveler second, so she is usually prepared for the worst, but also allows herself to relax and slouch if she feels like she can. The air that comes off of her is definitely “I don’t need to impress anyone else because I am sure of myself.” HEIGHT:  6″ in mortal form and over twice that in Jotun form. 

[ FAMILY ] PARENTS: Both deceased, likely killed off by Odin or the other Aesir gods. SIBLINGS: None. FAMILY LIFE: Faye is nothing if not a devoted and loving mother, though the weight of running a realm resting upon her shoulders mixed with the loss of her first child ( Loki, also known as Atreus--she is unaware that Loki is still alive and on Asgard ) and husband, her family life can be... difficult. She took a new mate after Kratos, not for love, but for the importance of having more children and continuing her family line. Faye has mothered and fathered children and she is extremely involved in the lives of all of her children, though her time is often split between work and her family.  CHILDREN: Loki ( Atreus ) Laufeyson ;; Ulla Laufeydottir ;; Agnar Laufeyson ;; Ragna Laufeydottir ;; Ivar Laufeyson ;; Ulf Laufeyson ;; Olja Laufeydottir ;; Livia Laufeydottir ANY PETS?: None personally, but she lives with multiple children and other staff who have critters running around. She often treats other’s pets as if they were her own. 

[ LIKES ] COLORS: Cool jewel tones such as sapphire, emerald, and amethyst.  SMELLS: Freshly fallen snow, the smell of burning wood over an open flame, roasting meat, ginger and mint, steeping tea, melon. FOOD: Much like Loki, she has a deep love for seafood, shellfish especially. She’s also quite fond of most meats that can be procured through hunting. Deer and rabbit being two to come to mind in terms of human food. DRINKS: NON-ALCOHOLIC? Tea ( usually some sort of herbal or mint type ), crisp, clean-tasting water, sweet juices ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?: Mead, dry and often dark wine, and that’s... honestly about it. Faye isn’t a huge drinker. FAVORITES: Spending time with her children in a setting that has nothing to do with political affairs, traveling and exploring, the look on people’s faces when she predicts the future accurately and they failed to listen to her words of advice, lazy early morning sex, the kind that makes you want to stay in bed all day, long and hot soaks in hot springs and/or oversized tubs, cooking over an open flame, practice magic or combat with her loved ones

[OTHER DETAILS ] SMOKES ?: yes  [  ]   ||   no  [ x ]   ||   occasionally  [  ] DRUGS ?: yes  [  ]   ||   no  [ x ]   ||   occasionally  [  ] GAMBLING ?: yes  [  ]   ||   no  [  ]   ||   occasionally  [ x ] DRIVER LICENSE ?: yes  [  ]   ||   no  [ x ] EVER BEEN ARRESTED ?: yes  [  ]   ||   no  [  ]   ||   almost/detained  [ x - not necessarily for crimes, per se, but because Odin wanted her... ]

[facemypast]

@thefateofwar​ || Cont. from x

Allowing himself to get run into an alleyway had not been Bucky’s finest moment. He was holding his own, but it was hard, and getting increasingly more difficult. No matter how many of the creatures he managed to stab or knock away, two more seemed to take their place. Fuck, not a good comparison. The momentary wince at the words ringing in his head allowed one of them to catch a lucky hit against his ribs, and he hissed through grit teeth as he violently dispatched of that one. 

Muffled curse words were about all that he managed between fending off the small group, and he could feel himself tiring ever so slightly. The battle had taken much longer than it should have, due to arguments and mistakes and just so many damn demons. They were getting closer, scoring more glancing blows and pressing forward, limiting his range of movement. Just as Bucky was considering calling for back up, it arrived, in the form of Kratos, completely in his element as he almost effortlessly demolished the rest of the horde surrounding them. There was a moment of shocked silence as Bucky regained his footing and leaned heavily against the wall, legs weak and shaky.

He let the god pull him out and set him down on a stoop, only having the energy to quip about luck versus expectations. Kratos didn’t stop bandaging his wounds as he replied back, and the hard and confident way he spoke shut Bucky right up. ‘Boy.’ Nodding slightly, eyes wide, he kept silent as Kratos finished treating him. His eyes only got wider as Kratos cupped his cheeks, heat positively searing into his own skin. Energy still seemed to emanate from the god, and Bucky’s throat went dry, barely comprehending Kratos’ next words. Something told him that Kratos didn’t give out compliments freely.

     “Uh... thank you. And, thanks for helpin’ me out.            Coulda been a lot worse,” he stammered.

This wasn’t their first interaction, but this was the first time Bucky had been so close to the god, and had his attention focused solely on him. It was heady, for more than one reason. The gentle way Kratos offered out his hand belied the immense power he had, and Bucky was accepting his arm to lean on before he even realized it. He could walk, probably- he had walked off worse injuries in the past. But if Kratos was offering to help, Bucky thought it was in his best interest to go along with it. He felt honored to have the god’s attention so.

As they started to limp away from the alley, Bucky realized he’d been asked a question, in a round-about way. He sighed, regretting even more now that he’d let himself get backed into a corner like a total amateur. 

     “Well, I was heading down this block because Stark had said there         were civilians being targeted. Clint said there were none, but there         were only a few demons, and that I could get a good perch. Neither         of them were right, since they were talking about the wrong streets.         So I practically ran into an army of them,” Bucky answered bitterly.

[facemypast]

"You cannot kill me in any way that matters." (Training session trainING SESSION TRAINING SES-)

@thefateofwar

Coming down to the gym to see Kratos training by himself, Bucky could admit to himself that he could spend hours just watching the god go at it. He was pure brute strength and force, and it showed in the power of his hits and the frankly unfair amounts of muscle on him. It was rude to stare, but Bucky could hardly stop himself. Despite his suddenly-dry mouth and most thoughts leaving his head, Bucky managed to stroll in relatively normally and initiate a conversation once Kratos seemed to reach a pausing point.

     “Impressive. Got a minute to do some practice with me?”

He was relatively proud of himself for not coming off like a complete idiot. Although he did feel his entire body heat up at the slow head to toe look Kratos gave him, like he was sizing him up or like he wanted to eat him. “Of course. I was just going to do some spear drills, a partner would be welcome.” Bucky nodded, excitement and no small amount of arousal rising in him as Kratos wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned to fetch the spears. The god tossed one to Bucky, and the brunet took a moment to feel out it’s weight and balance. He’d never used one before, but he was proficient in so many weapons that he was sure he’d get the hang of it.

     “...these are real, with actual spear tips. Aren’t you worried about accidentally         killing each other?” he asked upon noticing the bright and very sharp metal. 

Kratos smirked, settling down into a ready stance. “I’m very careful. And you cannot kill me in any way that matters." Bucky swallowed hard as he sank into his own crouch; fuck if that didn’t go straight to the heat in his gut. Without warning Kratos sprung at him, and while Bucky got the spear up in time to block, he very quickly realized that this was not going to be a long match. He ducked and parried, blocked and dove, but the god always seemed one step ahead of him, getting in a fair amount of whacks and jabs with the blunt end of the spear. Bucky was going to be bruised to hell later, but it was exhilarating all the same.

Bucky got in one or two lucky hits, whacking Kratos on the arm, and the larger man seemed amused whenever he did it, somewhere between pride for a toddler learning to use a tool or bemusement at a small animal acting threatening. It shouldn’t have had the effect it did on Bucky, but he could evaluate his life choices later. The fight was still going, but quickly turning in Kratos’ favor the more clumsy and frustrated Bucky got with the spear. All too soon Bucky was cornered, spear tip pointed threateningly at his throat, Kratos staring at him with heated eyes and that damned smirk. Bucky swallowed hard, chest heaving, waiting for the god’s next move. After an indeterminable moment, Kratos slowly lowered the spear, stepped in close, and laid a large hand over Bucky’s cheek. Bucky’s knees absolutely did not go weak at the grin that spread across Kratos’ face. “That was good, for the first time. Again.”

★ Iconic raw as fuck media lines! ★ Accepting ★

[facemypast]

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ I just woke up so you get all my uwus ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

!!!!! I would die for you and I love u a lot

★ Send me a if you enjoy my blog! ★ Always accepting ★

[facemypast]

🔥🔥🔥 Marvel :)

smudge you’re just trying to get me into trouble

1. Steve is far from perfect, and I think he has a lot of flaws that people either overlook or straight up ignore. I’m not even gonna get started on Endgame again, because I still think half of that was just bad writing, but take Civil War. He was an ass to Bucky (“I need you to do better” when Bucky was freshly triggered and trying to remember some probably-pretty-horrific memories? hm), made a lot of people’s decisions for them, and it all just generally highlighted how stubborn he is, how he always thinks he knows best. He’s not a bad person, and he almost always means well, but he needs to be given a little punch here and there.

2. tom holland’s spider-man movies put way too much focus on Ironman like good god

3. As much as I hate that they killed her off.... and then didn’t even give her a funeral... i actually like Nat’s death scene? Even if it wasn’t well-written in the grand scheme of things and they admitted to fridging her, the scene itself was very beautiful and I think it fit her character.

★ Send me a 🔥 for an unpopular opinion! ★ Accepting ★

[storiesofwildfire]

DO NOT REBLOG // REPOST

tagged by: @lxvingdeadgxrl tagging: @thefateofwar @nottobecrossed @chooserofslain @lameshsorsye @stormweathered @ofimaginarybeings @ofcharredbones @inadxquacy @askbluerosegardener @whitefoxed

honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macaroons or croissants // glitter or matte // degas or seurat  // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip // colouring books or water colour // fairy lights or candles

[storiesofwildfire]

In Character Questionnaire – Repost Don’t Reblog

tagged by: @lxvingdeadgxrl tagging: @ofcharredbones @bifrostgold @thefateofwar @nottobecrossed @facemypast @halfbrecd @webheadjrr @inadxquacy @askbluerosegardener @bornofbloodandwater and whoever else would like to!

author’s note: because I’ve done this for Loki a bunch, I’mma do this for a secondary character, in this case, Laufey :3

1 ) WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE ? Faye has a very crisp scent about her that’s reminiscent of a fresh snowfall mixed with freshly cut herbs. 

2 ) HOW OFTEN DOES YOUR MUSE BATHE / SHOWER ?  ANY HABITS ?  As frequently as necessary and available. Faye is a rather clean person, though she’s definitely been in environments where a shower or a proper bath was not available conveniently or often ( like Viking Age Scandinavia, for example... ). She will, however, supplement proper bathing with a bit of magic, so she can keep herself clean with or without a proper routine. 

3 ) DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY TATTOOS OR PIERCINGS ?  Yes, she has both. Faye has multiple piercings in both ears and occasionally may sport other facial or body piercings, though those are more uncommon. As far as tattoos go, she does sport them, though typically only in Aesir form. They consist of blue markings that sort of resemble her Jotun marks in pattern and location. They’re placed on her flesh with magic rather than traditional tattooing methods and in her Jotun form, they disappear in favor of her natural markings. 

4 ) ANY BODY MOVEMENT QUIRKS ( EX : LEG SHAKING ) ?  Hair twirling is a huge thing for her. Whether it’s running her fingers through her hair, braiding her hair, taking her hair down, or simply twirling a strand around her fingers, so had a tendency to just... constantly touch and/or play with it. It’s a great distraction and keeps her hands busy. 

5 ) WHAT DO THEY SLEEP IN ?  Honestly? Nothing, really... Jotuns are not known for modesty. They walk around almost completely naked, to begin with so the chances of her actively sleeping in clothing are, uh, not high.

6 ) WHAT’S THEIR FAVORITE PIECE OF CLOTHING ?  Honestly, Faye doesn’t put a whole lot of emphasis on material possessions, especially not clothing. She’d be more likely to put value in a weapon or a piece of jewelry that was crafted by or given to her by a loved one. The ceremonial knifes Kratos crafted for their wedding vows, for example. Though she doesn’t actually have her’s anymore. They both ended up with Loki.

7 ) WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY WAKE UP ?  Does ‘wish they could go back to sleep and stare at the ceiling for a while’ count? Because as the ruler of Jotunheim, Faye has a lot on her plate and honestly, she sometimes wishes that burden didn’t rest with her.

8 ) HOW DO THEY SLEEP ?  POSITION ?  Side sleeper, for sure

9 ) WHAT DO THEIR HANDS FEEL LIKE ?  Her hands are strong and calloused from years of handling magic and weapons alike. She could use magic and natural moisturizers to soften them and sometimes does, especially if she has a young child to hold and look after or a partner to caress, but for the most part, she doesn’t really mind having rough hands. They’re the least of her worries, really. 

10 ) IF YOU KISSED THEM, WHAT WOULD THEY USUALLY TASTE LIKE ? Cool mint, the kind that you might imagine from chewing a stick of spearmint gum.