Forge of Lies and Smoke @forgeofliesandsmoke - Tumblr Blog

blueblackdream

Christer Strömholm, Pigalle, Paris 1954

nubbsgalore

photos by jonny armstrong of a red fox taken from karluk lake on kodiak island.

sickfuture

winterfellis

Bárðarbunga, Iceland by Zach Tyler on Flickr.

Okay, but at what point in the 1000+ years he's known his granddaughter (alaron-fenrirdottir) did he decide to ignore that she was both Hel and Fenris' kid?

[The moment I didn't know the darling existed, lol]

Loki: "WHAT? I HAVE A GRANDDAUGHTER FROM THIS? I- THIS IS MORE INSANE THAN NORMAL- HOW- *blinks* is she healthy?"

[While I love reading these two together, Loki is freaking out right now.]

[He's just looking at fxnrisulfr and helheimrsbrokentoy, shouting at the top of his lungs, "NO. STAHP. WE ARE NOT OLYMPIAN OR EGYPTIAN GODS. EVEN THE ANCIENT JOTNAR STOPPED INBREEDING ONCE THEY HAD A DECENT POPULATION."]

[I am LAUGHING SO HARD. HE IS SO DISAPPOINTED.]

Loki: I BLAME ODIN.

#helheimrsbrokentoy #fxnrisulfr #[*watches from afar while house cleaning*]

mytholgy

MYTHOLOGY | NORSE | RAGNARÖK (x)

"Brothers will fight and kill each other, sisters’ children will defile kinship. It is harsh in the world, whoredom rife - shields are riven - a wind age, a wolf age - before the world goes headlong. No man will have mercy on another.”

#Ragnarok

poolsofchrome

May the gods keep our hearths warm, our spears sharp and our clan safe

ravensandrocks-deactivated20200

Lost Words by Michael Faudet

kissofmistletoe

The figure came like a demon, striding as darkness from darkness, and Baldr feared the only light would be from those ember eyes that pulsed and moved of their own life. It settled ice within him, hoarfrost creeping up the bones inside, freezing the chains of fate like icicles from his ribs, made slow moving glaciers of his blood.

Here death did come, with a smooth tongue and subtle sigh. Here death did come, and the peace the fawn believed he had made with his end turned brittle and snapped.

Only then did the fire roar, breathing life back to the room and the god’s soul. Never before had he seen such a beautiful sight in those flames, tongues of red and amber and orange dancing in celebration of existence. How he wished to mimic them so, to feel as alive as they did, yet not even the light banished the devil before him.

”You,” came the whispered reply, an answer, an ask, an accusation.

How strange that is was that his opposite stood so tall, as if the flesh were sculpted, while the golden boy huddled so weak and afraid. How strange that is was Loki to be the light-bringer, and the star-child tried to find security in the shadows, to be unseen, to be prey.

forgeofliesandsmoke

"I?" both a question and an agreement. "Are you saying you fear me, little bloodkin?" He should. The agony of a father denied his children always made for fuel to his rage, and in this form, Loki was apt to succumb to his more brutal whims. Rage, rage, against this family that dared deny him his children. Deny him his family's safety. What would it be to let these flames feed on the frail skin and tissues of this boy? A delight. A final mocking roar of laughter and tears in the faces of the Norns.

And to watch them descend through the skin, burning through it like paper, crisp and haunted by words that should have never been spoken. Wyrds that should never have been woven. The oils and fat would combust and bloom, if he could build up the temperature enough to overwhelm the water in the flesh...

But no. The boy was immortal. Untouchable. The pride of his house, and blessed of his mother. Loki's fires could cause him no harm. Fire had no master. Not even him. It swayed to its own will and whims, and had agreed to protect Baldr just the same as all the accursed objects the Liesmith might have thought to use.

And there he cowered, yet clung to the light source offered to him. Damnable creature. So like the farmer's son had, when in fear of the jotunn.

Worthless! He thrust the torch towards the young man, unable to stand it anymore. "Take it or let it gutter."

#[jhabcjsbcvjshdbc thank you :3]#kissofmistletoe #[Moody Loki is moody]

kissofmistletoe

He could make it. He could make it. Dawn was on the slow approach, he could feel it, deep inside his bones, the sun’s slow rise under the realm. The light would break over the mountains, the darkness would flee, he could make it. Another night, another while of solitude spent in the god’s chambers, sat huddled in the corner, comforted only by his own breathing to wear away the time. Light always came, it had done every day in the millennia he had lived, and it would come again this morn.

He could make it.

In the mantra, chanted, screamed in his mind, over and over, Baldr did not notice the softly opening door, the footsteps. What resided as a war cry in his mind became real, became sound, as the last torch was snuffed as a jest, plunging the star-child into the deepest darkness.

”A torch,” he cried, the echoes of the deep, panicked voices resounding throughout the quiet halls. Again he yelled, the earth trembling as his infliction, as his fear and desperation. It drained him, the shadows ate at all he was, taking but a heartbeat to gnaw at his chest, his mind, his sanity.

In the blackness, in the silence, a sob broke through, shattering the eerie peace like glass.

”A light, please. Please.”

forgeofliesandsmoke

"Of course I can grant you light, son of ravens... I have torches aplenty to warm, and burn, and chase away the darkness of a troubled night." Form murky, as if not wholly solid, Loki stepped forward, footsteps soft as a thief's. His outline though, began to glow like coals, eyes red as twin pyres.

To hear the boy's panic, his pain, his fear... was at least a flicker of interest in this otherwise dull night. Oh, these Asgardians and their love of the light offered by the chariots hurtling across the skies each day, chased by the slavering jaws and thunder of padded feet; his grandchildren seeking to end their headlong rush. These farmers, these warriors, all cringed from the dark as if it bore teeth of its own. What would they do in Helheim? Or in the depths of the shadow-dark sea? Bound cold, and alone, on an island, with no one to comfort them?

At times he could only see these weaknesses, and desire to extinguish them. Like a fire sputtering over wet coals. Even the thought of seeing the precious children of the Allfather having to cower like his children, both mortal and not, made the glow behind his eyes sear brilliant as a forest fire.

And yet... The snuffed torch roared back to life, briefly, as he passed, licking flames reaching almost beseechingly back towards him. He tried levering it free, in order to present the boy with the light he so craved. The same fire that could warm a house, or burn it to cinders, as was his wont.

His voice remained level, tired even, "What fears harass you, son of my brother?"

#[I can change or delete this if you want]#[I can't remember if your Baldr is Norse Myth or marvel based sorry!]