#ofwxr

[druidofiron]

when i get people to read the iron druid chronicles and then get super excited but then super scared that my portrayal is crappy lmao

[insxtiablebloodlust-blog]

ofwxr

     first punch catches her in the sternum, slipping past defenses and landing  true to target. it causes step to falter for but a moment, yet it is all he needs, grabbing hold of her and sweeping her to the the ground, hand upon her throat. breath is knocked out by impact as body meets ground beneath, granite floor splintering under force behind the throw. she splutters, choking for a moment as she stares up at unwavering eyes and brother's familiar face, gash from own knife already healing over.

                                    yield his gaze commands, yet she does not.

     tap of knife against inner thigh alerts him that while it appeared fight was entirely his, she had means to end it just as easily. a stalemate then. he could break her neck, and she could slice his femoral artery, bleeding him out until he quickly joined her in death (however temporary).

        when hands finally leave her throat reluctantly, she pushes herself up, bracing weight on one hand as other rubs sore skin of her neck. that will bruise for a few hours. a day at most. lovely.

            ❛  I'm getting better. you didn't win that time, at least.  ❜

[xraveniisms-archive-blog]

ofwxr

        everything about the man screams danger. from his face to his form to his stance to his very presence. everything about him seems oppressing, seems violent in nature. he is not the sort of person that has walked the halls of hogwarts without intent to see it burnt to its foundations. but at the same time, he is so very different from all the others who have come before him. because something about him says if he wills it, the castle would tremble and fall in his very wake.

        such feeling ties stomach into knots, yet strengthens resolve. this place is her home, and she will defend it. no matter the cost.

        ❛   merry met, traveler. ya have traveled a long way ta get here.                        may I ask yer intent now that ya've arrived?  ❜

[diem]

Greeter; ∟ godoffrostandfury lygxri ladiesoftheninerealms ofwxr & motherofasgard

      "Once, a long time ago, I was told a story about the       Ivy and the Oak Tree," said Iðunn, wistful, pressing       her palm flat against the trunk of one of the trees in       her orchard. "... Have you ever heard it? It's truly a       beautiful tale."

[druidofiron]

book 5 now, yasss finished one book in less than 24 hours

[druidofiron]

ayyy book 4 catch up losers

[druidofiron]

✎☁☜♜

[Send me some symbols for an insight in Atticus, the actual immortal trashy 5 year old]

✎  - write a drabble or just give some headcanons on your character’s childhood.

He does not remember his father’s face, but he knows that the colour of his hair matches his. His does not remember his mother’s voice, but he knows that the colour of his eyes matches hers. He does not remember a lot of things, but he remembers their love, and their arms as they carried him, and their touch, full of love and joy. He does not remember a lot of things, but he knows that he loves them as much as a child can love his or her parents, in the same way that they are loved first.

☁ - what is your character’s favorite or least favorite type of weather?

He tends to prefer clear skies but not the furious heat of the sun. Though darkness or clouds can aid him in masking the supernatural from those ignorant of it. There’s something about rain that he loves, perhaps it’s the feel of it on his face, in his hair, or the feeling of being connected to nature, to the Earth, source of his power. However, he isn’t overly fond of thunderstorms and lightning strikes, knowing that not all of them are made naturally.

☜ - when your character sees themselves in the mirror, what do they see? how do they see themselves?

Physically, he knows he’s decently attractive, and he works out, mostly by running, fighting various mythical creatures and gods, and some routine morning exercise if he isn’t running for his life, and he doesn’t really care what people think. As for mentally, he knows he’s probably led a life that could be better lived, but it is what it is and what he had to make do with the situation that he was dealt with.

♜ - explain any hobbies your character may have, go into detail like how they got into them and such.

As a druid, one must be knowledgeable in herbology and growing your own plants and herbs stem from that. Atticus finds it particularly enjoyable, and he loves to take care of plants and trees, and he loves to mess with herbs to produce great concoctions and teas, some of which he sells at his shop.

He also likes walking his Irish Wolfhound, and running with him in his own Wolfhound shifted state. Above that, he also enjoys hunting with his dog, in said state, and the feel of running on fours next to his friend, feeling the wind brushing past him, is something that Atticus is really fond of.

[neolaias-blog]

                                  " Ares, how may I be of your assistance today? "          She cannot help but slightly shake, for whenever Ares had summoned          her; it was never for sibling bonding.