#gladofwar

“BEEN READING MACHIAVELLI lately, Wednesday? He wrote something to that effect.” She would know: she’d been there when the printing press had churned it out, after all. Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer’s favourite STARLET to push and pull and prod at like TAFFY sat prim and proud in her Easter bonnet and RUBY SLIPPERS: Judy hadn’t been able to GET HAPPY ( ! ) for years. “I would have thought him beneath you.” An edge to her voice: cold and hard as ice. TOTO ! WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANY MORE. 

headcanons. ll accepting.

Once, in a far kinder time, when there were rather more of them, Wedneday’s sons joked among themselves about who was his favorite child. Was it bright and beautiful Baldr, brave and bold Thor, or any of the other boys who found their way to the New World?

Their cousin had her own opinions, standing and making herself known with a wry grin. Boys, boys, she grackled, full of herself, you’re all wrong. It’s me. It was always me. She might have been booed out of the room, but it was a very 19th century Why are you booing me? You know I’m right. (At least, in her own head.)

headcanon appraisal.

Pulses...that was all she could feel. Pulses. Sapphire eyes, shrouded with burnt flesh healed from time watched the crowds of people clustered in the club. Sweat beading off their brows, bodies pressing into each other for an exchange of warmth, and laughter ringing throughout the room. It was here in the New York club Nocturnal that Dr. Margaret Thompson could draw in the most energy to speak with the gods. But tonight was different...

Visions and whispers in her ear drew her to the club. A chance meeting with the Old World was what one spirit had said...a chance to save the Old World’s values said another. She could only hope that some of the other gods would not show up unexpectedly during the meeting with the stranger. Her long fingers tucked her long dark brown hair over her shoulder, her backless dress revealing a detailed tattoo of a Celtic shield knot, the ink consuming her flesh like a turtle’s shell.

Lips locked on the rim of the glass of water given to her by the bartender, another dollar placed in his jar as the woman sipped on the clear elixir. The meeting would be soon...she could feel it. Her eyes closed, mind going blank as the entire room fell silent. The music muted, the vibrations of the bar ceased from the heavy bass and bouncing bodies, the heat from the hordes of people cool...

“Where are you?” she whispered to herself.

helvitisbrokentoy

❛ You’re turning into a penguin. Stop it. ❜

“a penguin?” he raised an eyebrow in her direction, questioning her usage of the word. “i was looking towards more of a wolf, but i’d like to see what being a penguin is.”

“is it, perchance, pleasing to the eye? cute?”

@gladofwar

     “I would hope so - considering I don’t have. . .BALLS.”