R O P E J O Y !

Putting all these copper ingots in my tight sumerian pussy

you pull them out and they have been forged into a beautiful blade due to the furnace-like properties of a pussy

the copper coochie blade of Enki.....

it is not often that a device of destruction is created so beautiful

𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐊𝐈'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄. not that he didn't already try enough as it was. more of a 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 then truths. sadly , it seemed he had something planned out for his endearing friend.

( when the bear scrounged for honey , did it not find it's paws in hives that it didn't belong in ?? it was as if Odin spotted the bear along time ago , and was able to place what kindve breed it was. )

he felt as if the adventure that he was told to go on would be something of a BORE. but he wasn't alone , that was the troubling news.

@pekkt seemed easy enough. if easy was worded with minced garlic and plated meals. she wasnt exactly what he was expecting , but with ODIN he was never sure who to expect. he kept his tongue silenced until finally , " let's see --- left , or right path ?? " he asked as they came to a fork in the road, " I like to think either should bring us there. , but isn't that just the obvious answer ?? "

old man can't tell her what she ought to do, what she will do, but he has a way of convincing the dirt and the sky and her mountain of a father that has her pushed (quite literally) out of mother's nest anyhow.

there are feathers still poking out of her skin here and there, shedding like leaves from a fall tree as she stomps along grumpily. quiet isn't necessarily her thing these days but old man got her tongue good with this and she's been biting it since they set out, until her companion finally breaks the silence like a twig under a boot.

"could just turn around, isn't that the better answer?" she grumbles. a tuft of newborn fuzz feathers is pulled from the bare of her shoulder and she flicks it away. there's no way odin is gonna allow it. she wonders what kinda bird he is up in these trees, the nosy fuck.

sigyn eyes loki, sizes him up and scrunches her nose with a sniff and a drag of her finger under her nostrils.

"left. i guess. fuck it."

he’s this considerably pitiful heap, gaze occasionally lifting, darting around his surroundings, hypervigilant in sight and sound. bullet wounds are no strangers; plenty have been lovers to leave their marks behind on his skin. but this one stings as equally in his skull and the pit of his chest as much as it does at the site of the wound, itself.

the burn of disinfectant detracts from what simmers beneath the surface; he focuses on that, jaw clicking, and he swallows a minute amount of blood from the bite, watches as his wound bleeds, too, diluted with antiseptic, dripping a light red trail down clammy skin, onto an attachment component, down the prosthetic, onto the grit of pavement below.

the hell happened to you?

settled as he was on the sting, he’d nearly made the move to reach for a suture kit until a voice visibly winds up all of the tension in his body, steely eyes shooting too unsettlingly quickly in the direction from which it came. his breath catches in his throat; the glare’s in his eyes by default, but there’s a subtle edge of hesitation, there, caution that could be perceived if you look close enough.

he says nothing for a moment, breathing in such a way that she can catch the rise and fall of his chest, his shoulders.

“why is this your concern.” deadpan, hardly sounding like a question. he doesn’t move; he’s seated on the ground, but he does plant his boots in front of him, bent knees, scooting backward just a couple of inches, some wild animal retreating into a corner and ready to lash out at a moment’s notice. “why is this your concern,” he repeats again, challenging. it’s more a warning than it is a demand for an answer.

she's had beat up tomcats spit and hiss more than this and for less, so there's not a lick of worry painting her face pretty when he tucks into himself and shoots her words like a cocked gun.

well, it's a good question, she reasons. why is it her concern? what good does it do to give a shit about a broken thing like this making a mess behind scummy buildings that have seen worse in these alleyways? the asphalt sweats beneathe her boots, under the slick of his bleed out, on account of the humidity of the air seeping into it's cracks.

breathing feels like drowning in places with weather like this shit. what's it feel like for him, though?

"it isn't, i'm just nosy as fuck is all," and buzzing with a thick layer of who-gives-a-shit notion from the liquor still warm in her belly. nosy. curious, she means, but it doesn't translate to true concern right away.

sigyn stands up and with three bold steps comes close enough to corner him against the wall behind him and the pile of garbage to the left. for a moment all she does is lower her gaze and s t a r e.

then it's back to a crouch, one knee lowered carelessly into the mess of blood as she does so. sigyn lifts her hands, like a magician trying to convince the audience there is no real trick before the magic begins.

"and i guess i'm pretty good in these sorts of matters. nursed worse wounds myself. you gonna tell me you don't want help? because i'm gonna tell you i don't really care that you don't want it, i'm giving it just the same. such is my lot in this life, as it were."

happle tea

Thinking about trolls (+elves, huldufólk, others) in light of Eduardo Vivieros de Castro. I'm not willing to say that pre-Christian Scaninavians were perspectivists in Amazonian style, but I do think that looking at Norse religion and later Nordic folklore through that lens is productive.

@chalksoul:

Trying to define exactly what a troll is in Icelandic literature is a notorious problem, and that includes what their relationship to jötnar is (and when you throw rísi, þurs, hrímþurs, bergbúi, flagð, skessa, etc into the mix it gets even more impossible to categorize neatly). I wouldn't say that trolls and jötnar are the same thing, but exactly what the difference is isn't clear at all. Jötnar tend to be more powerful, and there may be a tendency to locate them far away, especially in longer narratives/sagas/fairy tales, but they are also situated in Iceland too, including stories about human people encountering jötnar presented as historical reality (whether they were believed being kind of a secondary question that applies equally to stories where the word tröll is used). I don't think it's a categorical difference but there is a tendency for jötnar to be male and trolls to be female. Trolls and jötnar marry each other, or have each other as children. I know of at least one instance of jötunn being the answer to the question "what kind of tröllvættur is that?" In the þáttur I mentioned, Orms þáttr Stórólfssonar, Brúsi is first called a jötunn, and then immediately described as a 'great troll and man-eater."

Icelandic folklore really doesn't have a hard, or at least not systematic, distinction between our world and a mythological world. Euhemerism did continue to be an important way to interpret the myths for hundreds of years into modern times -- I once had a random stranger explain what the Edda really meant in historical terms in the parking lot of an Icelandic grocery store (Auðumbla is actually the mountain Esjan to the north of Reykjavík, apparently). But I think for most Icelanders, however they split it up (if they do), they would put trolls and jötnar on the same side of that split, i.e. you either have both or neither (however, that they are all really just demons would always be a possibility).

But anyway, even with that said it's true that it might not be reasonable to lean into the etymology of jötunn to analyze trolls, and especially not to place that etymological connection hundreds of years before the stories about trolls that I'm talking about, but yeah in Iceland there is at least a much closer relationship between them and no systematic way to distinguish one from the other.

Thank you for long and detailed answer! I'm from Gotland so it's geographically as far form Iceland you get in Scandinavia so it's bound to be lot of differences. Here it's almost as things are in three layers. The normal world of you and me, the world of väsen where things like troll, huldra and rå dwells. Both here and not here. If you believe in them they can directly affect our world. (including getting married to you etc) and the third layer is the one of myth and sagas. Where the old gods, jötunn and things like that is. While in Myths they can travel to our world, they are not expected to exist in it. Of course, all of this is generalizations of 1000 year of folklore that is never static. I would say the role of Trolls in Gotlandic myth is that they are us, but others. They do things different and backwards. They are however rarely consider a threat unless you do something to anger and provoke them. The wrath of a troll is by your own machinations. (again, wide generalization of the word Troll)

@foundcarcosa inspirational