sorrow's tide

necrowhisper  asked:

Are there any written/historical kennings for Fenrir, Angrboda, or Jormungandr? What are your own kennings and epithets for them?

Historical kennings for Angrboda are rare seeing as she’s only mentioned in passing at any one point. However, since kennings can be composed of relationships with others (i.e. the son of ___) there are some that though aren’t specifically named, I think we can safely consider them a historically based kenning. So with that said we’ve got

  • She Who Offers Sorrow 
  • The Hag/Old Woman/Witch of the Ironwood - from Völuspá st. 40
  • The Mother of the Wolf
  • The Mother of Wolves (in Gylfaginning it is said all wolves descend from her)
  • The Mother of the Serpent
  • The Mother of Hel
  • The Mother of Death (hel is often used interchangeably with death)
  • Consort of Loki
  • Foreboding (technically more of a heiti but still)

A modern kenning that is popular for her:

  • “Queen of the Ironwood” - originated with Raven Kaldera. I do not agree with his UPG on the matter but the kenning still stands in use. UPG is that there are multiple tribes within the Ironwood and Angrboda is queen of them afaik. 

My own kennings for Angrboda:

  • She Who Spits Out the Suffer
  • She of Troll-Women’s Fire
  • Mother of Monsters
  • She Whose Children Were Stolen
  • Matriarch of the Ironwood
  • She Whose Love is Monstrous
  • The Mother of the Abandoned
  • The Lady of Fangs and Thorns
  • She Who is Brutal and Inevitable
  • She of Unrelenting Pressure
  • She Who Haunts the Fen
  • Mother of the Monstrous Brood
  • She of the Tirelessly Struggling Mothers
  • She Who Walks With the Mothers Locked Away

Other kennings are either too personal to share on a resource-type list like this or are things I have the general feeling of but not the talent with words to express. The latter applies to Jorm and Fenrir too because I suck with words.

Historical Kennings for Jormungandr

  • The Serpent
  • The Great Serpent - both from Völuspá st. 50
  • He Whom the Gods Hate
  • The Foe of the Gods - this and the above are different translations from Hymiskviða st. 22
  • The Circumscriber of the Earth - Hymiskviða st. 22
  • The Earth Girdler - Völuspá st. 55
  • Sea-Wolf - Hymiskviða st. 24
  • Great Wolf’s Fish - Grímnismál st. 21
  • The Most Baleful - Hyndluljóð st, 40
  • Sea Road’s Circler - Skáldskaparmál
  • Hateful Sea Fish (that the Land Confines) - Skáldskaparmál
  • The Rain-Beat Snake - Skáldskaparmál
  • The Snake Encircling the Earth - Skáldskaparmál
  • The Vast Monster - Skáldskaparmál
  • Winding Sea-Snake - Skáldskaparmál
  • Brother of the Wolf
  • Brother of Death/Hel (context would clarify between Jorm and Fenrir)
  • Tyr of Serpents - based on info in Skáldskaparmál
  • Foe of the Thunder-God
  • Bane of Thor
  • Son of Loki (context would clarify between Jorm and Fenrir)
  • Son of Angrboda (context would clarify between Jorm and Fenrir)

My kennings for Jormungandr (I see Jorm as genderless in my workings hence the use of zie/zir pronouns).

  • Zie of the Turning Tides
  • Zie Who Sends the Tidal Waves
  • Zie Who Thrashes With Zir Father’s Pain
  • Zie Who Watches Silently
  • Elk of the Sea’s Depths
  • Zie Who Survives Against All Odds
  • Zie of the Origin in the Terminus
  • Zie Who Creates From Destruction
  • Zie Who Sheds All Sorrows
  • Long Dog of the Sea
  • The Greatest Dangernoodle
  • The Unboopable One

Historical Kennings for Fenrir

  • The Ravener - Völuspá st. 44
  • The Wolf - Völuspá st.53
  • Beast of Slaughter - Völuspá st. 54
  • Hrodvitnir - Grímnismál st. 39, is actually a heiti but whatever
  • Famewolf (translation of Hrodvitnir)
  • Foe of Odin - Skáldskaparmál
  • Monster of Ván - Skáldskaparmál
  • Tyr of Wolves - based on info in Skáldskaparmál
  • Bane of the High-God
  • The Second Grief of Frigg - Völuspá st. 53
  • Son of Loki (context would clarify between Jorm and Fenrir)
  • Son of Angrboda (context would clarify between Jorm and Fenrir)
  • Brother of Death/Hel (context would clarify between Jorm and Fenrir)
  • Father of Hati (and Skoll if one decides they believe Skoll and Fenrir are not actually one and the same)

My kennings for Fenrir:

  • He Who Was Freed Through Chains 
  • He Who is Enslaved By Pride
  • He Who Stalks the Fen
  • The Greatest Sedge-Elk 
  • The Bravest Cub of the Ironwood
  • He Who Devours (All)
  • He With Teeth Like Obsidian
  • Gleipnir’s Reluctant Companion
  • Gleipnir’s Prisoner
  • He Who Was Stolen and Then Betrayed
  • He Who Punishes the Oathbreakers
  • He Who Lopes Like a Lava Flow

Knowing my brain I’m forgetting some and I can’t my list of notes but hope this helps regardless. :>

Zutara Week Day 2 - Underwater

“’Cause all I need
Is the love you breathe.
Put your lips on me
and I can breathe

                             underwater.”

“All I want to do, is disappear, and not be seen again.”

Her hands are around his face, lifting him up. She always does that, drags him back to life when all he wants is to fade away.

“Come here, Zuko.”

She always does this, pulls him from this well of sorts, and it always feels the same, her hands dripping water running like rivulets through her fingers on his chin. The kiss she presses to his lips is searing, burning, a beat of life against his cold mouth.

He could live without her - they are not codependent. The weight of his responsibility keeps him alive even if on the dark days it presses him to the ocean floor.

She is the bright fire of joy in his life, warmth, laughter, the sweeter things that need more air than the depths of water can afford. And he, he cools her rage, washes over her sorrows like a calming tide to carry them far away that she can rest easy.

They are opposites; they are two sides of a whole.

He kisses her frequently, for he is a king and kings ought to be madly in love with their fantastic, beautiful, talented wives.

When the dark days press in, threatening to overwhelm like the ocean’s wave, he kisses her.

It is like taking a breath and giving one.

He sinks to the bottom, still, but it’s never as deep as the time before. He sinks to the bottom with lungs full of air to carry warmth and laughter through all his days.

( @zutaraweek​ )

Had the sudden realization that the anniversary of losing my job and starting all this goddamn mess is on Tuesday. 

Two. Fucking. Years. Of fighting with SSDI.

Between that and two weeks of my ruined insides slowly patching themselves back together, no wonder I’ve been so pissy.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and by Tuesday I’ll be hale enough to drown my sorrows under a tide of BBQ sauce.

all she has to offer is her shield
her heart is too scarred by swords for loyalty
his armies have laid waste to her sacred stone
wrought fire and intentions without weight on broken lips
but her shield, strong and swift, for a bloodless victory?
that is something she can offer

“brave warrior, things will be different.”

all she can give are strategies inked in lives
his soldiers’ cries rest still in each keen throat
her wronged plans summon gold to empty eyes
raging tides and sorrow burning marks on bruised cheeks
but her ink, cruel yet cunning, for an empty battlefield?
that is something she can give

“brave warrior, dry your eyes. things will change.”

all he has to offer is a promise
his soul is too hardened by war for deceit
her parchment has hope woven deep in their threads
berry stains and wisdom written softly on wounded mouths
but his promise, ardent and alive, for the hope she brings?
that is something he can offer

“sweet wisdom, things will be different.”

all he can give is strength sullied in blood
her plans cast down chaos from chosen hands
his joyous tears sing triumph from their iron veins
clashing blades and tasting sweet triumph on roaring tongues
but his strength, rusted but ready, for the lives that can she save?
that is something he can give

“sweet wisdom, dry your eyes. everything has changed.”

—  war and wisdom, a.d.

bluewavesofsunshine  asked:

Feeling isn't a bad thing. I cant stress this enough. It's beautiful, the pain of sorrow, the tide of relief, the bounce of excitement. I think people should be aware, really open up to it, close their eyes, and feel. No shame in the feeling game. :)

I completely agree.
People should be comfortable to feel.
It’s human and a perfect trait tbh.
What’s scary is those who don’t feel at all.

Request: Blinding Light

Request: Gabriel x reader. after Gabe ‘dies’, you become really depressed and suicidal, but you hide it from the boys. after a dream where he comes and you think he’s back, you break. you recklessly go on a hunt alone against a supposed ghost, but it’s a rouge angel and you are blinded. Gabriel comes back and y/n doesn’t believe it’s him. everything is up to you, just don’t change Gabriel or blinding

Word Count: 535

Here it is, I hope you like it!

It’s the same every morning. You wake up, search for the warm body beside you, before the realization comes crashing over you that Gabriel is gone and you’re left in a puddle of your own misery.

It’s been nearly six months since Luficer offed your angelic boyfriend and not a day goes by when you can’t feel the tearing, festering pain in your soul. You miss him with every fibre of your being and you just feel downright empty and wrong without him there.

Your world disappeared when Gabriel died. You’re the shell of what you were, but you pretend, for Sam and Dean’s sake. They don’t need your worries on your shoulders, not with everything else they have to deal with.

In all honesty, you’re breaking inside. But every morning, without fail, you drag your aching, ruined form from the bed and force yourself to go ahead with the day, no matter how pointless and meaningless it all seems.

“Y/N…. Y/N…. it’s me.”

“G-Gabe?”

“Hey, cupcake. Sorry I took so long.”

“It’s- it’s actually you.”

“Well done, babe. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you? That doesn’t even halfway cover it.”

You wake up with tear-stained cheeks, your whole body shaking. You can’t even command the will to sit up, you just curl over on yourself and allow yourself to cry. It feels like hours, just wallowing.

Sometimes, it’s just too hard to cope.

Suddenly, the tide of sorrow is flushed away, replaced with a strange sense of lust. The lust for action, the lust for revenge, even in the tiniest way.

You’re up like a shot, suddenly grabbing at papers on your desk.

Suspected ghost, victims found faceless, local woman, years ago, found with face burned off.

It all adds up perfectly. You begin throwing things into your bag- salt, iron blade, a canister of kerosene and a lighter… in minutes, you’re wiggling your way out through the window.

The trek to the warehouse seems to take hours, but when you make it, you lie in wait for ghostie to make an appearance.

You wait for hours on end. Hours. It’s dark when you hear a rustling and make a run for the rusted shelf. However, you freeze as you see a figure appear before you.

Suddenly, the room is filled with a bright, bright light and a blinding pain shrieks through your eyes. You cover them, but fall to your knees as the light disappears and you lose consciousness.

***

“Y/N?! Y/N! Come back to me, come on!” Someone’s shaking you and everything is dark. You thrash around, ignoring the aching in your whole body.

“No!” You yell, trying to get away from your captor.

“Y/N, it’s me! It’s Gabriel.” He says softly, stroking your hair back from your face. “Come on, cupcake. You know it’s me.”

“You’re dead.”

“I was.”

“It’s not you! I’m dreaming, I’m dead! Make it stop!” You shriek, but your voice quickly fades to a sob. “Please, make it stop.”

A larger hand envelopes your smaller one and suddenly your palm is pressed to a warm cheek, slightly stubbled. Familiar.

Gabriel.

“I-It’s you.” You whisper. Gabriel nods against your hand, smiling.

“It’s me. Sorry it took so long, sugar.”