norse-mythology

Mrs. Pott's beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am! I've taken a chance on you..

That's it? That's all that happens after you topple from grace? We lose our rubies and rations?" Marshall smirked. "Woe is me.

Mrs. Potts beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am!

She swung her legs around his waist and crossed her ankles behind his back. __ like the way your mind works,_ she panted before losing herself in the sensation of his hardness rubbing against her core. Lief took the few steps across the room to the bed in record time and flung her down on the covers. He leaned back to tear his clothes off. __y mind hardly works at all when you are near._ She chuckled leaning back on her elbows, enjoying the view of naked flesh being revealed. She rose up on her knees and traced the ridges on his chest and abdomen. As her fingers trailed down toward his proud shaft, he captured her wrists.__e careful._ He smiled down at her. ____ loaded and might go off any minute.__he laughed. __ou__e been watching too many old Western movies with Harold.

Can__ a girl wear something pretty without you getting ideas of bedding her?_ Naya reached up, putting her hand behind his neck to pull him down for a kiss. She__ never get enough of touching him. Of trusting him.

And yet, it was still a performance. Odin and I both knew it. It was a kind of play, a dream of how things might have been if he and I had been capable of trusting each other for a change. And so we hunted, and sang, and laughed, and told heavily edited stories of the good old days, while each of us watched the other and wondered when the knife would fall.

Hjuki and BilHjuki and Bil chased the moon,With waters from Byrgir__ well,Upon their shoulders they did share,Simul the pole and Saegr.__ani,_ they cried and chased the sky,__rom Byrgir whence we came,To water the earth and water your drink,And water the seas with rain_.Hati looked back and Skol ahead,But Mani gave no reply,For Hjuki he took, and bent his crook,And Bil was taken thereafter.Hjuki and Bil still chase the moon,From Byrgir whence they came,To water the earth and water the drink,And water the seas with rain.

Now he understood what it was to be a man: that it was to be weak as well as strong, to be foolish sometimes and wise sometimes, to know love as well as to kill. And he had learned that there were other paths for him, other gods who called in the deep places of the earth, in the lap of wavelets on the shore, in the breath of the wind. He had learned that there were other kinds of courage. He knew, with deep certainty, that the islands held a new path for him. He need only move forward and find it.

Well, that's history for you, folks. Unfair, untrue and for the most part written by folk who weren't even there.

Your wolf is eating that man. I thought you should know.

If you survive in battle, it is with Odin's grace, and if you fall, it is because he has betrayed you.

Those movies... ridiculously inaccurate. The real gods of Asgard _ Thor, Loki, Odin, and the rest _ are much more powerful, much more terrifying than anything Hollywood could concoct.

I happen to know that history is nothing but a spin and metaphor, which is what all yarns are made up of, when you strip them down to the underlay. And what makes a hit or a myth, of course, is how that story is told, and by whom.

The black thing in her brain and the dark water on the page were the same thing, a form of knowledge. This is how myths work. They are things, creatures, stories, inhabiting the mind. They cannot be explained and do not explain; they are neither creeds nor allegories. The black was now in the thin child__ head and was part of the way she took in every new thing she encountered.

But if you write a version of Ragnarok in the twenty-first century, it is haunted by the imagining of a different end of things. We are a species of animal which is bringing about the end of the world we were born into. Not out of evil or malice, or not mainly, but because of a lopsided mixture of extraordinary cleverness, extraordinary greed, extraordinary proliferation of our own kind, and a biologically built-in short-sightedness.

You know why I really hated you? With all that you had you were just so oblivious to it all. You didn't use your beauty. You didn't ever try to get what you wanted. You didn't deserve what you had. I did because I would have used it. And you just...loved me. Loved me no matter what I did. You have no idea how I despised you for that. I wanted you gone."'The Yielding