#frey frost bite | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ayearinfaith · 5 years

Photo

𝗔 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗙𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟱𝟯: 𝗗𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗳

Dwarves are a race of supernatural people from Germanic mythology. Dwarves are better attested than other aspects of Germanic mythology (like Elves) and appear to have maintained an evolving but unbroken thread from paganism through Christianity. Like other Germanic creatures, they enjoy a modern resurgence in popularity thanks largely to the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien.

𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗗𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗳

There are almost no explicit descriptions of Dwarves in the Eddas, the 13th century Icelandic texts that are the primary source of knowledge of Old Norse Religion. However, we do know that Anglo-Saxons around the start of the 2nd Millennium used the word as a translation for the Greek Pygmies (mythical short people from a quasi-mythical southern continent) and High German tales from the same period explicitly describe them as short, bearded, and supernaturally strong. Other still common Dwarvish traits, such as living underground, being talented smiths, and greed, are traceable via the Eddas to pre-Christian traditions. Eddic Dwarves come from Nidavellir (lit. “dark/lower fields”) or Myrkheim (“dark home”), they are responsible for creating treasures, such as the thunder god Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir, and Gleipnir, the chains that bind the monstrous wolf, Fenrir, and kill gods and giants alike in the name of riches (see Fjalar and Galar below). As mentioned above, the modern Dwarves of high fantasy largely come from the tropes established by J.R.R. Tolkien in his books 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘵 (1937) and the 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 trilogy (1954). These tropes are for the most part the same as the pagan and medieval traditions, though somewhat more embellished to give the Dwarves a full history as a race as opposed to a kind of naturally occurring spirit. The names of the Dwarves in the Hobbit are lifted directly from a list of Dwarf names found in the Eddas. One of the most distinctive features of Tolkien’s invention was the antagonistic relation between Dwarves and Elves; the former being gruff, practical, and low prestige, and the latter being elegant, aristocratic, and renowned. An interesting distinction between the modern Dwarf and Tolkien’s is language: most Dwarves in modern media have Scottish or otherwise Celtic accents, but Tolkien imagined his Dwarves to speak with Middle Eastern accents, as their native tongue, Khuzdul, was based on Hebrew and other Semitic languages. Tolkien actually wove many features of European Jewry into his Dwarves: a misunderstood diaspora people with a distinct secretive culture. The Celtic-ness of Dwarves is generally attributed to 𝘋𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴, as its creator, Gary Gygax, was fan of the 1953 fantasy book 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, which featured an explicitly Scottish Dwarf. This theme probably piggy backed on the Tolkien Dwarf-Elf contrast: Elves naturally were given the prestigious English Received Pronunciation so the contrary Dwarves must have the working-class and anti-establishment accents of North England and Scotland.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗗𝘄𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘀

𝗖𝗼𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗗𝘄𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘀

In the Eddas Dwarves are born from the corpse of the primordial Frost Giant, Ymir, who is killed by Odin and whose body parts are used to create the earth. Dwarves are said to be born either from Ymir’s blood or from maggots in his flesh. When fashioning the dome of the sky from Ymir’s skull, Odin appoints four Dwarves to hold it up: Northri, Suthri, Austri, and Westri, whose names are simply the four cardinal directions.

𝗙𝗷𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗿

Fjalar and Galar appear on the Eddas as the creators of the Mead of Poetry. They do this by killing the god of wisdom, Kvasir, and brewing his blood. They use this magical mead to their own profit and for reasons not fully explained end up adding a giant and his wife to their body count. The giant couple’s son, Suttungr, learns of this misdead. He kidnaps Fjalar and Galar and ties them to a reef at low tide, waiting for high tide to come in and drown them. Fjalar and Galar are able to talk their way out of the predicament at the cost of the Mead of Poetry. It is later stolen from Suttungr by Odin.

𝗔𝗹𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗹𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘀

The German epic hero, Siegfried (Sigurd in Scandinavia) is known both from the classical 13th century epic the 𝘕𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 (song of the Nibelungs) and the 19th century operatic cycle by Richard Wagner; 𝘋𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘕𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘯 (The Ring of the Nibelung). Though versions vary, they get their name from a magical treasure kept guarded by the Nibelungs, who are sometimes humans but are also portrayed as Dwarves, ruled by king Alberich. Alberich becomes Oberon in French, from which Shakespeare got the name of the Fairy king in 𝘈 𝘔𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵’𝘴 𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮.

𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗸𝗿, 𝗘𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗶, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗜𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗱𝗶

When the trickster god, Loki, cuts off the hair of Sif, Thor’s wife, he finds himself in the impossible situation of having to replace it, lest he face the thunder god’s wrath. Luckily for Loki, the Dwarves are capable of making almost any treasure and Loki hatches a plan not just to get Sif’s hair back, but also a fair amount of treasure and the favor of the other gods. Loki invents a competition, in which the Dwarves will compete with their crafts to impress the gods: 3 treasures each. One group Loki ensnares are known only as the Sons of Ivaldi. To these capable smiths Loki entrusts the creation of Sif’s new hair, a treasure he believes is sure to win. He also ropes in the brothers Brokkr and Eitri (also called Sindri). The brothers rightfully suspect Loki of mischief, and agree only on the terms they can have his head if they win. Loki, certain they won’t, agrees. Loki further ensures himself against decapitation by transforming into a fly and biting the brothers, but they prove quite steadfast. The next day the competition is held, with the gods Thor, Odin, and Frey as the judges. The Sons of Ivaldi present Skidbladnir, the fastest ship ever made which can be folded into ones pocket, Gungir, Odin’s spear which always hits its target, and, of course, new beautiful golden hair for Sif, which will grow like real hair. Brokkr and Eitri then present their treasures: Gullinbursti, the golden boar that will pulls Frey’s chariot, Draupnir, a golden armband that replicates itself eightfold every nine days, and Mjolnir, Thor’s fearsome hammer. Loki is horrified to find the gods are more impressed with Brokkr and Eitri’s gifts. Loki saves his head, claiming that he had not promised any of his neck, and the Dwarves could not remove one without damaging the other. Instead, Brokkr and Eitri sew Loki’s mouth shut.

𝗔𝗻𝗱𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶, 𝗢́𝘁𝗿, 𝗙𝗮𝗳𝗻𝗶𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗥𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻

These are also Dwarves from the Nibelung legends, though they are not generally of the Nibelung tribe. The tale begins with Andvari, who ends up getting caught by Loki while in the form of a fish. Andvari is forced to pay all his gold to Loki, including a magic ring, but not before cursing it all. Years later a similar blunder occurs, when Loki kills the Dwarf Ótr who had taken the form of an otter. Ótr’s father, king Hreidmar, demands recompense from Loki. Loki pays up using the cursed gold of Andvari. The curse of greed ends up driving one of Hreidmar’s other sons, Fafnir, mad. Fafnir kills his father, steals the gold, and turns into a dragon, blighting the land, to guard his treasure. The final son of Hreidmar, Regin, ends up as a kind of foster-father to the young Siegfried/Sigurd. Regin raises him to be a great warrior and forges the great sword Gram. When the time comes, Regin asks Siegfried to kill the dragon Fafnir. In the process, Siegfried tastes some of the dragon’s blood, gifting him to understand the language of the birds. The birds reveal that, tragically, Regin has long been afflicted by the cursed gold and is planning to kill Siegfried for it. Siegfried kills Regin first, ending this particular chapter.

Image Source: Cover art for 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴, Keith Parkinson, 1988, https://www.keithparkinson.com/

#A Year in Faith #Dwarf #Religion #Mythology #Day 53

15 notes · View notes

sakura3hanami · 6 years

Text

Cherry tree season

@cheezbot @aubreycanalaine @wish-i-could-rewind-time @brodr1guez @memasos @naruheaicon @iconsniconii @sourfleapizza @lover-of-art-things @anime-mangax @because-you-exist @naruto-nerd-anime-lover @bitchymuggle @ladyofreincarnation @piajvra @fireandcherryblossoms @herprettysmile @sasusaku-on-konoha @dinachuus-art @naruho07 @tthe-toy-master @daniellefelldownthewell @shoritecakexx @therealprovert @aah-yakashi @sakuraharuno156 @yes-i-love-dreaming @shannaroda @nadhwithanimeworld @nellynkqa @master-throne @simmer265626 @a-not-so-interesting-url @snooty-snoot @eunsuustuff @change-myworld @sharinnegone @emerald123098 @emerald-knightingale @tsunderefairy @the-chunin-exams @thelightskinnedhokage @frei-hime @pervert-sniffing-king @itspizzachan @viasatellite @limpdicksamurai @sakura933 @onlyawesomepoop @ethereal-litmus @uchiha-salad @hobipare @jess1up @soundousotakujnh @ultralovenamime @nicole3am @gawdofkonaha @thefacade-23 @tognatale @xx4tunecookiexx @belsak @msrose1322 @qimeras @bishiekun @powtripfalldieyay @purplehimex @teacher-monica @goy2ken @sakura2606 @stupid-and-sensual-otaku @hattahatake @naruhokagay @eldianhope @m-madara-kun @kago-mae @sasusakufan-thebestship @sheyul @maya-and-world @dj-diabetic @myanimenstuff @kaneki-kenway @unduendesellevamiscosas @hiimkrakenapolo @daze-xo @fragmentedrecords @whattadragg @namitsumiki @cerebralarchitect @gobloominggarden @sarcasticbrownie @zaytakemeaway @kakashixirukalover14 @unstable-viper @xbittercheri @boldlyshamelessland @sasusakusilhouettes @sakurahiwatari @the-uchiha-matriarch @daephine @shihosenpai3060 @twocxlors97 @p-a-n-d-a-19 @nerazennxx @kabuchimaru @fallensoccerangel @cris-htfck @lawxnami-love-you @narutolover04 @7thhokage-uzumaki-naruto @yourlipsonmine-xo @jetstreamgirl @seriouslysasuke @canijumpoffacliffnow @dragonblossomcosplay @love-life-beauty-truth @leslieeaton @astraeusx @rinkashi-chikito @itsforfuckingreal @sakura-ino @s4su-saku @silenced-x @sasusakusara23 @lady-catt @scrmnlaughter @caffeinesmiles @dudusaku @taemintss @jdrewbiebs12 @ya-girl-rayy @quelsognoconteaccanto @sakurakitty4 @kluvfantasy @yestosakura @rivai-heichou-san @sadastic @celestial-ground @maidenofkonoha @sakurhiita-blog @walkingcherrysoul @lulaship @saeuniverse @beckymotoangelofall @tati002 @grollenfiedel21 @fullmetal-alchemoist @kimono @xgeektacularx @euphonia @m-e8zula @the-naruto-experience @gerkyhen @nerderina @luadcalifornia @patrycia1412 @seigibathala @ave-hikaru @sasukethis-sasukethat @sociopata-homicidal @unlimitedelations @narwain-the-inquisitor @mechapilpon @aredsuper2011 @idiotsot17 @danedehaanlov3r @wordsandemotions @1683052a @xpandabeardontcarex @rozyuchiha @dekurollins @sunflwz @princessgayass @aineleem @diverse-world-baby @akuatsu @forgotten-username @the-british-bunny @slytherinskyrah @steamboatsusie @chinahgurl @cybersmr-r @ne-kreemo @lolo1821 @herwarth-x3 @kgtriessohard @paradissestuff @if-you-hear-me-i-care @marhurricane @henlodramione @quietly-chaotic-minds @pablogames0212 @ivypoison @moonvixx @the-little-ish-that-could @donmosh @miyukichii @crymen-carmen @sasakolove22 @icreatedthesoundofmadness- @honkytonkbabe @gonerami @yllherebelfrost @dakar413 @bluntsbabesandgamesohmy @elybetta98 @avengingspiritarchive @alismible @isabella-si @pumkinqueen @epic-procrastination @chienakamura @ifitaintme @butchlol @lasirenadeluniverso @lauraanadeszhda @nitzedapanda @daager @hypnopartyduckland @otakuanisa @pizza3456 @kitsunekun17 @always-down-to-nap @uchihanes @embraceyourdeal @tia-marsh @hlissa53 @blackbloodedhabanero @princess7946 @dattebayoonarutoo @ninjafox90124 @iw0rstnightmare @aiuchihashadow @imlusion @loca2pala @laylatvb101 @whateversart @shinyhairhands @mordereme @iamtheproblematicfave @smartshadowguy @elizabeth-diane @karensk @therecexz @beckiesalvatore @lorenatsubaki @shithole1996 @noodioelamorelmeodiaami @brendarib14 @coralkingtale @disqordiaastrife @hana-himawari @fawnsoftly @maikoneri @hace7 @ccelestial-princess @universeisgod @souheir19 @akira-waterfall @e-i-s-a @ragiesoufstuff @aliuchiha23 @natsu1998 @hiynata @poisoned-violet @mechanicraven @phantmrose-blog @notademonfox @ritsutainaka29 @thenymphofthecherrytree @inseparablel @narudo-dattebayo @reem123456788 @kanatyy @chikoxxx16 @fxckingspecial @i-loveanime1 @my-catch22 @kingstarunivrs @yaretzi-sama1 @igkunoichi @freealmondturkeypasta @onee-chan09productions @garychang1972 @ripit04 @suotredazneyaro @giulianogueiras2 @alex-le-barje @velframme @fuckoff160216 @fatalfascination @real-teddy-bear @slushxvld @staiguardandome @mysouldarkerthanblack @wibblywobblywitchyhuff @seattlegirl14 @anim-mas14 @loksforever8 @fairyfeva @schaengarthit @sunshine-himawari @mangetsunotasogare-doki @shannaro-kamo @gyveglient @leonmosby3 @embracethebeardatlanta-blog @ryuken321 @give-meyourlife @selenexyz @bluue-oceann @aelinsg @dave32glo @mewsyy @yeaheunhae @I-wells @softvchiha @shamelessheartcowboy @saladzzzzzzzz @amityamore93 @catloversplace @laxusxuchiha @krishakissable @criminationlove @juozaspo @best-of-yoonmin @cromokhunter @larumey @milly0578 @anapaula528 @hikikomori-child @lord-sasuke-x @idlyindie @nevergear3d @mara-tan @uriel-neeb @animegirl1201 @saradaborutomitsuki @sasusakudania23 @jully257 @arvoresdossonhos @foreverandeverthetalian @giovannafaquineti @hardstreetstyleanimalsskeleton @the-lost-nurse @ciansantos @vito4445 @bobbrwhlbb @vittorymaitolee @harunojeanne @arekushisu1 @superlasek @labrinthapple @yatorifeels @esposs24 @justmeabunny @komatoz @sashabanks20 @kayanodu1306 @generousgardeofwordsgifbanana @katieboucher @skull9607 @6footgarfi @kouichi-16 @monkeydluffyforever @dreamstarworld @theglauberfire @crown-of-boness @songofthemoon @wwwleo @aerandrialee @val-raven @frost-bites-johnlockotp @franxbelphegorb26 @inkithestrange @redmentalityxoxo @infamousosito @uchiha-sakura-queen @animekittyhmlover-blog @cherrypastels-chan @succobus @nalulover955 @the-otaku-one @4stranger @fernwehandlust @lovingbearpop @122944002 @billymenard @sakuraharuno98 @clownbynature @marianita666 @random-replay @et-glubglub @talofofo98 @neokunn @i-kill-myself-for-you @commanderbo0ty @buhhlimm @cake353 @con-rong-dien @tt39r @antu-rodriguez @asdfghloveu @ayah4095 @spectre5739 @its-ssteam @gilly-been @jrocsaidso @real-rale @namibearart @dllovato @imaan1243 @wreckless-love- @andrealmeida38007 @omgpichipichiworld @kat2002 @gabriel-waffles @hugo2911 @domcamatico @bethanyelizabethnicole @bitch8901 @nuutss @hpphantom @fairytailfan4life @biasasusakuhead @princesssakuraharuno @iq000king @xxsilverechoxx @justsomeperson @sasusaku-28 @paozzy262-blog @ferchohxd7 @dobby1981 @mackiex-xx @kanuto-1995 @khawajay @saxysenpai20 @arriba-de-las-nubes @rorie-queen-of-jupiter @kutelynkitty @khalecy @ithefuckingmighty @mynamezoella @donxiumi @yosschan16 @murasaki-senpai88 @punireridere @meowtrash @sakuranaruterathings @jinseriri-sama @chichichildish @shacharhos @wolfettehowl @glitter-ruinerofallgoodthings @b4b11 @thefirstemerald @queen-jiya @hilarilopez @patronus899 @pinkhairedlily @joshuaaxiii @xzazx @imalady-urnothingbutasister @xtainteddevilx @astrid345 @itsmiitaaiickg @hollyninetales @toloco98 @roxas6666 @mercy-to-man @aayira1997 @taylorshay7 @burninggun @uchiha-lover1998 @kathcardino08 @sasuke2055 @aldocasta @shadycuhz @pinkhaireduchiha @dantmp @danieleczeg @marvelstars @lilzz-stark @justicedoll @mrchancho @joker-157 @goodog23 @marangelys07 @e-art11 @1985-21 @vcuandd @elenabustillos @mechaniczero @jcerut-blog @cooljazzstylesme @najdanna @falirma @linkgamer1755 @nobrain13here @ziyaba @azamaria-heart @colorfulblue @mariahlambslbs @mayanakahoshi @gridpudim @edward-nightray @vinighostotaku @sanaismyseoulmate @xav1-xd @shanacastellano15 @meowitall @nekojousama11 @voidziv @rando-sempai @ricky2009 @dirtyoldbook @marshallowanonimo @narutofandomposts @santypyo @blankhai @keenglitterpuppy @flowergirl34663 @secretlychaoticstudent-me @natanjyega @superjennifer1997 @guraemisou @arii0812 @broodingpenguin @rockerchicksvix @sasukelovetomates @bellamariposa @evelynevening @nack1102 @eagoraanny @bdkkck93 @heartzombiee @pratik-ss @im-ready-to-talk @luciiafvla @caafernandes3 @thegreathokogay @sabrinakishi @nibba2 @badmad17 @eternxl-tsukuyomi @amootiagotmj @indifferent-1 @crazy-girl-world4 @kurisuteruan23 @cerise333 @littlehobbitofmoon @animex9@animex9 @lloydementt @alexandra9823 @cristophertoocute @omarcitoskate @xnarutonine @y-o-u-n-g-s-o-u-l @mitsuke-kun @roomotaky @aliciachannn @radcliffebass @shosuk @boisaturn @xamazinho44 @noisy-b0y @gruvia4evah @aboshahad1934 @sunshineinthepain @donitut @condor22 @37angrydragonflies @rcsagaz @minsuga090393 @ya-nastee @kirito-shisui-sama @snakes-bite-harder @starfiresusan18 @cryinglonelyy @panmyoochaa @lioyeah @zorronaruto @kurwa-jebane @emip69 @soph14dan @o-incognita @shirairyu-uchiha @pinzikawa-i @vaninarov @icharies @jjaemint @mschocoloca @totally-feliks @rini-uzumaki @sakuraharuno1713 @jasminenhatfield23 @nrebdanateom @sakurauchiha666 @watergirl199 @champuru @not-thechosenone @sakura9838 @soma-ulte @modern-equilibrium @insanityofmidori @i-guess-i-will-use-this-one @rodartesarai2013 @thewitchblack @uchihawaifu @kentobeans @adiosbullboy @smallkoneko @lapisceandream @valyfor777 @whitewolf-7 @popyvampire @happression @littlesticarus @mariancruzesc @coral-collector @god-of-all-shinobi @aricheeeen @who-stole-wednesday @nouhetr @amorsinpartituras @darkwolf1178 @kyoko2077 @aren143 @fate39 @catacastle @yukilikesneko @dear-crush-universe @chingchonh @sailorilaagermoon @nekonaomitard @manga-club-official @xsoulangelx0 @dilanes1611

#anime blog #manga blog #cherry tree #team7 #guilty crown #tokyo ghoul #full metal alchemist #full metal panic #sao

116 notes · View notes

kittykatknits · 7 years

Note

Hi! So I came across (several) posts stating how Sansa is "removed" from everything Northern and how Lady's death means she's less of a Stark and that she doesn't fit in the North arc as her arc is completely different from her siblings (which is magical),the Northerners won't accept her,SR destroying snow castle means she'll never return to WF etc. My question: Do you think Sansa will return North? Do you think she'll ever reunite w/ her siblings and stay in WF? Thanks

Oh yes, to both questions. Easily. I’d also say Sansa will be the first Stark to cross the gates into Winterfell and it’s quite possible she’ll serve as a focal or rallying point for her siblings.

As for the rest, Sansa suffers from a negative POV bias in the first book, and honestly, I’m often left with the feeling that the old adage is true, first impressions matter. I’m not going to get into the narrative structure of Sansa’s chapters or character in this but we can tackle the rest of it.

I’ll go through those comments, point by point, below. This is long because I don’t know how to shut up.

(1)First, Sansa isn’t removed from everything Northern. She happens to be the only Starkling born in winter, and as we know, winter is a time for wolves. Not only that, much of her story line is about her ties to the north, it’s why she’s being used for her claim. It’s also important to note Sansa’s claim is not just over Winterfell, it’s about her name. Sansa is a Stark, she’s descended from a line going back several thousand years. That matters a lot in Westerosi politics, where name and status mean so much. The girl has power and her story is very much about her learning to wield it.

Her strongest desire is to go home, back to Winterfell, back to the north, to the place her family has lived in and ruled over since Bran the Builder. She also has the distinction of featuring snow and winter imagery in her chapters. In fact, the prominence of both only increases as the books go on. I’d say of the Starklings, she shares it with Jon the most. Here are a few lines from aFfC below:

So lovely. The snow-clad summit of the Giant’s Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder.

The small diamond-shaped panes of the window were obscured by frost. Alayne rubbed at one with the heel of her hand, enough to glimpse a brilliant blue sky and a blaze of white from the mountainside. The Eyrie was wrapped in an icy mantle, the Giant’s Lance above buried in waist-deep snows.

Old snow cloaked the courtyard, and icicles hung down like crystal spears from the terraces and towers. The Eyrie was built of fine white stone, and winter’s mantle made it whiter still.

Shards of ice and snow rained down on them, and the oak creaked and strained. Robert gave a gasp and clung to her, burying his face between her breasts.

There are lots more I could mention but let’s focus on that last one. Shards of ice and snow are raining down on them. Literally, winter is falling in that quote and Sansa is the one leading Sweetrobin down the mountain. Remember what she said in SoS? She’s stronger within the walls of Winterfell. She’s stronger when winter falls. If that isn’t Northern, I don’t know what is.

Beyond that, this girl is a wolf, or more accurately, she can sometimes be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. However, Sansa never forgets who she is and she lets her fangs show at times:

A kind of madness took over her then, and she heard herself say, “Maybe my brother will give me your head.”

She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters,

When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she’d thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. “I want it burned.”

Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him.

We also get one of my favorite exchanges in the series:

“…Harrenhal has withered every hand to touch it.“

“Then give it to Lord Frey.”

-Alayne I, aFfC

None of the above are words or thoughts from a character that should be perceived as meek or passive. Sansa is one the most empathetic characters in the series and one of the kindest but she can be fierce too.

Now, as to Lady, the discourse tends to focus so much on whether Sansa got her wolf killed, even though the entire answer isn’t so simple. What happens after often gets overlooked:

When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.”

“All that way?” Jory said, astonished.

“All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”

- Eddard III, GoT

So, if the wolves are representations of the Stark children, then Sansa is currently the only Stark to have a piece of her soul within the grounds of Winterfell, none of the rest can make that claim. More than that, let’s look at what Ned is saying here, it’s foreshadowing. The Lannisters tried to lay claim to Lady but, ultimately, they failed. It’s the same with Sansa, they had her as a prisoner but they never got her skin. Ned also says that Lady will be taken north, all that way, with four men to act as an honor guard. Sansa is going to go north, with an army of men, and she will be able to do it, in part, because of the relationships her father built so long ago. Lady connects Sansa to the north.

(2)I’m really not sure what to make of her arc as being different from her siblings because of the lack of magic. For starters it’s horribly reductive, for all of them, not just Sansa. Jon’s arc is just as much about politics, negotiation, diplomacy, and leadership. Heck, part of his story in Dance is to count hams. Where’s the magic in that? It’s the same with Arya. Her arc also includes themes of leadership, identity, and justice v. vengeance. All of that matters as much as the magic.

Sansa is also a warg, just like her siblings. She’s mentioned by the Ghost of HH which connects her to magic. She has magical stories being told of her. And you’ll rip my Sansa is an empath theory out of my cold, undead, wightified hands. I’ll grant that magic is not as prevalent in her story line but completely devoid? Nope.

She also happens to have very similar story lines to both Bran and Arya. They start the series secure, are held prisoner, forced to hide behind false identities, have taken up with mentors that all have…well…dubious motives. All three are moving towards a point where they will somehow outsmart their teachers, reclaim their identity, and make their way home.

(3) I’m not going to break down the entire snow castle scene, its been done many times before and I don’t have much new to add at this point. However, as it relates to her, it’s the symbolism that matters.The giant managed to knock over a couple of tower roofs and part of a wall. The giant didn’t destroy WF, Sansa stopped him. Even more, the snow castle scene gives us this line:

She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

Not only that, we get this gem later:”You were bold enough in the snow.“

Lysa says that to Sansa just before trying to shove her out the moon door but it’s a heck of a line. Snow makes Sansa bold, she’s stronger where winter falls.

(4) The northerners are fighting to save The Ned’s little girl, so not sure why this would not also apply to Sansa? The challenge with her is that no one knows where she is or how to get to her. The whereabouts and “identity” of Jeyne Poole are well known.

Sansa was forced to marry, just as Jeyne was. If Sansa and Tyrion returned north, under similar circumstances, it would only be a matter of time until Sansa was made a widow. Not only that, it’s made explicitly clear why northerners are fighting:

"Ned’s girl,” said Morgan Liddle. He was the second of three sons, so the other wolves called him Middle Liddle, though not often in his hearing. It was Morgan who had almost slain Asha in the fight by Deepwood Motte. He had come to her later, on the march, to beg her pardon … for calling her cunt in his battle lust, not for trying to split her head open with an axe.“Ned’s girl,” echoed Big Bucket Wull. “And we should have had her and the castle both if you prancing southron jackanapes didn’t piss your satin breeches at a little snow.”

..and later (in one of my favorite passages in the entire series)…

That seemed to amuse the northman. “I want to live forever in a land where summer lasts a thousand years. I want a castle in the clouds where I can look down over the world. I want to be six-and-twenty again. When I was six-and-twenty I could fight all day and fuck all night. What men want does not matter."Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue.”“Aye!” shouted Morgan Liddle. “Blood and battle!” Then all the hillmen were shouting, banging their cups and drinking horns on the table, filling the king’s tent with the clangor.

-The King’s Prize, aDwD (bold emphasis mine)

What about the above would lead the reader to believe they would not care about Sansa? They are fighting for Ned’s girl and House Stark, they don’t care about a crown or the Iron Throne.

Let’s switch gears to Manderly now:

“The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done. My son is home.”

-Davos IV, aDwD

Manderly got his son back and now he’s honoring his promise, because he remembers. He wants his liege lord back and he’s at Winterfell, making it pretty clear to us, the readers, that his mission is a suicide mission.

Also, let’s not forget the Umbers, they remember as well. Whoresbane is repeatedly described as old. Not only that, the Umber forces are divided so the green boys are with his brother while he has the old men. Whoresbane is planning to turn his cloak and go down fighting, exactly as described earlier.

With all of the above, I’d sooner think Sansa, the girl who is believed to have killed Joffrey, will be welcomed home.

Sansa is a Stark and a Wolf. She’s going home and she’s going home soon. If I’m wrong (and I’m not), I’ll eat my hat.

#Sansa Stark #sansa stark meta #house stark #house stark meta #ASoIaF #asoiaf meta #anon asks #feel free to ask #feel free to ignore #my meta

221 notes · View notes

bts-drabbleverse · 7 years

Text

STRAWBERRY LOVE

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 734

Summary: It’s Seokjin’s birthday and you try to bake him the perfect cake.

You mixed and whisked all afternoon trying to bake the perfect cake for Seokjin. His birthday was tomorrow and you’ve already prepared the perfect date along with the perfect gift. All that was left was the cake. It wasn’t your first time baking but having the best pattiseur in Seoul as your boyfriend didn’t help at all. You feared your obviously inferior skills wouldn’t meet his expectations.

“Maybe I should’ve just bought a cake”

You sighed at what now was your third attempt. The first cake didn’t rise and the second one was too hard. Who knew baking a cake would be this difficult?

“No, (Y/N), you can do this! Third time’s the charm!”

You shook your negative thoughts away while you shoved the mixture into the oven. The cake rose up into a perfect golden color. You took it out and poked the center slightly to test the texture. It didn’t fall flat like the first one nor was it too hard like the second one.

“I did it!” You rejoiced.

Now what remained was to frost it and write his name on top. You chose pink as the main color since you knew that was his favorite. You giggled at how cute he was. The frosting turned out smoother than you expected. You grabbed the piping bag and adjusted the small hole to write Seokjin’s name. As you were writing, your phone rang making you ruin the name.

“Hello?” You answered the abrupt call.

“(Y/N)? Everything alright?” Seokjin noticed your surprised tone.

“Yes, I’m fine!” You reassured him.

“Ok then… I was wondering at what time we should meet tomorrow?”

After deciding when to meet, you hung up to finish the decoration. You frowned at the sight of the ruined name but couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away. It had finally turned out perfect and it would be a waste to just discard it. Suddenly, an idea came to mind and you headed towards the fridge.

***

Dinner was fantastic and he loved the gift you got him. A full set of patisserie uniform in a soft pink color. He was overjoyed.

“Thank you, (Y/N)! I’ll wear this everyday starting tomorrow!”

You blushed at his comment. His smile made your heart flutter uncontrollably.

“Any room for dessert?” He asked.

“Hmm… I would like a red velvet muffin from Kim’s Pastry Shop”

“I believe it’s closed for the day but I’m sure Mr. Kim will make an exception for a lovely lady like you.”

He blew you one of his famous kisses and you couldn’t help but giggle at his adorableness.

You both walked over the bakery while holding hands. The night was chilly but his hand was enough to keep you warm.

“I’m gonna get the utensils.”

That was the perfect excuse to get Seokjin’s cake while he got the muffin from this morning’s batch.

You lit the candle and started to sing happy birthday to him. He was surprised and full of glee. He made a wish and blew out the candle. Then, he looked at the decoration carefully. It made you nervous as he was analyzing the details. You had tried to form a heart using strawberries to cover your little mistake.

“I tried my best but I don’t think it turned out that good”

“Nonsense!” He yelled out as he was taking a bite. “It’s perfect”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes, this is the best cake I’ve ever had. It has the most important ingredient of them all.” He turned to look at you. “Love”

Your cheeks turned red instantly. The words that came out of his mouth were making your heart dance crazily.

“Come here” He whispered.

You stood in front of him and he placed the softest kiss on your forehead making you blush even more.

“Thank you” He said with the sweetest smile.

“I think I’m even redder than the strawberries now” You managed to say.

“But you are my strawberry”

He picked up one of the strawberries and poked it in your mouth. You smiled at him and ate the small red fruit. Then both of you closed your eyes and joined your lips together for a sweet and fruity kiss.

You giggled at each other.

“I liked that kiss” He said.

“Me too” You smiled.

You stared at each other lovingly as the same thought crossed your minds.

It tasted like love.

-Admin Frey 💙

#bts #bts drabble #bts drabbleverse #kim seokjin #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #fluff #bts fluff

9 notes · View notes

fanatic-writers · 8 years

Text

Loki Has A Hair Kink (and Thor Gets A Hammer)

A/n: So remember that idea I posted yesterday? Well, I had time to do it sooner than I thought so here it is. If you want to read the actual myth click here click here (The book I have combines them for some reason) otherwise enjoy! (Note: The book I own isn’t 100% accurate so the myths I tell may be different than the ones I link plus most of these I’m reciting mainly from memory although I look through the book to make sure I have most things right)

So there’s like Sif right? And she apparently she likes herself (Which every woman should), she’s super vain, and has super long long long like really long golden hair. And so Sif is supposed to represent the Earth right? So everyone really likes her hair wish apparently represents grain, I don’t know.

Um, so basically Sif is like that one friend you have, the really popular one that has hair so soft everyone wants to touch it for some reason (like maybe because it’s soft) Basically Loki, I don’t know if he’s jealous of Sif’s hair or something, so he shaves it all off for some reason.

And Thor finds out and is like really fucking mad. Like really fucking mad, like he’s going to kill someone. So Thor is like it has to be Loki because he is the only one that is that much of a dick. Even though they are like besties right now. They are like blood brothers, they are tight.

Thor finds Loki out doing Loki like things. So maybe he’s like lurking in the shadows trying to see Thor’s reaction or something maybe he’s shaving someone else's head (as much as I love the dude he’s kinda messed up ok)

OK so, Thor finds Loki and is basically killing him, hands around his throat, he’s not even sure if it was really Loki at this point but he’s all full of testosterone and is like, you are going to die.

And Loki is all like, whoa, settle down bro, I’ll just make your wife a new set of hair, and it will be better than it was before.

Thor is like, find whatever but you better give her hair soon because she’s butt ugly without it. (Thor is such a fucking dick) (Disclaimer Thor didn’t say this but why would he be this upset about his wife losing her hair)

Loki goes to this place that I don’t know how to spell or say to go talk to some dwarfs because they build things, and that’s all they kinda do because they are pretty much stupid, slightly smarter than Frost Giants but not by much.

And while he is like there talking to the dwarfs saying hey you need to give me the stuff to make Sif’s hair, he’s also making arrangement to make a gift for Odin and Frey, who are also mad at Loki for some unknown reason, but everyone pretty much hates him so it’s really not that much of a surprise. (#relatable)

So the dwarf’s make the hair and this magical spear that will never miss its target (It’s like Hawkeye in spear form) And they also make this ship that is basically the Tardis because you can put a shit ton of stuff in it but it never gets full but it also can fold up and fit into your pocket. (so maybe the dwarfs are smarter than you’d think). Apparently, the ship is also so magical that it can fly too, because why not. (Ok fine the dwarves are smart)

So Loki is really happy, he’s all Thank you for these things because you are great workers but you’re still kind of stupid. And while he’s being all happy for some reason, he hears this dwarf Brock and his brother Sindri say that they can make 3 objects that are way better than the gifts Loki has made for the Gods.

Loki knows that the dwarfs are somewhat competitive, so he accepts the challenge, he’s all you know what go ahead and make all the things so that he’ll have more to give to the Gods and it will make them, even more, happier.

BUT it’s like a wager, so if Loki loses, he loses his head and if Brock loses then Loki gets head. So Brock is making all his stuff and his brother is working the thing so the fire doesn’t go out (THE BELLOWS, that's what they’re called) and Loki, since he knows that Brock is going to win, he turns into a fly that bites people.

So he’s biting Brock, and Brock is just pushing through the pain. And Sindri comes back with this huge Boar because you make that in fire apparently… and it has the power to be a second sun.

Then they go back and Sindri is making things again, and Brock is pumping the bellows. Loki is still a fly, stings Brock on the cheek, and Brock keeps fighting through it because that’s what you do when you get stung by a fly, you fight through it even if it hurts. (Moral of the story guys, don’t give up EVER unless a fly stings you in the eye then give up)

So when Sindri comes back, he has the ring of fertility, which I didn’t know why anyone would want it, but you get one. Then Sindri throws iron into the fire instead of gold which he’s been using the rest of the time.

And Loki who knew he was going to lose in the first place, figures he’s going to die, so he stings Brock in the eyelid... eye? So much so that his face is gushing blood. So Brock is like I got to take a second, I am bleeding here bro, sorry I can’t even see what I’m working on.

Sindri is like I guess we are done I can’t keep working if you are not going to pump the fire and he pulls out this hammer that the handle is too short and he’s really upset because he thinks his brother has screwed them over, but Brock is still like we are going to win either way because we have these things and they are better than what Loki has so we be good.

*Back on Asgard* Loki gives Odin the spear that is like Hawkeye, and gives the ship Tardis thing to Frey, and gives Sif’s new hair to Thor and this hair is now declared more beautiful than Sif’s hair ever was.

(But keep in mind, Loki never gives Sif her real hair back, so maybe he keeps it hidden in his house somewhere, and maybe he just looks at it once in awhile or just touches it because it’s so soft, total hair kink.)

So Brock gives his gifts to the Gods, and he gives the hammer which is Mjolnir to Thor and they decided that Brock wins and Loki loses which no one is surprised about because Loki always loses. (#AlsoRelatable)

So because Brock wins he gets Loki’s head, but Loki is a little shit. So he’s like, you can have my head, we wagered for my head, but you can not touch my neck, that was nowhere in the deal. So Brock is pissed because Loki outsmarted him, but Loki outsmarts everyone so he should have seen it coming.

So in retaliation, she sews Loki’s mouth shut instead of cutting off his head. To which I say, why didn’t he just cut off half his head, or shove a spear through it or something, there are plenty of ways you can kill someone other than just cutting off their head.

But then at the end, Thor being Thor, testing out his new hammer destroys peaceful homesteads just because he can (see I told you he’s a dick)

A/n: I hoped you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed making it. If you want more leave suggestions in our ask box. Requests for fanfics are open so send those in too.! Fell free to just send us messages, we love hearing from you guys! -G

#norse myths #retellings #norse mytholoy #g writes

6 notes · View notes

networkingdefinition · 5 years

Text

Icicles Quotes

Official Website: Icicles Quotes

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

• As in an icicle the agnostic abides alone. The vital principle is taken out of all endeavor for improving himself or bettering hisfellows. All hope in the grand possibilities of life are blasted. – Anna Julia Cooper • Blackened skeleton arms of wood by the wayside pointed upward to the convent, as if the ghosts of former travellers, overwhelmed by the snow, haunted the scene of their distress. Icicle-hung caves and cellars built for refuges from sudden storms, were like so many whispers of the perils of the place; never-resting wreaths and mazes of mist wandered about, hunted by a moaning wind; and snow, the besetting danger of the mountain, against which all its defences were taken, drifted sharply down. – Charles Dickens • Chicharito must have icicles flowing through his veins – Andy Townsend • How to Commit the Perfect Murder” was an old game in heaven. I always chose the icicle: the weapon melts away. – Alice Sebold • I am volatile for one, rigid for another, angular as an icicle in silver, or voluptuous as a candle flame in gold. – Virginia Woolf • I created an icicle sculpture in the snow. White on white. – Mary E. Pearson • I turn and I look back across the lake. The mist is gone and the ice diminished, the drip of the icicles quick and heavy. The sun is up and the sky is blue empty blue light blue clear blue. I would drink the sky if I could drink it, drink it and celebrate it and let it fill me and become me. I am getting better. Empty and clear and light and blue. I am getting better. – James Frey • I’m glad that life isn’t like a Christmas song, because if my friends and I were building a snowman and it suddenly came alive when we put a hat on it, I’d probably freak and stab it to death with an icicle. – Matthew Perry • In a sky of iron the points of the Dipper hung like icicles and Orion flashed his cold fires. – Edith Wharton • In the vast reaches of the dry, cold night, thousands of stars were constantly appearing, and their sparkling icicles, loosened at once, began to slip gradually toward the horizon. – Albert Camus • Just when normal life felt almost possible – when the world held some kind of order, meaning, even loveliness (the prismatic spray of light through an icicle; the stillness of a sunrise), some small thing would go awry and veil of optimism was torn away, the barren world revealed. They learned, somehow, to wait those times out. There was no cure, no answer, no reparation. (161) – David Wroblewski • Life is like invading Russia. A blitz start, massed shakos, plumes dancing like a flustered henhouse; a period of svelte progress recorded in ebullient despatches as the enemy falls back; then the beginning of a long, morale-sapping trudge with rations getting shorter and the first snowflakes upon your face. The enemy burns Moscow and you yield to General January, whose fingernails are very icicles. Bitter retreat. Harrying Cossacks. Eventually you fall beneath a boy-gunner’s grapeshot while crossing some Polish river not even marked on your general’s map. – Julian Barnes • Music comes from an icicle as it melts, to live again as spring water. – Henry Williamson • My father was ruined by hard drink – he sat on an icicle. – Bob Monkhouse • Nervous hands as if the fingers were dripping from them like icicles. – Fannie Hurst • People peep into boxes at moving stereoscopic prints, imagining they’re in other worlds, and the crowd around a glassblower wonders whether icicles have formed in summer. Potted trees revive and suddenly look fresh when a florist sprinkles water on them, while papier-mâché turtles hanging out for sale move in the wind and take on souls. – Haruo Shirane • She watched the sun bleed water out of the icicle. Warm and cold working together to make an icicle. Warm and cold anger working together to make a fury, a fury worthy enough to use as a weapon against the old things that still needed fighting. – Gregory Maguire • The fire of purpose easily melts the icicles of obstacles. – Alan Cohen • the hymns were born in the fifteenth or sixteenth century or earlier, and listening to them was like licking an icicle: the same chill, the same purity. – Mary Cantwell • The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that’s curded by the frost from purest snow. – William Shakespeare • The neck on which diamonds might have worthily sparkled, will look less tempting when the biting winter has hung icicles there for gems. – Samuel Lover • The snow has left the cottage top; The thatch moss grows in brighter green; And eaves in quick succession drop, Where grinning icicles have been, Pit-patting with a pleasant noise In tubs set by the cottage door; While duck and geese, with happy joys, Plunge in the yard pond brimming over. The sun peeps through the window pane: Which children mark with laughing eye, And in the wet street steal again To tell each other spring is night. – John Clare • There’ll be icicles and birthday clothes And sometimes there’ll be sorrow – Joni Mitchell • What is reality? An icicle forming in fire. – Dogen • Where, twisted round the barren oak, The summer vine in beauty clung, And summer winds the stillness broke, The crystal icicle is hung. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow • Winter giveth the fields, and the trees so old, their beards of icicles and snow. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow • You think we stand a chance? (Delphine) Like an icicle on the equator. (Phobos) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You’ve been cold to me so long, I’m crying icicles instead of tears. – Meat Loaf [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

0 notes

equitiesstocks · 5 years

Text

Icicles Quotes

Official Website: Icicles Quotes

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

0 notes

thoughtaftermind-blog · 6 years

Text

Zaida

The first time I thought Mendel Glick, my elter-zaida, would pass away was in the seminary elevator. Mum’s text message was brief: what started as a typical check-up for a ninety-two-year old man turned into a cancer screening. His stomach, hardened from decades of owning a bakery and twice-daily bottles of whisky, was growing a stage four tumor.

He almost-died tens of times before I knew him. That’s what happens when you live through the Holocaust—tales of starvation, gas chambers, frost-biting winters run alongside conversations about challah recipes, pig farmers, and the footie scores.

Everyone rushed to be at the third-floor hospital room, catching lifts, riding the tram, hopping on a bike. Zaida’s room was crowded with his children: my grandfather, the Lubavitcher; Susie, the caterer; Nachama, the phycologist; Miriam, the Gerrer; Nutchy, Zaida’s right hand—even Leslie, the top-order lawyer, had left his offices, still cloaked in the long black robes, the fluorescent lights reflecting off his bald head.

Bubba sat near the bed. She was easy to miss, the only quiet and still one in the room. The loose-knit shawl was falling off her shoulders and the edge was shredding where she kept picking at the yarn. As the siblings spoke and argued and laughed and cried, her fingers twiddled and her eyes locked on Zaida, her partner of sixty years.

They’d met and married in Germany just after the camps were liberated. When Americans freed seventeen-year-old Mendel from the camps, he walked straight out of the iron gates, the shadows of “arbet macht frei” shrinking behind him.

On the streets he passed, smoke rose from piles of rubble. People, lone and alone, backs stooped from the weight of work and death, picked through the pieces. Their blackened faces welcomed sympathy and scared off those who may have some to give.

Each day of the war came with its own easy way to die. Gutt must love me if He let me live, Mendel reminded himself as he wandered. He had nowhere to go. His family gone...their house on the edge of town a smashed pile of tar and hay. It had been a small home, a poor one, filled with hungry children and happy songs. The kids filled their days with games they could play with the muddy sticks and stones from the road. When Shabbos came around, they skipped to the stream to clean their hair and scrub behind their ears. Every time his mammeh was due to birth again, Mendel shifted the rubbish piles for a shoe box to use as a cradle. There wasn’t enough money for cheder, so he learned from the simple stories his father repeated. When the chores were done and Tatteh wasn’t tired, Mendel would sit on the dirt floor near the slatted chair and ask his father to tell the story of Eliezer and Rivkah. It was his favorite one.

The meager life prepared Zaida for the camps. There was no food to be had in Bergen-Belsen; survival meant ignoring the emptiness. On the day that he was liberated, Zaida’s stomach still rumbled. Maybe a kind soul in that building at the corner had a hunk of bread to share. If someone offers me a drink, I’ll offer to marry them, he thought, drawing on Eliezer’s search for Rivkah. His strength the past three years had been imagining the life he would build after the war. He was desperate to create a family so large and so Jewish that the Germans’ failure would be paraded.

The brass handle on the door of the building was covered in soot. Mendel wiped it with his black-and-white striped shirt before turning. The carpet inside withered in dust. The large glass windows were covered in boards that blocked the sunlight; darkness clung to every corner. The flame of a short wax candle flickered and danced on the bottom step of the stairwell, casting a glow on the small area around it. It was the only sign that someone had been through the house recently.

“Anyone there?” Mendel called out, glancing front and back.

A dark-haired girl, our Bubba, stepped down the stairwell. She stopped halfway and leaned over the railing to talk to Zaida. “You look terrible, boy—can I get you a drink?”

Bubba and Zaida married a month after they met in the lobby of the girls’ orphanage. Their first home: a DP camp. Their first child: born in its barracks. Less than a year after the war ended, they were already a family of three. When they crossed to Australia, they were four. In the hospital room years later, they were nine. Grandkids and their babies walked in and out, coming with food, leaving with updates for those overseas. Mum and her siblings called a travel agent to book flights for them to gather around their father in Australia.

“Go home,” the doctors told Zaida when they came for afternoon rounds. “You’ve lived long enough to die quietly.” Their professional opinion was to forgo chemotherapy and live out the time left.

Zaida thought the doctors were right—he should go home. Since the first day of his new life in Australia, he hadn’t missed a day of work—even a child’s wedding didn’t mean he couldn’t work a sunrise shift. First was his job as a delivery man for the bakery, then a cashier, a baker. When he saved enough, he opened his own bakery, the first kosher one in the gold coast. Being ninety-two meant that work slowed, but it hadn’t stopped; it was time to get back to the shop.

I told Basya about Zaida’s diagnosis after I read about it in the elevator up to our tenth-floor dorm room. Israel was just as far from Australia as America was, but in the hills of Tzfat, no one else knew my great-grandfather. It was a pain I couldn’t pass on.

Months later, Basya and I sat at the checkered table in the cheder ochel, picking at piles of soggy vegetables and discussing Shabbat Chafshah plans. “How’s your grandfather, by the way?” The answer—that he was fine and dandy, still working and teasing and catching every minyan—felt like a betrayal of what I’d told her in the jolty elevator. Back then, we thought he was about to go. Apparently he hadn’t been in the mood. Each scan astounded the doctors—this old man had a monster in his belly, and was thriving as though he didn’t. When doctors said two months, Zaida took two years. Gutt must love me if He let me live. He survived hunger and SS guards and forced labor. Cancer wasn’t going to be what killed him.

The next time Zaida almost-died, I didn’t think he would pass away. We’d already run down that path and come back for air. The stoke would just be a day off work. Tomorrow he’d be cracking eggs in the kitchen or bagging someone’s challah. This time we already knew that he was invincible, so Mum didn’t even look at tickets to Australia.

On the second day, Binyamin got off the trolley one stop early so that he could whisper the entire Tehillim in the white room and lay tefillin on Zaida, who hadn't missed a day of either since 1950.

On the third day, someone dipped a cotton ball in whisky and prodded it between Zaida’s lips. No one talked about the alcohol, how he covered his pain in bad, teasing jokes. On his white bed, Zaida became a hurting man, one who reminded himself each day that “Gutt loves me” because if he didn’t, the harrow of his early years would run through him.

On the fourth day, Bubba came to visit. Dementia had clouded her memories and each day she relived a nightmare. Zaida wouldn’t know that his wife didn’t come to his hospital room, and she would be heartbroken to be there. Nechama didn’t agree, “If that were me and Barry, I would want my kids to bring me.” She would forget the hospital visit afterward anyway, she argued. Her daughter Chevy picked Bubba up an hour later.

No one told Bubba why she was there. She sat in her wheelchair near the hospital bed. Her last time with him was the quiet second when she lifted his limp wrist and kissed it. With the gentle silence of a life spent together, she put his hand back on his bed, straightened the blankets to cover him better, and looked to the floor, away from her husband. Chevy paused at the door on their way out, in case Bubba wanted more time, but Bubba had already said her goodbyes. She looked ahead and spoke for the first time during the visit, “please take me home.”

On the fifth day, the teenaged grandkids pulled into the hospital parking lot with a trunk full of sleeping bags, chicken soup, and wine. They were going to spend Shabbos with Zaida at the hospital. Each had their own story to share, the time Zaidy called them his ugly monkey, the days when they worked in his shop after school, how they tried switching his whisky out for water.

On the sixth day, Motzei Shabbos, Nechama was the only one with him. The week ahead would be long; the rest had gone home to clean up from Shabbos and prepare.

“BDE,” she posted on the family chat. No one wrote back.

Mum and I watched the the live hookup of the levaya from her bed. For us in America, it was still Motzei Shabbos, just minutes after we turned on our phones and realized he was gone.

Nutchy’s white knuckles gripped the podium when he quoted on of the few things Zaida ever said: “A man has two names—the one he is given and the one he makes for himself.”

On the ship’s manifesto, Zaida’s young family is listed as Mendel, Sarah, Avraham, and Suzie Unglick, the unlucky ones. When he walked off the ramp with a brown suitcase in hand, he introduced himself to the port staff as “Mr. Glick.”

Zaida made the choice to live the life of Mr. Glick every day—when he shivered on his wooden bunk at the camps, when he walked the blackened streets looking for a wife, when he left the hospital with cancer cells attacking his body, when he fought the terrorized dreams of the war with his glass of whisky each morning.

His life floated through the sunlight in that white hospital room—G-d, his wife, sons and daughters, tefillah, talks of the Mr. Glick’s Bake Shoppe, and the whisky that gave him permission to create a unpained reality. Gutt most love me if He let me live. His soul moved higher on the breaths of his name and what it took to create it continued on.

0 notes