#sacrifice of odin

[gifts-of-heimdall-runes]

Norse Gods: Discovering a Cult of Odin

Original Image: 'Odin' by Djvenom45 [DeviantArt] [slightly edited!]

Posted: 28th June 2023

[finngualart]

some drawings i did for funsies and for practise based on these photos

[tyrannuspitch]

so i was watching TDW last night and i have decided that there is actually a subtle but distinctive empire-as-consumption motif going on. (parasitism, predation, cannibalism, vampirism... but whatever form it takes, people are getting eaten!)

odin compares jane to a goat at a banquet table. and the dissonance there is not merely that a goat can't share the feast - it's that a goat should be PART of the feast. odin is not just calling jane an animal here. consciously or not, he's calling her prey.

odin declares his intention to fight "to the last drop of asgardian blood". by forcing other people to take part in his own quest for vengeance (and perhaps a glorious death of his own), he a) treats them as mere extensions of himself and b) destroys them for his own benefit. which is also how eating works. you take something into yourself and make it disappear.

two major power sources (the aether and the kursed) are both presented as parasitic forces that will ultimately consume their wielder.

two of the dark elves' weapons (the aether and their antimatter(?) bombs) seem to work by annihilating or "consuming" the enemy.

algrim/kurse/the kursed often kills people with weapons... but there are also times when he kills people with his bare hands. he just grabs them, and they turn grey and shrivel up, suddenly looking like they've been dead for centuries. it's as if he's draining their life force.

and i think that's why loki, too, turns grey when he dies. because asgard has consumed him!

like. not to mix my cannibal metaphors, but asgard swallowed loki (adoption, erasure of identity, general lack of agency). drained him dry (abuse and exploitation to breaking point). and spat him out (abandonment when he was no longer useful). he was a tool and he was food, the kind of food that empires run on.

[almoststedytimetravel]

Y'know, it's kinda been bugging me that Odin is part of the Emperor Arcana (in fact, I think he's consistently the ultimate form of the Emperor across the Newsona games) despite the fact that the Hanged Man is Odin.

[sarenth]

Day Six of Nine Days of Devotionals for Oðinn

Inspired by Cat Heath who spoke about nine days of devotional work for Oðinn until 9/9, I decided to take this up. It has been a long time since I have done a set number of days making devotionals, and this seemed a good time to start. The World was born in blood Spilled from Your Ancestor’s heart Carved from Your Ancestor’s flesh The World was born in blood Sacrifice made for a new…

[fauna-a]

III The Hanged Man

¡Norse AU! Inspired by American Gods and also by Heroes of the Valley. Let’s say that I’ve interpreted this prompt quite literally.

Caith looked at him, upright and pliable like an ash branch, but in here eyes could be read the doubt. Fear, maybe.

Njall had never seen her frightened, not when their village was burning and they were just five or six years, not when the warrior chief had struck her with a backhanded slap because she had stolen a blade and not, when he, Njall, had shown her what he could do with a handful of signs scribbled in the dust. Caith had not been frightened even when the creatures had appeared the first time and had started to kill. She was never frightened.

«It’s madness» she pontificated, her knuckles holding on the rope. «You are not Odin. You’ll die».

«We are all going to die» Njall retorted tersely. «You know it. If we stay here and do nothing, they’ll kill us all. We don’t know what they are, your arrows don’t hurt them, nor the fire».

«And your suicide will solve this, oh sure!»

«I am not killing myself» Njall stressed those words with all the confidence he had. «It’s a ritual, and you know it very well. A way to gain knowledge. And I am not the first one: that ancient mage tried and-»

«And he died!»

«Not because of the ritual!» Njall exhaled. «Look, if you are here it means you want to help me. Don’t you?»

Caith stared at him harshly. Just above her eye there was a little scar that cut vertically her eyebrow; it came from a shove by Njall when they were children. Caith had fallen with her face on the ground and had hit a rock hidden in the grass. They both had cried, that time, Caith because of the pain and Njall because of the fear.

«Fine» Caith straightened her shoulders. «Take off the tunic and let’s start».

The worst part, Njall presumed, was the beginning, as it was for all the things: getting used to the position, the blood running to the head, the air coming more and more laboriously, the rope sawing his skin. Caith, of course, had made perfect knots and had not left him any escape. In that position, Njall could only see her legs, moving nervously back and forth. Then they stopped and suddenly Caith’s face appeared near to his.

«Well, hung you’re hung. I’ll come and check-»

«No! You can’t come here during the ritual, Caith! I must be alone».

Even upside down, Njall saw perfectly the terrible scowl appear on Caith’s forehead.

«And you’re asking me to leave you like this… and alone for nine days? Do you realize what you’re asking to me?»

«I do. It’s a necessary sacrifice to gain knowledge. And the gods’ grace». Njall hesitated. «If you are my friend… If you are my friend, you’ll understand».

Caith’s eyes tightened, then her face disappeared abruptly from Njall’s vision.

«Goodbye, then. I’ll be back in nine days».

During the following hours, Njall tried to focus on something else, for example all the spells and chants he knew, the runes, the symbols; then he tried to not take offense for Caith’s coldness and to not regret sending her away: she was like this, and the ritual had to be done like this too, there wasn’t much to do about it.

The tree Njall had chosen had grown under a cavern, all twisted up to find the few rays of sunlight that filtered from above; so, Njall was quite protected, but it was impossible to know how long had passed. Maybe he fell asleep (or better, lost consciousness) despite the pain, because at some point it was pitch black and cold. He felt like someone had set fire to every single tendon and he gasped like a fish outside water.

He tried to convince himself that this was the hardest part.

After immeasurable time spent trying to cut himself from his own body, wondering why he had decided to do it, Njall gave up: he started to think about Caith.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his village and the people; but he couldn’t deny that she was the first reason. Caith was a warrior: she had already fought with those creatures, using blade and arrows and it was just a matter of time before a night ended bad. They were monsters emerged by their nightmares, unstoppable. And hungry for human flesh.

He wondered if Caith knew.

He had his lips completely dry and split, and it seemed like he had no more blood in his veins. He wondered how he could still be lucid.

Any pain was gone, his body was in peace. Maybe he didn’t have a body anymore. It was a relief, anyway.

So Caith was right: he was dead.

«Well, I wouldn’t say» said a voice.

Njall said naked feet drawing near him. Funny, he didn’t feel his body anymore and yet his downturned vision was the same as before.

«You’re not dead at all» went on the voice. «But the nine days are gone, little mage».

«Who are you?» Njall was amazed to hear his voice firm: he would have expected it to be broken, weakened by pain, hunger, thirst.

«Who am I? Haven’t you sacrificed yourself for something? For the gods? I am here. I have seen your sacrifice and I’ve accepted it».

A face appeared above his: it was the same colour as terracotta, all resolute dark eyebrows and sharp features.

«Are you ready?»

Njall didn’t have time to ask for what: suddenly he was on the ground, free from the ropes, and it was as if every pain, every sorrow came back all together.

He started to shiver uncontrollably, coughed, tried to get up and collapsed again.

«Now stay calm» said the voice. «Your friend is coming».

Hesitant steps. «Njall? It’s not possible…»

In a moment, Caith was beside him, putting on his shoulder a cloak, wetting his lips, holding him to warm him. Njall tried to croak out something.

«Very sweet, nothing to say».

Caith turned suddenly, still holding Njall. He tried to figure out who the third person was. He saw that he was young, and grinning. Sunlight shone on the jewels his hair was braided with, tied at his ankles and wrists.

«It has been a long time since I saw someone so pig-headed, you know» his grin widened even more and Njall, even if he was exhausted, worn out, thirsty, felt a vague surge of danger.

«What did you do?» whispered Caith, and, addressing the naked-feet youth «Who are you?»

«The one who accepted his sacrifice» squatted down like this, he seemed a young wolf ready to attack. «I have many names. You call me Loki».

[randomnerd737]

mmmmmm Norse mythology

[magnusmodig]

rough childhood headcanon qs / anonymous / accepting !

╰┈➤ 6 . what was the worst / most traumatic moment in their childhood?

||. Oh, I am sure that there are multiple that Thor can recount (if he ever bothered to) and the list could fill up a very long and detailed tome. But were I to try and summarize most of them, I would end up with one word: Gungnir.

Disagreed with something your father said? Gungnir. Went against the grain because you felt it better to do things your own way? Gungnir. Have the gall to talk back (regardless of whether your point was valid or just genuine childish disrespect)? Gungnir. Make a mistake? Bound to get scolded? You've spoken out of turn? Gungnir. Dare to defy Odin and you will hear the sound of urdu thudding against the ground, because very likely you aren't talking to your father at all. You're talking to the All-Father, and he is not a very patient manner of beast.

And I would imagine that Thor, being the temperamental, strong-willed, passionate individual that he is (not to mention a perfectly bright and excitable creature as a child, the lovely lamb) wouldn't have known the difference at first. How would he have? His father was his hero. He answered a great many questions and told the history of his father and fore-father. He took Thor's hand in his and squeezed it tight, and showed him the great treasures of Asgard and the spoils of its righteous conquests as heroes of the Great Wars. ...So how was Thor to know the difference between the father who held his hands and spoke with a fond twinkle in his eye, and the All-Father who spoke with authority heavy in his tone and the slam of urdu on the ground? So Thor would speak up as any child might, interrupting and asking questions and never exactly listening, because Thor has his own thoughts and opinions and he would very much like to share them all. And father would listen, but the All-Father does not. And Thor would argue and debate and counter when he feels something unjust, unfair or otherwise downright vexing for a little one who knows no better about the world than that which consists of himself and his brother and his parents, and maybe sometimes he was eloquent enough to earn an impressed hum or a begrudging acquiescence — if he was debating with his father, at any rate.

Thor was oh-so very often not speaking to his father at all.

And it was very much his own mistake for not catching on to the difference.

But at some point, Thor learned better. Fight back, but maybe not so blatantly out of line. Defend your point and speak your mind, but beware of the All-Father's command. Do what's right, but in the shadow of rebellion ; keep your head down, and your eyes lower, as you slip around the politics of the rulings – for rules are made to be broken , after all. Most of all: when Gungnir sounds, bite your tongue and hold your breath.

You will speak when spoken to or you will not speak at all.

[alephskoteinos]

I think the way Don Webb discusses sovereignty has some use, but then when it comes to the outer world I really don't care about the whole angle where it's centered around practical rationality, and self-love defined by this. I prefer to center the "magical secret" it hinges on. He says "the sacrifice of self to self is a magical secret". I agree, and I think it's this that should be centered more. There you find what was in deepest sense conveyed by the Norse or Germanic stories of Odin, deeper than the calculations of reason.

[ratmustards]

Little Odin

[tyrannuspitch]

cannot believe i've never made this connection before. BUT.

"there's always a purpose to everything your father does" = odin won't really let thor die, it's just manipulation

"no, you took me for a purpose - what was it?" = odin won't really let loki LIVE, it's all always just been manipulation

i mean this in a slightly non-literal sense. like it's about loki's emotions and/or Thematic Implications rather than what odin himself consciously thinks he intends. but still. goddd

[gaymakima]

rosebird stocks paid off now its time to invest in "raven was a double agent spying on salem for ozpin which led to her both a) knowing first hand what salem is capable of and b) unwilling involvement in whatever came of summer" stocks

[bisexualalienss]

everyone always is like “n*il ga*man is great at twists” and i’m was like okay. i’ll keep that in mind while reading american gods. he can’t fool me. and then he fooled me

[muspelheim71]

At the sacrificial site near Ootmarsum, The Netherlands. Hail Wodan!

[firstpersonnarrator]

TUA Tarot: The Hanged Man

If you’ve ever wondered what the Hanged Man is all about, Luther is a fantastic poster child for this Major Arcana Card (#12).

First, he’s willing to sacrifice himself, so he can die with his lady love on their own terms. But the key here is that it is a willing sacrifice. A perfect illustration of the concept is the Norse God Odin. He hung upside-down from the World Tree and sacrificed one eye, in exchange for the gift of runes. So if you have ever given up something for a larger purpose, for someone else, or for a greater goal, you’ve lived the Hanged Man card.

People usually think the imagery on this card is of an upside-down crucifixion, a la Saint Peter — but with black-magic-satan-worshippy connotations. On the contrary, it is an image of suspended animation. Hanging upside down like that, you aren’t going anywhere. It is an intentional time out, with an outcome that can be expected to have been worth the trials, tribulations, and/or waiting in boredom. Snow White in her glass coffin. Or a hunger strike. Five in the Apocalypse — the first apocalypse. There is expected to be a payoff for all that waiting in the end.

Dead Luther in the Void is another perfect representation of suspended animation. He’s stuck there. Until he walks out of the elevator at the end, renewed.

[skaldish]

When Odin drank from Mimir's well, he had to sacrifice an eye in order to do so.

A lot of people interpret this as "sacrifice is a value of the Norse people" but I think it's actually an allegory for a practical experience we all go through.

The waters of Mimir's well is wisdom. But in order for us to gain wisdom, we have to let go of how we currently see the world. This is neccessary for growth. In sacrificing his eye, Odin wasn't sacrificing his vision, but rather his way of looking at the world.

The reason why he only sacrifices one eye though is also part of the allegory: He still needs the ability to see things the way he used to, because wisdom is found not in looking at things exclusively from the new perspective, but in understanding the space between the old perspective and the new, and how it is bridged.

If Odin had given up both eyes he would be just as ignorant as before; there's no wisdom to be gained from obliterating your old viewpoint. (Plus, doing this would have been a self-wounding, rather than a sacrifice.)