my history professor told me today that he “likes the way I look vaguely pissed off” during class
( Bela Talbot - Supernatural )
Cosima with a head full of Tatiana curls.
Cosima with various little braids that she’d put in when she was bored or lost in thought.
Cosima twirling a ringlet around her finger whilst trying to chat up the cute waitress at the café.
Lagertha's career as a warrior began when Frø, king of Sweden, invaded Norway and killed the Norwegian king Siward. Frø put the women of the dead king's family into a brothel for public humiliation. Hearing of this, Ragnar Lodbrok came with an army to avenge his grandfather Siward. Many of the women Frø had ordered abused dressed themselves in men's clothing and fought on Ragnar's side. Chief among them, and key to Ragnar's victory, was Lagertha. Saxo recounts:
"Ladgerda, a skilled Amazon, who, though a maiden, had the courage of a man, and fought in front among the bravest with her hair loose over her shoulders. All-marveled at her matchless deeds, for her locks flying down her back betrayed that she was a woman." x
Nearby is Valhalla, vast and gold-bright. And every day, Odin chooses slain men to join him. They arm themselves and fight in the courtyard. They kill one another, but every night they rise again and ride back to the hall, and feast. The roof is made out of shields. The rafters are spears. Coats of mail litter the benches. A wolf stands at the western door and an eagle hovers above it. It has five hundred and forty doors, and when Ragnarok comes, eight hundred warriors will march out of each door, shoulder to shoulder.
this is my life among sprites and dryads;
the moon is my sun and i bring death
longing, mournful, silent death
by beauty, by kisses, a fairy tale nightmare
in pale light and cold water
a destiny i never chose, without a choice
i long for love;
true love, human love
oh moon, oh stars, my wind and water
i weep, i bleed inside, myself a sprite
no way out, no true love, my wishes,
i kill men, lure them to me
my nature, my power so cold and my tears.
i cannot sing, i cannot speak, cannot say
what you mean to me. my hope
that what you see could be enough, and yet
my bones are cold, a chill in me, you do not know;
a life i try to escape without a chance,
but fate and my true love for you
can only end with you, with me, in the lake.
the homeric hymn to athena
of pallas athena, guardian of the city, i begin to sing. dread is she, and with ares she loves the deeds of war, the sack of cities and the shouting and the battle. it is she who saves the people as they go to war and come back. hail, goddess, and give us good fortune and happiness!