RMH
Origami Around
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Peter Solarz
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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Love Begins
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
AnasAbdin
will byers stan first human second
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Janaina Medeiros
noise dept.
YOU ARE THE REASON
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Xuebing Du
taylor price
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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JBB: An Artblog!
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@zmeydeva-arch
i lead you out into the darkness, 𝗶 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 . . . ⊹ a selective and private blog for a fantasy & folklore-based zoya nazyalenskaya completely detached from the grishaverse fandom * ( HEADCANON & ALTERNATE UNIVERSE HEAVY
⊹ ˖⁺ ¹· carrd / ²· pinterest / ³· memes
AN EXPLORATION INTO . . . the figure & myth of the witch, monstrous maidens, the theory of abjection, love & desire as hunger, nurturing grief, & the wickedness found in the divine
𓂃₊☁︎ ⊹ I AM THE SUN & MOON, FOREVER CRAVING ! a non-canon & folklore-based portrayal of zoya nazyalenskaya ━ exalted by corazón THE SHARPENED EDGE WHERE DAY & NIGHT SHALL MEET BUT NOT BE ONE
hehe i've moved!! @godwitch
hehe i've moved!! @godwitch
hehe i've moved!! @godwitch
hehe i've moved!! @godwitch
hehe i've moved!! @godwitch
hehe i've moved!! @godwitch
before i flee this blog what should be the new url?
keep zmeydeva
godwitch
windwitch
drakontsar
drakoncrown
dvaburya
go back to dvaurga
before i flee this blog what should be the new url?
keep zmeydeva
godwitch
windwitch
drakontsar
drakoncrown
dvaburya
go back to dvaurga
idk lads i might put zoya on a bit of a hiatus i am just having a lot of trouble getting motivated to write over here and i don't really want to force it. i'll probably move blogs rather than return to this space but i'll drop the url here before i archive for good. in the meantime you can find me over on my multi
you know what... this verse was kind of a serve and i think zoya should also be allowed to be a cult leader once she dragons out on the jl:d you feel me?
hello my loves! gonna try to be here later on in the day after i run some errands since i won't be around much once monday hits <3
i haven’t cursed anyone in years . ( @ aragorn lolll )
THE RANGER STANDS NEARLY MOTIONLESS BEFORE HER, EXPERIENCED HAND BALANCED CAREFULLY ON THE POMMEL OF HIS LONGSWORD. something about her very presence seems to bring the forest to its knees ; even the birds in the trees have gone strangely silent and aragorn cannot decipher whether it's meant as a sign of respect or fear. he, too, holds his breath along with the woods, along with the world. the hunter in him requires but a moment to know that he stands in the presence of a great and terrible power, one that he may be unable to contend with. with every fell step comes an opportunity to prove wrong the prophecies passed down the lineage he never asked for. estel, they'd called him in the house of elrond. hope. but such power - such ancient magic - as is contained in her very aura would likely pay no mind to the burden of purpose.
there is a fatigue that accompanies purpose, even in the practice of avoiding it, a practice in which strider has engaged for years of his improbably long life. since childhood, the same questions have haunted him : what makes a king? is it strictly the misfortune of one's lineage? can any man rule a kingdom by name alone? what wisdom is there in that? or shall kings be crowned by deed? and if so, by what measure could aragorn, son of arathorn, even be found worthy? in the wilds, it matters not ; the remaining vestiges of the dúnedain care far more for the novelty of survival than the reunification of arnor to its southern brother. here in the wilds, he is as much lone wolf as he is chieftain, as near to a beast as any king. truth be told, he prefers it that way. always, a voice in his ear reminds him that he cannot outrun time - but even so, he disguises himself, leans into monikers as others offer them, omits the truth of his birth as often as he can manage.
❝ how many years, I wonder? ❞ he answers cautiously, chin tilted upward as he surveys her, wondering if his eyes betray him or if the air around her truly shimmers. stories and warnings plague these woods, superstitions which have become commonplace in such areas of the world. ( even he himself must be the subject of one or two by now. ) if she is in fact a creature to ignite such fear in the common folk, then surely there is sense in hiding away here. but what makes a witch? is it much the same as being deemed a king? ❝ enough to make any difference to you? even to me? ❞ the ranger tilts his head just slightly, examining her far more with curiosity than fear. ❝ what brings you so far into the wilds, my lady? ❞ are you hunted, or are you the hunter?
SUCH IS THE ETERNAL DUSK OF THE ELDER WOOD. the trees so ancient they have grown tongues and learned to speak, round trucks wide with the vastness of knowledge. then there is the witch that walks among them similar language she speaks into leaves and whispers to the rain. THE DRAGON'S MOUTH, MAY ONE BE BLESSED WITH HER WORDS AND NOT HER FIRE. a terror of blue, a shift of silver through the foliage. she could very well will her steps silent but she begs the prey to know of her arrival. a reward? or perhaps a punishment for straying this far into the unknown. the unnamed king trespasses with a soft-footed gait, the precarious nature of his current position not lost upon him. remaining in the half-shade of her hood she glances up through the brim of silken fabric.
❛ do you often ask strange women their ages in place of an introduction? ❜ she could admire the display in resolve. most would have seen the vague curvature of horns beneath her dressing and been quick to plant an arrow between her ribs ( they would later find that scales had more fortitude than any armor ) still to linger in her presence was to taunt fate. THE LEGENDS HAD THEIR INKLINGS OF TRUTH; WHY ELSE HAVE YOU COME? not simply to test one's mettle there were simpler ways to make that particular kind of spectacle. another precarious step is taken forward , the birds overhead sing their warning song ━ a tune she watches with a contemplative hum ( do you wish for death or glory, stranger? you will find only one here ) there are bones beneath their feet and there is an eerie resounding sundering with the shifting of her posture. many have fallen on these grounds for less when she was younger and more keen of a foe. there was nothing more to prove, his presence was proof enough.
❛ ah, a curious man, in these woods such a taste for mystery is unwise. you have come upon me... that may or may not speak to your lack of cunning. ❜ she can use wit in place of teeth today. this is an intimidation that sits somewhere between a mockery and a flirtation ringed by fangs. he has made it this far, he may as well lay eyes on the monster who had claimed the souls they had trodden over. when the pale hood is pulled back a luminous face is revealed unto the evening. a beauty marred by the grotesque, framed by shards black glittering by her brow and down her neck. the horns are less imposing when nestled in the dark cascade of onyx hair although the overall portrait of her is one of the preternatural. ❛ if we are being frank here it should be me asking you of your intentions. i am the lady of this forest but to some i am also its creature. ❜
naushin for irma universo shot by joaquin castillo ⋆
the soft animal of my body loves violence and destruction. sorry
this close he can see the finer details of her make up. it was articulate and careful in every which way she was blue. whether on court or off court he knew she seldom let a piece of her sit or go without her word on how it should look; this was part of the control that seemed belligerent and unpredictable to others, but manifested like an entirely different entity on the ice. it was the same thing, the same face and name, yet it looked so different from the other — a stray voice echoes from his right ear and reminds him of what this was: she changed the angle in the mirror, and you're looking.
❛❛ mouth level, ❜❜ he corrected her admonishment, and looked up from her legs to see if he'd catch her smiling; and despite the better half of her face that seemed to remember he was still a boy, kenneth was entirely unapologetic for having been caught in the act. he half-shrugged despite their nearness, the spacious puffs of his jacket jostling as he did so. ❛❛ who knows, maybe i was. or maybe i just felt bad for the other person, ❜❜ which was unlikely, she would know, since kenneth only seem to hold gentle animals in high regard rather than humans. ❛❛ they'd feel like shit knowing you're coming home to me. ❜❜
at this his immobility flickers with purpose, the barest hint of a grin while her deft hands seal his skates with a perfect knot. he felt the soft trek of her hands against his ankle, and then it was gone too soon leaving him with a phantom sort of ache. ❛❛ so we're both nosy. i guess we'll see about that. ❜❜ this makeshift deal was following by a stamp: his hand falling into her own where it was offered, as he made to stand with more trust in her palms than his own shoes. ❛❛ not making friends with the floor … ❜❜ he studied this uncertainty with a suspicious eye, but managed to stand as if he'd merely gone on the tips of his toes. it was awkward, which he supposed she enjoyed, and it meant their fingers were entwined tightly, which he enjoyed.
the rink was far less fun by the time they had stepped onto the ice, at which point she was in her domain and he trusted absolutely nothing. the floor was landslide beneath him, his grip unrelenting, and it didn't take a psychic to chance that he would fall soon. ❛❛ well fuck off. ❜❜
ATHLETICS WERE AS MUCH ABOUT SPECTACLE AS THEY WERE SPORT. it had been true of figure skating and it was true of exy even if the uniforms came with significantly less sequined flare. life through the camera lens, life filtered through the instagram grid; the routine of fastidious curation. I CANNOT STOP IT, BEING PRIMED TO BE AN ARTIFACT OF MYSELF. it is not all untrue she likes the glitter on her face the silver sheen of highlight dashed across cheek bones. it just seems more real by moonlight, more real when only one person was witnessing it.
❛ really? i think they probably just feel bad for me knowing how high maintenance you are. ❜ they aren't scandalized by one another, they never truly are. every rumor imaginable had been penned in the papers; but isn't reality stranger than fiction? like this night on the rink, a space out of time completely. ❛ although i gotta hand it to you ━ you're pretty good at hiding how needy you can be. ❜ he may have the vantage point over the striker but she has him vulnerable before releasing his ankle ( again, she didn't have to do any of this but she doesn't think twice about it ) she doesn't think about it, when his hand is clasped in hers. she doesn't about it, when his grip tightens the second they leave solid ground.
❛ i like curious better than nosy. ❜ she nearly leaves him there clinging to the dasher board. the ease of her glide interrupted by the wobble of his own. hissing out swear, she had to choke down on the laugh rising in her throat to keep her double from getting too discouraged. their fingers stay adjoined as she positions himself in front of him to take his other hand. ❛ eyes on me, if you keep looking down at the ice you're going to end up there. ❜ he stumbled forward and she slides back to accommodate him, the beginning of a graceless dance. ❛ keep your weight centered... ❜ there we go, no falling head over toes. she keeps this stride in reverse and ken's shuffle forward towards her. each careful line she draws in the ice with each blade is crossed out immediately by his jagged steps.
a small win, it was movement though they remained close to the rink exterior in case he needed to grab something that wasn't his teammate. ❛ good... now i'm going to let go ━ ❜ the protest is immediate, his nails dig heavily into her palms and she can feel the bite of them through her gloves. instead of flinching she finally laughs, unable to keep the professional air of a dutiful instructor. ❛ kidding! i said i wouldn't let you fall. ❜
