valsyr

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what are y’all using 2 make ur rule pages now aday.... is it docs or r we still on carrd....

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sorry i dipped ! but i took my last final yesterday so i am once again here hehe

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That bicycle kick ….

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DEATHLESS.

the following prompts were taken from the novel deathless by catherynne m. valente, an american novelist & poet. the novel was loosely based on the tale of koschei the deathless, incorporating other elements of russian mythology, & setting it against the backdrop of the russian revolution. feel free to change the pronouns / prompts as you see fit, but be warned – below the cut, it’s quite long !

❛ the service of your body is not yours to give as you please. ❜

❛ you probably won’t survive. ❜

❛ go. run. don’t look behind you. ❜

❛ i have come for the girl in the window. ❜

❛ i will never be without information. ❜

❛ i will see him with his skin off before i fall in love. ❜

❛ if the world is divided into seeing & not seeing, i will always choose to see. ❜

❛ secrets are jealous things, permitting no fraternization. ❜

❛ no, it’s not like that, when magic comes. ❜

❛ magic does that. it wastes you away. once it grips you by the ear, the world gets quieter & quieter until you can hardly hear it at all. ❜

❛ the sight of it bruised my heart so that i cannot think about anything else. ❜

❛ i’ll be so quiet, i’ll never talk again. ❜

❛ keep me & obey me, for i am your husband, & i can destroy you. ❜

❛ i shall be clever, & i shall not let him go. ❜

❛ it is a new world, & we do not wish to be left behind. ❜

Keep reading

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“Witches, with hearts like a wild song,”

— Charles Guérin, tr. by David Paley, from Poems; “The Bridal Night,”

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@glorykill​ said:  ❝ it seems the gods have been especially cruel to you. ❞ 

                             ❝    𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.    𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.    ❞      she stokes the hearth.    turning over the eviscerate bloodbeat of embers erratically paling      &.      deepening like the frantic respiration of a wounded beast trembling in its den      &.      the profound desperation of its shallowing breath.      the chord once taut cut red.      eyes pulsing in dull glass bells.      outside fields lie black where companies of lesser auxiliaries trudged in snow circled      &.      wheeled a myriad phantoms in the cold moonlight      &.      the pale smoke of their breath clove through the implacable dark with wintry blades of white as she traipses the room in the warm sawing light of the fire,    strides across the sprawling urne tapestry with such haste that would leave the hanging plants swaying from their hewn beams in her passing.      ❝    i take the sentiment is not unfamiliar to you.      the gods of these realms are no kinder.      ❞

                             ❝    be grateful if they have not disturbed you yet.      it’s not because they haven’t noticed.   ❞

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Inbox call !!

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so,  i caved.   @autridi

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“she was our friend”   /  “i am not here for debts.  i would always have helped you”   /   “no need to explain.  not to me.  not for that”

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𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙼 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂.

repost  ,  don’t  reblog  .

ROMANCE.       love poems. flickering candles. conversations in the meadow. roses. midnight meetings. silk dresses. long phone calls. spilling your heart out. curtains blowing in the breeze. cheap paperbacks. the sun’s reflection on the water. smooth jazz. waiting for something to happen. blushing cheeks. kisses in the rain. faded polaroids. noses bumping. floral perfume. a restless spirit. oil paintings on canvas. hiding under an awning during a thunderstorm. candlelit dinners. horse drawn carriages. sunset views. smeared lipstick.

ACTION.       streetlights reflected on rainy pavements. a phone alarm. rapid texting. the smell of smoke. aggression. the natural instinct to fight. dramatic reunions. distant gunfire. funerals in the rain. the coppery scent of blood. solitude. fierce protective instincts. doomed to fail. driving too fast. near death experiences. inner turmoil. running through crowds. expensive watches. tired eyes. overnight plane rides. cold cups of coffee. dangerous secrets. lying through your teeth. bullet holes.

HORROR.       a distant farmhouse. congealed blood on the hardwood. ice picks. tilted headstones. bare feet on the carpet. splintering wood. masks that hide who you really are underneath. quiet summer camps. ghost stories. locked rooms. sharp knives. a full moon. the scent of rust. grasping hands searching for something to hold. last minute decisions. bags under your eyes. a cross hung on the wall. crawling maggots. the carcass of a dead animal. an abandoned hotel. blood-soaked clothes. broken bones. the sound of glass shattering.

ADVENTURE.      gnarled rope between your fingers as you hold on for dear life. glittering gold in a dark room. snakes. an incoming sandstorm. the consequences of your actions. hidden secrets. an unopened door. a leap of faith. squeezing your best friend’s hand. shelves of dusty books. ancient curses. the smell of fire. crumbling buildings. complicated puzzles. mystery novels. footsteps echoing in a large room. smudged lenses on glasses. warm skin. doing what’s right. dirt under your fingernails. scribbled notes. cobwebs blocking your path.

COMEDY.       friends you’ve known for years. crowded comedy clubs. crescent moons. open mics. out of tune pianos. a messy desk. leather messenger bags. stacks of papers. huge sweaters. bitten nails. ordering takeout every night. dog-eared pages. unmade beds. hand movements and broad gestures. the smell of the subway. colorful graffiti on brick buildings. big dreams. enthusiastic phone calls. rejection letters. the heat of stage lights. pulling pranks. restless sleep. cold showers. laughing until you’re crying. half-finished ideas. tiny apartments. velvet curtains. cheap alcohol.

tagged by: @jokethur (ty !!)  tagging: @zmeydeva , @frigase , @cldhrbour , @laufaye , @glorykill !

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godmake​:

@valsyr​ .

“ oh,   um,   hey;  freya. “

he hesitates for a moment,    digits playing with the collar of his jacket where his   necklace   once hung.    he’s glad she’s here,   glad she’s finally back to being their ally.   but he remembers the night he tracked her down,   and recalls the pain and betrayal in her voice as they spoke.   but he sucks in a deep breath  :    he needs her to know this.   “ …   i,  um,   it’s good to see you again.   it’s just   …   i meant what i said before.   y’ know,   back in midgar?    i’m    —    i’m sorry.    about your son. “  he continues to fidget and chances a glance in her direction,  sucking in one more breath for good measure.   

“ i think   …    i’m starting to understand it more.     like,   what a parent feels for their child.   father was telling me about it and,  well   … “    a grimace.    he vividly remembers the way in which he swore he’d die for him ten times over if it ensured his safety.  and the pang of guilt he felt,   for never truly understanding his father’s love for him.   “ i just;   i’m sorry.   no one should have to go through losing their son.   but that’s why odin has to pay!   because he’ll just do it again and again to other families. “

          𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖 painting murky vignettes of the room on the polished floors.      the silhouette of her figure as she hangs primrose      &.      bedstraw to dry along an array of other handpicked herbs,     the tombed plants metamorphosed into dyscrasic geometric shapes stark black on marble      &.      atreus’ shadow cleaved in two by the shadow of the table between them .       his voice sounds meek when he calls her.        he looks tucked at the alcove’s threshold or she imagines it in the way he stumbles aimlessly through the comb of his words       &.       absconds glances in her direction like her gaze might turn him to stone.      ❝    you were never to blame,     atreus.    ❞

          when she finishes she turns to him.       he looks older,     now .       in those three years she had not taken the time to notice but in his eyes was the selfsame child bright with wonder      &.      youth.       maybe more,     growing into his own person.       meandering the ceaseless paths open to him .       ( she hopes there is one that is kinder to him than it has been for her,     for his father.  )      ❝    why dont …      why dont you help me with this ?    ❞      she motions to the table hastily strewn about with clipped stems.      ❝    it’s easy work.      might put your mind at ease.      might help you think.    ❞

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freya is at least 6′ ,  i’d say ...

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so,  i caved.   @autridi

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GOD OF WAR RAGNARÖK (2022) dev. Santa Monica Studio

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           𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇  𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍  𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄  turns  the  eyne  magmatic    —    an  archaic  flame  twisting    &.    righting  in  amber  irises,      in  a  sombre  reflection  of  their  reverence    —      &.    casts  a  piceous  silhouette  across  the  floor.      warm  light  gavottes  in  whisks  around  the  darkened  shadow  fanning  shapes  on  the  table,    lapsing      &.      flaring  to  where  her  fingertips  rest  upon  the  cedar.      she  drew  her  gaze  from  him,    ceding  to  look  at  her  hands,    the  sprawling  ink  from  her  wrists.      ❝    so  it  seems  that  there  is.    ❞

          she  stood,    rounding  the  table  to  the  alcove  sindri  stored  his  cookingwares.    she  draws  a  trivet,    a  steel  pipkin  with  water,    small  bowls  of  minced  mugwort    &.    benzoin.      ❝    perhaps  it  would  help  to  talk  about  it.     i...    will  not  speak  in  such  haste.    ❞      as  though  a  war  is  inevitable.  // @wargoer​ continued x

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yes this is a freya blog .  no y’all are not exempt from me talking abt odin

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thinking abt freya & odin ...