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domacipitomec · 7 months

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Vzbudíte se ráno s kuropěním, je první námraza. Venku v kotli se celou noc táhnul vývar z kostí ze zabijačky. Náhle za vámi strýc, smrdí slivovicí od včera a nese pytlík nejlevnější soli s jodem. Řeznické prkno leží vydrhnuté na stole. Neviditelná práce matčina. Strýc se jme tahat z kotle kosti. Pára vůkol. Postupně se tiše vynořují další příbuzní. Mají na sobě pyžama, tlusté ponožky, pantofle a tlusté bundy. Všichni polospící sedí blízko kolem stolu, aby sdíleli teplo. I ptáci chvíli mlčí při rozednění. Maso odpadá do kosti a chládne na dřevě, ve prostřed hromádka soli. Podává se snídaně, bez chleba.

#jenom ja?#podzim #citim v kostech #venkov věc #česky #obrození #ale jen kdyz budete hodni #hezky česky #prvni chladne dny got me feeling some kind of way #slav gothic

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smerttvoyaaa · 18 hours

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orthodoxy? no thanks

i believe only in the superiority of the Slavs

#alt girl #egirl #egirlvibes #goth girl #gothic #waifugirl #girl smoking #smoking #alternative #black metal #darkness #forest #vintage #meme #slavs #slavic

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selarina · 9 months

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Ode to Psyche

The King's Gambit

-> Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Summary: A fallen Princess battles against her captivity in a tower pitted against the usurper Gojo Satoru, but soon their relationship shifts from hostility to a delicate alliance.

Content Warnings: usurper gojo, war, gothic au, politics, power dynamics, isolation, manipulation, forced marriage, psychological drama, enemies to lovers, dubious morality, beauty and the beast motif, implied sexual undertones, violence (non-graphic), feelings of inferiority, infidelity (but not really), suicidal thoughts, mention of death

Read on AO3 | Part 2 | Part 3

You're a member of the Royal Family, and after a lengthy and frankly boring fight against the enemy, they emerge victorious. They're led to glory by a few distant allies, clans to be precise, who seemed to have turned against your family.

At the front of this alliance stands a man called Gojo Satoru — with otherworldly features like white hair, and a general tall looming presence that you can't fully explain. His eyes seem to have never seen the light of day for you to even place color to them. It's always tightly wrapped with a gray or eggshell white cloth, and yet he moves the same as any other able person if not better. He seems to be faster and stronger than anyone else in this entire kingdom.

Some days you find yourself believing this yourself. You hate him but he is strong, and a strategist at heart. When you play chess with him, he's always playing the Closed Ruy Lopez, the Slav Defense, and of course, the Queen's Gambit — your personal favorite. He's always playing the long game and alas, always winning.

But mostly you think you hate him because he makes you feel less than what you were, less than god to be precise. You are Royalty — were — it's complex, but you were once always bathed in gold, and your hands were always soft because you never had to lift a single thing in your life unless it was you who wanted. But now they bear a calloused nature with bruises because you are stubborn and will not let these foreign hands touch your skin. But mostly, you hate him because you were smart. You were smart because you could be — I mean, who's to question a Princess?

But now you're talked over — walked over — by men and women alike who were previously less than dirt to you, and it leaves you reeling with enormous sadness and pure unbridled rage.

You want it back, you want it all back.

You're still a Princess, you think as you're trapped in the tall tower. You will feign incompetence, and they will believe you because who's to question a mere Princess? And then you will strategize, and you can marry or slit all of their throats — whatever works out faster, you will do.

But Gojo Satoru is cruel at heart. It may be a game of strategy that you know to play all too well, but it twinges something in you. He refuses to let you bury your father in your family grounds that have been told to hold a divine link between Heaven and Hell themselves, all because he needed to make a message and couldn't be seen to show empathy to your family — even in death.

And you're almost certain he considered just killing you but kept you strategically alive because the very first time you sneaked out of your tower before you realized you could never truly escape his eyes, you realized that his hold on this kingdom wavers greatly, and you could easily find a few allies and win the kingdom over yourself.

But it seems Gojo Satoru knew this all too well, because now you stand to be forever betrothed to the man. He announces this the very first time you win against him at chess. Maybe he knew of this and let you have a small victory as comeuppance. Now your gloating seems to akin to a player gloating over collecting pawns on the board.

After refusing to let you leave the tower, refusing to make your marriage a real one, after he married and brought in another mistress to further strengthen the kingdom after he killed your brother — your only remaining family — you think you've had enough of this indignation. You don't just feel less than god, you feel less than human, less than mere dirt.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, almost nearing a year after the war, you found yourself increasingly trapped in a peculiar dance with Gojo Satoru. His visits became a regular occurrence, and he no longer visits just for intel on the proceedings of the kingdom. Each time he entered the tower, he brought with him an array of gifts. His gifts varied from rare and exotic books to delicate trinkets from distant lands. You couldn't help but wonder if these offerings were genuine gestures of goodwill or just another move on his intricate board.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Gojo Satoru walked into the tower. The golden hue cast across his face as he carried a small, intricately carved box. He placed it before you, and as you opened it, you saw a delicate silver pendant, a radiant sapphire at its center.

"It belonged to my mother," he said softly, his eyes betraying a hint of melancholy. "She once told me that it held a piece of the night sky within it."

You casually dismissed the pendant, fully aware of the history it carried. Throughout the kingdom, the tales of Gojo's tumultuous relationship with his mother were well-known—filled with heated arguments that culminated in her tragic demise, a victim of a mysterious poison. With a derisive snort, you sneered, "And what of it?"

"Perhaps nothing," he replied. He smirked. "Merely a token of my appreciation for our… ongoing conversations."

As the pendant lay discarded on the table, Gojo's smirk only seemed to grow. His eyes appeared to study you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The year at this tower and his occasional company have driven you a bit insane. If only you could unravel the cloth that hides his eyes. You would be content. You think you could fling yourself off this tower, and you would be okay in Hell with the company of his eyes and only his eyes. You think again.

"What do you want, Gojo?" you finally spat out, breaking the tense silence. "Your trinkets mean nothing to me."

He chuckled. A low and slightly chilling sound that reverberated through the room. "Oh! But isn't that where you're wrong, my Queen?"

He stepped closer, his presence seemingly filling every inch of the space around you. You clenched your fists. His presence never intimidated you before, not when he treated you with disdain or mere dismissiveness. But now that he's trying to show and have the first conversation that holds something real, it's scaring you. It makes you want to go hide under your bed.

"I won't be swayed by whatever this is, Gojo. You should stop, and we should be as we are."

"Hmm?" He bends to look straight in your face. You wonder if he even sees you, even from under the cloth. "But I wonder, have you truly considered your situation? You're alone in this tower, isolated from the world, and your kingdom is under my control. You may resist now, and the next year, and maybe for the next 10 years after that. But what will you do when the weight of your isolation becomes too much to bear?"

He steps in closer, and closer until you’re backed up against the stone walls of your castle, “What if you go absolutely bonkers and off yourself as your mother did?”

At that, you snap, punching his chest, over and over, and yet, he remained unmoving, an unyielding monolith. You continue your trivial rampage until you grow tired, your eyes weeping blood, and your hands aching for more, but falling against your side — you’re only human and he’s — you’re not sure what he is.

He doesn’t say anything as you you fall against his chest, your forehead resting as you think about nothing. He merely picks you up, placing you under your sheets as he kisses your forehead. His lips were as strangely tender, an unsettling contrast to the turmoil he had wrought.

In your weariness, your eyes half-lidded. You speak up but your voice comes out as a soft whisper, “Why are you doing this?”

"We are more alike than you care to admit," Gojo remarked. “I guess I want you to understand me as I understand you,” he replied, his voice mirroring your softness.

After that, you change. Your heart remains unwavering and loyal to yourself but you try with him, if only to unravel the cloth around his eyes. You take his gifts, with the occasional thanks. You start making requests, requests he fulfilled in excess. One time, you asked him for a rare book – one that only had about 11 copies in the world, and he got you all 11. Plus, a 12th one that seemed to have been hidden from conversations.

And on one fateful night, that you still can’t seem to forget — a storm raged right outside the tower, casting an eerie glow through the windows that you left ajar on purpose. Satoru decided to accompany you, and the two of you found a comfortable tune in the silence.

You turn as you feel him shuffle to sit closer to you, and as a bolt of lightning split the heavens above, he reaches up to his eyes as he slowly unwound the cloth from his eyes, revealing eyes that held the same depth as the sapphire that sits in your bureau.

You reach up before it fully unveils his eyes to assist him, your hand sitting on his cheek as you’re halfway done.

“Do you see me as I finally am?” He implored his question lingering in the charged air.

But you don’t respond, merely a puppet to the moment as you inch closer and closer and closer until you feel his breath against your lips.

That night, he lays against your body, awake as his hand caress the slope of your hip, as you finally don the sapphire he got for you as your eyes come to close.

You wake the following morning greeted with the sight of the same man offering breakfast, and as your gaze entwines with his, his eyes no longer obscured by cloth, you're uncertain how to confess to the dreams that have been haunting your sleep — dreams of a raven-haired phantom. With black eyes that seemed to eclipse his blue.

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renegade-hierophant · 2 months

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Genetic situation in East-Central Europe just prior to ethnogenesis of the Slavs, beginning of the Common Era.

Light Green merging with Orange and Dark Blue would eventually form the Slavs in what is now west Ukraine, south Belarus, and east Poland. Basically the Warsaw-Kyiv-Minsk Triangle is the ancient homeland (Urheimat) of the Slavs.

In the 4th century with the destruction of their Gothic overlords (who called the Slavs Veneti), Slavs allied with the Huns, whose raids would depopulate most of East-Central Europe and open lands for Slavs to settle as farmers.

#slavs #slavic #history #ethnogenesis #proto-Slavic #genetics

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tlaquetzqui · 2 months

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“This thing isn’t really Slavic, it originates in Central Asia.”

Oh, like Slavs did? The Balto-Slavic urheimat is in western Iran.

Most Slavs didn’t get to Europe till Islam was already a thing. Bohemia is named for a Celtic tribe and what’s now Poland was Germanic, probably Gothic, in Roman times (same might go even for Ukraine, not sure about that one). The entire South Slavic region was Greek or spoke things like Illyrian that might be related to Albanian.

No but I’m sure it’s just a coincidence Polish nobles wore caftans and single-edged curved swords.

#salty amateur historian #salty amateur anthropologist

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jhara-ivez · 2 years

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After 3 weeks of research and writing, a first line up of the topics in my magazine: 1.Relationship between the Roman Empire and “barbarians” of all kinds 2.Germanic tribes 3.Goths - The division into East and West 4.Ostrogoths in Italy 5.Gothic script 6.Visigoths- The search for a new homeland 7.Arian and Catholic Faiths - Differences&Commonalities 8.The Moors 9.The father of modern surgery -al-Zahrawi 10.Byzantium (short) 11.Horsemen Invasion - The Avars 12.Equestrianism in the Early Middle Ages 13.Lombards in Italy 14.Franks 15.The myth of the Frankish armoured rider/ The importance of the Catholic Church (and propaganda) 16.Alamanni 17.Frankish fashion among the Alamanni 18.How Saxons became Anglo-Saxons 19.Vikings - or the delayed migration of nordic peoples 20.Danes 21.The Nordic influence on the English language 22.Varangians and their influence on the emergence of Kyivan Rus - a very contemporary controversy 23.Trade goods and routes in the Early Middle Ages 24.Where do the Slavs come from 25.Wagriers in Oldenburg - The “Counter-Vikings” 26.Houses and castles There can obviously still be a lot of changes, and some of the articles will be quite short because I have very limited time. But that’s what I’d like to see in the magazine.

#school stuff #final project #academic final #illustration #magazine #history #early medieval #middleages #viking #slav #germanic #moors #byzantium

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snuffysbox · 4 years

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Hello! How often do you draw on a regular basis??

Hi there! Honestly, it varies a lot. I usually get these bursts of drawing motivation that can last anything from a few hours to a week or two, but then I usually also have breaks in between where I don’t pick up a pen for days or weeks. My current drawing burst has lasted for about a week, so I’m probably gonna run out of juice fairly soon, just based on how long they usually last. I try not to force myself to draw on days I’m just not feeling it, in any case.

#hope you don't mind me publishing this #gothic-slav

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skeletontonguedworld · 4 years

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Happy Summer Solstice

#carrie #me #summer solstice #black and white #witch #dark #goth #slav #slavic #polish #gothic

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nvmbr · 4 years

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#russia #slav #ufo #grunge #goth #gothic #photography #alien

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tricksterslav · 6 years

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Polish gothic- Dolnośląskie edition

There's malls everywhere in Wrocław, but there's nothing in them. They're empty, customers walking around slowly, listening to the static. They were looking for the nearest h&m, but there's only a cinema here, unfortunately. Don't worry, they're cheap on Tuesdays. Nobody knows why it's only 14zł and what's the additional price, but you think you may...

The bus is not arriving anytime soon. Other people are getting nervous, but you just kick back and relax. It'll come around, someday.

There's a train station near your house. There's nobody around, there's no trains. The ticket office stands shut. Yet an old woman is always waiting. She's not lost, she tells you. It'll come around, someday. She says.

You don't ever see Sky Tower- it's like it's not there, but you know it is, it always is, looking over the city. Yet you don't see it. Maybe it's in the clouds, maybe it's not. You dont ask.

There's cheaps of tourists in the city centre. You hear the Germans say "Breslau" and you grin mischievously. That name is inaccurate, there's a much older one that they're not aware of, and they'll never be.

Asians are taking photos of the gnomes everytime they see one. They don't know that they're all the same? Don't they notice it?

Curious children knock on the little door near the church of saint Elżbieta- didn't their mother teach them not to do that? You tell them they won't like what's inside. It's the truth.

You spend two hours on the bus everyday. You hate the bus, and you'd much more like to ride a tram; they're clean, fast, aren't ever late. You complain about buses. Your friends complain about trams. None of you have ever been on a tram.

On Sundays, you always buy chałwa from the same Ukrainian guy. You know it's not real, just like him, but you still pay. He's nice.

You go on a trip to Karkonosze. You've been in Karpacz, Jelenia Góra, Szklarska Poręba and the other places a million times, and you'll visit more. There's Liczyrzepa in the mountains, there's ghosts in the castles and creatures in every abandoned mine. You pretend you don't notice how they're staring at you.

You meet some Czech people on the track- as always. You wink at them, because they know exactly what's going on. They're a w a r e. Just like you.

On the 29th of September, there's a big fair in Jelenia Góra, and everybody finds some antiques to buy. You don't know how, but every year manage to get the things that feel the most suspicious and haunted.

There's exactly 118 bridges in Wrocław, and you know the name of every single one, but you somehow don't remember the five rivers that flow under them. Weird.

There's now a church on the top of Ślęża, and you know the Old Gods aren't pleased. "What have these fools done?" You ask yourself everytime you see the outline of the mountain in the morning mist.

There's places like Legnica and Smolec, Środa Śląska, Ząbkowice, Góra. You know you have relatives in some of them, one of your classmates is from Smolec. You've never seen any of those places, now that you think about it. Do they even exist? You're unsure.

The letters WKS are carved on the insides of your eyelids, you constantly see red, white and green. They're yelling near the stadium, but they don't even know who's playing. You lower the blinds. You don't want any trouble.

You step outside. The air feels fresh and crisp, it's the most beautiful morning this winter. The board on the bus stop says "stan powietrza- okropny " again, and you sigh, slipping on your gas mask.

You joke about 'Trójkąt' with your friends, but neither of you are brave enough to actually face it.

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