#Vedia

[ladylupae]

Vedia the Witch-Knight, by Littleevil0ne on Bluesky.

She is a knight errant, always looking for the next quest and person to protect.

[purplepink-blueberry]

čižeee taraba chce zakotviť v ústave že slovensko stojí na princípe dvoch pohlaví (muža a ženy). okej. znamená to, že som konečne vlastizradca? snažil som sa celý život byť poriadnym vlastizradcom. zatiaľ som len ničila tradičnú rodinu, slovenské tradície (aby som bolo férové, bryndzové halušky mi nikdy nešmakovali), alebo som boli pliaga. ale vlastizradca ešte nie. zbieram tituly ako odznačiky (aj odznačiky zbieram ako odznačiky)

[thedrown]

BLAABR- Sad Girl Hours

Newer doodle of Somber with some minor design changes

[lovelyballetandmore]

Jiva Velázquez | Williams Malpezzi | Martín Vedia | Teatro Colón | Photo by Máximo Parpagnoli

[purslanes]

location: sahin-van ness manor vedia & rosalind @tidelure

dreams  are  delicate  fabergé  eggs.  they  are  fine  artistry  orchestrated  and  plucked  from  the  subconscious,  untold  symbolism  presented  to  a  sleeping  mind.  just  as  easily  they  fall  to  disturbance.  rosalind  knows  she  is  in  a  dream  because  she  should  be  cold,  but  is  not.  sahin-van  ness  manor  looms  a  proverbial  black  hole  over  the  landscape.  its  man  made  terrors  built  with  brick  and  mortar  and  stone  same  as  any  other  home,  but  infused  with  a  blackness  of  spirit.  its  mad  face  she  has  not  been  witness  to  in  two  long  years  and  it  stands  waiting  for  her,  beckoning.  

you’re  like  alice  and  i’m  the  white  rabbit.  a  child’s  voice  echoes  from  eons  ago.  or  perhaps  she  has  been  alice  all  along.  carpet  pulled  from  beneath  her  feet,  upending  her  and  sending  her  tumbling  down  the  rabbit  hole.  this  is  true  in  a  sense,  because  she  is  so  lost  –  always  lost  –  and  hopelessly  abandoned,  adrift  in  life.  please,  someone  notice  me,  she  wants  to  cry.  don’t  leave  me  here  on  my  lonesome.  

the  howl  of  dogs  at  a  distance  and  she  is  the  rabbit  again,  racing  wildly  along  the  lawn.  a  heart  encaged  behind  ribs  flutters  to  be  sent  free,  released  before  the  gnashing  teeth  of  hounds  are  upon  it.  from  lawn  to  forest  she  flies  with  abandon.  branches  whip  against  her  tender  cheeks,  slicing  into  her  soft  skin,  but  she  barely  registers  the  pain.  gnarled  trees  are  replaced  with  the  open  grounds  of  the  sahin-van  ness  family  cemetery.  gravestones  poke  out  from  beneath  the  dirt  in  varying  shades  of  white  and  gray  like  finger  bones  stripped  of  their  skin.  how  fitting  then,  for  the  ghost  of  vedia  sahin-van  ness  herself  to  be  wandering  amongst  them,  just  as  pale  and  gangling;  princess  of  moss  and  decay  and  secrets.

the  world  is  a  mockery  of  me,  rosalind  thinks  bitterly.  the  mirror  of  a  girl  stands  poised  before  an  open  grave,  one  foot  dangled  over  the  precipice  of  the  other  world.  but  her  own  pace  doesn’t  slow  until  something  catches  at  her  ankle,  forcing  her  to  her  knees.  she  looks  back  just  in  time  to  see  the  tendril  of  kudzu  vine  looped  around  her  before  she  is  being  dragged  across  the  earth  against  her  will.  fingernails  scraping  into  the  dirt,  she  screams,  “vedia!  vedia!  help  me!  you  have  to  help  me!”

[tree-of-blue-squirrel]

if you asked a Czech, they would tell you it happened because they weren´t atheist enough

Czechs in question:

🇨🇿🗣 what is god 🇨🇿🍻

[adribosch-fan]

EL GOBIERNO QUIERE PROHIBIR POR LEY LOS HOMENAJES A MILITARES CONDENADOS POR DELITOS DE LESA HUMANIDAD

Es uno de los puntos incluidos en la reforma de la ley del personal de las Fuerzas Armadas, enviado al Senado; hasta ahora lo impiden normas de rango inferior; es difícil que el Congreso trate la propuesta antes de fin de año Mariano De Vedia El Gobierno tiene previsto prohibir por ley a las Fuerzas Armadas la realización de homenajes públicos a los condenados por delitos de lesa humanidad y…

[dlyarchitecture]

[horrorcitos]

Carolina Vedia

[scpsis]

" yeah ... " wymon admitted in defeat, grimacing as he assessed the damage. he would've chosen to endure the stinging, written it off as a mild finger prick, if not for how she uses the wound to bridge the gap between them again. her hands are the same as they always were : delicate, fairy-like. though wymon was not a particularly large man, one of his hands could swallow both of hers, could pin each dainty wrist together effortlessly when the moment called for it. recollection tied a knot in his throat as her nail scraped against rounded, now puckered flesh.

he suckled on his lower lip, raking it between his teeth as a makeshift dam, fearful of what may spill out if he didn't. her inquiry proved to make that impossible. " i've been ... " the male trailed off, hypnotized by the repetitive grating of her fingernail, the oxytocin release that her grip inspired.

what he wants to say : i've been awful. i've been alone. i've been riddled with enough grief to drown an olympic swimmer. i am water-logged and always leaking, leaking, leaking. my body is a piece of broken driftwood. i'm haunted by mistakes and burdens that aren't mine. even more than that, there is not a day that i am not haunted by YOU.

but it came out as, " everything is different now. " he meant it.

wymon had said sit, but after the slow trail in following him from bathroom to the hearth — too nervous to make the trek on her own, too shaken to deviate from his path — vedia remains standing, shuffling her weight and the bulk of her thoughts from one foot to the next. the room itself is inviting enough, small and slanted in a way the exterior of the parsonage implied, but there's the lingering sense of being something unsuitable for this house. it's foreign, and therefore she has no measure with which to understand what is acceptable — if it would be terrible to stain that couch there with the wet of her hair, or worse still to sit in the armchair in the corner, which might have belonged to a stern man in a dark robe — but it's also familiar. cast in a noxious glow. you are not welcomed in this house or anywhere my nephew, miss sahin.

it's the expletive that breaks her reverie, and from behind him vedia shifts uncomfortably. she feels suddenly very small, condensed in size by all this water, stripped of her clothes and some of the buffering volume of her presence: little more than some tiny doll that wymon could fit in the curl of one palm. her heart, however, remains the same size. it throbs with discomfort at wymon's expression of pain, and the knowledge that she doesn't know what to do with it.

"is it a splinter?"

it takes several wary steps to close the distance between them, and several more turns of the mind to bring vedia to the conclusion that kindness is meant to beget kindness. "i can— i can help." a hand reaches from beneath the towel, eyes flitting meaningfully upward for a kind of permission before taking his wrist. she turns the hand gently palm-up, running the curve of a thumbnail over the pinked skin of his finger, searching for the intrusion. contact hadn't used to be so scarce, or so frightening. when they'd been together, vedia used to greet him the only way she knew how, the way she liked best, with all her body against all of his body, the same way school children show their love ⸺ throwing handfuls of glue and glitter onto a page, smearing as much as they can onto a the open space to prove how much feeling is inside them. now, despite the cold of her exposed body, vedia feels heat flush around her neck like a locked collar from the mere overlap of fingers. the nail drags repeatedly, firm and gentle, over the soft belly of his thumb. she does not look up as she attempts to fill the quiet. "have you... have you been alright?"

[mondosalamone]

La municipalidad vediense se encuentra en una esquina, frente a la plaza, pero no en ochava como la de Alem. Es una construcción pintada de blanco y armoniza con la alargada y despojada plaza céntrica en la que el mástil, simple, delgado y también obra de Salamone, se lleva todo el protagonismo. Las pesadillas de grietas, derrumbamientos, jueces y juicios, asegura el poeta y arquitecto catalán Joan Margarit, sorprenden oníricamente a las almas entregadas a la arquitectura. Esos temores parecen cuento en esta mole salamónica, llena de solidez y hasta de frialdad. La entrada, sostenida por dos columnas, convive con ventanas laterales y curvas que dinamizan el aire del edificio. Traspasada la puerta principal, enfatizada por dos enormes manijas que ayudan a abrirla, la municipalidad, amplia y circunspecta, invita a subir por unos escalones que terminan en un gran ojo de buey y que se bifurcan en dos escaleras. Por intermedio de ellas se llega a un salón espacioso, donde se hace la recepción a las autoridades políticas que visitan la localidad. Siempre dentro de la planta baja, la sala del Concejo Deliberante, desplegada curvamente, carga de un clima galáctico la permanencia en el recinto. La silla y el escritorio del presidente del concejo terminan en tres líneas (¿los tres poderes del estado?) que aparecen en más de una obra de Salamone. El baño de los concejales, con forma de trapecio, desconvencionaliza también la mirada. Tanto el despacho del intendente como el del secretario de gobierno dan inmediatamente a la calle: la visión y el murmullo de la vereda se cuelan por la ventana y permiten leer una metáfora de la inmediatez, de la deseable inmediatez, entre el poder y el pueblo. Ambos despachos curvos son idénticos y laterales, es decir, que no gozan de la centralidad ni la altura del espacio destinado al Concejo Deliberante. [...] - - - El matadero de Vedia no devino basurero, sino perrera municipal. Enmarañado entre árboles, chapas, ladridos de perros y el frío recibimiento de las encargadas del lugar, su presencia es hostil, mucho más que la del ruinoso matadero de Alem. ✍🏻 Alejandro Gómez Monzón 📖Ruta Salamone Ediciones bonaerenses, 2023

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[cxivo]

Ťumbľr, aký máte názor na novú hymnu?

Osobne mi to znie, ako keby celý orchester dostal inštrukciu, nech hrajú tak veľkolepo ako len vedia, ale každý hudobník to poňal inak a snaží sa, aby jeho nástroj hral čo najveľkolepejšie a najvýraznejšie...

Tú fujaru na konci som skoro ani nepočula (o speve ani nehovoriac)

[kpop-z-tuzexu]

Oukej ale vedia ľudia o tom že hoži ochutnali langoše. Lebo ľudia by mali vedieť o tom že hoži ochutnali langoše. (a potom vytvorili vlastné hororové výtvory na tému langoše, ale o tom už hovoriť nemusíme. Napriek slovnej kráse slova sarangoš.)

Mám už tuhle informaci tady od kolegia nějaký ten pátek, ale pořád nevím jak s ní naložit 😭 Každopádně by to každý měl vědět! 🥹 Jestli máš k dispozici odkaz na danou epizodu, tak prosím sem s ní 🥰

[scpsis]

her ethereal radiance was excellent for business. as good as a kilmer-level celebrity endorsement. he'd have sat her by the window if it wasn't too obvious, like a beautiful little advertisement — hopefully a social media post or two would do the trick, if she even used that stuff. panhandle oyster co's interior design was intentionally instagram-able, all moody lighting and high-end finishes. he'd consulted professionals.

his name was honey in her mouth — judge couldn't help the way it pulled at the strings of the corners of his lips. " i see we brought out the new sauvignon blanc for you. how do you like it ? we're still trying it out. comes from an indigenous-owned winery in california. all organic and sustainably produced. " his enthusiasm for hospitality is crisp, like the wine, and so very genuine. sometimes bordering on obsessive. " you have room for dessert ? we've got cheesecake with lemon curd that would go fucking perfectly with another glass. " expletive aside — it was his restaurant after all. he could speak how he wanted, even if that same lenience wasn't offered to his employees — he may as well have asked if the girl wanted him to serve the whole world to her on a silver platter.

vedia was best at being alone when she was not entirely alone ⸺ she exceeded in solitude, in particularly spectacular fashion, when buffed on all sides by the soft cushion of glances and the hedgerow of attention. it wasn't entirely her fault ⸺ girls who prefer the centre of the room rarely come to this partiality on their own. they learn the aptitude by first being pretty creatures pinned to a corkboard, a showcase drawn up and speared through by hovering parental hands. all that to say that by the time the owner of the dim-lit leather booth vedia finds herself sitting in makes his way over to her, she's enjoyed the night immensely ... as she does every night at his restaurant.

"judge," his name comes out warm and rolled in the careless warmth so characteristic of vedia's voice. she's wine-drunk and lighthearted for it, smiling, a pink silk balloon filled to the point of shining. "i was wondering if i'd see you tonight." her eye glance over the length of him, clad in the vaguely familiar look of what she assumes to be a true seaman. though there were too many years between them for vedia to register judge as anything tangible, he had the platonic charm of a well-timed sunset or a neatly assembled cabin: a view on the roadside you enjoyed simply because it was there. "i don't know how you do it..." vedia cants her head, little fingers curling against the line of her glass, nails milky and round and clinking against the stem. like set of pearls pried from oysters they kept in the back. "if this was any better it would be positively indecent."

[mirzablogg]

#Bismillahirrahmanirrahim

Eyvah! Aldandık. Şu hayat-ı dünyeviyeyi sabit zannettik. O zan sebebiyle bütün bütün zayi' ettik. Evet şu güzeran-ı hayat bir uykudur, bir rü'ya gibi geçti. Şu temelsiz ömür dahi, bir rüzgâr gibi uçar gider...

ﺍِﻧْﺴَﺎﻥْ ﺑَﺰَﻭَﺍﻝْ ﺩُﻧْﻴَﺎ ﺑَﻔَﻨَﺎ ﺍَﺳْﺖْ ﺍَﻣَﺎﻝْ ﺑِﻰ ﺑَﻘَﺎ ﺍَﻟﺎَﻡْ ﺑَﺒَﻘَﺎ ﺍَﺳْﺖْ

Kendine güvenen ve ebedî zanneden mağrur insan, zevale mahkûmdur. Sür'atle gidiyor. Hane-i insan olan dünya ise, zulümat-ı ademe sukut eder. Emeller bekasız, elemler ruhta bâki kalır.

ﺑِﻴَﺎ ﺍَﻯْ ﻧَﻔْﺲِ ﻧَﺎﻓَﺮْﺟَﺎﻡْ ﻭُﺟ��ﻮﺩِ ﻓَﺎﻧِﻰ ﺧُﻮﺩْﺭَﺍ ﻓَﺪَﺍ ﻛُﻦْ

ﺧَﺎﻟِﻖِ ﺧُﻮﺩْﺭَﺍ ﻛِﻪ ﺍِﻳﻦْ ﻫَﺴْﺘِﻰ ﻭَﺩِﻳﻌَﻪ ﻫَﺴْﺖْ

Madem hakikat böyledir; gel ey hayata çok müştak ve ömre çok talib ve dünyaya çok âşık ve hadsiz emeller ile ve elemler ile mübtela bedbaht nefsim! Uyan aklını başına al! Nasılki yıldız böceği, kendi ışıkçığına itimad eder. Gecenin hadsiz zulümatında kalır. Bal arısı, kendine güvenmediği için, gündüzün güneşini bulur. Bütün dostları olan çiçekleri, Güneşin ziyasıyla yaldızlanmış müşahede eder. Öyle de: Kendine, vücuduna ve enaniyetine dayansan; yıldız böceği gibi olursun. Eğer sen, fâni vücudunu, o vücudu sana veren Hâlıkın yolunda feda etsen, bal arısı gibi olursun. Hadsiz bir nur-u vücud bulursun. Hem feda et. Çünki şu vücud, sende vedia ve emanettir.

Hem onun mülküdür. Hem o vermiştir. Öyle ise, minnet etmeyerek ve çekinmeyerek fena et, feda et; tâ beka bulsun. Çünki nefy-i nefy, isbattır. Yani: Yok, yok ise; o vardır. Yok, yok olsa; var olur.

Hâlık-ı Kerim, kendi mülkünü senden satın alıyor. Cennet gibi büyük bir fiatı verir. Hem o mülkü senin için güzelce muhafaza ediyor. Kıymetini yükselttiriyor. Yine sana, hem bâki, hem mükemmel bir surette verecektir. Öyle ise, ey nefsim! Hiç durma. Birbiri içinde beş kârlı bu ticareti yap. Tâ beş hasaretten kurtulup, beş rıbhi birden kazanasın.

İman ve Küfür Müvazeneleri - 84

[mychlapci]

ľudia, ktorých obľúbený z trilógie je slnko seno jahody sú prostí ale vedia, čo chcú, ľudia, ktorých obľúbený je slnko seno a pár facek sú dobrodružný a ľudia, ktorých obľúbený je slnko seno erotika.... tým nie je záchrany