#eastern slavs
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I'm swallowed by my shitty sound engineering job now so I don't have time and will to draw full arts but today I made the slavic lesbians interrupted kiss sketch bon appetite
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Russian women near the Sharshenga River praying to trees
Russian women near the Sharshenga River praying to trees. Kozma Prazhsky in the Czech Chronicle (XII century) reported that the Slavs prayed to trees in sacred groves. A similar observation was made by the German chronicler Helmgold (XII century), who described the life and customs of the Polabian Slavs.
One of the veneration of trees among the Eastern Slavs, it is mentioned in the "Life of Constantine of Murom", and John Chrysostom spoke about the facts of the existence of special prayers to trees among the Slavic people. [He did more than that; he persecuted people who did that, in his own region of Syira and Asia Minor.] This practice is well known even today in Christianity. People didn't throw away their praying rituals of the past…
Photo source: Matea Vuković, Slavic Rituals The Sharzhenga (Russian: Шарженга, Шарженьга) is a river in Nyuksensky, Babushkinsky, and Nikolsky Districts of Vologda Oblast in Russia.
#Sharshenga River#Russia#praying to trees#Kozma Prazhsky#Czech Chronicle#XII Century#Slavs#trees#sacred groves#German chronicler#Helmgold#Polabian Slavs#Eastern Slavs#Life of Constantine of Murom#john chrysostom#prayers#Matea Vuković#Slavic rituals#Nyuksensky#Babushkinsky#Nikolsky#Vologda Oblast
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Old colorized photos of Hutsul people of west Ukraine.
#Ukraine#Slavic#Eastern Europe#Europe#Slavs#Ukrainian#East Slavs#East Slavic#History#Culture#Folklore#Hutsul#Hutsuls
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"Russian traditional costume" (1969)
Illustrations by Nina Vinogradova-Benois (1936-1986)
#Россия#Russia#vintage#illustrations#русский народный костюм#russian costume#costume#slavic#русские#russians#people#slavs#русская культура#russian culture#culture#Нина Виноградова-Бенуа#Nina Vinogradova-Benois#русская художница#russian artist#artist#folk#traditional#russian art#art#beauty#russian#Eastern Europe#clothes#traditional art#1960s
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#stolen again but who cares the post i stole it from also stole it#posted by me#meme#eastern europe#slavic#slavs#slavblr
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Go outside and take a walk. It should help improve your mental state.
#romanisme#romania#bucharest#sovietica#bucuresti#eastern europe#slav aesthetic#balkans#communist architecture#postcommunism#dark aesthetic#romanian artist#foggy aesthetic#foggy morning
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He Who Comes From Under The Water
Chapter 1 - The Promised Bride
Monster!König X she/her afab Reader
CN sexism & patriarchy, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, accidental attempted drowning, arranged marriage, choking on water, mention of a human bodies decomposition
eventual smut.
Beta-read by @sandinthemachine and @queenquazar. Thank you both so much for supporting me with obsessing over fairy tales.
Masterlist
“So, you are a king without a queen?” The old man asked while throwing his rod back into the water. “I suppose you require a queen then, eh?”
The king, considering the old fisherman’s words, slowly nodded. “I suppose I do. But where does one get such a fine lady?”
The water below the wooden landing was dark and dirty. Frogs croaked and fireflies danced over the green sludge and water lilies, lively and playful like the flecks of sunlight that reached the surface through the thick forest trees. A pretty scene on any other day.
Not this one.
Your tears had long stopped flowing into the water of the deep pond. Now, you sat there, your hand tangled in the water and your thoughts lost, dark and deep like the water below you.
A few days ago, your grandfather died. A kind old man who had spent the last years of his life close to the warm oven in winter and fishing in the pond in the summertime.
You remembered bedtime stories as a child with sweets sneaked into your hands. You remembered kind eyes who watched out for you as you grew from child to maiden. You remembered worry in those same eyes when your father died in the forest chopping wood, when your brothers perished in a tavern fire, your uncle and your mother succumbing to sickness, and - finally - your cousin breaking his neck after climbing a tree.
Yes, there was a lot of pain in your grandfathers’ eyes. But even more to worry.
The old man had been your last living relative, and most importantly your last male relative.
And now you as an unmarried village girl from a clearly cursed family, had no one who could inherit your family’s house and support you.
It was only time until the village would shun you and chase you away to get rid of all the bad around you.
That is if you were lucky.
You could try to make it into the city where you would live for a while as a beggar or, if you were hungry and deemed pretty enough, work as a whore.
In his last days, your grandfather tried to arrange for a husband, but no one wanted a cursed girl, and so his last words to you were to visit his favorite fishing spot.
You sighed.
Now, you sat on the same spot where your grandfather had sat, catching fish, and gazing over the water.
Maybe that’s what he had meant, you mused. It would be easier to end it all here and jump into the pond only to never return to the surface, drowning your sorrows and yourself with your grandfathers’ blessings. At least you would choose your fate with your chin proudly raised and your dignity untouched, floating into the abyss in your best billowing skirts from the funeral and no more tears left to cry.
As much as that was possible considering your situation.
“It’s a good place to leave this world,” you spoke out loud to taste how it felt on your tongue. It resonated, with the forest, the pond, with you.
“Indeed, it is.”
You twitched in surprise, heart jumping into your throat.
“Who is this?” you called over the water, glancing around for whoever lurked within the trees, hiding between the ferns.
A hand, big and wet, snatched yours from the water and pulled you in with one strong tug.
You wailed in surprise before crashing into the pond and swallowing the muddy green water, gurgling and gasping for air. Something seized you – strong and solid. Instinctually you kicked and punched it.
Was this it?
NO!
Fighting for your life you thrashed around, struggling and trying to free yourself to get back up to the surface. But whoever had you in a hold only dragged you down, carrying you further into the dark.
Your panicked eyes widened, trying to see who attacked you, trying to see anything.
It was dark. Only the dark, green water around you.
No, no, no, no!
Your lungs heaved for air as your heart drummed painfully in your hurting chest.
A second hand twisted around your throat and over your face. Instinctually, you opened your mouth and bit down.
The hands jolted back with a howl reverberating in the water, releasing you from the deadly weight dragging you down. Hungry for air and with burning lungs you swam up with frenzied strokes, pushing through the surface. Gasping and coughing you breathed, feeding your body with much needed air.
Quickly, you glanced around. No one there. Was this someone from the village trying to get rid of you? Did you manage to drag your attacker down with you? Or was it an animal in the water?
Before you could move, something grabbed you again and lifted you a good length out above the water.
You screamed and kicked again only to have your legs and hands fixated in an iron grip.
“Hold still!” A voice commanded you, foreign and vibrating close. You struggled on, thrashing your body against the solid form behind your back, unwilling to take any chances and die here without a fight.
“I said, hold still!” the grip around your limbs tightened, forcing you into stillness. “There, finally.”
Slowly, you turned your head. You were caught in the grip of a dark, green form, pressed against what must be its chest and stared at by sharp, watery eyes from a nearly obscured face from tangled wet hair and a beard.
Who is this? You thought to yourself, still heaving for air.
“Why are you fighting me?” the strange being said, “I’m here to take you in as my bride. Just like I have promised.”
You coughed again, a bit of swamp water and spit running down your chin, splashing onto the being’s arm.
“What?” you cried and with your head still spinning.
“What what?” The large figure snapped back, “The old man asked me to take you as my wife, yet you bite me? Is that how you want to treat your future husband? Do you want me to let you go? I have no need for an unwilling bride.”
You blinked, your body slowing down and your mind starting to think clearly again.
“You nearly drowned me. Let me go!” you cried out as much as your abused lungs allowed.
The figure blinked and instantly dropped you.
With a loud splash you crashed back into the water.
Your body seized and your mind raced, struggling to comprehend and move your body up.
You made a few weak swimming strokes, but it wasn’t enough to move your still tired and abused body up. Water started filling your lungs again and you were about to dr-
Something grabbed you and lifted you. Again.
“Woman!” the strange being cried out in annoyance, “What are you doing?”
You coughed, swamp water from your hair dripping over your face, disorienting you further as you gasped for air.
“Wait, maiden, do you need to breathe?” the strange creature asked, “Make up your mind! I was just trying to take you home, but you don’t want that. So I did like you asked but then you started sinking like a stone back into my waters again, heaving for air!”
You shivered, “Of course I need to breathe! All humans need air, idiot! What kind of question is that?!”
The creature groaned and grumbled, “The old man forgot to mention you are a human. I thought you might be a nymph or a bigger frog lady. Well, that’s just bad luck.”
You snorted, “Oh, I am sorry that me needing air is inconvenient for you! I nearly died down there in those muddy waters!”
“Hey, those are mighty fine waters of mine, thank you very much. Besides, the second time was not my fault.”
“Your waters?” you managed.
“Who else’s waters?” the figure deadpanned as you’d asked the most obvious question, swayed, and started moving towards the landing before carefully putting you onto the planks instead of holding you like a cat holds its naughty young, “Stay. Let me take a better look at you.”
You huffed and collapsed onto the planks out of the wet arms. It wasn’t like you could run anyway with your body still shaky and weak from the near drownings. Instead, you lifted your head for a better look at the stranger as they studied you.
The strange being from the waters was built like a man, but huge and larger than the tallest man you had ever seen. And it had the face close to a man too under all that unkempt hair and beard. But its facial features were fine, much too fine for any man who could lurk in the waters, and slightly too angular and with eyes a bit too lively and sharp to belong to a human as they studied you.
“Pretty girl.” the man from the water finally grumbled, “A bit unruly but pretty. At least that the old man did not lie about it.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “Thank you?”
The man shrugged, “Sorry for trying to drown you, apparently, I misunderstood your fragile physique.”
Fragile physique. He made it sound like an insult.
You took one final breath and summoned your strength to sit up to be on the same eye level as the large man from the water.
“Who are you?” you asked while trying to sort your wet skirts.
He snorted and waved slightly.
“I am König – king of all under the waters. Naturally. And you are the bride I was promised by the old fisherman a couple of days ago.”
Your eyes widened in surprise, “Do you mean my grandfather? He used to fish here.”
The man shrugged, causing little waves around his shoulders where he emerged from the pond, “Most humans all look and smell the same to me, honestly. He was old for a human, liked to share stories, and left me a bit of tobacco as offerings sometimes. Smelled of smoked fish.”
Memories of your grandfather flashed before your eyes where he sat on the bench in front of the house, smoking his pipe in the late hours of the day, watching the sun go down.
Your mouth went dry.
Had he? Did he really?
Did he, in all his misery and worry, promised your hand to a strange man from the pond – a huge and wet and cold and clearly dangerous monster.
You went stiff from the overwhelming thought of being given away like that to a stranger - to a monster.
“Well, you are a human but I’m not in the habit of breaking promises and I'm sure you would make a good enough queen,” König continued, “Unless you object of course. There is little as unhonourable as having an unwilling bride, not even the slimiest toad approves of that.”
König babbled on about waters and ponds and marriage but your head was spinning. Your grandfather arranged for you to marry an algae cover man from the pond who's idea of home nearly killed you. The painful absurdity of it made you consider jumping right back into the water.
The cold, dark and green water.
The buzzing of the summer insects and splashing of the little waves drowned everything else out, turning louder and louder and louder and-
“Maid?”
His hand touched your arm, slowly shaking you.
You jolted up only to fall back.
“Yes?” you managed while leaning back, away from the large, clawed hand.
König’s watery eyes shifted around you as if searching for the right words.
“Listen, I don’t know too much about you humans, “ König started, “but you look cold and miserable. Maybe let’s worry about that first and talk about our wedding later.”
You blinked as the realization in all its form settled in.
Marrying him?
He would drown you in this pond, your flesh rotting and being picked by the fishes until nothing but a pile of bones were left.
Your bones, your lovely bones.
No! You had felt your life slip out of your fingers, the precious air bubbles escaping your lungs bare moments ago. Your cold hands wandered around your pained body intuitively, cradling yourself and trying to protect you from the outside world. You weren’t ready to give up on this life - to give on your body - and you would keep yourself safe and alive. This was your skin, your hair and flesh and bones! Death would come to you one day but you would be damned if it came today at the bottom of a dark pond and by the hands of a man.
“Yes, you are right. I should get dry,” you managed, sensing a chance to escape.
With wobbly legs, you tried to get up only to sway and stumble down on your knees. You needed to leave this place.
König tilted his head, watching you.
You tried again; your muscles too weak to carry you.
“Dear,” König said with slight amusement in his voice, “Your will is admirable, pretty girl. But I doubt it will be enough to get you home.”
“So? Will you drag me back into the pond and finish your work?” you replied, considering the option to crawl home and far away from the water
“Why would I do that, bride?”, he chuckled before turning serious again, looking at you with those blue more than clear inhuman eyes, “I have heard it’s not customary but allow me to get you to your home before you hurt yourself. You humans take so long to heal and an injured bride during the wedding would be a nuisance.”
Fearful you tried to move again.
He watched, waiting for your answer.
You considered his words. Your home. And he clearly wanted you in one piece at least before the wedding.
“No pond?”, you asked with an oh so thin weak voice.
“No pond.” He reassured, “That’s clearly not your element, my little bride-to-be.”
Slowly, you nodded.
Carefully, as if not to spook you, he scooped you back into his arms once again and pressed you to his chest.
You felt yourself going stiff again from fear, but before you could cry out, König stepped out of the water and away from the dreaded pond.
“See, no pond,” König spoke soothingly, and you felt his voice vibrate in his chest as he moved and swayed to avoid branches while shielding you with his shoulders, “I’m keeping my promises, my little bride.”
#there will be a mix of folkloric elements in this since i grew up with both eastern and central european traditions and can do what i want#this was written with a special amount of love for my fellow slavs and hinterland fairy tales collectors#könig#könig cod#könig x reader#könig mw2#könig call of duty#könig fanfiction#könig x you#call of duty#könig x oc#monster#monster x human#monster!könig
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There are two types of slavic men and there is no in-between
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Night on the Boulevard.
#photography#nature#nikon#landscape#original#photographers on tumblr#travel#art#mountains#sofia#bulgaria#europe#night photography#slavs#slavic#eastern europe
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Inside a house in Zalipie, Poland
#Poland#Central Europe#Eastern Europe#Slav#Slavic#Cute#Folk#Folk art#Beautiful#Europe#Room goals#Traditional
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how do u think sasha would help leon out during his spiral in vendetta?
Probably not gonna be too grand of an answer but, just by simply being there.
Sasha is living proof that Leon's neverending battles aren't in vain. There may be no end to these BOWs but as long as Leon is still alive, he can still save lives much like how he saved Sasha's. He reminds Leon of that speech back in his country that he has to continue living and if living is fighting then so be it.
#also after the mission leon just fucks off into eastern slav republic and resumes his vacation there with sasha#and sasha makes damn sure hes well fed and taken care of#the agent may be fighting but doesnt mean he never gets a single break#leon saved sasha so he returns the favor#by giving him this rare moment of peace and bliss
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Pretty gay lying on the grass
#slavic#Eastern Europe#slavic culture#eastern slavs#the flaming sword#tfs#lada#yaroslava#lesbian#lesbians#bisexual#original character#original story
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NOOO MY SLAVIC BESTIE PETROFSKY 😔😔😔😔😭😭😭 bro was born in the gothic horror world not the crime and punishment world
#dracula daily#average Slav experience (murdered)#(I say but I’m a fake Slav 😔 my Eastern European clout is only superficial)#but Mongolians are cool guys I swear
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A young couple from the village of Kosivska Polyana, dressed in the traditional attire of the Carpatho-Rusyns. Photograph from the 1930s-1940s.
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From anthropological album "The Russians" (1867)
#Россия#Russia#vintage#photography#русские#russians#slavs#people#anthropology#russian#photo#Eastern Europe#history#slavic#portraits#Europe#traditional#folk#european#photos#vintage photography#1860s#1867#19th century
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what if there were two lesbians from serbia (srem and šumadija respectively) and they had two cats and a kitten. what if. and what if they kissed also
#serbia#lesbian pride#lesbian#slavic art#slavic#slavic wlw#artists on tumblr#trad art#cat#cat art#cats#kitty art#sapphic#slav#slavic sapphic#eastern europe#slavic culture#balkan#original
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