valkxrie

[valkxrie]

from the shelf: walking lake calhoun, cameron awkward rich

[valkxrie]

Valérie Favre (Swiss,b.1959)

Die Quelle am Bach, 2005

[valkxrie]

@rensect

She felt barren through every cell. Every soft and hard place in her was a wilderness where a wild and newly free thing roamed. Freedom felt like acid in the back of her throat. Like salt in her sinuses. Like ash in her teeth.

Zela's voice was a tune Brunnhilde had never heart. One she could never forget. Her vision beheld the other, cupping her like water in parched palms. Like a prayer to the lips.

"They exist beyond death" she replied to the Orb Weaver. To the eyes on the wings of a moth. "Surely, you cannot give that which death owns. It belongs to no one, and no one can claim it."

The lightning fed Brunnhilde, igniting her meat the way it always had. Her vertebrae suckled from it. Her posture did not flinch. Her eardrums did not hear. Lightening was succour for a Valkyrie. Ichor. Breath itself.

The carcass of what had been became a corpse. And she was tired. Her chest remained rent open for Zela. Her hand remained curved upon knuckles that were not hers. Her abyss grew deep and wide and began blinking.

"You are kind but you cannot give what no longer exists. You cannot return that which has nothing to return to."

[valkxrie]

Journey into the Surreal: Virgil Finlay’s Illustration for ‘Famous Fantastic Mysteries’, 1943

[valkxrie]

lagertha + owl

[valkxrie]

“And they will come in such dismay That they never did discover where I lay And I will burn my flesh and form Screaming the words, "It will never be yours" I'll take the flame over desecration Promise you'll make all these arrangements Don't you dare think it's overkill I wouldn't wish the watching on anybody So if for that reason only Swear to me you will”

[valkxrie]

Koyaanisqatsi 1982 · dir. Godfrey Reggio

[valkxrie]

@silverjetsystm

It was hot out, and it seemed to melt his smile into someone else's. Into something she hadn't seen before. It gave Brunnhilde a moment of pause, even his accent shifting a little beneath the sun and the sand and the shitty community exercise program.

Still - she's only known Marc briefly in the grand scheme of things. A. new kind of smile didn't raise many flags, and none of them were red. Besides, chemistry doesn't need a lot of time to bubble along; it's arguably the opposite of a slow-burn, especially in a military setting.

"Well shit, Spector. Now I'm hungry." Brunnhilde set her hands on her hips. How long had it been since she'd had a good burger? "Contraband can't replace a good milkshake. Or creme brulee."

He could keep the family stuff. She missed taking her mom out for coffee. But, it wasn't Shabbat. It wasn't getting fershnickered - as he called it - with those you hold dear. There was nothing to get into fancy dress for out there. Their formal regalia had its place, but it was a far cry from YSL and champagne.

"You telling me you exist in something that isn't this uniform?" Something akin to flirting. Her back cracks as she twists her middle, severing her posture. "Were you scrubbing up for anyone in particular, or is it all part of the show that comes with dinner?"

[valkxrie]

@kylo-wrecked

Her teeth graze his kiss, sharp on the curve of his lower lip for a half second. Less than. Brunnhilde bites. It should be written across her forehead.

He's issued a challenge with his raw cacao tongue. He's towing a line. He hasn't asked for Maralyn; only something that might be impossible instead. The Valkyrie sits anyway, legs cris-cross, a fox grinning from her eyes and her eyes only.

Brunnhilde knew many birthday songs, but only one she had sung for other Aesir. It matched his terracotta pot. It fit the shape of her mouth and hue of her palate. It had no key except that which can be found in all birthday songs.

"Do you know Swedish?" She asked, before beginning. "It is akin to Swedish."

In a voice akin to Swedish, and seated as he had told her to do, Brunnhilde sang Ben a birthday song. She sang him the whole thing, eyes never leaving the black maw of his gaze. When she was done, the fox climbed from beneath her brows and into her teeth.

"You'd blow out your candles at this point." A predacious pause, with no expectation of an ovation. "And then we'd drink."

[valkxrie]

dear mother, i’m tired.

digital drawing, part 1 of a triptych.

[valkxrie]

[valkxrie]

Wraith Kneading a Snowball / Allegory of Winter, 2013-14 — Denis Forkas Kostromitin (Russian, b.1977)

[valkxrie]

[valkxrie]

‘Who would not climb the wall for a peer over the edge?’

@mothercain

[valkxrie]

Anna de Noailles, translated by Jethro Bithell, from Poems; "A Heart Made Of Moss,"

[valkxrie]

Katheryn Winnick as Hannah Burley in ‘Bones’

[valkxrie]

David McLeod

@kylo-wrecked