#Blood Voivode

[keyofsentience]

too broke for onyx so i'll have to wait for its rerun. blue swallow will be gracing my acc next week

#honkai #honkai impact #honkai impact 3rd #hi3 #fu hua #BLOOD VOIVODE IS MINE

[clanlasombrasp]

One thing Erzebeth Basarab loved, even more than torture enemies, was a good blood bath...

In that we had similar tastes for about 300 years or so!

#RP #WOD #VTM #V20 #V5 #VDA #VVA #Lasombra #Tzimisce #Erzebeth Basarab #Voivode #Timisoara #Muse: Lawrence Shade #Muse: Cardinal Lorenzo D'Ombra #Sabbat #blood bath #Koldun Sorceress

[rastronomicals]

April 2:

On this date in 1987, the Quebecois pan-metal band Voivod released their third studio album, Killing Technology.

On this date in 1996, post-metal pioneers Neurosis released their fifth album, Through Silver In Blood .

On the 2nd of April, 2011, Der Blutharsch And The Infinite Church of The Leading Hand & Aluk Tolodo first presented A Collaboration, their yes-indeed-it-is-a-collaborative-album.

On this date in 2021, the anarchist postrock orchestral collective known as Godspeed You! Black Emperor released their seventh album, G_d's Pee AT STATE'S END! .

#Voivod #Killing Technology #Neurosis #Through Silver in Blood #Aluk Todolo #Der Blutharsch And The Infinite Church of The Leading Hand #Godspeed You! Black Emperor #G_d's Pee AT STATE'S END! #April 2

[autumnmobile12]

The Vampires in Castlevania

Vlad III Dracula Ţepeș (Impaler) was a real person.  He was a Wallachian voivode who was born sometime between 1429 and 1431, and he died in 1476.  The exact manner of his death has been lost to history, but the common belief is he was beheaded in battle and his head was sent to Sultan Mehmed II in Constantinople as proof of his death.

As for Bram Stoker’s Dracula, some historians are starting to doubt the prince was the actual inspiration for the famous vampire.  One of the reasons for this is Stoker was a very thorough note-taker, but none of his notes for writing Dracula mention Vlad III or any of his lifetime achievements/atrocities.  So it’s possible Stoker only chose the name ‘Dracula’ because he knew it translated as ‘son of the Devil.’  Further reading - Dracula: Sense and Nonsense by Elizabeth Miller.

Carmilla is the name of a lady vampire in the novella Carmilla by Sheridan le Fanu, a story that is actually older than Stoker’s novel.  It features a lesbian relationship between Carmilla and the protagonist, Laura, and was written as a criticism of the Victorian view of women, specifically repressed sexuality.

Varney also comes from a book.  Varney the Vampire or The Feast of Blood was a penny dreadful written by James Malcolm Rymer and Thomas Peckett Prest.  (I haven’t read this one all the way through, but there is a scene where Varney is struggling to get over a garden wall, and I think that’s hilarious.  Not exactly apex predator material.)

Varney:  You think you have me stymied, don’t you.

Trevor:  No, I think a garden wall has you stymied.

Lenore is the name of a German poem written by Gottfried August Bürger.  It’s about a woman named Lenore who curses God because her beloved did not come back from war, so Death kidnaps her to reunite them, effectively condemning her soul for eternity.  It’s not about a vampire, but the poem has had a hand in influencing vampire literature.

Anyway, does anyone else really want to see Lenore cheering Trevor on in the last battle?  Or stealing the knife and ending Death herself.  Cause I do now.

The closest thing to a vampire in Viking folklore is the draugr, although this creature is more of a restless ghost than what we think of as a vampire.  They haunt the graves of the dead and guard the treasures they acquired in life by driving humans insane, drinking their blood, eating their flesh, and other nasty things.

Side note:  I’m really curious as to what led Godbrand to becoming a vampire.  Immortality didn’t really play a huge factor in Old Norse culture since the Vikings believed a glorious death in battle was the one and only way to go to Valhalla.  Other deaths that were deemed shameful or unworthy landed you in Helheim, which I really need to address further in a separate post.

Japan also doesn’t have an exact vampire equivalent, but they do have some yokai spirits that have vampire-like characteristics, including but not limited to:

Nukekubi:  A flying head that detaches from its human body at night and attacks people to drink their blood.

Rokurokubi:  A similar creature to nukekubi except the head doesn’t detach but rather travels from the body via an elongated neck.

Nure-Onna:  The ‘drenched woman’ is a large serpent with the head of a woman that drinks blood.

Personally, I would have loved to see Cho’s head fly off to attack someone simply to see Sypha, Alucard, and Trevor briefly panic.

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #dracula castlevania #castlevania carmilla #lenore castlevania #godbrand castlevania #castlevania vampires #cho castlevania #varney castlevania #death castlevania #trevor belmont #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes #sypha belnades #norse mythology #viking vampires #japanese vampire #yokai #lgbtq+ books #sorta #bram stoker #sheridan le fanu #carmilla novella #dracula novel #draugr #penny dreadful #the big bang theory reference

[nandorelentlessdelacruz]

Parallels between Vlad, The Impaler and Nandor, The Relentless.

I'm watching a series on Netflix called “Rise of Empires. Otomman: Mehmed VS Vlad” and noticed some similarities in the history of the famous Vlad who inspired Count Dracula, coincidence or not.

Vlad III

Vlad was, in summary, a prince voivode, who grew as a prisoner in the turkish court of the ottoman empire. He was trusted to be the Wallachia's ruller, wich was his birth right. However, he later decided to ally himself with the enemies against the ottomans for Wallachia's freedom, since it was a vassal state.

Now, to give a context, Vlad was famous for having a dark and cruel personality, but was also extremely skilled with the sword and had a reputation for being a fierce warrior, like Nandor did.

He dared to go against Mehmed II, who at the time was not only the most powerful sultan in the East, but also a Vlad's childhood friend, since they grew up together, which made the war between them having a personal character. Vlad ignored the bonds and memories between them for his beliefs.

Now... Vlad grew in a society that was always at war trying to expand and normalized cruelty, this kind of fucked him up.

Nandor finds it difficult that even eternal mystical creatures like the Djinn don't understand his appeal for barbarism.

One of Vlad's control techniques was fear, his reputation for the exquisite torture methods gave him the title of Impaler and rumors that he drank from his enemies' blood. Vlad can be perceived as a monster, but in fact it was a very political strategy.

Such as Nandor, Vlad didn't accept any supplication; He didn't spared elderly, women or even children.

In his way of facing Mehmed, Vlad not only rebelled, but did it so arrogantly and disrespectfully, that it threatened Mehmed, the most fearsome personality for Europe, to gaining a fame as weak.

I remembered this passage watching the E01S05:

"The Impaler lord’s message to his childhood friend is written in the blood of thousands , “Come and get me”. That kind of disrespect was something that a ruler like Mehmed II could never forgive because in this kind of world, reputation is everyting”

These rules applied to Nandor, just as for Vlad and Mehmed, even if Al-Quolanudar it's fictional. Nandor may have distanced himself from the war mentality and have become soft and pathetic, but in his own way that will always be part of his identity.

Nandor can be soft in many ways, he can accept to be beaten, deceived, kidnapped, stolen and threatened with death. But what he cannot accept is a public humiliation that threatens his reputation. Perhaps another vampire may, like Deacon, but Deacon was no warfare.

To Nandor, this MUST be paid with death "What choice do I have?"

It made me think "Guillermo is really fucked".

Guillermo has seen many faces of Nandor, but I think this is the very first time he really saw The Relentless.

Only left to us to find out if Nandor's love for Guillermo can overcome his centenary pride, his own identity, in this path of violence.

But oh… There will be violence.

#wwdits #wwdits spoilers #wwdits s5 #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #nandermo #vlad the impaler

[snowxstormworld]

Jonerys Orgasmic October '23 - Master List

We are thrilled with the wonderful Jonerys Orgasmic October 2023 turnout and are grateful to all of you for reading, reblogging, and commenting. We're especially thankful for all of our participants; your creativity gave us a feast for the senses and made this the hottest, most satisfying Jonerys Orgasmic October yet!

Below is the master list for #JonerysOrgasmicOctober2023.

🔥 The Temptation by Voivode

🔥 Treat for your Eyes moodboard by Nikita_25

🔥 Corporate surprise by SaltyD3

🔥 Take me, I need you in my bloodstream by @miss-celestia13

🔥 Mr. Snow and the Principal by @rhaegarblackfire

🔥 black cat, long nights. by snowstormed

🔥 On all fours fanart by @emiliaclarkespersonalchair

🔥 Anal fanart by @emiliaclarkespersonalchair

🔥 Blue, Green, and Violet All Over by @littledancer9

🔥 Religion moodboard by @jupiterix

🔥 I want it to be hard by SaltyD3

👠 You're the King, baby I'm your Queen by @miss-celestia13

👠 Lingerie fanart by @emiliaclarkespersonalchair

💋 Teach me something by SaltyD3

💋 Home Sweet Daddy by @leesielex

💋 Public Sex fanart by @emiliaclarkespersonalchair

💋 Perfect for Me by @fierypen37

💋 The Rogue and the Fair by @rhaegarblackfire

💦 come and get a taste moodboard by @alwaysdaenerys

💦 JON GOES EAST fanart, fanedit by @evax3

💦 Our Secret by @libradoodle1

💦 The sweat in your eyes, the blood in your veins are listening to me by @miss-celestia13

💦 I am no bloody poet by SoloWingPie

💦 Tale of a Princess by @rhaegarblackfire

🍒 The Shadow Lover by Nikita_25

🍒 Do Me by Voivode

🍒 The Stranger by @moon-ruled-rising

🍒 a shadow for the splendor (let the profane tremble to ask) by @girlwithakiwi

🍒 Secret (Storeroom) Shenanigans by @jellybeanficwriter

🍒 wolf and flame by @magalidragon

🍒 Love has no age by @rhaegarblackfire

Edit credits go to @youwerenevermine

#jonerys #snowxstormworld #jonerysorgasmicoctober2023 #jonerys fanfic #jonerys moodboard #jonerys fanart #jon x dany #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #jonerys edit #jonerys fanfiction #jonerys mb #jon x daenerys

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Some Alucard from Hellsing NSFW hcs, please? (He's one of my favorite vampires and I just love him 😍)

You asked, and you shall receive~

N.S.F.W. under the cut!

He’s dominant and takes the lead by definition - He’s so used to his ways as a Voivode that he can’t do things any other way.

He’s more traditional, but with a little speck of the modern world and vampirism - He enjoys a bit of bondage, but would prefer taking his time with you, going cruelly slow and sensual until he hears you begging for his mercy.

He doesn’t want getting rough with you unless you ask, in fear of hurting you, and even then, he would be very careful not to do something bad with his vampiric strength.

It takes a shit ton of composure out of him to not bite your neck when he kisses you, but even if you allow him to take a taste of your sweet blood, stopping would be the most difficult thing he’s ever done in his life.

Alucard prefers being on top, he loves looking down at you and taking in the sweet imagine of you and all the expressions you make while he’s hitting all the right spots, but if you ever want to have your fun riding him, he wouldn’t deny you.

Don’t be afraid during oral, he knows very well not to mistakenly scratch you with his long fangs... But he has a long tongue that does absolute miracles, and you don’t need any religious figure to reach Heaven anymore.

He doesn’t talk much, and most sounds would be low grunts, but he’ll check on you frequently and make sure you’re okay and that he’s not being too much for you.

Alucard lives only for your pleasure - He’s old and doesn’t care much for his anymore - But yours is absolutely the most important.

When you’re done, Alucard would bring you to his chest and stroke your hair lovingly, whispering a soft ‘I love you’, when he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep.

#asmo time #hellsing imagine #hellsing x reader #hellsing ultimate #hellsing headcanons #hellsing #hellsing ultimate imagine #hellsing ultimate x reader #hellsing ultimate headcanons #alucard headcanons #alucard imagine #alucard x reader #Alucard

[autumnaaltonen]

Hello! Can I get some Alucard courting hcs, scenario, whatever tickles your fancy (fem reader if you do gendered). Basically you caught his many eyes and he is interested in making you his (lucky) s/o 💖

Thanks a bunch!

When I tell you how much I.love.this.trope. I could write an essay. Super powerful god-like beings being whipped for average joe(joni?) reader clears my skin and opens my third eye.

Rating: PG

Warnings: fem-reader, sorry gays and theys.

When you first walked into Alucard's un-life, you didn't exactly stand out. Sure, you were nice to look at, definitely a beauty in the eyes of this former 15th century Voivode, but you were still human.

Don't feel bad, mans is busy.

But the more time he spends around you, the greater concerned he becomes. Because "they fuck?" Since when did a human woman distract him so much?

Every time Integra is lecturing him or Walter is delivering missions details, you just so happen to be in the room, doing whatever it is you do (he never actually figured out your official position in Hellsing), and his focus is all on that cute ass of yours or the shine of your hair.

You know that meme where if you're wearing sunglasses, you can look where ever you want? Yeah, his eyes are lasered in on your tits 50% of the time.

But it doesn't take long for him to start falling for you on an emotional level as well.

When someone makes you laugh, it has his heart swelling like the bloody Grinch on Christmas. And if it's one of those snorty or cackle laughs? Even better. So precious. He wants to keep you in his coat pocket.

You love helping out around the manor, keeping the Hellsing cogs turning however way you can. Your dedication is so admirable, as Alucard has witnessed one too many humans wasting away in their chosen careers. But you approach every task, no matter how mundane, with a reasonable attitude and intent focus.

You were THE GIRL. If someone needed something done, they knew they could rely on you.

That's why, one day, you were asked to deliver Alucard's blood bags. You were admittedly terrified. You've heard rumours of the horrible pranks the No-Life King has played on other unsuspecting staff who made their way down the basement stairs.

But to your relief, he pulls no such tricks. He's actually quite welcoming?

This was the first time you two had officially spoken.

Alucard takes the time to ask you some questions as you pour the blood into a wine glass. Where were you from? What are your hobbies? Do you know how to handle a semi-automatic rifle? Trivial things like that.

By the time you finish your conversation, Alucard says he enjoyed speaking with you, and that he hopes he gets to pick your brain again soon.

You blush, making him inhale sharply as he resists the intense urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you.

From that day on: you say jump, he breaks the ceiling.

Integra, Walter and Seras all take note of how he listens to your every word like it's an orchestral symphony. Would they dare point it out? Heavens no. They've never seen the King of Vampires in such a good mood, even if it was only indicated by his undivided attention.

Having Alucard's full attention is a miracle in itself. He is FOCUSSED. He is DEDICATED.

By the time he finally makes a move on you, you have to ask, "what took you so long?"

Witty too? God, he loves you.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alucard x reader

[porlovistoeinmasochist]

References to Vlad III in Renfield (2023)

Vlad III Draculea was the voivode (a prince-like military leader) of Walachia—a principality that joined with Moldavia in 1859 to form Romania—on and off between 1448 and 1476. Also known as Vlad III, Vlad Dracula (son of the Dragon), and—most famously—Vlad the Impaler (Vlad Tepes in Romanian), he was a brutal, sadistic leader famous for torturing his foes. By some estimates he is responsible for the deaths of more than 80,000 people in his lifetime—a large percentage of them by impalement.

Walachia had been ravaged by the ceaseless Ottoman-Hungarian conflict and the internecine strife among feuding boyars. Trade had ceased, fields lay fallow, and the land was overrun by lawlessness. Vlad III began his reign with a strict crackdown on crime, employing a zero-tolerance policy for even minor offences, such as lying.

As for the boyars—the high-ranking figures who had killed his father and older brother— Vlad III had a retributive plan. In 1459 he invited 200 of them to a great Easter banquet, together with their families. There, he had the women and the elderly stabbed to death and impaled; the men he forced into slave labour. Many of these workers would die of exhaustion while building Poenari Castle, one of Vlad III’s favourite residences.

Many of the Germans under Vlad III’s aegis were Saxons. Not to be confused with the Anglo-Saxons of England, these were German migrants who had settled in Transylvania in the 12th century after the region was conquered by Hungary. They were mostly well-to-do merchants, but to Vlad III, they were allies of his enemies.

Over the next few years, Vlad III razed entire Saxon villages and impaled thousands of people. In 1459, when the Transylvanian Saxon city of Kronstadt (today Brasov) supported a rival of Vlad III’s, the voivode’s response was savage. After initially placing trade restrictions on Saxon goods in Walachia, he had 30,000 people impaled—and reportedly dined among them so he could witness their suffering personally. He also had Kronstadt burned to the ground. Back in Walachia, he impaled Saxon merchants who violated his trade laws.

Vlad III dines amid impaled victims following his assault on Brasov (then known as Kronstadt). Printed in Nuremberg in 1499, this engraving, and others like it, helped spread Vlad III’s gruesome reputation across Europe.

PHOTOGRAPH BY MARY EVANS, AGE FOTOSTOCK

Vlad III’s tactics, both on and off the battlefield, against the Turks were extraordinarily brutal. In the spring of 1462, Mehmed II assembled an army of 90,000 men and advanced on Walachia. After conducting a series of night raids and guerrilla warfare, Vlad III employed his trademark tactic, impaling more than 23,000 prisoners with their families and putting them on display along the enemy’s route, outside the city of Targoviste.“There were infants affixed to their mothers on the stakes,” writes the French historian Matei Cazacu, “and birds had made their nests in their entrails.”The sight was so horrifying that Mehmed II, after seeing the “forest” of the dead, turned around and marched back to Constantinople. Vlad III wrote to Matthias I explaining that he had “killed peasants, men and women, old and young . . . We killed 23,884 Turks, without counting those whom we burned in homes or the Turks whose heads were cut by our soldiers.” To prove the truth of his words, he produced sacks full of severed noses and ears.

(Text taken from https://www.nationalgeographic.co.uk/history-and-civilisation/2021/11/vlad-the-impalers-thirst-for-blood-was-an-inspiration-for-count-dracula)

#renfield #renfield 2023

[thewritersplace]

Writeblr Intro

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Hello, all!

My name is Kendra, and this is my writeblr introduction. It's a bit simple stylistically, but that's how I am. Now, onto the intro!

I'm currently twenty-six (will be twenty-seven in approximately five months), use she/her pronouns, and am an asexual, demiromantic, biromantic cisgender woman (may as well cover all the bases, right?). I was born and raised in Northern California, spent my undergraduate years in Oregon, and then returned to NorCal, where I still reside.

I have an MA in History, a BA in Religious Studies, and a double minor in History and Psychology.

I've been on this website for over a decade (via my main blog), and have been writing in general for almost fifteen years. I started out with original works, then discovered fanfiction, and worked solely on that for over a decade, before slowly venturing back into original works again. Nowadays, I write both concurrently, though I admittedly do still find fanfiction easier, and my original works often take a backseat to my fics. Yet, somehow, I've ended up with a (current) total of six WIPs — all of which I will introduce you to today.

It's been a long time since I've shared my original works with such a large audience, so I have some natural apprehension, but ultimately I'm looking forward to doing it again.

Now, without further ado, I present my WIPs!

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The Road To Eternity Is Paved With Blood (drafting)

Dracula's Daughter (outlining) (prequel/sequel to Road To Eternity)

The Wrath Of The Vampire Queen (outlining + drafting)

For The Love Of A Goddess (outlining)

The Other Side Of Paradise (outlining)

Red Thread Of Fate: Love In The Modern World (outlining + drafting)

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The Road To Eternity Is Paved With Blood is a Dracula retelling of sorts that was inspired largely by Hellsing, with other snippets of inspiration taken from Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) and Dracula Untold (2014). The story begins in the 1880s, and extends at the very least to the early 1900s. It follows the life and times of Rose Rowan, a beautiful noblewoman, and her relationship with her husband, Vlad Draculea (former Voivode of Wallachia, and member of the House of Drăculești), as they navigate eternity and a life of vampirism together. Her twin brother, Judas, is also featured prominently — as are his experiences with vampirism, which contrasts some with his sister's. Of course, as with every good Gothic novel, there is darkness to be found within this tale. Abraham Van Helsing and his ilk have made it their mission to bring about the end of Vlad Draculea, and anyone connected to him. The challenge in this quest, however, lies in said connections that Vlad has — namely Rose, who will stop at nothing to protect him from the infamous vampire hunter. She will have her fairytale ending, even if it has to be achieved through darker means. For while the road to hell may be paved with good intentions, the road to eternity is paved with blood.

🌹🌹🌹

Dracula's Daughter is a sequel/prequel to the above story, and focuses on Beáta, the daughter of Vlad from one of his late wives. She is also a vampire, and has been living for centuries, though largely on her own. She has lived many lives, and is a worldly young woman, though at the beginning of our story she has come home to Wallachia to see her father again after his most recent remarriage, and to meet his new wife. While she ultimately becomes fond of her new step-mother, she also has to contend with the sinister plotting of some of her father's immortal brides — namely The Queen — who would like nothing more than to rid Vlad of his new wife. Thinking herself as perhaps the only one who can bring peace and stability to the family, Beáta wrestles with who she should side with, or if she should side with anyone at all. There is more to her new step-mother than meets the eye, however, and Beáta soon finds that perhaps she is not as alone in this fight as she thought. In fact, for the first time in centuries, she has someone on her side who will fight with sharp claws and bloodied teeth to make sure such a conflict will never come to pass again.

🌹🌹🌹

The Wrath Of The Vampire Queen is a story somewhat inspired by Dracula Untold (2014), as well as the life and times of Vlad the Impaler. The tale begins in the mid-1400s, where Vlad Draculea and his wife, Senka Slavkov (born Deirdre Delacroix) are navigating the wars and politics of his reign. It then extends well into several of the following centuries, where Senka is still searching for her husband centuries after his disappearance (which occurs some years after his historically recorded death). Her brother, Didier Delacroix (who adopted the name 'Renatus' upon arriving in Wallachia), a dhampir, accompanies her in her search, as they are the only family each has left, and his connections with the Church and various religious organizations consistently prove vital to their search. Senka believes she knows exactly who took her husband — Hungarian and Turkish enemies from his mortal life, now vampires themselves. Didier, however, is not so certain, as some things don't add up. Still, they both believe that Vlad is out there somewhere, and will continue their search until they find him — be it alive or truly dead. If it is the latter, then there will be no saving his former captors from the wrath of Senka Slavkov, the vicious and vindictive Vampire Queen.

🌹🌹🌹

For The Love Of A Goddess is a story set in the present day, and follows two young women — Megara and Zarina — as they navigate their lives as best they can. These two women are the best of friends, and share in many things — including being chosen by two goddesses to be their mortal partners in this iteration of their immortal lives. Megara, a historian and religious studies scholar, caught the eye of Athena, who admired her intellect just as much as her beauty. Zarina, a librarian with a previous background in psychology, attracts the attention of Aphrodite, who finds her beauty to be dazzling, and the depth of her kindness and compassion to be a rare thing in such an egocentric world. While very happy with their respective partners, Megara and Zarina find that being with immortals comes with a variety of challenges — and not just the more obvious ones. Athena and Aphrodite are just two of an endless list of deities who are trying to survive in a growing atheist world, and if they lose this fight, they may very well disappear for good. Not wanting such a thing to occur, all four women come together to try and create a plan to prevent this disappearance from happening — though they face difficulties in the form of other various deities not wanting to band together to save each other from extinction. After all, immortals are just as egocentric as the mortals they so often think of themselves as better than, and much more difficult to persuade. Thus, the four women must not only enact a plan to prevent the extinction of various deities, but also contend with the fact that they may be the only ones in this fight. With time very much not on their side, this group of mortals and immortals must figure out a way to ensure that they do not lose this existential battle, and keep the existence of so many deities alive.

🌹🌹🌹

The Other Side Of Paradise is a retelling of Genesis in some ways, with the focus being on Lilith and Eve, rather than Adam and Eve. It begins in the Garden of Eden, with Eve pondering the idea of a world outside of the garden, and curiosity about her husband's alleged first wife, who had fled Eden long before Eve's creation. Eventually, Eve dared to venture to the edge of the garden, and it was there she saw Lilith. The two spoke over the wall, and met every day thereafter, eventually becoming friends. Lilith tried to get Eve to leave both Eden and Adam, but Eve was just the slightest bit apprehensive. Eventually, after tasting the forbidden fruit from the tree, Eve was expelled from the garden, and Lilith was there to greet her upon her exit. Eve, who was excited by the prospect of seeing the world, happily took Lilith's offered arm, and went off with her. The two spent many eons together, though not always in the same physical forms, as souls eventually begin to outlast bodies. In the present day, their souls have come to reside in the bodies of two young women who have never met, but are destined to find each other — as that is what souls do.

🌹🌹🌹

Red Thread Of Fate: Love In The Modern World is a story about two young women, Shu Nazhi and Zhou Xue Li, who live in similar yet vastly different worlds. Shu Nazhi is a businesswoman who runs her family's company with the help of her older brother, Hou Zhu Zhi, and younger sister, Shu Nuan. Zhou Xue Li is a model, actress, and singer, who is down on her luck when it comes to love. The two are introduced by a mutual friend (Nazhi's foster sister of sorts, and Xue Li's close friend) under the guise of Nazhi being Xue Li's new bodyguard, and become close over the course of Nazhi's assignment. After Nazhi finds herself falling for Xue Li, she turns in her letter of resignation, and then promptly asks Xue Li out upon the latter's acceptance of said letter. Xue Li, already secretly head-over-heels in love, happily accepts, and the two spend the day doing various activities throughout the city. The relationship, blissful as it is, also comes with the complications of things like paparazzi, work commitments, as well as their differing personalities and lifestyles. As the two women navigate these challenges, they begin to wonder about what it would have been like to love each other in a different time, and if they ever did — for they know that the red thread of fate works in mysterious ways, and that some souls are always destined to find each other.

(Disclaimer: Zhou Xue Li was created by/belongs to @bwaldorf, who was kind enough to allow me to use her in my story)

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Tagging @bwaldorf, @veneritia, @helioselene, @moariin, @thewinterwitcher, @socialmediasocrates, @lasbrumas

(Please ask to be added or removed from the taglist)

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#writeblr intro #wtwcommunity

[budapestbug]

Dracula in Hungary Bram Stoker’s Dracula, published in 1897,pictures a cruel vampire’s story, but many people who have read the book are not aware that the character Dracula the vampire is based on was a highborn member of a Romanian court, prominent in European history — and much more terrifying than his fictional descendant.Prince Vlad, or as he was called even in his own time, Dracula (which means “Son of the Dragon”) tops the list of Romania’s many, many Christian crusaders who, in the transition years between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.He ruled his military kingdom of Wallachia — southern Romania — with a heavy and blood-soaked fist. A pamphlet published in Nuremburg, Germany, immediately following his death in 1476, tells of his burning beggars after allowing them free food at his court. “He felt they were eating the people’s food for nothing, and could not repay it,” the broadside explains. And there are countless of other tales of Dracula’s wickedness written down ages ago. But, Vlad Dracula was more than just a medieval despot,He was a politician; a voivode (warrior); an erudite and well-learned gentleman when the occasion-to-be fit; and, as has been indicated, he was a mass murderer. He spoke several languages — Romanian, Turkish, Latin and German — and steeped himself in the use of broadsword and crossbow. He was an equestrian, riding at the head of his attacking army like a Berskerker. The adventurous life led by Dracula put him in contact with the era’s most fascinating people, among them “White Knight” Jonas Hunyadi, Hungarian King Matthias Corvinus, who imprisoned him in the Salamon Tower of the Visegrád Castle between 1462 and 1474, but was then returned to his rank. 

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7Júlia Koleszár, Luis Magaña and 5 others

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

— in which Vlad Dracula is graced with the most delightful news.

word count: 3,641 words

warnings: implied/referenced miscarriage; pregnancy; pregnancy sickness; extra dosis of love and tenderness

a/n: Here, beloveds, have a sweet (and absolutely not self-indulgent, nooooo never) moment of pure bliss and happiness before I throw that man into more pain and misery and blood and— Also, expect a man madly in love — it is Cătălina’s world, and Vlad is just blessed to be living in it.

➨ also available on AO3

September 1459, Curtea Noua, București, Wallachia

The hall overflows with the warm glow of candlelight and joyful, lively music, mingling with the enticing aroma of roasted meat and the echoes of sincere and profound laughter. Among the voivode’s dear and cherished guests indulging in the joyous celebration of the construction of the New Voivodal Court in București, her laughter stands out the most, pure and resplendent, like a celestial bell tolling in the very heart of the hall. Cătălina has yet to reach the age of twenty-eight, and her spirit still brims with life like a flower in full bloom, radiating beauty and grace from every petal. In the ambience of the youthful night, the meticulously crafted façade upon her countenance slips away amidst the unbridled merriment, momentarily unveiling the face of a carefree nymph whom she has long come to deem a distant memory.

She has deliberately chosen to avoid the ever-present curious eyes at the court, recognising its virtue for both her and Vlad’s sake. The seclusion of her home, where she often remains, allows her to weave at least some poor semblance of a veil of privacy to shield both herself and their son. It is for the best, she always reasons with herself, for her presence provokes many and she has never been one to silence her voice. But within the chambers of her home, she sometimes feels as though she has become a rare jewel locked within the confines of the treasury — precious enough to return to look at but safely hidden from the insatiable hunger of prying eyes, always patiently awaiting someone to brush off the dust from her.

She is well aware that ingratitude should not consume her as a torrent of stern admonitions floods her mind whenever her thoughts stray into this despised realm of sentiments. This is the path she has consciously and willingly chosen for herself. This is the life of a royal mistress, laden with sacrifices she has long anticipated would be demanded of her. It bestows upon her liberty and power that only a few chosen women in existence will ever graze their fingertips upon. It eases her existence, as well as his; it makes their son’s life tranquil. Safer. More secure.

Nonetheless, in these scarce but all the more cherished moments, she revels in the company of those dear to her, once again becoming a woman of flesh and bones who savours the sweet taste of freedom that holds such profound importance in her heart. Tonight, she is engulfed in a place of boundless liberation, where obligations and duties fade into oblivion. The tumultuous world outside becomes a distant murmur, drowned by the enchanting melody of kindred spirits. Embraced by the radiant glow of innumerable flickering candles, she glides across the floor with effortless grace in perfect synchrony with the vibrant melody that permeates the space all around her.

When she pauses and brings the cup of red wine to her lips, different sounds abruptly pierce through the air — the resonant and deep voices of the men standing by her side as they heartily engage in conversation. In an instant, the enchantment of the moment dissipates like a golden mist fading before her eyes as the matter-of-fact nature of their words shatters the carefree atmosphere. The spell that held her captive is broken; her brother’s voice gains clarity, his words gradually becoming more distinct with each passing second as if she ascended from the depths of clouded waters to the surface.

“—although we ought to reconsider the decisions regarding the archers you have recently recruited.”

Amidst the whimsical musings and daydreams that capture the minds of others, her elder sibling has always stood rooted to the earth, unwavering and resolute. There is no room for idle fantasies, for fleeting thoughts of what could possibly take place under different circumstances; for Dumitru, the realm of reality and practicality reigns supreme, and few matters possess the power to divert his focus from the tasks at hand and the meticulous plans for the future. His sister might have initially helped secure his position, but Dumitru has become indispensable among the dregătorii, revered for qualities unique to no one but him.

“What is the issue with them? They are competent soldiers,” Neagoe’s dark eyebrows ascend in incredulity, and a hint of agitation tinges his voice with a sharpness that cuts through the air like a blade.

Dracea roughly hits the dark-haired spătar on the shoulder, his mirth dancing mischievously in the air. “A blind man would shoot better than them.”

“No!” Cătălina cries out and places a hand delicately over her heart in feigned distress, halting their conversation in an instant. “I do not want to hear a thing about state affairs this evening. This is meant to be a night of enjoyment! Anything else can wait until tomorrow; surely the land will not crumble in a single day.”

Cătălina’s gaze momentarily strays away from the festivities and the smiling faces of the three men in front of her, settling upon Vlad across the room. Her eyes trace the contours of his muscular back accentuated by the richness of his green attire, long black curls gracefully cascading down between his broad shoulders. Engrossed in conversation with some of his dregătorii, he leans forward, intent on catching every uttered word amidst the noise of merriment enveloping them.

In that fleeting moment, it appears as though he remains oblivious to the world unfolding around him. With his back turned to all others, she does not doubt that the subtle delights of the evening indeed elude him, slipping through his grasp like the wind.

“Or has he truly infected all of you with his inclination to work even in his sleep?” Her words, gentle like a spring breeze, carry a subtle touch of melancholy, intertwining with the flimsy threads of sadness delicately woven into the slope of her brows.

And Dracea — for his heart shatters whenever he notices even a mere hint of sorrow on that angelic face of dreams — enfolds her in his embrace and whirls her with a speed that mirrors the cadence of the lively melody. Her laughter, before so joyous and resplendent, now rings hollow as she clutches the cup in her fingers, afraid to spill the crimson liquid.

“What is that frown, my lady? Do we bore you with our discussions?” he asks heartily.

“Impossible. There is never a dull moment with you, Dracea.”

“There is something heavy on your mind. I can tell,” he inquires as the amusement in his voice turns to gentle concern, the embrace of his protective figure shielding her from the eyes around and offering her a brief shelter for composure. Sweet Dracea, always being the selfless and devoted protector.

A profound heaviness indeed burdens her mind, causing her stomach to twist and churn with silent anguish. Cătălina is a woman who has been tested by a fair share of life’s trials, yet now feels weakened by worries. No longer free to live and breathe for herself, she must decide for two, making her the most vulnerable of all — a mother bound by love’s delicate threads intertwined with her own existence. For weeks, she has been awakening with worries each morning, praying fervently for smooth, uncomplicated days ahead. She frets over the uncertainty of the future, but above all, she fears that the delights and anticipations of life may slip away from him unnoticed. The more he thrives as a ruler, the more he suffers as a man, the words hover on the tip of her tongue, dancing on the precipice of her lips, but she swallows them like bitter liquid, denying them their flight into the world beyond her mouth.

Instead, she presents her companion with a fragile smile. “All is well.”

“You are aware that he cannot take his eyes off you, are you not? He keeps stealing glances any chance he gets.”

“That is the least of my worries—”

Before she has a chance to finish her sentence, he spins her once more, spins her with a force that sweeps away her worries and ignites a symphony of laughter flowing from her lips like a cascade of joyous notes, echoing through the air and painting the world with the vibrant hues of delight. But in moments of joyful recklessness, when fits of heartfelt laughter make her chest constrict and ache, and her cheeks turn red with exertion, the new reality suddenly whispers its presence and brings her to a halt.

An unexpected unease unfurls within her like a stealthy intruder, concealed in the depths of her being. The unforeseen surge further disrupts the serenity inside, and a fragile tremor courses through her, a subtle response to the unwelcome presence clawing at her guts from within.

Her stomach churns and twists into hardness that lodges deep inside her as though she carries a weighty stone at its core. Cold sweat coats her body, drenching her skin like an icy deluge that has been poured upon her, and droplets of perspiration start cascading down the curve of her spine. Her hands, clammy and slick, tremble with the fear that the cup may slip from her grasp and clatter upon the stone beneath her feet. With every passing second, her grip on the small piece of metal tightens, becoming unyielding, her sole anchor amidst a world that spins and slowly dissolves into darkness.

The customary warmth of her complexion momentarily wanes, surrendering to undulating waves of nausea in a sickly shade of green as she clings to Dracea’s sleeve, yearning to break free from his embrace. Her gaze frantically searches for solace in the weighty doors that lead to the outside world. Her breath falters, grappling against the tide, while her rapid heartbeat echoes the rising panic filling her veins. The anticipation of fresh air consumes her thoughts as she feebly pushes the tall nobleman aside and thrusts the wine cup into his awaiting hand.

“Are you feeling well?” his voice is laden with worry.

“Do excuse me for a moment,” she barely manages to squeeze out as she hastens her steps towards the doors, the sickness weighing down her feet like lead.

As she stumbles out of the hall, her brother’s voice calls after her, filled with concern. “Cătălina—”

His voice is swallowed by the growing distance as she takes a swift turn to the right and runs outside beneath the shadow of the imposing stone arc, escaping the fiery inferno that the hall has become. She barely holds herself together as she descends the three broad steps leading from the grand residence before her sight blurries and her knees give way, almost bringing her crashing to the ground. She fears her stomach turning upside down may unleash the torrent and make her vomit in a wave of sickness. The world around her sways as she succumbs to the pull of weariness, her body seeking respite from the overwhelming storm within.

Sit. Sit. Sit.

Finally, Cătălina sinks to the cold ground, pressing her back against the stone wall to steady her weakened body. She draws her knees to her chest in a manner her small son tends to do and hugs her bent legs, damp and trembling fingers clinging to the richly embroidered skirt of her dress. The crown of her head leans back and rests against the sturdiness of the wall behind her. That seems to bring some relief — her vision begins to clear, her guts no longer feel like being swayed back and forth. The frantic pounding in her ribcage subsides.

The freshness of the late September breeze soothes her senses, offering respite from the sickness raging inside her. With each inhalation, she gulps on the air as if it were her first breath in this world, savouring the way it seems to cool her from within. The rhythmic drumming in her ears gives way to the muffled sounds of revelries emanating from inside the hall, the laughter of dozens of guests mingling with the ceaseless melodies of music. The life carries on without her, and she is grateful for it. She longs to be separated from it, if only for a brief moment, to exist in solitude, undisturbed, with only the starry skies above and the gentle breeze caressing her damp skin as her sole companions.

Her moment of solitude is shattered like delicate glass as the thunderous rhythm of heavy boots reverberates on the stone steps. From the corner of her eye, Cătălina catches a glimpse of a green giubea glimmering in the soft glow of the lit torches. She remains hidden in the shadows, her presence concealed from the light, silently observing his frantic quest to find her. He searches in every direction, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings with the meticulous precision of a soldier scanning the fields of battle. When he calls her name, and she discerns the subtle tinge of growing alarm lacing his voice, she leans forward instinctively and extends her arm towards him.

“I am here,” she says, astonishing herself with the fragility and weariness in her voice.

Vlad, without a moment’s hesitation, rushes towards her, dropping to his knees by her side. With tender urgency, he clasps her open palm in his, his other hand gently caressing the side of her face. His calloused fingers trace a path over her cheek, all while his emerald orbs explore her figure with deep concern, searching for any signs of harm or wounds. “What is the matter, my love?”

“It seems that our new acquaintance shares your penchant for making a grand appearance.”

“What acquaintance?” he asks quizzically, confused eyes searching hers for the hidden secrets behind her words.

In the midst of his overwhelming fear, his usually razor-sharp mind becomes muddled by the myriad of scattered thoughts and is unable to comprehend the nuanced hints that surround him. Consumed by alarm, he remains completely unaware of the subtle movement of her palm that she lays over her stomach, a gesture filled with an unwavering sense of protection and boundless love. It is only in the gentle caress of her hand on his chin that he finds his way back to Cătălina’s presence, captivated by the endearing curve of her lips. Memories flood his mind, for he well remembers that smile — he is reminiscent of the time she first revealed to him she was expecting their son, her smile radiating with a brilliance that defied any attempts at concealment. And now, in this moment, her face is just as resplendent, unadulterated joy dancing upon her lips.

“Vlad,” soft laughter escapes her lips, and her words confirm all of his assumptions with resolute finality. “I am with child.”

In a sudden whirlwind of motion, she loses track of how he pulls them both to their feet as seconds flash by in a kaleidoscope of colours. She only comes back to her senses when she finds herself suspended in the sky, with a canopy of stars above her head. Vlad’s strong and unwavering arms hold her above the ground by her waist, and a yelp of surprise escapes her lips, melting into peals of joyous laughter that fill the air. Her fingertips sink into his shoulders, anchoring her in the heights and preventing them from toppling into the earth below.

“Is that true? Is that true?” he cries out with unbridled excitement, and her gaze drifts towards the towering doors, anticipating the intensity of his voice to awaken the curiosity of every soul within the court.

“Would I ever lie about such things?”

He playfully shakes her as a cascade of laughter spills from his lips, clasping her tightly in his arms, and she responds with an infectious and ecstatic squeal, a melody of amusement and delight that dances through the air around them. “Put me down! I will be sick again.”

Vlad, a man of impulsive nature yet never careless, would never dare inflict harm upon her, and so he carefully and lovingly lowers her body to the ground, ensuring that every ounce of her is cradled securely in his strong and protective arms. With utmost tenderness, he gently cups Cătălina’s beautiful face in his hands, cherishing every moment of this intimate connection — he cannot tear his gaze away from the graceful arch of her brows, the delicate sprinkle of freckles adorning the bridge of her nose like the shimmering constellations painting the night sky above them. The subtle curve of her cupid’s bow guides him unerringly to her lush lips, a pathway to a world of infinite pleasure. Their lips meet in a sweet and gentle kiss, and she can taste the red wine lingering on his tongue. In that moment, she wonders if this is what home can also taste like, a fusion of warmth and familiarity that caresses her senses and leaves her longing for more.

It is she who withdraws first, her hands resting gently upon his chest. A tangled web of thoughts and emotions engulfs her mind, making it difficult to unravel the words, arrange them in a coherent tapestry of meaning. But she wants to try, must find a way. In this sacred space they share, where masks are cast aside from their faces, they have promised honesty to one another — life is already entangled in deceit enough as it is. No need to weigh these treasured and scarce moments of privacy with lies. And so she labours, shaping the unspoken truths that dwell within her soul, words that hold the weight of vulnerability.

Cătălina seeks solace in the steady rise and fall of his chest, her gaze drifting beyond his shoulder and into the abyss of darkness to avoid looking directly into his eyes. “I have been meaning to wait a little longer before telling you.”

“Why?” he asks, sincerity in his voice, and she feels the bitter taste of bile rise in her throat like a venomous serpent slithering upward.

“What if it ends in disaster? Again?”

She senses the fleeting shadow that crosses Vlad’s face, a reflection of the memories from two years past that have haunted her since discovering her pregnancy. A ghost from the past whispers in his thoughts, intertwining with her own — he remembers, too, remembers the crimson pools of blood staining the pristine white linen bedsheets, the chilling embrace of Death inching closer, its skeletal fingers poised to encircle her delicate throat. Her face, as pale as a spectral apparition; legs curled up to her chest in anguish when she sought solace in the tear-soaked pillows.

But those were also days of great turmoil and pressure, and despite reasoning with himself that a stillbirth was often an inexplicable occurrence of nature, he could not shake off the weight of his own culpability. He recalls being pulled in countless directions those days, needing to be present in a thousand places all at once — at court, in council, on the battlefield — not finding himself nearly enough on the threshold of her house, a place he swiftly grew to call home. Days would pass before he held her in his arms again, their son nestled between them like a tender bud.

He entangled her in the ceaseless stress with him, hoping she would bear its weight upon her shoulders alone. He will not let that happen again.

“It will not,” Vlad utters with unwavering conviction, his voice a gentle caress as he places a tender kiss upon her forehead.

“You cannot know that.”

“But we have more experience now than we did back then. Even more than we did four years ago.”

He catches the flicker of hesitation in her brown eyes and offers another tender reassurance, “I will keep your condition a secret until you feel prepared and at ease. No one is required to know.”

That seems to help, for Cătălina’s anxious frown is replaced by a radiant smile. Like the sun breaking through storm clouds, her countenance transforms, illuminated by the warmth of his words. She nods swiftly while his hands envelop hers, remaining unmoving on his chest, their fingers intertwining like vines.

She tilts her head towards the heavy doors and the bustle of the evening behind them. “You should return. Your guests are waiting for you.”

“They would not notice my absence. Half of them are already drunk.”

But his protests are in vain as she spins him around, her hand gently pressing into the small of his back. “It is your night, my love. Enjoy it.”

“And you?”

“I am going to lie down.”

“Then I shall see you later,” Vlad murmurs against her cheek, his lips grazing her skin in a tender kiss before reluctantly pulling away. But he lingers, his footsteps dragging as if he is tethered to her by an invisible thread.

With a gentle, yet insistent push, she silently urges him to depart, a soundless command dancing upon the curve of her lips. Only then does he finally yield, hesitantly walking away. He runs up the steps with a spring in his step, bursting into the illuminated space. His arms outstretch in a gesture of apology as he is engulfed by the figures of guests encircling him, concealing him from her sight like a fleeting vision fading into the embrace of the night.

From her spot in the darkness of the night, Cătălina watches him disappear, and an odd sense of serenity envelops her, like a gentle tide that cleanses her soul of the fears and worries that besieged her mind mere moments ago. The joys of life would never elude him, not if he could help it. The weight of the land could crumble upon his weary back and crush him, yet he would persistently claw his way back to their embrace.

In the depths of her heart, that devotion is all the assurance she needs.

This piece is a genuine labour of love, and it was exciting to portray Vlad not only as the legendary warrior and ruler but place him into a tender moment of sheer humanity, showing him in the role of a lover and father. There is also something very endearing in taking the focus away from what other people mean in his life and instead putting it on how others perceive him in theirs. This is also my very first time introducing four very crucial characters in Vlad’s story, but especially Cătălina, Vlad’s mistress and the mother of his children — I hope you will love her as much as I (and Vlad!) do.

Of course, explanations and references are below:

The newly constructed royal residence mentioned in this piece is now known as Curtea Veche (the Old Court) in the heart of Bucharest, but because it is mentioned as just finished palace, I have decided to call it Curtea Noua (the New Court) instead. The official residence of the voivode remained at the capital, Târgoviște, at that time, so this just serves to differentiate between the two palaces. Vlad ordered its construction at the beginning of his second reign, and it was finished in 1459. On September 20, 1459, he issued a document in Slavonic, specifically referring to the “fortress” in Bucharest as his “princely residence”. Other documents were issued here in 1460 and 1461. It was quite a modern building in the Renaissance style — I recommend looking at the digital reconstruction pictures online.

Cătălina is based on a real-life person, though I have taken the opportunity of using artistic liberty to truly craft her character from scratch and flesh her out to be as multi-dimensional and complex as Vlad is (and trust me, she is quite a character) — this is because we know virtually nothing about her. What we know about the real-life mistress is that she was from a Wallachian noble family and is the only mistress we know of (which means Vlad was either a very faithful lover or very protective of his privacy). She was also a mother of Vlad’s son Mihnea and later married quite an influential man when Vlad was taken prisoner. (For those who do not know, I am not mentioning the man’s name as I do not want to drop the big spoilers! 🤫)

Yes, a pregnant woman is drinking wine in this piece. In moderation, she only takes a sip! People living in the 15th century were not aware of the damaging effects of consuming alcohol during pregnancy (but the baby will turn out healthy and strong, don’t worry). This is one of the things that seems incomprehensible to us today but was considered normal back in history.

As for the little Dracs with Miss Cătălina, you have noticed several mentions of a mysterious, already living son throughout the work. I am taking a bit more liberties with Vlad’s children, mostly because I was desperate to see him dipping his toes into the role of a parent a bit sooner than he (probably) did in real life — I hope I will be forgiven there! But fear not because yours truly is certainly not forgetting to mention the most famous of Dracula’s sons, the future Voivode Mihnea, who is the source of the happy news in this piece. Historical sources mention his year of birth to be somewhere between 1460-1462, with the majority leaning towards the latter year. I have chosen the year 1460 in my works simply to allow my fictionalised version of Vlad to enjoy some time with Mihnea before he is snatched away from his family for thirteen years. As for the mysterious elder son whom I have decided to name Mircea, he is mostly a fictional character (Mihnea was officially the eldest in real life), though I am using some bits from the little information and speculation we have about other sons. More about him soon!

Dregătorii were the boyars forming the voivode’s council. It was the group of most powerful men in the country, right after the ruler, and each held an important office at the court. You can see three dregătorii mentioned by name in this piece, two of whom really existed (Neagoe Craiovescu and Dracea de Măneşti) and one of whom is fictional (Dumitru Costescu, Cătălina’s elder brother). Neagoe is also mentioned in the story by the office title of spătar, the commander second in rank in the army after the voivode.

Giubea was a long and wide coat, often lined with fur, worn in the past by nobility.

#vlad dracula #vlad drăculea #vlad tepes #vlad ţepeş #vlad the impaler #cătălina costescu #neagoe craiovescu #dracea de măneşti #dumitru costescu #mihnea the evil #mihnea cel rău #historical fiction

[slavghoul]

Tobias Forge‘s t-shirts, part 3

»  Part 1

»  Part 2

Found some time in the day to get back to this series, so let’s go

Entombed – this is an original 1989 shirt originally available from the band via mail order along with their demo ‘Drowned.’ The frontman of Entombed was the late LG Petrov, if you’re interested Tobias once wrote an article for Sweden Rock Magazine where he reminisced about Petrov & his other band, Morbid  

Iron Maiden – 1982 shirt from The Number of the Beast world tour 82-83, on the back has a list of countries which were part of the tour

Iron Maiden – Purgatory, featuring cover artwork from the single under the same name, shirt is from the early 80s probably sold on the 1981 Killers tour

Celtic Frost – To Mega Therion, the cover art is a 1977 painting by H. R. Geiger titled “Satan I” picturing Satan holding the crucified Jesus in one hand and a string with a host wafer in the other. Pretty eye-catching.

King Diamond – shirt from the 1987 European tour, has tour dates on the back and a giant text saying ‘Stay Heavy’

King Diamond – this is a pretty rare shirt also from 1987 from the day King played in Gothenburg, Sweden made specifically for that occasion

King Diamond – same image as above but this one comes from the 1986 US tour  

Kreator – from the 1987 Terrible Certainty Tour where they toured their third album under the same name. A great record, personally my favorite from Kreator. Check out the cover for it, looks familiar :)

Kreator/Voivod – from the 1987 joint Kreator and Voivod tour in Europe

Merciless – featuring cover of their first album The Awakening, the painting they used for the cover is ‘The Vision of the Valley of the Dry Bones’ by Gustave Dore

Mercyful Fate – classic Melissa shirt, featuring art from Mercyful Fate’s 1983 debut album, a huge influence for Ghost but also many other metal bands - both then and now

Mercyful Fate – Don’t Break the Oath, from the 1984/1985 US tour

Morbid Angel – Blasphemy, from 1991, Tobias cut off the sleeves on it; on the back there are lyrics to the song Blasphemy of the Holy Ghost, also known as Blasphemy

Morbid Angel – featuring cover of their debut album Altars of Madness, considered by many as one of the first death metal records ever made, alongside such other greats as Possessed’s Seven Churches and Death’s Scream Bloody Gore

Metallica – from the 1988 Justice tour, featuring art by Pushead of course and the line ‘Their money tips her scales again’ from the song And Justice For All

Metallica – Metal Up Your Ass, featuring Metallica’s 1982 demo; the name and the cover was to be used for their first album as well, however the label did not let them use it (turns out labels always sucked huh). The story goes that in answer to that a pissed off Cliff once said "I hate the managers. Let's just kill ‘em all”.. and that’s how the new title was born :)

Misfits – featuring the classic Crimson Ghost face of course. Crimson Ghost is an actual character from a 1946 series under the same name, Misfits simply made use of its likeness for one of their releases but with time it became the band’s mascot and logo

Misfits – with back cover art of the album Earth A.D./Wolfs Blood from 1983, their last one featuring Glenn Danzig

Misfits – featuring art by Pushead, you can also see it on the back cover of ‘Die Die My Darling’

Onkel Kånkel – the Swedish punk rock band Tobias shortly toured with in his early twenties. The text says “Sug min rock’n’roll penis” which translates to ‘Suck my rock’n’roll penis.’ He actually still has the shirt, I saw him wearing it not that long ago.

#tobias forge #trivia

[moorishflower]

WIP word search game!

Okay! I was tagged by @dsudis!

My words are: blue, deep, walk, sky, down, heal

blue: (from the unnamed Hallmark-Adjacent sequel)

If Morpheus is honest with himself – and he has been attempting, within the last three months, to be more honest with himself – the moment that he considered Robert Gadling a viable husband was the very instant he had seen him bathed in the lights of Trafalgar Square, in a dozen different shades of blue and white and soft golden from the surrounding buildings and with his hair pulled back into a bun, as though he had done so out of habit just before he had left his flat.

deep: (from an unnamed vampire!Dream WIP that's been languishing until I get into vampires again)

His stranger turns to look at him, and it pulls his face into deep shadow. Hob can only see the white curve of his throat, a tempting peek of collarbone. His face is obscured in darkness, with only those two bright points of witchlight to mark where his gaze falls. “I have had many names,” he says. Each word is slow and purposeful, as if it is being pulled from a sleeptalker. “Morpheus. Oneiros. Draculea. More, still. I was called the shaper of forms, once. Voivode, and Lord, and King. My true name is older.”

heal: (from an Edgin/Xenk canon divergence AU set 4 years prior to the movie)

"I can heal myself," the paladin says placidly, and then makes absolutely no effort to do so while Ed pours a thin stream of icy water over the slash on his cheek. It's not as bad once all the blood's cleared away -- he can't see clear through to teeth at least -- and that only leaves him with addressing the actual problem, which is the shoulder injury. Ed stares at the guy's pauldrons, wondering where in the Nine Hells he even starts.

walk: (from a yet-unposted bit of Little Histories)

"I am ambivalent about the nature of food served from a truck," Dream says. He still feels somewhat slow and muddled, but the walk is pleasant. Humans need movement, Hob has informed him. It is part of the development of their infants, and most enjoy it well after their childhood, as well. There is something pleasant about utilising his muscles; in the moment, he wonders why it had been so hard to rouse himself yesterday.

sky: (from the same Edgin/Xenk fic)

The opportunity comes just as the sun is beginning to get dangerously low in the sky and the nightlife of Luskan -- skullduggery, alleyway knifing, pickpocketing and the like -- is kicking into high gear, when a man on a horse as white as the driven snow turns away from the Southern Gate and keeps right on riding towards Mirabar.

down: (unnamed Johanna/Lucifer fic)

The demon darts forward, too bloody fast for a woman who's spent most of the evening getting fantastically drunk after ousting a fucking poltergeist from an attic, and knocks the crucifix from her hands. Jo responds by yanking out the vial of holy water she keeps in her bra and dumping it directly down the demon's cleavage. She suspects she only manages this because the demon was too distracted by trying to figure out why she was fumbling in her bra to begin with, but that's to her benefit, so she counts it as a win.

And I will taaaaag... @avelera (show me the secret drafts of Joke's On You!!!), @landwriter, @softest-punk, @beatnikfreakiswriting and anyone else who'd like to play <3

Your words are: invite, bleed, lonely, glance, small, curve

#wip ask meme

[shouta-edits]

Playlist for Sombra with Thrash Metal songs?

#overwatch #playlist #thrash metal #sombra #anti harassment #proship #proship safe #request fill #proship edit blog #[assignment passed back... /requested finished] #proshippers please interact #antis dni #hate will be blocked

[jingszo]

The legendary figure's official title was Vlad III, Voivode of Wallachia, and he lived in the southern region of Romania in the mid-1400s. Of course, there's no evidence that Vlad III was a vampire, but he was feared for his ruthlessness.

Some estimates place his death toll at over 80,000 people, many dying by impalement, earning him his nickname.

He was also referred to as Vlad Drăculea, translating to "the son of the dragon," which many believe inspired the eponymous character from the novel Dracula.

The researchers say that the data they acquired, although not exhaustive, suggest that Vlad could have suffered from respiratory issues, and potentially even a condition called hemolacria, which would have caused him to cry tears of blood — quite fitting for such a spooky character.

Other proteins identified by the team indicate that he could have been exposed to certain, plague-related bacteria or even pesky fruit flies.

#Vlad The Impaler #Dracula #disease #research