#behead the monarch

[the-meme-monarch]

"fathers will do anything except go to therapy" factoid actually just clerical error, fathers consider 'making their daughter(s) a captive audience to listen to their problems the moment they're old enough to comprehend what 'a problem' is, to be therapy

[lee-lee-la]

Happy president's day!! <3

[cinnamonest]

hope u and your loved ones are okay :( wishing you and everyone affected the best ❤️

Sorry for the delay in responses and posting, I was in the hospital (again) (and unrelated to the flood, just an issue that hadn't subsided from the last visit last week).

If you have money to give I would very much prefer it go to the people who need it much more than I ever could, there's donation links here.

To be honest I am not okay on a psychological level. The whole thing has me so angry.

Now that I'm back to normal and out and about, I've heard so many horror stories from the grapevine. So many people are missing, and at this point families are having to accept that missing people aren't coming back if they haven't already.

The financial aid is a disgrace, and as aforementioned, the FEMA people are impeding help and otherwise just loafing around. We just want them gone.

Then as for the two people whose literal job is caring for this country — POTUS said like a day after the incident, on camera, "they're happy, they've gotten everything they need" while we still had people dying of dehydration on their rooftops and countless families left homeless.

Harris showed up, took a publicity photoshoot holding some donation items, then left to go drink beer on an uppity talk show like she's channelling the spirit of Nero himself.

This has been one of the most grotesque acts of US presidential negligence and dishonesty in some time, and once more of these people start getting internet access again I have no doubt a lot more will be exposed.

Now the people are just left to pick up the pieces by themselves and start over. The media has largely moved on already, and every major news outlet has drastically downplayed just how bad the destruction is. Some people on social media are celebrating it. I had to unsubscribe from an environment conservation group I followed because they published a newsletter literally lying about FEMA. It all feels so deliberate.

Bush was dragged through the mud for the rest of his career for his response to Katrina in 2005, yet he did far more and responded far more quickly. Our current leaders can wait 48 hours to acknowledge the situation, do essentially nothing, and no one seems to care, no one is holding them accountable.

I'm just very angry and having trouble moving on with life. Those two have already brought so much suffering to my community the past few years, then this happens and they can't even do a good job of pretending to care.

And I can't really do anything about any of it, which makes it worse, it festers. This bitterness is a feeling I would not wish on anyone.

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

Very emotional scene, but all I can think about is how badly I want this outfit

You can even run and ride horses in it!

[weezerlvr228]

evil brian…

[coreancitizen]

"I wanted to stop beheading people." "Go ahead and try me." Offers her neck, which leads Gon to plant a soft kiss on it. "Hey, that's—" "I'm sure I told you that you could be beheaded for addressing me like that." "Stop being ridiculous."

[kazz-brekker]

accidentally derailed dinner preparations for several minutes tonight by reading sir walter raleigh's wikipedia page out loud to my sister while she was supposed to be making a frittata and startling her so much with the revelation that he was beheaded on the orders of king james that she forgot to preheat the oven

[amalgamationillustration]

My neurodivergent ass wants to wear headphones like this all the time but my also neurodivergent ass hates not being aware of my surroundings 24/7 in case there's a noise like the cat getting stuck somewhere or my partner falling in the shower or someone breaking in or if I'm outdoors someone following me or calling me or doing something suspicious. I want to block out all external noise and enjoy my silly little me time in my music or podcast world but I also don't want to leave myself open to not hearing danger or emergencies, you feel me?

[the-meme-monarch]

christmas has always kinda made me feel awkward and bad for different reasons but now it’s just “the day before my cat died”. the entire month of december is just “remember when your cat died?” “hey it’s your sibling’s birthday :]” “remember when your cat died?.” “merry christmas. tomorrow is the anniversary of when your cat died.” “good morning it’s the anniversary of when your cat died.”

[heartepub]

genre/tags. suggestive. gn!reader. you can decide if it's friends to ??? or an established relationship. undiscussed kink ig. inspo: that one scene from king eternal monarch

“I’m going to kill him. No really, I will.” Seungcheol ends the call with Soonyoung.

You snort from your place on his bed, eyes glued to your laptop. “I swear, if you were a king, there’d be beheadings every other day.”

“That’s the first thing you think of?” He scoffs.

“Shut up, that’s what I’m reading about!” Lately, you’ve taken to working on your readings at his apartment, due in part to it being one of the few ways you can spend time with your boyfriend while bogged with schoolwork. 

“Maybe you should take a break,” he raises his eyebrow pointedly at your trackpad. “You haven’t scrolled past that page for ten minutes.” Now it’s your turn to scowl, but he’s right. Relenting, you close your laptop and rest it on his bedside table.

“You’re no better though, you’ve been pacing since I got here.” You pat the space beside you invitingly. Seungcheol sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of you. Absently, you play with the fingers within reach of your hand. “You gotta admit though, it’s totally gonna happen, dorm devil.”

He glares at you, already pouting, though there’s no real bite behind it. “…I’m beheading you as my first order of business.”

“Try me.” Jokingly, you lean forward and look up, exposing your neck. 

For a beat, there’s nothing, and you’re about to lower your chin with a lighthearted taunt of him chickening out, when it happens.

Seungcheol leans forward, tilting his head to place the softest kiss on the center of your throat. Oh.

He must have felt the sharp intake of your breath vibrate on his lips. Your entire body stiffens in shock, visibly jolting upwards. He takes it as his cue to move away slowly, eyes meeting yours.

You pull back much faster than he does, eyelids fluttering as you try to process what had just happened. Your mouth is softly parted in an o, a creeping heat replacing the teasing expression on your face just moments ago.

For a breathless moment, neither of you speak.

“Cheol—” his left hand comes to your chin, tilting your head as he kisses you again, this time a firm press of his lips onto lips. Oh.

It takes you longer to respond, your throat still tingling from earlier, but Seungcheol is impatient. He pulls away for a breath before closing in again. Soon enough, your eyes flutter shut, mouth moving against his.

One hand comes up to thread in his hair, and he groans when you tug at the strands just so, nails grazing his scalp.

His kiss is fierce but oh-so-gentle. You unravel under his touch, trading kisses and breathy sighs as he crowds you against his bed, one hand still on your chin and the other bracing his weight on the headboard.

Eventually, Seungcheol pulls away, eyes locking onto yours. He seems to be debating something, his stare flicking between your kiss-swollen lips, his hand, and the gaze you level at him, debauched yet trusting. Without looking away, the hand on your chin wraps itself around your throat. There’s barely any pressure, only the weight of him and his unspoken question, yet a breathy noise rips itself past your lips.

Relief flashes briefly across his eyes before it is replaced by a smirk.

His mouth moves past your lips and cheek, ghosting over your ear. Seungcheol’s hot breath fans across your skin, and you know he is savoring the way you shudder against him.

“Off with your head.”

[tossawary]

Rewatching some of "Merlin" again and... I really love worldbuilding where I'm not sure the creators were thinking through all the implications. Like, the show opens with the King overseeing the execution of a man, Thomas Collins, who used magic (not even to commit actual harm as far as we know) and the crowd is dead silent during Uther's solemn anti-magic speech. Then they GASP in horror and disgust when the poor guy gets beheaded offscreen, and they remain dead silent as Uther's speech continues, declaring a festival to celebrate 20 years since the Great Dragon was captured and sorcery outlawed. And then no one cheers or even SMILES about this.

Like, okay, the people of the past were not always chill or excited by public executions, because historical people all around the world and across time are not a monolith. There have always been people who hated them. But there have definitely been points in time where some people viewed public executions as good entertainment for the whole family and/or have reveled in the righteousness of bloodshed.

A lot of these people must have lived through the Purge: if they actually, you know, believed in and supported Uther's anti-magic philosophies, you'd think that you'd see a few cheers? Maybe some nodding? You'd kind of think that the people who would actually show up to public executions are those who share Uther's radical, violent beliefs, but no... the camera doesn't show a single smile or nod in the gathered crowd. This is Fantasy Medieval Land and no one is cheering the public execution. Okay.

You could say, "Well, maybe Uther is just a sour grape who doesn't like people talking when he's talking. Maybe Uther takes his campaign against magic dead seriously and this extends to him wanting a solemn, respectful atmosphere at all of his public executions of sorcerers." Sure. There are a LOT of guards in the crowd, possibly a leftover habit from the early days of the Purge, when there were more people who were presumably Not Okay with Uther's sudden change in policy.

But again, even if this obviously tyrannical King really doesn't like any cheering or smiling, no one is even nodding along to his speech. It doesn't look like any of these watching people wholeheartedly agree with his anti-magic beliefs. They're not happy about the death of a sorcerer. The division in ideology between Uther and the lower classes here appears to be a very, VERY stark line.

And then Uther declares a FESTIVAL! Uther is smiling! There's a happy tone in Uther's voice, like he wants the people to be happy about the absence of magic, and I can't see why he'd be against cheering here. He wants to celebrate!

But NO ONE cheers. No one smiles. Like, yes, this crowd seems to mostly contain the lower classes, who are probably not going to be feasting in the King's hall later, but a festival implies to me that there's going to be more of a city-wide celebration. That the King is going to provide some amount of free food and entertainment to his people, give out bread and hire some musicians or something, that there's going to be some sort of relief from work for a day, and maybe other charitable givings that boost a monarch's popularity.

But NO ONE cheers. And, again, okay, maybe Uther hosts a bad party. Very possible. Maybe Uther is really just going to hold one formal dinner for the upper classes and he's announcing that to the lower classes who are going to get nothing because he's that out of touch somehow? But, also, no, a festival means something different than a feast. And Uther is awful, but I would think he has a little more social cunning than that. I'm going to suppose that he earnestly wants to "generously reward" the common people for resisting the corruption of magic, and that he intends to give out some benefit.

But NO ONE smiles. This is a Fantasy Medieval Land where someone gets executed for doing the Evil Magic and then the King announces a Victory Festival, and no one cheers or looks even remotely happy through any of it. Everyone is about to shuffle off sadly before the executed man's mother starts screaming at Uther, saying that he is the true evil of Camelot and promising to kill his son. And no one boos her for it. They mostly just watch her, wait for Uther's inevitable bad reaction, and then just... shuffle away quietly after she vanishes in a whirlwind. Huh.

This one scene is implying a LOT about the social and cultural state of things in Camelot, and what the common people think of their King and his campaign. Other episodes will go on to elaborate and say other things about this world. But this is the opening scene that's stuck with me for a long time. We're obviously not meant to think well of Uther during this scene. Maybe we're meant to see that Uther is not at all a beloved king here. It looks like they're intentionally going for a frightening tone because this is all meant to be very scary for Merlin, who walked into this place like five minutes ago and could be next.

But I don't know if the show fully thought through what the actions of the background extras are suggesting here (they were presumably understandably focused on other things, this is the pilot and they're still working out kinks, this show is kind of silly anyway, etc.), and I think what it says is neat: Uther is a relatively recent king (his speech contains the words "when I first came to this land") and he is NOT popular. There's a difference between "not liked" and "NO ONE likes this guy even when they actually showed up to his event", and what they show here seems to be the latter.

Everything in a visual medium contributes to the story, whether the creators intended it or not, and none of the background extras filling out the scene cheer or smile when the camera points their way. Usually, hatred like Uther's will attract eager assholes happy to blame the Designated Other for all of their problems and society's problems, and obviously Uther does have a lot of guards and soldiers and willing followers in them, but still... not a SINGLE person (not even the soldiers doing crowd control) cheers or smiles at the public execution OR when the king declares a festival. Not one. It's unfortunately not unrealistic for people to cheer tyrants and join hate campaigns, but Uther's willingness to kill anyone on a shred of evidence has made him so unpopular that he can't get a single huzzah here.

That's something.

(Also, the near-complete absence of the Church in this world is VERY funny.)

[watching-constellations]

Okay, I am so sorry, but I just realized that the crab dancing in this video lines up really well with “Soldier, Poet, King”?? And let me tell you, I am having an experience.

[tutanchanup]

I don't know why I have decided to murder you all... I apologise

The Beheading of Vlad Draculea

…a short story intertwined with history.

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Now I STRONGLY RECOMMEND PLAYING THIS WHILE READING! (sorry for the weird format but I haven't figured out how to do it properly here on Tumblr yet, someone help me 😅)

Because it captures perfectly the tone of the scene, thus making your experience fuller too 😉

(The video is amazing too if you'd be interested later)

First, the (un)necessary wall of text (feel free to skip 😄):

What historical facts I was inspired by that we have at least somewhat documented:

What his personality seems to be from what we know of him - pragmatic, resilient, unbreakable, a genius strategist and warrior

His behaviour and crowd interaction I base in the ways of mediaeval aristocracy, a field I specialize in*

We know he'd been killed by his enemies shortly after he'd ascended the Wallachian throne for the third time after 12 years of exile, in 1476, at the age of 45.

He was probably attacked by another pretender for the throne

There's a possibility he suffered from haemolacria

Even though in the world he became known by the propagandistic stories depicting him as a monster, fascinatingly, it has never happened in Romania itself. Somehow there survived his image of a just and beloved ruler, something only now the modern science started to discover has basis in history

Facts for those that don't know much about him:

For his memories, I use the real historical events that we know happened in his life

We know he built his castles with secret passages

We know he was an excellent fighter

His war strategies were legendary, he must've been incredibly clever and was very resourceful

His people probably really loved him. He defended them against the Ottomans and brought down those nobles who exploited them. Their living conditions improved greatly during his reign (justice for everyone, no unfair immunity for boyars, support of lower class, tax exemption for craftsmen, new roads, ending exploitation from Saxons, rewards for common people, commoners lifted to boyar status, ending the sending children as slaves to the Ottomans).

One theory states that that was the reason why they called him Drakgwlya (Dracula means ‘son of the dragon’- his father had the nickname ‘Dracul=Dragon’, his enemies changed that to ‘son of the devil’, but it has one other possible origin - as you'll find out later in the story)

°~°~•~°~°

My assumptions that I used to cover the missing parts:

If I was Vlad's enemy and managed to overpower him, instead of murdering him on the spot I'd choose to behead him publicly, had I the chance (beheading was the only allowed way how to execute a nobleman - btw Vlad upheld that too, he never impaled them, as opposed what the propaganda stories accuse him of).

Why? See the following:

His people were waiting for his return for 12 years with patience and hope. I would want to make sure that they'd see that he's finished for good and that there's no chance that he could return again somehow someday

Vlad the Impaler at this point had an absolutely massive reputation as undefeatable scourge of his enemies (an image even strengthened by the propaganda depicting him as the devil incarnate). I'd absolutely want to create in the public eye the physical image of me being the one ending him

We think that his head was probably sent to the sultan of the Ottoman empire, Mehmed II. Possibly shortly after. But in mediaeval times, the body of the fallen monarch was preserved and paraded around, so that people could make sure that he's really dead - both his followers and his enemies. However without head, how could you persuade them that that's really the legendary Vlad the Impaler and not just some guy in his armour? Public execution solves this, as there would be testimonies from people that saw it happen

°~°~•~°~°

*His personality in my works is based on my own thorough research. I'm considering his upbringing as a 15th-century voivode - influenced by medieval Christianity, and needing the moral code required of a ruler who led his people into battle (I'll do some posts on these later).

Does he sound like a B-movie superhero to you? That's not a coincidence! Modern superheroes are the continuation of mediaeval legendary knights. And many traits we associate with classic heroes - unwavering courage, honor, strategic brilliance, and even calculated ruthlessness - were not just ideals for a medieval ruler. They were necessary for survival. A voivode leading his army personally into battle couldn’t afford fear, hesitation, or weakness. His power depended on his ability to inspire loyalty, intimidate enemies, and outmaneuver both foreign invaders and internal threats.Those who succeeded in embodying these ideals became themselves legends or saints - like Charlemagne or Vlad’s cousin, St. Stephen (guess whom he had the opportunity to learn from…).

And if one thing is certain, Dracula’s name became more than legendary.

This short story tries to imagine how that could've happened.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

Now let's leave the realm of cold facts and musings, and let us step into the warm embrace of art:

Hear, hear! For I have a tale to tell you, of the last day of Vlad Voda of Wallachia:

And let the captivating tones of the bard Farya Faraji wash over your ears while I will be doing so.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

Vlad Draculea, or "the Impaler" as he's become known lately, was standing in a cold, dark cell of his own castle. A massive iron collar around his neck, the chain linked to it binding him to the iron bars of the prison.

That collar was the problem.

You see, he had expected something like this could happen. He wasn't called one of the best strategists of his time for nothing. He knew that there was a chance that one day some of the pretenders to the throne could capture him and throw him in a cell so they could prepare to execute him publicly. He would have done the same. That's why he had rebuilt his castles with secret passages leading from the prison cells he could one day find himself in, including this one. The secret way was hidden under the wooden bench, its opening accessible after removing the third floor stone from the right of the northern wall.

But he hadn't counted for the collar.

It wasn't there when he last checked the state of the castle after his return from 12 years of exile. But his enemy has fished it out of who knows where.

Apparently, the ingenuity of Vlad Draculea had become so legendary, that his enemies made sure to be thorough. Curses.

And so he had ended with an iron collar around his neck, chained to the bars, just a few steps away from the secret passage that could've led him to safety, and yet now made agonizingly unreachable.

He tugged at the chain again, but it was no use, the metal was just too strong.

Vlad couldn't but laugh heartily at the sweet irony of this whole situation.

The saddest thing is, that of all places, the shackle was around the neck. If he'd been chained by wrists, he would consider breaking his thumbs. Maybe he'd manage to break his ankles too, if the shackles had been there instead. But breaking his neck was... a possibility, for sure, but not one that would lend him much advantage.

Vlad smirked again and slightly bowed his head in respectful admiration. "Well played, indeed!" he mused. As a warlord he could always appreciate a clever strategy, even when it was used to defeat him.

But he didn't bash himself over his defeat for too long. He knew he had done the best he could. This wasn't really something he could have prevented in advance.

Sometimes, life was just like this. Sometimes, even the best strategy still couldn't guarantee that you stayed alive.

There was no use in spending his last moments on earth wallowing in pointless grief.

So instead, he decided to use this moment of respite to contemplate his life. And what a life that has been!

He smiled sadly at his cruel childhood. He wept briefly for those he'd loved that had fallen. He laughed again at the times that had brought him joy. He smiled with gratefulness at the moments when he had felt true happiness.

And then he finished with a short prayer, thanking God that he could've lived through all that, and now pleading that his soul be received in heaven.

He then took a deep breath in and out and then looked at the cold cell around him anew, his expression now calm.

"I wonder what awaits me next?" he pondered. The thoughts about his own death inadvertently looming over him couldn't be escaped. But maybe, it won't be so bad... Maybe he'll see his loving wife again. What a nice sight that would be, to once more see her with her arms open, welcoming him home after he will return from his very last battle.

He might even set his eyes upon the face of his beloved brother Mircea, now surely a better sight than when he'd last seen him, when his dead face with gouged out eyes was marked by the horror of having been buried alive. Ah, how he was excited to see him smile again instead!

And his father would be there too... father who he'd hated until the last moment for giving him away to the Ottomans as a hostage and then subsequently betraying them, thus sentencing his own son to death, which neither of them couldn't have known at the time that wouldn't come. But then when Vlad met him again he'd sacrificed himself to save Vlad and Radu’s lives... Vlad longed for the opportunity to talk to him again ever since.

And then of course there would be his dear mother, who he had last seen when he was just 7 years old, and never got to know what had become of her after that. Now he will finally be able to hear her story.

Vlad smiled wryly at those thoughts.

His chain of thought was broken by the metallic sound of keys in the door. Ah, the time has finally come. He looked with a bittersweet smile as that damned collar fell to the floor. Oh well. Now when the fully armed soldiers had clasped him firmly with their hands, it was a dead end anyway.

As they led him over the courtyard that his steps had marked for so many times before, he quickly assessed the situation. The soldiers were many. Too many. And they were armed too. Even if he managed to wriggle himself free from their grip, they would catch him before he'd even reach the closest window. No, the only thing that would achieve was him dying sooner, with no pride whatsoever, and staining his reputation with the mark of "coward" as well. That simply wasn't worth it.

So he let them lead him to the newly raised wooden terrace, where his enemy already awaited him, along with the executioner's sword, and the crowd to behold that. Draculea walked with his head proudly raised, a brave smile across his face. He wasn't scared at all. Why should he be? Fear would do him no service, especially not now. Being scared wouldn't change the situation in any way, so why spoil his last moments with it? He was calm instead, his gaze already fixed beyond mortal matters. He didn't pay much attention to the words of his enemy. It didn't matter anyway, and he would risk that he would roll his eyes if he heard his enemy boasting how he was the one to bring the fearsome Vlad the Impaler to his demise.

His gaze stopped at the sight of the beheading block, and his eyes sparked with curiosity: "I wonder how that will be!"

Then suddenly, a sharp shout tore him away from his thoughts.

It came from the public.

He looked at the crowd for the first time. He didn't pay them much attention before, as he wasn't interested in seeing faces of people cheering over his demise or laughing at his defeat. But he was surprised that that wasn't what he saw. No. The expressions he saw were full of... sadness. The people... His people... were mourning him. "Vlad Voda!" one man had cried with desperation. Soon one woman accompanied him, tears running down her face. These were the people who'd waited for 12 years for his return, and now they were forced to see their hopes of him being their ruler once again thwarted before their very own eyes. "Vlad Voda, don't leave us!!! Don't go, dragul...!"

Dragul. Beloved. The name his people had given him.

Vlad smiled at them kindly, saying without words "But what can I do?"

From the crowd came the answer: "Fight!"

Vlad almost laughed out loud. What use could there be in fighting? Don't they see the odds? The platform was full of armed soldiers, two of them were holding him as well, and his hands were tied behind his back.

But the crowd stood firm. "Fight them!! Fight, Vlad Voda!!!!"

Vlad smiled again at the unfaltering faith they had in his fighting skills.

But then he gave it a moment's thought. Sure, there was no chance to win whatsoever, he knew that beyond doubt. But maybe... Maybe it would be nice to have one last battle. To once more unleash the admirable strength of his body that he had cultivated since childhood. To use the battle skills he had drilled into his mind with such care that they became part of his instincts now. To feel his heart race with adrenaline in the heat of battle ...for that one last time.

But the voice inside his head had stopped him. It was that voice which always rose up to make him aware that he as a voivode had responsibility to his people. He couldn't just let his own desires win. His life wasn't his own, it never was, it always belonged to his people. He was there to serve. And starting a fight here and there wouldn't do them much service, what if they'd risen up and started fighting the guards themselves? That would result in a bloodshed.

He looked back at his people with an apologetic smile.

But they weren't satisfied, no, they had started to rally even more when they noticed he'd actually considered their proposition. Someone started shouting his name, and more people joined. They wanted to see. They wanted to see their Vlad Voda fight one last time.

Vlad again eyed the surrounding, his eyes narrowing in focus as he was taking assessment of his situation. Then he smiled with a playful smile. Truly, there was no chance. But he himself was curious - how many soldiers he could take down before they'd overpower him? One? Two? Five? It was surely a challenge with conditions like this, especially since his own arms were still tied behind his back. But he always rose up to a good challenge!

And if this was the wish of his people, he'll hear out their call! All his life was tied down with responsibility, but maybe now, moments before his own end, he could let himself be free. He deserved at least that one short moment of freedom.

So be it then!

He gave his people a mischievous smile as his old fighting spirit was rekindled in his green eyes. The crowd had noticed and held their breath with excitement. But the guards, who didn't see his face, didn't notice. And so he striked!

In one fast moment, quick as the strike of lightning and just as deadly, he'd butted the head of a soldier next to him with his forehead. The soldier shrieked out with pain as his nose broke and sprayed him with shower of blood. Before the other soldier had even time to notice what happened, Vlad had already managed to slam with full force into his belly with his shoulder, effectively bringing the soldier to the ground. The crowd cheered loudly. Seeing Vlad fighting was a symphony to behold. Vlad was always an excellent fighter, there wasn't anyone who could've bested him in one to one combat. Even here, overwhelmed, his moves were lightning fast, and his hits powerful and resourceful too. When he couldn't use his arms - as they were tied behind his back - he used his feet instead, kicking with deadly precision at the weakest points in the soldiers defences, who weren't prepared for such an unorthodox attack from below. While they were trying to grab him, he'd kicked them out of balance, toppling them to the ground before they could even use their weapons. Vlad had moved with the swift elegance of a deadly dancer, dancing between their pole arms and using his legs, head and shoulders to carry out strikes. He even managed to make use of his elbows, restricted that they were. And at one moment he made a soldier run away while only using his fierce expression, he was proud of that one!

No less than eleven soldiers were out before one managed to hit Vlad in the back of his head with the pommel of a sword, bringing him to his knees. Another five soldiers clasped him, taking a hold of every inch of his body should he find a way to use that in a fight somehow. The crowd shouted with disappointment. Vlad gave them one last look, an apologetic smile across his face, as if he was saying "I did the best I could, but the odds weren't in my favour. Forgive me.

But thank you. It was fun."

With the corner of his eye he saw the massive blade of the executioner's sword swing. He bowed his head in reverence, accepting his fate with grace.

And then, just a moment before the sword fell and severed his head from his body, one single tear dropped from his eye. It had the vivid colour of blood - a condition he was affected by since childhood. The scarlet tear contrasted brightly with his pale face as it made its way across his cheek, found a way through his beard, until it reached his chin and from there dripped on the soil of his kingdom.

It wasn't a tear spilled over a sadness of his life, or the cruelty of his fate.

It was a tear mourning what could've been but wasn't to be anymore.

And as his enemy has grasped his raven black hair and lifted his severed head for all the people to see, the face of Vlad Draculea had for one last time looked down at his people. And on his face has been clearly strewn his last expression, now etched there for the rest of eternity. It showed his people kind smile, yet his brow was full of courage, his fighting spirit staying alive even while his own soul has left the mortal plane.

Because his face told to his people this last message:

"We have lived. We have fought. And it was worth it!"

And his people have never forgotten this. Outside of his realm he became known as the sadistic tyrant from the woodcut-printed stories. But his OWN people have never forgotten who he really was. Even as the dent of time has stripped down every living memory of him, deep down they remembered.

Even 550 years later.

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Made in thank you to the marvelous community around the real Vlad Draculea. The illustrious Corpus Draculianum, working tirelessly on finding new knowledge about Vlad, buried in old documents and archaeological sites. For their dedication in clearing Vlad’s name in the eye of the public, fighting against vampiric monsters and child-eating tyrants, however impossible a task that seems to be. And also as thank you to the Vlandom, the amazing community which celebrates what could Vlad teach us still, and in their works, be it written stories or memes, make him live once again.

… And last but not least:

Mulțumesc, Măria Ta.

.

[the-confused-little-anomaly]

Ye shall bow before the squirmy monarch

[sssunshinebreeze]

Hexquad in romeo and juliet (loosely inspired) romantasy au.

Mel and Jayce are the newly married Crown Princess and Crown Prince of Piltover Kingdom, who are at odds with Zaun Land, who also just wedded their own Crown Prince and Crown Princess, Viktor and Sky.

They met as few of the delegates sent by each kingdom's ruling king and queen to negotiate trades and military boundaries in a small buffer zone town, each ruling monarchs set to profit from the other.

And yet, between the vicious exchanges and the corrupt expectations above their heads awaiting in their homeland, the four fell in love. Perhaps it's the meeting room tension, the admiration of confidence and steadfast. Perhaps it's the flirtatious remarks after-hours, the accidental meeting in local tavern in disguise (they admire each other too much to not recognize one another). Perhaps it's the tipsy dance, the drunken kisses, the black out fourway tango on the bed of the tavern's inn.

Perhaps it's waking up naked in each other's arms, bad hangover striking, chronic aches hitting. But despite it, there's a feeling of sated hunger, feeling of contentment, feeling of completeness. Almost like despite their opposing sovereigns, they were meant to be together, all four of them. Almost like they weren't meant to be separated to begin with, not even as pairs.

Like the four of them is the simple truth of the universe.

They wake at just the break of dawn, long before their own fellow delegates arisen. They retreat in silence, not uttering a single word as they get dressed. But there are lingering stares that just somehow differ from before this all happened. There are sentences left unsaid. They all notice it. They let it be.

In the negotiation meetings, those stares come back, even in fleeting that their fellow delegates don't notice. They left that night be, a mistake their logical side thinking.

But their want, it simmers.

When Noxus Empire strikes war during their negotiations, it left the two sovereigns in shambles. Delegates and warriors die, families broken apart, rulers evacuate leaving vacancy in highest positon.

In the brink of death and sovereigns falling, they find each other. Their want no longer simmers, it boils.

They hang onto each other after they got separated from the rest of their envoys in an attempt to escape death. In the midst of it all, they let themselves be consumed by the flame of yearning and desire, soft noises from the painful pining paint the humble shack they hide in.

Will they be found and beheaded tomorrow? Will they have to return to their rightful position as the new commanding rulers to stop this massacre? That is for tomorrow. Tonight, the sighs and moans are theirs and theirs alone.

[goldenappledelicious]

Going off of the idea that the prank was the start of Bridget’s fall to darkness and not actually the only catalyst. I feel like the start of Bridget’s reign as Queen of Hearts had a sort of Caligula situation.

She’s starts pretty good and beloved and really does want the people to love her. But with her already giving into crueler behaviors at school, she starts showing those traits again. And unlike at school, she isn’t getting punished or negatively affected by these actions outside of people fearing her. She’s the Queen after all. And after so long being picked on and viewed as weak, that fear just makes her feel more powerful. So it just gets worse.

She starts getting angry easier and becomes quicker to punish. Until eventually months in she finally does her first beheading. And that’s like the point of no return. She has now executed someone. Someone is dead at her command. And… nothing happens. Everyone accepts it because they have to and she sees no consequences to it. And she fully accepts that ruling with fear is a lot better than ruling with love when you’re an absolute monarch with complete immunity to consequences.