#serbian metal

[clouds-of-wings]

I listen to this band so much recently. Random melodic metal on the surface, but they have something about them that I really like. Partially it's that the vocals have a bit of an edge. But mainly there's just a certain je-ne-sais-quoi.

[metalhead-brainrot]

[Album of the day] Kobold - Technofascism

Belgrade, Serbia // 2022

[Genres] avant-garde thrash, speed metal, crossover

[Thoughts] Had to get a new phone, setting it up is maddening. I've selected this album as a meditation on spending all day uninstalling bloatware. Who decided it was kosher for tech companies to keep databases of everyone's fingerprints and faces?

WAKE UP | TUNE OUT

o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::>

[From the band/label]

"The Balkan country of Serbia has been described as bedraggled yet thriving… a place of much beauty that is also war-torn and toxic. Such a perfectly poetic breeding ground for thrash and speed metal, wielded by the landlocked nation’s strongest, KOBOLD.

The band is set to release their third full-length album “Technofascism” on Jackhammer Music and it promises to be their heaviest and most ambitious. No small feat for this trio that has developed a new vicious approach to the metal they love. It is a fresh take on speed and thrash that draws from the elders (Exodus, Mercyful Fate, Anthrax) but forces the music to evolve.

Fans will also hear a heavy German influence (Living Death, Kreator). The riffs are fast and brutal, heavy and technical that can at times amaze! Killer drumming, and shredding riffs and bass. On top of that... real live solos that would make Kirk Hammett and Gary Holt proud. Guitars are handled expertly by Elio Rigonat, who also sings with amazing ferocity. He has an uncanny ability to utilize almost three different voices to terrorize the listener, including a higher range John Connelly (Nuclear Assault) attack that really sets him apart.

Why do we keep naming all these bands?!?!? Because KOBOLD is difficult to acutely describe, and that’s what makes them great! They’re truly unique and in the ranks of Arch Enemy and Toxic Holocaust. Hellishly great!

“Technofascism” also promises numerous special guests from the Serbian metal, punk and hardcore scene."

...

Elio Rigonat - Vocals, Guitar, Synths, Violin & E-Drums Stefan Stanojević, aka "Edwin Pickett" – Bass

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

Cover Art

Deni Aktemirov

[wormically-music]

Eskhata “Storm”.

[thenwothm]

OATHBRINGER (SERBIA) UNVEIL THEIR NEXT "TALES OF VALOR" ALBUM COVER

Serbian metal powerhouse OATHBRINGER, revealed the cover artwork of their sophomore album earlier this week, attracting the attention of the headbanger community in the Balkans and beyond. Part of a legendary trilogy, “Tales of Valor” is targeted to be released in January 2024. Setting a landmark with their debut release “Tales of Glory in the summer of 2022, the band made quite a name touring…

[amons-hat-enthusiast]

A petition to stop Rio Tinto’s mine from destroying Serbia’s nature

"We call upon you to prohibit extractive mining projects and metal processing in the Jadar Valley in Serbia.

In particular, we demand that you cancel the proposed Rio Tinto lithium mine in Loznica. We demand that you protect the biodiversity, fertile ground, farming villages and rich cultural areas.

Serbia’s most fertile land can be found in the beautiful Jadar Valley. Small family farmers grow raspberries and plums, engage in beekeeping and sheep and goat herding. The valley borders mountains, is surrounded by water and home to thousands of sustainable multi-generational farms.

But instead of protecting it, the Serbian government has approved a project with multinational mining corporation Rio Tinto, for the exploitation of “Jadarite”, a lithium ore in the valley. The government and the company have ignored scientists and mining experts who advise vehemently against the mine and are threatening to cause irreparable damage to the water, land, air and it’s people. Local citizens, who do not want to give up their sustainable agricultural land which has been in their families for generations, are being ignored.

The process of separating chemically stable lithium from jadarite ore involves the use of concentrated sulfuric acid. The process would take place 20 km from the Drina River and use 300 cubic meters of water every hour, while the chemically treated water would be returned to the Jadar River.

The outpouring of inevitably polluted water, as well as underground waters which contain arsenic, mercury and lead, would contaminate entire river basins and continue their journey across the Jadar to the Drina and Sava, polluting not only Serbia's but other countries' water sources as well.

We reject the pollution of the air. Treatment with the above mentioned (and additional) aggressive acids produces toxic gases that can spread within a radius of over ten kilometers and which will corrode the skin and lungs of humans and animals.

We reject the endangerment of the population around the Jadar Valley in the interests of a multinational corporate profit. Rio Tinto has promised 700 new jobs, but forgot to mention that 19,000 people are set to be displaced or severely effected.

Rio Tinto in 2020, destroyed a 45,000 year old sacred Australian Aboriginal cave. The company and its representatives have been repeatedly convicted of fraud and paid billions of dollars in damages and fines for illegal destruction of land, but continue to ravage and destroy natural environment around the world. The company is accused of participating in war crimes in Papua New Guinea, where a ten-year civil war broke out due to the presence of their mine.

The citizens of Serbia have the right to clean air, clean water and healthy living conditions. Stop Rio Tinto’s lithium mine and protect the people, our heritage, our environment and the rivers of the Jadar Valley. United we can save our environment."

https://action.wemove.eu/sign/2023-03-stop-rio-tinto-EN?akid=s1568260..uAF-ha

The text above explains the situation. This is a very important petition and I'd be very grateful if you could sign it and spread it.

(I see that only people from European countries can sign it, others please reblog for this to reach as many people as possible)

[arctixout]

I just realised Bojan has made all his bandmates get out of their comfort zone in the span of a year and I'm so loving it

(Kris sing NGVOT, Jan speak Serbian (I think?) in an interview, Nace get his mullet (I'm counting this as a Bojan win) and Jure show off his metal singing skills in front of a small live audience)

and I guess also himself for playing piano live!

[stromblessed]

Mel 🔆, Viktor 🌌, and Jayce 🔥 symbolism

SUN 🔆

Mel's association with the sun is self-evident and still mostly shrouded in mystery, though her love scene with Jayce is notable, which is overlaid with starry imagery, where her silhouette and her freckled face are compared to the cosmos. The sun is also a star. It's just the star that's closest to Runeterra and has the most influence over the world.

Mel and the Hexcore are the POVs of the scene.

Hexcore and starry imagery is more strongly and consistently associated with someone else, though!

STARS 🌟 / THE COSMOS 🌌

Viktor's blue to purple pipeline is real

But seriously, the starry/swirly shapes point toward distant stars, the cosmos, a galaxy. There is no moon in Viktor's night scenes throughout the season, only stars.

Viktor's character regresses as the season goes on (blue to purple, ready to fall into Shimmer-like magenta as his corruption nears its peak).

His hubris opens him up to some kind of corruption by the Hexcore, or by whatever - or whoever - is using the Hexcore as a gateway, like what Jinx points out. Singed as his mentor plants and encourages the lie that Viktor believes, that he's better off alone and that the ends justify the means.

These perfectly ruinous circumstances lead to him getting Sky killed (Sky like sky blue, like Inspiration, lost as Viktor has lost sight of good in his pursuit of great).

In his running scene, Viktor runs not from left to right, filmspeak for progression - he runs from right to left, as though backstepping.

(And also for the Rocky Balboa reference called out in this brilliant post, but hey, I think it all works)

It's also worth laying the foundation that Viktor is a fantasy interpretation of Nikola Tesla, the Serbian-American inventor who was fascinated with electricity, radio signals, the cosmos, and [REDACTED for another post probably lol]

If you've fallen down the rabbit hole of League lore like I have, you might have picked up that peoples and warriors who are sun-worshipers are (at least anciently) tasked with hunting down and destroying Void beings, who are eldritch beings associated with the distant stars, or are Runeterrans constructed by the Void Watchers trapped between realms. The sun fights against interlopers from other dimensions or celestial bodies.

Mel and Viktor have the same ideas about risk and the nature of progress, and they are both technically foreigners living in Piltover and pursuing that progress - in two very different (but complementary) ways. They are most likely the two characters whose literal bodies are celestial, imbued with the Arcane. Their bodies are most likely augmented with magical metals.

Yet the arcane imagery that seems to accompany them respectively are diametrically opposed - Sun vs. Void, possibly. (Also, purple and yellow/gold are opposite or complement colors on the color wheel.)

Whether they wind up working together or whether they clash (as Viktor loses himself) or if it's a mix of both, I think Mel and Viktor are destined to collide in season 2.

So where does this leave Jayce?

FIRE 🔥

Fire for Jayce means more than one thing. The first thing that should come to mind is the fire of the forge. Creation and industry. The legacy and hard work of his family.

However, his FIRST imagery with fire occurs when Elora says "Speak of the devil" and Jayce is framed in flames at Mel's fundraising party.

He's similarly framed in the flames of a Molotov cocktail on the bridge between Piltover and the undercity with Viktor, after he's just called the people of the undercity dangerous.

What I think we're being shown here are Jayce's choices. He can use his talents and influence for good - creation and industry - or he can use them for destruction and oppression. A hammer can create.

A hammer can also be a weapon, a tool of destruction:

Fire can quickly burn and spread out of control.

Hey look, blue all the way to magenta in one scene!

And if you know his original League lore, the reason why his rivalry with [REDACTED] crosses the point of no return - fire and destruction. Yeah.

Jayce is interesting because his point position in the Mel-Viktor-Jayce trifecta makes it tempting to assign celestial imagery to him, too. However, adult Jayce is only present with Hexcore, star, and sun imagery when he is sharing a scene with Viktor or Mel respectively.

The show makes it a point that Mel and Viktor are the reasons he is the Man of Progress at all:

Note that Jayce in the center of his Man of Progress posters is backed by a gear (Viktor) and the sun (Mel). If Viktor had not intervened in episode 2, Jayce would be dead or disenfranchised. If Mel had not intervened in episode 3, then Jayce AND Viktor would have been kicked out of the Academy if not imprisoned or exiled, and Hextech with Jayce and Viktor at the helm would not exist.

(This is reaching, but I like to interpret that the circle + notches in the gear shape are like Viktor's star symbolism, but even if that's the big reach that I think it is, Viktor is a machinist, engineer, and techmaturgist with Artificer parents - the gear definitely represents him on a meta level)

The imagery that I believe is Jayce's and Jayce's alone is that of fire. He is terrestrial, using magic contained within tools the way he has always wanted to bring Hextech to every household, while Mel and Viktor are influenced by magic on a whole other level.

Sure would be a shame if Jayce found a reason to choose the path of destruction and be corrupted further, diverging from Mel and Viktor's core values

Sure would be a shame if Viktor's personal choices had consequences that radiated out further than season 1 and he gets put on a disastrous collision course with everything that Jayce and by extension Piltover hates and fears

Sure would be stressful for us if Arcane decided to be a Greek tragedy about it

Though possibly the most important piece of this picture is how Mel - gold like the sun, gold that doesn't tarnish or rust, gold that is an excellent conductor - has already faced the abyss and said NO to her own corruption:

It sure would be something for her to have to watch Jayce and Viktor go down a different path, huh

[izpira-se-zlato]

Milan, 27.03.24

Gig report! Can't believe there's only two to go after this one :o (for me)

I showed up at 4:45pm (bc I'd chosen to get food at the station) and was still a lower number than in Munich at 2pm. Yeah.

didn't really queue thus, which always makes gigs a bit… different. I miss chatting with people before gigs, but I hadn't wanted to fly (even though after the venue move that would have been even easier. But also catching a 7:30 flight the morning after a gig. Yeah, no)

the queue kinda fell apart because you needed a membership card to get into the venue. We didn't have to pay. But they had to handwrite it for us. Emotions ran a little high

the venue was. Something. Sorta a… festival tent? Not quite outdoors, but definitely Interesting

due to the proximity to the airport, the radio frequencies from planes kept interfering with the equipment. Bojan attempted to explain it to us, but he didn't know it himself and thus mostly listened. I feared for the worst at that point, ngl. They didn't look particularly angry to me, but Bojan was like, "Don't be angry, Jan!" so I was like 😬

Bojan tried to get Jure and then also Nace to jam while they were figuring out their tech issues (Always Something Problem), but it meant Jan couldn't hear himself enough and so we just watched him wander on stage while Bojan tried to entertain us

We got ASTP and Proti Toku for soundchek. My first ASTP in 12 gigs on this tour! Curious to see what we'll get today

Bojan repeatedly called Jan "Jenzo" and then later claimed "Just so you know, Jan's Italian name is Jenzo!" with which the crowd disagreed (and let him know that it should be Gianni)

soundcheck was pretty cold and I almost regretted not having taken my jacket (but it did warm up)

the opener was a brass band. Unexpected but actually fun. Fit the gig, somehow

they played a lot of medleys of known songs and the crowd was pretty into it

JC! God, I barely can believe that it was the second-to-last tie I saw him live like that. I love his acoustic set a lot (in particular the first and last songs xD)

He accidentally unplugged his guitar last night. Kinda a funny moment

pretty sure the hype list was changed. Dirty Little Secret made it into the cut, and to our surprise, Zitti e Buoni didn't. Weird choice, Primož (or so I assume)

Actual gig!

We got Jan in a capybaster shirt and Nace in the cosy sweater and Bojan in a buttoned shirt he got gifted during soundcheck and Jure in the gorgeous metallic sweater and Kris in another cozy sweater

The Jance was off the fucking charts, jfc I hate them idk what was in the air. Probably hadn't seen each other all day (I'm not actually complaining)

We got SSOL opener into… Ne Bi Smel into Ona into Tokio

During Ne Bi Smel Jan was standing in front of Nace's mic so Nace had to push him away to sing the backing vocals (grinning all the while)

Bojan went, "This night is gonna be multilingual" so I was like, oh, Tokio, but no! "We had English, then Slovene, now we're gonna add some Serbian!" Changing his quips for the final stretch, huh?

Nace singing fucking "Dok tebe sunce greje, mi amore" at Jan. I hate him (While the sun warms you up, my love, according to lyrics translate)

They also played at each other during NBS because of course they did

Jan back on Jure's snare drum for the end. Multi-instrumentalist

Tokio! I didn't catch it on video, but Nace leaned in and bumped his nose into Jan's breast? Kissed his coat? I have no clue what he did but I was like ??? Nace?

At the end, they chased each ohter in circles again, and Nace either went down on one knee in front of Jan or almost did so. When the lights came back on, Nace patted Jan's chest while laughing (couldn't make out Jan's expression)

before NGVOT, Nace was thrown bread. A plushie? Actual bread? I don't know

Nace kept looking over at Jan during NGVOT, and when Jan finally met his gaze, he turned to him so they played at each other. Jan was making a mock-surprised grimacing face and playing? And then they just. Turned back to the front. What the fuck, guys

they just. kept looking at each other. Jan looking at Nace while Nace was doing backing vocals. Nace looking back as soon as he was done. Them swaying in sync while Nace smiled smugly about it. And at the end, they did the swaying like. In opposite cycles? So both sawying in and both swaying away, until Nace turned and bent his knees a little and yelled up into Jan's face. Yeah idk.

we didn't only get Bluza but got it before Šta bih ja

Kris came over to hug Jan during Bluza 🥰😭

Jan's expressions during the ending were. Something 😂

more silliness from Jan and Nace during Šta bih ja

Bojan: "This is a new song! Why do you know it"

also uh. Synchronised hip thrusting while facing each other at the end of the song. Yeah. Jfc remember you're on a stage, guys

Jan either messed up the opening of Demoni or his guitar gave out for a hot second but he was wearing a very oops expression

Jan grasped Nace's shoulders during Demoni and I think spoke the words at him? Or said something else? But that wouldn't make sense? Nace nodded and patted Jan's chest in turn

Got the Demoni scream

PiJano Padam. Bojan looked really tired during that song. Jfc get this man to take a break

Intense staring at each other at the beginning of Umazane until Nace said something to Jan and then both grinned and Nace wandered off

Nace was pretty silly at the start of the karaoke bit and like. gestured at Jan theatrically and then mimed falling over. Dork

We got the OG OG Umazane Misli chorus. The one Bojan wrote in a hurry the first time they performed it. Made my night -- and Kris's because it's where the very smiley/laughing Kris pics during UM came from

@kurooscoffee/@jokeroutsubs had prepared UNO reserve cards to make the boys sing. Which made the rounds already but gaaah it was !!!!!!

Jan declaiming the verse because "[he] can't sing so [he's] not gonna sing. [He's] gonna interpret it." And interpret he did😂

Nace with the "oh oh" before he started jfc the dork

Jan ducking under Nace's arm to play his bass after he failed to catch Nace's attention to offer, and then just. Going for it.

Nace slinging an arm around Jan

Nace singing "morning smells like you" right at Jan while Jan keeps looking up at him from playing chords on Nace's bass

Kris "Jan! Play, play the melody, I need the harmony!" (and Jan did)

god we need more Kris singing plssss

Kris sang the verse mostly at Nace

Jure going "oooh fuck!" and not knowing the entire lyrics 😂😂 Jance this and Jance that, but that made my night

I didn't see Bojan at barricade cheering his band mates on but he was and just. Gah. It was such a wholesome thing I hate them

Nace posed for pictures with a silly expression, and then Jance posed for a combined heart for someone

Plastika saw Bojan caress Nace and then hug Jan from behind (no choking tho)

During Novi Val, Jance stood off to the side being Jance for quite a while, while Jure had his hand weirdly on Bojan's back?

They looked really exhausted by the end which. Mood.

Post gig:

The venue had a scrolling LED screen that scrolled "Everybody's Waiting At The Ball" (thanks, Kris, for the restory!)

Had a chat with Dean (lovely) and JC Stewart (also lovely) and learned that JC and Conor used to live together which is why JC was out with Conor to be introduced to the boys (allegedly before Christmas, though JC wasn't 100%)

hung around the gate after the show even though it was pretty clear they wouldn't say hi, but it gave us a chance to see Mark (who'd surprised the boys with a visit) as he was waiting for someone to let him off the venue grounds. "Well, they'll have to open this at some point, they ordered McDonald's!"

Spoiler: they did not open the gate for McDonalds. Primož tried to scale it, which almost worked but looked dangerous, and so the delivery person threw it over the top. It was a spectacle

by that point, Mark had been let out the old-fashioned way though

[defrostedvertebrae]

What are Zmei?

ORIGINS

In short, Zmei (singular zmeu, fem. zmeoaică) / змей are draconic or serpent-like beings of eastern-european folklore. Sometimes they are depicted as a human-like character with dragon-like traits. The origin of the word "zmeu" comes from Russian , zmei being the the masculine form of zmeya, a feminine noun, meaning "snake".

They may be male or female; in stories for instance, only the male dragons will masquerade as a human man to capture or captivate a princess or a maiden as a love interest.

Their most significant power is that of shapeshifting; morphing into human, animal, or even object forms. They rely on this for survival, but may also find joy in this ability. Both dragons and zmei are united by the symbolism of fire; the dragon breathing it and the zmeu turning into it. Zmei are crreatures of both wrath and joviality; depending mostly on circumstance.

In terms of origin; at least in romanian folklore; they are known to either be born by zmei, or having been turned into zmei from balauri (multi-headed dragons). Balauri are closer to animality, while zmei closer to sapience. This change from one to the other happens with the help of a solomonar (mage) and at the balaur's request and will; for whatever reason that may be.

To get there, the dragon has to pass some initiation tests, at the end of which they are then allowed to go to the Other Realm where he can shed his old appearance and become a zmeu.

ABOUT

In base appearance, zmei can have many heads or just one, as well as either 4 or 2 wings. Sometimes human folklore depict them as gigants, with an orc-like face more than dragon. Base forms as well as powers and abilities vary, zome zmei being powerful enough to steal the sun and the moon from the sky.

In diet they are known to have a taste for human flesh, though in its lack zmei are known to have cultivated their own food; being (more or less) omnivores. They are known to take great care of what is theirs and stray away from filth. They are also known to mix in human blood with wine to drink. (which if you ask me is pretty metal)

Regardless of the way they are viewed in EE folklore, they are nonetheless creatures with inteligence, cunning and determination; with a taste for life and all its joys. From an inside perspective, i suspect a lot of us are prone to bitterness and hatred; mostly due to the irreversibility of the change from balaur to zmeu and the possible regrets one draconic being may have upon being met with the realities of what it means to give up your form for an uncertain future in which you don't know how humans might treat you.

As for zmei that were born in families of zmei; from a mythology standpoint those are known to live in palaces and houses with their own farmland; livestock and the like. In some stories zmei born by zmei tend to organise very well as a kind, forming their own community.

VIEWS ON ZMEI IN EASTERN EUROPEAN FOLKLORE

In local (Romanian) folklore, similar to Serbian folklore, they are generally portrayed as evil and violent, incorporations of greed and hate; although it is not the case across all of eastern europe.

In Bulgarian stories, the zmei is sometimes described as a scale-covered serpent-like creature with four legs and bat's wings, at other times as half-man, half-snake, with wings and a fish-like tail.

In most Macedonian tales and folk songs they are described as extremely intelligent, having hypnotizing eyes. They were also known as guardians of the territory, and would even protect the people in it. Hostile behaviour was shown if another zmeu comes into his territory.

In Russia and Ukraine zmei have three to twelve heads, Tugarin Zmeyevich (literally: "Tugarin Dragon-son"), being a man-like dragon who appears in Russian (or Kievan Rus) heroic literature.

[clouds-of-wings]

Exciting stuff!

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter One

Father Figure! Sherlock x Teen! Reader

Chapter One: Surprise Return

Summary: Sherlock returns to London and sees John once more.

In Serbia…

            A man, long-haired and straggled, ran through the forest. A helicopter searched for him from above, and it shone its giant beam of light down onto the trees in search of the man. Infrared cameras caught his position, and gunshots rang out. The man was forced to stop and panted in exhaustion as the ache in his bones caught up to him at the same time as the men. Unable to go on any longer, he slumped to the ground.

l

            The man’s body swayed from chains embedded in the ceiling. His wrists were twisted above his head at an uncomfortable angle. His shirt was gone, and his skin was bruised by repeated blows from his captors.

            One of the men struck the captive again, and he gritted his teeth. The other man in the room remained at a desk with his feet up, simply watching the proceedings closely.

            “You broke in here for a reason. Just tell us why and you can sleep. Remember sleep?” sneered the torturer, pulling his captive’s hair back. He drew his hand back to strike with his metal pipe again, but he paused as the prisoner spoke quietly. “What?” he said in confusion, leaning in. The man whispered again.

            “Well? What did he say?” asked the other soldier.

            “He said that I used to work in the navy where I had an unhappy love affair,” said the torturer in bewilderment. The man continued to whisper.

            “What?” said the other soldier.

            “…The electricity isn’t working in my bathroom, and my wife is sleeping with our next-door neighbor,” exclaimed the torturer, but the captive was still going.

            “And?” asked the other.

            “The coffee maker! And? And? If I go home now, I’ll catch them at it! I knew there was something going on!” shouted the torturer angrily, abandoning his charge to storm out of the room as his rage took over his rational thought.

            The prisoner was left hanging from the chains.

            The other soldier stood. “So, my friend. Now it’s just you and me.” He tutted. “You have no idea the trouble it took to find you.” He pulled the captive’s head up and whispered to him in English. “Now listen to me: there’s an underground terrorist network active in London and attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear.” Mycroft let the man’s head fall back. “Back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes.”

l

In London, in Mycroft’s office…

            Sherlock leaned back in the barber’s chair as his hair was cut and his scraggy beard was shaved. He held the paper open before him, but he wasn’t paying attention to it. It had taken a glance to get any information he needed, anyways.

            “You have been busy, haven’t you?” remarked Mycroft. “Quite the busy little bee.”

            “Moriarty’s network—took me two years to dismantle it,” said Sherlock. “You know I couldn’t leave anything still going.” Not when (Y/N) could be threatened by any remnant of Moriarty and his influence.

            “And you’re confident you have?” said Mycroft.

            “The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle,” said Sherlock. He glanced back at Mycroft. “And you know I wouldn’t leave this to chance. I made sure I took care of everything.”

            “Yes, yes, for (Y/N)’s sake,” said Mycroft, but despite his disdain for sentimentality, they were part of the Holmes family, so he understood what Sherlock meant. “And by doing so, you got yourself in deep there with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme.”

            “Colossal. But worth it,” said Sherlock simply.

            “Anyway, you’re safe now.” Mycroft folded his hands together. “A small ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss.”

            “What for?” said Sherlock casually.

            “For wading in,” said Mycroft. He wouldn’t ask for thanks for looking out for (Y/N) over the last two years. That was family. But going into Serbia personally? Mycroft would hold that over Sherlock until he figured out this terrorist business (and a bit after). “In case you’d forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu.”

            The barber, having finished, left the room. Sherlock stood and faced Mycroft angrily.

            “Wading in?” he said sharply. “You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp!”

            “I got you out,” said Mycroft indignantly.

            “No, I got me out,” said Sherlock. “Why didn’t you intervene sooner?”

            “Well, I couldn’t risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything,” said Mycroft as if it was obvious.

            Sherlock glowered. “You were enjoying it.”

            “Nonsense,” said Mycroft.

            “Definitely enjoying it,” muttered Sherlock.

            “Listen, do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going undercover and smuggling my way into their ranks like that?” Mycroft tsked. “The noise, the people…” He had a clear disgust for it all.

            Sherlock just crossed his arms and decided to let that part slide since Mycroft wasn’t going to apologize (Sherlock would be shocked if his brother did). “I didn’t know you spoke Serbian.”

            “I didn’t, but the language has a Slavic root with frequent Turkish and German loan words. Took me a couple hours,” said Mycroft.

            “You’re slipping,” said Sherlock, happy to have something to poke Mycroft with.

            “Middle age, brother mine. It comes to us all,” said Mycroft, turning around so Sherlock could change into fresh clothes. “Now, I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?”

            Sherlock turned around and let Mycroft look at him. Pointedly, all he said was: “What do you think of this shirt?”

            “Sherlock,” said Mycroft in exasperation, and Anthea walked in beside him.

            “I will find your terrorist cell,” said Sherlock. “Just put me back in London.” Let me go back to (Y/N). “I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in, feel every quiver of its beating heart.”

            “One of our men died getting this information,” said Anthea, pulling out a folder. “All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there’s going to be a terror strike on London—a big one.”

            “And what about John and (Y/N)?” said Sherlock, finally asking the question on his mind.

            “I’ve kept an eye on them, of course,” said Mycroft, gesturing to Anthea. She procured two more folders and handed them to Sherlock.

            Too nervous to open (Y/N)’s, Sherlock opted to look at John’s first. He found that John had gone greyer and grown a mustache. Sherlock disapproved. “Well, we’ll have to get rid of that.”

            “We?” said Mycroft.

            “He looks ancient. I can’t be seen wandering around with an old man,” said Sherlock, tossing John’s file to the side. He held (Y/N)’s and gazed at the name printed on it. (Y/N) (L/N). Not (Y/N) Moriarty. Good. Sherlock summoned his courage and flipped open the file.

            He looked at a picture of (Y/N)’s face dated the previous week. They were older. They’d been fifteen when he’d left, and now he was looking at a seventeen-year-old. (Y/N) was almost an adult. But there was something wrong about the picture. Sherlock recognized it immediately—their expression.

            It was the same as his when he relapsed and lost himself to drugs before he pulled himself out of addiction and properly took care of himself and his boredom. (Y/N) had an empty look in their eyes.

            Sherlock’s gaze snapped up to Mycroft’s. “I thought you were going to take care of them.”

            Mycroft didn’t respond and just looked at Anthea. She took her cue and left to leave the brothers to discuss family matters.

            “(Y/N) did not take your…absence well,” said Mycroft.

            “I saw them at the grave after my funeral,” said Sherlock. “I know.”

            “They have not moved on at all,” said Mycroft. He sighed, and though his sighs were usually those of exasperation, this was one of worry and tiredness. “Sherlock, after your ‘death,’ they wouldn’t eat. They barely slept. It took Dr. Watson and I quite some time to get them to do so. And even then, they often forget.”

            Sherlock’s heart clenched. (Y/N) wasn’t alright. They were suffering, and it was his fault. Even if he’d left to deal with Moriarty’s network—to protect them—it had still hurt them. “It’s been two years.”

            “They’ve improved somewhat, but they relapse into dangerous bouts of depression frequently,” admitted Mycroft. He laced his fingers. “I even ensure they had cases—safe, of course—to work on, but it didn’t seem to help.” He looked at Sherlock. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.” He wouldn’t apologize for anything he did to Sherlock, but (Y/N) was younger family, and just as he was protective of Sherlock from behind the curtain, he was the same way with (Y/N). He was sorry he couldn’t help them. “The doctor and I did the best we could.”

            “Then it’s good that I’m coming back,” said Sherlock, trying to keep his usual pragmatism, but he was worried now.

            (Y/N)’s mental health had always been fragile—the curse of being a genius in a world of idiots. They had been wary of people in the orphanage, pushed aside by adults who wanted to ignore their mind looking through them. Then, of course, the cases they and Sherlock had ended up on were…traumatizing, to put it lightly. But (Y/N) had always had Sherlock. He had watched for any serious signs of danger and taken care of them. But he hadn’t been there this time. It had been his absence that caused them this pain.

            “Have you done anything to prepare (Y/N) or John for your return?” said Mycroft.

            He sincerely hoped that (Y/N) found some stability again now that Sherlock was coming back, but he also knew that Sherlock coming back after so long being dead could also cause problems (and Mycroft didn’t want (Y/N)’s mental health to be any worse than it was).

            “Where’s John going to be tonight?” said Sherlock, ignoring Mycroft. His brother knew Sherlock had kept silent on his status being alive and not dead. It had been for John and (Y/N)’s safety.

            Mycroft looked at Sherlock disapprovingly. He knew Sherlock was going to go to John first because he was scared to see (Y/N) unwell because it was partly his fault. But he also knew he couldn’t stop his brother form doing what he wanted (and it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t go to (Y/N). Sherlock cared too much to leave them like this for long now knowing how they were.)

            “How would I know?” said Mycroft, deciding to be obtuse as ever.

            “You always know,” said Sherlock, knowing Mycroft as well as his brother knew him.

            “He has a dinner reservation in Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion, though I prefer the 2001,” said Mycroft. “And there is also a sweets shop that sells lollipops there.”

            “I know,” said Sherlock. He had bought (Y/N) their favorite lollipops from there many times.

            Anthea reentered and held out Sherlock’s Belstaff coat. He took it and slid it on.

            “Welcome back, Mr. Holmes,” she said.

            “Thank you,” said Sherlock sarcastically, facing his brother. “Marylebone Road, was it? I trust you can spare a car for me?”

            Mycroft tutted. “Anthea will escort you there. But then you’re on your own.”

            His brother could face John and (Y/N)’s reactions on his own. John’s reaction was easy enough to guess—anger. But Mycroft knew Sherlock could take a punch. However, he wanted (Y/N) and Sherlock to be alright soon. Neither was quite right without the other. Mycroft wasn’t one for guessing or hoping, but he did wish for everything to return to being as it should be.

            Sherlock followed Anthea to the car. And while he watched the streets go by to take him to John, all he could think of was (Y/N). His kid. Soon, everything would be as it should be. Him, John, and (Y/N)—family.

l

            “If you’ll have me, Mary, could you see your way, um…” John cleared his throat nervously. Trying to propose to the woman he loved was scarier than anything he’d ever done. “If you could see your way to—”

            “Sit, I think you’ll this vintage exceptionally to your liking,” said Sherlock, disguised with just a drawn-on mustache. He expertly interrupted John and Mary. “It has all of the qualities of the old with some of the color of the new.”

            John didn’t even look at Sherlock the Waiter and gritted his teeth. “No, sorry, not now, please.”

            “Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware of staring into the face of an old friend,” said Sherlock, trying to prompt John to see him.

            “No, look, seriously, could you just…” John looked up, and his face fell.

            “Interesting thing, a tuxedo,” said Sherlock nonchalantly as if he wasn’t suddenly back from the dead. “Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters.” John stood silently.

            “John?” said Mary in confusion as John tried to take deeps breaths. “John, what is it?”

            Sherlock cleared his throat and intelligently tried to defuse John. “Well, the short version is…not dead.” Or maybe not try to defuse anything. He coughed. “Bit mean springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defense, it was very funny.” John stared angrily. “Okay, not a great defense.”

            Mary’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, you’re—”

            “Oh, yeah,” said Sherlock.

            “Oh, my god,” said Mary.

            “Not quite,” said Sherlock.

            “You died, you jumped off a roof,” said Mary.

            “No,” said Sherlock.

            “You’re dead,” said Mary.

            “No, I’m quite sure, I checked,” said Sherlock. “Excuse me.” He dipped a napkin in their wine glasses and wiped away his mustache as John glowered. “Does yours rub off, too?”

            “Oh my god, oh my god,” exclaimed Mary. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

            Sherlock cleared his throat. “Okay, John, I’m suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology.” John slammed his hand down on the table.

            Mary tried to soothe John. “Alright, John, just keep—”

            “Two years,” snapped John. He took a deep breath, but he didn’t calm down. “Two years! Hm? I thought—Mm…I thought you were dead. Now, you let me grieve. You let (Y/N) grieve. How could you do that?” Sherlock winced at the mention of (Y/N). “How?!”

            Sherlock coughed and tried to collect himself. “Wait, before you do anything that you might regret, one question, just let me ask one question.” He pointed to John’s mustache. “Are you really going to keep that?”

            John took a deep breath and chose violence. He grabbed Sherlock’s collar and pushed him to the ground roughly. Onlookers gasped, and Mary shot up from her seat. John didn’t care and just continued to throttle Sherlock.

l

            In a dingy little diner (they had gotten kicked out of the fancier restaurant for fighting), Sherlock attempted to explain himself to John without getting punched again. “I calculated—”

            “You know, for a genius, you can be remarkably thick,” snapped John, just cutting him off.

            “What?” said Sherlock.

            “No one cares how you faked it, Sherlock. I want to know why. For God’s sake, why?!” snapped John.

            “Because Moriarty had to be stopped. I had to protect (Y/N),” said Sherlock simply. “I needed to get rid of his network to protect them.”

            John relaxed slightly. “Fine, fine. Did anyone know?”

            “My brother, of course. And then Molly Hooper had to fake the documents for my death…and maybe a few people in my homeless network,” said Sherlock.

            “So just your bother, Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps,” snapped John, back to being angry since he suspected Mycroft would know, but others knew before him and (Y/N)?

            “No, twenty-five at most,” said Sherlock, thinking he was fixing something.

            John launched across the table and grabbed Sherlock’s throat.

l

            In a shabby ice cream parlor, Mary crossed her arms and tapped her foot as John just glared at Sherlock as he dabbed a napkin on his broken lip. The night was just getting worse and worse.

            “Seriously, it’s not a joke? You’re keeping that?” said Sherlock, glancing at John’s mustache.

            John cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

            “Sure?” said Sherlock, questioning John.

            “Mary likes it,” said John.

            “Mmm…no she doesn’t,” said Sherlock.

            “She does,” said John.

            “She doesn’t.”

            John glanced at Mary, and she coughed.

            “Oh, don’t,” she said.

            “Oh, brilliant,” sighed John.

            “Look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you,” said Mary.

            “Right, no, no, this is charming. I’ve really missed this!” snapped John. He groaned. “I’m surprised it’s not you and (Y/N) back at this.” He glanced at Sherlock. “Actually, I’m surprised (Y/N) isn’t here at all.” He frowned. “Where are they?”

            Sherlock was silent.

            “Sherlock,” said John. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

            “I haven’t seen them yet,” said Sherlock slowly.

            “What!” shouted John.

            “I haven’t told them yet,” said Sherlock guiltily.

            John reared back and punched Sherlock.

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[legallybrunettedotcom]

reading a book on vampires and folklore and burial and i found out that the word očajan which means desperate in croatian, serbian etc. originally meant an undecayed corpse. metal af.

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

going to music places with only knowing the genre and liking new songs, and singing the ones i knew, and singing them badly bc i missed half the lyrics and not having an encyclopaedia of the genre in my mind bc i always liked the music and the pretentious pricks from serbian turbo folk to punk metal and grunge will not stop me from enjoying new things and knowing nothing about the band who sings it

[thenwothm]

INTERVIEW: OATHBRINGER (SERBIA)

Serbian metal outfit OathBringer will be storming countries this year with their fists full of metal promoting their debut album “Tales Of Glory.” We wanted to know more about the band and so TheNwohthm.com was fortunate to catch the band for an interview and see what was in store for 2023! THE NWOTHM: For those who do not know who you are, can you tell us your band name,who is in the band and…

[gratisdiamanten]

PRIMOŽ ROGLIČ MAKES THE FLIGHT ACROSS THE SAVA RIVER

While Slovenia is a land where everything bears the name of a saint, Sava was Serbian, as was Primož’s grandfather of four times. St. Primož, or Primus, likewise, was of the gentry, this time of Mentana, a thirty-minutes drive from Rome (deathly faithful, gored and scourged—even then his little brother knew that apostasy wasn’t really his thing). This is a land of saints, other people’s saints. Črtomir knew this as his tears of heartbreak flowed into the Savica. This place is trampled on either side by other people’s virtues. 

Primož Roglič has the universal sigil of suffering etched into the soft inner belly of his arm. Unlike Primus he would not say he is a man of faith, but once upon a time, he had loved to inject his sleek, starved body into updrafts, crosswinds. A ski jumper in the extreme. The University of Vienna says that doubt will ruin any otherwise good jump, but an excess of faith is fatal. Sends you head over heels in love with gravity. Primož jumped metal na glavo—headlong—

—and thus martyred himself on the hill every-other-week.

We have to slow him down, his trainer Zvone told us. I didn’t have enough fear, enough respect, Primož lamented. He now scourges himself on asphalt, a cyclist, his days of flight a dead thing, but the respect for the winds, the snow—the bright bright windwhipping—a gorgeous repentant flogging—

Zvone means bells. In these more rural lands may not be a land of swooning god-love, charismatic preachers laying hands on born-again believers with lips crusted in spit, but this is a land of church. Primož is indifferent to Adonai, but he is moved in his heart by a kind of Almighty you can hardly call any kind of idolatry. The penetrating white pupil of the Sun. Living breathing air currents.

The snow kisses his face with arterial blood. His capillaries pool open, metanoiac. The hill above. His body and scattered skis on the runoff below. Blue sky. This is the triptych of our beloved and lovely St. Primož. Once he is anointed with bacitracin and his paper robes are shed, they send him home with Zvone, and on the way they pass the blue Sava twice. To Zagorje ob Savi. Zagorje-on-the-Sava. The water in these areas was once black with dirty coal. Now you could see the fish in it. Over it passes our little blessed St. Primož.

(for @movieboyfriend)