#this was originally supposed to be romania but then i got the idea for the blinds

[literaryavenger]

Back To You - Steve Rogers

Summary: You've always been there for Steve, and now you're watching him go back to the girl he always wanted.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Maybe language. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This was supposed to be a Reader x Steve story, but I was too tempted to make reader end up with Bucky. So I decided to make two separate endings, the original with Steve and an alternate one where she ends with Bucky, if only for @ordelixx who gave me the idea. I'd also like to thank @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for the idea and for helping me write about other characters.

Masterlist

You know what’s about to happen. You know he’s gonna leave, you know he’s not gonna come back, you know you’ll never see him again.

You know he’s gonna try to have the life he always wanted with the girl he always wanted. The girl he loves.

And that girl is not you.

You watch him as he says goodbye to Bucky, you know he knows as well as you do that his best friend isn’t coming back.

Then Steve turns to you and you try your best to smile.

“I wish I had met you earlier.” he whispers as he kisses you on the forehead and you know in that instant this is really goodbye.

You smile and nod, not being able to get a word out, willing yourself not to cry.

He walks onto the platform and soon he’s gone.

You’ve been by Steve’s side ever since he came back from the ice. You were the agent assigned to watch over him, you were there when he woke up and had to run after him when he freaked out.

You were there during the battle of New York, during the fall of Shield in DC, during the whole Ultron incident and in Lagos.

You were on his side for the Accords, and you were by his side in London as he said goodbye to the love of his life. 

You were there with him and Sam in Romania to try and help Bucky, you were arrested with them and then helped fight the Winter Soldier, yet again.

You were on his side to fight against Tony and the rest of the Avengers, you got arrested again and were broken out of the Raft by him.

You spent two years on the run with him, and fought next to him in Wakanda.

You watched his dumb ass try to fight Thanos barehanded and you were quickly knocked down when you tried to help him.

You snapped like half the universe and apparently lost 5 years of your life. You came back, thanks to him, and fought against Thanos one last time.

And now you're watching him leave.

You were there to help him get accustomed to the 21st century, you were there for him on sleepless nights.

You were there for him as he cried for his lost friends, his lost love and his lost life. He always came to you when he needed to talk, to be held, help sleeping and even advise.

And you were always there for him, falling in love little by little against your better judgement.

You’re brought back to the present as you hear Sam freaking out on Bruce because Steve missed his mark and didn’t come back.

You look at Bucky and you both know what this means. He gives you a sympathetic smile and you try to give a smile back but fail.

You look away from him and take a deep breath. You turn around and start walking away.

You’re done here, and about to break down. Something you never allowed yourself to do in front of anybody, with the exception of Steve.

And now he’s gone.

You get in your car and quickly drive away, not looking back. You drive straight to Steve’s apartment.

You’ve been staying there since you came back while the compound gets fixed since your old apartment has been someone else’s home for the past 5 years.

Five years. That’s how long you’ve been gone. That’s how much of life you’ve missed. 

And now you’re left to pick up the pieces of your life by yourself, along with your broken heart.

If you were completely honest with yourself you always knew it wouldn’t have worked with Steve. You’ve never thought you were remotely good enough for him, and that was before even comparing yourself to Peggy. 

There was no doubt in your mind that she was Steve’s soulmate, and you’ve talked about her enough times to know he thought the same.

- Original Ending   -

You’re taken out of your thoughts by a knock on your door. You frown and cautiously walk to it, picking up your gun from its hiding place under the coffee table.

It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry, right?

You take a peek from the peephole and frown even more when you see that whoever’s on the other side of the door covered it.

You ready your gun and take a deep breath, your hand on the doorknob. You open and lose no time pointing right in front of you, but you almost drop your gun along with your jaw when you see who’s standing there.

You almost feel like you’re dreaming so you pinch yourself, which makes him laugh and when that sound hits your ears you know you’re not hallucinating either.

Steve Rogers, the same face you’ve always known, standing right in front of you.

For a moment neither of you say anything, then he decides that maybe you’re too in shock to talk so he breaks the silence. 

“I’ve never knocked on my own door before. That was a wild ride.” He laughs again and at the sound you can’t help but let the tears you’ve been trying so hard to keep in fall.

The moment he sees the first tear Steve’s face falls and then he’s wrapping his arms around you, your face buried in his chest.

You slowly bring your own arms to wrap around his waist, almost worried that if you make any sudden moves he’s gonna disappear.

Once your arms are around him too, you realize it’s all real and he’s actually there and you let yourself go, crying your eyes out and clinging to him.

Suddenly, he picks you up and you hang onto him for dear life as he carries you back inside the apartment, closing the front door and then goes to sit on the couch with a still crying you on his lap.

He does nothing more than run his hand through your hair, rubbing your back with the other and letting you get it all out.

After a few minutes you start to calm down and finally get your voice back. “I thought you were gone forever.”

Of all the reactions he could’ve had, he surprises you with the only one you don't expect by chuckling. “You never were very patient, were you, sweetheart?”

You look up at him and frown, sniffling and softly say “What do you mean? You were gone… Bruce said you missed your mark.”

He nods and wipes away the rest of your tears while he talks. “I did. I put the wrong time by mistake. You know me and technology.”

“But… You and Peggy…” your frown is still in place, just not being able to believe that he came back.

Did you read the signs wrong? Was he always planning on coming back? Almost like he can read your mind, he starts giving you some answers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Once I was done returning the stones, I knew I had a chance to go back to the 40s and I was gonna take it. I thought I wanted to take it. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” You ask in a whisper.

“Because of you, doll.” He says without missing a beat with a sweet smile. “All I could think about was you. Your smile, your laugh, your strength. The way you tried so hard to be happy for me even though you thought I was leaving forever. The mere thought of not seeing you, not talking to you, not having you by my side, it killed me.”

You’re almost crying again, but you make yourself talk, needing clarification, your voice still quiet. “What are you saying, Steve?”

“I’m saying, there is no me and Peggy. It’s me and you. It’s been me and you from day one.” He takes your face in his hands and leans in more, your faces only inches apart. “And I’m an idiot for taking this long to figure it out. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Can you forgive me?”

You swallow down the tears threatening to fall again and waste no time before nodding, maybe a little too eagerly but you don’t really care, and he doesn’t seem to mind either judging by his smile.

“I forgive you, Steve.” The words are barely out of your mouth before Steve is leaning in the rest of the way and kissing you.

You kiss back without thinking twice about it and after a few seconds you pull back, big goofy smiles on both your faces.

You spent the rest of the afternoon like this, cuddling and talking and just enjoying each other’s company.

You didn’t do much, it wasn’t much different from the endless number of days you spent together, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was the best day of your life.

And even if you didn’t know it, Steve was thinking the exact same thing.

After all, what is better than spending the day cuddling with the girl he always needed? The girl he loves.

And that girl is you.

- Alternative Ending    - 

You’re taken out of your thoughts by a knock on your door. You frown and cautiously walk to it, picking up your gun from its hiding place under the coffee table.

It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry, right?

You take a peek from the peephole and immediately roll your eyes, lowering your gun while opening the door.

“I guess you weren’t expecting company.” Bucky says, more amused than anything when he sees the gun in your hand.

You make no attempt to try and hide your annoyance as you roll your eyes again. “What are you doing here, Barnes?”

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you just don’t know him all that well if not only thanks to the stories Steve shared of him in the 40s.

“I thought I’d make sure you were okay. You ran out of there pretty fast.”

“Yeah, well, he’s gone. It’s a done deal, don’t see why I had to stick around.” You say crossing your arms defensively. 

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind your response as he simply leans on the doorway and keeps talking. “He was disappointed not to see you.”

You frown, beyond confused by a single and simple sentence. Bucky smiles and elaborates. “He lived a life. And he’s old now, but still alive.”

“Oh.” is all you can say. Steve old? You can’t even imagine it.

“He gave the shield to Sam.” Bucky continues, just making conversation.

“Really? I would’ve thought he’d give it to you if he had to choose.” Bucky frowns a little and tilts his head, seeming genuinely confused.

“Why would he give it to me?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, you were his best friend, you’re a supersoldier. I guess I just assumed.”

“None of that matters, Sam is a good man. He deserves it.” He argues, then quickly adds. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

You grin and nod, then say. “For what it’s worth you’re a good man too, Bucky. Steve thought the world of you, trust me. He never stopped thinking highly of you.”

That was nothing more than a simple reassurance for you, but for Bucky it was so much more than that.

He knew you were talking about his time as the Winter Soldier. You were telling him that, even knowing about all that, Steve never let that influence his opinion of his former best friend. He still knew who Bucky was, deep down.

Bucky never heard words like that coming from anyone that’s not Steve, and you said it so casually, like you really believe it and to you it’s no big deal to just say it.

But for him, it was everything.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment Bucky started falling for you.

“Why are you checking up on me, Bucky? Really?” You say after a moment, breaking the silence that fell between you.

“Steve made me promise to take care of you before he left.” He said simply.

Bucky didn’t know it then, but that was the moment your heart broke completely.

You managed to keep yourself from breaking right then and there, but Bucky could see that something was wrong.

He didn’t push it though, making conversation a little more before saying goodbye with the promise that he’d be back the next day.

And that’s what he did.

In fact, he came back everyday, no matter what, to check on you.

It started out as quick visits where he wouldn’t even enter the door, then you started inviting him in for coffee because you felt bad he came to Steve’s apartment everyday, always refusing to let you meet him somewhere else. 

After a while you started inviting him for meals, to watch a movie or just to hang out.

You almost didn’t know how, but at one point you started to really look forward to Bucky’s visits everyday, getting excited every time he knocked on the door.

It was the best part of your day, really.

You knew Bucky felt the same, it was like you both knew what was slowly happening between you and you had a silent understanding not to discuss it.

You also never discussed your feelings for Steve, but you felt like Bucky somehow knew nonetheless. 

But the more time you spent with Bucky the more those feelings seemed to fade.

You still loved Steve, still missed him, you could feel yourself letting go of him with every time you spent time with Bucky, every time he made you laugh, every time your hands would accidentally touch.

You could feel yourself falling in love with Bucky and, this time, it felt right. This time you didn’t even try to stop it. 

And it seemed like Bucky felt the same way.

Time after time he became more bold with his flirting, with physical touch, until eventually he was shamelessly hitting on you and cuddling you every time he could.

And, when you made no attempt whatsoever to stop him, it was the only signal he needed to keep going.

One day, after about a year of his daily visits, he couldn’t hold back anymore and kissed you, overjoyed when you kissed him back. He asked you out right after and you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

It was the best first date of your life, but to be fair you’d been hanging out and basically dating for almost a year, so it felt simple. Effortless and uncomplicated. 

It was everything both of you needed. Your feelings for Steve were almost gone now, which is why you couldn’t even begin to explain what happened yesterday.

You were out with Bucky, hand in hand as you walked around the park, just enjoying the sunshine, when you could swear you saw Steve, not old Steve but your Steve, just standing there, looking at you and Bucky.

It was for a second, you merely glanced in his direction and by the time you turned back he was gone. 

Bucky didn’t notice anything, if not only the way you tensed and stopped in your tracks.

You thought about telling him what you thought you saw, but even you knew how crazy you would’ve sounded. So you said nothing and shrugged it off.

Because it was nothing.

Right? 

[bottleblondefeelingconned]

This is probably extremely weird, but I have an idea for a DSMP x Fate Holy Grail War AU

Okay, for starters for those who don't know, a Holy Grail war is when the manifestation of legends of "Heroes" are summoned (Servants), and they and their Masters compete Battle Royale style to the death. The winning Master and Servant get their wishes granted from the Holy Grail.

There are seven classes of Servants:

1. Sabers

2. Lancers

3. Archers

4. Riders

5. Casters

6. Assassins

7. Beserkers

Seven Servants and seven Masters. There's normally a Ruler Servant who oversees the Holy Grail War and makes sure non-participants.

This is how it's supposed to work in theory. It normally doesn't, for spice ✨

Feel free to look at posts I've reblogged or TV Tropes for a better understanding of the framework.

Back to the AU idea, it involves the DSMP, but in a more modern setting. Normally, the Holy Grail War is supposed to take place in Fuyuki, Japan (the OGs: Fate Stay Night, Unlimited Blade Works and Heaven's Feel, but it has happened in America (Fate Strange Fake) Romania (Fate Apocrypha) and the Moon (Fate Extra) among others.

First of all, I'll begin with Tommy, because I had an epiphany as to who his servant should be. Here me out: Beserker Servant, Kriemhild.

Kriemhild (from the German Nibelungenlied) was a tragic figure. Her husband was the heroic and selfless Siegfried (slayed the dragon Fafnir with Balmung) who was murdered along with their only child Gunther due to Kriemhild and her family being betrayed by her older brother Gunther (son was named after brother to add salt into the wound) and Hagen in order to get access to the treasure (originally Fafnir's) that was rightfully Kriemhild's inheritance. Kriemhild also had a brother called Giselher who says he's on Kriemhild's side but just doesn't do anything and helps out his brother and Hagen. The vengeful window then married Etzel, the epic's Attila the Hun (a pagan when she was Christian, a Big Thing back then) and by god did she get her bloody, bloody revenge on the family who took everything from her. Back then, however, a girl turning against her family like that, despite them murdering her husband and son was despicable, and thus she went down in history as a crazed villainess. Oh, Hagen killed the son she had with Eztel too, just to add salt to the wound. Just to be clear though, Kriemhild is tragic, but she also got a lot of innocent people killed, and was the downfall of both the Burgundians and the Huns. Her story is essentially a dark exploration of the lengths one has to go to and the lines one has to cross to conduct revenge.

Moving onto why I think she should be partnered with Tommy:

Tommy is a child soldier who while looks selfish is actually super selfless (fought in L'mangburg war, lost two lives for it, gave up his discs for country's independence, fought Dream the villain, etc.), who was exiled twice by his nation and was backstabbed by his friends and family (Tubbo (under sympathetic circumstances) was forced to exile him, Wilbur hurt him while mentally ill and ultimately abandoned him to go to fucking Utah, Techno betrayed Tommy first, he offered him to Dream when he and Tommy were supposed to be friends), Tommy thought Dream was a friend until he realised how fucking evil he really was, Sam failed to rescue him from the prison, and Tubbo and Ranboo fucked off and got married when Tommy needed them (I love them but I can admit they fucked up there).

My point is: Tommy is a tragic child who was hurt and betrayed by everyone he ever loved, but holds no ill will towards them because he's that good of a person (even empathises with fucking Dream: "how do you not hurt?")

And you know who that seems similar to fate's interpretation of? SIEGFRIED

Kriemhild would see Tommy and know that a person who puts everyone's else's happiness before themselves is doomed to tragedy, just like Siegfried (and while her brother and Hagen murdered him in cold blood, she also feels guilty because she Told them Siegfried's weakness (his back, man was literally backstabbed by his brother-in-law and friend) because she Trusted her brother and it costed her Everything), and Tommy's also young enough to remind her of her innocently murdered sons Gunther and the one she had with Eztel too (points for Tommy also being murdered by Dream, a semi-older brother figure).

I think she'd feel protective of Tommy because of it. Tommy would remind her that there's still good people in the world and Kriemhild would hopefully get Tommy to stand up for himself and learn that it's okay to hate people who hurt you.

I just reckon you'd have a really interesting relationship between the two.

Other characters I'd have are:

Wilbur (returned from Utah so we get that angst)

Dream

Quackity

Techno

Sam (working with Quackity)

And someone else

I'm not too sure on all the Servants yet, but I have two ideas:

Quackity - Ushiwakamaru (Rider)

Quackity acts heartless but he's a softie at heart who is full of love but refuses to ever let him get hurt again. He was in an abusive relationship and killed his abuser before eating his heart, because he's just that metal. Quackity tortured Dream for what he did to Tommy (I personally headcanon that Quackity gave Dream the same scars that green bitch gave Tommy. Quackity would look out for Tommy, but not in an obvious way. He has his Cool Persona, after all.

Quackity needs someone loyal to him but someone who isn't afraid to be pragmatic and play dirty. That's Ushiwakamaru to a T (homegirl has killed kids before [Babylonia]). Not only would Quackity be secretly So Concerned that this kid is a Servant, but you also have Ushiwakamaru's backstory in being betrayed by her older brother Minamoto-no-Yoritomo. Fate's appeal is how different characters from across space and time interact with one another, and you have delicious parallels with Kriemhild (Ushiwakamaru loves her brother while Kriemhild fucking hates hers) as well as Tommy (his messed up pseudo brother relationship with Wilbur, Techno and even Dream), and all these characters' philosophies to it all.

My second idea is for Techno's Servant. He's obsessed with Greek mythology, so you'd think I'd pair him with someone strong like Achilles, or Hercules or Castor and Pollux. Here me out though: Jason. Jason is a slimy man whose a brilliant tactician and works best when cornered. The story of Jason and Medea is well known. We all know how Jason betrayed Medea (he did point out how terrifying a woman who murdered her innocent little brother for you is though) which lead to Medea killing their children and eventually Jason died penniless and alone, crushed by his own ship with no one to mourn. A classic greek tale of hubris. Let's make it clear though, I love both Medea and Jason (hard not to after Atlantis).

I think Jason's reaction to Kriemhild would be interesting. A homicide woman triggers his Medea Button, plus he has regrets about how he treated Medea (if Fate [Greek]) allowed it, they could have been happy together, OSP does a good video on it if you're interested), and he loved his kids. He might see a bit of them in Tommy, the only child in the Holy Grail War.

I can personally see Dream and Techno teaming up too, and Jason would be so creeped out and disgusted by Dream. I also think Kriemhild would have it out for Techno too, a backstabbing 'older brother' triggers her Gunther Button.

I'll add to this later, but tell me your ideas please I want this to be a multi-person project.

Just note, I want to include the good and bad elements of a person's character. That's what makes them interesting. Point out their flaws too.

[capulated-canthea]

tell us more about your ocs plz

yesyesyes i love my ocs so much. theres my main two ocs, Justin Hunt and Hunter Dillon, who i originally got the idea for justin from the concept ‘bard that only plays mid 2000s country music’, and who then evolved into non-dnd character. as for hunter, I made him after this, as justins childhood friend and eventual lover (hes a baseball player, not sure why i feel the need to add this). i have an entire timeline for them, but the general recap of it is that hunter loves his childhood friend justin, he confesses love but justins homophobic (this entire plot takes place in southern usa late 2009 and they grew up in conservative families) and their entire friendship is ruined in a single day, they go through 4 months of absolute hell not talking to eachother, then get out of as lovers somehow. theres also a second part to the story but thats not needed to know them. these two are constantly microwaving in my mind.

theres also my various dnd characters i play, heres a list of them, though i cant say everything about them because some of the players in the same campaign as them follow my tumblr;

Bucatar Farmece (name is just chef magic in romanian, the campaign i play him in is set in distant future romania after many, many disasters have hit it and its changed a lot). His just a chef wizard. he has a pet rat called Chicken Noodle Soup as well.

Adzarath (i know the name is the same as another fictional character, it was entirely a coincidence). he has intense bloodlust, and will try to kill anything he sees.

Falk Kos, cant say much because theyre supposed to be mysterious

Jolly Joy Bright, who is almost never jolly, joyful, or bright, and is instead always crying or complaining about something. hes just the poorest littlest meowest meow.

Ika (slightly based on kanata shinkai from enstars), a half human half sea monster guy raised by his mother to believe he was a god, and now that hes away from her, hes starting to question what his mother taught him.

i havent played both jolly and ika yet but im very excited to, and thank you for asking anon!

[merv606]

Since Moldova’s official language is Romanian, maybe Terry can teach some words to Daniel eventually. Show him he trusts him even if he doesn’t. It would be so horrible for Daniel to be forced to live in a country where he cannot understand anything. I looked up the country, and I saw that American citizens can stay there for up to 60 days with a Visa. I feel like more time than that has passed in Mercy, so I suppose Terry got a residence permit, and contacted the government of Moldova. I did come across that Moldova isn’t really a gay-friendly/LGBTQ friendly country, so I wonder if Terry and Daniel will have some issues with that eventually. I did look up a list of countries that extradite to USA and funnily enough, Vietnam doesn’t. Wonder why Terry didn’t choose to go there 🤣🤣🤣

🇷🇴

I could see Daniel wanting to learn - guy is like a little sponge.

“Can you teach me?”

And of course, Terry can’t say no to his boy when he asks him for something.

Terry didn’t go to Vietnam because I have always wanted to go to Romania - and fun fact - it was originally set in Romania but when the idea of extradition popped in my head I changed it to Moldova as Romania does allow for extradition.

Although on the topic of Vietnam, I doubt it holds good memories for Terry, at any rate.

I mean, for the most part - they’re safely touched away but if they were to go to a market or whatnot - no, they wouldn’t exactly be flaunting it.

[vladdocs]

Dracula's Life from 7 to 14 - Part 1 By Lyzhina Svetlana Sergeevna (Лыжина Светлана Сергеевна) Original in Russian: http://samlib.ru/l/lyzhina_s_s/dracula_7_14_1.shtml Annotation: Dracula's life from age 7 to 14 is the darkest period in his biography. Most authors do not even try to look into this darkness, but jump straight from childhood in Transylvania to the Turkish captivity, mentioning growing up as far as it goes. I will not, however, do so... The period from age 7 to 14 is important primarily because this is when Dracula began to realize himself as a Romanian. Before the age of 7, the world is pretty narrow for a person: mom, dad, grandparents and other relatives. Before the age of 7, a child does not really care about his own nationality, because he does not yet fully understand what it is. But after the age of 7, the horizons widen, and such notions as "small motherland" and "big motherland" appear. Dracula saw his Romanian homeland for the first time when he was about 7 years old, and, apparently, this first meeting made a strong impression on him. First time in his homeland In the summer of 1436, Dracula's father took over the Romanian throne and moved his family from Sighisoara to Tirgoviste, the Romanian capital of that time, no later than the fall of the same year. As a result, the life of the 7-year-old Dracula changed abruptly: 1) he now heard Romanian speech not only from his household, but also from everyone around him. 2) Home services were replaced by visits to the temple, rich and beautiful, and the services there were conducted to the highest standard, as a well staged theatrical performance. 3) The attitude of those around him changed. Everybody bowed to little Dracula like to the king's son, and even his peers, 7-year old boys like him, were obliged to bow. 4) the way of life changed - many new servants appeared, and the dwelling became much more spacious. _ _ _ _ Historical note: The house in Sighisoara was relatively small - 25x11 m in length and width, if we do not count the inner courtyard and the side passageway. At the same time the palace in Targoviste in the mid 1430s was 32x29 meters in length and width. It is not difficult to calculate that in terms of area it was almost twice as big as the house in Sigishoara. And that again without taking into account the adjoining territory enclosed by a fortress wall of 250x20 m. On this territory there was a temple built specially for the prince and his courtiers, as well as household premises. In addition there were extensive gardens and vegetable gardens, as well as ponds for trout breeding. They were necessary because the palace regularly hosted feasts at which enormous quantities of all kinds of food were eaten. _ _ _ _ We cannot say whether Dracula accepted his new life with delight or was embarrassed, but the boy saw the mood of his parents, who were clearly happy about what was happening. This should have led the child to believe that he, too, should be happy. Intensified Learning The only thing that definitely did not make little Dracula happy was his studies, because after he moved to Targoviste, his education was taken seriously. In textbooks on the history of pedagogy, you can read that all countries that have adopted the culture of the Byzantine Empire, along with Orthodoxy, adopted the system of teaching children. Romania is no exception in this sense. As in all other Orthodox countries, teaching followed the principles formulated by John Chrysostom: 1) simplicity of life, without excesses (so that the child would not fall into a dependence on comfort); 2) education with an emphasis on spiritual values (and contempt for material things); 3) strict control (parents watch where the child goes, what he/she does, what he/she says) 4) possibility of corporal punishment in case of disobedience (Chrysostom suggests "flogging"). Education had three levels: primary, secondary, and higher. They began to study (I repeat) at the age of 6-7 years old. Primary education was completed before the age of 12. Secondary education was

completed at the age of 17. It turns out that Dracula never received a higher education, because he was sent to the Turks at the age of about 14. No one in Turkey followed the Byzantine system of education. Dracula's higher education was replaced by lessons in the Turkish language and Turkish customs... But back to Dracula's elementary education. Elementary School Elementary education included four subjects: - arithmetic (counting on fingers, on pebbles, and in mind), - grammar (in this case Slavonic), - rhetoric, - philosophy (philosophy in the Middle Ages was perceived as the first step toward the study of "higher philosophy" - theology). The process of teaching itself was a little different from today - the children sat together, but each student was taught separately by the teacher. The grammar was taught on the basis of the texts of the Holy Scriptures and the lives of the saints. Rhetoric was modeled on the works of the same John Chrysostom. In the beginning, during the lessons of rhetoric children were supposed to retell the contents of texts and tell them by heart, and when children accumulated enough knowledge, the teacher arranged eloquence contests between pupils, where they were supposed to support their words with appropriate quotations. It is difficult to say whether Dracula competed with his elder brother, because the practice of competitions existed only in Byzantium, but, for example, in Russia such competitions did not exist. In addition, all forms of rivalry between Dracula and his older brother should have been opposed by the tutors, because in the family of Dracula on the paternal line practiced a special system of state management - the king had a co-helper in the person of the younger brother. About this writes researcher M.Kazaku. Dracula's grandfather Mircea the Old was at one time co-ruler of his elder brother Dan, and when his brother died, Mircea ruled alone. Dracula's father, Dracul Sr. was at one time co-ruler of his older brother Mihai, and when Mihai died, Dracul Sr. ruled alone. Dracula himself must also have been indoctrinated from a young age to be his brother's helper. An assistant, not a rival! All training and education of Dracula should be subordinated to this idea - Dracula should be prepared to help his brother and carry out all his orders, and in case of his brother's death he should continue his work. That is to say, he should continue it, and not do anything on his own! Dracula could think of no other fate, for he had before him the example of his father and grandfather, and in the Middle Ages the power of tradition was unusually strong. Apparently, when Dracula was sent as a hostage to the Sultan, he was encouraged by the same words about the need to help the elders: "Living with the Sultan, you will help your father and older brother a lot. And Dracula must have believed it, but later, when his father and older brother died suddenly, Dracula could not immediately get his bearings. He found himself in a role as an older man for which he was not at all prepared. He had no time to be instructed what to do and how to do it, so he had to decide everything on his own, to break his usual worldview and generally learn to be a leader... But here we are, once again, off-topic. Middle School According to the Byzantine system, the secondary level of education included the study of three new subjects: geometry, music, astronomy. Geometry, Dracula and his brother, of course, studied. In addition, it is known that as early as the 11th or 12th century, a collection of quotations from Aristotle about mathematics appeared in Slavic. These quotations together formed a coherent system, so that children in Slavic countries studied from this collection as from a textbook. Music in those days meant learning church singing, but it is unlikely that Dracula and his brother had time for that, because the Byzantine educational system in the Middle Ages did NOT include physical training, and sovereign's children needed this training. The physical training in the case of Dracula and his

brother was military training, where the pupil had to master 3 skills: 1) the ability to fight on foot; 2) the ability to fight on horseback; 3) the ability to command an army so as to lead it to victory. Perhaps the list of disciplines Dracula had to study after the age of 12 also included history and politics. Perhaps, the list also included Latin, but here we can not say anything for sure, because according to the Byzantine system of education all this (Latin, history, politics) belonged to the higher level of education, which, as we know, due to a number of tragic circumstances Dracula did not reach. Practical results of "Byzantine" education In a number of articles about Dracula one can read that he was supposedly a savage and ignorant - a kind of Neanderthal, but not with a club, but with a stake, who got an idea of culture only thanks to the years spent in "enlightened" Turkey. However, all this is nonsense! Dracula was educated before Turkey, and everything I've said here about the Byzantine system of education used in Romania for the education of the sovereign's children - not just a guesswork. All of this is confirmed in historical documents. From the texts that have survived from the time of Dracula, we can see that the Romanian rulers were literate people, read spiritual literature and were able to speak beautifully. For example, the beginning of the charter from May 20, 1388, which was dictated by the grandfather of Dracula, Mircea the Old. This charter is a gift to the monastery, but before going on to enumerate what will be given to the monastery, the prince reasons about God as well as a theologian: "Whom the Spirit of God guides, they are the sons of God, says the holy apostle, and to him echoes every one who values truth and does good works, desiring to receive eternal life - to leave earthly things on earth for the reward in heaven. Blessed are those who have heard the good voice, for they hear it always: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. In the same way, I, believing in Christ God and Christ-loving and autocratic voivode and lord of all the land of Ugrovlakh, <...> as much as I can, want to follow this voice and glorify God, who glorified me and in glory enthroned me on the throne of my parents". That's how he bent it! Here are the results of the rhetoric lessons, which were part of the first level of education according to the Byzantine system! No wonder that everyone liked these words of Mircea. It is no coincidence that in his letter of December 12, 1424, uncle of Dracula, Prince Dan II, reproduces them, and then another relative of Dracula, Prince Alexander Aldea, does the same in his letter of June 25, 1436. Dracula himself quotes this statement in his charter of April 16, 1457. And here is how Dracula's father weaves verbal lace in his letter of August 2, 1439: "And who dares <... > violate my approval and command, such let the Lord God strike with his terrible and just judgment, and let the Holy Lady of the Theotokos speak against this man, and let him be damned on behalf of the seven holy ecumenical councils, and let him be counted among those who, like Judas and Arius, denied the Lord, and all those who betrayed the Lord to death". Of course, many edicts in those days ended with a standard curse on possible violators, but Dracula's father added to this curse, which most modern readers can appreciate only after they look in an encyclopedia. Can you tell at a glance what "ecumenical councils" and "Arian heresy" are? But Dracula's father could! And, apparently, he knew church history. That is, he was highly educated. As for Dracula himself, we can judge the level of his education by his statements, which, of course, distorted by numerous retellings, but the essence remains. For example, the episode with the Turkish ambassadors who did not remove their headdresses under the pretext that the "law" forbade. "And I want to follow your law," says Dracula, "so that you may hold fast to it. In doing so, he almost quotes

the Gospel, which says, "I have not come to break the law, but to fulfill it." And think of the burned beggars: "...I delivered them, so that they would not suffer in this world from poverty or from disease. The very course of Dracula's reasoning leads us to believe that this ruler in his time studied both the Holy Scriptures and rhetoric. Travels around the country In addition to "book sciences" and "warfare" in Dracula's education was one more component, and a very important one - study tours around the country, i.e. in Romania. However, Dracula had to perceive these trips in a different way than his older brother, because the older brother was prepared for the role of a ruler, and Dracula - for the role of an assistant to the ruler. Dracula's older brother perceived cities, villages, fields and forests as his future property. Dracula, seeing all the same, perceived it as his brother's property to be protected. If Dracula's older brother thought, "All this exists for me - for my needs and my pleasure," then Dracula thought, "I must take care of the preservation of it all. This is why in Dracula's behavior when he reached adulthood we find a motive not at all characteristic of the rulers of that time - the motive of service to one's country. Dracula was not brought up as a ruler, so even when he became a ruler, he did not get rid of the attitude that was hammered into his head throughout his childhood and adolescence - you were born to serve and help. He did all those things he did - eradicating crime, winning favourable trade conditions for Romanian merchants, waging war against the Turks - not for himself and not even for specific people. He did it all for Romania, which he called his "patrimony," not in the sense of his ownership of the land, but in the sense of his concern for it. This is how Dracula's notion of homeland was formed, which was Romania, although his early childhood took place in Transylvania.

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 40

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Chapter 40

Telling his own parents about being engaged to Hermione had welcomed a completely different — yet more predictable response — than it had with Hermione’s.

Where Robert and Jane had been pleased and joyous that their only child was happy and getting married, Molly had all but squealed with delight about how another of her children was engaged, while Arthur had beamed and congratulated them.

They’d been hugged, clapped on the back and told how happy everyone was multiple times in the space of ten minutes.

Molly had then said it was only right to have a small celebration and insisted they come over for dinner the next Saturday with the rest of the family.

Ron had left the Burrow feeling rather pleased with himself.

“Well, they took that well,” Hermione had said when they reached their house again, and Ron noticed a hint of relief in her voice.

He’d looked at her. “Were you worried?” he asked.

She’d flushed. “I mean, I wasn’t… I’ve just always gotten the feeling that maybe your mum thinks you could do better than… me…”

“What? Why?” Ron was genuinely surprised by that statement. His mother loved Hermione, and he’d assumed she’d known that.

“Well… I don’t know… it’s just… I’ve gotten the feeling… that’s all.”

Ron knew it wasn’t all, but he decided not to press the matter in that moment, instead choosing to assure her that his mum did like her and was genuinely very happy for both of them.

“Wait until she’s at the wedding,” he’d said. “She’ll be sobbing. Trust me.”

They hadn’t spoken of the matter since, and a week later they were once again at the Burrow with the rest of Ron’s family, celebrating his engagement to Hermione.

Ron beamed. For once everyone was there for him.

He’d come into the kitchen from the garden in search of some Butterbeers George had brought over in celebration of — as he had put it — Ron finally getting his act together. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his mother and oldest brother were having a rather loud conversation in the living room, their voices trailing into the kitchen.

“It’s just so lovely,” Molly was saying to Bill. “This will be our fourth wedding in a matter of years. It’s just George and Charlie left and… well… I’m not sure we’ll ever be attending a wedding of Charlie’s.” She sounded disappointed at that, but like she’d come to accept that her son had chosen a life that didn’t involve another person.

“I’m just happy for Ron and Hermione,” Bill said. “Ron’s chosen well, hasn’t he?”

“Oh, Hermione is such a lovely, young woman.” Molly sighed. “And she makes Ron so happy; it’s so good to see. He’s just so in love with her and it makes me happy to just see them together. I love it when they come over. Ginny said they used to argue a lot in their school days, but it seems they’ve gotten over that now and enjoy spending time together. Their house is beautiful, too. Hermione’s parents were very generous in helping them.”

Ron smiled to himself, picking up two bottles of Butterbeer and making a note to tell Hermione what he’d heard. He joined everyone else in the garden and passed Harry one of the drinks.

“Congratulations again,” Harry said, grinning.

“Thanks,” Ron replied, returning the smile. “And thanks for not being upset that we kind of stepped on your toes about it all. It’s just —”

“Why would I be upset?” Harry asked. “I stepped on your toes initially, didn’t I? Jumping in when I knew you were struggling. Maybe I should be thanking you.”

Ron laughed at that. He’d first been disappointed and slightly irritated when Harry had told him of his intentions to marry Ginny, but he’d also known it wasn’t Harry’s fault. Ron had never actually spoken to Harry about it, which he now realised had been a terrible mistake. Maybe if he had, Harry could have pulled him into line sooner and he’d not have waited almost a whole year before asking Hermione — and maybe he’d have gotten to do it in the way he’d originally intended.

But as the week drew on since he’d asked her, and the more times he’d told the story of how exactly he and Hermione had come to be engaged, the more he liked the way it had happened. It was sudden, unplanned, and in its own way, romantic. He’d been left with only one choice before Hermione considered him some liar or gambler or something, and he’d just done it.

People laughed, but not at him. They laughed with him, because the story was funny and much more enjoyable than the classic ways Bill, Percy and Harry had all proposed.

For once, Ron was the one who’d done something different.

“Nah,” he eventually said. “You were smart; I was not. Not your fault.”

Harry smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “I know it may not seem like it at times, but I’m genuinely happy for both of you. You are my best friends in the whole world, and I’m so glad that in spite of everything we went through, you managed to find each other and fall in love and do all those crazy things that we probably never thought was possible.”

Ron didn’t have time to respond, for Charlie wandered over, clapping Ron on the back.

“Congratulations, little brother,” he said cheerfully. “I was quite astounded when Mum told me that you were engaged that I just had to come and see it for myself.”

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Ron said, hugging Charlie.

Charlie shrugged when they broke apart. “Like I said, I had to come this time round. Quite the celebration, huh, especially because you could be here mourning the end of your relationship just as easy, so I hear.”

“I doubt that would have ended it,” Harry said. “Maybe they just wouldn’t have spoken for a week or two.” He smiled and Charlie laughed.

Ron scowled. “Yeah, alright,” he growled. “Have a laugh at my expense.”

“It is kind of funny,” Charlie reasoned. “And maybe a little romantic.”

“What do you know about romance?” Ron asked. “Last time I checked, I’ve had more girlfriends than you’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m rather the disappointment for Mum, aren’t I?” Charlie said, not sounding at all phased by that. “Working a dangerous job with no offspring to survive me if one of the dragons were to end me.” He leaned forward despite no one else being around, grinning mischievously. “Don’t ever say anything to Mum, but a few months back there was a genuine close call. Landed myself in hospital for three months.”

“So that’s why you never visited,” Ron said.

“Yeah.” Charlie shrugged. “They wanted to let Mum and Dad know, but I begged them not to. Mum would have dragged me home in an instant. But what do you expect when working with dragons?” He shrugged again.

“And on the girlfriend front?” Ron asked.

“Much too busy, very little interest,” Charlie said. “Happy for you, my brother, but definitely not for me this whole marriage, children… women thing.”

“What about men, then?” Ron asked. “I’m sure there’s a few fancible ones in Romania.”

Charlie laughed. “Can’t say there is. I’ve got the dragons and that keeps me fairly happy… and busy.”

Ron smiled, knowing well enough that that would be Charlie’s response, but he had thought he’d try anyway.

Charlie bid them farewell, only to be replaced by Hermione and Ginny. Now that they were both engaged, the girls had spent the whole evening talking about wedding things. Apparently, Ron had learnt, no matter how independent and strong-willed they were, the talk of their own weddings had them both gossipping like two school girls over what they wanted.

Ron had to admit that he quite liked this side of Hermione too, despite not seeing it very often.

“You two planned your weddings yet?” he asked.

“Oh, very funny,” Hermione said, frowning. “We were just discussing ideas, that’s all.”

“Already?” Harry asked, sounding rather bewildered.

“There’s a lot of planning involved with a wedding,” Hermione explained.

Ginny smiled, stepping forward and placing her arm around Harry’s waist. “Don’t worry, Harry, our wedding will be rather relaxed in comparison, I think.”

Ron’s eyes widened and he turned back to Hermione questioningly.

Ginny laughed, but Hermione didn’t seem to see the humour in it. She looked up at Ron and said plainly, “There’s no harm in being organised.” Her tone was a bit indignant, which caused Ginny to laugh even louder.

Ron grinned at Hermione, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and kissing her head. “I agree,” he assured her. “I want our wedding to be the best one ever, and if that means lots of planning… I can’t wait to talk about all the wedding things with you.”

Ginny gave him a very sceptical look, but Ron meant what he’d said. Marrying Hermione would be his greatest accomplishment to date — and also the thing that made him the happiest. He wanted to plan a wedding with her and he knew that Hermione wouldn’t take something of this magnitude lightly.

“Merlin, the two of you sicken me sometimes,” Ginny said, her face disgusted. “I hope you’re very happy together.”

Everyone laughed at that, and once again the small group disbanded, Ron and Hermione joining in on a conversation with Percy and Audrey and Bill.

They joined right at the end, and Ron knew that it wasn’t supposed to be for their ears, but it was out there now.

“Fleur’s pregnant again?” Hermione asked, sounding a little alarmed.

Bill turned to her, his face riddled with guilt. “Yes,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “Listen… I wasn’t going to tell you tonight — anyone, really — because this is your night, but —”

“Don’t apologise!” Hermione said. “That’s such wonderful news. Even more to celebrate. Oh, how wonderful. A little brother or sister for Victoire.”

“Yeah, congratulations,” Ron said, clapping his brother on the back. “I’m happy for you — and Victoire. I bet she’s excited.” He looked over to where Victoire was giggling loudly at something Arthur had just shown her.

“She doesn’t know yet,” Bill said. “A bit too young to understand, but I’m not convinced, truthfully. She gets upset if Fleur even looks at our cat. And it’s the end of the world if Fleur picks Séraphina up. I don’t know how she will go with a whole other human who takes the attention away from her.”

“The wonders of having children, huh?” Ron said.

“They’re delightful for the most part,” Bill assured them.

Ron grinned. “Can’t wait.”

The conversation moved on to other things after that, and everyone moved around, engaging in conversations with one person or another.

It was the most active Ron had ever seen his family since the war — even more so than when they’d been here just a few weeks back, celebrating Harry and Ginny.

It was wearing late into the evening, the only source of light being the lanterns Molly had lit around the table, when his mother approached him. She had a warm smile on her face and without saying a word, drew both him and Hermione into a tight hug.

She held them for some time before letting them go and Ron noticed a look of slight bewilderment on Hermione’s face. He remembered then that he hadn’t yet told her of the earlier conversation he’d overheard — about how thrilled his mother was about them getting married.

He supposed Molly could tell Hermione herself now.

“This really is such wonderful news,” she said cheerfully. “Every day gets just that little bit easier when I know that all of my other children are happy and creating successful and wonderful lives for themselves.”

Despite himself, Ron felt pride swell in his chest. He was creating a successful life for himself. He was an Auror — or would be soon — and he was now engaged to marry an even more successful and incredibly motivated woman whom he was super proud of and very much in love with.

“I just want you to know that this news has brought me so much happiness — but I’m sure not as happy as the two of you are feeling right now. I just know you will have a long and happy life together.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Ron said.

“And, Hermione?” Molly turned to Hermione, who seemed to bristle ever so slightly. “You’ve been part of this family for a very long time, but now it’s official.” She gave Hermione another hug, kissing her cheek. “Welcome, dear. I’m so happy you’re marrying my son.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Hermione said, rather exasperated, as they broke apart. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Molly gave them both another affectionate smile and left them standing by the dinner table. When she was out of earshot, Ron turned to Hermione, smirking. “Still think Mum doesn’t like you?”

Hermione flushed. “I never said…” She seemed resistant to smiling

“Yeah, you did,” Ron said. “You said you thought Mum didn’t like you. But she does. She loves you. Maybe not as much as I do, but she still loves you.”

His words seemed to crack her, her mouth finally curling up at the corners. “I suppose I was just still thinking of that time she came into your room and completely lost it because we were together.”

“What?” Ron said, staring at her. “That was why you thought… Hermione, you know why Mum was upset by that, and it had nothing to do with you. She told me afterwards that she thought you were lovely.”

“I know.” Hermione turned to face him. “I know. I suppose I just… I don’t know.”

Ron gathered her into his arms. “You’re part of this family whether you like it or not. And whether they like it or not.” He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “You’re my family and the best damn thing to ever happen to me. Even if Mum didn’t like you, she would just have to deal with it because you’re here to stay… unless, of course, you ever want out.”

Hermione chuckled against him and then murmured, “I don’t want that.”

“Good.” Ron held her tighter against him, resting his chin on top of her head. He looked ahead of him into the fading light, where the edge of the Burrow disappeared into the trees and beyond. “I’m so glad we’re finally here at this moment. Even if it took us a while… I’m glad we got here. I love you and I just want to spend every single day of my life from here on in with you.”

There was silence for a long time.

Then, “I can’t wait for the rest of our lives. I have never been happier.”

Ron smiled. And they both stood there, together.

[seriouslysam8]

Hullo, Sam. I have just finished reading Entombed and I think it was my favourite story so far, but again I am full of questions.

Thank you for writing such an amazing story. From showcasing more of Ron and Harry's incredible friendship to the love that Harry and Ginny share. I look forward to exploring more of the bond between Harry and his daughter as well. I just know she's going to be a daddy's girl. You write Luna so well. She's incredible. I love how you write all of the characters, but your Luna, George, and Ron are just some of the best if not the best I have ever seen.

Okay, here are my questions.

1) I like that Harry gave Sirius a tombstone next to his parents. Did they have a funeral for Sirius even though his body was never found? I think Harry would want to have a funeral.

2) There was a junior Auror who was terrified of Harry in chapter one of Entombed. Is that because he actually finds Harry himself scary or is he just intimidated by the fact that he’s Harry Potter?

3) Ginny has magical cuffs put on her and you said they aren’t used by Aurors anymore because they were found to fracture a person’s magic or to make them lose their magic after an extended period of time. Can you explain that? How did it affect their magic? How long did it take for that to happen? Will Ginny’s magic be damaged from it?

4) What made you decide to make files and records a drawer? I love the creativity of that!

5) Can you tell us more about Mrs. Johnstone? I feel that Harry’s secretary would have a cool backstory and would have to be someone Harry really trusted!

6) Does Ron have a secretary? Oh, I see you gave him someone named Oliver Wilson. Who is Oliver Wilson? Can you tell us more about him and how he and Ron get on?

7) Evangeline is an original character. I liked the add on. What inspired you to have her be a spy like that? Wait, is her name Evangeline Atkinson or Evangelina Atkinson? It is spelled with an a on the end more than once but not all the time?

8) Can you tell me about all of the Potter pets? How many do they have? When did they get them? What are their names? Does Ginny name all of them? Flumm is a funny name.

9) What made you decide to have Percy work in the Department of Magical Transportation and why the Floo Network?

10) Is Ginny going to have nightmares about this? Will you address it again in later stories that she maybe doesn’t like enclosed spaces? I couldn’t imagine her being okay with it after being buried alive?

11) What made you choose Padma to be a healer? Why Padma and not Parvati?

12) What was the verdict on the dinosaur question? I would have liked to hear Luna’s thoughts on the matter.

13) When James, Sirius, and Lily all visited Ginny in the hospital room so that Lily could tell her goodbye, why didn’t you include Fred?

14) Everyone being at the house makes sense, but again what about Charlie? Did he not hear his sister was buried alive? Did no know one tell him? Why isn’t he around in your world?

Thank you again.

I’m so glad you loved Entombed!! It is a special story to me. I simply love Lily’s birth.

1. No, they never held a funeral. There were so many funerals that summer that Harry was literally sick to his stomach after them. I picture him, Ginny, Andromeda, and Teddy just going to the gravesite and saying goodbye privately.

2. Just intimidated by the fact that he’s Harry Potter.

3. No, Ginny’s magic was not damaged by the cuffs as she didn’t wear them long enough. I had a thought during and after Voldemort’s first reign of power that the Ministry abused its powers. Obviously, they did because Sirius ever got a trial. Anyway, it was said nobody knew who worked for Voldemort on their own free will, who was hoodwinked, who was cursed. You didn’t know who to trust. There were obvious cases like Bellatrix Lestrange who was cut and dry guilty. Sent to Azkaban, boom. Then I had this thought of those who weren’t cut and dry and the Ministry just abusing their power. I had thoughts of them being held in holding cells, the magical suppression cuffs worn for weeks or even months at a time when they battled and fought over if that person was acting in their own free will or if they were hoodwinked. People losing their sanity, their magic, or having their magic fractured by the abuse of power. Some of them were guilty, some innocent. When Fudge took over, some of those policies were done away with since Crouch had implemented them and his name had been dragged through the mud.

4. I thought about Newt’s suitcase in Fantastic Beasts and thought it would be a fun idea just to hope in a drawer and have all the files in there.

5. Mrs. Johnstone had been with the Auror Department a long time, always working for higher rank officials. Harry always liked her because she told it like it was and cared about him but not in an overbearing way. She took care of things and was straight to the point. Harry needed someone like that. I never fully developed a backstory.

6. Ron chose the first person he interviewed because he couldn’t be bothered with a long search. Ron regretted that later on after he and Oliver started working together.

7. Huh, I never noticed I occasionally misspelled Evangeline’s name. It was always supposed to be with an E. Nobody has ever caught that or pointed it out before. I should go back and fix it all. Honestly, a spy fit with the story and I just had to decide who I wanted to be the spy.

8. I already answered your pet ask separately but yes, Ginny names or helps name them all.

9. It was in a post series tidbit so I kept it. I don’t keep all the post series tidbits but some of them I do.

10. Ginny definitely has nightmares and panic attacks for awhile. I haven’t addressed it in any other stories yet. If there was one written closer to Entombed, when it’s still fresh and raw, it would definitely be addressed.

11. Padma was in Ravenclaw, more studious. It seemed to fit her better.

12. Dinosaurs existed 😂😂😂

13. Fred knew it’d be too hard on her to say goodbye. It’s still hard to even talk about him. He is so greatly missed.

14. Charlie knew. He was in contact. He’s just busy getting in Romania and he was never really around in the books either.

[theliteraryvampire]

Take Your Heart In Your Teeth (11/?)

Warnings: None really, except talk about non-con blood drinking, plus actual blood drinking

Fandom:  BBC Dracula (Dracula x Reader)

Author’s Note: We’re getting into some drama, mawma. As always, comments/criticisms/feedback/reblogs/likes are appreciated!

-----------------------------------------------------

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t know?”

“Of course I didn’t know! Don’t you think I would have mentioned something if I did? I was hired to help you with this, technically! Wasn’t I?”

Dracula paused. I could tell that he was still uncomfortable with the fact that I knew he had lied to me, and I knew that he had, at first, wanted to kill me, a fact which I should have been uncomfortable with as well, but it was the truth, and I wasn’t going to shy away from it.

“I…” he got off the couch and walked over to me, gripping my hips in his hands almost possessively. “I don’t think you got that scar falling, (Y/N).”

“What are you saying?” My question came out hard, accusatory, but it was somehow hollow sounding, and I felt the pin prick of tears at the back of my eyes. 

“I’m saying that I think Nik drank your blood.” He pushed his thumb into my hip bone, into the scar, his voice stern.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. I pushed at his chest, pushed him away, needing my own space to breathe. I turned around and ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself down.

“Call Jack,” I finally said.

“...what?”

“This goes beyond us. I...I thought you,” I finally looked him in the eyes, and I sighed. “I thought you and Jack were the only...vampires...out there, and then you told me about Renfield, and now Nik...we very clearly don’t know how many vampires exist, and what that means, so, call Jack. Get him over here.”

“Fine.”

```

There was a knock at the door, but neither Dracula or I moved. He hadn’t said a word to me after he got off the phone, and I didn’t want to push him too far, not knowing what he could, or would, do. There was a knock again, but still, Dracula sat in his chair, brooding.

“Oh, no, let me,” I said sarcastically.

I walked into the foyer and in a huff I opened the door, not expecting—

“Sara?!”

“Hey!”

“Uh...hey. What are you…?”

“Um, hi, (Y/N),” Jack said, interrupting me. “I know I haven’t had a chance to...to say it but, I’m sorry for what happened.” Jack was sheepish and I could tell that he felt guilty.

“Thank you. I, um,” I held my hand up. “It’s healing so, you know...thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, but he shyly smiled. Walking into the apartment, he joined Dracula, leaving Sara and I alone. I turned to look at her fully, and I saw that her eyes were huge, taking in the place.

“You weren’t kidding when you said he was loaded,” she said slowly, stepping into the foyer. “And what are you wearing?” She tugged at the hem, studying the material, and then... 

“You had sex!” She whispered it, but it still came out too loud.

I looked over my shoulder at Dracula. He had his head down and he didn’t look at me, but I could see that the corner of his mouth was pulled up into a smirk. I turned back to Sara and put my index finger up to my lips, then pointed to my ear, gesturing to her to be quiet.

“So what if we did?” I harshly whispered back.

She peeked around my shoulder to look at Dracula, before turning her full attention on me. “So? He’s hot, dude! And you’ve been pining for him since the day you started working here!” She still wasn’t as quiet as I needed her to be.

I turned back to Dracula and this time he was looking at me, eyes intensely dark.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I muttered, “but this is serious.”

I led her into the living room where Dracula and Jack were, and I took a deep breath, trying to ready myself for what I was about to say. 

“Ok. Sara, I know you know this, but Jack, you don’t. In 2013, I was selected by a professor to go to Romania to study the ancient origins and modern day legends of vampires. We didn’t learn much, or, well, we didn’t learn anything that would have helped you and Dracula out but, there was this guy, our tour guide, Nik—”

“The hot one you slept with!” Sara chimed in. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Dracula had clenched his jaw. I gave her an agitated look.

“Yes, and—”

“(Y/N), you don’t...you don’t have to share that part with us.”

“Weirdly,” I sighed, “I do. I...slept with Nik, and I thought that, when I left his place, I fell, and, got this.” I lifted up the sweater to show my scar. “Except...I don’t think that’s what happened anymore. I brought over what I had of my research from that trip, hoping it would help Dracula and you, Jack, but, there’s this video, and...let me just get it.”

I held the laptop up to both Jack and Sara. There was immediate recognition in Jack’s eyes, and he looked at Dracula.

“Is he one of yours too?”

“No.”

Jack turned to me. “You think he drank your blood?”

“Almost positive. I have a gap in my memory that night, that I never even shared with you, Sara. I remember going to his place, and I remember...doing things...and then I remember him carrying me home, but everything else he just...told me what had happened. And I didn’t want to think about it, the possibilities, so...I didn’t.”

“You could have talked to me about it, though.” Sara’s voice was soft.

“Regardless, right now we have to focus on what this means. Dracula says he never turned Nik, and Jack, well, you were just turned two months ago, so, there’s other vampires in the world. Or, in Romania, at least.”

“Is that why Dracula couldn’t make you see things when he drank your blood, then?” Sara asked, and then, looking over to Dracula, she quickly added, “(Y/N) told me.”

“I...don’t know.” I felt dumbfounded, and I looked at Dracula myself, but it was obvious that he didn’t have an answer either. It wasn’t something we had even considered, but...

“Jack,” I said, turning to look at him, “I need you to drink my blood.”

“Excuse me?” This finally made Dracula speak up.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, (Y/N),” Jack admitted.

“It’s a great idea, actually,” I said, trying to psych myself into it. “It’s the only way we’ll find out.”

I took a step towards Jack and rolled up my sleeve, exposing my wrist. Jack looked down but didn’t budge.

“It’s ok, Jack. I…” I paused, before taking in a breath. “I trust you.”

He looked conflicted, glancing behind me at Dracula. Hesitantly, he took a step towards me, and then he grasped my arm. I felt Dracula against my back at once, very clearly not trusting Jack to be around my blood, and it was this possessiveness that both delighted and frustrated me.

“It’s ok,” I said again.

“What do you want, uh...what do you want to dream about?”

“Do you know those signs in midtown, with the New York Rangers? Near Penn Station?” Jack shook his head yes. “Ok. The goalie, Henrik Lundqvist, the one with the mask and glove, show me him winning the Stanley Cup.”

Jack smiled slightly, but once he looked down at my wrist, it turned into a grimace. He slowly brought my arm up, and with one last pause, he bit down. Just like before, I got flashes, but no full images. I saw Henrik Lundqvist in full gear, but then Jack was in front of me. I saw the Cup being hoisted in the air, so close to me that I could have touched it, but then Jack flickered back into view. Again I was back in the arena, though it didn’t look like it was supposed to, but before I could question it, there Jack was, grip tightening on my arm, becoming almost unbearable. 

My first instinct was to yank my arm back, but Jack had a strong hold on me, and he wouldn’t let my arm go. I tried once more to no avail, but before I could start panicking, I was being physically pulled back, harshly, pulled back into a solid chest, and I became fully aware of my surroundings, of Dracula behind me, of Jack in front, eyes clouded over.

“Sorry,” he said, and his voice sounded hoarse. I could see that he was visibly turned away from Sara, not wanting her to see my blood running down his chin, and I distantly thought that was nice. Considerate.

“Did it...work?” Sara asked, taking a step towards me. Dracula didn’t let me move away from him, refusing to let up the grip he had on my upper arm.

“No, it was just the same as before. I saw flashes, but Jack kept coming into view, too.” I put pressure on my wrist and willed my heartbeat to slow down.

“So…” Sara said slowly, thinking things over. “It didn’t work for Jack, and it didn’t work for you,” she looked at Dracula, then at me, “but you think it worked fully for Nik? Why would it only work for him?”

“Perhaps he’s...mutated or something,” came Jack’s reply.

“Can that happen? I mean, well, I guess you probably wouldn’t know.” Sara took Jack’s hand in hers and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles.

“I suppose it could happen. Vampires exist, after all, so it would make sense that there could also be mutations based on who was turned, what condition they were in, if they had any diseases…” Jack kept on rambling but I tuned him out, flashing back suddenly to what happened the day after I had slept with Nik.

“What if...what if it’s a claim?” I blurted. Jack and Sara turned to look at me, and Dracula’s grip on my arm tightened so hard I thought I’d lose circulation.

“Is claiming a thing?” Sara asked. I looked at the floor, trying my best to remember.

“...yes…” I said, hesitantly, drawing out the word.

“How do you know?” Jack’s tone was gentle.

“Because…” I paused, thinking. “Because I think Nik told me, after he bit me.”

[annhellsing]

Thirsty.

notes: i gave up near the end and this sucks but have the first original thing i’ve written in two years. it sucks, ha. rating: teen af pairing: dracula kinda / female reader. word count: 3,284

Autumn slouches in to the city a little late this year. The leaves don’t turn until halfway through October and you were doubtful that homey, fall chill would come at all. The mad sprint towards winter is awfully hard for the weather to pass up, you imagine.

But in the middle of the month, you’re greeted with red leaves and grey skies. It rains every other day and any lingering humidity evaporates into a wet kind of cold. It sticks to your clothes and your hair, a sharp breeze blowing off the lake freezes your fingers on the walk to work.

You have your phone in your hand on the 31st, outside the warmth of your jacket pocket. It rings for longer than you expect, the noise rattles around in your head this early.

So when it stops and the call time starts ticking, you almost don’t register the hesitant, “Hello?” on the other end.

“Oh!” you exclaim, “hi, I know it’s a little last-minute but I was thinking about being a vampire this year. But the thing is, I can’t find anywhere that’s still got teeth in stock. Could you check if you have any for me?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, you’re almost certain you can hear someone whispering. You hold the phone a little closer to your ear, tilting your head to try and hear what on earth is being said.

“It’s okay if you don’t—” you start, but there’s a sound like a frenzied gasp before the voice from earlier replies,

“You want to become a vampire?” they ask. It sounds like a man with an accent you can’t place. Without thinking, you laugh.

“Ideally, yeah. But all the usual places tell me it’s too close to Halloween, there’s nothing left. Shame on me for waiting, I guess. So, you got what I need?” the voice goes quiet again, but there isn’t any whispering to listen to.

“It can be arranged,” he says. You find yourself giggling again.

“That’s great, I’ll swing by around five,” perhaps the disembodied voice seems to sense the end of the conversation. There’s something frantic about the response.

“You know the way?” he says, “it’s quite remote,”

“Yeah,” you sound bemused. The man on the other end doesn’t sound so old to be unfamiliar with Google Maps. “Don’t worry about it. I’m in the area.”

There’s a muffled sort of sound, you can almost distinguish a, “Ah, yes, in that case—” before you’re greeted with more silence.

“I— cool, then. I’ll be there later on today. Have a good one,” you take the phone from your ear and tap the red button. The conversation ends.

Local costume stores are the weirdest, little places.

—

Have a good what? Dracula wonders why you were not more specific. His phone goes silent, the sound of a stranger’s voice still ringing somewhere in the high ceiling. It was like cold water thrown over him, both the scream from his device receiving a call and the idea of speaking to another person.

It’s dark in the chapel, lit only by braziers before the dilapidated organ at the end of the aisle. The sound of him playing nearly drowned out his ringtone, if it were for the infernal buzzing he might’ve missed the call. Fear grips him at tat.

He looks up at the bell tower that extends forever, turning over the conversation in his mind.

A hundred years of silence gave way to a very pleasant numbness after a while. His need for companionship dwindled, or perhaps he only wished it would. He grips the phone in a cold, tight fist and wishes he asked the name of his newfound companion.

But you’ll be here by five o’clock, apparently, though he knows not how. The why, on the other hand is clear. You wish to be like him.

He shoves the phone in his pocket, where he’d forgotten it for decades. How remarkable that its first and only connection would drag him forcibly from isolation. A century ago he might’ve been annoyed, might not have agreed so easily to such a commitment. But the promise of contact dissolves any hesitance on his part. He couldn’t feign disgust if he wanted to, not when this is perhaps his last chance.

The door to the main hall is ajar, spilling candlelight onto the stone. Worse still than the cathedral is the rest of the castle, he knows the state it’s in. And it won’t do for guests, certainly not ones who’ve expressed interest in staying here forever.

He takes two steps and thusly dematerializes, turning to smoke in a blink because he wills it so. The door is shut with a loud bang and a scattering of dust, Dracula’s allowed the place to crumble around him with no thought to its presentability.

There is a great deal of work to be done. He crosses the great hall in a blink, moving over old, brown bloodstains scattered on wood and a faded carpet.

It might, he thinks, be time to wake some help.

—

The costume store was a bust, the bell rings over your head as you leave empty handed. A bored teenager manning the front desk gestured vaguely to a picked-over rack and an absolutely tragic lack of something to pass as a vampire costume.

You thought it best not to ask after the man on the phone, she went back to browsing a magazine while you put up the pretence of shopping. Now, the cold bites your cheeks as you make the trek home.

Disappointment hangs heavy, but what did you expect? It’s the day before Halloween, the whole situation just snuck up on you. The sky is charcoal above your head, the light deciding that it’s had enough even on an overcast day. Soon, you’re walking in the dark down an abandoned street flanked by townhouses.

You can pick yours out of the bunch, it’s the one with the kitschy Halloween decorations scattered lovingly in the front yard. There’s an orange glow welcoming you, you consider that might just be more fun to stay in and hand out candy if you’ll be spending the holiday without a costume.

It doesn’t sound too bad, you suppose. You put your key in the lock and jiggle it slightly before it can turn. Inside is just as dark but decidedly warmer.

More important than any existential crises about what you’ll wear is how you’ll squirm out of the party you’ve been invited to. It seems like something of a cruel joke, to finally have plans only for life to eclipse them. You barely remember the host from high school and contemplate for a moment the embarrassment of being asked by strangers who you’re dressed as.

It’s not life-ending, but it wouldn’t be much fun.

You settle on the couch, reaching without looking to turn on the table lamp. In your other hand, you unlock your phone. It opens to the same page you landed on just before that strange, brief call earlier this morning.

The phone number’s written out on the costume shop’s website. Out of pure curiosity, you dial it up again.

“Corrine’s Costume Castle,” a familiar voice says over the phone. But it isn’t the man, you must be speaking to the girl at the counter. “How can I help you?”

“Hi— uh,” at this distance it might be safer to mention the other person you spoke to, “I had a chat with another employee earlier today, we talked about what was in stock. Could I speak with him?”

A pause, then, “Nobody else’s been in today,” the girl replies. She sounds like her nose is still half-buried in the magazine. “Maybe you got the wrong number? There’re a couple other costume shops, like, a stone’s throw away.”

“That’s probably it, whoops,” you tell her, perhaps a little too quickly, “thanks, have a good one.”

The line goes dead. You pull up the list of recent calls, looking to the one right below what you just dialled. You grip your phone a little tighter.

There’s an extra digit. Whatever number you called this morning, it wasn’t anywhere local. You were tired, your finger must’ve slipped and hit one number too many. And it made a great deal of difference.

—

He keeps time with the grandfather clock at the end of the dining room. Its large face and iron hands tell him it’s nearly nine in the evening. Long, thin fingers tap glass-like nails on the table. The blood in his glass has coagulated.

And still you have not arrived. Dracula is too cynical to be panicked, or to assume you’ve somehow lost your way. If it weren’t for the single number, your number trapped in his phone screen he might wonder if he imagined the whole thing. All his excitement and for nothing.

Glaring at the top half of his flip phone solves nothing, however. He shoves the glass of blood away and it falls over onto the table with a thud. Red blood gone cold and slimy trickles out, on to the tablecloth. In a flash, a man materializes and quickly removes the unwanted offering.

But the stain will stay, Dracula knows. He glances at it before turning his eyes back to your number. A brief pause before he decides what he’ll do.

Inhaling needlessly, he clicks the redial button and watches his phone spring to life. It doesn’t feel like very long at all, despite his mounting anxiety, until you pick up.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he hears. No hello, no hesitance.

“You are late,” he replies, keeping his tone very cool. Despite his inclination to think the worst, Dracula is coldly polite. You sputter on the other end of the line, it’s not exactly encouraging.

“Oh, man, listen—” you cut yourself off, “your area code is in Romania and I am decidedly nowhere near there.”

“Why would you insist you were nearby if you were not?” Dracula asks, the ice in his voice unmistakable.

“I didn’t actually know it was you I was calling,” you try to explain, “I dialled the wrong number, I just didn’t realize it.”

“It was a mistake?” he asks. And, just there, just around the edges is the faint trace of disappointment he’s tried to conceal. Perhaps you realize how much he’d been hoping.

“I thought you were a costume shop I live near, I wanted to go as a vampire for Halloween,” he exhales sharply, just as needlessly. As if what you’ve said is preposterous.

“I should have known,” he grits his teeth, the ends of his fangs press against his bottom lip. Such is the sudden pain in his chest that he can’t bring himself to care if you can hear it.

“Who are you?” you ask it, very slowly. He considers what he’s saying, what you must think of him and his jaw unclenches. You might hang up if he scares you, he grips the phone tight enough that the plastic is in danger of giving way.

“The name may not be familiar to you any more,” he begins. But to his great surprise, you laugh uneasily.

“That’s kind of the point when talking to strangers,” you tell him.

“In this case, it is somewhat different,” he says, “I asked if you wanted to become a vampire because it is a wish I can grant.”

“You’re a vampire?” you ask, sounding more bemused than incredulous. He doesn’t know why he cares if you believe him. “Like, Dracula? That isn’t your name.”

“How astute,” he replies, “yes, like Dracula. But that is my name.”

There’s a clunking sound from the other end of the line. What you say is rude and barely audible, he pushes his chair back from the table and stands.

“Pick up the phone,” he says, to his horror it’s more of a question than a demand, “please?”

“Shit, that’s—” your voice gets closer again. And though it sounds breathless and disbelieving, it’s still beautiful to hear. “You have to be kidding me.”

“I assure you that I am not,” he replies. He’s greeted by your nervous giggle.

“That’s— shit,” you finally decide. Dracula’s laugh is significantly more stilted, like the rustling of reeds.

“So you have said,” he seems just as startled by his own laughter as you.

“I mean, the logical progression of that is can you prove it?” you ask, but some of that earlier mirth slips back into the way you say it.

“Well, if you cannot make the journey here—” he starts.

“You think I’m going to let a vampire in my house?” you tease. Part of him wonders why you’re still on the line, even Dracula’s aware of the dissonance. “And one I barely know at that?”

“It was only a suggestion,” he replies.

“I want to believe you, actually,” you say, your voice sounds softer. Perhaps a little sad, “for a lot of reasons.”

“Why is that?” he reclines in his seat, propping his elbow against the armrest. The phone is still clenched in his hand.

“Maybe I’d be less alone,” you say it like it’s nothing, but his still heart gives a strange lurch.

Dracula’s hand errantly finds his chest, he presses his palm to his sternum but finds no movement. There is no source of the sharp pain in him, so distinct from but nevertheless in conjunction with loneliness.

“I am not lying,” he sounds perhaps more insistent than he ought. He worries briefly that he might offend or terrify. “I swear it.”

“On what?” you ask. To his delight, you brighten a bit.

“My own grave,” he replies, to a specific end. And it works, he hears your soft shout of laughter so many miles away. It’s a warm sound.

“Do you get lonely? In Romania?” you sigh and seem to regret saying it the second it’s said. Dracula hums.

“You are the first I have spoken to in a century,” he admits, “I think I am only beginning to understand how lonely it can be.”

“Wow,” you sound less incredulous, unflinching, “will you laugh at me if I offer up comfort?”

“Why would I do that?” he knows before you answer.

“In case this is a prank,” you tell him, “or you’re not who you say you are.”

“Whatever you choose to believe, I will not laugh,” is all the reply you get.

“That sounds like a level of isolation I don’t fully understand, honestly,” you seem to make your decision, “provided it’s true.”

“There is a reason I do not want you to hang up again,” he says, “considering I will be receiving no company this evening.”

“I won’t hang up,” you tell him, “I haven’t talked to anybody I know since I got an invite to this Halloween party.”

“Which is why you needed the costume,” he says, the pieces start to fit together. You hadn’t meant to call, that’s true, but he has a promise from you.

“Yeah, exactly. I put it off and now I’m stuck,” you say, “I wanted to be a vampire but it didn’t work out.”

“What I offered is considerably more permanent,” he says, he can hear the smile in your voice.

“I guess so, but I don’t know if I stand by my original hesitance,” you say, “unless you’re actually just crazy. Now you’ve given me hope!” you exclaim. But you sound uncertain, especially uncertain. “It’d solve a lot of problems, being a vampire.”

“Perhaps, but it creates many of its own that are distinct,” Dracula says. He’s become careless with his tone, settled into his chair.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, “but it’s been such a long time since anything happened to break up the monotiny. It’s just nice to dream.”

“I have been without companions like myself for considerably longer than a hundred years,” he says.

“Don’t you have brides?” you ask. Dracula hums and the sound is humourless.

“An exaggeration,” he dismisses. You choose not to press it.

“At least I go to school with other humans,” you tell him, “would you really turn me after a half-hour conversation?”

“If that is what you wanted after all,” he replies. Dracula blinks and shifts again in his seat.

The conversation is one he never expected at all, he hadn’t the faintest idea where it would lead. But it has turned sharply, come full circle with a new understanding shared by the both of you.

But then, there is a change.

“Oh, dammit,” you mutter, sounding distant from the speaker.

“What is it?” Dracula asks, “what is wrong?”

“Nothing, sorry,” you reply, “I just got a look at the time and the party—” the dread in your voice does something special again to him. There is another lurching that he still fails to anticipate. But Dracula does not assume that he is dying again a second time. “It starts soon and I’ve got nothing.”

“That is unfortunate,” he sounds at a loss. Perhaps now you will break your promise.  His heart sinks and the sensation is intense.

“I don’t know if I want to go, now,” you admit with a sheepish softness to your tone. “But I probably should, I can throw something together.”

“I understand,” it isn’t that he’s run out of words to say, but he knows when the fun’s ended.

“It’s been nice talking to you,” you tell him. He thinks you might just mean it.

“And I to you, my dear,” Dracula holds the phone to his ear, even as you say goodbye. Even as the sound of your voice and the slight static is interrupted by nothing.

He flips the infernal thing closed after a few moments of silence and sets it on the table. Dracula lifts his hand, debating summoning a minion to bring him a fresh glass of blood.

The buzzing from his phone is short and amplified by the hard wood underneath it.

—

The party is loud, painfully loud but you breeze through it easily. While the dark corners look appealing, you do have someone to greet. You see your friend through the crowd, Marnie’s wearing a red wig and you couldn’t miss her.

A few people turn to stare as you weave between bodies. The alcohol is flowing and the world is all dazzling colours. Distantly, you hear Monster Mash pouring from someone’s speakers.

Arms are around you as soon as your in range. Marnie’s always been friendly, even more-so when tipsy.

“I was fully expecting the text saying you weren’t coming,” she says with a laugh in her voice. You know what she means.

“I almost did,” you tell her. She holds you suddenly at arm’s length.

“Oh, my god, you look incredible,” she exclaims. Her head lolls, she looks you up and down with a beaming smile.

“So do you,” you reply, “you’re a perfect little mermaid.”

“The wig’s from Party City, you don’t have to lie to me,” but where the fuck did you get those contacts?

“My friend knows a guy,” you tell her, glancing over your shoulder.

Marnie’s eyes follow you over the sea of people dancing and enjoying the revelry. Tucked into a corner that you found more than appealing is a man. He’s tall, death-pale in a way that only makeup can explain. He stares off into the middle distance but suddenly and sharply turns to look directly back at you.

“Who’s he?” Marnie asks, “is he in one of our classes?”

“Not exactly, it’s a little more complicated than that,” you say, but you don’t turn back to look at her. You smile, showing fangs.

[rvnclwrites]

Romania 1999 Pt 1 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Sooo of course instead of coming up with creative ideas for my current requests, my brain decides to think of a new fic series idea instead. Probably going to be at least 5 parts. And it’s gonna be a slooow burn with plot :)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Cursed vaults and everything still happened.

Notes: All HPHM original characters except Andre and Felix went to Ilvermorny. All canon characters plus Andre and Felix attended Hogwarts. I will try my best to use neutral MC descriptions but some (such as backstory, animagus, and such) will be related to my MC for plot line purposes. I believe I have seen this plotline as a theory post on tumblr and if I am able to find it, I will credit the poster.

Word Count: ~3300

(Y/N) sucked in a breath as she passed through the towering iron gates and spun on her heel, taking in the rows of quaint cottages and breathtaking summer greenery. The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary was even more beautiful than the pictures she had seen.

After allowing herself a few moments of bewilderment, it didn't take long for (Y/N) to spot the sign beside the nearest cottage that read Felix Rosier, Head of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. Exhaling, she started toward the porch, determined not to let her nerves get the best of her.

“Come on in,” came a gruff, masculine voice on the other side of the door that (Y/N)'s knuckles wrapped against.

She pushed the door open, and a slender pale man with a head of dark hair came into view. He was seated at a round table, scribbling furiously on the roll of parchment in front of him before glancing up. “You must be (Y/N)," the man said, his brown eyes igniting with excitement as he stood up and made his way over to her. “Perfect timing. We're so excited you came to work with us.”

(Y/N) smiled, praying her hand wasn't sweaty as he shook it. “It's incredible to be here.”

“Glad to hear it. We've got your arrangements all finalized.” Felix grabbed one of the dozens of notes off of the table and skimmed it before setting it back down. “You'll be in the house across from your mentor, Charlie Weasley.”

“Sounds great,” (Y/N) said, elated to hear someone would be helping her for the first few weeks. She initially thought Felix might be the one to show her the ropes, but now she was relieved it was going to be someone else. Even though Felix was notably intelligent, he came off a little too intense for (Y/N)'s liking. "Has he worked here long?"

"Not the longest of the team, but he still somehow manages to be the best worker we've got. Would have taken my spot years ago if we didn't have a seniority policy.” Propping open the door with his boot, Felix pointed toward a cottage off in the distance with clusters of wildflowers and snapdragons surrounding the front porch. “He's over there. You can go to his place whenever you get settled.”

(Y/N) nodded and thanked Felix before heading to the house across from Charlie's. It wasn't necessarily the prettiest of the bunch, but that didn't stop the excited jitters from dancing in (Y/N)'s stomach. A rush of emotion flooded through her as she gave the door a push and stepped inside the home- her home. (Y/N) usually wasn't an emotional person, but something about this moment felt important. She was really here. She was really doing this.

Striding over to the made bed, (Y/N) set her bag on the floor and sat down on the mattress with a contented sigh. It felt right. She stayed there for a couple minutes, wanting to remember every detail about this day, before hurrying over to the cottage across the way. The only thing more exciting than unpacking or decorating her new place was diving into the work she would be doing.

(Y/N) paused once she reached the well kept front porch, noticing that her mentor's door was propped open and she didn't see any movement inside through the screen door. Still, (Y/N) decided to knock. “Hello?”

“Looking for Charlie, darlin’?” came a voice from behind. (Y/N) spun to see a tan man with a chin of greying stubble holding what must be a dragon egg. “He's up with Gertie, the Swedish Short-Snout.”

(Y/N) pursed her lips, wondering if it was okay to go looking for him. “Is it easy to get to from here? It's my first day and I'm supposed to meet up with him.”

“Oh, a newbie, eh?" The man outstretched his hand, mindfully keeping a tight grip on the egg with his other. “I'm Hank.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N).”

“Likewise.” He returned the grin and tipped the bill of his baseball cap towards her. “I'm headed up that way to give Scott this egg, so I can point you down the right path.”

“That would be great,” (Y/N) said, the nervous excitement returning at the thought of meeting the Swedish Short-Snout. She fell into step alongside Hank as he led her up the hilly dirt path. “How long have you worked here?”

“Oh boy, let's see-” Hank broke off, clearly counting the numbers in his head. “Seventeen- no, eighteen years.”

“Wow, that's impressive.”

“How old are you?”

“Just turned twenty-seven,” (Y/N) answered, feeling inadequate against the man's many years of experience in the field.

Hank nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, I was just a little younger than you when I started. A reckless twenty-five year old who finally found his match. Nothing like fire-breathing, man-eating creatures to knock you off your high horse.”

(Y/N) joined him in laughing. “Do you have any advice for me?”

“You look like you have a good head on your shoulders. I'm sure you'll do just fine.” Hank paused briefly before adding, “And no one could advise you better than Charlie. That kid is incredible. You know, he's the same age as you. Turning twenty-seven at the end of the year.”

(Y/N) snapped her head up towards Hank, eyes wide. “What? But Felix said he's the best here.”

Hank laughed again. “He is.”

The giddiness in her stomach twisted into a bitter bundle of nerves. “Oh, I just assumed that meant-”

“That he was an old bloke like me?”

(Y/N) bit back a smile. “Not what I meant...” Hank’s lightheartedness helped lessen her worry momentarily, but (Y/N) still felt intimidated. How could a twenty-six year old be better than someone who had been here for nearly twenty years? “How long has he been here for?”

“Eight years. Just celebrated his anniversary at a nearby pub a coupl'a weeks ago. He came right after he graduated Hogwarts, and I've never seen a more ambitious kid. Apparently he's always been obsessed with dragons. He's one of the lucky ones that knew their dream early on.”

(Y/N) nodded, not willing to admit it took her those eight years to get the courage to follow her dream.

“Well, if you continue down that path and turn left at the fork, you should find him,” Hank said, pointing down the narrow path to their left. “Just promise me you won't go right- that's where our Hungarian Horntail lives.”

“Left,” (Y/N) verified. “Got it. Thanks so much for the help.”

He tipped the bill of his cap again. “Anytime.”

(Y/N) trotted down the pathway, feeling her heart leap as she veered to the left and heard a roar in the distance.

“Easy- easy there, girl.”

Pushing past the tall brush ahead, a deserted, mountainous landing came into view with magnificent snow-covered peaks in the distance. Perched upon one of the various boulders ahead was a stunning icy blue dragon flapping its wings. She looked excited. That's when (Y/N) spotted someone's profile to the right- a man with an unmissable head of red hair and a similar shade of stubble running along his jawline. Thick brown gloves covered his hands, and his wand was at the ready. It took a moment for (Y/N) to notice the raw meat he was guiding through the air towards the beautiful beast. No wonder Gertie was excited.

(Y/N) waited until the dragon had successfully clamped her impressive jaw around her lunch before cautiously moving toward Charlie. “Excuse me,” she said, careful not to be too loud to alarm Gertie.

The man turned, slightly startled, and (Y/N)'s stomach lurched. To make this panic inducing life change even worse, her mentor was attractive. Not the conventional, clean cut attractiveness, but rather the rugged handsome, not-afraid-to-get-his-hands-dirty type.

“Can I help you?” he whispered, brushing red strands away from his heavily freckled face as he eyed (Y/N) quizzically.

“Are you Charlie?”

He nodded slowly before a switch seemingly flicked on inside his head. "Bloody hell. You’re (Y/N), aren’t you?" 

(Y/N) nodded in return, offering him a small smile. She didn’t know what else to say. She was usually full of words, especially around magical creatures, but suddenly her mind was completely blank. Luckily for her, Charlie seemed too preoccupied swearing under his breath and rubbing the back of his neck to notice.

"Sorry to have made you come up here. I just assumed you would spend the morning getting settled and meeting everybody."

A flush swept down the back of (Y/N)'s neck. Of course normal people would be more excited to meet their new coworkers first instead of the dragons. "I, uh, was a little too excited to wait."

The corner of Charlie’s lips quirked up briefly, reminding (Y/N) what Hank had said. Apparently he’s always been obsessed with dragons. Maybe he understood. "You didn’t find your way all by yourself, did you? I hope you didn’t get lost, Rosier would have my head."

"Oh, no, Hank showed me the way." 

Charlie let out a hollow laugh and shook his head, muttering something along the lines of, Should’ve known.

(Y/N) was going to ask what he meant by that, but Charlie had already moved on to peeling off his gloves and offering them to her. (Y/N) noticed that he hadn’t gone to shake her hand like Felix had.

"Would you want to feed the next one? Only have one more until later tonight." 

(Y/N) attempted to contain her excitement as she eyed the brown material. She noticed Charlie’s calloused, scared hands and smiled to herself. She had similarly worn hands and two equally noticeable scars on her left arm. Life of Magizoologist. "Do you even know my qualifications yet? What if I’ve never fed a dragon before?"

"Well, you waited until I fed Gertie to approach me. You kept your voice level and avoided eye contact with her. And I know Felix was overly excited to hire you, which is extremely uncharacteristic of him." He extended the gloves even closer. "So let’s see what you’ve got."

(Y/N) smiled and accepted the gloves. "Okay, where to then?"

After heaving the bag next to him onto his shoulder, Charlie lead (Y/N) back down the trail and turned right by a staggeringly tall pine tree. "She’s just over here."

The pair stopped a good fifty feet away from the impressive dragon ahead. "Wow, she’s beautiful."

"Do you know what she is?"

(Y/N) noted her brown scales and the black ridges lining her back. "A Norwegian Ridgeback."

Charlie’s eyebrows raised in surprise, causing a pleasant feeling to accumulate in the pit of (Y/N)’s stomach. A lot of people confused Norwegian Ridgebacks with Hungarian Horntails, and if (Y/N) wasn’t mistaken, she had just impressed Charlie. 

"What’s her name?" (Y/N) asked as she pulled the gloves on and withdrew her wand. 

"Norberta."

(Y/N) noticed Norberta not only ignored Charlie’s presence, but her body language was completely relaxed until her piercing gaze settled on (Y/N). "She likes you," (Y/N) commented as she pointed her wand toward the raw meat Charlie provided and used the levitation spell on it.

Charlie shrugged. "I’ve known her since she was a baby." 

"Still impressive. Especially since she’s female." (Y/N) felt Charlie’s gaze linger on her and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She forced her attention to stay focused on feeding Norberta though, determined to do a good job and not be distracted. (Y/N) moved the food toward the dragon the same way Charlie had with Gertie but froze as Norberta stiffened. (Y/N) averted eye contact, bowing her head and lowering the food away from the creature. After waiting there several minutes, (Y/N) caught sight of Norberta’s claws relaxing and her tail swaying once behind her, signaling to (Y/N) it was okay to continue. Much to (Y/N)’s relief, Norberta lunged forward toward the meal as it was raised into the air the second time and devoured it in mere minutes. (Y/N) lowered her wand, but her smile faltered as she turned back to see Charlie’s expression. "What?"

Charlie blinked a few times. "You just- I mean, she usually only let’s the three of us who rescued her feed her. She tried to scorch the other two that have tried."

Pride swelled inside (Y/N)’s stomach before a thought struck her. "Wait a minute- you mean to tell me you were going to have me feed her even though you assumed she would try to burn me alive?"

A playful grin spread across the redhead’s face, lighting up his eyes and sending (Y/N)’s heart pounding. Something inside told her those genuine smiles from him were rare. 

Instead of answering, Charlie nodded his head back toward the path. "Come on, everyone’s probably about to eat lunch."

She wanted to yell for him to get back here but knew better with Norberta still nearby. Once (Y/N) caught up to Charlie, she slowed her pace, catching sight of the dozen or so people conversing at the bottom of the hill.

"(Y/N)!" a familiar voiced bellowed, and she was relieved to find Hank waving her over. As (Y/N) moved toward him, however, heads swiveled in her direction and a group to her left stopped her.

"So you’re the newbie," a tall white woman said, stepping toward (Y/N) with a vibrant smile. She had shoulder length blonde curls and high cheekbones. Even without a trace of makeup, she was beautiful. "I’m Sydney."

"And I'm Dave," greeted the equally tall man beside her with ebony skin and striking doe brown eyes. "You're from America, right? Did you go to Ilvermorny?

(Y/N) nodded, which prompted the woman to Sydney's right to ask, "Did you like it there?"

"No way it's better than Hogwarts," Dave added.

"Come on guys, let the girl breathe," Sydney teased, causing the ball of nerves in (Y/N)'s chest to release a little. "Why don't you come sit with us?"

(Y/N) glanced toward Hank, who was now seated across from Charlie at a nearby picnic table. She was surprised to find the redhead staring at her until she caught his gaze and he returned his attention to the plate in front of him. "Thanks, but I was going to sit with Hank and Charlie."

(Y/N) wasn't sure if it was her own paranoia getting the best of her, but she could have sworn there was a shift of tension in the air.

Sydney studied (Y/N) closely. "No problem. We can catch up later."

(Y/N) nodded and excused herself, making her way over to Hank and Charlie before anyone else could stop her. "Mind if I sit?"

Hank beamed up at her and patted the bench beside him. "Of course not, darlin'. Take a seat."

(Y/N) obliged and grabbed a banana from the assortment of food on the table. "So, who’s the group that just ambushed me?"

Hank's cheerful demeanor turned into a scowl as his eyes settled on Sydney's table. "That's the research team. They don't do much field work but instead observe dragons and write about them," Hank explained, adding a dramatic emphasis to the word “observe” as if it equated to dragon dung. "They try to lure all the newbies to their side. Dave is okay, but that Sydney changed the second she was published."

(Y/N) frowned, a little disappointed to have her fairy-tale view of working at the Sanctuary tainted by reality. She was used to drama in the workplace, but it was always disheartening to find out situations weren't as picture perfect as they appeared. "What do they have against you guys?"

"Not so much against us- just against Charlie boy here." (Y/N) heard Hank's boot clank against Charlie's beneath the table. "They were pretty peeved they couldn't convince him to join their team because he's got a lot of pull with Rosier." Hank grinned and added, "And I think Sydney took it a little personally, if you know what I mean."

(Y/N)'s brows knitted together before she noticed the red tint highlighting Charlie's freckled cheeks as he continued eating. (Y/N) tried but failed to stop the smile tugging at her lips. "Oh."

Hank caught (Y/N) peering over at Sydney's surprisingly full table and raised an eyebrow at her. "If you're at all interested in being a researcher, now's your chance. She's probably not too thrilled with you either at the moment, but there's probably still time for damage control."

"No thanks," (Y/N) said, trying her best to sound polite. "I was actually just wondering how they would manage to convince anyone to give up field work."

To (Y/N)’s surprise, Charlie smiled at this. 

"Money," the redhead answered, his brown eyes flicking up to meet hers. It was the first thing he had said since she sat down and (Y/N) felt oddly satisfied. She wanted him to talk to her and wasn't quite sure why.

"Yeah, somehow they bring in the extra galleons while we do the dirty work and risk getting our limbs seared off," Hank huffed before tipping the pint of Butterbeer to his lips.

"Well, I hope you guys don't mind being stuck with me," (Y/N) said, piling food onto a plate, "because I'd never trade working with dragons for anything."

Hank grinned at her. "Then you’ll fit in with us just fine. How'd it go up there earlier?"

(Y/N) purposefully filled her mouth with food, hoping Charlie would say something. She didn't want to brag or be modest. She honestly didn't know how to answer.

Luckily, her hopes came true and Charlie said, "She fed Norberta."

Hank looked like he was about to choke on the chicken he was eating and quickly reached for his Butterbeer, coughing to clear his throat. "What?" he boomed, loud enough to cause (Y/N)'s face to turn pink. "Why on earth didn't you two start with that!" Hank stretched forward and slapped two full Butterbeers onto the table, one for Charlie and one for (Y/N), before lifting his own into the air. "You're one of us kid. Now I wouldn't let you leave for their group even if you wanted to."

(Y/N) cheeks hurt from how wide she was smiling and her chest flooded with warmth as she clinked her glass against Hank's and Charlie's. She wasn't sure why, but (Y/N) had a sudden overwhelming feeling that she was right where she belonged.

[borisbubbles]

08. France

Haaaaah, it’s great to enjoy the off-season, so now that the Academic year has started, I’m able to fully FOCUS on my bachelor thesis/teacher training internships..

...

...wait? I still... have to write? Eight, you say? *gulp* k FINE!!! (but I won’t force myself to do footnotes unless I need to. Sorry if you enjoyed those eek.

Anyway,

08. FRANCE Madame Monsieur - “Mercy” 13th place

Let us dive in, in medias res, for “Mercy” is nothing less than a fantastic song. Even if “Mercy” weren’t an original, fun, captivating song with a clever, mature take on a hot, politically, sensitive topic and was instead about breaking glass teapots with overheated camomile tea or the joys of yodel therapy, it still would’ve ranked high!!! Well okay, perhaps not *eight*, but you get the gist of it. 

Fortunately for all of us, “Mercy” really was way more than just a pretty sounding-melody. During the preshow, I labelled it a “harrowing humanitarian hymn” and that assessment still stands. Now let me get out of the way that I don’t REALLY care all that much for the topic at hand. War, Peace, Death, Loss of a Family Member, Political and Humanitarian Themes, etc, all fall under the moniker of “Charity Songs” and I generally do NOT like those type of  messages!! “Are you kidding me? This isn’t, like, wellfare, it’s not our fault that you, like, suck at life.” -- Courtney Yates -- me. 

The reason for my dislike of the “Charity Song” runs two-fold. One, the intentions: Often such songs are written specifically for the contest, with the idea of drawing in sympathy votes. Sanitizing (or trivializing) the problems at hand, and not raising awareness are merely collateral damage. In other words, they’re a fucking SCAM. Most Charity Ballads in this group are deliberately vague and rhetorical (remember “What if?” my sympathies if you do.) Second, the way the message is brought is also important: Even if you are well-intentioned you can’t be condescending (”Wars for Nothing”), aggressive (”Wars for Nothing”) or obnoxious (”Wars for Nothing”) (or heaven forbid, all three.) This is why I don’t like “Non Mi Avete Fatto Niente”, as you may remember. MetaMoro had good intentions, but I could do without the incoherent yelling, no fanks. 

“Mercy” passes both of these checks with flying colours. “Mercy” is a really brave entry.  It doesn’t shun confronting the issue with lyrical imagery. It’s not *that* noticable because the song is performed in French and the message hollered down our ear canals alongside an obnoxious PowerPoint overlay, but... translated lyrics such as “I am all the children that were taken by the sea” conjure up the image of dead toddlers washing up on desolate beaches and that’s some seriously real stuff to be addressing in a camp circus such as Eurovision, man.

Providing SOME levity to all of that heavy thought porn is the act, which I found simple but effective. Standing together in the the midst of smoke wearing a trouser-skirt(?), transposing into THIS

which is easily my favourite moment in the entire finale? Brought by sweet Goblin princess Emilie and her half-Elven paramour Jean-Karl, “Mercy” is bathed in maternal warmth. It’s elegant, stylish and graceful. It’s a huge pity Europe wasn’t feeling it, because I don’t think Europe will come up with such a clever entry in the next few years. 

So why do I rank them 8th and not higher? Well,... for me nothing has changed since November last year, when I first heard the song. There hasn’t been any evolution in sentiment and other entries I either already liked more or have grown on me. There was no French journey, you know? It would’ve been different had “Mercy” won in what would’ve been an EPIC and 100% deserved victory, but alas, people just weren’t feeling it all suppose. 🙄 Praying that they develop better taste before they mindlessly hand Kristian Kostov the trophy in eight months from now. 🙄

RANKING SO FAR:

08. France (Madame Monsieur - “Mercy”)

09. Hungary (AWS - “Viszlát nyár”)

10. Finland (Saara Aalto - “Monsters”)

11. Bulgaria (EQUINOX - “Bones”)

12. Denmark (Rasmussen - “Higher ground”)

13. Malta (Christabelle - “Taboo”)

14. Cyprus (Eleni Foureira - “Fuego”)

15. United Kingdom (SuRie - “Storm”)

16. Serbia (Balkanika - “Nova Deca”)

17. Portugal (Cláudia Pascoal - “O jardim”)

18. The Netherlands (Waylon - “Outlaw in ‘em”)

19. Ukraine (MÉLOVIN - “Under the ladder”)

20. Macedonia (Eye Cue - “Lost and Found”)

21. San Marino (Jessika ft. Jenifer Brening - “Who We Are”)

22. Sweden (Benjamin Ingrosso - “Dance You Off”)

23. Austria (Cesár Sampson - “Nobody but you”)

24. Latvia (Laura Rizzotto - “Funny girl”)

25. Azerbaijan (AISEL - “X my heart”)

26. Israel (Netta - “Toy”)

27. Norway (Alexander Rybak  - “That’s how you write a song”)

28. Montenegro (Vanja Radovanovic - “Inje”)

29. Armenia (Sevak Khanagyan - “Qami”)

30. Poland (Gromee ft. Lukas Meijer - “Light me up”)

31. Greece (Yianna Terzi - “Oniro mou”)

32. Georgia (Iriao - “For you”)

33. Belgium (Sennek - “A matter of time”)

34. Italy (Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro - “Non mi avete fatto niente”)

35. Romania (The Humans - “Goodbye”)

36. Ireland (Ryan O'Shaughnessy - “Together��)

37. Croatia (Franka - “Crazy”)

38. Belarus (ALEKSEEV - “Forever”)

39. Russia (Julia Samoylova - “I Won’t Break”)

40. Spain (Amaia & Alfred - “Tu canción”)

41. Iceland (Ari Ólafsson - “Our choice”)

42. Australia (Jessica Mauboy - “We got love”)

43. Czech Republic (Mikolas Josef - “Lie to me”)

FOOTNOTES

1) I suppose I can’t spare some time to discuss the one thing I couldn’t fit in the write-up: “Eva” and how well it could’ve done. Well, I personally don’t really care? Like, I loved “Eva”, just like how I love “Mercy” (actually, I loved “Eva” as much as I love “Mercy”? 🤭🤭🤭) and neither would’ve won anyway, so who the fuck cares. I do think “Eva” would’ve finished where Cesár would have (3rd) and no, NOT because Lisandro and Csár are both black guys, but because Lisandro defo would’ve won the jury vote, but still not by a wide enough margin to beat Eleni, let alone Netta once the televotes are added to the mix. Having said all that, picking “Eva” would’ve just been more of the same GENERIC SAFE SHITE that’s polluting this Eurovision Era and no fanks. So while I don’t like “Mercy” THAT much more, it holds my pref as the French entry because it was different and out there. We will have plenty of “Evas” in the next few contests. Will we ever have another “Mercy”, thought? I doubt it. 

2) However, let’s face it they should’ve just picked Emmy Liana (IDGAF THAT EUROPE WOULD’VE SPAT HER OUT BECAUSE SHE’S NOT WHITE/CHICKEN/CONFORMIST ENOUGH, SHE’S FREAKING OSSUM!!!!!).

[hetaliaweekinreview]

Week of 9/9/2018 - 9/15/2018 PruCan!

Total fics: 14

FFN: 1

AO3: 12

fanfiction.net:

Our Obnoxiously Calm Chem Teacher by goctyudicbdkvhb175749674

He's loud. He's annoying. He's obnoxious. He's somewhat egotistical. He's got the worst case of ADHD anyone has ever seen. But, most of all, he's their awesome chem teacher who always rambles on and on about his French-Canadian boyfriend. Human AU where Prussia is a chemistry teacher who may be a bit loud for everyone's tastes but also has a heart that's bigger than a mountain.

Rated: T - English - Humor/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 3 - Words: 12,560 - [Prussia, Canada] OC

archiveofourown.org: 13

Dancin’ in The Ruins by Fave101

The Reaper has been growing closer to the Guardians over the last few years. They've become almost like a family, but something they learn about the Canadian scares them. Sequel to ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper.’

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationship: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)

Characters: Matthew Williams, Canada (Hetalia), Gilbert Beilschmidt, Jack Frost, Prussia (Hetalia), Nicholas St. North, Toothiana (Guardians of Childhood), Sanderson Mansnoozie, E. Aster Bunnymund, Pitch Black (Guardians of Childhood)

Language: English

Blackout by Fave101

Canada is believed to have one of the lowest ghoul populations in the world, but that couldn't be further from the truth. The ghouls across the country know the truth and the nation behind it.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)

Characters: Prussia (Hetalia), Gilbert Beilschmidt, Alfred F Jones, Matthew Williams, America (Hetalia), Canada (Hetalia)

Language: English

Lovesick by Ludwiggle73

Fresh out of rehab, Arthur Kirkland is ready to get his life back to normal—or, at least, as normal as a rockstar’s life can be. He’s supposed to be sober now . . . but everyone knows love can be a drug. He might have a new lease on life, but the withdrawal of a lovesick heart could very well be the end of him.

[PortEng. Past FrUK. Frain. DenNor. PruCan.] (Nyo!France.)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M 

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationships: England/Portugal (Hetalia), England/Female France (Hetalia), Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), Female France/Spain (Hetalia)

Characters:England (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), Denmark (Hetalia), Norway (Hetalia), Canada (Hetalia), Spain (Hetalia), Portugal (Hetalia), Hungary (Hetalia), Female France (Hetalia), Japan (Hetalia), America (Hetalia), Seychelles (Hetalia)

Additional Tags:Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Punk England (Hetalia), Fame, Drug Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Friendship, Swearing, Drama & Romance, POV First Person, Guitars, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Destruction, Singing, Song Lyrics, Post-Break Up, Angst

Language: English

Demonic Romeo by Pastaaddict

A demon and an angel meet in battle and a forbidden love blossoms but how long before the wrong people find out and both are put in danger?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relation ships: America/England (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), South Italy/Spain (Hetalia), Lithuania/Poland (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), implied France (Hetalia)/Jeanne d'Arc | Joan of Arc

Characters:America (Hetalia), England (Hetalia), Canada (Hetalia), Russia (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), Spain (Hetalia), North Italy (Hetalia), South Italy (Hetalia), Germany (Hetalia), Ancients (Hetalia), Poland (Hetalia), Hungary (Hetalia), Estonia (Hetalia), Lithuania (Hetalia), Latvia (Hetalia), China (Hetalia), Norway (Hetalia), Denmark (Hetalia), Iceland (Hetalia)

Additional Tags: Devil and Angel brothers, Starcrossed Lovers, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, Character Death, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net under same name, more tags may be added

Language: English

How Much Wood Could Canada Chuck by RavenclawProngs

Canada has an axe to grind, but really, it's always sharp

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationship: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)

Characters: Prussia (Hetalia), Canada (Hetalia), Kumajirou (Hetalia)

Additional Tags: Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia)

Language: English

Series: ← Previous Work Part 7 of the Tumbling Through the World series Next Work →

Tripping Blind by RavenclawProngs

Road trip! But where are we going?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationship: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)

Characters: Canada (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia)

Additional Tags: Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia)

Language: English

Series: ← Previous Work Part 9 of the Tumbling Through the World series

Isolation by Fave101

Stolen at a young age, Canada has been through it all, human trafficking, drugs and prostitution. When he finally gets away he has no idea how to find his family again. Homeless and with an approaching cold winter a kind man takes him in and shows him how to make it in the world, but it's not exactly legal either.

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationship: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)

Characters: Matthew Williams, Canada (Hetalia), Gilbert Beilschmidt, Prussia (Hetalia), Francis Bonnefoy, France (Hetalia), Alfred F Jones, America (Hetalia), OC - Character

Additional Tags: Eventual PruCan, AU, Mercenaries

Language: English

Chasing the Moon by Anubis_2701

The efforts made by Matthias and his crew to rescue their friends have resulted in them being imprisoned. Trapped and unable to negotiate, some among them may have to strike hard bargains with their rebel captors in order to win their own freedom.

Lukas and Emilia have fought tooth and nail to get to the resistance, and fought even more to restore order within its ranks. But with their vital secret hanging in the hands of a group of criminals, their future looks more uncertain than ever.

Lovino and Feliciano have struggled to keep their identities concealed for years. With the secret of their birth out between the two, their bond is stronger than ever. But with the arrival of a talented mercenary on Rela seeking the great bounty on their heads, the two may be forced to abandon their place of sanctuary to evade capture.

As empires begin to fall and death spreads like a plague, only the brave bother to keep going.

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationships: Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), Lithuania/Poland (Hetalia), Bulgaria/Romania (Hetalia)

Characters: Norway (Hetalia), Denmark (Hetalia), China (Hetalia), England (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), South Italy (Hetalia), North Italy (Hetalia), Canada (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), Female Lithuania (Hetalia), Poland (Hetalia), Svalbard (Hetalia), Female Iceland (Hetalia), Switzerland (Hetalia), Kazakhstan (Hetalia), Hong Kong (Hetalia), Taiwan (Hetalia), Hungary (Hetalia), Spain (Hetalia), Finland (Hetalia), Romania (Hetalia), Bulgaria (Hetalia), Austria (Hetalia), Sweden (Hetalia), Ancients (Hetalia), Egypt (Hetalia), Seborga (Hetalia), Female Germany (Hetalia), Turkey (Hetalia), Peru (Hetalia), Belarus (Hetalia), Russia (Hetalia), Estonia (Hetalia), Original Characters, Background & Cameo Characters

Additional Tags: Space Opera, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Space Pirates, Bounty Hunters, Rebels, Sequel, LGBTQ+ characters, Explicit Language, Telekinesis, Elemental Magic, Mind Manipulation, Healing, Rape/Non-con Elements, Aged-Up Character(s), De-Aged Character(s), Guerrilla Warfare, Rescue Missions, Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Assassins & Hitmen, POV Multiple, Snow, Past Child Abuse, Terminal Illnesses, Secret Identity, Military Training, Strong Female Characters, Original Universe, Lore - Freeform, Buckle up motherfuckers because this has the s l o w e s t o f b u r n s, who ever thought i would write enough of this shit for a sequel, Not me that's for sure

Language: English

Series: ← Previous Work Part 2 of the Hunting the Stars series

Pranks at the World Meeting - or, how everyone pissed off Ludwig by RunningDeer and zhejiang_loves_cacti

It all started with Alfred and Matthew playing a simple joke at the world meeting... but where will it end?

Rated for Lovino's mouth, just to be safe.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationships: England/France (Hetalia), Prussia/Canada

Characters: Prussia (Hetalia), Canada (Hetalia), America (Hetalia), England (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), North Italy (Hetalia), South Italy (Hetalia), Germany (Hetalia), Spain (Hetalia), China (Hetalia), Russia (Hetalia), Japan (Hetalia), Gilbird (Hetalia)

Additional Tags: Pranks and Practical Jokes, america is immature, everyone is immature, romano swears a lot possible ameripan

Language: English

Little Bird by random_shit

Gilbert Beilschmidt is a psychiatrist, stressed and tired and struggling to help his anorexic best friend. Matthew Williams is a traumatized, schizophrenic man who's checked into the psychiatric facility his older brother Alfred works at. Matthew also happens to be Gilbert's newest client.Updates Mondays.

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationships: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), Austria/Prussia (Hetalia) [in the past], South Italy/Spain (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia), very briefly - Relationship, Austria/Switzerland (Hetalia)

Characters: Canada (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), Austria (Hetalia), South Italy (Hetalia), Spain (Hetalia), North Italy (Hetalia), Germany (Hetalia), Rome (Hetalia), Switzerland (Hetalia), England (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), Finland (Hetalia), America (Hetalia)

Additional Tags: this is a rewrite so bear with me, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Schizophrenia, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, mentions of anorexia, mentions of DID, Mental Disorders, Trigger Warnings, pls be careful my dudes

Language: English

Series: Part 1 of the What It Takes To Try Again series

Wallflower with Power by Moshianomo

Matthew is just a normal kid in high school. He doesn’t love it but getting kicked out? No way! He would do anything to stay! Anything! Even if that means... cross dressing... venturing out of comfort zones... and WAIT! He has to befriend the “delinquent” of the school?! Who knew high school was THIS stressful.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationships: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), America/Japan (Hetalia)

Characters: Canada (Hetalia), Female Canada (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), Austria (Hetalia), England (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), North Italy (Hetalia), Germany (Hetalia), Hungary (Hetalia), Spain (Hetalia), a lot more lmao

Additional Tags: Super hero and villain shit, i want them to be happy, prussia and Canada ayyyyy?, prucan, this honestly feels shitty but whatever eyy, Fluff, yeah - Freeform, did I mention Canada, yeah Canada, Matthew likes Fall Out Boy yeet

Language: English

Plain Old Day by that_one_waffle

For Gilbert Bielschmidt, today is supposed to be a plain old day.

Or is it?

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: Other

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Relationship: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)

Characters: Canada (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia), Gilbird (Hetalia)

Additional Tags: Fluff, references, just a thought i’ve Had for a while now, don’t mind me

Language: English

[inactive-pastelpink-dreams]

About the non-American nationality questions post 3 ✿ 4 ✿ 8 ✿ 9. ✿ 10. ✿13 ✿14 ✿25 ✿26 ✿28 ✿30 ε-(´∀｀; )hope this isn’t too much (I’m curious)

Thank you for the ask! And no, it is not too much at all, don’t worry. ^w^

3. does your country have access to sea?No, but we call Lake Balaton, our greatest lake the Hungarian Sea to compensate.

4. favourite dish specific for your country? I’m not sure, as most of our very Hungarian dishes actually originated from other countries. But I do like mákos guba (better known by it’s Polish name Makówki around the world) a lot. The version we eat here in Hungary is not made from it’s own dough though. We soak slices of dried kifli (a certain crescent shaped yeast roll - description taken from Wikipedia, as I have no idea how to explain it with my own words), and it is my favourite dessert.

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?Oh, it’s a popular joke here that foreigners think Bucharest is our capital and Budapest us the capital of Romania. If our capitals are indeed mixed up, Hungarians tend to get a bit offended, as Romanians and Hungarians aren’t usually on such great terms with each other to not mind being mixed up with each other.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?I really like visiting Croatia, would love to go there again, mainly becasue of the sea and the warm weather and the lovely landscape. I would love to visit Transylvania in Romania one day too. Because Dracula. Oh, and Austria can be nice too, they have an amusement park near the border we sometimes made a trip to when I was small. I want to go there again.

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? We are famous for our swearing, we are able to create very long swear sentences. But since the question asks for a swear word : “A teremburáját!” Honestly, it is not really that much of a swear word anymore, and it is really old fashioned. But it sounds funny, though I do not know what it means. Another funny one is “A manóba!”(into the imp/elf - if I wanted to translate it word by word) which I believe was created to replace the much more vulgar “A picsába!” (into the cunt)

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders? Disznóvágás (pig slaughter) is such tradition, thou even I, a Hungarian find it weird and distasteful - but to some extent I get how it came to existence, or why it is tradition. It is tradition in winter in the countryside to organize a big family get-together, drink a tremendous amount of alcohol, and slaughter a pig to eat. I find it kinda disturbing how little kids participate too (not in the drinking of course, or well, they don’t get that much alcohol as the adults). Also, for city-dwellers it has become a popular touristic attraction.

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?Not really. We used to have great animated movies (like Vuk/The Little Fox and Macskafogó/Cat City), but now the industry has collapsed, our current animated movies are terrible. So our our movies, though lately we are living a renaissance of Hungarian cinema. One of my favourite movies for example is a relatively recent Hungarian movie: Liza, the Fox-Fairy.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country? Yeah, I don’t really like the Hungarian mentality, lifestyle and attitude. Though I don’t know where I would rather have been born. Maybe Sweden? And I suppose I always will have the chance to move somewhere else in the future, and living in Hungary did give me some valuable experiences.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?I don’t think we get portrayed all that much. But our language is often used when the want some strange/exotic/unusual language, which I think is fun. The only portrayal of Hungarians I can recall is not American, but British: in Monty Python's Flying Circus, in the sketch “Dirty Hungarian Phrasebook”, a Hugnarian tourist is seen saying really strange things, often sexual in nature. It is later discovered, that he is using a phrasebooks that translates from Hungarian to English, only rather innocent sentences are translated into inappropriate ones. I find this happening in real life quite possible, actually. Many of us would fall for it.

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites? Mostly hills, not really mountains. We have two big rivers, Danube and Tisza, and many smaller ones. And we got three bigger lakes (Lake Balaton, Lake Velence and Lake Fertő), and a few smaller ones. I am not a big fan of most of our lakes other than “Szlötyi” which is an artificial lake near my home, and where we swim in the summer. It is a life saver in summer. For favourite river, I really like Tisza, as we used to go on canoe tours on it, lovely memories.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family?No, not really. Especially not on my father’s side, that family’s ancestry is Hungarian farmers. My mother’s side on the other hand is nobles, and thus there is some foreign blood in our veins.

[atundratoadstool]

A Brief Account of Why Vampires Are Romanian (or Rather A Not-At-All Brief Account of How They Actually Aren’t)

So, in the 1720s-30s, some villagers in Vojvodina (which is now a part of  Serbia but was then a part of the Hapsburg Empire’s Kingdom of Hungary) had what they perceived to be some vampire-related problems and some Austrian military doctors came by and documented their decisions to solve these vampire-related problems by digging up dead bodies and attempting to violently de-vampirize them via beheadings and stakings and other sundry forms of mutilation. Some of this documentation came to be published in newspapers and periodicals across the rest of Europe, and suddenly the rest of Europe was all like “Whoa! Vampires are a thing!” and they found said vampires terribly interesting and promptly wrote political satire about the parasitic upper classes metaphorically sucking the blood of their underlings. As one does.

Eventually, in 1746, a French priest named Augustin Calmet wrote a big treatise on demons and ghosts and all manner of other spooky stuff, in which he included a lengthy discussion of vampires. He called it Treatise on the Apparitions of Spirits and on Vampires or Revenants of Hungary, Moravia, et al., which you will probably observe as not containing any reference to Vojvodina or Serbia at all. Like pretty much everyone else writing about these events, Calmet just categorized the experiences of the Serbian villagers as being a thing that happened in Hungary because technically they did happen in what was Hungary at the time even if they didn’t involve any Hungarian folk beliefs.

And so for the next century and a half, vampires were Hungarian. While Lord Ruthven (”The Vampyre,” 1819) is something of a fluke, given that he’s just Lord Byron if he were an immortal hemophage, a very sizable chunk of the vampires that you actually see throughout the nineteenth century’s literary vampire tradition are debauched Hungarian nobles. You might not recognize names like Alinska (La Vampire ou la Vierge de Hongrie, 1825), Marfa Sergeyevna (“The Vampire,” 1841), Marian Gregoryi (La Vampire, 1875), or Count Vardalek ("The True Story of a Vampire,” 1894), but they are all Hungarian vampires, and they probably all irritated the actual Hungarians of the day who tried very hard to explain that -no- they didn’t actually have any vampire myths (apparently Arnold Ipolyi was cheesed off about this as early as 1854).

Now, while you might not have read any of those obscure vampire texts I rattled off, you probably do recognize names like “Carmilla” and “Dracula.” But wait, what’s that you say? Dracula!? Isn’t Dracula supposed to be Romanian? Isn’t he Vlad the Impaler, vovoide of Wallachia (AKA old school Romania)? Doesn’t he live in Transylvania, which is in Romania?

Well, here’s where things get interesting.1 First off, back in 1897, when Dracula was published, Transylvania was -you guessed it- in the Hungarian part of Austria-Hungary, and like Vojvodina, people just tended to round Transylvania up to being “some part of Hungary” even if the vast majority of people living there were Romanian. Romania existed, but at the time Dracula was published, it had only been an independent state for fifteen years and Transylvania most decidedly was not in it. Bram Stoker, who never went to Transylvania in the first place and did most of his research via really condescending/racist travelogues, constructed the fictional Transylvania within Dracula by copy-pasting in bits and pieces of books that were not only about Transylvania, but about Hungary and the area near the Carpathians in general, nabbing whatever he could find that sounded cool so long as it was nebulously in the region he was describing.

And one cool thing he found? From one book, titled An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, we know that he took notes about a historical Wallachian voivode whose name was given as “Dracula.” This book doesn’t, however, mention much else; it certainly doesn’t mention any of those completely metal stories about a guy impaling people or nailing turbans to emissaries’ heads; it doesn’t even use the words “Vlad” or “Impale” anywhere near this Dracula’s name; and the whole story of this Dracula (and his father, also a Dracula) takes up all of three pages. Don’t believe me? Go check. Right here. Through the miracle of GoogleBooks, you can experience the entirety of Bram Stoker’s known sources on Vlad III in the next minute or so.

So yeah... there’s not much there. It is seriously not outside the realm of possibility that Dracula is called “Dracula” because Bram thought it was a pretty cool name that he erroneously thought to mean “devil.” As for the tiny snippet of historical context that got shoved into the book (that part where the Count mentions somebody who “crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground" and had an “unworthy brother”) this definitely does refer to the itsy bitsy, super small blurb on Vlad III that’s in Wilkinson, but it’s not in any way clear that Dracula is actually meant to be identified with this personage. I could go into more as to why this is so murky, but it’s something that has already been hashed out in sort of awkwardly excruciating detail here by Hans de Roos.2 The short version is that there’s a historical “Dracula” mentioned in the text who clearly isn’t Vlad, who doesn’t seem to have a real world equivalent, and who makes an awful lot of sense to read as being the Count.

In any event, we have a bunch of stuff that points to the Count being yet another Hungarian or Hungarian-coded evil vampire nobleman, and some of this stuff isn’t all that subtle... like Dracula literally telling Jonathan Harker that he is a member of a Hungarian ethnic group. The Count also makes a point of mentioning his use of Hungarian linguistic conventions and, if you look in the novel’s original typescript, you can see that the woman with the stolen child was supposed to have referred to her persecutor as “Hungarian” rather than “monster” at one point in the drafting process. Even with all this rather blatant evidence that Stoker was working within the "Hungary=vampires” paradigm, however, Drac’s Hungarianess still isn’t 100% neat and tidy. It can’t be. Stoker’s culturally insensitive collage of whatever spiffy-sounding factoids he could find about an ethnically diverse region with incredibly complex, intertwining Romanian and Hungarian histories just does not result in a well wrought Hungarian character, and we’re left with a confused hodgepodge of Romanian and Hungarian elements. The thing is, though, that said hodgepodge just so happened to become the most famous vampire of all time.

So what happens post-Dracula? Once the stage play and film take off, people start to take elements introduced in Dracula, even ones that didn’t have any precursors in literature or folklore, and decide that these are 100% ironclad things that real vampires™ do. Suddenly vampires all lack reflections; they cringe at crosses; they need to be invited into your home; and they all suddenly live in Transylvania. Also, TWO WORLD WARS HAPPEN, and at the end of them, Transylvania is actually in Romania, and as Dracula increasingly becomes a topic that nerds and academics and academic nerds like to nerd out about, some people examine the sad little dribblings of history Stoker dropped in the text and get the impression that maybe Dracula is supposed to be Vlad III.3 This was a pretty understandable thing to do, given that most people in those days didn’t have access to all the neato primary sources relating to Dracula that I mentioned somewhere above in describing how dinky the Vlad III evidence actually is.4 It makes sense to seize onto tantalizing historical hints within the text and assume that they might be a part of something grander, and eventually Harry Ludham’s completely bibliography- and source-free biography of Stoker lent the claim some additional credence by giving it out as a completely source-free fact. 

What really got things going, however, was Raymond McNally and Radu Florescu’s 1972 In Search of Dracula, which really really really really tried to sell the Dracula is Vlad III angle and succeeded tremendously, all while describing the authors’ investigation into Vlad as it played out in their own visits to historical sites in Romania. The book, in addition to telling everyone very firmly and enthusiastically that Vlad III was totally Dracula, went to the trouble of explaining that its readers could and should totally go to Romania and see all sorts of rad Dracula things there, all while giving some cringey advice on how not to alert the locals as to the fact that they were weird vampire novel enthusiasts who wanted to gawk at historical sites’ relating to one of the country’s cultural heroes because some Irishman ostensibly wrote a book about him biting people. While I’ve come to regard as unnecessarily mean-spirited some of the later scholarship pointing out how crap McNally and Florescu’s scholarship was, their scholarship really hasn’t held up well, and by the time other scholars started noticing, the notion that Dracula=Vlad and Romania=vampires had become pretty firmly entrenched. By the late 90s, there were several books, movies, and even very legitimate and influential scholarly articles working from the premise that Stoker had had Vlad III in mind as the Count and wanted him to be a uniquely Romanian character, and owing to Bram’s strange, patchwork fiction of Transylvania, there were -in fact- a lot of Romanian elements within the text to support this idea. Vampires, which used to be Hungarian before Dracula, and who are even Hungarian in Dracula, eventually became Romanian because Dracula became such a landmark vampire text that people began to take Stoker’s weird blend of cultural elements as evidence of both Dracula’s and vampires’ Romanianess.

So even if all that has since been debunked on paper, this nevertheless sort of brings us to where we are now. Obviously, there's a lot of changes in the depiction, perception, and reception of vampires that have occurred in the past twenty years, but we're still at this weird place where most westerners generally think of vampires as belonging to a country that doesn't actually have a folkloric vampire tradition... and the reason that we think that is directly related to the fact that for the better part of two centuries most westerners thought that they belonged to another country that doesn't actually have a folkloric vampire tradition.5 It’s honestly all pretty zany, and while I sort of thought that I’d have a wise, profound, or otherwise satisfying end to this stupid long ramble about how weird vampires' shifting geographic location is, I don’t really... other than -as always- nobody should really be a tool about vampires. This is not only because one shouldn’t be a tool in general but because there’s a non-zero chance that whatever deep-held truths you hold regarding them have been wrong since before you were born, and it is not impossible that you will live to see the day when somebody totally insists that a supernatural entity you’ve never heard of just lives in your place now and your fave historical figure always was one.

1. Or where they get interesting if you haven’t heard me give this spiel before. It’s that time of year, kids. | 2. Hans is a really nice/chill guy even if I don’t agree with all of his analyses in that document. You might recognize him as the individual who recently brought us the majestic pinnacle of high weirdness that is the recent translation of Powers of Darkness. | 3. Interestingly enough, it might be that the first person to do much with this was Dracula’s first Turkish adapter, who re-imagined Dracula in 1928 as a story about a marauding occidental foreigner from the West coming to get the decent, upstanding citizens of Istanbul... but that’s another story. | 4. They also didn’t have GoogleBooks and thinking of that reality makes me very very sad. :( | 5. Romanian folklore has strigoi, which sometimes are dead and sometimes drink blood, but are really more akin to evil ghost-wizards than vampires from what I’ve heard. Hungarian folklore has the lidérc, which also goes blood-drinking sometimes, but is apparently sort of more like a succubus that is also a chicken... I think. I do know that pretty much every article I've read (Florescu excepted) and account I've heard from Romanians and Hungarians on the topic of what people typically conceive of as vampires has been roughly "No, we don't actually have those. Plz stop." I'm of neither Romanian, Hungarian, nor Slavic extraction, however, so I'm more than willing to be corrected.

[beedujourblog]

I had  to go on a week-long study trip in Romania in 2015.  It was part of the international exchange programs between my French university and a Romanian one. Romania is starting to invest more in developing its industrial and manufacturing industries as it opens itself up internationally. Romania has long been overlooked as a tourist destination. However, over the last 3 years, the country is becoming a popular travel destination as the country develops itself as an industry leader and brand.

My week in Bucharest was a busy one. We spent two days sightseeing around parts of Romania by bus which was great, as it was also my first time visiting Eastern Europe. We were also caught in a heatwave that July. It moved from France and practically followed us to Romania.

I tried to see as much of the city, but we were on a tight 5-day schedule. The Romanian school were also very gracious in offering us tours of their beautiful countryside in Transylvania and Brasov, two stunning historical towns in the mountains. You can read my post on our trip to Dracula’s Castle in the Romania section of the blog.

Brasov

Bucharest

History

Bucharest was established as the capital city in the 19th century and was the first home of the famous Prince Vladimir III (or Vlad the Impaler). In fact, his original castle lies in the capital.

Since the establishment of the city, it is has been through many changes. During communism, the city expanded and the government tried to implement a more modernised approach to it’s design. The 3 main eras of it’s development over the centuries is very present in the city as you see the architectural styles before communism, during communism and present day.

Bucharest the city

Bucharest is actually divided into two sections: The Old city and the New city. The old city holds all the classical charm with cobbled stoned streets which now has a burgeoning nightlife mixed with new business offices and buildings. This part of the city gives it that real old meets new atmosphere that makes it your typical European city.

Areas away from the Old city centre contain a lot of classical architecture but is also mixed with various other architectural designs from the late 1980s to even more contemporary designs. The areas are a mix of big houses, apartments and offices merged together. As a result, there wasn’t really any defining style or harmony in the various designs being so juxtaposed among one another.

For example, you’ll find a elaborate classical building opposite an unpainted government apartment buildings, which might be next to a traditional Eastern European style church and down the road you will find newly constructed skyscraper.

  Dining and drinking

Food in Romania was rather good. We dined at various restaurants in the evening and the Old City has a rather vibrant nightlife offering a variety of trendy bars, clubs and restaurants all in walking distance.

We were also invited to a more upscale bar/club on our final night by the school. This was …a unique experience,  it’s definitely a must for those up for fun!

Industry

One of the key points of my trip to Romania with my school was to learn more about Romania’s current manufacturing industries as it opens itself up to the free economy. Romania’s economy is starting to build itself up after the fall of communism. Romania is working hard to build itself as a new brand and reputation as an international country to invest and visit today.

We got to visit a car manufacturer or assembly plant, online business and a fashion apparel manufacturer in Bucharest. We got to see the development of current Romanian fashion brands and one  of its factories that creates the actual goods.

As their manufacturing and industry grows, Romania still experiences some setbacks such as electricity black outs or cuts which can affect a manufacturing plant or factory. These are issues that are still in the process of being improved and sorted by the government to ensure the growth of this new economy is steady.

The Palace of the Parliament

Our class also got to visit the New City where the famous Parliament House or Palace of Parliament is located. This Parliament House was built on an enormous scale and was the vision of the previous communist party that ruled Romania between the 1970s and 1990s. The vision for new parliament was set out by the Romanian Communist Party General Secretary, Nicolae Ceaușescu.  Planning started in 1978 but construction only began in 1984. The materials used are all from Romanian  origin and the style is a mix of neo-classical, Baroque and various other popular European architectural styles from between the 1500-1800. After the Romanian revolution in 1989, it was called the People’s House.

The idea of a large parliament house was to replicate the vision of North Korea’s Pyongyang from the 70s. Today, it houses over 1000 rooms of which only 400 are in actual use.

It is also the largest administrative building in the world and technically it’s still not complete. It was supposed to have been completed in 2 years since construction began in 1984, however political and economical instability made this impossible. Many of the labour used on this building was done through forced labour by soldiers which helped minimise costs.

This building is HUGE. Every room and hallway is elaborate and decorative down to every detail. It houses a theatre, numerous conference rooms and event halls. It also houses an anti-atomic bunker plus the concrete walls are so thick not even radiation can penetrate it.

The Palace Parliament does actually look like a Palace and I thought that perhaps it was  the home of a Romanian Royal Family who eventually left it to have it turned into a government building. This is usually the case with most previously sovereign-owned buildings in Western Europe, however the Palace Parliament was actually designed to look like this.

I struggled a bit to understand why they would build a Palace that looked old only to house a modern government for administrative use.

It’s said the the building is so large and heavy that it sinks 6mm every year.

In conclusion

It was a busy week, we were caught in an intense heatwave and the fatigue was overwhelming. We ended the trip off by having dinner at an amazing outdoor restaurant and resort area by the river. From my one week I can say Romanians are big on hospitality and were pleasant to engage with as tourists. A special thanks to our hosts who made a huge effort to make sure we had a good time.

Bucharest seems like a fun city for both locals and travellers. Romania is def worth putting on your travel bucket list.

Safe travels,

Bee

    A week in Bucharest #travel #traveblogger #bucharest #romania I had  to go on a week-long study trip in Romania in 2015.  It was part of the international exchange programs between my French university and a Romanian one.

[avoskorm]

- Our landlord told us he’s selling the house, so we and our neighbour will have to move by... some unspecified date.  He hasn’t told us when we should pack up and leave, and knowing him he could tell us we have to get out in an hour.  This is the cheapest place we can get, and even then the bills are pretty much made up.  We’ve seen the really poorly done photocopies.

- Mother has been sick of this country pretty much since we moved here, and is getting increasingly loud about her wanting to go back home.

- We moved here originally to get far away from our abusive neighbours back in Wales (which seems like setting a fire hose to a match stick, but whatever)... and also because dad’s up to his eyeballs in debt for things we no longer even have. Running away from debt is the absolute worst thing you can do, I know, but he was offered this opportunity through work and jumped at the chance, thinking mother agreed.  Which she did... because she didn’t think it’d actually happen.  He doesn’t know that last part.  Communication between my parents is ridiculously awful.

- Because of the debt, and mother’s constant whining, dad is actually considering suicide, because he sees no other option; it’ll mean mother can get his pension, and go back home debt free, because it’s all in his name.  In reality I don’t think that’s likely, but that’s neither here nor there.

- Dad thinks he has cancer, but hasn’t told anyone.  The only reason I know is because he was venting and I don’t think he meant to tell me.  I have no idea whether or not I should tell anyone.  He’s getting treatment for sinusitis (he has always had chronic sinus problems), but they’re putting him in for a CAT scan.  He said he’s going to refuse it, because cancer, and he doesn’t want to get treatment because he wants to die.

- Mother has also been considering suicide.  In fact, the only reason she hasn’t OD’d yet is because dad takes painkillers like sweets.  Neither of these things are particularly healthy.

- Frank is the only reason I have my job.  I worked for this factory before, but when I got “promoted” to a completely different job, in a different part of the factory, with no actual support or any idea what to do, I reacted... badly.  One breakdown later, I left, without so much as a goodbye on their part.

- I had a second job here, but I wasn’t actually told what the job was until I started: foreclosure.  The fact they didn’t tell me until afterwards probably should’ve set off alarm bells, but I was desperate after being unemployed for like six months.  That went badly after several disagreements with my boss, and the fact the money paid (cash in hand, and not the amount in the listing, even disregarding the fact I wasn’t ever given my food vouchers like I was supposed to) was just enough to cover the taxis there and back to collect it.  So it was literally a complete waste of time.

- No one at the factory I work at wanted me back, because, after the first breakdown, they have come to the conclusion I’m unstable.  So Frank is literally the reason I have the job, but I have so many restrictions on what I’m allowed to do, I’m not actually doing much of anything, and Frank and our other colleague has to pick up the slack.  I get my instructions through Frank, who gets them from our supervisor.  He can speak to me directly, but simply refuses to.

- Frank is getting increasingly frustrated with the bullshit she has to put up with there, and the fact a new guy was hired at the beginning of the week, who is literally earning more than Frank and I combined, was the last straw for her.  One more mishap, and she’s promised that she’s leaving.  If and when she does, they won’t have any more reason to keep me there (not that they have much, anyway).

- As an aside, we’re not actually supposed to know how much each other earns.  It’s in our contracts that we could be terminated for discussing our earnings. I would like to find out what the law is in Romania about that sort of thing, ‘cause I know in the UK and US, that is completely illegal (at least until Theresa May and Donald Trump decide to rail against those laws to keep the populace under control...)  Thus far I’ve not actually been able to find anything specific to Romania, but you can bet your ass I’m going to kick up a stink if I can find out.

- We’ve noticed that all the blokes in our part of the factory get paid at least double what the women do (as I’m currently semi-closeted, because over here anything else would be dangerous, that includes myself).  I’ll let you guess what I believe the reason is for that.

- To stave off boredom, and as a desperate attempt to get out of the country, mother has decided she’s going to open a shop.  She’s been trying to do that literally since we moved here.  First it was cupcakes, then it was Welsh food, then it was slab cakes and coffee, now it’s a chip shop. With the growing anti-Brit sentiment here (it was a small problem even before Brexit, and now with that debacle going on, it’s come out of its shell somewhat), I don’t think that’s going to happen.  And I almost wish the Brexit would hurry up, so at least then we’ll have more of an idea what the fuck is going to happen to expats.  While the rich and powerful have their talks in Brussels, people are left uncertain and scared.

- Mother didn’t want Frank and I to come with her and dad to Romania.  She’s said before that they should be on their own now, having fun, not having us living with them.

Mother: By this time, kids should be out getting married and moving out, but no, I’ve got two gay twits!

- Now that she’s stuck with us, she’s making every effort to get rid of us.  But she’s being really inconsistent about it; sometimes she’ll complain that we’re still here -- sometimes even to the point of being really abusive and guilt-trippy about it -- and sometimes she’ll say she’ll help where she can, and she’ll miss us, et cetera et cetera.  The many faces of mother.

- It was arbitrarily decided that I should move out at the end of June.  I have no idea how I’m going to manage that.  Chuck has agreed to let me stay with her and her boyfriend (though he isn’t happy about it), but she’s in rented accommodation and that could be a problem.

There’s probably more but that’s about what I’ve got from the top of my head at the moment.  Also this is... kind of long.