#visit serbia

[profesors]

◾Zlatar lake, Western Serbia 🇷🇸

[travelew]

[diathadevil]

In my latest quest to introduce Princess Tutu to the local anime café I like to visit, I have spent about 2 or 3 hours working on this piece and pinning it to their art board. 👀

[kirmizibasliklierkek]

Belgrade 🌹

[milingmachine]

platform shoes from the 70s, Museum of Applied Arts, Serbia

[bestchoicetours]

Check out the best places to visit in serbia | Get serbia tour package at best price | Serbia holiday package

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[sauolasa]

Visite reciproche fra Serbia e Kosovo per la pacificazione

Nonostante la tensione tra Serbia e Kosovo sia ancora alta per la guerra delle targhe, Belgrado e Pristina si scambiano visite nelle rispettive aree controverse

[profesors]

◾Meadow plants from Сува Планина(lat. Suva Planina/eng. Dry mountain), Eastern Serbia 🇷🇸

[narkonianews]

#Visiting #beautiful #places in #Serbia it's a #lake near the #city #Sjenica called #SjenickoJezero #nature #vidikovac #molitva #naturepics #withsamsung #samsungpic #samsungmobile #samsungphotography #priroda #prirodnelepote #rezervatuvac with @selektor___ (at SJENICA.com) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfhoCFDrjkI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[diathadevil]

Yeah no I had to make a doodle of our sleepover reaction on Saturday.

Anyway I love this unhinged gremlin man.

[globalcourant]

Russia’s Top Diplomat Scraps Serbia Visit After Neighbors Close Airspace

Russia’s Top Diplomat Scraps Serbia Visit After Neighbors Close Airspace

Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov’s visit to Serbia has been scrapped after neighboring countries closed their airspace, his spokeswoman confirmed late Sunday. Serbian media reported earlier that Bulgaria, Montenegro and North Macedonia had not granted clearance to Lavrov’s flight over their territories. “Just an hour ago the countries surrounding Serbia closed the natural air channel for…

[octuscle]

I like to be a fighter from Albania, Serbia or another country like these: good looking, strong and proud and producing at least 12 sons as little fighters too. Dream or reality? you choose, chronivac

Strange wish for a 45-year-old administrative employee at Swiss Post. This is not exactly the place for fighters…

When you finish work, your body feels exhausted. Not like after a physically strenuous day… More like after hard work. Or after a visit to the gym. Not that you've ever been to a gym… Or ever worked hard physically… It's a strange feeling. And it doesn't go away when you enjoy the end of the day with a beer in front of the TV as usual. Actually, you should have been watching a thriller right now. But you're watching the Serbian soccer league. One hand on the beer bottle. One always on your cock and your balls…

Something is different the next morning… You have a lot more beard than usual. Looks good. Why do you always go to the office clean-shaven? You trim the beard a little. Feels very normal. Where's your deodorant? Never mind, I'll have to go without it today… You grab your briefcase, pack your breakfast sandwich and set off for work on your bike. You sit down at your desk. You start working on files. You have trouble sitting still. Shit, you need to move! During your lunch break, you go to the Balkan grill. And you don't realize that you're talking in Serbian to the other men who are taking their break standing up. After your lunch break, you make your rounds through the building. Your job at the in-house post office is not particularly demanding. But you can't imagine working at a desk. You need to get moving. That's why you can't wait to go to the gym after work. Get your muscles burning first. And then train your skills as a street fighter in the ring.

It's a long streetcar ride to the council housing estate on the outskirts of the city. It's one of the first warm evenings. A few of your neighbors are sitting with a beer at the playground in front of one of the run-down apartment blocks. You join them. You don't feel like going back to the small apartment you share with your siblings.

You share your room with two of your brothers. They both work on the assembly line and are on the late shift this week. You try not to wake anyone when you get up at 4:30 am. The garbage collection job is hard work, but it pays well. You can save a lot of money so that you can soon afford your own little house in Belgrade. Zurich is a good city to earn money. But not to live here.

You are a man's household. You can see that. Your bathroom is pretty filthy. Well, you don't really hit the toilet bowl yourself when you piss. Apart from that, just a bit of washing up. What's the point of more? You'll start sweating faster than you'd like.

Most of the guys who work with you are from the Balkans. Many from Croatia and Bosnia. Their parents often fled from your parents during the civil war. But you don't give a damn. The Balkans are the Balkans. In a foreign country with the snooty Swiss, that welds you together. You are a close-knit community. A community of real men. Not wimps like the locals. You are brothers. You have more brothers than the six men you share the apartment with. And you all meet up at the gym in the evenings. The only place where you spend a few of your hard-earned Swiss francs. The rest is saved for a better future.

There is no better place than the gym. Hard training, hard fights, hard sex. Yes, sometimes you also have to bang a woman. So as not to get out of practice. And Swiss whores are easy to come by. You're all real guys who look and smell like men. The whores don't find anything like that among their fellow countrymen. But it's even better if one of your compatriots or an inferior Christian from the Balkans loses to you in a boxing match. The loser gets fucked. And you fuck a lot!

[foreverinthepagesofhistory]

Romanov Rare Footage Analysis:

This footage was taken while the Romanov family was visiting Romania in 1914. In the foreground we see Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna bouncing up and down in a silly way. One might wonder why she is doing this. To find out we have to analyze this piece of rare footage.

Anastasia seems to be talking to someone in a white dress and a hat on. That person is who i believe to be Princess Marie “Mignon” of Romania (later Queen of Serbia). In the background of this footage we also see Queen Elisabeth of Romania (far right with baby Prince Mircea of Romania being held by someone), Tsar Nicholas II, Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, and Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna (talking with people), and Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna who we see towards the end of the clip holding what looks like a Brownie Box Camera which the Romanov family used to take pictures.

Now what are Anastasia and Mignon doing? My belief is that Mignon went to greet Anastasia by naturally curtsying (which was the correct protocol) and Anastasia also did the same thing at the same time. I think Anastasia was doing several small curtsies afterward to kind of make a joke out of the moment (hence the giddy bouncing we see in the footage). OTMAA always felt embarrassed or shocked when close members of their family, or anyone at all, treated them with their normal official rules that the protocol demanded (aka curtsying or using official titles). Anastasia probably wanted to break the ice in that moment or make a funny joke of the curtsying at the same time thing. Also we can see the two girls having a good laugh so that could also be why Anastasia is bouncing so much. In the end of the footage we see Tatiana come up to the two girls with her camera ready and it looks like she is going to take a picture of them. The following photo could be the one she took but I’m not sure that it is.

Here are some other photos from the day that this footage was taken:

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Can you forgive me?

John feels nauseous when Sherlock gets his will. They’re allowed to open the grave to prove the great detective’s theory. Sherlock wants John to come, though he really should’ve known better, according to John. It’s their second crime scene together since Sherlock came back from his faked death, and things are strained between them. Their co-habitation is tense and awkward, which makes John itchy and half-mad with anger and sorrow equally measured.

John’s told everyone that he went to visit Sherlock’s grave twice a month, but the truth is that he’s only been there once. He couldn’t bear to see the black gravestone with Sherlock’s name on it. It doesn’t help much that the grave that’s about to be opened, is only a few metres away from Sherlock’s fake grave. John hasn’t dared to look in the direction out of fear that he’ll do something terribly stupid, like falling apart in front of half of the Yard.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock murmurs beside him, having taken a break from pestering the men with the shovels.

“If you have to ask, the answer should be obvious,” John mutters under his breath.

His hands are balled into fists in his jacket pockets, his body stiff and alert. Sherlock draws a breath and is about to speak, when Lestrade calls him over. The grave is open.

“Empty, like you said,” Lestrade tells Sherlock. “How on earth did you know?”

Sherlock speaks rapidly, leading the yarders in the direction of the man who’s faked his death, and Lestrade takes his leave.

“Aren’t we going with them?” John asks hoarsely when Sherlock stands beside him again, gazing over at where his gravestone once was.

“No, they don’t need us anymore today. I’m taking you home, and then we’ll talk, and I’ll tell you why…”

Sherlock’s voice breaks and John looks shocked at him.

“Alright?” John asks and places a hand on Sherlock’s back.

Sherlock’s body shakes and John acts on instinct, forgetting all about his anger. He pulls Sherlock in for a tight embrace, relishing the sudden proximity of this madman.

“Can you forgive me, John?” Sherlock whispers with a trembling voice.

“I don’t know,” John says honestly. “But, by the state of you now, I guess it was much more to your absence than a crazy and exhilarating adventure. Tell me.”

John leads them to a secluded bench close to where John stood and begged a dead man not to be dead, two years ago. When John had told Sherlock about it, his reply had been – “I know. I heard you.”

His voice had been soft, even affectionate, but at the time, it’d just irked John. He wanted to scream and shake Sherlock and ask him why he hadn’t told John. Why he wasn’t allowed to come with him. Why he’d let him grieve like a widower. He hadn’t but it had taken all his willpower to act calm and just nod, pretending everything was business as usual. Which it wasn’t.

It should feel strange to hold Sherlock like this. Soothing him, stroking his back, whispering “shh”, and “I’ve got you”, and “I’m so glad you’re back”, and “I’ve missed you.” But the truth is, it feels utterly natural, a thing John’s longed to do for ages. Even before the Fall.

Sherlock’s head rests comfortably on John’s right shoulder, and his breathing eases, grows steadier. Time to confess.

When Sherlock’s finished telling John about the snipers, Moriarty’s unexpected suicide, his quest to hunt down and destroy the dead man’s network, ending it all by telling John about his last days away, in Serbia, captured and tortured; it’s John’s turn to break down. He weeps in Sherlock’s arms, hiding his face in the crook of Sherlock’s neck, letting Sherlock stroke his hair, rocking him, whispering “I had no other choice”, and “I would’ve taken you with me if I could”, and “you were always on my mind”, and “I missed you every second I was away from you.”

When they walk past the empty grave, John shudders. He turns around to locate Sherlock’s gravestone, but it’s no longer there. 

“Mycroft had it removed last week,” Sherlock says. That’s why I needed you to come along today, so that you could see it with your own eyes.”

John nods and turns to face Sherlock. He grips the lapels of Sherlock’s coat, pulls him closer, looking him square in the eyes.

“I forgive you,” John says softly and leans in to kiss Sherlock’s lips.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @phoenix27884 @a-victorian-girl @safedistancefrombeingsmart @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely @helloliriels @gregorovitchworld

[fr-ogii]

falling for you

count vronsky

x fem!reader; poc friendly

masterlist

request: "romantic hc when he meets his now wife after Anna's death and how he fell for her 💎✨" @hilalcoven

-> the count never thought he could fall for anyone ever again after the death of his lover, anna. he didn't even know how he would be able to live. he couldn't raise annie, their kid. despite barely having any distinguishing features yet, the thought that she would turn into someone that resembled anna was too much to bear. he felt awful that his daughter had to lose both her parents in such quick succession, but he could not force himself to raise her.

-> he had sworn off love entirely, convinced it would bring nothing but misfortune to him and any future lover of his.

-> but he changed his tune when he met you.

it was a cold september night in st. petersburg. it had been a couple years since the fateful day anna lost her life. the count had returned to the city from serbia - his time fighting against the ottoman empire was up.

he had expected the pain of his loss to have reduced itself after the years both away from anna and away from the city he became acquainted with her in. unfortunately for alexei, the pain came back as soon as he saw the skyline of st petersburg emerging from the horizon.

to escape this, vronsky visited a tavern as soon as he arrived in the all-too familiar city.

the warmth of the bustling building rushed to meet him as soon as the count opened the well worn door. the stench of cheap alcohol enveloped him as soon as he stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. his eyes landed on the bar that was situated a bit further back into the establishment and was occupied by two men who were clearly foreigners to this area and were speaking quickly in a tongue alexei could not understand. as was the unspoken rule, alexei sat two stools over and waited for the worker behind the bar to come over.

count vronsky had become impossibly quiet in the time away from anna. he only spoke when addressed. he avoided confrontation. it was as if the death of the mother of his child had left him mute.

an uncountable amount of minutes passed before a noise brought alexei out of his stupor. he had long since received his meal - a roasted meat he already forgot the name of. the pale ale in his mug had been nursed far too many times and was nearly gone.

his head snapped up when he heard that noise again. it was the trotting of a horse and the spinning wheels of the carriage it was pulling. there was something so recognizable about it. before alexei could be sucked back into his reminiscing tendencies, he turned around as the wooden door opened.

and there you were.

he wouldn't exactly call it "love at first sight", but he was certainly intrigued. count vronsky looked around the bar and noticed a couple other men that let their eyes flicker towards you periodically. aleksey stood slowly, stretching out the aches and pains that had grown in his joints in the many minutes he had been sitting. he would not let another man reach you before he could. and so, he began to walk over to you.

[sprout-fics]

The First Time

(König x F! Reader)

(Little Mouse Masterlist)

The first time you see König after your capture, it's in Serbia.

Or least you think it's him. It's hard to tell in the darkness as the 141 stalks through the shadows of the compound. Quiet, deadly, efficient. The only traces you leave are the flecks of red on the peeling painted walls and the short, cut off groans of dying men stuffed into the elusive corners near their posts. It's horrifc, bloody business, the kind you take no pleasure in but know will keep you, your team mates safe.

You're pressed up against a corner. The dingy glow of an overhead light flickers down the hallway, the dull, electric buzz like white noise against your own racing thoughts. You're on point, gun drawn and hugged tightly to your chest. There's not a noise between you and the other four men, all darting eyes and quiet, quick hand signals. When you glance to Gaz to make sure he's at your six, you can still see the butterfly stitch above his left brow- a parting gift from the man who held you captive.

It had taken him a week to get out of the hospital, days after you had completed your own evaluation and debrief of your capture and rescue. Miraculously, Gaz's wounds from the grenade blast were surprisingly superficial. No broken bones, a few minor burns, but one nasty concussion that had left him staring up at the ceiling for days.

"I saw him." He croaked, when you went to visit him, glassy brown eyes turned to you, full of guilt. "I saw him carry you off. I- I couldn't do anything."

"I'm sorry."

You had held his gaze, had gently rested a hand on his in a gesture of reassurance. Yet you couldn't contain your own guilt- lamenting the fact that, in all things, Gaz had suffered so much more than you. You couldn't bear to tell him, couldn't share the fact that the man he'd seen take you, the one now designated as an enemy, that König, had been almost gentle with you.

Now, Gaz's eyes flash at you with a nod, and behind him, in the dimness you can see Price's outline- his eyes sliding over to you, waiting, watchful.

You breath, tilt just past the wall to take a peek down the hallway that leads to the data extraction point. It's dim. The cover of night leaves little light left in the seemingly abandoned building, now littered with bodies. It's only a matter of time before you're all discovered. All the more reason to make this fast, quiet.

Footsteps.

You feel Gaz at your back tense, finger on the trigger of his weapon. Your own heartrate spikes inside your veins, the white hot pulse of adrenaline flashing through you. Yet your eyes never leave the hallway, and when you look there's a shape, a figure that blends in with the dimness, a wavering silhouette you can barely make out.

Massive. A monster.

There's a hood covering his face.

Like an executioner.

You freeze, go absolutely rigid where you stand, and that pulse of adrenaline is down tampered down by the icy wash of fear, of realization. You can feel the blood drain from your face, the steady rise of your heartbeat sharpen into something instinctive, fatalistic. For a moment the mission before you, the men at your back seem to fade, and in their places is only him, the sound of his taunting, ominous farewell.

"For now." König echoes, and you see his eyes under the lantern that swings wildly back and forth, dancing shadows across his hood. A spirit, a poltergeist.

It's Gaz nudging you, seeing the flare of fear in your eyes spark to life, that startles you out of your reverie.

"What is it?" He hisses, voice barely audible. You have to strain to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. Yet when you try to answer you can only shake your head, confused, shocked by what you've seen.

"Rookie."

Your eyes find Price, and there's a sternness, a guiding, steadying balance there that has the tremble in your hands stilling, brings you back down the earth once more.

"What did you see?"

You swallow, but in your throat you can still taste the dust that hovers in the air after the grenade explosion, the dampness of the cell where he'd pressed you into the wall, the one where his hands had-

"It's him." You gasp at last, voice tight, cracking in the silence. "It's König."

You see the way Gaz's eyes brighten, lighting up like a firework against a night sky- sudden, brilliant, full of sparks. They contort for a moment in a rare instance of fury for the sergeant, and before he can move it's the captain's hand that settles on his shoulder, firm, anchoring.

"Are you sure?" Is all he asks of you. Nothing to indicate his concern at your reaction, his frustration, his concern about the massive soldier who could be right down the fucking hallway-

You nod, but the words on your lips waver, suddenly uncertain.

"I-I think so. He- König, he was wearing a hood. Maybe I-"

A single finger to Price's lips, warning you of the sound of your own voice. It's enough to make you suck in a breath, hold it hovering in your chest.

"Gaz." He instructs quietly, voice rumbling, grating with the sound of cigar smoke. "On our six. I'm taking point."

Then, to you, Price's eyes narrow, focus onto the wash of fright, of confusion across your expression.

"Eyes on me, Rookie. Stay with me."

You can only nod, try vainly to erase the sound König's voice from your ears, desperately ignoring the sheer presence of him that weighs heavy in your mind.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Maus."

Price passes you, and you shudder once, closing your eyes, forcing the air to settle in your chest. When the captain's eyes flash to you, you nod, follow him around the corner.

There's no one there.

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