#whats my role in the ministry event

[emeritus-fuckers]

hi, i'd like to participate in the ministry roles event!

1. i feel like i'd be a sibling, i like to be chaotic at times, but i also need down time and lots of personal space.

2. i think either copia or sister imperator. working for copia would allow for a good autism to autism connection, and i feel like seestor would give strict but precise instructions and stick to routines, which i tend to prefer.

3. i'm an introvert. i always need some alone time and a good nap after being around others for too long.

4. i like organizing stuff. it's probably the only chore i take seriously. i like it when everything's in its right place.

5. i don't mind traveling, but not for too long. spending too much time away can be pretty draining, even moreso if i have nowhere to isolate myself and have some alone time.

6. the only place in my room that's not a mess is my bookcase. also i love cats.

This post is part of the 1250 (I think?) followers Role in ministry event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your role in the ministry is… PA to sister Imperator

You will receive precise and strict instructions from her, but she will always thank you for your work. She will definitely stick to a routine. She needs it as much as you do.

She is getting on in age now so even though she still works very hard she has cut her working hours slightly so you get a longer evening than most.

She just knows if you have been around people too long, she will send you back to your rooms for a nap. She will look after you even if she can be a little protective and stern about it sometimes.

You only travel for a short amount of time with her. Mainly to check in with the tour. With the amont of work she has back at the ministry its never for too long.

She also ensures you have your own room as she would expect the same.

She values your organisational skills and that you don't mind her strict instructions. Some people do and she isn't always the most patient with them.

However with you being a very valued employee she has plenty of patience for you.

She often buys you cat themed gifts or books as gifts.

Despite her strict and business like front she is a very good boss and makes sure you are happy in your role.

In the morning she has to have coffee and as she passes your desk on the way to her office, holding the cup like it's the only thing keeping her alive, she will place another cup down next to you filled with your favrouite drink in the morning.

~

Written by Nyx

[1-800fandomqueen]

And I Will Live Forever

Vladislaus Dragulia x fem!reader

Part One

WC : 16.2K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Mentions of violence, canon-typical, this fic follows the chronological events of Van Helsing (2004). Everybody lives AU! because I am first and foremost fruity, and want to slum it with Dracula and his wives.

If there are any more warnings to be added let me know!

Story Notes :

For reader's bride dress, I imagine the "Melora White Maxi Dress And Collar" but with a very light blue gradient.

All sentences in this formatting are flashbacks from part one.

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

‘He was truly my dearest friend, albeit a little strange, I owed everything to him.’

You wait on the steps of the Monastery, seeing the horse approach from across the courtyard, your dearest friend, Gabriel - The Great Van Helsing - was returning from France today. He had been sent on a mission to capture and bring back Dr. Jekyll, alive. But word sent the day before his return showed that he would be returning empty handed. You walk down the stairs to greet him as he slows the horse and dismounts, “Gabriel!” arms tossed around his stiff body squeezing until he moves to return the sentiment. After you deem the hug long enough you let go, quirking an eyebrow at him, a slight frown overtakes your features, “You know how much trouble you’re in right?” You’re immediately met with a sigh and an eyeroll, Gabriel beginning to walk away.

“I don’t understand how you managed to mess this up, the Cardinal is extremely angry.” furiously pacing yourself to keep up with his long strides, the brim of his hat pulled low to hide any sort of expression upon his face. “Van Helsing are you even listening to me? The Cardinal is going to throw a-”

''I don’t give a damn what Jinette thinks, I got the job done didn’t I?” his tone unwavering and final, holding the door to the monastery open for you, following after. You decide not to answer as you walk through the glittering hall, making your way down to the confessional, standing in front of it as he enters. 

You waited outside the door, the conversation between Gabriel and Cardinal Jinette fading in and out with the fluctuation of their volume, the Cardinal remaining the loudest. You hated the way that Jinette spoke to him sometimes, Gabriel never failed to provide results, and had done everything in his power to fulfil every deed given to him by the church.  He was good at what he did, that was undeniable, but he was truly a good man at heart. 

He was the only reason you were allowed to stay within Vatican City, having shown up on the Ministry doorsteps only a few years after he did, you however were significantly younger when you did arrive. You’d been abandoned, living in the streets, when a rowdy group of men chased you all the way to the doors of the church. He had immediately come to your aid and ever since then he had somewhat taken on the role of the older sibling you never had, convincing his superiors to allow you to stay within the ancient building. He always had this air of guilt surrounding him whenever interacting with you, claiming that you reminded him of someone he once knew, but never explaining further than that. 

He taught you how to fight, how to defend yourself if the situation ever arose, he made you carry a small vial of holy water and a collapsible stake on your person at all times, telling you that you never know when you may need it. He was your only companion besides a friar named Carl, who was somewhat closer to your age, a madman when it came to inventing. 

Hearing the scrape of the sconce as the Cardinal opens the secret door, you slide into the booth next to Gabriel right before the metal gate slams into place, quietly taking your spot behind your friend as you begin the descent down into the order. You listen as the Cardinal gives the same spiel about being the last defence against evil, zoning out as you watch the monks move about the place. You snap back into focus at the sound of the projector whirring alive, Jinette giving Gabriel his newest assignment. “We need you to go to the east, to the far side of Romania. An accursed land, terrorised by all sorts of nightmarish creatures.” You watch Van Helsing's face go slightly pale as the image changes, an even more grim look taking over the one that usually resides upon his features, “Lorded over by a certain Count Dracula.” 

You slightly zone out once more as you study the painting, you can hear Gabriel speaking but are unaware of what it is he’s saying. You can’t help but feel a strange mixture of happiness and sadness take over your body as you look upon the man - The Count - in the image, you could swear to all that was holy that he looked familiar. Like you’d met him before. 

You’ve decided by what little of him you could see, that he was still undoubtedly handsome. Slightly taller than you, possibly 6-foot, dark hair, and shockingly blue eyes. 

You don’t notice the looks Gabriel throws your way, the realisation hitting him that you're lost at the sight of the photo. 

When the Cardinal changes the image projected, you rejoin the conversation, looking up to lock eyes with your friend, giving him a wary smile as you fight off the sudden emotional pit forming in your stomach. Listening as Jinette lists off members of this royal family, watching as Gabriel becomes starstruck at the sight of Princess Anna, giving him a smirk and a hard elbow to the ribs, him responding with a slight stomp onto your foot. 

You stop listening again when the insignia of his ring is mentioned, the pit returning to your stomach as you walk away to find Carl. You find the aforementioned man yelling at someone in a pedalling machine, gasping slightly as the person on said machine is electrocuted. “Carl what are you doing?” you’re met with a few mumbles of “Almost had it,” and “Maybe next time,” as Carl shuffles towards you, giving you a small pat on the arm and a crooked smile. He turns his attention to Gabriel as he approaches, automatically beginning his line of chastising and questioning. You follow as Carl begins putting things into a bag for him, Garlic, Holy Water, amongst some weapons. After he causes a viscous fluid to erupt into sparks upon the ground, you giggle as he turns with his inventors' goggles down, magnifying his eyes to a ridiculous level. He gives you a sour look, “the air is thick with envy” he says, rolling his eyes and walking away as you continue to giggle. 

He shuffles around to grab more weapons, going on about some substances that can emit light equivalent to the sun, telling Gabriel to use his imagination with it. “No Carl, I’m gonna use yours that’s why you’re coming with me.” “Oh hell be damned I am!” letting out a dramatic gasp as you clutch your chest, “Carl! You Cursed! Monks aren’t supposed to curse.” You watch as a smug grin takes over his face, leaning in close to you as if to tell a secret, “Well actually I’m still a friar, I can curse all I want. Damn it!” giving you a wink as he shuffles back to his original spot. 

“The Cardinal has ordered you to keep me alive as long as possible.” he continues, about to walk away before you grab his sleeve, “Wait, what about me? I want to come along as well.” You’re met with a stern look, the both of you completely ignoring Carl's mumbles about not being a field man as you follow Gabriel out of the Laboratory, “No, that’s entirely out of the question.” “Why not? I want to come to Transylvania, I’m always left behind when you go on missions. You know I get bored easily!” “You’re always left behind because you don’t have the training to go on missions, it’s highly dangerous-” You stop him once more, “You trained me Gabriel, remember?” cutting him off as he goes to respond, “You’d rather let a friar, who has no fighting experience what-so-ever join you versus someone who can actually hold their own?” Giving him the best pout you can, “Please Van Helsing, let me come with you.” applying a slight shake to the arm still in your grip. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him, whether it be the determined look in your eye or the idea that maybe he could use you as help if all went south, but with a strong reluctance coating his words, he agrees to let you come along. 

‘It was the longest trip of my life, a battle through storms and cold only to be put right in the face of death.’ 

You were tired, aching, surrounded by an angry mob when the first one swooped in from the sky. 

The woman, Princess Anna, yelled for everyone to run inside, to find shelter, as Van Helsing shot at the circling Vampires, while Carl was leaning against the wells’ edge, whimpering. You follow the woman as she takes off running - right after landing rather promiscuously on top of Gabriel - eventually shoving her down a cart as two out of the three vampires reach for you. 

You pant for breath as the sun comes out, everyone in the town coming out with it. You walk towards your friends, reaching for the stake sheathed at your side as a noise emits from the well. You scream as the sun goes back behind the clouds and the orange haired vampire bursts up, grabbing Anna by the shoulders. The black haired one not far behind her, not even looking at you as she grabs you and tosses you through the roof of one of the houses. 

You lay there for a moment, paralysed with pain and fear that overtakes your whole body. You snap to attention as the door in front of you bolts shut, muscle memory leads your hand down to your stake sheath, only to find your weapon missing, cursing as you realise you must have dropped it somewhere along being thrown into a building. You let out a sigh of relief when you see Anna, the woman dropping to your side to check on you. You’re about to let her know you’re okay when all of a sudden the orange-haired vampire lowers herself from the rafters of the house. 

You point up weakly, eyes going wide and letting out a yelp as Anna immediately stands and turns to come face to face with her. “Hello Anna” she hisses out, completely dropping and transforming into her regular facade. You do have to admit, she is rather pretty. “Nice to see you too Aleera,” words doused with Venom. You make a move to help her, but when a sharp pain shoots throughout your whole body as you lean forward, you have no choice but to flop back down to the ground. “Did I do something to you in a past life?” Anna backs up slowly, the Vampire, Aleera, following her every move. “Don’t play coy with me, princess,” somehow teleporting to be in front of Anna, “I know what lurks in your lusting heart.” “I hope you have a heart Aleera, because someday I’m going to drive a stake through it.” You watch with bated breath as Aleera literally smacks Anna out of the window, then turns to gaze down upon you. 

She tilts her head at you, studying for a moment. A look that almost resembles recognition passes her features before she dives out the window after Anna. “Fuck.” you murmur, beginning to wiggle your limbs as you try to fight off the searing pain travelling through your body. When you’re able to move once more, you make your way out of the house, down the stairs and through the door, like a perfectly sane person, grabbing a large shard of glass from outside, watching as Anna bursts into another home. 

You weakly run, limping every step, attempting to follow her in case she needed what little assistance you could provide in your current state. Bursting into the house to see the two Vampires over her, mouths gaping open, fangs sharp and extended, their faces taking on slightly demonic forms. You watch as they suddenly scream, twisting and writhing as they turn back into their winged counterparts, flying out of the house.

You offer her a hand, no words passed between the two of you, only pained smiles and grateful expressions, lifting her up as the adrenaline leaves your body, limping out into the street with her. Walking towards the church where your friends sit on its steps, you pass by Gabriels’ hat, turning and grabbing it for him, gently brushing some of the dirt and snow off of it. Bringing it to him and sitting down, you’re met with concerning remarks from both him and Carl, hell, you’d be concerned too if you also saw your friend be thrown into a roof from 40 feet in the air, but you were just too tired to form any words. Letting your head thump back against one of the top steps as an angry crowd of Translyvanians forms around you. 

You’re thankful when Anna jumps to your defence, the revealing of Van Helsings’ identity forces the crowd to back off. You raise your head at the mention of a drink and somewhere to stay, muttering a ‘yes please’ before you slump back against the stairs. Feeling arms come around both your sides, both Carl and Gabriel help hoist you up, supporting your weight as you begin your trek to where Anna was staying, at the old Governors’ house. 

You can’t help the strange sense that washes over you at the sight of the building. 

“But soon, the final battle will begin, I must go and find out who our new visitor is.”

‘It was a restless night, full of aches. Visions of you and a man dancing through your head, along with visions of great pain and sorrow.’

‘Don’t do this Gabriel… Please let go of my wife.’

You could hear screaming, a woman falling through a window. Great agonising pain filling your senses ; grief, sadness, anger, all equally coursing through your veins. 

‘I’m sorry… But you broke the oath.’

Flashes of a happy couple pass through your mind, ending as you turn to be stabbed through the heart by Gabriel-

Shooting up with a gasp, feeling every bone in your body protest at such movement. You take heaving, gulping breaths, the fear seizing your muscles making it hard to intake oxygen. You can feel sweat running off you in rivulets as you try to equal out your heartbeat. What did you just see? This hadn’t been the first dream you’d had of this scenario, with Gabriel killing you, you’d had a dream eerily similar to this one when you first met him all those years ago, except in that one you were the woman falling through the window. 

Bringing up a hand to wipe absentmindedly at your forehead, trying to cease what you assume is a river of sweat. It’s only when your hand comes back covered in a fluid that’s smelling and stringing to your skin, it’s within that moment when you’re able to register the low growling do you look up, and come eye to eye with a werewolf. 

It pounces the second you look at it, giving you only a moment to roll out of the bed and scream as loud as you can. Dodging as best you can as the creature lays havoc to the room you’re in, ducking for cover as leaps for you, watching it crash through the window. You turn as your room door is opened, Gabriel looking in with features clouded by fear. He calls your name, coming around to rest his hands upon your shoulders, “What happened?” “Werewolf,” a shaky hand coming to point towards the shattered window, “Went that way.” Grabbing you by the shoulders he directs you to a ripped up armchair sitting in the corner of the room, sitting you down and handing you your stake, huh, where did he find that? “Stay here, I’ll be back soon.” 

You don’t stay, waiting a few moments after he’s left to get up. It’s only when yelling and crashing resonates from downstairs do you hurry your pace. You arrive at the sight of Gabriel running out of the estate and Anna standing in a catatonic state, staring off in his direction. Disregarding the broken window, you already have a feeling of what broke it to begin with, you turn to Anna, gently grasping her elbows and directing her attention to you. 

“Anna? What happened?” lifting one hand up to her neck, gently tilting her head from side to side, looking for any signs of pain or damage. “Are you alright? Did it hurt you?” That seems to do the trick as her glossy eyes fill with more tears, finally spilling over as she looks at you, “My brother. It’s my brother.” You say nothing, cooing slightly as her tears fall faster, pulling her into a hug. “He’s going to kill him.” Words murmured into your shoulder. “Who’s going to kill who, Anna?” “Van Helsings’ going to try and kill my brother.'' And with those words she takes off out the door. 

You grab a pile of fabric off the back of a nearby chair, knowing that the cold would be too severe for what Anna, and yourself, were currently wearing. You saddle up the horse you came into town on, going off in the direction of several sets of footprints. When you approach where Anna and Van Helsing stand in the graveyard you catch the remnants of what was undoubtedly a heated conversation. “He has taken everything from me. Leaving me alone in this world.”  You quietly dismount, grabbing the blanket you brought and throwing part of it over Annas’ shoulders, slightly startling her with your sudden presence. You say nothing as you resume your previous embrace with her, watching as Anna all but crumbles into the affection. 

“To have the memories of those you have loved and lost is perhaps harder than to have no memories at all.” his words spoken with a guilty glance towards you, an unexplainable rage filling you at the idea of whatever he could possibly be implying. “Alright, we’ll look for your brother.”

“It was obvious that Van Helsing was wary of this man, but when he turned to me I felt no fear. He looked at me in what could only be sheer reverence, and I felt my mind settle.’

The Castle was looming, with electricity zapping to and fro from the top tower. Hanging behind as to give Anna and Gabriel some time to talk. If the fate of Anna's family wasn’t at stake you would take the time to poke at his lovesick behaviour, but until everything was over you held your remarks at bay. 

Entering the dusty manor, pushing cobwebs out of your way, the three of you make your way into a room filled to the brim with sacks hanging from the ceiling, reminding you of very slimy chrysalides. “Have you ever seen these things before?” you aim your question towards either of your company. “No. What do you think they are?” Both of you turn to Gabriel, “Offspring.” “What?” spoken at the same time. “A man with three gorgeous women for 400 years-” “Yes, vampires are the walking dead, it only makes sense their children are born dead.”

Pushing your way through to reveal a grand hall filled with even more of the pods, electricity crackling down the hall and into the room you are in. Watching as the pods begin to pulse and wiggle. “Van Helsing don’t-” exclaiming in exaggerated disgust as he sticks his hand into the sack, throwing the slime substance out of his way. 

“So this is what you get when Vampires mate-” not given the time to finish his sentence as it comes to life, both you and Anna screaming out in disgust. Another blast of electricity barrels through the room, bringing with it a shiver up your spin and the jolt of a static shock. The three of you run as they begin to drop from the ceiling, faintly aware of voices coming from somewhere above you.

Despite Annas’ pleas, you watch as Gabriel exits out of your covered spot, entering the desolate hall once again to begin shooting at the vampiric offspring still flying around the room. He looks up somewhere in the room, a slightly smug look upon his face, “Now that I have your attention.” A giant winged creature falls from the sky and begins to pursue your friend. The gust of air it brings knocks over decorations, items falling all around you. You don’t even register Anna rushing up the stairs behind you, nor the beam and chandelier falling after her, blocking anyone from following. You do, however, register the doors at the end of the hall slamming closed, locking you in here with Van Helsing and the creature. 

Crouching down next to some crates, watching as the creature swoops down, turning into a man. Turning into the Count from the Cardinals’ slideshow. “I can tell the character of a man by the sound of his heartbeat.” A deep accented voice lilting, “Usually when I approach,” clapping his hands together in a slightly off-rhythm staccato, “I can almost dance to the beat. Strange that yours is so steady.”  Hands ending their sporadic clap as he continues to walk forward, all noise ceasing except for crackling of electricity.

When Gabriel drops down and stabs the man you can’t help the sadness that fills you. A strange sense taking over you, making you want to walk over and kill your best friend where he stands. “Requistat in pace” words uttered with an arrogance. You stand up, beginning to make your way towards them, “Hello Gabriel,” freezing in your steps. Did he know this man?

“Is this your silver stake?” pulling it out of his chest and tossing it over his shoulder. “How long has it been, 3- 400 years? You don’t remember, do you?” “What exactly is it I should be remembering?” The two of them begin to slowly circle around one another, “You are the Great Van Helsing! Trained by monks and mullahs from Tibet to Istanbul, protected by Rome herself! But like me, hunted by all others.” 

“The Knights of the Holy Order know all about you, It’s no surprise you would know about me.” “Yes but it’s much more than this” the man laughs as he takes a step towards Van Helsing, the two coming full circle. “We have such history, You and I, Gabriel. Have you ever wondered why you have such horrible nightmares, horrific scenes of ancient battles past. Horrific scenes of betrayal? Would you like for me to refresh your memory a little, a few details from your sordid past?” You shuffle slightly, the heel of your boot scraping across a loose tile in the floor, drawing the attention of both Gabriel and the Count. 

He gazes in disbelief. Freezing for a few moments before taking delicate, hesitant, steps towards you. You knew that you should probably flee, run for cover or to your friend, but instead you stayed put, Standing your ground as he approached you. He walks until the two of you almost stand toe-to-toe. An ungloved hand reaches out towards you and you can’t help the flinch that runs through your body, heart rate picking up in fear. He looks pained at your cower, hand still moving to brush lightly against your jaw, freezing cold fingers solidify his true nature to you.

 “Do not fear me.” 

‘I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.’

Words spoken in such a hushed whisper that only you could hear with your proximity. And for some strange reason, you find yourself calming at his words, the fear leaving your still shellshocked system, heart rate slowing. You pay no attention to your friend who’s currently sneaking up behind the man, completely enraptured by the Count. 

He mutters something that you can't quite catch, his hand beginning to drift down your neck, brushing against the necklace round your neck. He picks up the chain and lets it run through his fingers, getting steadily closer to the ring that resides on the end of it. A small silver wedding band that never seemed to tarnish rested along the chain, you had no idea where you had gotten it, it had been in your possession for what seemed forever. It was obviously valuable and you could never seem to part with it, in fear of it one day sliding off your finger during your work you ran it onto a bare chain, deciding to wear it as a necklace. 

Before he can reach the ring at the end of the chain the sound of something clicking into place takes the attention of both of you, him whipping around to grab the silver crucifix Gabriel thrusts into his face, screaming in pain as he makes contact with the holy item. Jumping away as the crucifix bursts into flames within his hand, beginning to melt. He tosses the remains of it away, regaining his composure at a lightning rate. 

“Perhaps that is a conversation for another time.” He takes a few steps back, walking a few feet past you. “Allow me to reintroduce myself, I am Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Born 1422, Murdered 1462.” 

‘Vlad’ rings through your head, the memory of glass shattering and screaming echoing through your mind. You don’t realise that the screaming has become real, Van Helsing grabs your hand and pulls you away with him, still in a dissociative state you don’t realise what’s happened until you both make your escape through a dumbwaiter. 

The two of you make your way to the roof, running into a frantic Anna. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Words rushed to you and her, Gabriel grabbing one arm each and launching off a line, extending all the way over the rushing river below, to the nearby mountain. The three of you speed off, almost making it halfway across before the line suddenly shakes. The werewolf from the house, Anna’s brother, suddenly hitches a ride on the back, sliding a bit before one of its claws slices the line in half, taking you and the half closest to the Castle, down.

You can’t help the deja vu that washes over you as you fall, the freezing cold river below you. The sound of Van Helsing and Anna screaming for you is drowned out by your own. 

You can faintly see the outline of someone looking over the edge of the castle railing, a yell of ‘no’ reaching your ears. The person disappears from the edge, only for a winged beast to take their place and jump from the roof. ‘It’s the Count’ you realise somewhere in your mind, closing your eyes in what could only be described as… relief? Even though your heart was beating out of your chest, deep down you knew you’d be alright. The wind is bitterly cold, nipping at your back, whistling in your ears. 

Until suddenly it’s not. 

Your body smacks into the water, cold overtaking all your senses as your body freezes. You can faintly feel yourself moving, arms weakly flailing to break the surface of the water to no avail. The current of the roaring river continuously pulls you under, giving you no chance to save yourself.

Right before you pass out from either shock or adrenaline you’re faintly aware of being pulled from the water and into the air. You’re held against something much larger than you are. One minute you’re plummeting, falling down and then sinking to your untimely demise and then the next you’re going up, soaring through the air. 

And with that, you pass out. 

~~~

You drift in and out of consciousness. You can remember being placed in front of a hearth, someone’s lap laid under your head, rough fingers running through your hair. Then three sets of hands and whispering voices, belonging to whom you believe were women, placing and pulling different layers of clothes upon you. You heard conversations about a creature and tracking it down, followed by being picked up by something much larger than you, a hood being pulled over your head, and the flap of great wings. 

When you fully wake, it’s to the feeling of flying. Slowly blinking your eyes you try to adjust to the darkness. You realise you’re being carried by a large creature. Pointed ears, flat-bridged nose, and a maw that contained razor sharp teeth. Its wingspan had to spread to at least 15 feet or greater, and had to be at least 12 feet tall. And you realise that it oddly resembles a bat. 

You hadn’t realised it was looking at you. Too busy in your observative reverie to notice the slitted dark grey eyes that had snapped your way. The large bat lets out a strange rumble when you make eye contact with it, beginning its descent. You’re laid down on what you assume is grass, watching as the creature soars back into the sky, transforming midair. That’s when you remember the last few hours of your life; officially meeting The Count, and all the strange emotions that came with the introduction, all of the rage, anguish, and nostalgia. And the fact that he had saved you, throwing himself off the top of the castle to rescue you from the river. 

He drops back down to the ground with a certain grace and elegance to his actions, slightly bowing with a hand outstretched for theatrics. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was doing it to lighten the air, immediately throwing you a smile and small chuckle as he does it. You can’t help the smile that overtakes your face as well, accepting the hand he offers you, pulling you off the ground. Finally taking in your surroundings, you realise you’re standing in front of a semi-dilapidated building. It looks to be a small fortress of sorts, surrounded by mountains on either side, along with the faint sound of a rushing river a great distance below you. 

“Where are we?” words muttered, turning to gaze at him. 

“Poenari.” 

‘He can lie and claim to be a hollow man all he wants. But when I finally realised who he was and what he meant to me, I could see the pure emotion overtake his face, and for once I swore I could hear a heartbeat that wasn’t my own.’

The two of you walked silently through the building. 

The dank remnants of the castle smelled foul; stagnant. The place reeked of death and sorrow, everything was covered in thick layers of dust. The Count walked quietly behind you, offering no explanation as to why you were here. Walking aimlessly through the corridors, footsteps echoing all around as you turn a corner, a loud gasp ripping its way out of the back of your throat. 

The hallway leading to a set of winding stairs was the embodiment of death. Dried blood and half decomposed skeletons line the path,  the stale smell of decomposition lingering in the air. You hadn’t realised you’d stopped until a hand placed itself upon the small of your back, gently pushing you forward. You observe the destruction around you, noticing baskets of mouldy, moth-eaten linens, and cleaning supplies next to some of the skeletons. “Servants.” rings out Dracula’s voice behind you, his hand still upon your back. Coming towards the end of the hall, right before the stairwell, you notice a bare spot. There was dried blood in an outline that shows it obviously pooled from someone’s body, but there was a lack of a skeleton, or any sign that one had been there, at least. “What happened to that one?” pointing down at the spot on the floor. “Agnes was buried.” is all he offers. 

You kept Agnes with you, after all she’d been one of your closest confidants since your mother had died.

He nudges you up the stairs, guiding you through the dark. At the very top of the stairs was a thick wooden door in the middle of a small hallway. At the end of a hallway was a painting. Unlike everything else in this place the painting was spotless. It looked brand new, not a speck of dust on it, like it had been visited often. 

That’s not what captured your attention though. What captured it was that the painting was a portrait of a man and woman. Happy, smiling, loving,

And they looked just like the two of you. 

You step forward, shoes lining up in the dust-free imprint of feet much larger than yours; a well-worn spot. Reaching a hand out, fingers gliding across the woman in the painting, your other hand coming up to brush against your own features. Same hair colour, texture, same eyes, same birthmarks and scars. Her hands crossed gently across her lap, upon her ring finger lay the ring you wear around your neck. 

Gasping, taking a stumbling step back, you whip around to face him. You can feel your heartbeat pick up, confusion and fear starting to take over. “Why-” breath uneven, “Why did you bring me here? What is this place?”

He brings a hand up to the door, pushing it open and stepping back, a slight sweeping gesture to show you go in first. 

“Our home.”

Entering the room, you’re met with what you assume was once a very luxurious room. A dilapidated four-poster bed sits in the middle of the wall that the door is on. The room is stagnant like the rest of the place, but like the painting, free of dust. There’s a dresser, a writing desk, and a gap, from floor to ceiling, jagged shards of glass still remaining around the frame of what was once a window. Torn, mouldy, moth-ridden curtains billow in the light breeze, the stone floor is covered in moss and mould, years of rain pouring in through the opening had made it so. 

In the middle of the room is a dark stain on the floor, a trail trickling from the window to it. You don’t want to believe it’s blood, the colour of it is black, too dark to resemble that which was under the skeletons in the hall, but you know. You know that it’s blood and whatever left the puddle wasn’t human. At the thought you cast a glance over your shoulder to the man who brought you here to begin with, he stands in the doorway, and goes no further than that. You take a step towards the gaping hole in the wall, mindful of any shards of glass on the floor.

You can hear the churning of fast moving water, you can hear the wind whipping in the wind, and as you bend slightly to look out, you can hear screaming. 

“Who are you?” 

“Who I am is of no importance at the moment,” 

“Well everything was lined up perfectly, but now, the Voivode has added a new term to the treaty. Your hand in marriage.” 

“I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.” 

‘He always treated you with a gentle hand, was never harsh, never cruel, and he never-ever raised his voice. You were his wife, and you should never need to fear him’

You failed to notice the dark figure in the corner of your room.

 “Don’t do this Gabriel,” “Please let go of my wife.” 

And with that, he pushes you out the window.  

And then everything went dark. 

You stumble violently away from the window, knees collapsing under your own weight. A firm presence makes itself known behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist, holding you up. Your vision is spotty, head pounding with this newfound knowledge of a past life and your eyes well with tears. You tilt your head up, making immediate eye contact with the man holding you. Your voice comes out scratchy and choked, “Vlad?” as the tears begin to spill out of your eyes. Vlad gives a pained smile as he turns you around and pulls your body towards his. 

The embrace is emotional as you reduce down to nothing but shaky limbs and heart-wrenching sobs. He holds you strongly, there’s not an inch of his body that doesn’t touch yours, and you could swear that in that moment, you could feel another heartbeat alongside yours. 

The sound of sizzling breaks you away from the hug, looking up in time to see a singular tear make its trek down his cheek, burning the skin it slides down. You quickly bring up your hand, sleeve pulled around your fist to dry it before it causes anymore damage. As you make a move to bring your hand back down he moves quick as lightning to hold it to his face, head tilting to place a delicate kiss upon the skin of your palm. “I missed you,” the words are soft, your throat still scratchy. “Not as much as I missed you, my darling” and with that, he kisses you. 

The kiss is soft, yet powerful. With the force of almost 200 years worth of lost time fueling it. Vlad pulls you even closer, if it were possible. You can still hear the light sizzling where tears are undoubtedly still falling from his eyes. His lips are as soft as you remember, his movements still the same as well. The only difference was his temperature, a constant reminder that you were no longer the same. 

A reminder of the reason you were in Transylvania to begin with. 

Before you can say anything, Vlad pulls away from you. His left hand continues to hold you firm at the waist while his right moves from your cheek to smooth over the top of your hair, coming to a stop at the nape of your neck, cradling your head. There’s a furrow in his brows as his eyes flit across your face, “What is wrong my darling? Why does your heart panic so?” you close your eyes and gently shake your head.

“What about Gabriel, Vlad?” 

“What about him?”

“The only reason we’ve come to Transylvania is so he can kill you, Vlad. He’s vindictive and will not stop until he sees you turn to ash before his feet. Oh this is all my fault,-” 

“Do not say these things.” His right hand tilting your head to look at him, “How is any of it your fault, my darling? Fate is not your fault. You were meant to come back to me one day, and now you have.” A delicate kiss placed upon your forehead, “And as for Gabriel. I will handle him myself. Now come, we have somewhere to be.” Taking your hand and gently pulling you back the way you came. 

When you make it outside, there's three women dressed in lavish silks, gossamer, and fine jewellery. You find yourself subconsciously clutching his hand harder when the three women outstretch their arms and move towards you. There’s almost an ethereal echoing coming from somewhere as the women surround you, cooing their praises. Delicate hands with thin, claw-like fingers move across you. One hand pats your hair, another down your arm, with a ghosting touch on your back. The women skit around, their movements are graceful, like a dance of sorts, and you find yourself in a trance like state. 

“Oh Master,” says the red-headed one, who you recognize as the one Anna called Aleera, “She’s just as perfect as you said.” You find yourself blushing at the statement and the attention that’s being showered upon you. Two cold hands scoop up your face to bring you directly in front of the long black haired one, “You are absolutely stunning, my dear.” “Thank you” whispered quietly, your face practically engulfed in flames. 

Casting a glance towards Vlad only to find he’s already looking at you, a gentle smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. The women stop their parade of affection with a singular lift of Vlad’s hand. “Have you taken care of what you needed to?” His voice echoing out with a seriousness to it as he reaches his hand out towards you. “They tricked us with the carriages, master, and escaped with the monster.” You can see the second that the anger forms in his eyes so you pull yourself away from the women to walk towards him, taking his hand and rubbing your thumb upon the back of his knuckles in hopes to sooth him. Your efforts work as he tilts to look down at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“No matter. Van Helsing is heading straight for Budapest anyways. Aleera I want you to go and follow them, Verona you go with her.” and with a gesture of his hand the two turn into their other forms and fly off into the night, leaving just Vlad, yourself, and the black-haired woman. “Marishka, take my darling and get her ready for tomorrow evening.” You hear a quiet ‘yes master’ as Vlad places a small kiss in the middle of your forehead, before releasing you to a now winged Marishka. “Don’t worry my darling, Marishka is a gentle flyer.” And with that you’re lifted into the air. 

~~~

You’re at a glorious castle in Budapest, a summer home, you remember Verona briefly telling you when her and Aleera finally catch back up. She works quietly and carefully to do your hair while you sit in front of the vanity, slightly nerved by the fact that you wouldn’t even be able to tell she was there if it wasn’t for her brushing and pinning your hair, the lack of a reflection startling. She makes small and polite conversation with you, including an apology for throwing you earlier in the town, as she admitted to not looking to see whom she had grabbed before she picked you up. 

“We are truly very excited to have you within our presence, for many years we have all heard stories of you, the heartbreak Dracula felt at the loss of you and your child never truly went away, no matter how we tried to quell it.” Her accented voice lulls quietly through the dim candle-lit room, and you're briefly hit with a burst of guilt and sadness at the idea of them trying to do everything they could to make Vlad feel better, only for him to rebuff their attempts. You can’t help but offer her an apology.

 “What for, my dear? You are here now and that’s all that matters, everything is as it should be.” and with that she finishes your hair, which has been gently pinned to your head, curls looking defined. Before you could say anything else she walks away as the two other brides enter the room. Aleera is the first to reach you, lithe fingers gliding down both sides of your neck as her cold hands come to lay delicately upon your shoulders. “You look magnificent,” words cooed to you, “truly stunning.” Finishes off Marishka, taking a seat next to you on the bench as she leans forward to reach for the jewellery. 

You hear the shuffling of feet, what you assume to be Verona returning from wherever she had gone. When Marishka is finished clipping in earrings for you, you turn your head to find Verona holding a light blue dress in a style much like that of her and the others dresses. It’s complete with gossamer sleeving that opens up around your wrist and trails all the way down to the floor, a form-fitting partially transparent torso and a loose skirt made of a layered sheer chiffon material. “And now for the final touch.”

~~~

You look and feel like a true goddess as the girls lead you down a hall, you’re conscientiously aware of the ethereal echoing that has returned as they giggle while taking you down to the ballroom. The music grows louder and louder as you approach a large set of double doors, half of a masquerade mask is quickly slipped onto your face as the doors are open and you’re thrust into the room. 

There’s hundreds of people in the room, ranging of all ages as you spot children up in the rafters. There’s people dancing, people performing on silks and with fire, and so many other things that it makes it hard to take in the grandeur of the room all at once. You’re aware of how you must look to all the others, jaw dropped and head constantly turning to take in your surroundings. When you turn your head to look back in front of you, you’re met with the sight of Vlad. He’s in his usual clothing, just with a gold cloak tied around his neck, a mask the same chromatic colour to match, with his hand outstretched towards you. 

You wordlessly take his hand and allow him to pull you closer, his hands gently begin roaming, one hand quickly lifting the mask to take in your features before dropping it back down to rest on your face. “You look absolutely stunning, my darling.” A cold kiss pressed upon your lips, “May I have the privilege of dancing with you?” Eyes boring into your own, he quirks up the corner of his lips into an ever arrogant smirk. “Why yes you may.” Words whispered towards him quietly, acutely aware of all the eyes that are upon the two of you. 

Vlad takes your hand and leads you to the spot directly in front of the platform in which a veiled woman stands upon. The rest of the guests clap as whatever piece of music is being played comes to an end, partners taking their places on the dancefloor. You quickly grab Vlad’s arm as a sudden realisation hits you, “Wait, Vlad, I can’t dance.” eyes wide with fear at the notion of making yourself look like a fool in front of all these refined people. He turns to you with a somewhat reassuring smile on his face, “Don’t worry my darling, you’ve danced this dance many times before. You know what to do.” A look of sheer disbelief covers your features, you open your mouth to throw a sly retort back to him but are promptly cut off as the woman on the stage begins a beautiful aria. He lifts your hand up delicately before softly spinning you outwards. All of a sudden you throw your arm out in a slow and graceful manner, the steps of the dance flooding back into your mind. When you spin back towards him there’s a certain look of, I told you so, overtaking his face, as he grabs your waist and pulls you towards him firmly.

He takes off his mask, then your own, before placing a kiss upon your lips. “I told you that you knew it.” as you both fall back into step with the others, “Of course,” smiling at him softly, “How could I ever forget the steps to the music of our first dance as husband and wife?” A puzzled look quickly takes place upon your face, “Is that the same singer?” question asked as you look back and forth between the veiled woman and Vlad. “You’ll find that many of the faces in this room, once unmasked, will appear very familiar to you.” He spins you until your back is to his front, subconsciously tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck for Vlad to place a cold kiss directly over your pulse point. 

The tempo of the music picks up and you, on instinct, fall into a faster spin with Vlad. He dips you in front of a mirror, eyes snapping over to look at your reflection, the way it appears that you’re floating, Vlad nowhere to be found, none of the other guests can be seen either. You come to the sudden realisation that you’re a mere mortal in a room with hundreds of vampires, your mind begins slipping, remembering the fact that you’ve been choosing to ignore to instead relish in your past; Vlad is dead.

An undead creature who never grows old, who feeds on other humans, you realise how temporary your situation with him is in comparison to the rest of his life. This one minute moment in a sea of others that are sure to come, and all of a sudden, your life pales in comparison. You can feel your stomach turning with the sudden acknowledgement, a wave of nausea hitting you. As if he can sense where your thoughts are going he quickly scoops you back up, continuing the dance. “It’s alright my darling,” the hand upon your back quickly sweeping up and down in a soothing gesture. “There’s no need to fear, nothing is going to happen to you, everything is going to be alright.” He stares into your eyes, his own translating the sincerity of his words. 

You feel yourself relax with the reassurance, head coming to rest just under his own, your eyes closing as you gently press your face into his chest. “What’s going to happen to me?” you don’t feel the need to elaborate, as you’re sure Vlad already knows what you’re asking. “Nothing that you don’t want. If you choose, it will be one brief moment of pain, and we can be together forever.” You pull your head away from him, your eyes still closed as he dips you once more, his hand skating up the front of your dress to rest upon your neck. “What if I choose yes?” “Then it would be my honour, my love.” A deep breath taken in, then he screams, dropping you in a blaze of fire as the cape he’s wearing begins to burn. 

You stand up quickly, worriedly making your way towards him before you’re swept off the ground. All the air is knocked out of your lungs as you tumble onto a balcony, slamming straight into a door. Disoriented, you can make out someone saying your name and shaking your shoulders. “Wake up!” You gaze confused into the eyes of Gabriel, as you hear a voice from down below. 

“Gabriel…” his voice is even, words spoken slowly. “Oh Gabriel…” you stagger towards the bannister in time to see Vlad step into the middle of the room, the cloak that he was previously wearing off to the side in a smouldering pile. All the guests have cleared a wide berth for Vlad as he stops and gazes upwards, a certain fear emanating from them. “Oh Gabriel, welcome to my summer palace.” A smirk thrown up towards him before he turns his eyes towards you, giving you a subtle nod as Igor bursts into the room with the Frankenstein monster in tow, screaming his revenge. 

“Now that everything… is as it should be… Ladies and Gentlemen, I give to you; Van Helsing!” The hundreds of vampires in the room unmask themselves, faces morphing into their sinister counterparts. The sound of screaming and screeching fills the room as you cover your ears, eyes cinching shut. Gabriel takes this as his moment to wrap an arm around you, pulling you away. You protest, squirming in an attempt to get out of his grip, which only causes him to hold you tighter and lift you off your feet. 

He burst through the door that you ran into, where you’re met with Anna right next to the door and Carl at the end of the hall next to a stained glass window. Passing Anna she grabs your arm, beginning to pick up speed with Van Helsing, causing you to squirm more, “Gabriel put me down!” But the protests fall on deaf ears. He strides with purpose towards Carl, a walk turning into a run. “O-Oh where are we going?” Carl stutters, dropping a device onto the floor, “Out the window!” and before either you nor Carl can protest, you shatter the probably thousand year old stained glass as you jump through. 

As you drop towards yet another river, a light equivalent to the sun fills up the entire palace, shattering all the other windows. The only thing you can think to do as you hurl through the air is to scream for Vlad, worried that he was caught in the blast of light, and then you once more drop into water. 

As you resurface you can hear the echoing of screams in the aether, your head continuously goes up and down as you struggle to get your bearings and to reorient yourself. Once you come up for good you take gasping breaths. Gabriel floats next to you, panting for breath with a certain ecstatic look upon his face, “Carl, you're a genius!” “Yes, a genius with access to unstable chemicals.” 

You watch as a boat with Igor, the Frankenstein Monster, and a few other strange looking creatures depart from the port, Van Helsing furiously swimming towards him, Carl and Anna following after. But you remain still. You can’t help but allow yourself to be consumed by the water for a moment, dropping back beneath the rippling current. The water is cold, all consuming, sending a shiver down your spine. You open your eyes, gazing up to see the moonlight cutting through the water and shining down to where you float. You watch the bones and remains of the vampires sink down to the bottom of the moat, the realisation that Vlad or any of the brides could be amongst them fill you with such an overpowering sense of loss. You clench your eyes shut and with the last little bits of breath in your lungs you scream. The air bubbles out of your mouth, floating upwards, you follow them, still screaming when you break the surface. 

The scream gains the attention of Gabriel, Anna, and Carl, who now hold onto a portcullis that had come down from the castle. Your voice gives out, eyes going blurry with tears, choked sobs making their way past your lips. You hear Anna call your name in a worried tone, beginning to make her way over to you. “Stay away,” voice so quiet that no one should have heard it, but Gabriel gives a sharp “Why?” You lift your head up to look at him, trying to blink the rain and tears out of your eyes. You’re about to say something but you see the half-circular red mark that had welted and scabbed over peeking out of his partially unbuttoned shirt. You’d recognize that mark anywhere. Years of pouring over all the books on the supernatural that you could find in the Abbey, hearing stories from Carl about the creation of monsters. 

Van Helsing had been bitten by a werewolf. 

Sensing your gaze upon the mark he places his hand over it. You continue to stare at him, not saying a word as Anna reaches you to place a comforting hand upon your shoulder. You hear her quietly ask what's wrong, turning to look at her, you see an abundance of understanding and hesitancy in her eyes. Could she know? Know that you felt your allegiances slipping to the other side? It was certain that Van Helsing knew, given by the anger in his eyes. 

You open your mouth to say something when the echoing sound of laughter comes through the air. You’d recognize that laugh anywhere. Three light shadows move through the sky, followed by one large dark shadow. You gasp as all 4 come swooping down towards the water, edges of wings slicing across the surface sending sprays arcing into the air. You watch as Carl and Van Helsing duck, Anna following their actions as well, her hand that was still on your arm tries to pull you down with her but before she can Vlad follows behind his brides, swooping down towards the water and plucking you from the surface. 

He makes a sharp turn upwards almost grazing the portcullis before flying higher and higher into the sky. He then straightens back out as you hang below him, Vlad holding onto you under your armpits as Aleera slows down to allow him to pass her before she places herself directly in front of you. You turn your head to look at her, noticing the ball of dark fabric within her arms. Watching as she unfurls it to reveal a cloak, placing the hood on top of your head before fastening it in place just below your collarbones. When it’s on you she gives a sharp grin before letting out another laugh and speeding up to resume her spot with Verona and Marishka. The wind whips at your back, causing the cloak to wrap around your front, you feel yourself being pulled up and jostled around until you’re almost in a position that resembles a bridal carry. Vlad uses one hand to pull the cloak all the way around your body, nestling you against him. You pull the hood further over your head before wrapping your arms into the cloak, balling it into your fists to hold onto the fabric, you turn your head until the wind is at the back of it, and at no risk of blowing the hood off. 

You shiver from the cold of your wet clothes, from the cold of the rain that is still falling, and from the wind that gets stronger from how fast you’re going through the air, the shivering leads to you being pulled impossibly closer to the creature that carries you, looking up to find sharp eyes already upon you, bat ears swivelling back and forth, listening for any signs of danger or discomfort. You can’t really read his expression, not in this form anyways. 

“How is it that I always end up falling from dangerous heights into water?” giving a half-hearted smile to convey that you’re telling a joke, and that you’ll be okay. You’re not given a verbal response, just a deep chuckle and the slight digging of sharp claws into your back, almost like his little way of jokingly warning you to ‘knock it off’. You let out a small giggle, laying your head against him once more, before closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

~~~

‘The peace that I felt, the sense of homeliness within the presence of Vlad and his Brides. The comfort of having these people who loved and cared for one another begin to love and care for me was something that I cannot describe in its entirety to you.’ 

There was no telling how long you were into the flight or where exactly you were going when you woke up. Your clothes were dry and the rain had stopped, although the clouds wherever you were out hovered ominously in the air with the promise of more. You let out a yawn, trying your best to stretch out your limbs while not trying to move so much that you felt like you’d fall. You feel a large hand about three times the size of your own smooth itself over the top of your hooded head before a deep rumbling voice lets out a curt remark of “Almost there.” 

It’s then that you see a large castle, much bigger than Castle Frankenstein or the one in Budapest. It has a bridge that leads nowhere, broken off not even one-fourth of the way across, surrounded by a deep abysmal ravine and peaks of snowy mountains for as far as the eyes can see, offering no way in, and no way out. 

Unless you had wings of course. 

The wives drop down around the halfway mark of the crumbled bridge and Vlad follows suit, dropping down effortlessly, transforming mid-descent, all with you still in his arms. He sets you on your feet slowly as the other three come towards you, their steps almost floating, the ethereal echoing filling the air around you once more. Hands come out to pat your hair and your clothes, various questions being thrown about; Are you alright? Are you cold? Do you need anything? You can’t help but fluster under all the attention, feeling your face grow warm. You go to answer their question before you’re caught off guard by a sneeze, which makes you shiver and bundle back into the cloak. They’re immediately sent into a panicked frenzy, going on about you falling ill from all the rain and cold, mumbles about a warm bath are the last thing you hear as they all disappear towards the castle doors, leaving you and Vlad standing there by yourselves. 

You turn to look at him, only to find him already staring at you, not that you’re surprised. He has this soft look in his eyes, one that you saw many times throughout your marriage in your previous life, there’s a smile on his face and you could swear that there was colour in his cheeks. 

You gaze around at your surroundings and are met with the sight of skeletons impaled on posts lining the bridge, giving Vlad an incredulous look you’re met with a look of sheer innocence. “Well I’ve seen this decor before.” laughing as you speak, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Vlad instantly responds without pause, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders, walking you towards the castle doors. “Oh really? So you’d have me believe that this is the doing of your brides?” feigning ignorance as you gently hit your forehead, “Oh silly me I had almost forgotten that you were married to Verona the Impaler.” sarcasm drips from your every word as he turns his head to look at you from under his brow. 

The walk remains silent for the next few minutes as you make your way inside the castle and begin traversing up the stairs. “Vlad,” met with a small hum, “How did you find this place?” You’re met with silence, watching as various emotions subtly twinge his features. “I didn’t find this place. I was banished here.” He doesn’t elaborate as you come to a set of doors, arm leaving your shoulders to hold it open for you. It opens to an expansive room, with another door in the room that is currently open with gentle wafts of steam billowing out of it. You’re met with the brides, who are finishing up drawing you a bath. You thank them repeatedly, stating that they didn’t need to do that for you, but are quickly silenced as they leave the room, except for Verona. 

“I’ll take your dress for you so it may be cleaned. The water has muddied it.” Giving a nod, you take off the cloak and move to drop it next to you before a hand swoops out and grabs it, throwing it over his forearm. Vlad then moves behind you to untie the laces of your dress, loosening it enough for you to drop it down your shoulders, where it is then promptly taken by Verona who leaves the room soon after. 

You make your way to the tub, trying to throw a leg over the edge in a very ungraceful manner before a hand is quickly placed on the small of your back, stabilising you as you lower yourself into the water that was at a perfect temperature. You move to take off all your jewellery, realising that you’re still wearing your wedding ring on a chain. Taking off the chain you remove the ring, acutely aware of Vlad’s eyes on you, sliding it onto your finger where it rightly belongs. 

“Are we still technically married?” question thrown thoughtlessly, “If I… you know, died.” growing quiet at the acknowledgement of your death, looking down and frowning to yourself. “Oh of course we are, my darling.” A cool hand tilting your chin back up to deliver you a kiss before pulling your head back some more to wet your hair. “Do not think otherwise.” 

You sit in a calm silence as he gently washes your hair before you decide to address what was really bothering you. “So, you were banished? By who?” He’s quiet for a few moments, the only sound in the room being the gently scraping of his claws as he swirls your hair around. “My father.” he says, voice nothing but a whisper, “after you and I died, I had a vision. The Devil had come to visit me to offer me eternal life, on the one condition that I would have to feast upon the living. I didn’t want it at first, I knew you were already gone, and the thought of living eternally without you was too much to bear, but the Devil told me that I’d be able to get you back if I agreed, so without thinking I made a pact with him.” 

Listening quietly as he rinses your hair and moves onto your body.

“When I awoke, I was in our home, in a pool of my own dried up blood. I saw the wreckage of the room and the rest of the estate and had no other option but to travel back to town. I walked on foot until I reached the Village where I was then met with the frightened looks of all the townspeople. When I arrived at the home of my father he was so disgusted by me and the demon that I had become that he had his men clap me in irons and walk me to a door of which there was no return, banishing me to this castle. I laid weak at the very edge of that bridge for many weeks, hoping that someone would come to let me back through, but when it was obvious that no one was coming, and that I was growing hungrier and weaker, I called upon the Devil once more, and he gave me wings.” 

You turn to look at him when the sound of light sizzling reaches your ears. “Oh, Vlad.” Reaching forward, the water of the tub gently sloshing with your movements, you place your hands on both sides of his face, fingers swiping carefully under his eyes to stop the tears before they can cause anymore damage. You pull his face towards you, placing your forehead against his own, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of his presence. “I’m so sorry.” “You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling.” Leaning forward to kiss him, you move one hand upwards to push the wayward strand of hair out of his face. His own hands come up to cradle your head, smoothing down over the back of your neck. “You would not imagine how torturous of an existence it was without you.” Voice hoarse and deep, his eyes darting back and forth across your face. “I think I could.” Leaning back up to kiss him once more, this one lasting longer than the previous one. You press your lips impossibly closer against his own, letting a soft noise of content escape your throat, that draws a hum from Vlad in return.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.” Pulling away and giving him the most sincere look you possibly could. The droplets of water on your back had dried and left you chilled, quickly dunking your body back underneath the surface of the warm water while Vlad reached for a very soft linen, gathering up all your hair and gently patting it dry. “No, no, it’s alright, my darling. After the Devil gave me wings I travelled to feast and rebuild my strength, then I went looking for you. Your body had washed up on a bit of shore quite far down the river, the shore was connected to a small alcove of trees and flowers. I buried you there, along with Agnes, where no one would ever be able to bother you.” He finishes with your hair, moving to grab another linen which he holds out across both arms. You take the initiative and lift yourself up and out of the tub, grabbing onto his shoulder for support as he wraps the soft and plush fabric around you, before helping you out. 

When you reenter the grand bedroom you find that a fire has been lit in the fireplace across from the bed, the flames roaring and flickering, filling the space with a comfortable warmth. You also find, to your shock, that your dress is sitting dry on the edge of the bed, cleaned and looking brand new. “Help me with it?” gesturing your hand to the dress, moving towards it as Vlad does the same, continuing with his story as he laces it up for you. 

“My existence trudged by slowly and painfully for many years after that. Even though I no longer feel emotion the way I once did, I can still feel hints of it, little tuggings of yearning or sorrow. I needed something to fill the loss, and that’s when I found Verona. She was a princess, if you couldn’t tell, she had regality and poise and she was stubborn in a way that reminded me of you. Then Marishka, who was a dancer in a travelling show, and then Aleera, who lived in the Village with Anna.” You raise your eyebrows, even though he can’t see it. “I didn’t realise that Aleera was that young.” a taunting lilt in your voice, remembering that you were only twenty years old when Vlad married you in 1460.

He pulls a little tighter on the strings, causing you to gasp and whip your head around to give him a look that simply says ‘Seriously?’  You open your mouth to say something when your stomach lets out a sound that rivals that of the fire blazing in the room, a heat filling your face as you slightly pucker your lips out of embarrassment. He laughs at this, tying off your dress. “Come, let’s get you something to eat.”

~~~

You spend the next two days relaxing in the company of the Brides, the more time you spend with them the more you come to love them. Marishka is witty, Aleera is a gossip, and Verona is a scholar, and their varying personalities make for a refreshing change throughout the day. You had, however, indulged all the girls in stories of what Vlad was like when he was still alive, the wistful look in all their eyes making it hard to deny them anything. You didn’t leave out a single detail, telling stories that made the girls cry, giggle, and blush, saying things that Vlad would surely deny if he was ever asked about them. 

Vlad had disappeared, to where exactly in the castle, you weren’t sure, but you were fairly certain it had something to do with the Frankenstein Monster and reviving the undead children. Even though the girls could keep you distracted you couldn’t help but have that nagging fear at the back of your mind; Van Helsing was still out there, and he wouldn’t stop until Vlad and the Brides were dead. Gabriel is vindictive and persistent, and you’ve seen what happens to those who test him. You’d expressed these feelings to the Brides, who had immediately began comforting you, the ethereal echoing and cooing bouncing off the stone walls as you were hugged and held while you spilled your every thought to them.

When you’d told them that Gabriel had been bitten by a werewolf, they all grew deadly quiet. The cooing had quickly turned into scared whispers that sent a chill down your spine before Verona quickly jumped up, changed, then flew off, presumably to pass this new information along to Vlad. 

“Vlad can control the wolves though, right?” A look passes between Marishka and Aleera, before the latter turns to you, “Only after their first full moon, before that they pose so much trouble.” “We can be killed by stakes, holy water, and other things, but Vlad is the first of us, our master, and he cannot be killed so easily.” chimes in Marishka before also leaving, quickly following after Verona. “There is only one thing in this world that can kill Dracula.” words spoken softly, timidly, Aleera sliding a hand down your arm before she moves to leave. “Can you guess what it is?”

Yes, you could guess. A werewolf. 

~~~

‘The final battle was beginning. I could feel myself being split in two, the half that was loyal to Anna, Carl, Van Helsing and the Vatican was fighting the half that was loyal to my husband, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera.

You had spent the rest of the night alone, sleep not finding you as you retired back to the bedroom, only to pace back and forth, nerves and nausea tearing at your stomach. It was later on during the witching hour when the door quietly opened, a dark figure making its way inside. “Vlad!” Crying out his name breathlessly, rushing to him to throw your head into his chest and your arms around his waist. His arms immediately find their way around you, pulling you so tight against him that there is no way to move, a gentle kiss pressed against the top of your head. 

He bends his knees, one arm lowering to rest right beneath your butt, hoisting you up effortlessly into his arms before walking over to the bed and laying down with you atop him. Your head lays on his chest, yet the room is absolutely silent. There is no noise beneath your ear, no gentle pulsing of a heartbeat, just hollow silence. The two of you say no words, and truth be told you don’t really think any need be spoken. You both understand what is to come, the battle that is no doubt making its way towards you. Vlad just holds you, a hand atop your head, lithe fingers running through your hair in a soothing manner. You feel yourself drifting to sleep, eyes growing heavy. You can hear him mummering to you in a language long forgotten in your dreary haze, making out a few words here and there. 

Another kiss is placed gently upon your forehead as the heavy covers of the bed are pulled up and over you, protecting you from the bitter cold of the castle. And with that, you sleep.

~~~

When you awake it is to the sound of thunder, and the view of lightning and pouring rain. There’s just the tiniest hint of light filtering through the rain, but the ever-prevalent darkness tells you that it’s almost nighttime, meaning that you’ve woken up just before everyone else. You step out of bed, stretching, before making your way over to the door. As you step out you’re met with the sight of the Dwergi roaming through the halls carrying various tools and papers. They don’t speak to you, they don’t even look at you, they just continue bustling down the hall as if you weren’t even there. You go the opposite direction of the Dwergi and make your way down the flight of stairs that leads to the connecting hall of the castle that will lead you to the wing where Vlad and the girls sleep. 

It’s then that you can hear the frantic blubbering of Igor from the main entrance. “How did you- how did you find… it’s impossible!” Quickly peeking out from around the corner of the door, you’re met with the sight of Igor hanging from the wall, blubbering some more as the person in front of him throws a hand around his neck. 

Van Helsing was here. 

You quickly try to think of a way to get around them so you can warn Vlad that they’re here when a loud shriek fills the entire castle, reverberating off the walls so loudly that you have to cover your ears for a split moment. You can faintly hear Igor, “my master has awakened,” and you take that as your moment to quickly sprint across the hall when the attention of everyone is taken by the Frankenstein Monster. 

You run up the stairs, following your instinct of where Vlad would be. You know that usually when he awakes he goes to the overseeing of the Dwergi working on bringing the children back to life, so you run as fast as you can to the Laboratory. Making your way up the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the tower you’re hit with the strangest sense of Deja Vu, ignoring the pit in your stomach that tells you the last time you went up a staircase like this you died. 

The doors open as you approach them, the Dwergi ever diligent in their appeasement of the masters of this home. You quickly stride across the room, dodging sparks and Dwergi before making your way to Vlad in the middle of the room. “Vlad! Vlad he’s here, Van Helsing is here.” words spoken in a panic, eyes wide open as you gasp for breath. You’re sure he can feel your fear, your heartbeat pounding wildly out of control, the whooshing of blood in your ears making it hard to hear anything else. 

His eyebrows furrow before his facial features morph into one of sheer rage, face partially transforming as he lets out an inhuman screech. Not even a split second later, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera appear before you, awaiting word from Vlad. “If Van Helsing has truly been bitten, they will go for the cure, I want you to go and stop them. Stop them and bring the cure to me.” They disappear as fast as they arrive, flying off in a mixture of shrieks and laughs. 

“And as for you, my darling.” Turning to look at you before you promptly cut him off. “No, I’m staying right here.” He protests, but you shut those down as well. “No, Vlad. You remember what happened the last time Van Helsing broke into our home and we were both apart from one another.” The question was rhetorical, and it seemed to garner the reaction that you wanted, Vlad seeming to be in deep thought. He slowly nods his head, but points back over to the door. “Fine, but you stay over there. Out of the way, you forget that you are still human, my darling.”

You wait anxiously by the door like Vlad told you, watching as lightning strikes and fills the room with an eerie green glow. Throwing your arms over your head for some form of protection as you hear a shout of “Give me life!” echo through the room. “One more bolt and my young will live!” You watch as Vlad suddenly becomes enraged, flying through one of the glass windows of the room. 

Moments later Van Helsing drops through the open tower that leads into the middle of the room, setting a few Dwergi on fire as he bursts through machinery. He stumbles as he stands back up, face twisted in confusion and pain, looking around the room. He spots you by the door, in your dress, covered in jewels with your hair done, looking every bit the part of one of Vlad’s brides. He looks betrayed, and for a moment you feel a sharp pain in your chest, wishing that you could say something to him, but before you could even think of what to say, Vlad drops back down, quietly behind Gabriel, sneaking up on him. 

“You are too late, my friend! My children live!” Vlad exclaims, stalking towards Gabriel, “Then the only way to kill them, is to kill you.” Nodding his head with a loose hand gesture, “Correct.” This causes Gabriel to laugh as he moves in front of the window, “Then so be it!” dropping his coat off as the clock strikes midnight. He transforms into a wolf with each toll of the clock as Vlad gives you a quick look before feigning surprise, maniacally laughing. 

“We are both part of the same great game, Gabriel! But we need not find ourselves on opposite sides of the board!” Quickly changing himself as he and Gabriel begin fighting one another. You duck down quickly next to a barrel as they traverse the whole room, explosions following their movements. 

You watch as Vlad throws a board off of himself, walking towards the middle of the room. “You are being used, Gabriel, as was I, but I escaped, so can you!” Before quickly flying off as Van Helsing jumps for him. You gasp as Vlad is thrown to the ground in a sound of extreme pain, revealing a broken wing. Watching as he jumps up to a platform, before falling, rolling over to his side to reveal that he is covered in blood and scratches. Van Helsing extends his claws before dragging them down a pillar in a threatening manner, jumping up to Vlad.

“Don’t you understand?” Backing away from Van Helsing, there’s a very obvious limp in his gait, causing you to step out from your spot, moving closer to where the two are. “We could be… We could be friends! Partners! Brothers in arms!” trying in vain to get away as Van Helsing catches him by the neck. You scream out his name, moving towards him before an arm is quickly gestured in your way, a sign for you to stay away. 

“Did I mention that it was you who murdered me? It must be such a burden, such a curse, to be the left hand of God.” Quickly appearing behind Van Helsing, “All I want is life, Gabriel. The continuation of my kind.” He throws a look towards you before holding up his hand, ring finger suddenly missing, “And perhaps the return of my ring! Don’t be afraid Gabriel, don’t be afraid. I shall give you back your life, your memory.” 

You miss the rest of what happens as a vial is placed in your hand. Snapping your head around your met with Verona, her vampiric face covered in scratches and bloody marks. “Give it to him, we must finish holding off the monster and the girl.” Flying back off to wherever she came from, you turn around right as Van Helsing jumps across the room, pinning Vlad to a piece of machinery, catching him off guard. 

He struggles to fight him off, Van Helsing's mouth getting closer and closer to Vlads neck. Vlad is using both hands to try and keep the werewolf as far away from him as possible, so giving him the cure is out of the option. 

There’s only one thing that you can do. 

Running across the room you’re able to make it to the pair right as Vlad’s arms give out from the effort of keeping Van Helsing away. He goes in for the finishing move but before he can your shoe scuffs against the floor, gaining his attention. He turns around, growling, pouncing on you without even a second look. You gasp as you’re hit, vaguely registering Vlad scream as you fly through the air with the wolf, quickly sticking the syringe into his side as you hit against a pillar, landing limply on the ground. 

Eyes wide open, but not seeing, slowly clouding over as you breathe your last breath, leaving nothing but a corpse on the floor. 

~~~

“No! What have you done!” words screamed throughout the room, Dracula making an ear-piercing shriek as he made his way across to you, pulling you into his arms, gently cradling your head. Cries of pain and shock are heard throughout the room as Gabriel turns back into himself, dropping to his knees before the dead body of his friend. 

Dracula is muttering words to you that Gabriel can’t understand as the three brides come bursting in through a window, one of them grabbing him by his shoulders and throwing him out the window onto the bridge that connects to the mirror they came through. On the bridge he is met with the sight of Anna, Carl, and the Frankenstein Monster slumped against the reflective surface. He approaches, shaking the shoulders of Anna and Carl to wake them up. Anna awakens first, groggily, “What is it? What happened?” placing her hand atop of Gabriels, the fog of her mind clearing away as she realises that Gabriel is crying. “What is it, Van Helsing, what has happened? Is Dracula dead?” He shakes his head, mummering your name quietly. “What about her? Is she alright?” He makes eye contact with Carl who is now also awake, watching as the realisation hits Carl, lip quivering “She’s dead.” Carl says with a finality, hanging his head and also crying. 

Van Helsing places his hand and quietly murmurs the word that will get the door to open before standing up and limping his way through. 

Damn the Vatican, as far as they’ll know, Dracula was defeated.

~~~

“No! What have you done!” words choked out through his injured throat. He lets out a shriek that will summon his Brides to him, running towards you before swooping to his knees, grabbing you, watching as your limbs remain limp, head flopping on a broken neck. He can feel the tears come, feel them burning tracks through his skin but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s vaguely aware of Verona riding the room of Van Helsing, before all three of his brides drop sadly next to him, all of them holding onto you. Cries echo throughout the room, his pain is their pain, but their pain is also their own, given all the bonding they had done with you over the past few days. 

He places one hand upon your chest, right over your heart, and that’s when he feels one faint, barely-there swoosh of blood travelling through the organ. 

It’s not too late.

Ducking his head down immediately to latch his teeth onto your neck, draining you of your blood. He holds his arm out, feeling a nail slice down his wrist, not sure who’s but it really doesn’t matter. He holds his hand to your face as he continues to drink your blood, watching his own trickle into your mouth. He pulls away from you, leaning his head towards his shoulder to wipe his mouth off, waiting for the cut on his wrist to heal itself, deeming that enough of his blood had been shared. 

You remain eerily still. Not a twitch of the muscles, a blink of the eye, nothing. “Normally there would be a reaction by now.” words murmured to himself, but are met by the supportive whispers and touches of his Brides. “Oh, my Lord.” Verona speaks, running a gentle hand across his face, “It takes some time, you remember how long it was until it took with Marishka. We waited almost all night.” Marishka murmurs her agreement, remembering the words spoken to her when she had awoken to her new life, ‘We thought you weren’t going to make it.’ But she had made it, and surely you would too. 

“Let's move her to her room, master.” Aleera standing up and moving towards the door, “She will be more comfortable there.” Vlad can’t help but agree, moving his arm that wasn’t cradling your head under your knees and scooping you up, making his way towards the door. He walks quietly through the halls, dropping you gently on the bed before making his way to the bathroom to retrieve a damp linen to wipe the blood off with. When he arrives back in the main suite he notices that his Brides have already removed all your jewels and undressed you, finding a soft shirt that Vlad briefly recognizes as one of his own to take the place of the dress you were wearing. 

He quietly wipes down your shoulder where he bit you, small flakes of dry and crusted blood coming off with ease. He then tosses the linen off to the side and takes a gentle seat next to you on the bed so as to not jostle you around. 

Vlad is a patient man, and vows to sit and wait for as long as you may need. 

~~~

You wake up in the room that belongs to you and Vlad. Sunlight shining in through the large windows, filling the room with tiny fragments of rainbows. You turn your head to the side and gaze upon your husband sleeping peacefully beside you, not being able to help the soft smile that overtakes your face. Leaning back down to place a flurry of kisses along the warm skin of his face, giggling quietly to yourself. 

The quiet romanian muttering as he stretches all his limbs at once alert you to the fact that you have succeeded in waking him up, watching as he cracks one eye open for only a split second before it closes again. “It is far too early, my darling.” His arm comes to pull you back down towards the plush surface of the bed, wrapping you up snug against himself. “Too early? Vlad, it's daytime.” “Still far too early for my taste, and besides, you should be getting all the rest you can.” A finger poking gently at your stomach. “It will be good for you both.” 

You don’t argue, cuddling up to him and placing your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

Wait, Vlad doesn’t have a heartbeat. 

You snap open your eyes, the room is no longer sunny, it’s stormy and reeks of death. You’re covered head to toe in blood and Vlad’s dead body is laying in the centre of the room, hand clutching his chest, a pool of blood surrounding him. 

You spin around, breathing, panicking, turning towards the doorway when a hand of claws snatches you up by the neck; Gabriel. He walks you to the window before throwing you out, you fall, plummeting towards your doom, when all of a sudden you stop.

You stop mid-air, something catching you. Turning your gaze upwards assuming you’d find something holding yourself, something that was preventing you from falling, only to find nothing but clear sky. You hear the gentle whooshing of wings, grey clipping through your line of sight out of your peripheral vision. Frantically looking around, slightly panicked you realise that the wings are yours. Looking down at the rest of you only to be faced with the sight of ashy grey skin, hands lifting up revealing lithe fingers with monstrous claws. 

You don’t panic, no, instead you revel in it. Smiling to yourself as you launch yourself into the sky, wings working furiously to move you higher and higher, and you bask in the feeling of freedom that it brings you. You move up towards the clouds, white filling your vision. 

And then you wake up. 

~~~

You open your eyes, overwhelmed by everything you see. 

It’s as if the whole world has changed, everything is so much more clear than it used to be. You can see everything; the intercrossing of the fabric of the sheets that lay overtop of you, the various colours of the flickering flames in the fireplace across the room, the detail of each individual snowflake that falls in front of the window. Turning your vision to the left, finding Vlad sitting on the edge of the bed facing the wall. 

Moving a hand from where it lays across your chest to place it gently on his arm. He jumps in surprise as you snap him out of whatever melancholic reverie that he was in, head snapping around to gaze at you in pure disbelief and relief. He scoops you up into a sitting position as he pulls your torso against his own in what should have been, quite literally, a bone crushing hug. “I thought it hadn’t worked.” words muffled from where his head lays pressed against the crook of your neck. “You were so still for so long, I… Never, never leave me again, I couldn’t bear it.” 

Pulling your head back slightly, Vlad doing the same, the two of you hold eye contact for a moment, opening your mouth to say something you instantly grimace, closing it back and reaching a hand up to grasp your throat, a searing pain now making itself known, a pain that you recognize as thirst. “Are you hungry?” Nodding your head to him at the same time the door to the room bursts open, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera pouring into the room in a symphony of ethereal echoings and giggles. Aleera is carrying a cup of a viscous red fluid which she then hands over to you. “Perfectly aged, to tide you over until we can get to the village.” 

Taking the contents of the cup with greedy gulps, you find that it doesn’t taste as metallic as you would’ve thought, in fact it’s not metallic at all, it’s actually rather sweet. It helps the pain in your throat enough that you can pretend it’s not there, at least until you get some more. The other four people in the room watching your reaction, and as you tilt the cup all the way to the ceiling to try and get the last dregs from it there’s a deep chuckle from Vlad. 

“Don’t worry, my darling, we’ll leave for the village and then you may sate your thirst.” 

The girls grab you, pulling you up from the bed, once the sheet drops you realise that you’re back in your dress, fully looking the part of your new life. There’s giggling and excitement filling the air, and you can help but practically vibrate in place from the joy that’s coursing through your veins. Once you’re up you all prance out the door and into the hallway. 

Vlad watches on in contentment at the billowing of green, yellow, pink, and blue fabrics through the hallway, the four of you radiating sheer joy and happiness. 

You’re not exactly sure where you’re going, but you follow the girls willingly. They lead you to a large room with dramatic arches on the ceiling, and large, sheer drapes hanging down from various spots. There’s a thick stone coffin with no top lying in the dead centre of the room surrounded by tall candelabras and you assume that it’s Vlad’s, which leads you to wonder where the girls sleep. Across the room there’s a carved out arch that leads to nothing but a solid wall, and you wonder what it’s even there for. When Vlad finally does catch up to you he throws his arms out wide, welcoming all four of you to him. When you’re all together you begin to slide across the floor towards the wall, the second you come into contact with it, you seem to almost melt through it, coming out the other side to a room that you remember being in Castle Frankenstein. 

It’s a portal. 

There’s an open skylight in the room that it leads out into, and when the girls begin to transform you know that’s your exit to the village. They fly up, leaving you and Vlad alone in the room, but hovering over the Castle, flying around in circles until you’re ready to join them. 

You stand awkwardly for a moment, turning to look at Vlad. “Um, how do I, you know,” arm coming up to gesture loosely towards the sky. “There’s really no way to explain it, you don’t think, my darling, you just do it.” Transforming himself, lapels melding into wings before he too, takes flight. 

“Oh yes because that advice is so helpful.” mumbling under your breath even though you know that he can hear you still, nevertheless you try to take his advice, willing yourself to fly, closing your eyes tight and balling up your fists to focus. When you hear cackles of laughter close by you open your eyes back up, realising that you’ve lifted through the skylight and are in-fact flying. Your skin grey to match the wives, equipped with claws and teeth of your own. 

You fly in a few test circles before giving a reassuring nod to them all. Then, you all take off towards the village. As you fly, you notice three horses racing through the mountains out of the corner of your eye, your newfound heightened senses allowing you to see miles ahead of where you used to be able to before. 

Upon one of the horses, is someone in a shaggy brown cloak; Carl. On the second, someone with a head full of curls, bouncing behind them with the movement of the horse; Anna. And on the last, someone who wears a leather coat and a hat, someone who with all his training surely recognises the feeling of the eyes that lay upon him as his head turns to look back, someone who notices that there is one more bat in the air than there used to be, someone who ignores this fact as he turns back around and continues on his way.

And so do you. 

~

Originally posted April 14th, 2023.

[sitp-recs]

hi, can you by any chance recommend any drarry fics where they're both professors?

Absolutely, anon! I hope you enjoy:

Professor Potter and his Magical Menagerie by @dracogotgame (T, 7.5k)

Harry Potter descends on Hogwarts with a horde of magical beasts. Professor Malfoy is not amused.

More Than That by joosetta (E, 11k)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

Homecoming by November Snowflake (E, 27k)

Harry thinks spending two weeks as a guest lecturer at Hogwarts will offer the perfect chance to get away from his troubles. Then he meets his assigned faculty guide: Potions Master Draco Malfoy.

Phoenix in the Fire by @lqtraintracks (E, 28k)

Harry never expected to have a hot summer fling with Draco Malfoy when he agreed to mind the castle with him. He also never expected that it would all have to end on August thirty-first. What happens when casual sex with Harry’s ex-enemy turns not casual after all? And how the hell is he going to stop Draco from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life?

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by Femme and noeon (E, 39k)

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms.

Of Roses and Dragonfire by xErised (E, 53k)

Years after That Kiss, Potter (and his new pet snake) appears again, this time as Hogwarts's Quidditch and Muggle Games instructor (what are Muggle Games anyway? Is this why Potter is swimming in the Great Lake wearing such a tiny pair of pants?), disrupting Draco's peaceful life as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

A Lick and a Promise by @tackytigerfic (E, 55k)

Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts! When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help. Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover—as DADA Professor, naturally. He’s going to need the help of the Ministry’s foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he’s not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea.

Finely Drawn Lines by @the-sinking-ship (E, 61k)

Draco doesn’t consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

Lessons in Humility by playout (E, 86k)

After the dissolution of his marriage and a good bit of soul-searching, Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new Defense teacher. Go figure, it happens to be the same year Draco takes over the role of Potions Master. Neither man is happy about this turn of events. Will they be able to set aside their differences and learn a thing or two about trust and humility on the way?

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

[honesty-my-policy]

Resources/Sources against HAMAS + more [re-organization of previous posted resources]

LONG POST - WILL PUT A READ MORE - SEE UNDER IT FOR MORE RESOURCES.

Sources/places that have uncensored footage from the Oct. 7th attack. For anyone who needs a reality check or needs to smack someone with a reality check.

THIS FOOTAGE IS UNCENSORED AND HIGHLY DISTURBING BUT IMPORTANT TO HISTORY. I HAVE WATCHED A LARGE COMPILATION AND IT STILL RUNS THROUGH MY MIND ALL DAY.

https://www.october7thattack.com/

https://oct7th.org/

https://www.hamasvideo.com/

https://theworldwatch.com/tags/hamas/

https://www.hamas-massacre.net/

important websites + articles they have posted

UN Watch - https://unwatch.org/about-us/our-work/

Fact Checking UNRWA Claims About Teachers and Education

Hamas stole 36,000 liters of fuel from UN warehouses

Group of 3,000 UNRWA teachers celebrates Hamas massacre and rape

UN staff celebrate Hamas massacre

The Case against UNRWA from UN Watch - link

2023-Report-UNRWA-pdf - link

Report: Red Cross Statements ‘Overwhelmingly’ Biased Against Israel - link

Honest Reporting - https://honestreporting.com/about/

Desperate Media Accuse Israel of ‘War Crime’ Over Killing of Terrorists in Daring Hospital Raid

Media Accused Israel of ‘Strike’ on Palestinians Who Died in Gaza City Aid Truck Stampede

Council on Foreign Relations -https://www.cfr.org/about

What is HAMAS? Link

The Sunni-Shia Divide - link

MeForum - https://www.meforum.org/about/

A Primer on Hamas; Part 4: Who Are the Palestinians? - link

Countering ‘Pro-Palestine’ Propaganda Part 4: Genocide and Ethnic Cleansing - link

Countering ‘Pro-Palestine’ Propaganda Part 5: Gaza is an Open-Air Prison - link

Countering ‘Pro-Palestine’ Propaganda Part 6: Palestinian Refugees’ Right of Return - link

Israel Can Trust Hamas - To Keep Its Promises - link

The Rhetoric of Nonsense - link

The Wilson Center - https://www.wilsoncenter.org/about

Digital Deception: Disinformation’s Impact in the Israel-Hamas War - link

Hamas: Words and Deeds… - link 

Hamas over-reporting civilian casualties in Gaza, again - link

Misc Articles (find the about page yourself if you care enough) -

Hamas use of human shields in Gaza (pdf) - link

Intelligence Reveals Details of U.N. Agency Staff’s Links to Oct. 7th Attack - link

Don’t erase our history: The Jewish people are indigenous to the land of Israel - link

Hamas’s October 7th Attack: Visualizing the Data - link

Teaching Terror: How Hamas Radicalizes Palestinian Society - link

Why Hamas is an Unreliable Source and How Many Reporters Fail to Disclose this - link

Misc Resources -

The Complete List of the 1030 Jewish Expulsions in Human History (pdf) - link

Educational Posts made by rootsmetal -

Palestine and the Holocaust

Hamas's Islamism

we are treated differently

evidence (there's plenty)

teaching hatred

united nations

lies about 1948

was there peace before 1948?

HAMAS Guidelines to Social Media (excerpts)

Anyone killed or martyred is to be called a civilian from Gaza or Palestine, before we talk about his status in jihad or his military rank. Don't forget to always add 'innocent civilian' or 'innocent citizen' in your description of those killed in Israeli attacks on Gaza.

Begin [your reports of] news of resistance actions with the phrase 'In response to the cruel Israeli attack,' and conclude with the phrase 'This many people have been martyred since Israel launched its aggression against Gaza.' Be sure to always perpetuate the principle of 'the role of the occupation is attack, and we in Palestine are fulfilling [the role of] the reaction.'

Beware of spreading rumors from Israeli spokesmen, particularly those that harm the home front. Be wary regarding accepting the occupation's version [of events]. You must always cast doubts on this [version], disprove it, and treat it as false.

The interior ministry prepared a series of suggestions specifically for Palestinian activists who speak to Westerners via social media. The ministry emphasizes that conversations with them should be conducted differently from conversations with other Arabs.

When speaking to the West, you must use political, rational, and persuasive discourse, and avoid emotional discourse aimed at begging for sympathy. There are elements with a conscience in the world; you must maintain contact with them and activate them for the benefit of Palestine. Their role is to shame the occupation and expose its violations.

Avoid entering into a political argument with a Westerner aimed at convincing him that the Holocaust is a lie and deceit; instead, equate it with Israel's crimes against Palestinian civilians.

The narrative of life vs. the narrative of blood: [When speaking] to an Arab friend, start with the number of martyrs. [But when speaking] to a Western friend, start with the number of wounded and dead. Be sure to humanize the Palestinian suffering. Try to paint a picture of the suffering of the civilians in Gaza and the West Bank during the occupation's operations and its bombings of cities and villages.

Do not publish photos of military commanders. Do not mention their names in public, and do not praise their achievements in conversations with foreign friends!

Recently I came across a bunch more ancient/old maps of the Middle East, Near East, Levant, Israel, and others. Some are remakes as the old ones were degraded or unable to be scanned, some are historian estimates of what the area looked like at the times, others are actual scans of maps from back in the day. I will link specific maps of interest but also databases below. I will link the maps first and the databases they are from above them.

David Rumsey Historical Map Collection (over 130,000 maps and related images online)

Alte Welt: Städte. (Old world: cities)

No. 1: General map of the countries mentioned in the Bible

No. 2: Map of the journeyings of the Israelites : in the desert

Turkey. Middle East. Ancient World

American Society of Overseas Research (online resources)

The Ancient Near East: The Hellenistic World c. 200 BCE

Neo-Hittite and Aramean States

Iron Age IIIv2 Empires

The National Library of Israel

Specific search for maps of Israel

Map History (part of the virtual library)

Index

Gallica (digital library of the National France Library and its partners + I don’t know if it’s just my browser but switching the language to English didn’t work much so it was mostly in French)

Database

Maps

W.F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research (Digital Collection)

Palestine of the Old Testament

Historic Map Works

ASIA/recens summa/cura delineata

United Nations Archives

Map Collection of the League of Nations + UNOG

Library of Congress World Digital Library

Map Collection

links to previous posts containing the same resources in case i missed any - link

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Do you have any ✨spicy✨ headcanons for the Wizard/Magnus with a male farmer? (It doesn’t have to be anything TOO spicy, but I saw the Isaac/Lance/Farmer you just posted so I HAD to ask)

Absolutely love your stuff, by the way! I could spend hours reading through your blog 🥰💛

One smut Magnus/Farmer headcanons to the dear anon! 🌝

You know, I'm still not sure about my nsfw headcanons, and I don't know if I'll continue to write in the same format. But you won't know until you write, and so far I'm quite enjoying writing this sort of thing as well. But yeah, enjoy, and thanks for the ask! 💕

_________________________________________

Some random smut Magnus/male!Farmer headcanons:

⚠️ Warning: NSFW

Honestly, in the beginning Rasmodius behaved very carefully and cautiously with Farmer during sex, which made him a bit ashamed. He, an experienced wizard already at quite a respectable age, wrinkled and worried as if it was the first time he was doing it. It was just that he had not had many partners in his experience (and only with women, Magnus had no male partners), and he didn't want to hurt Farmer. After a while, when old wizard had gained confidence, he not only began to feel comfortable, but also to suggest to Farmer a couple of fantasies he might like.

Magnus had to admit: sometimes the members of the Ministry of Magic held meetings so meticulous, pointless, and boring that he envied Camilla and her nerve to walk out of event without remorse. Oh well, at least now he had a way to distract himself with something else. Like dreaming about what he'd do to Farmer in bed when he finally got back to Stardew Valley. So many opportunities to have a wild night and relax, to hear Farmer's moaning in pleasure and him screaming wizard's name over and over again... Magnus wouldn't dream much, though, for it would be rather awkward to cover protruding boner under his robe.

Spanking is probably one of Magnus' favorite practices. And the old wizard favors the role of a dominant more than a subordinate. His bloved Farmer tease Rasmodius in front of his colleagues again, or start using magic where he shouldn't, giving his wizard partner/husband a headache because of the Ministry of Magic? Expect a "lesson in good manners" this night. Though the two of them love spankings, Magnus does have a heavy hand after all, so Farmer's ass won't be looking for an adventure for another two or three weeks for sure. Or maybe Farmer will, hee hee...

DID SOMEONE SAY FROTTING- *Bonk*

No, don't even ask him for a degrading kink. He's not going to do it, and Farmer's puppy eyes aren't going to help him talk Magnus into it. It's just... Humiliating and insulting and disrespect your favorite person like that... It's so wrong, it's beyond Magnus' comprehension. Yeah, he understands that Farmer might like it, but he- Magnus can't even say the word "whore" to him. Some thrills he's willing to accept, but not this. Sorry, but no.

Not to say that Magnus is against magic and spells in sex, but usually his arsenal includes only things to be used after lovemaking. Healing spells for scratches, restorative potions, that sort of thing - just about everything you need for aftercare. Though there was one book in his library with some very, *ahem*, interesting spells for variety in bed (that headcanon with the soundproofing spell). He wouldn't mind exploring something interesting with his partner. Within reason, of course, and nothing dangerous or out of bounds.

[whencyclopedia]

Angels in Christianity

Angels in Christianity act as messengers of God, bring good news, and help believers. Their role developed from the function of angels in ancient Judaism but continued to evolve as Christianity became a separate religion.

The Last Judgement by Giotto

Giotto di Bondone (Public Domain)

Jewish & Zoroastrian Origins

What became the independent religion of Christianity emerged in the 1st century CE from the teachings of a Jewish apocalyptic movement based upon the ministry of an itinerant Jewish preacher, Jesus of Nazareth. The prophets of Israel had predicted that God would raise up a messiah ("anointed one") from the line of King David, who would help to usher in God's final intervention in history, the eschaton, the final days. This was to be God's kingdom on earth, to restore the nation of Israel from its oppressors. The result would be a new Eden, God's original plan for humans. Jesus' appearance is described in Mark's gospel: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news" (Mark 1:15).

However, various groups of Jews had different views on the nature of the messiah. The Hebrew, "anointed one" in the earliest texts was from the story of the prophet Samuel choosing David as king by literally pouring oil on his head. Others had a more esoteric concept of a divine being.

The Achaemenid Empire ruled the Middle East, which included Israel, until Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE) conquered the region. The state cult of Zoroastrianism influenced concepts in Judaism. The original Persian creator god, Ahura Mazda, a being of pure good, emanated the spenta mainyu (creative spirit/mentality) in pairs of males and females who procreated. These beings created both the physical universe and humans. At the opposite end of the polarity of Ahura Mazda was druj, chaos, disorder, personified as Ahriman.

The spenta mainyu were often referred to with the term yazata to distinguish them from the agents of Ahriman. Yazata was Persian for a being "worthy of worship through song and sacrifices." This gave rise to the oppositional polarity of good against evil (angels and demons), with constant battles between the two forces. In ancient Judaism, only the God of Israel could receive sacrifices, but angels could be petitioned through hymns and prayers for benefits. The idea that humans had a "guardian angel" arose from Zoroastrianism.

Eschatology (the study of events in the final days, from the Greek eschaton) was the idea in Zoroastrianism that ultimately the good creator god Ahura Mazda would rescue all the good people in a final conflagration that would end the world as we know it. He would send the saoshyant, "one who brings benefits" to restore all the good souls. The living and the dead would be reunited and live in peace and harmony. Like the angels, the saoshyant was worthy of worship. This saoshyant figure was understood by some as a pre-existent, divine messiah.

To affirm that Jesus literally came from the line of David, Christians turned to Psalm 2, in ancient context a psalm about David as the first king:

I will tell of the decree of the Lord: He said to me, "You are my son; today I have begotten you. Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage and the ends of the earth your possession." You shall break them with a rod of iron and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel. (Psalm 2:7-9)

However, the term "sons of God" appears for the first time in Genesis, and it refers to the angels. From the beginning, the movement around Jesus was faced with the problem that angels were immortal, but Jesus died by crucifixion. A dead messiah was not much help to the Jews. A resolution was found in an early claim that Jesus was resurrected from the dead and then exalted to heaven to share God's throne.

Anastasis Scene in Chora Museum

Hagia Sophia Research Team (CC BY-NC-SA)

Continue reading...

[miuarchiv]

Scenario from a Friedrich Paulus book

Бланк Александр. Вторая жизнь фельдмаршала Паулюса Read with Google translate, accuracy not guaranteed.

· Walter, but Sie

An unpleasant conversation at RH’s office

“He was the most terrible figure among our statesmen,” Field Marshal Paulus felt it necessary to share his opinion. “Cruel, cunning, treacherous. I once ‘had the honor’ of being invited to talk to him.” “As you understand,” Paulus emphasized, “a summons to Heydrich was not an ordinary event even for an OKH general. And I went to see him very worried. ......The Obergruppenführer inquired about my wife's health," Paulus continued. "Apparently he knew about her from his wife: Helena Constanze and Lina Heydrich belonged to some kind of charitable society. "Your wife, General, is the object of constant attention from our fashionistas - they say her outfits are as magnificent as they are expensive… Where do you get so much money, my dear?" Heydrich joked. "I, for one, don't have any." Then he wiped the smile off his face. "Our Aryan women are now choosing a strict style of dress - there is a war and the fatherland is fighting," he noted. This was a clear hint at the non-German origin of Helena Constanze - "our Aryan women"… "But I," Heydrich finally dropped the joking tone, "of course, did not invite you to talk about the outfits of our ladies. "We are talking about your future trip to Bucharest and Budapest… We would like to ask you about something…" The Field Marshal fell silent. There was no continuation of the story.

Paulus, without any apparent connection to what was said, remarked: "Someone said it right: everyone imagines others in their own image and likeness. This is a very true thought."

The Field Marshal did not mention Heydrich again: the conversation remained unfinished. Only some time later, Paulus's close friend, his former first adjutant Wilhelm Adam, finished the story.

After talking about fashions and the modesty with which an Aryan woman should behave, Heydrich got down to business: "So, we have a favor to ask of you." He immediately picked up the telephone receiver and said quietly but rather insistently: "Schellenberg, please come to see me."

The head of the RSHA's foreign intelligence service immediately appeared and told Paulus in a peremptory tone: "Mr. General, we know that one of your relatives in Bucharest serves as the head of the cipher department of the Romanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We will call him Stefan. Another of your Romanian relatives - we will call her Rosita - married a communist who is in preventive detention. We also know that your third Romanian relative is married to a man who remained in Bolshevik Bessarabia. Finally, and this is the main thing, we know that you, Mr. General, are a true patriot and a loyal soldier of the Fuhrer… Schellenberg fell silent, brazenly examining Paulus's face. Most likely, he wanted to understand what impression he had managed to make on the young general. Apparently, the scout caught the confusion on his face and, considering the issue resolved, stated the main thing without any disguise. - So, in a few days you are going to Bucharest. We cannot guarantee that the Romanians are always honest and open with us. And if your relative Stefan could help us to verify this, we would highly appreciate such a service.

Paulus literally choked with anger. Without hiding his indignation, he asked Schellenberg again: - You wanted me to recruit Stefan for you? Did I understand your proposal correctly? - Well, why state delicate issues so simply, - Schellenberg said with feigned offense. - It's about strengthening the relationship of trust, nothing more. - No, thank you. I'm a soldier, Herr Colonel (Schellenberg then held the rank of SS Standartenführer, which was equivalent to a colonel in the army), and I'm used to speaking frankly, without any beating around the bush. I'm not suited to the role of recruiter of agents, I don't know how to steal other people's codes. My job is to fight, and if necessary, to die for the Fuehrer and the Fatherland.

And then Heydrich, who had been silent the whole time, intervened: - We are not forcing you to do anything, Herr General. Walter simply asked for a small favor. The reasons for your refusal are clear to us, we respect them. After all, you don't want to endanger a close relative of your wife.

And even at that moment Heydrich did not miss the opportunity to sting Paulus. He supplemented the statement he had just made about understanding his position regarding his relative with a clearly offensive phrase: “And such a generous man – after all, he manages the family accounts of the Rosetti family.”

Seeing Paulus’s face flush again, the owner of the office stood up and said conciliatorily: “Let’s forget about this conversation. Walter, you are free to go.”

· Rumors are everywhere

At the same time, there was a version among the officers of the General Staff that Heydrich sent men with sledgehammers to smash to pieces a marble tombstone over one of the half-abandoned graves in the Leipzig cemetery, where his grandmother with a non-Aryan name was supposedly buried."

RH 's paternal grandmother was Ernestine Wilhelmine Lindner, his maternal grandmother was Maria Antonie Mautsch(Slavic in origin, but not Jewish anyway).

[mrs-sharp]

I did a bit of research and scraped together memories from a few semesters of psychology, hoping I haven’t fundamentally gotten anything wrong. I attempted a small (clinical) psychological analysis of Sharp in which, of course, some things had to be shortened, trying to determine how the events in Scarborough might have affected him.

TW: Mention of PTSD, trauma, personality disorders

Does Sharp suffer from PTSD?

What is PTSD?

• Trigger: uncontrollable, unpredictable event

• Stress reaction where people suffer from the persistent re-experiencing of the traumatic event (flashbacks, nightmares)

-> Guilt for surviving

-> In addition to chronic stressors, everyday stressors also influence the course of the illness and mental state (noise, stressful events (I’m looking at you, Garreth), job stress)

• There are several stages to diagnose PTSD:

1. Trauma

In psychiatric classification systems, trauma (in relation to PTSD) is defined as follows: (only) exceptional, (potentially) life-threatening events or events associated with severe injuries; applies to Scarborough, but:

-> not every trauma leads to PTSD; while an estimated 60% have had a traumatic experience, only about 8% of the male population develop PTSD (for women, it's 20%); the likelihood increases if the trauma was inflicted intentionally, which applies to Scarborough.

2. Flashbacks, nightmares (explanations follow below)

3. Avoidance behavior

-> Avoidance of stimuli related to the trauma:

So, we have this: Sharp claims that fear played no role in his decision to leave the Ministry:

-> there is a study (Lanius et al. 2003) that compared traumatized individuals with and without PTSD: those with PTSD showed lower brain activity when experiencing emotional memories (people with PTSD thus suffer from a disorder in emotion processing)

-> What does this mean? Either the emotion is present, but Sharp's brain can not process it, or maybe he simply doesn’t want to discuss his emotions with a student

-> Repression might also play a role in this statement, as well as the fear of making himself vulnerable (if someone uses my fears against me, I have to relive them)

4. Overstimulation

-> constant state of alertness

-> sleep disturbances, irritability

5. Duration > 1 month

6. Psychosocial impairments

Problem: We don’t see much: Does he have nightmares, flashbacks, concentration issues? Does he relive the trauma? Does the experience restrict him?

Between the lines, it can be seen that he feels guilt, but there is hardly any indication of the extent of it (if he didn’t feel guilt, to be honest, that would worry me too).

Counterarguments / Ambivalences:

• He speaks relatively openly about what he experienced

• He admits his mistake: this could be a sign that he has come to terms with it or that he blames himself for it

• He actively seeks a cure and even takes a new job for it, which argues against avoidance behaviour.

7. Differential diagnosis

-> Reactions to trauma can cause disorders of varying severity

-> Trauma can also bring other psychological disorders, including adjustment disorders, or:

• a persistent personality change after extreme stress:

Aesop mentions that success can make one complacent. From this, it can be concluded that the trauma has profoundly changed his personality:

• in the above-mentioned disorder, the personality change includes:

-> among other things, a hostile and distrustful attitude (thinking of the first encounter with MC, see this post),

-> social withdrawal (new job)

-> as well as constant internal tension and restlessness out of fear of being threatened (his extreme perceptiveness could be a sign of this; when MC talks to Garreth, Sharp knows exactly what they discussed afterward)

-> all this therefore applies to Sharp

However, this disorder tends to occur with persistent stress that can begin in childhood, which either indicates that Scarborough, though a one-time event, still burdens him, or that his personality changes cannot be classified as a disorder.

Conclusion: Sharp probably does not have PTSD, but Scarborough caused severe trauma. We can assume that the event has profoundly shaped his personality. Whether it can be called a personality disorder, I can not judge. However, I do wonder what the "old" Sharp was like. But that’s a question for another post.

[trans-bread-of-life]

Yesterday morning, I had a dream where I was on an elevator with a few people from a “discipleship school” (borderline cult) that I went to back in my Evangelical days. One of the ministry leaders got onto the elevator, said hi by name to every person but me, and only when I said hi to her again did she say hi, still refusing to use my name.

The dream was probably a realistic picture of what would happen if I ran into this particular woman someday, but I’m also wondering if it doesn’t have something to say more broadly about the experience of being a trans man.

As a cis-passing trans guy, I don’t really have a lot of places to belong in the queer community. I’m not a gay man, and gay male spaces are generally a minefield of dysphoria & avoiding chasers anyway. I relate to the sapphics, but as a man, I never really fit in their spaces (even when they try to be more inclusive). Trans-femmes have their own right-knot communities, but I really just have a few isolated trans-masc friends I go to for advice. I could probably fit in with cishet people, but I would have to hide the fact that I’m trans.

And when it comes to dating (mostly women & feminine people, as I’m kind of 90-10 bi favoring women), I keep shooting my shot and being turned down over and over again.

I don’t think I’m the only person experiencing this. In fact, I think it’s a systemic challenge that trans men face. As we are transitioning and reaching the times when we most need strong community support, we’re suddenly forced into the isolation of North American manhood. The message that we hear (usually implied, but occasionally out loud) is, “you wanted to be a man, so welcome to the worst part.”

But of course trans men are even more isolated than cis men, because all of these wild things are happening to our bodies with no one there to teach us to shave or show us how to navigate these new gender roles or help us figure out what the fuck to do with all of this ass hair.

I’m lucky to be involved in very queer church circles, where there is a critical mass to form a robust queer friend group, but not a big enough group to break off into specific identities. But that’s the only place where I’ve found myself belonging to a group and forming deep friendships.

I want there to be parties and queer community events/spaces where my presence is actively wanted & encouraged. I want to have memories that counter the many experiences I have (and the many more that I will have) of romantic rejection. I want to feel like I’m enough, and I want to feel like I belong.

I don’t know what the solution is (besides more spaces open to all LGBTQ+ people and maybe me figuring out to be hotter or something?) but I have to keep hoping it will get better.

In the meantime, hug a trans guy (with his consent) the next time you see one.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

If I recall correctly, Dolores Umbridge drafted the Anti-Werewolf legislation in 1993, which made it impossible for werewolves to get a job and support themselves among wizard kind. Seeing as how Chiara is living her dream as a Healer. How long do you think she'll fare until the ramifications of this new law shatters her hard earn dream. What then?

Well, here's the thing.

That law would most notably affected Werewolves who are out to the public, and thus listed in the Registry. We know Remus wasn't still a secret Werewolf because Snape, bless his heart, took that decision out of his hands. What's curious and oh so depressing is that based on the timeline of these events, I don't believe this is a coincidence. I think the discovery that Dumbledore had harbored a Werewolf at Hogwarts, that there was a functioning member of magical society who had managed to fly under the radar...I think that really frightened the Ministry, and pissed them off too. Whether Umbridge was inspired to push this law through because of Remus' story...whether it was made easier for her because of his recent outing...I wouldn't be surprised. So yeah, that's not fun.

But! The point I'm trying to get at is that this wouldn't apply to Chiara. In happier news, she is not publicly outed as a Werewolf, to the best of my knowledge. A select few among her friends know, and presumably the heart of the Hogwarts staff, but it's hardly common knowledge, and the important thing is that The Ministry has no idea. Which is good news for Chiara. She's a remarkable Healer and St. Mungos would never want to lose her. In fact, I don't think they'd give her up without a fight. Were she outed, she might struggle to find a job in Healing, but if she already had "job security" then her coworkers and superiors could possibly fight for her role. Not saying they would win, but she would be less screwed over than Remus ended up being.

[emeritus-fuckers]

"What's my role in the Ministry?" event

Or Ministry role event for short

Since we hit 600 followers and you chose this one, let's do it.

Basically, this is another match-up event, I suppose. But we've learned our lesson and we ask you questions instead of letting you write long paragraphs because while we appreciate your enthusiasm, sadly my ADHD brain has serious issues with long blocks of text. I do realize it is partially my fault for not really setting any standards on it, which is why we're setting them up now.

In the Ministry role event, you answer six questions. Keep you answer to each question up to five sentences so I don't lose my mind reading them (Nyx has been overworking herself with the match-up event, I wanna handle more of this one).

Here are your questions.

1. Would you say you're more likely to be a Sibling of Sin or a Ghoul? Why?

2. Which Papa would you prefer to work with? Why? (Sister Imperator is included)

3. Are you an introvert, ambivert or an extrovert? Tell us a bit more about it.

4. What chore do you like the most/hate the least?

5. Do you like to travel, or maybe you prefer to stay at home?

6. Freebie. You've got five sentences to tell us anything you want about you.

Keep in mind, your answer to any of the questions is not a guarantee of a specific result (for example, you telling us you're more like a Ghoul only helps us know you better, it may not automatically make you a Ghoul).

The event will end on July 20th.

[ghoulez-vous]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄

( nsfw ) cardinal copia x ghoulette!reader / eventual smut / angst / mild descriptions of violence / emotional hurt / other tags to be added / ao3 link

You are a Nameless Ghoul, a servant of Satan and now the mysterious Clergy. Once a terrified newly summoned ghoul, you soon became well respected amongst the other ghouls and Siblings of Sin. You grew attached to the young Copia, a new Sibling. Much of his youth was spent at your side, from his integration into the abbey to his ordainment as cardinal.

Forbidden love and diverging expectations make for tragic fates. An organised, infernal tragedy occurred and your bond was shattered.

Is it possible to rebuild what was lost, or are you truly destined to remain apart?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐌𝐞𝐚 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐚

Smouldering flames flickered amongst the dying hearth, illuminating the room with a sickly amber hue. The heady scent of smoke permeated every section of the lounge. All were mere remnants of an eventful night, hosted in the abbey. It was a reward for their diligence, an evening of debauchery reserved for the Siblings of Sin, ghouls and even the reigning Papa and his relatives should they choose to join.

Pacing past the unsightly scene, Copia’s footsteps resounded through the room, only occasionally muffled by a torn blouse or long abandoned undergarments. A bleary eyed figure rose from a maroon chaise longue, displaying a lackadaisical demeanour despite his degraded state.

“Buongiorno, Cardinal. I see that you didn’t join us last night.”

“Terzo.” Copia’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the man for a brief moment, exasperated by the Papa’s macabre form. Obscenely smudged lipstick stains decorated his already unkempt face, black and white blending together where once perfect skull paint had been. His hair was no longer neatly parted. Strands of raven hair were plastered to his flushed cheeks and sodden brow, the vast majority of his hair completely fluffed up.

Morning prayers had been delivered by Cardinal Copia himself rather than the lackadaisical Terzo, and the latter of whom’s absence had been noted by none other than Sister Imperator herself. It was a dangerous game to play, particularly given the reason for his absence.

“I see that you had an… enjoyable night.” Pinching his brow, the cardinal couldn’t help but shake his head lightly in disappointment.

“Si, Cardinal. Enjoyable. Not that you would know, of course.” Yawning loudly in a way that could only be described as obnoxious, Terzo couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at Copia’s weary features. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You haven’t been to an orgy yet, have you?”

“Well, you see….” He fumbled his words. “They’re not my thing, fratello.”

“Abstinent, are you? What a boring way to live.” With the grace of a newborn ghoul kit, Terzo attempted to rise to his feet but was defeated by his own groggy state. Instead, he elected to recline upon the maroon velvet chaise longue, acting as if that was what he had intended to do in the first place.

A loud tut could be heard from the dark entrance, sparing the flustered Copia from Terzo’s incessant teasing.

“Terzo. Not again.”

A disgruntled Sister Imperator was a petrifying sight but a perturbed Secondo could strike terror into even the most formidable of hearts.

“Ah, Secondo! How kind of you to join us. I was just telling Copia here that he needs to get his cock wet. Perhaps that would cheer him up, si?” The reigning Papa piped up, a lopsided grin on his beguiled face.

“Silence, stronzo.” Secondo’s intimidating form proceeded to step further into the hushed room.

To be Papa was the greatest honour one could receive within the confines of the abbey. A strong individual whose priority was in serving the ministry, a role model of sin to spread the word of their Dark Lord. Despite his success in performing, Terzo was lacking in discipline, and it had not gone unnoticed. He was, however, exceedingly popular with the lesser members of the clergy. A charming and witty man that knew precisely how to please and rally favour from those around him was bound to be well-received.

“When I recommended that you dedicate more personal time to our followers, I did not mean that you should fuck them during your established work hours.” A snarling tone accompanied every harsh word that Secondo uttered. Early mornings made for a particularly gruff former Anti-Papa.

“It is not my fault that I am popular, fratello! You also attended many an orgy during your time as Pa-“ Terzo blurted out a feeble attempt at resolving the conflict but was swiftly cut off by his brother.

Secondo leaned in closer, teeth gritted. “And do I hold the role of Papa now?” He rose a hand in Terzo’s direction and promptly drove a finger into his chest three times, each contact more forceful than the last. “Sciocco pigro. Fai il tuo lavoro correttamente.”

An exasperated Copia waved his hands between the two, an uneasy smile on his painted lips. “Now, now, I think Terzo has been scolded enough. He’s learned his lesson. Isn’t that right, fratello?”

“Si!” Terzo flashed the two men a valiant grin though he couldn’t conceal the mischievous glint that flashed in his eyes.

It was more of a formality than anything; Terzo would absolutely do it again.

“Mm, Terzo’s idiocy aside, I can’t deny that the idiota has a point, Copia.” Secondo’s painted lips curled up into an undeniable smirk. It was no secret that Copia was considered the least virile of the upper clergy and the man was more than aware of it.

Confounded, the cardinal found himself exceedingly grateful for the ghostly pale paint that virtually concealed his rosy blooming cheeks. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words to string out. An unsteady hand sought a distraction and he reached up to set his hat straight despite knowing that it sat perfectly neat atop his head.

“Is it because of her? The ghoulette?” Terzo blurted out with little consideration of the consequences.

Secondo flashed Terzo a look that clearly said ‘not now’, his permanent scowl faltering as his mismatched eyes widened somewhat.

“How many years has it been now? We all miss her, Copia, you need to move on.” Ever ignorant of Secondo’s warnings, Terzo continued forth with his insensitive line of questioning. “She was Primo’s ghoul first. It was his sangue that drew her from the Infernal Depths.”

Copia opened his mouth to respond in anger but couldn’t choke out a single pained syllable, his chest tightening in a manner that would have made tears sting his eyes if he wasn’t set on retaining any semblance of dignity. His muscles tightened under the emotional strain, jaw clenched so tightly that he feared he might damage his teeth.

The silence was unbearable as it set upon the room, each clergyman unable to break it lest the full weight fall upon their shoulders.

“Come now, Terzo. You need to freshen up before tonight’s ritual,” Secondo grimaced as he took charge. “You look awful. È imbarazzante.”

“Awfully handsome, si?” Terzo released a tense laugh, smoothing down his ruined shirt. “Say, Secondo, are you still fooling around with that maid? Cook? Gardener? I can’t quite recall.”

“Terzo.” The second eldest Emeritus son growled, letting the other man know that he was truly on thin ice.

“Alright, alright, no need to give me that look.” With an exaggerated sigh, Terzo glided towards the exit. A dramatic flick of the wrist that was intended as a nonchalant wave goodbye and the reigning Papa had drawn himself through the doorway to wreak havoc at his intended destination, most likely.

Copia wasn’t certain how long he had stood idly in the same position but the gentle amber glow of morning had been replaced with the burning sun overhead. A brief glimpse to the left would reveal that the fire was no longer smouldering, only soot and lumps of charcoal remaining. Each audible footstep to his room echoed in his head as he rushed to his place of comfort: his personal chambers. It felt as though he were drowning in his sorrow, his throat tight and body trembling. ‘How befitting of a pitiful cardinal,’ was the only thought that remained comprehensible in his mind as panic prevailed. Siblings whispered amongst each other as the fleet-footed man swept past them apathetically, ignorant of an occasional hasty greeting.

As Copia finally reached his penultimate destination, he slammed the white door shut and slumped down against it. Tears threatened to prick his eyes as he clamped a hand over his mouth, dry sobs wracking his body.

It had been years since the incident had occurred. Many years of unknowing, confusion, and regret. Each anniversary went unnoticed by all except for himself, or so he thought. He was so lost in his own grief that he didn’t care for the brief glimpses that Secondo took at the calendar, the fresh flowers that Primo laid at the rite ritual altar, the special bottle of amber whiskey that Terzo used to drown his sorrows. Whether it was through selfishness or concern for his brothers, he wasn’t certain.

He blamed himself for his frailty. It had been a betrayal of the utmost sort.

You were a close friend, a companion, a paramour. It was a relationship burnt to ashes. In which pit of Hell did she reside, he often found himself wondering. Had the others of her pack accepted her amongst their rankings once more, or was she treated as an illicit kit? There was no way of knowing.

Forced summoning of a ghoul was a dangerous procedure, and one that could only result in suffering for all those involved. Copia couldn’t help but find his mind wandering to the painful memories that were bound to him like thorns that sought to bleed bare flesh. He had made you suffer, and to bring you back in an agonising process would be selfish. What if you didn’t want to return to this world? What if you despised him for his meekness?

Regardless, he knew not of the painstaking process to do so. The ancient rite was closely guarded by the Bibliotecarie.

‘You cannot drag a hound from hell, lest it feast upon your throat.’ Sister Imperator’s harsh words resounded in his mind. ‘Is that a price you would be willing to pay, Cardinal? To risk not only your life, but that of your companions? Regardless, the hound left of her own will.’

‘She left because you forced her.’ Copia had wished to raise his voice and hurl cruel words at the woman. ‘I did not abandon her.’ He had snarled in retaliation, uncharacteristic of him.

When it came to matters involving you, his precious companion, he was no longer the meek cardinal. If another emboldened Sibling threatened to harm you due to your status as a Ghoul, an infernal servant of the ministry, the typically meek man would have risen to your defence with balled fists and a booming tone.

Alas, that time, of all times, he had been weak.

He was like a kicked dog with his tail between his legs, muzzled and shaking. Although he disagreed, he remained silent. Guilt wracked his body, its foul claws driven deep into his chest as it flayed him where he stood.

A human and a ghoul were the perfect conjugation of sin, but it was not an appropriate bond for eternity. Copia was bound for a greater purpose. Sister Imperator had reminded him that day, drying his endless tears with a silken tissue.

You were merely a ghoul, a bestial servant of Satan intended to kneel before the members of the clergy.

To Copia, you were his first, and his last. Or so he had intended.

Drawing his trembling knees close to his heaving chest, he reached for the ivory pillow that lay to his side and buried his face in the soft fabric. The darkness soothed him, allowed for positive memories to glow forward and drown his anguish. Visions of sleek horns, bouts of contagious laughter and interlocked hands.

~~~

The sounds of harrowing hellfire howled in your ears, your bestial claws engraving cavernous marks into the dense surface. Tortured souls begged for mercy, pleading with whatever God they wallowed under in the waking world. Their pleas would not be heard, not in this infernal place, nor anywhere else. You paced forward towards the threat, your ears drawn back tightly against your skull in a threatening display. A fire ghoul was your current foe, well accustomed to the blistering flames of this circle.

The Pit was the physical manifestation of the phrase ‘kill or be killed’. Ghouls would rip each other apart over any slight conflict if they were not affiliated with a pack. A mere scornful glance to a quarrel of which soul they wished to torment, conflict was inevitable almost always fatal. For now, however, there was no need for conflict. Your bared canines and honed claws were enough for the fire ghoul to concede defeat and saunter off in the direction of more vulnerable prey. Even the flames of Hell paled in comparison to the inferno that had engulfed you on that terrible day. Harrowing burn marks could heal, but the emotional scars lingered despite your time spent in The Pit.

Did he think about you? Had you been a mere servant of the clergy all along?

You weren’t certain, nor did you care. The gnawing sensation in your core screamed that was not the case, but you had to push it aside. You didn’t have to continue fighting and slaughtering your kin yet you did.

There was no time to mull over it any longer. A particularly dangerous foe, an earth ghoul, had locked onto you. Forked tail wrapped around your thigh to prevent it from becoming a weak spot during combat, you launched forward in an attack with twenty years of anguish behind it.

[missnight0wl]

I don't know why but the new Hunger Games song 'Can't catch me now' made me think of Rakepick and I wanted to know if you get the same vibe 👀

Hm, hold on, let me listen to it…

Ok, first of all, this is a pretty dope song. I’d probably hear it sooner or later, but thank you for telling me about it earlier. I really like it ❤

Secondly, to be completely honest, I don’t think Rakepick would come to my mind if you didn’t tell me that… But to be fair, I think it’s mostly because I knew from the start that it’s from the new Hunger Games, and while I didn’t read “The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes” yet, I did watch some spoiler videos, so I pretty much now the story – and I simply can’t not think of Lucy Gray when I hear this song. On the other hand, I can also see why it does make you think of Rakepick. Because... yeah, it does have the vibes. And you know what? I saw your message when I was in bed already, so I didn’t check the song right away, but I was like: “Hm, Rakepick and Katniss are kinda similar…”. Of course, not quite in personality, but like… the theme? And I say Katniss because, from what I gathered, Katniss and Lucy Gray have that type of similarity, too, so I guess I’m putting them all in one group.

Ok, so I think it’s mainly about the fact that Rakepick is a rebel. Personally, I’d say it’s one of her core characteristics. Remember when we asked Snape about her school years and he was like: “She was a danger to everyone at Hogwarts and the very principle upon which this school was built”? Sure, he was probably being dramatic because he is Snape, but I don’t think he was just being dramatic. Then we had those moments implying that she had a beef with the Ministry, and while she was not disrespectful about Dumbledore, I wouldn’t call her very respectful either. Finally, we have her whole relationship with R – and to be clear, I’m talking about Rakepick’s story before it was ruined by JC.  I mean, let’s take the letter we found in Y4.

To me, “final warning” means there were warnings before that one. Moreover, it had to be sent in the past. And where Patty was at the time we found that letter? At Hogwarts, searching for the Cursed Vaults. It actually kinda fits the chorus of the song:

But I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze My footsteps on the ground You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now

There’s just something very “uncatchable” about Rakepick indeed. Also, this idea of being ever-present actually goes along with her role in the story, imo. How she’s being mentioned in Y2 already, how she ties it all together and whatnot.

Also, not directly connected to the song, but you know how the main Hunger Games series is all about Katniss's willingness to sacrifice for Prim?

I still claim that she was genuine at that moment because it was way too late for any attempts at manipulating MC. And I do think that sacrifice was meant to play a much bigger role in Patty’s story overall.

Finally, one last more random thought. Well, technically two. Katniss is strongly associated with fire, right? Now, tell me “the girl on fire” does not suit Rakepick perfectly. On top of that, a while ago in HPHM, there was that masquerade ball TLSQ. And I thought then that it would be way more interesting if it wasn’t at Hogwarts, and it was Jacob and Rakepick attending the event. I talked about it with my friend, and I kid you not, I even mentioned the dress Katniss had in “Catching fire” while describing what would Patty wear.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Having both De Gaulle's and Churchill's account (this was one of my grandpa's most prized possessions and I got it after he died) of WWII around is pretty interesting.

On one hand, because De Gaulle is a much more pleasant and engaging storyteller. Mind you, that doesn't mean he's more accurate or anything like that, but he works the concept of a memoir as "the things that happened as I remember them, and the impressions I got from them". Churchill is doing a heavy, heavy chronicle, full of transcripts of telegrams and letters and communications and maps every 2 paragraphs or so, which might be very useful to the amateur historian, but that makes the experience of reading it as a narrative akin to chewing drywall (hence why I have never really read it before; just read a bit here and there about specific events).

The fun part here is the contrast when the perspectives collide.

In early June 1940, De Gaulle is made secretary of the Ministry of Defense in France and sent by the president on a mission to London, where he meets Churchill for the first time:

"Mr. Churchill received me at Downing Street. It was the first time I had a meeting with him. The impression I got of him reaffirmed my conviction that, led by such a fighter, Great Britain would never bend. Mr. Churchill seemed to be prepared for the most difficult enterprises, as long as they also were grandiose ones. The certainty of his judgement, his vast culture, the knowledge he had of most of the matter regarding the countries and men he dealt with, and at last, his passion for the specific problems relating to war unfolded with ease and pleasure. Above all he was made, by virtue of his character, to act, risk, and play his role decidedly and without hesitation. In one word, I found him decided in his position as guide and chief. Such were my first impressions. What followed did nothing but confirm them, revealing to me as well his eloquence and the profit he derived from it. Whatever his audience was -multitude, assembly, council, even a single listener-, whatever the spot -in front of the microphone, at the tribune, at table, or at his desk-, the original, poetic, and moving torrent of his ideas, arguments, and feelings gave him an almost infallible ascendancy within the dramatic environment in which the poor world panted. Able politician that he was, he used that angelic and diabolical gift to stir the passivity of the English character, as much as to impress the spirit of the foreigners. Even the humor with which he seasoned his gestures and phrases, and the way in which he sometimes used politeness and sometimes anger, showed to which point he dominated the terrible game in which he was immersed. The harsh and painful incidents that happened several times between us, caused by the friction of tempers, the opposition of certain interests of our respective countries, and of the abuses that England committed to the detriment of a wounded France, influenced afterwards my attitudes towards the Prime Minister, but in no way did they affect my opinion of his qualities. Winston Churchill always appeared to me, from the beginning to the end of this big drama, as the great champion of a great enterprise, and the great maker of a great History.

Churchill does not record this meeting at all. He cannot have just "forgotten" or dismissed it. You don't forget meeting a 6'5 dude of extremely idiosyncratic posture and manner, specially if you had to deal with him on a regular basis afterwards. The painfully slow and detailed telling of his memoirs don't allow for "it was insignificant enough".

The first mention we get from Churchill is something the like of "I went to Paris to see Reynaud, and there was a very tall fellow walking the gardens".

The fourth time Churchill visited France in 1940 is at a meeting and dinner they both attended. De Gaulle recalls an encouraging comment Churchill directed at Petain, then this:

"Mr. Churchill showed himself imperturbable, full of drive, but keeping a polite reserve in front of the cornered french; he was already overcome -and perhaps not without a certain secret satisfaction- by the terrible and magnificent prospect of an England abandoned to its fate at the island, England that he was to guide to salvation through effort... After three hours of discussion that led nowhere, we sat to dinner. I was by the side of Mr. Churchill. Our conversation strengthened the trust I had in his will. And him, in turn, I am certain, drew the conclusion that De Gaulle, though without material resources, was not a less resolute man."

Meanwhile, Churchill:

"After an interval, we were led to the castle, where we found Reynaud, mariscal Pétain, general Weygand, air general Vuillemin and some others, including the relatively young general De Gaulle, who had just been made sub-secretary of the Ministry of National Defense... Around ten o'clock everyone took their places at table. I sat by the right of Reynaud; by my right was general De Gaulle."

That's it. That's all he had to say.

Don't get me wrong, De Gaulle's text is full of elegant darts at Churchill's manipulative, petty and sly doings and sayings, he's not like, The VictimTM here. It's just very funny that De Gaulle goes "Churchill was a great chief of war, because he was determined and master of himself and also a manipulative backstabber", and then Churchill goes "De Gaulle who? I have no idea who this tall and not very young person whom I needed and used and tried to get rid of and couldn't and who irritated me and annoyed me to no end is".

*All quotes are my translation from the Spanish translations I'm reading from, sorry.

[wutbju]

The Wartburg Watch has a story we BJU alumni need to see.

Long-time readers are aware of my undying love for science fiction. As I read tributes paid to Bodie Weiss on the event of his death in 2020, I contemplated the molestation of Tyson when he was a teen. How can a man so beloved be capable of such evil at the same time?

How many of you have read Speaker for the Dead by Orson Card? It’s the second book in the Enders Game Quintet. (Maybe you saw the Enders Game movie?) Ender destroyed an entire civilization when he thought he was playing a game. In the second book, he deals with his guilt. He posited that the remembrances of the dead are often glowing, knowingly skipping over the pain caused by the person in his life. He said that it did not do justice to that person’s life. So, he began to work with people to change how we remember the dead. We are to tell the truth and remember the entirety of each life.

What didn’t they say about Bodie Weiss in the obituaries?

Here is his obituary from the funeral home website. (He died of an internal infection during Covid.)

Bodie was born in Bangor, Maine on October 5, 1961. His family lived in Bar Harbor until moving to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania in 1973. At the age of 14, while walking through the woods near his home, he gave his life to the Father and began his life-long devotion to following Christ’s example. Bodie graduated from Bob Jones University in 1984. It was there that he met his wife, Kathy. He earned three Master Degrees, and a PhD from Cambridge University. After marrying in August of 1984, he and Kathy moved to Austin, Texas where he worked for Coca Cola delivering product to convenience stores throughout the city. While attending a local church, he was asked to take on their small youth group which became a paid position leading him into full time ministry. While pursuing a youth ministry opening on a whim, he sent his resume to Eastminster Presbyterian Church in Wichita, and was hired in the role of Sr. High Youth Director. Because Bodie understood that the Father worked through him, he was able to build a large youth group emphasizing relationship with both the Father and others. He often said “You only have two things to do today, love the Father, and love others.” The youth group became well known throughout the country and articles were written about it in youth leader’s journals. Bodie was a prolific writer and had several books published. He drew inspiration from the writing of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Brennan Manning, LeAnn Payne, Dr. Larry Crabb, and many others. Bodie is survived by his wife, Kathy and several friends to whom he ministered to both in full-time ministry and the social work he did after leaving full-time ministry.

I believe Bodie was a monster but appeared as an angel of light. His obituary gives a hint that things were not as they seemed. He applied on a whim to lead a youth ministry at Eastminster Presbyterian Church, now known as Eastminster. He had first been to a church in Austin. At the height of his success, he left the ministry and went into social work. How many times did the abuse in this story play out in other venues?

Let this post be a speaker for those he harmed.

Tyson looked back at his relationship with Bodie and his friend group at church.

Tyson was a high school youth group member from 1994 to 1998. He said Bodie was a “great teacher.” In some respects, it felt much like it must have felt for Jesus’s disciples. He emphasized the love of God and was kind. He related to both the popular kids and the “least of these.” He seemed “real” to the teens. He worked with the boys, and his wife worked with the girls.

Tyson said Bodie emphasized the following in his teaching:

There should be no guilt or shame in being authentic.

Vulnerability and honesty were key.

Strong male friendships were important.

Love God and love others.

Tyson felt that he and others were looking for a strong male figure.

Bodie reached out specifically to kids with no fathers, either through death or divorce, as well as to kids whose dads were alcoholics or emotionally and physically abusive.

To this group of teens, Bodie seemed to live like Jesus and that they were like his disciples. As some know, abusers often pick out the kids who are emotionally vulnerable and play on that weakness.

Tyson described a “push/pull” duality, which he now describes as grooming.

The boys would seek Bodie’s approval and attention. He would appear uninterested in a boy for a short time. Then, he would turn on the charm and be attentive. Suddenly, he would revert to coolness or disinterest. The teens would seek out and hope once again for his attention.

Tyson said he would make odd comments during this time.

He was critical of Tyson’s attachment to women.

He would sometimes jokingly say, “I’m not gay or anything.”

He wanted them to “share affection.”

He wanted them to say that they loved each other.

He encouraged them to be vulnerable with one another.

He encouraged full, frontal hugs.

He once told another teen, “Oh, I’m not trying to make out or anything.”

Tyson said by this time, they had “zero resistance” toward anything Bodie would say

One-on-one time

By this time, the teens wanted to spend time with Bodie. The youth group grew large, and their love for one another was evident. Other churches wanted to learn how to do similar ministries in their churches.

Eventually, Bodie began to offer one-on-one time with the students. These times could be in the church, his house, or even his cabin during the church summer camps held at Westminster Woods Camp. At that time, a cabin was away from the rest of the camp. Bodie always liked to stay in that cabin alone, and he would invite boys to stay with him alone at night.

It is vital to remember that he had built up these teens to trust him implicitly. They all wanted to be the boy Bodie chose to stay with. Tyson said it bordered on jealousy when another got chosen.

I appreciate Tyson’s description of Bodie’s unique form of grooming.

I also want to thank Diane Wheeler of Westminster Camp for speaking with me. The Wheelers took over the camp after these events. They tore down that cabin, noticing that it did not fit in with the excellent safety practices they currently maintain. She said they would never allow anyone to be alone with an adult. She was also aware of what had happened with Bodie. I respect her concern for the safety of the children.

Tyson’s one-on-one encounter turned into abuse.

Tyson noted that whenever he met with Bodie, he “always seemed to be getting out of the shower.” He would appear shirtless with a towel around him and get dressed in their presence.

Tyson was alone with Bodie when he noticed that the blinds were drawn. The room was dark and painted a maroon/brown color. The back windows faced west. Two couches faced each other. A fan was running. Bodie came out of the shower, and as he dressed, he left his shirt off.

Bodie lay down on one couch whileTysot sat on the other. Bodie said that this was a sort of counseling session. He said that men could care for one another and that it was not a sexual thing. He asked Stuart to lie down on top of him and began kissing him.

Tyson said he bought it 100% when Bodie said this was a lesson in intimacy between friends. Stuart said he left “feeling like an adult.”

Tyson knows of five others who were abused.

He says that others were abused far worse than he was. He also noted that some of those being groomed were not abused, and then those odd push/pull behaviors would stop around them.

Bodie was eventually let go after Tyson went away to college. The church still recommended him to others.

Some parents complained to the church about Bodie’s relationship with their kids. The kids were upset and defended Bodie against these “attacks.” It seems to me that Bodie trained them well. Eventually, the leaders apparently witnessed Bodie using the cabin to be alone with the boys.

There was an “undefined incident, and Bodie was let go from his position at the church. He would go to another church, and it is alleged that Eastminster recommended him!

There is an allegation that there was a lawsuit against the church and that there was inevitably an NDA, and everything went quiet. Folks, there is no place for NDAs in the church. If that happens, someone who was harmed is not allowed to speak. How could a church think this is what Jesus would do in such circumstances? There is an international effort to stop NDAs in churches that claim to follow Jesus.

Tyson has needed regular counseling as he began to understand that Bodie abused him.

He has spent an enormous amount of money learning to deal with the fact that he was groomed and abused at Eastminster. As Tyson grew older, he began to understand that he was manipulated by Bodie to be abused. This is a normal progression. The older Tyson tells the younger Tyson that it is OK to talk about what happened.

What about Eastminster?

Today, I called the church to tell them I was writing about what happened with Bodie. I said that there were other kids abused as well. I had great hopes that a pastor would speak with me and express concern for the lifelong pain and confusion that Tyson and others had experienced. After all, what would Jesus do upon receiving such a call? Would He go quiet and call the lawyers? I don’t think so, but who knows what gives in churches today. I wonder if they care that Stuart no longer attends church because of his experience. I think I understand the phrase “frozen chosen” better.

What should Eastmnster do?

Yes, I know the pastors and church leaders have changed. However, as CS Lewis said in the quote above,” time doesn’t cancel sin.” I believe the church has a moral and spiritual duty to discover and reach out to all they can find who participated in Bodie’s youth group. What does that look like? Maybe they’ve already done so?

An effort should be made to contact as many people as possible who have spent time in that ministry. They should ask the victims to come forward to the church.

Eastminster should be aware that it is likely that there were many more molested who did not come forward. It is inevitable when dealing with a paraphilia.

Eastminster should contact any churches Bodie came from or went to and alert them of the probability of more victims.

The church should offer to help them by paying for counseling for all who were harmed. Tyson has come forward via this post.

They should have a third-party, independent investigation to evaluate the church’s safety protocols. GRACE is one such group.

They should make an announcement in church and offer apologies from the church for what happened.

Eastminster cannot pretend this didn’t happen. The church body has a responsibility to be the church to those abused.

How is Bodie remembered?

He did a good job of teaching about love and friendship, then screwed it up by harming some of those he taught. Yet Stuart, who has harmed, had this to say.

F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” I think you can take that sentiment and apply it to relationships – the test of a great relationship is the ability to hold the good done and the pain caused in your heart at the same time and still retain the ability to love. For some of us who knew Bodie, this is our truth. Bodie wasn’t a perfect man. He’d have been the first to tell you that. And in his struggles, he, like all of us, hurt those he loved. It would be easy to look at Bodie’s life and come to the conclusion that the good vastly outweighs the bad. The influence that Bodie had on our lives, his teachings in relationships with each other and with Christ – and the residual effect that influence will continue to have as we build our families and teach our kids – it’s immeasurable. But he would also demand honesty in relationships, and even though the good he did will live on into perpetuity, so will the pain. The two can coexist, and must. The path to forgiveness cannot begin in the absence of the transgression. And it is my hope, that even though Bodie is no longer here with us on Earth, those of us that didn’t have the opportunity to reconcile with him, yet desire to forgive the cause of that pain, will find the means and the peace with which to do so.

Tyson does a good job of being a “Speaker for the dead.”

[mariacallous]

ELBASAN, Albania — Isaac Herzog’s visit to Albania Thursday marked the first time an Israeli leader set foot in the only European country that ended World War II with more Jews than it started with.

Albania’s role in saving Jews during the Holocaust was a key theme of the Israeli president’s brief visit, which included a ceremony at the Holocaust memorial in Tirana as well as meetings with descendants of some of the 75 Muslims, Catholics and Orthodox Christians listed by Israel’s Yad Vashem as Righteous Gentiles — those who risked their lives to save Jews from deportation to Nazi death camps following Germany’s occupation of Albania in September 1943.

“Albanians hid Jews without regard to where they came from, or whether they were rich or poor,” Petrit Zorba, head of the Albanian-Israeli Friendship Association, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in Elbasan, a small city about one hour’s drive south of the capital Tirana.

Zorba estimated that up to 3,000 foreign Jews found refuge in Albania during World War II. “Only 100 meters from here lived the Kurmaku family, one of the families that protected Jewish people,” he said. “These houses have lately become tourist attractions visited by Israelis and others.”

Yet youths in this once-Marxist nation of 2.6 million know nearly nothing of that unique legacy, according to Florenca Stafa, director of the Albanian and Balkan Research Center at the University of Elbasan, Albania’s largest and oldest teaching college. 

“During communism, nobody spoke about the Holocaust. The topic was never taught in school,” said Stafa, 41, whose father was jailed for two years in the late 1960s simply for complaining there was no bread to eat. “Even after the regime collapsed, in the 1990s, it was still an unknown concept. So for me, as a professor, it’s important for us to do something about this.”

To that end, Stafa helped organize a conference for 25 teachers last week in Elbasan. The five-day event was co-sponsored by the Albanian History Teachers Association and The Olga Lengyel Institute, or TOLI, a New York-based nonprofit that promotes Holocaust education throughout the United States and Europe.

Oana Nestian-Sandu , TOLI’s international program director, said Albania is the 14th country outside the U.S. to host a TOLI seminar for teachers since 2012, and the only one among the 14 where antisemitism — rampant across much of Eastern Europe — has hardly been an issue.

“Because we are educators, we have to study what’s the best way to present this immense topic to our students,” she explained. “For them, it’s something that happened almost 100 years ago. But research has shown that through diaries, students can connect, and they become not only interested in it but committed to learning more — even in their free time — and be inspired by it.”

Albana Ndoja, 47, is a longtime history teacher and vice-director of the Kolë Idromeno High School in Shködra, a predominantly Catholic city. She first heard about the Shoah during a 2016 week-long group visit to Yad Vashem that was organized by Albania’s Ministry of Culture.

“We taught about World War II and the ancient world, but never about the Holocaust,” said Ndoja, a Muslim. She noted that in her hometown, the family of Agostin and Gysepina Çiftja sheltered a Jewish family for one year, even though their house was next to a Nazi garrison.

“The bishops of Shködra gave them Catholic identities, but they never tried to convert them. After a year, they got new passports and helped them go to Macedonia. Along with my students, I’m trying to gather all the histories of families in our city who did this,” she said, adding that “if we don’t learn from the past, we cannot learn how to protect ourselves in the future.”

Klodeta Cane, an Albanian Jew and Holocaust educator, said Adolf Hitler’s autobiography, “Mein Kampf,” has enjoyed strong sales in Albania of late. When she recently discovered a copy of the notoriously antisemitic book in the car of a municipal official in Vlora and asked him about it, the official responded: “We were just curious and wanted to read it.”

Cane added that Hitler exploited Germany’s economic devastation following the First World War to scapegoat Jews. She worries that sentiment could also shift in the Balkans, where “the radicalization of Islam is growing, and organizations are paying money to buy their souls” — that is, worshippers are offered cash incentives to attend mosques.

Gadi Luzzetto-Voghuera, director of Italy’s Fondazione Centro di Documentazione Ebraica Contemporanea, agrees with that assessment—especially after Oct. 7 and the dramatic rise in anti-Zionist and pro-Hamas sentiments throughout the West, and among intellectuals. 

Some of the speakers and participants cited frequent and harsh criticism of Israel’s war in Gaza in the Albanian media.

“Antisemitism is not an important issue for Albanian society, but it is important politically for the entire world, especially in Europe,” said Luzzetto-Voghuera, a speaker at the Elbasan event. “It’s being used as a political tool, even in countries like Albania where few Jews live.”

Elda Dermyshi, 54, has been teaching high-school history in Elbasan for 32 years. She said the Holocaust has recently become “a very sensitive issue” in Albania due to the conflict in Gaza.

“Everyone on TV is talking about this war and they connect it to the Holocaust and antisemitism. Back then, it was the Jews who were persecuted. Now the Jews themselves are accused of being the persecutors,” Dermyshi said, declining to discuss her own views. “What I understand from this conference is that we must treat the Holocaust as a multidimensional issue strongly related to human rights and cultural diversity, to refuse to accept stereotypes, and to practice tolerance.”

Today, the formerly Marxist dictatorship is home to perhaps 60 Jews—nearly all of them in Tirana—though its government is quite pro-Israel. Prime Minister Edi Rama, who met with Herzog during his visit, is currently overseeing the construction of two museums honoring Jewish history and Albania’s wartime rescue of Jews: one in Tirana, and the other in Vlora.

Alket Shehaj, 39, was one of the few male attendees at the TOLI conference. A middle-school history and geography teacher from the southern town of Fier, Shehaj acknowledged the rise of violent extremism in the Balkans but said education and a stable family life can counter that.

“Albanians have shown throughout history that we are a nation which embraces values and traditions, and we’ve always sought peaceful relations with our neighbors,” Shehaj said. “We have heard about the Holocaust since we were little. This is a subject we need to study in depth.”

Each teacher attending the TOLI conference received three books: “Flower of Vlora: Growing Up Jewish in Communist Albania,” an autobiography by retired Florida dentist Anna Kohen; an Albanian translation of “The Diary of Anne Frank” and “Izraelitët në Shqipëri” (“Jews in Albania”) by Josef Jakoel. 

Felicita Jakoel is the daughter of Josef Jakoel, the patriarch of what was then a 300-member Jewish community that emigrated en masse to Israel in 1991 after the fall of communism.

“My father was worried that because we were living in a closed country, it would be forgotten that a Jewish community once thrived here. He loved history, he was an economist, and he spoke many languages, so it was his moral duty to write the history of Jews in Albania,” she said.

Jakoel, who has lived in Israel since 1991, told teachers that the Jewish presence in Albania dates back 2,000 years — as evidenced by the ruins of an ancient synagogue in Saranda, along the country’s Adriatic coast near the Greek border. Jews also flourished in Berat and Elbasan, but enjoyed their strongest presence in Vlora, where a merchant class thrived until the Italian occupation in 1939. 

Yet the Albanian people’s determination to hide Jews from the Nazis at enormous personal risk paid off. By the war’s end, the Nazis had killed only one Albanian family out of a native Jewish population of 300 and perhaps thousands of refugees from neighboring countries. In contrast, of the 2,000 or so prewar Jews who lived on the Greek island of Corfu—just off Albania’s coast—only 187 survived. The rest were all deported to Auschwitz.

‘What happened here in Albania didn’t happen in any other country in Europe,” said Jakoel, 67. “In Denmark, Danish Jews were saved. But in Albania, so were Jews who came from other countries. This is a very important topic to be integrated in schools. We should teach new generations about what we did during the Holocaust.”

TOLI’s Nestian-Sandu said she hopes to make the seminar an annual event in this country, and next year to include Albanian-speaking teachers from neighboring Kosovo as well.

“It’s not enough just to tell the story of these wonderful people who saved so many Jews,” she said. “It’s equally important to inspire students to be active citizens and help those around them.”