#vam small

[radiovour]

kinda dig the--

chains as a physical representation of soul ownership... also kinda hate it so much

[junkdrawerfics]

Hot Head

Request: Could you write something about him and a hot headed reader who has no time for anyone's BS? Maybe reader is friends with the wolves and gets both sides in line when it comes to talking about each other, none of them dares to make rude comments about each other in front of you, you may be human but you can be low key scary when angry

Words: 1332

Warnings: None really, Paul getting smacked down verbally, me not knowing how to right someone being scary or mean.

---

If there is one thing the wolves and vampires agree on, it is to not mess with you. Not after the incident with Paul.

You grew up in Forks, a close friend to the Blacks and Clearwaters, but also the Swans. You, Jacob, and Bella would play together in the forest as kids, making mudpies and pretending to be adventurers. You were always the brave one back then, the loud one, the first one to punch someone if they picked on Bella when her parents split up.

You still are that one. The hot head.

When the Cullens came to town, you, like everyone, were attracted to the strange, other than aura surrounding them. Unlike everyone else though, you were stubborn enough to befriend them. You couldn’t help but gravitate towards Jasper, with his quiet, gentlemanly charm.

Apparently he was equally drawn to your spit-fire, bold spirit. He always says the day he decided to “court” you was the day you tore someone a new one in the hall for spreading rumors about his family. Your anger was like a fire, destructive and all-consuming, but to him, it was warmth and light, sparked from how much you care for your friends.

Jasper evened you out in ways you never thought someone could. He could bring you down from any ledge with a single touch, sometimes a single look. Things felt softer around him, you felt softer around him.

Even after learning about the Cullens being vampires and some of the Quileutes being wolves, you never felt pressured to choose a side. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe foolishness. But you kept a foot in both worlds, unwilling to give up on the friendships you had all your life.

That being said, you couldn’t tolerate the animosity between the two groups, especially from the wolves.

“I can’t believe we have to work with the leeches.”

It’s quiet, you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t standing with Jacob, talking about the battle plan Jasper has come up with. Everything felt like it was going okay. The Cullens and the Pack had made a temporary pact to protect Bella, and you thought they were all okay with it.

Your brow furrows as you look over to where Paul and Jared stand off to the side with a very confused looking Seth. The smaller boy meets your gaze, dark eyes wide. You bite down a small spark of anger.

It’s Paul, you remind yourself. He’s never happy. All bark, no bite. It’s fine.

“You never know what kind of accidents will happen in the heat of battle, though.”

It’s like being doused in lighter fluid. Anger turns to rage. Rage into a burning urge to cause the shapeshifter ungodly amounts of pain.

Not fine. Definitely not fine.

“(Y/n)...” Jacob starts, discomfort clear in his tone. 

He heard it. They all heard it. And Paul has the nerve to wear a smirk like he’s proud of his poorly veiled threat. 

Your jaw aches from how hard you grind your teeth.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you growl, body surging forward, only to be stopped by a cool hand on your arm.

You flip, eyes meeting with a pair of calm gold ones. Jasper holds on to you gently, grip loose, thumb resting over your racing pulse. He must have crossed the clearing when he sensed your rising anger. He perks a brow at you, and for a brief moment, you feel the fire dull in your veins. 

A chance to think clearly.

You take a deep breath, frustration still crackling in your lungs.

You’ve had enough. Enough of the snide comments, the ugly whispers, the looks. You’ve had enough of all of it. It’s ridiculous that they can’t just get along.

“Let go of me, Jas,” you murmur, giving him a steady look.

The vampire nods, letting you go without hesitation, and takes a few steps back. Good. You really don’t want him getting in the middle of this.

You turn back to the small group of wolves, teeth practically barred as you bark out sharply, “Hey, Lahote!”

All eyes turn towards you as you stalk up to the burly man. Paul eyes you warily, the tension in the clearing rising as you come toe to toe with him. You may only be human, but even the wolves can sense the anger boiling the air around you. The sun might as well not be out with how dark the clouds hanging over your head are.

“What, (L/n)?” He has the gaul to sound irritated.

As if he has any right.

“You want to run that by me again?” You sneer, and you can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction when he flinches minutely. “Accidents happen, huh? Is that what you said?”

“Well-”

“Shut it,” you snap, and his smile falters, lips pulling into a tight line. “Don’t make this worse by talking before you think, like you always do. You’d think the wolf brain would shift back with you, but I guess not! And you know, I’ve been working so hard to make you thick-headed idiots - not you Seth - see how ignorant you’re being. You’ve all been nothing but horrible to the Cullens!” Your scathing glare travels over the pack, and they all shift uncomfortably. “They have done nothing to deserve it. At least they try to be respectful, and they would never, never threaten one of you.” Your eyes land back on Paul, and the giant man shrinks back. “So why do you think it’s okay, huh?”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even meet your gaze. It’s like looking at a completely different person from the usually aggressive, quick to anger wolf. You can’t help but scoff.

“Yah, that’s what I thought. Grow up, Paul. I’m sick of you acting like a spoiled kid who gets away with whatever he wants. I expect better from Sam’s third in command. So why don’t you try to actually focus on your role for once so your idiotic ideas don’t get one of your packmates killed?”

By the end of your rant, your hands are practically shaking as you cross your arms over your heaving chest. It’s the only way you can stop yourself from hitting him, which wouldn’t do anything except make you feel better. 

It does help that Paul looks thoroughly kicked. His ears are tinged red, and he looks so, so angry, but also embarrassed as he just scowls at the ground. Sometimes a verbal beating is just as satisfying, this being one of those times. That done, you turn your attention to Sam. The alpha straightens up, apprehension flickering across his face.

“I better not hear anything like this again,” you order, “If you can’t at least be decent, don’t expect me to hold back. I have plenty to say, some of which I think the elders would be more than interested to hear about. Like-”

“I understand,” Sam quickly cuts you off, dark eyes narrowing as you smile all too smugly. Perks of growing up with them and knowing a lot of their secrets. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

With a satisfied nod, you feel your anger recede. It falls away just as easily as it appeared, leaving you almost unnervingly calm as you trot back to Jasper’s side. The blond watches you, eyes gleaming with pride.

“You know we can handle ourselves right?” He murmurs, amusement slanting his lips as he slips an arm around your shoulders. “Have been for a hundred years.”

You sigh and lean into him, “I know, but that doesn’t mean I need to stand by and watch them act like that. I’d do the same thing if any of you said something like that about them!”

“I’m sure, darlin’.”

“Are you teasing me?” You glare at him playfully.

His smile pulls just a smidge wider. “Of course not, ma’am.”

“I swear to God, Jasper-!”

---

I literally had no idea how to end this so I hope this works. I hope you enjoyed it! Love y'all, feels good to be writing again!

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

5. 𝓕𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓪𝓽𝓱

The estate gave off an aura of cold, darkness, and grandeur. Its many rooms and labyrinth-like pathways created an intricate and intimidating structure. The ground floor, beyond the imposing entry hall, boasted a dining room, a resplendent ballroom, lavish bathrooms, and the kitchen, which was connected to the quarters where the servants resided. On the second floor, there was a grand living room, and the master bedroom, along with an opulent bathroom and a study, was adjacent to (Y/n)'s room, which also had its own bathroom. Guest bedrooms adorned the opposite side of the second floor. The estate was equipped with a grand library, another ballroom that opened onto a balcony overlooking the entrance, more bathrooms, and a small reception room. An unassuming door on the ground floor led to a cellar.

The mansion was encircled by imposing fences and gates that remained perpetually closed, effectively isolating it from the outside world. By the same logic, it kept her in. The verdant gardens that stretched around the estate, bathed in the moonlight, held an eerie beauty. A nearby stable housed a few horses.

(Y/n) had to concede that the estate was undeniably magnificent, but her nocturnal existence within its gloomy halls only served to accentuate its gothic allure. It was a place of solitude and coldness, where even the servants, who were, like her, human, would cast fearful glances her way. Their wary gazes made her feel even more isolated. She often wondered what compelled them to stay in a household where they had at least some inkling of the master's unnatural nature. Yet, they remained, and they didn't seem to like it. They didn’t seem to like her either. Anyone capable of catching this monster’s attention must be as dang as him in their mind. She could not muster any form of bitterness towards them, since she understood their resonance.

It took her a while to get accustomed to her new sleep schedule. Sleeping in the day and living throughout the night was certainly not something she was used to. She had not glimpsed the light of day in weeks, as the heavy curtains remained perpetually drawn. She spent her nights trying to stave off the loneliness that haunted her. The absence of anyone her age to converse with was not entirely novel, but during her life with her parents, there had been opportunities to socialize when they ventured into town to sell their harvested produce.

She clenched her jaw and fought back tears, resolute in her decision not to cry. Mourning her parents would serve no purpose, and their murderer would respond to her grief with cold indifference. In this foreboding place, no one would offer her solace. No one would care.

The vampire continued to spend a significant amount of time with her. Their interactions were not always filled with conversation; sometimes, they simply coexisted in silence, as he engrossed himself in reading while she sought to fill the empty hours with activities. Her loathing for him remained unwavering, and resentment festered within her, burning brightly. Yet, her loneliness drove her to accept the limited interaction he offered. The girl took whatever she could get.

Tonight was one such instance. They sat in the study, where the vampire occupied a red velvet armchair, engrossed in a book. (Y/n) reclined on a plush sofa of the same pattern, her fingers idly fidgeting with a porcelain doll, arranging and rearranging its dress. It didn't really interest her much, but it helped to keep her occupied.

As she gazed upon the doll’s neck, the sudden recollection of that fateful night prompted (Y/n) to place her hand on her own neck, as if searching for a mark that should have been there but never was. She couldn't fathom how she had managed to forget that detail. The memory returned vividly now – the bite, the paralyzing sensation, the drowsiness that followed. She knew she wasn't a vampire; her pulse still throbbed, and her canines were just as they had always been.

"You bit me," she voiced her realization, her hand still lingering on her neck, even though she knew the wound was no longer there.

The vampire, his attention momentarily diverted from his book, nonchalantly acknowledged, "I did."

A surge of curiosity and confusion led (Y/n) to question further. "I'm not a vampire," she stated, running her tongue over her normal-sized canines. Her heart continued to beat steadily, and there was no insatiable thirst for blood. "How?"

He put the book down, seemingly willing to indulge her curiosity. "Becoming a vampire isn't a random occurrence, doll," he explained patiently. "The process begins with the vampire drinking the blood of a human, allowing the venom from the bite to spread through the mortal's body. The human must then die shortly after from the poison from the bite. They will eventually return to life, but to complete the transformation, they must drink the blood of their sire. And all of this must occur during a Blood Moon."

She tensed upon hearing about the Blood Moon. "What's a Blood Moon?" (Y/n) inquired, a hint of fear in her voice. She needed to understand the vampire's plans for her and how to avoid them.

"It's a phenomenon that occurs only once every three months," he explained. "During a Blood Moon, the moon takes on a red hue, which not only strengthens a vampire's powers but also turns their bite venomous, capable of transforming others. The paralysis and drowsiness you felt on the night I brought you home were the effects of a typical vampire's bite when its powers aren’t strengthened by the moon."

Her face displayed her discomfort as she recalled the night she had felt powerless and vulnerable, completely at the mercy of a killer. She couldn't hide her unease any longer and sought further clarification. "And is the ice power something common among vampires?" She remembered the eerie sight of ice forming on the vampire's hands.

"Each vampire possesses a unique gift," he replied cryptically. To illustrate, he picked up a glass of water from the table beside her. As he touched it, the water gradually transformed into ice, right before her eyes. Her expression shifted from unease to genuine astonishment. "You will have one too."

Her smile dropped, fear settling in once again. She had allowed herself to forget about that part for a fraction of a second. She chastised herself mentally for that mistake. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down here.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key. 

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding. 

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone. 

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him. 

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

“Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him. 

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls. 

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright. 

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van. 

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows. 

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg. 

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth. 

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away. 

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.” 

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?” 

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard. 

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

[melabea]

Pyrumano

(pt: Pyrumano /end pt)

(ids: 2 rectangular flags with 7 equally-sized horizontal lines. colors in this order from top to bottom are dark brown, brown, light brown, tan, light brown, brown, and dark brown. in the center of the first flag is a white circle with a dark brown symbol in it. the symbol is a diamond with a small circle centered vertically and above where it would be if it was centered horizontally. below the circle is a vertical line with a horizontal line below where it would be if it was centered inside the diamond. from the horizontal line is half of a pill-shaped oval, the other side connected to the diamond. /end ids)

Pyrumano; a form of nonhuman tertiary attraction (Alteraffectis) that describes how a vampire feels towards a human.

etymology; (vam)pyr(e), (h)umano

for anon!

tagging; @radiomogai, @thecoffeecrew404, @kiruliom, @alteraffectis

[persephone-s-moon]

Asian Lost Boys Personal Names!

Personal names tend to vary from culture to culture in terms of usage, but essentially it's someones "Asian name" as opposed to their English name. They're typically used by family members and, on occasion, very close friends because (in my experience) using them is intimate. The characters will still HAVE their English names, but The Lost Boys and family members (the Emersons and the Frogs) will Mostly refer to each other by their personal names.

DISCLAIMER: I'm Taiwanese, therefore I'm more savvy to East Asian cultures, particularly Chinese and Japanese. If anyone who is more knowledgeable about Filipino, Hmong, Thai, Indian, or Vietnamese cultures sees something they want to critique/has more culturally accurate suggestions, I encourage messages/comments/replies!

David: Huang Zhao-Yi

Culture: Taiwanese, of Chinese descent Loose Pronunciation: Hw-ah-ng Sh-ow-yee Surname: Huang, meaning "yellow, to fall through" Personal name: Zhao-Yi, Zhao meaning "bright, luminous" and Yi meaning "happy, joyful, harmony" Notes: I was originally going to name David "Hou Yi" after a mythological Chinese archer because OG Hou Yi destroys 9/10 of the original suns (long story) and there's a version where he and his wife Chang'e become immortal/gods, but there are so many different versions of the story that I decided against it. I also decided that I wanted him to be a Farm Boy™ and naming him after a god seemed a little strange imo.

Paul: Paolo FACUNDO LIWANAG

Culture: Filipino Loose Pronunciation: Pow-low FAK-OON-DO LEE-WAN-AG Personal name: Paolo, meaning "small" Surnames: FACUNDO meaning "talkative", LIWANAG meaning "light" Notes: A lot of Filipino names are Spanish or Italian with biblical roots because of colonization in the 1500s, so I wanted to keep his personal name semi-similar to his English name since it was already biblical. Honestly I could've left it as "Paul" but what's the fun in that? I'm not too sold on his surnames so they might change later and I may try to find a Tagalog name instead for his personal name, we'll see.

Marko: YANG Vam Meej

Culture: White Hmong, from Laos Loose Pronunciation: YANG Va Mae Clan name: YANG, associated with the ram and bear Personal name: Vam Meej, meaning "to prosper, succeed" Notes: Hmong names in particular are a Struggle for me since most of the Hmong people I know are second generation like me and either don't really know their personal names or we're not close enough for me to ask. I am familiar with the concept of clan names though. Marko's name is definitely subject to change in the future (I might pick a clan name more associated with birds just for fun who knows).

Dwayne: Khemkhaeng LUANG

Culture: Thai Loose Pronunciation: Kehm-key-ng LOO-ANG Personal name: Khemkhaeng, meaning "strong" Old personal name: Kasem, meaning "happiness, pure joy" Surname: LUANG, meaning "royal, venerable" Notes: It's common for Thai people to change their names after something either significant or bad happens to them, hence Kasem. I'm only making note of it to alleviate confusion in the event that I decide to do some stuff regarding backstories, no one will refer to him as Kasem otherwise. Also, surnames are still relatively new to Thailand and they were only introduced in the 20th century, so Dwayne gets a shorter surname in comparison to modern Thai surnames (which are required to be unique, hence the longer modern surnames) since I have him and the other boys being born in the 1880s.

Star: Ruchika Chawla

Culture: Indian Loose Pronunciation: Roo-chee-ka Chow-la Personal name: Ruchika, meaning "shining, beautiful, desirous, brilliance" Surname: Chawla, meaning "rice" Notes: I found the name Ruchika and immediately thought of Star ngl, I didn't even consider other names for her. It was like love at first sight. I think a lot of stuff with Star just clicked when I was doing research for her name and design, it just suited her so well. I did have her surname written down wrong in my personal notes so I'm glad I didn't post her character sheet immediately lmao

Laddie: Nino HALILI DEL ROSARIO

Culture: Filipino Loose Pronunciation: Nee-no HA-LEE-LEE DAY ROSE-ARI-O Personal name: Nino, meaning "little boy" Surname: HALILI meaning "successor", DEL ROSARIO meaing "of the rosary" Notes: I went so back and forth on his surnames it's not even funny, but I think I'm happier with Laddie's surnames in comparison to Paul's. "Nino" felt really obvious and clicked really well just like Star's name did, though I did consider a few other names that I don't have written down anywhere. Nino was just superior because he's simply a little guy.

Michael: EMERSON Manh Tien

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: EMERSON Man Tee-en Surname: EMERSON, inherited from white father Middle name: Manh, meaning "first-born" Personal name: Tien, meaning "fairy, celestial being" Notes: I'll be honest, the main contibuting factor behind Michael's personal name was how he was almost named "Moonbeam" during his mom's hippie phase. I have this idea where their dad was white and insisted on using exclusively their English names, and Michael wouldn't initially like his personal name because it feels girly to him anyway, but he'd grow to cherish his name and culture after meeting the lost boys <3

Sam: EMERSON Trong Binh

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: EMERSON Ch-ung Bin Surname: EMERSON, inherited by white father Middle name: Trong, meaning "second-born" Personal name: Binh, meaning "peaceful" Notes: I think overall for the Emerson family I was most concerned with meanings, which wasn't necessarily the case for the boys. Sam is the most peaceful in the sense that he discouraged the Frog brothers from killing Marko, even though he failed. Like Michael, I think his personal name is something that he grows into when he starts making friends, but would use his English name when first coming to Santa Carla.

Lucy: VINH Lan Huong

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: VIN Surname: VINH, meaning "glory" Middle name: Lan, meaning "orchid" Personal name: Huong, meaning "pink rose" Notes: Naming Lucy after flowers just felt right. Let it be known that I have serious beef with hippies, but I feel like she still had a well-intentioned hippie phase and this just adds to it. In Vietnamese culture, women don't change their surnames after marriage (as far as I'm aware) which I think would be a contributing factor in her divorce with her white all-American husband.

Grandpa: VINH Mac Dieu

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: VIN Mac Dee-oo Surname: VINH, meaning "glory" Middle name: Mac, meaning "nothing, nonexistent" Personal name: Dieu, meaning "mysterious, subtle" Notes: Grandpa! Needed! A! Name! He doesn't have one in the original! I'm basically saying he's not subtle about his knowledge of vampires and he's not trying to be subtle, it's just that no one ever asked. I think I tried to pick older-sounding names for him but it's been a little while since I picked these and I don't remember if I'm honest.

Edgar: Kaeru Matsuo

Culture: Japanese Loose Pronunciation: Keh-roo Mat-soo-oh Surname: Kaeru, meaning "frog" Personal name: Matsuo, meaning "pine tree, life" Notes: I named the Frog brothers after the famous Japanese poet Matsuo Basho because their English names remind me of Edgar Allan Poe, so I thought it'd be kind of funny. Matsuo is the surname of the poet, but I felt that Matsuo suited Edgar more than Alan. The surname I picked for the Frogs was obvious, I don't think anything else other than some variation of "frog" would've worked.

Alan: Kaeru Basho

Culture: Japanese Loose Pronunciation: Keh-roo Ba-show Surname: Kaeru, meaning "frog" Personal name: Basho, meaning "banana tree" Notes: Alan got the pen name of Matsuo Basho, who also went by "Sobo" and "Tose". I debated on giving him Matsuo's true given name, which is Kinsaku meaning "to be happy" but Matsuo Basho is better known as Basho and it's much funnier for this very serious 15-16 year old to be named "banana tree".

Sorry if the formatting is weird, I'm trying to make it as reader friendly as possible on account of my own dyslexia. Please let me know if the blocks of text blend in with each other too much lmao

[sanctaignorantia]

A few things I've been thinking about and find subtle links to Death Stranding

Chakras and Death Stranding

This text has content that I took from a book of Reiki handouts that my mother has, so the view of Chakras here is from the viewpoint of Reiki practice.

Chakras are round energy centers and in the East they are seen as whirlpools of energy, little cones (funnels) of spinning energy. They are large, shiny and translucent and, in normal human beings, have a diameter of five to ten centimeters, reaching 20 centimeters in diameter in spiritually developed people.

The size of the Chakras varies according to our energy and spiritual development and can vary according to the individual's energy (positive or negative energy). And each Chakra resonates with a color that derives from its vibration frequency. Each one vibrates with a sound or mantra that corresponds to a musical note and also relates to a natural element: earth, water, fire, air and ether.

In the Oriental view, each Chakra is represented by petals like flowers, depending on the complexity of each one. Ancient writings mention that we have up to 88,000 Chakras throughout our bodies, in other words, we have countless energetically sensitive points, but most of them play a secondary role.

But let's just talk about the 7 main Chakras through which the human aura is connected.

source

The Chakras are responsible for the energy flow in the human body and their main function is to absorb prana, which is the energy coming from the Sun, metabolize it, feed our aura and, finally, emit energy to the outside.

Knowing this, let's talk about Death Stranding, we know that Sam, when he dies in his baby phase, is repatriated by Amelie in his Beach. Amélie "seals" Sam's body with a mark and brings him back to life, causing Sam to gain a peculiar scar and live around without a navel. We're talking about the Umbilical/Sacral Chakra here, and according to the Reiki view this is the second Chakra.

We're going to talk about the other two Chakras that, for me, were also "affected" by the repatriate/shot mark, but let's start with the Umbilical Chakra first.

Name: Svadhishthana Location: Navel area Color: Orange Auric body: Emotional Element: Water Music note: D Mantra: Vam Number of petals: 6

This chakra is for the propagation of the species, in other words, reproduction. Its correct activity makes us love life. It is the Chakra that concentrates the qualities that have to do with sexuality, curiosity, the creative search for material pleasure, a taste for beautiful things, art, emotions and relationships with other people. This chakra is the seat of fears, ghosts and negative fantasies linked to sexuality and behavior towards another sex. If it malfunctions, it can turn life into a small personal "hell" which ends up being reflected in the people we live with and relate to.

Blockages in this Chakra usually result in physical symptoms such as illnesses related to body fluids (larynx, lymph, saliva, bile). Blockages in the sexual center often result in mental symptoms such as fear of physical proximity and disgust for the body, a mania for cleanliness, incomprehension, a mind that is too focused on reason, an excessive emphasis on impulsive feelings, rhythmic disorders, isolation, frigidity, impotence, lack of sexual appetite, fear of falling.

This Chakra together with the first are important and if they function incorrectly the other Chakras won't be able to function properly either.

I could say that due to the size of the damage caused by the shot, not only the Umbilical/Sacral Chakra was affected, but also the Base Chakra(#1) and the Solar Plexus(#2), because all three are located exactly in the center of our body's balance.

So let's look at a basic summary of the other two Chakras (first and third) to complete the analysis.

-> Basic Chakra (first)

Name: Muladhara Location: Base of the spine Colors: Red and black Auric body: Etheric and physical Element: Earth Musical note: C Mantra: Lam Number of petals: 4

It lies between the anus and the sexual organs, on the line of the pelvic girdle. This chakra is open downwards and represents the human being's connection with planet Earth, with the material and physical world. It is linked to our earthly existence, our survival. The more open and elevated this Chakra is, the higher our physical energy (disposition) will be.

-> Solar Plexus Chakra (third)

Name: Manipura Location: Mouth of stomach Color: Yellow Auric body: Mental Element: Fire Musical note: E Mantra: Ram Number of petals: 10

It represents the personality and concentrates the qualities of the rational and personal mind, vitality, the will to know and learn, the action of power, the desire to live, communicate and participate. It is the point of connection with other people. This Chakra is the one most closely related to our ego and therefore absorbs a lot of energy from the first two Chakras.

In summary, I find it interesting how I could find a little sense in the location of the Chakras in relation to Sam's injury, and in relation to what the mark of the repatriate represents for him. I don't know if Kojima did this consciously, but there is something that makes sense, for sure.

The center of the human body (CORE)

One of the funniest things for me was realizing that they chose Sam, a guy who doesn't have his "center" complete because of a brand. In other words, metaphorically speaking, Sam has no "balance" at all because his center has been "affected", and yet he is the Man Who Delivers, the guy who stacks things and needs to have good balance and core strength to do what he does.

How to "close the body" to negative energy

In my religion we say that if you want to go somewhere or meet someone and you want to protect yourself from any negative energy that the place or someone might inflict on you, you just have to wear an adhesive plaster on your navel, so this symbolic action will protect you from negative energies, because that's where we receive and donate energy, so it's an open field. There is the possibility of something or someone sucking this energy from us consciously or unconsciously, just as we can lose this energy unconsciously too.

This doesn't literally mean having a closed body, because the expression can mean another type of ritual that leads us to literally close the body, something much more complex than just "covering the navel", but technically it can be said that this is closing a door to things that can affect us.

[sam-oberg]

Small rant about the program I used bellow👇

So I've sort of become obsessed with VAM(virt-a-mate) which is an AMASING program! Sure, it's designed to make nsfw vr stuff but I bought it because it's just so easy to make and pose characters because it's sort of where they are half ragdoll and have very realistic movements and follow animations just loosely enough that it's not un realistic and it has a comunity that makes a lot of free stuff and plugins and lots of other stuff. I only made this to test it out a lill, and edited it a little in krita after.

I love this program and the porn is just a bonus on top lol

They are working on VAM2 and they might be realeasing a sfw version of the program because it's been so highly requested so I'm not alone in my love for it.

[themculibrary]

Victorian Masterlist

A Clockwork Heart (ao3) - aprettystrangeao3 tony/stephen T, 18k

Summary: Doctor Stephen Strange, expert physician and rumored miracle-worker, just wants to eat his poorly-made biscuits and do his research in his cozy library in his empty home in the grey outskirts of Victorian New York. But his life suddenly changes, for better or worse, when a missing man arrives half-dead at his doorstep. What will he manage to uncover about his newest patient-- and what could he uncover about himself in the process?

A King for Christmas (ao3) - iam93percentstardust steve/tony E, 101k

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

a white demon love song (ao3) - officecowboyy loki/mobius E, 12k

Summary: He should have killed him when he had the chance, should have taken that sweet-smelling blood for himself and rid the world of another foolhardy man thinking himself strong enough to kill a god.

BLACKOUT (ao3) - SalamanderInk loki/tony E, 77k

Summary: There's a moment in everyone's life, a turning point where everything that could be and everything that should be takes shape and becomes real.

For Prince Loki of Jotunheim, with a heart cursed to ice, that moment comes when he first meets Lord Anthony Stark of Midgard.

Collars of Ardor (ao3) - The_Nerd_Alert steve/bucky, peggy/angie, past bucky/alexander E, 135k

Summary: It is 1880 in London, and Captain Steve Rogers seems to be the ONLY man in the world who has not found his Consort yet. It is a global practice, to own a Consort before the age of 30, or risk paying Taxes into the Consort Union. But... Steve just has not found his One yet. If he is to have a Pet for life, he wants his to be perfect. So after a disheartening birthday party, and urging from his wife Peggy, Steve sets out to spend the evening alone... What he did not expect was to stumble upon his One and fall head over heels in love with the boy. Now, if only he could melt that Winter heart of Buchanan's and make him his...

Copper and Magic (ao3) - Saintduma loki/tony E, 11k

Summary: Tony Stark is an American in London, looking for an interesting companion for the night. When he finds a High Fey, fate takes him on a long and very unexpected ride...

Fear on Whitechapel (ao3) - Shinigami24 steve/bucky, jane/thor E, 10k

Summary: As the Victorian era continues, omegas that work the streets are hunted by a madman without empathy or fear. Bucky and Steve try to survive while putting an end to the rampage.

Forbidden by Time (ao3) - MaxxJacks (wcnderluster) steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: When Tony stormed out into the cold after an argument with his father, there was only one place to get out of the cold.

In the Dead of Night (ao3) - theicesculpture loki/tony T, 6k

Summary: The year is 1887 and Anthony Edward Stark is determined to get to know the guest neighbouring his hotel room. That guest also happens to be a vampire.

I only meant to stay a while (ao3) - ebeatrice loki/mobius G, 1k

Summary: “I thought we might share a dance,” says Loki.

Or, Mobius chases Loki down to Victorian London. His favorite variant has no intention of being caught, but he's not against spending some time with the TVA agent before running away.

Love Me Tender Like What Keeps You Well (ao3) - thiccbuckybarnes steve/bucky E, 24k

Summary: The estate was full to the brim with giggling ladies in tailored dresses and gentlemen in dress shirts and narrow jackets with velvet collars. The ballroom was lively with chatter, music, and dance, and the rest of his house had some form of merriment and gossip in one corner or another. - - Steve Rogers, an alpha, widow, retired army captain, and master of the Allaheim estate, is happy to welcome new neighbors next to his manor in his pleasant little village of York. He hopes to gain new friends to brighten up his lonely life, and ends up getting much more than he bargained for when he meets the son of his new neighbor, James.

Masquerade (ao3) - crankyfractal (upquarkAO3), sirsable steve/bucky E, 9k

Summary: Lord Bucky Barnes is tired of the dull repetition of the London social season. Every year, it's political games and stuffy suits and niceties so stiff it makes his teeth hurt. But this year is different. This year, he runs into a handsome stranger at a masked ball, and there's a chemistry there that neither can deny. Finally, some excitement in his life.

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts (ao3) - Kellyscams steve/bucky, peggy/gabe, clint/natasha, pepper/tony, past bucky/brock M, 354k

Summary: When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society's Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky's family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn't only come with rewards, it also comes with certain...expectations and losses--some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.

Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband...

On Ceremony (ao3) - CapandCarter T, 108k

Summary: In retrospect it was foolish of Peggy to anger the mayor’s son in such a personal fashion, however, she’d had no premonition of the death of one of the Unification Couple

And how that death would change her life forever.

——-

OR

Peggy is forced into a marriage she doesn’t want with a man she has no intention of loving.

Plot, enemies to lovers, angst, and fluff ensues.

reason and love keep little company (ao3) - thelilacfield wanda/vision T, 5k

Summary: She’s surrounded by rich men, men who could give her everything she could ever want, set her up comfortably in a manor to carry their children. Men she doesn’t want.

She could never love them half as much as she loves a poor gardener with the sky in his eyes and dirt beneath his nails.

Steady as the Stars (ao3) - ragnorakdad loki/steve, past loki/grandmaster, past jane/thor, implied thor/bruce T, 14k

Summary: The Social Season of 1890 has just begun, and Loki already despises every minute of it. At the first event that Thor drags him along to, Loki does not get along with one of the other patrons in the slightest. However, he soon finds out that this man, Steve Rogers, has moved around the corner from the Odinson villa.

Tally-Ho (ao3) - orphan_account loki/sif T, 2k

Summary: Sif was never one to really enjoy these sort of gatherings, none the more when Loki was supposed to play the host, but at least he was amusing to watch as he glid from a guest to another and skillfully avoided befriending anyone despite making everyone think that they had.

He had also skillfully avoided her the entire night, no matter how much her fingers had started to itch for his coat lapels. Just to throw the gaudy thing off and strip him down.

The Borders of My Realm (ao3) - boombangbing bruce/jane, pepper/tony M, 29k

Summary: In 1893, vagrant Bruce Banner and society lady Jane Foster are brought together in the home of the eccentric automobile inventor Anthony Stark.

The Counterfeit Courtship (ao3) - spinawren steve/bucky T, 8k

Summary: It was said by the best people in Society that good confectionary had the capacity to solve all of one’s problems. For all that Steven Rogers had a long and storied history of vehement opposition to Society, on this count he had found himself in reluctant accordance with its mores; so much so, indeed, that upon reuniting with a rather older and more vampiric friend it was the consumption of baked goods - soaked through with blood, naturally - which he’d recommended as the most curative activity he knew of.

The Curse of the Castle Keep (ao3) - velvetjinx steve/bucky, pepper/tony, minor bucky/tony, minor bucky/natasha, minor loki/mobius, minor sharon/natasha T, 61k

Summary: When Steve is seven years old, his mother becomes the governess for ten year old Tony Stark. Their move to Yorkshire and the big house will be the start of a new life for them, if Sarah can win round Tony.

A story of friendship, family, growing up, and love that will last - even beyond the grave.

[waloeders]

"malicious master of my destiny,

what is it that you want from me,

what is it that you seek?"

for.spoken si reveal! 🫶 AND i drew him, crazy!

lore- jupiter "jupe" arenshaw is a regular guy on earth until he encounters the newest tanta of athia, frey! unfortunately, he experiences some difficulties and finds himself dragged to this world, bound to the strange golden entity calling itself "vambrace" (definitely not cuff) - or "'brace" for short. in order to find his way back home to earth, he must work together with 'brace to find frey, who has apparently left to seek out the mysterious, long-thought dead rheddig...

okay now fun tibits-

jupe uses he/they and calls cuff/sus.urrus either vambrace, vam, brace, or later on 'rus or sussy (when hes really teasing)!

the song is the descent by polaris, that and annihilation by i_o are #1 songs abt them <3

he has some more items from earth than frey arrives with! including: a backpack with a blanket, teddy, some snacks, a compass and a notebook! they were on their way to a sleepover okay, some of it is just random junk i actually carry ahhsdjnskdmd

they're actually designed with the game in mind! so he has a fair few abilities, some of which overlap with freys but most are unique to him! its partly to do with that whole "bonded to sussy" thing that isnt supposed to work with non-tantas. also some of the items give him specific boosts (compass allows u to forage, blanket allows u to gain a buff after each rest and notebook is where all archive entries appear, as if he'd written them down!)

i kind of picture him like a dlc or small spinoff game post fs1 but before a fs2? ill make a separate post abt their abilities tho, dont want this to get too long :3

ref image for the pose (my sc from the game LMAO):

divider by: @.kgymz ! <3

taglist (ask/dm me n i can add/remove folks!!):

@keyblade-ships @selfshipper @sirius-to-pup @lostmanuscript @deadlock @sosawl @bannering

[dailyunstableeve]

Everyone's Tav has a back story, and I would like to introduce mine!

Well, I just use one of my old oc for this and I think she has a great fit for this (maybe) and it's for fun and get rid of my write blocks, don't attack me please

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Her name is Ade.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

I looked at the camp, with all the people around, Astarion, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, Wyll, Karlach and Scratch. We’re all here just because of the Tadpole, strangers but needed to survive so we stick together.

As Gale is preparing the dinner, I isolated myself in my own tent, having my eyes closed, letting the noises in. Thousands of cries and words flooded my mind immediately, only saying the same thing, “betrayal.”

A story that has never been told to anyone, about how one village just disappeared from the map, bloodless bodies only to be found.

The village of Vam, simple as it is. Every house is a small family of Vampires, natural born, some are turned. We had the power to turn anything to a vampire without needing an ascension ritual, to be able to create more. We made children by using half of our blood mixed in a bowl, using the bones of our ancestors and creating a new born child, the natural born Vampire ritual, with that it also granted us the permission to walk under the sun with no problem. It's a nasty ritual but I've seen it once when my sister, Jezebeth, was born.

I was the chief’s daughter, along with two brothers and a sister. Our talent was only good at hunting preys so we could feast on the blood, and protect the whole village.

Everything changed the moment I harvested my second power, the power to be able to twist one’s blood. I could use their blood as strings to puppet, and I can use mine to grow veins to tangle my enemies.

I loved my family so I told them about my power, hoping they will be proud of me but they never did, because my power can be the end of the family. I never understood why when I was a child, that my family would ask me for favors so that they could do it themselves. It went on for 10 years until I met a girl from the outskirts of town, V.

Hanging out with her made me realize a lot of stuff, mainly learning from how she interacted with her family. V’s family are lovely. I would run to their house every once or twice a week, at first I interacted with them with the manners my mother had taught me, well, taught me to treat her, do the house chores, serve the food, and only eat when everyone is done.

Through V’s family, I learn that the way my family treats me is wrong, so I tried to fight back, hoping I could have some ground to stand on but I'm always pushed away. Slowly, the idea of killing my family appeared in my mind, I tried to seek for V’s help but I was too late.

I saw Aqius standing in front of V’s house, as the house burned to the ground.

“What have you done?” Anxiety and anger rising inside of me, if anything happened to V and the family, I would do anything for them.

“Sister, mother isn't happy about how you always sneak out of the house, she has sent me here to teach you a lesson,” that hideous smirk appeared on Aquis’ face.

He killed V.

There's only one thing on my mind.

I will kill this bastard.

I never used my power on my family at all, because I believe they are my family, and I'm their daughter and sister, and family are meant to be together, forever and always.

Forever and always, foolish of me to think that.

I enjoyed the screams from Aquis as I slowly boiled his blood, turning it into tiny little sharp blades, cutting up his inside bit by bit. It didn't take him long enough to figure out I'm the reason he started to feel the ache, that his body would explode anytime, he started to beg, beg me to spare his life, trying to reason with me with all the good time we had together but all those good times were before I harvested my power.

“I will make you beg like how V begged for you to spare her,” I stared at Aquis with cold eyes, there was no sympathy at all, just anger, “you didn't spare her, so I should not spare you too.”

A snap on the head and it pops off from the body, blood spilling out like a fountain, beautiful. I held up Aquis' head, adjusting its view towards his body and I smiled.

Just like the fountain in the grand palace, elegant.

I turn my sight back to the burning house, telling myself that I'm going to avenge V, I'm going to kill everyone that stops me for killing my whole family.

Everything was a blur, really. It's nothing but me going on a killing spree, slaughtering everything that's blocking my way and how I enjoyed the moment. I never liked screams before but that day, it sounded like music that only I can create and it's a masterpiece.

I remember dropping Aquis' head in front of my family, mother were crying loud, father was furious, he even tried to drive a stake in my heart but he couldn't succeed with me controlling his blood, I turned to my second brother, Josh as I watch father fighting over my power but all he can do was just driving that stake in Josh’s heart.

Jezebeth tried to stop me with her knowledge with herbs, throwing poison at me causing me to fall back a little. Mother tried to take the opportunity to take me down but I had my father pinning my mother down.

I let my family die in their own talent, Jezebeth chugging down all the potions she made, 9 out of 10 are just purely poison. Father will hunt mother down as mother will try to hide, the hunting went quite long enough for me to drain all the blood from the whole village, stored in barrels, because my tiny sanity is telling me to change my blood intake to Vampires instead of Human. It's also the last promise I made with V that I would never take any human’s blood.

I watched mother dragging father's body back to the village which surprised me. I was hoping that father is the one who's dragging mother's body.

Mother looked at me with anger, saying that she will do anything to kill me right now but she knows she won't be able to reach me.

“I should've done this sooner, so V and her family doesn't have to suffer,” I said under my breath, taking control of my mother's blood, “you have taken away everything ever since I got this power, the love of the family. When I thought I would live in this darkness forever, V showed up in my life and showed me light again, I managed to find a family that is my own and wasn't like you all, only know HOW TO USE ME!” I bent mother's leg, having her kneeling in front of me, “you took everything from me, so today, everyone that died here, will be the price you paid for.”

While I left my mother sobbing on the redden ground, I left the village with the barrels of blood I got. Have them hidden away, only to be open if I couldn't fight off the hunger.

“Dinner's ready,” Shadowheart’s stood outside of my tent, letting out some short cough, “everyone are waiting for you.”

“I'll be there,” I took out my hidden stash of blood and had a few sips before I joined the party for dinner.

After I left the village, I had at least five years of freedom until I was captured by the mind flayers. Now I'm on a journey with the others, hoping to find a way to get rid of the tadpoles that are in our brain.

Little do I know, one day my mother will show up again, and my past will be told to the party. I guess I'll start worrying when my mother finally appears.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

[rosemochi]

Redamancy: Chapter 2 (FFVII, VinTi vampire AU)

Whatever small thrill Tifa might’ve gotten from their meeting is long extinguished by the time they leave the basement. Vincent’s eyes bore into hers with an intensity that borders on awkwardness, and his attention isn’t broken until Yuffie speaks up and asks him what his deal is. His answer—Shinra, Jenova Project, Lucrecia—are lost in the drum beat of Tifa’s half-dead heart, springing back to life as if she hadn’t spent the past few years subsisting off of crumbs. Only one word breaks through the deluge—Turks—and it immediately summons images of Reno’s exsanguinated corpse, rotting in one of Midgar’s many sewers. When Vincent’s eyes find hers once more, Tifa looks away, lest he somehow read her thoughts and discover her many, many sins.  They move to leave without him. Relieved, Tifa turns her back to him—and stumbles when he speaks up. He’s changed his mind for whatever reason, and she’s made to suffer the intolerable feeling of a shiver crawling endlessly up her spine as they make their way back to the surface, up the staircase, his ridiculous metal boots clanking heavily on the stone steps.  Of course, she might just be losing it. This isn’t the first time she’s doubted her reality. By the time they’ve made camp—outside of Nibelheim, because neither she nor Cloud are particularly keen on staying—she’s convinced herself that her unease is simply a figment of her imagination, and that Vincent is taking no interest in her at all. But every step of her well-rehearsed routine—taking a non-perishable item out of the food bag for dinner, ‘eating’ it in private, hiding the unopened item in her backpack to dispose of later—is suddenly called into question. Everybody else ignores her strange habits, but will he? Is he even paying attention? Why does she get the strangest feeling that he’s watching her? Their next stop is the Gold Saucer. The minute she and Aerith are alone in their hotel room, the question spills out of Tifa’s mouth. “What do you think of our new teammate?” “Who? The vam—” Aerith bites her lip. “Sorry.”

(Read on AO3!)

[lady-wallace]

Hunters and Hunted: Vampire Hunter AU Part 1 (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

So I have FINALLY started writing for my Part 5 Vampire Hunter AU and...I'm very excited to share this with all of you because I have had so much fun writing this XD Halloween's coming early so enjoy!

~~~~~~~

(Vampire Hunter AU) Giorno is a dhampir in a world where there are vampires and those that hunt them. When a ghoul takes things too far, Giorno is forced to take him out, but now he has an infamous hunter on his trail and his only options might be to join this man as an ally or be killed as an enemy.

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~~

It was not recommended to walk at night unless you were a hunter or one of the things that they hunted. Giorno Giovanna supposed he fell into the latter category, especially tonight as he had a particular reason to be out.

            The falling evening felt good on his face, close, comforting around him. It was easier to move through a crowd without notice, to slip his fingers into the occasional pocket of an unsuspecting gentleman hurrying home before the real monsters began to appear. Even those who pretended not to believe that vampires and other creatures of the sort didn’t exist made sure to make it behind closed doors by the time the sun fully left the horizon.

            “Did you hear?” said the hushed voices on the street. “Another girl was found dead—just a little thing. You think it was vam—”

            “Shh! It’s not our problem to speculate on. If it is, it will be dealt with…”

            Giorno paused briefly to riffle through the coin purses, filling his pockets with the money before tossing them aside, smiling with satisfaction. He’d had a good haul the last few days, enough to see him through the next month of expenses.

            Now for the other thing…

            He moved around the corner and collided with something that let out a small squeak. He instinctively reached out to steady the young woman, probably little older than he was .

            “Oh, I’m so sorry, signore,” she stuttered, blushing.

            “No harm done. I should have been looking where I was going. The fault is all mine, signorina,” Giorno replied apologetically. This close, he could see the flutter of a pulse in the girl’s pale throat, and he had to force himself to release his hold on her instead of pulling her closer and…

            Her companion took the girl’s hand and pulled her along. “Come on, Angelina, we need to get home.”

            “She’s right, it’s dangerous to be out after dark,” Giorno said with a gallant smile. “Do be careful on your way home.”

            The girls nodded and hurried off, hailing one of the many cabs on the street. Some nights Giorno also ran a cab—there was a man he borrowed one from to make a little extra money—but tonight he had other priorities that were making themselves more and more known the lower the sun dropped below the horizon line.

            The hunger gnawed at his stomach—a constant reminder and his hands were beginning to shake as well. He had to feed tonight. He’d tried to stave off the hunger but when he got this bad, regular food only made him ill. There was only one thing that could make him feel better now.

[catreginae]

Thou Shalt Not Fall: The Past - Quarantine

Link wakes up in a place he doesn't recognize, but that's the least of his problems. Fun fact: this has been called 'Waking Up in Vegas' in my doc for months.

[Previous] - [Next]

View the Master Post here!

Link woke up in a dark room.

The bed was comfortable, the quilt covering it was thick and warm, though knowing that it wasn't his bed put him on edge. When he sat up and looked around, the only source of light was a lantern sitting on a small desk on the other side of the room, but he found he didn't need too much light. Odd. He had a closet, though it was mostly empty except for his boots, a vanity with a covered mirror sat against a wall on the wall that faced his foot board. The only thing he found lacking was the fact that there wasn't a single window in the bedroom.

Overall, the room was modest, but he didn't need anything more.

He had no idea how he got there though. He tried to dig through his memories, but he could only remember starving and how nothing he ate seemed to help. He remembered wondering if he was going to die. Come to think of it, it he felt much better – the hunger mostly was replaced with a strange ache in his jaw, but he would rather have the aches than the strange insatiable hunger. He was still kind of hungry, but he didn't feel like he was starving.

Link shoved all those thoughts in the back of his mind. He had to figure out where he was. He got out of bed, his bare feet meeting with the surprisingly not-cool stone floor. The heavy, wooden door in the corner was closed but when he jiggled the handle, he found it was unlocked.

His room was near the end of a hallway that seemed to open up to large, open room. There were more doors and hallways that lead away from the open room, but the centrepiece of the room seemed to be a large, ornate fireplace. It took most of the wall and it was tall enough that a person could walk inside of it. All along the edges of the opening were carvings, though he couldn't see any of the details at the distance he was at. Around the fireplace were sofas with people sitting on them.

“Oh, you're awake!”

Link nearly jumped out of his skin. Next to his room was a young lady with blonde hair tied back into a braid. She was gearing a grey dress with a black apron. Somehow, he completely missed her. “I'll inform Lady Elena. Please wait in your room.”

With a nod, he stepped back inside his dark room, taking a seat on his bed as he waited for Lady Elena, whoever she was. Zelda was slowly introducing him to the nobles but he had yet to hear about a Lady Elena.

The door opened and another woman walked into his room. On the surface, she seemed like a normal Hylian. She was of average height, had long, blonde hair that fell to the middle of her back in waves, and grey eyes that regarded him with warmth. A knee-length, purple dress hugged her figure tightly, and attached to a sash around her waist was a long, black train. Black leather boots, tied in the front, went up to her knees. To add just a little more balance to her outfit, she had some sort of black, floral ornament pinned to her hair on her left side.

“Good Evening, Link. My name is Elena. Do you know why you're here?”

He simply shook his head. He wished Proxi was here.

“Allow me to explain, then,” she mumbled, taking a step closer to his bed. She tilted her head slightly. “Do you feel any different?”

He opened his mouth to explain the ache when he finally realized something else was wrong his mouth. He ran his tongue over his teeth, only to find that his canines were definitely longer and sharper than they should be. How did he miss that before? There was also a strange, metallic taste in his mouth. Elena stepped in front of him, grabbing his chin and pushing his head up.

In a split second, her eyes changed colour. Yellow replaced grey. There was a red ring on the outside, surrounding the yellow. Her canines were also longer, just poking out from her lips.

“What the...?”

“I am a vampire. Vampires are beings that exist almost purely in the shadows. There's a lot that makes us different from normal Hylians, but I suppose the most defining trait of ours is that we need to drink blood to survive. Somehow, you've managed to join our ranks and while Princess Zelda has apparently acknowledged that we had nothing to do with that, we're all in a bit of a predicament now.”

Link shook his head. “I'm not like that...”

He could feel the teeth, the long fangs that made his jaws ache and had him tripping over his own words trying to adjust to them, but he couldn't believe he was a vampire. He was a hero chosen by the goddesses, he could wield a sword that repel evil. How could he of all people have turned into something that drinks blood?

Elena cocked her head to the side, then walked over to the vanity with the covered mirror. She pulled the cover off. “Take a look.”

He leapt to his feet, slamming his hands onto the vanity to lean into the mirror. The same yellow and red eyes she had stared back at him in confusion. A mouth with four teeth that were too long frowned when he frowned. Link looked for anything, anything, in the mirror that could somehow tell him that the reflection in the mirror was not his own but he came up empty. The man in the mirror had the same burn scars from Volga and wore the same clothes.

“I can't be a vampire...” he repeated to himself.

“I'd also like it if the Hero of Hyrule wasn't a vampire. It complicates things. Link, Zelda sent her general and a child to deliver you here, in the hopes that me and my coven here could help you adjust to your new life. So you have two choices – you stay here until I'm confident that you can keep the existence of vampires a secret, or I can take your head right here and put you out of your misery. Adjusting will be hard, especially since you're so... malnourished, but I don't think the Princess would ask for my help if she thought you couldn't do it. She could have killed you quite easily herself and save everybody the trip.”

“How... can you help?”

“I can help you pass for a normal Hylian,” Elena said, blinking hard. Her eyes were back to grey and her teeth no longer poked out. “We'll help you learn how to put your fangs away, how to appropriately source blood... you know, everything one might need to know to be a polite vampire who won't give us all a bad name here.”

“This is hardly a choice,” he muttered. “Either I learn or I'm dead.”

She smirked and snapped her fingers. “Exactly. You might be the Hero of Hyrule, but you won't be anything compared to a vampire who has lived for as long as I have. I can make your death a quick one if you really don't want to be a vampire.”

Link swallowed hard. “If Zelda believes in me... then I guess I have to.”

“That's the spirit. You stay here, I'll be back in just a moment.”

Link let out a curse when she left and fell backwards into his bed. He located a pillow, held it over his face, and screamed. A vampire. A fucking vampire. How the fuck did he become a vampire? He didn't even know what a vampire was until two minutes ago! Maybe Zelda sent off him so she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. What would Mask and Tune say? Did he even have a future in the military anymore?

A certain smell, a smell he could smell even with the pillow in his face, pulled him out of his thoughts. He threw the pillow off his face his and found that Elena returned, holding a dark mug in her hands. “Drink up. You need to build your strength. You almost died from starvation.”

He sighed and sat up, taking the glass. He looked inside and found a dark liquid. It took him a second to realize that the smell was that of blood. She handed him a mug filled with blood. It made him drool, actually drool, but before he could even wipe his chin dry or even think about what he was doing, Link was bringing the mug to his lips. The metallic taste of blood hit his tongue and suddenly, he came aware of just how dry his mouth was and how much his throat ached. It was like he was sparing for eight hours straight without a glass of water.

Link wasn't unfamiliar with the taste of blood. He split his lip before, sometimes he tasted blood when he bit his lips, and once he got punched in the face and the blood from his nose leaked into his mouth. However, it tasted different now, except not really, but he couldn't really describe it. It was still metallic but somehow, that became the best taste in the world. It had no right being so good. It was the answer to every craving he ever had in his entire life.

Within seconds, the mug was empty and that wasn't enough. He need more -

“That's enough,” Elena said. “I need a better idea of how it settles with you before I give you more. In the mean time, get some rest.”

“I don't think I can sleep.”

“Shall I use hypnosis? I can put you to sleep right now.”

Hypnosis? He supposed that couldn't be the strangest thing he heard of today. He looked up at her with a frown.

“Maybe once to see what it feels-”

He found himself gazing into glowing yellow eyes and after that, he couldn't remember anything.

“You know you need to drink blood, right?”

It wasn't Elena who came to see him when he woke up next but who he guessed must have been other vampires judging by the way they made his skin crawl. It didn't take long for him to decide that he liked Elena better than the two girls who were trying to get him to drink another cup of blood that he didn't feel like drinking. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry for it – he was starving and that weird craving from earlier was back – he just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he needed it.

So Link was busy sitting on the corner of his bed, in the corner of his room, trying to ignore the two similar looking girls – probably sisters – and their stupid cup of blood.

“Do we really have to get Elena in you to use hypnosis on you again?”

“I only said she could do it once.” He was still trying to figure out how to talk with his stupid, overgrown teeth. He glared at them. The sisters looked to be somebody was maybe a younger teen and the other looked to be in their early twenties at most. They had rounded ears and dark hair that they tied up into long ponytails, but the could still see the curls. One was taller and the other had a different shade of brown in her eyes.

“You still gotta drink it,” the younger of the two stated, tilting her head slightly. “It's not a choice for us, you know.”

“I want to talk to Elena.”

“Fine, suits us,” the older one muttered, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Beth.”

The two of them left. He was still in his corner, picking at his nails, when Elena came in after what felt like several hours. He wasn't sure how much time passed since he had no windows or anything else to tell time with. He wasn't even sure how many days passed since he was last at the castle. It could have been two days, it could have five. He had no idea.

“I know it isn't easy for new vampires to accept it, but you do need blood.”

Link merely glared at her. She was wearing something new – a red floor length dress with long sleeves. She was frowning as she crossed her arms.

“You arrived here not in your right mind. They had to tie you up in castle to keep you from hurting anybody because you tried to attack anything with a pulse. That's what happens when a vampire doesn't get the blood they need. I have to protect the Hylians in my service, so if you won't drink it yourself, I will shove it down your throat so that doesn't happen. If you continue to refuse to cooperate, I'll take it as a sign that you don't want to be a vampire anymore and we've already discussed what that means.”

“I...” Her threat barely registered. Link couldn't remember attacking anybody. If he actually hurt anybody, he wasn't sure if he could forgive himself, especially if it was Tune or Mask he hurt. He was attached to them, like they were the little brothers he always wanted, but did they even like him anymore?

Elena snapped her fingers. “Link.”

His eyes snapped to her fingers.

“If you want to prevent such episodes in the future, you're going to need to drink the damn blood. We drink blood to survive. It's not some sort of dessert that you can skip, got it? If you go without blood and you start starving, your vampire instincts will fight for survival. Nobody knew you were a vampire at the castle, not even you, so it's forgivable that you tried to find a source of blood when on the edge of death. Now that you know, though? Why, it would be your fault if somebody got hurt or died because you're too good to drink blood.”

Before Link knew what he was doing, a vicious hiss tore from his throat. His fingers curled into the sheets, practically tearing through them as he attempted to reign in some of the sudden anger.

“Facts are facts, Link. You need the blood. You need to get used to digesting it and that's why I can only you give you a little at time. However, you are not at the liberty of skipping meals when I send them to you. If you ever want to see the friends who cared enough to send you my way again, you will cooperate.”

He didn't say anything, but Elena seemed to take his silence for an answer. She disappeared and came back with the cup of blood he rejected earlier. The smell hit him as soon as it was in his hands and for a second, Link wondered how he could have ever said no to such a delicious smell. Then, he reminded himself that it was blood, and he didn't know how the blood was sourced, and it made his stomach curl up at the thought of it. Delicious yet nauseating.

When he brought it to his lips, any thought of being concerned of where the blood was coming from disappeared. All Link could think about was that he needed more of it. Once he downed the mug, he licked the inside of it to extract every drop. He licked his lips and his oversized teeth. Then he wanted to throw it all back up when he realized how gross it was that he was so excited for it. Elena frowned.

“Hmph, now you like it? You're overthinking it. It's just blood. You need it to survive and you need it to heal. You of all people must know that sometimes we have to do unsavoury things to survive.”

Link frowned. She was right. His world was one where he had to kill to avoid getting killed himself, or watching the people he cared about more getting killed. He would be the first to admit that sometimes he was a bit brutal in that regard.

“Try to get some more sleep, alright? The faster you recover from the transformation, the faster you can hide your fangs and go back out into society.”

He handed the glass back – and it occurred to him that he didn't do this before he passed out last time – and tucked himself in. It wasn't like he had anything else he could do.

At some point, Elena came in every day for something other than blood.

“The fangs are retractable. If you're fully recovered and in control of yourself, you should be able to hide them just by thinking of it. It's like flexing a muscle.”

Link wasn't that great with magic, but if he could manage to use some of it, then surely he could hide his fangs. It would almost feel like he wasn't a vampire if he could simply hide the most obvious signs of being a vampire. He never thought that he would miss the fact that he used to have blue eyes, but there was the strange reality of his situation.

He kept the image of what he used to look like in his head, thought about the blue eyes he inherited from his mother and the lack of long, pointy fangs in his mouth, and thought about really wanting to go back to that. He thought about the fangs simply vanishing. He even thought about simply being Hylian.

None of it worked. He could still feel his too long and too pointy teeth when he ran his tongue over his teeth. He frowned.

“It's fine, Link. It could just be that you haven't completely recovered yet. It's possible that you just need some more time to figure it out. Nobody gets it on their first try.”

Huh. He found himself looking at his bed sheets instead.

“Just keep trying. You'll figure it out. I know you will.”

The first time he finally managed to put his fangs away, he almost cheered. Link watched himself in the mirror a couple of times, popping his fangs in and out of his mouth until it started making his gums hurt, so he decided to stop. Besides, it was eerie to watch his eyes change at the same time. He still wasn't used to seeing himself with anything besides blue eyes because he covered up the mirror for a while.

“How long have I been here for?”

Ever since he shooed off the sisters, most of his interactions were with Elena. He saw the other vampires – two more in addition to Elena and the sisters – but they seemed to steer clear of his room for the most part unless they had to bring him his blood serving. They only one who introduced himself with a taller guy with red hair named Walter and then there was the younger girl, Beth. Beth's older sister and what looked to be a older teen, somebody that was probably closer to Tune in age, were still a mystery to him.

“Two weeks,” Elena said. It took him an entire week before he could put his teeth away? Damn. “Being able to put your fangs away is a good sign. It means you're well fed and you're starting to gain some control over your powers. I've never seen it take a week but everybody learns at their own pace. You might be ready to leave the room soon as long as you're accompanied by another vampire.”

Link sighed. Elena hasn't let him leave his room since he arrived, saying that he couldn't be trusted to be around the Hylian servants if he had no control over his powers – the inability retract his fangs despite being 'healed' was proof of that – so he just drank the blood they gave him, slept a lot since he was still quite exhausted, and he read the books that Elena would bring him sometimes. It felt like he was cooped up in there for much longer than two weeks though but he supposed if only received one set of letters from his friends at the castle and just some of his extra clothing, he couldn't have been gone for that long.

“I don't think they like me.”

“Oh, Walter's been waiting to question you. He's a scholar at heart, he'll talk forever if you let him. Beth is a sweet girl, I don't think you being snippy at first will chase her away. As for Marcus and Audrey... well, I guess they just don't like the idea of our coven expanding.”

In other words, he threw a stick into a wheel spoke of a perfectly good carriage. It wasn't like he signed up to be a vampire. If he had a choice, he wouldn't be here. In fact, still wasn't sure how he became a vampire in the first place. He felt a bit different once he came to the castle after fighting Cia, but why should she want to turn him into a vampire? Was that what he got for rejecting her for the last time? Did she think he could get to him by making him into some sort undesirable monster? Did she want him to be reminded of her every time he had to drink blood?

“They'll get over it. They have little choice in the matter. I get to decide who belongs in the coven, and you'll always have a place here.”

“... really?” Link couldn't see himself living with vampires but he appreciated the sentiment. Maybe he would live with them one day, if he retired form the military or if he was no longer welcomed there. He knew Zelda and Impa cared from their letters and they apparently had no problems with the fact that he was a vampire now, but he couldn't predict how the rest of the military would feel. The thought of being turned on again made his stomach ache.

“Of course. We'll always be here. Us vampires in Hyrule have to stick together. I still don't know how you became a vampire, but I see you as a little brother. You're taller than me... but I've got more than a thousand years on you,” she said with a smirk. Link almost hurt his neck whipping his head so fast to see her face. He felt his fangs pop out on their own accord. Damn, if he was in front of anyone else, he would have just blown his secret. Even in front of Elena, he would be embarrassed if he wasn't so surprised. He thought he finally had control over his fangs.

She tilted her head slightly.

“What's the matter?”

“You've been alive for more than a thousand years?” His voice was louder than he meant to be but nobody told him that vampires could live that long. They just said he needed to drink blood or he would lose his mind and attack his friends and he knew that Elena had hypnotic eyes, but that was about it.

“Vampires don't die of old age. We will always look the way we did when we were turned, except for superficial changes, of course. We can cut our hair and it'll grow back, for example. That isn't say we're completely immortal – we can be killed – but neither age nor disease will end our lives.”

“Then what does kill a vampire? I'm guessing it's not the same things that can kill a regular person.”

“Kind of,” she said, tilting her hand side-to-side. “Humans can't survive being staked through the heart, decapitation, or complete immolation and neither can we. Sunlight will set us on fire. We can starve to death if we don't get blood. We can regenerate a great deal though, so what doesn't kill us is more inconvenient than anything else.”

“I can't be in the sun? How I'm supposed to work?”

“You'll find a way.”

“Why am I only finding out about this stuff after two weeks?”

“We were focusing on your recovery and making sure you were getting used to drinking blood. Besides, if we told you everything at once, while you were already upset about being turned into a vampire, you'd get even more overwhelmed.”

Link sighed. Elena had a point.

“But know that you're ready, we can talk a lot more now. Come, let me show you around.”

So this chapter has been mostly finished for a while, so the next update will take a lot longer because I still have to write most of it.

[melabea]

Icaepyriec

(pt: Icaepyriec /end pt)

(ids: 2 rectangular flags with 7 equally-sized horizontal lines. colors in this order from top to bottom are black-pink, dark dull pink, red, light pink, red, dark dull pink, and black-pink. in the center of the first flag is a pale pink circle with a black-pink symbol in it. the symbol is a diamond with a small circle centered vertically and above where it would be if it was centered horizontally. below the circle is a vertical line with a horizontal line below where it would be if it was centered inside the diamond. from the horizontal line is half of a pill-shaped oval, the other side connected to the diamond. /end ids)

Icaepyriec; a form of nonhuman tertiary attraction (Alteraffectis) that describes how a magic embodiment feels towards a vampire, & vice versa.

etymology; “(mag)icae” latin for magic, (vam)pyr(e), “iec” meaning from/deriving from

tagging; @radiomogai, @thecoffeecrew404, @kiruliom, @alteraffectis

[inolienkiki]

The Keepers website was taken down sometime in the last few days. I don't know exactly when, because I don't remember the last time I checked it, and our fandom is so small that it could easily have taken months to notice if I hadn't needed to reference something for the wiki.

It's not really a logistical problem; thankfully, the Wayback Machine has a recent scan of the website that covers everything- all the text, all the files. I've downloaded all the assets to my computer to make sure I have it personally backed up. (Let me know if you'd like any in particular.)

Nonetheless, the whole situation has left me feeling really... empty, I guess. For years, the Keepers website was basically the only thing left to anchor this story in the present. Almost everything about the series- initial announcement, anything from the original book tour, early author interviews, the HarperCollins webpage- was already gone soon after the series wrapped up. But now, all those links are gone, and the series is out of print, and the fandom is a few people on Tumblr who occasionally think about it, and vam, and me.

In just five days, the first Keepers book will reach its nine-year anniversary. But I don't feel like celebrating, because I feel like my favorite books are part of history now. Books are supposed to be timeless, but so few people are ever going to pick up these books again. Even so, I'm always excited by forgotten books- but Keepers doesn't feel exciting in the same way, because it's in the process of being forgotten, and because I know it could have survived if it had just reached its target audience.

The books are gone- out of print. The author is gone- he's said he wants to write another children's series, but he hasn't posted anything in several years, and his one last link to Keepers just went down. The people who read these books when they came out, the children in the school tours and the positive Facebook commenters and the one student who made the 3D-printed Fel'Daera, they're gone too, because Keepers likely isn't part of their story anymore. So, I guess I'm glad that it's part of mine.

I know this is a very specific feeling, and I know all 4 of my followers are already aware of the Keepers series, and I don't need to be telling you about it. But I guess what I do want to tell you is: Let's talk about Keepers. Let's draw and write and think about Keepers. Let's keep our memories of this series alive, and let's share it with our friends and through that let's send our problem into every other universe. God knows, we all deserve these books.

I'll see y'all later this week with a map of the Great Burrow.