#castlevania intrusive thoughts

[ary369]

The old man in red and white everyone will think about in December🎅🎄

The old man in red and white I'll be thinking about this December😆🗡

[lord-mimic-tear]

Me after getting the slightest bit of good news to boost my confidence

My ego:

[ruiniel]

castlevania scenario idea; Alucard having a wet dream

Hollow

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!Reader

Count: 0.6k

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Tags/CW: post-castlevania, explicit sexual content, angst, dreams, pining

All characters depicted are 18+

Her.

Always, she’s been so collected, at times bordering on bashful even, a trait Adrian found as precious as it was disarming; in a way, it reminded him of… well, of himself.  

Then again, not always; certainly not now. Now, she clings to him as though her life depends on wrapping herself as tightly as possible around his body, still clothed but for the hastily undone belts and trousers, in the most unsuitable place possible: one of the many nooks and recesses found in the vastness of the Belmont Hold.

The Hold, all but teeming with people during these dusty afternoon hours, milling about their daily routine; footsteps reach his sensitive hearing from time to time, though none luckily pause by the door for too long.

The least probable place he would ever consider to—

A sigh is crushed against his flushed ear when Adrian draws her closer by the hips, shreds his thoughts, his aim narrowing to the tight warmth of her, propped up onto a table with her legs crossed around his hips. The soft ruffles of her plain dress slip about her naked thighs, fingers caught fiercely in his shirt, crumpling it at his chest.

She’s all but pushed him into this cramped little space earlier as they were making their way together towards the outside.

They’ve had each other many times, in many ways; Adrian knows her as she does him, with each point of pleasure forever engraved into each other’s senses. Truly, the location matters little in the end, he'd stopped caring the moment she kissed him. Still, he would be thankful not to be stumbled upon like this, thrusting into his lover who grasps at him, disheveled like a bacchante and propped up on this table; her dress and stay undone, revealing those pretty, pointed breasts bouncing languidly in time with his pace.

“Ah—!”

“… shush,” Adrian smiles, high on the languorous scent, “you must stay silent,” he whispers, nipping gently on her lip with the barest graze of teeth. He swallows her moan, thrusts slower and deeper when she suddenly turns and sinks her teeth cruelly into his shoulder—another surprise, one he never imagined could feel this good, “... you… wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would you? That was the challenge, was it not?...”

Another whimper of pleasure, her assent sweetly muffled into his neck; Adrian hears and feels her racing heart, adding to the pressure, to the ecstatic sensation of slinking in and out of her body as she grabs at him, hips tilting upward as to best be pleased. Sometimes she likes it to hurt; sometimes, he obliges.

“Good girl…” Adrian murmurs, gloveless hands running up and down her thighs before his finger reaches to feel that delicious sleekness and he’s so close—

His eyes snap open. His heart soars, mind inflamed by confusion; his chest heaves, lungs pleading for air like one lost to drown in the outer oceans.

He's also aching.

A dark, silent room greets him, the nether cut by a lone moonbeam; his own chamber, his own bed: empty. On his back, gazing at the tall, carved ceiling with its gaping stone grotesques, Adrian still feels her taste. He runs his tongue along his lips with painful, longing recollection, remembering the hotness of her around him. Never, she said. Always, she'd pledged. Absolutes hardly ever last.

The sheen on his fevered skin turns ice-cold. Curling to one side, miserable enough to ignore even his body’s persistent, bothersome reminder of the torturous oneiric intrusion, Adrian sighs. Eyes pressed shut, he reaches to feel the cold side of the bed, long fingers grabbing a fistful and crinkling the smooth sheets, as if ravaging their pristine state could make him feel less hollow.

Hells alive, how he misses her. 

◘ CASTLEVANIA X READER MASTERLIST

◘ MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

[breadenjoyer123]

We created this blog to try to make friends. Please message if you're interested in being friends! Skip DNI at your own risk, although we'll just block you if you're on it

About Us (important things highlighted):

- Fictive heavy traumagenic system, body is 23 years old

- Diagnosed with ASD, ADHD-PI, CPTSD, BPD, GAD, and OCD

- Anti-harassment/anti-censorship/proship/profic, whatever you want to call it

- Endo neutral, anti-misinformation

- For safety reasons we probably won't talk about many specific alters until we know it's safe to share that information

- Happy to be friends with all traumagenic systems, small or big, fictive heavy or not, etc

DNI:

- Minors

- Non-traumagenic systems ask to interact, this is for personal reasons. Mixed origin traumagenic systems can interact, excluding those that believe alters can travel between systems, universes, etc. Pro-endo systems can interact

- If you harass people over fictional characters for any reason/think it's okay to do so and if you let fiction dictate your friendships

- If you ship real people like YouTubers and celebrities

- If you support AI "art"

- If you won't communicate clearly and directly

- If you think fake claiming is okay

- If you think Kaeluc is incest, it is not

- If you think the Revival My Dream event in Project Sekai is racist, it is not

- If you think people with POCD, ZOCD, harm OCD, etc intrusive thoughts are bad people aka you don't understand OCD

- TERFs, truscum/transmed, transphobes, queerphobes of any kind, exclusionists, transID, MAPs/pedos, racists

Some sources, these aren't all so you can ask about others (these are in no particular order), we're always happy to talk to sourcemates: My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Black Butler, Attack On Titan, Castlevania, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Yuri!!! On Ice, Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Genshin Impact, Marvel, Mystic Messenger, Nu: Carnival, Obey Me, Persona 5 Royal, Project Sekai, Punishing: Gray Raven, Tears of Themis, The Arcana, Honkai: Star Rail

Userboxes by sysboxes

[beevean]

hey! i've been meaning to get back into the sonic the hedgehog, and since you have a pretty good handle on the games, i'd thought i'd ask which game you'd recommend for someone who's only had experience with Sonic 2 and S3&K? i can only count riders as one of the more story-oriented games i've played, but i know there's more out there and would love to hear your opinion on what'd be fun to just dive into :3

Ah, the eternal question I simply can't find an answer to 😂 I don't know why it's much easier for me to help people get into Megaman, Metroid or Castlevania than the series I grew up with lmao

Still!

Sonic 1: playing the series in chronological order is always a valid option, and since you are familiar with S2 and 3&K, why not complete the Classics with the original one? Its biggest hurdle is that it suffers from a noticeable case of Early Installment Weirdness: no Spin Dash (in the original version, it was put in nearly every subsequient re-release), 3 acts instead of 2, and generally speaking a much more platform-y level design. But I have fun replaying it every June 23rd, I think it's still a solid game that was perfectly designed to be mastered.

Sonic Adventure: my personal first Sonic game. I love it to death despite its flaws :P Sonic's story is, for me, peak 3D Sonic with spacious and complex level design, graphics and music are on point, the plot is moderately engaging... yeah the other characters range from "they're there" to "i hate everything you stand for", but personally I don't find them too intrusive. I recommend the PC version (either 2004 or Steam, I have the former) with mods that "Dreamcastify" it and fix some of its issues; alternatively, the Gamecube version of Sonic Adventure DX is a good compromise. Do not play the vanilla Steam version or anything that came after it.

Sonic Adventure 2: everyone else's first Sonic game lmao. If you found SA1 too bloated, or the cutscenes too ridiculous, or the hub world too annoying, SA2 fixes all of this. It's a game that was meant to be mastered, thanks to its introduction of the ranking system. It's also the game that introduced fandom blorbos Shadow and Rouge! The Battle remaster also came out on Steam.

Sonic Heroes: the one game designed to introduce newcomers to the series! A flawed game, even more bloated than SA1, that I nonetheless like for the bright aesthetic, fresh soundtrack, and richness of level design, my second favorite after SA1. I recommend the Gamecube version, as it's the least buggy of the bunch.

Sonic Colors: I was actually going to recommend either Unleashed or Generations when it comes to Boost games, but the former is rather complex and divisive, and the latter is mostly a "best of" of the series from S1 to Colors. I haven't played Colors myself, but it looks to me that it was meant to 1) introduce another wave of newcomers, and 2) fix the complaints that Unleashed received at the time. Colors is a pretty simple game with unintrusive gimmicks, mostly about Boosting, platforming, and exploring the levels thanks to the Wisps. Either find the original Wii version, or try the recent Ultimate remaster.

Sonic Mania: technically, this is a love letter to the Classic series (and a few nods to more minor games, too), but it builds up on 3&K's foundations and at its core is a solid, well-designed, charming Classic game. With the Plus DLC, you can play up to 5 different characters!

the Advance trilogy: very cute games that put a modern spin on the 2D formula. Advance 1 is a simple, straightfoward 2D game, with its most memorable feature being that you can play as Amy and her gameplay style is very unique. Advance 2 is all about building and mantaining speed in levels that resemble rollercoasters, and it introduced Cream, the Goddess of Destruction. Advance 3 is all about teamwork, as you combine two characters to get an unique way to traverse levels. You're bound to like at least one :)

the Rush duology: made by the same devs of the Advance games, these ones are technically the first Boost games, but in 2D. They were my shit when I was a kid lmao. They're fast, stylish and fun! And they introduced Blaze :>

I hope at least one of these piques your curiosity, and have fun <3

[monochromaticafterdark]

Hey, this is Mono. This is my more thirsty, Nsft/nsfw tumblr. I don't want my other page to be flooded with this content, so I made this one! The main tag for my personal horny posting is #snailtrail.

Everything I post that is graphic will have the censor over it, as well being tagged with triggers as well! I do have intrusive thoughts, so some of my kinks/fantasies do involve some darker/questionable imagery. Just note, this is how I personally cope, so if it makes you uncomfortable please exercise the block or filter features.

Click the Read More for more info!

Things I write/Fantasize about:

Vague Gore, Blood play, Knife play, Recording or Pictures, Grinding, Eating Someone Out, Body Worship, Pegging, Toys, Feeding (Not in a feederism way, in a hand feeding small treats and being taken care of kind of way. No weight gain or binge eating involved.), temperature play, objectum (specifically plushum and Agalmatophilia), incest. I'll add more as I think of them!

Things that are an 'eh':

Penetration, Actual Pregnancy, Breeding, Impact Play, Hypnosis, CNC, if more come up I'll add them!

Things I will NOT write about, mostly because they make me uncomfortable personally. (However if you do write this, you are still allowed to follow me and interact, I'm not going to judge or hate ya.)

Ageplay, Raceplay, scat or piss, anything to do with wounds outside of causing them, if there's more I'll add them!

This has more of my f/os that will appear on this page!

🩷Gabriel🩷- Fiance! My main f/o and one of the ones I gush about and fixate on the most! Also, he is the male equivalent of a pillow princess, and I will not be taking questions. He's from Castlevania Lords of Shadows Trilogy!

🕊️Marie🕊️- My girlfriend and Gabriel's wife! She is a gentle Dom and we have a dynamic of teasing Gabriel ;).

🎃Drake🎃- My f/o husband of six years! I love him dearly, but our relationship is more on the quiet side. He was an original character I grew attached too!

🩸Dracul🩸- My King! He is an au version of Gabriel that I got inspired to make. He's still being fleshed out, but our relationship is a dynamic of, I get to live in his castle and get everything I need and want, but I'm his pet, and I have to occasionally sit in his lap when he's on his throne.

❤️‍🩹Decrepit Dracul❤️‍🩹 - I.... can't fully explain this one. He grew on me, and now I thirst to absolutely destroy this man in bed.

I'm sure there will be more over time!

[fookinfandoms]

Life Eternal | Hector Castlevania

Set before Dracula requested Hector’s services. Reader is believed to be a witch, but in reality she just doesn't care for human company.

Pairing: Hector x Reader

Warnings: Language, small mention of smut, mentions of animal death/resurrection. 

Part One.

_________________________________________________________________

They call you a witch, and you never bothered to correct them.

It was preposterous, you were nothing of the sort. You never really understood why the townspeople hated outsiders so much. It had been months since you had settled in, yet you couldn't get as much as a smile from your own neighbour.

There was one woman however that would spare you a few words, that is if you paid her some coin in exchange for her cooked goods.

Was it because you didn't attend church? Perhaps it was because you choose to remain in the company of your dog over the local women's group that congregated every Thursday. The people weren't friendly at all, and you often wondered if you made the right decision in moving to such a tight-knit community. 

You weren't the only outsider however. It had been three weeks after you had moved in when you saw him. 

He wasn't like the others here. 

He kept his head down, his voice to himself. Even when the people would throw abuse at him, he kept his eyes to the dirt. It both saddened and confused you, wondering why such was happening. He didn't look like some brute, nor some boisterous drunk... so why did they all hate him?

Finding the courage to ask the baker, she informed you that he dabbled in dark magic, and was often found talking to wild animals. He lived on the big hill, and she continued to babble on about how he was rumoured to bring animals back to life. This surprised you, and you asked for more information but she held her hand out for more coin.

It didn't bother you as much as it should, for you spoke mainly to animals too. Your small companion - a beagle named Rhubarb. He was your best friend and the only family you had left. He wasn't everyone’s cup of tea that's for sure, often stealing fish from the baskets from local fisherman. 

This was life. 

It was Rhubarb and you against the world, that is until you came home from your weekly trip to the market, having bought new blankets for the two of you when you found Rhubarb lying on the side of the road. 

He stayed unmoving, even after calling his name twice. Rain poured down heavily, and you wondered why the silly dog hadn't run under a tree yet. You knelt down by his side, placing your basket by his head. 

He still didn't move, and your breath caught in your throat.

It took you some seconds to realise he wasn't breathing, and you screamed out in anguish at the sight. Your hands shook as you pulled his small, limp body into your arms, holding him in an embrace as you sob.

His fur was darkened in harsh line, and you knew someone had purposely run over him with a carriage. He knew better than to play on the road, but being an older dog, he wasn't as quick as he used to be. 

He was your life. 

Rhubarb still had years ahead of him, running past your feet and stealing fishes from baskets. Who would be so cruel to run over a dog? On purpose? 

The tears wouldn't stop falling. Was this your curse in life? Everyone you loved being taken away from you?

No. 

If there was a way to bring him back, you will have to try. 

You wrap Rhubarb in one of the new blankets, careful not move too quickly. There was only one destination on your mind, and you hoped the baker was right. The rain had soaked through your dress completely, clinging to you like a second skin.  

Your hair blew in the wind, tangling into a mess, and tiny sobs still escaped you as you cuddled your beloved friend in your arms. 

You weren't sure how long you had been walking for. Minutes? Hours? It felt like days by the way you shivered in the storm. In reality it had only been twenty minutes, but each step felt like an eternity. If this didn't work, you didn't know what you would do. 

The sky had long since turned dark, and you felt no fear as you walked. Finally, light could be seen ahead, and you silently prayed to whoever was listening that he was home. Lighting struck from behind you, and your breathing came out harshly as you trudged up the hill. 

You wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't hear your kicks against his front door over the sound of thunder. Your hands were full, and you were sure your toes would be bruised over how hard you kicked. 

The door didn't budge, and so you kicked again, over and over. 

The tears continued to fall, and desperation came out in small cries as your arms grew weak from the heavy weight. 

“Please,” You yell out. “I know you're in there! Please!”

The door finally opens, nearly causing you to lose balance. He stands in front of you, face full of anger at the intrusion. 

“What the bloody hell do you want?” He peers down at you in confusion, his eyes staring into yours. If it weren’t for the fact you were currently shivering and holding your deceased dog in hand, you would’ve said something about his unique appearance. “Well?”

“Y-you have to help me,” You held Rhubarb closer to you. “They s-said you could help!”

The man pays no attention to the bundle in your arms, instead choosing to shut the door. He doesn’t get the chance however, as your foot wedges itself before it could close.

“What are yo-“

“He didnt deserve this!” You cry, ignoring the pain shooting up your leg at the sharp movement. The rain pours even harder, and there’s not one part of you dry.

“He?” The man questions, and instead of replying, you peel back an edge of the blanket, revealing a limp paw.

His eyes narrow slightly, before he looks back to you. “What are you asking of me here?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m asking.”

“The last time I helped somebody,” He shakes his head. “It didn’t work in my favour. Leave.”

“I will pay you anything, I will slave away in the kitchens if I have too,” Begging was your last resort. “I will give you myself for Christ’s sake! Just please help him!”

He sighs, his head looking towards the ceiling as if in deep thought before letting the door open again. He steps aside, signalling for you to enter. You do so quickly, immediately feeling better at the warmth. It didn’t help that your clothes were completely drenched. Gods, you probably did look like a witch right now.

“Well?” The man says from behind you, and you turn your head. His arms are outstretched, asking for you to pass the animal over.

Your teeth clatter as you shiver yet again, but you gently pass Rhubarb over to the stranger. He takes him with as much care, and your hands immediately begin to rub at your upper arms for warmth.

He begins to walk away, further into the house and you follow suit. A cat runs past your feet as you pass through a hallway, and it’s then you notice half her face missing. It surprises you to find that you’re not scared, and the further you look around the more you begin to notice plenty more pets.

“Don’t pay them any mind, they won’t harm you.” The stranger mumbles ahead, and you whip your head in his direction.

“I’m not worried, they seem pleasant.” Your tone matches his, and he chuckles. He stops, turning his head around with a forced grin.

“Pleasant. They’re dead. They don’t like strangers, so don’t get too comfortab-“ As if on cue, another cat rubs their head against your leg, and the stranger frowns. “Well that’s new.”

“Most animals like me, even the dead ones I guess.” You shrug, bending down to pet the cats head. It’s stomach is exposed, and your heart aches knowing the animal must’ve suffered before meeting the magic man.

“And this one?” He nods towards the bundle in his arms, and your bottom lip quivers. He begins to walk again, and you wipe away a stray tear.

“T-that’s Rhubarb,” You stand, following once more. “I’ve had him since I was young.”

“So old age got him then.”

“No,” The man was taken back by the sudden change of your tone. “Someone in the town killed him on purpose, they don’t like me and they certainly didn’t like him.”

“Bastards.” His jaw clenched at the news.

“I guess it was easier to kill my boy than it was to kill me.” He nods in agreement.

“They’re scum, all of them.”

It was your turn to nod. Finally the two of you came to a room, a stone table laying in the centre. Various knives stood at the side, and your stomach dropped.

As if sending your unease, the man shakes his head. “I’m a forge master, there is no need to worry about those.”

It didn’t exactly help calm your nerves, but realising the man was actually a forge master and not some magician made more sense. Forge masters weren’t exactly liked in the world, much to your confusion.

“I’m Hector,” Hector places Rhubard down on the table, removing the blanket off of him. “And you are?”

“(Y/N),” You stood in the back as Hector moved around. His movements were graceful, and your chest tightened at the site of your beloved pet. “I moved here recently.”

He chuckes. “I thought as much, we don’t get many of your kind here.”

“My kind?” The air turned colder by the second, and you slowly made your way to the fireplace in an attempt to warm up, keeping your eyes on the forgemaster.

“Good-hearted.” His hands rest of Rhubarbs stomach, petting him as if he were alive.

“How do you know I’m good hearted? I don’t think even forgemasters can read souls.”

“You offered me your body in exchange for your dogs life,” He looks back at you with a genuine smile. “Not many people would do that. No sane person at least.”

“Most sane people have others in their life to keep them as such, I only have him.”

“Well let me just say that there will be no need for such payment, I can see you care deeply for him.” Hector reaches for a peculiar shaped coins. “But you may want to look away, it gets quite bright.”

You do as he says, choosing to look at the fire. The room grows dark as Hector works, and you close your eyes, silently hoping for success. Minutes go by, the sound of metal on metal ringing through your ears as you breathe out quickly.

The ringing continues for sometime, before the whole room goes quiet. The only sound heard is the cracking of the fire, that is until a familiar bark startles you.

Your eyes open, and you’re met immediately with a beagle at your feet, jumping onto his hind legs in an attempt to climb on you. You fall to your knees, your arms surrounding Rhubarb as he licks at your cheeks. His eyes are no longer a dark brown, instead a shimmering blue. You didn’t care, all that mattered now was that he was alive.

“Oh my darling boy,” You cried, letting the small dog climb into your lap. “My sweet, sweet boy.”

Hector wipes his hands with a clothe, before clearing his throat.

“You have to let me pay you somehow,” You sniff as Rhubarb continues whining for attention. “You have a gift Hector.”

“Others don’t think so.” He laughs, throwing the clothe onto the table.

“The others can go jump off a cliff for all I care,” The beagle in your lap jumps away, turning his attention to Hector for pats. “You saved him, that matters to me.”

“Yes well right now you’re getting my floorboards wet,” Hector kneels down to Rhubarbs level. “So if you’re wanting to pay me somehow, you can pay me but dressing into something more comfortable and staying.”

Your stomach drops at his words, and as if realising his own innuendo, he stumbles over his next words.

“N-no not like that! I just m-mean it’s too dangerous to return home right n-now,” Hector coughs, his cheeks turning a small tinge of pink. “You know with the storm in all, and it would’ve been a w-waste of both our efforts tonight.”

In just a span of a few minutes, Hector went from a cocky forgemaster to a blubbering mess. It made you giggle, and he releases a few small chuckles himself as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll stay.”

[sturmvcgel]

@fenixburned​ for Arthur / Castlevania AU

                    “Forgive my intrusion”, she entered the garden without second thought. A vampire needed to be invited in, houses, walled in areas, any place these mortals had claimed for their own. But in Marian’s veins her father’s darkness had mixed with her mother’s human blood, and rules that had been steadfast for centuries were now turning into changeable things between her gentle fingers. “Your heart beats so loud and steady I could not resist but come and find you. Tell me, are you the one they call Arthur Holmwood? I am in need of help and I have come far to find it here” The sun broke through clouds ahead and Marian stepped back into the shadows, before any light could pierce her pale skin. It would not kill her, but it was so dreadfully uncomfortable still. 

[sol1056]

What are your overall thoughts on Castlevania season 3? So far the season, particularly the last two episodes (especially the 9th episode), have been controversial.

Well, that penultimate episode definitely put me in mind of the famous quote…

Obiwan: “I feel a great disturbance in the force…”

Half of which was probably screams into the void over this seeming betrayal, and the other half was shrieks in delight about confirmed OT3 potential.

On a more serious note, I’ve got a bunch of asks about S3, so I’m covering them all in this one response, because my thoughts come down to one thing.

This season was all about trust.

If we can consider this season (much like S1) to be setup, these episodes are for getting characters into the places and mindsets that the following act will require. So whatever we get in S4, it’ll require that Sypha be accustomed to Trevor’s life as an outcast demon-hunter, that Trevor accept his choices impact more than just him, that Alucard repell intrusions on his solitary guardianship, that Carmilla has a bound forgemaster and solid plans to grow an army, and that Issac has a full-sized army of his own. 

A pedestrian approach would have been all plot: a whole lot of running from one place to the next while shouting exposition. It could’ve ended up a truly jarring tonal shift between what’s basically four separate storylines: Alucard and Cho’s former prisoners, Sypha and Trevor and Saint Germain, Isaac’s journey to find Hector, and finally Carmilla and Hector. Though given they hardly interact after the first episode, we could treat this as two parallel storylines: Carmilla and her sisters, and Hector and Lenore.

(Spoilers behind the cut.)

Instead, Ellis uses these four (or five) storylines to explore different issues with trust, betrayal, and isolation. Sypha and Trevor recognize that St Germain’s unexpected willingness to trust wasn’t born of seeing them as trustworthy, so much as a symptom of St Germain’s overwhelming isolation and loneliness – and they even remark on the similarity to someone else, implied to be Alucard. Who – after his highly guarded and distanced interactions with Sypha and Trevor in S2, followed by a month (or a year, Alucard’s lost track) of total isolation – has come to the same place as St Germain. 

In both cases, those finales pivots on whether this third, isolated person can be trusted, as well as whether that person can trust the pair that claims to be helping. St Germain isn’t a fighter, and goes into the finale clearly terrified as to whether Sypha and Trevor can even keep him safe, while Sypha and Trevor have to take it on faith that St Germain’s intentions are good. (If you take Alucard’s animation to indicate that he has no experience as a lover, then the parallels are even more stark.)

Meanwhile, Isaac – as the captain so insightfully points out – remains fixated on the offenses done him, easily dismissing the kindness of an unexpected gift from a stranger. Hector’s issue, on the other hand, is too much trust, given too easily, with no questions ever asked (as Lenore drives home, first through interrogation and second through manipulation). Isaac’s determination not to trust anyone makes his way more difficult, while Hector’s determination not to question his immediate trust in the latest authority figure is what eventually traps him. 

Even the four vampire sisters (an element I really loved, almost making up for the first two seasons’ near-dearth) pivot around issues of trust, but in their case, it’s whether they can trust that Carmilla’s grand vision is feasible. They don’t distrust Carmilla, or her ideas – they distrust that they can fulfill her visionary plan to its fullest extent. But they’re also intrigued by the idea, and clearly competent enough to make it happen – and despite a few times where it seems there might be fractures (more of Lenore’s diplomatic manipulation, in hindsight), the four really do trust each other pretty firmly.

There’s a secondary theme threaded through the storylines, too, although we only hear it stated explicitly in the Isaac and Trevor/Sypha storylines. 

the captain: “If you don’t have your own story, you become part of someone else’s.”

The context here is whether one’s motivation comes from an external source, or is internal to the person. Isaac’s motivation (at least at the midpoint of this season) is clearly stated as revenge on Hector – that is, to rectify Hector’s wrongs that undid Dracula’s story. Alucard, too, is trapped in someone else’s story, as his motivation first is that he thinks helping two lost souls would please his mother, and later that training new demon hunters would please Trevor. 

Sypha’s motivation is simpler: action! adventure! excitement! And in not stopping to consider the source (or the results) of her motivation, she ends up being accessory to not one but three stories (with Trevor along for the ride). The Trevor/Sypha storyline could be seen, in this light, as one in which they’re tools in other peoples’ stories. They fail to warn/assert/react fast enough to prevent the mad priest’s actions, they learn of (and then tackle) the church problem due to the town mayor’s need, and they learn of (and then tackle) the thing in the basement due to St Germain’s need. 

In the end, St Germain (like Dracula) goes onto the next chapter of his story, with Sypha and Trevor left to handle the aftermath (like Isaac). They don’t even reclaim their story with the final discovery of the mayor’s depravity, as they end up (if understandably) destroying the evidence, as the mayor had requested. 

When Trevor echoes the captain’s words (which could be Ellis wanting to drive the point home, or could imply that at some point, Trevor also met the captain), Sypha deflects his point. She’s quite certain she’s been living her own story, and enjoying it immensely. In the aftermath, Trevor turns the point around, saying that for the past few months, they’ve been living Sypha’s life, all action and adventure. 

Trevor: “And now, we’re living my life.”

Trevor’s origins, after all, lie in the destruction of his family – but that destruction wasn’t at the hands of the demons they fought. Instead, it was at the hands of the church, its people, and the larger community. His storyline in S1-S2 was of someone who’d seen the worst of humanity, and ended up deciding to fight because he chose to, not because humanity deserves it.   

With the possible exception of St Germain (which is more of an open question than a certainty), they trusted and discovered their trust wasn’t misplaced, so much as… that taking everything at face value meant they remained blind to what lay beneath. Their story halts with Trevor reminded of why he originally kept people at a distance (through snark and alcohol), and Sypha now enlightened as to how sometimes humans are far worst monsters. 

That blindness is also present in Alucard’s story, when he takes the two young prisoners-turned-hunters at face value. He opens his house (well, most of it) to them, trains them, and tells them secrets of how to hunt his father’s race. It’s a radical shift from his original reaction to the Belmont hold, as a museum dedicated to the extermination of his race.

Which brings me to Ellis’ choice to have the finales as parallel battles, but he manages to have them reflect each other, as well. For Isaac, Sypha, and Trevor, it’s an external battle against an overwhelming foe. Sypha ends with literal blood on her hands, and other than St Germain’s departure, the rest of their victory is literally pyrric.  

For Hector and Alucard, their storylines peak (ahem) at what should be a moment of trust and connection, which is why I can see the choice to have those storylines turn sexual. (Honestly, I thought the two young hunters were just going to cook Alucard dinner in return, or something – I had zero expectations that any story would ever go there.) 

First, five separate battles would’ve been just a lot of chaos, compared to the contrast of apparent happy-endings (or happy-middles). Second, it drives home that Alucard has defenses all over the place, but none to seduction, while Hector simply clings to whomever is willing to call the shots, and only thinks to question later. They’re in the stage of their story that the captain raises to Isaac: after you’ve achieved this goal, what next? What is left for you? 

Which is why I think their parallel endpoints – Isaac’s final battle, Alucard and the hunters, Hector and Lenore – all come to a head at being bound in some way. They’re still playing out someone else’s story, so they run headfirst into situations where that tunnel-vision can be used against them. Isaac may be the least trusting of the lot, but even he shows a remarkable tendency to take things at face value: to trust the gift from the seller, to listen to the captain, to sit and converse with the old witch who tells him about the possessed city. With as little foreknowledge as Alucard or Hector, Isaac rushes in, eyes too fixed on achieving someone else’s goal to see the trap ahead. 

None of the bindings are shown as simple, easy to break, or without lasting effect. At the same time, it’s striking that Isaac and Alucard do manage to force their way free, while Hector can only flail about in pain. To me – given the theme of trust – that implies that somehow, both Alucard and Isaac do have the potential for a balanced trust. That is (unlike Hector) knowing when to take it away, even if both struggle with learning to give it.

Oddly, that’s why I think the season managed to position things beautifully for a next season, because we’ve come full circle. 

It’s a curious thing about Alucard: when we first meet him in S1, he’s recovering from his father’s betrayal (of attacking humans); in S3, he’s recovering from the grief of loss (his parents, his only two friends) – and S4 ends with him shivering in pain/hurt over the betrayal of two people. Gotta wonder how much more Ellis will see fit to break this character down.

In S2, Hector was a valued lieutenant, if terribly blind to the implications of what Dracula wanted. Now those illusions are gone; he’s enslaved, wanted only for his skills (in the forge and in bed) – and the deal is quite explicit. Lenore has the grace to say that Hector should be getting something out of the deal, but that doesn’t change that Hector can’t pretend there’s no deal being made. 

Isaac begins cast out, grieving Dracula (not entirely as a mission, but more as a friend, I think) – and ends with the resources and experiences to go in a new direction. He doesn’t have to take out Hector, who could be seen as small fry, anyway. (Especially given Hector’s now just a shell of a controlled man.) If Isaac chooses to go after Carmilla in S4, that’ll be the first step towards making his story his own. Note also that although Isaac may seem alone, he’s accompanied by a host of creatures. He has allies.

It’s the trust in those allies that seems to determine who ends well, and who does not. Although Trevor and Sypha (especially Sypha) were dealt an emotional blow by the post-battle revelations, they always had each others’ backs – and they leave the town behind, relatively unscathed. Isaac ends victorious, with a few of his army intact and the material to make more. 

But the storyline that ends in the ascendant position is Carmilla’s. With her visionary ideas and her sisters’ abilities to make those visions real, Carmilla is positioned to go exactly where she wants. Which is why it’s also striking that (other than Lenore’s sex scene), neither Carmilla nor her sisters really have a ‘final’ battle. They’re effectively a season ahead of everyone else – the trust between the four is already established, solid, and reciprocated equally. 

So you could say that being foolhardy about trust will land you in hot water – which pretty much covers all the central protagonists. But the story’s not that bleak, despite its final scenes, because it’s also saying that sometimes, to get where you want to be, you do have to take that leap – as illustrated by Isaac and St Germain. Or even that you trust, and if betrayed, you deal with the consequences, learn the lesson, and move on, like Trevor and Sypha. 

Or you learn a different lesson, one preached by dear old dad: put the bodies of your conquests out front on stakes, and lock the doors, and trust no one. Which is a legitimate reaction to betrayal, don’t get me wrong, but one that S3 seems to be firmly saying will only end badly.  

[incorrectmarvelcast]

I’m binging all two seasons of Castlevania tomorrow and Idk how to feel cos I’ve just seen some weird shite, and my thoughts get hella intrusive when that happens

i dont think you should watch it if you know it will trigger u love 

[virgo-dyke]

i just had a bad intrusive thought and then my brain went to that clip from bdg’s castlevania video where he’s kicking and saying “that was a joke. im not gonna do that” and this is how i cope while my therapist is on holidays

[lantur]

Castlevania: “The Journey,” Part One

Summary: The story of Trevor and Sypha, post season two. [Part one: Trevor and Sypha reunite with Alucard, Sypha and Alucard have a confidential talk, and Sypha helps Trevor with an issue that's keeping him up at night.]

-

Sypha is the one to kill the last vampire in Braila.

It isn’t her most elegant spell. She simply lights him on fire. When it is over, she sinks to her knees where she stands, in the middle of the dark alley. This hadn’t been a fight on the scale of defeating Dracula’s generals, but her exhaustion is cumulative. That had been one explosive fight. This has been close to a week of combat night after night, flushing out every last vampire in the town.

Trevor comes to her side. He eases her to her feet, supporting her with one hand on her back, and the other on her arm. His hands are gentle and warm. She leans against him, weary to the bone. Maybe it’s just her exhaustion getting the better of her, but she wishes he would never let go. “Hey,” he says. “Are you all right?”

Sypha closes her eyes. “I’m tired,” she says, and she means it, from the bottom of her heart. Not just from the past several nights in Braila, but from the three months before this, of ceaseless travel and combat and tension. “I need to rest.”

“We’re done here,” Trevor replies, eyeing the piles of ash in the alley. “We’ll get you to bed. It’s going to be okay. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“Actually,” Trevor adds, as they slowly make their way out of the alley. He’s limping a little, and she resolves to check on the injury later. “You are going to feel better in the morning. You know why?”

Sypha winces, placing a hand to her side. One of the vampires had thrown her hard against a the side of a building, and she’s worried that the rib might be fractured. She’s too worn out to banter with him as they usually do. “Why?”

“Because we are going on a vacation.”

Sypha brightens. “We’re going to see Alucard?”

 “I was thinking more along the lines of those hot springs in Craiova, or that beer festival in Iasi we heard about when we were traveling through last month…” Trevor looks down at her and smiles. “But sure, we can go and see Alucard.”  

She squeezes his arm. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

They’re moving slowly, nursing their various injuries, and it takes them more than forty painful minutes to reach their inn, on the outskirts of Braila. They’re both similar degrees of filthy, dusty, and bloody, but they collapse into the narrow bed fully clothed, shoes still on, curled toward each other, and fall asleep within moments.

-

It takes a week of travel from sunrise to sunset to make their way back to the Belmont Hold and Dracula’s castle. For the first time since setting out on their journey after Dracula’s defeat, they travel at a leisurely pace and don’t go seeking trouble. No demons or monsters to vanquish from towns and cities, just the open road.

It is the break Sypha needed. It is nice to have a brief spell of peace and quiet, a respite from bloodshed and injury. Besides, as naturally as magic comes to her, it does drain her energy and physical reserves. This is the first opportunity she has had to recover fully in a long time.

There is just one reason she misses the thrill of the fight. For months - ever since they met, actually - combat against the monstrous night hordes have been a distraction from her travel companion.

Not that Trevor is so insufferable and obnoxious that she needs to be distracted from him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Sypha has never been prone to crushes. Ever since she was a teenager, she could acknowledge a handsome man with one look, and a brief, clinical observation in her mind that yes, he was attractive. And then she would move on, her mind already occupied with more pressing matters, like a new spell she was studying or creating, or how to modify an old one she had mastered, or her Speaker duties.

She’d only had one real, significant experience with attraction, before. He was a physician in the town of Szolnok. Soft-spoken, kind, passionate about helping the townspeople, and so very intelligent. She had hung onto every word out of his mouth. But she was sixteen, and he was twice her age. When she found out he was engaged to be married, she had cried for the rest of the night and avoided him until the Speakers moved on to their next town. For two months after leaving Szolnok, she had thrown herself into her studies with zealous passion, redirecting every bit of longing she had felt for him into the study of magic.

For four years, Sypha lived in peace, until Trevor Belmont rescued her from a cyclops under the city of Gresit.

It was all downhill from there. She had developed feelings for him, completely by accident, and they had hit her with astonishing force and suddenness. By the time they had spent their first night in the Belmont library, she was already too far gone.

Monsters, demons, and vampires distract her from Trevor’s presence. They distract her from her frustrating, involuntary, ridiculous intrusive thoughts about how he’s feeling today, his voice, his face, his hands, when he smiles, how incredibly brave and determined he is, how smart he can be when he actually makes an effort, how stupidly happy she is just to talk with him and have his company as they travel. Whether they’re trading insults at one another or at the Church, or speculating about what they will encounter in the next village they happen upon and how they can help the people there, or sharing memories and stories of their pasts, or discussing something deeper.

Without the monsters, demons, and vampires, it is just the two of them. Trevor seems relaxed and unbothered. He sleeps more soundly at night than she has ever seen him sleep before, one arm thrown over his face, snoring lightly. Sypha lies awake beside him for a good portion of each night and wonders at the perversity of it all, at how she can be so happy and so filled with hopeless, melancholy longing at the same time.

-

They arrive at Dracula’s castle - Alucard’s castle, now - late on the eighth afternoon of their journey. Trevor and Sypha make their way up the steps of the castle, and Sypha raises her hand to knock politely. Trevor just pulls a knife from a pocket of his cloak and bangs on the door with the handle until Alucard pulls it open.

“I see that Sypha still hasn’t taught you manners,” he says dryly, but the effect is somewhat spoiled by the fact that he is smiling like Sypha has never seen him smile before.

She leaps forward and gives Alucard a hug, and even Trevor manages a companionable pat on his shoulder.

The three of them start talking almost at once and they continue for hours, lingering over a dinner of an enormous roasted chicken, sliced strawberries covered in sugared almonds for dessert, and then drinks. One glass of warm mulled wine for Sypha, a couple of tankards of ale for Alucard, and more than a couple of tankards of beer for Trevor.

She has countless fond memories of nights around the fire with her Speaker caravan. Dinners with Trevor, either huddled around a campfire or shared at some disreputable tavern or another, are more of a treasured part of her daily routine than she would ever admit. But this is comfortable, truly, classically comfortable, in a way that those nights haven’t been. Each of them has a velvet armchair to settle in, not a spot on the ground or a narrow, splintering bench. (Alucard sits upright, like a perfect noble gentleman. Sypha curls her knees to her chest and settles against the back of the chair. Trevor sprawls and slouches in a way that can’t be comfortable, although he looks as content as a cat who has gotten into the cream.) A large fire roars in the hearth, warming her cheeks and hands, and there is no need to retreat into a cloak or blanket for shelter.

“I can’t believe it,” Alucard says, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t believe it if Sypha hadn’t corroborated your story.”

“Your distrust wounds me,” Trevor deadpans, taking a long draft of his beer. “I’m a reliable source all on my own. When have you ever known me to falsify or exaggerate a tale?”

Sypha deliberately looks at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “Oh, about fifteen minutes ago. Our prison guards were little more than pimply teenagers. Hardly as menacing as you painted them.”

Alucard laughs, and Trevor halfheartedly tosses a throw pillow at her. “Quiet, you. One of them certainly looked like he had some troll blood in him.”

“Seriously, though,” Alucard says. “I’m surprised that a human acted with such depravity. Dismembering ten townspeople and scattering their limbs about the village. I would have believed it was a werewolf or a demon from the night hordes, as everyone suspected.”

“We thought so at first too. That it would be a simple matter of finding and destroying the creature. It was only after Trevor and I were framed and arrested that we realized that of course a demon or any of the creatures from the night hordes wouldn’t have the ability to do such a thing.” Sypha shrugs. “And then he slipped up. He made a kill outside of the full moon. It was clear we were looking at a human suspect then.”

Trevor does a mock bow. “Another mystery solved by Belmont and Belnades.”

“Belnades and Belmont,” Sypha corrects, and then plunges ahead before Trevor can whine about it. “Tell me everything that you know about werewolves, Alucard. Trevor didn’t remember anything about them being written in the Belmont library. It wasn’t a werewolf this time, but if we ever encounter another situation where we suspect werewolf involvement, we need to know what to do.”

“Trevor doesn’t remember anything about werewolves in the Belmont library due to memory loss from years of gratuitous alcohol abuse,” Alucard replies, straight-faced. “There are three whole volumes on werewolves in the Sara Wing. Bound in werewolf hide, no less. It’s pretty disgusting. At least your ancestors managed to get the wet dog smell out, Belmont.”

“I have had it with the verbal abuse,” Trevor declares, before draining his tankard to the last drop and standing a bit unsteadily. “And the last thing I want to do is talk werewolves before bed. It may give me nightmares. Should we save this for breakfast?”

Sypha is starting to grow tired, after the long day and the heavy meal. It’s been so nice to catch up with Alucard, though, and she isn’t ready to end the night yet. “I’ll stay down here for a while,” she says, looking up at Trevor. “Good night.”

“Night,” he says, turning away and lifting a hand. “Also, fuck you.”

This last is directed to Alucard. Sypha sighs, and Alucard cheerfully gives Trevor’s back the finger. “Don’t get lost,” he calls.

They hear his slow movement out of the sitting room and up the stairs, and then his footsteps fade from earshot. Alucard glances at her. “Does he really get nightmares?” he asks, lowering his voice. “I couldn’t tell whether he was just being Trevor, or being serious.”

“Yes,” Sypha admits, after a moment. “I think we all do. But I think that Trevor’s pre-date ours.”

Alucard’s face settles into the familiar lines of sadness. “Yes,” he says softly. “That makes sense.”

Sypha reaches over and takes his hand. “How have you been?” she asks. “I’ve thought of you every day. Both of us have, really. Neither of us wanted to leave you alone here. I can’t imagine how hard it must be.”

Alucard looks away, but he doesn’t pull back. “It’s been difficult,” he says, after a long while. The light from the fire casts flickering shadows on his face. “I would like to tell you it’s easier every day, but it’s not quite. Some days, some weeks, it is easier every day. Then the next day, I’ll wake up and I’ll see something that triggers a memory of before, and it’ll be four steps back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sypha whispers, squeezing his hand. She hates feeling so useless, so powerless to help. If there was only a spell she could cast; but this is something even beyond the powers of magic. “Is there anything I can do to help you? If you want to talk, about anything, I will listen.”

Alucard looks back at her, and with effort, he gives her a small smile. “That’s a kind offer,” he says sincerely. But…” he sighs. “I spend enough time with my own thoughts, in my own head. I don’t want to dwell on any of that while I’m in your company…and Trevor’s. I’d rather hear about what’s going on with you.”

He fixes her with a rather perceptive look, then, and Sypha fidgets. “You’ve heard the good stories,” she says. “Although, now that you mention it, I forgot to tell you about this time that Trevor had to pose as a baker in Sebes.”

Alucard raises an eyebrow. “As intriguing as this sounds, that’s not what I was getting at, and you know it.”

Sypha unwittingly channels Trevor and slouches in the armchair guiltily. “I don’t,” she says unconvincingly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, you’re going to make me get embarrassingly specific. What’s going on with you and Belmont?” Alucard asks. “Are you f--”

“No!” Sypha snaps, feeling her face growing hot. “Absolutely not!”

“Okay,” Alucard replies, unfazed. “But you want to be.”

“No!” she protests, and it takes an effort to keep her voice low. The last thing she needs is for Trevor to overhear this conversation. “Not at all! It isn’t like that!”

Alucard rolls his eyes. “Please, Sypha. Don’t insult me by denying it. I’m not blind, or deaf. I see how you two are together. I saw it back when we first found the Belmont library, and you two have been off by yourselves for months now.”

She grabs the pillow that Trevor had tossed at her earlier and squeezes it hard. “Ugh! You’re just as bad as he is!”

Alucard laughs. Sypha groans, burying her face in the pillow and wondering if she could smother herself with it. “Don’t laugh,” she says, muffled by the pillow. “This is embarrassing enough without you rubbing it in.”

“It’s Trevor Belmont you’ve got your eye on. You should be embarrassed.”

Sypha slumps deeper into the pillow. Alucard laughs again, before reaching over and patting her on the shoulder. “I’m just teasing you.”

“I know,” Sypha mumbles, sitting up. She still feels flushed. “There really is nothing going on between us, though. Trevor and I are just friends. As you and I are.”

Alucard looks unconvinced, but he humors her. “You could change that, you know.”

“I think I’ve made my feelings quite clear!” Sypha crosses her arms. “I haven’t been shy or coy about how I feel for him. I haven’t danced around it. I suggested that we travel together, months ago. We walk arm-in-arm, we rest against each other while traveling, we sleep together, literally. And yet--” She bites her lip, fighting a sudden ache in her chest. “Nothing more than that.”

“That’s because Belmont is an idiot. A stone-cold moron. I know you say you haven’t been shy or coy about your feelings, and most normal men would have taken the hint months ago, but again. Belmont is an idiot. You’d probably have to kiss him before he got it.” Alucard rolls his eyes again.”It’s good that that wouldn’t be a problem for a woman as brave as you.”

“I don’t know,” Sypha says quietly, looking into the fire. “I’d be lying to you if I said I hadn’t thought of it. Or been tempted. But - I don’t know.”

Alucard looks at her curiously. “Are you nervous?”

She hears the rest of his sentence, the You’ve fought and defeated the generals of Dracula’s army, and curls into herself defensively. “This - the way I feel for Trevor, the things I feel - it is all very new to me,” she says, making a terse gesture with her hands. “I know that many women my age are mothers. But I have always been more occupied with my studies and with my duties as a Speaker than with boys. Or men.”

 Alucard takes it in. “Ah,” he says, finally understanding. He reaches over and takes her hand in his cool one, and Sypha reluctantly meets his gaze.

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” he says simply. “You remind me of my mother, you know. You’re smart, fearless, determined, passionate, kind, and gifted. And beautiful. That’s clear to anybody who’s spent any time with you, let alone anyone who knows you as Trevor and I do. And Trevor - he’s an idiot, yes. But he knows you, and to know you is to love you. I wouldn’t worry.”

Sypha just looks at him, stunned. Before he can move back, she throws her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alucard,” she whispers.

Alucard pats her on the back. “You can repay me by naming your firstborn after me, no matter how he protests.”

She pulls back, and can’t help but giggle. “We will see.”

Alucard glances at the clock in the corner of the room and winces. “I’ve kept you up way too late,” he says. “I forget that humans need to sleep more than I do. I’m sorry. It’s almost one. Do you want me to walk you back to your room, or do you remember where it is?”

“I remember.” Sypha stands, gathering her blue Speaker cloak from the armchair. She reaches down, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Good night.”

“See you in the morning.”

Sypha makes her way up the grand staircase, shaking out her cloak and wrapping it around her. There’s a chill in the air away from the fire, and her heart aches to think of Alucard wandering this great castle all alone. If she could just find a spell to conceal this place from others’ eyes, and lock the studies and the laboratories and the libraries away from plunderers, then he could travel with her and Trevor. It will be much better for him to have their company all the time, instead of once every few months. Besides, It had been nice to confide in Alucard, to speak her mind openly.

She had loved her Speakers as members of her family, but that being said, there had been no one her age that she had been able to bond with like she had with Trevor and Alucard. It’s a strange thing, to love people but still not quite be able to call them friends, she reflects. Before Trevor and Alucard, the only person she had ever truly confided in, sharing her feelings honestly, was her grandfather.

There’s a light on in the small library in the guest suite, down the hall from her room and Trevor’s. Sypha glances in as she passes, expecting that Alucard must have left it on earlier in the day. She stops dead when she sees Trevor, slouched in an armchair near the lamp, absorbed in a book.

He must have noticed her, because he stops reading and looks over at the entrance. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” Sypha replies nonchalantly, masking a moment of inward panic. There is no way that he could have heard her conversation with Alucard, right? They had kept their voices down. “I thought you were tired?”

“I was. Am.” He carefully marks his page with the black satin bookmark. “Bedroom’s weird, though. I couldn’t get comfortable. I checked out yours, too, to see if I’d have better luck there. Same thing.”  

Sypha frowns. That seems hard to believe. “I’ve seen you sleep like a baby while sharing a stall with livestock in barns,” she says. “What’s wrong with the rooms?”

“See for yourself,” Trevor says. He stands and yawns, before tucking the book under his arm and proceeding out of the library.

Sypha follows, after extinguishing the lamp. “For the record, I resent that you thought of stealing my room.”

“Turnabout is fair play, and all that.” He looks back at her and smirks. “I don’t complain when you steal the blankets at night.”

“I do no such thing!”

Trevor had left the door to his guest room ajar, and he pushes it open, leading her in. The only illumination comes from the fire in the hearth, but that is enough. He gestures expansively at their surroundings. “Yours is the same.”

Sypha takes it in, wide-eyed. It’s a little surreal. The bed is simply massive, covered with not one or two blankets but three, in varying shades of dark blue and gray, and to call them simply blankets would be a disservice. Blankets as she knows them are rough, plain, homespun. She slips her boots off and pads across the room, her feet sinking into the impossibly thick, plush rug that covers the stone floor. She reaches out and brushes her palm across the top blanket. It is incredibly soft and sleek, but heavy at the same time. Just one of them would be more than enough to warm her, and she can’t help but think back to all the nights outside where she’s shivered under three thin blankets.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she says wonderingly. This is even softer than rabbit’s fur. “I’ve heard of it, though. Is this velvet?”

“Yeah, it is.” Trevor comes to stand beside her. He’s very close, and he leans down and presses his palm into the blanket, next to hers. His hand dwarfs hers. “Sit down. Or lie down.”

Sypha settles onto the bed, feeling rather conscious of his presence, but even that can’t distract her from the next shock. “Oh!” she exclaims, startled. It’s like she’s sinking. “It’s like what I thought a cloud would feel like, when I was little.”

Trevor sits beside her. “That’s a good way to put it.”

Sypha stretches her arms out, still feeling a little bemused by the way the bed seems to contour to her body. It’s so soft, so pliant. “What don’t you like about this?” she asks. “It’s very comfortable. It’s more than comfortable, really. This is the definition of luxury.”

“It’s too comfortable.” He grimaces. “It’s too much.”

She sits up. “Explain?”

Trevor shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not used to this,” he says shortly. “I’m used to the ground, sleeping underneath my cloak. Or on a hard bed in some inn. That’s been my life for the past ten years.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “Remember how on edge you were, the first time we slept in an inn? You said you missed looking up to see the moon and the stars. You felt trapped.”

Sypha nods. “I remember.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something, and then falls into a brooding silence. Sypha nudges him. “Hey,” she says. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

Trevor sighs, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. “The last time I slept in a room like this was the night before the mob came for my family,” he says, finally, and she notices the pronounced dark circles under his eyes. “My room, when I was a kid - it looked kind of like this. It felt like this. With the blue velvet blankets and everything. I lay down tonight and I tried to sleep and I just…I couldn’t.”

She embraces him without hesitation. “I’m so sorry, Trevor.”

He rests his chin on the top of her head, and places a hand on her back. “That last night, I think I fell asleep excited about some hunting trip my dad was going to take me on the next day,” he says. He sounds so far away. “I had no idea. No fucking idea.”

Sypha pulls back and looks at him, before resting a gentle hand against his cheek. “There’s nothing worse than thinking about the moment before everything changed,” she says. “ And remembering the person who you were before that moment. In that last night when everything was still normal.”

“Isn’t that the fucking truth,” Trevor replies bitterly. To her surprise, he takes her hand, resting it between both of his own. “What was that moment for you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Sypha swallows over the lump in her throat. “It’s all right,” she says. “I remember the last real conversation I had with my parents, before they sickened with the plague. We argued because they felt I was studying magics that were too advanced for me. They were dead within the week.”

He puts an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “Fuck God,” he says, with his usual succinctness. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

Sypha wipes at the corner of her eyes discreetly. “I agree. Though…”

“What is it?”

“You know that I am not religious,” she says, looking up at him. “But one could argue that the God who so cruelly orphaned you and I, and Alucard, is the same one who led the three of us to find one another.”

“You’re such an optimist,” Trevor grumbles. “Such a ray of sunshine. It’s a little obnoxious.”

She can’t help but smile at hearing him sound more like his usual self. She rises, grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed. “Yes, well, now that I think of it, I have a solution for your little bedroom problem.”

Trevor coughs. “Can you not call it that?”

“If the shoe fits…” Sypha tugs at the top blanket until he moves, and pulls it off the bed. It’s incredibly heavy in her arms, and trails against the ground. “Don’t just stand there and stare. Make yourself useful and take the other pillow.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” Trevor does as she says, and follows her as she makes her way out of the room.

She leads him back to the library, and unceremoniously deposits the pillow and blanket on the large rug in front of the bookshelf. She kneels, straightening the arrangement. “Give me the other pillow.”

He hands it to her, and Sypha looks at her handiwork, pleased. “There you go,” she says. “Now you have a hard floor to sleep on. I brought the blanket because there’s no fireplace in here, but I figured that you can use your cloak as your primary blanket so it feels more familiar.”

Trevor looks at her with an unreadable expression, which is a little unusual. Normally he’s clearly either disgruntled, determined, content, hungry, or troubled, with the occasional contemplative or thoughtful look sprinkled in. “Thank you,” he says.

Sypha wills herself to keep from blushing. “I just wanted you to sleep well. You snipe at poor Alucard so much more when you’re tired.”

Trevor snorts. “Poor Alucard, my ass.” He settles down on the floor, stretching out with a sigh and looking much more comfortable. He closes his eyes, and then cracks one open to look at her. “Well, are you coming to sleep or not? You snipe at poor me so much more when you’re tired.”

“Oh, I--” Sypha starts, flustered. They sleep together outside to stay warm, and they share a bed when they stay at inns because they can only ever afford one room and neither of them is going to sleep on the floor. But she has a perfectly serviceable room here, but now that she thinks about it, maybe it would feel strange to sleep away from Trevor after months of sleeping beside him. She’s surprised he even asked, and he’s looking at her expectantly.

“I thought you didn’t like how I supposedly steal blankets,” she manages to recover, settling down beside him as casually as she can. Trevor offers her a portion of his cloak, and she pulls the velvet blanket over both of them.  

“I don’t. But the way you talk in your sleep kind of helps me fall asleep. Distracts me from the internal monologue of the grim business of saving Wallachia from the forces of evil, and all that.”

“Happy to be of service.”

They rest in companionable silence for a while. Trevor’s presence is as warm, solid, and reassuring at her side as it always is, and Sypha is on the verge of falling asleep when he speaks.

“You always are,” he says. “I don’t tell you this enough, Sypha, but you’re a great friend. The best I’ve ever had.”

Maybe not quite the words she dreams of hearing, but they warm her heart nevertheless. She turns her head to the side, resting it against his shoulder. “So are you, Trevor.”

Trevor places his hand on hers, another surprise, and she drifts off to sleep with a small smile on her face.

-

to be continued

-

[nukenai]

Is it too personal to ask what trigger/s you're referring to in the castlevania post? I'm not sure if you follow me tbh but I can tag it anyway then to be safe?

It’s super upsetting and actively triggering for me to explain it to people, but I feel like people are owed an explanation of my problems so I always do it anyways. It’s not particularly Castlevania obviously (tho simon’s outfit is pretty fucking upsetting let’s be real, put some pants on dude)

Anyways. My phobia is basically everything to do with the circulatory system. Certain words literally make me feel faint. Just typing this shit is upsetting me but here’s some examples: getting my blood drawn at the doctor is impossible. I got blood work done twice in one year due to health problems and my doctor figured I was ok with it (as 99.9999% of the earth is) but when she suggested it again, I broke down fucking crying in her office and begged her not to. I told her I was trying to be strong about it, it’s not just an “ew i don’t like getting this done!” thing cause no shit, but even getting my BLOOD PRESSURE taken has caused me to almost PASS OUT during a doctor’s visit. As in, nurses put me on a stretcher and did not let me get up for 20 minutes level of serious.

So really my problem is vampires and everything about them. Pretty obviously why. And like I said it’s not just the game, it’s everything about them. they’re a popular mythical creature so people will go on and on about posts about them, often detailing The Stuff They Do so much that it’ll trigger the shit out of me. A tumblr post caused me to be ill for a whole day once because of it just suddenly being on my dashboard (and not having a blacklist on mobile is a huge problem). Like i see the words, my brain basically laser-focuses on them, and I can never get them out of my head, usually for the rest of my life (things are stuck in my head, sequences of words, from over a decade ago that will randomly pop up and trigger me because I have intrusive thoughts and cannot actually control the images/etc in my head most of the time)

The word “blood” in general doesn’t tend to upset me, nor does stuff like, fanart with mild blood. But seeing it a LOT can start to upset me, like it stacks and just slowly chips away at me. I cannot watch shows with any level of gore or violence most of the time, ESPECIALLY if it’s live action (not that I watch any live-action shows anyways.... moooostly because of this fear). I am not very squeamish toward Just Regular Ol’ Blood irl. I am quite accident-prone and usually wind up self-treating minor injuries so yeah.

I feel like with Castlevania it’s 100% an overstimulation thing right now. Normally I’m fine cause how fuckin often did people talk about castlevania around me. Never. But now everyone’s talking about it so it’s like every little thing adding up. It sounds so stupid typing it out because like “nuke it’s a video game chill”. TRUST ME, I WISH I COULD.

This got really long and rambly but I do want people to know. Like the words “vein”, “artery”, “blood vessel”, anything to do with that, any in-detail discussion of bleeding (especially internally) or surgery, talking about the heart, those graphic-as-fuck anti-smoking commercials that come out of nowhere (I WILL NEVER SMOKE PLEASE STOP THESE COMMERCIALS ARE MAKING ME ALMOST FAINT)... And seeing an IV is a good way to make me wind up on the floor. ESPECIALLY any kind of IV. Any hospital scene in a show or movie. AT ALL (got way worse after my mom was in the hospital, then hospice, then dead, so)

It is so difficult to honestly just live like this when these topics are, for some fucking reason, so goddamn popular. I’ve been made fun of for it my whole life, everyone assumed it was just the “ew gross” level of me not liking it, I’ve had my trigger words screamed in my face and then I’ve been laughed at (by family members). It’s not a fun experience and I wish it on no one.

Thank you for asking and I hope this clears this up to my followers that get to see it. I’m obviously not gonna be reblogging this as a PSA or anything, or put this info in my “about”, since it doesn’t come up TOO often and if it does I need to gather the courage but I’m usually able to ask people to Please Not.

tldr to be safe please don’t talk to me about anything even remotely related to blood, or vampires. please

[dxmnedbloodlxst]

"A pity~ There were some lovely candles hanging up. I do wonder what happened to those," he prodded sarcastically, knowing Simon had certainly broken them on his first runthrough of Castlevania. "Perhaps some barbarian came in and smashed them all again~" He teased Simon, hoping it hid the chill he got at hearing his first name come from the Belmont's mouth. An intrusive thought in his mind wished Simon would refer to him as that from then on, though he doubted it.

He folds his arms behind his back, smirking down at Simon. "Indeed you could, though I can't guarentee that it wouldn't be the castle rearranging itself just to keep you lost," he laughs, leading the way to the library. "But come along, I promise none of my books will be attacking you this time around~"

He stops for a moment, looking back at him over his shoulder, "Although.... If any of them whisper to you.... Do not answer, they are quite cursed."

dxmnedbloodlxst‌:

“You do not have to remind me~,” Vlad chuckles at Simon’s comment, “I know very well you planned to leave here with my blood upon that cursed whip once more.”

He shut the door than Simon peaked through, surprisingly not seeming to mind having the Belmont poke around his home. At least he wasn’t tearing through and smashing everything for the time being.

His face sullied a bit at the question. “Not exactly, no. Castlevania and I are quite carefully linked. It cannot exist without me, therefore it shares a sort of….. Physical symbolism for my state of mind.

"I suppose for you Belmonts, it must seem as though Castlevania is always swarming with monsters, but… This is not so. I can summon them at will, but the castle will always change with my state of mind. Some days, when I am low and alone, loud rain will fall through leaks in the room and cracks in the walls and the monsters patrol the premises. But in… Happier days long past, the Castle would be in pristine condition, warm and inviting. Not a single monster nor dark corner to be had…”

Dracula sighs slightly, the hanging lonely atmosphere returning to the halls as if on queue. “Those days are no longer here, though, so…. The empty, cold hallways you see now are like this on the best of days for me….”

A small part of Vlad wondered….. If Simon were to stay long in Castlevania…. Would it restore itself to the beautiful space it used to be when she was with him….? The vampire smothered these thoughts quickly, though, lest they add to the dull pink already on his cheeks.

   “I should be flattered you are not sending swarms of the undead after me… but I find these halls boring.” Oh, Simon… ever-so-honest. He glanced over his shoulder for Dracula, before slowing his course to veer off towards another door that he peered-inside with just as much hidden curiousity as before. This time, he took a second longer before moving-on.

   “It may be my fault that I haven’t the chance to find interest with instruments. I know how to fight and that is the extent of it. Surely this is no surprise to you, Lord Vladislav. There is a reason you believe my ancestors and I are savages.” He mulled-over the earlier point, however, eyes casting themselves down to the floor before he slowed and turned to face Dracula. 

If there was one thing Simon occasionally enjoyed that Dracula did as well, it was reading. “Take me to your library. Without a goal, I could travel these halls for years and reach no place.” Large and empty, like he’d recently concluded Dracula himself was.

Simon hadn’t quite concluded just how lonely Dracula was, however, that he would already be considering his new human roommate to be a potential reason for his contentedness. 

He wasn’t an especially-affectionate man (or so he thought…) but he did feel something more than pity for Dracula, with his sad tone… His brow drew-together, thinking about it.