#cw toxic family

[bonefall]

what is the crow/night/breeze family dynamic like in this au? you've mentioned crowfeather being the one still emotional over leafpool so that would definitely affect breezepelt, but im curious of the wider scale of it. love this au btw!

I'm trying to infuse more nuance into all three of them like they're a cold brew tea.

HOLD UP THOUGH; let me be CLEAR!! I don't think Nightcloud has done anything wrong in canon (besides the rebellion which they forgor about anyway). I do not like how the narrative put a lot of blame on her in Po3/OotS/field guides when her greatest sin was... loving her child.

So in BB she is going to do bad things because we support women's wrongs <3

NIGHTCLOUD

I keep going back and forth on when she was born, if she was nabbed as a kit after the WindClan Massacre or if she was a young warrior during the BloodClan battle.

In either case, she is the sister of a cat named Tawnyfur, and their Mi is Hillrunner. They were born to Hillrunner's identical twin Downwind, but she was killed during TPB.

Hillrunner was incredibly traumatized by the horrors. She was obsessed with strength and phobic of ShadowClan for her entire life.

If you met Hillrunner, you'd think Nightcloud was a sweetheart in comparison (and she will be)

Tawnyfur was killed in the BloodClan battle.

Nightcloud hated Tallstar agreeing to trade with them, and she was easily recruited by Mudclaw based on her fury at Leo, Snapper, and Spagbol joining WindClan.

When they got to the Lake, Nightcloud joined Mudclaw's Rebellion. She spoke out against involving cats of other Clans in the cause, but fell in line quick.

The rebellion sabotauged a muirburn. The controlled burn became uncontrolled FAST.

I think she wanted to blame the cats like Hawkfrost for how far it went, but after the rain doused the flames and WindClan had to keep putting out smouldering peat fires, she realized it didn't look good to keep blaming others.

Plus how Mudclaw got smote. THAT put fear of StarClan into her

So it wasn't neccesarily out of regret that she apologized for her role and begged forgiveness, but a mix of guilt, fear, and genuine desire to fix the collateral damage.

I think she did take Crowfeather as a mate for reputation purposes, but she did also like him and want a mate. It wasn't an Honor Siring, for her it was more of an "arrangement" which she hoped would strengthen

She wanted to prove her loyalty, but also that she is a good and loving cat.

When Breezekit came around, she tried her hardest to be a good mom. She really didn't want to be like Hillrunner.

But she hadn't worked through anything else. Still had a distaste for Brushblaze, Snapstorm, and Cranberrysplash. Strongly valued strength and aggression. Only approved of Onestar when he pushed for violence and rejected the notion that you can trust cats of other Clans.

Breezepelt struggles with it for most of Po3, because he gets very close to the Three and considers them friends. But when the reveal drops, he believes she was right all along

I don't know how to preserve it yet but I do want Nightcloud to keep the housecat friend she makes in CT. Eventually.

Basically... she's dealing with a lot of anger of her own, not really knowing how to sort it, following along with what she was taught.

And Breeze inherits many of those problems.

CROWFEATHER

Significantly different from canon. Not aloof; dramatic

He's also a REALLY good cook. He was Mudclaw's apprentice and it shows.

I'm actually going to wrap him up in the rebellion. He endorsed Mudclaw's claim over Onestar-- and over the word of Brambleclaw.

But he snitched and fetched help on the night of the sabotauge.

After that and then Leafpool, he was also looking for a way to boost his reputation. Having kits was a way to do that, and he's a cat who was chosen by StarClan to go on a great journey, son of an old deputy and a new deputy, with an honor title, who ran to fetch help and thwart the assassination attempt.

He knows he is a bit controversial but also that he is undeniably a big shot. And he's not going to pretend like he's not proud of that. He's not even 5 and hasn't even had an apprentice but he's the most significant cat in WindClan

So when Breezekit comes along? He should be grateful. But he's not, he's a snot nosed little brat (child) who backtalks (child) to his own father (adult)

And he sure doesn't appreciate Nightcloud always trying to fight him. How dare she tell him how to be a Ba?

She won't let him BE involved in the way he wants, turning his kit against him, this is all her fault.

"If it wasn't for her, Breezepaw would know discipline!"

The whole world is out to get Crowfeather and anything bad that happens around him is someone else's fault.

So obviously the mateship falls apart fast.

He doesn't respect anything about Breezepelt, and blames all of his kid's problems on Nightcloud.

In a furious fight, he likes to compare Nightcloud to his other lovers. He says Feathertail, even if he IS talking secretly about Leafpool, because she is dead and can't confirm it, and it always hurts Nightcloud to be compared to an outsider.

This is an exhausting person to be around, and the boost in status and resulting ego makes him insufferable in contrast to the young warrior he was on the Sundrown Patrol.

After the Secret Reveal though, when Leafpool is stripped of her Cleric status and Crowfeather starts talking openly about his love, it is the LAST straw with Onestar. He rips his warrior name off and exiles him for a month-- begone CROW, NO SUFFIX. No you're not going back to CrowFOOT either. Not even an entire Dishonor Title. Just Crow.

He does start improving after that, but he needed a drastic punishment

BREEZEPELT

The kid was only born as a status symbol. Do you blame him for being a special kind of messed up?

He really cannot remember a time where his parents weren't fighting. Never liked it when Crowfeather did parental duties either. Kids are really sensitive to bad vibes.

Was, and still is, really close to his mom. But he always spent a lot of time with his buddies.

Harepaw, Kestrelpaw, Breezepaw, and Heatherpaw were the oldest apprentices in WindClan, the first ones born in the new territory. They all hung out together, except Kestrelpaw who was in Cleric training as soon as possible. Not even 6 moons.

When he's in a good environment, Breezepelt really shines. He isn't like Crowfeather says he is, he's actually fine at making friends and getting along.

When Crow or Night are around, he will often noticeably get more rude and xenophobic, eyes darting back at them like he's looking for approval. Night is always approving of this and giving light chuckles, Crow will engage in it too, but snap if he feels like Breeze embarassed him somehow.

When they go away it's like it drains out of him.

His worst choices in BB always go back to him being pretty desperate for approval, snapping between idealizing people or thinking they're the absolute worst.

So yeah. It's a screwey little dynamic. They hate Crowf, Crowf hates them, the arrangement was massively based on status, Breezekit was always in an unstable environment from the get-go, Nightcloud did contribute to Breezepelt's mindset especially post-reveal.

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites

I’ve been playing Symphony of the Night randomized for months, and rewatching some stuff from the anime, this series has had me in a choke hold. I’ve had a thing for Dracula for Y E A R S and the first season of the anime did not help (Even if I have my gripes with that adaption). Unfortunately, there is very little Dracula x reader content out there, and I can only reread it all so many times. o(TヘTo) I also started writing this a bit before the Dead Cells x Castlevania crossover was announced, so that only fueled my motivation to write this. This series is also going to ignore some stuff in canon like some stuff in Aria and Dawn of Sorrow. Canon is just a sandbox and I’m making a castle. I hope you all enjoy the start of this new series! This is part 1, and is mostly setting up the scene for the story. Hopefully there will be more to come! Apologies if this chapter is a little messy. (❁´◡`❁) Summary: When you decide to take a vacation to get away from a toxic home life, you just expect a few days of relaxation to revitalize yourself. However, you didn’t exactly plan on finding the castle belonging to your family’s arch nemesis. Especially when he should be dead for the next century... CW: Reader is a Belmont, Anxiety and anxiety attacks, brief mentions of past trauma, mentions of toxic home life, increasing stress, death mention, paranoia and confusion, you’re safe though don’t worry. Word Count: 6016 words! First: Here! Next: Link

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All you had wanted was a break.

You wanted, no, needed to get away for a week. Simply put, your home-life had become unbearable once again.

Normally, you at least tried to plan ahead when you wanted to take a break away from home, but things had been piling up. You knew if you didn’t get out, you were going to crash and burn again, and that was the last thing you needed as of late.

So early in the morning, before anyone else in your home had awoken, you packed a few small bags, and loaded up your vehicle.

You left a note on your kitchen counter for your relatives, and quickly left. If you thought too much about it, you’d start feeling guilty again, and stay behind.

Thankfully, the quiet car drive had been a welcome one, every mile further away from your home only seemed to lift the stress off of you little by little.

It took a while to get to your destination, but a few hours were nothing to you, considering your profession.

When you have to go on hunts across the country, and occasionally around the world, you learn to get used to the long travel time.

The trip to your current destination had always been worth it, though.

It was a small cabin out in the countryside. Your family had purchased some of the land a few generations ago, and it was a sort of vacation spot, at least until recent years.

Not many family members knew about the property anymore. Your late mother had been one of the few that knew about it, and had still used it. When she was alive, she took you often as a kid to get a break from your training.

You had nothing but fond memories of the place.

The little cabin and surrounding wildlife had become more than just a place with fond memories as of late. It had also become a safe haven.

When things got rough at home, it became a habit to take off to said little safe haven.

So here you were.

The cabin was the same as you had left it, not that it ever changed.

You walked through the overgrowth on the porch, and pushed through the front door. The inside was just as old and dusty as you remembered leaving it a few months ago.

Despite the layer of dust, it still looked well kept and comfortable. Just like you liked it.

Lugging your bags through the entry, you let out a sigh as you made your way through the small cottage. When you entered the living area, you unenthusiastically dropped your bags to the floor, and fell onto the couch with a loud sigh.

You didn’t do anything for a while, simply staring at the ceiling as you sat, your thoughts fast, but your head feeling empty. Overwhelmed, but dissociative.

It was like this every time you came here, but you could finally breathe.

No yelling, no arguing, no working your days away with chores at a house. If you were lucky, there wouldn’t even be hunting involved. Just pure, unbothered peace.

A scoff left your mouth at the thought.

“Some Belmont I am…” You muttered to yourself. What Belmont doesn’t like going hunting? Your aunts and uncles probably still jump at the chance to do so, and your step family would already be out the door with weapons in hand.

You didn’t hate hunting. But nowadays, you were beginning to dread doing it.

Either you were hunting all the time, especially on trips that were long and hard on you, or you were at home, forced to play housekeeper half the time. Anytime there was a hint of a possibility of a monster near your city, your step family took the job. They essentially barred you from doing anything nearby, only having you do the tedious jobs.

As much as you liked traveling, you didn’t like doing it for a hunt that might be a bust half the time. When you arrived at your destination, either the monster was long gone, never existed, or was already killed by a local hunter instead.

It’s become a drain on your personal finances, and a drain on your energy. Especially since you were always ‘expected’ to come right back home. Didn't matter if you were an adult, they needed their precious servant back.

“What a joke…” You huffed, before closing your eyes.

Attempting to relax, you took in the scent of the area, listening to the slight breeze and wildlife from outside.

There was so much going on in your head, but the cabin was already helping, you could tell. Despite your thoughts, your body was already beginning to lose tension.

This was just what you needed.

You waited a few more minutes, taking everything in, before you got to work. Getting up, you grabbed your few bags, and hauled them off into a bedroom. You dropped them on the bed, and moved to the closet, looking for something specific you had left behind years ago.

Opening the closet, you pulled out an old backpack, and brought it to your bed. With memorized ease, you opened your bags, and tossed a few things in.

It’s not like you’d need a lot for a hike. Just a few snacks, some water, and a few weapons just to be safe.

You weren’t exactly afraid of monsters showing up, but being who you were, you couldn't afford to be too careful.

Chances were you’d be fine. Monsters were incredibly rare on this stretch of land, and the wildlife tended to keep to itself.

You paused though when you gripped The Vampire Killer. The whip that had been in your family for centuries.

Would you really need this for a hike to clear your head…?

You stared at it for a moment, battling with yourself in your head. You took it just about everywhere. Not so much for hunting, but so it wouldn’t end up in anyone else's hands.

Eventually, you came to a decision, and placed the whip to the side. The whip was safe here at the cabin, and you had several weapons. It would be fine. You would be fine.

With your mind made, you finished packing your backpack, and slung it over your shoulder, before heading for the front door of the cabin.

The door locked shut behind you, and you set out in a random direction. It was still early in the day, just around noon, you figured you could go out by the mountains. You raised a hand up to the sky, wincing at the light.

“The shade should be perfect to come back this way by 5….” you mumbled, and got to walking.

You wouldn’t be out longer than a few hours. By the time you got back, you could make something light to eat, and catch up on some reading, if you were lucky.

Wandering around, you followed a few paths, before turning around the base of a smaller mountain. You knew the area well, but still enjoyed venturing out and exploring.

Especially as of late, the beauty and nature of the area was an amazing way to clear your head and de-stress.

The walk was nice, and you swore you remember a lake being in the area. If you could find it once again, it would be the perfect place for a picnic.

It had only been an hour of walking when you turned the corner of the base of the mountain, where you normally would have been able to see the lake.

Something felt a little bit off, though. Despite the weather forecast being clear for the day, the sky seemed to be clouding up the further you walked. Then the further you walked, the more on edge you felt. It was as if you were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.

However, instead of a beautiful lake surrounded by a forest and mountain range, you were met with a sight that made your stomach drop.

Out across the edge of the lake, just past the tree line, was a humongous castle. One you distinctly remember not being there in the first place.

Lightning occasionally flashed around it, and you could hear the thunder in the distance. Despite how dreadful the dark clouds looked above it, the weather almost seemed deadly calm. It faintly reminded you of the eye of a storm.

You felt sweat beginning to form all over you, and you swallowed thickly as you stared at the ominous structure. Your hands shook, and you were finding it hard to stand.

Dracula’s Castle.

There was no doubt about it. You had learned about this castle your whole childhood, and understood what its presence meant.

Sitting down on the grass beneath you, you took a shaky breath. If you stood any longer, you were worried you would faint.

How was this possible? Dracula hadn’t been vanquished for that long…. Right before you had been born, if you remember correctly.

Has someone resurrected him? Or was someone trying to take his power? You had heard of both scenarios happening, and you weren’t sure which one you wanted to be true.

Hell, you knew it was possible for Dracula to be revived just a few years after being defeated, if someone powerful enough wanted to.

But if you were being honest… You hadn’t expected Dracula to be back in your lifetime, or at least in your youth. You had somewhat hoped it wouldn’t be your problem.

You didn’t exactly want the fate of the world resting on your shoulders.

It had been something you had feared since you learned the truth of your lineage. That Dracula may very well come back, and you, or your future kids may need to step up and defeat him. That you might have to be the one to save the world from destruction.

Licking your lips, you tightly gripped a strap from your backpack till your knuckles went white, and looked up at the sky.

“Hey God? Why me?” you asked, genuinely serious.

As expected, you received no answer, just another flash of lightning and clap of thunder in the distance.

Your eyes then landed back on the castle, and you let out a nervous sigh.

You knew you needed to check it out, despite the feeling of dread in your gut.

As you got up though, a sudden thought struck the back of your mind.

The Vampire Killer was back at your cabin, almost an hour away.

Groaning loudly, you couldn’t help but smack your face in frustration.

“Of course! The one time, the one time-! Of all times to have decided not to take the whip with me!” You cursed, frustration building in your chest alongside the anxiety.

Yeah, you could go back to the cabin and go grab it, but that would be wasting possible precious time.

“Okay… So, it’s not the end of the world… Yet… People have defeated Dracula before without the Vampire Killer. Not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, to you at least. This was huge. Dracula could be planning to attack humanity at any moment, and the best weapon against him was sitting snugly on your pillow back at your cabin.

You sighed.

Still, as you watched the castle in the distance, you couldn’t help but notice something odd.

You didn’t see any monsters. Hell, you didn’t see any bodies outside the front of the gate. Didn’t Dracula have monsters all over his castle, inside and out? Not to mention all the stories you had heard, involving impaled corpses that tended to sit outside the castle every other resurrection.

It was quiet.

No monsters. No bodies. No Dracula.

It made you feel sick, like you were waiting for something to attack you from just around the corner.

But the attack had yet to come.

You weighed in your options. Could you really just leave and go back to the cabin? How were you so sure nothing was watching you right now? What if something followed you back, and found your cabin?

Another thought suddenly hit you like a freight train.

Just how long had Dracula’s castle been here?

It has been over a year since you last checked out this lake. The castle was in the perfect place to remain hidden from view at the cabin, being behind a mountain. The castle could have been here this whole time, just an hour away from you, and you were never the wiser.

The very thought sent chills throughout your body. Just how close to death had you been this whole time?

You felt like you were going to hurl.

As much as you want to leave, and puke from the overwhelming emotions, you force yourself to stand your ground.

You had to investigate.

It wasn’t up for debate. As much as you would like to throw excuse after excuse until it was nighttime, you did not have that luxury.

You came to a decision.

The most important thing you could do right now is head into the castle and check things out. You had some weapons on you, so it wasn’t like you were going in defenseless.

If push comes to shove, you could always make a hasty retreat, and head back over to the cabin. There you could grab The Vampire Killer, and return after regaining your strength.

Was it the best plan? No. But right now, any plan was better than nothing.

A thought passed through your mind as you took a step forward.

Should you call for backup?

You had your father and step brothers, and even your uncle and aunt. Quick, you pulled your phone out, only to sigh in frustration.

“No service. Figures.”

You should have guessed. There was just barely usable service at the cabin, why would there be any out here in the wilderness?

Looks like it was all you. No help was coming for you.

If you died… You doubted help would come for you as well. Your family would probably only come looking for your equipment, if anything. The chances of them looking for you, especially here at this lake, were slim. There wasn’t a question in your mind that they would miss the castle.

Just like you had for who knows how long.

Gripping your phone for a moment, you sighed, before shoving it back in your pocket.

Calling was no use. It really was just you against the forces of evil.

“So much for an uneventful, relaxing trip…” You mumbled, and reached into your bag. Pulling out a dagger, you gripped in your hand for a few moments, before finally heading towards the castle.

The walk towards the looming castle wasn’t as long as you had hoped it to be. All the while, it also felt like it lasted an eternity.

Must have been the impending doom and anxiety, which only increased with each step you took.

Why hadn’t you come across any enemies? So far, just like you had seen from afar, there were no monsters.

Even as you quickly approached the gate, you saw no adversaries. No undead armies. No wolf men ready to tear you to shreds.

Just an old, rusted looking gate.

You couldn’t help but wonder, what was Dracula’s game? In nearly every journal you’ve read with family members in the past hunting him down, his castle is filled with enemies of all sorts. Even at the gate, monsters are usually ready to attack.

Yet, it was quiet.

For a few moments, you could only stare. It was now or never, and you couldn’t exactly ignore the fate of the world.

Gently pushing at the massive iron looking gate, you were surprised at how easy the door gave way. It slowly opened with a loud squeak of the hinges, stopping just a few feet forward, waiting for more force to push it forward.

You were a bit dumbstruck.

Was it really that easy? You weren’t going to lie, when you approached the gate, you assumed you may have to find another way in, or some obtuse way of opening it.

Peeking your head in, your eyes widened at just how… empty the courtyard was.

There were a surprising number of plants and trees, sure, but other than that? The only sign of movement there was, was the plants moving from the wind.

It was ominous. The lack of any life, or undead rather, made your hair stand on end.

A low rumble of thunder went off above you, and you looked up at the dark sky. Despite being early in the afternoon, it felt so late with the clouds surrounding the area like this.

It was fitting, you supposed.

Steeling your nerves, you pushed the door open further, and stepped into the courtyard. Each step had you on edge, with you anticipating an attack that never seemed to come.

That didn’t stop you from keeping an eye out though.

Approaching the door to the castle was more or less the same as the gate. Though it wasn’t any less daunting. The doors towered over you all the same, and did nothing to quell your nerves.

“...Should I knock?” You mumbled to yourself, before shaking your head.

“Stupid… It’s a Vampire Lord’s castle, who of which I’m supposed to vanquish. ‘Should I knock…’ what a dumb question.” you grumbled to yourself. Though at this point, it felt like you were stalling.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open, fully expecting an attack.

But once again, you were completely surprised to see an empty entry hall.

“...Now this is definitely weird.” You mumbled, carefully eyeing the long, dimly lit hall.

You pushed past the door, and let out a small squeak as it shut behind you. The grip you had on your dagger tightened, and you shuddered at how the temperature seemed to drop.

It was cold. Unnaturally cold.

The air was stagnant, and hardly cold itself, but something about the area was nearly sapping your warmth. Was it your nerves? Or just some aspect of the castle being supernatural?

Perhaps it was the strange nerve wracking loneliness that seemed to echo with each step down the hall?

Either way, something was not right about the castle, and it wasn’t just the fact it was a being of Chaos.

It was the fact that the further you walked in, you were encountering nothing.

The courtyard and entry all weren’t the only empty areas. The large open room you entered after that had also been empty, along with the hallway and stairway after that.

Not a monster in sight.

There wasn’t even any sign of life in this place. Sure, you hadn’t encountered anything yet, but every room you entered, every hall you cleared…

It was as if nothing was here in the castle.

You weren’t going to lie. You were starting to have doubts about this being Dracula’s castle.

But at the same time, there wasn’t any explanation for this place otherwise.

Not to mention, the air in this place wasn’t normal. There was an underlying power in the air. The same kind that made your hair stand on end. The same kind that made the air feel colder than what it was.

What castle could feel this way, besides Castlevania?

“Still… none of this makes any sense…” you mumbled to yourself as you cleared another empty room. At this point, you were both extremely nervous, and incredibly frustrated.

You had combed through several parts of the castle at this point. It was getting late, and you were getting nowhere. Already you had been through what looked like an art gallery, passed by a library, and pressed on through a giant dining hall.

As you neared another set of stairs, you could only run a hand through your hair in irritation and stress.

Despite how much ground you have covered, you found no sign of this place being lived in. You only had so much daylight left, and you were beginning to feel like you were investigating a weird, lost cause.

Still, you persevered. If there was a throne room, you at least wanted to check it out. If you didn’t find anything, you would come back another day more thoroughly prepared.

And if you found something? Well…

You could hope for the best. Maybe if Dracula is there, he would be weak? It would make sense, given the lack of life and monsters in the castle. If he was weak, you wouldn’t have to worry about not having your whip, you hoped.

If not… Well, you could run away. Despite the lack of weapons on you, you still had a few tricks up your sleeve. You didn’t live this long as a monster hunter without learning a few ways to give yourself a back door for a fast escape.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard to figure out where the throne room was. It tended to be high up in the castle in nearly every iteration your ancestors talked about in journals.

Still, as you came across a final staircase leading up to a separate tower of the castle, you couldn’t help but be more on edge than ever before. The clouds circled above you, occasionally cracking off lightning and thunder uncomfortably close by.

“It really feels like I’m about to be in some final showdown from a movie…” You mumbled as you approached the door, your dread pooling in your gut.

However, much like the growing trend of this castle, you noticed something odd.

The door to the throne room was open, and creaked on its hinges. It was as if it was half hazardly pushed away by someone running out the room.

You briefly wondered if that was a bad sign or not.

Going against the little voice in your head telling you to turn back, you pushed past the door and walked in.

The first thing you took note of, despite the poor lighting from outside, you could see just how huge the room was. You could easily imagine it being big enough for a battle, or a council meeting.

Then there were the giant windows that occasionally lit up the room whenever lightning strikes. Some were even open, clacking open and closed from the wind outside, said wind occasionally pushing the curtains back every so often.

It certainly added to the creepy atmosphere.

Finally, there were the two most glaringly obvious parts of the throne room. The giant throne on top of a set of stairs, and what looked to be a statue kneeling in front of it.

You could only stare in silence. The tension you felt in the air was so thick, you felt it could snap at any moment like a stretched out rubber band.

Your curiosity pushed over your fear, and you found yourself walking forward. Each footstep echoing through the chamber, the sounds of your steps bouncing off the walls.

Coming to a stop a few feet away from the throne and the statue, you couldn’t help but feel… odd at the sight. A mixture of fear, dread, curiosity and intrigue turned in your gut as you stared down the statue.

It was Dracula.

Or at least… You thought it was Dracula.

The statue was big, despite the figure kneeling on one knee in what looked like pain or exhaustion. A hand gripping his gut, while another reached forward, clawed fingers pointing towards you. A cloak seemed to wrap around his body, but it hardly hid his large form.

The head was… a lot of things.

His face was hauntingly beautiful, much like you had come to expect from vampires. What was his hair seemed to beautifully frame his face, with his mustache and beard only adding to the charm.

However, under the beauty, you could see traces of what he really was. A monster.

Despite his handsome features, his face was contorted in what looked like a pained snarl. His fangs were bursting forth, large and ready to pierce.

And his eyes… His eyes were wide open, the whites a darker shade than the iris, which only added to his supernatural and inhuman look.

The room was silent, and you felt your blood run cold, despite the sweat on your skin.

It was Dracula, no doubt about it, but…

Why was he a statue?

Tentatively, you took a few steps forward, but still kept your distance.

You studied the statue a bit more, rounding it cautiously. After a few moments, you carefully stepped forward, and poked the shoulder, before jumping backwards.

Pure stone.

Your hands fell to your sides. It really was just a statue.

“Unbelievable.” You mumbled, confusion and disbelief clear in your voice.

Just what was going on? The castle was here, so in theory, so should Dracula. Not a statue of the guy.

“Unless…” You murmured, putting a hand along your chin in thought.

Dracula being turned to stone somehow… Perhaps that was the reason the castle was like this?

It made sense, the more you thought about it.

“It’s as if the whole castle is asleep…”

If Dracula was technically alive, but out of commission, then it would make sense. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you were still surprised you weren’t seeing some of his more powerful supporters. Surely you would have at least seen Death by now?

The deity was loyal to its master, appearing even when Dracula had not always been in control. So where was Death, or any other powerful monsters that no doubt would support the Lord?

Perhaps being petrified like this, also cut ties with his presence to those powerful monsters? He simply seemed asleep to them, or not fully revived. If he wasn’t fully around, or at least enough for any of his powerful generals to sense him, they simply did not know he was here.

Other than that, it was the only explanation you had.

It still made you nervous and uncomfortable though.

You continued to eye the statue. Was Dracula dead, or was he aware? What had happened to lead to this?

Thinking hard, you tried to remember everything your mother had told you about the last time Dracula had appeared. It was a long time ago, and your mother had only heard about what had happened from another family member.

Didn’t she mention that the Belmont who defeated Dracula last say something about a curse?

You cursed your poor memory, which had been worsening with your own health as of late. Shaking your head with a sigh, your frown deepened.

Still, even if you didn’t know all the details, this could easily have something to do with said curse you were briefly told about all those years ago.

Biting your lip, you placed your hands on your hips, unsure what to do, or where to go from here.

Obviously no one was in danger at the moment, even if you still felt on edge. Dracula was very much contained here in the castle.

But that left you with a bunch of different thoughts rushing through your mind.

You couldn’t really ask for a better spot for the castle to be, if you were being honest. It was hidden, right along private property. Chances of civilians finding it were slim. The less innocent lives you had to worry about, even if it was idiots trespassing, the better.

Then there was how to deal with the problem at hand. What do you do with the statue and the castle? You couldn’t just leave Dracula here could you?

“If I had only brought the Vampire Killer…” You mumbled under your breath, nails digging into your palms.

The whip was ancient, but incredibly powerful. It was strong enough to break down stone. You could finish the job tonight, if you wanted to make the trek…

But would that be wise?

…Did you even have much of a choice?

It’s not like you can actually do anything right now, anyway. Your dagger and other weapons can’t cut through stone. Not like your whip could. You would be here for hours.

You let out a sigh and rubbed your temples, exhaustion creeping up on you. Sure, you hadn’t fought anything, but this whole ordeal was adding onto your already existing stress.

Running a hand through your hair, and looking out a nearby window, another thought ran through your mind.

What if you revived him by destroying the stone? Even if he was cursed, you weren’t aware of the specifics, and you didn’t want to be the one to accidentally doom the world by trying to ‘save’ it.

Feeling your hair stand on end again, you quickly glanced back at the statue. Even if he was on his knees, he was still level height with you.

And it felt like he was looking right at you.

The thought made you very anxious. Was he alive? Or even aware you were standing right in front of him? A Belmont, debating on how to end his life?

Suddenly, the very thought made your stomach sour.

“I… Need to go. I need to leave.” You said, finally making a decision. You needed to get away from here.

You were not equipped to handle this.

A fight to save the world? Sure, you could improvise.

But whatever was happening here? No. No way.

Despite your conscious telling you to stay and deal with the problem, you tentatively took a step backwards. Then another. And another.

Your eyes stayed on the statue until you reached the door, and you quickly turned and left, shutting the large door behind you.

It didn’t take you long to hightail it outta of the castle. The main layout you had passed was burned in your mind, and made it easier to run through.

Though it wasn’t until you were out of the castle, did you feel like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The moment you passed through those large, ominous doors and into the courtyard, it was as if you could breathe again.

You didn’t wait to catch your breath.

Running through the courtyard, you sprinted out past the rusted gate, not stopping until you were long past the lake that sat in front of the castle.

Finally, when you reached the spot where you had first noticed the castle, you came to an abrupt halt. Panting, you turned around, and eyed the ominous structure.

It was late now, the sun had been setting for a while. However, that didn’t hide the castle from your sight. The dark clouds still hovered above, with lightning and thunder striking every so often.

You still couldn’t believe it. Dracula’s castle was here, for who knows how long.

And you were going to have to destroy it somehow.

“Lucky me…” You mumbled.

Taking one last look, you anxiously made your way back to your cabin.

The walk back, which normally would have been peaceful and relaxing, was nothing but a stressful venture for you. Sure, the castle seemed empty, and you could no longer sense it the further you walked. However, that didn’t mean you were safe.

For all you knew, you were being followed by an army of hell, just waiting to ambush you.

That… didn’t really put you at ease, even as you approached your cabin.

Cautiously, you opened the door. With your weapon ready, you made a quick search of your small home.

Thankfully, no one but you seemed to be here. You weren’t sure if that relieved you, or made your anxiety worse.

You decided to take it as a blessing.

Still, you didn’t rest. It was too late to drive back, nor did you want to just leave, knowing the castle was right there, just an hour away by foot.

Biting your lip, you eyed the Vampire Killer, which was still sitting innocently on your bed. You could practically hear it in your mind to pick it up and head back to the castle. ‘Use me! Use me! Finish the job!’

As much as you wanted to, you felt a sick feeling in your stomach. Something wasn’t right, and you knew it. You just needed to figure out what it was, before you made any hasty decisions.

One wrong move, and you could not only revive your family’s immortal enemy, but also potentially doom the world if you fail at killing him. This was something where you had to tread lightly, lest you make a horrible, world ending decision.

No pressure.

You stood next to the bed for a few minutes. It felt as if your mind was racing, but you felt unable to think at all.

With a sigh, you made up your mind. Grabbing your whip and a bag, you headed to the backdoor. You wouldn’t be hunting Dracula tonight, no, but you still had to ensure your safety.

Starting with some protective measures.

Thankfully, throughout the generations, your family came up with many different ways to ward off monsters and vampires from properties. If you wanted any sleep tonight, you would have to put some of these in place, at least for your peace of mind. It wasn’t something that would take too long, but better safe than sorry.

Even if you hadn’t seen a single monster, you weren’t going to risk your life by making assumptions. It was small mistakes that got hunters killed, and you weren’t going to join their numbers.

Setting up a few traps and enchantments took longer than you would have liked, but you weren’t going to take any chances. Your cabin already had some traps in place, but renewing everything wasn’t going to hurt anyone, let alone you.

When you finally sat down on your bed, you rolled onto your back, and blankly stared at your ceiling. The Vampire Killer in your hand tightly.

“What now?” you asked yourself.

The answer seemed simple. Sleep, wake up, and take care of the problem.

It wasn’t that simple though. You already had fought yourself about this for hours. Did you really need to now, right before bed?

You turned your head to the side, seeing your phone charging on your nightstand.

“I could call for assistance…” you said, toying with the idea in your head. But did you really want to invite that mess here? With how reckless your family at home was, you didn’t think it was a good idea.

Then there was the fact they would find this place. Your little sanctuary away from them. They would never give you peace if they found this place. In fact, you were sure your father would tear it down, or claim it was his, since he was the beneficiary after your mother passed.

They would never let you have anything like this. You knew they already had tried multiple times to find where you go when you disappear, you weren’t going to give them that luxury.

Most of all, you weren’t going to give them the last thing left untouched that had been your mother’s.

You could call your other family, such as your uncle, but you shot idea that down. You hadn’t really talked to your aunt or uncle in years since your father took over everything. For all you knew, their numbers had been changed again. As much as they’d probably like to know what was going on, you felt a bitterness in your gut.

As much as you loved your aunt and uncle, they hadn’t so much bothered calling or texting you these past few years. Why would they help you now? Maybe for some glory? ‘To keep humanity safe?’ When they haven’t even helped out family?

You snorted. No thanks.

Besides, it would no doubt take them hours to get here, and they’d probably tell your father about this place against your wishes. Something about wanting all ‘Belmonts’ on deck. Bah.

Turning onto your side, you reached over and turned the lamp on your side table off.

You could think more on this tomorrow.

[problema-fic-prompts]

Character A is a musical prodigy despite only being a teenager, and has an amazing career ahead of them. Even if their family had impossibly high standards and has been cruel to them.

Character B is a music tutor who’s taken an interest in A that turns into obsession.

As B helps them further their career, they groom A to be their lover and stay by their side. Forcing them away from their toxic family. I like thinking about this set in like a Victorian setting but I think any time period works great

[gemini-forest]

I remember a while back in a call someone asked me if Leo likes his in laws.

No he fucking hates them. Jayden's mom specifically

Like it took a while for Jayden's parents and siblings to turn around and not be bigoted thanks to their cook aunt. They did grow from that.

However after their mother met Leo shes been passive aggressive towards him since day one. Jsyden has called her out for Leo publicly and privately but gotten to the point of being passive aggressive.

If ya want to see Leo be his most petty let me know

[l1wolf2588]

Why does it bother me to be accused of something I know I didn't do? Dunno but here we are feeling like the trash someone said we were.

[forget-me-not-automaton]

It’s so funny how I’ve learned to hinge my entire self on such a terrible family. Every media I like and every opinion I have is thickly filtered through “what would dad think if I showed him this or told him about it? What about my brother and sister?” Even though all 3 are simply indifferent most of the time, while still managing to hurt my feelings constantly with their own outdated views. I constantly try to come up with ways I could fix them or make them better, trying to figure out how to work them into good people, even though I know I can’t do that. I don’t want my opinions to be controlled by people who I hardly see anymore. I just want to be free.

[jackriverart]

Sometimes I wish I could just tell my sibling that our mom is abusing them too but they don't even want to know about the ways she abused me, and also they need to come to that conclusion by themself.

[bl0omss]

time to finally open the messages from my 90% toxic eldest brother :) wonder what kind of insults he has for me this time. It’s like evil gachapon

[pain-is-my-game]

One of the worst realizations that I have ever made is realizing that all I ever wanted was to be loved by my parents. I never would've turned out like this if they just loved me unconditionally.

[lavendermin]

collar of thorns | blade

blade x reader, fem reader, bodyguard au

wc | 5.1k

genre | hurt and (a tiny bit of) comfort, nsfw, minors do not interact

warnings | implied toxic family dynamics, unhealthy dependency, brief previous torture mention, panic attacks, trauma, blood and brief violence, nudity, blade uses a shower head to get you off (if there’s a term for this lmk I’m drawing a blank rn)

note | mwah thank you to the bestest @nashusglasses for beta reading this 💗 this was supposed to be at most 2k but well… here we are ^^; love blade’s quiet but gentle girldad vibe with the stellaron hunters so this is a loose interpretation of that in a bodyguard au. very self indulgent with a sprinkle of comfort and mostly exploring their dynamics of an evolving relationship

His calculated actions are a conversation—one you have learned to follow, though not without a learning curve. Even in silence there’s more he tells you with a glance alone than words ever could.

It’s experience that Blade has accumulated as your bodyguard for quite a few years. No stranger to your mannerisms and higher quality of life coming from a family with powerful connections and flaunted status.

He knows you well, in his opinion. Head held high but a frail little thing weak in the knees from utter fear and paranoia. Pitiful, he thinks. Like a field mouse braving the jaws of a beast.

Despite being the black sheep of a renowned family, you’re no less a target as a vessel of valuable knowledge— information that some would go to great lengths to gain. No cost is too great, risk and reward leading many astray. Ultimately, it pulls you closer to unraveling. Time and time again.

—

There is protest— displeasure from attendants that arrive on behalf of the main family estate. You aren’t meant to be seen like this— bedridden and flawed and vulnerable.

The instruction was to wait. Wait until you have healed and could properly make yourself presentable. To save your family face, above all else.

But it’s your house, your rules.

The attendant continues to talk your ear off about why this is egregious and why the meeting should be postponed until months later when you’ve healed. It’s what the family ordered.

They might as well have ordered you dead, too. In your current state you’re no different than a deer in an open meadow, a thousand triggers waiting to be pulled.

“No.” Your gaze is blank as you side-eye the attendant by your bedside. “I want him to see— see exactly what my father signed him up for. If he is to be my guard, then he has to be able to handle all aspects of my life. What good is he to me if the unsightly is just that and nothing more?”

The attendant opens their mouth to oppose, but is interrupted by a knock on your room’s door as another attendant exchanges a hushed message. Upon their departure a tall figure is allowed inside— dark, silent.

Heavy is the atmosphere as he stands before you with an air that you can’t quite read. Blade, his name that was briefly provided by your father’s informant days prior.

“The family extends its gratitude for your gracious courtesy to meet with me on such short notice. Things haven’t been going as smoothly as my father would like. And that man does not trust me whatsoever to keep my mouth shut if the worst should happen.” You mutter something bitterly that Blade chooses not to dwell on. Sleepless paranoia has taken quite the toll on you. The dark circles under your eyes are quite unbecoming, though he doesn’t comment on it.

It’s none of his business— not until you tell him it is. Your word now commands him from the second he stepped into the room.

Blade sits across from you in a leather chair, unreadable with a rather guarded posture. His employer’s daughter— his task— is both what he expects and doesn’t expect.

There is a fear that keeps you alive and a defeat that splits your soul. A cacophony of unrest, a cocktail for an isolated soul.

“As you can see, he’s sorely mistaken,” you snort, dry and humorless. The days worth of agony are neatly dressed in gauze and fresh bandages, well on their way to become a blur of many such incidents to come. A recent incident— torture for information, he can only assume. “Regardless, my life is in your hands now.”

Blade nods, a simple acknowledgement. How easily he accepts to be by your side until your final breath.

“More than your duty,” you continue, “you are my trusted companion. My only companion.”

___

There’s little intel Blade could gather on attempts at your life, but that matters less to him from the second he’s hired. Those attempts would not prove successful, at whatever cost. They would only diminish further the longer he was your guard.

Duty-bound and distanced, he does not bother asking further about your past, and neither do you. You know he wouldn’t answer, and you’ve tried.

As a victim of circumstance, you are hard to blame.

Casual conversation is one-sided—a condition you’ve grown accustomed to. The microscopic changes of expression he allows are often response enough for you to carry conversation. You’ve long since stopped thinking too hard about it. No use breaking your heart over minor inconveniences like a petulant, rich brat.

In fact, not once have you heard him speak in your presence. Doesn’t need to, you think.

It’s easier to think that perhaps he holds resentment or dislikes his duty of protecting you. The lack of verbal conversation is often key to that. But Blade is very good at what he does—skilled in the art of reading people with a glance. His gentle gestures despite a blank, forlorn expression speak to the heart. Your heart.

It’s easy— liking him.

“There’s a restaurant that was highly recommended to me. Word of mouth from one of the Iris Family members during last month’s meeting,” you start casually. Sleep is just freshly rubbed from your eyes that morning.

Blade doesn’t respond, as expected, his hands steadily occupied with brushing your hair. Always gentle. More patient than you who yanks at any knots that form. You prefer it when he does it, liking the feeling of little jolts of electricity down your spine at the intimate action. It calms your nerves, he’s noted.

So, he indulges you.

There’s hesitance in your fidgeting hands as you peek at him through the vanity mirror from under your lashes. It easily betrays the stern facade you try to enact. You try your luck anyway. “It looked promising and would be a nice change of pace. I would like to try it out.”

Silence. His hand stills and his gaze is rather cold as he meets your eye. The air in the room shifts, a thick tension that’s palpable. You don’t even flinch.

“Bad idea, I take it. Well, I have an errand in the area regardless— the Oak Family contacted us not long ago and I’m being issued as the initial contact for a new business discussion. It would be an ideal use of our time if we can still pick up some food to bring back afterward.”

His hands resume their brushing, burning-red gaze now a dulled crimson as he focuses on not pulling your hair. A better idea, you take it, as he seems to relent to your veiled suggestion with a quiet sigh. The only clear sign you’ve learned means you won him over.

Blade knows well that you look for little ways to get some wiggle room of normalcy. You’ve never gotten used to this caged-bird life, bound to fear what lies beyond the golden enclosure of silk and honey. Perhaps he pities your cries, like birdsong that longs for a life that doesn’t suffocate you— a life that doesn’t hinge on every day and every interaction being a gamble.

If there is even a fraction of an illusion of that for you, he will turn a blind eye and let you lie to yourself. A moment is enough to soothe your aching heart.

Later in the day you depart for the city. A distraught feeling sits in the pit of your belly. An omen brought by a spike in anxiety that you force out of mind as Blade opens the passenger door for you.

It’s a silent ride across several towns to the location indicated. There’s doubt that gnaws at the back of your mind. Something didn’t seem right with the person that contacted you with the location details for this conference between families. You’ve become much too aware that you’re viewed as an expendable pawn of the family.

But, you’re sure Robin will be there. And a familiar face is just what you need for this to be less of a drag.

Blade seems to sense your hesitance. Wordlessly, he turns on the radio. You worry too much, he seems to criticize with the action. It helps all the same.

But… your spirits seem lighter, more optimistic. A moment of normalcy as you tune out and look out the window at passing city lights and a sun slowly tucking away behind never ending buildings. You’re a person, then.

Even if only briefly.

____

They say a common phenomenon occurs that allows you to register one small, redundant detail when in a state of sudden shock. And you remember it then, clear as day.

7:59 PM.

The time on your cracked phone screen just inches away from you.

The smell of iron and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. None of it registered quick enough before Blade yanked you harshly out of the way.

And yelling. Muffled and harsh.

Your body is cold with fear, frozen stiff in place. It’s a feeling you haven’t felt since you were a child.

You struggle to get back onto your feet, cowering back toward the alley wall. It gets harder to breathe as panic sets in when your eyes spot Blade clutching his side.

The situation deteriorates further, every passing second a blur of struggle and dark figures. It feels like every emotion is going to burst out of you in a scream. It’s an out-of-body experience, as if you’re watching your own body act on its own trying to put itself between Blade and the attackers.

“Don’t,” he commands—harsher still with urgency. “Stop.”

You freeze at the foreign sound of his voice. There’s no time to process it as crimson seeps through the fresh wound on his side.

You keep hearing his muffled voice tell you to run, run away. Through the pounding in your ears of adrenaline and fear you realize that’s your voice. Hoarse and frantically yelling, pleading for him to run away— you’re hurt, don’t fight anymore.

The rest is a blur as Blade drags you out of the alley, through crowds of nightlife and shoves you into the car. There’s no way of knowing if the pursuit was hot on your tails. It’s a risk Blade could not afford in his current state.

Your mind is numb with fear during the entire process. Every jolt from the roads he speeds through shoots pain through his body— a bloody manifestation of his inadequacy. He hisses and clutches his side, forced to drive with one hand. The sound tears you from your daze for a moment but forces you to experience the present.

There’s red on your hands, your clothes. The smell of iron is putrid as you desperately try to control your breathing. Bile is at your throat and you choke back a sob, like a pitiful kicked dog. You can’t afford to freak out right now and make things worse.

It’s disjointed how your body reacts compared to your mind. You’ve been through worse. You know that. This comfortable life laying low with your bodyguard has spoiled you. He has spoiled you. Your heart is merely a soft pearl now, layers of disjointed affections received and perceived through his tenderness. The base instinct overwrites everything else— all logic, all experience.

This is not normal, it reasons. This shouldn’t be normal.

You want desperately to silence the mind.

The car comes to a slow stop after miles of non-stop driving, and you’re painfully aware of the trembling in your hands. Though you try to hide them by folding them onto your lap, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Blade’s hand, calloused and marred with drying red, is steady as it closes over your fist. It commands your attention and the lump at your throat threatens to rip a sob from you.

It’s alright now, his piercing red eyes tell you. There’s a tenderness that comes through while his thumb rubs your knuckles to ease your anxiety. He lets his head fall back onto the headrest, a bitter chuckle filling the rigid silence.

Your voice trembles, breathy as it breaks with the urge to cry. “They could have killed you.”

Blade exhales through his nose, eyes still closed as he processes your distress.

“I’m expendable. You must live.” His tone is even, detached. It lacks the usual twinge of warmth and care. It’s as if he’s reading something scripted instead— attempting to avoid overstepping.

“You’re being dishonest with me. That’s not what you want to say. I–”

Your mouth presses into a thin line, his hand squeezing yours.

“I know my father sent them.” There isn’t even hurt in your voice, but a steady bitterness begins to burn at the hearth of your soul. It was high time they deemed you more of a liability than an actual member of the family. You shake your head, and with a deep breath you steady your nerves as best as you can. “That matters less right now. Let's get you cleaned up.”

Staying the night at a hotel much too far from home is less than ideal, but you’re aware Blade won’t risk walking right into another ambush that may be waiting at your doorstep. Best not to compromise the situation further.

Despite the tremble of your lip, your hands are steady and efficient as they work to help clean his wounds. You jolt as your phone vibrates with an incoming call, apologizing as you excuse yourself to the balcony. Blade quietly finishes dressing the cleaned wound on his side. He listens intently as you speak with an Oak Family member on the phone, quickly and quietly.

“No, no. We are safe now. Please keep alert. My contact sent you all available surveillance footage of the area shortly after we departed. We can discuss this further once I look into it. On behalf of,” you pause, a strain on your voice before you compose yourself, “on behalf of the family I apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you, Robin.”

Blade watches you intently from the side. There’s a facade of calm you’re trying desperately to keep up. Perhaps it’s the ‘fight or flight’ that’s still keeping you whole right now. For now, he keeps a close watch over you, every microexpression, every fidget.

There’s hesitance as his left palm rests on the bed. It doesn’t escape your detection as you close the sliding door.

“Give me your hand.” A beat and he relents, red gaze as intense as ever as he watches you kneel before him in silence. “You’re hurt here, too.”

He grunts as if inconvenienced, but lets you do as you please. Indulges you— always does.

With a patient crimson gaze, he observes you. Your heart has never felt so vulnerable than right now.

“It’s not perfect, and I’m no doctor, but…” You pause to look over your work.

Despite trembling hands and less-than-elegant bandaging, you gently bring his knuckles to your lips and press a kiss to each one. A childish gesture he didn’t see you as the type to do. That surely in your naive heart you believe a kiss will make it better— despite the blood and bruises.

And Blade— doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t stop you.

How selfishly he lets your heart devour him.

He gives a silent thanks and moves to sit away from you, making home on the couch with a wince as he adjusts to lay down. The lights are off now, save for your bedside lamp.

Even in the warmth of the lamplight, the feeling of being cold and isolated persists. Alone at the edge of the bed. You want to be selfish and order him to sleep on a proper bed— near you for your peace of mind.

Sleep, he tells you wordlessly with a glance. It’s been a long day.

You worry your lip all the same, seated at the edge of your bedside. Unmoving, tense— your mind reels, replaying the same thing over and over.

7:59 PM.

When the weapon just grazed over his heart and instead hit his side. When the smell of iron, cursed with beautiful crimson, nauseated you.

In the dark, your eyes adjust and watch as Blade’s breathing slows with sleep. It’s not normal— his breathing. The wrappings will only do so much while the pain persists. But by morning, the scar will be there, as if it had always been there. You don’t dare ask the details of why.

He’s spoiled you, surely. A comfortable life in his hands has made you soft. And you know this to be true, otherwise this attempt at your life would be nothing but another occurrence you hardly bat an eye to.

The gentleness he grants you unravels you faster.

No matter how close Blade is, you’re always alone. Even so, you choose to stay within his shadow. It’s warm— always warm.

And you crave him. Crave him in ways you should not entertain.

You don’t sleep much that night. The attempts on your life are few in recent years, but even more rare is successful bloodshed. The more dire incidents leave your nerves fried, a heavy pounding in your chest as adrenaline leaves your body tense and sleepless. Even with Blade’s watchful gaze keeping you safe, knowing he’s been injured by your carelessness only leaves you waking with a strangled gasp from guilt-ridden nightmares every hour.

The room is foreign as you try to adjust your sight to the dark bathed in a sliver of moonlight from a crack in the hotel room’s curtains.

This bed is not yours, this room is not yours. It’s not home, and this isn’t normal. The target is hot on your back— always under someone’s watchful eye. Never able to take a full breath without gasping and clawing at the anxiety closing its hands around your throat.

Your throat feels tight the more you think. In the dark, faces seem to morph into the details on the ceiling— mocking and shifting. All you can do is think in circles, worry your lips raw.

When you look over, you can just barely make out Blade’s dark figure laid on the sofa across from you. The bandages wrapped on his torso are salt in the wound as the guilt claws at your throat once more. Tears sting your eyes as the stress of it all finally reaches a breaking point.

The clock reads midnight as you tiptoe to the bathroom.

The bathwater is just short of scalding when you step in. The feeling doesn’t even phase you, a welcome sensation as the steam surrounds you. Its temperature is a welcoming hug melting your stresses away little by little as you work your fingers into your tense shoulders. A sniffle here and there, shaky breaths accompanied by the sweet melodies of tears breaking the water’s surface.

For a while, you sit idly, watching water from the leaky faucet drip. With each drop, the echoing sound clears your mind and centers you.

Deep breath, hold it. Exhale. Repeat.

The door to the bathroom clicks open, heavy footsteps trailing in.

“I already knew you were awake, but I wish you would rest,” you mutter into your knees as you shrink into yourself.

He sits at the edge of the tub. Formality is left at the door, for your sake. You have nothing to hide from him, anyway. The flesh is nothing to hide, and you’re more ashamed to let his eyes gaze upon the want in your soul. Ugly and wretched.

“You care for me,” is all Blade says in the quiet echo of the bathroom. “Don’t.”

The silence that follows seeps into the water that is no longer warm. Your body sinks lower into the tub until your nose is just above the water. Heat sears the tips of your ears.

The pounding of your heart is deafening, louder still as his presence engulfs your senses.

You feel foolish and naive and your bones are tired of being within your flesh. Bound to carry a fool like you through every mistake.

The sound of water draining doesn’t faze you. He’s decided this is less healing than you wallowing in self-pity. It won’t do you any good. Believing him is easier when you’d rather not think.

You sit up and keep your gaze glued to the surface of the water. Not unable to meet his gaze— refusing to— as his words weigh heavy on your heart.

You would rather he squeeze your heart— drink it dry of the lifeblood that keeps it pumping. Maybe this isn’t love. Or isn’t what you need.

But you will yourself to not care. Have to.

Blade taps your shoulder, urging you to stand before you catch a cold the longer you stay in the lukewarm water. He sighs quietly when you shake your head petulantly.

You finally speak— a quiet, frail thing as your voice trembles ever so slightly. “You’re wrong. It’s more.”

The water sloshes and spills over the sides as you turn your body around. Your eyes meet full, crimson moons, and your heart remains strangely steady. Uncertainty claws at your nerves until they fray like ribbons.

The draining water weighs in the forefront of your mind like an hourglass waiting for your next move. And with each second his eyes crumble your resolve, seeing through you— peering into the soul of a frail little thing like you. He waits patiently for your next gamble.

You lean up, lips pressing against his. A forlorn warmth.

Not pushed away, not stopped. Blade indulges you. Always does.

A wordless answer.

“You don’t like it, but I love you,” you mutter against his lips when you pull away. “That won’t change easily.”

“I never said I don’t like it.”

You can’t meet his eyes when your fingers silently trace the bandage wrappings around his bare torso.

“It eats me alive to see you get hurt. I know it’s your job, but… I can still be a fool in love. Can’t I?”

When you chase his lips again, your body shivers. It’s difficult to tell if that comes as a result from the harsh, cold porcelain of the empty tub or his teeth sinking into your lip.

The water is running again when Blade pushes you away, your eyes unfocused and glassy. He makes your heart ache. You have yet to decide if it’s in a good way or a bad way.

“Is it pity?” you ask quietly. “The reason you kissed back?” There’s distress and hurt in your voice as Blade falls into routine, moving you about like a doll to finish what you inevitably will not.

No response. For once, you can’t read him.

Blade works silently as he runs hot water over your body with that delicate gentleness that has your heart yearning and longing for him to be forced into what you need. You swallow the greed— the selfishness— and tear out the vitals of that ugly beast before you go mad if he leaves.

Your back is to him as he uses the shower head to get the last remaining suds out of your hair. It pulls your focus for a moment, the feeling pleasant and distracting. Methods he already knows to soothe your tumultuous mind.

The water runs and he turns you around. The bandages around his torso are damp by now, your lingering gaze focusing on them as he finishes rinsing you in silence. The myriad of scars adorning his arms and torso bring a heavy feeling to your chest. You will the vile feeling away and focus on his fingers gently lathering up your hair. Keeping you sat makes the task more difficult— you know this. But the attention makes your heart lighter all the same.

Selfish. The thought brands itself on your back like a hot iron.

The water runs and runs along your thigh with a light pressure as he abandons the shower head and tilts your face up to finally look at him. His gaze is intense— worried in the way he searches your crestfallen expression. You’re sure you look pathetic like this, disappointment on your face.

But he kisses you.

Blade leans down and kisses you. Of his own volition, now, and it's soft and warm. So warm it singes the edges of the isolation that consumes you. And for a moment, salvation is what you feel.

“You’re stubborn,” he says, his breath warm as it fans your face. “I enjoy it. That’s my answer.”

You can’t help the pout on your lips. It pulls a hum of amusement from him.

“Enjoying the demise of my heart. You’re cruel.”

Your words have no bite. A ghost of a smile graces his lips and it brings a rush of emotion to your already starving heart.

Because you don’t know it, but he craves you. Fondly but desperately.

Where your family has thrown you to the side, he will hold you close. A greed of his own he has to battle— keep focused so it won’t consume him. So he won’t devour you whole.

A shiver runs through your body as he coaxes you back into the tub, and you think for a moment he’s back to keeping you at an arm’s length again. The cold of the porcelain is harsh on your back. You retain some shame, at least, and you go to cover your chest. It’s the feeling of being a lamb before the slaughter, pristine and loved.

“Sit still,” Blade commands, voice smooth and an octave lower as his arm pushes one of your legs apart to prop on the edge of the tub.

It's a welcome initiative that makes your face warm with a sudden meekness. You’re exposed and surely getting slick by the second with arousal dripping down your inner thigh. Spread and completely bare.

Your chest rises and falls at a quickening pace and you whimper in anticipation. Blade watches you almost curiously, as if he’s never heard these pathetic little sounds from your lips. There’s little that hasn’t been shared between you two with his intimate work as your bodyguard. His presence has been by your side nearly twenty four hours a day every day for the past few years. Still, this is a new low he is taking on with you.

Indulging you. Like he always does.

This is an inevitable shift in your relationship— one that has long since strayed from a purely professional stance. It never suited you both, at least that’s what you like to think.

His gaze like blood is trained onto your expression— every shift, every change, every wince. He wants to see them all, sear them into his memory like tomorrow isn’t promised.

Your body jolts and an obscene moan you can't manage to hold back bubbles up your throat as he holds the shower head just over your slick cunt. The water runs with a constant pressure that feels odd and overwhelmingly good. But your moans are much too loud, much too desperate. With a click, the flow changes and he rips a sharp gasp out of you as he aims the water at your throbbing clit.

Your body is thrashing, squirming against the porcelain but you don’t have it in you to tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop. But this feeling is not him, and you want to be selfish and have him take all that remains. To have him take and take and fill and put you back together after he breaks you into irreplaceable pieces.

The squeeze of his hand on the tender flesh of your plush thigh is enough to have you panting and writhing. The feeling is isolated, the mere touch hot on your skin— scalding, even. His large hand sinks easily into the soft skin there, and you wish his touch alone would leave marks in his wake. To remind you that he’s still here, and you’ll both be alright.

The coiling feeling builds and builds, your walls clenching around nothing as your clit is assaulted by the constant stream of pressure. A whimper of frustration escapes your lips as your hips try to buck up to chase the feeling— begging for relief. He doesn’t spare you from cruelty, not when your expressions are a wonder to behold. You can’t even scream as an orgasm rips through you so suddenly, mouth agape as you twist and arch under his watchful gaze.

An expression twisted and contorted by bliss— Blade drinks up all your sounds and the sight of you undone. You squirm against his hold on your thigh as the feeling starts to toe into overstimulation. It’s too much of a good thing and you don’t know whether to beg him to stop or keep chasing the feeling of the coil tightly winding again.

The tears that adorn your lashes blur your peripheral, but you’re sure you see a wolfish grin on Blade’s expression.

Just short of coming undone again, he denies you a second completion. The stream of water slowly drips to a stop and you lay there catching your breath. Frustration sits in the pit of your belly as exhaustion finally settles on your limbs, eyelids heavy. For a moment you feel his lips on your temple— a brief, chaste gesture.

It’s silent as you get ready to sleep once more. By now it’s almost two in the morning, your tired body protesting the hour. But the air is no longer suffocating, and a lightness remains in your heart once more. The maw of the beast still looms over you but for now, the beating of two hearts quells your worries until morning.

His steps halt as you pull him along toward the bed.

“Sleep here,” you beg quietly. “It’ll be better for your wounds.”

Blade closes his eyes, forcing himself to disregard the want in your eyes. When you tug gently again he gives in, allowing you to do as you please. Just like always.

He cannot pleasure you how he wants, not tonight. You wouldn’t allow it with his wounds. All the same he relents when you urge him to sleep in a proper bed— to lay with you.

In the stillness of the dark, his hand searches for yours. You wonder for a moment if his fear of losing you rivals your own. For the sake of your heart, you’ll have to assume that much.

He fits easily into the crook of your neck and allows his lips to press tenderly where your shoulder meets your neck. The flesh dissolves under his tongue. You are left bare, a soul so desperately longing to be unsealed and seen and filled.

And he sees you. Blade fills you— with yearning and a wretched possessiveness unbecoming of you. But he fills you, nonetheless.

[nmolesofadrenaline]

[bioluminesced]

Turning in circles,

been caught in a stasis

I want you to take me

apart from the inside

Right to the end

[wisteriasymphony]

"—No no no! You are not putting a price on my son! You are not putting a price on me!"

"Emilie, if you would just curb your emotions for a single second!"

Adrien would never hear anyone in his life scream like this ever again, the cry of a banshee echoing through the halls. He would always remember the lightning to its thunder—the broken furniture, the grabbed arms and slapped faces, how his mother would come to his room for comfort once night fell. Suffocating in her arms. Her screaming took away his breath in much the same way.

"My son, that is my son! You are not his mother, I am his mother! It is I, alone, who will decide what becomes of his life! Nobody else but me!"

"Emilie Genevieve Mary Graham de Vanily, as head of this household it is my God given right to do with this family—"

Her screaming began before his father was even halfway done with his sentence.

"My son! My son!"

Adrien kept his knees tucked in his chest. His hiding space in the back of his closet was his best-kept secret, not a single gasp giving his spot away. His parents were maybe.... eight, nine rooms down the hall, based on how clearly he could hear them shouting. Eight or nine was lucky. Four or less and it would be unbearable to sit through.

[majorstumbles]

WHO TF DOES IT LIKE MISHA COLLINS

LOOK AT HIM

LOOK AT HIS FACE, THE EYES, THE E X P R E S S I O N

Man, just

The way he still manages to maintain an expression of religious devotion to a flawed and broken ’deity’ while suffering for and at the hand of that ‘deity’ will forever amaze me. Obsessive Devotion Castiel, save me. The way he still believes in this new god he’s found even after he’s been pushed away time and time again because he believes Dean Winchester is good and will do what he thinks is best after God his Father abandoned him.

And the way Dean needs him back.

[l1wolf2588]

Picture if you will growing up with undiagnosed autism in a family that puts only negative perspectives on mental health, and being the "kid that never talks." I know this was far too common for some of us.

Now, picture learning to respond to never being able to speak because you get talked down and talked over by becoming loud, and discovering that you have high empathy but come off as blunt and abrasive at times.

Picture your father telling you he doesn't much like you hanging around because you have what he refers to as a "mean streak," and he prefers your soon-to-be sister-in-law to you.

And that's how my day is going. How about you?

[hajihiko]

I interpret Kaz's relationship with his dad a little differently from that one convo. He says something like 'he knew better than anyone that we didn't have the money' and I took that as his dad wanted him to go and have fun like a normal kid and not worry about the money. Of course, I don't justify physical discipline and it is abuse, even if the parent is well intentioned. I think that Kaz does love his dad and they're relationship might be more complicated. But you know that's just one of the many things he needs to work out in therapy.

(Again this is just my interpretation and I'm not saying yours is wrong. I do love the art.)

Just gonna use this as a little jumping point to talk about this bc why not, warnings for obviously sensitive topics

I dont think you're wrong, I actually probably agree, but one thing;

It's not uncommon for public perception to weigh more than actual actions or intent. In the example given, I see it like so; yeah, Souda sr. wanted his son to go on a field trip that they couldn't really afford. Yeah, Kaz wanted to help the household by not going on the trip and saving the money. Both have good intent here. It's not about that, though, because in Souda sr.'s eyes, refusing to go on the trip is like admitting that they're poor, which is like saying the father can't provide for his family, which is like public humiliation- in his eyes. In a fit of rage (and insecurity, if it's something that's already weighing on his mind, as these things often go) the assumption isnt that his son was trying to help, just that he did something that makes the father look bad. Which is a bigger trigger than most things, often, for patriarchal authority figures.

And it not an excuse for physical harm, no, nothing is. Probably, Souda sr. knows that, and didn't mean to snap- doesnt think he committed an act of child abuse- but he's been under a lot of stress, and his son was talking back, and, well.

I think they do usually get along alright, and Souda sr. does his best to provide for himself and his son and keep their relationship good, and Kazuichi is genuinely grateful for everything his dad's done for him? But in the end, it's another person Kazuichi trusted teaching him the lesson that people will let him down and hurt him, in some way at some point. If your parent whom you trust has made you genuinely afraid of them, it's hard to come back from it, and someone as anxious and emotionally sensitive as Kazuichi will hold onto that forever, probably, even as he might internalized some of it as his own fault.

It's a lot more complicated than just "bad father, sad son" (but again, not excusable, you don't hit your kids period). It's father and son who love each other and might be the only family they both have, but they clash horribly on occasion, make up (or don't talk about it at all), things die down, stay good for a while, then there's another clash- so it goes, even if the bad times are only occasional. The biggest Thing about these kind of relationships, to me, is that it's so easy to fall into a routine and let things stagnate, and before you know it, it's just How Things Are and it's easier to just deal than start rocking the boat.