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ruiniel · 1 year

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Fandom: Castlevania Series (2017-2021)

Rating: M

Characters: Alucard, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades

Relationships: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Additional Tags: Post-Castlevania Season 2, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Trephacard, Grief/Mourning, Mental Anguish, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Developing relationship, Polyamory, More Tags to Be Added

Chapter I

Also on AO3.

IX.

A stir, an overflow of warmth.

Trevor turns on his side through the fading numbness of slumber, eyes opening to a chamber that is gray in the predawn silence. He recalls where he is and who he is with, even as he’s met with an unfamiliar sight: Alucard, lying across from him, asleep on his back, body slack and features smooth with the merciful oblivion of rest. One finely veined hand is splayed leisurely over his chest, the other probably around Sypha, snoring lightly on his other side. His head is turned towards Trevor, and he seems more at peace than one had ever seen Alucard in his waking hours; his chest rises and falls in time with Trevor’s silent breaths. Unburdened, unaware. Vulnerable.

Trevor stares at the tumble of fair hair, the slight peek of fang from between pale lips, the soft flutter of pulse at Alucard’s throat like restless butterflies trapped beneath; no simmer of power, no awareness of a legacy coiled around his neck, trapping him like a man sentenced.

It’s too early, though. Too early in the day to think about all of this overmuch, about them, about last night. Trevor closes his eyes, nosing at the pillow that smells faintly of lavender and old linen, and Alucard.

When next he awakens and tries to move, he — can’t?

There’s a heaviness on him, and the soft brush of warm air fanning his ear. It feels like Sypha, smells like Sypha, and of course, as his body sees fit to announce before his brain catches up, it is Sypha.

Alucard is gone, apparently, and her bare leg is slung over Trevor; she’d likely removed her leggings before sleep, leaving her in that thin shift, and the warmth of her inner thigh seeps through his clothes.

Oh-crap. Trevor shifts his hips slightly away, his body too awake of a sudden; Sypha stirs, mumbling something and pressing more into him, which is… which is… nice , his instinct finds, melting here with the late morning sun on his face and her arm draped over his chest, her breath on his neck.

But.

They’ve all slept in close quarters before when forced by circumstance, and yet… this, now, in its cocoon-like intimacy… feels so, so different.

He should probably wake her? “Sypha,” he whispers.

“Mm…”

“It’s late,” Trevor says, running his hand up and down her back.

“So?...”

Trevor gives up and lies there with her, watching the dust floating and shimmering amid slanted beams of sunlight.

When he’s close to falling asleep, Sypha moves, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. She gives him a languid smile as she turns and stretches in bed, arching her back and bringing her arms above her head.

“Alucard?” Trevor asks drowsily, unable to tear his eyes away from the smooth coil and shape of her.

“He awoke some time earlier,” she says, then covers her mouth for another yawn. “Said something about breakfast.” She tilts on her side, facing him.

“Did he, now,” Trevor says. “Can’t wait to see that.”

“I, for one, am famished,” she rises, glancing around the chamber for a while. She eventually looks down at Trevor, reaches for his hand. “It helped, you know. You, being here,” she adds at his questioning gaze. “It helps him.”

Trevor presses back into her touch, eyes on their joined hands, but the warmth settling in him grows cold when he thinks of the look Alucard gave him the previous evening, the despondency and guilt of a bereaved son. He releases her hand and rises to sit at the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the floor. “You said you’d hold me to it, yeah? Just doing my part.”

“Admirably so,” Sypha says, and he can guess the smile in her tone, knows it’s one of those moments where he could try to speak to her and she would listen, where she’s silently inviting him to share if he can, free of judgment or rejection.

And Trevor wants to, wants to get his damn head out of his ass and speak plainly for once, so she… so they both understand. He sighs. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m completely selfless in this,” he shrugs, biting on his lip.

Sypha glides over and wraps an arm around him from behind, then the other, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I know, Trevor. I know.”

A sweet, fragrant smell hits his nose when they reach the kitchen, pleasant enough that his stomach sees fit to rumble. Trevor glances at Alucard, standing before the long counter and wiping his hands.

“Good… morning?” he greets, catching Alucard’s eye, who smiles at Sypha as she goes around him to get herself a cup of water.

“Closer to noon, rather,” Alucard deadpans archly, a tone that used to annoy the hunter to no end, but now he’s too busy noticing the way Alucard carries himself, the shadows under his eyes, any remnant of the past night in his bearing.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were bound for anything momentous today,” he throws it back, easing into their cycle of barbs, finding it oddly comforting now(still wonders when that happened). Trevor steps towards a cabinet and retrieves a mug, then gazes at the steaming food Alucard sets on the table.

“What, is that?”

“These, are pancakes, Trevor,” Alucard crosses his arms at his chest. “There’s berries, and honey,” he points at a large jar. “What is so amusing?” he asks at Trevor’s snicker.

Trevor shrugs helplessly, shaking his head as Sypha takes a seat opposite him close to Alucard, already helping herself to the fare. “Sorry, sorry, I’m only getting used to Alucard of Wallachia making me pancakes.”

Alucard’s face remains impassive. “Don’t get used to it.”

Trevor taps fingers against the wooden surface. “Perish the thought.”

“Speak for yourself, Trevor,” Sypha says, already drizzling honey over one pancake and reaching for the berries. “Mmm, you used cinnamon,” her eyes close in satisfaction, and Trevor doesn’t miss the soft, caring glance Alucard gives her as she licks her fingers.

Trevor can’t take his eyes off them, feels like a piece of shit for the jealous weeding growing in his gut but he smothers it down because, this… is better than any human interaction he’s had in months—no, years: the soft glow of a fresh day, the sweet smell of actual, cooked food, and companionship. One should be so lucky, he can’t but think, though it feels paltry to attribute what they have here to mere luck.

“I thought we might check the grounds today,” Trevor then announces lazily, looking at both of them in turn.

“Oh?” Alucard rests his cheek in his palm; Sypha chews on a pancake, and glancing at either of them feels like something peeling off his heart, leaving it tender and sore — what if this, like many other things lost before in life, could also be taken away?

He’s being a selfish prick again.“Yeah,” he says, “there was a priory not too far off the road leading to the old house, back in the day. Thought it’d be good to see what became of it, since, you know,” he gestures all around them, and they understand: having the Church in close proximity to Dracula’s castle where dwell a dhampir, a Speaker and an excommunicated heretic, is like a barrel of oil needing but a spark to catch a devouring flame.

Alucard watches him, thoughtful. Sypha stabs another pancake with her fork. “I agree. We might as well get this over with sooner than later.”

“As you wish, then,” Alucard says, looking between the two of them. He acts as though yesterday never happened, and Trevor, during one of those anchoring moments of clarity, decides against tilting this precarious balance by asking about it.

The hunter nods. “Settled.”

They reach the forest path by midday, passing the old split oak tree which Trevor makes sure to mention used to be his tree, his playground and refuge, an oasis of peace during the many turbulent arguments with his siblings. He bites down the memories gurgling to the surface as Sypha hums a tune in her lilting voice. Alucard walks alongside them, sword at his hip, glancing all around at regular intervals, while talking to Sypha about yet another sleep-inducing, long dead scholar.

“Anything to worry about?” asks Trevor as they follow the road which bends on another path, leading to their destination.

“Not as far as I’m aware,” says Alucard.

“... as for my people,” Sypha carries on an idle conversation begun from banter, “... in our tribes we are free to do what we like — whether it's two, three, or however many people choose to build a life together, or for however long they wish."

For however long. Trevor remembers clearly his own encounter with the Speakers, days after the loss of his family. He was flat with exhaustion and pain, a festering wound on his face. They were kind, and as close-knit as his own family ever were.

“Vampire culture, for the most part, does not adhere to monogamy as some human societies do, either — particularly in this part of the world,” adds Alucard, lowering his head to avoid a hanging branch.

“But your…” Trevor stops himself before saying parents.

“What happened between my mother and father was…” he hesitates, “unique.”

“You can say that again,” Trevor can't help himself, meeting Sypha's glare with a sheepish shrug.

“Ah, it's fine,” the soft lull of Alucard’s voice is accented by a smile; one Trevor wants to see more of, so this is actually a win. “My parents chose each other, but staying together and being exclusive was… unusual to my father’s people. Even as a child, I heard gossip at court — many were unsure as to what abilities I’d inherited, if any, from my father. Enhanced hearing was one of them, the first to show.”

“And let me guess, none dared speak up about their lord's personal affairs."

Alucard nods once, looking away as they reach a treeless patch of grass overlooking a vale, where a silvery river snakes away amid stones and forests, towards the horizon.

It’s doubly peculiar, hearing about Dracula as a family man and as a father, but seeing the being he’d brought into the world, the kind of person Alucard is, makes the idea less outrageous and more attached to reality by the day.

The three of them pause, gazing into the distance. Sypha is between them, pebbles crunching beneath her sandals. “What is that, down ahead?”

Not too far off, sheltered by crowns of trees, is a long structure, blackened with years and covered in crawling ivy.

Trevor follows the direction of her finger, rubbing at his stubble. “We’ve arrived, that is the priory settled on the estate. While I was a child, before… everything, a few monks still lived there, tending to their gardens and their beer. It’s, uh…” he smiles, and the memory is stubborn enough that he speaks of it aloud. “It’s honestly where I had my first sip of ale, and then promptly fell asleep in the grass not far from the house, for fear Mother would chastise me when she’d feel the smell.”

“Well, then,” Alucard says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, refrain, if you please.” Trevor ponders for another moment. “Come on then, might as well see what became of it.”

Sypha nods, taking her place at his right. Alucard steps to his left. “Lead the way, lord Belmont.”

Trevor nearly trips over his own legs. “... never call me that, ever, again.”

“I kind of like it,” Sypha snickers, and Trevor looks to Alucard’s smug expression that smoothens the shadowed grief on his face.

Relief takes hold, mellowing in his chest. Better. Much, much better.

#castlevania netflix #castlevania fanfiction #trephacard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #ruiniel:fanfiction #castlevania fic #adrian tepes #polyamory

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words-writ-in-starlight · 6 years

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May I propose the ot3: so we agree she broke it

EXCELLENT ship tag, love it, 10/10

#castlevania #ot3: so we agree she broke it #i basically enjoy these three v much in Any Configuration #although i have to admit my very favorite of the possible arrangements is trevor/alucard (thus the otp tag i've been using)#not for lack of adoration of sypha but because the specific dynamic between those two is #my whole entire shit #i love it so much #i should still write that reincarnation fic i was toying with #in which trevor is reincarnated down the belmont line and sypha is a ghost making sure immortal alucard doesn't get too depressed #while trevor's gone #also! i have those asks and am gonna put stuff up for this show! stay tuned!#lovelypieceofjade #asked and answered

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gildinbainas · 2 years

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Hi! Welcome to my blog! Some important ‘need to know’ info can be found in this pinned post along with helpful links. I encourage you to check them out before approaching me. ( Note that some information is not availible so I would implore you seek out wikipedia in the meantime. Or you can simply ask. I’m too tired and lazy to go back and forth with tumblr over the use of java for long bio pages. )

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🛑 CHARACTER BIOS - incomplete but working on it || 🛑 FULL GUIDELINES HERE ( unformatted version found here. 😎 )

✅ MEME tag || MASTER HC tag || PSA tag || OPEN STARTERS tag

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STATUS: OPEN FOR SHIPPING ( LIMITED ) CURRENT MAINS/AFFILIATES: @nicholas-wolfwood, @nvrcmplt, @thunderbringer, @diverse-hearts, @despairforme, TBA CURRENT EXCLUSIVES: @shacchou ( priest seto - with ATEM ), @rhaegxr ( rhaegar targaryen - with ATEM ), @nvrcmplt ( beschu - with ATEM ),

CURRENT ACTIVITY STATUS: HIATUS W/ LIMITED ACTIVITY || I work full time in the Education profession meaning I work at least 40 hours a week / 5 days a week. There are kids in my care which means I never get a day off. I’m also dealing with family issues and mental health issues. Please understand that while I try not to leave people hanging, my real life will always come first. --- I am most active on the weekends.

MOST WANTED SHIPS / CONNECTIONS: Bard the Bowman, Thorin, or any elf from the Tolkien’s series, Gannicus, Spartacus, Aegon Targaryen, Aerys II Targaryen, Rhaegar Targaryen, Oberyn Martel, Barristan Selmy, Jorah Mormont, Khal Drogo, Petyr Baelish, Victarion Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister ( GoT / ASOIAF ), Lestat de Lioncourt ( - TVC / IWTV ), Trevor Belmont, Issac, Godbrand ( Castlevania ), Thief King Bakura ( though ill be HIGHLY selective ), Kaiba, Priest Mahad / Dark Magician ( YGO Duel Monsters series ), Sasuke Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Deidara, Naruto Uzumaki, Kakashi Hatake (Naruto Series ), Erwin Smith ( AoT )

Please understand that ‘most wanted ships’ or connections’ doesn’t necessarily mean I want to ROMANTICALLY ship with them all. However, with some of them, I am open to it if the chemistry is there.

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Please understand before you follow me that I don’t always follow back right away or at all. I love a small dash with barely anyone on it except for me and my replies. If this is a deal breaker for you then I am sorry.

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[ ALL PROMOS, MOBILE HEADERS, DASH ICONS, BANNERS & THEME WERE CODED BY THE LOVELY cerberuscommissions. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐Would highly recommend. Please do not steal. I give her full credit for all main graphics used on this blog, even if i sometimes forget to mention it in posts. IN ADDITION, some of my gif icons were commissioned while others were found in free gif hunts. I have also made some of my own icons while again, others were found in the tags on tumblr. My fancy ATEM BORDER was made by @faegfx . All credit to her. Alucard border is by floragfx. ]

Short List of Muses featured below the cut. Bolds are mains. Others are ‘as I feel like playing them’ characters or test muses.

THANK YOU FOR READING 🤍

Thranduil Ororpher ( The Hobbit / Tolkien ) Daemon Targaryen Daenerys Targaryen ( ASOIAF / Game of Thrones ) Aegon I Targaryen ( ASOIAF / Game of Thrones ) Ka Suo ( Ice Fantasy series ) Pharaoh Atem / Yami Yugi ( Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Monsters franchise ) Nasir ( Spartacus ) Katniss Everdeen ( OG THG ) Gaara ( Naruto Shippuden ) Kakashi Hatake ( Naruto Shippuden ) Iruka Umino ( Naruto Shippuden ) Bonnie Bennett (TVD) Stede Bonnett ( OFMD ) Aziraphale ( Good Omens ) Alucard Tepes ( Castlevania Netflix ) Hector ( Castlevania ) Louis de Pointe du Lac ( Interview with the Vampire / TVC - mixed media ) Charles Xavier ( XMCU / various comic universes ) ***Request / Potential Mutual Exclusive Muses Only. ( These will NOT have a long winded bio up simply because I will only play them ‘In Fandom’ OR ‘with a select few’ )

Geralt of Rivia ( The Witcher Netflix )

Stefan Salvatore

Coriolanus Snow ( THG )

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Loki ( MCU )

Levi Ackerman

Armin Arlert

Dracula ( historically based )

I do have muses from The Vampire Diaries, Harry Potter / Fantastic Beasts and a slew of Marvel / Disney people. You have to inquire about them since I put most of them on side blogs i only use sporadically. I am however, willing IF you plot with me first or have GENUINE interest in writing long term.

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straycat-writes · 4 years

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May I ask for general hcs from castlevania main 3 plz?

[Yes, thaNK YOU I love this disaster trio so much]

General Relationship Headcanons

Alucard:

He was scared initially, when he first started to realize that he might be in love with you. Love didn’t treat his parents too kindly, after all, and the last thing he wants is to end up like his father.

Still, his heart keeps doing this weird…thing whenever he’s around you, and no matter what he does, he can’t seem to calm it.

It actually gets worse once the two of you get together. It’s actually very easy to fluster him.

Days with him are usually spent exploring the castle that’s obviously way too big for two people. He’d show you the library and watch your eyes light up at the vastness of the collection.

“Which book takes your fancy today, my love?”

“Mm, let’s see. Whichever one is your favourite.”

Herb-picking in the gardens that almost always turns into a game of tag. He’s much faster than you, obviously, there’s absolutely no competition there. But you refuse to stop trying, so he takes pity on you and lets you catch him sometimes. Sometimes.

He’s in charge of dinner. It’s a unanimous decision because no matter how good of a cook you are, he is better.

Run your hands through his hair and he will melt.

Sometimes, you’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him having a nightmare. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for him, but having you there to comfort him afterwards makes it a lot easier to fall back asleep.

Having someone who cares for him is so foreign an experience for him at first, he doesn’t know what to do with all of this love and affection being given to him. Should he accept it? Can he reciprocate it? Does he even deserve it?

But he has always been so incredibly lonely, and being with you feels so good. He’ll revel in every second of it, unconsciously hanging off of your every word and cherishing every touch as if he’s going to lose it.

Tell him you love him. Tell him over and over again that you’re not going to leave him. You will need to reassure him a lot before he actually comes to believe you, but bear with him.

Sypha Belnades:

If there’s anything Sypha adores more than the thrill of hunting, it’s you.

You’re so sweet, and amazing, and so good to her, she sometimes thinks she doesn’t deserve it.

Even though she’ll drag you along on every other hunt despite your protests watch and learn, (y/n) she’s actually very protective of you. Will not let you come within five feet of anything even remotely dangerous.

She’s curious and ambitious and thrill seeking. There is never a dull moment when you’re with her.

Lazy mornings. Even if you do want to get out of bed early, she’ll just give you a wide, puppy-eyed gaze with her beautiful blue eyes and keep nagging you until you cave.

“Are you hungry, baby? I can make us some pancakes!”

“Absolutely not. You’ll just burn the house down. Stick to hunting, Sypha.”

She’ll pout at that, but then smile a little because it is the truth.

If her magic fascinates you, she’ll gladly teach you some of the basics.

Praise her skills and her magic a little and you can get her to do almost anything you want.

Her kisses are the softest, most intoxicating things in the world. You might think you’ve got her wrapped around your finger but it’s actually the other way around.

When in bed with you at night, she’ll gently run her fingers through your hair or trace the curve of your spine until you fall asleep.

Trevor Belmont:

Resident himbo. Trevor doesn’t even know how he scored you in the first place.

He’s very protective of you, and prefers that you stay as far away as possible from the things that his job inevitably cause the two of you to encounter. Of course, he cannot stop you if you really want to go with him. So, he’ll settle for having you within his sight at all times.

“I can take care of myself!”

“Sure, whatever you say, princess.”

He also gets jealous quite easily. All it takes is for another man to just look at you for a little too long, and he’d slam down whatever he is holding, pull you to his side and give you a long, bruisingly passionate kiss. That should clear any doubts anybody might have about you being taken.

Of course, if anyone is stupid enough to actually make a move on you, they’re going to lose a few teeth, among other things.

Loves being close to you. This man absolutely cannot keep his hands off of you.

He will find literally any excuse to touch you all the time, whether it be simply slinging an arm around your waist, or other less innocent touches.

He means well, but he just cannot get enough of you.

Inappropriate jokes and sexual innuendos galore.

If he’s particularly in a mood to tease you, he’d start and he’d refuse to let it go until you’re a blushing mess and hitting him in attempts to get him to stop.

As strong and confident as he comes off, it’s actually surprisingly easy to get him to melt. All you have to do is get close to him, trace his jawline, and whisper a few sweet nothings in his ear and he’ll become putty in your hands.

You’ve got him wrapped around your finger anyway.

He’s so hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with you that it scares him sometimes. After everything he has lost throughout his life, he doesn’t want to lose you too.

It’s why he is so insanely protective when it comes to you. He would fight to an inch of his life if it’s your safety that’s on the line.

#alucard #adrian tepes #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #alucard x reader #sypha x reader #trevor x reader #castlevania x reader #headcanons #general #castlevania #main trio

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johaerys-writes · 4 years

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Fic Writer Meme

I was tagged by @in-arlathan @inquisitoracorn @elveny, @noire-pandora and @nug-juggler, thank you so much friends! I have already answered some of the questions in a previous fic writer meme, so I will link the original post for those.

Name: Johaerys, but you can call me Jo for short!

Fandoms: Currently, Dragon Age, The Song of Achilles and Castlevania.

Most popular one shots: Nothing But Himself, an angsty/smutty/feelsy Trevor x Sypha Castlevania oneshot.

Most popular multichapter: Going by kudos, my Dorian/Trevelyan DAI long fic A World With You, although my Patrochilles fic High-Flying Birds is getting pretty darn close.

Actual worst part of writing: Editing!! It's such a long, laborious process for me because I like nitpicking every small thing and making my life difficult. Sometimes it's easier than others, and there have been the rare occasions where I hardly needed to edit at all, but usually it takes me from a couple hours to actual days. The thought of editing a fic in order to publish it has often stopped me from even starting to write it, lol!! I guess that's a good thing because I only ever write the stuff I absolutely love and have to write, but also there are so many ideas floating around in my head that could have been written I guess, but I just. Hate. Editing. 😂

How you choose your titles: answered here!

Do you outline: also answered here

Ideas I probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice? So many. Soooo many. I would love to write something with my f!Amell Warden and Leliana at some point because I really love them, but it's pretty far down my to-write list atm. Another idea that's pretty far down my to-write list but is definitely getting written eventually is a Trevor Belmont x Alucard Beauty and the Beast!AU that has been kicking around in my head for ages and no, I will not be taking questions at this time, thank you *puts on sunglasses and walks away from explosion in slow-mo*

Callouts @ me: Stop worrying about making it perfect and just WRITE THE DAMN THING

Best writing traits: Oooh, good question. I'll go with what I enjoy writing the most, which is descriptions, sensory details and introspection. I also love love LOVE writing fight scenes, they're so relaxing but they also give me a sort of rush, I can't explain it. They're just immensely fun, that's all.

Spicy tangential opinion: I... don't think I have any spicy opinions to offer at the moment. Or rather, I have way too many, but what I'll say instead is this: It's okay to write self-indulgent stuff. It's okay for you to be your primary target audience. It's okay to use writing to work through difficult situations in your life. It's okay for a scene to not serve any particular purpose, other than the fact that it means something to you and you enjoyed writing it. We're all different and express ourselves in different ways. Bottomline: writing is a very personal and solitary activity, and it should be fun, first and foremost. If it stops being fun for a time, it's also perfectly okay to take breaks and look after yourself and your mental health. Your story will still be there when you feel ready for it.

Also: I hope you're all well and safe, and that 2021 has been gentle with you so far ❤

I think many people have done this already but I will still tag @pinkfadespirit @pikapeppa @solas-disapproves, @midnightprelude, @tevivinter, @serial-chillr, @faerieavalon, @kemvee, @fancytrinkets @aymayzing @tessa1972, @fandomn00blr, @kirkwallgremlin and anyone else who would like to do this! Also no pressure at all, just think of it as me thinking of you and saying hi!

#fic writer meme #johaerys writes #and rambles about it

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unreadpoppy · 3 years

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I posted 17.271 times in 2021

1743 posts created (10%)

15528 posts reblogged (90%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.9 posts.

I added 495 tags in 2021

#shadow and bone - 127 posts

#brenda reads books - 68 posts

#ask answered - 55 posts

#important - 49 posts

#spoilers - 47 posts

#this - 38 posts

#castlevania spoilers - 36 posts

#eurovision - 28 posts

#the falcon and the winter soldier - 25 posts

#dnd - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#“i’ve been feeling very bad lately and talking/communicating/keeping up with people is hard right so i’m not ignoring you i just need extra

My Top Posts in 2021

SOMEBODY HOLD ME AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

First, I thought we weren’t going to see saint germain again, but I guess I was wrong

Second, carmilla seems... a bit... pissed off... if you ask me

Third, what the heck are dracula and Lisa doing there

Fourth, I love Trevor so much. And Sypha too, ah they’re perfect. Also, can’t wait to see what they’re gonna do with Isaac

Fifth, god I hope they give Hector a fucking break. Don’t like how Lenore looks there but that’s mostly because I don’t like Lenore

And lastly

MY BOY ALUCARD AAAAAAAAAAAAA HE’S DRESSED LIKE SYMPHONY OF THE NIGHT I CANT

anyways Netflix don’t ducking disappoint me cause I’m still pissed about season 3

124 notes • Posted 2021-04-15 17:12:54 GMT

Girls should be allowed to wear whatever they want and not be sexualized by it

137 notes • Posted 2021-08-14 15:30:31 GMT

I’m actually very glad Trevor survided, not only cause I love him but also because I feel like he deserved that more than dying. Because I feel like he hasn’t really gotten time to enjoy his life, you know. His family died when he was young, the whole Dracula situation, and he does talk about quite often about this in this season, so knowing that now he can just calm down for a bit, be with the woman he loves and his favorite dhampir, raise his kid and just enjoy the small things... I think Trevor deserves that way more than a hero’s death

180 notes • Posted 2021-05-14 01:32:59 GMT

Episode 10 (final episode) of Castlevania season 4 general thoughts.

- I’ll miss this show

- No lenore, I do not take your fucking apology. take that “I’m sorry Hector” and shove it up your ass

- King Isaac indeed

- Lenore is going to fucking die. Thank GOD. If Trevor is alive and fine, then truly, I will get everything I wanted

- HECTOR IS FREEEEEEEEEEEE

- PLEASE DON’T TELL ME TELL PUT A TOMBSTONE FOR TREVOR

- OH GOD I’M CRYING BECAUSE THERE ARE PEOPLE INSIDE THE BELMONT STRONGHOLD AND THE CASTLE

- SOME OF THE ORPHANED KIDS HAVE BEEN CALLING ALUCARD FATHER??? I’M CRYING

- Yes, Greta and Alucard, that is something I’m actually very okay with, because as long as this boy gets some happiness and people that care for him, I’m happy

- I KNEW SYPHA WAS PREGNANT, PLEASE TELL ME TREVOR IS ALIVE SOMEHOW

- I can’t. The whole conversation between Sypha, Alucard and Greta. ‘I’m crying a lot guys

- Is it Trevor? Please tell me it’s trevor on the horse

- TREVOR’S ALIVE PH MY GOD HE’S ALIVE I’M CRYING SO MUCH

- STOP THIS FUCKING SONG IT’S MAKING ME CRY

- “AND I LOVE YOU”

- “What’s it called?’ “ Treffy” I’M CACKLING

- ALUCARD JUST ADMITED TO BEING HAPPY, AFTER 4 FUCKING SEASONS MATE

- SYPHA CRYING CAUSE THEY FINALLY WON AND CAN REST

- I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE GONNA GET ONE FINAL FLASHBACK INTO LISA AND VLAD. THE SHOW IS TRULY ENDING WHERE IT BEGUN

-Wait, what. WHAT WHAT WHAT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN “I DIED AND YOU WEREN’T THERE” WHAT’S HAPPENING

- THEY’RE ALIVE?!?!?! WHAT?!?!

- OUR POOR BOY DESERVES SOME CLOSURE GODDAMN IT LISA DONT MAKE ME CRY

- THEY GOT A SECOND CHANCE, THEY’RE GOING TO WHITBY, I LOVE THIS ENDING AND i’M CRYING SO MUCH THANK YOU CASTLEVANIA FOR EVERYTHING

229 notes • Posted 2021-05-13 21:49:46 GMT

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 8 OF SEASON 4 OF CASTLEVANIA

Alucard be like: If I had a nickel for everytime a crazy man decided to mass murder people because of a woman he loves, i’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice

383 notes • Posted 2021-05-13 20:17:13 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 4 years

Text

Little Secrets

for @nightimedreamersworld from the prompt list and tags you posted. Thanks to @ninemagicks for leading the way.

From a tumblr prompt list by @mraculous and sent to the Carry On fandom by @nightimedreamersworld : ‘a mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other from LARPing but we’re both too embarrassed to admit that so I jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend won’t stop interrogating us about it’ AU

Little Secrets, a Snowbaz LARPing AU (2774 words)

Simon

“Do you want to come over Friday? I can order in curry and I’ll even watch that Netflix thing you’re obsessed with, if you like,” Penny says, before taking another bite of her sandwich. I’ve already finished mine but I take the chance to steal one of her crisps. She never finishes them. I hate seeing them go to waste.

No one should ever bin salt and vinegar crisps. It’s a crime against humanity.

It’s been harder to coordinate our schedules this term. Even meeting for lunch is a treat. We’ve not had a night in for weeks. It’s not as easy, now that we don’t live together.

And it’s not often that Penny offers to let me decide what we watch. Says she’s got standards and I watch too much “brain numbing rot.”

Castlevania is not rot. It’s fucking brilliant. My costume for this campaign is based on Trevor Belmont. It’s wicked good.

I’m gutted to have to turn her down though. Friday’s going to have to be a no. We’ve been gearing up for this campaign for weeks and I can’t miss it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t Friday.”

Penny looks at me over the top of her glasses. “Why not?”

She doesn’t know about this. About the LARP club I joined. It’s something I started doing over the summer, when she was away in India with her family.

I was bored. And lonely.

I don’t know why I haven’t mentioned it. It’s not that I’m embarrassed about it. I’m not. It’s a hell of a lot of fun swinging a sword around and taking part in campaigns. Even the costume workshops are entertaining.

Everyone’s so friendly. Well, most of them are, at any rate.

Penny tends to frown upon things like this. Things that don’t serve a purpose. Making new friends doesn’t count as serving a purpose. She’s told me more than once that having too many friends is an unnecessary burden. “There’s only so many hours in a day, Simon. Two, three people, that’s all any of us have time for.”

That’s all Penny has time for. I’m lucky to be one of her three people.

Telling her I’m spending two nights a week LARPing with near strangers while dressed as a medieval monster hunter likely won’t go over too well.

Especially as that amounts to two nights a week I’m not doing my coursework or revising. Sacrilege.

“Uh. I’ve got . . . uh, there’s a study group.”

“On a Friday night?” Her eyes widen.

“Yes.” The shorter the answer the better with Penny. I can’t get caught in a lie if I’m barely saying anything.

“For which class?”

Fuck it all. I can feel my leg starting to jiggle. She’ll know the gig is up if I don’t answer soon.

“Medieval Literature.” Thank fuck I’m actually taking that class this semester or she’d be onto me.

It’s not that far off, anyway. Most of the costumes qualify as Medieval.

“Dedicated lot.”

“Quite.”

“It’s good to see you being so devoted to your studies, Simon, what with applications for graduate programs coming up.”

As if I needed the reminder.

“Maybe we can try to find some time next week, then.”

“That’d be great.” I reach out to steal another crisp. She smacks my hand away. “I do miss you, Pen.”

Penny pushes the bag of crisps over to me with a sigh, but she’s smiling. “I miss you too, Si.”

It’s not until the next week that we manage to make plans. And it’s not for curry and Netflix.

We’re at Foyles, having spent the last hour listening to one of Penny’s favorite poets do a reading and a Q & A. Penny’s dead gone for Nikita Gill. I thought it was mostly because she’s a femininst and Indian but I see the point, now that I’ve heard her read from her latest book. She’s brilliant.

Penny’s in line to get her book signed and I’m just sort of shuffling along with her, feeling like a bit of a tit, seeing as I’ve not got a book myself.

Should I? I feel I ought to at least have something, but it’s too late now, we’re almost to the signing table.

Predictably, Penny gets into an intense conversation with the author while I stand there, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably and nodding every so often. The store clerk finally gets Penny to shove off. She drags it out for another minute and then we’re finally clear of that scene.

I’m ready to head to the pub for a bite, but Penny stops down the line to talk to someone from her seminar and I’m left at loose ends again. It’s mostly uni types in the crowd, nearly all of them intense and bright eyed as they talk over each other now and indulge in some excitable hand waving. There’re a few blokes here and there, moody looking types with man-buns, horn rimmed glasses, and oversized jumpers. I recognize one or two from my classes but no one I know well.

Penny stops to talk to another person and I’m in despair over dinner. I wander over to a book display and idly flip through some paperbacks as I wait for her. Thankfully it’s not more than a few minutes later when I hear her call out to me. “Simon!”

I trot over, more than ready to make a run for the pub but her first words aren’t “let’s get out of here.”

“Si, I want you to meet my friend.”

Oh, fuck. We’re never going to get to the pub at this rate. I plaster a smile on my face and turn to say ‘ hello’ to whoever it is Penny is bound and determined to have me meet.

And I freeze.

“This is Baz. He’s in my Modern British Poets seminar and he’s almost as keen about vampire lore as you are.”

I raise my eyes and meet Baz’s cool stare, that one eyebrow of his arched as he meets my gaze.

Fuck. I don’t need to be introduced to Baz. I know Baz. He’s the Mage in our campaign. He’s a fucking ruthless one too, dead brill with his spells, even though he’s a bit shit when he’s got to do any swordwork.

That was my main job on the summer campaign--give him cover so he could cast his spells and decipher his runes and whatever else it is that Mages do.

I’m front line offense now--cut down anyone in my path, long before they can get near the rest of our party. It’s up to Gareth and Niall to have Baz’s back this time around.

I can’t very well pretend I don’t know him, but I really don’t want to be explaining that I’m in a LARP club to Penny in the middle of this bookstore, not in front of Baz.

Fuck.

I give Baz a pleading look which I’m sure only confuses him, based on the way his eyebrow arches up even more. I don’t know how to convey “don’t tell Penny you know me from the Dragonknight campaign” with just my eyes.

“I’m well acquainted with Simon, Bunce.”

I am well and truly fucked.

“You two know each other?” Penny gives me a penetrating look.

Baz keeps talking. “Yes, we’ve been--” but I interrupt him before he can say anything more.

“He’s my ex.”

I have literally no idea why I said that. And there’s no taking it back, now that it’s out there.

Two sets of eyes goggle at me, both of Baz’s eyebrows reaching for his hairline now. Penny looks scandalized.

“Your what?” she asks.

“My ex-boyfriend,” I clarify, literally begging Baz to go along with this with my eyes. I probably look like a gormless twat. Just go along with it, I try to broadcast that thought across the two feet of space between us.

“Your ex-boyfriend,” Penny says flatly. “How do I not know about this, Simon?”

Baz looks just as curious, but thank Christ he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, you now, summer romance, short-lived fling, gone but not forgotten.” I’m literally babbling.

“Very short lived,” Baz says drily. “So short lived I’d be surprised if he had mentioned it, Bunce.” He’s smirking, the smug bastard. Arms crossed over his chest, that one fucking eyebrow mocking me now.

“Yes, ah, you know, summer.”

“I’d say I don’t know at all, Simon.” Penny’s looking between us, a suspicious look on her face. “Why don’t you fill me in. I’d love to hear about my best friend and my study partner getting together and me being none the wiser.”

Baz is full on grinning now. “Yes, why don’t you tell her, Simon? Unless you’d rather I did?”

I think the fuck not.

“Ah. Well. You know we met . . . ah . . . at the library.”

“What on earth were you doing at the library?”

What the fuck was I doing at the library? I never go to the library and Penny knows that.

Fuck.

“Wasn’t that when your laptop was being wonky?” Baz chimes in.

I scowl at him. Only one of us needs to be fabricating this tale and that someone is me.

“At least that’s what I remember you saying, when you came in that night.”

Bloody hell.

“Uh, yeah. That’s what it was. Had to come in and do a lit search on premises.”

“It’s a good thing I was working the desk that night,” Baz says, uncrossing his arms and sliding his hands into his jeans pockets.

My eyes follow his hands down and keep going.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz in jeans before. Tunics? Yes. Majestic robes? Yes.

Elegant, fitted jeans that are snug all the right spots? Well, I’d remember seeing that before, is all I’m saying.

I drag my eyes back up to his face. “Uh, yes, um, good thing.”

I didn’t know he worked at the library.

“Simon came in, just before closing time, with the idea that he was going to do a search and print it all out in mere minutes.” He’s really warming to the subject and I’ve lost control of this whole situation.

“Typical,” Penny says and I’m outraged.

“What?” I sputter.

She nods her head at Baz. “He gave you those puppy dog eyes and that crooked little smile of his, didn't he?”

“Now, see here, I’m the one telling the story and–”

But Baz steamrolls right over me. “Oh, you know he did, Bunce.” He gives me a fond look that makes my face heat up.

What’s he playing at? I rub at the back of my neck, feel the clammy sweat starting to form there.

“Got you to do the whole thing for him, didn’t he?”

This is pure slander. I’m not going to stand for this.

“I couldn’t resist his roguish charm.”

“Listen, now--”

Baz just keeps talking. “I had no idea he was such a shameless flirt.” He shakes his head at me and actually manages to look almost mournful, the lying bastard. “Charmed me, wined me, dined me. But once his laptop was functional and the research project complete, just a few short weeks later, he dumped me without a second thought.”

“Simon!” Penny’s glaring at me now. She’s bought his whole fabrication and I’ve got no one but myself to blame for this farce.

“Just wait a bloody minute!” I yelp.

Baz hunches his shoulders and lowers his head. “By text, no less.”

“Really, Simon, how could you?” Penny’s all righteous indignation, her hand coming to rest on Baz’s arm, eyes blazing as she rakes her gaze over me. “I go away for a few weeks and you not only manage to seduce my friend but then unceremoniously dump him by text? You know better than that. You were a bloody wreck when Agatha did that to you!”

And now she’s airing my entire sordid dating history to Baz in the middle of a bloody Foyles on a Thursday night and I’ve not even had dinner. This takes the biscuit, I swear to god.

“Penny, listen, it was nothing like that, really, I swear.”

She’s got her arms crossed over her chest. “Then how was it, Simon?” Cold as ice. You’d think Baz was her best friend and confidant, not me.

This is a fucking disaster. I’d have been better off telling her about the LARPing.

I am going to tell her about the LARPing. It’s the only way out of this mess.

“Listen, Pen, I’m sorry. I thought you’d be upset I was wasting my time--”

“Wasting your time?” Baz interrupts. “Is that what you’re calling our two weeks, then?”

“That’s not what I meant!” I’m going to let a berserker just go by me and wreck Baz this week, I swear I am. Won’t even brandish my sword at him, I’ll just point him in Baz’s direction. It’d serve the bastard right. “Listen, Penny, I was going to tell you, but I was a bit embarrassed--”

“As well you should be, the way you behaved.” Penny interrupts me this time and I have reached my fucking limit.

“Would the two of you let me finish one bloody sentence?”

Two expectant faces meet mine but I swear there’s a glint in Baz’s eyes and his lips quirk like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing. Arsehole. I may go after him myself this week, if he’s not careful. Go rogue. It’d be worth it, just to wipe the smug look off his face.

He’s got his hair down tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that earlier. He’s usually got it up when we’re–fucking hell, why am I thinking about his hair right now?

“Ok, so let me finish what I’ve got to say or I swear to Christ I am going to go off.” Baz inclines his head and waves a hand at me in a ‘have at it’ gesture. Penny frowns but holds her tongue. “So, while you were gone this summer I got a bit caught up in LARPing.”

“You did what?” Penny asks.

“LARPing. Live action role play.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. For something to do.”

“And why are you telling me this now?”

I pull at my hair and groan. “Because that’s how I met Baz. He’s not my ex. I’ve never gone out with him. I just made that all up, rather than tell you about the whole LARP business.”

“Why on earth would you concoct all that nonsense, Simon?” Penny’s looking completely perplexed but Baz has this cheeky grin, the absolute wanker.

He’s got a dimple in his left cheek.

Fuck.

“Because I thought you’d be irritated. It’s not something that serves a purpose.”

“Why would I care what you do with your free time?”

Oh my fucking god.

I give my hair another yank. “Aren’t you always telling me I should spend more time on my studies? Keep my social life a bit more contained?”

Penny has the audacity to shrug. “I’m not your keeper. If you need to swing a sword around to let off some steam, far be it from me to argue.”

She turns to Baz and smacks him on the arm. “What were you thinking, going along with all this nonsense of his tonight? I’d not expect that kind of foolishness from you, Baz.”

Baz leans against a bookshelf and flashes her a grin. “Let’s just say my curiosity was piqued, when he threw that ex comment out there. And you know how I love to spin a good story, Bunce. He certainly wasn’t going to pull one over on you by himself.” His eyes light on me and there’s something smouldering in the depths of them. Something I’d like to get a closer look at.

“Well, you’re ridiculous, the both of you,” Penny says. “You deserve each other, honestly.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I’m starved. It’s past time we went to dinner.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Baz’s eyes never leave mine. “I’ll see you Friday then, Snow?”

He used my LARPing alias.

I liked it better when he was calling me Simon.

Penny hooks her arm around his. “Come join us, Baz. Since you and Simon already know each other so well.”

He adjusts his book bag on his shoulder. “I suppose I could do with some dinner.”

Penny keeps her hold on his arm and leans back to look at me behind Baz’s back.

And then she winks.

I think I’m the one that’s been played.

And when Baz’s knee knocks into mine as he squeezes into our booth at the pub I realise I don’t mind one bit.

also on ao3 Little Secrets

#LARPing AU #prompt list #my writing #my fics #thank you for this list #this one leaped out at me #fun list and fun prompts #non magical AU #of course Simon watches Castlevania

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swilmarillion · 5 years

Text

The Art of Life’s Distractions

I write Castlevania fic now, apparently, Join me in the trevorcard rabbit hole. Click the title link to see the tags

“Can you even set foot in a church?” Trevor asked, grinning and fingering the hilt of his blade.

“If you can,” said Alucard dryly, “then I should be fine.”

“Fair enough,” Trevor said. “I should’ve known the bastard would hole up in here.”

“He is a priest,” Alucard said, shrugging.

The church was dark, the doors shut tight. Trevor reached out to try the handle. Alucard put a hand on the door. “Perhaps we should choose a less obvious route of ingress.”

“What did I tell you about big words?”

“It’s two syllables,” Adrian said, rolling his eyes.

“So is coward,” Belmont said, grinning again. “Let’s go.”

He’d regret it, later. He regretted a lot of things, later.

It had seemed so simple at the time. They’d heard rumors of a priest slaying demons with a lance, obliterating them into dust and earning the fear of his congregation. He’d moved onto slaying villagers, meting out justice as he saw fit.

“Sounds like a Belmont weapon,” Sypha had said.

“Sounds like a whole lot of not my problem,” Trevor had said in return.

“If you’re not going to be a Belmont,” she had said, scowling at him, “then at least have the decency to stop other people from pretending to be.”

“I can’t not be a Belmont,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “That’s not how bloodlines work.”

“Says the monster hunter sitting in Dracula’s castle, drinking Dracula’s wine,” said Alucard, smiling his infuriating smile.

And so he had gone to track down the priest, as much to shut Sypha up as for something to do. He’d never been one for idleness, and the long weeks of inactivity had grated on him. He had actually been looking forward to getting back into the field. Had been, anyway, until Alucard had decided to accompany him.

“No,” Trevor had said, scowling. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not particularly thrilled about it either,” Alucard had said. “But Sypha insisted. She’s convinced you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I have a hundred percent track record in that department,” Trevor had protested. “And anyway, since when do you listen to Sypha?”

“Please,” Alucard had said, snorting. “Have you tried not listening to Sypha?”

Trevor had had to admit that Alucard had a point. Sypha was nothing if not persistent. Nagging, he would have called it, provided he was sufficiently out of earshot.

Which is how they had come to be in a dark, damp church, chasing down a priest-turned-necromancer who had started raising demons as a way to drum up attendance at his weekly Mass. It should have been an easy task. The man was a priest, for God’s sake, not a fighter. But the man knew his church, knew its nooks and crannies and hidey-holes, and he’d used them all to avoid an outright fight. He knew he was outmatched, and so he hid, flitting from shadow to shadow, striking out from darkness and melting away again in the face of attack.

Trevor had grown frustrated, flinging out his morning star indiscriminately, taking down chunks of the masonry and pews until the air was thick with mortar dust and debris. He saw the priest streak out from the sacristy, and he let the morning star fly. The man ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the whistling metal as it pounded into the stone altar behind him. Trevor pulled back, but the morning star didn’t budge. It had lodged behind the pillar of the altar and stuck fast. He wrenched it, pulling the chain tight around his hand until the metal bit into his flesh. It didn’t move. He cursed, desperately trying to tug the weapon free.

Movement caught his eye, and he watched the priest rise, the lance in his hand. The scene slowed, crystalized, running in slow motion as it played out. Trevor was stuck, hands tangled in the chain of the beleaguered morning star. The priest drew back his arm, lining up his shot. The lance streaked toward him, and Trevor swore again, his stomach dropping, fear turning his blood to ice. He tried to drop down, but he knew it wouldn’t be fast enough.

Something streaked in front of him, too fast for his eye to make out more than a pale blur. He heard a yelp of pain and a cry of triumph, and white-hot anger flooded him. He jerked his hand free of the chains and reached for his sword, feet flying over the stone floor and up the stairs to the altar. The priest scrabbled backward, defenseless, and Trevor was on him in an instant, sword whistling ominously as it swung true to its mark.

The priest fell at his feet, headless, blood spreading over Trevor’s boots and spilling down the stairs. Trevor was still a moment, panting, watching the corpse. He had seen too much to trust the finality of death. When the man didn’t move, Trevor finally began to relax. He straightened, wiping his sword on his trousers, and grinned. “See that, Alucard?” he said, sliding the sword back into his sheath as he turned. “Told you I didn’t need your—"

He stopped, words dying as his eyes found Alucard and his brain pieced together what his eyes had seen moments before. The lance had pierced Alucard’s side, traveling clean through and pinning him to a pew. Alucard had one hand on the lance, hissing at the pain of it against his palm, and his other hand on the pew. He wrenched himself forward as Trevor ran to him, pulling the lance free of the wood. He was on his knees, one hand still on the lance, the other bracing himself against the floor. His breathing sounded ragged, pained, and blood dripped steadily onto the floor beneath him.

“Don’t pull,” Trevor said, kneeling beside him. “The head is barbed. It won’t come out the way it went in.”

“Then pull it through,” Alucard said, his voice rasping in pain.

Trevor nodded and stood. He grasped the shaft of the lance and put a hand on Alucard’s back. The man was trembling, his chest heaving, and Trevor hesitated, suddenly unsure. “This is going to hurt,” he said.

“Then make it quick,” Alucard spat.

“On three, then,” Trevor said. “One. Two.” He pulled, taking Alucard by surprise, and yanked the shaft of the lance the rest of the way through Alucard’s side. It was, thankfully, a short length, but it couldn’t have been pleasant. Alucard cried out and fell as the weapon slid free, curling onto his uninjured side. Trevor threw the weapon aside and knelt beside Alucard. He pulled up the tatters of Alucard’s shirt and hissed at the sight of the ruined, bleeding flesh beneath. He watched it for a moment, expecting the quick, unsettling healing he had seen so often before, but it didn’t come.

“Consecrated weapon,” Alucard growled, and Trevor grunted in frustrated recognition.

“Fuck,” he swore. “Will it—will you—”

“Eventually,” Alucard said, trying to push himself up.

“Easy,” Trevor said, a rare softness in his voice. He helped Alucard up to a sitting position, steadying him with a hand on Alucard’s shoulder. “It’ll need to be bound, then.” He stripped off his shirt and laid it out on the ground, folding the hem over the collar and rolling the fabric into a binding.

“Really, Belmont,” Alucard, trying for his old aloofness and almost attaining it. “I don’t think—”

“I’m all for bleeding out vampires,” Trevor said, “but not like this.” He pressed the folded fabric to the wound, drawing a hiss from Alucard at the touch. “Besides,” he said, wrapping the sleeves around Alucard’s torso and tying them sight. “Sypha will kill me if I don’t bring you home.”

“Now that,” Alucard said, “I believe.” He sat for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Are you alright?” Trevor asked.

“Never better,” Alucard said.

“Can you stand?”

Alucard was still a moment more. Then he shifted forward to his knees, wincing at the pull of his broken skin. He slid one foot forward, braced himself, and stood. He stumbled forward, and Trevor caught him. “Right,” Trevor said, ducking under Alucard’s arm. “Looks like you need my help—as usual.”

“Fuck off, Belmont,” Alucard said, but he let Trevor take his weight, resting his arm around Trevor’s shoulders. Trevor slid an arm around Alucard’s waist, careful to avoid the wound at his side.

“Come on,” Trevor said, taking a careful step forward, waiting to make sure Alucard could keep pace. “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

They had left their camp a few miles into the woods. It had, like so much else, seemed like a good idea at the time. “Away from any prying idiots,” Belmont had said. It seemed far less clever now.

To his credit, Alucard walked steadily and without complaint. Still, Trevor could feel the weight of him and knew Alucard needed the help. He breathed heavily, his free hand pressed to the wound at his side. Trevor hooked his arm over Alucard’s, holding it against his shoulder to steady him. He tightened his other arm around Alucard’s waist.

They trekked the miles to their campsite in silence. It was the longest Trevor could remember being alone with someone without speaking. It unnerved him. Banter was his deflection, a stupid joke or quick insult his way of keeping the world at bay. He wanted to poke fun at Alucard, to make light of the situation if only to tamp down his own unease, but he knew Alucard would feel the need to respond, and he didn’t want him to waste the breath.

He was relieved when they reached the site and found their packs waiting, undisturbed. Alucard pulled away from him then, taking a few unsteady steps forward before sinking to his knees. “Easy,” Trevor said, breaking the silence at last. Alucard ignored him, fingers fumbling with the clasp on his pack. “What do you want?” Trevor asked, gently pushing his hands away.

“Water,” Alucard rasped.

Trevor rifled through the pack and found the waterskin. He handed it to Alucard, who drank greedily, tipping back his head.

“Jesus,” Trevor said, snatching it back. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Best get out of spewing distance, then,” Alucard said, managing a weak grin.

“Idiot,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes. He capped the waterskin and set it on the ground within Alucard’s reach. “What else do you need?

“Nothing,” Alucard said, sitting back on his haunches and easing himself to the ground.

“Don’t be proud, Alucard,” Trevor said, squatting beside him.

“Don’t mother me, Belmont,” Alucard retorted. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Asshole,” Trevor said.

“I need sleep,” Alucard said, curling on his uninjured side. “That’s all. I think I can manage that much on my own.”

“Too bad if you can’t,” Trevor said. He softened a little, watching Alucard’s hand ghost gingerly over the wound at his side. “Get some rest.”

Alucard’s eyes had already fluttered shut, and his breathing began to slow. “Thank you, Belmont,” he said, the words barely a murmur.

Trevor nodded and turned away.

He busied himself for a few hours, keeping his mind focused on the familiar tasks of setting up camp. He checked his traps and found a rabbit caught in the snare. That was dinner settled, then. He checked the other traps, the ones meant for more worrisome prey and prying eyes and made sure they were in working order. He went back to the camp and remade the fire, letting it burn as he went to refill their waterskins from the stream. He came back and skinned the rabbit, roasting it over the fire as he methodically cleaned his sword.

Only when the rabbit was crisp and dripping did he turn over his shoulder to look at Alucard. The man lay as he had when Trevor had left him, curled on his side, one hand pressed against the binding over his wound. It had grown dark, and Alucard looked paler than usual in the firelight. His hair was a tangle about his head, his shirt a bloodied mess. Trevor watched him for a moment. The man was unnaturally still, and Trevor felt a pang of irrational fear stab through him.

He stood up and crept to Alucard’s side, squatting next to him. He reached out a tentative hand and laid it against Alucard’s chest, his touch light so as not to disturb him. For a moment, he felt nothing, and panic welled up inside him. Then Alucard breathed, and Trevor let out his breath in a sigh of relief, feeling the soft rise of Alucard’s chest beneath his palm.

“Don’t worry, Belmost,” Alucard said, startling him. “You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

“Pity,” Trevor said. “How do you feel?”

Alucard’s eyes fluttered open. “Like I got stabbed,” he said. “With a consecrated weapon, no less.”

“Pretty good, then.”

“Never fucking better.”

“Well,” Trevor said, feeling a little relieved that Alucard hadn’t lost his sense of humor, “I can’t do much for a stab wound, but I do have food and water, if you want it.”

Alucard shook his head. “It’s gotten cold,” he said.

“You can move closer to the fire.” Alucard’s eyes flickered to the flames. There was ten feet of distance between him and the fire. “Come on,” Trevor said, guessing the direction of his thoughts. He slid Alucard’s arm around his shoulders and helped him up, steadying him as he had that afternoon. They walked slowly to the fire, and Trevor helped him to the ground. Alucard sat, knees drawn up, wincing as he settled himself.

“You’re going to be alright, aren’t you?” Trevor asked, eyeing him warily. “Because I can’t decide which would be worse: dragging your stupid corpse back to your asinine castle or listening to Sypha bitch at me for leaving your stupid corpse out here to rot.”

“Fortunately for you, I’m not quite petty enough to die just to make you find out.”

“Seriously, though,” Trevor said, looking him up and down dubiously. Alucard sat hunched, one hand at his side, eyes closed against the brightness of the flames. “Are you going to heal?”

“I’m working on it, Belmont,” Alucard said, opening his eyes to glare at Trevor. “It takes a little longer when there’s consecration involved.”

“Good,” said Trevor, hiding his doubt behind a grin. “Because I’m getting a little tired of carrying your sorry ass around.”

“You weren’t carrying me,” Alucard said, exasperated, turning toward Trevor. “And I told you—ah.” He winced, shifting slightly to favor his injured side. He shivered, and Trevor took pity on him.

“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his cloak and draping it over Adrian’s shoulders.

“Not necessary,” Alucard said, though he drew the cloak around himself with his free hand nonetheless.

“You should lie down,” Trevor said. “Rest some more. We have a lot of ground to cover to get back.”

“For once,” Alucard said, “you may be right.” He shifted his weight gingerly, easing himself onto the ground beside Trevor. He sighed heavily, relaxing against the ground, shifting Trevor’s cloak closer around himself. “Thank you, Belmont,” he said again, eyes drifting closed, his voice barely a murmur.

“Rest,” said Trevor in answer, turning back to the fire.

#castlevania #trevorcard #trevor/alucard #my writing #enemies to friends to lovers #canon typical vampire bullshit

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omegarosemain · 5 years

Link

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warnings:

Categories: M/F, M/M, M/M/F

Fandom: Castlevania (Cartoon)

Relationships: Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades/Adrian Tepes

Characters: Adrian Tepes, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Belmont Family, Dracula Vlad Tepes, Lisa Tepes

Additional Tags: Time Travel, idk why i had to, (i do know why it’s cuz i wanted interactions with their families without them being dead), past trauma, reliving trauma in a way, it’s a slowburn maybe?, but i’m bad at delaying gratification so, the ot3 is a preestablish relationship, the first chapter just doesn’t start with them, okay?, no beta we die like women, hurt/comfort, fluff, play fighting, trevor’s sisters!, they’re powerful ladies

Language: English

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Torturing Our Boi, Naturally

Trevor woke up in a soft bed.

He was relaxed in a way that had his body struggling to react to his initial panic at waking up somewhere that he hadn’t fallen asleep--that place, of course, being Adrian’s creepy dungeon. The sensation was odd enough to have him on alert.

There were embers glowing in the hearth, and a series of faint creaks like someone was trying to maneuver quietly a few rooms away, and a large window to his left. It was pre-dawn, by the look of the sky, and he was likely on the second floor.

Maybe that wave of magic had knocked him out, and Sypha and Adrian carried him up to bed...but why not their bedroom? In fact, this didn’t look like any bedroom in the castle, even if it was strangely familiar. And why weren’t they there with him, at least one of them, instead of lurking a few rooms away?

Uneasy, he reached for any of the weapons he kept on him. There were none on his person, which would be understandable if Sypha or Adrian had put him to bed, but the weapons also weren’t at the bedside table. Both of them knew him to be paranoid without his weapons near.

Also, he was wearing a nightgown like one he hadn’t in years. Even since being a permanent residence of the castle and not being forced to sleep in his only set of clothes, Trevor would rather sleep naked or with only undergarments.

In his search for his weapons, all he came across was a small dagger beneath his pillow.

It was his dagger, most certainly. Itfit his hand perfectly and had the crest of the Belmont family on its hilt. It was the dagger he was first trained to defend himself with. A Beolmont’s first weapon had always been presented like any normal child might receive a doll, with as much ceremony as their first steps.

It had also been lost to the fire that took his home and family twelve years prior.

He suddenly recognized the room he was in. It had been his since he was eight, and had moved out of the “nursery” that he and his twin sister had shared since they were infants. Catherine had redecorated the room and it had become hers, and he was left in the smallest room at the farthest end of the hall.

Trevor took a sharp breath.

Released it.

Took another breath.

What the fuck was going on?

Sypha had warned that the magic of the hidden dungeon had been old and deep, and Adrian had admitted that his father had taken possession of the castle almost five hundred years ago and still hadn’t know all its secrets. Was the magic there primed to...what? Look into his memories and recreate the worst moment(s) of his life?

If that was the case, though, Trevor should be outside and it should be closer to midnight than morning, and it should be snowing. He also shouldn’t have the free will to break the movements he had made before.

So what was this? An elaborate mind trick? Some sort of...interactive vision of a past he tried desperately to forget?

((Or maybe, a small part of him thought, I really am back in the days before that fire. The normal aches from his accumulated injuries and old scars were suspiciously absent, and his old dagger was much too small to fit so well in his should-be-grown-up hands.))

Trevor slipped from the bed, bare feet making contact with the wooden floor. He shivered slightly, involuntarily.

He dressed quickly in clothes he knew were meant for the daily life of a Belmont--for the training, and movement, and practicality their every day demanded--rather than some of the more aristocratic pieces. His muscle memory directed him to the water asin heating by the hearth to wash his face, and some combination of memory and a long-forgotten habit had him smoothing down the bedding. He slipped on his house-shoes and tucked his dagger into his sleeve before leaving the room.

The hall was achingly familiar, lined with doors that lead to his sisters’ rooms. There were a few portraits on the wall of long-dead ancestors, and a few paintings he knew Gabrielle made in her free time. Used to make. Still might make.

This was the family wing of the house. Like no time had passed at all, not years of drinking himself into oblivion or sleeping out in the cold or repressing all memories of home, he knew where everything was.

Louise was at the mouth of the hall, then Gabrielle, then Colette. Rounding around was Trevor’s, then Annette and Eleanore’s, then Catherine’s across from Louise. Trevor’s parents were on the landing. They would be the first line of defense if they had an intruder, Trevor realized now, as well as providing a barrier for children attempting to sneak out.

He skipped the squeaky floorboard and the creaky fourth step that lead to the main part of the house.

“Annette, is that you?”

Trevor froze halfway down the steps, fighting the urge to pull his dagger on his own mother. Or the memory of her, or whatever it was that was happening to him.

“Trevor? What are you doing creeping about so early?”

He turned to see Helaine Belmont standing at the top of the stairs like a spectre of the past, her dark hair braided over one shoulder and still dressed in only a nightdress. She smiled softly at him, a little confused by her youngest. Trevor had been the type to have to be forcibly roused as a child, he recalled now. Usually Louise had been the one to pull him out of bed as just routinely as a daily chore.

Something horrible and bitter clawed its way up his throat.

“What day is it?” he asked, forcing the words to come.

“Wednesday, dear,” answered his mother, confusion giving way to concern. “Why?”

You all burn on a Wednesday night.

I am an orphan on Thursday.

The church wants us all dead.

“What’s wrong Trevor?”

Why couldn’t he just say it? Was this the magic of the dungeon room, forcing a re-living where you feel like you could change things, but always lacked the ability to do so?

His mother was descending toward him, reaching out and despite himself he fell into her embrace. With the stairs and his twelve-year-old height, he was able to bury his face against her chest.

She spoke to him, carding her fingers through his hair. She said assurances, instructed him to breathe, told him everything was alright.

“You’re not real,” he choked out, even as he held onto her.

“Of course I’m real.” Her voice was calm, and strong. “Just remember our check.”

“Your-your favorite-room-” he tried. “Your favorite room is the-the green room.”

“And your favorite weapon is the war hammer,” she answered evenly. And it had been, back when he was twelve and just being allowed to start specialized weapon training. If it was the day he feared it was, he should have been given his first lesson with the whip only a few weeks earlier.

Slowly his breathing slowed so that he wasn’t gasping for air like a drowned man. His mother’s arms remained around him. When was the last time he had been allowed jsut to exist like this? Drawing comfort without feeling as though he had to give some back?

There was movement at the landing that caused him to jump.

It was Annette, looking just as she had before she died. Sixteen or so, always an early riser. She had their father’s curls and the green eyes of their mother, her hair pulled back and her silver staff in hand. Going for an early-morning warmup.

“Morning, Mama. Trevor.” Her eyes lingered over Trevor, undoubtedly trying to suss out what was going on as she squeezed past them to get past.

Their mother responded in kind, her lack of explanation enough to spur Annette on her way.

Once she had disappeared to the back garden, their mother gently asked, “What was all that about, dear?”

Trevor found himself searching for what to say. Could he tell her? What would it accomplish, if he was nothing but a child?

“I-I...I think I might have…”

She remained silent, waiting.

“I-it was a nightmare, I think. So vivid it could have been real.”

“A memory?”

“A vision, maybe. I don’t know.”

Visions were not unheard of within their family, but they were rare and only came at the most dire of times.

She just hummed. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Trevor watched in a daze as his mother, still in her nightgown, shooed the cook away and began to prepare breakfast. The mug of tea she made for him sat before him, leeching warmth into his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to drink it.

One after another his sisters spilled in.

First was Colette yawning, then Gabrielle with too much energy for someone freshly awake, then Annette done with training. Eleanor stumbled in with horrendous bedhead, Catherine right behind, trailed by Louise.

As soon as the last three entered, Catherine squeezed into Trevor’s chair beside him. If he hadn’t felt so far away he was certain he would cry at the press of his twin sister’s body against his side, one he had thought he’d forgotten until he’d abruptly remembered.

Catherine and him had shared a room long past they had to, and they did every lesson together. She used to be the person he told everything to, even the stupid crush he’d had on the gardener’s son.

“Didn’t have to drag you from bed today,” Louise teased, ruffling his hair as she passed.

He didn’t move, couldn’t answer. Their mother had to excuse him, telling them that he’d had a rather frightening nightmare. Catherine pushed herself, if possible, closer.

“Sticky rolls?” Pavel Belmont asked as he entered the now full kitchen. “What’s the occasion?”

Trevor seemed to wake up at the voice of his father. The scent of cinnamon and baking pastry was in the air. The cup between his hands was no warmer than the rest of the room. Catherine lined up against him knee to hip to elbow to shoulder. His mother still in her night clothes while everyone else was dressed. The dagger up his sleeve and his feet that didn’t quite touch the ground. His entire family that had been dead for over a decade standing all around him.

He folded in on himself, a sob falling from his lips unbidden. Catherine startled away to be swiftly replaced by their father.

“What’s wrong-”

“Trevor-”

“Is he-”

His sisters seemed to be trying to say something at once, as Trevor gasped around his sobbing as it all seemed to break at once.

Their mother sternly hushed them and for a few moments all was silent aside from Trevor’s hitched breathes.

She was on Trevor’s other side, then, brushing his hair aside and wiping away the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Now, then, I think you should tell us about that maybe-vision of yours, yeah?”

Trevor leaned into his father, feeling as his arms tightened just so around him at the prospect of a vision.

“The-the church. They’re gonna come tonight, with a mob. They’re gonna-gonna burn the house down, with-burn it with everyone inside.”

There was a gasp from someone, but Trevor was only picking up steam. It didn’t matter if this was only an illusion, it felt real--so real that he would never be able to live with himself if he didn’t try to save them.

“They’ll come after dark, in the snow. I-I snuck out, to see the first snowfall. I do it sometimes. I had to watch and listen--I couldn’t move I was frozen--and the fire burned for hours. I heard your screaming but they threw something on the fire--they barred the first floor windows and doors and stabbed Eleanore when she tried to jump from the second story--It wasn’t until the next morning when there was nothing left but ash that they pulled out the bodies. And I-I was left all alone in the woods and I knew everyone was dead. I stayed there for days, hoping someone else had gotten out but-”

“Shh, Trevor, it’s alright,” his mother soothed, something frayed in her voice. “Take a deep breathe, dear.”

“We have to leave,” he said frantically, clinging to her wrist. “Before they come, we have to go before they-”

“We will.”

And just like that he slumped like a puppet without its strings.

Many things could still go wrong, of course. The mob would realize quickly that there were no screams coming from the house, or anyone trying to leap from the windows. They could track them, like they tried to track Trevor when they finally realized they were missing one of the children through the mess that was his family home and the bodies which also belonged to the servants. It would be easier to follow all of them immediately rather than him, alone, days later, even if he had been hungry and traumatized.

Hearing that they were aware, though, knowing that things would be different, made all the possibilities bearable.

His mother stood and Trevor saw the frightened faces of his sisters. Even Louise, the eldest, the one who never seemed to be thrown off by the world around her, was shaken.

“Breakfast time, I think,” their mother said with a small clap of her hands. “We have a busy day ahead of us.”

Their father followed her instructions of securing everyone a fresh sticky roll, tense but not afraid like his children.

“Mother-” Colette began, holding tight to her fork.

“Don’t worry, there is a plan in place for evacuation. There are, of course, our safe houses across the continent, and other places for us to go. Eat. We will be alright now that we have the warning.”

Trevor was too stressed to care much about the strained silence, but he did miss Catherine taking up half his chair.

#castlevania #trephacard #adrian tepes #alucard #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #time travel #my fic #ao3 link #ao3 #hurt/comfort #belmont family #castlevania fanfic #chapter one #a backwards fate

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ruiniel · 2 years

Text

Fandom: Castlevania Series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Characters: Alucard, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades (for now)

Additional Tags: Post-Castlevania Season 2, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Trephacard, Grief/Mourning, Mental Anguish, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, POV Alternating, Bonding, Friendship, Polyamory, More tags coming

Chapter warning: brief non-graphic depiction of death

VII.

The walls are mirror-slick as everywhere else here, set in strange patterns of gray and faded yellowish stone. The air is different, heavier with each row of descending staircases, each corridor they cross lined with heavyset doors on either side. A sickly smell follows them for some time now, like a man’s dying breath, and the silence between their words weighs on their steps.

The lower levels are, as expected, labyrinthine and darker than the rest of this place. There’s also more of them than Trevor had expected, which is why he’s regretting his suggestion to check this portion of the castle today. But it’s better to know what they’re literally sitting on, and they’ve already looked outside for any structural damage that might weaken external defenses — and found surprisingly little, though Sypha had suggested she place seals on the windows shattered in the aftermath of battle.

Trevor considers this should not differ from the Hold — a vast underground space sheltering the bones of past legacies — if one discounts the overt creepiness and lingering malice of ages, of course. “What’s behind these?” He points at one heavy wooden entrance. He’s talking to pass the time, to dilute the unease he also sees in Sypha’s bearing as she walks on with caution. Alucard seems to have no such qualms, but then, this is his home, isn’t it?

“We’ve reached more of the castle cellars,” says Alucard, “Used for storage, mainly: wine, weapons, armor, old furniture…”

Trevor snorts. “Gremlins, possessed skeletons, the undead, the hounds of Hell…”

“... Objects gained as tribute or simply amassed over the centuries,” Alucard continues tiredly, giving the hunter a narrowed side-eye.

“... hoarded. I think ‘hoarded’ is the word you’re looking for, Alucard.” He should not feel this smug, but he won’t miss a rebound on Alucard’s nitpicky ranting that time in the Hold.

“Will you stop?” Alucard rolls his eyes, but his lips quiver at the edges. “Either way, nothing to catch a Belmont of repute by surprise, I’m sure.”

Trevor grumbles, falls back. He’s sort of started enjoying Alucard’s wordy bites, which in itself is somewhat worrying.

“Centuries…” Sypha echoes and the word grows in magnitude, follows them on the path ahead as they find another flight of stairs, more cold stone and silence. The ceiling is lower the more they carry through the belly of the castle, the air mustier.

“How many levels are there?” Trevor asks, eyes on the bolted doors, then on another slight, dark body scurrying away from their torches.

Alucard brings a finger to his chin, then shrugs. “I actually don’t know. I remembered, later, there are plans of the entire structure locked somewhere in the library, but I’ve not checked them in years.”

“Great,” Trevor says. “That would’ve been useful to bring along. Trust we don’t drop into another dimension or anything, not too keen on those.”

“Yearning for adventure already, Trevor?” Sypha turns briefly to look his way as Trevor falls in step with Alucard.

“Nothing as exciting, no…” muses Alucard in a way that serves to keep the hunter alert, “but then, this is more than a mere structure of metal and stone.”

“Obviously, the thing can teleport,” mutters Trevor.

“... could,” adds Alucard carefully, just as Sypha looks over her shoulder at them again.

“As I said before, I did not break it, the resistance—”

Alucard raises his hands in a placating gesture, smiling. “Either way, the building itself is a technological and supernatural meld, as my father weaved the use of electricity and advanced mechanics within its core engine.”

“What was that word?” asks Trevor as they turn a corner, and, surprise: more stairs. The air is humid, chillier, their breaths become misty as they speak.

“Think of it as lightning,” Alucard says, at which Sypha turns, index finger raised, eyes shining in the firelight; a flash of something bright flickers at her fingertip.

“Showoff,” Trevor smiles, cannot keep the fondness from his voice. “Go on, professor.” He’s enabling this, yes, but it has them talking, which nowadays he’ll take over brooding or being locked away in their own minds.

“Lightning is nothing but electrical currents, forming amid the clouds because of differences in electrical charges between said clouds.”

“So that’s the white light used for some fixtures here,” Sypha says, switching the torch she’s been holding from one hand to the other.

Alucard nods. “And it’s not a new concept, not at all. The ancients—”

The stench hits them first; slow but persistent. It’s a choking odor, and as they walk, it turns into the worst reek Trevor’s ever known in his life, even if he’s no stranger to any of it. The fetor is clearly that of decay, becoming stronger and bolder. Sypha covers her mouth and nose with her sleeve and Trevor does the same as he advances slowly, fingers hovering over the handle of his whip. He looks at Alucard, a question in his gaze.

“I sense no threat,” Alucard says, though his sword slices the air at his side and he’s heading straight towards the entryway ahead.

One step, and another, and the rot is so prevalent it makes Trevor glad he missed a meal today, as his stomach sees fit to rebel and turn against him. He walks forward, Sypha at his side when they emerge onto a long, elevated platform.

Below them, rows upon rows of neatly arranged pens. On another side, the torchlight reveals the smooth metal surface of innumerable canisters, most of them tipped over with lids fallen off and stained dark by their contents.

Trevor’s eyes widen. “What… the fuck is this.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as horrified as it does, no, but in the haggard light Alucard’s face is stony, golden eyes fixated on the entirety of what lies before them. “For his armies,” he says after a moment of stilted silence. His voice breaks at the end like a snipped thread, and Trevor can barely keep from reaching out to him, so clear is the despair and shame writ on his face.

The hunter wants to say something but, to his surprise, his tongue is useless in his mouth and his focus is skewed, narrowed on the brief tremble curling Alucard’s lip. He nears anyway, because his own reluctance is not enough to prevent him from touching Alucard, from placing a hand on his shoulder even if all he feels is that hardness taking muscles over before a fight; Trevor doesn’t remove his hand. Alucard doesn’t move at all.

“They must have all drowned, when the castle was turned at Brăila,” says Sypha, standing stiffly with her back to them.

Alucard steps forward, Trevor’s hand sliding off his shoulder as he goes to grip at the railing, staring out.

“Sypha.”

“Yes.”

“Burn it down. To ashes.”

Sypha doesn’t ask, knows not to. She lowers her head, nods and turns to face the pens, rolling her shoulders. “Get back.”

They obey. The Speaker raises her hands before her, palms spread wide, murmuring words foreign to their ears; and sets it all afire.

They back away from the burst of heat, though Sypha levels the intensity soon enough, and it doesn’t take long. Trevor notices the change to the set of her shoulders, a sign she’s tapping into much of her resources to do this swiftly, while also keeping them safe.

They draw further away as she makes a wide sweep with both arms, coating everything with a thin layer of ice.

“Right,” Trevor says when it’s done and Sypha turns to them, fingers curling and uncurling and sweat beading her brow. “We’ve seen enough for today. Let’s get back.”

“Gladly,” Alucard says, then bids them to come. He walks on without further comment, the sword slipping back into its dark scabbard with a mournful hiss.

Battling the sudden urge to catch hold of him — and then what? — Trevor meets Sypha’s stare, and everything in it. They follow Alucard swiftly, swiftly, more than eager to get away.

The trip back to the upper level is silent, interrupted by the occasional drip of water on stone and the grinding of Alucard’s teeth.

The late afternoon rays are warm on his cheek as Trevor ascends a flight of stairs, Sypha by his side. They’re heading to where their chambers are located and, since Alucard excused himself soon after they returned, they reluctantly left him to his own.

Golden light blossoms around them, layering patterns on their clothes and faces, on the stone workings and slanted roofs of towers. Sypha is thoughtful, and Trevor only wishes the past would stop crashing in with surprises of the like they’d just stumbled over.

Their steps are slow; they’re not hurrying anywhere now. They’ve reached one of those smaller, oblique bridges to ascend and reach the opposite tower. Trevor’s stopped wondering at the impossible geometry of this place.

“We cannot yield,” Sypha says out of nowhere, her face turned to the West.

“We won’t.”

“Things will get better,” she says, and stops walking, a hand on the banister. “I know it.” She smiles at him, softened by the blush of light on her face.

“I’ll be frank,” Trevor crosses his arms, “I don’t fully share your mindset. But I hope you’re right?”

“Hope,” Sypha looks towards the mountains, then back at him. “We can work with that.”

Trevor smiles back; it feels good, after today. “I’ll seek him out later to see how he’s doing.”

Sypha raises a hand and runs it down his crumpled tunic at his chest. “Good.” She looks up at him. “Remember that stormy day when we spoke about staying?”

“Half of it,” Trevor says, wanting to sound cheeky and failing.

“You were so set on leaving again,” her hand drops from his chest.

“I was running,” Trevor says. “It was all I’ve ever known, mistaking aimlessness for safety. Been working on it, though.”

Another thought steals away her smile as she suddenly turns and places her palms on the stone edge, then braces herself on one foot to lift herself up.

“Whoa, careful,” Trevor jumps, his grin frozen, and it feels strange; too much, too sudden. The abyss lies below. “What is it with you and bridges?”

She rises to full height, standing tall atop the mossy stone surface and looking at the view beneath the golden afternoon. Her tousled hair is fringed by fire-light from the sun, her face flushed with liveliness and confidence, looking for a breath as though she’d forgotten all about her own humanity and the power of sorrow only to dance on bare feet atop the world, on the edge of death.

“You fear for me, Trevor?” she asks as powerful gusts send her robes shivering about her body, snapping around her shoulders, hips and thighs; there’s a spark in her gaze, the one daring you to push farther and see what you get. Trevor’s come to know it well from their early days of travel, when he couldn’t stop needling and snarking at Alucard or when he was being (now he sees) a difficult asshat.

He watches the woman, the Speaker Magician, who can melt metal and use lightning as a whip, who never abandons hope and who cares for him. “Yes. No. Never. Look, you’re obviously better equipped to deal with anything coming your way than I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you, does it?”

Satisfaction glows on her face at his answer. She raises her arms, spreads them wide beneath the sun; always like Sypha, standing tall and unbowed like she owns the sky. And then, he still sees her, stiff and sad in a room full of dusty knowledge, telling him she’s lonely before accepting his flimsy attempts at comfort.

“It’s good to remember danger sometimes, the familiarity of it; to feel it pulsing in your blood,” she says. “It’s no less a part of this world than we are.” She turns her face to the sun, to the wind. “Do you hear it, Trevor?”

Is this conversation slowly steering into a direction that goes just over his head? “Hear... what, the World?”

She nods.

Trevor thinks about this for a moment. Carrying through wind and rain, angry with the storm. Content (sometimes) in the sun; misery and melancholy on the grayest of days, murderous flooding of guilt and earthquakes of the mind. He mostly has bitter cold winters and hungry summers to show for his experience until recently, adding sprinkles of occasional kindness. “I’ve known this world in vastly different ways than you have, I think.” Not to mention inescapable things such as duty and circumstance and choice to add flavor and make it all exciting, because really, what is the true extent of humankind without misery? Trevor might never find out, but looking at her now, he wonders.

“I’m uncertain I like the World too much either, as a whole. You know, I can’t get myself to give a flat rat’s ass about it actually, even though we’ve just… I reckon we saved it, didn’t we?” His smile fades. Not something he knows how to frame properly, yet. Can’t recall a purposeful conversation about meaning and existence to save his life.

No, wait, there’s one; shortest, most effective kick in the ass he ever got, and it was him.

You’re either the last son of a warrior dynasty or a lucky drunk.

Which is it?

Doing what they did, Trevor remembering what he was meant to be doing, despite the sour taste left by his fellow humans through all the wrongs and the years of struggle, felt right. It felt just, though, for Alucard’s sake, a part of him wishes it had been different. That it had never happened at all, even if that means they would not have met. He thinks back to that prophecy, to how it’s all ‘supposed’ to end.

Sypha shakes her head, sliding down from her balancing act to sit on the edge before him, legs dangling and heels striking the stone. “You can’t care about everything all the time.�� She leans forward; on impulse, Trevor takes a step closer. “That would be ridiculous to try.” Then, “What is it you do care about?”

“Er…” Not a follow-up he expected (should have) but now Sypha awaits his answer, watching him closely, the depths of her eyes threaded with the warmest light.

Trevor holds her stare. “You. And Alucard?” Oh god-help-him. “Whatever... whatever it is we’re trying to do here.”

Sypha jumps down from the edge, taking his hands in hers; Trevor lets her. “I’ll hold you to that, Trevor Belmont.”

The rush of his heart warms his face. Her hands are warmer in his, and he can’t think of anything deep or meaningful enough to say that would do this justice. So Trevor flashes his bastard-grin, a last resort. “You better.”

It’s evenfall by the time they’ve washed and changed, and Trevor makes his way down to the refurbished study. Sypha hasn’t joined yet, but he finds Alucard, calm and focused as he sits behind that desk again, poring over a piece of parchment. He’s rolled his shirt up to his elbows, and Trevor doesn’t miss the bottles — three, two of which are empty — of wine set on the floor.

All right. “Alucard,” he greets, and Alucard looks up at him in much the same way he does lately, with a peculiar, confused fondness, as though he’s surprised Trevor’s still here.

“Trevor,” he nods.

Trevor nears and sets the nai he brought down on a tea table, along with a piece of cloth and a propolis solution Sypha had found in the herbalist section of the laboratory.

He wasn’t going to do anything with it, at first. He’d retrieved the instrument from its home of dust and mites on sentimental impulse, to keep as a memory of a past long buried, a token of the youth he once was. But something about it lying abandoned in his room coincided with the sudden, urgent need to do something with his hands — and saying their names out loud that night after so many years had been like a chisel breaking through hardened layers of ice. Now, memories come and go in streams, cutouts of a life when he still thought their family was strong and fearless and unbeatable. Death and dying came with the trade — Gabriel Belmont knew it, Marie his mother knew it moreso, with seven children to love and fight for. But neither expected, despite the murmurs and the dissent, for those they protected to turn against them.

Trevor buries the thought and walks over to Alucard’s desk, finding him working on the sketch he’s seen before. He’s added more detail to it, depicting some sort of contraption.

“Care to explain?”

Alucard runs a long finger over the plan. “This would be a mechanism enabling access to the Hold, with a system that makes use of a counterweight,” he shows Trevor, who places a palm onto the desk, leaning closer.

“Looks straightforward enough,” he comments, impressed with Alucard’s skill and creativity in these matters but, considering his tutelage, it should come as no surprise.

“We need something that’s fast to build and easy to maintain. This should do, for now,” adds Alucard, looking up at him. Bruised circles hang beneath his eyes, and he looks… older?

“I’ll let you get on with it.” Trevor straightens, walks back and plops down onto a large cushioned divan they’ve dragged here from another chamber. It’s set close to the fireplace, which had gone cold and gray. This won’t do, so Trevor rises again and kneels before it, reaching for the basket with logs and kindling. He works slowly, thinking back on their discovery earlier today, on Alucard’s reaction — or lack of one, rather; he buries things too deep. Remind you of someone?

He snorts at himself and throws a piece of timber in, — spitefully — then another before looking out the window, to the darkening of the light. He sets back to his task then pauses, placing both hands on his thighs when the kindling takes to flame. “Alucard.” He waits.

“Yes?”

“Are you good? After all that, today.” Trevor bites down on his lip. ‘Good’ is a relative concept when looking at Alucard nowadays, but it’s all they have, and the worst that can happen is being told to mind his own damn business; a risk he’s willing to take. Trevor looks to his left, gaze running over Alucard’s expressionless mien as he stares at his work.

“What is it you want to know?”

“No, that’s not how this works,” Trevor shakes his head and rises, lies back down on the divan and kicks his shoes off. “You don’t have to answer unless you feel like talking about it.”

Alucard smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His voice is soft when he speaks. “Then, yes, I am ‘good.’” He pauses from his drawing and rests his cheek in his palm, watching Trevor with that same stare from earlier.

Trevor wonders if that wine has anything to do with it. He shrugs, taking the lie without further comment. What can one say after witnessing their forebear’s desperate goal to end human life? Alucard had seen the plans for it, he once told them so, but seeing it on paper and seeing it with one’s own eyes are vastly different things. The remains they found were of animals likely used as livestock to be drained, sure, but it didn’t take a genius to imagine what those canisters contained. Trevor looks back down, picking up his nai, at a loss, when the door opens and Sypha walks in. Her hair is frizzy and wet from a recent bath, and she’s wearing her shift, her long white-and-black shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

Trevor smiles in greeting, gaze drawn to the shawl that’s slipping over bare collarbones, then lower, to a small, stylized tree etched into her skin, over her upper sternum. Sypha goes over to Alucard, who lifts his gaze to watch her near. “You’re almost done,” she says, standing by him and running a hand through his hair as she peeks at his work, before returning and making herself comfortable next to Trevor.

“What’s the meaning behind that?” Trevor asks, pointing at the blue-black markings on her skin.

Sypha looks at herself. “Oh, this is a symbolic representation of my tree.”

Trevor quirks an eyebrow. “Your… your tree?”

“My tree,” she folds her legs beneath her, removing the shawl, fingers brushing over the tattoo. “It represents my tribe and my personal journey gaining and sharing knowledge.”

Trevor leans back, forgetting about the nai. “Your tribe… the Codrii Speakers, was it?”

“You remember,” Sypha smiles, scratching Zori behind the ear, who followed her and wasted no time jumping in her lap — she’s been feeding him, one can tell. He settles down, watching Trevor curiously before setting to nibble and lick at the pads of his paws.

“I know it’s hard to believe but I am quite observant, I’ll have you know,” Trevor says, reaching over to pet the cat, who bumps his nose into his hand. He looks back to Alucard, now busying himself with a ruler to measure something on his design.

Sypha snorts in good humor. “The lore is extensive, the stories we preserve are endless, as you can imagine. We use many techniques to share and remember: through song, or renditions by the evening fires, where each member of the tribe shares newly gained knowledge from their travels that would serve others.”

“So, how do you do it?” Trevor reaches, taps a finger against her temple. “How do you remember?”

“Well… we rely on collective sharing between generations in a set pattern.”

“Uh-huh…?”

“… and part of our activities as apprentices were daily gatherings and recitation evenings.”

She gazes over at Alucard, her fingers gliding through the cat’s warm fur. “At initiation, when the apprentice is ready to take on the Speaker's lifestyle and creed, we each create what we call our Tree of Tales, which we ‘water’ with knowledge. As time passes, we ‘add’ flowers and leaves to our branches, and each represents a story — some large and layered, some small — a piece of lore we’ve each learned and will forever influence our perception of the world, love, death, loss, happiness, grief and so on.”

“And you, personally, still do this?” Trevor asks. He’s seen her at certain times of the day, sitting still and silent, eyes closed and hands resting on her knees.

“Of course. It’s a habit by now, honed by years of practice. I meditate regularly, going from branch to branch, from leaf to flower. To remember, to grow my Tree. Never thought you’d be so interested in this, of all people.”

Trevor props his head against the cushioned backrest, then picks up the nai and cloth. “I’ve had some dealings with Speaker folk before.”

“You have?” Sypha follows his movements, how he sets to clean each pipe.

“Yeah. It was right after I ran away, when they put the old manor to flame.” He looks around the study, sees Alucard rising from his desk, striding over and falling into his armchair facing them. Zori jumps down from Sypha’s lap, padding over to sniff at his ankles.

“What happened?” asks Sypha, hugging her knees to her chest.

“A blade caught me here, during that night,” he points at the red scar cutting across his eye and cheek, “and, of course, I had no one to turn to, so I hid in the woods for a few days; the wound got infected, and next I recall, I awoke staring at the sky with faces hanging over me. They said they were Speakers and that I needed not fear them.” He’s cleaning the nai as he speaks, one tube at a time.

Sypha leans closer, reaches to cup his face. Trevor starts. “No one should ever have to go through that. Least of all a child.”

“No need to feel sorry for me,” Trevor mumbles. “I was just fucking fortunate that day. They nursed me back to health, and afterwards, even asked me if I wanted to join them. Imagine that.”

“Speaker Trevor!” Sypha goes, ruffling his hair. “I can see it now.”

“No thanks,” Trevor pulls away, but Sypha just presses closer, head falling against his shoulder as she laughs and starts listing the various traits of would-be Speaker-Trevor.

It’s natural, her lightness of mood, nothing forced or fabricated. Still, unease grips him, has his blood racing — he looks up to Alucard, sitting relaxed and silent with his feet propped on an ottoman, the cat sleeping in his lap. He’s watching them, and guilt twists in Trevor’s gut. But there’s no judgment or disapproval on his face, or anything else Trevor might expect; he’s smiling.

Chapter VIII

On the Speaker headcanon: the inspiration for the tree of tales was JRR Tolkien's Tree of Amalion.

A/N:

#ruiniel:fanfiction #castlevania AU #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania netflix

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placesyoucallhome · 4 years

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Three characters similar to mine : Q’ruhka

Trevor Belmont: Humor and sarcasm in the face of the bullshit he has to deal with, what, exactly, is the point of taking everything so seriously? He needs a drink and a break, thank you very much. You’d think I’d have based Q’ruhka almost entirely off of Trevor at first glance, except for the fact that I hadn’t watched Castlevania until nearly a year after making him. But it fits far too well and had the added bonus of solidifying a type of whip as his weapon of choice. It rather helped that I’ve always had a deep love for the ‘normal guy in a group/world of people with superhuman abilities’ character type.

Howl: Charming as hell when he wants to be, and also petty as hell when it really probably isn’t helping. Surprisingly knowledgeable of odd and often esoteric subjects, despite the ‘pretty airhead’ exterior, that knowledge is often more focused on the goal of staying independent even if it could be put to better use elsewhere. Some part of him is still terrified and selfish, constantly running away from things, but it can be overcome with patience and affection. And, quite frankly, Ruhka would likely throw a similarly childish fit if someone ruined his hair (or tail).

Ada Wong: Enigmatic, pragmatic, and regardless of current alliances, personal goals trump most things. Not above using looks to get what he wants should it suits him, the merchant and pirate in Ruhka can be similarly cold and calculated, and not afraid to get his hands dirty in the name of personal progress and look good whilst doing so. A tool could be a wrench, a gun, or a person, after all. But, and often he’d be hard pressed to admit it, he does care rather deeply for some, perhaps against what he thinks would be his better judgement. (And damn, if you think Ruhka wouldn’t wear that ridiculous red dress to a fight I don’t know what to tell you!)

Tagged by: @yshai-tia @way-to-the-future & @eligos-venator fuck y’all are quick Q_Q TY!

Tagging: @ffxiv-sunderedsouls @seenovistaprint @thegildedgun and anyone else, really! Use me as an excuse!

#q'ruhka #tagged #oh my GOD was this difficult #Runners up include:#Sokka and Asami from Avatar #Haruhi from Ouran Host Club #clint barton/hawkeye #Wade Wilson/Deadpool #Jim Hawkins from Treasure Planet

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darthstitch · 6 years

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Castlevania Netflix Season 2 Review: All My Bloody Tears

Yeah. Uh. SPOILERS. MASSIVE GINORMOUS SPOILERS. Consider yourself warned.

I'm kind of a complete mess as I write this because PAIN! PAIN AND SUFFERING! TEARS! BLOODY TEARS!

While it's not without its flaws, the second season of Netflix's Castlevania is incredible and lives up to the promise of Season 1. This, gentlebeings, is how you set up a sequel and leave the audience wanting more, but still walking away satisfied with what we've currently got.

The Good Stuff

The thing about Castlevania - as the game series by Konami - is that it's pretty much a patchwork quilt of everything goes. Think your favorite fan fiction peeve on AO3, the ones with the ten million tags before you even get to the goddamn story. So on one hand, it's got its clear inspiration from the classic Hammer and Universal Horror renditions of Dracula. But the game series is Japanese, so you have your beautiful anime-esque artwork by Ayami Kojima and the obvious anime influences.

I've played a few of the games, but I'm not going to claim gamer-god status. I just play for the fun of it and I don't hesitate to use walk throughs as a map of sorts, basically figuring out where to go, because the general castle layout is set up like a labyrinth and it is INSANE and FUN at the same time. So far, I've played and finished Symphony of the Night and two of the GBA ones: Harmony of Dissonance and Aria of Sorrow. I'm still trying to master the ones on the NDS. But basically, the premise is the same: You're the hero/heroine, you need to enter the big spooky castle, gather weapons and/or spells to make you stronger and add to your abilities, take down monsters and Major Bads - including Death Himself - and hopefully prevent Dracula from resurrecting and covering the world in Eternal Night. The main timeline basically has Belmonts, assorted Not-Belmonts who also hunt vampires and of course, pretty, pretty Alucard.

Then, there was your AU timeline in which Gabriel Belmont goes to defeat a Big Bad and becomes DRACULA ... and Trevor Belmont is his son, a.k.a. Alucard. Yeah, wrap your head around THAT one.

In short, Castlevania canon is fucked. To quote our Trevor, "Snake-fuckingly insane."

So Warren Ellis does the smart thing and basically picks up what works from the "canon" and crafts a damn good story out of it.

The Disaster Trio that is Alucard, Trevor and Sypha, end up bonding even closer together and spend much of this series in the Belmont Basement...er.... I mean, "Hold," trying to do the game equivalent of gathering spells and weapons to storm the castle with. We learn a few more interesting things about the Disaster Trio. Trevor actually ended up losing his family at a way too young age. Sypha and her people have some pretty "interesting" views about God. Alucard has artistic talents and basically acts his real age, which is a traumatized snarky 20 something year old, who's barely holding on to his composure with his shiny fangs and claws. There are epic moments such as "Treffy" and I would absolutely LOVE to hear the Belmont family story that explains how the hell a book of "penis spells" ended up in the Belmont Family Library.

Seriously. Fan fiction writers, don't fail me now!

Also, Lisa gets a few more minutes to shine and break our hearts at the same time. This is the woman who managed to charm and get one Seriously Scary King of Vampires wrapped around her tiniest finger. She's snarky and sassy as before, but so real, so kind and just basically trying to be a decent person in a Crapsack World. She loves her husband but she knows he can be monstrous. She loves her son but as Alucard himself puts it, she wants him to be able to be himself, be happy and not be overshadowed by his father. Seriously, as long as each season gives us something more about Lisa, I'm gonna be content.

We also get introduced to a few more new characters, who basically make up Dracula's Court of Evil. Hector and Isaac are humans but sociopathic enough to despise their own kind and willing to take part in their death and destruction. They both have their requisite tragic and abused pasts. Hector, however, has an element of naivete that makes him an easy target for the machinations of Carmilla, the only general in Dracula's court who's figured out which way the blood's flowing and wants to make sure she comes out on top. Isaac, however, is somewhat the mirror of Alucard himself. This is the guy who gives his unconditional love and loyalty to Dracula and refuses to abandon him no matter the personal cost to himself or his remnants of a conscience or whatever he has that passes for a moral compass. I figure that it's there, it's just not one that I would recognize. Isaac is a scary, scary mofo and it looks like he and Hector are gonna be back for season 3.

In fact, if Isaac ends up becoming "Death" in this entire series, I'm gonna be evilly delighted.

And then, there's Godbrand, who is basically the vampire equivalent of YOLO. Basically, all he wants is to fight, fuck, drink blood and make boats out of things he shouldn't make boats out of. Generally, he just wants to have a good time, rule the world like a king and make sure the humans know their place.

So okay, let's give Carmilla her due. Evil? Check. Manipulative? Check. Sadistic, vicious and cruel? 10 across the board. In the absence of a Certain Fanged Someone taking a more active role in what should be "The War on Humankind," Carmilla wants to make sure she's keeping things moving, spinning her webs of intrigue and plans upon plans, thinking she's going to come out the winner and make herself the new Queen of the Damned.

Here's the problem. Dracula figures that out, easily enough.

Here's the OTHER problem. His Fanged Nibs is all out of fucks to give. He's done. Finito. Finished with everything.

Yeah, about that.

While the humor of this series is a gift that keeps on giving, the drama and the feels will DESTROY you.

You know that moment when you realize Dracula isn't just waging a war on humanity, he's waging a war to destroy all vampires too? Because in that moment when he lost his beloved Lisa, he hated not only humans, but he also hated HIMSELF. He hates the fact that his life of evil, wanton death and destruction, wrought this price on the person that he loved. And she damn well didn't deserve that treatment. He hates the humans who killed her but he also hates his own kind, who are just as monstrous as he is.

So when Godbrand basically asks him, "If we're killing all the humans, what are we going to EAT?" Dracula basically tries to fob him off with some excuse or the other. Yeah, His Fanged Nibs is a LYING LIAR WHO LIES. Also, this lying liar who lies is actually spending most of his time sitting, brooding and being HUNGRY. Because he's not drinking blood. At all. Any blood drinking we see from His Fanged Nibs is in flashbacks.

Let that sink in for a second.

Aluard accuses his father of basically doing history's longest suicide. Yeah. It is - Dracula wants to take EVERYBODY down with him.

The fight scenes are worth the wait. I was screaming when the classic "Bloody Tears" started playing in Episode 7, an episode that I'm gonna watch like ten thousand times more, because OH GOD THE EPICNESS OF IT. The sheer badassery. The fact that Alucard is actually the secret identity of Moon Moon.

And then, the final fight between Dracula and our Disaster Trio is just as epic as expected. Even when he hasn't drunk blood, the trio is outmatched and outclassed and this is where you remember that if Dracula had only roused himself long enough to give a flying fuck about something, Carmilla's head would have been rolling on the floor a long time ago.

But then: "My boy.... I'm killing my boy. This is your room. Your mother and I painted these walls, made these toys. Lisa.... it's our boy. Your greatest gift to me. And I'm killing him. I must already be dead."

GDI WARREN ELLIS HOW VERY FUCKING DARE YOU.

The only way they take down Dracula is because he basically wants to die. So he lets his son kill him and end his misery. And when his rotting, decaying, corpse seems to be reaching out to his son for some kind of last embrace, Trevor, thinking that Alucard's going to be hurt, takes Dracula's head off. Sypha burns off the remains.

And it's done.

Castlevania is a game with numerous endings, all depending on how you played the game and whether you got this artifact or what not. The series pays homage to it because Trevor bequeaths the Belmont Hold to Alucard and asks him to be the last defender of it and his father's Castle. It's not going to be Alucard's grave, but his home now. Trevor and Sypha wander off into the sunset, for more adventures and mischief and Alucard lovingly sends off his BFFs with a fond "Fuck you."

We check in with the villains who survive and of course, we know there's gonna be sequels, because, hey, that's kind of the point of each and every Castlevania game. There's always gonna be a new Big Bad coming around. And trust me, Dracula's gonna be back. He's not just going to lie quiet in his grave.

And just when you think you can end this series with a satisfied sigh, our very last moments are spent with Alucard. Who is haunted by the ghosts of the parents he loved so much. Who gets to relive one happy memory with his mom, who loves him with all her heart. And she's so proud.

And Alucard finally breaks down into heartbreaking sobs.

We grieve with him.

The Bad Stuff

Yeah, okay, so I need to get this explained. Why bother to have all these interesting character designs for Dracula's other generals AND NOT HAVE THEM TALK? I'm serious. Not one of these fascinating-looking vampire bastards HAVE ANY GODDAMN LINES. Netflix, FFS, DON'T WUSS OUT ON YOUR CHARACTER ACTORS. YOU CAN'T BE THAT POOR. GIVE THEM VOICES. PAY YOUR CHARACTER VOICE ACTORS. OMG.

They basically just get killed off in the end, but while we know they were pretty scary and formidable, we don't really know anything about them other than: Vampire, Scary, Dracula's General. They were just pretty much Red Shirts, because the heroes never did get to confront Carmilla, Hector and Isaac directly.

There was evidently so much story to be told here, like they seem to have come from all over the world, even as far off as China AND THEY'RE. NOT. TALKING. The only ones with any dialogue are Carmilla, Hector, Isaac and Godbrand and none of these guys even get to share screentime with the Disaster Trio. Godbrand doesn't even make it to the final battle.

I mean, if these guys were just going to be cannon fodder, then let's just use any of the voiceless Major Bads from the games. Put some requisite scary music and sound effects and let the Disaster Trio take care of them. Let them speak in mysterious archaic languages or whatever, since we're not going to care about them anyway.

The Conclusion

Apparently, this is gonna be a pattern for this series. It's going to be good, it's going to be GREAT but there's always going to be that ONE THING that would drive us batshit crazy. But not enough to wreck my enjoyment of it.

The best parts of this series is the faithfulness to character, the layers upon layers of motivations and feels you're going to uncover as you rewatch it, the fact that it's not afraid to put tongue in cheek and leave canon at the door, while still being true to the source material.

So. "What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. But enough talk! Have at you!"

#castlevania #castlevania season 2 #dracula #alucard #trevor belmont #lisa fahrenheights tepes #sypha belnades #lisa and her boys #sypha and her sidekicks #oh god my heart #all the bloody tears

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writermich18 · 3 years

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I posted 100 times in 2021

30 posts created (30%)

70 posts reblogged (70%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.3 posts.

I added 160 tags in 2021

#writing prompt - 35 posts

#final fantasy xv - 26 posts

#legend of zelda - 19 posts

#loz - 17 posts

#reblog - 16 posts

#ffxv - 12 posts

#star wars - 11 posts

#somnus lucis caelum - 10 posts

#story - 7 posts

#ardyn lucis caelum - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#but you're thinking along the lines of 'somnus dies before he has kids' which leads to the perspective ypu showing

My Top Posts in 2021

Final Fantasy XV - Lucian Legend

“Do you know the legend of the Child in the Mist?”

“No, how does it go?”

“There is a legend told in whispers among my people, by both those who live in the countryside and those who live in the city, for this legend affects all. And parents are right to be afraid, and should always believe if they wish for their child to live.

For eons, upon eons, after the time of the Founder King, there has been a strange mist that appears in Lucis seemingly at random and always at night. Within the mist, the mist that is alive and follows this being, is a child whom looks like a kid version of the Founder King, wearing a red and white, worn cloak, so long it even occasionally covers the child’s lower face. In their right hand, a lantern with a blue-white flame burning inside. In their left hand, a sword as tall as their entire being, so much so that they treat it like a hiking staff but in combat they wield it like it’s a part of their limb, as if the weight and height means nothing. This is the Child in the Mist.

The Child in the Mist goes wherever they wish all across Lucis, but they can’t leave Lucian shores. In the night, they come. Drifting in the mist, through the mist, they enter your home. Singing a haunting song that nobody except for the children who look to be their physical age hears. When you hear the melody, you must follow, the Child doesn’t give you a choice. Where the Child takes you, nobody knows. But into the Mist, you follow them.

By dawn’s light, you are released from the Child’s hold. However, by then, it is too late. Nobody survives the Child’s call, nobody survives the Child’s games. You are dead, no matter where you end up. And always, a single white cloth is tied around the child’s eyes.

That is the legend of the Child in the Mist.”

“No survivors, truly?”

“No survivors. Except for one person. One child managed to survive the night with the Child.”

Everybody leans forward, eagerly, wanting to know who.

Regis’s eyes opens, then snaps up to stare at everyone listening from their position staring into the fire, as they simply answer,

“Me.”

6 notes • Posted 2021-10-05 04:11:36 GMT

Castlevania and Naruto Writing Prompt

Namikaze Minato reincarnates as Leon Belmont or Trevor Belmont.

Or Naruto reincarnates as Trevor.

9 notes • Posted 2021-08-31 17:37:28 GMT

My FFXV Runaway!Somnus AU be like...

During Somnus’ early years:

Random citizen, concerned: (after getting helped by the kid) Hey, what about your family? Ain’t they concerned and lookin’ for you, kid? I know there’s a lot of homeless kids out there, but you definitely don’t look like you’ve been homeless for long.

Six-year-old runaway Somnus Lucis Caelum, panicking and not wanting to go home to the big, scary dragon that keeps haunting him in his nightmares: What’s A Family?

Meanwhile,

26-year-old King Ardyn, pausing in his hunt search for Somnus: Why do I have the sudden urge to facepalm, as if Somnus said something dumb?

...

Years down the line...

A different random citizen, getting farm help from Somnus: Okay, I have to ask, kid, where’s your family? I know the rumors said about you is that you don’t have one or rather, never said anything ‘bout them but I still gotta ask.

16-year-old Somnus, accepting his life choices and just rolling with it, without missing a beat: What’s a family?

Meanwhile,

36-year-old King Ardyn, pausing in lecturing his kids while looking through parchmentwork for any sign of his still missing brother: Why am I suddenly gravely insulted, as if Somnus said something indicating I don’t exist?

14 notes • Posted 2021-07-20 00:51:34 GMT

A new multichapter fic I started, if anybody wants to check it out.

It’s basically a ‘What if Link was reincarnated as Cloud?’ fic. Similar to Chosen Hero in that regard but their adventures, obviously, are going to be completely different from one another.

15 notes • Posted 2021-06-08 18:14:52 GMT

Writing Prompt

You and your crew are space adventurers - explorers really. You and your friends have done this for as long as you can remember - actually, your whole family, all of you, have been explorers/space adventurers since the Space Frontier Era of the 21st Century.

Right now, you're dealing with the problem of fuel - the ship is running out of energy and it is no where near any Space Stations set up in the Milky Way long ago. Luckily, the planets you've been visited and exploring and reporting about in this sector are all filled to the brim with materials. Unluckily, said materials are ones that have just enough of different components to Terra's metals and energy that the engineers and blacksmiths have no idea how to safely melt, manipulate, or use the materials for the ship without potentially causing an explosion.

Another thing is that none of the logs from past and present explorers detail the same problem and the ones that do are from centuries ago when there weren't any Space Stations. And none of those have to do with your current energy problem.

58 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 15:32:37 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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