#because unlike what she had with her mother and renard

[piratefalls]

upon whatever number rewatch this is at this point (3? 4?) i just clocked that adalind actually looks uncomfortable when she’s flying to vienna at the end of season 3. like she’s telling herself, on repeat, “it was for my baby” while also not feeling good about the thing she did. she’s trying so hard to justify it to herself but she can’t even make herself fake a smile. she’s not proud. she’s a desperate mother who wants her child back and will do whatever it takes to accomplish it.

[multisfabulis]

Only Through Acceptance Will Love Find Us

Changes on the Horizon (Chapter 4)

Word Count: 4179

It's been over 7 months since I last updated this fic and it had to be a chapter that has given me the most trouble to write thus far!

I genuinely don't know why writing this had to be so much of a struggle. The rough draft was fine, for the most part! When it came time for the rewrite portion, I just couldn't be satisfied with anything I'd written for it, even after 3 or 4 rewrites. It got so bad that I ended up asking my beta reader/friend for help because I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong and I wanted their input on this to see if they had any suggestions. Then something akin to a miracle happened; I managed to find inspiration from an unlikely source (which I shan't divulge because it is NOT something I want to discuss on a public forum) and I was finally able to write to a degree I was both content with and found quality in. I still struggled with other parts later on but they weren't nearly to the severity the beginning was.

I don't know when the next chapter will be or whether I'll have just as much trouble with it as I did this but it'll be sometime next year! At least I can say I updated this fic more this year than I did last and that's good enough for me.

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     Several hours passed before Ven felt brave enough to open the front door. Her eyes scanned the area for any signs of Renard, hoping she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of blond hair or white clothing. He was sure to be angry with her, enraged even. People like him never took rejection well, especially after being humiliated in such a degrading fashion like he’d been. There was no telling what he might do to her upon seeing her again, which scared the utter shit out of her.

     It was only a kiss. A kiss, something she considered to be far better than whatever else he had planned for her. Yet knowing that did nothing to help calm the anxiety roiling in her stomach. The scene kept replaying over and over again in her head, forcing her to recall each and every disgusting detail. The way his body felt atop hers, how his eyes looked when they met her gaze, the warmth of his breath as their lips were about to touch, it…it made her sick.

     What was she supposed to have done? Should she have tried to fight him off or let him have his way with her? Was living in fear of retaliation better than living with the shame and guilt of allowing him to do that to her? Could she have done something differently to avoid either outcome? What was the right answer here? Was…was there even a right answer?

     She wanted to bash her head against the nearest wall. What was the point in asking herself all these questions? No amount of what-ifs, could haves, and should haves would change what happened. The only thing she could do now was learn from it. Ready herself so she wouldn’t be caught off-guard again. That meant keeping her dagger on her at all times just in case.

     Her mother wouldn’t be home for another few days yet so Ven was determined in holding the fort down until then. Once Mother made a safe return, they would pool their money together and leave Belleurseul at first light. She didn’t know where they would go but anywhere was better than staying here.

     For now, however, she had pets to feed. She walked out to the stable with tentative strides, peeking over her shoulder every so often to see if Renard was waiting for her when she looked back. Thankfully, she reached her destination with little to no issue and she was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

     The animals brayed and clucked at her arrival. She gave them all a smile as she filled one of the troughs with hay for the cows and sheep to munch on before turning around to scatter seed for the chickens. They dug in straight away, acting as if they’d never been fed a day in their life while Ven took the liberty of refilling their water. Then she sat on the stool Mother often used when she’d milk the cows and watched them eat. At least they were happy.

     It wasn’t long before her mind began to wander. What was she going to do about Renard? Dealing with him herself was out of the question since he could easily overpower her if she made any attempts to fight back. That left asking someone for help but who would want to help her in bringing the golden boy of Belleurseul down? That wasn’t even taking into account whether or not anyone would believe her in the first place. She’d be inviting hell to come to her doorstep if she came out about this. Was this what they called being stuck between a rock and a hard place?

     Maybe a walk was in order. A dusky stroll around the woods might do her some good, help clear her mind of things. So she quietly stepped out from the stable and made her way towards the forest that surrounded her house. It may have been stupid to go traipsing through the place so close to nighttime but she knew nothing dangerous lurked in there. She would be all right.

     The sky was streaked with shades of red, orange, and violet as the setting sun cast its golden rays across the land. She walked through the woods with leaves of similar color crunching beneath her feet and a chill beginning to seep into her bones. Some of the trees had already lost their dressings with the coming of winter, which meant the others were sure to follow not long after. She and Mother would need to start stockpiling food soon if they were to survive while on the road.

     Memories of the time she spent here flooded her mind. She remembered how she’d crawl into bushes or climb up trees to hide from imaginary monsters and how she’d dig into the mud after it rained to find and catch worms to bring home. Then there were the days where Mother played with her when she felt well enough to do so and hadn’t had work to do. Those Ven looked back on fondly. She was really going to miss this forest when she and Mother left.

     There was one spot in particular she’d hate to leave behind. Other people would regard it as nothing special but not her. To her, it was her safe space, her home away from home. It was a place she could go to for some peace and quiet when life became too much for her to handle sometimes. She wasn’t sure if there’d be anything like it again outside of Belleurseul. Knowing her luck, the universe would take it away from her just as she found it so she wasn’t feeling optimistic.

     Her heart stirred upon arriving at a familiar clearing. What greeted her first was the hill with its tall grass that stopped at her knees as she passed through. Then it was the climb up to the top of the hill. Awaiting her there was the rolling countryside bathed in light and the multicolored expanse looming above it. Seeing that in all its glory always brought about a sense of wanderlust, a desire to go and explore everything the view had to offer. This was why she loved coming to this place.

     She sat down amid the grass, basking in the fading sunlight. The wind ruffled her hair and clothes as she drew her knees up to her chest to keep herself from shivering in the cold. The sight was as beautiful as always to behold. Yet looking far off into the distance did little to quell her mind.

     What laid beyond Belleurseul’s walls? What was the world like outside the confines of her cage? It all seemed so grand and vast to her that she wondered if she’d ever see only a fraction of what there was. She longed for the call of adventure, yearned for it with every fiber of her being. However, there was one thing she wanted more than anything else, something she coveted with her very soul. When would they finally come into her life to rid her of her loneliness? When?

     Her gaze wandered over to a lone dandelion standing beside her. She thought it strange to find one blooming out of season here, especially with it being so close to winter and all. It was then she remembered an old superstition she heard about them way back when she was a child. If one were to blow the seeds off it, it would make their dreams and wishes come true. It never worked for her in the past but she had the urge to try it again, if only for nostalgia’s sake.

     Plucking it out from the ground, she held it up to her face. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to rely on an old fairy tale to help bring her happiness? God, it sounded so stupid, so childish, so embarrassing to trust in something like this but it was the only thing she had left at this point. So, with reddened cheeks, she closed her eyes and made her wish.

     ‘I wish to meet my prince.’

     Thus the seeds were scattered to the wind, carried off in the direction of wherever it blew to. She watched them vanish from sight, hoping someone out there in the great beyond heard her and granted her wish. Maybe, just maybe, this was the way to go about it. Only time would tell if it worked or not.

     Then there was what sounded like clattering behind her. She hastily rose to her feet, her hand going straight to where she had her dagger sheathed on her thigh. Her heart pounded in her ears at the thought of facing Renard again but she wasn’t planning on going down without a fight. She would scar the bastard right where it hurt the most so everyone knew of what he had done. She waited in anticipation for his arrival, her eyes trained on the opening she walked out of not too long ago.

     However, her would-be intruder wasn’t Renard. It was Dahlia, trotting out of the forest with Mother’s cart still attached to her. There was still cause for concern, though, when her rider appeared to not be in the driver’s seat controlling her. That sent alarm bells ringing throughout Ven’s head.

     “Dahlia?” She stepped forward to hold Dahlia’s face in her hands. “Dollie, what happened? Where’s Mother?”

     The horse only pushed her muzzle closer to her. It was times like these Ven really wished animals had the ability to talk. Quick glances over at the cart revealed mud caked on the wheels and marks resembling scratches along the sides of the wood. Were they attacked by a pack of wild animals on the road? Whatever the case may be, she needed to get to the bottom of it.

     Detaching the cart from Dahlia, Ven climbed up on her saddle and ordered, “All right, girl, take me to where Mother is! Quick!”

     With that, Dahlia galloped back in the direction she came from. Ven’s mind raced a thousand miles a minute as they hurried to wherever Mother was, wondering just what happened to her yesterday. It couldn’t have been anything good, judging by the marks left on the cart. Still, now wasn’t the time to be thinking of the worst-case scenario. She needed to remain calm and focused on finding Mother. She was going to bring her home safe and sound, despite her intrusive thoughts saying otherwise.

     Night descended upon them right when they reached yet another forest shrouded in darkness. Dahlia slowed to a walk as she sniffed along the ground in an attempt to find and track Mother’s scent. Wolves howled in the distance, scaring Ven more than she had been previously. So they were the ones responsible for attacking the cart, she thought with a grimace as her grip on the reins tightened ever so slightly. Suddenly, the horse let out a whinny and broke off into a trot.

     It was a short time later they stumbled across it. A large castle with a moonlit veil stood before her, everything except its shape obscured in shadow. She could just barely make out its arched windows set in the walls above and the chiseled stonework that gave this building its form. She would’ve doubted Mother being here if it weren’t for the odd lack of sentries keeping watch at the front gate. A noble wouldn’t leave their home unguarded for no reason, right? Was it possible then Mother took shelter here, believing it to be empty?

     Slowly but surely, they walked through the gate. Shivers ran up her spine at the idea of entering this creepy place alone but she wouldn’t be deterred. She came here with a goal in mind and nothing was going to stop her from returning home with Mother in one piece. Climbing off of Dahlia, she approached the set of heavy-looking doors that laid up ahead of her. When a couple knocks earned her no response, she decided ‘to hell with it’ and headed inside by herself.

     She stepped into what she presumed to be a foyer. The door slammed shut behind her with a loud thud and she nearly jumped out of her skin in fright. She waited for servants to accost her, question her on who she was and what she was doing here in the middle of the night. Yet no one came, leaving her to wonder if the castle truly was abandoned or if she had just caught a lucky break. Either way, it certainly made it easier for her to try finding her mother in this place. Steeling her nerves, she ascended up the grand staircase.

     “Mother?” she called out, her voice bouncing off the walls and high ceiling. “Mother, are you here?”

     No answer. Whether that was good or bad, wasting time around here wasn’t going to prove anything. She stopped upon reaching the landing and looked up at the darkened hallways on the second floor. She didn’t want to be here longer than was necessary so picking the right way to go was key. Deliberating on it for a few moments, she chose to search the east wing. Her footsteps echoed all throughout the room as she climbed the stairs and entered the left corridor.

     She was terrified. She wasn’t one to believe in ghosts and such but the creaking of wood underfoot, noises she could swear were whispers, and the feeling of eyes drilling into her were making her think otherwise. The suits of armor she’d occasionally pass by didn’t help matters, either. Still, she continued onward, determined to be brave in the face of potential danger.

     “Mother? Mother, are you here?” She turned round a corner and found herself in another dark hallway. “Mother, if you’re here, please answer me. I…I need you to say something.”

     “Oh, are you with miss Ravavyre?” a voice replied to her left.

     She stopped dead in her tracks. There weren’t any doors she recalled walking past so who did that voice belong to? She looked in the direction of where it came from, spotting a lone candelabra sitting atop a nearby table. Nothing seemed to suggest the presence of another person but she was sure she didn’t hallucinate that.

     Retracing her steps, she answered, “…Ye-yes but who are you? I ask that you show yourself.”

     “I’m over here, miss!” They sounded closer but she still couldn’t see them.

     She decided to approach the small end table. There wasn’t anything on it to indicate someone was talking to her through it, like a loudspeaker or a similar device, yet she was sure this was where she heard it from. Then it hit her. Was the candelabra itself speaking to her?

     “H-hello?” she quietly called. She waited for an answer, something to prove to her she wasn’t crazy. Nothing happened. “Of course, what was I thinking? Random inanimate objects don’t speak, Ven, what were you---”

     The candelabra sprung to life and excitedly replied, “Hello, miss!”

     She screamed as she jumped backward and fell to the floor. Okay, scratch what she was thinking earlier, she had to be going mad because there was no way in hell a candelabra just talked to her. It hopped down from the table and started making its way toward her with its wicks brightly lit. She needed to run, hightail it outta there, but she was frozen. Crap, crap, crap!

     “Calm down, miss, you’ve nothing to be afraid of!” it said, waving its arms in a motion that was meant to be nonthreatening. “It’s all right, I won’t---”

     Remembering her dagger, she whipped it out from its holster and pointed it in the candelabra’s direction, ordering, “Stay right there! Don’t come any closer!”

     “All right, all right!” It did as it was told, keeping its arms up. “Listen, miss, my name is Fria, okay? You’re looking for your mother, who happens to be miss Nithenoel Ravavyre, correct?”

     She eyed him suspiciously. He knew who her mother was and he didn’t seem to be harboring some hidden agenda or ulterior motive. After having her dagger trained on him for a few moments, she breathed out a sigh and dropped her hand. He had information she needed so she had to play ball with him. The second he tried anything, though, she wouldn’t hesitate to punt him across the room.

     “Yes, that’s her,” she answered, sheathing her dagger. “I apologize for my rudely behavior, I’m not used to talking candles and---”

     “It is quite all right, miss,” he assured her with a smile. He hopped up to her and took her hand between his to kiss it. At least he was a gentleman, if nothing else. “Would you like me to take you to her? I’m sure she’d be quite happy to see you.”

     Forgoing any pretense of subtlety, she said, “Yes, please, I…I was so worried when our horse came back home without her and I just wanna know if she’s okay.”

     “Aside from some minor injuries, she is all right, I promise.” Fria turned away to face the darkness up ahead. “Come, follow me. I’ll take you to where her room is.”

     “R-right!” She rose to her feet and fell in line behind him. “Thank you, Fria, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

     “It is all well and good. By the way, might I ask you for your name?”

     “It’s…Venlithea but I prefer to be called Ven.”

     “Ah, pretty name for a pretty girl.”

     The corners of her mouth curled up into a tight smile. He only said it to be nice, not because he actually meant it. Besides, even if he did, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to take it as a compliment after the day she’d had today. Renard thought she was and that turned out so well, didn’t it? So she decided to just brush it off as she followed after Fria down the long corridor.

     The glow from the candlelight made venturing through this a little easier, which she was grateful for. She could see windows that were as tall as the ceiling with their curtains drawn to her left and large portraits hanging on the wall to her right. The people shown in them were from a family she didn’t recognize and their name didn’t ring any bells in her memory. What were they like? They had to be interesting folks if they had someone like Fria as one of their servants.

     “So, tell me, miss Ven--” Fria started, breaking Ven out of her reverie-- “how did you find your way here? I’m curious to know if you happened upon us by accident or if you knew of us beforehand.”

     “Oh, no, I didn’t know anything about this place. When Dahlia, the horse I mentioned earlier, came home without Mother, I simply asked her to take me to where she was and I guess she tracked her scent and led me here. This is actually my first time ever leaving home so this is all new to me.”

     “Ah, I see. I must say, you’re very brave for going through that dark forest all by yourself. At your age, no less!”

     She resisted the urge to trickle some bite into her words as she corrected him with, “You appear to be mistaken, Fria. I only just turned 18 a few months ago so I’m not as young as you believe me to be.”

     “Ah, I apologize, miss. Regardless, I commend you for your effort. It must not have been easy for you.”

     They fell silent shortly before arriving at their destination. The anticipation was killing her as Fria knocked on the door several times to see if the person they were here for was behind them. A voice that sounded similar to Mother’s answered and he announced he had a visitor with him. It was at this point Ven couldn’t wait any longer. She took hold of the handle and swung it open.

     The first thing she saw was her mother, who was in the process of getting out of a king-sized bed. Then her eyes laid on the bandages wrapped around her arms and the parts of her legs that were left bare. Her clothes were different from the ones she was wearing yesterday and her hair was tied back into a singular ponytail as opposed to the usual four braids. Finally, there was the simple cane she grabbed on to help her stand as her eyes widened in surprise at Ven.

     “Thea, when did you---”

     “Mother!” She all but tackled her into a tight hug, burying her face in her chest. “God, I was so worried about you! When Dahlia came back home alone, I thought you had---”

��    “It’s all right, sweetheart, I’m okay.” She felt Mother return the hug with just as much strength as a hand stroked her back. “It’ll take a lot more than that to knock out this old woman.”

     Tears sprung to Ven’s eyes as Mother let out a hearty laugh. Having her in her arms again like this after worrying over whether she was dead or not caused the dam she’d been building since Renard’s assault earlier to burst. Sobs wracked through her body as she cried like a child in her embrace, much to her mother’s bemusement. She needed this, especially with everything that happened today.

     Pulling away to dry her tears, Mother asked, “Did you really miss me that much, Thea? I said I’d be back!”

     “...Yeah, I did,” Ven replied, hoping she didn’t hear the hesitation in her voice.

     “Well--” she wiped away another tear as she chuckled-- “I know I shouldn’t say this but it does warm my heart to see how much you love me.”

     Ven choked back a laugh. She hated lying to her mother but she couldn’t bear having her know the truth. She’d feel so guilty for leaving her there alone to be taken advantage of and that was the last thing Ven wanted. They just had to pool their money together, then they’d be gone from Belleurseul sooner rather than later. They wouldn’t have to put up with Renard ever again.

     Their happy reunion was briefly interrupted by Fria telling them Ven was free to stay the night and dinner would be served shortly. There was just the matter of letting the Master know about the new guest but Fria was able to ease their fears with assurances of him being fine with it. The Master, known as Ferreth, seemed like a decent enough person if he allowed her mother to stay here free of charge. Ven wanted to thank him for taking care of her before the day was over.

     Still, today was…a lot. The pain of losing her dear friend still lingered but having her mother there to comfort her made it easier to handle. They were planning to return home tomorrow so as to not be a burden on the people living here. They were the kind to not overstay their welcome. As much as she dreaded the possibility of facing Renard again, she’d be brave and prove she wasn’t scared of him. She would just need to act the hell out of it.

     Tonight, she would rest. Reality could wait.

[maskedmuses]

If they had a child || Still accepting!

@modelbehxvior​​ asked: If they had a child - Adrien and Marinette for the hybrid supernatural AU and Royal AU because let's be honest, we know canon wise what would happen but what about AU wise? xD Ah what the heck, feel free to toss in the criminal AU if you want to or just do one of the three. I'm just curious since Marinette wouldn't have thought about this the same in the AUs as she did in the show. 

I am too eager for all these options!!  Since there’s three, they’re just under read more for length

First up, Supernatural AU

Name: Serephina Emile Agreste

Gender: Female

General Appearance: Midback length blonde hair that she keeps up in high ponytails, blue eyes, and very feminine structure. Slender like her mother, she only grows to be an inch or so taller than her. When in here “werecat” form, she only sprouts the feline ears, and her human ones are replaced.

Personality: Sneaky, she loves to startle people and finds herself adoring practical jokes. She can be sweet too, but is absolutely a prankster.

Special Talents: Hair styling, shifting, hiding in plain sight

Who they like better: Adrien

Who they take after more: Plagg Adrien

Personal Headcanon: Unlike her father, she cannot fully shift nor is immortal. She can only sprout the ears at will, but prefers not to because it messes with her hair too much and the noise she can pick up with them can be overwhelming.

Face Claim:

Royal

Name:  Aldric Emil Agreste

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Dark brown hair and mismatched eyes, he takes a lot of his build from his maternal grandfather, growing more broad and taller than his father.

Personality: Manners mean everything to Aldric, whether he receives them back or not. In many aspects he would be considered a ‘perfect prince archetype,’ as he is very valiant and polite, but he also likes to be somewhat sequestered away. Believes in hard work.

Special Talents: Piano, memorization, dancing

Who they like better: Marinette

Who they take after more: Adrien

Personal Headcanon: Aside from royal balls, which he loves, he typically likes to keep in the library if he can. However, he does occasionally like to go out and help tend to the garden or do menial tasks like normal people.

Face Claim:

Criminal

Name:  Renard Hugo Agreste

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Dark hair and hazel eyes, he is more slender but toned, much like his father. He does have more of the facial structure of his Asian heritage, and has the height akin to his father.

Personality: Cunning, he can be very secretive and trusts only his family when it comes to important matters. Incredibly charismatic and pragmatic, he is a natural born leader when it comes to anything he takes on.

Special Talents: Baking, drawing, building structures from scraps

Who they like better: Adrien

Who they take after more: Marinette

Personal Headcanon: Wherever he goes, Renard finds random ‘useless’ things that he collects (pebbles, scraps of metal, etc) and brings them home and constructs things from them in his spare time as a hobby.

Face Claim:

[cerastes]

With all these Belmonts, is there a concise family tree?

Concise, yeah, though not all the details are filled, and some stuff has been left open-ended or simply not enough information was given. The traditional timeline’s canon Belmonts, and their tree, is as follows:

The short answer is Leon -> Trevor -> Christopher -> Soleiyu -> Simon -> Juste -> Richter -> Julius.

The long answer is

Leon Belmont (Lament of Innocence): The earliest known Belmont who went into a vampire fortress alone and unarmed to beat the absolute crap out of whoever it is that kidnapped his wife in the year 1094. A baron who was widely believed to be the strongest knight in Europe, he started the Belmont Clan’s tradition of killing vampires and respecting women. Quotes of his include “I’ll kill you and the night!” and “Mark my words, from today on, I and all my descendants will not give you peace! The Belmont Clan will hunt the night!” which proves that people named ‘Leon’ in PS2 era games are just treasure troves of quotes, and not small time. Actually didn’t fight Dracula! He did best Death, though. He was engaged with Sara Tantroul, but during the Mess that happened during Leon’s adventure, as she was dying, she infused her soul with the Whip of Alchemy, turning it into the Vampire Killer. This means that every Belmont is practically swinging their great great great grandmother at Vampires to beat the utter piss out of them and she couldn’t be happier. Leon later married an unknown woman, which I hope wasn’t too awkward for his now Whip Wife.

Trevor Belmont (Castlevania III and Curse of Darkness): Almost 400 years pass, and in 1476, Trevor becomes the first Belmont to defeat Dracula, alongside future wife Sypha Belnades (a powerful spellcaster from the magic-focused Belnades Clan) and close friends Alucard (that Alucard, Dracula’s son) and Grant Danasty (a noble thief from Wallachia), and then assists a Devil Forgemaster that defected from Dracula’s service named Hector (a very strong and good boy) kill Dracula after Bad Vlad resurrected prematurely. Although an incredible warrior proud of his skills, he is also cautious, and kind of a rude jackass but he has a heart of gold. Has a REALLY good boss theme for when you have to fight him. He also starts in the Castlevania Pachislot game, which has a soundtrack too good for a fucking pachislot game, what the hell.

Christopher Belmont (The Adventure and Belmont’s Revenge): Around a hundred years later, in 1591, Dracula resurrected tougher than ever. Luckily, Christopher Belmont, great-grandson of Trevor, was lifting pretty much every day, so he went and clowned on Dracula. He was very happy about this, and he also very happy that 15 years after this fight, Soleiyu Belmont, his son, was coming of age as a Vampire Hunter. He was going to give him the Vampire Slayer, as per tradition, to make him the main Belmont, BUT THEN, Dracula, the tricky willy, HADN’T ACTUALLY DIED from the fight with Christopher, and had just been left very very weak, but due to this, he couldn’t do anything, so he possessed Soleiyu to recover his power, which Christopher DIDN’T LIKE, so he went at him again. After defeating his son Soleiyu in a duel and freeing him from Bad Vlad’s influence, he went and beat Dracula SO HARD that he did die this time, and for a while at it.

SIMON FUCKING BELMONT (Castlevania, Simon’s Quest, Super Castlevania IV, Harmony of Dissonance, and Chronicles): THE LEGEND HIMSELF. Simon Belmont, the hero of the very first game, and thus, the “first” Belmont in that way. Simon grew up hearing stories and legends of his lineage’s finest feats: His ancestor Trevor, his great-grandfather Christopher, even his grandfather Soleiyu, and always felt anxious of whether or not he was worthy of the name Belmont, worthy enough to be in such a kickass family, always wondered if he would be able to stand up to the expectation. A chance to find the answer to that question would come in 1691, when Dracula revived AGAIN, and Simon, age 22, who had spent his whole life training and becoming a monster truck gijinka, went and absolutely fucking eradicated Dracula, just gave him those kind of punches that send you to another side of the map, blew him across his own throne room as if he was on 200% damage in Smash Bros, just pulverized him. Dracula, however, managed to inflict a wound on his back, and he cursed it with his dying breath. The wound never healed, and Simon just kinda accepted that.  7 years pass and Simon’s all bummed out ‘cause he’s gonna die from this one little fuckin’ nick on his back, when a Mysterious Woman tells him “hey, find Dracula’s body parts and burn them to heal your curse” and he was like “sounds good to me”, so he did, assembled the parts, and ended up reviving Dracula, who immediately looked at Simon and went “Oh bother” before Simon unleashed the mother of all beat downs on him, tore him apart AGAIN, and now burned dismantled Bela Lugosi-looking mother fucker for good measure. This undid the curse, because exorcisms and blessings are weak and inferior to some good ol’ ultraviolence. The Belmont Clan was kinda ostracized before this because people were afraid of their superhuman power, but Simon’s feat of kicking Dracula’s ass, and then reviving him so he could kick his ass even harder was so awe inspiring that the people were like “that’s pretty cool dude!” and now they loved the Belmonts, and Simon became a legend, and a village formed around the Belmont Clan household out of respect for them.

Juste Belmont (Harmony of Dissonance): ...And in this village is where Simon’s grandson, Juste, grew up! Even among Belmonts, Juste was particularly powerful due to his immense aptitude for magic in addition to his factory setting Belmont Strength, owing to the Belnades blood in his lineage. In 1748, his best friend, Maxim Kischine, wanted to prove he was stronger than Juste, so he emulated Simon’s feat from 50 years ago and collected all of Dracula’s body parts (which should have burned but Dracula is tenacious HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO TEACH YOU THIS LESSON, OLD MAN), EXCEPT despite being a formidable lad, Maxim was nowhere near Simon levels of strong, physically or spiritually, so he got possessed by Dracula’s influence, lol. Not Dracula himself, though, he was still VERY dead after Simon got done with him, but his influence lingered in his body parts. Juste is also a very successful IKEA employee and loves interior design, skills he puts at good use in a room in Castlevania for some reason unknown to everyone but him. Despite his kitsch tastes, Juste, as said before, is VERY STRONG, and so he beat the influence right out of Maxim and then killed it AGAIN outside of Juste, all while traversing a physical Castlevania and a spiritual Castlevania brought to quasi-existence by Maxim’s psyche, all the while rescuing their mutual friend Lydie Erlanger. Fun Fact! What Juste kills is Dracula’s influence, not Dracula himself. The final boss, Dracula Wraith, is just the manifestation of his influence after draining power from Maxim (as formidable as the real Dracula, but not actually Dracula), making him and Leon the only two people in this list that didn’t actually kill Dracula. He then likely marries Lydie and they have a no doubt very beautiful home hand-decorated by Juste himself.

Richter Belmont (Rondo of Blood, Symphony of the Night, Nocturne of Recollection, Portrait of Ruin): Richter is either Juste’s son or grandson, we don’t know, but what we do know for sure is that he’s made of something harder than the strongest metal known to man. He is VERY strong, and said to be The Strongest Belmont, period (at least until Julius). Dracula revived again SIGH and ordered a bunch of women to be kidnapped to be sacrificed to him, which included Annette, Richter’s girlfriend. Richter kinda doesn’t like this, so much like Leon, he goes absolutely ballistic on 1792 and embarks on his quest to kick vampire ass. Unlike Leon, however, he does bring weaponry. On his path of asskicking, Richter rescues fellow Vampire Hunter and distant relative of the Belmont Clan, Maria Renard, and if you’ve been following this post, you’ll know that just one Vampire Hunter is VERY strong, WELL IMAGINE TWO OF THEM NOW. Holy SHIT, they just fucking suplexed the entire castle like Sabin on steroids, satellite lasers have less firepower than this duo. So Dracula obviously loses like the jobber he is, and everything’s ok. Unfortunately, Dracula has a hyper competent sidekick. No, not Death, that guy jobs, too, I mean a Dark Priest named Shaft, who, unlike what his idiot name might suggest, is actually really good at his job. He’s the one that revive Dracula this time, and boy howdy he was going to try again, EXCEPT this time he brainwashed Richter into helping them, and that’s when Alucard, ally of Trevor, bursts out of his sarcophagus and decides to lend a hand in this whole Dracula ass kicking, but that’s another story for another day.

Julius Belmont (Aria of Sorrow/Dawn of Sorrow): The last known Belmont and the strongest. Julius fucks. In 1999, he obliterated Dracula, we don’t know how, we never were told how it went down, but all that is known is that he absolutely did that. He then lends a helpful hand to Aria/Dawn’s protagonist, Soma Cruz, but that’s also another story for another time.

[infernorp]

name: gregory renard

age: twenty nine

gender and pronouns: agender, he/they

loyalty: destler

occupation: emcee and treasurer for le théâtre de nuit

criminal occupation: soldier for the destler crime organization

faceclaim: cory michael smith

You never knew your father. Maybe you inherited your personality and outlook from him; heaven knows it doesn't come from your mother. No, Sebastian must have gotten his muscles from your father, since you're lean and sinewy like your mother. It's the only thing you got from her. Everything else? Your mother, as much as you've always loved her, has never been the most rational, intelligent, or level-headed person. People who often think clearly don't tend to move from Russia to France and then back onto whims. You'll always resent her at least a little for that, you think. You know you were already a grown adult, living on your own, when she left, but to see what it did to your siblings stirred what little positive emotion you garned for them and turned it into a growing spitefulness directed at your mother. Not that you'd ever admit either part of that to Sebastian or Fleur, but it's there, wrapped around your heart like a hand in a thick black glove, squeezing ever tighter. Maybe one day it will envelope you entirely. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

Before the mess that left you stranded in Paris was even a glimmer of an idea in your mother's mind, you had another, larger, better reason to hate her. The man you think you must be more like than you are like her. She never mentioned him, never kept any photos. You never even knew his name or how they met. The only trace of his existence was a hard glint in your mother's eye when she looked at you, when your lips parted with a gentle smack of saliva, a witty remark on the tip of your tongue, one she could never have thought of herself; it was in those moments you knew not only that you must have a father, but that you must be an exact copy of him and that she must hate him with a resentment you would never have thought her capable of, one that sunk down into her very bones. Perhaps that was why she always treated your siblings much more fondly, more warmly, and why you resolved to be more cold on the whole. Your childhood was a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, leaving you indifferent not only to yourself but to everyone you passed on the street. Every one of those mean glances in your direction only added another brick to the wall you built around your soul, choking the kind light out of it one moment at a time. Your spirit was a black, lifeless thing by the time you were seventeen, suffocated by the weight of your mother's disdain. It's sad; because of how much she must have hated you, you decided so did everyone else, and so every friendly glance was read as a glare, every gently inquisitive remark came from the lips of nosy people who should learn to mind their own business. By now the wall you've built yourself has started building a wall of its own, and you don't know who you are anymore, only that your father made you this way and your mother didn't do anything to stop it.

associates: antonin petrovic, cherry langley, gigi destler, kristos vallas, lea jammes, lisette sorelli, lucien rousseau, meg giry, rahim ahmadi, and xavier carmen

higher-ups: gille andre, michel lefevre, and richard firmin

tolerated: baylen moreau, hadley perrin, mathieu reyer, and zhu lau

CHRISTINE DAAE, RAOUL CHANEY, AND MADALENE GIRY

There's something about them, you just can't bring yourself to trust them. Never let it be said you'd put yourself, your own career or wellbeing, on the line to protect someone else, but you're also undeniably suspicious of the motives of these three individuals, both separately and perhaps even as a group. You've never told anyone simply because you don't want to be scoffed at and told to drop the matter, but you'd like nothing more than to prove irrefutably to Erik that these three are up to something, that they're not to be trusted. Sure, you don't like very many people at all, but you're finding yourself on the border of putting yourself in harm's way to give yourself a reason to distrust, even hate, them. It's a slippery slope and you know it, but you've never been wrong about anything before and you don't intend to start now.

ERIK DESTLER

Your boss, for all intents and purposes. He hired you anyway, picked yourself and your siblings right off the streets, took you into the dusty old theatre and asked what you could do. Said he could tell when people were special and you three fit the bill. Fleur and Sebastian, sure, of course. You, though? Special? Not so much. Just a gangly out-of-work accountant with a wheedling voice and half a Masters degree in geology. Probably the most boring combination of interests and traits to ever be thrown together into a person, if that person were then put on stilts. Doctor Gangle, Erik called you once, a tongue in cheek nickname not unlike the ones awarded to Fleur and Sebastian, and it half stuck. You're still not sure if you like it, much less how you feel about the man who awarded it to you, but it certainly does fit.

FLEUR RENARD AND SEBASTIAN RENARD

You've always been so unlike your siblings. Not strong or brave like Sebastian, and certainly not bubbly and outgoing like Fleur. They're both performers at heart, all muscle wrapped in a layer of stardust and something you could almost call empathy in the right light. You lack all of that, it seems. Your brain doesn't work in the same way. Your emotions are as absent as any musical interest or ability, concern for others, for yourself even, lost in a tangle of long limbs and neurons firing too quickly. Some days you think it's a gift, others you'd give anything to have more in common with your siblings. For now, though, you're just suffering through a terrible case of middle child syndrome, the odd duck sitting on the sidelines up to his ears in receipts and bills and money which isn't yours. The spotlight isn't something you've ever longed for, but it does seem awfully warm.

THIS CHARACTER HAS A NON-FLEXIBLE FACECLAIM AND IS OPEN