#this one's for followers and mutuals

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep? Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses- Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: Dark Romanticism, Inspired by Castlevania, personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Castlevania Season III, POV Original Character, Imprisonment, tension, Not your usual meet-cute, Paranoia, Not Canon Compliant, 'Alucard being unreasonable' is an understatement

III. My chains to rattle

When she stirred, her body felt sore and immeasurably weak, from the tips of her fingers to the toes of her feet. Her eyelids fluttered open to the shafts of light filtering through a window. Ravenna groaned, confused, her mind a whispering desert storm where recent events whirled at will, with no clarity or sequence. She wanted to rise, but something was not right. She looked up and saw that her arms were suspended above her head. In chains. Lovely.

Dread gripped her mind, and she struggled against her bonds. The woman promptly looked herself over and saw she wore the same traveling garb she had arrived in. Her cloak lay abandoned on a nearby table, but she still had her leggings, boots, and tunic. Her dagger was gone. Ravenna breathed a sigh of strangled relief, for she was yet alive and whole, but the meager consolation faded when she remembered who... what had brought her in this state to begin with. Looking about the place, she saw the makings of a chamber. It was as derelict as the others the woman had seen in the short time spent in this forgotten abode.

This is ridiculous.

There was a metal leash fastened around her neck, strung from another chain in the stone walls. Each movement caused a desolate rattling sound.

Not a dungeon, at least.

But still a prisoner.

There was no sign of her savior become captor, and her thoughts returned to inhuman eyes that severed her consciousness from her body with a single stare. And the teeth... no, not teeth, fangs. She had heard the grim tales of this land, come from far away as she was. She had heard of the one called Dracula, king of vampires. Was this...? Had she unknowingly stumbled into the lair of the greatest horror the world had ever known?

"Is anyone there?" she asked, her voice raspy with disuse. Only silence greeted her back.

She slumped against her chains with a sigh. The strain in her arms and shoulders hurt, and the more she struggled, the more intense the pain became.

Hours passed this way, leaving the woman alone with her worries until Ravenna saw the sun slowly make its descent as dusk fell over the world.

In the fading light, she cursed her luck - or lack thereof - which hurled her straight into the clutches of this sinister place and its apparently ruthless owner.

"Who are you?"

The words startled the woman so much she yelped and sprang forward with a metallic clank of her chains.

Flowing shadows filled the space, welcoming the manic lord of the castle who deigned to make his appearance known.

She was afraid, but she was also bitter, and it overran whatever threat was looming behind those cold eyes. "My arms hurt," the young woman muttered, looking away.

"I trust they do," the menace tilted his head to one side, regarding her as a hunting cat would a stray mouse.

She straightened against her chains with a grimace.

"I thought you might need to stand at some point, hence the length," he continued, turning to the sole window in the room.

"So very thoughtful," Ravenna growled, only to be met with a blazing gaze of red. It lasted only a moment before it faded from his countenance.

"Gall. Why am I not surprised," her captor drawled.

As he turned his head to the window again, the woman could not help but sense a seething sort of grief, hanging to him akin to a pressing monolith of immovable stone.

"For the last time, who are you?"

"I told you who I was... lord," she tried civility. "I am called Ravenna. I am not of this land."

He tapped a long finger against his lips, eyeing her. "What is your purpose here, then? In Wallachia?"

She hesitated. "May I at least know your name?" the woman tried.

He was in her face in an instant, clawed fingers grasping her chin none too gently. "You think this is a game?" he purred, a dangerous edge to his soft voice. His face split into a frightful smile that curdled her blood.

"I still believe... it is only courteous for me to at least know your name, following this... warm welcome," the woman choked, the freezing touch of his fingers causing a furious heartbeat to burst in her ears. Ravenna berated herself for the rebellious streak which, once again, might land her in more trouble than she bargained for.

He frowned, and she heard what may have been an incredulous snort. "I am the owner of this castle, and that is all you need to know."

"Are you... Dracula?" she decided to out with it.

The stranger released her and stepped back. A low grumble made its way up his throat, and with increased pique, Ravenna realized he was laughing.

"It is a fair assumption, you know ... we are in Wallachia, you own an immense castle that seems to swallow the light, and I saw the teeth..."

"Enough!" he cut her off. "Why are you here? Speak."

"After you grant me your name, lord," Ravenna braved, despite feeling the fool.

There it was, the low rumble that was his scornful laughter again, and a show of fangs that had her swallowing in dread.

He approached the woman again with slow, feline grace. "I could end you here and now, human," he murmured. Empty eyes locked on hers before trailing to the scrapes on her face, gained during her flight; his gaze took in her disheveled appearance, and finally settled on her neck.

Ravenna shifted, restless. "And yet, you do not," she retorted. Prodding was unwise. Prodding would always, always cause more trials than she could bear. Sage thoughts, and completely unrelated to what actually left her mouth. "The question is... why?"

Her captor raised an eyebrow, watching her as though she were insane. "What is your occupation?"

"I told you, I am a scholar."

"A scholar of what?" he demanded, his frown deepening.

Ravenna rolled her eyes despite herself. "I follow a school of thought that studies alchemy, philosophy, and medicine."

He turned away, hands clasped behind his back. "Interesting..." After a few moments, his shoulders shook in laughter again. What ever could be so amusing?

"Is this the restitution you require for your aid? Keeping me for a prisoner, held like an animal to rot away in your chains?" she blurted. He was so cold, and with him so was the air in the room. It came in shallow mists from her nose and mouth.

He seemed to ponder. "You said you cannot go back into the forest. And you will surely understand - I do not trust you. Hence you are bound until I know more. And with the way this is going, that may take a long, long time." He smiled, baring his fangs for her to see.

The prospect of being chained to a wall in the confines of a castle, at the mercy of a creature of the night no less, was not the most heartening. And she had a quest to continue. Still, Ravenna kept her peace and refused to beg. "Am I truly that much of a threat to someone like you?" she asked, raising her chin in defiance, but the plea was traceable in her voice.

She found it odd how he appeared to retreat, his expression become weary; he averted his gaze. "You all do more damage than you know," he mouthed after a while as to himself, watching the settling night beyond the window.

Ravenna sighed, her head bobbing downward. The metal leash chafed and gnawed at the sensitive skin of her neck. When she lifted her head, she gasped to find him before her. The heaviness of his scent did strange things to her senses, and her mind felt drenched in fog. His hand reached for her and she recoiled. The hand lingered for a split second before continuing its intent, reaching for her neck. Ravenna pressed her eyes tightly shut, her heart pounding. What would he do?

With the brush of cool fingers against her skin, the leash came unfastened and fell to the floor. She breathed again. Looking up, Ravenna stilled when met with the embers of his eyes. They were mere voids, swallowing all feeling and emotion, but there was no cruelty beneath those long black lashes; she was unable to look away.

He reached for her arms, and her astonishment increased when the cuffs around her wrists came undone as well. With absolute agony, the young woman let her limbs down, hissing with the strong discomfort. She looked back into his eyes. "... thank you," she muttered.

He made no reply but did back away. "That, stays," he pointed to the long chain and manacle around her ankle.

"So I am your prisoner," she concluded.

"I prefer the term guest," the vampire offered almost innocently with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

Ravenna regarded him with a wry expression. "... and this is how you treat your guests."

She shivered despite herself at the sudden sliver of ire flitting across his face.

"Oh pardon me, would you prefer a cozy fireplace and a cooked meal instead?" he taunted. "Perhaps a warm bed and a glass of wine, why not!"

"Cease these quips! What do you intend to do with me? You mentioned repayment for your aid... what is it you want?"

"So many questions..." He turned his back on her again, and the shadows in the chamber shifted anew. "The chain is long enough, I suggest you make use of it."

"Wait! Wait, where are you going?" This could not be it. "You cannot just leave me here!" Ravenna cried after him, but there was no one.

A solitary sconce now burned against one wall of the chamber. Weary and aching, the woman slowly approached the dusty bed, falling against the sheets with little to no grace. She was alive; that was what mattered. But maybe not for long.

Somehow, this was still marginally better than having perished at the hands of mindless zealots.

She had never seen, let alone encountered and shared words with a being such as this before. The entire concept of their existence and manner of living was foreign to Ravenna, and despite her situation, the academic drive leading her forward won in the end.

A vampire.

How fascinating.

NEXT

[chryseis]

FYI every purchase of any of The Adventure Zone music on Griffin McElroy's Bandcamp will be entirely donated to the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund for the rest of 2023. His music is set at 'name your price', and the McElroys are also going to match the donations.

If you've listened to even a bit of any TAZ campaign, you surely know what a fantastic musician Griffin is, and there is no better time to purchase his music than now.

[nova-rpv]

a redraw of the first drawing i posted here to celebrate the fact that ive been in tumblr for more than a whole year posting my shit and havent deleted my blog in panic yippee \:D/ (mushy rant in tags)

[jadequarze]

I miss them T^T I miss the blue girlies

[beetleandfox]

I love how unsanitized The Terror feels. Like there’s grime everywhere. You can tell those men smell bad. When they do surgery you can hear the bone being cut, when they get sick they look genuinely ill. The main character’s actor even has pockmarks, he LOOKS like he could be from the 1800s! And idk, I think it’s cool that we’re so aware of the characters’ carnal desires. They’re hungry, thirsty, freezing, etc, and it is so obvious that they have a body with needs!!

I think this also accounts for how horny the show feels, even though everyone is bundled up 90% of the time and there are no real romantic subplots. Besides the fact that it’s a very carnal show, it just has the intimacy and grime of true horniness. Is this thing on

[arrimorr]

My ocs, Sir and Ser, aka the eldritch malevolent policemen 😔

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[tariah23]

oooooo white people in my replies really saying ‘I can excuse racism but I draw the line at homophobia’

Not surprised since this is the site that only talks about racism and thinks it’s a big deal when they see it demonstrated in the cartoons and comics they like *coughs* dungeonmeshi *coughs* (for example at least. I haven’t seen THIS many white ppl talk as in depth about racism on here as much as these fandom nerds, man. I stg. Like “Ohhhh, so you all DO acknowledge that racism is real? Just not in real life even if you could feel it slapping you in the face at high speed. Gotcha.” It’s crazy.

Tumblr is like, 90% white and is extremely centered around them. That’s why you barely see stuff that’s important to black and brown people ever trending here or being talked about. It has to be something incredibly huge to the point where even white people can’t ignore it like they usually do, to talk about it here.

They only talked about George Floyd here because the topic of his death became world news. Even people in other countries were talking about it. Before him, it was probably Ferguson and Trayvon Martin… most of them are still trying their best to ignore the genocides because it’s a “touchy subject.” What do you expect from white people who live in their own bubbles of comfort and refuse to pop it with a needle??? They find comfort in their privilege and faux ignorance (they love playing stupid to avoid conversations about important things outside of fandoms like, are these mfs born with half a brain dedicated to fandom or what.) That’s literally all these mfs make a big deal out of, especially on this annoying ass platform. The ao3 mfs will go to war for the site that allows racist ff and cp like it’s no big deal. I wonder how many people here even donated to the site while actively scrolling past dono posts from folks who really do need help. They act like they’re doing a civil service by defending this site that makes over the amount of it’s intended dono goal in minutes.

Then you already know as soon as you even bring up racism in the stuff they like, they start ganging up and harassing black bloggers especially, calling them TERFs and the whole nine. Anything to make that person look bad for being concerned about the racism that they have such an intense aversion to. God, it’s absolutely exhausting knowing that these people would have no problem choosing a cartoon character over your entire existence if they COULD. Isn’t that fucking sad, man?

[tiredbread]

sweet sixteen

[forged-in-kaoss]

WAIT, MARIMO. YOU? LOOK FOR SOMEONE??? THEN WHO'S GONNA LOOK FOR YOU????? 😢

[ackee]

these tags on a post i made yesterday are so funny to me bc so many people will tell budding artists "just make fanart to build an audience and then sneak in oc art!" like idk how to tell you that shit do not work. it really and truly do not and here is the proof !

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep? Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses - Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: Dark Romanticism, Inspired by Castlevania, personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Castlevania Season III, Blood and Injury, POV Original Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Gore

II. Bring your taint

A long, darkened hall was before her; cold, musty air slithered over her flushed face, but the woman wasted not a beat as she disappeared within.

Blackness fell like a shroud and for a beat the fugitive regretted the decision to enter here; but this was no time to wallow. The place seemed deserted and the woman sprang forward, climbing up the poorly lit staircase, failing to notice the sparse, burning torches lining the stone walls.

This... palace of sorts had a foreboding aura, and she struggled with direction in the twilight of its walls. Her steps led ever forward, crossing more stairs and reaching another spacious hall. Immense pillars polished to the smoothness of black glass rose to the ceilings, which hosted masterful murals of various mythical creatures and ancient lore. Her wonder did not last as the beating of whips snapped into the silence, adding to the clamor and rustle of her pursuers. They had apparently renounced their own fears and entered the castle in their own time. The shift in the air made her shiver.

“Here, here, little whore, where ye hiding those fine young bones?” one of them called, the echo of his voice reaching from afar.

“Hold your mangy tongue, Adalbert,” another of the black-robed chasers chided. “Have you not heard what they say about this place? Do you want to be the main course of a vampire meal?”

Adalbert sneered. “Bah, humbug for shit-eating peasantry,” he grumbled, brandishing a dark hunting knife. “Dracula is dead, and whatever is left is nothing but the shadow of his accursed presence. His blight upon this land is ended. But our work is never done,” the man finished gravely as the group of seven climbed the wide stairs, carefully listening for any sound or stir in the dark. The blackness surrounding them closed in, thicker.

“Uh,” one man started, a waver in his voice, “did you all notice the lights? Does that not mean someone, or something, yet dwells here? I say... I say we all go back,“ he muttered fearfully just as the first man who spoke took a fistful of his garb.

“Keep your wits about you Kemeny, for heaven’s sake, we’re here to finish God’s work, not tinkle in our underclothes—“

His torrent ceased when the torches were quenched all at once, though no wind or draught could be felt by any of them.

“Denes,” the man stammered, “Denes, let’s leave this place, she’ll find her end either way, I wager,” the one called Kemeny insisted with their leader, losing his composure.

“Onward I say, or God save me I’ll submit to have you all excommunicated, living as pariahs on the outskirts of our township, prey to whatever night terrors’ll see fit to feast on your soft heads!” Denes ground out before the unsettled men, now following him with significantly less aplomb than before.

From her hidden place behind a cabinet in one side chamber, the young woman listened. She listened, only for their steps to grow louder, their voices hoarser the closer they appeared. Soon they would reach the corridor.

“We check each of these rooms,” she heard and froze, her heart a hammering mess behind her ribs. She looked to where she gripped a small blade, her only weapon. “Keep your bearings, Ravenna. If this is to be your end, prey to these bastards or whatever dwells here, so be it,” she whispered, and with fateful resignation, but also determined to do all she could to survive this, the woman straightened and rose from her hiding place.

An eerie stillness fell about the room; there was a ringing in her ears and a heaviness pressed on her temples; just as swiftly, she felt a presence.

“What is this taint you bring into my home?” A calm, unearthly voice.

It was close, too, and whatever the source of the words, the woman shuddered as the skin on the back of her neck pricked. Her pulse throbbed with menacing swiftness. Of course, threats and peril loomed from places unsought for. Her head swiveled to her left, but there was no one there. The woman stilled, and tendrils of fear reached through her despite her resolve. The foreign voice was soft, almost tender to the ears, were it not for the dispassionate and monotonous quality of the words.

“Who are you?” she dared ask, unable to bring herself to face the speaker.

“I ask the questions,” the warm, gliding voice purred; but there was scorn in it.

“Please, they are coming—“

The cold, sharp tip of a sword stung between her shoulder blades; she scampered forward, prey to a sense of dissent. “I am no threat to you, whoever... whatever you are!” she hissed in a desperate whisper. “I would reveal all... but as you can see, staying alive is now my chief concern!”

There was a pause. “How typical,” was all she heard from the man - because the tonality had been male, she was certain of it. There was also a strange scent in the air, akin to late summer roses after rain, heavy and suffocating. The shadows in the chamber seemed to shiver when he spoke, and the young human could not deny the primeval fright this presence awoke in her.

“Stay here,” came the terse command, though he not once raised his voice.

She was reeling; a sharp gust of air blew her unkempt hair astray, and she was alone again.

The one called Adalbert searched one chamber, the fading torchlight falling on the distinctive ruinous state of an abandoned dwelling.

“No sign of the wench. Maybe we leave and let this place swallow her in its burrows,” he hissed again, looking to his leader.

“Keep searching,” Denes ordered.

“Do you not find it odd that there is absolutely no sound in this fucking place?”

“Watch your slanderous words, Adalbert,” their leader rebutted. “We find her, we take ourselves out of here and that will be the end of it.”

Movement caught their eye.

“Draw your weapons,” Denes whispered.

The sight greeting them was that of an animal. A wolf, to be more precise, and a large one at that, staring down at them with its deep golden eyes.

“What the—“ one man frowned just as the beast fled from their sight into one of the side chambers.

“I tell ya, this place is riddled with fucking devil magic!“ another man grunted, taking steps back in retreat.

“Hold your stance, damn you!” Denes ground out before a gurgled sound stopped his tirade. Looking to his right, he saw the body of one of their companions sliding down against the wall, his neck a bloodied mess gushing down his robes.

They formed a protective circle, covering each other, anguished eyes darting around them. The silence became overbearing, pressing, intrusive.

“You come into my dwelling...” an icy voice caught their attention. “Uninvited... with your pettiness, your insults...”

“Who goes there?” Denes cried. “Show yourself, coward!”

But the speaker had no intention of heeding him, it seemed. “... and your fear of God.”

Another of their companions was struck down so fast the movement was lost in the blink of a human eye.

“... But your fear is misplaced. Your fear...” the soft words faded among the now screaming throats and thrashing limbs.

Denes turned and ran, only to be barred by a maelstrom of gold and black.

“... should be better spent here,“ were the last words Denes heard before golden eyes filled his line of sight, and a silver sheen was the last he saw on the lands of the living.

Some time after complete silence reigned outside the chamber once more, the woman approached the door, and slid through, into the corridor. The young human looked to her surroundings, and her frantic sight fell on the bodies of her pursuers. She yelped a stifled cry before recalling she was not alone.

The thought struck her then, that whatever had spoken to her and ended these men so swiftly and brutally, was the same being who had impaled bodies at the entrance of the castle. Dread and terror filled her to the brim and led her will, and then she was darting down the hall and over flights of stairs as if the world depended on it. The monster, the one who had so trapped her in her own body with the aid of nothing but his deceptively soft voice, that was an enemy more dangerous than ten scores of these men. She had to escape, to flee—...

A flash of red movement dashed before her. Again, that heavy, dark scent.

Her eyes widened.

Well.

This was certainly not what she had expected to see.

She stared into eyes of light amber. The rest of him was just as arresting, and she blinked, rather dazed. Light wavy hair framed a young, drawn face, spilling down his shoulders. He was tall and slim, and wore the simple cut and garb of nobility, his black overcoat hemmed with faded gold.

All was well and good, save for the blade he clutched that dripped crimson, and the droplets of blood over his face, neck and chest.

She took one step back; then another.

The figure only watched her. His gaze bore into her until the woman squirmed uncomfortably, wondering whether he would pounce to kill, or speak. In the end, humanity won. “I thank you... for... for your aid,” she tried.

No reaction; his gaze stayed empty. “I have no use for your gratitude.” He regarded the woman from head to toe, sheathing his sword. “But since you are here, having trespassed my domain with not even a by your leave, having ruined my peace and brought this mess to clean upon my floors... well, I believe that calls for some manner of restitution,” he finished with a smile she did not like at all.

“Please... lord,” the woman braved as the deceptively angelic figure drew closer. “I cannot go back into the woods, there may be more of them... My name is Ravenna, I am a scholar, nothing more—“ but his following action had her swallowing her words.

He knelt and lifted a torn arm from his killings, sighing thoughtfully. “Give them a finger, and they will take the entire hand...” he dropped the severed limb under the appalled gaze of the young woman.

Her distress seemed to please him, and despite her obvious disadvantage, it irked her. Show no fear... for all the good it’s done you. She smothered her fright, as after all, she was yet standing. “I have a proposal. Perhaps we could come to some sort of understanding. I was seeking for something in the area—,”

“Oh... oh, my dear,” he watched her not unlike a hawk would a wounded rabbit, “... but you are in no standing to negotiate.” He bared his teeth.

The last image the woman ever saw before her sight grew dim and her limbs melted beneath her, was that of sharp, even fangs and golden eyes freezing her beating heart.

For mere moments he watched the still body splayed upon the floor. “... not at all,” came the last spoken words she never heard before all fell into silence again.

NEXT

[roachemoji]

I said it in the early 2010s and I'll say it again. I don't understand aphobia at all especially from within the queer community like we've all faught to EXIST and date and fuck who we want, but some of yall can't accept there are people out there who don't wanna fuck at all? or don't feel sexually attraction? or don't wanna date? or don't feel romantic attraction? get your head out of your ass???

we're all here to date and fuck unless we're not. it's that easy

[assiraphales]

how it feels joining a fandom and having an absolute BLAST in the sandpit w ur new friends (fellow stans)

[hiemaldesirae]

Alastor manifests a conductor’s hat and dons it. “All aboard! Next stop: Royal Circle and the Morningstar Palace!” His face softens as Vox steps up. He offers his arm. “Shall we? If you ignore the warm, sponginess of the floor, Tim’s insides are quite comfortable.” Vox grins. “Sure. A train ride to an upcoming battle sounds weirdly romantic.” Alastor kisses the other Overlord’s knuckles. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” He whispers. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

- Radio Healed The Video Star, Finale I (by Aspiring_Forest_Witch / @slash-is-my-weakness86)

ive been reading and rereading this fic from exams week actually. i dont know what exactly was put into the story but im assuming it was some sort of crack because this might be hands down the best thing ive ever read. i wanted to draw one of my favourite scenes (the train ride on shortline tim.... if anyone questions my taste just know that we all watched the original hazbin so youve no room to judge) ((good luck on ur job search btw author !! hoping u find one sooner than later, thanks sm for making this fic))

[secretsimpleness]

Sometimes I want to bring Morrigan but then I remember I play as a face-tanking rogue and I bring Wynne. Warden Cousland, Morrigan, Wynne / Dragon Age Origins (c) Bioware