#cw paranoia mention

[antiendovents]

gonna post my own little vent now, because god am I frustrated right now, so uh warning for that I guess???

I'm so pissed off about what endos have done to this community. I wish they didn't exist. Honestly. Fuck endos. Fuck their made up shit. I am already paranoid enough as it is about social interactions (and many other things) and endos have not helped one bit. I can't even like a single post related to systems, mogai, disability, ect without checking to make sure the person I'm interacting with isn't an endo / pro endo. Not just on this site either, but on other apps and websites. And it sucks because either a) they're pro endo / an endo and I have to deal with that , b ) they have no listed opinion / are neutral or if I'm lucky c ) they're anti endo. If there's no listed opinion (not even saying they're neutral, just nothing on it) I get oddly anxious. Like I know not everyone is required to give their opinions or beliefs but it makes me so paranoid that they might be a pro endo in disguise and I'll have to deal with that eventually.

I hate what endos have done to this community. I hate what they have done to me

#- james #anti endo #did #did system #endos dni #plural #actually did #alters #system #endos fuck off #did osdd #My own vent #Tw paranoia mention #CW paranoia mention

[lackablazeical]

Survival guide for anyone meeting the turt?

Leo: pray to the lord you don't catch his interest in some way (really no way to tell if you will or not). If you do, you're doomed. If you're mentally strong maybe you'll get to the other side, but likely you'll end up in a psych ward for acute paranoia/ptsd and at worst you'll end up dead.

Mikey: match/beat out its crazy. Show no fear/weakness, he can sense it. He's like a puppy, don't let it bite you or he'll know he's allowed to, only he'll also rip your hand off

Donnie: pray. Give him your attention, listen and add to any conversation just enough to show you understand the topic. Pray ur just normal enough to not catch his eye but also just weird enough that he doesn't find you expendable

Raph: be able to talk about his interests with him. Don't talk too much, don't touch out of nowhere, don't ask too many questions (they annoy him). Never touch cuddles, even w/ ur eyes. Stay out of easy swipe/punch range.

#addams! tmnt au #rottmnt au #cw paranoia mention

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites

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

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All you had wanted was a break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had nothing but fond memories of the place.

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

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

So here you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A scoff left your mouth at the thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was just what you needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dracula’s Castle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed.

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

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

It was quiet.

No monsters. No bodies. No Dracula.

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

But the attack had yet to come.

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

Another thought suddenly hit you like a freight train.

Just how long had Dracula’s castle been here?

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

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

You felt like you were going to hurl.

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

You had to investigate.

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

You came to a decision.

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

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

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

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

Should you call for backup?

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

“No service. Figures.”

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

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

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

Just like you had for who knows how long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just an old, rusted looking gate.

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

Yet, it was quiet.

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

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

You were a bit dumbstruck.

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

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

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

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

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

It was fitting, you supposed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was cold. Unnaturally cold.

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

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

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

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

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

Not a monster in sight.

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

It was as if nothing was here in the castle.

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

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

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

What castle could feel this way, besides Castlevania?

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

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

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

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

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

And if you found something? Well…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It certainly added to the creepy atmosphere.

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

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

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

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

It was Dracula.

Or at least… You thought it was Dracula.

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

The head was… a lot of things.

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

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

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

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

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

It was Dracula, no doubt about it, but…

Why was he a statue?

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

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

Pure stone.

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

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

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

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

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

It made sense, the more you thought about it.

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

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

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

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

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

It still made you nervous and uncomfortable though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But would that be wise?

…Did you even have much of a choice?

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

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

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

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

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

And it felt like he was looking right at you.

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

Suddenly, the very thought made your stomach sour.

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

You were not equipped to handle this.

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

But whatever was happening here? No. No way.

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

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

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

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

You didn’t wait to catch your breath.

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

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

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

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

And you were going to have to destroy it somehow.

“Lucky me…” You mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decided to take it as a blessing.

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

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

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

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

No pressure.

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

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

Starting with some protective measures.

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

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

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

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

“What now?” you asked yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted. No thanks.

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

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

You could think more on this tomorrow.

#castlevania #dracula vlad tepes #dracula #dracula x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #reader insert #Belmont!reader #eventual relationship #cw death mention #cw anxiety #cw paranoia #cw toxic family #long post #zed.writes #to be continued

[boiling-files]

Love how Hunter keeps insisting he sees Belos and not once does Luz or anyone else brush him off or dismiss his rightful paranoia about his abuser and guardian figure.

A pet peeve of mine is the “Boy Who Cried Wolf” trope where Character A goes “wait it really was there!” only for Character B to be either disappointed and or mad at Character A for wasting their time and go “it’s all in your head/you’re imagining it!”

But Luz doesn’t do that, there’s no casual gaslighting or ableism, Luz doesn’t once doubt that Hunter knows what he saw. She asks if he’s okay, if he needs a break. She notices how Hunter has been trying to reach out to her and she’s just trying to the same.

Luz listens to Hunter and how scared he is. She asks if Hunter needs to wait for the others before they investigate the cabin, Luz communicates this important boundary to Hunter and he says “no!” He wants to get it over with as soon as possible just rip the proverbial bandaid off.

Luz still listens to Hunter and how he lacks confidence in the situation and she devises a brief coping mechanism to help Hunter feel confident. They storm into the cabin wearing Halloween masks and wielding farm tools and it isn’t scary, they’re kids.

They’re just trying to be kids.

Even after they don’t find Belos hiding out in the cabin and it’s just a Possum Luz doesn’t dismiss Hunter’s concerns.

Hunter: No one’s here, it was all just in my head.

Luz: Well, can’t blame you for being paranoid after everything we’ve been through.

Hunter: Yeah. You know, I just wanna make sure everyone is safe.

Luz: Same. And that includes you Hunter.

Hunter: What?

Luz: Yeah, gonna make sure you’re safe too Hunter, you’re family now.

Notice how Hunter doesn’t think he’s included in the “everyone” part of his statement but Luz includes him in her language. “Everything we’ve been through” not “everything you’ve been through.”

Hunter thinks so lowly of himself at this moment he doesn’t believe he’s deserving of a family at all the moment Hunter realizes and goes “oh” I’m considered family… I have a place here with these people the weight must be unbearable because he just cries and it isn’t angry or anxious it’s just crying.

Hunter is crying without having a mental breakdown or having an anxiety attack or being on the verge of dying for the first time in his life. He doesn’t say “don’t look at me” or deny he’s crying. He says “this mask is gross now” and they laugh. they share this moment of emotional vulnerability stronger now.

Hunter says: “Let’s go back, everything is fine. Belos is gone.” (gone, not dead.) with a finality that says he’s accepted himself and who he is without Belos and The Emperor’s Coven. He’s fine with who is now.

#my analysis #analysis #the owl house #toh spoilers #luz noceda #thanks to them #hunter noceda #meta #cw: child abuse #cw: gaslighting mention #cw: paranoia mention #it has not been seen #best hits

[razorspidey]

happens way too much to me

read my intro b4 interacting ⋆ block don't report

#razorspidey #disordered eating cw #disordered eating mention #eating disoder trigger warning #tw ed but not sheeran #tw €d #€d #skin&bones #skin&🩻fightback #skinandbones #ed nonsense #ed mention #ed meme #edmeme #dereality #derealization #derealism #depersonalisation and derealisation #derealisation tw #paranoia #actually paranoid #help #€d blog #€dblr #dissociation #dreaming #weird ass #skin&🩻 #skinand🩻 #💡as a 🪶

[necros-writing-stuff]

It's been a really long time since I've been here, life has just been too busy and tiring. I haven't even been able to draw I'm so sorry. Can I ask for two?

PC with a flu or high fever with Eden and Trauma induced Eden insisting on going out to work or sell products to earn money to pay Bailey given that they're already permitted by Eden to go back to town every now and then and that Eden didn't directly buy PC from Bailey. Take your time imma just be here sick in bed.

Hey! So sorry this took so long! I hope you're doing much better now. And don't worry about not having done art! We all work at our own paces, don't push yourself to create when you don't have the will to.

I think I've already covered PC with a sickness, and how Eden is a stern but attentive caretaker. We can see this when there's pass out events at the cabin. They bring you in, put you to bed. After the pred/prey scene they even get you water. So Eden would likely work as normal, but come in to check on you every so often. Get you a drink or a snack. If you're well enough, you can do small indoor chores. If not, sleep as much as is needed.

As for traumatised Eden at the market? Mmmm that good. That's a yummy one. Note: when I say that it's often about horrible things, isn't it? Double note: Lynx would be Axe body spray to the 'Muricans.

Oh - warning for mentions of past non-con btw.

There's too much noise. It burrows into his brain, denying any attempts to drown out the calls of purveyors of goods around him. Calling out their produce, prices, how long they'd be there.

There's a baby crying. Wailing as it's father talks on the phone and half-asses shushing it by waving a toy in its face while he isn't even looking at the babe.

There's so many smells he swears they're causing him a headache. Food. Sweat. Some abhorrent chemical smell as a group of teenage boys pass. He remembers Lynx. Remembers the locker rooms at school.

There's eyes everywhere. Blue, green, brown. He thought he saw red at one point. No- no he definitely did. There's a group of goths wandering around. Probably one of them with contact lenses. Eden could swear he feels at least one pair of eyes on him each and every second.

Scant few customers come to his stall. Its mostly older patrons: elderly craftspeople who still practise their trades as the youth buy from companies; aspiring chefs excited to grill up some real game; this one old man who always shows up for the dried back-strap. Eden doesn't remember his name, but the man swears by the stuff. Says Eden comes with the best stock and those other hunters bring bare scraps. Not a surprise, he's seen the incompetence of others who come through the forest.

He swears he can hear laughter amongst the throngs of people. Swears that it must be directed at him. His ugly face. His huge body. His clothing, old and patched. But he has to stay. Has to do it for you. To keep you safe and out of Bailey's money machine.

He wished you were here. Wished you'd come bounding up to him with that smile of yours and drag him home. But you're also at work, coralling dogs at the pound for spare change to contribute to Eden's payments to Bailey. Apparently the mutts listen now that you smell like him. Funny thing, how he affects animals. Even dumbass chickens hate him. He'd considered getting some once, but they'd get so stressed around him they wouldn't be able to lay any eggs. Oh, and foxes could take them.

Best to stay there, in those inconsequential memories of the past. It's hard to when he sees a face that surges horrid memories to the front instead. The man looked to be about 70 by this point, wobbling around with a cane. He'd already been grey when they'd met.

"Got any boar meat, lad?" He wheezed, bug-like eyes pooring over the table. His voice was weaker than it had been. There's no flicker of recognition in the freaky eyes.

"A few cuts. Belly or back? I've got hooves, too." Eden's voice doesn't break. Doesn't show his rising panic.

A claw-like hand reaches out to where Eden directed his attention. A shiver goes down the hunter's spine. He remembers those hands. How clammy and cold they'd been. How... insistent and encompassing.

"Aye, this one's a good heavy steak. How much?"

Eden's eyes didn't leave the old man's face. "Freshest cut, got the beast last night. £5."

The old man licks his lips as he pries his wallet free, the appendage dried, cracked and pale. Just like the rest of him. He'd had a tan back then. A terrible, fake one. Fucker had been orange.

Teens ran past once more, barely missing the old man as they screamed. The crypt-bound bag of bones scoffed, disgust apparent. But his eyes linger too long on one of the older boys, with longer dark hair and a skinny frame, just about old enough to start drinking Eden thinks.

Attention soon returned to the hunter, the smile back. Oh look, he'd kept half of his teeth. Impressive for someone his age. They were rotted, though. More so than they had been when he'd visited the orphanage. Probably time for dentures. Eden could still remember the smell of his breath.

"£5, a good price for a good steak. My wife will fry this up well." He's laughing. Eden grants him a polite smile as he wraps up the meat and hands it over.

He tracks the old man as he leaves, watching as his thumb strokes over the paper bill in his hand. He doesn't take a deep breath until he knows he's gone. He can't take a deep breath until he knows, for sure, that he's gone.

£2.50 was what he'd payed for Eden back then.

#spill your guts #zeozzo #eden the hunter #cw noncon mention #gn reader #cw paranoia

[paranoia-culture-is]

Tw suicide mention

Paranoia + probably PTSD culture is please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself please don't kill yourself

-🐁🐀

.

#paranoia culture is #paranoia #ask #culture is #paranoia queue #cw sui mention

[slugass]

hey disability activists, if you’re going to call out people being assholes to people with mental disablities:

-don’t use shit like “i’m in ur walls” or any meme SPECIFICALLY DESIGNED TO TRIGGER MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE as a “haha funny” threat.

-suicide baiting like “kys” is NOT neccessary. you don’t need to do that.

-if you do either of those things, PLEASE ADD A GODDAMN TRIGGER WARNING.

don’t be a fucking hypocrite.

#ableism #swearing #swearing cw #swearing tw #i am in your walls cw #paranoia inducing #paranoia inducing cw #paranoia-inducing #suicide mention #suicide cw #suicide tw #suicide baiting cw #suicide baiting tw #mental health awarness #hypocrisy #vent #sanism #saneism

[chaotic-queer-disaster]

mentally healthy people who talk about the matrix theory like it's real around paranoid people & psychotic people are going to hell no matter what <3 sincerely, 1 paranoid bastard

#not psychotic but i imagine that. whatever i feel over this. they feel Worse #ask to tag #conspiracy theories cw #conspiracy theory tw #paranoia inducing #<- just in case #i know sometimes for me even the mention of it is. bad

[timetravelerpyrite]

△

are. you okay??

i've asked simon and that's not even him sending those questions (he has a habit of doing that sometimes. mostly to our mutual friend.) so...

I-... uh...

I am scared your friend is gonna kill me if she sees what I've said at some point.

I am worried I'm gonna make everyone uncomfortable because my stupid fucking heart falls for anyone who is attractive and in my age range-

I feel like I'm being watched constantly and it's making me uncomfortable. Like theres always someone around the corner ready to take me-

I feel like a rat in a cage being forced to run on a wheel for people who just want to see me run because they find it funny.

Sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore-

Fucking hell this damn triangle makes me fucking spill my guts-

9/10

#pokemon irl #pokeblogging #pkmn irl #little hops #ask game #cw death mention #cw paranoia #cw dissociation #//Ask to tag #//Pyrite info

[antiendovents]

breaking the queue I already set up to vent. Probably gonna put it under the cut because GOD DAMN I am angry. Dont worry, the queue will be back to normal soon ((yes I queue posts, don't question me, I will cry))

Uh, also I think I'll add a tag for my own vents, so you can block them if you wanna (#personal vent / #personal vents <- two because I'll probably forget to add or get rid of the "s")

I HATE ENDOS. I am like barely holding myself together, I am sick and tired of trying to find xenogenders, labels, ect, for me and my headmates only for them to be made by endos. Even when I see pro endos with like "oh, DNI if anti endo, but you can still use my terms so don't reclaim them" it makes me pissed off because I DONT WANT to use an pro endos term. I shouldn't have to. Am I going to reclaim it? I DONT KNOW. I want to but I have no motivation, only fear and anger. I am sick of my disorder being treated like a game. I have literally lost years of my life. Years, months that I can't remember. All of it gone. I question whats a trauma response and what's not constantly, I don't know if the trauma I remember is all that happened or if there's more I don't know about. Yet endos can just sit here with their little roleplaying accounts, pretending to have the disorder that makes my life a living hell. I can't make friends, I'm so fucking scared of people, of the outside world, so I come here to the internet and everything is so much worse. FUCK SAKE WHY CANT I JUST HAVE A SPACE TO BE ME. I am so tired of endos taking over safe spaces.

#This probably doesn't make sense #I am currently having a sort of anxiety attack #Or melt down #I cant really tell #I don't know who I am either #So there's that #:3 #tw swearing #I guess #I don't usually warn it #But there's a lot of it #cw paranoia mention #? #Personal vent #Personal vents #anti endo #did #did system #endos dni #plural #actually did #alters #system #endos fuck off #did osdd

[birchisnotokay]

Day 13 Nightmares

seems like a good time to share my new au...yeah

basically RHM (Lawrence in this au) had a nightmare of all his loved ones dying right in front of him, and he saw a figure of Jaques Kensington, then he woke up feeling very paranoid and scared, fortunately Reginald is always there to help his boyfriend<3

#cw paranoia #totally dont have heavy angst ready for them in the au.........no<3 #if you guys are interested in this au from the short scene i wrote lmk cause id gladly explain this au and the lore !!!!! #thsc #thsc art #thsc fanart #the henry stickmin collection #stickmintines2023 #thsc au #the henry stickmin collection au #thsc rhm #thsc right hand man #lawrence suave #← heres a free hint on the au #reginald copperbottom #jaques kensington #(mentioned) #copperright #my art

[ilikecheeseandchocolatee]

Well not exactly a vent but it’s just stuff pertaining to my personal life that only a few mutuals know about sooooooo yeah read the tags first for content warnings

Just talked to a friend from school after a long long time because i wanted to make sure he’s doing okay (he’s Palestinian) and yeah i just talked about how I hope i see him whole and healthy when I come back to school next month, and he said that he hopes I’m better too

And I was like wait what

So yeah idk if you guys know but memory issues are probably my main main problem right now in that they’re actually horrifically bad and I should really see a professional about this as soon as I am financially able to. So I was like okay what if there was something wrong with me last time I was in school

So I asked him what I was like last October and he said that I seemed really stressed/paranoid and that I seemed really on edge (those are his words) and like damn. In that regard yeah I’m doing so so much better now than back then. Which is understandable because England always fucks up my mental health I just didn’t expect it to be that bad in October. What in the world was a stressed about? I had nothing to be stressed about except my medications doing their job. NOW I have about a billion things to be stressed about. And honestly what was I being paranoid about. I have pretty much no memories of last year now which is obviously not ideal because I have exams for fucks sake.

Past me I am sorry for always throwing shade at you, I’m trying to remember that I don’t remember the past and I can’t possibly judge you for things if I don’t remember what you were going through. But I keep forgetting about my memory issues. I’m very sorry and please know I still love you and I know you’ve been doing your best since you turned 15. I’m sorry that I keep doubting you and hating you. I’ll try to remind myself that I have issues.

Future me here is a promise. I promise that I’ll try to be kind to myself, ALL versions of myself. I’ll try to be kind to myself when I feel lazy and hopeless, and I’ll try to be kind to myself when my thoughts are getting the better of me. I’ll try to be kind to myself as I work on myself and I’ll try to see the progress I’ve made in the past few years. I’ll try to be kind when im struggling and I’ll try to be kind when I’m doing better. I’ll try to remember to not throw shade at any past version of me, because I’ll try to remind myself that I don’t remember most things anymore. I know I keep feeling like I DO remember but I need to accept that I don’t, not just the times when I get proof that I don’t. I need to remember that I do not remember things and to not judge past me anymore. Im sorry past me. And I promise future me. See you both

#okay yeah it’s a vent sorta #vent #rant #tw vent #tw rant #it’s not that long tho #cw paranoia #cw England mention #cw mental health #cw memory issues #cw current events #meep meeeeeeeeeeeep #as a side note I know that a lot of the time I’m grateful for my memory issues because then I can also forget bad things #and stressful problems and whatnot. but there seem to be a lot of downsides too. #i forget important things. i still haven’t sorted out my voter id which I was supposed to do in the past couple of months #i forget to drink water? but I think everyone has that #idk I can’t remember what I forget right now #yeah one of the worst things about the memory issues is the paradox of not knowing what I forget because I’ve obviously forgotten it #and a lot of the time I get the feeling that I’m forgetting something but the problem with that now is #maybe I have that feeling almost constantly these days because I’ve started just ignoring it #before this recent downgrade of my memory those feelings that im forgetting something were my greatest superpower #I’d be like okay. my brain is telling me im forgetting something. and then I’d sit and think for a while until I remembered. #but now I just straight up ignore the feeling because I have it all the damn time. #which is not good? i think? #like yeah the issues keep me stressfree most of the time but it’s still so horribly inconvenient #what if im travelling on a plane and I forget where I put my passport and boarding pass #that would be disastrous #it’s scary sometimes #the knowledge that I have memory issues but no knowledge of what I can do about it to make sure I stay safe #it’s a weird and paradoxical existence with having memory issues if im honest

[animalcrossingnewhorizons]

i havent felt suicidal in a very long time since medicated until today. my GP forced out of me in front of my very conservative and transphobic grandmother and aunt that i'm trans. i genuinely wanted to run into incoming traffic

i've known i've been trans since i was 13 but none of them including the GP believe me that im consciously making that choice. that it's somehow a side effect of me being Mentally Ill, and apparently once my Traumas are all resolved after therapy i wont feel the same way :)))

i wish they could just. accept me for who i am. i feel so unsafe

#clicks! #suicide mention cw #im grateful that im hopefully ok despite what my paranoia is telling me #i feel a lot more endangered right now #but i understand it could have been a lot worse. im grateful #it was so very traumatizing

[moss-theft]

Untagged pro-pregnancy posts are just pregnancy propaganda, pass it on.

#pregnancy #pregnancy mention #pregnancy tw #pregnancy cw #childfree #pregnancy paranoia #no kids for me thanks #laws off my body

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3

This was really stretching the limits of what Jon should have been able to do at this point in his recovery, but he took a deep breath and pulled himself up. It hurt more than it would have a few weeks before, but he managed to complete the maneuver with only a little more difficulty than he had three years ago. He hung suspended in midair for a second, then dropped lightly to the ground. By some miracle, he managed to stay on his feet.

Melanie whirled around and did not noticeably relax when she—evidently—recognized him. “Jesus! What are you doing? I thought you were going to stay outside!”

“And get caught loitering?” Jon hissed back. “You’re not doing this alone. Besides, I’m curious, too.” He pointed slightly to the left. “There’s a blind spot between those two.”

Thankfully, Melanie didn’t waste precious time arguing, just nodded and set off, Jon hot on her heels.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for Jon to be on board with this excursion. The relative with the alleged cat rescue turned out to be a great-aunt with something of a hoarding problem who was nonetheless more than happy to let Melanie and Jon have their pick to take back with them, but when Melanie confessed her real purpose in coming up to Jon on the train ride from London he’d agreed to it at once. As Martin had said the night of Prentiss’ attack on the Institute, once he’d accepted that any of this was true it was safest to just accept all of it, and if Melanie was right—and he had no real reason to doubt her—he wanted to know. Besides, she would need backup.

They’d spent the last three days casing out the C.F. Booth scrap metal and recycling yard, which was only a few miles away from where they were staying. It was well-guarded to discourage people from doing exactly what they were doing, but two heads were better than one, especially two heads with a desire for knowledge and years of experience in getting into places they weren’t wanted, and they’d figured out the best spot and time to scramble over the high walls.

Jon wasn’t sure if Melanie had assumed he wouldn’t be able to get over the wall or genuinely thought he’d be better off guarding her place of egress, or just hadn’t given it much thought at all, but to hell with that. If she’d wanted him to leave her to do this on her own, she shouldn’t have mentioned “friends of friends” in the ghost-hunting community who poked around places solo and never came back.

Actually, if she hadn’t wanted him along, she probably shouldn’t have told him what she was up to in the first place.

It was extremely difficult to see what they were doing. The moon was only half-full, and partially obscured by clouds, and it wasn’t like the place was well-lit. The only lights around the yard seemed to be motion-sensitive security lights, which they were both trying not to trip. And despite the claims made by a character in a book he’d read as a child that had stuck with him (and that he’d been extremely disappointed, years later, to learn weren’t true), brown-eyed people did not actually have better low-light vision than blue-eyed people.

“You’d think the guards would set off the lights occasionally,” Melanie muttered, peering around a corner and gripping her torch, which she hadn’t turned on for obvious reasons.

“They probably know where all the sensors are. That way they know if a light goes on it’s an intruder.” Jon looked over Melanie’s shoulder. “Our eyes should adjust sooner or later, but meanwhile…”

“We can’t really stand about and wait for that. Come on, let’s try this way.”

It was a cool evening, not too terribly chilly, but there was a breeze blowing that made Jon thankful he’d borrowed one of Martin’s jumpers before they’d left London. Well, borrowed was admittedly a bit of a misnomer; stolen might be more accurate, since he hadn’t asked first, but it was the one Martin had wrapped around his shoulders after they’d been released from quarantine when he couldn’t stop shivering and wasn’t sure if it was from cold or fear. The jumper helped with both, not that Jon would admit that out loud. He found himself balling the cuffs into his hands whenever something made him jump, which was a lot. He was sure it was annoying Melanie, but she wasn’t saying anything.

Suddenly, he stopped dead. “Wait,” he whispered.

Melanie whirled around to face him, then grabbed his arm and dragged him into a deeper shadow. “Are you nuts?” she hissed. “You can’t just stop in the middle of an open space, we’ll get caught for sure! What is it?”

“Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“Just…just smell.” Jon sniffed at the air. There it was again—the faint but unmistakable coppery scent of old blood.

Melanie sniffed, too, and her eyes widened. “That’s it. That’s what we’re looking for.”

Jon nodded. “So we follow our noses, is that it?”

“I suppose so. After you, Scooby Doo.”

“Why do I have to be the dog?”

“Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?”

Jon rolled his eyes, sniffed the air again, and set off in a new direction.

His eyes gradually adjusted to the low light, and he could make out the looming shapes of the old rail cars and engines above them. Far from making him feel more confident, however, it only made him feel more nervous. Sounds seemed amplified, and he and Melanie stopped again and again at what might have been footsteps on the other side of the car they stood by and what might have been someone on the other side of the yard. At one point, Melanie grabbed Jon’s arm roughly and about made him jump out of his skin.

“What?” he hissed.

“I thought I saw—” Melanie broke off, staring up at one of the rail cars overhead. “Never mind.”

“No, what?” Jon insisted.

Melanie tore her gaze away from the windows, but she didn’t really let go of Jon’s arm. “I thought I saw someone watching us from the windows, but there’s nothing there.”

A year ago—even six months ago—Jon would probably have suggested it was their reflections, or a long-forgotten poster tacked in the window, despite the fact that there wasn’t enough light for them to really show up in the windows, certainly not from this angle. Now, however, he tossed a nervous glance at one of the other carriages—and did a double-take. For just a second, he could have sworn he’d seen someone lean their head against the glass, but the figure was gone when he looked again.

“It’s not just you,” he admitted softly. Without conscious thought, he shifted his hand to take Melanie’s.

After a second, his brain caught up to what he was doing. Aside from the worm scars, which had to be an unpleasant texture, Jon had always been prone to dry, rough skin on his hands and he was terrible about remembering to buy lotion, let alone use it before it expired. One of the things Jon and Melanie had discovered they had in common over the last two months was an aversion to certain textures, and then there was the fact that Jon had been chided his entire childhood for grabbing at people. He’d just wanted to be held, to have some sort of human contact and connection, but his grandmother had always insisted he obtain consent before touching anyone, and Georgie had always treated him like a weirdo for asking every time he wanted to give her a hug or hold her hand, so he’d gradually just stopped asking, or doing for that matter. He was better about that than he’d been, and God knew Martin was always ready with a hug or a friendly nudge or just a gentle touch—to say nothing of Melanie shoving him around the same way she did her brothers—but in that moment, he knew he’d screwed up.

He was about to let go, to apologize, but Melanie laced her fingers through his and tugged. “Come on. Smell’s getting stronger. Won’t be long now.”

They kept tight hold of one another’s hands, still moving slowly and, Jon felt, with even less confidence than before. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they would find what they were looking for—it was that he did, and that he was sure they weren’t ready for it. Well, perhaps Melanie was; after all, she’d been doing this sort of thing for most of her life.

As if in response to his thoughts, Melanie said softly, “I’ve never done this sort of thing without Martin before. Well, and Gerry, but…I thought I could handle it on my own because I knew how. Didn’t realize how much of feeling like I’d be okay came from having him there.”

Jon managed a laugh. “Reading minds, Ms. King?”

“Haven’t figured that one out yet. I just felt like being honest with you in case it’s my last chance.”

“In that case, I should probably be honest as well and admit I’d feel better if Martin was here, too.”

Melanie actually gave him a quick, crooked smile. “Not exactly news, mate.”

Jon wouldn’t have admitted it in a million years, but the mate warmed him to his toes.

He had long since lost track of time and he’d left his phone back at Great-Aunt Beatrice’s house, but the moon had dipped halfway to the horizon before both Jon and Melanie stopped and turned to each other, mouths open, before closing them and nodding as they realized they’d both noticed the same thing. The scent of blood was stronger than ever, and seemed to be coming from just ahead of them.

And then they stepped around the next corner, and Melanie nodded grimly. “That’s it. I recognize the description.”

Jon swallowed hard as he looked at the train car in front of them. As Melanie had described on their way up, it was old, its outline visible even in the darkness. In fact, it seemed to Jon to be almost too visible. The smell of blood was definitely all around them, choking out all the other scents and seeming to muffle sounds as well, and while Jon knew that was nonsense, it felt right. It had a presence, almost as though it was alive somehow, like it might suddenly come awake and start chasing after them.

“If you turn on your light and that thing has a face, we are leaving,” he muttered.

“I’d rather be on the Island of Sodor. At least we could count on someone to help us there,” Melanie muttered back, but she switched on her torch—they were far enough from the security stations that it was probably safe.

The rail car didn’t have a face. What it did have was a few flakes of drab green paint stuck to its metal sides, a sliding door across the center, and an incredibly solid build. Jon was no expert in trains and rail cars, but he knew enough to tell that the car dated back to World War II or even earlier, and that it should have been a rusted, crumbling bit of scrap. Instead, there wasn’t a speck of rust on it, and its body seemed completely intact. Melanie’s torch played over it, and something caught Jon’s eye.

“Wait,” he whispered. “What’s that?”

“Where?” Melanie swung the torch back and stopped when Jon squeezed her hand. Painted in one corner of the car, in black blocky stenciled characters, was a serial number.

It looked…not new. Certainly not. But it definitely looked as though it hadn’t faded or flaked in the time since it was put on the train. The green paint surrounding it was untouched. It was as though the whole thing, or at least this corner of it, was suspended in time somehow, a perfect capsule of an era long since past. As though they had stepped through a portal and any moment would be hearing gunfire, or an air-raid siren.

“Hold this.” Melanie thrust the torch at Jon and fished about in her pockets for a moment. He immediately missed the contact, but he kept the torch light steady on the serial number. Melanie came up with a square, spiral-bound notebook and what looked like a crayon and scribbled down the number, then slid it back into her pocket.

“To look up later?” Jon asked. Melanie nodded. “This feels…I think this is an Army car.”

“I think you’re right.”

“So this is the Slaughter.”

“Not necessarily. Look.” Melanie took the torch from him and directed it to the other end of the car. The paint on that end was nearly gone, but there was just a hint of what might have once been a white circle of some kind.

Jon stared at it, then at Melanie. “It’s…what does that mean?”

Melanie shrugged. “Could have been a hospital car. Which means this might be the Corruption.” She paused for a moment and looked over at Jon. Even in the darkness, he could see the sudden worry in her eyes. “In which case maybe you shouldn’t go near it.”

“And if it’s the Slaughter, you shouldn’t go near it,” Jon retorted. “Wasn’t that the whole point in getting Martin to tell us what we’ve been Marked by?”

Melanie hesitated for a moment. “Fair enough. Let’s…let’s take a look and see what’s here. And, look, the only Mark we both share is the Eye, right? This isn’t that. So if something comes after us—”

“It’ll probably only go for one of us,” Jon completed, “and the other can protect that one.”

“Exactly.” Melanie took a deep breath and hesitated, then stepped forward.

Jon desperately wanted to reach for her hand again, but settled for balling the cuffs of his stolen jumper into his hands again and following.

He expected it would take both of them to pull open the sliding door, but to his surprise—and mild alarm—when he wrapped his hands around the handle and pulled, there was almost no resistance. It rolled open smoothly, with a bit of a rattle and a creak but nothing like he’d have anticipated from something that had stood at the mercy of the elements for at least seventy years. He was torn between the instinct to go slowly to minimize the noise and the instinct to go quickly to avoid detection, but it didn’t take long in the end and then the car was laid bare and open for them.

It was dark. Far darker than it had any right to be, really, almost like it was swallowing any light from around it. Melanie’s torch hit the wall opposite them, and it was blank, featureless steel. Jon would have been prepared to swear there was nothing in there, except that the smell of blood was almost overpowering, so thick and cloying he could practically taste it. He heard a faint dripping noise, and his eyes instinctively drew downwards. Suddenly, he grabbed Melanie’s arm and pointed.

Melanie brought the torch light down. It glinted on the thick, red, viscous stream of liquid trickling over the edge of the car. Blood. Still flowing, oozing from some unknown source, it rolled over the lip of the door track—the floor must be awash with it if it was enough to get over the edge—and splattered on the ground below. Jon was half-convinced they’d found something with no supernatural explanation, just walked into some sort of killer’s stronghold.

The beam of light traced the stream back. Jon was surprised to see, through craning his head, that the streams weren’t that bad really—there were streaks across the floor, but nothing like the puddle he’d imagined—and he supposed it was building up at the lip and spilling over somehow. Maybe the car was at a slight angle. At the other end of the stream was an old-fashioned hospital gurney draped in olive-green fabric, atop which sat a white body bag…a mostly-white body bag. There were black stains near the bottom.

And it was moving. It jerked about as if trying to free itself—or as if it were in pain. Whoever was in that bag was alive.

Jon definitely didn’t want to be there anymore. He was getting ready to try and pull Melanie away when something suddenly flashed out of the corner of his eye. He stood, frozen in horror or terror or both, as a shape burst from the left side of the car and charged over to the gurney.

It looked like a man, wearing a uniform like Jon had seen in countless old photographs with a white armband emblazoned with a red cross on one arm—Melanie was right, this had to have been a hospital car—and what looked like a surgical scalpel held in his hand. He ran over to the body bag and began stabbing it, over and over.

The eyes—Jon knew those eyes were going to haunt his dreams for a good long while. They were devoid of everything human, everything that made a person a person. They were instead filled with nothing but the carnage in front of them, the feel of the knife plunging into the living flesh, the blood itself. Cold, paralyzing fear churned through Jon’s veins like ice water. Melanie beside him had gone rigid, her face transfixed into something between fascination and horror as she stared at those eyes.

They’d been right the first time. This was a supernatural encounter. This was the Slaughter.

The small niggling common sense part of his brain shouted over the fascination in a voice that sounded a lot like Martin’s that if the ghost was stabbing a body with its side facing them, they shouldn’t have been able to see its eyes so clearly. Belatedly, Jon caught the flash of light on metal and realized the ghost was charging straight towards them—straight towards Melanie.

Jon was not a brave man, but he was coming to realize that he was, under certain circumstances, a very stubborn one.

Not bothering to waste breath on shouting her name, he threw his whole body towards her, trying to push her out of the ghost’s path. Pulling her might have been safer for both of them, but it would have given her too much of a chance to resist, whereas by body-slamming her out of the way he at least had gravity and surprise on his side. It worked, and the torch beam flailed wildly around, but only insofar as it got Melanie out of the way. Something cold and sharp sliced its way into his shoulder as he fell, and he yelped involuntarily before slamming his hand into his mouth to stifle his cry of pain.

“Come on!” Melanie pulled herself out from under Jon and dragged him to his feet, not letting go of his hand, and they ran.

Every step sent a renewed throb of agony through Jon’s shoulder, but he didn’t dare stop or slow down. He didn’t know if they were trying to outrun the ghost or the guards or both, but by some miracle they made it back to their entry point unobserved. Jon managed to leap up and grab the top of the wall, but his shoulder screamed in pain and he knew he would never be able to pull himself over it again.

He was about to let go, to tell Melanie to run for it and he’d take the consequences, but Melanie grabbed his feet and shoved him upwards. It still hurt, but he did manage to—eventually—get a leg up over the top of the wall. Just as he was dragging himself up, Melanie hoisted herself up beside him and swung over the wall to the ground. Jon managed to get his second leg to the top of the wall, then simply rolled off the other side and let himself fall. He barely had the wherewithal to twist himself in midair so he landed on his uninjured shoulder, but the impact still knocked the air from his lungs and stunned him momentarily.

Noises were coming from the other side of the wall—footsteps, distant shouting—and Jon knew the guards were coming. Any minute they would discover Melanie’s torch, and then someone would be around the wall looking for them, and it would be a matter of convincing the guards that, no, they hadn’t broken into the scrap yard, but he couldn’t move yet. Melanie, fortunately, could, and she grabbed Jon’s hands and yanked him to his feet, causing a renewed surge of agony to course through his shoulder. Somehow, he managed to keep his feet under him as they bolted.

At last Jon stumbled, and they both fell to the ground, breathing heavily. Jon’s face was wet and sticky, and he tasted salt. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying, but between the pain and the fear, it made sense. Still trying to catch his breath, he pressed his hand to his aching shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it came away bloody.

“Fuck,” he managed. He covered the wound with his hand again, trying to apply as much pressure as he could, but he’d never been that physically strong. He looked up at Melanie. “Please tell me—you have your phone.”

Melanie shook her head, still gasping for air. “Thought it’d be—safer if I—couldn’t be tracked.”

“Me, too. We’ll have to—flag down a passing motorist.” Unlike the previous two nights, they’d walked the six miles from the house to the scrap yard so there would be nothing to trace back to them if the guards got suspicious. They had put a great deal of thought, Jon realized, into all the wrong things.

He turned to look down the road at the sound of an approaching motor, then turned back to Melanie. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Melanie nodded, face grim as she pressed both hands over Jon’s to try and staunch the flow of blood while also glancing towards the first glint of headlights from what looked to be a lorry. “Martin is going to kill us.”

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest) #tma fanfic #jonathan sims #melanie king #blood cw #violence cw #peril cw #military cw #medical mention cw #paranoia cw #it's based on MAG076 so just keep that in mind