#Alcina Dimitrescu mentioned

[affectionatecorpse]

I have no justification for this

[sapphicrow]

His Better.

(A lil Lady D drabble looking at her past)

———————————

Dear Diary,

Today is the anniversary of his death. Of his complete and total departure from my world. Those who remember him perhaps view this day as a day of mourning, though I must confess I feel no such grief. A buzz of vibrant elation hums in my chest. His portrait sits in the main hall once more for today, but if not for Mother Miranda’s command for it to be in such an honorable place it would be fueling the hearth that warms my feet as I indulge in sapphic erotica, plentiful goblets of wine, maybe even a maiden or four on their knees begging for an opportunity to breathe the same air as I. He would call me a heathen and a whore. I shall call him, with phony tears in my eyes, a victim of times of political unrest. Patricide may be the more precise term, but alas, I shan’t spoil my lovely day with scandal. Mother does not wish for the truth to be spoken. I suppose it is a fair wish. I may not speak it, but I find myself needing to release this memory from my head, lest it rot in there and I begin to feel sorry for the bitch.

My father was not a good man. He was barely a man. He was a nincompoop who took advantage of his station, and his staff, and his abundant liquor collection. He was not kind. It is not for this reason I resent him, for I can hardly claim to be kind either. I resent him for his failure as a count, and his confidence in his incompetence. I remember watching his fat, clumsy fingers struggle to button his lavishly crafted waist coat with contempt. I knew from a young age that I was a far better leader than he. That my own hands, nimble and steady from years of the pointless needlework noble girls were expected to do, were suited for the control he fumbled about with so terribly. For holding the throne. I remember being fifteen years of age, watching him bumble about his office in a suit lined with silk he did not deserve the softness of. The war had threatened to touch his territory. Even then I knew that securing assets would be a vital defense for the empire he wished to construct. He did no such thing. He simply ran around like a chicken with its head severed and defiled more maids in his stress. The only measure he took was of how many drinks he could fit in his bulbous stomach. I couldn’t fathom being so irresponsible. If his land in the Carpathian Mountains was threatened, was it not clear as day that he should be worried about finding other means to protect his legacy? I recall creeping into his office in the dead of night to look over the correspondences surrounding the war and his rule and the financials that were spread carelessly about the big oak desk, my heist backed by the erratic growl of his snores. I felt as if I had forged his signature hundreds of times, even if it was my very first act of blatant treachery. It still felt so natural to use his name for my own game. It wasn’t as if he was using it for anything useful. That night he wrote a very fine letter to the duchies nearby asking for an alliance through these trying times, though the recipients would question the flair to his cursive, as well as the fact that there seemed to be a scribbled out A before his signature. I would not let this incompetent fool ruin my holdings. I would have the power that was my birthright.

For years, I would conduct similar such maneuvers. It became a performance of sorts. The key ring would leap from his belt loop to my gloved hand, landing with a graceful turn into the lock of his office. My slippered feet would dance through the slimmest crack of the door so as not to let light from the open curtains spill into the other room. My night gown would sway with me, it became synonymous with the robes of a queen in my mind. I’d Chassé from the doorway to his desk, all too eager to begin my work. The moon and I became partners in this secretive dance, for she was the subtle light I remained loyal to, granting me sight of the papers I now held under my midnight authority. And so began the unofficial, unnoticed rule of the new Dimitrescu, though the old one was oblivious to how he’d been replaced. Thankfully the old fool was a drunkard and simply believed he had managed to make all of these lucrative decisions in his intoxicated stupor.

As if.

Looking back, I cannot help but laugh heartily at how bold I was. I am much too good. But a large amount of my amusement is pointed at the pure egocentrism of the man who named himself my father. How humorous the thought of a drunk man taking the time to send out the decrees I painstakingly assembler was. There was a time when this did not entertain me, however. It was no laughing matter when my father took all the credit for my success. I had heard so much praise on the account of his wise conduct of the county. Barons and dukes and alike bowed to him, preening in his presence as if he exuded some holy power.

I grew bitter.

I was the one making these decisions! I was the one keeping him together! I had created this man’s legacy in the dead of night and neither he nor his adoring fans knew this. It infuriated me. Dear Diary, I am ashamed to admit that even now I’ve cracked the stem of my glass reminiscing upon it. For lack of a more eloquent response to this situation, it just wasn’t fair! Surely if they knew the raven haired girl with his nose and ten times his wit trailing behind him was the one truly in charge, they wouldn’t grovel to him the same way. He would be forgotten like the sorry bastard he was while everyone kissed the ground I walked upon. But they didn’t know. And so I was just his daughter. A material object he constantly strove to rid himself of. It was infuriating, I tell you, infuriating! I could only feed off of second hand acknowledgement for so long.

And so, a plot came to be. Or rather, a hastily conceived idea. I did not spend fortnights planning his death. I did not weave a technical tale of coverups and falsehoods. There was no subtlety. I was sick of hiding. You call it a risk, I called it a need. A need for his blood coating my hands as soon as possible. It was the eve of a grand event- which one it was escapes my memory for there was simply no end to the monotonous parties I was dragged along to - but all I knew was that I couldn’t stand to see him grin so smugly with the acclaim he hadn’t truly earned even one more time.

This night was not a ballet. I did not dance on light feet through the halls. I near slammed the door of my chambers as I tore through the corridors. The moon could not illumine me tonight. She would take no pleasure in seeing him torn to pieces, though I certainly would. I was near frothing at the mouth. One could paint my likeness as the lycans that now hunger in the shadows of the village.

I opened his door and closed it behind me without an ounce of gentleness. Let them hear. My nightgown billowed around me like the dark cloaks death was usually depicted wearing. The old man could not hear me over his snores. I clutched the previously ornamental dagger in my hand and snarled at the sight of his peaceful sleep. I was not going to allow him to slumber through this. In my rage I punched through the glass of his window (I dimly acknowledged it would be a good alibi for the later accusation of assassins, but mostly I just yearned for his terror) to the sound of which he shot up. He looked around frantically and saw the face of his daughter as the blade plunged into him without the courtesy of a warning. It was a wet, nasty slide of flesh around the metal of my blade. It was the sickest form of penetration. It was my finest act of political assistance to his county. I grin now at the memory of his shock. His greedy mouth parted in disbelief. He croaked my name into the night and I twisted the blade deeper. I only remember the sound from me being something between a growl and a triumphant laugh. He tried to cry out and I pulled the dagger from his side and forced it down his throat the same way I knew he had forced his foul chode down the throats of unwilling maidens. His lips curved around it and I looked down at him as his fat body flailed in agony. He deserved this, I had thought as I shoved my hand past his teeth and drug the blade along the walls of his esophagus, he deserves to die. I am greater at thirty than he ever was at fifty. I am not his daughter, I am his better. That was my mantra as I pulled horrific noises from this man. It was the most pleasurable thing I’d ever done. I had expected at least some remorse, but seeing him bloodied and dying brought me nothing but glee. I watched death tear him from his hideous form and I did not relent. I stabbed again and again until I felt calm. I had three decades of pent up anger to get out, so he was long dead before then. He looked like an oversized meatball when I was done, limp in the bed he spent most of his lazy fucking life in.

My white slip was dyed red with vengeance. This was my coronation long before I ever received the crown. I still keep that gown as a momento, though it is now far too small.

Today I contemplate that garment with all its dried blood and crusted on innards. Perhaps I have a wardrobe filled with fine dresses, but none is as fine as that one.

Can a normal dress be stained with the moment you gained independence? Can it tell the story of the rise of House Dimitrescu? Since that day we have done nothing but prosper. Even a century later I do not regret it.

Dear Diary, I am Alcina Dimitrescu. I am a cruel woman. I am power. I am not his daughter. I am forever his better.

[the-castle-of-dimitrescu]

Raine was so happy to see that Alcina had put some healthy weight back on, and attributes it to Wendy's fantastic cooking. All three girls were home with them, and the mood in the estate had gradually picked back up following the miscarriage.

Raine had actually pulled Dani aside and explained what had happened, and the poor girl had immediately broken into tears, her mood shifting, tiptoeing around Alcina for fear of setting her mother off into a spiral by saying the wrong thing or asking the wrong questions. But Alcina answered every question the newly turned 16 year-old had, saving the details of the D&C procedure for another time.

The two of them were now sitting on the patio, enjoying the calm of the sunset, perfectly content to sit together on the porch swing. Raine had Alcina wrapped up in her arms, a thin blanket wrapped around her wife's shoulders as they settled together beneath the last rays of sunlight.

Raine pressed soft kisses against Alcina's head and shoulders, earning pleased hums from the woman lounging in her arms.

"Keep that up and I'll have to take you inside, darling." Alcina purred as Raine pressed another kiss against the pulse in Alcina's neck, her arms wrapped loosely around her wife's waist, keeping her close to her chest.

"Oohhh, dirty talk love. Don't threaten me with a good time." Raine teased right back, her hands drawn back to rest on Alcina's hips, mindful of any lingering tenderness that remained in Alcina's body.

Alcina fell quiet then, her gaze focused on the vineyard, her arms wrapped around herself as she fell into her thoughts. Raine noticed the change in her wife's mood and pressed another kiss against the back of her head, slowly drawing her attention back to the present.

"Penny for your thoughts, love?"

"Just... Thinking of what they could have been like." Alcina replied, leaning heavier against Raine. "What they could have done. What they would have liked."

Raine hummed in response, her hands gently rubbing Alcina's arms, her chin resting on her shoulder.

"Tell me?" She questioned, pressing a peck against Alcina's cheek, earning a soft smile in response. She didn't mention the taste of salt on her lips from the tears that had dripped down Alcina's cheek.

"If they had been a boy, I think he would have taken after Cassandra... Sports and video games. I know Cassandra would have taught him how to play basketball and soccer, and some silly little dance to make after a successful goal or point."

Raine chuckled at the thought, an image of a little boy dancing with Cassandra after scoring a soccer goal flashing in her mind.

"What if they had been a girl? Think she would have taken after Bela?"

"God no." Alcina chuckled, grabbing Raine's arms and wrapping them around her waist. "She would have taken after me, of course."

"Oh really? Beauty, grace and a smart-ass mouth?" Raine teased, bumping Alcina's temple with her forehead, earning a laugh from the raven-haired woman in her arms.

"You're already catching on, draga." Alcina replied, turning her head to press their foreheads together, breathing in the smell of the flowers blooming in the distance.

She closed her eyes, a sigh leaving her lips as she snuggled closer to Raine.

"I wanted so badly to have them..."

"I know, darling... I know." Raine replied, pressing a kiss to Alcina's lips. "You know that it's not your fault, right? That I don't blame you or hold any anger against you."

"I know..." Alcina replied, her voice a whisper against Raine's lips. "I can't help but blame myself though."

"Hush now. None of that talk, Alcina." Raine replied, her gaze focused on Alcina's, bringing her left hand up to gently cup Alcina's cheek. "You're not to blame, my love."

"But what if-"

"No buts, darling. No 'what ifs', no 'should haves', none of that. You did everything right, did everything you could, did everything the doctor told you." Raine smiled, her eyes glittering in the sunset. "I know you did, I know you tried so hard for us, and I couldn't be prouder of you. Perhaps we were jumping the gun a bit, or perhaps it just wasn't the right time to try, but that doesn't mean we can't try again in the future when we're ready."

Raine pressed another kiss to Alcina's forehead before meeting her eyes once more, her thumb gingerly brushing over Alcina's bottom lip.

"For now, we have three beautiful daughters to spoil, and new business ventures to make. New memories to create." She smiled again, wider this time. "We can try for a baby again, there's nothing stopping us from doing so. For now, I'm more than happy to have you all to myself."

Alcina finally smiled, tears once more dripping down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead against Raine's once more, a wet chuckle leaving her lips.

"You sure know how to make a lady feel special, draga mea... Thank you..."

"Anything for you, my love. Anything to see you smile."

[vamp-galactica]

Resident Evil Biohazard, Village, and the Cycle of Toxic Family Bonds and Abuse

Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, and its sequel, Resident Evil: Village, revolve around protagonist Ethan Winters as he tries to protect his family from forces he previously had no idea existed. The forces in question are an extended family suffering toxic bonds to each other- bonds both physically and emotionally poison. The core theme of the games is the cycle of toxic familial relationships, and the breaking of that cycle.

To fully understand the cycle of abuse that this story details, it’s important to look at each member of the family. The family tree starts with Mother Miranda, branching down into Alcina Dimitrescu, her three daughters Bela, Cassandra and Daniela, Karl Heisenberg, Salvatore Moreau, Donna Beneviento and Eveline. From Eveline, the family branches off into the Baker Family, with Jack, Marguerite, Lucas, and, by force, Mia. Zoe is still a Baker, but has been ousted from the rest of the family. The Bakers and the Lords are separate and never meet, connected only by Eveline, but it is Eveline who continued the cycle with the Bakers after learning it from Miranda.

Eveline was created as an attempt to bring back Miranda’s deceased daughter, but Miranda rejected her as her daughter because of her obsession with a family that made her violent- refusing to see that this obsession mirrored her own (such as when she was so obsessed with her own plan for her family that she gave up on reviving Eva at the end of Resident Evil Village and planned to just raise Rose as her own.) The flaws in other people were unacceptable, but in herself, they didn’t exist. Her obsessions, her hastiness, her tendency for unnecessary violence were left unacknowledged, but shunned and punished in other people, such as Moreau’s lack of affection in the family due to how deeply he wanted to be accepted, or Alcina being condescended to for warranted anger. Anyone flawed was not her true child, also shown by how she referred to The Four Lords as her false children and thanked Ethan for disposing of them once they were dead.

When her mother hastily disowned her, Eveline sought family in different places. She found it in her handler Mia Winters, and eventually in the Baker Family, overcompensating with a bigger family to make up for the one she didn’t get in the first place. No amount of family was enough for her- despite having Mia as a mother figure, she wanted Marguerite too. After she took the Bakers and had Jack as a father, she wanted Ethan too, and when Ethan arrived he found that she had been orchestrating multitudes of kidnappings via the Bakers to expand the family. Jack, Marguerite and Lucas had their worst traits amplified via an obsession with being Eveline’s family, and due to never having a model for what a loving family should look like, Evie didn’t understand why it never appeased her.

Despite wanting to constantly bring more people into the family to fill this hole, from the very beginning Evie ousted Zoe from the rest of the Bakers by not fully infecting her. She took just enough of a hold on her that she couldn’t leave, but left her consciousness fully untouched, leaving her helpless to watch her family descend into madness. Eveline purposefully set herself up as the family’s golden child and Zoe as the scapegoat. She taunted her and had her face scribbled out in pictures of her around the house, and influenced the other Bakers’ to shun and antagonize her. All of this to punish her for having a family of her own when Eveline didn’t. Zoe was rejected just as Miranda rejected Eveline.

The Bakers as a whole were forcibly cut off from society when infected by Eveline, their neighbors and other relatives having no idea where they went, and while Evie likely didn’t actually learn this act from Miranda, it was her mother who began the cycle of isolation as well. Miranda, however, was much more manipulative and sinister in her methods, whereas Eveline did the only thing she ever knew how to. Miranda forcibly took The Four Lords as her family, and while the timeline is unclear, it’s implied Heisenberg and Moreau were taken as children and Donna and Alcina as adults. All four lords were mutated and manipulated, cut off from any chance at a life outside of her care.

Moreau’s intense mutation led Miranda to be the only one he could possibly rely on, as the other lords thought him too repulsive. He has the emotional intelligence of a child, weeping often and wanting only for his mother to be proud of him due to how Miranda had isolated him from everyone with his mutation, reminiscent of a mother who refuses to let her child leave the nest and shelters them too heavily from the world to create an unhealthy reliance. Moreau has no self confidence and little social skills, and because of his monstrous appearance, he can’t go anywhere else.

Donna’s parents committed suicide when she was young, exacerbating her own mental health issues, and this left her already struggling to make connections with anyone. She did, however, have a confidant in her family gardener, who looked after her like a father might. When Miranda mutated her, she gave her the motherly love she lacked and gave her more confidence. With this gift, Donna became reliant on Miranda as her mother, unaware that she only ever intended on using her as part of her research. Donna’s loyalty was ensured in this way, and because she already felt isolated from the rest of the world, Miranda made certain she wouldn’t ever leave her.

Alcina was taken as a fully grown adult- she had a life outside the village, unlike the other Lords. We know this because of the jazz album Ethan has in his home. It’s seemingly inconsequential, but it implies a rich and full life before Miranda. Obviously wealthy due to her Dimitrescu lineage and her music career success, she was set up in style, and no doubt had an active life as a socialite. All of this was taken away when Mother Miranda lured her into the Dimitrescu Castle and mutated her. Obviously unable to rejoin normal society with her new need to drink blood and her intense height, Alcina HAD to rely on Miranda from there on out. Miranda was not her mother, and her parents had died only recently when she was a grown woman, but she had no choice but to stay with her. She clearly made the most out of her life, but often expressed anger over having to play family with the other lords, who were much younger than her. She reads as a put upon eldest daughter by a mother who expects too much- simultaneously expected to be a second parent and treated like a child.

Alcina also continued the cycle of abuse when she frequently lashed out at Heisenberg. It was likely due to resentment over a multitude of things, such as his lack of apparent mutations, being made to play family with him, and being made to go along with him on any plans despite being likely decades older and the only control in her life being her duties as a lord. This also leads back to the Golden Child and the Scapegoat- Heisenberg was a wildcard and a rowdy child who often lashed out, and Alcina was the perfect eldest daughter who did everything for the family even if she didn’t like it. Miranda purposefully created a rift between them with this dynamic, making Heisenberg infuriated by having to show deference to Lady Dimitrescu, and Lady Dimitrescu feeling belittled by having to play equal with Heisenberg.

It isn’t known exactly what Karl’s family situation was prior to Miranda, but we do know that he was kidnapped. Whether he was kidnapped as a child or an adult, he knows he was kidnapped, he knows Miranda’s entire family is fake, and he knows that he hates her. Interestingly, Heisenberg is in a unique position- he doesn’t need Miranda. His mutation is only internal, and just by looking at him you wouldn’t notice he was any different from any non mutated human being. He hates Miranda and doesn’t rely on her emotionally. The only thing stopping him from leaving is Miranda’s physical prowess, and we see him actively trying to circumvent this and escape.

Unfortunately, Heisenberg’s downfall is that he continues the cycle of abuse when he tries to use Rose as a weapon against Miranda instead of trying to protect her, doing the same thing to her that Miranda did to him. He was a weapon, one of her guardsmen, and so it was only logical to him that Rose should be the same, because it was all he knew.

Ethan is ultimately the one to break the cycle. Coming from the outside of this world, or from a different family dynamic, he clearly knows what a loving and functioning family is supposed to look like. He’s appalled by how the family he goes against works- he watches them hurt each other and tear themselves apart both physically and emotionally, and walk it off like it never even happened. Even Zoe’s behavior shocks him. Despite being the most normal of them, she’s fully desensitized to the horror of it all, and laughs when he’s frightened by her family. She doesn’t realize she’s trapped in the cycle too until she’s finally freed from it in End of Zoe, when Joe shows her the first bit of familial love she’s seen in three years. Mia is still trapped in this cycle and nearly pulls him into it with her mistakes (in the literal sense, yes, Mia being forced into playing mom for a bunch of moldy strangers doesn’t seem like her being trapped in a cycle of abuse, but consider it from the perspective of meeting your wife’s family only to wonder why she still talks to any of these people), but he manages to pull her out. The two are still shown to struggle with her secrecy and her avoidance (especially because she didn’t tell him he was dead, and he didn’t realize her hostility was Miranda’s acting), but it’s clear Mia is better off than when she was stuck with the Bakers.

This carries into their daughter- she’s only an infant, but they already want the world for her. Ethan risks everything just to rescue her from people he would likely never dream of facing otherwise. He suffers terrible pain at the hands of the “family” he married into just to save Rose from them, and ends the cycle completely when he rejects Heisenberg’s plan and kills Miranda himself. He sacrifices himself so that Rose doesn’t have to ever be caught in that cycle. It doesn’t matter to him that she has powers, or that he isn’t alive and she came back from the dead, or that his family is absolutely nothing like what he thought it would be. What matters is he loves her, he loves Mia, and he’d love them no matter what. It’s even his love for Rose that inspires her to deny the cycle another start and accept herself as she is in Shadow of Rose. Even if he didn’t raise her himself, he made sure she was with someone who would protect her, and he ended the cycle of abuse started by Mother Miranda before it could ever touch her.

[hellshire-harlot]

I swear to god the Resident Evil fandom has like. Five jokes total. And we won’t shut up about them.

Jill Sandwich (classic but very overdone)

Seven Minutes (I’m so sick of this line fr)

Chris punching a boulder (we’re right to meme on that honestly)

Lady Dimitrescu (Most of those jokes are pretty gross actually)

Where’s Everyone Going? (Bingo?)

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 34:  In Which The Harbinger Brings More Questions Than Answers

!::TW::! this chapter contains mention of a gun, not use of it, but mention. just fyi.

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

You were missing Alcina fiercely.

It was going on day five of not seeing her and you were, as usual, restless. It didn't always feel this way when she was gone, but the long absences always had you on the edge of your seat; the anxiety and unwanted worry of something being wrong was always poking your mind. You didn't really doubt that most things that involved the underworld and whatever happenings went on there very likely included shit of the dangerous nature, so, you could only give your brain and intuition props for somehow feeling it. Even though it bugged. 

You remembered all too well what Alcina's body had looked like after the more than week-long absence from you. What the fuck she fought with you still don't know, doubted you ever would, so what other information did your mind have to work off of to try and blindly put puzzle pieces together. Yes, you told yourself time and time again she could take care of herself. But. What if one day she couldn't? What would happen if she just stopped coming to see you altogether? Would Angie at least come tell you what happened? Would you just be left to wonder what happened to the woman you loved more than anything for the rest of your days, never to have an absolution? 

And then, there was the matter of that dream you'd had a few nights back. It still sprinkled shivers down your spine. Alcina, tall, gaunt, covered in blood, baring her teeth and telling you she'd kill you too; she was a monster after all. 

A big sighed took pity on you and helped pull you from your funk.

The office was pretty quite today luckily but you were itching to get out of there. Another bit of luck ended with an all-hands meeting for your department cutting short after one of the big-wigs stopped halfway through a sentence, put his palm to the side of his head, complained of a searing pain, and left with a migraine. You don't really remembered what he was drawling on about either, you were focused solely on how much you couldn't stand to listen to him talk and how badly you wanted him to shut the fuck up, therefore you couldn't help but chuckle when he was forced to. No one liked that asshole anyway and everyone was relieved to get cut loose sooner than later. 

Finally the 4 o'clock hour rolled around and you excused yourself early for the weekend, internally wishing you would see Alcina tonight, or at least briefly this weekend. God you missed her.

Today was a calmer, less than frigid bitching bitter cold day. The sun was out and gave everything a little lick of its warmth before disappearing behind the glass and steel columns of the cityscape.

And, there again, was that feeling that something wasn't right.

"Malka!"

Caught your attention from above.

"Malka! Malka!"

Here came one of your crow friends, Ebony by the looks of it, swooping around and by you, finally perching on a fence next to you.

Was it saying Malka?

"Awk, awk - Malka - Malka!"

There was no way in hell this bird was shouting 'Malka'.

It began to hop and flutter its wings, dashing to and froe on the sturdy rock ledge, eying you, bobbing its head, cawing and without a doubt saying Malka's name.

"No," you muttered as Ebony took flight into the air, swinging around you to land once more on the fence, "Malka?" you repeated back trying to understand the whole of this.

Ebony cawed long and hard and finally took flight towards that end of the street where Malka's shop resided.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," was all you managed before you took off after the bird.

The unnerving feeling from before became stronger and stronger as you were approaching the shop, and your mind immediately let your intuition take charge and instead of running around front, you took a sharp turn into the tiny alley behind it and to the back entrance. You keyed in the passcode to the number lock and let yourself in as fast and silently as possible. 

Nothing looked out of the ordinary in the storage room, but suddenly a shout echoed its way through to you. It was a mans voice, no doubt, and carefully you slinked your way from the back to Malka's station behind the counter.

From the doorway and tinted glass, you could see three teenagers on the other side of the counter from Malka; two had knives, one, had a gun.

The utter rage and protective instinct inside of you seemed to emerge from your very veins like a hatchling of a million spiders - you were crawling with energy you couldn't control, everything darkened around you, all you could see was a gun in Malka's face and the three cretins of chaos in front of her.

Fire was not how you would describe this feeling, perhaps the sensation of frost bite would be more accurate of the sensation on your face and in your fingertips. It was as hot as it was freezing cold. It was spreading, covering you from head to toe.

You had lost all control over your body as you began to step from around the barrier, your eyes locked on the teenagers in a blink-less stare.

Each one of them suddenly became impaired, fighting from doubling over, dropping their weapons as they grabbed for their heads and groaned, pained yelps now filling the space that had otherwise been void of all noise at all around you.

By the time you'd stopped not 5 feet from behind Malka, they were screaming and haphazardly trying to run out of the store, knocking several shelves and cases over as they did. 

Malka dropped her arms and turned to find you there still as a statue, face void and eyes paralyzed from any movement or emotion.

"Oh dear... ketzeleh," she sighed, reaching for your arms, tugging at you, "honey, look at me - focus - come back, come back slowly."

You were completely frozen in time, like you were dumbstruck from sleep and barely able to respond to what was happening. You could see Malka, though she was fuzzy, and you could hear her, though it sounded as if you were under water. But when she grasped your hands there was a cool sensation that now washed down your system that seemed to brush off the remaining faded reality you'd been caught in.

"M-Malka," you sputtered, blinking your vision clear, "a... are you alright?"

She nodded knowingly and wrapped your hands up tighter, "yes, yes, come now, sit."

"W-wait, wait, we need to call the cops! We need to get those little fuckers reported!"

The bitterness of the night had now settled in as the two of you spoke to the police. Malka, the quick thinker she was, told them your surprise visit had scared them off, causing them to drop their weapons and run. Even the cops didn't seem to buy it, but trying to explain whatever the fuck had really gone down didn't seem feasible.

As you were pulling your coat around you just a bit tighter, you noticed your family of crows now perched in the tree adjacent the shop. All warm, beady little eyes watching the whole situation. You couldn't help but nod at them gratefully. Had Ebony not come, you'd hoped the worst that would have happened was Malka getting robbed. Another shudder ran through you.

"Alright, well, we'll get their descriptions out and we'll keep you posted," an officer said, "you two ladies get home. We'll take it from here."

Malka brushed them off with a flick of her wrist and grabbed for you, "come, tea upstairs."

You were still caught in a funk. You whole body was just vibrating. You felt calm and energized and anxious and like you were about to spin out of control all at once. It wasn't totally pleasant.

There was a hot cup of tea placed in your hands. You had nestled into the cushy forest green couch and Leo was immediately in your lap, his purrs and mews softening your overall confusion and bafflement as he began making very gentle biscuits on your thighs.

Everything was pretty much a blur. Though as time seemed to creep on it began to become slightly clearer. You remember much more now the physical sensations that ran through you; the burning, the overwhelm, the paralysis, the rage, the need to protect. You remember how something inside you took over, what that something was was about as clear as the rest of it. It was almost as if Alcina herself had imbued you; the protective instincts you'd always had came flooding forth with vigor; blooming, blossoming, pluming, all encapsulating, and it took charge. It felt so similar to her love and protection that it was  like she was there, all around you, helping you, controlling you even. But that simply couldn't be. And it was too familiar to never have felt it before. None of this made any sense. Did you, whatever happened to you in that moment, did you make the attackers crumble and fall away? Run like their lives depended on it? What the literal fuck was going on?

Eventually gazing over to Malka who had perched on her own little rocking chair, you took a small sip and noticed she was watching you very, very closely.

The silence was deafening.

"I uh... don't suppose you know what happened tonight, do you?"

Her eyes glittered, "not all of it."

Not all of it.

Oh. Ok. 

The fuck did that mean???

You slumped further into the couch, "do you know something about me that I don't?" you blurted.

Malka, ever cryptic but warm and knowing, set her teacup down on the saucer and locked her eyes on you, "specifics, no, but you are special, ketzeleh. I knew from the moment I met you, you had a gift; little sparks of an olde world deep inside of you just begging to be shown the light."

There wasn't really any stopping the furrowing of your eyebrows. What the fuck did that mean?!

"Could you please stop speaking on riddles?"

She tsked, "I'm a mad, old Jewish woman, that's my job!" she jested with a grin, "what fun would it be if I spoke as dully as you minnealala's anyhow."

Malka took another sip of her tea nonchalantly and you just stared at her. This afternoon was a bit earth shattering for you and she was sitting there as if it was just another day, just another totally normal incident to have three goons hold her at gun point and the little neighbor gal come by with some sort of witchy powers and send them running off with their tails between their legs.

"Please, for the love of god Malka, what is happening to me?"

She considered your question with more sobriety and placed her teacup on the coffee table as she came to sit next to you, her face softer as she grasped your free hand, "I don't know exactly."

"You said you knew I was special, what does that mean?" you pleaded.

"Let me tell you something that I think you're ready to hear..." Malka began, her voice low yet calm, "I am a mystic, from a long line of Jewish Mysticism; the olde magick, that's what I come from. And we... we sense, we know things, among much much else. And you my dear, I felt your magick from the moment you walked through my shop door for the first time."

What.

"Magick?" you repeated, "what do you mean magick?"

"Do you remember what I said to you the other night?" she asked, waiting for your nod, "your gifts, which I do not know specifics, are finally coming through."

If you hadn't already been in a spiral, you sure as hell were now.

Magick? Gifts? Did this explain so much of the weird ass shit that had been happening to you recently?

"You know," Malka continued, "I have felt your power grow stronger through the last several months... is that when you began seeing this person?"

Your eyes, which had been fixated on the coffee table while your thoughts were going apeshit in your brain, now jerked to look at the old woman next to you and your jaw hung loose.

"How did - ?"

She chuckled, "I know things, remember? Though you all but admitted it to me the other night, I am more or less just curious."

You had to swallow your words as they felt like they were all about to fall out of your mouth, "Uhm, yes... I - I met her in the spring," you managed to say with a breath.

Malka hummed even more knowingly and stroked her thumb over the back of your knuckles, "she is the one you came to get pasta for, mm?"

"N-no, she doesn't - uh - " oh right, how the fuck were you supposed to tell her you were dating a vampire in any sane timeline, but without your permission your big mouth continued, "she doesn't eat. She cooked for me."

The rise of her brows was undeniable even though you had looked away. 

This was absolutely unreal. How was this conversation even happening? But, nothing about life had had any semblance or normality since meeting Alcina, so why should anything following her coming into your life make any more sense than that? Malka was a witch, sure ok, a Jewish one at that. You'd never heard of such a thing. But sure, why not you guess. And you, you were now apparently a witch or some other gifted magickal creature? WHAT. WAS. HAPPENING.

"I see," Malka pondered, "she is...?"

No. No, don't ask me that. Please do not ask me that. 

You plopped your cup on the cushion next to you and rubbed your face with your hand, baffled beyond words what to say, if you should say it, and why the fuck not to at this point.

"She's a vampire."

You could not believe yourself. You said it. You actually said it. Out loud!

Malka didn't even seem bothered by this, in fact her lack of response made you look at her with a begging for some reaction. She simply pursed her lips and nodded like it was a normal answer.

"Please say something," you broke the overwhelming silence with, "please?"

Her eyes focused back to you and she tilted her head, "you're frightened, aren't you?" she asked in the most genuine manner you'd ever heard.

Again you swallowed, "I'm terrified. I don't know what's happening to me."

"Ehhh, ketzeleh," she cooed, grasping your hand with both of hers, "there is no need to be frightened. I'm here, I see you, you will be alright. You will come into your own in due time, there is no need to fight it or be scared. This is who you are inside."

"I don't know what that means! I don't know what or who I am! I'm just some friggin' orphan who has been lost her whole life - I - I don't know what I'm doing."

Malka placed a comforting palm to your cheek and looked into your eyes, "you listen to ol' Malka; you know who you are. You are you every day. You grow, you learn, and you will make 'you' more 'you' as you live on. What is inside of you well help, as scary as it might be. These changes are part of you, let them guide you, let them teach you, let them mold you and you mold them. I don't know what exactly you are, my ketzeleh, but I know you are special and you cannot fight that. I will be more than happy to be with you every step of the way, though, as your bubbeh, it is my joy and honor."

You hadn't been on the verge of tears yet, but Malka's genuine words made you feel warm and safe. There was no denying something was changing inside of you, you'd felt it since you met Alcina, and maybe it wasn't so bad, even if you were more unsure about everything than you'd ever been before.

As you sat on your couch, staring blankly into the night, you combed through Malka's words from your conversation over and over. Relived the events of this evening; felt it, saw it, breathed it. What a thought to have; you were special, gifted. Whatever that meant.

Your crows had followed you home, keeping eye and watch over you as you walked much slower than normal, and you half thought that perhaps they were a perk of these 'gifts'. They saw you like Malka did. Felt your power like she did. So then, did Alcina feel it also? Was that was had drawn her to you to begin with? Did she know something about you, too, and not mentioned it?

Alcina.

Fuck, you missed her.

You leaned your head back into the couch and closed your eyes, felt the heaviness of the day blanket you and something akin to sleep began to wrap you up.

You saw her then; Alcina, in all her glory and beauty. She was seated at a desk, one side of her raven hair falling around her face, the other tucked behind an ear as she studied something on the dark red wood. A map, it seemed. She was pensive in thought. Her red lips were pursed ever so slightly as she rummaged through another stack of papers by an old, antique rotary phone, and an ash tray with a smoking cigarette. You couldn't help but smile at this vision, real or not. She was so beautiful. The blouse she wore was the creamiest color you'd ever seen, the fold of the collar sharp, the V-cut of the front was held together by buttons of pearl, giving way to just the bare minimum of cleavage and how you wished you run your hands over her shoulders and pry it apart. But then, something caught your eye; she looked tired, worn, stressed even, as she went back and forth between paper and map. Suddenly her eyes snapped up and at you, and you woke with a start.

Groggy was putting it gently. You felt absolutely drained from today. Rising gingerly you made your way to your bed and flopped down onto it, wishing you had your vampire next to you to fall into, curl up in her arms and feel the safety and love you dreadfully desired in this hazy area of wake and sleep.

[residenteviltimeline]

February 2021: Ethan makes it to the castle, but is soon caught by a man with some kind of magnetism superpowers and brought to a meeting between Mother Miranda and the four lords of the village, whose names he learns as they argue. The imposing Lady Dimitrescu, a nine foot tall vampire-like woman, has a heated debate with Karl Heisenberg, the man who captured him. Heisenberg appears physically normal, in sharp contrast to the quiet Moreau, a heavily mutated, fish-like hunchback. Donna Beneviento remains concealed behind a black mourning veil, but uses her puppet doll Angie, whom she is able to apparently psychically control, to mock Dimitrescu and Heisenberg as they bicker. All are silenced by the arrival of Mother Miranda, who eventually grants the right to kill Ethan to Heisenberg. He is given ten seconds to run before a small army of Lycans is released to chase him. Evading both the Lycans and a number of death traps Heisenberg has set in his path, Ethan somehow manages to escape, and is freed from the castle. Outside, he meets a mysterious figure who introduces himself as The Duke, a merchant who offers him weapons and supplies in exchange for a currency unique to the village, which Ethan has collected some of in the process of reaching the castle. The Duke agrees that Ethan may be able to find Rose within the castle, and he heads back inside to search for her. Soon, he is captured by the daughters of Lady Dimitrescu, all three of whom are apparently vampires with the ability to become a swarm of flies. They take him to their mother, and he is stabbed through the hands by large hooks on chains and suspended from the ceiling as his captors leave to inform Miranda that he survived Heisenberg’s death game and they have found him. In their absence, Ethan tears his hands through the hooks and escapes, later coming across The Duke, who has set up shop in a room in the castle. Ethan treats his wounds with a bottle of “first aid liquid” from The Duke, and for some reason doesn’t question how this non-descript juice is able to completely heal the massive gashes in his hands. I love this dense Mold boi so much. The Duke suggests that Dimitrescu will be keeping Rose in her private chambers, if she is indeed in the castle. Ethan resolves to make his way there and rescue her. Along the way, he must contend with the daughters of Dimitrescu and a number of zombie-like creatures resulting from the many murders the four women have committed within the castle. Eventually, he is cornered by one of the daughters, and in the ensuing fight shoots open a window. The cold air weakens her, allowing Ethan to inflict meaningful damage and eventually kill her, at which point her body calcifies. When he finds Dimitrescu’s personal quarters, he overhears her on the phone with Mother Miranda, and sneaks in after she leaves. However, she returns soon after, and despite Miranda’s orders to leave him alive, she has resolved to kill him, having found her daughter’s body and deciding upon retribution. She smashes Ethan through the floor, and he falls into the dungeons below the castle. As he attempts to escape, he is once again confronted by Dimitrescu, who severs his hand with razor-sharp claws it appears she is able to grow at will. Managing to evade her, Ethan finds a way out of the dungeons and reattaches his hand using the same first aid liquid from before. Again, he doesn’t question why this works. God, I love this dumbass. As he searches for a way out of the castle, which he is now trapped in, he encounters another of Dimitrescu’s daughters, and manages to kill her by breaking a wall with an improvised pipe bomb to let the cold air in. 

[blood-and-poetry]

SO in love with this photo of Helena Mankowska (Alcinas face model)

[tu-sugar-mami]

The things that could have been (1/3)

You can read part 2 here

Tags: fluff, tooth rotting fluff and so much love, They're married but they don't know it

Warnings: angst, not happy ending and Donna is going to suffer, don't read I just wrote this out of lack of sleep

3,762 words

As always Tumblr mobile won't let me cut this

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There was a time where you promised yourself you wouldn't fall for anyone again. Teaching yourself to not be weak against the human desire to find the other half of the soul, for many years you lived prived of any temptations and pushing away anyone who got too close to you. However, despite all your efforts at protecting yourself from the sharp shattered pieces of a failed love, the thick walls around your guarded heart crumbled when you met a certain lady.

Donna Benevento, the matriarch of the only manor at the top of the hill and one of the four Lords ruling over the land. Donna, sweet Donna, was the one whose tender care and delicious food managed to snatch away the vines that you had forced on your heart, and deep inside you knew that it had to be her. No one but Donna.

It all started on an afternoon just like any other. Returning from the forest with a load of freshly chopped wood strapped to your back and your mind wondering what you would have for dinner, you noticed a tall figure waiting outside of your shop. It didn't take you long to discover the only Lord that liked to stroll freely on the village leaning on the doorstep. A mischievous grin graced his lips, and his head tilted playfully to the side before he greeted you, with a hand -a little too harshly- landing on your shoulder.

From his jacket, Lord Heisenberg drew a slightly crumpled envelope and handed it to you. The hand on your shoulder refrained you from taking a step back, instead the grip becoming slightly stronger and forcing you to take the paper with trembling hands, not that you could refuse it anyway, doing so would be a death sentence. When the Lord walked away without any word of explanation, the smirk never leaving his features, you felt the air finally returning to your lungs and your hands stopped shaking. The Lords always meant trouble.

As frightening as the encounter was, you thought later that day, it was even more suspicious that Lord Heisenberg himself would do the delivery instead of sending a courier, but yet again, do any of them really need a reason to do the things they do? Not that is your business anyway.

The wax seal on the envelope was one that you recognized only after rummaging through the mess in your mind, finally managing to identify it as the House Beneviento crest. Humming in thought, you recalled that said Lord didn't have that much presence -aside from rumors- in the village as the other three, probably the reason you struggled to remember that the crest belonged to her. 

Hands worked quickly to release the seal and examine the light brown envelope contents. To your surprise, it was a letter requesting your woodworking services, saying a new customized desk was needed in the manor, and urged you to visit the estate to start with the project as soon as possible. There was no one more qualified to do the job than you, you knew, not after some rather unfortunate events regarding the displeasure of one Lady Dimitrescu left you and your apprentice as the only carpenters left in the village, so in a way you had this coming.

Resigned to your fate, you found yourself the next day with a journal, pen and measurement tools in your satchel ready to venture up the dangerous path in the forest, the thought of escaping the village altogether becoming more tempting by the second.

Of course you had heard many stories, mostly rumors, about the lonely woman living in the house next to the waterfall, and to be honest, who hadn't? The village was so small that gossip spread like wildfire and not even the subject being a Lord could deter the villagers' loose mouths.

During the trip your stomach kept churning due to your nerves, and your mind spiraled in a current of displeasing thoughts. Would you run the same ending as your late comrades if the Lord didn't like your work? At least, you reassured yourself, your apprentice was a quick learner and the young boy had talent, were anything to happen you knew the village would at least have him.

The journey was long and tiresome, but gave you plenty of time to think. What was Lady Beneviento like? It was dangerous to follow the train of thought when most of the stops ended in bad scenarios for you, but you couldn't stop from wondering. There's one thing you were sure about though, whatever happened, you'd be courteous and respectful, but wouldn't stoop to the level of fanatism as the other villagers. The way they fought each other to compliment and pray to Mother Miranda whenever she happened to pass by always disgusted you. 

After the bumpy ride on the moving metal box (what a magical thing, convenient but frightening nonetheless, you thanked the dark god that it wasn't hard to figure out how to use it) you stopped for a moment, both to regain your composure and gather enough courage to hype yourself up, though when you finally looked up and your eyes stumbled upon the towering estate –a beautiful, if slightly unattended, old manor that looked embedded into the mountain itself– your first steps on the porch became hesitant; no one could assure you that you wouldn't fall victim to the horrors that awaited in house Beneviento. Maybe it was because of the accumulated anxiety, but you swore the knocking on the door sounded thunderous, even with the roaring waterfall just next to the cliff to muffle it. 

The Lady, it turned out, was unlike any of the things you heard about her.

There wasn't any overwhelming fear taking over your body just by being in her presence, no feeling of your sanity slipping away from your mind, and you weren't sensing that imminent danger feeling while she led you through her home. Were you a bit wary? Yes, a little afraid even, but who wouldn't be knowing that the woman in front of you was one of the village rulers. Whether she looked the part or not, the Lady had power, and the thought of her using said power on you made you jumpy, hence the hesitation in your stride.

She was… strange, but as far as you could tell she wasn't blinded by bloodlust like Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters were, and she didn't inspire that fear that ushered you to bow to her either. In fact, Lady Beneviento was kind of… awkward?, but not in a bad way, no. Her movements were stiff, and you weren't sure if she was scared of scaring you, or she just wasn't used to dealing with another person's presence. 

You noted her nervousness for sure, if her constantly fidgeting fingers, fists clenching the fabric of her skirt, and uncomfortably straight posture were any indication. 

You had yet to hear her voice, but Angie, her doll who almost gave you a heart attack when she received you at the door, was doing an excellent job at keeping the conversation flowing. The doll even noticed your amazement towards the lamps and was kind enough to show you the wonders of modern day technology , introducing you to the concept of something called 'electricity'.

Listening to Angie talking nonstop made you wonder if the Lady felt lonely, with no one but herself and her dolls to keep her company all the way up there. Then again, there wasn't really anyone with enough courage to try and talk to a Lord, much less having a death wish to try and dare being friendly with one of them, more so with the wild rumors going from mouth to mouth in the village. It must have been hard for her, not to be able to form a friendship with those she was obligated to rule over, the same people who talked about her behind her back. Perhaps that was why her movements were that way, because -and you briefly wondered if she would have your head for wrongly assuming- she was afraid of frightening away someone that has spoken to her and Angie somewhat normally after such a long time. The mere thought brought a heavy weight on your heart, but alas, who were you to voice your unwelcome concerns to her? 

You made it an hour into the house without being driven insane and, blissfully unaware of the chain of events that would follow, you found yourself in the living room sharing your takes on the new desk design with Angie and making adjustments with subtle nods of approval from Lady Beneviento, all while munching on the cookies that said Lady was kind enough to offer you along with some tea; a tea that had been delightful with the perfect amount of sugar for your tastes, before a misstep of Angie got the cup to spill on your chest. The liquid wasn't all that hot by the time the incident happened but you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a disappointed whine, both for staining the only somewhat presentable shirt you owned and for wasting a perfectly good drink. The Lady spur into action, ready to dab the excess liquid with a handkerchief but stopping a few inches from actually touching you when she realized exactly where the tea had splashed onto.

Of course your button up had to be white, and she, a poor sapphic woman, was only barely human. Her eye stopped against her will on your now very visible cleavage, and her face quickly painted a dark crimson before she tried to stare straight (straight, she tells herself) at your beautiful eyes instead.

Unable to find her own, your gaze roamed over the black fabric of her veil for what felt like an eternity, none of you moving, none of you daring to say anything and the atmosphere becoming awkward by the second. Just as you tried to cough to ease the tension, Angie yelled something and the Lady, startled and with a yelp of her own, shoved her fist still with the handkerchief hard against your chest (with a strength you wouldn't address to someone like her, but again looks can be deceiving) effectively punching the air out of you and at the same time pushing you backwards along with the chair.

Of course you did your best to wheeze laugh it off from the ground. It was just a silly incident, right? The quickly forming bruise on your chest didn't bother you that much anyway.

Lady Beneviento was grateful you couldn't see her embarrassed grimace. Angie was delighted and amused.

You ended that day with a new pale purple satin shirt that hugged your frame suspiciously well. In Angie's words; an apology present for ruining your clothes and possibly injuring your ribs.

Though to a villager struggling to survive the day without the convenience of electrical home heating -just like any other- a fabric as fine as the satin you were gifted was outrageous to even dream to own, and you felt the necessity to give something in return. Of course you didn't have riches or anything remotely similar to the value of the shirt, but you had skills and plenty of time. So, for a carpenter, what better to give than something crafted by your own hand? 

Back at the Beneviento estate you had noticed the vast amount of books that packed the shelves. The lady did strike you as someone intelligent, someone that enjoyed an afternoon tea with a good book. You had noticed the worn couch next to the window on the corner, that gave you an idea…

The next day, just after discussing the materials and sizes for the new furniture, you hesitantly asked for the Lady's palm. You were sure it was an imposition, but surprisingly she agreed and held her hand out for you, expectantly. You placed a small wooden box adorned with a simple dark green bow on her hand and waited.

The gasp that followed was so soft that you could have missed it if your anxiety didn't keep your senses on edge. 

Inside the box there was a flat bouquet of flowers with the Beneviento name engraved in golden paint on the bottom, sturdy but no bigger than the half of her hand. The design was beautifully intricate, and the Lady could recognize it as the flower that grew wildly in her garden. The same flower whose pollen she could use to induce her hallucinations. When did you have time to do that? She was positive that the day before was the first time you saw them. That could only mean that you spent the rest of your evening and probably a good part of the early morning finishing it.

The realization hit her as her fingers traced over the carved patterns.

It was a bookmark.

No one, besides perhaps Alcina and on rare occasion Mother Miranda, had been so considerate as to gift her such a valuable present. This particular one though, valuable not for the materials it was made of, but because of the meaning, the intent it posed. Gratefulness.

The bookmark was very thoughtful of you, and a delicate dew blurred her sight for a second. If only Donna had been brave enough, she would have thanked you herself that very second, though it was Angie who voiced her gratitude…

If after that day you found yourself slacking on the assignment and instead spending more time with the Lady, well, could anyone really blame you when Lady Beneviento was so nice to spend time with? It didn't matter to you that taking more than two weeks on a single piece spoke badly of your work professionalism, not when the company was delightful and the ridiculously yummy food made up for the strange look on the villagers faces.

As for Donna, she had what she had been prived of for years. A true friend. 

Donna found someone who finally understood her. Wouldn't the garden look better with some more color? Yes! Donna was thinking the same for ages. Could that main character in the book have avoided all that trouble if they had done this or that? Absolutely! Donna was sure all the drama could have been spared but she recognized it was for the sake of the plot. Didn't the food need something else, a bit more flavor perhaps? Of course! Donna was delighted to learn you enjoyed well seasoned food, not to brag but that was her specialty due to her Italian heritage. Things she mostly disagreed with her siblings or even Angie, you understood and took her side, not because you had to, but because you had said so before she even said anything. Not that she had to say anything, in such little time you had been so observant that you could read the lady like an open book despite her lack of speech.

Though, if you were honest, you adored when she spoke out loud her thoughts.

The Lady's voice was always delightful to listen to. The softness of it when she first talked to you and offered you to spend the night made a tinge of electricity trail from your neck to your lower back. You learned to love that strong tint it had when she got excited and accidentally switched to her first tongue. And you absolutely adored how husky her voice sounded after hours of reading out loud and commenting on a specially good book.

As the weeks went by, even Angie had grown fond of the perky and sometimes strange carpenter. The doll loved how hard you could make Donna laugh, and not just the quiet and almost disheartened laughter she was used to, no, the kind that made Donna's belly hurt and face go red. The first time it happened had been when, kneading some dough on the kitchen counter, you made and absentminded comment on how slap-able the village baker's bald spot on his head was and it took both the Lady and Angie by surprise to have the former howling in laughter in that house for the first time since before Miranda even came to the village.

Angie wouldn't admit it out loud but she was happy you stumbled upon them. She hadn't felt her Don-Don smile that much in ages, let alone have someone Donna felt comfortable enough to use her own voice with. It was… nice, to have the house alive with afternoon chats over tea or lessons on Italian cooking. It felt like an actual home once again.

It took you another two weeks to finish the first intended piece. A desk that by all means was beautiful: Sturdy, wide, embellished with carved details and some silver accents made with the help of the local blacksmith.

The day of the final touches was odd. Maybe it was your imagination but it seemed the Lady was talking about anything and everything but the desk, just like yourself. You knew what it meant to have it finally finished: No more excuses to visit, no more afternoon teas, no more discussing the latest chapter of the book you picked for the day, no more movies in the Lady's projection room, no more reasons to see each other…

It was with a pouch full of lei and a heavy cloud over you, that you found yourself at the doorstep, preparing to leave for good and stop seeing who had been your salvation from the cold and gloomy days in the village. 

Donna could tell that it was as hard for you as it was for her to part ways, and a shimmer of hope glistened in her eye as you slightly leaned forward with a sad smile on your lips and your arms starting to make space for her. She was full on intending to take your offer for the incoming hug -something she would never allow if it were to be anyone other than you-, but as quickly as the motion came something flickered in your face. Something that she, regrettably, knew very well. 

Fear .

After all, Donna was Lord…

The reminder that this gentle woman could destroy you with a snap of her fingers (that first time you visited and she effortlessly sent you and the chair tumbling to the floor was proof) if she so wished shot through your mind like a lightning bolt, and forced your arms to slack down at your sides. 

Lady Beneviento was one of the four Lords ruling over the land. Of course it wouldn't be okay for you to hug her, or treat her as an equal, at that. She was way above you and you needed to show respect… or that was what your mother's words had taught you since you were a kid. To be honest, it was easy to lose track of that authority she held when all you had seen from the Lady was her kind side. You were taught very well too, to not mistake kindness for weakness or mercy and you knew better. Everyone in the village knew better. Wanting to hug her before your departure only showed you had gotten way too comfortable in the wolf's den.

 

It was well known that the Lords and Mother Miranda herself weren't exactly human. They had been overseeing the village since probably before you were born, but every passing year they all looked the same. Whether it was immortality by divinity or a demonic pact you didn't know and sure as hell wouldn't go about asking. Alas, the four were a force to be reckoned with in their own unique ways, but Lady Beneviento had always been a mystery even for the most experimented, older villagers. As always, people tended to fear the unknown.

 

And yeah, Lady Beneviento didn't shred you or drive you mad in the time you spent in her estate, but that didn't mean you should test your luck and overstep her boundaries.

 

With a formal curtsy, like you were taught to do since very young, you thanked her for the opportunity she gave you and closed the door, unknowingly leaving behind a Lady with a heavy heart.

 

Your sadness didn't last long though, for a few days after, when you returned from an especially harsh battle with the weather inclemencies in the forest, you found yet another letter with a familiar sigil waiting for you at the hands of the same metal Lord. 

 

You didn't know, but it was thanks to a little birdie named Angie nagging the living cadou out of Donna that the Lady gave in to her doll's demands to make Karl call you once again. Those last days had felt so dull without you, and even when she denied it, your constant visits had become an important part of her day to the point where she would eagerly wait for your arrival with a fresh tray of baked goods and a new idea to spend the afternoon. She hoped you agreed to return.

 

Back at your cabin, the envelope was held in your fingers, your eyes scanned over a text similar to the last one, and you sighed. Those days by yourself had opened your eyes to something that, with the right company, was very easy to forget. It was only a month and half spent at the Beneviento manor, but it was clear that it had been enough to spark something in you. An unwelcome feeling had started to blossom within you and you felt… scared. If you went back you'd grow even more accustomed to the Lady's presence, you'd get more and more comfortable with her, and that was dangerous. The time you spent with the Lady had been, for the lack of a better word, marvelous. You knew you were enjoying yourself too much, and that comfortableness was something you needed to stay away from, but at the same time, that warmth was addictive and it lured you like a moth to a flame.

 

You already received distasteful stares and occasional comments from the villagers, if you were summoned again by the lady… Well, you didn't want people to think you were being all buddy-buddy with one of the Lords. It wouldn't end well, you believed, or maybe that inner voice was just you trying to find excuses.

 

After finishing your long gone cold coffee, you let out a long, tired sigh and went to find the tools to put in your satchel.

[thevillagegay]

Wishing Out Loud - Chapter 2

Summary: (bitch)Miranda makes an appearance, everyone is pissed, and a plan may be forming.

Notes: SO NEW PLAN! I've gotten a few things on here and tumblr about making alcina a ghost and that just tickled my brain so I'm gonna write that one too. This, however, shall be different fic because I like two different ideas so I'll make a separate fic with ghost!cina for y'all. This was gonna be longer but I need to post something. Go yell at me in the comments because it only gets worse:)

Tags: mentioned character death, miranda because she deserves her own warning in this fic, no gore/violence in this one

In the midst of their grief, everyone still noticed that it took Mother Miranda 2 days to show up to the castle. She claimed that she had other matters to attend to, but the obvious glint of a lie in her eyes shone brightly to everyone present. They all knew she didn’t really care, as much as they wanted her too. They knew she could have stopped the man, knew she probably could have helped Alcina. But she wouldn’t. 

The false deity would leave everyone to wallow in the loss and reap what they sowed. She forced her way through the group to the newly widowed woman, asking her with a sickly politeness in her voice to join her on a stroll.

Almost as soon as they closed the door to the parlor outside her room, Mother Miranda switched as though someone had pushed a button. While she still kept that look and voice, the air had turned positively sinister. The way that she carried herself made her look like someone who had finally won, relishing in the victory and triumph over her enemy. 

Miranda's smug demeanor disappeared when she finally caught a glimpse of the downright murderous glare that the newly widowed woman sent her way. 

"Why the hell didn't you come help her? Why did you let her die." said the angry woman. Her once downtrodden eyes now alight with hate. 

Miranda’s face turned to one of mock-confusion, “I have no possible idea of what you mean. You must be delirious in your grief, we should run some tests.” If it wasn’t already obvious, her eyes betrayed her sinister thoughts, as usual. 

“There’ll be no need for any tests , Mother Miranda,” the younger woman said while staring daggers into the woman's eyes, “I’m sure I just need a few days.” A few days to deal with you, that is.

Had the false prophet been able to read what was going on in the woman's head, she would have struck her down on the spot, had she not needed her for further experimentation. It seemed the only thing that the winged bitch cared about was getting her long dead child back, no matter how many other children and parents she harmed in the process.

“Well, I’ll be taking my leave then. More work has to be done before our next meeting. Do be sure to take care of yourself, child .” Her signature sneer graced her features with the last word, golden clawed hands stretching out in a flourish. Her features twisted further the second she turned to leave the castle

The lords and company were startled by the door being pulled shut to the room, Heisenberg standing up confused as everyone else’s heads darted to the woman in the doorway. 

The distressed woman started rambling the moment the door was closed, her hands coming to her hair, “We need to get rid of her, she’s going to hurt us she’s going to do something she’s got something planned she’s dangerous sh-” 

The woman was cut off by the loud shout from the scruffy man, her hands being grabbed away from her head lest she rip half of it out. Her daughters stumbled from the unmade bed to their mothers side, each getting out of the way for Donna and Moreau behind them. The two maids that had brought food would have left, had the door not been blocked by the family. Instead, they kept to the side as they asked the woman what she meant.

“Calm down, calm down please. What do you mean she’s planning something, what is Miranda going to do.” Donna took her hands from Karl as she replaced his spot, veil long forgotten and voice coming out in a hoarse whisper as she tried to calm the frantic woman. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know but we need to do something . She’ll kill us all. You, me, karl, sal, the girls, hell even the lycans. She’s going to do something either before or at the next meeting and it can’t be good.” Salvatore’s eyes widened at the last bit, having received a schedule from Miranda about meeting times since it was more difficult for him to leave his domain. 

His garbled voice had no help from his anxious state as he breathed out, “The next meeting is in 3 days.” His voice shaking even more than it had previously at the realization that they now had a limit to the days they would have together. 

Cassandra seemed to have lost sense for a moment, as she immediately tried to push her way out the door before Karl and Daniela tried to stop her, each grabbing an arm before she could turn the handle. 

“We need to know what she’s going to do before we run off and try to kill her, she could have traps set out for all of us. She knows what hurts us and how our abilities work so we have to be extremely careful. Emphasis on careful.” Karl hastily said before the middle bug child succeeded in her escape attempt. 

Cassandra stopped pushing herself towards the door, practically falling into Bela’s arms behind her. Her eyes still shone with anger, tears threatening her eyes as her face twisted even more.

A voice reached the family from near the fireplace, “Excuse me, but I believe we may be of some assistance.” Almost every head turned in confusion as the older of the two maids that had been forgotten about stepped forward, head turned up to look between the remaining lords.

[valleynix]

What do the maids think of reader?

...they're not the biggest fan of them LMAO

actually, most of them are pretty indifferent to the little mutated bird; they don't really care one way or another, but they do recognize their status with the Dimitrescus, so they try to respect that as much as they can

a lot of them actually prefer Reader over the Dimitrescus because they've been shown to be a lot calmer and more "human", and while they're prone to spiraling into their own head, they're still a lot nicer to be around at times 😭 there's really no threat of death or dismemberment for making a mistake, since we have seen Reader even come to their defense at times

that being said... there are quite a few that are now very unhappy with Reader's presence. more specifically, i'm talking about the ones Bela or Dani had slept around with and received bonus lei or weekends off from, and who now don't receive those things because both have their eyes/hearts on Reader

it's typically just the younger ones that would have an issue with Reader, though. the older maids who've been there a while and know the Dimitrescus don't really see them as anything more than another family member to take care of, while the younger ones are jealous of their relationships (because it could mean protection, more money, more days off, etc.) and having to clean up after the little idiot

(no one would dare try to harm them, though, no matter their feelings. it's quite obvious Cassandra is their little (tall and strong) guard dog and has made it very clear they're off-limits, unless someone wants to lose a limb for acting on their upset feelings. satisfying their jealousy/anger is not worth the risk of being harmed by a Dimitrescu)

[thyhauntedmansion]

So uhhh looking at this promo now.. with the knowledge we have?

She sure does like… collecting screaming sculptures. Yeah.. Yeah that. I love when women have hobbies🧍‍♀️

here's thank you to all the streamers that played the game so far!! and a thank you to everyone who joined the stream ❤️

[thetorturedmusesdept]

Was that [EVA GREEN]? Oh no no, that was just [ALCINA DIMITRESCU], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [RESIDENT EVIL]. They are [ONE HUNDRED AND TEN, BUT APPEARS FORTY-FOUR] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

FULL NAME: Alcina Dimitrescu AGE: 110 but appear 44 SPECIES: Mutant FANDOM: Resident Evil Village GENDER IDENTITY: Cis female; she/her SEXUALITY:  Homosexual NATIONALITY: Romanian ETHNICITY: Caucasian HOW LONG HAS YOUR CHARACTER BEEN HERE?: Two Weeks JOB: Wealthy Aristocrat WHERE HAS YOUR CHARACTER BEEN PULLED FROM IN THEIR FANDOM?: (TW: death, murder) After her part in the game, so she’s technically been brought back to life just like her daughters. HAS ANY MAGIC AFFECTED YOUR CHARACTER?: No, she remembers everything.

FACE CLAIM: Eva Green SPECIAL / RECOGNIZABLE FEATURES: Dark hair and light blue eyes. HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Blue ACCENT: Romanian

SIBLING(S): None PARTNER(S): None atm. CHILDREN: Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela (adopted) PARENT(S): The Noble Heads of the Dimitrescu House

- blah - blah - blah - blah - blah - blah - blah - blah

platonic connections: Alcina is not good at making friends because she feels so superior to most people, to be honest. That being said if you have a fellow Big Bad or Evil charrie maybe they might get along! more platonic connections: Any of the other Lords, especially Heisenberg. Mother Miranda of course. vampires: Fellow drinkers of human blood, hello! Maybe they can bond over something in common. personal assistant: She needs someone to boss around and do her cleaning and laundry and errands. At least you know she’ll pay well if you do good. hook ups/romance: Alcina really is only into women, and usually she likes them to be powerful, too. So she’s willing to keep things light, but if there’s something there then that’s cool too.

[multifandomme]

Under Her Command

Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu x Female Reader

Summary: Alcina disrupts your maiden duties to engage in a little fun.

Genre: Smut, (mommy kink, size kink, power dynamics, pet names, praise, degradation, choking, scratching, biting, fingering, spanking, face-slapping, spit kink, mention of blood), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 2.9k.

This piece is for day 16 of kinktober under the ‘size kink’ prompt.

A/N: This was the first ever fic that I wrote in 2021, this is a new and updated version of it. It still holds a special place in my heart.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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Castle Dimitrescu was your home now and the reputation of the woman who inhabited it had preceded her. No maiden ever made it out to tell the tale but for some reason, this had not deterred you. The first encounter with Lady Dimitrescu had induced tremors that had lasted for days, anxiety ridden in the knowledge that your early demise would soon find you.

But, it never did.

Instead, the exact opposite had occurred, the tall woman taking a liking to you for reasons unbeknownst. Her unyielding demeanour seemed to be falling as the days passed and amongst your duties as a maiden, you had found yourself spending copious amounts of time with her.

One evening, following a particularly stressful call with Mother Miranda, Lady Dimitrescu had summoned you to her bedroom and greeted you with an expression that seemed to transcend any you had seen before. It was predatory, alluring and made your heart slam within your chest. What happened next had caught you completely off guard, devouring you in an entirely different sense to the one you had predicted, the floor strewn with clothes in the aftermath. And since then, you had been inseparable, unsure as to whether it was out of fear or lust for her, assumedly a concoction of the two.

She was different when she was with you, she was simply Alcina and what’s more, she was yours.

Morning dawned and yet, the room was still entirely deficient of light. Alcina lay beside you, silent as you climbed out of bed and began your chores as expected of you. Despite the rendezvous that had led to you waking up in her bedroom every morning, you were sure to stay on top of your duties as they were the initial reason that you were kept at the castle. In the blackness of the room, you navigated with relative ease, so accustomed to the usual routine as you reached out to collect the empty bottle of Sanguis Virginis that you had predicted to be there.

The woman loved to drink and admittedly, you loved to observe her, every act that she undertook exuding pure opulence, elegance. As you rid the bottle from the bedroom, you retrieved the duster, knowing how the entire castle seemed to gather it so effortlessly, mostly due to Alcina’s daughters and the way the outside world tended to be hidden by the thick curtains that draped over the windows.

As anticipated, the curtains that descended from the bedroom windows were cloaked in dust, having not been opened for such a lengthy duration. Alcina preferred candlelight as a means to illuminate the room, opting against what was left of the natural light beyond the window. Sometimes you missed the outdoors and recalled the life that you had known before you had ventured to Castle Dimitrescu, but the thought of leaving Alcina was not one that you cared to explore.

A peculiar courage washed over you, fingers toying with the curtains before you dared to take a peek behind the fabric, a little glimpse of light sneaking into the room through the crack.

“Do you miss it?” Alcina asked, curiously, her voice piercing in from behind you, “do you miss the life that you had before you came here?”

The voice startled you at first, your heartbeat quickened as you turned to face Alcina, the newfound light catching her eyes in a way that made them sparkle like citrine. A response evaporated on your tongue, your mouth softly agape as you basked in the beauty of the woman that began to approach. Her pace was painstaking, and yet pinned you in place as you admired her, completely entranced as she moved to tower over you.

You should have been afraid, terrified even but as she leaned down to cup your face, every qualm dissipated on instant. Momentarily, your eyes found the floor, a blush forming as the woman watched you fluster beneath the most minute of touches. It had always been the same, though Alcina never seemed to tire of noting the stark vulnerability that possessed you when she gazed down at you in such a manner. She raised an eyebrow, reminding you of the unanswered question that hung in the air, a thumb brushing softly against the sanguine tinge on your cheek.

Lightly, you shook your head, an audible gulp exuding from you as you contemplated a verbal reply.

“How could I?” You questioned, meekly, “I would never want to be anywhere, but here, with you.”

Alcina smiled, her apathetic demeanour dismantling before your eyes as she softened.

“Oh, is that so?” She husked, her endearing tone causing shivers to splinter with vigour. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little maiden?”

You nodded frantically, her fingers diverting from your cheek to caress the flesh of your lips as she drank you in with insatiable hunger. The subtle smile that tugged her lips seemed to transform into a knowing smirk, her eyes falling lower to feast on your physique. If you hadn’t known her, you would have been frightened as to what would occur next, eyeing you like prey. But you had seen this expression more times than you cared to count, the ambience of the room seemingly changing around you as she flicked her tongue over her lips, wetting them.

Alcina drew in, her sights set on your lips as she moved to capture them, mesmerised as you submitted to her colossal presence. Her lips were soft, but she kissed with heated passion, the residual taste of Sanguis Virginis still detectable as you savoured her. At first, it had been quite grotesque, but as time passed you had grown accustomed to its acquired taste.

She retreated abruptly, but only as an excuse to see the glint of desperation that flecked within your eyes at the loss of contact. And then, she returned to you with more fervour than before, her pearly teeth cinching your bottom lip until a tiny amount of blood prickled at the surface.

“My darling, you are just divine.”

The act made you weak at the knees every time that she executed it, knowing that she was clutching at every iota of self-control in doing so. It was no secret that the woman could conquer you within seconds if she so wished and swallow you in the very same breath.

“Please,” you hummed, your voice small, mitigated by the obstruction of her teeth clinging onto your lip.

Alcina released it, a low chuckle emitting into the brief silence that existed. She loved to prolong the act, to make you beg even when the next events were inevitable. Ignoring your little plea, she lifted you effortlessly and threw you onto the centre of the four poster bed, your heart racing as you awaited her.

The woman smirked as she advanced, an intimidating glare fixated on you as she crawled into bed and subsequently settled on top of you. Instinctively, you craned your head from the pillow in the hopes of reconnecting your lips with hers, starved of her touch despite its short-lived absence. Alcina had a way of addicting you and you knew that it would forever be the case.

Her hand pushed you back against the bed in rebuttal of you, intent on doing things her way as usual. Lips sought your neck, her breathing uneven as she flickered over your pulsating jugular. She ran her nose atop it, almost teasing herself despite a thin sheet of skin being the only thing separating her from vanquishing you. A fate that had proven true for every maiden that had gone before you. Alcina hummed approvingly as she kissed your skin, paled hands moving to enclose firmly around your throat.

“Open your mouth,” she instructed, soberly, though you knew that she was shrouding her avid excitement beneath the exterior.

Without a hesitation, you obliged, eyes never leaving her as you did as instructed and awaited her next move. A simper tugged her lips upwards as she delighted in your complete submission, something that you would blindly provide in any situation. For some reason, it had always been impossible to deny the woman anything and you had never dreamed of displaying such defiance.

Alcina licked her lips and you regarded her with intrigue as she gathered saliva in her mouth and spat it forcefully into your own, scoffing gently as you swallowed unthinkingly.

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice lowering an octave as she watched you inflate with happiness beneath her, your cheeks burning lightly at the compliment.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, quietly as embarrassment rose within you, soon to diminish when you saw the prideful expression that Alcina donned.

She raised a quizzical brow in your direction, her hand tightening subtly around your throat until you realised the error in your response.

“Thank you, Mommy,” you corrected, a lip worried between your teeth at the possibility of a punishment from the woman who loomed over you.

“That’s better, darling,” Alcina whispered as she closed the space between you and placed her lips atop yours once more, moving with blatant impatience.

Abruptly, she retreated, claws protruding through her fingers as she sliced the garment of your nightdress open until it gaped, revealing your chest. You groaned pathetically as you felt the cool air whip up around you, goosebumps appearing upon your skin as the new temperature occurred to you.

Your arms flung out for her, neediness prevailing as you urged her to return to ghost your body with hers. Instead, the woman peeled her dress from her frame, her pale skin inviting as you became hypnotised by the visual before you. She was gorgeous, her pretty orbs sparking with desire, her nails like thorns against your bare stomach. You writhed ardently beneath her, red trails forming in the wake of her handiwork as you moaned aloud.

“Mommy, it hurts,” you cried out, though you weren’t complaining and Alcina knew this all too well.

“Oh, my darling,” Alcina chided, feigning sympathy. “Should I stop, hm?”

Violently, you shook your head, the pain that she had induced causing tingles to dart around your body. It was no surprise that your libido had been roused from its home, now at the forefront of your mind as you willed your body into the path of her claws.

“No, Mommy,” you whined as you fidgeted against the mattress. “I want more.”

Alcina beamed, her sadism glaringly obvious as she admired the impressions she had left upon your previously unblemished skin.

“I can’t say that I’m surprised, darling,” Alcina sighed lightly, her claws retracting as her previous form returned. “You always have been a good little slut haven’t you?”

Your brain seemed to short circuit for a moment, blanking out at the mere words that fell from the woman’s lips. Alcina knew just how to rile you up and always took such pleasure in doing so, able to ruin your underwear without having any significant contact. She was a master at such provocation, especially when it came to you.

“Yes, Mommy,” you conceded, breathily, your patience dwindling as you gawked at the body that stood proudly before you.

Alcina joined you in bed, her soft skin brushing yours as her breath breezed over your chest and forced your nipples to attention. She scoffed almost inaudibly as you arched your back upwards in an attempt to gain further friction against the hardened buds to no avail.

“Be patient, darling,” she chastised, her finger grazing the areola teasingly in complete avoidance of the nipple, “good girls wait to get what they want.”

“But Mommy-,” you began to protest, only to have Alcina’s hand flit across your face quickly as she delivered a harshened slap against your cheek.

Adrenaline coursed through every fibre of your being, though the shock of the act was only temporary. A masochistic smirk emerged from your lips, Alcina’s eyes boring holes as she admired the reaction she had extracted.

“Are you going to be patient, darling, or do I need to put you over my knee?”

The question lingered in the air as you inwardly pondered, both options appealing to you in any case. The arousal that had incurred from the previous blow ushered you towards the first choice, praying for alleviation sooner rather than later.

“I’ll be patient, Mommy,” you decided, revealing your verdict with conviction as you fought back the growing need to manipulate your body further into the woman’s hands.

Alcina nodded, a little smirk of victory evident in the corner of her mouth as she finally grasped at your nipple with her fingers. She teased it with vigour, expertly squeezing and tugging until it was completely rigid beneath her touch.

“Mhm, Mommy,” you mewled, unable to suppress the sounds that began to emanate from the depths of your throat.

You clung to the last semblance of self-control, your natural responses cast aside in order to abide by Alcina’s commands. The thought of disappointing her was enough to keep you from misbehaviour. Alcina simpered sickeningly as she opened her mouth and willed your nipple into its searing depths, her tongue swirling and snaking repetitively, taking full advantage of your sensitivity.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, fisting in the material until you couldn’t hold off your appetite for her anymore. Slowly, you raised your hands, your digits weaving to settle amongst Alcina’s hair and subsequently pulling it from its previously pristine arrangement. You had expected a stern rejoinder, punishment even for your actions but the woman was too focused on your nipples, her lips wet with saliva as the grazed her teeth over them roughly.

Alcina retracted suddenly, flipping you onto your stomach with ease as she ripped the shredded garment entirely from your body. The palm of her hand struck your ass a few times, her excitement uninhibited as she drowned in the moans that she had earned from you as a result.

“Does it feel good, darling?” Alcina enquired, feigning cluelessness.

“Yes, Mommy, please I want-”

You could hear the smirk making its way onto her face behind you, her fingers tugging your underwear to the side in order to expose the dripping flesh there.

“Oh, I know all that you want,” she remarked, sultrily as she felt you jolt when her digits slid through the arousal that had collected. “Are you going to be a good girl and take what Mommy gives you?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you breathed, your voice raspy from the moans that continued to escape you, obstructing your speech. “Please, I need you.”

The invasion of two slender digits caused you to thrash against the mattress, held down by a firm hand against the small of your back. Alcina’s strength was unmatched, able to immobilise with a lone finger should she will it. Staggered breaths filled the room, exuding from the both of you as Alcina picked up the pace, laughing maniacally as she saw you rutting against the mattress for more contact against your clit.

The woman’s avoidance of it was intentional, revelling in your suffering as you ground and flinched pathetically.

“That’s it,” she encouraged, her finger kinking deep inside of you, “be a good slut and take it all for Mommy.”

Her degrading words sent shockwaves around your body, pleasure edging in until it gradually began to overcome you. Alcina knew this all too well, the fast pace that she had enlisted gently ebbing out into an insufferably slow one. You frustrated against the mattress, your face squashed against the pillow as you fought the urge to scream out in exasperation.

“Aww, my poor girl,” she mocked as she re-entered you, the tormenting pace only persisting. “Beg for me and I will give you what you want, hm?”

Exhaustedly, you lifted your head, sweat prickling at your hairline as you tried to muster up a sentence in your blanked out state.

“Please, Mommy,” you sobbed, shakily. “Please, I want to cum for you.”

Alcina hummed in approval, exuding almost as a growl as she slammed her fingers into you once more, re-establishing her prior pace. Out of nowhere, she added another finger into you, the third joining the other two as you felt yourself stretch around her. It was a sensation that you craved, Alcina’s proficient skill bringing you to the edge of a long-awaited orgasm.

“Such a needy little slut,” Alcina commented, amusedly, her fingers never ceasing, not even for a second. “Do you want to cum for Mommy?”

You wriggled frantically against the mattress, your clit brushing against it with every wrecking shove of her fingers.

“Yes, Mommy,” you squealed, your orgasm fast approaching as you battled desperately to hold it off until Alcina’s permission had been granted, “please, I’m so close.”

“Cum for me, darling,” Alcina instructed, lewd sounds falling into the room from the mere arousal that the woman had incited. “Do it now.”

Desperate screams filled the expansive bedroom, silence long lost as you emptied your lungs with no heed paid towards the other inhabitants of the castle. Alcina’s digits soothed gently along your spine as she grounded you, dragging you from your high as you caught your breath.

“You were so good for me,” she praised as she rolled you over to face her, closing in to plant a chaste kiss upon your forehead.

“Thank you, Mommy,” you whispered, every semblance of energy eradicated from your body as you stilled in Alcina’s spacious bed.

Alcina smiled sincerely, her eyes fleeing away to refocus on the state of disarray that now encumbered the room.

“As much as I’d love to have you in bed all day, darling,” Alcina began, her voice renewed with equanimity, “the castle isn't going to clean itself now, is it?”

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[cillivnz]

a good host [k. heisenberg]

PAIRING — KARL HEISENBERG x DIMITRESCU!READER

TROPE — DBF! [here, mother’s friend, no really close relation] WORD COUNT — 2469

WARNINGS — NSFW. 18+. fem!reader. f!masturbation, usage of sex toys, virgin!reader, voyeurism, hefty age-gap (reader is in early 20s, Karl is in his 50s), vaginal fingering, innocence/corruption kink, cursing, pet-names (bunny, little girl, etc.), slight degradation (he calls you a whore), slightly mean!Karl, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, squirting, overstimulation, clit-play.

A/N — i just think heisenberg would be a good fuck, that’s it— that’s what motivated this. i’m slowly rising like a phoenix out of the fires of writer’s block, so, slowly but surely i’m trying to get back on track with my requests and works. though, a full comeback might take a few months. no mention of Alcides [ gender-bent Lady Dimitrescu ], didn’t want to jinx the two verses, so Alcina is Alcina.

more from my ‘resident evil: village’ world.

“FUCK,” YOU GROAN as you shut the door to your chambers behind you.

you’d excused yourself for the umpteenth time, now inconsiderate of how rude you would seem to the man you’ve been leaving all alone in the cold and empty dining room of your manor.

well, your mother’s.

and a friend, too.

well, not a friend.

Karl Heisenberg and Alcina Dimitrescu would prefer the term, “(unfortunate) associates”, but manners run well in a noble’s blood so it’s natural for the two to try and be cordial.

and it’s the same manners, the same etiquettes instilled in you that have put you in this state.

flushed, embarrassed, and wet.

you couldn’t bare to look Heisenberg in the eye while he made small talk with you in your home.

his round, black glasses were perched on the tip of his strong nose, his hat, like a loyal companion, sat next to him on a wooden chair, his greyed hair, out and frisky. his overcoat had been long abandoned, perhaps, at the very entrance to the castle, so his beige undershirt, clasped around his big broad muscles and softer belly didn’t go unnoticed by you.

fuck, the more you took in his appearance, the hotter became the air in the room, your ability to breathe and the more frantically you’d rub some friction between your thighs.

YOU’VE FOUND KARL HEISENBERG INSATIABLE since you were a little girl, which you still were in his eyes, as he painfully reminded you every time by referring to you by that and nothing else. as of lately, your urges around him have worsened.

since your eighteenth birthday, Heisenberg’s began to look at you a little differently.

he listens carefully to the squeaky little bunny that’s lately got the balls to interrupt her own mother and company, correct them in political matters. yeah, Heisenberg’s began to notice you. earlier, your greetings would be dismissed with a nonchalant wave in the air, but now? heisenberg could hear you talk for hours, so desperately wanting to hear the sultry tone of your voice that he’d ask to hear the same story about your earliest memory hunting, over and over again.

so, to say he felt appalled by your frequent exits from your evening together— an evening he had committed to your mother, had Alcina been home— was an understatement.

after the third time you had left him alone, his impatience and ego got the best of him, though there was an undertone of curiosity there, too. so, he, sly as a fox, followed you to your room.

your back was pressed against the door, muffling your cries while you rubbed your clit down with a toy. you were in a trance, mind fogged with painful lust that drove your legs on its own fervour. you sink into your bed, ripping your dress off of yourself in a swift motion, and hiding your bare skin with a poor excuse of a duvet.

your toy was swimming in your slick with every rub against your cunt.

“fucking hell,” you moaned when the tip of the toy nudged your slit, massaging your hole, easing in only to pull out immediately.

while you edged yourself, thoughts of Karl crawled in, like their usual tendency. you fantasised about his big hands, how they were resting on your knee for a brief second, before continued sipping on his earl grey tea.

you sighed when his name escaped your parted lips. you wanted nothing more than to be split open on his cock, at his mercy. your mother would be so ashamed if she ever finds out one of her most disliked friends is the prime source of your infatuation.

you think about his lips on yours, your breasts, his fingers inside you, on your clit— you whined, “this so wrong, but fuck me,”

AND KARL HEISENBERG COULDN’T AGREE MORE.

admiring you from afar, he couldn’t help but feel a twitch of arousal in his pants. he is no damn saint, but he knew it was wrong of him to enter your room without permission. not his fault, your moans sounded like cries, so you worried him, he just wanted to make sure you’re okay. and his reason for staying to watch the show? well, like i said, he’s no goddamn saint. he just wants to make sure you’re really okay.

“so this is what you keep hopping off to do, little bunny.” his thunderous voice roared in the quiet of your room, the transatlantic accent deeper once laced with lust and mischief.

you jolted upright, “L-Lord Heisenberg!” you clutched the duvet to your chest, failing to cover a breast, still, and his eyes were quick to catch your mistake.

“please, call me Karl.”

“you seemed to have no problem in moaning it.”

you froze, clenching involuntarily around the the length of your penetrating toy.

“i—”

“shh, it’s okay.” your stammering was interrupted by a single step taken by Karl closer to you.

“i don’t mind, bunny.” he cooed, softly.

he took this moment to admire you.

you looked like a deer caught in headlights. your doe eyes, furrowed brows, plump, parted lips, the subtle perspiration settled on your collarbone, the duvet clinging to your cleavage and your pebble-like nipples peaking through it.

“i’m just mad you had to hide the show from me.” by the time those words leave his mouth, he’s on the foot of your bed. “thought Mama Dimitrescu would’ve taught you better, sweet girl.” he ‘tsk’ed.

“A GOOD HOST ISN’T SELFISH, HM?”

“A GOOD HOST LETS THE GUEST JOIN IN ON THE FUN,” he says; nods convincingly. a gentle hand inching towards your blanketed body, ready to peel the duvet off and expose you in all vulnerability.

he eyes you for a moment, face searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, but was pleased to see you rip all coverings off yourself on your own, grabbing Karl by the hand and pulling him towards you.

his face was so close to yours, you felt heat emitting from your body onto his.

“now, little bunny, are you sure yo—”

you cut him off by placing a kiss of fervency on his lips, giving Heisenberg the answer to questions he was yet to ask.

he let you enjoy the lead for a brief moment more, before taking control. laying you down, Karl was quick to climb on top of you, his hands not wasting a minute to feel your body beneath him.

“i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want this, too, little bunny.” you gasped at the confession, Karl using your parted lips as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

you were kissing your mother’s friend, holy fuck.

“tell me, baby,” he pulled away, eliciting a whine from you. he now laid besides you, relishing the warmth of your bare body.

“‘you ever put a real cock in there?” his hand grabbed a hold of the toy, easing in the tip into your slick folds.

your mind went blank, grinding your hips slowly into the sudden intrusion. “when i ask you a question, little girl, you answer it.” Heisenberg’s voice deepened in dominance. “n-no, sir.” you shook your head.

Karl groaned in arousal.

the thought of stripping away your innocence was so intoxicating.

“of course not. that brute dame knows better than to let you out of this shithole.” he scoffs, evidently insulting your mother, for reasons he named himself, “the minute you ought to step out, men would be pouncing on you like rabid dogs.”

he didn’t stop pumping the toy inside you, agonisingly slow, leaving you whining and begging for more.

“you want more, huh, bun?” he spoke so gently. you nodded, unable to form words because of the aching sensation between your legs.

“okay, i’ll give you more.” he lifted you up like you weighed a feather, placing you between his legs. his own were positioned between yours, so all it took for him to have you spread out was just a nudge of his knees.

“there we go, now spread that pretty pussy for me.” he rested his head on your shoulder, watching eagerly while you hesitated a little to comply.

he put his hands on yours,

and they fit like pieces of an intricate puzzle.

enveloping your smaller ones completely, his hands guided yours to spread your pussy open. the cold air of your room hit your leaking slit, causing you to shudder in his arms.

“look at you glistening, baby.”

“my god,” he groaned, rubbing your hand (and his atop) into your slick.

you sighed into the feeling of your soft hands, mixed with his large, rough ones.

“show me how you please that little pussy.” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe.

you nodded, biting your lower lip at his vulgarity.

a lord, yet so crude.

you began toying with your clit, rubbing figure-eights on the swollen bud. Karl’s hands wasted no time in fondling your breasts— groping, squeezing, twisting your nipples, tugging at them— only adding more pleasure to the sensation.

“ease one in.”

you weren’t sure what he mumbled until he decided to take matters into his own hands (literally) and rubbed a finger against your slit.

you swore you forgot how to breath when the sharp sensation of the digit penetration was felt.

“Karl…” you moaned, relishing in the feel of being stretched open.

“what do you think about when you touch yourself?” he asked, velvety voice dripping honey on you.

simply answered, “you.”

he kissed your neck, “i know, bunny. but what in specific?”

“uh~”

“tell me.” he grunted, pushing another finger inside.

“y-your hands… i think about your fingers… inside me.”

you mewed hearing him groan in your ear, the subtle nuzzle of his head into your neck urged you to continue. “‘want nothing more than your cock pounding me— wanna be at your mercy, Karl!”

“fuck, baby,” Karl groaned at your vulgarity; even you were surprised at the profanities leaving your lips but the lust hazed cloud in your mind burst with rains of arousal.

“i’ll give what you want for being such a good girl.” he purred in your ear, discarding the drenched toy. your whine at the loss of contact turned into a gasp when he so carelessly threw away your toy to the corner of the room.

you looked up at him through your lashes, feigning faux offense at the abandonment of your favourite companion on a lonely night. “don’t worry,” assured Karl, grinning.

“you won’t be needin’ that no more.” he grinned, plunging two of his thick digits right into your core.

you were stretched like a spring at the hands of this rugged noble. he nuzzled his head into your collarbones, the rugged stubble adorning his handsome face prickling your soft flesh.

Karl bit, licked, sucked, and nibbled, while you writhed, moaned, shivered, and cried in ecstasy.

“such a naughty girl— ‘acting so noble and sophisticated all the time, but when Mama’s friend comes in sight, you start cussing like a sailor with the libido of a pervy sleazeball.” he chuckled at his own descriptions of you, while you hadn’t registered a word he said, simply clenching and unclenching around his experienced fingers, moaning his name with every haggard breath.

“c-close!” you hiccuped, tears staining your rosy face.

“god, you’re so beautiful.” Karl groaned, licking the shell of your ear. you shuddered, not knowing if it was at his lewd actions or the mere compliment.

Karl breathed in your scent, your sensual oud suppressed by the sweet fragrance of your arousal.

he pulled out his fingers.

you began crying.

“why…?” you sobbed, “because,” he explained.

“you’ve not been a very good host, baby girl— leaving your guest waiting like that. only fair you don’t get release this soon, hm?”

he cooed his justification and you weeped like you had committed the most heinous crime.

your hole fluttered around the damp, chill air of your room. gaping around the new nothingness that replaced the stuffed fulfilling treatment you were receiving prior.

“please, i’m sorry— i’m… i’ll do better next time—”

“next time?” Karl was quick to intervene.

“what makes you think there’ll be a ‘next time’?”

your glassy eyes widened, “please, Karl, i’m begging you.”

“hm…” he hunched over your shoulder, chin prodding into your shoulder blade while he looked over at you, nonchalantly. not even an ounce of remorse, amusement, if anything.

“okay. since Mommy taught you manners,”

he rammed his fingers back into your cunt, a look of devilish glee spread across his face.

in and out, in and out, in and curl.

you screamed when he hit that spongy spot inside of you, dead-on. Karl was quick to cover your mouth.

“now, now, we don’t want sweet ol’ Pasha hearing us, do we?” he slowed, referring to the chamberlain that’s often posted right outside your door. you shook your head, urging him to go faster like he was.

“good fucking girl,” he groaned, feeling you pulsate around his wrinkled fingers.

“give me a show, host. make it worth the hours you kept me waiting. ‘dry and hangin’.” he nudged your legs wider, further apart with his knees. the hand that covered your pretty lips now wrapped itself around your own hand.

a sweet moment that lasted mere seconds, he took your interlaced fingers and placed them on your clit, shaking your hand fervently.

your brows furrowed, vision blurred as you peaked. afraid you can’t let go, but he’ll make you.

he’ll make you lose control, just like he’s made you his.

with one last push, or shove of his fingers, he quickly pulled them out, and broke the dam of pleasure.

your slick gushed out of your drooling cunt, drenching everything, including the two of you, nearby.

Karl chuckled, triumphantly. still rubbing fervently at your overstimulated clit, urging more of your juices to squirt out.

“now, that’s a show, darling.” he chuckled, grabbing your flushed face by the chin and connecting your lips to a passionate, chaste kiss.

when you closed your legs, he slapped your thigh, causing you to wince and jerk them open.

“—the hell are you doing?” he asked, seemingly offeneded.

“are you kicking me out?” he raised a brow, a sarcastic smile threatening to break on his face.

“b-but i thought we were—”

“done? oh, no, baby. you left me alone in that dining room thrice this evening.”

“this was just the first of three.”

“now, ass up, face down.” he manhandled you in the blink of an eye.

“your guest’s gotta entertain himself.”

he chuckled, and you nearly choked when you felt something mean, and thick prodding at your abused folds.”

you were in for a long night with your guest.

pt. II. main masterlist. blog directory. COCKUETTE MASTERLIST.

[official-cvntified-gay]

Can i get Sugar mommy Alcina? 😭🙏

Reader found her profile and fell inlove instantly, (because who wouldn't) and idk you can do whatever you want with the rest 😗

Thanks and loveeeeee your work so much!💞💞

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭? [𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐃. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

warnings: smut, sugar realness, public sex

❥ note: I am so sorry darling it took me so long to upload this, I gotta say, writing smut is so hard(I get all hot and bothered) on my knees to all smut writers, thank you for feeding us. And thank you anon and I hope you enjoy this filth<3

❥ note: request is open<3

You had no intention of diving into a sugar relationship, but curiosity got the best of you one late evening as you scrolled through various profiles on a niche site. You weren't even seriously looking until she appeared on your screen.

Alcina Dimitrescu.

It was impossible to ignore the immediate impact she had on you. Her profile was captivating, her beauty mesmerizing, and her wealth? Well, it was obvious she didn’t need to flaunt it—her elegance spoke volumes. Standing taller than any woman you’d ever seen, her striking dark hair cascading down her back, sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, and the grace in her piercing gaze made you pause. The way she carried herself, even in a few photos, was magnetic.

A playful grin tugged at your lips. Why not? You thought as you typed a message, half-expecting not to hear back. But, to your surprise, it took mere minutes before a response pinged in.

"You’re quite bold to approach me, darling. Care for a drink tomorrow night?"

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as you read it. Tomorrow? Alcina Dimitrescu wanted to meet you tomorrow night? The thought was dizzying.

The next evening, you found yourself dressed in your best, standing nervously in front of one of the most luxurious hotels in town. The butterflies in your stomach only worsened when a sleek black car pulled up, and the driver opened the door to reveal her.

Alcina stepped out gracefully, her figure impossibly tall, dressed in an exquisitely tailored black dress, her red lips curled into a knowing smile. You felt your pulse quicken as her golden eyes swept over you.

“Well, aren’t you just darling?” she said, her voice smooth like velvet, with an edge of amusement. “Shall we?”

You nodded, speechless, as she offered you her hand—cool, strong, and commanding. The touch sent shivers down your spine as she led you into the hotel, whisking you away to a private lounge that screamed exclusivity.

Conversation flowed easily, and though Alcina radiated power and grace, she was attentive, never making you feel lesser despite her imposing figure and wealth. There was undeniable chemistry—her eyes never straying far from yours, her voice laced with quiet seduction as she inquired about your life, your interests, all while making her intentions clear.

After that night, Alcina kept her promise, sweeping you into her world of luxury. But each encounter revealed more than just opulence. With every passing day, you started to see behind her controlled exterior. At first, she showered you with gifts—lavish dinners, designer clothes, and trips to private locations. Yet, amidst the grandeur, something in her softened.

Months passed, and your relationship with Alcina grew more profound and passionate. She wasn’t just spoiling you with her wealth anymore—though she did love to see you dressed in the finest clothes and accessories—but there was a deep connection between you two that transcended the material world. Her affection had shifted into something tender, something that felt like home. She had started trusting you with more of her personal life, and her once-impenetrable walls had crumbled in your presence.

One afternoon, Alcina decided to take you shopping in one of the most exclusive boutiques in town. She had mentioned a gala was coming up, and of course, you needed to be dressed to perfection for the event. As you entered the store, you were greeted by the staff as if you were royalty. Alcina’s commanding presence made it clear that this was no ordinary shopping trip—she wanted to spoil you, and nothing was off-limits.

Her eyes scanned the racks of elegant dresses, pausing at a sleek, black gown that immediately caught her attention. She turned to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I think I’ve found the one for you, darling,” she purred, holding the dress up for you to see.

The gown was stunning—long, with a dangerously high slit on one side that promised to show just enough to make hearts race. You could already feel Alcina’s eyes tracing the path that the dress would reveal.

“I’ll try it on,” you said, your heart already pounding.

The boutique’s fitting rooms were just as luxurious as the rest of the store, complete with velvet curtains and gilded mirrors. As you slipped into the dress, you could feel the fabric hugging your body in all the right places. It was a perfect fit—sensual and elegant, just the kind of look Alcina loved on you.

You stepped out of the fitting room to show Alcina, her gaze locking onto you immediately. Her golden eyes darkened with a familiar, smoldering intensity as she drank in the sight of you in the dress.

“Turn around for me,” she said, her voice low, but there was a fire beneath it.

You obliged, slowly turning so she could see every angle. The slit of the dress revealed the smooth curve of your thigh, and you could feel her gaze lingering there. The air between you grew thick with tension as she stood up, her towering form moving closer.

“You look exquisite,” she murmured, her fingers lightly brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh. The simple touch sent a jolt of heat through your body, and you swallowed hard, trying to focus.

Before you could say anything, Alcina’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. Her breath was hot against your ear as she whispered, “I can’t resist you like this.”

Her lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine. You tried to keep your composure, but her proximity, her scent, the way her hands caressed you—it was overwhelming. The fitting room suddenly felt far too small for the desire crackling between you.

“We’re in public,” you managed to whisper, though your voice was shaky with need.

Alcina chuckled softly, her lips brushing against your earlobe. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet, won’t we?”

Before you could protest further, Alcina was guiding you back into the fitting room, pulling the curtain closed behind her with a swift motion. The space felt even more intimate with her towering figure crowding you against the mirror. She tilted your chin up, her golden eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.

Her lips crashed onto yours, and all thoughts of resistance vanished. The kiss was deep, demanding, and you melted into her touch, your hands gripping her shoulders as if to steady yourself. Her hands slid down the curve of your waist, fingers grazing the slit of the dress as she traced the bare skin beneath.

The heat between you was undeniable. Alcina’s touch was firm yet gentle, her lips moving against yours with a raw passion that sent waves of desire coursing through you. Her hands explored your body with practiced ease, and it wasn’t long before you were both lost in the moment, the world outside fading away.

Her lips left a burning trail down your neck, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of the dress as she whispered against your skin, “I want you, here and now.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, unable to form coherent words. You didn’t care that you were in a fitting room, or that anyone could walk in at any moment. All that mattered was the way Alcina made you feel—desired, cherished, and utterly consumed by her touch.

As the intensity between you deepened, her lips found yours once again, and you surrendered completely to the moment. The fitting room became your world, and Alcina was all you could think about—her touch, her scent, the way she made you feel like you were the only person that mattered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she move your lacy panties to the side, teasing your clit with her feather like touches.

"I know, sweet girl." She coos as you whine at her teasing, she made sure you were nice and wet for her. She coats her fingers with your juices before finally inserting her fingers into your aching hole.

Her hand pat your head as you rest your forehead on her shoulder, biting your lips as you contain your moans and whimpers. “Shh, darling,” she whispered soothingly. “We wouldn’t want anyone to know, would we?” she gently pull your hair back as she asked you, all you could do was gave her a nod as another whimper escaped your lips.

"Leg up, sweet girl." she wrap your leg around her waist, giving her better access and her fingers going deeper, your head resting against the mirror as her fingers continued to thrust sporadically against your walls.

Eyes closed, lips bitten, strained moans and whimpers

This woman knows what she's doing and she does it so well.

"Everything alright in there ma'am?" Your body jolts in shock as the staff knocks on the door, Alcina immediately brings her hand around your mouth. Her fingers thrusting faster and curling simultaneously in that spot, she smiled as your eyes widen then rolled back.

"Everything's all good." She answered the woman calmly as you fell apart against her fingers, Alcina kiss your forehead as the woman kept talking.

"Alright ma'am, if you're settled with your dresses just come to the cashier and we'll assist you." The woman said, unaware of what's happening just a few steps from her. Sweats are forming on your forehead as you feel your whole body warming.

"We're definitely coming." Alcina removes her hand as the oblivious woman walk away. "Come for me darling." With that your whole body follow her sweet words, trembling against her fingers, high-pitched moans and whimpers left you while your cum drips down her fingers.

Legs shaking as she let you rode your orgasm before pulling out, stroking your hair as you catch your breath. Alcina whisper sweet words and encouragement to you, kissing you as she muttered how good you are for her. You rest your head on her shoulder, nuzzling your face on her neck as she stroke your back.

The world outside could wait. Here, in this moment, it was just the two of you, tangled in a web of desire and affection that felt both overwhelming and perfect. And as Alcina whispered your name against your skin, you knew that this was more than just a fling, more than just a casual romance.

This was something real. Something powerful. And you were all in.