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willalove75 · 3 days ago

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Alcina's New Maid Pt. 25 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Summary: Alcina and the girls take care of business. After that, they dive head first into planning your birthday party!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI.

Tags: Just some fluff, maybe the tiniest hint of angst if you squint

Notes: Part 25! Heyyyyyy long time no see! I am SO, SO sorry it took me almost a goddamn year to update this fic!!!😭 I really didn't expect to not update this for so long. I was really only hoping to be away for a few months. For those who missed my latest life update in the notes of the last chapter, or if you forgot (lets be real that's totally what happened lmaoo) I had a baby!!! He was born in May and is truly the best thing in the entire world. Labor was ROUGH, I was in labor for 36 hours but he was perfect and healthy and a big chonk! (Almost 9lbs!) Postpartum has definitely been difficult, especially the first few months (PPD decided to BODY me four months in😅) but things are starting to finally calm down a bit and I've had the time, motivation AND energy to write lately!! WOO!!! I was NOT expecting this birthday party scene to be so damn long when I first pictured it. But it'll probably end up being about three chapters. Is it too long? Maybe. Probably. But I don't have the energy to nit-pick it to death and I'm afraid if I did, I'd think it's shit, lose all motivation, and take even longer to update this thing lmaooo Was this proofread? Kinda, but not really. Is it my favorite chapter I've ever written? Also no. But it does lay a bit of foundation for some other things later on! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it! Pls leave me a comment with your thoughts!

Click here for the rest of the series

The following evening, Alcina and the girls made their way down to the village. Alcina insisted that you didn’t wait up for them so you begrudgingly got yourself ready and fell asleep in Alcina’s massive bed, alone. What you assume was a few hours later, you awoke when the mattress dipped on Alcina’s side of the bed. Turning towards her, she smiled at you and pulled you into her chest.

“It’s done?” You asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Yes. Go back to sleep, draga.” She replied.

As you opened your mouth to ask more questions, Alcina shushed you and ran her long fingers through your hair. “Sleep.”

Knowing you weren’t going to win, coupled with your half-asleep state, you cuddled further into her and quickly fell back asleep.

Neither Alcina or the girls gave you details of what happened but they did tell you that the one child in the house was left unharmed and dropped at the doorstep of a neighbors house. For the rest of the occupants, only a few were brought back to the castle and taken straight into the dungeon. The rest never made it out. It was the one and only time that night was discussed, which frankly was fine with you. Guilt still ate at you, but you understood why things had to happen the way they did. Even if a small part of you still believed they should have been left alone.

After that night, the girls put all of their energy towards your birthday party. Once Alcina realized how out of hand things were getting she ended up taking over the majority of the planning - just as Cassandra had predicted.

It was decided that the party would be a black tie affair and the ballroom would be decorated with white and gold accents. Alcina asked you to come up with a list of guests you would want invited, even though the majority of the village would be invited anyway. It didn’t take you long to give her your list since you didn’t have many friends in the village. Your list consisted of your aunt, uncle, and cousins, a few acquaintances, and your best friend, Alexi.

“And who is this Alexi?” Alcina asked as she looked over your list.

“Oh, he’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend?” She asks, crinkling her nose at the fact that your best friend was a guy. “And why have you never spoken of him before?”

“I don’t know,” you replied with a shrug. “I guess it just never came up.”

“And I presume there’s no swaying you into not inviting this man-thing?”

“No! Alcina he has to be there, he’s my best friend!” She grumbles something about how many men will be in attendance, clearly unhappy with it given her usual “no men in the castle” rule that was lifted for the party.

“So how long have you been friends with this man-thing for, then?”

“Since we were little kids, I met him before my parents died. We basically grew up together. We even made a pact that if we were both single by the time we were 30 we would just marry each other.” You say with a laugh.

Alcina however, did not find your pact with Alexi nearly as amusing as you did if the clenching of her jaw was any indication. You immediately picked up on her reaction and raised your eyebrows at her.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She says with a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I just find it quite interesting you bargained to marry a man.”

Her suddenly cold attitude caught you off guard and was confusing until a thought dawned on you.

“Oh my god, Alcina, are you jealous?” You say with a smile growing on your face.

Her eyes flash with something akin to anger and they narrow at you as she scoffs. “Hah! Jealous? Of a stupid man-thing? Please, don’t offend me.”

Alcina turns her attention back towards the list. You can see how tight her jaw still is and the vein in her neck pulse like it does when she gets worked up.

“You’re so jealous!”

“I am not. I just don’t enjoy the thought of you marrying a man.” The tension in her body was palpable. Alcina would never admit that she was jealous. Possessive? Sure. But jealousy? That was a hideous trait, but Alcina couldn’t help but feel horribly jealous deep down.

Sensing her change in demeanor, you stood up and walked around her desk and crawled into her lap. Alcina sat back in her chair and looked down at you, a slight furrow in her brows still visible.

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, or be jealous of. I promise. Alexi is just a friend, never anything more.” Alcina’s hands slide to your hips with a firm grip. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours.”

A low purr erupts from deep in her chest as you play to her possessiveness. Her pupils dilate and she leans down into your space, just barely brushing her lips against yours.

“Mine.” She growls.

“Yours. Forever.”

Alcina’s grip on you tightens as she surges forward, crashing her lips into yours with a growl. Her tongue pries your lips open and she claims your mouth, making you whimper in response. One of her hands leaves your hips and tightly grips the hair on the back of your head and her other hand digs into your hip, no doubt leaving bruises behind. As you pull back to take a breath, Alcina nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it before letting it snap back into place.

Your half-lidded eyes meet hers, a smoldering gold, and she guides your lips back to hers. Just as your lips touch once more, the shrill ring of the telephone snaps you out of the lust-filled moment. Alcina growls against your lips, clearly unhappy with the sudden interruption, and releases the grip in your hair to pick up the receiver.

“Yes?” She all but growls. Her eyes roll as she lets out a huff through her nose. You can tell that this is probably an important business call she’s going to have to take, instead of telling them to call back later so the two of you can continue what you’ve started - which is likely what she would prefer to do right now. “Ah, Mr. Botezatu, I’ve been expecting your call. No, this isn’t a bad time at all.” She says practically through her teeth.

Alcina looks down at you and pulls away the hand she’s been mindlessly caressing your hip with to cover the end of the receiver.

“I’m sorry.” She mouths before leaning into your ear. “I must take this, draga mea. But we shall continue this later. Understood?” She nips at your neck, catching you by surprise as you try to silence the small squeal you let out. Alcina’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as she pulls away and turns her attention back to the phone call.

Giving her a nod, you climb off of her lap and just before you’re out of reach, Alcina lands a firm smack to your behind. You turn to give her a playful glare and all you receive back is a wink and a smirk before you turn and leave her office.

The rest of the day was spent with the girls going over more plans for the party. They did their best to keep as much of it a secret as they could, but they caved and let you in on some of the ideas they had. There was also plenty of complaining about how Alcina ended up taking over the majority of the planning. They batted their eyelashes at you, hoping to sway you in convincing Alcina to let them back in on the bigger plans; but even you knew that once Alcina had a vision, nothing you could do would get her to relent.

Dinner came and went and Alcina was still cooped up in her office. You decided to bring her a bottle of wine and her favorite glass so she would at least have something to eat.

“Enter.” She said after you knocked on the door.

When you walked into the room, Alcina looked up and her demeanor brightened significantly.

“One moment.” She mouthed, holding up a finger, turning her attention back to the phone. “Yes, thank you. Yes, the next batch is set to ship next week and the following will ship early spring. Excellent. Have a wonderful evening.”

She returns the phone to its cradle and lets out a sigh before shifting her gaze back to you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, draga?” She says, resting her chin in her hand.

“You missed dinner, so I figured I’d bring you something to drink while you were working.”

Alcina looks over at the clock and exhales as she reads the time. Her eyes flick back to you, with an apologetic look.

“I am sorry, draga. I’ve been so wrapped up with work I didn’t even realize the time.”

“It’s alright. The girls and I understand.” You say as you place the wine and glass on her desk.

“Thank you, my sweet.” She says as she leans down and pecks your lips. The phone rings and Alcina rolls her eyes. “One moment, draga.” She says before picking up the phone. “House Dimi- Ugh. Karl. Yes?” She says with an even more exaggerated eye roll. “Well, it’s about time you gave me your RSVP. They were due over a week ago! Although I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not like a mutt like you can read.”

You hear Karl yell something over the phone and Alcina pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales.

“Of course you were the last one to respond!” She says. “Yes, even Moreau responded, on time.” Alcina looks at you and shakes her head at whatever Karl says. “Yes, Mother Miranda was the very first person to respond - of course she is attending!” She yells.

Your eyes widen and you freeze in place. Why it had never occurred to you that Mother Miranda would also be invited and possibly attend was beyond you, but the thought of being in the same room again as her scares you and your fingers absent-mindedly trace the light scar on your chest from her claws.

Alcina notices your thousand yard stare and rushes Karl off of the phone.

“Draga?” She says, cupping your cheek. “Are you alright?”

Snapping out of your daze, you meet her eyes. “Yeah, I just didn��t think about the fact that Mother Miranda will be there.”

Alcina takes the hand you’re tracing the scar with and places a kiss across your knuckles.

“Fret not, draga mea. She won’t harm you again. I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“Yes, draga, I’m sure.”

Alcina cups your cheek and pulls you in for a soft yet passionate kiss. You feel the tension melt away at the touch of her lips and your shoulders relax.

“Are you almost finished?”

“Nearly. I just have one more call I have to make.”

Alcina glares at the phone, ready to be done for the day and you bite back a giggle.

“Is it an important call?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s important but it does have to be done today. Although I am anticipating it to be boring, it will likely be a short call, thank the Black God.”

“Well, I can keep you company if you’d like.”

“I’d always like your company, draga.” She says with a smile as she goes to pour herself a glass of wine.

Alcina drinks half the glass before refilling it and picking up the phone once more to dial the number. She motions for you to come closer and scoops you up into one of her arms and you settle onto her lap. Curling into her, you rest your head on her chest and she keeps a protective arm around you as the person on the other end of the line answers.

Her fingers dance mindlessly across the tops of your thighs while she speaks to whoever it is on the other end of the line. She only removes her hand once in a while to write in her ledger laid out on the desk in front of her or to take a sip of her wine.

The conversation only lasts about half an hour before Alcina finally hangs up. As soon as she returns the phone to its cradle, Alcina stands with you in her arms and whisks you out of the office, towards her chambers. After ducking through the door to her chambers, she kicks it closed behind her and lays you down on her bed. Without saying a word she captures your lips in a passionate kiss and strips you bare.

“Now,” she says as she looks up and down your naked form. “Where were we earlier?”

A faint blush covers your chest, neck, and face and Alcina picks up right where the two of you left off earlier in the day, making sure there are no interruptions this time as she takes you over and over again.

The party grows closer and closer, with deliveries arriving nearly every day, even Donna stops by and takes your measurements for a custom dress. The two of you talk about what you want the dress to look like and settle on a design and what fabric to use. You also got to finally meet The Duke when he visited the castle and Donna placed an order with him for the fabric. Whatever you expected the Duke to look like, you were not expecting him to look like that. The aura he gave off was mildly unsettling, but he also seemed incredibly cheerful. Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you thought of the large man, but you decided not to think too much into it for your sanity. He seemed like he was the kind of person that was nearly impossible to figure out.

Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra grow more and more excited each day, especially since it’s starting to grow colder at night and their time outside is limited to the afternoons. They continue to pester you about what you want for your birthday, even though you insist that they don’t have to get you any presents. They, like their mother, are as stubborn as they come.

As much stress this party is causing the staff, you notice that as the party gets closer, they also grow more excited. Aside from the dedicated servers, most of the staff will be allowed to enjoy the party at their leisure, something you insisted Alcina allowed, and you can feel the anticipation in the air. Zina seems eager for the event as well, even though she will be manning the serving team. You can almost hear the excitement in her voice when she talks about it.

Finally, the morning of the party arrives and the castle is buzzing with excitement. Maids are scurrying around with last minute preparations and the girls can hardly contain themselves. So much so that the three of them are actually ready early - hours early at that. Alcina’s already building anxiety nearly skyrockets when they show up to her study nearly three hours before the start time dressed and ready. The girls have never been able to keep themselves presentable for more than an hour at most, but they promise up and down that they won’t ruin their dresses or hair and makeup before the party.

She sends them out with a wave of her hand as she goes back to finish the little bit of paperwork she has left for the day.

Meanwhile, you try to help with final preparations but every time you try, Zina or one of the maids shoo you away. Apparently it’s frowned upon to help to set up for your own party so you decide to distract yourself with a new book in the library.

Luckily, the new book sucks you in and before you know it, Daniela flies into the library.

“Dani, you look so pretty!” You say after you look up from your book and take in the girl before you.

“Thank you! Aunt Donna made my dress and Cass and Bela helped me with my hair and makeup!”

Daniela is in a form fitting floor length emerald green dress with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. Her red hair, as usual, is shaved on one side but the other side has near-perfect beachy waves. Her makeup isn’t subtle, but not heavy either and her eyeshadow beautifully accents her golden eyes.

“Come on!” She says as she grabs your hand. “We have to get you ready!”

“I thought Zina was gonna help me get ready?” You assumed since she helped you get ready for your date with Alcina a few weeks ago that she would also be the one helping you get ready tonight.

“Nope! She’s super busy making sure everything is perfect, so mother asked us to help you.”

“Oh,” it’s not that you don’t trust the girls to help you, but you know how chaotic they can get, especially if they start fighting and you don’t want to end up looking insane because all three of them wanted to do something different. “Alright.”

“Don’t worry, we already promised mother we wouldn’t fight and you get the final say on everything!” She says, as if she read your mind.

“If you say so.” You say with a playful chuckle.

Daniela takes you to Bela’s room where Bela and Cassandra are already waiting to help you get ready. Both girls look absolutely stunning. Bela is in a strapless a-line burgundy dress with her hair half up-half down. The parts of her hair that are half up are braided beautifully across the back of her head and the rest hangs down in pretty waves. Her makeup is minimal and she looks like a natural beauty. Cassandra is in a floor length metallic gold dress with a slit up the side, a straight neckline and thin straps. Unlike Bela, her makeup is heavier with dark eyes, winged eyeliner, and a bold lip. But she still looks just as gorgeous as her sisters. Her thick black hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail.

You take a moment to engrain the way all three girls look into your memory. Not only is it so special to you that they would get all dressed up for your party, but this is the first and probably last time that you’ll see all three of them dressed so nicely without a hair out of place or blood splatter anywhere. They all look truly gorgeous and it warms your heart to see them like this.

“Ready?” Daniela asks, practically vibrating with excitement.

Sensing the excitement in the girls brings a smile to your face, you’re really looking forward to spending this time with them.

“You bet! Let’s do this!”

The three of you discuss what you want to do with your hair and makeup and once a plan is set in place, the girls get to work.

Cassandra paints your nails as Daniela does your makeup and Bela does your hair. You’ve never been pampered like this before and as unusual as the feeling is, you’re truly enjoying yourself. As you look at the mirror while the girls work on you, your eyes travel down to the light scar on your chest and the much more noticeable one on your neck.

“Hey Dani, are you able to cover these up at all?” You ask quietly as your free hand runs over the scars.

The chatter amongst the girls stops and they try not to look at you with pity in their eyes. Daniela takes a look at them with sad eyes and meets your gaze.

“I can definitely cover the ones on your chest.” She says, dabbing concealer onto your skin. “But this one,” she says, gesturing to your neck scar. “I can put some makeup on it to make it less noticeable but I don’t think I’ll be able to completely cover it.”

Meeting her gaze, you see the sadness in her eyes. Looking back into the mirror, you see Bela focusing herself on your hair and Cassandra is staring at your nails as if they personally offended her. It’s always so interesting to see how differently the girls react to that day. Daniela wears her heart on her sleeve, Bela will almost always focus on something else so she doesn’t have to think about it, and Cassandra is still angry about what happened. Even though she’s forgiven Alcina, she still harbors some resentment about the whole thing.

“That’s fine, whatever you can do. Thanks Dani.” You say with a smile.

Daniela smiles and continues working on your makeup. After a few minutes, the chatter picks back up and the four of you go back to laughing and poking fun at each other.

Finally, your hair, makeup, and nails are done. The four of you decided on leaving your hair down in curls, pinning one side back and allowing the rest to fall down your back and a little over your other shoulder. It also helps to hide what the makeup couldn’t of the scar on your neck. For makeup, you settled on a natural, but not minimal, look with a red lip to match the red Cassandra painted your nails with.

“Now for the dress!” Daniela says as she flies to Bela’s wardrobe and pulls out the garment bag.

Daniela unzips it and reveals the dress you and Donna spent hours discussing. It’s the first time any of you have seen it and you are stunned at her work. The black sequins sparkle beautifully in the light and you can’t wait to try it on.

You can hear the girls flies buzzing in excitement as you change into the dress and when you step out from behind the dressing screen, the three of them let out an audible gasp. Turning to look in the mirror, the biggest smile pulls across your face.

“You look beautiful.” Bela says as she stands next to you and fixes a stray hair.

Looking over, you can see Daniela covering her mouth with tears in her eyes and you pull her in for a hug.

“Oh, bug! Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your makeup.” You say with a laugh.

Daniela pulls herself together and wraps her arms around you, giving you too tight of a squeeze before letting go.

“It’s a shame really,” Cassandra begins to say and Bela immediately stares daggers at her. “It’s such a pretty dress and there’s no way mom isn’t literally tearing it off of you later tonight.” She says almost too casually.

“Cassandra!” You say as your face turns bright red.

“Tell me I’m wrong?” She deadpans.

“Cass! Gross!” Daniela whines.

“Alright, enough!” Bela says. “You look absolutely stunning and mother is going to be beside herself when she sees you.”

“Thank you so much, girls. I really, really appreciate you guys helping me get ready tonight.”

“Of course!” Bela says.

“I can’t wait for your entrance! You’re gonna knock everyone dead!” Daniela exclaims and you feel your face drop.

“My… entrance? What do you mean?”

“Your entrance! You know, when you enter the party in front of everyone?” Daniela says.

“I - I don’t get it. Are we not just greeting people as they come in?” You ask nervously.

“What?! No!” Daniela says.

“All of the guests are currently arriving. We’re supposed to let Zina know when you’re ready so they can prepare for your entrance.” Bela explains.

“So everyone is going to be looking at me?”

“Duh, it's your party.” Cassandra says.

“Oh god, I don’t want to do that! Why didn’t Alcina tell me about this?”

“Probably because she didn’t want you to freak yourself out too much beforehand.” Daniela says with a shrug.

You start pacing as your nerves skyrocket.

“Oh god, I - I can’t do that! I’m gonna fall down the stairs or something and completely embarrass myself! I don’t want to be the center of attention like that in front of the entire village!”

“You’ll be fine! Just breathe.” Bela says as she tries, and fails, to comfort you.

“Hey!” Cassandra yells, snapping you out of your near meltdown and grabs your shoulders. “You’re going to go out there and woo the shit out of everyone, our mother included. You look hot as shit and you won’t make an ass of yourself. Don’t worry, you got this.”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

Taking a deep breath, just barely settling your nerves, you give Cassandra a nod and Daniela flies out of the room to tell Zina you’re ready.

A few moments later, Zina knocks on the door and walks in. Your jaw drops when you first see her. You’ve never seen her in anything other than her uniform before, no less all dressed up. She’s wearing a long sleeve black dress with her salt and pepper hair tied up into a perfect bun at the back of her neck. She’s wearing minimal makeup, but more than she wears on an average day. She looks so pretty and you can’t help but smile.

“Zina, you look beautiful!” You say.

“Oh, this old thing? Thank you. You look absolutely beautiful yourself, dear.” She says with a warm smile.

“Thank you.”

“Alright girls, your mother is waiting for you. Off you go!” She says as she waves the girls away. They give you each one last “you got this” before flying out of the room.

“Ready?” Zina asks.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting to have to do a whole entrance.” You say nervously.

“Don’t worry, the Countess will be right there. Just focus on her and all will be fine.” She says.

“Alright, if you say so.”

“Let's get going, we don’t want to miss your cue.”

In the main hall most of the guests are gathered and the last of them make their way in. Some have already gone into the ballroom where the party will be hosted, the rest wait in the hall to watch your entrance. Zina stops you before you turn the corner and has you wait as she goes to tell Alcina you’re ready to go.

Alcina nods and bends through the doorway and heads to the stairs. The guests all applaud as she makes her way down, stopping at the landing to address the crowd.

“Thank you all so very much for accepting the invitation to Castle Dimitrescu for this wonderful event.” She says and the audience applauds. “This is the first time in decades that House Dimitrescu has opened its doors for such an event, and I am proud and honored to be your host this evening.” As she begins to descend down the stairs, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela appear at the top and make their way down, meeting their mother at the foot of the stairs.

She cups each of their faces as they pass her and tells them how absolutely beautiful they all are.

Zina leads you around the corner to the door Alcina stepped through and makes you wait before sending you through.

“And now, our guest of honor, Y/N.” Alcina says.

Zina gives you a little nudge and you freeze in place. Nearly the entire village is waiting at the bottom of those stairs to see you. Mother Miranda will be in that crowd and that thought alone is nearly enough to have you turn and run away.

Noticing the panic surging in your eyes, Zina takes hold of your hand and you snap out of your spiral. Your eyes meet her kind, blue eyes and she smiles at you.

“Go on, dear. You will be fine. Just look at the Lady, you’ll be great.”

With the ounce of confidence she gave you, you take a step through the door before it vanishes. As you step towards the stairs, gasps fill the room as the crowd sees you for the first time and applause fills the air. Your eyes nervously scan the faces, desperately looking for a familiar one. Unfortunately, the first person you see is Mother Miranda and her eyes are locked onto you with a cold gaze. Your heartbeat begins to pick up and you grip the bannister harder trying to steady yourself at the top of the stairs. It seems almost impossible to take your eyes off of hers until you feel another set on you. Looking down, you see Alcina at the bottom of the stairs and you immediately relax.

The look of shock on her face melts into pure happiness as her smile grows wide and you start making your way down the stairs towards her. Even if you tried, even if you wanted to, there was no way you would ever be able to take your eyes off of her. The eggplant gown she’s wearing compliments her complexion beautifully. It’s almost impossible to pull your eyes away from the deep v cut of her dress but your eyes travel down lower and you’re enamored by how perfectly the fabric clings to every one of her curves.

By some miracle, you make it to the landing without tripping or making a fool of yourself and Alcina reaches her hand out for you to take hold of. It takes all of your self control to not throw yourself into her arms and kiss her in front of everyone, but you find the strength to keep your composure. After walking down a few more steps, you take her hand in yours and once you're close enough she leans in.

“You look absolutely stunning, draga mea.” Alcina whispers to you.

“So do you, Alci.” You whisper back.

The applause fades and Alcina turns her attention back to the crowd, your hand still in hers.

“It is truly an honor to reopen my home to celebrate one of the very finest women this village has to offer. Ever since Y/N walked through these castle doors she has brought nothing but light to our once dark home. To show my appreciation for her, I have a gift that very few have had the honor of receiving in House Dimitrescu.” On command, a maid steps forward with a black box in her hand and gives it to Alcina. Alcina lets go of your hand to take the box and faces you once more. “My gift to you, draga mea, will not only offer you protection everywhere you go, but it is also a token of my love and my appreciation for you and I truly hope you will love it.”

Looking into Alcina’s eyes, you see a hint of nervousness and your stomach churns, unsure of why she’s nervous. Alcina opens the box and a sparkle immediately catches your eye. Sitting on pristine black velvet is an absolutely stunning silver and diamond choker necklace. In the center sits the Dimitrescu crest, a beautiful rose with two swords crossed through it. Your jaw drops at the sight of it and you can’t help but cover your mouth with your hands.

“Alcina,” you say. “This is absolutely beautiful.”

Your eyes begin to mist and you look up to meet hers, only to notice hers have begun to water as well.

“Do you really like it?” She whispers.

“I love it. I love it so much. Thank you.” You say.

Without even thinking the both of you lean in and your lips meet in a loving kiss. You can hear a few gasps from the crowd but the both of you ignore it as you pull apart.

“May I?” She asks, gesturing to the necklace.

“Of course.”

Alcina removes the necklace from the box and you turn around and move your hair to allow her to put the necklace on you. The jewelry is ice cold against your skin but quickly warms as she fastens it effortlessly despite the size of her fingers. You trace the crest with your fingers as you turn back around and Alcina looks at you with so much love it takes everything in you not to grab her face and kiss her again.

“Perfect. Absolutely beautiful.” She says.

The two of you stare into each other's eyes for another moment before she addresses the crowd once more.

“Let the celebration commence!”

Right on cue, the music starts up and the serving staff begins to weave in and out of the crowd with trays full of champagne. Alcina guides you down the rest of the stairs and the girls gush over the necklace. The sound of tiny footsteps takes your attention away and you turn around just in time for Elena to jump into your arms, squealing your name.

“Hi my sweet girl!” You say with excitement. “Look at you!” You say as you pull back to look at her. “You look so beautiful!”

“Mommy picked out my dress!” She says as she kicks her feet.

“She picked out such a beautiful one! You must be one of the prettiest girls at the party.”

“Not prettier than you!”

“Somehow I doubt that.” You say as you nuzzle your nose against hers.

Anna and Crina walk up to you, each of them holding onto one of the boys hands, with huge smiles on their faces. You hug and kiss each of them with one arm as Elena continues to cling to you before you greet your aunt and uncle.

Both of them seem wildly uncomfortable and your aunt tries and fails to hide the look of displeasure on her face when she looks at you and Alcina. Your uncle doesn’t even try to hide his scowl.

“Elena, come here please.” Your aunt says, taking the girl from your arms. She stares at the choker necklace Alcina gifted you and glares at you.

The look she gives you takes you aback and you unconsciously step backwards into Alcina. Alcina’s large hand settles on your shoulder and grounds you.

“I do hope the trip from the village this evening was pleasant.” Alcina says, feigning politeness.

“It was.” Your aunt says.

Your uncle steps up to you and leans in to get a better look at your necklace. He lets out a scoff and looks you in the eyes.

“I never thought you would be one to whore yourself out.” He says quietly enough so the kids can’t hear him. “And to this monster? You are a disgrace. It’s a good thing your parents are dead. Because this would surely kill them.”

Your heart sinks into your chest and the grip Alcina has on your shoulder tightens. A low growl erupts from deep in her chest and your uncle looks up to glare at her. He’s only able to hold her stare for a couple of seconds before the death glare she’s sending his way is too much for him to bear and he walks away. The girls’ flies buzz angrily as they seethe, all three of them staring up at their mother waiting for her to give them permission to tear him limb from limb. Alcina raises her hand to silence them. They open their mouths to protest but one look from Alcina stops them.

The sound of someone clearing their throats takes your attention away and you look over to see Mother Miranda standing next to the group. She’s sporting a smile yet the icy blue of her eyes is as frightening as ever. Her eyes drift over towards your aunt and Elena and your aunt bows your head.

“Mother Miranda. It is an honor.” She says as her voice shakes.

Mother Miranda nods at your aunt and doesn’t take her eyes away from her or Elena. The look she gives them makes your stomach twist and Alcina can feel the nerves rippling off of you.

“I hope you enjoy the party.” She says to your aunt with a smile that doesn’t even begin to reach her eyes.

Your aunt nods, taking that as her exit and quickly gathers the kids, beelining it out of the main hall after your uncle.

Mother Miranda’s cold eyes meet yours and she gives you a sickly sweet smile.

“Happy birthday, my child.”

“Thank you, Mother Miranda.” You say as you bow your head.

“Mother Miranda, thank you for gracing us with your presence this evening.” Alcina says, mustering up as much sincerity as possible.

“And miss such a noteworthy event?” Miranda responds. “I see you were gifted the Dimitrescu crest.” She says as she looks at your necklace. “Very rarely is something so valuable gifted to others. You indeed must be quite special to my daughter.”

You swallow and take in a shaky breath.

“I am honored to have been gifted something so meaningful. It is something I will cherish for the rest of my life.” You say as you try to keep your voice steady.

“As you should.” Miranda says. “Enjoy your party. Alcina.” She says, nodding at Alcina who returns the gesture before disappearing into the crowd.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and Alcina turns you around to face her.

“Are you alright?” She asks as she cups your face.

“Yeah. It’s just - that was a lot.”

“I know. I’m so sorry that this is how your night started, draga mea. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just need a moment.”

“Take all the time you need, iubirea mea.”

Alcina caresses your cheek before pulling her hand away. Zina walks up to Alcina and whispers something and Alcina nods at her.

“There’s something that needs my attention, will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Don’t let them spoil your evening my love. You deserve the world, go have fun.”

Alcina and Zina walk away and you take a minute to calm your nerves before weaving through the crowd of people. A few villagers nod at you, some wish you a happy birthday, others try to hide the look of disgust on their faces. It’s truly a mixed bag of faces and reactions.

After a few minutes of wandering around you hear a voice behind you.

“Oh my God! Who’s that hot piece of ass in the black dress?!”

Quickly turning around, you see Alexi with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Alexi!” You squeal as you run towards him and jump into his arms.

He hugs you tight and spins you around before setting you back down on the ground.

“Holy shit look at you!” He says as he eyes you up and down. “You look amazing!” His eyes move back to your face and they soften. “I can’t believe you’re real, that you’re here! Alive!”

Tears prick at his eyes as he pulls you in for another bone-crushing hug. You hug him back just as tightly.

“When I heard what happened I thought the worst was gonna happen. I thought you were - I never thought I’d see you again.” He says into your shoulder. Tears start to well in your eyes, just before they fall he says “Fuck! You even smell good!” and you begin to laugh.

“I missed you so much.” You say as you part.

“Why didn’t you write?! I saw Anna and she told me she saw you a few months ago and said that you were happy and safe but I didn’t believe it!”

“I know, I’m so sorry. Things have been so crazy here. I should have let you know I was okay. I’m so sorry, Alexi.”

“Well, you’re a bitch for not writing, but I’m so relieved that you’re okay so I guess you’re forgiven.”

The two of you laugh and hug once more. A server comes by and offers you champagne and you each take a glass.

“Oh my god!” Alexi says as he goes to take a sip, pulling the glass away from his lips. “Okay was I hallucinating or did you and Lady D actually kiss?” You nearly spit out your drink as he continues. “I was so far back but I saw you lean in and then heard a gasp and unless you happened to fall and eat shit, you definitely kissed that giant.” Your cheeks turn bright red and Alexi’s jaw drops. “Oh my god you did! Was that the first time you’ve kissed her?! Shit, I knew you liked older women but damn.”

“I - we -”

“Oh my god that wasn’t the first time you kissed her was it?!” You continue to flounder and Alexi gets louder and more excited. “Bitch I can’t believe you didn’t write to me and tell me you kissed her! You’re unforgiven.” He says as he takes a sip of his champagne. “Fuck, this is delicious. Okay, so how many times have you kissed her? Have you done more than just kiss? Did you two hook up?”

You get more flustered and cover your burning face with your hands and Alexi’s jaw hits the floor.

“Oh my god.” He says more quietly. “Have you two like,” he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers.

“Alexi!” You yell and smack his arm. Mortified, you look around to see if anyone else has their eyes on the two of you.

“OH MY GOD!” Alexi yells, gaining the attention of guests in your immediate vicinity and you slap your hand over his mouth and shush him.

“Shut up!” You say as you pull him to a secluded corner of the main hall. “Come here.”

When you finally get away from most of the crowd you pull your hand away from his mouth and it hangs open.

“Oh my god you two totally fucked!” The gears in his brain turn and you see a lightbulb go off. “She took your virginity?!” He says a little too loudly and your skin burns with embarrassment as a couple villagers walking by look over at the two of you. You flash them a polite smile before you glare at your best friend.

“Will you be quiet?!”

“Sorry! Sorry. But holy shit, girl, that gigantic woman took your v-card?!” Unable to verbally answer, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head. “Oh my god, how did she not split you in half?!”

“Alexi! She’s doesn’t have a -”

“She doesn’t need to with fingers that big! God, her strap must be huge. You poor, poor girl.”

“Oh my god. We haven’t - I don’t know if she even - we haven’t gotten that far, yet.”

“What the hell have you been waiting for?!”

“Things got complicated! I’m fine, but it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows since I got here, okay?”

“And you’re gonna sit here and act like I’m not going to have you explain that further?” He says as he finishes his champagne with an eyebrow raised at you.

“I can’t get into all of that right now, okay? But I promise I will later.”

“Bitch, you better.”

“I will, I promise.” You say as you grab his hands and give them a squeeze.

“Ahem.”

You hear someone clear their throat behind you and jump, releasing Alexi’s hand and turning around. Behind you, Alcina is standing there with a hand on her hip and her eyes narrowed at Alexi.

“Alcina! You scared me.”

“Are you enjoying your party, draga?” She asks you, yet her eyes continue to glare at Alexi.

“Yes! It’s so beautiful. Alexi and I were just catching up. Alcina, this is my best friend, Alexi. Alexi, this is Alcina.” You say, trying to diffuse the tension.

Alexi stands there, pinned by her glare and you nudge him to break him out of the spell.

“Oh, uh, it’s an honor to meet you, my Lady.” He says with a shaky voice as he gives a small bow.

Alcina purses her lips and looks down at you. Before she goes to speak, one of the stablehands steps in and addresses Alcina. He’s a bit taller than you, about the same height as Alexi with ash blonde hair and broad shoulders. You can tell by the way Alexi is looking at him that he completely forgot about you and Alcina.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt my Lady.” He says with a bow. “But may I borrow a servant or two? One of the horses stepped on one of the vineyard workers' feet and potentially broke his foot. We are having a difficult time dealing with all the horses with one less worker.”

Alcina sighs and you look over at Alexi and nudge him, nodding your head towards the stablehand.

“Oh! Uh, I - I can help!” He says almost too eagerly. Alcina looks at him and he clears his throat and gathers himself. “I mean, I tend to my fathers horses all the time. I can lend a hand, if you need.” You nudge him again. “My Lady.”

Alcina looks at you and you give her a nod and smile at Alexi.

“Well, if you have experience with horses, I don’t see why not.”

“Oh shit, really?” Alexi says and Alcina glares at him. “I - I mean, thank you my Lady.”

You smile at Alexi who introduces himself to the stablehand and they walk towards the doors together. With a laugh, you shake your head at your friend.

“That is your best friend?”

“Alcina!” You say with a laugh. “Be nice, he was nervous.”

“Mhm. Yet he still seemed quite friendly with you.” She says as her eyes stay on the two men as they exit the main hall.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You two seemed awfully touchy, when I approached.” Alcina crosses her arms across her chest and purses her lips.

“What are you - I was just holding his hands?”

“He knows you are mine. Yet he put his hands on you anyway.”

“Alcina, what’s going on?”

“I understand he is your best friend, but I do not trust those man-things. Especially around you. There is only one thing they want and they will do anything to get it.”

You stand there with your eyebrows furrowed. On one hand, you know what she means, but on the other - you realize she’s missing a key piece to the puzzle and you bark out a laugh and cover your mouth.

“Draga, this is no laughing matter.”

“Oh my god, Alcina, do you think he was hitting on me?”

“In all my years of life, men have only ever wanted one thing -”

“Alcina!” You say, abruptly ending her rant. Her eyes narrow at you as you continue to laugh. “He wasn’t hitting on me! Alcina, Alexi is gay. He’s not into women!”

Alcina opens her mouth to speak and closes it. She does this a few more times as a light blush dusts across her cheeks and you continue to laugh.

“I - I was not made aware of his preferences.”

As hard as you try to stifle your laughter, it still comes out from between your fingers as your hand is clasped over your mouth. Alcina is embarrassed as it is, you don’t want to make it any worse, but you can’t help but find this situation hysterical.

“It is not funny, draga.” Alcina says as she tries to hold back her smile. Despite her embarrassment, she too finds the situation amusing.

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny.” You say as you start to gather yourself.

Alcina shakes her head at you.

“Come, you haven’t even made it into the main event yet, draga.”

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #re8 alcina #re8 lady dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #re8 village #re8 #resident evil #wlw #wlw fanfic

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gluion · 3 days ago

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the cartographer's 2024 wrapped — in fics !

first fic of 2024: satin for jacob bae or park sungho — wrote this when i was abroad after a very crazy discussion on shibari and ribbons with people from deoboyznet. absolutely insane

last fic of 2024: almost, but not quite for leehan — this fic was an idea since june or july because i loveee loser!leehan but i couldn't pick it up for the life of me... was very much struggling to write fluff until i found a way that fit me as a writer and my own standards <3 can't believe how loved it is to this day !! thanks for loving her dearly (even with its length)

longest fic of 2024: finger trapped (ripped to its seams) for ji changmin, sung hanbin, or myung jaehyun — with a record of at least 15.6k words... ah the most personal one yet <3 an idea that was sitting with me for the longest time, even during my hiatus, and i knew this would be my magnum opus... because of its length, i don't think most people get to read it but it's definitely my favorite one.

most popular fic of 2024: 02:48 for gunwook — with a record of 699 notes (you lot are crazy)... a birthday drabble written for @shegotthewoobies is the winner. we both talk about how this drabble has gotten so much attention nonstop, i was not expecting it to even reach 600 by the end of 2024 but it did... now entering 700 soon enough

personal pick/s of 2024: safe haven (how much longer do we have?) for jacob bae, kim taerae, or leehan // finger trapped (ripped to its seams) for ji changmin, sung hanbin, or myung jaehyun — these are THE gluion fics imo. the easiest way to get to know what i write and my expertise are through these fics. all the praise i receive from these fics never fail to make me smile because it makes me realize that you enjoyed something i'm proud of :]

other milestones worth mentioning: started @onedoornet — i'm so happy to have started a network for boynextdoor writers :] i'm starting to realize that not only was i able to build an easier space for readers to find boynextdoor works but also form a community between writers. thank you to all the members who joined :]

favorite fic/s of 2024: 8000 layers of inyun by @wavesmp3 // wish you were sober by @blissfullsvn // everything i didn't say by @lionhanie // falling in love at first sight (x3) by @jnnul // alike tides, aligned waves by @loserlvrss — i have shared my flowers to these writers/mutuals already <3 you are all so amazing! thank you for filling my 2024 with wonderful fic :]

found on a sticky note from the cartographer — a little overdue but i was out of the country during this whole thing </3 thanks again to @sungbeam @blue-jisungs @slytherinshua @loserlvrss @serejae

@mosviqu @hollyoongs for tagging me in their 2024 wrapped <3 — thank you again to all my readers for sticking with me throughout this journey :] i know i've gotten a little slower with writing but thank you for always sending your flowers my way! i'm starting to feel the love and appreciation as a writer which really helps <3 always know that your reblogs and feedback do mean something!

#nom nom #milestones #2024 wrapped

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tubbytarchia · 10 hours ago

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recently became insane about Smallidarity through your art, do you perhaps have any fanfic recommendations?

YEeeesss keep in mind I've read less than half of the Joel/Jimmy tag on AO3, I'm just not into a lot of it lol

Zombabe - Zombie apocalypse AU oneshot, a little angsty but mostly just sweet, love to read this one as a comfort fic every now and then. Just writes Joel and Jimmy's relationship as a lighthearted yet deeply caring one very well

7 Minutes - Very short one, also angsty and also sweet, about Jimmy becoming panicked for having the lowest time on LimL

Charred Paper Hearts - I have never played DND and know nothing aside from the basic concept, but even so this DND AU was a good longer read with a narrative that hooked me, and if YOU know DND you'll probably get even more enjoyment out of it. There's lots of characters involved in this one but it always comes back to smallidarity and it feels rewarding to piece together the story as you continue to read it in it's back-and-forth snippet format. Also just automatically gets points for having BigB, let alone in a major role

Take me First - And possibly my favorite. When I talk about my fondness for suggestive themes when they drive plot and character, this is what I mean. It's mature, nothing explicit but heed the tags. And god it's really good. About Joel being self sacrificial and what that does to Jimmy, angsty and really well written from a character perspective, has genuinely changed my brain chemistry

More hurt/comfort and fluff I liked: What bad boys do, thunderstorms; and a bit angstier: Fifty Minutes, Crushing Hard. The measure of your worth isn't explicitly shippy but is also a well written fic of them I like!

#This is absolutely not every fic I've liked but. The ones I've gone back to reread!! Aside from Paper Hearts cause I read that one like #yesterday #blabber

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atleastpleasetelephone · 1 day ago

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hi! do you have a favorite fic you've written? i love your work!! 😊

Aw this is a fun question! I think my favourite oneshots are Honey Pie and the kinktober about role reversal.

I didn't really set out to write Honey Pie that way, it just sort of came out of me like automatic writing lol. The only thing I don't like about it is the anachronistic use of video tapes 😭 totally forgot they hadn't been invented yet.

Role reversal is quite personal for me, but I like the fact that BDE is doing the looking after for a change.

My favourite series is Little Darling. I have a recency bias, so I tend to like my more recent stuff more than the older things. But I think my multi-chapter writing has really improved and I've enjoyed re-reading that story a few times.

Sorry this was a bit of an essay! Have some photos of BDE to make up for it 🤣

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut

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kaistinlove · 3 days ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

ooooohhhh this looks so fun!! thank you for tagging me @becausebuckley 💖

Of Chocolate Parfaits and Cherry Pies (3.7k words | Teen & Up)

Or the one where Eddie Diaz is good at denying himself life's little indulgences. And mostly, he gets by fine. Perfectly fine, actually. But he can't seem to keep away from Buck.

I'll start off with my absolute favorite fic that I've written. I've written so much more since then but this will always hold a special place in my heart.

Homemade (They Don't Make 'em Like This No More) (5.8k words | Explicit)

Shame welled up inside of him and he snapped, "Stop that, okay? You don't have to - I'll just put it back on". He reached for his shirt that was chucked to the floor when Eddie grabbed his arm.

"Shit, Buck, no. Oh my god, I didn't mean to react that way. I'm so sorry, I really am," Eddie rushed through his words.

Buck opened his mouth to retort when Eddie brought his other hand up to subtly wipe at the edges of his lips. Huh.

I'll follow that up with my first ever written smut wholly inspired by Buck in aprons. The reason why I start writing although I kept it hidden for longer because of *waves hand abstractly*

Riding the High (6.7k words | Mature)

OR the amusement park Buddie meet cute

I loveee writing Chris in this because he absolutely would babytrap Buck with himself. It always Eddie babytrapping Buck or Buck babytrapping himself. So this was kinda a fun twist on that

been there, done that (once or twice) (21.5k words | Explicit)

OR the one where Buck wants to make a boudoir album and enlists Eddie's help as a photographer

I'm so proud of myself for finishing this because it's the most times I've questioned myself when writing. I didn't know if the words make sense or if readers could picture because this relies a lot of imagination and images. but apparently a lot of people like this and I'm like😭❤️

First Step Towards an Addiction (6.1k words | Explicit)

Eddie can never understand why Buck is adamant to stay with that one guy who makes him miserable. But he will keep being supportive — playing his role as a best friend, giving date advice, listening to him rant, occasionally fucking him. The last one is entirely the fault of Tommy. This is the start of how it came to be.

My Buckfidelity contribution hehe

I don't have anyone to tag yet but if you're seeing this, join with your own self-rec list!! ❤️❤️

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #kai's snippets

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allastoredeer · 8 months ago

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THAT MOMENT YOU REALIZE ALASTOR IS ACTUALLY WAY SCARIER THAN WE GIVE HIM CREDIT FOR

So, in the throes of doing world-building for my Hazbin fics and analyzing characters and how they fit into Pentagram's political system, I realized not only how powerful Alastor actually is, but how fucking scary.

Now, yes, in the grand scheme of things, Alastor is far from the most powerful person in Hell. Far from it. The Royal Family (Lucifer, Lilith, and Charlie), and the Goetia are way above the Overlords. Our twinky, angsty, galaxy bird, Stolas, could 100% body Alastor. I'm sorry, Al. I love you, babe. But in terms of the hierarchal system, you and the other Overlords aren't influential to the rest of Hell, at all.

But, it's an entirely different story if we stick exclusively to the Pride Ring.

I'm not trying to do a big, essay-length analysis, that's a lot of work and I'm tired, so I'll try to make it as brief as possible.

We know three crucial things: 1) sinners aren't allowed to leave the Pride Ring, 2) they've built a semi-functional society for themselves that is exclusive to their specific ring (with a political system that they've molded just for them), and 3) sinners can't kill other sinners.

So, what we have here is a big piece of land stuffed with people who can't leave it, in a society they've built specifically for themselves, with an amassing population that is constantly growing because they have no way of dying/or killing each other. (Honestly, it's like Heaven was setting them up for an Exterminations - THOUGH I'VE ACTUALLY COME UP WITH A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, COMPLETELY FANON BASED THEORY/WORLD BUILDING IDEA ABOUT HOW HELL HAD KEPT THE POPULATION DENSISTY CONTROLLED FOR THE MILLENIA OF COLLECTING HUMAN SOULS, HOW THE POPLUATION STILL GOT TOO LARGE AND THUS RESULTED IN THE EXTERMINATIONS, AND HOW IT WAS ROSIE WHO HAD A HUGE HAND IN IT ALL.

Anyway, back on topic, so the Overlords essentially control this Ring. We know Stolas lives in the Pride Ring (judging by the red sky we see when he's at his house), so its possible more Goetia live there too (and imps, and succubi; the Pride Ring is known for being the most diverse of the Rings), but we haven't seen any evidence of the Goetia, or any of the other Hellborn, interact or influencE Pentragram City in a political way--outside of the Goetia being above the Overlords in the hierarchal system). I headcanon that they do have some involvement in Pentagram City, as they do live there, but for the most part, the Pride Ring is left completely to the sinners and how they run things.

Lillith got involved, obviously (but she's been missing for years in the beginning of the show), Lucifer hasn't been involved for who knows how long, and Charlie obviously doesn't have a lot of sway, nor did she have any previous influence given how she's treated by the very people she rules over. Her status is known, but there's no actual respect for her or her title as the literal Princess of Hell.

The royal family may the the strongest beings in all of the 7 Rings, but outside of Lillith, it seems they had very little involvement (in Charlie's case) or interest (in Lucifer's case) in ingratiating themselves into Pentagram City.

The entire Ring is being run by the Overlords. They cannot leave it. The Pride Ring is their domain. This is their new home. This is their world.

And in this world, the Overlords are the top dogs.

So, Alastor is powerful just in the sense that he is one of the Overlords. Like them, he is essentially one of the rulers of their personal, caged-off little world. He has power and political sway. He joined the other Overlords for Carmilla's meeting, where they were going to discuss the aftermath of the Extermination and what they can do about the loss in the population (and thus, their power, given that owning souls is how they get it).

It's implied that this isn't the first time they've had meetings like this, and if they get together to discuss the best ways to recover from the Exterminations and make up for their mutual losses (literally working together when they could've all just been rivals trying to undermine the others to get more souls), who knows what else they've discussed in their efforts to keep Pentagram City running (especially considering that the best way to maintain their power IS by maintaining the city, it's people, and keeping it from falling apart at the seams. Taking care of the city is in their best interests - I use "taking care of" very, very loosely, considering this is still Hell and it's hardly the gold standard of utopia's). They're essentially a Board of Leadership with mutually shared power.

The Overlords have all the power. All the sway. In their established world, THEY are at the top of the food chain.

BUT then, you take into account that sinners can't kill each other (a rule that extends even to the Overlords), and that's when things get interesting.

In episode 4, "Masquerade" Valentino told Angel that he's "killed people for less" during the scene in the dressing room. But, in episode 2, after Valentino had torn apart one of Velvette's models, she wasn't upset in the way an Overlord would be if they lost someone under contract, especially considering that owning souls is what gives them power (and I assume that they own the souls of most, if not all, of the people they employ). She said that she can't sit and wait for "that bitch to pull herself back together," so, yeah, the implication is that sinners can literally be torn apart (even by the Overlords, who are the strongest among them) but won't die is immense. No matter what you do, a sinner will reform, or heal, or whatever, but they will come back.

So, consider, that there is only one person who's been able to kill sinners, permanently, and that person is Alastor.

Not only that, he killed Overlords.

In a realm where death is impossible, Alastor had cheated the system. And as far as we know, he's the only one who's been able to do it.

The only person I can think of who has something similar is Carmilla, but that's because she'd integrated angelic steel into her apparel. (Though, there's something to be said about her selling angelic weapons to the masses, as she is a manufacturer and distributor of them not only in Pentagram city, but all of the 7 Rings, (as Stryker had gotten his hands on a "Carmine blessing tipped rifle" to kill off Stolas, who's a Goetia), thus, sinners killing other sinners can still be possible, but that's only if they get you're hands on a weapon with angelic steel, or they're wealthy enough to buy onr, and I imagine Carmilla doesn't sell those cheap.

But Alastor didn't use angelic steel. He found a way to tear souls apart, where otherwise they were only able to be owned. Considering how terrified Husk (who is one of the most calm and collected people in the Hazbin crew; who had once been an Overlord, himself) was when AIastor threatened to do they same to him, like, that goes to show just how serious it is. He was literally full-body shaking. Ears-pinned back. Flight-fight-or freeze. Pressing himself down into the carpet.

We've never seen him like that at any other time during the show, even during the Extermination when they were all about to die.

Alastor's threat had scared him more than literally getting killed my an army of Exorcist's.

And like, yeah???? I get it????

That shit has to be terrifying. Not only for those that Alastor threatens, but for every single sinner in Pentagram City.

This random guy cheated the system, killed without any outside means, and if he can topple Overlords (the strongest and most powerful of them) almost over night, there's no saying what he can do to regular sinners. (Or what they think he can do, I have more thoughts surrounding whether Alastor would be able to tear apart a soul that is owned by someone else, but this is already getting long).

And, presumably, the only reason he stopped is because he decided to.

Like???? Do you guys understand what I'm saying???? For someone to have that kind of power??? In a system where that power SHOULD NOT be possible??? A power that gives him this massive advantage over everyone else???? That no one else can do???? And the only reason he doesn't use it is because he decides not to????

It's no wonder Alastor was so feared. Why he still is feared (by those who know of him at least LOL he has been gone for 7 years). And, like, yeah we see him be all creepy and scary during the show. We see him use his magic and grow into his demon form, and he is intimidating in that right, but I think the true horror of his character comes from this ability to kill the unkillable in a system where it never should've been possible in the first place.

That's where the true terror of the Radio Demon lies. That's where the visceral fear comes from. And it's why he's someone you wouldn't want to mess with, even for the other Overlords (especially for the other Overlords).

Like, it makes sense why he has such a massive ego. Why he thinks he can take on anyone. It's because he has. He's powerful, even by Overlord standards, and he knows it. And it makes further sense why him now being on a leash is making him unravel at the seams.

Am I making sense??? Is this all just meaningless rambling to you guys??? Idk! Idk. It's just been tumbling through my head, and it made me realize just how scary Alastor is, especially from an outside perspective.

I have SO many headcanons T.T I've done so much world-building, and I am have so much fucking fun. I feel like a kid in a sandbox. My brain hasn't stopped buzzing since this show came out.

Anyway, I'm off to outline more wips and work on the fics I'm writing. Happy Hazbin-ing to the rest of you.

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petit-etoile · 1 year ago

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Astarion/Tav prompt (or Reformed Durge): "I would have you smile again. You will live to see these days renewed. No more despair." I know it's a Lord of the Rings quote but gosh if it doesn't remind me of them ;-;

this is the end of the world ( a time for something biblical )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 5,219 content warnings: canonical mentions of death, spoilers for the dark urge storyline & astarion's act iii romance, graphic mentions of injuries, references to cann.ibalism as a metaphor for love, mental health issues & physical ramifications from the tadpole + rejecting bhaal, i highly recommend listening to the exogenesis symphony by muse other tags: canon compliant, canon-typical violence, character study, introspection, hurt/comfort, whump, canon temporary character death, the dark urge as player character, codependency, religious imagery & symbolism, p.orn with plot archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added to the taglist here

summary: ‘Stay,’ Astarion says weakly. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘Your life is mine,’ he says, cruel eyes gazing at you. ‘Accept your inheritance, or I will reclaim it.’

‘I would rather die,’ you say.

His hateful eyes narrow dangerously. It was never a good idea to betray a god, nonetheless one who had created you so lovingly. His voice is a low growl when he dismisses you — and suddenly, white-hot pain shoots through your veins and threatens to swallow you whole. Bhaal raises his hand and your blood obeys.

‘You were made to conquer,’ he snarls. ‘To devour!’

‘I don’t need any of this,’ you spit out. ‘I don’t need you. The only family — I know are those who fight by my side! I will not be what you made me!’

The sickness in your belly surges until you think it will overcome you. You stagger forward until your knees hit the stone floor. Bhaal is forcing you to submit, to become what he had made Orin. This thing won’t have you, Astarion whispers against the curve of your ear. It won’t win. You’ve got this, darling. And I’ve got you. You want to believe him, but your blood-kin has done damage beyond repair. What were children beyond the sins of their father?

‘You reject my blood?’ Bhaal asks.

‘Yes,’ you whisper.

‘Then I shall reclaim it,’ he says, his promise a growl in his throat.

You were your father’s seed cultivated to perfection by determination and bravery. Now, you were nothing more than a disappointment to be snuffed out root and stem. You choke on the warmth in your throat. Your veins seem to have exploded beneath your skin. You sneeze, red oozing from every orifice.

‘I will make another who is worthy,’ says Bhaal, lifting his hand.

As he raises his hand, you are forced to kneel. Every single one of your muscles contracts in agony. The others might be shouting but you can hardly hear them over the roaring in your ears. Your blood is rejecting you. Festering inside your flesh like a disease. Like the skeleton carved into the wall, you weep blood down your neck. No matter how hard you try to close your eyes to prevent it, your rich ichor abandons you.

No, you want to tell him. The rot of his blood will end with you as it had with Orin. The abomination of murder will never set forth and harm another. You reach for the dagger at your hip and raise it, but the Avatar of Bhaal dissipates before you can strike. The weight of your body collapses forward.

Like a wounded beast, you keen loudly, shaking your head as if that will free your ears from the blood inside of them. You were born from this blood. You were created by this blood to be who you are today. Rejecting it should be like a sin — but if sin is a seed, you have eaten it willingly from the hand of mortality. If Bhaal is to reject you, then you will reject his godhood.

You close your eyes as blood overtakes your sight. You press your forehead into the stone to fight your fever. You shiver and gasp. You gargle on the proof of vitriol and lean into the chilled floor, resigned to your fate. At least you wouldn’t become a mindflayer…

“No!” Astarion wails. Your heart shatters. ‘No, please — Not you!’

I’m sorry, you say. You close your eyes and remember the color of the sun in his hair. I didn’t mean for this to happen. This isn’t what I wanted. Your fingers curl against the stone, and then — There’s nothing. Astarion touches the sleepless bruises beneath your eyes with such tenderness you forget his strength. You lean your cheek into his palm and sigh sleepily, but even as exhaustion overtakes your body, you shudder. You’re afraid to sleep, to dream. You don’t want to hurt anyone else ever again.

‘You have to rest, my love,’ he murmurs. He allows you to lay on his hand as though it were a pillow. ‘When was the last time you slept through the night?’

‘I’m not sure,’ you confess.

‘I might be a sleepless creature of the night,’ Astarion says, ‘but you… You needn’t fear your dreams when I am here. I’ll protect you no matter the cost.’

‘And who will protect you if I sleep?’ you ask.

You must be frowning, because Astarion uses his other hand to soothe the crease between your eyebrows. He sounds so outrageously heartbroken that you want to cry. You don’t want him to think he isn’t a comfort… You haven’t slept beside someone in so long, and the warmth of his body has always lulled you to your dreams peacefully until recently.

Astarion swallows thickly. ‘I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of this. I’m with you forever and always.’

But what if there isn’t an always?

‘There is always a future for you and I,’ Astarion vows. ‘Now sleep. He can’t control you as long as I’m around.’ When you open your eyes again, you’re greeted by the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His eyes are a soft cerise, and his cheeks are high and sleek, his lips plump and his hair soft and curled. An angel. You’re unable to control the way you reach your hand to touch his cheek, smearing a crystalline tear across his wan skin.

‘Who are you?’ you whisper, voice caught painfully in your throat.

‘Hush now, my love,’ he whispers. He presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, and when he pulls away, his lips are ruddy and wet. ‘Thank the gods… I thought I had lost you.’

Oh, you think. You remember now. This is the man from your dream… You try to recall the details of how you know him, but it’s hard to follow a train of thought. You turn from side to side. It’s so hard to move, to focus. Your limbs feel as though they are made of lead and marble. Everything aches. The tips of your fingers and your nails down to the little bones in your toes. Your head, though, is the only part of you free from intense pain. It’s as though a weight has been lifted from the veil of your memories. You rest your arm across your waist, too tired to keep it lifted.

‘Who…’ Your brows furrow in confusion. ‘Who am I?’

‘I know you were once a child full of life and love,’ the angel says to you, gently cradling your face in his hands. ‘I know one day you were afraid and unsure and half-mad. I know you stained the streets red with cruelty and devised a plan larger than all of Faerûn. But I know you are strong and that your heart is good. You saved the tieflings, and you saved the refugees, and now you will save the world that threatens to be plunged into darkness.’

You smile. ‘That doesn’t sound like me at all,’ you confess.

The angel shakes his hand, fingers pressing hard into your skin. His voice breaks. ‘But I know it to be true, so you must believe my every word. You are brave. You are kind. You are good. You are my love, and I know that I am loved by you in return. You are a protector,’ he tells you. ‘You have protected everyone, and now it is time to protect yourself. You have survived two gods and now you must survive a third.’

The knot in your throat grows larger with every word. You think you remember now. Yes, you can remember it all very clearly. You know the weight of his hands like baptism. You turn your cheek and kiss his palm, smudging his skin pink.

‘Astarion,’ you whisper.

Your love smiles down at you, your blood dribbling down his chin.

‘What happened?’

‘Let’s not worry about that,’ he shushes you, massaging the bruises beneath your eyes. ‘Come, let us get you cleaned up.’

‘I don’t think I can walk yet,’ you say. Admitting it makes you feel weak.

‘Don’t worry,’ Astarion says softly. ‘I can carry you.’

‘I will bloody your clothes,’ you say.

‘Bloody them,’ Astarion says. ‘I don’t care.’

Astarion does carry you. He carries you all the way back to the inn, to a private room just the two of you share. He orders a tub to bathe you in and then takes an hour to scrub your skin clean, carefully cleaning your gore from your hair and scalp.

You watch as Astarion passes a bar of soap against the skin of the top of your arm over and over again until it is red then pink then flesh. Then, he gently twists your wrist. He cleans the underside of your arm next, and your palm. He washes your fingers until they do nothing but shake in the cold air. You curl your fingers around his.

‘Was it hard?’ you ask him.

‘I will never forget the smell of your scent,’ Astarion replies.

He moves to wash the hollow between your collarbones, encouraging you to recline in the water. He washes your chest and your stomach until his grief washes over him in waves. His chin shakes until a sob escapes. He presses his face into your hair and wails softly into your crown. When he’s done weeping, Astarion returns to his cleansing. He speaks not of it again. There is so little of you left.

You often wonder how much of your brain is left between the parasite and the hole your father has left you. Sometimes Jaheira still looks at you as though the rot of your father isn’t entirely gone. You don’t blame her. You’re waiting for your control to snap. You were good once. You could be good again. You want to be good again.

Shadowheart smiles at you now. Lae’zel no longer frowns. Even Wyll has taken up eating beside you again when it’s nighttime and the adventure can go no more. Gale pours you an extra serving of wine. He says you need it. Karlach lets you hold Clive at night when Astarion goes hunting, and he goes hunting often now. It makes you wonder if your blood is vile.

Part of you wants to ask him if you’ve done something wrong. You’ve committed no crime, but you feel like you have. Your memories of before are slipping away. Your memories of now seem to do the same.

You wait in your tent that night for Astarion to return, your blanket pulled around your head and shoulders. You rehearse what you’re going to say. You want to reassure him you’re not angry. You just…feel loss. Empty. The loneliness nips at your bones like crows at carrion.

When Astarion slips inside, he looks guilty. It almost makes you want to change your mind, but you have to know. You feel as though you’re going mad. A flightless bird trapped in a cage. Like Dame Aylin trapped in Shadowfell. He refuses to meet your gaze.

‘Have I done something — ’

‘You,’ Astarion says through gritted teeth, ‘are perfect. Every time.’

You want to cry. ‘Then why do you avoid me?’

‘Avoid you?’ Astarion repeats incredulously. He looks at you now despairingly. ‘No, that isn’t what this is at all. I would never avoid you.’

‘You’re hunting more often,’ you say in a low tone, a whisper. Accusatory.

‘Can you blame me?’ he asks plainly.

It’s your turn to look away in shame. ‘If it’s too much, you should sleep somewhere else.’

‘I don’t want to be apart from you,’ Astarion says.

‘Then how do we fix this?’

‘You cannot fix what is not broken.’

‘Astarion,’ you plead. ‘Hold me or — I don’t know who I am anymore.’

Astarion wraps his arms around you before you can say another word. His lips are like a halo against your head. Each kiss he presses against your scalp is a prayer from a sinner. You turn your cheek, and he kisses you so passionately it makes your empty head spin.

You relearn who are you in his arms that night. And as he regales you with tales of your history, you think you can imagine them in your mind’s eye. He kisses your wrist. He tells you a happy memory when he kisses the curve of your belly, and when he kisses your ankle, he promises you that everything will be worth it.

It wasn’t you that was the problem. There wasn’t a problem, not really. Only an impiety he wanted to atone for. He struggles with telling you, but when he whispers it against your thigh, you understand.

‘Your blood,’ he says, voice strained. ‘I cannot escape the smell.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, but he shakes his head and his hair tickles your sensitive skin.

‘No, I — It is my shame,’ he confesses. ‘I’ll admit I’m a lech.’

Astarion struggles to put his words in a coherent structure. When you died, he was horrified and distraught. Only the gods know how hard he wept seeing you lifeless. Yet it was his vampiric nature that had betrayed him almost as much as your life’s blood had betrayed you. He felt hunger.

How could he be sad when he was so ravenous? Was he not an evil man, or is this what made him evil? That, in all of his beautiful tears and lamentation, the urge to devour you, bones and all, nearly consumed him? Your death was horrible, ugly, wretched. Your death was beautiful and coveted.

Astarion devours you again that night, mouthing and licking and sucking at your swollen core. He makes you a martyr in his grief. His tongue teases you over and over again. When you’ve climaxed once, Astarion seeks out to make you do it again until your legs are shaking violently and your voice has gone hoarse. He doesn’t take you that night, not in the traditional way, but he swallows you up regardless.

It isn’t until afterwards when he’s laying with his head on your chest that you understand his tragedy. It’s a misfortunate impossibility trying to grieve when you can’t stop salivating. Astarion thinks you’re horrified by the admission, but after knowing your past, it was hard to feel scandalized by anything.

You pet his curls away from his face, watching as he listens to the hum of your heartbeat. He might have it memorized by now, but each time it beats, Astarion’s eyelashes flutter with admiration. It is a hymn, a doxology, a liturgy that only he knows the words to. After all, he wrote them on your skin and immortalized them forevermore. He is so beautiful, you think, when there is no trouble to be seen.

You were once both trapped by your dark god’s design. You had set yourself free. You had sprouted the wings of a swan guided by the empathy you had planted in a garden as a child. It would be Astarion’s soon, and you would carry him in compassion until the thorn crown was placed upon his brow.

Astarion’s eyes are closed. In your perpetually confused state, you mistake him for having fallen asleep and resort to doing the same. The city becomes chilly at night and your skin is decorated with gooseflesh. He rises almost immediately and you try to chase after him, fingers piercing through a ghost.

‘I wasn’t going anywhere,’ Astarion says immediately. He drags his cape from the corner of the tent and lays it across your shins. ‘You were shivering.’

‘I’m not used to this — ’ Will my mind ever be the same? ‘ — chill.’

‘I will be here,’ he promises. ‘Here, let me hold you for the night.’

You clumsily trade places with him, and he tucks your blanket and his cape around your body as tightly as he can. He kisses you passionately and you taste your familiarity in his mouth. It’s so sweet that you sigh. ‘I know what you did,’ Orin says hatefully, spitefully, cruelly. Her voice is like honey.

‘What have I done?’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t know?’ she asks. ‘Filthy rotten blood-kin undeserving of our father’s gift!’

You repeat yourself. ‘What have I done?’

‘You,’ Orin spits, ‘think your grey matter deserves to be loved! I should carve it out! I should make it disgusting and sticky again! Split it’s skull open! You foul traitor!’

Slowly, you pull Orin into your chest. You hug her and smooth her hair down her back. Her arms wrap around you begrudgingly until the lovingkindness causes her to rupture. She sobs into your neck hideously, clinging to you. She wails and she wails until you are both children again staring up at your grandsire for approval.

‘It isn’t fair,’ Orin tells you, hiccuping. She wipes her nose with her fingers. ‘It isn’t fair.’

‘I love you, blood-kin,’ you say. You kiss the top of her head.

‘Slaughter kin,’ she says sadly. She holds your hand with her snotty palm.

‘Sister,’ you say. In the coming weeks, your mind hardly gets better. Memories are still missing. You catch yourself gazing at the mirror longer than you expect to. You used to be so beautiful. It’s hard to recognize the face staring back at you. You touch one cheek and then the other. You turn your head and watch your jawline.

No, it still isn’t you.

You take the knife in your belt to your hair and begin cutting away pieces you don’t remember. You lean forward and smudge your eyes before sitting up straight and trying again. You recognize a part of yourself. You chase that feeling. You press your hand against your heart. You smile faintly. Astarion sobs so hard you think you might lose yourself. You’re at a loss of what to do. He’s alive but he keens like a dying deer. It’s supposed to be healing, you think. Cazador is dead. His reign of terror should end. Astarion is saved and he saved himself. You couldn’t be prouder of him.

Slowly, you step forward one foot after another. You collapse to your knees at his side. It’s easy to pull Rhapsody from his fingers. You drop it by his side. Slowly, as if in a dream, you hold him like you held Orin. Astarion sobs harshly into your collarbone and clings to you so tightly you might break.

‘I thought — I thought — ’ he cries brokenly.

I thought it would make me feel better, he says without saying. You shush him and pet his hair. Cazador’s blood smears against your cheek when Astarion burrows his face into your neck. You let him linger. You aren’t sure how long you sit on the hard marbled floors, but when you stand up, your knees creak so loud you’re almost insecure about it.

This time, it’s your turn to carry Astarion. He won’t let you pick him up, but you hold him by his waist. You carry him past your allies, past the onlookers who once saw you in opposition. You order the maids to bring you a bath, and as Astarion hiccups in the water, you bathe him.

You wash the taint of Cazador from his body. The soap cleans the dirt and the blood and the memory. You wash his chest and his belly and Astarion thanks you hoarsely. He looks at you, and his eyes are so wide and beautiful that you cry too.

Dying isn’t easy. It isn’t beautiful or romantic or a sweeping gesture. Dying is painful and hideous and ugly, and you have saved Astarion from a lifetime of torment. Rather, he did it by himself with your help. You swipe the soap against his cheeks and use a rag to clear it away. Astarion’s hair is somehow curlier when it’s wet, and you part the curls so they’ll dry without tangling.

Astarion watches you miserably as you towel his hair. You wipe droplets of water off his skin and slowly slide him into his smallclothes. He accepts your blanket and wraps it around his shoulders, staring at the wooden floor, at his feet.

‘Stay,’ Astarion says weakly. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘I would never let you be alone,’ you say.

It isn’t what you bought the room for. Really, you only wanted to wipe the blood from his face but now, you climb into the sheets next to Astarion and hold him tightly. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about the future. He doesn’t want to talk about his siblings either or the thousands of spawn waiting to hang on his every word.

And you can’t even blame him. The gods know how long it took for your tongue to become free from the weight that held it still after you betrayed your father. Karlach said you talked a lot before, but now it’s hard to say anything without wondering if your words are in the right order. Astarion cries softly as if to not awaken you from your slumber, but you can’t fall asleep. You can’t toss or turn either, but dreams evade you.

Dawn peeks through the window. Dawn-bringer, Jergal had called you. You slide out of bed carefully then and cross the room. You draw the curtains shut. Astarion watches you curiously from where he burrows in the sheets. His brow furrows adorably when you climb back into bed and plaster yourself to his spine.

‘Ah,’ you say monotonously. ‘The sun is gone. I suppose we'll stay in until it returns.’

After a day of lounging, Astarion still isn’t ready to talk about what’s on his mind but he watches you do your favorite mundane mortal things with explicit interest. He has you read the book you’re reading aloud, and if it takes you a few hours to struggle through one chapter, he says nothing about it.

Every once in a while, another one of your companions comes to sit in.

Lae’zel tries to commend Astarion for his warrior’s heart without sounding stilted, but eventually she gives up on complimenting him to sympathetically let him know she understands. They had all seen Vlaakith. Karlach brings Clive by and carefully arranges him in the bed next to Astarion. She tells him that he’s fucking awesome and asks permission to hug him.

The touch nearly sends him spiraling.

Gale approaches in his usual manner. He brings Astarion a bottle of wine spiked with blood and lets him know he’s available to chat whenever Astarion feels up to it. Wyll spends thirty minutes apologizing for the bad blood between them, which is funny considering their bickering was hardly vitriolic. Shadowheart visits and gifts him a perfume that makes his lip wobble dangerously.

Jaheira, Minsc, Boo and Halsin come together solemnly. They might be the least offensive of the bunch. Boo gives Astarion a thousand kisses on his cheeks, and Jaheira finally tells them a story of her youth. Halsin has Astarion drink a potion, not because he’s injured physically, but because it should help with his pain. Minsc tries teaching you a Rashemen dance, but Astarion laughs for the first time that day and you do too.

‘It is good,’ Jaheira says, ‘to see you both smile again.’

You touch your mouth shyly. Your cheeks are sore. Astarion’s smile fades slightly but returns in full, timid confidence lighting his features once more. Halsin crosses the room and opens the curtains you’ve closed. The light douses the room in holiness, and you turn your face to watch the sunset, unafraid of what the future will bring.

‘That which troubles you will soon be over,’ she promises. She pats Astarion’s hand, and although she doesn’t say it, you know he’s her son. ‘You will live to see these days renewed. There will be no more despair.’

You’re both left alone again together. Astarion beckons you to the bed instead of your chair and you join him, carefully sitting atop the covers, a respectable distance between your thighs. You inhale carefully.

‘You did the right thing,’ you say. ‘Not completing the Black Mass.’

‘Perhaps I had inspiration,’ Astarion replies. ‘You had a chance to become the Slayer, a being more powerful than you could have known. But you didn’t.’

‘I betrayed my father,’ you whisper, staring at your hands. ‘And he killed me for it.’

‘And if I had completed Cazador’s ritual,’ Astarion says, ‘I would have become Mephistopheles’s whore. I refuse to bow to the whims of others. Being an Ascendent…was blinding me to the truth.’

You look at him curiously then. He confesses to you his sins. He has thought of ascending, and thought of it often but it was never to protect himself. After a certain point, he wanted to protect you too. Your Urges had been mistaken for something else then. A possession, an invasion. Astarion sought to exorcise you of your demons.

But when you had died and the diseased lifeblood fled from your veins, Astarion realized the truth. The ascension would not have helped him protect you. It would have tainted him. It would have contorted him. Rising above all other vampires, Astarion would have become cruel like those before him. He does not want to be cruel to you. He wants to learn kindness as you have. He reaches for it like he chases the sun.

Astarion takes you by the hand, smoothing your skin with his thumb over and over. His skin is cold beneath yours. You curl your fingers into his. He did not want to make you a slave, not again. Not to him.

‘You are the dawn-bringer,’ Astarion says. ‘Even if I never see the sun again, I am free.’

‘I love you,’ you say, voice shaking. ‘I’ll be with you. In the darkness.’

‘You fool,’ Astarion laughs affectionately. He leans across the distance and kisses your temple. ‘There is no darkness. You are daylight incarnate.’

You look at him sharply.

‘I’ve been thinking about something,’ he says. ‘It’s…been on my mind all day, but I think it’s time. Say you’ll come away with me.’

You and Astarion dress slowly. You would follow him almost anywhere, but this is different. There’s something to be done. You don’t dress in armor, and for that you’re almost grateful. You’re tired of fighting. You’re tired of seeing blood.

But it isn’t blood or anything blood related that Astarion takes you to see. One minute, you are wandering Baldur’s Gate at night, and the next, you’ve come to the hollow of a tree where a gravestone is coated in vines.

‘This…is where my old life began,’ Astarion tells you softly. ‘Beneath there, I was turned into a monster. But Cazador is dead now and I get to decide my own fate.’

Astarion tells you in painful detail about his transformation. How his wounds fused themselves shut but the pain never went away. He tells you about breaking through the wood of his demise and the fear that flooded his veins and how, just when he thought he had found his savior, Cazador had laughed wickedly with his cruel glowing eyes.

‘I was his,’ Astarion murmurs, ‘but not anymore.’

He kneels before you on the dirt before his tombstone and bows his head. The prodigal son returned home. The sight of it causes your heart to squeeze. You want to step away but you can’t. You’re afraid.

‘There is nothing left of the person I was before,’ he tells you. ‘I am free to become who I want to be, free to start a new journey. I have all the time in the world to figure out who I am and what I want, but I think I know.’

‘I love you,’ you say again. ‘You’re what I want.’

‘You were by my side through all of this,’ Astarion says, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. ‘And now I want you to christen me. Inaugurate me here on the site of my rebirth.’

This is another dream. You hold your hands over Astarion’s head and sprinkle imaginary water over his head. His eyes close instinctively. Love washes over him, something golden. You kneel down and pluck a flower from the earth and it does not bleed. Relief floods your veins. For once, you touch something and it does not rot. Carefully, like a ghost, you slide the flower into Astarion’s hair and watch as his crimson eyes spill open with tears and devotion.

Astarion kisses you, and for the first time in a long time, he presses his body against yours. He takes you that night in the dirt. His leg is tucked under yours, his cock against your core, his lips never leaving yours. Astarion recites verses in your ears until you burst with ecstasy, tightening around him so much that he can hardly move. He cradles the back of your head to comfort you as he drinks your blood. He cradles your head tonight because he loves you.

‘I am yours,’ he whispers against your skin, ‘and you are mine.’ You aren’t sure when or how Astarion has the time, but he presents you with a gift the night before the world ends. He wears a matching flower from his grave pinned to his armor at all times now. And on his hand, a ring with a silver band. He slides one over your finger as well and kisses your palm as you slowly realize what it means.

The family you’ve chosen throws you a celebration. The next day, Dammon arrives and shows you your repaired armor now dyed white.

You cry for hours out of happiness. ‘This could be the last chance we have for this,’ you whisper to Astarion.

Everyone keeps telling you that a light has returned to your eye, but you don’t see it. It isn’t until you’re laying naked with Astarion again, his skin pressed against yours, that you think you can see it too.

Astarion fucks you tenderly until you’re sore, and you cry and plead sweet things against his shoulder while he holds you safe in his arms. When the pleasure becomes too much and your spine arches from the mattress, he pulls you into his lap and holds you safe against his chest. You kiss him until your lips are sore.

‘Your life is mine,’ Astarion murmurs. ‘You belong with me, my love.’

‘I’ve never been happier,’ you moan weakly.

He has taken you again and again this evening. He doesn’t say it, but Astarion is afraid of what tomorrow might bring. You have outsmarted gods and men. You have found goodness where there was nothing but darkness. You refuse to be afraid now.

‘We were made to conquer,’ Astarion says. His mouth is like a fire across your cheekbone. You shudder around his cock.

‘Take my love,’ Astarion commands you, so you do.

You kiss a ruby bruise into his neck, and Astarion fills you with a grunt. He doesn’t part from you. He guides you back down into the sheets and burrows against your body as if determined to climb between your ribs. You smile. Astarion has already made a home in your bones and flesh. He has eaten the rot from your core and recreated you anew. You were not his sin but his salvation. Perhaps he was yours too.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #extremely #aeristarion #coded #from ，carcosa .#anonymous #my fic #this might be my favorite thing i've written in a really long time #i think it vaguely fits the prompt i tried my best #sometimes...................sometimes.

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buskingalbatross · 2 months ago

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lo! the conclusion of my phanfic bookbinding quest!

I finished binding together two final books! each one is a 144-page, 28,863-word collection of six of the phanfics i've written in 2024. the book with the starry-cover is unquestionably the neatest, prettiest book i've made since I started learning about bookbinding back in august. but i'm actually kind of emotional over both of them and think they turned out to be really cool objects.

here are some pictures i took of them on this rainy sunday morning (+ a few more under the cut) 🌧️🌧️🌧️

previous bookbinding updates: 1, 2, 3, 4

#i very much want to start binding some of my favorite phanfics written by other authors now #also i may consider gifting phannies some of the four books i've made so far #as they all contain mostly the same contents and i only really need one of them #they are my imperfect first tries at ficbinding - but still pretty and cool i think #yeah #maybe someone would want one idk #dan and phil #phan #dnp #phil lester #dan howell #phanfic #phanfiction #ficbinding #yale binds fics

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 11 months ago

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Stede is a cryptid hunter on a team setting out to find the kraken. Ed is literally a kraken. Can I make it any more obvious?

My Ocean Deep is now complete! This a 65k, E-rated fic with some suspense, some angst, and lots and lots of love. If you're into actual Kraken!Ed, sweet protective Stede, monsterfucking, monsterloving, the crew as a family, or you just want to see what it would be like if Ned Low was just a really fucked up marine biologist, give this one a shot!

#ofmd #our flag means death #i really love this one and am very happy to see it finished! love how it turned out #also the last couple lines? maybe my favorite thing i've ever written 👀#ofmd fic #my fics

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necrotic-nephilim · 6 months ago

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Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!

#necrotic festerings #batcest #pro ship #necrotic answerings #tbh asking the question gave me the chance to explain it so ty!#might link this in my about me or my masterlist for ease of access #i don't want to like. overstate how big i was on an old blog bc i was not like. a celebrity by *any* means.#but i had a ship-specific blog and i was certainly a “big name fan” for that specific rarepair #and it like. took over my life when i was a teen #i look back on it fondly now but i really regret that i would obsess so heavily over numbers and what made a fic do well #my favorite fics to write were htp back then bc for htp culture writing on anon was normal since that was during the dreamwidth days #and i just. liked that veil of anonymity and i think i defaulted to that when i decided to finally start posting batcest stuff #(all of this makes me sound so old i'm only 22 i just started fandom really fucking young which i don't recommend)#and when i say one fic got big. i mean it. i have found that fic on instagram and pinterest and tiktok and even. facebook.#do you know what it's like when your fic gets reuploaded to facebook without your permission and you see what boomers think of it.#that was so mortifying.#funnily enough the boomers were actually really nice i was just shocked to find it there scrolling one day.#it was instagram that was super mean to me and traumatized my ass. man ppl dug into me for the tinest things. do not miss that.#anyway the point is #i've tasted vitality and niche fandom status(tm) and i hated both. and i just cannot do that to myself again #ergo #anon on ao3 and a blog to post my thoughts when i have them.#it's a nice system for me #i have some stuff on my main ao3 that toes the line of like. dark dead dove trash.#and i had antis get mad at me bc their fave fluffy fic was written by. gasp. a proshipper.#and yeah that soured me to existence on ao3.#getting into the rise of anti culture is a whole other discussion that'd have me going on for hours but i will shut up now.#wow this got long. i like to fucking talk don't i.

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thetomorrowshow · 3 months ago

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Whumptober 4 - Hallucinations

title: marked

fandom: empires smp

this is an alt pov of my fic hubris killed the god! i recommend reading it first

cw: blood, hallucinations, implied/referenced character death

Jimmy doesn't say a word when he feels something almost fuzzy brush against his wrist.

He just finishes drawing his chalk arrow and keeps going.

Pix isn't here. He's still clinging to a little shred of hope, the only thing that's stopping him from pulling the entire group out right now, the only thing keeping him from telling them he was touched.

If Pix was here, it all would have been worth it.

But Pix isn't here.

And the further they get, the clearer it is.

But there are plenty of those varmints around, and one of them appears out of nowhere to scare them, so Jimmy turns and makes a break for it, calling for them all to follow him.

He can't bear to let another one of them fall.

But he's too late.

When Shelby climbs onto the airship, the first thing she does is run to the staircase that leads to the stern, wedging herself in the little corner between the stairs and the captain’s cabin.

"I'm dying," she sobs, when Jimmy approaches her, hands out. "I'm going to die!"

"I know," he calls back, over the sound of the ship.

He doesn't know what else to say.

"I don't want to die," Shelby cries. Her hands tear at her face, at the place where a little red mark is already forming on her cheek.

Gently, Jimmy pulls her hands down, holding them in his own. She shakes, bends over just a bit, as if her body is trying to curl up without her input.

"We're here," he shouts, the wind whipping away his words. "We're not gonna leave. It's okay, we're right here with you."

"I didn't do anything wrong," she chokes out, tears running down her blotchy face.

Jimmy's heart twists.

She didn't. She only tried to survive.

He pulls her into a hug, sets his chin on her shoulder. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to do.

He just lets Shelby cry into his chest and stares at the wooden deck behind her.

Jimmy hugs all of them.

Quickly. Just a pat on the back, really.

But he hugs them. He hugs Shelby again, then Scott (Scott is close to tears, standing on his own by the railing), then Katherine (who stops in her pacing to acquiesce to an embrace). He takes the five steps up to the stern two at a time, hugs False briefly (she leans just slightly toward him), then heads belowdecks, to the little makeshift bed of False's.

That's when he checks for critters.

There aren't any. Of course there aren't.

But on his wrist is a tiny pink mark, an innocuous sign of the end. If he looks at it for long enough, it could just be a mark from pinching himself, a bruise about to form from bumping against a door jamb.

It isn’t that, though.

Jimmy has known for weeks that he's been living on borrowed time.

He started this. There was never any real hope that he would survive.

He's felt marked, almost.

Marked, ever since he stood over Joel's body, hands shaking and legs weak, covered from head to toe in the blood of a god.

He pushed his bloodsoaked hair out of his eyes, unable to look away from the tear down the god’s body from the enchanted axe that Jimmy had dragged from his collarbone to his waist.

Blood leaked from the bullet hole between Joel's eyes.

That had been the wound to take him out. He could have survived just the cleaving.

He was a god, after all.

Jimmy stared, even as dark clouds rolled in.

Even as the blood dried on his body.

Even as bile rose to his throat.

He stared, and with the first drops of rain, Joel's body began to go fuzzy around the edges of the wounds. Fuzzy and black, and Jimmy thought for a moment of mold before falling to his knees and vomiting.

And there he kneeled, trembling and ill, stained with blood and vomit, and screamed.

He screamed his apologies.

He begged the rumbling sky for restitution.

He buried his fists into the dry grass of the savannah, as his words dwindled hoarsely into nothing, and sobbed.

When nothing came, nothing but thunder and pouring rain, Jimmy hefted the crown off Joel's unmoving head and dragged it home.

Then he scrubbed the gore off his body, changed clothes, and replaced his hat on his head.

Despite the terrible storm, despite his people, Jimmy strapped the crown onto Bullseye and headed for Dawn.

Maybe Gem's god would pardon him.

But there had never been any pardon, had there?

It had all been a waiting game. It always had been.

Joel's blood marked him the first day.

And now, just like then, Jimmy can only stare.

He deserves this.

He deserves this, and he relishes in that.

He isn't stuck in that awful waiting phase, death looming over him like a dust storm over the horizon.

This can finally be over.

He can finally just be gone.

If there was anyone left to rescue, Jimmy would go do it now.

He's as invulnerable as he ever will be. It doesn't matter if they touch him. He could be in and out quicker than ever, able to defend without needing to worry about the vermin touching him.

But the only person to rescue is Shelby, and there's nothing he can do to help her.

All Jimmy knows to do is patrol. There isn’t anything else he can do, and everyone else is so busy with Shelby that they haven't been able to pick up their patrol shifts.

So Jimmy patrols, making sure nobody steps outside of the steadily shrinking border, keeping an eye on where the mites are piling up as a better reference point than their stakes in the ground.

He sees Scott, sometimes. Scott paces the border, marks precisely where it's changed, sometimes staring a long time out over the land beyond Sanctuary, as if he longs to leave from this place, as if he can see it as something of its former glory.

Jimmy does the same. He often finds himself wandering to his favorite place in all of Sanctuary, the flat boulder in the woods that looks out over the plains that remind him so much of the land where he grew up, before he was ever a sheriff in the beautiful mesa.

He can pretend that everything is normal, looking out there.

Sometimes, he can't see the darkness that runs through the grass.

Sometimes, he can see other things.

It's two days after the trip to the catacombs that Jimmy's forced to admit that the hallucinations are in full force.

He'd wondered morbidly, for some time now, what it was like. How long would it take to succumb to the illness? How gradual is the appearance of the hallucinations? How long until the fever starts?

He knows, now, that the hallucinations aren't gradual. He'd simply woken up by the campfire to find Lizzie standing before him.

"I can't believe you," she says disgustedly, arms crossed. "Sleeping on the job?"

"I'm dying, I think I deserve a bit of slack," he mutters. She scoffs.

"Why would you deserve slack? You caused this. You killed all those thousands of people."

Jimmy goes to say something—he isn't sure what—but Lizzie is gone.

After that, the hallucinations are frequent. He sees long-gone friends—Lizzie, Norman, Pix—and abandoned buildings, forgotten memories and lost messages, and . . . dark creatures of shadow.

It’s unsettling and deeply disturbing, but not even the most bone-chilling hallucinations can keep him from sleeping.

He's so tired. He's been digging himself deeper and deeper into sleep debt every night for weeks, and now he can't find the strength to push through it.

Jimmy sleeps. All the time, everywhere. By the campfire, slumped in a chair in the inn, at the table in the planning room of the church.

So often he wakes up on that boulder overlooking the plains, the rock warm under his back and the sun pleasantly shining through the leaves of the tree behind him.

His body starts to ache.

His bones start to weigh down with exhaustion.

His hands start to shake.

His body is fighting, he can tell. Trying to put off being sick as long as possible. Trying to conserve his strength for healing.

There isn't any healing to come.

The others are going into the Rift.

Well, Jimmy's meant to be going, too.

He'd proposed himself going (he had spoken to them, laid out the plan in exactly the way he thinks he would have, but it's hard to remember how to act like himself when there's gaping black maws where everyone's eyes should be), even though he isn't planning on it at all.

Scott is going.

He doesn't know it yet, but he's going through the Rift. The spark in his eyes hasn’t died yet, and despite every doubt he has and the mistakes he’s made, Jimmy knows that the others look up to him. They’ll follow him, more willingly than they had ever followed Jimmy.

Jimmy isn't sure how to change the plans right after he presents them, though, so he just leaves, back to lie on his boulder to watch the wind ruffle the grass.

The sun is gently warm on his face.

His hat slips back, flopping off his head.

He closes his eyes, just for a moment. It isn't sleeping.

His body's just so tired.

Time passes.

It must pass.

Because the next thing Jimmy knows, the sun is not on his face and there's a scratching noise from beside him.

He blinks his eyes open, casts his gaze around.

fWhip is sitting beside him, writing in a journal of some sort. That's the source of the scratching noise—his tiny pencil going back and forth on the page, scurrying like a little mouse.

"Sorry," Jimmy mumbles, biting back a groan as he sits up.

It's so hard just to sit up.

fWhip chuckles a little. "It's cool. Just glad you're getting some sleep."

Jimmy doesn't respond to that.

"You know, you've been running yourself into the ground. You deserve a second to rest."

Definitely not a hallucination, then. Seeing as his hallucinations tend to hate him.

"What are you writing?" Jimmy asks, in lieu of arguing about his sleep habits.

fWhip shrugs self-consciously. "Nothing much. Just journaling." He gestures around at the plains. "Describing Sanctuary, us, the things we're doing. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case . . . well, I dunno," fWhip says. "I keep imagining this scenario where we go through the Rift, and we end up in a different world, and we forget all of our history just two or three generations down. So I'm writing down all of this."

"Don't forget to mention Tumble Town," Jimmy says. "The most . . . uh, the best land for miles around."

fWhip shoots him a toothy smile. "Want to write something? I have pages for everyone."

Jimmy stares at his proffered pencil, then carefully takes it in his left hand, before transferring it to his right. He doesn't want his cuff to pull up even the slightest bit, revealing the mark on his wrist.

fWhip flips through his journal—a repurposed sketchbook, actually—until he finds the blank page he's looking for. He sets it in Jimmy's left hand.

"Just write anything. I'm planning on filling it in later with a bunch of biography type-stuff, but I can work around whatever you want to put."

Jimmy sets the pencil to the paper, willing his hand not to shake.

The Sheriff, he writes, in his quick, sharp cursive. Then, just below:

Jimmy.

It's not his best. It definitely doesn't look quite like it normally does, when he signs warrants of arrest or bank notes. Not as careful, the lines not as straight.

The J has a little divot in the line. The second h falters just the slightest bit.

He doesn't want to write anymore.

Or, rather, he doesn't have any more that he wants to write.

He slides the book back into fWhip's lap. "There," he says. "Now you can sell it for lots of money, it has my signature."

He can tell that fWhip's laugh is more to humor him than anything else.

"If I ever get Katherine's hands on this, absolutely," fWhip says. "I want her to draw everyone—have you seen her sketches? Like, in her workshop?"

Jimmy shrugs.

"She's actually really good. Scott, too. I just . . . don't know if I'll see Scott again, so. . . ."

He trails off with a bit of a cough.

Jimmy looks back over the fields.

He can't stay here.

He can't stay here, sleeping and aching and hiding until he dies.

He can't convince them to let him stay here. fWhip, at least, would insist on staying with him, and if Jimmy’s learned anything, it's that he wants his friends to survive.

He's going to have to leave.

"Actually, Katherine is what I came here for, I totally forgot!" fWhip snaps his journal shut. "She was wanting to talk to you. Do you wanna come back with me?"

"I'm sorry," Katherine says after a long moment.

Jimmy blinks. "Sorry? About what?"

She shrugs. "Pushing us to go look for Pix. If we hadn't gone for him. . . ."

For a foolish, hopeful second, Jimmy thinks she's referring to the death mark on his wrist.

Then he remembers that she doesn't know it exists.

She's talking about Shelby's condition.

"Don't worry about it," he tells her. "It was my fault."

"No—you didn't want to go, you—"

"But I let it happen," Jimmy cuts her off. "It was my fault, okay?"

He can take the blame.

What's another sin on top of ending the world?

Katherine frowns. "Are you sure? Because I know Scott's beating himself up over this, too. And if you really thought that it was your fault over his, you would go tell him."

Her face has gone from open, apologetic, to practically glaring at him.

And, really?

Jimmy absolutely deserves it.

"Sure," he says, trying not to let show the exhaustion dragging on his bones. "I'll talk to him."

Katherine nods.

She looks like she's sparkling.

She looks like she has wings.

It's long past midnight when Jimmy slips into the chapel.

Scott is there, he notices immediately—curled up and asleep on a pew near the entrance. Scott hasn't ever slept in his own bedroom, as far as Jimmy's aware. Every night when Jimmy checks on everyone, he finds Scott here, wrapped up in a blanket.

He ought to tell Scott that he's leaving. That he wants Scott to be in charge. That it was his fault.

But he can't bring himself to wake him.

The candlelight is low, and at the front of the chapel, muttering under his breath and holding his hands to a sleeping Shelby's head, is Sausage.

Even from afar, he looks exhausted. His hair falls limply into his face, his shoulders are slumped and his clothing is rumpled. He doesn't even look up until Jimmy is right beside him, spurs clicking all the way down the long aisle.

"You should rest."

"So should you."

"I'll wake Shelby, all right? She can hold down the fort for an hour or so."

"I feel close."

"You feel tired."

"And you don't?"

"This ain't about me."

"I can't. I can't go to sleep. I can't fail them."

"I reckon I understand. But this won't get fixed lest you take a rest. Just an hour."

". . . Okay. Pero, necesitas dormir también, okay?"

"I don't speak whatever that was."

"Stay here and rest a little. Just pretend like I'm giving a sermon, then it'll be easy to fall asleep!"

"Right. I'll wake Shelby."

fWhip never locks his room.

So it isn't hard for Jimmy to sneak in and tuck the Deputy Norman badge into his packed backpack.

Dawn breaks early the next morning, and Jimmy feels surprisingly lucid.

He feels like—no, he knows, somewhere deep within—his body is giving him a brief respite before it starts fighting the next stage of the illness.

Jimmy lingers outside the chapel, absently twisting his hat between his hands.

The others still have a day to prepare.

But Jimmy had packed his satchel with a bit of food, his waterskin, and a couple of papers with a pencil.

He's ready to leave.

He just has one person left to speak to.

As expected, Scott heads out from the inn to the church soon after dawn, likely having grabbed something quick to eat before returning to his self-imposed work of watching Sausage and Shelby.

Jimmy catches him by the shoulder.

His sleeve rides up just slightly. He hopes Scott doesn't notice the pink mark.

"Could you walk with me?" he asks quietly.

Scott glances uncertainly toward the church.

Then he nods.

Jimmy leads the way, and perhaps he can sense how unwell he truly is by the way his boots land a bit heavily against the dirt path and his legs feel almost too tired to pick his feet back up.

He probably has . . . a week, at most. Maybe a bit longer, if he takes it easy.

Right. Take it easy.

He doesn't want to leave.

He can't stay.

"Nice out," Scott comments, and Jimmy jumps.

He'd forgotten that Scott was there, or maybe assumed that he'd imagined him.

"Yeah, I guess," he says, looking around. "Bit warm for this early, but I ain't complaining."

It is a bit warm.

Sanctuary has had fairly warm temperatures the whole time they've been here, but the morning is usually more moderate.

Maybe there's a heatwave building up—one last hurrah of summer, before autumn properly takes over.

Sanctuary has been looking rather fall-like of late. Orange and yellow leaves making up the majority of the trees. It's quite pretty, really. Jimmy's never been to Sanctuary in the fall.

They pass under the trees, down the winding dirt footpath that Jimmy's trodden into the ground almost on his own (although there were remnants of it that he followed those first times), so many days and nights out patrolling the same line. He goes just beyond the trees, right to his favorite spot.

The boulder is almost wavering in the weak morning light.

Jimmy pauses beside it, looks out over the plains.

His view is framed by red leaves, and out beyond is rolling green-and-yellow grass, long and waving, the sky still such a young blue behind it. It looks like it hasn’t been devastated by the apocalypse. It looks calm, welcoming, lovely.

It looks so much like home.

"This is the most beautiful part of Sanctuary, I think," he murmurs.

Scott shifts beside him.

Right.

Time to delegate.

That's all he's doing. Delegating. Adjusting a former command.

Jimmy takes in a deep breath, then turns, looks Scott in his mismatched eyes. "I want you to go through the Rift," he says, willing his voice not to falter.

Scott blinks. "Sorry, what?"

Jimmy sighs, then sits on his boulder, tugging one knee up to his chest. How can he present this? "I'm not going," he says, and prays that Scott won't ask why. "I want you to take my place."

"Wh-why?"

Shoot.

Jimmy doesn't want to speak.

So he doesn't.

He looks out over the plains.

It isn't just his childhood that he misses, he supposes.

He's a cowboy. A traveler. He isn't meant to stay in one place for too long.

He's meant to feel the grass underfoot, and the wind through his hair, the dirt on his face and the sun on his back, fresh air in his lungs and a horse at his side.

Jimmy has a chronic case of wanderlust, and Sanctuary only grows smaller by the day.

"I can't do that," Scott says suddenly. "I—you're the leader, I can't—I don't—"

"Scott," says Jimmy, and it comes out smaller, softer than intended.

Jimmy can see, out of the corner of his eye, that Scott freezes.

"I'm not going. And they'll follow you. Even False will follow you, if you can convince her." False doesn't trust easily, if at all.

Jimmy doesn't think he ever really got her trust. Just her approval.

"But I can't go through the Rift."

"Why not?" Scott asks, nothing stubborn in his tone, nothing angry.

Jimmy can say he wants to find a way to protect everyone left.

He can say that he's going to go looking for Pix.

He can say that he left something important in Tumble Town, and he needs to go get it.

But Scott is a lover of truth. He’ll see through any lie that Jimmy tries to give him, so distrusting after everything he’s already put him through.

And honestly, he deserves the truth.

It's not going to be easy to say.

But Jimmy fixes his eyes determinedly on the horizon, and twists the loose button on his vest, and makes his choice.

"It was in the catacombs," he says, and he can't make his voice any louder than a near-whisper for some reason. "I was marking our path with chalk. And. . . ."

He can't say it.

Luckily, he doesn't need to.

Jimmy shakes back his right sleeve, just enough that death's mark shows.

Scott stares.

"I didn't know what to say," Jimmy says simply.

That's the most truthful of it all, isn't it?

"Not when we couldn't stop moving while we were down there. Not when Shelby needed comfort. Not when we needed to focus everything on her."

Jimmy supposes he ought to feel something about that—sadness that this is the end, that he'll never see his friends again. Or relief, that he can finally stop running. Or maybe even despair, knowing that there is nothing he can do to protect his friends anymore.

He doesn't feel any of that, though.

He mostly feels tired.

"We might be able to heal you," Scott suggests, and he sounds as tired as Jimmy feels. "If it works with Shelby, we can do it with you, right? We can just put off the Rift thing until you're both better."

Jimmy isn't going to get better.

He isn't going to give himself that chance.

"And if Shelby doesn't get better?" he asks.

Scott looks away.

He's about to say something placating. Something kind and fluffy, to make Scott feel better about not trying.

The truth. Jimmy needs to tell the truth, not soften the blows.

"I want to stay," admits Jimmy. The words tear from deep within, yet pull free almost easily—like tugging a barely-formed scab off a wound. "I do. But I can't. And maybe it's selfish, Scott, but I don't want them to know that . . . that I've been hiding this from them."

He doesn't want to face their anger, possibly their grief. He doesn't want them to force him to stay.

Because if they find out, and he's already gone, he'll be just another rescue mission.

Someone else could die.

And . . . he's kind of been lying to them this whole time.

People don't like being lied to.

"Like you hid the stuff about Joel from me," Scott's saying, and Jimmy grimaces.

"Yeah. I'm not really good with confrontations like that. You saw what happened. But I couldn't just leave without telling someone, you know?"

"So . . . you're leaving."

He is.

He has to.

"To—what, become like Oli? Instead of staying here, where we can help you . . . go peacefully, I guess?"

Jimmy shakes his head practically before Scott's done speaking. "I don't care much for the idea of staying in bed, all still and sick 'til it's over. I figure I'll just head out quietly, yeah? I already packed my bag. Just wanted to make sure someone could be in charge."

"I'm not a leader," Scott says, sounding a little bit panicked. "What about fWhip?"

Jimmy almost laughs. "fWhip's a follower. He gets too stressed to actually lead."

"Katherine?"

"I don't think she'll want to go through the Rift," Jimmy says thoughtfully. She'll want to stay with Shelby, he's sure of it. "She said she'd come, but I bet my bootstraps she'll back out last minute."

Scott opens his mouth, clearly about to suggest the next person in line.

"And not Gem, either," Jimmy cuts him off. "Scott, I chose you because you're the one who fought back when you thought I'd made a wrong choice. You spoke up. And not just then—you suggest your own plans all the time. You're a leader, even if you don't know it."

Scott doesn't respond to that.

Jimmy looks out over the plains. He can imagine that Scott is biting his lip, trying to think up some argument.

He can imagine that Scott has a lot of things he wants to say.

Somehow, Scott rarely ends up saying them.

After a moment, with a scraping of fabric against stone, Scott sits down beside him, quite gently leaning against him.

It's an invitation.

And he's so tired.

After a long moment, Jimmy lets his head fall onto Scott's shoulder.

It's peaceful, all quiet-like this early in the morning. The world feels almost sleepy, the sun rising but not blinding.

Gem worships the sun, to some extent. Her kingdom of Dawn revered its rising, held festivals and services in its honor. Jimmy understands why every time he watches it rise, every time he sees the orange glow that slowly spills across the darkened world, softly letting more and more light into the day to gradually pull the lands into consciousness.

The sun isn't going to be able to pull him with it.

He's going to die.

He's going to die before he ever feels fully awake again.

He's never going to be entirely conscious before he sleeps forever.

“You should go.”

The voice belongs to Lizzie, he thinks. Or Pix. Or Oli.

“It’s time to go.”

That one belongs to Joel.

Jimmy swallows, gathers every bit of consciousness and strength that he can find, then pulls away from Scott, stretching.

“I should probably head out before the town wakes up,” he tells Scott, and he can see his eyes, mismatched and conflicted, through the shadow that tries to darken them. “Get away before anyone can stop me.”

“Sure. What do you want me to tell them?”

He wants Scott to tell them goodbye. He wants them to know that he loves them, that if he deserved any better he would stay.

But he won’t put that on them.

He tells Scott to convince them that he deserted them. He tells Scott he’s leaving without any sense of direction, that he’s going to go out there and hope for the best.

He doesn’t tell Scott goodbye, either.

He deserves better than that.

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