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@hallucineugenics-a
𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦? ❝ 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. ❞
𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 of Resident Evil Village. Lovingly penned by Thistle. Independent, Semi-Selective, Mutuals Only. OC & AU & Crossover Friendly. Slightly canon divergent. Low activity. Heavily features dark themes such as horror, mental Illness, ableism, violence, manipulation, drug abuse, gore and trauma. Please read the carrd prior to interacting. You can find the interest tracker here. Love you Sweetie <3 xo
This blog has moved!!
You can find Donna and Angie over at @hallucineugenics now.
This is an archive and won’t be deleted.
Feel free to unfollow as I will have this reminder reblogged a few times.
This blog has moved!!
You can find Donna and Angie over at @hallucineugenics now.
This is an archive and won’t be deleted.
Feel free to unfollow as I will have this reminder reblogged a few times.
// Thanks for all the advice every1! I’ve decided to remake Donna and she’s the same url @ hallucineugenics . its still v bare so i’ll b over there updating things and getting my booty in gear and figuring out how i want 2 do things. thanks again u guys rule i hope 2 see u over there 2 :)
readmore for lil bad vibes
:readmore:
// hi hi every1. I'm at a bit of an impasse. Im not rly v happy w my donna portrayal atm. I can't put a finger on why but it just doesn't feeeel like her yknow??? I'm considering remaking my blog and starting fresh but I've been on the fence abt it 4 like a week. I /hate/ dropping threads and I'd feel rly bad about it bc I love all of them I just look at my donna writing like blehhh i just feel so meh abt it.
What do u guys think??? I can't make a decision either way hhhy
// hello frens I'm still alive! My donna muse has been rly low but I hope I'll be back on here soon bc I rly want 2 write. U can find me on disco.d so if we're mutuals don't don't afraid 2 ask. Miss u guys lots 💖😭
Jura, France by Peter Bucks
By Nabetse Zitro
when the meeting with the other lords got u like
plus bonus angie
Quick drawing for practice
fcrrokinetic:
He had to admit, he was surprised she actually did it.
He studies her exposed face, watching the way the Cadou wriggles about. Hideous. It’s amazing, though, how even with that wretched thing bursting out of her skull, the rest of her face has remained pretty… Beautiful, even, if he were being honest.
A shame Miranda had to go and ruin it, just as she had ruined him, and everything else she fucking touched.
She draws closer, and when she speaks, he laughs at her attempt to be threatening.
“Anger doesn’t suit you, Donna,” he chides, with the air of one speaking to a child. “It looks much better on Angie.” There’s a pause, a moment too long, before one gloved hand raises, and all at once every window in the room is shuttered with a bang, thanks to the application of a magnetic field to the hinges. Why shouldn’t he? He has nothing to hide, beyond the threat of a migraine.
“Is that what you want? Fine.” The hat is removed first, tossed haphazardly back onto a table behind him, then the sunglasses are removed, folded and tucked into a shirt pocket. Green eyes meet the chocolate brown of Donna’s good eye, but there is no real tenderness there– instead, the Iron Lord seems to be issuing a challenge. Try me, Donna Beneviento. Test your will against mine, and we will see who comes out on top.
“As you can see… I have nothing to hide… Unlike some. I would advise you remember who it is you’re speaking to, the next time you’re thinking of making an empty fucking threat.”
The sudden bang of shutters made Donna flinch, her eye snapped shut and brows furrowed. She could feel the electric tang in the air like some animal can catch the scent of rain before the downpour. It was an incredible power that Karl claimed, one that could cave her skull in an instant if he was so inclined. However, his behaviour, his mockery, did not deserve a space in her home. Donna shook like a leaf as she spoke but held her ground regardless.
"Empty, is it? Do you forget where you are? That the very air you breathe is infested with my power? Might I have you dancing on my strings if I do desire it, by my Lord given gifts."
Her eye opened slowly, blinking away the last remnants of tears and examining Karl's now bared face. His eyes were hard chips of dirty emerald. Superior. Wrathful. Her tentative index finger traced along his craggy features, from temple to jawline, feeling each raised scar and brush of stubble. There was an incredible desire within Donna to kiss that foul mouth again. To suck poison from the wound even as it made her ill. Her body shifted forward into his heat, greedy for it, her voice lowered to a breathy whisper.
"What will it be then, Lord? Will you have all of me? My anger? My threats? Or do you fancy to squirm on the floor until morning breaks or you scratch your eyes from your skull, whichever comes first?”
shireentheunburnt:
“Hello, Miss Angie, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Shireen dipped her head to the doll respectfully. Had she been standing, she would have curtseyed. Her gaze fell to her charred figure, eyes darkening with a pain and grief so deep it might one day drown her… “I understand. Sometimes, a stranger can bring such cruelty, can’t they?” she asked softly, half to herself. “And… ruin everything…”
The child gasped slightly, as though coming back to herself, when Donna spoke to her. Blinking a few times, she raised her head to look towards the Lord, her hair falling away from her scarred cheek… “Anything you wish, my lady, if it is to make you happy…” She could clean and sew, read and write, and was an exceptionally quick learner. Any chore she was given, the girl would do as well as she could. More than that, Shireen did not wish loneliness on anyone, Lord or not…
“Mn.... That thing you have... let me see it.”
Donna was referring to the wooden stag clutched in Shireen’s grip. It intrigued her almost as much as the deformation that marred the girl’s features, a strange affliction she had never seen before. Had Shireen been gifted a Cadou from Miranda and it too had rejected its host? Many questions. Lucky for them they had all the time in the world.
The Lord reached out with an open palm toward Shireen as Angie scurried to her side, face cocked to examine what wooden creature Shireen was holding.
“Does it have a name?”
Luís Almeida
king-crane:
The Scarecrow had never thought himself to be in such a small town. His studies, in the pursuit of visceral fear, had brought him chasing the trail of numerous bioweapon incidents throughout the globe. Throughout his career he had stumbled upon many gruesome sights.
And yet, when he tracked down what he had thought the source of it all, he felt… bliss. Peace. A small village in Romania with so many prime subjects, Crane had been able to get to work. He had set up shop on the outskirts, luring and dosing these… ‘Lycans’. Animalistic as they were, they weren’t brainless. All sentient beings knew fear. It had taken almost nothing for him to manipulate them, and like a puppeteer, he easily had them singing his tune.
It was how he had stumbled upon the dollhouse. Not a literal dollhouse, no, but a mansion belonging to the Lady Beneviento, inhabited by many, many dolls and figures. He had been, at first, put off by it all, but when he met the Lady, he found himself quietly pleased.
Their weeks of mutual comfort and study had been wondrous, but he knew he’d have to leave soon. Gotham called for its premier master of fear; he could hear the cries of his city from half the world away.
And yet, young Matthew laid out on the table beneath him, sadly clotheless. Crane had been working on an outfit – suspenders and trousers and cute little shoes, when he felt a strange sensation wash over him.
First, fear. Then… nothing.
Crane turned to look at Donna, only barely noticing the slight mist that had crept into the mansion. He stood fully, nearly eclipsing the woman before him. Crane approached.
Cautiously.
“Feel what, Donna?” His voice was soft as silk, his whispered question gentle as a breeze.
“No!”
Donna blurted, already her voice cracking under the enormity of her emotions as she took five quick steps backwards, the door now a shield that she cowered behind. The Lord, unbefitting as her title was, sniffled at the sudden onset of tears. It was simply not fair. He ought to be squirming on the floor, hands batting away invisible assailants as she moved to lock the door. Not this... banality. This complete and utter disarming of her powers.
Donna felt incredibly vulnerable in that moment and, in turn, incredibly afraid. Fear made rational thought, as rare as that was for her, rather difficult. Ought she beg for forgiveness? Flee? Hide? Spit further venom? Donna did none of this, opting instead to blabber her grievances to presumably soon to be very angry ears.
“No, no, no, no, NO! You are meant to see what I want you to see. To feel as I do! You are not to leave this house. I forbid it.”
The woman lurched forward, shunting the door closed and pressing her back against its surface in some ridiculous notion that she might trap the giant within. Her home was as rotten as she was and all it would take was a solid boot to its centre panel to splinter the door into a million pieces. Still, her conviction was firm as she shivered against the surface, words the hurried prattling of the mad.
“I don’t want to be alone again. You cannot do this to me. I’ll drown in it and then you’ll be sorry. Sorry you left me to die here. This place will be my grave. It’s only a matter of time.”
// look what my boyfriend got me 😭
fcrrokinetic:
Oh dear god she was actually talking about the fucking dolls.
He fought back the urge to roll his eyes, especially when she started on about inanimate objects having ‘personalities’…. Every single time he thought he could get over Donna being batshit fucking crazy she pulled something like this…
Remember the plan, Karl. Befriend the wench. Harness her power. Kill Miranda.
“Mother Miranda tends to zero in on only one aspect of things… It is her greatest shortcoming, despite her wondrous power.” He fought back the urge to vomit at his own words. He hated this little act, the song and dance he had to do around the others to keep them in the dark. “She sees the work I have done at the factory because it billows smoke and flame, screaming and bleeding before her very eyes. It blinds her to other things worthy of her attention. There is just as much potential for destruction in a slowly smoldering ember as there is in a spark, given the proper environment.”
He chose his words carefully. He was treading in dark water and he knew it; there was no telling when exactly the sharks might attack…
He takes a drink of his coffee as though attempting to sequester that part of the conversation away, locking it in the ruined, snow-covered bathroom down the hall to be revisited later, when he could bend and twist it into something that better suited his purposes.
Angie is reaching for a sweet from the metal tea tray; her tiny arms stretching, falling just short of her goal. Karl smiles, and the tray slides several inches closer to the doll untouched. This part should be easy. Gaining Donna’s trust, establishing himself in Angie’s good graces… He was already chalking both of those pieces of the plan up as wins. But turning them against Miranda would take far more time, and it was not a subject he was prepared to broach today.
“You know… I have a foundry, back at the factory. It’s small, but… Given a sample piece, if you needed some parts cast for the dolls.. Hinges, joints, things like that… I could make them for you.”
“Mn-.”
Donna’s head lilted to the side ever so slightly. Listening to his words and storing them away for later pondering. And they were ponderous. For all her shortcomings Donna had at least the self awareness to know of her status as a miserable, worthless child. What did Karl see in her that Miranda didn’t? The dolls perhaps? Her innate artist’s touch? Her kindly spirit? Doubtful, but it was curious.
Angie on the other hand, was not one for pondering. Her desires were simpler and the invisible push to the sweets tray would have split her porcelain face with a grin if she had the capacity to smile. Her prize, a freckled cookie, was snatched and crammed into her jaw, crumbs spat outward as she squawked.
“DO IT AGAIN! MAKE IT MOVE, MAKE IT MOOOOVE!”
Donna had little time herself to process the party trick when, once again, Karl piled on this sudden and strange generosity. The Lord was speechless for a moment, her outstretched hand withdrawing to pick at its twin.
“...first I am delighted by your company, then you pledge to fix my neglected restroom including sourcing the materials, design and labour yourself, then you deign to compliment me and now you offer to aid in my craft...”
She rose stiffly, closing the distance between them in two smooth strides and eased forward as if she might rest her palm on his forehead. Her fingers halted at the brim of his hat, a clear boundary, and so they shifted to awkwardly hover above his shoulder.
“...Are you feeling well? Has some illness claimed you? I am versed in herbal remedies of many varieties if they are needed...”
She chewed on her words now, unwilling to even broach the barrier of being disagreeable.
”...You are... if I may be so bold.. acting rather... odd.”
