#Miranda hallucination

[pulsingvoid]

I was mistress to you when you needed love. I was wife to you when you needed understanding. But first and before all, I was mother. / My daughter was my sister was my throw pillow—

[keepitdreamin]

Black sails tarot part 4 (1, 2, 3, 5)

temperance was also one of my favorites to make. i just really loved fiddling with all the illustration bits to make it look good and this one worked really well

[highlifeboat]

Okay, so i was thinking about Lords' phones. Those lines must be ancient. They were probably like first phone lines to be made in village, between lord's families, way before Miranda took over. There was a plan to eventually extend them to every house, but that's when Miranda happened and she just never bothered :p

Also, I think those phones can work for casual conversations, it's just lors don't really have that much to say to each other.

Plus, Miranda probably can listen on they conversations :p

Yeah, that's kind of what I mean.

Alcina and Donna don't allow their staff to use the phones for that exact reason (Also because they really shouldn't have any need for them anyway), it isn't a secure line. They can dial to reach a specific Lord but that doesn't mean Miranda can't just randomly pick up on her end and listen in. Which is another reason the Lords don't typically call each other just to converse.

Elizabeta has probably been told to never answer the phone. Donna would rather just deal with whoever is on the other end by herself, even if she does have Angie speak for her. (Granted I feel like Miranda just kind of talks at Donna and then asks if she understands)

Miranda probably doesn't think the Villagers need phone lines. It's kind of another way of keeping them below the "higher ups", but also they've been functioning without them since Miranda was a child. The Village hasn't changed much since then. Why would they need them now? It's not important enough for her to bother with.

(Also, even though Alcina actively discourages the girls from using the phone, if she ever needs to call someone she probably needs one of them to dial for her. I mean, I assume they use rotary phones, and she's probably not getting her finger in there to dial herself.)

[daydream-draws]

SECOND. pls tell me more about pjo luke who Is this man why did he steal the lightning bolt . i just. i need to know. but watched the first two episodes of it on tuesday and OUGH day... this is shaping up to be close to a series of unfortunate events level fairly good adaptation???? i amso excited both for u and myself i literally don't know what's going on but they're SO FUN. my sources tell me that your guys are accurately unhinged this time so!!!!!!!!!

LUKE PJO MY BELOVED my friend played him when they were in the lightning their musical fun fact :D so I am a Luke fan now even tho 12 year old me hated him😭 but he like hated the gods for being terrible to their kids and was also being manipulated by Kronos ?? so he did nothing wrong in my eyes tbh I love villains who aren’t really villains and very insane I’m soooo pumped to see the betrayal in live action 4k

I AM SO EXCITED this is gonna be so fun for us and they casted such a good main three yippeee I’m so excited

[royalreef]

@fullcfphobias || Continued from here.

She reacts in slow motion, all in her head and face, a sort of slow roll back, eyes wobbling in her head like marbles, lips tensing. A merfolk gesture, at its core, something old and deep and carved into the annuals of instinct, indecipherable to anyone else who wouldn't be able to tell it from any other muscle twitch.

Oz is too close. Her thoughts come disconnected and beheaded, strung out in chunks so that they occur and she cannot trace them backwards or ahead, only exist within them. They are far too close. They shouldn't be this close, too close, too near to her scales and her skin and her face. Fear floods in, hot and furious and speaking nothing of where it came from, that they would touch her.

She couldn't tolerate it. Wouldn't tolerate it. She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't, the ghosts of touch and of hands lingering over her scales, possessive, possessing her, algae film stinging her with caustic touch no matter how much she flailed and kicked. It sticks in her joints, in the bend of her elbows, where her scales are thin and her skin shows through, and she simply cannot tolerate this.

The memory is there before Oz ever touches her, before they ever speak a word, a twitch of muscle deep in her skull and in her throat, a pornographic roll of her tongue and throat, vomit that sticks in her esophagus before she can even be sick on the floor. This is all an act in misery. This is all a ghost of pain. Everything exists and then it doesn’t. She blinks out, blinks in, straddles the midline of existence and finds it unable to bear, trying to become something she’s not, something she’ll never be.

“Turn around, Oz. Close your eyes. Go home.” Her body protests in absence of her mind, of anyone at the helm to guide her. The collar of her attire sticks to her throat, and she knows its her own blood coating the pseudo-velvet down against her scales, a waste of her official dress for duties of the throne’s attention, but she cannot make this mean anything. There’s still blood caterpillar crawling down from the tender behind of her jaw, her fins, the place where her gills punch straight through into her throat, and she can feel chunks creeping outwards. She does not mention these. She does not think at all what they are. She does not think at all.

She is Crown Princess Miranda Vanderbilt. She is Crown Princess Miranda Vanderbilt. She is Crown Princess Miranda Vanderbilt.

She is a gesture and a tool, an implement of forged steel and bent wire and carved bone, hollow and vapid and perfect. She is something Oz will never be. She is made immaculate, refined and honed and sharpened, and there are pieces of her gills, soft and spongy as her lungs, falling out of herself and splattering over her nice white breast piece.

It’s very nice, isn’t it? Lovely, really. This piece of attire isn’t at all like her typical sundress, nor even her flowery and attractive pieces that she might typically flounce about in. It’s structured like a suit, maybe, in the abstract, although the details err. Nice thick fabric, cut into square pieces. Lovely embroidery work. There’s a chain of gold links crossing over her chest, over her white fabric with its pearly little buttons, and there’s a golden badge pinned somewhere to her side — she’s forgotten where — with her family’s insignia on it. It’s harder to move in this than how she usually likes, turning her gestures hard and doll-like where it refuses to bend anywhere but the joints, close to her body, snipping her movements in half.

She doesn’t know where she is either, but that’s fine too. It’s fine. It’s done. It’s completed. Just make them stop looking at her. Make them stop looking at her. Make them stop touching her. They are touching her, right? She can feel someone touching her. She doesn’t want them to be touching her, but there are hands, all the same, walking up and down over her throat and her chest and her arms. She wants them to stop. Please stop. Please. It’s all she has left, all she can do. Please stop touching her. She can’t make them stop touching her. She can’t make the sensation go away, no matter how hard she tries, no matter how hard she looks for it, possessive and deserving and shaping all the same.

She’s forgotten who she is.

She is Crown Princess Miranda Vanderbilt.

She is Crown Princess Miranda Vanderbilt.

She is Crown Princess Miranda Vanderbilt.

“You do not have to see what is here. You do not have to look at it. You do not have to understand this. Just turn back. Just turn back. Go back home. Shut your eyes. Forget what you saw.”

Someone is moving her mouth, and she wants to vomit at the sensation of swallowing, of the thick bobbing and wet slap that the back of her throat makes, the way her tongue presses up against the roof of her mouth, all those wet ridges and the pinch of spincter muscles and the sting of acid as it crawls up from the grave of her stomach. Her eyes stay focused, somewhere. She forgets where. She doesn’t know what her body’s doing. She hates the way her mouth feels, to mouth, to breathe, to speak.

“You can ignore it. If you stay, you can not ignore it. You will have to look at it. Just go home. Go home. Forget you saw this. Nothing will change if you do not make it.”

[mayybirds]

I’m not the biggest fan of Mia but she’s been done so dirty by capcom. Even I think she deserves better.

It really does say a lot tho in my mind that even those of us who don't like Mia much are still like "yo Capcom there's so much you could be doing with this character why tf are you both wasting and screwing her over like this".

[crushed-oranged-angered]

Man, Season 20 Grey’s Anatomy, giving me fun soap opera levels of drama again in a television fun-soap-opera-levels-of-drama desert

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

the woobification of the lords is something ill never be able to wrap my head around 😭 its insane to me how people can have such a horrible interpretation of events and characters based off of what we have in the actual game

let me start off by saying that ALL FOUR LORDS DID HORRIBLE THINGS (INCLUDING THE DIMITRESCU DAUGHTERS) !

lady dimitrescu isnt some gentle giant who only hates men and loves women and treats them like queens and she just loves living a quiet life with her daughters, she kills and tortures people 😭😭 she like actively killed her maids and drank their blood 😭 they have a basement that has so much blood in it that it goes up to ethans THIGHS

they are muderous and SADISTIC, including the daughters

the woobfication of the dimitrescu daughters is always the most confusing to me. their faces are literally covered in BLOOD 😭😭 they chase ethan around and stab him will laughing and giggling, cassandra literally calls it a HUNT, it is fun to them and they enjoy it

people always try to frame it as ethan breaking into their homes while they are scared and afraid 😭 i can assure you that nobody is afraid of him at first 😭 they dont think hes an actual threat, thats why they toy with him. and dont act like they were unaware of what he wanted. they were all present at the family meeting with miranda, they were all present when they JARRED rosemary 😭 they know what ethan wants, they know who ethan is, to frame them as "minding their own business" is the most absurd interpreation you could make of them

they were all involved, they all knew what he wanted, and they all HAD what he wanted

you can feel sympathy for lady D, when she cries for her daughters with tears in her eyes, she loved them, they were her family, but you cannot deny the hypocrisy. "how can you kill my daughters for your own!" you have his daughters head in a pickle jar! her daughters werent innocent defenless babies who were scared of big ol ethan stomping around in their house, they have weapons! they wanted to hurt him, and they did, and when he fought back he won

i cannot stress enough that in every single fight, ethan is not the first to strike. he is either backed into a corner where its either his life or theirs, or he is literally being tortured/ chased around, what do you want him to do? these people have pieces of his baby, should he have lied down and died?? 😭

whenever ethan is in a situation where the other person isnt stabbing him in the abdomen 100 times he tries to HELP them 😭 he tries to help absoulute strangers of a village he doesnt even know while he knows his own daughter is missing, even when the stranger is also a jerk to him 😭 he wants allies, he isnt actively trying to make enemys, and before you cry "karl heisenberg!" im getting there...

the thing that bothers me with how people treat donna is that although she isnt the WORST she gets woobfied the MOST imo, like she is the ONLY lord (other than karl but hes a outlier because he wanted ethan to come over so they could make out on his bed) who actively lures ethan in, miss dimitrescus, yeah sure u could say that he trespassed, same with moreau, but donna literally LURES HIM IN with hallucinations of his DEAD WIFE, then OPENS THE DOOR for him and TAKES HIM DOWN THE ELEVATOR

she is literally one of the people who ACTIVELY leads him to where she is

she also uses psychological puzzles , like making ethan perform surgery on a wooden doll of his wife and making him run away from a monster that cries like a baby and calls him "dada" 😭 she did not need to do any of that... like at all 😭 she did it because she wanted to 😭 she is by no means innocent at all

she toyed with him for literally no reason other than her own desire and then ethan doesnt even intentionally kill her. he is in a situation where is his trapped in the house and has to find angie, the doll, to avoid being attacked by dolls with like 100 knives stapled onto them

its only when he defeats angie its revealed that he had actually stabbed DONNA. he didnt even intentionally kill her 😭

then moreau... poor moreau... 😭

moreau in my opinion is one of the more sympathetic lords. whoever he was in his life pre cadou has no influence or impact on his life post cadou, the cadou just wrecked his brain functions

all he is is just mirandas minion at this point, he only wants to please her and doesnt really think about anything else for himself 😭

i dont have much to say about moreau because theres not really many people who woobfiy him or pay him any attention really 😭 though i will say he was very unabashedly evil 😭 he did horrible things, such as eating the fishermen and his experiments with the cadou on the villagers, he did it for mirandas approval but its not a excuse for it, hes still a villian 😭 now we are onto karl.... this guy... the woobification of him is insane 😭 first of all, something i dont see people acknowledge is that he actually HAS killed villagers! no he doesnt just use dead bodies (which btw isnt really a step up 😭 some of u set the bar too low man) the lycan gauntlet that he made ethan run through? yeah, he used that before! he has an entire PA system set up in it! he has lights and huge spikey metal death traps! he did not make all of that just for ethan just to "play appearances" for miranda. there were other people who went through that. and they DIED!

their deceased bodies are still in there! karl is messed up and eccentric 😭 it makes him fun, let him be messed up and evil 😭 and yes, karl used DEAD bodies instead of killing people who were alive, so surely that makes him far less evil right?

WRONG! 😭

HE CONSIDERED USING LIVE BODIES FOR THE SOLDATS 😭

karl really isnt a good person, he has reasons for the things he does, he wants to take down miranda and i dont think hed be creating undead zombies in the first place if it werent for her ruining his life but that isnt justification, its just an explanation for why he does what he does. he has a sympathetic back story and motives but you cant erase what he did, hes a villain! he tries to use a baby as a weapon!!! all 4 of the lords are villains, and instead of making other characters worse to uplift your favorite character that did something bad, you can just accept that the character you like did bad things 😭 they are all fictional, if i like moreau it does not mean i endorse eating fishermen 😭 you can like a character that is flawed, or evil, or did insanely messed up things because its RESIDENT EVIL. they are EVIL! they do bad things! like im sorry! but if your fave has a villains wiki it probably means they did some bad things! 😭

i wish people would be able to enjoy a character without entirely dismissing the bad things they did. its okay to like a character that does bad things, its ok to find them interesting and fun! but you cant deny what actually happens in games to try and make them appear as innocent. you dont have to justify every little thing that they do, just accept them as a whole!

of course this doesnt apply to AUs or just posting for fun. you can change media to be what you want to make it more fun. im going to draw lady dimitrescu treating ethan like a unwanted family pet. does that mean that i think she would really do that in canon? no! she would bite him and then tie him up like a pinata and give her daughters blindfolds and bats!

but people need to be able to recognize that fanon is NOT canon.

this post is about canon interpretations,

this is just addressing people who genuinely believe that those kinds of portrayals of the character is an ACCURATE portrayal, because its not.

[seraphdesire]

Regarding Donna Beneviento and her characterisation in the fandom, I think it's important to note that she really isn't the shy awkward adorable blushing mess that everyone depicts her as being.

This got long but I did a mildly extensive read on her character under the break! :)

Here are the notes I took a screencap of, written by Mother Miranda, which talks about the suitability of Donna being a vessel for Eva:

There's the evidence you need that she is severely mentally ill, so babying her just feels... wrong anyway, all things considered.

Note - "and has divided her Cadou among her dolls in order to control them from a distance." While I'm on my 3rd replay of re8 I still don't fully get how the Cadou works, but what I think is essentially happening is Donna is literally splitting off parts of herself and putting them in her dolls.

The main one being Angie, of course.

I always used to consider Angie a separate character entirely but she's linked deeply to Donna on a very personal level. Considering what she's like and what all the other dolls are like - loud, funny, sarcastic, rude, etc - and how Donna is literally the one directly controlling Angie (that's the only way she moves lol, because Donna is carrying her places. Which is also why, when you kill Angie, the illusion melts away to reveal that you've actually killed Donna), I think it's safe to say that's what her actual personality is like.

Also, her only spoken line of dialogue? Please listen to it. For those who are hard of hearing, like me, she says: "don't leave... I can't let you."

Bearing in mind the way she speaks? Her tone? She sounds confident imo. Determined. And perhaps even a little angry at Ethan for thinking he can escape her.

Just a last addition as well, can I say that her abilities as one of the Four Lourds is genuinely evil? Everyone else has physical intimidation - Alcina has her height and her claws and mutation, Heisenberg has his ability to control magnetic fields and metal, and Moreau can mutate into that huge fish-with-legs thing that vomits something akin to acid? Oh yeah and he can swallow you whole too.

Donna, on the other hand, doesn't have physical intimidation like that. She only has the threat of psychological damage (which makes sense considering she's severely mentally unwell). When Ethan goes through her gardens and has to solve the puzzles in the house, she makes him hallucinate about his wife whom he thinks is dead, and about his baby who is somewhere in this unknown country with a bunch of mutants who only have bad intentions.

It's even worse in the Shadows of Rose DLC imo. As Rose, Donna makes her hallucinate the bullies from back home, being called a freak and a weirdo, made to relive the worst moments of her life. And the puzzles too? Hell. Having to actually recreate the scenes of her bullying with wooden fucking dolls. I remember feeling really sorry for Rose while playing through that part.

And yet Donna is still "the uwu baby" because what? I don't know. People love to declaw female villains just because they're attractive (looking at Lady Dimitrescu here). They love to reduce the characters down to their looks and not consider their actual lore or background or the role they play in the franchise (looking at Leon especially...)

Which, ya know, of course people are allowed their headcanons for characters and Donna doesn't get enough screentime to really have her personality even thought of, let alone to be made canon. But I think it's fair to say that Angie and Donna are basically one and the same because they're literally the same Cadou.

This is a quick reminder that you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me. Everyone has their own opinions and that's fine. If you would like to politely debate about this in my comments or in my DMs, or even in my asks, then you're more than welcome to! Please remember debating and arguing are two different things though.

If it really irks you that bad then please scroll, it's not hard. If you don't want to do that then feel free to block me - the button is free of charge after all and should be used more to cultivate your feed to your liking.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

My beautiful, stupid maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 5,080

Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

I thought I like to be alone.

Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.

I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.

Angie was everything I needed.

I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.

To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.

At least I thought I didn't need anything else.

Then you showed up.

“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.

None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.

The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.

You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.

Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.

I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.

I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.

“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.

Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.

My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.

What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.

Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.

That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.

Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?

I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?

I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.

“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.

That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.

One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.

I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?

“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.

I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.

“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.

“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.

Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.

“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”

I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.

“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.

“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.

Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.

The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.

I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?

“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”

“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…

“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.

Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.

Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.

I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.

But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.

Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.

I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.

“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.

“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.

“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”

“What?” I said startled.

I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.

She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.

Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?

Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.

Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.

You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.

I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.

You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.

“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.

“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.

“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.

A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?

“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.

“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”

“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.

I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.

I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.

My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.

The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…

Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...

One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.

That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.

My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.

I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.

My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.

Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.

I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.

In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.

It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”

Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...

A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?

But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.

The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.

You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.

One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.

“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.

As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.

My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.

If you want something from her, just take it.

The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.

My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.

I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.

You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.

An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.

“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.

“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.

When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?

Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.

Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?

I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.

Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.

You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.

“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.

Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.

I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.

Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...

I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.

My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.

I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.

I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?

Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.

Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?

When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.

 You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.

You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.

I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.

You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.

“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.

“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.

Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.

“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.

My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.

I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.

You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?

“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.

“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.

“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.

I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.

[burningvelvet]

flint murdering countless people, going back on his word, and burning an entire city down all because miranda asked him to... flint and miranda getting revenge together by murdering their mutual lover's homophobic parents... flint calling miranda "my woman, my friend" to his crew... flint calling miranda "my sweet" during their argument... flint raving to miranda about eleanor being a strong female leader... flint verbally and physically defending miranda from sexist men more than once even to the peril of his own career... flint and miranda having sex in a carriage... miranda inviting flint as her date on a museum trip... flint bringing miranda a book inscribed to her with "i'm sorry"... miranda bringing flint a book where their lover inscribed it to him with "know no shame"... flint and miranda bonding over books and mutual sorrows... flint hallucinating about miranda and his subconscious version of her telling him that she is his "mistress, wife, mother" and encouraging him to keep going as his guide in life... miranda taking care of flints wounds... flint listening to miranda play music... miranda encouraging flint not to care what anyone thinks and to be unashamed about being queer... miranda exposing flint to intellectual ideas... miranda and flint having tea together... miranda insisting on going with flint on his trip... miranda and flint being domestic... miranda and flint being parental toward abigail... flint asking miranda if everything was okay at ashe's house and her lying to him... flint telling miranda that his only regret was listening to her and then immediately afterwards listening to her about several major decisions... miranda telling him she regretted not taking a more active role in their life together... miranda telling him "if we're going to be partners, then we should be partners"... flint and miranda not being on speaking terms but him letting her ride him and then putting his arms around her when she's done and waiting until her afterglow has faded to go back to arguing... miranda always being the one to initiate sex in all of her sex scenes/implied sex scenes...

[warlenys]

the absolute whiplash of the beginning of house md season six. we open with two hour long broken focusing on house’s pain and addiction and wrecked mental state. he falls in love. he raps with lin manuel miranda. he loses his love. his actions make a guy jump off a building and break every bone in his body. second episode’s called epic fail. patient hallucinates weird monkey video game in the hospital lobby. thirteen makes a quip about house’s food tasting better than pussy. house and wilson spend an entire scene making ball jokes. third episode chase murders a genocidal dictator. no other show is doing this

[ashbeneviento]

Hello, Evil Residents :)

I’d like to introduce you all to my Village OC (who was amazingly brought to visual light by my good friend @crowquillustrate on insta🖤)

OC: Datura

Named after the sacred Datura flower (Hallucinogenic and possibly deadly if ingested improperly)

Age: 27/Immortal

Physical Characteristics: 5’3, Pale skin, Long wavy brown hair, Hazel Eyes. Has a scar that travels under her eye down to her neck from a Lycan Attack.

Background: Datura grew up on a farm just outside the Village with her parents and little brother Sebastian. When she was 18 a pack of rogue Lycans destroyed her home, killing her mother and brother first. Datura was attacked but her father sacrificed himself to save her, leaving her to fend for herself.

Mother Miranda took her in for a few years before sending her over to work for Donna.

Personality: Datura is hard headed but kind hearted. She immediately bonded with Angie, who reminds her of her little brother. It takes her a while to get used to Donna though, who always seemed to hide herself away from her. Datura CAN be cruel, especially when she feels disrespected. Does she go a little overboard sometimes? Yes, yes she does.

Hobbies: Datura likes taking walks at night, despite Donna’s wishes. (She’s worried for her safety) She’s a painter, a violinist, sometimes she likes playing the piano as well but she would rather listen to Donna play instead. She picked up on scientific hobbies from her stay with Mother Miranda, and likes to experiment with tea making/making medicine for the Village folk. Hunting.

Sexuality: Datura is sapphic but doesn’t really have a preference other than Donna. Would consider her grey ace. Likes to explore new things in the bedroom but would rather spend her time watching vintage romance movies and cuddling up to her love.

Relationships: Partner, Donna obviously.

She likes spending the night at Alcina’s and has a soft spot for Cassandra. She loves hunting so she brings the Dimitrescus the finest of her catches.

Karl reminds her of her father but hates visiting his factory (bc of the Lycans) but she learns to love them eventually.

Sal loves when she visits the reservoir. She made him a special tea that stops him from throwing up and built him a brand new boat for him to go fishing in. He calls her Deetee.

Mother Miranda also has a soft spot for her (though she tries to deny it every chance she gets) Miranda didn’t give Datura the cadou because she wanted to use her as a vessel, instead she felt sorry for her and actually asked Datura for permission. She’s the reason Miranda has came to terms with Eva’s death and has learned to appreciate the four Lords as they are. She’s getting there, don’t worry.

Other: Datura is noturnal. She doesn’t need to sleep as much so she can be awake for days on end, but most active at night. Where Donna can control the pollen to cause hallucinations, Datura does so through her eyes. Sometimes when she dreams those dreams happen in real life. Prophetic. Her bite is poisonous and causes the victim to calcify, though she’s only had to use that power once. It does not work on those affected by the cadou, so Donna is immune.

She can teleport but isn’t very good at it.

(Once she tried to teleport into the village and she ended up scaring the mold out of Miranda who was in the middle of making coffee, ouch)

I plan on posting fanfic drabbles on here once I get the chance! I’d love to talk about Datura more and meet your Res8 OC’s as well, it’s good to be back in the Village 😉

Please do not share this art without proper credit to the artist, you may not use my OC as your own.

[echo-nt]

I know this has already been said and I’m super late, but Mia as the protag of RE8 would have been so good. The contrast between Mia, the Lords, and Mother Miranda would have been absolutely interesting. I'm shoving everything under a read more because damn I have so many thoughts about Mia.

Lady Dimitrescu is a woman that cannibalizes and drinks the blood of her servants and intruders. On top of that, she tortures before preying on them. She does this willingly and very much derives pleasure from doing so. Lady D’s gothic triplets hunt any poor fool that wanders in. It’s a fun family activity for them just as much as it’s for sustenance. 

Do you know what this parallels? The Baker family under Eveline’s control. They patrol the estate and anyone who rejects the “gift” either ends up molded or on the dinner table. This family also partakes in a fucked up version of a family dinner, eating the victims that refused their little girl’s “gift.” 

However, a major difference between the Baker and Dimitrescu family is their willingness to participate in these activities. A family of cannibals; one forced while the other relishes in it. 

Mia is still very traumatized by her three years in the Baker’s estate. Breaking into the castle to find her daughter would force her back. Hello to all the emotions that come with those memories, the ones Mia has been trying to forget. The harder you try to forget something, the more you think about it. What better way to make Mia acknowledge Dulvey, Louisiana than by forcing her into something so similar? 

And while she’s still reeling from remembering her time in captivity, why not push her a bit further down memory lane with House Beneviento? Mia has demonstrated at multiple points in RE7 that she does care about other lives. She lies to Ethan to keep him from getting caught up in her work. She tries to save Alan and crew members of "The Annabelle" (the crew members are a bit more indirect, she mainly focused on Alan) by containing Eveline. After Jack finds her, Mia keeps her distance to keep from infecting them while trying to write a warning. She tries her hardest during RE7 to save Ethan. 

Mia’s hallucinations could center on her guilt. The failure to stop Eveline and the lives ruined as a result. How she was always too late to help anyone. Ethan curing her, a criminal, over Zoe, the person helping him. Leaving Zoe behind in the shattered remains of her home and family. Surviving. Visions of Ethan hinting at his “condition” could lure her to the manor. A little nudge to the whole “he was mold the entire time” plot twist without fully giving it away. 

Moreau, lacking in self worth and very attached to a woman who doesn’t give him the time a day, yet still he considers her as his mother. Most of his actions are for the attention and validation from his “mother.” No matter what Moreau does, he’ll never have her affection or time. It’s sad, isn’t it? To witness a man try so hard only to be rejected. And isn’t that familiar? Mia once felt compassion for someone with similar traits. 

Remember the little girl who considered you her mother? The one that spent three years waiting for you to love her after you promised? The one you had a hand in killing? What makes you think you could ever be a good mother after what you did? Why are you trying so hard to save Rose when you didn’t even extend the same courtesy to Eveline?

Y’all know how Mia’s past is a mystery? Like why she was working for the Connections and how she was even recruited and all that. Heisenberg would be a great way to explore it. A man taken, forced into becoming something else, and stuck in a family he doesn’t want. Mia can relate. He wants to use her daughter as a weapon. She was willing to let another child be used as a weapon. They’re alike, so surely Mia would be willing to side with him.

But Heisenberg is cocky and Mia isn’t the person she was prior/during 7. Even if she was on board with using Eveline as a weapon to end all wars or whatever bullshit the Connections told her, she’s not willing now. Not after what she’s seen and been through. This section could be Heisenberg goading her through the tvs/intercoms about her past to change her mind with Mia remaining steadfast in her refusal.

And then there’s Mother Miranda. Two mothers trying to get their daughters back through vastly different means. Because of the group photo showing Mia and Miranda with Eveline this encounter can go one of two ways. 

Miranda and Mia know each other and have worked together before. Whether it be on the E-Series Project (with Mia becoming the caretaker and spending copious amounts of time at the lab) or though some other means at work. 

They’ve only briefly met when the Connections were in a hurry to transport Eveline.

Either way, Miranda would compare them. As a mother, Mia must understand what she’s trying to accomplish. Would Mia not do the same as she? Maybe at this point Miranda shows she killed Ethan to demoralize to prevent her from interfering with the ceremony. Tells her she’s too late once again and to give Rose to her because she’ll be the superior mother.

Idk, I guess you could switch to Ethan instead of Chris so he can still have Eveline tell him he’s moldy. But he’s a stubborn man and he forces himself back to weaken Miranda so Mia can kill her. Chris shows up and Ethan does the same thing he did at the end by blowing himself up with Chris forcing Mia (with Rose) on the helicopter. That way the Shadow of Rose DLC can still be about Rose and Ethan. 

TLDR; Mia should have been the protagonist because it would have allowed us to explore her character and background more. It was a missed opportunity especially since so much of RE8 centers around mothers. It would have played out better as closing off the Winters Family saga as well since we could have tied the loose ends that came with Mia’s mysterious past.

[spicybunni]

YANDERE DONNA BENEVIENTO HEADCANONS

I'm back again with my girl! I love her so much and think her chapter deserved more development. Also the haunted house aesthetics for her estate? HELLO? This is more of a continuation of my previous Yandere Donna post with some repeated themes but longer version I guess? Hope you enjoy 🖤

WARNINGS : YANDERE TENDENCIES / ISLOATION / SCARING DARLING / DOLLS / SFW / SLIGHT VIOLENCE TOWARDS READER

🪡Never let’s you leave the manor. Are you joking? She hardly leaves unless it’s to meet with her siblings or Mother Miranda.

🪡Stop trying to escape. You're just gonna be chased in a circle by unimaginable horrors back into your isolated room. If it not by dolls or monsters it would be by ghosts.

🪡If she's in a forgiving mood, all she would do is scold you and leave you be. You are her beloved so she can't truly be angry with you. You didn't know any better from the 100 other times you have attempted and failed!

🪡However, if she is furious with you. It definitely shows. She will isolate you and lock the door to your room but the dolls haunt you for the remainder of the evening. If dolls don't scare you she would make you hallucinate. She would come back in once she hears your screams die down. Finding you in a corner shaking with snot and tears dribbling down your face. So easily manipulated like putty into her embrace again.

🪡You would grasp onto her and cry into her shoulder. Muttering apologizes and pleas for that to never happen again, that you would do anything.

🪡Her grin would go unnoticed by you. "Then just obey and be good." She would say, stroking your hair to calm you down.

🪡Do not keep asking her to let you go either. If she tries to start conversation with you and all you ever say is to let you go? Immediately gives you the silent treatment! And if you continue despite that? Then its downstairs for you.

🪡Makes cute dresses/clothes for you. How do you think all of her dolls look so good? She can pretty much sew anything.

🪡There's no option to refuse wearing the clothes she makes because she will literally toss all your wardrobe until you wear whatever she made.

🪡If you got an unexpected face reveal from her? Immediately sent to the basement to be isolated. If you even dare to ask what happened to her face her dolls would cut you. Of course it wasn't in your control, but now you know her biggest insecurity. She must make you fear her all over again.

🪡A better response rather than just staring is if you avoid her gaze back at you, covering your eyes and repeatedly apologize for looking. She would be satisfied with that and move on from it.

🪡Does not like it when you talk about your previous life. You can talk about your interests or ask her questions, and she will gladly respond to you. Don't talk about these past friends or god forbid you mention your family. It makes her shake with anger and she will send you to your room.

🪡Also becomes your doctor while keeping you. Her knowledge does not stop at medical plants and herbs. She would give you check ups every now and then.

🪡PDA would include sitting closely on the couch, having your head in her lap, some hugging, and hand holding. After a while I feel she would order you to sleep in the same bed as her.

🪡You figure it's better than being awake all night by yourself hearing creaks in the wood of the manor or high pitched giggling from her dolls littered everywhere.

🪡Honestly since you're one of her first darlings that is somewhat compliant, and hasn't been killed immediately, her conflicting emotions with PDA are 50/50. She only allows it if she initiates or demands it. But if you ever surprise her and do it back without her permission she gets flustered easily and will leave you in your room again. Eventually she would be alright with you touching her, but for now let her have the power and control of PDA.

🪡At some point you are finally broken and realize there is no escape, you become a housekeeper for Donna. Mostly just a helper. She doesn't let you cook alone.

🪡Does expect compliments when she shows you her embroidery or her latest garden project. She loves when you actually show interest in what she's doing. If you don't, Angie would just yell insults at you until you did.

🪡A compliant darling gets the best treatment from Donna. She would have no reason to punish you and would actually grant some freedoms of roaming the mansion. Letting you go into her library and cinema room on your own. She would pat your head or hold your face between her palms lovingly.

🪡 On the flip side if you're a defiant darling....well, you get nothing beneficial. You are locked below the mansion in the attic with a few books and a bed. Not even a bathroom. The only interactions you get are her sliding a food tray into the room and wellness check ups on you. She doesn't even give you the comedic relief of Angie. If you ever try to get the best of her while she's with you, she is not against chaining you to the bed post or the center of the room.

🪡Donna can be a very gentle yandere. She is obsessed with you becoming her companion in life till the end. Or rather your end. Just be a good darling to her and you can expect a life of comfortable silences and cozy fireplace chatter.