caliphor - Tumblr blog

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Gottfried Benn, Selected Poems and Prose; from ‘Late’, tr. David Paisey

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                                 ❝ ━ After all, everyone dies eventually. ❞

                                            mother miranda - resident evil: village

                                               home / mobile rules.  

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☙   ——   prompted   /   @miruyume​

ur portrayal has put me in a choke hold and demanded 50 dollars from me. anyways, I will come in here and say that your writing has been astounding from the beginning to current day. Your ideas you make are creative & engrossing. god I want your brain sooooo bad. I wish I have the worms you eat. literally any time you post it’s always refreshing to see you on my dash. you’re also one of the my closest friends who stuck with me a long time and I’m always down to write with you anytime with any muse you pick up.

CHURCH IM GOING TO KISS YOU ON THE FACE!! i love u so much we’ve known each other for too longgg youve always been so supportive of me and i’m so happy to hear that you like my stuff so much!! i love all your ideas and yumekos so fuckin great dude. your art n writing is so sexy too like ugh *massages your brain* gimme creative skills NOW

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☙   ——   prompted   /   @virusfelt​

YOUR PORTRAYAL IS SO FIRE. DEF ONE OF MY FAVORITE BLOGS. do NOT get me started on your writing and how fluid and GOOD it is. you literally own every thread you do and we can discern how interested you are in your muse and it's just refreshing and good all around. *waving eternal support flag wildly*

ACK!? THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOUR BLOG TOO your writing? your portrayal? your everything? so fucking good dude i always stop and read your stuff and i dont even really know jill that well since i mostly only know village HEUIFGHLJKHGS you make me feel like i played but only retained her parts of the game. does that make sense? anyway you’re great thank you for the super duper sweet message <333

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☙   ——   prompted   /   @bxckle-up​

your portrayal is absolutely AMAZING !! i love the writing style you chose for daniela -- love how she's so "innocent" but not really ?? words cant really express how much i get excited whenever i see you in my activity jkadshfkjahsdfjka

AHH thank you so much that’s the vibe i want to give off for her... ominously innocent EGHKJDG you know i love your writing and your portrayal too and our threads so fun already for these two because she’s jsut TERRORIZING poor jesse. thank u for the ask <333 

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☙   ——   prompted   /   @villageoflords​

honestly your daniela makes me love daniela all the more? for what's given in the game, you really knew how to give more dimension to this character---and that alone is def impressive!! and ofc, your writing is /chef's kiss/ !

AWW thank you so much that means the world to me !!! i looove taking concepts that i feel are severely underdeveloped and just giong NUTS on it so when people say i’m making a character more dimensional im like OOOOH HSDJHF i love your blog so much too you’re fantastic on all of your muses, your writings great, and i love your art as well! 

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PLOTTING CALL. i could've sworn i had another more recent one but the one i reblogged a second ago was old and i already messaged the ppl who liked that one SO here's a new one!

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HEADCANONS   —   CHAPTER  II.    faith.

side note: this is definitely a huge world building hc so if you like this then please feel free to use it for your blog! id like you to let me know just cuz its fun but like besides that everyone’s free to take pieces of this. except for scoob. she’s blacklisted from my headcanons.

so this is a general headcanon on how i think the cult,  the faith of the black god,  generally works. here’s what we know about it in canon:

mother miranda seems to be the ultimate authority in the cult since she’s the one who started it around the black fungus supercolony in/near the village. 

this supercolony is what the believers worship as the black god. miranda is a sort of prophet for it. 

the four lords are considered high enough authority to have their photos hung up in the church alongside miranda’s. 

the cult itself is neopagan with strong ties to christianity since the village was originally christian before their current belief took over a long time ago. 

now onto the headcanons! the way that i see the four lords & miranda is that i believe they’re all regarded as sorts of lesser deities among the people, right below miranda & the black god itself.   the dimitrescu daughters would probably be seen like something as angels that serve & protect alcina and are similarly looked up to as religious figures, though lesser than everybody else.

each lord serves over the area that they were given - castle dimitrescu & house beneviento are probably more over the villagers homes and shops since theyre within the village, karl’s factory & the wheat fields would likely encompass the farmers and workers, & moraeu’s reservoir would be for the fishermen and other workers in that area. if i was to push away from canon some more, i’d even separate alcina to be over the shops (probably the nobles too in the past) and donna is over the residential area just so everybody gets their own thing. 

i think that the villagers pray to each of the lords when theyre asking for something in particular… for example; fishermen praying to moreau for safety, farmers to heisenberg for good harvests, so on & so forth.  

i like to think that they have titles besides lord/lady [last name] or first/second/third/fourth lord that would be something like “lady of abundance” for alcina. that sort of format for everybody that represents what they symbolically rule over. so to have them all laid out....

MOTHER MIRANDA,  rules over all of the village,  prophet of the black god.

ALCINA DIMITRESCU,  rules over the “financial district”,  first lady of abundance. lesser known,  but also known formerly as the angel of rage.

BELA DIMIRESCU,  the angel of sorrow. CASSANDRA DIMITRESCU,  the angel of pleasure. DANIELA DIMITRESCU,  the angel of joy.

DONNA BENEVIENTO,  rules over the “residential district”,  second lady of the hearth.

SALVATORE MOREAU,  rules over the “water district”,  third lord of the bounty.

KARL HEISENBERG,  rules over the “industrial district”,  fourth lord of the harvest.

while i believe the lords are all feared, i think its more realistic that is a sort of fear of god situation rather than actual fear up until the purge before the game starts. suspicions are totally there; people going missing after going to castle dimitrescu, fishermen getting eaten by a giant grotesque fish, you know. all of that. and i think there are rumors of man-like monsters that roam the outskirts of the village (the failed experiments that miranda casted out), but when you’ve seen that your whole life you just… find that normal. its a terrifying thought but theyd see these things and just tell each other not to go outside the border of the village because theyre safest in there. scary shit like this being normalized is one of the things that make cults so scary in media AND in real life. 

i think when the cult was first taking over the village they had much more of a social hierarchy with nobility, middle class, peasants, etc. as the years passed by the hierarchy became much more… condensed. there are some richer folk, some working people, some poorer people, but overall? nobilitys not really a thing anymore in the “modern” age, especially with the only notable noble standing being the dimitrescu house. i imagine since alcina makes so much money off of her wines and, at least in my canon, she’s over the financial “district” of the village she’s been able to stay on top while everybody else fell to working class or lower. we don’t get to see a lot of the village because its completely ruined by the time we get to it, but realistically there’s gotta be some shops and other things besides homes since theres clearly a church everybody goes to.

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PLOTTING CALL. i could've sworn i had another more recent one but the one i reblogged a second ago was old and i already messaged the ppl who liked that one SO here's a new one!

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life update! work wants me doing stuff in another store for a week and a half alongside some of my current charity work in our store so I'll probably be fairly quiet ic and ooc. I'll work on stuff on my lunches as per usual but if i go real quiet then you know why

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beep beep how’s my portrayal ?

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I'LL TELL YOU WHEN YOU GET YOUR SOFT, ITALICIZED, "OH."

    the late-night talk.

oh. you figure it out when you realize just how vulnerable they are willing to be with you. it isn't everybody who could or would stay up talking into the night with you, not with such affection or easy familiarity. it isn't everybody who is so understanding of you. it isn't everybody who could bare their soul to you in return. that kind of intimacy... it means deep foundations. it means comfort. it means trust. maybe it's a secret, maybe it's a story, maybe it's something you just never thought of before -- but they say something, late at night, and you realize all at once how remarkable they are, and how special it is to exist in the same time and space as them. "oh" indeed.

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↷ ☙   ——   @cericata​ .

how do you drown a six foot woman in frills  &  lace?   never did she think that her eldest sister—  rather,  her only cousin—  no.  she refused to refer to her as anything other than her sister.  focus,  daniela.  never did she think that she would allow herself to be dressed like a children’s doll!  dark gowns  &  exposed shoulders had been torn away from bela,  turned into petticoats  &  starched fabrics that could not possibly be comfortable to move in.  this in itself would be humorous if it were not for the fact that she was morphing into a different person with each  &  every visit.  whatever did happen to the bossy,  stuffy,  strong - headed bela she knew  &  loved?  that she still loved now?  where is her strength,  her drive,  the attitude of her’s that she so loved to mock in years long gone?  she did not like this.  not one bit.

she kneeled down on a floral stretch of fabric,  placing a metallic container down at her side.  bela lagged behind to bring her own basket of food.  her sister chattered away cheerfully as if she had nobody to talk to but her,  all the while pulling out foods that did not become a former dimitrescu.  slices of sweet cozonac,  a couple plums,  &  a canister of red soup.  daniela hated that soup that the benevientos made her drink.  it deceived even her eyes the first time she saw bela eating it  —  what looked to be chunks of flesh in a bath of vegetables  &  blood broth was nothing but mushrooms marinated in blood wine.  it was a mockery of the woman who used to be the strongest of the three sisters.  she held back a shaky sigh.

the metal clasps of her own lunch box opened to reveal a portion of what looked to be ciorbă de burtă.  in true dimitrescu fashion,  the spin on this soup was that the meat was none other but the human flesh that the girls needed to sustain themselves.  the flesh that bela was clearly not getting enough of,  if any at all.  she set the warm bowl between the two of them.  a glance was granted to the doll that sat watching nearby.   “   …  would you like to try my lunch?  i’m not really hungry right now.   “

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↷ ☙   ——   NECHEMAT.

          The exterior by itself was such a stark contrast to the general decreptitude over the village below. Dark and majestic, it could’ve been setting the scene to any gothic horror film, and while Anne didn’t pack any flowing robes that would fit in the best, a bespoke suit would do too. 

          Thankfully, dealing with extravagant billionaires - the lady of the castle must be, without doubt, the maintenance must be insane - was something she was used to and it could prove itself easier than trying to get something out of the villagers, and even if it was but information about the owner of the castle. Which was… almost nothing. At least nothing they were willing to share. 

          Still, Anne knew she could count herself lucky as she was let in, as opening the door to the castle solely on the account of her being a stranger. The servant girl looked pale and quiet, head lowered, and only spoke in the quickest, most abrupt sentences. Would it be arrogant to assume that it was because of her? After all, it was not every day strangers came to visit, and especially not those, who seemed to be so chipper and eager to talk. The girl kept quiet for most, and it couldn’t solely be her bad Romanian. Knowing people as her job, Anne knew something was wrong about her. And with this whole situation.

            Quick steps that only let her scan the rooms they traversed for moments, not enough time to notice the details, but good enough to make quick notes of the path and possible exits. It wasn’t, despite the general feeling of unease ever since she had set foot into this village, solely because she expected something to happen, but something to put her mind at ease. Always have an escape plan.

          “The Mistress will be with your sho-,” The girl lifted her head, and turned even more pale than she already was, staring at the landing above. It felt like Anne heard… a humming?  “Excuse me, I must return to my duties.” ALmost stumbling oer her words as she stumbled outside, Anne followed her figure for a moment, before tearing herself away to scan the magnificent parlour and- there it was again. What the hell?

     a particularly satisfying book  reading session had her spirits high this afternoon.  daniela was thankful for the occasional novel she would receive from the duke on his occasional visits,  a breath of fresh air when the rest of the library had long been exhausted.  the story had her attention from start to finish,  consumed voraciously through the night  &  morning.  her mood was better than usual,  to say the least.  a single fly peeked its head from under the door to check on what was happening in the outside world.  plenty of maids rushed from hall to hall on their everyday tasks,  likely commanded by her eldest sister considering her bossy track record.  another fly came out of the room,  another,  &  another until what stood in front of wooden doors was a tall noblewoman.

      her steps did not make a sound as she strolled through the halls.  many maids passed by,  each ducking their heads at the sight of her  &  each greeted with a chipper  good afternoon.  what was odd was the obvious discomfort that each  &  every one of them displayed as they rushed by to continue their tasks even after being addressed by name.  the newcomers were ordinarily more enthusiastic,  eager to please one of their four mistresses,  but even they ducked their heads when daniela was near.  how odd.  how suspicious.  an investigation was in order.

      she turned the corner  &  dissipated out of sight from any prying eyes,  flying high  &  scattered along the ceiling through hallowed halls.  hundreds of insects made quick time of the trek onwards onto the landing that oversaw the whole foyer.  pale hands then gripped the railing,  looking over to see an unfamiliar woman.  her gaze narrowed in on marianne,  the maid who seemed to know exactly why this outsider was here when she did not.  the audacity to not inform her!  did her mother know?  her sisters?  would she be the first to greet her into castle dimitrescu?

     so it seemed.  the servant,  making eye contact with the noble above,  ran off with a scared fervor under the guise of greater duties.  it was smart of her to make herself scarce.  the buzzing mass branched in all kinds of directions,  making quick time in reforming before the woman turned back around again.  she gripped the sides of her skirt &  curtsied.

      “   welcome to castle dimitrescu.  we do not get visitors often.   “   daniela did not hide the way in which she looked the stranger up  &  down.  she was rather pretty with her dark hair  &  pale skin   —   oh,  &  what striking eyes she had!  she prayed mother would let her play with this one for a bit before her time was up.  “   i do not believe we’ve met.  go on,  tell me your name!   “

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Auguste Toulmouche

French, 1829-1890

‘Sweet doing nothing’ (1877)

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find a man to consume rabidly as a special fathers day treat! preferably one that has had children but any will do!

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The Hesitant Betrothed by Auguste Toulmouche (1866)