WHAT A MESS.

                  PRIVATE   •   SPORADIC ACTIVITY   •   CANON - DIVERGENT    •   18+                                                          BELA DIMITRESCU FROM RESIDENT EVIL 8​

CAUTION.   Do not go further if you are uncomfortable with or triggered by the following content:  INSECTS,  GORE,  CANNIBALISM,   HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION,  CULT  /  HEAVY RELIGIOUS ELEMENTS,  OTHER COMMON HORROR ELEMENTS.

he may not bear the sheer towering size of their mother, not the visible twisted flesh of his other siblings, but beneath the scarred exterior lies something just as rotten - blood more akin to oil than ichor, a static charge that that leaves bare skin hot to the touch. it is a dangerous game to play, one he indulges in, but bela is a good girl, smart enough to know better despite the quick feral nature she tries to suppress hidden behind her cat-like eyes. he’s seen the way the girls hunt, the red stains on their jaws that cannot be scrubbed away - muses briefly on whether alcina has tried, mouths filled with soap - they share a hunger that cannot be filled the same as him. a longing for something more. the memories might be hazy now, rewritten under miranda’s machinations so that she is all he knows, but there is some remnant that clings o the corners of his mind. 

there’s something in her, amongst the cobwebs, that remembers the life prior whether she realises it or not. little quirks in the personalities of the three that come from something other than alcina’s imprint. the blonde is hard working, devoted, less chaotic than her siblings - it speaks of labour, speaks of gratitude. how he’d like to pick at her mind and uncover some forgotten treasure, figure out exactly who she is. 

the softness that appears in her voice is unexpected, particularly after the bared teeth and hiss - insufferable grin plastered on his face, prying at the cracks of her composure on sheer accident. he’s learned by now that confident words give the impression of knowledge, as if he’s found all their secrets and in turn, they expose themselves more.

it has been a long time since the fields have been tended, overgrown gold and equipment that lies forgotten. he is the last stallion to tread them, the lycans taking their fill of fresh meat and the stable boy he kept now nothing more than an experimental corpse. “despite how your mother acts, i’m not the one that did this to you, girl,” there’s no sympathy, he’s far too selfish for that, but he would be a fool to ignore the way that bela is a perfect example of what he could have been - devout and submissive to a woman who stole her from her family, turned her into something inhuman and monstrous, “i don’t give a shit about her letters, i’m not her fucking errand boy. we serve miranda, not her.”

he waves his hand, dismissive as ever. “so quick to run off? i didn’t think you were so easily intimidated, bela. it won’t kill you to step out of your mothers shadow.”

     His words strike in an attempt to burn but they leave her with nothing more than a feeling of something she had a hard time describing with words. The way he refers to her as girl feels fitting, in the presence of the Lords she and her siblings paled in comparison. Deep down she maybe knew she’d never be able to perfectly fit her Mother’s mold and yet that didn’t stop her from trying. The next set of words were more sour than the first, it set the tone for a long visit. Bela had asked specifically what if her Uncle didn’t desire to read the letter? Alcina was clear, for the job to be done right the letter must be opened and read in full. --However, that meant she could be here all night at this rate.

        The jab flared up her temper again, but she was quick to snuff it out. “I’m sure the contents involve Mother Miranda. If they didn’t, I don’t see why she wouldn’t send a maid to deliver the letter. Anyone but me would have been preferable at this point.” Like a feline waiting to attack her eyes trailed him, watching even the smallest movement. Cassandra may be revered for her hunting skills, but that did not make her the biggest threat of the three. Bela was still the strongest and most put together, a foe not to be taken lightly. Still, if her Uncle were to genuinely fight her she logically knew she would face defeat. However, these impulses were hardly logical.

     “Can you blame me for not wanting to be here? I’ve many things to do, many responsibilities. It has nothing to do with intimidation, and I’m fine in Mother’s Shadow. It simply means I never stray.”, her words were said with confidence. Even her own sister’s teased at her for being a constant mirror of their Mother, she was the biggest Mama’s girl of them all which was a hard title to claim. “I don’t see what’s so wrong with wanting to be like Mother anyway, she’s perfect in just about every way. Of course if we are talking about true perfection we’d have to bring up Mother Miranda.” Like a faithful sheep she parroted back all the words that had been aggressively spoon fed to her all her life. She was born in this village, she died in this village and now she was spending her undead afterlife in this village.

      The Dimitrescu began to walk, the motion eerily similar to that of a predator circling prey, “Besides what benefit could you have keeping me here? Don’t you have anything better to do? I assumed this factor served some purpose, or at least you at least have hobbies of some sort.” Her attention shifted to the dismantled tractor and the discarded letter, she approached and let her claws run over the rusted decaying paint. It filled her with a rush of emotion and she was quick to recoil, she hated when that happened. “This place could use a cleaning.”, quick to play it off as she shook her hand as if her recoil was caused by disgust and not anything else.

&& Ruh-Roh // Sporadic Activity / Low Activity Warning & Life Updates

So, this was inevitable but for July Ima be real sporadic. I’ll be keeping the few threads I have and those will be priority so when I pop in it’ll probably be mostly to reply to them.  ✧ @/caliphor & @/bambolae ✧ @/blitzkriegers ✧ @/vintneress ✧ @/greenherb 

----------------------------

If you have a plot you really want to do always feel free to hit me up because I’ll most likely say yes to plotted stuff, but my DMs will be REALLY slow. I’ma be real across all my social media, I’m struggling to keep up with all my DMs so tumblr has suffered the worst; I’m so sorry. I highly recommend adding me on discord if you want to keep up because you can always contact me. This month I’ll be busy with... ✧ Commissions  ✧ ArtFight (first year doing this ) - if you do artfight I’m down to add you but reminder I’m a furry artist if you ask. I can kinda draw people but they’re not my strength.  ✧ FanArt  / Working on getting physical merchandise  ✧ Attending Streams -- I’ve been invited to a few! Exciting! Even getting to do art for a Vtuber so this also is eating up a chunk of my time.  ✧ Ofc I’m gunna throw Andy on here because since we’ve both been so busy we’ve been really trying to set aside time just for us. I know she wants to write too though, so we def still want to make time for rping.  --------------------------

&& Mini Headcanon // Romance & Sexuality 

I meant to post this Sunday and not at 4am on Monday but here we are. I HC Bela as a lesbian, although I don’t think she accepted that until well into her rebirth. When she was alive she had affections for another farmer’s daughter, but afraid that her feelings may be received poorly and ruin their friendship she never confessed. Most young women often spoke of finding a husband and starting a family, something that didn’t interest Bela even slightly. -- She had many suitors and turned all of them down. Her Father at first was a bit relieved but also was a bit worried that his daughter focused all of her time on her work and none on her personal life. While admirable, it was concerning for his daughter’s happiness. 

Bela is awkward when it comes to romance and her sexuality, she’s more instinctual and views impulses and desires as basic needs to curb instead of acts of intimacy. She is defiantly not a virgin, she has slept with various maids and village girls who viewed her as an angel, but that normally ended in her feral instincts taking over and the woman becoming a meal. So, in the rare times she has held true affection for a woman she has stayed FAR away from her. 

Bela has a constant fear of losing control and becoming more beast than woman, she believes romance is the means to an end. She sometimes wishes she could be more like her sisters and have flights of fancy for people, but it just comes with more anxiety than it’s worth. She has a hundred unset love letters, dried up flowers and gifts nobody will ever see. 

the attack is expected, but he does the favour of allowing her to strike him - she’s quick, regardless, but the joy of pushing her to something so animalistic is far more rewarding than the satisfaction of avoiding her claws. the fabric of his stained shirt slices open, it’s ragged edges spotted with crimson as he scoffs - another scar to add to his collection. it stings, a slash through him like a papercut, and he basks in the soreness, the sting at his chest.

bingo! it’s a talent of his, formed over many years of poking and prodding to simply gauge the reaction - half of the time it’s nothing but accusations paired with observations, speaking assumptions with the all-knowing smirk of confidence that tricks people into thinking he knows more than he does. he’s seen her wander, dangerously close to the fields, nothing more. most of his time is spent below the earth, amongst the machines that are easy to understand and control unlike the people of this village. there is the slight shift in his magnetic aura when someone intrudes, wings fluttering through the diamonds of the wire fencing. he has watched them hunt, creeping through the night as they giggle and shriek, stalking their prey - whilst he tolls in the graveyards, unseen, a labyrinth of tunnels beneath their killing floors that lead through the village and back to the factory. for all his showmanship, he is a careful man - unwilling to risk the chance of their paths crossing during the midnight hours.

the rest is all assumption, a little bit of his own vitriol at being a prisoner slipping through - he knows better than to show his hand, to play his vulnerabilities, instead he turns it on it’s head so it is her attempts at freedom rather than his own.

the girls may adore their mother, may desperately walk in her shadow and try against their true nature to imitate their statuesque goddess, but a cage is still a cage and no young woman - compromised of flies that feast on rot or otherwise - should be trapped inside. he understands, better than anyone.

the memories are now nothing more than hazy footage amongst the static of his mind, the blurred image of parents whose faces he cannot remember, some desire for something more. he tolls through day and night, calloused hands and sweat, bones aching from the constant movement - some innate instinct for labour that miranda did not beat out of him. remnants of a life he once had, was expected to have. 

“i never said i cared. i don’t think mommy dearest would be so thrilled to know you sneak off into my domain, though, do you?” rhetorical, the mere implication that her eldest daughter would want to associate with anything to do with him would boil her blood. “

         Claws covered in the putrid blood of unsatisfying prey was enough to make her stomach turn, his blood smelled just as rotten and filthy as he was. For a brief second she considered the consequences of if she had actually dared to bite him, the very thought of it was enough to give her a cold chill. Man blood was a bit of a delicacy when Maiden blood was your comfort food, but even if he had been the last man in this village she’d still rather swear off the rich flavor forever than get a personal taste of whatever rancid fluid pumped through his veins. With a sharp flick of her wrist she cast aside any blood droplets that clung to her nails, the rest would have to wait until she had access to a sanitary sink. 

         The growl on her breath exposed her irritation, despite her concern of him knowing about what she did in her personal time. The eldest daughter spent some time ignoring him, but was drawn back by his childish mocking way of addressing her Mother, that affectionate name had never even left her own lips; so how dare he of all people use it! Although deep down she truly doubted her Mother would care if she had called her that, she coddled her children beyond belief and despite Bela’s insatiable anxieties she knew her Mother cared for her. -- As for sneaking off in the dead of night? Perhaps she would have a bit more of a problem with that.

        Oh the audacity of this man, it caused her to bare her teeth once more at him. Fangs exposed and claws flexed, nope she learned her lesson the first time. A loud huff filled the space between them, “If you think I sneak into your domain because I desire to be in your business, you’re sorely mistaken.” That left a glaring question hanging in the room though -- Why did she sneak off into his domain then if not for him?

        There was a softer tone in her voice, “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the real reason.” Claws were lowered and she stood up straighter, the truth was she wasn’t even sure why she was so drawn to the wheat, the animals, and most of all this old run down farmhouse. She’d never ventured onto the property in fear that the place simply looked abandoned and actually had some family living inside. However, the gruesome truth was that the house had been empty for a very long time and with village blood running lower with every passing year; there was nobody to fill it.

                                   So there it stood, like a vault to a past long forgotten.

      the senseless assault is sudden,  although not unexpected.   the vigilant eyes of a loving mother had watched bela each day as she further descended into a not unfamiliar state of strain,  wound tight like an angry viper poised to strike,  and the matriarch’s concern grew and grew as she carefully considered how she might approach her eldest daughter with the topic of her mounting anxieties.   almost since the day of her birth,  bela gathered up responsibilities entirely of her own volition in an effort to impress lady dimitrescu,  to be just like her stately and well-composed mother.   in all her egotism,  alcina had at first responded encouragingly to this poisonous attitude.   the rush of narcissistic pleasure it swept over her was heady and shamefully addictive  —-  to finally be worshipped as a goddess in her own right,  to be idolized for all her grace,  poise,  and nigh-unmatched power,  was perhaps the very culmination of all her life’s ambitions.

      but as it was wont to do regarding her most beloved daughters,  lady dimitrescu’s unconditional love soon prevailed over her voracious selfishness.   the toll bela’s impossible aspirations took became unavoidable;   the wear on bela’s mind and body simply tore alcina’s heart to witness,  and that she had ever galvanized it rent her with remorse.   lady dimitrescu and her daughters were each of them begotten by the divine mold,  the megamycete,  but they were not and could never be the same.   the girls are predators above all,  governed by the ravenous swarms that take their womanly shape.   they are disorderly,  insatiable,  ephemeral,  savage.   indeed,  their mother loves them for their inexorable monstrousness,  and she long ago abandoned the notion of civilizing them.   but bela,  ever her mother’s shadow,  could never quite abandon the notion herself.

      when wild yellow eyes lock on alcina’s,  she knows just what to anticipate and braces herself despite her virtual invulnerability.   she feels no pain as bela’s claws tear her gown to ribbons and slash at her flesh;   the physical wounds are negligible and heal over in an instant,  but the emotional ones slice deep,  for she has once again failed to convince bela of the immeasurable value of her own self.   the matriarch’s large,  gloved hands grasp her daughter’s shoulders as she howls and drones and seethes,  her violent actions mindless.   like any cornered animal,  bela lashed out at the first target her yearning glare could find.   alcina could never blame her for acting on instinct.

      lady dimitrescu knows the moment the feral haze of bloodlust clears when bela’s features flood with realization.   she feels her eldest daughter quiver like a fearful doe underneath her hands,  watches in heartbreak as tears spill from bela’s guilt-ridden eyes.   alcina’s eyes fill in turn,  shimmering with unshed tears like clear waters drenched in moonlight.   ❛  stop,  ❜   the lady breathes,  staggered again by the vulnerability her daughters manage to inspire in her.   ❛  not another word,  bela.   i knew you were in pain.   this was my fault for failing to intervene sooner.  ❜   her hands rise from bela’s thin shoulders to tenderly cup her face.   ❛  you’re so much like me.   you care so fervently about your image.   i always worry that i’ll hurt you more by giving voice to your disquiet,  but i won’t abandon you for my childish fears again.  ❜   with the pad of her thumb,  mother sweeps away the tears that trail down bela’s cheek.   ❛  i love you,  my daughter.   you will never fail me.   please,  tell me what’s troubling you.  ❜

     With the fight from her instincts promptly put in their place by reality; the next natural reaction was starting to take hold. Flight. Terror of what she had done was overwhelming her senses and she couldn’t help the feral squirming that came next, trying desperately to claw her way out of her Mother’s grasp. The stop was enough to make her whimper and cease her attempt at an escape; had she been more in tune with her monstrous self she would have realized she could be free at any time by the use of the insects that made up her body. However, true to the issue at hand she stayed in her solid form. “I…”, the words were not permitted to come out as she was told to hold her tongue for the moment. Obediently she obeyed without any second thought, her yellow eyes cast downwards in shame; her mind chewing over the words presented to her.

        Large hands cupped her face and it dragged her gaze upwards with it, the daughter sniffled and relaxed ever so slightly into the comforting touch. Her Mother’s words felt like pin pricks to her skin, she sometimes truly forgot that she was not one in the same as Mother Miranda. Some long forgotten part of her truly did worship Alcina as a deity, but that version of herself was long dead and gone. She struggled with the last shreds of her humanity, unknown to her -- that war raged deep inside and the victor would never be crowned. It caused her a lot of issues that her siblings lacked, as they came from very different circumstances. Despite being reborn, remnants of the former farm girl remained; even if Bela couldn’t see it there was no doubt that her Mother could. These feelings of inferiority, her work ethic closer to that of a servant than the daughter of a noble, and most damning her desire to please was akin to that of the most obedient hunting dog. She was devout in life, to a fault -- devout in death all the same.

          With tears wiped away Bela did her best not to shed any more, but still her eyes were filled to the brim, never quite slipping out as she spoke, “I wish I could.” She desperately truly wished she could, but she did not know why she behaved this way. She didn’t know why she could not relax, why part of her felt as if she didn’t truly belong here next to her Mother and not below her. “I love you so much, maybe even too much.”, the words were timid, “Forgive me, I don’t know why I simply can not lower you to the place you wish to be. Part of me so desperately wishes to fully accept you just as my Mother, as you’ve never been anything but loving and kind. You’ve raised me with every best intentions and yet I still find myself lacking. I’m unhappy with the results, I have this desperate painful desire and ache to do more, to do better.” The words were clearly painful for her to get out, she had never dare whispered a word of this to anyone let alone the woman she so desperately wanted to please.

ever her mother’s shadow, he cannot help but study here - as if she is splayed out on his table, something to dig into and excavate, gore-stained gloves that reek of smoke trying to find some special thing to manipulate. he spares no effort to play nice, only pushes further into being as abrasive as possible simply because she is on business for his gargantuan sister, delighting in the misery of watching dimitrescu blood be forced to keep up appearances. 

“oh, is that so? my apologies.” the drawl is heavy with sarcasm, a glint that is as ferocious as it is mischievous behind his glasses. he may be softer towards the girls, but is does not last long in the face of the possibility to get under his sister’s skin further. “what a good little dog you are. she trained you well, i’ll give her credit for that.”

he cannot blame her entirely for it - she is a thing that was created, pulled from her mortal life and out of the lazarus pit she emerged, ready to be molded into something that worships at the ground alcina, and by proxy, their self-declared divine mother’s feet. it is something he cannot fathom, he absence of fury at what was done to them. he watches her bristle, her black garb framed by the warm light that spills through the barn door speckled with dust and hay, looking for some sign that she - like him - has a hunger that cannot be satiated. the name he put to his own longing is vengeance, but for her, he cannot say. 

the letter remains ignored - unlike his devoted siblings, he feels no compulsion to answer to every whim and every order that is given to him. the feigned respect is given to miranda, but only to keep up the charade. here, with just the two of them, there’s no need to play nice. “not well enough, though. i suppose cassandra and daniela are simply too precious to be in my company, hm?” not like bela, thrown to the wolves. “or maybe you wanted to be the one creeping into my factory. you can admit it, i won’t tell,” the grin remains, as if he’s stumbled on some secret - he doubts it entirely, for bela is far too desperate to be the echo of their prim and proper mother, but the goading is all the same to him, “you want to see what’s outside your gilded cage, don’t you?”

      His sarcasm stung, but she dared not show it -- instead she fell into a very familiar state of apathy. He wanted to shake her so bad? She wouldn’t give him the damn satisfaction. The dog comment once again jabbed at her, but she was strong and proud. Much too proud to give into her animali- a snarl interrupted her thought as she snapped at him once again this time not bothering to hold back her distaste. What a fucking horrible manthing, he deserved to be cut to pieces by her fangs and claws for his clear lack of disrespect towards her entire bloodline. She did not find the truth in his words, as she stood there growling; not unlike the dog he described her to be. 

         As the letter remained cast aside, she had decided this was never going to be done the easy way. The comments about her sisters finally pushed her over the edge and she moved on instinct. Sharpened claws swiping at the man as a low irritated hissing and clicking came from deep within her chest. However as she missed the next comment caused her pupils to widen, how did he know about that? Bastard, was he watching her? She had made sure so many times that when she wandered into his territory that she kept a low profile. Her whole body language changed, alert like an animal; she stood cautiously. 

          “How did you know about that?”, not even realizing for a second that his trap had worked perfectly and the feral woman had been snared. Those questions posed no real threat, until she added truth to them, but Bela was much too logical for mind games like this. She took things too literally, and in turn, often played the fool to her sister’s childish games. -- and now HIS childish games. 

          “I didn’t realize you even bothered watching? Why do you care so much if I wander into the wheat fields?”, the questions were almost posed at herself as there was genuine confusion written all over her face. That truly was the only secret she kept from Mother, the fact that she liked to come and wander around the wheat fields and farms sometimes. Something deep inside her called for it, and found peace within it. Something the overly anxious girl hardly knew back at her home in the castle -- self-inflicted perfection had a high toll and the wheat fields was supposed to stay her little secret. So what did he know? Did he see her do something Mother would disapprove of? Surely not. Then again -- her attention shifted from him as she let out a confused chirp and tilted her head much like a curious creature. 

         Her thoughts raced every which way, trying to figure out what it was he found out about her. Was it the fact that she sometimes bit the wheat? It was more an impulse, Mother wouldn’t be upset about that. Was it the short naps she sometimes took? They never lasted more than ten minutes maximum. Was it the fact she liked to gawk at the farm animals? She’d never hurt any of them. -- surely none of these would upset her Mother? Would they? Was there something he knew that she didn’t? That wasn’t fair! 

you swallow pain & fold around it

↷ ☙   ——   @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.   “

       Getting to enjoy lunch with her former sister was a rare treat, but she had noticed the youngest Dimitrescu going out of her way to come visit her more often. It was a delight, and Bela was genuinely so happy to get to talk to someone who wasn’t part of her beloved new home. The dolls were great, almost as great as the real thing! -- or so she told herself. Mother had begun to speak to her more, murmurs and whispers in her ear that almost made up for the loneliness that had sept into the very bones of that old house. So, to say she was a bit excited was an understatement. Her walk was practically a skip, as she took great care not to jostle the basket or her dear doll that Mother had so delicately made just for her. 

      The words never seemed to stop, she just simply just had too much to say; with a frantic desperation that almost read as fear. As if she might never be permitted to see Daniela again, and so she spoke with haste trying to cram in as much in as possible. At times the rambles hardly even made any sense. However, that all came to an abrupt and sudden end as her cousin opened the clasps of her lunch box. The smell hit her hard, causing her mouth to water uncontrollably. The reaction caused the elder of the two to gasp and cover her mouth in horror; Mother would be disgusted with her if she saw her drooling like a mangy mutt over some meat. 

       --- And even then, she couldn’t help herself. The smell was too tempting as she lowered her hands and allowed herself to steal a huge whiff. Oh! It smelled like HOME, like her former Mother’s warm all encompassing embrace, like her sister’s perfumes wafting down the halls. It caused her heart to ache, but the smell was simply too good to turn her nose up at. Her own meal of soup and faux meat suddenly felt bland and uninteresting; even though it truly was her favorite of all of the Puppetmaster’s meals. Nothing ever compared to the real thing, no matter how much she tried to convince herself of that. 

           The doll nearby shifted it’s head and Bela’s pupils narrowed as they watched them from the corner of their eye. Mother was watching. “Oh, that is very generous of you Daniela. It would be very rude for me to eat your lunch though, you really should eat.” There was an uneasy nervousness in her voice that would give away her sudden shift in attitude. 

                                    The doll is ever watching, unblinking, unbreathing. 

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. ESPECIALLY SCOOB CAN HAVE THIS!! I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND SO MUCH!! SHE HELPS ME DEVELOP ALL THIS SHIT SO HERE PLEASE SCOOBY YOU’RE MY DIVINE LIGHT PLEASE PARTAKE. 

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.

so i rambled in my reply to you but i love a chance to feed peoples egos! the moment i saw your blog and how you were writing these big lengthy headcanons with so much thought put into them i was like..yes yes! i too never shut up, so immediately i was super here for it and ready for more delicious food. your bela is so fascinating to me, i love the little details you've incorporated from the concept art and her relationship with her family and especially her life prior - you've made her a fully fleshed character already and i'm very excited to see more of it! 10/10 can't wait to annoy my niece.

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&& Ruh-Roh. So I already rambled as well over you, but I just wanted to say thank you so much for this. I genuinely enjoy our chats and writing with you is already so much fun, your Karl makes me lose my shit every time he opens his mouth. -- Since I don’t want to tread on old ground with compliments I’ll give you a HC that legit I don’t think anyone else will give a rat’s ass about and I dunno where to put it so I’m going to put it right here in this ask...

Since Bela came from a wheat farm in her prior life, I actually do HC that she was in Karl’s territory. Her family was there for generations until eventually their bloodline ended for good, Bela carrying on the name of house Dimitrescu and all the other’s succumbing to a natural tragic death. Their family was eradicated from village history -- so my fun part of this because I love needless symbolism I think Bela had a farm horse. A really scruffy one that had a beautiful white coat, she stood out a lot because of her angelic voice and large white work horse. If the horse was bathed and dolled up, it would probably present as some extremely expensive prize horse but the truth is it’s still just a farm horse with a unique coat. So a play on Bela being a ‘noble’ but she was actually just a farm girl and it shows in bits of her humanity and personality that is left. Anyway here is a rough sketch concept of him, his name was probably something like Lord or Prince because that sucks. 

Hope you enjoy that pointless little headcanon I have had in my drafts LOL