#carmilla con

[gokired]

The poison I get is the stress from too much work from my job or no inspiration to get for my ideas but my way to heaven is having the thrill of adventure and of course MCM. Especially those loving cool demons.

Any helluvaboss #hazbinhotel fans out there, let’s rock some Hell!! @vivziebizzie you ROCK!!!

[mirmidones]

HAI VISTO MIMÌ???? Parere? 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

NO ALLORA 1) io ci sono andata perché ne hai parlato tu, neanche la trama mi sono letta 2) titoli di testa e viene fuori tipo "festival dell'horror" e io ma in che senso horror? pikachu.jpg per intenderci 3) a metà ho avuto il terrore che diventasse più tragedia che horror ma poi per fortuna è apparso nosferatu e mi sono rilassata ☺️ 4) lucia di blanca non sapevo che ci sarebbe stata ma l'ho riconosciuta immediatamente ed è stato traumatico perché per me lei c'ha 12 anni e "mimì toccami" anche no grazie. però mi ha fatto piacere vederla :) 5) IL MAFIOSO CHE AVEVA IL FETISH DEI PIEDI LO SAPEVO IO LO SAPEVO, che fosse gay neanche lo dubitavo ma la cosa dei piedi è stato un tocco di classe 😌 6) che look pazzesco che aveva mimì alla fine.... 7) la specificità di codogno mi ha fatto molto ridere. potevano dire semplicemente milano, ma no, codogno 8) c'è stato un lungo momento in cui io e l'amica che ho trascinato con me a vederlo facevamo congetture sul significato simbolico del livello di ricciolosità dei capelli di mimì. 9) vabbe' non so perché sono partita con i punti, ma in generale mi è piaciuto molto, anche perché non mi sembra un genere tipico di un film italiano

[thatstudyblrontea]

Under a narrow, arched doorway, surmounted by one of those demoniacal grotesques in which the cynical and ghastly fancy of old Gothic carving delights, I saw very gladly the beautiful face and figure of Carmilla enter the shadowy chapel.

Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

No, but you don't understand just how much I love this sentence, this image. The opposition between the 'demoniacal' figure and Carmilla's beauty, reinforced by the adverb 'gladly'. The fact that it perfectly references the main themes – illusion and deception – of the novella, because Mircalla hides her horrifying nature underneath the disguise of her physical beauty, while the figure that the narrator describes as 'demoniacal', that has been designed to be scary, can't actually do any harm.

And the implicit contrast between the 'shadowy chapel' and the light of day from which Carmilla is coming from. And yet, Carmilla is also entering the shadows, the dark is paradoxically about to enlighten her true nature. The moment she walks through that door, despite the visual contrast, she actually aligns with the demoniacal.

[lilredrose-cosplaycreator]

Gen con 2023 prep

[nguyeningit]

So many things...

So, I created this A Clockwork Orange homage variant cover for Carmilla Unbound from Bloodline Comics (There’s a NSFW version too!). The book is almost 80% funded and features some amazing variant covers (one by Ryan Kincaid!) And a talented creative team comprised of David Schrader, Clay Adams, Ismael Canales, Alex Zeif & Malissa White! Click here to get this exclusive cover Click here to get…

[bombuni]

Hiii! Can you write about Yeosang, San and Wooyoung? But if you're not okay with three of them, choose any two of them!

midnight stroll

summary: In which you find yourself in the hands of some insatiable, obsessed vampire lords. There’s only one way out. genre/pairing: vampire!woosansang x fem!reader, smut wc: 2.8k warnings: SMUT MDNI, dub-con (reader is swayed into it), predator/prey kink, primal play, chase (?) scene, their spit is an aphrodisiac, biting, a lil blood kink, they are in heat (i <3 horny vampires), creampie bom note: idk why i haven’t done this combo before as a person obsessed with carmilla & atz. lmk what u guys think, this is my first time writing a sort of horror (?) trope :)! pls heed warnings & safe reading bbies! enjoy!

You shouldn’t have gone out at night.

Every single bone-chilling story your mother used to frighten you into staying home now replays inside your head. It’s ridiculous how easily every murderous detail comes to your mind now that you’re actively living those stories. Lost little girl, all on her own, in a strange house on a rainy night.

You don’t know why tonight, of all nights, you decided to explore the old mansion that’s always stood tall in your neighborhood. You just felt something was telling you to come and visit. Every time you’d look out of your window, there it was. Alone and creaking for no one, wood rotting at every turn you make. You’re sure it was beautiful and sparkling in its heyday but now with no one to present for, it’s covered in cobwebs and dust.

The loud boom of thunder strikes and you jump through the threshold of a bedroom. The moonlight that shines in through the tall windows illuminates the tears in the blood red canopy. The bed is perfectly made, untouched by rest. The room is surprisingly large, only occupied by a few pieces of complicated furniture. Its marvelousness is enunciated because of its age. The darkness of the room is only broken by a candle on the bedside table.

Already lit.

You hope, pray, that it’s only another curious soul like you. That you haven’t stumbled upon some creep’s secret hideout and inadvertently become his next victim.

You start to back away. The floorboards creak under every step you take. You’re suddenly hyper aware of every breath you take and the speed of your heartbeat. Your body screams to run, nerves fighting and pulling you towards the exit, but your mind is frozen with the fear of being caught.

A harsh wind bites against the glass, making your blood ice cold in its wake and scaring any rationality out of you.

It doesn’t stop. It probably won’t for a while, and you’re forced to come to the realization that you’re stuck here. It’s either be picked up by high-speed winds or be hacked to pieces by whoever’s decided to shack up in this old, abandoned mansion. One is a definite and the other is a chance. You decide that if tonight’s the night you die by axe murder, so be it.

The dead tree branches keep scratching against the windows. Like they’re trying to talk to you, telling you to turn around as you venture deeper into the room. You want to listen.

But there’s a slam. Different from the thunderous weather outside. It’s closer and harsher in your eardrums, accompanied by booming footsteps that make your face fall and doom fill your senses. Whoever it is is making a beeline towards the room you’re in. They’re arguing with someone, frustration evident in their voice.

“Wooyoung, you were supposed to keep your eye on her.”

“It’s fucking pouring outside! How can I see when God is clearly trying to drown us all again?”

Their voices are muffled, but the danger is still clear. They have funny, unrecognizable accents that you’ve never heard before. You can’t really pinpoint it, as you’re focused on figuring out a way to get the fuck out of there.

Your panic rises as you hear the footsteps stop and no more conversation. The pause makes you hurry, fearing they’ve somehow sniffed you out. The greed of whoever built this room gives you no hiding spot, the free and large space being more of a dancefloor than an enclosed bedroom.

The knob to the room turns. With effort, the door creaks open. It introduces fear and an overwhelming panic into your system as your entire body shakes. You just hope to God that they don’t decide to check under the bed.

“I can smell you.”

Your breath catches. You think that if you stop breathing and scrunch your eyes hard enough, you’ll be back in the warmth of your room. But this is real. Every creaking floorboard, every quiet grunt, and every slow step proves it. It’s nearing you, testing the air to find your exact location. You know it’s an it, because how else could it have possibly figured you out so quickly?

“Your heart is racing like a rabbit. Pitter patter. Come out already.”

You cover your mouth to silence the scream of fear that wants to escape. It’s by the bed now. Stopped right behind you, as if it could see you right through the bedsheets and under the springs. The bed creaks as it slowly clambers onto it.

It sees you. It knows what you are and where you are. You’re simply staving off time until it decides to eat you whole. It’s toying with you.

Your body moves on its own as a cold feeling encloses around your ankle, freezing you over. The thing laughs at you, like the way you scramble from it is the most hilarious thing it’s ever seen. Your legs wobble and weaken at the frightening sound, but you run steadfast.

The hallways are long and winding. The only light source as you try to figure a way out of the castle is the lighting that crashes through every few seconds. Your sides start hurting after a few minutes of running in circles. Stuck and hurting in an unfamiliar place is not how you want to spend your evening. You slow down to catch your breath, finding yourself in some sort of lounge room. The fireplace burns on, and you realize the sight of these flames brings you no warmth. It only strikes unrelenting fear in you. The room is nicely decorated and homely, like it was never touched by time. The scene almost looks inviting. Almost, if it weren’t for the hauntingly alluring painting watching over you atop the fireplace. The three men face forward and are creepily stiff, jet black hair gelled back and their dark outfits perfect to a fault. The only odd thing is their eerie, sharp smiles that show off their red-stained, shining teeth. Like a wolf’s last warning before they sink their teeth into you.

You’re sort of hypnotized by the pretty strokes, but a voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Little rabbit, why do you run?”

Your legs move on their own once again, but before you can even move an inch, two pairs of arms wrap around you. Their hold is impossibly tight, like they’re still trying to figure out their own limit before they accidentally pop you open. That same voice that laughed at you before is right in your ear now, giggling maniacally and digging their sharp nose into your neck.

They inhale deeply, “Smell that, Yeosang. It’s like nothing I’ve smelled before. Wouldn’t you agree, San?”

The owner of the other voice, San you assume, stands from the dark leather chair facing the fire. He seems otherworldly. Dangerous.

His voice is low, “Little rabbits always smell good.”

The one who you presume to be Yeosang presses himself into you until you’re practically breathing through the same lungs, “Especially when they’re so afraid.”

You shut your eyes in fear when he drags the sharpest canines you’ve ever felt along the warmth of your neck, “Whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want,”

The way your voice shakes only lures San in. He tuts at you, “You shouldn’t make such promises to us, darling.”

You can feel all three streams of breath on you. They’re all overpowering and oppressive in their own way, crushing your resolve until you’re practically jelly at their touch. The two holding you won’t stop nosing into you and exploring you, hands crawling under your shirt and lifting your skirt as if they have no control over themselves. They’re surprised by your warmth, smitten and addicted to it already. It’s something they haven’t really felt before. At least not recently.

Your breath shakes as their cold hands slide over your tummy, “Just-just let me go, I won’t tell anyone what happened. I promise.”

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung seems to grow impatient and drags his wet, languid tongue over your pulse point before biting down gently, restraining himself. He savors the salt of your skin, wondering if that’s how your tears taste. Or if they’re even more delectable.

The wetness of his mouth that sticks to your skin sets you on fire. Your skin is tingly, too warm to be yours now. You know he’s marked you somehow because you can feel your entire body burning up, passion and craving reaching limits you’ve never reached.

San bares his fangs and the glint of them takes your breath away, “I told you to be patient,”

“Oh, just smell her, San. I had to taste her,” Wooyoung’s voice is muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

You can feel the heat of his lips crawling up your spine. Yeosang’s hand on your hip leaves a trail of desire everywhere. Everything feels different. Better.

You’re still rational enough to know that something’s not quite right inside of you, “What’s happening to me?”

Your voice is shaky, meek, weak, and San loves it. He can feel his grasp on himself slipping, his mouth salivating at the sight of you being touched and felt.

Ever since their heat began, their bodies only craved you. Out of the hundreds of mindless people in their area, you’re the only one they’ve figured could handle them. There was something about you even they, as supreme beings, couldn’t figure out. They want to keep you as their own personal pet and find out.

Wooyoung is buzzing with energy all over you, “Don’t you feel it? You’re becoming ours,”

Is that what you felt before coming here? Is this where you’re meant to be? Consumed wholly by creatures of the night?

Yeosang’s hand snakes down the band of your skirt, lengthy fingers easily sliding in between your folds. Wooyoung chuckles at your reaction, breathing in your sweet scent, “Little wet rabbit.”

The squelch sounds out into the room and you can hardly believe your ears, “W-wait, please-“

San makes his way to you in two quick strides, suddenly kissing you as if trying to swallow you whole. You feel his voice in the back of your throat, “I can’t take it anymore. I need to ravage you.”

Yeosang’s hand doesn’t stop running over you and playing with your wetness, “I just need to taste you. Just once. Then I’ll stop, rabbit.”

Something happens to you when San’s lips are against you, tongue fighting against yours. Your body surrenders itself to him, to all of the hands that are on you. There isn’t any fear inside of you anymore, in fact, you find the fact that you ever felt any in the first place hilarious. How could you? How could you when Yeosang is so lovingly pleasing you? How could you when Wooyoung is sucking and licking at your neck like it’s a lifeline? How could you when San is kissing you wholly, taking your heart out for himself through your lips? They’re right. This is where you’re supposed to be.

Yeosang can feel the moment you truly surrender yourself to them, the wetness between his fingers overflowing now. He attempts to rub at your bundle of nerves, but grows frustrated when your tight skirt gets in the way of his movements. Before you can say anything, he rips the skirt off you, tearing into the material like it’s nothing to him.

He throws the fabric somewhere into the room before kneeling down in front of you. You’re too enraptured by San’s lips to notice him, and he pouts at that.

Yeosang holds your trembling thighs and licks a long stripe onto your pussy lips, looking up at you with sweet, begging eyes. When you gasp and look down at the feeling of his tongue against you, there’s newfound vigor in his face. Yeosang sucks onto your lips, the taste of you quelling his need. He doesn’t care how messy he gets as he spreads your juices over your thighs and all over his mouth, moaning as he feels how utterly desperate your hole is. He plays with your entrance, trying to figure out what makes your knees buckle. As his lips move to depravely kiss at your clit, you almost fall down with him.

San’s strong arms catch your waist easily, “That’s it, little rabbit. Give yourself to us.”

You nod your head and Wooyoung laughs obnoxiously at your pathetic answer, “Look at the poor thing. She’s sopping wet.”

Yeosang smiles dreamily up at you with your cum on his face. He wipes at his face but it doesn’t do much, the glint shining in the light of the thunderstorm. He licks his lips hungrily, “You taste sweet. Like candy.”

San growls impatiently, bending you over a beautifully carved sofa. You feel bad staining it with your pleasure, but the owners don’t seem to mind. His cock, large and forbidding, presses against your entrance. He leans over your back until his nose reaches that sweet point connecting your jaw and neck. The one that revealed everything about you and your sweetness through your electrifying scent. He feels his addiction grow with every inhalation.

He takes a big breath as his cock finally slides into you, every inch adding onto the tingling satisfaction passing through all of his body as he nestles himself inside of you. His cock has no trouble slipping through the wetness that spills out of you, the moist warmth of your pussy filling his gut with an unfamiliar burn. His hand moves up along the front of your body, grabbing tightly onto your jaw to hold you in place. His sharp claws dig into your blushing cheek.

San fucks you with a barely-there restraint, huffing into your ears as he drills into you. He seems to have forgotten his past hesitance, in fear of scaring you. Now all that’s left is his raw need and desire for you, this intense ache taking over as he continues stretching you open. Your hole feels better than he ever could imagine, ever could bear. Every squeeze you give sends him reeling, his gut tightening with every thrust.

Wooyoung replaces San’s hand on your jaw, puckering your lips and laughing as your entire body jolts against San. He bares his fangs with a wide smile, razor-sharp and primed for poaching. He licks down your neck, savoring the taste of your humanity, your beating heart. The constant song within you is entrancing.

Wooyoung can’t resist. His canines sink into your shoulder, his eyes rolling back into his head when he finally gets a taste of the real you. It’s exhilarating, dizzying. Frenzied and fervent now, Wooyoung licks at the fresh wound he’s made, the tiniest dribble of red trickling down. Every one of your liquids is just so, so intoxicating.

He feels the effects of you, “My delicious pet rabbit. Mine, mine, mine.”

You whine against Wooyoung as your mind is clouded with pleasure and pain, San’s thick cock still hitting deeper and sparking your gummy walls with an intense gratification. There’s a meek voice in the back of your head telling you to wake up, but it’s quickly drowned out as Yeosang kisses slow, lithe kisses along the skin of your opposite shoulder. He’s watching as you’re treated like a piece of meat by San, teary-eyed and trembling, and can’t believe he’s ever gone without you. Without the smell of your heady, inflaming sex filling his senses or the sight of your abused, puffy pussy.

He takes another giant breath in of your rousing scent before biting down, his canines piercing you just as Wooyoung’s did. Yeosang shudders at the taste of you, a bright, addicting flavor. You’re simply made for them.

He mutters as you moan against him, “What a slutty little rabbit you are.”

The second Yeosang’s fangs rip through you, San fills your gummy walls. His cum marks and ruins you for anyone else. He growls animalistically against you as you tighten and squeeze, biting into his fist and drawing enough blood that it drips down from his arm onto your back. He still tries to hold back for you. Even in his most raw and savage, with his hips still moving and deliriously fucking his cum back into you and making a mess, he tries not to cause you pain. Not anymore at least.

San’s gravelly voice reaches down to your bones, his entire body tightening up against you as more and more cum jolts into you, “There you go, little rabbit. Stuffed full. Don’t you feel better?”

You feel it dripping between your thighs. The pearlescent liquid that used to make you feel scandalized, demeaned. It gives you a purpose now, to be used as their rabbit. Their meal to be devoured.

[gunpowderdtim]

honestly the bifrost incident rocks as a title but good lord mechanisms. you all regularly attended a convention called the nine worlds and carmilla with lashings was at a con called Bifrost. everything is so confusing. at leasts its their last album so i can do before:2018 (ish) to filter it all

[toukacifer]

Vaggie entrenando con (su mamá) Carmilla

[patacrepe-san]

Vaggie Carmine AU part. 1

Okay, I’ve got a lot to get through and not a lot of time so here it goes.

Right after the extermination, Clara and Odette are scouring through the streets, retrieving angelic weapons from sinner’s corpses.

In a back alley, the two sisters stumble upon an unconscious girl clad in Exorcist’s gear, missing an eye and bathing in her own golden blood.

They are puzzled by the sight, not understanding why this angel was left in hell nor how did she get hurt.

They contemplate leaving her like this, but after thinking it through the sisters ultimately decide to make it their mother’s problem and bring Vaggie back to the compound.

Having been in the weapon dealing business for a few cycles, Carmilla is no stranger to unexpected complications. Yet, even she does not know how she’s supposed to react to her daughters bringing back an angel with multiple mortal injuries to her doorstep.

While tending to her wounds, Carmilla notices how messy and bloody the base of Vaggie’s wings are. Whoever tore off this girl’s wings, they clearly enjoyed taking their time doing it.

When she wakes up, Vaggie is confused to see that her injuries have been treated, and she was definitely sure that she lost consciousness in a street and not inside a lavish apartment…

And her ponderings stop when she notices the demon standing in the room, observing her with a cold gaze.

She wants to flee, but she is still way too weak from her injuries and fall flat on the floor as soon as she tries to stand up.

Carmilla makes Vaggie sit on a chair before her desk and boy she has questions!

Vaggie avoids giving too much information, answering Carmilla with short answers like “Yes” or “No”, both out of distrust of the overlord and of lingering loyalty towards Heaven.

Still, Vaggie lets it slip that she can’t go back to Heaven.

Carmilla can feel a headache as she thinks about the situation. If the angel is left alone in hell, she’d forever be a potential threat for all of Hell.

And should an overlord manage to make a deal with her, they’d gain an invincible soldier at their disposal.

After weighing the pros and cons for a few minutes, Carmilla comes up to Vaggie with an ultimatum.

“You have two paths in front of you. The first one, the easy one, is where I kill you here and now. A swift shot through the head with one of my angelic weapons, it will be quick and painless for you. Or you can choose the painful one, and make a deal with me.”

Carmilla snaps her fingers, and a golden contract appears before her.

Carmilla will keep Vaggie’s true nature secret, and provide her with shelter and food for as long as she stays in hell. In exchange, Vaggie will have to work for her and will not be able to go against Carmilla’s commands. Those are the terms of the deal.

Vaggie knows better than making a deal with a demon, but what choice does she have? She picks up the pen.

So at this point Vaggie and Carmilla aren’t exactly fond of each other. They’ll be family one day, but it’ll get worse before it gets better though.

[fiendishfables]

Blog Fandoms + Rules [UPDATED]

Hazbin Hotel

Alastor (Platonic Only)

Angel Dust (Platonic Only)

Charlie Morningstar

Vaggie

Lucifer Morningstar

Vox

Valentino

Velvette

Carmilla

Adam

Lute

Cherri Bomb

Spiderverse (ITSV + ATSV)

Miguel O'Hara

Miles Morales

The Prowler

Gwen Stacy

Spider Noir

Hobie Brown

Pavitir Prabhakar

The Spot

What I WON'T write:

Rape/Non-con

Specific race 'x readers' (ex: Black! reader / Hispanic! reader) (I want everybody to be able to access and intake my writing how they see fit; I love people of all backgrounds, but I refuse to separate writings for certain groups of people. We are all equal here)

What I WILL write:

x Reader (Male, Female, GN)

x OC (be as detailed as possible about your character if requesting; looks, personality, etc)

CC x CC

NSFW/Smut (18+)

Onshots

Blurbs

Head-cannons

Series' (specify if you would like your request possibly split into multiple parts; no guarantees but I will consider)

Abuse

Addiction

Self-harm

Hurt/Comfort

Angst

Romance

Gore

Horror

NOTE: This is a temporary stand-in for an actual masterlist whilst I make one! These are the current fandoms I write for, keep in mind available characters and rules when requesting!

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!!!

[wolfoftheblackflames]

Hey, my misfits, who's hungry for more cute fluff, friends to lovers, and a tale as old as time?! Enjoy my Beauty and the Beast AU: Chaggie style!

The Devil and the Innocent: Pt.1

It was a long time ago, in a far-off place. A king had disappeared, leaving behind his daughter. The child was kind to a fault, but one day when the worst day of her life happened. She, in her fit of rage, brought hell upon her ex, the man had been caught cheating, locking herself away in her castle afterward, the Princess never came out again. “Why can't I find someone who loves me for me!” She would wail sobbing into her pillows.

Her cries were answered when an enchantress disguised as an old crone appeared at the door. Still in pain and distraught with none to comfort her, the Princess turned said woman away to the cold, apologizing as she closed the door. “Your heart has been shattered. You choose to live in isolation away from those you care about. Surely, this will help you find the one you seek.”

In a matter of moments the Princess crumbled forward, her body growing bigger and stronger. Her own workers also felt this change shifting into many different things to reflect the cruel joke the Enchantress placed upon the crew.

Thus was how the Devil and her mysterious castle came to be.

A sigh escaped the reader's lips, the Latina with the most beautiful shade of jade to her eye closed her book. “Thanks for reading to us, Miss Vagatha!” A child cooed smiling.

“Of course, now run along, I only said one story before your chores.” Vaggie smiled as the children giggled and scattered. She leaned back and sighed, wondering what books she could find or what her adopted mother Carmilla Carmine was making this time.

She got up dusting her beautiful white sundress off and hosting the brown leather bag over her shoulder. Vagatha or as most would call her Vaggie was the talk of the town, her elegant yet calm demeanor, her skills as a folk dancer, and the fact that she was the daughter of the King's best arms dealer Carmilla Carmine.

The people of Little Pride watched the woman walk through the streets.“Bonjour!” several greeted her smiling. Others watched her with skeptical looks.

“She's an oddball that one, she's beauty and grace despite the eyepatch that's on her face.” A woman spoke to her friend as they gossiped.

“Her face was either lost in dancing or pressed in a book.” The other replied as Vaggie paid no mind to them.

“She hardly ever has to look!” One child cooed seeing Vaggie effortlessly dodging the many carts.

Her stroll through the town was a simple one, she smiled softly entering one of her favorite stores, Angel's Archive, a bookstore run by the cutest south indian bookworm Emily and her mother Sera. “Hello Vaggie, are you here for the latest copy of Arms and Armor?” The bubbly browned haired girl asked, smiling.

“You know it.” The other girl replied, being handed the book.

“Thanks again for the continued patronage!” Emily grinned as Vaggie paid for the book. “My pleasure, see you, Em.”

---

Vaggie casually wandered through the town on her way home, she always loved the rustic architecture, and the knights that would rarely pass by in order to restock their gear. “Well well, hello there Vagasaurus.” A scratchy male voice smirked, his tall muscular chubby body towering over her as Vaggie had sat down on the local fountain to read her book.

Her eye narrowed. “Haven't I told you not to call me that Adam?” She growled. “Need me to kick your ass again?”

“Ooo I love a woman who can kick ass. You're just making me the dickmaster hard babe.” Adam grinned, making Vaggie get up.

“¿por qué tengo que lidiar con este idiota…” (Why do I have to deal with this dick head) “Seriously Adam, fuck off.” The Latina stated walking away.

“Ooo I love it when your accent comes out, so exotic.” He purred. “Bet you're also still salty you got canned from the Exorcist Platoon for losing your eye.” He smirked, poking an old wound.

“And you're bringing this up, why?” Vaggie growled, her head starting to ache.

“Cause even if you play civilian, that doesn't mean I'll not recognize one of my top girls when you're out of uniform Vagasaurus.” Adam laughed, twirling on his finger, her old badge. “Though ya might wanna trim that mop of yours.” He smirked, motioning to the knee-length hair.

Vaggie's eye twitched as she couldn't hold back her temper anymore. “Apenada Carmilla…” (Sorry) She muttered under her breath and decked Adam in his stupid face. The taller man stumbled back but he smirked.

“There's the killer I know and love.” He purred satisfied. Vaggie soon hurried home, her heart racing from adrenaline.

Home however was on the outskirts of the town, it was a large grey stone building with smoke coming out of its chimney. Vaggie quietly ducked inside not noticing the fact Adam and his band had followed. Carmilla was often crafting new weapons with the help of her daughters, Vaggie was grateful to the arms dealer who had taken her in when she was abandoned on the outskirts after a nasty skirmish.

That day made the ex soldier shudder, it was a raid Adam led on a small outpost, but said outpost was actually a town filled with aboriginal people living their humble lives. “You'll surrender everything to us or your lives are forfeit!” The blood thirsty ex coworker Lute had roared.

The people didn't surrender, it was a bloodbath, Vaggie went into one of the homes and found two children and their mother shaking. Seeing their scared eyes still haunted Vaggie. “Get out of here, go now!” She had spoken, sending the trio away.

This didn't sit well with Adam who had seen it. While the others were distracted, he had ordered Lute to punish the traitor.

Vaggie broke out of her trance upon hearing the doors. “Not you again!” She growled seeing Adam.

“What? I won't take no for an answer, you'll be mine and it'll be great. I am thee dickmaster.” Adam smirked casually sitting down and mansplaning like he owned the place.

Vaggie sighed. No matter how many times she said no, this douche kept pressing despite the fact she wasn't really into men at all or anyone right now for that matter. She smirked evilly when Adam started munching loudly on chips. “Oh Adam, could you scoot to your right please?” She batted her eyelashes.

The idiot grinned, finally getting his way moving to the right so she could sit with him. “That's more like it..” He licked his lips. Vaggie casually did her alluring dance heading over to a lever. “Wait what?!”

“You really are stupid, wow. Anyway get the fuck outta my house!” She pulled it and sent Adam tumbling out through a trapdoor.

“Fucking bitch!!!!!” He roared splashing into the lake nearby. He growled, poking his head out of the water as Lute shook her head. “Not a word Lute..” He snarled and left with her.

Carmilla clapped, surprising Vaggie who blinked. “Never liked that man. Well done.” She smiled with her own two toned brown hair up as demon horns. “Now come along, I need your help in inspecting some weaponry.” Her voice was warm and motherly.

Carmilla was in her casual black tunic and slacks, she even sported some white gloves, a white and red pouch on her side, and some beautiful white boots.

Vaggie smiled and followed her, relieved that some of her soldier days could be useful.

“I was asked to head over to Zestial's domain for some tea and a business proposal.” Carmilla spoke after sorting through several weapons. “I'll be gone for a few days as the trip there is long.” She added and looked at Vaggie.

“Alright, but isn't Zestial’s territory beyond the Hellfire woods?”

“It is, but I've traveled it many times, and I can take care of myself.” Carmilla replied casually tapping her feet. Vaggie always found it so cool that her mentor had blades in her shoes since it made the fools drop their guard. “Now make sure the latest shipment is ready for transport, I'm sure Odette and Clara will be back soon with their wagons.”

Vaggie saluted and nodded. It made Carmilla chuckle a bit, but she then smiled warmly. “Umm?” Vaggie blinked confused.

“Here, I heard you lost yours during the skirmish, ex soldier.” The taller woman handed Vaggie a beautiful looking spear.

It was no secret to the Carmine family that Vaggie used to be a soldier. Carmilla being the first to notice. The spear looked similar to Vaggie's old one but instead of one side with a curved blade, it was wider, sharper, and hooked on both sides. “R-really? Is it for me Ms. Carmine?” She asked as she was baffled.

“Of course, you've proven yourself time and time again with keeping my home safe, Vaggie.” Carmilla replied but blinked, receiving a brief hug. She laughed a bit and petted Vaggie on the head.

It was soon time for the taller woman to depart as she climbed into the driver seat. She easily took the reigns of a handsome black and white stallion named Diablo. “Good luck on your trip Ms. Carmine!” Vaggie waved as the other woman departed.

-----

Elsewhere in the local tavern Adam was sulking. He couldn't believe that bitch Vaggie managed to pull one over on him. “Sir, no need to be so hung up over that traitor. After all you're Adam, the first man to ever conquer a village of over fifty thousand people.” Lute stated annoyed by his sulking.

Adam grumbled looking briefly at his second in command. He had to admit despite the vicious nature which he loved, Lute did have the hotter look with the short black bob, pale peach skin, grey armor over her black bodysuit, plus those sexy white gloves and heels. “I just hate it when I don't get what I want.” He replied grumpily.

Lute smirked a bit and handed him his favorite instrument. “It's annoying sir to see you so down.” She started as Adam blinked. He smirked and started to jam with his favorite girl. “Who cares about that mop bucket piece of shit bitch. You're the Dick fucking master.” She hyped him up, making Adam laugh with glee.

The girls easily swooned over Adam since the man often exposed his sexy chest hair through his white and gold long robe jacket, his lavender tunic underneath alongside some casual black trousers and boots. If there was any word to describe this man it would be “bear”.

“I am the man with the best dick around, come on ladies let's get down!” He roared into song, jamming hard. Though after his fun tavern party Lute took him aside. “Huh what's up danger tits?”

“Want to get back at the cunt?” She asked evilly. Adam's reply was a huge evil smirk. “Alright then, here's what I have in mind sir.”

-----

On the open road, Carmilla's carriage made its way to the cursed forest, its soft red mist echoing that of entering hell. She found it amusing and liked the route since it kept bandits off her ass. Diablo, however, whinnied and started to fuss. “What's wrong boy, ¿Estás asustado por algo?” (Are you spooked by something?) She spoke softly, trying to soothe the stallion.

He stomped his hooves and tried to wrestle free of his carriage binds. “Ah!” Carmilla yelped, being tossed off as Diablo managed to smash the carriage into a tree. “Diablo?!” She blinked but growled stranded in the forest.

Through some exploration, the woman found something she'd never seen before, a white and gold castle with the skies reddening as she got closer. Cautiously she knocked on the large wooden doors which made the door creep open.

“Who the hell is that broad?” A voice spoke. “Someone whose lost their fuckin way dipshit.” Another answered. “Quiet you two dumbasses.” The third hushed them.

“Tch, I don't like this..” Carmilla looked around the grand red entryway, it had a red brick staircase leading upward with golden handles and railing. The floor was a more muted grey with it being decorated by a large carpet bearing the symbol of two snakes intertwining over an apple.

“Not another word outta you two got it? Seriously Angel and Cherri learn to shut the fuck up.” A voice spoke quietly.

“Look can someone please come fucking out already? I lost my horse and the town's too far away to walk back.” Carmilla growled softly. “I'm willing to pay you for letting me stay the night since I don't want to walk back with it being so dark out.”

“Oooh wow, a bitch with an attitude. I like her.” Cherri smirked watching the tall woman.

“C'mon Husk she's got no place ta go.” Angel replied as Husk groaned.

Carmilla blinked, turning her head around picking up Angel as Cherri who had been turned into a wind up monkey smirked. “Who the fuck said that?!”

“Oooh, check out the mommy dommy hands on this one Angie!” Cherri grinned as Carmilla blinked, staring at her. “Hi there.”

“What the fuck?!” The woman replied as she then looked over at the snickering Angel. He was a four armed candlestick with five flames.

“Hiya mommy.” He playfully snickered.

“Now you've done it.” Husk sighed, being a talking wind up tuxedo cat.

Carmilla just blinked at the two, clearly confused. “How the fuck are you moving?” She had dropped Angel only to pick up Husk, curious as to how a children's toy is moving on its own.

“Long story I tell ya.” Angel snickered seeing Husk being toyed with. “Hey, quit it!” The cat hissed but blinked, noticing a small bit of blood on Carmilla's head.

“Dios mio..” (Oh my god) Carmilla sighed feeling like she's lost it.

“Oy demon lady, you're bleedin’.” Angel replied, waving one of his candles. “Follow us and we'll get that looked at.”

Carmilla grumbled but followed the odd trio of objects into the next room, not noticing the looming shadow that watched her from above.

“Ugh you two are gonna piss off the princess.” Husk muttered but moved aside as a cart wheeled over to Carmila who had been led to sit down in a rather large red velvet chair. “And we don't need another one of those rage moments.”

“Care for a nice cup of tea dearie?” A warm voice came from the beautiful Victorian style red and grey tea pot.

“Oh.. Um..” Carmilla looked a little surprised when a coat rack was bandaging her head. “Alright?”

“How about some music as well my dear?” A voice came from a rather nice looking mahogany radio with black knobs and glowing green lights.

“Ugh you idiots are going to alert the Devil.” Husk groaned, but the radio chuckled.

“Oh no need to be in such a tizzy Husker, a little music doesn't hurt anybody. Right Rosie?” Two beating red eyes looked over at the tea kettle.

“Of course Alastor, music is quite a nice way to enjoy some tea dearie.”.

Carmilla picked up the cup and took a sip from it. “Nyeh, why am I against a lady's lips!” A shrill voice came from the red tea cup as two cute yellow eyes blinked at Carmilla.

“What the fuck?!” She blinked but looked over the cup.

Quacking was heard as a footstool waddled its way over lifting Carmilla's feet up. Though it was strange and felt like a drug trip, Carmilla didn't seem to mind the great hospitality.

The crew jolted hearing the door slam open off its hinges. “Here we go…” Husk gulped. Carmilla growled, getting up fast and ready to fight, however she was easily subdued by powerful black claws coming around her neck.

“Who are you, why are you here?” That voice came out low and growly. Carmilla stared at the figure before her, her eyes wide. “Doesn't matter you're not welcome here…” The beast snarled, dragging Carmilla off as the other tried to follow.

Carmilla couldn't believe her eyes, whatever had her by the neck with ease was a giant massive beast with blonde fur, a wolf like snout, cloven red hooves, deep white eyes with red sclera, two red horns sticking out of its head, and a long spiked black tail with a triangular tip. “El diablo mismo…” (The Devil itself.) escaped her lips as the beast growled at her.

“What the fuck are you saying? Are you staring at me?!” The beast snarled slamming Carmilla into a wall. “I bet you've come to stare at the Devil huh? Well you've found her.”

“Hey hey! Princess, you're going to kill her!” Angel stated, waving at her.

“I'd love to see the blood bath.” Niffty giggled watching.

“All I wanted was a place to rest for the night. Agh…” Carmilla felt that grip tighten.

The Devil narrowed her eyes and growled. “I'll give you a damn place to stay as you wish.” She dragged Carmilla to the dungeons and locked the woman inside. “Now stay there and enjoy your new home.”

“What?!” Carmilla snapped trying to get out to no avail. “Damn it…” She growled, lowering her head.

(Heyo, I hope you guys like the fic so far, I literally worked several hours on this part alone. I'm breaking this down into parts from Beginning Middle and End with the full version being on my Ao3 for all to read. Thanks for reading!)

[diffidentphantom]

End Of The Line (Alastor x F!Reader) Prologue

Summary: Sylvia Moore is the youngest child and only daughter of her family. Due to this, she was used to being a bit spoiled and getting her way. And when at a gala, she’s introduced to an up-and-coming radio host, Alastor Hartfelt, by her older brother. She decides rather quickly that she wants Alastor. (Luckily for her, he feels the same way) And nothing, not even the forces of heaven or hell could keep them separated. 

Characters: Named Y/N Reader, Original Character(s), Alastor, Mimzy, Rosie, Husk, Niffty, Vox, Valentino, Velvette, Carmilla, Zestial, Odette, Clara, Lucifer, Lilith, Charlie, Vaggie, Adam, Lute, Emily, St. Peter

Warnings (PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING STORY): 3rd POV, Dark Romance, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Obsession, Possessiveness, Stalking, Kidnapping, Mentions of Torture, Graphic Scenes of Torture, Mentions of Murder, Murder, Mentions of Cannibalism, Demiromantic Alastor, Non-Sex Repulsed Alastor, Historical Inaccuracy, Class Stratification, Period Typical Racism, Period Typical Sexism, Courting Rituals, Religious Undertones, Demons and Angels, Fallen Angels, Magick, Redemption, Talk's of Abusive Relationships, Non-Con, Dub-Con, SMUT - in later chapters, BDSM,

Nothing bad ever happened in heaven. 

After all, how could it? Anyone who ever had an evil thought or did anything bad was cast into a separate realm. Where they were punished eternally for their crimes. 

Whereas those with pure souls without flaws and who had never done anything wrong; were allowed beyond the pearly gates and into paradise. 

This was why when Sylvia Hartfelt met St. Peter after she died in 1933, the seraphims and archangels were at a loss for what to do for once. 

While her soul was indeed pure, it wasn’t without flaws. Because if you peered deep enough, into the depths of her very soul. You could see a small, inky black stain. And because it was so close to the space near her heart, it was practically hidden. 

Eventually, after a few decades' worth of debates - while Sylvia herself drifted mindlessly in limbo - it was decided that Sylvia would still be allowed into paradise despite the stain. 

This was perhaps heaven's biggest mistake and ultimate flaw on their end.

They should have at least looked closer at her wedding vows.

"While some vows have death do us part, Alastor, my love. I want it stated for the record that not even heaven or hell could keep us apart."

[thatstudyblrontea]

But into what quackeries will not people rush for a last chance, where all accustomed means have failed, and the life of a beloved object is at stake?

Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

[prince-liest]

oh my god. your wording in one of ur latest anon answers. does…. is val the only one who does the dumping? does vox never dump val??? i always like… idk i assumed that they both broke it off in a never ending downward spiral, mutually. but oh my GOD? you’re saying val is the only one doing the breaking up? i….. this is shifting my entire perspective on vox. HOLD ON. HOLD ON. not to beat a dead dove here (that was a brilliant pun yes i’m stealing it), but……… this is sliding right into my vault where i keep my Vox and Domestic Violence Thoughts. he just seems so…. helpless. he’s helpless all the time and in complete denial about it. at first it was clear he’s pretty helpless around alastor -in both canon and your fic. alastor is stronger, and also, in the beginning had the Extreme emotional upper hand. i knew this, yet, like in canon, i assumed more or less alastor was the chink in his armor. vox DOES run the vee’s competently, he handles val, and he’s arguably the fourth most powerful sinner in hell (behind zestial, carmilla, and alastor). those 3 things are true, AND YET. let’s look behind the wizards curtain. how does vox live his Personal life. not his job or position of power. how does his close relationships define him. let’s see now. the initial intense obsession with alastor, which had ONLY left him rejected and humiliated. helpless. and now val. i Assume vox enacts some physical violence on val, too, but something in his wording in the last installment. vox made the point to compare alastors straight up murder attempts to how val acts. i do not think vox does that with val, at least not in a trivial and common manner (he has said the vee’s have all killed e/o before). and when i said “sure he can act disgruntled and upset in the moment” in another ask, i MEANT that vox could break up with val for a couple days before crawling right back like nothing happened. but NO. NOT EVEN THAT. vox endures, and he ultimately does Nothing. NOTHING. and not even that, he is subjected to val breaking it off in a cyclic manner, for superficial or nonexistent issues. and then after a week val will call and vox will come crawling back like nothing happened, and the timer for 4 months begins again. through everything, EVERYTHING, vox really just seems… passive in the grand scheme of things. it’s paradoxical, because he’s also outrageously ambitious. i think that’s one of his core character traits, a constant greed and pursuit of it. that’s unequivocally true about him. but then we look at his love life, and what do we see? he lets the two men he loves basically do whatever they want with him. and he does it because he loves them, as well as being unable to admit he’s suffering. i will say, from now on it’s clear that his relationship with alastor is veering off this direction, but i want to STRESS that it was actually ALASTOR that cemented that. vox, in a spurt of emotion, let it slip out his history of domestic violence. then, promptly brushed it off to appease alastor. he set the terms of the deal, but he did it as a silly pinky promise. he, again, never allows himself to take it SERIOUSLY. because IF HE DOES!!!! then he needs to set boundaries AND ABIDE BY THEM!!!!!!!! AND WHAT THEN. WHAT THEN. THEN THE NEXT TIME VAL OR ALASTOR CROSS A LINE, HE NEEDS TO END IT. LEAVE. DO ANYTHING. AND HE IS NEVER GONNA DO THAT!!!!!!!! and here’s the real fucking kicker…… he expects them to. to keep hurting him. that’s the root of it. it’s not a real boundary, because it’s an inevitability. valentino and alastor will always want to hurt him, so a relationship without that violence is nonexistent. (that’s what he believes btw. hopefully not the truth). and so, vox has made his choice. he’s a businessman, and he has weighed the pros and cons. the violence and crossed boundaries he faces is outweighed by his love for them, and ultimately, that means they can do whatever they want to him. he is helpless.

(this was an entire rant, dear god. and of course the disclaimer that this is all my personal delusions, and not necessarily your take on vox in your series. i swear, i never know how these asks get so long. i promise i start of with a simple idea, then it all implodes into an essay. so sorry. love you.) -🌓

I have good news and bad news for you, anon!

The bad news is that I have misled you slightly: My actual full perspective of the Valentino and Vox on-and-off dating situation is that Vox dumps Valentino when he feels a sufficiently angry flavor of upset that Valentino refuses to listen to him on some things (usually not, actually, the violence, unless Val breaks something for Vox to be angry about); and Valentino dumps Vox when he wants Vox to annoyedly pretend not to moon after him for a week. In both situations, sometimes Vox ends up giving up the ghost and functionally crawling his way back to Val, but more commonly Valentino decides that he's had enough and rather handily seduces Vox into a round of what Vox promises himself is hate sex and not makeup sex but is inevitably always very sappy makeup sex with a side of lovebombing.

This is. Arguably not that different of a flavor from what you're describing, haha, especially since a lot of Vox managing to be the one to break things off at any given point in time hinges on him being able to frame his rationale as "anger" rather than "upset," the latter of which just gets brushed under the carpet of Emotions That Are Not Taken Seriously. He can act on a great many things if he justifies them as something he is right to be objective and angry over, including outright killing Valentino at least once at some point in the past, but anything that makes him feel vulnerable or, ah, let's deliberately and pointedly use the word hysterical, is a pre-existing internal struggle that Valentino knows how to manipulate to his advantage.

The good news is that this lovely analysis inspired me to almost completely rewrite a section of the next 666 fic that I'd been dissatisfied with. I initially wrote Vox as annoyed; what he needed to be was Very Stressed And Upset in a way that distinctly refused to dare stray into anger because the fundamental concern was about what Alastor wanted - just as you described, Vox fumbling his own distress with his learned helplessness when it comes to intimate relationships. Anyway, now I'm WAY happier with it! So thank you very much for that!

[solosepensi]

“Sono andata a letto e le stelle non c’erano più. Ho pulito per bene il vetro della finestra, ma niente da fare. Erano sparite. Era sparita Sirio e Venere e Carmilla e Altazor. E anche Mab e Zelda e Bacbuc e Dandelion e la costellazione del Tacchino e la Croce di Lennon. Non ditemi che alcune di queste stelle non esistono. Sono i nomi che gli ho dato io. Infatti rivendico il diritto di ognuno, specialmente delle fanciulle fantasiose come me, a chiamare le cose non soltanto con il nome del vocabolario, ma anche quello del vocabolaltro, cioè con un nome inventato e scelto. In fondo tutti lo fanno.”

— Stefano Benni, Margherita Dolcevita

[anisecandy]

Something that low-key peeves me about the Hazbin Hotel worldbuilding is that almost all Sinners only have first names. I'm gonna be honest with you, if I got an opportunity to choose a new name for myself, not only I would go with a con-joined surname, I'd also cram in as many initials as possible. The main reason I had the confirmation as a teen was that I thought it would give me a valid second middle name. I choose a patron saint based on what letter I thought would look the best in my signature. And then Hazbin has characters named things like Kserkses and Dandy and that's it. Get out of here. Carmilla Carmine is the only one who gets it.