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Carmilla - Blog Posts
Me, a sith who adores cersei: There is no middle ground, I only deal in absolutes.
There’s two ends of the horror spectrum
bat lady oc has a name now, carmilla, like from the book 👀
i got the inspo when i went to the bloodsucker exhibit at the museum
and she was really sapphic about it
Vaggie: there's an army of exorcists coming and only you can tell me how to fight them off
Carmilla: ok here's the deal
Carmilla: you're gonna have to be really sapphic about it
Old 6 Characters Fanart
My contribution six-character trend thing. I decided to do pure evil villains. Never got around to doing a proper render cause I was tired.
This ones kinda old but im still proud of it!
when are we getting a carmilla feature film now that the vampire interest has been reinvigorated
Reposted speedpaint from Tiktok :)
Found a PDF with 3 Editions of Carmilla in my language and the original in english. Thank you Academia Brasileira de Letras.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1i7MH86Cvxrc62MmE_ghTTZU6iMuF0U35/view?usp=drivesdk
I read all of them in One night. I memorized EVERYTHING.
AND MY OPINION REMAINS, I DONT SHIPP LAURA AND CARMILLA, CARMILLA WAS A MONSTER WHO LITERALLY WAS GONNA EAT LAURA AND WAS KILLING PEOPLE ALL AROUND THE CASTLE. HOW IN THE FUCK PEOPLE THINK THEY CAN BE A COUPLE?! LAURA LITERALLY HAVE A DEEP TRAUMA AFTER ALL OF THIS!
By the way, i give the book a 10/10 Mark, its a very good book and i enjoyed reading every single Page of it. I love Vampire stuff and other dark things.
Now i gotta read Dracula...
See ya.
I haven't posted anything in a while, so I feel compelled to share something.
Have this profound piece of art depicting one of the most popular vampires in gothic horror literature yawning because she’s sleepy.
Done in Neverending Nightmares style
Kinda
Carmilla is a very scary novel
Gay or a Vampire? It's hard to guarantee.
The Crimson Veil
The heat of the summer had been oppressive, relentless. Your family estate, nestled deep in the forests outside Mondstadt, felt more like a gilded cage than a home, despite its grand stone halls and sweeping gardens. You had spent most of your days languishing in the shade of the great oak trees, seeking respite from the heavy air that clung to you like a second skin. The boredom of isolation was wearing on you, but your father insisted it was for your safety. Strange happenings had been reported in nearby villages—disappearances, whispers of something unnatural prowling the night. He would leave for long stretches, journeying to Mondstadt for business, leaving you in the care of the house staff.
And then, she came.
It was during one of your father’s longer absences, a warm evening bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. You were in the garden when the commotion at the front gates broke the tranquility. A carriage, drawn by horses as black as midnight, had appeared out of nowhere, thundering down the dirt path leading to the estate. The servants were quick to gather at the entrance, murmuring nervously as the door of the carriage swung open.
You watched from a distance, your curiosity piqued.
A figure emerged—tall, graceful, and draped in a flowing crimson cloak. Her presence was commanding, even from afar. The hood of her cloak shielded her face from view, but the way she moved was almost hypnotic, as though every step she took was a deliberate act of seduction.
The woman paused at the entrance, her head turning ever so slightly in your direction. Even though you couldn’t see her eyes, you felt the weight of her gaze, and a chill ran down your spine despite the warm summer air. You were frozen in place, unable to look away.
The housekeeper hurried forward, her voice trembling as she addressed the mysterious guest. “M-madam, may we help you?”
The woman’s voice was like velvet, smooth and rich, yet carrying an undercurrent of something dangerous. “I apologize for the intrusion. My carriage met with misfortune on the road, and I seek shelter for the night.”
Your father had always been generous, especially to those of noble blood, and the stranger’s attire suggested she was no common traveler. The housekeeper hesitated only a moment before nodding, gesturing for her to enter. The woman swept past her with a fluid grace, her cloak billowing behind her like a pool of blood spreading across the stone floor.
From that moment, the house was changed.
Her name was La Signora.
She revealed little of herself, offering only vague details about her background. She was a widow, she said, and had been traveling through the region on matters of personal business. Her voice was always low, measured, but it seemed to carry with it an air of authority that demanded attention. The servants were quick to obey her, drawn to her every word, though they rarely spoke in her presence.
But it was you who became the focus of her attentions.
The first time you truly spoke with her, she found you in the garden once more, reclining beneath the shade of the oak trees. She approached without a sound, her footsteps as light as a whisper on the breeze.
“I see the sun has no power over you,” she remarked, her voice almost teasing. You looked up, startled, but as soon as you met her eyes, you felt a strange sense of calm wash over you.
Her eyes—they were the color of molten amber, glowing faintly in the dim light. Her face was striking, impossibly beautiful, yet there was something unnerving about it, something inhuman. Her skin was pale, like porcelain, and her lips were painted a deep, blood-red.
“You must be our guest,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed. “La Signora, is it?”
She smiled, and the sight of it sent a shiver through you. “Indeed. And you must be the lady of the house in your father’s absence. How fortunate for me to find such enchanting company.”
Her words were flattering, but there was an edge to them, a weight that made your heart beat faster. You had never felt anything like it—a mixture of fear and fascination, as though you were both repelled and irresistibly drawn to her at the same time.
“I’ve heard you’ve been unwell,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over you like a caress. “These warm summers can be so draining, can they not?”
You nodded, unsure of how to respond. In truth, you had felt more fatigued than usual, a strange lethargy that had settled over you ever since her arrival. But as you sat there, beneath her gaze, you found it difficult to think of anything but her.
For the rest of the evening, La Signora remained at your side, her conversation light but somehow captivating. She spoke of distant lands and forgotten places, of beauty and tragedy intertwined. She told you stories that made the hairs on your neck stand on end, though you could not say why.
And when she finally took her leave, you found yourself longing for her return, despite the growing sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your mind.
As the days passed, your relationship with La Signora deepened in ways you could not explain. She was always near, her presence a constant, magnetic force. She began visiting you in your room late at night, when the rest of the household had long since gone to bed. The first time she appeared, it was like a dream.
You had been lying in bed, half-asleep, when you heard the faint creak of your door opening. You sat up, your heart racing, but there she stood, framed in the doorway, her cloak draped loosely around her shoulders. The candlelight flickered in her eyes, casting strange shadows across her face.
“Do not be alarmed,” she whispered, her voice soft as silk. “I thought you might enjoy some company.”
You should have been frightened, should have called for the servants. But instead, you nodded, your pulse quickening with anticipation rather than fear.
La Signora approached your bedside, moving with that same eerie grace. She sat beside you, her eyes never leaving yours. Her fingers brushed against your skin—cold, so cold—and yet you did not pull away. You felt yourself sinking into her presence, as though she were drawing you into a trance.
“I can see the fatigue in your eyes,” she murmured, her fingers trailing lightly across your wrist. “You’ve been suffering, haven’t you?”
You nodded weakly, though you were no longer sure if it was the heat or her that had been draining you. Every moment in her presence left you feeling both exhilarated and exhausted, as though she were consuming something vital from you.
She leaned closer, her breath cool against your skin. “I can help you, if you’ll let me. You have but to say the word, and I will ease your suffering.”
You should have refused, should have resisted. But her voice was like a lullaby, soothing, persuasive. Before you knew it, you had whispered, “Yes.”
Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Good.”
Without another word, La Signora leaned in, her face inches from yours. For a brief, dizzying moment, you thought she might kiss you, but instead, she pressed her lips to the curve of your neck. The sensation sent a shock through your body, a strange mixture of pleasure and pain as her fangs pierced your skin.
You gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as the world seemed to spin around you. Your vision blurred, but all you could feel was her—her cold touch, her breath, the strange pull of her fangs as she drank from you.
It was over in a matter of seconds, but it left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. La Signora pulled away, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. She licked her lips, the faintest trace of blood staining them.
“You are mine now,” she whispered, her voice a soft, dangerous purr. “Do not forget that.”
You lay there, trembling, unable to speak as she rose from your bed and disappeared into the shadows.
From that night onward, La Signora’s hold on you tightened. You grew weaker by the day, your skin paling, your body frail. But every night, she returned, her presence both a curse and a balm to your growing despair. You could not escape her, and deep down, you weren’t sure you wanted to.
The villagers whispered of a sickness that had begun to spread, of young women falling ill, drained of life. But you knew the truth. It was her—La Signora. She was the cause of it all, and you were her willing victim.
Your father returned one evening, his face lined with worry as he looked upon you. He demanded to know what had happened, but you could not tell him. You could only lie there, weak and helpless, knowing that La Signora’s hold on you had grown too strong to break.
That night, she came to you again, but this time, her smile was different—sharper, crueler.
“It’s almost time,” she whispered, her voice a cold breeze against your fevered skin. “Soon, you will be mine completely, and we will be together forever.”
You wanted to resist, to fight against the dark fate she had woven for you. But as she leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck once more, you knew there was no escape.
You had been drawn into her web of darkness, and there was no going back.
every time I try to find something about The Boys (aka Supernatural season 16), tumblr does this:
feels like it's saying "are you sure you want that drama again? go back to your comfort zone with queer vampires"
Want to add a favorite not on here-
Agatha All Along
Also I’ll take any excuse to post some Agathario:
me consuming every piece of queer media instead of having a social life:
Just finished season 4 of Castlevania and I have some thoughts
Overall, the ending was solid and I’m happy to see that Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard could live together and build a better future together. That part was sweet and definitely served as the best part of the entire season for me
I really wish Carmilla had a better ending, she fought a horde of night creatures and Issac and nobody could take her down individually. They had built up her plan for so long and to see it come crashing down like that was a disappointment
It felt like the carmilla’s takeover and Dracula resurrection storylines where competing for screen time and should have had a few more episodes to breath.
I love what they did with Issac this season and seeing him grow to understand humanity and want to build a better future was nice. Seeing Death was nice I just wished they’d built it up a bit more.
Overall it was a good season that kind of meandered a bit. The animation was gorgeous as always and the ending was beautiful. Looking forward to Nocturne
Carm drawing #1
Don’t really like how this one turned out, I definitely liked the sketch better but, oh well, you can’t like everything you make.
Just a lil Carmilla edit I made idk
Just reposting some of my art from my old account :)
so i got Carmilla for crisis right? anyways OH MY GOD it is SO much raunchier than I expected?????? like yeah i knew it was the Lesbian Vampire Novel but it was also written in 1871-1872?????? i was expecting a lot of implied stuff, but Carmilla is just flat out getting handsy w/ Laura and calling her pet names and they deadass make out??? good shit. great shit
periods of my life are defined by which gay classic literature couple i'm reading smut about on ao3
nuomilier style study (also i could not stop thinking about lesbian vampires)
