infernal-general

[infernal-general]

Husband test

She didn't even bother doing the wife one.

[infernal-general]

What does your soul look like?

the crowned skull

You are a leader, whether you wanted to be or not. You have been burdened by a purpose greater than yourself. All sense of identity has been buried beneath the necessity of duty. Sacrifice is normalcy to you, and every day you trade away pieces of yourself to serve. The people who follow you cannibalize you. They take, and take, and take. But you are no pushover. You have a just mind, and lead with a firm hand. You are a terror to some and hope to others. A tyrant to your dissidents, but a savior to your loyalists. Rarely will they praise you, and often will you suffer the blame for their own failings. But it is your job to bear it all. Who are you beneath the responsibilities? You wouldn’t know; it is a thing grown from your bones themselves. Duty is a burden you will never escape, no matter what form it takes. How long before it breaks you?

[infernal-general]

𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲, 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲; '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞

꧁ 𝓛 𝓔 𝓖 𝓔 𝓝 𝓓 𝓐 𝓡 𝓨 ꧂

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐝

+18 only, independent, ROTG inspired now fandomless / multifandom, chaotic rocker cosmic entity original character. Tons of original lore & worldbuilding. Selective, very crossover and OC friendly. Mun is +21

♡ / ↻ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

[infernal-general]

This happened on March 15th

But this also happened on March 15th

[infernal-general]

happy march 15 to everyone who hates dictators 🥰

[infernal-general]

Literally lacks a cervix, an uterus and every other reproductive organ.

[infernal-general]

The most Véghváry moment I've had (at least what I can currently recall) was today when during more than hour long VIP a customer had a tummy fetish (?) and didn't even let me move/dance. Knelt between my legs and slobbered over my stomach for nearly 40+ minutes. I felt him move lower, I was completely naked at that point and the club has a very strict no 🐱 or 🍑🕳 touching/contact. So I immediately, reflexively put him a triangle choke, which I've learned from Undisputed. He got the hint & was thoroughly amused at my choice of defense. Any time he went lower than I was comfortable with I just had to tighten my legs around his neck.

When I was done one of the managers again told me if someone does something against the rules I can leave without repercussions. And I told her I solved it with a triangle chokehold I learned from Scott Adkins😂 she burst out laughing, told me I was badass as fuck. I went to thoroughly wipe myself off because ew and came back to the guy telling me he purchased an another 30 minute.🫠

[infernal-general]

Love as fire

the firework

Boom, there you are. Your love shines so big and bright that it's a whole show on it's own and yes, people should stop and stare. You are the type of love that doesn't come around a lot, almost like a Fourth of July or New Years celebration, it's the type of thing that needs to be cherished fast, because just as suddenly as you appeared in the sky you'll fade back out of their life. You're the memory of a great love, the bright burn of thinking of the one that got away and it's dangerous. Staring at you for too long might blind people from ever being content with anything that burns less bright. And the thing is, when you're only content with fireworks, it's guaranteed that things can't last. Still, you're not the type to leave a bitter aftertaste. The memory of your burning is more likely to bring a smile to people's lips and bring a fun old times story to spill out from them. You're the type of love people think back to fondly and that's honestly quite beautiful of you. The problem with fireworks though, is that they are always so far away and so hard to touch. It's something to gaze at lovingly from afar. A beauty that strikes emotion in anyone, but who very few would truly dare to approach. It makes you even more appealing, it's true. And the magical, mysterious vibes you give can easily enchant anyone, but what use is that if they won't come close? It's no fault of your own, even if it makes your glow a bit lonely in the vast dark sky, but I hope you can find someone mesmerized enough to be daring and to soar out after the glowing lights in the sky. Honestly, it's nothing less than you deserve and it takes someone truly mighty to deserve a love like yours.

[infernal-general]

attraction meme

Inbox me a ‘ღ’ and I’ll rate you with the following:

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

[infernal-general]

Brilliant emerald mirrored the searching gaze with curiosity, then the thoughts drifting to actually how beautiful the man's eyes were. How rare to see such pure green ones on a man. The blond's hold immediately captured her attention, hips tilting sharply to one side, further accenting sharp curves. An excited, pearly giggle escaped from her lips at such flawless manners and velvet spun words.

“Buona sera, James.” she tried his name on her tongue “You look like you're seeing a...como si dice; a ghost!” she snickered lightheartedly, amused by flustered behavior

Then her attention was drawn back to Lestat, her face lighting up at his captivating, flirtatious words. She took a seat, although her cheek briefly ending up smushing against his shoulder before straightening herself with a laugh. “Peró signore, you are dangerous with such words” she had to avert her gaze for a brief moment, to avoid red dusting her cheeks even brighter

At his question she fell silent, unsure about the answer.

“Fate as in an entity or a concept?” Rosalia asked for clarification. Then an another thought struck her, her mind placing James' behavior together.

“I'm...intruding, no?” soft lips curled into a sad pout at the realization “I should've seen, known, your friend...is not fine with my company. Probably finds it indecent or rude” she shifted in her seat, drawing her arms closer to herself.

“I just...don't know anyone here. And am I so hideous or shameful that my fiance escapes to a whorehouse to avoid me? Even the servants left the mansion on his order...I'm so lonely.” the timber of defeated melancholy ran deep, a raw, open, still pulsing wound.

“May I ask you to escort me back to the cold mansion, that's not indecent? I fear I might not find such chivalrous men on my way.”

Sometimes it was as simple as tracking the blood in the forests of Transylvania and kill whatever was at the end of the trail; low skill jobs, almost like training combined with a hike. The rise of more careful operations regarding high profile targets had her undivided attention, of course many were killed during or had to be put down after these. Her record untainted, her fame spreading like slow churning lava. The news of the infamous Lestat de Lioncourt returning to Europe at last reached the Vatican fairly quickly and the preparations began just as smoothly. He was sought after target, the belief sprinkled within the community that whoever ends his afterlife will have a bright future one in Heaven's ranks. Therefore the Viper had to fight for such glory, to prove worthy yet again. If only they knew her passion didn't stem from the thought of divinity, but the sheer thrill of it.

Her preparing ritual nothing short of positions, stretches that skirted the anatomically impossible. The finishing touches of the dress and the endless surprises underneath was akin to putting on a second skin, locking her thoughts behind a mental wall as well. She simply couldn't go with France's current obsessions regarding female clothing, impossible to orchestrate a quick disrobing, not to mention she wasn't even sure how to sit in those hoops without tumbling back with the chair.

In the warm candlelight her hair glowed bronze, rich waves occasionally catching a lighter color. The rich satin dress was a radiantly deep burgundy with subtle black accents, a mixture of Italian fashion with tiny bit of French influence sprinkled in. A sweet scent with the tiniest bite of alcohol clung to her like a perfume, if the dress and her bit less than graceful steps didn't draw enough attention.

An aggressive staredown followed her accidentally colliding with one of the mammoth skirts, ending with her bursting into rich, deep laughter at the situation. She was slowly making her way through the café, each table quietening whenever the foreign woman in red was near, then increased as she passed with a shrug upon the silent hostility.

Only from one place she didn't sense such quiet loathing, two men, both unfairly handsome.

“Scusi-” her voice akin to honey

The last language they spoke was probably Italian.

“Inglese, alright?” hopeful and swaying with a light laugh like a flame. After all she wasn't offered a seat yet.

“I moved to this country...not long ago, for marriage” her melodic accent carried through in English as well “and my soon to be husband can't be bothered to get out of the brothels. Has me waiting for him in an empty, cold mansion as I was already widowed. Maybe it would be for the better.” she lamented her situation, then decided to offer a velvet gloved hand

“Rosalia”

[infernal-general]

"Still bein' a verbose bitch?"

“During a drugged haze you managed to stumble upon a dictionary! Why, I'm honored.”

“Nowadays I prefer cutting to the point instead.”

[infernal-general]

what emotion are you?

ANGER

You are anger, a roaring flame that burns within the depths of the human psyche. You are the primal response to perceived injustice, a primal instinct that evolved to protect and defend. You surge through the body, quickening the pulse, tensing the muscles, and filling the mind with a singular focus – to confront the source of your discontent. Yet, you are a double-edged sword, for unchecked, you can lead to ruin, fracturing relationships and fueling destruction. But harnessed with wisdom, you become a force for change, a catalyst for standing up against wrong and demanding what is rightfully ours. You are a fundamental part of the human experience, a necessary emotion that, when properly channeled, can empower us to overcome adversity and forge a better world.

[infernal-general]

beep beep how’s my portrayal ?

[infernal-general]

@infernal-feminae look🤣🤣

Van Helsing has yet to beat the divorce allegations first brought up in 1879

[infernal-general]

Bringing this absolute gem back. Do I even need a reason?

[infernal-general]

Sometimes it was as simple as tracking the blood in the forests of Transylvania and kill whatever was at the end of the trail; low skill jobs, almost like training combined with a hike. The rise of more careful operations regarding high profile targets had her undivided attention, of course many were killed during or had to be put down after these. Her record untainted, her fame spreading like slow churning lava. The news of the infamous Lestat de Lioncourt returning to Europe at last reached the Vatican fairly quickly and the preparations began just as smoothly. He was sought after target, the belief sprinkled within the community that whoever ends his afterlife will have a bright future one in Heaven's ranks. Therefore the Viper had to fight for such glory, to prove worthy yet again. If only they knew her passion didn't stem from the thought of divinity, but the sheer thrill of it.

Her preparing ritual nothing short of positions, stretches that skirted the anatomically impossible. The finishing touches of the dress and the endless surprises underneath was akin to putting on a second skin, locking her thoughts behind a mental wall as well. She simply couldn't go with France's current obsessions regarding female clothing, impossible to orchestrate a quick disrobing, not to mention she wasn't even sure how to sit in those hoops without tumbling back with the chair.

In the warm candlelight her hair glowed bronze, prominent waves occasionally catching a lighter color. The rich satin dress was a radiantly deep burgundy with subtle black accents, a mixture of Italian fashion with tiny bit of French influence sprinkled in. A sweet scent with the tiniest bite of alcohol clung to her like a perfume, if the dress and her bit less than graceful steps didn't draw enough attention.

An aggressive staredown followed her accidentally colliding with one of the mammoth skirts, ending with her bursting into rich, deep laughter at the situation. She was slowly making her way through the café, each table quietening whenever the foreign woman in red was near, then increased as she passed with a shrug upon the silent hostility.

Only from one place she didn't sense such quiet loathing, two men, both unfairly handsome.

“Scusi-” her voice akin to honey

The last language they spoke was probably Italian.

“Inglese, alright?” hopeful and swaying with a light laugh like a flame. After all she wasn't offered a seat yet.

“I moved to this country...not long ago, for marriage” her melodic accent carried through in English as well “and my soon to be husband can't be bothered to get out of the brothels. Has me waiting for him in an empty, cold mansion as I was already widowed. Maybe it would be for the better.” she lamented her situation, then decided to offer a velvet gloved hand

“Rosalia”

Paris, 1840.

The café was alive with the quiet hum of conversation, the soft clink of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from its more spirited patrons. Warm light spilled from oil lamps onto the polished wood floors and velvet-upholstered chairs, casting flickering shadows across the room. The air smelled of sweet pastries, strong coffee, and the faint, heady tang of wine.

James Norrington stood just outside, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling interior. The night had been restless, a whisper of danger threading through the city, but he had come here for another reason—one that pulled at him like a tide.

Inside, seated at a corner table, Lestat de Lioncourt lounged with effortless elegance. His golden hair caught the lamplight, glinting like spun gold, and his smile was as wicked as ever. A half-empty glass of wine sat before him, untouched, as he surveyed the room with predatory amusement.

James stepped inside, his boots making barely a sound against the polished floor. Lestat’s gaze flicked to him immediately, a slow, knowing smile curling his lips. “Ah, James,” Lestat drawled, his voice rich and velvety. “You look like you’ve just walked out of a storm. Come, sit. The wine is dreadful, but the company… promising.”

James sighed, his expression stoic as ever, and slid into the chair across from Lestat. “I’ve heard rumors of hunters,” he said quietly, his gaze sharp. “Thought it prudent to find you.”

Lestat chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Hunters. Rumors. Let them come. I’ve grown rather bored of the usual distractions.” His gaze shifted past James, and a glimmer of interest sparked in his eyes. “Speaking of distractions…”

James turned, his gaze landing on the woman who had just stumbled into the café.

@infernal-general

[infernal-general]