#The Werewolf Versus the Vampire Woman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugar-phoenix · 1 year ago

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vampire x poisoned werewolf

wrote a short one-shot about a male vampire who has to deal with his nemesis, a female werewolf who is poisoned, just to get myself out of a rut. enjoy!

tags: werewolf x vampire, fxm, extreme slow burn, literally nothing remotely romantic really happens, poison, bites, enemies to lovers, archenemies to lovers, unspoken truces, forced proximity to save the other

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dividers by cafekitsune

The vampire heard a knock at his door.

“Coming, coming,” he called. “I thought most humans weren't awake at this hour,” he muttered to himself.

He unlatched the door, and it flew open, the full weight of a werewolf behind it. She collapsed onto the ground.

“Wh-What? What are you doing here?” he hissed. The vampire, although filled with a mixture of shock and hatred at the sight of his nemesis, sensed something was wrong. He closed the door shut behind her.

“I’d like to know what possessed you at this hour of the night to come crashing on my door.”

The werewolf made a guttural growl. Or was that a groan? She raised her face at him, and he could see that she was foaming at the mouth.

“Oh great, you’ve brought your filthy canine diseases in with you. This had better be good.”

Slowly, pained, the werewolf morphed from her animal form to her human form. The mass of her wolfishness returned to her hair, and in the end she laid on his stone floor, a naked woman, almost entirely covered in strands of long black hair. He started, averting his eyes.

“Good God, woman, what has gotten into you? I sincerely hope this is not some sort of inane confession or attempt to seduce me.”

Something inside the vampire felt as though he wouldn’t entirely hate the werewolf if this were to be true. He quashed that part of him away and hoped it never reared its ugly head again.

“Poison,” she grunted.

He whirled back towards her, then turned his head again when he realized she was in a state of undress. “Poison? What kind?”

“Drink,” she managed to cough out. “Need. Medicine.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t know what kind of poison it is,” he said.

The werewolf-woman growled. “I don’t know.”

The vampire sighed. “Well, then I’ll have to try and deduce what kind of poison you have from your symptoms. Which would require me to inspect you, as improper as you are at the moment.”

“Don’t care.”

Well all right then, he thought, turning towards the werewolf. He never thought in his wildest dreams that there would come a night like this. Although he supposed his notorious expertise at poisons and such was necessary in this situation.

To describe the two as ones who didn’t get along would be an understatement. In fact, they had often dealt each other severe wounds in fights over clan disputes. Vampires versus werewolves, it was only as natural as cats versus dogs.

Then again, the vampire had often seen cats and dogs managing to get along well with each other and even become friends. Another thought to quash.

“Alright, foaming at the mouth,” he started crouching down towards the werewolf. She growled at him, and he hissed back.

“If you want me to help, I’ll have to get close to you. Close enough to make the both of us extremely uncomfortable, but I was of the impression you wanted to live.” At his words, the woman rolled her eyes, turning her head away. The vampire took that as a sign that she was willing to comply.

He touched the skin at her neck. She jolted and became tense, but otherwise let him continue.

“Hot at the neck, excessive sweating,” he continued, counting the symptoms to himself.

Crap, he thought to himself. These symptoms are all generic. The options of poisons are too varied for me to narrow down what she has.

I wish I was poisoned. With my expertise in recognizing poisons, I’d know what this was.

It was then that an idea struck the vampire. A terrible, but necessary idea.

“I just want to let you know that what I’m about to do is entirely necessary for the sake of your survival. Also that I’m not trying to kill you,” the vampire said. The werewolf turned towards him, giving him a skeptical look.

“Do you want me to try and save you or not?” The vampire asked. The werewolf glared at him.

“Just do it,” she muttered.

The vampire took in a deep breath. “Alright then.”

He sat down next to her, leaning over her. She looked at him, confused.

Her eyes widened when she realized what he was about to do, but by then it was too late. He had sunk his teeth into her neck. She tried to thrash around, but the poison had weakened her significantly, and the most she could do was wiggle around.

It wasn’t long before he pulled himself away from her neck, and got up, rushing to his cabinet of herbs. She laid there on the floor, feeling a thin stream of blood slowly dribble down her neck from his bite. Werewolves were immune to vampiric bites and the curse that followed them, as they had a curse themselves, which meant the two canceled each other out.

Now that he felt the poison coursing through his own, the vampire quickly identified, it, coming up with a simple yet effective antidote comprised of a few ingredients. He rushed back to the werewolf with a mixture, tipping down her throat.

She gagged, but swallowed it down.

Within minutes, she felt significantly better, her strength and health regaining. The werewolf sat up, her hair cascading down the front of her body, and looked at the vampire. He was leaning against a nearby table, setting down a small cup, no doubt filled with his own antidote.

“Thank you,” she said.

“No problem. Now, please, leave before anyone finds out about this.”

She got up, transforming back into her animal form, and left through the door.

He sighed a breath of relief, and batted away the unbidden thoughts in his mind.

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#writeblr #writing #writing community #✎ . writings #♠ . oneshots #werewolf x vampire #werewolf #vampire #enemies to lovers #vampire fiction #werewolf fiction #vampire x werewolf

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archoniluthradanar · 2 years ago

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On meeting a Vampire - Chapter One

On meeting a Vampire : an Aro Volturi short story

PART ONE

This fiction will be a short story of no more than 2 chapters about an unexpected meeting between a strange young woman and an ancient vampire. Aro del Volturi is lost in some unnamed forest, left behind by his coven during a battle. He manages to reach a small cottage inhabited by a young woman who lives alone there. She's finds the man is not quite normal. On the other hand. Aro finds his savior to be somewhat odd herself.

I was going to make this a one-shot but it got too long for that, yet too short to be considered a long fic.

Chapter One

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Although his assailant was dead, Aro di Volturi's immortal body was filled with pain only because his attacker had been a werewolf. When it came to vampire versus werewolf, this fight ended in success for the vampire, but not without it's sacrifices. Aro was now alone in the forest, wherever this place was. His fellow coven members had left him behind, chased off by one of the few enemies that could defeat vampires. They would come back for him once they had lost the pack, but he needed immediate help.

Caius had insisted the werewolves must be hunted down to extinction. They were powerful, but disorganized. Still, he had nearly been destroyed by one some time ago, and his fear of them made them an enemy that had to be eradicated. The coven had destroyed many of the werewolves, but one had targeted Aro when he was alone. He fought against the hairy beast, who used bared teeth and sharp claws to take down Aro. His cries of pain echoed in the forest, but he didn't give up on his attack, until the beast fell to the ground, its blood flowing into the dirt.

Struggling to remain standing, Aro finally managed to limp his way through the trees and brush. The darkness did not impede him, having vampire vision, but his usual speed was not there for him. He continued this way for nearly an hour. His acute hearing picked up only the distant rumblings of thunder, nearby animal sounds, and the rippling of a creek not far away. Then he heard a heartbeat, human and most likely female by the rapidity of it. Aro headed in the direction of the heartbeat to find a small wooden cottage sitting in a clearing surrounded by trees.

He noticed smoke coming from a stone chimney, so obviously the occupant was there. Why would a woman be living alone in this desolate place. Perhaps her mate was out hunting. Perhaps she was a widow due to some obscure human war. Aro truly didn't care. He needed her aid whoever she was, and perhaps her blood as well if he were recover more quickly.

Aro made it to the door and knocked. He leaned against the door jamb, wanting nothing more than to lie down and mend himself. Cracks had appeared on his face and neck, and they seemed slow to heal. One hand had been torn off at the wrist. He managed to save it with a laving of venom over the breaks. He hid the damaged limb within his black cloak. There were deep bites on his legs that were causing him a great deal of pain. Aro knew they would take days to heal. He knew he would need to rest if that were to happen.

The door opened to reveal a young woman with long red-brown hair that was pulled up in a loose bun. Her blue eyes took in the appearance of the man at her door. She looked him over, seeing torn pants and bloodless wounds on his legs. He was holding onto his arm as if it was inured as well. She started to reach out her hands to help him, but quickly pulled back.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean you any harm, but I am injured. I need help..." Aro nearly fell to his knees, but he knew if he fell, she alone would not have the strength to pick him up. Unsure what language she spoke, Aro didn't know if she even understood him. He spoke many languages, so if she would just say something, he would be able to recognize her native tongue and communicate with her.

Don'ea watched the man before her, obviously having trouble standing. She didn't want to let him in, but she could not let him remain outside. The air smelled of ozone. She had heard the thunder getting closer, and it was likely a storm was approaching,

Giving the man a weak smile, she slipped her arm beneath his, trying to support him as he stumbled inside. She led him to the bed that sat in the far corner of the large room and helped him to sit down. She mimed for him to take off his cloak. Going back to the door, she hung the black cloak on a peg in the wall next to the entrance, which was now barred with a wooden arm that crossed the entire width of the door.

She threw another log into the fireplace, and went back to help the man. His coat had to be removed, Don'ea feeling it was too binding. She knelt down and removed his shoes, which were wet with something sticky and covered in dirt, so she slid them under the bed until she could clean them. She slid out a round metal bowl from under the bed, showing it to Aro. She tried to mime its use, but was sure he understood when he smiled and shook his head. She then stood to find another blanket in a small wardrobe that was next to the bed.

Aro lay back, groaning in pain. He closed his eyes, one hand flung over his forehead. Never had he felt so incapacitated in all his existence, at least not since his transformation. Where was the rest of the coven. Surely Demetri would be tracking him by now, unless... Aro dared not think of the possibility the werewolves had destroyed his people. If that were the case, no help would be arriving and he would be on his own.

Don'ea was finally able to observe the stranger's appearance. He was the most attractive man she had ever seen in this place. She inhaled some pleasant sort of scent exuding from his body. But what had intrigued her more was the colour of his eyes. They were a deep red. In her time here in this forest, she had never seen anyone with red eyes. Brown, green, blue, but never red.

She pointed to the the other corner of the room where a clay oven sat. Nearby was a table with crockery and knives. Eating utensils, cups and plates sat on a shelf that was secured into the wall above the table.

She filled a glass from a clay pitcher with cool water and offered it to Aro, who shook his head. He tried to smile his thanks, but pain forced his expression to change to one of discomfort. Every bite throbbed. His hand still was not secure enough to use. It would take time for the venom to bind the torn parts together.

Aro lay perfectly still as he now gazed at the woman assisting him with such diligence. He had lucked out in finding her here. But with what end.

Don'ea reached down to place her hand on his forehead. He had no fever. In fact, his skin was dry and cold as snow. She lay the blanket over Aro, covering him carefully. Then she returned to the oven where a pot of soup sat atop the fire-fed heat. She slowly stirred it, eager to sit and eat her supper. She had made plenty, so if her guest was hungry, she could feed him. The hot soup might help him warm up.

Aro was watching the woman surreptitiously. For a human, she was quite lovely. But he found it odd that she had not uttered a word since his arrival. And the scent he had breathed in while she was helping him get comfortable was unlike any he had ever smelled. Not unpleasant, just different.

"My name is Aro. I am from Volterra in Italy. I am here with my people, but we were separated and I was...attacked. To whom do I owe my thanks for offering me sanctuary?"

The woman turned at Aro's words, her blue eyes filled with expression, even if she said nothing.

Don'ea had gone to fill a bowl with some of the hot soup, again offering it to Aro. And again, he shook his head. Perhaps he was just not thirsty or hungry due to the pain he was suffering.

Aro lay back, unable to do anything else. He watched while the woman ate her meal, knowing she might end up becoming his meal if the coven did not find him soon. He hated to thank her for her aid by killing her, but there might be no help for it.

Lightning lit up the darkness outside through the few windows of the cottage. The thunder had grown so strong, it sometimes shook the small house as it sent sonic booms into the air.

Don'ea went to unlatch the door. Opening it, she peered out to observe the downpour that had finally arrived. She worried that this man's people would be stuck out in the deluge. What she didn't want was for his attackers to sniff after his scent and end up here.

She closed and latched the door, then went to wash her soup bowl. She kept the flame under the pot low, in case her guest grew hungry later. She might want more herself, but preferred to help her guest for now.

Don'ea went to the bed and pulling up the blanket away from Aro's legs, she wordlessly examined his wounds. She pulled at the torn pieces of cloth which were also damp with something sticky-wet, like his shoes. She carefully touched his legs. The wounds were oddly bloodless, the flesh not appearing torn like a bite, but broken like crockery that had been dropped in a way as to not shatter the piece, but leave it intact with smooth-edged cracks. Obviously bite marks confirmed his story. She still wanted to know why his flesh was so cold.

Laying the blanket back over his legs, she sat next to Aro, her hand resting on his. She watched him for any reactions or unspoken needs he might have. He seemed to be resting, his eyes closed once more. While he was in repose, she studied his thoughts. She smiled in amusement. It was a jumbled mess of centuries of history, his and that of others. This man, if he were a man, needed her help, and to learn from him, she would offer it freely.

Don'ea was about to rise to get another bowl of soup, when she felt a hand grab her wrist in its vise-like grip, pulling her down. She watched as Aro held onto her, his irises having darkened to black, with an expression that might have terrified her.

Aro, in his hunger, drew the silent woman to him. She never uttered a sound, not even in fear. A mute. She must be a mute and unable to speak. Aro bared his razor-sharp teeth and swiftly bit down on her neck. He felt the heated blood flow into his mouth. Instantly, he spat out the fluid. Wiping his hand over his mouth, he drew it back and saw a purple smear.

"What is this?" His stomach suddenly twisted as he retched. "What have you done to me?"

A/N : Aro has never found blood he didn't like. Until now. So who is this strange woman Aro has fallen in with?

#the volturi #volturi fanfiction #aro volturi #Aro/OC #werewolf attacked Aro

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forthoseinterested · 22 days ago

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Types of masculinity

For my purposes here, let’s just summarize masculinity as strong, confident, assertive, dominant. That seems good enough. From there, you can recognize different subtypes or archetypes. There’s probably numerous ways to slice it, but I think one particular spectrum stands out, which for lack of better term I have come to call the suave and the savage.

The suave-masculine is refined, intelligent, sophisticated, gentlemanly. He’s well-spoken and cultured—a debonair; but he’s still masculine (strong, confident, assertive, dominant).

The savage-masculine is more primal, vigorous, and brash. He’s aggressive, he’s unfiltered, he acts on his instincts—animalistic, like a caveman. And likewise, he’s still masculine.

Not everybody fits perfectly into one or the other, but most men clearly lean one way or the other, and most people who are attracted to men have a preference.

In my experience, the following observation holds true: the more a girl is nerdy and into anime, the more likely she is to prefer suave-masculinity. The more she’s into golden retrievers and pepperoni pizza, the less likely she is to prefer suave-masculine (compared with the anime girls). Sound weirdly specific? It is.

I see this spectrum in many places, including people I know in my own life. But often when watching a show or movie, there will be two different guys who are both masculine in different ways, and it’s framable using something like this.

For example, not long ago I was thinking about it while watching a show called Fate/Zero, where two characters called Lancer and Rider embody these two different archetypes perfectly.

Vampires and werewolves

From Twilight to Underworld, series that have vampires usually feature werewolves and vice versa, and this is a perfect stage for writers to play with the suave and savage. The werewolf and vampire are both powerful, sexy creatures—they’re killers, they’re assertive and controlling, and they represent an alluring other.

But vampires then have a tendency of being more fancy, romantic, and refined. Werewolves, meanwhile, are more primordial and raw. They literally lose control of theirselves in the moonlight—a metaphor for instincts taking over (comparable to a man being uncontrollable with lust).

For many people, taking a glance at the Twilight series back when it was popular and seeing the way people argued about Jacob versus Edward seemed confusing, because they’re both just young white guys who look similar. But what was playing out was a difference in preference between the more suave vampire and the more savage werewolf.

Monsters

There’s something interesting happening psychologically when women find theirselves attracted to monsters, which is the catch-all that I’m going to use to describe anything non-human. It’s something that’s probably uncomfortable to talk about in broader society.

There’s a submissive tendency that can be cast from an individual level (‘you dominate me’) onto group dynamics (‘your group dominates my group’). This probably happened deep in our history, whenever one tribe conquered another. What do you think happened to all the women in a village if the men of some other village killed all their husbands? It’s gruesome, but the best survival strategy would be to shrug and accept that you’re part of that other tribe now.

Have you ever seen that Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Larry dates a Palestinian woman, and then while having sex she unexpected hits him with “fuck me you Jew bastard, fuck me like Israel fucks my people”? It’s an inescapable part of humanity, despite our desire to look away. People don’t just think of individuals. We also see each other as members of groups. And sometimes your group getting dominated is sexy, the same way you as an individual getting dominated is. This is what’s happening in most race-based sexual play.

Edward and Jacob were played by Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner, both attractive guys, but there’s more to it than that. Their sex appeal was amplified by the fact they’re a different species, and one that’s dangerous to humans. It wasn’t just about getting dominated by some attractive man. It was about your humanity being dominated by a non-human other.

Yes, Edward—bite me. Make me one of you.

Apollo and Dionysus

There’s an old concept in philosophy, literature, art, and possibly other contexts, named after the Greek gods Apollo (‘ah-paul-oh’) and Dionysus (‘die-uh-nigh-suss’). Apollo was the god of order, logic, and higher thinking, while Dionysus was the god of festivals, chaos, wine, and dance. This gives to the concepts of Apollonian (‘apple-oh-nee-an’), to mean things that are structured, stable, conventional, disciplined; and Dionysian (‘die-ah-niss-ee-uhn’) to mean passionate, wild, spontaneous, and free. I view this as yet another personality axis—which some people have historically argued correlates with masculine and feminine (men being more Apollonian and women being more Dionysian), but I don’t think I agree with that. When I look around in this world, I see men and women of both sorts.

Examples:

Sherlock Holmes and his brother Mycroft. Sherlock works alone and is quick on his feet, emotional, impulsive, wild. Mycroft is the more measured man of the institution.

Kirk and Picard from Star Trek. Though not in the same series, they’re often compared because they’re the two most famous starship captains—and while similar, given they’re both Starfleet captains, Kirk is more of a daring rogue or risk-taker, while Picard is more of a refined diplomat. In this comparison, you can see it’s all relative, or about contrast: in comparison with other characters, one could argue that Kirk is Apollonian, because he’s part of Starfleet, but he has a more independent personality or attitude. There’s a broader spectrum of Apollo to Dionysus, and Kirk is noteworthy for being more Dionysian than the other characters in his environment, despite not being the most Dionysian man in the galaxy.

In Star Wars, I wouldn’t describe Luke Skywalker as an Apollonian character overall—he’s more balanced. Not everybody is going to lean hard in one direction or the other. But Han Solo is then more Dionysian than Luke is, by comparison. We see that Luke is capable of being daring, working alone, acting on instinct, especially in Return of the Jedi, but overall he doesn’t seem as wild or chaotic as Solo.

The tumblr sexyman

The tumblr sexyman is a satirical, tongue-in-cheek name that spawned on Tumblr many years ago by Tumblr users making fun of theirselves for their own preferences. Despite sounding silly, it captures something real, which is a pattern of traits that captivated people across many different examples and genres, and which I would describe as a sub-archetype of the suave Dionysian. Typically, a tumblr sexyman is:

tall, white, and fancy or well-dressed

often a bit feminine in some ways, especially appearance (bonus points if they have to crossdress at some point for plot reasons)

cool or edgy, not bubbly or cheerful (they can be optimistic)

morally grey, or willing to break the rules to get results; not necessarily evil, but definitely not a white-knight paladin do-gooder

a lone wolf—always independently minded, even if they’re fighting for the good guys as part of some broader organization

Some popular examples of this archetype are:

the Doctors from the Doctor Who series

Sherlock (from the BBC series)

Kaito Kuroba (Detective Conan)

Cloud (Final Fantasy VII)

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)

This character archetype was so loved that people would engage in sexyman-ification of characters when it felt right (e.g., try searching “bill cypher sexyman”).

#culture #analysis #masculinity #tumblr sexyman #media #vampires #werewolves #what is this post

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