#the vampires would not fit in but that’s not the point
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
And I will call it home, this curse of ours (despite, despite, despite)
Day 7 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here
pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)
length: 8.2k
genre: horror, fluff kinda, hurt/comfort
warnings: vampire timmy, werewolf reader, reader gets shot and it's pretty bloody, lots of blood talk actually but in a vampire way, fade to black rooftop smut scene idk guys
a/n: pls god I hope everyone likes this one I fell asleep with my face on my desk writing it. but it's the classic !! I had to finish the event with the classic. ask me abt the jason todd cameo that I couldn't find a place to fit in
"Oh, god, not this again." You're walking down one of the endless streets of Gotham, your hood up and your shoulders hunched, when you hear someone sigh and groan while the person she's with goes on and on.
"No, I'm serious. There's something wrong with those Waynes -"
"You're just jealous because they're rich and they run the city. Come on -"
"No, I mean it," he insists, stopping to stand on the sidewalk and frown at his friend. You stop abruptly, too, nearly bumping into them from behind before you make a sharp turn to veer around them to keep walking. Thankfully, they don't pay you any real mind. "They're vampires - I know it. If you would just listen to me -"
"When are you going to stop believing in those ghost stories? They're not real," the woman is insisting, but you've trailed too far away by that point to hear the rest of her sentence.
The Waynes.
The biggest vampire coven on the coast. The only vampire coven left in Gotham.
And yes, they run the city, you think dryly as you continue to weave through winding, narrow streets and look up at the sliver of moon that just barely shines through the damp, foggy night. Yes, you think, they're unbeatable - and they've got the nasty, self-righteous responsibility of keeping this city in check.
A bat flies somewhere overhead and you flinch before huffing and shaking your head. Stupid, you think as you drag your feet. Stupid to move to a place that drove out your kind centuries ago. Stupid to come here knowing that it would carve a bloody target onto your back. Stupid to think that you could just keep your head down and stay hidden and let the rest of the world pass you by.
"That's impossible," Damian says indignantly, sniffing as he crosses his arms. His eyes glow in the dull glint of the Cave and a swarm of bats fly overhead.
"It's not," Dick huffs, frowning down at his brother. "People have been talking about it, I'm telling you."
"There are no werewolves in Gotham, Grayson," Damian snaps, stomping away. "Father's made sure of that." Dick looks to Bruce as Damian disappears in the shadows of the Cave, swept up by the darkness and the crushing echo, and Bruce just sighs thoughtfully.
"It's a war that we won centuries ago, Dick," Bruce says in a smooth, deep rumble. "The wolves were driven out of my city a very long time ago."
"I know," Dick snaps. "That's why it's - Don't you think it's strange? What people have been saying? Wolf prints in the forests by the manor, rumours of people seeing some kind of creature in the city at night, it's -"
"I'm not saying I don't believe you, Dick," Bruce says placatingly as he holds up his hand. "I'm only saying… if this is true… if wolves are back in Gotham, that means war is back on our doorstep. We need to tread carefully, that's all."
"Might be fun," Tim chirps, silently slipping into the conversation between the two of him, his fangs glinting as he grins. "I've always wanted to really see one."
"Don't be reckless, Tim," Dick groans. "They're dangerous. Don't go out and get yourself -"
"If there really is a wolf out there," Bruce continues, ploughing over Dick and Tim's squabble, "it'll do us no good to have people grow suspicious. This needs to be dealt with quietly. Those of us in the shadows… must remain in the shadows. You know this."
"Yea," Tim snaps his fingers and turns to Dick. "How's that, uh, situation with the gargoyle doing, hm? You dealt with that one yet?"
"I'm working on it," Dick snaps, crossing his arms and letting his fangs glint through the darkness.
"This coven is stronger than we ever have been before," Bruce continues, ignoring the feud in front of him. "There's no reason for this to get out of hand. However… we'd be fools to think this thing has really come here alone, and killing it quickly will only bring the rest of the pack. Tim," Bruce spins to face him and Tim straightens under the attention. "Find the creature - track it, find out what it's doing here."
"What - me?" Tim splutters. Bruce merely turns and begins to walk further into the Cave, leaving the two of them in shadow and the echo of his words.
"Of course," he says without looking back. "You wanted to see one up close, after all. Just watch its teeth."
Werewolves, fortunately, have a smell incredibly distinct from humans, so it doesn't take long for Tim to pick you out from the crowd. He's trailing after you as you wander down one of the many twisted streets of the city, keeping you in his sights as you move quickly with your head ducked low.
You're nervous, he realizes quickly - because he can hear it, the frantic beating of your heart and the blood pumping through you. Tim finds himself running his tongue over one of his fangs and tipping his head back for just a moment, letting himself take his eyes off of you for just a second. But then he refocuses and you're suddenly…
You're gone, disappeared from in front of him. Tim freezes, staring at the spot where you'd been before glancing around. Night rose hours ago and, at this ungodly hour, the streets are deserted. It had just been the two of you out here and now, he thinks as he listens to the sudden silence - now it's just him.
The silence stretches on. A street lamp somewhere flickers and a bat flies overhead.
The vicious, rumbling snarl that he hears from behind him isn't enough warning before the force of a wolf slamming him to the ground knocks the wind out of him. Even with his heightened reflexes, he wasn't fast enough to dodge before the two of you are tumbling across the empty road with snapping jaws and clawing hands.
You roll, the both of you, through the yellow, pooled light of a street lamp and into one of the dripping, dirty alleys of the city, and that's where Tim finally rights himself. He smooths his hands through his tousled hair as he hisses at you, baring his fangs as the creature in front of him snarls and snaps dripping, yellowed teeth back at him.
But you don't lunge again - not yet, at least. You circle him, keeping your pale, moonlit eyes focused on him as you growl and shake your fur out from the ordeal.
"You're the wolf," Tim blurts out, and you pause, faltering at the obviousness of it all. Tim crouches in front of you, cocking his head to the side with a curiosity that outweighs any fear that he should feel in this situation, and the action makes you stop completely and square yourself with him.
"I've always wanted to really see one of you," he murmurs, staring at you with sharp, red eyes. "Can you do that whenever you want? I'd always thought it was just… on the full moon." Tim reaches for you then, like he's entranced by whatever morbid curiosity he's wrapped up in, and the sight of it all makes your hackles rise as you bare your teeth.
It's when you finally lunge at him, aiming for his outstretched hand, that Tim snaps back to the present moment and jerks back, up and onto the safety of a fire escape and away from you. He leans over the railing and watches you circle him from below for just a moment before he tips his head back and stares at the blotchy, darkened sky.
"I think," he says slowly, beginning to tip his head back down, "that there's a lot more I'd like to learn about you before this is through." But by the time his eyes are trained on the ground again, you're… gone, disappeared into the blackened night again and leaving him alone.
The next time that Tim comes after you, he feels like he's learned. Dick had chastised him properly when he'd told his brother about his first wolf encounter. He'd reprimanded Tim for not realizing that werewolves are just as supernatural as the vamps - they're fast and deadly and a lot harder to catch than humans.
So, this time around, Tim feels that he's learned. He's trailing you from the rooftops, sticking to vampire domain and staying in the skies as he watches you wander down below, weaving through streets and alleyways.
But he finds himself… confused again. Because you're acting the way that you did on that first night - sharp and skittish and nervous, looking over your shoulder and keeping a hastened pace.
But it can't be because of him, Tim thinks. So what…what are you so afraid of?
Tim glances down to secure his footing for just a moment, but it's long enough for you to have disappeared a second time.
"Fuck," he spits, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Oh my god, Dick's gonna kill me -"
"You're sloppy." A voice makes him whirl around and it's you standing there, your breath heaving with the effort of climbing up onto the roof. Your hands are clenched at your sides and your feet are braced like you're ready for a fight, but Tim just cocks his head to the side and stares at you.
"How'd you do that without me noticing?" he asks. You grit your teeth,
"You're not the first vamp I've hunted. Doubt you'll be the last," you snap, but Tim just hums and nods and turns fully to face you.
"I'm not sloppy." He says it slowly, like he's unsure of the insult. You smile menacingly and something that feels a bit too much like fear crawls up Tim's spine.
"The Waynes have ruled unchallenged for too long," you continue. "You don't know how to hunt anymore. You're sloppy, careless - can't even corner a lone werewolf properly."
"Ah," Tim responds, his voice hardening. "So it's true. You are here for a fight."
"No," you shake your head. "It's just an observation. I'm here," you say clearly, stepping towards him and quirking a brow when he takes a step back, "to tell you to stay away from me. Leave me alone."
"And leave you to come after us? Yea, no chance," Tim scoffs and you just glare at him.
"I don't have anything to do with your family and I don't want anything to do with your family," you snap. "I'm just trying to get away from all that."
"…What?"
"There's no war in Gotham City anymore. That's…that's what everyone says," you say quietly, your voice tapering off. "I just…I'm just trying to get away from it. I just wanted to find somewhere where no one would follow me."
When you dart off the roof, then, heading to the edge and kicking your legs over the side to drop down into the abyss below, Tim finds himself too bewildered to stop you. Your words turn over and over in his mind and he finds that he can't quite grasp why someone would come here willingly. He can't quite understand why someone would flee to a place as cursed as this.
The game of cat and mouse that the two of you begin to play is a bit too much for Tim to want it to end, and he finds himself slinking off, away from the Cave and his prying family more and more often just to chase you down.
He's shocked, startled into frozen silence when he finds you one night hidden in the corner of a deep, dark alleyway. You're plastered against the rough brick wall, unmoving and holding your breath, and when you lock eyes with Tim he sees how wild you look - like an animal caught in a snare.
"What -" Tim begins, but you press a finger over your lips to shush him silently and you look at him desperately, your eyes wide and heart hammering against your ribcage. He slinks into the shadows next to you, keeping himself hidden as he watches you with furrowed brows and concern clouding his eyes. But he listens, nonetheless, straining to hear any sort of sound beyond the typical ruckus of the city.
He does hear something when he really listens, and it's enough to make Tim freeze, a cold sort of terror seeping into him. He can hear it, the bickering conversation of a group of men - and they're talking about you. They're asking where you went, following the trail of your footsteps and the sound of your howls. And Tim can hear it, the sound of a silver bullet clinking in the barrel of a gun. He can hear the grating clank of a wooden stake pressed into someone's palms.
Hunters.
There are werewolf hunters in Gotham… and they're here for you.
Tim stares at you, at the way your eyes squeeze shut in panic and you gasp in a shuddering breath. He stares and something burns in him.
There have been no hunters in Gotham for centuries. The Waynes have been too powerful for too long for anyone to try to go up against them, especially humans with pitchforks and burning torches.
But now… one lone werewolf is enough to bring all of that crashing down. One small person is enough to drag that fear back into their lives, even if it was against your own will.
Tim grabs you by the collar of your shirt, tugging you toward a fire escape. When you resist, when you dig your heels in and shake your head, he hisses and bares his fangs.
"Would you rather I hand you over to them?" he snaps. "It's me or them. Choose." There's a sort of betrayal that flashes through your eyes, then, but you knock his hand off of your collar and begin climbing up to the roof, anyway, trusting him to follow after you.
The night sky, when you make it to the top, is as shrouded and dark as ever, the moon large and looming past the fog that bears down onto you. You stand with your back to Tim, your fists clenched as you take deep breaths and stare out toward the narrow, twisted city.
"You've endangered us all," Tim spits, and your fists clench tighter.
"I'm sure you can handle it."
"No, that's not the point," he snaps as he reaches for you, grabbing you by the shoulder to make you spin and face him. "Why are they after you?"
"Because I'm a werewolf," you say dully. Tim grabs onto the collar of your shirt again and shakes you just a bit.
"Don't be stupid. You have to tell me what's going on or - or… just - please. Tell me," he trails off at the end, keeping you close to him with his fingers bunched into the fabric of your shirt. You put your hands on top of his, your warm palms meeting his ice-cold skin, and when Tim glances down he startles.
He'd never seen you in just a t-shirt before, he realizes, and he sees it now - long, jagged scars on your arms. He knows what they're from - he recognizes them from what he's learned. They're scars from werewolf fights, deep gouges from claws and teeth marring your skin.
"How," he falters. "What - you…"
"You're not supposed to leave your pack," you respond quietly, letting your hands rest atop his as he keeps his grip on your shirt tight. "It's… it's a crime, in a way. You're not supposed to run away."
"Why did you…" Tim looks up at you desperately, something akin to anguish flashing through his cold, red eyes, and a frown tugs on your lips as you try to understand why he's so upset by it all. "What…what happened? You have to tell me what happened."
"Well, I -" you shift on your feet. "I left, Tim. I - there's a war going on out there. My kind and - and yours - we're slaughtering each other. I… I left. I ran away from it. I ran away." Tim lets go of you, then, stumbling back and running his hands through his hair while you continue. "The… the rest of the world isn't like Gotham, Tim. Not all of us have the protection that you do."
"Why Gotham?" he asks abruptly, snapping his head back up to stare at you. "Why come here? You're not safe here."
"I'm not safe anywhere," you point out, but then you sigh and walk to the edge of the roof to sit with your feet swinging over the edge. The frigid winds of autumn are beginning to waft through the city, but the blood that pumps through you keeps you burning always and Tim, as he sits next to you slowly, finds himself unaffected by the cold against his frozen skin.
"There was a time," you continue to explain, "before the bats took over Gotham, when it was still lawless and… and wild. There was a time when my kind was still welcome here. It was… it was centuries, I know, but… I don't - I don't know. In a way, I guess, it's… it's just like coming home." You laugh then, a bit hysterically, at the trap of it all. Through generations and generations, the city has tugged you and pulled you harder and harder and harder until you couldn't help but stumble here. You couldn't help but try to begin to build a home here.
"I…" Tim begins slowly, like the words are being tugged from him against his will. "I know what it's like to be… lonely. I - I know what it's like to feel like you don't belong somewhere."
"Is that so?" you sigh, tipping your head back as a patch of clouds part and the light of the moon shines down onto you.
"I do," he insists rather earnestly. "I… I felt like that. When - when I was human." That makes you pause, makes you tip your head back down, abandoning the light of the moon to look at him, instead.
"You're not… upset about being bitten, then?"
"No, I -" Tim laughs. "I wanted it. I begged Bruce for it."
"Who would ever want such a thing?" you murmur, but there's no real accusation in your voice as you watch him. Tim just shrugs, clenching his hands in his lap.
"It's like I said, I… I was lonely. I didn't - I wasn't anybody or anything. I - I just… I just wanted to belong somewhere. That's all."
"Ah," is all you say in response, tipping your head back again to face the sky. But you're just a moment too late, this time, and the clouds have already swarmed to cover the moon again, leaving the two of you in heavy, damp darkness once more.
Tim, meanwhile, stares down toward the ground, letting his eyes trace over the maze of streets that form the city that he's grown to love. It sort of burns when he remembers it, what it was like to be alone and lost and desperate for a soft place to land - desperate for a place to call home.
"I don't get you," he says suddenly, his voice heavy as it cuts through the night.
"Hm?"
"You gave that up. You had that and you gave it up."
"Tim, I -" you sigh. "No… it wasn't like that. It wasn't that simple."
"Then explain it to me," Tim says quickly, as he turns to face you, propping a leg up on the ledge of the roof so that his knee presses against your hip and you can feel the coolness of his skin seeping into you through your clothes. "Make me understand."
"Why?"
"Because, I -" Tim trails off, staring at you like he's just realized the truth, himself. "Because, I… I want to understand you. I want to know you."
"I… did have those things," you sigh, reeling from Tim's confession and bulldozing on so as to not think about it. "I had a pack and a family and a… a purpose, I suppose. And I did - I gave that up. But it's not…it's not our war, Tim. It's not mine."
"Of course it is," he says immediately, but you sigh and place a hand on his knee, your thumb brushing against his inner thigh.
"No, listen. We are puppets, Tim, fighting a war that doesn't belong to us. Do you know how it started? Do you know why we're sworn against each other?"
"Well…" Tim says slowly. "No, but… I - I just don't remember. But I'm sure it's… I'm sure…"
"You don't even know why you're fighting anymore, do you?" you say gently, and Tim feels a bit like all of the air has been punched out of him. "What do you really believe in? What do you really want to do with those teeth of yours?"
"Well, I don't," Tim begins, and the panic that he feels makes a defensive sort of venom drip from his fangs and pool in his mouth. "I don't want to live like you, shivering alone in an alleyway in a city that you don't belong in while you're - you're hunted like an animal."
"I am an animal, Tim," you smile gently, and a guilt begins to eat at him while his head spins. "We both are."
But he finds that he's not listening to you very well now, too busy spiralling and reeling and feeling the world tip around him as your words ring through his mind over and over and over.
Because you're right, he thinks. You're right because he's sitting here on a rooftop with you, his sworn enemy, and you're warm and kind and looking at him like you care about him. Your shoulder's brushing against his and the warmth of your palm is seeping into his thigh and all that he can think about is how lovely you look under the pale light of the moon.
"Maybe you have a point, though," you laugh, and it's a humourless, hollow sort of thing. "What's the point, really, if… if you're alone?" He wants to scream at you when you say that, wants to grab you by the collar and shake you and say that he gets it now, just a little bit. Because what's the point, really, of living, if you're living someone else's life?
But you're just sighing and closing your eyes and tipping your head back again and Tim finds that he can't speak. He finds that the words get caught in his throat on the way up.
"Curled up in a corner of the world and left with nothing other than survival," you murmur, your eyes still firmly shut. "God, what a life. What a… a lie. What a way to pretend."
"You're not pretending," Tim blurts out, and his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist and hold onto you, anchoring your palm to his thigh. "You're not because - because this is living, right? This is - you're doing it, aren't… aren't you? Isn't it - isn't this what it means to be alive?"
"Alive?" you say quietly, having opened your eyes to stare at him and watch his outburst unfold. "Do you… remember what it was like to be alive?"
Tim lets go of you like you've burned him when you say that. He winces, curling into himself as he feels like he's collapsing under the weight of it all. He can feel his own cold, pale skin and the press of his fangs poking against his bottom lip. He can hear the sound of your heart beating, the rush of your blood through your veins. He can… he can remember - almost, what it was like to have his own beating heart.
"I'm… sorry," you say quietly, looking away from him and making an effort to tug your hand away. "I shouldn't have… I don't mean it like that. I'm sorry." Tim watches as your hand leaves his thigh, as the warmth of your palm melts away and the cold sets in. Looking out toward the endless, looming city, Tim wonders if it was ever really worth it - being alive here.
"Well, maybe…" he begins slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe neither of us are really living. Maybe we - I don't know, maybe you always want what you don't have… or - or something."
"I guess," you laugh, and it's a hollow, lifeless sort of thing. "I guess I… I don't know, it's…" You pause, chewing on your lips as you weigh your words. Tim watches, letting his eyes flick over your lips.
"Lonely?" he offers quietly. You turn to look at him again, shifting so that your sides press together a bit more.
"I'm… I'm not lonely right now," you say quietly, your voice so soft that he's sure he would've missed it in another life where he hadn't turned into this thing. "Are… are you? Lonely, I mean. Right now?" Tim looks at you carefully, weighing your words in his soul as he listens to the unsteady beat of your heart and feels the warmth rolling off of you in waves and splashing onto him.
"…No," he admits, and it feels like a confession of sin, like an unholy action… to find love in an enemy and peace in the middle of a war. "No, I… I'm not - I don't feel lonely right now."
"It doesn't really make sense, does it?" you muse quietly, and as you lean back onto your palms, he finds himself missing your warmth desperately. When he chases after it, following your movement with his own and leaning over you, you let him, a lazy sort of grin slipping across your face.
"What doesn't?" he murmurs in response, although the more he leans into you, the more his mind hazes over and he finds it difficult to listen to reason.
"This," you offer. "This… feud. This war. Are we not just… the same? Are we not creatures of the night, both of us?"
"Creatures, sure," Tim says easily in response as he flashes his fangs at you. You just roll your eyes in response and he listens for the scared uptick of your heartbeat that just… never comes. It's a steady, even beat and he feels it drawing him in and in and in until he's leaning so close to you that your noses are almost touching.
"There are real enemies down there," you murmur, but your voice has grown sombre and your heartbeat has jumped in a way that makes him snarl, all fangs and flashing eyes. You reach to tangle a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and press your forehead against his. "Those hunters… they never stop, you know. They never slow, they never give up. They'll circle endlessly until they find me."
"I won't let them get to you," Tim says in a rush, his words jumbling together in his haste to promise himself to you. You smile ruefully, like you can't quite believe it and you're too tired to try.
"Why?" you challenge.
"Because you're mine."
"Your… enemy? Right…? Right, Tim?"
"Yes," Tim says haltingly, leaning closer to you. Your lips brush against his and a shiver wracks through him.
"I don't think so," you whisper. "I don't think there's any need for us to fight each other. I don't think there's any need for us to fight this…"
That's all it takes, really, to have him lunging for you. Tim's lips are ice cold against yours and the grip that he has on your hips is firm, anchoring you to him. It's only when you reach to tangle both of your hands into his hair that he moves, cushioning the back of your head with his hand as you fall backwards until your back is pressed against the rooftop and he's pressed against you.
"Are you… sure?" he asks tentatively, breaking the kiss to skim his lips down the column of your throat and let his fangs scrape against your skin. "Are you sure you want this? You - you want me?"
"Well, who else?" you quip. "Would you rather I let someone else do this to me?" That's enough to get another snarl from him before his lips are back on yours, taking and taking and taking.
"My love," Tim's voice wakes you slowly, his hand shaking your shoulder gently as you blink your eyes open.
"Hm?"
"The sun will be up soon… I have to go," he says, a bit sullenly. You huff and move to sit, rolling your shoulders out from the hard rooftop as he watches you. There are loving bruises from his lips and fangs littering your neck and collarbones and Tim smiles when he sees them, reaching forward to brush a thumb over some of them and delighting in your shiver.
"You should get out of here," you murmur, your voice thick with sleep still as you lean into his touch.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You…" Tim pauses, frowning at you as he glances around the rooftop. "Those hunters are still out there. You need to be careful. You need - you need to be protected."
"I can protect myself, Timmy," you assure him gently, standing and stretching out your back and shoulders. "I've been doing it for a long time."
"But you don't -" Tim shoots to his feet to look you in the eye while he speaks. "You don't have to - not anymore. I'll… I want to - I just want to look out for you."
"Look out for yourself first," you quip gently, eyeing the light just beginning to crest over the horizon. "You need to get inside. And besides…"
"What?" Tim cocks his head to the side. You shoot him a sympathetic look.
"I'm not sure it's me you should be worried about. What do you think he'll do? Bruce, I mean. What - do you think he'll be happy about this? About you spending the night with something like me?"
"He…" Tim falters. "He doesn't know. Of course, he doesn't know. I wouldn't - I wouldn't do that to you."
"I…" you sigh, stepping forward to press a kiss to the corner of Tim's frown. "I didn't mean it like that. I just need - I want you to be careful. You'll get yourself into trouble if he finds out."
"He won't," Tim assures confidently. "He… he won't."
Tim thinks, as the sun sets once again and he slinks out of the Cave, that he's probably a coward. He considers it as he makes his way out into the crisp, cool air of the night and chases after you - he thinks back to all of the lies that he's begun to tell Bruce.
Your words ring through his head over and over, claims that you have to stand on your own two feet and carve your own soul swarming around him as he thinks of how small he's gotten under the shadow of someone else's war.
He thinks that he has to talk to you about it, has to fall to his knees and ask for guidance, ask for a direction to throw himself into. He thinks -
He smells blood. He sees blood, splattered across the pale concrete of the sidewalk and dripping from a nearby street lamp. He smells it, sweet and thick and heady and… it's yours. He knows it, can taste it in the air. It's your blood… and there's lots of it.
It's a bit of a mad scramble, then, to chase after you. Tim’s senses, usually sharpened to perfection and designed to hunt, become fuzzy as waves of nauseating panic roll over him. He stumbles a bit, tumbling into an alleyway as he follows the scent and the sight of your blood smeared over the cracked, winding roads of this cursed, darkened city. He stumbles and he lurches and then… and then he comes face to face with you.
A great wolf, snarling and snapping and curled into the corner of a shady alleyway, pressed against the rough, brick wall as a silver bullet sits embedded in your shoulder. Tim sort of… freezes at the sight, at the blood oozing from the open wound and the way the smell of it hits the air, his tongue pricking and his fangs pressing against his lip.
"My -" he lurches toward you. "My love, I - holy shit." He falls to his knees before you, the jaws of a wolf snarling and exposed above his head as he stares at the bullet and the silver poison that seeps into you from it. He can hear it, the scattered, frantic beat of your heart - he can hear the wheezing of your lungs and the slowing of the blood pumping through you.
You're dying, and all he can do is fall to his knees in front of you like a prayer. All he can do is curl into himself and grip onto his hair like he's going mad.
"Aw, Timmy," your voice is quiet and shaky and Tim's head snaps up to look at you, now curled on the hard, cold ground in your human form, a pool of your own blood seeping into you. "You look awful."
"Speak for yourself," he snaps weakly, but he reaches for you all the same, dragging your trembling form into his arms as you sway and your eyes blink sluggishly. You wonder, somewhere distant and unimportant, if you're here because you really trust him enough to save you, or if you just… have no choice.
You wonder it as you see him pull his hand away from your shoulder to stare at the blood on it, at your blood, and when his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, you think that this must be a cruel, cruel way to die. Not by the hand of a hunter, but by the hand of your partner. Not by the hand of hate, but… but by the hand of love.
"I'm going to save you," Tim says, though, and the force that rings through you as his words knock the little bit of air that you have left from your chest. He grips your face with a bloody hand, forcing you to look at him and shaking you slightly when you try to let your eyes flutter closed. "I'm going to save you."
"I'm not sure you can, Timmy," you murmur, your voice heavy.
"Hey, no," he taps against your cheek to keep you awake. "You need to stay with me. You need to tell me - I need to know. Who did this? Who did this to you?"
"This isn't really the moment for vengeance, don't you think?" you offer in lieu of an answer. Tim groans and hunches over you, the smell and the sight and the near taste of your blood making his mind spin and his body sway with dizziness.
He gets a bit too close, he realizes, when his fangs are suddenly scraping against the exposed skin of your throat. It's intoxicating, he finds, the feel of it all. But -
But then he feels it, the weakening flutter of your pulse under his tongue, and it's enough to make his head spin for an entirely different reason.
"I'm going to save you," Tim repeats, and this time he's pulling you further into his arms as he stands, holding you securely against him. "I … I can't do this on my own, but - I'm… I know someone who can. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right? I - I promised you, didn't I?"
"Sure," you say sleepily, your words a bit jumbled together as you cling to him. "But who really expects it, hm? A creature like you or me to keep a promise? Who really believes there's a life for things like us?"
"I do," he responds quickly, holding you closer. There's an earnest tilt to his voice that you've never heard before and you wonder, somewhere far, far away, if it's the first time that he's heard that from his own voice, as well. "I - I believe it," he continues. "I believe in a life for my- for you. I… I do. I believe in a life for myself."
"Well, isn't that nice," you murmur, and you mean it as much as you can right now. "I hope you get that, Timmy. I… I really do."
"We'll get it," he pleads with you, and there's a pain in him that feels new to you both. There's a love and a loss that feels so human, so alive that it's sort of… foreign. It's almost out of place coming from a dead thing like him.
It's sound that first greets you when the beginnings of consciousness begin to stir inside you. It's the sound of water dripping from stalactites, of a waterfall crashing somewhere and a rushing river flowing against rocks. It's the sound of bats chirping and squeaking as a thousand wings flutter and flap somewhere high up. It's the endless echo of it all spinning and spinning and spinning and -
And it's Tim, sitting next to you and picking at his nails nervously.
You can smell him, of course, with that animal nose of yours. Just like you can smell… the cave that you're in, wet and damp and dark, reeking of vampire. Vampires beyond just your nervous, stressed-out lover.
The realization makes you shoot fully awake as you rip your eyes open, struggling to sit up right away and wincing at the searing pain that rips through your shoulder. Tim makes a panicked, strangled sort of noise and reaches for you, shushing you gently and trying to coax you back into a relaxed, lying position.
"Tim," you say earnestly, and there's a panic in you - a fear in you that feels as if it's about to crawl up from your throat. "Tim, I'm -"
"It's ok," he says soothingly, smoothing a hand over your hair as he pulls you into his chest, trying desperately to get you to relax as agony blooms from your bullet wound. "Shh, shh, it's alright. You're safe, I promise."
"I'm in a vampire cave, Timmy, I can't - I'm - it's not -"
"It's ok," he says again, firmly this time as he clamps you against his chest, forcing you to stop your struggling and squirming. If you weren't so hurt, if your head wasn't spinning and your eyes weren't blurring, you'd be able to fight back. Especially now, when the full moon hangs overhead, miles above this endless, blackened, twisting cave that you find yourself lost in.
"Timmy," you all but whine, tired and trembling and curling into him as he holds you, shushing you and smoothing a hand over your hair and pressing kisses to the crown of your head.
"It's ok," he repeats. "It's alright. You're… you're safe here, I promise. Nothing's going to hurt you in here."
"You can't know that," you say quietly, pushing against him just a bit. He sighs and readjusts himself so that he can look down to you.
"I - I said I would save you, didn't I? I said I'd bring you to someone who could save you," Tim says earnestly, tightening his grip on you. You freeze at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes as the pieces of your ill-fated night come back to you in burning, painful flashes.
"Who… Tim. Tim, who - what happened? Who…"
"It was…" Tim shifts, looking away from you pointedly as he twists his fingers with yours nervously. "Bruce. It was Bruce."
"It was… Tim -" You laugh a bit hysterically, the sound echoing around the endless, looming cave. "Tim - no, it's… No. he didn't."
"He did," Tim insists. "He did. He… I don't know. I don't know why."
"Is he… is he here?" You shrink a bit as you say it, pressing against Tim's chest as he frowns and wraps his arms around you a bit tighter.
"No," he assures, shushing you again gently. "He's out - they all are."
"For what?"
"Well, see, there's a bit of a pest problem in Gotham," Tim drawls, a hint of mirth in his voice that makes you narrow your eyes. "Werewolf hunters. Nasty things, I'm sure you know. The rest of the family is just… doing a bit of clean up."
"You're -" You squirm out of Tim's grip just enough to sit up and he takes the opportunity to drag you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as you smooth a hand over the hair on the nape of his neck. "Your family is out… to go after werewolf hunters?"
"Yes," Tim says plainly. You give him a withering sort of look.
"Bruce Wayne, King of the Vampires, saved the life of a werewolf and now he's out, running around under the full moon and tearing apart hunters?" you say dryly.
"Yes," Tim repeats. "It's his city, after all. It's his job."
"It's not," you say quickly, frowning as you tilt your head back to look at Tim, at his red eyes and pale, cold skin. "This is… this is something else. Timmy, you've - you've got to tell me what happened."
"Well - it's," Tim shifts where he sits, looking away a bit bashfully in a way that makes you follow his gaze with your own and narrow your eyes suspiciously. "I don't think he's ever seen me like that before," he continues quietly, a trembling sort of quality making his voice waver. "I've never… I've never begged him for something like that. I don't - I don't think I've ever cared enough about anything to beg like that. It - I don't know, I think maybe it scared him."
"It didn't scare you?" you say gently. The smile that Tim gives you is pained and frail.
"It terrified me so much that I swear to god my heart started to beat again for the first time," he whispers, curling against you so that he can press his face to your neck and feel your pulse against his tongue.
"Oh, my love," you offer gently, curling your fingers in his hair as you pull him closer. He laughs a bit wetly and pulls away from you just enough to look down at you again, smoothing his hands over your hips to pull you closer on his lap.
"But, you know, I…" Tim pauses as he cocks his head to the side and you watch as the thoughts roll through his mind. "I think, maybe, he… I don't know - maybe Bruce wanted me to, just a bit."
"What… what do you mean?" you ask, cautiously.
"Well, I - I don't think I'm a very good liar. I don't think there's much that really happens in this city that Bruce doesn't know about." Tim shrugs. You straighten as you stare at him.
"So you're saying he - what, he knew? The whole time?"
"I don't - I don't really know. I'll probably never know for sure. Bruce doesn't -" He cuts himself off with an echoing sort of laugh. "He doesn't really share. But - I don't know… I feel like I saw something in him when I showed up with you. I feel like he was almost… proud." Tim shifts in his seat and looks out to the endless darkness of the cave. "I feel like he was proud of me, maybe, for going out and starting to lie. For… I - I don't know, maybe he was proud when I went out and started to become something beyond a shadow of this place."
"Tim, I'm -" you start, your heart flipping in your chest at his confession, at the earnest waver in his voice.
"It's lucky, you know," he barrels on, like he can't stop all of it now that it's started, like he's split open his chest and cracked open his ribs and can't keep his unbeating heart contained anymore. "Bruce said that it's lucky, I mean. Because it's the full moon. It's - he said that if it was a different time in the cycle, if you hadn't been as strong, you wouldn't have…" He trails off, then, holding you tighter to his chest as he makes a choked, painful sort of sound somewhere in the back of his throat.
"But, I… I didn't" you offer gently, letting him hold you against him as tightly as he needs. "I didn't leave you. I wouldn't - I won't." Tim laughs a bit frantically, burying his face into your neck.
"What an odd thing," he murmurs, his voice muffled, "to belong in such a place."
"Yes," you agree, "but what a place to belong. What a place to call home."
"I don't think you should be here," you quip without looking back, and you hear a sigh in response before Tim breaks out into a jog to catch up to you where you're strolling down one of the endless, darkened sidewalks of Gotham. "It's too late - early. You don't have much time until the sun comes up."
"Was I close this time?" he asks rather sullenly. You pretend to think about it for a moment.
"I only caught you, hm… three blocks ago? Not bad," you shrug. He groans and reaches to tug you to him, holding you against his chest so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate skin there with his fangs.
"I don't think you should be out right now," he murmurs gently and you sigh, patting him on the head.
"The new moon happens every month, Timmy," you placate softly. "I'll be ok."
"You're not at your strongest right now," he says in defence and you can't help but shrink a bit under his piercing, red gaze when he pulls his head back up to stare down at you. You don't look well, you know, the effects of being so far from the full moon wearing on you as the dark circles under your eyes grow and your hands tremble.
"It's only temporary," you offer soothingly, pulling him against you to let him wrap an arm around your shoulder as you continue walking down the cracked sidewalk. "It will pass. It always does." And it's true, you think as you step one foot in front of the other. It will pass, it will pass, it will pass. It always does.
And it's made easier, of course, by the sturdy weight by your side and the arm that holds you so steady. It's made easier, somehow, by the fluttering of a bat's wings overhead and the looming, watchful gaze of a Vampire King.
"Temporary," Tim huffs, grumbling under his breath. You reach for his hand so that you can tangle your warm fingers with his cold ones and press kisses to his knuckles.
"But you're here, right? Hm? What could possibly happen to me?" you ask teasingly.
"Nothing," Tim answers seriously, and you smile gently as you squeeze his fingers with your own. "Nothing. I'm here - always."
"Well, isn't that nice," you say, and you mean it. How nice, you think, to have something constant- something permanent, even as the world shifts and changes around you. How safe to have something so sturdy to fall back on.
"I don't mind it, really," you continue as you tip your head back and look up at the empty, blackened sky. "It's just a part of it, you know. It comes… and it goes."
"Like… like all things, I suppose," Tim admits a bit stiffly. You offer him a loving smile.
"Like most things," you correct. "Not… not you. Not us."
"Never us," he responds quickly, his arm around you tightening as a cold breeze blows through and you shiver slightly. "Never us. I - I… I love you. And that's - I mean… that's as constant as anything can be."
And how odd, you think as you stop abruptly so that you can pull him in by his collar and kiss him, to find safety in the arms of a vampire. How strange to have the heart of your enemy pressed against yours and to feel it come back to life just so that it can beat in time with yours.
How right it all feels… despite, despite, despite.
Because it's one thing, you suppose, to trust him when you're at your strongest. But it's another thing entirely, you think, to trust him at your weakest, to place your glittering heart into his undead hands and watch him hold it with tender care.
How interesting, you think, to build a home in this of all things. But it is home, you consider as he presses his cold lips against yours and holds you ever so gently against a darkened alley wall. And the home that you build is found where you least expect it sometimes.
Home is the open blue sky and the full moon hanging in it. Home is deciding where you belong and carving a space for yourself into the night. Home is the crisp, cold air of a cursed, tangled city that never sleeps and never really dies.
#smsn.writes#smsn.events#tim drake#tim drake x reader#tim drake x you#tim drake fluff#tim drake smut#tim drake imagine#tim drake fic#tim drake fanfiction#red robin#red robin x reader#red robin x y/n#red robin x you#red robin imagine#red robin fanfic#dick grayson#bruce wayne#damian wayne
50 notes
·
View notes
Note
To expand on this a bit more: A big problem with trying to make fantastic groups metaphors for One Specific Thing is that it tends to overlook the parallels they might have with many different marginalized groups.
Let's work off the example of vampires. Vampires needing blood to survive can be seen as similar to poor people needing government aid, diabetic and other chronically ill people needing medicine, etc. On the other hand, the risk of a vampire flying into a violent rage when provoked would be be more similar to someone with anger regulation difficulties.
In addition, vampires would not be the only people who can become violent or otherwise unpredictable when robbed of basic necessities. Any human beings, driven to the point of desperation, may steal, fight, even kill. These actions carry incredible ethical stigma, the same as a vampire harming someone for blood.
In both of these cases, there's a common assumption that it is rational to be afraid of everyone in the groups most prone to these behaviors. But that's not really true - and that fear is actually part and parcel of their marginalization, compounding the problems that they're already dealing with.
This can apply to pretty much any fantasy creature. By trying to make their various traits fit through one specific lens, you end up leaving out or misinterpreting things that are no less important or nuanced.
What's your opinion on using monsters such as vampires as metaphors for oppressed minorities in fiction? Can it be pulled off well?
One potential problem is that generally, vampires are portrayed as being potentially dangerous, and there is never a less than insignificant risk that they lose control and kill someone regardless of whatever efforts they make to live ethically. For example, being without blood or any substitutes could make things turn nasty real quick. And in some media things like fire and intense emotions like rage can trigger the vampire into entering a berserker rage.
Because of this, being fearful and suspicious of vampires would be a rational response to something that could kill you, unlike real life minorities.
I am of the opinion that any attempt to reduce fantastic elements in a work of fiction into a simple metaphor is bad, whether it's on the author's part or the reader's. I think fantastic things are often far more complex than that, or at least should be, and trying to reduce them to mere symbols does them a disservice, and is generally done so critics can avoid actually having to think about those fantastic elements for what they are and instead write them off as just a metaphor.
Like, I think if a writer goes into a story saying, "Werewolves are a metaphor for gay people in my story," it's gonna result in some pretty offensive shit whether they intend to or not, because no matter how you modify the werewolf concept, it's never going to be a 1:1 match with real life gay people, and inevitably that simplistic comparison is going to become unflattering.
As a writer, I think it's best to approach fantastic elements as their own unique thing - they can have elements of real world issues, but ultimately they're distinct unto themselves. Not a simple metaphor, but a complex one, the kind that can't be summarized in a Screenrant article or a hastily written response to an ask on tumblr.
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unsure if writing an epilogue ahead of time means I’m on track to absolutely scramble for words in order to get to 50,000 or not
#all the stuff i just completely glossed over definitely does but in my defense#i wanted to avoid doing research#a lot will need to be fleshed out later#like a lot#maureen does nanowrimo 23#i have less than 20k words to write now so maybe i’ll be fine#it’s a first draft and i don’t have an outline#i could introduce vampires at any time if i get worried i won’t reach 50k#the vampires would not fit in but that’s not the point
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
#Interview with the Vampire#loudaniel#danlou#Louis de Pointe du Lac#daniel molloy#iwtv#iwtvedit#tvedit#Vampterview#*gif#truth and reconciliation#there are so many parallels between them in s1 but i'll probably wait for s2 to make it#it will be a huge project. idk how to fit it all#this gifset would work better in video format but i got no programs nor experience#flashing gif
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
heres my take on "what if danny phantom met bruce wayne"
#danny: I ALREADY HAVE ONE BILLIONAIRE WITH A VAMPIRE THEMED SECRET IDENTITY TRYING TO ADOPT ME I DONT NEED ANOTHER#bruce: ...its a bat not a vampire#danny: YOU REALIZE THE THEMING IS NOT THE MAIN ISSUE RIGHT#this is also for day seven of#cringetober#cringetober 2024#danny phantom#danny fenton#vlad masters#batman#bruce wayne#dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#im sure this has to have been pointed out before but i only watched danny phantom like a couple weeks ago#mack.png#also my personal takes aside from 'danny desperately tries to not get adopted by the man who already has at least 6 kids'#-bruce doesnt even want to adopt him he just sees danny as a potential threat and is trying to get a read on his whole deal#-danny would be a better fit for a superman sidekick rather than a batman one#-my brother pointed this out but danny meeting conner and just being like 'hey can you help my clone out she's having Problems'#-also danny hearing about tim trying to clone conner and just going 'WHY DO BILLIONAIRES KEEP TRYING TO DO THIS'
189 notes
·
View notes
Text
Interview with the Vampire 1.03 "Is My Very Nature That of the Devil" 2.02 "Do You Know What It Means to Be Loved by Death"
#iwtvedit#iwtv#interview with the vampire#i know the you've been blessed/moonlight lyin' would have been a better fit dialogue-wise#but i really wanted to pair armand and jonah looking at louis like he hung the stars in the sky so#louis de pointe du lac#armand#armand iwtv#jonah macon#loumand#louis x jonah#beegifs
308 notes
·
View notes
Text
A girl dreaming of marriage and children
Aaand one year later: I added some colors!
#my art#lineart from 2023#dracula#dracula daily#lucy westenra#bloofer lady#vampire#i know some people have brought up the very good point of making this a series with more characters#and i would love to do that!#but it kinda doesnt fit into what i´m doing rn qwq#i too would love to see it but i also have to make it and i´m lacking inspo rn#and all i really wanna do is lino prints#or more accurately i want to do the carving n cutting bit feels good feels real after working digitally all day#sorry qwq#also i´m still sorry if the clothes here aren´t accurate#a friend gave me some references but they were mostly sewing patterns lol#real sweet but i dont read sewing pattern
171 notes
·
View notes
Text
There are still sooo many questions I have about Daniel’s timeline which largely go back to that memoir anecdote about the car seat and the Buick from S1E3.
The blurb on the back of the memoir itself makes the book seem like it only follows Daniel’s life in San Francisco, specifically when he lived in the Haight neighborhood. So, if we go by when car seats became mandatory in the US in 1985, his first daughter would have been born anywhere from 1974 to 1978 making her anywhere from 44-48 by the interview in Dubai. This would then put his second daughter being born in 1985 making her 36/37.
Both would likely have been long since married and/or divorced by then, so the talk Daniel and Louis had in S1E6 seeing them reach those benchmarks makes little sense. Daniel should have already seen those things. He could even feasibly have young great grandchildren by now from that first daughter.
So, this would then suggest that the daughter born in Paris in 1985 is the first child and the second one came much later and possibly with his second wife and is likely in their 20’s now. Which could still work with the “7 years” editor comment because car seats became mandatory in France in 1992. And this would make that conversation between Louis and Daniel work better (although still not great because even then there is still a high likelihood that both daughters could be married). But then WHY would that anecdote be in his memoir about his time in San Francisco.
And it still begs the question why Daniel and Alice were in Paris for so long, especially if the first timeline is the correct one and they had a 7 to 11-year-old daughter at the time which I find highly unlikely in that case. But this being their first child would make no sense either since how could the two of them afford the café lifestyle in Paris if Daniel is giving away his last $30 for drugs in 1985.
It must be an unintentional flub, right? And they just didn’t account for either how old his daughters would be when they scripted S1E3 or didn’t plan out the idea of the memoir/timeline well because even if one threw in the Armand/Alice stuff the timeline seems highly questionable because Daniel clearly did have at least one child with Alice either in 1978 or 1985 because there is no way his memoir would have passed scrutiny otherwise.
#Yes I know I am reading too far into it but it would muddle the “memory is a monster” story beat if the timeline is just borked#It just seems like if they went out of their way to make these fake books and timeline events it would fit together more satisfyingly#iwtv s2#iwtv amc#iwtv season 2#devils minion#armand is alice#louis de pointe du lac#iwtv season 1#amc iwtv#interview with the vampire#iwtv#daniel molloy#armand
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
forever mourning the fact that claudeleine didn’t get to experience more fashion eras
#they’re about to eat you#in this edition: 60s!#Claudia would have LOVED mod fashion and fun makeup#madeleine would tailor all their clothes to actually fit them bc off the rack is a sin#claudeleine#iwtv#iwtv fanart#the vampire Claudia#madeleine eparvier#claudia eparvier#claudia de lioncourt#claudia de pointe du lac#Claudia de lioncourt du lac eparvier#interview with the vampire#my art#watercolor
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
I will make a greater post about this another time but i just want us all to think about why Armand turned daniel. I believe that the turning 1. didn't happen out of spite and 2. didn't happen in the dubai penthouse. I believe Armand turned Daniel as an act of self sabotage and to create distance between them. The turning happened at Daniels house, maybe the share a few drinks like Eric loves to say, but Daniels starts asking questions and Armand, with no where else to go and nothing else to do, answers them, with hesitation and without full honesty. Daniel will pick up on it and pry probably harder than he did with Louis. Armand would be on edge not just because Daniel's being invasive, but because Daniel's 1. genuinely curious about him and 2. getting to understand him in a way that no one else has tried before and That would send Armand in to a panic. And because Armand has an inability to react in a proportional manner he turns him.
Armand believes that Fledgling-Maker relationships could never work out (in Episode 6 he says so to Louis). He wanted to take away the opportunity for himself to ever have a deeper relationship with Daniel whose maybe not the only but the first person in hundreds of years to see him for who he is and wants to stick around.
And this probably isn't the first time he's considered turning him "The idea repulsed me, Repulses me" (Episode 6).
Maybe there was a small element of revenge to it, especially since he doesn't particularly like Daniel at this moment, he did just ruin his 80 year relationship and took a sadistic pleasure out of it, Maybe Armand justifies it to himself as revenge but i do believe Armand is fond of Daniel because of whatever history they had in after 1973.
so even if when we see it and it seems like revenger or spite there is a level of love that Armand has for Daniel And im running on the belief that they do infact have history so just imagine with me for a second; Armand's fangs deep in Daniel's neck as he holds him and he sees the happiest times of his life, publishing, marriage, birth, and the worst of times, addiction, divorce, rejection. and inbetween it all we get glimpses of how Daniel truely sees Armand. Through the resentment and fear, there's deep fascination and a twisted sort of love that he really has for him. It would affirm Armand's reason for doing it but also overwhelm him, like he's naked on the street, so he'd run. He'd feel entirely too vulnerable around Daniel so he'd run.
#devil's minion#armand#daniel molloy#iwtv#i also think they fuck at some point but idk how exactly that would fit in. but they're both freaks they'd figure it out#my talk#interview with the vampire
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
it must have been said already by someone more eloquent than me, but i find it fascinating how lestat and armand mirror each other in terms of power dynamics and gender roles.
we have lestat. 'how can i say no to you' lestat. the stark father and maker to claudia and somehow later louis, the one that the new orleans tour guide mentions as the master of the house, the one that will not have claudia leave. his violence is loud and physical and outward, his sadism is somewhat acknowledged by him yet keeps happening. he almost kills louis when they fight by his, lestat's, own actions. he regrets it, sure, louis responds to his attacks often, sure. the violence between them is open.
not bothering to clean, only insisting that louis does eat. up to a certain point he even finances louis' wishes and whims. he is promiscuous, he gets lover(s), he is often (though not always) the first to make his desires known (considerable considerables etc etc).
despite the attributes that are considered unmanly (flair for dramatics, inclination to theatre and arts, queerness), he remains the more traditionally masculine figure in the relationship. he is the patriarch of the family, or at least he presents himself in that way in louis' memories.
(it, of course, does not mean that louis falls into the traditionally feminine role. the dichotomy of traditional heterosexual/heteronormative marriage is not fully applicable to even straight relationships because it is primarily a cultural ideal.)
we have armand. 'are you asking, maitre' armand. famously a victim, agentless by his own belief and volition. saying louis can leave in san francisco, yet staying in power by a) mind control (yay!), b) lies, manipulation, witholding information and c) care. he is also violent. he orchestrates louis (and claudia's, and madeleine's) death, yet is discrete about it to the very end; he saves and cares for louis after his suicide attempt, yet all of it is hidden behind mind control for five decades after.
picking lint off the sofa, cleaning up after louis (or claiming to do so) gives armand control over what is seen and what is not, what is kept and what goes. a humble servant rashid. it also gives him a great guilt tripping point: whatever louis does, armand just has to clean up after him, and isn't louis grateful for that? while not stated directly (i think), louis investments in art and real estate are the main source of money for loumand. lastly, an ex-prostitute, armand the one to lay face down while being fucked and seems to have no outside lovers (or louis just has more, ie 128).
not completely feminine, as aren't his gremlin nature and the ultimate violence and power that he keeps over louis both in the '70s and 2022 stay; yet armand still seems pretty much submissive, or wants to be that himself and for louis to be dominant (servant-master, arun-maitre), all the while keeping some control from the shadows. he is the quiet daniel's been longing for, the vacuming valium wife.
the first was louis' husband unforgettable through 77 years of marriage. the second was the proclaimed love of his life and a partnership to spite the first that may have grown into love but not enough to forget lestat. active violent power and shadowy mind control. a kind of husband and a kind of wife to louis, both defining him in and out of partnership
#i have armand bias yes. im sorry#ive just rewatched s2e5 and had sudden thoughts crazy right#anyway not saying that this fully fits or that they are exact mirrors as that would be limiting#and untrue and very angled vision of the characters and the story#interview with the vampire#iwtv amc#armand the vampire#armand de nothing#louis de pointe du lac#lestat de lioncourt#loustat#loumand#additionally: in the play lestat is an actor and a seeming agent while being controlled to do what he does#while armand is seemingly the agentless prisoner while being a director who controls the entire ordeal#in conclusion fr: louis please be your own person for a bit or try to be a little healthier. not too healthy just a little healthier
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
anyway shri’iia’s epilogue outfit which is a mix of 1900s male stage costumes and also that one camp outfit mod. look at the ring hehe 🤭
#it’s so whimsical I love it ….. the silhouette is based on the stage costumes#where they have like the cinched waist poofy bottoms and then stockings#but in her case it’s boots but she’s wearing these particular boots that I think fits with the whimsy elements the fit has#and the top is like a reconstructed coat but off the shoulders with the poofy sleeves bc I want to give her that rapunzel / tangled vibe#since her backstory was inspired by rapunzel ofc …!!!!#and it still has that sexy element drow fits are known to have … but this one isn’t like outright naked sexy it’s more of a teasing kind#which fits her..!! like this is her whole personality turned into an outfit I really like it 🤭🤭🤭🤭#and it’s the personality that she slowly regains when she becomes more genuine … and she’s finding herself more (via the oathbreaking route#unlike before the clothes she wore were like costumes bc she’s trying to project a certain image. now it’s her actual authentic self#character building through fashion and wear? maybe so!#as for the stage inspo I think her own style would lean that way bc a) she prob has been influenced by astarion who I think has a more#theatrical style and since she’s new to the fashion in the surface she’ll probably ask him a lot#b) it’s a whimsical style!! and fun!! very bard like tbh but I think that’s what she’ll end up liking. it’s different from the tight#fitting/see through/sleek outfits that drow fashion favours and I think she’ll want to experiment w a different style than she’s used to#and also as for the ring. it’s a promise ring hehehe I talked abt it before but I like the idea that at some point they give each other#promise rings bc marriage!!! or anything of the sort!!! feels too big and too daunting currently and they’re probably taking it slow like#they’re elves they have all the time in the world quite literally for him he’s a vampire but I like the idea they have something that#reminds them or gives them that possibility of like something more 👁️ and the promise rings are just that. also they probably stole the#rings or looted it off a dead body somewhere lmfao#anyway…… Some Thoughts. !
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
(follow-up to this)
having grown up in atlas, weiss is very familiar with the academy's team anti-frat policy and gets very hung up on just how much trouble they could get in if anyone thinks they're dating.
(which they're definitely not doing. no, sir. absolutely not, sir.)
so better safe than sorry.
(except winter has eyes. and also doesn't care.)
#snowstorm vampire au#weiss schnee#nora valkyrie#nordic winter#rwby#rwby au#winter schnee#this may have been an excuse to draw winter okay don't @ me i've neevr drawn her before and once i realized this fit the sitch i had to#weiss (upon being properly lucid): wait they saw?? PENNY SAW?!?!?! we are going to be in SO MUCH TROUBLE OH MY GODS#(they're not. honey. you are riding so many exceptions right now this barely registers)#heavens forgive me im shitposting about my own fic aksbskdbsnsdn#kina draws#ssvau future spoilers#though they're probably not too bad there's just a lot a details thart raise a lot of questions i cannot answer right now#ignore the mix of volume hairstyles and stuff i had to choose practicality over spoilers assume nothing is canon until proven otherwise#*shrugs* i mean its a military academy thry probably have anti frat rules im running with it#did i spend too much time thinking about the initial comic to the point where is't baaaaasically canon. maybe hush now.#also like. weiss has already broken so many rules why would she hang on to this one specific one?#well you see when you're repressing your feelings for the girl who's save your life a million times you'll take whatever wall you can build#arc ii hiatus
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Of course the writing juices start to flow at midnight. Of course. And of course what I wanna write is not my WIP but a Loustat serial killer au with knife kink. Of course.
#loustat#lestat de lioncourt#louis de pointe du lac#huh. maybe I should rewrite one of my old birthday fics#i can totally see it#it would fit so well#amc interview with the vampire
19 notes
·
View notes
Photo
#i was making danlou gifset but decided to have one just for louis. look at him#interview with the vampire#vampterview#iwtv#louis de pointe du lac#jacob anderson#iwtvedit#tvedit#*gif#you'd think one psd would fit all of these 4 huh. nope it has different lighting on each of them. i'm going to kill whoever decided this#vampchives
614 notes
·
View notes
Text
i think if any one was to write a steddie/vampire chronicles au, steve should be louis and eddie as lestat, the parallels dont need to be explained you get it
and if someone wrote it, i feel they should base it off of the queen of the damned novel, it could be an au retelling the story with steddie as the characters instead of loustat or even an canon divergent au where eddie becomes an vampire after the upside down scenario in the '86, i definitely think it works with the book arc the best, not the movie version
like you get eddie becoming a vampire rockstar for the bit, part of lestats whole motivation was to reach out to louis to warn him about akasha awakening, and lets not forget the reunion after the final concert performance, imagine eddie performing, trying to get out a message for steve 40 years later, then they reunite and its like they never separated, then you have them getting the party back together for a final showdown be it vecna or some other upsidedown entity, i just think itd be so fun
#steve was clearly turned at some point by eddie possibly early in their relationship and post st4#not going to imagine a reason for them to split up bc louis had a lot of resentment for lestat so im not putting myself in that headspace rn#but you can insert whtvr be it immortality being a burden or right person wrong time#im partial to merging the major arc of queen of the damned with the plot of stranger things post s4vecna but i can see the other way working#i dont know if anyone has considered this at all but its eating my thoughts atm#i know it seems random but ive spent the whole morning talking about the vampire chronicle books and i love anne rices writing#and like the parallels definitely aren't completely in sync but it would be a great concept#specifically the books tho the movies dont do a great job of portraying louis and lestats connection and ive not seen the show#but its a different story so it doesnt have the same story beats that would fit steddies dynamic#i might just write the van scene in qotd but the whole book is ripe with opportunities for an au#steddie#stranger things#stranger things headcanons#stranger things brainrot#if anyone would be interested in writing this pls let me know#also no one get onto me about my explanation of the books i am paraphrasing an 800page novel
10 notes
·
View notes