claudia still gets infantilized by media surrounding iwtv despite this being core to the tragedy of her condition
i think shes always been infantilized & ppl dont see the merit of her arc bc ppl rly only care about female characters in relation with romance or if they are children [or someone’s child of sorts?] in so far as they relate to the men rearing them. [cue 5001 lestat-claudia webweaves]. claudia is both selectively infantilized & excessively adultified whenever convenient to character/s [somehow both a ‘child interfering’ and both powerful enough to ‘turn louis against lestat’] nd to a certain extent by the fandom too. speaking of the show here too - show!louis now wanting claudia as his child is never disseminated for what it is in relation to louis (how he wanted children, and how hes forcibly exiled from the public sphere & makes do with the quasi-domestic) or claudia (in her want for a companion in immortality & wanting to understand the origins of their existence. in both the book and the show its claudia who initiates the question of ‘who made lestat/vampires as a whole’) but rather ppl render show claudia inert solely as a fictional moral bludgeon to character bash louis or make stuntin like my mommy/daddy posts with lestat. i was thinking too the other day how people often talk about iwtv in the sense of outcasts but never mention claudia… which is insane bc this line in the show alone says so much
But it was 1939, and the only N* allowed in first class was the porter, and the N* passenger rode the rear. The N* vampire made do with what was left, which was fine with her.
neither second-class passenger nor porter directly serving whites: claudia is the black vampire sitting in the stowaway with the dogs and people’s luggage, earlier hiding out in university corners pretending to be the cleaner’s child, engorging herself on blood and taking body parts from her victims to put in storage all if it means she could have something for herself. shes really the ult. outcast of sorts.
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hello! i am back with yet another…thing. thank u for the tag @lovelymasks <3 (i realised, upon second reading, that this was supposed to be a sunday snippet but i’m an idiot n therefore this is now a saturday snippet mwuah)
I think you should go to a Healer, Sirius.
Why, he’d asked, flippant. What was there to do with a Healer when you were a convict on the run? Besides, Sirius was wrong in a way that couldn’t be made right. He was past the point of return. Healers would’ve barely known what to do with him before Azkaban, let alone in the condition he was in now.
Because you look like a stiff wind will blow you over, Harry’d answered, though the answering flippancy didn’t quite land the way he intended because what Sirius heard was ‘Because I don't want to lose anyone else.’
What Harry didn't say, and Sirius didn’t want to hear, was ‘Because I can’t lose another parent.’
He quietly acquiesced after that. The trembling, hopeful smile growing on his godson’s face was enough to wipe away all apprehensions after that.
Until now, when Harry was at Hogwarts, and he was second guessing this whole business.
Did he really need a Healer, like, really?
One look at the mirror in front of him gave him a solid, sturdy answer.
He was dressed in his old rags and it was a testament to the conditions of Azkaban that clothes from when he was younger, before hitting his final growth spurts, were barely just fitting him now. Sirius’ back was almost constantly bent these days--all days spent curled up in a ball seemed to have reshaped his skeletal structure, who knew--each vertebrae gaining a distinct notch in the column of his skin. His stomach was a fascinating blend of too small and too bloated. He couldn’t keep anything down, but he wasn’t able to eat much either. A mystery for the ages.
Less said about his face, the better. Sirius wasn’t vain, never had any reason to be, but there was a certain…pride he’d maintained, a level of outward appearance that was considered bare minimum for a Black, a conditioning he’d never managed to shake off.
It was that conditioning itching at him now, turning him away from any reflective surface before he could see his distorted features, grotesque and inhuman, staring back at him.
And ultimately, it was that, he realised with a shameful sort of guilt, that pushed him to see a Healer. Not his godson’s pleading look, not concern for his wellbeing--but leftovers from an upbringing that he hated, his mother’s words he couldn’t stop hearing, his father’s sharp commands.
Ultimately, it was his blood that made him give in, as it always did.
further tagging @jmagnabo92 @soopsiedaisies @groundzero-v 💜
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hiii i wrote this way way back after 5x10 aired from buck's perspective and finally got around to making a little demo that i don't hate :') lyrics under the cut!
lyrics:
your blood on my face
splattered like rain on the sidewalk
your hand reaching out
lips trying to form the shape of my name
i could see it right then
the shape of my life without you
i knew i would hate it
more than anything
ten years ago
bloody bruised cheek on the pavement
ears ringing out
i’ve never felt so alone
five years ago
driving across a new state line every four months
like my body knew it needed
to be where you are
you built me a home here
i let you touch me in places that
nobody else would dare to
you built me into your life behind my back
just in time to take your exit
what am i supposed to do with that?
your blood in my mouth
stuck to my gums like molasses
i still taste your death
when i jolt awake at night, covered in sweat
and i still feel the rain fall like bullets
the night that i tried to dig you out
i swear i will dig us out of here
and we’ll be alright
you gave me a home here
i let you save me in ways i thought
nobody would ever care to
you wrote me into your life then turned your back
you know i would never reject it
but would it kill you to ask?
in the doorway, waiting by phone
just out of reach, just shy of alone
but you know me, i’ll never leave
you can’t hit the ground if you never let go
so i’ll take this, i’ll lap up this scraps
i’ll fake fulfillment until i collapse
and you know me, heart on my sleeve
i swear i’ve been screaming, “please don’t leave”
guess you didn’t hear that
you built me a home here
i let you touch me
you built me into your life
behind my back
just in time to take your exit
what am i supposed to do with that?
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