vampire divorce utopia
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8thdigit.bsky.social
vampire divorce utopia
@8thdigit.bsky.social
150 followers 67 following 860 posts
writer. lover of the gory and depraved. currently enjoying vampires 🔞

https://ao3.org/users/8thDigit/ / https://squidgeworld.org/users/8thDigit/
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8thdigit.bsky.social
Louis de Pointe du Lac in Season 2 Episode 5 of “Interview with the Vampire”
August 30, 2025 at 8:16 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
read something wretched (nice) and suddenly remembered I was writing horrible bad end Riccardo/Amadeo for a friend #wipwhateverday
But it was bad enough to think these things, and unthinkable to speak them, so Riccardo put his arms around Amadeo and brought the two of them to the mattress, held him for a moment to try to fill himself with strength, and then rolled off of him. “I want to be with you,” he said trying to make his words seem brave. “Do you want all my clothes off?” Amadeo smiled then, brightening his whole face. “I can take them off for you,” he said teasingly. He grabbed at the bottom of Riccardo’s tunic, and Riccardo sat to help as he tugged it and the undershirt up over Riccardo’s head. Bare now, Riccardo snuck his hands under Amadeo’s tunic—trying to move steadily, to disguise how his hands shook. Amadeo smiled at him as he raised his arms, and then smiled at him after, when the tunic went over his head. A presence behind Riccardo—as he turned to look, Amadeo grabbed his face again. “Only look at me,” he said with a smile.
August 29, 2025 at 2:27 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
aug 16 — mirror/stranger, word count: 180

“180 years old... this coming November.”

behold my obelisks
Louis sometimes thinks: to be a vampire was to be an obelisk. A marker constructed in the ground that said: here there once was a person. Now, this stands in its place. Standing hard and cold—impenetrable to the outside observer. Frozen in time, as the environment around shifted and changed. Looming grimly—spearing the sky. The longer Louis exists, the less he wanted to go outside, he finds. Come stay in the coffin with me, Armand. Or, more often, leave me, Armand. I want to be alone. The Egyptians would raise their obelisks in pairs—believing that the two on earth were reflected by two in the heavens. Louis barely wanted to look at Armand, some days. There will be no heaven for either of them. After it was built, the modern obelisk looked so out of place amongst the city of Washington D.C. that a reflection pool was added—so the monument could gaze upon its own reflection. Louis thinks: maybe it’s time to give that a try. Some reflection. He digs out his old tape player.
August 18, 2025 at 11:02 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
aug 15 — altar/sacrifice, word count: 42

“The final words of her victims. There were 42 pages, if I remember correctly.”
You removed more of them. A startling accusation, thrown onto the altar of the dining table. Not to be undone. The pages are gone—into the fire, just the same as Claudia. Get over the table, Louis says, as he slides off his belt.
August 18, 2025 at 10:59 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
aug 14 — teeth/mouth, word count: 138

“138 pounds for the metrically challenged. Metronomic, my Rashid.”

I wrote two for this. tw for the second for sexy teeth and nail removal
There was nothing Rashid loved more than the feeling of teeth in his throat. *”My little blood-bag,”* Louis would husk, and Rashid would feel his eyes roll back in his head, baring his neck as if to say, *in me, in me.* When creating *Rashid,* it was very important to get the character right: this is a young man who willingly climbed into bed with a monster. Who devoted himself to Him completely. Who was weak enough to need Him. This is a young man who opened his legs, even as he felt the teeth in him. Who drooled and begged for more when He touched him (whether a caress or a slap). This was a young man who liked to gaze at the blood-filled mouth of his master, watch him swallow, grateful the blood was his own. “You don’t need these,” Louis says, “if you’re going to play human.” He wraps two fingers around Armand’s left incisor, sharpened to a monstrous point. Armand panics—Rashid melts into his hands. *Maître* knows best. This was an old coven punishment—Armand used to wield the hammer and chisel himself. *Maître* has much more finesse: a pair of pliers, and one of their benches with manacles on the legs and arms. It *hurts* coming out, the long roots of the teeth clinging on for dear life. When Armand presents his hands, *Maître* lovingly rips off every fingernail. “Aww, baby. Nothing to defend yourself. Guess that means I do whatever I want with you.” Through the haze of red-tinged tears, he can see how Louis’ own fangs drip salvia. Manacled to the chair, Rashid whimpers, but not with fear.
August 18, 2025 at 10:55 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
aug 13 — boat/harbor, word count: 77

“We’ve been together 77 years, Daniel. Shall we let the math of that settle?”

TW RAPE REENACTMENT
Arun liked to play boat with his *Maître*. A set script to this game—a comforting equation with constance and simplicity. One boy, in the hold of the ship. Four cuffs, bound to ten chain-links apiece. Add one master, holding the lash. Multiply. Two legs, divided apart. No use counting the tears as he cried. Three-hundred-and-six thrusts into the boy’s body. When it was over, *Maître* could hold him. But Arun never understood why *Maître* also cried.
August 14, 2025 at 7:22 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
aug 12 — blooming/wilting, word count: 150

“A company that had been in existence for 150 years.”
The tree is a-hundred-and-fifty years old when Armand leaves it. He had chosen magnolia, when he was bequeathed the theatre and company from Lestat. A new life for the coven, this time under his own guiding hand, instead of the rules of Roman cult. A new life for Armand. *It’s your life now, Armand,* Lestat had spit, one foot out the doorframe, leaving Armand forever. *Your coven. You do what you want with it, and stop waiting for me to tell you.* And so, the tree. His first act, as a free Parisian. One-hundred-and fifty-years later—the theatre had moved and so has the tree—a testament to its endurance. He brings a cutting to Louis, when he splits from the coven. Carefully wraps the raw stem in wet towels, until the delicate, translucent roots begin to sprout. A new life for the tree. And a new life for Armand.
August 14, 2025 at 11:51 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
aug 11 — recognition/misunderstanding, word count: 101

“How many vampires? Not many, I’m afraid. Maybe 100. 101.”
Louis can barely endure to look at him, when Armand wakes him, as ordered. Lestat said…a hundred-or-so vampires? Hundred-and-one? Not a lot of vampires left, then. Less, since Louis just killed a whole coven of ‘em. Less, if he kills Lestat. Claudia’s dead, of course—Armand did nothing to stop it. *You’ll never make it up to me.* Armand makes a noise, a little hitch in his breath. Louis’s mouth twists. *I don’t wanna hear from you, you understand me?* Armand says nothing in response. Louis doesn’t spare him a glance, not caring to see the look on his face.
August 14, 2025 at 11:17 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
get ready for cutie star/moon metaphors

aug 10 — stars/moon, word count: 514

“What's a mediocre star to a 514 year old vampire?”
Louis shares the memory with Armand, one evening while they lay on their backs, looking up at the scattered brightness of the sky: how Louis’ father taught him the constellations, their names, and the stories they held. His bigger hand holding Louis’ little one, both their faces upturned towards the sky. Louis’ father is understood in disconcerting fragments to Armand—in one, the disciplinarian; in another, the man who hung the moon in the sky. Marius was the one who taught Armand the constellations. Held his hand in his own and helped him trace the shapes of the forty-eight constellations recorded by Ptolemy in his *Almagest*. Made him read the treatise, too, as he watched nearby, switch leaned against his chair. Astrologists report that the stars have shifted over time—and not just the stars, but also the earth—have shifted in space, incrementally changing the planet’s view over millennia. Armand cannot account that this is the case—too many centuries spent in the dazzling city of *Paris,* forbidden, then forgetting, to look up. Still, it is comforting to Armand, that, as children, he and Louis both looked up at the same stars. Armand mentions it to Louis one night, as they lie curled around each other in blood-soaked sheets. Within a week, Louis is leading Armand by the hand to their patio, to present him with a state-of-the-art telescope. “Just thought we might want to take a closer look,” he says with a grin. Armand has to kiss him—deeply, passionately, devotedly—the kind of kiss that means *you did good,* and *I adore you,* and *thank you for listening to me.* Then, Armand busies himself with the manual, eager to see the stars up close. Armand can’t remember any shift in the stars, but—*There’s so many of them.* “Yeah,” Louis says, with this tender little smile. Amadeo was taught that the sun spun around the earth. Now, Armand knows better—about the insignificance of the earth and the people on it, the sheer coincidence of their little lives. So random, and yet: there’s something almost divine about it—the miracle of it all. Armand studies the stars, now, taking home book after book, making himself familiar with all that he can see. Laying on their backs, Armand points to the brightest star in the sky, “That one,” he says, “is Sirius.” “The Dog Star?” Louis asks, moving to put their faces together, reaching to lay his hand on top of Armand’s. “Canis Major,” Armand agrees. “Twice the size of our sun. Well, the first is. It is actually two stars, binary stars, bound together in orbit.” Louis squeezes his hand. “Tell me more.” “It’s twenty-five times as luminous as the sun. The smaller star used to be the bigger of the two, before it burned through its outer layers and collapsed inward.” “But the stars survived,” Louis says, as he threads his fingers through Armand’s. “They took care of each other,” and he pulls their hands to kiss the meat of Armand’s palm. Flattered, humbled, Armand whispers, “I suppose they did.”
August 14, 2025 at 10:19 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
here’s my loumand microfic week:

aug 9 — modern/ancient, word count: 128

“128 boys he’s brought here. And you’re the first he didn’t consummate and drain.”
In their home in Sausalito, Armand sits on their lint-free sofa, arms crossed, in front of the blaring television. But Armand is not watching. Instead, Armand watches the technicolor vision in his head: of Louis with his mouth around another man’s dick. Armand will not begrudge participation in modern mortal sexual culture. After all, *Armand* is the one Louis came home to. When Louis came home at all. It’s nearly morning. Louis is so… young. He’ll feel the pull of the sun soon. He’ll have to find a place to rest, in the arms of one of his *boys.* Not that it matters to Armand. Armand, whose ancient power is not swayed by the light of some petty star. Armand, who will stay up the whole night, waiting.
August 14, 2025 at 9:35 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
also check out this cool ass dog
August 13, 2025 at 1:10 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
I was reading a book on venetian renaissance sex crimes and while writing this fic (the execution referenced was a real case) and I have to share this part of the book. sorry warning for... extremely funnily-worded flashing... MOST EVILLY...
In 1474 a noble, Andrea Coppo, was accused "of agitating his viril member most evilly in the presence of Marino"
August 4, 2025 at 4:27 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
I finally wrote an actual sequel to the Riccardo one. apologies in advance.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/68652256
Screenshot of Ao3 page linked.
August 4, 2025 at 2:07 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
I love getting comments from my friend Irene 😭
screenshot of ao3 inbox. IreneVitale on like a dog with a bone: "Joanie, the sex is *really* not my cup of tea, but" [rest of comment cut off]
August 3, 2025 at 2:54 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
online search for: IS THERE ANY WAY TO SUCCEED THE DISCOS ELYSIUM SUGGESTION CHECK TO HIT ON KLASSFJE
August 2, 2025 at 3:33 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
1. Allons-y, let's go! 2. I want to get off now, I like pain and burning light and wanting things from people who don't want to give them to me.
August 2, 2025 at 3:18 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
more of that series where Loumandstat live together in domestic bdsm bliss. now with conflict and even more punishment!

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/67391733
Screenshot of the AO3 page linked.
July 14, 2025 at 2:59 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
when I was reposting my fics I discovered I posted these two on the same day. can someone explain because I don't remember this happening and ACTUALLY I remember agonizing over one scene of metronomic for a solid 48 hours. I must have re-written it 4 times at least
Screencap of two fics by 8thDigit, both posted on "28 Nov 2024"
July 9, 2025 at 2:49 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
YOOOOOOOOOOOU
cat getting grabbed and pushed onto the floor with eyes wide in alarm
July 1, 2025 at 1:14 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
here's the tag cloud so far. if you're interested.

I literally cannot alt text this image, there's just too much. so here's the link for screen-readers archiveofourown.org/collections/...
June 28, 2025 at 10:33 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
evil marimand wing-cutting based on @bloodripelives.federatedfandom.net.ap.brid.gy’s wingfic
🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/66564913
June 22, 2025 at 12:15 AM
8thdigit.bsky.social
evil ankles one from February. avert your eyes for marimand

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/63404536
June 21, 2025 at 11:56 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
anyway salt over. happy monday, here’s your lizard check-in for this week
Picture of a lizard nestled on someone’s shoulder, with one claw around the person’s necklace.
June 16, 2025 at 1:37 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
this has been making the rounds on horny tumblr. as if it is not just a screengrab from the opening of disco elysium
2. - I want to get off now, I like pain and burning light and wanting things from people who don’t want to give them to me.
June 5, 2025 at 1:48 PM
8thdigit.bsky.social
Two frames from Pop Team Epic manga, both with Popuko standing over a cuckoo clock with hammer poised to strike. In the first frame, she says “Your motherfucking life ends…” with the rest of her speech bubble edited to show the countdown for the Sufjan Steven’s album release for “Carrie & Lowell (10th Anniversary Edition)” in 10 days, 13 hours, 58 minutes, and 39 seconds (Releases on May 30, 2025). In the second frame of the comic, Popuko stands over the clock with the hammer, waiting.
May 19, 2025 at 2:12 PM