steviebunny

[steviebunny]

House would have figured out what’s wrong with Will Graham after nearly killing him and would have been like oh yeah also your therapist has been feeding you poison chicken soup that’s why you’re getting worse, probably should check his freezer too the guys not subtle with the cannibalism. But it’s easy to miss all this when you’re getting bent over the therapy chair instead of sitting in it.

[steviebunny]

Lestat in PRINCE LESTAT AND THE REALMS OF ATLANTIS

[steviebunny]

if i had a nickel for every time sam reid played a blond bisexual who had a mental breakdown in front of the camera while wearing messed up makeup, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice

[steviebunny]

Interview with the Vampire ‣ 1.03 The Newsreader ‣ 3.03

[steviebunny]

But what if Steve was the massive slut and Tony was the one who hadn’t touched another human being in over three years. What then.

[steviebunny]

I just read that Donald Trump and his circus took down a website called reproductiverights.gov

This was a website to help women learn about their reproductive rights in the US and to find health care.

This is absolutely disgusting so I’ll share in this post some resources in case you need them:

https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn

[steviebunny]

Okay, so

Was anyone reminded of Louis's brother when he stepped into the sunlight? His brother stepped off the roof so casually, and Louis did the same when he walked onto the roof to expose himself to the sunlight

This is kinda a stretch but before he walks to the roof when he says that Claudia's calling for him, that reminded me of his brother too

Because his brother heard birds that spread the word of god

And Claudia played Baby Lou, who was so in love with birds that she wanted to jump out the window to fly with them

So when he hears Claudia calling for him, in a way he's hearing birds just like his brother

[steviebunny]

[steviebunny]

4. The Contortionist

Paris: T’eatre de Vampir

The Théâtre de Vampires was alive with its typical chaotic nature, the air buzzing with anticipation as the audience filled their seats. Mentions of tonight’s performance had spread through the city, laced with rumors of a new addition to Armand’s band of merry men. The promise of something…someone…unseen, something new to be even more attention-grabbing then “My baby likes windows” before had drawn the city’s curious and the depraved.

The stage was dressed in its usual motif: black velvet, candelabras dripping with crimson wax, props artfully arranged, and a projection screen prepared to drop. Yet tonight, something new stood center stage- a series of three hand-carved poles, with square tops increasing in height and distance but the bases were only wide enough for a single foot, not even. 

Armand stood in the wings, his sharp gaze fixed on the Rusalka as she prepared. She was clad in a dark fabric that clung to her form, with gems that catch the light at each turn. Her hair was braided in a crown around her neck with a matching ribbon woven through. He paused, then leaned closer. “If you falter-” 

“I won’t.” Her words cut like a knife through his doubt.

The crowd fell silent as the spotlight illuminated the screen, casting its white face into forefront. Then a shadow moved behind it- her own. The Rusalka stepped into place, the outline of her body elongated and eerie, an unnatural curvrture to her limbs and joints.

The music began, a low, and slow melody that crept beneath the audience. As she moved, her shadow stepped out from behind the screen then bending and twisting ionto the first set of canes in a pseudo-handstand. Her arms elongated, her spine curved backward and her legs folded over her head in fluid, hypnotic motions before moving to the next set of canes. 

The projector came to life, casting images behind her water ripples, blooming flowers and an animation of a young woman with a braided crown of hair collecting water blossoms. The film began to show a young man, creeping behind the woman- as she turned in shock the Rusalka dropped. The music rose ominously, her body turning limp, a planned fall before impossibly catching herself, synchronised gasps left the audience. 

As the rhythm of the piano righted itself so did she, the video want on the young man a farmer, set to marry the girl for as the drawing turned it showed just barely was her belly swollen with child. Moving to the next set of canes, even higher above the stage to any typical person a fall from this height would surely result in a broken clavicle at the very least. Each twist and fold of her body seemed to tell a story of peace and despair. The boy reaced behing himself as he grabbed the young woman’s hand, her eyes filled with fear as it was brought up to his lips. And suddenly. The music rises and the river roars behind the pair- the lights sway and the man reaches behind himself grabbing a pitchfork, it takes all but a second for it to be speared into her stomach. 

The lights and projector go dark- the theater is silent. 

As the projection slowly starts again it illuminates the rusalka once more, in the darkness she made it to the last set of canes she and the animated woman now both face the audience. The young girl steps back a look of anguish as she falls back…and into the roaring river. As the last of her is taken under so is the Rusalka falling down into the stage. The audience screams! The Rusalka is gone into a hidden entryway in the stage floor, the last of the show is the dwindling projection showing the river run from rageful to a lull of tides. The man throws the pitch fork into the river and runs. THE END.

A series of applause breaks out, from his seat in the front row, Santiago smirks, “She has a flair for drama,” he murmured to Louis, who sat stiff and silent beside him. Louis’s expression remained stoic, but his gaze never left the stage. In the shadows of the wings, Claudia watched with fascination. Her small hands gripped the edge of the curtain, her knuckles wrapped around the fabric with tension. 

—-

Her show the second to last of the night was a triumph, after the vampires ‘dinner’. Santiago claps a hand on Armands forearm “Well” Santiago drawled, breaking the tension, “she certainly knows how to put on a show.”

Claudia with her eyes turned down to the floor says, “She’s more than a performer,” she said softly. “She’s a mystery.”

“And mysteries,” Armand said, his voice low, “are dangerous things.”

The Rusalka tilted her head, a sarcastic quirk of her her lips. “Then you should tread carefully. I might decide this stage isn’t big enough for all of us… If that’s everything I’ll be returning home for the evening I have class in the morning while you all laze about.” She winked at Claudia before offering a two-finger salute to the rest of the coven and waltzing her way out of the theater. 

—

The Rusalka moved through the darkened streets of Paris fluidily, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestones. Applause still echoed faintly in her ears, though it had long since faded behind her. Paris at night was a labyrinth of whispers and flickering lamplight, and she navigated it with ease, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her performance.

From alleys behind, Louis and Armand followed her in silence, their figures barely discernible against the dark of night.

“She is fascinating,” Louis murmured, his voice a soft note in the stillness.

“Fascinating doesn’t mean trustworthy,” Armand replied, his gaze fixed on the Rusalka below.

Their conversation halted as she turned a corner, her stride purposeful. The faint sound of a scuffle reached their ears, followed by a muffled cry.

Louis and Armand exchanged a deep glance before following.

As they approached the narrow alley, they saw her. A man loomed over a woman pinned against the wall, his hand clasped tightly over her mouth. The woman’s wide, tear-filled eyes met the Rusalka’s, silently pleading.

“Unhand her,” the Rusalka said, her voice a low.

The man turned, snorting. “Mind ‘our own busi’ness, whore—”

Before he finished, she was pinning him. Her movements were a blur—predatory. In one swift motion, she tore him away from the woman sending him to the ground.

“Run,” she said to the woman, who hesitated for a moment before fleeing into the night.

The man stumbled his way back up, but she was faster. She grabbed him by the throat, her grip unforgiving. His protests turned to gurgles as she bared her teeth, her features twisting into a feral thing.

Louis and Armand arrived just as she sank her maw into the man’s jugular, draining him until his struggles ceased.

When she finished, she dropped his body to the ground a chunk ripped from his neck with a sneer. Her chest heaving as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You could have intervened sooner,” she said, her voice flat.

“You seem to have it under control,” Armand replied coolly.

She bent, grabbing the dead-man and dragging him toward the shadows. “It’s rude to linger,” she said.

Louis’s voice was soft. “Why did you save her?”

The Rusalka paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Because no one saved me,” she said simply.

Armand raised an eyebrow. “And the performance? Personal, yes?”

She stopped entirely, her expression darkening. “It wasn’t a performance. It was my life.”

Louis and Armand exchanged a glance, the weight of her words settling heavily between them.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her gaze distant. “I was nineteen,” she began. “A circus girl in a tiny village. My neighbor—his name was Artem—was older. Stronger. One night, he followed me back home. I didn’t see him until it was too late.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “When it was over, he told me no one would believe me. And he was right. When I had no choice but to tell the elders, they planned to make us marry.”

Her laughter was bitter. “He didn’t want me, though. Not really. He wanted the fun. And when he found out I was pregnant…” She trailed off, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach.

“He killed you,” Louis said softly.

She nodded. “He tried. Stabbed me. Left me bleeding by the river. I thought it was the end. I hoped it was. But hours later, I woke up. Cold. Alone. And…” Her voice broke. “I knew…there was no way- the child...”

She met their eyes, burning with rage, “I don’t know how I survived, how I became this, but I did. And I found Artem. I made him pay.” And he was delicious. Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said finally, her tone sharp. “You won’t get it,” Armand replied, though his voice was softer than usual.

Louis stepped closer, his expression gentle. “What you endured is unimaginable. But you don’t have to live it alone.”

She scoffed. “I’ve done fine on my own.”

Even so,” Armand said, his eyes dark and unreadable, “you’re welcome to come it with us.”

Her gaze flicked between them, wary. “Why, I’ve made my feelings on the coven dynamic clear?”

“It’s not just the coven,” Louis said simply, “It’s us. Wouldn’t it be nice to not spend the rest of your days running, looking over your shoulder?” 

For a moment, she said nothing. Then shifted to walk parallel to the two vampires.

As they walked together into the night, the tension between them eased, just slightly. The Rusalka glanced at Louis, her expression softening. “You really don’t have to be so earnest, you know.”

“And you don’t have to be so guarded,” he replied.

She smiled faintly. “Hypocrite.”

Behind them, Armand watched in silence, his mind already calculating the implications of her story—and her presence among them.

***

Dubai: Modern Day

The sprawling penthouse was silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass. Daniel leaned forward in his seat, the recorder on his laptop.

Across from him, the Rusalka sat cross-legged on the leather couch, her posture regal, her face shrouded in a calm that felt unnatural. As her body rested comfortable against the skin of the vampires. One at each of her sides, the dim light softened the sharp edges of her features, but her eyes—those unsettling, liquid like eyes—seemed to pierce right through him.

“I know you didn’t come all this way for pleasantries,” she said, finally breaking the silence. 

Daniel cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t. I want to know more—about your time in Paris, with them. About...what you are to Louis, what all this means.”

“Paris,” she began, her tone flat, “was a game of survival, every moment, every word, every gesture—it was all part of a farce. One wrong step, and every university would shut their doors to me, I’d have no reason to stay in the city at all then. The entire petense for me making ‘nice’ with the coven.” Daniel nodded, his pen scratching across the legal pad in his lap. “And with them? With Louis and Armand… Claudia?”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “With them...things felt different. Arrogant and self-centered, yes, but also something more. They were broken things, trying to piece themselves together. Armand’s need for control just barely masking his desperation to relinquish it, Louis with his redemption, the guilt,  and Claudia...Claudia was just trying to find her place in a world that seemed to have no place for her.”

“And you wanted to give her one?” He supplied.

“I wanted her to be given the choice- she deserved the opportunity to make her own path. Unfortunately future events came to…well we will get to that point in the story later won’t we? Louis tells it the best and after all you’re here for him.” 

“So then whats the point of you and “Rashid” having been here at all.”

“Daniel I’m surprised in your line of work and having never heard of fact checkers?” Louis prevents another remark by clearing his throat, he crosses a leg over another and reaches a hand to grab one of her’s, “My mind is a tangled web- having them here allows me to recount events from more than a single perspective which should help you find the most objective truth within this all. Shall we continue the interview now that that’s settled?”

[steviebunny]

guys, barely anyone is talking about jacob anderson's teeny weeny waist!!! people talk about sam's because that shoulder to waist ratio is WILD but GET A LOAD OF THIS GUY!

he's absolutely iddy biddy, don't fucking forget.

[steviebunny]

"All of those things are true."

[steviebunny]

crustacean menstruation station , send post

[steviebunny]

Loustat I missed you so much…..

For this year I created so many interview with the vampire arts! And all of them + full versions + exclusive extras are collected on my patreon! I’ve tried so hard, so if you like my art please consider to follow me there!

[steviebunny]

In the third grade I once had a teacher that told me it was impossible for us to hurt ourselves with the safety scissors she gave out... So of course I had to prove her wrong, and I now have a little hexagon-shaped scar on my left hand. I don't regret it. It was stupid, but I don't regret it.

.do you have any scars on your hands/fingers?

[steviebunny]

4. The Contortionist

Paris: T’eatre de Vampir

The Théâtre de Vampires was alive with its typical chaotic nature, the air buzzing with anticipation as the audience filled their seats. Mentions of tonight’s performance had spread through the city, laced with rumors of a new addition to Armand’s band of merry men. The promise of something…someone…unseen, something new to be even more attention-grabbing then “My baby likes windows” before had drawn the city’s curious and the depraved.

The stage was dressed in its usual motif: black velvet, candelabras dripping with crimson wax, props artfully arranged, and a projection screen prepared to drop. Yet tonight, something new stood center stage- a series of three hand-carved poles, with square tops increasing in height and distance but the bases were only wide enough for a single foot, not even. 

Armand stood in the wings, his sharp gaze fixed on the Rusalka as she prepared. She was clad in a dark fabric that clung to her form, with gems that catch the light at each turn. Her hair was braided in a crown around her neck with a matching ribbon woven through. He paused, then leaned closer. “If you falter-” 

“I won’t.” Her words cut like a knife through his doubt.

The crowd fell silent as the spotlight illuminated the screen, casting its white face into forefront. Then a shadow moved behind it- her own. The Rusalka stepped into place, the outline of her body elongated and eerie, an unnatural curvrture to her limbs and joints.

The music began, a low, and slow melody that crept beneath the audience. As she moved, her shadow stepped out from behind the screen then bending and twisting ionto the first set of canes in a pseudo-handstand. Her arms elongated, her spine curved backward and her legs folded over her head in fluid, hypnotic motions before moving to the next set of canes. 

The projector came to life, casting images behind her water ripples, blooming flowers and an animation of a young woman with a braided crown of hair collecting water blossoms. The film began to show a young man, creeping behind the woman- as she turned in shock the Rusalka dropped. The music rose ominously, her body turning limp, a planned fall before impossibly catching herself, synchronised gasps left the audience. 

As the rhythm of the piano righted itself so did she, the video want on the young man a farmer, set to marry the girl for as the drawing turned it showed just barely was her belly swollen with child. Moving to the next set of canes, even higher above the stage to any typical person a fall from this height would surely result in a broken clavicle at the very least. Each twist and fold of her body seemed to tell a story of peace and despair. The boy reaced behing himself as he grabbed the young woman’s hand, her eyes filled with fear as it was brought up to his lips. And suddenly. The music rises and the river roars behind the pair- the lights sway and the man reaches behind himself grabbing a pitchfork, it takes all but a second for it to be speared into her stomach. 

The lights and projector go dark- the theater is silent. 

As the projection slowly starts again it illuminates the rusalka once more, in the darkness she made it to the last set of canes she and the animated woman now both face the audience. The young girl steps back a look of anguish as she falls back…and into the roaring river. As the last of her is taken under so is the Rusalka falling down into the stage. The audience screams! The Rusalka is gone into a hidden entryway in the stage floor, the last of the show is the dwindling projection showing the river run from rageful to a lull of tides. The man throws the pitch fork into the river and runs. THE END.

A series of applause breaks out, from his seat in the front row, Santiago smirks, “She has a flair for drama,” he murmured to Louis, who sat stiff and silent beside him. Louis’s expression remained stoic, but his gaze never left the stage. In the shadows of the wings, Claudia watched with fascination. Her small hands gripped the edge of the curtain, her knuckles wrapped around the fabric with tension. 

—-

Her show the second to last of the night was a triumph, after the vampires ‘dinner’. Santiago claps a hand on Armands forearm “Well” Santiago drawled, breaking the tension, “she certainly knows how to put on a show.”

Claudia with her eyes turned down to the floor says, “She’s more than a performer,” she said softly. “She’s a mystery.”

“And mysteries,” Armand said, his voice low, “are dangerous things.”

The Rusalka tilted her head, a sarcastic quirk of her her lips. “Then you should tread carefully. I might decide this stage isn’t big enough for all of us… If that’s everything I’ll be returning home for the evening I have class in the morning while you all laze about.” She winked at Claudia before offering a two-finger salute to the rest of the coven and waltzing her way out of the theater. 

—

The Rusalka moved through the darkened streets of Paris fluidily, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestones. Applause still echoed faintly in her ears, though it had long since faded behind her. Paris at night was a labyrinth of whispers and flickering lamplight, and she navigated it with ease, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her performance.

From alleys behind, Louis and Armand followed her in silence, their figures barely discernible against the dark of night.

“She is fascinating,” Louis murmured, his voice a soft note in the stillness.

“Fascinating doesn’t mean trustworthy,” Armand replied, his gaze fixed on the Rusalka below.

Their conversation halted as she turned a corner, her stride purposeful. The faint sound of a scuffle reached their ears, followed by a muffled cry.

Louis and Armand exchanged a deep glance before following.

As they approached the narrow alley, they saw her. A man loomed over a woman pinned against the wall, his hand clasped tightly over her mouth. The woman’s wide, tear-filled eyes met the Rusalka’s, silently pleading.

“Unhand her,” the Rusalka said, her voice a low.

The man turned, snorting. “Mind ‘our own busi’ness, whore—”

Before he finished, she was pinning him. Her movements were a blur—predatory. In one swift motion, she tore him away from the woman sending him to the ground.

“Run,” she said to the woman, who hesitated for a moment before fleeing into the night.

The man stumbled his way back up, but she was faster. She grabbed him by the throat, her grip unforgiving. His protests turned to gurgles as she bared her teeth, her features twisting into a feral thing.

Louis and Armand arrived just as she sank her maw into the man’s jugular, draining him until his struggles ceased.

When she finished, she dropped his body to the ground a chunk ripped from his neck with a sneer. Her chest heaving as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You could have intervened sooner,” she said, her voice flat.

“You seem to have it under control,” Armand replied coolly.

She bent, grabbing the dead-man and dragging him toward the shadows. “It’s rude to linger,” she said.

Louis’s voice was soft. “Why did you save her?”

The Rusalka paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Because no one saved me,” she said simply.

Armand raised an eyebrow. “And the performance? Personal, yes?”

She stopped entirely, her expression darkening. “It wasn’t a performance. It was my life.”

Louis and Armand exchanged a glance, the weight of her words settling heavily between them.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her gaze distant. “I was nineteen,” she began. “A circus girl in a tiny village. My neighbor—his name was Artem—was older. Stronger. One night, he followed me back home. I didn’t see him until it was too late.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “When it was over, he told me no one would believe me. And he was right. When I had no choice but to tell the elders, they planned to make us marry.”

Her laughter was bitter. “He didn’t want me, though. Not really. He wanted the fun. And when he found out I was pregnant…” She trailed off, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach.

“He killed you,” Louis said softly.

She nodded. “He tried. Stabbed me. Left me bleeding by the river. I thought it was the end. I hoped it was. But hours later, I woke up. Cold. Alone. And…” Her voice broke. “I knew…there was no way- the child...”

She met their eyes, burning with rage, “I don’t know how I survived, how I became this, but I did. And I found Artem. I made him pay.” And he was delicious. Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said finally, her tone sharp. “You won’t get it,” Armand replied, though his voice was softer than usual.

Louis stepped closer, his expression gentle. “What you endured is unimaginable. But you don’t have to live it alone.”

She scoffed. “I’ve done fine on my own.”

Even so,” Armand said, his eyes dark and unreadable, “you’re welcome to come it with us.”

Her gaze flicked between them, wary. “Why, I’ve made my feelings on the coven dynamic clear?”

“It’s not just the coven,” Louis said simply, “It’s us. Wouldn’t it be nice to not spend the rest of your days running, looking over your shoulder?” 

For a moment, she said nothing. Then shifted to walk parallel to the two vampires.

As they walked together into the night, the tension between them eased, just slightly. The Rusalka glanced at Louis, her expression softening. “You really don’t have to be so earnest, you know.”

“And you don’t have to be so guarded,” he replied.

She smiled faintly. “Hypocrite.”

Behind them, Armand watched in silence, his mind already calculating the implications of her story—and her presence among them.

***

Dubai: Modern Day

The sprawling penthouse was silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass. Daniel leaned forward in his seat, the recorder on his laptop.

Across from him, the Rusalka sat cross-legged on the leather couch, her posture regal, her face shrouded in a calm that felt unnatural. As her body rested comfortable against the skin of the vampires. One at each of her sides, the dim light softened the sharp edges of her features, but her eyes—those unsettling, liquid like eyes—seemed to pierce right through him.

“I know you didn’t come all this way for pleasantries,” she said, finally breaking the silence. 

Daniel cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t. I want to know more—about your time in Paris, with them. About...what you are to Louis, what all this means.”

“Paris,” she began, her tone flat, “was a game of survival, every moment, every word, every gesture—it was all part of a farce. One wrong step, and every university would shut their doors to me, I’d have no reason to stay in the city at all then. The entire petense for me making ‘nice’ with the coven.” Daniel nodded, his pen scratching across the legal pad in his lap. “And with them? With Louis and Armand… Claudia?”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “With them...things felt different. Arrogant and self-centered, yes, but also something more. They were broken things, trying to piece themselves together. Armand’s need for control just barely masking his desperation to relinquish it, Louis with his redemption, the guilt,  and Claudia...Claudia was just trying to find her place in a world that seemed to have no place for her.”

“And you wanted to give her one?” He supplied.

“I wanted her to be given the choice- she deserved the opportunity to make her own path. Unfortunately future events came to…well we will get to that point in the story later won’t we? Louis tells it the best and after all you’re here for him.” 

“So then whats the point of you and “Rashid” having been here at all.”

“Daniel I’m surprised in your line of work and having never heard of fact checkers?” Louis prevents another remark by clearing his throat, he crosses a leg over another and reaches a hand to grab one of her’s, “My mind is a tangled web- having them here allows me to recount events from more than a single perspective which should help you find the most objective truth within this all. Shall we continue the interview now that that’s settled?”

[steviebunny]

4. The Contortionist

Paris: T’eatre de Vampir

The Théâtre de Vampires was alive with its typical chaotic nature, the air buzzing with anticipation as the audience filled their seats. Mentions of tonight’s performance had spread through the city, laced with rumors of a new addition to Armand’s band of merry men. The promise of something…someone…unseen, something new to be even more attention-grabbing then “My baby likes windows” before had drawn the city’s curious and the depraved.

The stage was dressed in its usual motif: black velvet, candelabras dripping with crimson wax, props artfully arranged, and a projection screen prepared to drop. Yet tonight, something new stood center stage- a series of three hand-carved poles, with square tops increasing in height and distance but the bases were only wide enough for a single foot, not even. 

Armand stood in the wings, his sharp gaze fixed on the Rusalka as she prepared. She was clad in a dark fabric that clung to her form, with gems that catch the light at each turn. Her hair was braided in a crown around her neck with a matching ribbon woven through. He paused, then leaned closer. “If you falter-” 

“I won’t.” Her words cut like a knife through his doubt.

The crowd fell silent as the spotlight illuminated the screen, casting its white face into forefront. Then a shadow moved behind it- her own. The Rusalka stepped into place, the outline of her body elongated and eerie, an unnatural curvrture to her limbs and joints.

The music began, a low, and slow melody that crept beneath the audience. As she moved, her shadow stepped out from behind the screen then bending and twisting ionto the first set of canes in a pseudo-handstand. Her arms elongated, her spine curved backward and her legs folded over her head in fluid, hypnotic motions before moving to the next set of canes. 

The projector came to life, casting images behind her water ripples, blooming flowers and an animation of a young woman with a braided crown of hair collecting water blossoms. The film began to show a young man, creeping behind the woman- as she turned in shock the Rusalka dropped. The music rose ominously, her body turning limp, a planned fall before impossibly catching herself, synchronised gasps left the audience. 

As the rhythm of the piano righted itself so did she, the video want on the young man a farmer, set to marry the girl for as the drawing turned it showed just barely was her belly swollen with child. Moving to the next set of canes, even higher above the stage to any typical person a fall from this height would surely result in a broken clavicle at the very least. Each twist and fold of her body seemed to tell a story of peace and despair. The boy reaced behing himself as he grabbed the young woman’s hand, her eyes filled with fear as it was brought up to his lips. And suddenly. The music rises and the river roars behind the pair- the lights sway and the man reaches behind himself grabbing a pitchfork, it takes all but a second for it to be speared into her stomach. 

The lights and projector go dark- the theater is silent. 

As the projection slowly starts again it illuminates the rusalka once more, in the darkness she made it to the last set of canes she and the animated woman now both face the audience. The young girl steps back a look of anguish as she falls back…and into the roaring river. As the last of her is taken under so is the Rusalka falling down into the stage. The audience screams! The Rusalka is gone into a hidden entryway in the stage floor, the last of the show is the dwindling projection showing the river run from rageful to a lull of tides. The man throws the pitch fork into the river and runs. THE END.

A series of applause breaks out, from his seat in the front row, Santiago smirks, “She has a flair for drama,” he murmured to Louis, who sat stiff and silent beside him. Louis’s expression remained stoic, but his gaze never left the stage. In the shadows of the wings, Claudia watched with fascination. Her small hands gripped the edge of the curtain, her knuckles wrapped around the fabric with tension. 

—-

Her show the second to last of the night was a triumph, after the vampires ‘dinner’. Santiago claps a hand on Armands forearm “Well” Santiago drawled, breaking the tension, “she certainly knows how to put on a show.”

Claudia with her eyes turned down to the floor says, “She’s more than a performer,” she said softly. “She’s a mystery.”

“And mysteries,” Armand said, his voice low, “are dangerous things.”

The Rusalka tilted her head, a sarcastic quirk of her her lips. “Then you should tread carefully. I might decide this stage isn’t big enough for all of us… If that’s everything I’ll be returning home for the evening I have class in the morning while you all laze about.” She winked at Claudia before offering a two-finger salute to the rest of the coven and waltzing her way out of the theater. 

—

The Rusalka moved through the darkened streets of Paris fluidily, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestones. Applause still echoed faintly in her ears, though it had long since faded behind her. Paris at night was a labyrinth of whispers and flickering lamplight, and she navigated it with ease, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her performance.

From alleys behind, Louis and Armand followed her in silence, their figures barely discernible against the dark of night.

“She is fascinating,” Louis murmured, his voice a soft note in the stillness.

“Fascinating doesn’t mean trustworthy,” Armand replied, his gaze fixed on the Rusalka below.

Their conversation halted as she turned a corner, her stride purposeful. The faint sound of a scuffle reached their ears, followed by a muffled cry.

Louis and Armand exchanged a deep glance before following.

As they approached the narrow alley, they saw her. A man loomed over a woman pinned against the wall, his hand clasped tightly over her mouth. The woman’s wide, tear-filled eyes met the Rusalka’s, silently pleading.

“Unhand her,” the Rusalka said, her voice a low.

The man turned, snorting. “Mind ‘our own busi’ness, whore—”

Before he finished, she was pinning him. Her movements were a blur—predatory. In one swift motion, she tore him away from the woman sending him to the ground.

“Run,” she said to the woman, who hesitated for a moment before fleeing into the night.

The man stumbled his way back up, but she was faster. She grabbed him by the throat, her grip unforgiving. His protests turned to gurgles as she bared her teeth, her features twisting into a feral thing.

Louis and Armand arrived just as she sank her maw into the man’s jugular, draining him until his struggles ceased.

When she finished, she dropped his body to the ground a chunk ripped from his neck with a sneer. Her chest heaving as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You could have intervened sooner,” she said, her voice flat.

“You seem to have it under control,” Armand replied coolly.

She bent, grabbing the dead-man and dragging him toward the shadows. “It’s rude to linger,” she said.

Louis’s voice was soft. “Why did you save her?”

The Rusalka paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Because no one saved me,” she said simply.

Armand raised an eyebrow. “And the performance? Personal, yes?”

She stopped entirely, her expression darkening. “It wasn’t a performance. It was my life.”

Louis and Armand exchanged a glance, the weight of her words settling heavily between them.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her gaze distant. “I was nineteen,” she began. “A circus girl in a tiny village. My neighbor—his name was Artem—was older. Stronger. One night, he followed me back home. I didn’t see him until it was too late.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “When it was over, he told me no one would believe me. And he was right. When I had no choice but to tell the elders, they planned to make us marry.”

Her laughter was bitter. “He didn’t want me, though. Not really. He wanted the fun. And when he found out I was pregnant…” She trailed off, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach.

“He killed you,” Louis said softly.

She nodded. “He tried. Stabbed me. Left me bleeding by the river. I thought it was the end. I hoped it was. But hours later, I woke up. Cold. Alone. And…” Her voice broke. “I knew…there was no way- the child...”

She met their eyes, burning with rage, “I don’t know how I survived, how I became this, but I did. And I found Artem. I made him pay.” And he was delicious. Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said finally, her tone sharp. “You won’t get it,” Armand replied, though his voice was softer than usual.

Louis stepped closer, his expression gentle. “What you endured is unimaginable. But you don’t have to live it alone.”

She scoffed. “I’ve done fine on my own.”

Even so,” Armand said, his eyes dark and unreadable, “you’re welcome to come it with us.”

Her gaze flicked between them, wary. “Why, I’ve made my feelings on the coven dynamic clear?”

“It’s not just the coven,” Louis said simply, “It’s us. Wouldn’t it be nice to not spend the rest of your days running, looking over your shoulder?” 

For a moment, she said nothing. Then shifted to walk parallel to the two vampires.

As they walked together into the night, the tension between them eased, just slightly. The Rusalka glanced at Louis, her expression softening. “You really don’t have to be so earnest, you know.”

“And you don’t have to be so guarded,” he replied.

She smiled faintly. “Hypocrite.”

Behind them, Armand watched in silence, his mind already calculating the implications of her story—and her presence among them.

***

Dubai: Modern Day

The sprawling penthouse was silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass. Daniel leaned forward in his seat, the recorder on his laptop.

Across from him, the Rusalka sat cross-legged on the leather couch, her posture regal, her face shrouded in a calm that felt unnatural. As her body rested comfortable against the skin of the vampires. One at each of her sides, the dim light softened the sharp edges of her features, but her eyes—those unsettling, liquid like eyes—seemed to pierce right through him.

“I know you didn’t come all this way for pleasantries,” she said, finally breaking the silence. 

Daniel cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t. I want to know more—about your time in Paris, with them. About...what you are to Louis, what all this means.”

“Paris,” she began, her tone flat, “was a game of survival, every moment, every word, every gesture—it was all part of a farce. One wrong step, and every university would shut their doors to me, I’d have no reason to stay in the city at all then. The entire petense for me making ‘nice’ with the coven.” Daniel nodded, his pen scratching across the legal pad in his lap. “And with them? With Louis and Armand… Claudia?”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “With them...things felt different. Arrogant and self-centered, yes, but also something more. They were broken things, trying to piece themselves together. Armand’s need for control just barely masking his desperation to relinquish it, Louis with his redemption, the guilt,  and Claudia...Claudia was just trying to find her place in a world that seemed to have no place for her.”

“And you wanted to give her one?” He supplied.

“I wanted her to be given the choice- she deserved the opportunity to make her own path. Unfortunately future events came to…well we will get to that point in the story later won’t we? Louis tells it the best and after all you’re here for him.” 

“So then whats the point of you and “Rashid” having been here at all.”

“Daniel I’m surprised in your line of work and having never heard of fact checkers?” Louis prevents another remark by clearing his throat, he crosses a leg over another and reaches a hand to grab one of her’s, “My mind is a tangled web- having them here allows me to recount events from more than a single perspective which should help you find the most objective truth within this all. Shall we continue the interview now that that’s settled?”

[steviebunny]

4. The Contortionist

Paris: T’eatre de Vampir

The Théâtre de Vampires was alive with its typical chaotic nature, the air buzzing with anticipation as the audience filled their seats. Mentions of tonight’s performance had spread through the city, laced with rumors of a new addition to Armand’s band of merry men. The promise of something…someone…unseen, something new to be even more attention-grabbing then “My baby likes windows” before had drawn the city’s curious and the depraved.

The stage was dressed in its usual motif: black velvet, candelabras dripping with crimson wax, props artfully arranged, and a projection screen prepared to drop. Yet tonight, something new stood center stage- a series of three hand-carved poles, with square tops increasing in height and distance but the bases were only wide enough for a single foot, not even. 

Armand stood in the wings, his sharp gaze fixed on the Rusalka as she prepared. She was clad in a dark fabric that clung to her form, with gems that catch the light at each turn. Her hair was braided in a crown around her neck with a matching ribbon woven through. He paused, then leaned closer. “If you falter-” 

“I won’t.” Her words cut like a knife through his doubt.

The crowd fell silent as the spotlight illuminated the screen, casting its white face into forefront. Then a shadow moved behind it- her own. The Rusalka stepped into place, the outline of her body elongated and eerie, an unnatural curvrture to her limbs and joints.

The music began, a low, and slow melody that crept beneath the audience. As she moved, her shadow stepped out from behind the screen then bending and twisting ionto the first set of canes in a pseudo-handstand. Her arms elongated, her spine curved backward and her legs folded over her head in fluid, hypnotic motions before moving to the next set of canes. 

The projector came to life, casting images behind her water ripples, blooming flowers and an animation of a young woman with a braided crown of hair collecting water blossoms. The film began to show a young man, creeping behind the woman- as she turned in shock the Rusalka dropped. The music rose ominously, her body turning limp, a planned fall before impossibly catching herself, synchronised gasps left the audience. 

As the rhythm of the piano righted itself so did she, the video want on the young man a farmer, set to marry the girl for as the drawing turned it showed just barely was her belly swollen with child. Moving to the next set of canes, even higher above the stage to any typical person a fall from this height would surely result in a broken clavicle at the very least. Each twist and fold of her body seemed to tell a story of peace and despair. The boy reaced behing himself as he grabbed the young woman’s hand, her eyes filled with fear as it was brought up to his lips. And suddenly. The music rises and the river roars behind the pair- the lights sway and the man reaches behind himself grabbing a pitchfork, it takes all but a second for it to be speared into her stomach. 

The lights and projector go dark- the theater is silent. 

As the projection slowly starts again it illuminates the rusalka once more, in the darkness she made it to the last set of canes she and the animated woman now both face the audience. The young girl steps back a look of anguish as she falls back…and into the roaring river. As the last of her is taken under so is the Rusalka falling down into the stage. The audience screams! The Rusalka is gone into a hidden entryway in the stage floor, the last of the show is the dwindling projection showing the river run from rageful to a lull of tides. The man throws the pitch fork into the river and runs. THE END.

A series of applause breaks out, from his seat in the front row, Santiago smirks, “She has a flair for drama,” he murmured to Louis, who sat stiff and silent beside him. Louis’s expression remained stoic, but his gaze never left the stage. In the shadows of the wings, Claudia watched with fascination. Her small hands gripped the edge of the curtain, her knuckles wrapped around the fabric with tension. 

—-

Her show the second to last of the night was a triumph, after the vampires ‘dinner’. Santiago claps a hand on Armands forearm “Well” Santiago drawled, breaking the tension, “she certainly knows how to put on a show.”

Claudia with her eyes turned down to the floor says, “She’s more than a performer,” she said softly. “She’s a mystery.”

“And mysteries,” Armand said, his voice low, “are dangerous things.”

The Rusalka tilted her head, a sarcastic quirk of her her lips. “Then you should tread carefully. I might decide this stage isn’t big enough for all of us… If that’s everything I’ll be returning home for the evening I have class in the morning while you all laze about.” She winked at Claudia before offering a two-finger salute to the rest of the coven and waltzing her way out of the theater. 

—

The Rusalka moved through the darkened streets of Paris fluidily, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestones. Applause still echoed faintly in her ears, though it had long since faded behind her. Paris at night was a labyrinth of whispers and flickering lamplight, and she navigated it with ease, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her performance.

From alleys behind, Louis and Armand followed her in silence, their figures barely discernible against the dark of night.

“She is fascinating,” Louis murmured, his voice a soft note in the stillness.

“Fascinating doesn’t mean trustworthy,” Armand replied, his gaze fixed on the Rusalka below.

Their conversation halted as she turned a corner, her stride purposeful. The faint sound of a scuffle reached their ears, followed by a muffled cry.

Louis and Armand exchanged a deep glance before following.

As they approached the narrow alley, they saw her. A man loomed over a woman pinned against the wall, his hand clasped tightly over her mouth. The woman’s wide, tear-filled eyes met the Rusalka’s, silently pleading.

“Unhand her,” the Rusalka said, her voice a low.

The man turned, snorting. “Mind ‘our own busi’ness, whore—”

Before he finished, she was pinning him. Her movements were a blur—predatory. In one swift motion, she tore him away from the woman sending him to the ground.

“Run,” she said to the woman, who hesitated for a moment before fleeing into the night.

The man stumbled his way back up, but she was faster. She grabbed him by the throat, her grip unforgiving. His protests turned to gurgles as she bared her teeth, her features twisting into a feral thing.

Louis and Armand arrived just as she sank her maw into the man’s jugular, draining him until his struggles ceased.

When she finished, she dropped his body to the ground a chunk ripped from his neck with a sneer. Her chest heaving as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You could have intervened sooner,” she said, her voice flat.

“You seem to have it under control,” Armand replied coolly.

She bent, grabbing the dead-man and dragging him toward the shadows. “It’s rude to linger,” she said.

Louis’s voice was soft. “Why did you save her?”

The Rusalka paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Because no one saved me,” she said simply.

Armand raised an eyebrow. “And the performance? Personal, yes?”

She stopped entirely, her expression darkening. “It wasn’t a performance. It was my life.”

Louis and Armand exchanged a glance, the weight of her words settling heavily between them.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her gaze distant. “I was nineteen,” she began. “A circus girl in a tiny village. My neighbor—his name was Artem—was older. Stronger. One night, he followed me back home. I didn’t see him until it was too late.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “When it was over, he told me no one would believe me. And he was right. When I had no choice but to tell the elders, they planned to make us marry.”

Her laughter was bitter. “He didn’t want me, though. Not really. He wanted the fun. And when he found out I was pregnant…” She trailed off, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach.

“He killed you,” Louis said softly.

She nodded. “He tried. Stabbed me. Left me bleeding by the river. I thought it was the end. I hoped it was. But hours later, I woke up. Cold. Alone. And…” Her voice broke. “I knew…there was no way- the child...”

She met their eyes, burning with rage, “I don’t know how I survived, how I became this, but I did. And I found Artem. I made him pay.” And he was delicious. Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said finally, her tone sharp. “You won’t get it,” Armand replied, though his voice was softer than usual.

Louis stepped closer, his expression gentle. “What you endured is unimaginable. But you don’t have to live it alone.”

She scoffed. “I’ve done fine on my own.”

Even so,” Armand said, his eyes dark and unreadable, “you’re welcome to come it with us.”

Her gaze flicked between them, wary. “Why, I’ve made my feelings on the coven dynamic clear?”

“It’s not just the coven,” Louis said simply, “It’s us. Wouldn’t it be nice to not spend the rest of your days running, looking over your shoulder?” 

For a moment, she said nothing. Then shifted to walk parallel to the two vampires.

As they walked together into the night, the tension between them eased, just slightly. The Rusalka glanced at Louis, her expression softening. “You really don’t have to be so earnest, you know.”

“And you don’t have to be so guarded,” he replied.

She smiled faintly. “Hypocrite.”

Behind them, Armand watched in silence, his mind already calculating the implications of her story—and her presence among them.

***

Dubai: Modern Day

The sprawling penthouse was silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass. Daniel leaned forward in his seat, the recorder on his laptop.

Across from him, the Rusalka sat cross-legged on the leather couch, her posture regal, her face shrouded in a calm that felt unnatural. As her body rested comfortable against the skin of the vampires. One at each of her sides, the dim light softened the sharp edges of her features, but her eyes—those unsettling, liquid like eyes—seemed to pierce right through him.

“I know you didn’t come all this way for pleasantries,” she said, finally breaking the silence. 

Daniel cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t. I want to know more—about your time in Paris, with them. About...what you are to Louis, what all this means.”

“Paris,” she began, her tone flat, “was a game of survival, every moment, every word, every gesture—it was all part of a farce. One wrong step, and every university would shut their doors to me, I’d have no reason to stay in the city at all then. The entire petense for me making ‘nice’ with the coven.” Daniel nodded, his pen scratching across the legal pad in his lap. “And with them? With Louis and Armand… Claudia?”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “With them...things felt different. Arrogant and self-centered, yes, but also something more. They were broken things, trying to piece themselves together. Armand’s need for control just barely masking his desperation to relinquish it, Louis with his redemption, the guilt,  and Claudia...Claudia was just trying to find her place in a world that seemed to have no place for her.”

“And you wanted to give her one?” He supplied.

“I wanted her to be given the choice- she deserved the opportunity to make her own path. Unfortunately future events came to…well we will get to that point in the story later won’t we? Louis tells it the best and after all you’re here for him.” 

“So then whats the point of you and “Rashid” having been here at all.”

“Daniel I’m surprised in your line of work and having never heard of fact checkers?” Louis prevents another remark by clearing his throat, he crosses a leg over another and reaches a hand to grab one of her’s, “My mind is a tangled web- having them here allows me to recount events from more than a single perspective which should help you find the most objective truth within this all. Shall we continue the interview now that that’s settled?”