steviebunny

[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?”

[steviebunny]

Chapter 4 Out Tomorrow!!

3. Vile créature

Paris: T’eatre de Vampir

“This place is moldy. It’s going to make your dinner taste poor. They’re going to inhale it.”

“Would you like to be the one to clear it away?”

“If I’m getting on my knees, it won’t be to pour vinegar on the floors.” It’ll be to tear out your throat you perfectly symmetrical bastard. 

“Estelle spends enough time on hers for the whole coven…I wouldn’t waste your time.” Armand’s face catches the light as he flicks his head back, allowing his curls to fall to the side of his face. 

The Rusalka rolls her eyes and says to the vampire “I won’t spend any time on stage, I’ll help your barbaric underlings but won’t perform and most definitely won’t sing.”

“I’m this coven’s maitre and you may find your time in Paris a pleasurable experience if you simply do as I say.”

“That doesn’t work on me, stop trying. You’re like a dog with a bone.” The dim lights cast wavering shadows across the damp stone walls, the Rusalka stands in the middle of the room, her arms crossed. 

Armand’s voice comes through calm but laced with authority. “We know what you are not. Yet we don’t know what you are.” His dark eyes bore into her. “And ignorance in matters of power will be dangerous—for all involved.”

The Rusalka tilts her head, her hair falling like a cascade. “Then you should stop assuming the world revolves around your kind and let the mystery entice you instead.”

Santiago gave a low chuckle from his place, lounging against the darkness the shadows covering his face like a mask. “She has a swift tongue, doesn’t she? But words won’t save you here, vile créature.” He purrs. Louis’s expression betrays his disgust at the sounds- he wordlessly speaks to Armand.

Armand raised a hand, silencing the others. “Enough distractions. You’ve been seen, creature. Not just by us but by others. Do you know what that means?”

“I know the others in France are curious about what swims in their waters.” The Rusalka smiled- her demeanor laced with mischief, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer to him, her movements fluid and deliberate. “But they won’t catch me any easier than you will. Blackmail all you want but I stay in this country by choice, if I choose to flee you’ll never be quick enough to catch.”

Armand’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Perhaps. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. Your refusal to align with anyone despite what your nature may truly be paints a target on your back. You came with me back to this place that must mean something.”

“Maybe I just though she was cute.” The Rusalka tilts her head and facetiously points her pursed lips at the ‘young’ girl lingering behind Louis.

Louis shifted, his jaw tightening as Claudia stepped out from behind him, her small figure illuminated by the dim light eyes glittering with interest. “I suppose I should feel flattered, but tell me please- what are you really? A siren who’s lost her voice or just another monster hiding behind words?”

“Careful, Claudia.” Louis’s voice came through into not only Claudia’s mind, a warning in the dark.

“I’ve already told you —I’m not a siren”. The creature says spinning to address all of those in the room. “I don’t have the luxury of singing fools to their deaths.” She then leaned closer to Claudia and Louis, her voice dropping to a faux whisper. “I prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Before anyone could respond, Santiago clapped his hands together. “Enough of this flirtation.” He stepped out of the darkness, his smirk glinting in the candlelight. “If she’s so keen on staying and not singing, then perhaps we shall test her loyalty some other way.”

“What are you suggesting?” Armand asked.

Santiago shrugged, his dark eyes playing in the light. “Let her prove she’s worth keeping around. She says she’s not afraid, that she’s here by choice. Why not let her show us what she’s capable of? Something… entertaining.”

“I’m not a circus act,” the Rusalka said sharply, her smile fading into a sneer.

“No,” Santiago purred, stepping closer, “but you are an enigma. And enigmas don’t last long here unless they’re useful. So, what will it be? A demonstration of some talent, or an exit from Paris?”

Armand watched her closely, his head tilted back as if weighing her reaction. “You did choose to come back with me,” he said softly. “Perhaps you should show us why.”

The Rusalka’s expression remained steady, but the tension in her frame was obvious. Her gaze swept over the gathered vampires, lingering briefly on Claudia, then Louis, before returning to Armand. “Fine,” she said, her voice like the edge of a blade. “But if you think I’ll degrade myself for your amusement, you’re all fools.”

She took a slow step forward, her presence commanding the room. “Be careful, Santiago. You might find my idea of entertainment far more than you can handle.”

“Try me.”

Louis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a game.”

As Louis tries to get Santiagos attention back to Armand the Rusalka takes a step back- her spine bends awkwardly back, a single hand reaches to the floor as she contorts herself, twisting she lets the hand hold all her weight. She gracefully moves legs kicking off the ground before curving above her into a pseudo hand stand. Lastly dismounting with a push of her hand propelling her body upwards with a twist that allows her to land perfectly on the opposit foot. The movements entirely unnatural but still believbly able to come from a human-like body. “Entertaining enough?” She quips tossing her head back to look deep into Armand’s heavy gaze. 

“But it is,” Claudia said softly into his mind, a wicked smile on her lips. “And I think we’re just getting started.”

NEXT CHAPTER "FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT" Will be posted Friday. This chapter will be 2x as long...sorry for any Grammer mistakes I'll fix them eventually I finally got the actual intent of this chapter to work right...at least in my head it does

[steviebunny]

I've had this same or at least a similar thought so many times but it always starts the same way- Tony Stark messing with his machines and the multiverse to end up accidentally transporting a whole group of interdimensional strangers into his lab. LOTR, GOT, HOTD, HP, all others I've never gotten farther with it than that though. A personal favorite thought bubble I never went anywhere with was the mediation of arguments between all the accidentally transported Sherlock Holmes's and the refusal to admit RDJ Sherlock looks anything like Tony.

I've read a lot of stories about modern girls in LOTR universe and now I wonder. Is there a reverse of this? Where - elves, preferably - get transported here? Here's one great story rec. I would read the shit out of this particular genre.

[steviebunny]

Still true in the year of our Lord 2025

I'm so tired of watching some of that interview with the vampire discourse. They are flawed characters for a reason they literally have eternity. Obviously they're going to be immensely flawed. You can both love lestat for his good moments, his affection, his ability to see beauty everywhere, and have empathy for his childhood , what Magnus did to him all while acknowledging that he was a toxic partner to Louis and guardian to Claudia. You can feel empathy for Louis, and acknowledge his rage and quiet resentment as a flaw. You can love Claudia and criticize that she murdered her parental figure. You can feel for Armand and want to give that poor boy a hug after the 500 years of suffering he's had at the hand of everyone who was supposed to care for him while also being upset he's a manipulative gaslighting bastard.

The only two least flawed characters internal struggles we even get a look at are Daniel and Madeline. Who are both remarkably human for the majority of the show.

Not to mention for a majority of the centuries each of these vampires have been alive. Therapy has not existed! For most of these characters, the peak of their own self-reflection is Claudia's journaling or finding themselves through art, be that music, directing, or photography.

We all know people in the year of our Lord 2024 who don't go to therapy because they think it's useless or just for the "crazies" If you thought your toxic gay vampire franchise would be beyond that you're delusional.

[steviebunny]

3. Vile créature

Paris: T’eatre de Vampir

“This place is moldy. It’s going to make your dinner taste poor. They’re going to inhale it.”

“Would you like to be the one to clear it away?”

“If I’m getting on my knees, it won’t be to pour vinegar on the floors.” It’ll be to tear out your throat you perfectly symmetrical bastard. 

“Estelle spends enough time on hers for the whole coven…I wouldn’t waste your time.” Armand’s face catches the light as he flicks his head back, allowing his curls to fall to the side of his face. 

The Rusalka rolls her eyes and says to the vampire “I won’t spend any time on stage, I’ll help your barbaric underlings but won’t perform and most definitely won’t sing.”

“I’m this coven’s maitre and you may find your time in Paris a pleasurable experience if you simply do as I say.”

“That doesn’t work on me, stop trying. You’re like a dog with a bone.” The dim lights cast wavering shadows across the damp stone walls, the Rusalka stands in the middle of the room, her arms crossed. 

Armand’s voice comes through calm but laced with authority. “We know what you are not. Yet we don’t know what you are.” His dark eyes bore into her. “And ignorance in matters of power will be dangerous—for all involved.”

The Rusalka tilts her head, her hair falling like a cascade. “Then you should stop assuming the world revolves around your kind and let the mystery entice you instead.”

Santiago gave a low chuckle from his place, lounging against the darkness the shadows covering his face like a mask. “She has a swift tongue, doesn’t she? But words won’t save you here, vile créature.” He purrs. Louis’s expression betrays his disgust at the sounds- he wordlessly speaks to Armand.

Armand raised a hand, silencing the others. “Enough distractions. You’ve been seen, creature. Not just by us but by others. Do you know what that means?”

“I know the others in France are curious about what swims in their waters.” The Rusalka smiled- her demeanor laced with mischief, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer to him, her movements fluid and deliberate. “But they won’t catch me any easier than you will. Blackmail all you want but I stay in this country by choice, if I choose to flee you’ll never be quick enough to catch.”

Armand’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Perhaps. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. Your refusal to align with anyone despite what your nature may truly be paints a target on your back. You came with me back to this place that must mean something.”

“Maybe I just though she was cute.” The Rusalka tilts her head and facetiously points her pursed lips at the ‘young’ girl lingering behind Louis.

Louis shifted, his jaw tightening as Claudia stepped out from behind him, her small figure illuminated by the dim light eyes glittering with interest. “I suppose I should feel flattered, but tell me please- what are you really? A siren who’s lost her voice or just another monster hiding behind words?”

“Careful, Claudia.” Louis’s voice came through into not only Claudia’s mind, a warning in the dark.

“I’ve already told you —I’m not a siren”. The creature says spinning to address all of those in the room. “I don’t have the luxury of singing fools to their deaths.” She then leaned closer to Claudia and Louis, her voice dropping to a faux whisper. “I prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Before anyone could respond, Santiago clapped his hands together. “Enough of this flirtation.” He stepped out of the darkness, his smirk glinting in the candlelight. “If she’s so keen on staying and not singing, then perhaps we shall test her loyalty some other way.”

“What are you suggesting?” Armand asked.

Santiago shrugged, his dark eyes playing in the light. “Let her prove she’s worth keeping around. She says she’s not afraid, that she’s here by choice. Why not let her show us what she’s capable of? Something… entertaining.”

“I’m not a circus act,” the Rusalka said sharply, her smile fading into a sneer.

“No,” Santiago purred, stepping closer, “but you are an enigma. And enigmas don’t last long here unless they’re useful. So, what will it be? A demonstration of some talent, or an exit from Paris?”

Armand watched her closely, his head tilted back as if weighing her reaction. “You did choose to come back with me,” he said softly. “Perhaps you should show us why.”

The Rusalka’s expression remained steady, but the tension in her frame was obvious. Her gaze swept over the gathered vampires, lingering briefly on Claudia, then Louis, before returning to Armand. “Fine,” she said, her voice like the edge of a blade. “But if you think I’ll degrade myself for your amusement, you’re all fools.”

She took a slow step forward, her presence commanding the room. “Be careful, Santiago. You might find my idea of entertainment far more than you can handle.”

“Try me.”

Louis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a game.”

As Louis tries to get Santiagos attention back to Armand the Rusalka takes a step back- her spine bends awkwardly back, a single hand reaches to the floor as she contorts herself, twisting she lets the hand hold all her weight. She gracefully moves legs kicking off the ground before curving above her into a pseudo hand stand. Lastly dismounting with a push of her hand propelling her body upwards with a twist that allows her to land perfectly on the opposit foot. The movements entirely unnatural but still believbly able to come from a human-like body. “Entertaining enough?” She quips tossing her head back to look deep into Armand’s heavy gaze. 

“But it is,” Claudia said softly into his mind, a wicked smile on her lips. “And I think we’re just getting started.”

NEXT CHAPTER "FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT" Will be posted Friday. This chapter will be 2x as long...sorry for any Grammer mistakes I'll fix them eventually I finally got the actual intent of this chapter to work right...at least in my head it does

[steviebunny]

3. Vile créature

Paris: T’eatre de Vampir

“This place is moldy. It’s going to make your dinner taste poor. They’re going to inhale it.”

“Would you like to be the one to clear it away?”

“If I’m getting on my knees, it won’t be to pour vinegar on the floors.” It’ll be to tear out your throat you perfectly symmetrical bastard. 

“Estelle spends enough time on hers for the whole coven…I wouldn’t waste your time.” Armand’s face catches the light as he flicks his head back, allowing his curls to fall to the side of his face. 

The Rusalka rolls her eyes and says to the vampire “I won’t spend any time on stage, I’ll help your barbaric underlings but won’t perform and most definitely won’t sing.”

“I’m this coven’s maitre and you may find your time in Paris a pleasurable experience if you simply do as I say.”

“That doesn’t work on me, stop trying. You’re like a dog with a bone.” The dim lights cast wavering shadows across the damp stone walls, the Rusalka stands in the middle of the room, her arms crossed. 

Armand’s voice comes through calm but laced with authority. “We know what you are not. Yet we don’t know what you are.” His dark eyes bore into her. “And ignorance in matters of power will be dangerous—for all involved.”

The Rusalka tilts her head, her hair falling like a cascade. “Then you should stop assuming the world revolves around your kind and let the mystery entice you instead.”

Santiago gave a low chuckle from his place, lounging against the darkness the shadows covering his face like a mask. “She has a swift tongue, doesn’t she? But words won’t save you here, vile créature.” He purrs. Louis’s expression betrays his disgust at the sounds- he wordlessly speaks to Armand.

Armand raised a hand, silencing the others. “Enough distractions. You’ve been seen, creature. Not just by us but by others. Do you know what that means?”

“I know the others in France are curious about what swims in their waters.” The Rusalka smiled- her demeanor laced with mischief, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer to him, her movements fluid and deliberate. “But they won’t catch me any easier than you will. Blackmail all you want but I stay in this country by choice, if I choose to flee you’ll never be quick enough to catch.”

Armand’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Perhaps. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. Your refusal to align with anyone despite what your nature may truly be paints a target on your back. You came with me back to this place that must mean something.”

“Maybe I just though she was cute.” The Rusalka tilts her head and facetiously points her pursed lips at the ‘young’ girl lingering behind Louis.

Louis shifted, his jaw tightening as Claudia stepped out from behind him, her small figure illuminated by the dim light eyes glittering with interest. “I suppose I should feel flattered, but tell me please- what are you really? A siren who’s lost her voice or just another monster hiding behind words?”

“Careful, Claudia.” Louis’s voice came through into not only Claudia’s mind, a warning in the dark.

“I’ve already told you —I’m not a siren”. The creature says spinning to address all of those in the room. “I don’t have the luxury of singing fools to their deaths.” She then leaned closer to Claudia and Louis, her voice dropping to a faux whisper. “I prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Before anyone could respond, Santiago clapped his hands together. “Enough of this flirtation.” He stepped out of the darkness, his smirk glinting in the candlelight. “If she’s so keen on staying and not singing, then perhaps we shall test her loyalty some other way.”

“What are you suggesting?” Armand asked.

Santiago shrugged, his dark eyes playing in the light. “Let her prove she’s worth keeping around. She says she’s not afraid, that she’s here by choice. Why not let her show us what she’s capable of? Something… entertaining.”

“I’m not a circus act,” the Rusalka said sharply, her smile fading into a sneer.

“No,” Santiago purred, stepping closer, “but you are an enigma. And enigmas don’t last long here unless they’re useful. So, what will it be? A demonstration of some talent, or an exit from Paris?”

Armand watched her closely, his head tilted back as if weighing her reaction. “You did choose to come back with me,” he said softly. “Perhaps you should show us why.”

The Rusalka’s expression remained steady, but the tension in her frame was obvious. Her gaze swept over the gathered vampires, lingering briefly on Claudia, then Louis, before returning to Armand. “Fine,” she said, her voice like the edge of a blade. “But if you think I’ll degrade myself for your amusement, you’re all fools.”

She took a slow step forward, her presence commanding the room. “Be careful, Santiago. You might find my idea of entertainment far more than you can handle.”

“Try me.”

Louis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a game.”

As Louis tries to get Santiagos attention back to Armand the Rusalka takes a step back- her spine bends awkwardly back, a single hand reaches to the floor as she contorts herself, twisting she lets the hand hold all her weight. She gracefully moves legs kicking off the ground before curving above her into a pseudo hand stand. Lastly dismounting with a push of her hand propelling her body upwards with a twist that allows her to land perfectly on the opposit foot. The movements entirely unnatural but still believbly able to come from a human-like body. “Entertaining enough?” She quips tossing her head back to look deep into Armand’s heavy gaze. 

“But it is,” Claudia said softly into his mind, a wicked smile on her lips. “And I think we’re just getting started.”

NEXT CHAPTER "FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT" Will be posted Friday. This chapter will be 2x as long...sorry for any Grammer mistakes I'll fix them eventually I finally got the actual intent of this chapter to work right...at least in my head it does