#monstroum

[prescitia]

@monstroum asked: that was wrong of me , and i know it . / from louis !

"Suddenly he is a man of reason." Inexorable! Obstinate! Inconsiderate! Selfish! Pietous! He questions the very foundation they have built upon. Lessons he has graciously imparted on a disobliging mind bear no fruit. It rots at the roots.

"You continue your impulsive acts thinking only of yourself. Damn the consequences and damn me!" Breath drawn and held until the throbbing in his skull subsides, exhaled in a lofty sigh.

"We will clean your mess together. Comme d'habitude."

[heunmoor]

@monstroum INQUIRED: are you ready for the real party ? / from santiago !

𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬 , almost akin to a chortle as smoke trapped itself in the base of his throat and silenced any words that may have come to his tongue . TAKEN OFF GUARD IN THE BACK ALLEYWAY , lax form transforms into a taut arch before loosening once more . santiago . creeping in the shadows , 𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 . just santiago . no golds , or blues , or crimson spewing from neck to blooming white cloth . santiago . santiago . not ..... not him .

" i didn't know there were any festivities going on after the show ? " he posed it as an inquiry , fingers twitching once before allowing the cigarette to fall to his feet and smolder away . SERENE SILENCE NO LONGER WALTZING THROUGH HIS MIND . an edge now set at his throat , keeping him on his toes . careful , louis , don't slip now . " 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 ? "

[lechroniques]

@monstroum : “You're just very bad at explaining.” from Ferris.

“Did  you  ever  consider  that  perhaps  you’re  just  incompetent  in  the  realm  of  listening?”  Lestat  is  a  spitfire  with  a  temper  that  paralleled  his  own  father  at  times,  though  he  shot  back  with   ᴵᴿᴿᴵᵀᴬᵀᴵᴼᴺ  thinly  veiled  in  a  layer  of  calm.  Silent  agitation,  a  tilt  of  the  head  paired  with  lips  pressing  into  a  thin  line,  the  corners  of  his  mouth  sliding  upwards  into  a  forced  grin.

“Your  heightened  senses  are  clearly  useless,  and  rest  assured,  I  won’t  continue  to  waste  my  ᴮᴿᴱᴬᵀᴴ  when  it  does  nothing  but  fall  on  deaf  ears.”  Petty.  Catty,  even.  Though  he  cared  very  little  about  being  polite  when  the  other  was  nothing  more  than  a  crude,  pedantic  individual  in  the  eyes  of  the  vampire.  The  stench  of  disrespect  made  his  nostrils  flare  as  he  sucked  in  his  breath.  

“Find  someone  else  to  assist  you  if  you  insist  on  behaving  like  an  untrained  dog.”

[cultfic]

⎯ @monstroum, dr. lecter : “ you can always talk to me. ”

it's been requested by bureau hierarchy that, for holden to reinstate his position as occasional field agent, he undergoes therapy for the mandatory period of a month ⎯ longer if deemed necessary by his psychiatrist. and here he sits in dr. lecter's tastefully decorated office, hands folded over his lap as if an inexperienced schoolboy facing his tutor despite his years spent analyzing minds himself. ❝  i, uh .. well, i suppose you want to hear about the panic attacks?  ❞ he smoothes his tie, ❝  i'm sorry, this is new to me, i've never been to therapy before.  ❞

[vampien]

(@monstroum),‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎santiago said:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" hell's better than this shithole. "

" you're lucky no one else is around to hear you say that. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's a playful raise of her brow, one that when thrown in the right direction, creates an enticing aura about her.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's parts of her waiting to be deconstructed, like the performance in privacy that she seeps into, opting for dramatics over vulnerability‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(and when the two mix, maybe she's truly as close as she can be to her true self),‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but it's hard for her to pull apart, what part of her is performing to santiago and what part is true expression?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" come on now, you don't mean that.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you preform to applause every night, and you're very good may i add, i would know. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎one leg falls over the other, an act of ease as she offers him a gentle smile‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(she can feel it, a genuine compliment, and slowly any anxiety of a one-on-one conversation, with transactions voided, becomes a bit simpler). ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" you know i used to come see you before i turned?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i loved it, every second‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎so why the long face? "

[wolfkilermoved]

@monstroum ( LOUIS ) said : ❛  21 .   a  kiss  on  the  cheek .

most would deem it pathetic , the way his slow beating heart flutters over the simplicity of this touch . but most have never known louis , nor loved him , nor have they —

they are taking things slow . a perfectly modern phrase for these perfectly modern times in which time now reigns in abundance . in the distance , the sounds of his thousands of fans is slow to dissipate , wholly uneager to let the grandness of the night go . and were it any other night he would be more than tempted to indulge them , but . . . louis is here , pressing a chaste kiss to the high arch of his cheek and smiling that little smile that makes the world feel as though it's just for the two of them . louis is here to offer his congratulations and nothing more , and lestat is ( will be ) alright with that . of course , this does not prevent his responding smile from being positively soppy nor does it keep his hand from lingering at the delightful curve of his elbow . " always kind to me , mon cher . "

[cranetm]

❛ was it worth it? compromising yourself for money? ❜ / from harvey dent !

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖓 2022 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 ╰┈➤ accepting

❛ money? ❜ he scoffs, red - rimmed eyes squinting in disbelief. even with his mind in shambles, crane remains all too capable of delivering a lecture. ❛ always so small - minded, dent. you have to think of the bigger picture. ❜ scarecrow. ❛ funding. funding is everything. how else am i meant to do my research? ❜ all that matters is the development of his toxin; the progression of fear itself.

❛ but i suppose you would struggle to understand the risks necessitated by true progress. ❜

[hostiae]

paris always sounds better than it looks. a lesson learned every time he's turned to the city ( every time disappointed in the eventuality of its facade crumbling down ). oh, how easy it would be to blame it on the city itself, and not the grease-painted coven. lestat attempts to dig a grave for the shame that comes with his foolish — was it naivety? delusion? desperation? — he would have happily never returned to the théâtre des vampires' territory. even prior to nicki's death, he saw nothing for himself there and no sense in returning. just as his remains were forever entombed, so was his desire to come back.

until after the failed murder attempt.

lestat attempts to keep his relative calm, a breath forced through his nose as santiago addresses him. in another time and another life, he might have complimented the younger vampire's appeal to the audience but instead, his presence is sharp nails on a chalkboard. a shame only to them. lestat has every intention of digging his heels in, in fussing over every word in the script, and prolonging every rehearsal until they want to sentence themselves to the sun instead.

santiago can offer scathing reviews to his work, he can try to bruise his ego and lestat will take it with gritted teeth. if this were more than a farce, he was certain he could tear all eyes from santiago on stage. but he goes a step too far when he mentions them.

( his louis. his claudia. )

he slams santiago into the wall, the force of the shove reverberating through the walls, resulting in shattered glass on the floor. ❝ oh, you have yet to see my temper, monsieur, ❞ through gritted teeth, his fangs are extracted. he catches the brief fear in the other's eyes and wants to capitalize on it. even as his fingers wind around his wrist, lestat's grip doesn't weaken. ❝ i'll remember where i am as soon as you remember who i am. ❞

oh, but he does know the danger he's in. and just as quick as his temper flared, he releases santiago, his hands softening as he smooths the other vampire's vest condescendingly, ❝ and once you do that, i'm sure sharing the stage won't be as unbearable for either of us. ❞ the smile on his face and the politeness dripping from his tone is laced with venom.

❝ after all, this miserable little show must go on. ❞

( @monstroum // continued from here !! )

[sadiestics]

@monstroum,  continued from here;

" madam doyle ! " jonathan exclaimed , startling himself with the high volume of his own voice . he had halted their climb up the wooden staircase to look down at the heiress , watching her features flicker under the flame of a candelabra . his friends had told him ms. sadie doyle knew plenty about the occult , that she was familiar with the peculiar hungers of that mansion's owner and what they implied . but mr. harker had become increasingly frustrated with the woman's nonchalance . HORROR LURKED WITHIN THOSE CORRIDORS ! how was she not fearful ? how was she not alert ? how had she found the time to fix herself a drink ? white locks of hair fell over jon's right eye , reminding him that the past was , in fact , real and that it had left the most UNPLEASANT MARK ON HIM . he took a deep breath , attempting to put himself together lest he say something unpleasant to his companion . " you have made it perfectly clear that you do not share of the same apprehensions nor precautions as i , but please , " blue eyes widened at her in the darkness , the shivering flame causing the young man to appear more somber than he had meant to . " if you must speak then let it be in prayer . "

having been more interested in the glass clutched between her fingers than in their ascent up the creaky mansion stairs, sadie does not see or sense jonathan's sudden stop, and bumps rather clumsily into the back of him.  she balances precariously between two steps, free hand flailing out towards the bannister to steady herself.  "mister harker!"  she parrots back to him,  "you almost made me spill my martini!"  emphasis on the word almost, for to waste even a drop of gin or vermouth is a mortal sin in her book, and she only ever sins when frank is around.

"the only prayers i know, darling, are wholly inappropriate for this kind of situation."  a too-long pause, as though to ensure that the double meaning of those unsuitable invocations is properly understood by her present company.  "if you don't mind my asking,"  and it's pity if he does, because she does not care.  "why exactly are we exploring a mansion that gives you such a case of the heebie-jeebies?"

[cranetm]

he can feel the rage simmering within harvey like the wavering of a distant fata morgana. a promise of unbearable heat. it's betrayed through his pleasure— subtle, yet stunningly sadistic, despite everything. crane simply wishes he would come to terms with that. perhaps with time. once gotham really gets into his bones. the doctor manages a little smirk of his own, head bowing, though his cold, tired eyes remain pinned on dent. ❛ oh, harvey... do you truly think so low of me? ❜ with a wrinkle of his nose, crane shakes his head. no acknowledgment is made of the conditions at arkham. it simply is not necessary. abuse there is all too common; but crane has endured far worse.

❛ there is no payment you could give me to change my diagnoses. but what a dreadful implication... that one so honorable as harvey dent would be willing to bribe a lowly criminal such as myself. what would the good people of gotham think? what would they say? ❜ he leans forward, cuffs clinking, voice cruelly soft. he wants to see the spark in dent's eyes. he wants to see it explode into flames. ❛ perhaps you should take some time off. get your head checked, before you make any other absurd offers. ❜

harvey tilts his head , trying to disguise the anger which threatens to tighten his jaw . jonathan crane had always known what buttons to push ; the district attorney's hand slowly made its' way all the way down to his pants' pocket and found it there : HIS SILVER COIN . cold and trustful and fair . as soon as his thumb brushed over the dollar , dent found his footing again . " but i'm having so much fun focusing on your failings . and let me tell you , crane , they are a'plenty . " there it was , the dimpled smile , the steady stare ... the face of a new gotham .

the fingers of his free hand drummed against the table . he wasn't there to point and laugh at crane's misfortune . dent , as always , was there to try and fix things . " if you're willing to testify that all those mobsters you claimed to require treatment at arkham were actually of sane mind and that you were ㅤ─ ㅤ " he gave jonathan a knowing look . " mistaken in some of your diagnosis , we might be able to provide you with more comfortable conditions here at arkham . " eyes shifted across the visiting room . harvey thought he saw some rust on one of the tables . but he couldn't be sure . there was a very good chance it might have been dry blood .

" can't imagine it's been easy being locked up in here . but i mean ... you already knew what you were in for , right ? "

[rockybloo]

If food tastes so good for monstroum, sweethearts first meal after turning must have been heavenly

There was a good chunk of time where Sweetheart ate some of the most food in her entire lifetime in the first couple of months after transforming because she was on a mission to find out what all her usual meals tasted like including some meals she used to hate before.

She kept Redhot very busy in the kitchen

[coinofsilver]

# 𝙲𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙾𝙵𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚁 ━━ selective & mutuals only rp blog for HARVEY DENT aka TWO-FACE from the dcu . this portrayal is canon divergent plus headcanon and the batman (2022) based . blog might contain NSFW + TRIGGERING content , please read info provided before following or interacting . will only be interacting with people who are 21+ . previously @monstroum . poorly written by coffee .

a blog inspired by film noir , david lynch's blue velvet , david fincher's se7en & mindhunter , the concept of the anti-hero vs the anti-villain , dr. jekyll and mr. hyde , true neutrality , character development for the worse , black and white , a fall from grace , luck as a substitute for morality , a tragic and unavoidable fate , [...]

CARRD - HEADCANONS - CH. STUDY - PINTEREST - SIDEBLOG - USFW - SPOTIFY

[cultfic]

⎯ @monstroum, the narrator : “ what the hell were you thinking? ”

he can still make out the wailing sirens in the distance, heart racing, disheveled but the tie still hangs from his neck while his slippery grip tightens 'round the suitcase handle. ❝  c'mon, just ⎯ open the freakin door will ya?!  ❞ crazed glance cast sideways as he forces his voice to keep low lest the neighbors decide to sneak a peak. ❝  i can't go back to my place. just lemme crash here for the night, man.  ❞ he knows the guy from fight club ⎯ not that he competes himself but he likes to place a bet every once in a while. and they're on good enough terms that he gave him his address once over a late night drink. ❝  cops got no reason t'come snoopin in here. i'll be outta your hair in the morning, i swear, just .. lemme in.  ❞

[vicemirrored-a]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒.  /  @monstroum​​ asked: ✐ from ferris (:<

“ what on earth prompted you to take a hand in this? ”

[wolfkilermoved]

@monstroum [ LOUIS ] sent : [ GUIDE ]: in the process of guiding the receiver through a crowded place, the sender’s hand protectively grazes against the small of their back

if there is one thing lestat finds he detests about the latest modern age , it is the noise . fervent and obsessive , the humans seem to revel in being louder than all the rest : their machines , the constant , insistent buzz of social media , the plastic vanity of their night life . . . it can all occasionally be too much to bear . and yes , though he is , on a frequent occasion , guilty of encouraging it , he still goes back to the quiet life of the good vampire when all is said and done . so it was more than a shock to learn his dear louis - book-ish , prudent louis , has allowed himself to become quite comfortable in these bursting at the seams settings .

a breath shudders out of him , cool against the warm flesh of the surrounding crowd , making heads turn and mouths gasp in recognition . they had both already eaten , ravenously consumed what felt more like a peace offering than shared pleasure , so there is no fear in that , but the hunger is more gluttonous these days - forever famished , an unhappy throb along his gums that must be sated by rats and the odd stray who's owners are found to be more spiteful than he . and then : louis's hand to his back , prompting him through . discouraging any lingering , no doubt , but light and loving and causing his muscles to stiffen . he is quick to glance over his shoulder , questioning and confident that he will not be led astray . not in this crowd , anyway .

" apologies , mon cher . i will try to be quicker . "

[soothfog]

@monstroum  for  mr. memphis

some days—more than you would think, yet never enough—amount to nothing. today, nothing that matters will happen. these days feel different. or, lee feels different on these days. less loose. less altitude. memory can be lifted, unweighted. leaving his mind as open and full as a valley folded between two mountains. someone will propose, surely, an intern will order the wrong coffee for their boss, your mother will die and it will not end the world. which feels harshly dishonest. but would you want it to, if you could choose? there is profound internal value to the blood of life that migrates to the heart but does not stop there, cannot stop there. i’m sorry, the physics of staying are unbreakable laws.

now it is 11:58pm. tension sweats out of lee. not in the human way. it sweats out of him like an envelopment. like beads of tea through the porous walls of a teapot: something that ought to be held—isn’t. he is trying, very hard, to sleep. if he can sleep for long enough, he might be able to stall out tomorrow like a dead car left running through the night. ruminating on the process of sleep only pulls him further from it.

lee rolls over onto his stomach (midnight, the red light of his alarm clock imprints in the dark air, he sighs) and turns his bedside lamp on. he grabs a fistful of the bottom of his plain white t-shirt and wipes the sweat from his face. he hears a soft clatter on the rusty fire escape outside his bedroom window. he stands to look.

a man in a black suit is lying there. he seems drunk, maybe. or wounded. or both. and so indistinguishably a part of yet apart from the night. like a small fat of the night calcified. lee does not die here because he remembers when he will die. still, he fears. he taps on the glass of his unopened window, peering down at the body.

          “hello? are you hurt? how did you get up here?”