#vampire event murder

[dearlittleloon]

vampire - event : active on twitter

[unluckyprime]

I KNOW WHAT THEY ARE!!!! 🤨🏳️‍🌈

[agentx8d]

‼️REEM IS A BABY WHO NEEDS TO EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY‼️

THIS IS URGENT— PLEASE REBLOG!

Reem is a baby with down syndrome and a deficient heart condition living in Gaza. Reem and her family need help to evacuate NOW so that Reem can get the MEDICAL CARE she URGENTLY NEEDS!

Reem is a baby with her whole life ahead of her, along with her two young siblings! To her parents, her and her siblings are their everything! PLEASE, let us do all we can to help Reem and her family live!

PLEASE REBLOG, and donate if you can! ANY HELP COUNTS— SHARING GOES A LONG WAY!

Thank you so much! ❤️💚🤍🖤🕊️

[martyrbat]

batman and superman vs vampires and werewolves #2

[medusapelagia]

BatBoys Spooky Prompts (all of them!)

Written for the prompt from @batboysxprompts

This fic is a mix of eight spooky stories that I totally made up!

I have no idea if there might be something similar somewhere but none of these stories is inspired by anything more than my crazy ideas and they contain MANY sensitive topics. It's a spooky story and it's meant to be a little bit scary but pay attention to the tags and don't read if you are not comfortable with that!

PS Thanks to @cxwzkeys that was super kind and superhelpful!

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: monsters, witches, werewolves, ghosts, blood, animal death, torture, homicides, death, vampires, spiders, poison, blood rituals, mention of children sacrificing, implied reference to rape Word Count: 4210

The kids have gone trick or treating and now Steve’s house is full of candies and chocolate wraps, half-eaten pieces of pizza, and far too much Coca-Cola.

“With all this sugar they will never fall asleep!” He complains on his boyfriend's shoulder.

“What’s the problem? Do you have any ideas you want to share with the class?” Eddie teases him.

“No, definitely not with the class! Maybe with you…” Steve smirks.

“Stop it! We still have at least two movies to see and the little gremlins…” a loud thunder interrupts Robin while a big storm breaks.

“Yeah, no I don’t think we are going to have fun tonight baby.” Eddie confirms looking at the agitated boys. It’s not that they are scared of a storm, it’s just that too many bad things happened in the past and they are very cautious.

“Start the movie, I’ll join you soon.” Steve says while cleaning the kitchen.

Eddie nods and goes back to the living room with Robin, ready to start the movie, when they see a big lightning really close and everything becomes pitch black.

For a moment everyone freezes, waiting for the appearance of some kind of monster.

A loud crash from the kitchen breaks the silence.

“Steve? Are you ok?” Dustin asks, ready to join him in the kitchen.

“I’m fine Dust! Don’t come here, I dropped a glass.”

“Ok, ok no one moves. Steve, stay where you are, I’m going in the basement to see if I can fix the light.”

“Are you near the coffee table?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

“There should be an electric torch in one of the drawers.”

“My baby is always ready for action, isn’t he?” Eddie proudly says, taking the torch and going into the basement.

The circuit breaker blocks it's dead and is not something he could fix so he comes back to the kitchen.

“I checked the circuit breaker blocks and it's dead but it has no damage. Maybe something happened at the power plant.”

Dustin stands up “We did a project in fifth grade with a lamp and…”

“Very interesting Dustin, but not helping.” Eddie turns toward Steve “Let’s clean all the glass, I’m sure the light will come back soon.”

But the time passes and they are still sitting in the living room, using the torch as their only source of light.

“Why don’t we share scary stories?” Mike proposes when the light doesn’t seem to come back.

“I don’t know any scary stories.” El comments sadly.

“Oh, sweety, I’m sure you know plenty of scary stories, even scarier than the one Mike is thinking about.” Robin hugs Eleven tight “But why don’t we listen to Mike, for once.”

“For once?!”

“Yeah. For once. That’s your moment of glory, are you happy?” Max replies.

“Fine. So. This story is about pumpkins and ghosts.”

“Are you going to tell us the story of Jack-o-lantern, nerd?” Erica makes fun of him, but Mike ignores her.

“Well, a long long time ago there was a kid that was so poor that he had nothing at all. His shoes were full of holes, and all the clothes that he had were the worn-out ones he was wearing. During the Halloween season, his parents took him to work in one of those farms where you can pick your own pumpkin. He was small and undernourished but his parents didn’t care and put him to work. Lifting the pumpkins was a hard job but he did it and for an entire week he lifted the pumpkin and helped at the farm. On Friday night, when the owner of the farm called the kid to pay him for his job, he was nowhere to be found. They called his parents, and his friends, but he seemed to have disappeared into thin air. A few days later the pumpkins started to roll away on their own, almost escaping from the hands of the farm owner and from the hands of the potential buyers. That night cold air woke up the owner of the farm and, without knowing how it happened, he found himself with no shoes and no jacket staring at a pyramide of orange carved pumpkins that grinned evilly at him, and he felt down into his soul that they were going to eat him alive. When he reopened his eyes he was back in his room, while his wife was screaming pointing at the pyramid of pumpkins that moved on their land until they disappeared into the mist. When the farmer and his wife went back to the point where the farmer had seen, or maybe dreamed, the pumpkins pyramid, they found the body of the young kid that was killed under the weight of the pumpkins.”

The boys stare at him.

“That’s all, Mike?” Max asks and Mike nods.

“Well, Holly was terrified when I told her this story.”

“Holly is six, Mike! How could you tell her a scary story?!” Steve sighs.

“She asked for it!” he protests. 

“That’s why she didn’t want to carve the pumpkin with me this year.” Steve realizes.

“Do you usually carve pumpkins with a six-year-old, babe?” Eddie asks amused.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t trust her with a knife so she draws the face and cleans the inside and I help her with the cutting. Usually. Not this year, thanks to Mike!”

“Well, you should thank me because you had more time to spend with your boyfriend.”

Eddie smiles “That’s true Wheeler. So I think I owe you a scary story.” he says, taking the torch.

“Ohh… Eddie’s stories are amazing. What story are you going to tell us? The one about the haunted house? Or the one about the skeleton that got possessed or…”

“No Dustin, I’m going to tell you the story of the first Vampire Coven.” Eddie says, getting closer to the center of the room.

“Vampires are cool but we know everything about them.” Will says

“Oh, do you?” 

“Yeah. They suck blood, they are immortal but can be killed by the sun or with a stake through the heart…” Lucas enumerates.

“Oh, but that is for normal vampires. Not for king vampires.”

“So even vampires have kings, great.” Max remarks, taking a Coca-Cola glass from the table.

“Oh, they have queens too. Beautiful queens dispensing death and sorrow with their sole presence.”

Eleven nods “Bitchin.”

“Bitchin indeed.” Eddie confirms “And do you know how you can spot a Royal Vampire? First of all, they are older than the others. Yeah, I know, vampires don’t age, but you can see how old they are from their eyes. They have seen too much and they have no emotions left. Then they feed from other vampires because human blood is not enough to sustain them after centuries. And the last thing is that they don’t feed only with blood, but with emotions too.”

“Emotions?” Will asks and Eddie nods.

“You know those days when you feel scared with no motif? When every sound makes you jump? When you feel sad and tired and you don’t know why? Well, there is probably an ancient vampire feeding from you and I’m sure that even if you can’t see him you can feel his breath on your neck.”

“Booh!”

Mike yells and then turns, Steve is laughing behind him “Fuck you, Harrington!”

“Language!” Eddie and Steve scold him at the same time, while Steve goes back to sit next to Eddie “Have you seen his face?”

“Perfect timing, baby.” Eddie praises him, kissing him gently on the cheek.

“No kisses! We made a no-kissing rule!” Dustin complains.

“It’s not my fault if Suzy’s parents didn’t let her come for Halloween.” Steve replies, then turns toward the others “Any other scary story?”

“I… I think I know one.” Will shyly say.

“Go on.”

“It’s… it’s silly.”

“I love silly scary stories!” Eddie winks at him and Will blushes, lowering his eyes.

“It’s a story about wolves… werewolves…”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Erica says.

“Once I saw a wolf so big that I’m pretty sure it was a werewolf.” Lucas intervenes with a grin.

“Wolves are big, idiot.” Erica replies “They are not big dogs. They are huge dogs. And the only wolf you saw was at the zoo.”

“Don’t call me an idiot!” 

“I’ll call you an idiot when you act like one!”

“I just wanted to make Will feel at ease!”

“Oh, you totally nailed it, didn’t you?”

“Kids! Stop! We have a story to listen to. Don’t bicker! Erica, sit here with me, Lucas, change places with Dustin.” Robin orders.

“But why?!”

“Do as I told you!” she repeats and when everyone is seated again Robin gestures to Will to continue.

“Well. It’s a story about werewolves. The first ones.”

“Oh… that’s interesting.” Max states.

“Well… you all know what a werewolf is, right?”

El gently shakes her head.

“They are men that transform into wolves on full moon nights.” Will explains.

“This sounds scary.” She confirms “Do they have powers?”

“They are super strong, and they can run super fast, but no psychic powers. And I’ll tell you why.”

The group's attention is all on Will.

“The first werewolves weren’t men. They were wolves, who transformed into men on full moon nights due to an old curse that a witch put on them.” Will continues “The witch transformed them so that the men could kill them more easily, but the wolves were still too fast and too strong, so the men started to give them offers to keep them away from their houses; but the offers were never enough so they started to offer them their newborns as sacrifices until a young witch decided that they have to offer them their women to impregnate them and having baby who would have turned into wolves during the night of full moon and would have protected their community. They were fighters and were deeply honored until the story of their origins got lost and men began to trust them less and less in the end the first werewolves, the wolves who transformed into men, became extinct thanks to the new werewolves, the humans that transformed into wolves. And when there was no danger to be protected from the men turned against their werewolves and the man that transformed into wolves started to hide, but even if the men killed almost all the werewolves, sometimes, on a full moon night, a baby with a hairy mole is born and they call him “the little wolf”.

“That makes sense." Robin comments, taking some alcohol-free punch so red that her white teeth become red too “Witches do that.”

“What do they do?”

“They make mistakes and then try to do better enchantments. It’s like science.”

“It has nothing to do with science!” Mike retorts.

“Well, all you have to do is stay up until the witch hour, and then we can talk.” Robin replies, collecting the dirty plates.

“What’s witch hour?” Eleven asks, looking at the clock on Steve’s wall.

“Oh… it’s the terrible hour in which witches and sorcerers make their spells.”

“And how do you know what hours they make their spells?” Will asks, suddenly interested.

“I know exactly at what hours they do their spell because my great great great aunt was a witch!”

Lucas scoffs.

“What? Didn’t you know that? How do you think she manages to speak so many languages? Witchery.” Steve confirms “And her cat? Is black, isn’t it?”

“It’s just a coincidence.” Dustin affirms, crossing his arms.

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” Robin replies with a grin.

“Tell me more about the witch hour.” Eleven asks, getting closer.

“You must know that casting a spell it’s not an easy thing: to do so a witch has to find a place, in the middle of the woods, far from the other houses, where she can make a little fire for her cauldron.” she explains, moving her hands like she was stirring something “The most common place for a witch to brew her potions is a cave, because it keeps the wood dry and no one can see the light of the fire shining at night. They have big books that they pass down from mother to daughter that contain all their spells, but sometimes they need new ones, and that’s the moment in which they are more dangerous.” Robin continues “Because they have to test them. So if you are awake at night, when a witch just brewed her potion she could test her potion on you. My great great great aunt was famous for turning curious boys into rats, but one night she decided to try a new poison so she brewed it for two entire months and then she sang to the kids. The ones that were already asleep in their beds didn’t hear the song, but the ones who were up, stealing cookies or reading books, got enchanted and walked barefoot through the woods until they got to the cave and my great great great aunt finally got the last ingredient she needed for her new potion.”

“Which kind of potion was it?” Max asks.

“Oh, it was a mandrake-based potion, with a couple of crocodile’s eyes, a few grams of grasshopper, and… kids’ fingers.” Robin replies moving her fingers in front of Max’s eyes.

“Yes, but all that trouble for what?” Erica insists.

“I’m sorry, her book got lost, but if you are volunteering I could try to replicate the potion right now and we will finally find out what it does!” Robin grins, grabbing Erica’s hand and lifting her hand to her mouth, ready to bite her fingers off.

Erica screams and Robin laughs, letting her go.

“So, does anyone else know a scary story?”

Dustin takes the torch “I know a scary story! Scarier than yours, Robin!”

Robin nods, gets some candies from the plastic pumpkin in the middle of the table, and shrugs “Let’s hear your story.” She opens his hand and Steve gets a few candies, sharing them with his boyfriend. Robin makes a reck sound “The two of you are disgusting!”

“What? We can’t even share candies now?” Steve asks, annoyed.

“That’s all you are going to share? Because I’m sure you are going to share spit too.” Erica adds from her seat.

“Erica!” Lucas scolds him.

“What?! It’s just the facts!” she insists.

“She is not wrong, baby.” Robin replies, bumping her shoulder against Steve.

“Very mature Robin, very mature, and no, we are not going to do anything gross. We are going to listen to Dustin’s story. Aren’t we Eddie?”

“Sorry, what?” 

Steve sighs. They have smoked a couple of joints while the kids were trick and treating but now he is wondering if Eddie smoked more than a couple.

“I was saying that we are going to listen to Dustin’s story.”

“Oh yeah, scariest story I have ever heard.” Eddie nods, convinced.

“We haven’t even heard that!” Mike complains.

“It’s the Hess Farm story, isn’t it? The one in which…”

Dustin jumps from his seat “Stop it! I’m going to tell you! And yes. It’s that story.”

“Told you.” Eddie makes a face to Mike “Scariest story ever.”

“Well if you are going to let him tell his stupid story maybe I’ll agree.” Mike replies, sipping some Coca-Cola.

Dustin puts the torch under his face to lighten it.

“This is a story of murder and vengeance. Many, many years ago, in the Hess Farm lived a really poor family. They had eleven children.”

“Eleven?” El asks, suddenly interested.

“Yeah. Eleven. They were so poor that they couldn't feed them all, so one day the father of the family decided to take the youngest son to the woods and abandon him there, but while they were walking through the woods the father spotted a family of rabbits. He and his younger son caught a few of them and they came back home. Even if the father knew the hiding place of the rabbits, the meat was not enough and after a couple of weeks all the rabbits were dead and the family was still hungry. So the father took the young son even farther from their farm, but they spotted other rabbits and so they came back with more food and so on and so far until one day, neither the father nor the son came back from the woods.” Everyone leans toward Dustin, their attention totally captured by the story “So the next day two of the two older sons went to the woods and didn’t come back. The mother tried to cook some potatoes but it was not enough so she was forced to accept that the other three of his sons went to the woods searching for food and for their brothers. No one of them came back.”

“So the mother stopped sending stupid sons and went herself right?” Max intervenes, popping a bright pink bubble gum.

“Silence!” Dustin protests “The mother didn’t want to send the other sons but they were famished and they begged her mother to let them go, telling her that they would have gone all together.” Dustin pauses, looking at the others with an evil grin “That night, no one of her five sons came back, but in the middle of the night someone knocked at the door of the poor woman and when she opened the door in front of her there was the biggest rabbit she has ever seen. Its white fur was covered in blood and when he entered he placed on the table the dead bodies of the woman's sons and asked her to cook them for his family. The woman trembled and looked behind the big rabbit and saw many white rabbits with little fangs dripping blood.”

“Oh… that was scary!” Robin agrees, elbowing Steve “Wasn’t it scary?”

“A killer rabbit? Yeah, I guess.”

“Come on! How could you not be scared of a giant killer rabbit?!” Dustin whines.

“Ok, ok… that was a little bit scary. Better than Mike’s story anyway.”

“Hey, my story was super scary!” Mike protests.

“A pyramid of pumpkins? No, it was not.”

“Let me tell you a scary story.” Erica intervenes, getting comfortable on her chair “This is a story that will make your neck hair stand up and it’s not even a story.” she insists “When Lucas and I went to our grandmother's house she had an enormous spider in the attic. And this is real, you can search for it in your stupid books, she was huge! And she was eating her mate.”

“How do you know it was a she?” Dustin asks “Did you check if he had…”

“It was a she.” Lucas confirms “That kind of spider eats their male companion during… you know.”

“Oh.” Eddie turns toward Steve “Are you going to eat me, Stevie?”

Dustin stares at Eddie “What? Why should he…?”

“You don’t want to know too much about your parents' sex life. trust me. We don't have enough money to pay for a psychologist.” Eddie continues, smirking.

“Eddie!” Steve blushes at the implication while Robin fakes a gag.

“Please someone pierce my eardrums so that I don’t have to listen to all these stupid things.”

“Ok, so that was your story, Erica?” Steve gently asks.

“No,  that's not all. There was this huge spider web that occupied all the walls and in a corner, there were some bones, white and shiny. I’m sure she ate our grandma’s cat.”

Dustin sighs “Dart ate Mew too.”

Steve trembles remembering how he got into the basement with only a spiked bat in his hands and how their little plan to catch the demodog almost killed him and the three kids that were with him.

“You ok, baby?” Eddie whispers in his ear.

“Yeah… I’m just cold. I’ll go grab a sweater. Someone needs something from upstairs?”

“Are you going upstairs?” El asks, her eyes big with worry.

“I am. Do you need anything?”

“Don’t go.” she tells him, grabbing his hand “I know a scary story. Once you leave the room you are not going to come back.” she tells him.

“I’m just going upstairs El, I swear, I’ll be back in no time.”

She shakes her head and her grip on Steve’s hand becomes even tighter “Don’t leave.” she asks again and Steve can feel that she is trembling.

“You know what, I’ll go to the kitchen to bring the apple pie we made this afternoon and I’ll take the torch so you can see me and all of you will hold hands until I come back. It’s that ok?” Steve proposes and El nods, then she gently releases Steve’s arm and goes back to sit at her place between Robin and Max.

Once in the kitchen, Steve starts to make some hot chocolate for the kids. He would love to add some whipped cream and some sprinkles but the house is too dark and he doesn’t want to stay away for too long.

When he comes back he offers the pie and the chocolate to the kids.

“I know a scary story about chocolate.” Steve says, sipping some hot chocolate from his own cup “Well, chocolate seeds come from Aztecs, and when the first explorers got to America they offered them their sacred drink. The explorers found it so tasty that during the night they killed all the Aztecs to keep all the chocolate for themselves. When they finished the drink they found out that they weren't able to replicate the tasty drink, so they kidnapped a few Aztecs and put them to work: they had to collect the chocolate seeds and make hot chocolates for the explorers. 

One night, the youngest son of one of the Aztecs that were kidnapped, added a little bit of agave honey to the chocolate, and the explorers found it even tastier and asked for more.

What they didn't know was that the agave honey covered the taste of the poison the young boy was adding to their chocolate so, after a few days the explorers died in tremendous pain and as a punishment, the Aztecs covered them in chocolate and left their bodies to the animals."

"Jesus, babe. That was scary! Have you put any poison in our mugs?" Eddie whispers in the dark.

Steve smirks "You will find out soon enough, don't you think?"

Robin burst out in a laugh "No way, you will never poison your children. Munson? Maybe. The kids? Never. Switch your mug with mine, Dustin!"

"I'm not going to..."

"I know a scary story too." Max adds and everyone turns toward her "Once upon a time there was a crazy lady who wanted to be beautiful forever so she tried various methods. She bathed in milk on full moon nights and drank virgins' blood to preserve her beauty."

Eddie smirks "I guess she would have had plenty of choices in this room."

"Don't be an asshole!" Steve scolds him while he keeps grinning.

"Anyway... the villagers were tired of sacrificing their virgin sons and daughters to her, so one of the farmer women disguised as a witch and went to her castle, saying that she knew the perfect way to preserve her beauty. When the lady of the castle asked her what the secret method was, the woman took a black candle, lit it, and poured a little bit of wax on her own hand. When the wax got cold she removed it and let the lady caress the smooth skin, then she did the very same on the lady's hand and she was so impressed that she asked for more, but the false witch told her that it was a special candle that needed a long building process. So, for three months, all the villagers worked to make the big black magic candle. On the night of the lunar eclipse the farm woman came back with other men from the village, they helped the lady to lie in her bathtub and then they covered her body with the hot wax and the castle lady died in agony."

"Holy fucking shit! Remind me to never get on your bad side!" Lucas comments.

At that moment they hear electrical sounds and the lights turn on on their own.

"Look, the power is back." Steve says, then he turns toward the boys "Time to go home, kids. Who wants to get in the car with me and who wants to go with Eddie?"

The kids look at Steve with wide eyes.

"Are we leaving? What if it's witch hour?" El asks.

"She is not wrong..." Robin smirks and Steve sighs.

"Do you want to have a sleepover?" he asks and the kids nod eagerly "Fine, but call your parents and tell them you are sleeping here."

"We might have already told them?" Dustin murmurs with an innocent smile.

Steve groans but goes upstairs to get some blankets and pillows and Eddie helps him.

"Look at the bright side, Steve. Soon they will be too old to spend Halloween with their parents. Enjoy it while you can!"

Steve complains a little more, but when they end up sleeping in his living room altogether, he can't deny that the little feeling inside him is happiness.

[mourningcandles]

Oh, are we using ElenaA's Windswept OC Maker today? I already made an Idris with it, but I suppose I could always unscrunkle them...

...did you know they were a copy-editor on the Surface?

[strawbrryrush]

Closed starter for faye !! @hxartbreaker

Eric wasn't quite sure what had gotten into his lover, but he had a good idea it wasn't just her.. he felt the magic trying to interfer with him as well, if he wasn't about 1000 years old maybe it would've worked.. now here he was, running almost cowardly from his new girlfriend.. I mean he could've easily taken her out, given his strength.. but he knew he wouldnt; he was too madly in love with her and there was this loyatly.. this protection, while being hunted by her, he wanted to protect her from being prey.. as she came darting towards him, he knew he couldn't and shouldn't run any longer. "Faye, I keep telling you this isn't a good idea.. though I forget it's like talking to a wall.. fucking magic." He mumbled, "i don't know what it'll take to knock you out of this, but if you want to kill me it's going to take a lot more than your little witchy spells." He added seeing the fire in her eyes, fangs couldn't help but to shoot out.. "I thought you were different than the witches who slaughtered my people. Got to say you're doing a piss poor job of showing it." His words were venom maybe he wasn't doing as good as he thought at defeating this curse.. but nonetheless he knew he had control, if he truly had been seeing red.. Faye would stand no more, "so." the vampire stated, adjusting his composure, "what will it be, I'm kind of not feeling a fight to the death.. I don't want to kill you, and i know deep down you don't want to kill me.. but it seems like you're kind of leaving me no choice." He stated, a harshness in his words.. though maybe it was to mask his hurt, that it would come down to him or her.. he knew deep down he'd happily sacrifice himself for her, if it meant she'd live.. a thousand years was long enough.. he already lost godric and his sister, why should he take more loss??

[sayaberry]

throwing my (santa) hat into the ring the christmas lim this year is gonna be sayaka, not only that but it’ll be a nutcracker prince themed one

i believe this is because:

all the holy quintet girls (sans nagisa, but she is also on the table but less likely) have gotten a new lim unit this year except sayaka, so she’s up for one

sayaka already has a haregi unit so she can’t be the new years lim, leaving christmas as her only chance

nutcracker themed event would be fun AND would fit amazingly with sayaka’s prince/hero aesthetic she has going on

new sayaka lim is exactly what i expect the devs to do to make me suffer right before the holidays

[faithandfairies]

You know, I've thought about this some more and I came up with another scenario. Because I kept thinking about Lestat revealing that in order for him to die he has to be willing.

So keeping that in mind it makes more sense for Louis to be the one to kill him. Because I don't see Lestat cooperating in his own murder if it's Claudia killing him, not Louis. And then I thought "Unless he's being blackmailed."

So if we still work within the frame of mind that Claudia poisoned Louis, and let's say she realizes Lestat can't be killed unless he goes along with it maybe because he tells her, I could see her threatening to kill Louis if Lestat didn't cooperate in his own murder. And Lestat allowing Claudia to kill him because it's not a risk he's willing to take. Even though there is no way Claudia would kill Louis.

You know, I can't wait to see their re-visit of Murder Night. Because there's so much that doesn't add up. I wonder if we'll find out that Claudia did in fact kill Lestat. And that there wasn't much Louis could do about it. Or if they'll leave the events mostly as we've seen.

We already know that a lot of Murder Night as Louis initially explains it to Daniel is Louis' fever dream. The question is where does it start? Because after Daniel realizes that Louis isn't telling him the entire truth and goads Louis into being honest with him we get two flashes of Louis' actual memories of that night, him choking Claudia to get it through to her that he won't allow her to burn Lestat and him screaming over Lestat's dead body.

And it's really making me wonder for how much of Lestat's death Louis was actually there and present for. If he was there for any of it.

Because there's so much that doesn't make sense about Louis' version of events:

-Claudia tells Louis beforehand she'll pull Louis back before she kills him. She kills Lestat. But then she's not even in the room as Louis kills him? We also know that Claudia had no problem with killing him, through Daniel.

-Through the trial we get a direct quote from Claudia's diary "I will be your angel of death, Lestat". And it's supposed to be just her fantasizing about murdering him as she's planning it but it just sounds like something she might actually say as she murders him as well.

-Louis also makes a pretty small slice in Lestat's throat and then let's go of him pretty unceremoniously and we're supposed to believe that was the extent of Lestat's murder. But why do it like that? Why not make the slice bigger? Or simply behead him? We know Louis couldn't, but how much of it was because he couldn't because he loves Lestat and how much of it might have been because of something else? If we consider that is what the slice in Lestat's neck truly ended up looking like?

-We also never see Lestat's death. We never hear his last words according to Claudia so we're definitely missing parts of that night.

-There are also pages missing in Claudia's diary that could involve her speaking on that night.

-And another thing, when Claudia leaves the room leaving Louis with Lestat I don't think it's her intention at all not to be the one to kill Lestat. She actually leaves Louis and Lestat alone to say their goodbyes.

So here's what I think. I think Claudia knew she would never get Louis so far to actually kill Lestat. She knew she would have to do it. And Louis would have to be out of the way, at least temporarily, otherwise he would try to stop her. She also tells Louis that she poisoned one of the twins for Lestat to consume. But the thing is that a lie always works better if there's truth to it.

I think Claudia actually poisoned both twins and had Louis feed on one to get him out of the way temporarily as she killed Lestat. The question is what happened after? Did Louis start to try to kill Lestat because he thought it should be him and could he not finish the job? Did he pass out from having been poisoned as he was dawdling?

Or did Louis pass out during the goodbye, having no intention of Lestat getting his throat slit and being burned? Did he come to as Claudia was slitting Lestat's throat and unceremoniously get her off of him during, which is why the slice looks jagged and unfinished?

Was he too late? Is that why he missed Lestat's last words? Or did Lestat say them as Louis was fighting off and trying to restrain Claudia? Was that when the choking and the argument about needing to burn him happened? Did Claudia betray Louis because she felt she had no other choice? And did he return the favor when he proved her right by choosing Lestat over her, refusing to finish him?

[angabby-zzz]

Daphne is the person danny would be like “thank god i finally found a normal person in this group (or town)” about only to find out shes just as if not more into the weirdness of the place as everyone else is

[fluffle-writes]

Wanna make something heavily inspired by the story and gameplay style of Return of the Obra Dinn but I can't make games so at the moment I'm just blocking out ideas and shit to see if my thoughts could actually make a viable story

[bunnis-monsters]

Yandere vampire x chubby reader

A/N: this is a request for my 5K event! I am doing ALL requests I get within the next 24 hours, send one while you can!

“What did I tell you about leaving the manor grounds, my dear?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your captor placed his arm around your plump waist, his face nuzzling its way into your neck.

“I-I just wanted something from the bakery… I heard they were selling my favorite pastry today…” you said in a half lie. While it was true that the bakery sold your favorite pastry, that’s not the reason you had been trying to leave.

You wanted to escape.

“Oh, my love…”

He purred against your throat, his fangs grazing your neck. “You should have told me… I could have sent one of my servants to fetch it for you. Tell me what you would like, and I’ll buy all of it for you…”

So now you sat in his arms, munching on your favorite pastry as he drank from your neck and fucked into you.

He was never quite able to drink from you without his cock sinking into your cunt, and he loved to watch you eat and enjoy food that he couldn’t. It was all suck a turn on for him.

You cute chubby cheeks full of food, your tummy growling when you were hungry… it made him remember when he was human himself.

He bounced you on his cock, his finger tracing over your belly. “My little angel… you need to stay right here, where you’re safe and well taken care of…”

——————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y

[leth-writes]

yandere batfam x reader who's scared of them

BRUCE

If you don’t know he’s batman, he’s absolutely confused. He doesn’t really understand how you could be terrified of his civilian identity, who is notably soft and ditzy. It’s hard for you to explain how scary it is, looking at his smiling face in the middle of a gala and feeling this ice running down your spine, the deepest, basest part of you just screaming at you that there’s something wrong with him. It’s the way his emotions don’t reach his eyes, those cold, calculating eyes… It feels to you that he’s, at any given time, calculating how likely he is to get away with you murder.

That isn’t what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about how angry he is that everyone’s not treating you with the respect you deserve; he’s seen more consideration given to a coatrack! He’s contemplating yelling at your parent(s) to get them to realize how uncomfortable you are. That paternal sense just jumps right out and he’s wishing violence on anyone who would dare to so much as breathe at you wrong. You can see the promise of violence brewing on his face, you just mistake who it’s targeted at. He promises he would never hurt you.

Being frightened of batman is a lot more understandable, he is quite creepy. He tends to blend in with the shadows, and having a vigilante running around beating people senseless can be pretty terrifying. If he catches you being robbed, for example, Dick’s going to have to pull him off of whoever hurt you before he sends them into a coma. Seeing all that blood flying is definitely pretty scary.

However, Batman also serves as a protector for the city, especially children, and he does view you as a child, no matter your age. You’re his child, and he’d never want to scare you, so he exaggerates his movements and puts a bit of noise in his step so he’s less likely to scare you

He also gets Damian to approach you; while Damian may not be the typical child, he’s more than capable of acting young and vulnerable and that brings down your guard, allowing Bruce to ingratiate himself with you. Damian’s just excited to be close to you, he doesn’t even care you’re babying him and giving him stickers. He wears them with pride and shows every one to Alfred and his various animals.

DICK

Everyone is so confused as to how you could find Dick, smiley, jokey Dick, so scary. He’s so kind and gentle, perfect with children… maybe it’s the way you can see right through that facade into the intelligent seething rage boiling away within him. People often forget that Dick, as a young child, was more than willing to commit murder. He’s grown a lot since then, but sometimes that rage peaks through, terrifying you. You can also tell the bruises aren’t from sex or gymnastics like he says when the paparazzi ask, but from fights. You haven’t heard anything about the people he got into a fight in, which leads you to believe they never got up again. You’re wrong, but you can definitely feel the violence pulsing just underneath his skin. Every vigilante has it, you’re just able to sense it.

As Nightwing, he’s used to people asking him for selfies or yelling at him to do a backflip. He isn’t used to people trembling, terrified, in a corner as he approaches. You seem to view him as a dangerous vigilante, an extension of the Bat, first and foremost. Dick has to work hard to get you to trust him; he purposefully messes up some of his fights just so you think he isn’t as dangerous as he is, and he doesn’t let you in on the fact that the escrima have electricity. It puts you at ease if you think he would have a hard time taking you down. He relies on that goofy aspect of himself, pulling it up more than he normally would, almost tapping into that little circus performer who he buried deep down so many years ago.

JASON

Yeah, he gets it. His reputation, while useful, does preceed him. He’s heard the rumours; that he’s a zombie, a vampire, a ghoul, some creature back from the dead to kickstart some apocalyptic event. He usually finds it laughable, but seeing how terrifying you are does hit him hard.

He’s done so much to bury who he used to be, but for you, he taps into that side of him. He reads Jane Austen in public, volunteers at homeless shelters that he normally only donates to, anything to give himself a softer image. He even lets his hair keep its natural curls, letting them grow out slightly, to give him a softer silhouette. He also starts dressing more like Bruce; soft sweaters tucked into his pants, accentuating the pretty streak of white in his hair.

He’s also more than aware of how scary his scars can be, and tries his best to distract you away from them; for a little while, you rarely see him fully face-on, he turns his head just slightly so you can’t see them as clearly.

The Red Hood is terrifying. He’s aware, he knows, he’s dealing with it for you. He stops with the killing almost entirely and spends more time just patrolling your neighborhood, trying to get you used to the positives his presence is associated with. He lets Clark finally publish those positive stories about him saving a kitten or something, all to rehabilitate his image. He doesn’t care that his reputation is taking a hit, he only cares about you not being terrified of him.

TIM

???

Tim isn’t used to people being scared of him. Plenty of people are intimidated by his ruthless businessman act, but he never uses that around you. He tends to play up that scrawny, dorky nerd side of him; most view him like a little vulnerable puppy, not a threat!

You can probably sense that analytical presence behind his eyes. Tim, while technically being the most hands-off, is also the one who does the most meddling behind the scenes. He’s working to get rid of those shitty friends, blackmailing them away from you, and making sure to surround you with people he trusts, particularly Cass, Kon, and Steph. They talk him up, but more importantly, he knows they’ll keep you safe if he can’t.

You can probably tell your new friends are hiding something, and you sense that Tim is at the center. You’re not entirely wrong. Like Jason, he dresses in soft, cozy clothing and spends hours practicing his soft, gentle smiles, all in the hopes of you thinking him too weak and exhausted to be a threat.

He’s had criminals dislike him as Red Robin, but most civilians either appreciate him or ignore him. Most opinions are actually quite lukewarm, as while he does play a role in policing crime, he works more in the background solving cases and using his computer and photography skills. He makes sure to be seen being soft to children and animals more, maybe even volunteers in suit at an animal shelter, all in the hopes you’ll see that caring heart shining through.

CASS

Cass is so soft in public no one could ever be scared of that side of her unless they’ve already been kidnapped, in which case she slowly wears them down by having her family talk her up and by being the one to bring in gifts and food, creating a strong association between her and those good feelings of stress relief. Works like a charm, especially because you learn to read her; then, you learn to read the softness in her smile and her posture, showing that kind heart.

in stark contrast, plenty of people are scared of Black Bat, including civilians. Her normal silent presence and lack of facial expression can come across quite creepy. There’s no way around that, so she only introduces you to her secret identity after you’ve been kidnapped.

[yourfriendowlbear]

Protection (Astarion headcanons)

Astarion x gn!Tav

Summary: Astarion notices how you've protected him over the years.

Warnings: brief mention of manipulation; murder; small act 3 spoilers; brief mention of nightmares

Note: this is my first astarion piece I'm posting! let me know if you'd like to see more headcanons, or if you have something you'd like to request

He’s watching you adjust a curtain to block out the afternoon sun from the drawing room when he realizes it. 

You spend so much energy protecting him. In big and small ways.

Just now, you’re balanced on top of a stool, fighting with the thick cloth to get it to lay just right over the window just so that he can feel comfortable in the home you share together.

But really, you’ve been doing it since the beginning. Looking out for him whether you realized it or not.

You’d been so willing to protect him from the intellect devourer that he'd made up to manipulate you. Hadn’t even thought about it, just sprung into action because he’d asked for help.

And then, only a short time later, you’d protected him from the Gur Hunter. You’d followed his lead, allowed him to pace the conversation. And then, when it was clear what needed to be done, you’d killed the Gur, an arrow loosened from your bow piercing the hunter’s throat.

Countless battles, you’d fought by his side, felling enemies before they got too close, tossing him healing potions when his injuries were too egregious.

You’d even plotted out a damn near-perfect strategy for taking down Cazador, spent countless nights reading ancient scrolls in the Devil’s Fee and padded the pockets of more dark wizards than Astarion could count to arm yourself with as much information as you could gather.

And when you were in Cazador’s chambers, your plan was put into motion. He hadn’t been particularly happy about hanging back, but when the fight started and Cazador still hadn't seen him, Astarion was glad for your thorough mind.

He did notice, just as Lae’zel went in for the first blow, that you’d placed yourself directly in Cazador’s path, blocking him bodily from accessing Astarion. Of course, there was no way you could stand up to the vampire master’s magic, but the barrier stood as a warning–Cazador would not get to Astarion easily.

You make sure his tea is the perfect temperature, make sure he’s well-fed, keep him company, bring him more books when he desires.

And when the nightmares plague his rest, your touch is gentle as an angel’s as you stroke his hair and try to lull him back to calm.

There are tomes on the table in your bedroom, ancient, dusty things that tell of events long forgotten. You’d heard a drunk orc make mention of a ring that allows vampires and drow to walk in the sun, and that was all it took to set you off on another quest to defend him–this time, from nature itself.

The stool wobbles under you, and lightning quick, Astarion is there to steady you. His hands find your hips just as the stool tips over and he’s able to brace you and let you down gently.

Maybe he protects you, too.

[lizardkingeliot]

I took a ton of notes during my rewatch of 2x07 just now but the thing I kept coming back to again and again was Armand's framing of the entire narrative and how it plays with truth vs lies in such an insidious way it's honestly brilliant in its cruelty. Truth being used as a cudgel not only against Louis, but against Lestat as well. And against, us, the viewers at home.

We obviously all know Armand is a very powerful 500 year old vampire who is not going to be held back by an infant of a vampire like Santiago. Like… Armand. Babe. Let’s get real. But that’s the narrative set-up. The coven, now being led by Santiago, has Armand captive behind his little rickety baby gate with Sam and his prop weapon not letting the puppy come out to play. He cannot prevent it! Poor baby. Someone get him a juice box and a snack.

Enter Lestat. The vengeful lover come to make Louis and Claudia pay for what they did to him. What's interesting here is that everyone—Daniel, Louis, Armand—acknowledges in Dubai that the trial IS a sham from the beginning. A tool to allow Lestat his revenge. But the truth of why it's actually a sham is being hidden behind a thousand layers of gaslighting and deceit by Armand. Lestat is merely another prop on the stage. Being forced to use the TRUTH of his love story with Louis—and to twist essential elements of their beginning as a couple—as a weapon to drive the final wedge between them so that Armand might have Louis all to himself. That's what this is about. A farce so that Armand might have what he wants more than anything in the world. Someone who will be with him always. Without Claudia, without Lestat... who else is there for Louis to run to?

The trial as we see it is told mostly through Louis' POV. It seems to be a true picture of how it all happened but the cognitive dissonance watching him try to reconcile what Lestat was doing on the stage with the framing provided by Armand (who cuts in frequently to assure us that Lestat shapes things to suit HIS narrative) is painful. Louis sees and feels and hears the sincerity of Lestat. A Lestat who is defiant from the jump and refuses to paint the story as butchery. It's about LOVE. It is always always always about the love. An entire sham trial about vengeance and murder framed around... love.

Everyone who's familiar with the books already knows Lestat didn't want to be there. I won't go into that too much but the show did a good job of showing us just how unwell Lestat was during the entire process. But there are also some really interesting moments where we are TOLD explicitly through Louis' recounting of the events that Lestat was not actually there for revenge. Namely, the moment when Lestat says HE deserves to be punished alongside them. These are not the words of someone who is seeking vengeance. These are the words of someone desperately rattling the bars of his own cage trying everything he can to prevent what's happening. Because unlike a certain someone, in that moment Lestat is quite literally unable to prevent it!

The entire episode is Louis trying to reconcile the conflicting truths that exist inside him: that Lestat was there for revenge, that Armand couldn't prevent the coven from exacting their cruelty, and that the Lestat who was on stage WAS sincere and emotional and fighting with everything he had to let the truth ring as true as it was when he was able. He refused to refer to Louis as the accused every time Santiago insisted on it. He would only refer to Louis by name. He would NOT allow the narrative to frame him as someone who didn't also do monstrous things to his lover. He was weeping and flooded with shame. Sincerely, genuinely remorseful for the awful thing he had done to Louis.

There's also something else here about Lestat acknowledging he tried to crush what he could not own vs Armand deceiving Louis into the false sense of control that is the entire basis for their relationship. Owning something he does not crush, merely confines. He's not crushing Louis with insanity, he's locking him inside his prison of empathy. He quite literally has Louis locked in a cage while allowing him to believe he's truly free. Free from the insanity of Lestat. Evil, vengeful, gaslighting Lestat who only uses the truth to shape the narrative for himself.

There's a lot more going on here. I can't possibly get it all out of my brain right now and I imagine I'm going to be picking apart the nuances for a while. There are so many layers. The truth vs lies vs intentional reshaping of the truth of it all. But if you rewatch, pay attention to Armand's face, the score that accompanies his recounting of events, the passive way in which he holds his body in both Paris and Dubai. He's locking Louis in a dream world where the truth is present in such a way it only serves to amplify its own distortion. I don't even think he's fucking with Louis' memory all that much, just framing it in such a way that Louis cannot see past what is right there in front of him. What he already knows. If only he had just a few more tiny pieces of the puzzle...

But he's trying to get there. He is getting there. The truth of Lestat is breaking though. Lestat is still present there with him in Dubai, as real as if he were really in the room. After 74 years, Louis can still recall every detail of his face, still smile at him recalling the truth of his memories. The truth he wouldn't allow himself to look at all the way. The truth he himself had to distort for his own sake because it hurt too much. He's allowing himself to see not only the truth of himself and his own actions, but the truth of Lestat. All the complicated, sincere truth of him. The truth of the one who truly could not prevent it.

[toournextadventure]

when you love it

Summary: When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it - Caitlyn Siehl

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, suggestive themes, blood mention, hurt no comfort (hopeful ending), extreme guilt Pairing: Wenclair x Vampire!Reader (part 2)

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Your fangs caught on your lip as you did your best not to smile. With the slightest turn of your body, you patted your client on the shoulder and congratulated him for getting off on murder. He was guilty as sin. You could practically smell the tainted blood coursing through his veins. It was abysmal; he was a horror to work with. Doubtless he would be murdered before he even left the courthouse.

His money was still just as good as anyone else’s.

The judge continued his usual spiel, the one you personally had heard many times over. Something about understanding the severity of the charges, how one must persevere to become more, to prevent such a situation from occurring again. She was getting much more emotional about the speech, putting more of a motherly spin on it. It was a lovely touch.

It wouldn’t work. But it was lovely.

“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble,” you said once the judge was finished and you could shake your client’s hand.

His smile was sinister. “I’ll be calling on you again.”

You made sure to show your fangs in your own smile. “I’ll be expecting it.”

The man gave you the creeps, more so than most of the clients you represented. Which was precisely why you allowed your shadow to escort him out of the courthouse to the freedom he had unjustly earned. You watched as he left with a smile that betrayed your actual thoughts.

If he called again, your rates would double.

“You did your job masterfully.”

You turned around, watching people continue to mill out of the courtroom. No one was facing you, not even the usual suspects. Even your best friend Detective Faus had already left. There was no one left to talk or discuss the events of the case. A pity.

Maybe it had been another hallucination; they were more frequent this time of year. Sounds of blood spilling, pouring down your throat like the first drink at the bar. The door opening, muffled words, wood splintering. The sounds made themselves known in your mind, drowning out everything else around you.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

No. No, that was no hallucination. You looked down to see a young man no older than 20 - though his spectacular mustache looked a bit old for him - standing beside you. It was no wonder you hadn’t noticed him, he was rather short. With a stunning crop of slicked back raven black hair, he reminded you of someone. Someone you did your best to forget.

“Thank you, mister…,” your voice trailed off.

“Pubert Addams,” he said with a charming smile as he held out his hand toward you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

A wet gasp-

-a snarl-

-relief-

-pain-

“-A pleasure, Mr. Addams,” you said, grasping his hand as gently as you possibly could. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while.”

“I believe you knew my sister and her wife in college, did you not?” He asked as he let go of your hand.

A breathy moan-

-airy laughter-

-a warm sigh-

“-Quite a long time ago,” you said, “but yes.”

“Yes, I knew it was you,” he said with a smile that was far too familiar. Eerily so. “Are you free for a short while?” He asked. “I have a proposition for you.”

You sighed and shifted the weight to your good leg. It left an ache that rarely eased, though certainly not for lack of trying. Thanks to the glasses, you were confident your distrust was hidden. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the young Addams boy; he seemed decent enough. You had worked with enough sleazy people to know who to trust and who to be wary of.

There was just the little problem of not wanting anything to do with an Addams.

Though, you supposed you could give the boy the benefit of the doubt. After all, what would it hurt? If he was anything like Wednesday - and it was beyond clear he was - he would love the danger. The thrill of propositioning you would far outweigh the danger of having you near. A brave boy.

Just like his older sister.

“I suppose I have time,” you finally said with a toothy grin. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” he said quickly as he fell into step beside you. Exactly like his sister.

“A coffee then,” you amended.

He had no objections.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked out of the courtroom with you. The stench of rancid blood filled your senses before you saw the commotion outside. Your client’s body lay sprawled along the steps, his blood flowing from the tips of his fingers; no one dared try to stop the bleeding. At the bottom, the police were shoving the victim’s brother into their cruiser.

“An eye for an eye turns the whole world blind,” Mr. Addams said with a shake of his head.

You didn’t dare hide your smile. “A beautiful sentiment.” You continued to walk past the scene, not looking back to see if Mr. Addams was following.

His footsteps quickened their pace to match yours before he stood beside you once again. It was a short, silent walk to the little cafe you had started to call your own. The barista was a wonderful young girl; she had easily fallen victim to the vampire charm you did your best not to throw around. Though you were a little less careful nowadays, but that was your little secret.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” The young waitress asked once you sat down. She, too, had fallen victim to your supernatural charm.

“A quad?” You asked once Mr. Addams sat across from you at the little table in the corner.

“Heavens no,” he said with his own charming smile, “I’ll take a mocha, thank you.”

“An espresso, darling,” you said with a smile at the waitress.

Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll have it for you in a moment.”

You tried not to mention your surprise at the young Addams going against what his older sister had made seem like tradition. Or perhaps she had changed over the years; it was a possibility she had come to enjoy the sweeter things in life. After all, Enid certainly did, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She always had been a lovestruck fool for Enid.

So were you.

You promptly ignored the thought.

“What is your proposition, Mr. Addams?” You asked as you continued to wait for your drinks.

“Ah, of course,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I would like to invite you to a soiree we happen to be hosting.”

“I’m nothing but a stranger to you,” you said simply. “What about me warrants an invitation?”

“My sister and her wife still talk of you,” he said. “Incessantly.” His smile was gentle; genuine. “I believe inviting you would make them happy.”

You didn’t grace that thought with a reply. If they still talked of you, that was their issue. Wednesday was certainly psychotic enough to desire your presence. Enid, also, could certainly be delusional enough. Seeing you again should bring them no sense of joy or peace; if anything, it should cause nightmares.

It didn’t matter that you often found yourself thinking of them in return. When you talked with clients who had a penchant for breaking the law, much like Wednesday. Committing their crimes guiltlessly for one reason or another. There was a difference in that Wednesday always had a good reason - even when you tried to make her believe she didn’t - but that could be easily overlooked when her cold brown eyes appeared in your mind.

And Enid was often seen in the young intern at your firm. Possessing a giddiness that was so often lost in people. Her colourful nails that you had been unable to forbid were like a flash of the past. The only difference was those nails were typing away at a computer instead of leaving scratches along your back. It was difficult, on occasion, to differentiate the two.

The waitress set the drinks on the table, giving you a wink and smile in the process. You smiled back, showcasing your fangs as she turned and walked back to the counter. If Mr. Addams hadn’t accompanied you, you would have flirted with the woman. Flashed a bit of cash, invited her home for a quick drink of your own before sending her back on her way.

You stirred your espresso for no good reason. At least it gave you time to think of your answer. Mr. Addams was gracious enough not to push. A wonderful change of pace from Wednesday, who would push until she regretted it. Which she had. Oh, she had, and you had all suffered for it.

There was no way you could tell Mr. Addams why you wanted to decline his invitation. If you even so much as hinted at the carnage you had caused, there was a high probability he would not only rescind his offer, but paint you as the monster you had already claimed for yourself. With good reason, of course, you hadn’t earned the title by sitting around.

On the other hand, just the mere thought of seeing Enid and Wednesday made your dead heart feel alive again. You had done your best to fill your nights with women. One after the other, never keeping them long enough to even learn their names. Each a new attempt to forget the two women who had taken your heart all those years ago. They never filled the hole; if anything, they made it bigger.

Perhaps…

“When is this little soiree of yours taking place?” You asked with a sigh, finally looking up from your espresso.

Now that smile was identical to his sister’s.

“I’ll fetch you the invitation.”

—---

You stood on the balcony of your apartment. Smoke curled around your fingers as the cigarette rested between them. The heat from the lit end was almost unbearable on your skin; it was a welcome feeling. City lights twinkled around you, creating constellations yet unnamed by the human race. Perhaps one day they would be prominent enough to fit in with the constellations of old.

It was the night before the soiree at the Addams residence. You had done your best to remain in control of your emotions the days leading up to it. Hell, you had even gone so far as to hire a few women just a few hours earlier to keep your thirst in check. You would rather receive a stake to the heart than risk another incident like the one that had created this situation in the first place.

And yet, even with all your preparations, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had carved a home into the center of your chest.

The balcony door slid open.

“You coming back, baby?” The woman asked.

It was a shame you didn’t remember her name.

“Come on, baby,” she said, and you felt warm arms wrap around your waist. “I know you want another drink.”

You did. God you did. Just the thought of another drink left your throat searing. You tried to swallow, but all it did was burn like liquid fire trickling down your throat. With a sigh, you lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. If you were going to be in pain, you may as well finish off your cigarette.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” you said with an exhale that left smoke falling from your lips.

The warmth left your waist as she went back inside, and you heard her talking to… the… other woman. God, you really needed to learn the names of the people you drank from. If anything, it was the least you could do; it was polite. But you didn’t particularly care. All you knew was they weren’t Enid, and they weren’t Wednesday.

You were pathetic.

You took one more drag of your cigarette, feeling the heat burn the skin on your knuckles. The thick smoke left the taste of ash on your tongue and did nothing to ease the scorching pain in your throat. You dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with your heel. You hissed when it singed your heel; you had forgotten you were barefoot.

If you had possessed any sort of soul, you would have felt guilt. There was something tugging on your invisible heart strings, begging you to care about the women you were surrounding yourself with. No, that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t something tugging at your heart strings; it was two voices that had haunted you for years.

They single handedly ruined your night. With no shame and no clue that they had even done so, they had ruined it. The women around you weren’t the right women. Their skin was soft, but it wasn’t the same. Their freckles were in the wrong spots, and their nails and hair were the wrong colour. Each and every moan was the wrong tone, and these women just weren’t right.

It was a struggle, but by the time the night was over, you had more than gotten your fill. There was no possible way you would still be thirsty by the time you made it to the Addams residence. Though that didn’t stop you from grabbing a blood bag from the fridge and tucking it into your pocket before you left your apartment.

You stopped by the mirror in your hall to make sure you looked alright. It was custom made to not contain any silver, allowing you to see at least a semblance of your reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was like looking at someone through water. A little blurry, slightly distorted, but you could tell it was a person.

Your eyes were drawn to the dark scars that weren’t entirely hidden by your shirt collar. The majority of the scars were hidden, but not those. They were a stark contrast on your neck; a stark reminder of your monstrosity. Subconsciously, you lifted your hand to run your fingers over the taut flesh. They still ached.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

You recoiled as if burned. Out of all the times you could have that memory, this wasn’t the optimal day. It didn’t require any consideration before you walked back to the fridge and grabbed a second bag, placing it right beside the first within your jacket. You had one shot; you weren't going to blow it.

It was a beautiful day outside as you approached the Addams mansion. The sky was overcast, almost allowing you to take your glasses off. Not that you would have, but it would have been a nice option to have. Large groups of people made their way up the steps and into the mansion. It truly was a stunning building; you had missed it.

You fell into the back of a group, ensuring you were silent and could walk in unnoticed. Yes, of course someone would notice eventually, but you wanted a chance to settle back into the excessively large house. The smell of the slightly-rotting wood was enough to ease your racing pulse. It smelled like home.

While everyone continued to slowly make their way into the ballroom, you went the opposite direction. Your hand trailed against the walls, maneuvering around each and every item that was hanging. The paintings and knick knacks and more recent looking photos. Some were new, or at least newer than you. They certainly hadn’t been hanging on the wall the last time you had visited.

The idle chatter of the crowd started to fade the further you went.The hallway turned into a slightly larger room filled with framed photos and awards. You let your fingers hover over the nameplates on the awards. Spelling Bee, First Place. A smile tugged at your lips as you moved on. Silver, Figure Skating. Down and down the line, you looked at award after award. There were names underneath, but you didn’t waste your time looking at them.

After the awards were the photos. You picked up the first one with gentle hands; a wedding photo deserved care. It was no surprise to see Wednesday in black and Enid in something so bright it was almost blinding. The image alone had your chest aching. They looked rather happy.

Their happiness didn’t distract you from the scars down the side of Enid’s face. The ones that traveled from the corner of her eyes to her jaw. Based on the colour in the photo, they were freshly healed. You couldn’t see Wednesday’s; she had a black lace wrapped around her wrist. From the look of Enid’s, you could imagine.

You set the frame back down on the table and stepped back. The curiosity had disappeared, quickly replaced with something heavy. With a tight chest, you backed out of the room and made your way to the ballroom with everyone else. The slight limp in your step worsened. A sigh fell from your lips as you had to lean against the wall and reach down to tighten the brace. Your jaw clenched almost painfully as the brace became insufferably tight around your leg, but at least it gave you the ability to stand on your own once again.

Until you were nearly knocked over by children running down the hall.

“Excuse me!” One of them called back. A chorus of the same words were quick to follow as the other children ran after the first.

“Behave!” You froze. “And don’t push people!”

“Yes ma’am!” The children shouted.

If you had known you would have such a visceral reaction just to her voice, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. You had no idea your body itself would react to her voice. If you could sweat, you would have been. Your fingers twitched. Don’t turn, your mind told you. Begged, even. Desperate, feral, pathetic.

“Cara mia.” You forced yourself to take a step. “You forgot your shawl upstairs.”

Don’t turn around, your mind said. It was frantic. You forced another step. And another. Each one heavier than the last, as if your body was fighting with your mind. You truly were a fool to accept the invitation, and there wasn’t even a word to describe yourself for actually daring to appear. Stupid. That was the best word.

“Are you a vampire?”

You sighed and took a moment to calm your emotions before looking down. One of the children that had been running around was now standing beside you, looking up at you with bright eyes and a cocked head. It reminded you of- no, you wouldn’t think of that. You turned to face the child and shifted your weight to rest on your good leg.

“I am,” you said with a singular nod of your head. “And you are?”

“Oh,” they said with a smile. A large, wolfish smile. “I’m an Addams.”

You were thankful they couldn’t see your eyes. “Charmed.”

Of course they were an Addams. How could you ever think differently? The Addamses were magnets for trouble, and you didn’t have to know the child to deduct that they were, in fact, trouble. You turned away from them and looked back out into the ballroom.

“My mothers have a picture of you on their nightstand,” the child continued.

You wished they would leave.

“But you have scars, and the person in their picture doesn’t.”

You would have no shame in killing a child.

“My momma has scars too.” It would be simple. “They almost match yours.”

“Don’t harass the guests, dear.” 

Or perhaps you would simply kill yourself. It would certainly be less painful than whatever was about to happen. You could hear the echo of your dead heart beating loudly in your ears. Perhaps if you refused to turn around, she would continue walking. Walk right past you and into the crowd, leaving you behind as you so very much deserved.

But she didn’t continue walking as you desperately wished she would. She didn’t move out into the crowd, saying her greetings to the others as was customary. You could barely hear her footsteps at all above the incessant noise that you were wishing would get louder. Drown out all the thoughts and emotions bubbling up inside you.

“We weren’t sure you would come.”

You still refused to turn around. Even when you felt her sidle up next to you, her arm brushing lightly against yours. Oh, her warmth was glorious. You had forgotten just how lovely it was to feel her warming you up. To bring life to your soul in a way that only she was capable of. No amount of women in your bed had ever held a candle to her warmth.

“You look good.” Her voice was impossibly soft against the rising chaos of the soiree.

Growls and screaming echoed in your mind’s ear as you finally made the brave - or stupid - decision to turn your head. If you had thought your anxiety was bad before, you would have been impressed with your anxiety at that moment. The first thing your eyes took notice of were the healed, lightly coloured scars on her jaw.

The scars you had caused.

“You look healthy,” Enid said with a soft smile.

She looked so very grown. That childish glint in her eyes was still present, but she held herself with far more respect. The insecurity had long faded away, much like the scars that continued down her neck. The child was right; you almost matched.

“I fed before arriving,” you said. Your words felt like ash in your mouth. “No need for history to repeat itself.”

“We have more in the kitchen,” she said quickly. “If you need it.”

You opened your coat to show the two bags in the pocket. “I came prepared, thank you.”

She smiled a closed mouth smile and nodded before looking back out at the ballroom. That heavy feeling settled in your chest once again. After so many years, that was all you had to say to her? That you had fed already? Of course, that was probably the one thing she wanted to hear after so long. You were a fool. A damned fool.

“I hope the kids weren’t bothering you,” Enid said. “They get excited when we host gatherings.”

“They seem decent,” you said. Decent?? That’s the best you can come up with? “That one-” you pointed to the one with the bright eyes “-is rather talkative.”

Enid giggled, and for a moment, you felt young again. “Willa says she gets it from me.”

Willa. You could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. Wednesday had always attempted to claim she hated it. Yet it never stopped the lightest blush on her cheeks when you or Enid would use the unassuming nickname. When was the last time you had even heard it?

Come on, Willa, put it down, I’m being serious.

You turned your body ever so slightly. You didn’t want Enid to see the scars creeping down your neck. Her hand brushed against yours. It was shameful how quickly you pulled your hand back, shoving it into your pocket. No good could come from her feeling the shake of your hand, or the scars that hid below the cloth of your clothes.

“Oh, there she is,” Enid said, this time reaching out to grab your arm a little harder than she probably meant to. “Stay right here, I’ll bring her over!”

The moment she left your side, the cold started to crawl back over your skin. It sunk into every vessel, every inch of your body, both inside and out. Attending the soiree was a mistake. A mistake that you couldn’t take back. Just like that night. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. You could leave before they came back and continue your miserable existence as you had been.

But then you saw them together, hand in hand. It was an unexpected thing to see Wednesday practically smiling at Enid. In public, that was. You couldn’t recall a single time she had smiled at anything in public. Yet there she was, walking closer and showing some semblance of physical affection in public. It was stunning. Your heart was almost beating.

Until your eyes landed on all the black lace that you knew covered scars no one could comprehend.

“I told you I saw them,” you heard Enid say as they both approached where you were frozen in place. “And I was right.”

Wednesday looked up at you with those stunning brown eyes. “So you were.”

Your fingers twitched in your pocket. Now that she was so close, you could smell her blood flowing through her veins. No matter how much you swallowed, you couldn’t ease the burn that was rising up your throat. You clenched your jaw tight, ignoring the sting of your fang piercing your lip.

Wednesday!

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “Hello Wednesday, I’m sorry for nearly draining you while you attempted to prove I wasn’t a monster.” Or even to Enid. “I apologise for trying to kill you when you stopped me from killing our girlfriend.” There was nothing you could say, to either of them, to justify what you had done. What you couldn’t forget.

“I told them you had their picture,” the previous child said as they approached along with the rest of the herd.

For the first time, you were thankful for children.

“So you told our secrets?” Wednesday asked. “You know what happens to those who tell our secrets.”

The old Wednesday would have sounded more intimidating and borderline threatening. Yet, even as her words said one thing, the soft look on her face said another. The children all smiled and tried to hide their laughter as they continued to look up at her.

“You’d better run,” Enid whispered.

Each of the children shared a look before running off, laughter following in their wake. It was almost… cute? Adorable, even? God, you needed to escape this place, you were almost turning soft. You needed to get back to your murderers and criminals, this was turning pathetic.

“As intimidating as ever, my love,” Enid said as she leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.

It made you sick. The burn in your throat spread, turning into a searing pain in your chest and stomach. All that was left was the tingling in your fingers and legs and you were finished. You wished the inferno would swallow you whole, reducing you to nothing more than ash and bone.

“You seem pale,” Wednesday said.

It seemed you wouldn’t combust soon enough.

“I only arrived out of courtesy,” you said as you stood taller. “Now that I have said my hellos, I must say my goodbyes.”

You tried to act like the looks on Enid’s and Wednesday’s faces didn’t kill you inside. It was like a silver stake to the heart, spreading its carnage down every muscle fiber and blood vessel. After all these years, you had managed to hurt them again within only a few moments. And you didn’t even possess the decency to apologise for the first sleight against them.

“Do you have to?” Enid asked. “You could stay.” Her eyes fell. “We could talk.”

“Did Enid tell you we have more blood in the fridge?” Wednesday asked.

She circled her fingers around her lace-covered wrist.

“I don’t do house calls,” you said. You could hear Wednesday’s pulse over the crowd. “Especially with those I cannot pay penance to.”

And yet, you didn’t make a single move. Against your better wishes, your feet stayed glued to the floor. Each beat of Wednesday’s heart was enough to have your mouth salivating, yet you couldn’t leave. A memory popped into your head of Enid almost seeming disappointed that her blood wasn’t appetising to you. It was a fond memory, one you replayed often enough for it to seem like a core memory of your relationship.

“You could stay,” Enid said.

“We can go somewhere quieter,” Wednesday continued.

You didn’t want to go somewhere quiet, you wanted to go home. You internally scoffed at the word; you didn’t live in a home. It was just a building, with four walls and a new blood bag or two every night. You barely lived in it, instead opting to spend all your time in your office where nothing could remind you of the two women standing in front of you.

They were your home.

“Please?” Enid asked softly. Almost too softly. Even with your enhanced hearing you could barely discern the words over the jazz band that had started playing.

You sighed. Would it truly hurt to spend a few moments with them? To give you some semblance of normalcy that only they could provide? After all, you could see the muscles underneath Enid’s skin. If you truly lost control, surely she could stop you. She had stopped you before.

The scars reminded you of it every day.

“Very well,” you said with a slight nod.

Enid was the one to reach out and grab your hand, pulling it out of its pocket and linking her fingers with yours. Her nails dug into the back of your hand, drawing out a sting that was a welcome distraction. The ache in your throat was ever present as Wednesday walked right beside you while Enid led you out of the ballroom.

The hustle and bustle of the ballroom slowly faded into oblivion as you were led down the corridors of the Addams mansion. You could recall memories from each room you passed. Each with their own story to tell. Stories of stolen kisses, scandalous rendezvous, silent moments with the women you loved, but together and separate.

When Enid stopped in the kitchen, you would have laughed had it been under any other circumstance. It was clear they had the same thoughts on their minds when Enid sat you down and Wednesday retrieved a blood bag from the fridge. She placed it between you and her when she sat opposite you at the table.

How comical.

They both stared at you with unwavering gazes. What was going through their minds, you wondered. Were they feeling the same way you had? Broken, anxious about fucking up, convinced you had blown your chance? Or perhaps they were waiting for you to break and recreate what had happened on that fated night all those years ago.

You sighed when you deduced they wouldn’t speak first.

“You both look well,” you said in a croaky voice that, if they were wise, was indicative of the state of your instincts. Think of something else to say. “Are all those children yours?”

Think of something less ridiculous.

“Yes they are,” Wednesday said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was almost condescending; you loved it.

“Pubert said you’re a lawyer?” Enid asked.

“Defence attorney,” you said with a nod, “yes.”

“Is it, ah, fun?” She asked.

You sighed. If the entire night was going to go along those lines - awkward and uncomfortable, tip toeing around every word - you would rather leave. Not a single positive thing could come from such a conversation. It was talking for talking sake. You all hated small talk, that was something that you knew had never changed, yet there you were, struggling to find any sort of conversation.

“It’s acceptable,” you said before placing both palms on the table. “I believe I really should be getting on.”

You attempted to push yourself up from the seat. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t often your bad knee would buckle when standing; usually reserved for long nights in your office where you had barely managed to take bathroom breaks. Yet when you pushed yourself up, you felt the strain in your knee. It was a familiar feeling, that weakness before a painful tightness that so often forced you back into your seat.

And it did. Your grip on the table meant nothing as your knee shook for a nanosecond before giving out underneath you. Thankfully the gasp never actually left your lips. You could taste the copper in your mouth as you bit your tongue in an effort to stay silent. In the end, your entire leg trembled.

Enid and Wednesday stood up quickly, knocking their chairs back and watching your every move. You wished they would come to you; you were glad they didn’t. The looks on their faces was terrifying enough. Identical looks to the ones they had had that night.

“Wednesday, put it down,” you said when she refused to remove the knife from her hand.

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

She had barely broken the skin before the scent hit you. It had been months since you had fed, and she had broken the floodgates. Everything about her disappeared except for the small drop of blood pooling at the bottom of her hand.

You didn’t feel yourself practically jumping toward her. You didn’t hear her gasp when you ripped the knife from her hand. You didn’t see the look on her face as you licked up the blood on her palm, or when you moved up her hand to bite the pulse point on her wrist.

But you tasted the nectar that flowed through her veins. You felt the strong pulse beneath your lips. You felt the scorching hot blood falling down your chin before you simply couldn’t keep up with the flow. Something vaguely pushed against your neck, but it was little more than a nuisance. All you knew was the blood in your mouth and the warmth on your lips.

Vaguely, you heard something. A scream, a growl, something breaking, you couldn’t tell the difference. It was nothing compared to the relief you were getting. How could you care about something in the outside world when you had such a delicious-

-something solid slammed into your body. The skin underneath your lips vanished, replaced by the cold air around you. When your body stopped rolling, you could feel the aches already starting to form. It didn’t matter. You zeroed in on Wednesday’s wrist again.

You were met with what felt like a truck slamming into your leg. Bones cracked, stretching the tendons and muscles with the new direction they were facing. It wouldn’t hold any weight when you tried to stand up. No matter; that was why you had two legs.

Something large and furry stepped in between you and Wednesday. Nothing about it was familiar in that moment. Instinct told you it was nothing but an obstacle in the way of your feed. It charged, and you swiped. Your fingers clipped something even as you felt its claws rake across your skin.

You tried to stand. Something sharp crossed your chest; the air was cold on your skin. When you stood up again, it was met with similar results. The third attempt got you closer to Wednesday. When something sharp clasped around your shoulder and threw you back to the ground, you stilled.

That hot blood you had gorged yourself on started to feel hot on your neck. Not in it, on it. You opened your mouth to speak and felt the liquid spew from your lips, falling down your face in all directions. Your hand lifted to the side of your neck. Your fingers pushed past the skin and then-exposed muscle.

As you pushed harder on the wounds, doing your best to staunch the flow of blood, the world started to come back to you. Blackness peeled back from your vision. The blurry world started to come into focus along with the sounds that you could finally discern as gasps and growls.

So did the pain.

You were drowning in the blood you had stolen. Your head lolled to the side even as you coughed again, spewing blood into the air like some demented fountain. A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded in places.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

You released the pressure from your neck and felt the blood continue to fall.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

“I know,” Wednesday answered just as softly. It was humiliating.

It was lovely.

“Please stay,” Enid said. You looked down to see her reach her hand across the table.

You shouldn’t. You had nearly killed them, had gone into a frenzy that you hadn’t experienced ever again. What if it happened again with them? After all those years, you still loved them. You would never admit to anyone, but you kept their photos on your desk at work. You couldn’t risk hurting them again. Couldn’t risk killing them. You were a monster, and that fact alone was never going to change.

They looked at you expectantly.

For when is a monster not a monster?

You reached forward and placed your hand on top of Enid’s.

Oh, when you love it.