A/N: Warning that this chapter deals with some food issues/eating disorder-adjacent themes, however it's more along the lines of food scarcity and Nadja knowing that certain victims will make her sick than anything having to do with body image.


Nadja had always had rather sensitive taste when it came to victims, but learning the connection between that particular bitter flavor and an unavoidable bellyache had elevated her into the vampiric equivalent of a master sommelier. Her abilities had been honed to the point that she could taste even the slightest hint of misery in a victim's blood as soon as she sank her teeth in. Now, avoiding a negative reaction had become as simple as passing a miserable soul off to Nandor with his cast-iron stomach.

It had been decades since she had gotten sick when she, unsurprisingly, was the first to notice a general decline in the quality of victims around Staten Island. It was slow to begin with, just Nadja passing the occasional victim along to Nandor when she bit down and tasted the telltale sourness of someone down on their luck. But then, a distinctly unpleasant aftertaste began to linger on her tongue after each meal. She traveled further and further from the house to hunt but still found the same problem.

Something was very, very wrong.

As a rule, vampires tended not to follow human events too closely. (After a particularly intense orgy, Nandor had taken a long nap and missed half of the Great War. He didn't believe his friends when they updated him.) Of course, there were the occasional vampiric scholars who delighted in using their eternal life as a chance to observe the rise and fall of dynasties or the development of technologies that would once have been considered sorcery, but they were few and far between. Most vampires, their house included, couldn't be fucked to write it all down. For the most part, global affairs were little more than light entertainment, something to be checked on whenever the passing fancy struck and summarily forgotten about just as quickly. The older they became, the quicker fickle human affairs passed them by.

Some things, however, were too big to be ignored. Things like, for example, the worst economic downturn in a nation's recorded history. The whole country was in a state of misery, but Nadja felt completely alone in being affected by it.

She was far from the only one to notice. It was, surprisingly, Colin Robinson, their newest and least welcome roommate who - in his infinite energy-sensing ability - was the first to detect that something was wrong with Nadja. It wasn't usually his style to interfere - his roommate's misery was more to his benefit - but he could tell that Nadja was starving. Something had to be done.

Colin Robinson cornered Laszlo one evening, hovering awkwardly until he was forced to look away from the piano.

"I say, do you want something?" Laszlo asked with a huff. "If not, do piss off man."

"Laszlo, have you, uh, checked up on Nadja recently? Noticed anything new?"

"How d'you mean, old chap?" Laszlo frowned. Nadja loved to complain, but she never liked to admit when something was really wrong. He squinted at Colin Robinson suspiciously. "Have you noticed something?"

"Yeah, her energy levels lately have been - well, yikes."

"How dare you insult the energy of my good lady wife?" Laszlo asked, outraged on her behalf. "You have a lot of nerve, Colin Robinson."

"Jeez," He chuckled. Then, more serious: "Listen, I'm doing you a favor here buddy. Your wife is an empty battery. She has been big-time miserable lately. Not even the good kind of misery. It's bitter."

Laszlo looked up. "Bitter?" He repeated.

"Yeah. Sour, real nasty," Colin Robinson said. "You, er, might want to help her out. No need to thank me-"

But Laszlo was already gone in search of his wife.

Bitter. Nadja's go-to description for victims she couldn't stomach. If Colin Robinson was able to sense the same with her, it could only mean one thing.


Once Laszlo knew what to look for, all of the signs were there. Nadja was becoming increasingly irritable, and she seemed to be eating less and less at every feeding. Despite that, she kept insisting that she wasn't hungry when Laszlo or Nandor offered to share with her. The last straw came one evening when Laszlo could actually hear Nadja's stomach growling from inside her coffin, followed by a small whimper of pain.

Laszlo waited until they were getting ready to question her. Nadja sat facing away from him, staring into the emptiness of her vanity mirror. He brushed her hair out, Nadja leaning back slightly into his touch. It was a moment of quiet domesticity he was almost afraid to disturb, but his wife's wellbeing always came first.

"Darling, when was the last time you ate?" He asked.

"You were with me last night." She snapped back, immediately on the defensive.

"You barely touched any of the victims. I've noticed a pattern and-" Laszlo struggled to find the words, "You seem so unhappy lately. More than just unhappy; you seem… hungry."

Nadja froze. "Laszlo, don't."

He pushed on recklessly. "I'm worried about you, my love."

Nadja made a small sound that was much too close to a sob for his liking. Laszlo tossed the hairbrush aside, squeezing her shoulder and whispering any words of comfort that he could think of.

"Let me help," He murmured into her dark hair. "I love you too much not to."

"Oh, Laszlo…" Nadja's voice cracked, and if she had still had a reflection, her husband would have seen the bloody tears streaming down her face in the mirror of her vanity. "I'm starving-" Her breath hitched as she choked back another sob. "Something's wrong, they're all so bitter, I can't finish any of them because it hurts, and that's when I can keep anything down in the first place and-"

Laszlo took her by the shoulders and turned her around so she was facing him. Nadja couldn't look him in the eyes, she simply threw her arms around her husband, wailing into his chest.

"My poor darling…" Laszlo dropped a kiss onto his wife's hair, rubbing her back and holding her tightly as she cried. "We'll fix this; I'll find out what's going on, dearest, I promise…"


There were many sacrifices Laszlo had made for his wife, but this was his greatest so far.

"Colin Robinson?" He called. "I say chap-"

"Hi Laszlo," Colin Robinson suddenly appeared behind him. "How's it hanging?"

"Not well, I must admit. Just this morning my wife confessed a great hunger within her."

"Sounds kinky."

"Not that kind of hunger!" He replied, and then, irritated: "You knew that!"

"Yeah, I'm just messing with ya. You figured out Nadja is a sad-sack then?"

Laszlo glared. "I once again will not allow such slander of my wife. She isn't the problem, it's her victims. She's eating sad-sacks. All of New York has gone sour and my good wife has a certain aversion to these things."

"They're calling it the Depression," Colin Robinson said. "A real economic spiral over the past few years. I'm surprised it took you guys so long to notice."

Years?! How long had Nadja been stuck with bitter victims without saying anything?

"What happened?" Laszlo asked.

Colin Robinson's eyes glowed. "What do you understand about the stock exchange?"

"Absolutely fuck all," Laszlo answered. "Do you think you could explain it to me?"

"Wait, you want to know?" Colin Robinson asked, seeming almost disappointed. "It's no fun for me if you find it interesting."

"I had no interest in understanding money when I was alive and, trust me, that has not fucking changed. But I hope that understanding this-" He waved his hand vaguely, "Mysterious stock exchange will help my wife."

"Well then," He said, "better get comfortable. It's a long explanation."

Laszlo took a seat, parchment and ink at the ready, bracing himself to pay attention.


Nadja hadn't faced hunger like this for centuries, but she had never quite been able to forget the feeling of waking up to a painfully empty stomach. But at least when she had been human, everyone around her was also starving, not just her. Now, the deep, gnawing ache in her belly was made exponentially worse by the fact that food was more than plentiful.

It wasn't bloody fair. Nandor could drink from anyone he wanted with no adverse effects! Laszlo might complain about taste or mild indigestion from time to time, but he was generally alright, and Colin fucking Robinson was enjoying the biggest buffet of negative energy he had ever experienced! Her husband and her friends were well-fed, and there was more than enough to go around - she just couldn't eat any of it. Nadja's options were starvation or sickness.

She wanted to scream and cry, and sometimes she did, but mostly, she was tired. Tired and hungry.

There were nights when Nadja simply couldn't take it anymore, and she would drain someone with no regard for the consequences. The relief she felt when she bit down on a victim's jugular despite the bitter taste, the hot rush of blood filling her mouth and dripping down her chin, the brief moments of satisfaction before everything she had eaten would force its way back up her throat - it was almost worth it.

Laszlo always sat with her on the bathroom floor when this desperation inevitably left her up all day puking her guts out, grounding Nadja with his hand moving up and down between her shoulder blades. He took care of his wife through all of it, never once complaining. When the stomach cramps got particularly bad, he would lie with her on the bed in the blue room and rub her belly. When she was feeling queasy, he would read to her or play the piano to take her mind off of it. Above all, though, Laszlo made sure that Nadja was still eating enough to survive.

It wasn't much, but Colin Robinson had the decency to avoid purposely getting on Nadja's nerves, and even Nandor tried to help in whatever way he could. More than once, Nadja awoke in the evening to find him standing in her crypt with a fresh corpse in hand, extending it to her with an explanation like "this one isn't so bad". It was a secret the two of them would carry to their second graves, but the first time, Nadja had thrown her arms around Nandor - her stupid, infuriating, wonderful big brother - in a crushing hug as tears welled in her eyes.

All the while, Laszlo wracked his brains for some way to help his beloved.


Laszlo had never paid much attention to current events, not even when he'd been alive, but these days the state of the world was all he could think about. Well, the state of the world, and the state of his wife, who was his world. If she'd still been human, by this point she would certainly have lost a dangerous amount of weight. He needed a solution, and fast.

Laszlo had been so sure that Colin Robinson had been exaggerating how grim things were, but they seemed even worse than he could have imagined. Based on his tireless research, the entire world seemed, to put it bluntly: fucked. Tensions were on the rise in Europe; countries that hadn't existed when he was human were suddenly furious at each other and run by assholes without a clue. The American economy was in shambles, Japan had invaded Manchuria, there were rumors of a devastating famine in the Soviet Union, and Australia had managed to get their arse handed to them by an army of birds.

There had to be somewhere in the world where everyone wasn't in abject misery! One place, one town, one city, where things weren't so bad - somewhere he and Nadja could ride out the worst of things in relative comfort. Laszlo knew that his suffering paled in comparison to that of his wife, but the thought of watching Nadja waste away before his eyes? A stake through his heart would surely be less painful.

Laszlo was nearing wild desperation when, seemingly out of nowhere, the solution presented itself as though it had always been there, just waiting to be discovered.

He'd been out hunting in the city when it happened. Laszlo was trailing two young ladies on their way home from the cinema, hoping for them to turn into some dark alleyway when he caught wind of their conversation.

"Everything just looks so wonderful over there…" One of the girls sighed.

"All those parties…" Her companion agreed dreamily. "Gosh, it's all just so glamorous!"

"Do you think Hollywood is really like the movies? With everyone going out dancing and drinking champagne and all that?"

Laszlo didn't stay to hear the answer - or for his dinner - he had train tickets to book.


"We're away to California, my love!" Laszlo came bursting into their crypt, two train tickets held aloft in his hand.

"California? Laszlo, please, not this again…" Nadja sighed, recalling her husband's first ill-fated trip to the West Coast. If she was going to suffer, she might as well be as comfortable as possible in their home.

"Nadja, my darling, I've got it all figured out!" He paused for dramatic effect. "Hollywood!"

"Hollywood?" Nadja echoed, brows knitted together in confusion.

"All those hopeful young starlets, the glitz, the glamor - everyone's bound to be happier in Tinseltown!" Laszlo explained, sweeping his wife up into his arms and twirling her around.

"You really think so?" Nadja asked in a small voice, fragile hope shining in her hazel eyes.

"For you, my dear," He kissed the tip of her nose and then her forehead. "It's worth a shot!"

And Laszlo was right. Shortly after their arrival, the pair hypnotized their way into an elite Hollywood gala where Nadja drained three wealthy studio executives so quickly that Laszlo was afraid she would still wind up making herself sick, just for an entirely different reason. She didn't, though. Nadja just stashed the corpse of her most recent victim in a coat closet and beamed at Laszlo, teeth stained red and eyes sparkling with gratitude and adoration for her husband.

"Laszlo, my darling -" She stifled a hiccup; those men had definitely been drinking. "Thank you…" Nadja kissed him messily, then buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you so, my sweet syrup pie."

She was quiet - such soft words were only for the ears of her husband.

"I love you too, dearest." Laszlo replied. In the distance, he could hear the band striking up a new song. "Care to dance, my darkest princess?"

Nadja nodded enthusiastically, so Laszlo led her out to the dance floor once again, guiding her with a hand on the small of her back.

That night was the happiest they had shared in ages. Both vampires were roaring drunk by the time dawn was approaching, and Laszlo made several promising connections with directors that specialized in films of a rather scandalous nature.

When they retired for the day, Nadja felt like herself - full and powerful and strong - for the first time in years, and it was all thanks to the love of her undead life.


A/N: Laszlo is nothing if not a wife guy.