#mostly with the purpose of storing it on my blog

[aeyumicore]

please & thank you

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little/no plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 7.5k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, SLIGHT spoilers to the lore (with some of my own interpretations and theories), oral m!receiving, fingering f!receiving, face/throat fucking, finger sucking, kinda rough, size difference, cuffing/tied up (m!receiving), sylus kindaaaa/degrading mean but in a tasteful way, he’s also very soft for reader, sylus has a FILTHY mouth, orgasm denial (f! and m!receiving), mirror sex, improper use of Evol, use of Y/N, cute petnames hehe (little dove, little bird, sweetheart, doll, etc), slight predator and prey, choking (kinda breath play??? not really), some references to lore (main storyline + midnight stealth), kinda sub!reader, dom!sylus, THIS IS FILTHY YALL IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hi guyssss she is here <3 MY FIRST ever sylus fic, first of many me thinks bc i am so utterly infatuated w him im sorry zayne LOL

i did NOT end up making this connected to ‘midnight stealth’ OR ‘no defense zone’ (although some midnight stealth plot is referenced a tiny bit in the beginning). any resemblances to these two memories are purely coincidental, mostly similar because there’s use of cuffs/restraints in all three. this is purely a standalone filthy fic

this has veryyyy little plot, i decided to keep it that way so im sorry to those who wanted to see plot in this ;_; i didn’t want to burn out, which i likely would’ve because pivoting from what i had (5.6k words) to a more plot based fic would have taken me a few more days and probably double the words and i just couldn’t do that to myself. 

i appreciate you guys for supporting me and i really respect each and every opinion so i hope i didn’t let anyone down by not doing the plot version. there will be plenty of opportunities for that i promise <3

pls enjoy :) any comments or reblogs r greatly appreciated (and loved) by me <3 they help me keep motivated to keep writing and truly make my whole week.

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ .

You were playing with fire.

Actually, what you were doing was definitely more dangerous and infinitely more idiotic than playing with fire. 

It was downright deranged. 

It appeared the silver haired man beneath you agreed, his jaw ticking dangerously as his deep crimson eyes crinkled in warning, “Are you sure this is a game you want to play?” 

You knew the answer was definitely no. But the mere glimpse of the Onychinus leader beneath you, at your mercy, was enough to make you push through the thrilling fear coursing through your veins.

With Sylus’s chiseled body unwillingly sprawled out before you, you situated yourself in between his thighs. Though his words and expression were laced with a cautionary edge, his legs spread open for you. 

His wrists were bound with the two silver cuffs you’d purchased at a novelty store on girls day out with Tara, each hand simultaneously locked to the steel beams of your bed’s headboard. With his arms bound above his head, his button up shirt rode up to expose his pale and scarred skin and the defined outlines of the chiseled pelvic muscles that lead to his manhood.

It wasn’t a stretch to say you’d planned this, after all you did buy the cuffs with Sylus in mind. And you’d never forget what Luke and Kieran had told you, in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Boss is most vulnerable when he’s sleeping.” 

Except now you weren’t binding him for the purpose of incapacitating him to find that damned brooch he’d taunted you with. Now, when he’d dozed off after you’d forced him to marathon the Harry Potter series with you, you tied him up with only one goal in mind.

Well maybe two. To tease and to punish.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch the way Sylus’s naval rises and falls irregularly, a subtle sign of his boiling anticipation. His exposed pelvis is dusted in a faint path of hair, trailing to where his pants hang dangerously low on his hips, after you’d taken his belt off. 

Sylus watches you with a careful eye as your hands find his waistband, tugging his bottoms and his boxers down in one motion. He tuts disapprovingly, even as his body lifts every so slightly to assist you in undressing him, “I’ve already warned you once. I won’t warn you again.” 

And yet, there’s an undeniable amusement in his voice that lets you know it’s safe to keep going. Your eye contact never breaks as you tug his clothing all the way down, until they rest at his ankles. His hardening cock springs free as you do so, the thick mushroom head already leaking a shiny streak of precum. As it slaps against his abdomen, Sylus’s carmine irises darken, but he refuses to make any sounds. The screech of steel rattling against steel is loud in the tense air, the formidable man’s fists clenched so tightly his nails threaten to break his skin. 

You bend down slowly, torturously languid, until his masculine scent invades your senses. You shiver in pleasure, positively addicted to every part of him. Sylus’s stomach heaves as he curses you inwardly; you were the only devilish minx that could even fathom rendering him into this vulnerable state. The only person he’d ever allow to see him like this. 

“You’ve become quite bold, little bird. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

His cocky attitude makes you want to shiver, but you find the strength to retort back, “Perhaps you have.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, and a chance for you to lose your courage, you let your tongue run over the thick tip of his erection, collecting his arousal on your tongue. You make a show of savoring his taste, letting your eyes bat at him while you lick him clean. 

Sylus is hypnotized, crunching up to watch you. His wrists pull against the metal restraints, growing irritated with being held back. Of course, if he’d wanted to, he could snap the cuffs with a mere tick of his fingers, but he found it amusing to watch his mischievous little bird believe she had control. 

When you take his head fully into your lips, Sylus’s hips involuntarily buck up into the heaven that is your mouth. Though surprised, you do your best to accommodate the extra inches, tongue twirling around his leaking slit as your jaw unhinges to take in his fat girth. 

“Fuck.” 

Sylus’s dark eyebrows are scrunched as he fights the urge to destroy the cuffs to get to you, wanting nothing more than to sink his fingers into your hair and push you down until you couldn’t breathe. But he prided himself as a man of patience, even if he despised being tested. 

And you were absolutely testing him. Your puffy lips caressed his sensitive veins, tongue assaulting every flaming nerve of his massive length, delicate and soft fingers leaving no inch of him untouched. Yet you moved so languidly. Deliberately testing how far you could push him, testing his resolve. Not that he would ever beg, but he desperately wished you’d move faster, take him deeper. 

“My love,” he purrs, deceptively calm even as your filthy tongue lathered his most sensitive parts, “I implore you to release me. While I’m still feeling generous.” 

Doing your best to shut him up, you take him into the back of your throat, fingers shifting from the base of his manhood to his heavyset balls. You’re only half successful in your antics, as you do cut off Sylus’s demands, only to be replaced by an inexplicable string of curses. The daunting leader of the Onychinus, whose name evoked fear itself to most, unraveled at your whims. A man who had no weaknesses, save for one.

You.

With his head thrown back, hair tousled and matted with a thin layer of sweat, he began to pant heavily. His neck bobbed deeply to the rhythm of his gasps, hands pulling against the restraints you’d locked him into. The sound of metal clashing against metal is almost deafening, your head snapping up to his arms bound above his head. 

For a second you’d feared he’d snapped the steel cuffs, his biceps rippling and forearm veins bulging with the sheer strength of his arms. But fortunately for you, his wrists were still firmly bound, a red angry circle forming where the metal met the pale skin of his hands. 

“Do you really think – hah – this will end well for you, dove?” Sylus considers this your very last warning, crunching up once again to watch you, your mouth full of his cock, saliva dribbling down your chin as you try to accommodate his thickness. He swears under his breath at the sight of you, his woman, the only person he’d ever even consider letting his guard down around, pleasuring him so sweetly and enthusiastically. Even if you were so foolish that you thought you could get away with typing him up. 

You look up innocently at him, fluttering your eyelashes as you fuck him with your mouth. Though you let him hit the back of your throat every time, your rhythm is intentionally and torturously slow, edging him without making it obvious enough for punishment. And although each intentional motion elicits the most mind numbing grip from your gag reflex on his throbbing erection, he’s losing his mind from how much more he wants. How much more he needs. 

“Faster.”

You nearly choke as you giggle at his demands, releasing his cock with a resounding pop. Of course, even tied up, Sylus didn't use the word ‘please.’ The man of unthinkable power was absolutely used to getting what he wanted without even batting an eye. It was a habit that he rarely relented on, and when he did it was only for you. 

“What’s the magic word?”

Sylus glowered at you, jaw twitching dangerously as he did his best to hold himself back, “Watch it.” 

It was truly taking every ounce of willpower he had to not rip the cuffs off the steel beams of your bed, taking your headboard apart with it. All so he could have more.

“Sylus,” you pout, still using your hands to gingerly stroke him with a featherlike touch. Nothing intense enough to get him off. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to say ‘please’ when asking for something?” You give him a pointed squeeze, thumb stroking the underside of his swollen head. 

He curses, pelvis thrusting up into your fist to try and chase the pleasure you’re withholding from him, “Fuck, if you’re going to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one.”

“I just want to hear the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Please. See how easy that is?”

“Y/N, my heart,” Sylus purrs lowly, eyes glinting dangerously, “I won’t tolerate any more disobedience.”

“Well then you don’t get what you want.” As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d regret them. 

Before you can even blink, you find yourself pressed firmly into the mattress, your head hanging off the side, hair dangling freely. The air feels strangely brisk, and you can vaguely feel your nipples hardening. It’s then you realize you’re naked. But you hadn’t felt Sylus lay a single finger on you.

His Evol.

You’d become so accustomed to Sylus’s Evol that you no longer felt its slightly suffocating  invisible web when it touched you, unlike when you’d first met him in the N109 zone. The countless times he’d use his Evol to guide your lips to his, your hand into his larger ones, or to undress you, had actually made you quite fond of the touch of his Evol. 

Little did you know that Sylus had actually been practicing lightening up the intensity of it, for you. He’d always detested seeing the uncomfortable scrunch of your eyebrows, the hostile goosebumps that would raise where his Evol touched you. So he’d absolved himself to train the claws of his Evol to soften, instead becoming that of a gentle caress. Only for you, of course. For everyone else, they got the skin-shredding talons that parents warned about in cautionary tales to their children. 

Hanging upside down, the glint of the ceiling light against the silver cuffs hanging off your headboard catches your eye, snapping you from your thoughts. The metal loops were still completely intact, but unlocked. Of course you knew he’d use his Evol to escape eventually, but it still surprised you how he managed to do it so effortlessly. Graceful in everything he did. 

You try to sit up, but Sylus’s hand wraps itself softly around your throat and holds you back down. He tsks scornfully, a playful warning in the swirling glowing cerise of his eyes. His grip is gentle enough where you can still speak normally. Rough enough where you want more.

So you pout childishly, “It’s just like you to use your Evol for such cheap tricks.” 

From beneath his towering frame, you can just barely see him raise his perfectly arched eyebrow. Most of him is obstructed by his massive erection pressed at your nose, menacingly imposing before you. “Cheap? Doll, there’s nothing cheap about me. And nothing cheap about the things I’m going to do to you.”

You shiver involuntarily at his threats, your thighs clenching together in anticipation. Sylus’s words were always harsh, but when it came to you there was always such a profound sincerity and gentleness behind his actions, even when he was brutally devouring your body. So the danger edged into his words only served to excite you, fueling the dampness that had formed between your legs. 

And of course, his perfect cock dangling in front of your lips, still glistening with a sheen of his arousal and your saliva. Hanging so closely to your waiting tongue, but never touching. That definitely did not help the throbbing ache in between your thighs. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun, don’t you agree?”

Feeling daringly bold, you playfully curse him, “Screw y–” But before you can finish getting the words out, Sylus grips your jaw, shoving himself into your waiting mouth. The force he uses is enough to make your eyes roll back, the feeling of being full of him making you forget what you’d wanted to say to begin with. You’re careful to pull back your teeth as he finds his way to one of his favorite places, the back of your throat. 

“Let’s give that mouth something to do, other than run itself, hmm?”

You groan in response, letting the vibrations of your throat speak for you. Sylus grunts, removing his hand from your throat and weaving it into your hair like he’d wanted to earlier. His grip is strong, just hard enough that you feel an immense pleasure from the stinging pull. With a firm hand on your scalp, he fucks into your face, his meticulously groomed hair brushing against your nose at every thrust. 

His speed and vigor is relentless, not that you’d complain even if you could. The feeling of Sylus driving in and out of your throat, like you were a fleshlight, had your body vibrating with need, clit throbbing in ecstasy. How you could feel this good just sucking his cock was beyond you. Your unrestrained moans were an absolute orchestra to his ears, the vibrations running through every nerve ending in his erection, causing him to release a string of his own sounds 

“You’re so – hah – exquisite like this, dove. Choking on my cock instead of your words.”

You whine at him, so unbelievably turned on by the filthy way he speaks to you. His skin slaps against your wet mouth, and an obscene amount of drool mixed with precum drips off your cheeks and onto the carpeted floor beneath you. You loll your tongue out to try and catch his copious dribbles of precum, not wanting to waste any part of him. 

“I can see my cock in your throat, sweetheart,” he cooed, using a hand to brush against your throat, where his erection bulges against your neck each time he fucks into you. 

Tears streamed from your eyes as Sylus’s pace increased, gripping onto your hair for even more leverage against your beautiful face. 

“Crying already? Not feeling so bold anymore, my love?” 

You ignore his patronizing words, trying to focus instead on your own pleasure. With one hand still gripping the hard muscles of his bubbly rear, your other hand wanders to the quivering area between your thighs, fiddling with the bundle of nerves that was slick with your arousal. You desperately seek to relieve some of the tension building up in your gut, all from just Sylus’s cock in your mouth.

But before you can give yourself any inkling of pleasure, you feel a familiar force of energy pulling your hand away. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch yourself.”

You nearly sob at his words. You want to speak, plead with him to touch you, or at least let you touch yourself, pride be damned. But his unbelievable girth makes it impossible to do anything but devour him repeatedly.

The white haired man above you watches you carefully, swearing at how your tear soaked face makes his resolve to punish you crumble ever so slightly. Taking pity on you, he brings your hand to his, weaving his long fingers into yours. You hold his hand tightly, enjoying the way his much larger hand clasps into yours, fingers digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Good girl,” he coos in praise, voice tinged with a condescension that makes your skin crawl in excitement, “You don’t touch what’s mine, unless I say, hm?”

You look up at him with wide wet eyes, nodding obediently as he continues to ravage your face. He pressed your hand deeper into the mattress, his thrusts becoming so intense that you knew you’d have a hard time speaking tomorrow, your throat battered and bruised. 

From your position, you don’t see the glowing light that emanates from your joined fingers. But Sylus does, and he watches in a concealed wonder at the way you can so easily resonate with him now. You didn’t even need to try, a single touch was all it took. It was a testament to how much you’d grown to trust him. 

No, it was a testament to the deep love and respect you’d both come to hold for each other. You’d both definitely come a long way from when he’d captured, or when you let him capture, you at the N109 zone all that time ago. The thought of that threatens to make Sylus shiver as he continues to ram himself deep into your warm wet throat. He watched the way you took him so eagerly, hand gripping his for dear life, your other hand coming up to stroke his heavyset balls as they slapped against your face. The way your poor little throat bulged every time he thrusted into it, the bump so visible to his hungry crimson eyes.

Oh, how you ruined him. He’d fucking marry you.

Your jaw ached, having been open as widely as possible for far too long now, but you did your best to continue to take him. The feeling of him using your mouth was more than enough to keep you growing wetter, needing more. Your thighs squeezed together, as you rocked into nothing, wanting nothing more than to feel any friction between your legs.

Sylus watched as you pathetically tried to find pleasure in the empty air, nearly growling at how arousing the sight was. He was fueled with such an intense desire and love for you, nothing like he’d ever felt before. And that love and desire was enough for him to concede, if even just a little bit, for you.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling…charitable today, my dove,” he murmurs, releasing your hair and bending over your body. His erection never leaves your mouth, but he hovers so that your sight is filled with the view of his solid abdominal muscles. You cry out against his member when the familiar feel of his fingers finds your clit. You gasp out, choking on him, your hips jolting up eagerly to meet his torrid touch.

Sylus chuckles, a satisfied smirk making its way onto his unfairly gorgeous face, “Look at how eager you are…all this just from the taste of cock?”

Not able to respond, you hump up into his hand, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment of how desperate you were for him. Sylus only gives you a pointed thrust into your throat, making you gag deliciously around him again.

“Such an insatiable little bird,” he murmured, fingers expertly toying with you.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” his skilled ministrations never stopping, “I wish you could see how lovely you look with your mouth full.” 

Your eyes rolled back when he entered you, one finger at a time. He cursed at how tightly you gripped just one of his fingers. He had half a mind to just bury himself into your perfect cunt right then and there. And that’s just what he’d do. He was never used to not indulging in what he wanted, why stop now?

You felt the familiar shift in energy, a gentle hold on your body, until you found yourself laying on the middle of your bed, Sylus situated between your knees, fingers still toying with you. Your neck screaming in relief at the plush surface, mind reeling from the sudden shift. 

The white haired man bends to hover over you, free hand caressing your jaw, his frighteningly beautiful face before yours, “Hello, my love.”

Your voice is hoarse, sounding unfamiliar, “Hi.” It’s nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

Sylus chuckles, his chest rumbling warmly at your adorably vulnerable state, “How’s your throat?”

You glare at him, trying to steady your raspy voice, “Don’t patronize me.”

He smirks, not the least bit apologetic, but says, “Forgive me, love.” He doesn’t give you a chance to sass him further, instead bringing your chin up to his. His lips slot onto yours, deceptively slow at first and quickly progressing to a vigor that matched the way he’d rammed himself into your throat. 

The bruising intensity of the kiss made your mind muddle, your hands coming up to grasp his neck to ground you. You gasped at the feeling of his heartbeat pounding so forcefully in his neck. The familiar feeling of an earth shattering orgasm edges into your numbed mind, every heightened sense filled with Sylus and only Sylus.

You finally break away, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him scissoring in and out of you, enough to have you on the brink of climaxing, “Sy-Sylus, I’m–”

Sylus reads you like the back of his hand, withdrawing his fingers and roughly grabbing your face to look up at him. You sob at the loss of friction, looking up at him with teary questioning eyes. 

The ceiling lights illuminate behind Sylus, forming a halo like ring atop his head. He was so hauntingly and terrifyingly beautiful. Not unlike that of a fallen angel, whose sole purpose was to ruin you. 

And just as you’re admiring him, Sylus looks down at you. Unbeknownst to you, he also considers you to be his very own angel sent from the heavens. Bringing light and salvation to the shadowed crevices of his soul.

But even then, he can’t help but tease you, the urge to see you ruined at his hand. An angel with tattered wings, so utterly spent with lust. “You don’t cum until I say, hm?” As if to punctuate his point, he puts his fingers, wet with your slick, in between your parted lips. The taste of you is strong on him, enough to distract you from Sylus, who’s lining up his more massive than ever erection with your weeping slit. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Suck. I know you can do better than that.”  

He presses his fingers harder onto your tongue, relishing in how warm you feel around him. At your adorable pouty glare, he pushes his leaking tip into you.

You yelp in surprise, biting down on his fingers in your mouth. Sylus hisses, but the pain only further arouses him, making him shove into you suddenly. Your hands come up to grasp his forearm, the veins bulging under your touch. 

The feeling of him entering you is so overwhelming, the only thing grounding you to the present was the way his fingers felt and tasted against your tongue. And so you devoured him in earnest, much to his satisfaction. 

It’s not long before he bottoms out, his head kisses your cervix, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, sparks of hot white pleasure clouding your vision. 

Sylus removes his fingers from your mouth, bringing his thumb to his own lips and brushing it across his parted mouth, his other fingers outstretched as he licks across his thick thumb. You whimper at the sight, so unbelievably seductive he has to be doing it on purpose. 

“You always taste divine.” His movements have all but halted completely, his thick girth just sitting inside of you, brushing against your womb. And even though the stretch is enough to practically compress your lungs, you want more. 

“D-Don’t tease Sylus,” you whine pathetically, “Fuck me.” 

The smile on his face is as cocky as ever, the corner of his lips curving up, as sharp as his edged jaw. 

“So bold. Do you really think you’re in any position to make demands?”

He gives you just one pointed thrust, cockhead nestling so deliciously into your sweetest spots, but stopping just at that. You cry out, fingers gripping the comforter so tightly your knuckles turn white. 

“If I recall correctly…someone once told me something about saying…what was it? ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’?”

He grins down at you, bending forward so that he hovers right over your face. He would never let you know but the pouty grimace on your lust glowing face was nearly enough to have him caving into your every whim, punishment forgotten in the wind. 

“Hm? So what do we say, sweetheart?”

With his cock situated so perfectly in you, it’s impossible for you to do anything but follow his every command, no matter how much it bruises your ego.

“P-Please?”

His smirk deepens, fingers cupping your chin up to face him, “You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You groan as he shifts, giving you just the tiniest bit of friction where it mattered. You do your best to find the confidence, “Please Sylus.”

There’s the faintest flicker of darkness in his eyes, a twitch of unraveling at the way you effortlessly purr his name. If you had any idea the things you did to him, the mighty and fearless leader of the Onychinus, it would be his absolute undoing. 

“Please what, my dove? Come on, use that beautiful voice of yours.”

Before you can let out your snarky response, his fingers travel to your neck, stroking your sensitive pulse gently before pressing down to compress your airway. 

“Or is this throat only good for taking my cock?”

You whine at his words, patience absolutely gone. You wrap your legs around his waist and force him closer. A pathetic attempt to get him to thrust into you. Your hands come up to the back of his neck, and your tear glistening eyes search his pleadingly. He’s taken aback by the sudden shift, a small gasp escaping his parted lips. In his surprise, he lets himself be guided to you, his forehead falling to lay atop yours, his breath fanning against your own. 

“Please Sylus, please fuck me. I’m sorry, I’ll be a good girl. Please.”

The curse that leaves Sylus’s voice is barely perceptible as he drinks you in. Your cheeks were still streaked with tears, your eyes wide and glassy. Your lips were puffy from his bruising kisses, and cheeks heated with desire. There was absolutely nothing in the universe that could match how utterly gorgeous you were. His gorgeous woman. His to ruin. 

His voice low with longing and hunger, “Fuck, okay love. I’ll give you what you want.”

He manipulates the energy around you, raising your arm above your hand. His slender fingers dance up your exposed skin, until they find your fingers. His nails graze your inflamed skin, fingers toying with yours. For a brief moment, he enjoys how much smaller your hand feels in his. His delicate little bird.

“Hold on tight.”

Your fingers grip his, your nails digging in when he finally pulls his cock out, leaving only his head still snuggly inside. Without giving you a second to breathe, he’s plummeting himself back into your sopping cunt. Your combined slick ensures there’s zero resistance, only the sounds of wet slaps filling the space between you. 

Sylus’s forehead still rests against yours, his free arm bent above your head, helping support him as he fucks you with a painfully delicious intensity. Your cunt milks him perfectly, the warmth far too inviting and the tightness much too constricting. His fingers grip yours forcefully, trying to offset the way your pussy tries to suck the living soul out of him. 

“Sy-Sylus,” you cry out, nails digging crescents into his skin, your other hand coming up to rake red scratches into his back, “Slow – ngh – slow down!” Your brain is a jumbled mess, confused at the words your tongue lets out when your body only wants more.

Sylus’s chuckle is low and almost sinister, his pace never relenting, “That’s funny. I recall you saying you’d be a good girl.” He shifts his weight to his knees, moving his palm to your naval, pressing down. You squeal at the feeling of his palm pressing into your stomach, your sensitive walls being compressed into his cock spearing in and out of you. 

“And good girls take what they’re given, hm?”  

Moans and whimpers are the only thing you’re capable of producing, his pace brutal, like he was trying to find his way into your throat from your cunt. You don’t notice his hand traveling further south until his thumb presses into your swollen clit, flicking hard. You screech, your back arching off the bed, giving him further access to your dripping cunt. 

“Answer me when I speak to you, sweetheart.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m a good girl, I can take it!” you all but screamed, spine so arched you felt like you were levitating.

The erotic cries that leave your lips make it difficult for Sylus to think straight, so he doesn’t. He fucks you with a ferocity that was nothing short of animalistic, the only thing he can think of is how many different ways he can and will make you cum. 

He presses your joined palms deeper into the mattress, eyes searching yours desperately. For what, you were unsure. But as his scarlet irises bore into yours, you felt an overwhelming sense of emotion catch in your throat.

Propping yourself slightly on your elbows, you pressed your forehead to Sylus’s, his sweat dampened bangs fluttering against your eyelashes.You reach up to cup the back of his head, pulling him towards you. His right hand never leaves your clit, his left staying tightly clasped with yours.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as he claims you fully, thrusts moving in tandem with his tongue. It’s a torrid clash of tongue and teeth, enough passion to have the Aether core in your heart throbbing dangerously erratically. 

“Syluuus,” you slur as you pull away to breathe, “I-I’m..I’m gon–” You can’t get the words out, the tip of his cock against your cervix and fingers on your clit bringing you into another dimension, one filled with him. The scent, the sound, the feel, the sight of him. 

“I know. Getting so goddamn tight,” he grits out, jaw locking as he tries to steady himself against your vice grip. Sylus was a man of boundless stamina and restraint, but when it came to you… When it came to the absolute heaven that was your body, he could hold nothing back. 

Just as you neared your orgasm, Sylus stops again. You find your body being moved again, but this time Sylus’s hands are lifting you, and not his Evol. His strong arms lift you so that you’re sitting on his lap, your back pressed against his muscled chest, and his back leaned up against the bed.

He does however use his Evol to drag over the gold arched full-length mirror you had propped up against the corner of your bedroom, so that it sits right in front of the bed. Your vision is filled with the gleaming reflection of you, naked on Sylus’s lap, his arrogant smirk right by the top of your head. His muscular arms are draped over your thighs, spreading open your glistening folds, fully exposing you before the mirror. 

“Sylus s-stop. It’s embarrassing,” you whine, averting your gaze at the lewd sight, and the even filthier sounds of his fingers against your copious slick. But he grips your jaw firmly, turning you back to the mirror. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear, “Look.” 

You puff your cheeks, fighting against his fingers.

“Look, love. Or you don’t get to cum,” he purrs in your ear.

You mutter sulkily, knowing full well his threats are anything but empty, “You’re evil.” 

But you obey diligently, letting his fingers guide your face forward. The sight before you is so unbelievably filthy, Sylus’s long fingers digging into your thighs to keep them spread open, his other fingers playing with your swollen lips. Even on his lap, he was a head taller than you, His soft white hair is matted with sweat, his cheeks dusted a peachy red with how vigorously he’d just been fucking you.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, Sylus lifts you from underneath your thighs, and spears you onto his cock. You cry out at the feeling of being stretched open again, Sylus’s own ecstasy fueled grunts in your ear.

With you atop him, his cock reaches so unbelievably deep inside you that you feel the tears returning. Your eyes screw shut as his tip repeatedly brushes against your cervix, the familiar pain quickly dulling into an intense pleasure. 

Suddenly you feel Sylus’s teeth at the crook of your neck, and arm coming across your chest to enclose over your entire throat. His sharp canines dig into the area where your neck meets your shoulder, biting just hard enough to make your eyes fly open to face his in the mirror. His eyebrows are quirked at you, amusement evident in his sharp ruby eyes.

He doesn’t speak, instead keeping his mouth attached to your pulse point. But the dark sultry heat swirling in his eyes that you can see reflected in the mirror is a clear and wordless command. 

Watch.

And who were you to disobey him, when his body brought this much pleasure to your own. 

So with your eyes locked on his in the mirror, Sylus begins to bounce you in earnest on his lap. And while you moan and whimper as he springs you so effortlessly on his cock, like you weighed nothing more than a mere toy, his own noises are muffled by his teeth that are sunk into your fluttering neck. 

His eyes never leave yours in the mirror, darkened underneath his eyebrows, glowing with red hot lust. The way he watches you is so intimately primal, like a predator toying with its prey before the kill. 

With his hungry gaze locking yours in place and the lewd wet sounds of slick skin pounding against one another, you feel the alarmingly rapid tightening of your abdomen that signals your orgasm. Sylus feels it too, your walls tightening so intensely that the outline of his veins might imprint into you. Your grip coaxes his own cock toward release, his jaw tightening as to keep himself in check. 

He releases your bruised skin, admiring how breathtaking you look with his marks on you. His hand leaves your clit to rest on your tummy, stroking the skin there. You can feel him use his Evol to keep you in place, only the raw strength of his thighs and abs keeping you in steady motion on his length. 

“Look,” he croons in your ear, teeth grazing against your sensitive earlobes, “Can you see where I am, dove? I’m allll the way here ” His husky voice drawls, hand on your abdomen pressing down. You can definitely see the distinct outline of something large thrusting in and out of you. Your eyes widen at the mirror, mesmerized at how your bodies connect, almost resonating on their own. Sylus’s eyes are also glued to the way the base of his cock, shiny with a ring of arousal, forces your tiny fluttering cunt to take him in all his glory.  

“Tell me how it feels, hm? Tell me how I make you feel.” When you don’t respond, too lost in the sight in the mirror, his fingers come back down to squeeze your clit,

“Sylus! – ngh – feels ssoo so good,” you simper, panting through the hold he still has on your throat, the pressure quickly becoming far too addicting, “I-I…”

“Hah,” he groans into your ear, “You what baby? Tell me.”

“M’gunna cuuum,” you wail as his angle shifts just slightly, cock driving into your g spot. Sylus knows just how to play with you, his fingers sending you to heaven and back repeatedly. He was so thick that you felt like he'd split you in two, your cunt and thighs being stretched to their limits against the sloppy friction.

“Hmmm, is my beautiful girl going to make a mess on me? Does she deserve to?”

The mere thought that he might deny your climax again has you sobbing, tears of anguished ecstasy rolling down your face as his pace picks up even further.

“P-Pleaaase – unghh – please let me. I’m a g-good girl, I’ll be so – hnngh – good, I promise.”

Sylus had no intention of denying you again, but now he physically couldn’t. Because now, watching the fat tears roll down your cheek and hearing your beautiful pleas, he too could feel himself pulse with the ache to fill you up. As he watched your breathtaking form in the mirror, he cursed the Gods for sending the only thing that could ruin him. 

You.

And yet, being ruined by you felt so damn good.

“Good for who, my love?”

Your vision has become clouded by your tears and the black spots that blot your eyesight. But the possessive purr in Sylus’s voice reaches you, through all the blinding pleasure, and makes butterflies flutter in your chest.

Your hands come up behind you to grasp behind his neck, and you strain yourself so that you turn just slightly to face him. For a second Sylus looks taken aback, but he quickly composes himself, the confident smile returning to his lips. 

“Nggghh – for you, Sylus.” The sincerity of your shaking voice wipes the cocky smirk off his face, his thrusts faltering ever so slightly. For a brief second, Sylus can’t feel anything. He can’t feel the way your cunt, on the precipice of release, squeezes so forcefully that it threatens to break him in half, the way your soaking thighs ripple against his lap as he pounds into you, the way your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head.

Fate had played a cruel trick on the two of you. Two tragically entwined Aether cores. Two birds of a feather, trapped in the cage destiny had built. 

But now, there is only you and him. Fate and destiny be damned. 

“I’m yours Sylus. Always yours.”

Your words, delicate and simpering, pull him back to reality. All the sensations he’d briefly been numbed to came crashing back. The torturously delicious way you felt around him, atop him, and against him swarmed back all at once. And to top it all off, the sight of your fluttery wide wet eyes, hazed over with a fog of lust, staring at him with such wonder and adoration. Your eyes alone were practically making love to him.

It made him absolutely feral.

You squeal, thighs doing their best to grip against Sylus’s lap as he bounces you with an unprecedented vigor, his hand holding your throat to keep you somewhat steady. You watch his muscles bulge, his much larger frame very much on display behind you. Powerful and imposing – a true god-like glory. 

“That’s fucking right, you’re mine,” he hisses in your ear, jaws clenched to hold back the moans your pussy threaten to pull from his body. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Would my slutty girl like that?"

“Y-Yes!” you squeal, so close to coming undone, “Pleeease Sylus!  I-I’m s’close, I’ll do anything please!” You were quickly losing your voice amidst all the screaming and vigorous activities.

You can see Sylus devilish smile, releasing your throat to tilt your chin towards him.

“Anything? You’re making a deal with the devil, little dove.”

With your face so dangerously close to his, he can’t resist. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing onto yours, locked in the sweltering passion of your bodies. The feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth is just enough to send you headfirst into the orgasm you’d been on the brink of for so long.

And because of that, your body couldn’t hold back the gush of excitement that squirted from where Sylus was connected to you. It’s so messy you can’t help the way your cheeks burn in embarrassment, even amidst the short circuiting of your pleasure-numbed brain. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Sylus bites out, the tautening of your orgasm stricken cunt nearly squeezing him into unconsciousness. He fucks you through your blissed out state, and it isn’t long before he follows your lead. 

Like everything Sylus does, the way he cums is frighteningly powerful. Your body involuntarily shivers at how hot he is, but more so just how much there is. You can both clearly see the thick milky white seed seeping down Sylus’s cock, even as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are slower now, but more intentional. Conveying every ounce of passion into the way he rocks into you. Overstimulation quickly grips you, and you weakly tap at his thighs.

“Sylus, no-no more. S’too much.”

“M’not done,” he groans into your ear as he continues to thrust into you, and it’s then you feel his cock still shooting ropes of his hot spend inside you. He does, however, release your clit, shoving his fingers in your mouth, knowing it'll give you something to ground yourself amidst the sensitivity while he rides out the waves of his climax. 

You gladly accept his fingers, grasping his forearm and sucking like his arm was a dessert. The taste of your mixed slick helps distract you from the intense aftershocks that wrack your body. It’s all enough to have Sylus spurting out everything he has, drained completely empty, milked utterly dry. 

When you feel him finally still, you crack your eyes open, almost scared to see the aftermath. 

The waning sun bounced beams of golden sunlight off your sweat, tears, and cum slicked bodies. Your own body was also littered in pretty little bruises, in the shape of Sylus’s teeth and fingers. Bruises in places you hadn’t even felt Sylus sink his teeth into. They quite literally looked like swirls of paint against a blank canvas. 

Your hair was a mess, and your tear stained face was no better. The area between your thighs was red and puffy, leaking an obscene amount of white cream, all the while still stuffed to the brim with Sylus’s softening member. Even half hard, he stretched you absolutely full. 

On the other hand, the man in question looked absolutely ethereal as he loomed above you in the mirror. His hair sat lusciously soft, gently blowing with the breeze entering through the cracked window. His muscles still flexed gently as they recovered from the vigorous activities, strong chest rising and falling rhythmically with his steadying heartbeat. 

And finally his eyes that watch you back so carefully, the carmine orbs half lidded with satisfied bliss. His lips stretch into that signature Sylus smirk when he catches you staring, nothing short of heart stoppingly arrogant.

He’s so unbelievably handsome, your cunt quivering again just at the sight of him. Wincing at the feeling of his cock inside you stirring back to life at your involuntary throbbing, you panic and tap furiously on his thigh. 

“Sylus, put me down.” 

Sylus chuckles, mischief coloring his scarlet eyes, “What, no ‘please’?”

You whine, not able to withstand the feeling of him stirring back to life in your absolutely spent core. Yet you can feel yourself fluttering in anticipation. And you know he can feel it too. 

You silently curse your traitorous body.

“Please.”

He laughs warmly and obliges. His strong hands grip the underside of your thighs, lifting you off of him. You cry out at the feeling, your cunt clenching at nothing, seeking him once more. Sylus inhales sharply, craving your tight warmth again. But he holds you gently against his chest, shifting so that his erection rests between his abdomen and your thigh, with you sitting sideways on his lap. 

You nuzzle your head into his chest, and Sylus’s lips come down to the top of your head, breathing in your scent and ghosting kisses into your hair. Your hands reach up to weave into his silver tresses, playing with his soft locks and delicately massaging his scalp. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, voice muffled against his skin.

When Sylus doesn’t respond, you pull away from him and look up at him expectantly. He appears to be lost in the feeling of your fingers. 

“You never said please, you could at least say thank you,” you tease, poking his soft cheek with your finger. 

Sylus looks down at you, amused danger flickering in the deep orbs of crimson. His hand leaves your thigh, slowly and tortuously crawling up your skin until he cups your face. You shiver, suddenly feel like you’re staring into the face of danger. 

“Hmm, isn’t it customary to say thank you after eating?” 

You crinkle your brows in confusion at his cryptic words, waiting for him to elaborate further. Sylus’s smug grin widens, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, basking in the excited fear brimming in your bleary eyes. 

“I’ve yet to finish my meal, little dove.” 

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

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[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us VI

Summary:

Things between Y.N and Aemond get tense as her due date approaches.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Petty Disagreements, Frustration, Kissing, Allusion to Sex, Labour, Child Birth.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 4750

A.N - Took Inspiration from Friends (The one where Rachel is late).

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

As Y.N’s due date approached, the final weeks of her pregnancy were a flurry of last-minute preparations.

She and Aemond made multiple trips to baby stores, ticking off the remaining items on their list: tiny baby clothes, boxes of nappies, and, of course, the pram.

Aemond, for all his intelligence and competence in other areas, found himself stumped by the bloody contraption.

One evening, they stood in the living room as he tried to fold the pram down. Y.N. sat on the sofa, watching him with growing amusement.

"How do you manage this with just a few clicks?" Aemond grumbled, pressing buttons, pulling levers, but the pram remained stubbornly upright.

Y.N. laughed so hard she clutched her belly.

"It’s not that hard. Watch." She stood up and, with a few quick movements, had the pram folded and set aside.

Aemond stared at the pram, then at her, and back at the pram. "You’re mocking me," he muttered, but a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Seeing her joy, even at his expense, was worth the mild humiliation.

They also hosted Alicent for dinner one evening and she had practically melted at the sight of the nursery.

The soft, cream and blue décor, the dragon mobile, and the carefully arranged baby furniture brought a wide smile to her face.

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent said, her eyes bright with pride, “This is perfect. The baby will be so loved here.”

Meanwhile, Aemond had reluctantly resumed his game nights with Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena.

While he loved spending time with his siblings, Aegon’s constant teasing about Y.N. still irritated him to no end.

He was convinced that his brother harboured a playful, if not slightly serious, attraction to her.

The knowing looks Aegon would shoot him during the evenings, paired with the offhanded comments about how lucky Aemond was, drove him mad.

Yet, for Y.N.’s sake, he kept his cool—mostly.

Except for that one incident where he may or may not have accidentally on purpose shoved Aegon's head into the table when Y.N excused herself and went to the bathroom.

At home, Y.N. had taken time off from her job and settled into a comfortable routine as her pregnancy neared its end.

However, as she edged closer to 40 weeks, she grew increasingly frustrated.

"I feel like a balloon about to pop," she grumbled one evening, sprawled on the sofa while Aemond massaged her swollen feet.

Aemond, who was trying to remain calm on the outside but was secretly on pins and needles every day at work, nodded sympathetically.

"It’ll happen when the baby is ready," he said, though inside he was just as eager as she was.

Every time his phone buzzed during meetings, he found himself hoping it was her saying it was time, only to be met with disappointment.

He had taken to keeping his phone on the loudest setting, checking it obsessively, and texting her constantly to make sure she was alright.

Each day that passed without that long-awaited call made him more anxious.

The tension in the penthouse had been unbearable over the last few days. Y.N.’s growing discomfort and frustration with being overdue had turned every small annoyance into a full-blown argument.

Aemond, while trying to be as patient as possible, found himself at a loss. Everything he did seemed to irritate her.

If he tried to comfort her, she snapped. If he gave her space, she complained he was being distant. It was driving him insane, but he knew it wasn’t really her fault.

Their sex life had also dwindled into sparse encounters, because Y.N was getting too uncomfortable and Aemond was worried about hurting the baby, which Y.N took completely the wrong way and became convinced he was disgusted by her and she bawled her eyes out until he took her to bed and devoured her cunt like a starving man.

One night, things came to a head. After yet another disagreement, Y.N. stormed off to the spare room and slammed the door shut, refusing to speak to him for two days.

Aemond, for his part, left her alone, but the silence between them weighed heavily, filling the apartment with a tension that was almost suffocating.

He kept telling himself it was just the stress and hormones, but it didn’t make it any easier.

And neither did Aegon's closeness to Y.N, it would grate on Aemond consistantly, that he would bear the brunt of her frustration but Aegon would get the smiles and the joy when he would sneak her chilli cheese bites from Burger King or Hot Wings from KFC.

Even Daeron was granted her smiles but him nooooo he was only granted the version of her that resembled a man eating beast from those damn movies she liked so much.

Sometimes she would glare at him and Aemond was convinced that she was about to eat him alive.

The tension only grew worse when they attended her final midwife appointment. They sat in the examination room, the air thick with unspoken frustrations.

As they waited for the midwife, Marie, to arrive, Aemond began rhythmically tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Y.N. shot him a glare. “Tell me, Aemond, have you always been this irritating?” she snapped.

Aemond frowned, glancing over at her. "I'm not trying to irritate you."

"Well, I guess you just have a natural talent for it," she retorted, her voice sharp and biting.

Aemond sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You know, the midwife will be here soon. Maybe we shouldn’t speak until then."

Y.N. pulled a face, her irritation flaring even more. "Oh, okay then," she said mockingly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the room filled with palpable tension.

But Y.N., too restless to let it go, spoke up again.

"Seriously, Aemond, breathe louder. That’s great," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aemond clenched his jaw, shooting her a look. "You know, we should probably ask the midwife if she even knows how to deliver a baby that’s half human and half pure evil."

Before Y.N. could respond, the door opened, and Marie entered the room, wearing her usual kind smile.

"Good morning, Marie! How are you?" Y.N. greeted her with a smile that was shockingly pleasant considering the argument she’d just been having.

Aemond shot her a sideways glance, his frustration bubbling over. "Oh, so you’re nice to her," he muttered darkly.

Y.N. rounded on him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "She has the drugs," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Marie, ever professional, pretended not to notice the exchange as she began her checkup.

"Alright, Y.N., let’s have a quick look," she said gently. Y.N. lay back on the examination table, opening her legs as Marie prepared for the exam.

"Eight days late now, huh? You must be getting pretty uncomfortable," Marie commented sympathetically.

Y.N. let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, just a bit," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Aemond scoffed beside her, but said nothing more.

Marie began the examination, then smiled up at them. "Well, you’re 80% effaced, so things are definitely progressing. But it could still take a little while longer," she explained. "If you’re feeling anxious, there are a few ways to help things along."

"Do them" Aemond blurted out, leaning forward.

The stress of the last few days, combined with his helplessness in this situation, was starting to show.

Marie gave him an understanding smile. "Actually, they’re things you can do at home. Some natural remedies that have been shown to be effective in helping labour along."

Y.N. nodded eagerly. "We’re ready to try anything," she said.

Marie began to list off the options. "Well, there’s an herbal tea you can try, eating spicy food, and taking long walks—"

"Great," Y.N. interrupted. "I’ll do those."

Marie smiled but hesitated for a moment before continuing. "However, there’s one remedy that’s proven to be most effective in encouraging labour-and that’s sex."

Y.N. looked at Aemond with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but Aemond’s face immediately fell into a look of disbelief.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Aemond and Y.N sat in the penthouse, the dinner table littered with empty plates from what felt like the hundredth spicy meal they'd shared in hopes of triggering labour.

Y.N poked at her remaining enchilada, sighing in frustration.

"Aemond, we've tried all the spicy food. It's not working," she said, exasperated.

Aemond, ever determined, pushed a small plate toward her.

"Okay, how about one of these peppers? It’s supposed to be really hot." He sounded so sure of himself, as he picked on up and took a bite.

Gasping in surprise when the spice burnt his mouth.

Y.N looked at him, rolled her eyes, but took the pepper anyway, popping it into her mouth.

She chewed it with no visible reaction, much to Aemond’s disbelief.

His eye widened as he watched her, while he took a sip of water to cool his burning tongue.

"I feel nothing," she said, almost too casually, as Aemond continued to sip from his glass. Y.N then looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Speaking of hot, watching you struggle with that pepper really makes me want to have sex with you."

Aemond nearly choked on his water, setting the glass down with a thud.

"Stop it," he muttered, wiping his mouth.

"Oh, come on," Y.N teased. "Why are we wasting time with all this other stuff? We know what's going to work. It's midwife recommended."

"We have to have some boundaries," Aemond said sternly, his resolve trying to hold firm.

Y.N scoffed. "You didn’t care about boundaries when you were putting the baby in there." She crossed her arms and raised a brow at him.

Aemond shot her a look. "As I recall, you were also an active participant."

Y.N waved her hand dismissively. "That’s not the point, and you know it."

Aemond sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’m not going to make love to you just so you’ll go into labour."

Y.N laughed loudly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Make love? What are you, a girl?"

"Always a great way to get into a man’s pants," Aemond muttered sarcastically, rolling his eye.

"No-come on wuss, make loooove to me" said Y.N smirking.

"Seriously-" exclaimed Aemond.

Y.N leaned forward, her voice dripping with humour. "Come on, just think of it as providing a service. Just think of me as a ketchup bottle—sometimes you’ve gotta bang on the end of it to get something out."

Aemond shot her a deadpan look, his voice flat. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Aemy-" Y.N whined, pouting a little as she leaned her elbows on the table. "I’m miserable here." She looked at him with wide eyes, batting her lashes playfully, and the use of her nickname for him weakened his resolve.

Aemond clenched his jaw. "You—what—never mind."

"What, Aemy? Are you not going to talk?" she teased, mockingly. "How on earth will you ever annoy me? Oh, wait a minute, I know—" She exaggerated her breathing, mimicking the way Aemond breathed loudly, then added with a smirk, "You’d think that damn pepper would’ve cleared your sinuses, but nooo-"

Before she could say anything more, Aemond lunged toward her, pulling her into a deep, heated kiss that took her by surprise.

Y.N blinked up at him, breathless. "What are you doing?"

He took her hand firmly, standing up and pulling her toward the bedroom, his face set with determination. "I’m getting that baby out of you."

Aemond was jolted awake by the sound of a pained cry and the sharp clatter of glass smashing. His heart pounded in his chest as he shot up in bed, immediately noticing that Y.N. wasn’t beside him.

Panic surged through him as he leapt out of bed, rushing toward the source of the noise.

Entering the kitchen, he found Y.N. hunched over, clutching the counter, her face twisted in pain. A shattered glass lay scattered across the floor.

"Y.N.?" he called out, his voice tight with concern.

She turned her head toward him, her face pale and strained. "I think it's time," she gasped before letting out another cry, her body wracked with pain.

Without hesitation, Aemond carefully made his way over, avoiding the broken glass, and gently took her hand. She clung to him, shaking as he helped move her away from the mess.

Y.N. suddenly gasped, looking down as a trickle of water began to run down her legs. Her wide eyes met his, fear and excitement swirling within them.

"It's definitely time," Aemond confirmed, trying to remain calm despite the rapid thudding of his heart.

"I need to get changed first," she whispered through laboured breaths.

Aemond helped her to the bedroom, supporting her as they slowly made their way across the penthouse.

He carefully dressed her in comfortable clothes, his fingers trembling as he moved. Then he quickly threw on jeans and a shirt, grabbing the suitcase Y.N. had packed weeks ago.

Just as they were about to leave, another contraction hit, and Y.N. cried out in pain, her hand clutching Aemond’s forearm tightly.

His heart ached at the sight of her discomfort, but he stayed steady, whispering reassurances.

"You're doing great. Just breathe," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

He grabbed his car keys, and together, they made their way out of the penthouse.

The drive to the hospital was agonizing for Aemond, though he tried his best to keep calm.

Every pained cry or sharp gasp from Y.N. made his hands tighten on the wheel, his heart clenching painfully.

He hated seeing her in so much discomfort, knowing there was little he could do but get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Finally, they arrived. Aemond parked the car and immediately helped Y.N. inside, gripping her hand as she leaned on him for support.

He helped her check in at the front desk, and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice trembling.

"Please, don’t leave me," she whispered, her fear evident.

Aemond's heart clenched, and he pulled her closer, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "I won’t ever leave you. I promise."

"I-I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you"

"It's ok-it's all forgotten" replied Aemond.

As she was being checked over by the nurses, Aemond quickly sent off a text to his mother, letting her know that Y.N. was in labour.

He then shot off a quick message to Helaena, knowing she’d take care of informing Aegon and Daeron.

The moment he heard Y.N. calling for him, his phone was forgotten. He rushed back into the room, his heart pounding with urgency.

"I'm here," he said softly, taking her hand in his as he knelt beside her. "I’m not going anywhere."

Hours had passed, and the labour had intensified. Y.N was in agony as each contraction ripped through her body, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Aemond remained at her side the entire time, unable to bear seeing her like this. His heart ached with every pained cry she made.

He had lashed out at the midwives more than once, demanding they do something—anything—to help her.

But all they could do was reassure him that everything was progressing as it should.

Despite his own helpless frustration, Aemond never let go of Y.N's hand, even as she squeezed it with such force he was sure his bones would crack under the pressure.

But he would endure it without a second thought. Pressing kisses to her sweat-soaked forehead, he whispered constant encouragement, telling her to breathe, reminding her she was doing great.

And then, it was time to push.

Y.N cried out, her strength nearly spent. "I don’t know if I can keep doing this," she gasped, her voice trembling with exhaustion.

Aemond immediately leaned in, his forehead pressed to hers, his voice low but firm. "Yes, you can. You’re the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I can’t live without you." His words were filled with so much love and admiration that despite her pain, Y.N found the strength to push again.

The midwife, Marie, encouraged her as the baby’s head crowned. "Just one more, Y.N. You’re so close!"

With a final scream, Y.N pushed, and suddenly, the sound of a baby’s strong, healthy cries filled the room.

Aemond’s voice trembled as he whispered, "He’s here. Oh, gods, he’s here."

Y.N, exhausted, collapsed back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

But Aemond’s joyful cry brought her back. She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up, her chest heaving as she took in the sight of their newborn son.

Aemond, eyes filled with unshed tears, helped her sit up, his hands trembling.

As Marie placed the squalling, wriggling newborn onto Y.N's chest, happy tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, he’s so beautiful," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion as she gazed down at their son.

Aemond, who rarely allowed his emotions to show so openly, sobbed quietly as he stared at the tiny life they had created.

His eye was glued to the baby’s small, delicate features—his tiny hands, his soft, silver hair, and those piercing blue eyes.

"He looks just like you," Y.N said softly, running her fingers through the baby’s soft hair. She smiled up at Aemond, who was rendered speechless by the overwhelming love he felt.

His child. Their son.

Marie gently asked, "Does he have a name?"

Y.N nodded, her voice filled with pride and love. "Jack Aemond Targaryen."

As the midwife, Marie, finished wrapping up baby Jack in a soft blanket, she turned to Aemond and asked, "Would you like to hold your son?"

Aemond froze, panic flashing in his eye. "I-I've never held a baby before."

Marie smiled reassuringly. "Don’t worry, I’ll show you how." With practiced hands, she gently placed Jack into Aemond’s arms, guiding him on how to support his tiny head.

Slowly, Aemond’s tension melted as he adjusted, the weight of his son both heavy with responsibility and light as a feather.

Before he knew it, Aemond was grinning, a quiet, proud smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at his son. Jack squirmed slightly but remained peaceful in his arms, so small and perfect.

Aemond's chest tightened with an overwhelming rush of emotion. The world around him seemed to blur, everything else vanishing as he stared at the life he had helped create.

As the midwives began tending to Y.N and the afterbirth, Aemond remained mesmerized by his son. The reality of fatherhood hit him hard in this quiet moment.

When Y.N had first told him she was pregnant, he had offered his support immediately, without hesitation. But deep down, he’d been terrified. His own father had been distant, cold—an example of everything a father shouldn’t be.

Aemond had no idea how to be a good father, how to give his son the love and care he deserved.

But now, holding Jack in his arms, a surge of love, unlike anything he had ever felt, filled him. He vowed silently, with everything in him, that his son would never feel the same isolation and neglect that he had experienced.

Jack would always know he was loved, that Aemond was there for him in every way. He would give his son the attention and affection that he himself had longed for.

Once Y.N had been helped and everything was sorted, Marie mentioned she could take a shower to freshen up.

Aemond carefully placed Jack in his cot and immediately went to help Y.N. She was a bit unsteady on her feet, the exhaustion of labour evident, so Aemond stayed close, supporting her as they made their way to the bathroom.

He washed her hair gently, his hands tender as he helped her clean up, mindful of her every movement.

She had already started bleeding, so he helped her with the pad and assisted in getting her dressed.

When they returned, he had pulled a few strings and arranged for Y.N. to have a private room.

Once she was comfortable and laid in bed, Aemond couldn’t resist stroking her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, soft and full of love.

Y.N's fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, and she whispered, "You keep kissing me."

Aemond pulled back slightly, worry creeping in. Was he pushing too much? Overwhelming her with affection when she might need space?

"Do you-want me to stop?" he asked, his voice careful, trying to hide his uncertainty.

Y.N’s fingers brushed over her lips, and she quickly replied, "No."

A wide smile broke across Aemond's face, his relief and happiness palpable. "I'm happy, Y.N. So happy."

She touched his face, her eyes soft and filled with emotion. "So am I."

This was it—the moment he had been waiting for. Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a deep breath.

Now or never. He leaned closer, his heart swelling with emotion. "I-I want to tell you that I lov—"

Before the words could leave his lips, the door burst open. Aegon strutted in, followed closely by Alicent, Daeron, and Helaena.

Aemond bit back a groan, his moment lost as his family swarmed into the room.

Alicent’s face lit up with joy as she carefully took Jack into her arms for the first time. Her eyes softened as she gazed down at her first grandchild, her smile tender and full of love.

"Oh, he's beautiful," she whispered. She gently rocked him, her heart swelling as she savoured the moment. “What’s his name?”

Aemond, standing proudly beside Y.N’s bed, smiled and said, “Jack.”

Alicent raised her brows slightly, surprised. “Jack? It’s not very Targaryen,” she remarked, though her tone was more curious than critical.

Aemond nodded. “It’s in honour of Y.N’s grandfather.”

At that, Alicent’s face softened even more. She nodded approvingly, clearly touched by the gesture.

"That's lovely," she said, staring down at her grandson with pride and affection.

Of course, Aegon couldn’t resist making his presence known. “So, Y.N.,” he asked with a mischievous grin, “how much did it hurt?”

Y.N. narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. “How about I kick you in the balls, and then you’ll have an idea?”

Aegon grimaced, backing off slightly as Daeron burst into laughter. “She’s got you there,” Daeron teased, clapping Aegon on the back.

Meanwhile, Helaena stood nearby, completely mesmerized by her tiny nephew. She leaned in, peering at him with wide, curious eyes. “He’s so perfect,” she murmured, utterly enamoured.

Suddenly, Jack began to cry, his small face scrunching up as the sound filled the room.

Alicent chuckled softly. “Sounds like someone is hungry,” she said as she carefully handed him back to Y.N.

Y.N. exposed her breast and gently guided Jack to latch on, and he began to nurse immediately, his cries fading.

A moment of quiet awe fell over the room as they watched the newborn find comfort in his mother’s arms.

Daeron shook his head in disbelief, glancing over at Aemond. “I still can’t believe you’re a dad,” he said, smiling.

Aemond, beaming with pride, hugged his younger brother. “Neither can I,” he admitted, his voice full of wonder.

Aegon, true to form, was less subtle. His attention was quickly drawn to Y.N. breastfeeding. “Whoa, look at him go. He’s definitely your kid, Aemond.”

Without missing a beat, Aemond slapped Aegon on the back of the head. “Don’t look at her breast, you pervert.”

Aegon shrugged, rubbing his head. “It was an accident.”

Aemond, his patience wearing thin, glared at him. “Get the fuck out,” he demanded.

Leaning over, Aegon pressed a soft kiss to Y.N.’s forehead. “I’ll come back soon.”

Y.N., still nursing Jack, smiled up at him and said, “Can you bring me a chocolate bar and some Lucozade when you do?”

 “Anything for you, Y.N.,” said Aegon with a cheeky grin as he sauntered out of the room, completely ignoring Aemond’s death glare.

As Aegon left, Daeron leaned in and whispered to Aemond, “He’s doing it on purpose. Ignore him, and he’ll give up.”

Aemond huffed. “He’ll give up when my fist is in his face.”

Y.N. suddenly yawned, exhausted from the day’s events. Noticing, Aemond turned to the others. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day. It’s time for Y.N. to rest.”

Alicent leaned over and kissed Y.N. gently on the cheek. “You did so well, my dear. Rest now,” she said softly.

Helaena smiled warmly. “I’ll make some meals for you both, so you won’t have to worry about cooking once you’re home.”

Aemond nodded in gratitude as Daeron gave him a firm clap on the back.

“Take care of her and the little one,” Daeron said, waving goodbye to Y.N. as the family made their way out.

After Jack finished nursing, Aemond carefully lifted him to rub his back, gently patting until the baby let out a small burp.

Smiling, Aemond placed him in the little cot beside Y.N. and tucked him in under the soft blanket Helaena had made.

Y.N., exhausted but happy, looked at Aemond. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

Aemond nodded immediately. “Of course.”

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over him.

He glanced down at their sleeping son, so small and perfect, and then over to Y.N., who had already begun to drift off, her breathing steady and calm.

Aemond smiled to himself, squeezing her hand gently, thinking how lucky he was to have both of them in his life.

Aemond hurried back to the penthouse, his mind still swirling with the overwhelming realization that he was now a father.

He moved almost on autopilot as he showered and changed into fresh clothes, but the feeling of awe and disbelief remained.

He had a son. His son. It felt surreal.

As he was about to leave for the hospital, he decided to stop by a florist and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers—Y.N.’s favourite.

He wanted to make her smile, to show her how much she meant to him, especially after everything she'd just gone through.

Returning to the hospital, Aemond's good mood evaporated the moment he walked into the room and saw Aegon sitting beside the bed, holding Jack. His brows furrowed as he asked, “Where is Y.N.?”

Aegon, lounging comfortably, glanced up with a grin. “She’s just nipped for a shower. She asked me to watch Jack. Is that okay with you?” he added with a slightly cheeky tone, knowing it would irk Aemond.

Aemond narrowed his eye but sighed. “I suppose so.”

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Y.N. appeared, looking refreshed in clean pyjamas, her hair wrapped in a towel.

A bright smile crossed her face when she saw Aemond standing there. “Oh, you’re back!” she said warmly, walking over to him.

Aemond wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a soft kiss.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her lips before handing her the sunflowers.

Y.N.’s face lit up as she took the flowers. “They’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you,” she said, kissing him again.

Aemond, still basking in her smile, then turned his attention to Jack. He took the baby from Aegon, holding his son close to his chest, instantly feeling that surge of love again as he stared at the tiny face nestled in his arms.

Meanwhile, Aegon reached for a small carrier bag sitting next to him. “Oh, by the way, I got you something,” he said, handing it to Y.N.

She peeked inside and immediately let out a squeal of excitement. “A chocolate bar and Lucozade!”

She hugged Aegon in appreciation before eagerly unwrapping the chocolate and taking a big bite. “You have no idea how much I needed this,” she sighed contentedly.

Aemond watched with a small smile but raised an eyebrow when Y.N. turned to him with more news. “Oh, while you were gone, the midwives said I could go home.”

His smile faded slightly with concern. “Already? Isn’t it a little too soon?”

Y.N. shook her head. “I’d much rather be at home. We can start getting Jack into a routine, and I’ll be more comfortable there.”

Aemond considered it for a moment before nodding. It did make sense. He wanted them home, too—where he could make sure both Y.N. and Jack had everything they needed. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

Aegon piped up then, smirking. “I’ll give you guys a hand.”

Aemond shot him a look. “I’m more than capable of handling it.”

Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, but if you’re carrying Jack, you can’t expect Y.N. to carry her suitcase after just having a baby.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, annoyed but unable to argue. Aegon was right.

Before he could reply, the midwife entered the room with a smile and a folder of paperwork. “I’ve got your discharge papers here,” she said, glancing at Y.N. and then Jack.

Aemond sighed, knowing that Aegon’s presence would continue to irritate him, but he focused on the positive—his family was going home, and that was what mattered most.

TBC

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/3/2024

having a lot of fun with toddler enrichment activities in this household, until we bit through the bag and the foil and the water and hated that experience

listening

fun citypop version of Good Luck Babe! by Amandumb and Sakura Wine, “ganbatte” scans to “good luck babe” SCARY well. this is both off a tiktok my best friend sent me and the spotify recommended weekly

-

reading

quite frankly this makes me nervous and i am backing up my blogs as we speak. i sort of believe them when they say that we won't see a difference on the front end, but this is a HUGE migration. SOMETHING is going to go not perfectly.

William Greenleaf's TIME JUMPER (1980, 224p) and Joe Millard (my beloathed)'s Blood For A Dirty Dollar (1980 European reprint of a 1973 American book, 156p). thank you philip. time jumper is from a thrift store somewhere (possibly from the free book shelf at the umass engineering library) and the cowboy book is from ebay. they lied about the condition and the heavy smoke smell so i ended up getting it for free :) in no world is that a Very Good condition book!!!

time jumper! i do not think the back cover blurb (below) is very accurate.

COMBINED DESTINIES! One Earth of the far future, city dwellers live in a technologically advanced environment, while bands of nomads barbarically hunt and farm the plains. Hidden within the city is Erin, a crazed scientist, who is constructing a timejumper. On the plains is a nomad boy who quests after the city's secrets. Unknown to both, an evil force works to keep them apart, for it knows that if they ever meet, a new Earth destiny would be inevitable!

i looooove a bubble city. i love long lingering shots of technology and city-scapes and city politics. i would not call the nomads barbarians, bc they are a trading society who set up crop irrigation in their seasonal fields and have a giant traveling library with card catalogue. i would also not call Erin crazed or hidden, bc he is the richest man in the city. reclusive, yes. single-minded, yes. pretty sane though. he is a little person and i think the book handled this fairly deftly for 1980? most of his obstacles are physical and not societal. finally, the evil force is not working to keep them apart bc it doesn't even know about the outside kid. they mostly just want to stop anyone from leaving.

now that we know the back blurb is lies, what's the deal with this book? mostly wrestling with how automation leads to a loss of purpose and flattening of culture, breaking cycles, cyclical natures of histories thereof, and repeating old sins. however, one of the more frustrating endings ive ever read with the very last paragraph containing the suicide of a minor character. we simply didn't fucking need that last paragraph.

i found the dialogue a little bland but book overall quite evocative. it felt like a sixties scifi show constructed from castoff theater sets. it felt like this screenshot from rollerball. a lot of shapes. a lot of giant gardens. a lot of flattened textures.

i also liveblogged the cowboy book here. we've previosuly looked at the one with the balloon and the jailbreak but this is the one with the mad englishman and the imported castle and the missing scientists. i love a description of Legally Not Lee van Cleef Because We Don't Have A Royalty Agreement

-

watching

X-Men: First Class (2011, dir. Vaughn) was way more fun than i was expecting??? it's fun to watch these with my bestie's husband who is a fairly intense x-men fan and Will pause the movie for several minutes to explain why a specific character's death was fucking bullshit or answer one of my stupid costuming questions

-

playing

the new mesoamerican fire-aligned nation of Natlan is out in genshin impact! VERY beautiful region even though i think it is a crime, to me personally, to show me a village of observation balloons and then tell me i can't actually go there for six weeks until the next patch.

this is a little bit more of a frustrating experience bc my tolerance for the least little thing going wrong is at record lows. once you hit 100% on a map region it feels more like a true 100% ing the area, which is a little scary bc this usually means you have anywhere from 10-20% more Stuff to do and find and collect. one quest is straight up bugged for me (very unusual) and i cannot get a specific mechanic (the yunkasaur, the little green pokemon lookin motherfucker above, flame spitting) to fire with any sort of accuracy. why have a sight and a center pip if you CANNOT aim it.

some parts of the map look a little more seussical than others.

to whoever made sure this observation balloon lined up with the window when you entered this waypoint building, i see you. thank you.

-

making

fallow week.

[dragon-queen21]

Hope it’s okay that im back :3 I saw that you said it’s cool to ask for multiple as long as they’re separate? I was also wondering if you have any thoughts for carer Diluc <3 !

Caregiver Diluc headcanons

+regressors Aether, Kaeya, and Venti

Absolutely it’s alright to send multiple requests at once! The separate part is just for my own peace of mind trying to complete things in an organized manner, especially being a multifandom blog. You did it completely right!

Also I’m answering by this one first because Diluc brain rot is real and I will take any excuse to ramble about him. Okay onto headcanons now :D

~~~

~Mondstadts’ resident papa™

~He denies it to the very end about ever caring. The copious amounts of agere gear stored at the Dawn Winery (and the smaller stash at Angel’s Share) begs to differ

~Comes homes more times than not with a little one

~He’s Aether’s main caregiver. Babysits for his brother (who 8 times out of 10 will drag Diluc into headspace along with him- he swears the younger does it on purpose but he has no proof) and for Venti. (At this point he might as well be the bard’s main cg it just isn’t ‘official’)

~Diluc’s babysat Sucrose and Albedo once or twice on the very rare chance that they are both small at the same time

~Aether accidentally called him “Dad” tried to quickly change it to “Diluc” and now it’s a running joke to call him “Dadluc”

Aether: *exists* Diluc: (pulls out adoption papers) Kaeya meanwhile: (resigned to getting another adopted brother)

~Super overprotective

~A little rough around the edges and he has definitely made his little ones cry on accident. Which usually has him freaking out and asking Jean for advice

~Grape juice >>>> apple juice. He claims it’s a healthier alternative. Aether doesn’t care either way as long as it’s in a bottle. Venti will cry once he tastes the drink, calms down after a while. And Kaeya will throw a temper tantrum (and the bottle right back at his brother’s head-)

~Tells the best bed time stories. Mostly of a certain dark knight hero that- no- he has no idea who it is under the mask- hush you’re going to ruin the story

~I have the super cute idea of Diluc babysitting all three regressors at once and them all falling asleep starfished across Diluc in his bed. He’s a living furnace it’s not the little’s ones fault he’s so comfy

[shannonmanorart]

TWST Process!

So I got a comment this morning asking if my Ignihyde piece was a Memoji---a thing I immediately had to google to even know what that means lol I'm not mad, no shade to OP but it really threw me for loop to be asked if my art is a customizable avatar.

I know this blog is mostly my fun little sketches or side projects but I am a professional artist! Even if this is a silly little side project to keep my brain from falling it the abyss, it's still my art I drew with my own hands and it's important to me for people to know that!

Process breakdowns below the cut! it's not very detailed but figured i'd be fun to show a peak behind the curtain!

First things first! I do all of these in Proceate on my iPad! These are very casual and just for me to have fun--I'm very burnt out after my associate art direction job on Hit Monkey so I'm just trying to give myself a tiny piece of joy so I can get myself back to drawing my web comic and merch for cons/my store.

I draw each dorm in their own file just to keep things from getting too cluttered. The group shots I do separately in another file. So I'll finish them, flatten them and paste them into another file to size them up together/add backgrounds/effects. I included screenshots to show the breakdown of the original drawings along with the group shot. Nothing too fancy. Also forgive all the unnamed layers x_x I am usually incredibly organized but typing on my iPad annoys me so I tend to not name Procreate layers. You can see where I thought about it by naming ONE layer.

Here is the timelapse for The Ignihyde boys! You'll notice I keep Ace+Deuce in the file--I use them as a base reference for the stylization. I stylize everyone a bit differently but I try to maintain some consistency. I also reuse some bits of their palette as a piece of that consistency. You can also see me go 'oh yeah Ortho's hip thing goes all the way around so we should see it behind him........oh no. nvm that looks bad.' lol

What was most important for me to sell with these two was the difference of their personalities. I was aiming for that 'Someone will die' 'of fun!!' vibe haha So I wanted Idia very compact and to himself while Ortho is energetic and friendly. I also wanted to bring some design elements of Hades face to Idia's face. His bangs cover it up but I gave him a long nose that starts right from his brow the way they stylize them in the movie. I also gave them more color to their skintone but kept Idia more ashen/desaturated--I liked the idea of him looking kinda grey to match Hades instead of just pale.

Here's the non-default brushes I use--Jingsketch brushes are available here and the free comic brushes I got from Di Brushes. I'm usually a default brush kinda person but Procreate's default textured stuff wasn't really doing it for me anymore. I really like using stuff that looks more like pencil or pastel. I've also been addicted to adding noise a lot to my pieces. I know that's not the most original thing in the world but idk, it looks cool. My group shots always get a layer of noise.

But yeah, that's it! These are purposely kept pretty simple so I can knock each one out in about two hours or so. More detailed dorm outfits obviously take longer--I hand drew all the patterns on the Pomefiore kids like a mad man. Every time I erased the edges, I went 'I should probably copy and paste this' and then never did. I love making things harder for myself lmao

See y'all in Diasomnia! (I also have plans to draw my MC and Grim so Diasomnia won't be goodbye~)

[lailoken]

ok this is prolly a Dumbass question. but a lot of witchcraft ppl seem to use plants like datura, belladona, aconite, for their psychoactive properties in witchcraft- Are there any witchcraft people that just skip the whole plant foraging/gardening/obtaining bit and decide to just do shrooms or acid, or benadryl/dph i guess if one happens to just like deleriants? dph is rlly bad for health (is so bad) but tbh so is datura,.. though dph you can usually get at a convenince store. Or is it not considered spiritual if it’s a synthetic?

(I dont mean this to be offensive btw i think occult things r cool and im faded than a hoe rn. Coolio blog)

I'm sure there are practitioners who attempt to undergo Poison Path work using only synthetic drugs, but I don't really know anything about that, and so I can't speak to it very well.

I do, however, believe that working with the spirits of plants is at least as important to the process of such work as the psychoactive effects. I can grasp working with the spirit of Belladonna, but I have a much harder time envisioning myself trying to work with the spirit of a drugstore antihistamine. I also believe it's meaningful that many entheogenic plants (such as ones you listed here, including Psilocybin Mushrooms) have a longstanding traditional record of religious/cultic usage by initiated masters in their respective cultures. For these reasons, among others, I would not consider using synthetic, storebought drugs.

I also think there is a big difference between someone who messes around with party drugs and likes the idea of trying to get a bit spiritual with it, and someone who conscientiously dedicates themselves to Poison Path work. Altered brain chemistry can help the mind to see past certain filters and preconceptions, and it can also help one to look inward, but if there isn't a thoughtful, purposeful, and spiritual framework behind using an entheogenic substance, then it seems likely that it's mostly about getting high.

Finally, I want to add that, while substances such as datura are definitely dangerous, they are often used with far more reverence, caution, and frugality when approached by a serious practitioner. My husband is Oathbound to the Tutelary Spirit of Datura, but only once, under extraordinary circumstances, has that included using the plant entheogenically. He undertook the ritual with fearful respect and the utmost care, and it was an extremely meaningful experience for him, but it's not one he's likely to undertake again anytime soon. As he puts it, "She is a harsh teacher." I think part of the reason so many of these plants (particularly poisonous varieties of Ranunculaceae and Solanacea) are as harsh as they are is because they demand commitment and humility (along with self-defense, of course), which is why you pretty much hear only horror stories from most folks who attempt to use such substances lightly.

[alovesongtheywrote]

Hide and Seek | Eddie Munson x Reader

♥ Summary:  When your first meeting with boyfriend's family goes off the rails to a murderous degree, you call your cute co-worker for help. as it turns out, he has a couple demonic tricks up his sleeves [Demon!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]

♥ Warnings:  18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. graphic violence, extreme gore, a rape metaphor, threats of sa, vomiting, stabbing, murder and attempted murder, gun related violence, violence against women, derogatory terms used for the reader by someone other than eddie (whore, slut, skank), multiple side characters infer that the only purpose of individuals with wombs is to have children/make sacrifices for others, unprotected sex, p in v sex, mild breeding kink, monster fucking, angst, mediocre smut imo, fluff. if you've ever seen ready or not, take that, and combine it with labour paris paloma. if i missed anything, please let me know so i can tag it

♥ A/N: other content tags include: modern au. demon au. there's vague lore to this, i might write a follow up. for more author's note, please check the bottom of this post.

♥ Word count:  23041

♥♥♥

“Grace couldn't be happier after she marries the man of her dreams at his family's luxurious estate. There's just one catch- she must now hide from midnight until dawn while her new in-laws hunt her down with guns, crossbows and other weapons.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you hissed, snatching the movie away from your coworker, “Do not read that shit to me right now, I’m anxious enough as it is.”

A laugh slipped out from Eddie’s soft lips as he scrunched his face up in sympathy, “That bad, huh?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands, “I never should’ve agreed to this.  I’m so stupid.”

Eddie shrugged, pouting slightly, “No, you’re stupid for other reasons.  This isn’t stupid.  This is far from stupid.  You’re just meeting your boyfriend’s family, I mean, that was gonna happen one way or another, right?”

You didn’t give a verbal response right away.  You just let out a pained scream, muffling the sound of it with your palms.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Eddie gave your arm a sympathetic pat.

“It’s just,” you pulled your hands away from your face, “It feels so soon- and I didn’t think my first meeting with them would be a weekend long getaway at their giant fucking mansion.  How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that?  A giant fucking mansion?  Who the fuck has a giant mansion in this economy?”

“Your boyfriend’s parents.”

You let out another distressed sound, “I mean, I knew Roman had money, I just… I didn’t know it was McMansion money.”

Eddie nodded, hopping up on the counter of the always quiet video store, “I see.  So what exactly are you afraid of here?  Slipping on marble floors?  Breaking their solid gold antiques?  Using the wrong fork in such an egregious fashion that you get yelled at?”

“Honestly, I’m mostly afraid of blaspheming or something.  His parents are like, hyper-Catholic.”

A smile crossed your face, but it faded far too fast for Eddie’s taste, “God, his parents are gonna hate me.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, or an adorable baby cow.  You weren’t entirely sure how he managed to pull off that expression.  Everything about his appearance seemed to scream tough, scary metalhead- except for his eyes.  His eyes betrayed the fact that under layers of leather, chains, and eyeliner, Eddie Munson was deeply kind.

“And now you’ve lost me,” he leaned back, tipping himself over the counter to a dangerous level, “How could anyone hate you, angel?”

“Eddie, I work a minimum wage job in a nearly-defunct movie store that sells DVDs.  I go to a community college for a degree that won’t take me anywhere.  I’m pathetic, and I have no energy ninety percent of the time, and even though I’m going to try and look nice this weekend, I know I’ll look like a mess.  I’m nothing.  I’m nothing, and I’m going nowhere, and in a hundred years I won’t be anything more than a footnote on a footnote on their son’s wikipedia page.  They’re gonna see that I’m not good enough for him.  I’m never gonna be enough for him and they’re gonna hate me for it.”

“Sweetheart-” his eyes were wide.  He looked completely shocked, taken aback that you saw yourself as nothing.

“You know, whenever we get an angry customer, everyone here hides behind you?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going.  Eddie continued, “It’s because you’re strong as hell and you’re terrifying- and you can make anyone see reason.  You’re smart as fuck and you take no shit from anyone.  You’re the furthest thing in the world from pathetic..”

“You’re just saying that-”

“I’m not!” he leaned forward, “I promise!  And I mean, besides all that, you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met- and you’re definitely the hottest.”

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, finally cracking a smile, “You know Steve.”

“‘The Hair?’  Well, I mean, I have eyes, I know he’s gorgeous, but you?  You’re a total knockout,” he threw a few punches into the air.  You couldn’t hold back your laugh.

He smiled at you, just admiring the way you wheezed at his eccentricities.  

“You aren’t nothing,” he said as your laughter subsided.  

“I know,” you didn’t really believe your own words.  You were pretty sure he picked up on that.

“I’m serious!  You could have the entire world if you wanted it.  Forget a hundred years, I give it six months before the Earth is yours.”

“Are you sure about that?” “Six months!  Then the world is yours and the rest of us are just living in it.”

You scoffed, hopping up on the counter beside him, “Make it four.”

“Or less!”

A soft, content silence passed over the two of you.  You watched as Eddie’s long, slender fingers tapped a beat into his thigh.  You reached out, taking his hand into your own, running your thumb over the blue veins that lay beneath his skin.  God, you didn’t know a person could have such beautiful hands.

“Still,” with his hand still in yours, you leaned into his shoulder, using it as an oddly soft pillow while you spoke, “Even if I am taking over the world, I haven’t done it yet- so this weekend is going to fucking suck.”

“Hey, if there’s anyone who can deal with hellish in-laws, it would be you.  Pretend they’re just customers.   If anyone can deal with a couple of rich in-laws for a weekend, it’s you.”

“Is it?” you sighed, “Or are they gonna kill me because I used the wrong salad fork?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, a smirk crossing his lips.  He gave your hand a squeeze and let go before he jumped off the cash desk, “They’re not gonna kill you, sweetheart.  You think Roman would let them?”

“Who knows?  Think of Grace.  Think of Chris Washington.  This could totally be a Get Out, or a Ready or Not!”

You were playing around now, dabbling in worst case scenarios to ease some pressure off of your worried mind.  Eddie played along with you, as he so often did.

“You’re right.  You’re totally gonna get murdered this weekend.  I’ll have to find someone to pick up your Monday shift.”

“I know,” you feigned a wince,  “Sorry in advance.  I’ll be too busy getting sacrificed to the devil.”

Eddie paused for a split second.  His smile wavered so briefly that you didn’t quite catch it as you continued on your dramatic rant.

“And yes, I should have informed the company over text, at least!  But!” you shrugged, “I was too busy getting murdered by my in-laws.”

“That’s no excuse!” Eddie gasped, taking on some weird, posh sounding accent- presumably the sound of the bourgeoisie, “You should know that the interests of Family Video come before personal crap like getting murdered.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Boss Man.  I’d ask you not to fire me, but, y’know.  I’m dead.”

Eddie’s smile returned in full force as he twisted away from you, focusing on the new task of placing films back on their shelves.  As you gazed at his back, gears began to turn in your brain.  Maybe keeping someone in the know about your whereabouts wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

“Hey, Eddie?  Would it- would it be okay if I did inform you?  Over text?  If something happens, I mean.”

He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was much softer, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, sweetheart.”

“I know that.  Logically, I know that- I’m talking about a scenario where everything goes terribly wrong and I end up offending the hell out of his parents.  If they hate me, can I call you?”

Eddie nodded, his sweet eyes widening as his strong hands wrapped around the plastic case of another film.  

“Of course, sweetheart.  Of course.”

You bit your lip as you watched him turn.  The way Eddie spoke to you filled something inside of you.  It met a deep dark need that ached somewhere in your chest.  You wondered if, in a different universe- one where you had met Eddie before you met Roman- you would still have that need.  

You kept your eyes on Eddie for a few minutes before you finally turned away.

-

Hours later, the clicking sound of your heels echoed across the front lawn of a rather imposing mansion.  The smell of freshly cut grass overtook your senses, nearly covering the underlying stench of metal.  Already, the grass was covered in fallen Autumn leaves.  

A mildly uncomfortable dress clung to your body, exposing your shoulders to the chill of the early evening air.  An expensive bottle of red wine sat heavy in your hands.  Behind you, you could hear the muttering of butlers (butlers!) as your luggage was removed from the car you’d arrived in.

Roman stood at your side, his piercing blue eyes dead focused on the door a few paces ahead of you.  His suit was perfectly tailored to every sharp edge of his toned form.  The harsh scent of his expensive cologne stung your nose.  He was the very picture of confidence- next to him, you felt like a lost, sad stray puppy.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked, not bothering to turn to face him.  You knew he wouldn’t look you in the eye for a question this trivial, “You really think I’m ready to meet-”

“You are,” there was no hesitation in your paramour’s voice.  There was no compassion, either.

“And you think they’re ready to meet me?”

When you were met with silence, you steeled yourself.  You took a deep breath, clenching your fists as your lungs filled with the scent of cut grass and cologne.

“Now, the second that door opens, you are quiet and polite, got that?  Don’t speak out of turn, laugh softly, and for once in your life, do as I ask.”

You didn’t have time to respond.

The door swung open as you and Roman approached, revealing the smiling faces of a middle aged couple.  You had been informed about them on the car ride up- and you didn’t fail to notice the way they looked you up and down, judging you in a practiced silent way.  

The woman, Roman’s mother, had short dark hair, styled neatly so her bangs framed her unwrinkled face.  From what you’d been told, she was a fan of diamonds, anti-aging creams, and vintage reds- hence the bottle in your hands.  The man next to her, Roman’s father, Benedict, shared your boyfriend’s piercing blue eyes.  The watch on his wrist was expensive, though you already knew it would be.  When it came to the finer things in life, Benedict (never Ben) was something of a collector.  

The couple was perfectly warm as they welcomed you into their home.  Cecilia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and Benedict clapped his son on the back, expressing a sort of fatherly pride.  Still, as you stepped through the heavy oak doors, you were overwhelmed with a sense of wrongness.  It took all your strength to smile through it.  You had to ignore every instinct you had- all of which were currently screaming for you to run.  

A chill ran up your spine as the doors swung shut behind you, trapping you inside with a heavy thud.  Someone took the wine from your hands.  You had no choice now.  You were in.

You tried to shake off your unease as you moved through the hallways.  Each space you entered dripped with the trappings of wealth.  Everything was crafted with fine materials by the very best craftsmen.  The decorations were decadent and modern and entirely overwhelming.  You could just tell that everything in this house was more expensive than your car.  

You did your best to listen as Cecilia and Benedict took turns delivering the history of the marble floors and fancy trims, but you couldn’t help but focus on their taste in wall decor.  Oil portraits hung on the walls; painted visages of men and women stared down from golden frames.  Their bodies were bathed in painted finery, and their eyes seemed to watch you as you passed through their hallway.

“Ah, I see you have an eye for art!” Benedict exclaimed, stepping away from your side for a moment to gesture to the portrait of one woman in specific.  She had the saddest honey-brown eyes you had ever seen.  You wanted to reach out and hold her hand- which was odd, considering the fact that she was a painting.  

Benedict continued, ignoring you as you became lost in your own mind, “These paintings are all originals, all commissioned by the family.”

Your eyes followed the line of portraits as far as you could see.  In each gilded frame, a different face peered out at you with sad, desperate eyes.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Cecilia took your elbow in her hand, pulling you closer to the painting of the brown-eyed girl, “She was Benedict's darling first wife.  She passed so tragically young.”

Her words told a tragic tale, but her tone was nothing short of upbeat.  You stood straighter, becoming more aware of Cecilia’s proximity to you and the smile on her face as she continued to speak of Benedict’s late partner.You couldn’t help but notice that the woman in the frame was missing a ring.  

“She died in childbirth, as did her baby- her only child.  When she left us, we had this portrait made.”

“Tragically, that’s the case with most of these old things,” Roman said, placing a hand on the small of your back, “When a LeBuer passes, we commemorate their life with art.  It’s a nice way to keep them close- to keep them from leaving.  Someday soon, you’ll join them.”

You nodded, entirely unsure of how to respond to that statement.  All of your jokes with Eddie had been just that- jokes.  Now, however, with the eyes of the portraits boring into you, you were actually starting to get freaked out.  

“Come now,” Benedict’s voice boomed through the hallway as he guided the group away from the portrait and down the corridor, “It would be rude to leave the rest of the family waiting.”

“Oh, yes.  They’ve all been so excited to meet you!  Roman has told us such wonderful things.”

You peered at Roman from the corner of your eye, wondering what, exactly, he had told his family.  He kept his gaze on the portrait, glaring at the woman within as if she had done him a personal injustice.  He remained there, stock still with that look on his face until his parents pulled you away, leaving Roman behind.

A short ways away, the hall opened up into a second foyer that was somehow even grander than the first.  A chaise lounge sat in the middle of the room.  On a small table next to it, dried flowers sat perfectly arranged in a vase that definitely cost more than you could hope to make in a lifetime.  An elegant staircase twisted up one wall.  Beneath it stood an oak door, covered from top to bottom with fine gold detailing.  When you looked closer, you could see that the gold made up tiny illustrations of what you had to assume were biblical stories.

The other walls were decorated with more portraits.  More finely dressed men and women, more piercing eyes staring down from gilded frames.  You suppressed a shiver of discomfort.

Roman’s parents stopped you just as you reached the door beneath the stairs.  Benedict  stood behind you, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders as Cecilia gathered your hands in her own.

“Now, some members of the family were unable to make it- tonight you’ll be meeting our daughter Medea-”

“And her no good husband,” Benedict continued, the tone of his voice and Cecilia’s eye roll betraying the truth behind his joke. 

“You’ll also meet our eldest son, Adam, and Roman’s aunt and uncle, their son, and-”

“Cathrine,” Roman announced his return to the group, “You’ll get to meet Cathrine.”

Honestly, you had no clue who the fuck that was.  Cathrine could’ve been the family pet for all you knew- but something about the way Roman’s lips curved around her name, the way his voice took on a tender tone that he never even used with you- that said otherwise.

“Are you ready, dear?”  Cecilia took your hands in hers again as she asked.  Her words were kind, but you couldn’t help but think her smile looked fake.  You drew in a harsh breath.  Your heart began to race in your chest.  You drew your lower lip between your teeth, nibbling at it as your nerves twisted in an anxious dance.  Cecilia’s hand drifted up towards her neck, where she laid a few dainty fingers over a necklace- a gold chain and a crucifix.  For a split second, and only a split second, you could see disgust cross her face.

“I-” you stuttered, “I think I need a moment.”

Cecilia said nothing.  She no longer looked like she wanted to throw up at the very sight of you, but there was still a cold look in her eyes.  Benedict was unaffected by his wife’s sudden frost.

“Just as well!  We’ll let the family know you’ve arrived.”

He took his wife by the elbow and gestured for his son to follow, guiding them both through the massive doors into what looked like a void of darkness.  Before you could question it, the patriarch’s voice called out to you.

“Come in soon, dear.  They’re waiting for you.”

You smiled, attempting to cover the tremor that ran through you at the echoing sound of Benedict’s voice.  The second the doors shut behind the happy family, you let your facade drop.  You collapsed onto the chaise lounge.  At a different time, you might’ve felt glamorous doing that, in the moment, you just felt anxious.

Moving quickly, you pulled your phone from your dress pocket.  Your lockscreen was a photo of you and Roman at a beach.  His arm was wrapped around you, his eyes and smile confident and self assured.  Beside him, you simply looked inadequate- tired and anxious.  Unlocking the phone, you were met with your homescreen- a photo of you and Eddie where the flash made his eyes go red- and a text from the man himself.

EDDIE: hope you got to the haunted mansion safe and sound (ooooooo ooooooo *spooky sounds*)

Your thumbs flew as you typed a response.

Y/N: i’m here, and i haven’t been murdered yet.  this place is fucking *weird* though

EDDIE: what brand of weird are we talkin??  good weird?  bad weird?  me weird?  that time gareth got drunk and tried to organize the gravel behind my place weird?

You paused, smiling before you resumed typing.

Y/N: ok, tbh, i don’t think anything is gonna top gareth weird

Y/N: but things are like… weird weird.  

Y/N: i don’t mean to be a bitch.  his family is perfectly nice, it’s just…  they have paintings??  oil paintings of all these dead people.  apparently they’re all relatives, but there are so many of them

EDDIE: huh

EDDIE: maybe it isn’t ready or not, maybe you’re in crimson peak, and one of his relatives is murdering all of their wives 

EDDIE: hey if you see tom hiddleston wandering around looking sad, lmk, i wanna get in on that

Y/N: ha ha, very funny

Y/N: but seriously, i hate these damn paintings- it feels like the eyes are following me

Y/N: I’m On Edge, eds. seriously, Roman told me I was gonna join the paintings on the wall one day, and maybe it was a marriage proposal, but it felt more like a threat

There was a pause, a moment where all you had were three little dots telling you he was typing.  For a split second, the storm of anxiety brewing in your chest threatened to overtake you.  Your breath came in harsh pants as your hands began to shake.  Eddie would think you were overreacting.  It was just a comment from your boyfriend- you thought for sure Eddie would call you crazy.  Roman would have called you crazy.  

EDDIE: do you want me to come get you?  I can be there in half an hour if i drive fast enough

Just like that, the storm faded.  The thundering beat of your heart returned to normal.  You couldn’t help the grin that crossed your face as you stared at your phone, nor could you withhold the relieved sigh that left your lungs.

Y/N: don’t break any traffic laws for me just yet… but leave your phone on, just in case

EDDIE: as you wish.  stay safe, sweetheart 

You stared at your phone until the screen went black, trying to fight the warmth that crept up your face.  After years of knowing Eddie, those damn pet names never lost their effect on you.  You tried to shake it off, steeling yourself to prepare for your next challenge.

In-laws.

With a calming deep breath- and then a second and third calming deep breath when the first one didn’t do its job- you pushed open the doors and made your way into the next impossibly fancy room.  

Immediately, you were overcome with the sense that the very act of entering this room was a massive mistake.  It was almost as if the space itself knew you did not belong inside of it.  

A wide, oval shaped table took center stage in the middle of the room.  Like everything else in the house, it was finely crafted- and probably custom made.  The surface was carved with strange, intricate shapes.  Chairs had been scattered around it haphazardly, as if a family sat down only to get right back up again.  The walls were covered in paintings alongside various taxidermied trophies from various hunts.  Unlike the paintings, the glass eyes of the deer, foxes, rabbits and bears didn’t seem to follow you.  Two cabinets sat at the far end of the room, both well stocked with guns and other weapons that you could just see through beautiful glass panes.

The entire LeBuer family fell silent and turned to face you, as if you had rudely interrupted each and every one of their conversations.

You stood there for a moment, facing Roman’s family with wide eyes.  His parents were standing with a pregnant woman, her hands clutching the arm of the man that stood beside her.  That would probably be Medea and her husband if Benedict ’s clenched fists were anything to go by.  Across the room from them, another couple stood talking to two young men, presumably Roman’s aunt and uncle, his brother and his cousin.  At the very back of the room, in front of a massive portrait of a dark-eyed man with a devilish smirk, stood Roman.  With him was a woman you did not recognize.  Cathrine.

Each and every one of them wore an expression like you had just kicked their dog.  Lovely.

The room seemed to drop a few degrees in the following moments.  Silence filled the air as you stared at the family, and they stared back.  You had half a mind to turn right back around and call Eddie, and you were about to follow through with it when Benedict moved towards you.

“Ladies and gentlemen!  And other creatures of the night,” he pointed at Roman’s uncle with a grin, “It is my honour and privilege to introduce you to the newest member of the family.”

You felt like that was a bit extreme, but really, you were just glad someone was talking.

“Miss (L/N),” Benedict ’s hand was on your back, guiding you through the room, “I’d like to introduce you to my brother, his lovely wife, their son, Alexander, and our boy Adam.”

You tried to hide the tremor in your fingers as you made your introductions and shook their hands.  Roman’s aunt and uncle gave you polite but cold smiles.  Alexander looked completely uninterested in you.  Adam almost looked too interested.  He wouldn’t let go of your hand until you pulled away with moderate force.  The smell of his cologne was overwhelming.

The storm of anxiety Eddie had eased moments before had returned in full.  You could feel it clawing at your ribs- it was a force of nature that became less like a weather event and more like a feral creature the longer you stood in that room.  Every moment you spent speaking to Roman’s family was a moment your instincts screamed at you for not running away.

But you were being silly.  These were just nerves.  You wanted to make a good impression.  You wanted to get along with Roman’s family.  You wanted them to approve of you- to make him happy.  He wasn’t even looking at you.  Even as you crossed the room, as you were introduced to his sister and his brother-in-law, his eyes stayed on that other woman.  Cathrine.

“We’re so excited that Roman has finally found someone,” Medea let go of her husband’s arm, placing her hands over her bump, “Maybe our little guy will have a friend to run around with someday soon.”

You didn’t even try to make your laugh sound genuine.  You just smiled, and nodded, and pretended you were totally down with that idea.  

You were not totally down with that idea.

“Roman!” Benedict  called out, “Come here, son.  Introduce your sweet girl to dear (Y/N).”

It took you a moment to process Benedict ’s words- his phrasing was odd, and perhaps it would be a touch hurtful if you were a jealous woman.  

Across the room, Roman took Cathrine’s hand, cradling it gently in his.  He looked at her like she was precious to him, as if she was something he’d searched all of time and space for and finally found.  He looked at her as if she was a divine and expensive creature.  

If you were a jealous woman, this would have been more than a touch hurtful- it would have been a punch hurtful, perhaps.  Roman never looked at you that way.

“(Y/N), dear, this is Cathrine,” those weren’t Roman’s words.  He didn’t even bother to introduce you to her.  His mother did, “She was a childhood friend of Roman’s.”

“They’ve always been close,” Benedict said, putting a hand on your shoulder.  It was probably meant to be reassuring, but it felt like a dead weight on your back, pushing you forward into the event horizon of a black hole.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for so long,” Cathrine smiled at you, her voice was sweet as honey- with a special sort of poison lurking just beneath, “Roman’s told me so many good things.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you tapped your fingers against your wrist in a rapid, anxious rhythm, “I’d be a little sad if he only told you bad things.”

Cathrine laughed, but the sound was fake; a cheap plastic vase in the place of a porcelain one.  You knew your joke was bad, but still, the sound put you on edge.  When her tiny nose wrinkled with laughter, you were almost sure she was scowling at you.  As her chest rose and fell, you caught sight of her choice of jewelry- a gold chain with a dainty crucifix.  

“Oh,” she hummed, “You’re so funny!  That’s such a good trait.  You’re so pretty, too.  I’m so glad Roman picked you.”

She looked at you the way a hawk would look at its prey moments before they tore it into little tiny pieces.  You thanked her quickly and cast your gaze to the floor, unable to stare down her bloodthirsty expression.

You didn’t have to avoid her gaze for long.  The massive doors creaked open.  The sound echoed through the room.  Neatly dressed men in white shirts and black dress pants filed through, each of them carrying a tray with a single flute of champagne on it.  It seemed incredibly inefficient, but you were just happy that something had distracted Cathrine from her murderous thoughts.

Benedict took his place at the head of the table, standing behind the chair that you assumed was his.  The rest of the family followed suit.  There was a place saved for you beside Roman.  Feeling petty, you took a spot away from him- an empty seat closer to the head of the table.  No one seemed to mind, and the place that would have been yours was filled by Alexander.  

“My beloved family,” Benedict  raised his glass, “A toast!  To good company, good fortune, and a bright future.”

You watched Roman’s family toast and drink.  You did the same.  You had never tasted such salty champagne.  

Benedict continued, “To my brother-” he turned to Roman’s uncle, but you could not make out the man’s face.  You shook your head, trying to clear your head.  Benedict’s voice became briefly inaudible as your vision blurred.

No one paid you any mind.  Roman’s father continued, his glass still held aloft, “To my darling wife-”

You gripped onto your glass, breath coming fast as Benedict’s voice faded in and out.  Black dots swam in front of you.  Something was very wrong.

“My dear children.  You have ensured that our family will prosper for yet another generation.  First, my sweet Medea, and now Roman.  You’ve brought home the perfect girl- and the perfect sacrifice.”

You couldn’t have heard that right.  The world seemed to sway, spinning around as you tried to stay steady on your feet.  Your stomach flipped and your throat burned as you fought the urge to vomit all over the table.   

“You’ve done an excellent job, Roman,” Cecilia’s voice was immeasurably fond.  Her eyes were on you.

“Did you really have to pick such a cute sacrifice, though?”  Medea whined, “Now your kid is going to be cuter than mine.”

“Does the demon have a preference?”

You stumbled backwards, champagne glass slipping from your hand as you tripped away from the family.  The sound of shattering glass was entirely lost on you.

“What-” your voice was weak.  You could barely hear yourself over the static in your ears, “What the fuck-?”

“Relax now, dear,” Benedict put a hand on your shoulder, “You will come to understand in time.”

You jerked away from him, nearly collapsing to the floor in your haste to get away.  You could see Roman approaching you, hands outstretched as if you were some feral creature he wanted to soothe.

“Darling,” he whispered.  You couldn’t hear him, you could only see his lips moving.

“The drugs are in her system, Roman.  You’ll have to speak up.”

Roman sighed, throwing his hands in the air as if annoyed that he’d have to expend anymore energy on calming you.  You were kind of used to that gesture, actually.

“(Y/N), darling- my family has a tradition.  We can’t further the family line until-”

“Until we spill the blood of an innocent and summon the ancient gods,” Cathrine spoke, stepping towards Roman and wrapping her arms around his waist.  She grinned as confusion spilled across your features, and she spoke to you as if you were a small child, “Don’t you understand?  You’re here because I wanted to have a child with my husband.”

Ice spilled through your veins as realization sunk in.  The agony of betrayal bit at your heels like the feral dog this family imagined you to be.  Anguish spread through you, burning in your throat and behind your eyes.  You were hurt, you were sick, and over everything else, you were annoyed.

Because you had been right, and Eddie would never hear about it from you.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Roman took a step closer, “I wasn’t the only one in our relationship who loved someone else.  I had Cathrine.  You had that boy from your work. You should have stayed with him.”

Roman’s words stung like tiny razors dancing across your skin.  Of course this was mostly because he was excusing his own deceit, but it was also because he was kind of right.  You didn’t want to admit it.  You didn’t want your killer to be right about anything- but here, in what could be your last moments, you were thinking of Eddie.

You made an attempt at retreat, but your back hit something.  A cabinet.  

Roman’s eyes were on you.  His family’s eyes were on you.  His wife’s eyes were on you.  Your intuition had been right all along- you were the prey, and they were the hunters.  You were never welcome here.  You were never going to be welcome here.  Your mind raced, eyes flitting around as you tried to find a way out.  They were going to kill you.  Roman’s family was going to kill you in a stupid, cliche way.

But the LeBuer family, in their infinite wisdom, had made a mistake.

They backed their prey into a cabinet filled with guns.

You let out a shuddering breath, folding in on yourself as you tried to project the image of a woman defeated.  You let out a sob, a genuine sound, even though it was a distraction.

“You’re right,” your voice betrayed your terror, “For both our sakes.  I should have stayed with Eddie.”

Roman didn’t have time to ask what you meant.  None of them did, and you couldn’t imagine them being super curious about what you had to say, anyway.  You were livestock to them.  Something to stab so that they could further their family lineage, or whatever the fuck they had said.  You couldn’t remember it clearly, and as you stood, the thought completely vanished from your mind.

Adrenaline flooded through your system as you threw your elbow into the glass panes of the display cabinet.  You didn’t feel the glass pierce your skin, or your blood dripping over the wood.  You just felt the solid reassuring presence of a weapon in your hands.  

You weren’t sure if it was loaded.  Even if it was, you were not confident in your ability to shoot straight given your drugged state.  Therefore, when the first of Roman’s family members approached you, you decided to use the shotgun in your hands as a club.

Alex went down like a fucking chump.

You hit him in the face and he collapsed to the floor with a sharp screech.  Adam was next.  You ducked under his open arms and nailed him on the inside of his thigh with the butt of the gun.  Just as he fell to the ground, Roman’s uncle moved in.  You jumped up, hitting his chin from below and sending him stumbling into his wife.

The other members of the family began to back away.  You turned the gun in your arms, aiming it at them as if you knew what you were doing.  They raised their hands in surrender.  You kept the weapon trained on them as you began to stumble through the room, your back to the wall as you headed for the door.

“Now, (Y/N), sweetheart,” Cecilia began, “You have to understand- this is for the greater good!  Your sacrifice would give Roman and Cathrine the ultimate gift- a child!  Don’t you want that for them?  Don’t they deserve it?  The joys of mother and fatherhood?”

“Isn’t this your place as a woman?” Adam decided to join in, “To give life?  Don’t you want to fulfill your duty as a woman?”

“Don’t you love our son, (Y/N)?” Benedict  asked, “Please, help him with this.  No marriage is truly blessed without children.”

You almost lowered the weapon, shocked at their audacity, “It was never gonna work out.  Turns out he’s married.”

You were almost there, almost out.  Just another few steps, and then you could run.  You didn’t know how far you would get, how long the adrenaline would last, but it had to get you somewhere, right?

You would call Eddie.  You had to call Eddie.

Just as you formed a concrete plan in your mind, someone’s arms wrapped around your throat.  They pulled you back, nearly throwing you to the floor before you had a chance to fight back.  You scratched at their hands with your free one, managing to draw blood.  The angle was awkward, but you did your best, using the gun to try and beat them away from you.  They tried their best to pry the thing from your hands.  You fought back.  Their arm was tight against your windpipe.  With their other hand, they reached down.  Their finger wrapped around the trigger.

The sound of a shot made your ears ring.  The arms around your throat dropped in a millisecond.  You stumbled away, hand wrapping around the gun as you dared to glance behind you.  

Roman’s uncle was on the ground.  The space where his face had been was nothing more than a mass of blood, bits of skull, and scattered brains.

You aimed the gun at your hunters.  You could faintly hear Roman’s aunt screaming, but you tuned her out.  It was easy enough- your ears were still ringing.

“Are you still going to kill me?”

There was a moment of silence.  Blood pooled on the marble floor near your feet.  The light from the chandelier caught on the broken champagne glass you’d left on the floor.  You were seeing double again.

Roman nodded.  So did the second, drug fueled vision of him that only you could see.

“Fine,” you hissed, shutting your eyes against the harsh reality you were facing.  When you opened them again, Roman was much closer, staring you down with a look of pure disappointment.  The fucking audacity of these people.  You turned the gun in your hands again, hitting him in the dead center of his face.

“Good luck with that.”

With that, you were gone, tearing out the doors and down the hallways.  The mansion that Roman’s family called home was a fucking maze.  Even without the drugs coursing through your system, you would’ve been lost in seconds.  The only thing you could do was find a place to hide.

You let out a small laugh at the thought.  Your night had, despite all improbabilities, actually turned into Ready or Not- a cursed game of hide and seek that would end with somebody dying.  You would never let Eddie forget this.

That is, if you saw him again.  To do that, you needed to survive long enough to call him, and get help.  You could do that- you had to believe that you could do that.

You could hear voices and footsteps far down the hallway.  Someone was coming.  With your goal in mind, you ran.  It was a struggle to avoid falling or tripping over the stupidly lavish hallway runner.  There were no significant landmarks to tell you where you were going.  There were no windows, no doors, and every damned wall was covered in those paintings.  The portraits with sad eyes watched as you tried to make your escape.  You weren’t afraid of them anymore.  

After coming upon two dead ends, you finally found some way to make progress.  A twisting stairway led up to another floor.  You didn’t have time to weigh your options.  The voices of your pursuers were only growing louder.  With the shotgun in hand, you threw yourself up the stairs and bolted onto the second floor.

Immediately, you were blessed by the last rays of light that the sun had to offer as it sunk below the horizon.  You didn’t have time to enjoy it.  You just ran down the hallway, past windows and portraits until you finally, finally found a series of doors.  

The first few you tried were locked.  Sweat pooled in the palms of your hands as you heard someone running up the stairs.  The ground seemed to shift beneath your feet when one of the doors finally swung open beneath your palm.  Counting yourself lucky, you tucked yourself inside and gently shut the door behind you.  Moments later, you heard footsteps thudding passed your hiding place.

You took in your surroundings.  You were in a bedroom.  Though it was beautiful, the space smelled of dust and neglect.  The fine silk sheets on the bed clearly hadn’t been used in some time.  A bronze crucifix hung over the bed, though it had been tilted to the side ever so slightly.  The rug was expensive, but its red hue had been darkened from dust.  The other furnishings had suffered a similar fate.  

You took a step forward, trying to explore the room further and get away from the door.  Your leg gave out beneath you.  Nausea overtook your body as you struggled to stand.  The world wouldn’t stop spinning.  Again, your vision doubled, though this time it faded to black at the edges.

You were about to pass out.

In a desperate attempt at self preservation, you checked the door behind you.  There was no way to lock it- no keyhole, no mechanism, nothing.  You glanced at your surroundings again- there was a bed, an oak chest that was far too small for you to fit inside of it, a nightstand, and a door.    You had no choice but to crawl to it, dragging yourself across the floor, burning your skin on the rug.  

You had fully assumed that this door would lead you to a closet, but to your luck, you found a small ensuite.  It was just as neglected as the bedroom- particles of dust floated through the air, coating the counter and catching in the fluffy towels that hung on the wall- but the door had the ability to lock.  That was all that really mattered to you.

You slid the shotgun in first, tucking it beside the toilet before you slid yourself in, knees and thighs clinging to the cold tile.  The moment you were in, you pulled the door shut behind you and locked it.  A moment passed.  The silence was broken only by your deep, haggard breathing.  Your hands clutched at nothing as you tried to calm the erratic beat of your heart.

Though you desperately needed a second to catch your breath, time was not on your side.  Your body shook almost violently on the cold bathroom floor.  Your vision continued to darken, and you knew that whatever drugs were in your system would slowly drag you under if you let them.  You didn’t know if you would wake up from that.

Pulling yourself over to the toilet, you made yourself vomit to the best of your ability.  You did everything you could do.  Still, the world swam in front of you.  As you faded from consciousness, you managed to pull your phone out from your pocket.  Roman’s smiling face mocked you from the screen as you unlocked the damn thing.  In the final moments before the world went dark, you managed to send out one text.  You hoped that Eddie left his phone on.

Y/N: sos.  sos.  please.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your phone clattered to the floor.  Night fell as you lay there, alone and asleep on the bathroom floor.  All the while, Roman’s family searched for you, becoming more agitated as they did.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the tile floor pulled you from your sleep.  The bathroom was dark and cold, and you shivered as you sat up.  Your skull ached.  Your throat stung.  Your limbs hung heavy at your sides.  In other words, you felt like total fucking garbage, and in that sweet moment before you remembered what hell you were living in, you swore you were going to shatter your phone for robbing you from your peaceful sleep.

And then you remembered that you were in deep, deep shit.

You immediately began to search for your phone, pawing mindlessly through the darkness with only the occasional vibration to guide you.  When your fingers wrapped around the sweet little device, you almost cried tears of joy.  You unlocked it quickly, wincing at the agonizingly bright light that spilled from your screen.

Your phone was flooded with missed calls and texts, not only from Eddie, but from Steve, Robin, and Nancy.  Your dear friend had raised the alarms- and you were so thankful that he did.

EDDIE: what’s up??  are you ok???

EDDIE: what’s going on???

EDDIE: (Y/N)???

EDDIE: do you need me to come get you??

EDDIE: is this a joke??  if this is a joke, it fucking sucks :(

EDDIE: you’re freaking me out, man

He called you.  Of course, you hadn’t been awake to answer.

EDDIE: come onnnnn, (Y/N), pick up the phone

EDDIE: ok, im making steve call you

EDDIE: if this is a joke, he’s gonna be so mad

EDDIE: he’s gonna go full dad on you, just wait

EDDIE: and if it isn’t

EDDIE: please tell me this is a joke

There was a missed call from Steve, then a missed call from Robin.  The latter had spammed your phone with texts and direct messages, sending you your name a thousand times on three different apps.  Steve had sent a few frantic texts of his own.  Both Steve and Robin were clearly worried by the end of it, but neither of them could top Eddie.  From his texts alone, you could tell he was terrified, and that was without all the missed calls (of which there were at least 20 and at most 200.  You didn’t bother to read the number correctly.)

A twinge of guilt ran through you as you kept reading.

EDDIE: ok, you aren’t answering steve or robin

EDDIE: i don’t like this

EDDIE: please tell me what’s wrong

EDDIE: please

EDDIE: if you don’t respond, i’m calling hopper

EDDIE: i swear to christ

EDDIE: (Y/N) my heart can’t take this, please pick up your phone

EDDIE: ok, that’s it, im calling hopper

That was the most recent message.  You responded.

Y/N: do it and hurry

EDDIE: HOLY FUCK YOU’RE ALIVE

EDDIE: thank god 

Y/N: i need you to come get me, now

Y/N: please

EDDIE: i'm on my way

EDDIE: are you okay?  can you tell me what’s going on?

There was no way you could tell him- not through text, anyway.  There was no way he would believe you based on words alone.  You tapped his name in your contacts list and hit the little phone icon.  He picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)?  Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

His voice was distorted by static, but you could still hear every ounce of his concern.  Your body warmed as tears pooled in your eyes.

“I- I don’t even know, Eds,” you cringed as your voice cracked, but Eddie didn’t miss a beat.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.  Just take deep breaths for me, angel.  You don’t have to say anything, Just stay where you are, I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.  Okay, just be careful.  They-” you paused, taking a shuddering breath as you remembered the feeling of drugs coursing through your veins, of an arm around your throat and hands grasping at your body.  You knew it had happened.  The shotgun lying beside you and the blood spattered across your body told you that.  Still, you barely believed that any of it was real.

“What did they do?  If they hurt you, I swear to god-”

“I think they drugged me,” you sounded so painfully small, broken in the middle of this strange bathroom, “They drugged me, and Roman’s uncle tried to choke me, and I- they said something about sacrifice?”

“What the fuck?” Eddie sounded just as terrified as you felt, “I’m calling Hop, he’ll meet us there.”

“Call an ambulance too, please.  I don’t know what they gave me, and I feel sick.”

“I will.  Just hang on, sweet girl, just hang on for me.”

“Okay,” you whispered as tears finally spilled down your cheeks.

The line fell silent for a moment as your mind raced over the events of the day.  With another shaky gasp, you spoke again.

“Roman is married.”

“Shit- what?”

“He’s married.  He has a wife.  They want to kill me.”

“Jesus H. Christ-”

He’s about to say more when you cut him off, “And Roman’s uncle shot himself in the face.  He- he was trying to kill me.”

“Holy fuck- and he shot himself in front of you?  God, angel, I’m- I’m so sorry.”

A small, breathy laugh escaped you, “Don’t worry.  It was kind of metal.”

It was such a weird joke, but you were coping in whatever way you could.  Eddie laughed cautiously over the phone, clearly concerned but allowing you to cope.  The line fell silent for a few moments.  You could hear him scrambling around, grabbing his keys and trying not to trip over himself.  Despite the situation, you were filled with overwhelming affection for the man on the other end of the line.

“I love you, you know,” you weren’t sure he heard you.  You didn’t try to speak up, “If I don’t make it out of here, I want you to know that.”

“You’re gonna make it out of there.  I promise, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.  I love you, too, sweet girl.”

You let out another small, terrible laugh.  Tears kept spilling down your cheeks.  You couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“Y’know what’s funny?  I was right.  I’m hiding from my boyfriend’s family members while they try to kill me- this is just like Ready or Not.”

“You’re right.  You were right, and this is just like that fucking movie, and you’re gonna get to rub this in my face for the rest of our lives, just stay put, baby.  I’ll be there soon, ok?”

Before you could answer, a floorboard creaked somewhere nearby.  You pulled the phone away from your ear.  Footsteps thudded down the hallway.  A chill ran up your spine.  You threw yourself away from the door as quietly as you could, seizing the shotgun with your free hand.

The bedroom door opened.

“Eddie,” you whispered, “Someone’s here.  I have to go.”

“Okay,” he sounded frantic, “Okay, okay.  You go, stay safe, I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.  I love you.”

“I love you,” the words were barely there.  You hoped to whatever force was out there that he heard you.  The light of your phone dimmed down to nothing, and you were left alone in the dark and the quiet.

You slipped your phone into your pocket with the utmost caution, trying not to make even the smallest of sounds.  Moving slowly, you wrapped your other hand around the shotgun, holding it in front of you like the world’s worst shield.  Someone was breathing on the other side of the door.  You could hear them moving around, getting closer and closer to your hiding space.

Suddenly, the bedroom fell silent.

The smell of cologne became overwhelming.

Adam knocked on the door.

“(Y/N)?” he drew out the sound of your name, his voice violating every syllable, “I know you’re in there, sweetheart.”

You remained silent, praying that he would decide that you weren’t actually in the bathroom and leave.  Those prayers went unanswered.  The doorknob twisted, but it didn’t give.  You had locked it.  Now Adam knew you were in there.

“Who were you talking to, Miss (L/N)?  Was it someone special?  No, it couldn’t be, you already have a boyfriend… well, had.”

Something was tapping against the door- something metal.

“But now you know the truth- or at least part of it.  Roman is happily tied to the lovely Cathrine, and you’re nothing but a lamb for slaughter.”

Your knuckles were white around the shotgun.  Adam went silent for a terrifying moment.

“You’re real a cute lamb, though.  It’s a damn shame, if you ask me.  A real waste of a body like yours.”

You tried not to gag.

“Y’know,” something dragged across the door, fabric, then metal again, “We could always figure something out.  If you came with me, Roman and Cath would just have to find another sacrifice- and we could get a sacrifice of our own.”

You tried to take deep breaths.

“You look like the kinda girl that would like that- summoning a few demons, having a few kids.  You’d make a cute little housewife.  That’s what girls like you are made for.  And I’d treat you better than my shit head brother ever did.”

You remained silent, biting your lip until it bled.  The taste of iron spilled into your mouth, but even that wasn’t as vile as the man on the other side of the door.

“On second thought, I might not keep you, Miss (L/N).  You’ve been too quiet.  I like girls who can scream.”

You could hear the sound of a gun, cocking, loading, fucking whatever, you didn’t know how guns worked.  You just knew that you had to do something, and you had to do it now.

Just before the sound of a shot could fracture the uneasy silence, you unlocked the door and threw it open, smacking Adam in the face.  He collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap, the gun in his hand skittering across the floor.  Without a second thought, you ran for it and kicked the thing into the hallway.  When you turned back to Adam, he was still sprawled across the rug, clutching at his face.  Blood gushed from his nose, dripping into his mouth and spilling across his lips and chin.  You hoped the taste of it was fucking vile.

“YOU FILTHY BITCH!” Adam screamed, “You broke my fucking nose!”

“You deserved it,” you held the shotgun like a bat.  You didn’t know how to shoot, but you did know how to hit something with a blunt object.

Before Adam could struggle to his feet, you hit him again, right in his bloodied nose.  He shrieked in pain, scrambling back as you went to hit him again.  He took his face out of range- an intelligent move, in theory.  Unfortunately for Adam, this put his knees right in your line of fire.

You weren’t sure what damage you did, but by the time you’d finished, Adam was curled into himself, and you no longer felt human.  You staggered away, covered in the blood of not one, but two of Roman’s family members.  Your hand found purchase on the window sill.  You leaned against it, desperately trying to catch your breath.

Outside, someone screamed.

You looked down, only to see some of the LeBuers gathered in the driveway.  Medea was half-way inside of a car, looking up at you with horror and rage painted across her features.  Immediately, half of the people with her raced back into the house.  Cecilia remained outside, ushering her daughter and son-in-law into the vehicle before she, too, went back inside.

They all knew where you were now. 

You were deeply, deeply fucked.

You could hear Adam laughing at you as you raced into the hallway, scooping the discarded gun into one hand and keeping the shotgun in the other.  You sped down the corridor, stopping every now and then to throw open whatever doors you could find.  You hoped that Roman’s family would think that you’d disappeared into another hiding place- anything to give yourself more time.

You ducked into one of the open doors just as Roman’s family spilled into the hall.  They weren’t quiet in their searching- you could hear Benedict barking orders, and Cecilia’s distressed cry upon finding her beaten and bloodied son.  As the hunting party panicked, you slipped into the darkness, moving backwards into an endless and ill-lit corridor that you hadn’t even noticed.

When the voices of your pursuers faded, you finally let yourself turn around.  The hallway seemed to stretch on forever into infinite darkness.  You could just barely see the frames of portraits that still lined the walls.  The floor runner beneath you muffled the sounds of your footsteps, and you followed it diligently, staying silent until you found yet another fucking door.

You held both guns in one hand as you pulled it open.  The next room contained another goddamned staircase, this one descending to the floor below.  Before you could truly question the design choices of the rich and powerful, someone shoved you forward.  You collapsed to the ground, losing your grip on both guns.  Exhaustion filled your bones as you watched both weapons tumble down the stairs.

A well polished shoe slammed into your ribs before you could move.  You didn’t have the chance to respond before your assailant kicked you again, bruising your ribs if they hadn’t already.  You let out a sharp cry as you tried to sit up.  Your attacker spat at you as you struggled, and when you looked up, you saw Alex’s disgusted face.

“Get up.”

You didn’t move.  You just laid there with a shocked expression on your face.  Alex leaned in, grabbing the front of your dress and dragging you to your knees.

“I said get up, you stupid whore.”

This time, you did as he asked, moving slowly as your shocked body tried to catch up with your equally shocked mind.

Alex didn’t appear to be armed.  If anything, he looked like he hadn’t expected to find you.  It was pure coincidence that he’d happened to wander down the same hallway you had.  Alex was doing his best to look angry- furrowing his brow and glaring down at you- but the disgust on his face betrayed him.  Locating you was nothing more than an inconvenience. 

You hoped you could use that to your advantage.

“Alex, listen,” your voice was more sure than you expected it to be, “You can let me go.  You can let me run off.  You won’t have to get your hands dirty.  You can just- you can pretend you never saw me.”

“Mm, yeah, I could,” Alex drew out every syllable he could, whining as a way of mocking you, “But this whole thing will end faster if I drag you back by that skanky little dress of yours.  So-”

He pulled you to your feet, hands still tangled in the fabric of your dress.  Adrenaline surged through you as he pulled you to the door.  You fought him, scratching at his arm, drawing red angry lines into his pale flesh.  He shrugged you off for the most part until you leaned in, seizing his neck with one hand and pulling it towards your mouth until you had the opportunity to bite.

Alex screamed as your teeth broke his skin.  Blood filled your mouth, hot and metallic.  You wanted to pull away, to stop biting and spit out the vile liquid, but you didn’t stop.  You couldn’t.  Not yet. 

With your teeth still embedded in the flesh of Alex’s throat, you used your hold on his neck to drag him backwards, towards the stairs.  He didn’t struggle or fight- he only screamed louder.

When he finally let you go, Alex lost his balance.  You watched as he stumbled, staggering away from you as he tried to stop the bleeding.  With his blood dripping from your mouth, you walked up to Alex and shoved him down the stairs.

You watched him fall, tumbling and bending in ways that human beings were not meant to tumble and bend.  His screams stopped about halfway down the staircase.  You shut your eyes.  You just listened to the sounds of bones breaking in silence until that, too, came to a stop.

Then, the only sound was your breathing.

You felt around in the darkness for the banister of the stairs, and you clung to it as you collapsed to the floor.  You sat there in the quiet, staring into nothing.  For a moment, you were lost to the world as a numbing sort of panic filled your lungs.

“Holy shit.”

You knew that voice.  With a gasp, you looked up.  Of course, given your luck, the first thing you saw was Alex’s mangled body.  His knee was twisted the wrong way, as was his left arm, and you winced at the sight of it, but your attention was quickly pulled away to the thing right next to Alex.

A pair of beat up white sneakers.  Black jeans, a Metallica t-shirt, a leather jacket and violently wild hair.

“Eddie?”

The familiar boy at the bottom of the stairs didn’t say anything for a second.  He just examined the body below him.  At this angle, you couldn’t see his face.  For a moment, you were terrified.  You might’ve taken a man’s life- and that in itself was horrifying- but to add more fire to the hell you were in, you’d taken that man’s life in front of your best friend.  What would he think of you now?

“Eddie?” you asked again, your voice trembling unpleasantly.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” he finally looked up at you.  His expression wasn’t disgusted or afraid- in fact, if you didn’t know better you would almost say he was impressed, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Tears filled your eyes as relief washed over you.  You were safe now.  Eddie was here, and he would take you away from this place, and these people, and you wouldn’t be brutally murdered because Eddie would never let that happen to you.  And on top of that, he didn’t seem to mind that you had just maimed a man.

A smile crossed your face as you called down to him, “Will do.”

He returned the grin, but it immediately slipped from his face.  His eyes were no longer focused on you.  In the silence that followed, you could hear Roman’s family coming down the hall.

“Run, run!”

Eddie really didn’t have to tell you twice.  You sped down the staircase just as Roman’s aunt stepped into the room, a silver hunting knife clutched in her hand.  Adam limped in behind her, bruised and bloodied but still well enough to hunt you down.  Clearly, you hadn’t kicked his ass enough.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you leapt over Alex’s body and into Eddie’s arms.  He caught you and pushed you behind him, getting you as far from the new threat as he could.  As you moved towards the exit, your foot hit something metal.  You knelt quickly, seizing the guns at your feet and handing one of them to Eddie.

The moment you did, Roman’s aunt noticed her child’s crumpled form on the floor.  For the second time that night, you heard a mother scream at what you’d done to her son.  You couldn’t find it in you to feel any sort of guilt.

“YOU WRETCHED JUDAS!” she screamed as she stormed down the stairs, “You’ll pay!  You’ll fucking pay!!”

She ran at you, knife raised, but before she got the chance to enact her vengeance, a deafening shot rang out.  The shotgun was still in your hands, unused and useless.  Blood soaked the woman’s shirt as she collapsed to the floor.  You and Eddie watched in silence, the gun still smoking in his hands as she pulled down the steps into a bloody heap at the bottom.

“No- no!”  Adam’s face was painted with his rage.  His eyebrows were furrowed, cheeks red, and the look in his eyes could only be described as murderous, “You fucking wretch!  I’ll make sure the last thing you hear is her screaming as I tear her apart!  Do you understand that you stupid bitch?  I’ll break you open and I’ll make him watch!”

You resisted the urge to vomit as you and Eddie ran out of the room, his hand slipping into yours as you fled.  The beating you’d given Adam bought you more time, but you didn’t let yourself indulge in the illusion of safety.  Even as Adam’s threats faded into silence, the need for escape haunted you.  Your fear followed you like the eyes of the paintings on the walls.

“Do you remember the way you came in?” you asked, panting and out of breath from your run.

“I did, but I think we lost it two hallways ago- who the fuck lives like this, man?”

“Rich people.”

Eddie barked out a laugh.  With his hand still in yours, he pulled you to an abrupt stop.  Before you could ask what was wrong, you were in his arms again.

“Please never date a crazy rich dude with a homicidal family again.  I don’t think my heart can take it.”

You laughed into his chest, wrapping yourself around him and grabbing fistfulls of his shirt in your hands.

“I don’t think mine can either.  I’m barely functioning as it is, I can’t even begin to think of doing this again,” you moved your hands up to gently cup his jaw, making his eyes meet yours, “Let’s make a deal- we are never doing this again.  Ever.  For any reason.”

“Agreed,” his smile was damn near blinding, betraying his mock-exasperated tone, “Because all of this is just fucking crazy.”

“I know!  It’s crazy and it’s cliche, and if I ever fall for another psychopathic rich man, I want you to kill me.”

He laughed, but there was a look in his eye.  You couldn’t really tell if it was guilt or some other kind of remorse.  Your smile fell from your lips as you remembered, unsure of how you had ever forgotten- Eddie had just killed a woman.  He had done it for your sake, to save your life, but you didn’t know how that action would weigh upon his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “For coming to get me.  And I’m so sorry for- for everything else.”

Eddie shrugged, as if shooting someone hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, “Anything for my best girl.  Now come on, we need to find a way out of this fuckin place.  Hopper’s on his way, he’ll be here soon- not soon enough, but soon.”

You nodded, but you stood still as he began to pull away.  Before he could get far, you launched yourself at him again, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I mean it,” your voice was muffled by his body, firm and solid beneath your lips, “Thank you.  And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get us into this mess, I should’ve followed my gut, and-”

“Hey, hey,” two of his fingers slipped under your chin, tilting your head up, “Look at me, angel.  Look at me.”

His eyes were soft, gentle, and indescribably comforting.  You raised your hand, slipping it into his much larger one.  You couldn’t help but watch as his muscles flexed, his fingers wrapping around your own.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft and quiet.  For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by his lips, “You don’t need to apologize.  For any of this.  Look, I’m a coward.  I know I am.  But if you’re in trouble, I need you to know that I will always come to get you.  It doesn’t matter if it’s this homicidal family, another homicidal family, or some other shit.”

He paused.  His hand was so cold in yours.  You never wanted to let go of him.

“When it’s you, I can put the fear aside.  When it’s you, I can be brave.”

The air stilled for a moment as you let his words wash over you.  They warmed your skin like soft flame, and without another thought, you brought his still freezing hand to your lips.  You pressed a gentle kiss across the back of his fingers, silently returning the affection he's given you.  When you met his eyes again, his cheeks burned an impossible red, but he could not hide the smile that spilled across his face like wine across a fine linen.

“Now,” he cleared his throat, “We’re gonna get out of here, and Hopper’s gonna fix this shit, and I’m gonna take you home, and we’re gonna stop for soft tacos on the way, and we are never watching Ready or Not again.  Sound good?”

“That sounds amazing,” you returned his grin, but before you could say anything else, you heard voices echoing through one of the endless hallways.  It was time for more running, “Let’s go.”

“Good plan!”  Eddie kept your hand in his as he bolted, “You’re so smart, did you know that?  I always love your plans. “I think I love your plans more!” you panted, knowing that you, at the very least, were not talking about plans.  

You weren’t sure how Eddie felt about you, but as the two of you threw open doors in the hopes of an exit manifesting itself, you became sure of your own feelings.  Truly and completely, you were in love with Eddie Munson.

Maybe you should’ve been worried about that.  Maybe you should’ve felt some heavy sense of dread that he wouldn’t return the feeling.  Maybe, under normal circumstances, you would’ve felt that way.  However, given the fact that this self-professed coward had broken into this place for you, shot a woman for you, and saved your life, you were pretty confident that he felt something for you.

“This way!  They went this way!”

But you would never know for sure if Roman’s family managed to find you before you could ask.

You threw open every door you found as you ran, again looking for an escape while creating a million distractions.  Eddie followed your lead, catching on quickly as if he was built for this exact insane situation.

Behind each door was the same kind of shit- bedrooms, closets, storage spaces holding extravagant nothings (you were pretty sure you saw the shape of a grand piano.)  You could feel your hunters closing in.  The hallways and corridors of the mansion seemed to close in around you and Eddie.  Then, there came the final door.

It was painted red, though the colour had faded and chipped away through the years.  Without a second thought, you seized the brass door knob and turned it.  The door opened to reveal an empty black space.  You couldn’t see the end of the room.  

A frigid draft blew in through the new space raising goosebumps on your skin.  The smell of rotting flesh overtook you.  You shivered, trying not to retch as you looked around, desperate for another escape.  Other than the red door, you had found yourself at a dead end.

“(Y/N), come on, let’s hide and find another way out.”

“There’s no time,” there really wasn’t.  You could hear Adam’s enraged screaming getting louder and louder with every passing second.  You wouldn’t let yourself be caught.  

You grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him into the dark.  As you ran further into the room, the light from the hallway shrunk down until it was nothing but a pinprick.  The smell of mold and decay got stronger as you ventured further inside.  Flies buzzed around just out of swatting distance.  Your body trembled, struggling to get warm as the room got colder and colder.  Eddie’s hand was an anchor in a sea of nothingness.  You held him tighter, desperate to know that he was there.

Towards the back of the room, another light came into view, blood red like a warning.  You raced towards it, Eddie’s hand in yours.  The dim crimson light illuminated a set of poorly painted metal stairs.  You didn’t even stop to wonder what the hell they were doing in a mansion like this.  You didn’t stop to wonder where they led.  The breeze on your face- though it smelled putrid as anything- felt like freedom.  You moved down the stairs faster than was safe.  Eddie followed behind you hesitantly, though he didn’t slow you down.

You seemed to descend for an eternity, moving down until the light faded and you were in the dark again.  When you finally met solid ground again, you surged forward, running in an animalistic panic through what you had to assume was a basement.  You kept telling yourself that you would be safe, that you were almost out the door.

Then, the floor fell out from beneath you.  The shotgun slipped from your hands, landing somewhere deep below with a dull thud.  A scream tore itself from your lips, echoing back up the stairwell and giving away your location instantly.

Eddie pulled you back to solid ground and turned you, keeping your face tucked into this chest.  His arms wrapped around you, keeping you secure in his embrace.  He was muttering something, but you couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood in your ears.  Your fingers gripped his shirt so tightly that it made your knuckles sore.  Your ribs ached as your breath came to you in harsh pants.  

You turned to look at where you had fallen.

All too late, Eddie’s voice finally became clear, “Don’t look at it, (Y/N).  Don’t look, you don’t need to look.”

You had nearly fallen into a pit.  It was deep.  Wide.  And the bottom was absolutely lined with corpses.

You could see bones sticking up through tattered old finery.  Flesh still clung to fingers, decorated with once gleaming rings.  Eyeless sockets stared up at you through matted, fetid, rotting clumps of hair and scalp.  

You were looking down at centuries of sacrifices, first and second and third wives of the LeBuer family, victims of a ritual that you could not hope to understand.

If it weren’t for Eddie’s hold on you, you would have collapsed.  

“I see you’ve found your future tomb.”

You whirled around.  As your eyes adjusted to the low light, you could see Adam standing on the stairs.  Alex limped down behind him, his mouth drawn up in a pained grimace.  Eddie pushed you behind him, trying to protect you from this new, hellish encounter.

“You won’t touch her,” he growled, “Not while I’m here.”

“Oh, shut up, guttersnipe.  This isn’t about you.  This could never be about you.  All we want is the girl,” Alex hissed, though you couldn’t tell which was stronger in his voice- hatred or agony.

“Look, trailer trash, we’ll even make you a deal for her,” as Adam spoke, you wrapped your hands around Eddie’s wrists, trying to provide some form of comfort.  You weren’t sure if it worked, or if it just made you look like a damsel in distress, but at least you tried.

“We’ll set you up for a few years, and in exchange,” Adam continued, “You give us the girl.  And you keep quiet about this, of course.  The LeBuer name has a reputation.  If any of this were to get out-”

“Any of what?  The demon sacrifice?  The murder of innocents for your own selfish needs?”

“And how would you know about any of that you fucking heathen?”

Eddie shrugged, “Just trust me on this one, man.  I know.”

“Look at him, Adam,” Alex wheezed, “He would know demons.  He fucking looks like one.”

Adam scoffed, shaking his head at Alex’s attempt at a joke… or was it an insult?  You were too tired and terrified to give a shit.

“Okay boys, fun’s over, I’m afraid I’m not up for exchange this fine evening.  Now if you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time to leave.  Thank your parents for hosting, Adam, it’s been wonderful-”

The deafening sound of a gunshot cut you off.  

You screamed, reaching up at your ears to protect them from the noise.  Eddie had the same idea, and Alex and Adam ducked right to the ground, lying on their bellies as you all looked up to see who had shot.

Roman stood on the stairs, his back just bathed in the faintest crimson light.  In his hands he held another fucking gun.  Honestly, by that point you were so fucking tired you almost hoped he’d just shoot you with it.

Clearly, God, Roman, and also Eddie, had other plans.

Eddie tucked you behind him, making it absolutely fucking clear to everyone in the room that if they wanted to hurt you, they would have to go through him first- and oh, how your heart sunk as you realized you were something Eddie wanted to protect.  In that moment, you knew you were precious to him.  Maybe you were something he’d searched all of time and space for and finally found.  You wanted to fucking scream again, but your throat was really starting to hurt.

Roman just sighed.  As he made his way down the stairs, his pace was leisurely and completely self assured.  He didn’t even aim the gun at you or Eddie- he barely even spared you a glance.

“My good gentleman, I assure you, this isn’t how we wanted this night to go.”

“Don’t even start with that bullshit, man.  Don’t fucking gentleman me.  Maybe you didn’t want to spend the night in your corpse dungeon, but I’m perfectly happy to be here,” Eddie’s voice had a harsh edge to it, one that made you want to cling onto him and never let go.  If you were too tired to fight this battle- which at this point in the night, you had every right to be- you knew he would handle this thing for you.  For the both of you.

“Are you?  You’re happy to defend an empty vessel?  Happy to stand on the edge of a pit filled with the lowest form of decay?  Well, I guess it’s an upgrade from whatever hovel you crawled out of.”

Nevermind.  Fuck lying dormant while Eddie protected you.  You were going to protect him, too.

“Oh, would you fuck off, Roman,” you barked, woken up from your angst-filled exhaustion, “How long have you been bottling up the classist insults?  Just through our relationship?  Or did you hide even before that?  Come on, then.  If you’re hurling insults at people who don’t spend stupid amounts on whatever pathetic bullshit you call “luxury,” you should probably spare one for me.  We were partners, after all.”

Eddie’s eyes were filled with pride and fear in equal measure- he looked like he wanted to kiss you and shove you back behind him for your own safety.  Roman, on the other hand, had the audacity to look hurt.

“Were?”

It was your turn to scoff, “You were planning to sacrifice me to the devil for your own sake- and for the sake of your secret wife.  You expect me to serve you, to die so you can have a kid.  You used me, Roman, and I’m sick of your shit.  We’re fucking done.”

He stood still on for a moment, his eyes darting between you and Eddie from his place on the stairs.

“I was right,” he finally mumbled, “It’s you and him.”

In the silence that followed, Eddie’s hand found its way back into yours.  Your thumb traced over his knuckles, over every ridge and vein his hand had to offer.  He squeezed his fingers around yours in return, pulling you close to him with no intention of letting go. 

“Very well, then,” Roman pointed the gun at Eddie’s chest, “You’ll both die screaming.”

You knocked Eddie to the ground as Roman fired a shot.  The overwhelming sound of gunfire echoed off the walls, making everyone in the room wince and cover their ears.  It gave you an opening.

With Eddie’s hand in yours, you bolted towards the stairs.  Alex recovered from the sound first.  He jumped towards you.  Eddie let go of you for a moment, just so he could fight off your assailant.  As his punches landed, Alex staggered back.  He made weak attempts to return Eddie’s blows, but he was no match for the metalhead.  For the second time that night, Alex went down like a bitch.  He rolled across the floor, coughing and swearing until he fell off the edge of the floor.

The third time Alex went down that night, he went all the way down to the corpse pit.

You froze, listening to Alex’s scream as he plunged out of sight.  A dull thud echoed through the room as he landed.  Bones crunched beneath him, rotten flesh squelching as Alex slipped through old blood and viscera.  You could barely hear him screaming over the buzz of disrupted flies. The smell of rancid meat rose into the air.  Bile rose in your throat as the screaming turned to desperate retching.  Eddie stood still, gazing into the pit with an expression you couldn’t name.

Before you could reach out to him, an arm wrapped around your throat.  You let out a yelp as someone pulled you into the firm plane of their chest.  Your heart fell through your chest as you clawed and scratched at your attacker.  You couldn’t afford to show them mercy.  You bit and tore at them, drawing blood and shrieking like a feral animal as their other arm curled around your waist.  Through your adrenaline fueled haze, you were absolutely sure that it was Roman’s voice calling you a bitch.

Eddie raced to help you, moving faster than you thought a person could go.  Adam interfered, advancing on Eddie viciously.  Unlike Alex, Adam was adept at fighting and capable of heinous violence.  The two men exchanged blows with equal force and brutality, landing hits until Eddie’s nose was bloodied and the side of Adam’s face was painted purple.

In the interim, you didn’t stop fighting.  As Eddie and Alex beat the shit out of each other, Roman tried to pull you towards the stairs.  In retaliation, you took a sizable chunk out of his arm with your teeth.  You gagged as you spat out his flesh- the sensation of hot, metallic blood spilling past your lips was almost too much to bear.  Roman growled, and you could feel his hand tangle itself in the roots of your hair, pulling you away from his new wound.

“I’ll credit you with this, my darling,” Roman grunted, pulling you backwards as you spat out his blood, “You’ve put up a good fight.  But you have to know, this can only end one way.”

Beside the body pit, Adam had finally managed to pin Eddie to the ground.  You watched as the bastard gripped Eddie’s jaw and turned his head to face you.  Eddie looked absolutely devastated.  Panic swirled in his warm brown eyes as he kept trying to free himself.  No matter how hard he tried, he was still forced to look at you as Roman wrapped a hand around your throat and started to squeeze.

As your vision began to swim, Adam leaned down, pressing his lips to Eddie’s ear.  You clawed at Roman’s arm like an animal.  Your nails tore at his already open wound, but he held you fast, placing another hand just below your navel to keep you still.

“I get what you see in her, pretty boy,” you could hear Adam’s words, muffled slightly by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, “She’s hot when she struggles.”

Beneath his assailant, Eddie growled, digging his nails into any flesh he could reach.  Adam barely winced.

“It’s a shame you won’t leave this room- I mean, the things we’re gonna do to her once we get upstairs.  It would be a wet dream for a freak like you.”  

Tears spilled from your eyes as the threat set in.  Fear burrowed itself inside of you, eating away at your flesh as flies fed on the bodies below.  Across the room, Eddie grit his teeth, his eyes flashing with rage.  You didn’t see him land his next hit.  You didn’t see him claw at Adam’s face.  You didn’t see anything- it was all too fast.  All you knew was that one moment, Adam was smirking down at Eddie, and the next his face was covered in blood.   Adam shrieked, his hands hovering over his face as crimson gushed from four deep, perfect wounds embedded in his flesh.  

In his panic, Adam made a terrible mistake.  He let Eddie go.  Without a second of hesitation, Eddie tackled his assailant.  He wrapped his pale, slender hand around Adam’s throat and squeezed.  You watched Eddie’s knuckles turn white, his veins standing out against his skin.  Beneath him, Adam gasped for air, thrashing desperately in an attempt to escape.  You could hear him choking on his own blood as it poured down his face.   

You heard something snap.  A smile snuck its way onto your face.

Adam was still gasping, though the sound was almost nothing now.  Static filled your ears.  Roman screamed, a sound of deep rage, right in your ears.  Eddie looked up at you, his eyes wide.  A thick strand of scarlet something dripped from between Eddie’s lips.

And then he was gone.

You watched as Eddie fell back into the pit, dragging Adam with him.  Someone was screaming- you.  You were screaming.  You couldn’t feel the strain in your throat.  You could barely hear the sound.  You hadn’t heard the gun go off, even though Roman had shot it inches away from your skull.  You couldn’t feel Roman pulling you back.  You couldn’t feel the stairs hitting the backs of your legs as he dragged you back up into the house.

All you could see was the dark void that Eddie had fallen into.  All you knew was that dark void.  There was nothing else.  Tears ran down your cheeks.  Eddie was gone.  Broken sobs left your body as you collapsed into Roman’s arms- into the arms of the man that had destroyed your world in seconds.  You were nothing but a wounded animal, now.  Hunted, maimed, and brought forth for slaughter.  You took some bitter joy in that thought.  You knew you would see Eddie soon enough.

The hallways of the LeBuer mansion blurred into nothing.  The portraits on the walls had the decency to look bereaved, but every little Jesus on every little cross you passed seemed to laugh at you.  All the fight had been drained from you like blood from a cadaver.  You said nothing as Roman pulled you back into the dining room.  You didn’t flinch at his family’s carnivorous smiles.  You didn’t make a sound when Roman let you drop to the floor.

Bruises began to form on your arms and shoulders but you didn’t feel the pain.  Someone took your phone, not that it mattered.  You let the family place you on their table.  You let Roman tie you down.  You let Cathrine tear open your dress.  Even the chill of the room on your exposed flesh didn’t bother you.  You just laid there, still as death, while Benedict approached with a large, intricate blade.  He handed it off to his son.

“Roman, dearest, did you drug her?” Cecilia asked, “She hasn’t moved an inch.  Usually they squirm so much…”

“Don’t worry, mother.  As far as it concerns us, she’s already dead.”

“That’ll make the next few steps a lot easier.  Perhaps she’ll bleed less,” Cathrine put a hand to your cheek, gently brushing the smooth pads of her fingers over your flesh.  Her face was the only thing you could see, the only thing you had to focus on as the knife finally dug deep into your skin.

You refused to scream.  You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  Your tears, however, spilled from your eyes without your consent.  Cathrine’s smile grew wider as her family tortured you, as you were penetrated again and again with the blade.  You couldn’t see what they were doing.  You didn’t know when they would finally end your suffering.  Your world was made up of her cruel eyes and nothing else.

Your blood burned as it dripped over your sides, pooling beneath you until you could feel it between the table and the flesh of your back.  You could hear drops of it falling to the marble floor.  The sound was enough to drive you crazy- that is, if the pain didn’t do it first.

The blade ripped through your skin, diving deep into you with such brutality that your body shook from the force.  You could feel yourself choking on blood.  The world was turning gray, tunneling into a mess of static.  The grunts of effort from Roman’s family were muted by the panicked sound of your own breathing.  You were going to die here.  You were going to die here, and Cathrine would be the last thing you would see.  You didn’t try to fight it.

In a weird way, it was almost like sex- the blade thrusting in and out of your body, making you bleed, making you hurt.  It was a violent intrusion.  A man imposing his will on you to serve his own desires.  

You didn’t have it in you to fight, but you did want to throw up really badly.  

When she finally pulled back, you had just enough strength to look up and see what they’d done to you.  You’d been stabbed.  Just stabbed, a thousand times without a hint of grace or tact.  You could see yourself bleeding out, blood pulsing to the surface with every weak beat of your heart.  The sight made you sick.  There was something viscerally wrong about your mutilated body lying before you.

You let out a soft cry as Roman put his hand low on your abdomen.  It was a pitiful sound, the only thing you could make as your heart struggled to keep you alive.  

“Thank you.  For your sacrifice,”  he pressed down, a final act of cruelty.

Cathrine wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “It’s what any woman would do.”

“My family,” Benedict  began.  Though his voice sounded miles away, you could still hear the jovial tone in his words, “Let us begin the prayer.”

You watched as Roman took Cathrine’s hand in his- specifically, his hand that wasn’t stained in your blood.  She grabbed the golden crucifix around her throat and held it with a look of pride and hope.

“Our father,” you couldn’t tell who was speaking anymore.  You just knew that they sounded happy.

“Forgive us this trespass and send us a servant of the one below.”

The lights flickered.  You almost wanted to laugh.  This was some cheesy fuckin shit.  The air took on a sudden chill, not that you could feel it.  Your blood provided you with a scorching heat as it spilled from your veins.

“A servant of your fallen son, to bless this fallen daughter.”

The lights flickered again.  You could hear something loud above the voices.  Something crashing, loud like thunder but not as natural.

“To bestow upon our family the ultimate gift- a child-” their voices cut out, “And your name.”

You were pretty sure one of the ten commandments was not to murder anyone- but you knew you weren’t a person to them.  Thou shalt not kill didn’t apply to slaughtered lambs.  Why would it apply to you?

“Accept this most humble offering, this lamb to slaughter, this child of Abraham.”

You heard a door open.  

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  Or whatever.  Amen.”

That voice- that voice was new.  Roman’s family stopped their prayer.  You could hear someone gasp.  They sounded terrified.  You wondered, briefly, what they would have to fear.

“You- you can’t be here.  You’re dead.”

“Huh.  Thanks for filling me in, I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.”

“I shot you-”

“I’m aware.”

“Roman, who is this boy?”  Was that Cecilia or Cathrine?  For the life of you- something that was quickly coming to an end- you could not fucking tell.

“You asked for a demon,” you heard a pause.  Footsteps.  Something fell to the floor with a crash, “You got one.”

“No- you’re not, you can’t be-”

“Roman, darling-” was it concerning that you still couldn’t tell if that was your ex’s wife or his mom?  It didn’t matter.  The next thing you heard was Roman, enraged.  You were sure of that.  You heard it enough times.

“ENOUGH- I’m going to end this!  I’m going to end-”

A shot rang out.  There was another pause.  Something small and metal clattered to the floor.  Silence followed.

The lights went out.

Bathed in darkness, the voice of the new guest suddenly became clear, and when he spoke a fresh round of tears fell from your eyes.  You were dead now.  You were sure of it.  The afterlife was fucking weird, but you were certain.  

“Hey there, angel.  You’re gonna be okay.  I’ve got you.  Just tell me what to do.”

You drew in a shaky breath, your chest rattling, aching with the effort.  The cold air hurt your lungs.  You felt like you were burning from the inside out.

“Help me, Eddie.”

In an instant, his presence was gone.  The room was still dark.  When Eddie spoke again, his voice came from the doorway again.

“You’re going to get away from her now,” his voice was low, his words a warning, “This is your only warning.”

Footsteps echoed through the room.  Someone was running.  There was a grunt, a sound like someone exerting effort, throwing a punch.

There followed an awful, fleshy, tearing sound.  Roman’s screams of agony met your ears, just as the snap of breaking bones jolted you back to some level of reality.  There was another shout, a scream of paternal rage.  More footsteps- and again, the sound of flesh being torn from bone.  You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel bad about that.  In fact, you almost laughed.

The next cry that rang out was definitely Cecilia’s.  The noise she made was cut short, overtaken by cracking sounds of a shattering rib cage.  Someone choked on their own blood, gagging and sputtering their way to a brutal death.  You couldn’t really feel bad about that, either.

Roman was still screaming.  You could hear Cathrine’s voice, demanding Roman’s freedom.  It didn’t help much.  The next thing you heard was Roman’s pained gasps for air.

Eddie’s voice rang out again, a source of comfort amid all the auditory gore.

“Let me get this straight.  You two shit stains wanted a child so badly that you were willing to torture an innocent woman to get one?  You were willing to brutalize her for your own sake?”

“It’s tradition!  Roman’s family is cursed- they must have a sacrifice in the name of God!  A holy baptism of blood!  A new mass!  The killing of one womb so that they may conceive in another-”

“God doesn’t give a shit about your family’s tradition of torture porn,” Eddie’s voice was strange, caught between a growl, a laugh, and a sob, “I’m half convinced he doesn't give a shit about anything.  He doesn’t see you, Cathrine.  He doesn’t care about you.  He doesn’t bless you, he doesn’t bless this fucked up family, and he doesn’t bless your husband.”

You heard a weak wheeze before Roman spoke, “She- she gave her consent.  I had her, she whored herself out to me.  That means-”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN SHIT,” Eddie had been enraged the entire time he’d been speaking, but this was something new.  From your place on the dining table/alter, you could see a red light flickering off the ceiling.

“Consent to sex is not consent to ritual sacrifice, you stupid fuck.”

You were pretty sure the black mass that flew across your vision was Roman.  You weren’t sure how Eddie managed that one, but you sure as shit weren’t complaining.  A deafening crash came from one of the cabinets.  Glass shattered on impact.  You laughed- the sound was wet and broken, and the laugh itself was painful, but the sound still escaped.  You hoped that whatever had happened to Roman had fucking hurt.

“Roman!” Cathrine’s scream all but confirmed your theory.  You heard her footsteps as she tried to get to her husband, but something stopped her.

“And you.  Well, you’re just a fucking disappointment.  Tell me, kid, what makes you think you’re any different?  What makes you think you’ll be spared from him?  From his wrath?  From his family?  There’s a pit in the basement full of bodies, full of people this family has sacrificed for their own gain.  What makes you think you won’t join them?”

“He- he loves me.  Roman loves me.”

“He told (Y/N) the same thing.  Look what he did to her.  Look what you did to her.”

“She- she would have done the same thing!  She would have killed me!”

“No.  Not like this.  I, on the other hand-” 

Eddie didn’t finish that sentence.  You just heard the squelch of skin splitting, the sound of something wet falling to the floor, and a half scream from the woman who watched as the light in your eyes faded to nothing.  Like that, she was gone.  You couldn’t help the smile that slipped across your face.  You shut your eyes.

“(Y/N)- (Y/N), come on, keep your eyes open.”

You did.  Eddie was above you, haloed in red light- and something was different.  His eyes were dark, pupils blown.  It almost looked like the dark overtook the whites of his eyes.  His skin was pale, ashen, far more so than it normally was.  You reached towards him and when he moved to take your hands you noticed them.  Massive leathery wings stretched out behind your boy.  You had to be dead already.  Or at least close to it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hand squeezing yours, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  I never meant for any of this to happen.  I never wanted you to get hurt, I never wanted you to see me like this-”

“You…” your voice was weak.  Your blood stained your lips and teeth, “You’re pretty.”

He let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.  It broke your heart, a little bit.  You wanted to pull him close to you and never let him go, but it hurt to move.  You just wanted to close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

“No, no, no, come on.  Stay with me, angel, stay awake.”

You could only hum in response.

“I- I’m going to have to touch you.  Is that okay?”

You wanted to tell him that he could touch you however he wanted to.  He could do whatever he wanted, he could finish what the LeBuers had started and cut you to bits and you would let him.  Whatever was left of you was his.  You loved him, and you wanted him to know that.  All you could do was lie there and nod.

Apologies spilled from his lips as he let go of your hand and placed his own over your wounds.   His touch was feather light.  It should have hurt.  By all logic, it should have hurt, but you didn’t feel any pain.  You could feel something sharp against your flesh, but whatever it was, it didn’t cut into you.  It just scratched sweetly across your skin as his fingers traced over your stomach and your ribs.  

Eddie brushed over you slowly, gently, in a way that filled you with want.  You could feel his hands start to tremble as they moved lower and lower.  Warmth seeped into your body wherever he touched you.  Slowly, the agony you felt- the sharp sting of your torn flesh, the bruised ribs, all of it- it just faded away. 

You opened your eyes and slipped your hand into Eddie’s.  Your fingers tangled with his over your stomach.  Where you expected to feel blood, you only felt your own skin- and something sharp, attached to Eddie’s hands.  Claws.  Neat.

Your strength was coming back slowly, inch by inch, but you could feel it- you could feel life return to every vein and nerve you had.  

“Whatever you’re doing,” you whispered, “Don’t stop.  Please don’t stop.”

A smile broke out across his face, “I won’t.  I promise, I promise I won’t.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and giving you a good view of those things behind him- wings.  Actual fucking wings.  They were beautiful, terrifying, and they were half wrapped around you, keeping you close to Eddie.  You loved them, instantly, but good lord were you confused.

“Am I dead?” your voice was still quiet, still fragile despite your growing strength.

“No, sweetheart.  I couldn’t let that happen to you.  I couldn’t let them take you from me.”

“So this…” your eyes searched his face, “All of this is real.  I’m not dead or dreaming?”

“You’re not.  You’re awake, and alive, and in a few minutes we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “That’s nice.  Are you going to fly me out of here?”

He paused, seeming surprised, as if he had forgotten about the massive wings behind him.  A deep blush overtook his face, painting him red from his jaw to his ears.

“Yeah, about that,” he winced, “I know this is a terrible time to tell you, and I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I’m not really a person.  Or at least, I’m not anymore.  I’m so sorry that-” You cut him off before he could say anything else.

“They’re perfect.  You’re perfect.  It’s all very metal.”

He laughed at your words, ignoring the tears that spilled over his cheeks.  Without a word, you reached for him, trying to maneuver yourself into a sitting position as you wrapped your arms around his neck.  He leaned down, meeting you halfway, and burying his face in the bare skin of your shoulder.  His messy curls stuck to your skin.  His strong arms curved around your back, his fingers digging into you as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Just hold me for a second, please,” you whispered, running your fingers up and into his hair, “Don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he gasped, his voice trembling terribly, “I almost lost you.  You’re not leaving my sight ever again.”

“Good,” your voice broke, your eyes burning as tears of your own began to fall, “Don’t let me go.  Don’t ever let me go.”

“I won’t.  I promise.  I’ve got you.”

Eddie pulled away first.  You made a small sound of protest, but he wasn’t gone long.  He didn’t even take his hands off of you.  He just took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.  

When you looked down at your body, at his clothes covering you, you couldn’t help but notice that you had been healed of every single stab wound and every single bruise.  There wasn’t even a scar left behind.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.”

“I mean it, Eds.  I would have died if you hadn’t come to get me, I-” you paused, watching as Eddie anxiously bit his lip.  Heat pooled in your stomach like the births and deaths of a thousand stars.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away.  You really wanted to kiss him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you moved closer, your lips barely an inch away from his.

His eyes went wide.  His grip on you tightened.  You could feel his breath catch, feel the way he tensed up in anticipation.  Everything about him betrayed how badly he wanted you.

“Shit, I-” he took a shuddering breath, his fingers kneading a pattern into your skin, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

“Good,” you leaned in, but he stopped you, placing a hand on your shoulder to put some space between you.  You paused, tilting your head as his fingers ran down to your hip.

“Wait,” his voice was so quiet, “Just wait.  I don’t want to- I don’t want to take advantage, y’know?  You just went through something terrifying, and I-”

“You don’t want to hurt me,” you reached up to cradle Eddie’s jaw in your hands, letting your thumbs stroke across his skin, “You’re still protecting me.  You’ve been doing that all night, y’know.  You should let yourself take a break.”

Eddie tried not to grin and failed.  His grip tightened on you as you pulled him closer, your chest pressing against his as you sat up properly.  

“Hey, I have a demon question for ya,” you pulled one hand away from his face, tracing lines up and down his arm.  You followed the thick ridges of his veins, a deep blue against his pale skin.  You hid your grin as he inhaled sharply.  His fingers would definitely leave bruises on your hip, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

“Demons usually offer their aid in exchange for something, right?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Just answer the question, Munson,” you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, and you watched him melt in front of you.

“Yes, we usually take souls and shit, but I couldn’t ask you for that.  I couldn’t, I-”

“Could you take something else?”

He let out a half gasp, “Wh- what?”

“Could you.  Take.  Something else?” you met his gaze dead on, “A firstborn, maybe?”

“Oh, sweet girl, you are trying to kill me.”

You giggled- actually fucking giggled- and leaned into his chest.  Maybe you were trying to kill him, just a little bit.  Maybe you wanted something else.  

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, something across the room broke.  Beneath the collapsed gun cabinet, something was moving.

“Shit,” Eddie whispered, “Get behind me.” 

Without another word, he let you go and moved to stand in front of you.  His wings spread wide, blocking you from sight as someone began to rise from the rubble.

“I’ll kill you,” Roman’s voice was weak, “I’LL KILL BOTH OF YOU!”

“Don’t you people ever die?”  Eddie asked, exasperated as his body tensed, preparing for a fight.

You stepped to the side ever so slightly, getting a glimpse of Roman that you very much could have lived without.  There he was, your ex boyfriend, his face painted red with his own blood.  His shirt was torn revealing bruised and broken skin beneath.

He looked like a monster.  And he looked like he wanted to kill Eddie.

For whatever reason, your gaze turned to the side.  You winced as your eyes fell upon Cecilia’s body, lying across the room in a pool of crimson.  Eddie had destroyed her.  He’d destroyed all of them.  It was a gorey sight, but you had a hard time finding sympathy for a woman who watched as you were held down and tortured.  If Roman wasn’t being a little shit, you might have grinned.

Beside her, in a puddle of viscera that you could only assume was once Benedict , was the elaborately decorated knife that almost brought about your end.  

“You haven’t even seen the worst that I could do to her,” Roman growled, “You love her, don’t you, demon?  Then it’ll hurt you even more when I flay her alive.” 

“You won’t live long enough to get the chance.”

“Won’t I?  I’ve lived this long!  You killed everyone else, but I’m still here!  I-I have been chosen!  By you- by God!”

You slipped under the table, dashing across the room to grab the knife.

“Man, I genuinely thought you were dead until right now.  Your survival was a mistake.”

“There are no mistakes, demon.  I was meant to be here.  I was meant to survive!  To carry on the LeBuer line!  And I think I’ll use that pet of yours to do it.”

Eddie made a deep, inhuman sound at the back of his throat.  From your space across the room, you watched as he lunged at Roman, teeth and claws bared.  He was ready to attack, and so enraged that he didn’t see the grin that spread across the LeBuer boy’s face.

When Eddie flew across the room, Roman dove out of the way, bending down and seizing a wayward piece of glass.  He leapt at Eddie, shoving him into the wall and bringing his forged weapon to his chest.  Roman’s hand bled where it clenched around the sharp object, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’d kill you now, demon, but it would be much more fun to make you watch,” he pressed the glass into Eddie’s shirt.  Honestly, it didn’t do much.  Eddie pulled back, his neck tensed.  He looked absolutely murderous.  Realizing his mistake, Roman dropped the blade and wrapped his undamaged hand around Eddie’s throat.  It took everything you had to keep from screaming- and you couldn’t scream- for the sake of stealth.

The two men were so focused on each other that they didn’t notice you coming.  They didn’t notice you leveling the knife at Roman’s back.

“Roman,” you called his attention to you.  Roman turned, and from the look in his eyes alone, you knew that given half the chance, he would make good on every threat he’d made.

You took a deep breath and drove the knife straight through Roman’s chest.  You didn’t stop until you had run him through.  Roman let out an agonized screech as he stared down at the blade protruding through his body.  You winced as he collapsed, his weight pulling the blade from your hands.  As he spit blood at your feet, you whispered, “We’re.  Fucking.  Done.”

A moment passed, silent and still.  Your hands shook slightly.  Taking another deep breath, you looked up at Eddie.  His big dark eyes were already on you.  Without another thought, you leapt over Roman’s body, running into Eddie’s arms.  You fell into him, and he caught you like he was made to do just that.

He held you close, his grip strong and reassuring.  You buried your face in his chest for a moment, your hands gripping onto him hard enough to bruise.  You could feel his wings wrap around you again, locking you in a soft and safe dimension of your own.  Eddie whispered something to you, several somethings, but you couldn’t quite hear him.  You could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest, but you couldn’t register anything.  It was all just static.

You looked up at him, eyes wide.   His soft lips were moving, speaking, and the motion was hypnotic.

“Can I kiss you now?”

He paused, lips parted slightly and eyes wide.  You spread your fingers across his chest, brushing your thumb across his collar bone.

“I saved you.  You saved me,” you leaned closer, “We’re even now, right?  So we can kiss each other without feeling bad about it?”

He stared at your lips.  His eyebrows furrowed together slightly, creating the picture of a conflicted man.  You could feel his heart racing in his chest, just beneath your fingertips.  

“Eddie?” 

“Fuck it.”

Eddie’s lips were on yours before you could make another sound.  His hands were on your face in an instant, cradling your jaw with such a sweet intensity that you almost melted into him, then and there.  Your hands came up to grip his arms, and you followed them up the shape of his body until your fingers wrapped around his shoulders.  Without another thought, you pulled him closer.

He let out the sweetest sounds as you parted his lips with your tongue.  You wrapped one of your legs around his, desperate to feel his touch everywhere you could.  He lowered a hand to your waist, nearly clawing your side in his desperation to hold you.  Need turned the both of you into animals just a few shades from feral.

 “We’re even,” he spoke against your lips, breathless and panting, “We are so, so even, angel.  Fuck-”

“Haha, I get it now.  You’re a demon, and I’m-” you cut yourself off, whining into Eddie’s mouth as he bit down on your lip just hard enough to make your flesh sting.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered as pressed kisses to your jaw, “You’re my angel.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Eds, I’m- I’m perfect… When's Hopper gonna get here?”

He paused, tilting his head, “Not for a while… why?”

“Because I have plans for us, pretty boy.”

A wicked grin crossed Eddie’s lips as he dove back into you.

Eddie may have seen you as angelic, but the thoughts running through your head were anything but holy.  Your blood seemed to burn wherever he touched you.  Sparks flew with every touch he left on your skin.  You were seconds away from catching fire, from burning brighter than any star the sky had to offer.  You let out a soft moan as Eddie’s lips trailed down your throat.  

“I need you,” you panted, “I need you, Eddie, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweet girl, whatever you-”

You cut him off by leaning forward and wrapping your lips and teeth around his shoulder.  You bit down, marking him up without drawing blood.  The moan that slipped from him was far too pretty for you to handle.  Your hips moved against his thigh, grinding against him desperately.  You were very much aware that you were acting like a pathetic slut, but you didn’t really care.  You needed him- and judging by the hard length pressed against you, he needed you just as much.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him blindly towards the altar/table in the center of the room.  He followed eagerly.  You both stumbled, nearly falling to the ground since you both refused to break the kiss.  

Your back hit the altar with a harsh thud.  You let out a soft whine, jumping up to sit on the flat surface just as Eddie pulled away.

“Are you okay?  That sounded like it hurt-”

“I’m fine,” you reached behind you and unhooked your bra, exposing your breasts to the cold air of the sacrifice room, “Can you do me a favor and tear off what’s left of my dress?”

Eddie didn’t move.  He didn’t say anything, either.  He kind of just froze for a second.  When you looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes were completely glued to your chest.  A sweet blush graced his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but grin.  

The fact that he wanted you, that he couldn’t look away from you set off another set of sparks deep inside your body.  Absolute want pooled at your core as galaxies formed in his eyes.  You were his universe.  You could see it.

“You okay there, Munson?”

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

You let out a laugh before reaching out and pulling him close.  Once you had him between your thighs, you wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Thank you, Eds.  Now are you gonna help me with my dress, or am I going to have to take it off myself?”

You tilted your head to the side, unable to wipe the smile from your face as Eddie continued to devour you with his eyes.  His hands came up to your sides, trembling slightly as he took you into his hands.  Something dark and dominant flashed in his eyes.  His grip tightened.

“You’re gonna have to wait a second,” his voice was low, almost inhuman, and fucking delicious to your ears.  You laughed again as he buried his face in your chest, kissing and biting your skin, leaving purple marks behind.  Your laughter quickly gave way to breathy moans and desperate pleas as Eddie’s lips moved across your exposed flesh.  Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling at the roots and giving them a slight tug.  He growled against you, biting down hard and marking you with the shape of his teeth.

“God, I want you to do terrible things to me.”

“You’re-” he cut himself off with a kiss, “Adorable.” 

“I’m serious!  I almost died today- we both did.  I’ve come face to face with my own mortality, and I realized that life is too short.  If I don’t ask you to rail me now, who knows if I’ll get another chance?  In other words, please fuck my brains out before we get hit by a meteor or something.”

He laughed.  You could feel the vibrations in every place his skin met yours.  You kind of wanted to scream.

“We’re not gonna get hit by a meteor.”

“You don’t know that!” you sat up, pulling his face from your chest and holding his jaw in one hand, “We could get meteored any second, so I need you to know that I love you.”

His soft brown eyes bore into your soul for a moment, and honestly, you wouldn’t have cared that much if a meteor did smite you at that particular moment.  You had Eddie.  You had everything you needed.

“I love you, too,” he pushed you back and finally, finally set his claws on your dress.  He tore it off slowly, making you ache with anticipation.  You could feel the sharp, pleasant scratch of his nails against your skin again, slipping beneath the waist of your underwear.  You really wouldn’t complain if he just ripped you open, but you knew he wouldn’t.  Not unless you asked nicely.

“By the way,” he leaned up to kiss you, “I wouldn’t let you get hit by a meteor.”

“Is that something you could prevent?” you tried to come off as confident, but your voice snapped into a million pieces as he pulled your panties down your thighs.

“I’d do my best,” he shrugged, tossing your underwear to the side for the moment.

“That’s comforting.”

“You’re the one that came up with the meteor thing,” he gripped your thighs, claws just biting at your flesh as his fingers flexed, “You know I’ll always protect you.”

He would.  He had.  He’d proved that much to you.  He leaned in slowly, kissing your lips again before moving down to your throat, tracing the pattern of purple bruises and bite marks that he’d already left.  You squirmed in his hold, hips thrashing slightly.  You could feel yourself dripping.  Arousal gathered between your thighs as he eased his way down your body.  

Eddie’s arms hooked themselves around your thighs, hands spreading on your hips- he was holding you in place.  After pressing another kiss to your skin just below your navel, Eddie paused.  When he looked up at you, you could feel the space of the universe fill your lungs.  When his eyes met yours, the heat of the sun made its home within your ribcage.  

“Please,” you begged.  It was all you had to say.

He bit his way down your thigh, leaving another trail of marks on your skin.  His lips were so soft against your skin.  When he reached your aching pussy, he grinned.

“You’re soaked for me, sweetheart.  How long have you needed this?”

“Too long,” you whimpered, though the sound turned into a moan as he pressed a kiss to your throbbing clit. 

“My poor girl,” his tone was soft with the slightest hint of mockery.  You opened your mouth to respond, but you cut yourself off with a whine as Eddie’s tongue met your entrance.  He lapped at you, collecting your arousal like something feral.  His nose nudged against your clit, making you cry out his name.  

“That’s it baby,” he moaned, “Just like that, fuck.”

You called out his name again, and he buried himself deeper inside you- a reward for your good behaviour.  You could feel Eddie smile against you, grinning like a madman and lapping up your arousal as it dripped down his face.  You could feel your body clench around nothing, feel yourself draw closer to the edge.

His hands reached up, moving over your hips to your breasts.  His calloused fingers brushed over your nipples, squeezing and circling until you threw your head back against the altar.  You tugged at his hair again, pulling him closer to your core with a desperate whine- not that he was any better at keeping his composure.  

The noises he made were nothing short of delicious- hungry praises and moans that let you know just how much he wanted you.  After the blood-soaked night you had, you needed to hear that.  You needed to hear him moan your name.  You needed to hear how badly he ached for you.  It sent you right over the edge.

You let out a weak cry as he devoured you, as he sucked and bit softly, and as his fingers dipped down to find your dripping entrance.  You clenched around nothing, your hips thrusting into his face of their own accord.  The world faded around you, disappearing into a void of stars that burned half as brightly as you did.  

“You taste so good,” he whispered, sounding almost mindless, rambling as if eating you out had decimated his ability to think, “So, so fucking good.”

You simply panted in response.  Your grip relaxed on Eddie’s hair for just a second before you pulled him up to face you.  He went willingly, obediently, following the unspoken order.  When you brought his lips to yours, you could taste yourself on him.  

One of his hands left your chest, moving to your back to pull you closer, deeper into the kiss.  His fingers spread out across your back, rough fingertips dug into you carefully, almost gently.  You pinned his other hand to your chest, threading your fingers through his and pressing your joined hands into your skin.  You and Eddie wrapped your bodies around each other, refusing to let go as you kissed the breath from his lips.

His body was soft but firm beneath your hands.  He was your anchor, keeping you tethered in the real world, ensuring that you didn’t float off into another world while you were with him.  You needed that.

Slowly, keeping his hands on you, you sat up.  You wrapped your free arm around his neck.  He literally couldn’t get any closer to you, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.  The hand that you had tangled with his slipped away, tracing a line down his chest until it reached the button of his jeans.  

You let your fingers play with the fabric, slipping beneath it to feel the rough, scarred skin of his hip.  You paused for a minute, surprised at what you felt.  Eddie pulled back for a second, a mildly embarrassed look on his face.  You didn’t let him stay away for long.  You pressed your lips to his again, hard and fast as you full on attacked his jeans.

“You must want me pretty bad, huh, angel?”

“How do you figure?” you asked, pulling him closer with the arm around his neck and bringing your lips to his neck.  You kissed the column of his throat for a few moments before you bit down harshly, lips and teeth completely unforgiving.  When you pulled back, a large swath of his skin was stained purple.

“Yeah, pretty boy,” you pressed a kiss to the sore spot, “I want you.”

“Good,” he growled, pushing you back onto the table and pulling you to the edge of the surface.  He brushed his hand across the side of your face before lowering it, tracing down your side until he reached your cunt, “Because I want to do unspeakable things to you, pretty girl.”

You moaned, your face burning hotter than the heat death of a small universe.  Eddie slipped his fingers into you.  He took things slow at first, torturing you by easing you into things, pumping into you gently with just the tips of two fingers.  You mewled, craving more of his touch.  You’d given up on wondering how his claws weren’t cutting you.  You just wanted his calloused fingers to go deeper.

Eddie silenced your pleading whines with a kiss.  Slipping deeper into you, he whispered, “You have to be patient, angel.  You can be patient for me, right?”

“I-” you moaned as he sunk his fingers deeper.  His dark eyes watched your face intently, taking in every change in your expression.

“Come on, sweet thing.  You can be patient, right?”

You whimpered, opening your mouth to respond.  You didn’t get the chance.  Eddie moved his fingers again, moving his fingers in and out of your dripping slit.  You moaned softly, and as your lips parted, Eddie added a third finger.  The sound you made snapped, becoming louder and more desperate as your demon brought you to the edge again.  

“Eddie,” you whimpered, “Please.  Don’t be mean to me.”

He laughed a little, pressing a kiss to your lips as he brought his thumb to your clit.  You came quickly, thrashing slightly in his arms as you clenched around his fingers.

“God,” he groaned, “You’re so fuckin tight.  Such a good girl for me.”

You let out a little whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on top of you.  The two of you stayed there for a moment, holding each other again as you calmed down.

“Think you can give me one more, pretty girl?”

“Is that even a question?”

He kissed your throat again, keeping you distracted as he freed his cock from his pants.  He pulled away for a moment, allowing you to see the absolute monster he kept between his thighs.  You knew, now, why he had prepared you so thoroughly.  It was necessary.

His cock was almost unnatural- long and thick, red near the tip and covered in veins.  It looked… demonic.  And you wanted to take him inside you as soon as you possibly could.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

“I do,” you grinned, reaching out for him.  He leaned in, placing his face against your palm.  He smiled down at you, his eyes incredibly fond.  You were the thing he had searched all time and space for- and you had searched for him.  Now, you were both found, both real- as batshit insane as it was that this was the place that made you so.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he whispered, “If I need to stop.”

“I will.  I promise.” He pressed into you, slowly and gently, letting you feel every single ridge and vein.  You shut your eyes, moaning softly.  Eddie braced himself with one arm, using the other to knead at the soft flesh of your chest.  His lips were on your throat again, adding more marks to the sea of purple that he’d already made.  

Once he was inside, he paused, just taking a moment to feel your body around him.  You clenched down on him, running a hand into his hair to tug at it again.  

“You’re so fucking warm,” he growled in your ear, “So fucking tight.”

“Thanks, I worked hard on that.”

Eddie lost his composure, thrusting into you gently as he laughed, “You are so deeply strange.  I adore you, did you know that?”

You thrust your hips up towards his, “I kind of figured, I’m not gonna lie.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his thrusts increased in speed as you bathed in the light of his smile.  You could feel his cock deep inside of you, pressing against every sensitive spot you had.  You moaned softly as his thumb stroked over your nipple.  The stimulation of his calloused touch on your breast had you arching your back, pressing further into him.

“You’re so deep inside,” your voice wasn’t much more than a whimper, though you willed it to be stronger, “Fuck, keep going.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he thrust into you harder, leaning down to bite your chest, clearly not satisfied with the job he’d done on your neck.

His hand slipped down to your clit, pressing into your swollen nub.  He circled it in time with his thrusts, alternating between heavy pressure and feather light touches until you were seeing stars and screaming his name.  

“Are you gonna cum for me sweet thing?”

You didn’t even get to answer his question.  You came around his cock quickly, and he fucked you through your orgasm without a moment of hesitation.  Your body spasmed, your walls clenching down on him until he moaned your name into your skin.  

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath.  Eddie’s lips didn’t leave you.  He laved his tongue over the bite marks he’d made, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart.  Such a good girl for me.”

You clenched down around him again, moaning this time at the praise.  You searched your mind for a witty comment, something cute to say to make him laugh, but your brain was full of stars and nothing else.  Every time his cock stabbed into you, another damn galaxy found life behind your eyes.  

You used the hand you had tangled in Eddie’s hair to pull him closer.  You pressed your lips to every part of him that you could reach.

“I love you,” you whispered, “I love you.  I love you so fucking much.”

“I know, sweet thing.  I love you, too.”

You tugged his hair, biting down on the side of his throat, and he moaned softly.  You clenched your now sensitive walls around him, whimpering slightly at the sensation.  He let out a sharp exhale, and his hand left your clit to wrap around your hip.  You could feel how wet your cunt was just from the feeling of his damp fingers on your skin.

His thrusts grew harsher, his pace speeding up to something unforgiving.  His grip on you was bruising, but you wouldn’t mind the marks.  

“Are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” you asked, “Are you gonna cum inside me?”

His hips stuttered, and you could practically feel his heart skip a beat, “Can I?”

“Please.  I want to feel you- I want this.”

“You- you promise you want this?  The whole- the whole deal about your only purpose being to create life, that isn’t in your head, right?”

You shook your head, “No.  Not with you.”

One of his hands found one of yours.  Your fingers tangled together like they were made to do just that.  You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Besides, I’m on the pill, anyway.”

He laughed again, briefly against your lips before he went right back to kissing you.  He squeezed down on your hand, his teeth grazing your lip.  You could feel him twitching against your walls, could feel his cock throbbing inside you.  

He thrust all the way inside you as he came.  Ropes of hot cum flooded your walls, filling your cunt and warming you from the inside out.  Another orgasm took you by surprise, rolling over you suddenly and making you clench down hard.  Cum spilled down your thighs, pooling on the altar beneath you.

When Eddie pulled out, you were both completely breathless.  His hand was still in yours, his body still draped over top of you.  You wrapped your free arm around him, your fingers landing on the spot where his back met his wings.  They unfurled behind him, showing you their impressive size in whole.

“You’re amazing,” your voice was quiet, trying not to ruin the post-orgasm haze, “I don’t know how I managed to land you.”

“Are you kidding?” he murmured, his voice just as quiet, “I don’t know how I managed to land you.  You’re terrifying,” he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, “And sweet,” another kiss, “And you’re fucking stunning,” a third kiss.

He pulled back, warm eyes dead focused on you, “I’m in love with you, sweetheart.  I have been for a while.”

“Good.  Because I love you, too, and I think all of this would be a touch awkward if you didn’t love me.”

He grinned, pressing his face into your shoulder and pulling you up.  More cum spilled out of you and onto the altar.  You reached down, collecting some of it on your fingers and putting it in your mouth.

“Fuck-” Eddie hissed, “Don’t do that.  You’re gonna make me cum again.”

You threw your head back, cackling as Eddie put his forehead against your shoulder.  

“Would that really be such a bad thing?”

“Normally?  No.  But I just noticed that that painting looks kind of like my dad, and it’s freaking me out,” he pointed at the wall, to the massive portrait of the smirking gentleman with black hair.

You tilted your head, casually running a hand through Eddie’s hair.  If you squinted, you could almost see the resemblance between Eddie and the man in the painting.  You didn’t want to think about it.  You’d had enough creepy shit for one evening.

“We should get going,” you murmured, wrapping Eddie’s leather jacket around you again, “Hopper will be here soon, and I don’t really want him to see us like this.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie looped his hand beneath your knees, “You brought your stuff for the weekend, right?”

“I-I did.  Eddie, wait-!”

Before you could stop him, he lifted you up, carrying you over the bodies and out of the room.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly.

“Am I not-?  Do I weigh anything to you?”

“Demon strength.  It’s like lifting a bunch of grapes.”

You scoffed, letting your head rest against Eddie’s shoulder, “I don’t know where the butlers put my stuff.  My bag could be in the body pit for all I know.”

“It’s not, I was down there.”

You scoffed again, ”Well, we’ll have to hunt for my shit I guess.”

You did.  It didn’t actually take long.  Most of your things had just been left by the door.  As was the-

“Oh shit!  The wine!” you exclaimed, patting Eddie’s chest until he put you down.  You ran over to the bottle, which had been left just beside your bags- bags that you ignored entirely in exchange for the sweet bottle of vintage.

“Angel, don’t you-?  Want your clothes first-?”

“Eddie, you don’t understand, this wine was fucking expensive and I didn’t think I was gonna get a chance to drink it.”

You struggled helplessly with the cork for a few seconds before you gave up and handed it to Eddie.

“Demon strength?”

He laughed at you a little, but he did open the bottle for you.  While he did, you pulled some clothes out of your bag- a shirt you’d meant to sleep in, and some pajama pants.  You kept Eddie’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

Once you were dressed, the wine was ready to go.  You gave Eddie a cheer, and a small round of applause.  He joined you, and for a moment you both applauded like idiots in the foyer of Roman’s big ass house.  The portraits seemed to smile down at you, grinning your approval as you drank the blood coloured wine.

You and Eddie passed the bottle back and forth wordlessly as you made your way to the door.  Your hand slipped into his again.  Every time you held his hand, you felt more and more like that’s what your hands were supposed to do- what you wanted them to do.  When you weren’t busy taking over the world, you wanted to hold Eddie close to you.

The two of you sat together on the front stoop of the McMansion.  The porch light cast a warm glow over the front yard.  The freshly mowed lawn had drowned beneath a sea of leaves since you last saw it.  You let your head rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“What the fuck are we gonna tell Hopper?”

Eddie took a drink of the wine, “The truth.  Your in-laws tried to kill you.  We didn’t let them.”

“I’m pretty sure we both committed several counts of murder tonight.”

He shrugged, “Eh, it wouldn’t be the first time.  For me, anyway.”

You looked up at him, concerned, though you didn’t move away from his shoulder, “Should I be concerned?”

“I mean, I haven’t technically killed any people?  It’s a long story.”

“Oh,” you nodded, taking the bottle from him and taking down a deep sip of wine, “So.  What about the melted puddles of people?  How do we explain that?  Do we just tell the cops that you’re a demon?”

Again, Eddie shrugged, though a wince crossed his face, “Well, Hopper knows.”

“WHAT?”

“Yep.  And Steve.  And Robin.  They know.”

“What?  Okay, okay, who else knows?”

“Nancy doesn’t know officially, but I think she’s aware.  Also, you know those kids who come into Family Video like, constantly?”

“Mhmm, the freshmen.”

“Yeah, they know.  One of them was there for it.”

“It?”

“The incident.  I’ll tell you about it another night, we’ve… we’ve been through a lot today.”

“That’s one way of putting it.  I think tonight was my incident.”

“You could definitely call it that.”

You smiled, lacing your fingers with Eddie’s, “If this was my incident, I’m glad you were here for it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, placing his head on top of yours.

“Yeah.”

You let your eyes flutter closed then, knowing that you were safe from harm.  When you woke, there would be no sirens, and no flashing lights.  Just the guy with the sweet daughter, who bought literally all of the Barbie movies and Die Hard.  The former for his daughter and her friend, the latter for his daughter’s other friends.

When you woke, Eddie would be there with you.  His eyes would be brown again, and his wings would be tucked away so well that you would wonder if this whole nightmare had been a terrible dream.  You would feel his hand around yours, and you would know it hadn’t been.  You would know, finally, that you were no longer anyone’s prey.  

You were the hunter.

♥ A/N: I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE SEPTEMBER WHAT THE FUCK. IT'S SO LONG MY EDITING SOFTWARE WOULDN'T ACCEPT IT, SO YOU'RE GETTING THIS THING RAW. happy halloween babes, i hope you enjoyed this. thank you to @mxcheese for reading this a million times, and to my partner for listening to me ramble about various plot points with no context.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Saturday linkdump, part the sixth

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

On September 14, I'm hosting the EFF Awards in San Francisco.

I usually write this blog 5-6 days/week, but every now and again, I take a break, and when I do, I get massive link backlogs of stuff I want to write about, but lack the time to address in depth. When that happens, I turn my Saturday edition into a linkdump. Today, I present the sixth in the series – here's the other five:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Why was I offline and away from my blog? I went to the dirt rave. Yes, I was one of the 70,000+ people stuck in the mud at this year's Burning Man, and when I emailed my editor at the New York Times to say I might be late on the op-ed I was working on, she asked me to write about what this year's mud crisis meant:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/06/opinion/burning-man-flood-playa-climate-change.html

tl;dr:

Bad weather is normal at Burning Man (it's a feature, not a bug);

Mostly burners leapt to the occasion, which is what people almost always do in disaster situations;

This is the second Burning Man heavy weather year in a row;

The climate emergency is tipping the Black Rock Desert from "extremely challenging" to "impossible";

This isn't the last event, place and tradition that will have to be radically reconsidered in light of the climate emergency;

But now I'm home, in my hammock, with all the laundry done – just in time to leave again. I'm about to head back to my hometown of Toronto for a book launch. The Internet Con, my latest nonfiction (from Verso Books) came out last week, and I'll be appearing at Another Story Bookshop on Tuesday:

https://anotherstory.ca/events/29283

Internet Con is a "Big Tech disassembly manual." It explains how Big Tech got so big (lax anti-monopoly enforcement, which led to regulatory capture, which let Big Tech abuse our privacy, labor rights, and consumer rights), and how we can use interoperability so it's no longer Too Big to Fail, nor Too Big to Jail:

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

You can read a long excerpt from the book in Wired, which lays out some of the shovel-ready legislative, regulatory and technical proposals that are the book's main purpose:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-internet-con-cory-doctorow-book-excerpt/

You can also hear me read the whole introduction and first chapter of the audiobook on my podcast:

https://craphound.com/internetcon/2023/08/01/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation-audiobook-outtake/

That comes from the audiobook, a DRM-free, independent edition that I financed, produced and narrated myself. You can get the audiobook everywhere except Audible, Apple Books, and Audiobooks.com, all of which have mandatory DRM policies. You can also get it direct from me:

https://transactions.sendowl.com/products/78992826/DEA0CE12/purchase

The DRM-free ebook is available everywhere ebooks are sold (Kobo, Kindle, Nook, etc), as well as in my own DRM-free ebook store:

https://transactions.sendowl.com/products/78992801/9C4FC2B8/purchase

Verso's books are sold in bookstores around the world; you can support your local bookseller by buying it through Bookshop:

https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation-cory-doctorow/18771891?ean=9781804291245

If you'd like a signed copy, there's stock at Book Soup:

https://www.booksoup.com/book/9781804291245

Now, it was inevitable that I would do a book event for Internet Con in Toronto – I've never had a bad event there, and I love my hometown – but the timing of this event was driven by a non-book-related factor. Talking Heads is appearing together at TIFF, to support the re-release of Stop Making Sense, the greatest concert film in human history:

https://pluralistic.net/StopMakingSense

People often ask me what my favorite book is, and I always tell them that you should never trust people who have one favorite book, as it inevitably turns out to be The Bible, The Fountainhead, or Mein Kampf. But while I don't have a favorite book, I have a clear and unambiguous favorite band.

If I was forced to listen to no music other than Talking Heads for the rest of my life, I would be perfectly happy. Ecstatic, even. Throw in David Byrne, Tom Tom Club and Casual Gods and I probably wouldn't even notice anything missing.

There's a running joke among my Burning Man campmates that whenever I'm in charge of the music, I'm just shuffling Talking Heads rarities, and whenever someone puts on anything else, I demand to know which Talking Heads album it came from. Which is all to say: I have tickets for the Talking Heads event at TIFF and I could *not be more excited.*

Continuing on the Canadian theme, one of the annual highlights of Canadian media is the Massey Lectures, a series of public lectures given around the country and rebroadcast on CBC. These are always great, but recent years have been superb – Ron Deibert's 2020 series was unmissable:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/10/dark-matter/#citizenlab

This year's Masseys are shaping up to be the GOAT. They're presented by Astra Taylor, an activist rock-and-roller turned documentary filmmaker who is one of the founders of the Debt Collective, fighting for student debt cancellation. Everything Astra does is amazing and her profile on CBC Ideas gives some background on the role that unschooling played in making her the powerful activist she is today:

https://www.cbc.ca/radio/ideas/astra-taylor-interview-2023-massey-lecturer-1.6959320

There's no question that things are messed up right now, but Astra and people like her shine out like beacons of hope. 17 years ago, self-described "democracy nut" Tom Stites gave one of the seminal lectures on the role news media play in democracy:

http://citmedia.org/blog/2006/07/03/guest-posting-is-media-performance-democracys-critical-issue/

17 years later – and from his perch as editor at the essential International Consortium of Investigative Journalists – Stites presents us a long-overdue, extremely pertinent followup: "Building Civic Energy is the Goal, Not Saving Old News Business Models":

https://banyanproject.coop/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Hope-College-speech-for-Banyan-website-1.pdf

Stites's intervention is extremely timely, because policymakers all over the world have made the mistake of thinking that Big Tech is stealing the news media's content, which is absolutely untrue. It is good, actually, to index news stories and let people discuss, quote from and link to news stories. News you're not allowed to talk about isn't news, it's a secret.

But Big Tech is stealing from news. They're not stealing content – they're stealing money. The Google/Apple duopoly rakes 30% off every subscription payment collected in an app. The Google/Meta duopoly rakes 51% out of every ad-dollar (and maintain that death-grip through creepy, privacy-invading surveillance ads). Meta and Twitter hold social media subscribers hostage, forcing publishers to pay to reach their own subscribers.

We don't want the news to be Big Tech's partners – we need them to be Big Tech's watchdogs. "Link taxes" and other profit-sharing arrangements between the media and tech cut against the civic energy Stites wants to build.

(You can read more about this – along with policy prescriptions for halting Big Tech's rent-extraction from the news – in "Saving the News From Big Tech," my EFF white-paper:)

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

If your spirits are lifted by stories of principled activists achieving important – and improbable – victories, you could do worse than to attend the EFF Awards on in San Francisco Sept 14 (I'm the emcee). This year, we're honoring Alexandra Elbakyan for her founding of Sci-Hub, the Library Freedom Project and the Signal Foundation:

https://www.eff.org/awards/effawards/2023

In more activist news: Mozilla produced a startling and astoundingly good – if demoralizing – report on the state of digital privacy and security in the automotive sector:

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/articles/its-official-cars-are-the-worst-product-category-we-have-ever-reviewed-for-privacy/

Entitled, "It’s Official: Cars Are the Worst Product Category We Have Ever Reviewed for Privacy," the report reveals just how absolutely terrible the automotive sector is when it comes to privacy practices, collecting (and selling) (and giving away) information about your sex life, your geneology, your genetic characteristics, and your smell (no, seriously).

Their recommendations for which new car you should buy boil down to "don't buy a new car." I have been urging consumer research groups to release a report like this for a decade. There are whole categories of gadgets – like, say, "smart speakers" – that are unsafe at any speed. At a certain point, reviewers need to have the guts to say that every manufacturer in an entire sector is a dumpster fire and they should all be dragged in front of a firing squad – or at least a Congressional committee.

Cars, after all, are nightmares of privacy invasion and rent-extraction, the source of autoenshittification on a massive scale, a mobile form of technofeudalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

The fact that cars score so badly on privacy is especially ironic given the campaign Big Car waged against the 2020 Massachusetts Right to Repair ballot initiative, in which car manufacturers held themselves out as the defenders of driver privacy from unscrupulous third parties who couldn't be trusted to handle the vast troves of data your car collects with every hour that God sends:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

This is a familiar refrain: monopolists often claim that any check on their absolute authority over their users will expose those users to privacy risks. Apple has run a global ad-campaign claiming this, and while Apple does prevent Facebook from spying on iPhone owners, they also secretly spy on those customers in exactly the same way that Facebook used to, and lie about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

It turns out that giant companies just aren't good proxies for their customers' interests, and that the power they amass through monopolization shouldn't be counted on as a source of user safety. Monopolists won't reliably defend user privacy – that job belongs to democratically accountable regulators. That's an argument I developed in detail with Bennett Cyphers in our EFF white-paper "Privacy Without Monopoly":

https://www.eff.org/wp/interoperability-and-privacy

That is, rather than getting privacy by "voting with your wallet," you need to get it by voting with your ballot. "The market" is an election that you vote in with dollars, which means that the people with the most dollars always win. When there are zero cars on the market that are safe to drive, you can't vote with your wallet by buying a good one.

On a related subject, the DOJ Antitrust Division has brought the most important tech anti-monopoly case of the century, charging Google with monopolizing search:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/06/technology/modern-internet-first-monopoly-trial-us-google-dominance.html

Part of the DOJ case turns on the fact that Google goes to extraordinary lengths to keep you from every trying another search engine, paying out more than $45 billion every year to be the default search on every device, program and service you might use. In other words, Google spends entire Twitter's worth of dollars every year, lighting it on fire to keep you from finding out about rivals.

Google argues that this is fine, actually, because these are only defaults, and users can dig through their settings to change their search engine. Sure, Google – and the first 20 search results you serve are only defaults, and it wouldn't matter if you were ordered to put them ten screens down, because users could always scroll to see them.

But search defaults aren't the only way that Google locks in searchers – and then harms us by invading our privacy. Google's ubiquitous Chrome browser ties Google's search to Google's invasive, nonconsensual, total surveillance. Chrome turned 15 this year and Google made a huge PR splash out of the anniversary:

https://blog.google/products/chrome/google-chrome-new-features-redesign-2023/

But all that puffery conspicuously failed to mention that Google had quietly rolled out its long-discredited, new surveillance technology, FLOC, which it pretended to kill in 2021:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/22/ihor-kolomoisky/#not-that-competition

FLOC is back, rebranded as the Topics API: this is a system for spying on you so advertisers can target you. Google is spinning this as a privacy improvement because it might someday replace "third party cookies," one of the creepiest web surveillance systems.

But as Ron Amadeo writes for Ars Technica, Chrome is the last major browser to support third party cookies – both Safari and Firefox block them by default. So Google is basically saying, "We are going to improve your privacy by changing how we spy on you, even though all our competitors don't do this kind of spying at all":

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2023/09/googles-widely-opposed-ad-platform-the-privacy-sandbox-launches-in-chrome/

This kind of gaslighting, where Google pisses in all our mouths and tells us it's raining, is the hallmark of a decrepit, arrogant, crapulent monopolist that needs to be shattered in the courts. Kudos to the DoJ for doing the people's business here – and kudos to DoJ antitrust boss Jonathan Kanter for promising that he will not go into corporate law when he finishes his stint in government.

The DoJ isn't the only public agency that's serving the American people. The FCC just announced proceedings to force cybersecurity labels for "smart" devices:

https://www.fcc.gov/consumer-governmental-affairs/fcc-proposes-cybersecurity-labeling-program-smart-devices

This is long overdue, and it's a welcome action from the FCC, which was hamstrung for years because cowardly Democratic senators joined with homophobic, libelous Republicans in blocking confirmation hearings for the amazing Gigi Sohn:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/15/useful-idiotsuseful-idiots/#unrequited-love

After years of abuse, Sohn bowed out. Now, Anna Gomez has been confirmed to fill that fifth FCC chair, turning the FCC into a fully operational battle station:

https://www.fiercewireless.com/wireless/senate-votes-approve-anna-gomez-5th-fcc-commissioner

The fact that there's all this great stuff going on in the administrative branch is easy to lose sight of amidst the circus of federal electoral politics, in which Donald Trump has retained his role as ringmaster and chief distractor.

Thankfully, we have expert Pantsless Emperor skewerers like Ruben Bolling around – his latest Tom the Dancing Bug revives his brilliant Calvin and Hobbes-inspired Trump gag:

https://boingboing.net/2023/09/06/tom-the-dancing-bug-a-calvinesque-and-hobbesian-look-at-taking-a-mug-shot.html

Well, that's me signing off for the weekend – I've got to pack for my flight to Toronto. If you're looking for more weekend fun, check out the trailer for Fractured Veil, the video game my old pal Chris DiBona has been working on for seven years and which is heading for Steam early access next month:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjNd3QQnENU

Just watch it. I mean. Wow.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/09/nein-nein/#everything-is-miscellaneous

Image: Roel Schroeven (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/roelschroeven/45413895

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[balkanradfem]

I’m jealous of your lifestyle, how you talk about gardening and swimming in lakes and all that stuff. How are you able to do it? Do you own land? Are you rich? Do you have a job? I know that’s personal, but I ask because I want to make my life more like yours.

Gardening and swimming in lakes is not my life. It's only moments, and I choose to highlight those moments on this blog because I want to share my happy moments with someone, and hopefully inspire people to garden and to be less dependent on grocery stores for food.

It seems you only read few recent posts on my blog, but didn't find my posts where I write about health issues that are so bad that I cannot walk for more than 20 minutes, where I can't keep a full-time job because of my chronic illness, mostly can't afford to buy food and that is why I grow it in the community garden with no budget, posts where I'm heartbroken that the city where I live, with roommates, is taking down trees that are my only source of comfort.

I'm picking and choosing what to write about, and sometimes I only pick good moments because I don't want to spend my time here complaining and making people feel bad for me. And you now picked over those, to create this fictional lifestyle that nobody is having. I'm too sick to have a regular job, so I made peace with poverty and working less. So I have time for gardening, but I have to share a room, and eat just what I grow. And sometimes I can go and dunk myself into the river, which is something anyone can do who lives close to the river.

The thing is, this is what happens with anyone who showcases their light and happy moments online, it creates the illusion of a lifestyle that doesn't exist, you could pick and choose moments from anyone's life and make it seem like they're living a fictional life that feels too good to be true. People will even exaggerate to create that illusion on purpose, to create admiration or jealousy. But I purposely don't do that, I write about ruining my washing machine with moss, fixing my own toilet, despairing because my bike broke and I have no way to get to work because I can't walk, having a neck injury that doctors can't seem to help me with. It is heartbreaking to me that someone would say 'I want this lifestyle', nobody wants this.

If you have few hours of free time a week, and know of a place in a community garden, you can try to get a parcel and grow food there. If you have a body of water near you, you can try swimming in it, provided it's not polluted. If you live in an area where growing space is not accessible, and bodies of water are far away or polluted, then this is made difficult or impossible. My only luck is that the city I live in is not yet so badly polluted that air and water would be poisonous to me, so I can have my little moments enjoying the nature before the climate change gets to it.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Please...

Alright...Is everything ready?

Ryuji, off-screen: Camera's been set up and everything is in place. I've started recording.

Wait, already!?

Ryuji: We can cut out the parts that you don't want left in...But I have to ask, Mahiru...Are you sure you want to do this?

Some things need to be said, Ryuji. It'd probably be better if it came from my mouth anyway.

Ryuji: Alright, if you're sure. Start whenever.

Alright...

*Mahiru clears her throat.

Hello everyone...As you all know, I am Mahiru Koizumi, the former Ultimate Photographer, Remnant of Despair, and agent of Branch 3 of the Future Foundation.

And yes, I am speaking directly to those who follow this blog. The anons. Nice to speak with you directly for once when I'm not answering your questions.

I do, deep down, wish that what I want to talk about could be something a little more lighthearted.

Not that this is anything TOO serious, but still something that's gotten to the point that I need to bring it up and...just ask people kindly for a favor.

Alright, so...I guess I should start by providing a bit of context.

Recently, we had a big wash out of the asks in the box. Answering everything that was stored in there before today so that we have a clean box for when we open it again this weekend.

Keep in mind that though the box may open, we no longer have a schedule for answering asks. We will likely only do it when we have availability to do so. I hope you guys can understand that, but...that's not what I'm here to talk about.

Something that we noticed...as we were going through the asks...is that there was an abundance of a certain type of ask...

Now, since this blog started to gain followers, many people from all walks of life have come to visit, ask, and follow our adventures. And I cannot enforce enough just how grateful we are for all of that, and for all of you.

But...we need to make sure that we're all on the same page here, so I'm here to talk about a specific group of people...who are sending these very horny, degenerate asks, prying into our romantic and sex lives.

Now, let's state the facts here. We have rules on this blog that we expect everyone who comes here to follow, but we do not have a specific rule saying these sorts of asks are forbidden. And they shouldn't be. We encourage people to speak their mind here, and even though we're not therapy central by any means, the purpose of this blog is to hear people out, and answer questions that they want to have answered.

That includes these sorts of asks, but know that we are not obligated to answer them. But we can, and we usually do.

The reason I'm here talking is, as you might have noticed, me and my...well, fiancé, I suppose...get these asks a LOT. People constantly picture in their heads the idea of us being a super freaky couple behind closed doors, and...constantly pry into that.

Do I like it when they do that? No.

Do I think I can stop it? Also no.

And I don't know if I would really want to stop it, since I don't like the idea of not giving the people who follow us what we want...However...

What you have to understand is...just because we exist on different planes than you, we are still living creatures at the end of the day. Even if you don't see us as such. It's fine if you don't, heck, you shouldn't be blending our world with yours but...I need to level with you guys...

When clearing out the box, there were...a lot...of horny, and/or otherwise super sensitive, explicate, perverted asks...SO many...and...I hope you can understand that even though we don't put restrictions on that kind of thing, no one here really wants THAT stuff to be the main content of this blog.

I mean, my friends tease me on my sex life all the time, so there's nothing wrong with what people are doing...

...Mostly...

See, the thing is...there are some asks...I don't know who it is specifically, because of anonymous questioning...who are sending these asks that...are a little over the top.

Stuff like asking me if I can get naked for Hajime or Izuru...Asking Makoto what his favorite sex position is...Stuff like that.

Now, if you are one of the anons, I want to ask you a question. Do you walk up to people that you don't really know too well, and ask them those sorts of questions in real life?

I bet you don't. And if in some cases, you DO? I'm sorry to say this so bluntly, but that's messed up and wrong.

To make matters worse, we have received DM's from some people asking about the ask box being closed, and whether or not their degenerate asks are being answered...and...

People are being...angry? When they hear that we won't answer them? Like, you sent an ask where you asked someone to slap my bare butt, and when we refuse to answer because it doesn't fit with the rules, that upsets you guys.

[lady-megans-blog]

This post is work in progress!!!

It’s time to consolidate all tasks and put them as reference to each post! That’s the plan! Some of you told me and I see others do it too. So first I will just list all tasks, but please be patient, references are coming so you can go to whatever task you want to see or do today. Remember, as long as you are comfortable and safe, you can do a lot even in limited circumstances, like being fully or partially closeted. Enjoy 😊

Task 1

Task 5

Use nighty https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/716775555366862848/task-5

Task 6

Shop with a women https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/716956197002084352/task-6

Task 7

Befriend a women https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/717156582638665728/task-7

Task 8

Walk your heels https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/717309278226186240/task-8

Task 9

Workout in women’s outfit https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/717411661601996800/task-9

Task 10

Blend girly in every day https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/717837673496264704/task-10

Task 11

Wear jewelry https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/718575731171622912/task-11

Task 12

A day at home for her https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/719065508577673216/task-12

Task 13

Start blog https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/719220104170225664/task-13

Task 14

Make friends https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/719654937706004480/task-14

Task 15

Buy girly magazine and read it https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/719851105483423744/task-15

Task 16

Watch a nice movie https://www.tumblr.com/lady-megans-blog/719951285679439872/task-16

Task 17

Full makeover

Task18

Expose a little

Task19

Cage and other accessories: deeper in a rabbit hole

Task 20

Sing

Task 23

Make selfie

Task 24

Find a group in your area

Task 25

Shop in a store

Task 26 Make a small talks to guys you like

Task 27

Edge, goon, no cum

Task 28

Learn some dance moves, twerking, funk

Task 29

Crossdress into men’s, feel the difference!

Task 30

Always be playful and gay when you can

Task 31

Choose your role model

[vrains-rewrite]

Me after watching 13/120 episodes of a show: hm, I think this entire thing needs a rehaul!

and 2 out of 3 are watching the dub? Really? There's no consistency to be found by "nostalgia" alone at this rate considering that.

I want to hope you are trolling people on purpose and this is a social experiment of some kind. Please be trolling

Hi, I am actually currently going through a rewatch of it and taking notes episode by episode. I have advised the other two to watch/rewatch the show for this, though quite frankly, they have their own specific areas of expertise, and don’t really want too much involvement outside of that.

Void is only here to help me write aspects of the worldbuilding that relate to technology, and to help me use the right terminology, because she is studying computer science at college (and. there’s many hackers in the show). Utopia is only here to help me write duels, because she plays yugioh competitively at our local cards store and frankly is the best duellist I’ve ever met. We had intended to explain this today actually in the intros (I was just waiting to speak to Utopia’s about hers before posting it).

I am in control of the majority of the plot and character depiction and arcs, but I want to credit my friends because I could not do this without them. I understand I’ll struggle to do the lore aspects mostly by myself, which is why I said I’d be open to other writers joining, with the permission of my friends.

I am an english & psychology major. Yugioh has been my special interest for much of my life, and, although I’ve used a different name and different blog because I don’t want my prior works to be associated with this, I’ve written fanfiction for this fandom before, with little to no complaints. I am not trolling.

I find it fascinating that you assumed this project to be some sort of social experiment, before the first chapter is even released, before you’ve read any of it. I can only assure you, this is me and my friends having some fun, it may become more than that, but as of right now its just a plan. I’d say ‘don’t like dont read’ but there isn’t even a fic to read yet, you’ve sent anonymous hate over the mere concept of a fic you don’t think you’d like.

- Teal

[ne0nwithazero]

Following #kliegkaard is funny because every now and then Tumblr will show me one of those "popular blogs from this tag" things and yours will be the only one. Like yes Tumblr if I want to see Kliegkaard I can go to the Kliegkaard store

LMAOOO

I had no idea people were following the tag xDD I mostly have it for organization purposes on my blog :3

Me wanting ship content but I'm the only who draws and understands the Themes and nuances... (Mostly because I scare myself out of talking about it sometimes....)

Looking through the tag and it's just me 😔 /lh

[delusionalnerdt]

Hey! I'm about to start my medical college journey & am a little confused about the books to read in the first year. Could you please help me? I looked thru your blog & it seems like at your uni they follow a pattern and timeline similar to the Indian medical system, so I thought I'd pop by & ask you for some advice :)

PS: Love your blog, really inspirational!! 🩵 I'm a ex-French learner myself & your posts really inspire me to restart.

Hey, first of all, congratulations and welcome to the Fraternity!

As for the books:

Anatomy

General anatomy : get the bdc or vishram singh general anatomy pdf or get the book from library once you are in college and give a read to important topics and go through the terminologies. You can read general anatomy now, before you go to college or during your foundation course classes

Gross anatomy : The preferred book by students is BDC but i read vishram singh. It has very easy to remember diagrams and things are given in points, i suppose you will feel easier to understand and remember. May be, you can go to a store and see both books and decide (goes for all the books, I'll write here about my personal experience only)

Embryology : Get a langman from senior or if it is okay, buy it too. It's an international book but quite good. You don't have to go through everything but the important topics. Vishram singh embryology is also nice. I got to know about it just few days before exam but it was nice. And please don't neglect embryology. Your friends and seniors will say that it doesn't matter, it does. I suppose i could have got distinction in anatomy if only i had read embryo properly since in paper 1, i couldn't write one answer at all. (Like distinction is not everything, it's just kind of an achievement that can boost you?)

Histology : we read IB singh and mostly, our class notes.

Osteology : Again, class notes. But i guess, poddar is being followed here. I had the pdf. So, see if your college has good teacher who teaches you well, take notes of the bones and revise them. Well, vishram singh gross books also have bone sections and its quite nice.

Physiology

Guyton is the best book. If it is possible for you, get that book either from a senior or from a store. Seniors will tell you otherwise most of the time unless you are in AIIMS or the top colleges. Don't listen to them. I regret not studying standard books, they are gem. But you have to start from initial days and again, make notes of important topics. For exam purpose, you can read your notes and Sembulingam. Thats a nice book. You can keep a pdf. We used AK jain too. But in case you are reading Guyton, making notes and using Sembu, you don't need it. And get the AK jain practical book.

Biochemistry

The standard books are Lippincott and Harper. They are review books. Other than that we followed Satyanarayan or Vasudevan. Satyanarayan is better for exams i feel. Since its like a note. You can keep one of them as physical book and other as pdf. Keep whatever pdf you get actually. And as you proceed, you will get to know about more study materials like Jambulkar. That's nice note but use that as a revision tool.

In our college, for practical in biochemistry, we real our practical copies only. So, i have no idea what other colleges follow for practical

Do join telegram channels, you will get whatever pdf you need and important topics. I will suggest you to read every topic but make notes or proper annotation of important topics and of course, revision of them.

That's all i can remember now. Its not like you need to buy all the books right now itself. See those books in library or get the pdfs and go through random topics and whatever you feel nice, you can buy it. And as i said, keep all pdfs. Mbbs is not like preparing for neet. There will be topics easier to understand or easier to present in exam in different book than yours. But you cannot buy all books so pdf works. And do feel free to ask whatever doubt you have!

PS : This means a lot, thank you! And you can definitely restart your language lessons too.

[wonwoonlight]

Hi

Not sure how many of you will read this until the end but if you do, know I appreciate you so much.

I have a few things I've been meaning to say and now that I finally have the time to do it, I think might as well do it now before things get too busy again.

Sooo, I think I've mentioned that I've been living in Seoul for a few months now and I will continue to be here until... well, that's still undecided but I'll still be here for quite some times.

Living here has been great, transitioning between going to work everyday to attending school again is also quite the feeling. I genuinely thought with works off my shoulders, I'd have more time to do my hobbies again--which includes writing. But the first few months, I was too busy adapting and exploring; once I'm settled, I was lucky enough to find a part time freelancing job though it kept me busy almost 24/7 because it's the kinda work that doesn't allow me to do anything else. But that means between school, social life, taking care of my mental health, and the freelance job, I don't exactly have time for... anything else.

That said, I've been feeling very demotivated, even more than what I've been saying before. I've said before that I'm considering going on a hiatus, but I think the past few weeks (month?) I've been going on one without even realizing. Being here starts becoming... frustrating? That's not exactly the word but that would do for now. Unfortunately, writing starts becoming a task and I haven't been able to find joy in it like I used to.

It wasn't this bad before. But these days I've also been thinking about taking off some of my works from my page and only leaving some behind for archive purposes. Sometimes seeing my own writing becomes a burden for reasons that I can't exactly comprehend either.

Nothing's decided though! I don't want to say I'm closing this blog and announce that I'm not writing anymore; who knows if it suddenly comes back, right? But I think I just want to keep you updated just in case anyone's wondering, and I kinda want to be honest about how I feel these days and why I've been... inactive. I'm still online! But I mostly just lurk around without saying anything; so if you ever like talking to me, feel free to message me anytime!

Thank you for reading what I've had so far and for looking forward to what I have in store. Again, I'm not announcing anything through this post and I mean it when I say I haven't decided anything so... fingers crossed!

So, yeah. Happy new year and I hope 2023 will be great to all of us in whatever way it would come to be :)

with love,

Khione

[mokutone]

🌿🌱 Mokutone Masterpost 🌱🌿

Hi! Welcome. This post will function sort of as a FAQ and will be updated as such. You don't need to read it, but if you've had these questions, here are my answers:

"Do you take Commissions?"

Not yet! I do, however, have a Ko-fi, where I'll do some little thank-you doodles!

"Do you have a shop?"

No, not at the moment! I am considering it though...

"What materials do you use?"

By far the questions I get asked the most are about this, so this will get very long and I'm going to put it under a readmore. I will address the papers, inks, watercolors, dip pens, brushes, and other materials that I have used.

I also answer questions about my materials under the "my ninja tools and scrolls" tag, and give art technique advice under the "my jutsu" tag. Yes it's silly, but this is a Naruto art blog. this is what we all signed up for.

Mostly, this will be a list of my traditional materials. I will address the paper, pens, inks, and various types of watercolor that I use!

📄 PAPERS: 📄

—Strathmore 400 Series Heavyweight Drawing Pads 100lb/163gsm. (these numbers refer to the weight/thickness of the paper. thicker paper is less likely to buckle) ———> This paper is extremely cheap (a 9"/12" pad is often under 10 dollars), takes inks EXCELLENTLY, but it's a much lighter paper, and it will buckle under watercolor. For this paper, it's good to only paint small sections, to paint very slowly, or to paint with the paper taped down to another surface.

—Fabriano Hot Press (Hot Press means the paper is smooth, not rough) Watercolor Paper, 140lb/300 gsm ———> I use this paper the most because it's fairly cheap to buy in bulk, while still being good enough quality that my picky watercolor teacher approved it, Lol. I can usually find a 9"/12" block of it with 50 pages for about $20 if i look hard enough—and the paper is hardy enough that if I'm careful, I can paint on both front and back of the paper. Bad for archival purposes maybe, but great for having fun and not spending more money. [Example]

—Vision Cold Press (Meaning the paper is rough and textured) Watercolor Paper, 140lb/300 gsm ———> My watercolor teacher said this stuff was garbage, but...I don't really care! It is DIRT CHEAP and YES it buckles a little despite being thick, and YES it feels like cardboard in your hand, and YES it ONLY comes in coldpress, but the texture is grainy and even and nice... and like. when I say dirt cheap I mean dirt cheap. I used to get the 6"/9" 30 page pad for like 6 or 7 bucks. [Example]

—Arches Watercolor Pad/Block, Hot Press, 140lb/300 gsm ———> This is that expensive shit. I got a pad of it for a class back in college, and I dip into it now and again—I also bought a little bit more when there was a sale recently, a 12 page. It's 100% cotton, and it takes pigment based watercolor REALLY well, but it's not so good about dye based (I'll discuss the difference between those later) [Example]

🎨 WATERCOLORS: 🎨

DYE BASED:

Dye based watercolors, because they are based in dyes instead of pigments, are not lightfast. They are not archival. If you expose them to sunlight, they will begin to fade, and some will fade rapidly. That said, if you hoard your art in a dark place once you've documented, go hog wild! The fact that they're all liquid already makes them really easy to use.

—Ecoline Watercolor [Liquid] ———> These are a little watery, but they are cheap and easy, and I used them for the majority of my early watercolor art on this blog!

— Dr. Ph. Martin's Radiant Concentrated Watercolors [Liquid] ———> They are expensive, and sold in small quantities. They are, however very bright, like that label isn't lying! They're super concentrated! I have not actually run out of any of the ones that I bought (at a store closing sale bc otherwise they're too expensive lol) because they only use a small amount at a time

— Dr. Ph. Martin's Synchromatic Transparent Watercolors [Liquid] ———> They are also expensive, and also sold in small quantities. They aren't really made for paper either. They're fine. Probably not worth it though!

PIGMENT BASED:

—Black Sheep Art Supply's Pans And Half Pans! [solid watercolor] ———> These have been very enjoyable for me to work with!! They're very bright, affordably priced, and the paints are from a small business, as well as being handmade and from the first Black-owned art supply store. I've had wonderful experiences ordering from this store, and I wholeheartedly recommend them!

[EDIT: apparently the shop is on a break or something! oh well]

—Dr. Ph. Martin's Hydrus [liquid watercolor] ———> These are liquid watercolors, like the dyes, but they are archival and somewhat light-fast, which means they can be exposed to moderate amounts of sunlight without fading. I haven't gotten to use them much yet, but they seem fine. You do have to shake them a lot to mix the pigment in. They can also be a little difficult to rewet, and may appear somewhat flaky.

—Turner Professional Artists' Watercolors [tube/semi liquid] ———> These are watercolors stored in tubes, you know, the traditional way! I used these for class, back in college. They're cheap, but well pigmented as far as cheap watercolors go. If you're really on a tight budget, this is probably the best pick.

—Holbein Artist' Water Color [tube/semi liquid] ———> My best friend (the one who got me into naruto!) gave these to me! Usually they can be very expensive. They're very high quality, and gorgeous. I'm so enamored with them and touched by the gesture that I use them very rarely, I don't want to lose them! They're special to me!

✒️ INKS: 🖋️

I only use permanent inks which will not bleed (much) when water is applied, due to working in watercolor. This list will reflect that

—Dr. Ph. Martin's Bombay Black India Ink ———> I use this the most frequently. It's a little shiny, but not too bad, and it is completely waterproof once dried. Of the Ph. Martin inks, it's the cheapest by far, and a 1oz bottle (which lasts me months) can be found for about $5. —Dr. Ph. Martin's Black Star (Matte) Ink ———> Very waterproof, does not shine much at all. If you record your art with photography rather than scanning, this may be useful to you! Unfortunately, it's about $10 a bottle. —Dr. Ph. Martin's Black Star (Hi-Carb) Ink ———> Very waterproof, very shiny. I don't use this much because I don't like my ink to shine, but it can be very nice with the right application. Unfortunately, it's also about $10 a bottle.

—Yatsumoto Sumi Ink ———> you can get this stuff cheap. Like, you could get a 12oz bottle of it for like $12. That's very cheap. Unfortunately it's not completely waterproof, and if you agitate (rub the brush vigorously) over the ink, it may seep into the watercolors. If you're careful though, this won't be a huge problem. It's also good for ink-only work.

—Liquitex Acrylic Ink ———> This is also very waterproof, but it also takes longer to dry than the other inks, so I find myself smudging it a lot. It's also about $7 for a 1oz bottle, but about $20 for a 5oz bottle, so if you're committed to the ink, it can be cheap to buy in larger sizes.

—Diamine Registrar's Blue-Black Ink ———> Expensive. Really more of an interesting find than a practical ink for me. This is mostly waterproof, but a very thin ink, and you can feel the nib get scratchier when drawing with it. That's not a bad thing, it's just a textural thing. It's produced in a similar way to medieval inks, with iron and oak-galls, and because of this it has some interesting properties: When first applied to paper, it's a pale or sky blue, but it darkens rapidly as it dries, becoming almost black over time. It runs the rusk of corroding metal pen nibs due to its chemical makeup, and so nibs which use this must be washed extra thoroughly.

✍️ PEN NIB HOLDERS: ✍️

—Speedball Sketching Pen Set: ———> Easiest to get your hands on. Comes with two nib-holders and 6 different nibs to try out, available at most art stores, and usually around $10. It's also not bad quality—I don't use the tiny little nib-holder any more, but I use the standard black one all the time.

—Tachikawa Comic Pen Nib Holder, Model 40/ Model 36 ———> My Favorite. Thank god it has a little rubbery thing around it, because I grip pens hard 😭. It is able to hold standard-size AND small-size nibs. Occasionally, I find that some "standard-size" nibs might not fit, but I've never had this issue with the small size nibs.

Honestly, those are my favorites, but it's really hard to go wrong with pen nib holders. If they fit comfortably in your hand, and they hold a nib, they're good!

🖋 NIBS: ✒️

Nibs are difficult to acquire. They can be expensive too.

— Speedball ———> If you want to get a variety of nibs to experiment, this is my first recommendation. They have a wide variety of nibs to experiment, and find out what your favorites are.

—Tachikawa Pen Nibs ———> They've got less robust options than Speedball, and a little more expensive too, but they're very good nibs! The G-Nib is the standard nib used in comic making, and especially for lettering. It's a very stiff little nib, so it doesn't flex too much. This makes it pretty reliable, and especially good for lettering/writing.

—Manuscript Leonardt Pen Nibs ———> A lot of options for everything from caligraphy to cartography to sketching, also a little expensive—what is notable is that their pen nibs tend to be on the more flexible side, allowing the artist to get a lot of line weight variance. This is bad for lettering, but fun for drawing! They also have pens shaped like hands. Neat.

—Brause Pen Nibs ———> These were always super expensive where I was. I got a few. They come in this dorky plastic case with a sliding top, and I kinda wish they didn't bc that's a whole lotta plastic for something that coulda been stored in cardboard or paper, lol. I now use the cases to hold perfume samples. They're good pens, they're just expensive and the packaging is dumb.

—Whatever the hell is on Etsy. ———> People love to sell vintage things on etsy, and pen nibs are no exception. Often, you can find random samplers of pen nibs, or collections of pen nibs for sale. Sometimes you can find a whole box of one kind of pen nib, often times with a lot of nibs in it. I once bought one of these for like $45 and i don't even regret it because it's got a shitton of nibs and I realllly like using them. It will literally last me the rest of my life.

🖌 Brushes: 🖌

I don't have a lot to say about brushes! Ultimately, if it makes a mark on paper, and you like the mark it makes...I think that's a good brush.

I've been told you should go for ones which hold a shape, I think, and don't spread out in a big puff. Ones which use animal hairs are apparently best, but they are also very expensive. Generally, with watercolors, you will want to use "round" brushes, especially for beginners. If you want to experiment, I recommend Filberts, but there are also sword/dagger brushes if you're painting something like grass. Mostly I use:

—Creative Mark Mimik Kolinsky: ———> As the name implies, these are meant to mimic (synthetically) brushes made from Kolinsky fur. These are nice and I like them. They're cheap, but hold their shape well, and feel good in the hand. —Creative Mark Mimik High Performance Synthetic Squirrel Hair Watercolor Brushes: ———> What a name. I find these to be just as good for me as the Mimik Kolinsky, but a little bit cheaper. As long as ur careful not to treat them too roughly you'll be fine.

—Princeton Watercolor Brushes ———> Good. Expensive, but good. They have a variety of synthetic + natural materials, they are well made, if you have a little money to throw around + want a brush which will preform very well but will not destroy your bank, this is a solid brand. I've used ones from their Velvetouch, Mini-Detailer, and Heritage collections before, and enjoyed them all very much.

Additional Supplies:

—Porcelain Palette ———> I highly recommend using a porcelain palette instead of a plastic palette, both because I like to cut down on plastic when I can, and because the porcelain palettes are just....so much more convenient. The glass-like coating means that they will be easier to clean, whereas all of my plastic palettes over the years have gotten permanent stains. They're a little harder to accidentally knock around because they're heavier, which probably isn't a problem for most people, but I can be kinda clumsy. I can't tell u the number of times I've sent a full plastic circle-palette of watercolors flying lol