#but that might just be because i... generally like horror and that kind of gore

[wekillitwithfire]

i think that more authors and show runners need to stop being afraid of people not finding their main characters attractive (leigh bardugo has this problem imo, especially in her book Hell Bent it's. pretty pervasive.)

[guided-by-stars]

Everyone’s always talking about facades in ISAT. Loop’s facade weaving itself into their true self, Siffrin’s acting breaking down over hundreds of performances, how Isabeau uses masks to cover his insecurities. But not all facades are constructed purposefully and not all are so consciously maintained.

I think a lot of people underestimate Mirabelle. Both in our world, and in theirs. She’s very disarming, isn’t she? Anxious, biting her nails, conciliatory, kind, overly careful with others. The first member of the party, the protagonist, but always letting everyone but herself take the lead, except when dealing the final blow on the King. You’d be forgiven for thinking she’s shy. But she’s not, is she? She was given incredible responsibility by her mentor that could, by all her knowledge, be dead, and instead of crumpling under that pressure, like many might have, she seeks out the Defenders to ask for their help, and even after they deny her, she ventures out, with only one person by her side, unquestionably dedicated to her quest to save Vaugarde.

She’s incredibly brave! And smart too! It’s hard to stand out in that regard, when you’re traveling with a Researcher, head always buried in books, reached the age of 40, almost twice as long on this world as you have been, and a man who grew up the literal stereotype of a nerd, who still knows how to calculate numbers in his head in an instant as if it’s nothing, and this mysterious traveller who has been disarming all these traps for you and finding all these keys and has an incredible number of random skills and survived on his own for how many years? But Mirabelle is clever and perceptive! And the most emotionally intelligent and least repressed out of anyone there. She always notices when Siffrin is feeling awful and attempting to hide it. In Dormont, in Act 3, she asks if he’s okay, and when he says that he is, she straight up pushes back against it and says that she’s pretty sure that he’s lying about being fine. She’s aware that Siffrin has put up a wall, she just doesn’t like overstepping. If she was the type who didn’t care about pushing boundaries, she would have confronted him far before Act 5. And she knows how to do so many things!! She’s taken over a hundred classes. One thing about Mirabelle, is she’s absolutely ravenous to learn. Everything.

Sure, she holds some things back. She’s not open about how much responsibility she feels has been placed on her back, and is nervous about how others will perceive her lack of interest in dating, but overall, she’s far more open about her own feelings than anyone else in the party. When she’s anxious, she says it. When she needs help, she accepts it. Now this. Is crazy.

And then there’s her interest in the schadenfreude of it all. The morbid. Mild mannered Mirabelle loves seeing little guys being put through… the horrors. (Oh Mirabelle…you would love In Stars and Time) She has a collection of gory books in her bedroom, and takes the horror anthology into her pocket when you find it. Part of it is because seeing others in danger makes her aware of how safe she is by comparison, part of it is the catharsis, the emotional relief of seeing the Chase being fulfilled. But I think some of it is just fascination and curiosity. As mentioned earlier, she desires very deeply to Learn Everything. Learning how someone might be torn to bloody pieces by the Beast? Part of that.

Mirabelle is kind, sweet, and cute. Yes. But she is also incredibly capable, clever and perceptive, tremendously brave and courageous, and is fascinated with horror and gore and danger. When Euphrasie blessed her, said that she was the only person who could have done it, she was right. I feel like people in general are prone to flattening out optimistic and positive characters and seeing them as more shallow, while digging deeper into more negative and externally emotionally turbulent ones. Mirabelle is not shallow!!!

And all of that is said without any mention of her fixation on Changing!! I am going to explode!! This post is too long already but maybe I’ll make another one about her unhealthy fixation on always Changing and how that drives almost everything she does, both before and during the same!! It is so core to her psyche! Ahhh fantasy religion!!

[cripplecharacters]

hey this might be a bit weird of a question but is it inherently ableist to have a kink for like, fictional depictions of gore? i ask this because a lot of that kind of stuff involves injuries that would be disabling (amputations, eye trauma, etc), but is that fine if the focus is on the injury itself and not the disablement that results? is there nuance to it? should gore art drawn for some form of gratification avoid depictions of limb loss entirely? thanks and im really sorry if this question is too gross

Hello beautiful asker!

Having any sort of kink is not ableist. Period. Fiction is exactly that, where things can exist and no one is being objectified, unwillingly injured, or otherwise so because it's all fake. Now there is a Nuance though, making art for Kink purposes is different than writing a story and it fetishizing your disabled characters. The latter is what we try to prevent because of the harm it does.

Now say you interact with someone who is disabled in real life, and they have a disability or a intersection of any kind that you usually get any sort of gratification from when in fictional media. If you're getting gratification from this person simply existing, objectifying them, non-consensually, and can only see them as a sexual object, then you are then fetishizing disabled people. Kink is about consent, trust, community, etc. Disabled people have kinks too! Some disabled people have kinks that intersect with their disabilities! The main part is the consent and not objectifying people for simply trying to living.

We have a post talking about sexuality and disability, as well has a whole tag on the #fetishization of disability. We also have a post about Body Horror and its intersectionality with disability. The reason I'm mentioning this is because body horror, kink, Whump, all sort of overlap at some point for some people and when we put disability into the mix there is a similar nuance to it all.

One more thing to mention (which is more Tumblr specific) but I know there are a few issues of the actual Tags (not the general Search function) between the communities, again because of the overlap. I would be weary and talk with your other fellow kinksters about tags for specific kinks that are disability related. Again I know there's an overlap but just trying is better than not trying at all.

In summary: There is ableism, but there is a line and as long as that line of kink to fetishization doesn't pass, you're fine.

~ Mod Virus 🌸

[copperbadge]

Supposedly, people with Anphantasia don't get scared reading scary stories, or at least not much. Is that true with you if you ever read Horror?

You know, I'd never thought about it, but I suppose it is. To an extent, anyway.

Follows a discussion of my relationship to horror prose and media; if you don't know what aphantasia is, as many people coming to this tumblr don't, I have a tag for it here that may help -- it's basically the lack of a "mind's eye", a visual imagination, so I hear/read things and don't see an image of them in my mind. If you are scoffing right now that nobody actually has a mind's eye, congratulations, you may also have aphantasia. The articles linked in the tag will be useful to you.

I have definitely been scared by prose before but it's very rare, and not much since I was a child, when the stories I found scary were preying on fears I already had. I loved the Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark books, and I think it's not unusual that I found the illustrations more frightening than the prose, but the only story that ever scared me was the one about the vampire who kept trying to grab a kid through a window -- because I had a window over my bed in my childhood bedroom and I was terrified I'd look up to see someone looking down at me through it. Likewise, as an adult, the only content in horror I find scary is what I think of as "mind horror" -- the loss of faculty or the loss of awareness of faculty (think the end scene of the novel Hannibal with the brain). Which is one of my biggest fears.

I don't read much horror because generally I get bored, which has in the past made me feel faintly appalled at myself, but which now makes more sense. Certainly I have no interest in slasher-style gore in prose, because I find it uninteresting and it goes on a really long time, while I don't watch it in movies/TV because the visual is upsetting -- so if I was getting the visual from the prose I might react more emotionally. I am a fan of Stephen King but mostly his early work where he was shorter on suspense, and I was reading it because I liked the ideas and the characters. Carrie is super interesting because of the personalities involved, not because of the violence or the horror aspects. But I've never seen a movie adaptation and I can imagine I would be deeply unsettled if not distraught by certain scenes if depicted visually. Although I didn't find the Hannibal TV series super upsetting (I mostly was put off by how bad I imagined Will smelled) so perhaps body horror just doesn't do it for me.

This may also explain my hard-no on zombie media, because I'm not scared at all of zombies, I just find them boring and gross, and that leaves the post-apocalyptic humans. My hard-no on post-apocalypse anything is an aversion to imagining the end of my world, though, which isn't visual, it's conceptual, and not scary, just upsetting.

Like, people kept suggesting Zombies Run! to me when I was taking up running and -- well, one, I needed the music to keep my pace, I didn't want it interrupted. But two, I didn't see why a bunch of random groaning noises would make me run faster. If you could see zombies chasing you in your head, yeah, that'd probably be more motivating.

It kind of explains too why I haven't written much horror. I used to be very curious about how people worked out what's "scary" in horror prose and I guess part of the curiosity came from not experiencing it myself. It's tough to know how to write a scary story when stories don't scare you.

To be clear, I definitely experience fear. Reading Stephen King's "It" didn't really scare me, but there were scary moments in the film adaptations. I startle at jumpscares. There's plenty of stuff in real life that I'm scared of. And even podcasts -- I don't get mental images during podcasts like apparently most people do, but Magnus Archives got me with the "digging into your pre-existing fears" thing once or twice, and while I didn't finish The Left Right Game (I just got bored) the hitchhiker scene definitely got me. But I think, unless it's playing on something conceptual that already existed, yeah, I don't find prose particularly frightening.

Huh. This feels like the kind of thing that could have a significant impact on my creative output if I could crowbar my way into it. Knowing that I as an aphantic don't need descriptions that other people do has already, I think, impacted my editing process, but this feels like it maybe would somehow have an effect on the whole thing -- the fact that I don't experience emotions when reading in the same way other people do because I don't get the visuals is something to meditate on.

How the fuck did I ever even become a writer. Like what's up with that.

(Ironically it was X-Files fanfic. X-Files, a show that very much did scare me, for which I wrote and read a lot of fanfic, none of which did...yikes. Well, that's something to meditate on for the weekend.)

[mistypsych]

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 4

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after writing anything at all. Please also keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty and odd at times but I try my best. As promised slowly we have reached the chapters where Suga will be usually taking the main lead! Sorry it took me a while and this chapter might be a bit rough but work has been hectic. If you enjoy the story please leave a comment. They are very motivating.

Blood pulsed in your temples, feeling it flow mercilessly threw your veins, you threw the brunette a annoyed look. Knowing that there was seemingly no backing out, you sighed, picked up the medical bag and tossed on the banged up table.

“If you want proper care so badly I would recommend investing in some decent furniture at least. Everything here in general screams sepsis guaranteed…” you muttered shaking your head. The whole place was creepy as if someone took it out of a horror movie. Surely not a great environment for any kind of medical procedures. But why did you care? Maybe this was the way to get rid of the viper himself? A infection? Everyone knows those could turn out to be deadly.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts you started to prep. After disinfecting your hands and tossing on some sterile gloves you looked at the man standing next to you, and wordlessly pointed your hand to the wonky table. Your face was written with disgust and discomfort. This was not a way to treat patients and it made your skin crawl. If you were at a war zone it would be a totally different scenario. But you weren’t, were you? And a big shot, bad, gang boss has you work on him here instead in some fancy spot? Unbelievable.

When he laid down on the table, you could see a small grimace show on his face. Of course he made sure it was gone right away. There was no way he would let himself show any weakness. It made the end of your lips curl into a smirk. It never stopped to amaze you how men usually had the need to seem unfazed by pain.

“Lift your back up for me a bit…” you said calmly. When he did as you asked, you rolled up his slightly blood soaked t-shirt, uncovering the source of the red stains. A couple of stitches have came undone. Surely he was not resting much since you sutured his wounds. You weren’t able to contain the annoyed sigh that slipped out of your mouth. Such a nerve wrecking, masterpiece of a job ruined because this asshole had to mess about.

“Well… now you will end up with bigger scars. I can’t stitch it as tightly as before. Surely it got dirtied up in the process of whatever you were doing… so I need to have the sutures looser in case of any infection. It will need to have space to come out. Also looking at the fact that you ripped these… you will be better off with looser ones…” you mumbled unpleased. You prided yourself in swift work and minimal scaring, but of course this individual had to fuck up things up.

“Just make sure it holds. I need to be… mobile… and as much as I enjoy looking at your pretty face, I’d rather not have this sort of meeting anytime soon.” after these words he smiled at you. Clearly he was enjoying getting under your skin. You helplessly clenched your fists to the point your gloves let out a squeaky sound. He had a sort of effect on you and you did not like it one bit. You worked with pain in the ass clientele before, but normally you were able to completely contain yourself.

Agust-D tho… he irritated you on whole new level. He was a smart ass, full of confidence, who clearly knew how to poke people to get a reaction. Letting a breath out threw your nostrils, you braved yourself as much as possible. You could not let him take control over the situation. Turning to your bag, you shook your shoulders a bit. Focus is what you needed. Taking the vial of local anesthesia, you pulled the needed amount into a small syringe.

You looked at his toned stomach. Even with the wounds, it was clear he was in shape. Blinking your eyes, you pulled yourself back into reality. You stabbed the needle into him, a bit harder than you needed to. He let out a quiet groan and shot an icy stare at you. He was well aware, you were purposefully hurting him more than the process required. “Bit rough hands eh?” he seethed threw his teeth.

Sitting yourself down on the rusted stool, you gave him the sweetest of smiles, as you chimed “Feel free to change to a different doctor. Would you like me to get you some recommendations?”. Lifting a brow, he let out a low chuckle while shaking his head slightly in amusement.

“Now. Don’t move.” you ordered him coldly. Pinching hard on his skin, you checked if the injected spots were completely numbed out. Not earning any reaction from his side, you hummed quietly. Truth be told you were a little bit disappointed that the meds worked so quickly, you kind of hoped that pinch would’ve hurt at least a little.

As your skilled fingers were slowly working on each suture, you could feel his stare roam over you. Beads of sweat started to creep down the nape of your neck. His whole persona made you nervous. You could not put a finger on it but something about him felt off. Yes, he gave that criminal vibe, but also there was a weird feeling of calm surrounding him. Some things just did not seem to go together.

You were carefully tying up the last stitch “Last one…” you said quietly, still focusing yourself on the task. “Quite skilled hands you have doc. No wonder you managed to bring me back from the dead that night” his voice was gravely and echoed around the room. It made a shiver crawl up your spine. You shook it off with a shrug of your shoulders. You were not about to let some strange gangster have any sort of control over you. This whole situation and your bodies uncontrolled reactions, were starting to get on your nerves.

Pushing yourself away from the table, you winced at the screeching sound of the chairs legs, rubbing on the concrete floor. It slipped your mind that you weren’t sitting on one of your comfortable stools, that actually had wheels on them and made moving around way easier. “Done…” you took off your gloves and started to collect all the articles and tools you used.

Yoongi lifted himself up slowly and pushed his shirt down. Not turning your head towards him, you stated “Would be wise to change…” your sentence got interrupted by his rustling around. Allowing yourself to peek, you saw his shirtless back. It was pale but carved with subtle muscles. He wasn’t ripped like a gym fanatic but his body seemed naturally slim and toned. “Just like Hoseok…” you commented in your mind and quickly shook your head disapproving your own thoughts. Why would that even pop up in your brain?

“Well we need to manage a check up visit…” his silky voice ripped you out of the whirl of anxiety that was starting to form in you. Furrowing your brows and wiping off your hands with disinfectant, you give him a stern look “Plan on blasting up my stitching again?” he grinned at you while buttoning up his Hawaiian styled shirt. You felt relieved you didn’t have to stare at his bare chest and abs.

“Nah, but usually these things get checked up no? Also I’d rather not remove the sutures myself so…” you glared at him and shot out “Have Kook do it… I am a too busy for this…”. He stared straight at you, tilting his head to the side and running a finger over the table while moving your way. “I thought we discussed this… do we really need to push back to square one?”

There was seemingly no way this guy was giving up. You looked up a bit at the dark, tall ceiling. The big spiderwebs around the corners made the place even more gloomy. A breath loudly came out of your lips. You grabbed and squeezed the bridge of your nose, trying to compose the annoyance that was threatening to creep from within your whole being.

As if reading you, he huffed a bit and ran his fingers threw the thick lock of his hair. “I am being considerate and letting you chose the time. You should know by now, I can simply have someone escort you from the hospital…” you were clearly testing his patience at this point, you could not help but get defensive in this whole fucked up situation. Gritting your teeth and stuffing forcefully things back to the bag, you replied “Wooow how thoughtful of you! How did I get so lucky to run into such a compassionate human being like you?”.

His already black eyes seemed to get even darker, as he stood so closely that he towered over you and said slowly “As much as I enjoy when people are capable of using sarcasm, you are starting to get on my bad side doc…” rolling your eyes you mumbled quietly under your breath “So there is a good one?” and of course it came out louder then intended. A chuckle filled the room “Stick around for longer and you just might find out” he winked with a sheepish smile on his face “But going back to our discussion… check your little calendar and let me know…”

As you were about to make another comment, he grabbed your bag and started walking towards the exit “Come. We should get you back home…” he threw over his shoulder. Your feet helplessly followed behind him. The effect this creep was holding over you, started to freak you the fuck out. Reality of how utterly screwed your life will be in the nearest future hit you like a bag of bricks. What the hell did your friend drag you into? But most importantly what could you do to get out of this?

A slam of a car door, woke you from the badgering thoughts. You had no recollection of how you got outside already. You were really losing focus and spacing out due to all the shit that was thrown your way. To your surprise the raven haired mobster was climbing into a black Hyundai Palisade from the drivers side while telling you to get in.

“You’ve just been stitched back up again and you plan to drive?” you asked, a bit taken aback. He gave you a look that made you finish the discussion and climb in the passenger seat. Your bag was tossed on the back. This whole predicament was getting absurd. Never in a million years would you have thought, you’d find yourself in a car with a mafia boss. Clearly the world was putting you threw some sort of messed up test.

Yoongi drove the car smoothly out of the alley. While on the main street, he opened the window slightly and pulled out a cigarette. Seeing that made your blood boil, so without thinking you ripped it out of his mouth and tossed it passed his face. Your action clearly shocking him. Giving you a side eye he commented “you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”.

Realizing what you did, you bit your lower lip and looked forward. You decided no answer was the best answer. Feeling his eyes on you made your skin prickle, so finally you decided to speak “Eyes on the road! I simply don’t like being locked up in a small space, while someone smokes. You can poison yourself without dragging my lungs in the process…”.

He smiled lightly “Always speaking your mind hm? Quite refreshing. Most people don’t speak much around me”. You arched your brows in a way of asking, if he was trying to insinuate you better shut your mouth. “As I said… it is refreshing. Besides I like ladies that have fire in them” he chimed. “Whatever…” you sighed, deciding to keep quiet the rest of the way.

*** *** *** *** *** ***

Half of a block before your building you asked him to pull over. When he gave you a questioning look, you explained you’d rather your fiancé not see you getting out of some suspicious looking car. Your response made him laugh as he leaned an arm over your seat giving you a mischievous glare “Scared your little Hoseok might think you got yourself some sugar daddy to spoil you?”. Without thinking you grabbed your bag and simply stated “Next Friday I can do your check-up”. Without waiting for his answer, you jumped out of the SUV.

You could feel his gaze before you were able to disappear at the corner. Letting out a breath you had no idea you were keeping in for such a long while, you felt a bit relieved. That was until you got inside your apartment to be ambushed with a “Where the hell were you Y/N?” Hobi was standing in the hallway shooting daggers at you, his slim arms crossed over his chest. You could see he was greatly upset.

You looked at the clock on top of the entrance to the kitchen. Of course it was fucking late. “I asked where were you? Do you know what time it is?! I was worried!” his tone was full of irritation and that was the moment something in you snapped. How dare he stand there and get on your ass while he was the one to be meddling with this forsaken gang himself. Just thinking about his lies made you lose it and get ready for the fight of your life “I WAS WITH YOUR BEST BUDDY AUGUST-D!” as the words hit him, his face dropped but you continued your attack “RING A BELL DON’T IT MR DETECTIVE HUH?!”.

Hoseok’s face turned pale as all the blood flew to his brain. How the fuck did you know? Did you just say that? Did you actually throw Augst-D’s name out there? Did you fucking find out and how? All these questions ambushed him at once, so all he could let out was a quiet and completely confused “What… what did you just say Y/N…?”

@wobblewobble822 @nansasa @nochook @kootieful @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @danielle143 @llallaaa @idkjustlovingbts @darcyw16

[mushroomjar]

Did you think I forgot about it? The Halloween vocaloid playlist is done!! I'll include the links in a reblog so Tumblr doesn't bury the post, there's a YouTube playlist and a Spotify one, the YouTube one being the longer one with nearly 100 songs... yeah, I got carried away lol Reminder for those who have forgotten/not in the know, this playlist starts with cute lighthearted songs about Halloween and monsters, and gets darker in tone and sound the deeper down the playlist you go

I don't want to make the post too long so I'll just include a general content warning for the songs in the playlist, and under the cut I might list all the songs and ramble a bit about what it was like to make the playlist. I hope you enjoy!^^

Content Warnings: flashing lights, bright images, loud sounds and jumpscares, disturbing images and noises, death, body horror, gore, cannibalism, abuse, stalking, potentially paranoia-inducing songs/lyrics

The playlist has been done for days, I've just been procrastinating on actually making the post until now lmao sorry! I had a lot of fun making the playlist and going through the suggestions, it also made me fall in love with some producers I hadn't paid much attention to before (shout out to all of the people who sent in Babuchan suggestions, as you can see I went down a bit of a Babuchan rabbit hole and added tons of his stuff to the playlist, same for machigerita lol)

I'll admit that one of the reasons the playlist kept getting longer was because I'd look at other creepy/scary vocaloid playlists on YouTube for inspiration, and every time I was nearly done I would write down 20 more songs to check out, which is why it took me a whole month to get this playlist done lol. I hope it was worth it! I'm very pleased with how it all turned out

There were also many songs/producers I really liked but decided not to include in the playlist, for example I found DaijoubuP, who I really like, but I didn't think it fit the vibe of the kind of Halloween playlist I wanted to make, so none of his stuff is in the playlist. Same goes for SEIKAI, his songs sound very creepy but I found the lyrics a bit too dark and I wanted to try to keep the playlist a bit more lighthearted. Maybe I'll make a more general vocahorror playlist sometime to highlight all of these producers' work! Who knows

Something else I realized because of this playlist is my standard for creepy vocaloid music might be a bit different than other people's. I got many Maretu suggestions, and I love the guy and completely understand why some of his music was suggested (such as Coin Locker Baby), but it surprised me just how much I'd see him suggested in the notes of my post or in Spotify playlists, he's never really given me the creeps even with his darker lyrics. Not judging! Just an observation I had

You'll notice that I've been using vocaloid as a bit of an umbrella term, since there are a couple of songs that use UTAU and even Synth-V voicebanks^^

I think that's all I have to say for now, so I'll just list all the songs in the playlist and hurry to put the links in a reblog! Thank you so much to everyone who helped with the playlist, all of your suggestions were really appreciated, I would not have as good a playlist if it wasn't for you^^

The song list is mainly because I tried to link back to the original producers whenever possible, and also sometimes the songs were very hard to find, so a lot of the titles are in Japanese, so I figured having the songs and producers written out here would make it a bit easier for you to navigate the playlist^^ Anyway, songs:

Happy Halloween - Junky

SLASH/ER - Circus-P

Ghosts Play To The Audience - PinocchioP

Kikkai Kettai - Meddmia

Zen'yasai no akuma - mayuko

Furaan Furaan Zombie - nem

Fake-Cryer Pumpkin - CycleP

Zen'yasai no kuroneko - mayuko

Halloween Patisserie TrickaTorka - machigerita

Halloweenya - Chinozo

Dream-Eating Monochrome Baku - nem

Creepy Toast - CircusP

Pumpkin March - momocashew

Selfish Princess - fujiwo

Pumpkin Head Spooky Dance - machigerita

Dream Meltic Halloween - machigerita

Giga giga witch - Kurosawa Madoka

Trich, Trach, Trick Parade - sasasaP

Happy Hollow And The God Club - Nanou

Saa, Docchi? - HINATA Haruhana

Propaganda! - Crusher-P

What Gave It Away - R.I.P

Shadow Shadow - Azari

Splatter Party - Camellia

Who? - Azari

Pandemic - YuugouP

Twilight Homicide Song - Kiraboshi Hikaru

Greedy Halloween Candy Nights - machigerita

Gochisou - Xitoo

Spiral-Luvox - Tune Tonic/Switch

Mrs. Pumpkin's Comical Dream - hachi

trick and treat - OSTER Project

Strange Masquerade Halloween - machigerita

Oxidation And Dream Monsters - Ghost

Oz no Kaitai Show - Ankoku DouwaP/Joruzin

Sadistic.Music Factory - cosMo@BouSou-P

Hourglass - HiiragiKirai

Dance With The Dead - Ghost

Alice of Human Sacrifice - Yugami-P

Candy Addict Full Course - machigerita

The Boy Who Went To Hell - SHUDDER

Crazy Clown - Intro-P

Ideal Picture - NanoritaP

Serial Contraption of Malice - Ghost

Twins - Babuchan

Not As It Seems - Creep-P

Amydgala's Rag Doll - Ghost

Hyouhon Shoujo - Kiyozumi

Rotten Girl, Grotesque Romance - machigerita

Grotesque Love Song - shoutarouP

That Woman - shoutarouP

Musunde hiraite rasetsu to mukuro - hachi

Hide And Seek - Ho-ong-i

Tokeru Sakana - Yuzuri_Hal

Greetings From The Bottom Of The Well - machigerita

Color & Electricity - mushiP

Patchwork Toxin - machigerita

Bacterial Contamination - Kanimiso-P

Song for Great Satan - Nanka-P

Taiyou-sama - Abuse/Abuse-Ken

Fear Garden - Chaa

Despair The Burguer Factory - Groy Anderson

The Cyclops - David K.

Tears of Artificial Flowers - Babuchan

Moon Prescription - Babuchan

Rugrats Theory - Crusher-P

Monochrome Ward - Yugami-P

Bone Dead Mansion - Babuchan

50/50 - Risshuu

Dark Woods Circus - machigerita

Wide Knowledge of the Late Madness - machigerita

Tell me you'll love me - Babuchan

After School - Okashi-P

Lavender Town - neku

???????? - SocialPhobiaSynaps

behe-laino_hotza-bihotza - sakizakisaki

In A Rainy Town, Balloons Dance With Devils - hachi

Sand Gum - MOL.

Nodoka na Kyuujitsu - HikkieP

Broken Toy Mania - Babuchan

Red Flower - Babuchan

Cry Baby - Babuchan

Fuzai - MondaijiP

Boku Yaranai, Kimi Itooshi - nicol

Ant Observation - Healing-P

A 13-Year Old Killer - Sunazame

0 People's Waltz - Babuchan

Varicella - Babuchan

Kagome Kagome - Zawazawa-P

potatoman - MondaijiP

Okaasan - machigerita

VOCALOID UTOPIA - dennoko-P

Hyperpnea - Hikkie-P

Crushed Mary - Mondaiji-P

Nakazu to mo Rokkaku Wrench da Hototsugi - MondaijiP

Complex - Watashi no koko

[toskarin]

So, I don't mean this in a rude way, but I genuinely don't understand the appeal of Fear & Hunger outside the fetishistic angle, and I was hoping you might be able to tell me what you like about it. Everything I've heard and seen about it seems to not be particularly scary, but rather just a sequence of gore and sexual assault related scenes that everyone assumes make a horror franchise because Bad Things are happening.

Oh? You killed someone? Well, congratulations, pal, you learned the masturbation skill! You lost a fight? Whoops, looks like that genie is going to fist your anus until you die! You're fighting a guy who tried to sexually assault your character? Now he turned into a horrible penis monster and is telling you to choke on his balls!

I know those examples are all from the sequel, but my impression is that the first one is very much like that as well. I'm totally willing to believe that I'm wrong, but from the outside, it genuinely looks like the fandom is a bunch of people insisting to each other that this is Actually Very Deep, when it's ultimately just weird porn that's honestly kind of sophomoric in its delivery. Again, I'm willing to believe there's something there, but I haven't been able to find it in anything I've seen of the franchise so far.

And to be clear, I'm not coming at this from the angle of someone criticizing people for being into weird porn, and I'm by no means unfamiliar with or against the concept of sexual horror. If people are into games where the penalty for losing is their character getting fucked to death, more power to those people. I guess what I'm saying is that it just feels like at least a portion of the fan base isn't being honest about what they get out of it. Like, if someone is really into the considerable amount of horny stuff in Fear and Hunger, that's fine, but own it.

I guess I'm ultimately hoping for either some clarification as to why I'm getting the wrong impression, or, like, confirmation that a lot of the appeal is the sexual stuff.

ramble below the break

so, before anything else, it should definitely be clarified: even through the lens of ryona and eroguro, Fear and Hunger isn't actually very much of a fetish game. it's got lots of gratuitous violence, a lot of which is sexual, but the actual content of the game is more like a splatter film than a guro doujin

it's a very silly qualification to pull, but I've got more than a passing familiarity with the other side of things and don't really think the game has that going on (I tried the game because I thought that's what it was lol)

a lot of it comes down to the fact that not only are those scenes unpleasant, but you also know they're paired with material consequences. kind of like how playing survival games in hardcore mode gives them an otherwise absent tension. you've gotta make hard choices, and sometimes those choices make you miserable

most players don't want to see those scenes, which is why it ends up being an effective (albeit absolutely not tasteful, no argument there) horror element. it has to be taken along with the restrictive saves, the harsh atonal music, and the fact that everything you run into in these games looks disgusting

the end result is a game where you have a number of saves that most generously can be counted on one hand with room to spare and spend your time running around a world where nearly everything wants to kill you, do something horrible to you, or some baroque combination of the two

Fear and Hunger's horror works because, unlike a lot of splatter horror, it forces the player to be in a prey mindset just as much as the protagonists are. it's really scary when you're rationing your saves, think you're almost in the clear, and then the game asks you to call a coinflip

if Fear and Hunger were presented in any other medium, I wouldn't think it makes for good horror. it's extremely silly to read about and is frankly either "Berserk with the labels sanded off" or "Majora's Mask but fucked up" depending on the game. the user-hostility of the mechanics turns those incoherent masses of scares into paranoid nightmare simulators

the abstract dread of "this character is about to have their arms twisted behind their back and their organs pulled out of them" becomes very tangible when the player is actively trying to avoid a consequence. the tasteless sexual horror lands in large part because it's using the mechanics to force you to take the threat seriously

when you've got an infection on your arm and know that you could theoretically treat it but that it also might kill you in the time you're trying to find the medicine, you feel like a hunted animal asking yourself "maybe I should just saw it off"

or at least that's my read!

[haley-harrison]

Eric Kripke is the Alfred Hitchcock of our generation. In this essay I will outline the main types of horror they use, offer examples, and elaborate the genius of the said tropes.

It will come as no surprise to anyone familiar with the man's work, that Kripke loves his ✨gore✨. Now that he's no longer restrained by CW's PG rating, he gets to go full-throttle with it in The Boys. That isn't to say that Supernatural didn't get it's fair share though - I mean, just remember the "Skin" episode in season one - that scene where the skinwalker changes his skin is pure body horror. Masterful.

Okay, Haley, so what? Some of us aren't squeamish. What's the brilliant part?

Good point, my med/bio orientated reader. That gets me to the second type of horror (and my personal kryptonite): psychological horror.

Here we get to lovecraftian themes. And I don't exactly mean Cthulhu. See, lovecraftian monsters are incomprehensible to the human mind, which generates horror through the unease of being unable to understand. Similarly, certain characters that the majority of the audience cannot identify with, can be used to the same end. Lemme illustrate this with two examples: Homelander and The Deep.

I reckon it's safe to assume most people aren't sadistic psychopaths, nor zoophiles with a penchant for sea creatures. Therefore the extreme Otherness of these two makes people uneasy, disturbing on a fundamental level. Hitchcock refined that particular horror trope by sprinkling his movies with taboo-topics of his own time, such as implied homosexuality. (*gasp* 🏳️‍🌈😆)

And here we get to the now well-known horror rule: the unseen monster is the scariest monster. More broadly, what is only implied can be more impactful than having the exact scenario shown on screen. The unsaid leaves more to the imagination (which is the most powerful tool for horror), and creates and additional dread with the element of unknown. People are unsettled by what else there might be, when elipses replace a clear answer.

Now back to Kripke, and how CW's censorship actually worked in his favor in Supernatural.

Maybe you saw this coming, but the monsters aren't the lovecraftian element. (Really, with the exception of tulpas and wendigos, none of them were even remotely scary). As I said above, Homelander and The Deep are lovecraftian because they're freaks. Unsympathetic freaks, but imagine if we took that first part away...

I shan't say it.

Just. Something something, american gothic, shit's implied and that's the point.

Haley, is this an elaborate ploy to talk about shipping? Really?

No. This is about environmental storytelling, gritty noir filter, camera angles, and just how much is left unsaid. This is about trauma, and repression, and the emotional reaction of the audience when they're left to ruminate a bit on the kind of lives the Winchesters had. It's about the missing scenes, the psychology, the implications - just -

*deep breath*

Another brilliant thing is how Kripke plays around with bathos - causing contrasting feelings in quick succession to give the audience emotional whiplash. The quips sprinkled in between the violence. The unexpected gag right before a gut-punch. It accentuates the experience for the audience. Like the way Dean's relationship with food is often played for laughs, but when you mull it over it's not hard to figure out the underlying food scarcity while growing up.

And furthermore, where did the money come from when times were tough? A myriad of angst-fics went ahead to answer that, which just proves an implication is far superior to exposition.

Then there's Hell. We don't get more than a few seconds of flashes, but think about it. Wouldn't Hell use every torture method imaginable? And what's the most psychologically damaging thing you can do to a person, especially a man?

I think you know the answer.

And that realization is the dawning psychological horror.

Finally, I'll leave you with this:

Just... Kripke!!!

I'm biting stuff!

[random-autie-fangirl]

👻 A headcanon about what scares Chara

(here comes another one)

A lot of normal fears don't scare Chara. Death, physical pain, gore, horror…they actively wish for death, they have such a high tolerance for pain that it's kinda funny(I genuinely believe that Chara once cut their hand clean through while chopping vegetables, didn't notice, and just kept cutting while their family looked on in horror), and can stay completely stone faced during horror movies while Asriel cries into their shoulder (Asriel does like horror movies, but is also terrified of them, Noelle behaviour). And we absolutely know of their lackadaisical attitude towards violence, don't we? ("Chara laughed it off, If you're cuter monsters won't hit you as hard, you just remembered something funny, you tell a joke about a child who slept in the soil, if you laid here you might never get up)

But what are they scared of… rejection, embarrasment, criticism, failure… they're scared of humans of course, this horrible ever present threat who could destroy their kingdom at any moment, and of anything happening to Asriel, they tend to assume that all the general public is out to get them and Asriel, to steal their wealth and status (I mean, who wouldn't be jealous of the dreemurr siblings, huh? Chara and Asriel are the most perfect people in existence and they do everything right, who wouldn't want what they have)

…and the other side of believing you can do anything (because they're the angel and the future of humans and monsters), is…if anything in the kingdom goes wrong, it will be Chara's fault, because they always could have stopped it (they are mentally ill), also for the longest time, they could not believe in Toriel and Asgore's kindness far after they learned to hesitantly trust Asriel… (And yet they stay anyway, they're prepared for anything, and isn't Chara also…lying? in the end)

And they're scared of anyone figuring out they don't care, that they can't trust, that they don't feel the "proper emotions" for people, that they're not kind to others for other people's sakes but so that people will like them, see them as a good person and as a hero… They're hiding everything they feel they are and are terrified of people finding out the truth.

Quite ironically, they're also genuinely scared of well, living...at the end of the pacifist route where they can suddenly see their future stretching before them with no end soon in sight, that terrifies them more than anything. They were supposed to give up their life in a heroic sacrifice, they weren't supposed to live that long, they weren't supposed to live past the happy ending, and they don't want to...why are they still here now that the war is over, now that there's no longer any part for them to play? Angels don't...live full lives on earth, do they?

(On the surface, this was more of a fact than a wish, they would sacrifice themselves for the good of humanity (how ironic that would end up being?), they would never live to be an adult, and then their pain would be over, it would be worth it, because they would finally have done something good and they'd be remembered well)

(There's also a meta reason for this, of course, all the characters in a video game get to live their lives once a happy ending is achieved...but the narrator, the hint system, the numbers on screen, they don't get that do they?, they're not proper characters after all, after the game ends, the narrator just ceases to exist, simple, of course it would be natural for Chara to assume the same and feel distressed when that doesn't occur.)

[sanguinaryfreaks]

WELCOME !¡

[pt: welcome. end pt]

I interact from here for @sangylittlespace, @sanguinarywriter and @sanguinaryclaws

Hi! We are Sanguinary Freaks Massacre you can call us Gore or Visceral, we use any pronouns (and neos) but always ask. Our collective gender is transmascfem and sexuality is omnigay, quoiromantic and ambi, the body is latino. We are 21 years old and are a C-DID system of a lot.

System terms: System, collective, pwDID, multiple, alters, headmates, littles.

DO NOT INTERACT

[pt: do not interact. end pt]

Basic DNI criteria (homophobic, transphobic, racist, etc)

Transmeds, radqueers, etc, etc

SH, ED or gore blogs

Pro endos, tulpas, endos or any kind of non traumagenic system and their supporters

Pro/comshippers and shipcourse in general

Sexualize age or pet regression

Anti-xenogenders, anti-neopronouns, anti-therian, anti-otherkin

Anti-recovery IRLs or DAs, we won't feed into your delusions (sincerely a delusional system)

TransID, or supports TransID, TransRAMCOA, etc.

Syscourse blogs

Belive in cluster b abuse or any disordered abuse

Pro-contact / anti-recovery paraphilias

Believe in "doubles"

Anti good faith identities / "contradictory" labels, including mspec lesbians / gays (neutrals or without opinion are okay)

Believe that transfem alters can't be in an AFAB body or transmascs can't in an AMAB body.

Empty accounts

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW

[pt: before you follow. end pt]

We don't mind minors following us and interacting with us outside of dms

We have our own complex opinions on endos (syscourse neutral), depending on the alter and the day we might accept endo neutrals to follow and interact but don't bring endos/pro endos to our account please

Know that if we follow you is because we want to be friends so feel free to DM us (we are too scared to dm first dnjakckwkd) !!!

We have alters from problematic sources, if you don't like this go away

We like problematic media but we don't support their creators or the media itself (like buying the games or watching the show on the legal sites). If you're gonna be morality police and tell us that we are still supporting them by just liking the media (we cant control a hyperfixation), feel free to block us, we don't care

Please don't try to start fights with us, we will just block you and ignore whatever you sent us, this is our safe space, please respect that

We won't post anything nsfw, we will probably post this type of jokes but trigger warn them

Don't try to force us to change our name or source separate, we aren't doing it for a reason. We also use names respectfully and would never disrespect the culture.

Sometimes we reblog stuff about the yandere stereotypy, we have bpd and we use the term for ourselves

We call ourselves freaks (because we can and we want), if you don't like this fuck off, we don't care

Interests and more

[pt: interests and more. end pt]

Special interests: Psychology, system terms, xenogenders, Simply Plural, art in general, horror in general, etc.

Collective interests: Honkai Star Rail, Wuthering Waves, Death Mark, Danganronpa, CoTL, Red Dead Redemption 2, My Little Pony, Fear and Hunger.

Tagging system

[pt: tagging system. end pt]

#sanguinary vent — me crying and hating my life, if you don't want to see it block the tag

Extra:

[pt: extra. end pt]

Credits:

DNI banner: @/seraphim-coinz

Other blogs:

System terms coining blog - @cdd-system-terms

System help sideblog - @cdd-system-help

Alterhuman archives sideblog - @true-alter-human

Funnier with BPD sideblog - @funnier-with-bpd

Personal alterhuman sideblog - @sanguinaryclaws

Hoard sideblog - @sanguinaryhoard

Regression sideblog - @sangylittlespace

Writing sideblog - @sanguinarywriter

Witchy blog - @sanguinarywitch

Jane's sideblog - @sanguinaryjane

Sparkle's sideblog - @sanguinarysparkle

Robin's sideblog - @sanguinaryrobin

[gendervapor14]

treating myself to some old OP episodes to alleviate the horrors and i can’t resist the urge to ramble about bell-mère’s death a little bit.

so, i will start here, with this iconic moment:

manga readers may notice something right off the bat. “hey, arlong’s not aiming for her head!” yes, in the anime, seems they switched his aim for the heart. i actually prefer this. first of all, that flintlock is huge compared to her, so head or heart, it’s gonna kill her. not a fatality issue. i’m just a huge sap, and i think there’s something more symbolic about him shooting her in the heart for defending her love - her kids. (even tho all of this could have been avoided if she just lied, and then she’d actually be able to keep loving and supporting her kids, but, uh, i digress)

this moment really captured me when i was first watching, because for the first time, one piece truly felt dark. this wasn’t just an upsetting backstory. it had some element of gore here, which i’m not sure would be as effective if he went through with a headshot. they might have censored it a bit more.

more (slightly gruesome) photos and analysis beneath the cut 👀

look at what they got away with here!! this was early one piece mind you, so i feel like things were generally a little cushier? (or maybe that’s just my nostalgia talking XD) but the harsh black and white contrast, the utter silence during this scene, the speed in which this happened! (it was a pain to pause and scrub and get good screenshots, let me add). i will say i’m not up to date with current OP shenanigans, but to me, this seems like one of the most abrupt and brutal deaths in the series. (and this doesn’t even put into account the horrid beating she got beforehand)

there are some nice parallels here between her death and rosinante’s, (most notably her last words being “i love you” to nami and nojiko, and a flintlock as the weapon of choice), but even then, i think this is a bit nastier. seven little bullets in a 10ft tall man is painful, yes, but it wasn’t gruesome, and he managed to cling onto life for a little while afterwards. this was just. bang. done. heart – gone. leaves the viewer totally reeling.

in a way i feel like it’s almost an honor for bell-mère to get such a violent death? okay hear me out i know that sounds crazy. she sacrificed herself for her kids and went out kicking and screaming (or standing solemnly, towards the end). she brought forth such a refreshing take on women in one piece. i mean, let’s not forget this scene:

she was gonna blow his brains out!! zero hesitation!! how many characters in this series, let alone women, would go through something like this? i get that different characters have different honor codes and such, but it was sooo incredibly invigorating to see a woman get her hands dirty like this.

so by that logic, it’s kind of weirdly nice to see her not be treated like a little doll? this is highly speculative though, because i’ve noticed there’s this rather annoying trend where women are used as a moral compass for villains. “oh, look how deplorable arlong is, he did that to a young pretty woman!” we see the same thing with doflamingo, for instance, in his “fight” with viola. “oh how heinous, he threw her to the ground! how disrespectful! she’s just an innocent princess!” yeah, ugh. getting off tangent here

this whole scene set a standard for me, (and hopefully other viewers), who kind of saw the series as a fun lighthearted pirate adventure. yes, there was tragedy and sadness before this arc, before this backstory, but something about this moment in particular made my perception tremble. the bar was raised! a compelling character and backstory can have a truly harrowing ending!! a delightful revelation for me, for whatever reason XD

feel free to chime in if ya got any additional comments or takes on the matter. i don’t think bell-mère gets enough love. if you do wanna chime in, just um. be nice. i’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, okay. and multiple interpretations of these scenes are valid! i’d love to hear ‘em! <3

[arcticgraverobber]

I just finished: My Friendly Neighbourhood!

I think many people groaned when they first saw My Friendly Neighbourhood - another kid horror game, put out for youtube channels to churn out video after video about: yet I try to be hopeful with these games - I even tried Garten of Banban (don't) - and with my love of puppets I was particularly hopeful about MFN, and it delivered on my expectations.

MFN has a child centric overlay, yes, but it doesn't have much in common with the likes of Five Night's at Freddie's or Bendy and Ink Machine at all. I'm not sure the game appeals to younger children all that much due to the lack of more overt horror elements, it seems too age appropriate: there's no gore, no dark mysteries for theory channels exploit - it wears it's themes on it's sleeve. MFN opts for a subtler creepiness, though even then the game is fairly light throughout. I think the younger audiences for these games are generally drawn to them not because of the elements taken from children's entertainment, but because they seem more adult while still wearing an approachable skin, and MFN neighbourhood wholly rejects that veneer of maturity.

As I said the game is not all that explicit, so don't expect to be going down blood soaked corridors or finding dismembered corpses - but the puppets, they never stop talking. The noise never stops. They are absolutely incessant, never stopping their monologues even when they've been taped up, talking over each other even when they are right next to each other. They only stop when they see you, delightedly greeting you and asking for hugs - which is how they kill you? I won't lie, I was confused when I first died, 'how on earth does that kill me?', but, I suppose I am supposed to being playing as an older man, so being knocked over a few times might be enough - and of course this game won't be showing a grizzly death.

The game play is a veritable love letter to Resident Evil and survival horror in general, taking elements from across the franchise: most resembling RE7 with it's first person perspective and the layout of the buildings, as well the fact that looking at your inventory doesn't pause the game when your in it, forcing you to always be vigilant - but the inventory also resembles the popular briefcase system from RE4, and they even have their own version of the Mercenaries thrown in. The puzzles are all very classic resident evil, and taping the puppets up is reminiscent of burning corpses or boarding up windows in the early games.

So: Resident evil with puppets? The only thing missing for me is some good FMV, so of course this was going to be a hit for me no matter what - but even in terms of Resident Evil clones, this is likely the best I've played so far, and probably also the most approachable. All of the elements taken are used effectively, not simply thrown in just because Resident Evil did it, and unlike many similar games including the ones it's aping, it takes every step to avoid the player becoming frustrated. It's map, similar to the those in the more recent Resident Evil entries, highlights which rooms still have things left to do in them, and when the game asks you to backtrack to gather things it actually marks them on the map for you! I had an actual gasp when I saw that, with how out of character it is for this genre as a whole.

Whilst earlier I said My Friendly Neighbourhood wears it's themes on it's sleeve, that's not to say it's shallow, I can certainly find a lot of meaning in it, although many may consider it to be reading a little to deeply. The show is of course focused around a 'sesame street' type show, and focuses a lot on where this kind of art finds it's place - whether it may even be considered art. Whether art can be good and wholly kind, without being vapid and meaningless. This is contrasted in the background by a nonspecific 'war' which seem to be blamed by some of the puppets for why the show got cancelled, with the idea that before this war everyone was kinder and less cynical, and because of it they are no longer receptive to the messages of the show. I think this could be easily read as a some sort of prelapsarian fantasy, but I think that'd be unfair. The game does present the neighbour's wholly kind view in a positive light, largely, though not without pointing out criticisms of that out look. One of the notes in the game - which I will point out I was always worth reading, unlike with certain other games - details the issues with teaching a child to always be selfless, helping others with anything. This easily allows a child to be exploited, and encourages them to not care about themselves at all.

As well, being 'wholesome' is often a shield hidden behind by people wanting to spread their propaganda without critique. Is it even possible for art, created by a human with flaws and emotions, to be completely 'wholesome'. I would say not - My Friendly Neighbourhood serves to make that point, though putting out a positive front there are always darker things lying in the background, and the lessons of friendship the game imparts would be meaningless without them. Throughout the game you'll have opportunities for your character to console some of the puppet characters, often through sharing similar stories of hardships. Only through misery are these characters brought together, and without it such scenes would feel hollow.

At the same time, the veneer of darkness is often used to make media seem more adult and serious, similar to many of what might be called it's ilk in the 'kid horror' genre. Sort of parodying this, near the end it's explained that the reason that the puppets are so odd and aggressive is because they exposed themselves to other media, wanting to become more like other TV shows that were more successful than them. The most affected of these puppets reisde in the aptly named 'unfriendly neighbourhood', and look more like what you would expect monsters in your standard kid horror game to look like - all dark and edgy.

I think perhaps I may have said a little too much about a game that is primarily a silly game where you shoot puppets - but at the same time I think it's silly to dismiss a game - or any art - like that just because it parts of it are less serious. And while that is the main message I got from playing My Friendly Neighbourhood - don't let it stop you from playing it if you just want a fun silly time with puppets, that's there for you too.

Significance: 2/3

Grade: A

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 6: Revelation

Previous Chapter: Chapter 5 - Via Domus

Summary: More secrets are revealed to you as your reunion with Eddie comes to a close, and in their wake, a covenant is made between the two of you.

Word Count: 18.2k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Gore, Body Horror, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Monsterfucking, Slight Pain/Discomfort/Injury due to Monsterfucking (short lived), Unprotected PinV Sex (he's undead it doesn't matter), Oral Sex (M Receiving), Bloodletting, Defiling of Religious Grounds/Paraphernalia, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Note: On March 27th 1986, Eddie Munson was left to his fate in the Upside Down and a year ago today I began this journey with Hell, the story of how he was left to his fate under Vecna's control. Now here we are, finally able to "see" what he became. The man turned monster finally revealed in his entirety. And all the...trouble that entails for him and his love, the Knight. Thank you to everyone who has read this series so far, who has listened to me rant and rave, who has stuck with me for this long. I love and cherish you. This one--hell, the whole story actually--is for you.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”  - Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

November 6, 1983 October 15, 1987

It was dark and, although it wasn’t a place you would choose to rest, there you lay.

It was a welcome rest. All rest was welcome when you hadn’t had any for an eternity.

Countless days and nights you’d spent trying so hard to save him. Save yourself. Where did it get you?

Back into the darkness once again.

Fate was cruel.

And you were lost.

“Sweetheart?”

You could hear his voice faintly, and tears involuntarily escaped the corners of your eyes; he never called you sweetheart anymore.

"Angel, come on," he cooed softly, closer now, and closer still the longer it took. "Time to make the donuts, open your eyes for me. Please."

You took a rattling breath and you trembled all the while, as the fear that your mind, or maybe even this place, might be playing tricks on you became overwhelming.

Hands grabbed for you reverently--hands, not claws--and pulled you over and up, til you were sitting, and then a solid form slid behind you. The gentle soul let you rest back against them, and then caressed you.

You whimpered as those hands and fingers paid special attention to the most wounded parts of you, as they willed some kind of healing, and made you whole again.

You felt it slowly fill you. The light. So soft and pure.

It was something that you'd long since resigned to losing someday, your light, but here it was again. Not yours but made to be yours, because he was yours. Just like you were his. The light, given freely, returned all of the pieces of you that were missing, bit by bit.

The piece that had vanished from your sternum, the gaping hole that was taken from your side, the jagged incisions at every joint. They were filled and sealed and suddenly you were like new again.

Your eyes shot open, and you released a startled gasp as your lungs were allowed a full breath for the first time in ages.

And just like an infant experiencing the overwhelming majesty of the world for the first time, you sobbed.

"Shhhh," Eddie whispered into your ear. His nose and lips gently brushed the shell of it, and he left a kiss there when you finally relaxed against him. "I've got you. It's alright, it's gonna be ok. I’m here. I've got you."

November 6, 1983

“…and there’s this ice cream cake called Viennetta.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It is! It’s…vanilla and chocolate and the ice cream does this swirl thing.” You waved your hands for dramatic effect. “It’s delicious. Nonna got to try it before she passed. Said it was better than tiramisu.”

“Fuck, I miss ice cream.” Eddie groaned and tilted his head back.

It wasn’t said in a bitter way, more for dramatic effect.

You'd been shut away in the secret little house in the Upside Down for a few days now; making love, talking, and eating the little snacks that Wayne had brought Eddie previously. When he’d gone to bring you more sustenance from the kitchen after that first night of sex and reconnection, you’d asked him if he could eat normal food. He explained that he had never thought to try. All he craved was blood. But it was the idea of food that he missed more than anything. The variety. The choice.

You'd squirrel that thought away for later.

For now, the two of you lavished in the comfort of each other and you regaled Eddie with the less-adventurous aspects of your life--and he his--that you'd both missed out on.

Topics jumped back and forth between lazy kisses and frantic fucking, sometimes even right in between, interrupting your most intimate moments. It felt reminiscent of those early days together, where you couldn't get enough of each other and couldn't get enough of talking to one another.

Especially when it came to the things in life that passed him by while he was stuck in this infernal dimension.

People and events.

"This...nuclear reactor almost exploded."

"What the fuck? Like Ten Mile Island?"

"Worse."

"How much worse?"

"Like the Vatican almost wanted to send the Knights in to investigate."

"Damn."

Food and music.

"Van Halen is back together."

"Oh shit, they are?"

"Yeah."

"Soon as I'm out of here, I'm challenging Eddie Van Halen to a guitar duel."

"They have a new lead singer though. I think you'd hate them less now to be honest."

"Fuck David Lee Roth. Remember when I got you to admit you had a crush on him?"

"I was coerced. It was said under duress."

"If I had your phone number when I found out that they had broken up, I would have called you and laughed right in your fucking face, sweetheart."

Television and movies.

"There's a new James Bond movie coming out," you broke a heated kiss and pushed yourself to sit upright on Eddie's hips, groaning at the change in angle as you sunk further down onto his cock. He stretched his neck and then grabbed at your hands to kiss your knuckles as you took the lead in both the pace and the conversation. "And a new James Bond."

"No more...what's-his-face?" he asked, panting. "Roger Moore."

"No, Timothy Dalton," you said, looking at his face expectantly for some type of reaction. You rolled your hips into his roughly, almost as punishment, when you got no response other than pleasure. "You remember, the guy from Flash Gordon? You made me watch that movie a hundred times. Prince Barin? What about Jane Eyre?"

He stilled beneath you, brow furrowed in concentration.

"You made me watch that one a hundred times."

"No, there were just a hundred episodes. Remember I said you would make a good Rochester? And you said it was because you were..."

Eddie grabbed your hips and canted up into you, a feral grin on his lips now, fangs glinting in the low light.

"Because I'm handsome and mysterious," he recalled. "And a desirable bachelor."

"And I said no," you collapsed back against him again, lips brushing against his. "It was because your name is Edward."

You reconnected for a bruising kiss before he got the upper hand once again and got you beneath him.

It didn't matter what or when, every moment and every word was of the utmost importance; the actions that they were preceded or punctuated by simply added to the depth of your reunion.

In those private little moments, between silly banter and declarations of your devotion to one another, you promised never to be apart again.

"Once we get you out of here," you said, words hushed against his cold skin. "We can go to concerts and see movies, drive anywhere you want. Get the hell out of Hawkins and never look back."

"Once I get out of here," he parroted as he broke away from his intense feeding. "We'll go everywhere and do everything. Start a new band together or just find a place with a nice couch to sit and never leave. I never want to let you go."

"All I want," you and Eddie echoed to one another over and over, "is to be with you forever."

It took three days before the two of you emerged from the peaceful solitude of Eddie's childhood home.

The watch on your wrist beeped at some supposed midnight every night signaling the end of another day, and Wayne's visit was soon upon you. You figured, instead of just asking for Wayne to fetch your bag, you'd just return to Hawkins with him and get it yourself. Maybe some books you'd abandoned in the trunk of your car too.

Then you could really get to work remedying this whole situation, and getting Eddie home.

Eddie was loath to let you go, though; he watched as you got dressed in your ripped and stained clothes, arms crossed behind his head comfortably while enticing temptations leached from his lips.

"I can just go," he offered. "Wayne'll have fresh food for you and then you don't need to leave until three days after that. How does that sound? Stay with me just a little longer."

"Eddie," you groaned. "I've already been gone long enough. As nice as that sounds, I'm sure your friends--hell, my friend--is wondering where I've disappeared to. They've found my car by now too."

"I can send Chrissy or Fred to tell them you're ok."

"That'll go over well," you rolled your eyes.

You shrugged your jacket on and in a blink, he was standing before you, still naked, eyes wide.

"Jesus," you jumped, startled.

"Guess again," he teased tensely.

"You're...fast," you squinted your eyes at him, motioning between him and the mattress.

"I have a few tricks that I take advantage of when I'm in the mood for them. Some things Vecna showed me; y'ain't seen nothing yet sweetheart."

You hummed a noncommittal response and just stared at him, let your eyes rove over his form once again, taking in as much detail as you could before you left him.

"Pretty sure I'm seeing a lot of you, actually," you told him, voice laden with appreciation for the sight before you.

You reached out and ran a finger over one of the seams along his skin, around his wrist; so much time over the past few days had been spent reacquainting yourselves, and you wondered if you spontaneously lost your sight, would you recognize him by touch alone?

So much time had been spent with the phantom presence of him around over the years, though, that it really didn't matter either way; your soul would sing simply by having him nearby.

"Alright," you sighed lamentingly. "Put some clothes on Romeo. Time for me to go back to Verona."

Another blink and he was on you. His hands cupped your face, fingers splayed across your cheeks and jaw, edging the exposed bite wounds.

"Promise me," he muttered and leaned closer so your noses brushed and breaths mingled. "Promise me you'll be back."

"I promise," you agreed.

"Tomorrow."

"Yes."

"When the watch beeps at midnight again, I need you back here," he pleaded. He pressed the lightest kiss to your lips. "Please don't leave me here."

"I won't," you said with finality, as you looked into his eyes with the fire of promise and determination. "Nothing could keep me away."

Satisfied, he moved in a blur, and then stood before you again, fully dressed in a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He shrugged his jacket back on and then gestured for you to take the lead.

The walk back into the Upside Down's version of Hawkins seemed quicker this time. Probably because the two of you actually talked, a continuation of the conversations you'd started over the past few days.

Eddie was more eager to show you the sights around Hawkins again, less fond memories and more "could have beens" that turned into "will be one days."

"Some days."

It filled you with hope.

You were also much more comfortable with the creatures that roamed around. The bats overhead and a herd of demogorgons that ran alongside you at one point; they largely ignored you and so you ignored them too.

A curious little demodog approached you though; well, it approached Eddie, jumping and whining to get his attention. He let go of your hand and knelt down to give it a few pets, and then even took your hand so it could sniff and receive a pet from you on its slimy head, which it eagerly accepted. The creature was much friendlier than the demodogs you'd encountered previously, and you wondered if it was Eddie's influence that affected it, much like Dustin and his pal Dart.

You weren't nearly as hesitant as you had been with the bats; you trusted Eddie, which meant you had to trust them too. And he was just as gentle with the demodog as he had been with any of the cats or critters around Forest Hills, like Lucy and her kittens.

"Cerberus," he grinned proudly as he introduced his friend. "Not the first of his name, unfortunately, but a loyal friend nonetheless."

Once Cerberus was on his way, you both continued.

"Wish there was a faster way to get around here," you commented about halfway through the journey, feet starting to ache in your sneakers. "Do any of these cars work?"

"I, uh, never tried them," he admitted. The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought a smile. "I honestly get around quick enough."

"Uh huh," you rolled your eyes. "Mr. Speedster here. Who runs faster, you or The Flash?"

"I'm more partial to the Reverse Flash, actually," he reminded you.

"Nerd."

Before long, you arrived at the dry waste that was this world's Lover's Lake and stared at the glowing, smoking fissure that originated at the center and ran towards the center of town.

"Where'd all the water go?" you wondered aloud.

"I dunno, the lake was dry when Nancy and the Wonder Twins and I crossed over way back when," Eddie sighed. He got that sly look on his face again. "I could try to open the gate a little wider. See if I can drain the real Lover's Lake?"

"Don't you dare," you backhanded him across the arm, but he pulled you into his embrace.

"Just say the word and I'll do it."

"No!"

"I'll give you anything you want."

"Stop."

"What is it you want, Mary?" he quoted, taking on Jimmy Stewart's vocal cadence. "What do you want? How about the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

"I hate you."

"You love me," he grinned proudly and then kissed you again.

It felt like a kiss of finality, a goodbye kiss, like the one you shared when you left Hawkins; it was bittersweet and left a painful ache in your chest, even though you knew you'd be back in a day. Eddie must have felt the same though, because when you pulled away and looked into his eyes, you found they were wet with tears, just like they had been then too. He blinked and one lone tear--made of thick blood instead of water--rolled down his cheek. You reached up to wipe it away, and he grasped your wrist so he could kiss the droplet.

"And I love you," he whispered against the pad of your thumb. "Love you so much I'd give you the moon."

"I'll take it."

"Well look at that," a groan of a familiar voice interrupted the sweet moment, and you both turned to find Wayne pulling himself through the gate at the shore of the lake. You quickly rushed forward to help him to his feet, as he stumbled and wheezed and coughed. "Fancy seeing you here honey. Guess the cat's out of the bag."

"No thanks to you," you ribbed him good-naturedly.

"You figured it out on your own, otherwise you wouldn't be here," he teased and then looked past you to Eddie. "Good to see you kid."

"Hey Wayne," he greeted his uncle.

"Looking more like yourself," Wayne nodded appreciatively.

"Feeling more like myself."

"Hmmm," Wayne clapped a hand on your shoulder and then winked at you. "Wonder why. Makes me feel almost silly that I'd had the brilliant idea to bring some of Rick's old tapes over today."

"C'mon, you know I'll take whatever music I can get my hands on. Everything here is pretty much covered in gunk anyway."

You watched their interaction fondly as they bickered back and forth like they always had. Eddie clapped a hand on Wayne’s shoulder and made him laugh, and Wayne cupped the side of Eddie’s head affectionately, the closest they would get to a hug for now.

Eventually, Wayne hefted the backpack from his shoulder and unpacked all sorts of items for Eddie: clothes, food--more of Eddie's favorites--tapes, and a new book.

Suddenly what he said back at Rick's the other day made a lot more sense.

"Shit, what's a guitar gonna do, or snacks, or...or a t-shirt? When he's stuck in Hell?"

He hadn't been talking about what he'd done when Eddie was wanted for murder and was then believed to be dead; he was talking about this right here. A futile effort to bring Eddie comfort while he was stuck in the Upside Down.

That sinking feeling that you had felt when he'd said that to you was back, worse now knowing that it wasn't just grief he'd experienced, but the constant reminder of his failure to run with Eddie while he could.

You found yourself even more determined to fix this; not just for Eddie, or for you. But for Wayne too.

October 16, 1987

It had taken a little time.

A little elbow grease, a little prayer, a lot of Wayne's mechanical knowledge and jumper cables, but before long you were back in the driver's seat of the Marquis, headed for the Harringtons.

Driving through town had a different weight to it now. There was no insidious evil lurking beyond sight and understanding, it was just Eddie.

Yes, there were still many obstacles to face before things were made right again. But it wouldn't be such an impossible, herculean task anymore to fix things, would it?

But people still died. There were still dark creatures roaming about. Eddie was stuck in the Upside Down and had still resurrected any number of people, which was a big deal in and of itself.

And you were still burdened by your family's curse.

"Right," you muttered to yourself. "All of that. Fuck."

What you wouldn't give to return to the bliss of Eddie's arms right now instead of face that ever-growing list.

"One thing at a time." You nodded and tried to keep your eyes on the prize. "First let everyone know you're alive, then figure out how to get Eddie out of there. The rest will follow."

If only things could be that easy.

You almost--and quite literally--ran into Steve's maroon BMW at some point on your drive. Tires screeched, curses shouted, and then you followed the gang back home. Dustin and Robin bickered in the back seat of Steve's car and you watched their animated expressions, arms flailing as they did. It warmed your heart, made you realize how much you had come to care for them and miss them, even in a few short days.

You beamed brightly as one specific scathing remark from Dustin made Steve turn around in the driver's seat to give a warning glare.

By the time you parked behind Steve at the Harrington's, Dustin had bolted out of the car to greet you and, in a full 180 from his behavior in the car, essentially tackled you in a hug.

"You made it back," he sounded relieved, "We were getting worried."

"First off," you scoffed and flicked the bill of his hat. "I wouldn't expect any less, you little worry wort, especially after three whole days. And second, mister, you have some explaining to do."

“Three day—wait,” he stumbled over his words. “Me? I have some explaining to do? Why? What’d I do?”

He twitched and shifted nervously, then his eyes roamed over you, really taking in the beaten, bruised, and bitten nature of your appearance. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something when a car door slammed heavily and another voice chimed into the conversation.

“Actually, I think it’s you that owes us an explanation,” Nancy announced, arms quick to cross over her chest. You could feel the ire come off her in waves. “Did you think Claudia was gonna keep Billy a secret from everyone else just because you decided to stay with Wayne Munson instead of here?”

Maybe it was the reunion with Eddie that made you more patient. Forgiving. You already gave Nancy the grace that she, understandably, didn't seem to have for anyone else outside of her inner circle, and you thought, once again, about how much the two of you were more alike than different.

Maybe in a different world, you might have been friends.

Instead here, she very much felt the need to be your enemy.

Because the entire world was her enemy thanks to the shitty hand it dealt her.

You could be whatever she needed you to be until she saw that you were not against her, the way she believed you were.

"It's good to see you too Nancy," you deadpanned. "I didn't think it was going to hide the truth from everyone if I left."

"So you just wanted to leave the others to the consequences of your decisions rather than face them yourself," she accused.

"No I thought it would be easier if you all didn't see my face every day, especially with how royally I was fucking everything up," you told her. "See? I can admit when I fuck things up. This isn't the first time. It happens a lot actually."

Her face crumpled in a scowl.

"I know it isn't a surprise," you continued. "Because you seem to think I'm the one who continues to bring misfortune to Hawkins but we both know that it's been here regardless of my presence or not. Just like Kas would still be around whether or not I was. Isn't that right?

"Or should I say Eddie would still be around?"

Steve, Robin, and Dustin stared at you with wide eyes, but Nancy smirked and threw her hands out with a sarcastic laugh.

"Thank God, now we don't have to keep that secret anymore."

"I don't know why you thought it would be ok to keep it a secret in the first place," you shook your head. "As if I wasn't going to find out at some point."

"It was me," Dustin insisted, stepping between you and Nancy with his hands out to placate you both, as though you were about to lunge for her or something. Or maybe Nancy was going to lunge for you.

Whatever foresight he had, it was unnecessary.

As was the ashamed look on his face.

"I didn't want you to know what he's become," he explained. His voice was low and he refused to meet your gaze. "I didn't want you to know--"

"He didn't want you to know Eddie's an evil monster," Nancy chimed in. Steve and Robin both shouted her name in shock. "Am I wrong? Look at everything he's done? Done to Hawkins? Done to us."

"He helped us!" Dustin argued. "Helped us defeat Vecna."

"And look how many people died Dustin! How many people he killed?He's a monster! Don't tell me you'd rather have him back. Don't tell me you never thought that he should have just stayed dead in the Upside Down, instead coming back to kill everyone we love."

"Hey!" You shouted at her now. You stomped your foot, hard, against the concrete driveway and drove enough of your power into the ground to cause it to shake. The reverberations threw Nancy off-balance for a moment, and she fell against the car for support. "That's enough! Don't be an asshole!"

"Yeah," Dustin nodded his agreement with a glance back at you, before he turned back to Nancy to restart his own onslaught.

"You either," you pushed his shoulder to get him to stop. "Fuck, we're not gonna fix this if we're too busy arguing with one another."

"Fix this?" Nancy scoffed. "You think you can fix this? Fix Hawkins? What's next? Can you time travel? Go back to 1955? Kill Henry before he can become Vecna? What else? Can you bring back the dead?"

"I can, actually," you said, a shocked silence falling over the driveway. "Maybe not in the way you think. Maybe not everyone. But Eddie brought the dead back, didn't he? Brought Max back. Eleven did too. So is it really a stretch to believe I might be able to.

"I can't bring back all of your loved ones, but maybe I can help fix this. Put this town right. Close those gates for good. Help you get closure. Move on with your lives, instead of being under this constant...shitstorm of death and destruction."

Nancy recovered from her shock and took a few calming breaths.

"And what does that all entail?" she asked. "You gonna bring Eddie back to this world too? Fix him? Does he get a clean slate? A fresh start? In spite of everything?"

"Not in spite of it," you told her. "Because of it. Everyone gets a fresh start. A second chance."

"Forgive me if I find that a little too good to be true."

She turned on her heel and stormed into the house with Robin hot on her heels.

You let out a relieved breath and relaxed your posture.

"I'm running out of these motivational speeches," you said aloud.

"You're really good at them," Steve offered as he joined you and Dustin. "Better than I am."

"I usually just tell people to run and they listen."

"You're really good at that too," Dustin added. You put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

"You could have just told me about Eddie," you said to him gently. "Honestly, I think it probably would have worked out a lot better if you did."

"I didn't...I didn't want to hurt you," he sighed.

"First of all," you let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Clearly I needed help figuring it out. And second, I hurt myself more by trying to fight an invisible enemy than if I just knew he was Kas. I could have started fixing it from the get."

"Can you fix him?" he asked hopefully. "Get him out of the Upside Down?"

"I can try." You jumped at the sound of Eddie's watch beeping on your wrist. You looked down at it and frowned; the display read midnight...but it was the middle of the afternoon. Weird. You pressed the button to silence the alarm. "I just need to get back."

"You, uh," Steve pointed at his neck. "You've gotta fix yourself first. Need a little first aid there bud?" You had half a mind to flip him off.

"Yeah, Jesus," Dustin reached up and pulled at the collar of your jacket to reveal your bite wounds; he blanched at the sight of them. "Did...did Eddie do that?"

"Uh," you nudged his hand away. "No comment. But yes, uh, maybe some first aid. And some dinner. Then I can head back to Wayne's for a good night's sleep. But uh...a good shower and some disinfectant cream would be great."

The three of you headed inside.

"We just set up a makeshift infirmary yesterday, actually. Pretty well-stocked and everything," Dustin announced matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah? What for?" Both boys stopped in their tracks and you felt the guilt oozing from them. You shot them with what you were sure was a withering stare. "What's the infirmary for, guys?"

"What do you mean you got struck by lightning?"

"I got struck by lightning," Mary Victoria shrugged from her place in bed.

She was propped by many pillows, had a stack of comic books beside her--courtesy of Dustin--and was scribbling in a fuzzy purple diary when you walked into the room the two of you had been staying in. She looked relieved to see you for a literal second until she saw the worried look on your face, and then immediately devolved into making excuses and saying she looked worse than she felt.

But truly, she did look terrible.

Her neck and the visible part of her right arm were bandaged up, eyes concerningly bloodshot, and the ends of her hair singed.

You offered to heal her one moment--and she denied you, claiming she'd have a cool scar to show off and guilt people with--and then demanded the story the next.

The story, unfortunately, seemed unbelievable.

"I pissed God off, and he smited me," was her explanation. Simple as that.

Great.

"That's not a thing," you scoffed.

"Are you sure about that?" Mare narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion.

"Alright, it sort of is, but," you sighed. "It's not God. It's usually some...I don't know...other being of higher power. Angels...Jesus Mare, you're a nun. Sodom and Gomorrah. You should know this."

"I never claimed to be a good nun," she shrugged then winced. "You know this."

You reached across to take her hand and you willed a sense of soothing from your body into hers; not enough to heal her wounds, but to give her some relief.

"So...an angel smited me then," she shrugged again, easily this time.

You snorted for a second thinking of Gabriel, bored of watching your eternal struggle and smiting Mary Victoria for fun just to spice things up a little bit. He didn't have that much of a sense of humor though.

“I’m gonna bank on it being coincidental; what did you even do to incur some holy wrath?”

“Called Him an asshole.”

“You’re fine. I do that all the time.”

“You’re also doomed to Hell. So I don’t think smiting is gonna do much to change you.”

She closed her eyes and leant back against the pillows.

"There's something else," she announced.

"Ok..."

“I know I’m already here and it’s already too late, but what if I don’t want to be a Knight?”

“Then you don’t have to be,” you told her immediately with a gentle smile.

She popped one eye open and then frowned.

“Seriously?” She asked incredulously. “Just like that?”

“I mean, you didn't take an oath or anything, and yeah you're here. It's not like I can send you home so we need to see this through but," you tilted your head back and forth. "You're allowed to choose. Everyone is allowed to choose what it is they want. All of the Knights made a choice, even me."

"But I think this is why I got struck by lightning. Because I changed my mind. I chose to come with you, I left everything behind, and I still chose to change my mind."

You opened your mouth to speak, to refute her belief and spout something that she'd already heard from you a hundred times--how fate was stupid and God didn't have some master plan--when Eddie's watch beeped and interrupted that train of thought.

You glanced down at it and pressed the button to silence it.

Midnight again.

There was a split second where you thought it was funny; either time was moving slower, or the watch was moving faster. But that led you to another thought, more relevant to the conversation at hand.

You sighed and let it roll around in your head for a moment, let it marinate, before you spewed some bullshit on your friend.

"I'm gonna say something a little hypocritical," you offered. "And you can take it any way you want. What if...what if the lightning wasn't a punishment. It seems like a punishment, that's how you're choosing to believe it. But what if it was a sign that you're making the right choice by deciding you don't want this life."

"That's kind of a funny way for the universe to tell me I'm doing the right thing."

You looked back down at the watch.

"I guess it's all just a matter of perspective."

You left Mare to her thoughts as you went to shower, tend to your wounds, and change your clothes. You took your time with it too, hot water be damned; you deserved the time to yourself, to take care of yourself.

The sustained damage and grime of several days in the Upside Down made the shirt and jeans unsalvageable; however, the sentimental side of you couldn't bear to part with your jacket. You hand washed it in the sink, wrung out as much of the dirt and sweat and blood and muck as you could, and laid it over a chair in the dining room to dry as you shared a hearty meal with Dustin and Steve.

They waited to eat with you, instead of the other inhabitants of the house, who--as Nancy had revealed--all knew of the situation with Billy and were less than pleased with your involvement or your return.

So the boys spared you another bombardment of questions and accusations, and chose to eat with you instead.

It was...normal.

Or as close to normal as you were gonna get.

And it was nice.

"You need a break," Dustin said as he scooped now-cold mashed potatoes into his mouth. "We all do, honestly."

"Mmm, I don't think my boss is gonna let me have that," you snorted a laugh. "But it's a nice thought."

Conversation flowed easily, and of course strayed to Billy, who you learned was doing alright, but was still tied up in the garage for the time being.

"News travels fast through the Hawkins grapevine," Steve said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "But, uh, now Max knows he's here."

"And she wants to come and talk to him," Dustin added.

"So, you should let her," you suggested.

"I thought we already established that wasn't going to happen," Steve argued.

"Hey," you held your hands up defensively. "You brought it up. All I know is, something is going on with Billy...some side effect of his resurrection. Maybe even his death. Maybe seeing Max...talking to her will help him work through it."

"I brought it up so you could ask Eddie to undo whatever the fuck it was he did to bring Billy back in the first place."

"Uh huh." You pursed your lips and dragged your fork lazily across your plate. "I'll add it to my to-do list."

"I'm surprised that you hadn't asked him about Billy already."

"You know, my boyfriend who I haven't seen in 3 years, who I thought was dead for the last year and a half...asking him about Billy Hargrove wasn't a top priority."

Steve groaned and made a gagging noise. Dustin turned in his chair and wrapped his arms around himself as he made kissy noises to mock you and Eddie making out.

You laughed and thought of the many times Gareth or Mickey would do the same things--any of the guys really--when you tagged along with Eddie during their hangouts or band practices.

You missed the feeling of belonging, of having these pseudo younger brothers. And you knew Eddie must be missing them as well, Dustin especially.

You had half a mind to ask them where the Corroded Coffin boys had disappeared to, if they knew Mickey or Jack's families, if they were still in town--

Beep beep. Beep beep.

"What's that?" Dustin asked as you groaned and hit the button to silence the alarm. "S'that Eddie's watch?"

Midnight again.

"Yeah he gave it to me to...I dunno, prove this point that he only sent the creatures to feed every third day," you shook your head and then did some mental math. "So I guess they should have hunted yesterday. Right? Sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth. But the watch keeps saying it's midnight. I don't know. I think coming through the gate fucked it up and now it runs fast. It's the nineteenth and the watch says it's the twenty-first."

"Today's not the nineteenth," Dustin frowned. "It's the sixteenth."

"No it isn't. It's the nineteenth, I was in the Upside Down for three days. Maybe four?"

"That's why you said three days earlier?"

"Why else would I say three days if I wasn't gone for three days?"

"You were gone for a day," Steve explained. "Barely a day. You left last night before it started raining."

"No I didn't, I--" Your words fell short when Dustin shoved his own wrist in your face, and you looked at the flashing digitized date and time.

"You know," he swallowed thickly. "Way back when, we figured out that time is stuck in the Upside Down. Like, it's perpetually stuck on the day Will first disappeared. November 6th, 1983. And for a little while, before Vecna came back, we thought that we could...restart the timeline or something. Save all of our friends who died. If only we could...I dunno, access the past."

"I've seen a lot of shit," you muttered. "But time travel definitely isn't one of them."

"Obviously, it didn't work," Steve deadpanned.

"No shit!"

"But maybe," Dustin continued over your and Steve's quick bickering. "Maybe it didn't work because time isn't really stuck in the Upside Down. Vecna manipulated the Upside Down. Will did too--"

"And Eddie," you cut in. "He...he created a house from his memories. From when his mom was still alive."

"So the Hawkins in the Upside Down is stuck in the past, but time is actually moving faster."

You could feel the electric buzz as the three of you considered the implications of it all.

Time moved faster, which meant Eddie might not have just been stuck in the Upside Down for a year and a half...but years. Your heart ached at the thought of him there, alone except for the creatures and Vecna. Years. Maybe decades.

And you...you'd only been there a few days, sure. It felt real. The hours, the days...they had felt real. You slept, you got hungry, you ate. But in this world it was only one.

You looked at Eddie's watch again, and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

The watch had beeped three times. Signaled midnight three times.

"Fuck!" You bolted to your feet and grabbed the still-damp jacket from the chair beside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"What? What's going on?" Steve shouted.

"I need to go," was your only explanation. You briefly considered grabbing extra supplies--food and first aid--you thought of the books in your trunk, and your bag full of clothes. But it didn't matter in the end. You threw the jacket on and ran for the door. "I need to go. Don't wait up...I'll be fine just...fuck, I need to go!"

You were not precious about getting in the car or backing out of the driveway, and you might have even clipped the Harrington's mailbox as you threw the car into drive to race to the nearest gate.

It didn't matter, nothing mattered except for getting back to the Upside Down.

Because you had told Eddie you'd be back tomorrow. You'd promised him.

But to Eddie, you'd already broken your promise.

To him, it had already been three more days without you.

November 6, 1983

Crossing from the Upside Down into the real Hawkins with Wayne had been difficult.

He'd warned you about what to expect before he led you through the gate back home, and he was right, it had been strange. It felt like a weight was slowly lifted off your shoulders, but something invisible pinched at the backs of your arms and legs all the while, trying and failing to get you to stay.

It was worse crossing back through, though.

That heaviness settled back onto you, heavier than the load you already carried, with your bag laden with books and weapons that you'd taken from the car; the weight of an entire dimension and all of the beings that resided within ripped through the membranous barrier and settled onto you and into you as you forced yourself through to the other side.

No wonder Wayne had struggled to stand when he had crossed through earlier in the day.

The toll you needed to pay to enter this world was almost too much to bear.

Still, you made it through, wearily.

Your body ached, your half-healed wounds throbbed, and something deep down inside of you felt almost...abyss-like. Suddenly a little emptier than it had been just minutes before.

But you made it.

Thanks to a bit of foresight, you crossed through the gate at the Creel House, figuring it would be your best bet to find Eddie right away.

The towering pillars--now empty of their inhabitants--the mangled silhouette of the house behind it, and the swarm of bats that circled overhead made you a little nervous, though.

Not from fear, necessarily, but worry and doubt.

Maybe Eddie thought you'd cross back at Lover's Lake and was there instead; there was no reason for him to expect that you'd cross through here, especially since you had departed with Wayne. That would be a trek to walk all the way to Lover's Lake, and you knew you wouldn't be lucky enough to find a bicycle or something. And you might have been on this side of the time warp, but that didn't mean time was on your side.

The bats, surprisingly, gave you hope.

If they were here...did that mean that Eddie was nearby? You had seen how fond he was of them, and vice versa. Maybe he was just inside? Or, if anything, were they flying overhead looking for you?

There was only one way to find out, and you were motivated by a singular focus.

A singular thought that was riddled with guilt.

It. Had. Been. Days.

You dropped your backpack and shook off the heavy, weary weakness that the Upside Down had imparted upon you and began the trek into the house to see if you could find Eddie.

You retraced the steps that you'd taken during your initial descent through the Creel house the other day, trying to ignore the frightening flashes of movement that occurred in your peripheral vision.

You knew they wouldn't hurt you, so you couldn't get distracted; you were on a mission.

Distraction, however, was inevitable; you found that, although the path you had taken still remained, the vastness of the maze of rooms had only grown. Grown in size and in scale. In how convoluted the entire house seemed to be, like something out of a horror movie.

Or maybe something out of the Munsters, really, because as unsettling as it all was, there was an air of...humor to it all.

And that brand of humor screamed of Eddie Munson.

Sure there was a living room and dining room--several of them now, actually--and each one was more elongated and warped than the last, like reflections in a house of mirrors. Funhouse mirrors. You passed a bedroom where the bed floated from the floor and then settled on the ceiling. And beside it was a room with a closed door that seemed to expand and contract as though it was a living, breathing creature.

Had he done all of this to the Creel house in boredom? Morphed it into something comical and new as he waited for your return.

What was not comical, though, were the sounds. An unsettling ambience of hissing and grumbling and groaning that only got louder and clearer as you ascended levels and hopped across the cavernous breaks in the stairs.

It was promising at first, then concerning, as the sounds morphed and seemed to sound like words.

They weren't any words you could understand or fathom; you were pretty well-versed with languages--if not through speech, through recognition, at the very least--and this didn't sound human. They were words in some infernal devilish language made to accommodate many teeth and tongues and mouths that stretched wider than a human's could.

Some language that originated here in the Upside Down. Made of chittering and clicking and screeching.

You finally reached the landing at the bottom of the steps that led to the attic, and you tip-toed over the vine-laden floor, only to halt in your tracks by a sudden cacophony of roar and screams.

A shadow suddenly flooded the wall that followed up the steps, and you watched as the contrasting darkness and light fluttered like a wing, then stretched into a clawed hand whose nail scratched along the length of the banister. You could see the sharpness of that claw with such clarity that you were almost shocked that the wallpaper didn't split as it moved.

Finally, the shadow turned into the silhouette of an elongated figure.

"Do you see what happens," came a muffled voice above. "Do you see what happens when you fail me?"

You frowned; the voice sounded familiar.

Eddie?

"How have we failed?" Another voice this time, easier to identify: Patrick.

"She's out there, and you've yet to find her."

Guilt crept in again; were they talking about you?

You could have gone up there, could have made your presence known but you were curious--

Alright, you were nosy.

--but in your curiosity, you were frozen in place.

"She isn't out there." There was a broken, slurred quality to this speech, but you could still tell it belonged to Fred. “You’d know. We would all know.”

"She's lost."

"She left you," Chrissy hissed, her voice having the most clarity of all three brides. "You're just in denial Eddie."

There was that roar again, and you startled at the sound, but Chrissy's simpering whimper cut through the roar, and it stopped abruptly.

"Don't fear me," Eddie sighed. "Everybody else fears me...please I need the three of you on my side."

"We are on your side," Chrissy continued with bittersweetness. "The only ones. You made us, you healed us. We'll always be on your side. But your little knight...left you here. Again."

"She's lost," Eddie repeated insistently.

"She left you all alone to bask in your loneliness. Tricked you into thinking you were alone without her, when you have us Eddie. Left you here with nothing but the smell of her on your skin. You stink of her."

"Then it should be easier for you to find her," Eddie shouted, rage returning.

The shadow moved from the wall and the infernal speech began anew, with the screams and screeches quick to follow.

Until, Eddie's voice boomed with finality.

"You will go out there and find her! And you won't rest until she's back here. Nothing is as important as bringing her back to me."

"Nothing," Patrick groaned. "Do we mean nothing to you?"

"Are you really such a heartless creature?" Chrissy questioned.

"Yes," Eddie hissed.

The ceiling shook above you as a booted foot stomped overhead.

"I have no heart. Without her."

Stomp.

"I feel no love without her."

Stomp.

"I feel no joy." Stomp. "No sorrow." Stomp. "I am hollow. And I will live here--be stuck here--forever."

The roar emanated again, loud enough where you had to cover your ears. When it was over, there was a flurry of wings as, you could only assume, the brides took flight through the cavernous hole in the attic.

You broke from your reverie, and took a step forward; your sneaker-covered foot caused the floor to creak.

You winced and froze again as the shuffling overhead stopped.

The infernal speech sounded once. Then again. Then the stomping crossed the attic towards the stairs and you swallowed your hesitation to speak.

"Eddie?" you called out. "That you? Are you up there?"

"Sweetheart?" he responded, relief obvious in his muffled voice. "You're back."

You took another step upwards.

"I am. I'm sorry, I didn't realize--"

"Stop!" He shouted. "What are you doing? Stay there."

"Why?"

"Don't. Move." He groaned.

The sounds that followed were sickening.

Crunching and stretching and clicking; you could hear him groan for a moment before an agony-filled cry echoed through the stairwell and caused goosebumps to erupt along your skin.

Whatever hesitation you had was gone; it vanished as soon as you believed Eddie to be in pain. In danger.

You took the steps two at a time until you found yourself just feet away from Eddie's heaving, hunched form, teetering near the cracked precipice in the floor that split the attic in two. You crossed the distance and knelt beside him; your hand found his shaking shoulder and you pulled him into you, away from the dangerous edge.

"What happened?" you questioned frantically. "What was all that; what's wrong?"

"How much did you hear?" he ignored you to ask instead, voice weak and dry.

"Does it matter? What is this? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," he breathed out. "The others...I'd sent them out to find you, I thought--"

"I'm here." You interrupted him. You snaked your hand around to cup his cheek and lifted his head so he could look at you. His eyes were blood-red and shined with a wet glassiness. "There's just...there was a misunderstanding, but I'm here now."

"Don't go," he muttered desperately, turning his face into your touch.

"I won't."

"You were gone for so long. You promised. Don't leave me again."

"Eddie I promise--and this time I swear I will keep it--I'll never leave you again."

November 6, 1983

You woke the next morning--or at least, you thought it was morning; it was never actually daytime in the Upside Down, it seemed--alone.

Eddie had broken the news that the two of you needed to stay at the Creel House for the night, and despite your hesitations, you were also tired enough that you couldn't object. Any bed seemed appealing enough, after several days of little to no sleep. Even if it wasn't that makeshift bed in his childhood home, that cozy safe haven he'd made, it was alright as long as he was there.

But you'd spent the evening talking, discussing the time warp between the Upside Down and the real Hawkins.

Eddie had a hard time understanding at first, and he confessed that his feelings were affected by the belief that you'd either gotten lost or hurt or abandoned him again. But after a stretch of pensive silence where he squeezed you tightly and ran his nose along your hairline, he admitted that it made sense.

"I used to think time didn't exist here," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "First it was...the endless suffering and torture Vecna put me through to make me into this. And then it was endless waiting. It felt like an eternity."

Your throat tightened at the thought that it felt like an eternity because it probably was.

"I guess that just means," you spoke in a hushed and hopeful tone. "That just means we have more time to figure out how to get you out of here. More time together before I need to go back."

And that sent him into a panic, because you'd just promised him that you'd stay.

His hands clutched you tighter, tips of his clawed fingers biting through your clothes and the slightest bit into your skin. He pressed his body further into yours, as if you meld the two of you together.

It took a lot of soothing, a lot of explaining, to remind him once again that you had very human needs. Like food, and sleep, and hygiene.

"There's not exactly running water here Eddie," you joked and he huffed stubbornly. You let your eyes roam about his skin, somehow not covered in grime like the rest of the dimension. "I don't know how you keep so clean."

"I could show you," he teased seductively, lips brushing against yours.

It was obvious he was trying to change the subject, trying to make you forget the idea of leaving him. And you let him, let him kiss away his worries and yours.

Lying awake now, though, you considered what the consequences would be if you simply stayed.

You observed your body, really honed in on your sense of self. That heaviness that had settled on you upon entering the Upside Down hadn't faded yet; in fact, you'd felt it when you'd woken up the first time, but had simply attributed it to the Brides' attack on you.

Would you get used to it over time? Had Eddie gotten used to it? He seemed comfortable in his skin, in this realm; there was no heaviness about him. Had whatever...transformation he'd undergone at the hands of Vecna contributed?

There was just something about him though that seemed extreme; he'd always had very volatile emotions--normal for a young adult, just like you--now it seemed he teetered back and forth even more than you were used to. Happy and affectionate one moment, distant and miserable the next, and sometimes...there was nothing at all.

What had he said to the brides? He was hollow?

You certainly felt a little bit of that hollowness, but then again...you had for quite some time now. Since you had left him in '85. And it hadn't gone away until the moment you were reunited.

Maybe it was just the connection you had, your reliance on each other and your love for one another, that made it feel this way.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and you startled, then quickly relaxed as Eddie crept inside; the hollowness in your chest suddenly seemed a little lessened thanks to his presence.

Yes. That's what it was; what it had to be.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," he whispered as he shut the door behind him.

"Gross," you whined with a giggle. "When did you become such a romantic?"

"Excuse me, I've always been romantic," he said, hand flying over his heart with mock insult. "You, my love, have never even gotten me a Valentine's Day gift."

"We've never spent a Valentine's Day together dingus." You stuck your tongue out at him.

He hemmed and hawed for a minute and then his figure blurred across the room as he closed the distance and jumped onto the bed, smothering you in kisses and raspberries and little affectionate nips. You squealed and tried to bat him away, with no real force or effort, until he cupped your face and gifted you with the sweetest kiss filled with as much loving reverence as he could.

Your heart soared and that hollowness faded more and more with every second. Faded, but didn't disappear altogether.

And you realized it wouldn't be gone until you made this all better; until you could really be together.

In the real world and not this...purgatory.

"Speaking of conformist, capitalist holidays only meant to sell cards and candy--" Eddie broke the kiss and you flicked his ear.

"I have to have a lecture now? Instead of more kisses?" you scoffed.

"Yes, because you said it's October. And we might not have had a Valentine's Day together, but we've definitely celebrated Sweetest Day together."

"Is that even a thing?" you narrowed your eyes at him. "Sounds like something you made up."

"No," he shook his head back and forth. "I promise. We have had a Sweetest Day together. Remember I told you about the Sadie Hawkins dance at the middle school once upon a time? It was on Sweetest Day."

"Uh," you tried to recall him saying something about it at any point in your relationship. "No."

"I tried to butter up Principal Coleman to get Corroded Coffin to play at the dance?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"And he said no."

"That sounds familiar."

"But then we spent the day together anyway and I got you McDonalds breakfast? Angel, come on."

"You got me McDonalds breakfast a lot of times," you giggled. "Get to the point!"

"I'm trying to ask my girlfriend out on a date," he rolled his eyes at you. "But she is the least romantic person on the face of the earth, if not in all of time itself."

You ignored his dramatic insults and instead fawned over the sweet gesture with some confusion.

"A date? Eddie...what date? We're in the Upside Down. We gonna go out to the quarry and makeout? I'm sure there are cars parked up there, even frozen in time like this, if we wanted to fuck in the backseat."

He froze for a second and looked a little embarrassed, and if not for the low light of the room and the deathly pallor of his skin, you were sure he'd be turning red.

"I, uh," he coughed and tried to recollect himself. "No, not the quarry. Something better. Something perfect just for you, specifically."

"Do I need to wear a dress?"

"Do you have a dress?"

"No."

"Good, neither do I," he laughed. "And I don't have a tux either. So jeans and t-shirts it is."

"Uh, Eddie..."

"Hey listen..."

"...when you said romantic date..."

"...hear me out..."

"A church wasn't the first thing that came to mind," you finished and stared up at the steepled structure before you.

You pointedly avoided anything religious when you lived in Hawkins; Eddie had asked you about it when he'd first seen your cross necklace. You had told him you wouldn't be caught dead in a church, and at that time, it had been true. Because of that, the two of you had mocked Hawkins Presbyterian Church with its pristine white exterior, and its attendees with their John Winthrop-inspired holier-than-thou exceptionalism.

This church, though, was certainly not like that. And although your faith was still shaky at best, begrudging at worst, you felt more at ease here.

Maybe it was the fact that you were in the Upside Down, and maybe because it was clearly a Catholic Church and the stained glass window felt familiar. But aside from the window that reflected all manner of colors at the distant lightning, it was unassuming. Quiet and square and austere, with dull brown bricks that made up the small chapel's exterior, and a steepled bell tower that didn't even look like it had a bell.

Much like you did with Nancy, you felt some kind of kinship to this forgotten little building.

Still, it wasn't your ideal location for a date.

"I knew about this place before I even met you," Eddie explained. "Out past the plant, been abandoned for years. Mickey and Jack and I used to come and throw rocks at the windows. Even broke in once to see if there was anything cool inside."

"Seriously?" you laughed at him. "Yeah, no wonder people thought you worshiped Satan."

"No one ever knew," he held his hands out innocently. "Not even Wayne. And we didn't even steal anything. But uh, I dunno...after you left...I even thought about coming here to pray once. Not even to pray for you to come back. Thought about your grandma all of a sudden one day; drove out here. Couldn't find it in me to get out of the van."

"Maybe that was around the time she actually got sick," you wondered aloud.

"Like I had some psychic powers or something, even before all of this?" he gestured to himself with a laugh. "Hey, stranger things have happened."

He cleared his throat and led you inside.

Although didn't look much better inside--peeling plaster, overturned pews, and the chains to hang a cross over the altar but no cross itself--the interior at least didn't seem to be touched by the vines and tentacles and muck that covered the rest of the Upside Down.

"Maybe God does exist after all," Eddie laughed as he walked backwards down the aisle, responding to your observation almost like he read your mind. "Or maybe Vecna was just afraid of churches or something; places of worship like this...are generally left alone."

"I'm sure religious trauma isn't that far of a stretch to assume with Vecna," you agreed. "My power is a little strained in the Upside Down though; makes me think if...I dunno...there even are any higher powers here."

"I'm sure there's gotta be something out there. Like the Force in Star Wars."

You snorted and shook your head as you followed him.

Contrary to your previous statement about your abilities, you didn't hesitate to ignite the remnants of candles in the votive racks beside the altar. You conjured the warm, ever-present burn of the core of the earth and the wicks lit aflame, bathing the chapel in a warm, illuminating glow.

It was with this new light that you noticed the blanket and pillows that had been set up in front of the altar table, along with a pile of snacks and a puzzle.

A perfect little date, just like you used to have camped out in the living room of the trailer.

You felt your own loving glow emanate from within, as you were filled with adoration for Eddie. That he would try to bring you some normalcy, even if your lives were anything but normal.

"I found a World's Best Boyfriend mug when I was exploring once," he said matter-of-factly after you voiced your gratitude for the setup. "There's not much to do here when we aren't actively feeding or fighting. But, uh, you can give it to me as a gift if you want; I'll even act surprised."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind," you promised him, and then settled on the blanket.

Eddie started organizing the pieces of the puzzle as you dug through the snacks--more of Eddie's favorites, courtesy of Wayne: slice soda, Hostess pudding pies, cool ranch Doritos and...

"Wha--" you hesitated at the items hidden at the bottom of the pile. "Ok, I know we're in a church but all joke's aside, seriously?"

You picked up the bottle of sacramental wine and package of communion wafers.

"I found them while I was setting up," he shrugged and laughed. "Saw the crosses on the packages, thought it would be a good pun. I'll even try them if you want, food aversion be damned."

"I doubt they're any good."

You were about to set them aside so you could open a can of soda, but then a wicked little thought wormed its way into your head. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling, but Eddie was quick to notice.

"What? What's that look?"

"Nothing," you tilted your head to the side and contemplated telling him. "It's nothing just...I don't know if I ever told you...probably not but...I've never had communion before."

You explained the principle to him, the way you were denied your own First Communion in favor of the revelation of your family's curse, how you still would take your Nonna up whenever you'd go to mass with her...but were never even offered the absolution for yourself. Even by the priests who didn't know who and what you were, as though there was a stain on your soul that they could simply tell would never be washed away by a simple mouthful of bread and wine.

"To quote my mom, that's a bunch of horseshit," Eddie laughed. "Everyone deserves to be forgiven. You're telling me Loudmouth Linda who curses at the waitress at lunch after church on Sunday's deserves it more than you who's literally fighting evil every day? Baby, if you don't open that pack of crackers and eat one right now I'm gonna have to hand feed one to you."

"Well," you hummed, "this is supposed to be a romantic date. Ed--Eddie I was kidding."

He snatched the packet of wafers from you and sliced it open with his claws without hesitation; he brought the package up to his nose to sniff it and then plucked one wafer out and held it in front of his eyes.

"It looks plain," he noted.

"It's supposed to be plain."

"And it smells stale."

You took the package from him and sniffed gently for yourself.

"Yeah," you agreed. "That's what they smell like."

"Then I don't know what all the commotion is about," he announced dismissively. "I mean...damn I thought it was pretty metal, actually. Everyone going someplace every Sunday to eat someone's flesh and drink someone's blood in a ritual. But it's just...this."

You couldn't help but laugh at him.

He cleared his throat and knelt before you; he held one hand over your head and spoke your name aloud. He projected his voice and it echoed throughout the chapel, the deep reverberation penetrated deep into your bones.

"Eddie," you muttered. "What are you doing?"

"I'm forgiving you," he spoke normally for a second.

"You...you can't," you laughed in disbelief.

"Who said?"

"Uh, I don't know," you scoffed. "Only every priest, bishop, cardinal, pope everyone in my family has ever met. We have to earn our own forgiveness. End this curse ourselves. And it's gonna end with me, one way or another."

"Well, I think that's bullshit because it sounds like no one has ever tried." He closed his eyes and held his hand out again.

"It's not even gonna do anything," you argued. "The wafer is symbolic."

"I'm channeling my holy energy sweetheart. I can't hear you."

"Alright," you waved dismissively. "Whatever, go ahead and try."

He hummed deeply and recited the monks' chant from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, complete with smacking the top of your head with the palm of his hand. He even had the audacity to shush you as you giggled.

But the longer it went, the more he waved his hands and whispered blessings from this book and that movie, the more you felt...something.

Something inside of you stirred, felt different, lighter. Even the weight of the Upside Down wasn't as prominent. And you knew, logically, that nothing had changed in you, that the curse would still be there after whatever-this-was was over.

But in the moment, you couldn't help but close your eyes and bask in the feeling, especially as you started to feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

"Alright sweetheart," Eddie whispered after a few more moments. "Open the hatch."

You snorted and opened your mouth, hands coming together in prayer almost instinctively; he laid the wafer on your tongue and then cupped your face in his hands.

"There," he whispered and pressed the lightest kiss to your forehead. "You're forgiven."

You choked a sob and opened your eyes to look at him, tears immediately running down your cheeks and over his fingers.

"God," you sobbed and laughed simultaneously. "Fuck."

"I'm not God, I'm Eddie." He shot you his idiotic, crooked grin and then thumbed over your cheeks. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. Sit down now, before you ruin our date even more," you hiccuped.

You silently wiped the tears away and tore into the snacks, joking that the junk food tasted a lot better than the wafer did. Eddie hesitantly put a wafer of his own into his mouth and then immediately stuck his tongue out and scraped the remnants of it away.

"God, I really can't eat real food, can I?" he lamented once he'd spat out the taste of it enough times.

"I think it just tastes like that," you offered as a consolation.

"Expectation almost never meets reality, I guess. You should try the wine too; prove that grape soda is better. Or maybe don't, that way I don't have to miss it that much."

You laughed and swatted at him, and then got an idea.

"Hang on," you got to your feet and held your hands out to stop him from following you. "Hang on, don't go anywhere, keep working on the puzzle, I'll be right back."

You skipped back past the altar to the little rectory hallway that led to the sacristy. The door was already cracked open and although it was mostly barren, there was a small pile of cloth that must have been vestments, and...

"Bingo," you muttered and crossed the room to grab your prize. You blew dust off of them and then turned back the way you came.

"You know," you exclaimed when you arrived back in the chapel. "When I say you're an idiot, you really are an idiot, Eddie Munson."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," he responded. "But what did I do to earn such an honorific?"

"You come to a church in the middle of the Upside Down, you set up a picnic for us, you even find holy bread and wine for me. And you don't even bring us the proper drinking vessels."

You held out two golden chalices, ornately etched with crosses and flowers and vines.

"You know," you dropped to your knees and placed them on the blanket. "You and I spent an entire weekend way back when making chalices for Hellfire club; I'm honestly surprised if you went pillaging for goods for this picnic, you didn't immediately cream your little nerd pants at the sight of these. Something might actually be wrong with you."

"Excuse me, I was only trying to find the best things for you, your highness." He did an exaggerated bow as he sat. "Wasn't thinking of finding any treasure for myself. But now that you mention it, these could be an awesome addition to the Hellfire repertoire. If only I..."

He trailed off and cleared his throat as you opened the bottle of wine and began to fill one of the chalices for yourself.

"If only what?" you asked. He shrugged dismissively and refused to meet your gaze. "What? If only you get to play with the guys again? You will. I'm getting you out of here. Or I'll die trying."

"Don't say that," he hissed, head snapping back towards you. "Don't."

"Then don't be such a negative Nancy," you said, intentionally thinking of your would-be-nemesis back in Hawkins.

"It's more than just getting out of here, alright? I've done things. Terrible things, actually, speaking of Nancy.

"You know I killed her boyfriend? Jonathan Byers. He was the first one. The worst one. But Vecna wanted me to send a message, so it had to be him. I killed her dad too. And this kid Lucas' dad. Both of them in one swift slash."

He jutted his arm out, hand curled in a claw, talons razor-sharp and glinting as they cut through the air. His eyes were wild, pupils blown, mouth wide open in a hiss, fangs extended.

Then there was a beat and he seemed to realize himself; he drew his arm back against his chest and cradled one hand in the other. He clicked his claws against one another pathetically and then sighed.

"I killed Mickey," he murmured, voice so low you could barely hear. "I killed Rick. Watched the life leave their eyes. And I think...I know...I enjoyed it."

The chapel was silent after those words, save for the roar of lightning outside, and your heavy, pensive breaths.

Your heart ached. Ached for Mickey and Rick, but more for Eddie.

You knew that feeling. Knew that guilt. It was an old friend.

You looked down at the chalice filled with wine, and then at the other one, which you were about to fill despite Eddie's lack of need for food and drink.

And you were struck with an idea.

You set the bottle aside and scooted closer to him, you took one of his hands in yours and ignored his questions as you leant down and kissed his palm and each of the pads of his fingers.

You then maneuvered his hand so his clawed thumb pressed into the meat of your palm, and then dragged it deep through the middle of it. You created a cut deep and long, despite Eddie's protests, and then let the blood drip down into the empty chalice.

"What are you doing?" he snapped at you. "What is this?"

"You forgave me," you answered, voice heavy with determination. "And now I'm forgiving you."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to--"

"Don't have to do this?" you repeated your own words from earlier. "This isn't going to work? Eddie...just...if I'm not doing this for you then I'm doing this for myself."

He looked like he was about to argue again, but you weren't going to let him.

"You never know," you quickly stopped him. "This could get us a step closer to getting you out of here."

He closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth, and motioned for you to continue.

You didn't have as much theatricality as Eddie had before. You simply let the chalice fill to an acceptable amount of blood, and then grabbed it with both hands and held it slightly raised before you.

"This is my blood," you recited words that you'd heard thousands of times. You looked at Eddie and shared a shaky smile as your eyes locked together. "The blood of a new and everlasting covenant. It has been shed for you, Eddie, so that your sins may be forgiven. Now and forever."

You lowered the chalice and tried to pass it over to him, but he backed away quickly. Quicker than the eye could see.

He was suddenly across the room, pacing with his head in his hands, shaking.

"What is it?" You watched as he muttered to himself and shook his head. "Eddie, what?"

"I don't deserve this," he said. "I don't deserve...your forgiveness."

"Yes you do. You said it yourself, what makes you any less deserving of forgiveness than...I don't know...than me, than Nancy Wheeler, than anyone?"

"Because I'm a liar!" He turned back to you and shouted. "I'm a liar, I'm a coward, and I'm a monster."

"Don't say that."

"I am."

"You're not! You're my boyfriend. You're Eddie Munson. You're...the silliest, stupidest, bravest boy I know. You take care of everyone you love, much more than you think to take care of yourself, and you...you were lost. And all of those things that you did...you did them when you were lost. So you deserve a chance to make it alright. You deserve forgiveness."

"I'm not talking about what I did when Vecna was still alive," Eddie told you through gritted teeth. "I'm talking about now. I'm a coward now. I'm a liar now. I'm a monster now."

"Eddie..."

"And you'll never know how much I don't deserve this," he waved at the altar, at the chalice, at you. "Until I show you what's become of me. Who I am now. What I am now."

You were stunned silent as he shed his jacket, as he kicked off his boots, as he took several breaths.

And then he screamed.

You tried to get to your feet, tried to get to him, but the sight before you prevented you from moving at all.

His clothes ripped first, then his skin; they stretched until they couldn't stretch any more. The seams of his shirt, of his jeans--the seams that you'd traced along his limbs--all split as his body bulged and stretched in an utterly inhuman way.

But where his clothes shredded and tore gave way to thread, his skin just made room for more skin, more bones.

His legs elongated, raised him higher off the ground, and his feet practically uncurled to become longer, more dexterous, with claws of their own that could slash and grab like his hands.

And speaking of his hands and his arms, they were next; you felt sick to your stomach as you listened to his bones snap into pieces, as he groaned with each snap. But they were quick to shift into new places, and soon he stretched to find comfort in this new, elongated wingspan that matched his towering height; he flexed his fingers, now sporting longer, knife-like claws, and extra phalanges that could bend in any direction he chose.

On and on it went, as his shoulders got wider and broader, as his torso stretched and rippled, as his neck became unfathomably long.

He threw his head back and the seams of that scarred Glasgow smile ripped open anew, dripping blood down his cheeks and throat. The unsettling smile he now sported wasn't complete though, not until rows and rows of fangs--not just the two sets you'd seen and grown used to as they smiled and bit into you--grew and settled along his jaw. Razor sharp, glinting in the firelight, promising to bring about a creature's demise if they weren't careful.

And finally, just when you thought it was all over, the skin along his abdomen rippled. You had thought there was something wrong there, when you'd run your hands along his ribcage over the past few days as you'd held each other in bed.

There was something wrong. Something terribly, horribly wrong.

Eddie fell to his knees, and his talons anchored into the stone floor of the chapel as he hunched over. The scars you had felt along his back split, and from them grew two massive, bat-like wings, unfurling from where they'd been tucked away in the cavity of his body. They were made of bones and muscle and a thin, veiny, membranous skin that you could practically see the light of the votives through.

Eddie twitched on the ground and the wings flexed and flapped; the droplets of blood that had coated the wings sprayed around the chapel; onto the altar and the pews, dousing a few of the candles with a steamy hiss, even pelting your skin, causing you to flinch.

At the end of it all, when this metamorphosis was complete, and something new had emerged from the body that had once belonged to Eddie Munson, he rose.

With a great wide mouth and clawed hands raised to the heavens, the creature roared.

It was an ear-splitting sound, bellowing and shrieking all at once.

And then it turned to you.

He turned to you.

Eddie turned to you.

Because you might have made the mistake of thinking him a creature once, but you vowed never again.

All of the thoughts that had halted as you watched the spectacle with unblinking eyes suddenly flooded your brain. All manner of logic and emotion, fighting and contradicting one another, as you struggled to reconcile what you had seen, what you had felt, and what you knew all into one truth.

How many things had you faced like this before, with too many teeth and claws that slashed and tore? How many countless names of creatures had you memorized over the years, not just of being a knight, but of being alive? You could name them all now, if you dared, but no name would ever match up to what was on display before your very eyes. Nothing like this.

But what was this?

This...it...he...was your boyfriend. The love of your life.

He wasn't just what he was once or had ever been; this was what had become of him, what had been done to him in the name of evil. This was the result of his trauma, but also his survival. And because of that, or maybe in spite of that, he wasn't inherently evil himself.

Contrary to your instincts--contrary to what had been taught to you all your life, all you had ever faced or ever known--you knew he was good. In fact, good was all you ever knew him to be, even during the brief stint where you believed there was a Kas, a dastardly nemesis who'd vowed to kill you.

This image certainly could conjure that belief...but it simply...didn't.

You thought back to something that you had told Mary Victoria. That Eddie was good, but you didn't know if he was good enough for Heaven.

Heaven, though, was not just a place for good people. It was a place for forgiveness, a place of peace. And didn't Eddie, by the grace of all the atrocities that he had been a part of, that had been imparted onto him, also deserve that peace? Deserve that forgiveness.

You stood on shaky legs, chalice still held in your wounded hand, and approached him.

His shoulders heaved with labored breaths as he watched you, and he flinched as you got close enough.

"Please," he growled, and you recognized the muffled quality of his voice from the previous night, talking to the Brides, and you realized that he had to talk through the mouthful of his teeth. It was different, but still his voice. "Please I don't want to hurt you.

"You won't," you assured him, shifting to try to meet his gaze; you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye at this new height. "I trust you. I believe in you."

"I'm a monster. I told you."

"No...you're..." You paused and let your eyes roam over him again, closer this time, and you were able to see the small details now, illuminated by the candlelight. The throbbing of veins, the texture of his skin, the ripple of muscles, yes...but also the soft curl of his hair, his musicians fingers--even with the claws--and the bulbous tip of his nose.

He was still Eddie.

And Eddie Munson was many things.

But not a monster, not a creature, not a beast. No.

You reached out to grab one of his hands and you wrapped his elongated fingers around the rounded bowl of the chalice.

His red scleras shined wet with tears and he took the chalice from you fully; he raised it to his mouth, then tipped his head back, and drank your blood in one exaggerated swallow.

Was this what happened when someone looked upon the true form of a God? Were they fully unprepared for the sight before them? Was that the true test, to see something so unfathomable and horrific and still find it...

"Beautiful," you muttered. "God...Eddie, you're beautiful."

He was quick to grab you, quick to haul you into his arms and run the edges of his claws along your face and down your neck reverently; he made quick work of your clothes, ripping the seams of them like his transformation had ripped the seams of his. With you, however, there was surgical precision.

He was almost too gentle in this new form, not wanting to hurt you, but you'd welcome the hurt, crave it, if it meant you could be one with him quicker. You desired it now, desired him, all of him, every part of this new version that he had revealed to you.

How many times, before the Upside Down, before Vecna, had he been ridiculed and mocked because of his appearance? Because he seemed rude or dangerous or rowdy...evil. But those closest to him--the people he belonged to, that belonged to him--always saw the true him. Recognized it, celebrated it.

Now, it was only amplified; the startling appearance, the danger, the fearful exterior. But it was still Eddie.

How could you not embrace him entirely? Want to bask in him? Consume all of him? You'd changed entirely in his eyes--maybe not in appearance, but in fundamental definition--and his want for you never faltered.

It was still Eddie, and he was yours.

And you were still you, and you were his.

Body and soul.

You swatted his hand away from you so you could touch him for yourself, so you could explore and caress him, kiss him.

You were hesitant at first, running your fingers gently along his lips, then further back along the cavernous maw that had been revealed.

"It hurts you," you noted; not a question, an observation. "To do this...it hurts you."

"It's easier to hide it," he tried to make the excuse. "They don't look at me like I'm...a monster when I still look like Eddie Munson."

"You still look like Eddie Munson, though," you tilted your head to the side in quiet contemplation. "Same eyes, same hair, same dumb jokes...just a little more..."

"Metal?"

"Bitey."

You touched the tip of one of his fangs with a finger and watched how easily it punctured your skin as a droplet of blood pooled there. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the apples of his cheeks round and pleasant; he nipped at your fingers gently, playfully as his shoulders shook and there was a hissing, chittering sound that rattled inside of his chest along with a deepened chuckle. You listened in awe, and basked in the sound of his new laughter.

When you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the bow of his upper lip. He huffed and you kissed it again, and again, until he shifted his jaw and was able to kiss you back properly.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the contrasting plush of his lips and the unforgiving hardness of his fangs just below; strange to navigate, actually, but it made for an interesting time. Just when you thought there couldn't be many more new or first experiences together, this change presented so many possibilities.

Possibilities that you both seemed eager to discover.

The kissing was something mastered quickly, which was relieving as you seemed to always want your lips on him, or his on you. His teeth nipped and cut when the excitement overwhelmed you both, but it wouldn't matter really. You'd heal, just like all of the other bites and wounds he had inflicted on you in the past few days slowly healed. Eddie was incredibly apologetic though.

That was where his tongue came into play.

At first you thought he licked the cut that had carved your bottom lip to lap up the bit of blood that pooled there, and you had half a mind to offer your neck to him to feed, or your wrist or some other part of you. But soon it became soothing, and you almost craved the calming back and forth over the stinging wound, as you stared up into the deep, warm, blood-and-chocolate abyss of his eyes.

But he didn't stop at your lip.

You offered for him to feed from you, as you had intended, and he had laid you down on the altar in order to do so comfortably. Comfort was not the word that you would use, though; the sensation of more fangs piercing your throat was almost troubling, and the pain was borderline unbearable, but you resolved to soldier through it for him.

Anything for him.

His tongue made itself known once again, and your eyes, that you had shut to keep stinging tears at bay, shot open as you tried to fathom the sensations you felt.

His teeth had punctured your skin, and he drew mouthful after mouthful of your blood, but then there was his tongue, snaking over the bite wounds as well, pressed against his teeth from the inside of his mouth...and then the outside.

"Eddie!" you exclaimed in shock, and with a wet squelch, he pulled away from you and you saw it.

Long and wet, patchwork and mottled, his tongue was elongated and lolling out of his mouth; it began to retract, back into his mouth, and his throat seemed to bulge with it.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

And you should have been scared; instinct told you to feel fear. Especially because the image he presented right in this very moment--the combination of the teeth and tongue and his wings extended behind him--conjured thoughts of the manananggal.

The creature that killed your father.

"I'm not afraid," you told him truthfully.

You weren't.

There was that dark little whisper inside of you again, only this time, it basked in some invisible triumph over your father. He had faced countless dark creatures and failed. Perished. And here you were, despite everything you had been through because of him...facing the dark and dangerous thing Eddie had become and still seeing the good, the light, the love in him.

You and Eddie were basking in something greater than the light of "God's forgiveness," you were basking in the light of each other. A forgiveness you crafted together.

You reached out to Eddie to bring him to you again, so you could soothe the worry that he'd scared you; however, he took the gesture to mean something else.

He lowered himself to you again, rubbed his nose along yours gently, only this time, he allowed his tongue to snake back out. You watched, entranced, and allowed yourself the moment to get lost in the feel of it, lapping at the still-weeping bite on your neck, then down the valley of your breasts, the soft slope of your stomach, right down to the core of you.

You gasped and Eddie's cold breath fanned across your face as he huffed in triumph.

You let him play with you for a moment, tease your clit, your weeping slit, but just as he was about to breach your entrance, you stopped him.

His tongue retracted as he pulled back, and his brow furrowed in concern.

"You don't want that?" he teased. "Don't want me to eat your pussy; you always want that, sweetheart. Fuck, I always want that."

"I want to take care of you," you confessed with wide-eyed wonder as you trailed a finger along his arm. "I want to learn everything I can about you, want to explore every inch of you."

Like a great adventurer exploring a new and unknown world.

His eyes shifted back and forth between yours--nervously and full of uncertainty--and then he melded your lips together again, a desperate kind of gratitude emanating from him through the kiss.

You switched places then.

Him laying comfortably on the altar, propped by the pillows he had brought for your comfort.

But not before you got a full glimpse of him.

Tattered clothes shed, he stood there for your pleasurable observation, proud and preening and practically purring as you circled him like the predator he was meant to be.

You found that all the bleeding wounds that had split open during his transformation had healed now. And the scars, the seams of him that you attended to over the past few days and had been susceptible and weak before, were now strong; yes still scars, but mountains along the topographical map that made up his skin. And where the scars were mountains, the visible veins were rivers.

You stood on your tip toes to kiss along his spine, and that was when you found his wings to be especially sensitive. They fluttered at your touch, and he chittered and shook again, spoke your name with a delicious groan.

Amused, you tried the move again, but he seemed to have enough. He flapped his wings in several great beats, the power of which carried him forward, toes just grazing the stone floor. He turned as he settled into the little love nest on the altar to give you some faux withered stare, and that's when you got to see the effects of your attention.

His cock stood proudly against his belly.

And as arousing as it was to know that he was hard for you, because of you, the mood was effectively ruined momentarily as you snorted, all sense of seduction gone.

"What?" Eddie chuckled along with you, clearly happy to see you smile. "What is it?"

You shook your head and stalked forward, finding the perfect seat upon his thighs as he leant back into the pillows.

"All of these...upgrades," you tsked. "And Vecna didn't touch your dick."

The chapel suddenly filled with laughter as the two of you shared in the absurdity of the moment.

"Can't mess with perfection sweetheart," Eddie winked at you, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Did you tell him that?" you teased. "Was that a formal request?"

"If I'm being honest, I don't even think he had a dick."

"Seriously?"

"He walked around naked. Never saw one."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"Maybe that's why you're stuck here. You're not adhering to the uniform requirements of King of the Upside Down."

"Castration?" he asked.

"Nudity," you clarified.

"Is that a formal request from you now?" He licked along the seam of his lips and then grinned that unsettling, feral grin. "Because I can make it happen just for you, angel."

"I know you're joking but you forgot one thing," you leaned closer to him, stretching so your lips could brush his. "I like your cock."

You suddenly rivaled Eddie for speed as you denied him a kiss and shifted further down his body to take the head of his cock in your mouth, fingers squeezing the length of him, making him choke on the sudden and unexpected pleasure. The noises that he made as you devoured him were sinful, feral, guttural though, and you couldn't help but feel an arrogant sense of pride about it.

Great strategist that he was, he should have known better when it came to your escapades. Your seductress tricks, as he’d called them once.

You closed your eyes and savored the taste of him. The taste of his skin and sweat, remnants of whatever detergent or cologne that clung to his clothes...but conspicuously no musky taste of sex.

You considered, once again, the cleanliness of his body.

And the lack of water in the Upside Down.

And then that impossible tongue.

You hummed as you released him and then kissed down the side of his shaft so you could glance up at his face; he usually liked to watch but his eyes were wrenched shut, nose scrunched, as he panted. A clicking purr roiled somewhere deep in his chest.

"Naughty boy," you hummed and his eyes shot open. "Licking yourself clean like a cat."

You emphasized your accusation by running your tongue, flat, up his length. Then you flicked at the head once, twice, three times until he had the good sense to look bashful.

"W-what else w-was I supposed to do sweetheart?" That naive schoolboy routine wouldn't work on you. No silly crooked smiles while he sported so many razor-sharp fangs.

No puppy eyes, no innocent act.

Especially not when waves of guilt and desire emanated from him implicitly.

He knew exactly what he was and what he did.

Perv.

You snorted at him but went back to sucking the head of his cock; then, ready to make him beg, your teeth scraped ever so tantalizingly until his breath hitched. You let up to lave at him to relieve the slight sting...

"That's enough of that," Eddie hissed at you and pried you up and away from his cock, despite your whining protest.

You were underneath him before you knew it, and his teeth were buried in your shoulder, pad of his thumb working at your clit to pull an orgasm from you at the same rate that he pulled your life's essence from the bite.

The mixture of pleasure and pain boiled in your veins as you climbed higher and higher and you were sure that Eddie could taste it on you, because every hitch in your breath, every moan, was parroted right back at you from him.

A hiccup matched with a huff.

A soft yes followed by a delicious snarl.

And the moan that ripped from your throat as you came was answered with a roar as he released you from the bite and stretched to his full height, head tossed back towards the heavens, announcing his victory to whatever demon or deity dared to listen.

Your euphoria was short-lived though, as he positioned himself at your entrance and drove into you. He grabbed you and hunched over to press his forehead against yours and began thrusting wildly.

It was sweet for a moment.

But you weren't ready.

You weren't ready for his trusts, the raw power that he possessed in this body that he couldn't seem to control after his frenzied feeding, or the way he pistoned into you so roughly that your hips knocked yours in a way that would bruise.

You weren't ready for his talons to puncture your skin and the flesh of your torso, digging painfully deep into you, tearing through muscle and sinew and organs in an otherwise-devastating way.

You weren't ready for your own blood to drip from his fangs onto your own lips and into your mouth as you opened it in pain and shock.

You weren't ready and neither, it seemed, was Eddie.

It only took seconds of the rough uncontrolled fucking before instinct kicked in and you shouted. Your hands grabbed him and your body channeled the surrounding flames of the half-dead votives to burn deep into his skin and the meat of his shoulders.

He pulled out and away from you with a cry that echoed yours; his wings propelled him backwards and across the chapel instantly, where he crashed into the pews and crushed them.

There was a beat of tense silence, as you collected yourselves, and then you stared at each other in shock.

"What was that?" you asked in tandem.

You wrenched your eyes shut even further, brow furrowed in concentration, and dug deep to try and channel the healing energies within. The flesh of your sides and your palm began to knit back together, any bruising and internal injury healed instantaneously, and the bleeding of the bites sluggishly stopped.

But the bite wounds themselves remained, just as all of the bites you'd endured remained; healing at a glacial pace. And that worried you more than any of the injuries you'd sustained, or how they came about.

You took a few deep breaths and returned to the present, opening your eyes to find Eddie's concerned and guilt-ridden face before you. You startled, and so did he, but you shushed him as the apologies fell from his lips and bloody tears began to leak from his eyes.

"Sweetheart, please," he stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I didn't know, I didn't realize."

"It's...it's ok," you nodded.

"It isn't," he shook his head. "I hurt you. I'm a beast, I'm a monster." His clawed hands came up and his fingers buried into his hair.

"Stop," you shushed him and grabbed his wrists to try and get him to let go. "Stop it. You're not."

"I am."

"You didn't know," you told him.

"I knew I could hurt you if I wasn't careful and I did it anyway."

"And I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm made of tougher stuff. And you stopped; I was hurt and you stopped. A monster wouldn't stop when they hurt someone."

His chest heaved but he nodded and let you pull his hands away and into yours, held tenderly between you.

"You drank my blood Eddie," you reminded him. "Blood shed for the forgiveness of your sins. Now and forever. It'll be ok. We'll be ok."

Your gaze shifted from his eyes to his shoulders then, to the shape of your hands burned onto his skin.

"Besides I hurt you too," you muttered with a tense smile. "So I guess we're even here. Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"They'll heal; it doesn't matter."

"Do you know how to heal yourself?" you asked. "Or does it just happen?"

Eddie was silent.

"Let me heal you then," you told him softly. "It'll go much faster."

You held his clawed hands tightly in your smaller ones and instructed him to close his eyes. You felt a brief and sudden doubt; he wasn't human anymore, not entirely, would it be any different?

What if it didn't work?

If you were going to fix this momentary hiccup, if you were going to fix all of him, you at least needed to try.

"Do you feel me?" you asked him. "Do you...feel my presence here?"

"I do," he nodded, and then his mouth quirked in a smile. "Your light."

"Good," you nodded and shifted closer. You closed your eyes and reached out to feel him too. "Do you feel us together?"

"Hmmm, yeah."

"That means you can feel yourself. Shut up, I can hear you laughing."

"Means I'm not upset anymore," he argued.

He had a point, still you weren't going to let it go.

"When you resurrected..." you hesitated.

"My brides."

"I'm not calling them that." you scoffed. "When you resurrected Max...what did you feel? Did you feel her light? And yours?"

"I did." He snorted. "It was silly. I imagined a pitcher pouring into a cup."

"That's a good way to think about it," you encouraged him. "Healing is such...a special act of goodness, act of light and love. When you...resurrect someone, you take part of yourself and you use it to spark the light in them. It's like...jumpstarting your car though. All the parts need to work right if you're gonna bring someone back. Their body. Their soul. Otherwise...otherwise it's like they're driving around without a windshield."

"Like the Marquis."

"Focus Eddie."

"Sorry."

"To heal someone, like I'm about to do to you though...it's easier...and it isn't. You just...shine your light on them. It fills them, warms them. You share a part of yourself with them, like sharing a blanket. There's a hole in them--"

"I think there's a few holes."

"Alright you're fine then." You tried to pull away from him but he gripped your hands tighter and pulled you closer again, practically onto his lap. "You gonna interrupt me again?"

"No, I promise."

You loosened one hand from his grasp and, on instinct, laid it over the burned handprint on his shoulder.

"When you're hurt, there's a hole that needs to be patched up. And your body can heal in time, but sometimes it's easier for someone to pour their light into you."

Just like you had with Mary Victoria the previous day, you willed the light inside to stir, to pour into Eddie, and to heal the burns. You opened your eyes and released his shoulder, and the burn was gone, the skin pristine, save for the scars that had already been there.

"There," you announced with a smile. Eddie opened his eyes and stared at you. "How does it feel?"

He inhaled deeply.

"You..." his eyebrows knit together. "You feel...I still feel you."

"I'm sure. It'll linger for a while."

"But I feel that way whenever I'm with you," he continued. "I think I've always felt that way with you, even when you weren't next to me, when you left...when I was still alive. When I was still me. And when you...when you left the other day and you went back to Hawkins...I needed you...I was desperate for you."

"I thought you said I've always been there with you," you reminded him.

"This is different," he whispered as softly as he could, and it came out as a rasp. "I need you more than anything now. I feel like I'm empty. And I need you to fill me back up."

Your breath hitched as you thought about the weight of the Upside Down and the hollow feeling; was that what he felt too? And you lessened that feeling for him, just as he had done for you?

Yes. That must be it.

"I need you too Eddie," you agreed. "In whatever way, shape, or form I can get you. Man...or monster, I need you."

He leaned closer, pulled you closer too, pulled you to straddle his lap. He watched you, you assumed, to see if you would flinch or push him away. But you never pushed him away.

You let him take your lips with his, let him kiss you, let his claws rasp along your skin again, trace along the very spots that he had pierced. You let him maneuver you, drag your center along his length to get you both ready for this connection once again.

This union.

This promise.

Just like the promises you had made since he returned to you; like the promises you made since the moment you met.

He broke your kiss and looked to you for reassurance, for consent, before he pulled you onto him, before you moaned in tandem at the feeling of being joined together once again.

If there was something about Eddie, he was a quick study; the things that had hindered you just moments ago--the sharpness of his claws, the untethered power of his body, the strength of his wings--suddenly became tantamount to your fucking.

He anchored those claws deep into the sturdy softness of your thighs, no vital organs at risk; his long arms wrapped around you so you'd feel safe in his embrace despite the ever-present sting as he maneuvered you up and down his shaft at a steady pace.

When he grew bold, he used those wings to propel you both forward, back to the altar, to cradle you in the soft safety of the nested blanket and pillows. He used the strength that this body belied to drive himself home within you over and over, twisted and contorted his body to bring you to the height of your pleasure repeatedly.

All the while he vowed to give you his sweet devotion.

Words spoken in hushed tones and then desperate shouts and then world-altering roars as his teeth snapped just inches from your face.

But there was no danger, no fear, no doubt.

Only love and worship and reverence and awe.

And then the moment came where you and Eddie reached the peak of your bliss, and your bodies ceased to exist. The moment where, in one instance he stilled deep within you and you clenched around him, and then next your beings melted together in a whining, chittering, quivering mess of light and being and consciousness.

When you returned to the universe, renewed once again by the presence of one another, Eddie fed from you again, from your wrist this time. He didn't even have to ask; you hues knew. You sensed that need within him, a hunger you wished to satiate, and you urged him to take what he needed.

It was the gentlest that he had ever bitten you; you barely felt a thing. Until he pulled away and you saw the matching, gaping, red wounds of your wrist and his mouth.

You pulled him to lay against you, and you carded your fingers through his hair as he thanked you repeatedly, whispered and kissed his gratitude against the skin of your chest.

You realized, as sleep began to overcome you, that something was different now, and you wondered if you had even descended from the height of your climax yet. Or if you were still there in the afterglow.

And if you were, was Eddie still with you?

Then you had another thought.

Was this what being normal felt like? Was this the outcome of his forgiveness? Had he really broken the curse?

You closed your eyes and figured that you might never know, might never make it to Heaven.

But this moment here, with Eddie, was the closest you would ever get.

And it would be enough.

It was a dance.

Quite literally.

A dance with Eddie. Just you and him in this place deep and dark and hidden from the rest of the world.

Well alright, that was not quite the truth, not when there were thousands of glowing eyes and glinting claws and mouths dripping with hunger along the perimeter of the room. But it might as well be just the two of you; your love was enough to protect you. They didn't dare cross the veil of security while his hand held yours and you circled one another.

No music could be heard, no rhythm to speak of.

Just you and him. Jumping and head banging and twirling. He spun you, dipped you. Made a joke for you to dip him too, which caused you both to tumble to the ground in a fit of laughter.

Unadulterated joy.

You felt whole. Healed. Complete.

And you knew he felt the same.

This was where you belonged. Together.

"Let's try a waltz," he suggested.

"I don't know how to waltz, how do you know how to waltz," you laughed.

"PE, obviously. I can square dance too; you wanna do that instead?"

"No, no, show me how to waltz, Mr. Rochester."

"Gladly, my beloved Jane."

He did some wild and intricate bow, over exaggerated in the way only he could, and all the while you appreciate the sight. Full of life and energy and love, and it glowed from within him, practically illuminating the room.

He took your hand in his, grabbed your waist with the other, and led you with gentle instruction and encouragement. Once you had the steps down, he urged you to move, to spin, to traverse around the room, practically flaunting your invulnerability to the monsters that lay in wait on the outskirts.

Your combined laughter overwhelmed the clicking and hissing from beyond the dark veil.

"Alright, let's try this," Eddie instructed you with a chuckle. "I'm gonna dip you again."

"Oh Jesus ok, I'm not ready for that I don't think," you tried to dissuade him.

"You can't do any worse than Jeff did. Come on."

Unfortunately you did, your combined momentum from a spin was too much, and as Eddie went to dip you, you both fell in a soft pile of limbs and giggles and love. You rested your head back against the cold ground as Eddie rolled to the side, and when you opened your eyes you saw it.

A grand mirror, the frame of which was a dull and tarnished gold and layered in vines and slimey excrement. The edges of the reflective glass were scratched, but in the center, there you were.

The laughter and joy died in your throat as you stared at yourself, alone.

No monsters, surely, but no Eddie either.

You felt a familiar panic settle within you as your eyes darted back and forth around the reflection. A familiar hopelessness. And dread filled you because you knew, instinctually, that Eddie was still behind you...but was he?

"Sweetheart what's wrong?" Eddie questioned softly.

What if you turned around and you were alone again?

Lost again?

"Talk to me." You felt his hand on your shoulder, saw the indent of his touch in the reflection...but didn't see him. "What's going on?"

You wrenched your eyes shut as he fully grasped you by the shoulders and hovered over you.

"C'mon baby please," he sounded desperate. "What's wrong? Nothing's gonna happen. It'll be ok. I promised you, I'm here, it's gonna be alright. Trust me. Have faith in me."

Faith.

Was this a test of your faith? A test full of temptation? You taking the place of Orpheus as you sought safety in this underworld? And Eddie your Eurydice, continued existence hinging on that fragile string of faith?

But you knew deep in your heart, if you didn't have faith in anything else, you could have faith in him.

You slowly opened your eyes.

And witnessed a terrible sight.

Eddie, your Eddie, your soul and your salvation.

Broken.

Bleeding gashes on both sides of his neck, a slash on his wrist, a tear in the side of his shirt revealing a terrible wound, and lips that bubbled with blood.

"There you go," he muttered as though nothing was wrong. As though there were no droplets spattering onto your face as he spoke. "There's my girl."

You screamed.

"But if you bite and devour one another, watch out, or you will be consumed by one another.” - Galatians 5:1

Next Chapter: Chapter 7 - Exodus

[sanguinaryclaws]

WELCOME !¡

[pt: welcome. end pt]

Hi! you can call us Gore or Visceral, we use any pronouns (and neos) but always ask. Our collective gender is transmascfem and sexuality is omnigay, quoiromantic and ambi, the body is latino. We are 21 years old and are a C-DID system! We are nonhuman heavy and believe most of our nonhumanity is because of neurodivergency but some believe is past lives.

This is a sideblog, I interact from @sanguinaryfreaks

Alterhuman identities: Vampire, Dragon(s), Ghoul

Endelic / Obtruhuman identities: Zombie, Demon

Therian identities: Tiger, Bunny

DO NOT INTERACT

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Basic DNI criteria (homophobic, transphobic, racist, etc)

Transmeds, radqueers, etc, etc

SH, ED or gore blogs

Pro endos, tulpas, endos or any kind of non traumagenic system and their supporters

Pro/comshippers and shipcourse in general

Sexualize age or pet regression

Anti-xenogenders, anti-neopronouns, anti-therian, anti-otherkin

TransID, or supports TransID, TransRAMCOA, etc.

Belive in cluster b abuse or any disordered abuse

Pro-contact / anti-recovery paraphilias

Anti good faith identities / "contradictory" labels, including mspec lesbians / gays (neutrals or without opinion are okay)

Empty accounts

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW

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We don't mind minors following us and interacting with us, we know how to act around them and don't be a complete asshole

We have our own complex opinions on endos, depending on the alter and the day we might accept neutrals to follow and interact but don't bring endos/pro endos to our account

Please don't try to start fights with us, we will just block you and ignore whatever you sent us, this is our safe space, please respect that

We call ourselves freaks (because we can and we want), if you don't like this fuck off, we don't care

Interests and more

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Special interests: Psychology, system terms, xenogenders, Simply Plural, art in general, horror in general, etc.

Collective interests: Honkai Star Rail, Wuthering Waves, Death Mark, Danganronpa, CoTL, Red Dead Redemption 2, My Little Pony, Fear and Hunger.

Tagging system

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#me for real — our kin types

Extra:

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system account - @sanguinaryfreaks

[canmom]

i was a very online teenager. i struggled with in-person interpersonal relationships and spent a lot of time on a much less sanded down internet than the one we have today. and my peers at school were on that same internet.

so of course i saw porn of various kinds, from goofy flash videos to the standard catalogue of shock images (goatse, meatspin etc.). like most kids my age, we took it mostly as a big joke. it was exciting mostly only because it was forbidden, like swearing. so people would talk about something like 2girls1cup, and whether you'd seen it, in much the same way you'd talk about having seen gory shock horror films like Saw. none of this was particularly upsetting or shocking. (i found gore way more discomforting, in general.)

even so, the whole environment was rife with repression. and frankly, 'imply someone is gay' ('batty boy' is one especially goofy slur i remember) being a default category of joke did way more damage than knowing some people are into scat or playing a flash game where you can see a drawing of some boobs. implicitly sexual insults would be common, often playing on someone's naivete. i got very used to 'do you have ginger pubes'. tricking someone into saying something 'sexual' without understanding, and then laughing at them, was another one - i suppose it functioned a way of showing your proximity to the mysterious adult world of knowing about sex.

so after a few years of that, i went through a whole period of just... trying to distance myself from having anything to do with sex. we didn't have 'asexuality' language back then, but i probably would have jumped on it if it had been available. 'sex is gross' was the only frame i had to distance myself from how my classmates talked about sexuality, because i didn't have a handle on what was really up, just that i didn't like it. projecting 'i am above it all and find it disgusting' was a form of armour that calcified around me and ultimately did tons of damage to my ability to understand my own feelings. as i got older, this got mixed up in the moralistic rhetoric of online 'social justice'.

when i got to university and finally started to knock down that wall, i had to speedrun figuring out "how to do relationship". (i dived into polyamory head first, and of course that all went as badly as first relationships usually do.) it's been messy.

i reckon if i'd been willing to approach subcultures as a teenager that had given more room to experiment with like, desire and expression and so on... like if i hadn't let the background contempt get under my skin, for the emos and furries and whatever other 'having too much of the wrong kind of fun' social group we were all supposed to hate... i would probably have been a lot happier! if i'd had any out gay people around me before age 17!

the idea of trying to make sure people never see anything ever related to sex until they're 18, outside of whatever the government deigns to allow to be said in sex ed class, is so hopelessly arse-backwards. it's not going to work - a generation that grew up on the internet is going to be way better at getting to what they want to see than the censors are at blocking it, so the main function of the censorship is to reinforce the idea that they're looking at something shameful and secret. it's not going to protect kids - if anything i suspect it's going to make them more vulnerable to exploitation and mistreatment, either by adults who can offer 'access to the forbidden secrets of sexuality', or by their peers by producing this dumbass hierarchy. and tbh i think knowing about all the weird fetishes there are in the world is actually a really beneficial thing, in the same category of 'seeing your grandma's tits at the spa'.

unless, i guess, what you really want to do is teach everyone how to bypass censorship and distrust authority figures? i think there might be better ways to do that, though!

[cipheramnesia]

Today I am asking myself why do I like Terrifier and Terrifier 2. There doesn't have to be a reason for it, and I struggle to find any merit to them other than the dubious quality, inventiveness, and excess of the gore and violence. Maybe that's it, and probably that is literally all there is to the movies - fans all say as much. And if your only thoughts on Terrifier are "I hate that shitty movie," honestly that's fair, more than reasonable, but this post isn't for you so kindly skip along by.

But also the movies don't hit for me in the same way as a bloody rollercoaster ride movie does. For some reason I am unable to comprehend, my mind is insisting the movies are good on an artistic level - my brain insists there is artistic merit, although it steadfastly refuses to disclose what that might be. This isn't an endorsement, by the by, the Terrifier movies are extreme in a way apart from even the French Extremity movement or the whole torture trap Saw era from the USA.

Although in some ways that may be a part of what makes the movies something more than graphic violence alone. They are unpleasant in a way that is malicious - a naked cruelty which in a perverse way is a form of open honesty speaking to truth. There is no detachment from the violence, no easy way to disconnect from it as some sort of mechanical function or take it in as a part of a story. Art the Clown embodies such a totality of unrelenting and unchecked cruelty that it comes around as confusingly refreshing, because it is so rare for any media to be so graphically violent without attempting some framing of the harm - even if only as a plot point. It's masochistic to watch but in a more literal kink way. The Terrifier movies are a safe space to engage with senseless violence and cruelty, to experience the emotional impact of the idea of an uncaring world design only to cause pain, and then to be able to safely leave this mental space physically intact, better equipped for the real world which by nature is not nearly so malicious as Terrifier. Cathartic in the same way as it can be to get whipped or beaten, followed by care and caressing. Maybe.

All that under consideration, a throwaway line from a review has raised a second consideration for me: Are these movies camp? They are wildly exaggerated performances which incorporate large amounts of generally discarded pop culture on purpose. They deliberately incorporate the cheap aesthetics of low budget video nasties, grindhouse movies, and direct to video 80s horror. Everything about Art the Clown and his violent acts is severely over the top from his facial features to his makeup to his mannerisms which are those of a mime rather than a clown. I think it's arguable that the Terrifier movies go beyond simply utilizing a retro aesthetic into performing a kind of horror drag - dressing up in the clothes of the 70s-80s but elevating the content into a hyper-grotesque persona that's almost like everything the film censors and critics from that era thought such movies actually were. It's a movie that purposefully becomes the kind of monster conservatives always imagine about horror, just to throw that right in their face. It is, I think, very arguably camp in how much it is purposefully over the top and self-indulgent about what the vast majority of people would (often rightly) dismiss as artless trash.

Which leads me back around to asking myself if I truly believe what I've written, or if I'm merely trying to find an internal and artistic justification for liking violent and misogynistic horror flicks with nothing of else of substance.