AN: *Sneakily appears from the void to post a new story whilst ignoring all wip*. Hello, friends! Welcome to the funhouse. Just a few important things to keep in mind before reading this:

1. This is all vibes. I cannot and will not promise good writing, just vibes. This is just meant to be fun for me.

2. This is not crack, but it might come close in some cases.

3. More notes at the bottom. Please always read the AN's. Sometimes they're just nonsense, but other times they're important. Better to be safe.

Dear Readers,

You do not know me, and I don't know you, but we are about to embark upon a perilous journey together, in which I heroically face death every day of my life at the hands of none other than a grumpy, but incredibly talented, demonic, victorian, Butler.

Sebastian Michaelis.

Stupid name, honestly. But he is effective, i'll give him that.

My story is a complicated one, dear readers, for you see, I am a girl displaced in time. One day I was peacefully running my (very legitimate) teashop in a (legally) rented out shop space in Greenwich, minding my own business. The next, I am (of no fault of my own) being targeted by demonic cultists who want to sacrifice me to summon a demon.

It was through that encounter I somehow ended up outside London in the year 1889. If that seems difficult to believe, trust me, it was even more difficult to live. But, i'm getting ahead of myself. You don't even know anything about me. Dear readers, may I introduce myself to you for I am-

"Welcome to Arcane Teashop! I'm Syd, what can I help you find today?" The words slipped from her tongue with the practiced ease of a person whose repeated them countless times. The bell above the shop's door gave a small 'ting' sound every time it was opened, forcing the regular old spiel out with it.

The shop was not so fancy, though Syd liked to think she'd made it look nice enough. There were dark blue couches sitting by the windows next to the door, exposing the busy New York streets to the eyes of her customers. In front of them were small, circular wood tables which were littered with cup stains, where careless customers had ignored her reminder to use the fucking coasters-

The flooring is hardwood, creaky but sturdy. The walls had the ugliest red patterned wallpaper that she would've torn down in a heartbeat if the building's owner hadn't threatened to kick her out if she touched it. There was a bookshelf to the right, crammed with all sorts of bullshit about the occult, the supernatural, and metaphysical ideology. There were, of course, several books on the magical properties of tea.

To the left were the shelves upon shelves of different teas. Some were personally crafted and put together, while others were shipped to the store and sold as is. They were all high quality, despite the (somewhat) scammy nature of her business.

"Syd, it's good to see you," Jacob was a regular customer. Tall and lean, with pretty blue eyes and a killer smile, Syd wasn't quite sure if he actually liked the tea she sold or if he simply liked her. Not that she minded. She was sort of partial to him as well. He flirted with her, complimented her, and always left at least twenty dollars poorer than when he entered.

"Well, well, my favorite customer," She purred teasingly, a feline smile curling up the corners of her mouth. Jacob laughed, scratching the back of his neck as he approached the counter. "What are you in the market for today?"

"A date, actually?" His eyes turned hopeful, a hesitant blush on his cheeks as he looked at her. "I know it's last minute, but I have a friend's party to attend tonight and I'll be the only guy without a girl on his arm if you don't help me out. Please? I'll buy a bunch of tea," Syd perked up.

"How much tea?" Jacob laughed.

"Three bags?" He offered. Syd narrowed her eyes, and Jacob's smile faltered slightly. "Four?"

"Five, and you've got a deal," She hummed, her eyes already seeing dollar signs.

I'm not entirely sure what it was about me that made Jacob and his little entourage of amateur demon summoners target me. Was it my beauty? My grace? My cleverness? Who's to know for certain. What I do know is my ambitious nature seemed to bite back this time, for I agreed to accompany Jacob to his friend's party. The 'party' turned out to be a sacrificial summoning circle in which I was the sacrifice.

It's safe to say, Jacob is not getting a second date.

"This doesn't look like much of a party," Syd noted. The small, almost derelict house in the outskirts of the city didn't seem to be filled with much life at all. Sure, there were a few cars outside on the curb and in the driveway, but there was a singular light on and there was no music or socializing to be heard. Furthermore, Jacob was starting to get antsy. He couldn't seem to keep still, and his hands were practically trembling. He tried to hide them by stuffing them in his coat pockets.

"Oh it's just that everyone is downstairs," Jacob explained, a quiver in his tone. Syd looked him up and down, and took a step back.

"Right," She answered, pulling her purse off her shoulder and beginning to seek out the taser she kept hidden at the bottom.

"What are you doing?" Jacob stuttered.

"Looking for my vape," Her fingers managed to graze the edge of the taser, and then Jacob's hands were upon her. He ripped her purse off her arm and out of her hands, her things all landing on the pavement in a dull thud. Syd went to scream, but then his hand was over his mouth and he was wrapping the other arm around her waist, tugging her against his body and then yanking them both towards the house.

Each step he forced them closer towards the door was a struggle. Fight instincts kicked in, and Syd thrashed and struggled, kicking, hitting, biting, lashing her head back to try and make contact with his. Her elbow made contact with his stomach, and his hold upon her loosened. Hope was crushed the second she took a step towards the street, and two more men ran from the house. Syd released a scream into the deserted street, and then bruising arms were once more wrapped around her, shoving her back towards the house.

"You said she was an idiot," One of the men hissed to Jacob, as they struggled to pull her through the door. Syd kicked out, making contact with one of the stranger's ankles. His leg buckled briefly, but he managed to keep a hold on her.

"She is," Jacob gasped, still struggling to catch his breath. "Always give me this dopey smile, twirls her hair, and giggles whenever I enter the shop," If Syd weren't so busy fighting for her life, she might've retorted that her 'dopey' smile and giggling always got Jacob to buy more shit than he originally intended. Although, considering where she is now, perhaps he always had an ulterior motive.

She can't believe she's getting kidnapped by a pretty boy named 'Jacob'. What a way to go, she thinks miserably.

Syd bites the hand over her mouth, and one of the strangers yelps in pain.

"You're the idiots," She hisses, breath ragged. "You have no idea who you're messing with,"

"Shut up, cunt," A fist makes contact with her cheek, rattling her teeth and splitting her lip. Blood dribbles into her mouth, and she has a split second to spit it into the face of the man who just insulted her before another grimy, sweaty hand is covering her mouth.

"Ah, bitch!"

"Hurry up! Quickly, in the basement!" The next few minutes are a haze of fighting limbs and reluctant steps, until she is practically carried down into the basement. Her breaths come as a series of harried gasps, her limbs still primed and agile, ready to fight if she weren't so well-restrained. Downstairs another three men stand, this time wearing black cloaks.

Behind them, in blood red paint, is a sigil drawn across the concrete floor that is unfamiliar, but definitely something cultists would draw. If she had to guess, she's about to be sacrificed to summon a demon. 'Typical,' she thinks, 'it's all this new age spirituality crap. Everyone thinks they can just someone a demon nowadays,'.

"Bind her hands and legs," One of the cloaked men order. Her captors move her closer towards the sigil, and she manages to get her mouth free.

"Cocksuckers!" She screams, lashing out with her legs and managing to hit one in the knee. Another hand quickly finds its way over her mouth.

"And gag her while you're at it,"

Dear readers, not only did they bind my hands and feet, and gag me, but they also forced me to lay prone in the summoning circle where they spoke a bunch of godawful latin, spilled their blood into a cup, and called out to some 'prince of hell' to accept their sacrifice and serve them.

Thank God they didn't think I was a virgin. I had no desire to be the next 'jessica's body'.

Unfortunately, for all my disbelief and distaste for the occultism and mysticism I liked to spew in the teashop, things did start to get pretty freaky after this.

The floorboards were rumbling beneath her. It was as if an earthquake was happening, but Syd could feel deep in her bones that was not the case. She'd never believed in demons and angels and all of that. There were enough real-life monsters to worry about, there was no need to believe in the fake ones. Only, perhaps they weren't fake afterall.

The terrible latin the men around her were pronouncing was quickly being drowned out by a disembodied voice, deep and dark, hollow and husky. It chanted the latin back at them, only this time with correct pronunciation. For the moment, the men around her were distracted by the demonic entity they had managed to summon. Their eyes were not upon her, but she knew any moment now they'd turn their knives upon her and finish their sacrifice.

Most times, Syd lamented her upbringing. Being the heiress to one of America's richest and most influential families had led to many struggles in her childhood, one of which being that this was, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) not the first time someone's attempted to kidnap her. It's not even the first time they've succeeded.

You learn a thing or two, after the first attempt. Like how to undo shoddy rope-tied knots binding your hands and feet. Syd's 'how to get out of being kidnapped' classes with private tutors was always one of her favorite lessons throughout her childhood.

The ropes around her legs and arms were undone and her gag spat out before any of the cultists noticed. The booming dismebodied voice was only growing louder and more prominent, the shadows in the room seeming to dance across the walls.

In her moment of freedom, her eyes do a quick sweep across the room. There are five cultists standing in a circle around her and the sigil. The disembodied voice seems to be coming from everywhere. There is little else in the room besides a scratched up nightstand in the corner of the room and a rolled up rug beside it.

One thing does catch her eye; all of the cultists hold kitchen knives in their grimy hands, first to cut their own wrists, but no doubt to finish the job on her. Besides that, one of them holds the cup of blood, and another holds a ring. She can't make out its details from this far away, but it looks clunky and old, and it is looped through a small silver chain to be worn as a necklace.

The room is loud with the sounds of chanting, but when she focuses on the ring, she hears another type of chanting; it is low and quiet, and she can't understand the language, but it is mesmerizing. She knows that the ring is calling to her.

She is moving before she realizes it. Jumping up from the floor with near unnatural speed, leaping for the cultist with the ring in his hand. Her quick movement finally catches the attention of the cultists, who raise their knives and shout at her. The man she reaches for is caught off guard at her quick movement, holding up his knife a second too late. The chanting, dismebodied voice growls, even as the chanting of the cultists stop. The ring's chanting gets louder, and when her fingers grasp hold of it, it is all she can hear.

And then, there is blinding light.

AN: More notes, because they are important!

1. Mc is slightly unhinged.

2. There may be discussion of triggering topics in this fic, though most of this, again, just vibes.

3. It's funny to me that MC is so wrong about new age mysticism because I am a pagan witch, but also because new age mysticism is very 'love and light' and a lot of them would not be caught dead summoning demons. She really doesn't know her audience that well, haha.

4. On top of triggering topics, because of who I am as a person there will probably be smut. I honestly don't care if gets mad at me but it might mean this story inevitably moves to ao3 or even Wattpad (depending on my mood).

5. Can't make any promises on scheduling, updates, etc., Just take a look at my other fics and you'll see that I'm unreliable at best. But, if you just wanna vibe with me, that's cool.

6. This isn't edited.