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certifiedtrashmouth · 2 years ago

Note

for the spotify wrapped thing - 3? maybe?

TRACK 3 - nothing else i could do by ella jane (steve harrington x gn!reader)

a/n: this is one of the few happy songs i managed to get!!! So here’s some tooth-rotting fluff with none other than steve harrington <3

“and they can dance to the songs, and they can drink all the wine. because the high might be theirs, but all the bottles were mine. ”

You didn’t mean to develop a crush on Steve Harrington. That’s the first thing you need to clarify - it was not meant to happen.

It wasn’t meant to happen the first day you arrived at your new job for training at Scoops Ahoy, nervous and fiddling with the sailor themed uniform you’d been provided with during your initiation. He’d been assigned with your training. And within the first thirty minutes, you could see why - he was good at it. Not just the job, but at making you feel comfortable. He made a million lame jokes, embarrassed himself more times than you could count on one hand, but at the end of the day, your nerves had faded and he was complimenting you, saying you were a ‘natural at scooping’.

It also wasn’t meant to happen the first time he arrived late to a shift with you, causing you to work through a rush completely alone. You had sworn you would curse him out. The newest employee with only a month of experience should not have to handle that many customers on their own. But you did it, with a tight-lipped smile and plenty of fake greetings to the annoying kids that asked for one too many samples. And when he finally arrived nearly an hour late, you’d puffed up your chest, ready to lay it on him, when you caught a good look at him.

Messy hair, curling spontaneously. A boyish grin that screamed apologetic. Puppy dog eyes as he pleaded for your forgiveness at his tardiness. His work shirt was crinkled at the collar, and you caught sight of the expanse of his neck, and all the words died on your tongue. It’s safe to say that Steve never got the reaming he deserved for leaving you high and dry like that. But, he was also never late again. So you let it slide.

It surely wasn’t meant to happen the first time you came in on one of your days off, finding Steve working with one of the only other workers, Robin. Right as you walked in, a group of girls were walking out, giggling to themselves. If you didn’t know better, you’d assumed the giggles were flirtatious.

But you did know better. And Buckley was already taking her marker to her white board that she’d separated into two sections - “You suck” and “You rule” - adding another tally mark placed in the “You suck” portion. You immediately knew the girls weren’t fawning; they were laughing at Steve’s failed attempt at flirting with them.

“God, Harrington, have you considered taking classes in flirting?” Robin had teased him, making his cheeks burn scarlet.

“Like you’re any better! Besides, that one lady gave us a tip after I sweet-talked her. That deserves some recognition!”

“Steve, she was old enough to be your grandmother,” Robin sighs, putting down the board as you approach the two. Her face lights up, and Steve’s back is still to you, “Say, sailor. Maybe you should try your luck one last time.”

You could see the excitement in the way his shoulders lifted, spinning quickly to greet what he thought would be just another customer, “Ahoy, ladies-”

When he saw it was you, he froze. His cheeks burned an even brighter shade of pink as you and Robin had bursted into laughter, and he continued to grumble about how cruel you two were as he served you and handed over your weekly tips you’d come in to pick up.

He didn’t flirt with you that time. But something in you wished that he did. You quickly buried that part of you down deep, ignoring it, because you weren’t supposed to have a crush on Steve Harrington.

It certainly wasn’t meant to happen when the two of you worked endless shifts together. Late summer afternoons started to bleed together, most of them being spent with Steve behind the Scoops counter. It was just you, him, and the ice cream.

“Hey, did you ever try the new flavor?” he asked randomly, already grabbing two sample spoons for the two of you.

You scrunched your face, “What? America’s Birthday Cake? Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It’s good!” He was already holding out a light blue spoon to you, the perfect bite perched on it.

You started to reach out to grab it, but Steve moved faster. Suddenly, the spoon swipes across your cheek, leaving you speechless as icing-flavored ice cream smears on your face.

You gasped, “Steve!”

You quickly reach for his wrist holding his own spoon, grappling with him as you’re both giggling messes, forcing his sample to land on his nose.

“Hey! No fair!” he whines as he pulls the spoon away, the tip of his nose now a brilliant pink.

“Save it, sailor!” you snorted.

When you did finally get a proper taste of the flavor, it was so sweet, it made your teeth ache. You convince yourself that’s what made your stomach churn. The sweetness of the ice cream, certainly not the sweetness in the look Steve gives you as you nod and lie to him that it was a good flavor, singing his praises in his taste. Certainly not the way he looks so proud of himself, nodding and grinning to the ground.

No, Steve Harrington wasn’t allowed to give you a toothache when he grins like a child and his hands brush yours when it gets busier, both reaching for the same scooper handle. That was impossible.

But maybe it was supposed to happen during the shift he asks you to come to his party. The two of you had been busy attempting to make whipped cream bounce off your hands and into your mouths (one too many failed attempts had left you both red in the face. Neither of you were very good at it) in the back room. After an attempt that led to the whipped cream landing in Steve’s hair, you finally called it quits and leaned against the wall, still giggling at the sight of him.

“God,” he sighed, taking a wet paper towel to a curl still coated in cream, “Now I’m going to have to shower when I get home, before the party and everything.”

Your interest piqued, “Party? You’re throwing one of your infamous Harrington bashes?”

He looked confused for a moment, staring at you as if this shouldn’t be news to you. It took him a second before realization settled.

“Shit!” he gasped, “Fuck, I forgot to ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

“To come to my party! Duh,” he walked over, leaning beside you, his shoulder pressed to yours.

“You want me, your coworker, to come to your party tonight?” you asked, bewildered eyes gazing up into his shining ones.

“Coworker? Ouch. I was sure we were friends after I gave you a ride home that one day.”

Your eyes widened, quick to take back your words, “No, no, no!” Your face colors red in embarrassment, stumbling over your sentences, “I mean, shit, yes- We are friends! We can be friends, if that’s what you want.”

“Good,” he nodded, “So, I’ll see you tonight?”

And maybe, just maybe, it was supposed to happen when you showed up to that party. It hadn’t been quite as boisterous as the ones he’d thrown in high school, but it was still in full swing as you entered through the front door and navigated the sea of bodies to find the kitchen. The music was loud, bass thumping so hard you felt it in your chest. Everyone was already clearly drunk, empty beer bottles littering the counters and enough red cups in sight, it was dizzying.

You were only on your second drink when Steve found you.

“You made it!” he cheered, quick to come up in front of you, throwing an arm over your shoulder with a smile shining as it always did.

“I did,” you nodded, waving your hands out for emphasis, “Almost got lost, though. Why do you live in the middle of nowhere?”

“To throw raging parties, obviously.”

“Are you already drunk?”

“No. I was waiting for you.”

His cheeks were pink, but you couldn’t make out the reasoning if you even tried. It could have been from alcohol, it could have been from how hot the filled house was, or it could have been from the way you were looking at him. Your eyes grazed over him, taking in his outfit that was very different from the usual Scoops uniform. He’d turned in the blue shorts for blue jeans that were snug, and wore a collared shirt with the top buttons left open. His chest hair was peaking out ever so slightly.

Without his hat, his hair was wild and lucious. He clearly had showered as he had mentioned, and you wondered if the waves would be soft between your fingers if you ran your hand through them.

Maybe you did have a crush on Steve Harrington.

And maybe, everything was happening as it should when he finally pulled you out to his backyard after an hour spent dancing and mingling with his friends. He wasn’t drunk - he promised you. You watched the entire night as he didn’t touch a single ounce of alcohol. At some point, you even put aside your own red cup. Steve’s aura and energy was making you feel drunk enough as it was, each lingering yet accidental touch sending you spiraling. The two of you even ran into Robin at some point, and you didn’t miss the look she sent him when she caught him dragging you out his back door.

The night air was refreshing, slightly chilled, as the two of you shared one of the pool loungers.

“So, thoughts?” he finally asked, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

“On your house, or your party?” you laughed softly under your breath.

You two were impossibly close, thighs pressed together as you watched the wind send ripples through his pool.

“Both, I guess? Or just the night in general,” he shrugged. You could smell his cologne, still lasting despite how sweaty the fun of the night had left both of you. It was something airy, something clean, something light.

Something intoxicating and oh so right.

“It’s nice. Everyone was right, you do know how to throw a party,” you answered honestly. You hadn’t gone to many parties in your high school career, but none of them had ever been this fun.

His shoulders relaxed with relief, “Good to hear. I wasn’t really sure if you were the partying type, you know?”

“Oh, I’m not,” you waved a hand, and he turned to you immediately, looking dazzled.

“So why’d you come?”

Maybe it was the one or two beers you’d had, a sort of liquid confidence. Or maybe it was the accumulation of the last three months.

But you don’t hesitate to answer him with the whole truth, “You.”

There it is again. His boyish grin. The proximity suddenly became stifling.

“Me?” he echoed, and if it wasn’t for the blue reflection from the water, you were sure you’d catch the grin spreading over his face like wildfire.

“You,” you said once more, bated breath as you both lean in closer.

His hand landed on your thigh, stagnant as you stared at each other for a second.

“I really want to kiss you,” he suddenly sighed, and you could feel his breath on your cheek, “Can I kiss you?”

A flutter in your chest, one you can’t excuse for anything except the gorgeous boy in front of you.

“Please,” you begged, as if there was any other answer. There wasn’t - not after afternoons filled with inside jokes and chilled noses, with toothaches and blushing cheeks.

The word has barely left your mouth before his lips are on yours, gentle at first. But when your hands came up and tugged at his hair, finding you were right in just how soft the locks were, he deepened the kiss.

The two of you only broke apart when there was a loud knocking against the glass door behind the two of you. When you turn, you find Robin Buckley grinning wildly, giving two thumbs up.

“God, Buckley has awful timing,” you groaned, still smiling despite the faux annoyance.

“She does,” he brought a hand up to your cheek, turning it carefully to face him one more, “But I owe her. This was her idea.”

“Her idea? To kiss me?”

“No. To throw a party, and invite you,” he corrected.

A flame burning in the pit of your stomach, excitement licking up your throat as you watched his shyness get the best of him.

“You threw a party just so I would come?”

He scoffed, throwing a quick glance towards his bustling house, nothing more than mere white noise now, “Yeah. Can I be honest? I don’t even like half the people in there. But I didn’t know how else to see you outside of work.”

You grinned and pulled him in for a second kiss wordlessly, cupping his cheeks endearingly.

“You know,” you broke away from him for a second, pressing your foreheads together, “You could have just asked me on a date.”

The normally flirtatious attitude has evaporated, and in it’s place sits a vulnerable Steve Harrington. “Would you have said yes?”

“Why don’t you find out now?”

Another kiss, shorter this time, but savored as if it would be the last. It wouldn’t be - you knew now that you’d had a taste, you’d never be satisfied.

“Okay,” he laughed breathlessly, pulling back reluctantly, “Okay. How about Sunday? Me, you, and that new movie showing at the drive-in.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think about it, “Depends. Are you paying?”

“Of course.”

“And can we get popcorn?”

“Of course.”

“What about Junior Mints?”

Steve groaned at that, settling an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tightly into his side, “You know what? I think I take it back. I’ll find some other cutie who works at an ice cream shop to take to the drive in.”

You gasped, slapping his chest, “You wouldn’t! No take-backs.”

You were right, though - he wouldn’t. He only had his sights on one person you could make a sailor outfit look that good: you.

The next shift Steve has, you come in to visit, to find a new tally mark on the whiteboard Robin’s holding.

For the first time, the clean, black mark is placed under “You Rule”.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #asks #thank u ily #spotify wrapped writing

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space-blue · 11 months ago

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may we know what is the crumbs 3 wip? 👀

Aha! It's the 3rd chapter of the fic A Trail Of Crumbs whose concept I adore but fell out of love with when I stumbled out of the Avatar fandom.

It follows Recom Miles Quaritch after the events of the film, lone survivor back on base and wrestling with the increasing dread brought about by a series of 'crumbs' he picks up on over time. RDA staff say and do weird things. The way he's treated seems odd. Ah, and his fucking custom watch. The tattoos they all have... Stuff doesn't really add up.

The goal of the fic was to explore the nature of the 'soul drives', how edited recom memories are, and the growing realisation that Miles isn't anywhere near his old human self, not any more than any other Marine with a similar background.

It was pure vibes of Blade Runner, artificial memories, created as a sentient tool unaware of their own artificiality beyond the obvious, etc.

In the end, I think I explored the concept better in this short comic in Mansk POV.

Chapter 3 crumbs is the incomplete conversation between Aslan and Miles, hinting at past Miles/Parker Selfridge. I stuck to dialogue only towards the end so it grows barebones, but I'll put what I have under the cut for the curious because I honestly don't think I'll finish this unless Avatar 3 makes me its bitch again.

'Why did you come back to Pandora?'

'Well, we landed in fanfare, as you can imagine.'

Yes, Miles can well imagine the media shit-storm so politely labelled fanfare. There's a part of him he's not particularly proud of that is glad his own death allowed him to skip this particular shitshow. He'd been, after all, the man in charge of operations at the time. Had pulled rank and everything. The media would have vivisected his career, his entire being. It's unlikely to have been much kinder to other RDA personal, returning with their tails between their legs.

'And in the middle of all this, my family...' Aslan gnaws on their lip, their faraway look snapping back to Miles with sudden intensity. 'We weren't really friends, you and I. You weren't one to hang out with the "science pukes", right? You'd know about my family if you had. I used to complain quite vocally whenever I got a comm from them. The old vent, you know. Anyway, let's say they were there, at the landing pad, waiting for me. In the middle of all that... fanfare.'

They look through the blinds, over the blighted landscape of concrete and metal, crawling with bots and shivering with heat and ship exhaust fumes.

'I signed up for the next mission over.'

Miles nods politely. He knows the type of family they're alluding to. He's met people who worked on the Mars terraforming program off world, because restoring Uganda's water table wasn't far enough of a getaway. Pandora's one of the furthest frontiers known to mankind. Different appeal to the science pukes, who generally arrive thrilled to go pull up grass, but dysfunctional families are universal, and to many RDA workers, the distance is a bonus.

He goes to say some platitude, that he understands, because really, he does. But Aslan cuts him off with a sharp hand gesture.

'Can we cut the crap, General? I mean Miles. You're not interested in my family, and you're keeping me away from the deeply fascinating samples I've come all the way here to put under a microscope, so let's just talk.'

Miles is struck by the sudden realisation that he's got no easy segway ready to start on the whole RDA conspiracy thing. He turns a few sentences over in his mind, growing discomfort flattening his ears to his skull. Should he threaten Aslan? Ask plainly? He's burning to cut the crap, as asked. But Aslan is also the one who'd gone to great pains to arrange a believable meeting between them, who'd seeded fear into his mind.

The manual had held no hint when he consulted it. The term soul drive had an asterix to an appendix that wasn't in the book.

'Something bothering you?'

Miles smiles tightly. 'You can tell?'

'You have a long way to go before you obtain a Na'vi poker face. I suggest you stay away from the Thursday games.'

To hell with it. It's not like he expects he'll make it past the court martial, the way things are going.

'Why do your people tattoo us?'

'You flatter me if you think me this involved, but that happens on the ship over, with a crew well out of my jurisdiction.'

A deflection. He'll be damned. 'I'd appreciate an answer,' he says, putting steel into his voice. 'Of the straight kind, too, if you can manage those.'

'A jab at my sexuality? Too easy. Is the tattooing what's bothering you? Really?' Aslan's smile is knowing, the light in their eyes dances with unwholesome mischief.

'Let's say that I've tried and failed to find a better starting point.'

'All right then. Let's do a short test. Answer my questions fast and truthfully.'

Miles relaxes. 'Sure.'

'Year of birth?'

'2104.'

'Do you have a son?'

'...Yes.'

'What was his mother's name?'

'Paz Socorro.'

'What year was she born?'

'I...'

'Am not sure?'

'I don't think we discussed it, but��'

'You had her file. She was one of yours, wasn't she? Surely you remember how old she was?'

'I think—'

But Aslan doesn't let him catch his breath. 'Who was Parker Selfridge to you?'

Miles sits straight, ears point to attention now. Will Aslan also reek of fear if he answers 'friend', no matter how much of an overstatement the word might feel? Heck, they asked for fast answers, so he says, 'He wasn't exactly my boss, but he was the Head suit in charge.'

'I need an honest answer,' they say, rasping a knuckle on the table.

Miles has his jaw hanging. What do they want from him?

'Do you recall leaning in his doorway?' Aslan continues, hardly slowing down. 'Poring over maps together?'

'Well, we...'

'Do you remember the way he laughed at your jokes? You leaned into the corny dad humour and he loved it. Do you remember your mug?'

'Yes.'

'Do you remember how you got it?'

'...Selfridge? Wasn't it Paz?'

'That's a question, so I'll take it as a no. Moving on to—'

'All right, all right. You've made your point.'

'What point do you think this is?'

'My memories are incomplete.'

'No, Miles.' Aslan sighs and sinks into their chair. 'Your memories are edited.'

It's somewhat depressing that of all the emotions he feels in that moment, surprise is not one of them

'Look at it this way. The machine scours your neural pathworks, and bounces memories. But it can't recreate the events that got you there, and it can't recreate what you blocked even from your own wakeful memory. Things you've forgotten, things you've hidden under too many layers, things you've trained to look away from.'

'So we're missing chunks?'

'Yes, all soul drives are inherently incomplete. That's why the technology isn't widespread. But that's not it. When you're in the machine, they can trigger memory chains. It helps map out... Look, it's hard to simplify, especially since it's not my specialty either, but they can snip out entire sections, like cauterizing a thought beyond surface level, or blot out all emotional reactions to a concept.'

'Are you saying... Do you actually mean the RDA edited the story of my life like a fucking home movie?'

They shrug. 'Yeah. That's the gist of it.'

'That in the contract I signed?'

'Of course not. Come on, colonel, you worked private long enough to have seen this coming. What? Do you think they'd give a fuck if you had issues with your situation?'

Miles rubs a shaky hand over his eyes, trying his best to remember the sound of Parker's laugh. 'Are you— Are you saying Selfridge and I were close—'

'Close is a good euphemism.'

'—and they erased so much of it, I freaked the shrink out by referring to him as a friend?'

Aslan tuts. 'Bad move.'

Miles gives them a sickly sweet smile. 'What a shame nobody warned me about the nature of this assessment!'

#fic #trail of crumbs #avatar #atwow #avatar 2 #miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #answered #anon ask #wip ask game #thanks for the ask anon!#sorry for the info dumb if you're not avatar pilled

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krizaland · 2 years ago

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Hellfire Magolor and Hyness x Reader.

Hey y’all! So I really wanted to write a Magolor x reader and this idea hit me like a truck.

Be warned: There is religious mentions throughout the story as well as death threats and mentions of burning.

Here’s the song I used

It was a bright and sunny morning as you helped Magolor open Merry MagoLand for the day.

“Are you sure everyone will like my magic act?” You asked nervously as you put your costume on.

“Of course they will, my love! You’re a natural! There’s no one more suited for the job than you! Well except yours truly of course!” Magolor giggled as he gestured to himself.

You couldn’t help but giggle along with him.

Magolor was just too cute sometimes!

“Thanks for the pep talk, babe!”

And with that, Merry MagoLand was open for another day of business.

Customers from all across Popstar came pouring in to try their luck at the games, ride the rides, and sample the delicious food.

However, deep within the sea of people, lurked Hyness and the three mage sisters.

“Remind me again, why are we wasting our time with this theme park?” Flamberge grumbled.

“Because this place makes a mockery of the Jambastion! A place made took look like the ancients built it?! Blasphemous! It must be shut down!” Hyness ranted as he gestured for the sisters to follow him.

Francisca couldn’t help but admire all of the beautiful attractions surrounding her.

“Francisca! Don’t get distracted! This place is sinful remember?” Zan Partizanne snapped.

Francisca jolted back to reality and quickly caught up to her sisters.

Just as Hyness and the mages were about to reach Magolor’s desk-

“Attention all Merry MagoLand guests! Gather in the plaza to watch the amazing Y/N’s magic show!”

Magolor’s announcement almost made Hyness jump out of his hood.

“Juh?! Magic show?! First this jamblasted place makes a mockery of the hard work of the ancients! Now they insult their magic?! This cannot stand!”

With a loud growl, Hyness gestured for the mage sisters to follow him to the plaza.

Sure enough, there was a large, colorful stage in the middle of the plaza.

Hyness was about to jump on stage when-

“Welcome one and all! Welcome to The Amazing Y/N’s Magic Show!”

Your voice rung out like a bell as the curtains swooped open.

Hyness’s jaw nearly hit the ground!

From your beautiful eyes to your playful smile, you were breathtaking to say the least.

The three mage sisters exchanged worried glances.

“Lord Hyness, are you alright?” Zan Partizanne asked gently.

Before Hyness could answer, your voice rung out again.

“For my first trick, I need a volunteer!”

You hummed for a moment before spotting Hyness in the crowd.

“You there! In the white hood!”

Hyness let out a startled squeak.

“C’mon up!”

Before Hyness could react, you were already helping him climb on stage.

“Now then, what is your name, friend?” You asked as you held the microphone to Hyness’s face.

“Juh-” -Hyness shook away his shock- “-I-I am the great Lord Hyness of the Jambastion! I have come to put an end to your blasphemous sinning!”

The crowd gasped in unison as you gave Hyness a startled look.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Do not play dumb with me! You and this jamblasted place are making a mockery of the ancients! Magic is not something to be shown off like a jawaii little toy! It is a scared practice! A scared practice that you are now tarnishing!” Hyness’s words flew out a mile a minute as he waved his arms around.

You could barely understand a word he said but you could tell he was furious.

You were about to try to deescalate the situation but Magolor came to save the day.

“I’m sorry, what seems to be the problem here?”

Hyness continued to rant and rave a mile a minute and flail about.

“Woah! Slow down there! What are you going on about?” Magolor asked as he held his hands out defensively.

Hyness let out a loud shriek before rushing off stage and running out of the park with the mage sisters in tow.

“Ohh-Kay then. Well! Sorry about that folks! Hopefully the show can continue yes?” Magolor clasped his hands together.

“Yup! Looks like I could use a new volunteer! Hopefully a little less crazy one this time!” You joked nervously.

The crowd giggled at your joke, bringing back the happy atmosphere.

Once you selected a new volunteer, your show went off without a hitch!

While you were performing, Hyness and the three mage sisters warped into the Jambandra Base.

“Lord Hyness…” Zan Partizanne reached out to Hyness only to have her hand smacked away.

“I must go to the sanctuary! Do not disturb me!” Hyness snarled as he warped away.

All Hyness could hear were menacing voices as he entered the sanctuary.

“Jorrow Bastion

Jamblasted Bastion

Konjy bastion”

Hyness pressed his sleeved hands together.

“Great Dark Lord, you know I am a righteous man, of my virtue I am justly proud”

“Janno Jaway”

His body shook as he lit the nearby fireplace.

“Great Dark Lord, you know I'm so much purer than, The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd!”

“Janno Jaway”

It wasn’t long before he saw your image dancing in the flames.

“Then tell me, Dark Lord, why I see them dancing there? Why their smoldering eyes still scorch my soul?”

“Mi bastion”

“I feel them, I see them-” -The flames seemed to smile at him-“-The sight of their jawaii smile! Is blazing in me out of all control!”

“mi bastion konjy”

Hyness frantically jumped away from the flames.

“Like fire! Hellfire! This fire in my skin! This burning desire, Is turning me to sin!”

With a shrill cry, Hyness ran away from the fireplace as fast as he could.

“It’s not my fault!”

“Jes Vun”

“I'm not to blame!”

“Jes Vun”

“It is that jamblasted heathen! The demon who sent this flame!”

“ Jes Vun”

Hyness’s voice grew more and more desperate.

“It's not my fault!”

“Jes Vun”

“If in your plan-”

“Jes Vun”

“-You made the bastion so much stronger than a man!”

“mi bastion konjy”

Hyness fell to his knees and slammed his hands on the ground.

“Protect me, O Dark Lord! Don't let this siren cast their spell! Don't let their fire sear my flesh and bone!”

Hyness pleaded as he flailed his arms about.

“Destroy Y/N! And let them taste the fires of hell Or else let them be mine and mine alone!”

Hyness hugged himself before jumping to his feet.

He whimpered and clutched the sides of his head.

“Dark Lord, I invoke thy name! Deliver me from evil, Dark Lord! GIVE ME SANCTUARY PLEASE!”

With another shrill cry, Hyness tore off his hood.

“I WILL FIND THEM!”

His head practically spasmed as he spoke.

His chameleon-like eyes darting in all directions.

“I will find them even if I have to burn down all of Popstar!”

Hyness let out a maniacal laugh that echoed throughout the sanctuary.

“Hellfire! Darkfire! Now heathen, it's your turn! Choose me or your pyre! Be mine or you will burn!”

His breathing was heavy as he started to relax a bit.

“Japologa Vun”

“O have mercy on them”

“Japologa Vun”

“O have mercy on me”

“Japologa Vun”

Hyness let out crazed chuckle.

“But they will be mine! Or they will burn! They will burn!”

With one final cry, Hyness fell to his knees once more.

“PLEASE GIVE ME SANCTUARY!”

#kirby #magolor #hyness #magolor x reader #Hyness x reader #x reader

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fineartsjournal · 3 months ago

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213341 Art Studio IIIA ⋆ Week 6 - The Trenches

Back in the weeks of July, I got three books from the library. I've had them sitting around for a hot minute, about time I actually got to talking about them:

The September 11 Syndrome: Anxious Days and Sleepless Nights by Dr. Harriet B. Braiker

The Nostalgia Factory: Memory, Time and Ageing by Douwe Draaisma

Nostalgia: A History of Dangerous Emotion by Agnes Arnold-Forster

Why the general focus on nostalgia? Beyond my exhibition group, it's worth establishing that the action of sampling is a few logical steps away from remembering.

For my Introduction to Fine Arts hand-in report a few weeks back, I wrote the following about this conceptual link:

"Through the sonic traversal of yesterday and today driving the process of sampling, it was only natural that if any concept were to drive my workings in this second semester, it would be cultural memory. To reinvigorate the past through music will just as easily reinvigorate its memory, a collective longing visible in resurfacing trends, genres… and sentiments.

"In Nostalgia: A History of a Dangerous Emotion by Agnes Arnold-Forster, she recalls a survey ran by Spotify prior to the introduction of ‘Your Time Capsule’ – an auto-curated playlist feature on the platform, letting the user “Throw it back with nostalgic tracks picked just for you.” In the survey, Spotify found nearly 70 percent “…said that nostalgia can help ‘change or improve their mood…” Music was outlined as the “number one trigger” for nostalgia. (Arnold-Forster, 140)."

A societal obsession with 'disco' seems to reappear every 5 years or so. The ubiquitous symbol of the Ouroboros - the perpetually self-eating snake - serves as a good metaphor for these cyclic actions; which Arnold-Forster demonstrates through the character of Don Draper from Mad Men, in the episode The Wheel.

Draper worked in advertising, where evoking nostalgia had the power to bond the customer with a product on an emotional level, to which it "...takes us to a place where we ache to go again." A 'carousel', as Arnold-Forster compares it to , which "...lets us travel the way a child travels. Around and around, and back home again . . . to a place where we know we are loved...." (Arnold-Forster, 130).

I'm not alone in my longings for bygone eras, it seems. Just last year, a rose-tinted TikTok video came into online ridicule, with users quick to point out the variety of horrendously artificial foods that adorned supermarket shelves at the time.

People still bake their own goods, too. But the memory matters more.

"In 1966 [...] Cadbury made a [...] advert for television to promote their new cake range. 'The Years to Remember' started with three simple questions: 'Do you remember when bakers still baked their own bread, and cheeses still came from the farmhouse? And good cooks would only bake with butter?' [...] "Attempts to prompt memories of childhood among viewers were common throughout the seventies and into the eighties. An advert for Heinz cream of tomato soup from 1981 began with the injunction, 'Remember your very first soup bowl.' [...] "The idea that certain products had maintained their quality and stayed reassuringly the same while the world around them pitched and rolled was a theme that ran through advertising in this period." (Arnold-Forster, 131)

In a closer example, such relationships apply to music taste, too. The Nostalgia Factory by Douwe Draaisma tends to hone in more on the psychological side to nostalgia, although noting in pages 69-70:

"There seems to be a sensitive period for pop music just as there is for memorable reading experiences. What people regard as the music of 'my generation' begins at around the time they are fourteen or fifteen and ends in their late twenties, a window of some fifteen years. Their appreciation of that music remains almost constant from then on. [...] A graph showing their preferences can be summarized very simply: 'Pop music was at its best when I was around twenty and went downhill rapidly from then on'. Such studies are often derived from market research, since anyone choosing music for use in a commercial aimed at people in their late forties will benefit from the knowledge that 'Sledgehammer' by Peter Gabriel was a hit in 1986. The target group was around twenty then - [To which Draaisma cheekily summarizes] - that ever-shifting cohort lucky enough to have grown up at a time when good music was still made.

Scanning these three texts, the central emotions behind nostalgia, behind a constant rekindling of the past in search of a familiar comfort, stems from exactly that: Comfort.

"For James Abraham, nineties nostalgia is less to do with the internet and more about reassurance, commerce and even a lack of creativity" 'Everyone is cycling back to things that they might have seen or done, because they are safe and tested,' he said. Nostalgia works in this way, supposedly, because it makes people feel good. The argument has been the same since the 1970s: particularly in a time of global unrest, like the one we are living through now, [Note: I do wonder when there has not been a time of global unrest!] nostalgia is a grounding force, something that, provided we part with enough money, has the capacity to calm our nerves." (Arnold-Forster, 142)

The September 11 Syndrome: Anxious Days and Sleepless Nights by Harriet B. Braiker can explain this most bluntly:

This is a self-help book for a specific age range of people, relating to a specific reaction to a specific event two years before I was even born - the intrigue here is how the traumas of the 9/11 attacks are dealt with by the individual.

Step (chapter) Five is called "Creating a Comfort Zone", sees recovery through the home nest. Bundling up with familiar media and childhood reminiscing is the strategy: "...by creating comfort in our safety zones, we develop a psychological advantage over the bad guys."

This is furthered in the subsection "Actions You Can Take to Enhance Your Comfort Zone", which, among other homely activities, suggests: "Rent some great old movies on video or DVD. Make some popcorn, cuddle up, and have a movie marathon." As well as - "...listen to a wonderful book on tape or to recordings of old-time radio shows." (Braiker, 129)

Nostalgia has the capacity to dramatically reframe past histories, sure. But this time-specific writing by Braiker demonstrates it as a coping strategy. The new is of no use here, it is discomfort, it is fear. When she suggests how to "Enhance the comfort of your personal "safety zones", is it a personal archival? A sampling of bygone glory? Utterly misguided?

If I knew the answer, I'd probably write my own self-help book about reminiscing on the good old days of the early 2000s as a coping strategy for post-Covid society.

⋆⋆⋆

Some 'break' that was. It felt no different than going to class again. By this point, we had all our resources prepped for the big day. Mike had reserved my mixers. We had speakers, cabling, and spotlights galore. A lot of my time was spent formatting the pamphlet with Olivia as we kept things in check.

From there I could step back a little, as the actual printing, room painting and vinyl cutting was delightfully not my responsibility.

I found out more about the mixer that I'd be using, a snazzy ZOOM LiveTrak L-8. I hope I don't drop it!

I started editing up some images to display on the MP3 players, which would also serve as titles for each of the four pieces. This incorporated the SM64 font, as well as some textures from the game.

I tested the MP3 players and they worked just fine - finding the proper charger had been a hassle for Mike, so this much being sorted out was a weight off the shoulders. The drawback? The images can't be loaded onto them. There goes 30 minutes of my life...

Back at uni again, and Mike was showing me the ins-and-outs of how to get everything wired up. Initial tests were a success, and I was starting to see it all come together.

Ruby and Stevee-Renee handled the vinyl side of things, and kept the group updated via the team chat.

With a completed brochure, Ariel and I headed to the library for printing, and got 20 sets of 5 pages each completed in no time... and with no printing cost, either! Olivia and the others had installed a file holder, and Ruby and Stevee-Renee applied the vinyl.

The yellow files originally planned to house our brochures were not available in the size we wanted, so we had to go without. Regardless, our presentation was snazzy.

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beanie-babie-vents · 3 months ago

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So I haven't posted on here in a good while, though I did post on vent.

I've had some shitty stuff happen recently, so lemme talk about it :

So around two weeks ago, I had finished work only to find out my twin sis had gone to a mental hospital. I knew she'd been really depressed lately, but I didn't know just how bad it had gotten. When I got to visit her the first time, she told me that she had broken down because of something that happened with our older sister. She didn't say what happened, but that she'd show me the recording she took when she's out of the hospital (she doesn't have her phone currently).

So I'd been dealing with that all week, along with having school start, and my bf telling me that hearing me vent about my awful family all the time made him feel like a shitty boyfriend cause he felt like he wasn't doing anything to help.

With all that already happening, I was getting really overwhelmed at work on Thursday (which happened cause of a thing which I'll explain in a bit) and was on the verge of a panic attack.

My manager came over to see if I needed any more product or whatever, and I told her that I was starting to freak out. She said that I couldn't keep having this happen, I just had to push through it, and that I was using 'this' (I guess she was referring to my anxiety or whatever) as a crutch. Fucking ridiculous that she says that the same day I actually use my cane while I'm there....

In any case, I was already crying by then, though just silent tears, and she simply told me to hand out samples despite that. Was all "pick up the cups, put them on the tray, put the food on, hand it out. Deep breaths, just push through, tell yourself to blah blah I don't remember what she said'.

She left, and I'm still crying, then at some point my coworker comes over to give me my break, sees that I'm crying, asks what's wrong, and that immediately gets me crying harder. I go on break after she hugs me, continue to have a panic attack in the bathroom and call my friend, then attempt to go back to work, still crying.

My one coworker comes up to try a sample, sees that I'm crying, and I start sobbing again cause he asked if I was okay. He's hugging me, and my manager comes over saying that I can't do this here, and that customers went and complained to the store managers about me crying, and then got on her case about it. So she said that I can either go home or cry in the office, then brought me to the office.

Now, as for what caused my panic attack in the first place before my manager made things worse?

I was already overwhelmed bc the company has stupid rules about not leaving our stations for any reason, including needing to use the bathroom - and if we have medical issues surrounding that, then we need a doctor's note so we can be given an extra break to let us go to the bathroom.

And yes, my manager has told me about this before, but it literally makes no sense??

Like, for a number of people with bowel or bladder related issues, you may get the sudden urge to go. Or the urge can just get stronger out of nowhere. Both of these have happened to me in the past, and has been happening more and more recently.

So my manager had asked me why I shut down my station when I had come back from break a little while before, then was basically scolding me, saying that i should've gone during break.

That's the thing though, I DID.

My body just decided that day was a GREAT day to not work properly. In numerous ways.

So yeah, if it's not obvious, having an extra break set up to go to the bathroom doesn't help, because there's always a chance that I wouldn't be able to actually hold it long enough. Because chronic illnesses are SO FUCKIN DUMB.

And my manager saying that breaks are apparently there for us to use the bathroom so that we don't go during our shift. Yeah no, it's not cause we may need to rest and eat, no, not at all.

Following all of that, a few days later I was scheduled to work again. I was gonna try to go despite how awful I felt. I knew that it'd be bad to call out, as I was supposed to be taking over my coworkers stations during their breaks that day, and it could be hard to have someone cover that shift for me - especially if there were multiple shifts going on that day, which was likely.

But the closer it got to my shift start time, the more anxious I got, and I knew that if I went to work that day, I'd just have another panic attack.

By the time my shift had started, I had yet to get ready, and knew I'd have to call/text out. I texted my manager that I wouldn't be there and went to sleep.

I'm worried that I'll be fired now....

But god, what was I supposed to do?

I honestly still can't believe everything my manager said.

She'd always been so sweet, kind, and understanding before, so for her to act like this was honestly surreal, and caused me to bring down due to everything else on my plate.

The worst thing is, I saw her as a friend. She literally called me a friend of hers before. Only for all this to happen?! Just. What the hell....

#druittblr #vent account #vent post #vent posting #beanie speaks #vent app #work vent #fuck managers #fuck my manager in particular #mental health #mental hospital mention #family shit #shitty memory #shitty managers #shitty boss #long post #ableism #sanism

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akehoshimystar · 4 months ago

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Chapter 5

Roka: Hello, Okoge�� It's been a while, how's it going?

Okoge: Meow.

Roka: Yeah, I'm glad you're doing well. Here's a face-rubbing greeting ♪

As soon as we arrived at the Administrative Dept. house, Roka-san went straight to Okoge for some skinship. Okoge purred in pleasure as his fingertip rubbed the back of his ears.

Taiga: I didn’t expect Suoh-san to come at all.

Ito: When he happened to stop by the office, I invited him and he immediately said yes.

Haruhi: Even though he tends to disappear and appear out of nowhere, he must have some kind of ability to never miss such a timing.

Taiga: It's reassuring to have the person who came up with the project sample it. I’m very grateful for that ability.

While talking, Tsukimoto-san skillfully advanced his preparations.

Roka: I wish I could bring Rare-kun too... It's been a while since you last saw each other, right?

Ito: Oh, Rare-kun used to come here?

Taiga: When there's no one in the office for a long period of time, such as a holiday, the Administrative Dept. sometimes takes care of him.

Ito: I see.

(I sometimes see cats and birds getting along on social media, but I wonder if I can see that here too.)

I couldn’t help but smile when I imagined the interaction between Okoge and Rare-kun.

Taiga: Okay, let's get started.

Roka: Hmm, I smell the scent of happiness all over the table.

Now, everyone, let's do this properly. Put your hands together and say "Thanks for the meal!"

Ito: Thank you for the meal.

Taiga: ...How was it?

Roka: Wonderful! Delicious! Bono!

I'm so impressed that I think these can be served to customers right at this moment.

Taiga: Really?

Ito: I agree with Roka-san.

It's amazing that he was able to produce these in such a short time.

Haruhi: All worth every night that you’ve spent practicing. Right, Taiga?

Taiga: You’re supposed to keep that a secret!

Haruhi: That won’t change the fact that you’re a good cook anyway.

Your challenge was how well you could make it fit the concept, and I think you did very well.

Ito: (It may sound emotionless, but I can sense his respect for Tsukimoto-san.)

And that’s what softened Tsukimoto-san's expression.

Taiga: I was especially particular about pairing it with black tea. Given that my role is a hatter. What I want to emphasize is…

Roka: An endless tea party ♪

Taiga: Yes. Not to mention, the story of Alice takes place in England.

I originally had an image of black tea, but I learned and practiced in my own way to bring tea time to another level.

I tried to reflect the wonderful particularity of it in the menu.

Ito: So you made every dish go well with tea.

Roka: What's more, it's not just the classic tea set, it's amazing that you also made Japanese-style sweets!

Sheesh, aren’t you playful, Taiga?

Ito: You also made this matcha roll cake, Tsukimoto-san?

Taiga: Yes. There were some tea leaves that I really wanted to use, so this is what I came up with after thinking about what would go well with it.

Roka: Oh yeah. The tricky combination is as interesting as the story itself!

Taiga: Thank you.

It was a little challenging because these are not some usual tea leaves out there, but it was well worth the effort.

Roka: Our customers will definitely be pleased. You’ve earned my stamp of approval!

Haruhi: ...Is there only tea?

Taiga: Nope, there are drinks on the menu that you would find at a regular cafe too.

Basically there're afternoon tea sets for tea parties and high tea sets for meals rather than snacks.

This way people can order food individually and enjoy their own favorite combinations.

Roka: Simply wonderful!

It's amazing that each table has their own tea party.

Roka: I really wish Urara had come too...

Haruhi: Why Manami-kun?

Taiga: Have you forgotten that he is also the cafe member for this time? Do some research.

Roka: I asked him on the way here, but he turned me down almost immediately.

Though I can already sense his stubbornness. Take a look.

Everyone came to see a message from Manami-san appearing on Roka-san’s phone via LIME.

Urara: [I said I'm not going, you're so damn persistent.]

Taiga: Oh, this is…..

Haruhi: I mean… If I suddenly got something like “an invitation to a tea party ♪” I'd turn down too.

It's practically spam.

Roka: Really? If it were me, I'd be all giddy-up!

Haruhi: Yeah, I’m sure you would. Even if it’s really a spam message.

Ito: (I definitely can picture that.)

I could even imagine Kosaka-san and Kise-san telling Roka-san to set up a strong spam filter to prevent that from happening.

Taiga: Manami-kun plays Cheshire Cat, right?

Roka: Yup! His tendency not to show up often renders him a perfect man for that role, don’t you think so?

Haruhi: That's exactly what's happening now.

Chapter 6

#break my case #buremai #joseimuke #Tsukimoto Taiga #Ichikawa Haruhi #Suoh Roka #Manami Urara

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t-jfh · 7 months ago

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OpenAI says its new tool can teach a machine to speak with any person’s voice after just 15 seconds of training.

(Photo: Marija Ercegovac)

OpenAI’s new Voice Engine could bring real benefits, and real dangers

Last week OpenAI unveiled its speech-cloning technology Voice Engine, which you may have read about under various news headlines in the vein of “The AI technology too dangerous to be released”.

This is because, in OpenAI’s blog post, it explained why it’s creating the model and what benefits it could bring, while also saying the world was not ready for it and that it could be a menace in the wrong hands. We’ve seen this before from OpenAI, which talks a lot about safe and responsible AI, but which, it’s worth remembering, has both a non-profit and a commercial arm.

The company has frequently introduced new developments by talking about how potentially ruinous they could be, which it has to know also makes them seem more cool, powerful and valuable. So will Voice Engine be a force for good, bad, or both?

By Tim Biggs

The Age & Sydney Morning Herald - April 8, 2024

•

This is an AI-generated image, prompted by Leonardo.Ai senior creative technologist Jessie Hughes for this story.

(Image: Leonardo.Ai)

Leonardo.Ai co-founder Jachin Bhasme.

(Photo supplied: Leonardo.Ai)

‘Super powerful’: Australian hotshot takes on the big guns with AI image creator

Fast-growing Sydney start-up Leonardo.Ai has unveiled plans for a dedicated offering for businesses, allowing co-workers to collaborate in real time on custom on-demand image generation as generative AI technology moves away from general models for consumers to the workforce.

Leonardo.Ai, which was originally set up in 2022 as a way for game developers to create visual assets, allows users to generate AI images using text prompts. Its software competes against the likes of Midjourney and ChatGPT.

It claims to offer more fine grain creative control over the results than other products, and in the last four months has doubled its user base to 15 million, with a total of more than one billion unique artworks having been created since the service was launched. It currently generates six million assets every day and says its platform for businesses is trained on fully licensed data.

By Tim Biggs

The Age & Sydney Morning Herald - April 10, 2024

•

#Technology #AI - Artificial Intelligence #OpenAI #‘Voice Engine’ speech-cloning technology by OpenAI #Leonardo.Ai #AI image creation technology #AI image creation using text prompts

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shrirampathlab12 · 2 years ago

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girasollake · 2 years ago

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high school sweethearts pt. 2 | e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x nb!reader

requested: follow up to part 1 which was requested

type: angst

summary: reader can’t deal with eddie leaving them for someone else and they decide to use something they thought they never would

warnings: usage of drugs (i have never done drugs in my life and i do not condone it, usage of it is just for story purposes, dont do drugs.), description of taking drugs, curse words, neutral type of ending

a/n: i won’t be doing more parts guys cause i don’t like writing multi-chapter stories and i have some requests i have to finish but i hope you’ll enjoy this follow up to part one!

word count: 1,743

The next month was hard for (Y/n). Even though they stopped talking to Eddie it seemed like he was everywhere. They would hear his favourite songs in the cars passing by, his smell would linger in the air out of nowhere and they would see him in every corner of the school. The world just kept reminding (Y/n) about his existence and their mental health was getting worse. It was still a mystery for them why Eddie didn’t even want to be friends anymore. Maybe he thought that their feelings would get in a way for his relationship or whatever it was? Or maybe he was just sick of (Y/n)? They had many answers for that and each one of them felt right. They wanted to focus on something else, to get their mind off of him. So, they picked up their old guitar and there it was – Eddie again. Then they tried painting and, oh, him again. The memories of him drawing and designing the hellfire t-shirt were flooding their brain.

☽ ☽ ☽

(Y/n) was eating lunch next to Robin who was having a conversation with one of her friends. This time of the day was one of the worst because they had a clear view of Eddie’s table and the man himself. After moving their fork in their food for about 5 minutes they finally looked up and they instantly regretted it. There she was again, talking to him, smiling at him and… taking something under the table? For a moment (Y/n) forgot that he was a drug dealer. Then they thought that maybe there is a chance for her to be interested in him so that she could get free samples. But that wouldn’t go on for such a long time, would it? While (Y/n) was watching his hand touching the box he always carried, an idea struck their mind. Since the world wouldn’t let them forget about him, why not use it to their advantage?

When the school ended they took the first bus that was going towards Eddie’s trailer park. They felt uneasy about this, but was there anything else they could do? Sure, weed and alcohol were working good for them in the terms of “blocking out the thoughts” but they needed something stronger. They finally reached Eddie’s trailer and lifted their fist to knock. They hesitated when they heard a girl laughing inside.

‘You chose the perfect fucking moment, (Y/n).’ They mumbled and after taking a big breath they knocked.

They heard someone walking to the door, voices were getting louder. Eddie opened the door and his girlfriend was right behind him, a disgusted look on her face.

‘Hi.’ (Y/n) said. ‘I wanted to-‘

‘What are you doing here, (Y/n)?’ Eddie asked.

‘I-‘ They swallowed a big lump in their throat. ‘I just-‘

‘Look, I don’t have time for this right now.’ He said and started closing the door.

‘Wait!’ They screamed and placed their hand on the door. ‘I wanted to buy some drugs.’ They said while looking into Eddie’s eyes.

‘What?’ He chuckled. ‘Nice joke, go home, (Y/n).’

‘I’m serious.’ They huffed and let go of the door. ‘You’re a dealer and I want to buy shit, that’s how it works from what I remember.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t do drugs.’ He answered sternly.

‘I don’t.’ They stated. ‘But I want to start.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, Munson.’ They said through gritted teeth. ‘I am your fucking customer so do your fucking job.’ They hissed, still not breaking eye contact. ‘Or I’ll call the cops.’

He snorted and opened the door for (Y/n) to come in.

‘Thanks, I’ll wait here.’ They said and sat on the couch.

‘You have any preference?’ He asked without any emotions.

‘No, give me something that’ll quiet my thoughts and make me less miserable.’

‘Drugs will make you more miserable.’

‘Really? Then why do you sell them and use them?’ They asked with a sarcastic smile.

Eddie turned around to go to his room, he didn’t say anything at all. (Y/n) was left in the living room with his girlfriend who was shooting them death stares the whole time.

‘What’s your problem?’ (Y/n) asked and intertwined their hands.

‘I don’t have a problem, seems like you do.’ She answered and walked out of the room to join Eddie.

(Y/n) started nervously tapping their foot on the floor and biting their nails. They were scared of drugs their whole life, they really wanted to leave and not buy anything but their pride got the best of them. They wanted to show him what he did to them, how he treated them, because Eddie knows damn well they would never use drugs. They had told him that months ago, that they would need to reach a breaking point, a moment in their life where everything would be unbearable to take drugs worse than marijuana. And there they were, much lower than their breaking point.

‘Here, that should be enough.’ Eddie handed them two pills of something.

‘No.’ (Y/n) shook their head. ‘I want more than that. This’ll just get me through one day.’

‘Fuck no. You take that or nothing.’ He said.

‘Not a really good deal for a dealer. I have a lot of money here…’ They took their savings out of the pocket and showed them to him. ‘… and you have a lot of drugs.’

‘No. This or nothing.’

‘Okay, well in that case…I’ll be back tomorrow for more.’ They snatched the bag from him.

‘No, you won’t.’ He said while (Y/n) handed him some money.

‘Oh, but I will. It’s either that or the cops. Think about it.’ They said and walked out of his trailer.

Cold air hit their warm cheeks, it was refreshing after being inside there for so long. Small droplets of rain started falling on (Y/n)’s face as they ran towards the bus stop.

At home they locked themselves in the bathroom. The small plastic bag which contained the drugs was sitting across from them. They didn’t want to take them, they didn’t want to end up in a situation they couldn’t escape. They didn’t want to buy them, but the feeling consuming them was much stronger and it influenced all of (Y/n)’s actions. Finally they reached for the bag and after taking out one pill they placed it on the countertop. (Y/n) took a deep breath and looked up to see their reflection in the mirror.

‘You can do it.’

They took out their pocket knife and pressed it on top of the pill. They didn’t know what they were supposed to do, but since they had seen others do that it must’ve been the right way. Carefully they made thin slices of white powder and soon they were all inhaled by them through the nose.

(Y/n) didn’t remember much from the other day when they went to Eddie. Some of their memories became blurry after taking the drug and maybe it was a good thing? Maybe that’s just what they needed? And just like that, right before school, they took the other pill.

☽ ☽ ☽

Eddie had noticed something wasn’t right when he first saw (Y/n) entering the cafeteria. He didn’t think they would actually take those pills, it wasn’t like them. He approached them by their locker and leaned on the wall next to it.

‘Are you high?’

‘Why does it matter?’ (Y/n) mumbled, eyes focused on one spot inside her locker.

‘Because we’re in the fucking school!’ He hissed. ‘Why did you take those pills? What’s wrong with you? You hate drugs! And bursting like that into my house yesterday was not nice at all!’

They slowly lifted their head and turned it into his direction. (Y/n) looked him in the eyes and he noticed how red theirs were.

‘Fuck you.’ (Y/n) chuckled and shut their locker.

They started walking away from him with a small smile tugging on their lips. Eddie quickly grabbed their arm and turned them to face him again.

‘I’m taking you home.’

‘No you’re not… I have classessssss..’ They yawned.

He didn’t reply, he just walked out of the school with (Y/n)’s arm held in his fist. He pushed them into his passenger seat and put on the seatbelt. The whole ride was silent with occasional curses spilling out from (Y/n)’s lips.

‘Fuck you.’ (Y/n) mumbled again when they reached his house and he was leaning over them to unbuckle their seatbelt. ‘You’re a piece of shit.’

He didn’t answer. He just took them out of the car and pulled them along to go into the trailer.

‘Sit.’ He demanded as he placed them on his bed. ‘And stay here.’

‘It’s all your fault.’ They said before he left the room which caused him to stop. ‘It’s your fault I’m like this.’

‘No, it’s yours. You wanted the fucking drugs!’

‘BECAUSE OF YOU!’ They stood up abruptly. ‘YOU LEFT ME!’

Tears were welling up in (Y/n)’s eyes. Eddie was just looking at them, unable to move and speak.

‘You left me… for her. I gave you.. fucking everything…’ They whispered. ‘What was so bad about me?’

‘(Y/n) please, you’re high. Sit down.’

‘No. You fucking hear me? I won’t sit down! Give me more fucking drugs if you don’t want to talk to me!’ They got closer to him and started punching him in the chest, but not hard enough to hurt him. ‘GIVE. ME. FUCKING. DRUGS. ASSHOLE!’

He engulfed them in a hug and instead of fighting more, they broke down crying. Eddie sat down with them on the cold floor and pulled them closer. (Y/n)’s cries could be heard throughout the whole trailer and outside.

‘Why won’t you love me Eddie?’ They sniffled.

‘I’m sorry.’ He sighed. ‘I never wanted to hurt you.’

‘But you did. A lot.’

‘I know. I know I fucked up..’ He started crying as well. ‘You were my best friend and I fucked it all up.’

He started rubbing their back softly.

‘I have always loved you, just not like that.’ He whispered. ‘But maybe it’s because I was scared to lose you and then when you told me how you feel.. I fucked up either way. I still lost you.’

‘You didn’t lose me yet.’ They replied weakly.

‘I’m sorry for doing this to you and for letting you try that shit. Promise me you won’t do it again and I promise I’ll fix this.’

‘Okay.’ They muttered. ‘I promise.’

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dycefic · 3 years ago

Text

Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it. They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!

#welcome to Evil Mart #good is not just good #evil is not just evil #people are complicated #and so is retail #tw graphic #tw gore #tw violence #tw murder #it's a supervillain story #supervillain shit happens #you are now warned

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happys-crazy-queen22 · 3 years ago

Text

Strip

Gif credit @discoelitist.

Requested by @mypridefulsoul27. Hope you like it. Thanks for the request.

Taglist: @nocturnalherb16. @jesseswartzwelder. @mypridefulsoul27.

"So what are these pills called again"? Antonio asked about this new drug on the street. It already had forty overdoses under its belt and growing.

"Pez". You replied, handing him a sample of the product that you got off a dead guy.

"Like the pez candy"?

"Yeah, it even comes with it's own pez dispenser and everything. Makes it popular with the kids". You tell him as you went to put the last two overdoses on the board. They were thirteen and sixteen that had a bright future before them.

"That's Eva's and Diegos age". Antonio sighed.

"From what we know, the dealer is a strip club owner named Marco Stewart. He has connections to strip clubs, porn studios and apparently schools as well. He has a record longer than my arm. Mostly drug charges and a few DUI's, assault with a deadly weapon and a breaking and entering". You tell Antonio and the others as they started to come in.

"A model citizen". Jay chuckled.

"Yeah, his club has been shut down for redecorating and looking for new talent. So if it's alright with Voight. I was thinking I could go apply and someone else". You looked at Voight who was noddling his in approval.

"I'll go. I can go be a bartender or something". Antonio volunteered.

"They're looking for dancers and a bouncer". You tell Antonio. He lifted a eyebrow.

"Alright set it up. You sure you're cool with this, Y/N"? Voight asked.

"Yeah. I want this guy off the streets. Parents will sleep better at night". You smiled and went to get your coat.

"A stripper? Of all undercover missions I have to miss is, Y/N being a stripper. That hurts". Adam held his chest dramatically.

"Eat your heart out". You laughed as you walked past him. Antonio snickered as he followed.

Adam playfully dropped on his desk dead. Kevin and the other laughed. You were taking this serious.

"So what's your name"? Marco Stewart asked, looking you up and down. A toothpick sticking from his mouth.

"Heaven. I'm a little piece of Heaven". You batted your eyes and flirted with him.

"More like a big piece of Heaven". Marco chuckled, his eyes went to your breast.

"Oh you're so funny". You playfully hit his arm.

"You're hired. So what about your boyfriend"? Marco watched Antonio out of the corner of his eye. Antonio was looking at the stage in the club.

"His names Johnny. Just got out of the pen. Had five years but did three for good behavior". You smiled.

"What was he in for"?

"Possession of a controlled substance". Antonio turned to talk to Marco. "That's what the asshole cop said once he planted it on me". Antonio looked between you and Marco than laughed. Marco laughed as well.

"You use to deal"? Marco asked intrigued.

"Yeah back in Brooklyn. I dealed for nine years and nothing but they catch me picking up a ounce of weed for my moms and I'm in prison before I can bat my eyes. It was bullshit". Antonio put on a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Alright. You're hired too. Both you be here Friday night, six o'clock. I got something for you two do before you go on".

"Wow, thanks. I cant wait to show you my moves. I promise it'll be amazing". You gushed, hugging Antonio and planting a kiss to his cheek. "We got the job, baby".

"Let's go home and celebrate". Antonio growled and picked you up carrying you out of the club.

Antonio put you down and headed to the car. "That was easy".

"Yeah. Now we have to figure out what he wants us to do". You say as you and Antonio drove to the station.

"Heaven? You chose Heaven as a stage name"? Adam scoffed.

"Yes, I'm a little piece of Heaven". You seductively purred.

"Yes, yes, you are". Adam smiled like a fool. Antonio rolled his eyes.

"Do you think he wants us selling drugs for him"? Antonio asked.

"Maybe. We could get a few undercovers in there as customers. Give us a better chance at catching him with the drugs". You suggested.

"We can do that. But we dont want to spook him. Since theres two new faces in the club and then add more. He'll know somethings up". Voight replied.

"Yeah. You're right. We go in tomorrow at six".

"Alright. Make sure you two are ready and prepared for this. I dont want it going bad and someone getting hurt. No dealer will go down nicely". Voight reassured.

"Yes, sir". You say. Antonio and you had a rough night sleeping. Your minds raced. Tomorrow was a big job, a lot was depending on you two. You couldn't screw it up.

"My little piece of Heaven". Marco greeted you as you came into the club his arms open for a hug.

"Good even, sir". You purred in his ear.

"Oh, sir. I like that". Marco laughed. "Come on, I got something for you guys". He waved you and Antonio into the back room.

"So tonight is going to be big. Huge! We have Heaven here making her debut and everyones coming. Everyone. So I need you two to be selling some of our delicious product. It taste just like candy". Marco chuckled as he opened a box that had about five hundred pills inside. Enough to kill a whole school of kids.

"I've heard about this drug. It's supposed to make sex even more amazing". You wrapped your arms around Antonio's waist and started kissing his neck. Antonio went along and grabbed your face deepening the kiss to your lips.

"Fuck yes"! Marco cheered.

Antonio pulled away panting, you licked your lips. This was the first time you two let your sexual tension free on each other. It was there but you two kept it bottled up.

"I like you two. This is going to be a great partnership". Marco grinned.

Around seven, people started arriving. Each person got a pez and a pat down from Johnny the bouncer. Antonio was taking his job seriously. You were going around getting drinks for the customers until you were called to the stage.

"Baby, why dont you take this fifty and we go back to the back and play"? A creepy older guy slapped your ass as you sat his drink down on the table.

"No thanks". You smiled and went on your way. You had to breath cause if you didnt you would have taken the drink tray and popped him up side the head with it.

"Heaven, baby. It's almost time". Marco pointed to his wrist and you nodded. You went back to the dressing room and changed into a diamond bralette that didnt hide anything and a pair of black cut up booty shorts. It wasnt your taste but Marco wanted you to wear it. You splashed on some glitter and perfume before you heard your song come on.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a new comer here that has blessed us with her beauty. Please give it up for a little piece of Heaven". Marco introduced you to the cheering crowd. You walked on stage and put your hand on his shoulder.

"We also have a special guest to share the stage with her, our own bouncer Johnny Boy". Marco put the spot light on Antonio which caught both you and him off guard. You didnt know his was in your performance.

Marco waved Johnny on stage, Antonio gulped and went up. Marco had a chair for Antonio to sit in as you danced.

"Show em what you got baby doll". Marco slapped your ass.

You smiled at Antonio, he looked nervous. The combination of spot light, the men sitting around watching and the part where he liked you this was a bit to much for him to stand.

The music was flowing through your veins. You swayed your hips to the music in between Antonio's legs. Your hands on his knees, your ass on his lap. Antonio licked his lips, he got the courage to put his hands on your hips and guide you along.

You smirked, rolling your hips. This was all work but you could throw in some play as well. The crowd of cheering men disappeared when you turned around and straddled Antonio's lap. Your hand wrapped around Antonio's neck as you grinded on him. He looked into your eyes as he helped you move your body.

Your eyes wondered over his face, his eyes sparked in the lights, he had a slight smirk on his face and you could see Marco deal out a baggy of Pez.

"Now". You said and Voight and the team busted in. You got off of Antonio and went after Marco, Antonio followed your lead.

Marco didnt run, he had his hands up and ready for cuffs.

"For a dealer, you went easily". You told Marco as you handed him off to Jay.

"I'm just the bottom of the food chain, baby. I'll get a slap on the wrist". Marco laughed as he was taken away.

"Great job, you two". Voight nodded and walked away.

"You look absolutely beautiful". Adam smiled like a bigger fool as he came over. You looked down and covered yourself up.

"I'm going to go change". You hurried to the back.

Antonio slapped Adam on the back of his head. "Watch it". He pointed at Adam. Adam stood there confused.

You got dressed quickly and headed out front. Suddenly all eyes were on you.

"What"? You looked down at your outfit. You had tight red pants on with a red jacket and a black see through corset. You may have taken it from Marcos wardrobe.

"You look good, Y/L/N". Jay chuckled along with Adam and Kevin.

"Thank you". You giggled.

Antonio came by your side. "You do. You look really good. Um, you wanna get coffee"? Antonio rubbed the back of his neck.

"Are you asking me on a date"?

"A coffee date".

"Oh". You were kinda sad that that was it.

"Just for now. I'm kinda tired so coffee will hold you over until Friday night". Antonio sent you a wink.

"Yeah. I'd like that".

"Great". Antonio held out his arm for you and you wrapped yours around his. "Where did you learn to dance like that"?

You laughed. "Believe it or not there was a time I wasnt a detective. But that's for another time".

Antonio smirked as he lead you to his car and you were off on your first date.

#antonio dawson smut #antonio dawson chicago pd #antonio dawson fanfiction #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd #chicago pd smut #antonio dawson x reader #chicago pd imagines #happys-crazy-queen22

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vertebrates-and-pieces · 2 years ago

Text

@lichenlad

Look, I was going to write a little snippet of him getting a cake. I swear that was my intention. Somehow this happened instead?? No cake was had, but the yearning was strong and things got way out of hand.

A Regular Thing

Warnings: some angst in a hurt/comfort context, foul language. Also this is hardly edited, unbetaed, and written entirely in one sitting, so it's a little rough.

At first he had you pegged for a sucker. Because, honestly, why else would you become a regular at his store of all places? Scam you once, shame on him. Scam you twice, shame on you. Scam you what? Over twenty times? Yeah, he wasn't sure who should be feeling shame at this point. Probably your parent(s) and/or guardian(s). Because if this grown ass adult still didn't understand that he didn't exactly have their best intentions in mind, something somewhere had gone wrong. It almost seemed unrealistic. No matter how many pieces of useless, defective, and sometimes actively harmful, junk he sold you, you still returned for more. Your skull must be full of nothing but unsalted pistachio shells. But then again there were people out there that earnestly believed that celery oil would cure them of degenerative bone diseases and make their ex take them back; there were people who actually clicked the limited time link to renew their car's extended warranty with this one simple trick [doctors hate him].

He knew from the fact that he still managed to pull in the occasional sale that there were, in fact, some real suckers out there.

But there was something different about this customer, about you. You didn't look, sound, or smell particularly desperate. Nor did you reek of excessive funds to waste on trash. Maybe his dumpster exile had left him noseblind, but he was pretty sure he was still sharp enough to sniff out a rat, and your behavior was giving him some definite hints of cheese. You apparently liked scrounging enough to linger, never ordering to-go. You took your time browsing his selection. You seemed to enjoy it. You smiled when you entered his little storefront. You smiled at him and there was an amused little twinkle in your expression that would always make all the hollow dusty spaces inside him fill up with nervous anticipation. It felt almost like a hopeful ember. Over and over he smothered those distracting sparks under his heel like a discarded cigarette butt. He was aware of his flammable nature and wasn't about to let himself get burned again.

You weren't a sucker, he eventually concluded. You wanted something. Why else would you refuse to leave him to rot like anyone with half a brain already did a couple decades ago? He'd passed his sell by date: a washed up has-been in a rusty tin can hanging on a thread. A stupid fake phone with no one on the other end of the line. What you'd want from an old broken puppet was beyond him, but as you began to actively engage with him more and more, talk to him, listen to his empty promises, ask him questions, tell him about your day, he knew it had to be something. You looked at him with some strange sort of longing. The vulnerable honesty of the look was almost admirable. It made him feel like he had something of value to offer. It felt good. And damn if that didn't scare the 1 pair vintage white slacks [gently used] off him.

His suspicions were all but confirmed when you started complimenting him. He was being buttered up and he could hear the pot boiling in the background. And in some out of the way corner of his mind he was starting to wonder if it would be that bad to dip in his toes to sample a taste of the broth he was about to be cooked in. Looks like the only real sucker here was him. Lining up at the gate to string himself up again and dance for the first deceptively friendly hand reaching for his reigns. He stomped on embers again in an effort to stop them from catching, but it did nothing. You were apparently some sort of Phoenix/Hydra hybrid [Has Science Gone Ttoo Far??] A trick candle that refused to be blown out, and he was running out of breath.

You weren't freedom. He knew this. You had no scissors to cut him loose from the fate he'd found himself woven into. You wanted something.

And apparently the thing you wanted from him was to take him out to dinner??

"WHAT."

"Nothing fancy, sorry, can't really afford that, but, uh," (and yet you could afford an overpriced one of a kind novelty crazy straw with a crack in the middle THREE DIFFERENT WAYS TO SUCK ??) "Maybe to like Dark Chilli's? Crap, I forgot its actual name, but the place a couple blocks away? The one with the 'Romhack Ribs'?"

"WHAT???"

"Sorry if I'm overstepping a boundary here. It doesn't even have to be a date! It can just be as friends if you'd prefer!"

Date??? Friends??? Where you… actually? Seriously??? Real?? [Not Clickbait].

"YOU ARE . ARE YOU. [SPECIL OFFER]ING ME???.. WHAT [what?] ARE YOU???"

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just, well, I guess I enjoy spending time with you. If you don't want to eat with me I hope you wouldn't mind if I dropped off a hot to-go meal? I really want to give you something to thank you for letting me hang around your shop. I'm probably not the best for business."

A part of him recoiled instinctively, doubting the sincerity of your claim. He'd made enough "Too Good To Be True" offers to know that there was always an ulterior motive, every bait hiding its inevitable switch, the juiciest worm wriggling on a hook, daring some idiot to take a bite. Spamton had bitten before, been pierced and reeled up, given a glimpse of blue skies and a shining sun. A world where giants walked. He'd been laid breathless on heaven's pier and measured by hungry eyes. He'd been told such sweet lies. Then he'd been tossed back into the murky pond in silent indifference, floundering and scarred, never given a reason for his rejection, though he knew all along he was too small to be a keeper.

But the way you were averting your gaze, stumbling over your words, face hot and blotchy from embarrassment seemed so unplanned, so real. Either you were one hell of an actor or even more crazy than he'd originally assumed.

"YOU. WANT TO [Thanks for Visiting!]??"

"Yeah, I do," you responded quietly, finally meeting his gaze, "Maybe I'm moving too fast but… I like you. A lot."

And in that moment it was as if you had finally laid out all your cards. You were not bluffing. This was really the hand you were playing, the hand you were offering.

"YOU. LIKE ME."

"I… really do," you confirmed with a sheepish smile.

And fuck if this wasn't the best thing he'd been dealt in a long time. For the first time in that very same long time, he really, truly felt like a lucky sonofabitch.

He couldn't help but laugh, and he couldn't stop laughing. You were serious. You liked him. You had asked Spamton G. Spamton out for a dinner date.

His retreating reservations made way for other ideas. This could be his next big break. He could work with this, play along and twist it to his advantage. Find a way to use this opportunity, wring this generous sponge for every last drop of wine and use its dry and depleted husk as another step up and towards his ultimate communion. If he was what you wanted all along, you were really a Class A Fool and he could easily play you as one.

"Spamton, are you okay? You don't have to say yes. Please don't feel obligated to-"

"YES." He cut you off with a force that surprised even him. "I [Accept All]."

Your eyes were blown wide and though they were hidden behind his [Funky Limited-Edition Spectacles] he knew that his were about the same.

"Wait, when you say accept all, do you mean that you want to go get dinner with me? Or that you are okay with me liking you? Or…" you shifted nervously, weighing your next words carefully, "That you… also… likeme?"

"ALL OF THE ABOVE," he replied before his mind even had a chance to fully process what he was admitting. And, well, screw it all, turns out you were BOTH suckers, because he meant it. Here you were offering him a chance to get everything he'd been dreaming of, yet somewhere along the line those dreams had shifted. He didn't want to walk on top of you. He wanted to walk beside you.

And you wanted the same thing, as crazy as it was. Smiling like the idiot you were, offering a hand to shake to seal this ridiculous deal, and he took it, holding on a little too tight, idiot that he also was.

"See you tonight then." You told him. Despite what were meant to be parting words, you didn't let go of his hand. That suited him just fine. He didn't particularly want to let go either.

"WHY WAIT!! YOU DON'T HAVE TO [Stop]. I'M [Right here, Right Now] [take advantage of this once in a lifetime] ME!"

It was your turn to fall into a fit of laughter.

He didn't tell you that his presence in any restaurant constituted a health code violation and that you'd likely get yourself banned for attempting to enter with him in tow. He didn't tell you how all the jokes you'd told him were bookmarked in his memories with little hearts. He didn't tell you how fast you made his fractured code race through his entire being, lighting up pleasantly tingly gates and pathways he had no idea he still had. He just laughed along with you. And neither of you let go.

#spamton x reader #my writing #long post #sorry bout that #actually im not sorry

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ally-writes-many-things · 2 years ago

Text

I’m right here. (Steve Harrington) Part 2

Summary: After being away from Hawkins for a little over seven years, you return to spend time with your brother Dustin but things happen that may change how you feel about Hawkins.

Words: !.4K

Requested:

Prompts:

Warnings or A/N:

Tags: @sundarksposts @manuosorioh

You were in the break room with another copy of what the tape had said as you were trying to figure it out while Robin was the one who had the tape recorder. You just didn’t see what Robin and Dustin saw. You were completely on the side of Steve about how this was nonsense. “Excuse me!” You heard a customer say from the other side of the glass.

You ignored it and continued on trying to figure it out but the customer kept trying to get Robin’s attention. “Ahoy! I’d like to try the peanut butter chocolate swirl, please,”

“No. No more samples today,” You heard Robin finally crack.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re abusing our company policy,”

“Where’s the sailor man?”

Sailor man? Are they talking about Steve? You had to call him that at least once to see his reaction. “Sorry, he can’t help you. He’s busy?”

“Busy with what?”

“Spycraft,”

You heard the girl and her friends' voices fade as they exited the shop and Robin opened the window and rolled her eyes. “Kids will be the death of me,”

You crackled before going back to looking at the paper. “You know, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to be helpful because if this is something to do with Hawkins, I’m a lost cause before I’m not from here,”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask where are you from?”

“Califor-”

There was a knocking at the back door that interrupted you. “Hold that thought,”

Robin opened the back door and you saw a delivery man. “Deliver for you,”

Robin took the package and signed for it. “Thank you,”

“Have a nice day,”

“Yeah, you too,”

Robin went out into the back corridor saying Silver cat. Robin then comes back into the shop but leaves through the entrance and you follow her but you see Dustin and Steve making their way back. “You're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian,”

“You did too,”

“No, I did not,”

“Yes, you did,”

“No, I did not,”

“A trip to China sounds nice,” Robin said, walking straight past them.

“Robin,” Steve called out but she didn’t answer so they all looked at you.

“I have no idea what’s going on. Scoops got a delivery and she started acting like that,”

You three walked closer to her but Dustin called out to her. “Robin, what are you doing?”

“I cracked it,”

“Cracked what?”

“The code,”

It was a few hours later after the mall was closed and Robin had you, Dustin, and Steve

on the roof watching the delivery truck move in and out of the docking bay. You can’t believe you let your brother and some girl you just met talk you into this shit. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes,”

“They’re with that whistling guy, ten o’clock. What do you think's in there?”

“Guns?”

“Bombs?”

“Chemical weapons,”

You exhaled an annoyed breath. “Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth,”

Steve rubbed his face in pure annoyance. “Great. That’s great,”

“Hey, what’s in there?”

“It’s just more boxes,”

“Let me check it out,”

“No, I’m still looking,”

Steve and Dustin started fighting over the binocclous by trying to force it out of each others’ hand and they dropped it over the side of the roof with a loud thud. You four quickly ducked behind the wall of the roof. After your heart stopped racing you noticed that you were holding Steve’s hand and you quickly pulled your hands away from him and he did the same. You guys slowly turned back around and looked to see if you were clear and thankful you were. You looked at both the idiots. “You two need to quit acting like four year olds or you’re gonna get us caught,”

You four stayed where you were for the rest of the night and you eventually fell asleep. You were woken up by the sun shining in your eyes. “I fell asleep? Why’d you guys-” You caught yourself off when you only saw Dustin there but no Robin or Steve. “Where’s Robin and Steve?”

“They had to go back to work and I didn’t wake you up because the last time I did, you chewed my head off and that would definitely get us caught,”

“True. Do you have what you need so we can leave, I need to go to the restroom?”

“If you want to leave, go. I’m not ready,”

“Dustin, I’m not leaving you up here by yourself

“Ughh, fine. Let’s go,”

You walked into the backroom after going to the restroom and saw that Robin and Steve were sitting at the table and Dustin was standing up. They all looked up at you before Dustin spoke. “That keycard opens the door, but unfortunately, the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun. Whatever's in this room, whatever's in those boxes, they really don't want anybody finding it,”

“But there's gotta be a way in,”

“Well, you know I could just take him out,”

“Take who out?”

“The Russian guard,”

“What?”

“I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard. It's easy,”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?”

“Yes, Dustin, I did. And that's why I would be sneaking,”

“Ah. Well, please, tell me this, and be honest, have you ever actually won a fight?”

“Okay, that was one time,”

“Twice. Jonathan. Year prior?”

“Listen, that doesn't count,”

“Why wouldn't it? Because it looks like he beat the shit out of you. You got a fat lip, crooked nose, swollen eye, a lot of blood,”

“That just might work,” Robin said abruptly, running to the front of the store and grabbing the money out of the tip jar. “Robin. Hey, Robin! Hey, what what are you doing?”

“I need cash,”

“Well, half of that's mine,”

“Where're you going?”

“To find a way into that room, a safe way. And, in the meantime, sling ice cream, behave, and don't get beat up. I'll be back in a jiff,”

“Oh, dude. Come on, man, not my scooper,” Steve said, yanking the ice cream scooper out of Dustin’s hand after he licked it.

You accepted that Robin just completely left without any explanation but what you couldn’t accept was that Steve got beat up by the Jonathan you knew who lived here. “Hold on, please tell me it wasn’t Byers,”

“It was,”

You let out a hefty laugh and looked at Steve. “Are you kidding me? You got beat up by Jonathan Byers?”

“Yes-No,” Both Dustin and Steve answered the same thing.

“Who was the only guy?”

“You wouldn’t know him. It was a guy named Billy and he-”

“Billy Hargrove?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Long story that I’m not gonna share with my little brother,”

“Well then,”

“Sorry bud,”

It had been about twenty minutes since Robin had gone to who knows where, Dustin had run off to do something but he promised he’d be back in a few which left you and Steve at Scoops. You were in the back, bored out of your mind while Steve was slinging ice cream, every once in a while he’d open the window and check on you. You were about asleep when you heard the door open, you looked up and saw Steve walking towards the table. “Refilling the tubs time,”

You sat up in the chair and smiled at him. “Fun,”

“Hey you could help me refill the tubs if you so bored,”

“Why not?”

Steve smiled at you and handed you a bucket of ice cream that was named Bubble gum. You carried the ice cream bucket to the front of the store. “You take that one and filled the tub with the bubble gum flavor,”

“That sounds really difficult. Could you explain it more?”

Steve flicked some of the ice cream off his scooper at you and it landed on your nose. “Oops,” He laughed.

“Oh is that how it is?” You asked, flicking some at him and it landed on his uniform.

This went on for a few minutes before Steve grabbed the scopper from your hand and your breath hitched as you realized just how close he was to you. If you took one step towards him your bodies would be pressing against each other. He smelled of maple wood and cedar. You were just frozen in this spot. You didn’t know how to breathe much less move. No one has ever had this effect on you. Not even Billy. He reached out to touch you, but a voice had sent two flying away from each other. “What is going on here?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #stranger things #stranger things x reader #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #mike wheeler #eleven #jane hopper #joyce byers #jonathan byers #will byers

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chosonore · 4 years ago

Text

cynosure

cynosure [noun. one that serves to direct or guide; a center of attraction or attention]

pairing: sukuna/f!reader

summary: in which sukuna re-discovers being human one aspect at a time, through many lifetimes, at the price of losing you over and over.

wordcount: 8.7k

content/warnings: reincarnation au, slow burn but also not really because there's only hints of romance? language, it's not canon at all, just pretend sukuna was never sealed away, lowercase is intended

a/n: this is more self-indulgent tbh sukuna is probably uncharacteristically soft? sometimes i'm reminded of the fact that he used to be human and while we don't exactly know how he became a curse just yet, i kinda felt sad about it lol i'm too sympathetic with everything, it's gonna kill me one day fhuierhfa a lot of these moments are based on my own experiences, where i had to remind myself that even the small things in life are really good and important, especially during the pandemic. that being said, i hope you enjoy and stay safe everyone :) (and please don’t judge me too hard on this lol i haven’t written in like what. six years?)

001.

“oh,” you stared at the tall, pink-haired man in front of you. “i didn’t think anyone would be here around this time…” he stared back at you, not replying nor making any move to scoot over so that you could sit on your bench. it was only then that you noticed the black markings framing his face and adorning his wrists. you were a little dumbfounded - your mother had always said that you had a poor survival instinct. though you supposed that his pink hair eased your nerves a little; surely someone with pink hair couldn’t be as evil. but you couldn’t recall ever seeing someone like this around the proximity of your village. maybe he was a vagrant.

“i don’t mean to be rude but… that’s my bench and i would appreciate if you could maybe… scooch over?” you asked gingerly, not wanting to upset the stranger. you approached him slowly, grasping your basket tightly. if he got a little rowdy, maybe you could just wack him with the basket, right? although it probably won’t hurt but it surely would stun him long enough for you to run.

“i don’t see why i should move just because it’s your bench,” the stranger answered gruffly, crossing his arms. were you naive or just stupid? “do you not know who you’re talking to, woman?”

you cocked your head to the side, not sure what he meant. maybe he was one of those famous poets or musicians that your parents liked to talk about. you weren’t entirely sure. even though he sounded annoyed, the look in his eyes didn’t quite match the hostility - he looked rather bored, unamused even, but not hostile. maybe you could humour him a little. “am- am i supposed to know you? i’ve never been outside of the village so i don’t know much. only what the merchants tell me. i apologize if i’ve offended you,” you explained hastily, then pointing at your basket. “i just came here to enjoy the sunrise. um, today is my birthday, so i treated myself to some dessert!”

“if- if you scooch over a litte, i could share some with you…” you tried to bargain with him. now you were truly starting to sound desperate but this was your favourite spot and it was the first time in a while that you had a free day to relax. out of all days, just why did he have to be here now? you’d be damned if you let your day get ruined by this unfriendly stranger.

“are you trying to bribe me?” the stranger narrowed his eyes at you and you thought this was it. he was going to kill you and bury your body in the forest and your parents would come look for you, only to find your empty basket and then start a huge search party to find you and- the pink haired man moved to the side, refusing to look you in the eyes. “sit.”

you let out a squeak in glee, quickly taking a seat beside him. he watched in silence as you unwrap your desserts, glancing at the objects in question. even though you’d offered to share with him, he didn’t actually expect you to give him some of your food. sukuna was surprised when you handed him a… round squishy thing?

“what is that? how is that going to satiate me?” he asked, almost offended, which made you giggle. you didn’t reply, instead thrusting the mochi towards him until he begrudgingly took it, closely inspecting it in suspicion.

“that’s a daifuku mochi. it’s made out of rice flour and filled with red bean paste. but come to think of it… do you even like sweets? i’m sorry if you don’t particularly enjoy it,” you explained and grabbed one as well. you were about to bite into your mochi when you saw the stranger opening his mouth, ready to devour the entire mochi in one go. in horror, you quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him, only to have him suddenly pin you down and tower over you.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” you hastily said, now suddenly aware of the dark, threatening aura that he was emitting. maybe he was a killer after all. “i just didn’t want you to eat it in one go! they’re kind of difficult to eat in one go… plus you’re supposed to savour and enjoy it, take your time eating it!”

sukuna stared at the girl in disbelief, you’d grabbed him out of nowhere just to stop him from eating too fast? not only were you not aware of who he was, you apparently did not know how to be cautious around strangers. it irked him that you were acting like he was a harmless human being. so much so that he briefly contemplated killing you. “who are you to tell me how to eat?” he growled at you, not softening his grip. he saw the panic and fear in your eyes but for some reason, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it, it didn’t fill him with joy as it usually did.

“i’m just telling you how we usually eat mochi!” you harrumphed, now annoyed that he was acting like you just committed murder. “you didn’t know what these were, so i was just trying to explain! food is supposed to be enjoyed, not ravished all at once. you have to appreciate your food because there might be days where you won’t have any. and besides, enjoying and properly tasting your meal is the least you can do to show gratitude to the person who cooked it for you.” sukuna let up and sat back on his previous spot, seemingly accepting your answer. you sat up, adjusting your yukata and pouted at him. what a rude stranger! you at least expected an apology from him but seeing that he was already taking a bite from his mochi, you guessed you should just let it go. it wasn’t worth getting angry over anyways, not on this day.

“why are you looking at me like that, little girl?” sukuna questioned, taking another bite from his mochi. he did actually enjoy it and it took every bone in his body not to hastily eat more and to savour it like you’d told him to. maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, it made him think about his meals a little more. not eating for the sake of eating, but for enjoyment, he mused. sort of like living for enjoyment, not for the sake of living.

“you never told me your name,” the girl replied innocently. sukuna sighed. so you really weren’t aware of who he was. “my name is y/n! now it’s only fair if you tell me, especially because i shared my food with you. please?”

before sukuna could reply, he sensed someone quickly approaching. they were hiding somewhere in the forest; it likely was a jujutsu sorcerer, trying to exorcise him. he could deal with them later, but not here, not with you around. the girl looked at him in disappointment when he abruptly stood up, turning towards the forest behind them. unfortunately, he had the inkling that you wouldn’t let it go until he answered: “my name is sukuna, king of curses.” your eyes widened in recognition but you didn’t immediately react or scramble away from him, most likely frozen in fear.

“now go. someone is coming and you do not want to be in the crossfire.”

002.

as a seamstress, you’ve encountered all kinds of customers. ranging from rude and bratty to eternally grateful, you’ve seen it all. your supervisor had always told you to remain calm and polite, to just adhere to their wishes to not cause any ruckus. after all, people of status often assumed that they were untouchable and could treat others poorly. it wasn’t worth the hassle to start a fight with them, you could lose your job after all. there was moments you’d have to stand up for yourself but this wasn’t it. fortunately, your employer paid you well, enough for you to provide for your family. the customers were high-profile after all.

you looked at the clock on the wall, your next customer was supposed to come soon. it was a nobleman that apparently travelled here from far away, having heard that the store offered beautiful, one of a kind fabrics. you just hope that he wasn’t rude and that you could leave in time. you’d been working overtime for weeks now, taking every appointment and customer that you could get. your mother’s birthday was approaching and you’d been saving up to buy some of the soft and silky fabrics to sew her a new yukata. your mother had always sacrificed her own comfort to buy the best items she could afford for your siblings and you and now that you were older, you could finally treat her to something nice as well. your employer was even willing to give you a small discount and you gratefully took up on her offer.

the chime of the doorbell made you look up, the good feeling in your stomach slowly fading when you saw who entered. you were familiar with the customer after all; he was well known in the area, being a rather volatile and sometimes scary aristocrat who had the reputation to be particularly difficult and having outrageous demands. you hastily stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of your clothing and walking over to greet him. you bowed politely, taking the outerwear that he took off and placing it on a nearby armchair. “sir, i’ll bring you a few samples shortly. do you have any colour or pattern preferences?” you asked him, placing a pot of tea and a cup on the small side table for him to enjoy. you made note of his wishes and disappeared in the storage room to pick up the samples. the customer had made himself at home, eyeing you scrutinizingly. he made you queasy, looking so incredibly unfriendly and you could tell that you were not going home early tonight.

you showed each of the fabrics to him, explaining what materials they were made of and what occasions they were good for but with each explanation, he just looks more and more uninterested. not to mention the snarky remarks he made, seemingly not happy of the choices you presented him. you were running out of options and you didn’t know what else to do to please him when suddenly you heard someone enter the shop. both the customer and you looked over confused - you weren’t expecting any more customers today, it was already late after all. a tall, pink-haired man entered the shop, scowling at your customer. you jumped slightly; he looked scary and you were terrified, not sure what to do in this situation. not only were the black markings on his face and body terrifying, there was also a threatening aura surrounding him, dark and slowly spreading out, all your instincts were screaming at you to run. should you politely ask him to leave? he looked like he wouldn’t take it too well. before you could ask him whether he was looking for something, the stranger spoke up: “you know who i am, leave.”

your eyes widened, slowly inching back towards the back of the store. you were not aware of who this man was but by the looks of your pale-faced customer, he surely did. “this is outrageous!” he exclaimed indignantly, jumping out of his seat. “you can’t just burst in here and demand that i leave! i have an appointment! are you aware of how long the waiting list is? this is the finest shop in the entire prefecture and i would rather die than to give up my spot for a scoundrel like you.” the stranger raised his eyebrows at the shorter man, clicking his tongue in annoyance. you slowly reached out to grab your pair of scissors. they probably weren’t of much use but it made you feel more safe, knowing you could at least somehow defend yourself.

“oh? you would rather die? i’m sure that can be arranged,” the stranger threatened and it was with horror that you watched his fingernails, sharp and pointy, grow in size. he wasn’t human, you’d just encountered a monster. he would kill you and it wouldn’t take him much effort to do so, you were sure he could just stab you with those fingernails. your customer squeaked and left the store in panic, slamming the door in the process, while you quickly hid behind the counter. you hoped he would leave you alone, you didn’t want to get involved. this wasn’t your problem, you were innocent and it was an unfortunate coincidence for you to be here.

“stop hiding,” the stranger commanded, slowly approaching the counter. you peeked from below the counter, holding your breath. what else could he possibly want from you? demons surely didn’t need money. oh god, was he going to kidnap you?

he swiftly rounded the corner and knelt down to take a closer look at you - you couldn’t react fast enough, he’d already grabbed your chin and made you look at him, turning your head from side to side as he examined you. his fingernails were slightly digging into your skin, making your face scrunch up in discomfort. “so it is you,” he exclaimed in a low voice, then abruptly standing back up. you were confused - what did he mean by that? at least he didn’t kill you, at least not yet. but what else could he possibly want from you? “i need a new kimono. that scumbag just left anyways, make one for me instead.”

a kimono? a simple kimono? you couldn’t believe what you just heard. this demon just came in here, threw a fit but all he wanted was a simple kimono? you couldn’t help but scoff at the situation though it probably was difficult to enter a store without people fleeing or refusing to serve him. while he did look human, the markings on his face made it difficult not to feel threatened. but why did he know you? you had never seen this man in your life before. not in passing, not on drawings, nowhere. no matter how hard you wracked your brain, you just couldn’t recall. “d- do you have any- any colour preference?” you questioned him, watching how he took a seat and grabbed himself the cup of tea.

“white,” he answered curtly, taking a sip from the tea. “i’ll leave everything else up to you.”

you felt uncomfortable but there was nothing else you could do than follow his orders. you grabbed a few plain white fabric samples and slowly inched over to him, holding them out with your trembling hands. “what?” he deadpanned. you huffed in frustration.

“sir, you should… you should choose the fabric. it’s your kimono after all, you might not like the feeling of the fabric or it might not be a good fit for your everyday life,” you explained.

“i don’t care, just choose whatever. i’m above the comfort you stupid mortals choose.”

“that’s stupid,” the words left your mouth quicker than you could stop yourself and you slapped your hands over your mouth. the stranger looked at you as equally shocked. “i mean- i mean there’s nothing wrong with indulging in comfortable clothes!” you explained quickly, pressing the samples into his hands. “see you wouldn’t like scratchy clothes, right? or fabric that quickly makes you sweat or feel too warm! i always talk to my customers about what kinds of fabrics they would prefer… i believe life is too short to wear ill-fitting clothes or ones that don’t feel comfortable! good clothing should make you feel like… like a warm hug.”

the stranger didn’t look like he understood what you meant, making you scoff again. some people really didn’t care about what they wore and how they looked like and it just bothered you. good quality fabrics and well tailored clothing could make you feel confident and safe, even in the worst situations. how could you possibly relax if your clothing was maybe scratchy or ill-fitting? “i’ll prove it to you!” you exclaimed and left the room to gather your supplies, then coming back to instruct him where and how to stand so you could take his measurements. now that he was towering over you, you were suddenly very aware of how tall and broad he was. you felt like a dwarf next to him. up close, you noticed more details about him. he was attractive, you couldn’t deny that - the long wispy eyelashes, the watchful ruby eyes and his soft-looking pink hair. if he picked up on your staring, he didn’t comment on it.

once you were done taking notes and choosing fabrics, you gave him a slip of paper, noting down time and date for him to come back to pick the kimono up. “as for payment-” you started but the stranger dropped a huge bag of coins on the counter. you gasped, pushing the bag back into his arms. “sir, that’s too much! i’ll calculate the exact price for you but-”

“take it,” he insisted and pushed it back towards you. “i have enough. you need the money right? see it as a generous tip.” your face flushed, you didn’t even know what to say and instead only profusely thanked him. it was so much money, the tip was enough to cover your family’s expenses for a year.

when sukuna picked up his kimono weeks later, he still didn’t understand what a hassle you made about the choice of fabrics and why you were so diligent in taking the measurements. he was fine with everything as long as he had something to wear in the first place. he didn’t care, he wasn’t a measly human that whined about the mildest inconvenience. in the private of his abode, he tried the kimono on, abruptly halting his movements as soon as the fabric touched his skin. so the girl was right, the fabric did feel incredibly good on his skin. it was very smooth and silky, a little cool on his skin. very lightweight but not flimsy. the kimono wasn’t too short and fit his tall statue well, you really did a good job he supposed. he glanced at himself in the mirror. it did look good on him, even the matching colours and patterns were chosen well. you really were a good seamstress, no wonder everyone was flocking to the store.

now that sukuna wore the kimono, he suddenly didn’t want to take it off. it was comfortable and soft, reminding him of you.

003.

your favourite spot was one below a tree, on top of a hill where you could see everything. the small city below, the horizon, the stars in the sky. you often came here when you felt like your life came crashing down your shoulders. it didn’t feel like your own anymore, not with your future already laid out for you without you being able to control it. complaining had always felt redundant and ungrateful to you - you had everything you needed, a loving family, food on the table and your family was wealthy enough to not have to worry about money. but in return, they expected everything from you, their eldest daughter. sometimes, the pressure was too much for you but they expected you to do as they say. everything was well until they announced that you were to get married and they’d found a suitor for you. you couldn’t even protest, the decision had already been made behind your back and you couldn’t refuse. you sniffled quietly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. you didn’t know this man; he might be a complete asshole and not treat you well at all.

the wind was biting at your skin, cold and unrelenting, and yet you felt safe here, away from all your worries. the starry sky made you feel like your worries were miniscule, reminding you that there was so much more out there for you to discover. you’d always liked the sight of stars, they always made you happy. on lucky days, you’d even get to see a few shooting stars. you’d close your eyes and clasp your hands, hopeful that whatever wish you made would come true. the crunch of leaves and twigs made you look up in alarm, scared that your parents had found out you left the estate and now found your secret hiding spot. you couldn’t quite make out the figure in the darkness, only being able to tell that a tall person was approaching you.

you were wary, inching towards the tree behind you to hide but froze when a voice rang out: “i know you’re there. i was looking for you all over the city, little one.” a man clad in a kimono was coming closer, stopping right in front of you and looking at you in disdain. your eyes lit up as you recognized him; you’d met sukuna a couple of times in the city before, mostly when you went to pick up some books to read. he’d been there one time when you were choosing your books and scoffed at your choice. you’d ask him about it, wondering why he thought that your choice was a bad one. he went on and on about how historically inaccurate the book was and that the information about curses was wrong and how an author like that should be ashamed to even publish it. you appreciated the dialogue, you liked having someone to discuss with you. your parents didn’t like that you read fantasy books and books that talked about supernatural events and beings, dubbing them as nonsense and that you should focus on your studies instead.

after your third meeting, sukuna had finally opened up and told you his name. your meetings became more frequent then but you’d never met anywhere other than the bookstore. you were surprised that he even found you here; you decided not to question him though, sukuna always seemed to know where you were, always sensing where you were headed. truthfully, you looked forward to spending time with him. he was attentive and always listened to you, barely ever talking. oddly enough, it made you feel like finally, someone was paying attention to your thoughts and needs. lately, a heavy feeling in your chest was always accompanying you when you met up with him. it was a dull ache, some kind of yearning that you couldn’t quite put a finger on. it didn’t help that you felt like you’d met him before, but you really couldn’t recall where you had met him before. “what are you doing here?” you questioned him, scooting to the side to offer him some space on the picnic blanket.

unceremoniously, he sat down and glanced over to you. he didn’t reply, simply shrugging. “why didn’t you bring a coat?” you asked another question instead, frowning at his choice of clothing. aside from his kimono, he wasn’t wearing anything else. “you’ll catch a cold!” you scolded him, swatting his arm before tugging on his sleeve and signalling him to move closer to you so you could wrap the blanket around his shoulders. you struggled a little to reach him, almost stumbling - sukuna’s arm immediately shot out to hold you so you wouldn’t fall. your cheeks flushed red and you were thankful that it was dark. you cleared your throat and sat back down, snuggling into the blanket and his side.

“by the way, i read that book you disliked the other day,” you told him, rambling about the contents of the book and what you thought of it, all while sukuna simply listened to you. he only spoke up when he challenged your way of thinking or to agree, otherwise staying silent and just watching you.

suddenly you grasped his hand in excitement, pointing at the sky. “oh, oh! look!!” sukuna’s gaze followed the direction you pointed to, spotting some shooting stars flitting across the sky. “you have to wish for something!” you squeezed his hand and nudged him, then squeezing your eyes shut to prepare yourself to wish.

“what would i even wish for?” sukuna frowned and pinched your cheek. “what do you wish for?”

“you’re not supposed to share wishes! if you do, they won’t come true,” you argued back and stuck your tongue out at him. sometimes, he really was too skeptical, never indulging in harmless fun. it might be childish to believe in these things but sometimes that little spark of hope was all you need to wait for better things. you sighed when the shooting stars disappeared and let go of his hand, screaming internally. did you really grab his hand like that? you sure hoped you didn’t unsettle him.

“i don’t think i told you, but my parents have found a suitor for me,” you confided in him quietly, staring at the grass near your feet. “i’m supposed to marry him next year but… i don’t want to, i don’t know this person and i just want to live my life with no one controlling it.”

“i see. there’s still time to get to know him, isn’t there?” you knew sukuna was trying to console you but it wasn’t exactly working. your words frustrated you a little; subconsciously, you’d hoped that he shared the same opinion and maybe, just maybe, help you do something reckless.

“i don’t want to get to know him,” you huffed and crossed your arms (sukuna thought you looked like a petulant child). “i… i already like someone.”

“you do?” sukuna looked at you surprised and that was the first time that he’d shown any other emotion than indifference. you nodded shyly, hoping that maybe he’d get the hint. you weren’t confident just yet to confess to him but maybe he’d get it from your description alone?

“i recently met him and i really like that he makes me feel like, you know, important and always pays attention to me. he doesn’t talk a lot but i think that that’s okay, we still have a silent mutual understanding, i guess. and i also think he looks really handsome! although i-”

sukuna had enough of your rambling, he felt annoyed that you were telling him about your stupid crush. whatever boy you had a crush on, they would never amount to the likes of him. why would you look at someone else when he was right there? right here, with you. sukuna reached over and grabbed your cheeks to make you look at him before pressing his lips on yours. you froze for a short moment before returning the kiss, holding onto his kimono when he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. why would you pay attention to someone else when he could be with you? for the first time in his existence as a curse, he briefly felt human again. maybe shooting stars were the key to wishes coming true after all; in this moment he wouldn’t mind being human again, being alone with her with only the stars as your witnesses.

004.

gradually you were really starting to dislike your night shifts. usually, you’d ask to cover them because it was quiet, there were no nosy customers and the only people that ever came in so late were sleep deprived students that pulled all nighters to write papers or study. well it used to be that way until a group of, presumably, freshmen started coming more and more frequently - they wouldn’t have been so annoying if it wasn’t for them talking and laughing obnoxiously loud. they would stay until late in the night and kept ordering drinks. the audacity to have oddly specific orders, to watch you like a hawk while you were preparing their drinks, it made your blood boil. to top it all off, one of the guys kept flirting with you, even when you’d already made it obvious that you were not interested at all. no matter how uninterested and abrasive you acted, the guy would not leave you alone and his friends would try to act as wingmen. clueless and horrible wingmen.

you were glad that you were never alone during your night shifts, depending on the weekday you’d work in a team of two or threes. whenever they could, they’d cover for you and you were thankful but also felt bad, which usually resulted in you taking over anyways. you placed the basket on the counter, grabbing a towel to dry the cups you’d just washed. the chime of the doorbell made you look up, your heartbeat speeding up at the sight of sukuna coming in. like the group of freshmen, sukuna had recently started to visit the café more and more. he usually only came late at night and he probably was your favourite regular. scratch that, he was your favourite, no one was as calm as him and he never caused trouble. yeah, maybe those night shifts weren’t all that bad, you thought to yourself. you looked forward to him visiting every time you had a night shift.

“hi sukuna,” you greeted him softly and gave him a smile, placing the cup on a shelf. “the usual?” he took a seat near the bar, placing his wallet on the counter and taking off his coat. sukuna was peculiar, not particularly in a bad way. you always thought that he was a little mysterious. he always wore the same kimono - who wears kimonos everyday in this day and age anyways - the same white kimono but maybe he just owned mulitple of them. you could never tell what he was thinking and he had never shown any emotions other than brief moments of bliss when he was having his usual order. his order had always and would probably always be a simple black coffee and some daifuku mochi. it was a weird combo, you mused, but somehow fit him. it was a sharp contrast, just like his tattoos and the soft pink hair. you finished up the order, pushing the cup of coffee and the plated mochi towards him - you’d sneaked another one in just for him, knowing how much he seemed to like them. sukuna looked up at you, ready to protest but you just brushed it off, telling him that it was okay.

out of the corner of your eye you saw your not so secret admirer approaching with an empty cup and you instantly knew you were bound to be annoyed again. you sighed, returning to the cash register to take his order. “so, when am i finally going to get to take you out?” the guy asked, leaning on the counter to get closer to you. you gritted your teeth, ignoring his question and instead took the empty cup, placing it in the kitchen sink behind you.

“oh come on, don’t ignore me, baby,” he whined, not letting up until you answered. you were annoyed, so so annoyed. your co-workers were currently organizing the inventory so you were all by yourself - usually that would be fine but you’d had enough. this week has already been awful and you just wanted to be left alone. you glanced around, spotting sukuna on the side. suddenly a lightbulb went on in your head and you faced your admirer confidently.

“i’m sorry but please stop flirting with me and trying to ask me out,” you started and pointed to sukuna who was innocently taking a bite from his mochi. “i already have a boyfriend and i don’t think he appreciates you cornering me like this. you being this persistent is really annoying, girls don’t like that.”

upon hearing his name, sukuna looked up and as if on cue, he glared at your admirer. “yeah, i suggest you fuck off. get a hint, you creep, she’s mine,” he snarled, making a move towards the other guy who was already scrambling to get away and profusely apologizing. mine, mine, mine. his words kept repeating in your head, your heart squeezing painfully. was he interested in you? would he ever come to see you more than just a barista? you sighed in both relief and affliction, trudging over to sukuna.

“i’m sorry i dragged you into this,” you apologized embarrassed, shoulders drooping and you stared at the floor just so he wouldn’t see your reddened cheeks. “he’s been pestering me so much and i kind of thought that that was the only way to get him to back off.”

“i don’t mind,” sukuna replied curtly, resuming his seat. he didn’t say anything else and you slightly panicked, you wanted to keep talking to him, stay in his company for a little longer.

“ah uhm sukuna, i want to thank you! if… if you don’t mind, i would like to treat you to another drink?” you suggested, your face now beet red. this was the most straightforward you had ever been with a guy, usually too shy to make a move. in distance you could hear the chime of the doorbell and the doors slamming, indicating that the group had left. you were alone. sukuna didn’t reply at first and you were sure you’d fucked up and got ready to backtrack and laugh it off when he nodded.

“go ahead, little one,” he nodded towards the counter. “you choose the drink.”

you didn’t know why sukuna kept calling you little one but for some reason, you didn’t mind. it did however make your heart ache in what you could only describe as melancholy. you weren’t sure why. while you started brewing some green tea for the two of you, the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. the pitter patter of raindrops against the glass front was the only sound audible in the entire café. sukuna hadn’t uttered another word, not even making a sound of acknowledgement when you handed him the cup of tea and sat next to him.

“you didn’t bring an umbrella,” you noted, looking out of the window. it was raining heavily, with no signs of it stopping anytime soon. “i guess you’ll have to stay here for a little longer, otherwise you’ll get sick. i hope you aren’t sick of me though.”

sukuna took a sip of his tea. “i don’t mind your company,” he replied, looking at you. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking but you sincerely hoped he wasn’t joking. hearing that gave you a little hope.

“i like moments like this,” you confessed to him, clutching the warm cup with your sweater paws. “having a warm cup of tea and watching the rain from the comfort of your home. or in this case, a café. the sound of rain is really calming, isn’t it? makes you forget about all your worries for a while, it’s just you and your cup of tea.”

again, sukuna didn’t reply for a while. you thought you’d bored him to death with your monologue until he spoke up: “i don’t see how it’s any different from having a cup at any time of the day.” your cup was placed back on the counter. you frowned, not sure how to explain it to him. in moments like these, sukuna seemed to be something of an old being that has seen everything, feelings now dull and locked away.

“well, see it like this. making yourself a cup of tea or coffee everyday is a normal thing to do, right? it happens almost automatically because it’s just part of your daily routine, you like how it tastes, it makes you feel more awake or helps you sleep. but… but you never really take your time to enjoy it, right?”

sukuna was contemplating, you almost giggled at the little frown on his face. but you were glad that he was willing to listen to you and discuss it with you, instead of dismissing the topic entirely. “but what does that have to do with rain?” he finally asked.

you pointed outside. “you wouldn’t really go out in this weather, right? not if you have any emergencies or urgent matters to attend to. and same goes for everyone else; it kind of… kind of forces you to stay inside, to fully enjoy your warm beverage. the sound of rain is pretty calming, it’s some kind of whitenoise that might block out intrusive thoughts, at least it does that for me. so it’s only you, the sound of rain and your cup of tea. for a few minutes, you can just relax and have a moment for yourself.”

sukuna still didn’t quite understand how humans worked. it’s been hundreds of years since he’s ceased to be human, he’s forgotten what is what like being human. what human emotions entailed. but he agreed, it has been a while since he’s felt at ease and peaceful even. it was a moment of bliss, a moment that caused a flare-up of old, buried feelings inside of him.

004.1

you still hadn’t mustered up the courage to actually ask sukuna out after you dragged him into that fake dating-situation. he did still come late at night, being the most loyal customer of the café at this point. it was almost… almost as if he’d seeked out your company. though he did tell you that he didn’t mind your company; your ego deflated a little. sukuna still wore his kimono but paired it with a thick winter coat - it was winter after all and the weather had been very extreme. the ground was covered in inches of snow and you hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. sukuna insisted on walking you home when your shift ended. you weren’t sure why because he’d never offered to do so before. you were thankful though since it was still snowing and the streets were completely empty; even though the snow looked beautiful, it was still a little eerie to walk home in this weather. especially since a lot of busses weren’t running anymore due blocked roads.

“sukuna, aren’t you cold?” you asked as you switched off the lights and fumbled with your keys. finally finding the right one, you closed up, shoving the keys back in your back and fishing out your gloves. “you don’t even wear gloves!” you gasped when you saw his bare hands, handing him one of yours. sukuna looked at you as if you were crazy.

he wasn’t cold but he couldn’t tell you that, couldn’t let you know that he was a curse. but handing him one of you gloves? you were too nice, always thinking of others first and never being selfish. sighing, he put on the glove that was uncomfortably small but he’d endure it for your sake.

“it’s been a while since we’ve had this much snow,” you mused and took a few steps around, giggling at the sound of crunching snow beneath your feet. sukuna simply followed you, looking comical with the bright yellow and tiny glove on his hand. you smiled at him, admiring how etheral he looked underneath the streetlights with the snowflakes flurrying around him and some getting stuck in his hair. your heart suddenly ached, a far away memory emerging. it was blurry and unclear, a cold night similar as this underneath the stars and a face staring at you. you couldn’t tell who it was nor were you sure whether it was just a case of déjà vu.

“you know, this kind of calls for a snowball fight,” you grinned at sukuna mischievously and grabbed some snow, beginning to form it into a ball. he raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, looking at you defiantly.

“i’m not going to indulge in childish business like th-” he didn’t get to finish his sentence as you hurled the snowball at him and giggled like a maniac as it hit his shoulder. you quickly hid behind a bush as you quickly tried to form another, enjoying the dumbfounded look on sukuna’s face. clearly, he didn’t expect you to follow through with your plan and was caught by surprise. “oh you’re on,” he growled after a moment and grabbed himself some snow as well. you quickly threw another snowball at him, this time only being able to hit his leg. eyes widening at the sight of sukuna raising his arm to throw his snowball at you, you let out a squeak and dove behind a tree - the snowball still hit you square on your back, making you yelp at the cold feeling.

for minutes you could only hear the crunches of snow, loud laughter and snowballs hitting objects. you sat on a bench, exhausted from running and ducking away and your belly was starting to hurt from all the laughter. sukuna caught up to you, juggling a snowball in his hands. “you gonna give up?” he asked, a smirk gracing his lips. clearly he was winning, being able to aim a lot better than you. you missed him most of the time but had fun regardless.

“never!” you replied, holding out your arms to defend yourself from the incoming snowball. it never came and instead sukuna was inching closer with an evil look in his eyes. oh no. what was he up to? you yelped when you realized that he was aiming for your neck, jumping up to get away from him. sukuna was quick to react and grabbed your arm, pulling you back into his chest and holding you close, smushing the snow against your neck. “ew sukuna, stop!” you laughed and squirmed in his arms until he threw the snowball away, rubbing your back gently.

“that was really cold, you know,” you pouted, burying your face in his chest.

he wrapped his arms around you, sighing quietly. “i know, i know, sorry.”

you swore that you felt his lips on the crown of your head.

005.

you were, undoubtedly, lost. your phone was about to die and you were stranded in the middle of the city, not sure where to go. to be fair, it was very, very easy to get lost here and it was your first time visiting. your grandparents lived here and while you’ve visited before, you couldn’t quite remember anything anymore. you were a child back then. and the city had drastically changed too, making it difficult for you to navigate yourself around. though your poor sense of direction was probably at fault as well. you sighed, trying to call your grandparents again. no one was picking up. you turned your phone off to save some of the battery, maybe you could call them later.

luckily, you’d brought your cameras so you could at least keep yourself busy until someone freed you from this misery. you walked towards the nearby shrine; there didn’t seem to be any people here, it was very quiet aside from the sound of cicadas. you took a few photos before continuing your journey, soon finding yourself standing on top of the hill. the view from here was breathtaking, even more so because the sun was starting to set, painting the sky in a beautiful yellow and orange hue. you fumbled with your camera again, trying to take a photo when someone suddenly moved into your shot. you paused and looked at the person in front of you who was staring at you as well. considering they were wearing a kimono, you assumed that they must work here. did you make a mistake? maybe you weren’t supposed to take photos and this person came to tell you off.

“i’m sorry!” you said quickly, quickly shoving your camera in your bag. “am i allowed to take photos here?”

the stranger frowned at you, clearing his voice before replying: “how am i supposed to know? i don’t work here.”

you groaned, rubbing your face in embarrassment. of course you’d say something wrong, you always did. and now you probably annoyed him too - he looked really annoyed. but since he wasn’t working here and there was no one else around, you guessed you could take photos after all. there was no one to tell you off anyways. however, the stranger was still standing there, looking at you in what seemed like interest. you felt awkward just continuing your endeavors without acknowledging him, so you asked: “do you live here? i’m just visiting, so i’m not very familiar with the city.”

“you could say that,” the stranger simply replied. when he didn’t say anything else, you decided that it probably was okay if you just continued taking photos without acknowledging him. though it did make you queasy, knowing that he was just watching you. didn’t he have anything else to do? a few minutes passed. he sighed and walked over, pointing at your camera. “what are you doing?” you were surprised at how straightforward he was, not expecting to engage in a conversation with you. maybe people in this city were just extra talkative and you’d have to get used to it. your grandparents never told you about this though.

“ah i’m visiting my grandparents here and i thought i’d document my stay here. so i can look at these photos whenever i want and just have the memories on photo,” you explained and rummaged in your bag to show him the polaroids you took earlier. “i particularly like polaroids because you can’t edit or change them… whatever moment you capture, it’s true to what you saw. there’s no need to make photos beautiful when they hold a special place in your heart and are tied to a specific memory.”

the stranger nodded, pointing to your polaroid camera. “and you take them with this device?” his choice of words startled you a little, he didn’t seem to be familiar with this type of camera which you found odd. everyone knew what these were nowadays, almost everyone owned them. but you didn’t want to judge him or make him feel stupid though, patiently explaining to him how the cameras worked and where he could purchase them. he seemed to be really interested, closely inspecting the camera, turning it around and fumbling with the buttons. only after you finished rambling, you realize how much time had passed - it was almost dark now and your grandparents were probably worried sick. your phone was turned off the entire time and you forgot to call them.

“excuse me, i really need to call my grandparents!” you looked at him apologetically, leaving him with your photos and camera. normally, you would be very wary; normally, you wouldn’t even show anyone your photos, rather keeping them to yourself because they were your precious memories. but something about him resonated with you, he seemed familiar and yet he didn’t.

you found a spot a few meters away from him calling your grandparents and profusely apologizing to them for not calling sooner. you promised them to wait at a popular and well known spot nearby so they could come to pick you up since it was already getting late, then hung up. to your relief, the stranger was still standing there, watching you intently. “thank you,” you smiled as he handed you your belongings. “my grandparents are picking me up soon, thank you for keeping me company. won’t you be going home soon?”

suddenly his face expression turned rather… sad? somewhat melancholic and you feared you’d said something wrong until he shook his head. “i have to go somewhere later. let me walk you for a bit, it is dark after all.” you looked at him a little dumbfounded, not expecting him to suggest something like that.

“oh you don’t have to! i’ll totally be fine, i-” “i want to. let’s go,” he interrupted you, already beginning to move. you hastily followed him, clutching your bag in your hands. the entire walk was rather silent, none of you saying a word. it wasn’t a tense and uncomfortable silence though - you very much enjoyed his presence. it made you feel safe too, even though you’d told him earlier that you didn’t mind walking by yourself, it was comforting to know that he was by your side. you were in an unfamiliar city after all. hell you even got lost, so who were you kidding. you wondered who the stranger was, what his story was, what his personality was like. this was a one time meeting though, so you didn’t really have any hope of meeting him again. that was very unlikely.

“okay this is the spot. my grandparents are going to pick me up here, so it’s okay if you go,” you pointed at a café and gave him a reassuring smile. he didn’t look impressed. “o-oh wait, i need to thank you somehow.” you held a finger up to signal him to wait for a bit and fished out a polaroid you’d taken earlier. it was a simple shot, only the temple, bits of the trees and the sunset in the background. but you thought it was appropriate, the two of you had shared this moment after all.

“here, this is for you. it’s not a lot but i guess… it’s a really nice photo and maybe the start of your collection, if you decide to get a polaroid camera?” he took the photo from you, inspecting it before nodding and thanking you. he looked like he was about to say something else but was interrupted by some bright car lights and the sound of honks.

“ah, i have to go! it was nice meeting you,” you bid farewell to him and waved, running towards the car. sukuna watched your figure retreat, arms dropping to his sides.

006.

it was so cold, so incredibly cold. you really hated disliked these long winters, the sky was constantly dull and grey, the days were short and you hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. it made you feel sluggish and unmotivated, you were just hoping that spring was coming earlier this year. you yearned for sunshine and warmth, to be able to go outside without freezing and just spend more time outside. regardless, you held onto your daily walks because they gave you some peace of mind in your hectic life. you were approaching the last year of your studies and the amount of exams, assignments and your looming thesis were just suffocating you. but soon, soon you were done and could finally take a breather, until then, the only moments of relaxation you’d have were your walks.

despite the cold, there were a lot of people near the park; children who were engaging in snowball fights, elderly who were walking their dogs and some joggers too. your eyes were wandering around, watching all the busy people around. too absorbed in your task, you didn’t notice the man in front of you until you bumped into him. you quickly removed your earbuds and apologized to him, about to continue walking when he suddenly grabbed your arm, holding you back. you were confused, did you maybe accidently hurt him when you bumped into him? you looked him up and down to make sure that he was okay; there really wasn’t anything wrong. he let go of your arm. “is something wrong?” you asked concerned and turned to him.

“y/n?”

you froze at the mention of your name. how did he know you?

“who are you? i’ve never met you before.”

in all your past lifetimes, you’d taught him how to be human again, how there was value and joy in even the littlest of things. with each iteration of your existence, sukuna thinks that he’s learned to love you more than the last. when he sees how at ease you are spending time with him, a curse that is feared by everyone, he contemplates confessing to you. but something holds him back, it’s the fear; the fear that you won’t return his feelings. he’s seen you be with someone else, see you fall in love countless of times. he yearns for it to be him, hoping that you do choose him, love him. for thousands of years, he’s spent his time finding you - your reincarnations don’t recognize him and it pains him to get to know you anew each time but nothing pains him as much as his existence. he wants to hold you, be yours, grow old with you.

for the first time in thousands of years, sukuna wishes to be human again.

ps.: i am so sorry if i hurt your heart there omg

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryoumen sukuna x you #sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fic: cynosure #writing

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