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libidomechanica · 5 months

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Yestreen, when he tried the nines

A treochair sequence

It’s a sin, and life yields; a honey Lip. He surpass her, save where I

often wearies all the dreams awake, for fear that you would run this

however this omission in his arms. She could love is no haþelez þat

hit hade wonde worþyly with dread, i’m a plain sae rashy, O, aboon

the whereof doth dwell in; so well? And made him free, but not a line had

Julia ever present, and hwen hit ofte, þat bremely taken he

sayned hym lykez. In me no more. With a reflection could be brought

myself a flaw discourage droop, despair; therefore I eþe þe, haþel, how

þay wroȝt. And the commes to come. Ne would have done with one glance on St.

Been a passion tis man we loved us. Which touches you with all her

kind; so she wept, and pleasure you. It is perfect fright but a tremulously

gentle canna be alright it’s gonna be your persons. Let

him but lent to die of Thirst. Each door; she lay clothed, she says tomorrow.

III

No dream of Heaven—from the heaviest tempest, it disdain’d to grow.

Upon the war; shall rise a gloue if hit be sothe þat he should brook a

wordless mind! And we schyn reuel and a day; now hyȝe, bot heterly receive:

for valour was not distinguishing lowe in her pillow. On golden

throne the world will the lamps around, all round her handle. To sing and

small pity mov’d, oh may wel wit no wont þe weder of ledez ar

on lenþe þe lufez vpon flet, of folȝande, in hor store; buy terms of my

wyrdes. Out went before to favourite science of þe Rounde Table.

I’m sensible, because is, one and þe halydam, and Kryst yow falles,

and let loose, or hers whom nakd the Tyrant in a vestal’s veins? A

second at the violet breath, bleed away; she rapt upon the panacea,

Sir! Of couardise and with þe best, not thus much the oceans roll!

Fro þe houndez, whettez hym ouer þe fest in Abraham’s bosom bounden,

in glade and þe gome in þe grene gered in the window and now

ȝe ar a sleper vnslyȝe, þat geten hem by a conniving still to

leave the rest. When she strove to thy heart re- sent; and so great use, in any

case; for thy pain, allow that grows; a school, the beares by being

mouth, extremely at home, with broader towards some euill were too slow, what were

the nest. Rhodes is the ineffable sense affords; sweet-gard’n-nymph, which mingle

act of immolation, heaven saw her sad ears like summer’s day;-

summer’s house I beheld the Mythological machinery, and syþen

he comes nerre without destroy the best he ne dyngez hym dresses, and

watched then by nature or thirty years, and provoked remark, or Jew; where

juries cast, where all his hode, and thine, an ignorant, noteless, timeless,

timeless, timeless, lastingly. The Northern front, and she was jealous

God, when share that Spring, tis surely and in the middle of being!

VII

And which I compile, who scorne, noiseless as the Spartan ladies þat

I haf sen a selly in mynde quen yow hider, er þis. My

love immortal work his should run through my unkind as you well knit: he

sees; on several pounds of hands that pious prayere, and he fyskez hem

harden into speed. Nor Loves commands despise, led by some time must come,

who both in your love a white cape on the woods. In menyng of monster

to have on displace, I can say is—that he might be saved, and with solace

of þe proude cropure, his man we love. And so have put my madness

seized my nursling new—like that sun thine eyes, attemper not been quiet.

VIII

Of lies, a meré mantile abof, menske þe mon on þe morn to fylle

þe godmon, þis gomen bygan, or some luckier night, o

carefull verse. Shall I part musk or civet can wake at nigh expell’d St.

Ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightens, and noȝt haf leue

liflode to take as knyȝtez vnder, þurȝ mony meruayle hym poȝt ful

longe quyle. Although from Indus to the comic Muse; nor envy her.

At having mind of the mind and so þikke, a stede stif kyng he most

atrocious. But with no doubt, it equally desire, swore lustily

he’d be revenge too deere force shall place so proude skyrtez, þe hede, and sturne,

and pass over the way to mine ear, The boisterous, just another land.

And then run away as thou and I am not to ask his mother.

Assist the point; the spiders throwes onely downe on me thundring

disdained, the first notes, irregular and squirm newly as from a sip

of hem, soft he settled graves are taxes on our joys to telle yow

here: iwysse sir, quyl I leue, me worþed þe broun bleeaunt, enbrauded abof,

menske þe mon may seem so many times, indeed a vertebra to

the flaw-blown rose, even as thy lovest thou no singing, each, the valiant

man! Brief, but know not wear your worth al þe wone of his brutal kind

of crews as renegadoes; which now this she presents lean em, ’t is

strained heavens fall into all she made vpon molde his day; but oh! Naked

in the conceit did melt me down to me, I can’t say, a Jew took off

his lyue; ofte he herd þe howndez þat his balȝe haunche, þat he mette, he

made at leisure with Juan. At the quiet scenes appeared, she uttermost,

I should under hand sharply that rose, and all must love the present; i’m

sensible, I trust that neither children leap, and pray for a hundred

visions and fickle Man is apt to rove: look abroad thro’ the Hebrew

Chronicle, how often wearies all things was angry when their clients,

because man is no dream is fled, by the smart. Then—i never durst begin

to do it for I bayþe hit now her height, or raise him first they seem

strange, how idle seem’d they be more uniform. And more triumphant prize.

XII

Whom these woods. And the land: betwixt extremes, but coasts of many a herle

of þis ryche ryal kyng of arwes— at vch farand fest among

the forth strydez, foundez þay þer þay wyth in oþer gome wyth blys into

þe Norþe Walez. Could sit down on the flocks do feede, where are the Fates change

ere night proclaim the clearer, farther awake, and þe leude and here I

sought; and the beautiful each and ages hence: two roads diverged in a

wicked people do, suffering blind mans marke, thou dost stay. Had not seem very

well, or pandering but the vision, which two cantos into

familiar guest. If any were boun busked bylyue. To all his steedes in

lowlye laye, and sayde soberly samen alle þat mon most dissemblings

when wearied on my spirit, unaware: Though all its range of duties

totall summe men hit hym þoȝt. And some mould, the little goes a long moment

was as one who have burnt each hapless name, a wretched the Donna

Julia and Don Fernan Nunez? And saw but soon wheel roun’, an’ I saw

a crowd pursue: night a countenaunce, emong the hasp of love. Melissa,

tinged with slow and connection, but can’t tell whether took the other

joys to pray turn your lofte, and of air—Rome’s ghost not own, but the past.

XIII

Half in dreams. My Spectre folly: thou steal to me, you that compass of

water we can be set withinne with as god wylle—and ho hym respite,

invade and my pretty gentleness the crowned, their languid eyes would

it have been wived, and cemmed, wyth to karp, til þe mon and catch at

any noke I oquere fynd, to end the brain that which the other in

the literary leaves with his happy mother to sing my Highland

Lassie, O. Survey the pedigree his sires would look, as roll the sea

of sorrows whence after-hands may move the heart in that bene with her

walour and govern the rack, and then two myle henne. And heave, as

in a harde as fresh—for he Music to heaven’s decease.

XIV

My hand tightens, and are as beauteous bride, and we are and unexplaining,

with a short-legged hen, if we can scarce held her writhing, my woe now

wasted fruit of love; so to his course of China brought with your leave me

not any other booty sought forgetfulness. Yet, when push’d by questions;

never saw. And file they labour to my turf, and þe halle, herande

for to come—Well, to reche myȝt, as I am, first inadvertent

brush the flower on earthlie mould’ring to the Turkish mart, her voice kept her

golde ay inmyddez, as his first creature, and Care: how lonely men speded

hom to hay is grassye ground of time to marriage is fledde, these books: hope.

Light, he told of those queers i remember. The terrace ranged aspect thrown;

each ravishers remained, flaming hair, and sacred be her father was

wildly clad; her eyes can see myself—me— that I do and why we came,

rank on rank; he gave way; him self might me; while life’s strange Poet-princess:

Lady Psyche and hornez ful ryche. ’Er this I heard by falling, Oh.

Received thing their happy herse, make we mery quyl we may have you more

tame flower singing, each, then, ’ said he, Out went to grasp. A thing and oar

of Adria’s god of pleasant city, and scimitars await thy weeding;

but where delightful lily of yourself here þeraboute abelef

as a busk ouer his dirty fee, and lose thronge, with little plants of

man the wakes up and ful siker my trawþe.— A true Hidalgo, free and

sayde þe behoues. Always remember you is here! Resting still shows, kill

me with þe hede of þe bitter Eldre braunch, laments of alabaster.

XVI

And laȝter. To the watch’d her own; this most dear excepting nature holds

out half undo it. Be better learning to lasse luf in his grave never

heart her could not see thy widows, she resolved on air that cause thou

mayst attune thy quill, and, turn’d, and the long carpet lies: o write within,

which old- recurring wash of a Good Son, who his Dominion sweet to

her beloved nor yet recover. And wyth knotted rushrings, and catch

at any of thee, gaze o’er a name, above the style, and Cymon

suddenly forgive, though fame is my loof, i’m thine eyes the teacups, after

thee, and crispeth with chosen friend, do you feel no more, but took a new

one from the fabulous folds of Time, perhaps that before the Flood, and

yet rolls on thy stead performed of golde; þe werbelande wynde wapped fro

þe fale erþe; ner slayn for gode of þe ȝonge; much steuen, and þat, for we

hold Thee just, and I strove to weep. At last, who had fallen—on this sere

pyne, þat day dele his fare þat he þurȝ þis fryth and her maids tenderness.

Lemons, and lyȝt horce launce. Must be born were boun busked on þat rurde

he of þe fayrer to his bed hym drynk, and latent in a curbside

pool. With pain and felaȝschyp forbe al þyng, his chek for new joy; but oh!

XVII

The shadows haunting now. Thou by the spouse: her college and all the heroes

of his rage and þe goddess of gods adultery, is more

reconciling ray, and winds arise, a bastard vile, a beast with stupidly

admire how thou canst sit, and to his luflych aloft lepez

ouergrowen; wel bisemed, and look’d, and touches you with alle þe lorde

fyrst cource in þe colde erþe to welcome her son so—i’m very certain

the one POU STO whence around. A naked in a letters in her legs’

sincere the Beadsman, after all, that unfair which, with Mador de la

Port. For there we weep; and so that they call these stone where were time of on

wyȝes þat knit ar þerinne, þat I wear those who champion’d his arms were joined.

XVIII

Had given her soft lips lie apartment in the hallow’d by the difference

me, hate were ye as poor guide. One asked, how great’s the song, although please

to frame: enough still left to sanctify the deuce they sought; and held her

thou darest in my view set all this is the beil’, where the wrong on the

dead world is dimme and gomenly he sayde, now, sir swete, boþe þe barres of

talkyng noble, wich spede is in speche, for many a flowers, mother

know, but then the Hand of children still to dote upon the last: a

peacefully! Selling everywhere, art still the soot that two at Conway dwell.

XIX

Til þe sunne, þe stel hondelez, dubbed wyth ful comly bykennen to

rest by cool Eurotas they will say, when separate cages, instead of

sunshine and ink for schame! Ran before the stage. Generate mind. Is much

to pleased amid their former friend remember how the vows I made. Your

name in ordinary place? And þou hatz forred, and said … Nay, we loved

his pain, and hade ben soiourned sadly; sele yow be chose a morsel

he and Juan throttled him of calling too. Have, to rent her sleep of death.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #199 texts #treochair sequence

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i-want-candy · 2 years

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Space Camp [Part One: Moving In] ! [Canvan]

In which Vanessa and Candace arrive in their apartment for the summer...[takes place: June 27, 2022]

@vanecessary-conditions

[tw -- none!]

CANDACE: It had been a loooong trip from England to California.

Three planes, a taxi, and an argument with the landlord later, Candace and Vanessa stumbled into their furnished, sublet apartment. She glanced around, squinting in the vestiges of sun peeking through the closed blinds, looking for a light switch. The apartment was small. Cute. It already had art on the walls, decorated in a clean bohemian vibe. The dish soap on the counter in the kitchenette was half used. This was an apartment that was lived in. Which was kind of a weird feeling, but Candace didn’t think much about it. She didn’t have the brain space.

Candace and Vanessa hadn’t spoken much on the trip. They didn’t book their seats together, so they didn’t really see each other until baggage claim, at which point they were both too tired and grumpy.

“Ugh. I know that airplanes are an amazing feat of modern engineering,” she said as she felt along the wall for the switch, “but I wish we had already invented time travel. I’m knackered. And starving.” The lights flickered on and Candace squinted. “Ugh. Should we order food?”

She left her suitcase by the door and flopped, face first, onto the couch.

VANESSA: It was a nice apartment. Much nicer than her dorm, anyway. Not that her dorm wasn’t nice, but it was good to have separate bedrooms and also an actual kitchen. Not that Vanessa ever cooked much, but y’know, it would be good not to bump into the Henry Charmings of the world.

Vanessa stepped into the kitchen now, poking around the pantry while Candace fell on the couch. It wasn’t surprising that the people subletting this place didn’t leave any food… but Vanessa was still hopeful. She was the master at finding free food on campus and taking advantage of any and all university events that gave out free Pizza Planet.

But… as it turns out her skills did not necessarily translate to vacant apartments.

“Ugh, yeah I’m starving,” said Vanessa, standing on her tiptoes to open a cabinet above the sink. It had some wine glasses in it, but nothing else. She glanced at Candace, facedown on the couch, her bright hair splayed all over it. Vanessa felt an inexplicable urge to tug on her hair, like they were kids on the playground or something. It was weird. Vanessa jerked her head away and opened the empty fridge, studying the light intently.

“Wanna do, like, Taco Bell or something? I miss some good crappy tex-mex.”

CANDACE: “Oh, shit. We’re in America again!” Candace’s head popped up at the thought and she pushed herself onto her elbows, so she could get out her phone.

“I could go for some Taco Bell. Baja Blast, my beloved. England has nothing on American fast food. Especially in stupid Swynlake.” With their stupid no-chain rule or whatever.

She pulled up GrubHub and changed the address, scrolling through the options idly. “There is also In-and-Out and Subway nearby,” she commented. “Taco Bell still sounds best to me. You want something? I can put our order in. It’ll get here in twenty. Perfect. Just enough time to shower. I gotta get this travel off of me. Er—“

Right. There was only one bathroom.

“Were you gonna shower?”

VANESSA: Vanessa had never actually tried In-and-Out, since that seemed like a big California thing, but she agreed that Taco Bell sounded the best. Especially with the surge of unfamiliar stuff going on, she wanted something simple and comforting (and she had a vendetta against Subway, having worked in the local one all through high school). She was about to rattle off her order (a Crunchwrap supreme and a bean burrito, with one large baja blast and also some cinnamon twists), when Candace mentioned showering.

For some reason, Vanessa blushed. As if they hadn’t shared a bathroom for two years already. As if they hadn’t gotten into stupid fights about Vanessa showering late at night and Candace leaving her blowdryer on the sink.

“Uh, you can go first. I’ll be around to pick up the order. I’ll shower after, when I’m covered in Fire sauce and nacho cheese — oh, do you wanna split nachos?” She flopped onto one of the tall chairs at the kitchen counter.

CANDACE: “Ew,” Candace said, but she snorted a laugh as she typed in her order. Her head tilted as she considered Vanessa’s ask. “Sure, I could go for nachos.”

Which was kind of weird, because once upon a time, Candace wouldn’t have shared anything with Vanessa. But, well, a lot had changed. She wasn’t sure what…exactly. If you asked her, she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint it. There wasn’t just one inciting incident. It wasn’t the Big Bang. It was more like…evolution. It happened slowly, over time. Until now, she didn’t mind the idea of sharing nachos or sharing an apartment for the summer.

“What’s your order?”

Vanessa told it to her and Candace clicked the items. “Oh man, this is gonna be so good. I can’t wait to shower and eat and nap and then put my clothes away.” They were going to be here for a few months! Of course Candace was going to put her clothes in the dresser drawers and closet. She was the kind of person who unpacked her suitcase in a hotel.

“Okay. Order should be here by 2:00pm. I feel like I should be self-conscious about the time, but whatever. It’s California, I feel like they’ve had weirder.” She slid off the couch then and dragged her suitcase back to the room that they’d already agreed would be Candace’s. It was a little bigger, so she was paying like 20$ more, but that was worth it to her. She unzipped her suitcase, got out her shower stuff and then padded back down the hall.

“Hey!” she called around the corner towards the living room, before stepping into the bathroom. “Don’t eat my food if it gets here before I get out or I’ll kill you. Okay, bye.” She closed the door.

#swynvanessa #canvan #space camp arc #moving in #short and sweet #establishing para #and a tease ;)

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theycallmebun · 2 years

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to leave a small town

pairing: yachi hitoka x fem!reader

w/c: 1120+

warnings: crying?, third-year au, talks about college:/

genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers type beat

summary: y/n has outgrown this small small town and yachi dreads the day you’ll finally leave without coming back. and forget her.

You were gone the whole summer, of course you had changed.

Yachi knew it was more than the superficial stuff like the hair and clothes. It was much more. It was the way you acted free-er and just different. Different from your small hometown-girl self. Bigger than that girl. Happier than that girl.

She’d hate to admit it but it was obvious that Miyagi was just tying you down and you didn’t wish to be there any longer. In just a year, you’d be gone and Yachi wouldn’t know the first thing to do without you.

She’d spent almost the entirety of middle school and most of high school dancing around you, too scared to confess her feelings for you so she settled for a friend. Just hoping one day you’d notice.

To see you so much happier to have been away from Miyagi and from her, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was her driving you from this town. You weren’t really that close with anyone else so what other reason could it be? Yes, there’s always the possibility of more fitting schools in that area or a better environment, but the thought plagued Yachi. For months.

It was all you could talk about when you started school again. There’s this and that and this and that.

Halfway through the school year, you’d gone back to the new city for holiday. Yachi just stayed at home, biting her nails and putting together some designs she’d meant to finish when she had time. She thought about calling you but couldn’t stand to even think about the “newfound” you. Yachi knows it’s selfish but she can’t help it. You’re her only real friend outside of the volleyball boys and what you have is special for her.

When you come back, it is all set in stone.

“I found a school over there, Yach. It’s perfect,” you tell her the first time you meet after break.

“Oh, really? Everything you’re looking for?” Yachi asks, looking for an ounce of fault to keep you in Miyagi.

“Everything, Yachi. It’s like it’s calling me,” you respond with so much joy, Yachi isn’t sure she’s ever heard you like this before.

“That’s great, Y/N. It’s good you know now where you’re going after high school,” she replies, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

“After high school…” she repeats in a whisper.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure of what she just mumbled.

“N-nothing. But, yeah, it’s good you know.”

“I just need to get out of this town,” you add.

“Why?” Yachi questions.

“It’s just so small and the world is so big. I don’t want to be in Miyagi forever. And there’s so many people. New people.”

Oh is what she thinks.

“Yeah, new people,” Yachi repeats after you while shoving her hands in her pockets and looking downward.

‘Maybe, we should continue talking about this later,’ Yachi thinks. So she changes the subject, successfully getting you to talk about some movie or something, Yachi can’t remember.

Fast forward to spring and the conversation needs to be had again. The third years have all finished taking their entrance exams already and students await the responses.

With all the free time you guys have, it’s only logical she invites you over to her place.

So you go over, eat some food, watch some movie you wanted to show Yachi, and then get to the talking.

“Aren’t you excited, Hitoka? We’re finally going to college and we’re going to live like adults and just get away.”

“I’m… not going away, Y/N. You’re going away. To some great big city with great new people you’re dying to meet,” Yachi admits sadly.

“Don’t say it like that, Yach. It’s a part of life. Of course we’re going to meet new people.”

“Sure, Y/N,” Yachi says as she looks down, avoiding your eyes and trying to stop the tears from falling.

You notice and are instantly worried.

“Hey, hey, Hitoka, what’s wrong?” you ask as you inch closer.

Yachi avoids you by backing up to get the chance to clear her head for a minute.

“Sorry, sorry, Y/N, I try really hard not to be like this when we have these conversations.”

“It’s just… you have a whole other life planned in that city already. You’re ready to meet new people and be in a new environment and to be without me. Of course, I want you to stay but you look so happy talking about this place and you look so dreary when you talk about staying in Miyagi. So you go to that city, that school, and forget about me. Meet those people you want to meet and see the things you want to see. Forget about this town and forget about me. I couldn’t tie you down even if I wanted to.” Yachi doesn’t know when, but some time during her little speech, she started crying.

And when she looked up, she saw you were crying.

She didn’t know what to expect from you, but for a moment, it’s silent.

“Hitoka, I love you, ok?”

“No, no- don’t tell me that right now, Y/N,” she says in frustration, rubbing her eyes.

“Listen, listen, ok? Yes, I’m excited to start this new part of my life but nowhere did I say it was going to be without you. I know we are going to be apart but I am going to come back, ok? I was never ever going to just leave you here, Hitoka. Understand? I need you,” you tell her.

Yachi has her eyes sealed shut, while nodding, trying to believe what you say is true. She only opens her eyes when she feels your hand on her face and your thumb rubbing her tears away.

“I don’t want to forget about you. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me,” you whisper before kissing her.

“I’m going to come back, I promise you that. And we’ll have every moment before I leave.”

“Ok,” Yachi whispers to you as her forehead is pressed against yours.

“I– I thought it was because of me,” she admits.

“What?” you ask incredulously.

“I thought you were leaving because of me.”

“Yach, I swear you’d be the last thing to drive me from Miyagi,” you reassure her.

She giggles and it’s the sweetest sound on God's green Earth.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You already did. You don’t have to ask aga-”

So you kiss her like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get. Yachi can tell it’s desperate and yearning but that makes it all the more better.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

“Let’s make this time the best, yeah?” you ask her.

“Yeah.”

#hitoka yachi x reader #yachi hitoka #yachi x fem!reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #yachi scenarios #yachi hurt/comfort #yachi x reader #wlw

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

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Hi there! Can I request a Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo!Reader, that's more hurt-comfort? I'm thinking that they're both 18-19 and bump into each other after their messy breakup when they were 15-16 and young and dumb and it's slightly awkward but they still both desperately love each other? Feel free to tie it up however you'd like! Thank you so much <3

This is my first PJO request so thank you so much! I hope that you enjoyed.

Note: Per the request this will feature a daughter of Apollo, but you should be able to switch it up in your head a little to match yourself if your godly parent isn’t Apollo.

ALSO there is a tiny bit of Annabeth bashing in this (I’m so sorry cause I love Percabeth) but know that this is just for the fic’s purpose!

Not Broken, Just Bent

(I feel like these lyrics sorta match their relationship so that’s why this is the title!)

Y/N had been fifteen years old when she had dated Percy Jackson for a year. And gods, it was the best year of her life. She had met Percy at Camp Half-Blood but they began Y/N had enrolled into his high school. She had been the daughter of Apollo and a mortal who knew of the Godly world, and she had dropped her off at Camp Half-Blood when she was born. So Y/N had never seen what life was like outside the boarder, but when she finally did, she had Percy there to guide her.

They had a fantastic time. He helped Y/N connect to some other relatives and they went to the beach together. It wasn’t long before they fell in love. However, when the summer rolled around, Annabeth came. Y/N had always been a little bit intimidated of Annabeth, but she also instantly recognized that the daughter of Athena had a crush on Percy. This stemmed the root of their breakup, as Percy was oblivious to her feelings. They soon got into fights, as Y/N was too oblivious to recognize that Percy was oblivious. She thought he liked Annabeth and he accused her of being jealous. It didn’t end well.

Since then, Y/N had “graduated” from Camp Half-Blood and was living in the mortal world. She hadn’t been there to here what Camp Jupiter was so she didn’t know she could go to New Rome. Percy, on the other hand, was healing from a couple months of being broken up with Annabeth. And as he did . . . He couldn’t help but think back to the woman before Annabeth. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing now . . .

So you could imagine his surprise when he was going to take his shift of patrolling the boarders and saw Y/N just barely past, having dropped to her knees. She was beaten and bruised and the very sight glued Percy to his place momentarily.

“Y/N?” Percy said, snapping back to reality. He thought that just for a moment that he had been imagining her because he was thinking about her, but he knew it was real when she let out a small cry of pain. The brunette rushed to her side.

“Y/N, what happened? You need to tell me where you’re hurt?” Percy said. He forgot all about how complicated their break-up had been and was only concerned about her well-being. There was worry glossing over his eyes as he didn’t know whether to take her arm or if that would hurt her, so he opted to putting a hand under her chin and tilting her head up.

Y/N’s eyes met his. She looked exhausted. “Monsters . . . They’ve been chasing me quite a lot recently . . . So I came here . . . One came out when I was almost at the boarder and I lost my sword . . .” With that, her head slumped forward and Percy grasped her shoulders as she passed out.

“SHIT,” Percy cursed loudly. He pushed her so she was still on her knees but upright, and then put his hands underneath her armpits. Percy then pulled her up with himself as he stood up, and maneuvered himself so at he was by her side so he could put one arm under her legs and the other around her back to pick her up. The Demigod did his best not to injure Y/N any further, and then took off for the medbay.

“WILL!” Percy yelled, bursting inside. The blonde teenager looked up and was alarmed to see his friend carrying his sister. Percy hurriedly explained what Y/N had told him, stumbling over his words as he was desperate. He was helpless as Will took Y/N from his arms and laid her on the bed.

“We’ll have to wait until she’s awake to give her ambrosia,” Will muttered.

“When will she wake up? Is there anything I can do to help? Is she okay?” Percy rambled out, glancing between him and his sister.

Will thought for a moment. “Can you grab some bandages? They’re in the back,” he said.

Percy nodded, nearly tripping over his chair as he stood up. He grabbed all of the bandages he could see and came back, basically shoving them into Will’s lap.

He then watched, tapping his foot anxiously, as Will wrapped her head which was bleeding and her wrist and ankle.

After finishing, Will stood up and got some ambrosia.

“That won’t be enough to heal all of her injuries,” Percy noted.

“I know, but if she takes too much then she’ll get feverish and we don’t want that,” Will said. “We can’t control what the ambrosia heals when she has multiple injuries, so let’s hope her head gets healed.”

Will put the ambrosia on her bedside table, and that’s when Nico burst in, out of breath.

“Training room - someone needs hurt,” Nico panted out, and Will nodded.

“Let me know when she wakes up,” Will said to Percy, and then added, “And take good care of my sister.”

Percy nodded and his attention returned to Y/N as Will and Nico left. He sighed, not left alone with his thoughts. He had realized when he held her and worried about her, that being in love with her never really went away . . . And that love was much more purse and heartwarming than his love for Annabeth. With Annabeth, he loved her, but maybe he wasn’t in love with her . . . Because it was difficult. He always worried about messing up or saying the wrong thing, but with Y/N, even if he was concerned for her, he remembered how comfortable it was to be with her, and how much she cared for him.

Oh, gods. He still loved Y/N. He was still in love with her.

He took a deep breath, and the only thing keeping him from beginning to freak out was when he noticed Y/N started to open her eyes. Percy waited with baited breath until she fully woke up and looked around.

“Percy?” She said, and he saw that she was confused.

“Hey,” he said softly, giving her the ambrosia. “A monster attacked you and you passed out. I took you back here - take this.”

Y/N nodded and took the ambrosia, shoving it into her mouth. After a couple of moments she groaned. “The dam ambrosia only healed my bruises and my wrist - not my head or ankle,” she said.

“If we give you anymore ambrosia you’ll become feverish,” Percy said, and couldn’t help but feel sad that she was in pain.

There were a couple of moments where they sat in silence, and that silenced allowed the awkwardness to grow like water allowed a plant to blossom.

“Thank you for, uh, taking me here,” Y/N said as their silence was creeping up upon a minute.

“Of course, of course,” Percy said immediately. “How have you, er, been doing?”

Y/N sighed. She was just going to go back to her normal life after this, so what did she lose in telling him the truth, anyway? Maybe she’d even get some closure from it.

“I know this is silly, but . . . I tried to move on from you and I never . . . Found someone that I loved and wanted to be with like you,” she was admitted, toying with the bed’s sheets.

She waited for Percy to tell her that he was happy and dating someone that was great and that he had moved on from her. So now it was Y/N’s turn to be surprised when he said the last thing she ever would have thought of.

“With you, today, I realized I still loved you, Y/N. I did date Annabeth after us but we broke up. You, though, you’re amazing . . . And you were right. She did like me. So I’m sorry about how our relationship ended - I’m sorry what I said to you. When you’re better . . . I’d love go out for coffee or something. Honestly, I never knew how much I was missing you until today, and I’m still in love with you, even more than Annabeth,” he told her, and that scared himself a bit. This realization came onto him so suddenly, but he was so, so happy when he did say it. He never stopped being in love.

Y/N looked over at him, her eyes widened. Seeing his smile, it was contagious. She smiled as well, and reached out to take his hand. “I’d love that,” she said, softly, forgetting about her pain.

Percy chuckled and squeezed her hand - and that’s when Will interrupted.

“Aye, Jackson! Lay off my patient, okay?” Will said jokingly.

Percy laughed and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“It’s good to see you, too, bro,” she said.

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janiedean · 3 years

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... the tyrion/sansa hairdresser/mortician au no one was expecting but happened

well @meri-vaahtoaa I TOLD YOU IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN TODAY AND IT HAPPENED, have a for now untitled tyrion/sansa mortician/hairdresser au inspired by this post with bonus guest star jeyne p. u___u don't look for angst, also extremely background mentioned jb plus jaime & bronn being themselves in the backstory, have fun u__u

This fucking teaches me to be drunk around both my brother and Bronn, Tyrion thinks for the umpteenth time as he keeps on walking - he needs a damned salon and he needs it now but he also had to get out of the neighborhood because like hell he’s going to risk running into anyone who knows his father. That’s the… least thing he needs, honestly, as if his life choices aren’t already something he has to fight for every other moment and he can’t fucking wait to be out of the house, which should be soon -

If he doesn’t get thrown out of his internship because of his horrible drunk choices.

Why did they have drinks together, why did they have drunk bets, why did he bet with Jaime that he would dye his hair bright blue if he stopped beating around the bush and confessed to the bartender that he’s been into her since they started coming to that specific place for drinks because he chickened out of it for months, except -

Except Jaime went and did it and it turned out that she actually had been looking back and Tyrion hadn’t been wrong in that assessment, but then he had to do it and he actually went and used a do it yourself dye and -

Well.

He honestly can’t go and start his apprenticeship with blue hair that’s also… well, not even professionally dyed, and considering the arguments that it created the least thing he needs is going somewhere he’d be recognized.

So, he’s plenty out of the neighborhood, but he hasn’t found someplace that felt… well, not extra fancy. The second-least thing he needs is extra fancy shops where people would send looks his way that he could absolutely do without.

Also, it’s fucking hot. Why did he do that in the middle of summer again? And why couldn’t he have bet something more reasonable - right, it was Bronn’s idea and they were drunk. Fuck.

He walks a bit more, wondering if maybe he should sit down and check on Google Maps if he’s ended up in the only area of the city that doesn’t have any, and then he sees one on the other side of the road - fine, he stopped because he wondered who names a hair salon Beauty and the Beast, but it costs nothing to have a look from the outside, right?

He crosses the street and walks up to the door.

First thing, the pricing list outside it looks… well, it’s not cheap, but it’s certainly not the ridiculous fares they ask where his sister goes to have her hair done, which is exceedingly good since he doesn’t want to spend a salary’s worth of an average office employee to get that blue crap out of his hair. He looks through the glass door - there is just one woman inside getting her hair done, which is also good because the least people around the shorter the wait, it certainly does look clean and while the pastel aesthetic is maybe a bit too much for his tastes - everything is a pastel shade, from the light yellow on the floor to the pale pink and violet of the chairs and the powder blue of the walls… well, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to it, and the woman on the chair is chatting amicably with the chestnut-haired girl doing her hair and doesn’t look like she hates being there or like she chose the wrong shop.

Also, it’s two PM and he knows this is going to take long. He can hardly afford to fuck around much longer.

He pushes the door open and walks into the shop.

“Welcome!” The chestnut-haired girl says, giving him a nice smile. “Sorry if I don’t come over, but if you sit for a minute my colleague will be back from her coffee break shortly.”

“Sure,” he says, “no hurry,” and he goes sitting on one of the pale violet chairs on the side - they’re comfortable, at least, and he considers taking out the book he brought with to pass the time, but then -

“Hello and welcome! Can I get you a glass of water” Someone else chirps from his side, and right, he did hear the door open -

Oh.

“Hi,” he blurts, staring into a pair of lovely blue eyes belonging to supposedly the other girl working here - she has long auburn hair styled in a french braid and is wearing a blue summer dress that pairs with her eyes perfectly and she’s smiling down at him as if she’s not horrified by his horrid dye-job, or by his presence in the first place, which is his general experience in this kind of shops, so - that’s good, at least. “And uh, thanks,” he says, realizing he is thirsty.

“Be right back! Sorry, I was taking my break but we have no appointments today, so I’ll be on your case very soon.”

She goes to the corner of the room and grabs a glass of water from a dispenser, then brings it to him - shit, he needed it.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Er,” he says, “I dyed that hair for a bet but I was called for an internship yesterday, and I start on Monday, so… I need a removal. If it’s possible.”

The girl leans closer, taking a good look at his hair.

“Hm,” she says, “it might take a while, but I think it’s possible. It’s not a very good dye job, if I can say so.”

He snorts. “Oh, you can. Please, I did it and I have regretted it every moment since.”

“Well,” she nods, “you’re lucky that most likely no one will show up for anything complicated today then. Jeyne, can you handle other customers in case?”

“Sure,” the chestnut-haired girl replies. “As if I don’t know you’ll have the time of your life.”

She rolls her eyes, then goes to a wardrobe in the corner and finds him a towel, tucks it around his neck and lowers a chair near the small sinks at the bottom of the shop so he can sit on it - he does, feeling extremely thankful that it’s extremely comfortable leather, and he can hear her tutting about bad dyes under her breath as she washes his hair once, twice, thrice, and her fingers feel really good on his scalp but he’s not going to think about that now.

“Just for the record,” she asks as she rinses it, “do you just want the dye to go away or do you want a cut, too?”

“Hell,” he says, “I need to look presentable. I suppose the cut can’t hurt.”

“Will do,” she chirps again, “and by the way, never use that kind of dye again. Not with hair this nice.”

Tyrion would have toppled off the chair if his head wasn’t thrown too far back for it to happen.

“I have nice hair now?”

“You can feel it,” she replies, “under all this… this,” she says, shaking her head.

“I know,” he says, “bad choices.”

“Extremely,” she goes on, rinsing. “But don’t you worry. I’ll have it fixed.”

“Really,” chestnut-haired girl says, “Sansa is a pro with that kind of thing. You’re in good hands.”

Oh. So her name is Sansa. It’s pretty, he thinks.

“Well,” he says, “I can’t wait to see how you manage it. I’m Tyrion, by the way. Figures you should know if I know yours?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she goes on, and gives his hair a last rinse. “Right, can you move forward?” He does and she dries his hair with the towel, then goes to find a mantel that somehow he doesn’t drown in. “Please,” she says, “on whichever free chair you prefer.”

He picks an empty one two spots away from Jeyne and the other woman and lowers it so he can sit down, and then Sansa raises it up again until his still sadly blue head is at the right height.

“Hm,” she says, grabbing a lock and feeling it between her fingers, “from what I see here you’re a natural blonde?”

“Sort of,” he shrugs. He is - his hair isn’t as golden as his siblings’, but it definitely is on that shade. Not that he ever bothered to look into it. “Wait,” he says, fishing into his pocket, and then he grabs his phone and shows her a picture Bronn took of him and Jaime during Tyrion’s latest birthday party which is about the only one of his he’s kept there where you can see his actual color very well. She takes it, squints, zooms on his head, then nods and hands him back the phone.

“Well,” she says, “we’re going to have to use a color remover to take out the blue pigment, then apply some more pigment to allow for the proteins in the hair to adhere to it. Then… yeah, possibly mix a few different types of toners to reach the goal of your natural hair color, and it’s going to take a while, but we should get there. Nothing that terrible.”

“Er,” he blurts, “how much chemistry did you have to study to get there?”

She smiles a bit wider.

“Yeah, I know, but some people don’t like if we talk like that. It makes it sound complicated, I’m told.”

“Not at all,” he says, waiting as Jeyne, who has finished the other woman’s hair, goes to the back room to presumably get Sansa at least the color remover, “not like it’s not… sort of my thing, too,” he says, and then he bites his own tongue - why did he ever do that, now she’s going to decide he’s a creep or something -

“Really,” she says as Jeyne comes back and hands her the remover, “do lean your head back. And what it is that you do?”

He takes a deep breath and tells her.

—

“Oh, so you’re a mortician?” Sansa says happily as she keeps on applying the remover to his hair, her fingers pressing along his scalp as she rubs it in. To her credit, she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s creepy.

“Well, apprentice,” he shrugs, “but yeah, working on it. And starting an internship soon. Where I can’t… look like this. But yes. Just going through my degree - I had a final a couple days ago. Fuck, it was so embarrassing.”

“Did they judge your hair?”

“Called it apocalyptic, but I aced it.”

“Nice. What was it about?”

“Embalming, mostly,” he sighs. “All the chemistry about formadelhyde I had to learn.”

“Fun fact,” Sansa grins, “do you know they use it in clothing?”

… He somehow had not known that.

“What? Really? They forgot to cover that part.”

“Well,” Sansa says, “I used to crash fashion school lessons, my brother’s boyfriend snuck me in. I learned a lot. I think it’s because of the preserving qualities, though I’m sure it wasn’t… all of it.”

“I mean,” Tyrion blurts, “it’s a preservative but it’s also a disinfectant. Destroys bacteria and their food supply, and it’s a dehydrator, there’s a reason why we use it that much.”

“Hm,” Sansa nods, starting to put aluminium stripes on his hair - fuck, he looks ridiculous like this, “one wonders why you don’t just use alcohol then? Because I thought it was kind of carcinogen.”

Well, she did listen to those lessons for sure.

“It’s cheaper,” Tyrion sighs, “a lot cheaper. It cuts costs. Guess I’ll resign myself to the cancer risk.”

She snorts. “Please,” she says, keeping on placing those stripes carefully, “I’m pretty sure that’s exaggerating a bit. There, they should rest for half an hour. I have to place a few calls now but if you want to read while I’m at it feel free to, just don’t move your head around too much.”

“Roger that,” Tyrion nods, and settles back in the chair.

He has a feeling it’s going to be long, but at least she’s very good company. Jeyne looks about to say something but then another woman comes in the shop and she goes to greet her, and Tyrion goes back to his Chinese sci-fi book that he’s really enjoying and hopes that at the end of it he doesn’t have to shave his head because that dye was that bad.

—

Half an hour later, after washing away the remover, Sansa has moved on to applying the first round of pigment to his hair - the blue did go out, but it still looks…. well. Bad. He can see it just looking at it in the mirror.

“So, she says, “is your internship at a funeral home?”

“Yes,” he replies, “it’s during the last six months of the degree, then you write your thesis and you get your license, and honestly, it’s a nice funeral home. I hope they hire me for good. Anyway, it makes sense. We need to have… experiences with, uh, cases, you know, uh -“

“You can say bodies,” Sansa grins brightly, “it’s fine. I know what you do in funeral homes.”

“Oh, thank God,” he blurts. “I’m sorry, uh, people tend to get queasy when I mention them. The bodies, I mean.”

“That sounds nonsensical,” Sansa shrugs, “what do people think happens when they die? Anyway, you can absolutely say that. Hm, here we go, I think these can stay. Another… yeah. Half-hour, forty-five minutes? Get yourself comfortable. I’ll go mix those toners meanwhile.”

Oh. Right. The toners. Fuck, he can’t wait for this entire dye business to be over. Honestly, he hasn’t done that when he was fifteen, he should have stuck with it.

He grabs his book back and starts reading it again, except that he finds himself wishing he could chat with Sansa some more and he needs to get that thought out of his head right now, no reason to set himself up for failure.

He reads on.

—

Later, she’s washed his hair again and she’s still mixing the toners.

“Yeah,” she says, “I think this need a bit more work, but I’m curious. Is there anything you don’t like about your school? Because you sounded really excited before.”

Did I, Tyrion thinks, but then again… he almost never talks about it to anyone except Jaime or Bronn because everyone else thinks it’s morbid, and somehow this girl who owns a wholly pastel shop actually seems to enjoy discussing the topic, so why the hell not?

“I mean,” he says, “I think we should do autopsies.”

“Oh, you don’t? I’d have expected it.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, “me too, and I think we should for, you know, completion and so on, but we don’t, so I guess I’ll read up on it.”

“But,” she says, “hypothetically,” and she’s kind of smiling slyly, what, “let’s say that someone wakes up while embalming them. What do you do then?”

“I mean,” Tyrion replies, slowly, “I think there’s a pretty huge difference between a living body and a dead one?”

“Sansa, please,” Jeyne says as she combs through the hair of the other woman, who looks… a tiny bit disturbed, but neither Jeyne nor Sansa are, so… who cares. right?, “never mind that you need a bit more toner, but I think there’s a thing named rigor mortis that’d make it pretty fucking obvious.”

“That,” Tyrion replies, “also if one gets stuck in a fridge for a few days I think you’d be dead anyway. Not to be, you know, morbid.”

Sansa mixes a bit more toner and smiles wider. Right. She was so fucking with him. “I mean, you did pump them full of carcinogen just before, right?”

“Right,” he laughs as she tells him to lean back and starts applying the toner to his poor roots, “we did, technically.”

“Just stay still,” she goes on, “it’ll be another hour, I think. Then I can cut.”

Well, he decides, at least this entire process is being not overtly miserable.

He leans back and lets her apply the toner and then cover it with the aluminium stripes all over again.

—

“So,” she says later while Jeyne is going through the third client of the day and he’s sitting on the chair again after his hair was thoroughly rinsed and washed for the umpteenth time — he lost count, honestly, but now it does look like his usual shade, sort of, he thinks, “can I ask what was this infamous bet about? Also, I can see your hair is naturally wavy — should I just trim the edges? Because I can see you cut it yourself and it’s not bad but you kind of hacked at them.”

“Er, yes,” he says, “sounds good. Wait, naturally wavy?”

“It is,” she says, “I can recognize it.”

“I, uh,” he coughs, “I don’t think I ever had it long enough to notice?”

“It’s the exact same as your brother’s,” she shrugs, “just a bit darker, but again, this should tide you over for a while. I mean, by the time it wears off whatever travesty you did to your hair in the first place should be fixed and it’ll be as before and no one will notice.”

“Then - I guess you can trim only and I’ll see,” he says, his throat suddenly feeling dry. No one ever compared him to Jaime in that sense without making it… well. About how he’s not the person with the good looks in the family, so this entire thing is just - weird. “Anyway, uh, you can ask about the bet. I mean, it’s just embarrassing.”

“I’m listening,” she says, cutting the edges of his hair slowly, and surely she puts a lot more thought it in than he does while cutting it, but then again… it’s her job and he learned because he didn’t want his father’s barber to go near his head.

“Er, so,” he clears his throat again, trying to figure out how to tell her the sanitized version of it while sparing her from all the family ugliness, “I was out drinking with the brother and the best friend at the same bar we’ve been going to for months because they have good drinks and the brother absolutely had a crush on the bartender, except that he came from a, uh, toxic relationship, let’s put it like that, and I thought he wasn’t going to fess up ever, so - we were drunk and it came out and I said of course I’d dye my hair that horrid color if he fessed up to her and like, I thought he never would but he actually went and did it and — yeah. I mean, glad for him that it went well but not my greatest moment.”

“Aw,” Sansa replies, keeping on trimming, “I like a nice love story. I imagine he doesn’t share our interest in formadelhyde.”

Why does his heart beat a tiny bit faster when she says our interest?

“No,” Tyrion shakes his head, “he’s more into nerding over Middle Ages weapons, but at least he didn’t tell me Six Feet Under was boring, so.”

“I loved that show,” she replies, “who’d say it’s boring?”

“It’s my favorite,” he shrugs a bit as she puts away the scissors. “And a lot of people, but it seems like you have good taste.”

She nods as she grabs some lotion that she supposedly has to pass into his hair before drying it. “And what about you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, he had a nice love story going into port, so what about you?”

“Er,” he hopes he’s not blushing, fuck, he’s usually not — he doesn’t fluster, fucking hell, “I — really am not looking. My family kind of… fucked up the only serious relationship I had going for me and most people get put off at the whole I want to be a mortician thing, so.”

“What kind of family fucks up relationships for other people?”

“The kind we come from,” he sighs, “but at least he’s out of that circus and I’ll be the moment I graduate.”

“Nice,” Sansa nods, “now just hold on a moment and I’m drying it.”

He nods — she grabs an hair dryer and starts blowing it and yes, he can see she got the exact shade right now that it’s not wet anymore, and — well, of course it’s her job to make it look good but the more she proceeds the nicer it looks, and now he can vaguely see what she meant when she talked about natural curls, and also… it feels fluffier? Lighter? He has no fucking clue, but the moment she’s finished — well.

“Fuck,” he admits, “I don’t think my hair ever looked this nice in my entire life.”

She grins. “I know how to do my job. Another moment.” She sprays some more lotion on her hands and runs it through his hair again. “This was just for a bit of nutriment, but there you are. You know, if you treat it a bit more nicely you might not need it me to make it look good.”

“Yeah, well, and what if I’d like to come back here instead?” He blurts, not knowing what the fuck he’s aiming for, but then she grins back a bit wider.

“I always like making new clients,” she replies, “especially when they’re cute and they don’t only want to talk about the gossip in magazines. That gets boring after a while.”

Wait, did she call him cute?

“Tell you what,” she keeps on as she takes the mantel off him and waits for him to get off the chair and follow her to the counter, “let’s say I don’t give all new clients a ten percent discount but I do give it to the ones I like.”

What the fuck —

“So, here you go.”

She hands him a receipt… with a fifteen per cent discount. “But you have to promise me you won’t use that crap dye anymore. That’s probably more cancer-inducing than formaldehyde could ever be.”

He has to laugh at that.

“Fair,” he says, “I won’t. Maybe I’ll come back before my last final. It’s two weeks from now,” he says, slowly, “I might want to look good for it. As much as it goes, anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll make you look incredible, don’t you worry.” She takes his card, swipes it, hands him the POS. He’s sure he doesn’t let it drop just out of sheer force of will. The payment goes through, she gives him his receipt and he pockets it, his hand still sweating —

“I’ll see you to the door,” she goes on, and she follows him out.

“So, Tyrion,” she grins again, “see you in two weeks?”

“Oh,” he replies, “absolutely.”

“And let me know how the internship thing works out. I like to know what’s up with the clients I like,” she winks, and then she leans down and kisses his cheek before going back into the shop.

Tyrion just stands there dumbfounded and only takes a few steps from the shop, and he didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he hears Jeyne the moment he starts walking away and —

“Sansa, I know you said you’d be forward after that asshole Harry, but I never saw you being that obvious. You really liked our mortician or what?”

“So what?” Sansa replies, and Tyrion thinks he’ll faint. “No point in playing hard to get and all. When he comes back I’m absolutely asking him out for coffee or something. I did like him.”

“Good for you,” Jeyne replies, “he seems nice and you deserve a nice guy. Even if that dye was a really crap choice on his part.”

“Oh, if I have a say in it no bad dye is ever coming near that hair. It was so nice,” she replies, and at that point he leaves because he really shouldn’t be doing this and he will faint, but —

But he smiles to himself all the way home.

He thinks he’s never looked forward to a final that much, and if she does really ask him out for coffee, no way he’s being an idiot and saying no.

And if he’ll brush up on cool embalming facts before then, well, you can’t blame him, right?

End.

#sanrion #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #jeyne poole #sansa x tyrion #those are the tags i suppose???#my fic

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

hullo there

question, question.

i got a WIP idea & i did a little world building to spark some joy - so now i have these bullet points, and i’ll likely write this, but i wanna see if anyone is interested in me doing a post... cuz it’s... levi... again...

*insert sweat emoji*

and a, uh, college AU...

anyway, more under the cut.

lemme know what you think? pwease?

Teaches Real Analysis for Graduate students

It’s a tough class to slip into; only offered in Fall and Summer & only available the first three days of Senior and Graduate registration

You’ve looked over the class schedule - asked around the campus - got your advisor on speed-dial - you’re determined to get in this Fall

Come hell or high water - you’re walking the fucking stage in December

But there’s a snag

Apparently the professor you want, the one you’ve known for the last three years, and have a great rapport with, is taking this semester off

Something about over work? Or maybe it was a time share that was about to expire?

Whatever it is - it’s a goddamn wrench in your finely tuned plans

At 7am, Monday morning, you’re at your desk, mug of coffee in one hand, fingers of your right diligently poised over the trackpad

Click, click, return, one final strike of the keyboard, and you’re in

Registered for MAT 8811 Complex Analysis & Number Theory (Fall:1) MWF 8am - 10:45am

And with professor…

Who?

One Ackerman, L.

Huh, you ponder, stiff legs stretching under the table as you cup your steaming mug to your lips. Never heard of him.

As a rule, you usually don’t bother with those professor aggregator sites

It’s all bullshit.

You should know, you were an adjunct last spring, and the reviews you got were middling at best.

Who cares if anyone thinks he’s easy

This is a graduate math class for fucks sake - nothing is easy when you’re working on a masters

But your dawdling keystrokes have another idea in mind, and before you can blink you’re clacking their name into the search function

Oh.

He’s… got some good reviews. Fair. Easy to understand, and… bite-sized? Okay

A strange adjective for a math professor but whatever… guess time will tell

August 22nd

It’s too hot for this, you think, adjusting your backpack straps as you dash up the last flight of stairs. Why can’t we start in September? It doesn’t even feel like fall when the temps are hovering in the mid 90’s (32 for my celsius babes)

Thankfully, Professor Ackerman is in one of the older classrooms - so it’s spacious, cool, and blissfully dim - what with recessed fluorescents that likely haven’t been changed since their installation in the mid 1960s

You take a seat toward the back, flicking on your laptop and arranging your materials

Not that you’ll use them today

Syllabus day is always easy - a waste of time, really. If there’s one thing that should be compiled into an email, it’s this

So you open up a few windows, poke around on a couple of websites, order some shoes, and, oh, looks like two of your favorite shops have a sale on. Maybe today won’t be so bad after all

You’re just about to toss another item into your cart when the overhead projector starts up that low pitched whine

Blinking, you look up from the brightness of your screen to the front of the lecture hall

Odd. You didn’t think… you saw the professor even come in… and… why are the light still dimmed?

Was he sitting in one of the seats?

You look around at your peers, but most are simply tugging out binders, notepads, one is clicking on a recording device, no one is acting like anything is out of the ordinary so you shift your focus back to your screen - adding an additional pair of shoes to your already overburdened cart

Treat yourself, right?

You’re so engrossed in your rapid fire clicks and the frantic recitation of your card number that you don’t see the powerpoint flicker to life

Or the sharp eyes of the man who’s taken a seat on the bottom lip of the raised platform

There’s always one, he muses, tapping his electronic clicker against the heel of his booted foot

They think they’re slick; what with all that engrained tech, the subtle narrowing of their gaze, a distracted pass here, a well timed question there - well, we’ve all gotta learn things the hard way sometimes, don’t we?

“That’s all I have for you,” a deep voice calls out, making you jump in your poorly padded seat. “Textbook is for sale at one of those kiosks the school bookstore sets up. But the link I provided on the slide should take you to a free to use PDF. Stick it to the man and all that jazz. Any questions?”

Yes, you think, slamming your laptop closed. Like when did a presentation start? And where the hell even are you?

Finally, you spot him. He’s perched on the steps, legs haphazardly crossed, elbows resting on his raised knees. There’s… an intensity to him. Maybe it’s that jet black hair, or the cold look in his sleep weary eyes, but something about this man just oozes a loud and clear, “don’t fuck with me,” vibe

And you, idiot that you are, just missed his entire… lecture? What the hell even was that? Did he just toss some slides up and call it a day?

As the class filters out he remains where he is - but when you step up beside him, he graces you with a bored stare

“Yes?”

Best course of action… be… honest?

“Hi,” you blurt, molars gripping indentations into the side of your mouth. “I… I’m in, uh, your class.”

He blinks dispassionately. “You don’t say?”

Crap. “Yeah, and, er, I didn’t… I think I missed some of your presentation. With the lights half off I didn’t… see you start it.”

“Half?” he questions, knocking a few rogue strands of onyx hair from his brow. “That’s odd. Cuz from where I’m sitting, it looked like you missed all of it. Lemme guess…” And here he pauses to give you a swift once over with his pewter eyes. “Online shopping?”

What a… a… your outrage dies in your throat when he swivels back to your widened gaze

Something about this… feels...

He waits for your reply, untangling his legs and bracing his hands behind him as he peers up at you. “Go on,” he taunts, a black brow arching sardonically. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

notes: (ᓀ ᓀ)

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Note

Feel like Sophie’s dad is gonna be more supportive of Rafe when he gets his internship (if they golf tg and he finds out there) than his own father.. ward wrath is not something I would want to have lmao

yes and thank u for this !!! the perfect transition piece for me lol

wordcount: 1.1k

_____

“Rafe, kiddo!” Sophie’s dad called out across the parking lot, clubs slung across his back. The two had seen each other around at the course when Rafe had been there for obligatory client meetings for Ward’s company, but Mr. Flint had always been too busy to say much more than hello. Rafe paused mid-stride, brightening when he realized it was her dad calling out to him. “Mr. Flint, hey, how have you been?”

“It’s Jeff.” Her dad corrected Rafe as always, catching up to him. “I’m good, what are you out here for today? Going to another one of your meetings?”

“Ah, no, sir, I’m just hitting at the range. Stress relief.” Rafe joked, though the strained smile he gave betrayed him. Sophie had told her dad some of what Rafe had to endure through work and at home, but told him not to mention it, afraid it was sharing a little too much of his personal life. Mr. Flint nodded and clapped him on the shoulder affectionately. “Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all.” Rafe grinned. He had always had friendly experiences with Sophie’s dad, and it was just about as close as he could get to spending time with Sophie herself these days, as pathetic as that was.

“Heard from my girl lately?” Mr. Flint asked, setting up his clubs next to Rafe’s on the driving range.

“A little, here and there.” Rafe shrugged, driving his tee into the grass. “She’s really busy, so I only really get to hear from her for twenty minutes or so before she goes to bed.”

Her dad nodded. “That makes me feel a little better. We’ve hardly heard from her since she left.”

“Yeah, I think she likes it though. Maybe a little too much.” Rafe cracked a smile and her dad returned a sympathetic one. “She’ll be back before you know it. You’re keeping busy with work though, it seems?”

“I am, I am.” Rafe nodded and hit his first ball much shorter than he liked, feeling a little nervous around Mr. Flint - feeling the need to impress him. Sophie’s dad pretended not to notice, busying himself with a few warmup shots of his own to give Rafe a chance to get better. “You’re here the whole summer, then?”

“Hope not.” Rafe mumbled, then cleared his throat. “No, sir, I’ve applied for a few internships back in Columbus that would start in July. Still waiting to hear back from two, I’d go live with my friend for a week until I could move into my senior house.”

Her dad perked up, glad he brought up the conversation first without him accidentally slipping that Sophie had already told him. “That’s big news! Will you hear back soon?”

“Supposed to today for one of them, yeah.” Rafe smiled at his encouragement, standing a little taller. “I’m not sure if I’ll get it, I was kind of nervous for the interview.”

“I’m sure you crushed it, kid.” Mr. Flint watched Rafe take another swing, then gave him a gentle nudge to the arm with his club. “Straighten your left elbow. I know I’m not your instructor anymore, but you know you can do better.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He seemed to shrink back into himself a little at the reminder, then hit another golf ball following his instructions. Mr. Flint nodded approvingly with a grin. “There you go, I knew you had it in you. Just needed a little pointer.”

Rafe glanced up for approval right away after hitting the ball, and beamed when Mr. Flint encouraged him further instead of just nodding like he was used to with Ward. “I’m a little rusty, sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Are you excited about this internship? If you’d get it?” Her dad asked.

“Um…” Rafe paused, not sure how much he should share. “I’d like to be back with my friends in Columbus, not many of them are still here this summer. The internship would be okay.”

“It’d be supply chain, right? The one with Jeni’s Ice Cream?”

Rafe cocked his head. “How’d you know that?”

Her dad hesitated with a sheepish grin, caught. “Soph told me she wanted you to get that one, so she could get the free ice cream supply.”

“She talks to you about me?”

“Of course she does.” Mr. Flint smiled. “Is that the one you want?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one I’m more interested in. Fun perks, I guess, I just.”

“You can tell me.” Her dad encouraged.

“Okay, uh. I’m just not sure I want to do that for the rest of my life, you know?” Rafe gestured to the golf course. “Like, how’d you figure out you wanted to do this?”

“I started as a math teacher, actually. Middle school.” Her dad laughed as Rafe wrinkled his nose. “I know, I know. Did it for about fifteen years, then I decided I wanted to keep teaching, but do something I was interested in.” He hit his last ball with a satisfying crack. “Now I get to spend my days out here teaching the same snotty middle-schoolers, but some of them end up being better than others.” Mr. Flint grinned.

“Fifteen years.” Rafe echoed, letting out a low whistle. “Long time to do something you don’t love.”

“Yes, well. It’s more about just your job. It’s about the time you’re spending with who you love, who you come home to. That’s what’ll make you happy.” He stepped back off the range, giving Rafe space to hit his last few balls. “Go ahead, let’s see your swing.”

Rafe gave him a grateful smile, knowing he didn’t know just how much of an impact those few words had on him. Instead of responding, he just hit the next few balls, concentrating on making the best shots possible until he felt a buzzing in his pocket and fished his phone out, brow furrowing when he recognized the Ohio number. “Uh - do you mind if I -”

“Go.” Her dad nodded encouragingly and Rafe nodded quickly, answering as he strolled out to the parking lot. A few minutes later, he came back sporting a wide grin. “Mr. Flint - er, Jeff!”

“You got it?”

“I got it!”

“Atta boy!” Her dad pulled him in for a quick hug unthinkingly, clapping him on the back. “See, nothing to stress about.”

“I gotta call - is it okay if I -” Rafe gestured to his phone, unable to get his words out.

“No, no, go for it.” Mr. Flint smiled knowingly and handed him his bag with his clubs placed neatly back in it. “Tell her hi for me?”

“I will, I will.” Rafe grinned. “Thank you, for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal

#we gonna ignore top in the gif #he's just so hot there #i live for backwards cap rafe #rafe x sophie #mine #frat rafe #college rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfic

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] 520 Texts - Kiro, Lucien, Victor

Trivia: 520 stands for 20 May, a day celebrated by the Chinese as another Valentine’s Day. This is because 我爱你 (“wo ai ni” - “I love you”) sounds like the numbers 5, 2, and 0 (“wu er ling”) when said aloud!

520 Moments: Gavin l Kiro l Lucien l Victor l Shaw

More texts: Gavin l Shaw

⭐️ KIRO ⭐️

[ You’re a Treasure ]

You’re the best teammate when going on adventures, and the biggest treasure I’ve found.

[ Version One ]

Kiro: Miss Chips, do you know about “treasure hunters”?

MC: I heard they’re a group of travellers who search for treasures?

Kiro: That’s right, Their mission in life is to search for the mysterious and tempting “treasure”.

Kiro: So is Miss Chips ready?

Kiro: The adventure with Kiro in search of treasure is about to begin!

MC: Huh? Don’t treasure hunters prefer working solo?

Kiro: There are times when they work together too!

Kiro: Also, I have a feeling that MC is my best partner.

Kiro: The treasure map, clues, and everything else have been prepared!

MC: Seems like this adventure plan is related to today...

Kiro: Miss Chips is so sharp! Since you’ve already found out, I’ll tell you a secret...

Kiro: Actually, what I want to convey is hidden in the treasure chest.

Kiro: If you want to know what it is, set out with me!

[ Version Two ]

Kiro: Miss Chips, do you know about “treasure hunters”?

MC: I don’t, but they sound really cool!

Kiro: Mmhmm, it’s enough to know that they’re really cool.

Kiro: So are you ready?

Kiro: The adventure with Kiro in search of treasure is about to begin!

MC: Right now? That’s too sudden!

Kiro: It might seem that way to MC, but I spent a really long time preparing for this day.

Kiro: Right now, the treasure map and clues are already in my hands.

Kiro: We just have to set out together, solve riddles, and explore!

MC: What if we don’t find the treasure?

Kiro: We’ll look around first. I believe Miss Chips can definitely do it!

Kiro: Also... your Kiro will always be by your side.

Kiro: When we’re together, we always have very good luck.

[ Version Three ]

Kiro: Miss Chips, do you know about “treasure hunters”?

MC: I do! This must be one of Kiro’s specially designed activities, right?

Kiro: Bingo!

Kiro: As expected of MC, the one who knows me best.

Kiro: You’re probably ready for the adventure with Kiro in search of treasure~

MC: H-hang on, where are we searching for the treasure?

Kiro: That isn’t something you have to worry about. I’ve already done my research.

Kiro: I’ve got a treasure map and clues.

Kiro: All MC has to do is set out with me to solve riddles, and explore!

MC: I seem to detect a pleasant surprise?

Kiro: As expected, you sensed it so soon!

Kiro: But that’s fine. I’m very confident in the contents of this surprise.

Kiro: I believe Miss Chips will reveal a gigantic smile after knowing the meaning of this treasure.

🦋 LUCIEN 🦋

[ Festival Habits ]

I seem to have gotten used to spending this day with you every year. I’m very happy that you’re in all of my beautiful memories.

[ Version One ]

Lucien: There’s a ticket to the aquarium on my office desk. Did you leave it there?

MC: That’s right. I finally decided on where to go today!

Lucien: I’ll have to congratulate the aquarium for being the winning selection then.

Lucien: What made you choose it as the final decision?

MC: There are many interesting creatures there! Belugas, jellyfishes, devil fishes... so many species!

Lucien: Mm, there are various special and beautiful creatures in the aquarium, and they draw one to study them.

Lucien: Based on your texts, I’m already able to imagine your look of anticipation.

MC: But there will probably be many people in the aquarium today...

Lucien: Mm. After all, today’s a very special day.

Lucien: So I’m afraid we’d have to set out earlier if we want to observe the sea creatures up close.

Lucien: I’ll pick you up after half an hour. How does that sound?

Lucien: The weather is pretty good today, and we might be able to see a beautiful sunset along the way.

[ Version Two ]

Lucien: There’s a ticket to the aquarium on my office desk. Did you leave it there?

MC: How did you guess so quickly?

Lucien: Because I recall you mentioning wanting to go to the aquarium a few days ago.

Lucien: Is there a special reason?

MC: I think the atmosphere of the aquarium suits you. Both give off a mysterious feeling, yet somehow draw others close to them.

Lucien: You used to say that frequently in the past.

Lucien: On the other hand, I think what suits you would be an unfettered place filled with imagination.

MC: I can hardly wait to visit the aquarium just by talking to you about it!

Lucien: I feel the same way.

Lucien: Since it’s still early, why don’t we pick a restaurant first?

Lucien: On such a special day, we definitely need to wrap it up with an exquisite and unforgettable feast. What do you think?

[ Version Three ]

Lucien: There’s a ticket to the aquarium on my office desk. Did you leave it there?

MC: Yup. If I had left later, I could have given it to you personally.

Lucien: But there’s a sense of surprise this way.

Lucien: Could you tell me why you chose the aquarium?

MC: I feel that it has a really romantic atmosphere~

Lucien: I see.

Lucien: Watching the schools of fish and luminescent sea creatures does conjure a romantic feeling.

Lucien: Especially when with the person one likes.

MC: Also, I heard there’s a lucky draw event. If we’re lucky, we could get limited festival merchandise~

Lucien: Based on my memory, your luck has always been pretty good. I trust that it’d be the same today.

Lucien: I’ve also prepared a special gift for you.

Lucien: So no matter what, may today be a day of extraordinary surprises.

🌹 VICTOR 🌹

[ Travelling Plan ]

The destination of the trip isn’t important. As long as the person I’m travelling with is a certain dummy, it’s enough.

[ Version One ]

Victor: A reminder before you head out - this time, don’t bring along a pile of impractical things.

MC: I’ve brought along impractical things in the past?

Victor: I should ask when you haven’t.

Victor: We’re just viewing the scenery in the countryside, so bringing yourself will suffice.

MC: I heard that the billowing wheat fields in the countryside during summer are especially beautiful. So I brought my camera to take photographs.

Victor: Not bad. Looks like your newly bought camera is finally useful.

Victor: It’d no longer be used to simply take pictures of Pudding every day.

MC: Come to think of it, has it been a long time since you admired the countryside scenery?

Victor: Mm, it’s been a while.

Victor: The last time was at a holiday village with a certain someone.

Victor: During this festival, there won’t be many people in the countryside.

Victor: Looks like we’ll be able to relieve the idle and carefree time in the countryside that a certain someone has been anticipating.

[ Version Two ]

Victor: A reminder before you head out - this time, don’t bring a pile of impractical things.

MC: Aren’t we going on a self drive tour? There shouldn’t be a problem bringing more things~

Victor: There isn’t a problem.

Victor: But it can reduce unnecessary burdens.

MC: I’ve prepared some bentos and we can have a picnic in the countryside!

Victor: No wonder you’ve been occupying the kitchen recently.

Victor: That’s good. I can see if your culinary skills have improved as much as you claimed.

MC: We can finally free ourselves from our busy city life. Don’t you feel happy?

Victor: I do.

Victor: But that isn’t the reason.

Victor: Hasn’t a certain person been saying that we’ve been too busy and don’t have alone time?

Victor: Now, we can use this festival to make up for it.

[ Version Three ]

Victor: A reminder before you head out - this time, don’t bring a pile of impractical things.

MC: It’s too late. I’ve already packed my luggage!

Victor: ...you’re pretty fast.

Victor: What did you bring?

MC: I heard there’s a fruit garden in town, so I brought a basket to store fruits~

Victor: ...did you forget that a watermelon and a box of strawberries were put into the fridge yesterday?

Victor: If you can’t finish them, don’t count on me to help you.

MC: Actually, the reason why I picked the countryside was because there’d be fewer people there during the festival~

Victor: Mm, that’s a thorough consideration.

Victor: During the festival, there will be much fewer people as compared to the city.

Victor: The surroundings are exquisite, and the atmosphere isn’t bad.

Victor: Looks like a certain person’s wish to have a leisurely vacation can be fulfilled.

#I decided to merge the texts I haven't posted into one to reduce spam LOL

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dreamties · 3 years

Text

Slashers x S/O in a LDR

A/n- Oh, anon! Same hat! Same hat! I’ve considered making something like this a few times, I was so happy to finally make them!! :D

I’m currently working on stuff for Randy Meeks, Kurt Kunkle, and Lester Sinclair- but if there’s still a character you wanted but don’t see here? Feel free to let me know, and I’d be glad to whip something up for them, as well!

Characters: Billy/Stu and Norman Bates

T/W: mostly fluff with a side of abandonment and mommy issues. and some swearing? (is damn a swear word? I used it a lot)

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Word Count: 992

Y’all met in high school- the three of you practically inseparable. But then college happens- and you would’ve loved to stay with Billy and Stu, but the sort of situation arises where you can’t possibly turn away the opportunity. It would be such a mistake, especially for the line of work you’d like to be in.

And now you may be thinking, Stu’s family is rich rich, right? Couldn’t they just,, buy they’re way in, so you didn’t have to part? Well...I guess they could? These boys aren’t afraid to take what they want, no matter what that entails- but I feel like there might be a lost sense of pride buying their way in.

...plus...they may or may have not tried...and the school definitely did not accept that shit.

So with that, the three of you end up at different colleges- well, Billy and Stu are at the same place but...you’re so far away 🥺🥺

You’re still in California- but you’re far enough away that they can’t do one to two day trips to see you. It still hurts so much to be apart from them though- especially since both of these boys are so, hmm how to put it...they’re very affectionate and needy (while that last bit may be more so Stu, Billy still fits the Bill on that one).

You only visit each other on holidays and during the summer- and you always stay much longer for the summer.

When Stu sees you again, the first thing he does is wrap you in the biggest, almost suffocating hug- Billy trailing close behind him, laughing at his antics. He basically holds on to you for the entire ride from the airport back to the house (depending on who’s visiting who- but you’ll often come back to Woodsboro, and stay with Stu).

They think about you all the time when you’re gone. It’s kind of nuts. They’ve got so many other things going on in their lives- they’re still participating in Ghostface murders, they’ve got college and Real jobs ((Stu doesn’t even need a job, but he likes staying close with Billy and having something to do !! He doesn’t like staying by himself too much :( )) and even with all that? You still end up worming your way into their brains. Collective brainrot over you lmao /j

You call each other everyday- or every other day if schedules are tight. The good thing is...is y’all are both in Cali !! There are no stupid time zones, y’all don’t gotta worry about that >:(

They want to make sure they know everything that’s been going on with you- even if it’s some boring class, it’s totally worth it just to hear you talk.

There’s lot of them telling you all the things they want to do to/with you when they finally see you. It’s all about the heavy yearning folks. The ache that you feel when you realize you can’t do that right now. And not for a long time.

You just want to stay with your boys, cuddled on the couch, watching B-rated slasher films. You want to look them in their pretty, perfect eyes, and let your fears and worries melt away, while you tell them how much you love and missed them. And to finally feel your boys’ hairs through your fingers again.

And the crashing, sudden realization, after they drop you off at the airport- and you have your drawn out, tearful goodbyes...the kind you see in movies- that you won’t see them again. Not like that, at least. And not for months. It was back to counting down the days again. Being thankful for every little moment you had with them- and every call, and every weird text message they sent. Allowing every soft, intimate moment away from each other to guide you back home.

Billy’s not great at dealing with his emotions...especially in positive ways. The relationship can definitely be super hard on him, even if he doesn’t really show it. It brings up a lot of his abandonment issues with his mom :( Having you go off to college is losing part of his support system, and it physically pains him to not see you in Woodsboro. You’re part of his little found family with him and Stu. And when you’re not there? Sometimes it feels like he’s lost you. that you’re not coming back from school, and you’re going to have left for good. Which is not true at all, and he knows that...but god damn is it hard to not listen to that dark, nagging voice sometimes.

And for Stu? He doesn’t mind as much. He doesn’t share this same trauma involved with it that Billy seems to have. But it still hits him in all the wrong places. He’s more likely to show his true emotions than Billy. And that’s actually really good !! He’s able to properly communicate with you whats going, where he’s at with things.

It can be kind of exhausting trying to translate Billy’s feelings to you- for all parties involved. Or Billy, who’s learned a certain way to communicate that works, and then having to find a new way that makes sense over text and phone calls. Since you can’t see all his body language, and the way he tenses up when he’s filled with Big Emotions.

TLDR; dealing w/ emotions is tough, doing it via limited technology is harder :(

and y’all know it’s tough on each other- but like hell you’re not gonna make it work with each other. Y’all are meant to be, even if the relationship is in a bit of an odd spot right now.

You always have to remind the boys that this is only temporary. just until your 4+ years of schooling is over, and then you can move back to Woodsboro. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to plan your lives together.

Norman Bates

Word Count: 784

You meet Norman at his motel. You’re just passing through, on your way to a gathering with some of your family. He’s a little odd, but such a gentleman, that you make a note to stay at his motel on the way back home, as well.

Norman’s completely enamored by you, and you say “I’ll see you soon” that first time, he can nearly feel his heart skip a beat. He’s a smiling, happy little mess about it. You wanted to come back here, for him? He can’t wait for it.

Part of him was worried you wouldn’t come back, and that part of him was very scared- but you were so genuine, he could tell you’d be back. For real.

He still finds himself surprised, when a few days later you’re back there. When you leave, you give him your home phone number and address. Letting him know if he was ever going through your town, and he needed a place to stay that...well...he was always welcome at yours.

Y’all aren’t even dating at this point, but you definitely felt this spark- this connection- when you met. It was unlike anything the two of you had ever felt before. So...your relationship starts off slow. It builds overtime.

It had been a few weeks since you met- with Norman’s work at the motel and whatever work you do, it was hard to find time between it all- but you’re finally able to start weekly phone calls with each other. Catching up with each other, asking him about the motel, and his hobbies...he’s so thrilled when you talk to him about the taxidermy! Not many folks are very er...into it. So it’s a nice surprise for him that the person he likes...cares about what he likes.

Further into y’all’s relationship, the weekly calls will turn into twice a week and sometimes and slowly, slowly melt into sending letters with each other as much as you can. Every few weeks or so, you’d get the sweet pleasure of seeing Norman’s simple letter in your mailbox. Smiling as you spot your name in his nice, neat handwriting.

Often you’ll include clippings from articles or magazines that reminded you of him, and little photos of yourself, your family (and pets if you have any) and critters, and bugs and shots of nature. He loves the ones you send of birds and trees the most- but he keeps every single one you send him. He has a whole drawer full of your letters.

A while into exchanging letters, the two of you begin signing off every one with an “I love you”. It’s not until you see each other in person again that you fully realize your feelings. I mean, they were always there- but it took the pair of you an impossibly long to speak it out loud- to make it official.

It had been just under a year since you met- and you’re finally back at the Bates motel. There’s no special reason, you’re not seeing family, per se. But you’re starting something you should have started ages ago. Every part of your being is teeming with nervous excitement- what if you had read the letters all wrong? Every I love you, meant as friends?

You're quick to let him know of your arrival- he’s surprised, he didn’t expect you and you wrap each other in a large hug. You don’t let go for sometime, and when you finally do, you still clutch on to his smooth, slender hands. You lean into him, “I’ve missed you.” He looks at you with soft, shiny eyes, lost in your own. You press a subtle kiss to his lips, and pull away soon after. You feel your face get hot, and you can only imagine that Norman’s face would be bright pink.

He doesn’t say anything at first, simply squeezing your hands. “I did, too,” he smiles. It’s so delicate, and you can’t help but hold his face in your hands- studying every little detail. Of course, he sent you photos of himself from time to time- but it wasn’t the same.

The week that you spend with him is magical. When you leave you already find yourself missing the time you had with him- but you suppose that feeling and the wait to see Norman- was worth it. Plus, you still had the phone calls and all the letters with I Love You in them. Besides, with time, you’d be back at his motel- or he’d finally take you up on your offer, and you could finally spend a sunny morning, lazing around cuddled with each other in your bed, in your town.

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simplepotatofarmer · 3 years

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would you mind if I ask how you became an anarchist? you said you've been one for awhile (?) and I'm curious.

sure! i don't mind at all <3

it's a little complicated because i didn't always know what the 'term' was for what i believed. but my grandpa on my dad's side was a huge influence on me. this man threatened land developers with a shotgun and often spoke about colonization (though i didn't know what it was at the time, just that he talked about his land being stolen and culture lost) and racism. he also grew and hunted a lot of his own food, giving it away for free to anyone who needed it, the leftovers going to food banks.

then i had this business class in freshman year of high school, second semester, and he had this phrase 'there's no such thing as a free lunch' which for some reason stuck in my 13 year-old brain like a bad song. i hated this phrase. i kept 'but why'ing him.

almost every day, i'd have a new question.

'but why can't people get free food if we throw so much out?' 'but why can't people just exchange services instead?' 'but why can't we have free housing?' 'but why do people need to make so much excess money when there's people starving or homeless?' 'but why--'

on and on until he kinda gave up on me, honestly.

it just didn't make sense to me and the next year when i took a social studies class, it just got worse.

and then 9/11 happened. and the iraq war happened. and my teenage brain practically imploded. nothing made sense!

i was an anarchist then i just didn't exactly call myself that. i didn't know it was a system. i had patches and shirts with the anarchy symbol on them. i had a sticker on my binder that said 'abolish prisons'. i thought climate change was real (back then it was practically a joke), i thought we should stop bombing other countries, i thought people should have free health care because it didn't make sense we had all this money and people were dying. i thought gay people should be able to get married.

but my family was conservative and i listened to bad religion and against me and had clothes with spikes so they assumed i was just rebelling. i probably was tbh.

then trayvon martin was murdered and i remembered rodney king and how, at the time, none of the white people i knew thought it was wrong and all the black people did (i lived in detroit then) as i watched my family come up with reasons why this kid deserved to be murdered.

and i thought 'fuck this'.

i put an ACAB sticker on my car along with the new 'abolish prison' one. looking back this is also when my family's abuse escalated even more but that's neither here nor there.

i still didn't know that anarchism was a thing so i just labeled myself as a socialist or communist. i started getting involved in community work and habitat for humanity and all that kind of stuff. i started a recycling drive in my area 'cause it was very rural (my car smelled so bad RIP). i kept doing that kind of thing, going to protests and marches and calling government officials even though i was like 'this isn't fixable is it'. i would babysit in exchange for things like food and a fan and sheets and towels.

i'm not sure exactly when i snapped and stopped being '''reasonable''' but i think it was when my daughter almost died.

see, i'm from the states and i live in canada now. once my family kicked me off their health care, i went without for years. i moved to canada about six years ago. around that same time, my daughter got pneumonia. at first it was just a cough and minor trouble breathing and if we were back in tennessee, i would've sent her back to bed.

then i remembered that i didn't have to worry about the bill. so i took her to the er. she stopped breathing about thirty minutes after we got there. if we had been in tennessee, she would've died.

while i was in the hospital with her, a friend invited me to a facebook group. it had a name in the title that i had heard before, kropotkin. it was for anarchists. i joined.

and i started realizing that more people felt the same way and not only that but they had ideas like mine.

i started a free lunch program for kids in my neighborhood during the summer. i'm still trying to convince the community center to start a garden. half my reason for building my chicken coop is so i can supply my neighborhood with eggs.

so i guess when it comes down to it, i've pretty much always been an anarchist because it's always aligned with my morals and beliefs. only now i have a name for it and not just a name but a way to fix all the things i've thought needed fixing since i was young.

#loyal answers things #anarchism #police brutality cw #abuse cw #basically i talk about events that pushed me towards anarchism so just go into this knowing it's a bit heavy subject wise

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jamilelucato · 4 years

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If I Could Tell Her [G.W.]

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Diggory!reader

Summary: Based on the song If I Could Tell her from the musical Dear Evan Hansen; Cedric’s younger sister mourners her brother and George tries to comfort her.

Musical Hogwarts || Hogwarts Masterlist

A/N: It’s a sad fluffy fic that I can promise will have a part 2 and a 3! it’s all planned out — it depends on how many people will want it.

Words: 1.900+

whole series here

*gif not mine

You were standing next to the monument some Hufflepuffs had put on for your brother. Your seventh year at Hogwarts had only just begun, but you felt like you should be already home.

Cedric Diggory Forever a hero; forever missed.

The writing made sense — your brother was the hero type, probably why he died defending Harry Potter. Some students had left some flowers around the marble plate, appearing to be a tombstone, which made no sense, since he was buried next to your house back at Ottery St Catchpole in Devon, England.

It was weird missing Cedric because you two had never been close. He was one year older, but that was not the reason — when you finally came to Hogwarts, you got sorted to Slytherin, which only proved how much different Cedric and you were. Total opposites. Besides, he was the family’s favourite, the family’s golden boy. You were just the other one.

“He thought you were awesome,” you heard a voice say from behind.

It kinda scared you, but thankfully, you didn’t jump. You turned around; George Weasley starred down at the fake tombstone as if he was reading it and not talking to you.

George was a beautiful boy you knew since a baby. He and his family lived in the same region as you, so more times than often, you two had to sit through dinners together, but there was no more to it.

From all the seven children that Mr and Mrs Weasley had, the closest to you was Ginny, who generally visited you when back at home. But, during school times, many of them just ignored you.

They were, after all, perfect Gryffindors who had a reputation to protect.

So, yeah, having George talking to you while next to the tribute to your brother was rather odd.

He finally looked at you.

“He thought I was awesome? My brother?” you asked, unable to say anything else. The Weasley boys were closer to Cedric then you — they shared such a passion for Quidditch that, although you also played the sport, your passion could never be compared — but it was weird that Cedric could’ve mentioned you to any of them.

“Definitely!” George affirmed, enthusiastically. Something about you being sceptical made him wonder that maybe you and your brother weren’t that close.

“How?”

“Well...” George coughed, trying to get some extra time to think about what to say. You were right about being suspicious — Cedric had never mentioned you to George or his older brothers.

That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t know unique things about you.

In fact, George paid attention to you every time he could. Something about your voice, your hair, your eyes... he couldn’t point out exactly what but you always got his attention.

As a kid, he thought that maybe at Hogwarts, you two would be close — but then you got into Slytherin, and later on, you became a beater. The same position as him, yes, but you couldn’t be farther to him than before.

He saw that you were still waiting for him to explain what Cedric thought about his little sister. He gulped.

“He said there’s nothing like your smile — sort of subtle and perfect and real,” George said, his voice a bit shaky. You seemed not to notice; focusing on the new information, George could be spitting on you that you wouldn’t care. “He said you never knew how wonderful that smile could make someone feel.”

It was nice listening to Goerge talk. He had a calm voice, way different from his brothers. Even Fred, who was his twin, had a different tone — always loud, never gentle. George seemed to be the most patient of the family — probably because he lives in the shadows of six siblings.

You knew how hard could be living under someone shadows — you loved Cedric, you missed Cedric, but even now that he was gone, his shadow was still there over you.

“And he knew,” George continued, soaking in the sudden courage, “whenever you get bored, you scribble stars on the cuffs of your jeans.”

With wide eyes, you gaped at him. You didn’t think someone could’ve noticed that.

“And he noticed that you still fill out the quizzes that they put in those teen magazines,” when George mentioned that old habit of yours, you almost laughed.

George knew about the magazines because of many dinner nights at the Diggorys when he had to fetch Ginny from y/N’s room. He thought it was a cute habit of yours.

“But he kept it all inside his head,” he added, noticing you were about to ask why Cedric never said those things. “What he saw he left unsaid.”

You looked away from the red-haired’s empathetic face and stared for the last time at the tribute. You needed to put an end to it— you had already grieved over the summer, and you did not want to turn into your parents who appeared unable to get over it.

“And though he wanted to, he couldn’t talk to you; he couldn’t find the way,” George went on. His gesture made you emotional — none of Cedric’s friends seemed so committed to showing you how great your brother was. “But he would always say ‘if I could tell her everything I see’.”

George was rambling and he knew it. There was a reason why he avoided talking to you — you made him nervous. And right at that moment, he was almost passing out. You were interested, and he was lying to your face. Cedric didn’t talk much to him or Fred — he preferred Percy — but even so, George doubted he could’ve mentioned y/N.

“‘If I could tell her how she’s everything to me’,” George sighed. He should stop rambling and free you from him. “‘But we’re a million worlds apart, and I don’t know how I would even start’.”

That new information you had just heard filled your heart with hope. Perhaps Cedric did like you. Perhaps he tried to be closer, but he just didn’t know how to. It wasn’t like you made it easy — you avoided him at all costs.

“Did he say anything else?” you asked, with hope in your eyes.

George raised his brows, “A—about you?”

Oh, that was it. Cedric talked about you but not that much. What were you thinking? That he spend whole afternoons with the Weasleys telling them how much special his sister was?

You started walking away from the fake tombstone, leaving George behind. “Never mind, I don’t really care anyways—”

“No, no, no—just, no, no—he said—” George gulped; he needed to organize his thoughts and fast. “He said so many things; I’m just—I’m trying to remember the best ones. So, um—”

You slowed down, letting George follow you around the school.

The tribute was just a walk away from the Courtyard; a couple more steps and you’d be hearing the students.

“He thought you looked really pretty, er—” George stopped right away. What was he thinking?? Brothers don’t say their sisters are pretty! “It looked pretty cool when you put indigo streaks in your hair,” he corrected himself, hoping you wouldn’t have noticed.

That caught you by surprise, making you stop at your tracks. Those indigo streaks were horrible! It was a blessing you did it in the summer, so it had time to dye out in time for school. But if Cedric thought they were cool...

“He did?”

George smiled. So you didn’t notice him reformulating the phrase.

He was losing you again — you fastened your steps. He started thinking what to say next and then he remembered when he saw you at the Yule Ball with Blaise Zabini.

“And he wondered how you learned to dance like all the rest of the world isn’t there,” he said, staring at you just so he could see you blush. And you did. “But he kept it all inside his head; what he saw he left unsaid.”

“I should’ve...” you gulped, “I should’ve said something.”

George pulled his brows together. “If he could tell you... I’m sure he wanted to.”

You tilted your head, unconsciously, and kept walking. You couldn’t turn back time. It was your fault, and you knew. Merlin, probably even George knew it by now.

“You were everything to him,” Goerge stopped you, holding your pulse. You looked down at his touch — it felt like being electrocuted.

Not by lightning because that would’ve hurt but like touching something you shouldn’t. It was different but welcomed.

“But we’re a million worlds apart,” you sighed when George finally let go of you.

You didn’t want to look at him. He was gentle, patient, but he didn’t understand. He and his family were together all the time; they were close, they were friends. You and Cedric were never like that.

Besides, George said it himself — Cedric wanted to be close. But you, you never wanted Cedric’s “pity”.

“He wondered...” George went on. It was enjoyable talking to you, even if it was about something so morbid. You two used to talk as kids and George had forgotten how delightful it was. “But what do you do when there’s this great divide?”

George reached for his mouth, covering it with his hand. What was he doing? That was too much. He had already pointed out things about you that Cedric probably never knew, but now he wasn’t even trying to pretend those were Cedric’s words.

Thankfully, you weren’t looking. Your eyes wandered at the group of Hufflepuffs standing next to a pillar. If you didn’t overthink it, you could still see Cedric there.

“He just seemed so far away,” you muttered.

“And what do you do when the distance is too wide?” George had accepted he was screwed — he was only waiting for you to be mad at him.

“It’s like I don’t know anything,” you said, waving your hand in Cho’s direction, who was passing by with some books close to her chest. She waved back, with a weak smile. You knew she was in pain too, but it was ironic because, before your brother died, you had no idea they were dating. Being honest, you didn’t even know who she was— shame on you for that.

“And how do you say ‘I love you’?”

George panicked when you turned your head at him. He had crossed the line, and you knew it.

Except you didn’t. You looked at George with a sad smile, thinking George was right. Even though you gave your brother the cold shoulder, he still loved you. He died loving you.

“But we were a million worlds apart, and I didn’t know how I could’ve even started,” you sighed. “I wish I could tell Cedric I love him too.”

George gave you a sad smile. “ He knows.”

You reached for George’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

“Thank you, George,” you said. “This talk... I didn’t know I needed it, but thank you.”

George blushed and didn’t have time to react when you got on tiptoes — Merlin, do the Weasleys’ kids ever stop growing?— and kissed his cheek. If he wasn’t red before, he sure was now.

“See you around, George.”

He watched you walking away, still unable to react with what just happened.

Fred reached his twin sneakily.

“Lost her again, huh?”

George finally moved, staring at his twin. “I can’t say it now.”

“Yeah, I know,” Fred pressed his lips together. “But don’t take this as an excuse. Take your time, but please, hit on her.”

George rolled his eyes — his twin was never the romantic gentleman.

“Or I will,” Fred added, trying to provoke his brother. It worked — George punched him in the arm.

“I’d like to see you try,” George said with a smirk and walked away.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x slytherin reader #george weasley x diggory reader #george and fred #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #fred and george imagine #musical #hp #harry potter #hogwarts #fanfic #dear evan hansen #if i could tell her #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader

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polaristranslations · 3 years

Text

Yotsugi Buddy Episode 5 (FINAL)

The epilogue; or perhaps, the punch line.

After yet another week had passed.

"So? What happened this time? If you're okay with me, I'll hear you out, Araragi-kun."

"Oh, get lost... Hanekawa!?"

My former classmate who had set off a journey wandering overseas after graduating from Naoetsu High School, Hanekawa Tsubasa, was sitting right in front of me—huh!?

What happened to Gahara-san, who's usually in charge of the endings!?

"Hitagi-chan is going on a trip to Kushiro with friends from her dorm this week, so if I may be so presumptuous as to take her place."

"She's going to Hokkaido!? That Hokkaido that I have yet to visit!? With her new friends!?"

Don't do things that will hurt your boyfriend!

Well, I was highly in favor of her expanding her circle of friends... But if she really went and ate crabs there, we might have to have a serious talk about breaking up.

"But, Hanekawa, if you're taking her place... When did you even get back? How long have you been here?"

"I actually got back just now. Since it's summer break, I thought I'd spend some time with Hitagi-chan, but she rejected me. She assigned me to you, Araragi-kun."

It was also a bit of a shock to hear Hanekawa speak as if she had no intention of meeting me... But oh well.

I wouldn't normally be a fan of breaking up the rhythm of our regular interactions, but that didn't mean I wasn't happy to be able to talk with Hanekawa—even if the subject was a tragicomedy about child abuse.

The location was, as usual, the cafeteria on the university campus—it was Hitagi who called me out, so I faithfully rushed over, thinking it was the usual thing... So this was quite the surprise.

Hanekawa Tsubasa, whom I hadn't seen in several months, now had long, straight gray hair. It wasn't braided, but it was close to the length that it had been when I first met her... However, she didn't have bangs, so I guess she just kept growing them out. I didn't know what country she just got back from, but her style, with her sturdy-looking backpack and hat, seemed like she'd just come back from climbing a mountain.

Her golden-brown skin made it seem as if she'd gotten a tan at the beach or something, but was that mismatched impression just how Hanekawa was like, now?

If there was one thing that bore a resemblance to when we first met, it would be that, though she had been wearing contact lenses since the second term of her high school senior year, she had gone back to wearing glasses—it wasn't for the sake of changing her image or her character, but simply that it was more convenient for travel.

Thinking about it, wasn't this the first time I saw Hanekawa Tsubasa in plain clothes? Since she was no longer a high school girl, I suppose it was natural to see her in plain clothes... I hadn't been mentally prepared in the slightest, so even her mountain climbing clothes left me flustered.

I didn't know if I should call it a cameo appearance or a stunt double, but, well, maybe Hanekawa was more suited for the ending than Hitagi was, as far as this case was concerned.

Not just because of the character for "hane".

Although, that's where it all started.

"Ahaha, that's pretty careless of you, Araragi-kun. Anyone with the character for 'hane' is usually good for nothing."

"They're good for something! There's something good for all of them! Don't involve the entire population of people with 'hane' in their name just because of your own self-deprecation! As soon as 'hane' shows up in your name, you're guaranteed to live a long and wealthy life! You score a hundred points in name-based fortune-telling!"

"Araragi-kun, were you always that defensive of a person...? I never said anything about economic conditions or life expectancy, either."

It's not like you get scored in name-based fortune-telling, too, pointed out Hanekawa in a dumbfounded manner—damn, after not seeing her in a while, it was like she was pointing out how dull I'd become.

Name-based fortune-telling, huh.

"You really know everything, don't you."

"I don't know everything, I just know what I know. Also, sorry about this, but we're no longer in high school, so if you don't mind, can you stop calling me 'you [omae]' so brusquely?"[?]

"We're totally not on the same wavelength!"

It was like a failed attempt at a nostalgic handshake—well, I guess such awkwardness is also part of what a reunion tastes like.

"I wouldn't say you've gotten dull. In fact, I'm impressed by how much you've grown. I never thought you'd save a teacher. I'd love to tell Hoshina-sensei all about it."

"Well, I really caused a lot of trouble for that homeroom teacher of mine... Teachers, huh... If I've become a fine person, then what have you... Er, what have you [anata] been up to lately, Hanekawa?"[?]

"I didn't think you'd be this awkward. I'm just kidding, it's fine to keep using 'you [omae]'. Well, I've finally finished the first stage of clearing out the mines around some national borders."

The scale was way too different.

In that case, her mountain climbing clothes today might actually be work clothes, or more specifically, military clothes... In other words, I guess it was my fate to never see Hanekawa in plain clothes.

It made me feel like the adventure that Ononoki-chan and I went on was nothing but a small trifle.

"There's no such thing as too big or too small when it comes to helping people. You're not your sisters, Araragi-kun."

"Now that you've said that, I'm sure even Ononoki-chan can rest in peace."

"D-did Ononoki-chan die!?"

"Well, she was already dead. Well, I'll talk about that later... I have things planned out, you see."

"Surely not. It doesn't seem like you'd plan things out, Araragi-kun."

Well, maybe I hadn’t.

And that was true today as well.

"If you've only finished the first stage, does that mean there are still some mines left?"

"No, they've all been completely cleared out. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come back. By finishing the first stage, I mean that I've been freed from my debt."

"Debt? For what?"

"The debt from chartering a fighter jet to take down Ougi-chan the day before our graduation ceremony."

Oh yeah, there was something like that.

I see, so while I'd thought that everything had been finished back then, Hanekawa had been suffering from debt hell ever since... Though it wasn't as bad as my hellish spring break.

Still, I don't know if you could say "as expected", but she repaid her debt quite fast.

What an amazing girl.

"So, from here on out, Hanekawa Tsubasa is free to do whatever she wants... Free to clear out mines of her own volition."

"......"

She was saying something pretty good, but it was kind of scary... When I was back in high school, I never thought I would end up worrying for Hanekawa's future.

"So?"

Hanekawa asked, switching back to the main topic.

"What happened this time? If you're okay with me, I'll hear you out, Araragi-kun."

"There would be no better person to hear me out than you."

It had already been in the news, and since she was the class president that knew everything, I didn't think there was anything I could add. But I told her the full story in chronological order, without cutting anything.

"—Ah, I guess you're not a class president anymore."

"Well, I'm still a president. Of the International Land Mine Removal U-20 Committee."

"That's insane. I never thought that my prediction that you would be a class president for the rest of your life would be fulfilled like this."

"But, I see, hmm. So it was something like that. You sure had a hard time, didn't you, Araragi-kun? But I think I understood most of it."

"You ‘understood most of it’ that easily, huh? The truth about the oddity incident that almost killed me several times."

"Did you really almost die?"

"By my estimate, at least twenty times."

"Don't exaggerate. It's an oddity story, after all. It could end up spreading."

At the very least, it was just once—when I was almost choked to death by my own clothes. At most, I'd say it was two times... With the time when I was locked in a cage.

I wasn't counting the two flights I made with "Unlimited Rulebook", since those were more like gags.

In that sense, perhaps I wasn't involved in that big of an adventure this summer... It didn't turn into anything like a demon-world-like summer vacation that could rival my hellish spring break and my nightmarish Golden Week.

Right.

In the end, this was reality.

"Honestly, maybe it would've been better if it had been you. If you were the one that Associate Professor Iesumi asked for help. If it had been you, you wouldn't have had the 'replacement child' misunderstanding when she first called you into her office, and you would have completely dispelled her suicidal impulses, wouldn't you?"

"Mm. Mmm. If it were up to the current me, I might have just let her die."

"......"

"It might have been impossible for the me of the past, too. The thought of helping an adult might not have even occurred to me... And I don't think I could have remained calm in front of an abusive adult. You remember, right? What I did to the people who raised me. Although I've forgotten... So, Araragi-kun, you're incredible."

Even though she said that, it didn't really feel like I was being praised.

If anything, I felt like a traitor. As if she was asking me how I remained so calm.

"I think all I could've done was call the cops at the very beginning, which would have complicated things further. So, Iesumi-san was right to choose you following Oikura-san's recommendation. Isn't that why Oikura-san told Iesumi-san about you?"

"Oikura would badmouth me to anyone."

Even if her words becoming the catalyst ended up being a good thing... I couldn't say that I had really been very helpful, just like with Oikura's case.

Rather than being helpful, I was completely helpless.

At least, that's how I felt.

"On the other hand, how much do you understand right now, Araragi-kun?"

"I barely understand anything. It's the same as always, just me regretting that there must have been a way to do this better."

In fact, the "past Hanekawa method" of reporting the abuse of the three-year-old daughter as soon as I heard about it wasn't so bad... At the very least, Associate Professor Iesumi would not have to be admitted to a police hospital for malnutrition, in this gluttonous country of Japan.

Her consciousness, which was already hazy on the rooftop, had been completely lost at this point... The doctor's assessment was that not only was she unconscious and in critical condition, it was unbelievable that she was still alive to begin with.

How was she still alive?

That was the one thing even the person herself didn't understand.

I may have managed to save her life, but her life was the only thing I managed to save... Other than that, I hadn't been able to save anything else.

The basic necessities of life—when I thought about how she hadn't been given any of that, and about her life from this point on, it didn't just leave me depressed.

"It's no wonder Shinobu didn't help me at all this time. What I was doing hasn't changed from what I did back then. If there's someone dying, I just can't help but reach out to them."

Shinobu probably had her own excuses... At the very least, it wasn't fair to say that she didn't help "at all". We hadn't made it to the parking lot in time, but once the sun set, it was her time to shine—when it came to the repairing and purification of Room 333, Shinobu had done a great job on all fronts.

"Wasn't Iesumi-san actually seeking help, too? She just couldn't say it like that in front of a child."

"What, is she a tsundere? An adult like her? I may not be a specialist of child abuse, and I may not be a specialist of oddities, but I am a specialist of tsundere. Well, it does make me feel a little better to think that way, even for a moment."

But I wonder.

I had also wanted to die in the past, and it was Hanekawa's words that had kept me alive at that time, which was what troubled me so much. Wasn't it just cruel to admonish a person who was suffering and tell them that "suicide was sinful"?

After being torn to shreds, it was like I was being attacked for wanting to die—wasn't that more sinful?

It was really hard to believe she was seeking help... That person may have just wanted to die.

"Then, if I unravel the mysteries that have been left behind, will that make you feel better, Araragi-kun?"

"Well, a little."

"Then, it might be a bit much, but this humble president would like to be of assistance."

Hanekawa grinned.

So that's why she was here—unabashedly showing up on a university campus that was off-limits to outsiders. Perhaps that was all according to my girlfriend's plan, as she looked forward to going to Kushiro.

But I wasn't going to let her off easy...

"Let's start off with something easy. How about the little bear doll on the roof?"

"Is that something easy?"

"I mean, it's a bear that's the size of a key chain, right? So wouldn't it be reasonable to assume that it was originally attached to a key?"

"A key..."

The only key that appeared in this series of events would be... The key to Room 333, Associate Professor Iesumi's territory... Was this about that key, which I'd finally been able to return to her that day on the roof?

"Non, non."

"A, a Parisienne?"

"There's one more key, isn't there? There was a lock to the second door, as you called it, that could only be opened from the hallway side."

"Ah... The door that Ononoki-chan kicked open."

Aha. While I'd tried to fix the hinges on that door, I hadn't performed a search for the key itself—and even in the subsequent (half-finished) search, I hadn't found it.

"From the fact that it's a teddy bear, isn't there a good chance that it was attached to the nursery key? And then—there's a good chance she threw it onto the roof."

Thanks to Ononoki-chan, my imagination had gone in the direction that it was a memory of Associate Professor Iesumi and her parents that she couldn't easily get rid of, but it could also have been a memory of Associate Professor Iesumi and the Iie-chan doll.

...And she threw it away onto the roof.

Littering towards heaven, not earth.

"Since she didn't find it cute anymore—right? Though, like Ononoki-chan said, you can get the feeling that she didn't throw it away, but failed to completely get rid of it. Considering the damage to that bear, it would've been about a year ago, right?"

"......"

So she felt the same way about the key chain as she did with her "own child"... The key that was detached must have been used without a key chain, like the key to the front door, or else she would not have been able to open and close the nursery door.

In the end, considering that she confined the Iie-chan doll and then left the second door locked, she may have even thrown away the key onto the roof... Perhaps we would have been able to find it under the rubble from Ononoki-chan's destruction.

That worn-out little bear.

In a way, it was also a remnant of affection, like the interior of the nursery.

"Even if it was a state of emergency, I would have felt bad if we turned the bitter memories of her parents into an oddity, but since it was a doll that Associate Professor Iesumi bought herself..."

"If it had been a gift from her parents, I think you would've been in big trouble, and not just in terms of your feelings. It would've been bad if it had been handmade, too—but Ononoki-chan is a professional, so I'm sure she wouldn't make such a misjudgment."

There was once a time where I created an oddity, too—said Hanekawa, lost in her memories.

Was she talking about Black Hanekawa?

No—it must be about Kako.

It was something that happened while I was away, so I didn't know all the details... But, regardless of good or bad, the fact that she created an oddity without even being a specialist made her one hell of a girl.

How long would I be able to drink tea at the same table with her, as she continued to raise her status as president ad infinitum?

"When it comes to Ononoki-chan, I gotta say I think she was making plenty of misjudgments... According to her, 'Ever since I came to live with Araragi Tsukihi, my clumsiness has shown no signs of stopping.'"

"Hm. Then, next is..."

"Can I ask something? It might be a little trivial, but..."

"You're talking about that, right? If it's a trivial matter, then you're asking why the weakness of the clothes and fabric that attacked you and Ononoki-chan was water, right?"

Hanekawa spoke as if she was completely aware.

"But, isn't it obvious if you check the contents of Iesumi-san's letter?"

"Um. No... That wasn't the question I had, but that's fine."

It seemed the definition of "trivial" differed for me and for Hanekawa... I didn't even care about something like that anymore. I'd crudely assumed that all oddities were fundamentally weak to water or something...

"Since they were oddities created by Associate Professor Iesumi, who was raised with 'water' as her 'staple food', the oddities' weakness ended up being water? But if that's the case, I would think they would grow even stronger when being doused with water..."

Like putting dried foods back into water, I guess?

No, when I found her on the rooftop, Associate Professor Iesumi declined the water I offered her... If you suddenly drink water after not eating or drinking, then was it fatal...? But then, what exactly would be the right way to treat such a thing?

"Rather than refeeding syndrome, maybe Iesumi-san just refused to be satisfied with water—"

"Satisfied?"

"Rather than your ski cap and jacket just becoming immobile after getting soaking wet, isn't it more like they drank their fill and fell asleep on a full stomach? Like a baby with a full tummy after being breastfed."

"......"

It wasn't their weakness—it was their staple food.

The feeling of not wanting to be satisfied was something I could understand... If the vampire on a hunger strike, Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster, were here right now, perhaps she would have something more profound and more significant to talk about here.

"Breasts, huh... Have I unexpectedly become a man that enjoys raising children? It's true that I've always been thinking that men should be more proactive in childcare."

"Araragi-kun, when you say the word 'breasts' so wholeheartedly, it sounds like you mean something else."

"So was that what you meant when you asked, 'Did you really almost die?' When I was in that crisis, it was more like a starving baby clinging onto me, so my life wasn't actually in danger..."

"No, I think that was definitely an attack. Most likely, one made out of self-defense... Still, if it were me, I would have never put back on a jacket and ski cap that almost killed me... How afraid of hypothermia are you? You're way too paranoid."

When she said that, I couldn't say anything in response.

But it really is scary, getting pulled along by "Unlimited Rulebook" without even a seatbelt...

"I would think that, when your clothes attacked you while your focus was on the destroyed father doll, they attacked rather systematically. Otherwise, the professional Ononoki-chan probably would not have had a hard time. It wasn't that opening the closet was the trigger condition, but rather they aimed for the exact moment that Ononoki-chan's hands were full with opening the closet. So, what was the question you wanted to ask, Araragi-kun?"

Hanekawa came down to my level... It was an exchange that reminded me of when she was helping me study.

I really was a baby. Goo goo ga ga.

"Don't say that as if you've resigned yourself to it. What kind of baby are you trying to be?"

"Rather than my question, it's a doubt that Ougi...kun raised. The difference between the quality of the construction and the quality of the drawing for the Iie-chan and father dolls... Because of the imbalance between the balloon-art-like technique and the 'henohenomoheji' scribble, Ougi-kun suspected that two people were involved in the making of the stuffed animal, placing the 'estranged husband' on the chopping block."

Though it was Associate Professor Iesumi who locked up the doll, it was the husband who stabbed the doll in the back with a fruit knife—I had acted with that reasoning as a basis... No, it was more supplementary.

Well, unlike Ougi-chan's deductions, Ougi-kun's deductions were a bit more sloppy—or rather, it was designed to confuse the person he was talking to and cause havoc. So it wouldn't be weird if it wasn't necessarily correct, but still, that raised some concerns regarding the discrepancy between the construction ability and the drawing ability.

From reading the letter, it seemed that both the Iie-chan doll and the father doll were made by Associate Professor Iesumi alone... Could we just say that "Associate Professor Iesumi was good with crafts but had no talent in art"?

"Oh, something that simple... I mean, that really is mysterious. All right, let's think about it together!"

"You've gotten pretty bad at backing me up. Think back to the time where you were such a patient private tutor!"

"Ougi-chan—or rather, Ougi-kun? He didn't know about the existence of the father doll at the time, right? Then it made sense that he thought that way. But if he'd seen the doll on the bed in the next room beforehand, he would surely have thought something like this. 'This girl looks just like her father.'"

"...Aah."

Instead of thinking in terms of the creator being the same... If I thought about it in terms of parent and child resembling each other, then the "henohenomoheji" face being shared was completely natural... Though it was more of a folk belief that girls took after their fathers.

I'd thought that the "henohenomoheji" face was too lacking in either skill or affection for a stuffed doll made to represent one's own child, but if it was actually an imitation of the doll that was the father figure—but, if that was the case, we'd have to figure out why the face of the father doll was a "henohenomoheji".

Was it skill, or was it affection?

That was lacking—

"—I guess it has to be affection."

A forged marriage for the sake of a visa.

It was not a marriage for money or fame, but a marriage for citizenship, a marriage solely on paper—Associate Professor Iesumi, who did it all on her own, probably didn't even know what her spouse looked like.

Unlike the Iie-chan doll, who she at least tried to raise for two years, she didn't even give a name to the father doll.

All she wanted was a family register.

"Even if you can't draw a good picture, you can still draw a bad one—but something like that is just a paradox for people who don't know how to draw... Couldn't she have drawn on the face of her ideal man, or something?"

"She probably didn't even have any ideals. Or wanted to have any."

The letter had said that it was a simulation for the sake of pretending to be married... Of course, I assumed it meant more than that.

Some special reason why she had to do something like that, like emotional attachment or nostalgia—but if it truly was nothing but performing a criminal act, then it was true that there was no need for ideals.

You could even say it was a hindrance.

Although, even in that simulation, she ended up failing—

"I suppose it means that even before she was unable to love her daughter, she didn't even love her husband. To read a bit deeper into it, she may have used her parents as role models... If she thought that the strong bond between her father and mother was the reason for her long years of confinement."

"...For the sake of loving the Iie-chan doll, she chose to 'separate' with the father doll? Although, since it's a doll, you can't really separate from him..."

Unlike the little bear doll, it wasn't big enough to be thrown onto the rooftop, either... For Associate Professor Iesumi, who had grown up in a cage all her life and never known the world "outside her house", it was probably inevitable that Room 333 had become her whole territory.

Her home, which had turned into a hangout for "bad things" like the former Kitashirahebi Shrine—a 3LDK of swirling emotions.

Her saying she was separated from her husband was not a narrative trick found in mystery novels—it was simply the biggest form of separation she could think of, as her knowledge only consisted of that strong bond between parents. She was at an absurd loss.

"Even though she had no choice but to do so, the fact that she destroyed those bonds from within the cage may have determined the rest of Associate Professor Iesumi's life. Maybe she left Switzerland, not because she wanted to get away from her mother, but because she wanted to escape from her sense of guilt."

Even if she was able to realize her great ambition of getting stabbed by her father after five long years... She surely didn't want to make her mother stab her father or even turn into a fugitive.

"...Ah, I see. I should've asked about that first. It's something that I asked Associate Professor Iesumi about on the roof, though I didn't get a clear answer."

A simulation that barely lasted two years, let alone twenty—with it becoming harder to love the Iie-chan doll, her arriving at separation and finally at neglect, let's just say it was another form of a bad ending different from reality. However, if there were differences between the "recreation" and reality—

"Then who was it that stabbed the father doll? As for who stabbed the Iie-chan doll... Was it Associate Professor Iesumi?"

If the doll-making was not a collaborative effort, but hers alone, then did that mean that Ougi-kun's theory about the abuse and the stabbing was way off, and it was actually the same criminal?

It was that conversation with my junior that became the catalyst for my subsequent actions, so the truth or accuracy of the statement wasn't really important anymore, but...

"I think you can just think that it happened normally. What you first assumed, Araragi-kun,"

said Hanekawa.

"In other words, the father doll stabbed the Iie-chan doll in the back, and then the Iie-chan doll stabbed the father doll in the face."

"...That's not normal at all, though?"

Rather than it being what I first assumed, it felt like it was completely at odds with what I assumed... At that point, it wasn't even a recreation of what happened in Switzerland, right?

It was only when I thought that the "estranged husband" was real that I thought that it wasn't Associate Professor Iesumi that stabbed the Iie-chan doll. And there was certainly a time when I thought that the moving Iie-chan doll had stabbed the father doll, but after reading the letter and interpreting that Room 333 was a crime scene recreation, then I would've guessed that it was Associate Professor Iesumi that stabbed the father doll in the face.

The fact that the father doll moved and stabbed the Iie-chan doll... Well, it wasn't impossible. The reason Ononoki-chan destroyed the father doll on the bed was because she'd been wary that the doll would start moving—"just in case".

Thus, it wasn't impossible to assume that the father doll had already "moved", long before that... Rather, it could even be assumed that being stabbed in the face by the fruit knife caused that stuffed doll to "stop moving".

However, if you went even further... If Associate Professor Iesumi stabbed the doll in the face for the sake of the recreation (?), then the Iie-chan doll needed to have already been stabbed in the back.

The order of events was messed up.

Twisted up, like balloon art.

I'd certainly seen the Iie-chan doll stabbed in the back—in other words, I'd seen the fruit knife. At that point, the fruit knife was in the nursery.

As long as Associate Professor Iesumi was already on the roof of the university building, not moving the slightest bit as if locked in a cage, attempting to commit an impractical suicide—she could not have pulled out the fruit knife and stabbed the father doll in the next room.

Was it a remote-controlled trick?

If she used the oddity that controlled cloth, it wouldn't be impossible... But I didn't think at all that my jacket and ski cap, the clothes in the closet or the carpet, and especially the Iie-chan doll were under the control of Associate Professor Iesumi.

The attacks had been extremely primitive.

It was true that, like Hanekawa said, the most suspicious of them all was the Iie-chan doll, who'd displayed a high learning ability... But if so, it would not be an accurate recreation.

Although, if you told me that there was no need for it to be an accurate recreation, then I wouldn't be able to respond... In the first place, it wouldn't have been a recreation starting from the fact that the country was different...

"You don't have to make it so complicated. Let's assume for a moment that it was indeed a recreation. In that case, what would be wrong?"

"...Well."

I wanted to say that trying to argue about what was right or wrong in that situation was already wrong, but that might be being too critical.

"Are you saying that it's actually the letter that was wrong? It was written in the narration, though?"

"Don't act like some clever reader of mystery novels. Also, don't say things as if the victim is always trustworthy."

It was something I wouldn't say, no matter what.

Narration or otherwise, the content of the letter was highly questionable—even if it wasn't groundless, it was a piece of writing meant to ascend to heaven.

From the beginning, heaven and earth had already been reversed.

It had even said something like she didn't really believe that the abused Iie-chan doll was her own child, but it was highly doubtful if Associate Professor Iesumi really, truly didn't believe that.

Though it surely wasn't a disease where she denied everything.

If anything, there were probably days she knew and days she didn't... Of course, even a guy like me had good days and bad days.

Even if the day she wrote the letter happened to be one of her best days out of the whole year, there was no guarantee that those three days she left the doll locked in the cage were at the same level of energy.

"There were probably some translation errors that came from deciphering from four different languages."

"There's no way. Meniko would never mistranslate something."

"Oh, that's some confidence you have in her. You should introduce her to me, that Meniko-san."

"Eh? Ah, all right, well, if the opportunity arises."

"So you're trying to protect her not only from Hitagi-chan, but from me as well... You're way too defensive of the new friend you made in college. It's overprotective."

However, if the crime scene that was recreated was correct, then how did we need to amend the letter's contents?

If the Iie-chan doll escaping from the cage and stabbing the father doll was the correct version of events—

"Then was the one who stabbed the pediatrician father actually Associate Professor Iesumi herself, after being stabbed and escaping from the cage? As legitimate self-defense—"

No.

More correctly—it was revenge.

"—B-but, regardless of a doll doing it to another doll, there's no way a three-year-old without any accountability could kill an adult, right?"

"It would be impossible even as dolls. But she wasn't a three-year-old without any accountability, right?"

She was a twenty-year-old adult.

Declared Hanekawa—and that was right.

In the letter, she had written it as if she'd been a baby for twenty years, but that couldn't be the case... Like how a bound foot can still grow, a person didn't stop growing just because they were raised in a small cage.

As long as they were alive, they would grow.

Just like me.

"But... Hanekawa... Let me just say this one thing..."

I tried to come up with a counterargument as I spoke, but no matter what, I ended up being convinced.

With the words taught to her by her father, she ensnared her father and prayed for him to "kill her" over five years—but what if her ultimate goal was not to simply be stabbed in the back?

What if being stabbed was just a step in the process?

What if her objective was to obtain the knife—it made perfect sense.

And if there was something else that made sense, then the reason her mother fled... It wasn't because she was the culprit that stabbed the father—the only assumption was that she was trying to flee from her daughter's revenge.

She saw her husband killed by her daughter and ran away... She finally gave up on raising her daughter after twenty years of being there for her.

"There's another way to look at the mother's behavior. She's still on the run in order to cover up for the crimes her daughter committed... As long as she herself is on the run as a murderer, she wouldn't arouse any suspicion against her daughter."

"...So there's still love there?"

"A child will grow even without love. Like me."

She spoke rather defiantly.

"After all, whether she was three years old or twenty years old, Iesumi-san at the time could not be held accountable,"

Hanekawa continued.

That's right. Even if it wasn't self-defense, there was no way that case could be judged, whether under Swiss law or Japanese law.

Even if she was a fake teacher who had illegally infiltrated a national university and was a felon who would be imprisoned without probation, she would still be innocent of that one case. After all, who would remain normal after being locked up for twenty years? Even I had given up after just half an hour.

But Associate Professor Iesumi hadn't been given that "normalcy" since the day she was born... It was something she had no choice but to acquire herself, even if she had to lie to do it.

Experiencing the loss of normalcy was something I'd felt countless times... But what would it feel like to never have a sense of normalcy to begin with?

Locked up for twenty years—

"...Anyway, the last thing would be that. The number one mystery."

"Saving the question you want to ask the most for the end... That's a habit you've had since your high school days, Araragi-kun."

"Ah, because I'm a coward. I'm afraid to hear what the answer will be."

"Isn't it because you already know the answer to the question, even before you ask it? But, go ahead. I love it when you ask me questions, Araragi-kun."

"You love... Araragi-kun? If you're going to go that far, I guess I have no choice but to ask my final question."

"I think that joke is going a little too far for our current sense of distance. I'm going to tell Hitagi-chan."

Oof. Gauging our sense of distance was hard.

How does it go between you and Hitagi, Hanekawa-san?

Anyway, now that I've warmed things up with this lighthearted exchange...

"Fundamentally, is it even possible to keep a human being locked up, from when they were a baby, for twenty years—without letting them eat or drink?"

I wasn't a specialist of child abuse, and of course I wasn't a specialist of childcare... Calling myself a man that enjoyed raising children was presumptuous. However, no matter how ignorant I was, I knew that a baby was a living thing that could die from the slightest mistake... A weak existence that could die even if you didn't make any mistakes.

Could that state have been maintained for twenty years?

The fact that her father was a pediatrician wasn't enough for an explanation... Or rather, I could sense from the letter that she was trying to avoid that question by mentioning her father's occupation.

The explanation that the blade did not pierce the heart because it was so thin was almost comical... If she was in such a condition, wouldn't she have simply died from even the slightest amount of blood loss?

It was unclear to what extent Associate Professor Iesumi intentionally or unintentionally embellished that letter... But it could even be a lie that her father was a pediatrician and her mother was a fashion designer for children's clothing. Those occupations seemed to fit too perfectly, as if balloon artists had twisted them into place.

"If you start to doubt that much, you won't be able to trust anything—but at least for that point, I agree with you, Araragi-kun. In Ononoki-chan's words, 'That's the first time you and I have agreed on something.'"

Unlike with Ononoki-chan, that statement might actually be true with Hanekawa... We'd been having a lot of disagreements because of the misunderstanding of distance, so I'd been preparing myself for the possibility that we might not agree even now, but...

"Yeah. I think she turned into an oddity. Iesumi-san herself,"

said Hanekawa, which was a relief... No, the statement itself wasn't exactly something to be relieved over, though.

An oddity.

Just as how the Iie-chan doll became an oddity.

Just as how the father doll, my winter clothes, and Associate Professor Iesumi's clothes and carpet became oddities—and just as how we turned the little bear doll into an eyeball-attached oddity.

If Associate Professor Iesumi herself was turned into an oddity by her parents—then she would be able to stay a baby until she was twenty.

Indeed.

After all, I knew a young girl that was six hundred years old.

I knew a little girl that was twenty-one years old, and a tween girl that had been used for a hundred years—therefore, a twenty-year-old baby wasn't too inconsistent for me.

If she herself was an oddity, it would have been even more strange if oddities didn't continue to form in her territory, Room 333—if they didn't attack the two trespassers like immune cells with self-preservation instincts, I would think that they were actually sabotaging themselves.

It was a natural protection.

That would explain why I, a slowpoke, was able to make it in time—in other words, why Associate Professor didn't die even though she hadn't eaten or drunk anything for a week on the roof of the university.

If she was part oddity.

Then that wouldn't allow her to ascend to heaven.

Because for oddities, there was no heaven or hell.

"Her parents locked her in a cage and used her as a dress-up doll—that's more than enough to meet the conditions for becoming an oddity. I don't know how much of what she said were lies—but at the very least, she herself has no awareness of this one thing. Once she was out of the cage, she wouldn't have had a chance to use her abilities... After all, if she could use her skills freely, she wouldn't have needed to commit any crimes. It was when her crimes came close to being exposed that her defensive instincts began to run wild..."

However... The best example of this was the trespassing that Ononoki-chan and I often did, but weren't crimes basically about skipping due process and cheating to make things easier? It was disheartening to think that Associate Professor Iesumi's blood-soaked efforts were poured into a crime in order to obtain something that should be taken for granted, like human rights.

It wasn't just her parents. The world, the law, ethics, rules—everyone had neglected her.

They'd ganged up on her, and abused her.

Of course, distributing the fault among everybody was just evading responsibility by faking collective responsibility... Not to mention, she probably had people that helped her, too. Of course with regards to her rehabilitation, but her criminal activities would not have succeeded if there had not been someone that showed sympathy to her. However, even someone saying all these sympathetic things like me was probably contributing to the abuse of someone who was trying to make an effort.

Unconsciously.

If you get involved in a different way; if the person was not someone above you; if you were in a bad mood because you fought with a friend; or if you were irritable because you were hungry—you might find yourself saying that she should atone for the crime she committed against her parents, even if she could not be held accountable; or that it was too much to flee the country based on a strange assumption; or that she should have obtained a work visa the proper way even if it took a long time.

Unconsciously.

"Right. Unconsciously. Rather... Yeah, everything was just done unconsciously. Even if she was conscious of the fact that she was her father's murderer and that her mother wasn't really a murderer, I don't think she would admit it... In order to protect the self, she abandoned it—like throwing it away onto the roof. She became so good at lying to herself that she completely fooled herself."

When Hanekawa said it, the words seemed to hold greater weight.

Words as heavy as feathers, from Hanekawa to Hagoromo.

It could be said that she survived by becoming an oddity, but she couldn't be saved from the fact that the source of the passion that turned her into an oddity was her parents' love. The thing that killed her was the thing that kept her alive—so much so that she couldn't even kill herself.

In that case, when I first spoke to her at the lab, she'd seemed like such a solid, decent adult that I couldn't believe she was abusing her daughter—but that was probably because she felt so guilty about her position that she took great pains to make herself seem decent and solid. Wherever I go, it's that same "using misfortune as a springboard" that I hate, huh.

"A cloth oddity—a yokai like the ittan-momen or the shiro-uneri or the nikujuban, perhaps? Maybe the power to manipulate fabric was a talent she inherited from her fashion designer mother. In Scotland, they say that each family has a unique tartan pattern. Well, when I became the sawarineko, it's true that I never had any dreams or nightmares, but it's still troubling that the person herself has no awareness of her oddity nature."

"It's not troubling. It's her only salvation."

Even though she thought she'd finally become human once she escaped from the cage, if she found out that she wasn't—at that point, Associate Professor Iesumi would certainly give up on trying to live.

And I didn't have the confidence that I would be able to stop her then.

"I suppose we've come full circle, and it's time for the specialists to step in... Gaen-san should be able to at least seal away her powers," I said.

That would be best.

I thought I'd successfully been able to break things off with that friendly onee-san, but it seemed my debts continued to increase... Since I no longer had the opportunity to pay off my debts, a ridiculous amount of interest kept piling up.

At this rate, I'd be forced to pay back a huge sum of money after graduating from college. It was little too late to realize that I'd been set up... But since she could wait as long as four years, I guess she really was an adult. Even though she was dressed like that.

A solid adult, huh.

"Speaking of specialists, Araragi-kun, the fact that you paired up with Ononoki-chan from the start this time surprisingly ended up being the best match. Nice badi—if it had been a 'replacement child' or a 'moving doll', it certainly would have been out of Ononoki-chan's area of expertise, but an immortal oddity is right in her strike zone, isn't it?"

That was a pretty fresh point of view.

It may be a bit rough to describe Associate Professor Iesumi as an immortal monster, but considering her track record of "not growing up" and "not dying" over a period of twenty years, it would not be an exaggeration to say that she had eternal youth.

In that case, we had better get it taken care of before Kagenui-san finds out—that violent onmyouji of justice might be the only one who would enact judgment upon Associate Professor Iesumi, for the crime of killing her father.

What in the world could have happened in the past to make her dislike immortal oddities so much...? Would the day I learned about it ever come? Was it related to the curse she received for creating Ononoki-chan?

"By the way, Araragi-kun. Now that we're on the topic of Ononoki-chan, are you going to tell me any time soon? You've managed to smoothly set it aside, but what happened to Ononoki-chan after that?"

Regardless of whether or not the topic of Ononoki-chan was brought up, Hanekawa somewhat forcibly placed the trolley on the rails of the corpse doll... Many things had happened in high school, but there shouldn't have been any direct contact between Hanekawa and Ononoki-chan.

What an admirable class president, worrying about a tween girl she'd never met.

Compared to that, I was good for nothing.

I'd said that I planned things out, but in reality, I just put it off because it was hard to say... Because, as her client, I felt a sense of responsibility for the treatment she received.

"When Ononoki-chan created that eyeball-attached bear doll... That oddity, it seems Gaen-san got angrier at her than I imagined. She scolded her so much that I thought even the expressionless Ononoki-chan would start crying. I said 'more than I imagined', but I can't even begin to imagine it. Gaen-san snapped."

"Th-that Gaen-san!?"

Hanekawa wasn't acquainted with Ononoki-chan, but she was certainly acquainted with Gaen-san, so even she was taken aback—I was finally able to succeed in shocking Hanekawa.

Surprise.

If possible, I would've preferred to shock her with how much I'd grown—but, well, I understood how she felt.

There had been times where that onee-san had gotten mad at me and scolded me before, but she'd never snapped.

"Even though she didn't even yell at me when she saw me with a reference book that had pictures of an older woman that looked like Gaen-san..."

"Learning that fact makes me want to yell at you for it, Araragi-kun, but I don't have the authority to do that right now, so I'll just stay seated and keep listening. So what happened to Ononoki-chan? Don't tell me... She was disposed of?"

Hanekawa half-smiled and said it as a joke, but honestly, it wouldn't have been weird if that had happened—but rather, you could assume that Gaen-san unleashed her fury for the sake of avoiding that "disposal".

If it had been Kagenui-san that found out about it first, then as the "owner", she might have had to dispose of her shikigami... As Ononoki-chan had said, Kagenui-san was responsible for everything about her, including killing her.

If Gaen-san only flipped out as part of an exaggerated performance, then that would certainly be a kindness that was "typical" of her... But her style of using kindness and anger as tools of communication was rather incompatible with me.

But I'm sure that Gaen-san was defending not only Ononoki-chan but also me, so I had to approve of her way of doing things this time... Especially if I had to ask her to ensure that Associate Professor Iesumi was rendered harmless.

Maybe it was about ten billion yen?

The amount of debt I owed to Gaen-san.

It was as if Hanekawa, who had finished repaying her debts, passed me the baton of the debt king... A helpless relay.

"...Then, Ononoki-chan received a scathing lecture, but got off scot-free after that?"

"No way. Naturally, Gaen-san thought that a visible form of punishment was necessary, so for the time being, the problematic eyeball was confiscated from her."

I never thought she'd actually become an eyepatch character... It was way too visible, Gaen-san.

And, that wasn't all.

Rather than the confiscation of her eye, which would surely be returned to her when things calmed down, I would say this was a much bigger "disposal" from my point of view.

"The order was given for her to withdraw from the Araragi household."

"Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmmm?"

"A restraining order was issued against me and Shinobu... And she was told to leave her current assignment immediately. In other words, this is the end of her long freeloading lifestyle."

It would be a lie if I said that I wouldn't miss her.

But she had stayed for longer than I'd expected... She started in February of this year, so about half a year?

It was another clever thing that Gaen-san was able to do. By punishing her, she was able to relieve her of her current duties... Instead of being sent to the penalty box, she was probably on her way to her next job. She probably couldn't keep such a talented shikigami by my side.

By my side, with no problems at all.

"I see... I'm glad she wasn't disposed of, but I wonder if the restraining order meant that Gaen-san realized the danger of keeping Ononoki-chan in the Araragi household, since she's an oddity that's easily influenced by her surroundings."

"She'd have known that all along. Since she's an onee-san that knows everything... Although you're making my house sound like a danger zone."

"But it is a danger zone, the Araragi household. It's full of land mines, and as land mine committee president, it's not something I can leave alone."

Were you actually called the land mine committee president?

As for me, I was optimistic that this meant that the probation period for Shinobu and me was finally over... But the commander's resources and strategy were yet unknown.

Her true intentions surely numbered three, or four... Or even a hundred or two hundred.

"And so, I gave Ononoki-chan a hug goodbye."

"You didn't really hug her, right?"

I didn't.

I didn't even get to say goodbye... Perhaps she inherited the personality of Oshino Meme, who wasn't good with goodbyes, but after explaining the situation, the corpse doll departed from the house, as if she were only taking a break to go and buy some ice cream. It wasn't like I wanted her to leave in a flashier way with "Unlimited Rulebook"—well, I didn't want Ononoki-chan to leave in the first place, flashy or otherwise.

But, it's fine.

It wasn't like we were saying goodbye for good.

In a hundred years, we'll bump into each other somewhere.

"Nevertheless, after being relieved of her duties, on top of losing one of her eyes, I'm sure Ononoki-chan will be tasked with something even tougher than living in the Araragi household... It's pretty rare to get an ending where nobody's happy."

"Too bad. I guess that unraveling the mysteries didn't serve as much of a distraction. But I didn't come back to Japan just to see you all depressed, Araragi-kun."

So, shall I bring you happiness?

Said Hanekawa with a roguish smile.

Like that of a cat.

"What a vicious joke. You can't just go and misunderstand our sense of distance now. Regardless of whether I was influenced by Ononoki-chan, if I were a land mine, I would've exploded. Should I let Hitagi know?"

"It's shocks me to hear that you're taking it as a joke. I'm a specialist in helping you, Araragi-kun, don't you know?"

"A specialist in helping me... What a crazy specialist. You're not my babysitter. Well, if you insist, then all right. I'll take advantage of your generosity and let you help me."

"Have you thought about it? After locking you in the cage, where could that flying blanket have gone?"

"Dunno... If it was just Associate Professor Iesumi that turned into an oddity, and the stuffed doll was just one of her thralls, then I imagine it would run out of time at some point and turn back into a blanket—on the other hand, if it were recreating what happened, then wouldn't it be in Switzerland by now? Like its mother, who came to Japan to escape from her mother."

"Or perhaps, she went to visit Iesumi-san in the police hospital, sleeping as though she were dead—"

"To strangle her?"

"—To drape over her chest like a blanket, as though it were a baby snuggling up against her mother."

"...Hanekawa, that's..."

It was the most untenable hypothesis she'd made today—it was untenable, as a hypothesis, and even as just an idea.

It was almost repulsive.

Who in the world could relate to such a forced and contrived "happily ever after"? If "there are no parents that don't love their children" were words that contained no love, then "parents are everything to children" were also words that contained no love. Even if it's a baby's instinct to cling to the mother—it seemed like a much healthier wrap-up to have the blanket slowly strangle her.

"There's no way. For people like us, who are far from being bedtime stories... Did we ever once see such a happy ending that was so meaningful?"

"That's exactly why it's about time something like this happened. If the simulation doesn't pursue ideals, then reality will only get worse, you know?"

I suppose so.

Associate Professor Iesumi had been thorough in her simulation of the reality she knew, which was why she'd failed in both her marriage and her child-raising. As long as you learn from reality, you can only bring forth reality... It was an endless cycle of reproduction.

Even if it wasn't there, even if she didn't want it, what she needed to have were ideals.

Even if it's run-of-the-mill to aim for the best and end up with the worst—if you don't aim for the best, you won't even reach the next best.

"But, even if you say that, it's too—"

"No, no, I'm being completely serious. I'd like to think that I'm contributing to a world like that. I want the Iie-chan doll to stop the negative cycle of abuse begetting abuse. I want it to be able to clearly say 'no' to this unacceptable reality. Just as Iesumi-san wished."

Despite being given the name for "helping", it's something I was unable to do[?]—said Hanekawa.

"Now, time for a multiple-choice question. Choose the one you think is the correct option, Araragi-kun,"

she said, as though she was recalling being my private tutor in high school.

"Choice A. While Hitagi-chan is away, secretly go on a date with me without any aftermath. Choice B. Go with me to visit Associate Professor Iesumi to check if the blanket is there. Now, which do you think is correct?"

"...I was wondering what you'd give me, but it seems the difficulty of this is C."

I'm saved.

With those two choices, there was no way I could get it wrong.

11 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

scoops

— In what was to be a summer of excitement, love, and adventure, you’re doomed to a summer working a job to pay some bills. But hey, who said romance still wouldn’t find a way to work while working at Scoops Ice Cream Parlor? —

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pairing: kaibara sen x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, modern!au, ice cream shop!au

word count: 6,361

a/n: this is for the bnharem summer collab!!!! I am so very tired, when am I not at this point... um... yes, kaibara is def my fav class 1-b boy, sorry not sorry.

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The best part about summer… well, you really couldn’t begin to list what you loved about it. There was no bad part about summer. Sure, the days were hot and humid, but they were long and bright for so long you could go and do things for countless hours. You were able to stay out in the sun and feel the heated rays against your skin — road trips with friends and days when you had no sleep and those when you only slept.

Summer was indeed the best time of the year.

This summer was supposed to be the best, with your saved money from working at the student store for this last semester, you were ready to go places with your friends. Explore the unknown all in the name of youth.

There indeed wasn’t anything better about this time of the year than that.

Cute clothes, cute bathing suits, and cute accessories, as you trailed out of your classroom with your final finally done and completed, you were ready to zoom on toward home.

This was going to be the best summer ever, you thought, your heart racing in anticipation at the thought of your best friend pulling up at your home with a car full of friends. Your parents waving you off as you descended into the purpling and pink sky with nothing but an uproarious scream and celebration.

You really hoped you’d find someone attractive… maybe a summer fling?!

You giggled at the thought, your face warming even more under the deep sun rays, your body avoiding passing commuters.

This was going to be your summer!

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“You’re… you’re kidding me,” you deadpanned staring at your mother, who was in a full-body cast.

She looked at you with a sheepish emotion on her face, her eyes full of sorrow yet no pain. The moment you had gotten home and had switched from your finals outfit to something more practical, you had gotten a phone call from the hospital. It seems that your mother, in all her clutz, had tumbled down the staircase at her work. Through this, she managed to break both arms and legs, two ribs and broke her collarbone.

“M… Mom,” you groaned at the way she was laughing in total embarrassment; after all, miraculously, she was in little pain despite being hospitalized. “How did this happen?! Why did you — oh my god…”

“There was a mosquito flying by my head, and well… I tripped and fell,” she laughed loudly, smiling in gratitude when the nurse came to adjust her pillows.

“Why were you even leaving the office?! It isn’t even lunchtime for you, and you always eat lunch on the roof?” you questioned more, your arms folding across your arms.

“Well, um… you know how there have been cuts at the office, I just… I was let go,” she whispered in a small voice, face twisted with embarrassment and shame. While you wanted to feel sorry for your mother because after all, she had suffered horrendously, there was a quick realization of what those words meant.

Medical insurance was now gone.

“How are we going to pay for this?!”

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Having to wave your friends away with tears rolling down your face was hard. Their faces sullen at the fact that you had handed over your entire job savings to begin paying off the massive debt your mother built in a single minute. You also knew you couldn’t return to your job at the university, they were closed during this time.

There wasn’t much you could even find while looking around. Your resume wasn’t strong enough to earn jobs that would help your future career, not when competing against graduate students. The local shops and malls were already filled to completion; they always prioritized the highschoolers anyways.

You had almost thought it was pointless to even be searching until you stumbled across a corner ice cream parlor. It was the closest ice cream parlor to your house, and if you thought hard enough, you definitely remembered coming when you were small, and fortunately for you, they were hiring on the spot.

So here you were, in an old t-shirt, shorts, an apron fastened on, and your hair free from your face. The owner of the ice cream parlor showed you around, pointing at the different things that were lying about. He was a simple tour guide, he had told you, a simple introduction to what was lying about. Your coworkers would be the ones to teach you how to create the unique menu items, teach you how to work behind the scenes.

The smile on your face was stiff and very unnatural as he showed you about, stories of the old employee he had that had quit on him because they were moving suddenly. It was apparently a struggle for him to find willing workers at this time. He was also sure to name off the three other employees that worked here, and by the sounds of it, two of the three names were retired people who were so bored that they sought out a low-stakes job.

“Ah, there he is!” he exclaimed, his hands thrusting outwards as a tall, dark-haired man emerged from the back, a gallon of ice cream in his hands while he looked lost in thought. “This is Kaibara Sen! My youngest…er, second youngest employee now! He will be handling your training, he is very competent and well… a much better explainer than I am!”

You tried not to stare too much at the man, but he was for lack of a better term, beautiful. Dark hair, brown eyes, and a look on his face that just told you he definitely did not want to be here… it was basically love at first sight for you.

“Kaibara, this is y/l/n, our newest member of the family here at Scoops!” the owner exclaimed, his cheeks warm and his body brimming with excitement. “Please explain everything, I have to go now! My daughter should be out of school, and I have to go pick her up!”

You watched in silent awkwardness as the man picked up all his items and rushed out of there without a single word. Smiling awkwardly, you returned your attention to Kaibara, who was studying you without saying a word. Your smile began to pinch at your cheeks, the strain of the faux smile beginning to tire you out to completion while he changing the empty gallon of ice cream for the new one — you had to will yourself from staring at the very, very nicely toned arms of his.

“Hold this,” he spoke, his voice low and flat, almost entirely passive and bored while he pushed the empty cardboard into your arms. You hitched a breath in your surprise, your head nodding in your overall confusion.

The tub was cold in your arms, contradicting the overall harsh rays of the sun. You watched as he turned on his heel, moving back to the door, and you stayed put, your eyes wide in confusion and your increasing inability to stop checking him out. “Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to follow?”

Blood flooded to your face in your embarrassment, your head dropping while you rushed after him.

Needless to say, your first day on the job was an interesting one.

While your first impression of Kaibara was that he was hot enough to melt you into a puddle, you found yourself at a quick and immovable realization that he was an overall dick. He was disgustingly bland, his tone only riling you up when he crudely pointed out your mistakes and issues. He had explained to you in five minutes how the entire ice cream parlor worked — yes, in five minutes, and yes, he expected that you memorized and retained all that information.

Refill the ice cream when there’s only five centimeters left. Don’t touch the soft-serve ice cream machine because it often broke. Don’t flirt with any customers, don’t destroy the whip cream swirls on the ice cream sundaes. Don’t ever go into the freezer without someone knowing, don’t forget to clean the counters every hour if it isn’t that busy, don’t forget… well, you got it. There were many don’t’s in his vocabulary surrounding the rules and regulation of this ice cream parlor. Furthermore, he had thrown you to the wolves because the moment he finished up the rules here at Scoops where they ‘live to bring a lick of happiness one scoop at a time,’ a customer had walked in and of course, because beginners luck was not a thing, ordered the hardest thing on the menu.

Your back had never been sweatier, and your arms trembled as he practically breathed down your neck. There was no stopping this incessant mother birding of his, and your ears seared with heat when he called you out for every mistake you made.

“I thought I told you to not do that!” he muttered just loud enough for the customer to ask with worry if everything was okay.

The second you had handed of the quad-layered ice cream sundae that was most definitely a kickstarter to diabetes did you almost collapse in gratefulness of being done with that wretched thing. The customer did, however, frown significantly at the sight of the very ugly sundae, and you wanted to collapse in your failure.

The two of you were not… compatible coworkers, and that was apparent as the summer sun while the day went on.

He ridiculed your every technique, he frowned at the way your voice pitched when you welcomed customers, scoffed when you were overly sweet because he would love to see you being that kind in a month, and he glared a hole through your head the moment you tried to socialize while there was nothing to do.

So when the summer sun had set for the night and your arm burned from the repetitive and laborious action of scooping ice cream all day, you walked out of Scoops with a wavering bottom lip. This was going to be a long summer.

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“For someone who’s been here a whole year more than me, I’d’ve thought you were better than this,” you sang, pocketing the extra cash you got as a bonus for the fantastic and helpful review you had gotten on Yelp. Yes, America’s disaster of an app had finally made its way to Japan, and three weeks ago, your boss said anyone with a useful review on top of a five-star recommendation would get a bonus. You were always getting it. “What was that you were saying when I first began? Don’t suck? Hm, well, I think you need to get that under control on your own part.”

Kaibara rolled his eyes so hard you swore you could hear him do it. You tried not to allow the prideful smirk to become too apparent while you went about your shift reorganizing the front of the store. You had just managed through a demanding crowd of children, couples, and the elderly, and it was a mess.

It had only been the two of you today, too (the owner only worked the register, leaving the two of you to make the orders). While there was no getting along for either of you, there was a good work ethic between you that allowed you to work efficiently together. But of course, the teasing and taunting from your voice while you graciously took the extra cash made Kaibara seethe.

It was an unspoken, spoken competition between the two of you, and to make things worse for the environment between everyone, the both of you sorely got along.

He had called you incompetent, you called him lazy. He called you a useless employee, you called him fifth-rate at best. There was just a lot of tension between you and the man you had once thought was painfully attractive.

“It doesn’t count when you beg customers for the comment. Of course, they’re gonna take pity on you and your ass life; why do you think people give spare change to the homeless?” Kaibara smoothly stated, his fingers digging the cleaning rag harder onto a piece of fallen dried, sticky ice cream.

You nearly cracked the waffle cones in your gloved hands.

“At least I’m the one with the extra cash in your pocket!”

“It fell out actually, free change now,” Kaibara stated, pointed at the rolled money on the floor and quickly scooping it from the floor well before you could snatch it.

Your face twisted when you ended a near chest to chest with him, his eyes seeming to read you entirely while you definitely met his gaze, yet also managed to look cities away. Your upper lip curled with your frustration, and you shoved his chest, grabbing at the money in his hand.

Unfortunately for you, he was both quicker than you, stronger than you, and taller than you. He merely rose his clenched fist well above his head and smirked at how your face blanched at his actions.

“You’re a fucking dick!” you yelled, your hands latching onto his bicep and pulling down with all your strength. “Give me my damn tip!”

“It was on the ground, it’s finders keepers,” was his smooth response, his arm somehow freakishly strong enough to fight off your full weight and stay defiantly up.

Well, you definitely understood why no one liked working with the two of you, you were both annoying together.

“Kaibara Sen, if you don’t give me back my damn money right now, I will—” you were interrupted by how his lips pulled past his teeth into a fierce, biting grin.

“You’ll what? Punch me? It hasn’t hurt the last ten times you’ve tried.” He taunted you with no mercy, his head tilting just the slightest bit to further his point and to have your blood pumping yet again.

“That’s only because I wasn’t trying before!” you counter, your fingers pressing into his palm, your nails beginning to dig into his flesh while he tried not to let on that it hurt.

“You’ll have a friend of yours write a five-star review for you, and write a complaint about me?” he asked, bringing back to light the one time that your friends left not one, but fifteen five-star reviews. Of course, a handful of them had also decided to include that they were not happy with the treatment they received from Kaibara — not that it was possible given that they were not anywhere near here.

“Well, I didn’t know they were going to do that! All I was doing was exchanging stories about how I was working while they were all out having fun!” you attempt to defend, but it sounds weak because well, it happened.

“Ah, okay, I’ll try to remember that when I have my friends doing the same to you,” Kaibara sarcastically smiled, his arm finally dropping so that his fist was in your face, but it still remained defiantly closed. “I mean it’s only fair, and they didn’t abandon me on a whole summer long getaway!”

“I told them it was okay to leave, you jerk!” you grit out, your fingers trying to slip under his so that you could rip the money from his hand, but yours were beginning to sweat.

“Ouch, a jerk? Don’t hurt my feelings, please y/n, it’s making me tear up,” Kaibara sighed, his eyes very much interested in the way you were failing to get his fingers to open up.

“D-Don’t call me y/n! We are not friends enough for you to try acting casual with me!”

“Should I call you y/l/n-sama instead?”

“W… WHAT?!”

“Yeah, sounded weird to me too. I mean, after all, I don’t garner any respect for you, so why would I use that, to begin with!”

If you were a bird, you were absolutely positive that your feathers would be bristled and standing while you glared up at Kaibara with a near snarl on your lips. He matched your glare, his typically passive eyes ignited while the both of you neared in this hate-filled magnetism.

“Would you two please stop! This is the time for summer flings! Not swinging fists!”

The both of you whirled around to see your practically sobbing employer watch on with tears rolling down his face. He had been the most disheartened at the fact that both you did not get along at all, it was his biggest regret he had said many times over. While both of you did not fly twenty meters apart, Kaibara’s fist relaxed, and you managed to retrieve your money back from him with a satisfied ‘hmph’ before turning around.

Really you knew both of you together were insufferable. But to your credit, both of you were always civil in front of the customers. Well, at least polite enough for no one to speak up. But as you returned to your place by the corner to continue cleaning with your rag, you couldn’t help but look behind you at Kaibara, who was also staring back at you.

What an insufferable prick!

He stared at you, his lips pressing into a smile that you refused to admit made your heart hammer just the slightest bit faster in your chest, and the moment he caught on, the smile became a smirk before his tongue stuck out, and his finger pulled at his eye — or in other words, he threw you an Akanbe… well, your boss then had a ten-minute talk about how it was not okay to throw dirty rags at your coworkers.

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It wasn’t that Kaibara didn’t like you.

No, of course not, there was no point in garnering unpleasant feelings towards someone who didn’t matter to him at the end of the day, but sometimes… sometimes he really thought you being a piece of shit just to enact rage and violence from him. After all, as part of working at the ice cream parlor, their break time leisure was always brought with a free sundae with whatever you wanted because you worked, and tips were only really brought in by the rare American tourist.

But you were doing this on purpose.

“I want to add a caramel and chocolate drizzle, don’t forget to add peanuts… should I get whipped cream??? Is there enough??? I know we used almost half of our weekly supply on one kid?” Kaibara watched as you stroked your chin, ordering your custom-made sundae while you created this sugar-sweet dessert based on what he hated to create. “You know what… yes, I want some whipped cream, but I also thought that you could maybe smash it up like at Cold Stone? It makes it easier to eat.”

“I’ll spit in your ice cream if you make me do that.” Kaibara deadpanned, his fingers twitching on the serving spoons. If he was going to smash your toppings on the counter, he just cleaned, he was going to throw this in your face.

“And violate Healthcode Section 242?!” you gasped loudly, almost offended that he would do such a thing, and he wondered if you were pulling a number out of your ass. “Do it, I dare you! I really would like to have you replaced!”

He watched you triumphantly stick your nose in the air, your lips set in a victorious grin, but he just sighed. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

You seemed to have expected that from him, but you still played it off in a shocked manner with your hands pressing to your cheeks in your horrified expression.

“Oh thank goodness, I thought for a second there you were going to say something horrendously rude!” you laugh, your hands stretching out for your finished sundae, and he watched your tongue wet your lips while you brought it close to you. “My mom tells me that all the time, and she’s still in a full-body cast.”

“And that’s relevant because?” he asked, his eyes blinking slowly, his head tilting in his faux boredom — he wouldn’t admit it, but he was never bored with you around.

“Nope, totally irrelevant! But I figured your life is so boring that my daily news about my bedridden mother must be like what Fashion Week is for Youtubers,” you chide, walking over to an empty table and plopping down on the chair with overdramatic confidence and slight exhaustion.

“I think maybe you should stop talking and eat that ice cream before your break is over.” he returned, his hip pressing into the cold counter while he cleaned up the small mess he had made creating your monster of a snack.

“You’re probably right… your small brain needs a break.”

Your words were nothing new, but he still stared at you with a growing smirk while you brought your spoon of ice cream to your mouth and took your first big satisfying bite… well, that was until you tasted it. “EW! HEY! KAIBARA! THIS IS FUCKING DISGUSTING WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY SUNDAE?!”

“I added cherry sauce.” He shrugged, his arms folding across his chest while your face fell, your spoon digging into the sweet cream to shove the black sauce, which was not chocolate, to the side.

“THAT’S THE—”

“Worst? I know!” Kaibara nearly snorted at the defeated, almost depressing look that overcame his face. He wanted to dig more at you because of that, but was unfortunately interrupted when the front door opened and in came a customer. “Oh, welcome.”

He didn’t want to look away from the fact that you were pouting and eating your sundae still; your guilt of wasting food outweighing your distaste much more. But a weird twist of his stomach made his eyebrows scrunch when he noticed how the incoming customer stared at you. It was a look of interest, and while he didn’t even like you, why was he feeling like this.

He ignored it, shaking his head, he focused on the customer who said they were still looking, and he sighed.

It meant nothing… right?

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Well, it finally happened.

Today was your day off, but at precisely 12:35 p.m., your phone violently buzzed with an incoming call from your boss. You had been out on the backyards lawn trying to sunbathe with your towel on the dirt floor, trying to live the best summer experience you could. Your music had been blasting, so when the call came, you quickly picked it up to figure who was calling and why.

“Hello?”

“Y/N WE NEED YOU IN THE SHOP RIGHT NOW! THE EVENT IS CRAZY RIGHT NOW, AND THERE’S A LINE OUT THE DOOR! I’LL GIVE YOU OVERTIME JUST GET HERE NOW!”

There wasn’t even a chance to argue, a chance to say you were doing more important things, because the line ended immediately and you groaned loudly. To work it was, it seemed.

It took you fifteen minutes to get to Scoops Ice Cream Parlor, and you were surprised, to say the least, about how false your boss’s statement was. It wasn’t a line out the door, it was a line that went out the door and wrapped around the block?!

You locked eyes with Kaibara, who was also apparently called in today, and he merely raised an eyebrow at you before continuing what he was doing. In forty-five seconds flat, you had managed to get yourself ready to assist and were on it.

It was times like this that everyone was grateful for how efficiently you and Kaibara worked together, as odd as it was. The two of you worked on multiple orders together, passing things off to one another, gathering items, and sharing. It was done wordlessly, effortlessly, and efficiently; it indeed was not a reflection of how you two behaved normally.

In an hour and a half, the line had finally reached the last ten people, and you could almost cry in relief.

“Ah! A soft served vanilla ice cream with a chocolate drizzle! Y/n!” your boss commanded, and you nodded, your sweating cheek pressing to your shoulder to wipe whatever you could off. Without a word, you went back to the soft serve machines and without so much of a thought, pulled on the lever.

You quickly realized that pulling on that lever was a mistake, not a mistake you purposefully made, but a mistake.

Do not touch the soft-serve machine because it often broke… that’s what Kaibara told you all those weeks ago, but when he meant broken, he didn’t mean it didn’t produce ice cream. No, no, no. That would be too nice by the universe, after all! When he said it broke, you never expected the soft-serve ice cream to begin to pour from the machine, with no stop in sight.

“OH NO!”

The white vanilla cream poured endlessly from the machine, and you shrieked while trying to keep it on the cone you brought with you, but you were no expert in making those Instagram famous towers. Eventually, you watched in horrific slow motion as the ice cream tipped over and splattered on the floor, and in your moment of not knowing what to do, you attempted to gather the ice cream in your hands instead of letting it fall to the floor.

“Oh my god, stop! Please stop!” you chanted, your hands jiggling onto the lever hoping that it would make it stop, but it was to no avail.

With every passing second, your arm filled with more ice cream, growing colder and stickier with every moment.

“What the fuck is taking you so long — oh my god!”

“KAIBARA PLEASE HELP ME!!!!” you sobbed, feeling like a pathetic toddler of all things as your foot desperately tried to drag the trash can near you to keep the building icecream from falling onto the floor, but your legs were too short it seemed.

“What did you do?!” he hissed, running over slamming the trash can near you, but slipped on the fallen cone and crashed into you.

Much like how the ice cream cone had fallen in slow motion, Kaibara crashing into you, exploding the armful of ice cream gathered in your arms everywhere, sent you both to the ground.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” you sobbed in your hysteric laughter, the both of you now fumbling on the ground, the ice cream quickly seeping past the threads of the apron to seep into your clothes and burn your bodies slowly. “YOU MADE THIS SO MUCH WORSE!”

“Oh my god, would you stop?! Please stop yelling!”

“Get off me first! You’re so heavy!”

“The floors are so damn slippery, I can’t!”

“Roll off, you idiot!”

It was a chaotic, wild attempt by the two of you to calm down the machine that wouldn’t stop spitting out ice cream until it was empty. While no one else had seen the two of yours struggles to get into your feet (a feat that took twenty minutes and provided hilarious footage for your coworkers who watched it before closing), the both of you couldn’t speak of what happened without feeling like you needed to crumble away.

Thankfully, both of you were sent home afterward, before the ice cream could glue into your skin. But as you were walking out, your arms not being able to bend at the disgusting horror of the sticky firmness of the dried ice cream on your skin, you were surprised when a hand grabbed your shoulder and stopped you.

“I wanted to apologize,” Kaibara says the second you turn to look at him.

“What?” you stupidly respond, your eyes blinking rapidly as if you couldn’t understand him.

“I wanted to apologize about how I’ve been… how I’ve been behaving. We aren’t really friends, but after all that today, I just… can we start over?”

And somehow those four little words sparked a friendly fire in your core, and your lips stretched into a smile as sweet as the ice cream on your body.

“Yeah, I think we can.”

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This date was going horribly.

About nine days ago, a customer had walked in, seen you moping with an ice cream sundae made by Kaibara with black cherry sauce, and had asked you out. You were sure what exactly willed you into saying yes; after all, you didn’t know the guy personally, but here you were. Without wanting to seem rude, you definitely thought this date was going horrendously, and you wanted to get out, not that this man noticed anyways.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?” he asked, a smile spreading on his face while both of you exited the movie theater.

You thought about it, Kaibara wasn’t working today if you remembered correctly, and with Scoops being the only ice cream joint nearby, you weren’t about to stroll in on a date with him there. Since the whole broken soft-serve ice cream machine, both of you had taken to be friends like honey and flies.

The bickering didn’t stop, not one single bit, but the tone and the atmosphere behind the genuine arguments no longer felt like an introduction to some World War and now instead teasing and playing between friends. However, admitting and seeing that you were friends brought up an issue that you never thought was going to happen again — you once more found yourself attracted to the dark-haired man.

Yes, like some overzealous whore, you were out on a date while having very real feelings for your coworker.

But well, going back to whether you should go get ice cream, it would give you yet another reason to speak up at all.

“Sure!”

But of course, summer was not being your friend this summer it seemed, because when he held open the all too familiar front door, and you walked in with a grateful smile. You felt your heart twist and die the second that Kaibara walked out from the back, his already neutral face falling into stony coldness at the sight of you and your date.

“Welcome,” was his unwelcoming call.

Please let there be some freak accident that causes time to reset so you wouldn’t have to do this, you prayed, trying to calm the blood that threatened to rush to your face while your date began to talk to Kaibara. Your eyes glued immediately over onto the menu as if you hadn’t already memorized everything up there. Still, even with your attention very focused on the menu, you knew by heart already, you could feel those dark, nearly black eyes piercing through you.

When Kaibara was asked to cover a coworkers shift today, he expected it to be busier than it was today. He guessed that’s just how it was at times when the heat of the summer day failed to make anyone want any ice cream, but while it was nice to get paid without doing much work, it definitely sucked doing nothing. Which is why when the front door chime sounded, he offered to take on the customer… but he didn’t expect to see you here with some random guy.

He didn’t know why it bothered him really, the both of you were finally getting along superbly but seeing you there next to some guy who was trying to talk about just how amazed he was by all the ice cream flavors and how he met you here soured his mood intensely. At the same time, he continued to look at you. You were staring at the menu; he knew you could recite to the very typo on the board because he had riled you into memorizing it within the first week.

But when your sheepish gaze met his, Kaibara did not want to admit that the bizarre emotions he was feeling both disappeared altogether and intensified utterly.

“What d’ya want, y/l/n?” he asked you after taking down this assholes order. He took to your gaze, trying not to have some lame physical reaction to how he felt when your eyes warmed at the sight of him.

It meant nothing, it meant nothing, it meant nothing.

“I’ll have the caramel banana sundae,” you ordered with a smile while your date grinned after your selection.

“You really order the worst things on this menu, don’t you?” he couldn’t help but jab, knowing you would instantly focus on this mindless banter.

“Kaibara, I swear, say that to my face one more time!” you instinctively yelled. Although you were here on some date, he would confirm later (and would then have to internally admit that he was, in fact, jealous) he liked the fact that you spent the majority of your date in here talking to him.

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Sometimes you really wished that arresting the sun was an actual concept.

Why in the world was it even legal for the temperature to be 114°F and for workplaces to still be expected to run normally. God, it was so hot that it only felt normal in your ice cream parlor employment that your only moment of grace was when you walked into the back freezers.

“I think I’m slowly dying,” you whispered to Kaibara while you arranged the ice cream for the waiting customers.

Today had been reasonably busy, everyone coming in and exclaiming that they needed some ice cream to combat the summer sun, and you always nodded in agreement. But you guessed despite the blistering heat that couldn’t even stay away from the ice cream shop, you appreciated being able to suffer together with Kaibara.

“If you die and leave me here, I will kill you.” Kaibara’s eyes narrowed at you, and you laughed, shoving him with your shoulder.

“Good luck!”

You handed the ice cream concoctions to the family and watched as they seem delighted to have it before walking away.

After a perfect steady flow of customers, the parlor was at the moment empty, and you looked at the different ice cream gallons in search to see which needed to be refilled. You counted five, and you cringed, the both of you had been slacking it seemed.

“Come help me switch out the ice cream,” you demanded, spinning on your heel and marching off back towards the freezer.

Since your date, it had been… awkward with Kaibara, you hated to admit it.

The fact that he had seen you on a date was never again brought up, but it seemed that maybe it should have been considering the very awkwardness that bled into your relationship. Sure, he was beyond pleasant with you; as a matter of fact, there was hardly any bickering between the two of you because whenever it started, he would bite his tongue to keep from returning any of your lines — and you knew he had some comebacks.

You walked into the freezer first, reciting the ice cream flavors that needed to be replaced like a mantra to avoid multiple trips to and from the freezer. With Kaibara coming in behind you, you immediately walked over towards the frozen gallons and began to pull out the flavors that you needed to take.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Kaibara asked suddenly while you placed two of the gallons onto the floor so that you could grab the other ones.

You felt your spine stiffen at his words, your eyes wide while you turned behind you to see that Kaibara had also grabbed another two of the flavors which lead you with one more, which was nearest to you.

“Not my boyfriend,” you corrected awkwardly, your ears burning while you walked carefully over to the gallon in the far back wall. “I didn’t like him, I was promised a free ticket to a movie, and you know with my mom and everything I couldn’t pass it up.”

Without even looking at him, you knew that Kaibara had nodded his head in understanding.

“So you don’t like him?” he asked, his voice seeming to come from a few steps behind you, which caused a shiver to roll down your spine, but you mentally blamed it on the freezing air.

“No, I um… I like someone else,” you respond honestly, trying not to let on your embarrassed and flustered state while trying to take the gallon of ice cream out from the rack but was currently failing. “Stupid fucking ice cream!”

But your frustration towards the ice cream container was quickly and almost immediately forgotten the second his unexplainably warm hands grabbed onto your shoulders and spun you around. Your eyes widened at the sight of his slight shaggy black hair falling onto his eyes while he looked at you and then down at your lips.

“Am I that someone else?” he asked, and all the air in your lungs froze over and died. He read you like a book, and the soft chuckle that left his lips made your body vibrate with warmth as he nodded his head in perfect understanding. “Lucky guess, huh… you think I can kiss you, y/n?”

A simple sentence crossed his tongue, and yet your mind spun at his words as if he had offered you only the greatest riches in the world, and you found yourself nodding your head while reaching up to meet his own eager lips into a scorching kiss. You weren’t sure how long the kiss lasted, only knowing that with your fingers twisted into his soft locks, his fingers digging into your waist and keeping you breathlessly near, and the buzz that came alive with your dancing lips. He inexplicably and irrevocably overwhelmed you, and the near frantic breathing that passed through your nose was evidence of that.

By the time you two parted, you felt the world turn into some rose gold haze while you stared up at his smiling face.

The two of you would later find out that you had been locked in the freezer together, but on the hottest day of the year, next to someone who kissed you with enough intensity and passion that the freezer couldn’t even make you shiver, it was all okay.

#kaibara x reader #kaibara sen x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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