#like. had given me a 13 breakdown moment

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

rewatch thoughts:

the old musical motifs 😭

"no he means it like a metaphor, like two minds, dont you?" yea i'll bet hes got those too. 'fortunately the other one's unconscious' sort of a vibe here

anyone made a gifset of 13/14 looking through the mailslot moments yet bc that was cute

and did anyone else, when sylvia said "and then you got better", feel like doctor moon saying "and then you remembered" (also was 'donna noble is descending' a reference to the silence forest episodes too or smth else bc i didnt get that one, donna noble has been saved?)

almost forgot the most important one: SHES SO BEAUTIFUL

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |8|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 6.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam wiped away her tears as she left Tara’s hospital room. She jumped as the door slammed closed behind her. Tara didn’t need her, she had you now, maybe Tara never needed her. She left, she didn’t have a right to tell Tara what to do or judge the decisions she made. Sam left and her little sister grew up without her, she was an adult who had no need for her big sister anymore.

Sam once again jumped back when she turned away from the door and right into Richie. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Richie said softly, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s okay.”

“Were you listening at the door?” Sam asked, staring at Richie. It was kind of obvious he was listening at the door, just as you probably were, given how quickly you ran into the room. She needed to hear Richie confirm it himself though.

“No, no, of course not,” Richie tried to wave it off. “Okay, yeah, I was listening at the door,” he just as quickly caved, admitting he in fact was eavesdropping.

“It doesn’t freak you out, that my real father was a serial killer?”

Sam searched his face, wondering why he hadn’t run the second he learned the truth. Sam hated her birth father, she hated herself, she hated being related to him, as much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t blame Tara for hating her now as well, she fully expected the same from Richie. You already weren’t a fan of hers, learning this would probably make you officially hate her even more. Sam couldn’t see how anyone could like her, let alone love her, knowing who her father was and what he did. 

“I mean, yeah,” Richie nodded, giving her an awkward smile. “A great deal.” 

“Okay, go, I get it,” Sam shook her head, trying to keep control of her breathing and not breakdown. She had met an awesome guy, a nice guy, and now she had ruined that relationship, just like every other relationship in her life, all because of who her father was. “I just got to stay and figure it out.” Sam didn’t care if Tara hated her, she didn’t care if her sister never wanted to see her again, this was all her fault and she wasn’t leaving until she learned who attacked her sister, she wouldn’t rest until she knew her sister was safe. 

“I’m not leaving you here Sam.” He said it so simply, as if leaving her there alone never even crossed his mind. Sam couldn’t see how that was a possibility, if Richie were smart, he’d leave her, anyone else would have. 

“If you were smart, you’d get the fuck out.” 

“Well, then maybe I’m not smart,” Richie said softly, stepping forward and taking Sam’s hands in his own. “Because I’m staying.” Sam looked up at him in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe the words she was hearing, she couldn’t fathom why any sane person would stay when all this was going on, why anyone would stay with her knowing how messed up she was. 

Richie looked down, opening a closing his mouth slightly as if he were nervous to say what he wanted to say before looking back up, looking Sam directly in the eye. “I love you,” he said, his voice shaking with each word. Sam’s eyes darted around, searching his face, she truly couldn’t believe he said that. It was the first time Richie had ever said those words to her, she wasn’t sure if him choosing this moment proved how much he loved her or proved how crazy he was for being willing to stay during this insanity. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Sam said. She wasn’t ready to say those words back yet, she wasn’t sure what was keeping her from it, she had known Richie for six months and they had gotten along right away, becoming friends long before they started dating. Sam just couldn’t bring herself to say ‘I love you’ back. 

“So, your sister won’t talk to you,” Richie caressed Sam’s face, then began running his hands through her hair. “The police aren’t going to help, what’s our next move?” 

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what Richie said was true. She knew Judy had an officer on Tara’s room and others in the hospital, but they still weren’t anywhere close to actually figuring out who Ghostface was, so they were truly on their own in trying to catch this psycho. “We go talk to an expert.” 

Sam approached the trailer of Dewey Riley, with Richie right behind her, one of the perks of living in a small town was it was pretty easy to find someone, it took her less than a minute to get Dewey’s address. She didn’t know what to do, the only thing that made sense was talking to someone who was there at the beginning, who had survived this kind of stuff before. Technically Sheriff Hicks also survived but she didn’t like Sam and she barely counted as being apart of the whole thing. Therefore, it left Dewey, he was also the only one still in town, everyone else was either dead or had some sense and got out of town. 

Dewey was still sheriff before she left town, he was sheriff during all the trouble she caused. She had remembered seeing Dewey around the station, but she had never interacted with him. It was always deputy Hicks she had the displeasure of interacting with. Sam was also never officially arrested, Judy usually brought her home, occasionally when she was feeling petty, she’d cuff Sam, throw her in the back of the cruiser, and bring her down to the station until her mom could pick her up. No, the only person Sam saw Dewey regularly interact with was you. 

“Go away!” a voice shouted from inside the trailer as soon as Sam knocked on the door. 

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Riley,” she yelled back. “We just want to ask you a few questions.” She really needed Dewey to open the door, if he didn’t talk to them, she wasn’t sure what she would do, she had no idea how to prepare for a psycho coming after her and her sister. 

“I don’t give interviews.” Dewey sounded more irritated. Sam couldn’t blame him, she couldn’t imagine what his life has been like, surviving all those attacks and being good friends with Sidney Prescott. Dewey’s life was probably filled with nonstop questions, people and reports asking him to describe what happened to himself and to his friends. It couldn’t have been easy being constantly asked to relive probably some of the worst days of your life. 

“We’re not looking for an interview.” 

Dewey’s face suddenly appeared in the little window of the door to his trailer. “Give me one good reason I should talk to you.” 

“I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam said, staring Dewey right in the eyes. This was the first time she said she was Billy’s daughter and didn’t hesitate, she didn’t question the words leaving her mouth. 

The next thing she knew Dewey was opening the door. “That’s a terrible reason for me to talk to you.” Dewey was no longer yelling, Sam wasn’t sure if that was a plus though, he just seemed exhausted now. 

“My name is Samantha Carpenter,” Sam continued, Dewey at least opened the door, and she didn’t intend to back down now. “I was attacked last night at the hospital. The night before that my sister was stabbed seven times. I know you know what that’s like,” she said the last part softly. She might have wanted Dewey’s help, but she didn’t want to seem unsympathetic. “I’m just trying to protect my family,” Sam sighed. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.” 

“I’ll give you two minutes,” Dewey agreed, though he sounded firm in only giving them two minutes. Sam wished it had been more, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, this could be the only chance to get some advice from someone who survived not one attack but multiple. “I’m missing a show I like.” Dewey went back into his trailer, leaving the door open for Sam and Richie to enter. 

“Gale Weathers,” Richie said as he and Sam walked into the trailer. Dewey had her morning show on but quickly turned it off as the three of them sat down. “Weren’t you two…” Sam held in a sigh; she was starting to regret bringing Richie along with her. 

“Yeah,” Dewey said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Dewey took an aggressive sip of his coffee, flicking a glare at Richie before focusing his attention on Sam. “Who’s he?” he nodded to Richie. 

“This is Richie,” Sam said. “My boyfriend.” 

Richie smiled, readjusting in his seat as if he were about to offer his hand to Dewey and introduce himself. “How long have you known him?” Dewey never gave him a chance to introduce himself, he never even looked at him again, he just got right down to business. 

Sam was a little taken aback by the question. “Six months,” she answered anyway, though she was a little confused as to why Dewey was asking. 

“Did he know who your dad was when you met? Express any interest in Woodsboro or the Ghostface killings?” 

Sam gave an awkward smile, turning to look at Richie, she wasn’t sure if Dewey was actually serious. She came to him for advice not to be questioned about her relationship. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Richie asked awkwardly. He kept glancing at Sam as if wanting her to confirm if Dewey was serious. 

“Your killer is obsessed with the Stab movies, right?” Dewey asked, leaning back in his chair. Sam nodded, hesitant but curious as to where he was going with this. “Well, there’s certain rules to surviving a Stab movie. Believe me, I know.” Dewey looked off to the side, looking out the window as if his mind went to another place for a second. “Rule number one, never trust the love interest,” he shook his head, looking right at Richie. “They seem sweet, caring, supportive, but then welcome to act three, where they’re trying to rip your head off.” 

“I was with Sam in Modesto when Tara was attacked,” Richie said, instantly defending himself. Sam was looking at Richie, nodding her head to confirm what he was saying. They were together that whole night, she didn’t even get the call about Tara until the next morning. 

“And let me guess,” Dewey continued, sounding more cynical as he went on. “You were just in the other room, conveniently unaccounted for when she was attacked at the hospital.” 

“Okay, do I have to take this from shitty Sam Elliot over here, or what?” 

“Rule number two.” Sam slowly looked from Richie back to Dewey. “The killer’s motive,” he was still glaring at Richie as he spoke. “Is always connected to something in the past.” 

“I’m related to Billy,” Sam said. She already knew Tara was most likely attacked because of her; she knew even before Ghostface said he knew her secret; she knew the moment Wes said Tara was attacked by someone in a Ghostface mask. Hearing Dewey practically confirm it though wasn’t easy, Tara was basically attacked all because Sam was the daughter of a serial killer. 

“Right,” Richie said, nodding along. “But then why kill that random Vince guy?” 

Sam nodded at that; Vince seemed like a random victim. Tara was the first victim, then she herself was attacked at the hospital but it didn’t seem like Ghostface actually wanted to kill her, more like just scare her. You and Tara’s friends were all at that bar, you worked at the bar, you had been outside seconds after Vince was attacked, meaning Ghostface wanted Vince for some reason, no one else. 

“That’s for you to figure out,” Dewey said. “And rule number three, and this is the most important rule.” Sam turned in her seat so she could give Dewey her full attention. “The first victim always has a friend group, that the killer is apart of.” Sam nodded along, she remembered that being a theme in all the movies from the one time she saw them, and hearing about the real-life stories. “Does your sister have a closeknit group of friends?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding, Tara had exactly that. “She does.” 

“Then look for the killer there.” 

She knew Dewey’s logic; she knew from his experience that this was always how it went down. Sam couldn’t imagine it though; she couldn’t picture any of Tara’s friends attacking her. Tara knew all of her friends since she was a little kid, Sam baby sat all of them, they literally grew up together, Sam watched them grow up. The only person who was new to the group, or she guessed more so, new to Tara’s life, was you. 

“If you can find out why they’re doing this,” Dewey continued. “You can figure out who’s next.” That made sense as well; despite never understanding why someone would dress up and kill all their friends, the killer always had some sort of twisted motive and that motive tended to explain who their victims were and would be. 

“So, help us,” Sam tried pleading. She knew it was a long shot. Dewey hadn’t even wanted to let them in his trailer to talk, the odds of him agreeing to get involved were zero to none. “Help us figure out who’s behind this.” 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dewey sighed, sounding more exhausted than he had since opening the door. “I’ve been stabbed nine times, I’ve got permanent nerve damage, and a fun little limp. You think I want to do that again?” he let out a humorless chuckle. 

“You just said it always goes back to the past.” Sam still intended to try her hardest to convince Dewey to help, she didn’t think she could figure this out on her own, she needed help. “Right?” Dewey reluctantly nodded, seeming to know where she was about to go with this. “So, if I’m in danger, that means you’re in danger.” Dewey seemed to take in her words as he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Come on, let’s do this, together.” 

There was a split second that it almost seemed like Dewey was going to agree to help them. “Your time’s up,” he said instead. He quickly stood up, walking to his door and holding it open for them. 

Sam rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the couch and stomped out of the trailer, Richie following close behind her. As soon as they were out the door Dewey slammed the door closed. Sam couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved, it was insane for someone to willingly get involved in this mess, she had just told Richie that before coming to see Dewey. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still annoyed that Dewey wouldn’t help them. She figured out of everyone else in the world the person most likely to help would be someone who had survived what they’re going through now, Dewey knew quite literally what they were going through, and he still refused to help. 

“Okay, what’s next?” Richie asked as they made their way back to the car. 

“The friends,” Sam said, easily catching the keys as Richie tossed them to her. She didn’t want to suspect Tara’s friends, but they were the only ones that made sense. 

Before starting the car, she shot a quick text to Wes, asking him to gather the others. Wes quickly texted back saying he’d do it. Sam sat there for a few minutes when another text from Wes came through. Wes had said the others all agreed to meet at Mindy and Chad’s, since they were the niece and nephew of one of the victims of the second killings it made sense to meet at their house. Sam started the car and quickly pulled out of the trailer park, not carrying if she was speeding on her way to Mindy and Chad’s. 

Sam pulled into Mindy and Chad’s driveway, seeing a few more cars there as well. As they were walking up to the door Sam heard another car door closing. She turned around and couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dewey walking up to them. 

“You came,” she said when he was close enough. She truly thought he wasn’t going to help them, that she was completely on her own in trying to figure this out. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Dewey sighed, leading the way to the door. 

Mindy opened the door, leading them to the family room and telling them the others were already there. Sam had only been in the Meeks-Martin household a handful of times when babysitting the twins, but it hadn’t seemed to change much over the years. 

Sam stood in front of the others, she had just opened her mouth, ready to tell them that she was the daughter of Billy Loomis, when there was a knock at the door. Martha Meeks quickly ran to the door, happily greeting whoever it was. Sam glanced back and had to do a double take when she saw you walking into the room. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She asked them to gather everyone, she didn’t realize that meant you as well. She was honestly surprised you left Tara’s side for something like this, considering you refused to go to work until Tara basically ordered you to. 

“Tara asked me to come,” you said. Sam let out a hum, now that made sense. She wondered how much convincing it took to get you to leave Tara’s side. “You all have exactly one hour,” you pulled out your phone, quickly typing off a text to someone. “So, let’s get this over with.” You pushed past Sam and took a seat on the far end of the couch, putting yourself as far away from everyone else as you could get. 

“Why are you here?” Dewey asked. He squinted his eyes, watching you carefully even though you hadn’t so much as glanced at him. 

“Tara’s my girlfriend,” you said. “Going to arrest me for that? Sheriff,” you made sure to say that last part with all the sarcasm. 

Dewey narrowed his eyes at you. “How long have you been together?” 

You rolled your eyes, clearly not enjoying yet another person questioning your relationship. Sam would bet money that it also didn’t help that the one questioning your relationship is the cop who used to always deal with you. 

“It will be two years in December,” you sighed, obviously getting more irritated. “Can we move this along, please,” you looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I would like to get back to Tara.” 

Sam nodded, she didn’t want to shift the attention back to herself but you and Dewey arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially if you ended up storming out before they even got started. “Alright,” Sam said nervously. She glanced back to see Richie giving her an encouraging smile. “I’m the daughter of Billy Loomis.” 

Everyone’s mouths fell open. Sam could practically see their brains trying to process the information. Sam quickly ran to take her seat on the couch, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. She spared a glance at you, seeing you weren’t shocked, she figured you overheard her conversation with Tara or Tara told you herself. Your jaw was clenched as you stared off across the room, your hands balled into fists, and you refused to look at Sam. 

Mindy was the first to break out of her shock by instantly jumping to her feet and running to the closet they had filled with movies. Sam furrowed her brow as she watched Mindy shuffle around the movies, until finally finding what she was looking for and popping it into the DVD player. Sam suppressed a sigh when she saw it wasn’t Stab Mindy had put on but Stab: The True Story. It was basically a documentary of the true story, though no one who actually survived what happened was involved in the making of it or was interviewed. Sam was pretty sure Gale Weathers was involved in some way, but the documentary was mostly made up of pictures and found footage, with a ‘expert’ who had done their research and talked about what happened. 

“So, you’re saying that you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis,” Chad said, being the first to break the silence. “And that, what, one of us is the killer?” he gestured at himself and his friends. 

“The killer told me he knew my secret,” Sam said. It was clear Chad didn’t appreciate him and his friends being accused of being a killer but based on the history, it was always someone in the friend group. “He attacked Tara to lure me back here.” Sam caught you clenching your fists tighter as her words, she assumed you had already figured that part out as well. 

“But then why immediately go and murder some douche-nozzle that was stalking Liv?” 

“And why does it have to be one of us?” Wes asked. “What about deputy Dewey here? Maybe he’s the killer.” Wes shrugged. “No offense.” 

“None taken,” Dewey said. “But what’s my motive?” 

“You got stabbed a billion times, got dumped by your famous wife, and crawled into a bottle,” Wes listed off. “I think it’s safe to say you’re on the suspect list.” 

Sam let out a small sigh, she had gone to Dewey for help but what Wes said made sense. As hard for her as it was to admit it still seemed one of the friends was more likely involved than Dewey. Wes’s argument was good but Dewey suddenly snapping after all these years and going after some random kids didn’t make much sense. 

“Well, maybe you’re the killer,” Dewey said. “Cause that cut deep.” 

“That douche-nozzle is connected,” Amber said. “I googled him. His mom is Leslie Macher. Stu Macher’s sister.” 

“Who’s Stu Macher?” Liv asked. 

“He’s Billy Loomis’s accomplice,” Dewey answered, leaning forward in his seat again. 

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, nodding along, everything was finally starting to make sense. “So, the first three attacks are all on people related to the original killers.” 

“Oh my god,” Mindy said, shooting up from her seat. “He’s making a requel.” 

Everyone looked at Mindy like she had grown two head. “A what?” Sam decided to be the one to ask. 

“Like a sequel, fans are confused or torn on the terminology.” 

“God,” Chad sighed. “Please speak English.” Sam couldn’t help but agree, she understood what a sequel was, but she had no idea what the hell a requel was or what the hell Mindy was talking about. 

“Okay,” Mindy sighed, sitting up straight as she got serious about this topic. “Do you remember the Stab movie that came out last year?” 

“Oh, yeah, the one the Knives Out guy directed,” Liv said, seeming to know exactly what Mindy was talking about. Sam was still lost but decided to just wait and see where they were going with this. “You know, I actually really liked that one.” 

“Of course you did, you have terrible taste.” Sam rolled her eyes as Liv and Mindy had their little argument, even when she was a kid Mindy the habit of being a bit of a movie snob. “The point is the hardcore Stab fans hated it.” 

Sam sighed, beginning to tune Mindy out as she rambled on and on about why the fans hated the movie. She didn’t really care about a shitty sequel to a relatively basic franchise. She was hoping Mindy actually had a point to all this and her random movie knowledge about Stab would actually be useful. 

“What’s wrong with elevated horror?” Amber asked, joining in on the conversation. 

Mindy then went on to rant about how elevated horror was great, but it wasn’t Stab. The only reason Sam had some semblance of an idea as to what elevated horror was because even as a kid Tara loved that stuff. As Mindy said, Stab was a typical slasher whodunit type of movie, Stab wasn’t elevated horror. 

“Come on, it’s just a movie,” Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had to speak up, she couldn’t stand listening to them argue about movies and their deeper meaning, they were just movies, they were in the real world where her sister was really attacked. 

“No, it’s not,” Mindy said instantly. “To some people the original is their favorite thing in the world.” Sam couldn’t wrap her head around that, she got liking movies, but not loving one so much someone would begin to blur a movie with real life. “The movie that made them love horror. The movie that mom or dad showed them when they were ten and bonded them together.” Once again, Sam got that, she understood bonding with someone over a movie and both enjoying that. “And god help anyone who fucks with that special memory, who makes a movie that disrespects it.” 

Sam could sort of understand that as well. She truly understood loving a movie growing up and then a few years later someone deciding to cash in on that love by making a sequel or spin-off or something involving those characters and that world. It rarely worked out, it was usually made as a cash grab and not for the fans, then the new fans had a habit of hating it. Being pissed about a bunch of shitty sequel movies to your childhood favorite didn’t give someone the right to go around dressed up like the killer from the movies. That’s where Mindy was losing Sam. Sam didn’t get how someone could take a simple movie so far. 

“It sounds like,” Mindy continued, getting up from her seat before Sam could even think about interrupting her again. “Our killer is writing his own version of Stab Eight but doing it as a requel.” Mindy raised her hands, nodding to herself, clearly proud of her theory. 

Sam would admit, it was a good theory, that didn’t answer her original question though. “Which is?” Dewey asked. Sam was glad he still didn’t get it; she didn’t want to ask Mindy again. 

Mindy sighed, clapping her hands together as she tried to contain her clear irritation at them not getting it. “See, you can’t just reboot a franchise from scratch anymore, the fans won’t stand for it. Black Christmas, Childs Play, Flatliners,” she began gesturing around the room at her friends. “That shit doesn’t work! But you can’t just do a straight sequel either. You got to build something new but not too new or the internet goes bug fucking nuts,” she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s got to be a part of an ongoing storyline, even if the storyline shouldn’t have been ongoing in the first place. New main characters, yes,” she gestured around the room as if all of them were the new main characters. “But supported by and related to legacy characters,” she pointed at Dewey. “Not quite a reboot, not quite a sequel. Like, the new Halloween, Saw, Terminator, Jurassic Park, Ghostbusters, fuck, even Star Wars! It always, always, goes back to the original,” she picked up the first Stab movie to help emphasize what she meant. 

Sam was beginning to fully understand what Mindy was trying to say. “Are you telling me,” Sam started. “That I’m caught in the middle of fan fucking fiction?” she couldn’t believe this, it was even more insane than she ever imagined. She figured someone was pissed because she was Billy’s daughter not because they were hurt that the sequel to their favorite movie was total garbage. 

“Not just in the middle Sam,” Mindy said, a lot calmer than she had been than when she was rambling about the movies. “You’re the star.” Sam could only stare at Mindy, her mouth slightly agape. She knew she was the reason Tara was attacked but she didn’t think she was the reason all this was happening. 

“So, not to put like to fine a point on it,” Liv said. “But according to requel rules, who’s next?” Sam looked at Liv, her eyes coasting across everyone else. She wanted to figure out who the killer was but knowing who the next victim might be was just as important. 

“Going by the pattern,” Mindy said slowly. “Whoever it is has to be connected to someone that came before.” 

They all slowly turned to look at Dewey, he was the only one connected to the original killings. “I’m starting to regret coming,” Dewey said. Sam knew she told Dewey he was probably a target as well, but she didn’t realize how true her words might have been. 

“Jesus, my mom is a character in one of them,” Wes said, sitting up a little straighter. 

“No one cares about the shitty inferior sequels Wes,” Minday said with an eyeroll. “You’re safe.” She turned her attention to her brother. “With Randy as our uncle though, you and I are probably screwed. 

“Wait, what?” Chad asked. Despite literally being Mindy’s twin, he didn’t share the same passion for horror and movies that she did. It seemed as though he didn’t realize that being the nephew of one of the only survivors of the original attacks put a target on his back. 

“Or you’re the killer,” Richie began, laughing Mindy’s theories off. “And this whole elaborate monologue is just to cover your tracks. 

“I think it’s pretty clear who the killer is at this point,” Mindy said, laughing off Richie’s accusation. 

“Who?” Sam asked.  She was staring at Mindy, she had no idea who the killer could be, she didn’t know how Mindy could figure it out so quickly. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amber said, interrupting whatever Mindy was about to say. Everyone looked at Amber, but her glare was solely focused on you. 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. You didn’t seem happy that you were being accused but you certainly didn’t seem surprised. “Are you serious? What’s my motive?” you shrugged. 

Amber shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re dating Tara.” 

“Never trust the love interest,” Mindy mumbled. 

You snapped your gaze from Amber to Mindy, you actually seemed hurt that she was agreeing with Amber. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” you gestured, looking around the room. Sam did the same, seeing everyone staying silent, all of them either looking at the floor or at you like you were the prime suspect, the only one who looked the slightest bit guilty was Liv, she refused to look at you, opting to keep her eyes on the floor. 

“If I can’t have her, no one will,” Amber said. “Classic motive.” 

“The thing is,” you leaned forward, glaring back at Amber just as intently. “I already have her.” Despite Sam’s feelings on you she had to side with you there, you were already dating Tara, had been for a while now. There was no reason for you to attack Tara, there was no one for you to be jealous of and this wasn’t some twisted version of unrequited love. 

“Maybe you’re threatened.” 

“By who? You?” you scoffed, literally laughing at the idea of being threatened by Amber “Please! As if.” 

“Tara knows you’re not good enough.” Amber smirked, her eyes taking on a dangerous look. Sam had no idea what happened to warrant the animosity between you and Amber, but it was very clear where Amber stood regarding you. 

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, but Sam could swear she caught a glimmer of doubt in your eye. She didn’t think you necessarily believe Amber’s words but there was probably a part of you that truly didn’t think you were good enough for Tara, that she deserved better than anything you could offer her. 

“What could you possibly offer her?” 

“You’re trying to get me to doubt my relationship,” you kept your voice low as you pointed at Amber. “I don’t know why,” you shook your head. “It won’t work though. Tara’s love is the one thing I have never doubted.” Sam hated to admit it, but she admired your devotion to Tara and your commitment to each other. 

“Why are you still here?” Amber continued to poke. “You always talk about how much you hate this place, you literally despise this town.” Amber leaned forward, staring right into your eyes. So why are you still here?” 

“For Tara!” you shot to your feet. “I stayed for her,” your voice cracked. Everyone got silent, all of them dropping their eyes to the floor, except for Amber; Sam seemed to be the only other one willing to still look at you. 

“I was actually going to say Sam was the prime suspect,” Mindy was the first to speak up. Sam’s eyes widened; her mouth dropped open as she stared at Mindy. “Daughter of the original mastermind,” Mindy looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “It makes sense,” she shrugged.  

“But you,” she shifted her gaze to you. “You have nothing and no one, your parents abandoned you, you were a troubled teen, hated this small town, until magically you got your shit together, turning your life around, then began dating Tara, who just happens to be Sam’s sister. You knew Sam before, no?” you only acknowledged her with a glare. “The perfect suspect, one that’s seemingly unsuspecting.” 

You let out a humorless chuckle. Sam watched as you looked around the room, seeing how no one argued with Amber’s accusation or Mindy’s logic. “Fuck you,” you spit out before storming out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind you. 

“Yeah, because that doesn’t scream guilty,” Amber mumbled under her breath. “Well, this has been fun.” Amber stood up from her seat. 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. 

Amber rolled her eyes. “Home. Unless you want to accuse anymore of us?” Amber gestured around before making her way out of the house without a goodbye. 

Wes was the next to go but unlike Amber he actually gave a short goodbye to everyone before quickly running out the door. Last was Liv, she gave Chas a quick kiss, saying something about having to go to work and then she left as well. 

Sam sighed, figuring it was time they left as well, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome after basically accusing the entire friend group of murder and after sort of being accused by Mindy. “Well, that went well,” Sam said, as she, Richie, and Dewey stepped outside. 

Dewey gave a small shrug. “Now, what’s your plan?” Dewey asked. 

“Hopefully food,” Richie mumbled. 

Sam ran a hand through her hair. Gathering everyone together had been simultaneously useful and not. They now had a theory on what the killer was doing, they knew his victims were those related to legacy characters, but they still weren’t any closer to knowing who the killer was. 

“I need to get back to the hospital,” Sam sighed. Even if Tara didn’t want to talk to her, she needed to try. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Tara alone in the hospital too long, especially overnight, even if that meant sleeping in a chair outside her room or in the waiting room. 

“I was hoping for something besides hospital food,” Richie groaned. 

Sam sighed, she really didn’t want to waste time going to get food. “I can give you a ride to the hospital,” Dewey offered. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. 

Dewey nodded. “Yeah, it’ll give me the chance to ask some questions anyway.” 

Sam tossed her keys to Richie. Richie didn’t waste time, giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off towards the car. Richie had started and pulled away before Sam and Dewey had even started walking to Dewey’s truck. 

“A text!” someone yelled, stopping Dewey in his tracks as he started to walk towards his truck. Dewey turned around and Sam peered over his shoulder seeing a woman in a colorful business suit approaching him. “You let me know in a text!” she continued, walking right up to Dewey and slapping him. 

“You were on air,” Dewey weakly defended. That’s when Sam realized who this was, Gale Weathers. 

“How do you know that?” 

Dewey opened his mouth, then suddenly paused. It seemed like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit he still watched his ex-wife’s morning show. Sam couldn’t fault him for that it was either really sweet or really depressing, she was starting to think maybe a bit of both. 

“How did you find me?” Dewey settled on, crossing his arms. 

“I tracked your phone,” Gale said without shame. 

“You tracked my-are you insane?” 

Gale rolled her eyes. “I needed to find you and it was the quickest way,” she shrugged. “Who’s this?” Gale turned to Sam, seeming to finally notice her for the first time. 

“Sam Carpenter,” Sam introduced herself. “My sister was attacked. 

Gale tilted her head, her eyes instantly softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do we know anything yet? What about the second victim?” 

“Vince Schnieder,” Dewey said. “He’s Stu Macher’s nephew.” 

“He attacked my sister because I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam added. Gale’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head at hearing this information. Sam hated the fact that she was getting used to revealing that information. “Somehow the killer knows and now he’s going after those related to the original killings.” 

“What did you just say?” Gale whispered, her eyes taking on what Sam could only describe as a look of fear. 

Sam couldn’t blame her for being scared, Gale probably didn’t come back to town and expect to be even more in danger. “This psycho seems to be obsessed with the original movie and so disappointed in the ones that have followed, he’s decided to make his own,” Sam rolled her eyes. She still thought it was ridiculous someone was doing all this because of a movie. 

“She’s related to Billy,” Dewey said, pointing at Sam. “So, he went after her sister. Then Stu’s nephew,” he shook his head. “He’s going after anyone related to the legacy characters, anyone related to us.” 

Sam watched curiously as Gale pulled out her phone, furrowing her brow at whoever was calling her. Sam couldn’t make out who it was before Gale declined the call. Not a second later her phone buzzing again. Gale once again declined the call, rolling her eyes. 

Gale let out a frustrated sigh when her phone vibrated again, but this time it didn’t seem to be a phone call. Gale furrowed her brow as she tapped her phone. She furrowed her brow as she stared down at the screen, then her eyes quickly widened as if she realized something. “Oh, god,” Gale whispered. 

“What is it?” Dewey asked. 

“Oh god, oh god,” Gale continued to whisper under her breath. She quickly typed on her phone, dialing a number. Sam furrowed her brow; she had a feeling she didn’t want to know who had been trying to call Gale and what they sent her. “Dammit!” Gale screamed at her phone when whoever she was calling didn’t answer. 

“What? What’s going on?” 

“We need to go.” 

“What? Where?” 

Gale ignored Dewey’s questions as she dialed 911. Sam’s eyes widened; she didn’t know what was happening but clearly it wasn’t good. Gale began speaking quickly, rattling off an address Sam didn’t recognize it seemed as soon as someone answered. “Yes, it’s an emergency!” Gale yelled into the phone. “Tell the sheriff it’s about Ghostface! The next victim is Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Sam’s eyes widened at hearing your name. “We need to go,” Gale said. “Now!” Dewey seemed just as confused as Sam felt but he didn’t question it as he took off towards his truck, Gale right behind him. Sam followed their lead, running off after them. She jumped in the backseat, just barely getting the door closed before Dewey took off, his wheels squealing against the pavement. Sam gripped the sides of the front seat, staring out the windshield, silently hoping they’d get to you in time. 

[justawritterwithideas]

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ previous part | next part ✩

summary: Things start to get a little tense when Y/N and Spencer have to come face to face to find the person who wants to hurt her, but a clue leads to the total breakdown of everything.

general warnings: this series contains topics such as mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers.

chapter warnings: this chapter contains strong language, confrontations, mentions of murder, among other similar things. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

words: 4,380 words.

a/n: hi guys, after days there's finally a new chapter of boy wonder and the rockstar, yay. sorry for the delay but it's been weeks without creativity, but finally i can upload a decent chapter. sorry if it's a bit (too) dramatic, but put yourselves in y/n's shoes, ok? this chapter has strong confrontations and a little bit of plot change, but don't worry, in the next chapter everything will calm down, trust me. thanks in advance for the love and also for the support for the previous chapters, see ya!

𝟎.𝟑: 𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞��𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧.

Sometimes, our mind plays tricks on us, like remembering those embarrassing moments in life, but not remembering the formula to do an equation; remembering what that person told you and that marked you forever, but not remembering what your mother asked you to do.

Sometimes, also, destiny plays tricks on us.

Those times when you ask, please, that the earth swallow you up and spit you out anywhere else but there, that it take you to the deepest part of the planet and disappear until everyone forgets you exist.

I think that concept was the exact way to describe what Y/N and Spencer were experiencing after coming face to face, after 15 years.

On the one hand, the astonishment of the girl's friends and on the other, the confusion of the boy's friends.

Face to face, facing the reunion and the various emotions they experienced from head to toe.

"Reid, do you two know each other?" Emily's voice made them both turn in her direction, but Spencer without even being able to bring himself to answer, the words were snatched from his mouth and taken up by the opposite.

"It's not something I'm interested in being honest, but us knowing each other doesn't affect the investigation, does it?"

Bang, first bullet.

"No, it doesn't affect."

Spencer glanced in the blonde's direction, crossing glances again for the second time that day.

That warm look she always gave him when they met had become the iciest anyone had ever given him.

Bang, second bullet.

"Miss Autumn... Or Y/N?"

"I'm both, I don't mind being called one way or the other." The girl looked in the direction of the group of people, who were watching her trying to decipher where she and the tall one knew each other from. To divert attention, she changed the subject. "Please sit down, I feel a little embarrassed that you are up and we are sitting down." Commented the girl.

The group of people settled around the four individuals seated on the large couch.

But Spencer's eyes did not move from the girl, who stirred uneasily in her seat.

Y/N was more nervous about the presence of the man she hadn't seen in years than about what had just happened a couple of hours ago.

Her hands were shaking, her heart was pounding in the bottom of her chest, she was out of breath and her mouth felt dry, as if she had run a marathon.

She knew that at some point she would meet that boy, the thing is she didn't think it would be so soon. The situation they were in wasn't the best, and even less so with the context behind it, but clearly fate didn't care what was happening and made them meet despite Y/N's prayers not to meet the one-who-must-not-be-named again.

Spencer looked more mature, even though he was always mature for his age. She remembered that he used to do the fee slip for some older friends that Y/N used to have, plus he knew how to think maturely regarding his decisions; not like her, who chose her hair color based on which box of dye was cheapest in the market, but Spencer always said she looked good in any color.

"Miss Y/N." The woman's lost gaze went in the direction of the blonde girl speaking to her, blinking quickly to focus.

"Yes? Sorry, I was just thinking..." Her gaze went from side to side, noting that they were expectant of her answer. "Excuse me, what was the question?"

A sigh came out of Tyler's mouth, who was leaning against the back of the couch. One thing the guitarist hated was the police, more so the feds so, them being there was not at all to his liking.

"I was asking what you did prior to you getting the box."

"Oh yeah, well we were coming from a sound check of the venue where we would be performing. We did that and then we would go to lunch, but before that we were going to stop by the hotel for a change of clothes. I walked into the front desk and was talking to Felix, but before I got on the elevator the receptionist told me that a package had arrived in my name." The girl let out a soft sigh, refocusing on her story. "I wasn't surprised that a package would suddenly arrive, usually information about where you are and who you're with usually travels faster than light, plus it's not the first time it's happened to me."

"What do you mean it's not the 'first time it's happened to you'?" J.J. asked again.

"Well, usually brands contact the band's marketing people days in advance to find out where we are to send packages, to use at concerts or interviews as part of the publicity. It's not the first time a brand has sent a package to a hotel for us to receive." Suddenly, Y/N's face became a bit of an enigma to people. "Even though I was surprised that it was addressed to me, usually they tend to address it to Gerald because he is the manager, they don't usually expose our personal information because of possible leaks."

"That's true, they always send packages in my name by protocol, it's part of the contract that is signed with the brand at the time of sending it." Gerald stated.

"So them sending packages in your name is not a normal thing, is it?" asked Emily.

"That's right, there are usually packages that come with letters inside that indicate who they are addressed to, you know... 'Dear Autumn or Dear Paradox'." Spencer's gaze went in the direction of the pictures in the package and then to the girl in front of him, who looked distracted at the rings on her fingers.

None looked like a wedding or engagement ring, Spencer thought.

Even though that thought quickly faded, it was unprofessional to think about it when a madman was after her and sending her ghoulish gifts.

"So the person thinks they're close to you, or they're a person from the past who was close to you." Commented Tara, who simply kept leaning against a wall.

"It's kind of hard, a lot of the people who were close to me suddenly cut off contact or are stuck with me, like this group." A fake laugh escaped Y/N's lips, glancing in the direction of Reid, who was lowering his gaze.

Bang, final punchline.

"Thank you, miss. We know it's important information you've just given us, but we'll still have to conduct an interrogation with all of you separately." Before anyone could protest, Emily continued. "This way we can rule them out as suspects, we know they wouldn't hurt Y/N, but this way we can start working quickly and efficiently to find the culprit, before it gets any bigger."

"What do you mean by 'bigger'?"

Y/N looked in the direction of the woman in the suit, who simply let out a sigh.

"That it might come to hurt someone in your circle or... you."

All the air in Y/N's throat shot out, feeling her insides stir at what the woman had just said.

They could hurt her friends just by being friends with her, the only family she had left just by being close to her.

"Thank you agents." Gerald stood up as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he had to warn the management straight about the risk of the tour at this point.

This was a disaster, a complete disaster.

It had been a couple of hours since the agents had set up at the hotel.

Since that couple of hours, Spencer had not been able to cross a single word with Y/N.

It wasn't because they wouldn't let him, on the contrary, he'd had plenty of opportunities to do so.

But the words in his throat wouldn't come out, it was as if they were trapped and his brain wasn't working at all.

"How do you know Autumn, Boy wonder?"

Penelope's voice snapped Spencer out of his chimera.

"What are you talking about, Garcia?"

"Don't try to fool me, it's clear you two go way back. You knew who she was with just a glance and she confirmed it, even though you'd never seen who it was. You didn't even react when we saw her pictures at Quantico, you didn't seem to know who she was until she spoke here, so tell me now, how do you know her?"

The woman's hands went to her hips, implementing pressure to get Spencer to talk about what was going on.

Y/N and Spencer were a couple of feet away, but they seemed like they were miles apart.

"It's a long story." Spencer began.

"If you don't tell me, I'll investigate under my own steam and believe me now that Hotch is gone, I'm not going to stop."

"Well, Y/N and I have known each other since college. We were friends for a long time, exactly three years..." A long sigh took hold of Reid, who felt all the memories together fall like an avalanche of sensations and emotions, just like how it was when he was in college. "I think he was one of the few people who put up with me during this time and who supported me the most. But when I was accepted to the academy I promised not to cut off contact with her when I moved to Virginia..."

"So what happened, why did it seem like running into you is the most horrendous thing that ever happened to her, even though she got a human finger this morning?" Penelope's own questions were answered as she looked at Spencer's embarrassed face. "Don't tell me that... Oh no, Spencer."

"I stopped responding to her letters within a month of arriving in Virginia, cut off all contact with her."

It seemed that admitting it made the pain stronger and stronger, like a stake through his stomach and his whole body.

"Why, Spence, why did you do that?"

"Well, the truth is-"

"Guys, there's security camera footage. Penelope we need you."

They both looked at each other before they could make their way to where everyone was.

They were all standing around the computer, where it was clear on the monitor screen as someone dressed as a courier dropped off the box, then handed a receipt to the receptionist and quickly left. Fast forwarding the recording, the moment where the band enters and the package is handed over can be seen.

"Well, the girl gets the package and then asks a question." Luke spoke aloud.

"She probably asks who sent it or who delivered it, to make sure it's for her." J.J. replied back.

"And then she goes to the elevator, the doors close and then..." The recording switches to the one in the hallway where the group is seen exiting the elevator heading to one of the hotel's private rooms. The new image is seen in the boardroom, where everyone is seen sitting around chatting and the woman opening the box.

The scene seemed orchestrated for a key scene in a horror movie: the girl screaming, holding her hands to her mouth and the others seeing the inside of the box, Felix trying to calm Y/N down, Tyler running out of the room, Gerald calling mortified to what appeared to be the police and Shawn calling on the phone in the room to what would be reception. In a quick lapse, the amount of people running in and out of the room is seen, leading people outside to leave the scene as close to what had just happened and soon stops when the police arrive, who do the procedure when faced with such situations.

"The group enters the room, Y/N opens the box, yells and soon everyone takes different stances with what they just saw, but no one touches the box except for Y/N..." Rossi watches Penelope replay the recording from the beginning, from receiving the package.

"I think it's common sense seeing that, I wouldn't touch a box with a human finger too." Garcia replied to Rossi.

Spencer watched everything in extreme detail, trying to figure out what he was missing. There was something that didn't add up to him, as if it was all set up to happen that way.

"Doesn't it look to you like everything was perfectly organized?" Spencer's voice made everyone turn to him. "Like everything all of a sudden was made to run like that, like that person wanted us to see what happened, every single thing that happened while we got there."

Every single movement of the band was on camera, from their departure from the hotel in the morning to their arrival at lunchtime; from when, Y/N, they received the package to when they opened it, what everyone in the band was doing at the time of the event and even after the event, every single movement was monitored by the cameras, every single one of them.

"It's as if that person knew their routine to the letter, every single schedule and activity..." At the time, all BAU members had one person in mind, the only person who could know every detail about them was the one who lived 24/7 with them.

"Thanks, big G." Y/N received the coffee between her hands, drinking it from the makeshift interrogation room. The five of them were looking at each other, trying to understand what they were doing there and how they had gotten there.

"I don't understand why they have us here, we haven't done anything. We've already told our story a bunch of times and to different people, what the fuck are they waiting for to free us? A divine miracle? For this crazy guy to come and turn himself in?" Tyler was the most dismayed at that moment, at any moment he was going to explode against anyone who stood in front of him.

"Stop it, Tyler. We're not getting anything out of your shitty attitude, they're shuffling through every possibility to rule us out of being a crazed psychopath out to hurt Y/N." Shawn gently patted Tyler to try to calm him down, but it seemed to have made him more prone to explode. "The more we help on this, the faster we can get out here and have a good nap."

"Shawn's right, guys. Let's try to make it easier for the agents to investigate, so we can get on with the tour as soon as possible." Gerald finished with his pack of gummies, tossing the wrapper in the trash.

"What did the bosses say regarding this?" Y/N's words made Gerald let out a sigh, sitting back in the chair where he was.

"As long as this won't calm down and that none of us were in danger, the tour will have to be paused or at worst, cancelled."

A wave of protests came out of the band's mouths, causing Gerald to have to pound the table to calm them down.

"Cancel it, G? We haven't been on stage for two years and to suddenly cancel it, our sales will go down." Tyler vociferated, rising from his seat.

"What's going to happen to the fans? We're going to disappoint them if we cancel it just like that, they've waited for four years for new music and two for a tour, are they going to keep us on indefinite hiatus again? You know how long we've waited for a tour, they know the level of fans we manage worldwide." Y/N was next to rant, bringing one of her hands to her hair to comb it.

"Can't you tell your fed friend to help us hurry this up?"

A current of electricity coursed through every part of Y/N's anatomy, who turned to look at Tyler for his words.

"No."

Y/N's words were harsher than breaking a diamond in two, causing the guitarist to raise his hands in a symbol of peace.

"Let's try to stay calm, guys. Let's not lose our peace, this will work out, I read that the BAU is one of the most prestigious groups in the FBI, they'll be able to solve this problem before this goes any bigger." Felix turned in Y/N's direction, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and invited her to sit next to him.

The silence and calm didn't last long as Spencer and Emily entered the room, along with two police officers.

"Officers, are you bringing news?" Shawn asked, before he could watch as the officers approached Gerald's chair.

"Mr. Gerald Murphy, you are under arrest for being the prime suspect in the crime committed-" Emily's voice made all four of them stand up from where they were.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Felix was the first to react, trying to stop them from slapping handcuffs on the oldest of them all.

"What are you talking about, he didn't do anything! Gerald!" Y/N's loud voice made Emily's voice sound in the background, which recited the rights he had and escorted him out of the room. "Gerald! Please!"

"Hey! You sons of bitches, he had nothing to do with it!" Tyler went after them, along with Shawn who had him by the hip so he wouldn't throw himself at them.

"Shawn, call corporate! This is a misunderstanding, calm down." Slowly, Gerald's voice became more and more distant.

"Gerald! Please, he didn't do anything!" Y/N was more agile than the officers, so she quickly wriggled out of their grip.

She still didn't get very far when familiar hands held her back from going outside, where a group of paparazzi were waiting for some action for the morning news.

"'Stop it, Y/N... Enough fighting." Spencer's voice made her fidget, trying to get out of his grip, but starting to tire after a few struggles.

"Let go of me, Reid. Stay out of it, he didn't do anything." The girl's slender hands went to the chestnut's wrists, making them downward to signal him to let go.

When the boy released her, it made Y/N turn in his direction.

She was angry.

No.

She was furious, her face was red with rage and her voice was shaking.

"What's the matter with you people!? You just took away an innocent person."

"The evidence places you as the possible perpetrator, Y/N." Spencer was trying to sound calm, occupying his most professional voice in front of the girl.

"What the fuck are you talking about! He was with us when I got the package! And the last two months since he started the tour! We would have noticed if it had been him." Y/N's hand movements indicated desperation and exaltation, Spencer could tell with her body language.

"Have you been with him in the moments he's been missing to do unofficial things? Or in the spare moments between rehearsals?"

Y/N's voice was replaced by silence, leaving the most obvious answer in evidence.

"That person can be dangerous, Y/N."

"Then why didn't he ever do anything to me? Why didn't he ever do anything to us?" Y/N folded her arms, still wearing that annoyed expression on her face.

"Because I use decoys to take out his anger."

"What do you mean, a-are there more people besides Bruno?" Her voice trembled at the recent news, bringing her hands to her face as she realized Spencer's facial expression hadn't changed at all at the bad news.

"At least eleven cases have been linked, Y/N."

There's that scary expression again, Spencer thought.

Y/N had to brace herself against a wall to keep from losing her balance, feeling a sensation rise from the pit of her stomach to her throat.

Even though he was aware of what was happening, there was one thing that was clear to him.

"Gerald wasn't, Spencer. I can bet my voice on it, he's innocent."

"Y/N, the evidence-"

"Fuck the evidence, Spencer! He didn't do it! He wouldn't be able to! He bet his whole career on a broke shitty band, he bet his life on us." Small salty tears began to fall down the cheeks of the girl, who faced the young man. "Someone who bet his life, his career, his fate on a band with no future couldn't do that."

"Y/N..."

"No, Spencer! He wasn't, that's my final word." The petite girl's small body walked past the taller one, bumping her shoulder against the other's arm as she left the scene.

"Please, Y/N, listen to me."

Despite Reid's long legs, he wasn't able to catch up to the young blonde who was disappearing inside the elevator.

Everyone's attention was around the heated exchange of words between the two, it was impossible to let go of the situation they had just witnessed and even more so with the end of it.

The man leaned against a wall, letting out a heavy sigh before he could turn around inside the room where his companions were.

"Spence, everything okay?" J.J approached his best friend, who looked somewhat upset from what had just happened.

"Everything's fine, J.J. She was upset about the situation that just happened." He commented giving a long sigh, looking in the direction of the elevator door where the girl had just disappeared. "It's all right, okay?"

A new silence surrounded them with the people in the place, watching each other's faces for the next move they were going to make. Spencer was touchy, everyone knew the singer was detonating something even they didn't know if they could handle, a side of Spencer they had never seen.

"Excuse me, Dr. Reid?"

The brown-haired man's gaze went in the direction of the door, where the boy they identified as Shawn was standing.

"Can we talk?"

The cigarette between Y/N's fingers was burning away as time went by. The icy wind on the terrace gave her goose bumps, but she tried to forget the event that had just happened.

They had arrested her only remaining family, accusing him of being the person who might be sending her those horrible obsessive messages and also accusing him of possibly hurting her.

Along with this, she had just run into the person she thought she had forgotten after 15 years and would now have to be with him behind 24/7.

Footsteps sounded behind her, causing her to let out a whimper and, without looking back, she blurted out.

"Felix, please. I want to be alone, what part of that don't you understand?"

The smoke in her lungs choked when she heard the answer.

"I don't think it's a good idea to be alone on a rooftop, Y/N."

The girl's body turned, watching the tall man behind her. He had his hands in his pockets and had that look on his face that made her get on her knees.

"Least I want to see you, Reid. It's already too much to share with you for the last few hours." She commented sullenly, taking one last puff on her cigarette and flicked it to the ground, stomping on it with the toe of her boot.

The contrarian's arms crossed her chest, starting to walk in the direction of the door that divided them from the elevator and the terrace.

"Y/N, listen to me." Spencer's hand caught one of the girl's arms, causing her to turn sharply to push him away.

"I have nothing to hear from you, Spencer. Unless it's to get Gerald released."

"Gerald may be the person who wants to hurt you, Y/N. I'm doing this to protect you."

"Protect me or make a wash of your image?"

"You know better than that, I would never do anything like that."

"How can I believe you? Liars don't change, Spencer. Do me a favor and let me go."

Y/N's attempt to flee had been interrupted, again, by the older man who wouldn't let go of her arm.

"Please, you have to listen to me."

"No Spencer. It's been long enough that we could talk, and now I have to listen to you because you want me to? What's happen with me, I have to ignore the fact that you didn't contact me for 15 years and now I have to act like we're lifelong friends? No Spencer, it won't happen."

"Y/N, this goes beyond that, it's import-"

"Important? This is more important than you erasing the idea that I ever existed? That we ever had such a strong friendship? That I supported you in every way you could think of, what about me, Spencer? Do I also have to forget all the damage you did to me when you disappeared? It's not fair." Y/N's cheeks burned, all the pent up anger she was going to take out on him. "It was always 'Spencer this, Spencer that' you, you and you. For once, in your life, stop thinking about yourself and think about me, for once in your fucking life!"

"Things aren't the way you think, stop imagining things that aren't."

"Then how were they? Explain to me how things were. Go ahead."

The atmosphere between the two was so tense that they could cut it with a knife, as if suddenly all time stopped for both of them.

Spencer had a chance to redeem his mistake, to prove that the reason things were done this way was not because of his own arrogance, but to protect her. To prove the point of his absence for so long, of cutting off contact so suddenly, that he had done things right and always, always, thinking of her.

But he didn't.

"It's not the place and time to do it, Y/N."

Spencer could see the hint of illusion Y/N had in her eyes fade, as her pupils went completely black and on her face neutrality returned.

"Right, because for you it's never the place and time to do it, Spencer." Before she could turn around, she came back to face him one last time. "The day you have enough pants to face the problem, that day talk to me but for now, don't you dare cross me unless it's to get Gerald back here."

For the second time that day, Spencer watched Y/N's blonde hair disappear behind the metal doors.

Just like the last scent of their past together.

@alexa-33 | @ahhhhyesk | @imthefuckingleader | @narmothewraith | @kneelforloki | @niyahwhoreworld | @lexie0037 | @deadunicorn159 | @corpsebridenightamare | @preciousbabypeter | @sakuramadae | @zzz000eee | @runefirestarter | @sebastiansstanswhore | @whateverrrrrrrrs | @xsarcasticwriterx | @chris-seb-marvel | @bellaramseygfsblog | @lillysbigwilly | @dezibou | @astrophileous | @ily2lia | @sophiario | @valenftcrush | @oxace-of-heartsxo | @spencerrxids | @w31rdg1rl | @ineedsomezzz | @yeehawbitchs | @coolstories66 | @baku-hoes-blog | @bollzinurmouth | @louderfortheback | @flowersownme | @venomsvl | @strawberry--fawn | @maereasblog | @stevenknightmarc | @imaginexred | @chargrilli | @emrys-m | @queenofthedreaming1 | @lostinheavensworld | @sugarbutterbailey | @kaicyl | @fudosl | @read4funz | @mrsgweasley | @lazybot | @myfatbottomedgirls | @adaydreamaway08 | @narmothewraith | @dianalafleur | @basicallynotbreathing | @mj0801 | @augustinesletters | @clockworkballerina | @maereasblog | @niyahwhoreworld | @yourfavunsub

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

its been itching my brain for a while so if you could please give me something to chew on—do you have any headcanon's for A, like what he (she?) might've behaved like or looked like? I'm really just asking for a nice sandwich and I love the ones you've made (Alphard) and would appreciate another

That time @therealvinelle and I made a character out of fucking nothing.

I assume you mean A from the Death Note universe? Sorry, I've got nothing for you.

The thing about what @therealvinelle and I did with Alphard, and why it worked, was the single solitary detail we did get, along with a few others, paints an incredibly detailed picture to work with.

I only have about five things on hand, but good god, do I get to see that man's entire fucking life.

We just don't have the same for A.

What We Know About A

A is introduced in Death Note: LABB, for those super Death Note nerds who read the novel like I did. There's no mention of either A or B in the manga or in the anime.

A and B were the first gen successors to L, before Mello and Near, and the premise of the novel is that "wow, that successor program was a really shitty idea even before it was a shitty idea!" in that of the two a) A couldn't handle the pressure and killed themselves b) B couldn't handle the pressure and turned himself into a physical clone of L, then sought to make a case so complicated L couldn't solve it, culminating with lighting himself on fire. The great irony being L had so little interest in dealing with it himself, he makes Naomi Misora do all the work/all the talking to 'Ryuzaki' without supplying any pertinent information or saying anything more than "uh huh, wow, such detective, such good, Misora" and only at the end admitting, "yeah, that wasn't me, that was my rampaging successor, but good job catching him."

A is years dead before the novel begins, and gets a one-off mention by our totally unbiased narrator Mello, totally, as being B's rival for the position of successor who at some point before it could be decided killed himself.

But let's try to bullet point it.

A Was Chosen: Nationality

First, we know A is at Wammy's.

We don't know exactly how Watari/Roger recruits for Wammy's, how you are selected to enter the 'successor' program, or even the scope of just where they draw successors from.

(I don't have vol 13 on hand at the moment, but I believe it only went into the ethnicity breakdown for L, not even nationality, and it's...

When asked about L's ethnicity, creator of the series Tsugumi Ohba responded, "I think of him as a quarter Japanese, a quarter English, a quarter Russian, a quarter French or Italian, like that." Ohba said that L is the most intelligent character in the entire Death Note series because "the plot requires it." He added that he personally views L as "slightly evil." - from the wiki

Rock on Ohba, rock on with your.... "quarter Russian, Japanese, French/Italian, English".

I also love "slightly evil" from a man who has multiple "torture X character" arcs.)

Given we only see four characters who went through some variation of this program in the manga/anime (L, Near, Mello, and if we even count him Matt), it's really hard to judge. We know Beyond Birthday, by the time he meets Naomi, looks similar enough to L that the entire premise of the book is "oh wow, that's totally L and Naomi doesn't know, oh wow he's doing all the things you--TOTAL SHOCK IT WASN'T L AT ALL"

But if we have to choose, and we have to do this in a way that fucking makes sense given how borders work and that "no, Roger, you can't just take random orphans from any country you like and stick them in your Batman orphanage" then A is either from Britain, maybe Ireland, or if we're really stretching things maybe Western Europe.

Other places are possible, and they could bullshit their way in getting A to England, but there's also the fact that A is chosen for this program. It's unclear just how much searching Wammy's does for talented orphans who will fit the role of L (having the level of intelligence Watari and co. are looking for, the drive and desire, and being the world's most super genius to recreate the success of L).

Now, the manga/anime implies that they had very high standards. L is the greatest detective in the world, Near as his number one successor to is eventually able to defeat Light and is an extreme deductive genius.

If you want to play that game, you can't just use the orphans that happened to be in your orphanage to start with. You have to look for them and either a) wander around orphanages/newly orphaned children and test them for their suitability b) pick up orphans that they've heard of who have nationally/internationally been so impressive they meet the criteria.

Now the thing about b is that doesn't happen often (and probably not at the impressionable ages that Wammy's needs to both a) give the orphan the training b) convince a near adult "YOU SHOULD TOTALLY BECOME BATMAN WOULDN'T THAT BE SUPER COOL?!")

...

To sum this up, A is probably from Britain, maybe Ireland.

A Was Chosen: Age

Alright, A was selected, as gone in above from what we see of Mello, Near, and Matt, they got roped into this when they were very young. They're very young appearing AFTER the six-year time skip when they've been doing this long enough that a) this is their major goal in life and the only thing they can think of b) they have an intense and bitter rivalry c) Matt has already been weeded out. L, too, we have a brief image of him as a six-year-old or so (possibly metaphorical), implying he and Watari have been doing this for... a while, and that L was set on this path very early in life.

Both A and B were very likely young children when they started this program in earnest. Personally, if I had to write a fic... I'd say ten at most.

Now, this doesn't tell us much about when A dies, but we know that B is an adult man by LABB, Naomi never remarks upon him looking like a teenager. We also know he's able to impersonate L, and more (and this is important), the L we see in canon.

The entire L gimmick of the book is that we, the readers, are given the impression this is L (except for the weird eyes, that's weird). It's important that this isn't necessarily L at the time, but what we the readers would recognize him as years later during the Kira case. We, in canon, see L in his mid 20's. This means that B in the novel was at least passing as in his mid 20's. Could be he's younger, could be he's older, but what it does mean that A, if at a similar age only either reached a) very young adulthood b) teens.

Personally, given the pressure, the suicide, and the fact that the rivalry had been bitterly ongoing at that point, I'd say A was likely a mid/late teenager when they killed themselves.

A Was Chosen: Intelligence

A must have been good enough at whatever tests Wammy's did to gauge whether they had an initial aptitude for becoming an L candidate.

Now, we've seen the types of things Near is good at and that are heavily implied put him above Mello. Near is very good at intelligence tests, puzzles, and so on.

It's not unlikely that A was tested with very similar things and that A must have reached some threshold to be considered a promising candidate in the first place.

A Was Chosen: AMAB

Now, this one's more headcanon, but I go into this here. I think, either through overt or unintended bias, Watari/Roger would gravitate towards selecting AMAB individuals as opposed to AFAB.

I don't think A would be an exception.

Also, Viz translated the gender into English as "he", so take that as you will.

The Eternal Prince/Eternal Rivalry

Now, the trouble with A and B, being so early in, is that L was a very young man at the time and either not much older than they were or even younger.

L had already by this point reached international acclaim as the detective L, continued to gather for himself detective personas surrendered by rivals, and was showing no signs of stopping or slowing down.

So, how exactly are A and B supposed to become L? Either they somehow prove they're better than him, when he has the benefit of a) experience in the field b) connections with law enforcement and a working relationship with Watari c) all the resources in the world or L miraculously dies.

Not to mention we know, canonically, that L is vicious and would tolerate no competition for his title.

Mello notes this himself (though is a... biased... narrator) that the first gen were throwaways, they were the trial training run for the REAL successors, Mello and Near.

Regardless of what Mello thinks, the fact remains that A and B were both aware that to be L themselves, L had to go, which showed no signs of happening.

Not to mention they're still infighting with each other, quite viciously, so that they can at least be next in line.

Not only is this a tremendous amount of pressure, but it's utterly pointless pressure.

B was the type of person to react to this with a "FUCK YOU DAD", in that he tried to make a case L couldn't solve to finally prove he was superior to all of them.

A, for this or perhaps other reasons, killed themselves. We don't know if this was the sole reason, but it would certainly be a large factor.

TL;DR

A was likely born or at least orphaned in Britain, A was young when chosen and young when they died, A was likely good at logic puzzles/intelligence exams at a young age, A was highly likely to be AMAB, and was in a doomed competition where their entire self-worth/point of their existence hinged on a pointless struggle that neither they nor B could ever conceivably live.

But considering, that's really not much/what you were asking for.

[xiaonesis]

Soft Serve 13 // Flavor 1

Flavor 1: Rainbow Sherbet (Suna x Reader)

Tags: Romance, Fluff, Awkward Romance, Summer Romance, Growing & Learning, Miscommunication

A/N: I started writing this more than half a year ago and decided to pick it back up and finish it but I forgot where I was going with it. I initially wanted to write something more light and introspective, on the pains of growing up and the awkwardness and inability to communicate many of us have, as this fic is partly based off real life experiences, and thus it is a slightly personal fic to me as I reflected on my own past, experiences, and regrets, and hopefully, growth. Then, I had a breakdown and lost the plot lmao. Anyways, have this melting cone of chaos and idk's.

(This fic is cross-posted to my AO3)

Suna Rintarou doesn’t believe in love at first sight.

He thinks that people who fall head over heels for someone at first glance are fools. Love is something that is grown into, to be slowly nurtured with time and dedication. To his logic-based brain, the entire idea of smashing head first into love at a glance is ludicrous, like a bad car crash where you never see it coming until it's too late. And that doesn’t sound very pleasant, does it?

But you know what else they say about love at first sight?

That everyone becomes a believer when it happens to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suna first meets you in his hometown of Aichi in the summer of his fifteenth year.

He is there for summer break, helping out at his uncle’s ice-cream shop a stone’s throw away from the nearest beach. He didn’t want to be but his parents had insisted, claiming that it would be good for him to spend time with his grandmother and uncle. 

Had he been given the choice, he would be spending his break lazing at home playing video games instead of being dressed in this ridiculous pink and yellow striped ice-cream boy cap and uniform, scooping out cones of ‘Soft Serves With A Smile.’   He’d rather be slamming hard serves into the twins that made it onto the same volleyball team as him.

AC doesn’t even exist in the shop as a silver lining. There are only three fans on maximum power, twisting and churning air as they swivel. With the unbearable heat amplifying his discomfort, days at his seaside hometown pass slowly, thick and syrupy from dawn to dusk. 

It doesn’t feel like summer at all.

That all changed the day the shop bell chimed and you walked in.

“Welcome to Soft Serve 13–”

People often say that love at first sight is similar to a lightning strike, fast and purple hot. But there was no purple summer lightning electrifying him, no volcanic eruption setting his heart on fire for Suna. 

There is only a great void, white and silent, that descended upon his mind unforeseen; a tsunami that crashes down his frozen body, washing away all sensible thought and bodily functions before leaving him stranded on unknown, pristine shores.

For the next twenty seconds that stretches like a lifetime as he is caught in his first glance of you, Suna is suspended in that void. White sand in his ears, and his eyes sees nothing and everything simultaneously in an ivory world.

(It feels exactly like the moments before a car crash where life flashes by in a white blind)

Suddenly, his hand is freezing hot and Suna is dragged from that sandy void.

“Shit–”

Dulcet chocolate covers his hand, trickling from the melted cone he was supposed to hand to the perturbed, waiting customer in front of him. Uttering a quick string of apologies, Suna sets about serving a fresh cone whilst enduring your barrage of giggles as you wait next in line, his face hotter than summer itself.

The door chimes again, and he is left alone with you in this tiny, humid shop with fans blowing revoltingly loud and you’re still grinning teasingly – blinding – at him. He pulls his stupid pink and yellow cap down over his eyes.

“If mine melts, can I get a free scoop?”

‘No,’ his mind says but his mouth fires off a “Yes.”

He didn’t think it was possible for your smile to grow any wider. Windchimes jingle in the timbre of your pleased laughter, not expecting his answer. “Guess I’ll have to make sure to distract you long enough for it to melt,” you chirp, browsing the display with an impish smirk. 

Suna knows right away he wouldn’t mind getting ice-cream all over his hand again if it means you’ll stick around longer. 

By the Gods , was he always this much of a chump?

He’s not a casanova (that’s Atsumu’s shtick), but Suna never gets nervous around the opposite sex, and he likes to think he can pull in girls if he wants to. However, between school, games, and volleyball, there was no space for romance in his life yet Suna finds himself pulling and fanning at his collar as he tries to maintain eye contact with you. He’s strangely nervous and it shows in the way he continuously drums his fingers on glass.

Suna never talks to customers beyond what is necessary but he continuously finds ways and topics to keep you around. Usually, he works fast to have all his customers served so that he may return to his phone. Yet, thirty minutes has passed since you entered the store and you’re still standing without a cone in your hand and he’s leaning across the glass, handing you your thirteenth free taste. 

In that period, he’s found out that you’re visiting the area with your mother for two weeks, that you’re his age, and attend school in Tokyo. And he’s shared that he’s originally from Aichi but goes to school in Hyogo, is working here for the summer, and this is his uncle’s shop. Favorite music, recommended sights and places, food, hobbies, and a slew of other random tidbits about each other were also mutually exchanged in between.

(He wonders if he can entice you to stay with the other flavors available.)

Another ten minutes later and you finally settle on a flavor, but Suna knows by that curl in your lips that’s been there since twenty-five minutes ago that you already knew what you wanted the moment you stepped foot into the shop.

“I’ll have Rainbow Sherbet.”

He makes a face. “I’m judging you.”

“It’s a good flavor!”

“It’s sour–”

“And sweet.”

“–and leaves this tart, prickly taste in your mouth. It’s terrible.”

“No it isn’t! Here, try some!” You bring a small spoonful to him.

“No–” he swats your hand, “I know what Rainbow Sherbet tastes like. I work here.”

You press against the glass– he’s going to have to clean it of your grubby hand prints later – but he doesn’t mind it one bit when he sees you straining over the display in an attempt to reach him. Honestly, if his uncle saw him now, he’d get an earful for ‘messing and flirting’ with a customer but Suna is unable to stop himself from gravitating towards your hand and the spoon pinched precariously between your fingers.

“Just try it!” you insist.

Suna frowns at your persistence, adjusting his cap with one hand as if he’s about to tell you off. But he tips it up instead, so that he has a clear view of you when he grabs your wrist and leans in to close his mouth around your spoon. His cheeks hollow and Suna sucks the sweet ice with an obnoxious slurp that has him smirking around the spoon and you, gaping. 

Zesty lime and sour raspberry goes off like fireworks on the roof of his mouth before melting with a trail of fragrant pineapple on his tongue.

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to do that, thinking that he would at least take the spoon from you first. 

To be honest, Suna didn’t expect himself to do that either, especially not with the rapid pace of his heart. It’s worth it though, to see the obvious flush racing up your neck to fill your cheeks. It matches what is on his but he tells himself it’s the heat.

He releases the spoon with a pop but keeps his grip on your wrist. He can’t stop grinning but forces an impudent gag through the stretch of his cheeks.

“Yuck.”

He lets you go, fingers sliding soft on the back of your hand. 

The spoon is brandished at him. “You liked it. Don’t lie. I also demand a free scoop.”

“But it didn’t melt?”

You stick your hand out and sure enough, there’s a trail of sticky green and orange running down your arm.

“You took too long,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes. “Could have just eaten it normally.”

Another smug smirk. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The fans are deafening but its winds are cool on his hotter-than-ever skin and lovely in the billow of your dress. The bell chimes and a gaggle of children rush into the store alongside a woman that taps your shoulder with a call of your name. He guesses that’s your mother, wondering where her daughter’s been for almost an hour. 

He realizes then that neither of you introduced yourselves.

Your mother leaves and your eyes flicker to the tag pinned to a strip of pink right above his heart. “I will collect my free scoop tomorrow, Suna Rintarou.”

The promise of your return lingers in this tiny, breezy shop, and tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

It finally feels like Summer.

 (And he’s on his way to a car crash)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why here? There’s not much to do in Aichi in general, needless to say here.”

You shrug. “We just wanted some place a bit more slow, more relaxing, you know? My mum’s tired of the city and I don’t really mind. She’s paying for everything anyway.”

“Where would you choose to travel though?” He steals a spoonful of colorful ice-cream from your cup and you let him.

“Hmm, I don’t know for sure,” you muse. “Probably somewhere outside of Japan. I’ve always wanted to go abroad. What about you, if you’re not working here?”

He shrugs. “Nah, too much effort.”

“Can’t believe you got scouted for volleyball with that lazy-ass attitude.” You fling your crumpled tissue at him. 

Suna catches it and shoots it straight into the bin without moving from his seat. “Work smarter not harder.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Two weeks whirl by quicker than a sunshower.

Suna spends it chatting with you during your frequent visits (your hotel isn’t too far) to the store, hanging with you at the beach (the one a stone’s throw away), and texting with you till late night in the comfort of his bed.

Your mother definitely gave him a few looks during the times she came to the store with you. Her flavor of choice is caramel coffee and yours, rainbow sherbet. 

He gave her a free scoop once, and now she praises him, “You’re such a good kid,” every time before leaving. You’ll roll your eyes and he’ll give you a peace sign.

He stays in touch with you for the rest of summer break after you leave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When school restarts, the two of you are still in contact. You don’t use social media, but you’ll send him photos of your life in Tokyo and he’ll send you links to his posts and stories.

September wind blows and this gradually peters out in autumn as the Inarizaki High Volleyball Club shifts into full gear for Nationals in winter.

[Good luck preparing for Nationals! Maybe we can catch up in Tokyo when you’re here!]

He’s so tired from practice, he tells himself he will reply tomorrow. But Suna forgets, and he does reply, only two weeks later. Yours come in another week. Then his, the week after.

Eventually, rainbow sherbets and the girl he met over summer fades to the back of Suna’s mind, just as the last leaves of autumn sheds. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It momentarily crosses his mind to contact you again, two nights before Nationals.

In the rush of prepping for the games and packing for the trip to Tokyo, it slips his mind until he’s standing outside the stadium gates. But they lose to Karasuno, and the message is never sent as he is once again packing to leave.

He suddenly feels like eating rainbow sherbets, but it’s too cold for ice-cream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next time Suna sees you, it is once again in Aichi, in the summer of his sixteenth year. 

He didn’t plan on coming back here, but after their loss at Nationals and the rigorous training in the following months, Suna decided he needs a break away from Hyogo and the goons he calls his teammates.

He definitely did not expect to see you again.

The sight of you, fingers waving timidly from the sunlit entrance accompanied by bell-chimes, melts the cone in his hand. A fuzzy, sticky repeat of last year.

He’s in that void again, where everything else seems to vanish and there’s hot sand in his ears, between his toes, warm wind in his stomach running up his throat– déjà vu has never felt more full yet it’s different. It’s the same blank space, only less… empty. Less white. There’s color to the sand this year, and he can hear rustling in trees that weren’t there before, only it’s not the wind but fans.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I had fun here last year so,” you shrug, small and shy, head tucked into yourself. “I asked my mum if we could visit again.” A finger twirls a lock of hair.

Suna’s heart leaps as his mind races, jumping and wondering if it was fun because of him because he remembers how you brought Summer into his August. Even if he hasn’t tasted rainbow sherbets since he last saw you, and cannot remember what you talked about under the cover of night and cotton sheets.

In a close replay of last year, Suna feels rejuvenated with your presence in this tiny, warm shop. The fans are a godsend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wonders if he should apologize for not responding about Tokyo and his haphazard responses until that point. It’s probably weird to do that now.

You don’t mention it either so he figures it doesn’t matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I wondered if you would be here, but didn’t think that you actually would,” you say, licking at your rainbow sherbet. Typical.

“Me? I’m more surprised you’re here again. There’s nothing to do here.”

“That’s not true. My mum liked it. She likes that it’s close to the ocean but she can still hop on a train and go shopping.” 

Suna side-eyes you with doubt but finds you facing him with a grin. His body naturally turns towards you.

“Besides, you’re here too!” you giggle, meaning nothing more than a joke easily said between friends. His chest thrums all the same and white shores seep into his vision. 

Suna flicks your forehead in response.

“Hey–”

“Gimmie a bite.”

“I thought you hated rainbow sherbet!” you protest, but bring your cone up anyways.

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” 

He grabs your wrist as if to steady the cone and prevent any attempt to smash the entire thing into his face. The way he looks at you, steady and unwavering, from underneath the hood of his uniform cap is telling you something else. 

Cracks dance up the cone from where your fingers press tightly into the biscuit, raining crumbs onto the space between your bodies. Suna pulls back and you take a large bite opposite of where he sunk his teeth into yellow.

“Yep, it still sucks.”

His face scrunches and you punch his arm. At least he didn’t gag this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Suna keeps in touch with you regularly through the year, until the following summer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On his seventeenth summer, Suna plans to go back to Aichi again. This time, he knows you will be there because the two of you planned it.

Now that you’re older, your mum is allowing you to travel on your own; she also trusts the ‘good kid’ to take care of her daughter, to your chagrin.

The Miya twins are constantly bothering Suna this year, wondering why he keeps going back to Aichi when all he’s done is complain about how boring it was in previous years– which it is, besides you. They’ve heard about you before though, the girl he met in the summer of two years ago.

“Ya’ know, she must really like ya’ if she’s goin’ all the way there again to visit ya,’” Atsumu comments, chomping on yakisoba bread. Osamu makes a garbled sound of agreement through his food.

“We’re just friends,” Suna says, face straight, but he wonders if you know how the world vanishes into nothing when he’s with you. He feels anxious merely thinking about it. 

“Sure, friends,” Atsumu waggles his brows and Osamu nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This year, his uncle invites you to join them for dinner at his grandmother’s home.

He’s spotted you a few times over the years, and gives Suna much grief about the girl his nephew's constantly loitering around with outside of work, and during work. He often says with a wink, “I’m paying you to work, not to flirt!” 

Suna never says anything in response, only squints his eyes and shakes his head at the older man that acts younger than Suna himself; he knows he does the work expected of him even if he may slack here and there.

Dinner with his uncle, grandmother, and a cousin that decided to join them last minute is a simple yet loud affair. 

Suna’s uncle is rowdy with a positive outlook on all things in life; says he chose to open an ice-cream shop because ice-cream makes everybody smile. His grandmother is along in years, silver crowning her demure frame and lovely smile. She absolutely adores you. 

“I’ve never seen Rinrin bring a friend, much less a friend, around. You are his girlfriend, yes?”

Suna’s never had miso up his nostrils before but there we go. A first time for everything.

“Grandma–” he groans but says nothing more; doesn’t attempt to deny it, only glance at you snickering next to him. He notes with a little shake of his leg that you didn’t either.

(He’s overthinking, he’s assuming, he definitely is–)

It’s late when you finally leave, and Suna volunteers to walk you back to your lodge before his uncle can offer to drive you. He can feel their grins burning into his back as he puts on his shoes after you, and throws them an exasperated glare before the door closes.

“Your family is really nice.”

He rubs the space between his brows. “I’m glad they live here and not in Hyogo. They’re too much.”

“What are your parents like?”

“Like that . My mum had to get it from somewhere. My father’s quieter.”

You laugh and conversation flows easy as it always does when he’s with you. He doesn’t have to think about anything in particular; colors naturally flow to color the void without his intention. It’s all peaceful, the world vanishing and leaving a blank canvas that’s meant for you to cover with pale cream footprints, and greens, pinks, and oranges. 

Night zephyrs slap a leaf onto your face and you throw it at Suna. A splotch of green spreads on the canvas. 

You’ve long since walked by your lodge and Suna follows without question, trailing gravel crunching beneath your shoes and the ocean breeze in your hair. The stars are out in full force tonight but the brightest star is next to him, voice shimmering with August life.

His Summer.

The ocean, pulsating in deep indigo, stretches beyond  concrete barriers erected on the road side. 

Suna watches when you ignore the barrier’s sole purpose and climb onto it, inviting him to join you with the beckoning of your hand and a pat to the empty space next to you; a space he gladly fills.

“You don’t see stars like this in Tokyo,” you whisper, afraid of shattering the quiet seaside.

Suna takes his phone out, wiping at the black of his screen. You tilt your head, asking doubtfully if he can even snap a photo of the stars with that, but it changes to pleasant surprise when he flips the camera and shifts closer to you.

The dim light from a nearby lamp is barely enough to illuminate your features but if he squints and zooms in, barely – just barely –, you can make out the ridge of his nose below glinting chartreuse through prismatic noise. And Suna can somewhat trace your teeth glowing baby blue and the push of your cheeks. 

“It’s so shit,” you guffaw, snatching his phone to zoom around your unrecognizable faces.

“It’s natural lighting. None of those disgusting filters you kids like to use.”

“We’re literally the same age!”

His phone is returned, and Suna’s fingers tap on the back of his case as he deliberates, jittery under the universe and you, wholly unaware of his nerves. 

In another 3 hours, the sun will rise and when you finally stand, he finds the courage to blurt the words that have been spooling in his head since midnight.

(He wishes for a longer Summer with you)

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

All the nervousness that hounded Suna when he invited you to the local fireworks festival a few nights ago? It’s all gone the moment he sees you in your yukata, the folding fan his grandmother lent you slipped neatly into your obi.

Never mind that you packed one for your trip. “Swimsuits are not the only essentials for a summer vacay~”

So you say. Suna isn’t complaining.

Festivals have never been his thing; it’s hot, humid, crowded– moist . Yet, he looked forward to this one with you. He’s never been to this festival until now, walking next to you with a cooler in his hand.

“What’s in there?” you peek curiously at the box, reaching for the clasp. 

Suna lifts the box up high where your grubby hands are unable to grab them. 

“Later.”

You pout; long fingers poke your cheeks but later comes sooner than you expected. Sitting on a green picnic sheet that has seen better days, Suna opens the box. A pint of rainbow sherbet beams from a bed of ice, to your great pleasure. 

“I thought you hated rainbow sherbet!” you exclaim, heartily accepting the spoon he hands you.

Suna shrugs, struggling to keep his expression even at your simple joy. “It’s alright,” he says coolly, popping the lid off and letting you take the first scoop.

A triple-colored wave curls against your spoon just as the first boom goes off, splashing starlit skies with fiery flowers of red, green, and gold. 

The plain skies above white shores he shares with you, too, are filled with bursts of rainbows.

(Perhaps it isn’t purple lightning. Instead, it is a pint of ice-cream between your bodies. Love at first sight is a trifecta of colors, exploding)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” 

Your jaw drops, not expecting that question from Suna Rintarou. Nonetheless, you pause, and Suna can see the gears churning in your head. He doesn’t know why, but he appreciates that; a certain pair of twins wouldn’t have given him the same courtesy.

When you finally answer, Suna leans in. “It’s hard to say for sure but I probably do.”

“Probably?” 

“I mean, I don’t know if it is love at first sight, but maybe more like wanting to know a person more. Way more than other people, right away.”

Your answer, though not bad, makes Suna a tad nervous. 

“It’s like discovering a new place, you know?” You nod to the world outside the shop window, sweltering in the unforgiving sun. “I didn’t think I would love this place the first time I came here. Now I’m here for the third year in a row!” 

“With this shop or my hometown?” Suna wears a teasing smirk but it feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You smile furtively and Suna never gets an answer. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He very much does.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

On your last night in Aichi before you take Summer away with you, Suna unlocks the door to his uncle’s ice-cream shop. He has received express permission to “help yourselves” to a buffet of ice-cream as your farewell gift (until next year).

He’s never eaten so much ice-cream in one sitting before in his life, and likely, neither have you judging by the way you’re massaging your stomach. His own hurts, and the sugar running in his blood makes him want to grab your hand and run out onto the beach.

You groan, poking at the remains of your rainbow sherbet. “Rin~ help me finish this!”

His tongue juts out. “Ew, rainbow sherbet. No thanks.”

“Please! I’m struggling,” you bemoan, listlessly swallowing another spoonful.

Torn between sighing and chuckling at your torment, Suna moves his chair next to yours. His acquiescence revitalizes you, and you immediately bring your spoon up to feed him in a familiar repeat of the first time you met him.

And just like the first time, Suna wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling the spoon– you– closer as he leans in. His palms burn like the mid-August sky over your midsummer skin.

His lips part.

Lime and raspberry. The sour taste makes him squint. 

His expression makes you grin, causing the little stripe of green lime on the corner of your mouth to stretch. 

It’s that damn stripe’s fault.

It compelled Suna, pulling him beyond the spoon falling loose in your hand to touch his lips on that stripe of green.

A soft taste of lime. Sour. It makes him squeeze his eyes shut, or so he tells himself. 

It’s not the hard beating of his heart, the panic that lances him when he realizes what he has done, the fear of seeing your reaction and feeling your mouth tremble against his.

Surprise and nerves, he likes to think, and tells himself.

Suna keeps his eyes squeezed closed, the layer of sweat between where his hand meets your skin palpable as the damning taste of lime on both your lips.

Hours seemed to come and went in the seconds he allowed his hormones and stupid, summery feelings get the better of him and you only sat there, still and silent. Suna still has his eyes sewed shut, and can’t see your expression. He can’t see jack shit and the only thing telling him that you’re still there is the unbroken touch of your lips against his and your shaky, warm breaths.

It was only seconds but it felt like an eternity to Suna, before you finally moved and saved him from his spiraling mind and the awkwardness that was creeping upon him.

It’s tentative, unsure, and Suna wasn’t sure if he imagined it at first but there’s no mistaking the light press back and gods, Suna would have heaved in relief if he wasn’t still connected to you by the mouth, featherlight it may be.

At seventeen, you and Suna shared your first kisses with each other. It was awkward, weird, sticky and tasted like lime. Short. But sweet.

 Perhaps rainbow sherbet isn’t as bad as he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He’s not sure why but in the weeks, then months, following that kiss– unaddressed, unspoken of henceforth– the two of you don’t speak as much anymore. The messages petered out like the end of a summer shower, muggy and uncomfortable, and clings to him long after summer and rain have gone.

The last exchange had been amiable.

‘Good night.’

Yet, it was excruciatingly hard picking it up again as the days slipped by.

The last of autumn’s leaves fall and Suna wonders if it would be strange suddenly messaging you out of the blue. He stares long at the ‘seen’ and timestamp from hotter days.

Gods, he’s seventeen and thinks it’d definitely be lame to do so. Besides, if you wanted to talk to him, you could always message him first too.

And you haven’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You too, stare at the ‘seen’ and timestamp recollecting balmy days. With cheeks pressed deep into your arms and blankets wrapped tight all around against the encroaching winter, wondering what it’d feel like if it were the arms of a certain ice-cream shop boy instead.

But you’re seventeen and the future is scary and uncertain.

The letter confirming your acceptance to your chosen study abroad program peeks tauntingly at you from underneath stacks of books.

You were happy– still are– when you received the news back in July. You had planned to share that joy with Suna when you met him in Aichi in the summer. Yet, something held you back, kept the words from being spilled even as ice-cream melted and foolish secrets were shared under starry skies and blanket of waves.

You were resolved to tell him and had been prepared to do so on your last night in Aichi–

Then he kissed you. And you kissed back, with surprise and an elated heart.

And you didn’t say anything after that.

Stupid.

It’s all so silly. This crushing in your chest– you want to stay, to visit Aichi and see Suna again. You want to go, pursue your dreams and studies abroad as you have always planned before him and his damn pink-yellow cap ever appeared in your life.

You want more summer days with Suna, and autumn, winter, and spring! You want all the seasons with him, to explore this undeniable attraction but–

‘Good night.’

It’s been weeks since either of you said anything. They always say that if a guy truly likes you, he would reach out no matter what.

And he hasn’t.

You’re going abroad. You already know that, deep in your mind, despite what your young heart longs for.

You’re seventeen and decided that it would be illogical to pursue anything with the ice-cream boy, with the most brilliant, unforgettable set of eyes you met over summers.

And just like that, it was as if neither of you were ever in each other’s lives.

Like fireworks, the two of you splashed and burned brief, shared months and dispersed in wisps of smoke to the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

On his eighteenth summer, Suna returns to Aichi again to work at his uncle’s shop.

He has since moved to Tokyo to pursue his own ambitions, but something he wishes to not name pulls him back to his uncle’s shop, like it had every year, for the past three years. 

His eyes constantly dart to look at every shadow that passes by the windows, and his head zooms up with every ding of the bell. The days pass slowly, more excruciating than usual, thick and syrupy from dawn to dusk.

You never showed up.

(It doesn’t feel like summer at all)

The bell chimes for what would be the final time for Suna. As the last customer of the summer and the rest of his life ponders what flavor they will have, Suna impetuously stabs the tasting spoon he had been holding into the swirly tub of green, orange, and pink– and takes a bite.

Yuck. Rainbow sherbet isn’t as good as he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are eighteen and abroad, young and excited.

Yet everytime you come across an ice-cream shop, hear waves and feel the sand between your toes, see the occasional, miraculous starry sky–

From halfway across the world, you are reminded of brilliant yellow eyes and a boy in pink and yellow stripes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

On your nineteenth summer, you return to Aichi.

With a thudding heart and hopes and young daydreams of what could be. 

Will it be awkward? What shall you say first? Something witty or nostalgic? What will he say when he sees you? Will he be happy to see you?

The bell chimed and none of those mattered when it wasn’t Suna at the counter but his uncle instead. 

“Didn’t he tell you? He isn’t returning to Aichi this year.”

“Oh.” Your throat is closing up. “I wanted to surprise him so I didn’t ask him in case it tipped him off–” You rub your neck to alleviate the embarrassment burning hot there and blink multiple times, forcing away the rising pressure in your eyes.

“You silly kids!” Suna’s uncle laughs. “He was here last year but you weren’t! And now you are! Wait till I tell him–”

“Please don’t tell him! He might feel bad if you did, and it was entirely my fault for not checking with him.” In truth, you called but the line didn’t go through. His number has changed. 

“You sure? Knowing Rintarou he’d just scratch his bum about it–”

You giggle despite your falling heart. “I’m sure. Perhaps next year.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You return to Aichi again on your twentieth summer. And your twenty-first.

Unlike previously, it was less for the specific purpose of seeing him and more to visit a place, and its inhabitants, that has grown close to you.

But the hope that he would be there never truly died, and each time you entered the ice-cream shop with a full heart close to combusting, that does, inadvertently burst.

For Suna never visited Aichi again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It’s been four years since Suna last visited his hometown. He is now twenty-two.

In his defense, he presently plays for EJP Raijins and has been incredibly busy with his career; the last few years have been tough: training, press, tournaments, and everything else that comes with becoming an upcoming pro athlete. 

His family understands that. Still, it has been a while since he saw his grandmother and uncle; his parents visit him in Tokyo every year. So he’s invited them all to his game this year, fully paid for by him.

Only, in place of his grandmother, he saw you instead when he went to greet them in the hall before the game. There you were, shuffling nervously next to his uncle, looking as if you haven’t changed at all in the last four years, even if you have grown up. The both of you have.

Suna felt it again, the same feeling he had when he saw you all those years ago. It’s faint, dimmer than when it first manifested in his fifteen year old self; a white void, great and silent, cascading onto him. But it’s the same one, he’s sure of it. Because he’s never felt it with anyone else he’s met, and he’s met a lot of people in recent years.

Suna doesn’t know why; it’s illogical, but he supposes that everything concerning this feeling is, though he is reluctant to name it. He’s always thought that, long before it happened to him. 

Long before he met you.

“Hi,” you say shyly.

It feels like he freshly emerged from an overtime match when he breathes out, “Hey.”

These two words are all that is said between you before he is marching off to the locker rooms with an empty head– white shores– ‘Hi’s and ‘Hey’s etched in the sand. Suna wants to ram his head onto the lockers for reasons he cannot comprehend. 

Seeing you again after all these years…he is transported back to his uncle’s shop, wearing that stupid pink and yellow striped uniform with chocolate dripping down his hand. The EJP Raijins jersey he’s quietly proud of melts away in the face of you, an occurrence he never fathomed.

The void stays when the whistle blows, but he isn’t distracted. On the contrary, the thought of you in the crowd, watching him, sustains the quiet shores inside of his mind and heart; its peace drowns out the cheers.

And Suna played the best he has ever played since he joined the team.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Rintarou, stop being dumb. I thought you’re smarter than this.”

“Uncle, what are you talking about–”’

“You know what I’m talking about! Watching you two during dinner was embarrassing! You barely spoke! Your grandfather’s rolling in his grave!” 

“...no one asked you to look,” Suna counters weakly. “And leave grandpa out of this. Have some decency.”

His uncle rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes before carding them through his graying hair.

“I’ve watched you dance around each other since you were fifteen! Especially you, Suna!” he complains then repeats, “Fifteen! I didn’t let you have an ice-cream buffet for it to turn out like this!”

“We weren’t doing anything–”

“Rintarou.” 

The serious tone his uncle took on made stops Suna mid-sentence. “She visited Aichi the last three years that you haven’t. She says it’s not to see you but she always asks how you’ve been doing.”

The information stuns Suna. You went back to Aichi? Why didn’t you say anything– oh. He changed his number. Well, why didn’t his uncle say anything?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he inquires.

“She told me not to tell you, says she didn’t want to bother you and that ‘it’s weird.’ You kids and your social taboos. Still, I promised and I don’t break my promises.” He jabs Suna on the chest and adds, “You better not too!”

“It’s why I don’t make promises,” Suna mumbles and swats his uncle’s hand away. “Anyways, there’s nothing to say–”

His uncle lets out a loud, garbled cry of random sounds. “Your grandmother didn’t give her tickets away for you to chicken out! Your parents raised you better than this!”

“I can’t believe even grandma is in on this…”

Strong hands clasp him on the shoulders and Suna is forced to look his uncle in the eye.

“Go and talk to her. Properly. Like an adult.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

knock knock

  ‘Talk to her or I’ll tell grandma about the things you post on your Instagruel, Instrument– whatever it’s called!’

  Suna sighs as he wonders why he never saw his uncle as the extortionist that he is. The man quite literally made him promise, with linked pinkies and all, to go talk to you before the night is over. 

Suna doesn’t make promises but he keeps those that he does.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you. But what is there to say? Things weren’t exactly… clear , the last you and him spoke and saw each other, for that matter. He kissed you, you kissed back, and then poof. In modern dating terms, it’s safe to say that you mutually ghosted each other out of sheer– he doesn’t know what on your end– but definitely young stupidity on his.

“Rin? It’s getting late, what are you doing here?” You blink at him, surprise plain on your face at the unexpected guest.

Suna almost smiles at the nickname. It’s been a while since he heard you address him by that. At all, really. 

He takes in your appearance, notes your fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt and the drumming of the other on the doorknob. Have you been as restless as he was this entire evening?

“I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk with me?” Suna winces at his unnatural politeness. It’s you; he’s never this polite with you, not even when you were a customer. It’s bizarre.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance, unconscious, in the way you took a small step back before you’re nodding and asking him to wait whilst you went back inside your hotel room to change.

The winter air is crisp, wind tunneling between the buildings whipping at your figures as Suna leads you around aimlessly. Truth be told, he had no idea where to go or what to say. 

“How have you been?” You break the ice. 

Right, that’s a good place to start. 

“I’ve been good. You?”

“I’ve been good too.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.”

Suna wishes a truck will run off the curb and hit him now. His fingers are freezing off in his pockets and somehow they’re still sweating. 

This is absolutely terrible.

A ray of hope cuts the grey path ahead, and Suna manages to peel his eyes away from his shoes to gaze upon his salvation–

Oh. It’s an ice-cream shop. 

The irony isn’t lost on him. You don’t miss it either, for you peek up at him shyly, scratching at your cold cheeks, and ask, “Do you want to get any? For old time’s sake.”

When he nods, you turn and lead the way, grabbing the handle and missing how Suna stops following you just shy of the shop’s awning. He prefers to quickly rip the bandaid off.

“What happened?” 

“Huh?” You look over your shoulder, confused. “What do you mean?”

Suna buries his face into his scarf as if to hide the burning ridge of his nose. “That night… you kissed back,” he mumbles. He has to force himself to look back at you, to discern and verify the rapid changes in your expression as you look for an answer. 

Surprise, self-consciousness, bashfulness, nervousness, nostalgia–

“I–,” you clear your throat, the shop light shining like a beacon on your blushing skin, “I did.”

“Why did you kiss me back?” he addresses the giant, tri-colored elephant that has been slumbering in the back of his mind for years.

You sputter. “Why are you asking this all of a sudden? It was so long ago.”

“Tell me.” Suna persists, taking a step forward with narrowed eyes, pushing for a reason, an excuse, to justify the cloudy feelings he has been harboring for all these years and now jostled up by your unannounced appearance in his life again. 

He’s not mad, he doesn’t not want you here, but the lack of closure for his young feelings, your reaction, and the lack of events that followed all those years ago isn’t pleasant. It leaves a muddy clog in his chest and quite frankly, he dislikes it. There was so much left unsaid and unexplained; perhaps he should have let it go and Suna thought he did. Until he saw you again.

And Suna knows, he just knows, that you feel the same way as he did.

Why else would you come see him play? Why else would you go back to Aichi the last couple of years?

Why did you two simply drift apart?

He’s so close to you now that he can see the perspiration beading on you, feel your warmth radiating and seeping into the folds of his clothes. You refuse to meet his eyes, looking here and there and everywhere but him right before you. Similarly, his heart is beating so loud that he’s sure you can hear it.

“Tell me.”

“Because I liked you! Okay?!” You finally cave, admitting with eyes squeezed tight. It reminds Suna of how he too kept his eyes closed as if his life depended on it when he first kissed you.

“Then why didn’t you say anything!? Why did you stop responding?”

“Don’t try and pin it on me. You didn’t contact me any further!”

“Neither did you!”

“Well, you changed your number and didn’t tell me!”

“That’s because I thought we’re no longer speaking with each other!”

You’re both breathing fast, hearts and emotions rising, and Suna glimpses the shop staff staring in concern through the glass. He deflates with a sigh and steps back before the staff misunderstands the situation and calls the police.

The streets of Tokyo are rarely silent yet somehow, this little area in the big city is exactly that. There’s only the sound of distant cars humming like waves on distant shores, and the muted chatter of people buzzing like summer cicadas; it reminds Suna of the times he went on late night walks with you along the beaches of his hometown.

You slap your hands over your face. “Oh my god…”

He snorts and laughs in turn at the incredulous conversation that took place. It doesn’t take long for you to peek through your fingers and join as well, chortling in disbelief.

“We were fucking dumb ,” he states.

“In our defense, we were young.” 

“Still dumb.”

“Yeah, we were.”

An embarrassing silence follows as you stare at each other. Sunca can see the gears in your head churning, processing the revelation that the two of you had been, well, dumbasses for years. He can empathize, for his brain hurtles through the same process.

You break eye contact and look down at your shoes, scuffing them against concrete. “I guess there’s also another reason why I was hesitant to contact you after,” you begin mumbling, and Suna reflexively curls his hands into fists within the confines of his pockets.

“Yeah? Besides being a teenager incapable of communication?”

“It’s a better reason than that!” you pout furiously, head sinking into your scarf. “I was going abroad. I have been abroad, the last few years. College.

Suna whistles, sincerely impressed. “Nice. Where at?”

“Irrelevant. I’ll tell you later,” you brush off his question to continue your explanation– reasoning– to why you stopped contacting him. 

Suna watches intently as you take a deep breath, idly noting how the ice-cream store staff are still staring at your figures with too much curiosity and intensity, the shop door failing to completely mute his conversation with you, bits and pieces filtering through the little vents at its foot. 

One male staff even holds a cone in his hand, watching the scene unfold as if this were a movie. The man takes a long lick, eyes all the while glued on your figures.

“That night when you– we, well, you know–” you stumble over your words and Suna finds not much has changed; you were still as bad at communicating your feelings as you were at seventeen. You clear your throat of the clogging shyness, “At that time I already knew I was leaving Japan as soon as I graduated. I planned to tell you but then you–”

“I kissed you,” he supplies plainly.

“Yes. And, well, there didn’t seem to be a good moment to tell you after that,” you finish softly. Regret isn’t the right word to describe your feelings in this moment, reflecting back on that summer night and the next four years without closure. You do not regret ever following your aspirations abroad, especially not over a boy in your youth. You weren’t that dumb. However, you admit that you could have handled it better, communicated it, talked with him– “I should have handled it better.” 

“Yeah, you should have.”

A disbelieving gasp leaves you, head whipping up angrily to tell Suna off but the teasing grin that greets you has your anger easily deflating. 

Suna understands. He really does, because he would have done the same thing in your position. Had he known you were going to leave the country, would he still have kissed you? Probably, only because his body moved on its own that night. Though it doesn't mean he forgot the flutters, the want, whenever he was with you back then. It’s not too far off from what he’s feeling in the present; it’s dimmer, but it has grown, matured with him in age. He’s no longer as jittery and blinded by white shores.

He’s grown. You’ve grown.

“I should have done better too.”

A cloak that has long rested on the depths of his heart– of gray clouds and why’s, unnamed yet felt, ignored but not forgotten, existing as surely as he does breathes– lifts the moment he utters these words. He feels revivified– released, of this midsummer memory that has crawled into his mind countless times in the minutes before sleep takes him (his brain has a penchant of replaying it for him unbidden at 2am). Suna shudders to think that had his family not invited you to his match, he and you would have continued on with your lives carrying overcast hearts caused by something as silly as simply being teenagers still learning and growing.

Judging by the smile dimpling your cheeks, Suna knew you felt the same.

He nods at the shop door behind you. “We should probably go inside. That is…if you still want to?”

Your answer comes in a shy smile burrowing into clothes and a blast of hot air that his chilled body welcomes. The shop bell chimes and you are both transported to past summers and the first time you met in a wave of nostalgia. 

Suna hasn’t gone to an ice-cream shop since the last time he worked for his uncle, having subconsciously avoided them in the shadow of his volleyball career as an excuse; your love for ice-cream shops developed because of many days spent at one with a special boy, and many more visited over the years in reminiscence and perhaps regret.

“There’s a buy one free one scoop deal for couples.” The male staff, the audacious one from before, announces when you reach the counter.

“Oh, we’re not–” you begin but Suna nudges you sneakily.

“Pick whatever flavor you want, honey. My treat.”

You had been his first love at first sight. And likely, you are the last.

Because Suna thinks that people who fall head over heels for someone at first glance are fools. Love is something that is grown into, to be slowly nurtured with time and dedication. To his logic-based brain, the entire idea of smashing head first into love at a glance is ludicrous, like a bad car crash where you never see it coming until it's too late. 

He knows because he’s experienced it. Both the unexplainable, ridiculous butterflies sprouting into existence the moment you stepped through the door and into his life, and the subsequent 7 years it took to nurture it.

There was no car crash however, only teen folly and human imperfection.

You glance up at him with a cheeky grin as you answer, sing-song and all-knowing.

“I’ll have a rainbow sherbet.”

“Yuck.”

“It’s a good flavor!!”

An expression you’re not sure you have ever seen Suna make before lights his face for but a transient second. It’s one of those laughter-smiles, all teeth with wide lips and wrinkles accompanied by tuneful joy. Suna knows it too because the muscles pulling at his cheeks are unfamiliar, straining wider than he usually lets them in his side smirks. 

“In that case, two rainbow sherbets please,” he tells the staff. He can feel your gaze pressing onto the side of his face with a question unspoken, and this is when Suna brings out his infamous smirk. 

He takes both cones and turns to you with green, pink, and orange in the palms of his hands. A trifecta of colors.

They say that everyone becomes a believer of love at first sight when it happens to them. Well, Suna rightly doesn’t know.

All he knows is that, instead of purple lightning striking, there was only a void filled with empty white shores whenever he saw you; it didn’t matter how many times or how long in between. All Suna knows is that the world fades away in the presence of you.

As he hands you your cone, Suna sees colors dyeing the white shores below his feet once more.

And Suna knows he will do it right this time.

[exauhstedsunflower]

I dont even have real thoughts. Just,

When I was 10/11 and forced myself to move on from playing with my Barbie’s because I was exposed to society and growing up and it seemed like something I had to do. Going back for my dolls one day after months deciding I needed to do something I loved only to find out my mom threw them away because I stopped playing with them. Being devastated. This reinforcing that there is something wrong with me because I shouldn’t want to play with dolls anymore anyway. The barbie movie not quite healing that wound but softening the blow when I think about it now.

Getting my nails done in hot pink every time at 12 and then at 13 getting them in blue. Painting my nails pink two weeks ago because I was excited about the barbie move and feeling at peace.

Seeing my best friend since I was 9 in pink for the first time in I cant even remember and us both feeling nostalgic and free and beautiful.

Me being 14 and my brother being 11 and him discovering the patriarchy. Him making sexist jokes. Me screaming at him. My grandmother laughing at us fighting. Me crying about it to this day, even though I’m 22my brother is now 19 and nothing like that anymore. Me seeing myself in Barbie and my brother in ken as they grow apart and then back together. Realizing that even though Ken hurt Barbie, barbie is the one to tell him its ok in the end. Ken not apologizing. Seeing us in them once again and feeling an ache in my chest.

Wanting to watch the scene where Barbie says she doesn’t feel pretty anymore and why she doesn’t feel pretty. Why she doesn’t feel like who she is supposed to be. Her face. My face as I start crying. My heart breaking as I realize that I have felt that, and that if its being portrayed here that it’s a universal experience to have that breakdown, to have a friend say ‘you are beautiful, you are enough. You’re not wrong, the world is.’, to not believe them fully, though you do accept that they’re probably right. The fact that she’s not wearing makeup in that scene. She’s broken down into her barest form, and her barest form is wrecked because the world has fucked her up and made her think she’s not enough.

Barbie panicking as Mattel tries to literally put her in a box. The people that are technically responsible for her, the people who she believes will help her, are not only not who she thought they would be, but they try to put her back in a box. Her not being able to be put back into a box. She knows too much now. She’s seen and felt and thought too much. She can’t be what they want her to be even when they try to force her. Impossible standards not even ending with people you’re meant to trust. Barbie being alone in that moment. Barbie finding a friend who gets it and not being alone anymore. Barbie not realizing that until the friend refuses to let her drown. The friendships that women make under the pressure of the world being something so beautiful and heartbreaking and necessary.

Sasha being exposed to something good and nice in pink for once instead of something hating on whatever the pink thing is and slowly smiling more, becoming herself. How this exposure can help young girls so much. Before this not only hurting herself by distancing herself from her mom and feminism but also hurting other women in the face of the pain society has slowly caused her because she has given up on herself and on society the way society has given up on her and itself.

in the end, Barbie not even advocating for herself even after everything she’s learned about feminism and what the world with do to women who let it swallow them whole. Sasha, who previously was not much of a girls girl, being the one to say “What about Barbie?” Everyone saying “Yeah, actually, what about Barbie?” Because she deserves a happy ending too. Barbie was standing in the back and out of the way not only in this scene but in most of the ending scenes actually, which is a wonderful portrayal of what all of these things that have happened to Barbie can do to a woman, regardless of how strong or empowered she was or may have seemed. Barbie, the main character of the movie, becoming quiet and contemplative and unsure, and relegating herself to the background because of all of this. Barbie being surprised to see people wanting something good for her. Barbie not knowing what she wants. Barbie absolutely knowing what she wants the whole movie but dancing around it because as a woman you are put in a box and you’re not supposed to say what you want. Even as a barbie. (“I have never wanted anything to change!” “I only ever wanted things to stay the same!” “I don’t know what I want anymore.”) but “It takes two to open a portal.” And so many more sly comments about how Barbie caused all this too. Barbie not even being proud of her accomplishments by the ending when they’re in the void. Ruth only figuring out What Barbie wants because of a comment, a self effacing comment. Barbie asking permission to be herself. She’s been affected negatively by the world, and yet is choosing to live in it anyway. As are the women of the world. Barbie didn’t need permission. But she asked anyway, she probably wouldn’t have done it is Ruth said no. If anyone had protested at all. Because as a woman she is self sacrificing and making sure everyone is ok with things before doing it. Ruth not showing Barbie life as a woman in the end, because Barbie already knows what that’s like. She’s not asking to be a woman, she is a woman, she’s asking to be human, for which life is nuanced and beautiful. As is being a woman, though in very different ways.

[corviiids]

For the ask game: 1 and 13. Have a good day sir Achilles 🫡

thank you my friend 🫡 this is long. im putting it under the cut. for the record i have chosen achilles and patroclus.

the character everyone gets wrong

i could for real pick any character for this so im glad i've gotten this a few times. let's start with achilles though given the spirit of the ask and how deeply mad it makes me that people get him wrong so often, in so many ways, with such total confidence. the biggest and worst way is when people think he's bloodthirsty or cruel by nature, or when people think that because he acts with such callousness that proves he's a simplistic killing machine or lacks human emotions. to be clear this isn't a speech in defence - this is not about me saying he's a "good person", it's just that that's not the heart of why he's so violent and the distinction is important to me because it informs basically everything he does.

achilles is 1) is a hyper-competent fighter 2) feels emotions in a big way and 3) tends to externalise his sadness grief guilt etc as anger and then violence because it's easier to feel and to experience than all the other stuff. that, and the one time we really see him fight in the iliad is when he's going on a crazed rampage where he IS bloodthirsty and destructive. so it's really easy to look at that and conclude that he has no feelings or just really likes killing, because we don't see anything else. the rest of his character is implied rather than shown and it's really easy to miss. but for me the heart of why the iliad is so heartbreaking for achilles is that the rampage shows the breakdown of achilles' character, not the core of it. it's exactly so tragic because that's actually not who he is. it's not that he isn't violent or hasn't killed or that he has reservations about taking lives, but you can see in earlier events that something is different. for example we are told that achilles when he defeats enemy soldiers is actually perfectly happy to spare and ransom them rather than killing them, which tells me he doesn't fight to kill, he fights to win. that's not hugely different in terms of the outcome, given it is in a war context where defeat and death tend to mean the same thing, but it IS different from a personality and character perspective, because it tells us achilles is at worst indifferent to human life rather than actually being driven by a desire to take it. better? worse? doesn't matter, not my point - just different. and, actually pretty unique amongst all the soldiers we hear about. that makes achilles one of the less bloodthirsty soldiers in the iliad, even if he has one of the highest body counts of the army. diomedes, for example, and even arguably patroclus, are shown with more active bloodlust than achilles.

but that changes in the rampage. it's very explicit in the case of lycaon (one of priam's millions of sons) because achilles meets him in the rampage and we're told that achilles has actually captured him once before and chose then to ransom him. lycaon supplicates him again this time and begs for his life once more. achilles then tells him that before patroclus died, he preferred to spare trojan lives and ransom them, but now that patroclus is dead, things are different. then he kills lycaon. so here we see the change. achilles used to fight to win, because he had no active desire to destroy or cause pain, he just didn't care if that happened on the way to achieving glory. he was driven by victory, pride, vanity, even the fun of fighting. but now patroclus is gone, so he's driven by guilt and grief. he fights to kill. he doesn't do that out of heartlessness or callousness - he does it out of pain. what i'm saying is that when he's out there taking lives, it's not because he has no feelings, it's because he feels too much. hence, the breakdown of his character: the rampage is achilles at his absolute lowest moment lashing out in the only way he can figure out how to do, and it proves that whatever achilles is, he's not a simple killing machine.

just pausing my diatribe to add that there's a lot more to this! the violence thing is just one example. people sometimes see him as cold and unfeeling or simplistic because of the way he reacted to agamemnon and briseis, the fact that he is willing to turn on his own people, the fact that he won't fight to save their lives - all things he does in great selfishness with really tragic and significant consequences, but also all way more complex than they appear from looking at it. if i start on why the "sulking in his tent" thing pisses me off we'll be here for like ten years and you'll need a horse to escape me. i'll just leave it. you gotta trust me.

back on the bloodlust: it's really significant that patroclus is the turning point, because patroclus plays a key role in grounding achilles to humanity and all aspects of mortality. once patroclus is gone, that moral center is gone too, and we begin to see the breakdown of this half-divine figure into a character so struck with deeply human emotions he can't figure out how to hold that he ironically can't maintain his humanity anymore. there's a lot going on and it makes achilles an extremely complex character with very complex feelings, so it drives me absolutely up the wall bonkers when people see him and go, oh there's the guy who fights and kills a lot, he was really mean when we saw him, he sulked in his tent and has no compassion, let's just reduce him to a simple fighter who only cares about himself and that's the end of his motivation. there's a lot of bad things you can say about achilles and have them be perfectly true. he's very selfish and very proud. but he's definitely not a simplistic, mindless, bloodthirsty warrior. that really misses the point of him.

13. worst blorboficiation

okay let's talk about patroclus.

there's this fanon phenomenon that happens a lot with female characters, especially where they're the only female character (or only feminine character) in a group of otherwise masculine figures. it's a very particular kind of girlbossification that turns them into a hypercompetent mom friend who always has their shit together, is secretly better at everything (especially fighting) than all the Guys, and likes to roll their eyes at how immature and silly Their Boys are! i don't need to name examples. you know. you Know.

it happens to male characters too, though, in specific circumstances. they usually have traditionally feminine skill sets and they're often noted for being maternal, caring, or kind. as if to compensate, fanon tends to aggressively exaggerate their competence in all areas. patroclus in the song of achilles was famously portrayed as not very battle-ready, which yes is characterisation i did not like, but a lot of iliad and patchilles people REALLY REALLY didn't like it and now everyone makes a REAL POINT of pointing out how competent patroclus is on the battlefield. and he IS! HE IS! i think, though dont quote me, he has the highest named body count in the iliad. so like, you will never see me arguing against the idea that he's an extremely strong and competent warrior and that his compassion is a choice rather than a product of weakness. im firmly in that camp and i could go on about it all day. but it came with this whole host of Sassification where suddenly it wasnt just that patroclus is one of the best greek soldiers, it was No seriously guys, Patroclus is a BOSS XD. Also, he's the one holding the braincell. He's really sassy and sarcastic and he has Achilles whipped. Etc. Etc.

which, the same way this irks me when it happens to female characters, just annoys me so much. it kind of lessens the impact of how legitimately great and unique patroclus is as a character because it feels like a constant defence against an argument that isn't even necessarily being presented, at least not anymore. when you're constantly trying to make a point with reference to the idea that everyone thinks the other point is true, it weakens the point. patroclus is great. he's one of the best greek soldiers. he can wreck shop. he's exceptionally kind and he's known for being compassionate and caring, which is super significant to the iliad's narrative and themes. i love him. he does NOT have the brain cell. if he ever had it, apollo knocked it out of him the second or third time he tried to climb the same wall he'd just fallen off.

[frankendykez]

this is highly different from the usual posts i make, but im only posting this because i don;t have. anywhere else to really say it normally and in a way that doesnt seem like im purposely making the people around me discomforted. regular posting will go back after this, but for this vent post specifically tw for: mentions of (almost) sucide attempts and suicidal thoughts

i almost attempted quite a few nights ago. almost. i had the knife in my hand but pussied out last second. i'm glad i did. i thoguht the worst period of my life was roughyl around 13 to 15 or so, but even though i did have suicidal thoughts then and hid it all up with whimsy, i never got this close to an attempt. i don't know why i tried this, i don't want to die, i want to live and be happy and i am still trying to be happy and hopeful despite all of this, i am trying to be optimistic but i suppose despite my current belief (or something im trying to turn into a genuine belief) that my life is worth something, i guess i am just havig Quite The Year right now.

i want to live, you know, and i will live, im sure of that, i guess that one moment was a odd one off thing, if that makes sense. i know i will make it through whatever im going through, and i have a strong reason to keep on living --- it's for the people that i love, mainly, my friends. i don't want them to ever have to miss me, or to ever stay awake in bed during late night crying about my suicide. i want to die of old age, i want to be there for the people i love, my life really is just other people and honestly, i think any reason to live is a good reason to live, as long as it makes you happy and improtantly alive.

i am the most loved ive ever been in my current friendgroup (but i don't think they deserve to hear me vent about uncomfortable topics nor would they want to me which is understandable), i think, but "home" has been horrible. i don't know what to do with myself, everytime im out i dread going home, i don't think i've ever past a day without crying at least once, or getting irrationally angry at something minor. and things have happened in the past also affected the way i think, you know. sometimes i don't believe the love my friends have for me, even though i also at the same time i know its true. i know i deserve to be loved and i will do anything to be loved and in turn i love all my friends like they're my entire world, but it feels like my brain is at war with itself, one side being stupid irrational thoughts and actual logic. i often have breakdowns about "not being anyones best friend", and whenever i vent about this to a friend of mine, theyre always like "ur my best friend!!" and i want to believe them so badly and i kind of DO but i also don't, some annoying part of me just thinks theyre just... saying that. i suppose. its kind of silly to believe i was born a person, sometimes i feel like a vortex, always hungry for love, craving more than what im given. this is such a long paragraph already but i havent even describe the extent of my emotionality, which tbh i rather would not do. i already said too much anywyas. but also little enough taht i just sound like a whiny little bitch, tbh.

i dont know why i said so much, i think it was another attempt to make the few people that read this not worry much about me trying to attempt suicide again. but yeah, i was having a Time. god this barely makes sense lol. thanks for anyone who read tho no ones obligated to respond or interact. i got over it, it was a few days ago anyways. jus had to say it somewhere without making thigns in the friendgroup feel uncomforyable.

sometimes i wish i didnt live but im so fucking glad i did

sorry for this post you lot, promise thisll be the only one. love you guys even if i barely know u. i dont mean to sound like an attention seeker, i just need to say it somewhere, i guess. god i sound so stipid lmfao

[nevis-the-skeleton]

tfp starscream ! (cosmics-beings!)

First impression :

So, to contextualize, before watching TFP I watched Cyberverse, and I was just starting to discover Transformers. I still had trouble remembering the names of the characters, or recognizing them. So when I watched the first episode of TFP and found that Starscream didn't look like this anymore:

But like this:

I gone crazy. Also, I found him terrifying at first XD (not to mention Soundwave). I remember asking my sister to press pause, and I cried saying that Starscream and Soundwave scared me XD. It was especially the claws and the look of Starscream that terrified me. I also yelled that they changed the colors which caused me to be lost (because I spot a character or image mostly with the colors). Don't judge me I was discovering Transformers, I was still a novice X).

Impression now :

I love Starscream TFP! Without contest ! He is the most complex and the most brilliant character of the series in my eyes! He's the one who made me love Transformers and the others Starscreams! That's mean a lot! His character, his way of thinking, there's so much to do with this character that he's a real goldmine. I like characters with a strong character, and he has a character that is just incredible XD. Also, he's really cool! We sometimes forget it because Season 3 made a gag of him. But in fact he is incredibly determined, and really strong. Also, he's really pretty X3.

Starscream supremacy !

Favorite moment :

I have a lot of favorite moments with Starscream, but I'll make the effort to name only five X) (that's a lot already… Shhhh…) 1- When he saves Arcee. In fact, I wasn't expecting it, so much that it almost moved me. It really showed me that this character could show pity, when they had never really given him any. It made me really appreciate him. 2- When he flees from Megatron, and manages to fly into a collapsing cave. Do you realize the skill it takes to do that?! It's just impressive! 3- When he goes to look for Breakdown, despite Megatron's orders. I know they're presented this as if he did it for his own benefit. But we must not forget that at the beginning of the episode, he tells Megatron that it is not right to leave Breakdown to his fate. It proves once again that he is much more "empathetic" than the others. Megatron doesn't care, and we never see KnockOut worry about it. 4- His many infiltrations in the Nemesis, which apparently is not very well monitored XD. But one in particular is the chase with the Vehicons, he once again has so much flow in the air, really it's magnificent! 5- The episode in Antarctica, the scene with the Apex Armor is really great. And also it made me happy to see him let off steam a little, knowing that he had been roughed up during the whole episode. And above all, he wins for once! He's the one with the Apex Armor at the end!

Idea for a story :

I had a lot of stories ^^. There is of course "The Polar Star" (of which I am already writing Part 5 in French and Part 4 in English). The novel tells a version where Skyfire exists, and is found by Starscream and Optimus (during episode 13 of Season 2 precisely, with the Apex Armor). I just wanted to give Starscream some love, after being particularly frustrated with Season 3 and the movie. Summary :

Starscream was never very lucky, he knew it... But he didn’t think he was that lucky! He did not think that going to the Arctic to look for a relic would cause him so many problems... He had already had to avoid being destroyed by Dreadwing, and now he found himself prisoner by Optimus... Really, it was pure bad luck... Besides, because of his inability to fly, because of the damn MECH, he was more than destitute... This day could hardly be worse... When they found themselves in front of the ice block containing the relic, the Seeker noticed that it was not a relic inside... But, someone?! And this person is none other than... Skyfire! The ghosts of the past always end up coming back, often bringing back things that were supposed to be long gone... Things that could well change the future itself...

* My other story idea was a novel called "We are the same," and that version takes place at the start of Season 3. Starscream is devastated by the destruction of the Omega Keys, and gives up all reason to live. He then left the Decepticons, and hid in an old military hangar, to let himself starve. But what he didn't know was that a young human named Adler, who also often thinks of death, always takes refuge in this hangar when he's sad. They will each then meet someone who looks a lot like them, and try to enjoy life together (no ship of course, Adler is only 12 years old!)

Unpopular opinion :

Ok... Ready...? I hate Season 3 and the movie!

And, it's not just that I don't like it, I hate it. I know it's violent, and I wouldn't go so far as to hate for Season 3 (thank you Predaking). But the film is a definite no! There was so much injustice towards Starscream it was heartbreaking to watch! And Season 3 may be less hateful than the movie to me, but that doesn't take away the fact that the violence against Starscream was just awful. He really never had a break, and I had to put up with that, and not show anything because I wasn't watching alone…! I showed TFP to a friend, until Season 2, we watched together. Then I asked her to watch Season 3 on her own (I really don't want to watch this season again), and I advised against the film.

Favorite relationship :

Skyfire x Starscream without a doubt! I know that this ship is not possible normally, because Skyfire does not exist in TFP, but I don't care X). For me, no TFP character deserves Starscream, they were all too bad with him! Except maybe Optimus. Skyfire was just the touch of sweetness that was missing, and that Starscream needed in my opinion.

Favorite headcanon :

I like to think that Starscream isn't interrested by sexual stuffs or things like that, despite the fact he's looking very "sexy". I like to think that it's embarrassing him to talk about that.

Thanks for you ask ^^ @cosmics-beings

[van-yangyin]

TW tw: mental breakdown, tw: illness, it's abour our dog (Lea and me), just in case

A month and a few days ago I guess you have seen how I've done practically nothing on this blog, just writing challenges and little else. That's because some time ago Yuka, the puppy of our family (me and @lea-heartscxiv among them) didn't eat any fodder, and started scratching the wall with her mouth. At first we didn't take it as something so serious, in fact we thought it was the fodder, because she did eat the homemade food. But the night of the 6th to the 7th July, during the night she became very immobile and only breathed (although the first thing shouted was that she was dead, which was something quite shocking, before seeing her breathing) so we decided to take her to the vet, first we went to one and she told us that Yuka was anemic, that she ate very little and that lacked red blood cells, she needed a blood transfusion and they referred us to another vet. We went to the other vet and they did the same tests as at the other vet because the information they sent to them was insufficient and poorly done. They did an analysis and an ultrasound, in the analysis they found insufficient red blood cells as in the other vet and in the ultrasound they found that she has a fairly large tumor in the stomach which is what causes anemia, as the tumor causes the vitamins in the food to reject the vitamins provided.

The first operation is very expensive, of the three options we were given from $1600 to $2600 the most expensive (more or less) and it is also the first of many, not counting chemotherapies. It's a hereditary disease, she's 10 years old and her father died when he was 13 years old because of the same thing, so surely it was something that had to happen to her. In the end, much to our regret, we have decided not to operate her, because of the financial issue and because we don't want her to spend the last years of her life with operations and all that entails both physically and psychologically. This week until next week we're administering pills and liquids that protect her stomach so that she can eat again, the problem is that it's decisive that she eats, otherwise we will have to go back to the vet and see what we can do. And just today she doesn't want to eat anything and has vomited the pill along with the food we have given her. We have already had another dog with tumor in the past, in fact she had threetumors and died at the age of 15 without any operation, in fact she died because got lost and her condition when she was found was very weak (I was still a toddler). Although we know that every dog is different, when it has to happen it will happen and in the meantime she will be surrounded by lots of love and lots of cuddles, be it one, two, three, four, five years or whatever.

Lately that's why I haven't had the energy to sit down and start organizing posts of Custom Content to share. I've only been able to draw, write and create half-made custom content that isn't even well done, because of this lack of emotional energy.

I hope you can understand my situation. It's not that I'm leaving everything half done, it's just that my mental energy is only focused on Yuka, just like it's with Lea. We're starting again to publishing but for Costum Content part I don't want to share anything at the moment, because I can't do things in mood I'm in and then later regret what I've shared because I hated the final result.

I'm already starting to process everything that is going on and waiting for this week to see how everything progresses and if Yuka will finally eat or not, and get the energy she's missing. It's so heartbreaking to see how she wouldn't stand still before and now she's not even able to walk down a step from the door to go into the house. All she can do is just lie in the yard. But unlike the other day, now every time we go to her, she gets up and wags her tail, which was very difficult for her the pasts days.

[toastythetoasterrr]

Today's victim is.. everyone's favorite traumatized hero,

Kino Estere!

In front of the general public, he puts on this brave, carefree front, pretending he isn't paranoid as hell and on the verge of tears at any given moment

but yeah, he is UNWELL. long-lasting family curse that makes the person with the curse bleed more, unable to recover from wounds properly (basically all of em scar) and die young??? bucko lives with a sense of doom hanging over his head he'd feel weird without at this point

he had an ordinary childhood up until his 6th birthday, when his parents were like, "HEY, kino, we have a surprise 4 u," and then they told him he was never gonna hit thirty and died

his older sister, now his only surviving family member, chucked him at an orphanage and said to put him in the family home once he was old enough

like a year later this girl accidentally threw a ball at kinos window and was like "sorry also u look like you haven't seen the sun in months wanna hang out with me and my friend" and he didn't say ok she just thought he nodded and dragged him outside to her friend who was a fish

and Friendship :)

until kino decided to take up sword fighting and oh no monster

Shizu Da Fish is died.... Kino is trauma again... Tetra didn't see it because she was told to go get help

Time skip to when Kino's starting to Hero

Fnaf.. Kino... Fnaf Kino... Omg

Anyways, another skip.. he's famous now bc he does a really good job at saving and helping people yahoo

It's Shizu again she lived and she's wackus bonkus now and trying to kill kino so he's like "girl I was 13 what did you expect me to do?? suddenly have the skill and experiences of a 30 year old hero who's been fighting since they were 2??" and now she's really died because Self Defense.

Oh no he got seen... he tried to be like "pls don't tell it was self defense she was ranting about wanting me dead very graphically and then lunged at me with a knife" but Mr Worldwide Won't Believe A Word This Guy Says doesn't believe him and then falls down the stairs to kinos family tomb crypt basement thing and dies so kinos like "FUCK I DID THAT AAAGH" and hides the bodies and only tells tetra the shizu part of the story

Kino is really good at faking things.

and he goes to the store one day and finds this fellow who's being accused of theft and when the shopkeeper reveals there is ZERO evidence the fellow did it kino calls him an idiot, grabs the fellow, and skips away

He gets talking about his hero days and suddenly he has an apprentice

Insert Training Montage

Kino remembers he only has food for one guy so he goes to get his apprentice Gabriel a sword and food that isn't fancy cereal, a loaf of bread, fish shaped candy, sandwich toppings, and a box of assorted berries when..

ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT?!?!?!?!!!!

Kino gets 2 arrows to the shoulder and knee each, an arrow to his mid-arm, a nasty knife wound to his left eye, blinding it?!?@?@?@ and also to his right arm and also gets one of his earrings ripped out.

Ouch!

he skedaddles and falls into a cave real hard also probably breaking a rib or two (he doesn't know, he just knows it hurts to breathe deeply)

he deals with his wounds using Ripped Up Shirt and then cries for a bit

and then he decides to use the old broken mask and magic hoodie he found in the cave to resort to crime

and he eventually has a mental breakdown because isolation (he isn't talking to people. only steal.) and also being haunted by his past in a damp cave

He's really flippin scared in there someone give him. a very gentle hug because he is also in physical pain

And erm... That's all for now

[nocaptainonthisship]

twenty questions for fic writers

thanks for the tag @wyrd-syster and @bad-surprise!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

9, as of this moment, but 10 by the end of the week.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Just over 85k which feels both low and absurdly high.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Actively, Rings of Power, though I've also got a Captain Swan one-shot, and dabbled briefly with Reylo.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(Artanis) -- my beloved. In which Halbrand is an international superstar, and Galadriel is the girl who broke his heart.

To Make A Queen -- the beginning of it all. I wanted to write a one-shot to remove the haladriel brain rot. It became a two-shot. 11 months later, we're here.

it will come back -- my longest complete work to date. I am immeasurably fond of it, and desire never to read another word of it again.

once, i belonged to you(and twice i was free) -- the rapunzel inspired dead-dove. in which galadriel is a princess locked in a tower, and halbrand is her jailor.

A Kingdom They Became -- what started as my own personal breakdown about my chronic pain became possibly the work I am proudest of to date. I am still overwhelmed by the response to this fic.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Eh. I certainly try to. However, my brain does a thing, you see, where 24 hours after I post something to ao3, the door is closed and my brain considers that fic officially DONE. After that point, responding to comments is a much steeper uphill battle. That being said- I do read and savor every single one of them.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hands down, its It Will Come Back. I had *intended* to write a happy ending, but the closer I got to the end, the more I realized that a happy ending would not have been satisfying. I'm incredibly proud of the ending I wrote, but it definitely hits the angst pretty hard.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Dangerous Creatures -- silly little aussie farm-life fluff. (But its haladriel, so Gal still kills something.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. I have- up to this point, anyway- been incredibly lucky.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, but what kind?? Still figuring that one out, so for now I'll say, "Whatever kind I can manage on any given day."

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't. I might in the future, but I do have a hard time taking crossovers seriously as a reader- I imagine that feeling would be far worse as a writer.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, thank god.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but maybe one day!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Cowritten- no. I am a beta on a fic (this is not a come-on* in any way shape or form by the lovely @ophidion) which is a process I've more than once compared to being a midwife helping someone bring new life into the world.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

All time fave seems like a great way to get me to change my mind tomorrow(no, I'm not commitment-phobic, you are!) so I'll just say I like pretty, bitey girls and bad men who want to change but don't know how. In any permutation.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Everything that is out there currently, I am confident I will finish. The things I've thus far kept to myself? Only time will tell.

16. What are your writing strengths?

This question feels like a personal attack. Yikes. I think- I hope- the way I write sweeps you up like a raging river, uses rhythm and verbiage to transport the reader entirely into a different world. I'm good at the mechanics behind making you *feel* something, of manipulating an emotion to transport you inside what a character is feeling.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Speed. They say you shouldn't care about your first draft, because you can always fix it later. Well, jokes on them, I NEVER fix it later, so I damn well better do a decent job on my first pass. This makes me slow, and makes the thesaurus app on my phone one of my top used.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I do not do this, other than perhaps a words here or there(and that word is almost always going to be a pet name I make no apologies.) I think it has it's time and place, but it can also pull you out of the story entirely.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Lost (Skate Lives, bby!) beginning wayyy back in the summer of 2005. I was 12, so I thank the gods every days that lost-forum is dead and I never cross posted to ffn. (I also wrote for twilight back in the day, but we don't talk about that.)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

The A Kingdom, An Empire, A Home series has, I think, my most beautiful writing to date, and despite being incredibly difficult to write(or perhaps because of it) it is also the most satisfying. It is a complex exploration of pain, redemption, and the complicated feelings towards parenthood. If I traveled back in time to just a year ago and showed past!cap that prose, I don't know that she would believe herself capable of it. Turns out she is wrong, and there is only better to come.

tagging: @alicuntismswrites, @lisenberry, @pursuitseternal, @hazelmaines, @mostlydriedmango, @maironite

(I do not know who has already done this, sorry!)

(Also, if you've tagged me in one of these games at any point in the last couple months and I've ignored: I'm sorry, don't hate me. My brain has been a mess, and these sometimes seem intensely overwhelming.)

[basedandlovepilled]

my lore under the cut LOL

i've been working on healing from childhood trauma and shit but one thing i still have a hard time talking about is being medically abused as a child. like, mainly i can't talk about it because i literally can't remember it. i get headaches trying to remember huge moments in my life that i know happened from photos or stories but it's completely lost to me. i was taking so many pills from the ages 10-18 that my brain just became swiss cheese.

but the things i DO remember are even harder to talk about. like, i remember having a panic attack at 11 years old that resulted in me getting my ass beat for causing a scene, followed by a sudden appointment with my doctor who prescribed me hydroxizine for my anxiety. at some point my mom took me back and told the doctor the meds were making me overweight, so i stopped the meds. i got better at hiding my panic attacks. i thought i was getting better.

when i was almost 13, i had another panic attack/mental breakdown. i remember this one very vividly as well--my mom sitting on the couch in the living room, my dad watching tv on the recliner, and i was literally crying and screaming and banging my head into the wall. i don't remember what triggered it, but i remember how my parents responded to it.

"look at me. right here." my moms voice. she was laughing. i made eye contact with her phone camera before i saw her face. she looked like a literal cartoon villain when she told me, "i'm recording this to show you later, so you see how ridiculous you look." i started seeing a therapist after that. i was prescribed prozac after my first visit.

i was constantly fed the message that "your mental illness is unmanageable without medication," AND "psychiatric medications will ruin your life." every time i "got better" after a few months on prozac, my mom would say something like "the meds are making you gain so much weight, that can't be healthy. you're doing fine, right? you don't need those anymore." and would get rid of the pills and send me to church camp. going cold turkey on prozac every few months from ages 12-14 was fucking awful. my mom tells me i hardly even went to school at that time because i was so sick. everything was a haze back then. i just remember so much shame and guilt and nothing else.

and while all that was happening, i was also being constantly tested for other diseases and shit. over and over again, i would get ultrasounds and blood tests and stool samples and scans and x-rays. i got so many diagnoses but none of them explained why my mom hated me so much. we were all so confused and so desperate to know what the hell was wrong with me.

and i'm sure i just seem like i'm whining abt old shit but like. this shit haunts me. learning to trust medical professionals again is fucking hard. and even still i'll have episodes where i flush all my prescriptions down the toilet because taking them reminds me of the lack of control over what goes in my body i had my entire life. or i doubt if i even need them at all. after being given so many diagnoses from so many different people that it just all feels so meaningless. and it's so fucked up too cus like i literally wouldn't be crying abt this shit as an adult if my parents were just fucking normal

[itsrattysworld]

Without Prejudice Mervelee Myers Pleads With Parents Colleagues Peers Children Turn Adults Engage With 1992 In Workplaces Lambeth College Open University Subscribe To Social Media Help Me Change The Narratives Before I Was Made A Criminal Need ERT Violent Nusiance To Save My Husband And Me From Slowly Dying Of Torture We Are Traumatised After Death Of Mum With Dementia I Had 1st Nervous Breakdown At Kings College Hospital NHS Foundation Trust 2nd LEYF 1st High Blood Pressure CRISIS 21/7/23 Dostan Died Cancer Amly Spent 60th Birthday Intensive Care Blood Vessel Burst In Head Gag So I Must Not Talk About Situation Am Facing For Speaking My Truths Please Come Forward To Help Me Regain My Identity So I Don't End Up In Jail Like Ashter Who Knew He Was Dying Of AIDS Took Law In His Hand Throw Acid On 3 Young Men Waited In Burnt Savannah New Testament Church Of God Waied For The Police Am Victim Of Metropolitan Police That Failed To Act When I Raised Concerns Re Verbal Threats Ryan Clement Winsome Duncan Came To Section Me Malicious Report I Wrote On Facebook I Was Feeling Suicidal Discrimination Patterns Verified When 4 PCs Came To My Home 30/11/20 MOPAC Response Documents Hate Crimes A New Met For London Nigel Pearce I Met Elim House YouTube Video Must Be The Marker Of Why I Must Be Given The Chance To Defend Defamation In Witness Statements Of Samantha Gibbs Trina Philbert Mimi Owusu Scam Me £10,000.00 Between April- July 2023 Social Media Must Be Proof I Am Victim Of Equality Act Protected Characteristics Breaches I Have Lost 10 Years Facing Time In Jail For Speaking My Truths To Safeguard Husband Face Of Windrush 70 Composer Brixton Market Slowly Tortured To Death By Miscarriages Of Justice Watch Arnold Tomlinson Suffer 12/1/24

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[kafkaoftherubble]

有点忐忑

I have lost my sense of smell. I've been gradually losing it since yesterday, but today, it's not functioning. This is weird since I've long past my fever and am virtually no different from normal, but fine. It will return. The ability to smell, I mean. I'll be able to smell chamomiles again soon.

But there's something else I'm worried about given the history of us I'd inherited from my predecessors. And just now, it flared.

It's the OCD. It's trying to capitalize on this loss, however temporary, and telling me that it will never come back"What if it doesn't come back? What if it's not temporary? What if you can't smell shits forever? What if this nothingness is permanent forever? What if—"

How shall I describe those few seconds? My heart racing to the max. Hands going cold. Anxiety and fear, yes, but mostly that primal urge to scream. "Help me! Help! Let me smell something, please! Let me smell something, please, let me smell something! I want to smell something! I want to smell something! I need to smell something!"

I felt like I was heading toward a breakdown,

And then They kept saying I shouldn't try and look for something to smell because I'll keep trying and then there will still be no smell, and I'll feel like I don't have a nose, and if I'm not smelling anything how can I tell if I'm breathing, and—

Luckily Fionn scrambled to get me to smell my shampoo, and I could smell a whiff of its scent, mild as it was. I could also smell my deodorant. A whiff. Very mild. But I can. That pacified me for a bit, for now.

But what if I can't the next time? Should I smell them every hour to see if I can smell at least something? We have been there before. Establishing a ritual, pacifying ourselves, telling us it's the one thing that keeps Them out. Fostering some sort of reliance. But we didn't actually really got better because of it because we were just shoring up little arbitrary things to make us feel safe.

I don't want what happened to me when we were 13 to happen again. I cannot tackle this new source of anxiety in a way that causes That to happen, because I don't want to be brought to another exorcist or go through another exorcism again. The Lyndises at that time got out of half a year's worth of serious episodes and those exorcisms with insane creativity and a sort of fantasy-reality dissociate-associate and honestly, it was a hilarious and sorta darkly comedic story that some of my predecessor Lyndises used for her stand-up and story-telling time, but we also remembered how paralyzingly terrifying every moment of it was, too, in that state. It wasn't half a year-long of psychological torment for nothing. The boarding school didn't start spreading rumors about us being half-possessed at all times, discussing us in message boards, making up stories about the sort of spirit that possessed me, for nothing. We didn't start talking to mirrors for nothing. We didn't start talking to dolls for nothing. All that because our OCD flared up and was uncontrolled and nobody in that stupid school, despite being supposedly elite and having an office for counselors, knew it was a mental disorder.

All they worried about was whether I was suicidal. We weren't; we just wanted out of the school because it was full of "hepatitis B blood virus" in my OCD mind, and because it was so lonely and isolating and invisible there. Because we were being treated like a ghost, but we were still tangible enough to possibly be contaminated by "viruses", and so They kept telling us we could be if we weren't vigilant. Outside, people were telling us that we were just doing stupid shit because we were a delicate flower with zero grit who couldn't even weather through a boarding school, no matter how many times she told 'em she wanted to be transferred to a normal public school. In the end, we had to play into the possession narrative—including not hiding our tendency to hear voices, and even letting Someone take over the driver seat partially—just to finally be listened to by a crowd of terrified adults. They rather listen to the "ghost" who possessed me. Because when I was a human, I was simply my Dad's experiment to create the perfect child.

We nursed ourselves back to health through weird regimes we cobbled out of daydreams and fantasies and those audio hallucinations and by luck and some miscellaneous untaught ingenuity, without support from the internet or other people online (we didn't even know it was called OCD; we just knew we were not actually possessed), and the help of a new environment where we could start over again. But that was yet another half a year of recovery.

I don't want that. My predecessors didn't go through all of these just so I, the one who succeeded them, repeat their methods and honest mistakes. I have to be careful about this loss-of-sense-of-smile issue. And this time, there's a high chance that we can. I am much more mindful of my state of mind and emotional state, and I am better at facing and responding to Them. I have knowledge! I'm armed with knowledge all of us had been gathering thus far, in a volume far greater than 13-year-old Lyndis(es) had. My metacognitive voices are wiser. Faster. Clearer at rebuttals. And so is Fionn, who learned his own things while I learned mine. And the 8-foot Tall Woman isn't even as antagonistic to me as she used to be.

This is different from then. This doesn't need to be a replay of what happened in 2008. It's not impossible for me to make sure our brain doesn't accidentally succumb to the lure of my OCD and rewrite its own neural circuit into a deeper and deeper spiral. Be vigilant, but not toward the object of anxieties, but to the anxieties themselves. My sense of smell will return; I know that much as a fact of science. But the anxieties themselves—They—will try to convince me otherwise. They will try to make me edge to another breakdown.

If I succumb too much I rewrite my circuit and make it even easier to succumb the next time. It's all circuitry at the end of the day; it's a rumination, a self-reinforcing process. Oh, like the Kaisen in Jujutsu Kaisen! Hahahaha!

..... You of the future who inherited me: this is as much for me as it is for you.

[faggotboyhalo]

as a person whose LIFELONG SPECIAL INTEREST OF 13 YEARS is kingdom hearts, it fucking makes so much sense when you view it from a plural perspective. i've always latched onto roxas as a character, but when you view him from a DID/OSDD perspective...

you could view a person's heart and body being separated into heartless (the heart/emotional core/memories) and nobody (more or less a husk of a person) as splitting, especially since this often occurs due to trauma—such as, sora being killed by his best friend at the end of kingdom hearts. this created his heartless form, obviously, and his nobody form (roxas) whose name is literally just shuffled around and placed an X on it. (EDIT: i rember this wrong. sora killed himself to return kairi's heart to her. regardless, traumatic moment!)

the thing is, too, organization XIII is, fundamentally, a cult. it reflects a silent minority of DID/OSDD systems who (unfortunately) go through RAMCOA trauma and violence. the entire thing regarding the nobodies, especially axel/roxas/xion as a friend group in the grand scheme of things, is literally reminiscent of the stages of grief.

i think xion goes through all the stages of grief over the course of 358/2 days, which starts with her grief at losing all sense of self (due to discovering she's a part of sora, false memories and all that) all the way to the end when she forces roxas to kill her in order to return her stored memories to him. all three of the nobody gang represents different ways to cope with trauma—xion's is acceptance, axel's is delaying the inevitable (i suppose bargaining), and roxas's is (for the most part) denial. axel tries to stop xion from running away from the organization, axel tries stopping roxas from turning his back against the organization ("no one will miss me" "that's not true, i would"), and for most of the narrative, roxas is largely in denial. i know it's memed to death, but roxas' last words to xion "who will i have ice cream with" is incredibly impactful, as he's still clinging onto the last bit of hope he has for his friend group. there's a scene of him crying on top of the twilight town tower, alone—he missed his friends, and he would do anything to bring them back. quite similarly to what axel ends up doing in the beginning of KHII, although he switches his goal at the tail end. if he protects sora, he also protects roxas.

a large part of the nobodies and organization XIII is that they (a) don't have memories of their past life—and if they do, they're incredibly fuzzy or otherwise unreliable; either way, they don't really apply to their current life, right? (b) due to their lack of memories, their identity or lack thereof is very hazy and unstable (and in the case like xion, she had a huge breakdown because of it), although most nobodies choose to forgo any personal stake to their identities in order to serve their ultimate mission (organization XIII).

when roxas was in the twilight town, his world became largely disoriented. the stops in time remind me a lot of flashbacks, ie lost in the past. whenever the stops in the data twilight town happened, he would always meet a pivotal character or be attacked by nobodies. roxas was given fake memories, suppressing the ones he had in the organization, and was under the impression he was just having a summer break before he went back to school. he was confused, he was scared, and he ended up lashing at the best friend he finally remembered—axel—who was getting in his way.

a large part of sora's healing is that (a) naminé had to recover his memories/xion had to return his memories to him and (b) roxas had to return as his nobody. roxas rejoining sora in his heart was the last thing to happen before sora woke up from his Super Nap™️. although you could easily say that sora's healing was due to *shuffles notes* integration, obviously that's not a part of everybody's story with DID/OSDD—some people learn to live with their parts in a healthy, communicative plurality. i think the ending of KHII when roxas and naminé speak or end up on destiny island together is a nice cherry on top for both of them.

i could go on a long rant about other various kingdom hearts characters and how they could connect in a relatable DID/OSDD story, like ventus/vanitas etc. but i think one of my favorite examples of a complex character in kingdom hearts is riku. he has a fundamental understanding that he could be either light or darkness (essentially good or evil) but he ends up learning that he could master both and use his darkness to aid the power of light—probably put in his head after he sealed kingdom hearts in the first game. he's a character that used to be ashamed of his darkness, but soon learns to hone it and use it in confidence. it's a good message for people, not just systems, who just feel this fight about what they were told vs who they want to be.

edit: yea i know riku doesn't have a nobody/heartless or anything, although i guess you could say ansem is his evil alter /j

thinking about kingdom hearts…..from my position (as a singlet!) the best and most flexibly non-prescriptively instructive plurality media i’ve ever encountered and 99.999999% certain it’s both a) entirely accidental and b) only that good at it literally due to what the writers (and the vast majority of players) would call mistakes and plot holes. i obviously do not know how relatable it is to systems, but it definitely is literally The fallback example i, as a singlet, refer back to for every single Hard To Grok and Metaphysically Bewildering nuance in how plurality works in all its myriad and ruleless and apparently-contradictory forms......too bad it is also kingdom hearts.