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[mysterystarz]

although he doesn’t seem it, miya osamu would be the one to sneak a kiss behind the bookshelves of a library.

it was never a dramatic trip. you simply wanted to collect something to read in your pastime and he readily offered to accompany you, saying something about how he could look at the manga options.

the two of you make your way to your desired section, with you tucking behind the shelves until you find your favorite author. you run your fingers along the spines, until osamu gently lifts your chin and angles your face to meet his.

you’re shocked for a moment, so shocked that you barely register the press of his lips on yours. they’re warm and soft, and leaving yours far too soon as he steps away to look back at the books.

your best friend…kissing you… behind shelves?

well that complicates things.

[whimsicalcotton]

"i guess she won't be coming to pick you up anymore."

-

amberfield as that one panel from At The Bottom of The Water bc it's so them flavored <3

og:

[frost-queen]

Outmatched //Part 10 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, 

@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr,    @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,

@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman, 

@nyenye,  @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg, studioreader, @wonderlandfandomkingdom, @misscaller06, @dracoflaco, @nikithepuff, @child-of-of-the-sunshine

Summary: Schemes come to plan in order to force Anthony and you together. Can a heart to heart change matters? Certainly now your aunt has come into the picture, wanting to have her demands over you. [ Final chapter ] Read part 1  & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9

Sherlock was writing vigorously. The feather in his hand moving swiftly as he scribbled it around. Dipping as quick as he could in the ink seemingly not wanting to forget a word. It had been annoying you for the past couple of days. It made you sigh loud to get his attention. Nothing occurred as Sherlock was lost in his own mind. Having no ears for his surroundings. You sighed again sitting sloppy in the armchair.

Irritated by the scratching of the feather over paper, you got up. – “Whoever are you corresponding with so eagerly?” – You called out making your way over to him. You came to the front of the desk, lowering yourself on your knees, chin up on the level of the desk. Finally Sherlock noticed you with a brief glance. – “A lady perhaps?” – you responded shockingly.

“Someone you met at the ball? Are you in love Sherlock?” – you questioned with a gleam in your eyes. – “Don’t be absurd.” – Sherlock answered dipping the feather in the ink. – “A sister can dream.” – you told him slightly bummed. Sherlock looked up from his paper. – “So can a brother.” – he simply said. It made you roll your eyes at him.

“Should you not be preparing yourself?” – Sherlock spoke barely looking up as he finished the letter with his name. – “Prepare for what?” – you responded confused. Sherlock placed the feather down, giving you his full attention. – “The park.” – he informed you.

You got up half confused. Slightly narrowing your eyes at him. – “Where are you going with this?” – you wanted to know. Sherlock started folding letter. – “Nowhere.” – he let on, burning some candlewax to seal the note. You watched him closely. Trying to decipher a hint on his face.

Something that would give himself away. Nothing. Your brother was good in hiding his emotions. Frustrated you groaned and took a turn towards the hallway. You went up the stairs to your bedroom to prepare. Moments later you were meeting up with your brother Sherlock outside of the house. 

You took his arm letting him escort you to the park. The weather was quite nice. A soft breeze bristling through the trees. The sun high as it left a warmth on your skin. – “Have you heard anything from Lord Hill?” – you asked when Sherlock nodded at a passing gentleman. – “No.” – he responded placing his hand on yours over his arm. He came to a brief pause. – “Why? Is it something you anticipate?” – he questioned with a raised eyebrow. – “No.” – you answered tugging at his arm to walk again. – “I was simply curious.” – you mumbled turning your head away from him.

To be fair you were a bit curious off his reaction. You did leave him standing alone at the ball. Rejecting him for the entire ton to see. You hoped he didn’t resent you for it. Or perhaps you hoped he might forgive you. Perhaps he was your only chance of getting out of your aunt’s clutches. The thought alone frightened you. Knowing that your aunt would start meddling herself into your life. Marrying you off to anyone suitable enough in her eyes. Take you away from your family for proper etiquettes. Wanting you to be as stiff and stuffy as all the other ladies throwing themselves at any man possible simply because they can’t get any better.

That was not what you wanted. Far from. You wanted to marry for love if it allow itself to you. At this point you didn’t think you were worthy of love anymore. Sherlock must have noticed the self-pity in your eyes as he gave you a nudge with his elbow. Making you look up to his warming smile. It made you smile faintly back, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Sherlock took a deep breath wishing love upon you so hard. If anyone deserved it, it was you.

You lifted your head back up upon arriving at the park. – “Now what are we here for?” – you questioned. Sherlock just smiled. – “A nice walk.” – he responded not pleasing you with his answer. Now it truly felt like he was hiding something from you. – “Sherlock Holmes now I know you are hiding things from me!” – you outed with a stern expression. Sherlock chuckled at your attempt of a motherly scowl. – “I wouldn’t dream of it sister.”

You puffed loud turning your head away. Sherlock led you down the pathway, greeting some people sitting on the benches with a nod. Up ahead you saw a carriage stand in the middle of the road. Sherlock breathed in as his chest rose. He picked up his pace, dragging you along. You tagged along confused as he walked to the side of the carriage. – “Are…are we getting in?” – you asked confused. Sherlock opened the carriage door pushing you inside. At the same time the door on the other side opened as well.

“You are!” – Sherlock spoke as you felt another body bump against yours. Turning your head your eyes widened at the sight of Lord Bridgerton. His eyes equally shocked. You and Anthony each grabbed for the door on your side. Sherlock shut the door firmly almost in your face. – “Sherlock!” – you called out frustrated. – “Mother!” – Anthony shouted at the same time. You turned your head seeing Miss Bridgerton at his side, keeping the door shut just like your brother did.

“Start the carriage!” – Violet called out with a smile. – “Stop the carriage!” – you screamed out wanting to get off. – “Whatever you do, do not stop this carriage till you reach your destination!” – Sherlock made clear to the driver, flipping him a few coins. The driver tipped his hat to Sherlock, signalling the horses to ride off. Anthony and you fell back against the seats as you rode off. With a lot of effort you pulled yourself forwards as the carriage was speeding. Not just a stroll around the park, but almost galloping.

You grabbed for the handle pushing it open as the door swung open. Your body nearly falling over when you stared down at the quick passing gravely road. A pair of hands on your waist. – “Are you insane!?” – Anthony shouted pulling you back inside the carriage. You automatically closed the door once more as your hand was still on the handle. Panting loud you needed a second. – “Did you truly plan on jumping out of a riding carriage just to get away from me?” – Anthony questioned rudely. – “The offer was tempting.” – you responded making him puff loud.

Anthony and you both turned away from each other looking outside of the carriage. It toggled and bumped around as you could barely sit still. – “I cannot believe Sherlock would trick me this much.” – you mumbled under your breath. – “Or mama.” – Anthony breathed out. His head turned slightly to you as you intended the same. Catching each other’s gaze. It locked in tight, unable to look away. In this moment your breathing became heavier. The yearning for him rising up in tide-waves. Each wave more intense than the one before.

Blinking softly it occurred to you what you were doing. How madly in love your eyes must have looked. Anthony reacted the same way pulling away at the same time as you. Both looking away. Taking a deep breath you let yourself slouch back against the seat. – “What is it?” – Anthony asked with care in his voice. No hint of mockery in his tone. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. – “The season will come closer to an end than we expect.” – you told him. – “It won’t be long anymore till I have to say goodbye to it all.”

Anthony was slightly confused with shock. He got up coming to sit in front of you. – “What are you referring to?” – he asked. – “Are… are you…” – he spoke barely able to say it out loud. Something inside of him hoping it wouldn’t be the case. – “No.” – you answered with a shake of your head. Anthony exhaled relieved barely seeable to you. – “I am not engaged my lord or will ever be…” – you went on with a saddened expression. Anthony’s expression full of pity as you reminded him of himself in this moment.

You let your eyes fall onto him. – “Perhaps I have taken all the chances at love that I deserve?” – you told him letting your gaze fall briefly onto his lips. Taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from them. – “It doesn’t matter truly for I won’t be able to escape my aunt’s restrictions.” – you continued as Anthony gaped at you. – “Soon you won’t have any trouble of me anymore, my lord.” – you finished.

“By the end of the season I’ll leave to join my aunt where she will groom me to find a match to her liking. It is what has been agreed between my father and her long ago.” – you explained. Anthony took a deep breath with concern. The carriage came to a stop. The glance in his eyes making you scrunch your eyebrows.

The footman opened the door startling you. The moment interrupted as you got out. There you saw your brother waiting for you. You glared at him, storming over to him. Anthony got out numbly. Almost missing his step and stumbling over his own feet. – “Anthony?” – Violet said seeing the sadness in his eyes. – “Sister?” – Sherlock spoke. – “Don’t!” – you made clear wiping your cheek aggressively. He turned to look confused at Violet. It sure must’ve worked right? They had planned it so thoroughly. Violet smiled faintly back at him, moving Anthony closer to her.

With her arm over his shoulder, Violet and Anthony parted ways from Sherlock and you. Sherlock turned round jogging up to you as you had walked off.  He didn’t dare to ask how it went upon seeing your distressed reaction. Perhaps it was harder than he expected. To be fair he was very known with the stubbornness of the Holmes’s. The two of you arrived at the estate again. The doorman opening the door to you. – “Do not trick me again!” – was the only thing you said with a loud tone. Sherlock swallowed feeling a bit shameful.

You wanted to storm off to your room when Mycroft appeared from out of the Parlor, clearing his throat nervously. Sherlock stretched his hand out, tapping you gently against the elbow to draw your attention. Mycroft delicately closed the door behind him. – “We… we have a situation.” – he said before you heard the familiar voice of your aunt. Your eyes widened looking frightened at Sherlock. – “Have they arrived?” – you heard her shrill voice come from the Parlor.

The door opened as it bumped against Mycroft’s back making him stumble forwards. Your aunt smiled as wrinkles showed around her eyes and mouth. With open arms she made her way over to you. Sherlock stepping aside to leave room for your aunt to give you an uncomfortable hug. – “Look at you!” – she said unsure to you if it was an insult or not. She tilted your chin up, turning it to the side to have a good look of you. – “I should’ve come sooner.” – she mumbled.

“But!” – she clasped her hands together in delight. – “Tell me Y/n have you found a match yet? Has there been a proposal? Should I expect wedding bells?” – she asked vigorously. – “There has not been.” – you told her honestly. – “Why Y/n the end of the season is nearing. Have you been absent from any balls?” – She turned rudely to your brothers. – “Have there been no gentleman’s offerings? Visits? Interests?” – she wanted to know.

“There…” – Mycroft started. – “There is a gentleman interested… is it not Sherlock?” – Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock hoping his little scheme of today would be fruitful. Sherlock cleared his throat. – “In the process.” – he answered nervously. He could see Mycroft sigh disappointed and nervous. – “In the process? Sherlock we cannot wait for the process! Y/n must be married off this season to give this family some stability.” – she responded with diplomacy. – “We understand aunt but…” – Mycroft began as he got cut off by her. – “I don’t think you understand well enough!” – she responded bitsy.

“Y/n is running out of time! You shouldn’t have let it come this far. I will not have my niece turn into a hag.” – she finished off. – “Aunt!” – Sherlock called out with a hateful look in his eyes. – “Do not disrespect her!” – he made clear. She simply huffed. She spun back around to you holding her fingers sternly up to you. – “By the end of the season you will come with me and marry the man I offer you!” – she made clear. – “No!” – Mycroft said coming to stand in between. – “Stand aside boy!” – she answered with a hard stare. – “You had your task and failed miserably.” –

Sherlock came joining his brother’s side, blocking you out of her sight. – “You cannot force her to marry out of diplomacy.” – Sherlock outed. – “Oh but I can.” – she answered. You took a deep breath stepping from behind your brothers. They both shook their head knowing you were about to give in. You moved in front of them, curtsying at your aunt. Your aunt smiled proudly. She took you by the wrist. – “Let us have some tea.” – you got pulled back into the Parlor. The second the door shut grabbed your brother Mycroft for Sherlock’s shirt. – “You told me it would work!” – he called out, shaking him around.

“It should’ve!” – Sherlock answered loudly, pushing his hands off. – “I cannot hold her off any longer Sherlock! Our sister is going to be taken away from us in a matter I do not agree upon.” – Mycroft said. Oh how much his character had grown over the months. From a posh man wanting to have you out of his hands to a caring man fighting for his family. – “I will fix it!” – Sherlock replied. – “How? At this rate I don’t see anything happening in the upcoming five years.” – he sighed out letting himself fall exhaustedly against the wall. – “I will figure it out.” – Sherlock said.

The ball was not to your liking. It felt like a goodbye to everything. It felt like the last thing keeping you close to your roots here in London. No intrigued you to join. Standing at the side you watched how everyone socialised. Taking a deep breath you felt out of place. Having no desire or interest in mingling among the people. Perhaps you had already given up. Given up on the last few chances of finding a match. Of finding someone equally to you. Someone you could see yourself love.

Glancing to your right you saw your brothers near.  They too had a saddened expression. The ball to no interest to them. It pained you to see them knowing of the trouble they went through. Knowing you had a hand to play in this. Perhaps you have been too stubborn. Too much against it and not willingly. Perhaps… perhaps…Looking back at the dancers you saw Colin Bridgerton amongst them. Colin… Bridgerton.

Your mind went instantly to Anthony. Feeling your chest warm up at the simple thought of him. Not so long ago you saw a future with him. Despite the bickering and competitive you still admired him underneath. Secretly loved how he would provoke you. Send you off into frustration and to your boiling point. Oh how much you loved to get so worked up over him.

Yet it wasn’t meant to be. Your stubbornness had won in flying colours. In need of fresh air you got in motion. Your brother Sherlock wanted to go after you, but Mycroft held him back. Shaking his head in speech of letting you have your space. You made your way through the crowd towards the gardens. Brushing past people to reach the other side. Walking out, you were greeted by a soft breeze. The night sky bright. You made your way over to some bush roses.

Looking up to the sky, you were in deep thought. Anthony had found a way outside. Having almost entirely searched the estate in search. Looking thoroughly and with a destined purpose. Every inch around he wanted to have seen. He neared to the rose bushes that were overgrown like a small forest around the estate.

He turned around, leaning back with furrowed brows. There between the rose bushes he saw his purpose. With determination and without a second thought he made his way over. Finally he had a clear view. A clear view of you. You glanced to the side, having spotted a sudden appearance in the corner of your vision.

Anthony neared looking breathlessly at you. – “Do you still plan on to leave with your aunt?” – he questioned with a mournful expression. – “It is what is intended… for me.” – you responded. – “I am apparently made to save my family from ruin.” – you told him. – “You love your family dearly.” – he spoke coming more over to you. You were looking down fumbling a bit with your dress. – “As much as you love yours.” – you told him without a glance. With a deep breath you finally dared yourself to look up.

Struck instantly by his overwhelming gaze. The brightness in his eyes that could light a fire. – “I was fearful of losing you.” – he confessed with a hard swallow. Admitting his feelings so openly to you felt vulnerable. – “That is why I became… after your accident… I couldn’t…” – he slightly shook his head vowing his words to you. You took a deep breath when Anthony neared more. – “I love you.” – he outed.

“I have loved you from the moment you insulted me.” – taking one more step closer to you. – “I have loved you at every dance, on every walk. Every time we have been together and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it or even embrace it but you must know it, in your heart.” – Anthony expressed deeply. He took your hand making you look down at the gesture.

“You must feel it, because I do.” – he pressed his hand onto his chest, staring deeply at you. – “I love you.” – he repeated with all his heart. You scrunched your eyebrow softly at him. – “I don’t not know what to say.” – you told him. – “You don’t have to say anything.” – he answered letting his thumb brush against your hand he was still holding. – “I do not think there is anything else to say… other than I love you too.” – you answered heartily. Anthony exhaled stunned. – “You…” – he breathed out. You lowered your head smiling foolishly at yourself. He looked down taking your other hand in his too.

“I know I am imperfect but I will humble myself before you, because I cannot imagine my life without you and that is why I wish to marry you.” – he spoke with a smile. You returned his smile with one of your own. – “You do know there will not be a day that you shall not vex me.” – you told him teasingly. Anthony let go of your hand allowing his hand to go around your waist to your lower back. – “Is that a promise Y/n Holmes?” – he responded smug. You moved your head closer to his, drawn to him. – “It is a promise.” – you breathed out wanting his lips on yours.

Anthony inhaled deep near your lips, anticipating the moment your lips would touch. – “You are not going anywhere Y/n.” – he whispered to you teasing your lips with the presence of his. You vigorously shook your head moving your hands around his neck. – “I shall not.” – you replied before you forced your lips onto his. An explosion of feelings bursting inside of you. Lips kissing each other with the upmost passion and longing.

Your body being pressed against his, wanting you as deeply as he could. No more you needed to feel saddened. No more you needed to leave. No more you were unloved having finally found your match.

----------------------------------------------

Read more of my fic’s on my Masterlists!

[silly-lil-scribbles]

Introduction post!!

JAILEDD AUFGH

status: owwwwwwwwww cramps :[

lyrics that fit the current vibe: sittin out dances on the wall, trying to forget everything that isnt you im not goin home alone, cuz i dont do too well on my own

current chance of a response if you dm me*: 50%

* does not apply to mousie cuz its my emotional support friend

- My name is Finn! You can also call me scribbles, soup, or really any dumb nickname will do. it/he <3

woah look at that.. its me.. on another website!! slight flash warning for spacehey btw ^^

if you havent read this in a while, i would suggest reading again cuz i update it a lot <3

- faggy but in the most aroace way possible

- as far as gender, boy-ish

- I MADE A JAIL ACCOUNT SO IF IM JAILED I MIGHT BE OVER THERE ‼️ @soup-has-been-imprisoned-noooooo

- I POST ABOUT BUGS A LOT! if you dont wanna see that …. sorry? i always tag if op didnt but just proceed with caution yk

- I post about the magnus archives/protocol and my chem frequently, though I also just reblog a ton of random shit. may be nsfw. Also I forget to tag for spoilers a lot so just know that there are magpod spoilers in general on my blog.

- Music artists I like: mcr, mother mother, lemon demon, will wood, dazey and the scouts, cavetown, fob, nova twins, that handsome devil, noahfinnce, qbomb, gum disease, sparkbird, mischief brew, poppy, be your own pet, pierce the veil, specimen, faetooth, the mechs, rabbitology, scene queen, she/her/hers, femtanyl, leathermouth, baby queen, pansy division, the spook school, egg, the crane wives, of monsters and men, and slutever

overall i just really enjoy punk and emo and dark cabaret

- Shows/Podcasts/Other Media that I like! DANGER DAYSS, Malevolent, The Magnus Archives, Stranger Things, Welcome to Nightvale (though I haven’t finished it yet), the Osemanverse, Nimona, Adventure Time, Gravity Falls, ATLA, LOK, It, Hilda, Camp Here and There, Radio Rental, warrior cats, the silt verses, dead end: paranormal park, the saw franchise,,,, big fan of horror movies in general so id love suggestions, also there’s probably more but my memory is shit

- my blog is super messy so all of my art is under the tag #scribbles draws a thing and my original text posts (not the short personal ones typically, just the one i actually want people to see) are under #scribbles says shit.

- my body hates me very much (in other words im physically disabled)

- surprise, my brain also hates me very much! And yes also undiagnosed!

- tone tags are appreciated <3

- i post a lot! if you left an anon ask please check my #scribbles asks tag if you cant find it, sorry ‘bout that

boundaries n stuff:

- not ok with sexual or romantic comments

- platonic flirting is ok if we’re moots

- feelings on sex fluctuate a lot but im usually pretty indifferent, same for romance but usually averse

continued:

- i have a tmagp fic i just starting writing! If you wanna know more, posts related to that are under #electric desires have unraveled all my wires :(

- I have 4 cats and a dog, also a gecko

- i have a queerplatonic partner!! hes awesome and swaggy and writes so much. so. much writing. wow. not saying wow in a bad way im just genuinely impressed. chou if ur reading this i love you <3

- SURPRISE i have another queerplatonic partner too!!!! its super fun and cool and pathetic /vpos. my favorite excitable soggy cardboard box ilysm <3 (if ur a regular around here im sure ur familiar lol)

- i love them both so much holy shit guys aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

- coyotekin therian !!

- i love bugs!!!!!!!!!!! please show me bugs!!!!!!!!!!!!

- My favorite colors are hot pink, cyan, neon green, and red

- I love interacting with mutuals and getting asks! plspls send me random shit in asks im begging

- I’m creating a cartoon called Catlantis (still in progress)

- I have a love hate relationship with writing but i do it anyways so oh well

- Frogs.

other tags i use a lot are:

#soup poorly draws gay people out of obligation; my series of promised dyhard drawings.

#soup gets pathetic about friendship; me when im a sappy bitch about my friends or partners

#objectives list; save file for when i say im gonna do something so i dont forget about it

#catlantis save; hoarding info for catlantis

#insomnia induced rambles; i cant sleep and im making it your problem

#our lady of sorrows; not the song, my mcr inspired goddess i made up for my dnd character to worship

#scribbles asks; asks

#info save; good to know

#scribbles liveblogging tmagp; exactly what it sounds like

#art save; resources for doing art

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[geesus-christ]

Welcome to the church of geesus Christ

For Ray Toro so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten band mate, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. Revenge 3:16

priests:

@fruityfroggyfelon

followers:

@ireallyliketalldarksultrymen @cultofsheep @rebelrobinrules1984 @nova-the-killjoy @electricguitarhasmyheart @f4y3w00d5 @lina-linalina @xxxsugarcyanidexxx @mikeywayat2005warpedtour @jackeshole @percymcwercy @doingpushupsindrag @undemolitioned-lovers @cyhasanunhealthytgcfobsession @m0thxy @silliest-nuclear-winter @elvirassecretmistrezz @maniacprincessenergy @artistic-scribbles @xxsky-shockxx @emo-crack-cult @the-emo-void-of-space @im-the-son-of-rage-and-lov3 @dicklesssswonder @fayewoods-2/@f4y3w00d5 @undeadzombieez @jamesthedyke @r0cking-r4violi @basment-bunni @cyanide-sodapop @artificalcherryflavor @hyacinthi-mortem @unicornsarereal1980 @fr4nksgr33nt34 @gerardwayyzz @thefatcat-13 @monscrow @maniacprincessenergy @feeble13 @gvmdisease @raine-st0rm @feta-cheese-raviolis

worship leaders:

@faggyv4mpire

🇵🇸free Palestine🇵🇸

[randomratty]

(BACK WITH CHAOS! >:) )

*Nova snuck up behind her and scribbled her fingers on her tummy from behind :3*

AHAhAck-

(Oop/

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter V

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.6K

Beta. @/starstofillmydream

3 Helona

“These symptoms are extreme for this stage of her illness,” Healer Natasha said.

Kazi didn’t respond as she studied her sister. 

Asleep, Daria looked fragile. Easily breakable. Like the glass dolls common in Reformist households on Ceaia. The dolls with unblinking eyes, perfectly plain skin, and rosy lips. 

Sweat glistened on Daria’s forehead. Her breathing was shallow yet slowing, courtesy of the anesthetic med-spike Kazi stabbed her with an hour ago.

The fear in her sister’s eyes—the sheer terror—when Kazi pinned her to the ground was imprinted in her mind. 

It happened so fast. 

Kazi had only just returned from work. Exhausted, she visited Neyti’s empty room to place a new stuffed animal—a space whale—on the pillows. On her way back, she caught sight of Daria in her room, staring at a wall, rocking slightly.

“Daria?” Kazi asked hesitantly. 

Daria flinched. “Where are we?” she whispered. “Why am I here?”

The fear in her sister’s voice moored Kazi to the floor. She was so tired—mentally and physically worn to the bones—that she could only stare at her sister. Confused. Uncomprehending. She took one step forward but Daria collapsed to the floor. Her hands flattened against her ears. Her body curved into a ball. She panted for air. 

It was the sound of her panicked breaths that snapped Kazi into action. She snatched the med-spike from the hallway closet. The medicine had sat there, unused, for months. 

She had never expected to use it.

And she hadn’t expected Daria to start crying, begging, her not to hurt her. 

Scared and unnerved, Kazi stabbed Daria with the med-spike. Her sister fell limp beneath her. 

The only good thing about the situation: Neyti was downstairs sketching, and Commander Fox and trooper Nova were gone, so no one witnessed the ordeal. 

“I thought you said her medicine was supposed to prevent these symptoms.” Kazi faced Healer Natasha, folding her arms across her chest.

After endless appointments with Ceaian healers unwilling to treat Daria, Kazi was relieved to meet Healer Natasha. 

A decade older, Healer Natasha was quick to diagnose Daria, create a treatment plan, and enforce necessary care all within two weeks. The healer was dedicated to Daria’s treatment. Determined to ease her suffering and preserve the stability of her mind for as long as possible. Her kindly personality and patient attentiveness made her respectable and trustworthy.  

However, months ago, Healer Natasha claimed a morning and nightly potion would curb Daria’s symptoms. That severe episodes of forgetfulness and panic were improbable the first fifteen months of the disease’s three-year timeframe.

The disease wasn’t supposed to progress for another eight months. 

“The potions should be working.” Healer Natasha studied Daria’s pulse and scribbled a note onto her datapad. “Their efficacy is tested and proven. There must be something interfering…”

Kazi swallowed a bite of fear. “How much time do you think she has?” 

“Possibly a year.” Kazi blanched and Healer Natasha offered her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I can ease the symptoms as much as possible until the next stage.”

“The next stage is—”

“Loss of memory. I advise moving her to the medical center for 24-hour care.”

“You said Stage Two won’t happen until Telona of next year. At the earliest.” Her heart was beating far too fast, and she swallowed, forcing her breaths to calm. “You said she had at least two years to live from Telona. She’s only been sick for seven months.”

“Daria’s disease is an anomaly, and one we have little information to study,” the healer said gently. “The disease has few similarities across patients and we still don’t know the cause or if it’s curable. I am operating based on what I have researched, but much is left to the unknown.”

Kazi knew all of this—they had talked about it before. But it didn’t make acceptance easier.

Seven months ago, she was working in Ceaia’s capital when she received a comm message from home. Nearly eight years had passed without word from her mother, and she had rarely spoken to Daria in that time. So the comm message shocked her. She didn’t know what to expect.

That night, she quit her job, packed her belongings, and bought a one-way ticket back home. 

The local healer didn’t know how to treat Daria and the few droids available were just as useless. Kazi threw herself into researching Daria’s symptoms, cross-referencing potential illnesses, contacting various healers across the planet and then expanding her search to neighboring systems. She argued her way into consultations with the most renowned healers. 

All of those hours researching, all of those days she spent trying to find a solution, were ultimately futile. The last healer they saw on Ceaia claimed the disease was a progressive destruction of memory and mental functions. There was no cure. 

In private, the healer had advised Kazi to stop wasting her time and monetary resources on her sister. To instead enroll Daria in a 24-hour hospice center. The pity on his face at her immediate refusal still rankled her. 

Through it all—the dozens of consultations and various healers—Daria became more withdrawn. Reclusive and quiet. Kazi assumed it was a combination of shock and grief. 

Their mother was no help. Daria was her pride, and her hope for the future, and Daria’s inability to marry into society left her depressed.

Her hopelessness didn’t matter much since she passed away a few months later. From heart failure. It wasn’t a shock considering she was in her early seventies. She didn’t have Kazi and Daria until her early forties, as Traditionalist and Reformist culture encouraged, and the combined stress of Kazi leaving home at eighteen and the onslaught of Daria’s disease was too much for her to handle.  

Kazi thought their mother’s death would upset Daria. To her surprise, her sister became less morose and reclusive. 

“I don’t have much time,” Daria said one day, her smile forcibly brave, “and I won’t waste it moping.”

Healer Natasha placed a hand on Kazi’s shoulder, her fingers dark brown and scarred. “You should prepare yourself for the possibility that Daria’s illness is progressing at a faster rate.”

“I understand.” Kazi observed Daria’s pallid features. “Thank you for coming by tonight. I know it’s not in your contract—”

“Daria is my only patient. I’m here for her.” Kazi nodded her gratitude while the healer packed her bag. Once her instruments were sequestered away, Healer Natasha straightened, a frown marring her features. “A question, Ms. Lucien: has Daria encountered anything at home that could have increased her stress levels in the past months?”

The last three months zipped through Kazi’s memories, like a holofilm fast-forwarded. The clones’ arrival was the sole anomaly. But had built a rapport with Commanders Cody and Fox, and on some occasions, she even cooked with the former. 

An indicator of high stress probably emerged from—

“We’ve had a few disagreements about the future,” Kazi admitted.

“The future?” Healer Natasha hefted her bag. “Her future?”

“No.” Kazi scrunched her nose. “Mine.”

Healer Natasha nodded in understanding, approaching the bedroom door. “It would be best to avoid stressful conversations as they can exacerbate her symptoms, especially conversations about the future. Patients suffering from terminal disease struggle with both the unknown and the desire for a future. Talks about what you will be doing in a year or two can increase distress.”

Late evening sunshine bespeckled the surrounding jungle when Healer Natasha left. Kazi locked the front door and leaned against the wall, pressing her palms to her eyes. 

Her head felt too heavy. Too full. Like it was stuffed with wet sheep wool and she couldn’t stop it from expanding and thickening. 

Deciding fresh air and the setting sun might ease her headache, Kazi wandered to the sunroom. She expected to find Neyti absorbed in a sketch. Instead, she stumbled on a puzzling sight.  

Outside, Neyti sat among the ferns, a canvas on her lap and a paintbrush in her hand. For a brief moment, Kazi was distracted by the canvas and paints. The ones Commander Cody had gifted Neyti a few days ago. She hadn’t seen Neyti use them before and the sight eased some of her tension. She made a mental note to tell the commander when he returned to the house from his mission. He would appreciate it. 

And then she took in the entire situation, and former elation gave way to exasperation.

Rather than painting, Neyti was scowling, her knuckles white against a paintbrush. Scowling at Commander Fox and trooper Nova.

The clones must have returned from the Marketplace while Kazi was speaking to Healer Natasha. Each carried a bag of groceries, but it was Commander Fox who also held a cup in his hand. He stood a few meters from Neyti and was gesturing to the cup. Behind him, Nova grimaced. 

Commander Fox took a step closer. He started to kneel. 

Eyes narrowed, Neyti brandished her paintbrush and stabbed it in his direction.

“Oh my fucking gods,” Kazi muttered under her breath. 

The commander lifted a hand in surrender, and he slowly lowered the cup to the ground. Neyti swiped at him. Again. Kazi hurried outside.

“Neyti.” The girl blinked at her. Kazi gave her a long look. “We don’t hit people with paintbrushes.” She turned on the commander. “And if she doesn’t want whatever you have, don’t pressure her to accept it.”

Commander Fox shrugged, his casual demeanor forcibly unruffled. “I was going to leave it there and walk away.”

Kazi turned her attention back to Neyti, lifting an eyebrow. Neyti glowered at Commander Fox and then lowered her brush. A frustrated huff spoke her true feelings. 

Sharing a look with Commander Fox—the clone’s mouth pressed in a hard line—Kazi accepted the cup he placed in her hands. Lemony shaved ice filled it to the brim, and she felt herself start to smile as she knelt on the ground. Neyti eyed the cup suspiciously.

“This is a treat,” Kazi explained, spooning a lump of ice.

“I told her that,” the commander said. A distinct line wrinkled between his eyes. “I thought younglings liked dessert.”

“They do.” Nova’s voice was quiet, softer than Commander Fox’s. His hair was longer than any of the three commanders and a yellow tattoo of a rising sun lightened his left cheek. “Guess the problem is you.”

Commander Fox rolled his eyes. 

Ignoring them, Kazi offered the spoonful of ice to Neyti. The girl hesitated. 

“It’s really good, I promise,” she encouraged. 

When Neyti continued to eye the cup, Kazi shrugged, taking a bite for herself. Commander Fox had opted for a simple flavor: lemon with a hint of mint. It wasn’t half bad, though she preferred lemon and lavender. 

“You know,” she said, meeting Neyti’s intrigued gaze, “shaved ice is popular on Ceaia.”

The pointed comment was a theory she had developed the last few weeks, and Neyti’s reaction—her lips parting and former suspicion melting into interest—partially confirmed it. 

Neyti set aside her canvas and paintbrush, and Kazi handed her the cup. Carefully, Neyti spooned a small mouthful of the ice and took a tentative bite. 

Her eyes widened. Fascination, and subtle delight, lit her face. She took another, larger bite.

A quiet, hoarse chuckle emanated from the clone commander, and Neyti stiffened. A disparaging glare darkened her face. To Kazi’s slight amusement, Commander Fox winked. An angry flush darkened Neyti’s face. The little girl shoved herself to her feet, huffed her annoyance in Commander Fox’s direction, and stomped toward the closest tree, collapsing among its knotted roots. 

“Good going,” Nova said. Shoving the commander in the shoulder, he grabbed both bags of groceries and strode into the house.

Commander Fox slid his hands into his trousers’ pockets, watching Neyti. “You have your hands full. With that one and your sister.”

The amusement in his tone—the suggestion behind his comment—made Kazi stiffen. He had no right to judge Neyti and her sister. He had no right to make them his entertainment. 

“Don’t talk about Neyti that way,” she said coldly. “And don’t talk about my sister, either.”

The commander blinked his bemusement. “I wasn’t—”

“I have work to do.” Stepping away, she settled her attention on Neyti. “You should go inside. I think it’s best if you don’t bother her.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw but Commander Fox inclined his head, retreating into the house. 

The moment the back door snapped shut, Kazi grimaced. Maybe she was too quick to judge him. Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at him. And she probably should have thanked him for thinking of Neyti. For buying her a treat. 

But Kazi couldn’t muster the energy to care. To feel ashamed for her behavior. 

Stress had gnawed through her muscles and was now working on her bones, dull teeth steadily eating her away. 

She wondered how long she would last. 

It didn’t matter, really. Once Neyti was adopted and Daria passed away, there would be nothing left to concern her. And no one to know her.

The bluish glow of Eluca’s three moons washed across the first level while Kazi mopped the hardwood floors. Unable to sleep, she thought the repetitive motions would soothe the amalgamated mess of conflicting thoughts pounding inside her head. So far, it hadn’t worked.  

She needed to access the bank codes for Bash. And yet she still didn’t know how to.

She needed to research Daria’s disease and see if there was an explanation for her rapid progression. And yet she knew it was ultimately futile.

She needed to reconvene with the adoption center and confirm Neyti’s application. And yet she had to wait for Neyti’s testing. 

She needed to call a mechanic and get the kitchen fixed—the squeaky drawers, broken cabinets, weak faucet grew more problematic by the day. And yet she couldn’t muster the fucking energy to make one comm call.

The house was dirty. She hadn’t properly cleaned the kitchen, living room, and sunroom in a month, and her bedsheets were unwashed for more than three weeks, and she hadn’t dusted in a long time, and there were crumbs—fucking crumbs—on the kitchen counters because the adults in this house were too lazy to properly clean the fucking counters after a meal. 

Living room floors scrubbed and drying, Kazi made her way to the kitchen. A glance at the chrono heightened her fatigue. 

She closed her eyes, telling herself not to cry. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t. And she despised lack of sleep. Her head felt too heavy to think and her muscles too slow to respond. She would most likely opt out of a swim and then she would miss an important workout and—

Kazi opened an upper cabinet and retrieved the sole bottle of alcohol in the house. A bottle of aged red wine. 

Daria couldn’t drink because of her medicine, and Kazi disliked the lack of control she experienced when she did drink, so alcohol was in short commodity. The bottle of wine she was uncorking was a gift from the neighbor a kilometer away. An older man she hadn’t spoken to since, though she did wave whenever she saw him drive by. 

A short pop and the cork fell away. A regular glass filled to the brim. A dark red unsavory.

At the first mouthful, Kazi nearly spit it out. Gods, she hated wine. Too sweet. Too thick. Too many uncomfortable memories. 

Another mouthful and she closed her eyes. The image of Daria, pale and sweaty, begging not to be hurt, seared her mind. Her eyes flew open. She released a shaky breath.

The urge to run spasmed down her spine. The urge to leave the house, leave her sister and Neyti, and just run. 

Run far away. Away from the responsibility, away from Daria’s suffering.

Kazi stared at the dark wine, its color too reminiscent of blood. Her hand started to shake and she set the glass aside. It was pathetic, but the bloody glass reminded her of her first, and only, time fishing with her father. 

She was five, eager to prove herself a reliable sailing companion. 

They sailed to one of the islands, her father cast a line, and they sat for an hour. Waiting. It was a rare day. The sun peeked through Ceaia’s usually gray clouds, its rays a gregarious warmth. 

Little Kazi had high expectations. For both herself and the experience. 

The line snagged, and she and her father shared an excited grin, reeling in the first catch of the day: a fish longer than her arm and quite fat. She watched her father kneel on the wooden boards. The fish squirmed and struggled. Kazi no longer felt excited. 

Her father raised a long spike. She kept watching the fish try to escape. To return home and live. Her father stabbed the fish in its head.

The sight haunted her nightmares for an entire year.

The fish wriggling. Blood oozing from its scales. The sound of its tail smacking the deck.

It took a long time for the fish to quiet and then still.

Little Kazi sobbed. She sobbed over the pain and suffering of a fucking fish. 

Startled by her reaction, her father abandoned the rest of the trip and they returned home. And so began a life avoiding the signs of pain and suffering. 

More difficult to avoid than Kazi had expected considering her mother owned the local apothecary and served as a healer on most days. She had forced Kazi and Daria to accompany her during busy hours. Daria helped. Eager to ease patients’ suffering. Eager to do good. Kazi stood in the corner, hands pressed to her ears, trembling as she listened to grunts of pain. Screams.

She took to running away. To avoid it all. 

The day her father died, she was ten, and she saw him in the med-center bed. His body was broken; his face was swollen. He had reached for her. His pain was too similar to Daria’s. 

Except his death was different. 

His sudden absence left her shocked and grieving—there was no time to prepare. She had eaten breakfast with him that morning, and he was gone by dinner.

Daria’s illness prolonged her pain and suffering. 

There would come a time when her little sister no longer remembered her. A time when Daria wouldn’t even know her own name. 

And Kazi wasn’t prepared for it. No matter the façade she wore, she wasn’t prepared. 

Swallowing another mouthful of the sweet wine, Kazi drained two-thirds of the glass. She was about to force herself to finish it when the front door banged open.

The glass fell. Its shatter was as loud as a blaster shot in the silence of night. Wine splattered her freshly mopped floors. 

Heart slamming against her chest, Kazi peered around the staircase wall and toward the entryway. A glaring Commander Wolffe followed by a narrow-eyed Commander Cody shadowed the hall. The front door snapped behind them, the lock sliding in place.

The anger emanating from them was palpable enough that Kazi’s stomach dropped. Tension slithered down her spine and she retreated into the middle of the kitchen, the bar serving as a barrier. 

The clones trudged toward the bookcase, Commander Cody offering her a grim nod before disappearing into the basement. Commander Wolffe paused beside the bookcase. He tucked a small, worn notebook into his utility belt and lifted his gaze to hers. 

A blackening blob puffed his right eye. His tetchy expression reminded her of their last conversation a few nights ago. The conversation when he rudely dismissed her. 

Tapping her fingers against the counter, she studied the harsh lines of his face. 

Mouth pressed in a thin line. Shoulders rigid. Jaw clenched painfully tight. 

“Do you want to discuss the intel?” she asked.

It was like poking a shark with a fishing pole—purposeful agitation with the expectation of a reaction. She knew she should ignore him. Clean up the glass and go to bed. However, she wanted to antagonize him. Because he was rude and dismissive and she needed to know why he no longer wanted to share intel. Needed to know why she wasn’t considered good enough for him.

“I told you,” he said, voice taut with restraint, “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why.” 

The commander regarded her. Bored, unfazed by her question.

“I don’t understand you.” She chuffed a sardonic laugh. “You were the one who asked me to work on the intel—”

“I don’t believe you’re capable of handling it.”

Her lips pursed. “I attended one of the most prestigious universities in the Outer Rim. I received not only my first degree in basic analytics, but I received a second and third degree in military and political intelligence. Military analytics is my specialty. I’m more than credentialed to analyze your intelligence. More than you probably are as a soldier.”

Commander Wolffe released a scoff so full of scorn her vision reddened. The commander’s outline blurred at the edges, and she knew she needed to walk away. 

“What’s your problem?” she demanded. 

A moment of silence passed. The commander seemed to be wavering between his two options: engage or back away. His soldiery background must have won out because he squared his shoulders and let the bookcase close. He took a step closer, countenance ornery. 

“My brothers and I are the ones out there. Running missions. Risking our lives,” Commander Wolffe said. His voice was low, strained with a rising rage that set her on edge. “We don’t have room for a shoddy analytic job. We don’t have room for mistakes.” 

“My analyses are not shoddy,” Kazi hissed. “I dedicate time and effort to make sure they’re the most accurate they can be—”

“I know you don’t give a shit about the lives of my brothers. But I do.” He levelled the full weight of his glare on her. A glare full of vitriolic antipathy. “And I won’t put their lives at risk based on your analyses.”

Kazi blinked her shock, straightening her spine. This asshole was questioning her credibility. Questioning her effectiveness at a skillset she had honed for eight years. The skillset she dedicated years of her life to perfecting in order to escape the forced life of demure housewife and child-bearer. 

“I would never put someone’s life at risk.” Heated rage turmoiled beneath her skin, churning hotter and faster. “You have no right to judge my skillset—”

“I reserve every right to question your credibility. These are my brothers at risk—”

“Then why did you ask me for help?” 

“I miscalculated.” He shrugged. “I realize now you’re lacking the quality we need.”

Internally, she flinched, and it took more effort than she cared to admit to keep her features unruffled. His opinion didn’t matter. She knew her skillset was credible and refined, but she couldn’t entirely dissuade the self-doubt it procured. 

“You’re the one who asked me for help, and now all you can do is ridicule my work?” A hollow laugh broke loose. “You’re pathetic.”

Commander Wolffe jerked away, his nostrils flaring and scowl hardening into deep fissures. He took a breath. And then another. Never looking away. 

“Are you going to bring men around here?” The question caught her off guard but she didn’t miss the blatant mistrust and scorn. “I’ll need to know. For security purposes.”

Kazi eyed him for a long moment and then realization crashed into her. 

The commander had overheard her argument with Daria. A good portion of it.

The judgment in his gaze—the expectation that she would risk their operation for a male—was despicable. And it pissed her off even more.

“That’s not a problem you need to worry about.” She fisted her hands at her sides to steady herself, both from the wine blurring her vision and the defensive anger howling to get out. “Instead of worrying about who I spend my time with, maybe you should worry about your own missions. Since they’re clearly ineffective.”

It was a low blow. A punch straight to his ego and she knew it. She relished in his nearly imperceptible flinch. 

“I thought you were running rescue missions, Commander.” She gestured to the empty entryway. “Where are your rescued soldiers?” The taunt was cruel and horrible and she would regret it the moment the conversation ended, but in the moment, she wanted him to hurt. The way she was hurting beneath his criticism of her character. “Maybe if you had an accurate analysis—”

“Shut up.” 

“What? You don’t like hearing the truth? Your missions are pointless and do nothing for the good of the galaxy—”

“I’m rescuing my men. I’m doing something. What the fuck are you doing?”

Commander Wolffe took a step closer to the bar, running his tongue along his teeth. Kazi widened her stance, refusing to balk beneath his hostility. 

“You’re a nobody from a backwater planet that thought it could rebel against the Empire.” The commander leaned across the bar. “What good did that do for your people? For the galaxy?”

Kazi suddenly felt both cold and hot. How he knew about Ceaia, she wasn’t sure, but it threw her off-kilter. An attack on a vulnerability she tried so hard to bury. An attack on the guilt she harbored for her cowardice.

“You wanna talk about doing nothing for the galaxy,” Commander Wolffe growled, “let’s start with you running from your planet. You could have stayed and fought. And instead, you saved yourself—” 

“It would have been a massacre.” Her voice was quiet, underscored by a slight tremble. “Staying would have done nothing—”

He snorted. “You’re a coward.”

“I’m trying to help others. The rebel network—”

“Is an idealistic group of people. They naively believe they can take down the Empire—”

“And is it not naively idealistic to try to rescue clone soldiers from the Empire?” She snickered and the commander stilled, his features stony. “What’s the point? There are hundreds of thousands of clones. You can’t save them all.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” He cocked his head, his sneer belittling. “Your home life is fucked up. You have a kid who doesn’t trust you. Your relationship with your sister is estranged. You’re a shitty sister and even shittier caretaker. And you wouldn’t know the first thing about familial duty.”

The accusation burrowed into her chest and flayed open the encaged emotions she worked tirelessly to repress. Her insides felt cold and tears—from both hurt and self-righteous anger—pressed at the corners of her eyes.

“How can you judge me for my home life when you don’t even understand the meaning of it?” She swallowed, ignoring the blood welling in her palms beneath her fingernails. “You’re a clone. What do you know about familial duty?”

The commander’s upper lip curled. “I have brothers—men I care for. Men I’m trying to save. Every mission I run is for them. What have you done for your family? Nothing.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done for my family. You don’t know what I do for them. You have no right—”

“And you had no right to question me—”

“You’re a paranoid bastard.” A tear eased down her cheek and she furiously wiped it away. “You’re so fucking paranoid because you turned on your own people. Your actions allowed the Empire to rise and the Republic to crumble. And now you expect any and everyone to turn on you because you were the traitor first.”

She was done with this argument. She was so fucking done with him.

“Ridicule the network; ridicule me. I don’t care. But you’re not the selfless hero you believe you are.” Stalking toward the staircase, Kazi threw him a final glare over her shoulder. “If you don’t trust my work—or me—then you can leave.”

Masterlist | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

A/N: This is where the fun begins.

[thesinglesjukebox]

AESPA - "SUPERNOVA"

Not exactly dying stars...

[6.83]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: Aespa aren't rookies anymore, and that comes across. "Supernova" sounds like it could be a SHINee single from 2008–2013, were it on the Matrix soundtrack; it's exactly what I've been hoping for from Aespa since their debut, and it's the first time I've felt like I really get what they've been going for. The synths are scribbly and cosmic simultaneously, and the often lackadaisical vibes of previous releases has been replaced by a maniacal aplomb. There are some shouty bits, as is the current trend, but they're tempered by that uniquely SM tunefulness. and backed up by the controlled and well-tuned performances. Two of our most familiar and beloved SM-associated songwriters are involved -- Kenzie and Dem Jointz -- along with Paris Alexa, who as far as I can tell has her first K-pop production credit here. I would strongly encourage the powers that be at SM to keep working with her!  [9]

Jonathan Bradley: It should be exactly the wrong point in the nostalgia cycle for anyone to be resurrecting the EDM maximalism of LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It,” but aespa’s “Supernova” is satisfyingly gigantic. It launches with a bass thud suitable for a blockbuster movie title card and follows it with bristling bass swells that only avoid sounding out of control because it doesn’t seem possible that they might have been controlled in the first place. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: In the SM catalog, you can trace a song like “Supernova” back to f(x)’s “Red Light.” The problem for me is that despite all the fun elements, there’s no sense of release, no actual ecstasy, no goddamn hook. I’m dragged along for the ride, and it’s just the same self-serious melodies and whirring synths we’ve come to expect. The epicness is tiresome. [3]

Iain Mew: The bass noises revving up like an incomprehensible machine and the group strutting forward with purpose keep everything through to the first post-chorus escalating perfectly. From there they add a lot of stuff that ought to work as thrilling expansions, not least the gorgeous digital rain of synths, but the switch is a bit too hard, too fast. The song loses something without the single-mindedness. [6]

Taylor Alatorre: The smile that crept across my face when the bass-heavy rap breakdown got flipped into a "Planet Rock" sample -- sometimes life's simple pleasures really are all you need. Aside from that moment of dimension-hopping, "Supernova" is fully content to play around in the expansive yet finite limits that it sets for itself, guided only by its mission to recreate the scintillating highs of K-pop's second generation while avoiding the chintzier pratfalls. There's no attempt at transcendence here, and if any shedding of old identities has occurred, it's evident only in the external branding. But why let that stop you from enjoying the way Ningning punches her way through "bring the light of a dying star" as she crests the wave of that brain-tickling synth line? [8]

Ian Mathers: Finally, a song using supernova imagery that actually understands that a supernova is a dying star (to the point of explicitly calling it out in the lyrics). Would love if this were even more crunchy and compressed throughout (you know, really lean into it, like the way the vocal processing sometimes goes a bit wild on "nova"), but this is solid. [7]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: The conceit is frustratingly, exhaustingly executed—intense and bold and shiny but devoid of fun. It’s not a good thing when I have to check whether will.i.am is involved in the production.  [5]

Alfred Soto: Combining Femme Fatale-era Britney Spears elastic electro-boogie and the best of Destiny's Child, "Supernova" fucks with time and space with its bass line alone: the girls could tesseract with it. The illustrative lyrics matter just enough.  [8]

Mark Sinker: Songs about space and robots are always better than songs about love or sex -- wait it's about sex isn't   [9]

Katherine St. Asaph: Adds some playfulness and sonic variation to the long-lost, much-mourned-by-me 2010-11 pop formula -- "Blow," "Till the World Ends," "Bad Romance" -- without sacrificing any of the electrogoth maximalism, nor any tension or explosion. I miss when pop music sounded like this. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: I’m just here so Dem Joints won’t get fined. (Marshawn Lynch voice.) Also Lance Taylor need to stay his freaky ass inside. [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Went from a standard piece of aespan shock-and-awe pop to something altogether sillier and more glorious the second that "Planet Rock"/"Trans-Europe Express" break comes in — as TSJ's longest-tenured aespa defender I feel so vindicated that they've finally figured how to make ten perfectly ridiculous seconds of pop music that they've always deserved. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[fanatichistory]

Scene Prompt 19 pt 5

Part 1 Part2 Part 3 Part 4

This one is full of medical/lab whump! Next part is going to have more of Whumper in it ;D Enjoy!

(Should I give the team names at all? Like Dr. Nova has a name...kinda tempted to name the team members...)

CW: Medical whump, multiple whumpees, needles

Teammate One continued to scream and thrash against the restraints holding them to the gurney. It felt as if their blood was on fire and their skin was peeling off.

The soldiers wheeling them through the hallway were glancing uncomfortably at each other every now and again with Whumper taking up the rear.

"In here." Whumper directed, pointing to the room just ahead.

As they all entered single file through the door, the gurney wheeled between the two soldiers, Dr. Nova looked up from his microscope at the counter and turned to greet them.

"Ah, I see Teammate One is experiencing the enemy's serum…good, good. Place them there." He indicated the open space in front of the monitor and machines.

As the soldiers deposited the gurney with the still screaming and thrashing Teammate One, Whumper stepped up to Dr. Nova and handed over the dart gun.

"For the posterity of your work, you should know that they have two shots in their system. The first one didn't seem to be working effectively. That, or they just tolerated the pain a little to well."

"I saw." Dr. Nova indicated the security feed of the holding cells on his computer. "You simply did not give enough time for it to kick in is all." He drolled, though his tone held the faintest reprimand in it.

Whumper shrugged with an apologetic smile. "I'll leave you to your work, then, Doctor."

Truth be told Teammate One's screams, which hadn't let up yet, were beginning to grate on his ears. Not that Whumper didn't mind screaming in general, but it had already been several minutes now and he was bored.

Dr. Nova merely nodded as they injected something into Whumpee's Iv bag and walked across the large room, picking up the clipboard with Teammate One's notes from his desk, and began looking them over.

Teammate panted heavily, their eyes casting wildly about, their blood still on fire and their skin still feeling like it was peeling off their body layer by layer. Their throat was hoarse as they continued to scream out in agony.

"Yes…they truly manipulated my serum to be absolutely incapacitating…Tell me, what does it feel like?" Dr. Nova gently placed two fingers on Teammate One's pulse to assure themselves that it matched the monitor reading.

"F-f-fire!"

"Interesting. I don't know whether to be impressed by their science division or insulted that my version of the serum was inadequate in some way." They mused mostly to themselves as they scribbled on the clipboard before going to the wall that housed a metal storage rack full of various vials and bottles and chemicals.

Plucking a small bottle from the middle shelf, taking next a few empty vials, Dr. Nova turned to the counter, opening a drawer and pulling out two clean syringes and removed one from the packaging. Their pace was unhurried despite Teammate One's obvious pain and they seemed rather unbothered by the continual screaming.

"This should counter it's effects, but first I need to draw some blood before I can administer it." Placing the instruments on a metal tray, he walked over to where the rolling cart was sitting and placed it on top.

Wheeling it over to their bedside, he picked up the needle and tapped with a finger to find a decent enough vein in their arm.

Teammate One's continued thrashing made it rather difficult, even with the restraints in place, but after a few minutes Dr. Nova was sure he was able to stick the vein as he quietly went about filling up the empty vials with his blood samples.

"Alright, hush now, I probably should have worn ear plugs for this." He mused as he prepared the antidote to the enemy's serum. Hopefully, it worked.

Jabbing it into their bicep he began cleaning up the tray and placing everything back in it's proper place, disposing of the packaging, and placing the blood samples on the counter next to the microscope for further inspection.

Teammate One began to slowly quiet down as the antidote started to take effect. The fire in their veins was beginning to cool finally.

Dr. Nova stood next to their bedside now that the screaming had stopped and they had begun to openly cry. "Walk me through the experience, Teammate One, what did it feel like? Use your words now."

They looked up tiredly, thoroughly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep. But it still felt as if their skin was peeling off, itchy and uncomfortable to a degree they couldn't even begin to describe and it left them in tears.

"Teammate One…speak."

"The f-fire in my veins is-is gone now…" Dr. Nova began to write on the clipboard, shoving their glasses up the nose when it slid down.

"But?"

"My s-skin…it feels wrong. L-Like being peeled…layer by layer." They answered between sobs, their eyes pleading for relief.

"Intriguing to say the least." He responded as he finished his notes, leaving Teammate One as they were. Preparing a slide with a blood sample, he sat at the microscope and raised his glasses to the top of his head to sit out of the way and he leaned over to peer through the lens.

A heartbeat or two go by, Teammate One residing themselves to the fact that their skin with never be comfortable or feel this agonizing from now on as a side effect of the experiment under way.

"My serum was indeed vastly inadequate…this combination of components is markedly inspiring…" Dr. Nova mused, wonder and jealousy lacing his tone as he flicked to different magnifications. "I wonder who concocted this."

Across the room, Whumpee's monitor gave a single beep, alerting Dr. Nova that there was a slight change in rhythm.

It also drew Teammate One's attention as well as he got up to check the machines and make note of the change on the clipboard at the foot of Whumpee's bed.

Whumpee was still injured severely from the other day when Whumper had 'interrogated' them, leaving them multiple broken bones including their ribs, both their legs and one of their arms. It wasn't until after the base was taken over that the team found out that Dr. Nova had requested the broken bones in particular, to test something Teammate One was sure, but apparently Whumper had gotten to enthusiastic that Dr. Nova had to wait until Whumpee was stable enough to even begin.

"H-how is Whumpee?" They dared to ask while simultaneously hoping for information as to what Dr. Nova planned to do with them.

It seemed like the doctor was ignoring them at first as they put the clipboard back and sat at their microscope once more.

"They are recovering just fine. They are stable and resting, though I'm sure that aberration was due to a nightmare of some kind. It is common in subjects who have been through a psychological trauma." He half-answered, turning his back to Teammate One as they resumed their notes on their blood work.

"Interesting…" He murmured aloud, here and there as he continued to work the blood samples.

Teammate One had given up counting the styrofoam tiles on the ceiling and cataloguing every item on the doctors desk. Their skin still hurt and they needed a distraction.

"What is?"

Dr. Nova glanced back over their shoulder with a raised brow. "What I am clearly working on, Teammate One. I know you are still experiencing some adverse effects, the antidote needs some improvement to be sure, but if you would quit interrupting I would be able to manufacture one much sooner for you."

"S-sorry."

"Quite alright…" he turned back to his work, collecting various bottles and vials to bring to his work station as he got to work.

"If you need a distraction try counting sheep."

[estherbean]

Runs in

Uhh uhm uhm .. I’m not mentally sane so

Lee N i want Lee N pls (you can choose the Ler or whatever that may be >:3)

🍦

(I gotchu. Hope you don't mind my dumbass adding me OC Nova :3 ITS A SWITCH BUT IT INCLUDES LEE N I AM SO SORRY-) ___________________________________________________________

Fox Shenanigans!

____________________________________________________________

Storyboard: Nova and N has a bit of a tickle fight >:3 ____________________________________________________________ It started off with N being in the Nightingale home, which Nova was allowed to share her home with the disassembly drones. N was in his room when Nova had busted in with a smile. "Ah- Nova? Do you need anything?" N asked

Nova didn't say anything, but pouncing on him while her fox tail sways behind her. "Nova?!- Whahahat?-" N couldn't keep a straight face while his stomach was targeted by Nova's little fingers that scribbled on it.

"Can't help myself!" Nova smiled and scratched his underarms, making him squeal and kick. "Nohohovahahaha!" "Mhm?" "Stahahahap!" Nova sat ontop of him, thinking for a moment before scratching harder. N bucked and kicked, jerking wildly in fits of laughter and giggles that he almost knocked her off! Nova stopped after a while, hugging her brother with a smile and her tail wagging furiously. N smiled and hugged his little sister.. Nova tries to let go, but she was trapped? "Dear sister.. it's my turn now."

[mysterystarz]

kiss me maybe:

summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss

pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader

word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)

genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours

warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread

a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented

It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical. 

Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling. 

To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish. 

Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories. 

And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography. 

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!) 

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression. 

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury. 

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.” 

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment. 

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction. 

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works. 

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place. 

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.” 

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision. 

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer. 

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you. 

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle. 

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm. 

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.” 

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke. 

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.” 

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.” 

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze. 

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down. 

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat. 

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place. 

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.” 

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?” 

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door. 

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?” 

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.” 

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation. 

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually. 

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!” 

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name. 

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing. 

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice. 

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits. 

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door. 

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.  

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you. 

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills. 

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big. 

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere. 

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad. 

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.” 

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed. 

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.” 

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.” 

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you. 

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in. 

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!” 

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too. 

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks. 

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime. 

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?” 

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?” 

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.” 

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake. 

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash. 

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on. 

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.” 

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.” 

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable. 

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside. 

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake. 

This sucked ass. 

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along. 

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering,  you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when. 

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake. 

You could almost call it picturesque. 

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed. 

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you. 

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk. 

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte. 

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did.  “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.” 

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.” 

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.” 

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again. 

His presence had a way of putting you at ease. 

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you. 

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much. 

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings. 

What could be more human than that? 

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent. 

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.” 

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations. 

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better. 

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space. 

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness. 

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours. 

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out. 

A grand gym and an even grander boy. 

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit. 

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.” 

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.” 

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation. 

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.” 

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?” 

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you. 

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards. 

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.” 

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping. 

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion. 

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.” 

“We always love the extra coverage.” 

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was. 

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.” 

“Not true.” He huffed. 

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.” 

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager. 

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with. 

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.” 

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.” 

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?” 

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.” 

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.” 

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too. 

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean. 

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends. 

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky. 

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset. 

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings. 

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition. 

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it. 

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.” 

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit. 

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?” 

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.” 

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open. 

You weren’t sure what to say. 

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret. 

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper. 

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine. 

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.  

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity. 

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru. 

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face. 

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.” 

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression. 

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.” 

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees. 

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.” 

“It’s been here…?” 

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.” 

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?” 

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.” 

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.” 

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.” 

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.” 

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.” 

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.” 

“Mean. But seriously, why?” 

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless. 

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him. 

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin. 

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.” 

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over. 

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.” 

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually. 

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to. 

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.” 

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.” 

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face. 

The way he looked at you now was like worship. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think. 

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?” 

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours. 

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips. 

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt. 

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you. 

The way he held you was reverent. 

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much. 

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots. 

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up. 

He didn’t kiss and tell after all. 

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.” 

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could. 

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.” 

“Am I not allowed to have good days?” 

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?” 

“With my sets, yes.” 

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.” 

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking. 

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight. 

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him. 

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could. 

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through. 

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride. 

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning. 

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?” 

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.” 

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life. 

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness. 

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness. 

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!” 

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.” 

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you. 

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through. 

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.” 

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?” 

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.” 

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in. 

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully). 

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.” 

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously. 

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.” 

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together. 

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.” 

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.” 

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.” 

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?” 

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her. 

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty. 

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur. 

“When?” 

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you. 

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly. 

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.” 

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing. 

“Shush.” 

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house. 

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.” 

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did. 

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.” 

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.” 

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?” 

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.” 

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest. 

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like. 

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out. 

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.” 

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing. 

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag. 

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever). 

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth. 

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.” 

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside. 

“Wow. How did you know about the name?” 

“I have my sources,” you winked. 

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.” 

“So you do know.” 

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.” 

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you. 

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.” 

“We don’t have to right now.” 

“Thanks Tooru.” 

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.” 

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?” 

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.” 

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes. 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance. 

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” 

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.” 

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“ 

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.” 

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle. 

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.” 

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.” 

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty. 

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively. 

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response. 

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.” 

Correction: something was horrifically wrong. 

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.  

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.” 

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to. 

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment. 

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?” 

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet. 

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.” 

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.” 

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.” 

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant. 

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus. 

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled. 

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame. 

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been. 

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.” 

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?” 

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.” 

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?” 

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.” 

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.” 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room. 

“Je suis fâché.” 

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.” 

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?” 

“Je ne veux pas continuer.” 

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again. 

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now. 

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move. 

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air. 

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth. 

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?” 

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.” 

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.” 

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.” 

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?” 

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you. 

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you. 

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours. 

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this. 

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid. 

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall. 

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point. 

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him). 

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.” 

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up. 

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.” 

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react. 

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it. 

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.” 

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance.  I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.” 

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?” 

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad. 

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?” 

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling. 

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.” 

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile. 

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?” 

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today. 

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign. 

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually. 

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths. 

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop. 

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!” 

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!” 

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands. 

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations. 

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit). 

“This is pretty amazing, huh?” 

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.” 

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?” 

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound 

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.” 

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?” 

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.” 

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?” 

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure. 

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.” 

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool. 

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week. 

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you. 

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself. 

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.  

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa? 

You weren’t sure. 

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass. 

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit. 

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.” 

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money. 

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.” 

You snickered. “Not a chance.” 

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.” 

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row. 

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later. 

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line. 

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?” 

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.” 

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in. 

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands. 

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene. 

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today. 

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range. 

This was intriguing. 

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding. 

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!” 

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.” 

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye. 

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.” 

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand. 

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable. 

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line. 

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line. 

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered. 

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?” 

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.” 

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra. 

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.” 

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand. 

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple. 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress. 

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said. 

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.” 

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins. 

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him. 

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss. 

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you. 

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them. 

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was. 

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands. 

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. 

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession. 

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections. 

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe. 

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!

[whimsicalcotton]

tfw u gotta rescue ur situationship's situationship from freezing to death. call that polycule bonding <3

[metalikkblog]

I posted 1781 times in 2022

1421 posts more than in 2021!

320 posts created (18%)

1461 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/rose12sworld

@/maggy-on-the-run

@/mmm-asbestos

@/seagull-scribbles

@/seagull-laugh

I tagged 1471 of my posts in 2022

Only 17% of my posts had no tags

#metal sonic – 1038 posts

#amy rose – 344 posts

#neo metal sonic – 222 posts

#metamy – 216 posts

#sonic the hedgehog – 84 posts

#organic metal sonic – 80 posts

#surge the tenrec – 70 posts

#white neo – 55 posts

#metal amy – 40 posts

#nova starfields – 29 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#i just want to play my fav series but i guess i'll have to play horizon 5 because there's no alternative on pc

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Metal Sonic in the olympics is just a goofy little boi

See the full post

124 notes - Published August 11, 2022

#4

137 notes - Published January 21, 2022

#3

From Sonic the Hedgehog issue 242.

139 notes - Published March 8, 2022

#2

Metamy sheet!

173 notes - Published May 15, 2022

My #1 post in 2022

Happy valentines!!!

I'm sorry, I don't have anything for today. Wanted to draw something but it just never happened.

So here's a metamy post from twitter.

210 notes - Published February 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ocdandysworldau]

“Welcome to absolute chaos and torture.” —Atlantis

⭐️: Wait- W-What do you mean sis-

🏐: She means chaos Nova-

📦: TORTURE✨✨✨

🌎: yum

🕰️: There is something seriously wrong with all of you

🛸: I did not know I would cause this much chaos-

☀️: I’m just gonna- *skedaddles off to room*

🥐(we needed a churro but close enough): *indistinct chatter*

🫓(we needed a cracker but close enough): *indistinct chatter*

OOC UNDER CUT

Hello! I’m Foxglove, the creator of this blog!

About me:

Nonbinary

Trixic

Minor✨

About this blog:

All these characters (except for the in-game ones) are my friends’ and I’s OCs.

Rules:

1. Even if one OC is flirty with another, DO NOT try to ask ANYTHING NSFW. I am still a minor. Keep your 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 to yourself.

2. Do not claim these OCs as your own. You can make scenarios with them and tag me, but DON’T claim any as your own.

3. You can include your OCs in ask scenarios but try not to have it intrude with the lore. This is my AU, you don’t get to criticize it.

OCs:

⭐️= Nova the star. She is shy and would rather be reading astrology all the time. Family: Astro (Cousin) and Marisol (Cousin) and Atlantis (sister)

🏐= Deltron the Dodgeball. Outgoing and charismatic. He loves to annoy Nova and also is just down bad for her. Family: Dandy (Brother) (DON’T ASK THIS IS MY FRIEND’S OC😭)

📦= Scribble the cardboard box. Chaotic. She likes Marisol

🌎= Axis the globe. Depressed and silly. AroAce. hacker.

🕰️= Aeon the antique clock. Refined and BRITISH- she most likely speaks like characters from hamlet, or literally any Shakespeare book.

🛸= Atlantis the UFO. Chaotic aunt figure to Toodles. Curses out in Spainish. Toodles calls her tia Atlantis. Family: Marisol (cousin) Nova (sister) Astro (cousin)

☀️= Marisol the sun. Silly chaotic outgoing toon. She likes Scribble (Lesbians hehe :3). Family: Nova (cousin) Astro (brother) and Atlantis (Cousin)

🥐= Kassian the churro. Encouraging and charismatic. Boyfriend: Suan

🫓= Suan the cracker. Shy and paranoid. Boyfriend: Kassian.

HAVE FUN WITH THE CHAOS!!!

[bonthebunny-lol]

“..That just helps me ^^”

*Nova giggled and scribbled a little more :3*

S-Swheheheetheart... *He giggled, wrapping his arms around himself*

[thesoulsintheshadows]

*Nova kisses her neck a few times and hugs her while lightly scribbling her fingers on her sides. :3*

*she giggles, becoming a flustered squeaky mess :3*