#tune in next time for more

[priscilla9993]

Interview went well after a long wait and ironically a lot of math. I’ve never felt more out of place than walking into a hole in the wall of a jewelry store. The manager who interviewed me had such sad eyes and crow wrinkles of one who laughed a lot.

Interesting bit: He laughed when he saw how much (really how little) I was asking for, minimum wage or what I’m sure it was. He said, “Be more confident! I’ll put down more for you. No one works for that price anymore.”

I guess he hasn’t been broke in a while or doesn’t know I’m clutching at straws in desperation. Still, I’m glad he was in some way watching out for me, even if it was just an interview he’d send off to HR.

[slavhew]

two guys enter a closet

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

ohhh for the event can I get Vil and prompt 3 with reader as the ghost? ^_^

Words Unsaid; Vil Schoenheit

Content; Gender-neutral reader, angst, pining

Content Warning; Reader death (not described)

Word Count; 700+

A/N; Hi Haru! ... I decided to lean more into angst; I am so sorry Vil.

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

Vil’s hands were shaking, and he tried to make a sound but his voice was caught in his throat. 

His breath came out in white puffs, the Pomefiore lounge had become freezing cold as the fire died out. Dim light from the filtered moonlight cast everything in silver and greys. Long shadows crept across the floor like they were reaching out for him.

Vil.

It was barely audible, but Vil could hear the gentle hiss of his own name whispered into his ear, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He took in a deep breath though, trying to calm his racing heart which betrayed how affected he was by his current circumstances.

He closed his eyes, shutting out everything else and focused solely on what he could hear. And with how on edge he was, he could have heard a pin drop. But he didn’t hear anything. That was the issue, alongside everything else.

Normally he would have been able to hear the muffled snoring of his fellow dorm members, or the gentle ticking of the clock, or even the standard sounds that an older building may make. But he heard nothing. Only the steady thump thump of his heart in his ears.

Vil opened his eyes again, and he stared at the figure that was now standing within arm’s reach of him.

It was you, but not as Vil knew you.

You floated closer towards him, and Vil dared not to move.

Ghost, spectre, phantom. That was what you now were.

But he had seen you that very day. Still very much alive. Still breathing.

“What happened,” he whispered, taking a step forward, trying to close the distance. 

You moved back, and looked him in the eyes as tears fell down your cheeks. And then you vanished, the fire coming back to life, and all the sounds coming back.

Vil raked his hands through his hair, trying to come to some reasonable answer for why you were here, why you were a ghost. And he found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him, coming to a halt at Ramshackle.

He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again and called your name. But all he was answered with was silence, and a sense of dread taking hold.

Please forgive me.

He knocked the door down with his magic, and made his way into the house. Vil looked in every room of the mansion, but all he found was dust; even Grim was nowhere to be seen.

This is a nightmare— No it isn’t, you know that. But how he wanted this to be nothing more than just a simple nightmare. If only it were as easy as that.

His breath came out in white puffs again, and everything stilled like time itself was frozen.

“Please,” Vil could barely recognize his own voice, desperation was something he was not well acquainted with, “tell me.”

You stayed out of sight though and stared at Vil, wanting nothing more than to embrace him. To feel his warmth one more time. To tell him something that had been weighing heavy on your chest for months.

You never had the chance, always being pulled in every which way or dealing with one problem or another. And now? 

… it would not serve either of you any good. It would only cause more heartbreak, a tragedy that belonged in a play really, instead of reality.

Vil clenched his fist and rolled back his shoulders, “You’re still here, so you have something left that must be important. Let me help you.”

Something left, was in fact, someone.

Vil had always been outside of your reach, a star high up in the sky, and that distance was now further than ever.

That’s why you said nothing of your own feelings about him.

That’s why you said nothing, leaving the words unsaid.

“You can’t. Please, forget about me.”

Vil wouldn’t forget you. He would never forget about you, the person that he could be his entire self around.

Perhaps it was friendship, but something that screamed from his chest that it wasn’t.

And he would never get the chance to see what could be.

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @ithseem @moonsoup01637 @lucid-stories @syrenkitsune @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[eikichi-supremacy]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[nightskylonging]

[meamiiikiii]

[reverse entry AU]

so glad the work week is over!

no more meetings!

what do you mean its only tuesday.

[levemetal]

Nine of swords

Will I make a full watercolor tarot set for svsss on a whim? Who knows. Tune in next time for random experimental mediocre art.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[h-didanart]

I MADE IT

CHARACTER REF SHEETS

FINALLY I CAN SHARE THESE GUYS PROPERLY

:D

*ahem* Hello fellow fans and au makers! I am here to showcase my silly little au. Allow me to introduce you to our main characters:

These are Sunset and Moonlight, from The Sunset and Moonlight show! Close ups and info dump below

Where to start where to start, okay, a general description of the AU should be good to start with yeah? Yeah

This is a swap au, but unlike what I usually see swap AUs do, this is less of a full personality swap and more of a ‘bend the characters to a point where they change roles’ thing.

NOW. THE CHARACTERS THEMSELVES—

Sunset Rays Celestial-

Sun is a tired and apathetic guy. He would like to be left all alone in his room for the rest of his days, but that’s not really a good thing so he’s fine just living a calm and drama-free life.

His hobbies include cleaning, painting, sewing, and gaming. The cleaning has gotten embedded into his code to a concerning degree, he will clean a spot over and over for hours if he’s having a bad day. He got into art while he was undergoing “repairs”, he found painting to be a fun activity despite its messiness, and sewing has proven to be fruitful for his wardrobe. He’s gotten so good at these that he actually gets commissions and is paid very well. He prefers to draw with pastels and markers when he can. The video games are a shared hobby with his twin brother, Moon, they both play together sometimes. His favorite game is Cult of the Lamb.

He has a malfunction of sorts where his voice box will give out randomly and he’ll be unable to talk. It’s annoying but he doesn’t really mind, he has gotten really good at sign language from it. Plus, he uses it as an excuse to avoid talking to Moon whenever he gets the chance to.

The Computer absolutely hates his guts and has sent him off to various different dimensions. He’s acquainted with quite a few people and even has friends.

He has very good aim, both in video games and physically. He usually uses it to throw something at Moon to get his attention. Or to get him to leave him alone. Or to annoy him. Or just because. This has proved to be a really bad habit.

Despite being generally apathetic, he’s actually pretty good with emotions, being able to read them well on others and act accordingly.

He also knows magic.

Crescent Moonlight Celestial-

Moon is an energetic and nervous guy. He wants nothing more than to live happily with his brother. And do science, he’s a nerd.

His hobbies include science and gaming. On the side of science he specializes on robotics, programming, and inter dimensional studies, with some advanced physics as well. He’s a genius, basically. Gaming is a shared hobby between him and his twin brother, they both play together sometimes. He seems to have taken a liking to the Kingdom Hearts series, but Pokémon will forever have his heart.

The killing code is very much still in him, it manifests as heat on the back of his head and irritability. During a full kill code episode he’ll be extremely aggressive, on top of having increased physical capabilities and virtually no filter. He dreads having those and constantly checks his temperature. Independent from the kill code he has a bad temper.

He isn’t exactly a ‘people’s person’ yet due to having been the active Daycare Attendant for a few months he has grown acquainted with a few of the Pizzaplex animatronics. Montgomery took a liking to him. Because money.

Because of reasons he has a lot of bunkers on a lot of different parts of the world. He remembers them all thanks to the collection of tree branches he has picked up when he visited. These are jokingly called The Whacking Sticks (and is a genuine joke, he just likes collecting sticks)

He wanted to learn emotions better so he decided to find the code that controls emotions in himself and turned it on all the way. He’s starting to realize this wasn’t a good idea.

A master acrobat, he loves flying with the wire.

In case it wasn’t clear yet, Sun and Moon switch places in this au. Things may change, and I may come up with funny details later, but I hope you had fun reading this little introduction to my au

More stuff about them to come at some point!

[thegreatyin]

oh, so when other people indulge in their special interests and find joy in their hobbies it's "joyful" and "whimsical" and "autism swag", but when i, mr veils,

[thaylepo]

hubris

I've been super into repotting all my propogating houseplants and growing seeds from grocery store fruit for shits and giggles this summer.

Pictured are my many lil jade plant babies, my red currant tree that has survived and regrown from someone (not me) putting it into a storage unit for winter while it was still green and leafing (pro tip: make sure ppl caring for your potted trees while you are off in a different town for college know not to heckin do that), and my lil baby dragonfruit cacti in their Humidity Bins because it is dry as a popcorn fart where I live.

(Another pro tip: don't forget to open the bins, as pictured properly here, when placing them outside in the morning sun for some good good UV -- this avoids literally steam-cooking your poor innocent baby cacti. That one's on me. I won't show you a pic of the resulting carnage, but suffice to say about half survived. Luckily dragonfruit seeds are super easy to germinate like this and can be bought in the literal thousands for the low low price of 7.99 per a single fruit at safeway.)

But by far the most consequential of this summer's fucking around and finding out is this:

Context: So the downstairs bathroom where I live has a dried flower arrangement in it (i live with a lady in her 60s, it is her house). Said flower arrangement includes these:

(apologies to anyone with trypophobia.)

These are lotus seed pods, for those who do nor know. Large ones. These ones are only a bit smaller than the palm of my hand, and they come from this flower:

(Unsourced pinterest photo with live human being for scale. Note the corresponding palm-sized seed pods.)

Five days ago I found one of the seeds from these pods on the bathroom floor, idly looked up some how-to instructions, and I think you have all you need to put the rest of this story together.

After only two days in water, I was forced to confront what I, primarily a succulant and cactus grower, might have gotten myself into.

Some people are born great, some acheive greatness, and others fuck around with seeds from a tropical water plant that have been known to still germinate after 200 years without thinking of what exactly they'll do if it actually grows, and find themselves unprepared for the responsibility of what will become the water-garden version of Jack's fucking beanstalk.

I'm naming it Audrey II. Updates will follow.

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 2

after god knows how long (months tho tbh), i am happy to present: hobie1610 part dos! In this installment, we see how Miles eventually rounds right back to Hobie Jones to apologize after pt. 1's gigantic blunder

hope y'all enjoy! :)

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 3 here<

It was several weeks into the first semester-- with winter just right around the corner-- before Miles finally got around to confronting the little Hobie Problem that he had.

Being laden with pounds upon pounds of assignments to get done before the holidays and then trying to keep up with Spiderman duties on top of it all, managing his parents’ overwhelming expectations once again, and trying to survive as a teenager in general forced his first day blunder onto the back burner for much longer than Miles would have liked.

Sure, his anxiety is a bitch sometimes, and it holds him back from directly addressing a lot of issues in his life, but Rio didn’t raise any neanderthal. Miles knew that when he messed up, he messed up.

Problem is, every time he’s tempted to just reach a hand out to his dimension’s Hobie Br-- Jones, pat his shoulder lightly, pull him into a corner somewhere during lunch maybe, and finally man up and apologize… that’s when some crook starts some problems downtown, or some mad scientist finally snaps somewhere and starts to wreak havoc with crazy gadgets a bit too unnervingly close to his neighborhood.

Or Miles gets back to his dorm room and sees that he has an assignment due the very next day that he hasn’t even had the chance to hop on yet, because of aforementioned crooks and mad scientists.

It was all driving him crazy.

And so now here he was, up on a rooftop in the middle of a chilly fall day, hanging out with his inter-dimensional besties (who he lightheartedly calls the Spider Squad but he hasn’t quite brought that up to them yet).

They were on a lunch break after pummeling and restraining some prisoners-- who somehow got out of the Raft-- that tried to make their way across the Brooklyn Bridge. Miles sure appreciated the help, which was one of the many positives of letting Hobie Brown make dimension watches for everyone, mostly so they could all help another Spider shoulder the burdens that usually befell them.

But the teens-- being teens, of course-- also used their watches to just pop into an open portal and hang out with each other as often as they could. Who could blame them? Being a superhero and a kid was overwhelming most of the time. Sometimes they needed a listening ear or a supportive shoulder to cry on every now and then, and getting the opportunity to chill and explore a whole new world for them was always a thrill.

(Miles himself could never deny the excitement of getting to go to Mumbattan for shopping trips every so often, either.)

So with all of that in mind it was tempting to, after seeing the long and lanky punk Spiderman climb through his own multi-colored portal, ask Hobie if he could go back to New London with him. He needed to get something off of his chest.

Hobie, languidly as ever, hikes a skinny shoulder up in a nonchalant shrug and goes “ye’ sure, mate. Somethin’ up, or?”

Pavitr leans forward from his conversation with Gwen-- the little snoop, goddamnit-- and swallows a particularly big bite of his sandwich. “Oooooh, Miles and Hobie? Alone, in New London? Wow!” He elbows Gwen, who shakes her head and snorts into her bottled juice.

Miles puffs up. “Hey, it’s not like that! We just need to talk. In private. Nothing’s wrong, I uh… I just need some advice. That’s all!”

Hobie’s grin is full of teeth. “Waidaminnit. Miles Morales... Thee Great Miles Morales, needin’ my advice? Interesting!” His freeform locs bob and wiggle teasingly with every movement of his head.

Feeling put on the spot, Miles pouts as he picks at some lint on his spider suit and finishes off his soda as quickly as he can manage.

Gwen, bless her heart, notices his discomfort and scooches closer to him on the rooftop ledge. “… Is everything alright, by the way? It isn’t anything bad, is it?”

Miles glances at her before returning his gaze to the concrete several stories below. “Uhm, nah. Nah, it’s… y’know, it’s just more inter-dimensional weirdness. But I’m sure I can fix it. I think,”

He then shoots her a grateful smile for her considerate check-in, and pulls his mask back down over the lower half of his face. Gwen understands this as his “I’ll be back for another check-in later,” behavior and simply nods back. She knows not to push him.

“Well,” Hobie unfolds himself from his position on some scaffolding on the side of building, straightening himself up to his full height and stretching, “I’m all finished, then. Prob'ly not a good idea to go swingin’ on full stomachs, though. Let’s take a quick walk before headin’ home, yeah?”

Miles grabs Hobie’s hand and helps him hoist himself up over the ledge, and the teens all gather their trash into one plastic bag together. They chatter and slip their masks on as they casually walk down the side of the half-constructed building, finally touching down onto the concrete alleyways and relishing the quiet of an empty block before heading to the congested streets of downtown Brooklyn.

They all eventually bid each other their farewells after a few quick photo ops from excited New Yorkers, but of course not before Pavitr leans into Miles’ ear conspiratorially and whispers: “Let me know how it goes, bro! Good luck!”

Pav punches Miles on the shoulder lightly and winks at him, then he does a backflip into his golden-bright portal and blinks out of existence.

Miles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Does he want me and Hobie to be together, or me and you? I can never tell with that guy,” he groans at Gwen, whose shoulders are shaking with badly-concealed laughter.

“I think he just watches too many of those soap operas, honestly. Trashy daytime TV will do that to a guy sometimes.” She quips just as humorlessly.

Miles gives her a sidelong glance and a smirk. “Right. Rots your brain. Poor Pav!”

Gwen and Hobie laugh at that as Gwen pulls up her own portal.

“I’m thinkin’ we need t’ stage an intervention, really.” Hobie adds.

“Yes, and soon,” Miles points out.

“I’ll see what I can do to pull him away from those shows, but you know how his aunt is,” Gwen snorts. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Pav is just a huge romantic anyways, soaps or no soaps.”

“When I’ve got relationship issues, I guess I know the guy to go to, then,” Miles shrugs, then throws Gwen a casual salute goodbye.

She stands in front of white and multi-colored splotches of watercolor floating out from her dimensional portal as she salutes Miles back, giving Hobie a quick wave. “Let me know how your little inter-dimensional weirdness problem goes too, Miles! Talk to us in the groupchat every once in a while!”

And like that, she’s gone.

So now Hobie and Miles were left alone together.

Standing in the middle of a dirty alleyway on a cold autumn afternoon wasn’t Miles’ exact definition of a good time, though… why wasn’t Hobie opening his own portal right now? Miles turns his mask’s gigantic white eyes up to his dimensional variant (and boy was that a weird thing to think about when Hobie brought that up one day during a Spider Sleepover at Gwen’s) and gives him a pointed stare.

Hobie’s own painted eyes meet his.

“So…” Miles says.

“So…” Hobie says, his grin evident in his voice.

“Are we or are we not going back to yours?” Miles stuck his fists on his hips impatiently.

“First,” Hobie says as he holds up a long skinny finger, “I gotta know what this is about. ‘Cause we all know you, Miles. I don’t wanna enable any avoidant behaviors, mate. You know how it is.”

“What?!” Miles throws up his hands in the air. “Dude! SO not cool! You are not my dad.”

Hobie shakes his head. “You know I’m right, though. This ain’t about your parents, is it?”

Goddamn Hobie and his parental instincts. When is this guy ever going to get off of mom duty?

Miles huffs. “No, Hobie. It’s not. Look. I just, uh… if you don’t wanna go back to your dimension, then can we get away from like… this area in general, please?”

Hobie hummed in thought, then shrugged and shot a web up to a nearby street lamp. Together, the two Spidermen swung through the concrete jungle that was earth-1610’s New York City until they ended up somewhere near the Financial District in Manhattan, happening upon a sort of indoor rooftop terrace party that a bunch of corporate yuppie-looking people were enjoying behind giant glass windows. A few of those yuppies were out onto the actual rooftop smoking and talking amongst themselves in the cold while the party bumped along behind them.

The sun was setting quickly, and darkness descended upon both Spiderman as they scaled a nearby building and sat on a water tank to secretly watch the party from a little ways away. Miles took solace in the dark most times, and drank up the view of what few stars could be seen in the New York City skyline.

The clouds were scarce on this particular fall evening, so the red and yellow hues on the horizon were completely uninterrupted. Miles’ dimension took on an almost ethereal glow sometimes, and during this time of day, he was more than grateful for it.

Hobie was silent as he watched the sun set alongside Miles, until the entire city was enshrouded in darkness and the stars of the cosmos seemed to have fallen from the heavens and landed right onto the buildings and bridges laid out all before them. Lights from cars making their nightly rounds and tall buildings glittered all around them, and just beyond the skyscrapers, bits of the Upper Bay could be seen shimmering and reflecting the glittery light right back.

It was breathtaking. Beautiful.

But time was running out. They couldn’t sit here and watch the scenery and the people from several hundred feet away forever. Miles also knew Hobie had stuff to deal with in his own world, a million miles away from anything he could ever know. With a world-weary sigh, Miles finally takes his mask off fully and winds it up and around his hands, over and over.

“Your problem botherin’ you that much, Mi?” Hobie grins at his friend, taking his own mask off and running a hand through his locs.

“It’s just… I…” Miles chews on the inside of his cheek, wondering how to proceed.

It really was a weird problem to have, all things considered. There aren't many instances where someone pisses off a dimensional variant of their friend, and they have another version of that very same friend right by their side to ask how to even go about fixing the rift they caused in the first place.

“It’s just that I... like… I messed up pretty badly, right? And I know it’s totally my fault,” Miles is speaking quickly now, bottled up words now spilling forth like water, “but my anxiety started spiking up randomly out of nowhere and I just blew it, man. I wasn’t really thinking. Well, actually, I was. I was overthinking but I didn’t really mean to leave this guy hanging for so long afterwards and--”

Hobie throws a leg over his other one, propping himself onto an arm and leaning back to face Miles. “Okay. Okay, Miles, that’s cool. Thanks for the disclaimer, bruv, but we’re gonna have to start from the beginning.” He chuckles.

Miles laughs nervously. “Right, right. Yeah,” he takes a breath, licks his lips and tries again.

“So… on my first day of school I bumped into… you. I mean, not you, I mean like my dimension’s version of you.”

Hobie raised a pierced brow. “Wait, there’s another me here, too?”

“Yeah, yeah and I just almost crashed right into-- wait.” Miles’ brain took a second to buffer. “What do you mean too?”

“Ehhh, we found another me in some odd dimension or another. Y’know, like, one of those ones we don’t go to often. It was whatever,” Hobie shrugs casually.

Miles had a couple of questions about that but he decided to stick to the topic and not get distracted for now. “... Right, cool. So yeah, I almost crashed into you at Visions, except it wasn’t you.”

Hobie nodded. “You almost crashed into Not Me. Got it.”

“… Because I was late for class and not really, uh, thinking. Like at all. But it was you, you know what I mean? Not You is super bad at directions and navigating buildings, I guess, so I helped him out. Annddd I guess he wanted to be my friend afterwards, but.”

“Mhmm,” Hobie hums, in a tone that sounded a lot like him saying go on, then.

“Did you, uh… did you know your name is Jones sometimes?” Miles scratches at his ear awkwardly. “Hobie Jones, not Hobie Brown. It was weird when I found out, because another student said his full name and so that’s how I found out in the first place,”

Hobie inhales. “Hmm! Interesting. Dunno that I like the sound of that, if we’re gonna be honest here. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue the same, I think. But alright. Why’s that so important?”

“Uhhh,”

Hm. Shit. This was the part Miles dreaded getting to in the first place.

How was he going to put into words the weird dread that befell him upon learning that this Jones character might very well be this dimension’s version of his MJ? How could he possibly explain the thrilling electricity that races up and down his spine everytime he totally does not think about dating, kissing, possibly even having children with this other Hobie? How was he going to get that across to this super-cool, super-hot, super-put-together version of him?

Speaking those kinds of words out loud right to Hobie’s chiseled face made Miles slightly nauseous. He opted to circumnavigate that little problem altogether.

“Listen, don’t ask, okay? Seriously, man, I’m not playin’. Buuuut… if I pissed you off real bad, how would. Like, how could I make it up to you, theoretically speaking?”

Hobie exhaled a laugh. Miles could see his bright grin even in the low lighting of the night. “Huh? How’d you go from helpin’ Not Me out to pissin’ ‘im off all of the sudden? We’re missin' a step there, Milesie. C’mon now,”

Miles laughed too. “Ho-biieee, I already told you, man!” He hated how whiny he sounded, but this really wasn’t the time. “You cannot ask me about it!”

Hobie tossed his head like a horse. “Oh my god, mate. I can’t give ya solid advice when I don’t even know what the hell I’m givin’ advice for. I gotta know what happened, bruv, what’d ya do?”

“Just--! Ugh,” Miles deflated. “I maybe sorta... ditched him all of a sudden. Like, out of nowhere. When he, uh, when he needed me.”

Hobie’s glittering eyes bore holes into Miles’ hot face. “Mhmm? Why for?”

“Hobie, for the love of all that is good in the world, just--! Throw me a bone, here, man. I am dying of embarrassment right now!” He buried his face in his hands as Hobie rocked back with laughter.

“Why’d ya ditch ‘im?! That doesn’t sound like ya, Mi. Sounds like a real wick thing, but not a Morales thing to do. C’mon, what did Not Me say to you? You can pretend I’m him and I’ll apologize an’ everything.”

“No no no no, Hobie you don’t get it,” Miles sighed. “He didn’t do or say anything. That’s the thing. I just… I freaked out I guess, when I looked up his name and saw that he was a super accomplished model and everything. He’s got thousands of followers on Flickstagram, even. But I just…! I dunno what my brain was doing to me, once I saw that. I guess I just had a mini panic attack and just… bounced. Then, obviously I had tons of homework and Spiderman stuff to deal with, so ever since then, we’ve just been avoiding each other in the halls and I haven’t had any time to even tell him anything. I really messed up, man.”

Hobie was unnervingly silent as he thought for a good minute. The night had really fallen thick onto the city and the temperatures were dropping fast. Miles could barely see his own breath clouding in front of him or even Hobie’s face now that the darkness completely enshrouded them both, and it made him a little nervous.

“So…” Miles prodded carefully.

“Super accomplished model and everything, eh?” Hobie quietly asked after a little while. Miles couldn’t see Hobie’s expression, but he could hear the rhythmic rubbing of fabric against fabric as Hobie rubbed at his arm with a gloved hand.

“Uhhyup.” Miles confirmed.

“Hm. Utterly fascinated now, mate. Tell me more about this other me, then. He cool like me, or a total neurotic space cadet?”

Miles rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I can’t tell you much. We haven’t gotten to talk much. I guess you can be the judge, here’s his social media here...”

He then pulls his phone out of a recently-added pocket he found the time to sew onto his suit, taking inspiration from his mother’s own yoga leggings that she got as a birthday gift a few months before. The fact that spandex was able to hold so much but still stay so snug against your body was nothing short of a modern miracle, in Miles’ opinion. He was grateful for it now as he unlocked his phone and tapped on Hobie M. Jones’ page right out of the search history on his phone’s Flickstagram app.

Once he hands his phone to his friend, he has to resist the urge to suck in a breath as he watches the bright light from his screen illuminate Hobie’s features in ways he’s never seen before.

Hobie takes a second to scroll for a bit and Miles watches as the light plays across his features with just a bit more rapt attention than he normally would. Must be getting late, and Miles’ brain has historically been known not to work very well when he was tired.

Then, Hobie handed the phone back to Miles and folded his arms across his knees.

“Interesting, interesting,” was all he muttered. Thankfully, he did not comment on the “M. Jones” part of the username.

Miles tried lightening the mood. “Let me guess. You hate him because he’s not a fascist-fighting punk like you, huh.”

“I can’t be th’ judge of that, Miles. You know social media ain’t real life, and all that just looked like his portfolio to me, if we’re gonna be honest.” He checked his spiked bracelet in the light of Miles’ lit up screen. “I think that this other me doesn’t really feel too comfortable openin’ up and lettin’ other people see who he really is, though. So if you do go off an’ apologize to ‘im, I don’t think it’ll be very easy to gain his trust back.”

“Hold on,” Miles shakes his head and tucks his phone away again. “You got all that from looking at his Flicksta for not even a minute? How do you even know all of that?”

“’Cause he’s me, bruv. I know that look on his face, on those candids. Even them professional shots look… like, well, I dunno how t’ explain it. I guess it’s just sort of like--”

“If you know, you know?” Miles puts in.

“Mm,” Hobie smiles and nods. “Yep. That. He’s… withdrawn. Held back. I ‘unno… doesn’t seem like he has many friends.”

Miles sits back to think about the distant and carefully-put together mask that Hobie Jones slipped onto his face back when an annoying student butted into their conversation just before 2nd period that fateful day. Not to mention how famous he seemed, that the whole school wanted to pull him into a million different directions just for some selfies and autographs in general…

“He’s famous. He has a billboard up near the school, even,” Miles says without thinking.

“That explains it, then.”

Miles thought aloud for a bit. “He told me that I was the only person in the world who didn’t look at him like he was made out of solid gold. Hmmm,”

“Right then. That’s a start, eh?”

Miles sighed. “I-if… if someone who you thought could be like, your only friend in the whole world. Your only real friend… if that person abandoned you out of nowhere, with no explanation… how would I go about making it up to you?”

Hobie doesn’t comment on the phrasing of that question, either. He lays a warm hand on Miles’ cold shoulder and squeezes.

“Listen, Mi. You’re real special, you already know that. If he liked ya enough to wanna be your friend the very same day you two met, then I bet you can come up with somethin’ that’ll stick eventually. That being said… a little food ain’t never hurt no one.”

They stare at each other in the dark for a second.

“Uh, what?” Miles asks.

“Y’know. Like a peace offering. Bring ‘im a peace offering, make your apology, and then leave the poor kid alone. Let ‘im sorta… well, let ‘im kinda just chase you a little bit, right?”

Miles’ brow was raised high now. “What, like. Just leave some food and a note for him at lunch or something? Dude, that is so lame!”

“It’s about the mystique, mate. Trust me. Gotta keep the intrigue up, don’t crowd him too much or else you’ll scare man away, right? I hate when people grovel at my feet if I’m gonna be dead honest with ya. Don’t make too much of a big deal of it, and he just might forgive ya. You two'll be holdin' hands in no time,”

“Is that it? Is it really that easy?” Miles was skeptical.

Hobie shrugs and removes his hand from Miles’ shoulder. “Hell if I know, but if he’s anything like me, it just might work. Just be prepared to take it on the chin if he doesn’t forgive you in the end, though. Gettin’ ditched like that with no warning’s a bit hard on someone who’s never had any friends to lean on in the first place.”

Made sense to Miles. He shrugged, nodded, and then had only one question left to ask.

“… Cool. Got it. So, uh. What kinda food do you like, anyways?”

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

And that was how Miles ended up making a quick run (swing, really) over to his favorite Jamaican store for a dinner plate with some beef patties thrown in during the next day’s lunch period.

He couldn’t afford to be seen by security, so he suited up at his usual place on the rooftop of the school and sailed down to retrieve his peace offering as quickly as he could before lunch was over.

What luck, that he had the same lunch as Hobie Jones! Made this whole run a pretty easy thing to do at all, which was always a bonus.

Once he made his way back to the school, he hurriedly stuffed his mask back into his bag and practically jumped back into his uniform, not even taking the time to stop and check if his suit was properly hidden. No time for that, when the period was almost over and he hadn’t even gotten a bite to eat for himself.

Miles also took the time to write up what he hoped was a sufficiently appropriate apology note the previous night after getting back to his dorm room at a late hour, and he tucked that into the crinkled paper bag as carefully as he could manage. A grease-stained apology note was definitely not a cool thing to receive, especially from someone who wronged you out of nowhere and wasn’t even man enough to say that apology to your face.

He arranged everything as best he could while flying down several flights of stairs down to the cafeteria.

Once Miles pushes past the double doors into the large cafeteria area, he feels the tightness in his chest and the heat radiating from his gut outwards intensify more as he gets closer to his target.

It takes a bit of wandering to finally spot Hobie, but then Miles sees him: sat at a table near the center of the room. He’s surrounded by a bunch of fake friends all talking loudly over one another and trading phones over their meals. Hobie Jones himself looks forlorn even when in the middle of a group, surrounded on all sides by bodies he doesn’t even look directly at, even when he turns his head slightly to speak to them.

Well, shit.

Miles was not expecting Hobie to have fallen into so large a group of friends so soon. He spotted the same girl who pulled him aside for a selfie that one time sat at the same table, and her and her little posse were just gossiping loudly about any and everyone.

Miles found his feet stuck to the floor upon finally laying eyes on the scene.

Ugh. God. A bunch of preps poking their noses into his and Hobie’s business while probably begging to read the very private note that Miles wrote for him was absolutely not anywhere in his list of things he’d like to experience today.

So Miles did a sudden about-face and walked away quickly, before he was even spotted.

Plan B was set in motion, then: give the bag over to Hobie before the next period.

Miles always dreaded the class he and Hobie shared right after lunch. The awkwardness subsided after a while, since it was kinda hard to feel so bad about The Incident when the entire class had to cram for quizzes and do research for essays, but the pit in Miles’ stomach as he purposefully averted his gaze away from that corner of the room was never easy to ignore.

But now, after weeks of gloom and doom, Miles found himself actually being excited for the bell to ring. He quietly made his way upstairs to the top level and slipped into the classroom as gracefully as he could manage.

Sure, he was nervous as hell about it all, at the end of the day. But he wanted this little problem that’s been put away for far too long to just… finally be done and over with. If for nothing else, he just wanted one less student at Visions hating his guts, really.

He placed the paper bag onto Hobie’s chair and scooted it underneath the desk to hide it from the rest of the classroom. The last thing he needed was some other nosy student swiping it up and rifling through the contents before Hobie could see it.

Miles ate part of his sandwich in the peace and quiet of the classroom, enjoying what precious little minutes he had until the bell rang and everyone-- including the teacher-- filed in to start the class’s lessons of the day.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Miles’ simple plan was a success, just as his buddy Hobie Brown had predicted.

Hobie Jones had read the note quietly in his corner of the room and hastily shoved the dinner plate into his backpack soon after.

Miles didn’t know if that meant he was forgiven or not, but at least he took the (probably cold) food with him and read the note without tearing it up into a million pieces, so at least Miles had that going for him.

There was one last step to really clinch the victory, though; an invitation to meet up at the rooftop later that day, before the last bell finally rung and let all of the kids out of the school for the day. Miles still had a lot to get off his chest that he couldn’t quite lay down on paper, and he needed to properly apologize to Hobie’s face to finally put his conscience at ease.

Whether or not Hobie took the invitation was left up in the air, really.

Miles made sure to try and get a head start so he could make it up there before Hobie could, but he made sure to add “be up at the rooftop by 3:30pm if you’re coming or I’m bouncing” to the end of the note, because as much as he wanted to make amends with his dimension’s Hobie, he was not going to let petty school drama get in the way of Spiderman-ing.

Miles was a man of standards, and he held himself to some level of professionalism, thank you very much!

It was cold that day, very cold.

Miles was lowkey regretting his decision to meet outside now as he tucked his chin deeper into his big puffer jacket, warming his hands with his warm breath before shoving them into his pockets.

He hoped Hobie had gotten used to getting around the hallways a bit more now, and that he could find his way up to the roof level without becoming completely lost and just giving up entirely.

As the minutes crawled by, Miles found himself unlocking and locking his phone multiple times, checking the time, checking for any notifications to distract himself, and wondering just why he decided on the roof to meet instead of, say, his dorm room hallway or whatever.

Then, the roof access door slowly swung open, and there stood Hobie M. Jones in all his six-foot-something glory.

Miles sucked in his breath as Hobie’s big brown eyes scanned the roof and fell upon his face, and the both of them stood rooted to their spots for a split second like deer in headlights.

Then Hobie grunted, tugged at his ponytail to let it loose, and his long dreads fell all around his face in one graceful movement. Miles felt his mouth go dry.

Miles’ feet moved on their own. They met in the middle, and a strong wind rushed through to tousle Hobie’s impressive locs some more as they both stared each other down.

Miles finally opened his mouth to speak, feeling his voice catching in his throat for a split second, before being interrupted anyways.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Hobie says quickly, tucking his own chin into his expensive-looking jacket’s collar as well.

Miles’ brain bluescreened. “Wait, wha?”

Hobie huffed out a laugh, the vapors of his breath being carried away in the chilly wind like dandelion seeds. “I’m being serious, man. It’s… it’s cool, honestly. I get why you ditched me. It happens all the time,”

Miles’ heart sinks. “N-no, Hobie, look. I really messed up and I felt like I had to-- wait, what do you mean all the time?”

Miles had a sweeping feeling of déja vu overcome him then.

Hobie chuckled ruefully, shrugging as he shoves his hands deeper into his own pockets, mirroring Miles. “I mean, like… you think you’re the only one who ever ran for the hills after seeing how famous I was? It just happens. That’s my life, I guess.”

Miles’ lower lip stuck out a bit. “But that’s… dude. That is so depressing!”

Hobie shook his head, tossing a loc out of his face. “Sure, but it’s… it’s just my life. It’s just how things are when you’re a model around here.”

They looked sadly into each other’s eyes before Hobie averts his gaze to his shoes, scuffing the toe on the roof floor for a second before looking back up and continuing.

“… You, uhm. How’d you… how’d you know that I like Jamaican food, though? I’ve never told anyone about that before. Nobody but my family, anyways.”

“Uhh, lucky guess?” Miles offers him a lopsided grin.

Hobie smiles for real this time, the corners of his eyes crinkling just like his earth-138 counterpart. “You really are a weird guy, just like you said before. What else did you want to tell me, before we both gotta bounce?”

Miles gaped at him like a fish. “You… you have to let me apologize, though. Like actually. Before we both have to go.”

Hobie nodded. “Okay. I’m all ears,”

Miles took a deep breath. “I…!" His voice caught in his throat for a second. "Uh. Do you wanna maybe… hang out, like outside of school sometime? Maybe grab some more Jamaican food from my favorite place?”

Hobie looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “You… that’s your apology?”

Miles sighed. “I’m bad at conflict management, man. Just let me treat you to some more lunch and then… maybe we can just let this whole thing go, yeah? You won’t ever have to talk to me again after this, I promise!”

“You are seriously sending me mixed signals here,” Hobie says. But he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea.

“I know, I know! But please, just humor me, man. We can do it this weekend, even. I just… feel like a total dick after what I did and I wanna be able to actually make it up to you.”

Hobie directs his shy smile back down to the ground. “Jesus,” he mutters.

Miles holds his palms forward. “What? Is that a no?”

Hobie laughs, full and bright and it-- fuck-- it fills Miles with a dizzying thrill that makes him laugh, too!

“Fine… but if you ditch me again this time, you asshole--” Hobie grabs the front of Miles’ jacket and yanks it towards him, putting the both of them closer together and making a complete heatwave roll through Miles’ nerves, “I will-- uh,”

Miles doesn’t register why Hobie stops speaking all of a sudden until his eyes slowly follow down to what he’s looking at, and then both of their hearts stop at the same time.

In Miles’ earlier haste to jump into his clothing after his meal run, he forgot to button a few buttons on his shirt, which left his very visibly black and red suit out in the open with just one small yank of his coat’s zipper. The top of his red spider emblem shone bright against the dark spandex.

For a second, the world stopped. The wind stopped blowing, the cars down below stopped honking, Miles stopped breathing.

Then, he hastily took a step back and cleared his throat, hoping against hope that Hobie would not recognize the spider suit so easily.

“S-so, yeah? You’ll go? I, uh, promise I won’t stand you up if you do. We can, uhm. Exchange numbers if you want--” here, Miles starts fumbling around his pockets for his phone, a device that he clung onto like a lifeline moments ago now almost completely forgotten in the excitement of the situation.

Hobie swallows and takes a step back also. “Y-yeah… yeah, sure. Let’s uhm. Let’s link up later, then.”

Miles lets Hobie input his digits into his contact list, and then bids him farewell.

“I’ll text you later, okay? Gotta go now, bye!”

Miles almost wants to throw himself off the roof of the school just to land on the concrete sidewalks below with a splat. A flattened spider. It’s what he deserves, honestly.

But he swallows his embarrassment and rushes down the stairs towards his own dorm room, instead.

He seriously, seriously hopes Hobie didn't recognize his spider suit, goddamn!

Once Miles gets to his room, he sags against the door with a sigh and shrugs off his puffer jacket. Then, he fishes his phone out of the jacket’s pocket and flicks the screen on, which now has Hobie Jones’ digits input into it under the name of “MJ (from Visions)”.

Miles throws himself into his and Ganke’s shared computer chair and twirls over to the window.

It’s Miles. I am not ditching you this time, PROMISE, he sends over to the number.

A few minutes later, he gets a response and his stomach flutters with the chime.

You better not, Hobie playfully teases. I know where you sleep…

A few more knife emojis accompany the texts and Miles laughs out loud. Then he bites his lip.

Fuck… damn. This really is earth-1610’s version of MJ, huh. The name beamed straight into his eyeballs from where it sat right at the top of his messages and it continued to haunt him as he got his laptop out for the night to finally make some more leeway on his English essay.

Miles went to bed that night dreaming of him and a red-headed Hobie Jones holding Mayday.

[skyward-floored]

(More hdw au, several months after this memory)

Gentle humming drifts through the air as Queen Adeline rocks her baby, little Zelda’s eyes finally slipping closed in slumber. Adeline looks down at her arms to be sure her daughter is asleep, and as she finishes her lullaby, she makes her way across the room, careful to step lightly.

“Goodnight my sweet Zelda,” Queen Adeline whispers, giving her tiny daughter a kiss as she places her in her bed. “Dream pleasant dreams.”

Zelda doesn’t react, other than with a quiet snuffling noise, and Adeline gives her one more smile before leaving her be.

She stifles a yawn as she then dresses for bed, slipping her shoes off with a relieved sigh. An ache is present in her toes, and Adeline winces at the state of her feet as she finally sits down.

Her husband is away checking the state of a new training outpost, so she’s been running around twice as much as normal. Adeline would have gone along with him, but Zelda was too small to travel, and things needed to be kept up with here.

Though the extra amount of work she’s had to deal with along with a baby has been taxing, even without the added stress of traveling, and she is, admittedly, worn out.

It used to be I could handle a week of days like this without batting an eye, she thinks as she lays back on her bed with a sigh. And look at me now. Nothing but an exhausted mother with achy feet.

Zelda lets out a soft coo in her sleep, and Adeline can’t help her smile.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

A quiet rapping at her door makes her ears prick, and Adeline sits up, then reluctantly stands when the knocking repeats a few moments later. Seems she won’t get to rest just yet.

“Just a moment please,” she calls, putting on a comfortable pair of slippers and a robe, and then heads to the door.

She opens it, and is met with the familiar sight of one of her closest friends, Impa’s red eyes bright in the dim lighting of the hallway.

Adeline smiles. She hasn’t seen Impa all that much since she got back from her most recent assignment, even though Impa was recently appointed her daughter’s bodyguard. But her smile slips as she realizes Impa looks terrible, dark circles under her eyes, hair slipping out of its usual neat bun. She seems like she’s barely standing, and Adeline puts a hand on her arm in worry.

“Impa? What brings you here so late?” Adeline asks. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but... are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you your highness. But I need... I need to speak with you,” Impa says in a small voice, unusually small for her.

Adeline’s worry deepens, but she nods at her, and quickly gestures Impa in. She leads her to the small couch in her quarters, and Impa sits, her arms crossed over her middle and face oddly nervous.

The queen sits next to her, giving her room, but close enough to offer support if it’s wanted. She’s had an exhausting day, but her friend is far more important than getting a proper night’s sleep. Especially if she’s resorting to visiting her so late in the day, looking so terrible. It must be important.

“So what is it you need, Impa?” Adeline asks lightly, leaning back on her seat. “Is something wrong?”

Impa continues to stare at the floor, her face curiously blank as her arms tighten around her middle. When she still doesn’t say anything, Adeline hesitantly puts a hand on Impa’s shoulder, and she flinches, finally looking over and meeting her eyes.

Adeline is shocked to see tears in them.

“Impa..?” she asks softly, urgently.

Maybe it’s her quiet voice, maybe it’s her hand on her shoulder, or maybe it’s even the fact that Impa is actually very close to her breaking point, but all of a sudden her tears spill over and Impa is crying.

Adeline stares in further shock at the tears streaming down Impa’s face before quickly tugging her into a hug, her friend’s breath hitching with quiet sobs.

“Impa, whatever is the matter?” she asks as Impa cries into her shoulder, worry thick in her voice. She’s never seen Impa like this, her strong, stoic friend heaving soft sobs into her arms. Not even when they were children did Impa cry like this— something must be terribly wrong.

Impa sniffles.

“I think—” she says, letting out a hiccup. “I think I made a mistake.”

Adeline meets her eyes, Impa shakily wiping some tears away, and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“Tell me what happened,” she says gently, and Impa nods, breathing out.

Adeline rings for some tea before they start, needing something to keep herself awake, and knowing Impa will appreciate it. She knows her friend’s favorite brew, and Impa does look calmer once she has the warm beverage in her hands, her tears stopped for the moment.

Impa sighs.

“During— during the assignment,” she finally begins, looking down at her tea and not at Adeline. “With the diplomatic party to the Eldin caves. You know we met with the Gorons, but they aren’t the only ones who live in that area.”

“Yes... I recall mentions of a dragon before. I believe he was to be included in the negotiations,” Adeline replies with a gentle nod. “All of the reports said everything went very well... were they incorrect?”

“No, they were correct,” Impa says, taking a long sip of tea. “The ambassador did his job well. The negotiations went exceptionally, with both parties.”

She sniffles again.

“Other matters just... didn’t.”

Adeline offers her a handkerchief, but Impa shakes her head, her tears stopped for now.

“What happened, Impa?” Adeline asks gently, aware there’s something her friend isn’t saying. Impa sighs, and tightly closes her eyes, holding her tea cup so tightly Adeline wonders if it will break.

“...I fell in love,” she whispers finally. “With the dragon knight Volga.”

The words are like a cold splash of water, Adeline blinking in shock, but as Impa squeezes her eyes shut, Adeline shakes off her disbelief and gently pats her shoulder.

“Oh Impa,” she says softly.

Impa breathes shakily in through her nose.

“I thought him insufferable at first, prideful and so full of himself. To my dismay we kept ending up together, during meetings and dinners and spars and everything, it seemed like he was always around with a smirk on his lips and some ignorant comment. It wasn’t until there was a monster attack and we fought together that somehow I realized there was more to him, and we just... we grew closer. We didn’t trust each other a bit at first, but somehow things changed, and we... suddenly we were in love,” Impa whispers, clutching her teacup.

“I did wonder why you barely wrote to me,” Adeline says, putting her hand over Impa’s. “I assumed you were too busy... which I suppose was correct, in a way.”

Impa almost smiles, then breaths in slowly.

“Yes. I apologize for not doing so. Between Volga and my duties, I had little free time,” she says, setting her tea cup down. “But back to what happened. I... it turns out dragon courting customs are different then both Hylian and Sheikah. I gifted Volga a particularly interesting crystal I discovered one day after we sparred, but it turns out the way I presented it, and what happened beforehand... it is the first step of how dragons propose to one another.“

Adeline can’t help her gasp.

“You proposed unknowingly?”

“Yes. Volga reciprocated, but I did not realize what had happened at first... but once we both figured out what had happened, I... I went along with it. And we were married. Or, mates, as he put it.”

Adeline mulls the tale over for a moment, almost unable to believe it despite hearing it from Impa herself. Impa is many things, but impulsive is not one of them, and going along with a marriage she did not intend is... very unlike her.

Which can only mean...

“...You truly love him, don’t you?” Adeline asks softly, and Impa closes her eyes.

“I... I did. I do. Let me finish,” she whispers. “We kept everything a secret, so as not to cause problems with the negotiations. I... also do not know what others’ reactions would be, especially the other Sheikah. Volga keeps company with monsters, even if he is not one himself. So we kept it all hidden. And everything was going so well despite all of the secrecy, and we were happy, the both of us, but... but then it was time for the ambassador to leave. And me with him.”

Impa’s voice shakes a little. “Volga thought I would stay with him, help him guard over the caves. I told him I couldn’t, not with my duty to Hyrule and the royal family, and my tribe as well. I wanted us to continue our relationship from a distance, but somehow it all just... went wrong. We fought, badly, and I...”

Impa wipes a hand over her eyes. “I left. I was out of time. I tried to talk to Volga once more before leaving, but he refused to speak to me. And now...”

Impa’s voice breaks, and Adeline puts her hand on her shoulder.

“I’m expecting,” she chokes out, and begins to cry in earnest again. “I’m expecting, Addy, and I don’t know what to do.”

Adeline pulls Impa back into a hug again, and her friend sobs, hurt and fear and anger and grief all spilling out with her cries.

“Oh Impa, you’ve been dealing with all of this alone?” Adeline breathes, holding her tight. “You’ve been back for weeks, I can’t imagine...”

No wonder she hasn’t been the same since she returned.

Adeline holds Impa tighter, and does nothing but rub a soothing hand along her back for several minutes, Impa trying to get a hold of herself and failing quite miserably.

“It’ll be alright. We’ll figure this out, I promise,” Adeline says gently, and Impa wipes a hand over her eyes. “Do you know how far along you are?”

“Somewhere around two months,” Impa whispers. “I began to suspect shortly after returning, but the signs are unmistakable now. I confirmed it earlier.”

She sniffles and wipes another hand over her eyes, and Adeline pulls back a little.

“We’ll figure this out,” she repeats gently, taking Impa’s hands in hers. “Things will be okay, Impa. For you and your baby.”

“But this child shouldn’t even exist!” Impa cries, her eyes even more red then normal. “They will be half dragon, Adeline, and we may have an agreement that Volga is technically a part of now, but he is still not trusted! A relationship with him is unthinkable among the Sheikah, they might not even accept our marriage as legitimate! How will my tribe react at the news that I carry his child?” she chokes out.

“Impa, all will be well,” Adeline says gently.

“I will not be able to fulfill my duties to you and the princess if I have my own child to care for!” Impa says thickly. “And my tribe may very well kick me out once they learn what I’ve done. How will all be well, your majesty? Answer me that.”

“Because I will help you,” she assures, voice firm with conviction. “You are not alone, Impa. I am on your side.”

She squeezes Impa’s hands.

“I’ll help you think of a plan. A great many things can be blamed on a sleep-deprived queen who recently had a baby,” she says with a wink. “If we work together, we can keep things quiet, and nobody will ever need to know who the father is. You’ll both be safe.”

“I can’t ask that of you your majesty,” Impa whispers, and Adeline sighs, looking at her tea which is now lukewarm at best.

Zelda shifts a little in her crib across the room, but she doesn’t wake, and silence falls over the room.

“...Do you remember when we were younger, and we pretended we were sisters?” Adeline asks after a minute. Impa nods, a minuscule smile forming on her tearstained face.

“Yes. You insisted we should be twins, despite you being three years older and us both looking nothing alike.”

“Oh, we looked plenty alike, hush,” Adeline huffs, and Impa’s smile grows just a little. “...my point is that we looked out for each other then, before either of us had any sort of importance beyond titles that were meaningless to us both. That hasn’t changed. I want to help you, Impa.”

Impa looks at her, gratitude shining in her eyes, but her gaze is still dim with grief.

“You’re certain?” she asks quietly.

Adeline nods again. “I’m certain. You’re my friend, Impa, I won’t leave you to figure this out by yourself. Plus you’ve saved my life at least twice, this is the least I can do.”

“You know I don’t require repayment for that,” she murmurs.

“No, but I still want to help you,” Adeline replies decisively, and tugs Impa into a hug again. “We can get to work on a plan as soon as you’re ready. I’m behind you all the way.”

Impa exhales, lowering her gaze, and Adeline can’t help but notice when her arm returns to resting around her middle.

The silence falls back between them, drained and quiet, and Adeline rests her head back on the couch they’re on, the tiredness she’d forgotten about now returning. She doesn’t want to deny Impa the comfort of having someone sit with her though, not after so long with dealing with this alone, and so she remains where she is, Impa’s head resting on her shoulder.

“...I’m scared,” Impa suddenly whispers, in a voice so quiet that Adeline barely hears it.

Adeline swallows, and gently sets her head against hers. “All I can tell you is that I was too,” she replies softly. “And that I’m here to help. You’re not alone, Impa.”

Impa lets out a sigh, heavy with exhaustion and grief, and Adeline knows there’s nothing more she can say.

All she can do is continue to hold her friend, and support her as best as she can.

[pushing500]

Mechi got three of these 'mystical shaman' offers within a week. He doesn't need a mystical healer, dammit! All his limbs are intact, and if they ever need replacing, he'll use bionics anyway.

After waving goodbye to the previous wild people- LeJeune, Hummell, and Eugenia- Mechi has acquired a new neighbour. She's a waster named Drill. We'll see how long she lasts before psychite dependence takes her down, I guess.

Cultists are starting a ritual to abduct a colonist?? Whatever will we do?!

First | Next | Previous

[hermaphroditus1124]

Don’t deadname a tboy while it sucks your dick unless you want to start only using its deadname btw.

[spoopieere]

Asa Headcannon lol

To me, Asa is a homebody. He likes domestic things: Stay home, cook a nice meal for himself , make some tea, read a book & pin insects...

But his other "hobby" that involves: Meticulously planning & traps/ murder, Going through lengths to capture new victims, Taking care of the hotel & his collection, Torture, etc...

Results in him having two lifestyles that are directly against each other. Though he enjoys both, he can't enjoy each things without sacrificing the time he could've had with the other.

Do I think Asa hates himself enough to have things that are contradictory that only affect him in his life? Not entirely. But *that* amount of trauma & psychopathy can NOT be normal growing up (plus my hc of homosexuality and autism).

What I'm trying to say is:

Asa being a serial killer is a form of self-harm.

(It's not the entire reason why he kills, but I think it's a part of the reasons. Or maybe he's just that nuts lmao.- read tags)