#if you choose the cute option

[kisskissbanggang]

Jumpspace Renegade - ep. 11 ✨🚀

[5.1k words, <20 min. read - Stray Kids Multi Fic, Scifi!au, Choose Your Own Adventure - SFW/Smut in Other Chapters - Mentions of Changlix, Navigating Feelings, Unexpectedly Not as Exciting as Some Characters are Hoping, Minho is Getting Restless, Minho is Also Indeed Still Acting Weird, Rescue Missions, Prison Breaks, Hints of Motives, Crumbs of Backstory, Dumb and Unusual Punishment, Loyalty Crisis, We’re Still on the Ocean Planet, Mentions of Blood, Scifi Guns, Always Check the Tags]

[Episodes on Fridays 7pm pst, Polling closes Saturdays 7pm pst]

[Series Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

“Do you think you’re in a place to be making demands?” Chan was pissed. The bounty was asking for a goddamn cabin?

Minho cocked his head, almost taunting the captain. “Do you want your appraiser back? Ask Nova. She’ll tell you I'm the best bet you have.”

Both men looked at you then. You took a brief, deep breath.

“Minho should be compensated. You’re having him help bring back Hyunjin, and who knows what kind of mess he’s in. Making the bounty do work for nothing is just slave labor,” you determined. Chan reeled. Minho grinned. 

“But-!” you added. 

A mutual pause struck them both. 

“Obviously,” you continued, “there should be conditions.”

“Oh really,” Chan and Minho said in unison. The captain was smug. The bounty was the one reeling now.

“Yes!” you confirmed. “Minho should be locked in and out at all times.”

He grumbled under his breath at this, gaze set hard on Chan even though you were the one coming up with this garbage. “Fine,” he sighed.

“What else?” Chan asked.

“What else?!” Minho repeated, whining.

“And–” you floundered. “And, and… and! To continue paying for this upgrade, you’re on-call for medic duty and other auxiliary crew assignments, like this.”

Chan clapped his hands together. “Yes, even better.”

Minho scoffed hard. “You’re a fucking piece of work, Captain.”

“And you’re a piece of shit!” Chan retorted. “Do you want the cabin or not?! This was your brilliant idea.”

“Yeah,” Minho huffed, “and my next brilliant idea is to put my foot up your ass.”

Chan groaned and pointed accusingly. “Holy shit you’re so annoying, I should’ve fucking shot you when you asked me to! I have half a mind to–”

“Oh my god,” you interrupted, “would both of you shut UP?”

Thankfully, this seemed to do the trick. You turned to Minho. “You want to make it to Daedalus in one piece, don’t you?”

Minho’s glare could kill. Chan paused again.

“... Interesting. You want to go to Daedalus, Lee?”

You winced in realization before turning back to face the captain.

“Uh, obviously,” you floundered. “Minho’s fiance is there, laying low until he gets back.”

Chan raised an extremely dubious eyebrow. “Fiance,” he repeated, unbelieving.

Jeongin chuckled, still lurking in the doorway of the medical office. “Fiance?” he also parroted. “It’s not Momo, is it?”

“Momo would never go back to Daedalus,” Chan shook his head. His gaze fell on you now, wondering where the hell you would get an idea as stupid as covering for Minho.

“Fine,” Minho relented. “I’ll do it.”

This seemed to pacify the captain. “Glad that’s settled,” he casually nodded as he turned to leave the med bay. “Our ground clearance expires at nightfall, so you have the whole afternoon if you need. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Well, hold on–” Minho added.

Chan paused.

“You’re asking me to go out there with no cover, and you haven’t cashed your bounty yet. Can I at least get my obfuscator back?”

The captain thought about this and shrugged. “Smartest thing you’ve said since you’ve been on this ship. Knock yourself out.” He strolled over to a locker built into the wall at the top of the spiral staircase and beeped it open. Inside was a satchel, which Chan pawed around in. He retrieved a small pendant and tossed it back to Minho.

“What’re the chances of getting my bag back before Daedalus?”

“Doubtful,” Chan shook his head. “What are my chances of you thanking me?”

“Doubtful,” Minho mocked. He pocketed the pendant and grabbed your hand before pulling you down the stairs with him.

“What about you thanking me?” you teased him.

Minho stopped dead before wheeling on you, pulling you onto the same step he stood on and herding you against the wall of the stairwell. You felt your eyes widen when he leaned in. “I’m sure my new fiance will be thrilled to hear you got me better accommodations,” he finally retorted, voice low and ominous, but still somehow reminding you of your rendezvous the other morning. 

You got over yourself. Based on everything you'd seen so far, Minho was all bark and no bite. You tiptoed up to kiss his cheek, predictably breaking his concentration. Minho wrinkled his nose and swatted you off before turning to reach the galley floor.

“I said no more of that,” he badgered back over his shoulder. “Just, ugh, don’t overdo the cover story next time.”

“Yes sir,” you complied, only slightly rolling your eyes. He did have a point.

Minho’s expression over his shoulder turned into a smirk. “Sir? I like that.”

He paused by the table in the galley, with Seungmin still peacefully passed out in the booth. 

“What’s the story here?” Minho asked, jabbing a thumb in his direction.

“Not sure,” you answered. “Changbin and Jeongin said there’d been a misunderstanding when he went to drop off the charts for his clients.”

Minho drew out a pen light, likely swiped from a drawer in the med office, and stooped down to get a better look at the navigator.

“I’d love to know what kind of misunderstanding it was,” he casually remarked. He gently ran a fingertip through a dark blue smudge on Seungmin’s glasses and rubbed it between his fingers before smelling it and ultimately tasting it, much to your horror. He reeled for a moment, face scrunched in regret. “Holy shit,” he laughed. “This is Azure. You know what that is?” 

You blankly shook your head, feeling a bit dumb and naive once again. 

“Makes sense,” Minho assured you. “It’s made of ink from a specific type of sea cucumber in the subarctic seas here, so it doesn’t go off-planet that often.”

“What is it?” you asked curiously. 

“At its most innocent? Party drug. College kids and marines on surface leave love the stuff, but I never understood the appeal,” the bounty explained. “At its worst? Well… you know.” 

“Oof,” you winced. “So with Seungmin… You don’t think–”

“Nothing nefarious,” Minho quickly reassured you. “Again, the Phaborians are largely against violence. If the guys say there was a misunderstanding, I'm guessing the navvy’s clients originally intended to tranq’ a possible threat to play it safe.”

“So he’s fine?” you implored. You tried not to sound worried. 

“Yeah, hun,” Minho nodded. “He’ll wake up with a pounder of a headache and a wicked case of minor amnesia, but he’ll be fine.”

Finally pleased with his diagnosis, Minho followed you out to the workshop. You tried to ignore a dot of Felix's blood on the floor at the top of the ramp. Instead, you let yourself be entertained by how Minho apparently knew how to access the weapons rack behind its hidden door. You were interested to see what he’d grab, and were somehow not surprised to see it was only a single blaster before he closed the rack again. He clipped on the pendant that Chan had returned to him while you ventured down the ramp together, tucking the thing into the collar of his shirt. 

“So,” you started, but stopped short. It was hard not to feel like you were being a pain despite your curiosity. You pointed at the pendant. “What exactly does that do?”

“You've never seen an obfuscator?” Minho chuckled. “That’s surprising. I bought mine in T’kaarm.”

“Don’t make me feel dumb,” you whined. More and more, you were being proven to not even be as street smart as you originally thought. Reaching the end of the ramp, you led him around to where you left the four-wheeler. 

“Calm down,” laughed Minho. “You know how most facial scanners are affected by interference or distortion maybe once every ten times?”

“Sure,” you nodded. Obviously.

He pointed at the pendant. “This thing spews out a cloud of interference, it’s like a portable data jammer–”

“That’s what that does?” came a voice unexpectedly. You both jumped and searched, quickly finding the cabin boy gingerly closing the sub-hatch door to the cargo hold. 

“Jeongin?!” you asked, still a bit startled. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Chan’s crazy if he thinks Seungmin needs watching,” he heatedly explained. “Seungmin needs sleep and Jisung still isn't back! Can you give me a ride to the market?”

You and Minho traded glances. Jeongin had a perfectly good reason to go from the sound of it, but it was pretty clear he snuck out–

“You were dropping off the payload with the navigator?” Minho asked, interrupting your deliberation. 

Jeongin nodded in response, confused. What did that have to do with anything?

Nevertheless, this was apparently the right answer. Minho waved him over with a nod while shooing you away from the seat or the four-wheeler. 

“What,” you scoffed, “you don’t trust me?”

Minho tickled your waist, the same move as earlier, to get you out of the way before he sat down at the handlebars. “There’s plenty of room for you behind me if you want. You can cuddle up real cozy.”

You swiftly punched Minho in the shoulder before sitting down on the mudguard. For wanting to curtail any fooling around, your alliance with Minho apparently did not forbid occasional flirting. 

Jeongin’s eyes awkwardly darted between you two before hopping on as well, just before Minho set off to take you back to the market. Maybe it was the new surroundings, maybe it was the events of the day, but it felt like you'd been on Phaborus for weeks. The sunlight on the water was gorgeous as it just started to set. Really, you were beginning to regret you didn't have any time to actually put your feet in the water. 

Rude as ever, Minho interrupted your sightseeing. He shot a look back at Jeongin. 

“Alright. You gotta know what happened to knock out the navvy.”

“What,” Jeongin ogled with a laugh, “you want the gossip or something?! I have no clue, dude. Changbin and I were waiting out in the lobby. Seungmin was taking his meeting solo, and suddenly we hear yelling and this bang like a blaster or something.”

“Oh shit,” Minho remarked. “You think Seungmin pulled a gun?”

“Seungmin?!” Jeongin wheezed. “He'd never. No, I assume it was a capsule gun or something, something to aim the Azure. Changbin and I barged in when we heard it.”

“And?” you asked, more intrigued now. 

Jeongin shrugged. “They were checking his charts and pockets and apologized. And then we left.”

“Oh my god,” Minho groaned. “That’s it?! You’re the most boring crew I've ever met.”

The bounty paused when he pulled you up to the market, at a similar spot to where Felix had parked that morning. He pointed past Jeongin's direction. 

“Go on,” he directed. “Get. Don't come back unless you have Jisung or a juicier story.”

Jeongin’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. Still, he waved goodbye before venturing off into the market. Minho got your attention again. This time, he was pointing at an open air restaurant at the edge of the marketplace. 

“I went on my first date there,” he serenely explained. He didn't give you a chance to even digest that properly before he revved the engine and took off again, but it stuck with you. You tried imagining Minho as a teenager, head in the clouds instead of invested in civil uprising, maybe even bashful and shy on a date. 

You were preoccupied, feeling a little mentally exhausted when Minho pulled up to the temple. The feelings of ease and curiosity that shaded your previous trip here were replaced with wariness and paranoia. This had gone so wrong earlier that suddenly, there was no doubt in your mind that it wouldn’t get any better or easier. Minho seemed to sense this, judging by the way that he hesitated  when he got off the four-wheeler. He was, as always, surprisingly gentle with you. A mindful finger nudged under your chin brought your momentarily unfocused stare to his eyes. The setting sun reflected beautifully off the circuitry in Minho’s otherwise rich, dark gaze.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

You nodded in acknowledgement but pushed Minho’s hand away nonetheless. “We need to get Hyunjin back,” you reasoned.

“It’s not like you know him or anything,” Minho reminded you.

“Sure,” you nodded, “but we’re a crew. Tell me the plan.”

Minho’s normally hard expression softened a little and he let you hop off the four-wheeler. He checked the charge on his blaster. “My plan, honestly, is that we storm the place and start firing if we don’t get any answers–”

“Oh no, I don’t think so!” came a familiar voice from the temple.

The old priest was standing by the door, arms folded across her chest.

Minho was a bit caught off-guard by this. So were you, to be honest, but you weren’t the one preparing for a firefight. He gave you a dubious look before he walked over. Soon enough, Minho and the priest were having a heated discussion, both squaring off with their stances, pointing any which way, pointing at you, and nearly shouting at each other – all in Phaborian. You’d thought it earlier, but this practically confirmed Minho being modest about his abilities when you first mentioned stopping at the Hatchery. But soon, with the bickering and discussing and arguing seemingly past, the tall, elderly priest placed her hand on Minho’s head, seemingly reciting a small rite or brief blessing before sternly dismissing him, back in your direction. The whole exchange had taken minutes.

“So about your firefight…” you smirked.

“It sounded so much more grave up until now!” Minho reeled. “They did the respectful thing and dumped him. Your appraiser is in jail at the port authority.”

“Is that far?” you worried.

Minho scoffed. “Not at all. It’s on the other side of the market.”

This time, hopping on the four-wheeler, you surprised Minho by sliding onto the seat behind him, calling his earlier bluff. When he questioned it, you teased that it was for better balance. He didn’t argue when you wrapped your arms around his middle for more security. Cutting through the market this time meant Minho was patiently weaving through swaths of passerby. You nudged your chin closer to Minho’s ear, asking him if Phaborus still felt the same as when he was younger.

“As similar as it can when you’re older,” he shrugged. “Everything feels smaller, more quaint, I guess. I missed it, though. Feels like going back to a simpler time.”

“Simpler all around?” you asked. “Or simpler for you?”

“Simple for me,” Minho admitted. “I don’t think I’ve let myself have a simple notion in years.”

A blaring horn behind you alerted Minho to a coming vehicle, moving much faster than the crowd. He navigated to the side of the road as much as possible, a tall task for a crowded street, but managed to get out of the way just in time for a speedbike to come blazing through.

With Jeongin riding it.

He noticed you both, too, judging by the way he braked suddenly. Now that the bike wasn’t in motion, you recognized it as the one Jisung had been using. 

“Where are you going?” you called over.

“I’m trying to follow some leads!” Jeongin answered while Minho pulled up alongside him, yelling over the ambient cacophony of the market along with both your idling engines.

“No luck?” Minho asked him.

“Folks have seen him,” answered Jeongin. “I didn’t bring a headset with me so I’m working with a language barrier. But he’s been around, and I don’t think he’s made any positive impressions by the sound of it.”

“Finally,” Minho sighed. “Something exciting, hopefully. Come with us to the port authority. We can get your appraiser and if Jisung has been getting into trouble, they might know about it.”

“Is Hyunjin in jail?” Jeongin grinned. He laughed out loud when you nodded. “I gotta see this,” he explained. “Hyunjin is either the king of the drunk tank or dying of germ exposure.”

You traded glances with Minho again before gesturing for Jeongin to follow along. It turned out you weren’t much further to the port authority, and it was only a couple minutes more before you were able to park outside. Unlike the gorgeously amber-hued clay buildings of the Hatchery with their storm windows and alternating roofs of tin or tile, the Federation installations were all a gross combination of concrete and steel. The port authority jail wasn’t an exception, it being a sterile looking building that was probably enjoying a break from the typically unrelenting rain.

The clerk was a bored, likely conscripted Phaborian, looking through paperwork when the three of you came in. There was no greeting, no acknowledgement.

“Officer, we’re looking for a crew member,” Minho confidently began.

The young Phaborian, masculine in stature, looked up at him. “And you’re…?”

“First Mate Lee, tradeship Ambler.”

Jeongin raised an amused eyebrow at you from where you both flanked Minho. The clerk tapped into a computer.

“And you’re missing…?”

“Hwang? Hyunjin? We think we lost him during surface leave at the start of the day.”

“Found him,” the clerk boredly remarked. “Can’t release him yet, sir.”

“What?!” Minho sputtered. He leaned forward, striking up another hushed argument in Phaborian with the clerk this time. The language was difficult to parse out tone from, but whatever Minho was saying to the clerk, it involved some elaborate hand gesturing and emphatic repetition. At one point, you could’ve sworn Minho was miming a stabbing motion. The clerk finally reacted somewhat interestingly, eyes widening before he ultimately nodded. He tapped into the computer some more and pulled out some paperwork to sign before scurrying to a back office.

Minho sighed and turned around, leaning back on the desk. “This is garbage,” he whined. “I’m paying for room and board on my way to a prison sentence with this?”

“What’d you tell him?” you asked. 

You were met with a shrug from Minho. “It was an easy story. They think Hyunjin did it, and they just want him to say sorry. So I said he did it. And that he was deeply ashamed about stealing it, but he was in a sordid affair with a rich woman who betrayed him, and maybe it made him a little crazy, so he just decided to return it.”

Jeongin was failing to hold in a snicker. “He’s going to love this.”

“Why lie?” you balked.

“Too much back and forth,” Minho tiredly explained.

The clerk came back with a huge officer who ushered the three of you back into a row of holding cells. Hyunjin, unlike Jeongin’s prediction, was not king of the drunk tank or apparently dying from germ exposure. Instead, the appraiser was napping, sitting up against the wall in the first cell, sporting a bandage on his jaw that could possibly have been hiding a bruise or other small injury. A much heftier dressing adorned his hand where he’d been shot back at the temple. The officer banged on the bars, roughly rousing Hyunjin from his rest, but he quickly woke up upon seeing you all. He hopped to his feet and grabbed his bag. The officer opened the door for him and stepped aside, letting him through with ease. Hyunjin was very confused why the officer gave him a pitying look as he passed.

“Is that all you’ll be needing?” the officer asked.

“We should be fine,” you replied, feeling more like you were checking out at a hotel. You regarded your compatriots. “That’s all we needed, right?”

Everyone shrugged. You were ready to leave, until a voice rang out down the aisle.

“Nova? Guys?!”

You and the rest of your party processed this for a moment.

Jisung.

You would’ve thought you’d realized first if Jeongin didn’t run right away.

Sure enough, there was Jisung in the last holding cell. His enhanced eye had apparently been punched at some point. He clung onto the bars when you all arrived.

“When did you get here?!” Hyunjin ogled.

“When the fuck did you get here?” Jisung asked in return.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the officer ushered you all away from the cell. “Not him.”

“Why?” asked Jeongin.

“Still doing paperwork. But he should be fine tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? Not good, you realized. Chan had told you the ground clearance would expire at nightfall.

Minho’s lips brushed your ear. “Pretend to be Jisung’s wife,” he instructed in a whisper.

You shot him an entirely involuntary but very necessary glare in refusal. “What? Why?!” you demanded. 

The bounty rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

In a stunning theatrical display, Minho reached for the bars and immediately began arguing with the officer now, really playing up something supposedly personal and emotional before the officer gave up with a sigh. He begrudgingly opened Jisung’s cell, too, and Minho dramatically collapsed inside, cradling Jisung’s confused face and kissing him full on the lips. Jisung exclaimed, muffled by Minho’s mouth before falling backwards. Minho hauled him up to his feet and profusely thanked the officer over and over and over again while pushing all of you back out to the lobby.

Minho continued to graciously thank the officer while he tried to pass the clerk’s desk with no trouble, too, but that was too good of a hope to come true. The front doors barred shut with a heavy clank. You all panicked, looking for what reason there could be to still be here… until the clerk held out a hand.

“1,200 Credits,” he boredly requested, holding out a number pad. A deathly silence fell over the lobby.

“... For what?” you finally asked.

“His–” he pointed at Hyunjin, “damage to the temple.”

“And Jisung?” Minho asked, amused.

The clerk pulled out a report. “Han, Jisung,” he read, “responsible for damage to five market stalls, one restaurant, and three civilian vehicles.”

Jeongin and Hyunjin were practically rolling on the floor with this revelation. And Minho was nearly about to launch into yet another cloying argument–

–when the lanky cabin boy simply walked up, wiping away a hysterical tear, and punched in his credit number.

The four of you: Minho, Jisung, Hyunjin, and you, all traded bewildered looks at the exchange. Afterwards, the clerk still had his hand outstretched when you finally realized. You pulled the pendant out of its pocket in your waist pack and handed it to him. He briefly marveled at it before delicately placing it into a locked drawer.

With the clerk satisfied, he waved over Hyunjin and Jisung, who had their faces scanned before the doors unlocked.

You all felt a bit dazed when you left the small jail. There were a few more questions humming around your head. What exactly did Minho tell the cop to get Jisung out of holding early? What the hell did Jisung get into that got him that heavy of a price tag to get out? Because a majority of that couldn’t have been Hyunjin. And where the fuck did Jeongin get all that money?!

“What the hell was the tortured lovers routine for?” Jeongin snorted.

Minho’s eyes rolled back in his skull. “Holy shit,” he impatiently blustered. “There’s a theme here, can’t you tell?! The Phaborians value love and relationships above anything, that’s what makes them so peaceful but also fucking terrifying if you mess with them–”

“But I didn’t get a smooch,” Hyunjin pouted. Jeongin howled another laugh beside him.

“Want one?” Minho shot back. “Come here, I’ll even – what do you think you’re doing?”

Jisung was about to get on the speedbike when Minho stopped him.

“Sorry, dear,” Jisung sardonically answered.

“Get your ass over here,” Minho demanded. “Someone has to have a juicy fucking story for me or I will lose it.”

“Yeah, I have some questions, too,” Hyunjin ribbed, sitting himself down in his same spot from the morning.

“What about us?!” you asked, gesturing to Jeongin. Jisung reluctantly sat himself across from Hyunjin.

“I dunno. Meet us there!” Minho gleefully yelled, revving his engine and speeding off.

You turned to see Jeongin patting the seat of the speedbike. “Room for two,” he grinned.

Fair enough, you reasoned. You’d hardly interacted with Jeongin at all since you’d arrived. He straddled the bike before you and waited until you settled in before he also gunned it out onto the main road. Unlike riding with Minho earlier, this proximity felt a bit more sudden. The sun on the water was gorgeous as it was setting. But now you were burning with curiosity.

“So…” you began, holding Jeongin around his middle as platonically as you could. “You’re, uhm, fucking loaded with cash?”

You could feel Jeongin laugh, the way his broad shoulders shook. “I guess so?”

“And despite this,” you continued, “you’re cool being a cabin boy?”

“As opposed to what?” Jeongin asked over his shoulder. Just like Felix, any of Jeongin’s tattoos were decorative. A small one of a creeping vine was tucked behind his ear. So far, he was the only member of the crew that you’d seen without a military brand. “I wasn’t anything before Chan, so I kind of just took what I could. If that’s as a cabin boy, then so be it.”

“Right,” you nodded blankly, “but what was before? What did you leave behind?”

“You got a hell of a lot of questions, Miss Nova,” Jeongin smirked. “But whoever, whatever I left behind was nothing of note. It wasn’t any way to live, that’s for sure.”

This struck you harder than you expected. You definitely understood leaving behind nothing of note. It just surprised you that someone with as much cash as Jeongin could feel that way. 

But it was valid.

No way to live was no way to live, no matter how you sliced it.

You lamented not being able to feel the water or the sand one more time when you met up with Minho at the workshop. Well, you were supposed to meet up with them. Weren’t you? You and Jeongin searched around the ramp and the ship, even peeking into the galley, but no sign of them, until you sighted them a few minutes later pulling into the port.

Minho looked pissed. Hyunjin looked more disgusted, but both men were unmistakably put off.

Jisung was babbling something when Minho drove up the ramp. Jeongin began retracting the bay door, equally confused as you were. Minho flapped a hand at Jisung to shut him up.

“I’m ashamed to call myself your fake husband,” Minho pointed accusingly at him. “I need to hear that you apologized tomorrow. Get the hell out of my face.”

You tried to reach for Jisung, who leaned out of the way, mumbling about needing something from his cabin. Minho turned his threatening point to you now.

“Babe, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll have no mercy on that idiot.”

All this noise apparently summoned Chan, who stalked out of the cabin by your room and donned a welding mask. He pointed his laser torch at Jeongin.

“You!” he bellowed. “What the hell are you thinking? You had me fucking worried sick. I gave you a direct order! I had no clue where you were!”

Jeongin stood quiet, like he was withstanding a scolding from a parent.

Chan pointed with his torch beyond the workshop. “You go clean the head and report back to me. You’ll love the stupid chores I’ve been saving up.”

You watched Jeongin nod affirmatively before leaving for midship, not hanging his head in shame or anything, but his eyes trained on the floor nonetheless. When you brought your focus back to the current commotion, Hyunjin was adding to Chan’s stress levels, apparently, by explaining Jisung’s absence.

“ARRESTED?” the captain shouted. He took off the welding mask to run his fingers through his hair in distress. “Why the fuck was he arrested?!”

“He can tell you all about it,” Hyunjin grumbled. “I’m sweaty, I’m gross, I have a headache – I’m taking a shower.”

“I just directed Jeongin to clean the head,” Chan argued, exasperated.

“Then he’ll either wait or close his eyes,” groaned Hyunjin, brushing past Chan on his way into the ship.

This left you and Minho. Chan took a deep, heaving, steadying breath before grandly gesturing towards the cabin he emerged from.

“I’ve prepared Sir’s stateroom during his expedition.”

“What’s with the torch?” Minho grinned, peeking into the room. 

Chan proudly gestured with his welding mask. “I sealed your stupid hatches shut, you son of a bitch.”

“Great,” deadpanned Minho. “What if there's an emergency?”

“That doesn’t sound like my problem right now,” Chan shrugged. “Now, thank you for your service, but get the hell in there.”

“Yes sir,” Minho mocked. Unexpectedly, though, he leaned over and kissed your cheek. Except, of course, his gesture catching your attention meant it was pretty much a peck on the lips. He ducked into his new room before either you or Chan had a chance to react. 

You tried to process this for a second before you caught Chan leering at you. Now you got it. You were a dumb little bartering chip between the two men. The key card Chan forgot to get back from you was burning a hole in your pocket for some reason. 

“You’re sure there's nothing going on with you and the bounty?” the captain asked while he walked back out to the workshop proper. The grease and sweat smeared on him was almost as endearing as it was gross. 

“Yes, Captain,” you teased. “I'm more worried about Felix, though.”

“Felix is doing fine,” Chan assured you. “He’s resting… in Changbin’s room.”

“Really,” you gawked. 

“Right?!” Chan laughed. “And Seungmin's resting in his room, too… If you’re wondering.”

“Why would I be wondering?” you deflected. 

Chan chuckled to himself, packing up his tools and setting the welding mask back in its compartment. “You’re cute, you know that? And you have time. There’s only one boost lane on Phaborus so we’re backed up until well into nightfall.”

“You don’t need me for anything?”

The captain looked puzzled. “No? There's such a thing as free time, love, go cherish it. Just don't leave the ship in case our time gets moved up.”

Chan left for the galley, leaving you alone in the workshop. A heavy ball of restlessness weighed you down. You wondered what should be next. If you couldn’t leave the ship, what could you do? The first thing that came to mind was Felix, checking on him and seeing how he was doing. However, there was also Jisung. Minho was fuming on your behalf. Or, you mused… you could check on Seungmin. You couldn’t deny you were worried about him, and Minho did manage to make you wonder just went so wrong in the first place.

[kaiserouo]

"Huh."

[prismaticsaltedink]

Scoria and Sakura are best friends! It's so cute when I see the things they do together, and it makes me so beyond happy that they both came to live with me so that they could share their lives with each other. They absolutely insist on it, and does so much good for the other.

I can't imagine how else they could have found happiness if things hadn't worked out exactly as they did. Scoria has basically been Sakura's "emotional support snake" while she worked through things from her past I'll never fully know that caused her a lot of issues with panic and fear. Sakura knows this too, and looks out for her sister, the only one she truly trusts and feels completely safe with.

The moment they wake up they both want each other to snuggle and play with. Scoria loves to be affectionate with both me and her sister who seems to have not had this earlier in her life- but Scoria is showing her how nice it is not only directly but demonstrating with me and Sakura also trying, copying what she has seen her sister do.

Sometimes when one goes to check on the other they'll join in on... I'm not even sure what they were doing. But they had a good time while taking a mandated union break from digging tunnels for the isopods.

So happy I get to share in the adventures of these two best friends! It makes me so happy to see them living their best lives together, and being beyond content snuggled together with their found family.

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 4

after so many months of waiting, the wait... is finally over.

here is the fourth and final part of this little au idea i had brewing in my head for some time now. i hope you guys enjoy?

and thanks so much to everyone leaving encouraging and kind comments on the previous parts as well! really appreciate y'all :)

hope this ending is a satisfying one :)

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 3 here<

MJ: We’re going to hang tomorrow after my shoot, right?

It was a text that Miles looked at and looked at and looked at all day ever since it arrived into his messages that very morning. It literally came out of nowhere.

But how long ago was it that he and Hobie Jones ran into each other at Central Park? It had to have been like a week ago, he was pretty sure...

He thinks.

“Maybe the guy’s pushy or somethin’, he just really likes you for some reason,” Ganke had offered by way of explanation as they sat together at lunch for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Miles wasn’t entirely sure when he and Ganke ever got to chill like this together in the cafeteria area... but as luck would have had it, Ganke’s mom forgot to send over some money for the week, forcing him to buy from the cheaper menu that the school had to offer rather than ordering off of the many food delivery apps he had on lock in his phone.

They sat a ways away from the hustle and bustle of the main area, near a big window that looked outwards into the typical scene of the congested New York City streets, and Miles would have been perfectly content with this arrangement had it not been for The Text.

He jiggled his leg and rubbed at his jaw in between bites of his own cheap meal-- something he got even though he didn’t really want it, but what was he gonna do, let Ganke wait in line by himself?-- gazing at his cell phone sitting right by his elbow. The text message was gazing right back at him.

“I… dunno. I-- man, I wish I told you more about my patrols so you can remind me how long ago Central Park was. I swear it was only like… last week? Right?”

Ganke chomped on his own slice of pepperoni pizza and shrugged. “I think that was a while ago. Either way, he wants to go on this date with you. So you might as well.”`

Miles groaned. “It’s not a date, Ganks. We’re just… chillin’, hangin’ out a little,” he gestured with his hands, which was not convincing Ganke at all. “Y’know?”

Ganke leaned forward a little bit, glasses slipping down his nose as he grinned mischievously. “Did he figure out it was you, Mi? Is that why you’re so nervous about it?”

“Whaaat are you talking about? No… no, he didn’t! I just. Uh, I saved him from those scary gang members and then I swung him home and that was that. No one else knows but you and my parents, Ganke, promise.” Miles’ smile was even less convincing.

“Miles,” Ganke deadpanned, “have you ever thought about what would happen if some Flickstagram-famous model learns about your thing you got goin’ on? He could be pushing this because he knows already, dude. Or at least he thinks he does. You’re a weird kid after all, and it wouldn't take too long to put two and two together... no offense.”

Miles shoved a fist under his chin and chewed a french fry pensively, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't give him away.

The thing is, Hobie did know.

Miles still couldn’t shake off the memories of his warm fingertips hooking under his mask and slowly lifting it off of his face, the way his entire visage seemed so positively radiant with that dazzling smile once they met eyes. He remembered Hobie’s wiry arms clutching onto him for dear life as they flew across the stadium towards the exit, the easy banter they had going back and forth after the action finally died down and they were safely heading back to the outer gates of the park.

So Hobie definitely knew. That wasn’t really the problem... although, Ganke might be right. It could be in the future, if Miles didn’t play his cards right.

Hobie is a solid guy no matter what dimension Miles found him in. Even as the Prowler on earth-616, that Hobie Brown was as an upstanding citizen as any crook could be. But flashes of earth-42 kept sparking up right behind his eyes every time doubt popped up about a new player in his life here on earth-1610, and one can never just assume anyways.

And now Miles is sitting at his lunch table with his best friend— who, until now was the only living person on this planet who knew about his secret identity— ruminating on whether or not Ganke might end up being a damn seer after all. Ganke doesn’t know that Hobie knows, but he really just might be right anyhow. That would really be Miles' luck.

Goddamnit.

Is Hobie planning on blackmailing him somehow? His involvement with those thugs stealing a prominent museum’s precious security info seemed a bit off to him, the more he thought about it.

They joked about it many a time over text, but Miles would be lying if he said he hadn’t turned a couple of facts over and over on more than one sleepless night. Hobie mentioned having connections, a camera, and seemed almost too recklessly opportunistic when it came to the chance at nabbing that flash drive...

Doubt was sinking back in. Miles drummed his fingers on the table and shot Ganke a look. “... Whaddya think I should do if he does, then?”

“What, if he finds out?”

“Yeah.”

Ganke shrugs again, popping a pepperoni slice into his mouth and thinking while he chewed. “Web him up to a lamppost,” he said after a bit.

Miles snorted with laughter. “Ganke, be for real right now. You’ve got great coding and social media knowledge, dude. Could you hack his tech if asked you to? Like, just in case?”

Ganke waggled his head, making a show of really, really thinking it through. “Mmmmn, yeah maybe.”

Miles sighs. “What do I have to do?” He asks because he knows his best friend by now.

“Fifty bucks and you also have to do my laundry for a week. What?” Ganke exclaims upon suddenly being on the receiving end of Miles’ glare, “If I get caught, it could mean like federal level charges on my head, dude. Take it up with the law, not me!”

Miles sighs and returns back to his plate of cold fries. “Yeah, yeah. You got a point,”

“But you gotta meet up with him first, figure out what we're dealing with. Just stop putting it off, bro. Avoiding him'll make you look more suspicious. Might as well get it done and over with,”

Miles swallows his fries along with his anxiety, picks up his phone, and starts drafting his answer to Hobie’s sudden proposal.

He doesn't know why there's a pit of dread in his stomach, but he opts to ignore it this time.

He hopes Ganke is wrong.

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The next day, MJ's cell phone vibrates on the portable vanity set up at the studio where his current shoot is taking place.

He’s busy, trying not to get too lost in the flurry of hands prepping him, the flashing of the cameras, the shouts of directions from the camera guy as he hits pose after pose with the props on set.

It’s when he’s changing into his last outfit for the shoot that he finally has some time to sip his water bottle and mindlessly scroll through dozens of notifications, finally coming across the one notif he waited to get the entire day: Miles. His name appeared at the very bottom.

... Meaning he received the message hours ago. Shit.

With his shoot almost over, MJ punched in a quick message and hit send, excitedly returning back to the set and finishing his work day up as quickly as humanly possible.

MJ's absentmindedly agreeing that every picture the director shows him is truly amazing, yes, amazing indeed, all while trying not to vibrate out of his mind-numbingly expensive designer outfit he’s been forced into. The only person he can think about as he dumbly nods along to whatever the crew is saying to him is Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles.

Miles has agreed to finally-- finally, after all of these weeks-- meet up with him and make good on his promise. Of course, MJ's slightly miffed that it had to be him to initiate the lunch date in the end, but whatever.

Closed mouths don’t get fed, after all. And Miles was technically not breaking his promise.

So now MJ is floating back down the hallway to the makeup room, gently pushing past all of the other models and swatting away at his mother’s hands while he makes his way over to his duffle bag.

“MJ, darling. Look at me,” his mother says as she hooks a finger under his chin and examines his makeup. “Do you wanna be wearing this when you go hang out with your little friend today?”

Your little friend, MJ almost scoffs out loud, but manages to school his expression into one of pure professionalism. “Yes, mom. Nothin' wrong with it,” he answers breezily.

She hovers. "I mean, it might make your friend think that... uhm, well. You know, it might give the wrong impression. He'll think you two are on a date! You're not allowed to date."

"Sure, mom. Except he knows I'm a model. The whole city does at this point." His tone drips with teenage attitude.

She lets him go.

Then, he’s unbuttoning his shirt and untying a sparkly scarf doubling as a belt to hold up the comically baggy jeans he was assigned to wear today, impatient to shrug himself out of those clothes and jump into his own so he can finally, finally, finally run down to the little cafe he told Miles to meet him at.

His mother was busy on a tablet typing away at something, chatting with MJ's agent once he found his way over to them, and even when neither of them noticed much about MJ on any other day, it seemed they were paying special attention to the way he was throwing his clothes back on with obvious glee now.

MJ had never smiled this much around them, and they sure took note of it now.

“Heard you’re getting ready to meet with a friend, MJ,” his agent told him once he turned his attention back to his client.

“Yyyep,” MJ answered noncommittally. He threw on a coat and started to reach for his messenger bag, stopping when a hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

“We’re gonna keep in touch with the team, and keep updating you on the status of the shoot, but we gotta make sure you’ve got your phone on, right?” His agent looked him directly in the eye. “It’s great that you’re making friends again, Em, but you have to keep your head in the game.”

Yeah, of course. “Don’t let anything distract you from helping me make money” is what you mean, MJ thought ruefully, blinking back innocently.

He nodded and offered his agent a casual smile. “I mean yeah. He’s just a friend, I’m not gonna let that get in the way of my job. Don’t worry,” he adds, “I got my phone on. Hit me up when something cool happens.”

His agent and his mother exchange glances, but agree to release him anyways.

“I mean, he’s still a kid,” he hears his mother say as he quickly exits the room and finds his way towards the elevators. “I let him have a little fun every once in a while! The real work doesn’t start until he’s older right? Might as well let him have this for now..."

MJ rubs his thumb up and down along the edge of his phone case, feeling the bumps of the volume keys over and over.

He steps into the elevator when the doors slide open. He punches the button for the main lobby and stares down at his messages with Miles.

Yes, he thinks a bit vindictively, the real work doesn’t start until he’s older.

She definitely isn’t wrong about that.

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"You ever think about running away at all?" Hobie asked Miles rather suddenly after they got their usual greetings done and over with.

The cafe Hobie picked was cute, quaint, and very small. A nice little reprieve from the noisy halls of their school and the bustling city streets, since the business didn't seem to have any other patrons at this hour aside from the two boys.

They picked their seats right next to the window and opted to people-watch for a bit as they scrolled through the cafe's stylized menu on their phones. The lighting of the late-afternoon day illuminated Hobie in such gorgeous warm light that Miles was almost suspicious; did he pick this place specifically because the late sun's rays would bounce off of nearby skyscrapers and cast them both in the best mood lighting New York City had to offer? It sure seemed like it.

Hobie leaned back in his seat and gave Miles the most charming smile he's seen on a guy yet, erasing his suspicions from his brain entirely. And... well, anything else as well.

"Uhhh," Miles offered intelligently.

Hobie huffed a laugh in response. "It's okay, I know it's a weird question. Forget I said it."

Miles shook his head. "Wait, no. Sorry, what'd you say again? I'm, uhm. Sorry, I think I'm just a little tired. Kind of out of it,"

Hobie nodded sagely, setting his phone aside for the time being. "Hmm, late night homework, right? Essays maybe?"

They chuckled and grinned at each other cheesily, the knowledge that they shared a big secret between them settling comfortably and cozily like a fat cat curling up near a fireplace. It was nice, kinda. To be in on something that not many other people were, like an inside joke or a long-running bit between old friends.

But then Miles' earlier conversation with Ganke at the school cafeteria floated back up in his mind again and he had to bite his lip to keep from frowning suddenly. He looked down, a bit ashamed.

"Hobie--" he started.

"MJ," Hobie interrupted, chin in his hand now.

Miles looked up. "MJ. Oh, yeah. Right, sorry."

"I don't really like my given name, so no one calls me that. Just call me MJ. Or Em, even. That's what my agent calls me."

"Agent. Geez. So you didn't really answer my question earlier, back when we first met," here, Miles folded his arms on the table in front of him. "How famous are you, really?"

MJ grinned like a mischievous cat, chin still in one hand. "You've been on my Flicksta page this entire time since you found it. How famous do you think I am? Not that hard to do research nowadays, right?"

Miles felt his face heating up. "H-how'd you know about that?"

"You liked a post of mine that I made like... last year, dude. I saw."

Miles silently cursed himself out as he shut his eyes in embarrassment and winced. "Yikes. Alright, I guess you caught me. That was my bad for sure!"

MJ's grin was crooked. "Yeah, I'm... pretty well-known. Not supermodel status yet obviously, but I've been on a couple billboards. Posters, some ads. I'm training to walk some shows. Whatever." He leaned back in his seat again and messed with his sweater's sleeves a little as he spoke. Distantly, Miles noticed how expensive MJ's clothing really looked, how plush the knit of his sweater was, and the tailoring of his coat.

"Whatever," Miles echoed inquisitively. "Do you hate it? Is that why you wanna run away?"

They met eyes.

"I thought I told you to forget that question, Morales," MJ replies coolly. "It was a weird one. I dunno why I even said it,"

Miles, sensing something in the air between them, wondered if he should have changed the subject. Too bad his mouth had a less-than-stellar track record of listening to his brain.

Instead, he opened it and quietly said: "If we're gonna be friends, and if you want me to not web you up to a pole somewhere in Manhattan, I gotta know your deal."

"Mn, my deal," MJ repeated warily.

"Yeah," Miles sighed, already resigning himself to just getting this over and done with already. No time like the present, right? "You mentioned... you mentioned having a camera and connections. And you're just... weird, man. Like, no offense but you being in Central Park when you were that one time? Running away from those gang members who looked like they were gonna strangle you for takin' their flash drive away from 'em? That was super risky. Something's up."

MJ nodded, still looking apprehensive but also like he wanted to give in. "Right, I've got your big secret. Now you wanna have one of mine. Fair, I guess."

Miles shrugged helplessly. "If we're gonna be friends... I mean, it is fair, right?"

MJ glanced around at the empty seats around them, grateful that even the cashier seems to have gone to the back so that they were both totally alone together. Good spot to pick after all, he thought to himself. He kept his voice down just in case anyways.

He licked his lips and leaned his elbows on the table. "Yeah. I get it. It's a big thing you're doing for the city, y'know... doin' what you do. So here it is: I hate being a model."

Miles blinked at him, waiting for more. MJ didn't immediately being speaking again so he made a go on kind of motion with a hand.

MJ laughed a bit, shaking his head. "This is gonna be stupid. It's gonna sound so stupid! God," he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle and looked outside at a small stream of people walking past, all in a hurry to get on with whatever it was that occupied their lives.

"... About as stupid as some kid from Brooklyn putting on a costume to go out and fight crime?" Miles smiled patiently.

"Well, kinda. It was because of some punk kid from Brooklyn putting on that costume to go fight crime that I finally had the courage to like, go out there and get into my little hobby of breaking and entering, snooping around places I shouldn't, trying to help people..." MJ stopped when he saw the look on his friend's face.

"You...?" Miles started, his lips forming the shape of the words he wanted to say but not quite letting them out into the open just yet.

Did he hear that right?

As if reading his thoughts, MJ nodded. "When you took up the mantle of Spiderman after our first guy died, I took it as a sign. To like... finally just do it, right? I guess all that was left was just taking the leap, y'know what I mean?"

Miles suppressed a shudder as he nodded along, pushing Peter B's lectures out of his mind for the moment.

"I hate being a model," MJ continued, a single loc falling into his determined face, "because I wanna be a journalist. Like... an investigative journalist. But I also like science stuff as well. I guess I dunno what I really wanna be when I'm older. All I know is... I have got to get away from my overbearing mom."

"Or else," Miles finishes for him, tilting his head as if to say remember our conversation at the park?

MJ grimly confirmed it. "Or else," he replied.

Miles blew out a breath and leaned all the way back in his own seat, folding his arms over his chest. "Wow."

"Yeah, heavy stuff. I know," MJ tossed his locs back over his shoulders and glanced up at the posted menu hanging high above the register. The cashier returned from the back, placing several different pastries from a baking tray into the cafe's clean little glass display at the counter.

"Wanna...?" MJ pointed his chin at them, already pushing his chair out to get up.

"Oh, yeah. Food! Duh," Miles answered and got up to follow suit. How could he possibly forget?

The rest of their hangout goes over wonderfully after the grim conversation, all things considered. They opt to chat amicably about surface-level stuff mostly; family dynamics, friends, schoolwork and more about MJ's day job as a model.

"My mom acts like she's my agent most days, too." MJ is recounting this in between sips of his black coffee, long fingers nursing the ceramic cup he was given. "She's the one who got me into these modeling gigs in the first place. She said I had 'the look'... whatever that means. I like bein' behind the camera, though. Not in front of it," he lamented.

Miles spears some lettuce that fell out of his sandwich with the toothpick his side of pickle came with, waving it around as he talks. "Your mom sounds like the type of parent that pushes their kids around a lot. I guess I would know what that's like,"

Sensing a chance to commiserate in their shared dilemma, MJ leans forward a bit and smiles. "Your folks sounded nice when you described them. What's up?"

"I love them, and they sure do love me, but," Miles shakes his head and picks the lettuce off of his toothpick. "I dunno. They want the best for me and... sometimes it feels like nothing else matters but that."

MJ has the lower half of his face carefully hidden behind his mug when he asks: "Have you told them?"

Miles sighed, long and loud. "Yep. Yeah. They know. They do. That was... a very long story but. Anyways, yeah, after all the stuff that went down this spring, I finally had to fess up. No one else knows but you guys, though, I swear."

Miles silently patted himself on the back for managing to completely omit Ganke from the conversation. Can't give up his ace up his sleeve so soon, now can he?

MJ nods sympathetically. "I wasn't kidding, you know. Back when I told you that your secret was safe with me. You've got one of mine, so. No one else but us,"

Miles raises a pinkie over their plates and makes eye contact with him. "Pinkie promise?"

MJ's eyes flash at him.

"Duh. I never break promises," he replies, hooking pinkies together and smiling. "I'm not really in the business of ruining the life of a pretty great hero right now."

"Until it benefits you, you mean," Miles says, really only half-joking.

MJ doesn't take the bait. Instead, he deflects the best way he knows how. "Oh yeah, absolutely. If someone's out there putting a billion-dollar bounty on your head someday, you already know I'm goin' for it. What? It's a billion dollars, dude!"

They laugh together as Miles throws a piece of tomato in his direction and MJ threatens to pour the rest of his coffee onto his lap.

It felt good, felt natural. Their banter was smooth and seamless which Miles thought was a relief because very few people he encountered in life wanted to keep up with his constant sarcasm and nerdy jokes. No one else seemed to share his sense of humor except for MJ, and it made him feel a bit of warmth in his chest.

Even if they only stayed friends, he seemed to be a great companion to have nonetheless. And Miles had Ganke as backup in case anything went wrong between them. It was a daunting thing to come to terms with, the fact that such a cool guy like Hobie M. Jones had the ability to stab him behind his back at any moment's notice, or accidentally let Miles' secret double life as the crime-fighting webslinger out at the most inopportune time.

But... it wouldn't be the first time a friend has double-crossed him.

Miles wasn't stupid. He knew that letting more and more people in on his secret identity was a huge gamble, especially when it came to keeping a secret as big as this was. The risk was too high, the rewards might not even be worth it.

Worst of all, his friends could be legit and then get hurt if they ever found themselves somehow caught in the crosshairs of his other life.

... But Miles didn't want to think about that right now. That was a problem for future him. Right now, they were both too busy being what neither of their own families seemed to want them to be: a pair of carefree kids.

In this moment, MJ didn't have to worry about stifling and busy schedules arranged for him without his consent. He didn't have to worry about itchy fabrics or ill-fitting designer clothes or loud and bright cameras capturing his every move. With Miles, he could finally let loose.

And in this moment, Miles didn't have to worry about crime-fighting (for now), juggling mountains of schoolwork to please his parents, or keeping up appearances so he didn't arouse suspicions as to where he always was when he managed to slip away. With MJ, he could relax a little and enjoy the small things that always escaped his notice as he rushed this way and that, desperately trying to keep up with the chaos of his everyday life. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously when they were together.

They finished up their meal and exited the cafe, thanking the cashier and pulling on their coats to hopefully battle the frigid winter air of the city. They made their way up and down blocks, past shops and restaurants, weaving in and out of passing crowds on the sidewalk.

As they wandered aimlessly, unable to escape each other's gravitational pull for even one second, they talked some more.

They talked about Miles' art, MJ's secret science experiments in his room and how he fought his mom to get into Visions in the first place, about Miles' parents and his daily workload he usually juggles. They tried talking about Miles' start as Spiderman, but they didn't get too far along that topic before realizing there were only so many code words they could use to say what they wanted to say out loud before devolving into a fit of giggles.

They chatted about their plans after they graduate, how Miles still wants to go to Princeton and how MJ is planning on funding his own college education once he saves up enough money to leave his station in life and go wherever the wind takes him.

Miles seemed a bit sad at the thought that their friendship looked to have an eventual expiration date in the future, but there didn't seem to be anything changing MJ's mind anytime soon. After all, he didn't even know if he was going to keep in touch with Ganke once they stopped being roommates. And they ended up being pretty tight, against all odds.

So as they kept their casual pace through the city, Miles made a mental note to remember and cherish days like these as much as he could. He checked his phone for the time... this blissful moment of normalcy would have to end soon.

"So," Miles said once their long conversation eventually wound down. Their feet had taken them to a nearby subway station, the gum-covered concrete steps already beckoning them both to bid each other adieu.

"So..." MJ glanced at him, stopping them both by the railing and smiling down at his friend.

The day was drawing to a close, the sun had fully set about half an hour ago and they both needed to get out of the streets and back to their regular everyday lives. For Miles, this meant he had to get at least an hour of patrolling in before swinging back to his dorm room and getting started on his studies for their chem test on Monday.

For MJ, it meant returning back to Manhattan and steeling himself in preparation for the eventual lecture he knew he was going to get, about not staying out so late without supervision and how he didn't respond in time to his agent's texts. The usual.

"I hate to say it, but it's lookin' like we might have to say goodbye for now," Miles shrugged, hanging his head for comical effect.

MJ laughed brightly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound like you don't even wanna leave."

"You might be right about that. Wish me luck tonight, I gotta... y'know," Miles leaned casually as he could manage against the railing, shrugging a shoulder.

"Right. Do your extracurriculars,"

Miles groaned. "Yuck. Let's not call it that, please! You sound like my dad. Let's just call it my weird hobby instead."

"Okay, so I guess I gotta let you go to do your weird hobby instead, then."

"Which just so happens to be graffiti, by the way," Miles' lips quirk up mischievously, giving MJ a look as he slowly slides against the railing and places a foot on the first step. "I like to spray paint around the city every now and then... in case anyone wants to know. In case they ask."

MJ bobs his head in response, following Miles' movements. "Ah, right. Spray painting! Super cool. Anyone asks where you are, I got your back, man."

Miles' smile is as dazzling as it is endearing as he places a hand on the metal railing and lowers himself some more, unable to bring himself to cut the invisible rope anchoring him and MJ together, holding them there in that one space as a constant stream of New Yorkers climb up and down the steps beside them.

Thank you New York City, Miles finds himself thinking.

No one glanced in their direction, they were completely surrounded by people, but still alone. The lights of nearby shop signs and street lamps gave MJ a bit of a halo around his hair, and from the angle he was standing at, Miles looked up at it and believed that it made him just glow.

They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, the usual noise of the city falling easily into the background. It was just the two of them.

"... Yeah." Miles says a bit awkwardly, unable to pull away. "Yeah, that sounds... good. Great. Thanks man! You're a real one,"

MJ smiles knowingly above him. "So you might wanna head on down now. Don't wanna keep you from catching your train."

Miles grins back. "Right. My train."

"Go get 'em, Tiger." MJ responds, offering him a little salute with his fingers and finally turning away to disappear into the thick crowds that flowed up and down the city sidewalks like water.

After a little bit, Miles felt like he could breathe normally again.

He descended down.

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Miles' life went right back to normal, with a new element added in.

He still rushed through his days of back-breaking homework and tests, still tried to keep up with the crime-fighting and his family back home who kept pestering him with exclamations about how he was always late to events and get-togethers, especially as the holidays rolled around.

(His mother pulled him aside for a quick little chat on how he needs to get better at communicating where he was so that she and Jeff could make up excuses for him ahead of time)

He still gamed mindlessly with Ganke on most weekends after their school break ended and the students all traveled back to their dorms, he still texted his extra-dimensional friends whenever he was free and had a minute to spare.

But now he made some space for another special person in his life: Hobie M. Jones.

They passed notes back and forth in the classes they shared like a pair of friends back in elementary school (to avoid leaving a trail of evidence on their phones, Miles argued when he brought it up to MJ, who just laughed) and walked each other to their classes whenever they could.

But it was risky business keeping someone like MJ so close, especially if it could arouse suspicion when Spiderman happened to swoop in and save him out of the blue. Both Miles and Spiderman hovering around MJ's vicinity day in and day out could be a possible liability to contend with indeed, so Miles still tried keeping his distance whenever possible.

For what it was worth, MJ seemed to understand. He was also occasionally followed by cameras from online fans in the real world or opportunistic reporters looking to try and pry precious info of a new marketing campaign MJ happened to be a part of, so this kind of life wasn't new to him either.

Thankfully, he agreed it was best to only get together in private.

As the months flew by, exams and assignments came and went, but their friendship only flourished.

Miles found himself admitting some surprising things to MJ on late-night text conversations when he couldn't sleep and needed to hop out of his dorm window to burn some energy. He found himself doodling his friend in his sketchbook often, unable to scrub the images of his flawless modeling photos from his brain.

He found himself... doodling their names together on hastily discarded sticky notes and coming up with illegible graffiti so he can mash their names together on stickers and shamelessly slap them up onto signs, onto walls, onto bathroom stalls and stairwells and notebooks and poles and bus stops and--

Miles startled out of a reverie as he was balancing himself on a random window ledge somewhere in the city, fully suited up, sketchbook in hand as he doodled little hearts around a profile study of MJ. Tucked under the page he was working on was an embarrassing amount of stickers with his and MJ's last names on them.

God. The humiliation he would face if MJ ever got his hands on this book. His mind flashes back to the sheer embarrassment he felt back when Gwen suddenly dropped down into his room from a portal and began to leaf through his old sketchbook, finding one too many drawings of her own face in the pages.

The memories snapped him out of his weird love-induced haze and forced him to shamefully fold over the corner of the page and hide those little hearts.

First, you ran away from him after you figured out he was an MJ, now you're obsessed with him. ¿Quién te puedes entender?

The sound of Miles' conscience was taking the harsh shape of his mother's voice. Not good.

He sighed and shut his sketchbook, shoving it into his backpack that was webbed onto the wall right next to him. Crime never slept, but it did have its ebbs and flows that Miles found himself in tune with as the months went by. This hour on a Thursday evening happened to be one of the slower hours for crime fighting, it seemed.

Regardless, he yanked his bag from its sticky confines and brushed the webs off, straightening himself up from his position and mindlessly checking his phone for any pressing updates.

Finding none, and with nothing much else to do... he sent MJ a quick text.

Miles: Busy rn?

He knocked himself on the forehead for it, knowing he might regret what he was about to propose but... he couldn't get the guy out of his head. He was dreaming about MJ on the regular now, which was never a good sign. Might as well see if he was up to doing any crazy last-minute stunts since the heart seemed to want what it wanted.

The reply came almost immediately after.

MJ: Nope, just surrounded by a pile of annoying hw, why do you ask?

Miles grinned as he typed a quick reply, hit send, and shot a web up to climb to the roof of the building.

Miles: I'm thinking I'm like... about a 15 mins walk away from your place. Wanna hang? I can swing by

He can almost taste the eye roll in MJ's replies, which made him smile beneath his mask.

MJ: You're corny as hell and that's exactly why you're my friend

MJ: Just give me a few to get ready

Miles sends back an affirmative, and tucks his phone right into his bag's side pocket which he then throws over a shoulder. He turns towards the general direction that MJ's penthouse apartment is located, right over the Brooklyn Bridge.

On his way there, he rehearses all of the coolest lines he could think of, not quite hoping to impress his friend or anything, but hoping that maybe MJ won't see him for the weird dork everyone else treats him as. And... to also keep him from suspecting anything or whatever.

They've hung out together countless times before, after their initial meetup. And not once did flawless-fashionable-cool-model MJ make him feel like he was ever uncool or off-putting. Maybe that was why Miles was so infatuated with him, when it came down to it. Still a good idea to play it safe, just in case.

It would have served Miles much better if he gave this friendship an even wider berth, retained his mysterious reputation... but there was something so arresting about MJ's eyes, his mannerisms and gentleness that contrasted so sharply with his quick wit, surprising bravery and intelligence.

Miles can shoot off the wittiest lines on the planet, but at the end of the day, he was still a boy with a crush. Alas.

In the time that he vaulted around NYC as Earth-1610's Spiderman, Miles developed a knack for snappy one-liners that MJ seemed to find endearing. Whenever they were together, they often fell into good-natured jabs and quips at each other, and he was so enamoured by it.

And it seemed like they just... naturally fell into the gravity of each other's orbit often anyways. Miles would look up into a crowd anywhere at Visions and immediately be able to find MJ. Like he developed an MJ-sense alongside his own spidery ones.

Two twin stars locked in orbit, a binary system forever hurtling through space together.

God, he really needed to get it together. That was super cheesy even for him, and he watched Titanic on his laptop damn near a hundred times at this point.

The thought had him yanking on his webs much harder and flying through the late evening air just to burn off the heat that built up in his gut.

He had to quickly remind himself that regardless of whatever happened between them, he promised that he would forever cherish it all. Miles wasn't an idiot, he knew that being Spiderman put a dampener on a lot of his relationships in life. It was a constant tug-of-war between him and his parents, and Ganke often reminds him of how absent he is at school, even when he's present.

Whatever happens between him and MJ in the future is whatever happens. Miles has already made peace with the inevitability of reality, like he so often needed to in this life. No need to get his hopes up.

Sobering up, Spiderman does several somersaults in the air before attaching a web onto the corner of MJ's swanky high-rise located not too far from the bridge. He sticks to the reflective glass and lets gravity do all the work for him as he drops down a few stories, hoping he was just a quick black blur that could be chalked up to just being a bird of some kind in case anyone happened to glance out their windows.

He hasn't been over to MJ's apartment at all, but knows the building from the outside very well thanks to the two friends' prior escapades. MJ's mom was strict according to him, and after sneaking them both out of the window to go to a mall or hang out at a park, swing around the city a bit and then drop MJ off back home, Spiderman was well acquainted with his bedroom window as a result.

He finds it again effortlessly and hangs upside down by a web, slowly lowering himself into view.

MJ's eyes light up immediately upon seeing him. He perks up, gets up from his computer chair to carefully lock the bedroom door and moves right back to his window.

"Well hello there, Spiderman! Glad you could make it." MJ smiles warmly, keeping his voice down. "Sorry, mom and the team are in the living room and I just told her I'm lockin' myself in here to study as hard as I can. Finals coming up and all... but we don't have too much time."

"Which is why you're only stepping out for a bit of air, right? Real quick, I promise." Spiderman replies good-naturedly. "It'll help clear your head."

MJ huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Where would I be without you?"

"It's Spiderman's job to help all of the citizens of New York... and you look like you could use it, so,"

MJ slides his window open even wider, already throwing a leg over the sill. "My hero."

Together, they drop down a few stories, just free-falling and enjoying the chill of the late evening for a few seconds, shrouded by the dusk's descent that was already darkening the vast sky above them.

MJ gasps breathlessly when Spiderman shoots out a web and sends them sailing over congested streets filled to the brim with cars and trucks, over tall street lamps and past bright digital billboards advertising all kinds of products.

They zoom past more buildings, arcing gracefully around corners. At one point, MJ dares to loosen a grip on Spiderman's shoulders and splay his fingers out against the wind.

They fly together like birds for a minute more, soaring through the air and then rounding right back on the path they carved into it so Spiderman could deposit his friend right back home.

MJ said they didn't have much time, right? And Miles was satisfied with their short little hangout anyhow. He got his hands on his crush, had him clinging onto his arms and his neck the entire time they were airborne. It was getting late and he had to head back to Visions himself as well.

"Take me up to the roof real quick," MJ pants into his ear. Miles tries very hard not to think too much about that as he wordlessly follows orders and makes a beeline for the roof access.

Together, they land near the edge, overlooking the concrete jungle that was Manhattan, surrounded on all sides by tall buildings that seemed to reach up to heavens, still much taller than MJ's own building.

It was a miracle they weren't seen together, but that might've been because of the glitter and glitz of the city night all around them. New Yorkers never really looked up anyways.

Below them, the traffic and the bustle of the city continued at its usual pace; a constant thrum of vibrations, sounds and lights as they flowed up and down the streets like blood cells traveling through veins.

Both boys leaned their elbows onto the roof's raised edge and peered all around them, enjoying their temporary peace, catching their breath.

"I'm real glad I met you, you know?" MJ says, uncharacteristically sincere. His face was an open door now, but he was still unable to meet Spiderman's eyes.

Miles thought it might be appropriate to keep his mask on for now.

"Man, I only swung us around for like a few minutes. You don't need to confess your love for me, I'll take a thanks as payment. That's all." He joked but still tried to keep the sarcasm light. Didn't want to ruin the moment, after all.

MJ offered a crooked smirk at that, but then sobered up again. "Nah, really, man. I mean it. I'm not sure where I'd be right now if I hadn't transferred over to Visions and literally bumped into you. Crazy how life works like that, huh?"

"Right, especially since you were my biggest fan before that," Miles reminds him. "Serendipity or whatever."

MJ nods slowly. "Serendipity. Yeah... exactly. Sorry. What did you just say?"

Caught off guard, Miles hesitates for a bit. Play dumb, Morales!

"Uhh, what did I just say?"

MJ laughs, punching Miles on the arm before folding his own arms over his chest. "I was a fan of the old Spiderman before you came along. When he died..." he averts his eyes, studying his shoes. "Yeah, that sucked. But then you came along out of the blue... anyways. I just took it as a sign, that's all."

Miles dramatically wilts against the side of the roof. "Daaamnn, bro. I just swung you around the city for a bit! I gave you a free ride, and I don't even get to be your favorite? I see how it is."

MJ bursts out laughing. "Don't worry, Spiderman," he says, holding up his hands placatingly. "You're on your way to replacing him soon enough! Keep giving me those free rides. And uh... thanks," he finishes lamely, raising his hand to shoot his friend a salute. "Yeah. Thanks. For this."

They smile sheepishly at each other for a few seconds and Miles swears he's going to start roasting alive in his suit pretty soon from the way the warmth in his chest was radiating outward towards every limb.

Butterflies were swirling inside of his gut and he swears he can hear the sappy music from a romance movie Miles watched recently playing somewhere near them. Maybe now was the time to... stop avoiding his feelings? Take that leap of faith, right?

He's done it many times before. This time was probably no different than any other time where he's been thrown way out of his comfort zone only to be kinda glad it happened, in retrospect.

He opened his mouth and started to speak at the same time MJ did.

"So, Em--"

"Uh, so--"

They jumped in unison, wide eyes meeting wide lenses. MJ dipped his head.

"Oh, sorry I was--" Miles chuckled, bopping his forehead with a hand. "S-sorry, what were you gonna say?"

He winced at the jarring awkwardness of it all. The sappy music went silent, the mood thoroughly ruined.

"Oh, well, uh--" MJ looked just as flustered as Miles felt. "N-nah, sorry, I was just gonna say that... that it's been a little while now. So I should probably be heading back," he gestured awkwardly over his shoulder towards the side of the building, trailing off.

"Riiiight, right. Yeah, duh. Of course. Just, uh," Miles turns so his back is facing his friend, gesturing at it as if to say hop on. "Lost track of time, I guess. My bad,"

"What were you gonna say?" MJ asks, right next to Miles' ear as always.

Silently, Miles tucks that part of himself away again for later.

He was really 100% willing to risk it all and go for it, just fully display all of that for a measly chance at getting to date the most popular kid at school right now, and one of the coolest people that he's ever met. He would kick himself if he weren't carrying him right there on his back.

What a stupid idea, Miles. Real dumb, even for you.

In a fraction of a second, he stuffs his emotions right back down in him. Time and place. Not the time, not the place, he reasons. They'd just met a few months ago, and they got off on a pretty rocky start. It just wasn't the time to be making such rash decisions. Yeah, that was it.

"Nah, forget it. I think I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me and Ganke to our favorite comic shop this weekend, but that's a dumb question--"

MJ suddenly squeezed his hands tighter around Miles' shoulders. "Duh! It's a dumb question because the answer is obviously yes, of course."

"You like comic books!? Since when?" Miles exclaimed in shock.

"I'm beating you as the top student in chem class right now. You are not nerdier than me. Stop playin' with me." MJ grumbles grumpily. He digs his chin vindictively into Miles' shoulder.

Miles' loud bark of laughter echoed off the rooftop as he takes a running leap towards the ledge, hops on it and promptly sends them plummeting several stories down.

MJ's cry echoed around them even louder.

After about a minute or so, MJ's back inside of his room and they're both trying very hard to suppress laughter so hard that their cheeks hurt and they're crying tears.

Thankfully, outside of the bedroom door, MJ's family never heard a thing.

[ambagel]

Worst decision of my life

NOOOO

GRIM IM SORRY I LOVE YOU

IM SORRY STITCH AUGH

Also no matter what you pick, Grim is all like "That's MY hench-human!" *SOB*

[izanori]

idk who needs to hear this, but if it hasnt already been done i want to clear up some things

Fashion Dreamer is not Style Savvy. BUT. It’s created by Syn Sophia, just like Style Savvy was. So, if you’re still holding out for a title that’s specifically called Style Savvy it’s time to give up, because it’s very safe to assume that Fashion Dreamer is meant to be Style Savvy’s spiritual successor. This may be due to influencers and other internet personalities being way more popular than wanting to run a store among children these days.

so… yea. ^_^

[sysig]

VUXPet (Patreon)

[aria0fgold]

A confession of wishes for a future without you.

Ren sat up from the bed, he couldn't sleep. He's been lying down for hours now, eyes closed even, and yet he still couldn't find his own sleep. Morgana laid beside him, sound asleep. He carefully got up, so as to not disturb him. Making sure to walk quietly in his room while looking for something, anything to help him sleep. A book, a distraction, whatever it is that he can find. So he began his search and not even a minute later, stumbled upon a box. One far too familiar that he froze when he saw it. How many months had it been since he had that box now? He doesn't know, didn't want to keep track of that time, didn't even want to think about anything in regards to it at all.

A small black box with intricate designs painted in red, it wasn't locked, in fact, it can easily be opened. But Ren never did open it. He didn't want to, he didn't want to know what's inside it, didn't want to face the reality that Kaito— that he— that his friend is… He wanted to bathe in the pool of lies he made for himself, that Kaito's sudden disappearance isn't too much of a big deal, that someday, maybe just maybe, he'll come back again. He continued to lie to himself like that, ever since Kaito disappeared.

Perhaps, it's time to face reality once more.

Ren took a deep breath, opening and closing his hand in an effort to steady its trembling, in an effort to gather enough courage to open the box he had been avoiding ever since he first saw it, days after he lost all contact with Kaito. It was hidden underneath the bed, Ren moved it somewhere else, farther from him yet in its own safe place. Just like what he wished and hoped for Kaito as well, far from him yet safe. So he kept wishing, over and over again.

Please be safe, please be safe, please be safe.

That's how wishes work, right? To think it three times, say it thrice, and believe with all your heart for it to be real. So he held onto that hope. No matter how small it was, he held onto it like a precious gem nestled within his palm, threatening to shatter at the slightest jolt.

Ren took a few more deep breaths, until finally, he reached for the box and lifted its lid. In it was a letter, white with a blue ribbon, and a monocle beside it. Ren can feel the gears in his brain coming to a halt, slowly… slowly… it'd freeze in time, but not now, not yet. Mechanically, Ren stood up and walked towards the bed, he sat by the edge, near the window to put an arm on, to lean his body on. For support maybe, for a hope perhaps, that once he's finished reading the letter. Kaito would appear in his white suit with his cape flowing in the wind, the magician in the moonlight.

That's what this is, isn't it? A confession of secrets. He had an idea about it, infamous internationally wanted criminal, Kaito KID was Kaito Kuroba's other identity. He had a feeling that was the case but never pursued the thought, it'd be unfair, won't it? For Ren to intrude into Kaito's secret when he has his own secrets to hide. So it'd just be fair, to not know. To pretend to not know anything. To pretend that the thief he saw on the rooftop that day isn't someone he knows even though he's so painfully aware of it. It's only fair that way.

Ren took another deep breath, swallowing hard as he prepared to open the letter, setting aside the box with the monocle still inside by the window sill.

His heart skips a beat at the sight of his name, written by Kaito's hand.

“Dear Renren,” it starts, “How are you? Knowing you, you probably didn't open this letter until months had passed, I bet! ”

Ren quietly chuckled at that, he was right. Kaito was always too good at reading people. “That's alright though, I won't blame you because I'm such a gentleman,” A small face was drawn there, it looked like Kaito smirking at him, how cute. “I'm sure you've already seen the other item in the box, it was right on top of the letter you're reading now after all! ” He drew a monocle then. Ren held his breath as he read through the next passage.

“What I'm about to tell you, is a confession of a secret! You can't tell anyone about this! This is our own little secret.” A winking Kaito was drawn there, adorable. Ren giggled as he whispered to the wind, to himself, and to the Kaito that wrote the letter.

I promise.

“I'm Kaito KID.” Party poppers were drawn on both sides of that phrase, confetti doodled around it, he really was adorable… “Although… I had a feeling you already knew about this.”

He really was good at reading people.

“It's so anti-climactic doing this on paper too. I wish I could tell you in person instead, I'd love to see your reaction.”

Ren's breath hitched then. His mind slowly drawing a blank, please be safe, please be safe, please be safe. He repeated in his head. Like a chant, a good luck charm, filled with the hope burning his chest, threatening to explode.

“Renren… I know this is kinda cliche but by the time you're reading this, I probably didn't make it after all.”

Ren gripped the paper tightly then, and immediately let go. He shouldn't… ruin Kaito's letter. There was… there was still more to read through… A prank, maybe, a mistake perhaps, please let this be a nightmare he can wake up from. Ren took a deep breath, gathering himself to continue reading once more.

“Hey, Renren, I may not be there while you're reading this but I can tell you're sad right now! Come on, turn that frown upside down! You know I don't like seeing you sad, right…?

…I'm sorry.”

Ren inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the urge to cry growing deep inside him, like a dam waiting to burst, a pipe waiting to break, a heart waiting to shatter. It took him a moment to continue reading it.

“I know, I know... there's a lot of questions you want to ask right? And I… I don't think I can answer any of it, after all...

Hey, Renren… How about a magic trick? It'd be hard to pull this off in a letter but here! ” In the next part, four cards were drawn face down, or rather, drawings of four small face down cards were partly glued to the paper, a small tape keeping it shut. “Pick one!”

Ren reached for the second card, carefully peeling off the tape, behind it revealed an 'Ace of Hearts'. Ren bit his lip then, to stop it from trembling.

“Hehehe, You chose the second card, didn't you? And no! Before you start thinking, 'it doesn't matter what card I pick, all of them is the same.' Well, then mister! You can open the other cards to double check it! I assure you that they aren't all the same! ”

And so Ren did. He carefully peeled off the tape from the rest of the cards.

The first card revealed an “I”

The third card revealed a “You”

The fourth card revealed a “Forever”

The last card, was stained with a droplet.

The droplet, was accompanied by another then.

Ren couldn't stop himself anymore. He put the letter on the window sill, slowly, carefully, with a trembling hand, he reached for the box, brought it on top the letter as weight. He reached inside it, for the monocle for him to hold, to steady his trembling hands. Ren sobbed, quietly, soundlessly, he cried in silence so as to not disturb anyone.

“…Ren?”

But that was all in vain at the sound of Morgana's voice.

“Are you… crying?! What happened?! What's wrong?!” Morgana shot upright at the realization, immediately running to Ren's side. Ren couldn't really answer him even if he wanted to, so Morgana looked around for answers. He didn't need to look far.

He stared at the box, at the letter, and at the monocle Ren was clutching. It was enough.

“…Oh.” Morgana's ears drooped and twitched, he didn't quite know what to do, Ren's cries makes his heart ache, he wanted to comfort him but how? Grief isn't so easily comforted. After thinking awhile, Morgana settled upon sitting beside Ren. “I'm… I'm here for you, okay?”

Ren couldn't answer still, but he was grateful for it. Grateful for Morgana, grateful that there's someone there for him while his world was breaking. Kaito was so unfair… selfish…

. . .

Seconds passed, and then minutes, Morgana had found where the tissue box is and moved it near Ren, he had found a water bottle nearby too, placing it just beside the tissue box. Minutes passed, and then hours. The empty trash can that Morgana moved near Ren as well now contained tissues, the water bottle that was once full was nearly empty. And the quiet cries that filled the room turned into quiet sobs.

Morgana rubbed Ren's back with his paw, in hopes of comforting him further. Until finally, Ren calmed down. Enough to take deep breaths to compose himself.

“…Thanks…” He whispered, voice hoarse.

“Mn… How are you feeling now?”

“…Tired.” Ren glanced at the letter.

“Why don't you wait until tomorrow to continue reading it?” Worry was evident in Morgana's voice.

He should, he really should just wait a bit before reading again, that fit of crying made him tired enough to want to sleep already but… He wanted to finish reading it tonight.

Ren gazed out the window, he stared at the sky, as dark as it was that faithful night. He stared at the stars flickering on and off, he remembered the split second he saw the stars reflected in the eyes of that magician as he turned to face them. He stared at the moon, peeking through the buildings, it was a full moon, much like that night. The view of the moon behind a mysterious magician donned in a white suit and top hat with a cape flowing behind him. It was a magical sight that Ren will remember no matter how much time has passed.

Ren took a shaky breath. He reached for the letter, the monocle in the other hand.

“I'm sorry…” Ren's eyes stung, “I deserved to be yelled at right now, you can call me unfair, and selfish, and stupid! You can shout it to the sky, I'll be sure to hear it. But Renren…

Ren. I wanted to tell you how I felt, because I doubt I'd have a chance to say it to you if not now. I'm sorry, maybe I should've told you about it before… this. But then I think, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for hurting you way more than how you're hurting now, all because of me. Just know that, I love you, and I want the best for you, even if I'm not around you anymore, even if I'm not there anymore. I'll always love you forever and ever! All the times we spent together were the most precious memories I have… Well, had.

Hey, Renren… Promise me you'll find someone else to make you happy, alright? Someone, something, anything! I want you to be happy. You better be looking up at the night sky with a smile! I'll be sure to see it.

I love you, Ren.”

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: TUCHANKA (PART 2)

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, Urdnot Wrex, and Dr. Mordin Solus With: Urdnot Bakara And a Special Guest Appearance by: Kalros, Mother of All Thresher Maws I MADE A MISTAKE! I made a mistake... big picture made of little pictures- too many variables. Can't hide behind statistics... can't ignore new data- my responsibility. Need to go- running out of time. Not your work, not your cure- not your decision. Had to be me- someone else might have gotten it wrong... Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[jellophoid]

I wishhhh I wishhhh this game did a twist where they reveal that SHE was the love interest all along

[aestheticitii]

sometimes, i'm like, "eh, i don't like jakob that much" and then i reread his support chain

[germanicusgirl]

Please note that I’m not asking which was the ~best~ but which one is your favorite.

[4giorno]

they are so cute <3333 yeah ignore me im just getting emotional abt this sweet fun date at the circus

[insomniakingdoom]

The best part about egg reset is that I get to date Waldo in between each time

[kiqilinn]

can you give me someone from bsd to draw!!! (i know it started with can but you are actually being forced to do this!!! suffer!!)

Damn, it's four am where I live hmm

You should draw... Kunichuuzai if you don't mind, if you don't want to draw them Mushimizo would be nice

But thank you either way!

[acekoomboom]

characters that are very me-coded but i can't explain how:

Thanks for tagging me in @outer-edges ;) Gah I wanna explain why they're all me so bad but I can't bc that's not how you play.

@watatsumi-island and @the-portal-rule-book you're next :) if you wanna.

Wendy Darling, Peter Pan (2003)/ Peeta Mellark, The Hunger Games/ Jane Villanueva, Jane The Virgin/ Kara Danvers, Supergirl/ Samwise Gamgee, The Lord of the Rings/ Melissa McCall, Teen Wolf (TV)/ Dawn Summers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer/ Sailor Jupiter, Sailor Moon (1992)/ Angela Montenegro, Bones.