#yup i did it again

[aziidaa]

heavy is the crown

[raticalshoez]

Sorry guys. I'm ranting about Joel again because djskakaka that's my favorite guy. This post is a direct result of the tags in a post I reblogged and I just HAD TO TALK ABOUT IT MORE.

Okay, so Joel always carries himself to high regard. He has lots of confidence in himself, is generally apathetic and dry to any matter that doesn't concern him, and he overall loves to bite back at things. He's a big fan of chaos and violence, and stays generally bitter when things go badly for him. He can be ruthless and reckless and that's just natural for him because he's one of the many Life Series wolf-coded characters.

But something about Joel in Secret Life is just...kind? He's kind and caring, in his Joel Smallishbeans way. Especially in later sessions.

In Etho's little remembering the past era, he reassures him that he does still care for him. When Lizzie invites everyone to her party in a rushed frenzy, he attends because he thinks it's only fair. When Pearl was apprehensive about her task being guessed, he purposefully wastes his guess so she doesn't have to be worried around him. He trusts Jimmy to assist him with his task even while everyone else is cautious about his red name status. And when it all came down to it, Joel tells Martyn to stay back after all the reds have dropped like flies because even if all the reds were a threat to them, he still didn't want to see them all die in one episode.

In Secret Life, Joel still has everything he's always had. He's still bloodthirsty and holds silly grudges, evident with the whole Scott thing this session. He's still cheeky and likes to mess around and make sarcastic comments often, but at the end of the day he's Joel. He tends to stay loyal to his allies and I think he's more thoughtful than lots of people realize.

This may be part of the reason I love the Mounders. They were all sort of distant in the way they would wander off and do their own thing, but when it came down to it, they always stuck by each other. They remained loyal despite what seemed to be really loose ends tying them all together, and that means SO much to me! I guess it makes sense though; a team with the lonely wolf girl from Double Life and the lonely wolf boy from Last Life were enough to neutralize the whole, "Bdubs can be kinda disloyal" thing and the whole "Mumbo was apprehensive of any color lesser than he was" thing.

Anyways. Life Series Joel Smallishbeans. That's my guy bro...THAT'S MY GUYYYYYY

Also! The post that inspired this was by @simplydm! Their post about Joel's comment to Martyn reminded me how much that scene made me orbit around the moon so I thought they deserved to mentioned in this. Sorry to them if uh they didn't want to be tagged though. I will remove it if that ends up being the case!

[cowardlykrow]

“don’t lose it now, old boy.”

With @ratb4stard3

[newrhys]

imagine trying to explain this to a normal person

[ibahibut]

Loving both of you is breaking all the rules.

[clowningaroundmars]

heeyyy yaaalllll

so i was thinking to myself, i love punkflower. i really do.

what if there was a hobie in miles' universe and he didnt have to do the whole long distance relationship across dimensions thing, though? just keep his lil secret crush on spiderpunk a secret and keep it pushing, only to literally bump into his own hobie brown in 1610 one day?

wouldnt that be cool, guys?

wouldnt it? :)

wouldnt :) it :) be :) so :) cool? :) and so cute too?

:)

update: >part 2 here<

Miles was late.

It was his first day back, the very beginning of his junior year at Visions Academy and he was late. God damn.

His parents were really gonna kill him this time, no doubt about it. There weren't even any good Spiderman excuses he could use to weasel his way out of getting into trouble this time! He'd just have to cross his fingers and pray that his chemistry teacher for this year wasn't a total hardass like last year's English teacher.

Maybe he could make up some dumb excuse this time, try to wriggle his way into the professor's good graces with some blatant lie. Anyways, whose dumb idea was it to put him in a class so damn far from the entrance doors so early in the mor--

BRRRRRRING!

Miles tore around a corner just as the final bell rang throughout the mostly-empty hallways, inciting panic in his chest and making him nearly launch himself down another hallway just to get to his class.

In his haste, he nearly knocked over a very tall and very... familiar looking person that happened to be in Miles' trajectory. Luckily, bodies didn't end up colliding but the shock of having a person fly so quickly into their line of sight shocked the both of them into skidding to a sudden stop.

The tall person ended up dropping a textbook and what seemed like an enormous packet of papers, because sheets scattered absolutely everywhere, almost like snow.

Ugh. Of course.

They both stared down at the mess in the middle of the hallway floor for a beat.

Then, Miles exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

"Aw man, I-I'm sorry! I just uh... here, lemme just--"

They both bent down to quickly scoop up the papers as Miles stuttered and spoke a hundred miles a minute, trying to apologize for the heart-stopping scare he caused. Just as Miles shuffled the papers together in his hands, he finally looked up at the unlucky student he almost football-tackled first thing in the morning... and nearly dropped the papers onto the floor again.

Kneeled right in front of him with papers and a textbook tucked under a skinny arm, long fingers nervously plucking up what was left of the rest of the packet, was none other than... Hobie Brown.

Oh. God.

This Hobie didn't seem to be Miles' Hobie, though.

(Miles' temperature rose a bit as he quickly thought: wait, my Hobie? That's not right, either.)

Instead of large freeform locs that tapered off like wicks, he was sporting long uniform locs that were piled up high in a loose ponytail on his head, most likely due to the school policy that stated boys needed to have hair above the nape of their neck. Miles kinda wondered about that policy, if he ever decided to grow out his hair; would pulling his hair up be enough? Or would they police his hair length and force him to cut it all off?

Well, turns out the answer was literally right in front of him. Another shock to the system right after the first one.

That was Miles' excuse, really. It was just so dang early in the morning and he really really wasn't thinking when he opened his mouth and basically shouted "Hobie?!"

It honest to god sounded like it echoed in the hallway.

He slapped a hand over his mouth, immediately chastising himself for the stupid mistake he made, mentally kicking himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!! He wasn't supposed to know this guy obviously, they hadn't even met in their dimension yet!

Hobie, for his part, didn't seem perturbed by this at all though. He took the papers from Miles' hands and straightened himself back up to his full height, offering a hand so that Miles could stand up too.

He shrugged shyly and hid behind a couple locs that happened to fall back into his face, holding the books and papers closer to his chest.

"Uhmmn yeah, sorry. I-I'm runnin' late to my first class so I can't really give any autographs right now. Maybe later... if we see each other, ok?"

Miles blinked owlishly. Did he just say... autographs?

And wait a minute... was this Hobie... American?

Miles' poor little sleep-deprived mind was being blown again and again. He really didn't know if he was ever going to recover from this.

Hobie started to back up and walk away so Miles held his hands up to stop him. "Wait wait wait, autographs? I'm not uh-- sorry, this is weird," he laughed, rubbing his neck. "Nah, man. That's cool. I don't really want any autographs. Are you uh-- are you famous, actually?"

It was this Hobie's turn to blink owlishly now, hesitating a bit. A non-pierced eyebrow was raised as he said, "I... I kinda am...?"

He turned and pointed out the giant window of the hallway that they happened to be standing by, and Miles craned his neck to peer outside.

It smacked him right in the face once his eyes landed on it: a giant billboard fixed atop a neighboring building that depicted Hobie Brown in a luxurious-looking perfume ad. He sported the same locs as he did in real life, wearing shiny-looking makeup and giving the viewer the fiercest, smokiest look Miles has ever seen from a model in a hot minute. He was clutching deep purple satin, wrapped in it, basking in it. A single perfume bottle with a deep purple bow on the neck was photoshopped next to him, matching the overall vibe of the ad.

Miles was rooted to the spot, absolutely gobsmacked. How in the world did he miss that?!

Distantly, a small echo of a conversation he had in what seemed like a lifetime ago floated up from a memory. "I was briefly a runway model" pulsed in his neural pathways for a quick second.

Slowly, the gears started turning in his head. Slowly, he turned back to his dimension's Hobie Brown, who was giving him a strange sort of look.

Miles awkwardly tried to gather himself up, waving his hands around as he struggled for a non-weird explanation to his very weird behavior.

"I-I mean-- ahahaha! Yeah I mean, obviously you're famous! I was just y'know-- playin' with you. Pulling your leg and all that, I guess... heh."

The strange dubious look on Hobie's face didn't budge. "...Right."

Miles coughed conspicuously, trying to change the subject. "But uh yeah, haven't seen you around this school much then! Are you... you in a different grade than me or...?"

The corner of Hobie's mouth twitched suddenly, and for a split second Miles wondered if he said something wrong.

But then Hobie chuckled a bit. "No, I don't think so? This is my first day here. Like... ever. So I'm not really surprised you haven't seen me before. I just transferred over."

Miles practically sighed in relief and nodded, hands in his pockets. "Right! Right, very cool. Welcome to Visions then, I guess. Uh... I'm Miles! Miles Morales. Nice to meet ya!"

He goofily stuck a hand out, which Hobie actually accepted. They shook hands for a second, and then Miles was suddenly taken aback by how cold his hand was against his own skin. It was a definite contrast to the warm and lanky body he remembered practically draped across his own, back in Mumbattan.

He forced those particular memories away for now.

This Hobie was smiling down at him, sad eyes set inside a seemingly genuine expression of fondness. "Cool. I'm Hobie. But, uh, it seems like you already knew that, so."

"Aha, yeah yeah! It just-- honestly it's just the shock of, uh, running into a major celeb in the middle of my school that really got to me, I think. Sorry. I probably look like a total weirdo right now!"

Hobie shook his head, and Miles took the opportunity to really study this guy now that the shock was over and the vibe was more chill. This Hobie was just as long and lanky as the punk anarchist Miles was already well acquainted with, but he held himself completely differently. Where Spider-Hobie was all confident strut and careless swagger, this Hobie seemed to be all reserved grace and... sadness? He definitely reminded Miles of a willow tree drooping down into a lake, beautiful but tragic at the same time.

Okay Miles, get it together, he thought, stop thinking this guy is beautiful. I mean, he is beautiful yeah... but c'mon man, focus!

Hobie's non-pierced lips were moving now, finishing a sentence that Miles most definitely did not catch.

Then, Hobie looked at him expectantly.

Oh shit. He just asked a question didn't he? Fuck.

"Uh, sorry... one more time?" Miles grinned as wide as he could, apologetic. Nice going, Morales, the humorless voice in his head chimed in. Definitely not convincing this guy you're an alien from outer space or anything!

Hobie huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. "Sorry, my fault. Sometimes I mumble and... yeah. Mom says I need to work on that," he sighed, then continued, "I was just wondering if you knew where room 301 was?"

Miles nearly jumped with the force of the realization that just hit him.

"301? Mr. Moriarty's class?"

"Y-yeah, that's the one," Hobie smiled, twirling a loc on one finger and tugging it a bit. Then he tucked it back behind his ear. "I'm actually so lost it's not even funny, I'm godawful at directions and like, navigating. I've been looking for it for like 20 minutes now--"

"That's where my first class is too! AP chem!"

Hobie seemed to brighten up a bit at that, straightening his posture up from his own self-conscious hunch. "Oh cool! We should probably get going then, if we don't wanna be more late than we already are."

Without thinking, Miles places a hand on Hobie's shoulder and steers them both towards a classroom right at the end of the hallway they were in.

"Of course, right this way! Pretty lucky you ran into me, huh? I can help you find your other classes later on if you want, too."

For the first time since nearly crashing into him, Miles looked up at Hobie and saw genuine happiness in his eyes as they grinned at each other and walked down the hall together.

"...Yeah," Hobie said, nodding slowly. "Yeah that'd be pretty cool. Thanks!"

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Their chemistry teacher ended up not being a total hardass after all! Especially when Miles rolled up with none other than Famous Model Hobie in tow, immediately causing a ripple of whispers amongst the students sat at their desks.

Mr. Moriarty was a short and stumpy old man with a kind face and a severely receding hairline. He took one look at Hobie after squinting at his attendance sheet, accepted Miles' quick explanation that they were late because Hobie's minty fresh enrollment got him all lost in these maze-like hallways, and excused their tardiness with a wave of a hand.

"It's the first day and you were very kind to help a new student out, Mr. Morales. You're both excused for today, but try not to make a habit of it, alright?"

Miles bobbed his head as he picked his way past rows of desks. "Absolutely, sir. No problem at all. Thanks a bunch!"

Hobie stuck close to him, and smiled a bit as the only two desks left empty in the whole room happened to be right next to each other, right up in the back of the class. Nice.

They took their seats and exchanged a couple of glances as they pulled out their notebooks, barely listening to their professor's quick introduction and class syllabus. Well, Miles was barely listening, anyways. He was too caught up in the euphoria of running into a dimensional variant of one of his friends, in Visions Academy no less! His mind started to wander a bit. Did a 1610 Gwen exist too? a 1610 Pavitr? Were they also here at Visions? And what was with these random stares he and Hobie were getting from their fellow classmates right now?

Every now and then a student's head would swivel back to glance in their direction, awestruck looks evident on their faces.

How famous was Hobie anyway?

Of course, there was that giant billboard conveniently placed within view of the school's back hallways near a busy intersection, but Miles really started to think. He sneakily pulled out his phone and swiped down to the lowest brightness he could in case the classroom's fluorescent lighting wasn't enough to hide the phone screen's own light.

He kept his face straight forward, eyes flicking to and from his typing that he was trying to conceal behind the student sitting in front of him. He typed Hobie Brown model, Hobie Brown perfume ad, Hobie Brown supermodel, getting absolutely nothing every single time. Well, nothing that looked like the Hobie Brown sitting next to him, who happened to be dutifully scribbling down some notes in his notebook. Miles looked down at his own empty sheet of paper and quickly copied his new friend, whipping out a pencil and hurrying to catch up with the lecture on the whiteboard before the professor moved on.

Groan. What gives? Was Hobie this super accomplished, totally famous supermodel or not? Maybe he wasn't on social media, oddly enough. Maybe he just started an illustrious career and happened to be famous only in Brooklyn right now? No, that didn't make sense. If he was some small-time influencer or whatever, people would not be asking for autographs so often that Hobie would just automatically assume anyone who recognized him wanted one. And the looks on these other kids' faces convinced Miles that... maybe something was missing. Maybe he's just not searching up the right terms?

Agh, if only Spiderman business didn't keep him totally detached from reality sometimes. He really felt like he and the rest of the world were on totally different planets. If he had any friends besides Ganke, he probably would've heard about Hobie by now.

He bit his lip in concentration, trying to multitask between forming theories and keeping up with the lesson in the front of the classroom.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of eyes staring straight at him that didn't belong to the other classmates he barely even knew. He glanced over at Hobie, who quickly looked away.

Was that... an embarrassed look on his face just now? Miles scratched at his jaw a bit, more confused than before.

That was weird. Whatever. Anyways...

Before long, class was over and the bell rang. Miles and Hobie both meandered slowly up to the door and hung around the outside, leaning against the wall as they compared schedules before they had to make their way to their next class.

"Dang," Miles lamented, clutching his own schedule and moving to slot it into the cover of his binder. "Looks like we don't share any more classes besides 1st period..."

Hobie stopped his hand and squinted at the sheet again, glancing back at his own. "Uhmm... nah, actually. I think we might have 6th period together? Right after lunch."

"Do we share a lunch period too, actually?" Miles asked excitedly.

Hobie made a small noise of triumph, a smile playing over his lips. "Yeah! 1st, lunch and then 6th. Okay. Better than nothing, right?"

Miles chuckled, shoving his schedule into the plastic and tucking it under his arm. "Definitely. We can eat together at the cafeteria if you want! I'll walk you to your next class though, since it's basically right around the corner."

Hobie shrugged his own backpack back onto his shoulder and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. His eyes were cast downwards as he grinned at the floor and said, "yeah, if you don't mind... that'd be pretty cool."

This guy sure does like the word cool, Miles thought, and away to Hobie's next class they both went. They both ignored the various whispers and stares in their direction. Miles was already used to it by now.

They walked together amiably, in near lockstep for a little while before Hobie finally spoke up again.

"... So... if you don't mind me asking... why are you so nice to me if you didn't know I was famous, then?"

It was an innocent enough question, but it kinda caught Miles off guard nonetheless.

He laughed nervously. "Uhh ahaha, whaddya mean? I did know you were famous! I just... y'know my brain doesn't work the best real early in the morning. I'm, uh. Sometimes I can be pretty weird, if you haven't noticed by now."

Hobie nodded slowly, digesting this information for a bit. "Yeah, you did recognize me in the first place, I guess. It's just weird, you're like... the first person I met that doesn't look at me like I'm made out of solid gold, though. That's all..."

They exchanged glances again, and Miles' brain was working into overdrive, thinking of an appropriate response.

Before he could open his mouth, they finally reached their destination and Hobie bumped Miles' shoulder with his arm, smiling.

"So, thanks. For, uh... this. All this."

Miles raised a brow at him. "Oh yeah, this is nothing. I just walked you over to your next class, no biggie. My class is right over here anyways, so--"

Hobie laughed and shook his head, the expression lighting up his facial features unlike anything Miles has seen on that face yet.

"No, Miles. Not just this. I mean, like..." Hobie dipped his head, a bashful sort of move. "I mean, like, being nice to me. Like forreal. I really appreciate this."

They looked at each other for a moment, something real warm growing in Miles' chest all of a sudden, something... familiar.

He was just about to casually brush the gratitude off a second time with a dorky quip, before some girl's screechy voice interrupted their private little moment out of nowhere. It honestly startled them both, and the nice warm atmosphere dissipated immediately.

"Oh. My. GOD!! Is that Hobie Jones? Like actually?!"

She giggled and bounded up to them, blatantly ignoring Miles to insert herself between them and crowd into Hobie's space. She coquettishly asked for a selfie with him, promising to tag him on social media. The sudden commotion unfortunately attracted some other students who then took their cue to also bother Hobie for autographs, selfies, throwing compliments left and right.

Miles backed up out of the crowd, eyes still on Hobie as he watched the poor guy metaphorically slip on a mask, the very same that Miles saw when they first met not 2 hours ago. It was a sad, detached sort of look, and Hobie was forced to hunch in on himself to meet his fellow students' heights as they snapped selfie after selfie. His lips formed a smile all the while. His eyes did not.

A pang of sympathy hit Miles as he slowly turned away and made his way down to his own classroom without so much as a goodbye. He shrugged to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, he knew how that felt, just trying to mind your own business and live your life, do what you have to do-- and being stopped by nearly every living being within a 50 ft radius wanting their photo ops and their babies kissed.

Miles smiled to himself as he shouldered his way past other students and sauntered into his class, right on time. The bell rang as he reached his desk, and he pulled out another notebook out of his bag before the realization finally hit him with the force of a truck.

Wait... Hobie JONES?!

Miles quickly glanced around at his surroundings and mentally kicked himself yet again for choosing a seat so close to the teacher's desk, almost right up at the front. Damnit!

But the teacher wasn't in the classroom just yet, most likely making a quick run down to the printer down the hall to make copies of the class syllabus or something.

Okay, Morales. Gotta be quick.

He hastily pulled out his phone yet again, one eye on the door. He quickly typed in Hobie Jones model in his browser's search box, letting out a breath as search results loaded up and gave him exactly what he was looking for this entire time.

Bingo.

Hobie's face popped up in the image search previews, all sorts of cool and striking photoshoots lit up in all kinds of different ways. And the very first link at the top of the page? Hobie's own Flickstagram.

With a shaky hand, Miles tapped the link and impatiently waited for it to load, for his phone to get with the program and just open the damn app already. He kept glancing every so often at the door yet again, praying that the printer or copier-- or whatever-the-hell that was keeping the professor away from the class-- would keep them away for just a second longer.

He finally cast his gaze back down onto his own Flickstagram app and his heart nearly dropped out of his chest.

At the top, right next to Hobie's own smoldering profile picture was his username: hobiemjones

hobiemjones... hobie m jones. Hobie M. Jones.

M.J.

Miles exhaled again and tucked his phone away in shock just as the classroom door opened yet again and all the students quieted down. This class's teacher made their way over to their desk, piles of papers in hand. They started to pass them out to the students in the front row, introducing themself and then going over the usual attendance policies.

Miles accepted the syllabus sheets with trembling hands, turning to pass them over his shoulder once he got his own, his mind running a hundred miles a minute.

Peter talked nonstop about his wife, whenever he managed to stop talking about his baby, that is. It was always MJ this, MJ that. Flashes of a middle-aged man staring forlornly at a picture of his then-ex wife-- grieving the one who got away-- raced across his mind's eye. His universe's own MJ standing at a podium, strong but deeply hurt as she addressed all of Brooklyn after Spiderman's funeral.

"She wanted kids and I... just wasn't ready," echoed over and over in Miles' mind. Of course, they're together now. But the way Peter talked about his divorce... oh god.

Wait... was Miles ready for kids? Were he and Hobie going to have a messy on-and-off again relationship that ended up with them having to care for a spider-baby just like Mayday?! Maybe even multiple spider-babies?!?!?

Miles loosened his tie a bit, sweating profusely.

The fact that neither Hobie nor Miles were equipped with the parts to make a baby together flew right over his head. No... instead, his mind skipped straight to marriage, messy emotional fights and inevitable breakups. How was he gonna juggle school, work, Spiderman stuff and a relationship all at once?!

Without realizing, Miles started hyperventilating.

No no no no no, cool it Miles. COOL IT. Don't be weird. Miles mentally slapped himself and tried to even out his breathing as he leaned back in his seat and wiped some sweat off his brow.

He just proved to Miguel O' Hara and the entire multiverse this past spring that he can do his own thing, canon events be damned. Miles Morales was no victim to fate. Maybe all of the other spider-people had their own MJs. But maybe in this universe, MJ and Spiderman were... just friends. Good friends! ...Yeah, yeah, just friends...

The idea floated around in Miles' head throughout the entire rest of the class, but it didn't really make the tightness in his chest loosen up any at all.

Once the bell rang again and everyone started packing their things up, Miles dawdled a bit by the door, fumbling with his phone as his classmates filed out of the room. If he was late enough, maybe he'd completely miss Hobie in the hallways and not have to see him at all. Miles double-checked, triple-checked his schedule again and again, mapping out an eventual escape route through the halls in case Hobie's path did intercept Miles'.

God, Miles thought ruefully, checking the hour on his phone for the 15th time in a row and smiling awkwardly at his teacher's questioning glance. You're being so fucking weird about this right now!

The rational part of his brain kicked in and presented a quick slideshow of other calmer, more reasonable explanations as to why he really shouldn't be avoiding his new friend like the plague all of a sudden.

1. Hobie probably doesn't and won't like me, it stated. There is literally no proof that Hobie Jones is even into guys. Or me, Miles Morales.

2. Even if Hobie Jones is into guys-- or me, Miles Morales-- that does not mean the endgame is automatically marriage. No sir, no proof of that at all!

3. Canon events were officially disproven. Kinda. Mostly. Sort of?

C'mon, bro. Just man up and get out there. You're gonna be late for the next class soon anyways.

Right. He inhaled deeply and steeled himself.

"Okay well, uh. Have a nice day Mx. Gonzalez! See ya... tomorrow." Miles cringed inwardly at how lame that sounded, but his teacher didn't seem to notice as they bid him a nice day as well.

With his heart in his stomach, Miles slowly made his way into the hallway and started walking at a brisk pace, keeping his eyeline straight in front of him, trying to reach his next class on the floor below quickly but manageably. It was when he reached the stairs that his heart sank even lower.

Hobie was standing right next to the stairwell, glaring at the school map placed on the wall off to the left, fingertips on his chin as he mumbled to himself. He was glancing up and down between the map and his schedule in his hand, clearly befuddled.

Damn, he really is bad at navigating, Miles mused, once he recovered.

But as luck would have it, tragedy struck right then. Miles being pretty much the only other kid in the hallway attracted Hobie's attention, and even though Miles' feet kept him moving, he almost tripped on air once Hobie perked up upon seeing him.

"Miles!" Hobie grinned and waved him over, clearly happy to see him.

Oh noooo. Miles was not as happy to see him.

Without thinking, he launched himself down the flight of stairs, hopping over the railing and landing loudly on the 1st floor. Once steady, he basically sprinted over to his 3rd period class, completely missing the way Hobie's sunny grin slowly disappeared and his hand lowered back down to his side.

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Lunchtime came and went. Miles ate his packed lunch at his usual perch on top of the school building, where he always hid while trying to avoid the rest of the student body. He managed to pick a good spot away from prying eyes, and it never failed him.

Hobie ate alone, at a table tucked into the corner of the cafeteria despite being invited to several other tables. He sat and chewed sadly, locs back in front of his eyes, posture hunched over and defeated.

6th period came and went. Miles purposefully kept his gaze averted as Hobie walked in 5 minutes late. They sat at opposite ends of the room, never acknowledging each other's existence.

The school day ended and Miles made his way back to the dorms, sighing with relief once he glanced out the window and saw giant rainclouds rolling in over the horizon. Man, was he glad he got to bunk up on campus with his best friend! He greeted Ganke, kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto his bunkbed, laying back with a sigh. Maybe tomorrow he'd confront Hobie about his erratic behavior and apologize. Maybe.

But that was a problem for future Miles...

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Outside, the rain started falling fast and hard.

Outside, Hobie M. Jones waited miserably by the curb with an umbrella in hand, getting drenched by the water nonetheless. He checked his phone for the 15th time and sniffled angrily, pocketing it and gripping onto his umbrella handle.

Late. Again.

His mother was late to pick him up, as usual.

He swiped at a tear rolling down his cheek and finally loosened his ponytail, letting his locs fall all around his face.

Once she arrived, his mother was going to inevitably ask him how his day was, look only slightly concerned about his angry tears and ask if he made any new friends anyways, despite knowing the answer.

No, mom, Hobie would say as he kept his eyes glued to the car window.

No. I didn't make any friends.

[bigsmallworld]

People say they need to watch Anatomy of a Fall again cause the first time they got distracted by the hot french lawyer when then again I want to watch it again so I will be distracted by the hot french lawyer in question.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[deus-ex-mona]

sometimes, i think about how crazy the meoto plotline is

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello; i just wanted to say i respect you immensely for the resources you publish on a daily basis. i'm sure you have your own motivations for doing so, but if it ever becomes hard for you to manage, please take some time to care for yourself and your health. you are far more important than i feel you give yourself credit for.

You are so sweet, dear Anon. No worries, though! About +90% of my posts on this blog are now queued. It seems like I'm always on here, but I'm not. Usually you can tell I'm here when I answer replies on posts, or messages like this. But sometimes these are queued too. Or is it.

[sp00kymulderr]

embers

Pairing: Ezra x afab reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: 18+, pwp, fingering (f receiving), ezra being ezra, a lot of sweat, reader is nicknamed stardust but no gendered language as far as I am aware, this was originally written with a plus size reader in mind and there is one description of body type (soft stomach) but nothing major beyond that

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: It's too hot to sleep. Ezra helps you with your frustration, but only makes things hotter.

A/N: comments and reblogs forever appreciated! To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist. Credit to gif maker.

It’s hot. Too hot. The kind of sticky hot that fills the air and makes it hard to breath, no cool breeze of comfort as it melts the brain until you can’t think straight.

It sticks to your body. The heat causing discomforting damp across you, in the places where flesh meets flesh. You groan and turn from your side to your back, looking up at the mildewy roof of the tent you’re trying to sleep in.

“Shouldn’t have taken this stupid fuckin’ job” you mutter to yourself quietly, aware of Ezra somehow sleeping beside you.

Ezra; you’re partner in prospecting and crime and a variety of other unsavoury activities. Right now you’re too aware of him and his warm body. He’s always too close but you’d never usually complain. Except for right now when you want nothing more than to kick him out of the tent completely so you can spread your limbs wide and try not to feel so damn sticky.

You move again with a huff, turning your pancake-thin pillow over to the cooler side. It barely helps. You can feel the sweat gather between your breasts and your thighs and on your back. The only thing you can think to thank Kevva for is that you’d at least come to a planet with a breathable atmosphere, because if you’d had to wear your suit all day too you’d have lost your mind days ago.

“Something the matter, stardust?” Ezra asks, voice thick with sleep. Guilt pangs when you realise you woke him with all your movement, but he just gazes at you sleepily with a half-amused smile as his eyes flutter closed then open again adjusting to the low flickering glow of the lamplight.

“Just hot” you sigh turning on your side again to face him, body thrumming with restlessness and a jolt of other when his deep brown eyes flicker down to the loose, thin top that’s pulled up enough to reveal the curve of your body from waist to hip, your soft stomach, and the small shorts riding up the tops of your thighs.

He suddenly seems much more awake.

“Well I certainly won’t disagree with you on that” he practically purrs and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Ez” you retort slightly more stern than you had intended to sound and he raises an eyebrow at your annoyed tone.

“Sorry” you murmur after.

He smirks at you but doesn’t respond, his eyes darting back down your body then to your lips with very clear intent. You look back at him. He’s shirtless with a pair of shorts slung low on his hips and you always love to see that despite the hard life of drifting he is still soft and comfortable, getting by with just enough food to never be gaunt. The scars from decades of dangerous living are visible on his golden skin which is sheened with sweat. The starlight blonde patch of hair sticks to his forehead.

Perhaps he is another thing to thank the goddess for.

Like magnets drawn together you both shift a little closer, even the heat of his body not able to deter you as your eyes meet again.

He reaches out a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb making contact with your cheek with a sweet caress. With a barely audible sigh he leans closer and offers his lips to you. You’ve never denied him a kiss, you aren’t going to start now but you do hesitate.

“I’m gross” you mutter against his lips when his hand pushes up the flimsy top and skims the underside of your breast, knowing the moisture of sweat clings there.

“You’re radiant” he responds.

You roll your eyes again.

“It’s sweat”

“Stardust, what exactly makes you conclude I would ever care about that?” He whispers, voice low. “It’s you. That’s all that matters”

He leans in to you more then, his hand gently grasping a breast, thumb swiping over your sensitive nipple as your body reacts to him all on its own. His words make you warmer but this time you don’t curse the heat. Your conscious of how prevalent your perspiration is but the way in which Ezra simply doesn’t care gives you cause to give in too.

“Relax now, I’ll make you forget all about the torridity” He says.

He’s intent to make you stop thinking as he leans towards you and kisses you harder. His tongue welcomely intrudes your mouth and his hand pursues new territory as he drags it down your curves and around to the front of your shorts.

“Ezra..” you whine, bewildered by how you can be so desperate to have him closer now when just moments ago your wanted him far away. His palm presses against you at the apex of your legs and then you feel his fingers slip up the leg of your loose shorts. He huffs out a happy grunt as he finds you slick there from more than the heat.

"You..." He kisses you again, even less restrained than before "...are wanting of this more than you let on, stardust" He groans as his fingers slip up the seam of your cunt, finding their way to your sensitive bundle of nerves as he makes you gasp for it.

Your body is heating up to impossible lengths and you imagine what a state you must look like; dewy skinned and exasperated from lack of sleep and a new desperation for him. Your hair is stuck to your skin, the damp beneath your breasts and between your thighs increases. It's maddening but Ezra is looking at you like you are some unearthly delight that he has happened upon in his own garden of eden. He could never make you feel anything less than desired even when you feel anything less than desirable. It's a talent of his, really.

That quick tongue of his is occupied now with other things, the delicious drag of it from your lips, down your jaw and then your neck. He groans against your skin, his fingers working their way from clit to your entrance so he can gather your slick on them. He pushes one in, and you already feel like you could forget more than just the heat, you could forget where you are entirely if he keeps going.

You whimper and he smiles so delightedly.

He’s soon moving his head to a place further down, sucking in a nipple over the fabric of your shirt. He takes you completely off guard as he pushes in another finger, toying with you when he knows exactly what to do to make you forget your own name.

"I'm all...all...You don't have to...it's not…" you stutter not even a full sentence.

"Take off your shirt" Is all he responds with. No preamble, no flowery wording. A simple instruction.

"I…" You hesitate because you really are so sticky hot and some prevalent part of your brain is still stuck on that undesirability you feel.

"Do it"

You do. The little top comes off in a moment, giving Ezra access to your breasts with that wicked tongue of his. He swipes your pebbled nipples, once on each, with it and then sucks one in to his mouth, using his teeth to ever so gently pull.

Meanwhile those talented fingers do their own work. In...deep, deep, crooking at the place that makes your stomach clench in pleasure. Back out, just a little, playing with you because he knows how much he can make your mind blank if he just makes it a little more difficult for you.

"Teasing me..." You whisper, your own hands playing in his damp hair, grabbing slightly. He knows you know what he's doing to you.

"Making you forget. Making your think about nothing else. Let me" He smirks. He is a devilish man, you decide, and you are glad he is the devil of your own heart and no one elses.

"Mmmh, I- Yeah. You can do that..." You sigh. Finally feeling his thumb barely touch your clit as his fingers work inside of you to bring on something that will make you cry out his name for all the planet to hear.

"Would you like more?"

"Don't you...dare stop"

He laughs, that delightful laugh of his that you fell in love with.

The heat and his hand make you feel kind of like you're in a dream, dizzy with all of the things you feel inside and out. You love him like this, love him to be so intense, so incredibly devious in making you feel exactly the thing he wants you to feel.

"Come kiss me" You whimper and he grins like the cat that got the cream, knowing he has you.

Ezra does exactly as you want kissing your lips once, twice before pulling away. You can taste the sweat on his skin and it only drives you more in to want. You're starting to understand his way of thinking; why should you care about anything but the two of you and what your bodies can do? Perpiration or no, he feels good and makes you feel good.

His fingers work magically in you until your getting breathy and close to the inevitable edge. He's hard against your hip but when you reach to help him with that he pushes your hand away.

"Not now"

"Feels- oh, feels so right" is about all you can give him as he slips another finger in and stretches you so deliciously. You want it again and again and again and he gives it to you as his fingers hook and rub deep inside, and you start to cry desperately for him to never, ever stop “Ez...”

“Shh, stardust. Let it take you, let me help you” He groans feeling your wetness gush around his fingers. His thumb rubs your clit in faster little circles and you arch.

You come in a frenzy of blooming heat, a pleasure that makes you push against him as if begging for even more. Your skin is glistening now not just from the torridity of this unforgiving climate but from the pure fire in your body. How can he make you feel like this every time? It is so unreasonable that he has this power, but it is so right.

Ezra licks a swipe between the valley of your breasts, and then up to your neck where he kisses you gently as you slowly catch your breath. Your eyes are heavy, sleep already taking you in to its arms as you lay your head down and pull him up for a slow, lazy kiss that keeps the fire flickering just a moment longer.

“Mm. Ez” is about all you manage for that moment, fingers playing again in the damp hair at the nape of his neck until your eyes are closing.

“Sleep, my lucent love. You’re welcome” Ezra chuckles letting you fall back as he lays on his side watching you.

You’re asleep in moments, sticky hot but satisfied enough to not be able to think about it any more.

You’ll certainly thank him in the morning.

[neoasari]

day 8) free day

roleswap? or whatever... zwiyudi and romiluke, since they were the two ships i did this week

anyways this week was a whole lot of fun. see you guys next year.

[skunkes]

i like my main style well enough bc i love paying attention to details of the human body but id love to explore another that's more toward the stylization side of the scale... solely bc it is true that the more realistic something skews the easier it is to really see flaws that dont align... i want something more flowy and visually interesting... hm hm hm hm hm

[woelfin-sheeps-clothing]

[roseworth]

my sisters been getting into dc and she read this weeks green arrow and asked what i thought and i pulled out all the panels i didn’t like and she said “so you didn’t like it because of a few character moments” and like. okay yes but you don’t understand how joshua has hurt me over the last year. you don’t get it.

[gxtzeizm]

my mind rn: