I'm reading Walk That Mile and i'm thinking that I really need the H's POV, like we are having Bloodsport. I don't know if things will change later, I'am only at the 5th chapter.
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sonic: so i got a little bored and started looking up random things and found something called the “battle kukku empire”. it’s wild. apparently they were last spotted over cocoa island and their ship was found completely destroyed. they say that no one survived the crash. crazy right?
tails, not at all paying attention: oh yea, that was my bad
sonic:
sonic: i’m sorry what
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punkflower au where hobie works in a vintage records shop and miles comes in looking for vinyls…
imagine hobie standing behind the counter, bored out of his mind, playing w his rings and shit and then this GORGEOUS guy comes in, with his puffer jacket and red air jordans and chunky headphones and curly hair, a thin silver hoop in his nose, and hobie blinks like an owl bcs it feels like literal sunshine just stepped into the shop.
“hey, man, uh— you happen to have anything from Tears for Fears?”
and hobie has to repeat the question 3 times over in his head before he realises the guy’s still waiting for his answer and he’s just bluescreening there like an idiot. “um,” he says intelligently as he rounds the counter and rubs his hands together. “yeah, we got a couple.” he leads the guy over to the right section, trying not to stare as miles carefully flips through the vinyls. “gettin’ this for yourself? or…”
“nah, for a friend,” miles says, lips curling as he looks up. “i’m more of an ABBA guy.”
hobie has to stop himself from burying his face in his hands and yelling. he’s cute, and listens to ABBA? christ. “we’ve got ABBA too, if ya want a look-see. row to ya left and all the way down,” he says wryly, half-sure that there’s something blooming warm behind his chest, wrapping vines up and around his lungs because miles grins at him, gives him a straight row of white teeth in a smile and hobie can’t breathe for shit.
“yeah? i’ll check it out.” miles’s eyes are warm and soft, a deep dark brown as they crinkle, and hobie’s lips twitch as he tries not to grin like a fool.
“aight, then. i’ll… leave ya to it,” he mumbles as he walks away, fighting against the urge to turn around. he hears miles humming quietly as he slides back behind the counter, and he can’t hide his giddy smile.
he doesn’t wanna leave him to it.
they’ve only just met, but goddamn. hobie really, really wants to take this boy on a date.
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it hasn't died completely, but y'know what character trope I miss. the humble faghag. WHERE are the women who are kind of cunty and carry around their little gay friend like a purse dog, and they make a living being a hater 24/7 but also if anyone messes with the homo they pull out their masters degree, doctorate, and their placement on the honor roll in haterism expertise to defend him. its a beautiful symbiotic relationship
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