#co-op hopping | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinytennisskirt · 4 months ago

Note

ifffff ur into this… stoned sex with art 😼🙏🏻❤️‍🔥

No Consquences

summary: you and art have been close friends for some time now, there’s definitely something lying underneath that friendship, and it cracks wide open when he comes over to smoke with you.

warnings: smut! unprotected sex, smoking weed, tension, fluff, lots of laughter mwah

and ofc i’m into this. so into this. never stop.

your phone buzzed. you were already having a hard time putting down the book you’d spent all day reading- you’d only taken a break to shower about an hour ago and you were still laying in the towel in your bed because you’d picked up the book again.

it was raunchy. and it was really well written for a raunchy, steamy novel! you’d never read one this good before, the men are always overbearing and written to be sexy so they just come off as try-hands, but the man in this book was perfect. kind. sweet. you put your bookmark in and grabbed your phone from by your feet.

art: patrick stopped by earlier he says hi n he brought me some pre rolled stuff.

art: can i come over?

you loved how the pieces fit together. any time patrick came to visit, art’s room somehow became a mess. he hated to impose, but your room was the best option. you smiled, writing back.

you: bring iced tea

art: already bought it

you: you know me so well

art: on my way over :)

it took art about five minutes to come and knock on your door. in that time you’d managed to throw on a tank top and shorts, the window open and the summer air pouring in and circulating the room. you ran a brush through your hair and answered the door.

you and art had been friends since college started, both at stanford for tennis. and against your realization, the friendship might have been a little more. it was a steady thing, becoming friends like it was the easiest thing in the world. he was a good friend, knew you well, knew your secrets and kept them. he was your closest friend here at stanford and you saw him almost every day, just out of habit.

he showed up in a black t-shirt. and sweatpants. not just a regular black shirt, but one that was just a little tight. he had the pre-rolls in his left hand and a giant thing of iced tea in the other. by the frosted look of the plastic, it was cold. you grabbed onto the door at the sight of him, an unconscious thing. he looked really nice.

“you like the raspberry one right?” he asked, referencing the iced tea in his arm. his forearm rested right against the label you were staring at. you blinked.

“yeah! hi.”

“hi,” he smiled, tilting his head a little. “you okay?”

“i’m okay,” you smiled, moving out of the way, letting him come into your room. he didn’t often wear black. the shirt must have been new or… “how are you?”

“i’m alright,” he smiled, sitting on your bed. “patrick visited for three hours and my room is a mess. looks like someone set off a bomb in my dresser.”

“of course,” you nodded. you’d met patrick about a year ago and he was also a fast friend. but he was a messy guy. “he couldn’t even stop by to say hi, i can’t believe him.”

“i said the same thing, i said you’d be heartbroken, but he’s got some date with this girl lana.” he shrugged. “he’ll be back tomorrow probably.”

“don’t clean your room just yet,” you said, grabbing the air freshener and your lighter from on top of your coffee maker. “you get the glitter lighter today.”

“pink?”

you tossed it to him, “pink.”

“my favourite.”

“as it should be,” you hopped onto the bed and sat on your knees, pushing your hair behind your ears. “anything else happen today?”

“mm- not really,” art said, opening the box of joints. “i was sleeping in until patrick came around so it was that and then this. i checked the tennis schedules, co-op doubles this monday-“

“partners?”

“yeah,” he chuckled. he was about to ask. “that and class schedules tennis history? since when do we have to do tennis history.”

you grabbed his arm gently, “oh my god i saw that when i was with abbey the other day.” you shook your head, “i think it makes us more worldly,” you nodded. “i forgot about it.”

art moved closer to you, near the window above the bed. with a click of the lighter he lit the end and inhaled, blowing the smoke out the window the best he could before handing it to you. your eyes lingered on his bicep- for fucks sake. it was a good shirt. that was all. you sat up and did the same, inhale, hold, exhale. “oh my-“ you coughed, “-god.”

art laughed and his hand rested on your bare knee. “you’re okay.” his thumb moved just gently, once. it wasn’t unlike him to be touchy, just was who he was, but for some reason today you were hyper focused on it. his hand was cold, but soothing. you passed him the joint and cracked open the iced tea. “so what do you think of-“ he exhaled out the window. “this shirt.” you blinked like you’d heard him wrong. “new.”

“i like it,” you said, looking the other way. your eyes wanted to fall on the shirt again but you were afraid of what would happen and how you’d react if you looked right now. you took a swig of the iced tea.

“patrick said i look like a personal trainer.”

you laughed, wiping your lower lip with your thumb. his eyes were trained on you and the lack of bra. you looked back at him, eyes falling over him in the black t-shirt again and just as you feared, your mouth fell just a little open. “you do- okay- i see it. he’s not wrong.”

“i’m getting rid of this shirt later,”

“no!” you protested a little too loudly. “don’t let us change your mind about it.” you tried to save yourself. “i think it’s the sweats.” why did he look so good today? was it really so different? you shook your head and hit the joint twice that time. “i like the shirt though.”

he smiled that almost-shy crooked little grin when he took the joint back. you could not stop coughing, which made him chuckle as he took his hit. the conversation continued, those slight little bantery jokes filling the room with laughter that only increased as you felt the weed take its effect like a wave washing up and over you.

the radio behind you playing some cd you both liked and the iced tea shared between the two of you while you felt things settle in. it was like a buzz, like constantly lapping of water against a shore. it was dizzying and made your head spin just a little. you kept laughing about things and nothings. you leaned into his shoulder when you laughed and his hand stayed on your knee, occasionally flattening out against the lower parts of your outer thigh, almost fidgeting the way his hand grazed back and forth. maybe you were too high, but he was all you could think about.

usually, it was that he was there and that was fun, but as the sun set and the night crept on and you continued feeling the high increase, you could only think about him. him and his t-shirt, his biceps, his forearms, his hand that was on your skin while you talked. he was smiling that perfect grin of his and you swore you were staring, but neither of you could tell.

you were giggling, one leg up and the other one still folded under you, leaning against the one that propped you up. “think you’d ever cut your hair?”

“i get my hair cut,” he replied, rubbing his left eye. “every three months.”

“i mean like- short.”

“mmm- no.” he answered, taking a bigger hit. “my mom had me cut it short when i was a kid, i had a bowl cut.” he laughed and you laughed with him, a little uncontrollably at the imagery. you wondered to yourself if he had a picture. “a short-“ he couldn’t breathe he was laughing so hard, “short bowl cut. so bad.”

“oh my god.” you laughed, leaning into him again. he leaned the same, you met in the middle, hands intertwining, a desperate grab at anything sturdy. you couldn’t stop. he smelled good, you noted, he always did. cologne and spice and did he smell better than he did before? the other times you though he smelled good, did he smell this good? it was strange. he smelled so good. too good. you hummed as you stopped laughing, trying to dull it down. “but you wouldn’t cut your hair short?”

“feels wrong.” he said, trying to compose himself again. you went back to your regular statures, his hand went right back on your leg, his thumb doing the very same thing. it was hot- he needed to stop being hot, it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t right. he was your best friend. he had to stop. you looked at his hair, his curls. the warm, dim lights of your room made them seem like they were glowing gold. “it wouldn’t be bad- just wouldn’t be me. could be bad though.”

“no, not bad. i like your curls.” you said, trying to keep down another giggle. you couldn’t risk spiralling into laughter again. you extended your hand and gently moved his hair. he scrunched his nose and closed his eyes as you did, letting you. his hair was soft. “don’t ever cut your hair short.”

he chuckled, “not even a bowl cut?”

you giggled just slightly, tousling his hair just a little more, scooting yourself a little closer to play with his hair. it was mindless, just nice to feel while your body felt as if it were floating and hovering over itself. you felt even more spinny as the new hits of the second joint kicked in. you felt oddly like you were made of air. your felt your eyes struggle to be properly open, you could see art’s eyes pink in the dim light. his eyelashes. you were sat up on your knees hitting the joint again, your other hand still in his hair and you passed it back to him. he hit it and set it down on the makeshift cardboard ashtray that had become a thing while you were talking before. his movements seemed slow, but fast at the same time.

you moved just a little closer without thinking of it, on your knees, sort of above him but not really. both hands of yours touched his hair, pushing the curls around his ears behind them. low-lidded, he just watched you. his head tilted up just a little to look at you. to see you. “i’m so high.” he said, quietly, like you weren’t alone.

“me too.” you giggled just a little more and he joined in. his laughter was sweet in the air and your hands stayed pushing curls away from his face just gently. you weren’t thinking about it, just him. just how he was really pretty. you felt his hand move from where it was, meeting with just above your hip, where your hip met your waist. his hand felt like it was going through you, just a little. it didn’t even phase you that he was touching you, just that his hands felt strange on your skin and the reminder that you were high circulated your mind again.

your body hummed and seemed to buzz. like all of your skin was soft static. his other hand met that other side of your waist, resting just above the hip bone. his left thumb was underneath the hem of your tank top. you were smiling at him the way you usually would, no teeth, nothing wider than that- but he wasn’t smiling back. at least not in the same way- his face rested soft and a little open-mouthed in a gaze that felt similar to that of a deer. looking at you through long eyelashes.

your hands in his hair didn’t feel real. his hair was spun gold and your hands were like clouds. limbs felt alien. but your body felt complete. your eyes felt tired though you knew you weren’t and he was looking at you for what seemed like forever and maybe you were looking at him forever too. reality was, it was only a moment, not too long at all.

he’d been your friend for almost a full year. he’d held your hand at certain points, you’d hugged probably a hundred times, but this felt different. the music playing seemed to fade out. your hands still pushed through his hair, gently. the waves of your high were only continuing to bring you upward, higher. his hands didn’t move, yours began to slide down just slightly.

inching further, curls tucked behind his ears and moving your hands down, almost subconsciously. you felt like you were floating and falling at the same time and it was dizzying. his eyes did not leave you. not even as your hands moved down behind his ears. everything was serious until then.

“you have that thing in your eyes with different colours,” you noted. your voice felt echoey, like a toy microphone. “it’s pretty.”

“you’re pretty.” he replied, lips barely moving. and you giggled, your response was to giggle. it was uncontrollable, you couldn’t help it. neither could he. he said you were pretty. art donaldson, your best friend here at school, said you were pretty. he thought you were pretty. you giggled just a little madly and you leaned, of course, into him, but your hands on his jaw now, leaning turned into slightly losing balance, his you leaned forward and you almost kissed him.

you pulled back at the last second so that your face didn’t crash into his, though you didn’t go far. your noses touched as your giggling died just a little, “oh my god, i almost kissed you-“ you said a little breathily. your nose grazed his. his eyelashes fluttered as his eyes fell from yours to your lips, then back again.

he grinned, laughing just a little. the world seemed so quiet aside from the buzzing in your ears and his light chuckle. you both swayed just a little, challenged to be steady, failing. laughing, swaying so much, heads tilted just perfectly enough to have his lips graze yours. or yours graze his. it feels unreal, like you’re watching it from across the room instead of feeling it, but your hands are on his jaw and his are still on your waist, trying to keep balance harder than you thought. “i’m sorry.” he mumbled. and you felt his words against your lips, apologizing for the way they grazed against yours despite not moving away. not changing what he was doing, in fact it happened again.

you giggled at that. so did he. but it died quickly. as your hands slid under his jaw. as his hands slid just slightly more under the back of your tank top. your lips grazed his once more, “i’m sorry.” you smiled, it was against his lips. the tension was thick, there was no other way to go.

a beat passed. your lower lip dragging across his slightly open mouth, your head tilted just a little. one more beat. lips brushing, hands on each other, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. high, so high, so fuzzy, so airy.

being this close, kissing him felt like a need. not a want. in this state of being, in this place, him in your hands, there was nothing that felt more right. kissing him. having him. and it seemed he was thinking the same thing.

your lips grazed his once more and mutually, that graze turned into a kiss. your lips pressed properly against each other’s. your hands holding his face, his hands pulling you closer. lips meeting lips fully, entirely, slowly. god, it felt so slow. a comfortable slow, not a painful slow. with your eyes closed it felt like the world was spinning around you. it was the mix of him and the weed that was so dizzying.

his lips were soft. oddly. soft, pillowy, warm, and sweet. he kissed so gently, so easily, no tongue, just lips. lips against yours. when he pulled your waist you gladly moved forward, onto his lap. it wasn’t far. moving onto his lap felt like falling through him. his hands on your waist felt like air and if you focused on his lips you couldn’t feel his hands at all. it was strange, but it was so good.

you weren’t thinking about how he was supposed to only be your friend- you weren’t thinking about how easy it was to kiss him, how neither of you had to say a single thing for it to be known, to be mutual, to kiss like this. slow and deep and god, more intoxicating than the weed.

you only felt his hands again when they moved, one of them up the back of your tank top, flat against your skin. soft. and his movements felt like the waves of your high but you knew they weren’t actually. you felt your body flush warm in reaction. like a delayed response, god, he was kissing you. you were kissing him- god, you were on his lap. your knees were on either side of his legs and your chest was pressed against his when you moved even closer. was closer possible?

you needed him like nothing you’d ever needed before. feelings underlying now surfacing. it was slow, the way he began to lean backward. tilting until his head hit your pillow and you were now on top of him. it felt like falling, despite the speed. falling into him, god you wanted to. his hand sliding down your hip. he was hard. you felt it underneath you, you felt everything, you felt his eyelashes against your face, you felt everything how could you not feel how painfully hard he was in his track pants? it came naturally to press against him now that you were on top of him.

was it wrong that him being hard from kissing set a fire that spread through your body? you had a hard time keeping balance, your hands moving down his jaw and to the back of his neck. his hand slid further up your shirt.

you giggled, just a little. you couldn’t help it. between kisses, between heavy kisses. your head spun. “what?” he asked, obviously just as out of it as you were. he spoke against your lips, sporting a dazed smile.

“we’re kissing,” you grinned.

“yeah,” he replied, his own smile widening to match your grin. “is that okay?”

you nodded and he kissed you again. and you were kissing him again. you moved forward, his head happily tilting back when you kissed him just a little harder than before. not much faster, only harder. the same way you felt him underneath you. with your eyes closed the imagery in your head was sparks. fire. you pressed against him, hips rolling instinctively. you felt his other hand grip just slightly harder, some sound slipping between your lips from him. that hand under your shirt was now on your hips, bracingly, guiding you. and friction was good. god, it was so good.

you couldn’t find any spare time to think about consequences. it didn’t feel like there could be any when he kissed like this. he was a good kisser and the hands that were guiding your hips as you ground against him were smart and calculated. paced.

the tilt of your head, the feeling of his hands on your body. feeling that pulsing need along with the heat of a dizzy high. it felt like flying to have your eyes closed, you were afraid you’d sink through him. the kiss deepened, the pace increasing. you let out a small sigh between kisses, feeling the rocking all too well. his left hand left your hip and was back on the bare skin of your back.

he was so hard it must have hurt. and your bodies pressed together so perfectly. and his hand was under your shirt. you sighed, moving back down just slightly. and moving down meant your shirt moved up just slightly- and art didn’t mean to, but he continued his accidental movement and slowly, your shirt was raised over your head. it fell somewhere you didn’t care to look. the air from the window hit your bare skin and his hands came back to holding you, sliding over your now entirely bare back. you nearly shivered.

shirtless, braless on top of him, it was only fair he do the same. you grinned between kisses, your hands swapping place with his, slowly trailing along to trade. hands up your waist, coming to rest on your jaw while yours trailed down his side, coming up underneath the hem of the t-shirt you were so fond of on him. he stopped kissing you only to pull it off. you weren’t sure of what was going on, but you liked it. moving back to kissing him felt like a constant loop but it was just the weed. every time your lips connected it felt like the best thing in the world. so deep, so slow.

your chest pressed to his now, but that didn’t stop you from running your hand down his chest. he was soft, like silk, all of his skin aside from the light happy trail from his belly button down. half-lidded, your lips grazed against each other’s, both catching your breath for a moment. shirtless. you beamed, your cheeks hurt from smiling you wondered how that happened when all you were doing was kissing. it was a pause, just a slight pause and you looked at him, meeting his eyes.

his mouth hung just slightly open, he looked dazed, gone, but it turned into a reciprocated smile with ease. his eyes didn’t even glance down. but it was easy to know that you both wanted the same thing. he was out of it, so were you, feeling spinny and high and with those unspoken words you kissed again. this time harder, faster, and it was only a moment before you tugged the drawstrings of his pants.

you rose up just slightly and kissed over him again. he was bracing all he could, trying to pull you back against him desperately, but it took a second for him to figure out what to do. you moved to the side of him while he took them off, still kissing you, hands in your hair when they could be. the moment he kicked them somewhere, your hand rested against his bare chest.

he kissed you like he needed you the same way, yet he was so gentle. everything about him, all movements gentle, his hand in your hair, your roots. he was warm like the breeze in from the window. he felt like air and god, so good. his lips against yours, still soft, but the kiss heavy with intention, both of you dizzy with a lust that filled the room. it was with that hand on his chest that you dragged a gentle finger down his stomach, over the waistband of his boxers and gently let your hand slide over his dick, which stood properly, tenting the fabric.

he made a noise close to a whine when you touched him. it sent another little fire dancing through your veins. you’d never thought about what he’d sound like. or what he’d taste like- but you’d been in the know for about ten minutes. and you wanted him. he wanted you. your hand pressed over him, back and forth just once before your hand slid the other way and rimmed the edge of his boxers. he took them off. it was easy to.

you lost your balance just a little and rolled the wrong way but he brought you back, hand on your waist again. you looked down- he was impressive, pretty. gorgeous. smooth. your lips crashed against his again. every pause felt like minutes and seconds at the same time. and your hand found it’s way to him and he moaned into your mouth. it wasn’t just the marijuana, god, his moan was possibly the most sobering thing. all your thoughts cleared from being clouded. you needed him more, more, more.

you worked him up and down, sitting up on your knees to get that leverage you need. his hum against your lips felt like the best thing in the world. you could kiss him until you died. all of it felt unreal. like you weren’t truly there. like you’d wake up, maybe. you’d kissed him in a few misplaced dreams but you’d never thought it would ever happen though if you asked any bystander, especially patrick, he would have said it was a long time coming. it just so happened today it all crashed in. today you felt everything and god, you’d feel more.

you weren’t sure how long you’d been doing it but your hand wasn’t cramping. or maybe you couldn’t feel it. you were immune. it was probably ages. he moaned into your mouth and it was everything. fuck. “stop- stop, stop, stop-“ he mumbled. “i’m- close.” he said it like he was shy about it. you stopped the first time he said it. he still kissed you, leaking over your fingers. your body was hot, aflame, burning, feeling like the bed was rocking like a boat on the water, worsening when he said he was close. worsening when he looked up at you, eyes soft, tugging at the bottom of your shorts.

he kissed you as you took them off. eager, excited. so excited, but he wouldn’t let you touch him again. or he would, he just wanted to touch you more. he would have done anything. your hips knew more than you did, directed toward him and he took it seriously, pulling you back over him by your waist. his upward dick pressed to your bare stomach, his hand on your left boob, gently squeezing as he kissed you. your hands cupped his face once more and you raised yourself just a little. enough. felt like a freefall. every little detail, every little feeling was felt tenfold. bared to him, there was no room for insecurity, you knew he wouldn’t judge.

and you moved a certain way, sitting back up on your knees, him sitting up to chase your lips and it was dangerous, how close you were. lips on lips, touching, feeling, sitting up and the overwhelmingly all-consuming. his hands slid over your chest, your waist, your bare hip, your ass.

“art-“ you said between kisses. bodies

moving in sync.

he didn’t stop, your hands on his jaw, the back of his neck. “mhm?”

“art, are we-“

“if you want.”

“i want.” you said breathlessly. you could feel that crooked grin against you. “do you?”

“so bad,” he sighed. his hands were tight on you. holding. really holding. his words were the right words. “i’m sorry.”

“shhh-“ you kissed him again. and this time when you lifted yourself to kiss him, to get that leverage over him again, he fixed things below. so that when you moved back, which you did, you sank down onto him. slowly. easily. dizzily. you were surprised it was such a smooth movement. he felt like… “god-“ you breathed.

his noise was muffled. or he tried to muffle it. you pushed down onto him and felt as he slowly, so slowly, filled you. you fit like a puzzle piece against him. feeling everything already, of course you felt every inch as it pushed up. neither of you cared about anything except each other and this, here, now, as you slowly began to ride.

it had been ages since you’d last had sex with anyone and already, this was better than you’d remembered. food tastes better high, best believe sex feels amazing. not only that, but art’s hands on your body, his mouth on your own were delicious and ten times better than you could have ever imagined on their own. sharing air, breathing hard as you slowly rocked on him, moving up and down at the same time.

his hands rested on the crook of your hip that bent around his body and it was the best feeling, being pulled and pushed. neither of you cared about the open window. “fuck…” he groaned. “i-“ his words succumbed to a moan. it felt like power. you pushed against him, grinding with him fully inside you, causing your own moan to mix with his. low, quiet, breathy. “oh my god-“

you were a little proud of yourself. the sounds he was making- he way he grabbed onto you for dear life. his fingers dug into your skin but it didn’t hurt. all you felt was good. your entire body hummed with pleasure. you could feel him and his hands and that was enough. you rocked on him, bouncing just slightly, trying to feel more. chasing a different high. he was above average not by much, but more than you’d ever had, and you could feel every inch. your head spun. it felt so good, you could see colours when you closed your eyes.

“fuck,” he breathed. he sounded like he couldn’t breathe. neither could you- i mean you could but you’d much rather kiss him. or it was less of a kiss, more sharing air while you rode him. it didn’t matter, it was perfect. his body pushing against yours, having him buried deep inside you hitting everything just right, his fingers dipping into the flesh of your hips and ass. he moaned like a whine and it drove you crazy, helping you pick up the pace. he must have liked it, fingers digging deeper, “oh my- fuck- you’re-“ he couldn’t speak. he couldn’t say anything. he couldn’t think. neither could you.

you just grinned, but it was cut short by a fervent kiss. one of his hands held the back of your neck keeping you pressed close as you continued against him. skin on skin, warm, sweaty, sticky in the best way. you moaned, feeling everything a hundred times over, those waves of high crashing against waves of pleasure. how long you’d been at it was a mystery again, but you felt like you could go forever. his hips raised to crash against yours, filling you entirely every time with a grinding force in between. deep.

his moans were deep, from his stomach. both of you not thinking much about volume or sounding pretty as you fucked. it sounded like sex, it smelled like weed, music playing gently in the background sounded unreal and echoey. it felt like heaven though after this you were sure you would never truly see it. it didn’t matter. not now. you were fucking your best friend and it was possibly the best thing you’d ever felt in your life when mixed with the marijuana.

moving in sync, with a pattern, with a repetitive motion- “i’m s-so-“ he couldn’t speak still. he groaned as you used your common sense to figure out what he was trying to say, picking up the pace, fucking him harder. god, you needed it harder, needed it now. you’d forgotten protection but this was worth it. he grabbed you harder, kissed your harder, you felt his teeth just once as he did. “god-“ you could feel he was close and honestly, you felt it too. a knot in your stomach, begging to be undone.

like he was psychic, you felt his hand slip down between you. down your thigh, over your stomach, down to where you met him. his hand made things worse. or better. but worse. he knew exactly where to touch, finding it immediately and intensely, more pleasure pulsed in your veins. he would get you off like this. fuck impairment, he would. you moaned louder than before and you felt him smile. his smile was so pretty. sometimes you just thought about his smile and who wouldn’t, when he smiled at you more often than anyone? you breathed his air now. he breathed yours.

“i’m-“ you tried. he got you back. you couldn’t speak. you smiled too. “i’m so-“

“mmm-“ he replied, hand working. hips still raising desperately to crash against yours. fuck. you were close. so was he. you were unravelling. you felt your muscles contract and so did he, your moans were in sync and he didn’t give a fuck who heard. the people in the dorms above, below, beside, all probably hated you now. the people in the common room probably hated you now. hell, anyone walking outside should hate you.

he spoke quickly, with no air in his lungs, “i’m going to-“ he was waiting. high, waiting, ready. hand still going, he knew what he was doing. you could feel it all. “oh my god-“

you were saying the same things, his hand working fucking magic, god you were so close. you put a little extra force into it, feeling how he touched you making you come undone, you just needed for it to peak. he had no restraint. he didn’t want it. you were high, you needed higher, god, you were so close.

“i’m- fuck- pl-“ between a moan and whine from him. he was trying so hard. “please.”

you smiled, biting your lip just slightly as you felt yourself closer, closest. “art-“ you sighed. you thanked the weed for giving you endless stamina. you couldn’t feel anything but him and how you were coming undone right now, everything coming to peak, crashing waves against a wall. your body flashed hot, flushed pink, god- his hand was so good. you felt yourself tighten around him, the tightest you’d been the entire process and with a muffled moan, you felt him follow you over that edge. he held his breath, you could tell. his hand on your hip gripped tightly, bracing as he finished hard into you.

you felt, warmer within you. deep. it was a good thing you had plan b in the pill cabinet. you were a mess, he was a mess. it was the greatest orgasm you think you’d ever had. it wasn’t just the weed. it was him. it was this. he was thinking the same thing. it was you.

breathing hard, harsh against each other, you rode it out until your hips just had to stop. his hand retracted and came to rest on your other hip. and you kissed him. you didn’t know what else to do, you didn’t want to do anything else, just kiss him. those waves pulled back from the shore with no impending tsunami and just calm. just calm. high, calm. this kiss was gentle, soft, not hungry, not anything else but peaceful. your hands cupped his face, your lips were warm with that dulled passion. only a moment.

you disconnected, his cum seeping out just a little but you passed him a folded towel from your desk chair. it was wordless. you didn’t want to move, but you had to, so it was quick when you cleaned yourself up the best you could, going to the bathroom and opening the cabinet, doing what you had to and coming back within four minutes. it was a good thing that minutes felt like seconds when you were high.

you came back to where he was laying on your bed on his back, also cleaned up with the tilt of a nearby water bottle onto the towel you gave him. you just flopped down onto the bed next to him, still without clothes. “wow.” you sighed, resting a hand on your stomach, staring at the ceiling.

“wow,” he replied. when you closed your eyes the room still spun like a record. the room was silent a beat, just another moment, before you felt that giggle bubble up and escape your lips. but he chuckled too. it was hearty and strong and you both couldn’t stop it. laughing too hard, too much. you were both still catching your breath. you couldn’t stop laughing.

it made sense. laughing fits weren’t out of the ordinary after smoking weed, but sex sure was. and feelings, admitting to any wouldn’t seem too real right now so all you could do was laugh. the unspoken words were just about as loud as the action and that was funny. you turned onto your side just a second to face him and he cut your laugh short by kissing you again. just because he wanted to. actions just as loud as words. kissing you after sex, meaning he wanted you. all around. and you kissed him back and it meant the same thing. only breaking to breathe and laugh. it was peaceful.

it only went on for so long before you both calmed to tired high. his hand, pretty, soft, pushing your hair behind your ear and sliding down your neck, your shoulder, squeezing your upper arm just gently. not a word was spoken until you smiled to break the kiss. “is this weird?”

“no,” he replied. “just don’t tell patrick.”

“why?” you smiled.

he grinned his winning smile back at you, “because i want to.”

“uh huh.” you laughed and shoved him just a little, it was more like a touch. you didn’t mind if art told patrick. it didn’t feel like this was just a whim sort of thing. you liked art. really liked him. you shook your head, “ugh, i’m still high.”

“hungry.” he replied. “pizza?”

“dining hall.”

“not open.”

“ugh.”

“we have iced tea?”

“pizza.” you nodded. and like nothing was different at all, you both got dressed again and headed out. he held the door for you. it didn’t feel like much had changed at all. you were tired, that was one thing, but with art it just felt right, what you’d done. there truly was no downside. no consequences. not with him.

“you really shouldn’t wear that shirt in public.”

“why not?”

“shhhh.”

taglist: @ellzbellz18 @colorful-teaparty @ke4s @lalalandofive @ladystardust-thinks @iluvsmut36 @swetearss @xoxog0ssipg1rl @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa @bayleequits

#challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson one shot #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine #tinytennisskirt #challengers fic #challengers smut #challengers x reader #art x reader #challengers fluff

607 notes · View notes

kanekoii · 1 year ago

Note

How do you think Luxiem and Noctyx would react to collabing with the Reader who is a popular indie vtuber and their kamaoshi?

lyra’s notes -> methinks…you should read and find out

pairings -> luxiem, noctyx x gn! indie vtuber! kamioshi! reader

!! since this is intended to be romantic sorta, reader is male in uki’s part !!

genre -> scenario

song -> don’t wake me up - jonas blue & why don’t we

warnings -> they all have a crush on u, food in mysta’s part, joking mention of death in fuglur’s

VOX AKUMA ->

he’s going full adorable fanboy about it, screaming with joy when you agree to collab with him and freaking out over it on his twitter- i mean x. xitter. he will be so stoked about the opportunity to talk to you in person when he usually just lurks in your chat. he’ll take the opportunity to flirt with you and try to show off a little bit, only to fail miserably and be met with a laugh. yet he still made you laugh, so mission accomplished. he was so excited to collaborate with you and make you laugh, and he’s sure to ask to collab in the future.

IKE EVELAND ->

compliments. so many compliments. he’ll straight up tell you how excited he is to work with you and how you’re his kamioshi. ike will be sure to tell you how adorable he thinks you are and just how much he genuinely admires you. he is so absolutely smitten that poor boy can barely handle talking to you without blushing or getting flustered. the more times you collaborate, the more used to it he’ll become and the more he’ll start to hint at his crush on you.

LUCA KANESHIRO ->

he didn’t even believe you’d ask. you’re his literal kamioshi and you asked to collaborate with HIM of all people? he’s absolutely grateful for the opportunity to work with you and be able to talk to you more than just occasional comments in your chat when he’s not streaming. it was an off-collab too, so you’d be seeing him in person to see if he was just as pretty off camera as he was on. someone (me) akasupa’d and asked to give opinions on each other and the revelation that you loved his content just as much as or even more than he loved yours had his heart soaring.

SHU YAMINO ->

he would get SO flustered and nervous before you hop on call together to play the horror game he had chosen. it would likely lead to poor boy getting more scared than usual just because he’s nervous to be talking to someone he admires that much for the first time. he would most definitely try to flex his math skills too as some weird way of trying to gain your attention. every time he makes you even smile with his silly comments, his heart will soar out of pure pride.

MYSTA RIAS ->

he’s keeping it cool. or at the very least, he’s trying to. he knows his personality type doesn’t appeal to everyone and he’s so happy when he finds that you actually enjoy his loud yet introverted personality and his weird antics. the stream you did together was you teaching him how to cook without poisoning everyone. please teach him how to wash rice properly and how to cook it without the starch water. please i’m begging teach him how to cook and he will be so happy, bragging to chat that he learned this recipe from you.

FULGUR OVID ->

hooligan wants to play co-op rage games with you just to see you mald and absolutely lose it. hear me out, what if he invites you to a crab game or among us collab and introduces you to everyone and he gets teased for teaming with you and trying to essentially carry you. instead of die for nari it’s die for you. he will see to it personally that you win every game you play together just as a little chance to impress you and get you to smile. that would make him SO happy.

SONNY BRISKO ->

cutie will be so taken aback to see you in his chats sometimes, so a collaboration would be more than heaven to him. he looks up to you and your content so much that he’s sure he’s dreaming when he has a full conversation with you on stream. your collective chats ship it SO much. imagine all the ship edits when you do a stream together in person as an off-collab.

UKI VIOLETA ->

(male reader for this one) he would definitely do a baking stream! much like the ones he’s done with his fellow nijisanji en members, he gives vague instructions and you try to figure it out from there. while uki is muted, his viewers would be subject to comments about oh my god he’s adorable he’s trying so hard to make me happy. ugh boy is down bad and let’s just say there will be so many more streams like that in the near future <3

ALBAN KNOX ->

he’s SO insanely shy and nervous it’s adorable. though, as the stream with you goes on, he becomes less nervous and goes back to his normal silly self. if he needs to, he’ll break out the mickey voice to make you laugh but that’s a last resort. his personality compliments yours in such a way that it’s just so enjoyable to watch, and he’s such a comforting person to be around as well.

622 notes · View notes

freyito · 4 months ago

Text

ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ! ⨟ ɪᴅɪᴀ ꜱʜʀᴏᴜᴅ

✭ pairing(s): idia shroud x gn reader

✩ in which: he celebrates halloween with you.

✧ a/n: i got attached to this Guy overnight and i need to take a bite out of him. Anyways!

✦ taglist: @shinysora

→ trick or treat masterlist

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff :P, maybe a little ooc? (havent read ignihyde's chapter yet ((so many idia vignettes tho)), not proofread

✎ wc: 677

Trick

Well, for one, Idia is absolutely, positively, against any party whatsoever. He’s not here for the hype week, he’s in it for the candy and showing off his cosplay skills. As such, unless you are in his room at all times, he kind of sucks at communication during Halloween Season. Which means unless you want some alone time (or he kicks you out), you’re bunking with him quite a bit. No matter how much he protests.

You might get dragged into his games, especially with their Halloween events. If even one of them has a co-op or invitation event, you’re pushed into making a new account or joining him. And you must, at least, run dungeons with him 10 times a day. He has to stay at the top of rankings somehow! And you’re his key to that, one that he’s not necessarily willing to give up, either.

He also tends to buy extra candy. What, to give away? No! He’s hoarding this stuff like a dragon and it’s pile of gold. Sure, he’ll give you some, but if he has to play nice, he’s doubling his pay. In gummy worms. Oh, and he gatekeeps any gummies from other people. Not you, of course, you can take as much as you want (as long as you leave him some of the blue raspberry or cherry flavored ones). But, this leads to an excess of candy bags just… chilling in his room now. Not that he tosses them wherever he wants, he has a carefully crafted system, you know. But sometimes there is something known as too much candy.

Treat

Despite all of that, isn’t Idia the best person to hang out with during Halloween? With all his dedication to his costume, it comes out genuinely wonderful. He spent most of his time working on the finer details, one of the truest adaptations of… which character was it again? You’ve heard so much of this character that it feels like your brain has fizzled out. Regardless, his costume is still amazing, you’re a little jealous. And you’re sure you’ll hear much more about the character, and you’ll be subjected to watching the show regardless. Not that you mind.

You are in for a nice and cozy night, however. After the parade is done and Idia’s social battery is thoroughly drained, all he wants to do is either sleep (which he can’t because he’s gorged himself on candy), or finish up the events on his games to make sure he stays at the top of the rankings. Once he’s finally free of his costume (after about an hour…), he takes a couple of minutes in your arms, laying on top of you like a massive pillow, while he mutters something about his costume and what not. After about half an hour, he’s up and at ‘em, back at his game. Perhaps he’s realized how he’s neglected you over the month, and so he does his best to include you in his gametime, whether you choose to play with him, or simply sit on his bed and listen to what he has to say.

Before the sugar wears off, Idia is suddenly cramming in a last minute grind session, hopping from server to server to kill the event’s boss as the minutes tick down. Even as he’s fighting sleep, he’s kicking monster ass and topping the rankings. You can feel yourself slipping into sleep until he jolts you awake with a loud “YEEESSS!”. Almost immediately after that leaves his mouth, he’s apologizing profusely to you in a soft voice, completely forgetting about his game and slinking over with his hands out like he was calming down a scared horse.

With his win secured, he slips into bed easily. Which is earlier then he usually falls asleep, about a couple more hours before. But he’s won top ranking player during almost every event for three years in a row, and perhaps it’s time to celebrate (by sleeping early– and sleeping in even later), and also apologize for waking you up so abruptly.

#⁺◟freyito #⁺◟trick or treat!#idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia twst x reader

63 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 1 year ago

Text

Tougher Than the Rest

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 5.5K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | we have reached the last chapter of this story. thank you to everyone who has followed along with this one, it has truly been a treat working with these characters, so your love for them means a lot. as always i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line!

...................................

“Ellie, school in thirty! You better be up if you’re catching the train! Sorry about that, my daughter is– well, you know how kids can be. What was the question again?” She hates these things. These fluffy little interviews that her agent forces her into whenever she has a new book coming out. Good publicity and all that. Bullshit, if you ask her. Why can’t the book just speak for itself?

“No worries at all, I was wondering if you could tell me a little about your writing process for this last book, did you have a set routine or any rituals that propelled your work forward?” Rituals, gag her. She tries not to let out a dejected sigh over the phone, settling instead for an eye roll as she attempts to get Ellie’s lunch put together with one and a half hands, her phone settled precariously between her cheek and her shoulder as she puts together a pb and j, except not because Ellie’s school has a thing about peanut butter. So, sunflower butter and organic apricot jam from the co-op down the block that she somehow got wrangled into as a member.

“You know, I try not to be too precious about routines. I write as much as I can whenever I can. And as a mom, I have to take whatever time I can get.” The interviewer most certainly didn’t like that answer, a long right, okay crackling over the line. But what did he expect? Some sort of meticulous, meditative bullshit no doubt. Sorry, not her style.

“So, last question here, you have certainly established yourself over the last decade as a prolific writer. What is it that keeps you writing?” Well, that’s simple, isn’t it? If she keeps writing, she keeps herself from thinking about the past, about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. But her agent would probably throttle her for saying that, so something else in its place instead.

“I always wanted to be a writer growing up. It’s just– instinct, maybe impulse, frankly. I write because it’s what I know how to do, it’s how I figure out this world.” She tacks on that last bit hoping it will make up for the entirely unsexy rest of her responses, and judging by the hmm the interviewer lets out over the phone, it will suffice. All the usual niceties and a long sigh when she finally hangs up.

“Ellie, if you aren’t up I’m–”

“Jesus, I’m up, woman.” Her eleven-year-old has developed a new habit of calling her woman like a despondent husband in a loveless marriage, marching out of her bedroom and into the kitchen as she shoves papers into her backpack.

“Lunch for you, and I will be outside of the school at 3:30 to walk home with you, okay? Do you– I can walk with you this morning too if–”

“No, mom, I got it.” It stings, just a little, smarting, and then a small swell of pride that her girl is so independent.

“Okay, okay, let’s get some breakfast in you, huh? Smoothie, that sound good?” Ellie’s face scrunches up, but she doesn’t give her an abject no, and that’s enough for Cherry to get out the blender.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s in Texas?” Cherry freezes, her hand holding half a banana (non-GMO, whatever the fuck that means) suspended over the blender.

“What– where’s that question coming from?”

“On the computer last night, you had left it open to some construction company in Texas.” Shit, her smart girl. That was how Ellie found out that Santa wasn’t real two years ago, hopping on the desktop and finding the order confirmation for the pair of glow-in-the-dark Converse she had asked for in her letter addressed to the North Pole.

“Oh, um, that– I have a friend who is, uh, moving there and I’m helping her find someone to do work on her new house, yeah.” Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that answer, brow pinched up, but before she can question it, Cherry flips on the blender, letting it whir just a little longer than it needs to.

“Alright, breakfast of champions, you can drink it on the train, yeah? You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.” A quick flurry to pour the smoothie into a to-go cup and then out the door, love you, be safe, bye. A big sigh when she slumps back against the shut door, close one.

Yes, maybe, a moment of weakness yesterday. A moment of weakness while she was working over edits for her next book. Somehow, up until yesterday, she had managed to not let a moment of weakness creep in. But before she knew what she was doing, she was googling his name and Austin, Texas. And there he was, with his own business no less.

Yes, maybe, she had left a tab open on the Miller’s Construction website’s About Us page. And yes, maybe, she had left the page zoomed in on the picture of Joel in the top corner. And yes, maybe, none of her edits had gotten done because she was a little busy looking at said picture for the better portion of the afternoon.

So the first thing that she does after cleaning up the small cyclone in the kitchen is log onto the computer to delete that tab, not letting herself linger on the photo any longer. But he looks good, she thinks. Doing good for himself, she thinks. Not letting that thought get any bigger, that want crack open any more than it already has, right back to work on her edits.

But her mind is fickle this morning, still stuck on that photo, still stuck on him in a way she hasn’t been in a while. Maybe it’s because of the appointment she has at noon. An impulsive choice she made and, for some reason, has kept. A way to hold onto something she should have let go a long time ago. But she can’t.

And yes, maybe, her morning is spent in a constant toggle between the open tab of her word doc, and that damn About Us page on the Miller’s Construction website.

…

He’s nervous. And he’s not sure why, because it’s her, right? It’s them. Except this is new. Not something they ever got to do in the past. Not like this at least.

“Hey there.” She’s in a dress when she opens the door, and his mind has to quickly configure around the fact that this is the first time he has seen her in a dress in two decades, though he probably should have expected that, right? Because people dress up for these things, something that Sarah said to him very slowly like he was an invalid, prompting him into a button-down before he left.

“Hey, Cherry, you look, uh, yeah– look real good.” She smiles, still leaning in the doorframe, but before she can speak, someone else beats her to it.

“Wow, real smooth, man.”

“Ellie.” Cherry hisses it over her shoulder, but Joel never sees the kid, just hears her lowly murmured what? I’m just saying, geez. Already off to a great start.

“Sorry about the peanut gallery, but I’m ready if you are.”

No more sneaking around, no more questioning if this is real or not. They’re doing the thing that normal people do, normal people in a normal relationship. They’re going on a date.

“I like this.” She hums it, reaching across the console from the passenger seat to thumb at the collar of his shirt, her palm smoothing down over his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you clean up very pretty, Miller.” Just a little snark tinging the end of her words, making him huff as she keeps rubbing distracting circles into his chest.

“Well, you’re in fine form, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With that, her hand trails up, palm slipping behind the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the errant curls there while he fights the urge for his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Sure, Cher, at this rate we’re not even gonna make it to the restaurant.” He regrets saying it instantly, because just as soon as the words leave his mouth, she’s taking her hand away, sitting prim and perfect in the passenger seat where she had been completely turned toward him before.

“Right, sorry, best behavior.” Her words slant with the simper of her smile, and he has to remind himself that they’re doing this normal thing now. No need to hurry, no need to hide, no need to steal time. Because she’s staying, and so is he.

By some stroke of luck, they do make it to the restaurant, and it’s right about then that Joel realizes it has been a woefully long time since he has been on a date. He has to stutter himself into all the motions, trying to remember the right moves, opening the door for her, a bit flustered when he pulls her chair out for her and she snorts.

“Well you don’t get this kind of treatment in New York.” To make the matter of his quick creeping flush worse, she presses a kiss to his cheek before she sits down. He gets to have that now, totally normal. He’s still getting used to totally normal.

“So how is the book coming along?” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask that, what might still be a sore subject. For a moment, her face falls, fear flickering in his chest that he has fucked up, though she smooths it out, something like a smile still at the edges of her eyes.

“Do you really want to hear me talk about that?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Can I ask you something first?” He nods, of course, taking a cursory sip of his wine as she does the same.

“Did you– what did you think? About the other ones?” She asks it shy, her cheek propped in her hand, smile crumpled to one side. His mind reels with what he could say, though he’s not sure if any of it’s right. It’s not like he has some dazzlingly intellectual thing to say. But she’s asking him, she wants to know what he thinks, and he muses to himself that she’s been wanting to know what he thinks for a while.

“I was amazed by every single one, Cher. And I was proud of you too, even though I had no business feeling that way. It was– I thought about you, a lot, over the years. And getting to read your books, it felt like I could be a little closer to you that way.” He surprises himself with the stark honesty of his words, but how could he offer her anything else when she’s looking at him like that? Smile softening in the dim light of the restaurant, cheeks brimming up with the praise.

“I always wondered, you know, if you were reading them. I– I guess that’s a little ridiculous.” He’s still getting used to this too, being able to reach out for her, taking her hand in his across the table.

“Not ridiculous, and I’m looking forward to reading the new one.”

“I sent the second draft in two days ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, my editor fucking destroyed my first one, so we’ll see how this draft goes over.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering, Cher, when the hell did you get that trucker’s mouth of yours?” She laughs big and bright, shoulders shrugging up to her ears, a little flail to her hands that makes him laugh too.

“I mean, it’s definitely a New York thing. That, and people just started pissing me off a lot more, so I kinda had to.”

“I tried to cut back on it when Sarah got old enough to start picking stuff up. She still managed to slip a few fucks into her vocabulary in the first grade.”

“Oh god, I actually got called into the school when Ellie was in the first grade because she told a boy at recess to leave her the fuck alone. Honestly, I was more proud than anything else, is that bad?”

“Fuck no, it’s not bad. I’d probably take Sarah for ice cream if she did the same.” She sighs around a smile, and he finds himself doing the same, settling into this ease. Yes, he thinks, it’s going to take some getting used to. But he’s more than happy to be getting used to it with her.

…

“I’d like to get it on my right shoulder, if that works okay.” If her mother could see her now. She doesn’t look in the mirror until the tattoo artist has stamped the stencil into place, a satisfied hum in her throat when she gets a look at the design.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she was going to keep this appointment. She had made it under the pleasant flush of two glasses of wine late one night about a month ago, surprised to receive an email from the artist saying that they loved her idea and wanted to get her on the books. And for some reason, she didn’t say no, didn’t cancel, and is now laying out on a tattoo table and bracing for the first pass of the needle.

It’s not too bad, a little cringey when the artist is working right over the cap of her shoulder, but otherwise it passes quickly, and before she knows it, she’s standing back in front of the mirror on shaky legs, looking at the twining cherry branch now wrapping around her upper arm.

“It’s perfect, thank you. I love it.” Ellie has rather different feelings about it, her jaw dropping loose when Cherry meets her outside of her school, still warm enough that she’s only in a t-shirt, showing off part of her still-wrapped ink.

“What is that?” There’s no playing it off, Ellie refusing to move until Cherry gives her an answer.

“That is a tattoo, and before you ask, no, not until you’re eighteen.” Ellie balks at that, though Cherry is quick to sling her arm around her girl’s shoulders to set them both walking toward the subway.

“Is it– what is it?” Ellie takes the one leftover seat in the train and Cherry hooks her elbow around the rail in front of her, a perfect opportunity for her kid to get a better look at her new tattoo.

“It’s a cherry tree.”

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo.” She says it with a sigh, like somehow, this is the worst news ever. Cherry has to hold back a laugh, knowing that it will only put Ellie in even worse of a tiff.

“What’s wrong with tattoos?”

“Nothing, but you’re my mom, you’re not supposed to get tattoos.” Ellie grumbles out the last words, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff, perfectly petulant. Cherry gives her little episode about twenty more minutes before she forgets all about it and asks what’s for dinner.

When they do get back to their apartment, Cherry just barely catches the ringing phone, surprised, though pleasantly, when she hears Will on the other end.

“Hey, what’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Hey, yeah, I just thought I’d give you a call.” She knows exactly what that means. It’s only been recently that she and Will can talk like this, call like this. She got out, and he did too, and for a while that had to be enough for the both of them, slinking around the past like they could somehow forget it. It was Will that reached out to her first, and she was relieved for it, not sure if he resented her, or even hated her for the way she left. He didn’t, he understood, and he wanted to know how his big sister was doing.

“Mom?” He sighs over the phone, exactly what she thought. For some reason, their mother still reaches out to him, an errant phone call that he somehow can’t seem to dodge.

“She called to tell me that they’re moving to Arizona.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“Yeah, so I guess that means Austin has finally been fumigated.” Cherry snorts, trying to let that be funny, though all it really feels is bitter.

“You’re not thinking about going back, are you?” Because suddenly, she is. An impossibility for so long, now a little more possible.

“Hell no, Portland has been good to me. I only just managed to lose the accent.”

“I liked your accent, Will. I’m afraid mine has started sounding a little too Brooklyn lately.”

“Yeah, you have that kinda eternally angry thing going on in your voice now.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my eternally angry voice is what gets me book deals.”

“Sure, that’s what it is, miss New York Times bestseller.” She scoffs, a flustered murmur of yeah, yeah, whatever, always quick to change the subject from anything like that.

“You’re still coming for Christmas though, right? I’d– we’d really love to have you. I’ve been telling Ellie about you.” Something new, she never thought Ellie would get any kind of extended family. Definitely no grandparents, but an uncle would be nice.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” He has something else to say, she can tell by the way his words fizzle out. She doesn’t push though, just waits.

“You don’t think about going back, do you? To Texas?” Her throat tightens, a quick glance down the hall to check that Ellie’s bedroom door is still closed.

“No, why would I want to?”

“Oh come on, out of the two of us I’d say you’d have an actual reason to.”

“What are you talking about?” Like maybe she could bullshit her way out of this, but he is her brother, after all. He always liked Joel, definitely looked up to him. And he was also one of the only people that knew about their relationship, always willing to cover for her sneaking around, for the flat rate price of a new comic book.

“Not what, who.”

“Will, that’s ancient history. That’s– that’s even past ancient history. It was another life.”

“I know, I just– I always thought you two were gonna be it, you know? Even before that summer, y’all were always something else.”

“Careful, they’ll throw you out of Portland for saying y’all like that.” That gets half a laugh out of him, just enough to drop the subject.

“All this talk of Texas must be getting to me. Anyways, just wanted to call and tell you the big news or whatever.”

“Alright, well, big news aside, it’s always good to hear from you. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, sis, love you.”

“Love you too.” That’s new, she’s glad for it.

Afternoons, after school, but before dinner, this is her favorite time. Sometimes, Ellie will still let her help with her homework, or at least allow her presence on the edge of her bed while she works, might even answer a few questions about her day or her friends. Eleven going on thirty, or something like that. By the time dinner rolls around, her girl has warmed up to her enough to sit at the kitchen counter while she chops vegetables.

“So, why a cherry tree?”

“Oh, it’s an old story, a friend of mine from a long time ago, not interesting. Hey, I saw the email from the school about career day next week, were you gonna tell me about that?” A quick change of subject, two birds with one stone, really. Ellie’s face scrunches up at her question.

“Yeah, but like, you’re too busy for it anyways.” She barely looks up from her math worksheet as she says it, like no big deal, though Cherry’s stomach immediately sinks.

“Woah, woah, babe, I am absolutely not too busy for that. I’m never too busy for you, what– why do you think that?” Ellie just shrugs, still intent on her fractions.

“Because of the new book and stuff. You’re very preoccupied.” One of her new vocab words for the week, preoccupied, right.

“Els, will you look at me, please? I am never too busy for you, okay? None of that shi–stuff matters more than you do. And I’d really love to go to career day, if you want me to be there.” Ellie seems to consider that proposition, a big burst of relief when she nods.

“Yeah, you’re cooler than a lot of the other parents anyways. They all do boring stuff for work.” She’ll take it, trying to temper her grin at her girl’s small praise as she gets back to prepping dinner. She’ll have to remember to wear long sleeves for career day, not wanting to give the PTA moms any more gossip fodder than they already have about her. Single mom, single writer mom with no family to be heard of. Not a very good look to all those upper-crust types, not that she could give a shit about it. But she doesn’t want her black sheepness to rub off on Ellie, play dates and hang outs to be scheduled and all that, so, definitely long sleeves for career day.

Much later, Ellie in bed reading, and no impending emails or phone calls, Cherry finally takes another look at the tattoo before getting in the shower.

If nothing else, ever, at least this.

…

“So.” She says it all long and drawn out, her hands clasped behind her back as she sways a little in front of his truck, sooooo. It’s dark out by the time they leave the restaurant, both of them a little loose, a little languid from a few glasses of wine, though he’s still sober enough to feel a lick of nerves run up his spine as he tries to figure out what’s the right next move, what normal people do on a date like this.

“Sarah is at Tommy’s for the night, if you don’t have to be home just yet?” No, probably not what normal people do on a first date. But no, not their first date either, not really. And nothing normal about this either, not really. Cherry, smiles, all crooked shadows in the faint glow coming from the restaurant. She really is a sight. He’s been stealing sweeping glances all night, collecting her up in pieces in his mind. The bare skin of her thighs, just a suggestion of it with the slip of her dress. Her dress, he thinks she knows that it’s just a little cruel that she’s wearing that dress judging by the way she moves, shoulders rolled back, always a ghost of a grin like she’s getting away with something. Instinct or just plain impulse to reach out for her, to let his knuckles graze along the neckline of her dress, the smallest shiver when he trails from the sweet plunge up along the slope of her shoulder.

“Ellie was going to a sleepover, so I don’t have to be anywhere until my chauffeur services are needed tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

He is trying, all of his effort, really, to focus on the road when they start driving back to his house. But Cherry isn’t exactly making it easy with the way her hand is splayed on his thigh, and he has to clear his throat when her nails graze along the inseam of his pants.

“Everything alright?” He only glances away for a beat, though it’s enough time to see the smug curl of her smile.

“You– you’re–” His breath hitches before he can finish that thought, Cherry’s knuckles grazing against his already aching cock through his pants, though her hand is gone just as soon, settling lower, just above his knee.

“What am I, baby?”

“I think you know what you are.” Her laugh comes in bells, chirping high as she tips her head back, the shock-white flash of her teeth in the corner of his eye.

“I think you like it.” High, like wings fluttering each word she says. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes still on the road while he reaches across the console for her, his palm slipping from her shoulder up the slope of her neck, fingers curling around her nape and his thumb stroking the hinge of her jaw, his own silent answer, his.

They’re both quiet stepping inside his house, lights off so the rooms are washed down in dark swaths of shadow. Up the stairs and into his room, she doesn’t look at the books this time, all her attention on him.

No need to rush, no need to hide, no need to lie about what this really is. A first for two decades later, they can take their time with each other, because there will be plenty more of it to offer, to receive.

“I thought about you, you know.” He knows that she’s talking about a particular kind of thinking about him, her eyes heavy with it.

“Show me, Cher.” Broken thoughts that somehow still get pieced together, the easy slip of her dress falling around her feet, stepping out of fabric and laying back on his bed. Perfect like this, her knees bent and falling open to the sides. He finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, his palm cupping the slope of her calf before sliding down, fingers curling loosely around her ankle. Something to tether him, to convince him that this is real, that all her want is for him. From the start, she was always surprising him, always finding some fresh way to make his head spin. She still is. Propped up on one elbow, her other palm trailing down the center of her chest, pausing there to let her fingers graze against her nipple, the smallest hitch of her breath making his cock pulse. And then lower, his eyes going heavy watching her hand move over the soft clench of her stomach before settling just over her pelvis. Forefinger and middle spreading herself open for him to see, swollen and pearling pleasure, obscene and a little world-ending.

And it’s his name. His name that she whispers when she dips two of her fingers into her cunt, his hand curling a little closer around her ankle at the sight and sound. A slick smear of heat, the way the tendons in her hips jump with the effort of staying splayed for him, slack and then tense all over when the pads of her fingers catch against her clit.

Please, not enough, please, want you. But he wants to see, her preening pleas falling on deaf ears. Because he wants to see how she thought about him all those miles away, years away, and aching for him. And he was aching for her too. Go on, Cher, just like that. She huffs, brow pulling down in a pinch of frustration, but she still allows, the small jump of her wrist, the veins in her hand jittering as two fingers find a stuttered rhythm, her hips tilting into each thrust. And he’s mean for doing this, cruel even, slipping sorry beneath his palm as it skates up her shin, smoothing and soothing. I know, I know, it’s not enough, is it? Never enough he thinks, it was never enough.

“Stop teasing, come here.” Never saying no to her, and he already knows it, making as quick work as he can of the buttons of his shirt, the warm flush of bare skin against bare skin when he finally settles between her legs, one palm splayed next to her temple and the other bunched in the sheets beside her hip. All brilliant machinery, two bodies moving together like they never stopped, her knee hitching up along his hip as his palm slides down along the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. He rests his thumb over her clit, presence more than anything else, though Cherry doesn’t allow that for long, another huff, another don’t tease that he chases after with a hard stamp of a kiss.

And when he finally spreads her open with one shuddering snap of his hips, his breath gets caught in his chest, pleasure finally catching up to him and crackling down his spine. His mouth rests open and wanting below the dip of her clavicle, the slight press of skin that comes with each of her inhales, like a bird beating around in her ribs, short and stuttered and certain.

Quiet whispers, need you to move, baby, that word never failing to snare his mind, all he can do to give her what she wants with a slow roll of his hips that’s already turning greedy in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass at the end, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat.

And no, not taking their time, both of them growing desperate for that tight furl of pleasure settling between them. Just a little obscene in the way the bed scrapes against the floor with every thrust, the sound melding and mixing with the breathy little moans Cherry can’t seem to stop, not that he would want her to. He groans when he reaches between them to thumb at her clit, her cunt dripping around him, a dizzying flutter of heat that he wants more of. And when Cherry says more, right there something snaps in him, animal, incessant in the way he slips his palms under the swell of her ass, lifting her hips up so her thighs rest over his, fucking up into her from his haunches, strong enough that he can do that now, move and make her with his hands like this. Pulled taut, her body one long line of pleasure, he watches the perfect tendons in her throat jump with a whine of his name.

It’s a devastating heat when she does come, spine arching before she slumps down in his grasp. He stills inside her, a whimper in her throat when his hips absent-mindedly shift against hers. C’mere, c’mere, pulling him down, her palms running up his sides before slipping over his shoulders, mapping him out as she catches her breath.

“I love you so much, Joel.” The sound he makes is pathetic at best, a little broken battering in his ribs. And he should ask if she’s good, if he can, if it’s okay for him to, but he needs it so bad, needs her so bad that he’s already finding that rhythm again, harsh breaths with each thrust. Not far behind her, not with the way she’s murmuring all her want into his ear, something that sounds like love when that pleasure finally snaps and shimmers under his skin.

Perfect like this in the after, holding onto each other, mouths finding whatever slip of skin they can, kissing it better.

“It’s you and me, Cher. I love you.” Her fingers still in their gentle sweep through his hair, a little tug to get his eyes up to hers.

“Plus two.” Confused at first, he has to laugh when his brain catches up to what she’s saying.

“Right, you and me, plus two.”

…

Her least favorite time of the day, or night, really. Ellie asleep, just her and the blinking cursor in her word document. It’s about this time every night that it settles back in under her skin. She doesn’t know what to call it. Loneliness feels pitiful, and patently untrue because she has her girl, and that’s all she needs. It’s like an ache, like a physical lack that she manages to forget about in all the fret and fuss of the day, still there, still sore.

Tonight, something particular to soothe that ache. That damn web page, and that damn photo of him. Different, older, but still him. A small part of her, a young part, wonders if he has read her books, if he’s seen her photo on the dust jackets and traced all the small nicks and nips of time the same way that she does now, her face pressed close to the screen of her computer to collect up any new detail.

She quits while she’s ahead, sigh, shut the whole thing off, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try to stamp out the picture of him.

An ache, a want, that has been there for nearly two decades. When Will had told her about their parents moving out of Austin, hope had been quick to flicker up and around her ribs, a silly thing. Silly to ache like this, to want like this, to presume that he’s been waiting around for her.

She’s been waiting for him though, she realizes. Wanting for him. So would it be so crazy to think that, maybe, he’s been wanting for her too?

........................................

taglist:

@spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars @sarahxxo3 @harriedandharassed @anoverwhelmingdin

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fics #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller au

184 notes · View notes

blueberry-lemon · 1 year ago

Text

Shouting into the Void about Palia, which has begun its open beta.

Palia is a "cozy sim MMO set in a fantasy world", as pitched by the developers at Singularity Six. If I had to set it up in one sentence, I would pitch it as something like "what if an MMO didn't need to have combat?"

Which is something I'm really excited about.

To clarify, I think the MMO term is slightly misleading. When you log on, you're sent to an instance of around 25 players or so, similar to how Sea of Thieves works. For what it's worth, I think this is actually a preferable experience versus being a "true MMO" with hundreds of people crowding around the town area. I think they made the right call.

Although I have some small critiques and some reservations about recommending Palia during its open beta state, I'm having a really fun, relaxing time and I'm really looking forward to how the game grows. Full thoughts below.

--- I'm sure people will be quick to compare Palia to Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing. This is valid, and probably something the developer wants you to do. Like those games, Palia is about relaxing and having a good time in a simple town with charming NPCs.

That said, I think the closest analogs to how Palia works are actually Disney Dreamlight Valley and Yonder: The Cloud Catcher Chronicles. Dreamlight Valley I think is the most direct competition, so to speak. It's funny to see that another developer got to the multiplayer pie before Disney's teams were able to fully add multiplayer, lol.

In Palia, you dress up your character and you customize your home. I think the art is really great, and the animation has really impressed me. There's a great variety of outfits (although to be clear, 30% of clothing options are available from the start and the other 70% is, for now, premium currency only.) There's unfortunately only 2 choices of body type in the Open Beta, although the devs claim that more are coming.

There's a shocking amount of customization for your house and your lawn. At least, picture Animal Crossing: New Horizons but with better controls for dragging and dropping where you want everything. People who like setting up their plot of land will have a good time. You can even expand your property to make it larger.

The core of Palia's loop involves you hopping around between progressing the Main Story and progressing 8 different skills: Cooking, Hunting, Bug Catching, Gardening, Foraging, Fishing, Furniture Making, and Mining. In addition to this, you're progressing your friendship meter with the different NPCs and, if you'd like, selecting one to Romance.

There's some really smart innovations in Palia that I like.

For example, your Mining skill only increases when you PICK UP the ore loot that drops from destroying a vein of ore. Why is that? Because you're supposed to work together with friends and strangers. If the skill increased for each time your pickaxe struck the vein, then you'd get annoyed if your friend helped you, because working together would destroy the vein in less strikes. If the skill increased for destroying a vein, then only the person who got the "last hit" would reap the exp reward. In Palia, so long as a player strikes the vein at least once, the loot will drop for them when it's destroyed. This way, anyone around you can "get their hand on that ball" by helping strike the vein at least once. This encourages working together, sharing the loot, etc. The same goes for chopping trees: anyone who contributes at all will get the wood that drops. This naturally encourages people to work together. There's no reason not to, because you're not "stealing" the loot from anyone else or "stealing" the exp.

Cooking is the most fleshed out co-op experience from what I've seen. Recipes require ingredients and a stove or prep station. Then, when you start the recipe, you do minigames to chop ingredients and stir them. So long as any player contributes an ingredient or does one of the minigames, they get the full exp and the finished dishes from cooking, even if that contributing player doesn't have the recipe. So if your friend loves cooking, and has a bunch of recipes, they can initiate the cooking and then you can bring the mushrooms and do the chopping. Then you all get to level up and get the dishes.

Even activities like Fishing are more fun to do together. If you fish near someone else who's fishing, you'll both get a buff that makes the fish bite your hooks much sooner. It stacks higher the more you fish together.

Another smart innovation: a rework of the infamous "stamina meter." This time, it's a Focus Meter. If your Focus Meter drops to 0, nothing happens. You don't pass out, you don't starve, nothing. However, if you DO have Focus, you get a Exp Gain Multiplier. This encourages you eating dishes to stay well-fed without punishing you too strongly if you ignore it.

And then, lastly, the core conceit of the game: there's no combat or danger. Although there is a Hunting Mechanic, it's completely one-sided, like hunting deer (which the game is quick to tell you are overpopulated in the area.) You can't die, you can't get hurt, you don't take fall damage, you don't even have health, period. I think this is great at trimming the unnecessary parts of a game like this and keeping it truly relaxing.

Although I'm having a fun time, I can't wholly recommend the open beta of Palia for everyone. The game is still early in its life and is missing a lot of important UI/UX and central features. The Pause and Settings menus are pretty sparse. You can only have 1 character so far, there aren't multiple character slots. You can't even change your characters name once you've made it, so choose carefully. In addition, you might feel like there "isn't enough to do together" if you play with friends, which is similar to a complaint I have about Animal Crossing multiplayer. It's mostly a chill hangout game about fishing next to each other.

There are a lot of things in the game that still need to be fleshed out, but I'm really happy with the core structure they've set up. Once this game leaves Open Beta, I think it'll be an easier recommendation, especially for folks who have enjoyed Disney Dreamlight Valley. I think these devs are smart about how they're handling the core desire here: wanting to play a game like Final Fantasy XIV or Stardew Valley without having to worry about combat or stamina.

My partner and I love to play these relaxing zone-out types of games. While trying Atelier Ryza recently, my partner said: "I just want a game where you zone-out and pick stuff up off the ground." My friends, we finally found it. It's called Palia.

You can find the Palia Open Beta on PC, and the game is slated to release on Nintendo Switch.

#Palia #Palia game #Disney Dreamlight Valley #shouting into the void #sitv #blogofkylelab

188 notes · View notes

green-ejgyhdgghvfk · 1 month ago

Text

Stealth Elf: Oh look, there's a pizza slice.

Hex: *accidentally eats it* Oops.

Stealth Elf: You are at full health!

Hex: I walked into it on accident.

Stealth Elf: Alright that's fine there's some more over-

Hex: *eats another pizza slice*

Stealth Elf: Why!?

Hex: I thought it was gold.

Stealth Elf: Do you have to eat them immediately? And will you stop jumping!?

Roller Brawl: *hopping up and down* I don't- I don't know why this is happening.

Hex: I picked up a bomb how do I use it?

Stealth Elf: Press RT.

Hex: Okay. *throws it*

Stealth Elf: Not right now!

Hex: You said press RT.

Stealth Elf: When obstacles appear!

Hex: Okay let's go.

Stealth Elf: No there's a chest- *gets pulled along by the co-op tether* There is a chest back- ow- You idiot!

Hex: But the gate is open.

Stealth Elf: I- ....Roller what are you doing!?

Roller Brawl: *walking into a wall* Oh sorry I mixed up characters. I thought I was you for a sec.

Stealth Elf: WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?

#skylanders #incorrect skylanders #incorrect skylanders quotes #incorrect quotes #stealth elf #hex #roller brawl

17 notes · View notes

its-wabby-stuff · 10 months ago

Text

How Human is your Animal?

Based on animalistic representation in Media. Ranging from anthropomorphic to everyday pet.

A tier list for your convenience

S Tier- Humans don’t exist here

Qualifications: the world has no humans, animals tend to walk on hind legs and participate in human like societies, most likely anthropomorphic but not required

Zootopia, Kung Fu Panda, Sing, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Chicken Little, My Little Pony, Goofy Movie, Ducktales, Robin Hood, Angry Birds, Samurai Rabbit, Paws of Fury, Spiderhams Universe

A Tier- I see, a little co-op happening

Qualifications: the world has humans, humans acknowledge animals in some way, they can be hired/considered for jobs and/or are active in society. Might be considered mutants

Paddigton, Muppets, Stuart Little, The Bad Guys, Pinnocio, Shrek universe, Care Bears, the Bee Movie, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3, and subsequently the entire MCU, Monsters Inc, Storks, Looney Tunes, TMNT, MHA, Yogi Bear, We Bare Bears, Chip N’ Dale: Rescue Rangers (2022), Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Hop, Wonderland, James and the Giant Peach, Hoodwinked, Mr. Peabody and Sherman, Ichabod and Toad, Sonic Movie

B Tier- Your getting suspiciously close

Qualifications: act more human like, perhaps develop a hidden society or walk on hind legs or plan elaborate heists, it’s just not quite right for an animal

Madagascar, Ice Age, Shark Tale, Surfs Up, Snoopy, Rescuers, SpongeBob, Ratatouille, Horton Hears a Who, Free Birds, Great Mouse Detective, Chicken Run, Flushed Away, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Tom and Jerry, Secret of Nym, Tale of Desperaeux, American Tail, Once Upon a Forest, Garfield, Over the Hedge, Rango

C Tier- Communication is key in fostering animal relationships

Qualifications: Perhaps by magical transformation or special gift or something that has always been kept a secret until now, these animals are able to talk to you

Cinderella, Tarzan, Jungle Book, Epic, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, Charlottes Web, Scooby Doo, Happy Feet, Snow White, Pete’s Dragon, Princess and the Frog, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, Spies In Disguise, Emperors New Groove, Enchanted, Sophia the First, Peter Rabbit, Meet the Robinsons, Anastasia, Swan Princess, Dr. Dolittle, Leo, Up

D Tier- Oh look, it’s gaining complexity

Qualifications: although animals have been known to convey emotions nothing is more complex than creating Shakespearean like storylines. Humans take to the sidelines

Lion King, Finding Nemo, 101 Dalmatians, Bambi, Land Before Time, The Secret Life of Pets, Bugs Life, Oliver and Company, All Dogs go to Heaven, Lady and the Tramp, Fox and the Hound, Aristocats, Migration, Bolt, Dinosaur, The Good Dinosaur, Super Pets, Dumbo, Home in the Range, G-force, The Wild, Spirit, Rio, Curious George

F Tier- It’s all okay, animals are just animals here

Qualifications: Imagine your pet in a movie, that’s prolly what fits here. The everyday dog, or cat, or shark. Likely plays a part in the plot progression of the movie

Babe, Jurassic Park, Milo and Otis, Old Yeller, Life of Pi, Sword in the Stone, Beethoven, A Dogs Purpose, We Bought a Zoo, Pokémon, Dolphins Tale, Homeward Bound, The Black Stallion, Marley and Me, Jaws, King Kong, How to Train Your Dragon

Z Tier- So it doesn’t work like other places, but it works for you

Qualifications: a Universe with its own set of rules, perhaps jumping into a place outside of their own where rules seem just a little different. Who can say if it was real, or a dream?

Mary Poppins, Spiderverse, Fantasia, Mario Bros, Song of the South, Alice in Wonderland (cartoon), Calvin and Hobbes

Each placing is based on the highest human to animal ratio in universe even if that is one exception. This is for fun, don’t take it too seriously. You’re welcome to fill in anything you think is missing. If I mentioned one of your favorite movies you have to reblog, I don’t make the rules.

😉

48 notes · View notes

dandelion-wings · 2 years ago

Text

it is funny though because today the person who keeps inviting me said "Xiangling and Chongyun are really strong!" after our third person with the DPS Ganyu dropped out and I switched to them, and I went "yeah, I've put a lot of time into them, they're my best-built" and they went "THEY'RE TRIPLE-CROWNED??!! *_*" and then did a little hopping-around dance and it was very cute XD

when I co-op with one other person I usually use Xiangling and Chongyun, because they've been my top-tier Melt team since the early days and still do pretty well even if they don't have the rest of any of their usual parties (Xingqiu for Freeze/Melt and Shenhe and Xinyan for my "kill anything in ten seconds" heavy Melt), but when there's multiple people (which has been happening a lot lately because I've ended up on the friendslist of someone who is constantly inviting me to their world and then has other people there) I usually end up with Bennett, just because he's a good all-around character that I'm good at playing, so why not

#i'm pretty sure this person is a kid #i keep acquiring kids on my friendslist #who co-op into my world and then add me #almost all of them want to show me their strongest characters #i'll have them hop in just to be like 'i finished building [character]!'#and make me fight something so i can admire their numbers #which is funny because my numbers are terrible #but i AM very good at applauding theirs!

11 notes · View notes

lowpolynpixelated · 3 months ago

Text

Echo Point Nova: Tribes Ascended

Echo Point Nova may be one of the best cases I've ever seen for people wanting to frag like its 2001. Today's gaming landscape, particularly the independent scene, is thriving with revivals of all sorts of proto-FPS genre shooters. From the singleplayer campaign driven "Boomer Shooter" games like Amid Evil and Zortch to those who long for the multiplayer days of Unreal Tournament with games like Splitgate or the squad tactics of Battlefield 2 with games Battlebit Remastered, these styles are certainly coming back into style. I want to talk about a very particular type of action that was lost long ago in a sea of games and buried revival promises, I want to talk about Tribes.

Releasing originally in 1998 as Starsiege: Tribes the game garnered its own following thanks to its fast paced movement centered approach to Deathmatch and Capture the Flag gameplay. Jetpacks combined with a physics engine bug that let you "ski" around maps a la sliding down slopes and ramping off hills made for incredible fun action packed fights. Three years later in 2001, Tribes 2 debuted making skiing an official form of gameplay, building on the fun of the previous title. The game fell somwhere in between quake arena and unreal tournament, with vehicles, large open maps, a bevy of scifi weaponry, and fast paced action. Though the series would go on all the way to 2012 with the free to play Tribes Ascend by HiRez Studios, the game has since been yet another title in an ever growing pile of "forgotten classics". Until now.

So what IS Echo Point Nova? Stay with me here, EPN (to save some time and typing) is a scifi action shooter where you explore an open world of floating islands with the help of a grappling hook, a hoverboard, and a momentum system that only slows down when you tell it to. EPN is in almost every way, a singleplayer/co-op successor to Tribes. Trading out the scifi weapons for a more modern military arsenal doesn't take away much of the fun. Zipping around and clearing out hordes with a .50 cal sniper rifle is just as fun as a railgun, and blasting mechs with an RPG is just as satisfying as a triple rocket launcher could be. The game WANTS you to feel fast, to feel dangerous, like only the best of the best could stop you. All it's missing is proper PVP, which the developer wants to add support for soon as of the writing of this article. Lets get more specific though.

Level Design:

One half of the puzzle is how EPN's world gives you truly unbridled freedom to explore at breakneck paces. If you thought the vistas and cliffs of breath of the wild being open was impressive, this puts that to shame handily. A massive world of floating island arenas awaits you, all you have to do is get there. As mentioned before the game provides you with a few modes of transit, a grappling hook, your hoverboard, and a set of supplementary equipment like air boost pads and grenades that you can use to gain height very quickly. Movement in the game is nothing short of gorgeous. Fast, fluid, and effortlessly smooth, you can glide and hop your way to just about everywhere.

Let's talk more about the hoverboard, arguably the games most shown off feature. Holding down what would traditionally be a sprint button allows you to speedily glide over any form of terrain the game can throw at you. Grass, snow, sand, lava, all of it. On top of this, touching any flat surface that isn't the ground or a floor with the hoverboard will allow you to grind across and up said surface, gaining you some sweet style points in the process. The game is VERY generous with the grinding, and lets you stay on unless the terrain itself is too uneven to glide over without launching yourself off. Using this you can scale entire mountains and grind circles around the poor enemies of the game, giving them little chance at keeping up with you. Combined with the grappling hook, which allows you to propel yourself in whatever direction you're aiming despite where you grappled on to, you can reach truly dizzying heights and speed with ease. All of this is to say that the game's level design allows for pure freedom of movement. Rarely will you find yourself not jumping or grinding your way around spacious combat arenas laden with half pipe ramps and grind rails. Verticality is KING in Echo Point Nova, and the world knows that. Vast desert expanses, rolling mountaintops, fractured shards of floating rock, its got it all and it is good.

Gameplay:

Though I already went over the gameplay a bit in the last section with the movement and traversal, I'd like to focus a bit more on the core shooting of EPN and just how good it feels to do so. The game gives you access to a decently sized array of pistols, SMGs, assault rifles, shotguns, sniper rifles/DMRs, and explosives to do in the cyborg mercenary armies that oppose you. All of which feel incredible. Perhaps the only negative point I could give is that many weapons can often feel very fast and loose, but the game's projectile system more than makes up for it when allowing you to pepper entire areas with two entire glock magazines. Complimentary to the guns are the perks you earn from doing the game's core combat loop of arriving in an arena and spawning enemies until you've killed the requisite amount for that particular challenge. Perks can range from giving you more ramming speed on your hoverboard (oh yeah you can ram enemies with your hoverboard by the way) to the very first perk you gain, Adrenaline, slowing down time for a few seconds via a refillable meter you gain just for moving at high speeds.

Combat becomes a gravity defying dance of bullets and explosions. Ramping off enemies here, grappling them into them there, throwing out a grenade to pop a shield and riding the explosion shockwave up to the scifi quad-copter that's firing missiles down at you the entire time. Its a beautifully chaotic mess that relies on your mastery of the game's movement to be proficient in. Sure you could just run around Call of Duty style and pop cyborgs in the head, or you could send them into the endless abyss by slapping them with two and a half feet of hoverboard all the while sending a .50 cal round through two of his friends.

It is a joy to experience. The exploration is always rewarding leading you to new challenges that give you either new perks, a new gun, or a fun hat to wear over your character. If you played the dev team's previous game, Severed Steel, you know exactly how high energy and impressive the combat encounters can feel.

Story:

Honestly? It's nothing special. You crash land onto one of the many floating islands, a mysterious voice tells you to get your gear as comrades from whatever scientific group you're a part of tell you to also grab your gear and survey your surroundings. It's VERY loose, and it's perfect that way. The boss fight set pieces don't come bogged down with lengthy cutscenes or anything at all to break the pacing. Voice acting is kept to enemy shoutouts, and everything is told through text logs that you're guided to pretty steadily throughout the game. EPN's story is just what it needs to be and the devs know that. Severed Steel boasted an equally loose but compelling story following the game's protagonist rising up against her scifi imprisoners, and Echo Point Nova is just as short and sweet with its writing. Serviceable, short, and just right.

youtube

Soundtrack:

How could I ever talk about this game without mentioning the positively electrifying soundtrack. Composed by artist Floating Door the OST has a range of action driving Drum and Bass tracks that just make you want to go faster. Ethereal synths combined with strong pulsing bass tracks create an otherworldly feel as you grapple and hoverboard your way around the islands, picking up into heavier more chaotic tracks when enemies are found or an encounter is started. It reminds me so much of the more techno/trance inspired soundtracks of later PS1 and PS2 titles that I can't help but grin and nod my head as I zip around blasting things with an RPG. No notes, 10/10, it fits the game beautifully and is a strong set of tracks to listen to on their own. Give it a listen!

Conclusion and comments:

I got away from myself a little bit in this review, but I'd like to close by doubling back to that Tribes comparison. Does Echo Point Nova have EVERYTHING that tribes had? No. It's missing things like vehicles, structured modes of play, hell even proper PVP matchmaking, but that's not the point. The spirit is what lives on in EPN. That 2000s fast paced techno-shooter with weird movement and momentum. The rush of a movement shooter before that phrase was even considered to exist. I don't think this game is Titanfall+DOOM 2016 like a lot of other reviews like to say. What I WILL compare it to if I must, is Halo, Tribes, and just a hint of classic Call of Duty (think COD 4). It's wonderfully made with a clear amount of love and respect for old school shooters. Refined to a razor edge of fluid mobility and rock solid shooting. I really do think its a big step towards keeping the spirit of old games alive without just remaking them or making things that only exist as tributes to them. If I've gotten anything wrong, and the devs never played anything like Tribes before, then that's fine I've been wrong before and I will be again. But playing this game was like playing a love letter written in voxel landscapes and high speed firefights. One that I'd happily reread over and over, or at least listen to the music.

Check out Echo Point Nova here:

#article #my stuff #my writing #video games #writing #indie games #echo point nova #game review #review #Youtube

11 notes · View notes

cerastes · 3 months ago

Text

twitch_live

[Arknights - CO-OP] Iron and Dreamer's FACEBreaker Games

@ironrings and I are going to become Number 1 champions in the Icebreaker Games with our immense friendship and these child soldiers we produced from the basement!

We're live! Hop in!

#dreamerwave #ironrings

10 notes · View notes

yellowocaballero · 29 days ago

Note

Itwau? Covid puppy Tim just sounds very funny to me lol

"AU where Tim was quarantined in a radioactive house with the least functional family of all time and he's released into the wild three years later incredibly under socialized and dysfunctional" is, in fact, the premise.

I'm so vauguely unhappy with the fic that I refuse to post it. But also it's not straight up bad. But also I'm worried that it doesn't do justice to Cass, and doing justice to Cass is important to me. But also isn't any predominant Cass good. But also blah blah blah have a scene.

Short scene, and a CW for references to a sexual relationship between a minor and an adult. And an apology to Tim/Bernard shippers. The scene's a good summary of everyone's dysfunction, I think.

A rock collided with the window.

Tim’s aim was true, as always. He shifted his balance on the withered tree branch, mindful of its tired creak, before flicking another pebble and hitting the glass panel again. The sharp thunk was clear in the mild night, and Tim only had to wait another minute before a face appeared in the window. Tim waved. The face grinned.

The carefully maintained window slid upwards, and Tim easily hopped off the branch to land on the windowsill and slide inside. The boy inside had already stepped away, locking the bedroom door and fixing the deadbolt.

“They home?”

“Mom’s on nightshift and Dad’s out with his friends again.” Bernard turned back to Tim and smiled at him. ‘Out with his friends’ meant he was getting drunk and wouldn’t be back ‘til morning, but that hadn’t bothered Bernard in a while. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Tim stepped forward and kissed him eagerly, and after a half-second Bernard kissed back. It was a comforting and familiar kiss, and after so long it was definitely Tim’s favorite. “It’s so good to see you.”

Bernard gave him another kiss before stepping back, yanking some old clothing off his desk chair and stuffing it in the laundry tote. Tim shut the window and started taking off his mask, the buzzing energy in his limbs already melting away. Cass was expecting him back at three in the morning, so that gave him three hours here. More than he needed, probably, but it was never bad to surprise Cass by coming back early.

“How was your day at school?” Bernard asked archly, and Tim rolled his eyes. “Did you make the soccer team? How did the math test go?”

“How do your math tests go?” Tim asked pointedly, and Bernard abruptly looked a little guilty. “Right. Who cares, honestly. It’s not like you’re ever going to use the stuff.” Left unsaid: or ninety percent of what you’re learning in that weird little schooling co-op you attend, you freak.

“I will be loved for my pretty face, not my brains,” Bernard drawled, sitting down in his desk chair. Tim sat on the bed and pressed the secret button on his boots, letting them deflate and yanking them off. “I shall marry a powerful enforcer for the Penguin and live the rest of my life awash in chocolate and weed.”

“Will you still remember me when you’re rich and powerful?” Tim panned. He started unbuckling his tunic, undoing the golden arrow-shaped clasps running down the center. “The little girl next door?”

“You are anything but the girl next door.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Tim smirked a little, letting his hair fall over his face in the motion he knew Bernard liked to see. “You’re already fucking a territory boss, Bernard, it’s hard to go up from here.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Bernard laughed a little, short and sharp. “That’s still so wild. Only fifteen and you’re already a gang leader. You’re, like, one of the fifteen most powerful people in Gotham.”

“Sure am. Let me know if your parents need another job or anything. I don’t got a lot of employees, but I can find something for ‘em.” Tim brightened. “If you guys ever need to run into protected territory you know I’m right next door! You’d be the safest teenager outside of the Garden.”

“That’s - really nice of you, Tim. Thanks.” Bernard caught Tim’s thrown tunic, putting it on the desk behind him. His eyes lingered on the dull R, but he quickly shoved it away. “We’re doing okay, though. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I’ll find out.”

“Fantastic things to hear. I love it.”

Tim grinned at him, shucking his gloves and carefully tossing them at Bernard so he could put them next to the tunic. “You know what to expect from me.”

“Lord help me, I definitely do.” Bernard held the gloves, finger rubbing against a ridged green thumb. His posture was stiff. Tense. He was nervous. Tim stopped undressing. “Look, I -”

“Quiet.”

Bernard fell silent instantly. Also suspicious. Bernard was one of the more contrary people Tim had ever met, and he knew Helena. Tim stood up, silently walking towards the window and sliding the panel open so he could sit on the windowsill and check the surroundings. Nobody out there. It was the only window in the bedroom, so Tim was forced to close it. He spot-checked the rest of the room, finding nothing out of ordinary.

Long-suffering, Bernard said, “Tim. Why are you looking for an ambush?”

“You’re nervous,” Tim said bluntly. Bernard opened his mouth indignantly. “You would break if your parents were kidnapped.”

“I - yeah, fair.” Bernard paused, clearly debating with himself, before saying something he was clearly fairly certain he’d regret. “What did your other ambushes look like?”

“Somebody planted intel of a human trafficking ring in a brothel,” Tim said. He undid the locks on the door and poked his head out into the hallway, just to be sure. “There were trafficking victims. But there were also several pounds of explosives.”

“Yikes. Everybody make it out of that one alright?”

“Yeah, we always check over the premises of a tip like that. If the story involves starving babies being cooked into stews it’s a dead giveaway for a trap.” Tim closed and re-locked the door. Bernard opened his mouth again. “Do you really want to ask that question?”

“...point!”

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” Tim walked over and leaned against Bernard’s desk, crossing his arms and grinning down at him. The cool look was slightly hampered by the wobbly leg. He’d have to offer to repair that. “The Upper West Side doesn’t see the worst of it. Don’t do anything stupid and you should be okay. And you get in any trouble just call me.”

Bernard smiled weakly. He grabbed Tim’s hand and squeezed, and Tim squeezed back. Tim wondered when would be a good time to start undressing him. Three hours was enough, but they should probably start. “It’s weird thinking about how crazy fucking lucky I am. My mom has a job with that laundry group and my dad just got that reconstruction job for the cops.” Tim did not like the cops as much as the cops liked the cops, but Gordon kept them in check. “We still live in our house. I got my own job at the orchard. The co-op and my friend and stuff. I got you. Couldn’t have imagined this three years ago.”

Three years ago Bernard and his family lived like anybody else - hiding from looters and scavenging for FEMA aid. “There’s more and more families like yours in Gotham every day,” Tim said. The thought made his heart feel lighter. As Robin, he saw the change grow and grow. It was amazing to watch. “Just watch, Bernard. One day soon everybody’s going to have a job. Everybody’s going to have food on the table. Gotham’s getting better. Isn’t it fucking wild?”

“I feel like a person again,” Bernard said. “We were living like fucking animals for ages and now I feel like a human person. Shit, Tim, I know you see the worst of the worst nonstop. Maybe one day soon you won’t have to see grotesque shit every day.”

“Maybe one day soon I’ll stop having to punch the grotesque in the face,” Tim said lightly. “Speaking of the grotesque, hurry up and strip for me.”

Bernard froze, and Tim knew why he had been anxious and tense since Tim stepped into his room.

“Ah,” Tim said.

Hurriedly, as if he wasn’t already far too late, Bernard said, “Can we talk?”

Tim stared at him, and he knew the weight had returned to his expression. Bernard’s eyes anxiously flickered around the room before focusing in on Tim, steady and alert in an intimately familiar way.

Bernard was a confident person. He probably used to be fearless. Tim wouldn’t know. Nobody was fearless in Gotham anymore, and more than anything Bernard was a very, very smart person. It was just good sense to be careful with the apprentice of the most dangerous person in Gotham. And, these days, a gang leader.

Tim had been dangerous when they first met, even at fourteen. He had been nicer back then, but Bernard hadn’t been stupider. It had been a risk. Hero had begun to fit strangely on Batman.

But they had been two very smart, very curious boys with little adult supervision. Having sex with Robin did incredible things to Bernard’s already considerable ego and Tim liked being cool and hot to somebody as cool and hot as Bernard.

Bernard had often bemoaned how he was fucking actual Robin and he couldn’t even tell anybody. He was so cool and sexy he had bagged actual Robin, and yet he would never rule the school. Tim had laughed and swatted him with a pillow.

The thought of anybody wanting to brag over being with Tim, that scrawny nerd Tim Drake with no friends and nothing interesting about him…life had gone crazy in every way.

They had always limited it to Tim sneaking into his bedroom in the middle of the night. He had never even been downstairs. Tim had been excruciatingly clear that they were casual, Bernard had felt extremely adult at the concept of casual sex, and they both had a regular hook-up ever since. Tim just dropped by whenever he was anxious, stressed, wired, or bored. He really hoped Bernard hadn’t caught feelings. He wasn’t so sure. Cass had never met him, so he couldn’t ask. Tim didn’t go into detail about Robin stuff, and Bernard didn’t go into detail trying to satisfy his insatiable curiosity about his dubiously ethical missions.

Bernard had only brought up a rumor once. The Jokerz in Amusement Mile had grown far too rowdy, and some of the leaders were making noises about taking the territory from Harley and returning it to ‘the real mad lads!’. Harley had asked Tim and Cass to come in and help definitively destroy the burgeoning coup before it began.

Destroying coups obviously involved a lot more than beating up the rabble rousers and calling it a day. It was really a fear based endeavor. You had to stop anybody from even dreaming of crossing you again. Harley had done most of the work, but Tim and Cass played back-up. They weren’t Batman, but they definitely had their own cred on their own merits.

Tim had just waved off his concerns. “You know way better than to listen to the Batman rumors, man. Just ignore them.”

“Yeah, I know they’re all Batman Morningstar. I was just asking if they’re true.”

“And I was just telling you to ignore them,” Tim had snapped. “Why are you arguing with me?”

That had ended with Tim leaving in a huff and Bernard closing the window in a huff. But Bernard hadn’t asked again, so Tim counted that one a win. Bernard was the most curious person Tim had ever met, a miniature investigative reporter in an uncaring apocalypse, and a part of him was always striving to seek out the truth and ferret out secrets.

Bernard had also grown a survival instinct. He didn’t do that anymore. Even with Tim.

So Tim kept his posture loose and forced his expression into something light and pleasantly neutral. Bernard recognized the mask, but he also recognized the ‘I’m pretending I’m not a dangerous person so you feel safe’ face, and he silently gestured to the bed. Tim slowly sat down, bouncing a little old on the old mattress, and Bernard slowly moved to sit next to him.

Their thighs brushed, but they didn’t look at each other. They sat in silence a little, Bernard wrangling hard with how to say something difficult. Tim really hoped this was just ‘let’s not do this anymore’ and not ‘I jumped inside radioactive waste and I’m going to conquer Gotham’.

Finally, Bernard said, “You remember Sid?”

Thank god. No need to bring out the Hazmat suit.

“The guy in your math group?” Tim asked. To his own strange surprise, he couldn’t fight the smile. “The reason you failed your test?”

Bernard flushed, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re the one who snuck in the night before we had it!”

“Yes, I’m so sorry I disrespected the sanctity of your math club to have fantastic sex with you. It’s all my fault. Nothing to do with the guy who had sex with you of undetermined quality during your math club.”

“It’s not a club, it’s a co-op - oh, never mind.” Bernard had visibly relaxed, and Tim gave himself a mental pat on the back. He saw Bernard mentally cross out ‘Robin’s gonna go into a jealous rage’ on his list of potential conversation outcomes. “We’re just getting…I don’t know. I like him a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I haven’t met anybody as nice as him in years. I’ve started volunteering at the soup kitchen with him, he’s been teaching me how to make tamales. He’s useless with art, but he keeps on borrowing my art supplies to draw trees. Terribly. He sucks.”

They had been going on dates? He hadn’t mentioned that. “I thought you guys were casual too.”

“It started out that way. But we just saw each other in class so much, and he’d always insist on walking me home the entire way. It was so corny. And…I don’t know, Tim. I just didn’t want something casual anymore. We had a connection. So he asked if we could get more serious. And I said yeah.” Bernard shrugged, rubbing his shoulder. He ripped it open on a barbed wire spike two years ago, and it hadn’t healed right. Tim gave him small back massages sometimes to loosen it up. “He says that he wants to be monogamous and just focus on each other. I want that too. So we both agreed to stop seeing our other guys. So I guess what I’m saying is - it’s really not personal Tim, I swear, it’s just - like, the shape of my life right now -”

“Dude,” Tim said. “I’m so fucking happy for you.”

Bernard sagged, all of the tension drained from his body. “Thank god.”

“What, did you want me to start crying?” Fat chance of that. Bernard grimaced. He had obviously been worried about that and a lot more. “You’re an awesome lay and I’ll miss being with you a lot. But that’s not worth ruining the good thing you have going on right now. You deserve to be happy. If monogamy is what’s making you happy right now, then go for it.”

“You are taking this super well,” Bernard said, almost incredulous. “We’ve been seeing each other for a year and a half, dude. It’d be pretty normal to be upset.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim asked. “I said a billion times that we were casual, Bernard.”

“I’m aware, but casual doesn’t mean we don’t give a shit about each other.”

“Of course I give a shit about you. That’s why I’m really glad you’re happy.” Tim clapped Bernard on the shoulder and stood up, moving to grab his left glove. “I liked sleeping with you because you’re a good guy and a lot of fun. But you know I really just sleep with people for fun, Bernard.”

Benard’s mouth twisted. “Fun’s one word for it.”

“Stress relief,” Tim amended. “And there’s plenty of people in Gotham I can relieve stress with. I got, like, four on the regular.”

“What, including the twenty year old?”

“You have some sort of vendetta against Ruby and it’s very rude.”

“She’s twenty, she needs to get someone her own age.”

“It’s really none of your business. So come on, tell me more about Sid. Amusement Mile’s actually pretty great for date night these days.”

“You’re insane.”

Tim shoved his uniform on as Bernard told him more about Sid. They were pretty sickening. Tim could tell that they would only get worse. Monogamy was out of fashion among kids these days, which caused some pretty spectacular juvenile drama. Tim was more familiar with the Garden’s culture than the greater Gotham teen culture, but the Garden’s queer scene was pretty dire. All the gay people had already slept with each other and battle lines had been drawn.

Truthfully, some part of Tim had always worried. He knew distantly that he had started kind of young, and that he put very little of himself into any of his partners. They were all short-term. But he knew he had taken Bernard’s virginity, and that Bernard was the person he kept coming back to, and he didn’t want his weird-ass sex life to conflict with Bernard’s normal life. His normal happiness, as much as any of them could possibly scrape together happiness from nothing. He thought he might have ruined him. That, at least, was a relief.

“Tim.”

Tim finished sliding up the window panel, turning around. Bernard stood in front of him, uncertain and anxious and sad. As gorgeous as ever. Thin, without muscle or hard edges. Big eyes and sure hands. He had been so awkward as a kid, but had more than made up for it with enthusiasm. He had been warm.

“Are you ever going to find somebody too?” Bernard asked. “I mean - are you ever going to let yourself?”

“I’m Robin, dude. Ninety five percent of my time is spent doing Robin shit.” Tim sat down on the window frame, swinging his legs outside the house. “My life isn’t schools and friends and boys. So you have fun for both of us, okay?”

Bernard crossed his arms, mouth twisting. “I want to ask if we can still be friends, or if we can still meet up after this and do normal teen boy shit. But I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that one.”

“If you ever need help, page me,” Tim said. “I’ll come running.”

He disappeared in a swish of cape, and after a few seconds he heard Bernard sigh and close the window after him.

Tim sat down against the wall of Bernard’s house, hiding in the darkness obscuring him from view. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his forehead on his kneecaps, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Tim sat like that until the moment had passed - unmoving and silent. He didn’t cry. He didn’t even think much. He just sat there, curling into himself.

Then he stood up and left, roaring his bike engine a little louder than necessary and ripping away from the battered street.

The drive home was longer than usual. Batman was waist deep in a case that was proving to be a massive pain in the ass, so he had called in all of them to help. Now it was everybody’s pain in the ass. Cass and Tim had been running ragged on Batman’s heels for the past two days, so they had crashed in the Clocktower for the night. Stumbling home from a long night out and falling into the king sized bed with Cass in their shared room on the fifth floor was sweetly nostalgic, and Tim had been sleeping easy the past two nights. Diamond District was theirs, but it just wasn’t familiar like the Clocktower was.

Tim pulled into the garage at 1:30am, far before his promised return time. Cass would be happy. He already sorely missed her, even after less than two hours away. He needed a hug. Or sister cuddles, which sometimes were sweet and sometimes involved her lying on him and refusing to move. Fuck, he’d even take that right now.

For the first time in a while Tim wished desperately that Cass was not privy to every single thought and emotion he had. He didn’t want to share this with her, but there was really no way around it. She wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t want her to, but she would still know. Best they could do.

He dragged himself into the lobby of the Clocktower, which was the one floor that had rooms and objects for real people who actually used the Clocktower for things that were not fighting crime. Barbara had, obviously, ripped it all up and replaced it with servers. They used the ground floor above the garage as the storage space for their heavier and more durable supplies, such as replacement parts for the cars. It was also where they kept the brig. Don’t ask.

The lobby boasted a leftover reception desk, made of thin wood with a cracked marble top that had seen better days. Old rolling chairs were pulled against the sides, and the desktop was cleared of everything but cigarette butts and ashes - Helena wasn’t allowed to smoke inside. There was normally nobody sitting on the rolling chair. Today, there was Batman.

Tim stopped short. It wasn’t Batman - it was Bruce, wearing sleep pants and a tattered shirt. Sandals, for the consistent potential tetanus. Tim had barely a few seconds to notice that Bruce looked tired before he saw Tim’s entry, and the deep-set exhaustion settled into a glower.

“Tim!” Bruce barked, and Tim’s spine snapped ramrod straight. “Where have you been?”

What the hell? What was this? “Out?” Tim cried, beyond baffled. “Did something happen? Did I miss a rendezvous?”

“A rendez - Tim, you and Cassandra said you were retiring for the night two hours ago. I expected to find you in bed, not gone. Where were you?”

Holy shit. He couldn’t be serious. Tim couldn’t believe this. It strained his mind, like a weak computer trying to run one of Oracle’s three disc programs.

“Okay,” Tim said slowly, “back up. You said we were off duty from the mission for the night. I didn’t fail to update you on anything.”

Bruce’s lip ticked backwards. “On mission or off, I expect you to be where you said you would be. And not sneaking out.”

Automatically, Tim said, “What makes you think I was sneaking out?”

“You deactivated the motion sensors, security cameras, and perimeter silent alerts. You also took the old suit without the tracker.”

Oh. Right. Yeah. That one was pure habit. He had been kind of guilty about this at first. “If my movements are off the field they don’t need to be logged.”

“Why don’t you want them logged,” Bruce said flatly.

“Why do you need them logged?”

“You were not where you said you would be and I couldn’t find you leaving on the cameras. If it wasn’t for Cassandra I would have worried that you were abducted.”

“There you go. Cass knew I was fine.” Abducted? From the Clocktower’s security system, with Cass right there? That was a completely irrational fear. “I wasn’t off the grid.”

“She wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

Right. Tim had sworn her to secrecy about this years ago. She had promised to keep it even from Bruce, but that had never been put to the test before. Man, she was brave. He’d have to find her a pastry.

“That’s because I was on personal business. She told you I was fine, right?” Bruce’s lips thinned. “Then I was fine. I’m sorry, Bruce, can I be excused? Nothing I did tonight was mission relevant, so I can’t see where I broke any rules.”

“Broke any -” Bruce halted hard, mouth twisting strangely. “Right. I never gave you two a curfew.”

What the fuck. “We have work at any hour of the night.”

“I am well aware. Tim, I -”

Bruce stopped short. He blinked hard at Tim. Tim tried to see if he could make a break for it or if he had to deal with being pointlessly reamed out for the next hour.

Somewhat strangled, Bruce said, “You’re wearing your tunic improperly. Your boots are fixed unevenly. Your left glove is unlatched. Cassandra refused to tell me where you were.”

Ah. Shit. Tim didn’t blink. Lying was a terrible idea, so he stayed silent. It was important to take the time to compose the proper rhetoric.

Slowly, as if he couldn’t believe the words he was saying, Bruce said, “Tim, were you with a girl?”

“Not during mission hours.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend during mission hours,” Tim said. Or at all, but Bruce would perceive a flat denial as a lie. “I was not obligated to report this to you and I was not obligated to log my off-duty movements. I did not do anything wrong and I would like to be excused.”

Bruce stiffened, and Tim stiffened too. It was the oddest sort of Mexican standoff, one with uncertain weapons and an unknown result. The analytical part of Tim’s mind worked overtime to puzzle out how to get Bruce to leave him alone and get out of this. He had to figure out how Bruce was thinking and attack the train of thought directly. Through applying the art of misdirection, he could -

“I am not a punch clock, Tim,” Bruce said shortly, and Tim halted. “You aren’t allowed to do whatever you want, even if it’s outside of the Mission. I expect you to behave like an upright young man. Not sneaking out in the middle of…” Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why even hide this from me? I’ve never prevented Robin from having friends or partners in his civilian identity.”

Bernard had not been in his civilian identity. Whatsoever. Information that did not have to be shared.

“Taking off my mask is not a civilian identity. I don’t have a civilian identity. Where would I even find the time, Bruce? We get one day off a month and we work fourteen hour days. You already control how I spend fourteen hours of my day, and now you want me to log and document my two hours of free time a day? You should have specified.”

“That’s not the point,” Bruce said, and Tim could hear the frustration in his voice. He should probably back off and back down - just agree and apologize and be done with it - but it just wasn’t in him today. His head was pounding with exhaustion and his heart still hurt. “Omitting information is different from hiding it from me. I am only asking why you went through such great effort to hide something as simple as a girlfriend from me.”

It wasn’t a girlfriend. Bernard was not his girlfriend. None of them had ever been girlfriends, not even the actual women. The only permanent relationship he needed in his life was Cass, and everything else was stress relief. Or stressful, if it was the rest of the ‘family’.

He hated this picture Bruce painted. What must it have looked like to him? Was there some meet-cute during an undercover mission where Tim bumped into a redhead passionate about literature? Did they go for walks in the park, make tamales together? Did he tell her that he loved her, but they just couldn’t be together?

It was sickening. It was wrong. It had been Dick and Jason’s. Tim knew that was the picture summoned in his mind right now: Dick’s teenage flings, Jason’s juvenile middle school romances.

What had that looked like for them? Had they sat around the dinner table, eating steak and potatoes talking about Dick’s day in Gotham Academy? Had Dick excused himself early, claiming that he was hanging out with Jennifer or Bailey or Heather? Had Bruce given him that extinct smile and asked - so Jennifer/Bailey/Heather, huh? You been seeing a lot of her, haven’t you? And Dick would stammer and pretend to be late and run out of the room, and maybe Bruce had laughed at him.

Jason would have told him. He would have burst into Bruce’s study where he was doing taxes or some ridiculous crap, announcing that he had gotten a date! With a girl, obviously, no homosexuality in this apple pie world. And Bruce would have clapped him on the shoulder and said something about how he was a man now or some utterly asinine bullshit like that.

Did Bruce think that was the situation? The idea itself was insulting. Batman wasn’t delusional. He was practical and grounded. He always considered all of the factors and made the decision that guaranteed the best outcome. He didn’t let pathetic fantasies control his behavior like this. Bruce wasn’t acting like Batman.

Why did the thought flush such sick rage through Tim? It made red climb in at the corners of his vision, sending every inch of his skin buzzing. Bruce was supposed to act like Batman. Bruce was Batman. Everything Bruce did was the right thing to do because it was Batman doing it. And when Bruce strayed from that - forgot Batman like this - then Tim always pulled him back on the right path. It was always an accident, a slip of control. It had never been on purpose like this.

It was weak. It was weakness. Standing in a ruined Gotham, fucking daydreaming about Dick and Jason and mansions and schools and boyfriends and dates and connection and - while Tim was out in the real world, sacrificing for the real world. Hypocrisy. It was sheer hypocrisy.

Tim lost his grip.

“I only tell you about the mission because that’s all you’ve ever fucking cared about!” Tim yelled. “I tried telling you about my life when I was a little kid and you shut me down every damn time! If I say it’s none of your goddamn business then it’s because you told me that! I always listen to you, I always do what you want, so don’t give me the third degree when I do exactly what you’ve trained me to do!”

Bruce completely shut down. His face blanked out, a weight settling onto his features. He stepped forward and Tim stood still, forcing himself not to tense.

The sick anger flipped instantly into something else, just as powerful and nauseating. His eyes darted to the exit before he forced himself to keep them on Bruce.

It was natural. It was smart. Tim was confident, but he wasn’t fearless. He had never told Bernard that he understood how he felt. Sometimes he wondered if Bernard had known anyway. It was just the structure of their world, it was nobody’s fault. Bernard even felt it a few hours earlier, and god knew Tim had worked triple time to make sure he wasn’t rough with him. Bernard had noticed and appreciated the effort. Bruce never made the effort. Tim wasn’t sure if he had never noticed or if he just didn’t care. Or if it was the point.

“You do not talk to me like that.” It wasn’t a threat or a command. He said it with the utter expectation that it would become true. “I expect you to act respectfully, Tim.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you only have any respect for me as your mission command, then that’s your prerogative. We won’t have this conversation you find so useless again. But if you ever hide anything from me again, no matter how irrelevant it is to our relationship, you will be acting against the interests of the organization. Do you understand?”

You did not want to act against the interests of the organization. You did not.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually understand anything I’m saying or if you are just trying to make me shut up.” Tim flinched hard, but Bruce just sighed. “Forget it. It’s in one ear and out the other with you. I can’t…just do what I say, Tim.”

“Yes, sir.” He worked hard to bite down on the words leaping to his tongue, but he had lost all ability to restrain them. “So do you want daily logs of my sex life or can they be weekly?”

Then Bruce’s expression really darkened, and Tim wasted no time in scampering off and taking the rickety freight elevator to his old bedroom.

Cass was still awake, obviously. She was lying on their old bed, all of the lights on and playing the GameBoy. They had liberated a large cache of batteries from the Penguin, so they were booting up the GameBoys with abandon. When Tim walked in and flopped on the bed next to her he saw that she was playing Pokemon Blue again. It was kind of impressive that she had figured out how to play with a barely kindergarten reading level, but she could memorize the words and what they did well enough. Amazingly, the skills were transferring to real life. She could navigate some of the higher level children’s books now. She was so cool.

She looked up from her game, looking towards him. Tim watched her register it, all of it - Bernard and Bruce and moments obscured by shadows. She dropped the game and immediately pulled Tim into a hug, and Tim clutched onto her for dear life.

Tim buried his face into her shoulder. “I just need you. Right?”

And Cass had heard him say the words verbally so many times before that she understood completely. She tapped the base of his spine twice with one knuckle. Yes.

“You’re enough,” Tim said, because she fucking had to be. Because he had no other choice. Because she promised to protect him and keep him safe. Because she loved him and would stay, and that was all Tim needed. “This is enough.”

#theyre............a mess..........#my writing #my asks

15 notes · View notes