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#i forgot how time consuming comics were

thewertsearch · 7 days

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>WV: Search for power source. You ate that delicious green nuclear rock earlier in the day, even though it feels like it was more than a year ago.

WV seems completely immune to radiation, which is a lucky break for him.

It's also a weird trait for Sburb to give its NPCs, but I guess it makes sense when you remember they're supposed to explore post-apocalyptic worlds.

Guess there's nothing to do but wait it out.

Lmao. I…. guess that’s a plan?

The problem isn't getting the uranium, it's using it. I didn't spot any convenient Mr. Fission reactor to toss it into, so I don't know what he's supposed to do with the thing once he has it.

He is so impatient. Doesn't he realize how time consuming it is preparing for the holidays? […] Wait… you almost forgot, it's still April, and nowhere near the holiday season. You guess all this wintry weather tricked you into thinking it was. But wait! Even THAT doesn't make any sense, since it never snowed on your island, and you were never able to connect it with the holiday season! […]

Sorry Hussie, there's no way to make this make sense – but I don't care, and neither do you. We’re long overdue for Jade’s alchemy session, so Christmas in April it is.

Karkat cannot be conveyed with a more detailed portrait yet. He is too angry, and is forced to look like shit.

This should have been Karkat's first appearance in the comic.

Hell yes.

Does it have a jpegifying aura, like the SORD.....? Maybe it turns the presents left underneath it into jpegs themselves.

TG: yes perfect GG: it is the prettiest tree i have ever seen!!!!! TG: ok im going to torrent you another like negative billion artifact grists GG: ok great! GG: everything about that makes total sense

The funniest thing about this is that we already know Jade's a talented artist - and therefore, the only logical explanation for these abominations is that Dave's been tutoring her.

GG: is this conksucky enough TG: its the conksuckiest piece of fucking shit that ever still somehow qualified as a boot GG: <3

I was right! She's an apprentice SBaHJist!

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s105 #3138

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tired-biscuit · 2 years

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Happy Birthday

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka/fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni // modern au, intoxication, unhealthy amount of tension, edging. reader is naruto uzumaki's younger sister.

Word count: 11.5k

Summary: Kiba invites you to his 22nd birthday party. Stuff happens.

a/n: nobody asked for this, but here i am; posting this one-shot in honour of the birthday boy.

HAD this all been a mistake?

As you feel the bitter burn of yet another consumed shot seep its way down your throat, you can't say for sure.

Placing the tiny glass back upon the kitchen counter, your expression twists into one of pure disgust when the heat settles into the pit of your stomach.

You've forgotten just how bad vodka tastes on its own, lacking the sweet tang of Red Bull or juice. The reminder is semi-welcomed, you suppose.

The broad palm to land upon your shoulder blade in that moment is warm as it pats you encouragingly one, two; three times.

You suck in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, swallowing the runny saliva that's only there because of the damn vodka, before a bright red solo cup is shoved right into your hands.

Your eyes narrow as you look up at the tall, handsome brunet which you've had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing ever since you were little.

Unbeknownst to many, Kiba has been terrorizing your life for as long as you can remember. Adorning nearly every picture in your family photo album with that tan, freckled face of his, the ebullient Inuzuka had met your big brother on his first day of preschool, and stuck by his side from that moment onward.

Since Kiba is Naruto's best friend, it's no wonder how most of the memories you have of your childhood include him.

Only two years younger than the two boys, you grew up alongside both Naruto and Kiba; building sandcastles on the beach together whenever you went on vacation, playing hide and seek, as well as every other game you could possibly come up with off the top of your tiny heads and which made you constantly end up in trouble together.

Kiba - always the rather boisterous and rowdy kid, much like your big brother - had been more or less invariably nice to you throughout all those years.

Until he abruptly wasn't.

After all, as soon as the Inuzuka turned eight, he had started getting mean; towards you, specifically. Constantly tugging on your pigtails and taunting you for how you acted and spoke, Kiba had made you cry and tell on him to your mother on several occasions.

Crying big, fat tears, you never quite understood why she only chuckled at your childish complaints back then. Why Tsume, Kiba's own mother, had had the exact same reaction, too. Why Naruto agreed with everything he said like the traitorous older brother he was, and got fussy all of a sudden if you wanted to play with them like you always did.

You stopped trying to fit in amongst the two rowdy boys at some point, and instead focused on your own hobbies.

So, years passed. You grew up into a sweet girl, who eventually found friends of her own, and forgot all about stupid, idiotic Kiba who teased you until you cried, despite that he swung by nearly every other day.

That is, until he went to visit his dad one summer when you were thirteen. That year, Kiba came back tall and lean; with his limbs almost comically long, as well as accompanied with a deep voice that made you burst out with laughter whenever it cracked into a higher pitch mid-sentence.

You still quarelled in the same way you used to when you were little, but this time without your tearful complaints to your mother.

He told you all about how his summer went, how his dad was pretty okay whenever he wished to be, and how his older sister Hana had stepped on a sea urchin and had to be rushed to the hospital, where he laughed his ass off as she groaned with every pluck of the doctor's tweezers.

But then that summer came to an end, as all things do, and Kiba started high school along with Naruto, and you were forgotten once again because of other, new friends and experiences that interested him as a proper teenager, and that certainly had nothing to do with thirteen-year-old you.

By the time you became a freshman yourself, he was already seventeen and a junior. Much to your beffudlement, Kiba had started acting weird around you at that age, mostly turning an ignorant eye towards your direction and barely speaking to you at all, which had most definitely been way out of his usually outgoing personality.

He stared at you only when you weren't looking. Asked Naruto about how you were doing, but never once voiced the question directly to you. The entire ordeal only made you grow further apart.

You never questioned him about it; well at least not truly, anyway. It wasn't like you actually cared about what someone as silly as Kiba thought of you, after all.

And then all of a sudden said boy was a senior finishing high school, getting ready to begin living yet another chapter of his life. He got a sports scholarship and left town for college without ever saying goodbye, much like your own brother. He left you behind, just like that. They both did.

It seemed that university life was a blast for an open, untamed person like Kiba, at least judging from the pictures he posted on his Instagram. From eighteen to twenty-one, you mostly saw him transfigure from a boy to a man over the screen of your phone - barely interacting with him at all, if it weren't for the rare exception whenever he liked the selfie you occasionally posted, was asking for Naruto, or if he dropped by the house to say hi to your parents during the summer.

So, to say that you were absolutely flabbergasted when you received a random text from him one night, inviting you to his 22nd birthday party would be an understatement.

Even Naruto seemed surprised when you asked if Kiba had possibly made a mistake. Had turned slightly suspicious, too, as you skipped down the stairs way more dolled up than usual on the night of the party, staring up at him with slightly anxious eyes.

"It's just Kiba," your brother tells you, eyeing the pretty skirt and top you've decided on tonight, "so, why are you all dressed up?"

"Who said it was for him?" you reply with an eye roll, despite that there's an inexplicable bounce to your step as you leave the house.

And that was that, as well as the reason how you find yourself staring at a freshly turned twenty-two-year-old Kiba, the golden amber within his irises recoiling whenever your gazes meet inside his dimly-lit kitchen.

You have no idea how he has managed to hunt you down amongst the mass of people to fill every room of his house, but the honey-like shade nearly glows with overt amusement when he smiles down at you after he's successfully persuaded you into sharing a third round of double shots with him.

Let's be honest, it's not like it took him a lot of effort. It's his birthday, after all. And the birthday boy gets what he wants!

Meanwhile, Kiba, who is feverishly determined and drunk just enough to finally shoot his shot with the girl that's been off limits to him for fucking aeons, is putting his best effort in making that statement true.

He knows what he's attempting to do is supposedly wrong as he keeps poking and prodding at you to see how you play - knows it darn well, but after literal years of loyalty and restraint, he's allowed to go behind his best friend's back just this once, right?

Sure, Naruto will unleash hell and fury upon him if he finds out, but...

I mean, come on! You're old enough to make your own decisions in life. He's tired of only liking your cute selfies and never sliding into your DMs, because Naruto gets upset everytime he sees him double-tap the damn posts. It's his birthday, for crying out loud!

And it's not just any birthday. This year, Kiba has finally allowed himself to wish for you; hence why you're here in the first place.

So, it's the fact that it's just you and him inside the little kitchen that matters most to him, no matter that you're surrounded by other individuals who he can't bring himself to care about in that moment. Honestly, with so many people around, Kiba is slightly surprised that he's the only one you seem to endure the company of tonight.

After all, he had waited for an hour or so before leaving his friends to go look for you instead, giving you plenty of time to mingle. When he at long last found you behind the kitchen counter, mixing yourself a drink, completely alone and not talking to anybody, it was like yet another birthday present amongst many.

The realization that you're actually standing in front of him and he's seeing you properly after years of nothing is making his heart feel all kinds of weird. He's been crushing on you ever since he was a little kid, but that's long gone.

He's a man now - a man that's still undeniably crushing on you, but still...

All he has left to do as an infatuated man, now; is to score. It's a parlous task, however Kiba is willing to take the risk.

He's thought long and hard about this. Has taken safety precautions. The people he invited have no fucking clue who you are, or are far too intoxicated and high to remember whose baby sister exactly he's beginning to hit on. The sister, mind you, whose annoyingly protective older brother is nowhere to be seen, because Kiba had made sure to invite his friend Hinata from college, so that she'd keep the damn cockblocker busy while he kicks up the charm.

But you don't know anything about his wicked plan. You just see his smile, and assume he's being nice to you because a circuit inside that little, male brain of his must have glitched, or whatever.

He's telling you something, but you can barely hear him over the booming music and equally as loud chatter. The brown-haired Inuzuka seems to own an entire army of friends, however is that really a surprise, considering how damn affable he is?

His mouth moves in the most peculiar way when he grins, upper lip pink and plump as it pulls back on his teeth; as well as slightly glossy from the shot he's just finished. The two incisors he owns are way sharper than whatever you've seen on any other human. They glint in the dim light, causing your pulse to quicken.

"Hey," you hear him drawl seemingly from miles away, "you doin' okay there?"

You feel your nose scrunch up when he snaps his fingers in front of your face all of a sudden. Catching gazes with the fierce amber, you feel like the silliest of fools.

You've successfully zoned out, thinking about his stupid mouth, and Kiba is staring at you now; studying you like you're a goddamn enigma he seems surprisingly eager to solve.

His eyes are enticing just like his mouth. The realization that you've been caught ogling at his lovely smile makes heat radiate through your chest. You swear that you can feel your heart hurting from the sheer and utter embarrassment.

Jittery nerves propel your adrenaline levels, your grip around the cup which you're still holding in your hand, tightening in response.

The tips of your fingers feel somewhat numb from all the alcohol you've indulged yourself in. You're not entirely sure if that's a good thing or not.

"y/n," he says your name, waving a hand in front of your face again.

"Wha-... Sorry, what?" you manage lamely.

The second heatwave of humiliation to hit you in that moment isn't exactly helping in sobering you up, but that's not the plan anyway. It's just annoying that you can't seem to focus.

Kiba snickers at your obvious discomfort, just like he did when he was a kid. "Somebody can't handle their booze?"

The frown you portray is subtle and pouty. "I'm just tired."

"Mhmmm," he hums exaggeratedly, nodding, "of course you are."

You can't believe you used to have a crush on a taunting prick like him. The sigh you loose is exasperated as you point to the solo cup he's just handed you. "What's in this?"

"What?" He quirks one dark brow before leaning in slightly so that he can hear you better.

His cologne invades your nose in an instant. Kiba smells like rain and cedarwood; heavy, balsamic notes that remind you of a forest that's wrapped in a blanket of thick fog and moss, all of it coated in a layer of cool morning dew.

The pleasant scent titillates your senses to the point where it makes you want to cling onto the white t-shirt he's wearing, so that you'd be able to bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Pause. It's Kiba we're talking about here. Idiot Kiba, who forgot to tie his shoes before he went on a roller coaster when he was nine, and sent them flying away in the middle of the ride.

Kiba, who chugged milk straight from the carton and laughed so hard it spurted out his nose when you told him how gross he was. Kiba, who kept picking up spiders and other nasty bugs, and then ran after you, threatening you he'll drop them into your hair as you squealed and cried.

The thought of sin that had crossed your mind nearly makes you cringe away from him at the other memories to otherwise flood your brain as if in argument. How embarrassing for you!

Blinking, you instantly hang blame upon the alcohol that's coursing your veins, and obviously clouding your better judgement. He's your brother's best friend, after all - one who you've known since diapers and that's been seen as nothing but a menace in your eyes ever since.

It'd be gross to think like that about Kiba of all people, wouldn't it?

... Wouldn't it?

Partially satisfied with your reasoning, you grumble and curl your fingers around the unbuttoned front of the flannel he's wearing over the white t-shirt, so that you can pull him closer.

He's compliant as he leans in, but what you fail to notice, however, is that his hand rests against the kitchen counter at the tug; trapping you in-between the cool marble and his body. Caging you right in.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to his elbows. You can't help but glance at the defined knuckles and flexible digits. His forearm is tan and covered in dark hair, but you can still see a small fraction of the thin, white scar he's acquired when he fell off his skateboard when he was seven, and that's now hiding underneath the rather familiar forest green, vowen bracelet he's been wearing since forever.

Back then, it would have been either a sprained wrist, or a head-on collision with you when you had swerved in front of him on your little, bright pink rollerblades just as he had picked up speed on the damned board.

Luckily for you; Kiba had chosen the former.

Come to think of it, he always chose you over his own well-being. He fussed about it, of course, but he nonetheless picked your safety first.

You're not entirely sure why you even remember such a thing; even less why it makes your heart flutter. But you're not one to dwell on it.

Stepping onto the tips of your toes, your mouth is right next to his ear as you raise your voice and repeat the question, "I was asking what's in the cup?"

"It's just soda, pipsqueak," Kiba says, the rasp of his voice laced with laughter as he adds, "it'll help in getting rid of the taste of booze that you can't seem to endure."

Both of your brows shoot up in mild astonishment at the blatant taunt. "Excuse me?"

He smiles down at you once more. "What?"

Your eyes dip to his smile again. There you go, staring at his mouth for a second time in the mere span of five minutes. Making him notice. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Your voice shakes slightly as you utter, "Don't you think you're a bit too old to keep teasing me, Kiba?"

"Hmm?" His eyes glimmer with profound mischief when he says, "I always thought you'd be the kind of girl that'd enjoy a little bit of teasing."

Heat creeps up your neck at the hint. He's obviously drunk, but so are you, because now you're smirking as you reply, "It completely depends on the occasion."

"Yeah?" He seems completely invested, impatient fingers tapping against the marble of the counter as he towers over you. "What kind of occasion, exactly?"

You can't resist an eye roll. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Oh, I'd like to know, all right. Very much so."

The giggle you weave into the tease is innocently cute, "Sorry, but I don't kiss and tell." It's all fun and games, right? No harm done.

He's quick to turn it into his favour. "Mind making an exception for me?"

"For which one, exactly," you quip in an instant, "the kiss, or the tell part?"

"Why, you little-... Hah." His lips part, revealing the perfect, straight row of teeth again as he laughs quietly at your jab.

The beam itself is crooked and appealing, and it's in that exact moment that you realize how close he actually is as he stands next to you. How his gaze burns like a forge as it focuses solely on you, and how anyone walking past could take it the wrong way as you push back against the counter and he leans in even further, like it's his fucking instinct to follow after you.

Wait. Are you actually flirting with him right now?

You pray to every God you know that Naruto doesn't come searching for you. If he were to find you like this, your brother might just tear you to shreds for messing with his best friend of all people. Might rip Kiba apart for allowing it in the first place, too.

But in all seriousness; are you just messing around with him? Or do you actually want to initiate something with your brother's best friend, who, at long last, is giving you the attention you've wished for ever since you were thirteen? Or perhaps it is just the booze taking control of your actions?

The edge of the counter bites into the small of your back with the movement as you pull back. Kiba's digits tap against the marble again. He trails his eyes all over you - up and down. Like a proper bastard.

His arm is so close to your side that you can feel his body heat pour into you, even though you're not making any sort of physical contact ever since your hand had left his flannel. The feeling is overwhelming, to say the least. You can't believe you're actually growing flustered around an idiot like Kiba, for fuck's sake.

The daze you feel is the reason why the best you can do is stare at his chest now, which is so wide that you're wondering how big his goddamn ribcage must be. His heart definitely beats like a war drum; you're sure of it.

Before you can hesitate, the curiosity you feel makes you press your palm against the middle of his chest. Not a moment passes, and there it is - the strong, steady heartbeat you've expected to feel; grazing your finger pads, and making your own pulse skyrocket.

"Anyways," you pat his firm chest, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible while placing the cup of soda onto the counter, "I can handle it just fine, Kib."

"Sweetheart," Kiba utters, the grin on his face growing even wider, "I'm not entirely sure you can."

Your gaze lifts as you look at him underneath your eyelashes. His face owns a reddish tint to it now; both cheeks blooming with heat which you're guessing is there because of the alcohol.

His eyes seem glossy, the stare heavy-lidded and complacent, but most importantly - unmoving from your own.

Your nerves are firing up all at once at the intense eye contact. Pressure climbs up your throat, making your chest tighten with blazing-hot tension. Your mind is running all over the place, turning you incapable of concentrating.

The suspense makes you falter as you peel your eyes away from him. It turns you into a coward, because now you're completely changing the subject, "Nice bracelet."

Kiba on the other hand, seems to be holding his ground. His voice is smooth as velvet as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and says, "As far as I remember, you've bought it for me at the beach years ago."

Hyper-awareness flashes throughout you at his touch, making you tongue-tangled with the jumble of words you let out, "Yeah, 'cause you wouldn't stop bitching about how I lost your stupid Spider-Man towel, and I had to make it up to you somehow."

"First of all, it wasn't stupid. And second," he chuckles as he curls the same strand of hair around his finger and tugs it lightly to provoke you further, "it was an Iron Man one. Please educate yourself before you come for me, cutie."

Your pulse is racing now. "Cutie?"

Kiba blinks. His knuckle brushes your cheekbone and it's like a tingling, nearly electrical jolt that surges through him at the accidental touch in that exact moment.

He pulls back, leaving the part of skin he touched burning in his wake. "I'm sorry. I didn't-... I didn't mean it like that. Fuck, hah."

His laughter is somewhat nervous now, and to be honest, you've never seen him act this hesitant before. The Kiba you know had always been nothing but smug in every single aspect, but at the same time, you barely know the current Kiba.

You haven't talked in years, after all - not properly, at least, which is why this entire interaction is so freaking odd in the first place. You wish you had some sort of power to know what on earth is going on inside that pretty head of his.

Based from experience gained from spending so many years in his company, you're guessing not much is happening inside that thick skull, but you'd kill to know the reason as to why he's invited you to his birthday party at all.

What has changed? Why was he searching the house for you, specifically, pretty much ignoring all the people he had invited, and why has he decided to spend the rest of the night in your presence, instead of anyone else's?

It seems that no matter how simple his mind may be, Kiba is - much to your dismay - the true enigma here.

Great.

"Ugh, I'm sorry," he repeats when you don't say anything in return, running a frustrated hand through his chestnut hair, "I think I'm just really wasted and saying shit I don't mean, 'cause of it."

In truth, he just wants to see if you'll bite into the bait he's setting up for you. If you'll play, and allow him to yank you right into his greedy hands.

You must be wasted, too, because now you're looking him right in the eye, saying, "It's all right, Kib. I liked it."

You just can't help yourself. Tonight is the first time in your life that you're seeing him this defenseless. That you're able to tug and pull on his strings, and play with him like he's a shiny, new toy that you can't wait to mess with. The opportunity is simply too good to miss out on.

If only you knew.

The atmosphere changes yet again at the words you've just spoken out loud, God have mercy on your soul. Something sticky and morally questionable settles right between you.

The tension is making your mouth dry. You're both circling now; unsure and waiting to see who is willing to take the first step towards the reason behind your uncertainty.

"You liked it," he mumbles at long last, unable to look at you properly, "the pet name?"

"Mhmm, I think it's cute." The smile you offer him is as cunning as one of a fox - pure vixen. Kiba doesn't understand why, but something about your face brightening up and the way the sheen of your lip gloss catches light tempts him; makes him tilt his head to the side and take you in unashamedly this time around.

He's outright leering at you now, studying you from head to toe, and taking in the pretty skirt and tight top, without trying to hide his interest like he's been doing for the past hour and a half.

You might own the smile of a fox, being an Uzumaki and all that, but when his amber eyes darken with shadows you can't quite read, you realize that he's the hound that's just about ready to start hunting you down.

His bottom lip is tucked underneath the same teeth that are now chewing the tender flesh from deeply pondering a thought which you'll never get the pleasure of knowing.

Kiba steps from one foot to another, loosing a huffed chuckle before he looks you in the eye again; seemingly satisfied with his conclusion.

Time to go all-in.

"You know," he says, voice wary, "I've got loads of other stuff from way back when we were kids, saved in a box upstairs, if you wanna check it out?"

He pauses for a second as his head whips to the side. He looks over his shoulder, and you can see him scan the room quickly; searching for something, or rather someone, before he turns back towards you and adds, "It's, uh... It's up in my room."

You quirk a brow at the suggestion. "You want to take me up to your room?"

Is he seriously asking what you think he is?

"Yeah," he says a bit more confidently now, scratching the back of his neck. His face is red as he mutters, "But only if you want to, of course."

"Hmm." You spend two or three seconds pretending that you're thinking it over just to see him fidget and squirm a bit more, before you at long last give him a slow nod of your head, "Sure, I guess."

Kiba seems relieved, until: "Though, I should probably go tell Naruto, so that he knows where I am."

Pushing from the counter, you dust off the imaginary lint from your cute skirt, however before you can even look up at him, his hand is back to pressing against the marble; blocking your path.

It seems that you aren't going anywhere.

Kiba's eyes are dark and glazed, the iridescent flecks of gold lazily swirling inside the liquid amber whenever the light catches the irises just right. He's looking down at you with a furrowed brow and an expression that's pretty bitter, unlike his honey eyes, but you only realize that he can't stop staring at your mouth when he says, "Maybe we shouldn't tell Naruto about where we're goin', sweetheart."

You aren't stupid. You know that the words have a deeper meaning. And now, you have yet another reason for your hunch to be proven right on why he doesn't want your brother to find out where you're going with him. Still, you push his limit, feeling him out, "And why is that?"

"He's probably busy." His voice is firm as he looks down at you when you flutter your eyelashes up at him. Perhaps it even owns a certain edge of frustration to it.

You sound like a bimbo when you reply, "Ah, I see."

You stare at each other as you feel the buzz of tension to sear your skin in mind-numbing waves. They're hitting against you both like you're cliffs that are constantly being kissed by the rowdy sea.

You can almost taste the anticipation of what's to come. Meanwhile, Kiba can nearly taste your saliva mixing with his own.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Kiss you, until you won't be able to feel your mouth anymore from how hot his tongue is to stroke yours and scorch you.

He's been imagining how it'd be like to kiss that pouty mouth ever since he was fourteen. And now - at twenty-two - he wants to know just as bad.

"Well?" he utters, impatience peeking through the mask he's put on ever since you've shown up at his front door.

"Chill, you idiot," you giggle finally, nodding again, "I won't tell Naruto if you don't want me to."

It'll be our little secret.

Relief washes over him yet again. He smirks as he moves at your compliance, offering you his hand like those cocky gentlemen in the films you're an absolute sucker for. "Well, shall we, then?"

The action is so cheesy and sweet, that you don't even hesitate to place your palm upon his own, not realizing the consequences of your decision in that moment.

His grip is tight and possessive in all the right ways. You can't remember the last time you've held hands with him, but it certainly didn't feel like this.

"Lead the way, Kib."

And so, Kiba does.

---

"Christ, I haven't been up here in forever."

"And yet, you seem to have made yourself quite at home."

You turn to look at him from your spot on his bed you've just plopped down and made yourself comfortable on. His childhood bedroom is a bit different than what you saw the last time you were here, but what exactly has changed?

The bed is certainly bigger, as well as the wardrobe that stands in one corner opposite from where you're currently sitting. All of the furniture is made out of rich oak, exactly like most of the house; as well as the desk that's covered in random clutter, mostly consisting of notebooks, bright highlighters and sticky notes, which he must have brought home from college.

The movie posters to adorn the walls are still there, and somehow compliment the cosy aesthetic of his space. You spot the fluffy-looking dog bed that's set-up right next to his desk. It's empty.

"Is Akamaru with your mom?"

"Yeah, they won't be back until tomorrow evening," Kiba replies, closing the door, "now stop snooping through my stuff, will ya?"

"Uh, it's called looking around? Who said I was snooping?" The scoff you let out in answer is nothing short from derisive as you say, "And besides, it's not like there'd be anything new to find... Not much has changed; seeing that your room is still as messy as it was when you were ten."

"It ain't that messy," he retaliates, fingers wrapping around the key that's secured in the lock. He stands next to the door for a couple of seconds, making you stare at his back in puzzlement.

His voice is surprisingly quiet and soft when he speaks again, though thankfully you can still hear him over the muffled noise of music that's still being blasted downstairs, "By the way, uh... Do you mind if I lock the door?"

Oh?

The smirk which insists on curling the corners of your gloss-coated lips upwards is hard to hide. "Why would you lock it?"

He pauses again, body going still. You just know the gears within his head are turning at the speed of light. You can't help but wonder if it hurts him to think this much; this hard, when he says, "I don't want people getting the wrong idea."

Your reply is as swift as an arrow: "Don't you think locking the door would give them that exact idea in the first place, Kiba?"

For fuck's sake, you're too clever and witty for your own good; always have been. It's infuriating, but Kiba tames the tone of his voice into something sweeter by swallowing hard. "Let's hope not."

Before you can quip anything back at him, the lock clicks into place. Click! - your fate is sealed with his decision. God help you.

"Wow," you snort, shaking your head, "thanks for having the decency to at least ask me if I wanted the door locked, I suppose."

Kiba flashes you a playful, closed-eyed smile when he turns around and makes his way towards the wardrobe. You try to your best ability to not ogle at the way the flannel tightens around his broad shoulders and back when he raises his arms to pick up the box he's been telling you about.

Still, no matter how hard you try to look away, it seems to be literally impossible for you to quit glancing in his direction whenever the rippling muscle shifts underneath the cotton with every minuscule movement he makes.

The sports scholarship must have done him good, because he's fit and fucking fine as hell.

Though, not in the tall and lean way kind of fit, like he's been during most of his teenage years. No, as a proper adult, Kiba is appealingly vigorous and buff; owning strength you can't quite possibly imagine being unleashed upon your smaller frame.

He'd be able to crush you into a pulp if he ever wished to do so. To squeeze your throat until you'd be fighting against him, so that he'd allow air into your lungs. To hold you up without any sort of trouble as he'd fuck you against the goddamn wall.

You're not entirely sure if the knowledge of that last one thrills you, or instead frightens you right to the bone which he'd be able to break right in half anyway. Still, possibly scared or not, you might just start drooling at the sight of him.

You're looking at him like he's a piece of meat you'd like to chew on. How pathetic of you to be this shallow.

And how pathetic of him to be doing the exact same thing.

"Okay," he mumbles as he brings the box over and plops down onto the bed right next to you, "let's see what's in here."

Kiba flicks the lid off, the tiniest of smiles creeping up on his lips at the audible gasp you let out as soon as the items come into view.

The box is filled with seemingly completely random clutter, but after taking a closer look, you recognize the tiny sea-shells, the movie tickets, as well as all the postcards you've sent him. It's more than ten years of life - stuffed into a cardboard shoebox.

You spend the next half hour going through the box with him, reminiscing about memories that are both equally as sweet as they are nostalgic, sharing laughs and teasing each other as they bring you closer together; sewing up that gap of unfamiliarity between you with every passing second and exchanged relic.

Kiba's heart is fluttering with every drunken, tinkling giggle you're letting out, as well as the way your entire expression brightens because of him.

And he - the smitten, poor man that he is - just can't stop looking at you, because he's missed this. Talking to you, bringing those beaming smiles forth everytime he makes you laugh; just being in your warm presence, overall. Truth be told, he's missed all of it.

He's missed you.

"Can't believe you've kept all of this, Kib," you utter softly, reading the postcard you've sent him nearly nine years ago, "most of these literally make no sense. I'm just blabbering about my vacation, but in writing."

"I know. I suppose you could call me sentimental, eh?" He laughs quietly as he leans in and trails the tip of his finger over the scribbles you've written down when you were eleven. "But I always liked the lil' hearts you drew for me on every one."

"The hearts?"

"Yeah, look," he says as he pushes even closer to you, pointing to the corner of the postcard, "here's one. And... Another one."

His index finger brushes against your thumb when he points to the second doodle of a heart on the postcard you're still holding. He's sprawled on his side, supporting himself with one elbow and reclining so close to you, that you can smell his cologne all over again.

The scent clouds your mind for a second time that night. You're right back inside that rainy forest again; wishing to lie down onto the damp, moss-covered ground and just be fucking overtaken by the fog, until you'd feel the chill of its kiss on your neck.

The thought makes you drop the postcard somewhat absent-mindedly as you turn to look at him. He's much closer than you've realized, because as soon as you make eye contact; your faces are mere inches apart, the tips of your noses almost touching.

You can see all of his freckles this up-close, as well as the dimple in his cheek which shows up when one corner of his mouth tugs to the side. Something within you begins to glow when he looks at you so very warmly with those big, fierce amber eyes of his.

He makes you feel special with just one look alone. Unique. One of a kind.

"What is it, cutie?" His voice is barely above a whisper now.

"Nothing, I just," you mumble as heat sears your face at the pet name, "I think I must be very drunk right now, because I actually think you look super pretty up-close."

"Oh?" Kiba snickers at what you admit. "Why, thank you. Wish I could say the same for you, but you're kind of blurry for me right now."

"Ha ha, funny." You roll your eyes at him, shoving him away by pressing your palm against his chest. However, before you can even fully extend your arm to use more force, his fingers are wrapping around your wrist; tugging you closer in one swift movement.

He yanks you towards himself, until you're practically hovering above his face with your own. You're so close that you're sharing your breaths, staring into each other's eyes - both of your pupils dilating at the intimate closeness.

"I-I'm very drunk right now, Kiba," you repeat, cursing yourself internally for the stutter.

"As am I," he replies quietly, pushing your hand firmer against his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat right underneath the tips of your fingers again. The rhythmic sensation makes you gather up the cotton of his crisp, white t-shirt between your own digits as you clutch it tightly.

Your forehead presses against his own. You're almost breathless already, and he hasn't even kissed you. "This... This might not be a good idea."

"We haven't done anything," he utters in a hushed whisper, the hand that was just holding your wrist snaking up to caress your cheek. He trails the tip of his finger over your cheekbone, eyes glued to your mouth, "And we don't have to either, if that's not something you want."

The alcohol is pushing you to tell the truth. It's promising you that you'll feel better if you admit your feelings that have been there for ages. That the fear you feel is nothing compared to the relief that's to come.

"The problem is that I, uh... I do." You sigh, inching closer and closer, "I do want to."

Oh, god. Kiba's heart is just about ready to burst from joy at your answer. He feels nauseous from how overwhelmed all the feelings are making him. He just has to feel everything so strongly, doesn't he? It's amazing how he hasn't burned out yet, but he has to keep it together. Has to keep himself in check for you.

"Yeah?" His chuckle is dark in humour as he cups your cheek tighter, "You want me to kiss you?"

"Ye-... Yeah."

Kiba doesn't need anything else. His lips latch to your own as soon as you get the approval out, and the moment your mouths connect in panting, careful kisses that become hotter and hotter with passion with each one that follows after the other, it's everything you could have possibly wished for.

Kissing him is better than whatever you've imagined for all these years. He tugs on your bottom lip, spoils the upper one with affection, warms them both with his gentle sigh. You can't believe it took you this long to actually get to feel that plush mouth of his pressing against your own this softly, this tenderly.

Better late than never, you suppose.

He pulls back after a while, taking a deep, shaky breath. You're both chuckling quietly now, avoiding each other's eyes and not saying anything; too stunned to speak from the kiss you've just shared. His face is gaining the colour of a red tomato. He just likes you so much.

"Fuck, that was..." He's quiet for a moment, shaking his head with a grin that owns the power to bring you to your knees as he says, "Can I, uh... Can I kiss you again, maybe?"

"Yes," you barely let out, before his mouth is back upon your own.

His warm tongue strokes your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. As soon as your lips part with a content sigh, he's pushing against you, tasting and gliding over every crevice within your sweet mouth, as well as the roof of it - tasting you for the very first time, and relishing you thoroughly because of it.

You can feel him forcing you into the mattress as the kisses flow between you and the tension you feel spreads through your entire body like a wildfire; until you're lying down on your side, and he's hovering above you exactly like you've done just a minute prior.

He's more eager now; overtaking your mouth with his tongue and the quick, slightly painful prickles which burn whenever he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. A small moan manages to slip past your mouth at the sensation when he tugs on your swollen lip that's long since lost all the gloss from how harsh your kissing is turning.

The sound of your mewl is so appealing that it makes him lazily part his eyelids, which are so heavy and hooded that he's barely keeping them open. Kiba watches you completely melt into the kiss he's been waiting to happen for literal ages. You look so sweet that he can barely control himself.

His chest feels like it's going to explode, and not from the lack of air, but from all the emotions he's feeling all at once again.

Your hands are running through his chestnut hair; entire body squirming and writhing when he trails his own palm down your side. He stops at the hem of your skirt, eager fingers twitching from anticipation as he asks, "Want me to touch you, too?"

Your voice is breathless as you whine, "Please."

"Look at you, asking so nicely." He snickers quietly, the smirk on his mouth tricksy, "Didn't know you had it in you."

And before you can even come up with a witty reply to his teasing, he's kissing you yet again, his warm hand grasping and squeezing the plush flesh of your thigh. His touch is greedy and possessive. It makes your core burn even hotter with wildish need.

His hand squeezes your thigh so harshly that it burns. You're gasping into his mouth in response to the ache, before he inches higher up to the inner part. The noises you're making as you're parting your legs to help him gain better access are adorable, and are also the reason why his dick keeps twitching inside his pants. He can feel the surge of warmth rushing to his groin. You're making him hard just by sound alone.

He keeps circling the spot where you need him most as he plays with you; testing your patience. He's so close but yet so far, making the tension within you build up to the point where you can feel your skin tightening over your bones because of it.

"Kiba," you whisper, tugging on his hair to bring him closer, "st-stop messing around."

"Here?" His voice is nearly a gentle coo as he at long last rubs a digit over the damp spot of arousal on your pretty panties, completely disregarding your empty warning, "You want me to touch you here, cutie?"

"Mhmmm," you hum, dazed already from the sensation.

He taps the lace with a single rough fingertip, nearly making you purr from the way he's pressing against your clit over the fabric. "Take these off for me, then, pretty please?"

You don't have to be told twice. His request is so sweet that you're eager as ever as you reach underneath your skirt, hook your fingers around the waistband and tug the delicate lace down your legs.

Kiba's hand finds you the second your panties hit the floor of his room. Your eyelids flutter at the contact, but you somehow force them to stay open, so that you can watch his smug smile as he trails a fingertip over your soaking pussy; gathering the arousal you've been trying to hide from him the entire night.

His voice is a rough whisper as he traces lazy circles over your throbbing clit, "So wet for me, huh? It seems like you haven't been touched in a while."

"It's been a lonely couple of months, yeah."

"That silly boyfriend of yours ain't around anymore, hmm?"

"We br-broke up."

"Good. I was growing tired of seeing his stupid face on your Insta all the time."

All you can do is nod as you stare up at him, your bottom lip tucked underneath your teeth. With one side of his face splashed in the soft glow of the light coming from the desk lamp that's positioned on the other end of the room, Kiba looks absolutely stunning.

His amber eyes shine golden when your leg hooks around his hip, so that you can give more space to that big hand of his as he pleasures you.

He keeps toying with you, rubbing your clit in soft circles that give you just enough friction to make your legs shake, and for your pussy to clench around nothing. The desire to be filled up by him is making you foam at the mouth. You're on the verge of going completely feral.

"Kiba, c'mooon," you whine, "I thought I've told you to stop mes- Fuck...! Oh, god."

"Hm? What was that?" His words are a lazy drawl as he now starts to pump two fingers inside you, stroking your hot, sensitive walls, "Did you say something, sweetheart?"

You're tugging on his hair so harshly that it makes him hiss as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, "Holy shit, that feels so good."

"Needy," he mumbles quietly, his thumb still stroking your clit. He curls his fingers and forces himself even deeper inside you, until you can feel the brush of knuckles against your walls. Despite your hushed pleas to go faster, he keeps the languorous pace; sending your mind into absolute overdrive.

Your hands are clumsy as they slide down his chest and dip to his belt buckle. You're growing frustrated from being such a klutz, until you at long last hear that satisfying click! as you unbuckle his belt on your third attempt. Quickly undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, you're eager to finally slip your hand into his black boxer briefs.

You stroke him over the fabric first. He pushes against you in an instant; chasing that extra friction as you try to cup and fondle as much as you can. You could have sworn that you feel him twitch as his breathing picks up its speed.

You're both looking down now, staring at your hands that are exploring each other's bodies.

The groan to leave the back of his throat makes you feel absolutely primal as you use one hand to tug the boxers down just enough for his cock to push free from the tight confines of his clothes, and the other to stroke him properly this time around.

The gasp to leave your lips is as astonished as your gawking. You've been wondering how he looked like underneath all those layers ever since you were fifteen and had gotten that first wave of hormones flooding your brain.

And as you're ogling at him so blatantly now, eyeing his throbbing cock and the pre-cum that's leaking out the tip, you realize that his size could best be described as nerve-wracking.

Your fingers are hesitant to wrap around him properly because of how tiny your hand looks compared to his dick, and yet you still do it anyway. Kiba's hand clamps around your own the moment you make contact, forcing you to tighten your grip and start pumping.

"Fuck," he whispers, eyes dark and murky at the touch, "that feels so good."

He's copied you word for word.

"Aha," you utter nervously, feeling him pick up his pace, "so, so good, Kib."

He feels big in your hand, the surge of blood making his dick so hard and throbbing that you're worried how on earth you'll make him fit if things actually escalate in that direction. If he doesn't calm down, he might just tear you apart with his cock.

The handjob you're giving him is as sloppy as the kisses you're sharing while he fingers you. It's so intimate and overwhelming; the way you're pushing against one another, writhing on his bed so much that you're both starting to sweat.

"Wanna fuck you," he groans into your mouth at some point, his words nearly incoherent from the way you're gliding your tongue along his front teeth, "wanna fuck you so bad, cutie."

"Do it," you gasp when he applies more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes you squirm against him. The need you feel comes first before the nervosity. You'll deal with your wrecked insides after he fucks you silly.

"Yeah?" he murmurs softly, kissing your jawline when your head tips back from the pleasure, "You'll let me fill up that cute pussy of yours?"

Heat crawls up your neck at his question and your answer, "Yeah."

He quickens his pace. "Pound it, too?"

"Yes...!"

Kiba lets out a short, huffed laugh at your enthusiasm before he presses a messy smooch right against your panting mouth. The sound echoes throughout the bedroom, making you giggle in reply. His face is so red. You doubt that it's from the alcohol now.

Thick fingers leave you slowly, rubbing the sweet arousal all over your inner-thighs and clit as he says, "Turn around for me."

You're worse than an obedient slut, or a feral bitch in heat from how happily you follow his orders. As soon as your back is turned towards him, your gaze falls upon the mirror of the wardrobe that's right opposite you.

The sight of your body as it twists and recoils on top of the bed sheets is a pitiful one, but it's quickly obscured by the fluttering of your eyelashes as soon as you feel him rub his cock over your dripping heat.

His mouth is right next to your ear when he whispers, "You on the pill?"

"Mhmm."

"Okay," he says, kissing your neck lovingly. You can feel the graze of his sharp canines slide across your pulse point when he adds, "gonna fuck you raw, then. Nice and slow, to really savour the feeling of that lil' cunt."

You're arching your back in response, pushing your ass towards his hips while your spine is pressing flush against his heaving chest.

Kiba slowly aligns himself with your sopping, tight hole. Now, your whimper is more of a cry than a moan as he begins to stretch you out with every inch he's leisurely pushing into your warmth. Even he's surprised that he's patient enough to be this gentle, but he just cares for you so much.

Your upper lip quivers as tears brim your eyes from the burn to sear through you. His forearm flexes as it tightens around your middle to keep you from outright running away from him. The shifting of muscles you see in the mirror as his grip turns tenacious is a welcome distraction.

"You're taking it so well, cutie," he encourages you delicately, using every chance to push himself in deeper, "you gonna keep taking my cock, right? Gonna keep being good for me?"

You can't form words, so you only nod as he keeps forcing himself further and further between your walls, sighing at the friction and the tight, wet warmth to surround him. You're on the cusp of crying by the time he at long last bottoms out within you, groaning at the sensation of being balls deep inside your soaking cunt.

"Fuck," he curses, breathing quick, "I've wanted to do that since I was seventeen."

"Kiba," you whine his name out, arching your back again, "it-it's too much...!"

It really is. He's taking over your entire capacity, and you feel like you're about to burst.

"Nu-uh," he smirks, not taking no for an answer as he kisses your temple, "you just need a lil' time to get used to it. Imma stretch you out real nice, sweetheart. We're gonna have so much fun."

Your fingers tighten their grip on the bed sheet, until you're literally clawing at it when he pulls his hips back and slams them right back into you with a lewd squelching noise and a smack!

"Oh, god!" Your eyes are sent rolling into the back of your head when he does it again. And again.

"No god here, 's just me," he laughs quietly, gaining a steady rhythm when it comes to destroying your insides. You're leaking milky arousal right down to the hilt of his dick as he keeps slamming home into you, making you cry out profanities every two seconds or so.

The noises you're both making mix with your heavy breathing and the sound of muffled music that's still thundering downstairs without stop. You're both so invested into each other that neither you nor him can recognize the song that's playing in that exact moment. All that matters are his grunts and your soft moans. As well as the friction. Holy fuck, the friction.

"You're a sucker for this, aren't you?" He pants into your ear, ramming himself into you with even more force, "You love the way my cock fills up your cute cunt, and how it hurts when I make you take it; all of it."

"I do," you sob out, face contorting from the intense pleasure, "I lo-love it so much...!"

"Fuck yeah, you do, cutie," he grits out, teeth clenched, "fuck yeah, you do."

You can't see his face in the mirror, but just the sight of his big, rough hands roaming your front; greedily lifting your top until your bra is exposed, and groping at your tits without any kind of respect is enough to make you want to scream his name until the entire house could hear.

Luckily for you, he chokes you before you can do it, though the desire is still there. He's making you feel that good.

So good, in fact, that the heat in the pit of your stomach is becoming unbearable. You're on the verge of erupting into pure bliss from the mind-shattering orgasm that's coming up; lingering just around the corner. There'll be nothing left of you if he keeps this up. He'll make you blaze, until you're nothing but ash.

"S-So close," you manage through shallow breaths because he's barely allowing you to breathe while you're rolling your hips against his own for that extra push, "please, please, fucking please."

"Already?" He laughs at your fucked out state as his expert digits hook around your thigh. Lifting your leg without warning, the pressure within your core swells and grows bigger and bigger. His fingers dig into the back of the plush flesh before he trails them upwards; aiming them for your clit again.

"Kiba," you gasp his name once more, feeling his grip around your throat tighten in response as he pulls you even closer to his chest, "fuck, please, I-... Need it...! Need to cum so bad."

"I thought you said you liked to be teased a little?"

"Just do it, god fucking damn!"

"All right, all right!" He chuckles lowly, "So impatient, damn... Keep your leg up for me."

The moment his rough finger pads make contact with your demanding clit, your entire body spasms in his tight hold, fire licking at your skin with ferocious hunger. You can see it all in the mirror, the way the veins atop his tan skin protrude as he applies the pressure you need to become undone in the end.

"Ri-Right there. Fuck, yes...!" Your whispers are a trembling jumble of moans and whimpers. Kiba is chuckling quietly, his smile pressing against the back of your head as he keeps fucking you; keeps slamming you into goddamn oblivion. You're delicate like glass, but he sure as hell isn't going to handle you that way.

"Yeah?" He drawls tiredly, blushing at the lewd, wet sounds your lovemaking is producing. You're so wet that he's mesmerized in a way. Never before had a girl been this excited to have him. It's like a present. "Like this, baby?"

"Mhmm, like that."

"Gonna cum for me?"

"Wanna, yeah. So bad."

His laughter warms your very soul. "You're such a slu-"

"Kiba!" The sudden knock to come from the door makes you both stiffen, bodies turning rigid at the suspense of what's going to happen next. Your heart is pounding inside your ribcage, because the voice you've just heard sounds familiar. Especially when it says: "Yo, Kiba! You in there?"

Naruto.

The hushed exclamation of panic to leave you is quickly stifled by Kiba's palm that covers your mouth in a movement that's faster than lightning. He's panting now, leaning into your ear, going, "Shh, shh, shh. Keep quiet."

All you do to reply is make a muffled noise, fingers curling around his arm that's still keeping busy between your legs. He's never stopped fucking you; even whilst your brother is standing right on the other side of the door.

You're lucky Kiba had decided to lock it, because now you can hear the sound of the handle as Naruto tries it.

"Kiba," your sibling repeats, knocking again, "hellooo?"

The irritation to lace Kiba's voice is so profound that it sets your teeth on edge as he shouts, "What? I'm busy, man!"

"Busy? With what?"

"Fucking your sister."

Holy fucking hell.

Your eyes widen in shock, another muffled noise escaping your lips as you twist and turn to fight back against the tight grip he holds you in, but Kiba refuses to let you go. He fights right back, using his weight to press you flush against the mattress as he makes you roll onto your stomach.

His hands wrap around your wrists, shoving them both into the pillow to keep you from thrashing on top of his bed.

The moment he pushes his cock all the way into your warmth again, you go completely still. The new, deeper angle makes your breath stagger in the back of your throat. It takes all you have within you to not moan as loudly as you can as you try to crawl towards the headboard of the bed to pull yourself up.

He just can't stop fucking you, unable to release you from the cage his body has created around you. He's been waiting for too long; daydreamed and fantasized about this exact moment far too much to just allow Naruto to cockblock him yet again. He wants to see this entire thing to its end. Wants to see you cream on his dick, and to kiss you right after.

"You idiot," you cry out into the pillow, "why'd you tell him that?"

"Stop squirmin' around," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, "you wouldn't want your big brother to hear us, now would you? And besides, it's not like that moron is ever gonna take it seriously."

"Ha, wow, you're so funny!" Naruto snorts in that exact moment, his voice the epitome of intoxication and proving Kiba right, "Speaking of y/n: do you know where she is? It's been a while since I've last seen her."

"I dunno, I think she left early to go hang out with her friend, or some shit," Kiba replies, eyeing your writhing body underneath him with a smirk as he keeps pushing, and pushing, and pushing until it hurts, "now quit nagging me, will ya? You're annoying as fuck, and I don't really care where your sister is."

He's a good liar, at least. And a mean one, too.

When you whip your head to the side to look up at him, he's shaking his own head no, leaning in quickly to kiss your cheek.

"Didn't mean any of that," he whispers into your ear, peppering soft kisses to the corner of your jaw, "don't be angry with me."

All you do is roll your eyes and lift your ass up higher into the air by arching your back. Kiba chuckles at the sinful portrayal of truce between you, biting back a groan when he burrows himself so deep inside you that he's kissing your cervix with every thrust.

You're so close that your toes are curling in on themselves. As he picks up his pace again, trying to make it as silent as he can, you're biting into the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut from the euphoria to start overtaking you.

Kiba can feel your walls clenching around him; can feel them spasming and pulsating around his cock as your pretty cunt tries to milk him dry - tries to force the cum right out of him.

You look fucking beautiful like this; panting and drooling on his pillowcase as you attempt to stay quiet. It just makes him torture you even more. Especially when his fingers find your clit again.

You're clenching around him so hard that it nearly hurts as he strokes, pinches and spoils your sensitivity with his rough touch. He's completely dazzled from how well you're taking him. And as for you: all you can feel is his hand as it covers your mouth again just to be safe the moment before you're finally pushed over the edge.

And then, you're falling. Falling into true, utter bliss that only some good, ferocious pounding can bring.

He fucks you like an animal throughout your entire high, never once stopping in slamming home and torturing that sweet, sensitive spot deep within you - not even as your entire body shakes when you gush milky slick all over his cock and make it drip onto the bed sheet. It spurts and stains your inner-thighs; makes it even easier for him to abuse your cute pussy from how slick it is now.

"Ki-Kiba."

"Holy fuck, cutie," Kiba whispers, caressing your cheek lovingly as he keeps pounding; drilling into you, "you're so hot."

"Kiba!" Naruto shouts in that moment.

"What?!"

"Christ, man... Don't gotta be so grumpy all the time." He sighs, "Did she tell you which friend she was going with?"

Kiba looks down at you again, trying not to pay mind to just how fucking gorgeous you look with your skirt hiked up around your waist and sweat glimmering on your skin as you keep bouncing on top of the mattress everytime he pounds into you. His tongue flicks over the side of your neck as he murmurs, "Sweetheart?"

Your pupils are dilating inside your glazed irises when you look up at him. You're completely dazed from the high you've just experienced. Goddamn, he fucks like other men can only dream about fucking. He's worse than a beast. More insatiable than Greed itself. "Mm, Tenten... Tell him it's Tenten. She'll cover for me."

He grins at the lie before he calls out, "I think it was some chick called Tenten."

Naruto's reply is quick. "Ah, okay! That fits."

"Go away now, stupid!"

"Yeah, yeah! Going away now, you fuckin' grouch!"

You're both silent for a couple of seconds as you wait for Naruto to leave you alone before you finally allow yourself to giggle quietly.

Kiba joins in a moment later, snickering against your shoulder. He rests his forehead upon it and sighs. You can feel the layer of sweat sticking to his skin. He's completely drenched in salt, and so are you. Must be the clothes you were both far too impatient to take off.

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters quietly as you flip onto your back and wrap your legs around his waist with a sheepish grin, "he's always trying to cockblock me when it comes to you, I swear. Even without knowing it."

Your brow quirks in wicked amusement. "Oh? You've tried to hit on me before?"

Colour blooms on his tan face when he looks down at you and leans in to kiss you again. His arms are on both sides of your head as he looms above you. He's so big and bulky that he overtakes you completely. It makes you feel safe, instead of threatened.

There's just something peculiar seeing this completely new, unexplored side of him after knowing him for years. It's thrilling.

"I've wanted to text you and ask you out so many times," he mumbles, unsure if it's the alcohol talking or his heart, "I've been crushin' on you since I was a kid, but, uh... I was Naruto's friend first, ya know...? I didn't wanna make it weird between us."

"I get it, Kib." The tips of your noses are touching before he tilts his head to the side and kisses you again - this time deeply, slowly; sensually. The way he moves now is intimate and it means something deeper than it did before. You're both rocking alongside each other, trying to match each other's pleasantly laggard pace.

"Do you," he mumbles, staring down at you through hooded, heavy eyelids, "get it?"

"Yeah," you sigh, your own eyelids fluttering at the pleasant sensation of being so full, "I've been crushing on you for years, too."

"Ha, knew it."

"Don't laugh, now."

"Okay, okay."

The deep, raspy grunts to leave his mouth mix with your breathless gasps and quiet whimpers. Especially when he lifts your leg and places it on top of his shoulder, so that he can brand your fucking soul with his mark.

You're clawing at his damp t-shirt, trying to gain hold of him as much as you possibly can, so that you can keep him as close as he lets you.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, y/n."

"You're pretty, too."

"Can't call me handsome?"

"No."

The bashful chuckles to leave both of your mouths fade into silence when you kiss again, tongues tangling into something more gentle and sincere. He's so close to you that all you can breathe in is him. He makes you glow from within yet again; like your heart is being submerged in liquid sunshine.

You've missed him so much. He's been the one for all this time, after all.

"Fuck, that's it."

"Mm, yeah... So good."

"Gonna-... Gonna cum soon."

The headboard of the bed starts to slam against the wall as Kiba picks up his pace, every thrust becoming quick and hard when he at long last allows himself to reach his finish. His brow furrows when your panting mouth latches to his own hungrily, swallowing the groan he lets out as the heat to build up within his lower stomach finally spills right into your goddamn womb in the form of thick, warm ropes of cum that paint your walls entirely white.

His entire body feels like it's on fire. The release is as heavenly as was the build-up.

You follow a fraction of a second later, writhing underneath him in your own high as you cling onto him, leaking a mixture of your own juices of pleasure and his seed. It's messy, and hot, and so fucking overwhelming that you both feel slightly dizzy as you try to breathe in as much air as possible.

You're both soaked in sweat, but he still holds you so tightly that it hurts while you're both losing yourselves in each other, and you don't mind at all that your bones are nearly breaking in half as he keeps whispering sweet praises into your ear; telling you how good it feels, how goddamn proud he is of you.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs as he kisses you again and again, "such a pretty, clever girl."

You're still absolutely dazed, cunt clenching around him in attempt to gather every last drop of his warm cum, head tipped back in complete ecstasy as he's kissing your jaw.

You can't move. He's fucked you stupid, so it's no wonder that your only, rather brainless, response is:

"Happy birthday, Kiba."

#kiba x reader #kiba #kiba inuzuka #kiba x y/n #naruto smut #naruto fanfiction #kiba x you #kiba smut

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alldaysarenights · 15 days

Text

On Discworld…

…and the things I’ve learned so far.

I know, I’m late, but sometimes it’s fun to discover something on your own and in your time.

Recently, I’ve started reading the Discworld series, beginning with Rincewind. And there are so many tiny things I’ve discovered, I don’t even know where to start.

I’ll give D&D a go first. As a passionate player and also a I-once-ran-a-short-campaign DM, I couldn’t but notice all the references there to find, especially with Rincewind. Right now I’m 4 books into his story, barely at the beginning, yet I’ve laughed my a** off a few times. Always wondering what he took from a former campaign. Well, at first I wondered if Sir Pratchett actually played. The internet was quick to answer the question, yes, yes of course he did. Would have been more surprised, if he didn’t.

I discovered stuff about the gods playing dice and there are sorcerer, barbarians and the luggage, which slightly reminds me of a mimic. But I guess this beast came afterwards. I told the other players of my group, and they agreed on the resemblance. Now we definitely have the plan, to tame a mimic, lol.

I could quote you so much stuff, but I’d fancy you going on an adventure and see it for yourself. Read the books, assemble some good friends, and have some fun on a silly campaign. Not necessarily in this order.

Next thing that keeps popping up in my mind, while reading, is Good Omens. I came from the Neil Gaiman side, getting lured in by Morpheus, whom I met doing some research. My comic book dealer was happy to help. Naturally, there was a point where I did read Good Omens. And it was weird, this was Gaiman, but also not, and it was so funny. I knew one day I would have to read Discworld. Unfortunately, I was a bit discouraged by the massive amount of books. The problem sorted out itself, after a friend, I’ve talked to about it, enabled me to read them.

With it came a list in which order I should proceed, so I happily jumped in, secretly nurturing the idea of reading all the books within a year. If it works out, no idea, we’ll see. If so, I might write another article on the experience.

Anyway, the point is, knowing Good Omens well as for watching the series multiple times and doing the same to the book (reading actually), I couldn’t but notice some stuff that definitely came from Terry’s side. Like phrases, he kept using. I did read: “Not as such” as an answer more than once. No matter who said it, in my imagination it was Crowley for a split second.

The first book got me so confused, I completely forgot that this was Terry Pratchett. I caught myself thinking, I was reading Neil Gaiman. This set my brain on halt and the world stood for a second. Amazing what books can do to you.

I’ve realised Death and the horsemen and how they seem unable to start a proper apocalypse. Also, sometimes there were phrases sounding a lot like Agnes Nutter. As well as the tone it is written in, the tiny wordings you sometimes aren’t aware of as an author. And it led me to the conclusion, (of course there is no other evidence and I could be totally wrong), that Neil must have invested a lot of time in re-reading the Discworld or maybe already know them by heart. For some of the things I’ve realised definitely played a part in GO2.

It is amazing how much two people can morph into one, and yet there must be a lot of work behind the scenes. I for my part can only hope that my writing buddy and I can get to this point some day. At least I’ll have to convince him to write a full-grown novel together first.

So you might ask yourself, and I know because so did I, what’s the whole point of this article? Fair enough. I came to the conclusion, that fun expands with knowledge. And I know, my sense of fun probably differs from that of others a lot. But if you are able to grasp those tiny hints and hidden pleasures, it can make a story twice as joyful.

So go out there and consume all those stories. Not just by reading. Listen to people telling their stories, watch movies, series, anime. Maybe go to the opera or watch a play. Memorise a poem or play a game. Find the medium which suits you well but keep on searching, you’ll never know what you might learn from it and what pleasures and magic are hidden in those stories. Because our world is built, or maybe better, powered by storytelling.

#discworld #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #good omens #dnd #stories #storytelling

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obiwanobi · 1 year

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I was wondering if you had any more always a Sith Anakin goodness 👀 you know, for the prosperity of the universe ✨

I do actually! This has been forgotten in my drafts for months, but here's a short scene (600 words) of Obi-Wan seeing Vaderkin's face for the very first time!

The first time Obi-Wan sees Vader without his helmet is disconcerting.

But, oddly, not in the way Obi-Wan would have thought. Later, he would actually call it an exquisite surprise, perhaps the best one Vader ever sprang on him.

The suit is familiar, and he does recognise the red lightsaber in his mechanical hand. The way Vader moves is still brutal but efficient. But now, instead of a black mask and a silent and imposing presence some of his troops have nightmares about, stands a young man pouting. His curls are stuck to his forehead in a silly way after wearing the helmet for so long, his mouth is pink and full, and he has captivating blue eyes that make Obi-Wan takes a second to realise where his mind is going with that. This really can't be Darth Vader.

Almost too consumed by his thoughts, the man who can't be Vader sways his lightsaber quickly and Obi-Wan barely manages to block it.

"You're slower than usual, Kenobi," he says. Yes, there is that too. Without his modulator, Darth Vader has a lovely voice. Low and soothing, with a charming cadence to his words. Vader shakes his head, and all the wild curls around his face move, catching the sun. Honestly, it's like Vader is doing it on purpose. "I'm very sorry darling," Obi-Wan says before he realises what he's saying. Vader's eyes grow comically round at the endearment. "But it is the first I'm seeing your face, and it is a very distracting sight." Obi-Wan is standing close enough to see realisation dawning on him. The hand not holding his saber comes to his face, touching his cheek, as if checking if Obi-Wan is telling the truth.

Then something that Obi-Wan will think about for years to come happens. Vader starts blushing. He immediately disengages, stepping back so fast that he almost trips. He opens his mouth, splutters a bit, and when Obi-Wan takes a step forward, just to see what will happen, Darth Vader yells "don't!" way too loud for what he's used to. It would be rude to impose like that, so Obi-Wan complies and stops moving. The blush spreads to his ears, and it's a shame that his armour covers him so far up his neck because Obi-Wan has a sudden interest in seeing how far it can go. Vader lets out a fast series of foreign curses under his breath. "You haven't— This isn't—" Obi-Wan tilts his head, and Vader clearly takes that as an insult. "Shut up, I just forgot!" Mortification. From showing his face or what he just said, or both, Obi-Wan can't tell. But the feeling is so clear on his face that Obi-Wan wonders if it's why he wears a mask. It's very difficult to be intimidated by someone who wears their heart on their sleeve like that. "Well, I do prefer it this way. I think I would feel better if one day you manage to fatally wound me and the last thing I see is your face. I would die comforted in the knowledge that at least, death has pretty eyes." Vader looks ready to keel over. "No," he says, as if Obi-Wan said something awful to him. "No, you can't say— just— no!" He steps back again, one hand raised in front of him. "I need to go. Don't— this isn't over, Kenobi, later, I'll get to you later." Obi-Wan has never been more charmed by such awkwardness. He offers Vader his best grin. "Oh, I sure hope you do." Vader's face looks somewhere between dumbstruck and horrified. He doesn't try to pronounce another word, choosing, for once, to flee as fast as possible. If Obi-Wan had known sooner that flowery compliments and a warm tone were the keys to making him lose his bearings, a huge amount of destruction could have been easily avoided. Oh, well. There's always next time.

#yes it's cliché but this is a very self-indulgent AU #I think I planned to make this a 5+1 at first #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #fics i did write #clem's aus #always a sith anakin au

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mossymandibles · 5 months

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Forgot to add to the last ask- the otter comic says Kraw is a chimera, is that a natural species or are chimeras created somehow? Because otter grandpa said they're sterile and that happens to some non-natural animal combos irl. Also is his brother a chimera as well?

After just finding out about mayv and the way she looks, it made me think that chimeras are made by witches and not a natural species so I'm super curious now because why did somebody do that to those 2 kids if that's the case :(

In Hallowed Carrion chimera/Chimereals happen between two ‘primordial’ species that couldn’t normally mate, but it involves a ‘false uterus’ created by consuming the celestial body’s flesh. With Kraw it was his sea drake mother and Fury father. (They’re considered to be ‘primordial’ simply because they’ve been around for quite some time, live longer and are usually giants. Most modern day islanders don’t believe/know their kind exists, kind of like how we are with modern conspiracies of the ‘megalodon still existing in the marianna trench’).

It is a trait among chimereals that they are sterile. They’re also known by their abnormal growth hormones which causes them to keep growing/evolving for who knows how long. There’s actually a lot of prejudice held against them and they don’t often live in regular society like Kraw does, they’re usually considered dangerous and they’re often loners.

Most of this is only known because of Sylvaine learning about Serkan who is also a chimereal, albeit much older than Kraw. She’s actively studying chimereals through Kraw now. (He was actually very upset to learn he was sterile :(

And I’ve wanted to show more about Titus! It’s hard to balance my attention to everything lol.

Titus is also a chimereal. He was born on a specialized mill where they attempted to breed marine chimereals like him for hunting purposes. Most chimereals that come out of the mills end up dead, malformed or ‘defective’, so he was ‘lucky’. He also would have had the ability to breathe fire, but his flint glands were removed, like declawing a cat. He was kind of mean and he certainly had it harder than Kraw with Mayv. She didn’t even know he could speak when she first got him because his throat was fucked after they cut his flint glands out. He was about 7 when she got him and he was already known to be unruly/uncontrollable in the mill. They would have put him down if Mayv hadn’t come along. She took care of him though despite keeping a firm hand and eventually he came to see her as a surrogate mother.

He definitely got a jealous streak when she brought Kraw home. Mayv would often be fawning over how Kraw “came from the sea, so he would make such a great hunter and how beautiful his colors were and-“ blah blah blaaah. Titus hadn’t even seen the sea until Mayv rescued him, and he thought Kraw was just a little ‘flat-faced softie’. He would often goad him into fights. There’s a lot more to it, but eventually he and Kraw came to find their similarities, mostly through comforting each other through night terrors and exploring the swamps together.

Although Mayv also saw them like her own sons, she often towed the line between training them like animals and treating them like regular children. She was of course still very loving but it was often muddled by her militant expectations of them out on the ocean. Titus and Kraw worked for Mayv as ‘mer-hounds’, which are marine creatures that are trained to effectively hunt and catch mermaids or other large oceanic game, sort of like how some fishermen would use ducks. That was what the mills were breeding marine creatures for.

As of present day, a lot had gone down between Kraw and his brother, and a lot happened where Kraw had to leave the Shades as well. Kraw doesn’t know what’s become of his brother and whether or not Mayv is even alive. I do plan to get into that.

I can show you a sort of wip I have of him, but he might get a bit of a cleanup? Just because this is older art. I had planned to make growth charts for he and Kraw for a while now. Awkward teenage years and such.

#asks #titus #kraw #oooh backstory #cw child abuse #thank you for the curiosity! :]

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morgansunflower · 10 months

Text

What I Did

Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader

Warnings: suggestive content, explicit language, blood, injuries, and angst

Words:1355

Arthur's notes! Third P. O. V. Loosely based off the comic in which Grayson fakes his death instead this time Bruce does.

Bruce did it to save her. To save his family though now he must mend the hearts that he broke.

The bed was empty but only with the widow alone with only a picture and a memory of his tender face that brought her so much joy.. But now only brought heartbreak. Y/N's hands shake as she clings to her spouses pillow. Her heart felt as though it would stop beating has it heavies so much deeper. She could barley breathe as her chest was tightened. She began to stutter as her emotions raise to her throat, up to her eyes. She tightly closes her eyes as tears seep through. She began to cry as she wishes he would wrap his arms around her and shush her tears. Was she going to never going to feel his heart beating against her own? Would she never feel his heart melting bare skin against her own.

She began to sob "Y-you can't be gone.."

.......

Bruce stood in his black short sleeve shirt, and pants. His bare-feet touching the wooden floor of the temporary safe house. He had faked his death and went undercover at the Spyral agency. After Y/N's identity had been nearly compromised. He couldn't risk her getting killed. So many sleepless nights consumed with remorse that he hurt her. That he hurt his family. He missed the feel of her skin. Her beautiful voice. Her lips. Her kindness that melted his away anxiety and stress. He missed his wife.

Just hours after erasing all evidence of his wife's identity and she was now safe. He was ready to come back home until he found Death-stroke had taken his wife and son.. He rescued them but they were greatly injured.

He softly smiled with a heavy heart, seeing little Robin crouched up, and asleep, with Bruce's Batman cape laid on him. His fever mild though still lingering, his arm's bandaged and a bandaid on his little forehead. He looks to his wife whom was laying on the bed. Her fever less severe than Damian's. Her arms, legs bandaged, a bandaid among her cheek and her shoulders bruised. He feels responsible. He left to protect them but instead it only caused them pain. He wanted to fully break and beg them for forgiveness. He heard soft groaning from Damian. He slowly walked to him. He bends his back to get a better look at his son. He placed his palm on his forehead, his temperature is rising.

"dammit" he muttered under his breath

He stepped to the sink and grabbed a cloth. He turned the sink on and put the cloth in the flowing water. He turned the water off and dampen the cold cloth. He returned to Damian as he coughs. He grabbed the glass that was placed by his chair. He kneeled down, his coughing subsided. He put the glass to his lips. Bruce lift the glass to his baby boy's lips as he drinks the water. Damian opens his tired eyes seeing him, his father. Bruce's heart sinks believing the first reaction he'll likely have, will be anger. His lips shake, his eyes swell and he begins to heavily cry. He reaches and hugs Bruce's neck. His breath hitches, his body still and his heart beat swift. He should be angry, but he's not. Bruce wraps his arms around his little baby boy.

"shh" he whispered though he would not listen

He began to cry more vigorously due to being ill. Bruce lifted him into his strong arms. He buries his head within the crook of his father's neck

"d-dad.. I-I-I thought--" he stutters with a drop of sweat mixed with tears falling from his cheek "you were d-dead"

As if on instinct he gently placed the cloth on his forehead. His crying calmer though still there as he shakes through his throat. His throat will be sore! He grabs the glass of water and put it to his lips again. He takes the glass and drinks the water. As Damian finished, he takes it from him placing it back. Bruce at times forgot how truly small Damian was until he held him. He rest his little cheek on his shoulder. His eyes half closed and cheeks stained by the tears and sweat. Bruce looked shamefully away from his son's pained face. As Damian fell into deep sleep Bruce laid Damian back on the couch. He lays the blanket on him and kisses his face.

Y/N began to stir slowly waking up. Bruce walked to her as her captivating e/c eyes begin opening. She was, taken aback by his presence. Deep down she knew he was not dead but to really see him right in front of her. She looked seeing Damian safely under a blanket on the chair. Bruce gave her a glass of water. She drinks the water and puts the glass down. He leans over to feel her forehead.

"your temperature has subsided" he muttered as his hand lingered

She gripped his wrist a glare in her glassy eyes that breaks his weak heart. How could he?

"where the hell have you been?" her voice hoarse and cracking from her fever. "H-how could you?!" she cried "dammit Bruce how could you hurt me like this? Hurt our family?" her voice pained just as her heart is

"Y/N" he slowly leans to her lips kissing her deeply. He expects her to slap him as he deserves but she didn't "please forgive me" he begged his voice broken

She leans away from his touch "why?.." was all she could say or else she knew she would surely cry.

"I wasn't going to let you die. What I did hurt you, hurt our family but trust me when I say that hurting you like that. Leaving you and our family destroyed me"

As the couple kisses their pained, suffering hearts pour into each others lips... He hears him.

"poor chap" Alfred mummers to his grandson

"how did he--" Bruce stammered wondering how Alfred tripped the servers. Though didn't matter right now.

Bruce steps to the only person left in the world, he could call father. Alfred had never been more angered by his son's actions. Bloody hell he should have told him, he wanted to shout at him and yet all he could do.. Was hug him. Inside Wayne Manor Bruce was approached by the rest of his sons. Grayson looked at Bruce in anger mixed with relief. Jason was angered with a deep feeling of relief. Tim was trying to understand his logic, he did but it still hurt that he lied. Duke was in tears frozen in place from shock he was truly alive, but with his relief he was angered that Bruce hurt him so deeply.

Most times he could say a lot about how he felt but right now.. "how could you do that?" Grayson brokenly said

"it was the only way" he insisted

"shut up!" Jason cried as he let all his buried grief and his festering anger into one punch, to Bruce's jaw. "I went to your damn funeral!! You don't do that to your so--" Jason shouted to his Dad "you don't.. " Jason stammered to overwhelmed with anger.

"we all die. We're all going to die. We have to. But you didn't die. You lied!" Tim said angered with his arms folded.

"I can't believe you did that" Duke stuttered

"you have every right to be angry with me. I did what I believed would spare your mother. If her identity was compromised than so we're all of ours.."

Cassandra came in to see her Dad in the flesh the young girl gasps. She approaches him and to his surprise hugs him.

"YOU'RE ALIVE!! I KNEW IT!! I KNEW YOU WERE ALIVE!!" Stephanie shouted tearfully as she runs to Bruce and hits his arm "I'm still so mad at you for faking your death!"

"I'll second that" Jason snarled

"I didn't want to hurt any of you. I did it for you, for all of you" Bruce said his heart breaking by their faces. He was going to have make amends with all of them, so that he doesn't lose them.

Requested taglist @too-strong-to-lose @asrainterstellar

#batfamily #Fake death #Angst #batfamilyxreader #batman x you #bruce wayne #Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader #Bruce Wayne X Reader #heavy hurt

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skywarpie · 1 year

Text

Reflected Memories

Hey, did you ask for an angsty Trans Copia fic? No? Too bad. Here’s one.

1,544k words. AO3 Link

tw: just lots of angst and body dysmorphia

For as long as he can remember he’s hated the reflection that stares back at him from the mirror. It makes him feel nauseous. The person that stares back at him has never felt like it matches the person that’s inside him. He can remember standing in-front of a mirror when he was a child, no more than ten, and just staring. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t twist that reflection to actually reflect him.

There was a brief while where he considered this a normal occurrence. That it was something that everyone had to deal with. Either that or he was being punished for some unknown reason (which seeing as how his life has played out so far, that really wouldn’t surprise him too much).

He remembers how for the longest time he was addressed as such a “fine young sister.” It leaves an acidic taste in his mouth and Copia finds himself, not for the first time that morning, thinking he’s going to lose what little breakfast he’s consumed.

As he got older things only seemed to get progressively worse. The long hair wasn’t too much of an issue. For a while he had just tucked it into the tightest bun possible, until finally he had asked Primo to help him cut it. His eldest brother was more than happy to oblige.

“You’re sure?” Primo had bent to look him in the eyes. It was almost comical. His nearly six foot figure nearly bent in half to acknowledge his younger sibling.

Copia noded.

“Very well.” And there had been no argument. No trying to talk him out of it. It was arguably the most freeing moment of his short life.

Copia finds himself grimacing as he recalls how Sister Imperator had responded. She hadn’t been angry per-say, but he had received a stern talking to.

“Honestly, I don’t understand why you didn’t bring it to my attention. I would have ensured it was done properly. That someone who knew what they were doing was the one slicing off your hair.”

Someone who did know what they were doing had done just that, Copia had wanted to argue, but like every other time in his life when confronted with issues he had remained silent.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sister waved a hand through the air. “Just make sure that next time you come to me when you want this done. Do I make myself clear, Copola?”

He freezes like he’s just been struck. That name hasn’t entered his mind in decades and the thought of it suddenly makes him feel like the room is spinning. He rubs at his eyes, smearing the black makeup that circles them. He needs to do something, anything to get his mind off of this.

Copia turns on his heel and practically runs from his room, only stopping once he’s in his office where he can lock himself away and focus on mind numbing paperwork. It works – for the most part. But several hours in he finds his body aching from the cramped position and needing a stretch. The growling of his stomach reminds him that he should probably get something to eat as well. He’s still undecided on that one yet.

It’s only once he’s made his way around the ministry gardens a solid three times, does he wind back up in his own room. Some rest. That will help.

Copia wastes no time in stripping himself of his black cassock and exchanging it for a comfortable pair of sweatpants. Carefully he lays the cassock over the back of one of his few chairs. He doesn’t want it to get wrinkled. He makes his way to his closet to find a more comfortable shirt, only he stops dead in his tracks.

He swallows thickly as his reflection once more stares back at him. Stupid. Idiot. Fucking idiot. In his haste earlier Copia forgot to replace the sheet back over the glass. Only this time it’s worse. Last time it was just his lanky form in his cassock. Now it’s him with only his sweats and a bare chest.

Copia isn’t ashamed of the scars that adorn his chest, quite the opposite actually. He’s glad to have them. It shows what he’s been through and how he’s fought tooth and nail to get to where he is today. To be who he is today. It’s just — his body over all. He’s never liked it. Even now, it just doesn’t appeal to him. There’s little to no definition in his arms and there’s the slight pudge to his gut. For more than once in his life he finds himself wishing he looked more like his brothers. Although he knows they’d tell him he’s perfectly fine the way he is, Copia can’t help but feel like they’re taking pity on him.

“Ah, there you are.” Secondo’s deep voice echoed in his ears. “We were beginning to think you’d never leave that room of your’s.” He laughed at his own joke as he straightened his paperwork on his desk. He’d recently been appointed to Cardinal, working directly under Primo. “I know you’d rather spend your time cramped up in there, but honestly —” Whatever he had intended to say had died on his tongue as a gut wrenching sob cut through the air.

Copia sat on the other side of his brother’s desk, head in his hands as he practically curled in on himself. He had wanted to say something sarcastic, play into the typical banter they shared but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. His mouth had opened and a wail had taken the place of words.

Secondo sat rooted to the spot. His brows furrowed and eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. “Sorella.” It’d been said softly but instead of comfort it had only brought more heartache as the man before him tried to curl in on himself even more. He stood, hurrying over to kneel beside him. “I did not intend to upset you. I was only joking.” He placed a comforting hand on Copia’s shoulder.

The younger man had jerked away, his sobbing only growing. For a long moment they both stayed that way until finally Copia had managed to pull himself together just enough to speak. He wiped at his nose, not even bothering to wipe at his eyes. The black makeup there was already tear stained and ruined.

“What is it? You can tell your fratello.”

He had hiccuped so hard that his body jerked. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was hardly above a whisper and Secondo had to strain to hear it.

“Do what?”

Copia knew it was meant as enduring. His brother only wanted to help. That didn’t alleviate his mind in the least. His bottom lip trembled. “Do you ever feel like –” a violent hiccup shook his body. “Like something’s wrong.” He looked down at his hands. “Like you don’t fit.”

His brother’s eyes had softened as did his voice. “I can’t say that I personally have ever felt that way, but I think I know what you’re speaking of.”

And that had been the end of it. Secondo, along with his other two brothers, even his mother, had settled into the change far easier than he had ever imagined they would. Almost immediately he had changed out his wardrobe for far more fitting clothes and changed his name.

“Copia? But that means –”

He interrupted Terzo. “Copy. Si.”

Terzo had scrunched his nose up. “But why that?”

Copia shrugged. “It is not so different sounding from –” he stumbled over his words and swallowed thickly. “From the other name and because I would like to learn to be more like the three of you.” It seemed like the most obvious answer. However his brother’s expression began to slowly make him worried.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to model yourself after us. You’re your own person.”

“Si. If I don’t like it, I will change it again, no?” He shrugged.

Defeatedly Terzo had sighed. “Si.”

Instinctively Copia snatches his cassock from the chair and flings it over the mirror. He settles for just yanking one of his old shirts from a drawer in his dresser and flinging it over himself. From there he shuts off the lights and buries himself in his bed under the heavy quilts. He isn’t tired and more than likely won’t be sleeping tonight. But he feels overwhelmed. Not just by his memories but also from the fact that he can’t even speak about his issues to his brothers anymore. Because they’re gone. Dead. Because of him. If he had just kept his mouth shut and continued living the hell he was in, would they still be here? No, more than likely not. Sister would have simply found another gullible idiot to take his place and they would still be cold in glass coffins. It’s funny really, to think that there’s someone more gullible than him out there.

Copia chokes on a sob as he covers his head with the blankets. He’s not tired but that doesn’t mean he can’t dream of a better time. One where he was who he is today and his brothers still breathed.

#hello i have come to deliver daily angst #the band ghost #okay to reblog i guess #skywarpie writes #ghost band #ghost bc #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv

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velveticamoon · 2 years

Text

CONFESSIONS.

— PETER PARKER X FEM! READER [established relationship]

SYNOPSIS: you’re trying to focus in class, but peter missed you and just wants some of your attention.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: some cursing, but it's mostly just fluff <3

A/N: omg she’s alive 😟 hope y’all haven’t been starving too much while i’ve been gone 😁 anyways i’m back to feed u hungry hungry hippos with some content of my most beloved boy of all time peter parker <3 (there was no incentive behind why i wanted to start writing for him i just am deal with it ♥)

— feedback & reblogs are always appreciated! and without further ado, hope you enjoy, and have a great day ;)

- mimi

mind dizzy, your eyes have a hard time focusing on your professor ranting about his crappy coffee for the umpteenth time that evening, comically waving his arms around in a grumpy manner as he continues to defer from the supposed lecture's topic at hand.

on any other occasion, you would be welcoming the self-provoked intrusion during a lesson; but given the fact that you've been awake since five in the morning, and the clock on your phone screen was now throwing the fact that it was seven p.m in your face, you weren't exactly thrilled by the unexpected extension during this class.

you sigh, blinking your eyes rapidly in a pitiful attempt to keep your eyes open. you hear the lecture hall doors open behind you, and you start to think "who in their right mind would think about showing up now instead of just fucking off for the rest of the night like a normal person??"

the only reason why you were even in this class was because it was "absolutely impossible" for the professor to move it around to a more reasonable hour of the day, plus the added fact that it was mandatory for you to take. you had to remind yourself constantly that this course would only be lasting for six weeks anyways, but your desperate attempts to cheer yourself up didn't ease your exhaustion.

your eyes shifted to the previously unoccupied seat next to you, and you had to do a double take before realizing who it was that sat next to you.

"peter?" you whispered, trying your hardest to keep your voice down. your professor was known for having the ears of a bat, always taking any opportunity he could in order to tell his students to shut up. you were convinced it was one of his greatest sources of happiness, aside from the copious amounts of danishes he consumes.

"hey babe," peter smiled brightly beside you, his hair looking slightly disheveled, no doubt from the rain pouring outside which he probably tried to evade by running through as fast as he could.

"what're you doing here? i'm glad you're here, but i thought we were hooking up later tonight?" you and peter had your weekly movie night reserved for thursdays.

in the earlier stages of your relationship, peter was usually too busy with patrolling most nights, but over time he had realized just how much it was affecting you as much as it was affecting him by not being able to see you. he made it a promise to reserve thursday nights for you and you only, with happy being willing (begrudgingly) to help him out with his shenanigans.

what can he say? he loves you two, especially when it means you're able to preoccupy him for at least one night to give him some peace and quiet.

"my lecture ended early, so i figured i'd come by and visit you and walk you home before we hung out," he said, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it on the back of his chair. he ruffled his hair slightly, and picked up the latte you had in front of you, taking a sip before saying, "plus, i kinda forgot my umbrella, and you always have one on you so i was hoping we could share," he smiled, chuckling when you snatched your coffee back from his cold hands.

"ah, so you only came by to use me and steal my coffee. didn't realize just how materialistic you were parker," you playfully glared at him, and he chuckled before throwing an arm behind your chair, his hand slightly stroking your shoulder before going to play with the ends of your hair.

"you caught me, but it's your fault for making it so easy for me to use you, pretty girl," he squeezed your shoulder, his eyes crinkling from the unamused glance you threw his way.

you scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes and turning them back to your notebook. "my fault, huh? have fun walking back home in the rain with no umbrella then," you tilted your head, holding back your grin when he gasped dramatically, as he reached for both of your shoulders, shaking you lightly in protest at your retort.

"y/n/n, baby, you can't do this to me, if i get sick from the rain you're the one that's gonna be taking care of me, and i know you won't even let me kiss you because you won't wanna get sick- which i one hundred percent condone by the way, because you deserve to be healthy at all times, but still, i won't be able to kiss you because of how stubborn you are," he rambled, pouting as he laid his head on your shoulder.

you turned you head towards him, your right hand coming up to cup his cheek as you playfully whispered, " what gave you the impression that i was gonna kiss you at all after everything you said?"

his head jolted up, his hands grabbing yours as he whined apologies profusely, begging you to forgive him, and you bit your lip to keep yourself from bursting out into laughter.

however, his pleads were stopped abruptly as your professor was now standing in front of the two of you, you both sat up straight, peter's hands still clinging to yours.

"what exactly is so important that the two of you can't wait to disrupt the class over?" his voice boomed, snickers could be heard all throughout the lecture room. peter's eyes were blown wide open, his mouth opened to say something, but you beat him to it.

"sorry sir, we got a little bit distracted, and didn't realize that we were being too disruptive. we'll keep it down from now on," you politely said, the professor was slightly surprised at your composure and how sure you seemed, considering he was so used to students blubbering after being called out so openly. the disappointment in his eyes was almost too noticeable, and it left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

he nodded curtly, and started walking back down towards the monitor at the front of the room, continuing on with his lecture.

you sighed lightly, and peter was finally able to take note of just how tired you looked. your hair was a little disheveled, and the way your eyes were drooping slightly, paired with the increased amount of coffee you'd been drinking the past few days was concerning to him.

he wanted to comfort you, but knew that talking was out of the question. "y/n wasn't kidding when she said he hears everything, i don't think i was even being that loud, was i??"

his eyes trailed down towards your notebook that hadn't been touched in quite a while, it seems. he lifted your hand up off of it, and you didn't think twice when he took it from under your arm, along with your pencil sitting next to it.

your focus was trained back on the lecture at hand, and that gave peter the perfect opportunity to write down some of his thoughts to you.

a couple moments later, he tapped your arm, pointing to your notebook where the words 'are u ok?' were written in his messy handwriting.

you smiled lightly at his gesture, taking the pencil from him and writing back, 'yeah, i'm fine, he just drains me,' before turning back to the monitor.

peter thinks for a second, and presses the pencil back down to the paper, his now damp hair flopping over his eyes in the process. he pushes the notebook back to you, and you look down where it says 'i can tell, and how are we the ones being disturbing when he can barely keep himself focused on anything like wtf??'

you snorted at that, grabbing the pencil from him when he passed it to you, his head leaning over your hand as you wrote, 'i kid you not, before you came in he spent a good 25 minutes complaining about the temperature of his coffee, and how he could tell the beans weren't organically processed due to the greater amount of bubbles around the rim of the cup, and how their appearance was more prolonged than normal.'

peter looked at you incredulously, whispering the word "seriously?" when you nodded, he blinked slowly, letting out a slight huff at the perplexity of your professor.

'damn, this dude really needs to get laid' peter wrote, smiling at the way you giggled. his heart felt warm whenever he managed to make you smile.

you scribbled something else on the page, peter eyeing you curiously. when you turned the paper over to him, he smiled and tilted his head, resting it on his palm knowingly as he read your words.

'so, you still haven't told me why you really came by?' you looked at him with your eyebrows slightly raised, and he couldn't help but stare at you endearingly before grabbing the hand that held your pencil, guiding it as he made you write the words he was unable to say out loud due to the very nosy professor scouring the lecture room.

'i just missed you :)' he confessed, and you smiled softly, putting the pencil down, and lacing your fingers with his that were wrapped around your own, propping your other arm up on the table to hold your own head up, looking into his eyes.

"you're so cheesy," you whispered, nothing but pure adoration pouring through your words, as peter brought the back of your hand up to his lips, placing multiple light pecks along your knuckles.

"only for you, bug," he whispered back, as he leaned his head forward to place one more kiss on your temple, nuzzling his nose against the side of your head, eyes shut as he took in a whiff of your hair, letting his head rest there for a while.

you pulled your intertwined hands up to your own lips to place a sweet kiss on the back of his hand in return, holding them underneath your chin as you re-focused on the lecture.

he was an idiot for always showing up at the worst times. but you had to confess, that despite all those terrible times? he somehow managed to make them all feel not so bad.

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liesonthefloordramatically · 4 months

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A wild 2023 recap post appears!

Stuff I made this year:

Fiction: Nope. Work continues to consume me. I DID write like 33k that maybe will be publicly accessible in the future, but who can say.

Playlists: I think the only two I remembered to share were Oleander (a playlist for my Wickedness character) and the vast and the void (what it says on the tin).

RPGs: Also a nope.

Knitting: Made a shawl! And a hat, technically, that I forgot to take pictures of.

Other stuff: Taught 5 classes, 4 of which were new preps! Did fieldwork in Japan for the first time since 2019! Gave an hour-long talk in Japanese! Presented on two conference panels! Finished two academic book reviews! Survived somehow! The period between August and December sort of doesn’t exist in my memory? I was doing things but almost all of those things were work, so. The isolation has been wearing on me, but with the combination of A. not having any time to do anything other than work and B. for Various Reasons questioning whether I want to stay at this job, it's been really hard to build local community. I'm going to try to work on that next year, but also I'm going to have two new preps again in the fall and one of my spring classes is already overenrolled, so who knows how effective that'll be.

Media I enjoyed this year:

Books: I read 46 books this year apparently! Top picks in no particular order: The Singing Hills Cycle (embarrassingly my jam), The Southern Reach Trilogy (shocking that it took me this long to read this), My Own Devices (even MORE shocking that it took me this long to read this), Imperial Radch (so AGGRESSIVELY my jam), She Who Became the Sun (this was a hilarious accompaniment to one of my fall classes), Camp Damascus (read this on a plane back from Japan which was An Experience), The Tale That Twines (loved the first book; the second book is even better), System Collapse (yeah, no one is surprised that I loved this).

TTRPG: Wickedness! This was the only new TTRPG I played this year, but it was really good.

Video games: Mask of the Rose and Saltsea Chronicles, both of which I want to/should poke at more. Special nod to 13 Sentinels which we enjoyed 90% of a lot.

Manga/comics: I think the only thing I read was The JOJOLands?

Fanfic: I didn’t actually wind up reading that much fanfic this year again, in part because I was reading so many books. A few picks, in no particular order: The Gardener (CR C2), Keys to the Castle (CR C2), Whistle Song (CR C2), pieces of (you) me (CR C2), Descriptions of a River Flowing (CR C2), Slip the Blindfold (CR C2), Heart to Heart (JJBA: JJL--PLEASE read this if you care about JJL at all), riverside beatitudes (JJBA: SDC), Fully formed, ready to run (ExU: Calamity). Honorable mention to Asking for More (Stranger of Paradise), which is a WIP but made me laugh so hard I hit myself in the face with my phone.

Films: I actually watched like eight movies this year! All but two of the new ones on a plane, to be fair, but. Top picks: Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse and Shoplifters (『万引き家族』). Honorary mention to Suzume.

TV: Finally finished Stone Ocean! It was good! Rowan and I are also like halfway through catching up on TGCF and it is also very good.

Podcasts: Continued to listen to way too many of these. Top picks: The Silt Verses, Trice Forgotten, Within the Wires (hey can we talk about the newest season? truly wild), and Re: Dracula. Honorable mentions to The Evaporated: Gone with the Gods, 『なんかIWAKAN！』 (WHICH IS TRAGICALLY ENDING???? where am I supposed to get my chaotic Japanese gender and sexuality discussion now :(((((), Cry Havoc! Ask Questions Later, Critical Role, and Worlds Beyond Number.

Music: Dessa's Bury the Lede was excellent, of course. I also apparently listened to Maisie Peters' The Good Witch a lot (it was in my grading rotation in October). And then this past month there's been a lot of Hozier's Unreal Unearth. But a lot of my listening this year was either albums on the bus (rotating mainly between Quiet Company’s We Are All Where We Belong, Bury the Lede, yorushika’s entire discography that I can purchase, Wednesday Campanella, and various soundtracks) or putting something on loop and falling into a fugue state. Apparently my top song of the year on Spotify was “Square One,” which I think I put on looping while grading in the spring. My Spotify top songs list was even more inexplicable than usual this year.

Anyway, あけおめ！！！良いお年を！！！ (or else!!!!)

#a wild annual recap appears #Queenie actually says something on this blog

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doodles-of-a-nerd-kid · 1 year

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and by "stuff" I meant this

sudden realization that this comic was not posted alongside my artwork and was scheduled to post Thursday?? So posting now lol

seriously, I think i forgot how time consuming comics were but it was fun drawing lol

i had an excuse to draw them kissing hhheheheheheh

#cave story #quote (cave story)#curly (cave story)#quorly #doodlins #uwu #pocky day #pocky game #digital fanart #fan comic

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tangleddd · 4 months

Note

For the teasing/upcoming projects ask!! ^_^ ❄️, 🌤️, 🌧️ annndd ☔

ask game for teasing wips/upcoming projects - send an emoji and I’ll answer!

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Louise asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Tell you what?" he asked.

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, an adventure," she murmured, watching him carefully as she quoted his own words at him. "and even a little danger."

The compulsion.

She remembers, he realised with a start, his eyes widening in surprise. He hadn't thought about that night in years. "You remember." he stated.

Louise nodded. "One of the highlights of my transition. You were a stranger that told me you wanted me to get everything I wanted from life. So, why didn't you tell me, Damon? Over a year and it never crossed your mind to let me know that 'by the way, I compelled you this one time'."

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"I forgot." he admitted, watching her eyes widen comically with shock.

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

"So, what do I taste like?" she asked, craning her neck to look at him. "To you."

"Blood," he answered with amusement as her brow crinkled into a frown of confusion. "What? Were you expecting me to wax poetic and say that you tasted like a fine wine?"

"No," she replied with a rueful grin as she rolled her eyes. Propping her elbow on the pillow they were sharing, she rested her head against her fist as she struggled to articulate her feelings. "I just...thought maybe it...that it somehow tastes different for you." She dropped her gaze as a blush crept up her cheeks. "I guess I just hoped that this whole thing wasn't one-sided."

"One-sided?"

"Yeah, you know," she shrugged, her gaze darting around the room, landing on everything but on his face. "I've been bitten by a few vampires and, obviously with you it's...unique."

"Unique?" he repeated, recalling the orgasm that had ripped through her when he's slipped inside of her and sank his fangs into her throat. "Is that your way of admitting you get off on it?"

"Shut up." she muttered, flushing even brighter shade of red as she buried her face against his shoulder.

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

"You're damn right I won't." Damon vowed, wondering if Louise knew that every time they had this conversation - and it seemed to come up whether Bonnie had her stupid dream or not - her assertions that he'd never turn her sounded more and more like a challenge. Like on some level, she was dying for him to argue and prove her wrong.

She had no idea just how badly he wanted to do exactly that.

Louise was coming around the idea of forever and no matter how many time he told himself that she wasn't serious - not completely - he was finding it harder to believe in the impossibility. He wanted her to turn and if she kept pushing the idea there might come a day in the too near future when he wouldn't be able to tell her no.

And he had to tell her no. She wasn't ready.

She hopped down from the counter and inched closer to him. "Have you ever considered-"

"No." He replied, emphatically.

"Damon, you don't even know what I was going to say." She responded incredulously.

"I don't need to." He declared, finally look at her.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you’d like to just explain and share because you’re not sure you’ll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Erm, I have this idea for a Klaus/oc fic, where the oc is a witch and she meets Klaus when he moves to New Orleans. Would really have to think how she would fit into the originals and how to navigate that!

#oc ask game #answered

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gaknar · 2 years

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Review: Claremont’s Final Chapter

Well this is it. This is the last review I’m going to write for this blog. It covers the last chunk of Chris Claremont’s original run on Uncanny X-Men, along with the crossovers and spinoffs that accompany it. I was thinking that this was going to be a lot more comics, because I completely forgot that I already wrote a review covering the big three X-Men crossovers from the 1980s (Mutant Massacre, Fall of the Mutants, and Inferno). How does that happen? How do I just completely forget that I did bunch of work on a review that’s barely two years old? I’ll tell ya how. Early onset Alzheimer’s. Or maybe I’m busy and not as focused on this blog as I used to be. Nowadays it’s all I can do to keep my queue from emptying out while doing one post a day. I’m a shadow of my former hilarious self. But I still want to tie a bow on what I’ve been doing here for the past seven years, and I guess that’s kind of what this is. I set out with a goal, to read every X-Men comic ever written. How that was to be defined, I didn’t know, but at the very least it was going to include everything up to the end of Claremont’s big run, which I have now accomplished. I’m anxious to keep reading, but I think I’m done writing for now, and maybe indefinitely. I dunno. I haven’t decided yet and I don’t want to speak in absolutes. Only a Sith speaks in absolutes.

I mean how am I gonna be reading this and not be sprinting to my blog to shit post about it. It’s just not possible. I can’t call my mom and troll. “Yeah ma and then they did that shit where they smash the cake in each other’s faces and I puked all over everything! No ma, this was in a comic! A comic!”

For posterity sake, this reading and review cover the following:

Uncanny X-Men #244-279 New Mutants #74-100 X-Factor #40-70 Excalibur #8-25 X-Force #1-4 X-Men Volume 2 #1-3 Days of Future Present Crossover Kings of Pain Crossover

This collection of comics is the most nostalgic for me. I didn’t start collecting Uncanny X-Men until around issue #250. I was a late comer. I had already missed the best stuff. But the X-Men were still at the top of their game, and this particular run represents the exact set of comics that captivated me as a child. I’m biased toward them. This is generally considered to be the weakest part of Chris Claremont’s 17 year long run, but I cannot find the objectivity to agree with this statement. And during this reading, where I actually got to read everything that lead up to this point in time for the X-Men instead of being cluelessly dropped into the middle of it and not even knowing how to pronounce a lot of the characters names, I found these stories to be even more enjoyable.

When I was a kid, I thought Psylocke was pronounced Pisey-locke. I thought Rogue was Roe-goo. One of my older brother’s friends heard me saying that shit and he laughed his ass off at me.

Tell me what’s wrong with this story. The X-Men have become legends, both in story and in real world pop culture, but then their team is decimated. Storm is killed. Colossus, Rogue, Psylocke, Havok, and Dazzler are consumed by Siege Perilous. Wolverine is captured and broken by an alliance of villains he personally carved into cyborgs during his previous adventures. And Longshot is . . . well nobody remembers what happened to Longshot. And with growing threats rising from all over the world, it’s left to the X-Men’s fourth string, students, and attendants to continue the fight. This was a dire time for the comic, and I think for many it deviated too far from what they had grown comfortable with. These characters were real for a lot of people, and they had been scattered, their family destroyed. There was a sense of tragedy and trauma. A great loss of safety and security for characters that were written so intimately they felt like close friends you visited once a month. But I loved it. These were my first X-Men stories. I was only beginning to form my bonds with these characters, and that process was aided by the narrative drive to see them reunited. For a kid in the 4th grade, this was Shakespearian.

And then Jim Lee came along and ruins everything.

No I didn’t cover the swimsuit issue. I mean, this is it. Here, I’m covering it. Look, Logan’s a never nude.

I mean, how can I say that. I actively concede that Jim Lee is the best X-Men artist. And that comes after years of maintaining this blog and meticulously reading every X-Men comic that was released, and falling in love with the work of Barry Windsor Smith.

Bill Sienkiewicz

Paul Smith.

Marc Silvestri.

And John Byrne was ok I guess.

In my opinion, as much as I love all those other artists, none of them can touch Jim Lee’s work on X-Men. They are all phenomenally gifted, but Jim Lee was somehow transcendent on a whole other level. And when his talent swirled with the particular aesthetic of the Uncanny X-Men, magic happened. Something new came into existence that permanently imprinted itself onto our pop culture.

From the characters themselves to crazy alien space-tech, you just can’t beat Jim Lee.

How is it then, that these were the comics, the last issues of Claremont’s run, that killed my interest in the series when I was younger? Claremont was still writing the scripts, but it was clear that something catastrophic had happened behind the scenes. Something was terribly broken. And as much as I wanted to assume that it was all in my head, that there couldn’t have been any hurt feelings because Claremont would return some day, and he would even go on to work with Jim Lee again on other projects, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. I just watched the Comics In Focus documentary about Chris Claremont, and he tearfully describes his feelings at the time as being “betrayed.” You can feel that in the writing, and it does not make for good entertainment. The final few issues of this run are conflicted and strained, and tedious in their pacing. So unlike the effortless storytelling the series had become known for.

Reading these comics again all these years later brings back memories of why I quit collecting in the first place. By the very end of Chris Claremont’s run, after his narrative plans had been derailed by Jim Lee and their editors, the Uncanny X-Men weren’t stunning anymore. They didn’t stick in my brain and leave me awake at night with a mind full of wonder. They only left me with apathy. This is in contrast to how I felt when I first started reading the series and every issue was a revelation. But I can distinctly remember attempting to read X-Force #1 a second time, searching for some hook to keep me engaged, and there was nothing there. It was an empty, shallow experience that made me question whether I had outgrown the hobby. X-Men Volume 2 reinforced those concerns.

“The writer.” He can’t even be bothered to invoke his name. I’m just going to transcribe this part of the documentary and make some observations. “Comics were boring. Even Marc Silvestri, he’ll admit, he got bored.” This motherfucker thinks the X-Men were just dull as shit until he came along and saved the whole fucking thing. JFC. “Marc had already done the book for like, four or five years. And, but it’s not a job you, you don’t leave that job. It’s the best-selling comic.” This motherfucker thinks THE BEST SELLING COMIC, THE COMIC MORE PEOPLE WERE READING THAN ANY OTHER COMIC IN EXISTENCE was boring until he came along and saved the whole fucking thing. “And the writer had been on it for 15 years. You don’t think he’s burned out?” No Rob, it’s clear he wasn’t burnt out, and you deprived us of another 3-5 years of amazing comics. “It was like hey, the X-Men girls go shopping.” Hey I liked that issue. “In the next issue, the guys go to the mall.” That didn’t even happen! You drew that god damned book and you can’t even remember what it was about!! “And you’re like, this isn’t the X-Men I grew up loving! Where’s Magneto, where’s the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants!? Where’s the stuff that’s gonna psyche me out?” Oh, like fucking Strife and Strobe and Thumbellina? Did that shit psyche you out Rob??

I have given up on X-Men three different times in my life. The first was in 1992, a direct result of the conflict that arose between Claremont and these idiot artists who would stick around for less than a year for abandoning the franchise completely, leaving it in shambles. Looking back at my collection, I made it to issue #7 of X-Men Volume 2 and I was done. The buildup to Onslaught brought me back in 1996, in particular the famous cover proclaiming someone had stopped the Juggernaut which I found in a back issue bin. But I did not last long, only seeing that storyline through and losing interest again by the time Heroes Reborn got underway and it was clear that the clowns in charge didn’t actually have any interesting story ideas past the initial Onslaught concept. Finally, in 2001 it was the one-two punch of Grant Morrison’s new X-Men and Claremont’s own X-Treme X-Men that brought me back one more time. And this time I stuck with it for a good 10 years before a combination of Brian Michael Bendis and Marvel’s agenda to bury the X-Men killed my interest in modern X-Men comics to this day.

I could not stand the idea of the original teenage X-Men becoming the main characters again. There was no blander, more basic concept in my opinion. Other than that shit Rob Liefeld came up with in X-Force.

Despite this on again off again relationship, the X-Men have always been with me. I have always wanted to stay engaged with what was going on in their lives. And that led to the creation of this blog. I wanted to start reading again, but the only way to do that was to start at the beginning and go from there. And I’ve loved reading almost every comic I read for this blog. Analyzing and summarizing each issue allowed me to recreate the experience of reading these comics as a kid, when I read each comic 5 or 6 times through the course of the month as I anticipated the release of the next and finally moved on. That reading pace is very hard to emulate in the age of collected editions, where we might instead read several issues in a single sitting and never look back again. It’s a completely different experience.

But going forward, I don’t think it’s going to be so important. I’m not going to want to linger on Scott Lobdell’s writing, or Rob Liefeld’s garbage artwork. I’m not going to want to struggle to think of something interesting to say about comics I’m apathetic toward. I’m going to keep reading, but I don’t know to what extent, if any, I’ll comment on them here.

Again, I don’t know how I’m going to be reading this shit and not need someone to talk to about it. So don’t completely give up on me.

I recently read through Sandman for the first time, in tandem with reading X-Men comics for this blog. It was obviously very good, but it was also very dense and challenging, and it took forever since I was splitting my comic book time with blog tasks. Then I finally read the deluxe volumes of Saga I’ve owned for years but haven’t had time to read. Compared to Sandman they were a light, breezy walk through a sunny, petal soaked field. It made me excited to read some more of the independent books I've collected over the years. Oh and there’s also these.

I’m way overdue here. I bought all these books and have yet to crack any them open. But every single day they call to me. But of course I can’t start with these. I’m going to read Hickman’s Fantastic Four first, and then his Avengers, and then Secret Wars, and THEN I’ll read these. The time has come for me to start reading modern X-Men again.

In case you can’t tell, this review is also serving as a retrospective for this blog in general. Sorry to spring that on you. I really, really appreciate those who read along with me, corrected my mistakes, offered better insights than I could come up with, and explained the shit that went straight over my head. It wasn’t like reading these comics in a vacuum like I did when I was a kid. It was like being part of an awesomely nerdy reading group. I appreciated every single like and comment you made, and those who stuck with me for an extended period. I saw every engagement you made, even if that wasn’t obvious. I don’t know if this will be my last post, but this is it for now. Thanks everyone.

#xmfbte #clare5 #review

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fanficcrow · 10 months

Text

Keep it Quiet

Librarian!Thor x fem gn!reader

645 wk

No use of Y/N

Please repost and give feedback!

WARNINGS

smutty book

creepy Thor (only if you squint)

A/N: Heyyy!!! I’m going with Thor’s comic book height for this because 6’6 makes my knees go weak <3

(Also sorry I haven’t written for a month, I forgot how to type <33)

Hoooool-y shit.

You walk into the library and come face-to-face with the hottest man you’ve ever seen. Not only is he impossibly tall, seriously HOW can a man be that tall???, He’s also dripping in muscles.

And those clothes. You’d expect a gorgeous buff man to at least dress bad, to balance the universe, but apparently he didn’t get the memo. Because standing right in front of you is 6’6 of sinfully tight turtleneck and a felted coat that would send you straight to hell.

You snap out of your fangirl-esque stupor and realize he is looking right. At. You. Ah fuck. He’s got a confused look on his face that makes your blush run all the way to your ears and down your neck. I’m sure people come in and stare at him all the time, no biggie! You’re sure he won’t even remember you…. right?

Before you can be too consumed by embarrassment you break eye contact with him and scurry off into the library to go look at the books. Hopefully you’ll never have to see him again and everything will be fine!

You shake off all the thoughts of the mystery hottie and start looking for books. You aren’t proud of it, but you’ve taken to reading erotica. Ever since you and Eric broke up you found that the books would light a certain fire deep inside you. One could say you’d even become addicted to the feeling. You were just glad that most libraries had self checkout scanners. Saved you from weird looks and from human interaction!

You find a book with a promising cover and flip it open to a random page.

James held a tight grasp on her ponytail as he slowly entered her from behind. Her wanton moans filled his ears as he picked up the pace-

“Hello dove, anything I can do to help you?”

You yelped and slammed the book shut, before spinning around and pressing your back to the bookshelf. “Oh my lord you scared me!!” You sighed, and then looked up, your breath catching in your throat. Ohhhhhh fuck. It’s him. The hot librarian. And he just caught you reading erotica in a public library.

“Apologies dove, that wasn’t my intention!” He laughs quietly. “I have never seen you here before and it’s my job to help set people up!” He motions to the shiny gold name tag on his chest and you kick yourself mentally.

Oh of course that’s why he’s over here. Your paranoia had almost convinced you that he knew what you were looking for and he was gonna kick you out.

“Oh, um yeah! Is there an online application or something? I’d hate to bother you but if there’s a terminal here I can use that would be great.”

Thor chuckles and leans on the shelf above you. “Afraid not little dove, I’m all you got.” He threw a rakish grin and a wink your way and you felt your face burn up. His arm above you had made you extremely aware of how much taller he was up close, and how much smaller this aisle was when there were two people in it.

"Besides" The word yanks your eyes up to his, meeting them for the first time up close. His eyes were a blue so intense you swear you see flickers of lighting in them. "You'll need an account to check out that book you've been hiding behind your back this whole conversation." You gape at him in shock as he deftly swipes the book from your hand and looks at the cover. He glances up at you. "What, don't tell me you thought I didn't see this? I work here, I know what section we're in."

"I- You? You knew??" You asked, bewildered. You hadn't heard anyone approach you earlier so how?

"You were very busy reading. I caught a few paragraphs over your shoulder little dove, you have great taste in literature."

⚡️

This was kinda a drabble but it slayed soooo

#thor #marvel thor #marvel thor x reader #thor x reader #librarian thor #chris hemsworth #thor in a turtleneck #thor fanfic #marvel #drabble #fanficcrow writes

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gaykarstaagforever · 4 months

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1969

Jim Shooter wrote this, so it is significantly less idiotic than most of these.

That said...

Most of the plot - Superman and the Flash having amnesia and thinking each is the other one - hinges on the fact that they are identical men, except with different hair. Which seems implausible, since one is a magical alien with super-strength from the Sun, and the other is a nerd who was near exploding go-fast chemicals. But I guess it at least acknowledges how DC artists could only draw one muscley man over and over again in different skin-tight unitards. Fair enough, Jim.

We also get the weirdest random explanation for where Superman stores his Clark Kent clothes:

Clark Kent and Barry Allen spend most of the story running back and forth from Central City to Metropolis, desperately trying to find each-other to figure out what the hell is happening. Barry uses makeup to look like Clark Kent and gets almost-fired by Perry White for being bad at reporting on weddings. Because while this comic takes time to remind us Barry is a "police scientist," Perry also says he writes like a child.

Which...I mean, seems kind of rude to me, especially coming from someone who writes superhero comics for 8 year olds for a living. But I don't solve murders with science. So if you do, please confirm if you and your colleagues don't know how to write.

Eventually, Clark and Barry accidentally meet clandestinely on a Metropolis park bench. But Barry is dressed like Raphael from the Ninja Turtles, so they still don't figure it out:

...Why does this look like something someone drew from a picture they took from a bush? Is that just me? That might just be me.

This, however, is 100% exactly what it looks like:

They finally meet in an abandoned train tunnel and figure out each is the other, and trade clothes.

So it is canon in DC comics that Clark Kent and Barry Allen have been nude together in a train station, at least once. And then traded underpants.

Clark suddenly remembers what happened to them (possibly from the shock of being naked with Barry Allen; the comic breezes over this). There is giant space seed flying towards Earth, carrying the spore of a monster space plant that will grow to consume all life. Superman saw it and summoned the JLA to help him, but only the Flash showed up, because "Green Lantern is off helping Hawkman," and...I guess Jim forgot who else was in the JLA at the time.

Good on Barry for showing up, but how exactly is he going to help Superman stop a threat that is still in Space?

Answer: he is not. But Superman came up with a plan where he and Barry changed outfits to confuse the space seed (yes, really), and then Barry put on a helmet and Clark flew them both into it.

...At which point he suddenly realized it had kryptonite in it. He and Barry fell to Earth, unharmed but with amnesia.

But now that they're inexplicably cured by re-switching pants, it is time to hurry up and actually stop the space seed. Superman draws Barry a helpful diagram of his plan:

...Thanks, Kal-El. Totally worth the time it took to do that.

Assuming, like me, you have no goddamn idea what his plan is, think of the absolute dumbest way Superman could save the Earth from a giant kernel of space-corn. And that is exactly what he does:

He temporarily stops the Earth by making the ground really hard (specifically in Brazil, for some reason), and then repeatedly doing flying elbow drops onto it. Which, I won't lie, is exactly the awesome way all problems would be solved if we lived in a better universe where wrestling was real, and wrestlers were Superman.

...I still assume this probably killed at least a few people. Or fish, at least, on the daylight side where the Sun suddenly boiled an entire ocean.

Also, note how this "new" Superman plan ALSO DIDN'T INVOLVE THE FLASH WHATSOEVER. Except that he came along and narrated it for our benefit, while Superman was repeatedly smashing himself into Brazil.

The story ends with Barry hugging his wife and Clark musing to himself how he and Barry can trust each-other with their secret identities from now on, because their balls sweat into the same Spandex for like a week.

Implying that, what, the members of the JLA go into that WITHOUT knowing who each-other are? I mean, I of course see Batman pulling shit like that. But Wonder Woman and Hawkman barely have secret identities to begin with.

But I guess if Clark and Barry have exactly the same proportions and faces, maybe it doesn't really matter either way.

This issue also features the following ad for jeans:

I don't know if cattle-rustling was still such a huge problem in the West by 1969. But if you are a teen boy keen to take it upon yourself to stop it, I suppose it makes sense you should make sure your butt looks good while doing it.

Also, if you need more cheap plastic armies in your house,

#superman #silver age comics #comic book cover #1969 #dc comics #gay

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phlebasphoenician · 1 year

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I don’t know how to phrase this ask properly 😭 but how do you like… know nart and write fics when u’ve not read or watched it? I’m so confused. (I don’t mean this rudely or anything I’m genuinely????? Because there is So much. How????? Im actually flabbergasted this is so wild to me😭 😭 😭)

Don't worry, I'm not offended! I've been asked this before and I'm always happy to talk about it.

The short answer is that I don't need to know canon to feel comfortable in a fandom space or to consume the works made by and for that fandom.

The long answer is much, much longer so I'm putting it behind a cut.

There are two parts to why I'm like this, and the first one is the fandom I started out in.

My first fandom was the X-Men and I began with the very first X-Men comic - The X-Men #1. (Yes, it was published in 1963. Yes, I'm fandom old… 🤣) From there I jumped to the wider Marvel comics universe as a whole.

And with every new storyline, with every change in the creative team, I just accepted the stories as they came.

When people died, often several times over (Jean Grey, I am looking at you), when they time travelled, met their alternate selves, became villains, became heroes, changed their costumes/personalities/de-aged/became old/got married/forgot they were married/pretended they forgot they were married (Vision, whyyyyyy), I just kept reading.

I got used to the idea that the characters were always the same characters but that they'd be constantly changing, be written differently by every new writer, and that they were always in flux.

This meant that - to me - canon wasn't a stable static thing. No, it was a fluid amorphous collection of ideas, simultaneously recognised by creators, publishers, and fans alike.

Because fans have always had an impact on comics.

Dead characters come back because fans want to read about them again and creators are keen to make it happen. Characters are redeemed to become heroes or fall to become villains because fans want to read those stories and creators want to tell them. Characters get spin off mini-series (and sometimes whole series) because fans will buy those comics.

Fans are a crucial part of the creative process.

I've always accepted transformative work - because what else is a new creative team coming in to make Jane Foster the new Thor but a stunning piece of transformative work? - as an equal to canon.

Because, to me, it is.

I consume both kinds with equal facility and ease, without thinking of either as less than the other.

Here's the second part - I will follow professional creators from story to story, from series to series, and enjoy it because I like their style.

I won't like every work, probably not, but there's a high probability that I will enjoy at least some of them and I'll buy those works because of it.

Because I like Honor Harrington, I've also read David Weber's Safehold series. Because I like the Valdemar series by Mercedes Lackey, I've also read her Heirs of Alexandria series and her Five Hundred Kingdoms stories. Because I love Sandman, I've also read Good Omens (multiple times, it is excellent), Neverwhere, Stardust, and American Gods. Because I love Summer Wars, I've also made it a point to watch other films by Mamoru Hosoda, including Wolf Children and Mirai. I fell in love with Inception and then went on to watch other Christopher Nolan films - some were to my taste (Dunkirk, The Dark Knight Rises) and others were not, but I still try and catch them in cinemas where I can.

I don't think that's unusual behaviour.

But I also treat fan work in exactly the same way.

I'll follow a fan author from fandom to fandom, reading stories to see if the new fandom is to my taste. Sometimes, it's not - no harm, no foul, kink tomato - but all to often it is, and that is entirely because of the strength of that author's writing.

Most of the time I don't even touch canon - why would I when I'm here for this author's particular interpretation of it? I don't need to know canon when the author builds the world of their story so beautifully it stands on its own.

And, if by chance the fandom is so much to my taste that I want to consume other works in it, there are other fan work creators! All of them easily accessible! It's marvellous!

I never worry that the works I'm reading are out of character for canon, because I don't care about canon.

For me, reading fanfiction is just like reading original fiction.

Now writing it is quite another matter.

I didn't know that I was going to be writing in the Naruto fandom. My first story in this fandom was supposed to be a 1600 word joke fill for a prompt that wouldn't leave me alone.

But hey, somehow, people asked me what happened next, I knew the answer so I wrote it, and then the whole thing snowballed.

That meant that my ideas of how the world of Naruto worked and what the characters were like was entirely based around fanfiction I'd read.

I acknowledged that at the end of Escape and Evade:

I always intended for this to be a little story, written just for me, because I couldn’t get a drabble from nirejseki and a comment from YumiStar out of my head.

But, along the way, it’s become a bit more than that for me.

I haven’t written fan fiction since 2005 and this has stretched me in ways that I’m not even sure I know yet.

And it’s in a fandom whose cannon I have never actually watched or read.

Which means that my understanding of these characters who I have come to love, is based entirely on the amazing work of the authors who put their time and effort into sharing their stories with the world.

This story is quite literally my love letter to Founders Era Naruto Fandom.

Truly, my little effort stands on the shoulders of giants.

So here I am, and Courting Culture Confusion has become a 648,934 word reboot of Naruto (it's still not over, I'm still publishing a new chapter daily) which means that I have to think about canon! Because how can I reboot it when I don't know what's going on?

And the answer to that is I ask other fans.

As with most fandoms, all I have to say is "I'm thinking about writing this character, would anyone care to tell me what they're like?" and at least six people will pop up to give me their opinions. From there, I'll try and figure out how to make them into a cohesive whole that also matches with what's available in narutopedia (thank you to everyone who works on that, I could not write without it as a handy reference!) and then I sit down to write.

It's really that simple.

So how can I write without knowing canon?

Because you know canon and you're willing to tell me.

Thank you. 💚

#asks answered #ask me anything anytime #send me asks #fans on fandom #phlebas blogs her writing #naruto #okay to reblog

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