#I listened to two Distractible episodes while drawing this

[amidoobles]

"Picture? Woah- wait- HOLD ON"

Drawing of my OC, Lottie, Getting a picture taken of her against her will.

Holy cow, the anatomy was ridiculously hard on this drawing. I thought I was never going to get those arms right.

Honestly? This entire illustration was a struggle. The anatomy, the background, the coloring, but I think it turned out well in the end. I wanna do more illustrations with backgrounds in the future. It's just really hard.

[themotherofhorses]

you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me)

summary: to you, he is fictional. but to him, you are everything and more. he can't live without you. and, really, there is no use in trying to run away, he'll always find you.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. noncon to dubcon. abduction. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part. breeding kink. slight spitting kink. pregnancy.

note: hey this is me practicing writing smut because ive never ever done it before and i don't know jackshit like wtf is a dick hahaha im dreading posting this hahahasendhelpplshaha

masterlist | series masterlist

part two | part three | part four | part five

How did you end up here?

That was all you could ask yourself, over and over again.

It had only been hours ago, maybe, that you were sitting at home, rewatching the first season of House of the Dragon for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Perhaps you dozed off on the couch too, but that was it. You have heard of shifting techniques before- ways to visit your favorite fictional worlds- but you never sought to try them out yourself.

College left you too busy with assignments and textbook readings, as well as the constant and unwavering pressure to maintain both your scholarships and high GPA.

Ever the dutiful and driven daughter, hungry for academic validation and success.

Oh, fuck, your scholarships!

Your GPA!

All those assignments and discussions and exams!

And what about your family? Your mother and father? And your best friend?

Aemond Targaryen seems not to understand your words, and why you tell, beg, and plead for him to let you go. “Please, I need to go home,” you cry loudly, while yanking at the thick knots that bound you to his bedframe, “please! My family, my friends. They will be worrying when they don’t hear from me, and all my hard work and accomplishments, it will be for nothing! Please, I beg you, let me go home.”

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead and says, “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m your family now. Or what is of it.” His lips feel so soft and wonderful, and how desperately you wish to enjoy the feeling. But not like this. You cannot think properly nor muster any sort of response, too distracted and stressed and focused on calming your breathing.

“Although,” he then adds with a smirk, “it truly is not considered a family until you have a babe of your own…or two.”

At his words, you tremble and whimper and try your best to break free, though it is all in stupid and foolish vain. There is no going anywhere, the knots are too tight and Aemond can easily overpower you. All you can do is stare up at the man you once considered your favorite character in the series, ever since the eighth episode aired and he stole your heart and soul and burrowed himself deep within your most inner thoughts and fixation.

“Do not worry,” he says, and you can see a twinkle in the violet of his eye. He rests a hand on your collarbone, gently drawing little shapes across the skin. “Good things will come out of this night, my love, I promise you that.”

Look on the bright side, you tell yourself, in some dumb attempt to steel your nerves, better Aemond Targaryen to lose your virginity to.

“You need to be quieter, my darling-” Aemond murmurs close to your ear “-we do not need curious ears listening in, do we?” He has you riding him, both hands clutching your hips as you do your best to bounce on his cock and match his thrusts. You’re sloppy and inexperienced, and a bit confused on what exactly to do, but it is so endearing that his lips curl into a grin.

Oh, you were made for me, he thinks, watching the way your glazed-over eyes try to hold his gaze. He will have you believe that by the end of the night, dawning if necessary.

There is much rush now that he found you, now that he has the chance to claim you.

You still moan, loud and high-pitched, and he slaps a hand flat over your mouth to shut you up. It makes your pretty and teary eyes widen more as you grab at his wrist, holding onto it while he tuts. “I’ll move my hand when you learn to listen to your husband and stay quiet. No one is allowed to hear my wife in her pleasure. No one but I.” At that, you bat your eyelashes at him, breasts heaving as he leans you down, so close your lips nearly touch, and Aemond can feel your heavy pants against his mouth.

“They will take you away from me, and ship you far across the world where I can’t find you,” he hisses, pinching your swollen nipple between his fingers, “I can’t have that. No, no, do you hear me? I will not survive being torn from you.”

The mere thought of losing you, either at the hands of his mother and grandsire or you returning to your homeland, fills him with sheer dread.

He does not know how to tell you that you are the girl of his dreams, everything he has desired and more. He has seen you in his nighttime slumbers and in the gleam of the summer sunlight and up among the black midnight stars.

But the words fall apart on his tongue, and all he can do is lay beneath you and marvel at your beauty: cheekbones and pretty puffy lips and the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure, and how you look utterly delicious and ruined.

“You were made for me,” he breathes in awe, palming at both your breasts. You have to believe him, this sweet and pretty girl of his, how could you not? The gods above created you for him, he will make you see it. “You are taking me so fucking well,” and Aemond flattens a palm against your belly, where he can feel the slight bulge of his cock. “Look at you, you’re my dream come true.” He thrusts his hips up, fucking into you harder and deeper. It makes you squeal and go cross-eyed.

“Is this too much? I know you can handle it, my darling. My love, my sweet girl,” he purrs.

Aemond swipes at the drool pooling at your lips before stuffing two fingers in. “Fuck,” he whines, breathing hard, slipping his other hand in between your thighs, and with his thumb, rubbing at your clit. Your face twists in a gasp as you tremble, your entire body tightening until you cream over his cock, your loud moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums, slowing his thrusts, “Such a good fucking girl. Look at that, did that feel good, my love?” he asks you.

You nod, rocking your hips back and forth. Your thighs shaking and your face scrunching in complete bliss as you start again, taking his cock deep in your stomach with tiny bounces. “Please- please- please-” you babble against his palm. “I-I want- I need-”

“Want what, my sweet girl? Need what, my darling wife?”

You don’t answer, too overtaken by the pleasure. Aemond chuckles and leans upwards, to bury his face between your breasts. You are absolutely stunning, gorgeous, a living goddess; how he went this long without you is baffling. “You wish for my seed. Is that what you want?” he mutters against your nipple, “of course you do, this belly is too empty, isn’t it? My son should be sleeping inside.” His fingers pinch your clit, and you gasp again. “You’ll be the prettiest mother. You were made to carry my children. You were made for me,” and he pulls your face back to his, with a rough grip on your chin.

“Tell me,” he demands through a pant, “tell me how fucking badly you need my seed. Tell me…tell me right now.”

“I- I need it-“ you choke out, but then you shake your head. “No- No I can’t! I- I need to go- go home!”

Aemond laughs, so hard he flings his head back. The sight takes you by surprise before he shoves you off, causing you to land next to him on the bed. You stare up at him, wide eyed and puzzled and swollen and covered in countless bites and bruises. In one swing, he forces your face into the pillow as he mounts you from behind, fucking you hard. His fingers return to your clit, squeezing and tweaking and not caring one bit about your muffled yelps and whines

“You’ll learn, my sweet girl, but perhaps not tonight. I am your home now, do you understand? I’m your family, your husband, and the father to your children.”

He grabs a fistful of damp hair and yanks your face back, never once slowing his thrusts. Your mouth is open with many moans spilling out, eyes clouded with tears, and cheeks flushed. With his lips next to your ear, he whispers, “You are going nowhere.” Then propping himself on one arm, he trails small kisses up your back to your shoulder blade until his mouth slams down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss.

And when he pulls away, his fingertips squeeze your cheeks together as he demands for you to open your mouth. "You are mine," he grunts, "you belong to me," before spitting into it. "Good, now swallow."

And when you do, he smiles.

"There, see?" he coos, leaning to kiss your forehead as he feels you tighten around his cock. He was going to seed you again, deep inside your womb. Come the morning, he knows his son will be in there, and he can hardly wait.

"My wife, my darling girl, the only woman deserving of me and all of me. Only me." He watches you sob at that, pink lips pressing in a tight line as fat tears streak down both cheeks. "Oh, do not worry, my love. You're too lovely to be crying," and he uses his thumb to brush away the tears, "I'm here to give you the life you deserve," he vows, so lovingly, "you will want for nothing."

With a loud huff, you plop yourself on the couch.

The saying “home sweet home” never felt more sincere until now. It took much time and planning and effort and sneaking around on your part, but you managed to find a way to escape from Aemond Targaryen, though not without consequences. Your belly was growing only larger with every new moon, and your babe was starting to shift around more. At most times, you could feel the fluttering sensation across the bottom of your tummy, and every now and then, the tiniest kick.

It was adorable, you admitted, and you tried your best to find enjoyment throughout the pregnancy, sometimes wondering at night about who your child would resemble.

Would their looks favor yours? Or would they favor their father, with his Valyrian features- that iconic silver hair and violet eyes. The latter worried you the most. How could you even begin to explain why your child looked as if they belonged in the Game of Thrones series, specifically in House Targaryen?

Speaking of such, you had not touched House of the Dragon since you arrived back home all those months ago, too unwilling to turn on the tv and see the man whose child you were mysteriously carrying in your womb. It just did not make any sense, it felt more like a weird dream than reality.

But you were dying of boredom. The dragonling (you had taken to nicknaming the baby that, it sounded both cute and appropriate) was stealing away most of your time and energy, and your mother refused to allow you to do anything that could cause harm or add more unnecessary stress.

So you bit your tongue and swallowed down your grumbles and settled comfortably on the couch before opening Fire and Blood.

“Fucking crazy to think that this is a book of your family’s history,” you mumbled to your baby bump, “fictional my ass.”

So you read, to yourself and to your babe. Read about Aegon’s Conquest and the Year of the Three Brides and King Jaehaerys and his Alysanne and their triumphs and tragedies and legacy, and you read until you reached The Dying of the Dragons, the Blacks and the Greens, where you just sighed.

“And when Alicent sent for her second son to fly to Storm’s End, with the purpose of securing Borros Baratheon’s loyalty to Aegon II by winning the hand of one of his daughters, the Four Storms, the truth was finally known. One-eyed Prince Aemond, twenty and one, had taken a wife of his own in secret, a young maiden not of Westeros (according to Mushroom). Yet Prince Aemond lost her a month into their marriage, although by that time he had become so besotted with his bride, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of living without her or taking another woman as his new wife.

With Prince Aemond refusing his mother’s orders, Queen Alicent had little choice but to send her youngest, Prince Daeron, in his place to Storm’s End. And by the seventh month, Prince Daeron wedded Floris Baratheon, and Prince Aemond One-Eye had reunited with his wife, who was heavy with child by the time he found her.”

You suddenly glance up from the book pages, feeling your heart hammering so hard in your chest that it seems at the end of your throat. On the wall, to your right, hung the calendar which you had taken to use as a means of tracking your pregnancy.

In two weeks, you’ll be at your seventh-month mark.

[tsyvia48]

Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle

As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them. 

In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)

Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.

In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences. 

I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one. 

I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through. 

In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman. 

The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent. 

Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.

Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.

The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since. 

Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life. 

When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.

And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.

I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.

Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation. 

And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.

How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch. 

B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.

#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Reddest Flags, Longest Nights

⩙ Summary: The year is 1989. The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Nintendo have just overseen the release of the Game Boy. The first ever episode of Baywatch has just aired, and Ted Bundy has just been executed by electric chair. Vox's relationship with the Radio Demon is on the rocks. Their solution? To add a third person to their bedroom: you

⩙ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vox X reader X Alastor, Radiostatic is a committed relationship (well, they're trying), Reader is a girl and she has a pussy, tentacle sex

⩙ Other notes: This is set in a sexy alternate universe for the characters in @bapple117's Bluest Monday

“I'm not for sale,” you say. It's a truly stupid, suicidal thing to say, with the Television Demon's talons wrapped around your arm, and his associate the Radio Demon watching with amused interest as Vox pulls you into their private booth.

“Come now, dear, that surely isn't true.” It's not Vox who speaks, but Alastor, his tones the same genial, cheerful ones he uses for his broadcasts. “Everyone has a price, after all.”

“Everybody fuckin' wants something, yeah.” Vox agrees, releasing your arm once he's convinced that you won't immediately bolt away. He's not slurring his words, but his movements are clumsier than you would expect. He's drunk, you realize. Both of them are. “People want power. Money. Control.”

“Sex,” says Alastor, flashing a grin at Vox, who makes a noise like someone just tuned him to a dead channel, his face filling briefly with static.

“Shh-yeah, some people want sex, Al. That's a normal fuckin' thing to want.”

Alastor's smile grows, a little smug, a little cruel, and his red eyes turn to you. “What about you, dear? Do you want sex?”

“Al! You can't just fuckin' ask a girl that!”

“Last I checked I was better informed on etiquette than you, old chum,” Alastor's smile slides sideways. “And besides, if our interests align, there's a deal to be had.”

You hadn't come to the club intending to sell anything, but the two demons are adept negotiators- Alastor assuring you that no, he doesn't need your soul per se, just your services, services of a personal, private nature, and aren't you inclined to give those, isn't it in your own best interests? All the while Vox is giving a more direct incentive, the front of his boxy face focused on you, entirely you, dexterous talons skating over the exposed skin of your forearms with enough pressure to make you shiver, with the implied promise that he could touch you in less socially acceptable places, if only you would agree to what the Radio Demon was offering.

You're tempted. You're so, so tempted. You know that this is a bad idea, that these two are bad news to be around, that you should just go back to your normal sinner life, but instead you find yourself leaning in to listen more closely to Alastor's solicitations, and Vox, still touching you, grows bolder, his hand dropping below the table to stroke your thigh.

The top of your thigh at first, skating the seams of your clothes, then dropping to your inner knee, Vox's claw drawing a daring line from your knee and up your inner thigh to your panties.

Your breath hitches, and Alastor tips his head at you, expression amused. “You seem distracted. Would you like me to repeat that last part?”

“Would ya like me to repeat that last part?” asks Vox, his grin as wide as his face and lecherous.

“I can make him stop, if you'd prefer,” says Alastor, with a casual menace.

It's hard to listen to the full terms and conditions with Vox's fingers massaging the fabric of your panties, and maybe that's the intention, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop, or even to ask Alastor to ask him to stop.

“What've you got to lose?” says Vox, his heavy box of a head nudging against your shoulder as the pads of his fingers press against your now slick-drenched gusset. Your thighs press together, his hand trapped between.

“Of course,” says Alastor. “If you'd like to think about it-”

“Oh, she's thinkin' about it, Al,” says Vox, his tone laden with filth.

“I'll do it!” you blurt, and both of their faces light like pinball machines. “I mean, yes.”

“Splendid,” chirps Alastor. “Now, as a rule, I will close a deal with a handshake, but for this-”

A kiss.

You've never imagined kissing the most terrifying demon in all of Pentagram city, so you have no idea what to expect, but Alastor's hand on your cheek is a feather light touch, a swirl of green magic around you. His lips on yours are chaste, brushing rather than prying, in stark contrast to Vox, who takes the opportunity to push your panties to the side with his fingers and stroke a slow line along your slick-coated inner lips. You whine against Alastor's mouth, and he slides his hand to the back of your head, holding you there as the deal is sealed.

That’s how you go home with them, Alastor holding the green chain that fastens to the shackle around your neck. Vox drives uptown, away from Voxtek, away from the Radio Demon’s broadcasting tower, and you end up in a quiet, well-appointed apartment in the most nondescript tower block that you have ever seen.

You note the shoe rack; the way that Vox’s shiny black dress shoes are stacked up next to Alastor’s bespoke deer-soled boots, and it occurs to you that this isn’t just Vox’s playboy apartment, as you’d expected. The two of them live together. There is only one bedroom.

“So, what now?” asks Alastor, holding out a gentlemanly arm for you to lean on as you remove your shoes in the entrance. “I believe your suggestion was to try new things, yes?”

“Jesus, Al.” Vox’s sigh is heavy. “We’ll just go to the bedroom, undress, and, uh, see where we go, yeah?”

“See where we go?” Alastor’s voice inflects upwards into his upper registers, the sound of a capacitor about to burst, and you realize that you are in considerable danger.

Alastor is grinning, but his body language is stressed, his ears back, lips pulled back over his gums to show the most of his teeth. In your second possibly suicidal move of the night, you squeeze his arm, where you have been holding him since taking off your shoes.

Alastor’s gaze snaps to you, eyes dangerously red, but there’s uncertainty in the corners of his smile. He kissed you, back in the club, you reason, so he can’t find you entirely objectionable. You lower your gaze, sliding a hand up his forearm, and his ears shift, subtly. He exhales, a little of the tension going out of his chest, and you slide your hand to his upper arm, pushing him back against the coat rack behind him, pressing him against an electric blue shell jacket, and he just lets you.

If Alastor were half a foot shorter you would kiss him, but as it is he stares down at you, his smile a question, until finally he gets what you’re trying to do, and bends his knees fractionally so that you can stand on tiptoes and press your face to his.

You can feel his smile under your lips, parting as you dare to pry, your tongue finding his teeth, and then the tip of his tongue, cautious against yours. You can feel the little shiver of his breath, his hand down your back. At first you think he’s about to slip his hand under your waistband, but instead he spreads his large hand under your ass, cupping it, and lifts you off your feet.

You feel a moment of vertigo, and a swoop in your stomach that is definitely not vertigo as Alastor holds you with your face level to his and slips his entire tongue into your mouth. You took him initially as a conservative kisser, but perhaps he was holding back before. You groan against his lips, feeling heat spread into your lower half as his tongue explores your mouth, the tip probing the roof of your mouth, the soft flesh of the insides of your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss but the feeling of helplessness that it brings, of being held aloft by a being so much more powerful than you. Your knees press the coats either side of Alastor’s waist as he cradles your ass, your tongue lapping against his, eyes closed, arms locking around his shoulders. By the time he breaks the kiss you are gasping, heart pounding in your chest, and Alastor gives you an appraising look.

“You are very small,” Alastor comments, his face a little flushed from the kissing. He doesn’t set you down, however, shifting his forearm under you as you wrap your ankles around his waist, his staff in his other hand.

“Ah, she’ll do fine, Al,” says Vox with a glance over his shoulder, unbuttoning his shirt as he stalks through the living area and into the bedroom. Alastor follows, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

Seeing the bedroom only serves to solidify your impression that the two of them live here together. There is definitely Alastor’s side of the bed, with red deer themed slippers poking out from underneath, and Vox’s side of the bed, with a digital alarm clock and a special pillow with a square cutout for his head. Two powerful demons, together in secret. It’s enough to make your head spin as Alastor sets you down, gently, on the his side of the bed.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do this.” Vox clambers onto the bed, shucking off his shirt, a pause before he reaches you, his hand on your knee. “You too, Al.”

“Must I?” Alastor gives a sideways sort of smile.

“You don’t say that in front of a girl!” barks Vox, and you get the impression he would be pulling his own hair, if he had any. “You’re gonna hurt her feelings or some shit. And yeah, Al, you gotta join in. Otherwise it’s just me fuckin’ a girl on the bed in front of you, and that’s not really a fuckin’ threesome now, is it?”

Alastor smiles thoughtfully. “You did say we would see where we go. I could read a book.”

“Fuck my life,” Vox mutters, flopping back, his boxy head hitting the duvet heavily.

You tug on Alastor’s sleeve again, catching his attention. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m aware,” says Alastor, expression guarded, smile thin. He pauses. “Are your feelings really hurt?”

Your smile is wry. You’d be lying if you said his reticence didn’t hurt, at least a little. “My ego, maybe?”

“Ah.” Alastor looks down at you, and you are caught for a second by just how red his eyes are, like rubies, or pools of fresh blood. His fingers whisper across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Tossing his staff onto Vox’s supine form, Alastor climbs onto the bed. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you for the third time that evening, all pretense of propriety gone as he pushes you onto your back, your head onto his pillows and his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. It takes your breath away; you can feel nothing else, only the dance of your tongues and lips, slick with saliva, Alastor’s hands sliding down to your jaw and your neck with the barest pressure. He traces the lines of your arteries, almost absently, and you moan into his mouth as you feel your body respond to him, your pulse growing insistent between your legs. You spread your knees without even thinking about it, your cunt level with his navel as you lie shameless and gasping and red-faced beneath him.

“Now we’re talkin’” Vox grins sidelong at the two of you, propping himself up on his elbows. “You are such a fuckin’ tease, Al.”

“Mm…” Alastor looks down at you, his lips parted and shiny with spit. “I do hope that’s a compliment.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, and Alastor presses a finger lazily to your lips, his eyes narrowing fractionally as if to say no thanks needed.

Vox, meanwhile, is removing your panties. He’s not shy of the Radio Demon’s body either, his hand on Alastor’s flank as he makes the space he needs to get them off. In short order you are naked, your clothing peeled away and the sheets warm against your back, though with the gazes of the two men on you, the room feels far from cold. Vox is down to y-fronts, which his cock strains against valiantly, while Alastor keeps his trousers and shirt, his tie and waistcoat discarded beside the bed.

Vox kisses your breasts, not even trying for your face, Alastor sitting back to give him better access. Vox’s lips are strange, part of the curvature of his front glass and yet not, warm and staticky against your skin, supple as his lips curve around your nipple and suck. His tongue is stranger yet, its sensation alien as the buzzing of fluorescent lights as he traces a circle around your areola and brings your nipple to a shivering point. Vox repeats the action with your other breast, Alastor stroking the vents on the back of his boxy head, his expression unguarded and fond.

“Al-” Vox makes a frustrated noise, his breath hot on your breast. “Pay attention to the girl.”

Alastor smirks, his expression almost flirtatious. “I was,” he says, his eyes meeting yours briefly, “But you and your big head got in the way.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Al.” Vox pinches the top of his frame with two fingers, his other hand on your breast. “There’s plenty to be done here-” Vox’s hand moves down your body, over the softness of your stomach and to your sex, a reassuring squeeze on your hip.

Alastor looks at you, your pink cunt spread open for him, and his brow knits slightly. He’s still touching your leg, hand stroking your shin where it rests against his waist. He’s nervous, you realize. Afraid of fucking up. Afraid of spoiling things.

“Wait-” Vox’s face is thoughtful as he reaches the same conclusion. “You’ve never eaten a girl out, have you?”

“I’ll have you know,” says Alastor, his spine straightening a little. “That I ate two ladies just last week.”

“No, fuck- I mean… eat pussy, Al.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Certainly not!” he pipes. “The taste is revolting, the fur gets stuck in my teeth, and they have too many small bones.”

Vox gives a growl, and you find yourself holding back a laugh. Alastor catches your eye again, his eyes narrowing, red and beautiful as he bends to kiss your knee, a brush of his thin lips. “As my friend here has surmised, I am new to the neighborhood,” he says, his smile a little embarrassed as his gaze travels your inner thigh. “If you would be amenable to showing me around?”

You had expected the Radio Demon to be dominant in the bedroom, to take charge and fill the room with slapping, squelching sounds, but instead he is quiet, his gaze intent as you nervously spread yourself for him. You don’t know what directions he might want, so you hesitate, shrinking back as his eyes seem to drink you in.

“May I?” he asks, and when you nod, he drags a finger through the wetness that seeps viscous from your cunt; a slow, deliberate touch that seems to set every nerve ending in its path aflame. He pulls the finger away, his expression fascinated as a clear string of slick stretches between his finger and your cunt. “How interesting!” he exclaims, before popping the finger in his mouth, eyes closing as he savors your taste.

Vox rests Alastor’s microphone across his knees, impatient. “Al, you’re meant to put your face down there.”

“I’m building anticipation,” says Alastor, his lips a thin smile. “And if you had an ounce of natural showmanship, you would understand that.”

Vox shakes his head, his hands and mouth going back to your breasts, your shoulders and your neck. Vox’s head is too large to comfortably fit in the crook of your neck, but his tongue more than makes up for that, slithering bright across the sensitive flesh of your throat as his claws gently knead your breasts. The biggest side effect of this is that Vox’s large head blocks your view, and you cannot see what Alastor is doing.

There is a cannibal overlord between your legs is the first thought that registers as Alastor’s lips move glacial up your inner thigh. He kisses, he sucks, and he tastes, his fingertips ghosting feather light over your hips and stomach, tracing lines from your navel to your mons.

Vox finally deigns to kiss your mouth as Alastor reaches your cunt. Alastor parts your labia, his long tongue stroking between your folds as Vox’s tongue slips into your mouth, the doubled sensation delicious in its intensity. Alastor’s movements are hesitant, almost conservative, but your cunt is sopping wet enough that even the stripes he licks up your inner labia have you moaning into Vox’s mouth, your hips bucking needy into Alastor’s face.

Alastor’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your ass, holding you firm as he tends to you, his face pressed firmly into your cunt, lips dragging across slick pink flesh as his tongue probes, a breath of pause between each attempt, his hands weighing how much each teasing lick makes you strain against his grip. His nose brushes your clit, which makes your entire body twitch, and he repeats the action more deliberately a second time.

It’s not long before he has found the most sensitive parts of your anatomy, along with the pattern of touch that best makes you arch your back and cry out. Alastor’s tongue moves back and forth, sweeping hot and wet and divine over you as you spread your knees as wide as they will go, your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Holy fuck.” Vox breaks your kiss to look impressed, one clawed hand kneading your chest. “Al, you’re gonna make her cum.”

Alastor doesn’t answer, a primal growl into your cunt, and you cannot answer, the only noise in your throat a mewl of helpless pleasure as Alastor, a man who has spent decades in Hell inflicting pain on souls attacks your nerve endings with a furious precision. You’re going to cum, and you don’t have a choice about it, not with his grip steely on your hips. You want to beg, but your lips can’t even form words as Alastor’s tongue robs you of sense, of language, of decorum, each movement of his mouth sending you hurtling towards the edge. Vox’s hands on you are marginalia to the treatise on pleasure that Alastor’s mouth writes.

It occurs to you, as your orgasm hits, crashing over you and shattering you into pieces, that Alastor might have ruined sex with other men for you. Alastor carries on, tongue pressing into too sensitive flesh through your aftershocks, even as you whine and try to twist away, until Vox touches his shoulder and stops him.

“She’s done, Al,” says Vox, his claws gentle in your hair, and you whimper against the warmth of his chest as Alastor releases you. “Hey, babydoll,” murmurs Vox, the proximity of his screen making the hair on the top of your head stand on end. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, language returning to you in bits and pieces, and look at Alastor, who kneels between your legs still, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes are uncertain, and you reach out to him, catching his thin wrists and pulling him to you.

“You’re good at that,” you say, looking up at Alastor as you lie sandwiched between the two of them, Vox’s strong arms around your waist, Vox’s cock pressing into your lower back.

Alastor kisses you, tasting of you, and pulls back, looking pleased with himself. “It’s a lot like torture,” he says, eyes half lidded. “All I need to do is listen to your screams.”

“God fuckin’ damn it, Al,” grouses Vox. “It’s always the horror show stuff with you.”

“God forbid a man have hobbies,” Alastor’s head tilts, but there’s no venom to his reprise. “And for your information,” he adds, a glance at you. “It’s not always torture. I also enjoy dancing.”

You laugh into your hands, the afterglow of your orgasm filling you with a pleasant kind of warmth, and Alastor steals another kiss, grinning all the while.

“What now?”

“Now?” Vox grins, dangerous. “Now it’s your turn, Al.”

Alastor’s smile becomes fixed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Vox’s smile grows wider, and he disentangles himself from you, a crackling kiss to the side of your head. “C’mere.”

Alastor gives an undignified squeak as Vox leaps and tackles him into the bedsheets, dexterous claws on the buttons of his shirt and his fly.

“Impudent! I can undress mysel- mm!” Alastor is silenced as Vox catches his chin and kisses him, open mouthed, long blue tongue lapping your juices from Alastor’s chin, and you watch as Alastor melts for the Television Demon, his shoulders going slack, his shadow splaying itself across the pillows. Alastor’s shirt comes off without complaint, and you crawl over to touch him, your hands on his narrow chest, his shoulders, his arms, as Vox undresses him the rest of the way. Alastor’s heart is beating fast; you can feel it through your hand on his sternum, like a butterfly’s wings beating futile against a glass windowpane, but it slows as Vox kisses his back, and Alastor places a clawed hand over yours. “I suppose you both mean to fuck me,” he says, a little sulkily.

“You tryna say you don’t want that, Al?” Vox’s teeth glow as he grins. “You don’t want me to fuck you as the lovely girl here sucks you off?”

Alastor’s smile purses, but he can’t bring himself to say no, not with you staring up at him prettily and Vox growling sweet nothings into his neck.

His cock stands at attention, the tip red and angry, and you take him in your palms before you get on all fours and take him in your mouth, feeling the quiver that runs through his stomach as your mouth envelops him.

“F-fuck,” Alastor hisses, filter failing, his hand in your hair as Vox’s talons circle his narrow waist. He’s sensitive- you can tell that much from your first few sucks, his precum salty and organic tasting, each movement of your tongue drawing soft noises from his throat. Part of that might be Vox working him open, your position in the bed lowering fractionally as Vox pushes Alastor’s knees apart.

“See, you want it, don’t you Al? Gettin’ completely fucked.” You feel Alastor’s talons tighten in your hair as Vox pushes into him, Alastor’s cock twitching against the back of your mouth, and you breathe through your nose, enjoying the feeling of Alastor coming undone.

“Vox!” Alastor’s voice is tight, high in his register, and Vox slows, stroking him and easing him through sensation, the two demons’ hips moving in tandem as Alastor ruts into your mouth, a strangled noise in his throat.

“Say you like it, say we fuck you good,” Vox growls soft, but the only things coming from Alastor’s mouth are obscenities, his senses overwhelmed by the two of you working together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Alastor’s chest heaves, his eyes screwed shut, his lip bleeding where he has bitten it, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every roll of his hips, a lewd little whimper escaping his lips with the apex of each of Vox’s thrusts.

“There you are,” Vox breathes, seeming to sense Alastor’s imminent climax before Alastor himself. You feel Alastor’s cock swell in your mouth, his grip tightening. “We got you, Al. Let go.”

“Don’t -ngh- tell me what to do,” says Alastor, emptying his load into your mouth, hot and salty. He gasps, and you swallow it down. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re so good, Al. So fuckin’ good.” Vox’s voice is a groan as he presses his face crackling into Alastor’s hair and starts to fuck him in earnest.

You move your face from Alastor’s cock, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lay back on the pillows with Alastor’s microphone and watch the show, but instead Alastor grabs your wrists and pins you under him as Vox pushes him to all fours, and Alastor kisses you, unreserved and passionate. He tastes of you, and you of him, small whimpers still escaping him as Vox fucks him. Your fingers are in his hair, over his ears, over his antlers, his thin back, and he holds you to his chest, lips locked with yours as Vox finishes inside him, the three of you shivering with it, the room still in the aftermath.

“Ngh.” Vox’s screen shows a test card for a good twenty seconds. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” Alastor agrees, a slow exhalation as Vox withdraws from him.

The three of you are side by side in the bed for a moment as Vox drops to the sheets. Vox’s breathing is labored, Alastor’s more controlled, and neither of them speak.

Alastor rolls onto his back, turning to Vox. “You’d best wash up.”

“What?” Vox narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s rude,” says Alastor, with a coy smile. “To keep a lady waiting.”

“Oh.” Vox stares at you as if he’s just remembered you are there, face coloring. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. Keep her warm for me, Al.”

Alastor takes his staff back in one hand, and pulls you to him with the other, your head nestled nicely against his bony shoulder as you watch Vox disappear into the bathroom, water running. It feels as if you could both drift off like this, comfortable and satiated, and you almost do, until Alastor’s fingers start tracing a slow line from your knee to your thigh, and your eyes flicker open.

“He’ll be pissy if he finds us asleep,” says Alastor, his tone amused. “So, unless you want to see him blow a fuse-”

You swallow as you feel him part your labia with his fingers, careful with his claws as he drags the pads of his fingers through the slickness that seeps from you. “Is this really the best way to stay awake?”

“Probably not,” admits Alastor. “But it is one of the more entertaining ones, don’t you agree?”

“Very,” you agree, your breath hitching as Alastor’s finger graces the base of your clitoris, drawing a small circle, pressing your flesh against the bone of your pelvis with his fingertips. “I am very entertained right now.”

“A performer is nothing without his audience,” quips Alastor, but his smile seems genuine. You’re wondering how he’s going to manage his claws if he fingers you when he extrudes a long black tentacle from his back. “Open wide now.”

Your legs spread, Alastor strokes your knee, the back of your calf, the arch of your foot, and his tentacle slithers, wrapping fully around the meat of your thigh before its tip teases at your cunt.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away, which is a good thing; ready and willing as you are the tentacle is girthy. Instead, Alastor teases with it, his smile relaxed and his ears pricked as he listens to your breathing, your sighs. Your words, when you are able to use them.

“There, there, just there,” you tell him, and your reward is a squeeze of his hand on your ankle, his breathy voice in your ear, telling you what a good audience you are tonight, how supportive, how participatory. The tentacle moves in tandem with his hand, the tip twirling at your entrance as he strokes the folds of your cunt, dragging slick from your hole up over your clit, coaxing it from its hood, his touch so light that it makes you hold your breath, and then firm, a pressure that has you gasping, moaning so loudly that he holds his microphone to your lips and asks you to repeat yourself.

When Alastor’s tentacle pushes its way into you, you are ready, more than ready, speechless at the girth of it and giving heady little gasps as you feel yourself stretch around him.

“You’d better not reach the climax before Vox gets back,” says Alastor, a soft murmur in your ear as you whimper, senseless against his chest. “He really will blow a fuse if you do that.” He’s enjoying himself, you realize. He’s playing with you, his smile relaxed as he manipulates your body to his liking.

But you are already mounting the summit, your body helpless in Alastor’s clutches. He barely needs to use his fingers, not with the tentacle pressed into you, an obscene squelching noise as he curves it in and out of you; Alastor simply holds his fingertips over the tip of your clit and lets the motion of the tentacle do the rest of the work, each brush of contact with the exposed nub of flesh like a lick of flame across your nerves that makes you cry out, over and over, until your throat is hoarse with it.

You cum as Vox returns, a spasm through your body, your cunt fluttering around Alastor’s tentacle, and the Radio Demon grins at Vox.

If Vox’s eyes weren’t just images displayed on his screen, they would be bulging right now. He stares. Alastor grins at him.

“Al.” Vox’s lips are an annoyed line as he watches Alastor pull his tentacle out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing. “How the fuck am I meant to compete with that monster?” His cock is well proportioned to his frame, but it’s nothing compared to the tentacle. You look between the two demons, hoping they’re not going to fight.

Alastor’s grin widens. “You’re a resourceful man, Vox. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Vox shakes his head as he climbs back on the bed. “You’ve always gotta fuckin’ upstage me, huh.”

“That’s why you like me so much,” says Alastor. “Isn’t it?”

“Ah, fuck you, Al,” says Vox, all bark, and Alastor beams at him.

Alastor pulls you on top of him, your back to him, and hooks his chin over the top of your head, so that you both face Vox when he climbs atop you, on his hands and knees.

Vox kisses you, softly, hand cupping your face, and you feel Alastor’s sound of approval through your back, the low hum of an electrical appliance.

“You ready, babydoll?” Vox asks, and when you nod, he pushes into you.

You feel him. Your orgasm has made you tender, Alastor’s tentacle has made you tender and you feel every inch of Vox as if your cunt were just made yesterday, shipped direct from the factory.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice babydoll.” Fragments of test card float on Vox’s screen as he pauses, in you to the hilt. “You feel fuckin’ nice. Fuckin’ soft, god.”

You feel Alastor huff into your hair with amusement, and he reaches for your legs, pulling up your thighs and then your knees, pulling your legs flush with your chest; a mating press for you and Vox.

Vox grins, his hands joining Alastor’s on the underside of your knees, and he fucks you in earnest.

That his cock is smaller than Alastor’s tentacle doesn’t matter one bit, not when you’re pressed like this, his cock able to reach the deepest parts of your tender cunt with ease. He fucks you, and you cry out; not the mewling whimper you had before but a full throated cry that escapes you at the apex of each thrust, your throat already sore, your voice cracking, but crying out regardless.

Vox’s monologue is all sweet, sweary nothings- you’re doing so good babydoll, so wet for me, so soft, so good, so fuckin’ good and Alastor’s commentary is drier- do you think you’ll be able to walk again after this? Now that’s a scream worthy of my studio, all the while you are crying out, tears in your eyes, a pressure in your abdomen, Vox hammering into the most sensitive parts of you, over and over and oh.

Your cunt flutters again, Vox growling a good girl before his seed floods into you in hot, pulsing waves.

You lie there, boneless, seeing stars, the three of you breathing hard. Vox drops his face onto your chest, and you stroke his hot vents, as you’ve seen Alastor do. Alastor lets go of your legs, a kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck,” murmurs Vox.

“Seconded,” you croak.

“Mm,” buzzes Alastor. “Quite.”

Vox rolls off you, and you roll off Alastor, the three of you side by side on the bed, points of contact between you; your leg crossing Alastor’s thigh, Vox’s arm across your stomach.

It is a long, hazy moment before Vox sits up, digging through the dresser on the Vox side of the bed, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“In the apartment?” Alastor complains, sleepy.

“It’s a fuckin’ special occasion, Al,” says Vox, leaning over you to place a cigarette between Alastor’s smiling lips. Alastor takes it, and Vox lights it, before offering the box to you. “You smoke?” he asks.

If you didn’t already, it was a hell of a time to start.

[momentomori24]

Surprisingly, hearing Vox and Val technically (I love how technically needed to be added) aren't dating didn't upset me as much as I thought it would. It did... for like a minute until I thought about how painfully much it fits them.

Val throws tantrums and is ready go out and kill people to let off steam, but decides to stay put in his room and sulk instead while he waits for his flat-faced prince to come and comfort him before he does anything drastic. He's killed and abused people for the slightest hint of non-compliance, which he sees as giving him an attitude or questioning his authority, but he doesn't so much as flinch when Vox raises his voice and starts shaking him in frustration more than once. He doesn't lash out or get angry when Vox tries to talk him out of marching towards the hotel, but instead listens to his points and takes his words to heart even when they weren't what he wanted to hear. He's not interested in Alastor, but is willing to sit through watching the extermination broadcast because Vox is a passionate football dad about his one-sided rival getting dunked on. He doesn't even act jealous towards Vox's obsession, just weirdly amused and supportive even tho he hates not being the center of attention any other times. And then there's Vox, who acts like he's annoyed to have to put up with Valentino but still does it anyway. He acts disinterested about Val's ranting over Angel until he hears that Angel might've quit because he's an jealous, insecure loser that wants that mf's attention to himself. He lights his cigarette and decides to call up their lowest earners for him to terrorize without being asked just to lighten his mood a little (unrelated but i feel for their employees). He keeps his eyes on him both in his room and when he's at the pub through the cameras he's got everywhere. He takes his hand like one would with a princess and smiles fondly at him before disappearing when noticing they're being watched. He's the only person that Val trusts enough to calm him down when his temper gets the better of him. And Val-- despite his volatile temper and obnoxious quirks-- is someone he respects and cares about, both as his business associate and romantic partner.

And they aren't dating. Val and Vox clearly have a connection and understanding and attraction yet are unable to confront those feelings in fear of being vulnerable. So they aren't dating. Val obsesses over Angel and Vox obsesses over Alastor to distract themselves of the other only to fall back into each other's arms at the end of the day. Even tho they aren't dating. They celebrate, dance, sing, support and shamelessly make out with each other. They're the only ones that would put up with each other's bullshit no matter what-- but for some reason, they're still not dating. They are two of the worst Overlords in Hell, capable of committing so many despicable acts and jumping to immoral tactics for their own gain without any regrets, but opening that door into genuine emotional vulnerability? Acknowledging their softness for each other? That's where they draw the line. They're clearly made for each other, but neither of them dare to step over that line to commit to something more.

Which means that we could get to actually see these changes take place. We could get to see more sides to these two we still haven't seen before. We could get to see them actually start dating and the complicated journey it took to get there. We could get to scream and kick and seeth as these two morons continue to dance around admitting their very much requited romantic feelings for every stupid reason under the sun episode after episode. We could get to see these two fix each other and make each other worse simultaneously. Mostly make each other worse. We could get to see them have a romantic duet. We could get to see them be happy together-- officially together-- while they make life worse for everyone around them.

All this mumbo-jumbo, sleep-deprived ranting will likely not happen, but the potential character growth, the dynamic development, the resolved romantic tension, the SONGS we could get??? I'm clinging onto this hope for dear life until it's ripped from my cold, dead hands.

[wered0gs]

I haven't seen a lot of discussion about RSD when it comes to ADHD discussions, so I thought I would do the honors since it's been affecting me for many years and I'd like people to know more about it!

I have had a diagnosis for ADHD but was never told- instead learning I had autism through therapy but still having some behaviors that I could never explain that just Happened.

I learned I had ADHD over the summer, and with that, severe rejection sensitive dysphoria.

before reading, please keep in mind that this is mostly talking from personal experience and some skimmed research! not experiencing RSD doesn't mean you do/don't have ADHD, and it may not appear like how it appeared for me. I don't only have autism + adhd either, so those may also contribute to any differences! ^^

RSD is the immense emotional pain after being criticized, rejected, or even teased (ignore my misspell in the panel). This rejection can be real or perceived, and we react like this because it hurts.

The pain can manifest as aggression, bringing on symptoms of depression (thoughts of s/h, isolation, demotivation, etc) and anxiety/panic attacks.

it can cause physical aliments like the above. For me, it causes my heartrate to skyrocket, heart palpitations, the feeling of being in a crisis, and extreme shaking to occur along with stomach pain.

(In fact, right now I'm going through it because making a post talking about this, despite having & dealing with it, makes me scared of other's opinions on it.)

RSD can also take the form of avoiding situations, people, or conversations where rejection or criticism is very possible.

Like other types of dysphoria, it is out of our control and hard to manage. It can last from days to weeks to months, all depending on both the trigger* and the individual.

I had a RSD episode that was on-and-off for a little over a year or two; getting more tame and bearable as it slowly drifted and stopped haunting my mind with the incident.

Compared to the other times my RSD was set off, this moment was a rather big moment in my life and ended up permanently changing me moving forward - which can be the reason why it lasted so long.

Despite how unbearable it can get, there are some ways to cope with it & lessen the effect it has.

Communicate - If you need time to process something that's told to you, you should say so (as difficult as it is). Tell the person(s) involved about your RSD, how you need time to digest information like this and take some time to relax. Trying to respond to the information while going through the head of the dysphoria will be very rough and might not be what you truly want to say.

Distract - This is really useful for me personally! Do something that grabs your attention or occupies your mind. One of RSD's main symptoms is rumination, thinking of something over and over again. I usually listen to music, draw, or play a game that won't frustrate me - like minecraft! (i'd say rain world but some of you would call me a maniac /lhj)

Perspective - This may require some communication, but it can really help and connect with others. See what the involved people thought / perceived, explain, talk. This doesn't always have the chance to end in rainbows and rekindling but at least you understand. Sometimes simply hearing the person explain their own side is enough to ease my RSD, being able to have someone explain themselves to me so i can understand them better.

I also wanna point out the "don't take it personally" thing that people try to use to deal with it isn't something i agree with since we're going to take it personally at first regardless. Later on, not really, but you're trying to cope with the symptoms... telling someone (or yourself) that they're too sensitive & over-reacting is the worse thing you could do.

With time, you can even begin to build up your 'armor' and be able to sustain yourself in situations you might get hurt in. Of course, some things may be able to sneak past and hurt you more than you expect, but at the end of the day, you're trying your best to go about it the best you can while taking so many blows. you're doing great.

OK i dont have a lot more to add so if anyone else would like to talk about their experiences, please feel free! Character showcased here was my beloved fursona Shiki! i'm just a little neurodivergent + black artist from new york :]

hope you enjoyed it! sorry for the long post </3

[fictionadventurer]

2, 3, 5, 7, & 20 for the Distracted asks, please?

2. Name something you want to read?

I've had the urge to dig into my collection of Oscar Wilde's fairy tales.

3. 5 songs you have been recently obsessed with?

I haven't had time for listening to much music lately, but I'm obsessed with the soundtrack to The Wild Robot. It made excellent background music when prepping the blog posts for the first day of the Inklings Challenge

5. What was the last thing you watched?

Already answered! It was an episode of The Drew Carey Show.

7. Draw something that makes you happy, don't worry about your art skills!

Edited to add: Snoopy!

20. Share a recipe or two?

How about my fancy oatmeal?

Melt a little butter in a kettle. Put in your steelcut oats and toast until fragrant. Put in four times as much water as oats, then let it simmer until it's the oatmeal consistency you want. While it's cooking, toast some chopped pecans and/or sliced almonds and gather any fruit you want (I usually use chopped apples and dried cherries, but I've also used fresh blueberries or raspberries). After the oatmeal's done cooking, stir in brown sugar, cinnamon, a bit of vanilla, and your nuts and fruit. Enjoy!

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP — @harusanzuchiyo

Your match is...

— Chigiri Hyoma

✦ "I like my own company or the company of those close to me, especially my big sis since she’s like my best friend." This immediately made me think of Chigiri and his sister. They share a similar bond, even if it might not be as openly expressive.

✦ "I tend to observe others and my surroundings and always catch what others feel or things people wouldn’t notice." Again, this is something you share. Chigiri is very discreet during the early episodes, always in the background and not very involved in group activities.

✦ Yet, we quickly notice his eye for detail. He’s able to explain to Isagi how his playstyle works, how he sees the entire field as a whole, and so.

✦ "I’m not really good at expressing my own feelings so most of the time people find it hard to read me." Well, it’s the same for Chigiri.

✦ "Once you know me, I’m more laid back. I’ll make jokes and laugh a lot, even at the silliest things, and definitely tease my friends sometimes. I’m also very sarcastic." Our redhead is known for becoming one of the sassiest characters on the field later on, throwing sharp remarks at opponents who can never outrun him.

✦ Even so, I don’t see him as someone who mocks others for no reason. He knows his worth and eventually regains his confidence.

✦ Outside of matches, we know he’s pretty laid-back. He goes with the flow and doesn’t hesitate to invite other players to join when Chigiri is with the Egoist 4.

✦ In general, this echoes your tendency to switch between hyperactive and vegetative modes. It reminds me a lot of Chigiri’s ability to know when to be cheeky on the field and when to be calm and composed once his jersey is off.

✦ "More than talking, though, I tend to listen, so if you had a bad day, I’ll just sit with you in silence and keep you company, or find a way to distract you. And if you eventually want to talk about it, I’m all ears." I’ve noticed that even though the overwhelming majority of characters in the manga are all about competition and victory, there always comes a moment when a character needs to slip into an introspective episode to refocus and regain their determination. Some even feel the need to talk with someone, and I think Chigiri could be that type, especially if you’re able to speak frankly when you know something’s wrong. Chigiri is the kind of person who needs to be scolded to clear his thoughts and get back on track. That’s a role you’d fill perfectly with your ability to provide moral support to those you care about.

✦ "I’m also really disorganized and clumsy, probably because I daydream most of the time (if you catch me being clumsy, I’ll probably cringe a lot). I don’t have a schedule (I’m too lazy for that), so I tend to do everything last minute T.T." That’s probably why your house is so messy! We know the two neat freaks in Blue Lock are Isagi and Barou; without them, it’s often chaotic in the Egoists' homes.

✦ At the same time, I don’t see Chigiri complaining about it much, you know. He goes with the flow, as always.

✦ The red panther has this philosophy of "as long as you don’t slip on a banana peel while walking, it’s fine!"

✦ "On the other hand, I like people who respect boundaries, open-minded people, people who don’t jump to conclusions, and people who don’t live to please others but for themselves and don’t care about others’ opinions." Honestly, this paragraph gave me the most trouble finding the best match because when it comes to respecting boundaries, let’s just say not many characters fit the bill lol.

✦ But the "don’t care about others’ opinions," you honestly couldn’t have picked a better manga to find characters who align with that definition.

✦ All in all, Chigiri is a good balance of everything you like in someone: a respectful person who knows their worth and knows how to self-reflect.

✦ "As for hobbies, I LOVE drawing, especially creating characters." Chigiri is someone who likes taking care of himself and appreciates beautiful things, so I can easily see him leaning over your drawings to see what you’re working on. Of course, if you don’t like that: he backs off simply and waits for the moment when you’re ready to show him, if that ever happens.

✦ He knows how to keep himself busy with reading and gladly recommends titles to you.

✦ "For the love language I would like to receive, I would say quality time too, as I said earlier I just like the idea of spending time with the people I care for." Honestly, I think Chigiri is one of the best at that. Just being in the same room as you, nose deep in his books, and when a passage amuses him or gets a reaction out of him, he reads it aloud to you without taking his eyes off the page.

✦ "I have shoulder-length dark brown curly hair that I tend to style a lot (thanks, Pinterest lol)." Skincare and hair routine together <3 And I think he’d be impressed by your style; it contrasts a lot with his, which is more casual chic. When you’re out in public, people definitely turn to look at you two.

A word about your match: I thought of Isagi because he could help you organize your days and tidy up for you... But I found the balance that Chigiri brings more interesting.

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | AUGUST '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[the-nerdiest-insanity]

It All Melts Away

Also on Ao3

Day 2 of the Dead Boy Detectives Pride Month Prompts- Storm

It was an odd night for the agency. Their current case required a living person to be monitored at all times. While the girls did the best tailing they could during the day, only the boys were able to keep track of their target inside the house at night.

It did give the girls a night off, so they made the most of it.

Crystal roamed around their small, joint kitchen, popping popcorn and gathering other various snacks and sodas.

Niko opened Crunchyroll up on the television. “I hope you like this one,” she called out as she scrolled through. “It’s my favorite. I’ve seen it over a dozen times. Well, I stopped counting after twelve.”

Crystal smiled at her girlfriend as the microwave dinged. She moved the popcorn into a bowl next to the pretzels and chips. “Can you lend me a hand moving everything over?”

Niko hummed in acknowledgment as she hovered over the first episode of Yuri On Ice. She hopped off the couch and grabbed the empty glasses and soda bottles. Crystal gave her a quick cheek kiss and led the way to the couch.

The two swiftly laid out their hoard and cuddled together on the couch, pulling a fluffy blanket across their laps. Niko looked up from where she was nestled against Crystal’s chest and quietly said, “I’ll try not to talk over the whole thing this time.”

Crystal kissed her love’s forehead. “What if I like it when you do?” she whispered into the other’s hair.

Niko smiled brightly, turning on the show as an answer. She mouthed along to the intro as Yuri talked about Victor giving him “an unending chain of surprises” before immediately humming the intro. 

“Watch this one closely,” Niko interjected, drawing Crystal’s attention. “This one is different than all of the other episodes. There aren’t any background colors because light hasn’t come into Yuri’s life yet.” 

Crystal wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she nodded and focused on the show, assuming the answer would be clear once she watched more.

Right before the title card, a huge crash of thunder sounded outside. Niko jumped and latched even tighter onto Crystal. “You okay, sweetheart?” Crystal asked, wrapping her arms firmer around Niko.

“Yeah,” Niko replied, voice trembling slightly. “Let’s just keep watching.” Crystal noticed her girlfriend was lightly shaking in her arms but agreed to continue.

Victor won his fifth Grand Prix gold medal as Yuri despaired over his last-place finish. Niko perked up a bit as she talked in tandem with the Chibi Yuri giving a quick rundown of his backstory. 

But, right as Plisetski threw a kick into the bathroom stall, another wave of thunder shook their cozy bliss.

Niko let out a small, startled yelp and buried her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Crystal sighed and reached for the remote with one hand. “Why down we turn this off, and we can–”

“No!” Niko yelled, grabbing the controller. The girls froze. Niko turned her head down, unable to make eye contact. She took a deep breath and continued, “Having something on helps. It’s a good distraction, and I really want to watch this with you.”

Crystal lowered the remote onto their laps. “We don’t have to do this now. We could watch another Scooby Doo if that would help instead. You don’t have to push on for me.” She wanted to put her hand on top of the one Niko had fisting into the blanket.

“No, just…” She scrunched the blanket tighter. “Is it okay if I put on my headphones? It helps block out the background noise. I promise I’m still listening. It’ll just dull the thunder.”

Crystal smiled softly and carefully squeezed Niko. “I hope you would. Who else is going to give me excellent commentary? I’m not gonna learn that the animators were told to put special attention on the skaters butts from anyone else.”

Niko giggled at her love and gave a quick kiss on the back of Crystal’s free hand. “I’ll be right back. Rewind to what you last saw while I’m gone.”

Niko scrambled away as Crystal hollered, “On it!”

Niko returned a few moments later with her cat ear headphones on and already looking a bit brighter. The television was set to Yuri crying alone in his stall moments before disaster.

Niko snuggled into her former position on Crystal with her girlfriend sticking her head between the ears to kiss Niko’s head. “Ready?” Crystal asked.

“Mhmm!” Niko responded, cuddling closer. 

The next thunder crash sounded a couple of minutes later, but it didn’t disturb the pair.

Crystal gasped. “That bitch!”

Niko nodded. “Didn’t even treat him like a fellow competitor.”

They made it halfway through episode four before falling asleep.

[wasyago]

hi! this is the bunch-a-questions anon. this wont be an ask ask. thank you for answering! it really gives me so much insight about tools and processes, i really enjoy seeing/reading how different artists have different ways in approaching creation of art. it’s all so interesting to me

and oooh i know what you mean about looking at a lot of different artists! it’s inspiration!! i find those things to be amazing too, it’s so cool. it’s like “this spot is inspired by an artist” “this artist draws this like this, so i wanted to try” “i think the way an artist drew this was neat and i wanted to try an implement it” it reminds me of that one post how we, as people, are a mosiac of other people and i believe it to be the same for how artists are too with their art

i feel inspired by the way you draw….. everything!!! it gets me pumped to try and replicate the way you do some things. like the shapes you create, the colors you choose, the way your lineart seems to be so flowy, how dynamic everything feels and how different each drawing you create is from one another (i saw you reblog that meme of like “why shouldnt i draw characters from the waist up and that is SO me, but it’s shoulders up” because drawing full bodies makes mh drawings feel so stiff, i need to practice more!!), the poses of the characters. just.. every aspect of your art is so, so, so nice!!

the way you draw, in all your styles, it’s definitely one of the ones that is such a good scratch to my brain. it gets me all giddy and happy! i’m not sure if i’ll get into jwri, mostly because my attention span will not let me be able sit and focus on listening before i get distracted and miss context on parts, BUT i still go to your blog almost every day just so i can see your art, no matter what it is, no matter who the characters are because it’s always so so good and i love taking it in. (will eat your art if i could, i am so serious)

this was a long one but yeah! i just wanted to let you know how awesome i see your art is! and how i also think youre a cool person, you seem like such a good peep to hang out it! might be weird to say but if you were a blorbo, you would be one of the most blorbiest blorbos to blorbo ever

hope youre having a good day!!

OH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS THIS IS SOOOOO

your explanation of taking inspiration from other artists was so poetic and beautiful! truly inspiring in itself

its okay if you can't get into jrwi, i get it! i didn't think i would get into it as well and after binging all the episodes i honestly forgot why i even started listening in the first place. remembered recently tho! it was because i was going a little crazy while making the picrew and needed some actual talking in the background instead of just music. so, if you ever decide to give it a try, or listen to something else equally as lengthy, try to busy your hands with something that doesn't require a lot of thinking! it helps me at least! worked both with jrwi and tma. it's like, doing something monotonous (knitting, sorting files, cleaning the house, etc) can be incredibly boring if i sit in silence and let my mind wonder. alternatively, listening to something long or watching a long movie can be incredibly boring as well because i struggle to pay attention to the same thing for two hours. but combining these is really good, because it keeps both my mind and hands busy, but not overwhelmingly so!

and ough ough ough thank you again for such heartwarming message! im so happy to hear that you feel inspired by my art, and i wish you good luck in your own art journey!!!!!!! remember to have fun and listen to yourself and do things that you find interesting and that you enjoy! don't force yourself to draw stuff you don't like! all art is personal and individual, so don't be afraid to make things "you"! you don't have to do clean line, you don't have to do lines at all, you don't have to do coloring or shading, if you don't like it! and if you do like it or are excited to try, you should go for it! don't be afraid to change and grow but don't force yourself into it!

also don't foget to stretch before drawing its very important!!!!!!!!!!!!

[spamsmcgee]

Find a Place Where We Belong

-Listen to In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins

While investigating and hoping to bust a group of street racing gamblers, Y/N has to pose as Guanyu’s girlfriend in her first undercover assignment with the Jump Street Program.

Part Three: Obligatory Filler Episode

You and Guanyu have just a moment to yourselves. Where you don’t have to act. There’s no image to uphold, no risk of your cover being blown; Why is it so much more comfortable with your hands in his?

QuickView

Previous | Next

Neon lights and bright music fill the air around you. Standing in line at the Ferris wheel, your fingers are tangled with Guanyu’s. You don’t look at each other.

No one says anything.

It’s been a long night. Fernando is volunteering at the local fair, where you and the rest of the team have a chance for a night out disguised as surveillance.

Logan is probably doing actual surveillance. Yuki and Oscar split up the moment they arrived. Yuki probably made himself at home with the food trucks.

You stay with Guanyu. Students surround you, most of them familiar members of Fernando’s group.

The two of you board the Ferris wheel car and the moment that gate shuts and the wheel moves on, you separate. Sat across from each other you’re free to talk about the operation ahead of you. Exchange information.

The past three weeks, you two spent more time away from each other. You made yourself comfortable amongst drivers’ girlfriends and some of the women drivers. While he has gotten himself in with Fernando himself.

“I haven’t got him to talk about the murders,” his arms are crossed over his chest as he slouches back against the plastic car wall, “Piastri says Daniel’s more talkative.”

You nod. “Sophia says she doesn’t know about anything other than the gambling,” your elbows are on your knees, “I believe her.”

Guanyu nods.

The past week isn’t so eventful. There’s not much else to say.

By the time the car reaches the top, the two of you are next to each other again. Knees barely touching, his arm over the seat behind you. His other hand made its way onto your thigh sometime since you quit talking.

Maybe it’s just the nature of a Ferris wheel. The cars are small, there isn’t much room to stay away from each other like you tried.

Surely his hand doesn’t have a mind of its own, fingers drawing circles on your leg as he stared into your eyes.

You’ve been alone together before, but never in a situation like this. You call it forced proximity. Ignoring the fact that the two of you stayed apart perfectly fine for the beginning of the ride.

That pause at the top of the wheel takes entirely too long.

He pulls you close against him before he moves his hand up to the back of your head. His eyes move entirely too fast over your face, now not even an inch from his.

Those soft pin pricks from his fingers knotting themselves in your hair lull your eyes shut.

He’s unsure of himself, you can feel it in the way his nose pauses against your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against your lips. The apology is swallowed down as neither of you are in a hurry to separate.

Lips, tongues, teeth, all move together in a hesitant dance. Your hands rest against the base of his neck.

“Not exactly,” your words are cut off by him pulling you back into him, until you can catch another breath, “not exactly professional”

He shakes his head, “not really, no”

He’s out of breath. Steadying his breathing as he rakes his fingers through your hair to smooth it out. At least no one can say you don’t play your parts well.

The Ferris wheel slows to a stop just in time, letting the couple before you off.

Your eyes catch Yuki’s. Oscar and Logan leave him behind. They didn’t catch what he just did. The kicked puppy look in his eyes fill a pit of uncertainty in your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

The car moves again and after that split second distraction Yuki is lost in the crowd.

You nod before taking his hand and pulling him off the ride. “I think I just saw the guys passing through”

Yuki and Guanyu are whispering back and forth as you walk into the break room.

Guanyu’s eyes don’t meet Yuki’s as he repeats a half hearted “I know”

“Everything okay?”

“I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Yuki’s tone is harsh. It commands you to sit and wait for your turn. The same tone orders Guanyu out of the room.

Yuki watches Guanyu leave down the hall, picking himself up as if he didn’t just get chewed up one side down the other.

“I told Hamilton this would happen.”

Yuki pulls up a chair across from you. The kicked puppy look in his eyes is replaced by something more disappointing. Irritated. His jaw is clenched, he stares burning holes into your eyes.

His soft but strained voice hits you in a different way from that look he gave you last night. Maybe a kind of hurt that he felt when he realized he’d have to play that supervisor role.

“He told me not to assume that an officer couldn’t keep it in her pants just because she’s a woman.”

He leaned forward, a finger tapped against the table in front of you.

“If it becomes a problem we’ll have to pull one of you out of the program. I can’t tell you what to do on your own time, but don’t let it affect your work.”

You only nod. He nods in response and stands.

His demeanor changes entirely when he sees Logan and Oscar entering the room. They know what was just happening. They have to. Your expression is telling. It’s your turn with that kicked puppy look.

Guanyu catches you as you leave the room. His hands stay in his pockets.

“I should’ve warned you. He gets kind of intense sometimes.”

You walk past. Not addressing Guanyu as he trails behind you. Not until you’re standing by your cars, parked beside each other in a nearly empty parking lot.

“Do you regret it?”

“Not a bit.”

He reaches for your hands. You withdraw. His hands retreat back into his pockets. His eyes don’t meet yours.

“Do you?”

“No.” You lean against your car. “But he’s right, we can’t let it happen around here.”

You’re in your before he looks up. “You know where I live”

In your rear view mirror, he lags before scrambling into his car and pulling out of the parking lot behind you.

[revnah1406]

2, 20 and 51? for the ask thing

Hey!!✨

These are really interesting questions! Let's do it!

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Usually it is Sparrow who suffers nightmares, the accident in K2 mountain still haunts her, after all these years. And when this happens it could happen in two ways.

Sparrow wakes up so suddenly that she wakes up Amara too. She doesn't touch her until Sparrow has calmed a little bit. She usually tells her sweet words and words of affirmation like: "you are here with me." "You are not in K2 Han." "Breathe my love, you're safe, you're at home.". Until Sparrow calms down and that's when Amara lets Sparrow break down in her arms. Sparrow apologises again and again, "I'm sorry. I woke you up. I'm sorry." But Amara hushes her while she draws sweet circles on Sparrow's back. "Don't feel sorry my love. I'll always protect you". Amara hugs her and says sweet things until Sparrow falls asleep again in her arms. Amara usually stays awake a little bit more just to make sure the nightmares won't hunt Sparrow again.

The second option is When Sparrow wakes up but Amara doesn't wake up right in the moment. She Sparrow composes herself a little bit she gets up from the bed and goes to the kitchen or the garden to take some fresh air. Amara usually wakes up when she doesn't feel Sparrow's body on the bed. So she gets up and looks for her around the house. When she finds her, she doesn't ask about the nightmare, she knows Sparrow doesn't like to talk about it when it's so recent. So Amara just offers something to distract Sparrow's mind. "Do you want me to make some tea?" "We can turn on the TV if you want and finish that episode that we left halfway."

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

"Work Song" By: Hozier.

Maybe it's not the most original one. But I think it expresses Sparrow's feelings towards Amara so well. How much she loves her, and how big her love is. The things she would do for her.

Idk I think Sparrow gives those Hozier vibes.

51. What a non verbal way they say I love you?

For Sparrow are acts of service and quality time. Cooking breakfast for Amara before she wakes up, picking her up from her job late at night, bringing her lunch to work when Amara forgets it. Small Sunday hikes near home, going together at the local market to buy some groceries, a random picnic in the garden of home on a wednesday afternoon... Just small ordinary acts to make Amara's life easier. To remind her that she doesn't have to do everything all by herself, that Sparrow is there for her and would do anything for her.

For Amara is gifting. She's a really good listener and pays a lot of attention to everything that Sparrow says. "Agh one of my boots broke in the last hike." "My Gore-Tex jacket is too old, it has holes everywhere." "This morning the cat broke my favourite mug, that's why I'm grumpy". So Amara takes notes and makes sure to give Sparrow what she needs. She loves making random gifts, for no reason. "I walked by the store and it reminded me of you." "I bought these new chocolates, I know you wanted to try them." "Here, you said you need a new pair of these". Amara loves to see how Sparrow's eyes shine every time she brings something for her (especially if it's food hahaha). Usually Sparrow thanks her with a big bear hug and a big amount of kisses all day. Amara loves to spoil her big girl every time she can, just to see her smile shine.

And that's all! Thank you so much for asking! 🧡🧡✨

[lampmanliveblogs]

While the rest of the Hexside students distract Kikimora, our heroes have just enough time to draw up the complicated teleportation circle… with a bit of help from Luz’ palisman, who has yet to take on its true final form.

Kikimora is able to shake off the attacking kids long enough to take one last shot, just as Luz activates the teleportation array and and a brilliant flash of light, their whisked away from danger and into the vast cranium of the Titan.

There they stand now, under The Collector’s Archive House, so close, yet so far away. For I fear that the hardest part is yet to come…

Listen, I don’t know anything about Star Trek, but I do know that ”Beam us up Scotty” is a Star Trek reference. So yeah, shoutout to that, as well as Camila coming out as a fellow Cosmic Frontier fan, which also doubles as a light-hearted reference to the fact that Hunter, like O’Bailey, is a clone.

And let’s not forget Amity and Willow being best friends again, that’s super precious too. You love to see it.

Alright, first things first, I love the guesses the squad had.

Camila guessed a dragon, because dragons are THE fantasy creature, and she knows how much Luz loves her fantasy books.

Hunter guesses a bird, not just because of Flapjack, but because Eda (and the rest of the Clawthorne family) has a bird palisman.

Amity guesses an otter, which is a callback to Enchanting Grom Fright, when Luz wondered if she should go to Grom dressed as an otter… with a dark side!

Willow guesses a bat because…. because… um… Bat-Queen? Maybe? They did have that excursion in the Bat-Queen’s forest back in Escape of the Palisman.

And finally, Gus throws out snake. And I’m going to be honest with you guys, I might’ve maybe had a few hints at what Luz’ palisman was gonna be. Enough to figure out it was a snake, or more accurately, snake-related.

As far as in-show foreshadowing goes… at the top of my head, last episode we had a bunch of snake imagery around Luz. We had her finding the ”snake pajamas” in Camila’s nightmare/flashback, we had Luz wearing that shirt with a staff and a snake on it, and I think she might’ve had a drawing of a snake in her notebook? As far back as episode one of season one, Luz was playing with snakes and I think Camila might’ve even said something about Luz making some friends that weren’t reptiles. That’s not even to mention the fact that Luz’ newly adopted sister is a snake.

So yeah, there’s been plenty of snakes around Luz. But of course, this isn’t just any old snake, it’s a…

A SNAKESHIFTER. You guys know I love a good pun. And just like Vee, this little cutie is a shapeshifter. Which is so perfect for Luz, the child of two worlds, a chaotic being, always on the move.

Her name is Stringbean! Now, David ”Stringbean” Akeman was an American singer-songwriter, musician, comedian, and semi-professional baseball player. String bean is also one alternate name for green beans. You can also call them haricot verts, if you wanna charge extra.

So yeah, I gotta agree with Luz here: she’s perfect! She is Luz' own infinite potential given physical form.

Now that things have calmed down just a little, Willow takes the opportunity to thank Hunter for his words before, he really helped her, and he means a lot to her too. and then they blush and almost hold hands and it’s so cute.

In fact, it’s almost a little too cute, I’m starting to get nervous here. Because surely, they’re gonna end the episode on a cliffhanger, and there’s only just over a minute left of the episode…

But before that, I’m gonna get what might very well be the last cute screenshot of this episode.

Look at the babies! Look at them!

Aaaaaaand there we have it. Good vibes ended. The camera pans upward to The Collector overlooking our heroes, with Raine still possessed by Philip looming behind them, ready to whisper yet more poisonous words into the ear of the Lord of the Fireflies.

”I think I wanna play a new game.”

And with a snap of their fingers, The Collector ends the episode right then and there as everything goes black.

Treat me like I'm evil Freeze me till I'm cold Beat me till I'm feeble Grab me till I'm old

Fry me till I'm tired Push me till I fall Treat me like a criminal Just a shadow on the wall!

[freebooter4ever]

Now that my dripping nose has slowed down and im feeling more myself, i want to draw, and. Well. Drawing with ADD when focus requires more effort than usual (sick!) is like:

Want to draw, but brain not cooperating, need something in the background to satisfy that restlessness, turn on tv show

Tv show somehow not enough to settle down??? After one episode thoughts still circling to other things. Change tv show.

Second tv show STILL not working. Suddenly brain changes track to thinking about something random.

Switch to a documentary about that random thing. Ten minutes in discover that this is too literal

Switch to a movie vaguely related to the thing.

Movie works for about two hours. Then it ends. Very frustrating, need to find new thing.

Decide to switch to music. Absolutely not working. Doesn't satisfy that ‘ive been alone in the house and i need human interaction’ itch. :/

Attempt to listen to an audio book. Sickly and feeble brain cannot hear words spoken in a dull voice anymore they become a distant hum that does absolutely nothing to help. Why do all audiobooks have the worst readers? The only exception to this is joe mazz*llo and i suspect its cause he's an actor. Or i just like his voice in a southern accent, who knows.

Finally accidentally stumble on a well written tv show with (THANK YOU) over 10 episodes an hr long each that will sooth your restless soul and let you draw for the rest of the day, wow. It only took like...four hours to do this.

FUNNY ENOUGH? The best background distraction to get me in the drawing zone ever turns out to be live hockey. But it has to be live, it can't be a game where i already know the outcome. And it has to be a team i care about. Like i know i would joke about listening to the games at work and how they were distracting but the truth is beyond taking breaks to type out commentary ocassionally live hockey worked like what i imagine adderall would be like to make my brain fucking focus. I absolutely did not expect that. Something about how its happening LIVE combined with needing to know all the terminology combined with my brain in the background trying to vizualize the action on ice while vizualizing the stuff im working on just...is peak attention span for me. :/ brains are so fucking weird. (try explaining to your boss that your productivity every other day decreased at work because the penguins got booted out of the playoffs and that was what you were using to focus for like...months.)(i dont know what im going to do now that the rangers are in the same boat :/)

[thewholedamnboulangerie]

hello friends it’s going incurably critically insane o’clock ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

THE FULL INTRO IS BACK OH WE LOVEEEEEE TO SEE IT

…Laia Costa is SO early in the cast credits WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN

moiraine and lanfear………. powerful homoeroticism I really enjoyed it. I realise that this is not a very original statement but it’s the only one I have sufficient brainpower for rn

THE IMPLICIT POLY AOL VIBES IM GOING TO EAT MY ENTIRE ARM

THE BRAID???? HOLY FUCK RENNA NEEDS TO SUFFER TIMES ONE BILLION

GODDDDDDDD ISHAMAEL SETTING UP MAT TO KILL RAND IS SENDING ME FULLY AROUND THE TWIST

ohhhhh I knew it was coming but “you have always been my better” still made me literally cry 😭😭😭

ANSBCNSNSNDNFNFNGN THEY REALLY SAID WE ARE GOING TO HEIST THE HORN OF VALERE AND WE ARE GOING TO DO IT ENTIRELY OFFSCREEN. like okay I don’t like it but if we can’t have 10 episodes I do have to respect the sheer audacity of that Narrative Choice. though also: WHOMST was the lady from Cairhien. and of even greater importance: was she played by Laia Costa???????

(I assume it was ~Selene~ but like. we are in Laia Costa tunnel vision modus fuckin operandi)

oh Loial my BELOVED 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

wait whatttttt no turok duel OR darkfriend reveal for Ingtar?????? bro we are speedrunning this city

“they were best friends” listen we know two out of the three were fucking so if we’re describing all three in the same way I will not be held responsible for the conclusions I draw tyvm

SIX OF THEM

SIX OF THEM

HEL FUCKING LO

ITS TIME FOR MORE FORSAKEN BABEYYYYY GOD I CANNOT WAITTTTTTTT TO SEE THE REST OF MY EVIL BLORBOS

(admittedly I’m only far enough through the books to have encountered Graendal a grand total of once thus far and also I don’t actually give much of a fuck about Sammael yet but oooooooh my god when Asmodean and Moghedien show up it WILL be over for me bitches)

wait omfg is Lanfear staging this entire drama as a distraction so she can release all the remaining forsaken while ishy and rand are too busy fighting each other to stop her oh fuck meeeeee I’m gonna go in ZANE

THE PHYSICAL RUSH OF ADRENALINE I FELT SEEING MAT MAKE A BLADED QUARTERSTAFF OUT OF THE DAGGER WHILE THE S1 TWO RIVERS MUSIC PLAYED MY GODDDDDDDD

IM JUST CONSTANTLY SCREAMING NOW FR

MAT IN THE SAME LOCATION AS THE HORN… HRRRRRRRRR

no sign of rand for a hot second 👀

HOLY FUCK EGWENEEEEEEEEE

HE’S GOT SHIT HAIR BUT HE’S ALIVE AJSNCNSNSNDNFNDJDNFNFNDJNDNDN

MAT WITH THE HORN THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL

“…Two Rivers???” SPECTACULAR

NOOOOOOOOOO NONONONONO I KNEW IT WAS COMING BUT THIS IS STILL THE ABSOLUTE WORST

OH GOD OhH FUCK I RECOGNISE THE START OF THAT SCORE IM ABOUT TO GO FUCKING FERAL

MAT LEADING THE CHARGE WITH THE MANETHEREN BATTLE CRY OOOOOOOOOH GOD THATS MY FUCKING BOYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I SPY BIRGITTE!!!!! AHHHHHHH SHEEEEEEEEEE

UNO!! FUCK YES

nynaeve saying that egwene needs elayne not her… oh my god are we getting a full main babies towertop avengers assemble moment im gonna fucking evaporate

ALSO WE HAVENT SEEN MOIRAINE IN A HOT SECOND………. HMMMMMMM!!

I KNEW WHAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN OOOOOOOH I FUCKING KNEW IT AND I AM STILL. LOSING MY MINDDDDDDD

THE CRADLING. THE CRADLING. THERE IS A TRULY EXCEPTIONAL LEVEL OF HOMOEROTICISM HAPPENING HERE ON EVERY LEVEL

EGWENE’S BATTLE MUSIC OH MY GOD MY GIRL YESSSSSS GO NUCLEAR MY LOVE

SCREAMING AT THIS AVENGERS ASSEMBLE COMBINATION FATED SOULMATES FIRST MEETING CROSSOVER EVENT BUT WHERE THE FUCK IS AVIENDHA GET MY GIRL IN HERE!!!!!!!

SHRIEKINGGGGGGGG AT THE (almost) ENTIRE CREW BEING RIGHT BEHIND RAND IN HIS BIG MOMENT

OH GOD OH MY GOD ITS HER SHES FUCKING HERE

AHSBCBFB OKAY I HAD IT BACKWARDS BUT FUCKING SCREAM???????? THATS HERRRRRR THATS MY CREEPY PATHETIC BABYGIRL HOLY SHITTTTTTTTT

“All five of them” uh huh. uh huh. uh huh. any- any of them in particular??? perchance??? huh moggy???

AND CLOSING WITH A NEW VARIANT ON MAT’S THEME OHHHHHHH AND IF I SOBBBBBBB

[theragamuffininitiative]

Sorry for barging in like this but I wanted you to know how happy I am to discover a fellow Adam 12 watcher ( and enjoyer) in the year 2023!!

If you don't mind sharing your thoughts, can I ask you, what made you love the show? Or alternatively, what would you tell someone to convince them to give it a chance..

Hello nonny!

You can barge in any time 😊 ESPECIALLY IF IT IS ABOUT ADAM 12 !!!! I saw this message this morning and have been thinking happily about answering it while I wait for my car to be serviced lol, so thank you for that. XD

This is going to be a ramble, so buckle up. I'll put a tldr at the bottom for anyone potentially interested but with a small attention span, scroll to that. XD

Ok so what initially made me love the show is actually how I was introduced to it by a dear friend who had already seen it and we started watching together as a way to spend time together. 💗 I knew one of the officers was named Pete and I made jokes about always falling in love with the crime-solving Peters (I also love White Collar, Fringe, [parts of] the first season of Body of Proof actually I just love that Peter and nothing else and they did him dirty but I digress, and we can even throw Spidey into the mix). So I figured I would be a goner from the start and I was Correct, nonny.

I had such a good time watching with my friend (we especially loved screaming about how Jim is a dear and Pete is amazing, and also obligatory yelled "hi Mac!" every time he appeared, and how we would go from lol-ing to sobbing in two seconds flat every episode) that when she was unable to continue watching with me (😭) I kept on to finish. While I would have preferred to watch it all with her, I'm so happy she introduced me to this absolute gem of television and storytelling.

Ok, so beyond that: things that made me love the show specifically and that I think others should appreciate and watch it for (MY BELOVED FOLLOWERS GO WATCH ADAM 12, see below for reasons)....

1! The biggest is the two main characters. I LOVE PETE AND JIM SO DANG MUCH. They are the best TV officers, and two of my favorite characters. Especially Pete. But I love Jim's growth (they both have such beautiful arcs through the seriesssssss aaaaa) too. I love how he brings joy back to Pete. I love how Pete grounds Jim. I love how they love one another??? I love how protective they are of each other. One of the best character friendship tropes ever is "they make each other better" and Pete Malloy and Jim Reed are an excellent example of it. My whole heart.

2! If someone reading this was turned off by the fact that it is a show about two police officers, fair, but LISTEN. I love me a good procedural drama (see some of the mentions above), I love me a good buddy cop story. But you know what I hate? I hate how every single cop show has the characters do things cops should never do. These shows have a Problem of having their heroes go in without a warrant bc "it's an emergency, we don't have time for the red tape!" and rough up suspects and they don't hesitate to draw and fire on someone, and they bend or break the rules when it suits them to Get the Job Done. It irks me. For many reasons. AND ADAM 12 ISN'T LIKE THAT.

Pete especially lives by the book. And he teaches Jim to do the same. As a fun example, someone asks them to deliver a Christmas tree in their patrol car and Pete says no bc it's against the rules. But who goes to get the tree when off duty in his personal car??? Pete Malloy, with Jim in tow. Pete also turns in a dirty cop who saved his life and it is Devastating to watch. They do everything the right way and the Very Few times they don't it is clear that they Messed Up and they have to eat the consequences. For Pete, I can think of three times throughout the course of all the episodes that he clearly goes wrong. One time he is distracted, one time he is trying to save a life and endangers his own, and one time is really painful involving a child victim and the perpetrator and it's hard to watch and I can't imagine many people who wouldn't have done what he did there but the show even Addresses This and Pete says anyone who did what he did would have been wrong too and he faces the consequences without argument. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH GUYS. There are a couple dirty cops and cowboy cops shown in different episodes and they are Always shown to be in the wrong, to be jeopardizing everything that they should be holding dear. Even Ed Wells, a regular character, is a guy you love to hate bc he pushes the rules as much as he can get away with and Pete and Jim give him nothing but crap for it. XD Bless them.

3! I love the pacing! The episodes are half your standard episode length, which is great (terrible) for binging through lol. There is zero filler. Sometimes you want just a tiny bit more filler but it's so good, they just go pop pop pop from call to call, with Pete and Jim's relationship always playing out in the middle of whatever mess they are dealing with. Later seasons focus on a single story usually, but most early episodes are glimpses of an average day in the life of an LAPD officer and they are Rollercoasters.

4! It is surprisingly sensitive for a show made in the 60s-70s. There are definitely a few episodes that are a bit cringe to more modern sensibilities, especially dealing with racism. However! The stories featured there are actually done really well for the most part, and the heart is in the right place even if some of the writing is an unfortunate byproduct of the era. Also you have to laugh at the hippie slang that heavily douses some episodes, especially early on. It's a riot lol.

5! The series shows you these cops doing cop things that nobody thinks about: giving notice to a young woman about her husband's death, assisting other emergency departments, acting as peacemakers between various complaints, looking out for misplaced people, manning the front desk and phone calls, trying to keep people safe more often than trying to put bad guys in prison. I adore that. I think if more cop shows focused on that narrative, we would have more cops today who saw that as the true hero work. The show also explains early on how they don't often get the full story. Detectives and hospitals and lawyers and family members come in to clean up whatever mess the boys had to step into, and it sucks sometimes, but the final product is not usually their job, and they just have to take each call as it comes.

I could go on but this is already so long.

TL;DR

If you like procedural dramas (or maybe even if you don't) you should really give Adam 12 a try. Give it the first three episodes at least and see what you think.

It's a story about two officers who really embody "protect and serve" instead of whatever belligerent cowboy nonsense is pushed by most crime shows.

Pete and Jim would die for each other. They would also die for any random person they come across who needs their help, bc it's their job. They would also do mundane acts of service for each other (while griping affectionately about it) and anyone else.

It has so much heart.

IT'S REALLY FUNNY. PETE AND JIM ARE SO SASSY.

Pete has spidey senses. They are brilliant. He might also have a photographic memory. It was mentioned once and then never again lol.

If you like "clean" media, there is very little swearing/innuendo/gore/etc. This does not make it Light viewing, but it isn't problematic.

It will rip your heart out. Especially the episodes where it's one of the boys in jeopardy. 😭 "Hostage" and "The Search" and "The Princess and the Pig" and "Killing Ground" and "Suspended" and "Trouble in the Bank" and "Operation Action" and the finale stories my beloved and beloathed to name a few.

It will restore your faith in humanity, particularly of officers, even while you facepalm about people's stupidity (sometimes including the officers).

It has a good ending! Not the most complete tie-up of loose ends, but [spoiler] you know these guys are gonna be ok, whatever comes next. So you feel the fulfillment in the ending.

Ok I'm done now.

I love Adam 12 so much.

Thank you for asking. 😭😭😭😭