#i know a lot of us probably have shit options (mine is literally just labour or conservative)

[jakeperalta]

hello england mutuals I hope we are all voting in our local elections today!! last one before the general! you can check here for details on who/what/where! don't forget photo id!!

[porkchop-ao3]

I’m always here for FC Rick. Maybe what he does with female reader when the band isn’t touring and they’re taking time off?

This was a nice request… Thank you :)

-

I stared down at Rick as he slept. Face down, snores muffled by the pillow, he was completely naked aside from the leather choker around his neck that seemed ever present. I let my eyes roll down the ridges in his spine as it curved nicely down to his cute little ass. I smiled fondly, weirdly endeared by the pale, round cheeks that were so innocently exposed to me. The temptation to put my hands on him was real, but the last thing I wanted to do was wake him up. He needed his sleep, the poor guy.

He’d just finished a tour, covering twelve planets over eight Galaxy’s, and I knew it would’ve been months since he’d had a real chance to rest. Between the shows, the wild parties, the practice sessions and full on days of exploring each planet with me, he barely managed to get three hours a night. It didn’t help that he was spoon fed drugs and alcohol the entire time he was on tour, and despite what the bags under his eyes said he insisted he was never too tired to give me a good rogering. At this point his body was completely spent. It always was after his tours. That was why it had become a sort of tradition that he booked a week, sometimes more, in the swankiest hotel he could find on whatever alien planet we were on. He’d spend the time sleeping, and when he’d had enough of that he’d spend the rest of the time recuperating. We’d lounge around the hotel all day; watching TV, indulging in room service, and having lots and lots of laid back make out sessions.

Nothing was forced or took effort, the two of us made sure of that. We rarely left the room, unless the hotel had a pool or a hot tub somewhere; then we made sure to take advantage of it. While he was on tour, Rick was almost constantly surrounded by people, whether it be his band mates, his fans, or the people running the establishments they played at, it was tough for him to get a moment to himself. Sometimes I even felt bad about him having to spend time with me, when I knew he could use just a few hours of solitude. Of course Rick had scoffed at this, telling me I was being ridiculous. It made me feel better for a while, but I still gave him his space on the first couple of days after his tour. I only woke him up every now and then to get some food into him, other than that, I left him to it, often exploring the nearby area on my own.

We were on day three of our ‘vacation’, and Rick had been sleeping for the past fourteen hours. It was midday, and I knew he’d be waking up soon enough feeling hungry, so I went ahead and ordered some room service. Being on an alien planet, none of the food was familiar, and it was usually hit or miss as to whether what you received was palatable or not. But Rick and I had found a few solid options over the past couple of days, so I ordered those and wrapped up in the deep red silk kimono that Rick had bought for me about three tours ago. It was about the closest thing I got to ‘dressed’ on these occasions, it was a sort of unspoken rule that being naked was comfortable and was the most appropriate state to be in when one was recuperating. Plus it made sex a lot more convenient, with none of those pesky clothes to get in the way.

The food came quickly, and I opened the door to receive it from the scaly red humanoid who delivered it. I thanked them in English, and it seemed they understood, before I closed the door and wheeled the fancy trolley over to the bed. Rick stirred, probably smelling his late breakfast arriving. The food was all sweet in nature, and I assumed it was all made with unfamiliar fruit, native to this planet. There was something close to pastry incorporated into some of the dishes, others were gelatinous, some cold, some hot. They were all desert-like, and very yummy.

“Hey.” I said softly, taking a seat on the bed next to Rick as he opened his eyes, blinking up at me. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rolling onto his back.

“Mmm, food.” He mumbled, breathing in through his nose as he sat up. He leaned over to me, planting a kiss on the side of my head. “You’re an angel.” He told me, chuckling. He scooted to the edge of the bed and tucked into the food, munching away quietly for a while. I picked up one of the pastry items, since it looked too good to resist.

“Are you awake now?” I asked him. My question wasn’t literal, of course he was awake. But Rick knew what I was getting at.

“Y-yeah. I think I can grace you w-with my consciousness for a while.” He smirked. “That tour was a rough one, ho-how long have we been here for?” He asked, licking a blob of fruity goo from the corner of his mouth.

“This is the third day.” I told him. The days often blended together for him, since he slept for around eighty percent of the time.

“The th-third? Oh man. Sorry, y-you must’ve been bored shitless.” he said, and I laughed in response, shaking my head.

“I can have fun without you, you know.” I teased, polishing off the pastry and licking my fingers. He raised a brow at me and spun to face me, bringing one leg up onto the bed and hooking it behind me, scooting himself closer.

“Is-is that so?” He asked, and I nodded my head. “So what have you been doing?”

“I went for a walk around the city yesterday, looked in some of the shops. I didn’t buy anything; the clothes here are… very strange.” I snorted. The fashion on this planet was exactly how old sci-fi films interpreted futuristic fashion; everything was either metallic silver or transparent. “There’s a nice park down the road, it has a pond with all sorts of weird fish in it. I spoke to an alien there who knew English.”

“What did’ya talk about?” He asked with a mouthful of food.

“Mostly about earth. They don’t get many human visitors here, do they?” I said, and Rick shook his head, a laugh escaping him.

“Nowhere does. You and I are the only hu-humans with the ability to travel to different planets and di-dimensions.” He reminded me and I nodded my head, glancing over at the buffet.

“Oh yeah. I forget I’m dating the smartest human being in existence, sometimes.” I smirked. Rick hummed in approval, his chest puffing out slightly at the flattery. “So I’ve got you all to myself for the next few days, hmm?”

“If-if you want me.” He confirmed. I hooked two fingers in the ring on his choker, and urged him close to me. I pressed a kiss to his lips, he tasted sugary and sweet, and I ran my tongue over his bottom lip out of instinct. He chuckled and pulled away slightly, denying me access. “You’re gonna want me t-to brush my teeth. It’s been th-three days.” He told me, and I let him go, dropping down onto my back, sinking into the puffy cushions beneath me.

“Like I care. I’ve put my tongue in worse places.” I said, and he gave a deep laugh.

“True. B-but even I think my mouth tastes like shit.” He said, stuffing his face a little more before disappearing to the bathroom. I closed my eyes and waited, planting my hands behind my head as I relaxed into the impossible softness of the bed. I didn’t know what the hell these aliens used to stuff their mattresses, but humans were sleeping on goddamn rocks back at home.

I didn’t hear Rick return, but I felt his hands tug on the tie around my waist that was keeping my kimono together; he parted the silk, exposing my body to him. I hummed pleasantly as he pressed his face into my stomach, dragging his nose and his lips up my body, planting wet kisses on my skin. His thumbs rubbed circles on my hip bones, and he crawled up my body, kissing my nipples one by one before moving his attention up to my neck. I pushed my fingers into his hair, staring up at the ceiling as he showered me with affection. His tongue drew dainty patterns up to my ear, and he took a moment to suck on my earlobe. He then nibbled on the shell of my ear, before moving his lips to my face. I stared at his closed eyes as he dotted my face with kisses, before finally giving me what I needed and connecting our lips.

His kiss was slow and passionate, his lips moving with mine almost like a dance. If I had to pick a genre, it would be the tango. I trailed my hands up his back, tangling my fingers in his hair as he nipped at my lip, soothing me quickly after with a gentle sweep of his tongue. I coaxed his tongue into my mouth, continuing that dance in the warmth of our mouths. He moaned and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, rolling onto his back and pulling me on top of him. There was no urgency in our movements, no burning need to advance the situation, we simply enjoyed the kiss as it was.

Rick fiddled with the tie of my kimono, running his fingers down the strip of silk before holding onto my waist. It was my turn to explore his body with my mouth, and I broke the kiss to press my lips underneath his jaw, feeling the prickly brush of his stubble. I secretly loved it when he went a few days without shaving; a stubble really suited him. I grazed my teeth over his neck, hooking my fingers once again in the ring on his choker, giving little tugs. My lips followed the planes of his body down to his chest, and I let my hand continue the journey on down to his abdomen, feeling the subtle muscle tone there, and how it contracted when my touch stooped low. I straightened up, looking down at his eyes; they were glazed over with adoration, and it made my heart swell.

His hands moved to cup my breasts and he sat up to bury his face there, nipping and sucking on the soft flesh. I gave breathy moan, reaching my hand down to where his cock lay against his hip, half hard. I stroked him gently, hearing his breath become laboured as I worked him to his full length. Once he was there, I pushed him onto his back by his shoulders, adjusting my position so I could grind my pussy up and down his hard length. He pushed his hips up into me, exhaling with a hiss and a grunt. I played with my breasts above him, giving him a show as I coated his erection with my own lubrication. He reached out to thumb my clitoris, stroking it in quick circles.

I was a panting mess by the time he gripped my hips and rolled me off of him. He guided me to lay on my side, my back to him, and he brought a hand behind my knee, lifting it up so he could slide his cock between my legs. He entered me from behind, and quickly began rocking into me. I whimpered and leaned my head back against his shoulder, holding onto the sheets below me for support. He kissed my neck as he thrust into me, reaching his hand down to work my clit again.

His pace quickened, and so did my heart rate, I could do no more than gasp and pant and take it. Rick murmured unintelligibly into my ear, and I could only manage to pick up the occasional word. “Beautiful… so good, I’m gonna… I love… baby.”

His other hand snaked underneath me and could just about reach my breast, he pawed at me, squeezing and pinching my nipple, gently rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The stimulation that simply surrounded me was becoming too much, and I could feel my end draw closer. Rick seemed to sense this, and fucked me harder, the bed rocking with the force of it, the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin sounding out across the otherwise quiet room. The two of us became more vocal, Rick’s heavy breaths and deep grunts were a constant, along with my breathy sighs and pathetic sounding little mewls.

“Cum for me. I know y-you’re close.” Rick whispered into my ear. “Mmm, I can feel it with how tight and wet you are. I’m gonna nut so fuckin’ hard. Are you ready baby?” He purred, and I shook violently, my muscles coiled as I teetered on the edge. “Unng, fuck, p-please…” he suddenly wailed, sounding desperately aroused, and those words finally pushed me off that edge.

“Fuck! Mmm, fu-” I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut as he fucked me through each intense wave of my orgasm. Rick laughed in delight behind me, but it was cut in half by a sharp intake of breath. I opened my eyes in time for him to pull out of me, rub his cock against my slit a few times before I had the pleasure of watching him shoot his load between my legs. It spurted across the mattress at an impressive distance, and he bit down on my shoulder to stop the slew of curses that usually poured from his mouth during orgasm, instead all I heard was a broken wail and heavy, shaky breaths. It sure was a beautiful thing to witness, and I moaned in appreciation.

With a pleased sigh, he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him so my head was laying on his chest and his arm was draped around my waist. I laid there being gently rocked by the heavy rise and fall of his chest, and placed my hand over his. Neither of us said a word, not feeling the need to fill the silence. Rick planted a kiss on the top of my head, and I knew right then that I’d found a keeper.

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #5 (1978)

It seems improbable that this comic book would run for 300 issues.

The United Kingdom has way too much history for such a small island. And being American, I know about 3% of it. I know there were some kings and queens, some named Elizabeth and others named George and then some guy named Oliver who fit in there somehow despite not being a king or queen. I know there are four nationalities that make up the country: Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and the boring one. I know there's a dragon on the Welsh flag and their language has too many consonants, probably because they spent so much time in mines. I know the Scottish only eat deep fried Mars bars. I know the Irish had some troubles because some of the Irish aren't British or something. And I know all the stupid political crap the American Republican party are going to do because they simply follow the Tory playbook a few months to a year after the Tories have pulled some racist bullshit. And it's not just the Tories! Seeing what the centrist Labour party members did to sabotage their own party is simply a window into what our centrist Democrats would love to do to the Leftists (and may have done! But they just haven't been exposed yet like the jerks in the Labour party). Also, and this might not seem like British History so much as a personal experience, I once fist bumped Jimmy Carr after he made a joke about me fucking pigeons. That was only one of the many times he took the piss out of me at the show. But I knew what I was getting into when I purchased front row tickets for Jimmy Carr. All that being said (terribly summed up and horribly accounted), I knew even less when I first read this story at 21. I didn't know the "Pigts" were a pun on "Picts." I just thought it was a stupid name for a loin cloth wearing tribe of people named after breakfast foods. That was good enough for me! But maybe this issue will be even funnier if I read the Wikipedia entry on Picts! Or scan the entry, at least. Or, at the very least and the most probable option, click on the link, read a few sentences, and realize I don't really care that much. I should probably read more non-fiction so that I actually know things about the world rather than reading another Lando Calrissian book until I know all the rules to Sabacc. In "A Note from the Publisher," Deni Loubert explains how this issue of Cerebus caused a lot of stress between the publisher and the artist due to money concerns. But in the end, Deni put in a lot of her money and solved the problem. I guess one of the few things Dave found possible to believe before breakfast was that his spouse would support him both financially and emotionally while he pursued his dreams. Dave's Swords of Cerebus essay went on for more than one page in its original printing and whoever reprinted it here forgot that there were a few extra paragraphs. So it's reprinted incomplete. That's okay because the bulk of it is about all the shortcuts he takes in drawing rain and shadows and how it's evident, as you progress through the story, how much sloppier and lazier his art becomes. But at the end, Dave Sim supplies a Gil Kane quote which made him think long and hard about how he was developing the story of Cerebus. I'd like to scan the quote but it's cut off halfway through because, as I said, somebody forgot the second page of the essay. Luckily I just happen to own the second volume of Swords of Cerebus, so I'll just type it out in a block quote.

"The difference between a comic book and a novel is not labor, not effort, it's the values. In other words, there are no meaningful values in a comic book. The people in comic books are two dimensional people going through the most elementary kind of situations, not enough to sustain anybody's interest beyond an adolescent. A novel has characterization, it has suspense, it has a structured situation full of substantial values that will hold the interest of an intelligent person. That's what I mean. Those values, if they're properly translated — Harvey Kurtzman translated them into comics. His comics were literate, they were intelligent, they were humane, they were interesting, they were funny, they were everything."

There's a second paragraph to the quote but it just brings up more inaccurate things that can be debated ad nauseam. I could argue with a lot of what Gil Kane says but he sort of argues my point at the end anyway with his discussion of Harvey Kurtzman. Basically, it depends on the author and what the author wants to bring to the comic book. Sure, characterization of a character that isn't really supposed to change much because the fans want what the fans have been getting (Batman, for instance) can be tough to pull off. But Gil Kane gets at my main problem with comic book fans who follow characters, buying any story their favorite is a part of: the characterization and story are entirely dependent on the current writer. And some writers just don't fucking care about anything except shitting out another script so they get paid. You'll find a lot of good examples of those kinds of writers in the beginning years of DC's The New 52 as they pretty much hired all of the worst writers from Marvel to launch some of their New 52 titles. Comic books make it easy for writers to write two dimensional characters and be satisfied with the garbage they produce. Fans just want another Batman story. Just stick Harley Quinn in there and it'll sell fifty thousand copies easy. Who cares who writes it as long as they always make their deadline. But that's not a flaw of the medium of comic books! That's a flaw of the writers and/or fans! The main takeaway with the Gil Kane quote is that it was nice that Dave Sim read it and thought about it and applied it to Cerebus. Maybe, at later points, he applies it too much! But if it got Dave to thinking about a larger story and a greater world chock full of characters with different ideologies and beliefs and motivations, I'll allow it to exist without being too hard on it. That's a lot of words. I need to shove a picture in here already.

This is what Page One of a Cerebus comic book looked like before Gerhard. "Pretty fucking awesome," you curse like a sailor. Later, by page four when the horizon has disappeared and the rain is simply ruler-straight vertical lines, you'll be thinking, "When the fuck does Dave hire Gerhard?"

Cerebus has found himself in the Red Marches where he's about to learn a little something about Cerebus from a bunch of long haired shirtless dudes. It's almost like when I was 17 at my first Iron Maiden show surrounded by sweaty shirtless men while I listened to Iron Maiden sing "Sun and Steel" and I thought, "Is this history?" Then later they sang "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and I was all, "I am learning!" I'm so glad I'm writing on the Internet so I don't have to hear anybody say, "What are you talking about? How are those two things alike, you moron?!" Besides, I said it was "almost" like, imaginary jerkos! The nearly naked men convince Cerebus to follow them back to their underground kingdom so he can meet Bran Mak Mufin, the greatest military leader in all of Estarcion. Plus he has an aardvark fetish so he's really going to want to meet Cerebus, no matter how badly Cerebus smells. See, the joke in this issue (which Dave mentions at the beginning of the essay I didn't scan) is that Cerebus' fur smells terrible when it gets wet. It's pretty funny if you think about how bad that could be! Like, really bad! Ha ha!

If he's so fucking great, why is he only the penultimate swordsman? My guess is because of Cerebus!

Look at that rain! That's the rain of an artist who doesn't fucking give a shit! When the fuck does Dave hire Gerhard? Bran Mak Mufin takes one look at Cerebus and has the kind of orgasm you have when you realize the prophecy has finally been fulfilled. Man, those are the best orgasms.

We could use a few good Pigts these days.

I'd forgotten this aspect of the Pigts. One thing I do remember is that Bran Mak Mufin was my favorite member of Cerebus's cabinet as Prime Minister. Wasn't he the only one to ever try to do the right thing? And doesn't he eventually walk away because of how terrible they're all acting? Or does he only finally leave when he believes they're going to be defeated, thus exposing the weakness of his own faith? Bran mentions the Black Tower Empire which, I'm assuming, is an empire which first caused the Black Tower to ascend, something Cerebus will manage later. We learn Cerebus is 26 which probably made me feel good when I first read this in that way you feel youthfully immortal when the protagonist of the story is older than you. Now I'm twenty years older than that and I can tell you the feeling is best described as enervating. Bran Mak Mufin offers to let Cerebus rest so they can talk refreshed in the morning. While trying to sleep, Cerebus hears some strange noises and heads off to investigate.

Notice the Cerebus-shaped heads on the walls. The Chosen One is about to discover he's the protagonist of this story.

I know there's a shot of a huge aadvark statue coming up that I could have scanned instead. I'm working my way up to that revelation! Cerebus spies on a large gathering of Pigts (no more than fifty since that's the size of Bran's army) to learn that he's the reincarnation of some ancient God-King worshiped by the Pigts. The prophecy even says that he will come to them in his 26th year! Holy smokes! You couldn't write this kind of prophecy! For a moment, Cerebus is tempted to assume the role of the Pigts' Redeemer God. I guess this is his "last temptation" moment. But his narcissism wins out over his greed. He would rather be Cerebus the Unique than Cerebus the Guy Who's Just Another Version of that Other Long Dead Guy. He smashes the statue that I forgot to mention and flees the Pigts' nonsense, heading towards Iest. Nothing to say about Aardvark Comment. Just some aardvark lovers getting their aardvark love on. It was embarrassing. Cerebus #5 Rating: B+. This issue is the first to give an inkling of something bigger happening across a longer story. It's still before Dave Sim decided he was going for 300 issues dedicated to the growth of the titular beast. But any time you can make the scope of the protagonist's world bigger, it makes for a more compelling story. I'm definitely more compelled after this issue!