#so it's not like it takes a ton of higher brain function

[takethistoyourstardust]

i should lock the absolute fuck in for grand fest… BUT what if i had some weed beforehand. i’m already ass at splatoon might as well make it funny for me.

[mychlapci]

Broody Carriers!! There's this fic on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/58022971#main (I'm on mobile so I'm not sure it'll work, it's called Brooding Brain and is a Jazz/Prowl fic.) and it scratches my brain so good. Just what I needed to add to my personal headcanons regarding carriers.

Personally, I prefer mechs laying eggs over live birth. Makes more sense in my brain and some species, like chickens, get broody when it's time to lay some eggs. Prefect to add to my egg-laying carriers. And because my favorite pairing is TFA Megop (as you might have noticed from some other asks you've gotten lately, I'm just going to refer to myself as Rozie Anon from now on) most of the word vomit I'm throwing at you is based on them.

So, Optimus is usually the one to get sparked, so I'm gonna focus on his brooding state. (Imagine this is some vague peacetime au and Megop is already established as conjunxes.)

At the beginning when he first gets sparked - once he's gotten over the shock and subsequent urge to murder his conjux - things are going pretty smoothly for the first trimester. His body is reconfiguring itself to better support the bitties and is putting on weight due to the cravings of various material. From hard metals like iron and titanium to soft, precious, metals like gold and silver. Energon prepared in different ways like extravagant, well-crafted and nutritious, 5-course meals or just the raw crystal to munch on. (I like to imagine he has a small hoard of various, common to hard-to-find, non-perishables. Gold and silver nuggets, coins, and chains, crystals either energon or otherwise, even shed armor pieces that would have normally been smelt down. It's like a little dragon hoard :3c)

His hips have widened with his growing belly and his thighs are thicker to accommodate for the shift in weight. He has the same pregnant thought process of "Oh Primus, I'm getting fat, I'm fat! My conjux is never going to want to touch me again!" Megatron has to reassure him that he's just a beautiful as before and honestly to him, he looks even more so, if that was even possible.

Second trimester comes around and Optimus is starting to get achy. He's starting to get more and more moody and, well, broody, as time goes on. He's crafted a wonderful little nest which Megatron pitched in for finding the right size frame, mattress, and buying a shit-ton of material for it. (He's a warlord, it's fine, he's got the funds to spare, anything for his wifey.) Optimus starts complaining his back and feet ache, his protoform has gotten more sensitive, and his titties are finally swelling. Megatron pulls out all the stops for him, back rubs and foot baths, massages (that often turn into back-blowing sex), milking his swollen titties, and just generally spoiling his wife rotten.

Optimus finds that it's getting harder and harder to concentrate, he's reluctant to leave the nest, and he starts getting more snippy and aggressive with anyone other than Megatron. He once snapped at Strika for something minor and then began apologizing profusely, only for her to laugh and say that she knew he didn't mean it, he's brooding and can't control himself. In fact she says Lugnut's brooding state was worse when they had their bitties. He's really more of a hissing kitten compared to Lugnut.

By the time he's in his third trimester and his due date is coming up, all his higher brain functions are shutting down quickly and his core temperature has risen. He rarely ever leaves the nest anymore and can really only get out one word answers for things like "fuel", "energon", "cuddles?", and "spark". The only time where Optimus is more or less cognizant at this point is when they're spark-merging. Spark-merging for a Carrier, especially with the sire of the sparklings, is one of the main ways to properly stabilize the sparks. It takes a lot of strain on the Carrier's spark to support the clutch (for Optimus, a clutch of five), and sharing sparks with the sire or another mech with a close relationship helps lift that stress. It's also a good bonding experience for the bitties even before they hatch.

Optimus is still getting railed and milked even while broody though. With his higher brain functions shut down, all there is left is instinct, and he's become Horny As Fuck. Being horny and broody at the same time makes him insatiable. Megatron is the only one who can properly satisfy him because he's the only one who can get close enough to him without the threat of getting mauled. He was basically getting fucked 24/7 before, but now Megatron has to tie Optimus up and set a sex machine on him so he can take a break.

Finally, his bitties are ready to be laid. The eggs are bigger than expected so it's a tight squeeze and long labor. Megatron is by his side the whole time, coxxing Optimus through the whole process with Ratchet as the mid-wife (the only other person that was able to get close to him). And once the eggs are out, Optimus immediately sets upon laying on them, all his vents open to dump as much heat as possible on them. Eggs need to be kept at a very specific temperature, which is why incubators were created, but it would take a few months before Optimus would be coherent enough to allow them to be moved to an incubator.

After those months are up and Optimus has started coming back to his senses, Megatron is able to convince him to move the eggs to the incubator. And once they're safe and secure, it doesn't take long for Optimus to regain his composure. He's still a little moody and occasionally takes an egg or two out of the incubator to place in his pouch (I like to think they also have a marsupial-esque pouch to carry the bitties while their either still in their eggs or still small enough to fit, the pouch can get up to forging temperatures for eggs), but is otherwise back to normal.

Until Megatron knock him up again.

ohhh inch resting... broody carriers are certainly fun, and i draw extreme satisfaction from imagining a tuckered out Optimus all splayed out over his precious eggs... He's all hazy and hyper-protective of his clutch, not even Megatron could tear him away from them. It's best to leave the happy little carrier alone...

[nero-onlooking-archive]

I'm a big fan of demon hybrids having animal traits in the sense they're technically demon traits but plenty demon designs are based off animals to some degree, and I'm a biology enthusiast. So here's some of mine:

-Neros demon arm in dmc 4 is a result of his body trying to protect him. Similar to scaring, because he got attacked by a demon and it's noted he thought it was infected his body's immune response to being expose to demon (germs? Fluid? Breaking of the skin in general?) Was to basically activate his DT form in that one area likely to stave off infection and or prevent future damage. Again like scarring in humans. My supporting evidence is in DMC 5 Neros demon arm has changed to look like his according DT trigger. This is not to say DT forms are basically trauma, but that as a bodies defensive measure is less stable and functional the younger you are. Bc most of your bodies resources are going towards growing and hormones.

- Dante eating pizza with like almost all toppings could reasonably be backed as being because be it just using his guns or taking a DT form it's gonna be quite physically taxing. Carbs provide energy, it woukd realistically burn a ton of energy to do things like shapeshift. (You could make a case of this applying a similar way to V where functionally being split in two (6 counting Gryphon nightmare shadow phantom) means vergil was already running on fumes and Urizen just got most of it hence he still needed the qliphoth fruit for power. But also why even when eating it afterwards Vergil is still basically on equal footing as Dante. It basically just got Vergil at a healthy...everything. and it may be why Griffon Shadow and Nightmare weren't merged back in as well (yes symbolism obv but lemme support it with this) because the fruit was like a extreme multivitamin griffon shadow and Nightmare would be akin to like overdosing on vitamins. (This is also why Neros arm is basically in a DT state in dmc 4 but otherwise his DT is like a shadow. It's a lot of energy so this is his bodies closest thing it can manage due to energy but i wouldnt rule out age too as Dante had no issue going full DT at 18) this may also be why Nero can have his DT arms out without transforming fully into a DT form but also may just be bc he's 1/3rd demon

- Urizens form having so many eyes is a result of him still getting some of vergils trauma bc ptsd shows up as hyper vigilance/more activity in the brain.

- Neros DT form in dmc 4 and 5 both has downward horns akin to vergils dmc 3 DT form but also they are wing like in a way that reminds me of Credos Angelo form (esp in the chest) and his chin spikes are like Dantes DT form in 5. I think this is like half formed by genetics half formed by experiences in a way bc of those details. this also explains despite being idential twins dantes and vergils DT forms are so different. (Dante will never say it but he wishes his wings were also an extra pair of hands this is because he could eat more slices of pizza at a time)

- yknow how in some ways horns make cooling off easier because it pulls an animals blood out of their body through said horns to be cooled and then go back in the body? Dante and Nero can use this to cool off but Vergils broken horns don't allow this.

- bc Nero has more of a reptile/raptor motif and Vergils is more on the fish side with fin mentions I interpret this as Neros scales are made of kertaine like hair and Vegils are made of Dentine like teeth.

-until Nero regret a human arm his DT formed arm shed. This normally doesn't happen for Dante and vergil but that's bc theyre not in their DT forms 24/7.

I ALSO THOUGHT THE SAME ABOUT NEROS ARM!!

I always thought that the reason why dante never got carpal tunnel from pulling the trigger of ebony n ivory sm is because his body would heal it before it got a chance. Vergil's horns could also be broken because his internal body temp is MUCH higher than his kin, and therefore that xtra heat in his hosts is still being vented despite how broken they are?? idk.

[tj-dragonblade]

Would love to hear about Treasure for the WIP game

Okay, this one's shameless pwp from a few smut prompts last spring (jewelry, make-up, finger-fucking, piercings, and panties). It's nothing but an excuse to have Dream dolled up in lace panties and stockings and heels and tons of jewelry (piercings and otherwise, including a tiara) and gothy makeup, and let Hob take him apart a few times. It may develop emotional themes as we go; time will tell. The very beginning is still in progress but doesn't need much; the full first orgasm is written and whenever the mood strikes I'm working on orgasms 2-4. An excerpt, heading into nsfw territory:

"You named me your treasure," Dream purrs, fingers toying with the back of Hob's hair, low down at the nape of his neck.

Ah. Yes. He does vaguely remember such an endearment slipping from him just last week, panted helplessly into Dream's mouth while Dream undulated slow and relentless in his lap.

"I have. Adorned myself, accordingly."

"I mean. Treasure's not just gems and fine fabric and precious metals, y'know. Can be…anything, really." He doesn't know why that's what comes out of his mouth, except that Dream decked out like this, straddling his lap, leaning in close—it's shorted all his higher brain functions and his mouth is just running on auto-pilot, apparently.

Dream pulls back, the first hints of a pout showing on his ebony mouth. "Do you wish to argue semantics or do you wish to plunder your treasure?" His head tilts up, haughty and aristocratic, tiara enhancing the effect. "Or do I need to change into something more to your liking?"

"Please don't." Hob grips tighter at Dream's bony hips, forcefully re-engaging his capacity to think. "This is, in fact, very much to my liking. Sorry I'm no good at poetry, but you look…bloody amazing. Delectable. Wanna lay you out on an altar and worship, you're so damn pretty."

Dream's self-satisfied smirk returns, at that. "Then worship me upon the altar of your lap, Hob Gadling." He presses closer, sinks gentle teeth into Hob's lower lip and pulls, letting it slide free easily. He reaches somewhere and thunks a bottle of lube down onto the table beside them. "I crave your touch, the talents of your fingers within me."

"Of course, yes. Anything you like, whatever you want. But first—" he grips Dream under the thighs, hefts him up with a mighty grunt, rising half out of his chair to turn and deposit Dream onto the table "—first, let's have a proper look at you." He sits back enough to see all of Dream and Dream smiles slightly, indulgent.

"As you wish, then. Look your fill of the treasure before you." He plants his hands behind him, tilts his head up, spreads his legs wide, invitation written into every line of his body.

And Hob. He appreciates every detail of how Dream's dolled himself up, the stockings and heels and makeup and the jewels adorning everything; he truly does, but right now his focus is narrowing quickly. His hands go to Dream's thighs without thought, smoothing over the black pearls and the rubies sewn into the lace bands topping the sheer silk stockings, moving up to edge under the lace wrapping Dream's hips. He leans in, brushes lips to Dream's sternum beneath the looping strings of jewels, glances up to catch Dream gazing fondly down at him as he moves lower; it's a look that makes it impossible to hold back his words.

"God, do you know what a hard cock in fancy lace does to me? And when it's you?" He presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft flat of Dream's belly as he goes, tonguing the navel piercing briefly.

"Perhaps," Dream allows, so smugly that it's clear the panties were no coincidental serendipity on his part. His fingers thread into Hob's hair, a gentle hold round the back of his head as Hob mouths lower, and Dream leans back accommodatingly.

WIP List

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Had a weird nightmare about a cult

It was in a church, just an average protestant midsized church, you would expect boy scout meetings in the backroom kind of a place. I was there with some anonymous friend/ acquaintance, the pretty older girl from high-school who was popular and yet genuinely nice, her mom is friends with your mom, her family is well known and well liked, offending her would be social suicide not because of anything she would do but because everyone you know would take her side and grant her victim status because she's just so nice.

She had invited me to some function and I was going out of curiosity and obligation, which is the only reason I'm ever in a church anyways. I was guaranteed to know people there, in the same roundabout, you-know-people-I-know kinda way.

Because its about to be relevant, I'm wearing skinny jeans and a sort of blousey black tank top. I've also got black nail polish and thats a fully normal irl outfit for me. Maybe a bit casual for a Sunday-best style church function, but I was not under the impression that's what I was going to.

I show up and am promptly ushered into the coat closet because what I am wearing is completely unacceptable. (I'm calling it a coat closet because that's what it is, but the churches in my area all have a full sized room set aside for outerwear storage because for half the year everyone shows up in a full down parka and that takes up a ton of space)

Anyway, I'm like, "oh shit I didn't realize this was formal, I can run home and change if its okay that I'm a few minutes late, or if someone has a spare dress I'll wear that" which is also something I have done irl. No one ever tells me anything but I'm small and can cinch down big waistlines and make it look intentional that I'm wearing wildly misfit clothing. So like, the dream is getting weird but in the same way that my real actual life gets wierd.

So then she hands me what is fundamental the same thing I'm already wearing, a pair of slightly darker wash skinny jeans that are slightly higher waisted and with more spandex and buttons, and a black polyester/lycra cropped tank top, which is a shirt I've been looking for irl. And she's apologetic about it, as in, "sorry 😞, hope these fit, 😔 might be a little small"

It's a transparent body shaming attempt, because everything is a xs or a size zero, and meant to make you feel uncomfortable and ungainly in too small clothes, but its so badly executed that I just kinda roll with it, like, okay 🤨. Also I like the tank top.

So I change, and she's finding me a bag to stash my clothes in, and some dude sticks his head in the coat closet as I've got one leg in the new pants. And the whole thing feels so very staged, like I'm supposed to be embarrassed about squeezing into too tight pants in front of some acquaintances hot older brother. Either that or my brain is trying to set up some bad porno wet dream and none of the options are working.

Because the pants fit fine and if you have somehow reached adulthood and are scandalized by the sight of a thigh you're the wierd one for being raised under a rock by blind snakes. So I'm figuring out how to fit my phone and wallet into my waistband because these pants don't have pockets and trying to remember whats-his-faces name, I'm almost certain it starts with a j and I've definitely heard it before but I can probably get away with claiming I mixed him up with someone else and not be considered rude, Jacob? Jason? Jeremy? Jed? Oh wait, is he somebody's boyfriend rather than somebody's brother?

But now he's holding my hand and tut-tuting over my nails because I absolutely cannot have black nails, and wouldn't I prefer a nice dusty pink?

At which point I think I kinda woke myself up because the no rice on Tuesdays tactic of high control groups popped into my head, by name, as that specific phrase, and I went "hmm, yep, this is weird, gimme my shit I'm leaving"

But that only conjured up the first girls mom, complete with a really nice travel duffle with my clothes in it. So I'm yanking my clothes out of the bag, because if I take the bag and leave they're going to want it back and that gives them another opening for things they think you owe them. Anyways shes dissapointed in me, in that performative manipulation kinda way. She says something like if I wanted her daughters shirt I can just have it, heavily implying that I'm causing a scene and being an unreasonable bitch, at which point it occurs to me that it's fucking wierd that they have clothes this small at all because everyone in the building is at least 6 inches taller than I am.

Whats-his-face is still hovering and now he's got a hand on my shoulder thats meant to be reassurance and all I can think is wow you guys are really bad at this. I can hear people in the next room and I know they're people like, my grandparents friends and prospective employers and other important social connections and I need to get out of here without making a scene, which isn't gonna happen.

At some point I said Jesus Christ in the context of a frustrated curse word, which they all jumped on and said I needed to let the lord into my heart or some shit. To which sleepytime subconscious responded to with CAUSE A SCENE AND CONTROL THE NARRATIVE!!!

So I raised my voice loud enough to be heard in the other room and told the guy to get his hands off me or I would punch him in the dick. And because no one believes you when you tell them you're going to punch them in the dick he did not take his hands off me and was calmly and rationally requesting that I calm down and be civil so I followed through and punched him in the dick.

Committing physical violence in a dream always wakes me up, pretty much immediately, but I did get a few glimpses of storming out through a crowd, yelling about entitled pricks in closets and if anyone ever felt like leaving the cult I would give them a hand.

So yeah. What's your religious trauma look like?

[likeamothtoalighthouse]

UNTITLED ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE PROJECT LORE DUMP

THE WORLD

This is a pretty typical post-zombie-apocalyptic setting, with the main distinction being that instead of it being mad max nonsense It's focused on a pretty chill and normal village/commune/safe zone called the Orchard. The story is set like 100-150 years after the apocalypse, but culture has shifted more rapidly than usual due to 1) the massive change in everyone's lifestyle on account of the apocalypse, 2) the sheer number of people who died, taking with them tons of culture and information, and 3) the fact that the internet and most modern technology doesn't exist anymore because who the fuck is maintaining it. I need to do some more concrete worldbuilding stuff here but it will happen.

In this universe there is a "zombie virus" but it's like. It basically eats the part of the brain that lets it feel pain and drastically reduces higher cognitive function. People affected are technically "alive" but they're like salmon swimming upstream; their bodies are falling apart and rotting while still alive, but since they can't feel pain they aren't incapacitated and don't notice. Theoretically a zombie kept in a completely safe environment wouldn't get all nasty and rotting and stuff but the brainmelting tends to make them get injured a lot and then they just kind of walk around getting injured and infected and gangrenous and decaying and it's just really gross and bad times. It is transmissible via bite but also any other bodily fluid which means yes it is technically an STD. Do not fuck the zombies. Anyways it's basically just Sci-Fi Rabies because rabies is like. the scariest disease.

THE CAST

AVERY HARTMAN: Farmer, trans woman, tea enjoyer, literally just wants to have a normal life with her wife and malewife but NOOOO the evil mad scientist lady is in a one-sided toxic yuri situationship with her and is making it her problem. Grew up in the orchard, started going on trade runs to other towns once she was old enough, on one of those trade runs ended up getting kidnapped by Dr. Alekseyeva's lab. Cue aforementioned toxic yuri and then once she gets the fuck out of there a very long process of getting back home. Fun times for no one except me :)

HARLOWE UNDERWOOD: ok so yknow how the concept of this universe is "what if the apocalypse were way more chill than people think its gonna be"? Well that's not entirely true. the Orchard is a nice chill area but there are 100% groups out there doing mad max shit for absolutely no reason. Harlowe was raised by one of these groups after they raided her home as a young child; she grew up with them and fully drank the Power Is Only Attained Through Violence kool-aid until she was severely injured and left to die during a raid on the Orchard. There she met Micah and Avery who kind of collaboratively rehabilitated her into being a functioning person. She also has a lot of memory issues; she's basically lost her memory of her entire childhood except for little snippets, and she deals with memory loss way more than like. The average person in their mid twenties.

MICAH RAMOS: The only normal and well adjusted guy in this story. And he's not even that normal. He's the Laios Dungeonmeshi of the zombie apocalypse. He's autistically fascinated by the zombie virus and trying to find some sort of vaccine or preventative measure. Nominally a doctor and actually very good at that job, but his real passion is studying the zombie virus. After Avery gets kidnapped and comes back he sort of becomes the idk... main emotional support of the polycule? Like Avery's always filled the role of being The One Everyone Can Go To and then she can't do that anymore and it's definitely a struggle trying to fill this role that he's not really built for. Very intentional parallels and contrasts to Dr. Alekseyeva in terms of worldview, approach to science, approach to finding a cure for the virus, etc. Really what it boils down to is that Micah is a deeply compassionate person and will always put others first, while Dr. Alekseyeva is blinded by her goals and lofty ideas of success. Speaking of her:

DR. OPHELIA ALEKSEYEVA: Evil scientist, has big dreams of being the one to find a "cure" for the zombification bullshit. Part of a faction descended from the ultra-rich who just went into their private bunkers when the apocalypse happened; her group split off about a generation ago and came to the surface to research a cure instead of just waiting forever. Her theory is that there's a gene that gives certain people resistance to the virus, hence all the kidnapping people (namely Avery) to do experiments on. Eventually she sort of snaps and gives up on the cure for a variety of reasons, and instead goes down the route of trying to create human superweapons to kill all of the zombies. This plan is terrible on every level but she's fully lost it by this point. Anyways im obsessed with her shes so unethical <3

There are other minor characters but they're much less fleshed out and I don't really know what I'm doing with them yet. We'll see

[discyours]

I remember reading about your issues with prozac (or some other ssri medication?) i wonder if the horrible feelings you experienced slowly went away and if you took chance and tried another med (or maybe you still are on some?) where you stand on the topic of psychiatric meds overall?

Oh wow it's weird seeing someone reference something I posted about 4 years ago. Yeah, I was on prozac and basically went insane. The period is kind of a blur for me, I think I started taking it in late June and stopped early September. I started feeling like somewhat of a human being again in like... January? Maybe february? It definitely took a lot longer than just the 4 weeks after which it was meant to be out of my system.

I honestly feel like I never 100% recovered from it. I've talked to my cousin about it since, he was also on prozac and he said he permanently lost his ability to feel emotions the way he used to. He goes through things that should make him sad, realizes it should make him sad, but it just doesn't hit him. I don't feel quite the same way but it's similar. I'm just disconnected from myself. Things don't really feel like they're happening to me. I feel like I'm floating through life in a body that's not mine, I'm not quite a person, etc.

I genuinely believe that prozac nearly killed me and I will never, ever try another SSRI. "Try it all and see what sticks" protocol can go fuck itself. But my anxiety got to unbearable severity earlier this year, which did get me to try 2 new medications.

I was prescribed lorazepam for emergencies and still have 90% of it sitting in my closet. Don't understand how people get hooked on benzos, it helped me fall asleep but without actually calming me or my body down in any way and getting a full night's sleep while you're wired the whole time is a distinctly unpleasant experience. When I was able to get an appointment with a psychiatrist he gave me the standard recommendation of either trying another SSRI or moving on to an SNRI (same list of side effects, generally prescribed less often because the risk of side effects is higher, no studies on how likely you are to experience them if you've previously had a bad reaction to an SSRI). I did a bunch of my own research and he agreed to let me try buspirone instead on the condition that I would move on to an SNRI if that didn't work (which I did not stick to lmao). Buspirone gave me super vivid nightmares, and brain zaps when I first started which was pretty unpleasant. My dose got upped to 20mg which made me so exhausted I literally couldn't function. My limbs felt 4x heavier than usual, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I remember one of the first days I was on 20mg I was in the city for an appointment and walking around hoping the side effects would pass enough for me to safely make it home. I got a ton of dirty looks because I looked like I was stumbling around drunk, at 1pm. My dose got reduced back to 10mg which was fine, felt like it was only reducing my anxiety a little but it was bearable enough and I didn't have any side effects anymore. Started getting hives so I had to stop taking it, my anxiety didn't go up when I stopped so I think it was just placebo at that point and now I'm not on anything. I'm not remotely anti medication but my experience up until this point has been so bad that I really just don't want to risk completely destroying my mental health and potentially losing my life to "giving it another shot".

Anyway the tiredness from buspirone fucked with my eyesight so I got my eyes tested and spent like €250 on glasses literally a week before I stopped taking it. I can't see shit with them on and I can see perfectly fine without them now. 0/10.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Paradigm Shifts

Been playing Shop Titans, for the nostalgia. To date myself terribly: I played its predecessor, Swords & Potions, back on Kongregate, when Flash was a thing.

One of the things that ails the Live Service Free-to-Play model is the way you segment your community with each new feature. If you've got a game like Cookie Clicker, it doesn't matter where each player is in the unfolding nightmare realm you've devised, relative to each other, because it's a solo game experience. But in a game where you're a guild and one of your main cash sinks is into city-wide improvements that benefit the guild, you start to get into actual-capitalism gross behavior like thinking someone shouldn't be part of your group because they aren't productive enough. (As opposed to the fantasy-capitalism where production is limitless - a core tenet of what makes the game fun).

The paradigm shifts, as I see them:

You can level up a craft with an individual item, improving production or reducing cost or increasing cash value.

You can unlock new items by making enough of your highest-level item in a category (unlock tier-2 boots by making enough tier-1 boots).

You can send adventurers on quests to get rare materials for your crafts. Over time you can hire more and more adventurers.

Separate from adventurers you have champions. These are like adventurers but have little written plotlines. They're gained very slowly for free players, by finding enough coins (To get Sia to join, you need 50 Sia Coins).

As you level you unlock access to more workers, increasing your number of categories (the priestess lets you make amulets, the wizard lets you make scrolls, etc). A few categories are based purely on advancement in others (I think access to Spears happens after you craft enough Staves).

Once you get to the end of an item's improvements because you've crafted it a ton, it's Mastered, and you can put it in a magic book for posterity. Mastering crafts advances you on a track that has its own rewards.

Leveling up your adventurers and champions by sending them into dungeons lets them take on bigger threats, improving your efficiency when sending them out (you can send them for larger numbers of the lower-level rare drops or get your hands on the precious higher-level drops).

The dungeons themselves are also leveling up, basically as a representation of how far you've gotten in them. After a certain level you have access to a Boss, which can drop Keys. These are the only way to get certain item blueprints.

Eventually you get Essences you can craft. I assume these are for powerful elemental items, but I dunno what they do.

Eventually you get the Fusion Pot. I've gotten this and I still don't have a clear idea what it's for.

Early on, you get access to Discount and Surcharge and Small Talk options with customers. Discounts let you gain renown by halving the cost of the item you're selling and Surcharges let you expend renown to double the cost of an item. Small Talk just gives you a chance to gain some renown for free but I usually forget to hit the button. This wouldn't be a paradigm shift except it recontextualizes the whole mechanic of prettying up your shop. You start gaining renown as customers walking around your shop stop by the potted plant and go, "Nice!" So you functionally gain the ability to double the value of some of your biggest sales, just by decorating.

There's a Market with players buying and selling stuff. I haven't touched it but I recall it being really useful in Swords & Potions so that's probably a mistake on my part.

A lot of this stuff happens really early. Essences, Fusion, and the Collection Book for Mastery are the only ones I think of as real paradigm shifts past level 10, and level 10 is, like, within the first few hours of play. That's practically instantaneous for a semi-idle game.

These are two conflicting ideas: The sort of unfolding lotus, the slow burn, having some new idea to continue to tickle the brain as the player finishes familiarizing themself with the last, versus the standard onboarding process for a game, where you explain the vast majority of how things will be played right up front so that the player very quickly feels they know how to play. Both ideas have their benefits, and while they're pretty much mutually exclusive it's entirely possible to run on a slider between the two. Shop Titans' strength is mostly in the way its ideas integrate; the adventurers gathering the materials necessary for the new weapons and potions you've unlocked blueprints for, the city of the guild improving the stats of every shopkeep therein, and so on.

[the-firebird69]

Freya Ridings - Weekends (Official Video)

He says it's one of two things they're trapped there and they can't make any noise they can't send signals the mass is only a hundred miles and it is man-made and the bugs are so big they could bite through it and smaller ones too some of the bugs are 100 miles long and it hurt him and he also said they may have left and they may have been petrified due to cohabitation with some sort of mutation and it's in the movie Harrison Ford made and there are many ships that escaped and it makes more sense and the escape up through a storm now I have a few questions how does he know this and he looks at it and sees it how does he know about the transplants it's because he knows who worked on it it's the son of mendler and what exactly happens he doesn't really know and I think I know my husband went up there and he says that there was an earlier batch no but they made a whole bunch and put them somewhere and somebody took them and he thinks it was Trump and Tommy f and I did find that was true and the max are having them to cross things so I got them to talk about it and they said that some of them were our people and they went there and they would be fine but they are mutated into aliens instead of predators it which means they're combined which is what everybody wants so I've been saying that a little and they don't get it now this guy is saying and it kind of helped us but it didn't we have to find where they brought them. And yeah just send them and they brought them up to Tommy f hole and a hole so it's kind of like this there's a huge problem and he figures out people steal them from him and they were and the bugs are not activated cuz they're deeper now they're activated some people saw them and he figured out they're probably taking them away then a bug expert said they took them away but the question is and everyone's mind how they just do that without getting hit and if you evidence everywhere and the answer is they can disable them with that stupid noise and he didn't prepare for it shield against it or give them weapons to hit these idiots and shielding would have worked it would take them out like a bug zapper it'll be effortless and that might explain the watchmen movie somehow he survives in other words he gets asked his brain is intact and people do that on purpose to question and he tries he's trying to escape to his own ships but there's something definitely wrong here as if he had them fly off with them on purpose and this is what people are looking at and I do believe his intelligent and this guy next door is a loser they may have had a great plan but it's going to be over. And I would have heard us so I like him for that and he has a wife and he's loyal to her and says that she screws around with him and Amanda looked like me and she did but smaller he's a lot smaller it's kind of funny cuz that's what he does that's what she does he says since it's not me I'm a lot smaller no so that's a good time and beats on him and it's really she got forced to by Stan she kicked Lily and they're trying to get us in the both hospital at the same time and not even necessarily my actual wife he says and it's a long story that came after but it gets a little weird with the Max and higher than hell on drugs and it's like several Titans floating around Titanic boats and yeah he doesn't appreciated it's always the first one out with the trespasser and he has to defeat these things and the bugs ate his clan and that's disgusting and hers gross energize too so it's very gross the Giants as well so it's very gross and this guy's going to pay next door we have tons of troops looking and grabbing these idiots this is it can't be that many holes that they're big nearby and that's true too and we have results

Freya Ridings

You find a bunch of them and they were not functioning and the bugs knocked them out like they thought they would and we found them there re-arming them and boy were they surprised it's all over for Trump and yeah these bugs are nuts and what happens we think is they go in there to the bunkers where the robots were and they sit on them so they can't get to them who the hell knows why that's some weird stuff no they want to eat the people and Trump says he doesn't care and the robot suck they can't beat these stupid little bugs and they just make that dumb sound and the robots fail no they couldn't do it so it's all over with those things and just supposedly bugs that are going to attack from Mars for some reason and he says you go up there to investigate in the bugs come out and to eat people but the mask is now in jeopardy and we now understand it and what a fiasco I got to tell you something it's it's Trump and he's a f****** and we don't think that he did that on purpose

Mac daddy

No he did not

Dave

Yeah you mother f****** die and stuff no you keep making mistakes like that and these bugs are at them I'll tell you what people saw these things and they found them we heard it on the radio earlier I keep saying it didn't and I keep being mean and he says you said it already so we can take care of you and now I understand something we don't have a hold of prayer with this s*** it's too much it says if you back off me you might actually see what's going on you're such a jackass I don't think you're going to survive cuz I don't want you near me and you just insist on it like some sort of f***** up homo. You're going to be dead in a few minutes from what you're saying now and who gives a s*** about your opinion dead boy some idiot who thinks she's going to be president have to go into trial for treason and conspiracy to take over the country and kill everybody involved in 9/11 I mean who the f*** needs you you're such a piece of s*** you're not a rebel and you're not taking over from a rebel Force you start a fight with other rebels and you're a loser

[procrastinatorproject]

I was terrified for years that if I ever stopped keeping an extremely tight grip on myself and berating myself constantly for Not Doing Enough, I would just... stop. I would lie in bed or on my couch all day, scroll tumblr (if that), binge tv shows, and let my flat turn into a complete dumpster. The only thing that was keeping me even marginally productive was the constant self-flagellation and self-loathing.

As proof, I usually took that even with all that constant pressure and self-punishment, I still spent a ton of time Not Being Productive, but just lying in bed and bingeing tv shows or scrolling tumblr. Clearly, if I ever let up, even the tiny bits of productivity would disappear.

And then I reached this summer term break, the first time in well over a decade when I didn't have any "should be"s hanging over my head. No "I should be studying for an exam", no "I should be writing a term paper", no "I should be doing my job" (my contract ended in April), no "I should be making progress on this Major Life Decision". Just... eight weeks of nothing.

And I very intentionally banned myself from doing anything for university for the entirety of September. No "I should use this time to prepare the classes for next term" or "I should revise all my notes from last year", none of it. Just free time to do with as I see fit. As long as there is some kind of food in the flat and I am wearing marginally clean clothes, I'm good.

It didn't even take three days before I had created two new tumblr blogs revived five old hobbies, written about 10k in new stories, and tidied my bedroom to a higher standard than it had seen in a very long time.

And you know when I started binge-watching tv shows and being unable to get out of bed again? When it became abundantly clear that getting a new kitchen, the one real project I had planned for my eight weeks off, was going to take some hard decisions and lengthy preparation, and my old "you should be working on this"-mechanisms kicked in again.

It wasn't the things that needed to be done that triggered the procrastination and avoidance, it was the relentless self-punishment in response to a completely understandable nervousness about having to make difficult decisions.

And the thing that actually got me to move wasn't berating and blaming myself for being "lazy" or punishing myself some other way. It was being kind to myself and going: "yup, instead of ordering that fridge, a thing that Scares You To Your Core, you spent the entire day writing 14k words worth of daydreaming. I see how that happened. You clearly needed that, so well done for channeling the anxiety into something that gave you joy. Now, let's call a friend to talk this through and make a plan for tomorrow so you have support while you give this fridge-thing another go."

(Also: "yup, you had planned to do and write and blog SO MANY THINGS, but the kitchen anxiety has made it incredibly hard to spend your time with anything other than binge-watching. i'm sorry your brain is going through such a rough patch, it's very understandable you couldn't follow through on all the things you'd hoped. But you did some of them! And you can always come back to it. It's okay!")

Is this a magical cure? Of course not! My executive function is still all over the place. Even in those weeks where I got A Lot done, I still didn't manage to cook as often as I'd liked or start to go swimming again, and there were things I thoroughly avoided.

But what this experience has demonstrated to me very clearly is that OP is right: you can't punish, berate, and hate yourself into not being disabled. It Does. Not. Work. No, not even for you.

It might work temporarily, but it'll do much more harm than good, especially in the long run.

I was terrified of letting go. Really utterly existentially terrified. I won't go into details, but trust me, it was bleak.

And a lot of that fear is still there, because I've built it over decades of being undiagnosed and unmedicated and convinced I was a moral failure because I didn't understand my disability.

But it really is okay to let go.

Our lives will not disintegrate. We will not suddenly become a blob of inertia that will never ever move again.

We might crash for a while because we'll need to heal from years and years and years of abuse.

But in the end, we all, yes, even you, will find that we want to move again.

Not out of fear of punishment and rejection, but because we want to.

And it's okay if you're not there yet.

I wasn't for a really long time, and I've been incredibly lucky because I finally have medication that mostly works and an amazing therapist.

But you, too, can get there.

You, too, are allowed to let go.

It'll be okay!

And we'll be here, cheering you on!

the thing about having horrible executive function issues is that sometimes you don't do something that should have been done and that has consequences that are unpleasant for you. and sometimes you feel horrible about it and berate and beat yourself up for it and drill into your head over and over that the terrible thing that's happened to you is all your fault. and then the next time a similar situation comes up, you remember how you felt the last time, and mostly out of fear of how bad you'll feel if you don't do the thing again, you do the thing. and then, this is where it gets dangerous, you'll start to believe that this is an effective method of managing your executive function issues. you'll see that berating yourself scared you into making yourself do the thing once and you'll, without even knowing, go...oh. if I'm horrible to myself, it'll motivate me.

and then you'll learn to do this. over and over and over. and if this becomes your strategy, it becomes very hard to stop doing, because you can develop this belief that your own self directed cruelty is what keeps you in line. I can't forgive myself when I fuck up, because then I'll fuck up all of the time.

Let me absolve you all of this problem right now: it. Doesn't. Work. It works once. Twice, maybe. But it doesn't keep working. Self-directed cruelty and punishment is not an effective form of modifying your own behavior. It might work once or twice but like all punishment based techniques it will quit working very fast and then all you'll be left with is pointless, ineffective self-inflicted cruelty and misery and the misguided belief that you're not allowed to stop.

Stop.

Let it go.

Berating yourself is not "the thing keeping you in line."

You are a good person.

You do not need the threat of punishment to want to do the right thing.

And if just wanting to do the right thing isn't enough to make you brush your teeth or do your homework or whatever, it's not because you don't care. It's because you have a disability.

And being horrible to yourself because you have a disability is bad, and perhaps more importantly, ineffective. You cannot shame and torture the disability out of yourself. It's not "keeping you in line." It's not doing anything other than making you miserable.

You can let go.

You can be gentle with yourself.

Nothing bad will happen. You will not suddenly become worse at keeping up. You will not lose your focus and progress.

Be kind to yourself.

I love you.

[fictionadventurer]

Wait! I’m intensely interested in what you call the Gaskell approach to mental health!

Basically, it's an approach to mental health that starts with: don't sit inside reading all the time, go outside and get exercise and sunshine, and eat good, nutrient-dense food.

I'll never forget the day that I was sitting through a training course about mental health that gave statistics showing that America had better rates of recovery from mental illness in the 1850s than we do today. The 1850s. You know, before widespread psychiatric care and medications were available. I'm not saying that these advances haven't done good things, and clearly the historical approach to treating mental illness had, to put it mildly, some major flaws, but if they were having better recovery rates in the 1850s than we do today, it suggests they were doing something right.

The training went into a few of the details that might have contributed to this--and it has been a few years since I saw this training course, so I'm probably going to get the details wrong, but here's what I can piece together (with a bit of help from Gaskell). Doctors would prescribe things like taking walks or going out into the sunshine or changing diet--and these would be written out with instructions that should be followed like any other prescription, giving guidance that was more specific than "You should get more exercise." And there was a general idea that mental health problems were temporary. You'd have a bout of depression or some kind of nervous breakdown, the doctor would provide treatment, and you would get through it and return to health. And of course there were more severe and difficult and chronic cases, but judging by the fact that they had better recovery rates, people did get cured.

Reading Gaskell earlier this year gave me a better idea as to why. In Wives and Daughters, we have Osbourne, whose temperament tends to depression, which gets worse when he suffers several severe setbacks. He isolates himself, staying inside and trying to write poetry. His family urges him to go outside, get out of his own head, and stop reading so many books--not with an anti-intellectual bent, mind you, because Roger is even more of an intellectual, but with the understanding that it's not healthy to sit inside and wallow in thoughts and emotions so much, and that good fresh air and sunshine and exercise could do a lot to help pull him out of his funk. And though Osbourne never quite listens to his family's advice, he does do better when he's doing something and going somewhere.

What rocked me even more (and made me label this the Gaskell approach to mental health) was reading Cousin Phillis. There's a scene where the narrator's boss suffers a severe illness requiring a lot of recovery time. Phillis's family urges the narrator to bring his boss to their farm over the weekend, because they're certain that the fresh country air and sunshine will do him loads of good. The mother even says something along the lines of, "We'll give him milk from our best cow, and her milk is as good as cream." That floored me. From a modern perspective, it was insane to see something labeled as a health food because it's higher in fat. But it's such a common-sense approach to nutrition. Fat is a nutrient. Your body needs nutrients, especially when it's trying to recover from illness. Your brain needs fat to function. When a modern person would have been counting calories or calculating out exact percentages of every nutrient, the Victorians were going, "We'll give you as much good food as possible." To be clear, good food also included a lot of fresh vegetables and meat, so it's not like they were just shoving him full of fatty junk food, but the idea was that food was a good thing for health. It's so much more human to look at food, not as an enemy, but as a tool for healing.

When you think about our modern world, where people live more than ever in urban areas, sit inside reading screens all day (often as part of their job), and those screens are telling them that they need to resist food, calculate food, war against food, is it any wonder that people aren't recovering from mental illness? We've had tons of advances in analyzing and treating mental illness, but reading Gaskell makes me think that people of the past already had a pretty good idea of how to promote mental health.

[moorishflower]

hi, sorry for crashing in here every once in a while, would you share some of your writing process with us? I don't know how you manage to consistently put out god tier writing so regularly and would like to know if it's not too much trouble?

my dear my darling you can crash through these walls whenever you want just absolutely rip through 'em <3

So I always find it a little bit funny when the topic of writing process comes up because I really don't consider myself to have one, or rather, not a particularly VIABLE one

But the process goes kind of like this:

Have idea (idea is usually had while lying in bed trying to sleep, or while in the shower, or sometimes as the result of a prompt from my personal server or from an ask here)

Go to work the next day and absolutely SLAM KEYBOARD during my breaks. I have ADD and I am not medicated for it because I am largely well-functioning and I've previously had some uhhhh unfortunate side effects from Adderall, but one of the results of that is that I write fastest and best when I'm under pressure to do so. A manufactured time limit is the easiest way to trigger this, so I have a little bluetooth keyboard that I can connect to my phone, and in my spare time at work I write. I usually do like. 2,000 words this way? Sometimes more sometimes less.

It is important to note here that I used to do metadata entry for a living, a job which required me to have an insanely high wpm type speed, so at my fastest I was clocking somewhere around 89 to 92wpm with like a 75% accuracy. I am at this point probably typing 70-75wpm with a significantly higher accuracy (have not measured in a while, so this is a rough guess). What this means is that I type fast and hard and have broken keyboards, so I can and do fuckin SLAM words out, in very short periods of time.

When I get home, mostly what I want to do is write? It gives me a lot of joy to do so, and so at home I usually work on smaller projects, or answering prompts or asks. In between I play Pokemon or read or play with my cats (I got Pokemon Violet, and Shroodle is my one true love).

So kinda the unfortunate thing for me is that my writing and my reading brain are connected by some mysterious psychic link, so it's hard for me to switch back and forth between them. It means I don't have a lot of attention to give to other fic when I'm caught by an idea, which SUCKS ASS because everyone is writing a TON of really cool and good stuff. I suspect i will go through a hibernation phase at some point and catch up on like a year of fic in 1 month l o l

As for the quality of my writing I don't have a lot to say for that! I have a bachelor's in English and World Literature, which might contribute to just. Basic understanding of the flow of stories. But I mostly don't do editing, I've never taken classes on writing outside of what I took in college, and honestly I think any quality of my writing is more of a tribute to all the fantastic things I've read. I tend to absorb little bits and pieces of other writing styles as I go, so there are concepts and turns of phrase buried in my subconscious going back 20 years to when I first started reading fic. basically I turned imposter syndrome into my identity! (j/k j/k)

idk my friend judging the quality of my own writing is difficult, but if it resonates with other people, if it gives you feelings, if it makes you laugh or makes you horny or makes you think, that's all I can ever really ask. I have to try not to think about it much beyond that because i try to keep aware of my self esteem issues and hyperfixating on whether people "like" me is a problem, sometimes! though thankfully one I am often aware of, and can take steps to mitigate.

so like, the short answer to your question i guess is: have a cool job, regularly give yourself wrist damage, be feral about words. and write. just keep writing. the more you write, the easier it gets, the faster it gets, and the better the words feel!

[sugako]

tied with a bow

suna x f!reader cw: 18+ only minors dni, toys (vibrating panties), (secret) toy use in public/exhibitionism, established relationship, slight dubcon (reader doesn't know they're vibrating panties at first) then consent & enthusiasm, slightly jealous suna, edgeing, accidental ruined orgasm (receiving), public sex/in a bathroom, a handful of "good girl"s, unprotected wc: 2.5k a/n: for the #boys&toyscollab from @fallensvint (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ ty for letting me participate this is such a fun collab idea and i had a great time writing it

"I know tonight isn't ideal, but maybe this will help make up for it."

You turn from your place in front of the bathroom mirror, eyebrows lacing in confusion until you look down at the small bag in his hands. It's a pretty shade of red, complete with matching tissue paper that's been carefully tucked around something inside.

"Rintarou, we already-"

"I know, but I felt like you deserved something more." He cut you off, a small smile curling up the corner of his mouth. You could tell from the held-back expression he was dying to laugh.

Considering it was your anniversary, it was fairly suspect. Suna had a crude sense of humor at the worst of times but had gifted you some practical items and a pretty, delicate necklace with a little black gem held in its grasp. Instead of a nice dinner as you had both originally planned, you were being whisked away to an EJP team event.

When he had been told he was contractually obligated you could feel the disappointment wavering off his body for hours. Though you tried to assure him that you truly didn't mind a free dinner and dressing up - although it came at the price of a little press - he still seemed upset until the day before.

Hesitantly, you reached out for the bag. While he noticed your careful reaction, he didn't make any move to comment, simply letting you find out on your own. The gift was easy enough to spot when you riffled through the paper.

"Lingerie?" You questioned, slowly pulling the black lace from the red package. Shoulders relaxing, you felt some comfort realizing it wasn't something to be worried about. At least, not that you knew yet. "It's pretty." You sighed, unfurling the material.

"Thought you would like it. Wear it tonight?" He asks softly. Smiling kindly, you wrap your arms around his thick shoulders and lean to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, I think it'll be fine with the dress I have picked out, but why…" a big detail catches your eye and you do a double-take back to your hands, "...why are there ties?"

"Oh," he shrugs, feigning innocence, "I think they wanted to be inclusive, just came in one size. No idea."

The next hour moves quickly between the two of you washing up and getting dressed for the night. Although his closet is impressive, Suna can be particular about his outfit selection. He tells you he wants to look good and professional, it's good for his career, but you think he just likes to dress up nicely at any given chance when he's not in the gym.

As time draws near, you're both nearing the door, smoothing any creases and straightening what needs to be. Though, a moment before you can wrap your hand around the door handle, he's grabbing your arm and pulling you back to his chest.

"Did we forget-?"

"No." He cuts you off gruffly, hiking your dress up with the hand not holding you.

"Rintarou, we don't have time!" You squeak out, fumbling to move his hands away.

"We're not doing anything." He mumbles while reaching back to grab something from his jacket pocket. "Just this," he says as slips the little bullet past the band of your panties, neatly placing it in the little pocket you hadn't noticed until now.

"Ri-rint-!"

"I'm surprised you didn't know what these were to begin with." He chuckles, letting you go and pulling out his phone. "I won't turn it on if you don't want me to, you just mentioned wanting to try-"

"Yes." You answer quickly. A little embarrassed with your own fervor your shift, straightening out your dress although it didn't need it. "I mean, uh, yes, as long as no one can hear it. Could be kinda fun."

His lips curl into a tight smile and he taps a few buttons on his phone, eyes shifting between you and the screen. It starts up quick and fast, pressed well enough against your clit to make you clamp your legs together.

"Rin!" You squeak, grabbing his arm to keep your knees from buckling.

"Whoops," he smirks rather unconvincingly, "Hmm, well it is quiet."

The panties are ruined before you even step out of the car to the event. Suna's hand comes down on the small of your back, holding you close before the crowd can sweep you away. Anticipation swelling in your chest you watch him as he pulls out his phone and flips through the apps.

"Ready?" He leans in to ask, voice barely raised above the gentle roar of the crowd.

"Yeah," you force yourself to take a deep breath and let your shoulders relax. "I'll let you know if I really need to stop for whatever reason." You quickly add, already knowing his next question.

"Good girl." He smiles, giving you back a little squeeze before he taps the screen. The vibe comes to life again, the soaked fabric making it even easier for you to feel it. You take a sharp, wavering inhale through your nose.

It's not as strong this time, but between how good Suna looks tonight, the longing touches you've been sharing since you left the house, and the fact that you're surrounded by people at a professional function, it felt just as dizzying. He would tease you endlessly for how you were reacting no matter what, you already knew, but that only added to the appeal.

The night went on smoothly for the most part. Suna came and went from your side when needed - whether to speak to the press, his captain, or grab drinks and food for the two of you. Though your voice didn't sputter and your body didn't tremble as much as you were briefly worried it would, there was still a certain amount of excited trepidation with every step you took and word you spoke.

While you longed for release and the ache drew up between your legs, you could feel that the two of you were close to the end. Suna had stepped away for just a moment leaving you beside Komori while he asked higher-ups if he was good to leave now. He wasn’t an exceptionally jealous or insecure person, and it was an innocent touch, really. But when he watched as you grazed his teammate's arm with the knowledge that you were ruining yourself, it ticked some feral part of his brain.

Stopping in his path toward you, Suna rips the phone from his pocket and clicks open the app once again for the night. The warning at the bottom of the screen telling him the battery was getting low didn’t even reach his eyes before he clicks the settings up to their highest level.

In the midst of giggling over the odd relationship between Komori’s cousin and one of Suna’s old teammates, both of whom you had met less than a handful of times, you felt the wind get knocked out of you. As you pretend to choke on your drink, you scan the room in a panic looking for him. Before you can spot him, a strong hand pressed into your back, forcing you to stand up straight.

“Oh, hi!” Komori gives Suna a wave and a small grin, clueless to your flustered expression. “We were just talking about Atsum-”

“Sorry,” he really is, “Promised we would head out early.”

“No worries.” He chirps back. “Nice seeing you.” It’s directed at you, but you’re lost. The pulsing between your legs is near unbearable, you’re wound up so tight it’s a wonder you haven’t burst over the edge yet. It’s all you can do to muster out a polite hum and nod to him. Your legs are shaking now, you have to take deep breaths to steady yourself, faking little coughs when moans bubble up in your chest. Suna is saying something else to him, but you can’t quite hear, the pressure in your ears too loud.

Then, without warning, it stops. Fingers digging into the sleeve of Suna’s jacket to get his attention, you give him a sharp tug. When you look, you realize he doesn’t have his phone out and he looks about as confused as you. Realization hits his face like a ton of bricks.

“Not feeling well?” He huffs out at you, less of a question and more of a statement really. You quickly shake your head and offer an apologetic look to Komori. “Sorry, we really do have to go now.”

He barely gets out another polite goodbye before Suna is dragging you out of the venue. You make it to the desolate lobby and are dragged into an empty-looking bathroom before you can even say anything.

“Why did-”

“It died, I didn’t do anything.” He quips, locking the door behind him. “I’m sorry baby, I really didn’t mean to.” Dragging you back to him he traces gentle kisses down your shoulders, already hiking up your dress with a hand that’s traveled to your ass.

“Please, need you, Rin.” Your eyes sparkle at him, pulling his face back up to yours so you can kiss him properly. At first, it’s sweet, tame almost, but your dire need and the fact that your cunt is still throbbing on the edge pushes you to deepen it. Tongue lashing across his, fighting for nothing in particular, everything about your motions and groping hands becomes sloppy and irregular.

“Right now? Here?” He teases out, cradling your cheeks.

“Yes, here. Now.” You demand with your hands already tugging on his well-made belt, struggling with the buckle. Through the silky material of his pants, you can feel how swollen and hard he already is. “Don’t need anything else, just you inside of me.” You continue, half-distracted from tearing his clothes away when his thumb swipes over your bottom lip and presses into your mouth. Without a second thought, you suck it in, lavishing your tongue over his fingertip as you would his cock. All it does is make you needier while your hands tremble around his length, finally pulling him out.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He groans when you swipe over the tip. Steadying your quivering body with two hands tightly drawn over your hips, he flips you around so you’re against the wide sink counter facing yourself.

While you settle your chest against it and spread your legs, he’s making quick work of the ties holding up your panties. “You really did make an absolute mess of these.” He whistles lowly, admiring the spread of creamy slick that’s painted between your thighs. The panties are tossed beside your face, your own smell momentarily taking your focus away from him until you feel the gentle prod of his cock against you.

“Just put it in, I can take it.” You beg, wiggling your hips back for emphasis.

“Bet you can.” He agrees as he pushes in the rest of the way with one fluid motion. A cracked moan breaks from you, and you realize as he fills you out that the cord in you is snapping. His hips barely drag out, shallowly pumping into you.

“Cu-cumming.” You stutter out, hips twitching under his hold. Being on the edge for so long pushed you into such sensitivity, even he’s a little surprised when you start to flutter around him. He keeps up his shallow pumps, wary of pushing you too far when he knows you’ve been teetering at the edge for so long, gently fucking your through until you slump against the counter. “Please…” you weakly call out, still aware of the pleasant draw of his cock that’s nudged deep inside of you.

Not bothering to answer, he offers you a small smile in the mirror, and pistons his hips out at a ferocious speed. The slap of skin and the all-too-loud squelching is making you dizzy, but you can tell by the precious look on his face that you’re not the only one. Suna’s eyes are connected to where he’s getting sucked into your gushing pussy that’s already left a creamy ring at the base of his cock. All he can think about is that you’re wet, so wet, and you’ve been waiting for this all day, waiting for him. Driven out of his own mind by the nearby sensation of you clamping down around him, whining and shaking in his arms, he already feels close.

When he pulls his eyes away from where he’s fucking you, he lands on your face in the mirror. This isn’t perfect, it’s really not. It’s no romantic anniversary night with flower petals and candles, it’s fucking in the bathroom outside a work event. And although he knows you don’t need anything fancy as you always tell him, he feels a twisted pang of guilt and excitement.

Anyone could walk by and hear your unobstructed, pitched moans, his deep whimpers, or the flesh hitting flesh over and over again. At best, this could be a difficult press scandal, but he can’t bring himself to really care, not when you’re begging for him - his cock, his orgasm, he cum to fill you up. His attention is only on you, forcing his hips to thump harder against your backside, balls slapping against your poor, tired cunt that just keeps leaking around him.

You can feel how close he was to his own end, pressure building up in him, cock twitching against you while his resolve falters and his hips stutter against you. The spout of words you had been blabbering on to encourage him got lost as he slams into you with some finality, the warm spray of his cum filling you up from the inside.

Taking a heavy breath he lets himself fall over your back, long torso laying heavy against you. Neither of you attempts to speak, panting and whimpering just above a whisper. After a heavy minute, Suna turns his head to rest against your cheek, giving you a pleased hum.

“Maybe next time I should just keep the battery low.”

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

WINTER WARMTH

__________________

Hi, everyone!! This is a part of the Citrus Dome Snowed In collab! I’m so thankful to be a part of this round and super grateful for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten and @tomurasprincess for letting me be on the masterlist! I’m so excited, but I’m not super proud of this one, so please feel free to give feedback.

Masterlist Here!

Go see everyone’s super awesome fics and art pieces they worked so hard on!!

ART BY @brttpaige on Twitter🖤 Go check out her artwork, she’s fantastic!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

The local news station hailed it as “the storm of the century,” and they weren’t wrong. You’ve watched the snow pile up beyond the window, building from a light dusting on the grass to literal knee-high drifts. And it shows no sign of stopping.

The place you’re stranded is stocked up on groceries, you’d charged every electronic device to your name, and you’d cranked the thermostat as high as it would go until the inevitable happens —

The power goes out.

So now you’re stuck indoors, with only a certain someone for company. The same someone you’ve been pining after for ages. Snow stacks up higher and higher outside. As the cold seeps in, and you both drift closer, you realize this was somehow the one thing you hadn’t thought to prepare for…

The snow outside was pretty at first, but now with the doors and windows to your small cottage-type home half covered, it seemed almost oppressive. With the power outage, there was no television to drown out the quiet, only deafening silence and the movement of your new roommate, Sero Hanta.

It didn’t start this way, you hadn’t always obsessively paid attention to his mannerisms. At one point in time, he was just a hero working for the same agency you provided medical care for. You were just support staff, until a dumb villain thought you were “important” and kidnapped you, leaving the heroes you saw as coworkers to rescue you. After that, the agency wanted you to live in the adjacent apartments, but you refused. Magically, two days later, Sero Hanta approached you asking about your spare room under the guise of his lease running out. You thought it seemed a bit suspicious, particularly that this gorgeous man had “nowhere else to go”, meaning no significant other to take him in. Of course, you agreed, being a nice person and maybe bit naïve. He moved his stuff in, didn’t make much of a fuss, and mostly left you to your own devices. That is, until you noticed some... abnormalities. The lingering glances, the newly installed security cameras, the not-so-subtle ideas to spend time with you of having meals together or watching movies, making sure you’d eaten or slept... He cared too much. He was so perfect- gorgeous, tall, easygoing, had similar goals as a rescue hero, funny, and he cared. He cared for you, which made living with him so much harder. You found yourself enjoying nights with him, wanting to sit a little closer, wanting to impress him with new dishes to make for dinner, ditching your ex’s sweatpants for cute sleep shorts, relishing in fantasies of his protective nature and dominating stature with your hand between your thighs... You thought you were going to choke when he started walking around in only gray sweats or a towel after his shower. You tried your best to keep eye contact, not stick around too long, not encroach upon his comfort in his own house. You failed to notice the smirk on his face when you quickly excused yourself or when you turned away too fast after being caught staring.

Sero had originally taken this as an assignment, although he did have a bit of a crush on you from the times you’d patched him up after rough shifts. He thought of himself as your own personal hero, but that mindset soon turned into more than just an assignment. He was protective over you, and he found himself getting defensive if you even mentioned another guy. He had tried flirting within reason, just making dinners and watching movies, but he got cocky when he had walked past your door one night and heard your little whimpers. He decided to test his theory, wearing his sweats lower than he normally would and walking back to his room in a towel, and delighting in strolling past your room to hear your muffled moans and the vibrations of the toy you never used to use. You were getting desperate, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t boost his ego to hear his name through the walls. This, however, was NOT something he’d planned on.

Everything was fine, being stuck in the house together was nice, until the power went out. The heat somewhat remained in the house until night, when you curled up on the couch under every blanket you had and he layered on an extra hoodie and lounged next to you. He looked cold...

“H-Hey... Sero? Um... You look cold. Do you want a blanket?”

“Hmmm, but then wouldn’t you be cold too?” He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well... Maybe... But that’s okay! You need to be warm too!!” God, you’re so sweet.

“I mean... You could always come over here, we can be warm together!” He stretches out his arm and beckons you over, inviting you to curl up next to him. You shift over, spreading the blankets over your roommate and hiding your blushing face under the pile of softness, keeping at least 3 inches of space between you before he rests his arm behind your head.

“Thanks, y/n, this is uh... nice!” He hides his disappointment at your perceived rejection, going back to look at his phone.

After 20 minutes of scrolling, you can’t take it anymore. He smells so good, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I’M GONNA GO TO BED NOW. Uh, goodnight!” You basically shouted, too loud to be natural. You abruptly stood up before slightly shrinking from the frigid air. When did it get so cold in here?

“Hey, it’s really cold... We don’t really have a ton of blankets, and I’m worried you’re going to freeze, so maybe we could sleep in my room tonight? Just for, ya know... body heat?” He sounds nervous, like he expects you to freak out and reject him completely.

“Well... I-I guess that’s smart... You’re right. So... Let’s go?” Holy fuck, you are so nervous. You were originally escaping to your room like you normally do, too horny to continue hanging out with Sero and retain your sanity, but now you’re sleeping with him?! What the fuck are you thinking?!

He gathered the blankets and lead you into his room, holding the door for you before plopping down your nest of fabric. You stand awkwardly in the center of the room, waiting for something you have no idea what. Sero unceremoniously strips himself of his hoodies and sweats and climbs into bed, seemingly out of habit, before turning his attention to you and holding the blankets open.

“Are you coming?” He smirks, putting on a confused voice that doesn’t quite match the mischief in his eyes.

“I-...” FUCK, he’s beautiful. Lean muscles flexing with every movement, shaggy hair falling over his face, and holy... The tight black boxers are NOT helping the whole “too turned on to function” situation.

“Oh... Sorry, I read somewhere that skin-to-skin contact is better for warmth. You’d probably know better than me, I guess.” He grins, as though this entire thing is nonchalant and completely normal. “I can help you if you’d like~”

“Uh nope, yeah, you’re right!! I’ll uh just... Can you close your eyes?” You are panicking. Every insecurity you’ve ever had is coming to bite you in the ass. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how much space your body takes up, remembering everything those stupid bitches in high school said about you.

“Y/n, you’ve seen me in that skin tight hero suit and you’ve patched up most of my body. It’s totally fine! PLUS, you’re sleeping in my bed, am I gonna have to close my eyes the whole night??” He jokes, not knowing that your shyness isn’t rooted in principle, but fear. Upon seeing your face, his smile falters and he autocorrects, “You know, I think you’re beautiful, but if you want me to turn around, I promise I will.”

“No, it’s-it’s fine. It’s okay. Wait- did you just call me beautiful?” You try to cover your shocked expression as you take off your sweater and slide off your fuzzy pajama pants. Sero is thankful your head is stuck in your sweater as his jaw practically drops. Oh fuck, he’s screwed. His eyes follow your curves from your chest, down your sides, to the pouch of your tummy and the plump fullness of your thighs... If he thought he was having trouble focusing before, there’s no way there’s gonna be enough blood in his brain when you’re half naked next to him... Speaking of... Shit, he’s hard... Okay, it’s fine, just tuck it in your waistband like you did back in school...

You climb into bed as quickly as you can, still keeping a few inches between you and Sero until he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You squeak in surprise and he chuckles, “You can’t be warm unless you’re over here! C’mere.” He nestles his face into your hair and splays a hand across the curve of your lower back. Feeling very naked and very nervous, you shift in his hold and snuggle closer to the heat he gives off, but halt your motions when you feel him twitch against your thigh. Neither of you are breathing, praying the other didn’t notice the rock hard length pressed between your bodies. Somehow, in the time you spent essentially playing dead, you both fell asleep cuddled together.

Over the course of the night, you had shifted to straddle your leg over his torso and he had turned on his back with his hand resting on the space between your thigh and your butt. Sero was the first to stir from his slumber when he felt you move against him, a small whine escaping your parted lips as your hips rolled against his. Oh... OH... Is y/n-? oh fuck y/n is dreaming... and grinding on me... fuck, this shouldn’t feel so good... He tries his hardest to go back to sleep, but the feeling of your sleeping body brushing up against his cock keeps him wide awake. He was trying to stay perfectly still until he heard your tiny whisper “Hanta~”... His hips involuntarily thrust, drawing out the most sinful moan from your throat as the head of his dick added friction on your clit that woke you up. You start to move away, embarrassed and hoping to check that he’s still asleep, but Sero’s grip tightens around your thigh and presses you harder onto him.

“Good morning to you, too~... If you needed my help getting off, you could’ve just asked, babygirl~” The lust and sleep clouding his voiced, combined with the steady roll of his hips makes you whimper and tuck your face into his neck.

“Awww so shy~ You were moaning my name earlier. Why don’t we see how loud I can make you, princess?” He speaks lowly as he flips you onto your back, hovering over you.

“I- I... Please.” You breathe wrapping your legs around his waist and stare up at him, wiggling your hips and sliding your hands up his biceps.

“Can I- Can I kiss you? Are you sure you want this? I’ve had feelings for you since before I moved in and I just... I never want to hurt you.” Cupping your cheek and searching your face for any hesitation, Sero starts succumbing to his own insecurities. He never wants to hurt you, and he knows he isn’t the flashy hero some of his friends seem to be... He needs to hear you say it.

“Sero... Yes~. I want you, please kiss me... I feel the same way. Please~...” Upon hearing your confession, Sero slotted his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet, gentle. Breathing each other in felt so right, so natural, and you followed his lead when he slid his hold to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. His hand drifted down, following the curve of your breasts, tracing your sides and resting on the pouch of your tummy. Just as you were starting to feel self conscious, Sero groans and moves to kiss your neck, mumbling “You’re so beautiful, y/n. Fuck, so perfect. You feel so soft, I need you so bad~” The whimper he draws from you when he sucks a deep mark into the column of your throat is absolutely lewd, you can barely believe it came from you. He kisses his way down your body, leaving hickies along your skin and squeezing every inch he can get his hands on. You look down at him, his eyes dark with lust and admiration as he leaves opened mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, making you more needy than you thought possible. He strokes his thumb along your clothed slit and moans at your wetness.

“Fuck- you’re so wet for me, angel. I want to taste you, you’re so cute like this. Let’s take these off, yeah?” He looks to you and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, asking for permission and grinning like an idiot when you lift your hips to help him. Before you can say anything, he’s prying your legs open and diving in, moaning as he laps your slit and sucks your clit into his mouth. You run your fingers through his hair and grip him, pulling him into you and grinding against his face. His groans send vibrations straight to your core, pinning your hips with one arm and sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt.

“M-more!! Oh god, please Sero, just like that- I want more!” You moan so prettily for him, but he wants something more. He releases your clit with a pop and leans up, stilling his fingers inside you and wrapping his free hand around your neck. The pressure and dominance has you clenching around his fingers, and he takes notice.

“You either call me Hanta or Papi, nothing else. You understand? I want you to say my name when you cum.” He commands, and sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh you like that, huh?~ I can feel you squeezing my fingers. Why don’t you tell me what you want, baby?~”

Your brain goes hazy when he leans in and places little love bites on your neck and collarbones. “PAPI~! Yes, I love it! Please fuck me, I want to feel you, I need moreee~” You pant as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you unbearably empty.

“Oh baby, I’ll fill you up, don’t worry. But first, why don’t you suck my cock?~” He strips himself of his boxers and flips the two of you, pulling you on top of him. He’s so long, just thick enough to stretch you and reach every amazing spot inside of you. The sight of his hard length has you drooling, anticipating feeling the weight of him on your tongue. You give the head a few kitten licks, relishing in the way he groans and twitches in your hand. He laces his fingers at the base of your head and lets you set your own pace, wrapping your plush lips around him. Bobbing your head up and down, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his dick and swirling it around the head- you love seeing his reactions. The way his breathing increases and his hips buck when you hollow your cheeks. He looks so pretty like this, you can’t help but rub your thighs together for some kind of friction. Luckily, he notices how desperate you’ve gotten and pulls you up to straddle him with one hand still on your hair and the other gripping your hip, calloused fingers digging in and massaging the fat there.

“As much as I want to cum in that perfect little mouth, I think my baby needs to be filled, yeah?” He fists his cock and strokes the head through your wetness, gathering your slick and making you involuntarily grind against him. “Beg for my cock, babygirl~, tell Papi what you want.” The smirk on his face is utterly sinful, teasing you and enjoying the fucked out expression on your beautiful face.

“PLEASE I want your cock, I wanna be full, just fuck me already!!! Please stop teasing me Hantaaa~” Just as you grind your hips down onto him, he thrusts into you, cutting off your pleading with a needy moan. “Ah~ fuck- so full, so full, oh my god! Yes Papi~!”

“Oh shit angel, fuck- you feel so good.” Hanta grabs your hips and helps you slowly fuck yourself on him, “Just like that, baby, just like that. Ride my fucking cock. Fuck- you’re so tight...”

The dirty talk pouring out of Hanta’s mouth, combined with the stretch of his hot length stirring up your insides, you find yourself embarrassingly close to climax already. Your first orgasm hits you like a train, completely knocking the air out of your lungs and causing you to collapse onto Hanta’s chest. He seizes the opportunity to flip the two of you, holding you underneath him and fucking you into the mattress.

“Ah ah ahhhhh~ Hantaaa~ I can’t! I can’t, I just came, it’s too much!!! oh FUCK Papi!!!” You feel the tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation and pleasure.

“Yes you can, babygirl. You’re taking me so well, you’re such a good girl. I know you love it, I can feel your pussy flutter around me. So honest, angel. You’re so perfect like this- fuck.” Hanta grips the back of your thighs and pushes your knees to the bed, hitting even deeper within you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust and makes you scream out, nails digging into his back, and egging him on.

“Come on, mi amor, cum with me. I know you can, I can tell you’re so fucking close... Cum on my cock, that’s right. Cum for me.” His long fingers reach down and rub quick circles on your clit. He leans in to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and your shoulder, sending you over the edge into your climax. Your vision goes white and you clamp down around him, cunt spasming as you squirt all over his thighs and abs.

“F-fuck!!! That’s so fucking hot~ I’m gonna- Ah~” He fills you to the brim with his sticky release, the warmth spreading through your core and coating your walls. Hanta releases your legs and lays on top of you, sweaty bodies pressed together until he comes down from his high.

“That was so amazing, angel. You were so good for me. Such a pretty baby, all mine...” He pulls back to kiss your temple and rolls over, petting your hair and lightly scratching your back.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me... I always want to be yours.” You giggle, bubbly at his claim on you and still buzzing from your high. You curl up into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. “Mine.”

“Mmhmm, all yours.” He breathes a chuckle and places a kiss to your hairline. “I’m glad I can warm you up, lovebug.” He smiles as your breathing evens out, falling asleep with you in his arms.

[variousqueerthings]

Tom Hardy Movies rated least to most queer

I made a list of some Tom Hardy movies and I rated them based on my own, non-specific criteria about what makes a movie queer. Results below the cut.

(Some films not included, because I haven’t watched them yet, because Mr Hardy’s only in them for a few minutes, because the subject matter doesn’t lend itself to this list, or because I just don’t want’em here. TV series also not included. The list is organised into both groups and ratings, because I’m doing The Most.)

Movies are divided into four groups and rated from 0 – 10 on the Queer-Scale, scroll down to the bottom if you want the ratings without the commentary.

Disclaimer: This list is subjective. Don’t come at me because I didn’t rate Inception higher, Nolan himself is as queer as cargo shorts. 

1. This movie would make more sense if it were queer

If this movie were queer it… might not become a perfect film all of a sudden, but it’d make a hell of a lot more sense than what’s actually going on. With an occasional dose of “are the cis-straights okay?”

This Means War (2012): So Chris Pine and Tom Hardy are ostensibly both in love with Reese Witherspoon, but say “I love you” to each other pretty much constantly throughout the movie and their friendship is often presented as a domestic partnership. Cool, cool, cooool.

Queer Rating: 2 out of 10. This movie hate-crimed me by having Tom Hardy literally spell out his relationship with Chris Pine, only for the script to then have him say… “can you imagine all that… but with a woman…” Later on the movie explicitly denies polyamory is possible. Fuck this film.

The Dark Knight Rises (2012): Batman movies should always be queer. Mr. Hardy’s the only one who acceptably camps it up, despite Nolan’s best attempts to make him “acceptably gruff.” No matter what you do, Bane is a massive daddy in a mask and thanks to Mr Hardy’s honestly iconic fucking speech pattern in this film, it goes from pretty atrociously straight to just queer enough to imagine a future where Robert Pattinson plays batman and maybe adopts a bunch of kids.

(the only truly decent mask in this franchise tbh)

Queer Rating: 3 out of 10. Mr Hardy’s back is the one that’s actually broken carrying any semblance of fun in this overly long movie all on his own.

Lawless (2012): Wow, this really was the year of the not-queer-enough, wasn’t it? Look, it’s “based on a real story,” but it’s also a movie and movies don’t need to stick to the truth, and this one certainly doesn’t. Was the guy queer in real life? I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that it’s just kind of an eh movie and maybe being queer would add something to it. One of those “but why make someone queer? because it’s always more interesting to do so,” movies.

Queer Rating: 3 out of 10. It’s just not queer. But Tom Hardy wears cardigans and described his character as a “mother figure,” which adds an interesting dynamic to him.

2. Actually Queer but in a homophobic way

Tom Hardy plays a canonically queer character, yaaay. The whole movie contains a strange sense of the director being too not-queer to actually engage with that and everything around him is almost aggressively straight, noooo.

RocknRolla (2008): Honestly this movie has the funniest coming out scene ever + that familiar undertone of “all these manly men secretly want to fuck each other” is only heightened by one of them actually being gay and in love with his best friend. It’s such a fucking… it’s such a movie. Personally I find Mark Strong, Idris Elba, Thandie Newton, and, of course, Tom Hardy to be really hot in it, so that’s a plus. There’s a scene in which Strong’s character teaches another gangster how to do a proper backhand. It’s really gay of him. Also slow-dancing at a gay club. Butler’s character needs to get himself together, you really don’t think 2008 Tom Hardy is hot? Mate.

(left to right: functional queer, disaster queer, distinguished queer)

Queer Rating: 6 out of 10, for having an actual gay character who is played by Tom Hardy doing a sexy phonecall voice to another guy, but then there’s that feeling you can’t shake that the whole movie is vaguely uncomfortable about it, like a family member awkwardly patting you on the shoulder after they found out you were queer second-hand, but they’ve still got 50 years of bias to unlearn. Also Thandie Newton is killed, fuck that noise. 

Legend (2015): If I had a nickle for the amount of times Tom Hardy’s played a gay gangster, I’d have two nickles. Which isn’t a lot, but weird that it happened twice (looks at Peaky Blinders and thinks it ought to be three times). I’ve watched Legend three times and every time it just… loses me. And because this is a biased list, I’ll only specifically mention that it fails to make Ron’s queerness anything but a way for him to shock others. Gangsters could be gay? Gasp! On the upside Tom Hardy has so much sexual tension with everyone in this movie, including himself (why would you do that? Asks Ron, bemused. Because I can’t kill you, no matter how much I fucking want to, hisses a blood-soaked Reggie right into his ear. It’s hot).

Queer rating: 5 out of 10 because the film is just not very queer for a movie with several queer men in it.

3. Straight as a forced family dinner

It’s straight.

Locke (2013): He’s a married man who had an affair and trying to deal with the fallout of it. This isn’t a spoiler for most of the movie, it’s a pretty neat movie where we look at Tom Hardy having a bit of a mental breakdown and taking lots of phonecalls (my personal hell). Is it queer? Not in the slightest.

Queer Rating: 2 out of 10 for Hardy’s face being in almost every shot.

The Revenant (2015): Yeah, yeah, DeCaprio’s and Hardy’s characters are obsessed with each other, yeah it’s a man’s world where the only women are dead wife, kidnapped sexually assaulted native princess, or background whore, yeah, they fight each other and there’s a ton of grunting, but also… I just fucking don’t like this movie. The thin line where a storyline like this one becomes queer might be crossed for others, but not for me. Fuck these guys and their stupid  bear fights.

Queer rating: 3 out of 10 for it being about dirty men in the middle of nowhere (but you could just watch Brokeback Mountain or The Lighthouse or God’s Own Country or any Mad Max, or, or, or…)

4. Queer? Queer. Queer? … Queer…

The plots, aesthetics and/or characters played by Tom Hardy lend themselves to a queer reading, even if there is no overt intention towards queerness. Often this is because of a deliberate lack of heterosexual and/or cisgender writing, which in this day and age is still pretty uncommon not to include within a plot.

Inception (2010): Okay, I don’t even need to write about the added “darling,” or the “go to sleep Mr Eames.” I don’t need to go on about the absolutely bonkers amount of fanfiction written for Eames and Arthur, based on a few minutes of film and a boatload of chemistry. It’s queer.

Queer Rating: 7 out of 10, because the actual plot of the film isn’t very queer, but between the Arthur/Eames dynamic and Elliot Page, Nolan was really given a gift he didn’t deserve.

Warrior (2011): Okay, so first off, this might be my favourite Tom Hardy film, at least some part of my brain is fixated on it at almost all times and I’m considering watching it for the third time in two weeks. I don’t only consider it queer based on Mr. Hardy’s character, although he has no romantic or sexual interest and could be read as aroace, but because of the themes, especially those surrounding said character, who is coded as a caregiver to women and through close emotional connections to men. It’s got possibly unintentional deconstructions of masculinity and two men (brothers) who need to forgive each other and can only do so through the catharsis of violence. It speaks to me as a transmasc with several cis brothers, struggling with my own masculinity. It’s not at all written for me, but I find myself all over it. I could talk about this movie forever.

Queer Rating: 8 out of 10. I’m not allowed to say any more or I’ll never stop writing about it. I love you Tommy…

The Drop (2014): Bob’s lack of sexual and/or romantic interest in Naomi is so strange to her that she doesn’t know what he would want from her otherwise. Bob really just wants to raise a dog with her (and also forgiveness for past sins). Bob is such a rare ace and possibly aro coded character, it really throws me every time I watch this film how obvious it is. Bonus points for also being autistic-coded and not in the stereotypical ways.

(Tom Hardy’s most challenging role: pretending he doesn’t know dogs)

Queer Rating: 9 out of 10 because it’s so fucking rare to see ace and aro coded characters that aren’t, you know…. serial killers. Also Tom Hardy adopts a puppy and has a very cute, kinda lispy voice. How often does Tom Hardy play softer men like this?

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015): Very deliberately no sexual or romantic writing included in Max’s and Furiosa’s relationship. Sure, there’s not a lot of time for that in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, but it was also done with a purpose! “It was always going to be two warriors on par, starting off with very little respect for each other and ending up with a massive respect for each other.” - Charlize Theron. “So of course they meet, of course there’s a relationship, an unspoken understanding. A recognition.” - Tom Hardy.

Queer Rating: 9 out of 10. It’s not just the characters, but the world and it’s apocalyptic BDSM leather scene, the questions it asks about sustainability and about people as tools, and the found family. It’s about overcoming violence through multiple kinds of love. And it’s about watching a guy playing flame-thrower guitar. What could be queerer?

Venom (2018): Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same… No, but Eddie is queer. The only question is whether the sequel will acknowledge that aspect or not, but even if not. Even if it manages to straightly bypass the reality of a symbiotic relationship with a genderless? genderfluid? being from another world that is linked to you down to your very cells and understands you more intimately than any other person possibly could… even if all that: Eddie is queer. Venom and Eddie are in a relationship. Any relationship Eddie ever enters into will automatically become a thrupple. He makes out with Venom in the movie! Eddie is queer.

(aw yeah that tongue is going down his throat)

Queer Rating: 9.5 out of 10, because it’s still coded by the creators in the language of bromance (hey, bro, is it gay if we’re physically and emotionally closer than any other people on earth?), but the movie is so, so camp and Mr Hardy’s acting choices are beautiful – the screaming? The lispy soft voice and lack of taking up space? The lobster tank? The only people who don’t know how queer this is are the people making it apparently. Fingers crossed for that sequel!

Hon. mentions:

Star Trek: Nemesis (2002): Star Trek – even at it’s worst (especially at its worst?) – is camp af + Hardy is a straight-up baby in this film.

Bronson (2008): It’s about a real person who’s still alive, so I won’t comment on the actual man. However the film seems to code the character Bronson along an ace line and also has genderqueering Vaudeville. Someone let Tom Hardy do more of whatever was going on in those stage-bits.

(this right here: this the good shit)

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011): Another ensemble piece not massively about Hardy’s character, but it’s a movie that centers around queerness in a strange, depressing way. Tom Hardy’s character isn’t queer. Colin Firth and Mark Strong are though. The book makes me cry.

Peaky Blinders (2013-): Because it’s a TV series I left it out. There’s a lot of straight nonsense going on there, but Alfie Solomens is gay. There’s nothing in the series that disputes that and plenty that lends itself to the reading.

Dunkirk (2017): Tom Hardy plays an RAF pilot in a deep emotional connection with the other main RAF pilot. That’s immediately gay. However he’s not in the movie much because of the way it’s constructed, so I left it off.

Queer Ratings (least to most)

No queer to be found here traveller:

This Means War: 2 out of 10 - illegal movie, Tom Hardy swore he wouldn’t do another rom-com after

Locke: 2 out of 10 - straight Welshman and his straight problems. He pretty though

Lawless: 3 out of 10 - cardigan-Hardy being a mother-hen, but very straight for all that

The Dark Knight Rises: 3 out of 10 - a superhero movie that doesn’t deserve Mr Hardy’s camp talents (unlike Venom)

The Revenant: 3 out of 10 - doesn’t give me what I want out of a movie full of dirty, bearded men

Queer but we deserve more:

Legend: 5 out of 10 - timid homosexuality, considering the source material. 

RocknRolla: 6 out of 10 - hey bro, is it gay if we kill the only female lead in our massive ensemble cast

The queerest of Hardy’s:

Inception: 7 out of 10 - Elliot Page and JGL kissing was an all-around terrible choice that made no sense, we know the truth, Nolan

Warrior: 8 out of 10 - I’m still crying, Edgerton’s crying, Hardy’s crying, we’re all crying, and I think that’s really emotionally healthy and queer of us

Mad Max: Fury Road: 9 out of 10 - non-romantic love in the time of BDSM post-apocalyptic wastelands is something that can actually be so personal

The Drop: 9 out of 10 - “Fucking punk. Go out to dinner dressed like you're still in you living room! You wear those big hippity-hoppity clown shoes! You speak to women terribly! You treat them despicably! You hurt harmless dogs that can't defend themselves! I'm tired of you man. I'm tired of you. You embarrass me!”

Venom: 9.5 out of 10 - Sometimes a relationship is an anxious reporter, the sentient goo inhabiting his body, his kinda-ex-girlfriend and her new doctor boyfriend, and I think that’s beautiful

[dapandapod]

Jaskier needs a hug

Honestly, @the-glorious-half-pints-twin, this started out as your prompt and morphed into something else. Im intending to write your prompt more properly because it’s super cute ang got Soft Potential that I crave.

But this is not what brain did today, so this is looooooosely based on your prompt, with another on it’s way. 

In the mean time, please have goofy random cuddles with a Dramatic Jaskier and Geralt with.. kind of a sense of humor?

Anyway, please enjoy!   On Aoe here!

                                                      ~~*~~ 

It’s been weeks. Months. Years.

Yes, Jaskier is dramatic, what do you want?! Point is, Jaskier needs a hug. Just a hug. Arms around him, or his arms around somewhere else. He isn’t fuzzy, but frankly, there isn’t too much to hug around these parts. 

All the good ladies are taken (it’s not much of a problem but Geralt uses that unhappy frown on him for days if he goes for it), most of the men lack most of their teeth (not really required for hugging, but that is usually not their only problem) and in general, most people he met wanted hugs to go somewhere behind closed doors.

Not that Jaskier minds, but he really, really just wants a hug.

What’s left in options is various monsters, trees, Roach and that one Witcher that accompanies her. Yes, he is talking about Geralt, keep up. 

Monsters, depending on the kind, would probably give him a great hug. Only once though, because he would likely die from it. To be honest, the trees weren't so bad. The trick is to choose correctly, and when Geralt comes looking for him he claims he is lost. It worked twice, after that Geralt tied a rope around his middle to keep him from straying. If he tries to hug Roach he will meet one out of two outcomes. If not both.

Roach will bite him. Or Geralt will bite him. 

And that likely applies if Jaskier actually would work up the nerve to actually try to hug that giant frown of a man.

So yes, Jaskier is grumpy, Jaskier is dramatic, and Jaskier wallows in these two moods and expresses it like an artform. Drapes it around his being like a fashionable cape. Swirls it around himself as he turns, dazzling all around him with grump and drama.

He really doesn’t expect Geralt to pick up the root of the problem. That might not even be what is going in, but three days into moping (because let’s be honest, that’s what this is) Geralt tires of the entire thing.

They are watering Roach just a little way off the main road. Jaskier is sighing loudly, kicking at the leaves and high grass and anything that happens to stick up.

He still has the rope around the middle, courtesy of his latest try to hug a tree, and suddenly there is a tug.

“Stop.”

Tug.

“Quit it.”

Tug tug.

“Fucking… What?? Geralt??” Jaskier turns around, all flare, to give Geralt a taste of that glare he may or may not try to be copying from said witcher.

There is this really tacky dance move Jaskier has seen at very very late night festivals. When one person refuse to dance, and the other pretends to pull at a rope to bring them to the dancefloor.

Picture this, but nobody is dancing and there is actually a rope.

Geralt is pulling Jaskier closer, looking all serious and stone faced and how else you wish to describe that dumb dumb face of his.

“What are you- Why?! What are you doing?” Jaskier doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t really cooperate either. Just like that dance move he ends up being dragged over to Geralt.

They stand only an arms width away from each other, Roach moved from the creek to graze at the grass, ignoring them completely.

Jaskiers pulse speeds up. Last time Geralt asked him to come closer and Jaskier blindly complied, he earned himself a punch in the gut. On the other hand, this time Geralt physically pulled him closer.

Should he...possibly.. maybe try to hug Geralt?

Before he gets the chance to try, Geralt grabs his shoulders with both hands and looks at him gravely.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You stink.”

And toss him straight into the creek.

It’s not very deep, but it’s enough to completely soak him as he falls face first. He swallows one big mouthful of muddy water, he spits and coughs with loud protests and moaning.

“THIS IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME SMELL BETTER?! ARE YOU DAFT?!” 

He rises from the creek like a water hag, water dripping from all of his expensive clothes. He marches straight up to Geralt, heart set on revenge.

Yeah, Geralt weighs a ton. Have you seen the guy? He is huge, and even if he isn’t traveling in his armor it is impossible to get a good grip. Geralt is entirely too good at steering off attacks.

Fine.

Jaskier doesn’t fear death.

So he marches straight back into that creek.

Falls into it, hugs it if you will, and turns around again all soaking wet.

Take aim.

Launch.

And throws himself at Geralt. Not in the intent of trying to push Geralt in the water, but with the intent to bring as much water on Geralt as he can. Like a sponge.

Either Geralt did not anticipate this course of action, or he accepted it. Kind of.

There is some slapping and flailing but then Jaskier presses himself against Geralt's side, wrapping his arms around his chest and clenching that stupid (and STINKY, Geralt! Take a bath!!) tunic and soaking it as best he can.

“Hah!” Jaskier is so pleased with himself, he throws a leg around Geralt and dries himself off like a dog on grass, rubbing his hair and face against Geralt's shoulder.

So it takes him a moment to realize that Geralt is laughing.

He stops, looks up in wonder. No, not looking, staring. Geralt is laughing, throwing his head back that gives him that adorable little double chin. 

Jaskier doesn’t let go.

Of course not. This is way better than hugging a tree. 

“Done moping now? Idiot.” Geralt puts a hand on his forehead and shoves him off. Jaskier is too busy staring at that smile to struggle. There are wet patches on his tunic so Geralt takes it off in a smooth motion.

“What do you say, we make camp here for today? Wash our clothes and clean up? I'm sure they will put away the pitchforks in the village if we don’t announce ourselves by smelling. ...Uh. Earth to Jaskier? Hellooo?” 

Jaskier is not done staring. Smiles and bare chest will do that to a man. But he closes his mouth at least, so that is an improvement.

It takes a few minutes to get his brain functions back.

During that time Geralt takes off Roaches gear and she goes a bit further away to find more tasty things to eat.

They actually get around to bathe and clean their clothes. They bask in the warm sun, laying in the grass and just enjoy the nature around them and each other's company.

Jaskier seeking revenge probably doesn’t count as a hug, but he will take it. It feels a bit better and he is ready to hang the Cloak of Dramatics on the rack for a while and just enjoy the moment.

But again, Geralt surprises him.

As they prepare for settle in for the night, rolling out their bedrolls (with a respectable distance, thank you very much) Geralt sits against a tree and leans back.

Again, Geralt tugs him closer. This time by the tunic that he got to borrow, pulling him straight down between Geralt's knees and capturing him in a bear hug. 

Two hugs. In one day.

“Uh… Geralt?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare to move, not daring to wrap his arms around the witcher. They are chest to chest, Geralt holding him in an iron grip.

“Yes?” Geralt mutters, holding him just a little closer.

“Are you.. Why are you hugging me?”

It feels like his chest is swelling three sizes, a tingling sensation spreading through his limbs, closely followed by a warmth. 

“I'm not.”

It’s Jaskiers time to chuckle.

“Oh really?”

“Mmhm.”

Geralts offers up absolutely nothing, but Jaskier now dares to let his arms circle around Geralt's shoulder with a soft sigh. Not the restless, dramatic and grumpy kind that he did before, but a content exhale. 

“I really needed this.” Jaskier admits to Geralt's shoulder There is no way he is telling Geralt, he has been behaving really badly today.

“No shit. I absolutely didn’t notice you hugging everything in your immediate vicinity.” Geralt drawls sarcastically. 

Geralt's warm, callused hand finds its way under Jaskiers tunic. Little electric sparks climbing up his spine and he buries his head in Geralt's neck.

Up until this very point, this could very much be something one friend does for another.

Still could be.

But also not.

And if there is one thing Jaskier wouldn’t mind, it’s that. 

Only, he is afraid it will go away if he points it out. 

Jaskier has seen it one too many times before.

And Geralt is the one person he does not wish to lose. His heart is beating hard, with every breath he takes in the (now much better) smell of his friend, breathing him in deep.

“Are you sniffing me?” Shit.

“No.” Jaskier says and yelps when Geralt pinches his side.

“Fine, fucking… yes. So what. You smell good.”

Geralt falls weirdly quiet and Jaskier has time to have a small internat panic attack and prepare to be shoved away.

“You can sniff me if you want.” Geralt says quietly.

They are stock still in each other's arms. It’s an odd thing to do, an odd thing to say. Jaskier finally caves and pushes his face a little deeper in the crook of Geralt's neck.

Geralt's hands climb higher over Jaskiers' back, and he leans his head against Jaskiers.

“You smell good too.” Jaskier almost dies. “Well. Now you do. Before the bath, not so much.”

“Fuck you.” Jaskier chuckles.

“Nah. Would be real awkward in the morning.” Geralt says, and again they both freeze. Yeah, this is one weird night.

They don’t say anything more after this. Just sits there under the tree, listening to the evening birds and Roachs munching in the distance. 

And if they pulled their bedrolls closer together, and slept with their legs tangled, and woke up too warm curled together, that is just what friends do for each other when you feel lonely.

Probably not.

But that is not a conversation they are ready to have.

For now, there are only hugs.