#I'm sure someone else has already done this

[jayktoralldaylong]

One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.

I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!

"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀

Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.

Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.

And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.

Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.

Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.

I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.

And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.

Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.

Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.

[irrealisms]

hi! yr probably not lookin for asks anymore, but. what's your lifesteal elevator pitch? i know absolutely nothing abt it or any of the folks on the server except the vague things i've absorbed frm reading yr analysis as it crosses my dash, but it compels me, etc.+ also merry christmas! <33 🎄🌟

good news: i am always looking for asks

bad news: my parents DID go to sleep and i was able to wrap presents and put them beneath the tree and so on, so i wasn't going to do more asks tonight

good news again: i actually already have a lifesteal pitch. in a google doc. bc i'm normal

the pitch does assume you're basically already into mcrp and just curious about lifesteal in specific BUT we went to dsmp together so this works out

I really love shitty little tryhards causing problems via impressive feats of minecraft, and lifesteal is full of those. if you like people being good at minecraft, I really recommend lifesteal--in s2, clownpierce was top 50 worldwide at crystal pvp, and now he's washed and in s6 there are 2-3 (depending on who you ask) lifestealers who are better than him at pvp (admittedly maybe not at crystal); in s4, there's some stuff that's impressive in ~vanilla (eg parrot wins a 1v1 while on one heart) and some stuff that's impressive through exploits/social stuff (eg a group of people use a glitch + social engineering to get /op and prove to mojang that the glitch is a security issue that needs patched). every season is like this! lifestealers have backdoored the server 3 seasons in a row (s3-5). for a more recent weird Lifestealer Behavior, rekrap and jumper filled in every end portal room and built new fake ones to make it look like the world glitched and generated without them. lifesteal is weird and constantly coming up with new weird yet impressive things to do. a lot of stuff that's currently banned on lifesteal (F3+A, pie ray) are things i only learned were possible from lifesteal. (on the flip side i'd say: if you are not into shitty little tryhards making weird impressive clickbait, you probably won't like lifesteal, although you may still like hearing about it from time to time.)

related to them being shitty little tryhards causing problems: the rules are...more of a suggestion. getting around the rules, and hiding from the server owner and/or other players that you're doing so, is often part of the fun of lifesteal! (see also the thing where i mentioned that it's been backdoored three seasons in a row.) if that's intriguing: check it out. if not: once again, you have been warned.

lifesteal absolutely has lore and some people roleplay on it, there is nonzero c/cc divide, but it's more like traffic life than, say, late dsmp--it's fully improv, not scripted, and even more than traffic life it is genuinely adversarial. you can sometimes be confident that someone is in character but you can never be sure if someone is out of character, on lifesteal-- things like "going to someone's house irl to turn off their computer" or "lying about your homework/school/sleep schedule" or "changing your entire discord layout so that when you DM someone they think you're someone else" or "claiming you need their footage of an event for your video when actually you just want to see where their spawn point is" are all things that have been done on lifesteal that are considered fair game! everything on lifesteal is real; sometimes this goes well, sometimes it doesn't, but both are interesting to see imo because they are real

partially for this reason and partially for other reasons, lifesteal is fascinating to me as a piece of unique storytelling? a lot of mcyt is doing interesting things with its medium and being improv, lifesteal's not fully unique in that, but definitely if you like that you might like lifesteal. along with the improv, there's the fact that many lifestealers lie about what actually happened in their videos (comparing different videos with the vods, or in some cases with "what people say in various vods" when events weren't streamed, gives some fascinating insights imo--how do people frame their stories? how honest are they? what do they blatantly lie about, what do they gloss over or omit, what do they include in full? who, if anyone, do they see as the heroes or villains? whose videos agree with each other, and whose present a totally different story?), and the fact that conflict about "where do we want the story to go next, what do we think would be an interesting video/the best ending" is often the driving motive for in-character wars and conflicts! if you're interested at all in lifesteal and storytelling, check out barrier blocks part 2 by @mering/@myrmica, which is a deep dive on eclipse federation and the end of lifesteal s4 (those are my special guys); it dips into some academic game studies and it's really, really good. i genuinely cannot recommend it highly enough. (part one is also real good for non-lifesteal-specific discussion of mcrp!)

if you want a more specific plot summary (esp of s4) and/or "how do i actually, like, watch this" (of any seasons): hmu! but that's my pitch. also, read barrier blocks

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 7

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Teen (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 3,724 of 19,250

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AO3 Link

The festivities start before the sun sets. I watch as it sinks below the horizon, a fat red apple amongst the crooked charred tops of green houses and shops. Its dying light falls gently on the shoulders of ladies and gentlemen as they arrive, like a glowing kiss of welcome as strokes of real gold, gold that could be minted, bathe their cheeks and laughter-filled smiles. They arrive in pairs, by themselves, in whole parties that tumble out of stuffed carriages. I watch from the window of my room, having already been done up for an hour at that point. I have dragged the vanity stool over to the window so that I can watch better. Anything to pass the time as I wait for the inevitable final guest of the party: myself.

I have no desire or intent to go down to the feast because I knew that he would be there: the Wizard. Every stroke of the makeup brushes this afternoon felt like porcupine bristles being dragged across the skin of my cheeks, eyelids, and lips. The lips had stung the worst, right in the spot where he had touched his thumb. It was embarrassing really, the way I fell for it all. Emily didn't know anything about what had happened in the throne room, but her words from weeks ago echoed in my head as she wound locks of my hair around the hot iron. You're not the first dummy to try and sleep her way to head maid. The fact that I wasn't the first one was what was eating at me. Was this the kind of treatment that they got? How many had there been before me?

I shake my head at that. No, not before me. I am not a part of any line of women who would sleep with the Wizard, and I do not want to be any part of that line. I'm sure he has needs that are natural to his human body, just the same as he needs to bathe or dress or sleep, but I refuse to think of him like that. It feels disrespectful to even think that he could be so carnally biased that sleeping with him would earn you a higher rank and station, rather than merit.

The thought of him brushing my lips stings me again and I wince, getting up from the window and throwing myself on the bed. There is something about watching the guests arrive that is causing my mind to lose itself, fixating on... I grit my teeth as I push my face into the pillow, not even trying to protect the curls Emily had set or the makeup that had been painted. The cotton pillow is soft against my made-up face and when I try to breathe in, my lungs are confused by the lack of oxygen. Good. If I knock myself out maybe I'll get out of the whole thing altogether.

There is a knock at the door and I dig my claws into the comforter. It's only been a few minutes since Emily left the room and already someone is coming to bother me. I breathe in the pillow quicker, hoping to speed up the process. There's the sound of the door opening and then an unexpected voice.

"You planning to fall through the floor to get to the party?" Bruno says. He bats at my shoe. "C'mon. He wants you downstairs."

What? So he can embarrass me? It was one thing when we were in the darkness of the control room, or even teasing remarks in front of Humak, but to do it in front of hundreds of strangers? "I'm not going," I muffle into the pillow.

"I don't know what you said, but you'd better get up before I make you," he says.

I turn my head just enough and find myself involuntarily sucking in clean air. "I said 'I'm not going', okay? You can't make me."

"For Oz's sake," he says, and then he yanks me by the ankle as I squeak in protest. "This is the hill you're going to die on? A stupid party is worth your sister's life?" He yanks me once more and I tumble to the floor, the wind going out of me in a yelp.

"No! I'll run away!" I say, scrambling to my feet. I say this, despite never having thought about it before or knowing how I would survive outside of the Emerald City with no money and a second mouth to feed. I don’t even know how I would get out of the palace without a guard stopping me.

"You look fine," he says. "Now, let's go."

"No," I say.

"What the hell is wrong with you?” he says “You see a ghost or something? There's food downstairs and drinks and dancing.” Dancing. The thought of the Wizard's hands on me again, the knowledge that I'd fall for it again like an idiot... The Wizard had magic in more ways than one.

"I don't want to dance," I say, "...with strangers, that is. Have you seen the Arjiki guards? They're frightening." They aren't, but it's better than confessing my relational problems to no-nonsense Bruno. What would he know of... whatever the Wizard and I were?

"Well, then you can dance with me then," he says.

I blink, having never considered the possibility before. The party would be better than hiding in my room upstairs because I would have an excuse to not see the Wizard. How could he dance with me if I filled my entire dance card with other people? Up here I ran the risk of him slipping away from the party to come torment me in private. "You mean it?" I ask. Bruno simply offers his arm, and I take it.

We take our time walking down to the Grand Ballroom. I ask Bruno how Leo is doing. Apparently, he got in trouble at school the other day for beating a kid up on the playground. I ask him if the kid deserved it and he laughs, asking me about Fileah instead. There's nothing new to report back besides telling him I'm trying to be on my best behavior so I can see her again. We don't talk about the riot. I hope Fileah has stopped talking about it by herself as I hadn't had the chance to tell her to. The Wizard has been keeping me busy with etiquette assignments and other stupid tasks that seem to take up the whole day past when visiting hours are over. As we enter the Grand Ballroom, I can feel the puzzle piece of the confusing social training click into place and realize that he had this party planned for a while and was truly planning to surprise me.

Tulle and taffeta skim across the floor in coiling circles as partners guide them along, sometimes breaking off and weaving in and out of the ladies and gentlemen, all the while laughing. Toward the front of the room parallel to the wall, and on the dais there are tables laden with food. As we draw closer I can see suckling pigs that have been roasted until bronzed, the skin pulled so tight that you could taste the way it would crackle in your mouth without ever sinking your teeth into it. There are turkeys that have been herbed and stuffed and are twice the size of the biggest one I've ever seen. In between the meats are bowls so big that you would have to carry them with both arms filled with buttered turnips, roasted brussel sprouts, sugared beets, whipped and airy potatoes, and several others that I ignore once I see the towers of desserts. The guests who are not dizzying themselves with merriment have taken seats along these tables, filling their plates with any and all of the offerings.

The table on the dais is packed. Fiyero, Humak, and some of their guards that I had seen earlier are seated on the left, a few strangers are seated on the right, and in dead-center there’s him. The Wizard's lips are pressed together in a hard line, goblet draped lazily in hand, and an empty seat beside him. His eyes are scanning the room, and I know he is looking for me.

"This was a mistake," I say, pressing against Bruno to try and get past him.

"I'll be here and ready to dance with you when it's time," he says reassuringly. He takes my wrist which now has a dance card attached to it. Someone must have slipped it on me while I was salivating over the food. Quickly, he pencils his name into two or three slots – I'm not sure how many as I'm watching the Wizard stare at me, not once breaking the gaze – and then he guides me up to the dais. "I'll come get you when it's time."

I climb the stairs on the right side of the dais, trying to find a seat that hasn't been taken already. Unfortunately, all of the seats at the table are labeled with place cards, little bits of cream cardstock that have been etched in curling script with names and titles. I try to keep my eyes on the whirling bodies of the dance floor and away from the Wizard's tiger-like gaze. The dancers seem to have moved onto a reel, two great ovals smashed together as couples take turns dancing down the aisle of refined and all-green and gold clothing. I watch intently, even as I take my seat next to him, even as I can smell the spiced cloud of his cologne, even as I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face to make it so hot that I wonder if I have a fever and might be excused from the party to undisturbed bed rest.

We sit like this for an eternity, letting the full orchestra swallow up our unsaid words, until a familiar voice asks, "Are you a big dancer?" It's Fiyero, goblet in hand, and much more fashionably dressed than the last time I saw him, a satin blue military jacket perfectly accompanying his blinding smile and the twinkle in his eyes.

I have to ask him to repeat himself, feigning that the orchestra is too loud to hear him. He does, and I swear I could go down to the Unionist chapel right now and thank the Unnamed God for getting me away from the man sitting next to me. "Oh yes!" I say. "I love dancing. I don't get to do it much, so I'm really trying to take it all in."

Prince Fiyero laughs at that. "Wouldn't it be better to take it in on the dance floor?" He offers me a hand, and I don't have to think twice before taking it.

I don't have to imagine that Fiyero is a heartbreaker back in Winkie Country. I can feel my own butterflies flap their wings in curiosity at how graceful and perfectly gentlemanlike he is: the way his hand warmly guides me by the waist, the way he laughs at anything that I say and always has the perfect banter ready to shoot back. Even his eyes, his hair, and his teeth are perfectly perfect, and yet I am still not completely sold. Stopping me from falling for him fully is almost equally the shock that a prince has asked me to dance with him when I had been sharing a bed for warmth and stealing ribbons weeks ago, and the fact that I can still feel the Wizard's eyes on me.

I look to the dais, and even though we are a good hundred feet away, I can see the anger seeping from him, how Humak who was sitting to his right looks at him nervously as if the man in the satin green tuxedo were going to explode and kill him in the process. Good, I think. It was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. It wouldn't hurt him to see me dancing with the enemy. It's just a little harmless fun so maybe he'd stop trying to mess with my head and toy with me.

I'm not familiar with the dance that plays next, but Fiyero is such an excellent partner that everyone who looks at us would think I had known it my whole life. He jokes with me about how the party hadn't really started until I showed up and I almost believe him. By the end of it, I have a stitch in my side from all of the dancing and the laughing. I feel as if I could down an entire bottle of fizzy wine the way I'm out of breath and giddy to go again. I don't need the wine as I feel a strange warmth spreading within me. Looking at Fiyero, I'm more than glad he came to the Emerald City, and not just glad that he got me away from the Wizard.

"Come on! Come on!" a man in spectacles that pinch his pupils into reptilian slits shouts. "Let's play a game of Blind Man's Buff!"

This sends the crowd into a tizzy of excitement, young women shrieking with delight and pushing each other, the gentlemen gathering closer to the bespectacled man.

"Blind Man's Buff?" I say, grabbing Fiyero's arm. "What is it?"

Fiyero's grin spreads wide in excitement and he pulls me into the throng of those who have had enough of dancing. The man in the lizard glasses is now waving a white scarf as if it were a flag of surrender as the mob pushes in.

"Who shall be our Blind Man?" Lizard Eyes asks.

Fiyero pulls me forward and pushes me to the front. "Take her!" he shouts, waving my hand above my head. "She's a virgin!"

"A virgin!?" Lizard Eyes exclaims.

I'm short-circuiting over them discussing whether I've slept with anyone before when Fiyero whispers in my ear, "It just means you've never played before, love." The butterflies are now beating their wings in earnest.

"Yes! Yes!" Lizard Eyes says. "It will be a special Lurlinemas treat, then. A real game to remember!" Quickly, Lizard Eyes blindfolds me, the world going dark as the soft and warm cashmere is wrapped snuggly around my eyes. Despite the scarf being white, there is still a green light that comes through, and I realize just how truly green the entire palace and city are if even a thick scarf can't block the verdant glow. "Should we make it a special game?" the voice of Lizard Eyes says.

"Lover's fate!" Fiyero shouts out.

"What's that?" I try to ask Lizard Eyes. However, I can't see him, and my guess as to where he is remains in the last place I saw him. I reach out to my right and touch nothing but air. This earns a laugh from the crowd.

"Lover's fate!" people agree, some even starting a chant.

"Lover's fate it will be!" Lizard Eyes says. He must have moved back behind me, I realize, turning in that direction. "You will have to search the room looking for people. Once you grab someone, you must identify them." He giggles.

"Sounds easy," I say. I hope I catch Fiyero, I think. He's familiar enough and I wouldn't mind an excuse to touch that perfect face of his.

"Well, it would be, except you can't use your hands," Lizard Eyes says. "You'll have to kiss them to figure it out."

I want to rip off the scarf and go hide under one of the banquet tables when Lizard Eyes grabs me by the shoulders and starts spinning me around and around until I'm so dizzy that I want to lay on the floor until my head comes back to normal. Even if I lay there all evening, it would never stop the spinning on account of how many strangers there were and that I would have to kiss one of them. The thought makes my stomach go cold, so I know that I have to find Fiyero. Maybe I’ll be glad that I came to the party after all. Maybe...

The mob that had gathered around Lizard Eyes is now quickly dispersing and reeling back in. Their whoops and hollers are growing distant and then occasionally they bump past me in taunt, but I don’t care. Frankly, there are too many of them, and I'm trying to pick out Fiyero's voice. The slight Winkie accent is what I'm looking for, the way it sparkles. I think I hear him 10 feet diagonally to the right of me. I go chasing after it and can hear his laugh as I fall through the air in my attempt to catch him.

"If I had known you wanted to kiss me that bad," he says, "we could have skipped the dancing."

I'm following his voice once again, trying to sneak up on him. "Okay," I say. "So then get over here." Another snatch and a miss.

"Nuh-uh," he says. "I'm undefeated in this game. You can kiss me afterward if you really want to."

I make a dash for him and miss the grab again. I stomp my foot, willing him to hold still.

"You know, you're supposed to chase other people too," he says. Another missed grab.

"Well nobody told me that," I retort back. I fake going after other people, trying to keep his location in mind. When I'm satisfied with enough squeals and laughs, I taunt him again. "Maybe you're undefeated because you're scared."

"I'm not scared," he says. 8 feet to my left. I reach for the rustle of a skirt that I hear closest to me, pretending to chase it as I make a semicircle to cut him off. I shoot my hand out and grab hold of an arm clad in a soft satin. The blue and gold dress military jacket.

"Too easy," I say with a smirk. The room has gone silent and I can't stop grinning at the thought of the Arjiki prince kissing the Wizard’s special guest. Serve’s him right. "Kiss me."

His fingertips are warm as his hands cradle my face. The room is still holding its breath as I feel just the brush of his lips against my own.

"You call that a kiss?" I whisper. "Kiss me."

His lips crush mine openly, an invitation. I let my tongue slide against his lower lip as his tongue slips against mine and into my mouth, pressing my tongue back into submission. It's everything I can do to not fall into his arms and let him carry me out of the party. He was certainly better than any schoolyard kisses and there was a promise of domination in the way his tongue danced with mine that sent a thrill up my spine.

When he pulls away, his name is already on my lips as I tear the scarf off. I don't make it past the first syllable.

It's him. There's a look of hurt in his eyes and I can't help but feel like an idiot. I was so wrapped up in the idea of kissing Fiyero that I couldn't even recognize the same small scars that had touched my hands earlier that day or the way his mustache and goatee had scratched the delicate skin of my lips.

So many things are crashing and burying me like an avalanche: the way he's looking at me, the way the room is still silent and staring at us, the way Fiyero has a shit-eating grin and I can tell he's holding in a laugh, the way I liked it and still want more. This last part is what sends me running from the room and out into the winding halls of the Emerald Palace.

I need to get away from him, to think this out. How was I ever going to face him again? I remember telling Bruno about how I would run away, and now I'm seriously considering it. How much could a train ticket possibly cost? Fileah and I could probably run away and live in the jungle off of the fruits of the forest until we found somewhere nice in Munchkinland to house us. Maybe Bruno had some family outside of the Emerald City that could hide us.

I burst through the hallway and find myself back in the throne room. Sweet Oz, anywhere but here. The face is well hidden amongst the vines again. I consider going up into it to cry – it'd probably be the last place he'd expect to find me – when I hear a queer wooden sound. It sounds like a penny made of wood is spinning around and around before it falls flat. Then the crash happens, followed by cursing.

I run over to the source of the commotion to see Humak Tigelaar with a funny-looking object in his hands.

"Humak," I say through a tear-constricted throat, "you're missing the party."

Humak laughs nervously at this, agreeing with me. It is as he's trying to slip away that I realize what he's holding.

"The Grimmerie," I breathe.

Humak's smile drops and instantaneously he's bolting into the hallways.

All I wanted to do was to be left alone, to just go somewhere where no one would find me while I tried to sort out what would be best for me, what would be best for Fileah. No, in truth, it was just what would be best for me. If I had really been selfless I would have played whatever part he had set for me and done it happily. Ribbons were a fraction of his generosity, and she could have had anything in the world if I had just played the stupid part.

I feel like Lizard Eyes has spun me around and around for a second time as the machine that is Oz the Great and Terrible seems to be floating up with its ropes towards the ceiling, the ceiling falling to the floor. I stumble, feeling for any sort of familiarity or guidepost in what to do, and I keep stumbling, footstep after footstep until I reach the entrance to the Officer's wing.

My voice sounds a thousand yards away as I yell for help.

[jaeyong-sucker]

christmas gift

pairing: lee jeno x male reader

genre: smut and fluff (?)

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, blowjobs, face fucking, anilingus, posssessiveness, breeding, voyeurism, vibrators, mirror sex, cum and saliva play

note: not proofread... i just wanted to write something for the christmas season... i'm still cringy in writing dialogues and fluff so please cut me some slack... please forgive the rusty writing... still, merry christmas and happy holidays!

For more than a decade, it has been a tradition for you and your neighbor's families to celebrate Christmas together. What started out as a simple gesture of gratitude to your neighbor for showing your family around town when you moved in years ago flourished into a deep bond that reaches its peak every Christmas. Thanks to your neighbor’s family, you were able to have someone who you spent your elementary and highschool days with. Someone who has witnessed you lose a tooth and have your first crush. He was also the first one to know about your first erection and nocturnal emissions as well as your identity as a gay person. Eyes formed into crescents and nose scrunched, he embraced you as he whispers back that he's gay. That was just the start of your freaky experiments and adventures from being each other's first kiss to jerking each other's dicks. Today wasn't any different, although maybe a bit freakier.

The moment you were done cleaning up the whole place (your families celebrated in Jeno's house and you decided to stay for the night), and probably done with Jeno playing with the vibrator stuck up in your ass throughout the WHOLE celebration, you quickly grabbed Jeno into his room, almost crushing your eardrums from the ear-splitting bang from closing the door. Jeno's smirk grew wider upon seeing your well put-up personality in the celebration earlier melt down into this messed up spirit, desperate to fulfill your carnal desires.

“Mmmhh, Jeno.”

“You were so unbothered a while ago. I'm impressed.” Jeno utters as he watches you hump yourself over his crotch. Leaning back as he is seated on the edge of his bed, he rolls his hips upwards, providing friction to your crotches, pulling long, delicious moans from your mouths.

“Shut up,” you scoff, landing a slap on his exposed chest. “If only there were no one else around, I would've fucked you already,” you talk back, slipping your dress shirt off as you lean back and admire Jeno's body. He looks so innocent and put-together as if he isn't the root of your desires to fuck with him on the spot. With the top of his dress shirt unbuttoned on purpose, almost half of his toned chest and the top of his upper abs are completely exposed. If you were an Omega you'd surely be washed over by a huge wave of heat and might be begging for Jeno to breed you and fill your hole with his pups.

While you were classy in the celebration, you were a fucked out mess in the bedroom to Jeno's delight. You're almost heated, sweaty, and nakedㅡyour lace panties left nothing to the imaginationㅡ while Jeno doesn't even look as troubled as you are. His hair still kempt and his ironed clothes are still on, prolonging the teasing from that stupid vibrator earlier in the occasion.

Jeno remains still, delightfully watching you rub your crotch against his with much desperation and want. His palms reach down to cup both globes of your ass cheeks before squeezing them in a painfully slow pace. Still unsatisfied at how messed up you are already, he plays with your puckered hole with one finger, pressing against the vibrator poking your prostate, making you shudder sensitively at his salacious touches. In response, you slam your lips against his, sucking his lips and tongue before moving to his neck. You dig your teeth before sucking in that spot you know and love so, so well, pulling a chain of deep moans from Jeno. As you leave a mark, Jeno (who probably couldn't hold his unbothered persona) throws you to the bed before taking off his clothes in a heated fashion.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, baby,” he utters in a low voice as he gets on his knees before moving closer to your face. He taps his erect, veiny, leaking cock on your lips with a knowing smirk on his face. Not needing a verbal command, you quickly took Jeno's cock inside your mouth before bobbing your head on it. Being an expert at sucking his cock, you knew all the ways to capture Jeno's bliss whenever you give him a blowjob. You knew how to take his huge cock down your throat while tonguing on every vein and nook that makes him want to bury his cock deeper into your throat.

“Fuck, good boy,” he moans gutturally, throwing his head back before reaching for your hair. He gives your hair a few strokes before rolling his hips, thrusting into your mouth. His praise churning butterflies in your stomach, you upped his pleasure by sucking on his tip and tonguing on the frenulum. The action immediately aroused Jeno as you feel his grip on your hair tighten, and his cock harden while beads of sweat form all over his body. Pushing it even further, you cups Jeno's balls with your hands and damn were they heavy. Jeno rarely touches himself since he only enjoys it when he's around you. Thank god his college schedule is so busy and you're surely up for a huge explosion of cum tonight.

Moaning louder and wilder (he pays no mind since his walls are soundproof), he pulls out before laying on his back. You quickly hoisted yourself on top of him with your ass on Jeno's face before returning to sucking his angry cock. He reaches for his phone to put the vibrator to a high setting before landing a kiss on your puckered rim. Immediately, the vibrations send zaps of pleasure all over your body. With the vibrator hitting your prostate deliciously, you tremble as you suck Jeno's cock more urgently, lapping on the forming beads of precum over his slit.

“J-Jeno, fuck it feels so good,” you squeal as Jeno plays with your rim as he takes the entirety of your dick inside his mouth. He expertly takes all of your cock that it reaches the back of his throat (he sucked you off far more than you gave him blowjobs), humming and moaning loudly around your already sensitive dick, causing you to moan sluttilly. His one hand stretches your hole while the other gave your hanging balls the sweetest massages. Jeno just sucks you so good that all you could do is moan and squeal at every action he does that you neglect his throbbing cock, which gets harder and wetter as you moan more for him.

“Feels good baby? Tell daddy how it feels, come on.” He lands a slap on your thick ass cheek before burying his face inside your ass. He languidly inserts his tongue before lapping on the sweetest nooks and crannies, while jerking off your dick. The vibrator gets set into its maximum, sending your mind into haywire.

“Fuck, it feels so good!” “You’re so good, daddy!” “Shit, daddy, I want more!”

Jeno's cock hardens and leaks angrily as you sluttilly moan out at his actions. He smirks as he eats you out harder and thrusts the vibrator into your prostate while jerking off your tip with his thumb circling on your leaking slit.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in pleasure as he spits on your puckered hole. Drool covering his lips, he spanks your thick ass once again before eating you out harder like a starved animal. The pleasure from the vibrator sweetly hitting your prostate and Jeno eating you out while deliciously jerking your dick is so intense that all you do is moan and irresistibly thrust into his hand. The room already smells like sweat and you know you're barely halfway with Jeno.

“Shit, daddy, I'm cumming!” You squeal wantonly as you squirt uncontrollably over Jeno's torso. Smirking, Jeno jerks you off harder and faster, intensifying your release that you squirt out more fluids that soiled Jeno's sheets. “Daddy, it feels so good,” you tear up as you hump Jeno's abs, seeking for friction. Not even taking the time to recover, you face Jeno and straddle his lap before kissing him messily. Jeno immediately reciprocates, pulling you closer by the neck before kissing back lusciously. He sits up, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you deeper, taking control with his tongue swirling with yours and your lips rhythmically moving, satisfying and fueling your lust at the same time. You wrap your legs around Jeno's waist while your hands find their way to his broad muscled shoulders and back. As if on cue, Jeno grinds his aching erection against yours. He moans as your cocks grind against each other, releasung spurts of sticky precum.

Moaning, Jeno smoothly moves from your lips to your neck before kissing and sucking on the sensitive region. He bites and leaves multiple marks that'll probably fade in a week or two. But you didn't mind. Everything Jeno does is just sinfully pleasing that you sqeual and tug on his hair as he thrusts the vibrator deeper and harder inside you while inserting four fingers to stretch out your needy hole. Jeno has fingered you and jerked you off for so long that you forgot when you last felt the sensation of his cock inside you. College is a bastard.

“J-Jeno, put it in please,” you whimper shakily against his lips. You pull him off from your neck as you look at him needily. “I want you to fuck me now, please,” you plead as you grind your ass against his hard cock. He doesn't say a word.

“Mmmhh,” he moans deeply, leaning back from the friction caused by your ass cheeks gratifyingly brushing against his huge length. He closes his eyes and moans, grinding his cock deliberately against your rim to tease you.

“Jeno, please,” you whimper, planting pecks on his lips and neck. “You want this, too, right, daddy?” He leans forward, sucking on your nipples while grinding harder on your ass. “Let’s fuck now, please, daddy.”

Daddy. The word that scratches Jeno's horny brain in the right places. The mention of the word made him pull out the vibrator before lifting your hips, hole just right above his head before generously lubing his cock. Gently, he helps you sink down his tall, thick length. Immediately, you place your hand on his shoulders for leverage. Damn it, the stretching earlier wasn't enough to take his humongous length.

“Take your time, baby,” he whispers before pecking your lips. “We’ll go according to your own pace,” he whispers again, before making out with you passionately with his hands gently guiding your hips. Moaning nonstop, you plant your lips on his before kissing ardently as you slowly take Jeno's whole cock. As you kiss, you roam your hands over Jeno's firm, sculpted chest, giving them tender squeezes before touching his chiseled six-pack abs and well-defined biceps. Jeno delightfully moans, already deep in pleasure as his whole cock gets buried inside your warmth. He wraps his arms around you, pulling away as he moans into your ear. He slightly rolls his hips, burying his cock deeper inside you, pulling a chain of blissed out moans from Jeno.

He pecks your lips oncd again before looking at your tenderly.

“I love you.” He confesses before pecking your lips once again.

“I love you, too.” You reply, tears welling in your eyes, with your chest filling with warmth.

Your lips meet once again, now tender and affectionate compared to your previous ones that were rushed and fiery. Jeno pulls you closer by your nape, moaning as he kisses you lovingly. You grind against each other, touching each other's bodies out of warmth and adoration, equally receiving warmth deeper than physical pleasures. You trace Jeno's muscles, tenderly memorizing every detail of muscle while he lovingly touches your thick thighs and love handlesㅡwhich you’re deeply insecure of.

Pulling away from the breathtaking kiss, you press your forehead to Jeno's before pecking his lips. “Make love to me,” you whisper against his lips to which he responds immediately by gently thrusting his hips up, his tip hitting your prostate perfectly. He holds you by your hips, doing all the work as he plants his feet on the bed to leverage his thrusts. Jeno thrusts at a moderate pace while kissing your neck lovingly.

“How does it feel, baby,” he asks tenderly as he pecks your lips.

“I love it, daddy,” you squeal, digging your nails into Jeno's shoulders. “I wanna be under you.”

Gently, Jeno lays you on your back before lubing his cock once again. He inserts his cock inside your needy hole before moderately pounding into you.

“You are so beautiful, baby,” Jeno shakily moans between thrusts. “God, I can't believe I have you,” he cups your face before pecking your lips. “You’re so fucking perfect, fuck,” he moans as he thrusts slightly faster and deeper in your warm walls. Jeno was already great in fucking you but his words just make you more aroused at the moment, with his loving, piercing gaze making you wetter with more precum leaking out of your dick.

“Feel good, baby,” he asks. “Because you make me feel so, so fucking good, love” he deeply groans before reaching your hand tightly gripping the sheets before lacing his fingers with yours.

“Y-Yes, Jeno, it feels so good!” You whimper, arching your back, reacting to Jeno thrusting his thick cock deeper inside you. “You always know how to make me feel good,” you moan loudly as you look at him with your blissed out expression. “Fuck me faster please! I wanna see ourselves in the mirror!” You squeal, clenching tightly around Jeno's hard length.

Louder moans erupted from Jeno's throat as he positions you on all fours facing the full length mirror in front of his bed. “Fuck, this is so hot, babe,” he moans as he taps his cock on your rim before entering. You both moan at the sweet penetration that Jeno pulls you up, close to his body that you feel his muscular torso and abs from behind. “I love you so much,” he moans as before making out with you lovingly, while gently grinding his cock against your prostate. You kiss back eagerly, grinding back, meeting his soft thrusts, eliciting blissed out moans from the both of you.

While making out, Jeno thrusts faster and harder, reaching deeper inside your tight hole. You both pull away, moaning shamelessly in bliss as waves of pleasure travels throughout your sensitive bodies. After leaving a hickey on your neck, Jeno instructs you to look into the mirror, to which you immediately comply.

“We look hot, don't we?” He asks, nibbling your ears while playing with your taut nipples. You moan sweetly, taking in the sinful yet pleasing moving image in the mirror, apart from Jeno's thrusts increasing in pace and intensity. You couldn't help but lick your lips and drool at the sight in front of you. You and Jeno, perfectly paired for each other. Just as you thought what you saw in the mirror got you heated enough, Jeno smirks before inserting fingers in your mouth while his other hand reaches for your leaking dick before giving it lascivious pumps.

“Fuck, baby, how could you be so tight?” Jeno grunts into your ears as he drills your hole deeper. “This feels so perfect, like we're having sex for the first time,” he moans, reaching a new depth manifested by a bulge in your stomach. The sight is just dirty. Jeno fucking you wildly from behind with his fingers in your mouth and his hand jerks off your dick. You looking like a completely whored up slut, jolting from Jeno's actions and pulling his hair from extreme arousal. Sweat drips from your temples to your torsos, basically coating your bodies.

“Daddy, I wanna ride you, please!” You squeal sluttilly, to which Jeno responds by sitting on the edge of the bed with his cock still inside you. “Wanna make you feel good,” you whimper as you prop yourself over Jeno while still facing the mirror. Planting your feet on the bed, you swiftly slide down all over Jeno's length, bouncing immediately over his cock. Loud, lascivious moans erupted from your throats, not caring if anyone could hear you.

“Daddy, you're so fucking big!” You squeal with your hole tightly clenched around Jeno's throbbing, leaking length. His huge dick just stretches you everytime he penetrates you. His cock just perfectly hits all the right nooks and crevices of your tight hole and you think you will never be used to Jeno's length. Fucking yourself into his huge cock always feels like your first time being penetrated by him. It's like him claiming your virginity in every fucking session you have.

“Daddy, you're so deep inside me! I can feel it in my stomach!” You both moan upon seeing your stomach being bulged by Jeno's huge cock in the mirror. Not able to keep his hands to himself, Jeno again jerks for your dick with one hand, while the other reaches for your neck, giving it a moderate squeeze as you ride him wildly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful riding my cock like this, baby,” he moans, jerking your sensitive dick faster. “You’re such a good boy, making his daddy feel so fucking good,” he utters, nibbling your earlobe before kissing your neck.

He meets your gaze in the mirror. “Who’s my good boy,” he seductively asks, thrusting his cock deeply once. Too caught up in pleasure, you sob in sweet bliss, bouncing harder and faster, impaling your hole, stabbing your prostate with Jeno's large cock, creating nasty sounds of your skins slapping that it echoes across the room with your ragged breathing and lascivious moans. You throw your head back, unable to bounce on his cock, prompting Jeno to lift you by your legs and thrusting upwards, abusing your prostate with his unforgiving thrusts.

“You are fucking mine, baby,” he growls, spanking your ass harshly, probably leaving a handprint. “You are only mine, bitch, yes?!” He grunts, pummeling into your hole deeper and faster than he has ever been. You could only moan from pleasure and hold on tightly on his shoulders. Jeno smirks at the sight of you moaning dumbly, uttering incoherent phrases brought by him fucking you deliciously.

He presses you to the wall before thrusting upwards relentlessly. In response, you wraps your legs tightly around his waist, securing his deep, animalistic thrusts. Growling, he buries his head to your neck before kissing, licking, biting, and adding a new set of marks from your neck to your shoulders and chest. He doesn't care if it'll fade or not. It's him marking his possession.

“Who’s your daddy,” he asks, gazing at you intensely. His gaze leaves you weak and melting from his actions. Too aroused to even speak, you close your eyes and throw your head back to let Jeno use you and fuck you relentlessly. Before you could even throw your head back, Jeno grabs you by the jaw, making you meet his now more intense gaze.

“I said, who's your fucking daddy?! Answer me, dumb bitch!” He growls, wrapping a hand around your neck.

“I-It’s you!” You manage to whimper. “You, Jeno! You are my daddy!” You were practically screaming, your squeals probably penetrating the soundproof wall or even heard by the other neighbors. You couldn't care less. Jeno just confessed his love to you and fucking you wildly like a beast.

“That’s right, dumb slut,�� he scoffs, landing a soft slap on your cheek. “You belong to me as much as I belong to you, right? Put that in your fucking head.” He growls before throwing you back into the bed.

He hovers on top of you, putting your legs over his broad shoulders before returning to drilling your abused hole. You squeal shamelessly while he grunts louder, the volume of the sounds of bliss growing louder as you approach your climax.

“Are you cumming,” Jeno shakily asks, noticing your leaking dick twitching. His thrusts are not as fast and deep and hard. He grunts, his thrusts becoming inconsistent.

“Yea, cumming!” You squeal, trembling as your orgasm arrives, hitting you hard like a truck. Thick ribbons of cum spurted from your dick. Shuddering, you came messily between your bodies. Your cum coated your and Jeno's torso’s with some even reaching Jeno's face.

Jeno grunts harder and louder, moaning against your lips as he finally explodes his release inside your tight, warm walls. Trembling from his hard orgasm, he presses his lips against yours, making out with you messily with drool and cum all over your lips. He cums generously, flooding your hole with his hot, sticky cum. He moans and whines into the kiss, as he becomes sensitive with the continuous ejaculation of his cum that a lot of it even leaks out of your pink hole. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together as you sloppily make out while recovering from your tremendous orgasms. 

Once everything got stable, Jeno pulls away from the kiss, landing another peck on your lips before slowly pulling his sensitive cock out of your hole. He hisses, glans still sensitive from the earlier orgasm, as he jerks off the last contents of his balls. Jeno leans down, burying his head in your cum-filled ass before lapping at and slurping all of his hot cum and licking your hole clean before licking your release all over your body before leaning back towards you for another kiss. 

He moans as he plays with the mixed semen and mixes it with his saliva before transferring it to you in the kiss. He inserts his tongue in your mouth, ensuring you suck all the remnants of saliva and cum from him. Jeno pulls away, landing a peck on your lips and a kiss on your forehead before laying beside you. 

You pull his arm, laying his bicep down the bed before using it as a pillow. With his free arm, Jeno holds you close by the waist before he lays on his side. He plants a kiss on the back of your head, making a sound of contentment before locking his feet with yours. 

“How are you, baby?” He asks softly, caressing your body gently. 

“Happy,” you smile, “although a bit sore.” “But I am happy nonetheless.” You scoot closer, feeling more of Jeno's warmth, while watching the starry sky through his glass wall overlooking the neighborhood. 

“What I said earlier, I meant it, baby. I love you and I want to be your boyfriend.” He whispers sincerely. You turn around to face him and see an equally sincere expression on his face. 

“I meant what I said too, love. I was just waiting for you to say it first.” You answer back, landing a peck on his lips. “Actually, I have already known for a long time. I was just waiting for you to say it.” You kiss Jeno on the forehead, making him blush and flustered, a rare moment for Jeno. 

“I didn't know when to say it. I guess I said it the way I didn't expect.” He giggles, flustered. “But really, I love you so much, Y/N.” 

“I love you so, so much, too, Jeno.” You give him another forehead kiss, which he enjoys. 

“Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou,” he pulls you close, planting kisses all over your face. 

“There. Treat your boyfriend with kisses and cuddles after fucking him like a wild rabbit a while ago.” You utter, acting sassily. 

He pulls away, sighing and smiling in contentment. “What a perfect Christmas present. A boyfriend.”

He sits both of you up before straddling your waist. “I love you,” he smiles, eyes formed into crescents before leaning in for a short make out. 

“Actually, I have another wish for Christmas,” he whispers, eyes forming into that of a puppy’s, acting cute which he rarely does. 

“And what is it, handsome?” You grin, pretending you don't know of this secret of his. 

“I want you to top me,” he says with puppy eyes without a hint of shyness or reservation. “Please?” He asks, like a good boy. 

You land a spank on his firm buttocks. “Get on all fours now.” 

Like a happy puppy wagging his tail, he eagerly gets into said position, ready to obey your next command. 

Boy, this'll be a night for the both of you. 

It'll also be a night for Jeno's gym buddy, named Jaemin,  living across the street, who just came from watching you from his window. 

[gouraminnow]

One Piece / Straw hats with a Reader who struggles with ASI (Autistic Self Injury)

Warnings: Self harm, primarily

ASI is sometimes referred to as Non-Suicidal Self Injury, and it's typically not done deliberately the way "standard" SH is. It can be because of both under or over-stimulation, or sometimes it can just be a form of stimming that happens to be physically harmful. This isn't exclusive to autism, it's also common w/ compulsion based disorders such as OCD.

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional of any sort I'm just a guy who has it. My experience is not universal and most of this will be based on how I experience and deal with these problems.

POST THAT CATERS TO ME BEFORE ANYBODY ELSE HERE WE GO!!!

In all honesty One Piece is so chock-full of quirky and frankly weird people that I don't think an autistic person would phase most characters all that much. Not saying ableism wouldn't exist at all, but like. Franky is here. I don't think most lower-support needs autistic people would even be noticed by anyone other than some of the doctor characters and I don't think high-support needs people would be treated badly (By the more... decent characters, anyway). I mean hell I will always go to bat for autistic Luffy hcs, as well as Robin and Usopp to a degree but ANYWAY!

Before everyone is used to it, the site of you doing it (while upset especially) has everyone scrambling to grab you and stop it from continuing. There is… a good chance this upsets you even more, having your new crewmates suddenly swarming you... it takes a bit of back and forth, explaining that this is just normal for you.

Luffy is the one I thought of first... I've always been a biter. Whether it's nails or biting open the skin on my hands it's one of the forms I personally struggle with a lot. Now I may think Luffy is autistic but this does NOT mean I think he'd immediately understand/get it. Obligatory "autism is a spectrum" spiel, a lot of us butt heads if we have conflicting symptoms/struggles. Luffy is sympathetic, and worried about you, but he's also very blunt and there's a good chance he'd argue with you over it. What are you upset about? Clearly something's wrong, if you're doing this. What do you mean you don't notice? You're bleeding. Doesn't it hurt? This is bad for you. He's worried, so just cut it out already!

You tell him it's just an impulse you don't think about, like wiping your nose or tapping your foot. It doesn't really hurt until someone points it out, or if you accidentally do something really bad. His brows screw up, and he stares at you very intently. He says if you can't stop, then he WILL help you the next time it happens. You're a little put off, and have the suspicion that he doesn't really get it, but... well, he clearly means well. It's nice that he worries about you, and that even while ignorant in some aspects of his concern, he doesn't belittle or blame you for these behaviors... ultimately, you feel pretty okay about how things went.

Until the next time he sees you doing it, he launches across the ship to shove his nasty, grubby-ass hands into your mouth. "It doesn't hurt me!" he exclaims, while you try to cuss him out and avoid gagging on his stupid, rubbery fingers. "You need to bite, so bite me! This way hurts nobody, shishishi!" You shriek, the two of you toppling over onto the deck. Sanji or Nami smack him over the head to get him off of you. It wasn't what you'd call helpful, but... if he's out on deck or in the room with you, there's a little self-check you run through to make sure nothing your doing will warrant... that. So maybe it does sort of work?

Luffy has a similar approach to other forms of ASI too. Skin picking and hair pulling? Hitting yourself? Yeah he's going koala mode(animal that clings. Not the character) and wrapping himself around you, restraining your limbs. Which unfortunately has a high chance of making the urge worse, if it's compulsion based...

Now, Chopper has heard of this, and read about it, but he hasn't actually seen it in person yet. The first time he sees you doing it, it's shortly after you've joined. He goes to meet with you- every new member gets a check-up just to make sure everything's in working order! He finds you in the aquarium bar, absentmindedly gazing at the fish... but when he calls to you, you turn, and reveal the bloody mess of your hand- nails chewed far past the quick. He freaks out, which probably freaks you out, which attracts the attention of the others, and...

Yeah. That could've gone better. It takes a bit for you two to calm down. There's a chance he might think this is a more standard form of self-harm, and feel guilty because you're so unhappy you'd do this to yourself... when he learns the actual reason, he... still feels pretty guilty for not noticing or considering the possibility sooner. But he's the one who briefs everyone else on the details, possibly even you if you don't know you're autistic or why you do these things. I don't think these types of diagnoses or the terminology surrounding them are well known in the OP universe, so there's a good chance you don't have clue what your own problem is. Either way, everybody knows now.

Chopper lays down the basics. There's the passive SH you don't even notice, reflexive the way scratching an itch or brushing away hair is. Then there's the kind that you do because you're upset or overwhelmed in some way. It's not so simple as just stopping. You need other outlets when you feel the urges start up. He works with you to try and practice healthier grounding and coping strategies, and the others fall in line.

Nami isn't great about it if she sees it before Chopper tells everybody what's up... means well, but scolding you or grabbing you directly does not help the urges go away. She means well, but she's used to the other knuckleheads and their more... deliberate brand of dipshittery. Much more patient once she's been told the details, whether from you or Chopper.

If Nami catches you picking at your skin, it's pretty common for her to hand you a tangerine to peel. It's similar enough to skin, she reasons, it might be a good alternative. And then you can eat it afterward instead of chewing on yourself. It's a two-in-one solution! Both of you fail to consider how easily citrus juice gets inside a hand-wound though... after the first incident, it's a solution for picking at any other body parts. You can hang out in the map room with her for a little bit of peace and quiet, as long as you don't distract her. She might explain some of her work to you if you're interested.

She'll smack around any of the others if they upset/overwhelm you, whether it's actually enough to start up the sh. Her yelling might not help, but it is nice to feel supported... she'll get you jewelry to fidget with instead, and take you clothes shopping for things that don't set off sensory issues(AND look flattering, of course). Her and Robin will paint your nails. The dried polish is another better peeling/picking alternative to skin and hair. Nami adds the prices of the jewelry and nail polish to the debt of whoever accidentally sets you off.

Robin is a little better about it. If you hit yourself, or bang your head against another surface, she'll use her power to summon hands that cushion your blows. If she sees the scratching, hair pulling, etc. she asks you about it- the question usually enough to ground you and realize it's happening, if you aren't already.

She's good at redirecting you. Has you come relax somewhere quieter with her if you're overwhelmed. Works with Nami in regards to the clothes and nail polish, but also has good chapstick recommendations, since chapped lips are a big problem for lots of people with dermatillomania.

A relaxing person to be around in general (unless you're offput by her morbid comments) and is good to talk to. You admit you feel a bit ridiculous having these issues on a crew chock-full of such accomplished individuals. Childish, even. She chuckles, asking how you can say that living on the same boat as Luffy, of all people? You're hardly the only person here with self-destructive habits and it's far from your only defining trait. And though for differing reasons, both her and Brook commiserate with you regarding the loneliness and feelings of isolation a lot of autistic people face. The struggle of not understanding or being understood in turn...

Insists on you joining her and Nami while they relax, on occasion. Makes Sanji dote on you too, if you aren't a woman and he isn't already.

Speaking of Sanji, he's also good at redirecting you. The kitchen is his domain, but if you're in a rut and it'll help keep your hands busy without overwhelming you, he'll give you something to do. Help chop, help peel, here the eggs are done boiling so be a dear and help with the ice bath, won't you? Won't let you chop onions or chilis even if you insist you'll be fine.

And if you're a chewer/biter, he always has some sort of snack to give you. Finds you chewing your knuckles and shoves some Hors d'Oeuvres at you. Takes care to figure out which textures you like vs. can't handle as well. If you're hitting yourself, he sticks some thick oven mitts on your hands. It's not... perfect, by any means, but it's better.

Zoro hears the way you talk about some of it. The feeling of some sort of tense, uncomfortable energy that fills you, and the desperate need to get it out. Tearing at yourself, hitting yourself, banging your head against something to try and alleviate the feeling. He... thinks he sort of gets it, actually. Not in the same way but he gets antsy and weird if he doesn't get to do something active for too long. Is it something like that..? Passively mentions that weight training might help. It's worth a shot, and you're free to come join him if you'd like to try. And you think it over. Maybe the straining of your muscles would provide a similar and healthier form of relief, while also achieving something productive at the same time... so you make your way up to the crow's nest one day, and he's happy to see you there, truly!

But... Zoro has come a long way since he first joined. He knows he's stronger than you, but misjudged just how big the gap was. He walks you through the proper postures and stances for lifting, only for you both to face a bit of a rude awakening...

You can't lift any of his weights... both of you feel a little awkward, to say the least. And you're a bit disheartened. He makes a plan to get a beginner's set for you, but Usopp and/or Franky probably beat him to the punch and build a training set.

Usopp and Franky work together. Or, well, more like they both get the idea to design fidgety little devices for you, and Usopp nervously tells Franky that they probably shouldn't double as armable explosives or mini missile launchers. There should probably be a clearer line drawn between something you absentmindedly fiddle with and a weapon of mass destruction. He nods earnestly. That's a good point, bro... Guess they'll just make em both separately! SUUUPERRRR!!!!!!

If you have hair pulling issues, Usopp suggests some sort of bandana to cover and pull your hair back like his, just as an added barrier between your hands and your scalp. On top of that, he insists on wrapping bandaids on your fingertips to make picking of all sorts much harder, and makes little finger-caps with Franky when the bandaids also interfere with more regular tasks. For hitting, with Chopper's advice, they make padded gloves, vests/coats to wear that help cushion the blows. They make more covert options too, like chest guards that can be worn under normal clothes. They run their drafts by you, making sure they're not uncomfortable to wear.

Franky's "SUUUPEERRRR!!" is just as likely to become a stim as it is to be overwhelming, honestly. He fashions some noise-canceling headphones for you. When Nami learns about these, she wants her own pair, too.

Brook is always ready to help sooth you with music, but sometimes the elegant notes of a violin can become a pitchy whine to you if you're already overstimulated. It just depends on the situation. It can get to him if he accidentally makes things worse for you, but he tries not to take it personally.

But it often does work. If he's not adding to a racket and things have quieted down, sometimes starting up a song will have your hands fall to your sides without you realizing you were hurting yourself in the first place. He's very giddy about it when he pulls this off but tries not to be obvious. Subtlety isn't exactly his thing, though.

He makes a joke from a place of concern- that if you keep tearing at yourself like this, you'll end up a skeleton just like him. If it bothers you, he'll never make a joke like it again. He isn't trying to be cruel, he just likes to deal with things by being silly. If you do like it, and he gets a laugh out of you, it becomes a running gag. "You know, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. But as much as I would enjoy having another skeleton on board, this really isn't good for you..."

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Bonus Chapter Part 1

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Enough people asked for an epilogue that I decided to come back for one more chapter. I have two more scenes after this, but I didn't want this post to be 7,000 words long, so I broke it into 2 parts. I hope you like it!

“For the last time, Parker,” Eliot said through gritted teeth. “I can go to the bathroom by myself.”

“J.B. said I shouldn’t let you walk without your crutch,” Parker said.

Eliot threw a hand toward the door. “I’m going twelve feet. I don’t need a crutch.”

“J.B. says you do.”

“J.B.’s a medic. He has to say that. But I’ve done a lot worse on a damaged leg than walk across a hall, all right? I’ll be fine.”

Parker’s eyes widened. “Did you remember something?”

Damn. He hadn’t meant to bring that up, but it was too late to take it back, and he couldn’t lie to her. The truth was bad, but somehow, to her, a lie would be worse.

Time to change the subject.

“Give me that,” he grumbled, gently jerking the crutch out of her extended hand. He limped to the bathroom, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. It had been three days since the explosion—the latest explosion, anyway—and his patience decreased with every passing hour. Rest, they kept telling him, and he was trying, but he couldn’t just lie in bed all day until J.B. decided he was well enough to be a person again.

He set his hands on the bathroom counter, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. No, that wasn’t the problem—not the whole problem, anyway. If he was going to get through this, he had to be honest with himself. Recovery was irritating, but he’d been through worse, and he did enjoy the quiet moments when Sophie came to sit with him, or when Nate gave him summaries of their previous jobs, or when Hardison worked silently at the desk in his room while he dozed, or when Parker napped curled up at the foot of his bed like a cat.

The problem was the memories.

Most of them came to him in his dreams: fragments of images stitched together with bursts of fear, of anger, of pain. He woke in a panic most nights, hour after hour, not sure if he was in an interrogation cell or a South American jungle or a frozen, lonely cave. 

If the blood he imagined on his hands was his own, or someone else’s.

Hardison and Parker had taken to sleeping on an air mattress beside his bed, and he tried his best not to wake them, but the night before he’d jolted awake in the early hours of the morning to find Hardison tapping on his computer with his back against the bed. He didn’t say anything—didn’t even look Eliot’s way—but he was sure Hardison had heard him.

He’d already put them through so much. He didn’t want to add this burden as well.

Sighing, he turned on the faucet and washed his face in cold water, savoring the sharper sensation against the warmth and comfort he’d been wallowing in. A deep-rooted, unconscious instinct warned him that he couldn’t afford to get soft, that it was dangerous to get complacent, and it chafed at him every time someone told him he should be relaxing. He wanted to—wanted to ease their worries and prove that he was getting better, that he could pull his own weight—but each new memory made him withdraw further into himself, afraid to show his vulnerability.

Eliot ran his left hand through his hair, being careful to avoid the still-healing cut in his scalp. This couldn’t continue. He needed to get a hold of himself, figure out how to process his issues, and move on. He needed to be useful again.

First: a good night’s sleep. He’d tried to be on his feet as much as possible today, hoping to wear himself out before bed, and he was feeling the strain in his muscles. He finished washing up and changed into a new pair of sweatpants and a clean shirt—Hardison had gone to buy him extra clothes, and to replace the ones he’d ruined of Sunny’s—and stumped back to his room.

Parker was already tucked into the space between the air mattress and the bed, submerged beneath a pile of blankets Sunny had crocheted the winter she’d slipped on the ice and broken her foot. “Took up every new hobby I could find to keep myself from goin’ stir crazy,” she’d told Eliot the day before. “I still have my hooks and yarn in the basement if you want to give it a try.”

He wasn’t quite that desperate, but it was getting close.

Carefully, he turned off the light and leaned his crutch against the end of the bed. Maneuvering into it without stepping on Parker was a little tricky, but he managed, letting out a little sigh as his sore muscles relaxed against the mattress.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Parker said, her voice muffled beneath the blankets. “Was it?”

“Why sleep on the floor when you’ve got an air mattress right there?” Eliot countered.

“I don’t like how it dips when Hardison isn’t there.”

Hardison was still downstairs, but he’d be up in a few hours, if the last few nights were any pattern. Whether or not he slept on the air mattress was another matter. He had the first night, but the second, he’d spent as much time at the desk as the mattress. The night before, Eliot wasn’t sure he’d slept at all.

“You sure you’re comfortable?” Eliot asked, peering doubtfully over the side of the bed.

Parker poked her face out of the covers. “Yep. It’s cozy.”

Eliot laid back, closing his eyes against the light from the open door. “You don’t have to go to bed now,” he said. “Everyone else is still awake downstairs. I can handle a few hours on my own.”

“I’m tired,” Parker said.

He considered that. She’d been sleeping almost as much as he had over the last few days, and he had no idea whether that was normal for her. Her voice had been cheerful enough, and there was nothing to make him think she was lying—but he did, suddenly, inexplicably. Or maybe not lying, but... withholding.

Like he was.

“Parker?” he said, quietly, and was rewarded by the sound of her shuffling the blankets again.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

She hesitated just a second too long. “Yeah.”

“Because if you’re not...”

“I am,” she said. “Are you?”

“...Yeah.”

“There you go, then.” She settled back into her burrow of yarn, and he let her. He had no right to force her to talk, and he preferred to leave the offer open rather than keep digging on his own. He wanted to think she’d come to him eventually, if something was bothering her. 

He laid back, resting his right hand on his stomach and folding the other behind his head. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

The hours passed in stretches of restless dozing, punctuated by bursts of wakefulness when the dreams started. They weren’t as disturbing tonight—no faces in his crosshairs, no bones breaking under his hands—but several times he woke and had to check to make see which injuries he still had and which had healed long ago. Hardison came in sometime after the fourth nightmare, and he sat with his back to the desk and the glow of his laptop lighting his face as he worked on who knew what. Eliot rolled to his side, then his stomach, then his back again, finding he slept better when the faint computer light touched his eyelids. Hardison hummed a few times, the melody low and soothing, and Eliot found himself listening for it each time he woke. 

He’d just faded off to a wordless rendition of “Imagine” when a sharp cry ripped him awake. He shot upright, swinging his legs for the side of the bed before he remembered his healing gunshot wound, and pain knifed up his thigh and down to his foot. He froze on the edge of the mattress, hissing in a breath through his teeth, listening.

“Parker,” Hardison said softly. “Parker, look at me.”

Eliot blinked in the laptop light until he could make out the shape of Hardison kneeling on the air mattress. Parker was still bundled under her blankets, and the whole pile trembled as she shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, breathless. “I’m sorry, Eliot. Go back to sleep.”

Eliot relaxed his grip on the bed, breathing out through his nose to soothe the pain still pinching his leg. “What happened?”

“Nothing—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

A frown pulled at his eyebrows. Already regretting the movement, he slid to the end of the bed and eased over the side, settling onto the air mattress as carefully as he could without showing how much he hurt. Parker was still buried in her blankets between the air mattress and the bed, but she lifted her head when Eliot sat beside her.

“Move,” he said, pushing her gently with one hand.

She did, shuffling her entire crocheted mountain out of the way so Eliot could push the mattress against the bed. Then he sat, clenching his teeth together to hold in his pain as he bent his right leg, and patted the space beside him.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” he said, without preamble, without emotion. “Memories. Some of them are—a lot. It’s all a lot. I wake up sometimes and don’t know where I am.”

Somewhere under the blankets, Parker sat in the space he’d indicated and drew up her knees, wrapping her arms around them. Hardison, still crouched on the ground beside her, settled on her other side. “I’ve been afraid to sleep,” he admitted softly. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up back at the hotel, after we talked to the medical examiner. If I wake up and you’re not there...” He cleared his throat and tipped his head back against the bed. “So I’ve been coming in here and working on stuff, just... keeping an eye on you. Making sure you’re still here.” He tilted his head to look at Eliot and flashed a wan smile. “Is that creepy?”

“Yes,” Eliot deadpanned, and Hardison’s smile got wider.

Parker leaned forward to put her chin on her arms. “I know they’re just dreams. I don’t need you to tell me it’s not real.”

“It is real,” Eliot said, his voice low. He didn’t look at her, but when he saw her turning toward him in his peripherals, he leaned his shoulder against hers. “Whatever you dreamed about might not be real, but the feelings are. You still have to deal with them.”

She pulled a blanket tighter around her back. “How?”

He shrugged, his shoulder lifting hers. “Dunno. ‘M still working on it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hardison asked.

Eliot turned, not sure if the offer was for him or Parker. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to open up the wounds he was still trying to understand himself, but he could hardly encourage Parker to share her problems if he wasn’t willing to do the same. All he had to bargain with was himself, but if the last few days were any indication… that was all she wanted.

He opened his mouth, but Parker shifted against his arm and let out a long, loud sigh. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she said. “I want to go back to just feeling happy when I’m with you, instead of being afraid something will take you away. Is that... will that ever go away?”

He looked over her head at Hardison, who reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Come here, girl,” he said, but pressed himself closer instead of pulling her toward him. “This all... this is a wound. Fresh. Bleeding, still.” His eyes were on Eliot, and he lifted the hand on Parker’s shoulder to touch Eliot’s as he went on. “It’s gonna hurt for a while. All we can do is keep it covered while it heals.”

“Covered with what?” Parker asked.

“New memories,” Hardison said. “Good ones. Ones to go over the hurt, until it doesn’t hurt so much.”

Eliot closed his eyes. Most of his memories were new, right now, so he had the benefit of extra perspective. And as much as he appreciated—and agreed with—Hardison’s suggestion, he wondered if maybe something familiar might work just as well.

“I remember meeting you,” Eliot said. He kept his eyes closed, but he could feel their gazes on his face. “That first job we all did. I remember... Nate set up the meeting, and I thought... I was... curious. I wanted to know what you two could offer that I couldn’t do on my own.”

“You mean besides your nonexistent computer skills?” Hardison asked.

Eliot let out a huff of laughter. “The geek stuff, yeah. The thieving. But Nate was right, about us being able to do more together. About being better together.” He tilted his head and opened his eyes. “It isn’t just during jobs.”

Parker bumped her arm against his. She didn’t say anything, but he could hear her meaning as clearly as if she’d spoken out loud, as clearly as he’d heard her when he’d thought she was gone.

He pressed against her, passing the message back and knowing she’d understand just as easily.

He woke an hour later, still sitting on the air mattress, with Parker’s head on his shoulder and Hardison lying across their feet. His back ached from the awkward position, but Parker and Hardison were breathing softly, and he wasn’t about to risk waking them just to get more comfortable. With a sigh, he stretched out his neck, settled his cheek against Parker’s hair, and went back to sleep.

***

It was pain that pulled him out of sleep this time; he’d slept almost dreamlessly for the first time in a week, and he felt rested even as he registered how early it must be. The sky outside his window was dark, and Hardison was still snoring on the air mattress. Parker was curled around his head, her face relaxed in sleep, and something warm and fond worked its way through Eliot’s chest. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t had any nightmares either.

It seemed they were all healing.

Eliot rolled to the edge of the bed, careful not to step on the air mattress as he stood and crept from the room. His crutch leaned against the wall beside the door, and he was sore enough to use it as he made his way into the hall. The house was quiet, but he didn’t want to lie in bed any longer. His hands itched to do something productive, something other than resting and recovering and talking about his feelings.

Slowly, keeping near the wall and avoiding the squeaky spots he’d learned over the last week, Eliot eased down the stairs and limped into the kitchen. Sunny had left the light over the sink on, and it was plenty bright enough to find a wash cloth and soap. He started with the obvious surfaces—the table, counters, stove—but Sunny kept a clean kitchen, and only ten minutes had passed by the time he finished. A tougher job, then. He moved on to the oven, pulling out the racks, scrubbing off the baked-on messes, the grease stains, the spills. That took a while longer, and by the time he finished, it was after 6.

Eliot brushed his hair out of his face and surveyed the kitchen. Cleaning was numbing, methodical, almost compulsory—but it wasn’t enough. He needed to fix something, build something... create something.

He looked down at his unbandaged hand. Old scars covered the knuckles, and he could see the evidence of poorly healed breaks in some of the fingers. They were tools of violence. What could he make with such hands?

Teach me to like stuff.

Eliot’s fingers twitched. Parker’s voice preceded the full memory, echoing in his head the way he’d come to hope for, to rely on, and he let it play through his mind as he stared at the scars on his hand.

He pushed a plate toward her, but she looked up at him and shook her head. “It’s just food.”

“It’s not just food, all right? Some people could look at it and see just food, but not me. I see art. When I’m in the kitchen, I’m—I’m creating something out of nothing.”

He opened his eyes. There was no recipe, but he’d done this before, hadn’t he? Hardison had said he could cook. If his body could remember how to destroy, couldn’t it remember how to make?

A quick search of the kitchen yielded a few promising results—flour, sugar, eggs—and he found a mixing bowl and spoon in the cupboards and drawers. The measurements came to him as he worked: 2 cups of flour, 1/2 cup of sugar, 2 1/2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt. He mixed them with eggs and butter and vanilla extract, and then, when he couldn’t find any heavy cream in the refrigerator, made a buttermilk substitute from milk and vinegar. The steady motion of mixing felt familiar, even with his left hand, and he let himself fall into the rhythm as his mind drifted back through his newly recovered memories.

“What are you doing?”

Eliot flinched. He registered the voice as Miguel’s half a second after he reacted, which was half a second too late. He took a moment to compose his expression before he turned, hoping his face didn’t look as red as it felt. “Cooking.”

Miguel stood in the doorway, and the quirk of his lips said he’d noticed Eliot’s response. “Why?”

“You don’t eat?” Eliot said, making a vague gesture with his spoon.

Miguel’s face twitched, and Eliot got the impression he was repressing a smile. “Why are you cooking so early?”

“I was up.”

Miguel moved to the counter beside him and took the empty pot from the coffee maker. “I guess that thing about 90 minutes was true, then. Hate to see what you could do when you’re fully rested.”

“Didn’t figure you’d want to see me at all after this,” Eliot said.

“Hmm.” Miguel glanced at the brace on his wrist and then back to the coffee pot. “I don’t. But I think maybe Sunny wouldn’t mind if you came to visit.”

“Not sure I’ll be going anywhere for a few days yet,” Eliot muttered. He spread some flour on a cutting board and pressed the dough over it, shaping it into a rough circle. Miguel watched him, filling the pot at the sink and scooping coffee grounds into the filter. When the coffee maker started bubbling, he leaned his back against the counter and nodded at the mixing bowl.

“What are you making?”

Eliot made a cut through the middle of his dough and answered without looking up. “Scones.”

“Where’d you learn to make those?”

The question was innocent, just casual conversation, and Eliot was relieved to feel nothing worse than impatience when he didn’t have an answer. He fell back on J.B.’s line: “Picked it up a ways back.”

Miguel snorted. “You two should put that on t-shirts.”

When the coffee was finished, Miguel poured two cups and set one on Eliot’s left side, then took a sugar bowl out of the cupboard and poured some milk into a creamer. “I have been here a while,” he said at last, dumping sugar into his mug without looking at Eliot. “The others come and go. Sunny helps the ones she can, the ones who can’t make it at the shelters. You notice patterns, after a while.”

Eliot set his scones on a baking sheet, listening with his eyes on his work.

“Some of them end up here when they’re between things,” Miguel went on. “Like J.B. He’ll move on once his job is done, and that will be that. And then others… some of them just make bad choices.”

“That you?” Eliot asked.

Miguel flashed him a grin. “I’ve been told I have trouble with authority. I don’t think that’s true. I have trouble with people who think they’re better than others. Sunny... she doesn’t think that way. She doesn’t care where you come from, what you did, long as you do what you can to help out.”

“You been with her long?”

Miguel took a drink, finally turning to look at Eliot while he spoke. “On and off since I was a kid. She never turned me away, no matter what I did. Always welcomed me back, put me to work fixing something—the railing, or the sink, or whatever. Sometimes I think she broke stuff just to give me something to fix. Something good to do, instead of whatever trouble I got myself into.” He shot a shrewd look at Eliot as he opened the oven door and slid the scones inside. “With that money your friends helped her find, she won’t have to worry about that no more. She’ll be able to help a lot of people.”

“And you?” Eliot asked, straightening carefully to keep his weight on his left leg.

Now that he’d unleashed it, Miguel’s smile was quick and genuine. “Who knows? I suppose I’ll keep busy.”

“Sunny will need some help herself,” Eliot said, keeping his voice casual. “A lot of people will want a piece of what she’s got now.”

“They’ll have to go through me.”

Eliot grinned and picked up the coffee Miguel had poured him. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

They were silent then, drinking their coffee and enjoying the smell of the baking scones. Eliot limped over to the little table after a while so he could sit, and Miguel waved him down when the timer went off and pulled the scones out of the oven himself. “Some of those people Sunny helps,” Miguel said, tossing the dish towel he’d used as an oven mitt onto the counter. “They come to her when they’re lost. Sunny has a way of orienting people, putting their problems in perspective.”

“She did for me,” Eliot said, meeting Miguel’s gaze across the table. “And I won’t forget it.”

Miguel picked a hot scone off the stove and blew on it. “You better not. She seems to like you, for some reason.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Eliot said.

Miguel grinned. “She likes me, too.”

“Like I said.”

With a short laugh, Miguel took another scone and sauntered out of the kitchen. “You better make more,” he said over his shoulder. “I like a big breakfast.”

Eliot drained his coffee, got up, and started another batch.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some fantasy traveler inventory details (like what they would carry in their bags), based on two of the recent costumes I did.. love finding random little scraps and items and putting them together lol

[hoidn]

How it started   |   How it's going

La Casa de Papel 1x02 | 3x02

[robo-dino-puppies]

you and Mr. Fell don't ever talk to each other-

-you never say what you're really thinking.

[ikiracake]

None of y'all are safe

(Thank you to @whatjanesays for the png)

[thatgirl4815]

Saw someone do this on Twitter for the trailer, so I counted the number of scenes per couple in the OST video:

RaySand: 8

TopMew: 6

BostonNick: 5

(I'm excluding all the cuts of RaySand singing in the car since that's basically continuous and likely won't be included in the show itself.)

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[thesimplicityofchance]

I really wanna gather and write about how our perception of robots and how humans intermingle with them has changed so much over the years. But I wanna do it specifically through the scope of movies and shows where we see it and how it slowly delvoped. Because even as late as the 1960s we had shows and movies with people falling for robots or being tricked into loving robots. And the way it is handled and those relationships are viewed is so uniquely interesting to me. I am curious as well if it was these instances that really helped shape people's minds about acceptance of robots as a sentient functioning life more so than a machine meant as a distraction. It's mainly in sci-fi and horror that we see it early on too, which is even more intriguing.

[smalltimidbean]

I can not be the only one wondering what a Maurice clone would look like.

Fake Maurice?? Maurice clone?? Idk what it would be called tbh-

Interesting idea, but I am probably not gonna make a Fake Maurice, I'm afraid!

There is no reason in my canon for him to be cloned, nor would he have been around to get cloned - I also don't want to do a hypothetical, bc I will get attached and want to keep him dfglkjdfsg

Also, arguably speaking, he is already kinda is a clone himself, considering he is just a Peppino palette swap with longer hair kjdfgkj

[majaboogeh]

i've been up for twenty minutes and out of the three april fool's jokes i've seen so far this is the only funny one

[pibsboots]

I've always had chronic fatigue. I remember being twelve, and an adult mentioned how I couldn't possibly know how tired they felt because adulthood brought levels of exhaustion I couldn't imagine. I thought about that for days in fear, because I couldn't remember the last time I didn't feel tired.

Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was just tired, and I couldn't do as many things as everyone else. People called me lazy, and I knew that wasn't true, but there's only so many times you can say "I'm tired" before people think it's an excuse. I don't blame them. When a teenager does 20 hours of extracurriculars every week and only says "I'm too tired" when you ask them to do the dishes, it's natural to think it's an excuse. At some point, I started to think the same thing.

It didn't matter that I could barely sit up. It was probably all in my head, and if I really wanted to, I could do it.

When I learned the name for it, chronic fatigue, I thought wow, people that have that must be miserable, because I am always tired and I cannot imagine what it would feel like if it were worse.

Spoiler alert, if you've been tired for a decade, it's probably chronic fatigue.

Once I figured that out though, I thought of my energy as the same as everyone else's, just smaller in quantity. And that might be true for some people, but I've figured out recently that it absolutely isn't true for me.

I used to be like wow I have so much energy today I can do this whole list for sure! And then I'd do the dishes and have to lay down for 2 hours. Then I'd think I must gave misjudged that, I didn't have as much energy as I thought.

But the thing is - I did have enough energy for more tasks, I just didn't go about them properly.

With chronic fatigue, your maximum energy is obviously much smaller than the average person's. Doing the dishes for you might use up the same percentage of energy that it takes to do all the daily chores for someone else.

If someone without chronic fatigue was to do all the daily chores, they would take breaks. Because otherwise, they're sprinting a marathon for no reason and it would take way more energy than necessary. We have to do the same.

Put the cups in the dishwasher, take a break. Put the bowls in, take a break. So on and so forth. This may mean taking breaks every 2-5 minutes but afterwards, you get to not feel like you've run a marathon while carrying 4 people on your back.

Today, I had a moderate amount of energy. Under my old system of go till you drop, I probably could have done most of the dishes and wiped off the counter and then been dead to the world for the rest of the day.

Under the new system, I scooped litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, took the trash out, cleaned the stove, and wiped off the counter and did all the dishes. And after all that, I still had it in me to make a simple dinner, unload the dishwasher, and tidy the kitchen.

It was complete and utter insanity. Just because I sat down whenever I felt myself getting more tired than I already was.

All this to say, take fucking breaks. It's time to unlearn the ceaseless productivity bullshit that capitalism has shoved down our throats. Its actively counterproductive. Just sit down. Drink some water. Rest your body when it needs to rest.

There will still be days where there is nothing to do but rest, and days where half a load of dishes is absolutely the most I can do. But this method has really helped me minimize those, which is so incredibly relieving.