#image mood: I will cause problems on purpose

[reactionimagesdaily]

[urinarythreatinfection]

Since Halloween is just around the corner how would the straw hat crew react if reader dressed up as one of them for Halloween? (It could be Luffy or whatever straw hat crew member you think would be best?😅)

This was fun to make even if I kept getting stuck on it due to a bad mood. Also I couldn't decide on who so I asked an elder (my older brother) and he chose the swirly browed cook himself! Enjoy!

Fun(ny) Halloween

Sanji x Gender Neutral Reader. 1496 words. Platonic and co-starring the rest of the Strawhat crew.

October, a month of fall and most importantly, Halloween. There’s a problem though… you don’t know what to go as. You could pick a classic, vampire, mummy, some sort of animal or devil, but that’s boring. You want something cool but scary, easy to do would be a plus too. While thinking of this you’re suddenly jumpscared by Sanji bursting out of the kitchen onto the deck with food.

“Robin-chann!! I made the tea you asked for~~~~” He spins around and sets it down in front of her, swooning when she smiles at him with an elegant “Thank you.” Your hand goes to your heart, he’s always so passionate it’s startling.

‘Startling…’ An idea pops into your mind and you look at Sanji, he’s really just wearing a suit, right? It's mostly likely uncomfortable, but a regular suit is an easy thing to get! This is perfect, plans starting to form in your head as the day goes on. As soon as the Sunny docks at an island you run off, saying you have something to do that’s a surprise. Eyebrows you can just draw on, a blonde wig is easy to get too even if you have to style it a bit, now to get a suit. You walk into the store and look around, grabbing one and checking the price tag. Expensive! Sanji has good taste too so an accurate one to him would be even more than this… well it isn’t like you’re going to become him, you don’t need anything fancy. You get whatever suit is close enough to his and a regular dress shirt. For a tie, you could bribe Nami to borrow one from him. Perfect plan, you’re a genius. When you get back to the ship you borrow sewing tools from Usopp and a straightener from Robin since Nami would have charged you. Things are easy enough from there, adjusting the suit slightly to fit your body and cutting the wig. It isn’t… the best. Sanji is very well maintained, and you’re making this really late, but it’s enough to be recognizable as him.

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October, the month of- hell yeah it’s Halloween! You excitedly grab your costume, putting it on and making some final touches to look nice. You do look nice in a suit, almost everyone does, but this is a bit of a hassle. “How does he just wear this all the time?” You mumble to yourself while putting it on. Now that you think about it, having a full suit on is the most peculiar for a pirate to wear. No matter, this’ll only be for a day anyway. Only thing left is to go show everyone.

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“That’s your costume? Seriously? A mummy?” Nami, in a sexy farmer costume, says to Zoro. He’s just wearing bear ears and bandages on his face. “That’s the same as last year!”

“I’m a bear mummy this time, don’t you have eyes?” He points to the bear ears and Nami gives him a look of disgust. “You relaxing your face or something? Look a lot better like this.” Nami’s expression turns back to normal and Zoro flinches on purpose, causing her to kick him in the shin angrily. Chopper, who's dressed as a little ghost complete with a tenkan headband over the white sheet and black painted horns, runs around trying to catch a mechanical bee Usopp’s piloting. The sniper’s dressed as a beekeeper, but with actual mechanical bees in the hive on his back. He’s matching with Franky dressed as the queen, or king, bee. When Chopper catches it he strikes a pose and gives a “SUPER!!”

“Robin-Chwannn~ You look beautiful even in your costume.” Sanji swoons over Robin in her spider woman costume. No, not the superhero, an actual spider woman, she even grew arms on her back to keep the image. Brook goes to her as well, dressed as a magician.

“Yohoho~ Here’s my magic trick for two beautiful women.” He pulls two roses from his afro and gives one to her, then to Nami.

“You just pulled roses from your hair…” Usopp mumbles.

“Awee that was actually kinda sweet.” Nami admires the rose.

“Free of charge, though I do take panties as dona-” He gets hit on the head. Jinbe isn’t quite used to this sort of thing, but has learned his lesson about Nami already and chooses to silently sip his tea in his zombie costume courtesy of you and Luffy. Suddenly you walk out from inside the ship and Luffy, dressed as.. a pirate captain with a hook, notices you from his spot on the railing above.

“Huh? Sanji?” That brings attention to you, especially Sanji who turns around expecting for Luffy to ask him for food; instead seeing you dressed at him. He freezes with his mouth open, stopped in his tracks before he could yell at his captain that he was fed not too long ago.

“Oh. my. gods.” Nami stares at you and then bursts out laughing with Usopp. “Is this why you asked me to get a tie from h-him!?” She holds her stomach, bending down slightly as she laughs. You walk over to her.

“Well? Was it worth the investment, mademoiselle?” You say to her and she covers her mouth to muffle more laughing.

“Another shitty cook, this is a nightmare.” Zoro says in the background, which seems to snap Sanji out of it.

“Shut up, Mosshead!" They start to fight, the cook kicking down at Zoro as he blocks with his swords. Luffy keeps staring between you and Sanji.

“Wait, how are there two Sanjis?” He’s confused.

“One is clearly not me! How is this not obvious to you!?” The blonde points to himself, then motions to his whole body. Luffy stares at his face, then at yours. The both of you have swirly eyebrows.

“You have a twin? When did they get on the ship?” Sanji falls to his knees at Luffy’s obliviousness. “Which one of you is Sanji?”

“I’m Sanji.” You say with a charismatic smile, putting your hand on your face and flicking your hair.

“Ohhh okay.” Luffy nods.

“Don’t just believe them!” The real Sanji yells.

“I’m gonna pass out…!” Usopp clutches his chest, getting lightheaded from laughing too hard. Sanji looks at everyone laughing and gets a little bummed, you walk over to him.

“Well? How do I look? I actually worked pretty hard on this, though I don’t look as cool as you.” Sanji’s ears perk up from your compliment.

“Cool?” He pries for more of them.

“Yeah, you always look really put together. This helped me realize how tiring it must be to almost always have a suit on. It kinda makes me admire you.” His eyes twinkle and he smiles, trying to keep it calm and charismatic rather than overly happy.

“Hmm, I guess that’s true.” Nami mumbles to herself while trying to imagine having to wear a suit all the time. Sanji catches it immediately; but so do you. Right as he runs to her you follow suit and copy his swooning.

“Nami-Swann~! You really think so~~!!?” He finishes his statement and turns to you, shock on his face. Nami shivers a little.

“Yikes. Maybe the costume is more scary than funny.” She says and Zoro nods.

“Sorry, your behavior is kind of predictable.” You admit to Sanji, who’s feeling conflicted between liking that his love for women is known and being ashamed that he’s this predictable. Chopper puts a hoof on his leg for comfort, but he’s shaking slightly from also trying not to laugh. The cook turns to Robin right as you do.

“Robin-channnn do you think i’m pre-” He stops and so do you, then falls to his knees again. Robin can’t help it and tries to turn her head and muffle a small laugh with her hand, though it’s still heard. Luffy, who started laughing too, stretches down from where he was hanging and onto Franky.

“Sanji and Sanji, do it again!” He cheers for an encore, raising his arms up. It doesn’t make Swirly Brow feel much better.

“You’re still a better cook than me. I can’t copy your talents.” You crouch down to Sanji’s level but he looks away, pouting and upset that he’s the butt of the joke. “Y’know I wouldn’t have put this much effort into the costume if I was ashamed of you.” You stand back up and strike a pose. “So why don’t you teach me some tricks so I can make this more accurate?” This seems to cheer him up and he stands, looking around. Well, these are his friends, and it’s not like it’s unfunny.

“Well,” He clears his throat. “your hair isn’t parted correctly.” His hands go to your wig and smooth it out as you smile back. If the people he cares for are happy, so is he.

“I think they look better.” Zoro states and Sanji attacks him. Zoro is the exception.

[manicpixiefelix]

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

2/2: think about me while you do it [SMUT]

{ masterpost : 2/2 }

Summary: In which Oliver puts you in your place, and makes you beg to be there.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, dehumanising language and overall incredibly degrading talk, BDSM, leashes, dacryphilia(crying), reader being treated like a dog, bondage & restraints, creampie, so much begging, sir kink, oliver having the time of his life as a manipulative dom, pet name used for the reader "princess" and being referred to as "good girl"

A/N: 7434 words. never ever as long as i live will i ever write this pairing (farleigh/brat!reader/oliver) again, and not only can you quote me on that, but you can take it to the fucking bank. that being said, i did genuinely LOVE writing this, i think they're dynamic is so incredibly fun to explore, and honestly there's something hot about the mind games they all play on each other. it's just that it takes FUCKING FOREVER for them to do anything because they all hate each other. well, you and farleigh hate oliver and he hates both of you, but you also like to cause problems on purpose which pisses them both off. i love it. i never want to write them again. 10/10 LETS GET WEIRD WITH IT i would love to know what you guys think about this all :) oh also we definitely get heavy on the farleigh/oliver in this as well

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Farleigh has always had these long, delicate fingers that Oliver's been fascinated by since they'd met, since he'd grabbed his thigh - so achingly briefly - in their tutor's office and levelled a grin that surely read as apologetic to the professor for running late, but turned so immediately dismissive the minute his gaze flicked to Oliver himself. For so long as Oliver wormed his way into Felix's life, into his circle of friends, that's all Farleigh had been; dismissive looks and long, enticing fingers poised with cigarettes and disdain like he was a model for Marlboro.

But the coldness in Farleigh's eyes turned warmer, especially over the Summer at Saltburn, and Oliver couldn't deny the heat of his frustration didn't have some kind of want pitting in his stomach. Anger and lust have never truly been strangers, at least not if he was judging by the way Farleigh had been looking at him tonight.

Now, Farleigh was looking at you with that heat in his eyes, looking at your parted lips and breathless smile like he wanted to devour you whole after so readily giving in to Oliver's degradation. Then he's watching the gentle way Oliver caresses your face in the moments that follow, and that heat too turns degrading.

"You really have no self respect," he scoffs; the mood shifts sharply to the left. There's that look in your eyes again like you're on the verge of causing more trouble.

"He said I had no manners!" You protested as Farleigh moved back from you, "my etiquette teacher would be rolling in her grave if she heard that!"

"Etiquette teachers aren't a real thing, are they?" Oliver, genuinely baffled enough to be pulled out of his earlier mood, automatically shuffles back as Farleigh gently pushes you over. You land on your stomach with a humph, hands still trapped at the small of your back, though now Oliver can see the skilled, tight way his belt was binding them. It conjures up images of expensive leather contraptions, restraints, and you on display, desperate for a hungry-eyed academic like Farleigh who'd actually put in the work to study how to best tame a beast like you.

"Do you think she ever stops to think why we call her a princess?" Farleigh scoffs in a brief moment of solidarity as he reclines on the bed. Oliver actually, genuinely laughs at that, much to your chagrin, at least until Farleigh's hand, those beautiful fingers, pushing down the waistband of his own boxers to finally give his cock some sorely needed attention. "Don't think your manners are the most scandalous thing you've been a part of tonight," he adds, turning his head to you with a deliciously sly smile, "your etiquette teacher know you beg like that?"

Oliver had caught sight of the way you were pouting, legs kicking ineffectually against the end of the bed considering how you were trapped in your position, like a little worm. You turned your head to face Farleigh with that same sulky expression, like all three of you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"My arms hurt," is all the response you give.

"Good," Oliver hadn't meant to say that out loud, nor had he entirely realised how fucking pleased he'd sounded as he'd said it, but it had seemingly escaped him nonetheless. His focus had been caught on the lazy rhythm Farleigh had been using to keep himself hard, but he still found himself enjoying the sound of your complaints, it seemed.

And your reactions to him; the way your fingers curled, the shiver he could see run down the length of your spine, and how quickly you had to press your face into the mattress, most likely embarrassed by whatever Farleigh would have seen in your expression. It seemed Farleigh himself wasn't even immune, cock momentarily twitching in his hand before Oliver realised how long he'd been staring, and that Farleigh's bright yet smug expression had meant he'd definitely noticed.

"You are taking to this remarkably fast," Farleigh sounds almost pleased, almost proud. You tell him to shut the fuck up, face still pressed against the duvet, but can't kick anyone from this angle, much to his ongoing amusement.

Surfacing, but still rather flustered, you announce sharply that you're not touching either of them until you can use your hands again. Oliver remarks that that's the point, and there's a part of him that's far too pleased about how it makes Farleigh laugh too. Of course this sets you off - he should have known - but it's easy enough for Oliver, sitting on his knees beside you on the bed, to keep you from sitting up too far once you've managed to roll over onto your back.

He knows he's different in this light, leaning over you, everything awash with the blue and silver of the night. For just a moment, it's as if you know you're helpless, his hand flat and warm on your chest, on your sternum, and you can see it in his eyes that he thinks you're helpless beneath him too. The chain around his neck hangs like the sword of Damocles above your own throat, and with the blue, searching, hungry eyes of a man who remembers every last cruel remark you'd tossed at him in the past week.

"Can I at least get some water?" You break the moment, and Oliver almost has to laugh, "it's not funny, I'm thirsty and for some reason," you pointedly rolled your eyes, words dripping with sarcasm, attempting to regain some of the composure you liked to carry yourself with, "I can't move my arms."

"Of course, your highness," Oliver briefly acquiesces, lips twitching into a smile as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom, hoping their was some kind of cup in their. Re-joining the room, he finds Farleigh to be amused, and you to still be on your back, annoyed -

"- not kidding, I'm not doing anything with either of you if you don't take this belt off of my damn hands," you were still insisting. Farleigh just grinned.

"Yeah, Miss Green-Light-Princess, we'll see about that."

Considering how your expression scrunched up to something almost flustered, and you didn't have any kind of comeback, it was safe to say you were still on board, just as Farleigh was delighted to call you out on it. Oliver reintegrates himself, sits himself on the edge of the bed and wears a little smile even as you call him your hero with more bitter sarcasm than he's ever heard from anyone in his life.

"Sit up," so gentle, so opposite of the ways he's been speaking to you just before he'd left; Farleigh is regarding him curiously, but you just roll your eyes. Now that Oliver knew inside and out - pun entirely intended - you were deliciously predictable. Easy to lull into a false sense of superiority.

"I can't."

"Roll over," the sweetness is quickly disappearing. For a brief moment, Farleigh's gaze meet's Oliver's, and he knows exactly what Oliver's doing, even if you haven't clued in. There's a spark of devilish glee that they share in this moment, but Oliver can't let it show on his face.

"What?"

"Roll over, I'll help," Oliver's smile doesn't reach his eyes, but you dubiously agree. Perhaps you think he'll undo the restraints around your wrists. Of course he won't, you should know better than that.

With you obediently on your stomach, Oliver puts the water on the nightstand. One hand goes to your shoulder, the other holds your shoulder.

"Now princess," he murmurs low in your ear, tone oozing condescension, "sit," like ordering a dog when he pulls you upright; you don't even fully notice at first, the pressure from the angle that he pulls your arms makes them ache once more, but then you're sitting up on your knees, and Oliver's lips are inches from yours, leaning into your space with intent, "stay," and you go quiet.

There is fury when he looks in your eyes; your jaw twitches as you bite down on a hundred different retorts. There's something intoxicating about you, the way everything you do in these moments is a war between your cruel nature and your hedonistic desires. You want to kick him, you want him to spit in your mouth, you want to ruin him, you want him to ruin you. All of it is written in your eyes.

You have spent all week treating Oliver Quick like nothing more than a dog; you hate that it turns you on when he returns the favour.

Farleigh is eating this interaction up, watching like a hunter who lay in wait for his prey, content with how Oliver so skilfully toyed with you -

"There's a leash in the bottom draw of the night stand -"

"Farleigh Start, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands when I get them back," you hissed, but Farleigh's comment had piqued Oliver's curiosity. Before you could even look back to give Farleigh a withering glare, Oliver's hand found your throat. Thumb and fingers against your delicate pulse points, not yet cutting off the blood flow, but right where they needed to be.

Ironically it's Farleigh's voice in the back of his mind, a night out at the pub where it had just been mostly guys, and somehow the topic of their sex lives came up. It had been Farleigh who had rolled his eyes and explained - it's here, idiot - reaching over to demonstrate on Felix himself - it's cutting off the blood flow that makes their head spin, not actually choking them to death. Gorgeous fingers momentarily placed on his cousin's throat, Oliver had memorised the placement. Considering what he now knew of Farleigh's relationship with you, he didn't need to guess why he was so sure back in the pub.

"Didn't say speak."

"I'd kick you if I could," your lip curled, even as his grip on your throat tightened. That fire in your eyes was betrayed by the way your heartbeat practically danced beneath his fingertips, "give me my water, I wasn't kidding about that."

There's a long, tense moment where Oliver deliberates. Then, very slowly, he lets you go, and turns, reaching over to the night stand. Out of the corner of his eye there's a very sudden flurry of movement, and of Farleigh moving unexpectedly fast. The water actually shakes with it, spills and splashes several drops onto his thighs, cold in the humid room, before he turns to see the tableaux of attempted rebellion. Farleigh looks still amused, but rather exasperated, like he expected as much, expected to have his hand in your mouth, your teeth in his palm, other hand digging nails into your shoulder as he attempted to hold you back.

"It's like you forgot, Ollie," Farleigh says with a mean little smile, "my dog's the kind that bites," still he plays along, the words coming out lazily despite how he seems to actually have to work to pull his hand from your mouth. Your anger at being thwarted seemed to simmer just beneath your skin; this smile you now wear is laced with malice that hadn't been there before.

"Just having some fun," you practically spat, with both of Farleigh's hands now on your shoulders, holding you in place. This malevolence is it's own kind of fun; your desire to hurt, to wound, to sink your teeth in like a cornered animal betrays you to Oliver. Your pride is starting to win over your desire; your capacity for cruelty is overcoming your desire to be put in your place. Perhaps it was getting to real, perhaps you remembered how much better you supposed you were than Oliver himself. This is exactly how he wants you.

Princess. Collared.

Taking a deep, deliberate breath, Oliver levels a flat, unimpressed look at you. Both you and Farleigh are waiting, watching, letting him lead in this moment, and he does. Water in one hand, he carefully reaches down to the bottom drawer of the nightstand - when you move, the bed moves with you, but Farleigh's grip on you never yields, never lets you lunge at Oliver the way you keep trying. The collar is sleep and simple, padded on the inside, with a leash to match. It even has a little bell, and an engraved tag.

Bitch.

Oliver chuckles a laugh as he reads it, he can't help himself.

"Farleigh thinks he's very funny," you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what Oliver had found so amusing. Farleigh does look particularly pleased with himself over your shoulder.

"It was true when I got it engraved and it's still true now."

But Oliver's moving on again, asking Farleigh to hold the glass of water for him as he fiddles with the collar. He is quiet, intense, arms around your neck as he takes his time doing up the collar; his face is so close to yours, sharing your furious, shaking breathes.

"How is our princess feeling?" Oliver takes the moment to check in, genuine, though it seems to irritate you further, "green light?"

"Do not flatter yourself into thinking I am yet speechless," you spit, "if I truly thought you offered me nothing, and wanted nothing more from you, I am more than capable of making that abundantly clear." You were endlessly fascinating to Oliver; you wanted to maim him, but you wanted him nonetheless. He tightens the collar around your neck. Farleigh still has one hand on your shoulder; his thumb comes to press against the edge of the collar, against your skin meeting the leather as he makes a pleased hum. "Green fucking light, scholarship boy," you give a mocking little smile to Oliver, the bitterness never leaving your eyes.

"Good -" the moment Oliver has latched the collar, has the leash curled at the back of your neck around his fist, you strain forward against it. The bell rings with the movement, a delicate sound for an indelicate moment -

"But I am warning you," forehead pressed against Oliver's, you're straining for any inch, any millimetre more you could get from his unyielding grip on your leash, you practically snarl against his lips with venomous hatred, "about what you will get when you treat me like a dog." Yet Oliver makes sure to remain impassive, perhaps even a little amused, in the face of your threats.

"If I can't make you bark like a good girl, princess," Oliver murmurs, catching your lips in a kiss even as you try to bite him, pulling back with a cold smile, "then I'm going to make you beg."

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Farleigh's voice purrs in your ear, and some of the viciousness about you eases. You sit back, back out of Oliver's space, and watch as Farleigh hands the water back to Oliver's waiting hands, trading him for the leash.

"For you," there's contempt in your eyes as you watch Oliver while addressing Farleigh, "I'll think about it."

Oliver's gaze meet's Farleigh's as he presses his laughter to your shoulder; something in his eyes almost says, well, good luck, I tried. Like Oliver isn't revelling in this chance you've laid before him; like he doesn't know how quickly your body betrays you at every single opportunity.

"If you want some water, you have to ask nicely," Oliver offers. A pause follows, and he watches you change tact.

You relax, letting the fight leave you, pressing yourself back against Farleigh as much as you could. Feeling his face so close to yours you turn, practically nuzzling against him.

"Even if I'm nice, he's going to be mean about it," your voice comes out so sweetly, so transparently manipulatively, "I just want a drink of water, you wouldn't make me beg for a drink of water, Farleigh," you insist, voice plaintive, all doe-eyed and pouting and not looking at Oliver.

"I can and I have and you didn't complain this much," Farleigh saw fit to remind you, giving a wide, mean smile. Your lip began to quiver.

"You're not even fucking me and I'm going to cry," you tried whimpering.

"Funny how none of those sound like any of those safe words," Oliver points out. Your lip stops quivering, in fact, you glare at him out of the corner of your eye as you pout, still trying to be soft and gentle with Farleigh.

"That's because they're not," Farleigh says far too knowingly, far too smugly, muttering into your ear once more, though loud enough for Oliver to clearly hear how sharp and praising it is, "and aren't you pretty when you cry."

"Can't cry if I'm dehydrated," you huff, and finally Farleigh, with a roll of his eyes, gives in with a sigh.

"Give her the water."

You immediately perk up, looking far too pleased to be getting your way, and lean forward expectantly. Oliver will give you this - and only this - before he drags every bit of satisfaction out of you that he wants. So he is careful, doesn't let the water spill, lets you breathe between mouthfuls when you indicate.

"All of it; it's good for you," still he tells you, tone like a teacher, cup insistent at your lips.

"Yes sir," you managed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you drank more of the water, but something snapped, rewired in Oliver's brain. Farleigh could see it too.

"Oh he liked that," he commented, eyes alight with intrigue, and you frowned as you indicated for Oliver to lower the cup.

"I'm not saying it again."

"The optimism you have about what you will and won't do tonight is adorable," Farleigh tells you, planting a teasing kiss on your cheek, while you tell him to piss off.

"Give me the last of my water, you fuck," you finally manage, and Farleigh finally feels like he can lay himself back down, cackling at your audacity in the face of everything that had just happened. He also drops the leash, at least confident in either Oliver, or his own reflexes, for the time being, "do you want me to drink it all or not? Pick a lane."

Oliver, glass in one hand, reaches between your legs with the other. Immediately, you close your eyes, breath catching, knowing exactly what he was playing at.

"Is that how you think you're going to get fucked tonight?" No response; Oliver's thumb begins moving on your clit, pressing insistent circles as your breathing grows deeper, "are you going to be a good girl?"

"I'm not going to bark for you," you manage through gritted teeth, though after a moment, you half stutter out a moan, "please can you let me finish my water?" Two fingers slide teasingly down your slit, "please, Oliver -" you swallow hard, eyes opening to meet his; he can see this almost pains you, "please Oliver Quick, can I have the last of my water?" Those two fingers inside of you, curling, teasing, pulling a groan from you, eyes fluttering closed, and your voice barely above a whisper, "may I finish my water, sir?"

Oh yes, he did like hearing that from you.

"Of course," Oliver sits back, pleased, licking his fingers clean like a pleased cat while assisting you with finishing off the glass of water. You can't meet his gaze, already embarrassed by how quickly you'd given in. He watches your tongue dart out across your lips, collecting the few drops that had strayed, clinging to the edges of your lips. Beautiful mouth, he's sure he can put it to good use.

"All better, princess?" Farleigh snarks from behind you. Oliver thinks he can see you bite back on a harsh retort, and once again watches you change tact. Shifting away from him, half turning so you were now perpendicular to Farleigh and able to properly look at him, you wriggled your legs out from under you, perhaps a little more comfortable to your side, like a Victorian woman on a fainting sofa, it's an unassumingly sweet pose for the situation. Though it clearly matched the energy you were trying to give off.

"Yes, Farleigh, thank you, Farleigh," without even sparing Oliver a single glance. For a long moment, Farleigh's gaze slides from your innocent act to Oliver, looking unamused and still holding the empty glass. A strange moment of understanding passes between them the minute Farleigh sees Oliver's gaze snap to the leash down your back. So he sits, leans in close to you, and takes your face in one hand. It's clear you're leaning in to this perceived moment of tenderness, but Farleigh stops, a breath from your lips.

"You fucking bit my hand," his voice ice cold, you see there's no humour in his eyes as you pull back and try to stammer out something, anything, genuinely caught off guard, "so thanks won't cut it, princess; you can start with an apology."

"I -" you begin to frown, but then the bed dips behind you, and Oliver's cool hand is grasping at the leash, pulling gently.

"Didn't say speak," he warned, and didn't even give you a moment to butt in before continuing, "show Farleigh you're sorry."

Farleigh, clearly delighted by this turn of events, sits himself up, shuffling back to lean comfortably against the headboard. This confidence becomes him, legs spread in invitation, generous cock resting hard and wanting against the smooth plane of his stomach. For several long moments, Oliver watches Farleigh lazily stroke himself, simply watching you and Oliver through a smug, half-lidded gaze.

"You should see yourselves," the teasing barely hides how his voice is dripping with want. Unsurprisingly, you try to play it off, becoming flustered at the implication of you staring, of how much you knew you wanted him. But Oliver meets Farleigh's gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Farleigh's smile widens.

"Aren't you lucky?" Oliver murmurs into your ear, grip on your leash tight as he keeps his eyes locked with Farleigh's. Though you've gone quiet, Oliver's unsatisfied with your lack of proper response, and gives a pointed yank on your collar.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm lucky," you sighed faintly, "sir." Farleigh snorts a laugh, and Oliver grins, shuffling himself to sit on Farleigh's other side, by his hip, and looks expectantly at you before giving your leash a tug. At least you seem to be getting into this, considering you actually perk up, scrambling as best you could to sit yourself between Farleigh's legs.

There's something about the gleeful little grin that you give Farleigh in this moment that give away how much genuine joy and anticipation you have to have your mouth on his cock. He too seems at home in this moment, settling back against the headboard with his hands behind his head. It's almost cute, your eagerness, the way you lean down in anticipation before.

"Can I have my hands back now?"

Farleigh goes to sit up, goes to say something, as if he'd realised you'd probably need your hands for the act, but Oliver cuts him off before he can.

"No." And it's too firm for him to argue with. When you look at Oliver this time, there's something there that wasn't before. A moment of genuine doubt, a moment of genuine submission.

"Sir, I think I need my hands for this," instead of argumentative, it's almost pleading. This is the moment he knows he's starting to win. Oliver tips his head to the side, as if regarding you curiously.

"Do you?" He can see the doubt in your eyes grow; it's driving him mad the way he's holding himself back, but good things take time.

"I think so," you don't sound sure.

Oliver moves slowly, deliberately, and makes sure you're following his movements. Farleigh's cock twitches in Oliver's cool hand, but all Farleigh does is let out a low, pleased hum. He starts simply, thumb gliding over his slit, collecting the precum that had been beading there, hand then moving up and down in even strokes. For a moment, he chances a glance at Farleigh, only to see his head lolling back against the bedframe, pleased smile on his lips.

When an actual whimper escapes you, and Oliver feels you tug on your leash in his other hand, he remembers his task at hand. There's lust in your eyes as you wriggle, thigh clenching and rubbing together at the sight of Oliver working Farleigh's cock. This might be far easier than he thought.

"You want this?" Just like a pet owner with their clearly eager dog, Oliver teases you.

"Yes," your practically bark, breathless and eager and embarrassingly fast. It actually seems to catch both Oliver and Farleigh off guard, Farleigh's cock clearly reacting positively in Oliver's hand to your obvious desire, and Oliver giving Farleigh a genuinely impressed look.

"Never seen someone so eager to get their mouth around a cock before; you must've done something special to her."

"Do you want me to teach you or do you want me to show you?" Farleigh's eyes shine as brightly as his smile in the silver-blue glow of the night. Oliver's mouth goes dry at the thought, his own cock aching at the mere thought of what it would be like to look up at Farleigh with his smug approval - knew you could be boy for me, Oliver - and he wants to hate the idea, but he can't. But he doesn't get the chance to respond -

"No, mine," slips from you like a whine, unexpectedly possessive. It brings both boys' attention back on you, however, and you seem to realise your slip up. Mouth opening and closing, you can't even seem to find the words to defend yourself; at least you've learned to shut up.

"Careful princess," Farleigh says surprisingly coldly, slipping back into dominance with practiced ease, "you're lucky, remember?"

"I'm lucky," you nod emphatically, but you're straining against your leash, wetting your lips.

"Good girls get treats," he yanks your collar back to remind you who still holds your leash, "this a treat for you, princess?"

"I do genuinely enjoy it," you admit honestly, seeming a little flustered to be saying as much, looking to Oliver with a sheepish smile, "not with anyone else though," it's actually a very sweet moment.

"Really?" Farleigh seems genuinely flattered, wide, bashful smile on his face as he sits forward a little.

"You seriously don't understand how hot the noises you make are," you laughed a little self consciously, "I came completely untouched once just from going down on you."

"Are we here to stroke Farleigh's ego or his cock?" Oliver rolled his eyes, already tired of this, but Farleigh sat back obliging, while you tried to bend down, but very much couldn't.

"Pick a lane, Oliver," you groaned, before quickly amending, apologetically, "sir." Farleigh snickered. Oliver's gaze grew cold.

"Beg for it."

He pushes his hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you to double over and bend down, but then kept his grip on your leash tight as he held the shiny, plump head of Farleigh's cock just inches from your lips.

"Please," already you were back to playing along, mouth open, breathing heavy, whimpering as you hear an impatient moan from Farleigh himself, "please, sir please -"

"Please what?"

Mouth hanging open, panting like a desperate whore, you beg for Farleigh's cock in your mouth, your throat, to be facefucked and used, whatever - you felt like you were going insane from the suspense. All the words come spilling out from you, begging and dripping with need that Oliver almost gives in right there.

Oliver's hand has been skilfully fisted around Farleigh's cock this entire time, keeping him hard and ready and in the perfect spot to drive you made, just out of your reach. He'd half forgotten he was even doing it, getting him all worked up, leaking, slick, fingers shiny and sticky with Farleigh -

"Oliver -" Farleigh chokes out in a kind of warning tone, as if to tell him to stop playing around one way or the other.

"You think you deserve this?" Oliver finally lets Farleigh's cock go, and you actually whimper. Oliver wipes his hand off messily against your mouth, once more demanding to know if you think you deserve this. You're begging, please tumbling from your lips even as Oliver presses two fingers into your greedy mouth.

"Please, sir," muffled so much that it's almost indistinguishable as your thorough tongue laps at Oliver's fingers, "please, I need him," and the desperate tears are welling in your eyes as he keeps his fingers in your mouth but pushes you back up onto your knees.

"Will you sit for me if I give you what you want?" He pulls his fingers slowly from your mouth. You nod, heartbeat alive when he wraps a firm hand around your throat, "will you stay for me if I give you what you want?" Another nod, lip trembling and breathing so desperately hard. He applies more pressure.

"Anything," you gasp, hips moving again, insistent, desperate for friction; he'd see to that soon, "speak, shake," you wet your lips, "roll over."

Oliver glances over his shoulder to where Farleigh is watching with rapt attention. Good.

"Good dog," Farleigh mumbles, desperately working his own hand up and down his shaft.

Oliver lets go of the leash carefully, and your eyes snap back to him. Just as you promised, you sit, you stay, a good dog, watching him move closer to Farleigh with intent. He hears your breath catch the moment he takes Farleigh's cock in hand, and the desperate chanting of 'pleasepleaseplease' as he lowers himself down. For a moment, he looks to Farleigh, a silent question of permission, but considering he too can hear how desperate and needy you're behaving at the mere sight of this, he realises, at least in part, what Oliver's doing and seems entirely on board.

You were right, Farleigh moans and whimpers like a whore with a mouth on his cock. A wanton melody made all the sweeter for your begging having turned simply to needy noises. What Oliver can't fit of Farleigh in his mouth he continues to jerk off, momentarily slipping down to gently squeeze Farleigh's balls, earning him the most beautiful series of swears Oliver's ever heard. Tongue always moving, caressing, often lapping at Farleigh's slit and the sweet, salty slickness, Oliver works hard to make him feel good - which he knows he's more than capable of, despite his demeanour he's nothing near a virgin in any realm - without getting him to close. He'd still leave that for you.

For a moment he glances up at Farleigh, and the bitterness in his eyes at the edge of the obvious lust, like he resents Oliver for being so good at this, makes it all worth it.

I got you here, Farleigh, Oliver thinks with bitter triumph, everything else is sloppy fucking seconds.

When he pulls away, he makes sure there's a distinctive, lewd slurp before he takes a deep breath.

Looking to you, the fight is back in your eyes, but it doesn't fucking matter; Oliver won. He pulls you in for a rough kiss -

"I hate you," you snarl at him through your intensely frustrated pout, even as his hand grabs your jaw, "interloping little slut, where the fuck do you get off -?" But the minute he pushes his tongue into your mouth you still try to press yourself against him, to kiss him harder, taste all of Farleigh in him that you could. You know you're sloppy fucking seconds to him, and you hate him for it.

"I was thinking it was going to be in you," Oliver says blithely as he pulls away from the kiss. In the back of his mind he knows it's a loaded statement - ha - but he hasn't forgotten the colours if this was a bridge too far -

"Fucking finally you have some common sense," you sneer, as if you weren't still on the verge of tears, "I was going to say that if you ruined my sheets I was going to have you arrested."

"No you weren't," pipes up Farleigh with an eyeroll. Immediately embarrassed you tell him to shut up, "no, I don't think I will; I'm beginning to think you guys are a bunch of fucking teases -"

Oliver gives him a thin smile, handing over the leash, having gotten all the permission he needed.

"Are you going to be good for Farleigh?" He whispered low in your ear, "didn't you want this?"

"Weren't you just begging for it?" Farleigh smirked down at you, lust-filled approval in his voice, "come on, baby," he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands, and immediately you're his, "crying for me?" The teasing starts warm, but as he's wiping the first of the tears from your cheeks, as you're nodding with embarrassment, his teasing turns mean and sharp and smug, "crying like a desperate, little cockwhore," he doesn't even time to let you react before he's giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze; "open up," he orders in that same cruel, loving, smug tone that makes Oliver's hairs stand up on the back of his neck. But you seem to react with relief the moment you have your mouth around him.

There's something that even Oliver finds entrancing about Farleigh in this moment. He'd been leading you both for so long that he'd forgotten where it had all started, the way Farleigh had spoken so early on, and how even in your most vicious or playful, part of you would always refer back to him. Part of Farleigh had earned your respect, and in the end, he had been the only one in the house who made the princess feel like her place was on her knees.

"Now your little power trip is over," Farleigh's voice cuts through Oliver's thoughts like a fucking knife, as always, painful and clean and precise, "do you need my permission to -" but Oliver's done with his bullshit tonight too.

"Shut it Farleigh," he rolls his eyes and starts to move once more. Time he focuses on your bound hands, finally deciding that you'd probably had enough, or at least were willing enough to listen to either Oliver or Farleigh in a way that mattered.

"Oh my god, freedom!" You immediately announced, sitting up to throw your hands in the air with a genuinely delightful glee.

"You see what you've done," Farleigh looked over your shoulder to Oliver, tossing his belt to the side, but you were already using your freedom to crawl up to meet him. Oliver's surprised by how genuine and affectionate you are when you tell him to be quiet for a moment. With one hand still working on him, the other being used to brace yourself up, you kiss Farleigh gently. What surprises Oliver even further is the momentary look of actual love in Farleigh's eyes as he cups your jaw and kisses you back.

Then you're moving back, making sure to let them both know that you weren't kidding about how much you enjoyed going down on Farleigh. However you do give pause, looking at Oliver through narrowed eyes for a long minute where he's sitting by your knees, watching the exchange, not quite sure where he was meant to go from here.

Your foot lashes out at him. Hard. It's unexpected. Somehow, so is the second kick that follows immediately after. The third he anticipates, but by that stage you'd shunted him to the edge of the bed, and though he tries to catch your leg he falls off, unsuccessful.

"What kind of problem do you have?" Oliver is scowling from the floor, his shoulder and hip sore from the fall, while Farleigh is laughing his ass off.

"What are you, a coat rack suddenly?" You demanded, matching his scowl with one of your own, still braced on your hands and knees over Farleigh, "also fuck you for making me beg for water." Careful, Oliver thinks, he's not quite done making you beg.

"Maybe his dick's broken," Farleigh snorted, "which would be a fucking shame; have you had a proper look at it?" Oliver bristled at the implications, though he knew he'd be thinking about the compliment tucked in there for days to come.

"You are both right fucking insufferable," Oliver snapped, getting to his feet and brushing himself off with indignation.

"Yeah, I'll cry about it in the shower later," you could clearly be heard rolling your eyes. There's a few pointedly obnoxious moments where you make a point of gagging on Farleigh's cock before coming back up for air and to add, "fuck me or fuck off - woah, okay, good choice!"

Before you can even finish your ultimatum, Oliver's decided he's come too far to, well, not. Grabbing your thighs with all the strength he could muster, he pulls you almost entirely away from Farleigh, to the end of the bed, half off the bed, causing you to faceplant into the duvet the moment your knees were no longer supporting you. Farleigh's protests fall on deaf ears, however, as all Oliver allows himself to focus on is keeping you stable, bent over the end of the bed like this.

Still, Farleigh shifts down to accommodate your change in position, despite his eye rolling and claims that Oliver's being dramatic, it's overshadowed by the sudden, loud moan that escapes you.

"Never felt someone so fucking desperate for someone they hate," Oliver bites out, almost impressed by how easy it was to bury himself in you. In the moment he gives you to adjust, his hand pressed to the small of your back to which you eagerly arch back against him, he watches Farleigh. It's his turn to be smug.

After a moment, he gives a few, shallow, experimental thrusts. Each time you rock back to meet him, to take him as deep as possible, and each time he hears a faint, pleased whimper. Your body and it's desires has betrayed you at every single opportunity, which is information Oliver gladly keeps in the back of his mind.

"Come on princess," he leans over to you to murmur in your ear where you'd pressed your face to Farleigh's thigh for the moment, attempting to keep going with your hand on him when your body could only focus on the rhythm of Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, "you've got a job to do, don't you want to be good?"

"I want to be good," you keened, before making the effort to prop yourself up, taking Farleigh in your mouth once more.

It's the last moment of care that Oliver affords, however, as he very quickly sets a rough pace, nails digging so hard into your hips that he thinks he might draw blood. But your cunt still clutches at him like it was made for his cock, so slick with how much you need this, need him in this moment, that it's already dripping down your thighs.

The three of you get lost in each other, each desperate moan from your muffled by Farleigh's cock hitting the back of your throat. The sensation soon sets him off and he can't keep his hands off of you. Up on his knees he takes over, takes your face in his hands as you look up at him, teary-eyed with a heady kind of bliss, and he matches Oliver's rhythm as he fucks your face.

Oliver can only imagine the kind of mess you look like right now, but has to focus on sustaining himself, making sure he doesn't leave you with any more excuses to belittle him tonight. So he reaches around, between your thighs, and his fingers find your desperately sensitive clit.

Immediately your stance slips, widens, gives him better access to your clit, and he hears your muffled moan become a choked sob. The beginning of the perfect end.

Farleigh's getting close, his pace is faltering, his hips are stuttering, you're whining and gasping desperate breathes between each of his thrusts, that have turned to wordless, overwhelmed sobs in the past few minutes. Oliver is genuinely impressed that you're able to take all of Farleigh like that; he wonders if he'd dedicated time to training you. He can't dwell on it, not when Farleigh's eyes have fallen closed and he's started mouthing what Oliver can only assume is a string of swear words.

For just a moment, Farleigh looks like an angel. Ethereal. He almost glows. Perfectly at peace and content and not a total, unbearable smug asshole. Then he pulls his cock out of your mouth and lets his legs give out again, flopping back onto your bed with a wide grin.

"I thought Oliver couldn't make you speechless," Farleigh teased, while you had in fact moved past words almost entirely, except -

"Please," you sobbed desperately. Farleigh, who'd never gotten to see you like this from here, lights up, moving back to you. You're shaking, barely able to support yourself, and he finally sees Oliver's hand between your thighs, and puts two and two together.

"Please?" He wears a smile that's all teeth, gently taking your shoulders and the pressure of keeping yourself up. In return you find yourself holding his face, his arms, everywhere, for support as he moved you back to press against Oliver. Taking the hint, Oliver wraps his arm around you, firm against your back, keeping you secure as he fucks up into you.

"Pleasepleaseplease -"

"Words, princess," Farleigh tells you as he brushes Oliver's hand out of the way, letting him focus on the new angle, the new sensation, the way you're trembling and so close to cumming on his cock. Before you can even formulate proper words at first, your head falls forward onto Farleigh's shoulder, sobbing, aching with how good you've been made to feel.

"I'm so close," you choke out, "please can I -"

"Selfish," Oliver admonishes coldly, and the reaction is immediate.

"No, no," you whimper apologetically, something Farleigh's never heard from you before. Lifting your head you lean back, fitting yourself against Oliver further, trying to placate, "please, no I promise- you, I need -" you take a deep, shuddering breath, "Ollie, please, it feels like I'm going to fucking die if you don't cum in me," you blurt out. Farleigh actually laughs, he's never seen you so fucking weak for another person.

Your begging and desperate pleas spur Oliver on, holding you tighter, fucking you harder, until he finally leans forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. It sends you over the edge, has you seeing stars as you cry out. Shudder and sobbing with your release, you feel Oliver bury his cock deep in you as it twitches and throbs and paints your inside.

Oliver lets you go, lets you fall onto Farleigh as your orgasm is still quaking through you. Oliver's hands grip your hips, keep you flush to him, keep you from pulling away.

"That's a good girl," Farleigh murmurs in your ear. He's holding you close with one arm, the other gently running his fingertips up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. He doesn't bother sparing Oliver a second glance, Oliver isn't an important part of this equation to him anymore. Not that that matters to Oliver.

It was far easier to pick you apart, to own you inside and out, than he'd ever imagined. He'd brought you to tears, made you beg for every last bit of fucking pleasure including every inch of him and then some. He would leave you aching, leave you knowing that you both knew the truth of where your place is in his world.

Finally Oliver pulls out of you, wiping his softening cock on your thighs before he thinks about getting dressed. He does take a few moments, while you're still half bent over the bed and being supported by Farleigh, where Oliver watched with a detached kind of approval, the way his cum starts to leak out of you, down your thighs with your own shining arousal.

The princess had been collared, cuffed, and his, inside and out.

"Thank- thank you, Oliver Quick," your voice is demure and grateful among your sniffles and whimpers, and Oliver can't help but smile to himself. His pride in you extends only to your final show of submission, though it's pride nonetheless.

"Good girl."

[sasoxichomoshi]

there's something so charming about hunter, but in a soothing way

it doesnt mean she cant be silly ofc, but her eyes reflect so much of her moods and personality

when she's with the eagle she looks calm and gentle and much of the expressions she makes are towards the eagle; when nimue gets the bird, when the godslayer stuns the eagle and got one of the flaps and at the end of the game when he corrupts the eagle completely there were always a close at her face to show us how worried hunter was towards her friend

it's as if the eagle highlights hunter in some way, cause if you think about it hunter is not really an important person; she's an outsider and a stranger, and eagle mother is there not only to push her forwards, but she also works like this excuse to develop what lies inside hunter - her feelings

the more i think about, like no human(oid) character in the pathless have a mouth, which is an interesting decision - may it be because the animator said "nuh uh i aint doing this" or because they had other intentions - having no mouth makes it harder to humanize a character cause to do so you work around facial expression mostly

for characters like the diver or the little guy from journey it works cause humanizing them is not the focus - they are vessels for the player to experience the message of the game, much like a blank page, but hunter is a more defined type of character, she's not only for the player to control; there are instance where she speaks for herself (literally), she reacts towards her environment (like when she groans when she hits the ground), it's a bit of "i exist in relation to others" kind of thing i dont even know if this explanations make sense

the thing is, if you gonna hide the mouth (and it's funny cause they got rid of the mouths but not of the speech), to deliver something believable you have to put extra attention in other places, like eyes (which is probably the reason why they made her eyes big, for emphasis) and corporal expression (i love all of hunter animations like ALL of them, the idles are so cool and my favorite has to be the climbing one HAVE YOU SEEN THAT CREATURE)

another aspect that locks my eyes on hunter is her color palette; she feels a bit like 60% red and 40% black which an almost dangerous distribution cause it gets near the boring looking too evenly palette, but i feel like this problem is partially solved by the color choice cause black and red is very iconic (but i see that this can be subjective, so take it with a grain of salt)

to give some examples: im typing from an nitro acer (black red palette), you can see cars with that bright red (+black of the tires), and i can name a few characters with red+black combination, like matoi ryuko from kill la kill, kaguya, that masochist from that cassino games school (she's iconic i will recognize but i wont lose my time googling it i dont wanna know details about that anime)

(also if i had to point a match for hunter from another media....... kikyo my beloved i fucking love you my gay awakening i kept watching inuyasha cause i wanted to see you on my screen omg)

but at the same time her color scheme puzzles me: what does it mean? usually color is used for storytelling or readability purposes

hunter red black contrasts very well against the greens/whites/oranges of the landscape, mostly bc it's highly saturated; but then you get to the boss fight and......

i know that the boss fights dont take as many screen time as exploration but considering that they are the action moment hmm idk the math aint mathing here

well what's about storytelling? a bit of the same problem shown on the above image; hunter shares the color scheme with the corrupted tall ones and godslayer which makes things even more confusing

(seriously am i stupid and didnt see the obvious hint everyone else saw and im just here staring at the walls idk)

that said i have come up with my own worms to explain this and it comes down to: it's not from the land/natural

godslayer and the corrupted tall ones shouldnt exist, they are not natural to this world and actually an evil twist of the reality; hunter not necessarily is corrupted, but is also not natural (from the island), she's an outsider, it's about this feeling of not-belonging

however in the end of the day the color choice is also about readability and keeping things cohesive; stretching the color palette of the entire game just to give hunter a different look would do more damage than helping, imagine changing to something not that far like a pink or yellow, things still would change drastically

in the end i still love hunter very much ma babegurl <3 sillly stupid<333 my dear blorbo<333 hope she finds a lot of hobbies <33333

[krilld0tt]

can u explain ur favourite wilson angst

yes!!! i love talking about wilson angst i would talk for hours about it

i just love seeing wilson being a little freak of a scientist 🤭 part of this is kinda just projecting my problems onto him but SHHH it’s for character development i swear…

anyways i just want to see him go through ten gazillion mood swings and having the shortest fuse🫶 he doesn’t know how to take care of himself cause i always imagine him before the constant when he was living alone, he didn’t have anyone to keep him safe so he’s been carelessly spilling chemicals on him (sometimes on purpose..) and like not cleaning up anything..ever. so he thinks all of this is normal. also i love having things that contradicts each other sooo much like wilson would carelessly have his arm burnt to crisps but end up being self conscious about it and repeating it he would not eat for days but then care about his body image like he wants to be sooo perfect but he can’t

i talked too much about wilson in this one🫶 what happens when you tell me about wilson angst

[psychopatois]

Understanding OCD: Exploring Obsessions, Compulsions, and Associated Challenges

Definition

OCD is characterized by persistent and distressing obsessions and compulsions. Obsessions are intrusive thoughts, urges, or mental images that repeatedly surface in the individual's mind, causing anxiety and discomfort. Compulsions, on the other hand, are repetitive behaviors or rituals performed in response to these obsessions, often as a way to alleviate anxiety or prevent perceived harm.

Common Obsessions:

Fear of germs or contamination

Fear of forgetting, losing, or misplacing something

Fear of losing control over one's own behavior

Aggressive thoughts toward self or others

Unwanted, forbidden, or taboo thoughts involving sex, religion, or harm

Desire to have things symmetrical or in perfect order

Common Compulsions:

Excessive cleaning or handwashing

Ordering or arranging items in a particular, precise way

Repeatedly checking things (i.e., checking if door is locked or that the oven is off)

Compulsive counting

Praying or repeating words silently

Important Considerations

Not all repetitive thoughts are obsessions, and not all rituals or habits are compulsions.

People with OCD generally:

Can't control their obsessions or compulsions, even when they know they are excessive

Spend more than one hour a day on their obsessions or compulsions

Do not get pleasure from their compulsions, but may feel temporary relief from anxiety

Experience significant problems in daily life due to these thoughts or behaviors

Common Comorbidities

Tic disorder involving repetitive movements or sounds:

Motor tics (sudden, brief, repetitive movements)

Eye blinking or other eye movements, facial grimacing, shoulder shrugging, and head or shoulder jerking.

Vocal tics

Repetitive throat-clearing, sniffing, or grunting sounds.

Additionally, individuals with OCD may also experience diagnosed mood or anxiety disorders.

In Conclusion

OCD is a multifaceted disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts and repetitive behaviors that can significantly impact an individual's quality of life. By understanding the nature of obsessions, compulsions, and associated challenges, we can better support those affected by OCD and promote empathy and awareness within our communities.

Disclaimer:

The information provided in this content is based on research, public information, and insights obtained from the DSM-5 (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition). While efforts have been made to ensure accuracy and reliability, it is important to note that I am not a licensed therapist or mental health professional. As a licensed Registered Behavior Technician (RBT), I possess qualifications to offer insights into certain mental disorders and illnesses. However, it is imperative to understand that the information shared here is for educational purposes only and should not substitute professional advice or diagnosis. If you suspect that you or someone you know may be experiencing symptoms of a mental illness or disorder, it is strongly recommended to consult with a qualified healthcare professional or licensed therapist. They can provide personalized assessment, guidance, and treatment options tailored to your specific needs. Please prioritize your mental health and well-being by seeking appropriate support and resources from qualified professionals. Remember, you are not alone, and there are compassionate individuals ready to assist you on your journey toward healing and recovery.

[cj33333]

The BIG thing I got out of intro psych

If there's anything that demonstrates how humans getting to this point was a complete fluke in living organisms, it's that our bodies do not have a proper mechanism for handling chronic stress (yet?).

Short-term stress was all that the original hunter-gatherer humans had to deal with, which is why our bodies are evolved with specific mechanisms to handle short-term stressful events - like fighting another animal - in ways that benefit us. Short-term stress actively boosts survival by heightening our awareness by releasing adrenaline and cortisol. Short-term stress boosts our available energy and our immune systems.

Cortisol is important because high levels of cortisol are dangerous, and can cause the death of neurons in our brains. Normally, a structure in our brains detects high levels of cortisol and basically tells the glands that release it to back off. However, when cortisol is consistently being released because of stress that lasts LONGER than a short-term event, that regulation system becomes overwhelmed and gets weakened.

Chronic stress very easily leads to major depression because cortisol keeps us awake, making it harder to sleep even if we are tired. Sleep is what repairs the body and prepares it for the next day. When sleep changes, the WHOLE BODY is affected, which also affects mood.

It's easy to prove that chronic stress is something humans were never supposed to face at this point in evolution because humans aren't the only ones who can be stressed for prolonged periods of time. Other animals can experience chronic stress too (typically because of human interference like being placed in captivity).

Animals including humans can literally die with help from chronic stress, especially because it weakens our immune systems and blood flow. If this is something humans were expected to face, we would have evolved with bodies that could combat it, because a body with a higher tolerance to chronic stress would be more likely to survive.

Why didn't the hunter-gatherers need to deal with chronic stress? Because they never had to think about several stressful future events at once, all throughout the day. That's why chronic stress ends up being the only kind of stress that's actually harmful - we are not built right now to deal with living in large-scale structured societies where our entire lives are played out on the basis of having complex, stressful relationships with other humans, and having the 'purpose' in our lives and the expectations for how we live essentially be built by other humans with and without our own control.

Stress is probably why we feel like our lives need to have a narrative, because life is basically you vs. your stressors, and it's been that way all throughout history. From "How do I get my family through the winter?" to "How do I keep my grades up?" Even non-physical stressors like: "What comes after death?" In fact, one of the most effective conscious choices we do to compensate for our lack of a biological chronic-stress-fighter is creating a belief system that makes it feel like we understand the world completely and that stressors are in our control. We have a concept called religion designated for that kind of thinking, but it is more broad than supernatural beliefs. Creating a narrative for ourselves based on us fighting our own stressors has to be a thing that most people do because there has to be a way we can cope with chronic stress to make up for our bodies' lack of a coping mechanism.

So now humans are stuck trying to fit themselves into this image of living in a society where chronic stress is not a problem, but a mandatory **challenge** that we'll grow from and yada yada yada (our bodies tell us that it is very much a problem btw).

...Even though stress was never meant to have negative impacts. I don't know if humans will ever biologically adjust to that. I don't know how our bodies could handle chronic stress.

[camaraderieofharmony]

THE CAMARADERIE OF HARMONY

a rain world oc askblog run by @delfinxxia , @frindoka , and @stormystarlight

CoH is our silly little askblog run by three silly little friends who are just having fun ^_^ this will be a fairly casual thing that we'll do in our free time so it might be pretty regular, might not be. we'll see!! revolving around five iterators and their companions, CoH centers mostly on found family, belonging, and healing. it's going to be both silly and serious. just how serious, well we'll have to wait and see for that too!

there's a couple rules for the blog:

absolutely no asks that are hateful or nsfw in any way. we won't be answering these for very obvious reasons

no magic asks, either! ex, a character is a different species/gender/etc. for a certain amount of asks/posts

we are probably not doing rp asks/asks directly from other ocs atm, sorry

and we'll add more here later if needed, but honestly this is all i can think of atm

other than that: ask anything!

the character lineup is right here, and below the cut, a bit more info on each of them!

higher quality image here

THE ITERATORS

Eighty Blank Pages / Pages (he/she): friendly and compassionate, yet a bit nervous! he's usually in a good mood, and it's very difficult to make her angry. she has boundless love for the others, and his can is the one they all often visit to! (owned by delfinxxia)

Howl in Broad Daylight / Howl (xe/xim/he): cool-mannered and calm, if a bit too passive and reserved sometimes. xe can seem detached from everything, but xis passion for the things he cares about is strong. xe's a little awkward sometimes, but doing xis best. (owned by delfinxxia)

Gaze at Ceaseless Light / Gaze (they/them): quiet, intelligent, and asocial. an iterator of few words. they are the oldest of the group and the obligate "mom friend," often being the voice of reason and the only one keeping the group out of trouble. they have a very hard time being emotionally vulnerable with others. (owned by StormyStarlight)

Second Silence / Silence (she/her): can be very cocky and blunt, but is playful and talkative with her friends. not afraid to speak her mind and takes no crap. loves to lightheartedly bully her friends and cause problems on purpose. (owned by StormyStarlight)

Song of Joyous Sparrow / Sparrow (she/it): a “childish” iterator with plenty of wonder for the world, sparrow has a fondness for all creatures— particularly dangerous ones. (except for vultures, which she deems to be too scary.) she has a fascination with the ecosystem and how all the creatures in it adapt and survive. she’s very excitable, easily entertained, and doesn’t really see solving the great problem as her one and only goal. (owned by frindoka)

THE SLUGCATS

The Reader and The Writer / Enigma and Sky (both he/him): a father-son duo. the reader is a very relaxed, down-to-earth slugcat, but on the other hand, the writer is incredibly excitable and bouncy. both of them have lived happily under the care of pages for about two years! (owned by delfinxxia)

The Protector / Dusk (she/her): a fierce and protective slugcat with such intense caring. she seems mean, but really means well. she's lived in pages's city for almost as long as the reader and writer. (owned by delfinxxia)

The Peacemaker / Prism (she/her): a young, bioengineered slugcat-lizard hybrid, of yellow, white, and cyan blood specifically. she's a cheerful, energetic bundle of joy and friend to (almost) all! (owned by delfinxxia)

The Engineer / Glass (he/him): an even-tempered and stoic slugcat who wandered into gaze's can roughly eight years ago and has stuck around ever since. he is very skilled in tool crafting and does not enjoy the company of other slugcats or creatures. (owned by StormyStarlight)

The Mediator / Accord (she/her): biogenetically engineered to have the antennae of a yellow lizard for the purpose of sending signals to other creatures. her genome was written by gaze as a gift for silence. she is measured, calm, and perhaps overly cautious. (owned by StormyStarlight)

The Siblings / Night, Luminous, and Rosy (any pronouns, and both she/her for latter): a trio of siblings under the care of sparrow. night is more of a cautious slugcat with a tendency to be a worrywart, often keeping their other siblings away from trouble. luminous is quick-witted and curious; she loves to explore and enjoys the thrill of adventure. rosy is similarly curious, but in a much more childlike, cautionless and fun fashion. (owned by frindoka, StormyStarlight, and delfinxxia respectively)

The Astronomer / Paradox (she/it): paradox is a shy slugcat who doesn’t like interaction with most other creatures, instead preferring to read stories from scattered pearls. she’s often found curled up in her own little corner instead of exploring. owned by frindoka)

The Collector / Chime (they/them): chime is a wildly adventurous and brave slugcat— though their bravery can often come across as stupidity, due to their tendency to rush headfirst into things. they enjoy collecting various items and have a fondness for bells. (owned by frindoka)

[findlayccarter]

Low-key lighting

I’ve been thinking a lot about lighting for the upcoming grad film and I'm keen on having a consistent and powerful lighting setup. The script isn’t fully developed yet so we haven’t got a clear stylist approach in mind now. I plan to create a couple of template plans that suggest different moods that could be adjusted to the script’s competition.

One thing I've been looking at is low key lighting which is quite a common approach towards thriller-based films. I also think when looking at my own past work and photography that I lean towards this unintentionally because it’s something I really like the look of. The common feature of low-key lighting is contrast and dark shadows to create a mysterious and ominous dramatic look. This is normally achieved by using little to no fill lights, and mainly relying on a hard light source. 

In relation to our film, I think low key lighting would have to be used purposely to suggest tension or illustrate an unnerving feeling to the audience. In an editing sense I see this working by having a dramatic change of tone from the beginning of the film to show a turning point where the story/characters become more sinister. This technique creates a very serious tone so it would have to be used in the script where the dialogue or lack of was suitable. 

Chiaroscuro effect

Low key lighting was first established under this term from painting. Chiaroscuro translated into light-dark was a basically the technique of using high contrast shadows and highlights to add depth to an image. It was Leonardo da Vinci that spoke about an artist starting with a black canvas, as life is dark but shown through the exposure of light. This technique was continued into other art forms and influenced many of the first horror/thriller films such as the ‘The Cabinet of Dr Caligari”.

This technique could work well in the grad film given the right setting and context in the script. As mentioned before its quite a tonal change from a simple 3-point lighting change and I would want to implement it if it didn’t serve a deeper purpose than looking good. The plan is to shoot in a pub I believe, so this might cause some problems in consistency if I need create a strong key light – but a lot of pubs can be filmed effectively in a dark moody way so it could work in my favour. Having looked into where low-key lighting came from, I’m interested nearer the time of pre-production if there are any paintings I can use to guide my inspiration for a scene/shot. 

[jinpuaipple]

After determining the overall expression, the book began to design the overall format and form

In my opinion, the traditional format but also the books can not well express the parallel relationship between ai and human thinking, forming a contrast but also a one-to-one correspondence, so I first tried the form of folding pages. However, I soon found that although the front and back sides of the hinge could be used as double lines, allowing the reader to read back and forth, the whole page-to-page relationship after opening the hinge itself was a whole, which could be a whole painting or a continuous image with a relationship between each other. However, if the human images in my project could still produce some weak relationship, In terms of AI, I plan to make separate design images to represent different perception and information processing methods applied by AI in different scenarios respectively. These images are completely independent and cannot form a continuous image as a whole, which is not suitable for folding form. In addition, although there are clear two opposing narrative lines on the front and back of the hinge, the connection and comparison between the human aspect and the AI aspect of each individual figure become very weak or almost absent when reading, which is the fatal defect caused by the structure of the hinge. The lack of such connection will bring great influence, so I gave up the form of hinge after consideration.

I also tried to change the narrative into a continuous narrative and changed the form of the book, designing a structure similar to the book. The purpose of this design is that the contents of the inner opened page are continuous, while the corresponding outer page is separate, and each time a new page is opened there is a separate AI page and all the successive human narrative pages that have been opened. But when I actually did it and made the book demo, I found that this form also had a big problem. In terms of content, I found that this structure still failed to highlight the one-to-one correspondence between AI and human beings that I wanted to express. In the process of actual reading, there are individual fragments on the one hand and complete narratives on the other. Readers' attention will not only focus on the new page opened individually, but on the whole. This kind of correspondence is confusing. From the perspective of structure, it is difficult to control the size change of each page due to the thickness of this binding method, and I have not found a suitable material for the material, soft material superimposed together will not form, hard material folding is also very inconvenient. On balance I decided to try the new structure again.

In the end I decided to use a card + binding similar to a file box. Putting the structure aside, I went back to my original idea and re-examined what I wanted to do and what I wanted to focus on in my project. In fact, in order to ensure this one-to-one correspondence, both of them need to be independent narrative systems. The human part is a series of photos that have a weak narrative relationship but are essentially independent of each other, while the Ai part is corresponding to a separate, separate feedback based on the photos. With this in mind, I use a form similar to the Polaroid photograph on the human side. This form is close to life, more casual and free. Different from professional photography or solemn album photos, portrait group photos, etc., Polaroid, because of its own characteristics, does what it wants and has no restrictions, focusing on recording the present moment and every moment in life. It does not need to consider photographic composition, photo sequence and narrative relationship. They are independent and loyal to the moment and the present. It is the best choice to conveniently record the most real things, mood and feelings of human beings, which is its advantage. On the other hand, in the part of AI, I decided to use a form similar to file or experimental data record as the back of the human polaroid photo to design ai, and make a format similar to the experimental data file to observe, analyze and record the positive human photos. As different records in the archive, they have a similar format layout to indicate that they are in a series, but they are independent of each other, they are not related to each other, each piece is separate, so the AI part is to show different ways of doing things, they are different in terms of content, A format change is made according to a specific method The cards don't bind well in this scattered form, so I keep them in a kind of file box or small box. Wrap the cards together in a box with a closed sheet of paper similar to a protective cover. Put a guide card in front of the card to give a general description and introduction to the viewer. The open cards have no internal order. Viewers can scatter them randomly on the table like polaroid photos to see the overall effect. After browsing, they can select the photos they are interested in, and then flip over to understand that the AI processes and analyzes the image -- just like the AI itself does. After that, the viewer can put the cards back in order of the date and time marked on the photo, or simply put them in any order.

[reactionimagesdaily]

[tomwambsmilk]

"Isn't it exploitative to take and sell tommy milk for your own personal profit?"

"Isn't it bad for his health to be milked so often?"

"Keeping Tom in a field with a model office seems like a human rights violation."

These are the kinds of questions @tomwambsgoose and I get all the time! And while we know the people asking have good intentions, a lot of these questions come from a place of ignorance, so I want to dispel some of the common misconceptions around tommy milk and proper tom husbandry.

First - what a lot of people don't realize is that tom needs to be milked regularly for both his physical and psychological health. Tom's body produces a pretty regular amount of milk daily. If we don't milk him, that milk has nowhere to go, and his tits will become enlarged and swollen, like the image below:

Now this picture might be pretty for us to look at - but what most people don't realize is that this tommy is actually in a fair amount of pain! It's deeply uncomfortable for his tits to be that large, as you can tell from his facial expression (furrowed brow, mouth slightly open, squinting a bit) and the gesture he's making, which is the gesture tommies make when they need to be milked.

Of course, if we stopped milking him for long enough, his milk production would eventually decrease and stop, and we wouldn't have to worry about swollen tits. But that brings us to the second part of the problem - regular lactation and milking is an important part of tom's psychological well-being. While it is normal for tommies to stop lactating once they reach a certain age, that process wreaks havoc on their system. And on top of that, tom is still very young! Normally the cessation of lactation occurs sometimes in their 60s or 70s, and our tommy vet has estimated tom's age at around his early 40s, based on his teeth (reference image below):

Now, sometimes tommy lactation will temporarily cease if the environment around tom contains too many stressors. This is because the original, natural purpose of tommy milk is to feed roys - but if tom already has stressors in his environment, then feeding roys will put too much strain on him, potentially causing catastrophic organ shutdown. (Also, since many of his stressors are roy-induced, it works as a sort of positive/negative feedback loop for managing roy behaviour.) But these periods have a negative impact on tom's psychological health - he experiences increased mood swings, depression, feelings of yearning, the urge to speak like a harlequin romance heroine, as well as nausea, dizziness, and confusion. (What many members of the general public do not realize is that tom's unfortunate performance at the congressional hearings was largely due to confusion induced by a cessation of lactation - which began due to the stress caused by the cruises scandal going public.)

A tommy that is experiencing a cessation of lactation is easily identifiable by those who know what to look for. Take a look at the image below:

All the telltale signs of a tommy that has ceased lactating are there - hunched body posture, downcast eyes, and a general aura of depression. The hunched posture in particular is key - the absence of weight in his chest unablances him, and to compensate he instinctively hunches over to try and replicate the feelings of lactation.

A tommy that is still lactating but has not been recently milked expresses characteristics that are similar, but distinct to the professional eye:

The distress on this tommy is much more potent. Notice how his facial features, particularly his eyebrows, are drawn upwards rather than down. You can also see the furrowed brow and open mouth here again, much like in the first picture.

One of the biggest differences between a tommy experiencing a cessation of lactation and a tommy who simply has not been recently milked is mood stability. A tommy that is experiencing a full cessation of lactation will experience some mood swings, but generally their mood is characterized by consistent feelings of depression, grief, and yearning. A tommy that is still lactating but is unmilked experiences far more intense mood swings, as well as periods of rage. Take a look at the images below, taken only moments apart from each other:

In this case, the potential security threat and resulting lockdown of Waystar meant that Tom was unable to be milked at the appropriate time. In this case, he was only a couple of hours overdue - but you can already see the intensity of his symptomatic mood swings. (After this incident, Greg was trained in both the appropriate techniques for milking tommy as well as some basic tommy handling skills, so that he would be able to take appropriate action should a similar situation arise).

And finally - tom likes to be milked! Milking causes his brain to release serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin, giving him feelings of euphoria and creating a bond with the person who milked him. If he's being milked regularly, these feelings are minor - a little mood boost that helps keep him happy and stable. If he's gone too long without being milked, though, the euphoria will be incredibly intense, causing a physical reaction that can be dangerous to bystanders who are not properly trained in the art of tommy handling, as seen in the image below:

This intense euphoria is usually followed by an even more intense feeling of bonding with his milker:

These sorts of situations can be tricky. Once an intense bond with a milker has been established, tom reacts very poorly to attempts to physically or emotionally distance him from the milker:

In this picture you can see a rising sense of distress and anger caused by Greg's attempt to emotionally distance himself from tom. Even though tom is only in profile, you can still see the tension in his face, the raised eyebrows, and the bared teeth. Not only is this bad for tom's emotional well-being, but being in this state for too long can cause tommy milk to begin to sour. If the bond is new, or weak, sometimes you can wean tom off of the attachment slowly - but breaking stronger bonds can be potentially life-threatening. A milker who has intensely bonded with tom simply has no choice to but to accept his proposal of marriage:

I hope this clears up a few of the misconceptions! I'll address some other common concerns over the next few days, but if you have any questions about tommy milk or proper tom care and husbandry, feel free to send vi or myself an ask - we'd be happy to answer <3

[savvythepirate]

How they react to you being short/small

Jack Sparrow:

• Jack loved that you were small compared to him, as you got in his embrace perfectly

• Jack knew you well, and he knew that you are very well capable of being independent and you stepping in to defend yourself if you were ever out on your own

• He can’t help but feel concerned about you if we’re out there, knowing you’d look defenseless and very vulnerable to others, making it an easy target

• One of Jack’s favorite thing about you being as small as you were was the teasing.

• Though he teases you, he doesn’t do it in a way that’s meant to hurt you.

• Sure he gives you a bad time, but when you’re in the right mood, you go along with it and tease him right back

• He loves it when you go to him if you can’t reach something from the top shelf

• It’s not long before you catch on when he purposely hides your things on the top shelf just so you had no choice but to ask him to help you get it back

• “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You say, arms folded as you faced him.

• “Damn right I did.” Jack wasn’t afraid to admit it.

Hector Barbossa:

• Like Jack Sparrow, he loved the image of you being smaller compared to him

• Your height is around 5’3’ and though you say you wished to be taller, Barbossa would protest of the idea and gave you some really good reasons why you being short was a good thing

• Even though you were very strong and advance in self defense, Barbossa still felt like he needed to protect you in case things go wrong or in just any time for any reason

• With your small figure, one of the advantages was your hands were small as well, and fingers are a fine point

• You’re able to fit into small and tight spaces without a problem and you’d help Barbossa get something from there when he can’t or anyone else on his team can’t do it

• You we’re the smallest person on his team, and some of the team felt a little jealous that you could fit in places where they couldn’t for themselves

• Barbossa would sometimes tease you about it, but it was more in a playful manner, not meaning to go as far as to insult you

• He keeps a watchful eye on you during errands, it’s easy to lose you in a crowd so he keeps you in his eye line

• If he catches someone looking at you in a way he doesn’t like, and is much to his liking, he will be on the way to knock some sense into the guy

• For example, you were both having a drink in each other’s company as usual, and when Barbossa left you for only a moment, there was already a stranger trying to get you to leave with him

• You refuse, obviously. Barbossa is livid as the scene unfolds before him, as he doesn’t hesitate to stalk over angrily

• You and Barbossa were both fueled from the rum, but Barbossa made this a scene you’d never forget

• He plays pretend, claiming to the guy that you were his wife. You play along as the guy gives you a look you didn’t like, but you didn’t break your eyes away from him. With Barbossa there, you felt safe enough to do so.

• “That is my wife you’re talking to! I want you to stay from us, from our table, but most importantly, you stay away from her!”

• As he raises his voice, the look on the man’s face showed intimidation, even more so after what is said next.

• “Have you lost your damn mind?! Cause I’ll have no problem to help you find it!”

• As Barbossa cracks his knuckles as if getting ready to fight physically, that was when the man walked off and out of the bar

• Barbossa turns to you, making sure you were okay

• “Are you okay?”

• “I am now.”

• “Let’s get you back on the ship before I go after the bastard and rip his head off.”

• You followed

Davy Jones:

• Just as everyone else, he loved that you were small, especially when you stood next to him

• It made him feel more protective of you

• Most times, he would keep you by his side so he doesn’t lose sight of you

• He’ll try and talk you out of going through the same battles as the rest of the crew

• It wasn’t easy convincing him that you would be just fine, and though he knows your right, he can’t help but worry

• He doesn’t take it to kindly if he catches one of the crew staring at you in a way he didn’t like

• You’re the only one who can calm him down before he really is pushed over the edge, getting him to spare the guy he caught looking at you

• But he doesn’t leave clean, but he left with a threat

• “Remember this, next time, I won’t be so nice.”

• Davy loves the way your small figure fits against him when you embrace

• He almost never loses sight of you, but when he had a couple of times before, he panicked and began searching for you

• He always steps in front of you when in a situation doesn’t feel right

• Often times, he would use himself as your own shield, even when knowing that you are well trained with self defense

• He’s afraid of losing you if something happens and he’s not there

• Unlike the others, Davy doesn’t tease you about being small, but the crew does

• Davy overheard them talk trash, teasing about you and it leads to a dangerous confrontation

• Just like any other, they quickly apologize and claim they didn’t mean any of what they said about you before asking, more like begging for the captain’s mercy

• It would have been too late, doesn’t give second chances when you’re not there to convince him, as you would usually tell Davy that everyone deserves a second chance

• You don’t find out about the deadly encounter of the crew teasing you until the following morning, being informed by Bootstrap Bill to take caution when you’re around Davy, explaining what had taken place

• Knowing Davy wasn’t not in the mood for you to come to him and ask what happened, you wait on his terms

• Despite his cruelty and dark heart, he was always kind and gentle towards you. It was like that since before the relationship the pair of you had now

• Davy would eventually calm down before going back to you

• Despite your small figure, you were the light of his life

Will Turner:

• He seems to be a little more sensitive about your small frame

• He treats you as if you were something that held great value and was very fragile.

• His favorite thing to do was to hold your hand, he loved the way your small hand fits in his rather large one

• Whenever you’d come across the opportunity to playfully annoy him, you would wait until he falls asleep, whether it was during the night or an afternoon nap.

• You’d take one of your sharp, bone pointed finger and playfully poke him to wake up

• He doesn’t appreciate that, but if was something that you find humor in, he lets you get away with it

• Though it was agitating, he would have to be in the right kind of mood to tease you right back

• When it was your turn to be teased, he would come around you unexpectedly and playfully poke your sides

• Knowing that was your weakest spot when it comes to being ticklish

• He hardly does it, though

• He only does it when he walks in on you trying to reach for something from the top shelf

• Of course he’d help you get it down, but not without having a turn to tease you

• Sometimes, you just weren’t in the mood for him teasing you and would get upset at him, having him feel bad about it

• “What was that for?!”

• “It was just my turn to tease and give you a bad time.” He explains

• Even though you couldn’t stay mad at him, you just weren’t in the mood for teasing. For even taking your turn in teasing him

• “That was the last thing I needed.”

• “Is everything okay?”

• “It’s just something called a bad day.”

• You left before giving him the chance to say something to that, but as he tried to process his own thinking of what to say, it was the guilt now tugging him as if he was a puppet being pulled by the strings

• Eventually, you were able to calm down. You got up to go apologize to Will, but he was already there, standing before you

• He makes his full approach to you after suggesting the best cure for the kind of day you had

• You soon find yourselves cuddling with each other, feeling his arm wrapped around you as you were the little spoon

• Sometimes you’d tell him that how sometimes you wished you weren’t as tiny as you were, and all he could say to that was everything about you was a perfect fit for him

• He’d have you snuggle into him as close as you could get before placing your head on his chest

• Holding hands and snuggling were his favorite activities to do with you when it comes to you being small

• He didn’t let anyone tease you about your height in a disrespecting way, if one would even dare to start just even a little, Will would have no problem knocking sense into those kind of people who talked down on you

• He’s just very protective of you, and is always concerned of your well-being if something kept him away from you for a period of time because of how small you were

• You we’re the best thing to ever happen to him, and he didn’t want to lose you

***

Requests: OPEN

@savvythepirate

[boldlybrightsun]

Jay as a boyfriend

I am not a professional astrologer and I am still studying astrology so these are based on my opinions and do take them with a grain of salt. This post is not meant to send hate to the idol in any way and is intended only for entertainment purposes and based solely on astrology.

Jay's placements:

Taurus Sun

Cancer Moon or Leo Moon

Taurus Mercury

Taurus Venus

Gemini Mars

EXPECTATIONS IN A RELATIONSHIP:

Jay just like Sunghoon and Jake expects full loyalty. Its do or die for him. He also expects his partner to be sensitive to his needs. He might also expect his partner to praise him a lot and have eyes only for him. He might also expect his partner to be very stable. He might expect his partner to present themselves very well. He might expect very high manners and proper etiquette from them. His social image is very important for him so he expects his partner to have proper manners.

HIM AS A BOYFRIEND:

So expect his partner to be spoiled as heck. He might spend a lot of energy, money and time on his partner. He might be a little controlling at times and might be reluctant to leave his comfort space and adjust to his partner. He is very stubborn so this might become a problem if his partner is as stubborn as him and it might lead to a lot of arguments. Physical affection might be very important to him. He might also place a lot of importance on material stuff in relationships so this might pose a problem if his partner doesn't place the same amount of importance on them. He is a very loyal boyfriend. He is a very romantic boyfriend and might expect his partner to remember every details that he tells them. He has really strong beliefs that are really hard to change so if his partner has drastically different views on things he might spend a lot of time to change their beliefs. He might also be little selfish in some things so if his partner is a person who gives a lot they might feel a little left out. He is also a very independent person and might spend a lot of time on himself like Heeseung. So this might be a little cold if his partner expects him to check up on them all the time. He is also the type of boyfriend who prefers very calm and quiet dates as opposed to dates that might include a lot of physical activity. He is into arguments and debates so expect him to start one often. ( He is literally an ENTP with Gemini Mars ). So if his partner is not big on talking or debates it might become a problem as he might be a little overbearing. He is also a very moody person so expect him to have a lot of mood swings. He is also a very possessive and jealous boyfriend which might be a problem if his partner doesn't tolerate one or both of those qualities.

LIKES:

People who dress/ present themselves well. Strong personalities. A very knowledgeable person who knows a lot on many topics. An outgoing person. A considerate person. A person with lots of depth to their personalities. A person who is not afraid to stand up for their beliefs and ideals. A person who lives for themselves. He might like people with pretty hands. A person who has expensive taste in things. A very classy and elegant style of dressing.

DISLIKES:

A person who lies. A person who do not respect his opinions. A person causes drama all the time. A person who spends a lot of time gossiping. A backstabbing person. A person who doesn't take care of themselves. A very needy and clingy person. A person with fake personalities. A person who seeks others validation all the time. People who tell him what to do and what not to do.

SONG THAT REMININDED ME OF HIM:

[thehaitanis]

𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔧𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰: 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔷𝔲, 𝔯𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔪𝔞

❮★❯ summary: how will sanzu haruchiyo, haitani ran and hanma shuji act when they get jealous.

❮★❯ warnings: none, maybe bad writing.

❮★❯ disclaimer: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

sanzu is definitely one to get jealous and he is more than conscious about this. he knows himself and you enough to know that not everything you do is a reason to put him in a bad mood, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel like you’re doing all of that on purpose, is it really that bad that he wants to make sure you’re by his side every time you’re together? no, sanzu is just trying to protect you while he does his job assisting muto.

it doesn’t take him any more than just one second to make him feel like someone’s trying to take you away from him, like, he just needs you to look uncomfortable for him to act, leaving whatever he’s doing to appear by your side and, even if he’s not as tall or as strong as other toman’s members, his cold eyes and the fact that he has peculiar scars are everything he needs to scare the person away. he won’t even try to hide how jealous he is, he doesn’t care really, sanzu just wants them away from you so he could continue with what he was doing before someone decided to try their luck.

he tends to be mean to people he doesn’t like, so expect no less of him if he happens to open his mouth because what’s about to happen will leave with a pounding headache and the reminder to never have an argument with your boyfriend.

it’ll be pretty obvious just how jealous he is, you would know what he is feeling but not the reason behind it and it’s not like he will tell you, so you’ll have to investigate the possible causes for his sour mood. it’ll look like he is mad but, in reality, he’s just going through the very same scenario that made him feel like that, thinking of different ways he could’ve approached the situation to not make it that obvious.

sanzu will accept his jealousy only if you push him to. he’ll gladly die with his envious feelings before even coming close to accepting the fact that he doesn’t like to see you paying attention to anyone that’s not him, at least not the special attention you always give him. that is something he holds dear to his heart and would completely refuse to share.

he doesn't get jealous, not at all, he has never in his life felt jealous, not even when stupid guys try to get closer to you by faking some kind of accident, no, he never feels the need to beat their faces until they’re not recognizable anymore. that, obviously, is a lie because haitani ran is the ceo of reading to dirt anyone that thinks they can get close to you with those intentions without any consequences.

as confident as he is, it wouldn't take long before he begins to feel jealous. it would start as mere amusement, finding funny that someone had the guts to approach you when you’re clearly being surrounded by the haitani brothers and a bunch of other dangerous criminals that act under their command, but ran let’s them be, observing with interest as this stranger tries to get you to give your name and your phone number. then he’ll make a stupid joke in hopes of getting you in a better mood and there is where ran will draw the line. he knows you’re only laughing because you’re nice, but that doesn’t take away the fact that he feels the sudden urge to kill that idiot right there.

he’ll approach this person with confidence, a fake smile plastered on his face and an aura that can repel whoever is around. he’ll be “nice” every moment he gets to talk, making hurtful comments that will either make the stranger leave or make the situation extremely uncomfortable. whatever it is, you just need to be prepared for ran to be in his absolutely worst mood once he scares the person away.

although he won’t treat you any differently, you’ll know something it’s up with him the moment you’re alone. usually, ran is the one always doing the talking, speaking of everything that comes to his mind but now it’s you the one who’s doing all the talking

he won’t ever admit his jealousy mostly because he doesn’t want you to think lowly of him, trying to keep the oh so perfect image he worked so hard to keep, but he will definitely be way more affective with you for the rest of the day to compensate for his behaviour.

i think hanma is one of the characters that can get the most jealous in tr mostly because his personality is very volatile. as we have seen before, hanma only acts under his own interests so it wouldn’t be rare to see him getting mad when something doesn’t go the way he planned or when something takes his fun away from him.

even if he gets easily jealous, it would take a lot of time before he realizes what he’s feeling, mistaking it at first by simple annoyance when he sees you leaving to talk to someone else. just where are you going? weren’t you telling him about your day? his relaxed smile dropping the moment he sees you laugh with the one he was left for. it would take someone else to point out the fact that he might be jealous for him to realize that he actually is and, the moment he accepts it, it’s the moment all the fun you were having is gone because there’s no way you can ignore the tension in the air when suddenly you feel hanma’s arms circling your shoulders, his chin resting on top of your head while he gives an obviously fake smile to the person in front. it’ll be best if you just leave, pretending you both have something else to do in hopes hanma will let the problem go.

hanma is pretty much an asshole to everyone except you, so as you can imagine his behaviour towards the other person will be anything but kind. he’ll pretend as if nothing’s happening, including himself in the conversation you were having in hopes the person will get the point that he’s only faking his laugh. i feel like he’ll also be the type to put threats into his words in hopes to create a fight like the troublemaker he is.

i’ll be pretty obvious to you that he’s jealous, this guy won’t even try to hide it because, at the end of the day, it really makes him feel like you’re the only one that can get him that worked out without even being responsible for it.

hanma will one hundred percent admit his jealousy and he will do it in the most hypocritical way, finding it funny that even someone like him can get jealous. this will also show you just how much he cares about you, so please don’t go talking to other people if you were previously beside him.

❮★❯ requests are: closed!

[strange-lace]

Macaque

I was in the mood to make more content for Inverted AU, so here’s a short-ish fic of how episode 9 would go in this AU with Macaque, Wukong, and MK! Enjoy the shadowpeach!

Another demon defeated but still no sign of Sun Wukong. Macaque let out a sigh before rolling his shoulders to bring relief to tense muscles. Oh well, he'll just have to keep looking, not like he hasn't been at it for years now. At least this city he wandered to was quite nice with pleasant people, nothing too out there aside from demon attacks.

"Hey! Hey you! Shadow monkey man!" Macaque wouldn't deny that the sudden voice made him jump, considering he was on top of a pretty tall building. Apparently not tall enough to stop the young man from climbing up the side, somewhat out of breath yet that didn't deter from the determined look on his face. He simply brushed his messy hair out of his eyes and adjusted his teal backpack, which looked surprisingly heavy. Macaque couldn’t help but be somewhat curious as to what was in that thing.

Wait was that the Monkey King's staff in his hands?

Indeed it was, he'd recognize that weapon anywhere.

“Ah, you must be the Monkie Kid I’ve been hearing so much about, am I right?” That got him a look of suspicion before the young man also seemed to remember the staff in his hands, causing him to let out an amused huff at his own paranoia.

“Yeah, the staff kind of gives it away, don’t it? Name’s MK though. Now whomst is you? Most of the time, demons who ask me who I am are five seconds away from trying to kill me.” Macaque couldn’t help but chuckle at that, already finding that he was starting to like this little guy and his attitude. Perhaps if a person like MK was chosen to wield Wukong’s staff, then perhaps that meant his love had finally started turning things around for the better. Maybe it meant he finally stopped being someone he wasn’t all for the sake of keeping a memory alive.

“The name’s Macaque, though, the Six-Eared Macaque is actually my full name. But what brings you up here exactly bud? I doubt you’d climb up this high just for anybody.” MK’s face showed that he wanted to argue that point out of principle before remembering his purpose for coming up here.

“Simple, teach me.”

Wait what?

“What what?” MK scoffed at the question.

“I want you to teach me to fight, like how you fought that demon back there. I don’t intend on leaving you alone until you do and that is a threat!” Macaque didn’t doubt that he meant it that way and could very easily follow through on that. Sensing he wasn’t going to get out of this, he let out a sigh before giving MK a smile.

“You sure your mentor won’t have a problem with me teaching you?”

“Bold of you to assume Wukong’s disapproval will stop me.”

“Well alright then, I think we’re gonna get along just fine, bud.”

---

“I see what you’re trying to do, you’re afraid of holding back and giving your enemy the opportunity to win. But the first strike isn’t the most important one. Every strike counts. Other people may tell you that patience and focus don’t matter but a fool allows himself to rush without restraint. While you have power inside you, you have to use it carefully. Take the power to defend others, not just destroy those who stand in your way. You’re not a weapon kid, you wield the weapon above all else.”

---

It started with a fairly innocent question from MK after one of their training sessions, him slowly going through a water bottle given to him by Macaque while the monkey made them something to eat. He needed a distraction to stop himself from taking over the cooking, years of feeding others making him feel guilt the moment someone else took over.

“So Mac, how exactly do you know the Monkey King?” To his credit, Macaque only fumbled the slightest bit at that sudden question and was able to save the plate before it crashed to the floor.

“Oh um well… funny thing about that is, well… we used to be together actually. Like y’know… together-together,” he explained while he plated their food, wincing internally at how awkward he sounded. With his back towards MK, Macaque didn’t notice him go tense and grip the couch arm so tightly that the wood underneath cracked at the pressure.

“Used to be together, huh? What happened?” Macaque couldn’t help but shiver at the chill which traveled down his spine. MK’s voice was perfectly even and calm yet he was filled with an overwhelming fear that warned him to not turn around and remain perfectly still until the danger passed.

His ears twitched at the sound of sparks behind him, magic power permeating through the air.

“I… I messed up honestly. We had an argument about something, I don’t even remember what it was so long ago. But I had to leave to just get some space and air before I said something I’d regret, something I couldn’t take back. It was only meant to be a couple hours but some stuff out of my control happened and by the time I got back… Wukong was gone. I had been looking for him for centuries after that and then… well then you found me.”

“What, you hoped getting on my good side would mean that you’d win the Monkey King back?” His tone promised nothing good if Macaque kept digging himself a deeper hole.

“No! No, nothing like that at all. I don’t expect Pe-...Wukong to take me back or anything like that. I just… wanted the chance to apologize to him is all. If he wants anything to do with me afterwards, then I want that to be his choice. Nothing more, I swear.”

MK remained silent behind him before the sudden tension in the air dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Macaque let out a sigh of relief, slowly turning around to see MK still sitting on his couch, placing the staff back in his ear nonchalantly.

“Fair enough, sounds like you both were just idiots who don’t know how to communicate. If you actually intended on using me to get to the Monkey King, you’d have actually mentioned him during our training and yet you haven’t. And you can’t lie to save your life anyway. Just don’t be an idiot again alright? Monkey King… Wukong, he’s a mess and I don’t think he could handle thinking he’s been abandoned again.”

Macaque could feel his heart break at the idea that his Peaches, his love, thought that he had left permanently. He wanted nothing more than to run to him now and make things right. But that was Wukong’s decision to make, nobody else’s.

The two ate their food in silence after that.

---

Sun Wukong may have supposedly “lost his edge”  but he was by no means dense or oblivious.

And while he was certainly happy about his successor’s vast improvement over the past couple weeks, a part of him sensed something was off. Like his successor was hiding something from him. And those moves he watched MK use to absolutely demolish the old mural, the Monkey King swore he had seen them before.

But it couldn’t possibly be. He hadn’t seen him in centuries. Not since he… left, like everyone else.

“I’m impressed, my boy! Tell me, how did you do that? Have you been seeing another mentor perhaps?” Wukong asked, his typically serene smile straining the slightest bit at the idea of his son student learning from someone who wasn’t him. The sensible part of his brain was gently poking at him, reminding him that it seemed silly to get upset about such a thing as, if anything, MK had appeared significantly calmer during their training compared to when they started. This could be a good thing, it told him.

Yet it was silenced by the majority of his brain which ran on fatherly protectiveness and had immediately been plagued by images of the worst case scenario. A demon had approached MK, promising him to make him stronger while also poisoning his student as a bid to turn him against the Monkey King before stealing his powers or, Heavens forbid, harming him.

No, Wukong refused to even allow a chance of that happening, logic and reasoning be damned.

“Hey, you’re the one always going on about ‘patience and focus’, I’m just finally putting what you said into practice,” MK answered, the picture of being casual which only set off further alarm bells within Wukong’s head. But before he could question him further, MK’s phone dinged to tell him of a new text message which he quickly read over, his eyes widening slightly at the message.

“Welp, looks like I gotta cut things short for now Wukong, something came up and I gotta head out. See ya later! Don’t forget to eat something tonight and sleep, I will know if you don’t.” And with that, MK was off through the hole he had created in the wall where the mural was before the Monkey King could get a word in edgewise. 

Wukong waited long enough to allow MK to get a reasonable distance away before transforming into a bird, flying after his successor.

Something fishy was going on and the Monkey King was determined to find out what it was.

---

“Why exactly are we climbing up to this giant mountain again Mac?” MK wheezed, hating to admit it but this hike had genuinely winded him despite all his training. He had immediately gone to Macaque’s place the moment he got his text only to be told to follow the six-eared demon, leading them to where they were now.

“Well, consider this your ‘final exam’ bud! I want you to use everything I’ve taught you to fight against me, no holding back. Think you can do that?” MK couldn’t help the twitch at the corners of his mouth at the sight of Macaque’s genuine excitement as he explained, all six ears twitching while his tail was wagging like a dog. A demon who was centuries old and had fought countless powerful demons had no right looking that endearing, but here MK was looking with his own two eyes.

MK gave a chuckle before straightening himself out, wordlessly pulling the staff out his ear.

“You sure you’re comfortable getting your ass kicked by me, Mac?” With a smirk, Macaque summoned his own weapon in a flash of purple with the beginning of two shadow clones pooling at his feet. They shyly peeked from the ground from behind their master.

“Oho, a couple training sessions with me for a month and you think you have what it takes to defeat me, bud? Well then, bring it Monkie Kid!” MK didn’t hesitate to charge forward with Macaque mirroring him, weapons at the ready and adrenaline already running through their veins.

“Enough!”

A sudden force landed in between them with enough force to send them both flying backwards.

MK and Macaque recovered in time to see who decided to interrupt their duel.

Both of their hearts nearly stopped at the sight of the enraged Monkey King but for vastly different reasons.

“You have 5 seconds to explain yourself for trying to harm my-” Wukong’s rage quickly deflated as the dust cleared enough for him to truly see who it was he had thought was attacking MK. “Mango Flower?”

“Um… hello again, Peach Blossom. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Macaque joked, voice weak as he restrained himself from acting out of bounds even if he wanted nothing more than to gather the other into his arms. It had been so long, far too long. 

He nearly broke at the sight of tears beginning to form in Wukong’s eyes.

His resolve finally shattered as the Monkey King ran towards him, arms outstretched, and before Macaque knew it his legs were moving on their own. The wind was knocked out of him at how tight Wukong squeezed him yet he returned the embrace back with gusto, ignoring the groaning of his ribs. He simply buried his face into the other’s fur, the smell of peaches still there even after all these years. Faintly, Macaque realized he was also crying once he felt a wetness on his cheeks.

Macaque let out a squeak in surprise as Wukong picked him up in the hug and spun him around, the sound of his laughter echoing throughout the mountain. The sight of such unabashed joy on his face was enough to make the six-eared demon to start laughing too, joy contagious in the best of ways. 

MK would deny it unless under the threat of death but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two monkeys get lost in their own little world. It made the guilt which nagged at his chest at having to manipulate the two to make this meeting happen ease up, seeing how happy the two were.

“It’s been so long…” Wukong whispered as he placed Macaque back on his feet, gently cradling his face as if afraid that if he stopped touching the other, that he’d disappear again. “But, why are you here? I had thought that you hated me, isn’t that why you…” Macaque went stiff in shock before taking the Monkey King’s hands into his own.

“What? No! If anything, I thought you hated me for leaving instead of talking things out and that’s why you were gone when I came back. I always intended on coming back to you Peaches, I swear on it.” Wukong’s eyes went wide at that, extremely close to crying again a second time that day. “I had been looking for you for centuries now to apologize.”

And now the warm feeling was gone, leaving MK to bite down on his staff to stop himself from screaming at how much those two had failed at the simple of communication.

“We’ve both been absolutely foolish, haven’t we?” Wukong couldn’t help but laugh at it all, which only worsened as he noticed all six of Macaque’s ears turn red in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I guess we have been-” His words were cut off as the Monkey King grabbed his scarf, pulling him into a sudden kiss that made Macaque jolt in surprise before he practically melted into the other’s arms. A purr rumbled in his chest and neither noticed their tails wind around each other.

The sound of MK clearing his throat, loudly, was enough to get them to break apart in embarrassment.

“If you two are done being romantic idiots, I have to beat the shit out of Macaque to prove that I’m better than him. I mean ace my ‘final exam’.” The grin on his face showed that he was lying through his teeth.

“Don’t think I forgot about all your trash talking, young man. How about it Peach Blossom? You willing to go all out with me and the kid?” 

Wukong’s face was the epitome of ‘Every part of my body wants to say yes but I shouldn’t.’ He was already terrible at saying no to MK and now with Macaque’s endearingly earnest face, he knew he was done for, at least with these two working together now.

“...Oh alright.”

The two mutual cheers at his agreement made Wukong feel slightly less guilty in letting his lessons go for a brief moment. But not completely.

But that was okay, Wukong was used to living with constant guilt.