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prettyboykatsuki · 7 days ago

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well-intentioned | jing yuan.

✮ tags ; fem + afab!reader, face-sitting, solidier!reader, they r husband and wife, domestic fluff, established relationship, 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (im crazy)

✮ a/n ; flash comm for @kakasheesh that tumblr decided to eat upon first post </3 thank you for patience!

this is the same couple as these two pieces but can be read totally stand alone.

“General,”

A light tap against your ass makes you suck in air between your teeth as you lay across Jing Yuans lap. Somewhere you’ve fallen in an attempt to reach your phone. His voice is smooth in that familiar, usual way that makes you want strangle him a little given the circumstances.

“Try again,”

You let out a resounding sigh. “Jing Yuan,”

“Warmer,”

A flush creeps up over your face. You speak through gritted teeth. “My dearly beloved,”

A pause. You feel the arm weighing you down where you lay across Jing Yuans lap lighten, no longer trapping you. Before he can get a chance to change his mind, you clamber to sit up on your legs. Jing Yuan gives you a lazy look, arm stretched around the back of his couch with a familiar smile. “Acceptable.”

“What was the correct answer?” You ask, flatly. Jing Yuan rubs his chin.

“Any variant of husband would’ve sufficed,” Jing Yuan says. “I like what you’ve said better. Where are you off to so early in the morning?”

You look at him blankly, suspicious. “Training. I always train first thing in the morning. You know that,”

He hums with faux clueless-ness. “Is it mandatory?”

You squint. “Not particularly. It’s just part of my regiment.”

“Then,” His arm curls around your back. He’s strong. It’s easy to forget since most of the time he’s tragically docile. He grips onto you and drags you with him back into the bed - pulling up the covers over you both. “Stay. A day of rest won’t kill you,”

You huff, mildly exasperated. You should’ve known. “Jing Yuan,”

Jing Yuan holds you firmer, tucking you into his side. You look up at him. His expression is almost hard to read. Or at least, it’s not on you see on him often. Golden eyes wet with sincerity, round and soft - almost begging. He places his lips against the crown of your head to placate you. “Are you so determined to leave me?”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You’re especially melodramatic today,”

Jing Yuan laughs. “Perhaps. I’ve missed you a great deal,”

You soften. “You make it sound as if I’ve been more absent than usual.”

“I suppose you haven’t,” Jing Yuan says thoughtfully. “How strange it is. I’ve been alive this long, yet no time passes so slow as when we are parted.”

You feel heat creep up your neck at the romantics. Not a tactic to keep you here, though you prefer to think of it that way. If you read too much into the sincerity, you’re sure your face will overheat from embarrassment. “Enough with that,”

“Stay,” He insists.

“And do what?” You tease, voice light. “I know how fond you are of doing nothing but I think this time would be better spent for me elsewhere,”

“If you’re looking to get your heart racing, I can think of a few alternative methods. Consider it compromise,” Jing Yuan says. Salacious. Playful in the way he only ever is with you. You scoff at him.

“Was that your real intention?” You ask, almost incredulous. Jing Yuan smiles airily, though he does not answer your question. He replies with his touch instead.

A big hand settles on your hip as you lay on your side, smoothing along the curve of your waist before slowly making their way underneath your shirt. He settles them on the small of your back and slides them all the way up to the nape of your neck in a single go. You tilt your head up to look at him as his hand cups the back of your neck. The intimate touch steals the breath from your lungs. It’s easy to concede when his touch reads so obviously wanting of your company. Jing Yuan stares down at you amused. Long lashes resting on his cheek as you feel his thumb trace along the skin.

His eyes demonstrate his desire clearly from where they peer at you. You feel your skin grow warm, looking away from him as if to discourage it. Jing Yuan only chuckles under his breath, amused at your will to fight him on it. With one swift movement, he shifts from his side onto his back - and drags your form along with him. You make an indignant sound as you rest your full weight onto him. Bodies pressed together, you rest your chin on his chest with furrowed brows. Jing Yuan wraps his arms around your middle and holds you to him.

You open your mouth to protest but Jing Yuan does not give you the chance. He kisses you. Open mouthed, tongue slipping against yours in the way that makes you melt. You feel something hard and invasive pushing against you as you lay ontop of him - but Jing Yuan makes no move to relieve or pleasure himself. As if it doesn’t concern him at all.

You pull away from him, knowingly. A sixth sense for his whims you’ve come to sharpen in your time as both solidier and wife. “You want something. What is it?”

Jing Yuan almost looks guilty. You’re sure if he was capable of such a feeling, it’d be that way. He tilts his head, his hands coming up to hold your ass. You can feel him squeeze and somehow - some part of you already knows what he’s after. You sigh.

“May I at bathe first?”

“You underestimate my appetite. I’d prefer not to waste any time,” Jing Yuan says plainly. You frown. “Come. Sit,”

You give him a flat look as his hands reach into the waistband of your bottoms, sliding them off. You sit up on your knees, straddling his waist after you wiggle to take them off. Jing Yuan tosses them to one side of the room aimlessly. You hit his chest as he laughs. Any combative words or even teasing die as you look down at him again. His hand on your thigh, thumb tracing patterns into the skin. The look in his eyes so hungry, so voracious. You frown and hasten yourself, feeling flush. Arousal makes your skin sheen with sweat.

Jing Yuan lays back and pushes you forward until you’re just nearly straddling his face. You’re sat back with your knees on either side of his head. He gives you look from between your legs, delighted to see you in this state. You tug at his hair and his eyes merely flutter. It would almost make you irritable, if it didn’t send heat pouring through your core.

It’s his want for you, so obviously and so continuously, that leaves you so flustered no matter how long you’ve been together. You’ve been under his command for years. Loved him for most of that time, only to find out it was reciprocated. So long had he been nothing but a distant object of your affection and so long had you respected him that desiring for him filled you with shame and grief. You would not dreamed of him returning your feelings in all your life.

Your honorable General becoming your kind, warm-hearted lover feels like something out of the girlish novels they used to read in the barracks. Yet, here he is. Always making it seem like his want for you is the most sensible thing in the world. What can you do but push back on it?

You shake out of your thighs as he kisses your knee. Jing Yuan once again urges you forward until your pussy hovers just above his mouth. He pushes your panties to one side in a practiced motion - pressing a warm kiss to your clit before he takes his tongue through your folds and eats.

You’re not under the impression this is what he was after from the start. The sentiment of missing you, of not wanting to part with you frustratingly sincere. You know your husband well enough to know he’s doing this on a whim. Once the mood strikes him, however, it’s hard for him to be swayed from wanting anything else. An unselfish man, a clever and thoughtful lover - laying between your legs and making love to your cunt with his mouth is the sort of thing he does with an obstinacy undeserving. The kind that makes your chest ache since its so solely for you. Should it be showing his appreciation, or asking for your forgiveness, or wanting to wake you with something pleasant.

He’ll find any reason at all to lay here like this for hours. Strong hands grip onto your thighs and force your weight down until you’re seated completely on his face. His fingers grip, dimpling into the fat as his nose bumps against your clit.

Jing Yuan laps at you open mouthed. A shattered groan escaping him as the taste and scent of your wet heat suffocates his senses. Relentless and impatient with a tempered ruthlessness - the sort of frustrating persistence that feels intrinsic to him. Second nature to a creature atop of the food chain, always reserving energy for when it’s next meal strikes and hunting it into exhaustion.

Your thighs tremble as Jing Yuans tongue slips through the slick folds of your pussy, tongue lapping against fluttering hole before settling at the tender bundle of nerves desperate for attention. Pleasure strikes you like a match as Jing Yuan finds an easy pace. He knows your body like the back of his hand, knows all the places that need to be touched to bring you to your climax quickest—knows exactly how to tease them to keep you over the edge.

You find the thoughts of protest and discontent from your missed morning routine disappear increasingly as something hot begins to coil in the lowest pit of your belly. Your hands find themselves rooting in soft grey locks of hair, threaded between each finger as your body chases the subconscious pleasure out.

Morning light filters through the windows, warming already hot skin as the feeling ricochets through your nerves. Jing Yuan hums appreciatively as your hips rut against his mouth in impatient ask - not bothering to slow you down or control the pace. He lets you use him as a vessel. Acts obedient to your desires, sucking and licking diligently. Focused on nothing but your body, his own cock surely neglected.

Held onto you with both hands and not letting go, you find yourself meeting his own pace. You work in perfect tandem. Through a cloud of hazy thoughts, tension melting through your limbs - an idle and distant part of your brain considers the reversal of roles. Solider and General, you’ve accustomed yourself to be at the mercy and disposal of the man you so respect. As wife and husband though, Jing Yuan submits himself to you without a modicum of shame. As if this change is natural and expected. You’re unsure if you will ever be completely adjusted to how eager he is to give you reign on him, how willing.

At the very least, you meet him in the middle by allowing him to do what he pleases. Perhaps you’d have more in it to fuss about, if he didn’t do everything so completely in devotion.

The familiar, creeping tension of an orgasm tenses up all the muscles of your body. Sweeping through each of your nerves, the coil inside of you wound tight begins to unravel. Slowly first, but then all at once - until your orgasm crashes into you in what feels like one go.

You hiss, back arching and hands gripping tight as you fuck Jing Yuans face unknowingly - using him to ride out your high while he moans against you blissful and contented. Your whole body locks up from the shock until the first waves pass, leaving you trembling. Shaking like you’ve just been drenched in cold water.

Your eyes flutter open, exhausted as you pull away from Jing Yuan. You feel flush as you look down at him. Red-faced with your slick running down his chin and neck, he swipes along his lip with tongue and grins— pressing a kiss to your thigh and following it with a bite.

“See?,” He says, all too smug. “Aren’t you glad you stayed?”

You roll your eyes at him. You are, though you keep it to yourself. “I’m not sure. I wonder if it was worth my precious time.”

Jing Yuan grins, pleased. Reading between the lines of your return affection. A silent understanding that makes you feel melted from the inside. “

I’ll do my due diligence then. In making sure it was worth while.”

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #writing tag #TUMBLR JUST ATE THE FIRST POST LIKE IT STILL DID NOT SHOW UP? WHATEVER

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 9 months ago

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Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

#kakagai #kakashi hatake #maito gai #naruto #my art #team gai #tenzou yamato #angst

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ohdeerfully · 1 year ago

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hiii! this is my first request on tumblr but i jus love alastor sm and there is NOT enough fics for me out there. so im asking u❤️

what abt alastor being jealous of someone else in the hotel? for example: angel dust, he puts on music and you two are dancing with eachother happily not noticing the red eyed demon with a tight grin. 🥰

Hii! Honestly after writing this I realized I didn't follow the prompt exactly, less jealousy and more Alastor being overprotective. Oh well! Hope you like it anyway :D!

Be Back Soon (i)

alastor x reader (fluff? alastor is just overprotective) part i TW: Cursing/Angel existing if you want tagged in the next part, lmk! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Your fingers dragged down the skin around your eyes as you let out a long sight, sitting at Husk’s bar with shoulders propped on the cold counter. What a day it had been, running around in the typical chaos of the hotel as Charlie tried to get some group bonding activities finished. It was getting late, and you just finally had a moment of peace.

“‘Ey, toots!” The chipper voice broke your peace and you couldn’t help it when another audible sigh escaped you. The culprit of the broken science paid no mind.

Turning your head, you narrowed your eyes and made eye contact with the lanky pink spider. You were a little salty at him in particular, being one of the main catalysts to the everyday insanity. He had an easy grin played upon his lips as he stared back down at you with his multicolored eyes, one pair of arms on his hips that jutted out a little too unnaturally in a mischievous pose. His golden tooth glinted under his light grin with a similar air of “hey I’m up to no good right now.”

“You look fuckin’ tired!” He barked a laugh, dramatically squeezing his eyes shut in a theatrical show of laughing in your face. It really wasn’t that funny, and you couldn’t stop the frown that touched your lips as you watched him. He took pride in being the way he was. Annoying.

“No thanks to you, Angel,” You clipped back. You turned your head to watch Husk, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. He had become an expert in ignoring the spider demon’s presence, which was how he managed to stay sane with said demon’s constant flirting and sexual nature.

“Anyway,” He waves away your targeted words with a wave of his hands as his eyes roll up. “I was thinkin’ we get outta here for the night? Me and Cherri were gonna have a “girl’s night.”” You briefly thought about the humor in Angel admitting to being ‘one of the girls,’ but pushed the thought away to consider his invitation. “It wouldn’t hurt ta get some fresh air. This place is real stuffy sometimes, and a huge snooze fest,” he persuaded. He rested his face on one pair of hands, fingers laced under his chin, as he leaned against the bartop in anticipation for your answer.

You purse your lips in thought. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You didn’t go out clubbing a lot, and with Angel and Cherri with you surely nothing wrong would happen. They looked out for their friends, and you would (maybe regretfully) consider yourself Angel’s friend. You glanced at Husk for a moment, as if looking for advice, but his eyes remained close and his lips had an annoyed curl. Maybe you should get out of his hair.

“Okay, okay,” You grinned, a little sheepishly. While you couldn’t really consider ‘fresh air’ to be a feature of Hell, you agreed that you needed to just Get Out of this place. Running errands for Charlie got mundane, even with all the strange characters that cycled through the place. One tends to get used to the chaos.

Angel stretched his arms up in a cheer, which earned a one-eyed, aggravated look from Husk. He uttered something under his breath before grabbing a bottle and walking to the other corner.

“Alright, sweet lips,” Angel cooed at you. “Let's get you dressed! You got anything decent up in your closet?”

Your hand found its way to the back of your neck as you answered sheepishly, “Eh, not really… At least, not for a night out. I don’t really do much outside of the Hotel.” Angel frowned at the response, tapping his chin in thought.

“Lemme take a look,” With a swipe of his arm, your hand was suddenly being held as he dragged you up the steps toward the floor of your room.

Walking down at the same time, you briskly passed by Alastor, who had his eyes closed and a hum in his mouth. His blazing red eyes peered open as you and Angel rushed past him, a quizzical furrow in his brow seeing the connection between your hands. You shot him a shy grin and craned your head back to shout a quick ‘I’ll explain in a minute,’ before you disappeared around the bend of the stairs.

You didn’t miss the dark gleam in his eyes.

Angel, in an attempt to dramatically burst through your door, slammed full body into the entrance. “Ah- the hell?” He cried, roughly jiggling the handle.

“I keep it locked,” you snickered at him and the disheveled look in his usually preened hair. You saw him take his hands to brush it out as you fiddled with the lock, an annoyed mutter of words escaping his lips. The second the door clicked, Angel shoved past you and reattempted his dramatic burst through the entrance with a bit more luck this time around.

He went straight for your closer, rummaging through this and that. What a breach of privacy, this guy is, you thought with a strained smile as you stepped up next to him to try to guide him through your very Ordinary and Plain clothes.

You felt a prickling sensation on your skin, and you swear you heard a frequency of low static, but when you whipped your head around nothing stood there. Did that shadow just move?

Shaking your head, you looked at the piece Angel held proudly in his hands, one pair of arms gripping the top and the second pair pulling the bottom out to really get a full inspection.

It was incredibly simple, but still a bit more revealing than anything you were used to wearing. A deep red top, so cropped it may as well be a sporty bra, with a couple eye-catching accents of rhinestones. Connected with thin straps was a similarly tight pair of booty shorts. Your face flushed at the thought of wearing this. It was practically lingerie.

“Isn’t it a bit, uh, tacky?” You tried in an attempt to dissuade him from this getup. He acted offended, one hand going and pressing against his fluffed chest. You didn’t miss the way he took this as an opportunity and pressed up against himself to perk up his mass of chest fur.

“Babe, I wear shit like this all the time! You tellin’ me,” He started a rant, shaking the clothes in a fit of mock rage. “You tellin’ me I’m tacky? Hah! Me! Angel Dust!” He wiped away a fake tear in his laughter.

Your face flushed again looking at the getup. With a defeated mutter you swiped it from his hands and trekked painfully slowly to the restroom. You ignored Angel’s urgency for you to ‘hurry the hell up’ because it was almost time to get going.

You slowly stripped yourself of your day clothes, gingerly stepping through the tight shorts and tucking your arms through the straps of the top. You didn’t even remember buying this thing, it had been stuffed far in the back of your closet. You couldn’t help the feeling of dread thinking about the other embarrassing things Angel might have seen in there. Though, you doubt anything could phase that guy.

You had to admit, looking at your reflection, that it did accentuate your curves, even if you didn’t have much to begin with. The rhinestone accents glittered in the bathroom light, obviously designed in a way to bring attention to the chest. The straps that connect the two pieces fit snugly against your exposed torso. You were suddenly glad Hell never got that cold.

“Almost ready!” You snapped at Angel calling from the other side of the door. You quickly threw on some touches of makeup, trying your best to compliment the shades of your outfit and adding some glittery makeup around your eyes. You quickly dragged your fingers through your hair to style it comfortably.

You ripped open your door just as fists started banging on it. Angel stood there with two arms raised, stopped midair to keep himself from decking you in the head. You glared up at him, trying to maintain your earlier sourness to hide the fact that the outfit had grown on you.

“Hey, sexy lady!” Angel teasingly leaned himself against the doorframe with a smirk. “Let’s fuckin’ go! You took too damn long! Cherri hates waitin’.”

Grabbing your hand again, he ushered you out of the room. As you raced down the stairs, you tried to continuously preen your hair to keep it from flying out of shape as Angel practically drug you down each step.

He slowed at the bottom, releasing your hand, and stepping towards Husk’s bar to aggravate and flirt with the cat one last time before heading out. You tuned out his sexual innuendoes as you tried to glance over yourself one last time.

“My, what a dame you are!” Alastor’s recognizably radio-afflicted voice ripped your attention away from picking at a loose rhinestone. He stood over you, a slight bend in his waist and an unnatural crane in his neck. His smile was there, but tight and uneasily wide as he examined you through squinted eyes. He leaned his weight against his cane.

Swallowing your unease, you examined his expression. You knew Alastor didn’t care for such… promiscuous outfits. Especially on what he considered his. You knew his compliment was satirical, and you didn’t miss that glint of anger flash through his expression.

“Heyy, Al,” You drew out your words, unintentionally accentuating the awkward tone between the two of you. He paid no mind, keeping up that seemingly cheerful grin of his as he just… stared at you. His fingers tapped impatiently on the radio of his cane, each tap bringing a warp to the frequency that always surrounded him. “I’m going out with Angel tonight. Y’know… to get some air…”

“My dear,” His eyes closed in a laugh and he straightened himself out. “Why would you ever go out there for fresh air? Now, you know those demons would just eat you right up.” A dark sneer infected his smile, lips curling and exposing the line of his black gums.

“‘Ey c’mon, Smiles,” Angel stepped up next to you and lazily threw an arm over your shoulder. You saw that sneer only deepen as Alastor watched the spider get way too close to you. “Give ‘er a break! She’s always runnin’ around doin’ shit for this bum-ass hotel! It makes her… boring!”

You didn’t know whether or not to appreciate Angel both defending and insulting you. You decided to just ignore his comments as you watched Alastor’s expression get darker and more sinister. You felt a cold sweat prickle at your neck as that static-y frequency of his became more prominent and aggressive as his eyes swept over the two of you, lingering on your exposed abdomen with a frustrated twitch in his brow.

“Why, of course!” He suddenly cheered, brandishing his hands to his side in a slight bow. “But…” He stepped towards you, looming over you. You felt that nervous tickle again. His right hand raised and, with a quick motion, a fairly modest jacket materialized around your shoulders. “All better! Wouldn’t want greedy eyes seeing what’s mine!”

How bold, you thought. He was from the ‘30s, though, and very old fashioned. It made sense that immodest wear bothered him. Plus, you looked down at the jacket. It had a similar color scheme, and was light enough to not be too warm. At least it goes with my outfit. How sweet.

You felt a bit giddy at the permission Alastor had given you–not that you needed it. (You did). You’re a grown ass adult. (It doesn’t matter). You shot him a smile of thanks before dashing out the door, meeting Cherri who had been frequently laying on the car horn for you to Hurry the Fuck Up.

Before Angel Dust could follow, a tight grip on one of his wrists stopped him in his tracks. He hissed, yanking his arm but to no avail. Alastor’s grab was like iron, and his nails began to dig into Angel’s skin.

“Hey you fuck, let me go! I gotta get out there before Cherri starts blowin’ this shit up!”

Alastor pulled Angel in closer, a sneer-like grin crossing his expression. There was a maddening look in his glowing red eyes.

“If she comes home with even the smallest scrape,” He said in a low tone, the garble of his radio slightly distorting his voice. “I’m going to make you wish you never came to this Hazbin Hotel.”

Alastor’s grip didn’t yield as Angel tried again in a futile attempt to release himself. He had a nervous laugh in his voice as he tried to act unintimidated by the Radio Demon’s threat.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you creepy red fuck,” He gruffed back, “Me an’ Cherri will stick right by her. You don’t gotta worry about nothin’.” Alastor’s expression shifted in an instant, his cheerful grin reappearing. He stood up straight and smiled down at Angel. “Good man! Now, don’t be too long,” He shooed Angel out of the lobby, who was more than glad to get the fuck out of there. He heard a faint ‘I’ll be watching’ from behind as he slammed the car door shut, muttering curses under his breath.

He knew Alastor would send that damn shadow of his to keep a close eye, so why the fuck did Angel have to babysit you in the first place? Plus, you weren’t some weak, naive fool. Whatever. He knew Alastor would take any excuse to cause some entertaining mayhem.

He sighed as he looked at you, who had a nervous but excited grin as Cherri rambled and cursed about something.

Maybe he shouldn’t have invited you out. He knew he was in for a long, stressful night. Good thing there would be a bar.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust #ohdeerfully #cursing #fluff #alastor is overprotective #reader isnt weak tho #he just cares too much i think

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destroyingangelzzz · 5 months ago

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Posting this at a very interaction unfriendly time, but I finished my design for @catmask and @frogcroaks monster mayhem contest!!! I never get around to actually completing entries for contests im interested in, so I couldn’t be happier!!

All that said, here’s The Sandwaste Harpy! I love her a lot and prooooobably should have linked this tumblr post for my submission cause I’m about to give even more design context and such, but. Oops. 😭 I was very excited and impatient. But yeah! More info below :]

So I almost immediately knew I wanted to draw a weird half-woman siren/harpy sort of design, as that is just my guilty pleasure and comfort zone. And I really needed a comfort zone cause I am so busy with school and my hand is HURTING. Back on track though, from there I wanted to make a creature that lures weary travelers to oasis to drown and eat them

These were some of my main inspirations, some got more attention than others. The sandfish was surprisingly my biggest inspiration though, despite how things turned out. I also took some inspiration from general reptilian and more specifically snake-like features. As well as taking the idea of upper and lower body coloring from sea creatures as a means to better camouflage with the light from above or darkness from below.

I was struggling with inspiration from there though, before I saw an unrelated monster design that leaned into the more monster woman design, with many heads at the front of it’s more monster parts chest. Which inspired me to design chicks and have them latch onto the plume, akin to how mother opossums look with all their babies. It made the design go from appealing to completely endearing to me in moments.

I imagine they are also similar to opossums in many ways involving caring for their young. One thing I note is how when an opossum mothers den is unsafe, she will leave her children and return at night/when it’s quiet and try to retrieve them when it’s safe. I’ve had that happen with an opossum mom who left around 12 of her babies in my garage in a soda can box and they were all so cute and I made sure they were left alone. BACK ON TOPIC THOUGH.

I did mess around with speckling in the design, but couldn’t find a way to convey that in a way I enjoyed, hopefully the sand coloring carries this on its own. She also originally had black hair but I accidentally made her blonde and realized how much i enjoyed that in her palette anyway and how it would better camouflage too.

Camouflage is not my favorite word to spell.

But yeah otherwise this piece also acted as a means to try out a new approach to line art. No pen pressure. I realized most artists who use defined line art I enjoy, do not use pen pressure and I often don’t enjoy the looks of high pen pressure inking in my own works so why. Was I using pen pressure. I don’t know. Anyway I love how this looks and it was so easy on my pained wrists so I will have to do more of this :]!!!

#art #digital art #monster design #artists on tumblr #creature design #monster mayhem

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moonyswifee · 10 days ago

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This is for my Law of Assumption, manifestation girlies–

i know everyone sees this everywhere because its the basis of the entire law, but,

your 4d is your reality. your 3d is just a reflection of it.

think of it this way, for eg there's a mirror and youre standing in front of the mirror. now, there's two versions of yourselves that you can see. one, which is literally you in hard physical form; and the second in the mirror, which is just a reflection. its not even real.

now, your mirror self does not control you physical body. its the other way round. you control your reflection.

your 3d is just the mirror reflection, guys. your 4d is the real shit. thats the real deal, where change takes place. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH.

if youre standing in front of the mirror and your reflection lifts its arm, thats not going to make you lift your arm. if you lift your arm, thats when the change occurs in the reflection. you are in control of that.

like, it HAS to change. the reflection in the mirror HAS to change because its LAW. its literal PHYSICS. its SCIENCE you guys, the reflection has to change.

just like that, your 3d also HAS to change if your 4d changes. it has to because that is also LAW. its called the LAW of assumption. why are you looking for logic in it??? so many people are gaining hundreds of dollars OVERNIGHT and you're still doubting something that always existed????? its SCIENCE, you guys its literally psychology, physics, and goddamn neuroscience. IT IS PROVEN THAT THOUGHTS SHAPE YOUR REALITY. there was a legit study conducted on this. why are you still doubting yourself????

this has been the best analogy for me so far because i too had immense difficulty actually believing that it would come true, until i realised, it already has. its already true in my 4d. i have already got that desire in my 4d. how does it even matter what the 3d shows??? my 4d matters. thats what shapes my reality. and you know what the 4d is BLIND. your subconscious is literally BLIND guys. you are already given the best possible circumstances to get whatever you want, why are you still doubting and crying????

whenever i start to waver from my affirmations, i just always think back to the mirror analogy, and that it has actually already happened in the original reality which is the 4d. the 3d does not matter. irrelevant. (im not saying to shut the 3d out its actually quite lovely but dont let that stop u from assuming u have your desires).

you can literally scroll for hours and hours on end, searching and reading through numerous posts on tumblr, videos on YouTube, you can go searching for "signs" from the universe everywhere (do that if it makes you feel good tho) and rant and complain about how its "not happening" and you're just "not good at manifesting". but you know what? no one, literally NO ONE on this entire planet, even the most master manifestors can convince you to change your mindset, or believe in your affirmations, if you dont. you need to take the first step for yourself. you cant have your cake and eat it. even manifesting takes DISCIPLINE and hardwork. not in the hustle culture way normalised by society, but you NEED to train your mind and your thoughts and maintain a mental diet in order to get to the easy part. you have to prep your brain for the easy part to come in.

i promise you your blessings are literally almost here. they are already here. the only reason you have not gotten them is because you are standing between you and your blessings and manifestations. the universe sends the desires the minute you say it, but they cant get to your reality, if you are restricting them from entering your reality.

so literally just decide. affirm. and keep. persisting. that's legit all there is. you can always always try more techniques and methods of course if you want to and you feel good about it. but do not get stressed about it. its supposed to be fun, not draining. BELIEVE for once. if it had to work out by you not believing yourself and not trusting the universe, it would have. but it hasnt. and for that to change you must trust. however unrealistic that may be.

my inbox is open if anyone has any questions always ofc <3

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vyzz-undercover · 6 months ago

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the voices have made this happen

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,900ish words) (OUUGHHHHH)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink [obligatory]

•vaginal fingering

•oral [f receiving]

•mild possessive behaviour

•the consequences of ignoring important medical devices

•mentions of (hypothetical) torture

•tumblrs recurringly cancerous formatting

———————————————————————————————————

im back on my bullshit after having to do overnights so as payment to the dark gods of whoring and degeneracy i humbly offer this taglist of sweet darling who've indulged my insanity: @the-raven-lady, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @bispecsual, @lemon-russ, @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @egrets-not-regrets, @moodymisty, @sinistermojo, @justeverythingnothingelse, @pluvio-tea, @thevoidscreams, @beckyninja, @yestheantichrist!!! if you wanna be tagged (or not) in the next let me know!!! also it may take me longer to do a part four to this namely because ive got more wageslaving ahead of me soon but alas i'll definitely have rowboat girlyman catch em. also maybe give cato some top. myehehehehe,,, AND THANK YOU FOR READING AS USUAL ILY ALL!!! :3

———————————————————————————————————

Cato is just about leaving.

After having spent the better part of an hour discussing the predicted destruction pathway of a hive-fleet on the system's rim with his Father; it sends his balls into his throat when you nearly run into him in the chamber's huge archway.

It only takes a fraction of a second to catalogue your presence.

You're wearing the same utilitarian blue robe as you had been last week again.

Last week, when he'd been pounding you insensible on a lounge in the library—Cato promptly quashes the insidious memory, smothering down any sort of reaction. But there is a change in comparison to the dizzying reminder: there's a new addition to the reoccurring outfit.

You've brought a navy, high-collared turtleneck into the mix, layered below your lapels.

So, the efforts of his mouth hadn't gone unheeded, then.

Throne, if he's not smug, he's got no bloody clue what he is.

Cato steps aside and turns to allow you entrance first before his exit.

"Commander Sicarius," you lilt with a soft voice and a small downward tip of your chin, all while holding his gaze.

He's transfixed periodically at the honeyed sort of warmth in your eyes.

Despite himself, he lingers and greets you with a slow, "Lady Ambassador."

The left side of his mouth twitches upward in a half-aborted smirk that he quickly tries to mask as a stern, frown-nod combination.

You break the staring match and Cato's confident he's salvaged his slip-up without detection.

Or not—because oh, fuck—if he doesn't feel the burning focus of a Primarch's eyes boring a hole into the side of his head like a brand.

It only lasts an instant, but the second is an eternity to him.

Of course, you're oblivious to this subtle exchange—and promptly trot past him to his Father's vast desk.

"My Lord Primarch," you say with a curt little bow; and then Guilliman's attention is solely on you, his favourite little pet project. "I read the data-drives you instructed from the preceding article logging. I've arranged them back to the most recent mark counts."

You're looking for an empty spot to lay them on his table, but with all the meticulously arranged stacks, it's none too easy to find one.

"Perfect," the Primarch breaths, "Just on the side there is fine, don't worry."

Obligingly, you lay them atop a small mountain of paperwork.

"Do you need anything else of me, my Lord?" You chirp brightly, the tone of your voice so very painfully sweet—Cato is nearly overwhelmed fighting a pitched battle against the urge to run over, pick you up and shake you around suddenly.

Guilliman chuckles, waving one massive hand about vaguely, "You've done more than enough for me today, why don't we leave it at that for now, hm? Go on."

"Of course; thank you, and have a good evening, my Lord," You say, bow once more, and turn on your heel from the Primarch, and—and smile at Cato as you walk back towards the exit. That's—that's the first time you've smiled at him. His twin hearts lurch, slamming forward against the inside of his fused chest cavity. It's perfect abominable. You rotten temptress, he's—he's going to rectify that audacity later. Or now, if you're... possibly heading the same direction he is. Which is whatever direction you're going, purely by chance.

It's merely coincidence, he swears.

He's certainly not planning on hounding after you like a dog tailing a bitch in heat.

He's certainly not going to drag you into a side room the second he's sure no-one with a credible opinion's around.

He's certainly not going to indulge in anything heretical, like bending you bare over his knee for daring to taunt him.

Cato makes as if to fall in step behind you as you pass the threshold before him, but is quickly halted by his Father's curt, "I do not believe you have been dismissed, Cato."

He's never been subjected to such sinking dread quite so nonchalantly.

"Approach."

Cato complies stuffily, sparing a glance at your figure disappearing down the corridor before acquiescing. He's practically dragging his ceramite boots across the intricate rugs as he nears the Primarch's seated but colossal form.

Guilliman isn't looking at him, having had returned to notating a miscellaneous form.

The scritch-scratch of his gene-sire's preferred, yet archaic method of manually writing on the parchment is like someone grating a plate with a fork to his ears right now.

"You've gotten over your petty grievances regarding the Ambassador at last, I take it?" Guilliman asks, without looking up.

It is not Cato's duty to like or dislike. Nor is it to be biased without reason—his opinions are to be intellectual, not emotional. His duty is to assess, analyse and provide feedback, so that his Primarch can take it into account when making rulings and decisions.

Cato swallows around the proverbial hunk of drywall lodged in his throat and answers, "She has proven herself... useful, yes, sire."

Guilliman finally meets his eyes but says nothing for a short while. There's dark bags under his Primarch's eyes, and the deep, stern crease permanently between his dark blonde brows is a slight bit harsher, but the only thing Cato can parse out of the expression's intent is a vague sense of knowing. Because, insofar, he's thought himself quite adept at reading his Primarch; and rather well versed in deciphering the intricacies of his moods.

And right now, he feels like he's being read like an open manuscript.

The daunting prospect Cato's caught sinks it's teeth in his gullet. It's impossible, he's not left any room for suspicion, he's covered his tracks—there's no logical reason why he should be getting raked with such a look.

His gene-sire isn't a psyker nor omniscient, just impossibly intelligent—and so absurdly good at the mathematics of plotting and planning that it only appears superficially as if he is all-seeing. He can't possibly know what Cato has been doing—or rather, who he's been doing.

"It's about time," his Father hums abruptly, suddenly disinterested. "Now you're dismissed."

Cato nods, turns on his boot heel, and nigh bolts marches out the room. His proverbial tail definitely not between his legs.

The hall outside Guilliman's apartments is a central domed area that functions as a meeting area, where people go to one of six looming hallways. It's the bottom of a series of levels; and above, three echelons encircled by arcades and balustrades, framed on the exterior by engaged columns.

But the structure itself is immense and ancient, even by Imperial standards. One of the few still-original, unaltered parts of the great Gloriana-class warship's innards. It is doused in long swathes of red carpet and great standards of Magcraggian note, alongside glorious, heroic frescoes depicting Legiones Astartes in their thousands, crusading across the heavens with the Emperor their head.

Cato keeps his head down as he passes them, uneasy with guilt. Feeling as if their lenses are following him—intent on venturing into the lower layers to brood.

Several Astartes are hovering about amongst the personnel and serfs. The baselines look up at him in awe, and his Brothers nod in respect, but he pays them all no mind.

The furthest corridor beckons him, and so he goes; down the complex system of broad walks with high, barrel vault ceilings, mazing through the vessel's higher clearance reaches like arteries through a body.

Cato is seething, and self-admittedly itching to take a howler of a swing at the next thing that speaks to him.

He cuts down the southern channel and sees one of his subordinate Victrix Guard lingering in the middle of a groin vault intersection.

The younger Astartes is about to continue straight, yet he pauses.

Brother Marcellus meets Cato's eyes for a second, clearly notes his Commander's absolutely stinking mood from a hundred meters off; nods, swallows, takes a step backward—and changes direction to go left rather than pass him.

Cato's too pissed to even linger on the strangeness of the action.

Still, he doesn't rightly blame him.

Cato strides on, back straight, chin up—the red shawl pinned beneath his pauldrons swirling behind him.

His thoughts are eating at him the whole while.

He's sure his Primarch is just trying to innocently divine his sudden change of mind regarding you. There's no way his Father's aware of why. And yet, guilt is a big black wolf nipping at his ankles, making him hasten; and unease clouds about his heart. He's mortified, for lack of a better word.

The full implications of the situation are too enormous to be faced all at once; so he picks the smallest, most banal facet he can think of.

That being, you.

You, who he'll never see again if his Primarch finds out.

You, who's practically damned him without knowing it.

You, who he's now valiantly trying not to imagine in a hundred different circumstances where he gets away with it all. Each one more heretical than the last—it's like it was before he'd managed a hand on you: his body giving in to suffocating delusions, sleepless in his cot; lapping at whatever scant, lust-soaked morsels his mind offers up.

One of his favourites remains you scantily clad beneath a moonlit night sky, on the parapet of his ancestral fortress on the coastal edge of Perusia.

He likes to fantasise you like it there.

He suspects you would.

He knows just about all there is to know about you on paper, and wonders if you know much of Talassar. Or if you've read about Castra Tanagra. He assumes Guilliman would share the tale of that famed old battle with you as a part of your readings.

Each impossible reverie is a new shiny nail in his coffin, or dreadnaut—it depends where and how he dies, and if there's anything scrape up of him when he eventually goes down in a blaze of glory and duty, and honour.

If his Primarch catches him, there's going to be none of that.

He'll be struck from living record, like Titus had been. Cato would be lucky to get a little plaque in the deepest pits of the Fortress of Hera. Reduced to a whispered memory of his achievements passed solemnly between Captains, followed up with words of disappointment. Of waste. Until his memory dies with them and his deeds fade into obscurity, lost to any new brothers.

The fate that awaits you would somehow be worse. Cato was always going to die in war, as was his right—but you—you were not fashioned for such things. Yes, Guilliman enjoys you, but that fact won't save you. Just like it won't save Cato for all his usefulness. You'd be tried as a heretic, as a source of corruption upon the Legiones, and you'd be made to suffer; because torture ever comes before execution. You're so very soft weak in so very many ways. Your life lived in a gilded cage, without pain nor discomfort that extends further than grating professional grievances—he doesn't want to imagine the sound of you screaming, but he does.

He cannot stand the thought.

The sudden urge to barricade you in his chambers for permanent safe keeping is all-consuming.

It's suddenly all he can think about.

He has to find you.

The amount of serfs passing and parting to allow his passage thin out to nothing.

Even from the sterile confines of one of the many winding hallways, Cato abruptly swears he can hear the echoed rush of sandals—your sandals—reverberating off the floor.

He hadn't notice you following behind immediately because, damn it, he's spiralling thinking.

He chances a confrontation, and rounds about-face.

You stand there in the middle of the empty hallway like you've got a bolter aimed at you, frozen.

"Come here," he says, clipped.

You do not.

"Come here."

Again, no compliance.

"Do you pride yourself on being a idiot?" His voice is scathing now, taking a heavy step into your space and being met by you staying stock stiff, still. "Do you have any idea what that stunt of yours earlier might incur?"

"What?" You blink, finally animating. "I didn't do anything—"

"You know what you did," he hisses, accusatory. "You're hollow between the ears, but you're not blind."

Lips pursing tightly in mental deliberation, you make a fey noise of annoyance as a little frown graces your features, apparently not deigning to offer a comment back.

"Do you not understand that... this," he gesticulates between you both and his voice falls to a whisper. "This... is not common allowance?"

"It's not?"

Are you being intentionally dense at this point, or is it just second nature?

Cato raises a hand to knead the crease between his brows, "No."

"That explains a lot, actually," you say, seemingly without any real comprehension on the gravity of the matter. "I couldn't find any notes or references on it."

He's genuinely stunned, "Is that what you were doing when—"

"When I was rudely interrupted," you cut in, the comment is nigh a spat insult.

Cato isn't sure what to say to that sudden display of spine, and grumbles.

He surmises the optimal action is complete disregard.

Therefore, he has no problem turning on the heel of his sabatons and starting his pace on again.

"So... this isn't normal by Astartes standards?"

He's taken aback at your abrupt want for conversation after all that. Namely because it's atypical. You never attempted small talk with him. You never do anything but scurry off when he's accosted you for you flagrant overstepping—wait.

He feels as if the paradigm between you both has shifted again since the last time for some reason. More than last time, actually. More than you just simply having the audacity to backtalk him.

It's like some symptom of a deeper sickness rising to the surface.

It makes him unreasonably curious suspicious.

He wants to see just how much ground you'll give, so he plays along and answers, "Not as far as I am aware, no."

You hum, and immediately are at it again, posturing, "Surely you have heard of cases of it happening?"

"I have not," Cato says, and you hum in consideration.

You're satisfied at that information for a brief while, but then he remembers you cannot shut your mouth for more than five minutes, and purses his lips. He's already tiring of your incessant questioning.

"But you'd done it before?"

And that's just great.

You've expertly found an exposed nerve.

More kindling on the bonfire of him having an aneurysm before the cycle's end.

Cato can feel the hint of pressure behind his eyes as he begins increasing his walking speed. "I don't think that is a relevant question."

You haste to stay in step, "It definitely is."

"You ought to learn a civil fucking tongue when you're addressing me, woman," he bites out, nose crinkling into a sneer.

Unperturbed by his short-tempered comment, another thoughtful little 'hmm' slips out of you.

"So, to conclude... you were as inexperienced as I was at the start, and all those gloating insults back then were just projection?" You suddenly blurt out at rather impressive speed, like a politician possessed—before finishing with, "Sorry, 'all those gloating insults back then were just projection,' Commander Sicarius."

Cato grits his teeth and feels his eye twitch.

He stops, turns to look over his pauldron, and stares bloody murder.

He can't even imagine the idiocy in your brain that gave you the imprimatur to say that aloud.

But Throne, the sly little glint in your pretty eyes suddenly has his face thudding with heat.

Then you smile at him for the second time ever.

Cato bites back the urge to ogle you dumbly, and actually feels himself thicken in his body-glove in real time, because oh, fuck—his hind brain practically pelts him across the jaw with the mental pict of that sweet mouth lathing up the side of his cock.

Mentally unseated for a moment, his brows furrow; and he quickly turns away, applying himself entirely to the task of trudging down the stagings.

The silence is a breath of fresh air.

Even if he can still hear your laboured breathing a few steps back him from him. You're straining to keep up with his pace, and it's an excellent punishment for you. His heavy sabatons clank-clank-clank on the steel decking, and your little shoes practically pitter-patter in contrast. It's a syncopated rhythm that he's absentmindedly trying to match—and when he lingers for a step he manages to even the beat out.

He hangs a left, and scales the wide stairs to the open intersection platform above two at a time; trying not to snort amusedly at the little groan you let out as you hurry up them behind him, heaving.

Cato realises abruptly that you're actually, really, seriously following him—and pretending you're not.

He makes a right at the top and then waits for you to fall in step.

And, pointedly, he then turns and doubles back around.

You stand there stupefied for a moment, before grumbling softly and continuing down the thoroughfare without him.

If his observation skills hold any weight, he heads straight into the nearest open room and waits for you to follow.

He doesn't activate the locking mechanism on the other side on purpose when he strides in, and lets the sliding door close behind him.

This particular room is forgettable in its ubiquitousness, though unusual. He has no idea of it's actual intended purpose. It's fitted with screens and database terminals as if it's for debriefing purposes, but he has no real way of confirming. What he can catalogue is that there's wraparound surfaces littered with candles. A few strips of harsh lighting and scant furniture—a tallish counter and a few long benches. They're thankfully Astartes sized.

Which means he can sit down and pray for you to walk right into the metaphorical snare he's just laid.

Not a minute later, the door's sliding mechanism triggers and you scurry through—only to promptly go stiff.

You stare at him like a rat he's just found by lifting a crate.

The mechanism shuts automatically behind you and it apparently spooks you enough to jump a little.

"You're disgustingly predictable," he harrumphs, unimpressed.

A flush rises to your face as you scowl, "You're disgustingly predictable," you shoot back, echoing his words.

Of course, that audacity of yours leads to a short stalemate.

He huffs out a sigh as he concedes out of sheer frustration and says, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one."

You blink dumbly at him, "...what?"

"It's my locking code," he growls, and Throne, you must be acting stupid just to grate him; because there's no way your brain is so smooth as to not connect the dots. "It's for the door, moron."

A soft 'ohh' leaves you as you turn and step aside to the key pad fixed into the frame.

"Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," he's agonisingly forced to say once again.

"Three-nine-five-eight-eight-two-seven-one..." you mumble to yourself.

Cato hears an angry beep and suddenly wants to smash his head into a wall repeatedly.

Grinding his molars, he snarls, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," and then adds, "If I have to repeat that one more time, I'm going to throw you out of the nearest airlock."

And it seems the threat of violence works wonders, because you don't bungle the input this time.

Cato sighs, exasperated, and leans back against the lip of the table behind the bench.

He ought to start carrying around a correctional stun rod. Just for whenever you annoy him. If it's good enough for a Neophyte to suffer, it's good enough for you, he supposes.

Or it'll send you into a seizing fit.

He's not to sure of the maximum voltage a baseline can take without their singular, puny little heart giving out.

One disciplinary option scratched out, then.

But he can think of many, many more to make a model Ambassador out of you. The wonders of carefully applied violence are plentiful. A little roughing up never hurts, or at least, not for long. And fuck, do you need some lessons on proper manners. He could have you smacked into shape like a show pony in no time—even if it'd be more like teaching a grox to trot lateral movements. Then again, he also believes if he stuck a frag far enough up a Carnifex's ass, he could probably get it to play Regicide.

And then pointedly, he starts thinking about your ass.

Cato is so utterly lost on the tangent of hypotheticals that he's flabbergasted when a small mouth lands on his own.

He hadn't even been paying attention.

He hadn't even noticed you'd neared.

It feels like the breath has been knocked out him at the sheer unexpectedness of it.

The kiss is hasty, your eyes scrunched shut and cheeks flushed, scowling with focus.

All the while, his mind reels because Throne, the contact of his lips to yours doesn't really feel particularly profound aside from how soft your skin is—but the intention of it is the real reward.

Cato's genuinely infuriated when you pull away.

You blink owlishly at him, giving him a cautious look like you're trying to gauge his reaction.

There are a thousand things he wants to ask, to say, but the foremost among them is but one.

"Again," he huffs, lessening the distance between you just enough to invite you back.

And he thinks that perhaps he’s abusing his station over you, but when you tentatively find a hold on his gorget to steady yourself to give him another kiss—those thoughts are all but erased from his mind. It's a curious weight off his shoulders to have you initiate and to show you want him in return, especially since it's as new to you as it is for him.

Nonetheless, he can't even imagine finding a reason to stop you, so he starts blindly mouthing; trying to coordinate around the fact he's so much larger than you.

The angle is difficult, but he's willing to follow your lead. Your body is even more fragile when he's in full armour. The risk of actually hurting you is realer than ever, but he can't help the desire to wrap an gauntlet around your waist and pull you closer to him. Thankfully, you let him when he urges you to, trembling hands flitting across his chestplate like you're unsure of what, exactly, you should be holding—and he catches the tiny line between your brows smoothing out as you risk a peek. Only for you to yelp, nervously wrenching yourself back in flustered surprise upon meeting his unwavering stare.

It's as if you expected something else.

He senses he's made a mistake of some kind.

Then he remembers from the motion-picts he's not supposed to keep glaring at you when kissing.

Regardless, he studies your face, memorising the lingering want still clearly there like his life depends on it.

He pulls you in and kisses you again, just because he can, this time brief and chaste. And then he goes for a third, fourth—fifth, each time slightly longer, until finally he rears back; and when he does you push up on your toes just a little, trying to chase him, but lose the nerve; although to Cato the reason for your faltering is, frankly, irrelevant. Because just like him, you lack the practical capacity to really know what next step you should take. Still, you look down at his armour, as if there's a latch to pull that magically undoes all his wargear.

He knows he's not going to get himself out of his armour in any reasonable way or amount of time.

There's no way he's getting the satisfaction of having you on him right now—but he still wants to keep you near.

He thinks he hears you ask for something, but he's too distracted to catch it in time.

"What?" Cato scowls, "What do you want now?"

It's clear you've been struck by your own embarrassment, strung up somewhere between shy and wanton, "I.. uh..."

"Spit it out," he rumbles.

You wince, hesitant as you mumble, "You, uh... i-in me."

Cato's brain skids to a halt. And it's the gall of that request alone that has him sweeping you up off the ground and spinning you around to sit in his lap.

It's obvious you're overwhelmed at being held to the formidably larger size of himself in full-plate. But as usual, you're yet to actively complain. Using his vambrace as a leg-bar to scoop under your thighs, he folds you in his grasp—your knees pressed to your chest as you're tucked back against his pauldron and chestplate.

The angle forces the hems of your robe aside, and he can see the underside curve of your ass; along with the plump mound of your vulva under the white of your small-clothes.

Cato's suddenly offended by their existence. You didn't wear any last time, so why now? The irritation of there being one more thing between you and him is enough justification to yank at them, tearing them loose—before throwing them aside.

You grumble sourly, which he chooses to ignore.

The palm of his gauntlet smooths across your hip, and you make a small huff as you shiver, goose-bumps suddenly covering your exposed flesh.

Cato lets the pads graze closer and closer to your sex, content to watch you impatiently glare at his armoured fingers from between the gap of your thighs.

With little preamble, he's stuffing his middle in. You're already so wet it's practically a cake-walk. Your cunt swallows down each articulating segment of his armoured finger down to the knuckle. The fact he's going to have to personally scrub your slick out from between the joints, instead of a lowly serf, is infinitely worth the shrill whine he receives as tribute.

"Would that my wargear had a zipper," he breathes, and fuck, he grins behind the obscurity of his gorget at the mournful mewl that remark earns. "I'd have you on your knees sucking for all the cunted trouble you've caused me."

You're making a warp-awful attempt at keeping yourself together, high-strung as you evidently are. Little more than a minute of him pumping his finger in and out of you has you red-faced and panting. All it takes to get those heavy breaths of yours to change into proper whines is his large thumb-pad adjusting to rest on your clit, applying pressure. You jerk, reflexively trying to buck into every motion. Fighting and failing to withhold the stuffy little moans escaping you—trying to stave off the inevitable by scrambling at the thigh plating of his power armour with one hand and tugging at his couter with the other.

Some part of Cato wants to stop solely out of spite for you being so grating earlier, or some other stupid mercurial justification of his; but instead, he simply continues, letting you squirm on his fingers.

And squirm you do.

It's clear to him the tide of it all is becoming too much for you to resist. Your sandal'd feet kick out where he's got your legs secured, joining in on the struggling as it begins anew when his thumb starts circling. It's a good sign, so he adds his pointer into you to bolster the stretch, curling in; before letting his fingers fan out inside you, stretching rather than stabbing. Your hips try to stutter forward in time with the quick thrusting of his digits, broken whimpers resonating off the room's walls. He promptly stuffs down to the knuckle and curls them again—and you all but bleat his surname as you're dragged into a fast and apparently exhausting orgasm. Just knowing he's you got you beat has his erection ache where it's trapped under the suiting and plating of his navel.

Cato can't feel you clenching through all the layers separating his skin from yours, but he knows from experience that you're seizing in fits internally—tight little cunt trying to milk a load out of an Astartes cock that should've been stuffed in you.

Just to allow himself one last bit of smugness, he scissors his fingers; giving a final swirl for good measure.

The shivered sob is worth every possible future disciplinary action he'll receive.

He pulls his gauntlet away slowly, and the wet shlick of it leaving you is almost amusingly alike pulling a blade from sinew. It's a degenerate comparison, he knows, but it's true.

Nonetheless, he splays out his hand and swallows dryly, eyeing the sticky, clear liquid webbing out and thinning between each ridge of his gauntlet'd digits.

Suddenly focused entirely on the fluid on his fingers, he pulls his vambrace barring under your knees up away. Now limp, and without the support, you slide off his lap and onto the floor in a slow slump.

"Nn-ngh," You groan weakly, face-down, legs still juddering a little.

Seeing as you're preoccupied, Cato doesn't even dignify the concept of hesitation, and promptly jams his fingers in his mouth—lathing the aftermath of your orgasm from them. And Throne, the taste of your hormones make him groan. He's absolutely stunned, unsure of how to act. He's so fucking stupid, why didn't he do this earlier? He's practically drugged by the omophagic aftereffect—getting off on your second hand bliss. Some sort of fey feedback loop in his brain catalysing his next decision solely on instinct.

He clambers to the floor and gets to his knees guards, securing a mitt on your bared thigh to roll you onto your back.

Apparently boneless with afterglow, you're easy to manhandle.

You barely have the strength to do much more than crane your head up at him and whine as he arranges your thighs apart, settling on his front between them with a warp-awful clank; before lifting your legs up to rest onto either lip of his gorget.

You try to scud back on your ass suddenly, but are quickly halted when he holds you fast by the hip.

He raises a confused brow.

"I-Isn't—" you start, still gathering the scraps of your brain together so soon post-orgasm, "Isn't y-your saliva acid?"

Cato suddenly wants to cuff you on the ear, "Who the hell told you that?"

"M-Master Calgar," you mumble.

Oh, of course, the gossiping hen.

He's going to have words with the Lord Defender of Greater Ultramar the next time they meet—words like 'for fuck sakes, stop scaring the woman he's trying to eat out with talk of Betcher's gland, Marneus,' come to mind, but then Cato realises that doesn't sound like he's not fucking you, so he quickly settles on: 'stop dignifying the Ambassador's hundred-and-one insane questions.'

"Not Ultramarines," Cato manages not to snarl, "It's a vestigial organ in most of us."

Your voice is shaky as you parrot, "Most of us?"

"Yes," He grunts, and promptly buries his face in your cunt.

The disproportion in size is painfully apparent when he realises his whole damned tongue is able to drag a stripe up the entire splay of you with minimal effort.

The pitched gasp he wins out of you is pure sin, and he's on the brink of swooning; but then you're running your trap again.

"Please, d-don't tell me you're one that can spit acid—" you manage to warble, seemingly still stuck on the topic.

Cato sighs as he's forced to pull away from your vulva, "I think you're forgetting I had my tongue on your tonsils in the library."

"Th-that's different," you stammer. "That's not as sensitive."

A long, unimpressed deadpan paints itself on his face.

"So," he starts with a bated hiss, "And let me be perfectly clear in this—you believe your vagina is more susceptible to burns than your mouth?"

Your face transforms into a strange mix of embarrassed and angry.

"I didn't say that—"

"Yes, you did," Cato grumbles.

"Did not," you huff.

"You—you just fucking did," he snaps, frustrated enough that he can feel one of the veins at his temple bulge. "The implication is obvious, you insufferable little whore."

You snort, but stay silent.

The argument appears, for all intents and purposes, to be finished.

"Did not," you say abruptly once more, pouting.

Cato's eyes roll back in his skull as he grits his teeth.

"Throne of Terra, if you don't drop the subject, acid in your cunt will be the least of your worries," he all but snarls, and that apparently quietens you enough that he can get back to lapping at you—the flat of his tongue running over your clit and earning a jolt.

He wraps his lips around the pink little nub and sucks. And that's all it apparently takes to make up for his amateur career in the practice.

You siphon down a sharp breath and let out a garbled cry, hips canting forward into his mouth—to which he obligingly stuffs his tongue into your slick entrance.

There's a satisfaction well beyond simple pleasure that swamps him at the way your thighs shake either side of his head. His own breath is hot about him, stuffy and dizzying; and the skin pressed against his cheeks is warm and smooth.

You're panting when he goes back to lapping over your clit, perching yourself up on a bent elbow and reaching out a hand.

Your fingers card through the messed brown hair atop his head. And he stiffens without realising—but he realises something: like this, the touch is ecstasy—pure, golden ecstasy. Every bit of higher thought in his head evaporates when you stroke him again.

A long, rumbling subvocal moan tears from him.

The infrasound vibration makes you buck weakly into his mouth again, teary eyed afore him as he adjusts his grip on you and crawls closer.

He's suddenly acutely aware that in this new, much more prone position, he's able to grind his body armour into his groin guard pressed on the floor. And as soon as the action bears results—namely a scorching burr of pleasure racing up his spine—he's deadset on rutting against the ground like a slavering beast.

He's frotting himself at a pace so rabid it'd be cruel to subject your cunt to. It's brutal, and the harsh scraping sound of plasteel on steel only further proves that. It's just frantic lust—he's desperate.

It's complete insanity how close to finishing he is so quickly.

Not as close as you, though.

He can feel how your legs jump with each pass of his tongue; and then you're unraveling in front of his very eyes.

"I-I can't—I can't, S-Sicarius, I-I—" You ramble, dazed, trying to get away as he works you right through it, sobbing and oversensitive while he's rutting himself closer and closer to his own end.

It all comes to a head when your fingers dig into his hair, tugging—and his brain is overrun with static. A drawn out groan scathes from his maw as any sense of rhythm scatters like light through a prism. For a fraction of a second, the pleasure is serene.

Then it's abject agony, he feels—he feels like Roboute Guilliman himself has just taken a running start and kicked him in the balls.

"F-Fuck–ing—gh—" he chokes, vision swimming, straining against the tide of the torment. His back arches up, and he curls inward on himself; white-hot pain clocking his nervous system into overdrive. Every muscle in his abdomen is doused in acid. He's tolerated being shot, stabbed, burnt without so much as blinking—but this is an entirely new and entirely different sort of wound. It's like he's pissing promethium. It's—it's the catheter, he realises. He'd forgotten about the bloody catheter jammed up his cock.

Through the searing ordeal, he manages to force his armour's facilities to finally abide his impulses and dose him with a pain dampener.

And then everything's fine.

He opens eyes he wasn't aware he'd closed and finds your face has suddenly gotten far closer to his.

"S-Sicarius?" You stammer, and there's an honest panic in your voice. "Sicarius, p-please, please—a-are you okay?"

He realises he's on his back, and you're sitting beside him, half draped on his chestplate, frantically trying to figure out what's wrong with him to no avail.

You've leaned in so close he can feel your rushed breathing.

"I'm fine," Cato groans, and you sputter out a sigh.

"I-I don't know what happened, I-I—" you're still wildly confused and raving, and he inhales deeply; only to be greeted by the sour animal stink of fear practically dripping from you.

Cato rolls his tongue around inside his mouth and cringes knowingly at the foaming side-effect of the chem he'd self-administered, the acrid taste mixed with your slick is certainly not an ideal cocktail.

The sincerity of concern behind your reaction is baffling. He's not made of glass, for fuck sakes—and he's a bit pissy about the fact you'd actually fallen victim to the idea of him suffering some grievous injury so easily. But he supposes where there's a will of baseline overreaction, there's a way.

"You're acting like a child, woman. Pull yourself together," he sighs hoarsely, hoping the comment jars you out of your hysteria—or at the very least scares you off.

It does exactly neither, and you sidle in closer and rest your cheek on his jaw.

It’s an action so overwhelmingly horribly affectionate that it would’ve been a crime to not press into it with a lean of his head. Or, at least, that's the half-assed justification he tells himself.

Because he's loving enduring your attention, not seeking it; and therefore only humouring you when he lifts a hand and settles the wide splay of it on your flank as a comfort.

He shouldn't be, but he is.

#warhammer 40k x reader #warhammer 40k #reader insert #warhammer fanfic #cato sicarius #space marine x reader #cato sicarius x reader #writing #ultramarines #cato 'im going to kill the next person i fucking see' sicarius #*squeaky noise*#ambassador 'omg hiiiii'#FUCKKK #anyways #roboute guilliman #i am so fucking sorry you have to deal with this shit baby girl #also LMFAO I DO THINK CALGAR LOOOOVES A GOOD BITCHING SESSION

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bitchslapblastoids · 4 months ago

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Prompted by your post about dnp inviting audience interaction: it /is/ really brave, and so interesting! I haven't been watching them for long at all and one of the biggest things that just drew me in and deeply fascinated me about them is how so much of their work (not just on stage) is in some way a conversation/interaction with their audience and the more you watch the more you notice it. No wonder its easy to be parasocial about them and about the Phandom itself!

To me, at least, they seem to be the sort of performers/creators that need a relatively high level of audience interaction in order to be inspired or for their work to feel meaningful. Like, im absolutely sure they could also create things without this close relationship with their audience but it seems to be what their naturally drawn towards? Obviously the problem has been in maintaining boundaries within that but it seems like that's going better now than at some points in the past, which makes me really happy for everyone!

Sorry about the long yap, this is so interesting to me and I just needed to express it a little

(original post referenced) yes!!! i love this!!! so beautifully worded! no need to apologize at all - i am in such hearty agreement and actually think about this so often. i think the engagement with their audience is their superpower, and it runs so deep. what was one of dan's favorite things about phil before he met him? phil's interactive adventure videos, in which he was creating an interactive experience for his viewers.

when they film pinof1 together, what are they doing? they're answering an audience-submitted q&a. the audience interaction is literally baked into their foundation! <3

2010, dan's uni dorm. what's displayed behind him on his wall? art and letters sent to him by viewers. he films danmail vids where he opens and reacts to said art and letters and personally thanks the senders.

for years and years and years, what's at the end of every phil video? fanart! draw phil naked! (in retrospect literally so weird lol but shhh)

the ongoing avalanche of vyous and younows and tumblr reblogs/follows and responding to yt comments and retweets and and and. so much interaction. the videos directly engaging with twitter and tumblr creations. they see us, they know us, they get us.

their first book? included a double-page spread with dozens of pieces of phanart.

every single one of their tours has multiple essential audience interaction components, and even more brilliantly, with multiple different access points that are perfectly calibrated to their audience. too shy to speak up? send in a submission ahead of time. want to be a part of the masses? shout something out during the audience participation segments! and there's always the likelihood that they'll include fanart in the show itself, casually mention an actual actively popular fic, throw in an ancient phwedding manip, or just build whole segments of the show around our tropes and the world that we created with them. all of that keeps things exciting and engaging on stage, bc you never know exactly what's going to come next. but it also keeps their audience feeling seen, valued, and like co-creators in a way.

When you look at the other britcrew and big yters from the 2010s, they simply weren't generating that ongoing, authentic conversation with their audiences. their approach followed the simple format of: i post, you watch. and then it became: i post, you watch, then i try and sell you something while i call you my 'community' because you are all watching me and sometimes you talk to one another in the comments. but it's not like zalfie or joe and casper etc. were chiming in on the convos too, or at least not in any meaningful way. it wasn't a community in the same way.

dan and phil truly built community. i think communities require mutual exchange, communication, a sense of value and worth, commonly agreed upon truths, shared experiences, touchstones of connection, and leaders who have integrity. i know this is all starting to sound a little lofty, but i really do think dan and phil are good humans who have worked hard to wield their power and influence responsibly and compassionately. they set the tone for us, constructed this world, paid attention to what landed for us, how we responded to things, everything that we were up to in response to what they were up to. they listened. they made us feel seen and celebrated and appreciated, and in turn we continued to celebrate them. they created weird inside jokes, we adopted them, then we all shared the weird inside jokes. they existed, we created our own language and lore and encyclopedia in response, and now there's a whole stage show about it.

that's how you get people sticking around for 15 years. that's how you get people to actually want to spend money on you. and yeah, some more boundaries at times couldn't have hurt. they fostered a sense of proximity and entitlement that obviously put them in harm's way. but i'd say ultimately what they've manage to do has been a net good for them and a tremendous success.

you raised such a good point that it seems to be what they are naturally drawn towards. i think it's because they, too, were fangirls. phil was writing buffy fic. dan was running a lost wiki. they both understood the power of online fan community before they were the titans of their own. they get it, they get us <3

#dan and phil #don't think there are any tit specific spoilers in this #me yapping #you said 'let me submit a nice lil anon message' i said 'HOLD MY BEER'

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sos717 · 6 months ago

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i guess you don’t answer anymore but i’m hoping you at least read this because it’s genuine and i feel like i have nowhere else to post this. i just want someone to hear me. ignore this if it’s too long. i want to thank you for your posts. they are the only writings that have truly resonated with me ever since i discovered the law, neville, states, being, whatever we call this thing. but i’ll be honest i’m giving up today. i discovered the ‘law of attraction’ in 2019 when i was 18 years old. it is now getting to the last quarter of 2024 and i am 23 where i’ve evolved in understanding to where i found ‘nondualism’. i went from law of attraction -> law of assumption & neville goddard -> robotic affirming -> mindset fixing & joe dispensa -> states & edward art -> nondualism. however… i have never manifested a single thing in my life. i used to be filled with anxiety when i said this. fearing these words would cause it to keep going on but i don’t even want to fear anymore. it’s just the truth. your posts taught me that i don’t have to fear my words anymore anyways. i’ve had a dream for a long time. i don’t believe i will ever reach this dream anymore. along with that dream i also just really wanted good for my family and i. you know the basics like financial freedom, happiness, mended relationships. but throughout everything i’ve learned i could never make it work and i’m just done. i guess i will return to living a normal life and just hoping i make it. i hope i find happiness or just.. anything. i’m just letting go of it all because i feel like things shouldn’t be this hard. even going to caleb’s channel and watching his recent ‘your manifestation isn’t taking long, you are’ video…. i’m just… exhausted. i just dont know how to do this and i don’t think i can take life anymore anyways. but yeah i just wanted to say thank you. even though i could never find success, you taught me who I Am. and i’ll forever be grateful for your wisdom even though you’re a bit younger than me. i hope you find continued success and live a happy life. sincerely

THIS IS JUST THE FIRST PART TO THE HUGE POST, PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME

After what felt like months away from tumblr I really dove into self-inquiry fully, and of course still am, and I promised you guys a mega post so here’s the initial information so far. There is more to come.

IM SORRY IF THERE ARE ERRORS IN GRAMMAR OR SMTH I WROTE THIS AT MANY DIFFERENT MOMENTS THROUGHOUT THE DAY!! FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS, ETC BUT PLS DONT ASK BY RESPONDING TO THIS POST, ITLL CAUSE SO MUCH SPAM ON THE FEED AND MY ASKS PAGE

Hello! Yes I have started looking back into my inbox (THERE ALLOT OF ASKS 😭😭🫶) but I absolutely plan on answering as many as possible, and because your post resonated with how I used to feel, I want to answer yours first.

So to begin with, It makes me so happy to know that what I’ve written has some kind of affect (that being positive). I can’t remember if I told you guys how old I was but I must have cus you seem to know 😭😭, yes I’m 19 we’re very close in age, this moment in life is when allot of us who figure out this stuff lean into it more because we realize how much of a leg up we have if we just “apply” the teachings this early on.

So first what I want to say to you is, no, your not giving up on a dream and neither are you going to live a normal life, I’ll make sure of that, this beautiful world that we step into gives us so much insight on what we inherently are. But I need to remind you and everyone else, this is not some big secret that has to be practiced, it’s a look at what we are and always will be. You have purpose and you deserve to be happy and enjoy a life that’s easy and fulfilling. I apologize in advance because this is going to be a pretty long post!! 🫶🫶

Let’s get rid of the labels and titles we’ve given these understandings as if they are for someone to learn and master. No one masters manifestation, no one will ever master manifestation and I truly don’t care for how many “success stories” they have, it doesn’t hold proving value of what they are (notice how I didn’t say who), we are not who’s, but that’s for later in the post.

The reason I’ve stepped away from the concept of manifesting is because it is inherently lack and separation based. No matter the teaching, they all seem to glorify the idea of getting and achieving which puts great pressure on success stories and all that rubbish. (Not me turning British) 😝😝, okay sorry, so yeah this also goes for nondualism, I don’t associate a title with what I learn, it’s not NonDualism it’s actually just self discovery in disguise of a teaching. But for this exact reason I don’t think to myself “I need to learn NonDualism better”, nononooooo I made this mistake wayyy to much due to the sole fact that I came in with the expectation that this would now teach me the secrets of manifesting. This is kind of the set up to more desire and lack, which is actually the opposite of the self-realization “journey”.

So, when you say you have never manifested anything in your life, I say this with incredible pleasure, that this is impossible, I know I know, before you start thinking to yourself that youve heard this before but I don’t think people go that in depth as to what that even means. So, your life and your problems, are not actually problems.

Self-realization is not the journey for the person to become consciousness, but to understand that you ARE consciousness to begin with. You does no reference a someone, but “ “.

This is going to be, quite a post so PLEASE hang in there. And I just want to add in, this is still not a seperate being trying to understand that it’s connected to conciousness, no, you as conciousness, infinite knowing, are so involved with the content that you appear as, you’ve tricked yourself into thinking that you are just 1 thing of the content. Let me use my first example.

We have given ourselves the greatest interpretation and key to knowing ourself, and that’s dreaming.

Every night, we sleep, HOORRAAYYYY, now let’s get into the details because this is where the magic happens and it clicks.

Take the moment before a dream appears, recognize that when the eyes are closed there’s this presence. Not the darkness, the presence. Something, but not a thing.

Stay here and forget the rest of the world exists for a moment. Now there is only this presence, it’s knowing, it’s being right? Now there’s no actual material but regardless, it is, something. This isn’t something out of this world it’s literally, you. From this, knowing or no-thingness, comes expressions, absolutely infinite potential, this is registered as a dream, but, before the dream in any way can be experienced, there always has to be some type of interpreter/lens, this comes in the form a person or better yet, senses. Of course, there’s nothing to the senses or the person but whatever it’s formulated from, which was that presence/knowing. The activity of this infinite potential that is the knowing, (you asleep) appears, only with the help of a pov/sight.

Nonetheless, it plays out, it plays stories of absolutely anything, for no reason at all, and as it does, we get lost to it, it starts to become real, and without even realizing it, it’s no longer a dream but something we’re experiencing, now you are the character in the dream and you naturally play out the dialogue and storyline and explore the fields, magic towers, and laugh and dance and make friends, and then you wake up.

When you wake up, you recognize “oh, nothing was actually happening”, now of course, when your the person in the dream it is very real, but even then, is it? Knowing what you know, there wasn’t actually a place with dialogue, no character of its own experience or life, no actual forests or fields and magic, no one actually laughing and dancing or friends, but simply the appearance of that. The illusion.

And it’s not that it’s only a formulation of you when you realize it is, but it always is, the dream doesn’t only become an illusion or “fake” when you wake up, it’s naturally just fake, REGARDLESS of how it seems to be. And regardless we sleep every night knowing that we’ll forget it’s a dream.

So I think you can see where I’m headed with this, I’m going to use the example Rupert Spira uses but twist it a bit.

You go to sleep in Australia and dream yourself in the streets of Paris, and you take on the identity of John, you don’t actually become John and experience the streets of Paris.

Now, John drinks coffee and he feels the sunlight warm his skin, sees the greenery, feels the wind, all of it. But despite the way it all seems the sunlight, the sensations that John has, is not actually real, and neither is John. John isn’t actually feeling anything, he doesn’t exist and there is no Paris being traveled. And it’s not John that realizes/awakens to the understanding that he’s fake and this is all a dream, it’s you, asleep in Australia that realizes it as you modulate/formulate as the streets of Paris, the coffee, and the greenery, and John, understand?

The activity of that presence, if you recall when we talked about closing your eyes, formulated as something that seemed so real, and that doesn’t give any reality to the dream itself, because there is no separating the knowing from the content known. Without the “space” for it to appear or form from, how on earth would there be the content? A bigger step forward is to realize that there isn’t even an actual dream occurring but it’s all the self knowing presence of, well, knowing. I want to add something very important before moving on.

Knowing does not happen for the purpose of pleasure, we naturally deconstruct false ideas like this as we go, but something you MUST understand about the nature of existence is, none of this is appearing for the purpose of ant experience, there isn’t actually an experience. No one is enjoying nor hating the illusion, it is simply an appearance.

In the same way that the aware/presence before the dream appears from it simply is, in this way, we are. It’s like saying the TV screen plays a movie and experiences it, or does it for the purpose of experience, no that’s silly, knowing has no inherent motive, it is, you (infinite knowing) don’t “happen” for a purpose, never mind happen at all, you are, and in this do you take form of something, your self aware nature of course knows the content of your own being, but that doesn’t mean the illusion can enjoy itself, or that you enjoy or experience the illusion, it’s just a plain appearance, and that’s it.

For example, when you close your eyes on this next demonstration, truly try to grasp the essence of what I’m trying to explain.

Bring from the nothingness/knowing when you close your eyes, a blue vase, know it in every aspect you can, incorporate every sense you can (even taste if your a little freaky 🫦🫦😭) and make it as present as possible. After you open your eyes I have a question for you. (I’m serious, do the damn practice it’ll help you) please take as much time you need to truly get in there (not too long I can’t wait all day)

okay hey, your back, now answer me this, from what did this immersive appearance take reality from? You and I know that there’s no actual vase despite its presence, no matter the vibrant or dull colors, no matter the feel, rough or glossy, its taste 🫦😭, its feel, etc. So what was the substance that formulated this? If you guessed knowing, your soooooo correct, if you didn’t it’s okay you get brownie points 🫶. But yes, now I need you to understand this verrrry clearly, the vase was not real!!!! Yet it appeared that way! This is AN ILLUSION SURPIRISISIEIEIEIEIEIEISISBWHH- yes. No matter how much you want to convince yourself and go back to the vase and its appearance and its feel or colors or any aspect of it, it wasn’t ACTUALLY happening and that means it didn’t take place for anyone or anywhere!!! All there was present was knowing, from knowing forms vase and every seemingly alternate way that it is known, feeling is a form of knowing, literally every sense is just a form of knowing. Every sense that was “used” to understand the vase was all just aspects and appearances of knowing, the color, the sounds, the taste, the feels, they didn’t formulate anywhere else, but nonetheless appeared as immersive and real because YOU BECAME FOCUSED ON THE CONTENT OF THE APPEARANCE RATHER THAN RECOGNIZE THAT IT WAS JUST APPEARANCE. And even though the content of the appearance you formed as became the focus, it still didn’t change the objective fact that there wasn’t someone actually there and experiencing it in any way.

The knowing in/on which appearances formulate is not something different than the appearance, there is nothing to the illusion but its reality, and its reality is knowing. In this way, the illusion couldn’t even be described as something real or taking place, as if it could exist apart from the source of it.

Knowing this is also knowing there is no such thing as the knowing OF, we never know of things or of experiences as if they are something seperate and exist seperatley from knowing itself, that’s literally impossible. Moving forward

You are not the person/character, and it’s not that you are a limited being and you have to wake up to the idea that you are infinite knowing, you have to realize that you were never something seperate, and that this is simply the modulation of your being, and it’s not a someone it’s more of a something.

Let’s starts stabilizing this.

To all of the experiences across centuries, theres one constant amongst the billions of people who’ve lived and are now and that is, I Am. We might not know for certain about anything else ever in this entire universe, and we might not even know who or what we are but for a fact we can say, yes, I am.

There’s no true word that can describe the infinite essence of being, so we use knowing or conciousness or god, all completely the same.

So, to every experience, without an ounce of doubt, there can be the claim, I am. This is knowing, and only from knowing comes the statement, because we must know we are in order to claim that we are. I think something that can capture this is a newborn, imagine yourself to be newly born, mere seconds I mean, eyes closed. You have no understand of anything, no thoughts, no memories, no identity, your pure experience is simply being/knowing, and I don’t mean the action of knowing, that’s not a real thing. Knowing is inherent, you don’t force it.

Going back to experiences. Any experience that is recognized, any seeing, and hearing, tasting touching, and of course feeling, is assumed to be the experience of the body and this is therefore falsely established as “me”, in doing so, we forget our true nature of freedom and limit our understanding and abilities to the limitations of the body.

I’m now going to help you realize the body is an interpreter, and not of a world that’s happening somewhere in time and space, but that the world is the interpretation/modulation/illusion/dream/appearance of our shared infinite being, AFTER being recognized through the interpretations, (sensations and perceptions). This also means that it’s in no way an actual measurement to what you fully are.

What experience is there to seeing? Better yet let me narrow it down, there is nothing to seeing as if there is someone doing the seeing. Seeing simply is. There’s no one to do it, just what is. There is sight, how is there an acknowledgment of the sight/seeing? There must be something to it that gives the understanding “oh I’m seeing this”. (Hint, it’s the same thing that let you know, that “I Am”). Knowing, yes, not knowing as an action, that’s not real, people don’t know, knowing is the essence of what we are (we are not people). But just wait for that. So all there is to sight is knowing, and I don’t think I have to do this but you can say the same about absolutely every other sense, because every single “experience” absolutely requires knowing. Without knowing, “experience” never is, I think we can all acknowledge that.

There is no such thing as the experience of being a human, Why are we deciding that this is what’s it’s like to be humans, we know humans we acknowledge humans but there is no such thing as being a human, in the same way that there’s no true way that there is something to being a fox or a bird or a rock, it’s only with labels are these ideas decided.

The only thing you’ll be able to muster up is memories, emotions, etc, but that doesn’t make it the inherent experience of being a human. Our first and only experience of what we are is knowing, and then knowing that we are, that’s it. In the same way that a babies first experience is not “I am a baby” or “I am a human”, rather it’s just knowing. If being human was our nature, that’s all we’d recognize, and from the very beginning. Our experience does not actually change from being/knowing, we simply forget that there is the knowing, and decide to focus on the body to be “me” or “human”.

You don’t need senses to know you are. Knowing is something unimaginable. Go ahead and try to find it by closing your eyes or even with them open. Can you grab or touch the knowing. Can you recognize its dimensions or what its appearance is? How old or young is it?

Do me a favor and find the edge where knowing starts and stops.

Let me know when you find it because you never will.

Even when you try, it’s only conciousness itself that searches for its own parameters.

By recognizing that your truly not the body, or this person you as knowing have pretended to become, the made up problems of the person disappear, well actually, you realize that there is no person that has problems, only an idea. Only the idea that I am someone and something is happening to me, I am something seperate and need saving. There isn’t actually a seperate self, the seperate self is the activity that you as knowing are, when you become involved with the content and forget your true nature. And what’s truly the main takeaway from this is that, even when it seems like you’ve lost it and now you have to restart and understand it all over again, you as knowing haven’t gone anywhere, your the one pretending to be something lost, and not on purpose, but because you involve yourself too heavily in the appearances without recognizing where they originate from.

From what we know so far, I hope in some way you’re able to recognize that there is no one doing manifestations and having success stories. You ARE the manifestation and it will NEVER be any other way, whether we recognize it or not, that’s the beauty. So no matter if we go on about this appearance of life and say we don’t get it and move on, you as conciousness will continue to play the roles, because there is no off switch to this.

I’m hope this has been able to start untying the blinds over your “eyes” and you’re starting to somewhat understand the truth of what you/we are. This is only the beginning and it’s only going to get more incredible and beautiful from here. But for now I’m shleeepy hehehe, I’ll talk to you soon, never ever give up on your dreams!!!! 🫶❤️❤️

#blommp717 #nonduality #manifestation #manifest #non dualism #nondualism #advaita vedanta #master manifestor #law of assumption #law of attraction

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swrkn · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, I'm also French so if there are any mistakes, sorry. It would be cool if you could redo a story about Oliver in Windbreaker. Maybe with him introducing his girlfriend to his team (I haven't gotten to this passage yet so I don't really know the context) or others, I just want a story with him because he's sorely lacking one, sniff TuT.

The Homescreen Surprise

Oliver x fem!reader

Genre ; sfw ; fluff

Author note ; Hii, in honor of oliver and poel comeback, i’ll write this little story for him :) and it’s true that there are not a lot of stories about oliver but don’t worry about that, im planning on writing more ;) (Premiere fois que je crois une personne française sur tumblr j’en ai presque les larmes aux yeux 🥲)

It was a simple quiet afternoon at the headquarters of the scavenger crew. Veil, Oliver and Clover sat around a small table, sipping drinks and chatting about upcoming races. Clover was sprawled across her chair, scrolling through her phone, while Veil meticulously reviewed the team’s schedule on his tablet.

“Oliver, what’s the route for tomorrow’s ?” Clover asked, not looking up.

Oliver fumbled with his bag, pulling out his phone to double-check. As he turned the screen on, Clover’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of it from across the table. Her straw froze mid-sip.

“Wait a second!” she exclaimed, nearly knocking over her drink. “Oliver! Is that—?”

Oliver’s face turned bright red as he scrambled to lock his phone, but it was too late. Clover had already seen it.

“Your homescreen is… a girl! A really pretty girl!” she declared, pointing at him accusingly.

Veil’s eyes narrowed as he set down his tablet. “What is she talking about?”

Clover leaned forward, practically bouncing with excitement. “Oliver’s wallpaper is a photo of him and some girl! Who is she, huh? Spill!”

Oliver sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. “Okay, okay, fine,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Her name is Y/N. She’s… my girlfriend.”

Clover gasped dramatically, clapping her hands together. “I knew it! You’ve been holding out on us! How long has this been going on?”

Oliver hesitated. “Uh… a few months.”

“A few months?” Veil repeated, his tone sharp. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“I was going to!” Oliver protested. “I just… wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

Clover leaned over, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, I think it’s adorable. And she’s gorgeous, by the way. How did you manage that, Oliver?”

“Thanks, Clover,” Oliver muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Veil leaned back in his chair, studying Oliver intently. “So why is she your homescreen? That’s pretty bold for you.”

Oliver glanced at his phone, his face softening at the thought. “It’s one of my favorite pictures of us. She said it’s hers too, so… I just put it up. It makes me happy.”

Veil’s expression shifted ever so slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fair enough. But we’re meeting her soon. If you’re serious about this, we need to know who she is.”

Oliver blinked. “You want to meet her?”

“Of course!” Clover chirped. “She’s basically part of the team now. Plus, I have to make sure she knows all about your embarrassing habits.”

“Clover!”

Veil chuckled lightly, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “You brought this on yourself, Oliver. Next practice, bring her along. If she can put up with you, I’m sure she’ll survive us too.”

As Veil walked toward the door, Clover patted Oliver on the shoulder, her grin as mischievous as ever. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on her. Probably.”

Oliver groaned but couldn’t help smiling. Knowing his team wanted to meet Y/N made him nervous, but it also felt right. After all, they were family—chaotic, meddling and loud, but family nonetheless.

The Team Veil headquarters buzzed with energy as Veil, Clover, and the rest of the crew prepared for their visitor. The tools were neatly arranged, bikes were polished, and the usually cluttered space looked almost presentable for once. Clover, sitting cross-legged on the couch, was practically vibrating with excitement.

“I can’t believe Oliver’s actually bringing his girlfriend here,” she said for the tenth time. “It’s like seeing a unicorn or something.”

Veil glanced up from his workbench, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen someone date before. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Clover rolled her eyes. “It’s a huge deal. Oliver’s been so secretive about her, and now we finally get to meet her. Aren’t you at least a little curious?”

“I’m curious about how she’ll handle meeting us,” Veil said with a faint smirk.

Before Clover could respond, the sound of footsteps approached the door. Oliver stepped in, looking slightly nervous but trying his best to act casual. Beside him was Y/N, smiling warmly and exuding a calm confidence.

“Hey, guys,” Oliver said, glancing around. “We’re here.”

“Y/N!” Clover exclaimed, hopping off the couch and rushing over. “Hi! Oh my gosh, I’ve been dying to meet you. You’re even prettier than Oliver said.”

Y/N laughed, shaking Clover’s hand. “Hi, Clover. It’s so nice to meet you too. Oliver’s told me a lot about you.”

“Has he?” Clover asked, her grin widening. “Good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” Y/N replied.

Veil walked over, his arms crossed as he studied Y/N. His sharp gaze moved from her to Oliver and back again. “So, you’re Y/N.”

Y/N nodded, holding out her hand. “That’s me. And you must be Veil. Oliver talks about you all the time.”

Veil shook her hand firmly, his expression unreadable. “Does he? Hope he didn’t exaggerate.”

Y/N chuckled. “Not at all. He said you’re the most serious one here, and I can see that’s true.”

Clover snickered. “Yup, that’s Veil. Always the tough one.”

Veil gave her a side-eye but then turned back to Y/N. “Well, you’re here. Let’s see if you can keep up with us.”

Oliver frowned. “Veil, come on. She’s not here to—”

“It’s fine,” Y/N interrupted, smiling at Oliver before looking back at Veil. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what you guys are all about.”

Clover clapped her hands. “I knew I’d like you! Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Y/N let Clover lead her on a tour of the garage, laughing at her enthusiastic explanations of every little detail. Meanwhile, Oliver stayed behind with Veil, who leaned against his bike, watching the two girls interact.

“She’s not bad,” Veil said after a moment.

Oliver sighed in relief. “You really think so?”

Veil shrugged. “She’s confident, doesn’t seem fazed by us, and Clover likes her. That’s a good start. Just don’t screw it up.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Veil smirked. “Because we know you.”

By the time Y/N and Clover returned, Y/N had already won the younger girl over completely.

“She’s amazing, Oliver,” Clover announced. “You’re lucky she even likes you.”

“Clover!” Oliver groaned, though Y/N just laughed and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Thanks for letting me visit,” Y/N said to Veil. “I know how important this team is to Oliver, and I wanted to see it for myself. You guys are doing something really special here.”

Veil nodded, his respect for her growing. “You’re welcome anytime. Just don’t let Clover drag you into too much trouble.”

“Hey!” Clover protested, but her grin gave her away.

As the crew settled back into their usual rhythm, Y/N fit in seamlessly, chatting with Clover, admiring the bikes, and even offering to help organize a few things. Watching her from across the room, Oliver couldn’t help but smile.

For the first time, it felt like all the pieces of his life were coming together.

✵

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker webtoon #wind breaker webtoon #windbreaker manhwa x reader #windbreaker manhwa #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #windbreaker webtoon x reader #windbreaker (yongseok jo)#windbreaker oliver #oliver windbreaker #windbreaker oliver x reader #oliver x reader #swrkn

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hammed-burger08 · 5 months ago

Text

| Selcouth | Chapter one: space station |

Platonic! Yandere! alien x reader

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, violence, death

Summary: While recovering a space capsule your astronaut team discovers an intelligent life form that seems to be a little too attached to you.

Word count: 1,246

A/n: Hey! This is my first ever story that I have posted to tumblr, please go easy on it. Anyway thank you for reading <3

“Datalog: entry number 1

Our team of astronauts has finally made it near the orbit of Grannus. Hopefully, the capsule containing the samples taken from Grannus arrives soon. I have a feeling that—" Just as you were about to end your data entry, your favorite person on board interjects.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" You turn around, jumping a little while doing so.

"Oh hey, David! You scared me." David is one of the two people you are currently stationed with inside of the White Sparrow, working as a pilot. He is the only person on this ship you actually enjoy having a conversation with, which isn't saying much, but you really do appreciate having him near you.

"My bad, girly," David replies with a disingenuous tone, laughing a little while he says it. This is one of the reasons why you absolutely love having him around; he always makes you laugh even if it's at the expense of you being teased—which it often is. Not to mention, David is a gorgeous man. You don't feel any attraction to him, but you can admit that he is beautiful. David is a brunette with brown eyes, tan skin, and huge muscles. And by huge muscles, you mean HUGE muscles; seriously, you've seen the man pick up 300 pounds of equipment like it's nothing.

"What's with the new addition of data logs?" David releases his hold from your shoulder, giving you a curious look.

"I want to document everything about this trip, seeing as we could make a huge scientific breakthrough."

"Understandable, however, don't you think you could use other methods of documenting like, um, I don't know, typing on a computer?" With a curious look shifting to an awkward one, David rubs the back of his neck.

"I mean, I have no issue with the data logs, it's just that if the wicked witch of the west heard that, she would flip her shit," he says, trying to explain his last statement.

"Wicked witch of the west? You mean Isla?" Isla was the other person on the ship, working as the technician. Both of you disliked her; however, David disliked her much less than you. It's not like you hated the woman—in fact, you respected her—it's just that she would often belittle you for your attitude (she hated everyone with a positive outlook on life). She was the kind of person to go out of her way and look for any reason to yell at you. You could literally just be sitting there, and she would pull something out of thin air to throw at your face.

"Yes, as if that wasn't obvious already."

"Bro, you can't say that! What if she hears you? I don't wanna be turned into a frog because of your dumbness!"

“Im too pretty to be a frog” you hear David mutter.

"You're so full of yourself," you huff, rolling your eyes.

"Anyway, we should probably get to working before she gets on us." Sighing, David begins to make his way out of the living quarters and into his stationed area.

"Right." You follow him until you inevitably part ways, you going to the medical/research side of the space station and David going to the control room.

It's only 20 minutes later when you hear the devil herself start to lose her temper with you.

"What do you think you're doing!" Isla loudly exclaims. You literally were not doing anything; in fact, you were just passing through her station.

"Nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why do I see you tampering with my things?" You're starting to believe this woman is actually delusional.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can very clearly see you destroying my things," she says with an attitude as if you just dropped a bomb on her work station.

"I literally have not touched anything," giving her a dumbfounded look, you turn to start making your way back to your station.

"Whatever, just leave. If I find out that any of my things are missing, I'm reporting you." Did she literally just tell you to leave even though you were already doing so? Did she actually just accuse you of stealing her things? What is her problem?

"Whatever you say, man." Not wanting to pick a fight, you quicken your pace and make your leave. Despite Isla's horrible personality and overall attitude, she was a very beautiful woman. Isla is a thin, tall brunette with striking blue eyes. She has tan skin and an award-winning smile.

While leaving, you catch a look at one of Isla's monitors. It shows a red blinking dot rapidly approaching the station. You see her turn and give you a look as if you caused it. You were about to question what it was, but you quickly didn't. You already know questioning her won't do you any good, so you go to David. David explains that it's the capsule you and your team have been trying to get your hands on for the past 2 months.

"Datalog: entry number 2

According to our radars, the capsule is headed off track and is rapidly heading towards our location. Isla is currently getting the space station ready to accommodate the capsule." Ending the data log, you look over to Isla's annoyed face. She clearly didn't enjoy you having data logs, but she will just have to deal with it. Slowly, the capsule docks at the end of the space station, locking in place and securing itself on board.

"Great work out there, Isla!" you exclaim, giving her a thumbs up. Isla just stared at you with a bored expression.

"…" You sat there for a good ten seconds waiting for any type of response from Isla, just to get nothing.

"Fantastic job out there, Isla! I knew we could count on you!" David shouts while walking through the door.

"Thank you, David." Wooowwwwww, she really told him thank you even though you basically said the same thing. It's obvious who the favorite is.

Making your way up to the capsule, you begin to unlatch the door. Stepping through the capsule, you look around at the samples the robot on Grannus collected.

"What do we have here?" you say, paying close attention to a certain glass box. It looked like it was moving.

"No fucking way! Oh my god! No fucking way!!!" You shout, running towards the box, missing the nasty look Isla was giving you.

"What is that thing?" Isla says, sounding absolutely disgusted.

"I have no idea," you answer, feeling as though you were on cloud nine. You quickly begin to pick the box up and set it on a table that didn't have anything else on it. The creature in the box was not like anything you have ever seen before. In the middle of its body (?) there seemed to be a closed lily-looking shape that was white. Going out from the middle of the creature, there were four central appendages, all reaching a span of about 21 centimeters. Connecting those appendages was an almost translucent film of cloth-like membrane. In fact, all of the creature seemed to be made of cloth.

"Should we contact the people back on Earth?" you question.

"Yeah, but the signal won't reach them for another 2 weeks," David answered after not speaking for a while.

"I'll get to that right now because whatever that thing is freaks me out," Isla says, walking out of the capsule looking as though she was going to puke.

"Your loss," you mutter.

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere monster #aleins #yandere alien #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere oc

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harrysgal · 20 days ago

Text

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (8)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

Hello! I am very sorry for the way I vanished from tumblr, real life knocked me down for a few months and it wasn’t easy to get back on my feet. But I’m doing well now and really excited to keep telling this story. Thank you to those who sent messages checking in, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to answer those (I like to read them from time to time, tbh lol). Also, because it’s been so long I’m not doing any official taglist for part 8. If you want to be added for part 9, let me know. Thank you, A.

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 7 // MASTERLIST

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 8) — CHICAGO

liked by bestfriend, annetwist, _basselin and 85,107 others

yourinstagram CHICAGO!!! hiii!! good morning!! im back and ive missed youuu <33 honestly, cant wait to go outside and see you again. unfortunately tho im too tired to leave my room rn and also im mad at myself for waking up too late for breakfast…. so i decided to embrace the day off and be fully irresponsible. ice cream in bed at 10:30 in the morning it is. sightseeing some other day and time it is as well. hope you understand. sincerely, yn.

view all 7,015 comments

user11 lol i mean it’s haagen dazs so i guess it’s okay harryfan17 wait, you’re here? ALREADY?? 😳

↳ harryfan21 im so glad im not the only one surprised by this lol ↳ harryfan85 omg do you think harry is in town too?? 😍 ↳ harryfan76 ＠harryfan85 they dont travel together so no

bestfriend hahahaaaa bestfriend ice cream for breakfast is such a trigger!! THE MEMORIES! ughhh!! ily so much bestfriend i miss you btw bestfriend i need harry styles to give you back to me harryfan64 …. srsly? aren’t you a little bit too old to be doing this? harryfan7 What’s your favorite flavor? 😍 harryfan44 ??? Who cares about this? Just say you’re desperate for attention harryfan15 show barely ended and she’s already in chicago lmao ＠harrystyles what are you running from

↳ harryfan17 the bullets 💀 ↳ harryfan15 ＠harryfan17 HAHAHAHHAA ↳ harryfan39 😂😂 new fav comment thread ↳ harryfan76 they dont travel together so he is not with her !

user1 ahhh, chicago is such a pretty city to visit! but you should definitely take some time to rest first ❤ ️ you deserve it, girl! harryfan96 LEAVE HARRY ALONE !!

Sep 23, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan5, harryfan10, harryfan15 and 314 others

harryupdates Harry out in Chicago today! (Sep 23)

view all 37 comments

harryfan37 stop I JUST saw him in st paul 😭 is it possible to miss him already?? harryfan21 gotta slow down on the coffee dude lmao harryfan41 was ＠yourinstagram with him????

↳ harryfan44 who cares

harryfan15 two coffees, huh?

↳ harryfan24 why do you always have to make it about something that is not? 🙄 ↳ harryfan15 ??? im just saying there are two coffees in this picture, thats all

harryfan64 always so convenient harryfan13 if i speak…….. harryfan28 the blue jacket! 😍 if you’re lonely in chicago you can call him 🤭 harryfan49 ＠yourinstagram I bet one of these is for you ! hope you enjoy it ! harryfan84 OMFG WHY ARE YOU ALL SO FUCKING WEIRD IT’S JUST COFFEE CAN YOU PLS STOP BRINGING UP THE STUNT ALL THE DAMN TIME

Sep 23, 2021. •

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liked by gemmastyles, annetwist, yourbrother and 97,231 others

yourinstagram from live to love, this girl is out here living her bestest biggest dreams. couldn’t have done it without you guys. thank you. really.

(ps: pls dont tell my boss ive been obsessed with his music since the v beginning. id like to keep his ego grounded. thank you.)

view all 9,175 comments harryfan5 stop!!! harryfan5 this is sooo cute user1 this makes me sooo happy for you! 🥰 yourbrother 👏 user5 congratulations, yn! You deserve every moment! harryfan14 honest question, does anyone actually think this is cute and funny?

↳ harryfan32 no. they’re just easy to manipulate ↳ harryfan14 thought so. her captions are always so immature and weird

bestfriend i was there it was rare i remember it all too well :’)

↳ harryfan27 were you at the live on tour with yn??? ↳ harryfan35 omg you should be there tonight too!! ↳ harryfan45 for real tho when is ＠yourinstagram taking you to a show?? ↳ harryfan72 never bc Harry banned all of her friends and family from tour

harryfan11 OMG!! this is so nice! harryfan1 i love this for you!! <3 it’s like you’re representing all of us

↳ harryfan22 speak for yourself please

harryfan29 im THRIVING on this plot. it’s like the ultimate fanfic dream lollll harryfan44 you’re a joke harryfan44 to say you want to keep Harry’s ego “grounded” is not funny is disrespectful harryfan44 can’t wait for him to be done with you harryfan44 can’t wait for you to get fired ynupdates ❤️ ynupdates Congratulations!! You deserve it so much!

Sep 24, 2021. •

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lot2021updates

“ARE YOU FEELING GOOD CHICAGO? [...] Y’know, it’s a very important thing coming to Chicago, it’s a beautiful city and I’ve missed it very much. Also, wonderful things always happen here. I don’t know why… It’s like there’s something in the air… Or maybe because spray paint was invented here in Chicago, did you know that? No? Well, I know that! ... And I also know there are 144 dog-friendly restaurants in Chicago! Which is very, very important information… Yeah, my friends… A lot of valuable information is shared backstage!” — Harry talking to the crowd tonight.

LOT Chicago n1, 24 September 2021

lot2021updates

“Chicago, are you having a good time so far? [...] We still have a couple more songs left, but I really want to take a moment to… To thank each and every single one of you for being here tonight. This is only our eleventh show, but when I promise you this tour has already become one of the best experiences of my life, it’s because this tour has already become one of the best experiences of my life. And I know I wouldn’t be able to live this dream if it weren’t for you. You guys have absolutely changed my life. So thank you… Whether this is your first show, or your hundredth… Whether you just know that one annoying song that keeps playing over and over, or if you’ve been obsessed with my music since the very beginning… Thank you! You’ve changed my life, so thank you, thank you, thank you! I missed this and I missed you and I’m so happy to be back. This is Canyon Moon!” — Harry thanking the crowd tonight.

LOT Chicago n1, 24 September 2021

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liked by user3, loveynrry and 31 others

ynupdates Harry Styles first show in Chicago ended around half an hour ago, and Yn already posted all these stories on instagram! It’s the first time she shares these many glimpses from a show, and so quickly 🤗

view all 55 comments user9 ahhh!! so many great shots! harryfan5 omg she’s really feeding us 😭 user15 either yn hasn’t been online at all today and she’s posting unaware of what’s been said, or she’s seen everything and it’s posting BECAUSE of what’s been said lol harryfan11 STOPPPP that’s me holding the tbsl sign lol

↳ user6 Really? That’s so cool! Did you see her taking the picture? ↳ harryfan11 yesssss! I think she was filming tho, bc after that she recorded me and my friend begging harry to sing tbsl in la (it’s our next show lol) and also recorded some people from the crowd dancing and singing to a few songs ↳ harryfan19 WHAT? girl you’re so lucky!! asdjbajb what if harry sees the video??? omg i’d die! ↳ ynupdates Heyyy, that’s so cool! Did you talk to her, then? Can we dm you? ↳ harryfan ＠ynupdates yesssss, of course you can! we talked to her really briefly bc she was working, but she’s the sweetest and i’m absolutely in love now lol

Sep 24, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan18, harryfan22 and 875 others

harryupdates Harry just posted a story on instagram!

Earlier tonight, Yn (youtuber/member of the LOT crew) had shared a picture from tonight’s show of fans holding signs that said “Justice for TBSL”. She tagged Harry with the caption “hope you get the message xoxo”.

Now Harry has reposted the story and added “loud and clear x” to her caption. We hope it means good news for the fan project 🤞

view all 251 comments harryfan11 😭😭😭😭😭 harryfan11 SHUT UP THATS ME harryfan11 HARRY POSTED THE BACK OF MY HEAD MY LIFE IS MADE 😭 I CANT harryfan15 👀 harryfan23 istg if he sings tbsl and i’m not there…………… harryfan20 i cant do this anymore she’s fucking everywhere harryfan17 thank you ＠yourinstagram this fandom don’t deserve you x harryfan30 management must be really desperate they’ve never worked this hard in one day

↳ harryfan40 right? i wonder why… like what are they afraid of or what are they preparing us for… ↳ harryfan30 they are preparing me for nothing lmao i see right through their tactics and lies they wont fool me with this ↳ harryfan40 oh of course. we’ve been through these stunts for years now. i just mean there’s probably a reason why this is all happening and i cant wait to find out!

harryfan60 he just finished a show let the man get some rest fgs harryfan50 🥱 harryfan37 jeez. tour has barely started guys… if you keep hating everything and everyone this much you’re not gonna make it till the end yknow. just saying.

Sep 24, 2021. •

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liked by user1, harryfan5 and 45 others

ynupdates Yn has just shared these two stories from the venue/backstage at the LOT.

Harry Styles’ second show in Chicago starts anytime now. ☺️

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user10 ahh, there she is!! it’s been 20 hours since the last ones she posted i was starting to worry lol harryfan5 the fact that yesterday we could reply to her stories and today we can’t anymore makes me wonder what kind of dms she got :(

↳ harryfan19 shit i hadn’t noticed that ↳ ynrryfan :((( the fandom really went insane yesterday tho. istg they’ve been in chicago for what, three days? well i feel like it’s been three months lol ↳ harryfan31 omg i really hope she doesn’t stop posting for good. i know it’s selfish but she’s been feeding us so well with harry content 😭

harryfan64 far away from him. as she should be.

Sep 25, 2021. •

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PART 9 — BEFORE NASHVILLE

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#harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake social media #harry styles smau #harry styles social media au #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic

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