#late bc I was lowkey dying

[tenderandmild]

Don’t they know the difference between silver and golden age All Might!?

[mars-ipan]

Tomorrow Is Election Day And I Am So Fucking Stressed

[lumosou]

୨୧ — Breathing After the Ashes. 𖦹 , ✿ + ꕤ

ꕤ — Character(s) ; Harry J. Potter x Fem!Reader

ꕤ — Synopsis + Wc ; In the quiet after the storm, Harry learns to feel again—through stolen touches, whispered truths, and the solace of you. Together, you find warmth in the wreckage, and a reason to hold on. 7.9k

ꕤ — Discretion ; 18+ MDNI! angsty feelings alllll around, some fluff but mostly angstyish, the smut is so gentle and soft!!!!! mostly healing sex between reader & harry, they both need therapy.. penetrative sex! kisses as well 🫡

ꕤ — A/n ; this fic is lowkey my child but i also lowkey hate it! wtf! the pacing is kinda awkward and also repetitive bc this is genuinely the longest thing i’ve ever written and idk how to deal w it, bare with me i promise ill get better as i go 😭 i do hope u guys enjoy it somewhat!! reblogs and feedback are so so appreciated 🫶🏻

; masterlist.

The Great Hall wasn’t the same anymore. The enchanted ceiling still glowed with its usual charm, painted in amber hues that mirrored the late summer sunset, but the light felt muted somehow, swallowed by a weight too stubborn to dissipate. It hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire—bitter, clinging, impossible to outrun.

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, the hum of voices around him blurring into an indistinct murmur. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate, laden with food he didn’t remember serving himself: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, a gleaming crescent of gravy. None of it tempted him. The thought of eating made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a dull ache that spread through his chest.

The war was over. Voldemort was gone, his name no longer a curse. This was supposed to be the part where relief set in, where everything hurt a little less. Instead, Harry felt as though he was still wading through the rubble, shoulders bowed under the crushing weight of those who hadn’t made it. Colin Creevey. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Their names were a mantra he couldn’t stop repeating in his head, their faces seared into his mind’s eye.

His grip on the fork tightened until it dug into his palm, the bite of metal a thin distraction.

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice was a soft thread that tugged him out of his spiral. He looked up, startled, to find her hand brushing against his arm. Concern clouded her features, her brows knitting together. “You don’t have to stay here. If it’s too much, you can—”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, sharper than he meant to. The words came out like a reflex, cutting her off mid-sentence. Hermione flinched, pulling back her hand, and for a fleeting moment, guilt gnawed at him. But he shoved it down. He didn’t want her worry, her pity. He didn’t want any of it.

Ron shifted beside him, chewing on a hunk of bread like it was his way out of the tension. He didn’t speak, though Harry could feel the sideways glance he shot him. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until Harry let out a slow, controlled breath and placed his fork on the plate. The metallic clang rang louder than it should’ve, making him wince.

The scrape of his chair against the floor cut through the noise of the hall as he stood abruptly. “I need some air,” he muttered, already turning away.

He didn’t wait for Hermione to protest or Ron to offer some half-hearted comment to fill the space. His feet carried him toward the door, away from the low hum of conversation and clinking dishes. Toward the one place in all of Hogwarts where the noise couldn’t follow. Where he could finally, maybe, breathe.

─────────────

The Astronomy Tower had always been Harry’s escape. Perched high above the rest of the castle, it was the only place where the world felt distant enough to bear. The sprawling grounds stretched out below him, bathed in the purples and blues of dusk, and for a brief moment, the sight eased the tension coiled in his chest. He leaned heavily against the stone railing, its chill biting through his sleeves, and the wind making his already wild hair even messier. It carried the sharp, clean scent of freshly cut grass, grounding him in the present even as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

The sound of footsteps startled him—not loud, but enough to break the fragile stillness he’d sought. He turned sharply, hand brushing the wand tucked in his pocket, only to pause when a voice cut through the quiet.

“Are you hiding too?” you asked, lingering near the top of the stairs. The dim light softened your features, but it didn’t quite mask the curiosity behind your words. There was no malice in your tone, only a quiet humor that made his shoulders drop slightly.

“I wasn’t hiding,” Harry said automatically, though even to his ears, the denial sounded weak.

You tilted your head, unconvinced. A faint smile ghosted across your lips, but your eyes remained guarded, unreadable. “Right. You’re just conveniently up here, avoiding everyone, the same way I am.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his fingers brushing the edge of the railing. He didn’t respond, unsure how to defend himself—or if he even wanted to. There was something about the way you stood there, hands loosely at your sides, your voice soft but steady, that caught him off guard. It wasn’t pity or prying curiosity, just… understanding. Like you could see the weight pressing down on him and felt no need to ask what it was. Like maybe you carried some of it yourself.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to the horizon. “I guess you’re not.. wrong.’’

You stepped closer with quiet purpose, each movement deliberate, as though gauging the fragile equilibrium of Harry’s silence. He didn’t flinch or shift away, didn’t so much as glance at you. His gaze stayed locked on the horizon, but you could feel the weight of his awareness, the way the air between you seemed to hold its breath. When you finally stopped beside him at the railing, the stillness wasn’t stifling. It was tentative, balanced, as though it might shatter if either of you spoke too loudly.

“It doesn’t feel like the same place, does it?” Your voice was soft, your eyes fixed on the horizon as the last threads of sunlight dissolved into the hills. The sky deepened into shades of indigo and amber, blurring the edges of the world.

Harry nodded, though the motion felt stiff, half-hearted. “No,” he said, but the word came out hollow, too small to carry the weight behind it.

You leaned forward on the railing, fingers brushing the cool stone. “It’s strange,” you murmured, more to the sky than to him. “You think coming back will fix things, like the castle will just… feel the same. Like being here should make it easier. But it doesn’t. It’s all still different.”

Harry turned his head slightly, his gaze catching yours out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t mean to linger, but your words struck something raw, something he hadn’t managed to put into words. You’d said it so simply, yet it was exactly what had been clawing at him for months.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s not the same.”

Your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. “And neither are you.”

The observation hit like a hex, sharper than you’d probably meant it to. Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists against the stone. “Nobody is,” he said, his voice low and edged with a bitterness he didn’t entirely mean to direct at you.

But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t back away or apologize for the truth in your words. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, a flicker of understanding softening your tone. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you said, your voice gentler now. “War changes people. It has to.”

He wanted to argue, to say something sharp and deflective, but the words caught in his throat. Because you weren’t wrong. He wasn’t the same person who had fought his way out of the Chamber of Secrets or stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. He wasn’t sure who he was now—just that he wasn’t enough.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Not heavy, not empty, but something quieter, more bearable. Your arm brushed his lightly as you leaned forward on the railing, the contact fleeting yet somehow electric. He stiffened, his pulse jolting unexpectedly, and he waited for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you said after a moment, your voice low, steady. “I just thought you might not want to be alone. Sometimes it helps.”

He swallowed, his throat dry, and tried to muster some kind of response. He wanted to tell you he didn’t need anyone, that he was fine—had always been fine—on his own. But the words wouldn’t come. Maybe because they weren’t true.

“Thanks,” he said eventually, his voice barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might break whatever fragile thing had settled between you.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile, one that felt less like triumph and more like an offering. You leaned back against the railing, gaze lifting to the stars beginning to scatter across the night sky. They blinked faintly in the deepening dark, small points of light that somehow didn’t feel so far away.

For the first time in weeks—months, maybe—Harry let the tension in his chest ease just a little. The world still felt impossibly heavy, but next to you, it didn’t feel so crushing.

Maybe you were right. Maybe not being alone did help.

─────────────

The two of you stayed there, side by side, the silence between you settling into something quieter, more natural. Harry’s hands curled around the cold stone of the railing, the familiar feel grounding him as his eyes traced the lines of the grounds below. The weight on his chest hadn’t vanished, not completely, but your presence dulled its sharp edges, made it something he could carry, if only for a little while.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Your voice cut through the stillness—not loud, not accusing, just curious.

Harry turned his head toward you, startled by the observation. But you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze stayed on the horizon, your features lit faintly by the glow of the rising stars.

He shrugged, the motion small, self-contained. “Guess I don’t have much to say.”

You hummed softly, the sound low and thoughtful, almost like you were agreeing with him. “Sometimes it’s easier that way,” you murmured. “Less to explain.”

His grip on the railing tightened, knuckles pressing white against the stone. He wanted to ask how you could say something like that, how you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking when he hadn’t even said it aloud. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Some part of him was afraid that asking might shatter whatever strange, fragile understanding hung between you.

“Not everyone sees it that way,” he muttered instead. “Most people just want me to talk. Like if I say something, it’ll fix everything.”

You turned your head then, and he felt your gaze settle on him—steady, unflinching, impossible to avoid. “They probably think it’ll make them feel better,” you said, your voice calm but edged with certainty.

Harry blinked, the words landing harder than he expected. He hadn’t thought about it like that before, but of course, you were right. People didn’t just want him to be okay—they needed it. They needed Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, to be fine so they could tell themselves that things might still go back to the way they were.

“But it’s not about them,” you added, your tone softening just slightly, as though you’d noticed the way his jaw tightened. “It’s about you.”

The words struck something deep, loosening a knot he hadn’t realized had been pulling him taut all day. He turned to look at you fully now, his gaze searching your face for something he couldn’t name. But you weren’t watching him like everyone else did. There was no pity in your expression, no awkwardness. Just quiet understanding.

“Why are you up here?” he asked, the question spilling out before he had time to think better of it. He didn’t want to talk about himself anymore, didn’t want to keep peeling open wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal.

You hesitated, just for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to answer. Then your lips quirked into a faint smile—tired, almost self-deprecating. “Guess I needed to get away too. Being around people all the time… it’s exhausting.”

He nodded slowly. That, at least, he didn’t need explained. The noise, the questions, the endless parade of looks that didn’t ask but expected—it was suffocating. Up here, though, the castle below felt distant enough to forget, just for a little while.

“It’s different up here,” he said after a pause, though he wasn’t sure he’d meant to say it out loud.

You glanced at him again, your expression softer now, as though something in his words had shifted the space between you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he added quietly, surprising himself with the honesty of it.

You blinked, tilting your head like you hadn’t expected it either. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the tension in his chest eased, just a fraction. Whatever warmth flickered there wasn’t tied to the war or his title or anything he’d done to save the world. It wasn’t about being Harry Potter. It was just you.

You gave him a small, knowing smile, and for a moment, the weight of everything slipped from Harry’s shoulders. The ghosts quieted, the endless expectations faded, and the hollow ache that lived in his chest dulled just enough. Up here, with you beside him, the rest of the world felt far away, like it couldn’t reach him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said lightly, leaning back against the railing, arms folding across your chest. The breeze stirred your hair, the faint scent of pine and earth clinging to it, and Harry found himself watching the way the dim light softened your features.

“The Boy Who Lived doesn’t strike me as someone who needs anyone.”

Harry’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, but the warmth of it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is that what people think?”

You tilted your head, considering. “People think all sorts of things about you. Half of it’s probably rubbish.”

That drew a soft laugh from him, low and unexpected. The sound sat strangely in his chest, but it didn’t feel unwelcome. “You’re probably right.”

You glanced at him then, head tilted, your gaze curious but not intrusive. It wasn’t the sharp, prying look he was used to, the one that demanded answers or apologies or pieces of him he didn’t have to give. Instead, it was quieter, like you were searching for something without expecting him to offer it. Harry shifted under the weight of it, his fingers curling tighter around the railing, but before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Sometimes I think people forget you’re just… human.”

The words caught him off guard, sinking into him like a stone dropped into water. You didn’t say it with pity or reverence—just a soft kind of honesty that made his breath catch. It was like you weren’t talking to Harry Potter, the Chosen One, but just Harry, the boy standing beside you on a cold, quiet night.

For a moment, he couldn’t respond. The silence between you stretched, filled with a thousand things he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. “Sometimes I forget that too,” he said finally, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was barely audible, and yet it felt louder than anything he’d said in months. “It’s like… if I’m not fighting or fixing something, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”

You turned to face him fully now, your expression soft but steady. “Maybe you don’t have to figure that out right now,” you said. “Maybe it’s okay to just… be.”

The simplicity of it stunned him. Just be. As though it were that easy. As though he could strip himself of everything he carried and exist without purpose or expectation. Harry’s grip on the railing tightened. “I don’t know if I even know how to do that anymore.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do it alone.”

The words hung in the air between you, weightless and heavy all at once. Harry’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his heart stumbling in his chest. You weren’t looking at him the way most people did, like he was a puzzle to solve or a hero to rely on. You were looking at him like he was… enough.

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, but there was something in your eyes—something faintly sad and yet unwavering. “Because I think you need it.”

The knot in his chest twisted, a sharp ache he hadn’t felt in years threatening to rise to the surface. He blinked hard, pushing it back, refusing to let it crack him open. Not here. Not now.

His hand moved almost without thinking, brushing against yours where it rested on the stone. It was a light touch, tentative and fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through him. He froze, half expecting you to pull away, to retreat the way everyone else eventually did.

But you didn’t.

The touch lingered, delicate and unspoken, neither of you pulling away. It wasn’t an accident, nor was it intentional in a way that required words. It just was, the kind of quiet moment Harry didn’t know how to name—simple, yet heavy with meaning. His gaze dropped to your hand, where your fingers just barely grazed his, and something unfamiliar stirred in him, warm and disorienting.

“I’m not used to this,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. The night breeze nearly carried them away, but you heard him.

You turned your head, curiosity softening your expression. “Used to what?”

“Someone just… being here.” He let out a dry laugh, short and humorless, as if mocking himself. “Most people either avoid me or expect something.”

Your fingers shifted, brushing his more firmly, the subtle movement grounding him. “I don’t expect anything, Harry.”

His name, spoken so gently, without expectation or weight—it shouldn’t have struck him the way it did. But it lodged in his chest, the simplicity of it making his stomach twist. You weren’t trying to be anything other than honest, and somehow that made it worse.

He looked at you then, really looked at you. The moonlight played across your features, softening the edges, casting faint shadows against your skin. Your gaze met his and didn’t waver, holding steady in a way that made his chest tighten. There was something solid about you, something he couldn’t explain but couldn’t deny either. An anchor, maybe, in a world that had only ever felt like chaos.

“I don’t know how to…” The sentence faltered, crumbling before it could finish. Harry shook his head slightly, as if that might hide his frustration. How to what, exactly? Let someone in? Say what he was feeling? Be himself again?

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, like you could read his mind. Your voice was low, steady, but kind. “I meant it. You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever this is.”

A lump rose in his throat, the kind that tightened every word into silence, but he nodded, managing a quiet, “Thanks.” It felt small, inadequate, but you didn’t seem to mind. You just gave him a smile—small but warm, like the kind of light you don’t notice until it chases away the dark.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wrapped around you, not heavy or cold, but something softer now. Warm, even. Harry let himself sink into it, his shoulders easing, his usual tension slipping away bit by bit. He glanced down at the grounds, the glow of the castle windows below casting long, soft shadows over the grass.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” you asked suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet but not shattering it.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. “Leaving Hogwarts?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… walking away. Starting over somewhere far from all of this.”

He hesitated, the idea catching him in a way he wasn’t expecting. The thought of leaving everything—this castle, its whispers, the weight of who he was supposed to be—was both terrifying and strangely tempting. To go somewhere he could just be Harry, without the war, without the name, without the constant pull of the past.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, the word quiet but honest. “But… I don’t think I could. I don’t know who I’d be without all of this.”

You nodded, like you understood. “Maybe that’s something you figure out with time.”

There was no judgment in your voice, just patience, and that startled him more than the question itself. Harry turned to look at you, searching your face for something he couldn’t name. You weren’t pushing him. You weren’t rushing him to have answers he didn’t have. And somehow, that made him ache.

“What about you?” he asked, the words coming out before he could stop them. “Would you leave?”

Your smile was faint, wistful, like the question had passed through you a thousand times already. “I think about it. But I always come back to the same answer.” You paused, your gaze slipping to the horizon. “I don’t think running away fixes anything.”

He nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

You laughed softly, and the sound caught him by surprise. It wasn’t loud, but it was real, and it made something in his chest ease. “Only probably?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile finally breaking through. “Fine. You’re definitely right.”

“There you go,” you teased, your tone lighter now. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

It was strange how the conversation shifted, how the tension between you melted into something easier. Lighter. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Harry felt himself relax into the moment, his guard lowering just enough to let the night and your presence settle over him. For once, the weight on his shoulders didn’t feel so crushing. For once, the world outside the two of you could wait.

─────────────

The hours blurred together, the sky above deepening into a velvety indigo scattered with stars. The castle had fallen silent, the faint hum of voices and clatter of dishes from the Great Hall fading into memory. You hadn’t moved far from him, and Harry found himself noticing—really noticing—how the quiet didn’t feel oppressive anymore. It wasn’t heavy or suffocating. It was just… there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, it was bearable.

When you turned to him, your gaze was steady, searching but not invasive. “Do you think you’ll ever feel normal again?”

The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t laced with pity or weighed down with expectation—it was just honest. Simple. It twisted something inside him all the same. Harry swallowed hard, the knot in his chest pulling tighter.

“I don’t know what normal is,” he admitted, his voice low, like he was confessing something fragile to the night itself. “Maybe I.. never really did.”

You nodded, like that answer didn’t surprise you. Like it wasn’t the wrong one. “I think a lot of us feel that way.”

You didn’t push, didn’t prod for more, and that—more than anything—made him want to keep going.

“When it ended…” He trailed off, his eyes dropping to his hands on the railing. They looked unfamiliar, scarred and pale against the stone. “I thought it would stop. The hurt. I thought I’d feel relieved.” His jaw tightened, and the next words slipped out like they had been waiting for years. “But it didn’t. And now I don’t know if it ever will.”

The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Harry’s fingers curled against the railing, the cold bite of the stone grounding him. He didn’t look at you—he couldn’t. He didn’t know what he’d see in your eyes, and some part of him was afraid of it.

“You lost so much,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with something achingly gentle. “It’s okay to feel like that. No one expects you to just move on.”

Harry let out a hollow laugh, bitter and quiet. “Everyone expects me to be fine. To be Harry Potter, the one who saved everyone.” He gestured vaguely to himself, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “They don’t want to see this. Whatever this is.”

“I do,” you said, your voice unwavering.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air clean out of him. His head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation in your expression, no doubt. Just quiet sincerity, so clear and certain it left him breathless.

“Why?” The question fell from his lips before he could stop it.

You shrugged, a faint, bittersweet smile curving your lips. “Because… you’re more than what everyone sees. And because I think you deserve someone who doesn’t just want the shiny bits of you.”

Harry stared at you, his chest tightening painfully. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process something so simple yet staggering. No one had ever said anything like that to him before—at least, not in a way that felt this real.

The air between you shifted, heavier now, like it was carrying something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable. You weren’t touching, but Harry could still feel the warmth of you beside him, like a presence he didn’t want to lose. His heart pounded harder, the sound of it loud in his ears.

“I don’t think I deserve it,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

Your brows knit together, a flicker of sadness crossing your face, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you stepped closer, close enough that he could see the faint curve of your lashes, the soft press of your lips. “I think you do.”

Harry inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the railing as you moved into his space. His pulse thundered, and his mind raced with the weight of the moment, with how close you were, with the quiet pull of something he wasn’t sure he had the strength to reach for.

“I don’t want to screw this up,” he whispered, the words raw and fractured.

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady but kind. “But you don’t have to decide anything right now.”

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and he felt something shift in him—like a thread unraveling after being pulled too tight for too long. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours again.

This time, you didn’t just let the touch linger. You let your fingers twine with his, warm and certain, the weight of it enough to crack the walls he’d been holding up for so long.

Harry’s breath hitched as your fingers laced with his, the touch so simple yet carrying the weight of something he didn’t quite know how to name. It sent a ripple through him—a warmth that started in his chest and spread outward, leaving a faint ache in its wake. His grip tightened slightly, hesitant but sure, and he drew in a shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the moment.

You didn’t push him, didn’t say a word. You just stayed there, steady and close, your thumb brushing softly over the back of his hand. The stars above blurred into the edges of his vision, the castle fading into shadow. The world narrowed until it was only you, your touch, and the quiet hum of something unspoken between you.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice low and uneven. His green eyes searched yours, wide and vulnerable in a way that made his chest feel both too tight and too open. “I don’t know how to let myself… feel like this.”

You didn’t flinch or pull back. Instead, you gave him a small, steady smile, your free hand lifting, hovering just near his arm, a silent question. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to let it happen.”

Harry exhaled, shaky and raw, but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. His heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else, but for once, he didn’t care. He was tired of holding himself together, of keeping everyone out, of pretending he didn’t need this.

And then, almost instinctively, he closed the space between you.

The kiss was gentle, hesitant, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. Or maybe breaking himself. But the moment your hand slid to his cheek, grounding him, something inside him unraveled. He pressed deeper into the kiss, his other hand rising to rest lightly at your waist. It wasn’t desperate or hurried—it was slow, deliberate, filled with everything he couldn’t put into words.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him closer, and Harry felt something crack open in his chest. It wasn’t pain, but a kind of aching relief, as though he’d been holding his breath for years and was finally allowed to exhale. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t drowning.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, Harry didn’t go far. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his hand still at your waist, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric as though afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though there was no regret in his voice, only uncertainty. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupted, your voice soft but certain. Your hand slid down to rest over his chest, where his heart still raced beneath your touch. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A quiet laugh slipped from him, more a sigh than anything else. “I’m not used to this.”

“Neither am I,” you admitted, your fingers tracing small, absent shapes against the fabric of his shirt. “But.. I think we’re allowed to have this. Even after everything.”

Your words settled deep in his chest, heavy and grounding in a way that didn’t feel like a burden. He didn’t know if he fully believed you—not yet—but for the first time, he wanted to. He wanted to let himself try, to let himself have this, even if it scared him.

“Stay,” he said quietly, the word barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question. It was a plea.

Your lips curved into a small, tender smile, and you nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

─────────────

The space between you thrummed with tension, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but electric, alive with everything unspoken. Harry’s hand lingered at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt, hesitant but wanting. His other hand gripped the railing behind you, steadying himself as he leaned in, his lips hovering just shy of yours. Your heart pounded, loud enough to drown out the quiet of the night.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted closer, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt, clutching the soft cotton as though it might keep you tethered. His breath ghosted over your lips, warm and uneven, and when he kissed you again, it was different this time—no hesitation, no doubt.

It started slow, the way it had before, soft and searching. But when you pressed closer, your body molding against his, something inside him gave way. The kiss deepened, shifting into something more urgent, more unrestrained, as if the careful control he had been holding onto had finally slipped. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, nothing else existed but the heat between you.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers trailing over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He felt so solid beneath your palms, so real, and yet the way he kissed you was anything but careful. Your hands found his shoulders, clutching tightly as he kissed you harder, his need for you palpable. One of his hands left the railing to thread through your hair, his fingers tangling there with a kind of reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.

The rough stone at your back was cool, grounding, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Harry’s body pressed against yours. He seemed to be everywhere at once, overwhelming in the best way.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and unsteady.

You nodded quickly, your breath catching as he kissed you again, more certain this time. “Yes,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. Your fingers slid to the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft, slightly damp strands of his hair. “More than okay.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips left yours, trailing down along your jaw, slow and deliberate. When he reached the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath against your skin sent a spark shooting through you, and you couldn’t stop the quiet sound that escaped your lips.

The noise seemed to break something in him. His hand slid lower, from your waist to your hip, his thumb grazing the bare skin just above the waistband of your jeans. His name slipped from your lips without thinking, and Harry groaned softly, the sound reverberating against your throat. He pressed you more firmly against the railing, his body bracketing yours as though he wanted to block out the rest of the world.

His mouth continued its path along the line of your throat, slow and reverent, stopping just above the collar of your shirt. Every kiss left a trail of fire in its wake, every touch pulling you deeper into him.

“Tell me if—” he started, his voice hoarse and uneven, but you cut him off, your hands gripping his shirt to pull him back up to kiss you again. This time, you were the one who deepened it, letting him feel the weight of everything you couldn’t say. He responded instantly, his hands roaming over your waist, your hips, your back, as though trying to memorize the shape of you.

You broke the kiss only when you couldn’t breathe, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “Not here.”

Harry froze for a moment, his breath heavy against your lips, his eyes locked on yours. They were dark, intense, filled with something raw and vulnerable. You half-expected him to hesitate, but instead, he nodded, his hand sliding down to find yours. His grip was warm, firm, and steady, like it was the only thing anchoring him.

“Come on,” he said quietly, his voice low and sure.

You didn’t need to ask where. You just followed, your hand in his, trusting him completely.

─────────────

Harry led you through the castle’s dim corridors, his hand steady in yours. The silence wasn’t awkward—it buzzed with anticipation, each step echoing softly against the stone walls. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you in the moment, though the occasional brush of his thumb against your skin sent a quiet thrill through you, making it harder to focus on anything but him.

He didn’t tell you where he was taking you, and you didn’t ask. You trusted him completely.

When he stopped, it was outside an empty classroom near the Charms corridor. The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, revealing a quiet space bathed in silvery moonlight pouring through tall, arched windows. The room was unremarkable, desks and chairs pushed to the sides, but it felt secluded—safe. A haven away from the weight of everything outside.

Harry let go of your hand only to close the door behind you, locking it with a flick of his wand. The soft click echoed in the stillness, and your pulse quickened as he turned back to face you. His gaze met yours, sharp and intense, and for a moment, you felt frozen under the weight of it.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you stepped forward, your hands finding the front of his shirt again, pulling him down into a kiss that left no room for doubt. His lips met yours hungrily, and his hands found your waist, anchoring you against him. This time, there was no hesitation in the way he held you, his touch firm but reverent, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

The kiss deepened quickly, the tension that had simmered between you all night spilling over like floodwaters. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his body pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear even a breath of space between you. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he broke the kiss only long enough to let you pull it over his head, the fabric falling to the floor.

Your gaze drifted over his chest, tracing the faint scars etched across his skin, each one a reminder of everything he’d endured. The moonlight highlighted every line, every curve of muscle, and for a moment, he looked vulnerable—unsure. His chest rose and fell quickly, his nerves evident, but you didn’t let him linger there.

Your fingers brushed over his scars, soft and deliberate, and you leaned in to kiss him again. He melted into it, his hesitance replaced by a quiet urgency as his hands slid to your hips. His lips left yours to trail down your jaw, finding your neck, his kisses slow and infused with something akin to hunger. The heat of his mouth against your skin made you shiver, your breath catching as his fingers found the hem of your shirt and lifted it.

You raised your arms to let him pull it off, and when he stepped back just slightly, his gaze lingered on you in the moonlight, reverent and full of something raw that made warmth bloom low in your stomach.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say it aloud.

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands wandering your sides and back, like he was mapping every inch of you. You barely noticed the edge of a desk pressing into the backs of your thighs as he guided you backward, his movements growing bolder with each passing moment.

Your fingers drifted down his chest, following the ridges of his muscles until they found the waistband of his jeans. You worked the button free, and Harry let out a low groan, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice strained, his green eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart stumble.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of nerves and desire coursing through you. “I want this. I want you.”

Something in his expression shifted, the raw emotion behind his gaze making your chest ache. He kissed you again, slower this time, as though he was trying to pour every unsaid word, every feeling he couldn’t name, into the press of his lips.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the desk with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the warmth of him against you making your breath hitch. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered sound felt all-consuming, pulling you deeper into him.

The world outside disappeared. There was no war, no expectations, no fear. Just Harry—the feel of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the quiet way he murmured your name like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight you both carried didn’t matter. In this moment, there was nothing but the two of you, and that was enough.

Harry’s hands gripped your thighs firmly, his touch grounding and electric all at once. His kisses grew hungrier, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been holding back for far too long. The edge of the desk pressed into your back, but the slight discomfort melted away beneath the heat of his body pressing against yours. Everything about him—his hands, his lips, the low, ragged sounds he made—consumed you entirely.

Your fingers worked at the top of his jeans, fumbling slightly in your haste. Harry groaned softly against your mouth as you finally managed to pull them down, his breath hitching sharply when your hands slipped below the waistband of his boxers brushing against the heated skin just above his throbbing length. His hips jerked slightly at the contact, and the sound that escaped his lips was low and guttural, sending a rush of heat spiraling through you.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His green eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and filled with something raw that made your pulse stutter. His hands slid to your hips, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans. “Can I?” he asked, his voice low and rough, barely steady.

“Please,” you breathed, lifting your hips to help him.

His gaze stayed locked on you as he slid your jeans down, the fabric brushing against your skin in a way that left you shivering. The look in his eyes made your breath catch—a mixture of reverence and want, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His hands trembled slightly as he tossed the jeans aside, and the way his gaze raked over you, slow and deliberate, made warmth bloom low in your stomach.

“You’re…” He trailed off, his words faltering as his eyes met yours again. He didn’t need to finish the sentence; the intensity in his expression said everything his voice couldn’t.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his bare chest pressed against yours. The heat of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you, and when his hands slid back to your thighs, parting them just slightly, you gasped quietly. His lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper. Each kiss was deliberate, filled with a need that made your whole body tremble.

One of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your underwear. The touch was tentative at first, testing, but when a soft moan slipped from your lips, his confidence grew. His fingers pressed more firmly, tracing the heat of you through the fabric, and you arched into his touch instinctively, the sensation overwhelming.

“God, you’re so—” Harry broke off with a groan, his free hand gripping your thigh tightly as you rolled your hips against his hand. His breathing was unsteady now, ragged and uneven. “You’re perfect.”

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your pulse race. You reached for him, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, finally pulling the restrictive barrier between the two of you down. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as your hand wrapped around him, the heat and weight of him making your own breath falter. He let out a strangled moan, his hips rocking instinctively into your touch.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice tight, like he was holding on to the last threads of control. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands trembling as they moved to your waist. “I want to—can I—”

You nodded quickly, your cheeks warm, reaching for him again to help guide his length inside you. The desk creaked faintly as he stepped closer, his hands finding your hips as he lined himself up with you. He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world stilled.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer this time, steady but full of emotion.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice sure despite the nerves and anticipation rushing through you. “I want this, Harry. I want you—all of you.”

That was all he needed.

Harry leaned in, his lips finding yours again as he pushed forward, slow and purposeful. The initial stretch made you tense, your fingers instinctively tightening against his shoulders. But then his breath brushed warm against your cheek, and the soft, shaky sound he let out as he slid deeper sent a ripple through you, easing the tension and replacing it with something else entirely—something that left you breathless.

“You okay?” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. His voice was tight, laced with restraint, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

“Yes,” you whispered, your nails digging lightly into his skin as your body adjusted to him. “Just… don’t stop.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded, his hands trembling slightly where they gripped your waist. He started to move, his hips rolling in a slow, achingly delicious rhythm that made your breath catch. Each motion sent a wave of heat building steadily through you, your body arching instinctively toward his as though you couldn’t get close enough.

“God,” he groaned, the sound rough and raw as it left him. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly to meet his thrusts, and the shift made you gasp. Your head fell back against the desk as the new angle sent a spark shooting through you. “You feel so—”

The rest of his words broke off into a low curse, his lips finding your neck again as his movements quickened. The world beyond the room ceased to exist—the only things that mattered were the soft creak of the desk beneath you, the heat of his body against yours, and the quiet, desperate noises that escaped him with every thrust.

Your hips tilted to meet his rhythm, and the friction left you dizzy, sparks lighting beneath your skin. Your hands slid into his hair, tangling in the messy strands as his face buried in the curve of your shoulder. His breath was hot against your skin, and each groan that escaped his lips sent a shiver coursing down your spine, your body arching into his as the pressure low in your belly coiled tighter.

“Harry,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea, raw and unrestrained. His response was a groan that seemed to echo through you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his touch almost possessive as he pulled you closer.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, the words rough against your skin, reverent and awed. His voice broke slightly as he added, “I—I can’t…”

“Don’t hold back,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. Your hands slid down his back, clutching at his waist to anchor yourself. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

For a brief moment, his pace faltered, his forehead pressing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment. And then he kissed you again, hard and desperate, his lips crashing into yours as though he needed you more than air. His rhythm grew uneven, each thrust deeper, more precise, until the tension inside you snapped.

The wave that crashed over you left you trembling, your body shuddering in his arms as the heat and intensity overwhelmed you. His name slipped from your lips again, barely audible, as you clung to him.

Moments later, Harry followed, his movements faltering as he buried himself in you one final time. A low, guttural sound escaped his lips as he trembled against you, his forehead dropping to yours. His breaths came fast and ragged, his chest heaving as he held you close, his hands gripping your hips as though afraid to let go.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The room was silent except for the soft hum of your breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as Harry shifted, wrapping his arms more securely around you. He pulled you close, his body still trembling faintly, and you rested your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing aimless patterns across his back.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice hoarse but filled with quiet concern.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you tilted your head just enough to brush a kiss against his neck. “More than okay,” you whispered.

Harry let out a quiet laugh, low and warm, his arms tightening around you. “Me too,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

Finally, for what seemed like an eternity. Everything felt right, it felt okay. Like harry could just..exist again.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[xxgoldie]

went to karaoke and someone sang crush by david archuleta so now im thinking abt lighter romance enthusiast lorenz also listening to the most pining songs just the sappiest playlist known to man

as usual, i am Obsessed with lighter being down bad. he's such a fucking dork, i need him. have been listening to a variety of love song playlists for the last few days as i write this and its not helped the brainrot. cw: none, pure fluff, gn!reader wc: 444 (or 618 with the bonus)

when he's out and about, he tends to listen to metal and rock, the same kind of stuff that's in his demo trailer. it gets him in the right headspace for his champion duties. when he's alone, though? his headphones are playing exclusively sappy glitter-gel-pen love songs. he would rather die than let anyone know, he has an image to upkeep - wouldn't even put it past him to have a second spotify account, bc u know the girls will bug him to see his wrapped every year.

within the love song genre, his favourite songs are ones that remind him of you.

his listening history is an amalgamation of different musical styles, but what he really pays attention to is the lyrics; if there's a song that really captures the way he feels about you, or one where the singer describes their lover and they're similar to you, he can't help but put it on repeat. he also loves duets - just like with romance movies, he loves imagining its the two of you in that situation. when he's deep in crush territory, he'll even make a playlist of those songs (it's long - can't help that every other song reminds him of you).

when you're finally together, he's more open about his love of love songs. it may take a bit into your relationship, during some late-night conversation about your respective silly behaviours when you were pining over each other, for him to show you the playlist, titled with just your initial and a heart emoji. but even before that, if you happen to play any of the songs he secretly listens to, you might catch him singing along under his breath (lowkey this post every five seconds). you might chalk it up to him picking up the words of songs the girls listen to, but that's because you don't catch the way he looks at you with the lyrics on his lips.

there are other times where he'll slide up behind you in your kitchen, arms around your waist and head propped on your shoulder, the domesticity and the fact you're wearing his tshirt getting to him. he's not much of a singer, but he'll hum one of those songs in that moment (his voice has a lovely smooth n deep timbre, so his humming sounds Heavenly in your ear). he might get a little embarrassed if you recognise the song and start humming along with him, or god forbid singing, but he'll still sway the both of you along to the music. he's not much of a dancer either, but he can figure out a midnight slow dance in the kitchen for you.

bonus!! a few songs i think he'd listen to, tho kinda influenced by my own music taste (+ spotify links): kiss her you fool - kids that fly (he has it on loop when he's psyching himself up to ask you out) meteor shower - cavetown davy crochet - the backseat lovers (perhaps i'm biased on this one bc i crochet) stitch me up - set it off can't help falling in love - elvis presley cloud 9 - beach bunny ("even when we fade eventually to nothing / you will always be my favourite form of loving" really hits with his whole 'dying for love' thing) love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse paper rings - taylor swift jackie and wilson - hozier (there's a lot of hozier in his playlists, but he really likes the thought of a family with you, even if that's only a couple lines of the song) valentine - atlas sweet tooth - cavetown ("guess i must be satisfactory / you said you love me exactly the way i am" takes him Out i can just feel it) would you be so kind - dodie

[stilinskibaby]

early series stiles

PAIRING : s1-2!stiles x reader.

CONTENT : fluff.

is so protective of you, especially after finding out about the supernatural

is constantly checking up on you (have you drank water, are you sleeping well, etc.)

lowkey is always trying to hold hands with you under the guise of ‘i have something to show to you’

starts stuttering at you once he acknowledges his crush on you

starts having nightmares about you dying during the kanima situation

has you and scott over for weekly movie / dinner nights bc he knows it calms your anxiety

LATE NIGHT DRIVING JAMS,, him picking you up just to drive around and listen to music and sometimes he parks at the preserve bc he knows u like the view

helping you with your homework

him asking u for girl advice ( u r the girl )

THE BIGGEST GIFTS FOR UR BIRTHDAY ( you dont even know how u got the money for it )

tl:dr stiles is a cutie patootis sweetiepie

[hash1ras]

i loved geto hcs 😭😭😭 can i get one with gojo and chifuyu AND MITSUYA plsssssss

ahhh ive been rewatching tr so this is perfect ♡ characters have been aged up for this one, i hope u enjoy!!

gojo headcanons here <3

MITSUYA ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

he’s always so calm and level headed, definitely the kind of guy that keeps you grounded

we all know mitsuya is a fashion king

sometimes makes you special clothing pieces bc he knows your style so well<3

late night bike rides around the city!!!

loves to stop and take you to his favorite spot by the water where you sit and talk for hours

always holds your hand when you’re out in public

and opens the door for you (he’s a true gentleman)

has an obsession with anything strawberry flavored

he’s so serious all the time but occasionally catches you off guard with random sarcastic comments

loves obscure indie films

and trashy reality tv shows (it’s his guilty pleasure)

loves to play fight with you

like you guys will be on the couch watching tv and next thing you know he’s tackling you and pinning you to the ground

randomly wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses your neck

will sometimes bring you to the toman meetings (mostly bc mikey annoys him about it bc he likes you so much lol)

paints his nails black

loves underground rap music (and chase atlantic hehe)

loves wearing rings, he’s kinda obsessed with jewelry (but its so hot)

CHIFUYU⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a literal angel

loves to come over with takeout and wine for lowkey date nights

he’s a huge homebody

bought matching chainlink bracelets for the both of you

loves candles???? he literally has 50 and still continues to buy more anytime he goes shopping smh

he’s secretly obsessed with witchtok and astrology

baji loves to tag along on some of your dates lol

especially when it involves yakisoba and arcades

he’s secretly an incredible cook

loves to make all your favorite meals and find new recipes for both of you to try

he loves indie music, especially arctic monkeys and the neighbourhood

obsessed with pokemon

anytime you leave the house he’s running around town playing pokemon go

like you’ll be at the arcade with him and baji and you just finished a game and turn around only to see chifuyu running across the street, dodging cars, trying to catch more pokemon and baji’s on the ground dying of laughter

love’s self care nights with you

bubble baths and face masks<3

requests are open!#

[isa-ghost]

was reading through your q!phil hc masterpost and was wondering if you could add any of your codebreakers/etoilza headcanons into the fray…? :3

YESSSS I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK THIS LONG TO GET ASKED /LH

qPhil headcanons masterlist

RESTATES for my and your convenience (heads up, there are a few suggestive/mildly explicit mentions!!):

--He's FWB with Etoiles. Extremely QPR, Etoiles is an aro king --He and Phil started out as friends and that has Barely changed if at all, but sparring matches get a little too homoerotic sometimes and neither of them can resist the other when they're popping off extra hard. Things have. Escalated a few times. If yknow what I mean. Of all Phil's harem members polycule partners, he & Etoiles have absolutely ZERO emotional investment in the Spicy(tm) things they do together. It's simply a very intimate way of showing each other their respect & admiration for the other. What they have going on is a "*spanks you* good game, let's hit the showers team" kinda deal. They're the type of mfs to finish in bed then shake hands like "gg." Casual sex is >>>> to these two, but it happens waaay less between them than it did Phil & Fit, Fitza was habitual (pre-Pac). Codebreakers is a once in a while thing --Etoiles has 100% asked Phil who fucks the best out of the polycule bc like everything else, it's a competition & he Must win, he Must have the best dick game. This amuses Phil very much --Phil is attracted to Etoiles the same way he's attracted to Fit, HOWEVER, the reasoning is different. Etoiles has raw skill and talent, but it's the way he wields it and demonstrates it that makes Phil wanna act up. Also Etoiles is fucking hilarious. Who can resist a good sense of humor? Those dramatics make Phil swoon --Etoiles is one of the people who is best at catching Phil's Tells for when something is wrong --Etoiles is one of few people who can convince (or goad) Phil into doing something he normally wouldn't, especially if he's drunk --Speaking of Phil being drunk around Etoiles, the way he can still absolutely body someone or snipe smth from miles away makes Etoiles want to kiss him stupid --Etoiles left a scar on Phil's back during Purgatory when he killed him Day 1. Phil didn't know for the longest time, but it took him a while to show him his wings after that. --Phil was genuinely afraid of Etoiles (& Fit) for a while after Purgatory --Sometimes Phil's laughs and startled yelps sound almost like squawks. Also his hiccups. It's very rare, but whenever it happens, he gets teased for it. Especially by Etoiles. --Phil goes back and forth on gifting one of his shed feathers to Etoiles --Technically all of the Polycule vs Ender King hcs apply to Etoiles in some way --Phil could listen to Etoiles teach him about French culture for hours

And now the new stuff :D

Etoiles's dramatics can get Phil in tears laughing. His sides and stomach will hurt before it's over, and Etoiles can go on for MINUTES. Sometimes he'll keep going purely because it has Phil dying so hard and he loves seeing what a kick Phil gets out of it

Etoiles is (playfully) salty that Phil is such a My Kids Come First kinda guy bc GOD does he want Phil to be down to do dangerous pvp and dungeon busting shit without the "euuu we gotta make sure it's safe" aspect more often. He wants that Angel of Death. Etoiles is the #1 Dadza (Derogatory) islander /lh

See, Fitza is more explicit and deadass about their,, Time together. Codebreakers is more subtle. Yknow that "media literacy is knowing when something that isn't gay sex is gay sex" post? That's Codebreakers. Sparring, dungeon busting, whatever high-risk high-exertion thing they're doing together. That.

It should go without saying how down Etoiles would be to throw hands with Ender King. It would be the most exhilarating fight he's ever had

Phil's still lowkey lost about the whole resistance thing. And schedules lately have not been kind to the two of them, so he hasn't had a chance to talk about it with Etoiles as extensively about it as he'd like to

Btw he's secretly concerned as hell smth bad is gonna happen to Etoiles if more of his body becomes corrupted by code :)

They 100% refer back to the time Etoiles said this regularly, and similar things like it. The same can be said for Fitza but my god the extent to which these two are more than willing to kill for each other. OUGH.

Phil does not realize how much pent up stress and emotion he can vent out via sparring or hitting something really fucking hard. Etoiles is going to fix that one day.

Phil's Etoiles impression has made Etoiles attempt to learn how to mimic Phil in retaliation but he cannot for the life of him get the hang of Phil's fuckass accent. Geordies stay winning to this man's dismay

Etoiles is frustratingly yet fascinatingly hard for Phil to clock sometimes. It's difficult to gauge exactly how he's feeling or what he's thinking. And yet as inconvenient that can be sometimes, something about it is incredibly attractive to Phil at the same time. Which is funny because unpredictability is usually not something his survivalist brain would like. Something about how he trusts Etoiles and therefore his being a wildcard is not so scary,,

Etoiles 🤝🏻 Chayanne - Wanting Phil to take them on a flight

I don't know if I'd call Etoiles an anarchist the same way I would Phil, but either way he is SO DOWN to fuck with the Feds if it entails any kind of pvp or the need to be geared up

Ok listen I have to call back to the gay sex subtext thing. Things that are more sex than gay sex to Codebreakers: Sparring, adrenaline, battles of wit, flexing powerful gear, thinking too much about what an absolute potential killing machine the other is, watching one another be in The Zone during a fight

Phil has more physical strength than skill with weapons and Etoiles has more skill with weapons than physical strength. Ok now imagine that while they're in a 2v# fight

I would not put it past Etoiles to pull a Missa and say smth wildly out of pocket and suggestive so fast in French that Phil doesn't catch it.

[loquarocoeur]

Hey Alex another late night thought from me.

What do you think about Max and Charles potentially being parents one day. Ofcourse we know that they are pet parents but could you see them as having their own demonspawns later down the line.

Also side note I bet Charles goes absolutely feral whenever he and Max meet up with Victoria and Max's niece and nephews because of how similar to Max they look.

And I don't think Max feels any differently when he and Charles babysit his God-daughter Chiara. Max defo went almost rabid when that one pic of Charles on the boat with the baby was posted. If you know you know 😏.

All in all it would be so great to read your interpretation of lestappen being parents.

They would be such girl dads, Max is lowkey giving the vibes already with Penelope (Yes, I know and agree he's not her dad of course), I think if Charles wanted his 3 kids that he talked about they'd have two girls and one boy.

I feel like they'd also fail so hard to be like good cop bad cop bcs they'd both always just spoil them rotten and never put their foot down

The way they both interact with kids is absolutely adorable though, I think they both get baby fever whenever they're seeing each other interacting with kids and yes Max's nephews are carbon copies of him they're so cute🥺 Charles would probably be a puddle on the floor seeing them with Max every tine

I think when Max sees Charles with a kid he's always keeping a straight face but dying inside because it's too cute

I don't think I'm much of a kid fic person though, so I don't think I'll write abt it, but yeah idk I do see it

[johnathancactus]

just putting this here bc im feeling a bit frustrated with myself right now & talking at nobody helps

cw: not eating enough, & thusly not feeling great; general health; body health; venting

i always feel bad about being so concerned about my health when everybody says im healthy bc i know im not--for context: i probably have arfid & have big issues w food texture to the point where i struggle to eat much of any meat/protein & other vitamins

in the past (before i started taking vitamins & iron supplements) i used to always be dead tired. i knew i wasnt depressed but it was more just that i could barely make my body do anything?? it even got so bad once that i couldnt move my arms for like 3 minutes (which was fucking terrifying bc it came out of nowhere). i used to feel like i was hollow--like there was nothing behind my face but skin & bones. i used to feel sick looking at my body bc i felt like i looked more like a skeleton than a person. i lowkey felt like my body was corroding & eating itself--i wasnt dying but it felt like it

so i was like "oh shit" & started taking vitamins & iron (even though my doctor said my blood work was fine??), and stopped feeling quite as much like death, yay! but even still im usually exhausted & feel like shit... like i still struggle to eat enough and its just frustrating bc i dont want to talk to people about it a ton? i have a bad habit of obessng over my health (prob bc i dont usually feel awesome) & i get by enough to where i seem fine? sometimes im not even sure if im just making this bigger in my head (granted, while im typing this my hands are shaking bc i havent been getting enough to eat lmao) but most people think im making it a big deal? idrk man... like i know i get anxious, & my doctor keeps telling me that im fine, but i still usually feel like shit (not like im dying any more, though! win!)... like people tell me i need to stop worrying about my health but like idfk.... its hard to not worry when i feel like im in the lowest possible bit of qualifying as "normally healthy".... ugh

like i qualify as "fine", but if i eat a meal too late my abdomen becomes concave?? like i know this is a Thing, but it happens to me pretty regularly which makes me tweak tf out because like??? is that realy normal????

its also hard because as a woman, people always go "omg ur so skinny!!! ur so pretty <3 <3 i wish i had ur body!!!" (i'm 5'8" & 104 lbs) because i feel so guilty for wanting to gain weight? i should want this right? like so may people want to be like me--even though i feel sick & dead all the time... like you shouldnt want this--or should i not want to change? sometimes i wonder if i should give up bc it took me 2 years to gain 10lbs...

maybe i just should talk to my therapist about it sometime instead of my ocd idfk... i just want to feel Healthy again.. i feel like its been years since ive felt energized and alive... since i havent felt like i could die if i ended up missing a meal... since i havent been able to see my hip bones stick out like im dying (looking at them makes me feel sick to my stomach)... since i havent felt as if my own body was eating itself... ugh

[sol-consort]

!! I love whenever you write those post ab how far u r with ur cyberpunk journey and ur opinions and thoughts x3 hope ur having a good day :D

Thank you! I love talking about it so much. This game is beautiful and dissecting its scenes is so entertaining.

I've been doing the fighting club missions lately and was surprised to see Johnny actually show interest in a car.

Tbh same, I saw the car and my jaw dropped to the floor. What a beauty. I beat the guy and let him keep the money, I just want the car!

He immediately projects himself into it and doesn't take his eyes off of the car for a second. Even is like, "What are you waiting for V?" to urge you up to win the damn match and get him HIS car.

Side note: very adorable how when he pictures himself in the car, he chooses to appear in the passenger seat and not the driver's. Because he knows he's confined to the fate of eternal passenger princess and that V will always be the one driving.

But also, I like to think that he was this way even before, never drove himself anywhere, just constantly made people do it for him, while he put his feet up (dirty shoes and all bc bastard) on the dashboard and lit a cigarette.

Anyway here are pictures of Johnny and his one true love!

(Ignore the poser merc, they're just a conformist)

But seriously here is one with just Johnny and the car of his dreams alone.

And some more because those were fun to take

-

I recently got all the tarot cards, and let me tell you the scream I scrumt when I finally found the Death card oh my got. umatchable high, finally guessed something right.

The reward is a little anticlimactic—lowkey I hoped for more scenes of Johnny's past where we get to walk around in his body, see more memories, and interact with the 2020 cyberpunk world.

But heyho more Misty content is always a win in my book! My beloved Misty! Is there a mod that adds her to photography mode? I'm desperate, man. I need to take a cool pic of her and V hugging.

How she nonchalantly called both V and Johnny the fool lmao. Accurate. Two brains, one body, yet no braincells to be found. The combination of their brains came the closest to miracling negative numbers into existence.

I'm started to notice a pattern of foreshadowing here. First, Deshawn asking V if they'd prefer a slow death by a comfortable life or to burn in a blaze of glory and become a legend.

And now Misty telling V and Johnny they need to either best the world or make peace with it. One of the two endings to the fool's journey, which is the premise of the entire game as the art direction seems to imply.

To be honest, I know nothing about tarots, and I'm tempted to look up the Fool's journey to read about it. But at this point, with this strong of a parallel, it feels like I'd just be spoiling the game plot for me by doing so. I would rather remain in the dark for now. I will check out the tarots after I finish the game.

Back to foreshadowing, this constant choice offered to you makes me think the endings will either be to follow in Johnny's footsteps and blow up the Arasaka tower, dying in the process and burning into a blaze of glory.

Or, somehow, getting rid of Johnny (or merging together into the same person and suppressing his desires for revenge with your own contentment) and just... living life, you know. Anticlimactic but expected.

(Please don't actually tell me the endings or even hint at them. I don't want to know if my guesses are close)

It'd be cool if there is an ending where Johnny just takes over you completely and the player is forced to control him instead of V. But that feels like a pipedream.

I thought about it a lot, what to do if I was in this situation and couldn't get rid of or calm down this parasite in my brain. My proposed solution is to make another brainchip, copy V's consciousness into it, plop it into any rando's dead body from the piles of corpses we leave behind in missions, then boom! Problem solved, easy peasy. If Johnny isn't willing to move out of my body, then I'll throw him the bone and move out myself. He can have it, dude. idgaf, I'll get me a new body.

But also, this solution will only work in the very, very early stages of the infestation. Otherwise, the chip would've eaten too much of V's brain to be able to correctly copy it into a new chip. Even then, what's the guarantee that we won't end up with a second V and a third Johnny? But hey, at least now they're not dying!

-

I've finished the brainchip engineer convoy mission. Rip scorpion. The amount of information revealed ??? Like

So it was never just a relic we were stealing. This chip isn't malfunctioning because Johnny is a stubborn dick who's attempting to take over our body by force. If anything, it's functioning perfectly. This is what it was designed to do, shred your brain into sludge and slowly replace all the parts.

Even in the best case scenario where the soul trapped in the relic is extremely friendly and doesn't want to harm us or erease any part of our brain, It still has no actual choice in the matter. No real power over the relic itself.

Silverhand's engram isn't special. Johnny wouldn't be able to stop the chip to save V even if he wanted to—the fact he is indifferent to the whole thing is another matter entirely.

But the thing is, why did the chip even save V's life if it was meant to activate when the host is dead? For a split second all neuron activity within V's brain began to fizzle out as the bullet tore brain tissue apart, and in that split second the relic made the choice to reboot their brain instead of completely overtaking over it.

Why?

How?

Was it a conscious choice? Was it Johnny's doing? Was it the relic's doing? Was it some stroke of luck?

This also means that Arasaka ment for Johnny's relic to be activated eventually, for what purpose exactly? Why keep the soul of your nemesis trapped in stasis awaiting revival? Just to brag? A victory trophy? A lesson to teach those who mess with Arasaka? To torture him one day? Or to revive him just to point and laugh? Just in case for the unlikely scenario that shitty punk rock bands become a dying bread and it's left to Johnny to save the world with the power of music and unwashed armpits?

Hope it gets answered! eventually... after like 50 more shopping spree montages where I waste all of V's money on clothes and then wonder why I can't afford better cyberware.

I want you to focus on this line here.

"It's programmed to take over its new environment, at all costs."

"No matter what, sooner or later, the engram wins?"

"Yes."

THE IMPLICATIONS! I CALLED IT!!! I FUCKING CALLED IT!!!!

The.

Implications.

Are REAL.

fuck :(

1. Your personalities are merging. The scale is tipping very slowly, but surely. This is a fact.

2. Johnny is suddenly defensive and dismissive in this conversation despite staying silent at the beginning. Denying his influence in the past on you and warning you against listening too much to Hellman only when he started to tread on dangerous territory that'd make you suspicious of Johnny.

3. "at least Johnny never whored himself out like you" is 100% a a Johnny line. V doesn't speak like this. It's abrupt and doesn't fit with the V's past comments during the conversation. But it certainly fits with Johnny's. It was an offered dialogue choice for the player to make. We're actively choosing to make V into Johnny with every option we pick, no matter how small and seemingly meaningless.

In conclusion: the fucker's taking you for an absolute tool. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if it's Johnny's influence that's purposely isolating V just so they never listen to any counter arguments on why maybe taking advice from a mechanical tumor is a bad idea.

The more V remains miserable and lonely, the more susceptible to Johnny's influence they become. The more they hang on to his every word, take his advice to heart, look forward to the bits and pieces of chatter he drops around. Things you the player often do.

Because V's current life is unbelievably loney. You sleep alone in empty apartments, shower, drink coffee, go outside, and wander without purpose. The only time people ever call you is when they have jobs for you to take or when they need your help as in doing missions for them.

V spends entire weeks just waking up, killing people for money, going back home, sleeping, then rinse and repeat. Sometimes, days pass by where they haven't spoken a single word to themselves or anyone else.

It's normal from our perspective as players. This is how game protagonists always acted. This is why the loneliness flies under the radar for so long before the player clocks just how miserable V's life is. Why we're none the wiser when V suddenly has lots more dialogue options to reply to Johnny in small scattered conversations, someone they once swore to never listen to, yet driven by desperation and isolation into befriending.

At the end of the mission, you get the dreadful conversation with Johnny.

And I just want to point out that the man saying this

Is the very same man who said this only a few days ago.

Apparently he changed his mind again :)

Fr tho, he's clearly contradicting himself. There is a clear contrast between what Johnny wants, and what he thinks he should want.

Or once he saw that his reign over your mind is invetable, he decided to trash the whole script and come clean with his intentions since you can't do shit about it at this point.

-

Talking about isolation, I've recently finished the Sinnerman mission.

Oh Joshua :(

I've dealt with my fair share of extremely religious individuals in my life. Even ones devoted to a delusional degree. You learn to live with them. Because at the end of the day, they're people like you and me. They say the same things people say, only worded differently with some sprinkled religious qoutes here and there. You become desensitised to the fanatic aspect and learn to read between the lines.

And because of growing up in a place with a lot of religious people, I developed a sort of admiration towards the passion and devotion they hold. In a lot of instances, I'd indulge them in conversation and earnestly ask about their interpretation of certain events and ideas.

When I first started writing queer stories at 12 years old, one even came to argue with my in my dms about how wrong the thing I'm doing is. Instead of approaching me with hostility it seemed as if they pity me and wanted to gently diway me from "sin" this greatly piqued my interest as a kid and I spent hours talking to them and debating the actual meaning of certian religious lines.

Because you only get to learn more about the religion type when they share their interpretations of abstract and vague text with you, it gives you a mirror into their inner psyche, their personal opinions and believes, not the ones their holy scripture makes them abide by.

Plus, they're way more open to talking about sombre topics such as death, sin, and redemption. Things the average person considers too heavy for a conversation with a stranger. And I love to yap and philosphise about, so surprisingly we got along pretty nicely for two strangers having a conversation at the bus stop, otherwise I knew they'd want my "undesirable" queer ass to burn in hell.

So when met with a character like Joshua, he wasn't anything out of the ordinary for me. Instead, he felt like a trip back home. I could easily look past his alarming traits and see the person behind the religious talk, I've become desensitised.

I ask you to grant him the same grace, in the following conversation screenshots, to attempt to overlook the religious extremism and approach his words with a fresh open mind. Pretend he's talking about personal philosophy that he discovered or a new form of art he founded instead. Indulge me, to be able to see him in the same way I do.

I'd be lying if I said the protective way he spoke to V didn't stir something in me.

Because no one can even harm a hair on V's head if they tried, but Joshua doesn't know that. He isn't aware of V's reputation or extent of power. They're not someone you best easily. Getting shot and still keeping going is a daily occurrence to V.

Yet he's still gentle with us despite it. Soft with his words, merciful? Benevolent?

Little creepy.

Lonely. Incredibly so.

The way he speaks and holds himself is reminiscent of how stories portray kind yet wise prophets of the past. Asking the person paid to kill you to spend one day with you, willingly at that too, is something straight out of a bible story.

He has enough social awareness to realise Rachel's true views on him. He isn't stupid or naive, Joshua knows the studio is only helping him not out of the kindness of their heart, but to make money off of his death.

He knows what the lieutenant assigned to protect him actually thinks of him. A charlatan, a vile scum of a criminal that deserves death. Yet he risks upsetting Vasques just to stop him from shooting at you.

"I didn't like the way they looked at me, and I had the power to stop them"

Remorse and shame clear in his tone of voice, yet he doesn't try to evade the blame or clear his name. He takes it in stride, tells you why he really shot them after he robbed the story. He doesn't try to mask the truth and say they obstructed his escape, or that he only did it out of desperation for money.

No, he is upfront with his sins. He simply didn't like how they looked at him in fear and terror as if he was a monster.

And he held the power to stop them. Forever. Rather kill them than bruise his ego, than stain his conscience with a reminder of what he's done.

But that was in the past, the man in front of you turned a new leaf. Or so it seems.

"I truly need you."

"You're the one I want to talk to."

"Remain by my side and talk to me"

An artist needs an audience.

An idea is only relevant if it's being thought upon.

A show for one is still a show.

Vasques and Rachel are part of the cast, the opposing powers. Joshua needs someone with new eyes, someone to watch, to bear witness. V is that someone.

He truly needs you much like a painting set on fire needs an observer.

The mission continues afterwards, and he takes you to meet the sister of one of the people he killed. They talk, and you find out Joshua's true plan is.

Now, I don't think he actually thinks he's the messiah or a second coming of christ. It's easy to misinterpret it this way because of Joshua using Christ imagery in his choice of execution.

He understands art on a fundamental level. That's what makes him a good actor. He understands that if he wants to be a messiah, he'll need to go through the whole journey, not just the crucification part—which was done to Jesus against his will, yet Joshua is volunteering himself to it.

Instead, it's a display of love, not of divine powers.

If you've ever cosplayed a character, you'll understand this feeling. You would've felt a much less extreme version of what Joshua's feeling.

It is a cosplay to him. He knows he's not the messiah. But it's a cosplay done out of respect and love, an attempt to wake people up.

It's his unconditional love for his god, which he's showcasing that day, which in turn should prove the existence of god by virtue of its own existence.

He wants this display to be turned into a braindance so he can reach the general audience more easily. Because if what he truly feels at that moment is unconditional love and they get a glimpse of it while playing the BD, then it'd be as if his soul touched them, and maybe changed their views on life a little.

He's not trying to convert people by an execution garbed in holy robes, he's trying to convert them through hope and love, his own endless hope and love.

An honest attempt, by a person fully aware of the corruption that lurks at every corner in this world. Joshua is more of an artist who's using religion as a medium for his art rather than a holy figure. And art touches people just as well.

Does it ring a bell? Remind you of someone who once also tried to shake the world awake through his art?

Then there is the last line he said:

"Think of paid killers like you, V. Have you known love? Do you know what it is?"

And it stung.

The pure love V was shown in a city so vile.

The very same love Joshua hopes to show others that they're capable of.

The very same love Jackie and Mama Welles extended to you, Zuleikha has shown Joshua. If not even more. She reached out to the killer of her own brother, not for revenge to sate the burn in her heart with, but for a chance at mutual understanding.

She offered forgiveness.

You can sneak upstairs and read through her messages. You find out she greatly struggled with the loss of her brother, her journey through grief documenting through brief correspondences between her and the local priest.

That's how Zuleikha got the idea that unconditional love is the answer to this heartburn, how Joshua completely adapted her message.

And that family really struggled with loss. The room next to her is clearly her brother's room, left untouched still. His bed unmade, the same as the day he left it.

There was no bedroom for the mother, suggesting she slept on the couch or living room. Their family wasn't doing well financially, and yet the mother still sacrificed just to give her two children some comfort and privacy.

I switched to camera mode and attempted to read the scattered papers on Zuleikha'a desk. Just copy pasted assets, that, or apparently everyone in Night City owns a lease to a mango farm.

At the end of the mission, you get this conversation with Johnny.

He acts weird during it, doesn't he?

Unusually quiet at first, before V provokes him with the "Where's the rebel Johnny?"

Only for him to snap and admit that the real rebel was in this guy all along. This isn't the first time Johnny has shown surprisingly empathy to incredibly lonely people.

I thought it was strange that his hologram didn't disappear at the end of the conversation. Johnny goes from standing up to sitting down again. It was an active decision.

Until I turned back to look at him one last time before I left

And realised how familiar this scene felt.

Where have I seen this before?

Oh. Right.

Love it when devs have fun.

btw a bug happened here where the Mr. Stud ad got stuck onto the screen? No matter how much I waited, no new ad ever came. So, of course, knowing me, I absolutely did NOT take advantage of the situation to take some tantalising pictures.

Mhm not me sir not at all.

My hand slipped.... however

All night every night indeed.

-

It was by complete coincidence that I played these two missions back to back—now I can't help but see the blatant overlapping of what the studio is doing to Joshua, what the Johnny brainchip is doing to V's meatbrain, and what capitalism does to society in our real world.

Let's take a currently relevant example to the year 2025, Squid Game, the series. The first season was supposed to be the only season—much like the first world war was supposed to be only known as the Great War, but humanity never learns—It's a clear criticism of capitalism, it couldn't be more in your face with its message if it tries. You have to actively play a part in the downfall, therefore murder, of others in order to succeed. And when failure means death, succeeding becomes pure survival.

Because that's what money is, as it currently stands, isn't it? Having money means you can afford food, housing, and medication. Every means of survival once offered freely by nature has been stripped bare to make room for more factories, for more villas, for another Walmart parking lot. The weather is constantly setting new records for extreme temperatures every year. The odds of surviving without a roof over your head are getting slimer and slimer.

And Squid game took this line of logic and completely removed the middle man. It moved the finish line in front of the starting point. Shortened the sentence to "Money = the right to live"

All the silly games that mock its participants with its innate childishness and simplicity despite being a literal life or death stake. All the convoluted silly rules you have to abide by to keep a stable job if you happened to start from the bottom. How everything you've worked for, your whole life, can go astray because of a bad stroke of luck or some asshole who got away with it.

Yet look at the show now, turned into another byproduct of the market. The director abhors his creation as it's reduced to another fat, old gold vein for the studio to exploit.

Anything that aims to criticise Capitalism peacefuly, only ends up getting sucked into it instead, reinforcing the very same notion it was set out to destroy.

The 60 year old man who's dedicated his entire life to being a fanatic of Johnny's band, who memorised all the lyrics and knows all the trivial facts there is to know, shamelessly sells you the bootleg of Samurai's first gigs at a very steep price. The very same recorded bootleg of a free concert by people who didn't even know who Samurai were. They just liked the tunes and wanted to archive it. Sixty years, and yet the core message still flew over his head as he churned them into another niche band to make merch off and sell it on the street. The very same songs set out to criticise capitalism only to end up reinforcing it instead as they get sold for thousands of eddies by someone with zero right to sell them.

Knows all the lyrics but didn't understand a single word.

Going back to the parallels. Joshua's demise is inevitable, no matter what choices you make. His authenticity is only valued by how much it could improve the quality of the braindance, protected and nurtured by Rachel for its scarcity, therefore material value.

"It's programmed to take over its new environment, at all costs."

"No matter what, sooner or later, Capitalism wins?"

No matter how sincere of a message you hold in your heart, no matter how authentic and real, how pure your intentions are. Joshua only wanted to prove the existence of unconditional love, because if that could exist, then so could god, in his eyes.

It all ends up being exploited for the benefit of another who's trying to make bank in a certain market under the guise of helping you.

I post my sincere writings and thoughts on a website that bans trans people's accounts, a website that pushes mandatory ads on all of its users, that offers a premium subscription, that censors posts as it pleases to appease shareholders and ad companies. Yet still pushes ads that are just full on real life porn occasionally.

This website advertises itself as a safe place, who's not like those other evil websites ruined by greed. Whilst being overrun by pornbots and obnoxious premium subscription pop ups. And people make jokes of it now, blaze posts fot fun as a silly pvp war thing, pay the very same website to get a cool pin or two on their account. It's irony they claim, those tens of rainbow coloured checkmarks, it's to make fun of twitter checkmarks don't you get it? It's a silly haha joke, aimed to criticise consumerism! By paying ten times the price of the twitter checkmark just to get all the rainbow coloured ones on this website! Hell yeah! You're really sticking it up to the big man. Sick irony my dude.

Maybe that's why I felt sympathy for Joshua, comradery even. I saw myself in him. An incredibly lonely person whose got nothing to offer to this cruel world but their love and feelings in a form of art, who gets robbed of that too as it's used to exploit both the people who abhor and adore the art he has to offer.

I deeply apologise to you, the one reading this, for every time you went to check my blog or reread a story and saw an ad pushed into you between my writing. I'm very sorry we're both being played for idiots in this, that my art was twisted into something to take advantage of my readers for a website to earn literal pennies.

Lastly, Johnny. Our prima donna of examples.

He dedicated his whole life to destroy this one thing, only to end up having his soul sucked out and put on a parasitic brainchip.

And what does he do in this situation? Becomes the very same thing he swore to destroy. He takes and takes from V, couldn't care less that they're a person, he will do everything he can to achieve his goal—doesn't matter what the goal is—what matters is that if he needs V's body to achieve it, he will take it by force.

Every attempt to connect and sympathise with him is twisted by Johnny for him to gain more leverage over you, to sneak that brainchip percentage even a decimal higher while you're busy bearing your heart to him.

Embodying the very same methods of capitalism, the very same soul sucking endless consumerism ways. Except with your life now, your brain, your body, everything you are.

He was quiet during the Joshua quest at the end. "Where's the rebel, Johnny?" V said. He saw himself in him, the very same passion, the sincerity, the unbridled authentic drive for a noble cause.

It's a mirror to what could've become of Johnny's own heart and feelings if he hadn't left the band, turned against him into another tool of capitalism. At one point, it must have clicked that he couldn't change the world through songs.

It was also the closest he got to glimpsing the reality of his current actions, what he's done to you.

"And you're fucked up because of my fucked up head inside you."

He sat there and made a choice that day, to keep doing it, keep paving this path. If the veil to self-awareness got lifted for a second there, Johnny immediately boarded up the windows with wooden panels the next second.

What difference would one life—yours—make when he's already sacrificed a lot more innocents than you when he first blew up Arasaka tower? Shooting at the innocent and the guilty with willful ignorance.

He knows all the lyrics, but he doesn't understand the words. He'll live and die by the very same notions he never fully deciphered.

Johnny isn't the antagonist because he set out to destroy our lord and savour Capitalism, Johnny is the antagonist because he attempted to dismantle Capitalism using the very same methods of Capitalism.

It's like we're in the trolley problem, and Johnny decided to bomb the whole traintrack. Train, conductor, track, and people tied to the track included. Then he clutches his pearls when a few weeks later, they build a new bigger train and a sturdier track with even more people tied to the track.

You cannot "eradicate entropy" when you're goddamn spreading it yourself in a different flavour Johnny!

His long rehearsed speech about the plague of capitalism at the end of the mission. How the words rhyme, how he stood up to yell it out loud, pacing around and looking down at you. Filer words and abstract descriptions ment to target your heartstrings, to ignite the dormat anger inside your mind in the name of ending some vague injustice.

All very much resembling a speech given by your favourite artist upon a stage, at the end of a glass-shattering song, as you stood there sweaty and unclothed as the day you were born, looking up at him in awe as if he was a god, convinced his words were gospel as the adrenaline still pumped in your veins.

How it almost worked on V who just threw up half the sludge of their brain's viscera on the pavement.

How the irony of how much he was describing his current parasitic self during it, was lost him.

How I fear I am the very same. I play predatory gambling games, I mindlessly buy things I'll never use during sales, I preach and preach but in reality I find myself contradicting the claims I make a lot. By my own standards I don't even come close to meeting the ethical measures I set on others, I wouldn't be friends with me If I knew me.

[yoonyeon0]

⚠ WARNING ⚠ DANGEROUS RANT, MENTIONS OF Y***GAHAMA, TYPOS, TYPOS, TYPOS, ABSOLUTELY NONSENSE AND PURE PRIMAL LOVE. (never said that phrase in my whole life)

Read with cation.

YESSS GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!

#mymanmyman #hottie #pegginghiminthebackofthebus #waithemight lowkbeabottom 😍 #ilohmatokita

two of my FAVORITE men in the same damn panel at the end of the year. 2025 will be good.

lowkey I love seeing kengan men beat up

NOT A MASOCHISTIC KINK BTW

they just literally look sm hotter on the brink of death

like look at fei wangfang.

he was dying but he still served cunt somehow???

now all I need is a shen with hair down while wet appearance and IT WILL BE DONE!

still haven't recovered from the last shen with hair down. he is so baby girl but NOBODY understands

anyway I'm kinda excited to see where this jun vs ohma rematch is gonna go

ngl if ohms wins I won't be surprised bc...plot and shit but if Jun wins I'll be baffled

highly unlikely though.

IM GLAD THAT MOTHAFUCKER BITCH GOT HIS SHIT ROCKED

he actually looks like a cockroach I'm repulsed.

ANYWAY

awwhwh he's so cutest and so kawaii

I could eat him. He looks edible. I love shen wulong. Yes. #hottieofthecentury

this rant is one of everything because I have been missing A LOT

but dw.

I'm back for good.

anyway i am NOT prepared for 2025 but I mean you gotta do what you gotta do

I have been watching squid game and I wonder how the kengan cast would do in the squid game.

other than fucking kill everyone there with their bare hands ofc bcs well.

I feel like shen would play along just for the shits and giggles which is #real

but other than that I think it's bold of me to assume that any of those kengan players are going down without a fight

bro if that's for kengan...imagine baki.

bro nah that's absolutely insane and scary to think abt.

literally I would just quit. like give up. no point.

like imagine fucking DOPPO literally looking at you with murder on his mind bcs well...you killed people with their consent (kinda??)

I'd cry.

like hello.

don't even get me STARTED on hanayama

I don't have beef with him it's just he's is so scary to me.

Literally I would fold under his gaze both because I'm scared and I am romantically sparked.

Well.

Anyway I have A LOT to rant abt baki because that show is so funny but at the same time low-key kinda deep (maybe I'm too brainrotted) but I'll leave that for another time.

this rant was high-key shorter than the others lol but catch yall later because it's way too damn late for me to be doing this shit 😭😭😅

[weekendcuckdate]

You met Seth??? TWICE in one month??

YEAH lmfao i saw him do standup with john oliver on 10/20 of last month and met him afterwards (some of the pictures seen below) and i had a very nice talk with him! i got to tell him my boyfriend and i met bc we were both jackals and then almost in comedic timing we both corrected him on past errors he had made on corrections before i gave him some bracelets i made for him. oliver came out about 30 minutes after the show was over and we waited outside for seth for almost an hour and a half. my friends and i literally started socializing with his car driver waiting for him to come out. he's very much a diva.

on 10/28 my boyfriend and i ended up going to a late night taping (brooks wheelan and molly shannon were our guests) and we both got to ask him questions during q&a (in which he definitely recognized us, as my boyfriend and i have very unnaturally colored dyed hair, and he lowkey had a look of "I know you two" in his eyes)

my boyfriend asked about frisbee (in which seth said she was doing good despite her old age, said she sleeps most of the time, and then compared her to a spider when it comes to her leaving her doggy bed), and i asked about the 2004 film See This Movie, where he cut me off mid question to take credit for the movie, said he remembered filming it, said the name was unfortunate because looking it up just leads to other movies in the search results, and then said it was Not a good movie, in fact if i remember he called it "Terrible" (which is true, but funny he is self aware). seth was also fidgeting around a lot during my interaction with him during this.

if you watch that episodes a closer look, you can hear me as the only one going crazy and cheering over the jizz in my pants clip and then the mention of the tlism podcast.

[itsjaywalkers]

Ok I’m curious af so rank your jegulus’s from most kinky to least kinky. If you would like to include examples they are more than welcome but not necessary.

Thank you for your time,

Kink Nonnie

THIS ONE IS SOOOO FUN i'm always down to talk about kink especially if it's related to jeggy <333 and since most of my wips haven't been posted yet i don't wanna give too many examples bc . spoilers . but i can share a few things ofc!! here we go <3

boxer au jeggy. god they're always at the top this is starting to get emabrrassing but it's true !! it's my filthiest james without a doubt and reg is also quite the menace in this one. we're talking exhibitionism vouyeurism edging overstimulation dom/sub dynamics spanking slapping etc etc. james gets aggressive and possessive and reg turns into putty in his hands BUT they also switch and reg absolutely fucks the cockiness out of james until he's a crying writhing mess. but yeah they have no shame and they'd try everything under the sun. also if one of my jeggys had a pissing kink, it'd be them 100%

feeling good jeggy. new entrance!! the 2nd place used to belong to oby BUT i've been . outlining a bit more of this fic and had a few realisations. we're talking corruption kink virginity kink spit kink a bit of exhibitionism and possibly some cnc too!! this james may not be as filthy (sexually wise) as boxer au james buuuuuut he's meaner and a shittier person and he's only here to seduce regulus and steal all his money (at first) so he pulls all the stops <3 they're quite wild and this reg begins as my most "innocent" inexperienced one and ends up becoming . well . something else entirely

oby jeggy. my beloveds <3 we already know most of their kinks by heart, and even though all of my james have some level of oral fixation, oby james wins!! he can come just by eating reg out and he's happy whenever he gets him to sit on his face. they almost never do it in a bed like normal people, or even in either of their flats. the riskier the place, the better, and they're gonna end up traumatising someone at this rate. also <3 kings of the daddy kink <3 i think fucked up road trip jeggy have it too, and probably also boxer au jeggy but they're the blueprint!! especially bc it wasn't even planned in the first place

nothing happens jeggy. they used to be a bit lower but i've realised a few things about them too lately.. their dirty talking goes HARD because nh james needs urgent psychological help (reg too tbh) and he gets very cruel and degrading sometimes. they also have a severe breeding kink and . kinda a cheating kink like . it doesn't start that way but at a certain point i think they find it very hot, the fact that the other is always gonna cheat for them!! or at least reg does, bc we all know james takes a while to realise what he's been doing it's actual cheating. there's also a scene in which james forces reg to call his bf at the time while he's fucking him................... Yeah

fucked up road trip fic jeggy. they're quite kinky but since they're in a life or death situation and surrounded by quite a few ppl and getting some time alone is very difficult . they can never get as kinky as they could in different circumstances yk? they do have a daddy kink and there's quite the age gap!! also the fact that james is married and his son is only like . 5 years younger than reg . which is definitely Something . also the desperation whenever they fuck is at a whole other level bc they come close to dying a few times (and they might actually die at the end of the story.......... i'm still debating it tbh). and also they make out/have actual sex in very vulnerable moments or after someone else has been killed or tortured which is lowkey questionable so

making ghosts jeggy. again at the end </3 my poor babies they deserve better.. nah but seriously this place is mostly due to the fact that it’s my softest story and not as explicit or sex heavy as some of my other stories!! this is my most submissive james without a doubt tho and there’s a lot of begging and teasing and trying to keep quiet when they fuck behind closed door bc they keep their relationship secret for . a While . there’s this scene of sirius talking to james through his bedroom door and very confused bc james won’t let him in while reg is sucking james off on the other side.. so yeah very kinky still <3

[angelontheatrain]

hi gang my christmas hasn’t really been the best either so I feel u. anyways im beyond jealous of ur haul bc I’m buying all of my gifts myself and I hate to part with all my cash 😔✊ ive been dying for a wah pedal tho so I can’t really complain

also any new music recs or just songs to revisit?? i trust ur opinion and I know my king would never fail me 👑

the Divorce is terrible but at least my mother absolutely cooked with the gifts this year truly her magnum opus…im lucky there at least. but augh yes get that wah pedal that’s so fire

RUNNING to spotify to dish up a playlist for u right now

ok this lowkey got big so. 100 songs ive been listening to lately and also think you would like. some of these are definitely gonna be revisits for you, but i think some of them will be new also. there’s no genre theme at all it’s all over the place but hopefully you like it :)

[onlyjaeyun]

you dont ever have to apologize for being quiet zadie baby! hope youre doing okay and taking care of yourself🫶

i have been in such a sunoo brainrot lately EHSBEJ its so bad,,,not really bc nothing relating to sunoo could ever be bad

im seeing ive this month!! im so excited and i. got a mini eyeshadow palette bc im trying to get better with makeup :3 think im gonna order a new liptint later too,hopefully i like it my friends and i r gonna touch up my hair next weekend (its purple and i need my roots dyed)

as for smaus…i need the member to be a loser thats hot‼️ and they r very loserish (affectionate) in real life ! i cant stop thinking about ur next jake smau imma feel so bad for him😭

also went crazy for the valentines sales in cats&soup….omg sorry im fluent in yapanese

HELLO BABY!!!!🥺🥺🥺 firstly thank you so so much for your words of reassurance, they really mean a lot to me 🥺🩷

you're SO real for the sunoo brainrot bc man's been looking a little too fine for my liking lately 🤥

AAAH IM SO EXCITED FOR YOU OMG!!! ive seen vids of their concerts and they all look SO fucking good, cant wait for your post-concert update!!! i hope you have the best time my love i know youre gonna look BOMB!🩷

urgh, im lowkey dreading my next jake smau because im gonna put my baby in SO much pain i HATE myself already but he's gonna be a bit of a loser or like im gonna try my best to make him as realistic as possible (so it hurts even more haha!🥰)

AAAAAH YOUR EUNCHAO KITTY AND PUPU ARE THE CUTEST EVERRRR 🥺🥺🥺 honestly youre so real for that bc i wish i would have soent my hearts a little wiser 🤥

ilysm baby!

[nobuouematsu]

hello LGBTs sorry i haven't been posting i rearranged my home screen and put this app in a folder so i keep forgetting to check it but im not dead. also i dyed my hair pink and found out im bisexual and a really cringe hyperfixation that i had in my late teens has come back and has destroyed my life lowkey bc im almost 30 and this is ridiculous and my cat is out of remission and has diabetes again. how has everyone else been