gothregulus

[gothregulus]

[gothregulus]

[gothregulus]

Regulus "the favorite son" Black

(watch me poke at pieces of canon and add on to it. Regulus being the favorite son always piqued my interest, especially with the way people pretend this isn't the case at all.)

‘He was younger than me,’ said Sirius, ‘and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.’ — Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

He was everyone's favorite. He was Narcissa's favorite. He was Bella's. He was their mother's precious doll. He was also, undeniably, Sirius' favorite person. Kreacher would die for Regulus!

He was soft because he was spoiled rotten. He could never do anything wrong. He was so smart and cheeky. He was never as loud as Sirius, but while Sirius sought after everyone's attention, Regulus felt entitled to people's affections.

(Andy adored Regulus too, but Sirius' fire and forward charisma is what puts her firmly on Sirius' side.)

Probably why Regulus increasingly got on the defensive when Sirius started calling him out for saying the wrong things. Probably felt hurt that he was suddenly "wrong" when he's been told that, that simply wasn't possible. However, an important thing to remember is that being everyone's favorite probably affected Regulus too. He was always eager to please and preened under people's affections.

Especially when he's seen Sirius, primed to be the heir, slowly but no less cruelly, fall from grace the more he went against the family values. Not only has Regulus grown used to everyone doting on him (and therefore yearns for it), but he's also seen what happens when the family stops treating its children as something precious.

Andromeda had long stopped being valued, and as time passed, he'd have seen them value Sirius less and less. The family didn't need to pull on violence to be cruel, they relied on the withdrawal of all they've been used to: the withdrawal of love, attention, respect, resources, shelter, and home.

Regulus was raised on milk and sugar.

All of which turned sour inside Sirius' mouth, the more he opened his eyes. Nothing his family could've done would've stood up to the months, years, in Hogwarts, cocooned in counter propaganda — befriending Gryffindors, sleeping with Gryffindors, eating with Gryffindors, surrounded in the culture of it all. And nothing that Sirius could've said to Regulus would've amounted to what Regulus experienced growing up, dressed in green regalia, celebrated in Slytherin, embraced in the society he was born in. Regulus goes to school to study, eat, sleep, bathe, and go to class with children who've been taught the same things and goes home to a place that all but confirms everything he's been taught.

All of Regulus' life sadly, unfortunately, tragically, made sense.

Sirius, since turning 11, grew up with increasing dissonance and discomfort towards the illusion and poison that comes with blood supremacy.

All of Regulus' life, except for the last couple years of it, had been relatively peaceful compared to Sirius' increasing disillusion. To him, it was Sirius who didn't make sense. Sirius was the odd one out of his family. Just like the few "odd" ones that get pruned off of their tree.

And I'm pretty sure he took Sirius leaving, personally. Pretty sure waaaay before that, when Sirius was genuinely trying to fight Regulus on his beliefs (because Sirius wasn't ready to give up on his baby brother yet, when he believed there was still a fight to be fought), Regulus took it personally too, and with rising panic because he saw it as falling out of Sirius' favor when Sirius was only truly growing desperate to unhook the claws buried in his brother's psyche.

His stupid, fucking brother. Soft and spoiled rotten.

He used to spoil Regulus too. Brilliant, smart, but oh so ignorant.

—

Funny how the favoritism that had protected and kept Regulus warm, probably isolated him too, during the days he actually needed people on his side. Because the brand of favoritism he'd gotten used to wouldn't keep him safe from the brand on his arm... burning and coiling under his skin.

The more everyone fought with Sirius, the more his parents fell back on their adoration for him. That Regulus couldn't and wouldn't ever do what Sirius had done. That he would never leave them, that he'd show Sirius what it meant to be the perfect son, and that he should! The praise came with price and an obligation, because he was so perfect, anything else other than perfection would've been unimaginable.

He was perfect! And that meant anything Sirius would do, he could — no, should smooth over. For the family... like the perfect boy he is. He was the white paint over his brother's mess. The cover to his family's embarrassment.

Thick, syrupy affection that was wool over his eyes, now looped around his neck as he entered the cave with Kreacher.

[gothregulus]

regulus footjobs for my mutuals

[gothregulus]

new ship: gojo x regulus i dont even care anymore

[gothregulus]

I love chain lightening what a classic spell. fuck you and you and you and you and you and

[gothregulus]

new ship: gojo x regulus i dont even care anymore

[gothregulus]

regulus IS prep nerd jock goth energy All at once When will your fave ever

[gothregulus]

angsty loverboy reg is so much better than aloof lonewolf reg

[gothregulus]

The Black Family ‘Madness’ Trope: A Critical Analysis

I will start this meta by saying I’m not the fandom morality police, and people can write and explore what they want. 

However, we sometimes need to unpack popular tropes in order to examine where they come from, what societal trends they reflect, and what literary traditions they speak to.

In this case, I want to explore the “Black family madness” trope and its implications, particularly its ties to the Gothic literary tradition, ableism, and gendered narratives of mental health. 

Importantly, the term “madness” is so profoundly loaded.  It has historically been used to dismiss, pathologise, and other individuals experiencing mental distress, stripping away their humanity and turning them into objects of fear or ridicule or a source of morbid entertainment. Even today, it often conflates vastly different experiences `(mental illness, trauma, grief) into a single, reductive concept.

When viewed in the context of the Black family, fandom uses ‘madness’ as an undefined, catch-all label. It’s thrown around to broadly explain behaviour, dysfunction, or cruelty without any meaningful exploration of what it actually entails. This vagueness is deeply problematic, as it reduces mental distress to a simplistic, monolithic concept rather than recognising the nuanced and varied experiences it represents. 

This lack of specificity gives it an almost caricatured quality, evoking characters like Renfield from Dracula, where madness becomes an aesthetic of grotesquerie rather than a nuanced reflection of mental health.

And this warrants critical examination.

1.0 The consanguinity of it all.

I have to start with science, as much of the discourse around “Black family madness” focuses on inbreeding or consanguinity, with a particular focus on the marriage of Walburga and Orion (who are second cousins)/ 

However, this idea doesn’t hold up under scrutiny—either scientifically or narratively.

Second cousins share about 3.125% of their DNA, a negligible amount from a genetic perspective.

 To put this into context, the general population shares, on average, about 1% of their genetic material with any random individual, meaning second-cousin marriages increase genetic overlap only slightly. Even first-cousin marriages, which share 12.5% of DNA, while not advised, do not guarantee the passing on of recessive disorders or significant genetic risk. This is due to the role of epigenetics and genetic variability during zygote formation, which can influence the expression of genes and mitigate the inheritance of certain recessive traits. In the case of second-cousin marriages, where the genetic overlap is even smaller, the likelihood of hereditary issues is further reduced (although it does increase the odds within a small community it’s not a guarantee). 

Furthermore, it’s worth noting that Orion and Walburga are the only example of a second-cousin marriage in the Black family tree, making it strange that “madness” is so broadly attributed to the family as a whole. 

Other family members married into other pureblood families including the Potters, Malfoys, Longbottoms, and Macmillans—none of whom are labelled as “mad” in fandom discourse.

Also, Bellatrix who often does bear the brunt of madness discourse, is not directly descended from Orion and Walburga and, therefore, wouldn’t be affected by this supposed hereditary instability (yet she is frequently framed as the epitome of “Black family madness.”)

Futhermore, we need to confront an uncomfortable truth: genetics, as a field, is relatively new. For most of human history, we had no understanding of DNA, recessive genes, or the risks of consanguinity. The reality is that most of us are far more products of consanguinity than we’d like to admit. Before modern transportation, people lived in small, isolated communities, often marrying within their local network (which frequently meant distant relatives). Yet humanity persisted, and the widespread dysfunction assumed in discussions of the Black family’s genetic "madness" is not reflected in the reality of human history.

This overemphasis on consanguinity also carries echoes of Victorian pseudoscience, where inherited “madness” was often used to stigmatise families and individuals as morally or biologically corrupt. 

2.0 Abelism but make it gothic

Finally, moving away from science (and my own flashbacks of having to wear a lab coat every day), it’s important to examine how the “Black family madness” trope fits within Gothic literary traditions—and how fandom has amplified it.

The Blacks are steeped in Gothic tropes. They are a family who has crumbled under the weight of their own hubris, trapped in a decaying house filled with bottles of blood and knives (ngl, it is a vibe). Their tragedy is almost operatic (someone really needs to seance Puccini and get him to write The Fall of the House of Black).

Fandom’s embrace of the “madness” trope often centres on Walburga’s portrait, where she is described as shrieking, claw-like, and grotesque. This imagery has been seized upon as evidence of hereditary instability within the Black family. However, it’s worth noting that canon never confirms this idea. Instead, Walburga’s depiction leans heavily on Gothic conventions, where madness often serves as shorthand for moral or hereditary corruption rather than a nuanced exploration of mental health.

This framing, while aesthetically in line with Gothic traditions, leans heavily into ableist narratives. By turning mental illness into spectacle, it dehumanises characters and perpetuates harmful real-world stigmas about mental health. Madness becomes something grotesque, isolating individuals and reducing them to objects of voyeuristic fascination—cautionary tales rather than complex individuals.

And yet, this framing isn’t applied equally across the family. Male characters like Regulus or Orion are rarely labelled as mad, despite their struggles or dysfunctions. Similarly, Narcissa, who arguably embodies the Wizarding World’s ideals of femininity (read: motherhood), is spared this label. This selective application reveals how the Gothic’s obsession with madness intersects with its deeply gendered lens, which we’ll explore next

2.1 Gothic Tropes and Gendered Madness

In Gothic literature, madness often has a distinctly gendered lens, with women’s emotional and mental health struggles frequently pathologised as symbols of hysteria or instability. This tradition continues in the portrayal of Black family women, who bear the brunt of the “madness” trope.

Some fandom interpretations wouldn’t look out of place at a Victorian doctor’s convention where they’re designing vibrators to treat “hysteria.” Female characters’ grief, anger, or ideological conviction are persistently reduced to vague notions of madness, as if their emotions are inherently excessive or irrational. Instead of nuanced examinations, their struggles are framed as aberrations, fitting neatly into the trope of the “hysterical woman.”

This framing erases the complexities of Black family women, leaning on misogynistic traditions where women’s mental health is weaponised against them. Their distress is rarely explored as a response to systemic oppression, personal loss, or ideological indoctrination but is instead transformed into spectacle—a way to dehumanise them and dismiss their perspectives.

Characters like Walburga and Bellatrix are cast as emotionally unbalanced, their behaviours dismissed as irrational shrieking rather than the product of their circumstances and choices. This pattern is far from new; Gothic literature has long used the “madwoman” archetype to punish women who deviate from societal norms.

Bertha Mason from Jane Eyre is a prime example. Locked in an attic, her “madness” is attributed to supposed sexual excesses and moral degeneracy, reinforcing Victorian beliefs that tied women’s mental health to their purity—or lack thereof. Stripped of her humanity, Bertha becomes a monstrous figure, a cautionary tale about the dangers of female desire and independence. Similarly, in The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman critiques how patriarchal systems dismissed women’s mental health. The protagonist’s postpartum depression is labelled as “hysteria,” and her prescribed “rest cure” exacerbates her decline.

These tropes are mirrored in the portrayal of Black family women. Walburga’s grief, anger, and ideological rigidity are reduced to insanity, rendering her a shrieking, clawed portrait rather than a woman grappling with immense loss. Bellatrix’s fanaticism and violence are similarly dismissed as unhinged madness, ignoring the ideological indoctrination and personal choices that shaped her.

Such portrayals flatten these characters, perpetuating harmful cultural narratives and the “hysterical woman” trope ultimately delegitimises women’s voices and experiences. 

The Gothic’s obsession with tainted bloodlines and hereditary madness also intersects with colonial anxieties about purity and degeneration. Victorian Gothic literature often used madness to represent racial and cultural “otherness,” dehumanising those considered outside the norm.

In conclusion, tropes like this need a critical eye. It’s important to recognise where pervasive ideas come from and what they’re perpetuating, both in fiction and beyond. These are just stories, yes, but what is fiction if not a reflection of reality? When we allow tropes like “Black family madness” to go unexamined, we risk reinforcing harmful stereotypes and flattening characters into tired archetypes

[gothregulus]

[gothregulus]

walburga calls regulus 宝贝

[gothregulus]

stop talking about the marauders. I have heard enough about that wretched place

[gothregulus]

I hate all of you

[gothregulus]

Mostly a fit study but also a contribution to white streak!regulus because I’m obsessed

[gothregulus]

残酷な神が支配する / A Cruel God Reigns, Hagio Moto

[gothregulus]

as above (insane in the head) so below (insane in the pussy)