#forgetful fuckup

[noranekorin]

As someone who has never watched this,I shall bestow Yzma the title of forgetful fuckup

"why do we even have that lever" is made funnier by the fact there are only 2 levers to begin with (disguised as a pair of tusks on a statue)

i find the implications hilarious:

kronk only had to remember the location of one lever, and couldn't even manage that

but on the other hand, it's easy to get two identical unlabelled levers confused, this one's on yzma tbh

yzma only needed to make one lever to begin with, but she actively chose to turn the second tusk into a functioning trapdoor. she could have just...just not connected the second tusk to anything. it didn't need to have a function

upon reflection, this also answers the question itself: "why do we even HAVE that lever?" it's because yzma herself specifically designed it as a booby trap. "why do we have that lever?" because yzma had it built to keep people out of her secret lair! yzma made the very purposeful choice to put that lever there! and then both she and her inept henchman immediately forgot about her own booby trap! yzma that is YOUR LEVER!!!!!

[emryarts]

Damn, wish he'd left them there...

Should i be working on artfight? Maybe so

However the brainworms are stronger and im actually the funniest person ever

Original from @t.willy2 on tiktok/insta

[parasolemn]

[Image description: In the first image, Harry Du Bois and Kim Kitsuragi are sitting on the swingset waiting for the tide to recede to investigate the crashed motor carriage. Harry is trying (and failing) to whistle. The dialogue reads: DRAMA - Spit flies from your mouth to your moustache, your chest, the ground before you... No sound though. HORRIFIC NECKTIE - Raining heavily here, chief - mind keeping it down a bit? KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant must think it's rather funny/ He smiles and quickly turns away. In the second image, Harry gives Kim an exasperated look. The dialogue reads: DRAMA - He's gloating at you. Oh, it's so easy for Mr. Teacher! HARRY - "I would like to see you try in this bloody wind." KIM KITSURAGI - With his lips puckered the lieutenant lets out a beautiful melodic trill that puts even the Insulindic thrush to shame. The third image is a shot of the pair sitting on the swingset from behind. The text reads: You hear the sound echo on the large body of water. Clouds race across the spring sky and suddenly you just feel better. About everything. Kim's whistling heals Harry's morale. End ID]

Running behind time rn, might have to skip over Conceptualization to get back on track. sorry!!! I know this isn't *really* focused on Drama, but it's my favourite Drama check, so... Don't worry, there are far more egregious things in my list 🙏 Also - no extra Dramas today. I've never drawn her in all her effervescence before.

[ereborne]

What is a Monday? A miserable little pile of obligations.

semester turnover restructure

generate/send out error reporting

figure out how to separate out unique counts

create polite reply to Massive Dick Move email

finish the bad book >:(

bò kho (not an obligation. dinner)

laundry

lizard bath

[cyberstabbing]

i'm at my mom's friendsgiving and i want to go home and not speak So fucking bad. so tired and i hate talking to her friends' kids about their jobs at their dad's law firms etc. please let me be mediocre and a fuckup in peace. also there's no cornbread

[homoerotic-shonen-rival-showdown]

I love seeing ppl playfully trash on their anime/manga that have the same amount of stupid shit as my anime/manga hyperfixation so I can watch and go

"yeah buddy me too... Stupid shit happening !! :3"

yeah from what I've gathered mirai nikki and shaman king have a similar flavour of stupid. and I do love to trash on my beloved

you have unlocked an excuse for me to infodump please stand by

the anime adaptation of flowers (the sequel to the kanzenban/2021 version) is coming out next janurary. I am very excited for this. I have absolutely zero faith in it being good. shaman king flowers has about 11 chapters of being fun before it devolves into bad fanfic of the author's own story. I'm so pumped for the anime it's gonna suck so bad

I also have a very deep love for the 4kids dub of the 2001 anime (yes it's one of Those). given that shaman king is already batshit insane enough you can imagine how that went. they gave ren an over the top british accent. he is so very not british. they gave lyserg an american accent. he is so very british. it's art

[queerpyracy]

how many more years do i have to bake cattern cakes before they are a familiar concept to my father that i no longer have to explain. we are on year 3

[tybaltsjuliet]

i will say, from. personal experience. approach penny dreadful prepared for fandom-typical disappointment if you are going in for the queer themes, though.

[bambi-nicky]

booping the moots to forget the horrors 😔

[arionwind]

Genuine question because I have seen this post and tons like it from ostensible allies of trans jews like me over the last couple days: Is this kind of post lashing out at the people trying to play this game actually going to accomplish anything with the kind of audience you have curated here?

Because personally, I have long since gotten into the habit of blocking the stubbornly redeemable bigots who follow me - don't want that sort of person being able to use me to find the trans and jewish people I like to interact with and lash out at them, so I cut them off.

Because of that, if I reblog things like this and other posts attacking people who refuse to avoid the game, I can be pretty confident that I'm not gonna actually reach or hurt any of the intended targets. And while it's definitely not going to signal my other trans and jewish friends that I am a friend to bigots, it's probably not the comfort that you think for us to keep seeing this kind of thing - especially without more uplifting alternatives, like links Eurogamer's Mermaids charity stream the other day or RPS's week-long coverage of non-HP games with similar but less toxic vibes.

Because speaking for myself, this post is a reminder I don't need that plenty of people out there would rather I never existed at all, and it does nothing to soothe any of the reopened hurt that reminder causes. And the people I see most pushing this sort of aggressive attack against the game? They tend to lack in any suggestions for positive activism at all, and even when they are present, it is so rare and low a priority as to be drowned out by the fury.

[seattlesellie]

Jealous. 🎀

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

cw: mean dom!ellie sub!reader, jealous kinda toxic ellie, eating it through the panties, orgasm denial, spit play (literally spits down ur panties like), exhibitionism, some dude named michael.

an: pls be gentle, i haven’t written in a long time! 💗 credit to angel gbc for the mod used in the picture above <3

something we can all agree on is the importance of aftercare — right?

Ellie is big on that obviously, as she should. Caressing her slim fingers down your body, planting wanton kisses on your shoulders, running her palms across your shaky thighs, whispering words of encouragement in your ear;

“Did so good for me, babe”

“I love you, so much”

“Need anything? hm?” She’d murmur against your skin whilst cradling your body from behind.

And she always insists on cleaning you up. She consistently renders you nothing but an achy mess, dried up juices staining your wobbly jelly thighs, combined sweat on your breasts and ribs, back of your neck. The ritual of bringing a wet towel to bed, swiping it’s fabric across your inner thighs, your face, your behind — is a sacred one for her. Not solely because she loves hearing your sweet, exhausted sighs of relief as she cleans the soil away, but also not solely because she gets to see your naked body in all of its glory again.

It’s the act of taking care of what’s hers. In a way, when she wipes your cum away, she’s taking care of herself — too.

Here, lays a solid proof that she can break things apart and put them back together again. She’s not a total fucking fuckup.

The ability of making you scream and cry, then moments later have you whisper in that saccharine voice of yours an airy “love you s’much, Els…”

It’s fucking exhilarating.

She loves it every time, she does it every time.

But today… today you pissed her off. You poked the bear, for real this time.

There’s this new Michael guy in Jackson. He’s handsome, tall, has coal black curls that somehow stay soft and shiny even in this apocalyptic hellscape. He told Ellie and you where he was from, what he did, why he came. Ellie didn’t listen to a thing he was saying. It was like he turned into a fly and started loudly buzzing in her ear. He kept looking at you weird. Smiling at you, smirking, laughing at your jokes, even the ones that weren’t all that funny. She knows you have this affect on people, that damn charm, hell — you have this affect on her.

And she’s usually just playfully jealous, manages to keep it relatively tame and simple by tightening her grip on your waist.

But you just wouldn’t stop bringing him up. “Michael” this, and “Michael” that, “Michael invited us for dinner”, “Michael said this funny thing earlier”,

For all Ellie knows Michael could die in a ditch and she wouldn’t give a fuck.

You're on your way back home from the Tipsy Bison on a chilly Thursday night. Jesse was there, Dina, Maria... and Michael. She thinks of his name and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, tart, pungent.

"Meh, I'm more of a Tequila girl, Whiskey tastes like shit" you announced with a giggle. Michael rested his hand on your thigh, and agreed with a nod and a chuckle. For you, it meant nothing.

For Ellie, it meant everything.

Her blood pressure was usually low, steady, healthy as a bull. As of now, Ellie felt like she just ran a marathon. The blood rushed to her head and her brows furrowed without intention. She cracks her neck and moves it left and right, takes a long and burning sip out of her Whiskey and shuts her eyes. She repeats a mantra in her head; "I'm not angry, I'm not angry, It's fine."

But you're so damn intuitive.

"Els? y'tired?" you murmur towards your auburnette girlfriend. She suckles on her bottom lip and considers saying no, but she lies.

"Exhausted"

You leave the humble bar hand in hand, wrapped up in her big coat that smells of mint and wood and Ellie. She prays you won't mention his name, prays you could just go home and forget about this whole thing, but you do, innocently.

"Oh, Michael said one of the horses is sick, I'm thinking of helping out in the barn tomorrow an—"

She stops you mid sentence with a scoff and a tightening grip on your hand. "Oh, mhm, Michael said that?"

Her voice mocks your own a little.

You stop and shift your gaze towards Ellie who has her lips tucked in a tight line. Internally, she's cussing herself out. You don't deserve her anger, but she can't help herself. Your answer is an unsure hum. Her grip tightens even more, and it hurts your palm but you keep on walking side by side, quietly. Five minutes manage to pass with no words being muttered by no one. That's until she shakes her head and lets go of a husky chuckle.

"Did I do something?", you mutter doe eyed. Ellie stops in her tracks and inhales. She grabs you by your waist and walks towards you, making you have to clumsily pace backwards until your back meets a cold grey brick wall with a resounding thud. "Uhg!" You hiccup, breath catching down your throat. You even sweetly giggle, thinking in your head that this could possibly be just a sweet attack of PDA.

But her eyes are dark, gone from emerald to pine, pupils pitch black as big as a button. Her warm whiskey breath meets your nose and your top lip, you gulp. Why isn't she laughing? teasing?

"El?" your voice is still candied, always. Ellies mouth is agape, scarred eyebrows scrunched and furrowed as if she's confused, or pissed, or provoked. Her forehead meets yours so automatically, you attempt to connect your lips with a kiss but she backs away meanly. Albeit her taunting position, how intimidating and truly scary she looks whilst you're caged within her frame, your'e still smiling, you're still thinking she's just teasing.

You're not used to this, she knows, but god knows she yearns to teach you a lesson.

You don't fuck with what's hers.

She licks her bottom lip before she starts speaking.

"Take off your skirt"

Her voice nearly renders you drunk, It's huskiness, gruffness, it's depth, and really, you've only had one shot. Your cheeks heat up and your ears feel as if they're nearly burning. Her lips are so damn close to yours and she still won't let you kiss her.

"Wh... we're in public, we can't—" you stutter, eyes shifting downwards towards the knee she has shoved near your barely covered crotch. When she brings it upwards just to brush delicately on your inner thigh, you let go of a small gasp.

She responds to your gasp with a barely audible "Mhm?", her eyes sharpening with intent.

"Yes we can", she tsk's, and her voice taunts. Her eyes graze over your face, and you expect her next sentence to bite like the last one did, but her voice goes softer. "For me?", she cocks her head to the side.

And it simply pushes you over the edge.

You peel your skirt off of your body, asscheeks plastered over the brick wall as her body squeezes you further back, and you're left half naked with a piece of fabric scrunched below your knees, resting on your shoes. She eyes your body up and down, meeting your pleading and still confused eyes — and for a moment, thinks of just carrying you home and taking care of business once you get there. No jealousy, none of that.

But it's still bitter down her throat, and she can still picture his disgusting hand meeting your soft thigh, her soft thigh — as your body is hers, so that thought is ever so fleeting. It's either now or now.

Her cold as ice finger traces faint circles on your lower tummy, making the fine hairs of your body rise like soldiers. You whimper quietly as her finger snaps the elastic band of your panties and lets it smack down your pelvis. You rub your thighs together, but you're ever so pliant as she makes your legs spread wide with a boot covered foot opening up your calves like a gate.

She whispers in your ear. "Are you wet?", it makes you shiver.

"M'cold" you whine.

She scoffs.

She kneads your bra cup with her palm, squeezing an erect nipple with her thumb and middle finger. "Didn't ask that"

Her eyes meet your gaze and again she reconsiders this whole thing — because you truly look so needy, and your lips are so pouty and sweet and red with cold, you look as if you'd die if she didn't kiss you right now so how can she even be worried, let alone be jealous?

She knows how much you love her, how much you yearn for nobody but her, how her touch leaves you speechless time and time again.

But it's like something takes over, a dark figure, a figure that's thirsty and starving and wants to prove a thing it already knows.

It's an internal struggle, she doesn't want to be possessive,

She can't help it.

Your panties are striped with pink and white, and she looks at them as if they're the most expensive lace in the whole entire world. Her breathing gets heavier as she curls her fingers inside the cotton fabric, pupils darkening when she notices a sweet clear string of your arousal clinging from the entrance of your cunt to the bottom of your underwear.

She chuckles, followed by a sigh of relief that you notice. You are wet, right in the middle of the street where an innocent soul could catch you at any given moment. "Didn't answer cause you're shy?" She knows you so well. You bite your lip and nod, butterflies fighting in the pits of your stomach. A chaste kiss on the lips is all you get from her, and you deeply whine into the air. "At least kiss me!" you beg, — god, you're so cute when you're pissed.

Before landing on her knees, Ellie looks from side to side in order to check that there's truly nobody around, and no — not because she's scared to get caught, but because she'd die before she let someone see her girlfriend half naked with her skirt down her thighs.

Ellie is face to face with your quivering, pantie covered cunt. A wet patch greets her — a fuckin' pleasure, one she can't help but swipe her tongue across. Your choked up, terrified sound of a moan is a symphony to her hears, fuck Mozart. Her eager muscle of a tongue is so warm against your pussy you nearly forget it started snowing yesterday.

You buck your hips inwards, she groans. "No moving", she warns — simply to assert a dominance that has already been asserted. She kisses your little clit, coo's at the way it slightly pokes out of the fabric, erect and pumping on her tongue. "Ellie... Ellie... Ellie", you babble like a prayer, which she nods to. "S'my name, that's fuckin' right", she groans as her husky voice is muffled by your soaked panties.

"Ellie..." you repeat, thighs beginning to ache as you try and spread them further apart, almost sitting on her face.

Ellie, not Michael.

She smiles, greedy, triumphant.

She flicks her tongue on your clit, once, twice, three times before biting on your meaty pussy lips. You bite your knuckles in order to keep your voice down, but she glares up at you. "Do that again n'I swear to god I'm stopping" she growls.

You're not used to this side of her at all, but her voice makes your hole leak a small stream from deep inside. She feels it's wetness on her tongue, eyes closing in ecstasy as she audibly suckles your sweet, tangy, heavenly juices from the now sheer fabric. Her own spit runs down her chin, she doesn't even bother to wipe it off. All you can hear are your breathy, whiney moans, tiny begs of "take 'em off, please", regarding your panties, and Ellie's throaty groans. You're so wet from your own juices and her saliva it nearly gets uncomfortable, but then again you're so goddamn close to cumming.

You try taking matters to your own hands, attempting to peel off your panties from your waist with a shaky hand but she snarls and slaps your wrist away.

"Nuh uh, pussy's fuckin' mine, don't touch it"

With relentless sucking on your drenched clit, and soiled panties, she opens her eyes to merely glare at you again with a warning look. "When you're close, you let me know" she bites.

You don't respond.

A stinging slap meets your pussy, which makes your thighs shake, whole body jolt, and throat ache with a high pitched yelp.

"You're not listening" Ellie warns.

"You listen when I talk" she warns again. Her tongue meets your clit and it pushes it further and further up. You shake, eyesight gone blurry, you're close, you know it by the way the coil down your stomach threatens to snap, and by the way it tickles down there so damn bad.

"M'close" you brokenly wail.

She grunts deeply and stops completely. your heart nearly breaks, no no no no no. "Ellie, Ellie, Els, no!" You try and buck your hips forward but she holds you in place with an iron like grip. You buck them again and she peels off the fabric of your underwear, slightly rising up as she stares inside at the mess she made of you. There's a devilish smirk that creeps up from her lips, apple of one cheek rising. You let out a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps she'll actually fucking eat you out properly instead of letting you suffer inside a warm, wet material of a mess that truly doesn't look like something wearable anymore. Instead, she audibly spits inside with a "Ptu'", letting the band snap shut. Her saliva mixes with your warm sleek. You're so confused she nearly feels bad, but she's such a cunt that she really doesn't.

"Were going back inside," she murmurs so casually as if she didn't just fuck you up in the middle of the street, as if her chin isn't shiny with your precum. "N'if Michael puts his hand on you again, I'm eating it in front of him"

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[struggling-author]

2023 really feels like a big step up from the previous years, like yes the world is still burning but now it feels more like capitalism starting to burn instead of just innocent people

elon musks collosal fuckups and social decline

billionaires dying in an iron box built of hubris

the writer and actor strikes bringing hollywood to a standstill

I feel like there’s more I‘m forgetting, but I can’t help but feel a little optimistic y‘all

[mosspapi]

Coming up with gift ideas for yourself when you have been denied even the ability to think about wanting things for most of your life is very hard. Because on one hand I want many things that would bring me joy, and on the other if I want things I am a failure and selfish and cringe. Does this make sense to anyone but me

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Put a Ring On That... !

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･

Genshin masterlist || Scaramouche masterlist

Tags: fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, Nahida cameo Summary: Just Wanderer preparing for the happiest day of his life, really.

A/N: life is beating me up so hard rn lmao have some fluffy hcs and i may return later !!

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･

♡ Boyfriend!Wanderer who doesn’t really care about marriage and thinks that just being together is enough.

♡ Boyfriend!Wanderer who sees how happy you are at your friend’s wedding so he starts thinking about the prospect more.

♡ Boyfriend!Wanderer who, after months of contemplation, planning and (not so) discreetly measures your ring finger in your sleep, proposes… by accident.

♡ Boyfriend!Wanderer who drops the ring box while walking up to the planned location, panics when you turn to look at him and just holds it up.

♡ Boyfriend!Wanderer who forgets everything he planned because of the incident and just spills out any word that pops up in his mind.

♡ Boyfriend Fiancé!Wanderer who still can’t believe that you just said yes so easily despite all of his fuckups.

♡ Fiancé!Wanderer who grins dopily whenever he sees you cherishing your promise ring but hides it before you can see.

♡ Fiancé!Wanderer who makes sure he is not dreaming every single morning when you cuddle against him in your sleep.

♡ Fiancé!Wanderer who has a secret calendar to count down the days until your wedding and a matching secret notebook where he keeps all of your wedding ideas and wishes.

♡ Fiancé!Wanderer who gets locked out of Nahida’s office because he always ends up oversharing about you, as a whole.

♡ Fiancé!Wanderer who makes sure you do not have to tire yourself out over the planning for the ceremony but ensures your involvement to make the day your shared dream date.

♡ Fiancé!Wanderer who definitely does not blush bright red at the picture Nahida gave him of you in your wedding clothes nor does he keep it in his wallet with him at all times.

♡ Fiance!Wanderer who thanks every single deity he can think of at the sight of you walking down the aisle during practice runs. ~

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･

[lunar-serpentinite]

"harry wasnt that powerful, he literally only knew 3 spells and had a horcrux in him and he wouldnt have survived without-"

listen to me, LISTEN TO ME

the boy was in survival mode for literally all of his life. almost all of his defense teachers tried to kill him. he was more worried about surviving the next voldy jumpscare. his "mentor" was raising him to die.

do u think he had the time to learn and master an arsenal of spells when everyone who was meant to help him are either dead or keeping him in the dark ? do u think he had the time to train when hes getting into life or death scenarios practically every year ?

he was a growing teen who had to deal with a murderer going after him, a world who thinks hes just off his rockers, adults who rarely take him seriously, the natural hormonal teen years, and the typical fights between friends who have vastly different life experiences but arent emotionally mature enough to address those yet . i dont think he even had that much positive reinforcement from everyone around him

stop calling harry james potter a weakass fuckass just because he doesnt have a shiny arsenal of weapons and the mind of a master strategist . thats literally a child and then a teen who keeps on getting retraumatised over and over and over, and you keep on taking the piss on him because he doesnt react like a levelheaded YA protagonist who has everything under control ?

hes just a dude who had to practically raise himself, who tries his goddamn best but fucks up constantly and is always haunted by his fuckups, and who still manages to get the job done at the end

AND EVEN AFTER THAT the people still put more responsibilities on his shoulders like "he couldve redid society with his influence" "he couldve done this he couldve done that" "he couldve done more"

how much more of himself does he have to give before society is satisfied ? why cant the adults take charge for once and rebuild the system that THEY broke ? why's it all on harry's shoulders ALONE ?

"he couldve used his influence-" did u conveniently forget how the wizarding world showed him over and over how easily their views and treatment of him cld change at the flip of a coin ? do u think he'd trust them to listen to him after all this time ? NO

like i get it, "chosen ones" have the influence and the responsibility . "chosen ones" should be powerful and their skills and abilities varied by the end of the series . they could do more and many chosen ones have done more . but harry's just part of the subset of chosen ones that is just tired and beat down at the end of the it all .

idk give him a break, hop off his back, let him retire to the countryside