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wenella · 2 days ago

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Seeking Zhu Yilong

EN translation of Zhu Yilong X Marie Clarie Jan 2025 Cover Issue Feature Interview by wenella

The search for “Zhu Yilong” started after Dongji Island wrapped.

Zhu Yilong’s 7-month life on the set ended at night. When Zhu Yilong finished his last scene underwater that night, his body was filled with the character’s emotions, and he was overwhelmed by fatigue. He didn’t come back to his senses even when he heard the director yelled, “it’s a wrap!” It was not until the director jumped into the water to celebrate with him that he felt a huge sense of relief. It was finally time to say goodbye to his role Luo Xiao.

Zhu Yilong's role in the movie "Dongji Island" required him to perform many scenes underwater. He had to perform actions and deliver emotions while going with the flow of the water and ensuring that he did not choke. This is his toughest role so far.

Over the past decade, Zhu Yilong has played a variety of characters. His career is akin to a life simulation game; he levels up by collecting different characters. Once the camera rolls, he can be anyone, except Zhu Yilong. After leveling up, he quickly turns back into Zhu Yilong and doesn’t linger in the lives of others.

Zhu Yilong often jokes that he will get "sick" after each film. Once he wraps, it is as though all the taut strings in his body suddenly loosen and his only desire is to lie down and do nothing. This time, Zhu Yilong returned to Beijing and rested at home for a few days. In the past, he always looked forward to diving, swimming, or relaxing by the beach during his break. "I think I swam enough for Dongji Island this time. I don't want to (go to the beach) for the time being, I just want to rest."

In the past, Zhu Yilong could separate himself from his role after wrapping by changing his clothes or getting a haircut. However, over the past year, he has found it increasingly difficult to remove the lingering traces of his characters on him. These traces remain in him even though he has bid farewell to his role, and it is harder to discern how Zhu Yilong should be like anymore. What does it mean to return to being himself? What does it even mean to be himself? The boundaries start to blur.

Searching for himself

Zhu Yilong lived in Qingshan District, Wuhan, when he was a child. In the area, there was an important cultural venue named Red Flag Theater where many art performances and activities were held. The Theater was converted into an ice rink in the late 1990s and was subsequently demolished to make way for a housing community.

The place holds the childhood memories of a generation of Qingshan residents - the billiards next to the theater cost 50 cents a shot; children always gathered at the video game machines near the theater; the aroma of skewers at the entrance of the theater lingers even after many years. When Zhu Yilong was in elementary school, the school often took students to the Red Flag Theater for movies. The Theatre was like a time travel box that transported children to the past and the future. They got to see the outside world through this theatre.

Besides the theater, open-air movies were often shown on the university campus near Zhu Yilong's home. In the evening, he often ran over to the field with his grandmother's braised chicken feet, sat down with others, and feasted on the chicken feet while immersing himself in the movie. "I was easily drawn into the stories and I believed in what happened in those scenes." Little did Zhu Yilong know that he would grow up to become a storyteller and a character on the big screen.

Zhu Yilong started to watch many movies after he was admitted to the Beijing Film Academy. He learnt about the world through movies and developed a stronger connection with the world. There is a park called Xiaoyue River next to the Beijing Film Academy, where many students practiced their skills secretly. Students usually did morning practice exercises on campus, but if they didn’t want others to see them working so hard, they would get up earlier and go to Xiaoyue River to practice their vocals.

Zhu Yilong found this rather amusing as he recalled the past. “When we were in college, working hard seemed like a shameful thing. Everyone wanted to perform well on stage but didn’t want to appear too hardworking – oh wait, he doesn’t practice martial arts, how can he be so good at it?! – Everyone hoped that they were like this, but in fact they were all practicing their skills secretly.”

Today, Zhu Yilong is no longer ashamed to talk about his efforts. It takes a lot of energy to create a role and he always strives for the best each time he shoots a scene. From the first day he stepped out of school, he demanded himself to do his best in all his performances. Whatever he could give at that moment would be his best. Even if he sees mediocre acting while rewatching his previous works, he will not think of how he can improve that scene as he knows that he had already tried his best at that moment.

After becoming an actor, Zhu Yilong gradually discovered that filming is a constant process of self-exploration and that he didn't know himself as well as he thought he did. "Even if the role is very different from yourself, it is impossible to create a character out of thin air; you can't completely turn yourself into another person. You need to dig within yourself to create the role and sometimes, you will discover that you can leverage something that you think you don't originally have. Through this process, you gradually become unsure of who you really are."

In the past, watching movies was about getting to know the world. Now, making movies is about finding himself.

Immune Response

Every time Zhu Yilong creates a character, he gets very anxious and takes a long time to prepare for his role. He creates different possibilities for his character, sets high standards and tries his best to achieve them. He regards this anxiety as a type of “immune response,” which is the inevitable result of entering a new role. In his opinion, integrating himself with a new character will trigger such an immune response. There is no need to relieve the anxiety when it occurs as it is impossible to get rid of it anyway. Rather than thinking about how to relieve the anxiety, it will be more useful to face it, feel it, and adapt to it.

Besides, people will feel anxious at any stage of their life. Zhu Yilong recalled a moment when he was 27 or 28 years old. He was suddenly seized by anxiety one night and thought: I’m almost 30 years old, what can I shoot in the future? I want to make films, but there’s no opportunity. When he gathers with his friends these days, people tend to talk about their recent situation, thoughts, and issues they are worried about.

He allows anxiety to come naturally as he knows that there will be a moment when it fades out. No one knows how long the anxiety will last, but there will come a day when he suddenly realizes that acting can be effortless - there’s no need to think about where the camera is, when to pause in a sentence, or whether to look left or right. All “immune responses” will disappear once he is completely relaxed and everything he does will feel right. At this moment, he knows that he has connected with his character.

But there comes a risk after he makes that connection between reality and imagination. In recent years, there were several occasions when he couldn't tell if everything before him was real or fake. Sometimes, after he finished a scene, he would realize that the scene was identical to the scene that appeared in his brain when he was resting. At this moment, he is unsure if everything that happened was real or simply part of his imagination.

Zhu Yilong has read many stories about "acting maniacs" and used to envy the way they eat, sleep, and breath acting. Nonetheless, he knows that it will be difficult to do so with his personality. To him, the film set is a microcosm of society. If an actor completely transforms himself into the role that he plays, it may be difficult for him to consider the feelings of the people around him and may even become unreasonable and inconsiderate.

It is impossible for Zhu Yilong to completely ignore the feelings of others. On the set, he is always quickly to sense changes in people's emotions. He hopes that the atmosphere on the set is harmonious, comfortable, and relaxed. Everyone is free to express themselves and offer ideas without worrying about judgement. He doesn't want everyone to be so uptight all the time as he finds it difficult to work in such tense environments. Therefore, he will try his best to control himself, devote himself fully to the role and follow the character's developmental trajectory. However, once the director shouts "cut", he will immediately return to being himself.

Nonetheless, he has also tried to change in recent years. He tries to integrate himself with his role as much as possible without affecting the work of others and strives to release his full potential during filming. Even after the director shouts "cut," he does not withdraw himself from the role immediately as before and does not seek to revert to “Zhu Yilong” deliberately.

Zhu Yilong is trying to find a balance between his roles and himself, as well as between performance and life.

Sweet Moments

Zhu Yilong has been in love with basketball and Michael Jordan since young. This iconic figure in basketball history has created countless moments by controlling the court with his superb skills and frustrating his opponents. If Michael Jordan had to cheer himself on during an important game, one of the tactics he used was to magnify the opponent's contempt for him – it might just be a glance, but he would take it as hostility to gear himself up. Zhu Yilong found this method useful for actors. "For example, if you need a certain emotion at a specific moment, it might be more effective to capture the emotion and magnify it within yourself, rather than simply using your imagination. This way, you will not only own the emotion, but also avoid disturbing others.”

Zhu Yilong’s views about acting are constantly evolving as he accumulates acting experiences over the years. He keeps thinking about how to improve and often hopes to enhance his acting with a stroke of genius. But where does this stroke of genius come from? Are there new ways to act?

After each take, Zhu Yilong will observe everyone's reactions and feel the atmosphere subconsciously. "Sometimes, you get a strong feeling after you finish a take. If the take is good, the whole atmosphere will feel right. Conversely, the atmosphere will not feel right if it was a bad take." Sometimes, when he isn’t sure if he is reading too much into the atmosphere, he will ask the director: is it okay? Is it really okay? He communicates with the director constantly and brainstorms ways to improve the scene. “There is no way to tell what kind of performance is the best. You can always do a better job, but you don't know what the best is. In such cases, we will need the director to make a judgement. If he feels that he has everything he wants, that's it."

There are occasional moments, which are oblivious to others, when Zhu Yilong feels immensely pleased and satisfied by his own performance. It is akin to a golf player hitting a sweet spot that sends the ball travelling far and straight. Zhu Yilong feels that his performance hit the sweet spot when his emotions and reactions are on point and impeccable. These moments do not occur frequently but he always looks forward to such moments each time he goes to the set.

New Roadmap

Besides these moments, Zhu Yilong also shuts down for some time each year and allow himself to relax. The duration of his break is highly contingent. Sometimes, he may have planned to rest for half a year, but he tries to find something to do after resting for just a week. It also depends on fate. He may have planned to rest for 3 months. But if he suddenly encounters a script that he really likes, he will get back to work immediately.

He doesn’t deliberately plan for the future. He has a clear idea of what a good actor should be and works towards this goal while picking scripts that he wants to shoot. He does not consider factors such as box office and awards. After all, filming is highly time consuming, “if I can’t work on projects that I’m interested in, it will be so unbearable.”

A reporter once asked him: if he could pick a special ability, what would it be? His answer at that time was to stop time. Now, he feels that he really needs this special ability. Time seems to fly whenever he is working, especially in recent years. In the past, he would think that a 3-month filming period with a hectic schedule and tough preparatory work was unbearable. Now, he feels that a few months happen in a blink of an eye. Some moments happen so quickly that he doesn’t have sufficient time to feel them properly. Sometimes, he really hopes that he can stop time to enjoy these fleeting moments before moving on. After all, the journey of exploring himself has just begun.

He looks forward to the future, though he isn’t exactly sure what to anticipate. Regardless, the journey of seeking Zhu Yilong has changed its trajectory. He is no longer obsessed with recovering his known self; rather, he is more interested in uncovering the hidden possibilities within himself. He has a new roadmap on hand, and the terrain ahead is unknown; he is ready to embark on this new journey to fully experience life as Zhu Yilong.

**THE END**

Post-translation note: Post-translation note: This interview gives SO MUCH updated insight into Zhu Yilong's views on acting. Really looking forward to his new role as Luo Xiao in Dongji Island. Can't imagine the number of underwater scenes he filmed for him to avoid the sea/beach temporarily.

If you'd like to translate this into other languages, please drop me a DM + credit by linking this thread. Happy reading and good night.

#朱一龙 #wenella #朱一龍 #zhuyilong #zhu yilong #dongji island #东极岛

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christine-ye · 10 months ago

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While Komugi is very far from being my favorite in Wonderful PreCure (I have a fear of dogs irl so it doesn't really help my case) I don't dislike her whatsoever and think a lot of the criticisms made against her are... not it

#christine's ramblings of the day #christine watches wonderful #precure #pretty cure #wonderful precure #wonderful pretty cure #komugi inukai #inukai komugi #cure wonderful #like how can you completely miss the point of her character and be unreasonable about both her and the show #this post isn't directed towards anyone in particular btw #i get sick of this issue happening often though

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genderqueerdykes · 23 days ago

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I’ve been feeling really sad lately bc after this latest rise in anti transmasc sentiment I’ve had to unfollow some trans women I’ve been following for literal years bc they started reblogging and posting really nasty and very uncharitable things abt transmascs on my feed. And like. These are women whose voices I very much respected and listened to, and to hear them basically say they consider me an enemy who can’t be trusted bc I want to talk about my experiences, but all of our issues are really just splash damage from bigotry directed at them and talking abt my own experiences without acknowlefing that it’s not really meant for me is wrong. It’s like. So hurtful. And it makes me feel really hopeless about the future of the trans community.

How do I fight back against that hopelessness?

it really sucks and i'm sorry you're also being affected by this. i hear people talk about this every single day and i really don't like that this is just becoming a default in the trans community in general. it seems like the default mode of most online queers is hating transmascs and trans men as if that will somehow make cishet society accept them more. it's selfish behavior.

i'm an intersex trans woman and it's hard for me to interact with the online transfem and trans woman communities, because we're seeing a new experience in the form of transradfeminism, where trans women proudly adopt the anti-man ideals from rad feminism and spread it like it's the truth. it's a sad and painful thing to say, but these trans women are doing this because they believe rad fems and women who hate men are the only "Real" women and desperately want to be seen as "real" women. it stems from their personal dysphoria rooted in manhood, how they take out their own dysphoria in being seen as men on men and mascs. it comes from a place of pain, and it is misguided. instead of directing their hatred toward transmisogyny, they keep it inside the community. it's vile.

it's really sad but trans women and transfems are not immune to being indoctrinated by rad fems and terfs. applying those ideals to being trans isn't progressive. dictating who is and isn't trans is an act of policing. feeling as though one has the right to sit there and claim to know every trans experience, claiming to be the authority on transness... it's fascism.

i'm just plain tired of hearing people make fun of afab trans people and trans men and to talk about them like they're a blight on the community. im tired of people saying things like "do we really need more men?" i'm really sick and tired of chronically online people saying that trans men "aren't real trans people". this one really pisses me off. implying that trans womanhood and transfemininity are the only "real" ways to be trans is also identity policing. what is "unreal" about trans men? i'm tired of trans men being treated like they're unreliable. i'm tired of people wearing their misogyny on their sleeve to constantly treat trans men like they are not reliable narrators. i'm tired of people thinking somehow the instant you begin identifying as a man, you benefit from patriarchy.

i'm tired that people seriously think trans men and mascs can't coin terms for their own experiences. why the hell not? they happen, just because you don't see them personally doesn't mean they don't happen. i have met and lived with so many transmascs over the years, and we've all shared very similar stories about the discrimination we face. it's not spitting in the face of anyone to coin terms like transandrophobia and antimasculism. they happen just as often as transmisogyny does, and happily participating in it only increases trans violence

these talking points are old and it sucks to see more and more trans women get indoctrinated into literal rad feminism. hating trans men will not make dysphoria around being seen as a man go away. hating trans men does not dismantle the patriarchy. hating afab people isn't progressive, it's misogynistic. hating intersex trans men isn't progressive, it's transphobic -and- intersexist. trans men deserve so much better than this. trans men are trans. trans men are people. trans men are not evil by virtue of existing

i say try to do your best to connect with and appreciate the other trans men and mascs in your life. we have to stick together. if you have transfem friends who are on your side, make sure to be there for them, too. not every trans woman is like this fortunately, most trans women are very chill about trans manhood. this is a vocal minority of people who want to be fascists and want to control and police other trans people. transradfeminism isn't progressive, it's just as bad as regular rad feminism, if not worse, because now there's an even bigger focus on hating trans people.

hating other trans people will never get you ahead in cisheteronormative society. try to take care of yourself as best as you can. really relish trans joy when you experience it. take time to affirm your gender. know that manhood is a blessing. manhood is beautiful. it is varied, nuanced, and complex. it is a wonderful thing to experience. men are not evil. men are not bad. we should never remove the accountability from individuals.

hating trans men makes you transphobic. there's just no other way to it. whether or not you accept that it's called transandrophobia, it is still transphobia, and you really should care. the trans community isn't here for just 1 type of trans person. it's here for all of us. good luck, stay safe out there. be good to yourself

#asks #answers #trans man #trans men #trans manhood #antimasculism #transandrophobia

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aplpaca · 2 years ago

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thinking about how I've seen OCD get talked about now, but haven't really seen many posts that actually explain what it is. And like, obviously people shouldn't get all their info about mental conditions from posts, but u can't deny that internet communities and stuff play a major role in people recognizing and putting names to their own experiences.

But like since the general public has like absolutely no idea of what OCD actually is (no thanks to popular media), and a lot of things I see talking about intrusive thoughts don't mention OCD (either bc they originated in OCD circles or bc intrusive thoughts aren't Exclusive to OCD or for some other reason), there should prob be more explanation put out on what OCD actually consists of.

Which is kinda hard in some ways, bc there are so many ways OCD can present in terms of what "themes" a person experiences, so someone talking about what their themes are might not ring a bell with someone who experiences different ones. But like, the core thing with OCD isn't the presence of certain themes, it's a specific pattern of spiraling thoughts and reactions.

Like. OCD is a mental condition/illness where people experience stressful, unwanted, repetitive thoughts. These are intrusive thoughts are what make up the "obsessions" part of the disorder. In response to these intrusive thoughts, a lot of people will perform certain actions or think certain things in an attempt to neutralize or disprove the threat they represent. These are the "compulsions" part of the condition.

For a more "traditional" example, someone experiencing intrusive thoughts that they might catch a communicable disease may obsessively wash their hands or google their symptoms to try to lessen the anxiety. While someone who is worried they might hurt someone (even though they very much do not want to hurt someone) may avoid being near sharp objects or may avoid the people they're afraid of hurting.

One of the issues with OCD is that performing the compulsions provides short term relief, but in the long term it only strengthens the stress caused by the intrusive thoughts, thus furthering the thought spiral and actively making it worse, to the point where, depending on your themes, you may be (almost) convinced that your intrusive thoughts represent the truth or the inevitable or something permanent.

Intrusive thought themes cam be literally anything, but some of the common ones are stuff like

Questioning your sexuality, gender, etc (what if I'm actually straight/gay/bi/trans/cis/etc?)

Being worried about losing control and hurting yourself or others physically, sexually, emotionally, basically any way (what if I want to kill someone? What if I'm a pedophile? What if I'm an abuser? What if I want to stab myself? Etc)

Fear of becoming or being sick

Worrying something bad will happen to you or people you care about

Worrying about your spiritual beliefs or lack thereof (what if I'm actually Christian? What if I'm actually atheist? What if i don't believe in the faith i ascribe to? Etc)

Worrying about relationship status (what if I don't actually love them? What if they're not "the one"? What if they're cheating? What if *I'm* cheating? Etc)

What if I'm a bad person?

Fear of losing things

Fear of things not feeling right (this is often be related to other themes via magical thinking. ex: if I don't have my things organized Just Right then something bad will happen)

Fear of unreality

Compulsions vary by theme a lot obviously, but some common ones include

Hand washing

Organizing things until they Feel Right

Checking and double checking and triple checking to make sure you did something correctly

Obsessively reviewing your memories to disprove a thoughtor make sure you don't believe something

Arguing against the thoughts in an attempt to disprove them

Testing your mental reactions to a thought or to certain kinds of content, to show yourself you don't actually believe or feel something

Obsessively googling symptoms, testimonies, things related to your thoughts

Obsessive prayer

Repeating phrases, mantras, affirmations, etc in an attempt to make thoughts go away

Avoiding things and situations that set off your intrusive thoughts

Repeatedly asking for reassurance from others ("I'm not being xyz, right?")

But yeah this obviously isn't exhaustive but, just, if this kind of thing sounds familiar, you should probably do some research on OCD, bc while intrusive thoughts can occur with other conditions, the intrusive thought-compulsion spiral is the core of OCD and isn't really a subaspect of depression/anxiety/ptsd/etc. and the treatment and management of OCD can look different from other stuff, so its a good thing to look into.

(Also it's important to keep in mind, esp if you're someone that doesn't have it, that someone's intrusive thoughts Are Not "secret desires" or "repressed urges" or anything the person even remotely wants to act on. Someone having harm-related intrusive thoughts is not at risk of actually acting on them, no matter how worried they are of doing so.)

Anyway this was a long post and I don't have a neat way to wrap it up and also I accidentally added a poll and now can't get rid of it so here's free poll. I'm running on nyquil and a small amount of straight gin (which works very well at numbing a sore throat) rn gnite

#ocd #actuallyocd #actually ocd #intrusive thoughts #my hand is fuckin stiff from typing this all out on my phone rip

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ghettogirly · 7 months ago

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[🕷️] 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒!

authors note: please reblog and like so others can see! Hope you enjoy!!

[🕷️] 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄:

🕷️ - He would be very keen on spending time together one on one especially during his time in the cartel where it’s unknown if there will be another tomorrow.

🕷️- I think he would love staying inside his villa with you and enjoying a nice home meal while watching a movie.

🕷️- He would love giving you self defence lessons and training you in the gym, especially since that’s his element. This man would have a whole training and diet plan already made for you.

🕷️- Armando would try take you out every now and then, maybe to go shopping or for a nice dinner just to give you a feeling of a relatively normal life. He wouldn’t do this often though, probably only doing this for anniversaries as he wouldn’t want to place you in any danger.

🕷️- He would enjoy coming back home after some business he had to handle whether that was securing a deal or carrying out an execution, to see you sleeping in your shared bed. This would give him a sense of security and also spend some quality time of sleeping together.

[🕷️] 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇:

🕷️- He would not be someone to do public display of affection. The thought of someone seeing him be vulnerable with you would probably cause trouble.

🕷️- The only display of affection he would do would be longing stares at you if you walk past him, sneaky winks or he would hold your fingertips as you talk to him, making sure to hold eye contact with you.

🕷️- It would be a struggle at first to make him initiate affection as he grew up without parents. An incarcerated mother and a dad he grew up to hate? A whole lot of issues.

🕷️- However, he would eventually warm up to the idea.

🕷️-Behind closed doors, he would love wrapping his arms around you and hugging you as it gives him the satisfaction of protecting you.

🕷️- He would also love giving you slow, passionate kisses. (depending on his mood) The type to make you and him both, longing for more.

🕷️- however if he’s angry, you already know he’s going to be grabbing your face and forcing you into a heated, passionate kiss. His hands exploring your body as he releases his frustrations.

[🕷️] 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

🕷️- He would openly compliment your superficial things such as your clothes, hair or makeup.

🕷️- However, getting something beneath the surface level for him would be tough.

🕷️- He’s overly critical and cynical of the world, believing evil things happen to everyone and that you never really know someone’s true self.

🕷️- However, his perception quickly changed when he met you.

🕷️- You showed him something different, a breath of fresh air. He loved the way you carried yourself, holding yourself with grace but not hesitant to assert yourself.

🕷️- One day he would say, “I really admire your character baby.”

🕷️- You would look at him in shock, not hearing those words before and quite frankly caught off guard at his sensitive words. Nevertheless you would smile and reply, “I learnt it all from you.”

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

🕷️- This wouldn’t really be a big one for him.

🕷️- I believe he would expect you to be able to do things for yourself, he wouldn’t be able to care for you, himself and his cartel as well. He would get frustrated at your lack of ability to be able to care for yourself.

🕷️- However, if you ever get hurt or sick you can bet on it that he’s taking care of you.

🕷️- He wouldn’t let anyone help you, only him.

🕷️- He would change your dressings or help you take your medication. Even bring you soup for your sore throat.

🕷️- He would help clean up around the bedroom and help you do basic tasks again.

🕷️- He has maids for the rest, so what’s the point.

[🕷️] 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆:

🕷️- Armando wouldn’t really get you surprise gifts, he would much prefer to give you money and allow you to buy your own.

🕷️- He would surprise you with an amount of cash and then you can buy what you want.

🕷️- Sometimes he’ll come back with a new necklace for you that has his initials or the name of his cartel, just to let other know that you’re claimed.

🕷️- If it was your birthday, you can bet the whole mansion would be decorated and there would be a private jet awaiting you, ready to take you on a holiday resort.

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10yrratiolover · 5 months ago

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Some of my, oh so many, Ratio Headcannons

he knows a bunch of languages, all of which he can speak fluently

^ this includes Latin

cleans his rubber ducks VERY thoroughly to make sure they don't mold

he HATES getting sweaty, it's the only thing he doesn't like about hot baths and working out

has very strict morning and nightly routines, gets genuinely upset if they're disrupted

I think he and Argenti would have great philosophical debates about beauty (please hoyoverse please see my vision)

just straight up hates bright lights

^ prefers warm lighting over cold

I think his skin is naturally clear but he's definitely got some kind of skincare routine anyway

missed out on a lot of social opportunities during his teenage years due to his studies and such, don't think he would have had many friends (at least not his age)

big fan of parallel play, mostly because he gets caught up in his head so often, he's completely content doing different things in the same vicinity

he also uses Aventurine (or others) as a canvas of sorts to throw ideas and thoughts on, he'll start explaining something, and mid explanation he'll run into the answer, thank whoever he's talking to even though they didn't do anything, and hurry off to write it down

frequent bruises around his collar/bottom of his neck from his alabaster

migraine sufferer, me too stay strong king (actually I think this is canon?)

he VERY rarely cancels his classes, it could be flooded up to his doorknob and he'd send out an email to his students like "Today's lecture is still on."

^ this includes when he's sick or otherwise unwell, he could be barely standing upright and he'd still give his lecture

he can't listen to music with lyrics when doing anything because it distracts him (he'll start zoning in on the words and stop doing whatever else he was doing (did I word this right? idk it happens to me all the time))

he sometimes wears the alabaster at home if sensory issues are really bad that day

^ he verbally shuts down sometimes, which sucks bc he's got a lot to say but he typically just writes things down instead

does actually throw chalk at his students, not as hard as his in-battle attack obviously but his aim is always on point

^ his perfect aim also applies to literally anything he throws, his keys, his phone, if he wants to throw something somewhere it's getting there

sometimes completely submerges himself in the bath and just holds his breath for a bit to fully clear his head

^ he can hold his breath pretty long so he sits under there for a bit (freaked Aventurine out the first time he walked in on him doing it tho)

call me crazy but I think he'd be good with kids

#I do hc him as autistic if that wasn't obvious as well #★ – posts!#★ – headcanons!#dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr veritas ratio #hsr dr ratio #hsr ratio #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr aventurine #hsr argenti #argenti #aventurine #aventio #ratiorine #? i guess #it's vague?

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thebibliosphere · 1 year ago

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Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.

Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.

Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.

When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.

The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.

And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.

If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.

It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.

It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.

And it's suffocating.

Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.

Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.

Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.

And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.

I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)

Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.

You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.

And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.

#chronic health tag #long post #ableism #thanks for coming to this huge rant I'll probably delete later #also sincerely #thank you to everyone who does send nice messages #you are the majority #it's just that the assholes are louder

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foldingfittedsheets · 1 year ago

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Come with me now on another story adventure.

Some types of hardship do start to feel like curses if they happen often enough. One thing I’ve experienced a lot- or at least enough to posit a curse- is my apartments flooding.

I’ve had flooding in three separate apartments I’ve lived in.

The place I lived with Betty flooded due to a massive rainstorm and poor placement on a downhill slope. Betty’s room was more effected than mine, but due to poor handling by the management it resulted in some rampant black mold and my eventual falling out with Betty as we broke the lease to escape.

My first flooding though. Happened when I lived in a third floor apartment. How, you might ask, is that possible?

Oh, Reader. Prepare yourself.

Now, I need to set the stage. Because you see, I shared this apartment with the last boy I’d ever date, Brendan. We’d known going into the relationship that I had a predilection for pussy but it finally clicked that I was just not attracted to men.

This was particularly devastating because I still loved that boy with all my heart but neither of us were getting what we needed out of the relationship. Suffice it to say, the atmosphere in the apartment in which he was sleeping on the couch was A BUMMER.

We were both sick, probably from stress, and had bad coughs. It was the night before midterms.

I was tucked up into bed, with little kitten Leeloo, ready to get to sleep. It was about 10pm. Brendan knocked and poked his head into the room.

“It’s raining in the bathroom,” he said.

I got out of my comfy bed, and joined him in the bathroom. Raining was an exaggeration but there was definitely water dripping down the door jam and pooling up under the paint.

“That’s not good.”

We both stared at this problem together, sick and sad.

Finally, I suggested, “Go see if the upstairs neighbor left a faucet on. I’ll try to call maintenance.”

He left and I started making calls. At 10pm it was understandable that I was getting a lot of voicemails. Two maintenance lines deep, Brendan returned.

“The people above us are getting drops too, and the place above that won’t respond.”

Four defunct numbers later, I finally got ahold of an emergency maintenance guy who was on call. “It’s raining in our bathroom.”

He was befuddled and said he’d be in soon.

That was about when it really actually started raining. Drips began pouring out of light fixtures. Terrified, we turned off the lights we could, setting out bowls and towels to mitigate water damage. Water dripped from several lights and started pooling ominously in the long flat kitchen light.

The maintenance man arrived around midnight. There was bowls and buckets littering the ground as Brendan and I watched in abject misery as water filled them. The maintenance man was wildly out of his depth, having been left in sole charge while the entire rest of the staff was on vacation.

As we spoke to him, the water infiltrated our smoke alarm which began screaming in earnest at this wet invasion. The maintenance man promised to try to see what was causing the issue and fled. Brendan and I regarded each other. We coughed, sick and exhausted, then went to empty the water buckets.

An hour passed. The smoke alarm persisted, it’s three shrill screeches pounded relentlessly into our ear drums. We stopped existing as individuals and became vessels of suffering. The paint in the bathroom started sloughing off the wall in wet ripples.

Brendan tried to rouse the neighbor again and returned unsuccessful.

The maintenance man returned. It was 1am. He couldn’t get ahold of the apartment causing the flooding. He couldn’t get ahold of his bosses. After the update he made to leave and we begged him, please, just make the beeping stop, please. It can rain inside, and I can get no sleep the night before midterms, and I can cough miserably all night while I empty water bowls, but please, god, please, just make the beeping stop.

He promised to try and left. At some point around then, the flat kitchen light shattered under the pressure and gushed out a fall of water. Brendan and I gave a bleak half hearted startle and tried to scrounge up more towels.

I started slipping into madness. The unceasing blaring beeps. The rain. The misery of being in this wretched situation with someone I used to be able to reach toward for comfort who I couldn’t anymore. This was hell, I decided. This circumstance fits into how they torture people, and I live here in this torturescape now. The maintenance man was never coming back.

The maintenance man came back with a ladder eventually.

Brendan and I watched with blank hungry eyes as he fussed with the alarm and at 2am it finally ceased its shrieking klaxon of madness. I cried. The man left again. We emptied the bowls.

And finally, half an hour later, the rain began to abate. The maintenance man returned to inform us that he’d entered the upstairs unit.

Someone had become incapacitated and left their bath running. He was not at liberty to disclose what happened so presumably someone was sauced out of their gourd and fell into a deep stupor such that several hours of sustained door pounding couldn’t rouse them.

People all down the row flooded, and he looked near tears himself. We thanked him and went to collapse into bed. Neither of us took midterms the next day.

Brendan and I are still friends to this day, even after a night fit to drive someone mad.

My last event of apartment flooding was a sewer main getting blocked. It was when my betrothed and I had just started dating and they were hanging out at my place while I was at work. Due to this good fortune, they were able to move my couch, entertainment system, and electronics out of the path of the flood.

It took a week and some extremely pointed emails to get the landlord to comp me rent for the week I couldn’t live there and the entire time I was just thankful I wasn’t stuck with water dripping from my lights while a fire alarm drove me to the brink of madness.

#ramblies #storytime #funny #funny story #writing #honestly just have some schadenfreude #cause it’s fucking funny now to look back on it #ffs foibles #curse #raining #flooding

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lipringlrh · 1 year ago

Text

i know it wont work | CL16

"I hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different.” - i know it won’t work, gracie abrams

summary: you don’t love charles anymore and it’s wrong to keep dragging him along.

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

an: wrote this ages ago but remembered it. happy charles contract day !!!

word count: 1.8k

warning: a bit suggestive? breakups and angst, sad charles who likes to beg x

feedback and reblogs appreciated !!

we need to talk.

He received the text from you this morning, but he didn't want to respond. He knew what was coming but he had been ignoring it and trying his best to fix it for the past month.

He could feel you falling out of love with him over the past few weeks and he had tried everything to fix it. He'd bought you flowers, took you on fancy dates, and constantly did your favourite activities with you. It's not like he wasn't doing that before, he most definitely was, but he made it more often and romantic than before. The last thing he wanted was to lose you.

You would've said the same every day of your life until recently. You didn't know how it happened, or when or why, but it did and you hated yourself for it. You didn't want to fall out of love with Charles, you always believed you'd be together for the rest of your lives, so when you realised it was happening you ignored it, trying to force the feelings back. You immersed yourself in the dates he took you on and tried so hard to love him but you couldn't help it anymore.

It didn't take much time to realise Charles knew. He could always read you better than anyone else which you usually loved. He spent days crying into your arms, holding you and refusing to let you leave, mourning the relationship he knew was coming to an end. Neither of you addressed it though, you just waited, hoping the other would talk first. Despite loving him less and less, you loved the relationship you had with him, and you didn't want to leave him.

It was unfair though, you realised. You'd stare at each other and you could see easily how in love he was with you whilst you felt nothing. It was horrible dragging it on, especially knowing he knew, and you couldn't spend time with him without feeling incredibly guilty.

You didn't know how to go about it, telling the man you thought you'd spend your life with you didn't love him, but after sending the text, you knew you'd started it the wrong way.

You weren't surprised by the lack of response, you guessed it might happen, but you stayed home all day knowing he would show up at some point. And at quarter past eleven at night, he did.

You both were sat on the same sofa, not too far apart but far enough you couldn't touch each other without leaning. Charles hadn't looked at you since he arrived, he stared mostly at the floor, very occasionally looking up. It wasn't hard to notice the colour of his eyes - they were bright red, most likely from a mix of crying and rubbing them.

You sat in silence for a while, neither of you saying anything, neither of you wanting to admit the truth. Neither of you had told anyone the issues over the past month, but a few close friends had some ideas.

Charles was playing with his fingers, ripping off skin at the corners, he didn't want to hear what he knew you were going to say but he couldn't sit in the silence any longer without crying.

"Please just get it over with," he whispered, hoping he had the completely wrong idea for the last month.

You paused for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying not to cry yourself, "I'm not in love with you anymore."

It made you feel sick to finally say it out loud. You hated yourself for feeling it and for bottling it in for so long.

The room was silent again but not for long. Charles' head was in his hands, and small sobs could be heard from him.

"Charles, I am so sorry. I didn't want this to happen, I wanted to spend my life with you, I promise."

“Don’t, please,” he cried, voice shaking.

You started to focus on your own breathing again, forcing yourself to hold back from crying, “we can’t be together anymore.”

He looked up, straight at you. You could see his face fully now for the first time, Tears ran down his face, which was already blotchy. He looked tired and hopeless, and you feared he’d only get worse.

“Yeah, no shit,” his voice started off strong before breaking completely at the end, sending out another wave of sobs.

“God, I am so sorry, Charles, I am so sorry,” you sniffled, beginning to cry yourself.

He just shook his head and places it back in his hands. His full body was shaking and he was sobbing harder than you thought possible.

“Can you- can you hold me please?” he choked, barely holding back his cries.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“Please,” he begged, shamelessly. He didn’t care anymore, you knew he needed you, he didn’t need to hide it.

You moved closer to him, barely, still keeping a safe distance. You placed a hand on his head, not sure what else to do.

Charles made the next move and placed himself right next to you, almost on top of you. He leaned into you, pressing his head into your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him subconsciously, pulling him closer.

He carried on shaking into you, letting out strangled sobs. They never seemed to end, he just seemed to carry on for what felt like forever. You cried too, into his hair, occasionally pressing tender kisses wherever you could reach.

"Please let me stay tonight, it's too dark for me to drive. Let me just have one last night with you please," he begged, still crying into your shoulder.

You knew it was bullshit - he drove just as well at night as in the day and it was just as dark as when he came, but you didn’t have the energy to dispute him.

“Charles-”

“Please, baby, just one night. Just one.”

You couldn’t answer him. It would be so wrong to say yes but it felt wrong to say no.

“Let me have one last good memory. Let me prove what you’re missing,” he tried pleading again.

You sighed, nodding, not that he could see you. He could feel you though but wasn’t entirely sure if your movements meant anything.

“Hmm, you want to? Please, baby. Talk to me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, yes? Talk properly.” he ordered, sharply yet quietly, taking more control over his tears.

“Yes Charles,” you responded. He tried to look at you pointedly, silently pushing you for more, but with his tear-stained face it didn't work too well. After knowing him better than anyone, you understood though, “Yes Charles, you can stay.”

“Good answer,” he whispered, turning back into your neck, pressing lazy kisses up and down, “such a good answer angel.”

“Charles,” you almost whined. Almost. It’d be wrong to let him have you the way he wanted whilst he was in this state but God did it feel good.

He was moving down your jaw, leaving wet, loving, kisses in the wake. He was pushing himself into you, moving against your thigh.

“Let me make love to you, baby,” he moaned, rutting his hips faster against yours, “don’t refuse. I know you can’t resist me. Please.”

His face was pressed into your neck, switching between sucking and biting down. His hands moved further down, touching your chest and body in all the right places.

“Yes. Please, Charles.”

————

You slept well that night, better than you had in a long while even though you were still wrapped up in Charles’ arms. You were woken up by him, dabbing light kisses down your neck.

Light fled in through the window, hitting you and Charles perfectly. You awoke to feel his hair tickling your chin, his lips now kissing across your shoulder.

“Charles, not again,” you groaned, not wanting him to stop at all, but you were beginning to feel guilty. You just spent a night with a man who loved you unconditionally, knowing that you didn't, "Come on, Charles, get up."

He carried on kissing you, moving towards your collar bone, then inching further down, "we can go again."

You tangled your hands in his hair, moving his face up, away from your body.

"No, Charles," you paused, taking in a sharp intake of breath as Charles began kissing your jaw, "Charles, you need to go."

He stopped instantly and looked up at you. It was easy to notice the sudden change in demeanour. His playful attitude was gone, replaced with a much more miserable one. He already looked like he was going to cry again.

He'd put last nights conversation to the back of his mind, only focusing on the fact he had you all to himself. He didn't want to remember it either.

"Is there anything I can do to make you love me?" he whispered, brokenly, on the verge of crying again.

He rested his head on your chest, beginning to sob into you. His body was lightly shaking, only getting more vigorous as time went on. You couldn't respond to him - you couldn't even look at him. Guilt ate you up inside, you wanted to love him.

"I think you should go, Charles," you spoke, your voice cracking. You were crying now too.

"I want to stay."

"I don't love you Charles," you cried, "I think it's best if you leave."

"Could you love me again?" he pried, barely being able to speak between gasping for breath, his crying taking over his whole body.

"I think you should go."

"Can you answer me?" he begged.

You didn't want to but you had to. You repeated yourself again, "I think you should go, Charles,"

He propped himself up on his arms, his face over yours. He had tear tracks down his face. He was hopeful when he shouldn't be, "you're not saying no."

"I'm saying I think you should go."

"Please," he asked again, wanting nothing more than you to give in. He always believed, deep down, you were it for him, his forever person, and he really didn't want to give you up.

"Please go, Charles," you pleaded, refusing to look at him. If you could go back in time and fix your feelings, you would, in every timeline, but you couldn't and you regretted it every second.

"I'm going," he sighed, defeatedly, getting up from the bed. He grabbed his clothes, dressing himself with little effort.

He took his time, trying to savour every last bit of time with you, even if it was bittersweet. He took one last look at you before he was out of the door, holding your gaze for as long as he could.

"I promise you I'll love you forever, call me if you'll let me".

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asterias-record-shop · 2 years ago

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BINGO: Mommy kink, Ethan Landry. Prompt 14. Reader is just having their way with Ethan who keeps cumming and keeps getting hard

—𓆩[the perfect virgin]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Sub! Ethan Landry x Dom! Mommy! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.9K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were originally attracted to Ethan because he looked like a boy who had never been touched by a woman - ever. Your corruption kink was going haywire, and it was the main reason why you pursued him before you got way too attached to his stupid nerdy personality and his utter obliviousness to anything that has to do with sex, so you decide to put him to a… test of sorts.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - kind of mean/teasing reader || mommy kink || cursing & foul language || tit worship || reader wears revealing clothing & makeup || reader could be described as a nympho? || vibrators || virginity loss (Ethan) || attempt at lactation || breast milk production without being pregnant (it can happen, hormones are a thing and can be caused by constant nipple and breast stimulation) || in turn, lactation kink || oral || grinding || riding || breeding kink || multiple orgasms || unprotected sex || multiple positions || maybe slight corruption kink?? || everything is consensual || public teasing ||

Study hall. That’s how everything started.

There were no empty tables, every one being full of a person, so you decided to move deeper — just in case there was one someone missed.

Of course, though, they were all full. All of your friends were either in other classes or working, so there was no point in texting them to come and join you so you wouldn’t be alone at a table with someone who could very well be Ghostface.

Slowly, you walked around the library to find a table you could sit at before you saw the same book for the Psychology course you were taking. You paused, looking from the book to who had it, his brown curls immediately letting you know it was that quiet boy who sat a few rows back from you.

It didn’t take you long to walk towards him, his eyes flickering up for a quick second before looking back down. It made Ethan panic; were you walking towards him?

He inhaled deeply as his eyes flickered down to the heels that stood a few inches from his chair, inhaling deeply when he felt a soft pat to his shoulder. “You’re Ethan, right?”

He tried not to let it be too obvious that his eyes started to trail up your body; your beautiful legs that were on show, your skirt black and to your midthigh and your shirt just perfectly tight around your body. “Uhm… yeah,” he whispers, nodding as you smile down at him. “Yeah, I’m Ethan.”

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, smiling. “Do you mind if I sit down with you?”

“U-Uhm no… no, not at all,” he said, quickly looking around to see if he could grab a seat for you until you grabbed one yourself and put it right next to him. “I-I’m just studying econ right now.”

“Oh, I did econ last year!” You say, smiling as you tapped the book. “I could help if you help me with psych?”

He nodded immediately, staring up at you before you sat down next to him, holding his hand tightly with a smile. “Y-Yeah, I would like that.”

After helping him out like you wanted to, it was onto psychology. You were learning about Sigmund Freud, a sick bastard who had to relate everything to sex, and two of the theories were the Oedipus and Electra Complex.

“Maybe that’s where the daddy and mommy kinks come in,” you joke, giggling. “Playing. Kind of. I think those stem from not the loving of one’s literal birth parent, but the attraction to someone who fulfills the role of sorts.” “What do you mean?” Ethan asked, leaning over to peer at your textbook and to stare at the diagram comparing the two complexes.

“Well, for those kinks, with those who have daddy kinks - whether male or female - they often have some sort of issue with their true parental figure, but not always, or a strong attachment to their father, or the love that they showed. Same with men who have mommy kinks.” You shrugged, fixing your bra strap as you looked over at him. “I don’t think I’d mind a man calling me mommy.”

Ethan could feel his cheeks get hot, looking away as you giggled. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“Well, I think I would make a good mother,” you shrug, but hum. “I just don’t like the thought of having children - now at least - still got my whole life ahead of me! I definitely do like the thought of the… process though.”

He stuttered out the same question, swallowing. He stared at you, mouth going dry as you giggled.

“Are you a virgin, Ethan?”

He clenched his fists, looking away before you held his wrist. “Y-Yeah, I am.”

“Well, I mean someone cumming inside,” you tapped his chin, getting him to look at you as you smiled at him, giggling. “Like… anywhere. I’m not the biggest fan of anal, but it depends on who’s giving it, you know? But I definitely like how it looks when cum like floods out of my cunt, you know what I mean?” You asked him, biting your lip as his cheeks get redder and his eyes try to avoid yours as much as he could. “You don’t, do you? Kind of forgot,” you hummed, letting your hand place on his and draw lines across his veins with your nail. “You don’t look like you’d be a virgin, Ethan.”

He quickly looked at you, confused. “I-I don’t?”

“No,” you say, smiling as your fingers intertwined with his. “You’re too cute to be a virgin, but you seem to be one of those types who don’t realize how much they make a girl’s pussy wet.”

He shivered as your nail slowly dragged up his forearm, a hum leaving your mouth. “D-Do I make your pussy wet?”

You smiled, shifting slightly to move the wet patch of your underwear. “You do. Can I touch you, Ethan?”

“H-Here?” He basically squeaked, but your hand placing on his thigh made him gasp.

“Not like that, silly,” you laughed, but your nail trailed down his inner thigh. “I mean… unless you want me to.”

“Y-You would do that in a library?” He whispered, watching as you tilt your head slightly.

“Why not?” He inhaled sharply as your finger trailed down his growing bulge, a satisfied hum leaving your mouth. “You should take me out.”

“Y-Yes, yes ma’am.”

That was the beginning of your relationship. Four months in, Ethan had a habit of getting way too comfortable laying against your body with your nipple in his mouth as he sucked and groped the other, a vibrator shoved into your cunt that he had licked and prepped all perfectly.

It had basically become a routine ever since you figured out that he actually did have a mommy kink, coming home from school and his nimble hands stripping you after slipping off your jacket and shoes, kissing your ankles and wrists before leading you to your room. If your feet were sore, he would give you a foot rub, and if your back hurt, a massage. He was so, so good for you, how could you not repay him?

You stroked his curls as his hand pulled your tit deeper into his mouth, sucking and biting against your areola making you hiss. “Hey, don’t be too rough, baby. Be nice.”

He hummed, nodding as he pulled away. “S-Sorry… you just taste so good.”

You laughed, stroking his hair with a smile. “Taste, hm? What tastes? There’s nothing with flavor-”

“You,” he interrupts, his tongue flattening against your sensitive but hard bud. “You taste so good.”

You hummed as you pushed your hand down to push the vibrator into the next setting, the second one being something you were basically ignorant to. You inhale sharply as you hold the end, pushing it deeper into you to feel the soft pink silicone vibrate against the perfect spot inside of you, your hips bucking as he groans against your tit.

One of his hands tries to push down your stomach, attempting to touch your pretty clit before you slapped his hand, a whine against your nipple making you groan. “You already had your time with my pussy, baby, pay attention to my tits.”

He whined, pulling away from your swollen nipple, his hands squeezing at your full breasts. “But mommy-”

“Ah,” you interrupted, raising a brow. “What did mommy say, hm? You’re going to be a bad boy and not listen to your mommy, just to get a taste of my pussy? If you’re good, you won’t have to beg for it.”

“O-Okay,” he mumbled, moving onto your other tit as his thumb flicked against the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, a pleasure filled sigh leaving your lips.

One of your hands stayed in his hair, your head tilted back as the other guided the vibrator deeper into your cunt, hips rolling to try and get the tip against that perfect spot deeper inside of you. His mouth was nice against your tits, but not something that completely gained your attention, desperate to get that spot inside of you abused by the perfect silicone pink vibrator that always fucked you so good.

You felt a jolt go up your back as he groaned against your tit, biting against your nipple, a scream leaving your mouth as his teeth dug into your areola. “E-Ethan!”

He pulled away with the strong tug of your hand, whining loudly. “W-Wait, wait Y/N! Pl-Please, please you taste so good!”

You didn’t notice the pearly white liquid dripping down the side of his mouth, only registering the now discomforting vibrations inside of you. “No, you want to take advantage of what I give you? Hm? I be nice and let you suck on my tits as much as you want and you fucking bite me?!”

He whined, shaking his head as you pulled the vibrator out of your cunt, turning it off. “No! No, you don’t understand-!”

He choked as you pushed the vibrator into his open mouth, watching the creamy white ring envelope his lips as you pushed it down his throat, watching as he obediently sucked on it like you wanted him to. “You just like sucking on shit with me on it, don’t you? If I had another man fuck me, would you be desperate to suck his cock baby?”

He whined, shaking his head around the vibrator had been inside of you, soaked and covered in your arousal and cum. You pulled it out of his mouth to hear him whine even louder, his head shaking. “No, no! Mommy, mommy you promised that if I was good I’d be able to fuck you!”

“But you weren’t good, were you?” You hissed, squeezing his chin as you threw the vibrator to the side, forcing him onto his back. “I wanted to be nice and feel your mouth on my tits, but you wanted to bite me?”

“Pl-Please, you had milk coming out!” He basically begged, his hands cupping your tits and fingers squeezing at your nipples. The sensation makes you scream out, gasping as he rolls the hard, sensitive buds between his fingers, gasping as he pulls them slightly and the white liquid slowly starts to drip out. He groaned, staring up at you in desperation. “Can I please… please suck them, mommy?”

You paused, staring down at the liquid dribbling from your nipples. How the fuck were you lactating right now? There was absolutely no way you were pregnant, there was no other symptoms, you were on birth control-

“Y/N?”

Your eyes meet his as he smiles, sitting up.

“Just because you're lactating, doesn’t mean you’re pregnant. It can be caused by constant stimulation to the nipple and breast.”

You paused, holding his shoulders as he slowly ducked down to delicately lick the translucent, white tinted liquid. “Did you... look that up?”

“Well, yeah,” he laughed, shrugging. “I could tell that it kind of bothered you whenever I stopped, and they were getting heavier and you said that they were sore, so I looked it up to see if me sucking on them was doing anything. That’s why I just gave them massages for a while.”

You stared down at him, confused. “I thought you just liked squeezing my tits.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “As much as I do like that, I care about your well-being more.”

You could feel your heart swell, a smile on your lips as you leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. “You’ve been doing so good, baby, I think you deserve a treat for looking out for your mommy.”

He groaned as you leaned down, pressing another kiss to his lips, his mouth desperately following yours as you pulled away. “Wh-What do you mean by a treat?”

“Anything you want, baby,” you say, giggling. “You just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Can… can I fuck you?” He whispered desperately, inhaling sharply as you hummed, nodding.

“How do you want me, honey?”

“L-Lay back for me,” he whispered, nodding. “Please.”

You smiled as you slowly got off, laying on your back with a languid stretch as he quickly straddled your waist after slipping off his clothes. He lifted himself up, pumping his cock as you tilted your head slightly, desperate to look at his way too pretty cock. It wasn’t the thickest in girth, but his length and the slight upwards curve from how fucking hard he was with the picturesque dribble of cum sliding out of his tip.

He groaned as he slowly slid his tip up and down your slit, jaw falling as he tilted his head back with even the slightest push into you. His fist nightly to the thought of you had nothing on the warmth of your cunt, how fucking soaked you were, and fuck you couldn’t have been tighter. He had to hold himself back from cumming just from this, a shaky groan falling from his mouth as your hands slowly trail up his chest, his perfect milky skin making you groan.

He cursed, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips, a whine falling from his mouth as you rolled your hips into his. “You ever going to start moving?”

He groaned, head tilting back as he desperately tried to control the sporadic bucks of his hips. “Y-You feel… you feel too good. F-Fuck, fuck, I can’t move without cumming,” he whispered, his voice breathy as you tried to hold back from moving your hips on your own. “Pl-Please, just let me… let me stay here for a minute, n-need to feel you.”

You held back a pout, nodding reluctantly. “Not too long, baby, before I give myself pleasure.”

Ethan groaned as he leaned down, desperately kissing at your neck as his hands groped your tits, his thumbs finding your nipples and sliding over them firmly. “N-No, no, I’ll still… I’ll still give you pleasure, mommy, that’s what I’m here for. To give you pleasure.”

“Well, don’t just give it to me on my tits, my love.”

As much as you did love him sucking and licking at your nipples, desperately drinking at the milk that was a production of constant stimulation, a sigh leaving your mouth at the same feeling filled your body like it had the past few weeks. It felt good, a weight of some sort being lifted from your swollen tits at the milk being sucked out, but with his cock this deep inside of you, how could you not want it?

You shifted your hips, smiling when you heard the whine fall from his lips, purposely clenching your cunt around his cock. He gasped against your tit, groaning loudly as you pushed your hips off the bed, rolling your hips against his to get his cock deeper inside of you, his hips bucking against yours seemingly on accident.

You gasped as his teeth dug into your nipple once again, whining loudly as his hips started to move faster, more collected. You certainly didn’t expect him to be this good at fucking right off the bat, his shaft rubbing along your walls as one of his hands push down between the two of you, smearing your wetness along your slit and rubbing at your clit.

You moaned loudly, gasping as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his back arched as he attempted to continue thrusting into you as he sucked on your tits, his thrusts getting rougher as your nails dragged down his back. He pulled away from your tit with a deep inhale, a shaky moan leaving your mouth as the white liquid dribbled down his chin.

“A-Am I doing good, mommy?” The name makes your walls clamp down on his cock, a whine leaving your mouth as his hips stutter, your cunt used to the steady and rough pace of his thrusts being affected by the slight falter. “I-Is that a yes? Y-You clench when I call you mommy, you really like it, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes!” You yelled out, gasping as his tip kissed your cervix, grazing that one spot that made your eyes roll back. Your mouth fell open, moaning wantonly as his hands held your tits to keep some sort of steadiness to his actions.

His mind was cloudy and hazy, body hot in desperation to just fuck you. He had been waiting desperately until he got to this point, thinking of you every time he pumped his cock, hating your teasing when you forced him to watch you get yourself off with that pretty pink vibrator that you shoved down his throat earlier. Fuck, he was jealous of a fucking sex toy.

“Do you like it when I fuck you like this, mommy? Do you want me to be rougher, softer? J-Just tell me, fu-fuck, just tell me what to do.” Ethan whined, his face moving to press against your neck to get into more of a comfortable position, your cunt clenching around him once again making him groan. “J-Just tell me!”

“D-Don’t stop,” you cover your mouth, whimpering as your cheeks turned red in embarrassment; a fucking virgin has you this fucked out? A virgin is making you feel this good? “J-Just don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop!”

He groaned loudly, slamming into you as his fingers squeezed your clit firmly, taking pleasure in the way your hips bucked and your walls convulsed around his length, his vision going white as he came inside of you. You gasped, just the feeling of those hot ropes of cum squirting into you making you scream out, desperately trying to get that perfect thrust to hit your g-spot, the sharp thrust of his hips successfully making you come undone and cum all over his cock.

You could feel his cock twitching, still not softening. You had never been with a virgin before, so you assumed that he probably just needed a few more thrusts to successfully go soft, but with the lazy rolls of his hips, he was still fucking hard.

Slowly, you patted his chest, inhaling deeply. “Can I ride you, baby?”

He inhaled sharply, nodding as you pushed against his chest, inhaling sharply as you sat on his cock. You whined, his length still incredibly hard as he shifted himself, slipping a pillow underneath his hips to help push his cock into you at a new angle. You could feel every bulging vein on his shaft, his perfect arched cock pushing into you, desperately bouncing on his cock to get it as deep inside of you as you could.

Your nails dug into his chest, your head lulling back when you felt his tip hit that perfect spot inside of you, the knot inside of your stomach weak from your first orgasm. You could feel it being teased by his tip, each bounce making his head hit that perfect spot inside of you, loud groans falling from your mouth as he held your hips.

“Yes, yes, fuck!” He groaned, head tilting back as he accidentally bucked his hips, your nails digging into his chest as your eyes rolled back, supporting yourself to stay sitting up as you screamed out. “F-Fuck, fuck, don’t stop mommy, please.”

You could feel his cock continue to twitch inside of your cunt, groaning loudly as more cum flooded into you, your thighs shaking as you lifted yourself up, keeping his tip inside of you before releasing your weight again and sinking down onto his cock. He groaned loudly, tears pricking his eyes as he squeezed your hips. You were not going to let a fucking virgin outlast you.

“Y-You sure you’re a virgin, Ethan?” You whimper, a laugh falling from his mouth as you reach toward his face to wipe the tears falling from his cheeks. “Fucking hell, Ethan! We've been at it for hours, how are you still hard?!"

He was definitely a virgin if he was crying after two releases, but he definitely couldn’t be a virgin if he was still hard.

He laughed as he rolled his hips upward, groaning without holding back from his thrusts upward into you, your hands on his shoulders and your nails digging into his shoulders to stabilize yourself. You weren’t going to let yourself fly forward like you were tired, because as much as you were tired, you weren’t going to let him see that.

“Y-Yes, yes mommy, am I doing good for you? F-Fuck, I love it when you use me, mommy, I love it when you fucking use me for your own pleasure!” He groaned out, your walls tight around his shaft as he slammed his hips upward, desperately trying to chase his next release.

As much as you wanted to stay sitting up, put on that strong front, you couldn’t. You flew forward, groaning as your tried to hold yourself up above him, his mouth ducking to suck on your tits once again. The added stimulation made you scream out, eyes rolling back as another mind blurring orgasm resonated in your body, tummy convulsing as your walls clamped down on his cock.

Your nails dug into the sheets, gripping the silk fabric between your fingers as his teeth teasingly dragged against your nipple, his hands holding your hips as he thrusted into your abused cunt just a few more times, another orgasm rippling through his body as he came again, whimpering against your shoulder as you panted above him.

“You can’t be a virgin.”

He laughed as he pushed you onto your back, humming. “Can I keep going?”

You inhaled sharply, pausing when his cock continued to stay hard inside of you, but you nodded. You wanted someone who could keep up with you, who cared if it was a virgin? “Yes baby, you can.”

He groaned, leaning down for a firm kiss to your lips. “Thank you mommy, thank you so much. I love you, I’ll make you feel so fucking good, I promise.”

You groaned as he slowly flipped you onto your side, his hands pushing against your tits as he kneeled in front of your cunt and over one of your thighs, pulling your other leg over his shoulder.

Fuck, he truly was the perfect virgin.

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@yoongiwife23]𓆪 𓆩[@urlocalbum12-blog]𓆪

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪 𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪 𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪 𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪 𓆩[@wenvierismycomfort]𓆪 𓆩[@copypastedaphne]𓆪 𓆩[@f-aggotry]𓆪

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callsign-dexter · 5 months ago

Text

Big Brother to the Rescue

Summary: You, Y/N Rhodes, get really sick during the night and have to be taken to the hospital. You're dad is not around and Claire is out of town so you turn to the only person you trust, your big brother, Connor Rhodes.

Pairings: Connor Rhodes x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, cussing, inaccurate medical talk, fever, vomit, hospitals

Masterlist

You loved your brother, Connor Rhodes, to death and he loved you the same, maybe even more. You love your sister, Claire Rhodes, too but not as much as you loved Connor. They practically raised you. Your living situation was not good. Your father, Cornelius Rhodes, was a massive jerk and your mother passed away when you were young. You looked up to Clarie as a mother figure and Connor as a father figure. Connor was only 16 when you were born and he instantly fell in love with you and was proud to be the big brother and jumped at every chance to help out with you. He was the best big brother you could ask for. Clarie was the best sister you could ask for too but it wasn't a bond like you and Connor had.

Growing up was not the most pleasant and it turned worse when your mother passed. When Connor turned 18, he tried so hard to get custody over you but it was quickly shot down even though he had a steady income and home but your dad was so powerful that he made it not happen. It also didn't help that Connor was going to medical school and wasn't home a lot but it could've worked, you still visited him often and had a lot of sleepovers with him plus it was a place for you to escape from your dad. When your guys’ dad started to criticize him for his medical school he had enough and moved to a different state but that didn't stop you from contacting him all the time and taking trips, when you were allowed, down to see him in Guadalajara, Mexico. It broke your heart that he moved but your bond never weakened and when he spent his residency in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, you weren't allowed to visit him but video calling was a daily routine. He hated that he couldn't bring you with him but he didn't have custody and it would be too much hassle to get you over to Saudi Arabia whereas Mexico was a little easier.

—------

When Connor finally came back to Chicago, you were 12, you were ecstatic you finally had your father figure back. You caught him up on everything and while he was away. Claire resented him for leaving but she could never be mad at you. She would do everything to protect you, if you had girl questions or boy problems you were going to her. Your dad couldn't give a shit about you, sure he fed you and gave you a roof over your head but he didn't want you and he could care less about you. So, when Connor came back and started working at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center for his fellowship for trauma surgery fellowship everything went back to normal. Your daily meetups, sleepovers, and going to him for problems and medical issues started right back up like he never left. He still tried to get custody but it failed every time but he wasn't going to stop fighting for you, they wouldn't let him have you even if you said you wanted to live with him.

—------

When you were 13 you had gotten really sick like hospital sick. It was a night that Connor wasn't working and you were just in agony. Claire had moved out and your father was at a charity thing leaving you home alone. It started in the middle of the night waking you up from a dead sleep. You desperately tried to call your dad but it just went to voicemail so you tried one more time and he answered

“Dad, I don't feel good.” You told him.

“What's wrong?” He asked and this gave a you some hope.

“My stomach really hurts. I feel like I'm going to throw up. I feel hot.” You said

“Suck it up. There is medicine in the cabinet downstairs.” He said and hung up and you let out a sob.

You pulled yourself off your bed and dragged yourself to the steps and took painful steps down the steps. You sobbed the entire time. You finally got to the kitchen and opened the cabinet and grabbed the painkillers and you took them. Almost immediately as it touched your stomach you were throwing up everywhere. You were so weak. So weak that you just ended up collapsing onto the kitchen floor just barely missing your throw up. Thankfully you had grabbed your phone and slowly and shakingly grabbed your phone, your vision blurring. You unlocked it and pulled up your contacts and hit one you knew all too well. It rang not even once and Connor's voice came through.

“Y/N/N? It's 3 AM. What's wrong?” He asked in a voice full of concern.

“I... I... I don't feel good.” You said your teeth were chattering because despite your temperature, you were freezing.

“Where's dad? Did you tell him?” He asked and you could hear him rustling around.

“He's at a charity event. I... I called him and told him but he told me to suck it up and take the medicine in the cabinet in the kitchen. I'm in so much pain, Con. I took the medicine and immediately threw it up.” You told him the feeling of the cold floor was nice.

“Bastard.” He murmured “I'm on my way. You stay put.” He said.

“I'm hot but so cold.” You said letting your eyes droop. “So tired.” You added.

“Hey, stay on the phone with me. Why didn't you call Clarie? She lives closer.” He asked

“She's gone out of town.” You said and you could hear him get into his car and the engine start.

“Son of a bitch.” He said and started to drive as fast as he could while still obeying the speed limit. He kept talking to you but you stopped responding and that scared him. He hung up when he arrived at your guys’ family home. He was quick to jump out and run to the front door and grab the key under the mat and opened it.

The house was dark but he knew where you were at. “Y/N/N. It's me.” He yelled out but got no response. He walked into the kitchen and saw you lying there. “Fuck.” He murmured to himself and ran over to you missing your vomit. He kneeled down and touched your forehead and retracted his hand “Damn, Sis. You're burning up.” He said. He walked over to the drawer and grabbed the thermometer and thankfully it was on that stuck in your ear. He put it there and waited for it to beep and when it did, he cursed and read it aloud “104.3. Fuck I need to take you in.” He said and started to try and wake you up. “Y/N/N, Sweetheart. It's me. Your brother. Can you open your eyes?” He asked as he pressed two fingers to your neck. “Damn, pulse is way too fast.” He said and him talking must've started to rouse you.

“Con?” You asked and he smiled softly.

“Yea it's me. Can you open your eyes?” He asked and you cracked them open until they were open. “There we go.” He said.

“Tired.” You said and started to close again.

“No. Hey, keep those eyes open. I'm going to take you to Med, Ok?” He asked and you nodded.

“Ok. Go see Will?” You asked and he smiled. Will has become a favorite of yours and he doesn’t know why.

“Yes. We'll go see Will.” He said as he started to stand you and your legs shook like a newborn foal's standing for the first time. “Can you walk?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You said in barely just a whisper and you tried to take a few steps and all but collapsed into his arms.

“That is a no.” He said and then he was scooping you up into his arms and walking out of the house and to his car. He got you in the passenger side seat and then him in the driver’s seat and he was off heading to Med as fast as he could. He continued to talk to you to keep you awake and before you knew it you were pulling into Med. He parked and turned the car off and got out heading to the passenger side seat. He quickly scooped you up and shut the door hastily. He rushed you into ED where he saw Maggie. “Mags.” He said and she looked up at him and quickly rushed you into a bay. “She wants Will.” He said and she nodded. She walked out of the room and went to get Will not even a second later he was rushing into the room.

“Connor? What is going on?” He asked

“She called me saying she didn’t feel good and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me she was hot but so cold. She said she took some medicine but once she took it, she immediately threw up. When I got there, she was passed out on the floor next to a pile of vomit. She was burning up to the touch, she had and still has according to the monitor a temperature of 104.3 and her pulse was fast, way too fast.” He explained as they could see from the monitor “She also said she was really tired. I woke her up and had her stand and she shook like a life, she tried to walk but she collapsed into my arms and then I quickly got her in the car and rushed her here.” He finished.

“Why isn’t Cornelius here instead?” Will asked

“He is at a charity event. Left her by herself. She called him and told him she was sick but he told her to suck it up and take the medicine in the cabinet.

“Bastard.” Will said

“That’s what I said.” Connor said

“I want to get an ultrasound done on her stomach to rule out appendicitis.” Will said and Connor nodded.

“I agree.” Connor said and soon Will was calling in the ultrasound machine and he got to work with the help of a nurse. “So, it is not appendicitis.” Connor confirmed and Will nodded.

“I want to run some tests on her. Swab for flu and viral infection and take some blood as well.” He said and Connor nodded. Throughout this entire process you had been out and now that you were in the hospital you were allowed to sleep. “I want to get some fluids running to help with her temperature and get some IV children’s Tylenol on board as well.” He said and again Connor nodded. As the nurse was preparing everything you started to wake up.

“Will?” You asked and he smiled and looked over at you.

“Hey, Sweetheart. We’re going to get you feeling better, ok? I just want to run some tests.” He said and you nodded.

“Ok.” You said and then you saw the needles “Con, no.” You said and shook your head but that was a mistake because it hurt your head.

“Hey it is ok. I’ll be here the entire time. Ok?” He asked and you nodded and then he nodded at the nurse and Will and everyone got to work. Soon blood was taken, fluids were hooked up, and swabs were taken.

“Get those tests going ASAP.” Will told the nurse and she nodded and they were out of the room. Will had to tend to some other patients and you both understood and they let you go back to sleep. With the fluids going your pulse was starting to come up and it was steady since you were sleeping and your temperature was starting to come down and the IV children’s Tylenol helped with that. 20 minutes later Will was coming in.

“So?” Connor asked

“She has a really bad viral infection and she has a really bad case of the flu. I want to get her admitted and keep her here for a few days.” Will said

“This had to be going on for a few days.” Connor said

“Did she not tell you anything about it?” He asked and Connor shook his head.

“No, she didn’t look sick when we met up a couple of days ago.” Connor said, sighing and Will nodded.

“Let’s get her moved.” Will said and so they did.

The next time you were waking up, 3 hrs. after coming into ED, you were waking up in a room. “Connor?” You asked sluggishly.

“Hey, Sis. I’m here.” He said coming over to you as he entered the room with a cup of coffee.

“Where am I?” You asked and he smiled and came over and sat next to you.

“In the hospital. You have a really bad case of the flu and a bad viral infection. Will is taking care of you and has you on antibiotics.” He said and you nodded and you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Dad?” You asked

“Not here.” He said and to be honest he didn’t want him here. He hadn’t even thought about him since you arrived here and boy was, he going to have some words for him. “Go back to sleep.” He said and you nodded and were out like a light and he could tell because your heart rate slowed. Now it was time to have some words for his father. He made sure you were asleep before pulling his phone out and stepping out of the room where he saw Will. “Hey, I need to make a phone call. Mind staying with her?” He asked and Will smiled.

“Of course.” He said and walked into the room with you and Connor walked into the doctor’s lounge and dialed his dad’s phone number and he rang 5 times before he answered. Cornelius didn’t even have time to say hi before Connor started to rail into him.

“Do you know where your daughter is?” Connor asked

“No, but she has made a mess in the kitchen she needs to clean up.” Cornelius said and Connor saw red.

“She’s in the hospital because she has a bad case of the flu and a bad case of a viral infection.” Connor said venom in his words.

“Well, she needs to get home now and clean the mess up.” He said

“She will be doing no such thing. Not anymore.” Connor said

“And why is that?” Cornelius asked

“Because she is coming to live with me. I was the one that found her when she called and told me what was going on while you were too busy at a charity event. She told you she was sick and you told her to suck it up. You told her to take the medicine in the cabinet and she instantly threw it up. She was running a 104.3 fever when I found her and she couldn’t even stand or walk. She was so weak. I’m filing for sole custody of her and you’re going to sign it because you are not fit to be a father let alone a guardian. You will not be coming to see her. You will not see her at all unless she is with me or have contact with her. That is final.” He went off on him. Cornelius was silent by the time he was done.

“Fine. Keep the bitch. I don’t care. I’ll have her stuff packed and waiting for you to pick it up.” He said and then hung up the phone. Connor was relieved now he needed to start the paperwork. He let out a sigh of relief.

Connor walked back to your room and saw you wake and sitting up talking to Will. You looked over and saw him. You still looked tired but you were awake. “Where were you?” You asked.

“I was on the phone with dad.” He said

“I’ll leave the two of you alone. I will be back in a few to check on you.” Will said, directing that last sentence to you. You and Connor nodded and Will left.

“Is he coming?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No.” He said and you looked relieved “I have good news though.” He said and you perked up.

“Oh?” You asked curious and he nodded.

“From now on you will be coming to live with me and you won’t see him or talk to him.” Connor said and your face brightened.

“Really?” You asked and he nodded.

“Really.” He said and you squealed in excitement. Your wish was finally coming true. You were going to be living with your big brother. You then started to go on about all the things you two could do together and he smiled and nodded. You suddenly stopped talking and looked at him and smiled. “What?” He asked.

“I love you, Con.” You said and he smiled.

“I love you too, Y/N/N. Now and forever.” He said and he leaned over to kiss your forehead.

“Now and forever.” You confirmed. Your wish did come true and you couldn’t be happier.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

@callsign-revenge

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viivenn · 9 months ago

Text

making an important announcement about some things i’ve noticed in the gwendoline christie fandom that really bug me.

disclaimer: read this at your own convenience and discretion. i am not responsible for any sort of hurt feelings and frankly… i don’t care. if you’re mad about this, you are probably the problem. /lh

to start with id like to begin on a positive note so that i’m not diving into negativity, i don’t want to be completely negative about my experiences because i’ve actually met some of the kindest people in the world through this fan base.

the gwen fandom, the gwandom, the gwendoline christie fandom , the lesbian cesspool, has been an incredible experience that i’m grateful i’ve had the pleasure of being apart of.

i went through a rough patch during november, and if i hadn’t found out about gwen, or met such wonderful people during my time here , i honestly wouldn’t be here right now. i owe my life to these people, gwen included. i will forever adore miss christie and what she stands for alongside the friends i’ve made along the way.

and while i know someday this hyperfix will end, it’s really disheartening to me when a fandom is what makes me grow distant from things i enjoy. it happened before, i feel as though it is happening all over again.

and no, i’m not taking issue with anything like the catrissa stuff or the brienne and larissa ship going around or anything like that. i like that we can all be weird together and enjoy aus like catrissa and crackships like bririssa (not sure the official name that was decided lol). my issue is the amount of content i’ve seen that either focuses on gwen herself, or the strange relationship with minors, or the odd artwork of gwen, and the absolute disgusting behaviour towards giles.

gwen would be absolutely appalled seeing fanfictions of herself that involve nsfw or just her in general, anyone would, it’s disgusting to make works of real people in that setting. it’s like you’re treating them as an original character you can mould and manipulate as you see fit and using someone who is real with thought and feeling and consciousness for smut fics is not okay, or any fic in general. i totally get the hype around her characters, i literally have “brienne’s princess” in my bio and i’ve had “jane murdstone’s bloodbag” (in reference to my vamp au) as a name in a discord server.

but i think the fandom has begun to blur the lines between fictional characters and reality settings when it comes to gwen and the personalities she portrays on the television screen. it’s not fair to her. it’s disgusting. i’ve seen a minor do it, i’ve seen a grown adult do it. it’s something i don’t see shamed and frowned upon often enough and it’s really not okay.

on that note i’d like to quickly mention the photos, we alllll know what photos i’m talking about. the bunny one, the nudes, the ones gwen has expressed regret towards and wishes to not have them spread. was there not a “fan” who brought her a book of her nudes and wanted her to sign it? that person who was blocked on instagram by gwen because they reposted her nudes on their story and tagged her???? how can you refer to yourself as a fan after behaving so abhorrently? absolutely disgusting behaviour. as a collective fandom we need to stop touching those photos (metaphorically speaking) and leave them in the past.

i’ve been told of numerous circumstances in which adults have shown their nsfw works to minors in this fandom and it has to fucking stop. it’s disgusting!! how can you do that knowingly? i constantly ponder terminating my account after a minor got ahold of my nsfw work, and upon realising they WERE a minor it was as simple as blocking and moving on. it’s truly not that hard, folks. and the minors on tiktok who fight with others saying silly things like “that’s my wife” or worse. i’ve seen it all, i feel like, and the more i see it the more sick i become. i cannot stand it.

i have seen and heard of fans who have fat shamed gwen for that one pink dress she wore to the met gala. she looked so happy in that dress, and the audacity one must have to fatshame that poor woman on twitter then turn around and continue to proclaim your ‘love for her’ as if you’d done no wrong? are you fucking serious? are you mental?

and the sexualisation over the porcelain doll look, gods some of you are sick. those were not real breasts, people. considering the fact she wholeheartedly regrets her nude photoshoots , what possesses you to believe she would actually flaunt her chest in that outfit?

the blatant mistreatment of poor giles is not fucking okay either. just because you’re jealous of someone who makes her immensely happy does not give you the right to post something so vile and cruel about him. shame on you. why do you believe this is okay to post:

????????

are you serious? have any of you stopped to consider how HAPPY giles makes her? or is her happiness the last thing you ponder when you look at her? have you even noticed how unhappy she looks lately? have you truly paused to consider how she would feel about seeing this on your page, random twitter user, or the rest of you who think this is okay? bless your hearts.

and some of the absolutely horrific things i’ve seen about her online and the hurtful behaviour towards giles makes me question the difference between a fan and just the general paparazzi. because if you truly loved her and you truly loved giles then i would not be ranting into the fucking void about it for no reason.

i avoid interacting with pages i find problematic on here to keep from stirring the pot but tonight i chose violence and got reeeeeal pissy about how i felt about this place. it’s not okay what i see on here and it’s getting exhausting seeing the same cycle of content on a daily.

that’s everything i have to say, i think. i probably missed a lot that should be discussed in the comments but i’m done for now because i know if i go on i’ll probably cry.

before you post things about real people with real feelings , stop to consider how they will feel those real feelings towards the content you put out. chances are you’ll become less problematic and obnoxious that way. 💘

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

Text

Difficult III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Baby!Reader

Summary: A domestic day at home when you were a baby

Ingrid thinks Mapi hasn't looked prettier than when you're on her hip.

It's where she can most often find you.

Mapi's enamoured with you, Ingrid knows this. She hovers around you like she's a little kid around a new puppy.

It's pretty adorable and Ingrid can't help but smile often when Mapi sits with you on the floor and helps you play with your cars.

"She's not going to fall, Mapi," Ingrid says with a hint of humour as you toddle around the room pushing your little walker.

"She might."

"She won't."

"But she might."

"Mapi," Ingrid says fondly," She can walk fine. She's not going to fall."

You ram your walker into the wall, giggling loudly at the sound it makes. You do it a second time and then a third. You let go of it and clap, jumping around before abandoning it in favour of toddling over to your playmat and slumping down on top of it.

A Norwegian soap opera plays on the tv, the opening credits that you clearly know very well by the way you're bopping your head along and garbling out sounds that Mapi's half sure aren't actually words but she doesn't quite understand Norwegian just yet so she can't be truly certain.

Ingrid clicks her tongue at you and says a long string of words that Mapi doesn't understand again.

You turn your head to look at her, gummy smile wide and happy.

Ingrid pats the space between them and you pull yourself over, arms raised up so you can be lifted.

You wiggle between the pair of them, sucking happily at the sippy cup Ingrid gives you. You've just properly started to wean off bottles and Mapi's, yet again, in complete awe at the way Ingrid knows exactly what to do with you.

It's hard to believe that your Ingrid's first baby, though, probably also her last.

You're more than enough for both of them.

You push away Ingrid's hand and take the sippy cup in your own.

Immediately, Mapi feels nervous.

"She's not going to drown herself," Ingrid says with a laugh," She's trying to be more independent."

"She's a baby," Mapi replies," She shouldn't need to be independent."

"She's a baby," Ingrid echoes," She's growing up. She won't be with us together."

"No," Mapi says firmly, pulling you onto her lap and curling her body around your little one," She's going to stay with us forever and ever."

Ingrid laughs. You look to be quite happy sitting on Mapi's lap, wiggling your little toes as you stare blankly at the tv ahead of you.

"You'll get sick of her when she's older."

"Of my bebita? No. Never happening." She presses a kiss to your cheek that you begrudgingly accept before tugging at her fingers with your strong baby grip.

You screech when her grip on you tightens and you try to push her off.

"Mapi," Ingrid says warningly, plucking you from her grip to place back on your playmat," You can't hold her like that. She doesn't like it."

Mapi pouts but you're happy again on your playmat, banging a toy car on the floor and throwing it across the room. You scooch around on your bum a bit, just out of reach of her extended arms.

You end up sitting with Bagheera, who lets you rhythmically pat her back with little more than a judgemental look in her eyes.

Ingrid's happy to let you play by yourself, nudging Mapi with her feet to get her to stop staring at you.

"She's not going anywhere. It's just Bagheera."

"She might scratch her."

Mapi's never had an issue with Bagheera scratching people before but with you sitting by yourself, she can't help but imagine everything going wrong and you getting hurt.

"Then she'll know not do it again," Ingrid replies," You can't protect her from everything."

You grow bored of Bagheera quickly and bum shuffle back over to the sofa. You peek your head over the arm where Mamí is sitting. You make eye contact with Mumma, who smiles at you.

"We should put her in bubblewrap," Mapi says," And I think we should get her a helmet. Just in case."

She's shocked when you pull yourself up, popping your head over the arm of the sofa as you propel yourself forward. You tumble head first into her lap but right yourself and climb over her to get to Ingrid, who happily takes you into her arms.

You sag against her, wining.

She presses the sippy cup against your mouth and you happily drink.

A camera shutter sounds and Ingrid looks up to see Mapi holding up her phone.

You turn too, more so because Mumma's not looking at you than you actually caring about what Mamí's doing.

"I'm going to make that my lock screen," Mapi says as you grunt and wiggle your way into standing up on Ingrid's thighs.

It's nice being tall like Mumma sometimes but you find yourself getting bored of it like you got bored of your walker and of Bagheera.

The outro of the soap opera starts playing and your hurriedly scramble onto the floor to bounce to the rhythm.

It's not quite dancing (you don't have the fine motor control to do that just yet) but your bouncing is quite good and Mapi immediately connects her phone to the speakers.

"Dance party, bebita!"

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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annabelle--cane · 1 year ago

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I guess the thing that makes me not so fond of Jon's addiction allegory is that it's only coherent to a certain extent? Like I think people sometimes forget that he's actively violating these people

anon, through no fault of your own you have accidentally hit upon my sleeper agent trigger phrase. I have layers of answers to this.

so first off, yeah, it's not a 1:1 direct metaphor, it's a soupy dream logic fantasy plot device with flavors of a lot of different things. there's quite a lot of addiction in there, there's some abuse of power, there's some cyclical nature of trauma, there's a dash of disability, there's a few notes of gendered violence, there's a good bit of just. violence violence and being kind of a motherfucker because goddammit it feels good to be an active agent about something in your life, even if it's just choosing to be a worse version of yourself than you strictly need to be. a lot of tma's worldbuilding is very allegorical, but apart from aspects of individual statements nothing really matches up quite 1:1 with a real world counterpart, and if more things did then it probably wouldn't be a fantasy show anymore.

secondly. okay to contextualize this answer a little bit I have a kind of hypothetical video essay project about vampirism and addiction that I like to spend a few hours thinking about every so often but am almost certainly never going to make because the full research burden required is a lot higher than I actually have the time to properly do. but because of that I've spent a lot of time sorting through why framing vampires as addicts really works for me in a way that it doesn't seem to for everyone, and I think a lot of my thoughts on that also apply to jon. there's going to be a bit of a detour here before we get back to talking about tma, but we'll get there, I prommy.

I've seen a lot of people take issue with various paranormal addiction allegories because, a lot of the time, the act that is meant to metaphorically represent the act of use itself is something that is directly and inherently harmful to others, e.g. drinking human blood, handing over power to your hedonistic Evil alter ego, holding the cursed amulet and going crazy going stupid, slurping trauma out of the head of some guy you ran into on a boat to norway, etc., and yeah, I do get that. substance use is not inherently harmful like that to anyone except sometimes the user themself, and addicts are not inherently fucked up and destructive people; those are dangerous stereotypes that often lead to the demonizing of a whole group of sick people.

here's the thing for me, though: those are definitely truths I want explored and represented when it comes to portrayals of non-allegorical actual addicts, but fantasy fiction isn't for showing the world as it is, it's for showing a subjective fun house mirror version of reality where certain aspects are minimized and magnified depending on how it feels to live through it. and yes, absolutely in real life drug use is not an inherently evil act and it does not make you an inherently evil person, but... doesn't it kind of feel like that? sort of? absolutely no one is living their best life nor on their best behavior while experiencing any kind of major mental illness episode, and when it comes to addiction you've got a very clear tangible symbol of when The Episode is happening that it feels like you have much more control over than when it comes to other illnesses. it's also a thing where people are a lot more likely to be openly angry and distrustful of you if they find out it's happening. so you mix together the ideas of "I know I get worse as a result of doing this one specific thing" + "I act less like myself when I'm using, it rearranges my priorities and I care less about hurting people because that's what happens when you're experiencing The Horrors" + "society at large/people directly around me are pretty quick to say that doing this is evil," and you get the subjective emotional result of "I hurt people by using and it makes me monstrous." I tend to respond to those kinds of paranormal allegories like they're just cutting out the middle man of those subjective fears. "using makes me monstrous" -> "using is monstrous."

anyway. jon archivist.

don't get me wrong, I totally understand if this aspect of metaphor doesn't gel for some people and they only like taking it exactly as far as the text explicitly makes them, but I really get a lot out of reading jon's connection to the fears as addiction precisely because he does genuinely awful things to people as a result of it. he's a person in a very bad physical and mental place with little to no support who is constantly being told by both allies and enemies that he's already a monster just by being alive, and he copes with that by secretly falling further and further into an compulsive act of consumption that skews his priorities and makes him care less about hurting people because at least sometimes getting to be the cause of pain makes him feel a little bit less powerless when he has to be the subject of pain the rest of the time. then he's found out and is made to stop, and he has to grapple not just with the physical toll of withdrawal but with knowing there is a not insignificant part of him that will excuse any act of malice if he knows he'll feel better afterwards.

the end of tma is very explicit in the fact that the rules of its world are shaped by the subjective worst fears of those who live in it, it's "an exercise in unreliably reality" as jonny sims put it once, and I think that principle extends backwards in some ways to apply to the rest of the show. I don't think the fact that there are only entities of fear and not hope or love is meant to be a full commentary on the total nature of the real world, it's a reflection of what fear and suffering can make the world feel like. eric and melanie both go to really harsh extremes to extricate themselves from the fears and live peaceful lives, and in both cases something happens that foils their plans (getting murdered + the apocalypse, respectively), but I don't think the intended message is to say that is definitively how real life works, they are metaphors for the limits of individual agency in larger systems and represent two types of worst-case-scenarios. similarly, I don't think reading jon as an addict implies that addiction inherently involves violence or that the reactions of those around him were completely unjustified, it's just a subjective exploration of the kinds of fears that can come with addiction dialed up to 100.

#also to be clear after the first paragraph I'm using 'you' in a general sense not directly to You The Anon Who Sent This #I'm not trying to insinuate anything about whether You The Anon Who Sent This does or doesn't have any experience w substance use #tma #answered #anons

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hollowed-theory-hall · 21 days ago

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hi!

we see harry’s anger truly manifest in ootp, and it was a treat reading your analysis on his ptsd!

but it’s been a longheld belief in the fandom that harry is this firecracker with concerningly poor anger management. which is absurd, frankly imo, because i understand his default style is quiet, intense intimidation, or sass and snark. except when his fury reaches the threshold of his control, and he lets go fully and spectacularly. we also see in the later books that harry keeps trying to rein in the onslaught of fury pouring from voldemort, and while he does channel that anger outwardly, he isn’t making a habit of frequently lashing out at the people around him.

what i’m really asking is, what are your thoughts on harry’s anger and how he manages his frustrations from age eleven to seventeen?

Hello 👋

Thank you! I love my boy Harry and his anger and trauma so much! His trauma doesn't manifest in the way most fandoms usually like to portray trauma, but I always loved how Harry breaks when he reaches his threshold. He's a fascinating character and I find myself disappointed in his treatment over the years in fanon.

As to your question, boy, okay, this is complex and is greatly affected by Harry's mental state. I mentioned here how his anger is often colder and sassier and the fiery anger that's all shouting and cursing is something we only really see from him in OotP and onwards and I believe is the result of trauma, as I mentioned here & here.

But I decided, you know what? I can take a few scenes of his anger from each book. It's something I have a lot of notes about, and I'm surprised I haven't written about it here yet since it's a subject I love talking about.

Now, I do think he has issues with emotional regulation in general. I mean, he was raised in a cupboard under the stairs, he is not emotionally well-adjusted even if he knows to appear as if he is. His anger and how it manifests is a result of years of trauma and abuse. Honestly, though, he manages his anger better than he could have considering his life experience.

So without further ado:

Philosopher's Stone:

In the first book, we see Harry angry at the Dursleys and their unfair treatment of him. This anger is interesting. He has every reason to be angry but it isn't just anger. It's his frustration and helplessness that he feels as anger because he lacks the tools to understand/deal with his emotions.

How we see this anger come out though, is mostly through sass. And even then he makes sure to run/duck away before they could hurt him:

“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. “Want to come upstairs and practice?” “No, thanks,” said Harry. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it — it might be sick.” Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he’d said.

(PS, Ch3)

Harry doesn't really have the luxury to get angry or upset because he's the one who would suffer for it. So, he bottles up all his anger and frustration and only lets it out in cold glares and sass even when he's fuming inside. In his heart of hearts, he wishes he could do something to the Dursleys, to hurt them back, but he can't.

I do want to note that Harry's hold on his range isn't him managing it well, it's him bottling it up. This would be very relevant later in this post.

The incident with the Boa Constrictor is one I like. Harry later refers to it as revenge in a moment of anger:

and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

(PS, Ch4)

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

(PS, Ch2)

He's unaware that he's doing it, of course, but Harry's magic is powerful and incredibly attuned to him, so of course, it acts up when he's angry. Of course, his magic gets revenge on Dudley when Harry is so angry but feels helpless to do something with it. Harry's magic here shows Harry wishes he could do something, that he could take revenge:

Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. “I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.”

(PS, Ch5)

He just can't. So he bottles up his anger instead.

The other person we see Harry angry at in the first book, is Snape. Harry responds to Snape quite similar to how he responds to the Dursleys:

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. “I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

(PS, Ch8)

He gets angry, inside his head he is fuming, but outside his head, Snape hears a sassy retort said quietly and calmly. Even when Harry is angry he acts calm and quiet and looks like he's joking from Seamus' response. It's why it's so easy for Snape to believe Harry is like James. Harry doesn't show his anger. External he's quiet and sassy becouse he knows if he started shouting he'd be punished more (like at the Dursleys).

So, 11-year-old Harry is quiet outside when angry. Only really shows glares and sass when he's upset while bottling his feelings up. This would continue throughout the years until year 5, for the most part.

Chamber of Secrets:

We see more of this way of handling his anger in CoS (though way less). CoS is not a very angry book, but I found a few examples.

“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggleloving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —” Harry felt a hot surge of anger.

(CoS, Ch4)

Harry is angry. He likes the Weasleys and hates hearing them being talked about like this. Still, no one else sees his anger because he's hiding, and he knows he'd be worse off if he left his hiding spot. Harry isn't all that impulsive (yet). He just swallows his anger down for the sake of what needs to be done — in this case hiding.

“Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.” He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. [...] Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, “Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make — ” “Your Bludger?” said Harry, anger rising once more. “What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?”

(CoS, Ch10)

Here, we see more of Harry's usual anger and how he bottles everything up. He is rightfully angry at Dobby for everything he did, but he also feels pity for him, his anger doesn't cloud Harry's ability to empathize with others. And if you look at the second quote, you see that in his head Harry is rightfully angry at an attempt to murder him but he's talking calmly and quietly. He isn't shouting. He isn't being violent or impolite. Harry's anger, as seen by others, is cold and quiet because he bottles it up.

“And why did you want to meet me?” said Harry. Anger was coursing through him, and it was an effort to keep his voice steady.

(CoS, Ch17)

This is later, when facing Tom. Harry feels betrayed. He wanted so bad to be Tom's freind, he tried so much to ignore what was happening so he could keep his new BFF and first crush. But when he is betrayed, he gets angry, rightfully so, again. And we see he isn't shouting or acting angry and rashly. He's speaking steadily and quietly and makes an active effort to do so.

Harry knows how he comes off and is actively trying to make his voice steady and not sound angry/scared! He's smart and not impulsive. He's very aware of his external behavior and actively conceals his anger from appearing externally.

My boy is angry, but he isn't a brash hothead.

I do want to note another thing about Harry's anger. Harry responds with anger when he's scared, when he's grieving, when he feels helpless. Anger is just the easiest emotional response for him to go to, and it's why he reacts with anger to a lot of the things he goes through. Anger is an emotion he understands, so everything kinda feels like anger that he can keep pushing down.

Prisoner of Azkaban:

In PoA, we have a few interesting scenes showcasing Harry's anger really well. Some of the anger descriptions from this book are my favorite by far but we'll get to it.

This is the first book we start seeing Harry act out in anger. Until now, we saw Harry fuming inside but acting calm to the outside world. In PoA, he still mostly does that, but we start seeing him cracking under the weight of life. That bottle he's been filling up for years is close to it's threshold.

just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. “COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.” He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. “I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”

(PoA, Ch2)

This above has Harry acting rashly and impulsively in anger. He is ready to just up and go in a moment of rage with little to no forethought which isn't how Harry usually operates. Aunt Marge and Vernon just made him reach his tipping point. Some of that anger has spilled out and Harry's acting out because he doesn't know what else to do.

This is a kid who up to this point never even had the chance to grieve his dead parents properly. He never got to just sit there and feel any of what he's going through. He just keeps swallowing it down and here, we see him start to slip. What he's been pushing down is starting to become too much.

I will note that still, even when he is more brash and angry here, he isn't shouting. He's speaking calmly and evenly even as he's raging inside.

I also want to note the situation with Hermione over the Firebolt:

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione. “What did you go running to McGonagall for?” [...] Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn’t know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests? Ron was furious with Hermione too.

(PoA, Ch11-12)

Harry is mad at Hermione, he has his reasons to be, but he understands why she did it. He is angry, but he's smart and empathetic and he knows Hermione. He knows she only wants him safe, he's still mad, but he doesn't shout at her like Ron does. He pushes his anger down because he doesn't want to upset her. He;s not as furious as Ron is.

In the early books, we see Ron stepping forward to curse Malfoy, shout at Hermione, or stop talking to Harry over the tournament. Ron's the one that is more hot-headed in the early books and springs to act in moments of anger while Harry tends to stay cool-headed (because he pushes his anger down). He is angry inside his head, but he stays calm outside and even stops Ron from going after Malfoy (eat slugs incident, Harry tried to stop him).

(I will note this might have to do with Ron having siblings. Letting your emotions out is a good thing. It is a good thing to tell people you are close to you are upset with them. Arguing with your siblings and shouting at them on occasion can even be healthy! It can keep you from creating grudges and getting bitter. It's not necessarily bad. It's just that Harry and Hermione didn't have siblings and don't know how healthy arguments between people who love each other (which is what Ron is going for with Hermione above) work.)

One of my favorite moments of Harry's anger in the series is everything to do with Sirius when he thinks he's guilty:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness

(PoA, Ch11)

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill. [...] “NO YOU DON’T!” roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned — “Get out of the way!” he shouted at Ron and Hermione. They didn’t need telling twice. [...] Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black’s heart. “Going to kill me, Harry?” he whispered. Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black’s chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black’s left eye and his nose was bleeding. “You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

(PoA, Ch17)

This is the first occurrence we see Harry in a true rage. The kind of anger that pushes him to act impulsively and violently. Harry actually screams in rage.

It's not unreasonable, he thinks Sirius betrayed his parents, these same parents Harry never really got the chance to mourn. But Harry doesn't really shout when angry, he's quiet in his anger usually. But here he actually roars out. He demands Ron and Hermione move from his way, he kicks Crookchanks and goes to kill Sirius. Harry is acting completely from anger without really thinking or realizing what he's doing. This is the kind of rage where you see red and don't really know what you're doing until you're doing it.

I love how he describes it: "coursing through Harry like poison". It's just such a visceral description for a very visceral emotion. This isn't Harry's usual anger, this is rage, this is beyond his usual anger. It's the type of anger most fans associate with him because of OotP. This uncontrolled rage that pushes him to be impulsive is a trauma response. It comes up when Harry is at an emotional low. When there's too much, when he feels to many things and he can't handle them all so he lashes out in anger.

In this case, Harry is facing the man he believes sold out his parents, who trusted him, of course, he's angry and betrayed. Of course, it's different from the anger he feels when Snape is being a dick. It is different. It's rage, and grief, and fear, and pain, and it's a cry for help.

Harry has an impressive capacity to bottle up his emotions, but from book 3, we see him teetering on the threshold. And it just gets worse from here (like his experiences in the books).

Goblet of Fire:

GoF is a rough year, and Harry is very angry throughout this year. Still, we see his usual "cold anger" not his rage. He's angry inside his head, we see it, but he doesn't act out on any of it, nor does he even say anything about it. He's bottling it all up. If we weren't reading his thoughts, we probably wouldn't have these gems of anger:

Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room. Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter ” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

(GoF, Ch20)

Harry spends a good chunk of GoF wishing he could curse Snape, other students, and even Ron occasionally. He feels helpless and that makes him angry. But he doesn't actually curse anyone. He doesn't even sass Snape in the above example, he just glares.

But you'll notice, again, the way he handles his anger/other issues is not really about mastering the emotion and letting it go. No, Harry just holds that anger in. He never learned to let it go, so all the times, his anger came off as cold and chill to others; it's because Harry's keeping a lid on things. By GoF, Harry can barely keep the cap on:

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments. “Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?” “Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?” “Hey — Harry!” “Yeah, that’s right!” Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. “I’ve just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I’m just off to do a bit more. . . .” “No — it was just — you dropped your quill.” It was Cho. Harry felt the color rising in his face.

(GoF, Ch19)

And so we get scenes like the above. Harry is walking around like a powder keg waiting to explode. He has been bottling his frustration and anger all his life, he comes off as chill not because he manages it well but because he hides it. He makes his voice steady and quiet because it's what he learned at the Dursleys, but it's not that the anger disappears, he holds onto all of it. That's why the worse the situation is, the worse Harry's anger is. He doesn't have the capacity to push it all down.

And this is why he occasionally starts blowing up in GoF. The more helpless and frustrated he is, the more his bottle is filled and he just can't handle it beyond a certain point.

Order of the Pheonix:

OotP is Harry at his angriest. If I wanted to copy all the qoutes from this book that show Harry's anger, I'd probably have to copy the whole book. As it is, I've hand-picked a few examples:

“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT — WHO SAVED THE SORCERER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?” Every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off on top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads. “WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!” [...] Harry was not sure his anger had abated yet; but his thirst for information was now overcoming his urge to keep shouting. He sank onto the bed opposite the others.

(OotP, Ch4)

There are two aspects I want to note about his anger here. Harry, as I mentioned above, even when he is mad at Ron and Hermione, he usually doesn't shout at them like this. This is Harry way past his threshold, traumatized with no idea how to handle any of the emotions he's feeling. Ron and Hermione are getting the brunt of that bottle exploding here.

And Harry has a good reason to be angry with them here, don't get me wrong. Harry usually has really good reasons to be angry. I'm just noting that he would have held back his anger if he wasn't in the worst emotional state we've seen from him up to this point. If he had the capacity in his bottle of emotions, Ron and Hermione wouldn't even know he was upset with them.

The other thing I want to bring up is the second section from the above quote. After Harry lets out a bit of the steam he's been building up for years by this point he swallows it down and caps it again because he wants information. He's still angry, he's still upset, but he holds his tongue to get information. He still doesn't feel free or capable of explaining why he's feeling what he's feeling. A lot of it isn't just anger at Ron and Hermione. It's everything. And he has no idea how to parse what he's feeling.

Like I mentioned in the past, Harry doesn't like showing weakness, he doesn't tend to act emotionally or rashly because he knows how people see it. But he isn't actually letting go of all that anger, he lets it build up:

“Harry?” said Hermione tentatively. “Well done,” said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and still not looking at her. “Brilliant. Prefect. Great.” “Thanks,” said Hermione. “Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They’ll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —” “Yeah, no problem,” said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. “Take her!”

(OotP, Ch9)

And up.

He just keeps pushing his anger down. If Sirius hadn't noticed and told him that he and James weren't prefects either, Harry would've kept stewing in it. Because he wouldn't have told Ron and Hermione he was jealous because he doesn't really tell anyone shit. He just lets it build:

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. “Can’t you give it a rest?” he said. “You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” And abandoning his shepherd’s pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there. He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students hurrying toward lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him, and the vision of Ron and Hermione’s shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right, he thought. Why can’t they give it a rest? . . . Bickering all the time . . . It’s enough to drive anyone up the wall. . . .

(OotP, Ch12)

And keeps snapping at everyone becouse he doesn't have a handle on his emotions. He doesn't really process what he's gone through/going through and he's lashing out.

Harry's anger in OotP is the powder keg blowing. It's why he's more rash, more vocal, actually screaming at people in a way he hasn't before. It's why we see him lose control of himself in anger more than before:

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO !” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

Because he reached his limit of how much he can bottle up and he has no healthy means of letting any of it out. The D.A. helped a little as a distraction, it helped him feel less helpless, but he only just addressed the traumatic experience he had in the graveyard by talking about it when more just kept getting piled up onto him.

“Harry — no!” cried Lupin, but Harry had already ripped his arm from Lupin’s slackened grip. “SHE KILLED SIRIUS!” bellowed Harry. “SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!”….. [...] Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. [...] “Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. “You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won’t hurt me for long — I’ll show you how it is done, shall I? I’ll give you a lesson —”

(OotP, Ch36)

Running after Bellatrix was an impulsive decision. It's that same rage that overtook Harry to kick Crokshanks and try to kill Sirius. It's that seeing red sort of rage that encompasses everything. Grief overflowing Harry's emotional bottle and all he knows how to react with — is anger.

Harry, as I mentioned in the past, doesn't cry in front of others. He doesn't let himself. and the emotions gotta get out somehow. For Harry, that somehow is anger.

Half-Blood Prince:

After Sirius' death, Harry is much rawer. He basically starts this book beyond his threshold.

“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor,” roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, “leave now, please!”

(HBP, Ch11)

So he gets annoyed more easily. He lashes out and shouts more often. He tries to physically attack more often too:

“Another ten points from Gryffindor,” said Snape. “I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room.” “No!” whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry’s arm as he opened his mouth furiously. “There’s no point, you’ll just end up in detention again, leave it!”

(HBP, Ch21)

Something he didn't do up until OotP and even then rarely. Harry is hot-headed not because he's easy to anger (again, his capacity for bottling up is impressive if he just seriously started lashing out in GoF), most of his grievances are reasonable, he's hot-headed becouse he's suffering and has no idea how to handle it.

“Just now!” said Harry, who was refraining from yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, he could not stop himself. “AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!” Breathing hard as though he was fighting, Harry turned away from Dumbledore, who still had not moved a muscle, and paced up and down the study, rubbing his knuckles in his hand and exercising every last bit of restraint to prevent himself knocking things over. He wanted to rage and storm at Dumbledore, but he also wanted to go with him to try and destroy the Horcrux; he wanted to tell him that he was a foolish old man for trusting Snape, but he was terrified that Dumbledore would not take him along unless he mastered his anger. ... “Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Please listen to me.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Again, he snaps and shouts way more than before. And he knows he shouldn't, he knows it comes off bad and people take him less seriously when he's angry and lashing out, but he can't help it as much since he still hasn't started letting go. He's still at his threshold all throughout HBP.

It's why we see him react the way he does after Snape kills Dumbledore, too. He was so angry all year. Since Sirius died, he's been running on fumes. The keg already blew in fifth year, and it didn't help him at all while he's barely holding himself together (but no one else sees this). And then, he had more pushed onto him after he already had less than zero capacity to deal with things.

Deathly Hallows:

Much of the anger we see from Harry in this book is due to either the locket or the Horcrux in him, but I'm not counting that sort of anger. I want to focus on Harry's anger.

The grief that had possessed him since Dumbledore’s death felt different now. The accusations he had heard from Muriel at the wedding seemed to have nested in his brain like diseased things, infecting his memories of the wizard he had idolized. Could Dumbledore have let such things happen? Had he been like Dudley, content to watch neglect and abuse as long as it did not affect him? Could he have turned his back on a sister who was being imprisoned and hidden? Harry thought of Godric’s Hollow, of graves Dumbledore had never mentioned there; he thought of mysterious objects left without explanation in Dumbledore’s will, and resentment swelled in the darkness. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him? Why hadn’t he explained? Had Dumbledore actually cared about Harry at all? Or had Harry been nothing more than a tool to be polished and honed, but not trusted, never confided in? Harry could not stand lying there with nothing but bitter thoughts for company. Desperate for something to do, for distraction, he slipped out of his sleeping bag, picked up his wand, and crept out of the room.

(DH, Ch10)

Harry's feelings of grief over Dumbledore are interwind with betrayal, helplessness, and feeling lost in general, and he feels all of it as anger. As I mentioned above, anger is Harry's go-to emotion when he's grieving, when he's in pain, when he feels too much and has no idea what to do with any of it — it lands him in anger.

It's a big part of why he reads as so angry with Dumbledore throughout the book. He has complicated feelings about the man, feelings he has no idea how to even start to unpack, so he feels angry.

In DH too, we see him more easily agitated than in the first 4 books. Harry is way past his limit in this book, but he tries so hard not to show it. To keep that lid on (nevermind that it exploded two years ago).

“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors—a coward.” Lupin drew his wand so fast that Harry had barely reached for his own; there was a loud bang and he felt himself flying backward as if punched; as he slammed into the kitchen wall and slid to the floor, he glimpsed the tail of Lupin’s cloak disappearing around the door. “Remus, Remus, come back!” Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond. A moment later they heard the front door slam. “Harry!” wailed Hermione. “How could you?” “It was easy,” said Harry. He stood up; he could feel a lump swelling where his head had hit the wall. He was still so full of anger he was shaking. “Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped at Hermione. “Don’t you start on her!” snarked Ron. “No—no—we mustn’t fight!” said Hermione, launching herself between them.

(DH, Ch11)

He's shaking from anger. His voice is calm and quiet like his usual response for hiding his anger, but he can't fully hide it. His body gives him away becouse he feels so much of it.

Harry was 100% right to call Lupin out, but I think the ruler way he did it was because he's suffering. He's in emotional turmoil, and twisting his words like a knife, in a way he knew would hurt Lupin, made him feel a little better. It let him take some of that anger out. It is a form of lashing out.

Him snapping at Hermione after and being ready to fist fight Ron is an extension of this lashing out. Harry, when at his limit, lashes out in anger becouse it's all he really knows how.

(He needs a better grieving method. He needs a fucking hug and for someone to tell him he's allowed to cry. He needs a good cry. I think it's why he's calmer after going to Godric's Hallow. He cried a little, grieved his parents, truly, for the first time in his life, and it helped him let some of his pain out in a healthier way)

“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.” And he spat in her face. Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(DH, Ch30)

Still, things just keep getting added onto his plate. How I see Harry's anger is why I don't think the above scene is out of character for him. His anger fueling the curse isn't just about Amycus spiting at McGonagall. It's about how they tortured Neville, Ginny, and Luna. About his year on the run. About Dobby's death. About him being forced into a position he feels he wants ready for and has no idea what to do. This is years of feeling angry and helpless coming to ahead.

Amycus didn't suffer just for that one crime of his. Spitting on McGonagall just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

To Summerise:

Harry isn't really good at managing his anger, or any other emotion really. He bottles it all up. His frustration, fear, grief, anger, helplessness, and pain all go together into Harry's little box of feelings so he can do whatever he needs to do and appear calm and quiet. It's why we see Harry fuming and boiling with rage inside his head while he's externally calm and cold and composed.

This lid he keeps on everything starts breaking as the emotions keep getting bottled up and he keeps not really processing them. So in GoF Harry is teetering on his very impressive threshold and then, after the graveyard, he breaks.

He suffered so much all at once and then was left alone to stew at the Dursleys for a whole month, suffering from nightmares and having no idea how to process any of what he's been through. Of course, he fucking breaks in OotP.

And when Harry breaks, all these emotions he kept down come out as anger. The reason he reacts so dramatically to smaller offenses post-OotP isn't that he's easy to anger, he really isn't. It's just that he has accumulated pain and grief from 14 years of trauma and abuse that are just now being let out in the form of Harry angrily lashing out.

So, I wouldn't say his anger management is amazing, but his problem isn't really the anger itself, it's emotional regulation in general. He needs to learn to deal with his emotions instead of bottling them up. If he does, he probably won't have any issues with anger management and would just sass his way through life.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #anonymous #hollowedtheory #harry james potter #harry potter meta #my best boy hjp #character analysis #hp thoughts

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