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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 7 months

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Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.

#haldir #haldir x reader #haldir x you #lotr #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fan fiction #haldir of lorien #tolkien fanfiction

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6esiree · 15 days

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Hazbin Hotel x GN! Reader Who Makes a Group Chat

Summary: The title is pretty self-explanatory, but basically the reader, who is Gen Z, makes a group chat for everybody in the hotel. I used that episode where they’re doing trust exercises (but I changed it to bonding to be more fitting). I also accidentally made it a little bit of Husk x Reader…but I guess it’s mostly implied?

Warnings: Uhh, swearing.

—————

Bonding—one of the most difficult obstacles Charlie had yet to overcome. While she got along with everybody just fine, trusting them from the moment they set foot in the Hazbin Hotel, nobody else could seem to do the same, especially as their personalities constantly clashed with each other.

When it came to you, well, you were actually a pleasant person to be around with. If anybody had anything bad to say about you, it would probably be the way you acted, which was rather…different than what they were accustomed to. I mean, you were one of the newest and youngest residents in the hotel, having just died a few months ago at the whopping age of 21. Could they really blame you?

Exhibit A:

“Gay son or thot daughter?” You asked Husk after finishing your second cocktail, innocently swinging your legs back and forth as you anticipated his response.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough, dollface,” Husk said, withdrawing the paw that held the cocktail he had just whipped up for you, leaving you pouting.

Exhibit B:

“Iron deficiency gang stand up,” You said as you quickly got up from the couch, your knees instantly buckling underneath you. “Oh SHIT!”

“Fucking hell!” Angel Dust screeched, catching you before your face could meet the ground.

Exhibit C:

“Sometimes I fill the room with negative energy because I don’t want to be there,” You said as you stood next to Alastor, trying to get along with the smiling man.

“Alright, I’m off to Cannibal Town! I believe Rosie needed something,” Alastor quickly announced before walking out.

Yeah, you were definitely something else, but that’s exactly why Charlie liked you. Even though she and the rest struggled to understand your humor or some of the things you said in general, it was nice to have you around.

So, when it came to overcoming the lack of bonding among the Hazbin Hotel’s residents, the Princess of Hell turned to you, especially after Angel Dust decided to bring all of you to try out bondage…of all the fucking things.

“Hey, Y/N—Oh, oh my goodness,” Charlie winced as a sinner approached her, trying to entice her by dangling some fuzzy handcuffs in front of her face. “No thank you! Sorry. Anyway, uh, I was wondering if you had any ideas to bring everyone together? Something less…like this?”

You stood in front of Husk, who had sought refuge behind you after Niffty appeared next to him with a whip in her hand, excited to punish some “bad boys.” Not like you could do much to conceal him, especially considering that you were about Vaggie’s height, but the little demon did avoid you after you took pity on a roach and threw it out the hotel, sparing it from her wrath.

“Really? Oh, shit! Okay, um, let me think for a moment,” You said, happy that she had asked you to suggest something, “Errr, you know what always helped me get closer to people? A group chat. I know it sounds kind of stupid, but like, I think it would be a nice way for us to slowly get to know each other!”

“Oh, yes! Okay, sure, we can try that out!” Charlie gasped, clasping her hands together, but then she frowned, “Wait, what about Alastor? He won’t be able to participate since he doesn’t use a phone.”

“Doesn’t seem like a problem to me,” Husk spoke up, obviously content with the idea of the Radio Demon being absent from one thing in his life.

“I mean, he’s not even here right now,” You shrugged, agreeing with Husk, who shot you a thankful smile, “I’m pretty sure he’d say no anyway.”

Charlie sighed, but you were right. Alastor avoided technology like the plague, especially Voxtech. He wouldn’t be able to join a group chat even if he had a flip phone—which he definitely didn’t.

“I guess you have a point,” Charlie said, already starting towards the exit of this place, “Alright, let’s get out of here. Come on!”

“Booooo! You guys are boring,” Angel Dust said, dragging Niffty with him, who was the only one sad about leaving. “Except for Niffty, of course. She gets it.”

Back at the hotel, all of you sat in the parlor, exchanging phone numbers with each other. Creating a group chat was supposed to be a simple task, but for some damn reason, y’all were struggling. Sir Pentious forgot his phone number, so you had to help him out with that, and Niffty kept getting side-tracked every time a roach appeared before she could take out her phone.

Everyone else did just fine, thankfully, Husk even handing you his phone to avoid the hassle—which was on light mode (gross). Anyway, big mistake on his part because you decided to take 0.5 photos of yourself when he wasn’t looking, setting one as his lock screen. You tried not to laugh as you handed the cat-demon his phone back, leaving it unlocked so he wouldn’t notice right away.

“Okay, soooo, there! Done,” You said, successfully adding everybody to a group chat on SMS.

“Who said hello? I cannot tell,” Sir Pentious asked as soon as you sent a message.

“Damnit, Pentious. Hand me your phone again,” You said, getting up and taking a seat next to the serpent so you could show him how to name each of his contacts.

“Look, if you tap here then go to info, you’ll be able to name your contacts,” You demonstrated, Pentious staring at you blankly, “But I guess I’ll do it myself, just to be quicker.”

After that, everything was good. The only one who doubted a group chat would work was Vaggie, but as the days passed by, she realized it was much easier to communicate that way. Charlie was having a blast, reacting to every message that was sent with a heart, Pentious used emojis like the precious little man he was, Angel usually sent links from Sinstagram and Envee that he found funny, Husk responded sometimes, but with the most dry texts known to mankind, and Niffty, well, she forgot there was a group chat. Whenever she was reminded of its existence, however, she just sent pictures of the bugs she killed. You always reacted with a sad face.

“Can you stop saying “Congratulations” and “Happy Birthday”,” Vaggie announced as she descended the stairs alongside Charlie, looking at you specifically.

“Why are you glaring at me? I’m not the one spamming it!” You said, turning around to see Angel snickering on the couch, confetti and balloons popping up every time any one of you opened the group chat.

“Yeah, but you taught him how to do it!” Vaggie grumbled.

“Come on, Vaggie, it’s not their fault,” Charlie said, looking at you apologetically before disappearing to the kitchen to get breakfast.

“See? Charlie said I’m not at fault,” You said, but she didn’t back down.

“Uh-huh.”

“For real, though, I didn’t think he’d abuse it. Would you have, Husk?” You turned to the cat-demon in hopes that he would defend you too.

“I ain’t helping you until you show me how to change my lock screen,” Husk grunted, his phone lighting up every time Angel sent a new message, the 0.5 photo of your face popping up.

“Okay, then! That’s fine,” You shrugged, Husk rolling his eyes in response. “I can take care of myself.”

“If you really wanted to change it, you would have searched it up,” Angel said from the parlor, setting down his phone much to Vaggie’s delight. “Just admit you like looking at their face, kitty.”

Husk growled, the bottle of cheap booze in his hand slightly cracking in his grip. Vaggie couldn’t be bothered to intervene, disappearing to the kitchen as well.

“Call me kitty one more time and I’ll jam this bottle down your throat,” Husk threatened, but Angel only laughed in response.

“Sure, whatever,” Angel said, shooting you two a wink as he got up from the couch and stretched, looking down at his phone as it vibrated, “I’d argue with ya more on that, but Val’s calling. Maybe we can continue this conversation after work.”

“Hey! Well, apparently you like looking at me too, because your lock screen has been my face all along,” You said with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah, I would have noticed—” Angel said as he looked down at his phone, turning it off and on, “Wait, what the fuck? How—WHEN DID YOU DO THIS?”

“I have my ways,” You shrugged, Husk chuckling as Angel stormed out of the hotel mumbling in disbelief, fixing to change his lock screen.

There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you when the front doors of the Hazbin Hotel closed behind the spider, the only sound bouncing off the walls being the clanging of plates and utensils in the kitchen. You had already eaten earlier, so you stayed at the bar, enjoying the cat-demon’s presence.

“You’re something else, y’know,” Husk suddenly said, looking at you as he languidly sipped at his drink.

“I know,” You laughed, reaching for his phone, “Here, let me change your lock screen for you.”

A paw landed on your hand, catching you off guard. You looked up at Husk, wondering why he had stopped you.

“If I wanted to change it, I would have,” Husk said, his claws lightly dragging along your skin as he withdrew his phone from your grasp. “I ain’t stupid.”

Oh, man. Your face was suddenly hot.

“I, uh, I didn’t think—” You started, Husk quirking a brow at you. “You know what? Shut up!”

“You alright, dollface?” Husk asked.

His tail swished back and forth behind him, causing small drafts of wind to caress your ankles. Husk was obviously amused by how easily he had flustered you—the slick fuck. No longer wanting to satisfy him, you decided to be your usual self.

“Yes, I’m alright! But are you?” You shot back, Husk blinking in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Clearly you’re not because your phone is on light mode,” You continued, “That’s absolutely disgusting.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk #angel dust #charlie morningstar #vaggie #sir pentious #niffty #alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel niffty

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yellowocaballero · 4 months

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Omg hi Ms. Yellow Caballero big fan of your work <3 For real though, I'm really excited that your sharing the Weekenders, it was a joy to read and I'm bongocat-ing now that others also get the privilege to read it as well.

Referencing your tags, would you please elaborate of ableism in fandom and, like you said, how fandom treats characters with unpalatable disabilities?

Hi Ms. Bud Lite I'm a big fan of you <3

TL;DR A fear of writing characters of highly marginalized identities shields you from criticism and discomfort, but it's actively stigmatizing to people of these identities and as a writer you really need to get over yourself and write The Icky People.

I guess I'll come out swinging on this one and say that fandom doesn't like severe mental illness. (As a note, when I say severe mental illness (SMI) I mean illnesses such as psychotic disorders, bipolar disorder, substance use disorders, personality disorders, etc)

Obviously, nobody likes people w/SMI. It's just insanely egregious in fandom to me, since fanfic writers absolutely love writing characters or HC characters with depression, anxiety, or a specific variety of PTSD That Isn't Scary. People actively reject any character HCs for a SMI. When people write a character with SMI, they nicely downplay it, ignore it, substitute it for a disorder they like better, or rewrite it. It's completely untolerated, in both headcanons and in fanfiction, and every time I bring it up I always get the most interesting reasons why somebody couldn't possibly acknowledge a character's SMI in their writing. I've heard all of these:

"I don't know enough about the disorder to write it accurately." Do research.

"I'm not X, so I can't really depict it." You probably aren't a cis white man, but you depict those guys just fine.

"It feels insulting to the character." There is no shame in having a SMI.

"I can't understand what it's like, so it's better to be cautious and avoid giving characters stigmatized identities." There are LOTS of experiences that you'll never understand because you've never had them - you just don't want to write anything you're uncomfortable with. People with SMI make you uncomfortable, and you don't want to write anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, or think of a comfort character in an uncomfortable way. SMIs are marginalized differently than solely depression/anxiety/The Nice PTSD, and by refusing to write them you're actively contributing to the stigma.

I think (?) I've spoken in the past about how I believe that the rigorous external and internal policing of writing people of marginalized identities is actively harmful towards efforts to increase diversity of experience and background in fiction. A lot of fanfiction writers are just terrified to write people who they can't directly relate with, because they're worried 'they'll get it wrong' and be Big Cancelled. I think this is negative enough when it prevents people from going outside of their comfort zone, but on a macro level I think this results in people refusing to write characters of marginalized identities as all. It's an insidious thought process, and it's reflected in people's unwillingness to diversity their writing or acknowledge canon diversity.

'Well, I don't understand what it's like to be Black, so I don't want to write Black people'. 'I want to project on this character, so I only want to write them with mental illnesses and identities I have'. 'If I write a marginalized character incorrectly people will yell at me, so I won't write a marginalized character who's marginalized differently than me at all'. Can you imagine writing a lesbian character with a boyfriend because 'you feel uncomfortable writing lesbian experiences'? It's blatantly homophobic. But people do that with disability and race/ethnicity ALL THE TIME.

People with SMI notice that you feel uncomfortable with them. It's obvious. They notice when a character has a SMI + anxiety, and you only write their anxiety. They notice when a character displays symptoms of a SMI in canon, but you write it out. And POC notice when the characters of color are written out. I know we all like to project on the blorbos and relate to them, and in the joys of your own head do whatever, but as a writer if you only stick to identities you're comfortable with you are actively being a worse writer. Which to me is the REAL sin lmfao.

#my asks #thanks for enabling me lizzy if i didn't get this out i would have just vagued for the rest of time #even just beyond all of this on a more subtle lvl. HC people with SMI cowards. just do it. its good for you.#the two times me/a close friend have proposed on a fandom server "hey I read X as having a SUD/being on the schizophrenic spectrum'#there was actual fascinating pushback and rejection #people got MAD.#'blorbo wouldn't be an alcoholic he's not a bad person :(' fuck off #i dont use the word often but its ableism and you can be mentally ill and still ableist #if you dont feel educated enough on something to write it then do research #and while research wont give you everything it's a start #if you feel like you can only write people just like you then frankly? skill issue #i mentioned that the last fic was a bit of a spite fic - well #it was scientifically fascinating how the majority of a fandom wrote/acknowledged a character as depressed and anxious #but actively got incredibly defensive when someone suggested that the psychotic character may have had a psychotic disorder #it was so blatant. very annoying. anyway.

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sneeperspoi · 10 months

Text

One of my favourite aspects about Sniper and Spy's relationship (platonic or romantic) is how they both have a mutual understanding of like, quiet time and what it's like to genuinely feel this certain flavour of solitude:

Sniper has a lot of his work done completely alone; hiding, playing the waiting game, and all that jazz, while Spy has a somewhat similar experience. Sure, his espionage lifestyle has a more active role at times, but his job still requires maintaining distance (physical and emotional) from both clients and targets. Both are dedicated to their work enough that they'd avoid getting genuinely personal with people altogether— even if they wanted to, they know it'd negatively impact their abilities to perform. Sniper having the mindset of having "a plan to kill everyone you meet" and to just "take the shot", and Spy being described as a "puzzle, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in riddles" is telling of how much of a wall either can put up and any given time.

Now, I'm not saying that the other mercs don't know what it's like to be isolated or that they could never relate to Sniper or Spy in that regard, but their roles aren't necessarily fundamentally built around it, y'know? They aren't required to hide away or to work solo (you could make the joke of "then why are there always 5+ snipers and spies on my team at any given time??" but shhhh this is more in the context of the lore/comics lolol).

I feel like this concept of them realizing their niche similarities and how "hey, maybe I'm not really alone in this world" has so much potential. Like... the idea of them not really participating often in team activities or usually hiding away (in a van and smoking room perhaps?) is great, but to add on the angle that they now have someone who finally understands?? To finally have someone that you don't have to explain anything to?? It hits differently. They could have a smoke together, not saying a word the whole time, and consider it a successful hangout— they don't expect anything from the other, or feel the pressure to act differently because they just get it, and know why things are the way they are.

There's so much angst potential too, forbidden friends/lovers who both know the consequences if things go sour. Maybe they've suppressed so much of that desire to have a relationship (platonic or romantic), that when they finally admit that this is the case (realizing they both feel the same way), something clicks and they try to make it work. Don't even get me started on the potential "hey, maybe I can trust you" aspects either lmao. Regardless of what direction you take though, their relationship growing feels special and unique.

The media too often depicts the whole "can't get close to no one. I don't need friends" attitude as mostly negative and something that needs to be fixed... but with these guys, they're just allowed to be like this. Not saying that there are no cons to this attitude ofc, but it's not necessarily a thing they have to change about themselves or each other or anything. I guess it's refreshing to see that there are still characters out there who can be loners and just be content about it. Unless of course, you want to go down that route. Love that type of angst, but it's nice to have that option without it feeling too OOC. Ugh, there's like so much to explore and deconstruct and so many directions to take this fr fr

((Also, I realize now it's kinda like being an art kid and that moment when you finally meet someone where you don't have to explain why you keep drawing the same old soggy men who shoot each other cuz they just understand. Artist to artist communication lol))

#As always this isn't the only to interpret them!!!#I've seen some amazing stuff where they both despise each other for their differences and never relate #I've seen stuff where they switch this dynamic up (i.e. Sniper is a social butterfly or Spy is like the bossy leader)#and both are valid!#Hope this rambling does make sense though #literally been thinking about it all week haha.#ALSO may or may not be one of the aspects I've been exploring in my own fic #sniperspy #sniper tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 headcanons #meramblings #mefanficy

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Text

MANCHESTER NIGHT TWO

prompt: Harry is having his ‘adjustment day’ and everyone has to suffer with him

word count: 7k+

warnings: smut, blood, minors dni 18+

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

*thanks to @ladylazarus98 and @fallon-carrington123 for inspo 😙

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story

As stated before, like clockwork, a couple dates into tour - Harry gets crabby beyond belief.

It’s been happening since the Up All Night Tour.

Give it just a few shows until his body starts to catch up and then he has to get back into the routine which takes some adjustment.

He’s also hasn’t had a stage this big for his tour since One Direction days and now he has a whole stadium to prance around in.

Tour means drastically less sleep, a thousand more pounds of pressure on his shoulders each day, extreme amounts of exhaustion from his actual show, and less time for anything but performing.

Harry has always managed to juggle all these things pretty well except for his sporadic bouts of crabbiness and just overall poor mood.

YN had been used to those for every tour, just waiting for the day to hit, sometimes it was the second tour day and then other times it was the seventh.

It turns out to be his fourth, if you’re including his set at the summer ball in wembley stadium.

Last night, Harry had been so utterly drained from his performance in his hometown that they hadn’t done anything but go to sleep after the show with very little spoken because he was still so overstimulated from everything that day.

YN is up earlier than him which is unusual, he definitely wasn’t fancying a workout after that show last night, he deserved a lay in.

They were staying with Anne, not the same home Harry grew up in but still warm and cozy - with many touches of mum that she knew he missed.

Anne is out to breakfast with a group of her friends, the house is quiet as YN fixes herself a cup of chai tea and sits on a chaise that over looks the well maintained garden.

Nearly an hour later, YN hears slow, heavy footsteps from behind her then a graveling grumbling, “Morning.”

YN already knew, just by the greeting that today was the day but she always had hope that she was wrong though she rarely ever is.

When she turns to look over her shoulder, she sees her husband in just his briefs, hair going every which way, and his face is still puffy from sleep - he looked adorable.

“Come have a cuddle,” YN offers, patting the spot next to her, normally, he would have curled right in next to her and they would have stayed there for a long while.

Harry’s face twists up before he’s shaking his head, “Don’t want a cuddle, I want a coffee. My mum doesn’t have the bloody oat creamer I need. Now I’m shit out of luck, I guess.”

YN wants to roll her eyes at him because the pout on his face is absolutely ridiculous and the way his shoulders are tensed up is dramatic.

“Well, we can go to the market and get some,” YN suggests the obvious option even though she really didn’t want to go through Harry being noticed out in public.

There wasn’t much time before Harry would have to be at the stadium which is still about forty-five minutes away from his mum’s house.

“Fine,” Harry huffs out before turning on his heel to go get dressed, feet still heavy and irritated as they drag against the hardwood floors.

YN knew by now not to personalize it, not to get her feelings hurt because that only made it worse - she tried to avoid any type of confrontation on these days because feeding into the negativity is what he wants - wants others to be in a foul mood like he is.

He returns back downstairs in a low-key outfit of a hoodie, running shorts, and tennis shoes with a beanie and sunglasses - people knew he was in the area, they were going to be on the lookout for him.

YN was already dressed in a pleasing hoodie and leggings, pulling her own hood up and slipping on a pair of sunglasses as well.

Harry’s quiet during the ride into town, his hand on her thigh but he doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t push him - he can get so overwhelmed and overstimulated that it can take a whole day for him to reset.

They’re in the small market, in the dairy aisle, and find a similar enough container of oat creamer that he can use for his coffee.

“Do you think I have enough time for a nap-“ Harry begins to ask quietly as they walk out of the shop after checking out but is cut off by screams.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry mutters under his breath as he noticed a large flock of fans that had formed outside while they were shopping.

Harry doesn’t stop for any pictures, tries his best to acknowledge the fans without stopping to greet them because he just doesn’t have the energy for it.

Despite his grumpiness, he’s always a good husband, pulling YN close to his side as he begins to try to nicely push his way through the group of screaming fans.

“Bloody eight in the morning,” Harry hisses in irritation as they get jostled around by the mass of pushing bodies.

YN feels a sharp pain shoot through her Achilles when someone accidentally steps on the back of her heel with their heavy combat boot.

“Ow! Harry,” YN gasps in surprise as she pauses where she’s standing and squeezing her eyes shut as she tries not to panic - it can get overwhelming so fast.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Harry asks urgently in concern, eyes hardening when he sees the back of her foot bleeding from a scrape - it wasn’t serious but it was preventable and looked like it hurt like hell.

Harry manages to keep a level head but his voice is loud and booming, “Everyone needs to step back. You just made my wife bleed. Give her space for Christ’s sake!”

He’s not yelling but it’s firm enough that everyone takes a step back with surprised eyes at his tone that he rarely ever used with the public.

Harry wraps his arm tightly around YN’s shoulder as he hustles them towards the car, quick as he whips open her door and helps her in - blood pooling in her sandal as it drips.

When he revs up the engine of his Range Rover, the crowd steps back a bit to give him space to peel out of the car park, he’s shaking his head angrily as he goes well over double the speed limit.

He’s quiet again, getting a good bit of distance between them and the market before he’s pulling over at a small empty playground and shoving it into park before he’s out of the car once again.

Harry is opening her door and gently reaching for her ankle, brows furrowed and an angry grimace on his face that highlight the dark circles under his eyes.

“What happened?” He asks as he examines the cut with careful movements, thumb caressing her ankle bone.

“Someone was too close behind me, stepped on my heel with their boot,” YN yelps when he prods at the sensitive skin around the wound and tries to yank her foot away but he grips it firmly.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes roughly as he steps away to open to boot of the car - scrounging around until he comes back with a water bottle and one of his clean tee shirts from the cleaners which he picked up yesterday, “This might sting a bit.”

YN’s hand grips the handle on the door and squeezing when he begins to pour water over the cut and wipe the dirt from the shoe away with his shirt.

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as hurt.

Harry then rips the shirt, without a care that it was an expensive cotton tee from Alessandro himself, and wraps it around her ankle in a makeshift wrap.

YN leans forward after he’s done, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissing him softly despite how stiff he is, he kisses back.

“Thank you, best husband,” She murmurs against his lips but he actually scoffs and takes a step back, a stormy expression still on his face.

“Yeah, really the best husband,” He frowns, pouring the water over his dirty hands before drying them with a scrap of the shirt, “If I was a good husband, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt or put in the position in the first place.”

His words were sharp, disappointed in himself as he shuts her door and gets back in the driver’s seat, grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

By the time they get home, YN is frustrated that Harry doesn’t have enough time to lay back down for a nap because sleep exhaustion was not fun.

She really really didn’t want him going out on stage when he was this tired, he always felt frustrated with his performance afterwards which just made everything spiral.

Harry isn’t under the same impression because when they get home, YN is busy cleaning up her foot and telling Anne what happened.

He disappears upstairs, YN assumes to get his items together to take to the stadium but she gets distracted with Anne and the cats.

It isn’t until the shiny black SUV pulls in to chauffeur them that YN realizes that she hasn’t seen Harry in about half an hour.

When she trails up to the bedroom they’re staying in, she sees him fast asleep ontop of the covers, he hadn’t even taken his tennis shoes off he was that deprived of sleep.

YN felt awful when she had to sit next to him on the bed and gently rub her hand over his chest, whispering, “H, need you to get up.”

It reminded her of his One Direction days.

They were so overworked.

All the boys ran in less than five hours of sleep and were expected to work every moment they were awake.

From recording to interviews to having cameras for documentaries shoved in their faces every other minute - they were constantly spread thin.

They were tucked away in a tiny tour bunk on top, the curtains drawn and they were both fast asleep with Harry’s nose buried in her neck.

After concerts lately, the team had been making the boys stay up even later to record for their next album - no care for how much they just wanted to go to sleep.

When Harry would finally crawl into the bunk, after a concert and then two hours of studio time, it would be two in the morning.

He would be asleep in a minute flat, YN could barely get a goodnight or I love you in before he was nuzzling into her and snoring.

It was like that tonight, they had just performed in Paris and it was an unusually hot night on stage - the heat had Harry’s hair matted to his neck where it fell out of his bun.

The heat always made it harder on their bodies to perform, running around that massive stage, and on a running timer of little sleep.

When Harry had ran off stage after the finale of Best Song Ever, he’s grabbing YN’s hand and rasping, “Just want to shower with you and sleep for days. C’mon before they try to grab me to record.”

They find him, however, before he can get onto the tour bus, and demand that he come record the chorus for Fireproof.

“Just want a shower and to sleep. Is it that much to ask for?” Harry grumbles unhappily before giving YN a kiss and pat to her bum, “I’ll miss you. I’ll try not to wake you when I get in.”

He always did. But it was okay.

It was nearly three hours later when Harry is crawling up the ladder and pushing the curtain back so he can slide into the bunk next to her before pulling the fabric back in place.

He smelled good of his normal eucalyptus body wash and mint shampoo, he was still a little damp like he didn’t want to towel off, and he was just in his briefs as he nestled in next to her.

“Mmm,” YN hums drowsily, acknowledging him as she wiggles back into him and sighing happily when he wraps his arm around her and kisses the nape of her neck.

“Sorry for waking you,” Harry whispers sleepily, planting a few more kisses along her neck and shoulders.

“What time is it?” She mumbles half- asleep still as she helps him pull the blankets over his body too.

“About four in the morning,” He tells her before being interrupted with a yawn as he begins it’s his head on the same pillow as her.

YN vaguely remembers huffing out that it was too late and that he needed sleep but by the time those syrupy words rolled off her tongue, Harry was already dead to the world.

Not much time could have passed before fluorescent light is infiltrating their little nest and a deep voice is announcing, “Time to get up.”

YN squints the light away, grabbing blindly at her phone to check the time.

“It’s six on the morning, Paul. Harry just got into bed at four,” She tells him through a groan, her boyfriend hadn’t even stirred yet.

“Don’t know what to tell you. They have a jammed packed day, no wiggle room. Harry, wake up,” Paul’s voice is louder this time before he’s pulling open the curtains to everyone else’s bunks.

YN knows Harry’s awake when he inhales sharply before taking a lazy, long breath out - lips smacking together against the skin of her neck.

She brings her hand to card through his long lock, nearly to his shoulders. They’re fluffy and soft from his shower the night before.

“I’m so tired,” Harry mumbles sleepily, eyes still shut as he nuzzles further into her body, “I feel like m’gonna die if I keep running on two hours of sleep every night.”

“I hate seeing you this exhausted,” YN replies sadly, massaging his scalp for a moment longer before Paul’s making his rounds to make sure they’re out of bed.

Harry still looked like that same sleepy boy right now as he sniffles and digs his face further into the pillow in resistance.

“H, the car’s here already,” YN tells him, letting her hand drift down the warm muscle of his tattooed bicep and forearm.

His eyes blink open harshly, pausing to process for a moment before he’s grunting, “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? Only been asleep for a minute and now we have to go. Bloody ridiculous.”

YN rolls her eyes as he pushes himself off the bed with a irate grumble, he begins shoving stuff in his tote bag, and cursing to himself.

She knows by now not to take it personal, to not argue because it only makes things worse. Sometimes that’s easier said than done but not when it comes to little things like this.

When YN goes to hike her own duffle over her shoulder, Harry hip bumps her, and lugs it over his own - like she said, even when he’s grumpy he’s an amazing husband.

“See you at the stadium in a few hours,” YN tells Anne, giving her a kiss on the cheek and allowing her to wrap her in a motherly hug

“Bye mum,” Harry says bluntly, giving her a wave before he’s stepping up into the car and shutting the door.

Anne looks at YN with a confused expression, taken aback by the curt behavior of her son.

YN waves her hand dismissively, “It’s not you. I think today’s his adjustment day.”

That’s what they all referred to it as.

“Well, it’s definitely his adjustment day,” YN scoffs in agitation as she slams shut the dressing room door and heads out to where the rest of the band is hanging out, “Date six this time.”

The boys chuckle because they know exactly what she’s talking about by their third tour, he’s just like clockwork.

A few minutes later, Harry admerges in his tight black skinny jeans, loose button-up, and a headscarf holding his curls back.

“Where’s YN?” He demands when he doesn’t see her anywhere in the vicinity.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been a douche at soundcheck and we’d tell you,” Louis shrugs, not bothering to look up from the video game he's playing with Zayn.

“You can go fuck yourself,” Harry snaps instantly, jaw clenching as he storms past his bandmates who just ignore him anyways.

He was normally the kindest, least problematic out of all of them so they’d let his bad days slide more easily than with each other.

YN is currently pouring herself a glass of fresh squeezed mango juice from the Kraft service table when Harry finds her.

“You know I love you,” Harry murmurs quietly as he steps behind her, she can feel him pressing up against her.

“I would hope so,” She replies with a chuckle, taking a sip before saying, “If not, we just wasted quite a few years.”

“Are you mad at me?” He pushes, ignoring the dirty look she gives him when he takes the cup out of her hand and swigs down the juice she’d just poured - he reaches around her to refill it.

“No,” YN sighs as she takes the glass back, leaning back into him, “Just hated days when you’re like this. It’s hard for me to watch. You just get worn so thin and get so mentally tired that it makes me sad to see you get pushed so much.”

“It’ll get better, in a few years, when I’m on my own,” Harry promises as he leans in to kiss her temple, hands squeezing her hips, “If I ever get the chance to do a solo tour.”

Oh, would he.

A sold out stadium tour to be exact.

And he wasn’t lying, when he went solo things did get a lot better.

He wasn’t spread as thin as ice constantly, everyday of the year but maybe now half the year - only when he’s touring or promoting but he definitely had a bit more down time for self-care.

It was the back-to-back concerts, like Glasgow, Capital Ball, Manchester night one, and now night two before Wembley, she was so proud she could burst at the seams.

Harry had been just a moody during soundcheck, a frown etching his lips downward as he kept an annoyed expression on his face.

“S’too loud.”

“I say it’s too loud so you turn the volume up?”

“Okay. Why is it suddenly becoming difficult to get this right? We’ve done it a million times before.”

Fans idealized who Harry is as a person.

That’s not saying that he isn’t wonderful and kind but he is human, this is the side YN gets too which is part of being in a marriage - the good and the bad.

People blog about how perfect their relationship must be, how Harry must bring her flowers in bed everyday, and never get cross with her.

Harry Styles the brand isn’t the same as Harry Styles the person.

Most people get the brand, very few get the person.

YN feels bad as she watches the audio techs scramble to make it right, bickering between each other as they fumble with the buttons and switches.

The soundcheck was already running too close to showtime which YN knows has Harry on edge, the fans will be let in almost as soon as they’re done - he’ll have to start getting ready.

—

“Hey!” YN squeaks, giggling quietly as she looks around the hallway, “Harry, you don’t have much time before you have to go on stage!”

“Shush up and let me kiss you before the boys find us,” Harry leans in, connecting their lips as he’s pushing her back against the wall.

“Oi! Styles, get your arse to the stage! What did I tell you about distracting him?” Preston barks at them as he’s trying to taper down a smile by putting his hands on hips like he means business.

Harry grumbles as he gives her one more kiss before bumping their noses together, “Want to go get pizza after the show?”

“Isn’t as easy as before. Now you need security and approval,” YN murmurs but there’s no heat behind the words, “I’d love to get pizza later.”

She reaches up to adjust his bandana, he looks like a frat boy with his golden dark tan, black cut-off tank, and ripped skinny jeans.

“Styles! I mean it! Now!”

“Bloody hell! M’coming!” Harry shouts back before flipping him the bird.

Harry picks a fight with Harry Lambert about his outfit, complaining about nothing and refusing any replacement item.

Everyone already knows he’s going to wear what was originally planned but he has to complain that the zipper was too flimsy or the shirt didn’t mesh with the shoes.

He didn’t want the three other shirt options and so he goes back to the original but debates over his shoes for nearly twenty minutes.

Lambert looks like he wants to strangle him by the time it’s over.

Usually, Harry would slip into his clothes with any issue as they planned these outfits in advance and Harry had specifically approved every single one.

YN isn’t in the room when Jeff chews Harry out about how he acted today at the grocery store, how he should have stopped and taken pictures, and signed autographs.

She misses that Harry had just told his best friend and manager to fuck off and leave him alone, to not come near him at all, and mind his own business.

YN had been sat with Anthony Pham as he clicked through pictures from the night before on his laptop, he landed on an action shot of Harry jumping up the few stairs when he was going crazy during ‘Satellite’.

She had meant to warn Harry to be careful about doing that and he had just happened to be storming out of his dressing room when she looks up.

“H, baby,” YN calls, unsure of where he was heading but he stops in his tracks and meets her gaze with a tight jaw.

“What?” Flat. Blunt.

“Anthony was just showing me some pictures from last night. Please be careful when you jump those stairs. It might drizzle and if you slip, you’re really going to get hurt,” YN tells him softly, it wasn’t pestering or nagging - it was because she cared and thought she’d remind him.

His face pinches up even more as he listens before he’s booming out, “I’m not a fucking baby. I don’t need to be told that. S’my show and I’ll do what I want.”

YN takes a deep breath, steadying herself so that she doesn’t match his negative energy but inside, she’s absolutely livid with him.

“You’re right, Harry. It is all your show, popstar. You do what you want,” YN scoffs as the angry rising up in her chest before she’s giving Anthony a pat on the shoulder before she’s walking away the from the situation.

Popstar.

When YN used it, it was an insult. It was to highlight how spoiled or egocentric he was being. Every time she says it in that context, it triggers him.

“I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m saying no and it’s final,” Harry huffs firmly, sitting on the couch in their first London flat.

“You promised me last week that you would come with us, H. Everyone’s expecting you and I want you to come as well,” YN bites back as she stands at their kitchen counter.

“No. It was leaked that I was back in London. Everyone knows I’m here. I’m not going out to just be bombarded with fans and paparazzi tonight. I’m not doing it after a three week long press tour for This Is Us.”

“Fine,” YN mutters, slamming her cup down a little harsher than necessary, “It’s much more important than what I want. Right, popstar?”

“That’s not what I said! You bloody know that I hate when you call me that!” Harry raises his voice, running a hand through his curls.

“Then stop acting like a spoiled little popstar!” YN retorts hotly, she logically knew she was the one being a little over dramatic - she just had not liked his tone.

His face instantly turns into a deeper scowl when he hears it, his teeth gritting together as he stares intently at her back before following after her.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Harry demands lowly as he takes strides behind her, “M’not being a popstar, I just don’t need mothered.”

YN spins on her heel, crossing her arms, “I’ve been plenty plenty patient with you today. My patience has run out. You need to adjust your attitude or you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Rather that anyways,” Harry hisses brattily, kissing the back of his teeth - YN can see straight through the rough guy act.

Anyone else would be intimidated by his broad shoulders, stoney glare, and clenched jaw but not her, not one bit, she doesn’t back down.

“Don’t come crying to me when you hurt yourself on stage,” She shrugs casually before shaking her head in disbelief at his overall attitude today.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry rumbles back before he’s storming off, back towards his dressing room before he’s swinging open the door and slamming it shut.

YN has to chuckle because even on his worst days, like today, he’s just a little brat but never gets to the point where YN feels anything but a mixture of annoyance and fondness.

YN inhales deeply to let the annoyance flow out of her body as she walks towards Harry Lambert to get her outfit for the show.

It was a simple light washed gucci jumpsuit, the denim was the same color as the denim that made up Harry’s overalls. ***

(imagine them in the same color denim as Harry’s)

YN was planning on a cute pair of mule heels but with the cut on the back of her ankle, she figured she better go for something more comfortable.

She decided to just keep on her slides, she was going to stay off to the side of the stage tonight - about halfway through the show Anne and everyone else would join her.

It’s nearing showtime when YN realizes she hasn’t seen Harry in a hot minute as she sees Jeff storming down the hallway - near red in the face.

“What’s going on?” YN questions with concern as she sees Harry jogging down the long corridor towards the stage.

“He fell asleep and now he’s pissed that he only has five minutes until showtime,” His manager huffs before he’s mumbling an update on his walkie.

“Maybe if somebody fuckin’ woke me up!” Harry complains boisterously as he’s tucking his ear pieces into and hustling towards the stage where he now has less than a minute until showtime.

He’s too distracted by being rushed to the stage by the crew for YN to wish him luck or anything like that but YN finds a storage box to sit on - on side stage.

She can feel the camera flashes not only on Harry but on her as well, it was always awkward to remember that people would film her watching Harry and post it as well.

The show is going fine, Harry seems to be a little more subdued than the night before but overall he always manages to put on a great performance and his fans won’t be able to tell.

Towards the end of the show, a light drizzle begins to fall and coat the stage - making it slippery and what YN had warned against.

As Harry is going crazy during Satellite, he starts jogging backwards down the long catwalk before turning quickly to jump up onto the platform - skipping the three steps.

YN’s heart drops when she sees his face twist into grimace before he’s covering his expression with a forced smile again.

He hadn’t tripped or tumbled over but he most definitely had landed funny on his ankle, just like YN had ‘mothered’ him about.

It must be bothering him because he does not jump around nor does he run for the rest of the show, babying that foot.

YN’s first reaction is to be furious with him, she told him this would happen and he was in such a poor mood that he got angry instead and ended up hurting himself.

She wants to scream ‘I told you so’ as soon as he steps off the stage but she not going to make the situation even worse than it already was.

After the show, all of their friends and family who attended were supposed to go out to eat at a restaurant Jeff had paid out to have for the night.

However when Harry jogs off stage gingerly before slowing to a slow walk as soon as he’s out of the eye line of fans.

YN is waiting for him like always, feels a bit of warmness when he comes to her, dipping down to kiss her before pulling back and murmuring, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” YN murmurs, thumbing a stray curl off his damp forehead, “You going to go shower before we head out to The River’ Edge?”

Harry’s face turns stormy for the hundredth time of the day, he shakes his head adamantly as he straightens back up, “No, m’not going. I just want to go back home.”

YN already knows why but still prompts, “Why?”

“Why? Because I just bloody did a show for nearly eighty thousand people and I want to relax, not entertain fifty more,” Harry huffs like it’s obvious, crossing his arms and pouting out his bottom lip.

She’s actually relieved that he doesn’t want to go because she know his attitude wouldn’t have been any better there and this miserable day would have just dragged on.

YN’s heel was still hurting, the skin tender and sore, and she didn’t feel like walking anymore tonight either but the only thing she was worried about was Jeff.

He wasn’t going to be happy that Harry wasn’t attending his own party.

“Go get out of your stage clothes and I’ll go tell Jeff that we’re going to head home,” YN reaches up and rubs at his shoulder before turning to find his manager.

“Okay,” Harry grumbles before stalking off towards his dressing room, it was amazing what a mask he could put on when he has to for his job.

When YN finds Jeff and pulls him aside, he’s just as livid as expected and his patience is minimal based on his argument with Harry earlier.

“Why can’t anyone fucking listen to me?” Jeff shouts in frustration, he seems to have already had a few drinks in his system.

“Can you not control your husband for a fucking minute?”

“We’ve had this planned for months! There’s no reason to cancel.”

As Jeff continues to rant, YN is speechless as she’s being screamed at for something she didn’t even do but she was guilty by association because Harry was her husband.

However, Jeff becomes eerily silent suddenly as YN feels familiar hands grip her hips and pull her back into the strong, muscular chest of her husband.

“I know for a fact, you weren’t just raising your voice at my wife,” Harry states in an unsettlingly calm tone as he moves to step in front of her.

Jeff looks guilty as he glances between the couple.

Then Harry’s voice raises in volume, startling YN with the deep bravado that rumbles from deep within his chest, “I said I know you’re not raising your voice at my wife. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry,” Jeff relents with a sigh, raising his hands in surrender, “I just am frustrated that the party -“

“I don’t need to hear your excuses,” Harry cuts in, moving his hand to intertwine with YN’s as he begins to pull her away, “Don’t let me catch you talking to her like that ever again or there will be major, major problems. Understand?”

Jeff nods, embarrassed by everyone around them staring at the spectacle as Harry directs YN down the hall towards the exit of the stadium where there’s a car waiting.

They don’t speak during the walk, Harry stills spun tight and his shoulders are tensed up as he ignores all the crew ogling him with excitement and amazement.

In the SUV, Harry kicks off his sneakers which he typically doesn’t do so YN takes that as another sign that his ankle is bothering him.

Harry is the biggest baby when he’s hurt usually.

He wants to be cuddled, soothed, and wants YN’s full attention at all times (which isn’t very different from everyday for them).

But he’s stubborn and grumpy as all get out.

He goes easily when YN wraps her hand gently around his neck and directs him until he’s laying across the backseat with her nails scratching at his scalp as he blinks heavily, trying to stay awake.

The ride’s not even an hour but Harry drifts off after only a few minutes after the car pulls out of the stadium lot.

He’s groggy as YN unlocks the front door to Anne’s house and leads him up the stairs where he disappears into the bathroom to shower.

YN disappears downstairs to scrounge through the freezer until she’s grabbing a solid bag of frozen peas and pouring herself a glass of water, as well as one for him with a few pain reliever pills.

When she enters back into their room, she changes out of her denim outfit and into a cute pajama set because she didn’t want to sleep in her underwear at her mother-in-law's house. ***

Harry comes out soon after, not one for long showers when he’s sleepy and has just a tight pair of briefs on as he rubs his eyes. ***

“C’mere,” YN pats the space next to her on the bed then grabs the cold bag of vegetables.

“What are those for?” Harry grumps as he subtly limps to the bed and plops down heavily right up against her.

“For the ankle you hurt on stage,” YN raises her eyebrow at him before nodding down to where it’s swollen and bruising.

“I didn’t,” He argues instantly, defensive with his hackles up and knitted brows, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re imagining shit.”

“Mmm, must be,” YN replies nonchalantly, tossing the bag back onto the bedside table and acting like she’s wriggling down to get ready for bed - refusing to give into his antics.

Harry grunts and grumbles for a few minutes, turning and squirming because he does want YN to baby him and he’s fighting against himself.

YN is faced away from him, trying to taper down her smile when he finally relents after a painful day of attitude, “Want you to ice my ankle, baby.”

She flips to her other side before sitting back up, biting the inside of her cheek and shaking her head fondly, she loved her overly worked, exhausted husband so fucking much.

“Yeah?” YN hums softly, welcoming Harry when he leans over and nuzzles into her throat, “Ready to let me take care of you?”

“M’sorry,” Harry whispers against her skin, lips brushing against her pulse point, “I never get better at dealing with my adjustments to tour.”

“Been like this since you’ve been sixteen,” YN tells him as she directs Harry to move until his foot is in her lap and she’s wrapping a dish towel around the bag and pressing it to his ankle.

“Think I just landed funny, hopefully it will feel better in the morning,” Harry frowns, hissing at the cold touch before relaxing against it.

“Hopefully,” YN repeats as she keeps it pressed there, her thumb rubbing at his skin in soothing circles to calm him.

Harry pauses for a moment before acknowledging, “You were right, shouldn’t have been jumping ‘round like that when it was wet. Will you forgive me for acting like a prat today?”

“I forgive you every time,” YN giggles with a shake of her head, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you put a ring on it.”

“We’re twenty eight now. Don’t regret letting me wife you up at nineteen?” Harry’s voice has taken a deeper rasp, he’s totally using his sex voice right now because despite how tired or injured he is - he will still try to get it in.

“Never for a moment. Got to marry the famous Harry Styles, breaking new records with every album, fat bank account. It’s working out alright,” YN teases coyly, goosebumps decorating her skin as Harry’s gaze gets more directed and intense.

“Yeah? Just married me for my money and fame?” Harry rumbles, leaning down to toss the bag of peas on the floor.

“And your big cock,” She smirks as her eyes drop to where he’s noticeably hardening and filling out the thin fabric, pushing against it to make more room.

“Always been a fan of that, hm? Never complain, exact opposite actually. Constantly begging for, for me to fill you up just right,” Harry’s fully turning himself on at this point as he grips the bottom of her sleep shirt.

She smacks his hands off, “Think you can act like an utter brat all day and still get the goods?”

“Said M’sorry,” Harry bites back, persistent as he reaches out again and YN lets him pull it over her head, her bare chest revealed, “Plus, s’your wifely duty. Be a nice little thing and let me ‘ave you.”

Those words shouldn’t make her as wet as they do.

“Should make you just make me come and not let you,” YN gasps as he ducks down, puffy lips wrapping around her nipple and pulling it into his mouth.

He pulls back for a moment, a cocky smirk on his face as he says, “We both know m’coming tonight. Let it drip out of you.”

“H,” YN whines at his filthy words as he bits at her nipples as he’s shimmying her shorts and panties off her hips in one fluid motion.

It’s not how she saw their night ending but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

There’s not any preamble because even though he’s horny, he’s tired, and doesn’t have the energy to go at it for hours.

He slips in with no resistance, moaning loudly into her mouth as he begins a steady, harsh rhythm that hits her spot every odd stroke and his thumb is tight on her clit to make sure she falls off the edge with him.

It’s only mere minutes after they finish that Harry is snoring softly into her neck, while body wrapped around hers - thigh swung over her legs, arm across her tummy.

It’s something that never gets old to her.

There’s millions and millions of people who adore Harry, they want in every way imagineable, they make it known by coming to his concerts in swarms.

People have been obsessed with him since he was sixteen.

But despite all that, Harry never changes.

He craves attention but he needs it the most from his wife. He lives for being able to snuggle and hang all over her at all times. He needs her to be there to take care of him and tell him he’s doing a good job

He’ll always just be Harry to her.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

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WIBTA if I told my dad's girlfriend about his Tinder? He doesn't use it when they're dating, only when they argue.

i (21 NB, closeted as F) currently live alone with my dad (57 M) while I study in college. My dad has been dating this person (52 F) for about 10 years. They met through work and started dating when I was around 12. They say they get along well, but they argue often, and have broken up multiple times in the past. They do not live together because her family dislikes my dad, including his girlfriend's children (20 and 15 year olds). I also have a bad relationship with him. He does provide good quality food, supplies, and shelter, and does favors (according to him) like cooking or not nagging me for staying up late to study.

The reasons I don't like him is because we share next to no political opinions, he constantly engages in toxic behavior such as harassing people over tiktok where he spends most of his free time, and holds really misogynistic opinions, such as that women should not talk to men unless they intend to engage sexually or romantically with them. He is also very racist (which is bad bc part of my family is indigenous!!) homophobic (i am closeted to him, he doesnt even know i had a girlfriend while my mother does), transphobic, and ableist (he has joked about doing harm or killing autistic children I worked with, has called my half-sibling with an ID a black sheep "jokingly", and i suspect i am autistic myself, to top it off).... These all probably sound like valid reasons to hate him. I just state them to be clear that I do have a negative bias. The only reason I don't rebel is because I want to study without many disturbances and,. He is just a pain in the ass and stressful to be around, but not actively harmful. He also denies every claim I make about him when I do call him out, so i have to confirm with my brother or bystanders to know I'm not making these things up)

Ok so. facts: Every time he breaks up with his girlfriend, he vents it all to me while they stay apart for a few weeks because he doesn't have other people to vent to. So, whenever they break up, he installs Tinder, matches with random women (he does not look at their profiles and just accept everything until a match happens), then shows me their photos to make fun of them. He usually does nothing serious about those relationships, except the one time he held a long distance relationship with a woman in a different country for a few months in 2018 and he expected me to advise him on that while the original girlfriend was making efforts for them to get back together.

I have talked to the girlfriend about my own problems with him and she validates them too. She is a sweet woman, but really non-confrontational. She insists that the two of them get along well, that he does respect her and love her a lot when they're together and she does want to be with him long term, but struggles because her children and family really don't like my dad and avoid him when he visits. I really do not think she deserves such a prick and if she doesn't know he uses dating apps when they break up then... I think she should know, so she can choose what to do about him.

I really DO wanna tell her, but I am afraid of the consequences for her and me for snitching, and while I dislike my dad for well established reasons, I do still need to rely on him, which is why i don't intend to give this info away. I guess more than anything I just want validation in disliking him and whether making this move would be too far. I'm willing to wait until graduating next year to pull it off from a safer distance.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mattphobiia · 2 months

Text

OPPOSITES ATTRACT.

this was now the beginning of my second year in university and although i knew the layout of the place well, everything felt more terrifying. i know that this isn't like shitty high school where everyone thrives off the drama created but i won't lie, these people are adults but seem more immature and worse than your average student in a school. there was this guy called chris sturniolo and we definitely had some heated arguments that nearly turned into physical fights and it didn't help that i was best friend's with his brothers, nick and matt. i adored them both but i had a stronger connection with matt due to the fact we both were awkward as fuck along with our matching crippling anxiety. i felt like i could tell him anything and he would never judge, but it wasn't one of those romantic crush scenarios. we were strictly best friends and we both liked it that way!

i await outside my porch, waiting to see that familiar car matt had always driven until i see it, making my nerves calm down for a minute until i saw that stupid face of chris, and my mood was brought back down again. i sigh, rolling my eyes in annoyance as i began to approach the car, slipping into the backseat with nick as we all began to talk, apart from chris. i mean, i did feel his cold stare dig holes through me through the rearview mirror but i make an effort to ignore it. so what if he didn't like me? matt and nick did, and i only wanted to talk to them anyway. unlike chris, i had way more in common with them both regarding hobbies and interests. for example, matt and i hated going to parties and loud events while chris seemed to live off that shit. none of us had ever smoked, apart from chris. chris was your typical "bad influence" friend, but he looked good doing it. yeah i hated him, but i guess he was attractive. it was mainly the hair doing it for me, his personality is definitely ugly as fuck, which made me giggle thinking about it.

"why the fuck are you laughing to yourself? goddamm weirdo." chris mutters, looking back at me with the dirtiest expression i had ever seen, which made my heart beat with anger.

"because i can. now turn around and stop looking at me with such a dirty face, clean your grubby ass up before talking to me." i reply proudly, chris only rolling his eyes before slumping back into the car seat while matt and nick chuckled to themselves.

matt finally pulled up into the parking lot, all of us procrastinating getting out of the car after a long enjoyed break from this shit hole. i keep my distance with chris, standing close to matt as our arms slightly touched together while we walked, it was our way of reassurance, a small intimate act like this definitely calmed us both down for the better. we began to approach the announcement board only to see that there was a lecture in the hall basically recapping our last year before we broke up, and i sighed with embarrassment. the university always had this tradition of sharing all of the students positive and negative feedback we get on our behaviour, whether it be fights, chatting unnecessary shit, or just anything embarrassing in the hopes to stop students from misbehaving but it never worked.

after the humiliating recap lecture of all of the students behavioural issues, matt and i sat in our secret area that barely anyone knew existed, chris and nate sat on the other side trying to avoid me. chris obviously would tell nate about me and how he seemed to hate me. nate was a nice guy but he tried his best to avoid me for chris' sake.

i lean my head against matt's shoulder, peering down at his phone screen while i watched him scroll through tiktok, like usual. chris always used the fact that since we were this close we may as well date, but it honestly wasn't like that. we just felt like we were siblings, and we would never date. i made that very clear to chris, but he still always found a way to make my blood boil even if he was just sneaking a smug glance at me.

chris and nate were mainly just talking about skating after they had finished their course work and getting high, but i wasn't surprised. i always wanted to learn how to use a skateboard, but always felt like i could never because i knew damn well chris would rather push me off a cliff than do anything like that with me. i mean, nate probably would but i couldn't be bothered to deal with him especially because of his bossy attitude. matt knew how to skate and would probably teach me if i asked, but he never really done it anymore as he already owned a car, while nick... is just nick. he would probably start screaming as he would go down on a ramp and fall flat on his face, which that would be funny.

"stop staring at me weirdo." chris shouts over at me, making me jolt upwards in confusion. turns out while i was zoned out, i was just admiring chris the whole time, fuck.

"shut up, whiny ass bitch." i reply, rolling my eyes in response as i lean my head back down onto matt, who was now playing a mobile game, not paying attention to his surroundings.

"i am not whiny, your annoying ass voice is though." he states, beginning to smirk as he bit the side of his cheek trying to hide his smile.

"at least i don’t have an ugly tattoo." i sneer, pointing at one of his tattoos on his left forearm, making him look down in disapproval.

"whatever, maybe get some tattoos to hide that boring personality like matt." he says, matt's head immediately snapping upwards with the mention of his name, glaring at chris before he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to nate who was chuckling at our interaction.

"ignore him." matt whispers, making me turn my head to him before nodding in response, leaning my head back against him. "he's only just trying to fuck around with you, don't let him win."

"i know, hes just... so fucking annoying." i huff, he only laughed while he lifted his arms, motioning for me to lay my head on his lap. "how do you cope with him?"

"he's my brother, first of all. but sometimes i do want to smash his face with a frying pan. he is a literal chatting machine." he says dramatically, the both of us beginning to laugh heavily while both boys looked over at us like we were fucking crazy.

i had just about survived all these long ass lectures, somehow matt and i being halfway across the classroom which made us both feel uneasy, but also having chris right behind me. i could tell he was staring me down and i hated it, but i managed. according to some girl called brittany, theres a party being hosted nearby and everyone was invited. when i told matt, i immediately knew his answer when chris just had to persuade him to go last minute, but i knew that i wouldn't want him to go through it alone. when chris says "he'll be by his side", he means that matt would just be alone in the corner while chris was getting absolute shitfaced and there was no way i would let him do that.

"well, if matt is going then so am i. you're just going to get wasted the whole time and leave matt feeling awkward. fuck that." i add, slowly stroking matt's arm before giving him a warm smile, which made him feel safe.

"whatever, go be with your little boyfriend like a clingy little loser." chris rolls his eyes in disgust, walking off as he slams the door shut to his room.

"for fucks sake, why does chris always think we are dating?" i shout angrily, leaning my head into his chest as he pulls me into a soft hug.

"he's jealous of our bond. hes just a fuck boy who loves to hurts everyone while i actually care about you. no, i dont want a relationship with you but i love you like my sister." he smirks.

"how cute, matthew." i smile, tapping the tip of his phone with my finger as he lets out a laugh. "wanna get ready now? for this stupid party?"

"i guess, i know deep down we are both dreading this." he sighs, wondering off to his room as he watched me nod before i quickly rushed into mine.

MASTERLIST / P2 , P3 , P4

a/n: this is only part 1, keep a look out for part 2🥴 LOOOL anyways work is so stressful rn so this could take awhile but i got alot of drafts atm sooo i may upload some of them:) hope all my followers enjoy these 🤗🤗🤗 also i dont rlly proof read them at all bc im lazy asf so my bad if theres any errors or if it dont make sense

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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saltydkdan · 4 months

Note

Are the JoJo's icebergs fun to work on? They look like a blast to edit and write! (If a bit of a large workload)

The Jojo Iceberg has been... interesting. On one hand yes! It has been a blast to work on in some senses! It taught me a lot about writing, and research, while also allowing me the freedom to experiment with editing and injecting my humor into scripted stuff in a more organic way. I feel like with each chunk of the series I've posted thus far, I've shown more and more confidence over time.

Plus you are right!! Once the audio editing is done, working on visual edits and gags is a blast. Sure it takes time, but I have a weird love for making smooth video edits for people to watch (even though like 50% of the people that view those videos probably just listen to em like a podcast without looking at it haha).

So that sort of stuff, yes! That's been a blast, and I've learned a TON that I'd never take back for the world!

However on the flipside, logistically this project was a nightmare from day one LOL. And this is the part where I try to dissuade anyone from EVER working on a longer project like this because god damn it's been a pain at times.

Keep in mind, the script (as it stands) is nearly 200 pages. That is the longest scripted work I've ever helped write in my entire life, and when I started I was NOT that experienced as a writer whatsoever. I'm a bit better now, but at times I still struggle.

I made the horrible decision to never put a cap on the script. For every new fact I learned, even if it wasn't a part of the original plans for the video, I would add it to the pile. No matter what it was. I was committed to making it as long as I thought it needed to be, not as long as it probably SHOULD have been to get done in a reasonable amount of time.

I did all this for a deep passion for the source material, and even after the final part comes out early this year, I plan on going back and correcting the very few mistakes or miswordings I had in the original videos when I put them all together in one MEGA video.

But that passion for Jojo is a blessing and a curse, and I hadn't realized how long a project like this would take me amidst all the other big projects like Friendlocke and HYHA.

Full disclosure, the script was first started in December of 2020. That's nearly 3-4 YEARS AGO by now. If I knew that putting all this together would take that long, I probably wouldn't have committed to it in the way that I did. In that time, I probably could have put out a TON of shorter stuff, but I was so committed to this that I just didn't and that very much hurt my channel in the long term.

Though to be real, I haven't worked on it consistently, I tend to jump on and off between projects to avoid burnout. However still, by the time it's all done, the Jojo Iceberg combined together will most likely be the longest piece of content on my channel (yes, potentially longer than Friendlocke Season 3, I estimate that it'll probably come out to around 6 hours in length if I don't cut anything down).

It's because of this that after this is all out there? I plan to NEVER tackle something this long ever again. Friendlocke and Jojo have drained my bones, and all I wanna do these days is work on shorter stuff. Though I guess in that sense, this project has really helped teach me a lot about the sort of stuff I want to make. So in a way, even the negatives have positives! There's always something you can take away with, even if your experience had some downsides.

Looking at such a long script and doing some math, it's made me realize that like... damn. I could DEFINITELY do shorter videos way more consistently in the future. And so that's what I plan to do :)

So yeah! Some positives and negatives. But overall, I learned a lot and that's all I could ever ask for.

Thanks for your question! Have a good one!

#saltydkdan #salty asks #jojos bizarre adventure

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wisteria-lodge · 23 days

Text

badger primary + rapid fire/actor bird secondary

Hi! I’ve passively loved this system for a couple of years now but it’s only now that I’ve discovered that you actually do real people sorts! Anyway, I am pretty sure of being a Snake primary, but I’ll have you be the judge of that.

My Dad is a double Snake, however, my Mum I think is a Badger/Lion and this obviously creates a lot of conflict between them. I really care about both of them and though me & dad understand each other better on a fundamental level, he can also be quite a harsh and manipulative person (he has the typical Snake secondary thing where he tells you whatever you want to hear until you get close to him or he’s exhausted enough to let the masks drop, and at that point he becomes quite harsh, which my Badger/Lion mum does NOT like, and she especially doesn’t like how “fake” he is), and my Mum always reacted very negatively to my behaving like him.

A Double Snake and and Badger Lion could easily have periods of looking very similar, and very in sync, and then just… circumstances change and they couldn’t be more different. That’s a tricky one to navigate. So you’ve got a bit of cultural negativity surrounding Snake secondary, noted.

So I kind of spent most of my life feeling torn because the two people I cared about the most had very opposing expectations of my personality

Definitely getting inklings of a Loyalist primary (Badger or Snake.)

my Mum’s love in particular felt very conditional even though she was always very supportive of all my intellectual endeavors.

I spent the first 18-ish years of my life with “saying whatever I need to get what I want” as my primary strategy in life

Definitely sounds quite Snake secondary (sounds a lot like your Dad’s Snake.)

and constructing a “cool, popular girl” personality that would give me enough social capital to get whatever I want.

Oooh, have we got some Bird secondary going on? Because this sounds like it could be Actor Bird. The very conscious way you went about building “Cool, Popular Girl” (even using words like “constructing”) and fact that this persona has a name, probably had a costume, and is purpose-built for a specific environment, not a specific person... sounds very Bird.

What I wanted, though, wasn’t anything particularly ambitious: I’m very conflict averse so I made shit up to avoid conflict.

I associate this with Snake and Bird, the two “I move” secondaries. They’re water, flowing around obstacles. Lions and oddly Badgers are far more likely to pick fights.

I wanted to be have strong “ride or die” friendships with people I could protect and who could protect me in turn (I first wrote “group of friends” but I now realize that I kind of struggle with groups of people - I just never have the feeling of being part of a group, just having ties with individual people, so I guess I want to be part of a group in the sense of having ties of affection and loyalty with several people who also have them with each other).

This is such heavily Snake primary-coded language, that I’m kinda wondering if that’s on purpose, and you’re looking for a specific answer from me… :)

However, because what I got from my mum and, quite honestly, the media I liked was basically “my personality=villain.” I tended to seek out other people perceived as “villains” as some way because I felt that they would accept me more easily.

I wish it weren’t the case, but you’re right, that’s a common thing. Especially if you’re a Double Snake or a Snake Bird, which I think are your two most likely sortings right now.

I also really hated people who treated their friends badly or arrogantly and tended to bully them

I mean that’s the human thing, but it’s definitely something that would bother a Loyalist (Snake or Badger primary) a LOT.

there was this one swotty girl who was constantly looking down at her friends and treating them badly, and I just decided to make her life living hell because I was so morally affronted by it.

I’d love to know exactly what your strategies were, because that would tell me a lot about your secondary. But there does seem to be a suggestion that there was a Mean-Girls-stye *plan* here, which kind of makes me think Bird.

Another friend also abandoned us and found another friend group where everyone was basically in love with him and he was using them for attention seeking purposes and I also reacted to this quite harshly.

“Abandon” is a very dramatic word to describe a friend [entering a slight fuckboy phase?] and switching friend groups.

The thing is, I also tended to abandon some people, which doesn’t clash well a Snake primary, I guess? One of my HS friend groups were really quite asshole-ish, and I ended up ditching them, but that was because I felt like they were treating other close people (of theirs, not mine) badly?

Okay. So here’s what I think is going on. You’re a Badger. Hear me out.

Yes, I think that your Badger looked like a Snake for a good long while. But you’re close to your Dad, and your Dad’s a Snake, and young Badgers will do that, look like authority figures or beloved people in their community. It really hurts you that your parents are not a united unit, not a community. A Snake would have an easier time just having separate relationships with each of them, even if they didn’t get along. Same thing with your friend that switched friend groups. That’s a very Badger way of looking at the situation. The Snake thing would be, well - he’s your friend, and it doesn’t really matter what group he’s him. But a Badger would want him to stay in the better group, the group that was better for him.

You hate it when people mistreat their group. You hate bullies (Captain America style.) That’s all Badger. You also talk about multiple, conflicting groups of friends, and that whole “Cool Popular Girl” - I mean, it’s not exclusive to Badger primaries, bit it is definitely a very common way for High School Badger primaries to present.

I had also decided to start taking school and stuff more seriously and I just kind of felt like their affection would be conditional on my bad bitch persona, got scared and ran? It was a long time ago, I don’t really remember.

This is Bird secondary thing. Getting “suck” in a persona, and worrying that people only like you / you only have value because of it.

The turnpoint came when I met my first serious boyfriend, who is definitely a Snake secondary but I’m honestly not sure if he’s a Snake or a Bird primary.

The so far elaborately constructed web of lies and reputation building that was my life led to the downfall of our relationship, because it combined with some external circumstances made trust difficult

You have a complicated relationship with Snake secondaries, but you yourself are a Bird. “Construction,” “reputation building,” the web metaphor… it sounds like a Bird. That’s just not how Snake secondaries think.

what I somehow got out of it was a deep fear of betrayal and abandonment

and possibly Burned your primary a little bit (probably another reason you’re picking Snake for yourself, Burnt Badgers look like Snakes.

and the impression that if I wanted people to love me and stay by my side, I should be very open about who I am (so that I’m sure that it’s me that they’re loyal to and not their personal image of me), and just try to be the kind of kind, morally upstanding person that people couldn’t fault for anything.

These are two mutually exclusive goals. If you’re totally honest and open about who you are (the Lion secondary thing) - then you will absolutely ruffle some feathers and rub people the wrong way. It’s a totally different approach than being the “kind [person] that people couldn’t fault for anything.” (Which is more of a badger thing.)

Forcing myself to act like this led to a plethora of mental health issues because being very open about who I am is just… not who I am?

You also just set yourself for failure. There is literally no way you could have achieved what you set out to achieve. And how is “forcing” yourself to act a certain way more open and genuine? It sounds like you built a Badger secondary model out of fear, and just sat in it for a while.

And it was very anxiety-inducing for me. Even now, when my mental health is much better and I’ve settled into who I am, I like showing off my playfulness and wit and keeping the rest of my personality behind a neutrally charming mask.

And that’s… good? Normal? That’s also very Bird. Just have a charming, Badger-flavored ‘customer service’ face that you wear as you go through the world. Go into Neutral when you feel comfortable. (Birds go into Neutral very much like Snakes do, but the change usually isn’t as dramatic.)

Also, my success until that point was based on a lot of improvisation and quick thinking, and while I kept that to a point, it also always led to a bunch of moral panic because in my head, being this kind of person is what gets you abandoned.

Rapid-Fire Bird. There’s a little bit of your Bird coming through here, in that you want a foundation, you don’t want to just do the Snake thing.

Anyway, I was a psychology major (I always liked understanding how people tick and how to get them to see or do what you want them to without having to explicitly argue with them or convince them)

Very Bird.

but I felt alienated with the “bleeding heart helping profession!!” people around me.

I am not at all surprised that the profession skews Badger secondary, and that it did not feel at all good being around all those Badger secondaries... when you’ve got such a messy relationship with your Badger model.

I eventually settled for doing research on children growing up in harsh circumstances who develop externalizing symptoms, but it was just because throughout my life I met a lot of people like that and a lot of my close people are “misunderstood” because they sometimes behave harshly due to their harsh upbringings, so I wanted to vindicate them in a way, as well as vindicate myself because I cared about explaining why people sometimes act less than morally and yet can still be loyal and worthy of love and not automatically “bad people”.

I love this for you. It seems like this would just fit into your primary so nicely. You’ve got a category of people, who are your people and you’re going to vindicate them, and protect them - especially from other people seeking to dehumanize them. It’s so Badger, but in that lovely universal way.

In the meanwhile, I kind of developed a Badger primary model, I guess, in that I do dedicate a lot of my time to helping people

… or you were a Badger all along…

and being kind and open and inviting

yeah, that has absolutely nothing to do with being a Badger primary. I’m serious. That’s just your neutrally-charming mask.

but whenever this is put to the test my Snake loyalties always always come first.

I honestly haven’t seen this so far. The only individuals you’ve talked about are your parents (who bothered you by not being a group, your fuckboy friend (who left the group) and your first boyfriend, who you broke up with.

And I also still always get morally outraged when people are disloyal to their close ones or treat them badly,

This your primary talking. (your why, what gets you out of bed in the morning)

whereas the general kindness and the work I put in towards making sure the world is a kinder, fairer place is just something that I do, no emotional attachment to it, and I don’t expect other people to do it at all.

This is your badger secondary model talking. (how you go about doing things, how you present to the world.) Both Badger, yes. EXTREMELY different.

I honestly don’t think a lot about morality, aside from the generic “be kind and try not to fuck people over unless you really have to”

I mean, you did just say. “I also still always get morally outraged when people are disloyal to their close ones or treat them badly.” I think you just must not consider that sort of thing… really morality, in some way. But Badgers get their morality from their group. Their highest moral good is to make sure the group is doing okay. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.

rationally constructing a system of morality or trying to arrive at some kind of internal hunch both feel kind of empty to me?

Because you’re not a Bird or Lion primary? Of course it does.

Now, as for the secondary, my knee jerk reaction is to say Bird because I’m in research, and ever since childhood I’ve always been a very logical person. I’ve eventually learned to be quite systemic in my problem solving process because I need it for research, but what I like about this career is the problem solving aspect of it, like you have a goal (for example, an effective psychosocial information or the acquisition of a certain kind of information) and you have to figure out how to get to that information. Basically the most efficient way of getting from A to B.

I make sure to be systemic and thorough and analytical because it’s the most surefire way to get things right in my line of work, but I also take pleasure in kind of categorizing and putting information in order, and connecting it along different lines. I also really care about proper methodology and not half-assing things to get the results that you want, because I think that the results that you want are the results that are accurate and useful in the real world, not the ones that make you look better.

Wait, am I a double Snake?

Okay, now you’ve got ME worried - I must have really screwed up explaining something, because how can you write something THAT bird secondary, love systems as much as you do… and arrive at the conclusion that you’re a Snake?

What I know for sure is that I absolutely do not identify with “knowledge for knowledge’s sake”, but I do have a really broad criteria for what “useful knowledge” is because I’m capable of thinking quite abstractly, so I can see the utility of almost anything.

That is very, very, very Bird. I’m starting to see the problem though. “Knowledge for knowledge’s sake” is an older phrase that owes more to the parent system than I would like, but it does essentially mean “no knowledge is wasted, the most useful way to solve problems is to preemptively hoard knowledge.”

What I am really also passionate about is presenting things in the right way. I love writing, and I love public speaking, because I get to put myself in the other person’s shoes, imagine how they will “receive” what I’m saying and then tailor my presentation or short story or whatever to lead them to the conclusion that I want them to reach. But I dislike manipulating people with this: the conclusions that I want them to reach are the ones that I personally consider accurate, not the ones that benefit me.

First thing, you sound like an absolutely incredible person, and by pretty much any metric you want to use, a *good* person. (And no, that’s not because the way you’ve written this is manipulating me. This is my little game, I’m good at it.)

What I can tell you that tailoring a presentation to an audience - that’s just a Rapid-Fire Bird who knows their stuff doing trick-shots, and I bet it’s beautiful to see. You are delivering information in a way that the audience can properly take in, because you know both your audience and your information well enough to do that, and that is incredible.

My knee-jerk reaction is always to improvise, but I feel like this makes me come off as a “fake” person if I change my mind on what I said later (I change my mind A LOT), so I try not to say what sounds good in the moment because it will bite me in the ass later and lead to a reputation of a flaky, fake person, I guess?

Not 100% sure what you mean here. Changing your mind… is just a personality trait, it doesn’t really have to do with why you do things or how you do them. I think you would call tailoring your presentations improvisation, and I really wouldn’t. It’s not improvisation, it’s just looks like improvisation because you’ve come up with a hundred different ways to say this thing, and then on the day you can pick the one that works the best. If you had to do the same thing, but not in your preferred subject matter/environment, it would be basically impossible.

But I also really pride myself on my logical and thorough assessments of situations, and I tend to like thinking things through when I get the chance for it, often postponing decisions until I’ve thought about all the eventual longterm consequences of all the courses of action I might take.

Bird.

What trips me up is my trauma-induced fixation with being “honest” and avoiding “lies”, which are more about their eventual inefficacy and worthlessness and less about their moral rightness or wrongness (and also because manipulative=bad, as my Mum spent all of my life saying). My line of thinking is, “Things built on lies or self-delusion always crash down and burn, and it is right that they do so that more stable and honest things can take place”

What are you building on lies? If anyone’s work has a solid foundation, it’s yours. And as we’ve previously discussed, even IF you were doing your mom’s brash Lion secondary thing, wouldn’t that be in a lie in itself, because it’s not your natural presentation, it’s something you need to force yourself to do?

but I also kind of use it to do shady shit - like I don’t feel morally wrong in hitting up a man in a relationship, because if he really cares about his woman the only person who’ll get burned is me and if he doesn’t I saved her the trouble of wasting more of her time on him?

This is actually a really interesting aside, because it’s you telling me how you handle a moral issue (that makes it a Primary thing.)

Is it wrong to hit on a married man? Your answer is No: either you get turned down because he’s staying faithful, and that’s your own personal risk, or he cheats, in which case he’s kind of … dehumanizing himself? And therefore you are doing his partner a favor because she can now get rid of this unhealthy member of her community. There’s a logic there, and it’s a kind of ruthless Badger primary logic.

So not sure if Snake or Badger secondary?

Bird.

P.S. After some self-reflection, I realized that I’m probably not a Bird secondary

I’m listening.

because I really hate following plans and situations where I have to rely on concrete skills and not abstract problem solving terrify me. OTOH I am very proud of my general ability to assess a situation and act appropriately.

Not sure how you’re distinguishing between “concrete skills” and “abstract problem solving.” From what you’ve been telling me, it sounds like you need the concrete skills before you can do the abstract problem solving, as in they work together.

I’m also known as the person who changes PowerPoint slides in the middle of a conference based on whoever’s speaking before her and adapting her speech accordingly, which freaks the shit out of my coworkers, so I guess any “planning” type is probably out for old me

That’s the most Rapid Fire Bird thing I ever heard. You made a plan. The PowerPoint and the speech exist. You’re just adapting them on the fly, based on previously-existing knowledge. I’m starting to think that you’re one of those Bird secondaries who is SUCH a loud Bird secondary, that it can be hard to get your head the idea that your skills are skills, and not sort of neutral abilities that everyone has.

my latent distaste towards being a Snake secondary is my burny oppressive bullshit against anything that’s not “stalwart honesty and consistency” that I’ve been imposing on myself for years.

which I really wish you didn’t feel like you had to.

Because I do love winging it and just saying whatever’s the most situationally appropriate thing regardless of how much it reflects me and I’ve just been treating any kind of play acting like a recovering alcoholic treats drink so I no longer even remember how it feels anymore lol.

I hope you find a way to play with your Actor Bird, at some point. One more little thing before I sign off though - thinking of actions as “situationally appropriate” is a very Actor Bird secondary thing to do. Snakes don’t go that big. Snakes think - what response do I want from this person, in this moment, and how do I get it? They also constantly reset. Snake secondaries have this “seducer” reputation because they generally are better one-on-one, or in small groups. Even Snake secondary actors will talk about the way they perceive the whole audience as one “person” … it’s all very interesting, but a very different way of approaching the world than the way you do.

#submission #shc #sortinghatchats #badger bird #badger primary #burnt badger primary #bird secondary #bird secondary vs snake secondary #actor bird #rapid fire bird #wisteria sorts #sortme

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