#hp feels

I was reading through Stiefvater’s blog post about her health struggles, specifically thinking about the mentions of the rather predictable fandom response to the resulting errors in The Raven King, her absences from touring, etc. I was thinking about how fandom– and online culture in general– tends to catastrophize, assume the worst of people but specifically creators. Naturally, that’s if we’re not idolizing our faves. Maybe you can’t have one without the other, I’m not sure.

Even when I agree in principle– for ex, about queerbaiting issues– in the end I disagree when the discussion frequently turns to intent. Some people do talk about queerbaiting regardless of creator intent, but that’s a touchy topic and a difficult balance to strike, isn’t it? If you’re upset, you want to blame someone. And if you see something wrong, the default assumption (even if it’s a reasoning error) is that it’s intentional. No one thinks to imagine the thing that irritates or hurts them is just a largely meaningless accident, let alone a result of totally unrelated personal issues like with Stiefvater. Surely it’s got to be related, people reason. Surely it’s about you.

However, the fact is, 95% of the time, I’m guessing it’s not, in fact, about you, or me, or us (or even them). It’s about the creator(s) and whatever their needs, desires and personal issues are. So yeah, I’m guessing most creators don’t do anything either for or against fandom, most of the time. Is that an ugly truth, or just boring?

Sometimes creators want to keep you in suspense. That does happen. JK Rowling and Moffat, for example, are both fans of playing with fans’ minds in that way. But it’s not personal. It’s a part of the performance, rather. In the case of shocking plot reveals, your shock as the audience is part of the theater of it all. Actually, this kind of audience manipulation is probably as old as stories. I’d imagine Shakespeare must have been a fan of the shocking reveal/reversal where possible. Romeo and Juliet is full of that sort of thing. And that play really plays with the audience, too. I only imagine it was limited by the fact that it wasn’t a long-term serial. Alas.

Anyway, back to the point. Anytime someone assumes the creator(s) are out to get you (or us) just for kicks and/or for some even more nefarious reason, I’d take a step back and indulge in some healthy skepticism. Not that I expect this to happen anytime soon, alas.

bookshop:

earlgreytea68:

rnotherseries:

rnotherseries:

“frenemies” is a really good character dynamic actually

like it’s SUPER funny as a concept but also. it brings up this dilemma of “this person is my number one rival and i’ve made it my goal to defeat them etc etc but at the same time we’ve been doing this shit for so long that it’s become a part of our daily routine and neither of us really wants it to end because it’s so much fun and if one of us were to succeed in besting the other it would be devastating on both ends because we’ve formed this sort of bond and we give meaning to each other’s lives and oh shit i think we’re friends”. fuck dude that’s good shit

@bookshop

Truly the best collection of tags. i remain astonished that “frenemies to lovers” STILL has not been marked as a common tag since I wrote this fic 2 years ago ahaha

ladyamina:

lizardcookie:

Minerva McGonagall purses her lips and shakes her head. The course work is laden with shield charms and hexes and poisons, so unlike the Hogwarts she attended years ago.

We are training children to be soldiers, she thinks, but she carries on anyway.

James Potter sits in front of her, telling her that he’s turned down Puddlemere United and will turn down the next three offers he’s sure to receive. Mr. Potter, we’ve worked on your Chaser prospects since your Fourth Year–

It’s okay, Professor. There’s more noble things for a Pureblood to pursue than the World Cup.

It’s with a heavy heart that she marks “No Prospects” on his career trajectory report. That is not how James Potter should be remembered.

Lily Evans asks for combat training and ways to apply Transfiguration to more practical offensive and defensive techniques. Yes of course, Miss Evans, but we’re here for career advice–

It’s okay, Professor. You don’t have to lie to me. No one will hire a Mudblood anymore and I don’t want to waste your time. But I really do need those techniques, if you don’t mind.

Minerva McGonagall purses her lips and wipes tears from her eyes as she marks Lily’s report.

We are training children to be soldiers, she thinks, and she is right.

The transition from stone corridors to burning muggle villages is too easy. Each trap that James and Sirius set for Filch was child’s play, mere practice for the traps they now set for Death Eaters and, at times, Voldemort himself. Remus and Peter were already accustomed to playing lookout– they do the same now, only the stakes are higher than detention.

Lily Evans is screaming, her hands keeping pressure to the spot on James Potter’s side that grows darker with red by the second. Sirius Black reaches them before she has the chance to and lifts James onto his shoulders, running out of the thick of battle with what she can only hope isn’t James’ corpse. The next curses that Lily Evans sends out her wand next are bright green, and her two targets don’t get up.

Minerva McGonagall wipes her brow, catching her breath behind a fallen wall before rushing towards the nearest Death Eater.

We have trained children to be soldiers, she knows, and she doesn’t think she can bare the truth much longer.

Remus Lupin accepts the rags he’s forced to wear underground now. Peter Pettigrew won’t stargaze like he used to for fear that he’ll be the first to spot a Dark Mark. Sirius Black is bored without James Potter, but James is hidden somewhere with Lily Potter and they haven’t been seen for months.

We have trained children to die, she thinks, and she prays that she is wrong.

It’s November 1, 1981 and Minerva McGonagall stares straight ahead, watching. Waiting. Everyone is celebrating and no one seems to realize that children have died.

She sees the baby for the first time and he is alive, scarred but alive, despite all odds. But no one else seems to realize that children have died. Children she taught and trained and fought beside have died and she feels complicit in their slaughter.

Minerva McGonagall remembers the children who have died. She remembers the students who didn’t return from summer break, the students who simply stop showing up to class, and the students who fall to the Dark Arts somewhere along the way. She remembers the students who graduate and forego the lives they deserve in order to prevent other children from dying. These are the children who are too young at eleven to be exposed to fear and are too young at twenty-one to be left for death, and these are the children whom she has helped raise.

She attends the funeral and her only comfort is that there are only two coffins, not three. Peter Pettigrew is dead, but there is no body to bury. Sirius Black is in Azkaban but deserves to be dead. Remus Lupin is alive, but you’d never be able to tell that from the look in his eye.

We have trained children to be soldiers, she knows. We have trained children to die, she thinks, and she is right.

I am in so much pain