What was your relationship with HP in your childhood and what did it mean to you?

Warning: long answer is long.

I read the first HP book when I was 10. It felt like coming home. I was a deeply awkward, anxious kid dealing with bullying at school. I felt wrong and out of place and like everyone except for me had a manual for how they were supposed to navigate life; without the manual I was certain I would never catch up.

Books were a fucking haven. And THIS book. This book was about a kid that I empathized with so much. Except he's bullied and feels out of place because he IS out place. He's meant to be somewhere better, with people like him, who (for the most part) treat him kindly and with respect. And suddenly he's able to make friends and excel at his studies, and he settles into this fantastic world where he fits, and he's bright and likable and he has a purpose. It was just. God, it was everything I wanted for myself. AND there was magic and a train and a cool castle.

I think the first two books were already out when I started reading and I read the rest as they were released (re-reading them all multiple times in between). The friends I did manage to make also adored the books. I went from "playing Harry Potter" on the playground to writing fanfic to going to midnight book releases and meeting up with friends to see the movies as they started coming out. The final book came out shortly after I started high school, and the final movie came out when I was in college. I went to that midnight showing with a good portion of my friends and we all cried like babies at the end. Because it was over. This thing that had sustained us for so long. This thing that marked our childhoods.

You have to understand that Harry Potter-related expectation was a constant for the majority of my life. Since I was in elementary school there was always a new book to look forward to every year or so. And when the book series was completed, there was the next movie to look forward to. And then it was over (and with such an unsatisfying epilogue). That's when I really got involved in fandom (outside the fic I wrote amongst friends in a the group journal we kept and passed back and forth during studyhall, ofc). And fandom was the most accepting, glorious, place for an anxious queer kid just starting to come out of her shell as college afforded her the freedom to realize that maybe the very narrow (private Christian school k-12) concept of normalcy she'd been afforded until that point wasn't entirely accurate. And it continued to be glorious. I went to cons and got merch and put my House in my online dating profile and 3D printed custom HP cookie cutters and joked about having a HP themed wedding some day and my friends and I loved our nerdy little world that made us happy. Until Joanne ruined it.

And I'm honestly not trying to be dramatic, but when something has been so intrinsic to your life and your social circle and even, to an extent, part of your identify, it's fucking devastating when you find out the creator of that thing is a bigot and actively using her platform to target people you love. I stopped supporting her (buying books/movies/merch etc.) a couple years back, and I was content in embracing the concept of Death of the Author (or, as I've previously termed it, "we've killed the author and are now rifling through her stuff to keep the good bits and throw out the bad"). But now, in light of her continued escalations and the recent TV series announcement, and the conversations I've been having with friends (particularly Jewish and trans friends), I do mean that the very concept of Harry Potter is ruined for me. My, now decades, of nostalgia just...aren't enough to supersede what feels like an irresponsible attachment. Before, I wanted HP's social presence to live on in spite of and without JK Rowling. Now, it's becoming more and more apparent that the entertainment industry is going to squeeze as much money out of the HP world as possible which will, by extension, continue to give her a platform and money with which to actively support her shitty dogma.

So. Here I am, too sad to pick up my HP books for my annual summer re-read, or start the new fic a writer I love has just posted or open the document to work on my own HP fic. Which is not at all a condemnation of folks in fandom who ARE able to keep reading and creating and loving the world while thumbing their nose at her. I just can't right now.

So I'm stepping back and blocking the tags and ignoring the show and trying to let other worlds consume me.

Anyway. That's what it meant to me. Sorry for the tiny violin moment but your ask made me sit down and confront the fact that I'm dealing with an extremely weird sort of grief I haven't ever encountered before.

just learned the creator of the regalia crossflex isnt making nibs anymore and ive never been more devastated

SIMONE KESSELL as FAITH COOPER (part 3 of ? because i have no self-control) My Life Is Murder | 3.10 - Killer Fashion

The Council of Me has convened and come to the solemn conclusion that there really is no-one in this world cuter than Lucy Miller. ❤️ 

not to be like that again but i want a new dishonored game so bad

THIS SKETCHY COMIC WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY this cool post FROM @cupids-cringe !!

And not only that. BUT A BONUS SKETCH TOO, ALL INCLUSIVE WITH A SIDE OF SILLY HEADCANON!

Despite how badass they each look with their chosen weapons, neither Freeman nor Loverboy can actually aim for shit!

i'm having more side quest ideas

Anyways sorry for rambling about fucking Universal Studios of all things I have an interest in amusement parks, and merch, and am very normal about the Super Mario Brothers actually so y'know.

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Honestly, as much as well talk about it, I kinda don't seen City as an option just becauss they've built their team over the last 2 years, including ofc Grealish who also plays as a 10 and is a starter, and it doesn't feel like they'd want to make any big transfers now. But still I guess we will see in the transfer window for sure, both for City's squad and Messi's decision.

appreciate the reality check, anons 🥲 it's all on leo and whether he believes in whatever "sports project" nonsense pissg is feeding him atp. i seriously doubt he's going to stay in the tinpot club for much longer (dear god let this not be a jinx), but considering barça's financial situation rn, not to mention tebas,,, i really don't think it's a feasible option. and i don't want it to be, either :// not at this moment, anyway. so yes, we can only wait and see what happens in the next transfer window. i'm not too worried about his options tbh— it's fucking messi, not just any random player: all it takes is the news "he is wants to leave" to break out just like the burofax in 2020 and he'll have clubs lining up at his doorstep

I notice that even though Citron's my fave, I spend more time here talking about Orange and Navel.

I think it's fear of being wrong.

I was trying to define how I'm feeling rn and I came up with 'horrible, but in a good way'

oh my godddddddd we're moving much sooner than i thought and i'm really trying not to panic. any positivity would be helpful lmao

I want to thank my wife for making me see the color pink in a new light; making it a joyous event for me, instead of something I roll my eyes at. Associating it with her is the best thing that could have happened to my relationship to it. It's genuinely happy for me now, because I know it makes her happy. And I feel protective, and in that feeling, grows a defensive stubbornness to have more pink and more softness.

My heart just burstssss 💓with the desire to surround her with all the pretty things. With all the soft, blooming pink adornments i could find, to make her feel light, loved, and more precious than the stars.

I love that she's the softest soul I've ever known. I treasure her unabashed love of cute things, pretty, silly things I wouldn't have opened my heart to before. She's the smartest and most knowledgeable person I know, and her humor matching mine was like endless cherries on top of what I already was incredibly humbled to be a part of with her. There's something so grounding about the light-hearted moments; I really started realizing that in the past months. She makes me laugh all day, and she laughs with me, and even what I do and what I joke about can make her smile to tears. I'm starstruck by it, because she's a wonder to behold in those moments, and because it makes me feel so liked... I go shy in my heart, and smile to myself. One of the greatest joys.

I'm in awe that I get to know all parts of her, equally. Her resolution of spirit, her encyclopedic brain, her balm of a laugh, her lazy touch, her corny jokes, and so much more... To have known and adored her as someone online, then a friend, and to now know and adore her intimately, constantly makes me feel so privileged and wonderstruck.

She makes me look twice at simplicity, and awards my heart with beauty and meaning that I wouldn't have found had she not pointed to it. Trinkets, patterns, details, words, and actions; I think life is fizzing within her, and she cares so much because she can feel it all for how invaluable it is. She lives through the kind of heart I've aimed to carry in myself. I cultivate the thoughts to behave with intention, but she truly feels it all, second after second, and to watch her is to love life a thousandfold.

I try harder because of her, I wait longer because of her, I give my body pause for appreciation of what's around me, of what beauty could be found in it. I watch her watch things, and take notes. I give pause to more, in general, to feel the length of moments and savor them, and I start to understand that relaxing and nothingness have value in them, beyond preservation, or restoration. Sitting there with you is a treasure in itself. I know it, but my instincts take me out of what I know in my core to be true, for fear, that just being here wouldn't be enough. You brush fears gently with your warmth, and keep me embraced for long enough to feel, that I'm right where I should be.

She brightens everything with her gentleness and her uncorrupted stance in herself, which I admire so greatly. Seemingly uninfluenced by trends and outside opinion, she remains so effortlessly herself that her taste is truly hers, and it's so rare, and inspiring. She's like a true free spirit. She knows what she sees in things, and in others, and she's not afraid to compliment and acknowledge, even the smallest things. Victories are a many, every day, when you are around her. It's so light, so unburdened. All a continuation of communication and cooperation, and sadness, and comfort, and good faith, and care, leading us to all the finish lines we ever start.

I want her warmth to be held and celebrated for the gift that it is. I long to spend all my time embellishing her world the way she does mine. My love is hers, always deepening, filling endlessly with memories to look back on. I want more pictures than one can store, and I'm so happy about it. I used to delete without care, and now I want to overflow in folders of us.

I'm more affectionate than I could have ever been; I feel it become part of me, my hand reaching for her like that's what it's meant for. I feel the eyes beyond us becoming irrelevant. It gets easier and lovelier and more necessary each time I see her face again. It makes me so happy, and proud, and I know it's thanks to her.

I realized recently that I finally understand this thing about not knowing where the other person begins and where you end. Fade into you, you know. I understand. It's beyond words, constant when in her presence, unstated, but here, in me, between us. I feel complete, I feel peace, I'm at home with her. Nothing comes close to this.

I love you, infinitely, Dusty. I love choosing you, every single day. It's effortless; it's the thing that makes the most sense in the whole world. I'm so proud of you, and in love with you. 2 years of giggly disbelief that you love me too. I'm so lucky, @dustlines <3

trigger warnings.

(x)

hm