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anchanted-one · 4 years

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Harry Potter Talk

Settle in everyone, this is going to be a long one.

So a couple of days ago, I saw a massive anti-HP (the character) rant that really irritated me that I wanted to address.

Before I do, let's address the transphobic in the room. Rowling. Transphobia is detestable, and not wanting to support the series while that directly benefits and enriches her is a super valid stance. Also my personal stance, we support the trans people in this house!

Now that that's out of the way.

"Harry Potter, jock from a wealthy family" or something to that effect.

Regardless of how big his bank account is, remember how Harry was brought up? And by whom?

The Dursleys. The magic-hating child-abusers. Who forced Harry to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years. Who gave him Dudley's things secondhand. His mother's sister was so unwilling to spend a dime on him that she was dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray to use as Harry's school uniform.

His cousin Dudley, who delighted in tormenting him, and whose gang joined him in beating up Harry whenever Dudley felt bored enough that he wanted to beat him up for fun.

Is this the upbringing of a "rich jock"? He never used much of his wealth in the Muggle world and even in his school years he seems to know the importance of restraint, and sharing (in book one, he's delighted to be able to share with Ron, and in book four he gives the Twins a thousand galleons without a second thought). Dudley was the one who got thirty-six presents on his birthday and threw a fit coz it was less than what he'd got the previous year. Harry got a used tissue for Christmas. He was the one so not expecting any gifts at all that his best friend's mother packed him a hand-knitted sweater for him, and made his day.

Jock? He played the loneliest position in the Quidditch team. The Chasers and Keepers work together as a team, and the Beaters too, but Seekers are ignored by everyone--including the team--until it becomes apparent that they've spotted something.

Harry was quite popular when he joined the school, but that popularity mostly manifested as people pointing at his scar and whispering about him. Most made him uncomfortable. He only ever had a few friends he was comfortable with.

There were long periods when he was in fact an outcast. That time he lost fifty points for the thing with the dragon, or the time when the Ministry and the Newspapers had turned the entire Wizarding world against him. The time his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, all Houses except Gryffindor treated him like shit, and even the Gryffindors, while they were cheering for him, weren't paying much mind when he was saying that he didn't do it, or that he needed support. That one time, even Ron didn't stay by his side. He was all alone but for Hermione.

The only time he fit the bill of the jock was in book six, when he was too obsessed with what Malfoy was doing to give a damn about his newfound popularity. That was also when he chose the company of outcasts like Neville and Luna over popular hangers-on.

Yes, there are legit reasons to hate the character; he has a massive hero complex. He routinely gets his friends into trouble because of it. He has a very narrow and myopic perspective because of which he doesn't notice much outside of his mystery-hunter track (there was a time when I could illustrate that point better, but it's been a decade and more since I read the last book. I wanted to better read up before talking about this, but I can't bring myself to binge-read like I used to)

By contrast, yes James Potter was a 'jock'. But that's reason to hate him, not his son. Harry, when he sees Snape's worst memory, is rightly horrified. When Remus tries to make the "we were just fifteen" excuse, Harry reminds him "I'm fifteen!". (It should also be noted that Snape's memories obviously show his nemesis at his worst, whereas Remus Lupin--the Werewolf--tells Harry repeatedly that James and Sirius were there for him when no one else was. James risked his life to fight Voldemort, whereas Snape was happily on Voldy's side until that one person he cared about was marked for death by the Prophecy©. Snape was also an abusive bully well until he died--just ask Neville. Dumbledore has also told Harry that memories are fickle things, which can be changed, so the chances that Snape simmered in this memory and unconsciously distilled it to make his old nemeses seem even worse--or himself seem like the angel who wouldn't hurt a fly--also exist. As someone who's experienced bullying, mockery, etc, I know this self-serving tendency of memory quite well. Though this bit is speculation on my part. )

Regarding the sillier names like Pansy Parkinson, and mean descriptions

In addition, when the series began, it started as a children's series, hence the Roald Dahl-like non-villain bad guys of the early part, and the "hate-me-I'm-nasty" names they were given. The Dursleys. Dudley Dursley aka Dudders. "Pansy Parkinson". Everyone was more caricature than character. That's how they are in children's books.

Many people are also described in a way to make the reader immediately dislike them. Malfoy is pale, with a pointy chin. Snape is an oily man with a large beaked nose and greasy hair. Rita Skeeter has a mannish jaw. Umbridge has a face like a toad. All of this is again in keeping with the Roald Dahl theme. Whether it's Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Mike Teavee, Violet Beauregarde or their mannerisms and descriptions make readers feel an instant dislike for them.

When the series became more... Mature, those caricatures can start finding their critics. Never mind that such caricatures and worse can be found in thousands of other works, like Superhero comics for instance. Yes, no one names their children "Pansy" but Slytherin was an allegory for white supremacist type people. Back in those days, JK wanted them to be hated without reserve, much as she wanted bigotry and racism to be (irony, considering where she stands today).

Death of the Author

In the text there is no real transphobia that I can remember, other than that description of Rita having a "mannish jaw" (I admit that I haven't read it in ages, but I am still certain of this). Once the material is out in print, everyone is free to interpret it as they choose. Whenever JK comes out with clarifications or retcons or something--as she is known to do anyway--it's still more of her headcanon than in-world truth. If there is no outright mention of something in the text, then it doesn't matter what meaning the author intended to convey. What matters is what each reader makes of it. In the case of Harry Potter, the enemy are clearly folks obsessed with blood purity: Purebloods.

Lazy names

I'm going to speak specifically about the Indian names here: Parvati and Padma Patil.

While India is a large country and the name is more common in certain regions than others, I had heard that Patel/Patil surname is quite common in Britain. And really in Indian cinema the most common girls' names are Priya (Big Bang Theory as well) or Pooja, many girls in this side of the screen have goddess names. Like "Parvati". Many people also keep the same first letter for names for twins, or even in families (for instance, my parents, sister, and I, all have names starting with "A"), so "Padma" is a nice choice of name. And really, Padma and Parvati Patil are much better names than "Khan Noonien Singh" (now there's a lazy name).

Everyone insists that Star Trek's Khan is supposed to be of Indian origin, but with a name like that and an actor with a Mexican accent... I don't really think so. It was because of this silly character generation that I didn't particularly mind him being played by the very white Benedict Cumberbatch.

But the Patil twins. Them I can feel that connection to.

Races of the main cast

Now this might be something contentious, so I apologise for that in advance.

No one cares what Harry is, though since Petunia is noted as being pale, and Lily has red hair, the unknown factor is James Potter. Was he black? That would make Harry biracial at best.

Ron is written as a freckled boy with red hair, and all Weasleys share that look.

As for Hermione... She is the poster child of the blood-purity bigotry bias. When reading her, people are supposed to understand that the prejudice against her is certainly her Muggle-born origin; not her skin color, not her nationality, not her sexual orientation. Which is why I feel it's necessary that she stand out as less as possible in those other ways. For this reason I think that it was a good idea to portray her as white.

Here are characters who are specifically noted as black: Dean Thomas, Michael Corner (both of whom were Ginny's boyfriends), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Lee Jordan, Blaise Zabini (who's noted as being very handsome, and quite popular). Aside from these we have a few token people of Indian and Chinese origin. Speaking again as an Indian, I don't really mind. This is a British story set in a mid-nineties British school only accepting students from the British Isles. It makes sense to me if there are few Indians.

What does all of this translate to? There are legit reasons to hate both the character and the series. So don't make stuff up, especially if you're ignoring the text to do it. Don't confuse the author and their work, even if you have resolved not to buy that work and thereby support her.

#Harry Potter #In defense-ish of #My opinion #Bigass post

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ddproductionsw77 · 6 years

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Perfect

Fandom: IT (2017)

Pairing(s): (Main) Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak), (Secondary) Benverly (Ben Hanscom x Beverly Marsh), and Stenbrough (Stan Uris x Bill Denbrough)

Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh (Hanscom), Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough, Stan Uris, and Cassie Tozier (OC).

Rating: T

Description: Richie had honestly never even thought about kids. Why would he? He wasn’t cut out to be a dad, ask anyone... Anyone but Eddie, apparently. (AKA Eddie and Richie talk about kids. [Aged-Up to Adults])

Author’s Note: I love Reddie more than I should and my best friend, soulmate, sister and I came up with a ton of headcanons and this is the result of one.

“Do you want kids?”

Richie dropped the two plates in his hand, sending them crashing to the floor where they shattered on impact. The pieces of the plate had scattered across the floor, shooting in every different direction. Eddie had wanted ceramics and he’d gotten it but Richie still didn’t understand why they couldn’t eat off of paper plates.

Richie groaned and crouched down across from Eddie, who had also bent to pick up the fragments. Glancing up at his boyfriend, Richie was actually relieved he’d dropped the plates.

He did not want to see the conversation Eddie’s question would undoubtedly lead to. There were certain times when Richie would know instinctually from the start of a discussion with Eddie that it was destined to end in an argument.

This was one of those times.

Eddie, still in his scrubs from the twelve-hour shift he had just gotten home from before cooking dinner, stood with about a plate and a half worth of parts in his hands. He dumped the wreckage into the trash before turning on Richie, who was also standing.

He crossed his arms over his chest and remained expressionless as he asked, “So, I’m guessing that’s a no?”

Richie’s heart jumped into his throat and he fiddled with the ceramic in his hands. “Why ya wanna know, Spaghetti Man? Bevvie and Ben giving you baby fever?”

He knew the dodging and mocking would infuriate his boyfriend but he really didn’t want to talk about this and he knew that the only reason Eddie was even fucking bringing it up was because Beverly had announced to the rest of the Losers a couple months back that she was set to pop out a Hanscom in 5 months.

They were twenty-fucking-two, barely out of college, and struggling to make ends meet for just the two of them; Eddie had to be batshit to be thinking about kids.

“I want to know because,” Eddie dropped his arms to his sides and shrugged, scrunching up his face in that cute way he did when searching for words. “Because you’re my boyfriend and I feel like I should know.”

Richie moved past Eddie and dumped his own pile of the broken plate into the trash, “We’re dating?! Fuck, I totally forgot, man!”

“Richie,” Eddie turned to eye him, his tone frank. “Stop the bullshit and answer the question.”

“Come on, Eds.” Slumping to lean back on the kitchen counter, Richie moodily crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, “Me, Trashmouth Tozier, a dad? That’s never gonna happen.”

There was a long silence in the kitchen and Richie couldn’t bring himself to look at Eddie immediately. When he did finally let his eyes trail upward, his chest restricted seeing Eddie’s jaw flex and the other boy’s eyes dart away.

Words attempted to crawl up his throat and throw themselves at Eddie’s feet. Words that would fix that repressed look of disappointment but that, Richie knew, weren’t true. He forced himself to stay silent, knowing it would be too cruel to give Eddie false hopes.

Richie had honestly never even thought about kids. Why would he? Like he’d said, he wasn’t cut out to be a fucking parent.

Ask anyone... anyone except Eddie apparently.

Goddammit, had his boyfriend lost his damn mind?

Richie had Mommy issues, Daddy issues and commitment issues to any person or thing that was not Eddie Kaspbrak. There were days where he felt like he was barely keeping his relationship together and if it weren’t for Eddie’s patience and understanding he doubted that would even be true. With a track record like that, why would Eddie even want to have a kid with him anyway?

“Why?” The silence was finally broken by Eddie and Richie rubbed the back of his neck, wishing the conversation would just end.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and shrugged, helplessly, "I’m a fucking poster child for neglect and child abuse, that’s why. I’d only fuck it up.”

Eddie’s eyebrows creased together and he turned his head to look back at Richie, eyes soft and brown, “You really think that?”

“Don’t think it, babe. Know it.”

Eddie sighed, looking contemplative for a moment before nodding, “Okay, so… do you just know that I’d fuck up a kid, too, then?”

“What?” Richie asked, bewildered. He couldn’t see a correlation between his statement and his boyfriend’s question.

“Have you ever met Sonia Kaspbrak?” Eddie inquired, floored, “If you’re fucked up because of your parents, then I definitely am too. So, do you think that I’d be a shit parent, too, then?”

“No,” Richie groaned, running a hand down his face, “That’s not— I didn’t say that.”

“I know, I heard you. You said—“

“Look, Eddie, I really don’t want to do this,” He gestured between the two of them. “I answered your fucking question. Drop it.”

“But—“

“Please.”

Eddie froze, clamping his mouth shut with the words he’d been about to speak still on his tongue. Richie and he argued all the time. Richie told him to drop things all the time. He hammered on without dropping them all the time.

But Richie never said please. It wasn’t his ‘style’ to beg, he always said.

Eddie swallowed hard, mouth still pressed into a tight line, and nodded.

Eddie was distracted, tapping the lid of his coffee cup nervously and nibbling at his lower lip. He was exhausted, having just worked yet another twelve-hour shift in a Friday night ER. It was difficult to run purely on caffeine and the adrenaline of the job that hadn’t yet completely faded as he waited in the cafe around the corner from Derry Home.

Still, Eddie loved being a trauma nurse.

It felt like proof of how far he’d come since he’d been a child with crippling hypochondria and the constant companionship of his inhaler. Sonia, his mother, had nearly had a panic attack herself when he’d told her his career goals back at the start of college but he’d powered on anyway.

He was a grown man now and the stress of the ER seemed to kick him into gear rather than shut him down. Being scared seemed to make him brave, somehow.

The seat across from him scrapped back, a body settling itself down into it.

Mike Hanlon grinned at Eddie, “So, what’s wrong?”

Eddie quirked a tired eyebrow, “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“You know I only say this out of love but,” Mike gave his friend an apologetic look, “You look like shit.”

The other man snorted and rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his black coffee, “Well, I appreciate your honesty, I guess, Mikey.”

Mike laughed and shook his head. After a moment though he sobered and looked back at his friend. Eddie had gone back to distractedly drumming on his cup.

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

Eddie eyebrows knit together but he continued to look out the window instead of meeting Mike’s questioning gaze. Bring a hand up, he rested his chin in his palm and tapped his lip with his jittery fingers. He felt like Richie, unable to stop moving.

“Richie doesn’t want to have kids.” He sighed and finally glanced at Mike before quickly darting his eyes away. “Like ever.”

Mike nodded slowly, taking in what his friend had said. He was never one to react in a snap. He knew rash, reckless remarks and advice could be given when one did that and Mike Hanlon was not rash or reckless. No, he was smart and calculating, but honestly clueless on a situation like Eddie’s. He’d never found anyone worth expanding the population with, never had something like what he’d witnessed over the year between Richie and Eddie.

“And I’m guessing that’s an issue because…” He trailed off, considering his next few words carefully, “You want them, don’t you?”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed red and he looked at the table, shaking his head, “It doesn’t matter if I do — If I did. I’d have to not be with Richie for that to ever happen and that’s just not an option.”

“I don’t know about that, Eddie,” Mike said, reluctantly.

Eddie looked up to raise a questioning eyebrow at his friend.

Mike sighed, “Richie had some screwed up parents. He pretends he’s fine all the time but I’m guessing you know better than any of us that he’s not, even now after all these years. So, maybe he’s just scared? Maybe he just needs time to think?”

Eddie nodded slowly, gaze level and steady with Mike’s. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Beverly sat up temporarily to allow Ben to slip in between her and the couch’s armrest before settling her back into his side. Ben threw his hand casual over her shoulder, running his fingers absentmindedly over her arm. At the other end, Richie sat bouncing his leg with Bev’s feet resting in his lap.

Looking up from the dress sleeve she’d been sewing, Bev eyed her friend in annoyance, “Richie, I can’t relax with you doing that.”

“Doing what?” Richie asked, looking away from the baseball game Ben had on.

Bev and Ben both eyed him and the redhead cocked an eyebrow, “You know what. That.” She gestured to his bouncing leg.

Instantly, he stilled only to start up drumming his fingers on the curve of Beverly’s ankle. Sighing, she looked over her shoulder at her fiancé and Ben shrugged wordlessly in reply.

Beverly crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to Richie, “Okay, Trashmouth, spit it out. How’d you fuck up this time?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Richie shot her a little glare, “Why do you assume I fucked up?”

Ben shifted awkwardly beneath Bev before asking, “Well, I mean… did you?”

“No, actually, I didn’t.” The other man replied, stubbornly.

“So… why are you here then? Eddie got off work,” Beverly grasped Ben’s wrist and red the time on his watch, “Two hours ago. Usually, you’d have run home the second the clock hit three.”

Richie shrugged, not meeting either of the couple’s prying eyes.

Beverly bit her lip worriedly before deciding to change the subject, “Benny, we really should start clearing out that spare room for the baby.”

Richie cringed, pinching his brow and drumming more furiously on Bev’s ankle. Goddammit, could he not escape baby-talk?

He watched from the corner of his eye as his best friend’s hand fell to cover the little swell in her abdomen. Fuck, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept of Bevvie Marsh and Haystack Hanscom procreating…

It sparked an irritation in his chest that he knew was completely unwarranted.

Ben’s hand came up to twirl a lock of red hair and he nodded, “Don’t worry about a thing, my lady love. It all just Mike’s old stuff and he, Bill, and Stan said they’d come over to pick it up next weekend.”

“I still feel bad that Mike had to leave…” Beverly trailed off with a sigh.

“It’s not like your average twenty-two year old wants to be stuck in an apartment with a baby anyway,” Richie broke in, calling both Bev and Ben’s attention.

A bright red flush spread across Beverly’s freckles and she raised her eyebrows, “Excuse me? Ben and I aren’t stuck, asshole.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Richie asked in monotone. “Planned this whole thing, did ya?”

“You know what, fuckhead—“

“Richie! Let’s talk outside, maybe?” Ben broke in, carefully standing up so as not to jolt Beverly too much. He gave Richie a look that made it clear that his offer was not really optional. Sighing, the Trashmouth stood as well and followed Haystack to the hallway.

Closing the apartment door behind him, Ben crossed his arms over his chest and silently raised his eyebrows at Richie. “Well?”

“Well what, Benny Henny?”

“Why are you being even more unbearable than usual? You know Beverly doesn’t need that from you right now. You’re her best friend, what you think matters to her. Even when you think stupid.” Ben questioned.

Richie’s ear flushed in shame he’d never acknowledge and he shrugged, “I just don’t see the appeal, I guess. The whole kid thing? Seems a little overrated, little played out, to me. And seeing you and her act like fucking idiots over—”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Ben held up a hand, “Because if I don’t, I might hit you and I don’t need Beverly to be pissed at me.”

Richie opened his mouth to argue but Ben powered on, “Nope, sorry, my turn.”

He narrowed his eyes at the other man, “I don’t know why you’re suddenly being a dick about Bev being pregnant but figure it out and grow the hell up, Richie. Now, go home to your boyfriend because I’m pretty sure he’s the only one who can even deal with you right now.”

Probably true, too… Eddie was always the one to brave Richie’s shittest moods.

Richie sighed and ran a hand down his face, nodding slowly, “Yeah, Haystack. Tell Bevvie I said bye… and that I’m sorry.”

After a week of Richie and Eddie going through their motions without really acknowledging each other, it was obvious that something needed to be addressed. The problem was that neither of them knew which one of them was in the wrong.

Were either of them even wrong?

It was perfectly normal to want to be a parent, Eddie knew that. He’d kind of always assumed that one day, he’d be a father. It was a part of the natural progression he planned his life to take. He’d never brought it up to Richie because, well, he’d figured Richie thought the same way… and he shouldn’t have apparently.

On the other hand, Richie had every right to not want children. The world was a screwed up place and their circumstances as a same-sex couple made becoming parents more complicated than it was for couples like Ben and Bev. There was paperwork and long waiting lists involved and maybe Richie was right… maybe it wasn’t worth it.

Before the idea had been planted into Eddie’s head, he’d been perfectly happy and content with it just being him and Richie. They worked and they fit together just right… so why did it suddenly feel like something was missing?

Because, logically, nothing was missing!

Eddie was at the kitchen table, surrounded by bills, a notepad, and a calculator when Richie came tiredly crashing into the apartment. Eddie glanced up, smiled with exhaustion in his eyes, and returned to his financing.

Richie paused, looking over his boyfriend from the kitchen doorframe. He’d had to do soundboard for the late-night radio host and it was much later than he normally got home. He’d called Eddie, but still…

Slowly, he moved forward and slipping off his jean jacket, “You’re still up?”

Eddie glanced at the clock on the stove, 12:45 am, and shrugged, “Rent is due in a week and I was on-call today so I got started later than usual…”

“Oh, cool…” Richie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Eddie eyed him and his obvious discomfort in curiously. It took a hell of a lot to make Richie Tozier uncomfortable, usually something to do with actual emotion.

He dropped himself into the seat across from Eddie and sighed, “I wanted to talk to you actually.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the papers in front of him before nodding and looking up, “Yeah, okay. What do you want to talk about?”

Richie picked at his nails, not meeting his boyfriend’s eyes, “You want to be a dad, Eds.” The other man tensed and glanced away but remained silent as Richie continued. “And I… I think you’d be a really good one. I think you should be one.”

“Stop,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head. Richie finally looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Don’t say shit like that, not when—“ He sighed. “Not when it’s never going to happen.”

“Never…“ Richie started but trailed off, nervously continuing to pick at his cuticles.

“It’s fine, Richie.” Eddie shrugged, “I’m fine with it. At the end of the day, I just want to be with you so if that means no kids, then that’s what it means.”

“You’d—“ Richie looked at Eddie with a sparkle of awe in his dark eyes, “You’d give that up for me? W-why?”

“Jesus, fuck, asshole! Why do you think?” Eddie exclaimed, bewildered and annoyed. “Because I love you, dipshit! I don’t know why most of the time but I do. So, yes, I would give up having kids for you. I mean— I am.”

He cleared his throat and Richie could tell he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince his boyfriend. Guilt swirled in the DJs gut as Eddie finished, lamely, “So, you don’t need to talk about it anymore!”

Swallowing and looking anywhere but Eddie’s doe eyes, Richie murmured, “What if I want to talk about it… a little bit?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up from a look of irritation to one of shock, “You— Uh— What— What the fuck do you mean, Trashmouth?”

“I don’t know if I want to be a dad, Eds. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to be a dad but I am starting to think that maybe,” He tried to find the right words, “Maybe I want to see you be one and I’m not willing to give you up so… I want to keep talking about that.”

Nodding slowly, Eddie smiled down at the table before looking up at Richie with watery eyes, “Let’s keep talking about that, then.”

It took a literal fuckton of talking to get Richie where he needed to be to even consider agreeing to co-parent. Richie needed to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wanted to have a child. That he’d want one when they came along, that he’d want them a year after that—or ten, twelve, twenty. He refused to be like his parents. He never wanted his son or daughter to feel the resentment he’d lived with all his own life.

Eddie was patient, though. He figured they had time, right? They were only twenty-two after all…

In the end, it took a lot of talking but not much time.

Eight months after their 1 am conversation, Richie held Cassidy Beverly Anne Tozier for the first time.

He counted her ten little fingers and her tiny toes probably fourteen times, never once looking away from her angelic features and finding himself reluctant to even blink. The weight of her small six pounds, three ounces, nineteen inches felt so natural in his hands as she looked up at him with otherworldly baby blue eyes, filled with a complete and utter trust that he most definitely did not deserve.

She was perfect, every fucking inch of her.

She was perfect and she was his—his and Eddie’s.

The papers were signed, the deed was done, no backing out now.

Not that Richie wanted an out; now that he had seen her and held her and loved her, Richie knew it’d take the fury of Hell to tear her away from him.

“You okay?” A hand rested on his arm, another running gently over the tuft of dark hair on Cassidy’s head, and Richie didn’t have to glance up to imagine Eddie’s endearing smile and teary eyes.

Richie nodded, muttering, “Perfect.”

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