like tbh i feel like my problem with the “dark and gritty!!” trend in modern stories is this
there’s this idea in our culture that cynicism is realistic? that only children believe in happy endings, that people are ultimately selfish and greedy and seeing with clear eyes means seeing the world as an awful place
that idealism is— easy, i guess. butterflies and sunshine and love are easy things to have in your head.
but i’ve known since i was fifteen that idealism— faith in humanity— optimism— is the most difficult thing in the entire world.
i constantly struggle to have faith in humanity, because it’s really, really easy to lose it. it’s easy to look at the news and go “what were you expecting? of course humans behave this way.” it’s easy to see the world and go “ugh, there’s no hope there.” and the years when i believed that were easy. miserable— but easy.
it is hard work to see the good in people. it is hard work to hope. it is hard work to keep faith and love and joy and appreciation for beauty in my daily life.
and when moviemakers and tv producers and writers go “omg!!! all characters are selfish and act poorly and don’t love each other, nothing ever happens that is happy or good, that’s so much more realistic, that’s so much more adult”
no, it’s not
it’s the most childish thing i can imagine.
a kid at hogwarts who just wants to get a proper education but can’t focus because of all of the shit harry potter and his friends keep getting themselves into
Jenna B. Lacey, age eleven, knew exactly what she was going to do with her life.
She was going to go to Hogwarts, get top grades, and be the youngest female Minister of Magic by age 35.
It would have been a good plan, if she hadn’t been in the same year as Harry Potter.
* * *
Year one started out great. She was sorted into Hufflepuff, did well in all her classes, and aced the exams.
A troll smashed its way through the study room she was in on Halloween, but that wasn’t going to deter her.
* * *
Year two was a disaster. People were getting petrified, and worse—the teachers had to herd them from place to place, which severely cut down on her library time. She had to study in the common room, which meant instead of a nice, quiet atmosphere, she got a soundtrack of nervous Hufflepuffs.
And on top of that, exams were cancelled. It was a disaster.
* * *
Third year, she started to notice a trend.
First the troll, than the petrifications, and now dementor guards and escaped convicts. What did they all have in common? Potter.
After Black broke in and everyone had to spend the night in the Great Hall, interrupting Jenna’s last minute studying for a test the next day, she took to giving Potter angry looks in every class.
He did not notice.
* * *
They announced the Triwizard tournament at dinner the first night of fourth year, and Jenna almost started crying.
Potter was going to take this one over. She just knew it.
And she was right.
Voldemort rose at the end of the year. She honestly didn’t know what she had expected.
* * *
Fifth year brought Umbridge. She joined the DA because she was going to need a better background in defense, but that didn’t mean she was any happier about Potter.
She imagined it was him she was hexing instead of Zachariah Smith.
But, by the end of the year, focus on her studies was impossible. After Dumbledore left, it was complete anarchy.
Potter’s fault. Of course.
* * *
Sixth year she started volunteering in the hospital wing. She needed a backup plan in case Potter fucked it up.
All seemed quiet, until they brought Malfoy in. It was apparently Potter’s fault, which surprised everyone except Jenna.
Later, she was peacefully studying in a little nook on the third floor when some Death Eaters and some other adults started dueling right under her nose.
This was the worst fucking school, honestly.
* * *
They were calling it “The Final Battle.”
Jenna ran through the hall, dodging in and out of the children evacuating, until she saw him.
He turned, startled. “Um—Jenna, right? We’re sort of busy—”
She grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up until he was eye level with her. “If I’m not Minister of Magic by age 35, it is going to be entirely your fault and I’m going to hurt you.”
She dropped him and stormed away, leaving him to whatever he was doing. She had to fight this goddamn war so she could go back to her fucking studying.
* * *
She became Minister of Magic at age 36.
I think I just found the best Harry Potter fanfic
what happened in roughly 1870 though
why was there temporary internet
with a few people searching for pokemon?
It’s a search of Google books, but the question still stands, what the Fuck happened in 1870
I CAN ANSWER THIS!!
In the Cornish dialect of English, Pokemon meant ‘clumsy’ (pure coincidence).
In the mid 1800s there was a surge of writing about the Cornish language and dialect in an attempt to preserve them with glossaries and dictionaries being written. I wrote about it HERE.