I'm Perfectly Normal About Them😩😩😩

tylenol 🤘

If you're a Snape fan, you've probably had that moment scrolling through some Marauders posts and thought: Did these fans even read the books? Or maybe you've come across those wild comments where Snape gets turned into some kind of full-on villain, while James and Sirius get treated like flawless, saint-like heroes.

It’s like they’re talking about a totally different Harry Potter series! Sometimes, you’ve gotta wonder—do they even know what really happened in the story? Are we even talking about the same James Potter here? And honestly, comments like this kind of answer that question:

A lot of Marauders fans (not all, but definitely some) have no clue what really went down with the Marauders and Snape, who they really were, or what role they actually played in the story.

They’re just here because, let’s be real, the Marauders fandom is super appealing. It’s full of people their age, with tons of fantasy, drama, epic fanfics, hot character fan-casts, tragic love stories, and endless TikTok edits, roleplays, and cosplays. It’s fun, it’s exciting, and it makes you feel like you belong to something special.

With all this awesome fan content, why would anyone go out of their way to actually read the books and face the not-so-glamorous truth? The Marauders in the books are mostly about petty fights, bullying, and not much in the way of exciting, romantic storylines.

And that’s exactly why the hate for Snape has gotten so intense. Snape doesn’t fit the dreamy, tragic aesthetic they’re looking for. He’s basically just there to be the “bad guy,” so they have someone to hate and blame everything on. That way, their perfect heroes get to stay flawless, and Snape can just be the villain in their headcanon.

I have a more comprehensive post here about the (rebranding of the Marauders and, consequently, the need to villainize Snape)

Ah, your atla arts are lovely!

Can you maybe draw young adults kataang with painted lady Katara, and a tall Aang pleasssse 🥹

anon is this good

😠

It’s wild how some people attack nine-year-old Snape for a burst of accidental magic.

Imagine someone like Petunia poking at every raw nerve: mocking your looks, poverty, and family—relentlessly pressing your deepest insecurities. Be honest how many of you would actually keep your cool?? Yeah, thought so. But sure, let’s hold nine-year-old Snape to standards most adults struggle to meet.

Sorry—not sorry—that Severus Snape was nine. Sorry that he was neglected and surrounded by violence. Sorry he felt so insecure after being humiliated for wearing his mother’s clothes, passed down out of poverty, in front of his peers. Sorry he didn’t have years of therapy to regulate his emotions and meet your impossibly high standards for 'acceptable reactions.'

But sure, keep judging a child just trying to survive in a world that offered him nothing but pain. If labeling a traumatized kid a 'Nazi' or 'terrorist' makes you feel superior, go ahead.

(How easy it is to condemn a child for being human.)

I know that we often criticize JK Rowling's writing (and with good reason), but there's one thing I believe she got right: how she portrays Harry finding out about his father's bullying.

Since the beginning of the books, we see Harry's parents as these perfect heroes, who gave their lives to save their son. So, obviously, this orphan child idolizes his parents - and so do we, as readers.

The only person who goes against that idea is Snape, who only ever says bad things about James Potter. However, Harry doesn't believe him, and neither do the readers.

And then, we see Snape's memories and find out that he was right all along. That James wasn't a perfect hero, but used to be a violent bully who tormented people for fun. Just like Harry, we get disenchanted, like we have been deceived this entire time.

Harry idolizes his father, but he's still capable of recognizing that his actions were cruel and inexcusable. Harry hates Snape, but still acknowledges that he didn't deserve that kind of treatment. It's a good message to show that people aren't just "good" or "bad".

And because of that, it's even more frustrating when fans try to defend James' actions, by saying: "Actually, no, Snape was a bad person, so he deserved to be bullied".

Even Harry HATES Snape and is able to see that what his father did is horrible. Harry adores Sirius and adores Remus, and yet he tells them to piss off when they try to justify the bullying. The purpose of that scene is for Harry to demystify his father, to learn that he wasn’t perfect, and to start doubting the adult figures of his childhood. It’s a way to break away from childish innocence and to make the protagonist understand that not everything is black or white, and that even good people can do horrible things, and it’s not right to idealize anyone.

The scene is designed to seem horrible. Harry finds it horrible. Harry. James’s son. Sirius’s godson. Harry finds what they did disgusting, and they’re doing it to someone Harry hates. This isn’t accidental; narrative and storytelling aren’t accidental things. The scene is set up this way, and the protagonist’s reaction is what it is because Rowling is telling the reader that it was horrible, that James and Sirius were bullies, and that Snape was their victim. Denying this goes against the narrative. But justifying it with absurdities like saying it was Snape’s fault for not wearing pants?? I get that they are kids saying these things, but one day they’ll wake up at 25 and realize the nonsense they said online, and they’re really going to feel terrible shame.

The worst part is that they’re not interested in understanding other points of view. Like, you share links or articles with different perspectives, and they don’t care. They don’t give a damn about the canon; they literally deny it. The mental gymnastics they do to justify the abuse? But then they say the scenes are open to interpretation, like, hello? They’re not? The scenes are designed to convey a message, and the message is clear. That they need to deny it over and over again to avoid admitting they’re whitewashing and justifying wealthy abusers is their cognitive dissonance running wild. Honestly, what a damn shame these people are; I don’t care if they’re kids, I had more than two neurons at 15.

Severus Snape woke early that day, as if his body instinctively knew the internal clock was marking something different, something dreaded. The faint light of dawn barely filtered through the tattered curtains of his bedroom in Spinner’s End. Outside, the January wind moaned softly, dragging dry leaves and memories he would rather not have. There was nothing special about this day, at least not in the way others celebrated birthdays. For Severus, the 9th of January was just another reminder of everything he had lost and all he would never have.

He rose from the bed, and as his feet touched the cold floor, a shiver ran down his spine. He didn’t turn on the lights. He didn’t need to see the reflection of time in the mirror. He knew his face was a mixture of invisible scars and shadows accumulated over years of internal and external battles. He moved towards the kitchen, where silence was his only companion, save for the creaking of the wood beneath his feet. He prepared a strong cup of tea, without sugar, without milk, just as he preferred, and sat by the window.

From there, he could observe the grey-tinted river, moving slowly, almost as if it too were trapped in an inescapable routine. In the distance, the factory chimneys exhaled their columns of smoke, as if they were the only ones who deigned to sigh for him on this day. The aroma of the tea rose in a fleeting cloud, a brief caress that dissolved before it could be fully enjoyed.

Severus took the first sip slowly, letting the warmth of the liquid spread through his chest. In his mind, memories slid in with a persistence he hadn’t invited. He couldn’t help but return to the days of his childhood, when birthdays were ignored at home, or worse, were days when violence seemed more prone to erupt. His father, Tobias, had never congratulated him, and his mother, Eileen, only cast him a look of pity mixed with exhaustion. Those days taught him that expecting something special was folly.

The clock on the wall struck nine, and Severus stood, leaving the tea half-finished. There was no reason to prolong this inertia. He wrapped himself in his black cloak and stepped outside, where the cold air bit his skin like a reminder that he was alive, though that sensation brought no comfort. He walked aimlessly, letting his steps take him through the deserted streets, past houses that seemed to have surrendered to winter.

He stopped in a small park where he used to play as a child. The metal structures were rusted, and the frost-covered ground crunched under his feet. He sat on a bench and observed the surroundings, almost expecting to see the ghost of his younger self running among the trees, chasing dreams that never came true. Nostalgia tangled in his throat, but there were no tears, only a void that seemed to grow with each passing year.

Around him, the world kept turning, ignorant of his suffering. People came and went, immersed in their own lives, while he, as always, remained on the sidelines, observing but never participating. He wondered if anyone, somewhere, would remember his birthday. Probably not. Even at Hogwarts, his students feared him more than they appreciated him. He wasn’t a man who inspired affection, and he knew that well.

The minutes slipped away like sand through his fingers, and when the sun reached its zenith, Severus stood, feeling he had completed his melancholy ritual. He returned to his house, where the dimness awaited him like an old friend. He removed his cloak and returned to the window, where the river continued its unchanging course.

The day would pass, like all the others, and in the end, the 9th of January would be just another number on the calendar. But, although Severus hated his birthday, he recognised it was part of him, an indelible mark that defined him. He couldn’t escape himself, but neither did he want to. In his pain, he had found a sort of solace, a bitter acceptance that his life was like the river: constant, cold, and always moving, even when it seemed stagnant.

Severus sighed, the sound breaking the silence like a dry leaf underfoot. And then, with a determination he barely understood, he decided that perhaps, just perhaps, next year the day wouldn’t be so grey. But that was a thought for another time. For now, he simply existed, and in his existence, he found a kind of peace.

Leaves this here and runs away

Original designs by @imgdist0000 (Cat Cecil) and @aratinganana (Donald duck) ‼️