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brighttears · 11 months

Text

Wise Fools

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n, readers has female sex organs

Summary: you tell Joel you love him, he doesn’t react how you think, but he also doesn’t react how he wishes he had. he sorts himself out and comes back to fix things.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mutual pining, drinking to get drunk, SMUT (minors DNI), cunnilingus, fingering, male masturbation, mentions of PiV sex, pet names (darling, sweetheart, beautiful girl),

A/n: not super proud of this tbh but i just felt pressured to post it like i just wanted to get it tf out eeeeee. barely proofread the smut not my fave thing to write but i know it's what the ppl want 😪

—

“…I just feel like I need to tell you, I never want to be without you… and… I love you, Joel.”

You watch his lashes because he won't meet your eyes, then brush a finger over his cheek to softly hook under his chin, but just as he lets you raise it, he shifts out of your grasp and stands.

You watch him walk away, smoothing his hand over the back of his neck, facing the dark front window in his living room, the only sound being his foot scuffing to a stop.

The air shifts. You can tell that he’s not going to say anything, and are suddenly hit with the realization that you are a fool. You fooled yourself into believing that you have some kind of control over this game, some kind of special insight or providence. You feel beat.

He stands with his back mostly to you, his arms crossed, staring at the floor. His jaw flexes.

A ball of lead falls from your head down through your heart to land in your stomach and your skin prickles; it’s a freezing cold feeling but you’re hot with embarrassment at the same time. Those first few times you saw him, you remember how irrefutable you saw your goal to be; like you were already his, you thought he was already yours.

This whole time, it was just you. Your heart begins to race.

“I’m gonna go.” You get up, pause for half a second, thinking he might try to stop you, but he doesn’t. He still won't even look at you. You feel sick. “Have a good night.” You manage as you slip out.

—

“Fuck.” Joel stays standing after you leave, pulling fists of his hair up until it hurts. Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispers through gritted teeth, “God damn it.” Part of him is screaming to go after you but his body won’t obey, and his mind twists, curls and knots around itself. The one thing he knows for sure is that he fucked up. He feels small and stupid. And he wants his brother.

Joel counts to fifty before leaving his house. Outside, he wants to call out his brother's name, he wants to run to him like a child, he wants him here now. Clenching his jaw, he keeps his mouth shut, and repeatedly swallows down thick threats underneath cries. Finally, he makes it to Tommy’s front door and raps on it, waits, raps again. He combs his hand through his hair, then drags it down his face, clears his throat, and sniffs hard.

Tommy opens the door looking a little groggy, but his eyes snap wide open upon seeing his brother so undone. Once processed, he urges him, “Shit. Come on, come in, sit down, I'll get ya’a drink.”

Suddenly very insecure, Joel whispers, “Well I don’t wanna disturb Maria, I guess I sh—”

“Nah, nah, nah,” Tommy shakes his head, “she’s asleep, but she’s a hard sleeper. As long as we’re not screamin’. Js’ come on.” He motions his arm inside and Joel finally follows. “Sit down,” he tells him over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen, and comes back out with two thick, clear plastic cups, and a large clear glass bottle holding an easily recognizable rust colored drink. He pours without a word, sits down, and looks at his brother, “Go, on, then. What happ’nd?”

Joel takes his cup, staring into it as he begins, “I fucked up, Tommy. I fucked up real bad.” He sips and keeps his eyes in the cup as he continues, “She told me she loves me. An’ I didn’t say a fuckin’ thing. Did’n even look at her.” He takes a long sip and grimaces, “So she left. Cause I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Aw, don’t say that,”

Joel shakes his head, “I am. I am. I’m a fuckin’ coward is what I am. I love ‘er, you know that?” He finally looks up to Tommy.

“Yeah, I kinda guessed.”

“N’ it’s like this whole time I’ve been waitin’ for that, for, I don’t even know what the fuck, to know if–if she loves me I guess, an’ she does, an’ I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I js’ froze. I froze bad. I love her, I do, I do… Fuck me. Look what I just did to ‘er.” He sloppily gulps what’s left in his glass as he finishes his sentence, then says immediately, “Pour me another one.”

“You tryna get shitfaced?” Tommy inquires, visibly concerned.

“Wouldn’you?”

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek, then uncaps the glass bottle and pours. “Fair ‘nough.”

“Mm.” Joel watches him pour, then raises his glass, “To bein’ a fuckin’ idiot.” and throws the liquor back. Tommy follows suit, for his brother's sake.

—

You stumble the short way to your house, almost falling, and curse yourself for being so weak as to be physically hindered by nothing but a broken heart; nothing you haven’t felt before… this time feels different, though.

Once inside your house, you sniffle, cough, and walk straight into the kitchen, dragging a chair behind you to set in front of the refrigerator. You climb it to retrieve the one bottle of alcohol you keep in your house: a bottle of wine, old as shit, found on the road. You don’t bother with a glass nor do you pull the chair back to the table, simply collapsing in it there and take out your pocket knife to work at the cork.

How the wine tastes isn’t something you pay any mind to, though it’s possibly one that you should savor, being that it’s aged and all that. Within a few minutes, half of the bottle is gone, set on the counter next to your chair, where you sit, legs spread, elbows on your knees, nails on your scalp.

You told him you love him, you said the L word, you broke your rule, made many broken hearts ago, to not fucking do that. Why did you think, really believe, that this time was different? What a fucking fool.

Sitting up straight, you breathe deeply, grab the bottle, and then guzzle another cup out.

Should you just leave Jackson? Run away? It’d be best for the both of you, you think. Where would you go?

Suddenly, the question hits you: what's the point of going on if you have nobody?

You are well acquainted with this feeling of brokenheartedness and deep lonesomeness. However, you’ve never experienced it in a house like this, warm, unarmed, drunk. Well what's the point of staying in Jackson if all you’re going to do is… what, this? Go to the fucking movies? And avoid Joel. No way would Tommy talk to you. Maybe not Ellie, either. You couldn’t blame either of them. He’s theirs, they’re his, all running with loyalty in their blood. Not you, though. You are an outsider.

Don't you dare allow the simple thought of what's the point? That is not allowed. For all the people you’ve known that have died, who held on with everything they could to the last fucking second, you can’t give it up. Even if it all just means pain, fear, and loneliness.

At least if you’re alone all you need to fear for is yourself. Definitely not over some silly man, of all things. Some silly man, who you love like you’ve never loved before, who couldn’t bear the thought of that, so much so that he had to pretend like he hadn’t heard it, that you weren’t even there.

“Jesus Christ.” You slur, standing, holding the bottle, and take a few empty steps into the empty living room. The couch bounces back with you when you plop down on it. Your eyes fall closed. Without opening them, you set the wine bottle on the coffee table and stretch out on the couch.

Clips and images of Joel run over your eyes and you’re drunk enough to enjoy them. You reflect on the first time you saw him, how unbelievably beautiful he was, and how funny he looked, like a lost little kid walking down the street, and then the first time you met, when Tommy called out his name while you talked with him leaned against opposite polls under the awning of a shop. Something about the cool light tones of the winter contrast ridiculously well with him and you were near starstruck. Immediately, you knew It was him. Then you started seeing him around more, you worked on a couple projects together in town, did patrols, met up on each other's porches, talked just to talk. You could talk for hours, nonstop, always something more to add. The kind of immediate connection you had is one you can’t remember the last time you had with anyone. By the end of winter, you were thick as thieves.

And you had misread all of it, and ruined it.

You jolt up. Then decide to move upstairs to bed, for some comfort at least. It works like a charm and you’re out cold within minutes of snuggling in under the covers.

—

Tommy convinces Joel to quit drinking before he can’t walk anymore, which he decides is fair. Drinking isn’t helping anyway. It’s an extremely refreshing walk home. He isn’t unable to walk upstairs to his room, but he simply can’t be bothered, and he doesn’t want his creaking stomps to wake Ellie, so he flops on the couch, boots and all.

In his drunken state, Joel squeezes his eyes shut and wills time to go back, so that when he wakes up, it’s yesterday morning, and he can do that all again, and do it right. In his head, he works out exactly what he’d say as something to convince time that it’s gonna go backwards for him.

From the moment I saw you, I swear to god I knew it. You were different. And ever since then you’ve only proven me right. I just adore everything about you. Now that you're in my life I can't imagine life without you because I don't want to. I want forever with you.

I have a hard time with love, I can't remember the last time I told someone I love them. Out loud, at least. I hope I've shown you I love you. But you need to hear me say it. I love you, I love you, I love you. I'll tell you every day. Every night, every morning, I'll tell you I love you.

Loving you feels like freedom, it’s like finally being able to fill my lungs all the way up with air. And it comes so naturally, feeling this way, and trying to show you. I can learn to say it. I'll learn to say it for you. Because I need you to know.

I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm scared to death, of all of it, of being in love in the first place. Scared to death. But it’s not going anywhere, and I never know when I'm gonna die, and I don't see the point in trying to push all this down because I don't know how long I have left to really, actually live, and loving is what makes living worth it. Love is the whole point. And I'll show you, I'll do everything I can to show you til the day I die, but if you tell me you love me I'll tell you back. So I'm telling you back. I love you.

Joel mouths the words ‘I love you’, trying to get a feel for them again, and falls asleep with them still in his mouth.

—

It takes you a long time to get out of bed once you wake, between the headache and the heartache and fear of facing the day.

Why go to breakfast? You probably won’t be able to keep it down anyway. Water sounds fantastic, though. So, finally, you drag yourself out of bed, keeping the blankets as a cloak, having apparently stripped completely nude at some point in the night.

Water was indeed a great idea. You feel it running through your brain, cooling and clearing. It doesn’t help anything else, though; last night still happened, your relationships are still ruined. Do you have anything going on today? Any reason you have to leave the house? No. Well, then, you won’t. Staying in bed all day sounds too depressing, so you go back to your room to slip on your biggest tshirt and your most comfortable pair of underwear. Your wrap your blankets back around yourself and they drag behind you down the stairs. With your trial, you feel like you must look like a slug.

To the couch it is. The bottle of wine from last night still sits on the coffee table. Day drinking crosses your mind, but it didn’t make anything better last night, so fuck that. You push the table away with your foot and slouch down as far as you comfortably can. You miss TV.

—

When Joel wakes up, there is a short pause before the grim memories of last night come back to him and he draws out a swear as he wipes his hand over his eyes, forces them to open and then himself to sit. The light of the windows in front of him stings his eyes and he stands up to turn away, his knees struggling hard, and rubs his pained neck. He is too old to be sleeping on couches like this. That’s fine, he deserves pain anyway.

The idea of going after you runs around in his head, hitting and spinning every other thought, and once again he’s lost. After a couple minutes of trying to figure something out, he thinks fuck it and heads for the front door.

It’s warm, wet, cloudy, and a short walk to your house, not allowing Joel enough time to give in to cold feet. He makes it up to your porch but gets stuck there at your front door.

What is he scared of? He knows you love him, he just needs to tell you he loves you too, and apologize, maybe on his knees.

The image of him being on his knees in front of you brings a new idea in his head—his hands on your thighs, your hands in his hair; he wonders how you sound when you moan, how you taste, how long it’d take him to make you cum. Joel tries to shake the thoughts out, taking a deep breath. That is not the task at hand. However, a new realization re-electrifies the ideas, which he’s had many times before, but now… if you love him… that means he might be able to actually find all that out.

This is not the time for that, Joel scolds himself.

He takes a deep breath. Shit, he forgot to figure out something to say. What was all that he had last night? All he remembers is how to say ‘I love you’. Shit. Joel takes another deep breath and starts practicing it again, barely audibly telling your front door ‘I love you’ over and over again.

In his focus, he does not notice any kind of sound or movement inside your house until the door opens.

—

Standing in front of you on your porch, Joel looks disoriented. You don’t know what tone to use to ask what he’s doing here so you say nothing.

“Can I come in?” He finally speaks.

You unthinkingly nod and stand aside to open the door for him.

Once shut, you turn to him and nervously pull at the hem of your shirt. You felt too stupid with those blankets on, so you abandoned them on the couch, but you probably should have put on more clothes before you opened the door. Should you excuse yourself, go upstairs to change, leave him down here?

Suddenly, you realize that things between you are awkward now, and it makes you want to cry.

“Alright.” Joel starts just in time, facing you with his hands on his hips. He still can’t meet your eyes. Is he here to scold you? Say ‘how dare you’? ‘You ruined everything’? ‘I’m leaving’? ‘You should leave’? Instead, he shocks you by saying “I’m sorry.” Then he slowly works his brow up to peer at you. You huff, flustered. He looks back down.

“Why?” You let out, small, and his eyes shoot back up to you. He raises his head up fully, looking at you square, and swallows hard.

There’s a pause. Neither of you look away.

“Last night. I fucked that up.” His voice is deep and uneven. Joel’s shoulders move with a deep breath, “Listen. I… shit.” He looks down, taps his toe on the floor. You cross your arms protectively over your chest. “I fucked that up. I’m sorry. That wasn’t… that didn’t… express what I wanted to… what I feel. I just get scared, y’know?” He looks at you, then back down. “I mean, you do know. But I, I realized that it doesn’t matter. That’s all bullshit. Cause here you are, and here I am, and… Jesus.” He shakes his head, then talks like he’s unleashing it, finally meeting your eyes, and you can see the earnestness in them, “Listen. I feel like I was always just waiting for you, I just didn't know it.” Joel’s gaze falters again. Then his voice is deeper, softer, quieter, and more melodic, “I dream about you. When I’m asleep and when I’m awake, an’ I think you’re the most beautiful thing. You’re js’ special. An’ I feel lucky that I met you, and I adore you. Everythin’ about you. An’ I don’t care what they say about sayin’ shit like this, cause you are perfect. An’ I gotta thank you for sayin’ somethin’ first cause I’m a fuckin’ coward, an’ I’m just sorry it took so long. You deserve more, you deserve to know every day. I know I… I just… even if it’s not… like that, I hope I show you how much I care about you.” Eyes focused firmly on the floor, Joel scuffs the toe of his boot. “I’d do anythin’ for you. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll go wherever you go, an’ I’ll get my shit together so I can tell you, every morning, every night, every time you tell me, that I love you. I love you.” Joel swallows hard and keeps his head down.

Chills run up and down you. Why do you feel like crying? He looks so sad and shy and you want to hold him up, raise his chin, straighten his posture to how it should be, head held high; you want him lying in bed like this so you can make him feel better with your mouth and your hands; you want to just hug him, feel him holding you, so warm, so protected, you want to be engulfed in him. You’re too far away. So you take two quiet steps towards him, stop, and then take one more. Two more steps and you’d be on him. He’s watching your bare feet as you approach.

Your voice is quiet and delicate when you ask, “So you love me?” and he finally looks up, slowly examining your body from the feet up and finally to your eyes.

“Yes.”

There's a pause, you take another half step, and ask, “Can you kiss me?”

The few seconds it takes for him to find his way to your lips last a very long time, and the moments once they actually meet can’t last long enough.

You let out a sigh as they do, losing touch with gravity a little, resting back in his arms wrapped around your back, preoccupied with his lips hard against yours, finally knowing them, finally tasting him; you want to drink him in, have him inside you in every way, a part of you. This first moment, you see as so, and appreciate all of the newness, the finally, finally, finally, finally.

He lets you pull off his layers until he’s only in a t-shirt, and you’re chilled over and over again in excitement and something else, whatever it is, you don’t care, all you care about is his arms almost bare, so thick and strong, his hands in places they’ve never been before, smoothing over your back, hooking around you, dragging over your front, over your stomach with a pressure that opens your mouth and furrows your brow. He pulls away then, only enough to be able to look at you, and his brow is relaxed in a way you’ve only seen hints of. He brushes one hand clumsily over your face, this thumb over your lips, and you angle your head down to catch it in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, looking him in the eyes. With a deep breath, Joel takes his hand away to kiss you instead, deep, wet, pressing your foreheads together, then slowly backs you all the way up against the wall. Then he drags himself down, keeping most of himself on you as he does, hands following your curves, chin or lips dragging down however they can, and then he’s on his knees.

Joel brushes his hands up and down the sides of thighs, then grips your hips. “Can I taste you?” He asks softly, big, puppy dog eyes looking up at you.

Frankly, you breathe out, “Yes.”

Joel takes a deep breath, first pressing kisses just above, then over your underwear with a pressure that makes you tingle just under it. He opens his mouth and drags it over you open, still over the fabric, with a heat that you know has you absolutely soaking already.

Still looking in your eyes, Joel hooks his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulls until they drop around your ankles. He bunches up your long t-shirt in a fist, lifting it up and resting it on your stomach, then he holds your hip firmly with his other hand, stabilizing himself as he moves his mouth in. Joel focuses, ready to finally show you what he can do for you, secretly smiling as he licks a line up with a flat tongue, proud when your chest jumps with a gasping moan. He repeats, kitten licking you, getting you nice and wet for him to take your clit into his mouth, forming around the sensitive tip to suck and massage with his tongue. Intense pleasure takes your breath away and as you gasp your nipples begin to feel more sensitive rubbing against your shirt and you let your hand smooth over your breast.

“Shit Joel, fuck,” you breath out, then lean your torso forward as you moan, and fall back as he releases your clit.

Joel moves his hand from your hip to under your thigh and lifts it, pressing the side against the wall, opening you up more for him. His head bobs as his tongue slides further in, licking a line straight from your hole up to under your clit, and then again, this time sharpening the tip of his tongue to lick under your clit until it flicks off. Your pussy craves it seemingly with a mind of its own, controlling you.

“Yes, Joel, fuck, just like that, oh my god,”

And so he repeats, the tip of his tongue continually stimulating the underside of your clit. When your hips turn up into him he lets his mouth shift down to swirl over your hole, his nose instead rubbing up and down the area above. Your moans are chocked, deep, and long, as you feel that pressure beginning to unwind inside of you. Knowing that it’s on him, you want to let go, give yourself to him, let him have you.

From your sounds, Joel can tell he’s closing in, but no way is he letting this last only a couple minutes. For one thing, he doesn’t want this to end, but he also wants you in ruins by the time he’s done. Joel swipes one more flat lick over the full length of your pussy and then pulls away, looking up at you. The tip of his nose shines with your wetness and he’s near out of breath.

“Not lettin’ you go that easy, darlin’, ain’t gott’n my fill yet.” He stands, pulling himself up using your arms, and is back in your mouth, no concern for how he’s licking your own cum into your mouth. You don’t really care either anyway, all you care about is how he’s on you. Arms wrapped to hold your stomach to his, you feel his strength again. In between kisses, Joel says, “I’ve been waitin’ so long to know how you taste. Waitin’ so long to make you feel good like that. You’re so fuckin’ sexy. You’re so beautiful. I wanna see you cum. I wanna make you cum with just my mouth. Just my mouth on your pussy.”

Sounds fucking good to me, you think, almost making yourself laugh, but don’t waste any time to speak so as not to take away from your tongue teeth and lips on his. Being connected to him like this feels so secure, so correct; the awkwardness that had scared you so bad has vanished and now you’re closer than ever before, in body, spirit, and mind.

Your lips allow you, “Do whatever you want with me.”

A line of saliva keeps you connected when Joel pulls away, both of your faces wet, mostly with you. His hands shift to your forearms, holding them to pull you as he walks backward, guiding you to sit you down on your couch. When you’re down he’s immediately back between your legs, grabbing your thigh to hold out, and you see his other reach to what must be down his pants. The idea of that, Joel stroking himself just under you, makes you feel hotter still and you moan as his tongue connects. He makes a sound and it vibrates through you and you grip his hair and let yourself fall back, your other hand used to stabilize you on the couch so that you can arch your back and watch him. As his tongue rolls over your opening, he peers up at you. The image of him here itself could be enough to push you over the edge. So many days admiring him, soaking up his beauty, and how many times have you touched yourself imagining something just like this?

Joel has the same thoughts going on in his head as he strokes himself rapidly. As much as he wants to feel himself all the way inside of you, as far as he’ll fit, and feel you squeeze around him, he’ll save that for you for another time. For now, he’s getting off just fine watching—making you get off.

“Joel, that feels so good,” you whine, he hums again and your hips jolt up.

Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours as all of his own movements become unsteady with the more pleasure he gives himself, his hand pumping up and down his full length. He’s never been this hungry in his life, and here you are to devour.

“Joel I know you’re touching yourself I wanna see you cum,”

“You first, darlin.” He says basically into you. He uses his tongue to tease your hole with swirling force, then licks up to your clit and sucks it. Keeping his focus there, he releases your thigh to utilize that hand to hook two fingers into you, then rocking them in and up.

As soon as he starts with this you know you’re done for, and when your face screws up and your hips roll, forcing him to follow you, he knows, too. Joel strokes himself faster, fed by the feeling of his fingers inside of you and this prizing view.

You hold your thigh up for him, your head is leaned back and eyes squeezed shut, triggered by pure pleasure. The pressure building inside of you is like a balloon that Joel repeatedly hits with his two hooked fingers and you feel yourself squeezing, and try not to squirm away as your body rolls closer and closer to overwhelming climax.

“Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel,”

As he comes close to finishing himself, Joel’s mouth opens wider, but he does what he can to keep you stimulated, closing it and moving his tongue all up and down wherever it can, and then he sucks, and his fingers land on your G spot and he rocks them and you’re cumming, loudly. Joel does not release, fighting through your writhing to pull you through your orgasm and with his last licks, he cums, and you shake as his moans vibrate through you.

You slow to a stop, Joel removes his fingers once your pussy releases them, and falls back to sit on the ground in front of you. His pants are undone but his boxers are up, hiding his dick but not the wetness of his cum in them. Shy, you lean forward to cover yourself with your hanging t-shirt. You’re both smiling like giddy kids, and you kiss again, unavoidably wet, but soft, slow, and sweet—appreciative. You keep your eyes closed for a moment when you pull away and he smiles watching you.

“Now what?”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere near noon.”

“You wanna go get lunch?”

You smile. “Alright. Just let me get dressed, I mean, I have to… clean myself up.” You chuckle shyly.

Joel stands, zipping his pants back up and redoing his belt. “Yeah, me too. Need a whole new pair a underwear. How bout I meet you back here? Won’t take long.”

“Alright.” You smile, reaching down to pull your underwear back up and stand, twisting your legs around each other.

Joel walks behind you to pick up his discarded layers and you watch him shamelessly use the inside of his coat to wipe down his face. When he looks up, he smirks slightly, looking you up and down, steps towards you and then leans in, “Gimmie some sugar.”

You smile and oblige, leaning in slow and taking his lips in yours. What was meant as some cheeky kiss turns soft, sweet, and sincere.

This is how things are now, you realize, you can kiss him, and he can fuck you, and you can go get lunch together.

“I love you.” You quickly add after you pull away.

“I love you, my beautiful girl.”

You beam, he basks in it.

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starrylayle · 3 months

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Marauders Fandom > "There is no canon !!" and other rhetorics

Guess who's back in their marauders phase after 2-3 years of being dormant lmao?? ((spoiler its me lol)). Anyways, a lot has changed since 2021 in this fandom so I just wanted to talk about the direction i think it's going.

I remember in 2020-21 the fandom started to boom in popularity on tiktok --> esp with the rise wolfstar + atyd. I remember people were so suprised with remus' characterization as 'rougher around the edges' instead of the 'soft boi' thing, and how that influenced the new wolfstar dynamic. [Just want to add that the atyd characterisation is much more complex than this and its one of my fave fics --> I'm more talking about the fandom at large's reaction to this)

And since fandom is incapable of having two nuanced and characters who are not stark opposites,, their roles were basically reversed and now Remus is the toxic dom alpha male and sirius is the cute girlyboy twink --- which um,,, the oc-ification is so real its embarrassing but whatever (omg don't even get me started on jegulus 💀)). I just assumed these would stay as headcanons. But now we have people saying, that 'we barely know anything abt the marauders in canon' or 'isn't the whole point of fandom to make shit up?' which i have sO many issues with so let me just try and compile my thoughts into dot points for the sake of coherency.

'we barely know anything abt the marauders in canon' ---> First of all, Remus, Sirius and Severus are fully fleshed out characters in the og series -- why do you think people would care enough to create an entire fandom based on their backstories if they were 2d flat characters in canon?? Like bffr. I saw a post on here (forgot who it was by, let me know if u know!) that said, 'I didn't cry over sirius' death in OotP just for ppl to say that we know nothing abt him in canon'. Like, its just mind-boggling to me lol.

'isn't the whole point of fandom to make shit up?' --> Ok y'all. For a fandom to work, there have to be some guidelines, some kind of source material, some point of reference so people can build upon it and make content. I think we can all agree on that. One reason why HP is such a popular place for fandom is the world-building and potential plots/storylines. I see some people argue that jk rowling was a shit writer anyways so might as well contradict everything she says. Now, I don't disagree with that point in particular, Jo is a pretty mediocre writer and a terrible person. HOWEVERrr, I'd argue that it is a lot more fascinating when people expand or work on the concepts in HP. JK Rowling has a lot of great ideas but executes them terribly -- I love when fic writes do this, which prolly explain why I love atyd as it is still very much canon compliant but executes themes on class, disability and queerness that jkr could barely do in subtext. This doesn''t mean I only think canon compliant fics are valid. That's not the case! I think as long as the charcterization is consistent to the character and the particular circumstances/world they're in, its fine! In fact, I love seeing how the same character would function if in a different place! I also love seeing explorations of the magic and magic systems in aus or fix it fics (or even canon compliant ones) that still fit in with the canonnical system that we know.

I guess what I'm trying to say I wish the marauders fandom explored the world and charcterizations more deeply instead of creating shallow oc-fied version of the characters that fit into whatever's trending -- like just write your own book or smth lol -- booktok will eat it up i promise.

Also, kinda related kinda not but um,,, why are we romanticising fascists -- like babe no evan rosier is not your babygirl he canonnoically tortured multiple ppl and became a death eater soo... not saying that I wouldn't want an exploration of his character or even a relationship with barty -- (who's not some cool dairk-haired edgelord but a actually a cowardly fascist murderer with blond hair -- yes the blond hair is important) -- I'd just want them to be portrayed as the not morally good people they are. Like,, if u want to oc-ify a character like pick someone whos not a death eater or has little info on them like dirk cresswell or frank longbottom,,, or ya know,, one of the MANY female characters in the fandom ((This fandom also has a problem with women and sapphic ships in general but that's a whole other issue lol).

I know this 'babygirlification' of death eaters doesn't mean to do this, but it also ends up watering down the themes of oppression, bigotry, etc and leaves us with not nearly as complex characters. Also one of the issues I had with the og HP world is that JK will introduce concepts like wizard racism and slavery and then just like,, not really do anything about it or just have half-arsed redemption arcs whilst not ever actually exploring the root of the issue. And now i feel like the fandom is following in those footsteps unfortunately.

Anyways, i've been rambling for too long so I'll just leave it here. Sorry if this came off as mean spirited in anyway,, I just have a lot of thoughts™ and my family is sick of hearing them lol. These opinions are not set in stone however so I'd love to hear your thoughts on this subject! At the end of the day this is fandom and we're supposed to have fun -- so yeah !! thanks for reading if you made it this far!

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