4. Hesh – More Than Just A Brother

𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚!

{𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙!} 𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙠𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙓 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧!

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨:𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

words: 1211

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐.𝙎. 𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙮, 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨. 𝘽𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚—𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨. 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙢, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙖𝙙𝙢𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩?

Logan walker:

when you first enter the kitchen for a coffee you found him there leaning against a counter looking at the floor

lord have mercy why am i nervous? that's what you thought and because of that you barely even said "yo" coming out of your mouth

Quietly nods at you in acknowledgment. He’s not much of a talker

Then while you are making coffee you will see him trying to put the spoon in the roaster.

"LOGAN DON'T!!"

The type to quietly pass you the ketchup before you even realize you need it and this made you go "oh. thanks!" and he go nodding

while you were eating you will find him organizing his food into sections on his plate like it’s a tactical map and hime looking like he is doing an art.

this made you more and more knowing he is so cute bye

you always thought because of his calm personality he may be Arrogant because he is elias's son i mean that is the first impressions

but guess what he offers to help you settle in by carrying your gear and that surprised you and made you look stupid and he looks dumbly at you when you're flushing

i can see him as a spending time he Loves card games and casually invites you to join him for a round of UNO.

He’s ridiculously good at bluffing, which makes sense given his silent demeanor.

He wins nearly every game, leaving you wondering if he’s secretly psychic.

Surprisingly, you were talking to each other while playing, which made you ask him in the middle of the discussion if he had ever had a partner before.

He looked at you with his dead eyes, making you wish you hadn't asked.

lmao that was just his regular look he shrugged looking at the card then spoke quietly "no...but hesh was the one who gets partners honestly" he actually started open up by saying "i mean i could but i didn't have time for that since dad used to train us" :(

HIS VOICE WAS SO COMFORT WHEN HE WAS TALKING AND YAPPING

after a hella of weeks with him he was in charge of training you, he is patient when helping you with drills. He doesn’t say much, but his feedback is always spot-on.

"You gotta stay still i can see your hips moving while you're shooting"

he sighed when you did this again "we are gonna have a looong time.." hesh said while smirking at logan who closed his eyes for connection with nature

Tries to be helpful but ends up accidentally making things harder. Like that one time he threw a training dummy at you during a reflex drill.

but you were too distracted by Riley barking in the corner and suddenly attacked him out of nowhere. You got tackled by the dummy.

You find him outside staring at the stars with Riley by his side. He doesn’t mind your company and even lets you pet Riley.

Surprisingly opens up during quiet nights. One time, while cleaning his gear, he shared a story about his dad teaching him how to fish as a kid. “I hated it at the time cause i fell unconsciously in the water, but now… I kinda miss it.”

It caught you off guard but made you appreciate how much depth there is to him.

Has a secret stash of snacks in the base, which you accidentally discover one night. He doesn’t get mad, just sighs and says, “You can have one. One.” he warned you👺

Starts inviting you whenever he go to the bar after a succeful mission with the team "i think it would be great if you come with us not sitting here in boredom".

LORD HAVE MERCY he shocked with a small smile in the bar while you were talking which made you think that mf smile like us?

he is so sweet but you can't see this since he is so straight to his tasks no jokes, no laughs thats what the ghosts are

Gives you a once-over, arms crossed, and deadpans, “ Another rookie. Try not to trip over yourself, yeah?”

he thought you won't go last here lol

and he thought it like that in the training “What are you doing? That’s not cover. That’s standing awkwardly behind a fucking barrel you gotta be fucking kidding me.” He’ll roast you relentlessly

but then show you exactly how to fix your mistakes, complete with sarcastic commentary.

"i bet you were shoved in lockers as a kid" you thought you got rid of merrick but kick is here

He’s the guy barking at you during obstacle courses, making sure you don’t slack off. “Move faster! You think the enemy’s gonna wait for you to climb a wall?”

even though you're doing your best he is just trying to wake you up by what he think

"the last soldier i was in charge of you made him look like a superhero to me"

Doesn’t pull punches—literally or figuratively. If you mess up during sparring, he’ll call you out. “C’mon, kid, is that all you got?”

But when you finally land a hit on him, he smirks and says, “Not bad. Don’t let it go to your head.”

and then he flips you on the floor like a burrito

Once you found him checking on the computer and it was clearly a report. "man shut up no one gives a darn about riley eating biscuit" hesh

"hey kick where i can find papers?"

"in the locker." he said simply then when you opened you were shocked by how many computers and keyboards in there "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WINDOWS 98?"

"yeah i can't throw that masterpiece" he said proudly smirking looking at you resting on his chair

"no DO NOT touch that retro keyboard unless I tell you to!"

once you found him Reads books like spy thrillers or military history during his free time.

He pretends not to care when you ask about them, but five minutes later, he’s explaining the entire plot of The Hunt for Red October with surprising enthusiasm.

Eats like it’s a mission. No small talk, just shovels food like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

He’ll occasionally toss a sarcastic comment your way, like, “You gonna finish that, or are you on a diet?”

Joins you in the common are He doesn’t say much at first but eventually opens up with a dry joke or two.

“If you think today was bad, wait until Merrick decides a mission Afghanistan. You’ll wish for combat drills.”

Doesn’t usually talk about himself, but when he does, it’s in the form of dry, understated remarks.

“I’ve seen worse places than this base. Like that time I got stuck in a swamp for two days. Don’t recommend it.” You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

letting you take the last slice of pizza during dinner. He doesn’t say anything just looking at you blankly

"..."

"..."

"ok have it"

you catch him smirking when you thank him. “Don’t get used to it.”

He’s the one who bluntly points out where you’re lacking. “Your reaction time is decent, but you’re slow on target acquisition. Fix that, or you’ll be a liability.”

My home

Homecoming

When a fic doesn’t fit my head canons but it’s well-written

Some super quick doodles! <3

I'm a good person now😍😍!

Plus new me won't write weird stuff😊

𓂃 ✧ 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔 ✦

𑁍 𓏲 ˚ ⋅ ❝ This blog is an archive for me, not seeking for notes. ❞ ⋅ ˚ 𓏲 𑁍

⌕ 𝐴𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝑒

╭─────────────── · · · ↳ 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝗘𝘀𝗿𝗮𝗮 ↳ 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔: 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳 ↳ 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆: I post Call of Duty: Ghosts, also in Call of Duty MW2, MW3, and MW4 (OG)—with COD WW2 and COD BO! ↳ 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔: 𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣! ╰─────────────── · · ·

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⌕ 𝑅𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈 & 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈

╭────────── ⋅ ⋅ ✦ 𝐼 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒: ﹒❥ Fluff & Soft Romance (wholesome, comforting, domestic moments etc...) ﹒❥ Light NSFW (suggestive themes, tension, but nothing explicit) ﹒❥ Angst (hurt/comfort, bittersweet moments, emotional depth) ﹒❥ Slice of Life (cozy everyday moments, lighthearted scenarios) ﹒❥ Fantasy & AU (alternate universes, magical elements, dreamy settings)

✦ 𝐼 𝒲𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒: ﹒✗ Heavy NSFW (explicit content, non-con, extreme kinks) ﹒✗ Harmful Topics (incest, abuse, unhealthy relationships)

✦ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: ﹒⟡ Send requests through asks/submissions ﹒⟡ Please specify character, prompt, gender and mood (fluff, angst, etc.) If you are not so specific about the gender of the reader or the situation (teammate, rom partner) imma ignore your request🙏🏻 ﹒⟡ Keep requests within my writing comfort zones! ╰────────── ⋅ ⋅

⌕ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 𝐼𝓃𝒻𝑜

╭─────────────── · · · ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's masterlist: my original works and requests. ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's requests: all request ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's asks: Answering my chat asks. ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's reblog: Posts i reblog. ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's past experience: Sharing my past experiences, from toxic and other not good stuff to warn you guys! you are deserved to be happy and safe. ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ random hcs: random hcs for cod univers. ╰─────────────── · · ·

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The way this happened to me so many times?, like im not a clingy but it is just i feel kinda unwanted and that's something i accept!

Imma that type of person that would try get close to person 3 times if i see no interest then i back up✊🏻.

what I think will happen if I message my mutuals

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Brush of brave

Hesh "david" walker X fem!reader! [requested!]

summary: You help your boyfriend, Hesh Walker, apply his ghost face paint before his mission, His soft smile warms your heart, thankful for your quiet support. In these moments, the world outside feels a little less intense, with only the two of you.

note: fluff

The morning was wrapped in an almost unsettling stillness, the kind that only exists in the quiet depths of 4 a.m. The air felt heavy with the weight of unsaid words and fleeting moments. You lay on your bed, eyes half-open, tracing the edges of shadows that danced across the ceiling of your dimly lit room. The faint golden glow from the bathroom spilled out into the hallway, like a quiet reminder of reality intruding upon your cocoon of comfort.

Your gaze lingered on that light, knowing it wasn’t just an empty room. It was him—Hesh. You could hear the faint shuffle of his movements, the metallic clink of his belt, the sound of water running briefly, all part of the rhythm of his early morning ritual. He was heading back to base. Two months of stolen time together had evaporated, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand, and now, here you were, at the end of it.

Your chest tightened, an ache you couldn't ignore. It wasn’t fair how quickly those days had flown.

You let out a soft tut, barely audible, as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the coolness of the floor against your feet grounding you for a fleeting moment. Your chest felt heavy, the ache of goodbye already gnawing at the edges of your resolve. Staying in bed, pretending to sleep, would only make it worse. If you didn’t say goodbye now, the regret would linger longer than the silence.

Quietly, you padded over to the bathroom door, the soft glow of light spilling over your features as you stopped just short of the threshold. There he was, Hesh, standing at the mirror, razor in hand, the sharp rasp of it cutting through the stillness as he worked on the other side of his face. He looked so calm, so methodical—an effortless confidence in the way he moved, even in these small, mundane moments.

For a moment, you just stood there, watching. The way his jaw tensed slightly as the blade glided over his skin, the faint shadow of a grin lingering at the corners of his mouth, as if he already knew you were there. And then, as though sensing the weight of your gaze, he glanced at you. His eyes met yours briefly before shifting back to the mirror, his shoulders rising and falling in a comfortable shrug.

“Sorry, babe,” he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with sleep and familiarity. “Didn’t mean to wake you up with the lights.”

It wasn’t the lights that woke you, but you didn’t correct him. You just stood there, taking him in, the ache in your chest softening for just a second as you realized how much you’d miss even this—the quiet, unassuming moments that made everything feel like home.

“Okay... I’m sad,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out with a simplicity that belied the heaviness in your heart. You stepped into the bathroom, drawn to him like a moth to the light, your arms folding loosely across your chest. Hesh paused mid-motion, his razor hovering just above the sink, as a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“Being greedy, are you?” he teased, that familiar hint of arrogance lacing his voice. His words held no malice, only the playful pride he carried so effortlessly. “Should’ve spent more time with me.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing. You were used to the way he spoke, like every moment spent with him was a privilege you were lucky to claim. And maybe it was. It was infuriating and endearing all at once, a balance only he could manage.

Your gaze flicked to his reflection in the mirror, catching the faint stubble he had left untouched. “Your hair’s growing...” you remarked, your tone a mix of teasing and warning. “Don’t you dare do something to it.”

That made him chuckle, the sound deep and rich like a ripple of warmth cutting through the cool morning air. His dripping voice, as you liked to think of it, had that velvety quality that always left you both annoyed and utterly charmed.

He turned his attention back to the counter, The familiar black-and-white paint sat nearby, and you watched as he began preparing it with practiced ease. The ghost mask, a part of him as much as his smile, stood silently between you, its empty eyes staring back like a reminder of what was coming.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him work. The way his hands moved—steady, confident, and unhurried—was mesmerizing. You hated how much you loved these moments, hated how fleeting they always felt. But you stayed anyway, soaking it in, because for now, he was still here. And for now, that was enough.

Hesh glanced at the paintings for a moment, then at the black-and-white paint pots resting neatly on the counter. He dipped his finger into one, smudging a streak of white across his palm as if testing its consistency. Then, without looking up, his voice rolled out, smooth and sure of itself.

“You know,” he started, the edge of his mouth quirking into a faint smirk as he glanced at you through the mirror, “I’ve been thinking…” His tone carried that familiar weight of ego, teasing but not overbearing, as if he already knew what your answer would be. “You should do it.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

He turned then, leaning casually against the counter, his arms folding over his chest. “Paint my face. For the mask.” His gaze was steady, soft in a way that caught you off guard, even as his words carried that trademark Hesh pride. “I mean, you’re always going on about how good you are with details. Might as well prove it.”

You stared at him, unsured to be flattered. He had a way of doing that—threading arrogance with a strange kind of tenderness that always left you guessing. “Oh, so now I’m your artist?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, low and rich, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Why not? I trust you not to mess it up,” he said, and then after a beat, his voice softened. “Besides… it’d feel good knowing you put something of yourself into it. Something I can carry with me.”

The shift in his tone caught you off guard. It wasn’t just an offer—it was a quiet, unspoken connection. A way of bringing you with him, even when he couldn’t be here. And just like that, his arrogance melted into something warmer, something that made your chest ache in the best way.

You couldn’t help but smile, a small curve of your lips that betrayed the bittersweet feeling lingering in your chest. You stepped closer to him, the warmth of his presence drawing you in. Hesh leaned back slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the sink, watching you with that easy confidence that always made him seem larger than life. His smile wasn’t forced or calculated—no, it was real, genuine. But there was no mistaking the pride that radiated from him. He was the kind of man who wore leadership like a second skin, born to carry the weight of it.

“I don’t even remember the details of your mask,” you teased, letting your fingers hover near the paints laid out on the counter. Your words carried a playful jab, though your gaze lingered on him, cataloging every inch of his face as if to disprove your own claim. The strength in his jaw, the faint lines near his mouth from all the smirks he wore like a badge, the way his dark eyes softened just enough when they met yours. You couldn’t help but notice the details now, even if you tried not to.

Hesh’s grin widened slightly, that self-assured look of his making an appearance. “Then I guess you’ve got some work to do,” he said, his voice low, dipping into that teasing, velvety tone that always got under your skin in the worst—and best—ways. “Just don’t get distracted, hm?.” he said propping a peck on your temple.

reached for the black paint anyway, dipping your fingers in hesitantly. The cool, slick texture made you wince, and you held up your hand with mock horror. “Ah, I’m gonna dirt myself,” you muttered, glancing up at him.

Hesh chuckled, that deep, effortless sound that always seemed to ground you. “Takes a little mess to make something worth keeping,” he said, his gaze unwavering, the faintest glint of warmth hidden beneath his usual pride.

You shook your head, biting back a smile, but as you reached for his face, you felt the strange, comforting weight of his trust. For all his pride and ego, in this moment, he was letting you leave your mark—literally and figuratively. And that, more than anything, was enough to make you steady your hand and begin.

Hesh glanced at his reflection in the mirror again, turning his head slightly to admire your work. The black and white patterns of the ghost mask were sharp and clean, perfectly crafted, but his attention quickly shifted back to you. He turned fully now, leaning one shoulder against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest as he gazed at you.

“You’ve got some talent, you know that?” he said, his tone carrying that faint teasing lilt. “You might’ve just made me look even better.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his arrogance, but the warmth in his gaze kept your irritation at bay. “Oh, please. The mask is doing all the work,” you shot back, wiping your paint-streaked hands on the towel nearby. “I’m just the artist. The rest is up to you.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was committing every detail of your face to memory—the curve of your lips, the way your hair fell slightly out of place, the gentle crease of your brow as you avoided his intense gaze.

“You know,” he started, his voice soft now, deeper, “I don’t say this often, but... I’m gonna miss this. You. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard. You blinked, looking up at him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his tone. “You don’t have to say it like that,” you whispered. “Like you’re not coming back!”

His expression softened even further, and he took a small step closer, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, brushing lightly against your cheek. “I’ll come back. I always do,” he murmured, his voice steady, reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to leave.”

You felt your throat tighten, emotions threatening to spill over. But before you could say anything, he leaned in, closing the small distance between you. His movements were slow, deliberate, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t.

His lips met yours gently, softly at first, like he was testing the waters. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there with a tender firmness, and you couldn’t help but melt into him. The kiss deepened, unhurried but filled with all the emotions neither of you could put into words—the longing, the sadness, the love.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed for a moment before he opened them to look at you again. “That’s for when I’m gone,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So you don’t forget.”

You smiled through the ache in your chest, your hand brushing against his jaw where the paint hadn’t touched. “As if I ever could.”

Why Do Some Characters Feel “Off” in Fics?

Ever read a fic and thought, “They would never say that,” or “That’s not them”? It’s a common reaction, but let’s break down why it happens.

When you read multiple fics, you start to see patterns in how a character is written—their speech, personality, and habits tend to be portrayed a certain way across different writers. Over time, your brain builds an expectation of how they should act, and you will go like "I know them now".

But when you come across a fic where the character behaves differently—maybe they speak in a way you’re not used to, or their personality shifts even slightly—it feels wrong. Your brain detects the inconsistency and reacts with, “This isn’t accurate.”

But here’s the truth: no one truly knows the character they are fictional honey. Not you, not the writer. We all take what we see—canon material, dialogue, actions in movies, games and series—then interpret it differently. Fanfics aren’t about replicating a character 100% accurately; they’re about adapting them into different scenarios, tropes, and perspectives.

So instead of saying, “They’d never do that,” remember that every fic is just one version of a character. Different interpretations don’t mean they’re wrong—they’re just slightly new to you so whether you get used to it or leave the fic and not teaching the writer how to write the character XD

It’s totally fine to have opinions on how a character is written in fanfiction. Maybe a fic doesn’t match how you personally see them, or the way they talk feels different from what you’re used to. That’s normal! But there’s a difference between discussing these thoughts and going into a writer’s comments or asks just to tell them they’re “wrong.”

At the end of the day, fanfiction is interpretation. No one has an exact rulebook on how a character should act outside of canon, and even canon itself can be inconsistent. Writers take what they see and shape it into their own version. That’s the point of transformative work.

If a fic’s portrayal doesn’t sit right with you, the best thing to do is simple: move on. No one’s forcing you to read something you don’t like, and it’s not a life-or-death situation. Just scroll past, find another fic, and continue enjoying fandom in a way that makes you happy.

Constructive discussion? Great. Telling a writer how to “properly” write a character? Not so much. Let people write what they enjoy If they didn't hurt anyone :)

Let me know if u have another opinions today i feel the urge to discuss lol.

YO WATCH OUT WATCH OUT