#(I mean he’s really not in it for money very much)

[asha-mage]

🌶️

The MCU's Spiderman is not a poor execution of Peter Parker's character concept. He's not even poor execution of Miles Morales's character concept.

He is a poor execution of Terry McGinnis's character concept.

Peter Parker and Miles Morales both have so many fundamental pieces to their characters that are just missing for the MCU's Spiderman. Familiar names are floating around him- Aunt May, Mary Jane, Ganke Lee- but the fundamental ideas that make up Peter or Miles arcs just are not there. Themes like Miles's family expectations, Peter's constant money struggles, and the balancing act of doing good vs trying to live your own life are all absent. Even the idea of power and responsibility isn't properly introduced until the THIRD MOVIE when that really should been the central theme from the beginning.

Rather the MCU Spiderman has way more parallels with Terry McGinnis. Both are young hot shot teenagers who end up being taken under the wing of established and experienced hero who is on their way out. Both have complex relationships with their mentor which in a lot of ways serves as the driving force of their character arcs. Both gain high tech suits which enable their heroism. Both are viewed (or at least supposed to be viewed in MCU Peter's case) as heirs to the legacy of this hero.

It falls apart when you get into how they are different. While Uncle Ben is implied to have existed and be dead by the time MCU Peter is introduced in Civil War it's never actually confirmed and never properly comes up. Meanwhile the death of Terry's father is essentially the inciting incident of Batman Beyond: it's what motivates and drives Terry and the murder and it's fallout are the main focus of the first two episodes of Batman Beyond.

What's more MCU Peter's relationship to Tony is grounded in the fact that Tony just shows up one day and essentially taps him to join the Avengers. Bruce by contrast initially tosses Terry out on his ear, and when Terry turns up seeking justice for his father Bruce can't offer him anything but 'go ask the cops for help', and when that goes exactly as poorly as Terry said it would, Terry breaks into the manor steals the Batsuit and goes to stop Powers himself. Terry has active agency in his own choice to be a hero, which helps define his relationship with Bruce and to heroism. While MCU Peter was doing his own superheroics prior to Tony showing up in Civil War (not that he ever does much of that in future movies) his relationship to Tony is defined by Peter's dependence on him and his quest for Tony(/the Avengers)'s approval. And because they don't even bother name drop Uncle Ben or flashback to him, we're left with the impression that the main thing driving MCU Peter is that quest for approval. His motivations are never more complexly explored, and we don't even really see him just running around Queens stopping muggings or car crashes or anything that hints he enjoys or feels the need to actually help people.

And I think that gets into the final and most important difference between the two. Gotham not only needs Batman, it visibly and obviously and terribly needs Batman. Batman Beyond leans into this because decades without a Batman have left Gotham a cyperbunk dystopian hellscape. The city needs someone to stand up to the darkness, to be a symbol of hope, to be aspirational. Terry taking up that mantel means fighting supervillains, yes- but mostly it means doing what the original Batman did. Solving murders, stopping muggings, rescuing people from burning buildings or fighting off street gangs like the Jokerz.

But even in the earliest MCU movies, New York only needs superheroes when the current world ending threat shows up. Otherwise the city is all bright shinny clean streets filled with haplessly content citizens. This is the only reason that Vision's position of 'Our very strength invites challenge' argument in Civil War makes any sense- because the only purpose of these Superheroes is usually to fight a threat they where somehow responsible for creating. And this problem hits 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman' the hardest because he only has a responsibility to use his great power to solve problems, if their are problems in need of solving. Most of Peter Parker's (and Miles Morales's, Gwen Stacy's, or any other Spiderperson's) day is not fighting alien armies or netherworld gods. It's stopping break ins, rescuing people from fires, or other small scale local threats, that none the less benefit from someone with his abilities to make them better. Either New York in the MCU is an ideal utopian city where the police have everything handled apparently (which ha) or Peter is apparently not interested in stopping bad things from happening. He spends so much of the first movie basically begging Tony to give him superhero things to do, not realizing that he could go outside and find people that need help on his own.

In conclusion MCU Peter Parker isn't 'regular Peter Parker but not an underdog', or even 'Miles Morales but white'. He's 'Terry McGinnis but without any agency in his own heroism'.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

im clawing at the bars of my inclosure for wolverine headcanons please please go crazy do whatever you want cause i am consuming content at the rate of a black hole and i love ur stuff but if you are in need of some guidance or ideas how about non sexual intimacy cause i go crazy(er) for that

This can be about any Logan really, and it should be gender neutral <3 I hope you like it!

As always request are open for both Logan and Bucky Barnes

Ways Logan shows love:

He is very much an acts of service type of guy

Words are hard for him sometimes, but doing things for people he cares about is a breeze

He does things that are so simple but really show that he loves you. Things like pumping your gas for you or driving you around. People drive crazy and you shouldn't have to risk your life to just get to the grocery it's no trouble at all for him to take you

Honestly, it's no trouble for him to do anything for you

Omg and he is skilled in many things! I mean he's lived many different lives and has tried many different hobbies and trades so he can do almost anything for you

You need a new bookshelf? He'll build you one from scratch

You're so busy you don't have time to make dinner? He'll bring you your favorite food in exchange of your books and laptop, you need a break anyways

Your water heater broke? Well obviously, he can fix it why waste the money on a plumber!?

He does begin to enjoy physical touch if that is one of your love languages. It doesn't have to be intimate, and honestly, after a while, intimate touch isn't what he seeks out. He enjoys knowing you're near. If you're near him, then you're safe

In the beginning he would flinch when you tried to cuddle, then after a few months he would wait for you to initiate the cuddle session that he grew fond of but after around six months of being together he starts to get more comfortable with asking for cuddles

Forehead kisses are his favorite. So are the kisses he leaves on the very top of your head

He was so used to changing himself to become whatever the people around him needed him to be, but with you, he figured out quickly that you just loved him. You loved Logan, not the Wolverine. After he figured this out, he started to allow himself to let walls down, to let you in, and he never regretted that decision

He would let you practice your hobbies on him. You wanted to practice a new type of eyeshadow look? He can sit still for you, no problem. You want to try a new recipe? He'll try whatever you make him happily

If you had a presentation at work or for a class, he would sit and listen to you go through it for hours until you felt prepared

Following that idea, he would listen to you talk about anything for hours. He loves hearing the gossip you've collected and if you need to rant, he will listen and tell you that you were right (even if you were so clearly wrong) because you do no wrong in his eyes

He praises you constantly! Like I said, you do no wrong. To him, you are an angel, and he truly believes that you can accomplish absolutely anything in your life

Overall, he just wants to make your life easier. You make him so happy, and you've become such a light in his life. Doing things for you is the least he could do

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

@slowlikehoneyyy

@brisinggamenwearer

[lesbikaiser]

hi hiiiii can i pls request reo losing the NNN? istg my purple haired rich boy needs more love >< thank u sm!!

hiii hiii my lovely! im glad to be feeding reo stans, he deserves it and so do y'all!

i almost forgot that nnn posts are supposed to be made in november and started writing this one like three days ago or so, i really hope you like it ><

mikage reo who engages in no nut november because he needs to prove you wrong. how dare you say he wouldn't make it to the end because he's used to "getting anything he wants." not that you're wrong though, but what does that even mean? he can't see any connections between having purchasing power and... cumming?

well, he could not see it, not until now. but it's as clear as day for him now that he's knuckles deep inside you, having your pretty body sprawled on his lap as you moan so perfectly against his chest, desperately riding his fingers like your life depends on it as you try and chase your high. it makes all sense in his head now, because watching you makes him so hard, throbbing dick bulging his shorts and the pre-cum leaking from his tip leaving a wet spot on his boxers. god, he would pay any amount of money to be let cum right now.

shit, it's been not even a week since you challenged him.

"reo– oh, reo! reo, reo, reo–! " it does nothing to help him how you call out for him so sweetly, his name like a mantra on your tongue, clammy hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life as your walls clamp down on his fingers, slick all over his palm and lap as your cute, needy cunt makes a mess on him, the way you look up at his face with big, doe eyes and fat tears pricking the corner of them really turns him on, his cock jumping and twitching at the sight.

he wants to fuck you so bad.

"gonna cum, reo–reo! please don't stop, reo..." your voice is high-pitched, thighs trembling around his wrist as your moans only get higher, needier, mixing with the squelching sound your pussy makes every time he plunges his fingers into your hole, reaching so deep and hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

why did he agree to finger you, again? surely he wouldn't be able to watch you falling apart for him without letting it get to him, he knows how much control you have over his body, so why is he doing it? did he really think he could take it?

but how could he ever say no to you when you asked him so prettily to 'please make you cum', with that sweet voice of yours? of course, that's why he agreed. he loves to spoil you.

he watches the way your greedy cunt swallows his fingers in, gripping onto them whenever he slightly pulls out to shove back into you, he can see the way they shine with your arousal, you're so damn wet, he bets he could easily slip his dick into that cute pussy of yours, he could be fucking and creampie-ing you right now and you could be moaning so louder, he would fuck you till you get too dumb to speak, only babbles coming from those pretty lips of yours, too fucked out to even think straight, the only thing in your head being his name...

he can feel his balls tightening at the thought, his body heating up and dick oozing more pre-cum from the tip, his boner is very obvious now and he knows you're too lost in pleasure when you don't notice how his cock is literally poking against your inner thigh, otherwise you'd have already teased him for being so hard when all he's doing is finger fuck you.

but how can he help it? you're definitely a sight to see, tits spilling from your small tank top with the way you arch your back, hips moving back and forth against reo's hand and your own fingers grabbing at anything they can – be it his sleeves, collar or just his shirt at all. he can feel your toes curling atop his thighs, and the outline of your nipples is very clear on the fabric of your clothing when you push your chest towards reo, lips parting to let out the prettiest moans.

he's mesmerized by the shape of your mouth, how your lips are a shade darker than usual because of the way you've been biting onto them, slightly swollen and so inviting, he feels like it's been ages since he last kissed you even though it was just a few minutes ago, he wants to feel your tongue against his, taste your spit mixed with his own. and it's like you've read his mind when you lean against him, arms draping over his shoulders as one of your hands fist his hair, the other caressing his nape so affectionately, he can practically see the heart-shaped orbs in your eyes as you stare at him, noses touching before you press your lips against his.

your tongue nudges his bottom lip before delving itself into his mouth, sliding against his own as you kiss him messily, spit running down both of your chins and your needy whimpers being swallowed by reo, teeth clashing a little due to how sloppy the kiss is.

he can't hold back a groan when you press your body further against his, unconsciously humping your thigh on his over-sensitive dick, his arm looping around your waist to bring you closer to him as his fingers work at a furious pace now, slick gushing out of your cunt and spilling everywhere, staining both of your clothes and it makes you roll your eyes when he curls his digits inside you, soft, warm palm touching your denied clit pushing you over the edge.

"mmph–! " your orgasm hits you like a train, electric waves shooting through your veins making your whole body writhe in reo's grasp, head thrown back and mouth agape with no sound coming out before you lean forward, resting your head on your boyfriend's shoulder as he helps you ride out your high, hand on your hair caressing your strands. you whine at the sudden emptiness in your insides when he pulls his fingers out of your sensitive cunt, slurred words leaving your lips. "love you, reo..."

you say it at the same time he pushes his digits into his mouth, tasting the residues of your cum on them, and that's his last straw. how you whisper so drunkenly against his ear, followed by a wet kiss on his neck and a cute whimper, your taste is so good on his tongue it makes him roll his eyes back, his dick twitches uncontrollably inside his shorts, load bursting on his boxers and soaking everything. he cums untouched, moaning pathetically onto your hair as his orgasm washes over him, not as strong as yours but enough to make his mind blank for a second.

you're too lost in reo's scent to notice anything, basking in the afterglow of your climax and breathing in his cologne, not really seeing the moment he comes down from his high and regains his senses. you giggle when he flips you both over, pinning your spent body down to the couch as his knees force your legs apart. a dumb smile stretches your cheeks when you bring his face closer to yours, arms still around his neck as you kiss him again.

this time though, it's him who shoves his tongue past your lips, licking at your mouth and stealing your breath as he devours you, you whine when your brain registers the taste of your cum, one of reo's hands gripping your thigh as the other pull his shorts down along with his underwear. it's only when you feel his slicked tip nudging your sensitive little clit that you open your eyes, breaking the kiss as you look confused at him. gazing down, you notice his shaft covered in an opaque, white liquid, as it sticks to your folds now that he's sliding his dick through them.

"reo?" the look on your face is priceless. the way your brows knit together, eyes slightly wide and a pout on your lips as you stare at his smirk, voice small when you call out his name. "did you– you came just from fingering me?"

he slaps his tip against your clit, smirk only getting wider when you yelp his name, hips writhing in his hold. "r–reo! what're you doing?" he doesn't even spare a glare at you, aligning his dick with your entrance as he watches your hole fluttering and clenching around his cockhead, desperate to be filled.

"it's already over for me, isn't it? so why not indulge in my wishes anyway? after all, i do get everything i want..." his purple eyes finally lock with yours, they're darker than usual and carry a hungriness you rarely see in them, you can tell how pent-up reo is from not being allowed to cum for the past days.

"and right now, my love, i wanna fuck that perfect pussy of yours."

[puzzled-pegasus]

So you know that running joke on the Argo II about how Percy eats so much and from everyone else's POV it's seen as quirky or unusual? It's quite possible that his open enthusiasm about food is weird to the others because he's actually the only one who's normal/healthy abt food.

Think about it. Leo's been through food insecurity and he may have issues with it because of the way his body looks. He's also a workaholic and generally probably doesn't really have a very good sense of when or what he needs to eat to feel better. Annabeth might be similar, not being able to sense her hunger cues very well because of Trauma (TM) and the way she gets sucked into her hyperfixations.

Piper and Frank might both be conscious about their weight, Piper because of bullying and her Hollywood environment and Frank because he's always been so big naturally and his grandmother probably verbally abused the hell out of him for his weight.

I think Jason skips meals as a form of self-punishment if he doesn't feel like he's earned it. He also wants to make sure everyone else on his team has had what they want to eat before he gets to have any.

Hazel straight up lived in the depression, so food was probably rationed. She was also a girl in the 40s and body shaming was on a whole other level of ridiculous back then so I can't blame her for feeling like she needs to restrict for a few reasons.

And then there's Percy, whose mother did the best she could to make sure her son had a healthy relationship with eating and food. She didn't always have money, but she showed her love through food and treats as much as she could and together they created their blue food tradition. This means that Percy now is excited about food and can probably better measure his hunger cues than anyone else on that ship. This is a good thing not only for him, but if he shows confidence in the way he eats what he likes until he's satisfied and stops when he's full, it might give his friends social cues that they're allowed to eat like he does.

Percy, of course, would be happy to know he's helping them...but right now, he's too excited about those pancakes.

@manygeese @just-call-mefr1es @monarch-of-weird-girlboy-nation @jasonisntboring @erosjournal

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Villains: Ranked By How Much You Could Trust Them To Babysit Your Child

As requested by anon. :)

You need a babysitter for your kid, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, you can only entrust your child to a Cosmere villain. But fear not: this list will aid you by ranking how much you could trust said villains with your precious child.

[Big Spoilers for villain actions throughout! I'd steer clear of any characters from book series you haven't yet finished. However, there is nothing from Wind & Truth previews]

1. Taravangain [Stormlight]: Your child has...slightly better than even odds of being fine

Taravangian is one of the few villains who actually did order a group of children be put to death--remember when he was highly "intelligent" but the child choir was bugging him so he ordered that they all be killed? Not great credentials for a babysitter! On the other hand, his subordinates did talk him out of child murder, and presumably his subordinates would also be there with your child. So your kid probably wouldn't be executed by royal order!

...But I'd maybe stay away from Taravangian.

2. Miles [Mistborn Era 2]: Not the worst choice

If I remember Miles correctly (and I hope so, because I'm not really checking), he's the sort of villain who would have been one of the protagonists in Mistborn Era 1. I mean, his whole thing is that he wants to do what's right and stand up for the downtrodden through loads of murder, which--good resume for Kelsier's crew, am I right? I think your child would probably be fine--seems pretty safe to be strapped in a baby harness against the chest of an unkillable dude. Let's just hope he's not being fired upon by like seventy constables while babysitting.

...Maybe ask him to stay in your house for the job.

3. Hrathen [Elantris]: Are you willing to convert?

I believe Hrathen would actually take very good care of your child. He's a competent guy and doesn't want to cause any harm for harm's sake. On the other hand, you probably won't be paying him money--rather, I'm guessing he's gonna ask you to convert before he'll agree to watch your child.

So: Pros: You child is safe and healthy. Cons: You're a follower of Jaddeth now.

4. Crow [Tress of the Emerald Sea]: Not worth the price

The moment Crow has your kid, she's 100% blackmailing you into committing murder. That's just her MO. You're better off paying your neighbor kid $20 at that point.

5. The Sorceress [Tress of the Emerald Sea]: Uh...her literal thing is kidnapping

Come on, the Sorceress only knows how to do three things: kidnap people, curse people, and build hugely phallic rocket ships disguised as towers. I'm assuming you don't want your child to be kidnapped, cursed, or taught that all tall buildings should be inherently phallic. I'd steer clear of the Sorceress.

6. Odium, original vessel [Stormlight]: Pretty good choice!

What's promising about original-flavor Odium is that he likes to make agreements and will not only keep that agreement but also adhere to its spirit. All you need to do is get Odium to agree to keep your child safe, and Odium will do that!

Now, will Odium ask for something in return? Naturally. Will it be more than a cool $20? Yeah. And will your child be returned to you spouting some nonsense about how they must abandon all negative passions and become unchained? Well, yeah, but they're five. You can probably distract them with some Boo's Clues and they'll forget all about Odium's brainwashing.

All in all, not a terrible choice!

7. Odium, [spoiler-y] vessel [Stormlight]: Well...are you a really good lawyer?

Odium as represented by his new vessel will also keep to the babysitting contract--exactly as written and no further, loopholes fully exploited. So unless you can write an ironclad babysitting contract, you may return to find that sure, your child is physically safe, but they're now the face of a shady baby food company being used to smuggle exotic car parts across state lines. And nobody wants that.

8. Denth & Tonk Fah [Warbreaker]: Take them at their word

Denth & Tonk Fah will definitely tell you that, as mercenaries, they can't be trusted with a small child. Denth will say this in such an offhanded and charming way that you will definitely feel compelled to tell them, "Don't be silly! I know my child will be safe with you two."

Don't do it. Your child will NOT be safe.

Keep looking.

9. Telsin [Mistborn Era 2]: Not a great idea

Best-case scenario, being a good babysitter is somehow an important skill to Autonomy, in which case Telsin will in fact give it her all. You'll come back from your dinner & movie to find that your baby has a Harvard PhD and is mayor of a small town.

But more likely than not, if Telsin wants to watch your child, then she has nefarious plans that involve murder and world domination, and that's probably not the future you want for junior.

10. Straff [Mistborn Era 1]: No

Hahahahaha no.

Just no.

11. Lord Ruler [Mistborn Era 1]: Will immediately hand your kid off to his subordinates

The Lord Ruler is not gonna babysit your kid. He's gonna hand that child off immediately to his subordinates, the obligators. Your best-case is that the obligators also hand your child off to their subordinates, all the way down until your child ends up with a skaa servant who actually has some semblance of human love still in their heart. Worst-case, you find your child sitting on a dusty floor playing with spikes you hope are just rusty.

I'd recommend choosing a different babysitter.

12. Moash [Stormlight]: Not worth the risk

It's not like Moash is just evil for evil's sake or anything, but we know he doesn't have an issue killing innocents (RIP Teft) and he is currently trying to suppress his conscience wholesale. Now, if your child cannot be used in any schemes, I don't think Moash will hurt them for no reason. But if they CAN be used for schemes, then your child might be dropped off a tall tower to distract Kaladin or something. Best-case scenario, your child is returned to you safe & sound but has been given an Evil Baby Makeover (exactly the same outfit as before but it's black now).

I just don't think its worth the risk.

...Evil Baby Makeover might be kinda cute, though.

[animeyanderelover]

Dear lord above, I at least want to write something today but with the little energy I have I do not want to publish something that was requested and write it with less motivation so just have those quick Hc's.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, blackmailing, threats, violence, disrespect, overprotective behavior, abduction, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Fushiguro Toji Hc's

🪱​Toji for me is very interesting to view because he has been pushed to a point beyond return and he himself has embraced this fact already years ago. He just doesn't care about anything anymore. His wife was his only hope but even that has been taken away from him and with her death any chance for him to ever be a decent man has passed away too. For Toji you are no saving grace. How could you be when what he is feeling for you is so much more twisted than what he was feeling for his dead wife? As irresponsible and neglectful of other lovers and even his own child he is, Toji is actually very perceptive of his own emotions as soon as he realises that there is something brooding within him. His wife made him want to change and be a better person for her. That simply isn't the case with you. When Toji looks at you he only feels that primal desire to keep you to himself and to murder anyone who even attempts to get in his way. With no morals he feels like he has to uphold back and with nothing to lose either he willingly walks into the hurricane of his growing obsession. He wants it that way. Because whether he is going to admit it or not, those feelings make him feel alive.

🪱​Unashamed and direct, Toji is everything but subtle to express that he wants you. From the very first day he is suffocatingly possessive of you and aggressive and rude about it. He easily tracks you down via your odor as his experience of being an assassin really are more than just useful and overall just frightful for you. Honestly, he doesn't plan to woo you. He just wants you to be his and he doesn't expect to care about what you think. Initially that is indeed the case. That is until he discovers that underneath all that possessive greed other feelings for you start budding. Tender feelings which remind him of the emotions he had for his previous wife. He does care after all. Subtle changes happen only then but only when it involves you. He still continues his job of assassinating people as long as it earns him his money and he still doesn't give a shit about people overall. He doesn't have the capacity to do that. The only one spared from the blatant disrespect and rudeness he expresses to his surroundings is you. It's all he finds himself capable of. Better for only you, still the same asshole and ruthless murderer to everyone else. That should be more than enough for him.

🪱​Jealousy is not a word that Toji would use to ever describe himself. It isn't a word that you would use to describe him with either. Overly possessive is a description much more fitting for a man like him and it is indeed his raging possessive emotions for you that reign predominantly whenever he catches sight of someone else with you. However, he is no grown manchild who barges in the moment he spots such a sight as long as the interaction has a practical function like you buying something and asking for advice or taking care of other business. What Toji hates though is idle chatter with no bigger meaning behind it all and that is when he always interrupts the conversations and pushes you away. His enhanced senses give him the advantage of being able to tell when there is a case of someone liking you a bit too much and then everything is over. No matter what you do, the other individual always gets hurt and the best thing you manage to do is have Toji tone down his violent response to the point where no bones are broken and only a few large and throbbing bruises serve as a reminder for the next few weeks. It's no surprise that you never see the face of such people ever again.

🪱​Toji has confessed to you what he is doing to earn his money as he doesn't even bother to paint himself as the good guy. This is just who he is and how he does things and it only leads to you fretting from a very early stage on for everyone. He's made it clear to you that he is not going to ever murder you but everyone else is a free game and it is this fear that Toji uses to keep you on a leash if he senses that you have rebellious thoughts. He has absolutely no problems assassinating whoever is a thorn in his eyes but that doesn't mean that he brags about it in front of you. There seems to be some semblance of decency that he relearns as soon as he starts living with you and this is one of them. It's such a casual routine for him that it might even happen that he brutally taunts someone, swiftly ends their pathetic life afterwards and then brings some takeout back home for you and him. Still, if someone from your surroundings suddenly disappears you always know whose doing it is. He never confirms it verbally to you but sometimes his green eyes give you that look that have you quickly shut up. You've learned to know what it means. 'Careful now or someone else will be next.'

🪱​You're already stuck in a relationship with him long before he has abducted you but at that point you already know that this outcome is inevitable. However, despite all the shit you have grown through at that point already you still manage to be mildly flabbergasted when he one day drags you to the place the two of you will live in together from now on. It's a decently sized apartment and whilst the kitchen has already been littered with cups of instant ramen it is much cleaner than you expected. You find out soon after that this place has actually only been recently purchased by him and that's how you find out that he's basically been living in the houses of other woman or hotel rooms before he met you. He's literally telling you that he's been homeless before he decided to live together with you, realising that you shouldn't have to adapt to his previous lifestyle. He doesn't expect you to act like a housewife and keep the apartment clean though. By all means, you can litter too if you want to as he is used to living shitty. You do abide by some basic expectations you have yourself though as you do not want to live like a racoon in a trash can and Toji lets you do as you want.

🪱​After years of not having looked properly out for his own hygiene Toji actually finds himself caring about such aspects again but only because it is very obvious that it bothers you. He's never really minded that he smells like sweat, blood and fast food but you do, especially whenever he gives you a bear hug. He very much forces physical affection on you as he has only ever promised to draw the line at physically harming you. Honestly, you do realise from an early point on that Toji lives in a different world than you do and that you wouldn't be able to escape and run away from him even if you had the opportunity. There's no way for you to escape someone with senses as enhanced as his and immense physical abilities that easily outperform top athletes. So as strange and frightening as it is, you try to adjust to a life with him even if only to protect family and friends who are very much a green light for him to threaten and end if you do something stupid. You're actually allowed to go outside as soon as he knows that you have learned how things work but you aren't allowed to interact more than necessary and if you just want to go outside to have fun he always accompanies you.

[blorger]

10/10 contribution friend, the Dobby Dilemma totally adds a new dimension to the whole conundrum.

As for the Lucius thing, Dumbledore is often shown to be downright wrong about the inner workings of the Death Eaters (and pureblood stuff in general, like the Black family succession rules), which is honestly quite baffling since his inside source is right at the top of the org.

I honestly think it's a bit of a fumble of jkr's part because she wants to have her cake and eat it too: in the first books especially, she wants us to think that Lucius is a Big Bad, an all powerful enemy with ties to the government, the school and all things magical but when push came to shove and she escalated the stakes in the books (basically from OotP onwards) he's not one of the villains she chose to be an actual Big Bad, she introduced more dangerous characters like Bellatrix and Greyback instead.

In this new re-imagining of the Death Eaters, a Lucius at the very top of the food chain doesn't make much sense: he's not a true believer like Bellatrix and Barty and he's not a bloodthirsty maniac like Greyback; Lucius is, by design, someone who operates from behind the scenes, someone who, like a wise man once said, doesn't want real power, just money and the illusion of power (because with real power comes real responsibility). Lucius is shown time and time again to act only out of pettiness and his own interest, which means he doesn't really work as Voldemort's n2 (which is how Dumbledore refers to him in more than one instance).

I think that when jkr makes Dumbledore give his big wrap-up speech at the end of CoS, she's tidying up any loose ends and making Lucius out to big the Big Bad simplifies the narrative. Why did this extremely convoluted chain of events happen? because the evil guy was up to no good, case closed.

The Dobby thing, on the other hand, is just sloppy writing in my opinion. jkr has this tendency to use her secondary characters in a rather exploitative fashion, basically she changes them to fit the purpose of the situation they're in. In book 2 Dobby needs to know of and like Harry before he even meets him so she sets him up to be a beacon of hope for an underground Elf resistance movement fighting against their oppression. After CoS, this supposed elf resistance is never mentioned again and elves are re-imagined to love their own enslavement in a Stockholm Syndrome type of way in order to give Hermione a side plot with S.P.E.W.

Basically, Dobby is there to be a helpful (but not TOO helpful, so he can't be too smart) character who helps the plot along. What is Harry's conflict now that he's back at the Dursleys and they're intimidated by him? Let's have Dobby artificially create one. How do we set up this book's main mission? Dobby has heard vague things.

In my heart of hearts Dobby heard Draco complaining endlessly to Lucius about Harry during summer vacation (and Lucius's irritated responses), conflated that with the various Ministry raids on the Manor (and the Malfoys' reaction to them) and decided that they were plotting to harm Harry. I like the story much more if it's driven by a bunch of people who don't know what they're doing stumbling their way to success.

Look, listen, this is a very important question for the culture: why does the hp fandom at large like to act like Lucius Malfoy meant to open the chamber of secrets?

Book 2 Lucius Malfoy was clearly in his live laugh love era, the Great Diary Reshuffle of 92 was very much an improv moment, a petty action to mess with a Weasley and get rid of a cursed artifact at the same time, I'm sure he went home feeling real proud of his innovative problem-solving.

Even when Draco recounts the letter from his father, all we get from Lucius is basically "sit tight and watch", not exactly the words of someone invested in the outcome.

I'm very much in the "the diary was left to Abraxas Malfoy and Lucius had no idea what it really was" camp, tho that is just a personal spice I like to add to the books, am unsure of jkr's actual intentions (if she even thought it through to that extent)

[harrygoeswest]

Secret Santa

At your yearly Secret Santa draw at work, you draw Harry's name.

Terms and conditions (TWs): a lot bit sweet and a little bit spicy. Penetration not included.

Word Count: 7,999

A/N: Hello hellooooo. Look at me posting a Christmas fic on the 1st December! I've been feeling very Christmassy this year so if I can get my shit together there will hopefully be another, totally unrelated, one in a couple of weeks time. Love you all, and thank you for always coming back when I decide to post something <3

~~~

“Alright, everyone gather ‘round.”

I look up over the top of my cubicle to the common area. Charles, the office manager, is standing on the coffee table—that is unlikely to hold his weight for much longer—with a plastic bowl in hand and a cheap Santa hat on his big bald head. It’s not even the end of November yet.

And yes, we do have to call him Charles. Not Charlie, because ‘adding one extra syllable is stupid and unnecessary for a nickname’.

“It’s that time of year,” he says, grinning like a buffoon.

Trying to shove down my sigh, I push away from my desk and wander around the other cubicles to where the rest of the team is congregating by Charles.

“Are we all here?” he asks impatiently.

We’re not a very big office—ten of us total, including our illustrious leader, and a supervisor.

Looking around, it seems the supervisor himself is the only one missing.

Izzy, my partner in crime in this corporate hellhole, nudges my hip with her own from beside me. I bump her back.

“Are we doing secret Santa?” she asks.

“Certainly looks like it,” I mumble, and start picking at my nails.

“Why are we only nine,” Charles muses, doing another head count. “Oh—Harry! Come on!”

“Sorry!” Harry, the missing supervisor, calls back from some hidden place in the office. 

“Time is money, mate!”

I rub a hand down my face, failing to hide my weariness.

A second later, a lanky frame hurries to join the group, wearing form-fitting pressed grey trousers and a black cable knit jumper. Something is different about him where he stands a head above the rest of us. Something I’m trying to hide my shock at.

“Oh my God, Harry—,” Izzy blurts, “where’s your hair?!”

The group titters with laughter at Izzy’s shrill horror. Even I let out a snort.

Indeed, Harry’s once voluminous curls have been shorn to a neat buzz cut. Annoyingly, while I never would have pegged him as a sexy bald, he wears it well. What I’m struggling with is why he’d choose to do it in winter.

“I’ve made a hairshirt out of it,” he deadpans.

From the practical cricket noises following his declaration, I’ll assume no one in our office knows what the fuck a hairshirt is.

hair shirt

in American English

NOUN

1. a garment of coarse haircloth, worn next to the skin as a penance by ascetics and penitents

2. self-imposed punishment, suffering, sacrifice, or penance

“It’s now hanging pride of place in my lounge.” Charles grins. “Anyway, we’re doing secret Santa for our Christmas meal this year, which is on the fifteenth of December. Times are tight, I know,” spoken like a man who has never known what it’s like to be clawing his way to payday to make ends meet, “so the cap is a tenner. It’s just a bit of fun, alright? Let’s go.”

He holds the bowl out, and one by one we pluck out a folded scrap of paper. I’m not last, which means there’s still a selection of three by the time I get there. I pick one at random, sure to hate whoever I get.

I know I won’t be lucky enough to draw Izzy again like I did last year, but I suppose as long as I don’t get Charles, I’ll be satisfied.

HARRY

Motherfucker.

I’ve already started moving back to my desk so I can’t feign innocence and try and swap the name. The second-worst name I could’ve drawn—that of the supervisor. And a more-than-occasional object of my affection.

Is it inappropriate to have a crush on your supervisor? Not really. I’m sure lots of women fancy their seniors in the workplace. I’m all for women in senior positions, but there is something inherently attractive about men in power—not including Donald Trump. Ew. Add to the fact that said man is already hot shit and (I’m talking about Harry again), well, it’s a lost cause. Never mind the fact that we were both asked to interview for the supervisor role when the last one left and I turned it down.

Harry and I used to be cubicle neighbours who shared coffee breaks and threw scrunched-up notes to one another over the wall. Once we had a cat GIF email chain going that spanned 134 emails over twelve days. Now he sits at the other side of the floor in a private office where the door is always closed and we don’t make coffee for each other anymore. We definitely don’t send endless cat GIFs to one another.

I add the slip of paper with his name on it between a document I’ve finished with, and stick the whole thing in the shredder.

~

Later that afternoon, around three o’clock—when I hit a motivational wall and have to take a walk around the office for a change of scenery—I’m standing at the photocopier scanning an abhorrent amount of paper. I really wish the people who worked here could learn to be a little greener.

“So, who’d you get?”

I look up from my scanning to find Harry leaning over the printer, looking boyish and handsome all at the same time. There’s a delighted little gleam in his pretty green eyes, and I have to wonder when I last saw him looking so… mischievous.

“Wouldn’t telling you defeat the entire purpose of a secret Santa?” I retort.

“Yeah, but this is me. I can’t keep secrets and I’m bursting to tell someone mine.”

“Please don’t tell me who you have, Harry. Not again.” Because he told me who he’d drawn last year and then Izzy also let slip who she had as well, and by the end of the day I’d worked out who everyone had. “Also, if you’re so rubbish at keeping secrets, I’m definitely not telling you.”

He pouts. “You’re no fun anymore.”

I try not to let it show how much that comment bothers me. Especially that it came from him. “Apparently not.”

“Is it me?”

“No.” I say as calmly as I can manage. Of course he’d choose himself first, and the name I happen to have picked out.

“Izzy again?”

“No.”

Harry then proceeds to list off every name in the office, to which I pointedly reply with no, each and every time.

“But I’ve said everyone’s names.”

“Exactly.”

He sighs. “Fine. Do you know what you’re going to get for yours?”

“No.” And it was a painful truth. A year ago, if I’d have picked Harry’s name out I would have been over the damn moon. Now, it feels awkward and weird to be buying for the good-looking supervisor who used to be my friend. “Do you?”

“I have a few ideas for mine.” He grins.

Lucky for some.

“Well, that’s good,” I answer noncommittally.

I start to move away from him, but I’m stopped by a hand around my elbow.

“Hey,” he coaxes, and I meet his frowny gaze. “You good?”

If this were my friend of a year ago, I’d tell him it’s Friday, I’m bored and want to go to the pub to start my weekend early. But because he’s my supervisor now and I don’t know where to draw the line, I decide to keep the line very low and say, “All fine. Just tired.”

His frown doesn’t ease when I make a poor attempt at a smile. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?”

Nope. “Yeah, of course.”

“Alright,” he releases my arm. “Well, if you’re really stuck on what to get your secret Santa person, you could look in the magazine I’ve left on your desk.”

I raise a brow at him and he grins again, all white teeth and dimples.

Ugh.

“Is it inappropriate?” I ask, feeling nervous.

He feigns offence. “Of course not, that would be very wrong.”

I narrow my gaze but start to move back to my desk again. “Yes, it would. But I appreciate the help.”

“Any time!”

In my cubicle I find a company magazine on my desk, tabbed two-thirds of the way back. The page opens to a website specifically for Secret Santa gifts. With a sigh, I follow the link and start mindlessly scrolling through the options. There’s everything from oversized mugs to slippers and swear socks, whiskey cubes to coffee table books, candles and incense to bath sets and body creams. I am not short on options.

None of this really feels appropriate for Harry.

Still, since I’m bored out of my mind and have nothing better to do, I waste a good thirty minutes more scrolling mindlessly. Even though I’m struggling to find something for Harry, I do manage to find a present for Izzy—bed socks with cats all over them—and for my mother—a Lazy Susan.

I’m about to give up my search for something fun for Harry and think I’ll just stop by the crafty beer place down the road from my flat—he said he liked a certain one once—when I spot it: The Holy Grail of Secret Santa gifts.

I don’t even hesitate, adding it to my online basket before I can talk myself out of it. It’s only a couple of quid, so I can get him something else as well.

I spend the rest of the day feeling oddly smug, and when five o’clock rolls around I snatch my things up and head straight for the shop that sells the craft ale Harry likes. Then I walk to the pub to meet Izzy.

~

Our office Christmas meal is held in a tapas restaurant around the corner from the building we work in a couple of weeks later. I’ve never particularly cared where we eat—I’ll always find something—but I do struggle to marry up Spanish cuisine with the festive period. Apparently the general consensus was that no one really wanted a traditional Christmas dinner because they’d be getting that on the 25th December. I’ve always just thought of it as a roast dinner on acid but what do I know?

Our dress code for this year is ugly Christmas jumpers, so our table is crowded with colleagues wearing everything from traditional 70s muted-tone cable knits to Charles at the head of the table in a bright red jumper with a light-up Christmas tree on it. I do have a little giggle every time I look at him. It’s awful.

I’m somewhere in the middle of the long banquet-style table, sandwiched between Izzy and Craig, the new guy in marketing. He only started on Monday, has spent the entire week looking like a startled otter, and is already dangerously close to crossing the line from tipsy to drunk. He doesn’t look old enough to be tipsy but I keep that to myself. I’ve been subtly adding more food to his plate anytime it looks close to empty and I don’t know if he genuinely hasn’t noticed or is too polite to say anything because he just keeps on hoovering it up. Also, the dangerous thing about tapas is you always think you’ve eaten more than you actually have, and end up hungry again when you get home. Or, I do, anyway.

“Are we all about finished?” Charles’s voice booms from the end of the table.

There’s ten of us here in all, so his volume also attracts the attention of every other patron in the restaurant.

As if we’re not raucous enough already.

A chorus of mumbled yeses echoes around the table.

Charles claps his hands together. “Excellent! Harry, bring the bag.”

Pink-cheeked, Harry manoeuvres his way out of his seat directly opposite me—I’ve been avoiding looking at him for most of the night in favour of Izzy—and locates the bag with everyone’s Secret Santa gifts inside.

When we got here, Charles was waiting by the door with a large gift bag—you know the ones children get on Christmas morning? This one’s got Peppa Pig on it, which was comical in itself—that we were promptly instructed to leave our gifts inside as subtly as possible. 

Harry places Peppa Pig on Charles’s chair and waits like a faithful servant for his next instructions.

The next five minutes are spent watching Harry flit up and down either side of our long table as he drops presents into laps, a true Christmas elf. 

“Nicely wrapped,” he comments as he places mine in front of me.

I pull a face while Izzy chuckles beside me, and inspect it for a moment. It’s two presents taped together—one tiny and solid, no bigger than a credit card. Hey, wouldn’t that be a nice gift. The other is bigger and heavier—a cubic box. I desperately want to shake it but it feels like it could be breakable.

Izzy just has one—short and cylindrical and, again, heavy. But it’s slightly smaller than mine. I don’t know why that makes me smug. Bigger doesn’t always mean better. In most circumstances anyway. I’m not sure anyone has ever said that about a penis.

“Alright everyone,” Charles barks when the last gift is given out, “start unwrapping.”

A little shiver runs down my spine.

Here’s the thing about me—I love getting presents. Whoever decides to marry me one day needs to be a giver, because I get a little thrill any time I open up a gift. I think I’m equally as generous, but this is exciting for me.

What’s not exciting is that attention keeps flicking around the table. I don’t like being the centre of attention. A hard line to balance. Basically, I’m sitting here slowly picking apart my gifts while trying to keep the joyous little smile my lips are itching to make off my face.

I open the big present first, which seems to be the opposite of what everyone else does. I’m also trying to be subtle about watching Harry open his gifts.

God, this is torture.

The big present evokes a barking laugh out of me.

It’s well-known in the office that I’m a lover of Tesco, in any form. Primarily a Big Tesco or a Tesco Meal Deal. The big gift is a mug that just says ‘Tesco Value Secret Santa Mug’ in the supermarket’s old branding.

“Nice,” I mumble. I’m grinning like an idiot. I genuinely love that mug.

“Someone knows you well,” Izzy says with a nudge. 

She’s already opened her gift—a candle that apparently smells like mashed potato.

It’s disgusting.

“Someone doesn’t know you at all,” I say, nodding at the glass jar with a cork lid in front of her.

“Or they know me well enough to know I hate these candles and find it funny,” she retorts.

I snicker and pick open the wrapping on my smaller gift. I tug it out from the opened end, and with every new inch revealed, my mouth opens a little further.

I look up at Harry, whose expression is the mirror image of mine.

“You are joking,” Izzy says, and follows it up with a loud cackle.

~

Approximately 1 Year Earlier…

“Are you sure you don’t have me for Secret Santa?” Harry asks, pouting at me around the edge of our cubicles.

“Yes, Harry, I’m sure.”

I picked Izzy this year, who is the best person I could’ve possibly got as my favourite work colleague. Harry is a very close second, but I’d never tell him that.

“But you know who does have me,” he says matter of factly.

I do. In an office of ten people, I have managed to work out exactly who has who, only because Izzy told me who she has, and Harry has already told me he picked out the woman in Human Resources. I’ve deduced from there everyone else’s picks, including that I must be Charles’s. I suppress a shudder at the thought of what he might give me.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because I know what I want from them and I need you to subtly suggest it to them.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I mutter. “What is it?”

Harry rolls his chair around the cubicle partition, phone in hand. “Funny you should bring up Jesus, actually.”

He puts his phone on the desk in front of me, and at the same time he rests his chin on my shoulder.

He.

Rests.

His.

Chin.

On.

My.

Shoulder.

I try not to outwardly react to it, even though it’s setting off every single butterfly living in my stomach. I haven’t had sex in far too long if the simplest thing has me heating up this way

Christ.

Anyway, I finally look at Harry’s phone, and it makes me laugh.

Hysterically.

Honestly, I can’t stop.

I’m crying by the time I recover.

“Grow Your Own Jesus?” I sputter out, still tittering.

“Yeah!” He sits back and grins.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I kinda feel I’m lacking a little faith in my life.” He shrugs, but that toothy grin is still all there, along with his dimples and shiny green eyes.

How this man is single, I don’t know.

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Just drop a hint for us, yeah?” He starts rolling away, but not before he drops me a little wink.

A wink.

I’m in so much trouble.

~

I stare at the ‘Grow Your Own Jesus’ in my hands, then at the matching one in Harry’s.

“You remembered?” Harry asks, clearly fighting a smile himself.

“So did you,” I accuse.

“Well, I just kind of hoped if you didn’t want yours that I could have it.”

I gasp and hold the small cardboard box to my chest. “No. He’s mine.”

“Wait,” Craig pipes in from beside me, “did you two get the same thing?”

“They got each other the same thing,” Izzy corrects. “The same weird thing.”

“It’s an inside joke—you wouldn’t get it.” Harry pretends to flip his now non-existent hair.

Izzy sticks her tongue out at him.

“I’m going to grow him in my Tesco mug,” I decide.

Harry quips, “At work, I hope.”

“Obviously. Pride of place on my desk.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he says proudly.

“And what about yours?”

“Oh,” Harry pats the box on the table, “he’s coming to bed with me.”

A laugh bubbles out of me.

“Ew.” Izzy’s nose wrinkles.

~

After dinner is settled, we head out of the restaurant and to a pub near Soho Square. A couple of people drop off and head home, but Craig is still soldiering on, bless him. He’s more stable when in motion than when stationary, and as soon as we find a group of tables together, we shove him in the corner.

Charles offers to buy a final round before he heads home for the night, and when Craig asks for another beer, I make sure Charles comes back with a non-alcoholic one.

“Why are you so protective over the new kid?” Harry asks as he sandwiches himself between me and another colleague.

“I’m not,” I retort. “I just don’t trust anyone else to look after him if he’s too plastered to get home by himself.”

“That still seems quite protective,” he argues.

“Well, put yourself in his shoes for a second. It’s your first real job, you’re young, you have one too many drinks on a night out with your new colleagues and you’re left to your own devices when everyone decides to call it a night. Maybe you take a walk along the river to sober up, and the next thing you know, you’re toppling over the wall and drowning in the Thames.”

We’re silent for a moment. Harry is just…staring at me, probably wondering where that came from. To be honest, so am I.

“That escalated quickly,” he says after a bit.

“But am I right?”

“I doubt it.”

“Ugh, go away.”

“I don’t want to go away.”

“Well, don’t ask stupid questions. We should be looking after him as the newbie. He won’t come back if we treat him like shit. You, as the supervisor, should recognise that.”

Harry lifts his hands in defence. “Alright. Point taken.”

“Are Mum and Dad fighting?” Craig asks loudly, sitting on the other side of Izzy now.

Izzy pats his arm. “I’ve heard Mum and Dad fight, Craigy-boy, and it doesn’t sound like this.”

“We’re not fighting,” I assure him, although I’m not sure how I feel about being referred to as Mum next to Harry’s Dad. “We’re having a discussion.”

“Sounds like you’re fighting,” Craig mutters and sinks further into the corner of the bench we’re crowded on.

 I take a sip of my drink just to keep my hands and mouth busy. Harry nudges me with his elbow, and when I meet his gaze he winks at me.

Winks.

At.

Me.

I’m not sure if the dreams that wink is sure to feature in will be welcomed, or if they’ll be nightmares.

Charles eventually calls it a night, with a shiver-inducing parting comment that he “needs to give his wife the good lovin’.” The rest of us thankfully don’t dissolve into chaos—I’m not drunk enough to be patient over making sure multiple people make it home alive and safe.

It’s only just gone midnight by the time I decide to call it quits. It seems no one else has been keeping an eye on Craig’s drinking habits, because the poor kid can barely stand or keep his eyes open.

“Alright, Craig, where’s home?” I ask as Izzy and I bundle his lanky frame into a particularly nice wool coat.

He mutters something inaudible and I let out an impatient sigh. “Say again?”

He repeats himself, and I think he says Lewisham. “Lewisham?” I clarify.

Craig nods.

“Couldn’t be a little closer, aye?” I grumble.

“You’re not taking him home, are you?” Harry asks, a little tug between his brow.

“I’m not leaving him by himself, H,” I remind him. “I wanted him to sober up and no one else listened, so yes, I’m going to make sure he gets home safe.”

“How? The tube is closed and the bus will take hours.”

“Well, I’ll just have to get an extortionate taxi and deal with it on Monday, won’t I?”

“Don’t you live in Tulse Hill?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Lewisham is farther out of the way than Tulse Hill.”

“Not really,” I argue.

“I’m coming with you.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not being daft,” he insists. “By the time you manage to find a taxi willing to take you that far and actually get there, it’ll be close to two o’clock. And then you’ve got to get home from there. That’s pushing three in the morning. And while I admire your determination and independence and your incessant need to help the new kid, I am not willing to let you travel around London alone on a Friday night, whether you like it or not.”

We’re all quiet for a second—I actually think Craig is asleep on my shoulder now—and then Izzy very quietly whispers, “Damn.”

Sensing defeat, I release a pent up breath. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Harry concedes, “I’ll search for a taxi, shall I?”

“If you want,” I mutter.

We start walking, if only to find somewhere for Craig to sit down while he snoozes, and then say goodbye to Izzy, who’s boyfriend is waiting nearby to pick her up.

It’s cold and a little windy tonight. My cheeks feel frostbitten and my nose is painfully numb. I pull my woolly hat down lower to cover my ears and my scarf up higher to my nose, so all that’s visible is my eyes.

I catch Harry’s gaze, and he offers me a tentative smile. I smile back but I’m not sure if he can tell.

A taxi pulls up some minutes later, and we wake Craig up only so he can tell the driver his address. He falls straight back to sleep again, head pressed against the window.

I’m sandwiched in the middle back seat between the two men. Harry is somewhat bulkier than Craig. I can feel his thigh against mine. It’s warm, which is nice. I feel like I need the body heat.

The drive is relatively quiet, except Harry makes light conversation with the driver while I am also trying not to pass out on someone’s shoulder.

When we finally arrive at Craig’s house, the streets are eerily quiet. Harry makes me stay in the car while he wrangles Craig into his home. I move over into Craig’s vacated seat and watch out the window, a little entertained by the sight.

“Am I dropping you off somewhere else, love?” The taxi driver asks, breaking the quiet.

“Yes, it’s in Tulse Hill, is that okay?”

“No problem at all.”

“Do you know approximately how much it’ll be? And do you take card?”

“By the end of the journey, when I’ve dropped your friend off in Battersea, it’ll probably be over a hundred. But your mate has settled it already.”

“Wait, you’re taking Harry to Battersea?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I thought Harry lived in Brixton. Battersea is an even longer journey.

I rub my tired eyes.

Harry slides back into the backseat and eyes the empty middle seat now I’ve moved over, but he doesn’t say anything.

“When did you move to Battersea?” I ask quietly once the car is moving again.

Harry clears his throat, “Few months ago.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

He turns a look on me that I can’t decipher, so I decide to let it go. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.

We’re quiet again, and I decide this time around I hate the silence in the car. I hate that Harry and I don’t talk about our lives with each other anymore now that he’s in a more senior role. I hate that he doesn’t really feel like my friend anymore. And I especially hate that this is mostly my fault because I don’t know where the boundary line is.

I lean forward and ask the driver, “How long will it take to get from my house to Harry’s?”

I can feel Harry’s eyes on me but I ignore him.

“Another half an hour, probably?”

I can’t help it, I grind my teeth together as I slump back into my seat. I’ve been avoiding looking at the time, but I look now, and it’s nearly half-past two. 

My bones feel tired.

“It’s fine, you know,” Harry’s voice is like whiskey when he speaks, all low and honeyed.

“It’s not fine. You could be home and in bed by now.”

“So could you if you didn’t have the need to mother everyone.”

I don’t know what possesses me to do it—whether it’s the weariness or the level of alcohol in me—but I don’t retort with words.

I just stick my tongue out at him.

Harry laughs and shakes his head at me, turning that smile on his lap.

It’s that smile that forces me to say it, because no matter how much we bicker, I can never really be mad at him. “Why don’t you just stay at mine and go home in the morning when the tube is open again?”

His gaze snaps to me again. “Seriously?”

I don’t know where my confidence has come from. “Do you think I’d offer if I didn’t mean it?”

“But…your flat is tiny. Last I remember, you don’t even have a sofa.”

“I don’t,” I admit. “But I have a king bed. I can erect a pillow wall.”

He gives me a funny look. “I am not sober enough to listen to you use the word erect right now.”

I snort. “Seriously though. It’s so late and I’m tired and I don’t like this already, and for the sake of all our bank balances, just…just stay.”

He stares at me for a while. “I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

I look at him, in his silly jumper and slacks and woolly hat. “I’ve got a big t-shirt I wear on my lazy days. You can borrow that.”

“How big?”

“Like, triple-XL.”

He purses his lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Harry. I’ll put it in the dryer real fast to warm it up, and I’ll even make you breakfast in the morning.”

His mouth twitches again, nostrils flaring as he wards off another smile. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because you didn’t have to come out all this way with me and you did it anyway.”

“Of course I did, I’m not leaving you alone with a drunk kid and a taxi driver.” He glances at the driver. “No offence, mate.”

“None taken,” he replies.

“Is there still a charge if we cut the journey short?” I ask him.

“No, you’re on a meter. If it helps make your decision any easier, I’m going home straight after this job.”

“See!” I gesture at the poor bloke in the front who we’ve subjected to this torture. “Let the man go home to his family, Harry.”

I can see the driver’s shoulders shaking, but he never says a peep.

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll stay at yours.”

“Good.”

Great.

Excellent.

Harry is staying the night at my place. 

In my bed.

I hope I didn’t leave the flat in a mess.

~

By the time we’re dropped off at my flat, I’m a practical zombie.

I let us inside, feet like lead, and Harry follows with just as much enthusiasm. Locking the door behind us, I dig through my drawers for the t-shirt I promised and toss it in the dryer for a few minutes. I clean my teeth, and then give Harry the t-shirt. While he changes in the bathroom, I quickly change into a matching festive jersey pyjama set. Feeling sexy is the last thing I’m trying to achieve. If anything, I just want to be warm—the flat is freezing.

Once changed, I set about making that pillow wall I promised.

When Harry emerges, I’m midway through taking my makeup off.

Looking at him, I can’t help but giggle.

“When you said you had a triple-XL t-shirt, I thought you just meant a plain one. Or, like, one with some generic wording on it. Not this,” he points at his chest.

I admire him in my pink t-shirt, which depicts Salem from Sabrina the Teenage Witch surrounded by cake and the words ‘I eat when I’m upset’. “I think pink suits you.”

Harry’s eyes narrow at me, and he moves around the bed to the side I’m not perched on. He studies my pillow wall for a while. “Do you think I’ve got the lurgy or something?”

“The lurgy?” I chortle. “No, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think it’s me we need to worry about being uncomfortable here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insist with a grin as I finish the last of my makeup removal, “as long as you stay on your side of the wall.”

“I would also be fine. I don’t think we need the wall at all.”

“And why is that?” I ask, tossing my used wipes in the small bin next to my bed. I slip under the covers, and Harry, with his hairy, toned legs, does the same. It’s still weird seeing him with a buzz cut.

“Because it’s half an inch tall. You couldn’t stop an ant from getting over it.”

I gasp, and reach over to smack his arm. “How dare you. Ants can vertically climb.”

“Are you sure?” Harry retaliates by smacking me too, except he completely misses and ends up whacking my boob instead.

“Ow.”

He’s already pulled his hand away and is covering his mouth, eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be!” I hiss, rubbing the assaulted breast in question.

“I didn’t mean to. I was aiming for your arm.”

“Well, your aim is terrible.”

He rolls onto his side, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “I really am sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am! But this does prove my point that the wall is useless,” he reasons.

“Fine.” I snatch the cushion at the top of the pile and toss it at the foot of the bed. “Collapse the wall if you must.”

He grins, all pretty and green-eyed, and tugs the next pillow down the row up underneath his head. “Much better.”

Sighing, I say, “Go to sleep, Harry.”

“Yes, boss.”

I shut my eyes, burrowing into the pillows, and wait for sleep to claim me.

And I wait. 

And I wait.

Unfortunately, I am far too aware of Harry’s presence beside me.

I’m thinking about the fact that he’s currently wearing my favourite t-shirt and the shameful part of me probably won’t wash it for ages. Maybe an even worse part of me will put it on as soon as he leaves my flat tomorrow.

Fuck this crush.

Why did I think it would be a good idea to let him stay here? In my bed? In my t-shirt?

I really hate myself sometimes.

“I can hear your brain whirring,” Harry says into the silent space between us.

“It worked overtime today, the fans are cooling down.”

He snickers, and then it’s quiet again. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asks after another minute.

I open my eyes to find him watching me. It’s a little unnerving but I can’t say I hate the attention. “A secret?”

“Yeah. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

I study his face in the dark room. “Okay.”

He wets his lips with his tongue first. “I gave my notice today.”

“What? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“End of January.”

I can’t be sure, but I think I might be about to enter crisis mode. Harry is leaving. Harry, who I’ve seen almost every day for three years, is leaving.

I let him tell me about this new job—how it’s the same position but more money in a bigger company with better benefits.

For a second I don’t know what to say, but I eventually manage to come up with, “Well, congratulations, H. Sounds amazing.”

“Thank you.” He smiles. “Are you going to miss me?”

I pretend to think about it. “No, probably not.”

He gasps. “How rude.”

I giggle. “Of course I’m going to miss you.” Probably too fucking much. Like, crying into my cornflakes every morning for the foreseeable future. That much.

“Good. I’m gonna miss you, too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I have missed you.”

I frown. “What do you mean? We see each other everyday.”

“It’s not the same, though.”

I know what he means, but I’m too much of a wimp to admit it. Or maybe I just want to hear it come out of his mouth, because it’s been swirling around my head for months and months. “How?”

“We used to go out together, you know, me and you and Izzy and her bloke. We had a good friendship going, right? And I think I kind of fucked that up by taking that supervisor role this year.”

“Yeah, but your career is your career, Harry. You did what was right for you.”

“Maybe, but I still hated knowing I’d drawn a line somewhere.”

Funny. I thought I was the one who’d drawn the line. “Well, we’re not going to see you at all now.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that. We can still have Friday night pub time.”

“I’m not sure, H,” my tone is teasing, “you’re joining the big boys now. You’re more important than we are, you’ll forget about us in a month.”

“Don’t,” he whines, throwing me that puppy look again. “I won’t.”

“Sure.”

“I’d never forget you.”

“I’m sure you say that to all your old work friends. Soon it’ll be new ones with new pubs to visit on a Friday night, and we’ll just be a minor blip in your career path.”

“Stop iiiiit,” Harry growls, and the next thing I know, he’s reaching across the divide we made and wrapping himself around my waist, his face in my neck.

I don’t know how to immediately react, stunted into stiff silence.

“You are not a blip,” he insists, squeezing me closer to him.

“You say that now,” I mutter.

“You’re not,” he snaps, then a second later asks, “Why aren’t you hugging me back?”

Tentatively, I loop my arms around his shoulders. I don’t know where to put my hands initially, but one ends up on the back of his neck and the other between his shoulder blades.

“Better,” he says, face still shoved into my neck.

We’re back to silence again for a moment, but my mind is racing. This is not how I expected to end my night at all. Not with a man in my bed and definitely not hugging said man. Who I’ve happened to fancy for far too long.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s a good thing that Harry is leaving. Maybe now I can take time to get over the stupid crush I have on him and start behaving like a normal woman in her late twenties, rather than the perpetually single saddo that I’ve become.

Yes. I’m determined to turn it into a positive.

There will be no crying into my cornflakes.

“This is nice,” Harry whispers.

“Yeah,” is all I can come up with.

“You’re very comfortable.”

Seriously? I want to roll my eyes. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to move.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. DON’T. PANIC. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah?”

I swear there’s something blaring in my head. “Sure.”

With that ringing endorsement, he snuggles closer and pulls me flush against his front.

This is fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about here. No siree.

Except, then, his hand finds the back of my thigh, and he pulls it over his. With a pat for good measure, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

“This might be the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

Great. “That’s nice,” I squeak.

And it is nice, in a way.

It’s nice to be held in the embrace of another warm body.

It’s nice not to spend the night alone.

It’s nice to feel someone else’s breath on my neck that isn’t just my own reverberating back into my face from my pillow.

The tantric tickle of Harry’s fingers on the back of my legs is nice, too.

Really nice.

It’s so nice, in fact, that I…

I fall asleep.

~

I wake up plastered to Harry’s chest. Harry’s chest, that is still covered in my favourite t-shirt. God, that’s pleasing.

It’ll smell like him now.

#winning

I think I’m the first one to rise, which means I have the opportunity to sneak off and start breakfast, but then I feel a warm palm against the skin of my lower back, circling, and I realise I’m not the first over the finish line into consciousness. I also feel a slight chill against my sternum and I think one of the buttons on my pyjama shirt might have popped open, which means there’s definitely the potential for a peep at some boobage.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Harry’s voice sounds like gravel.

“Hi,” I choke out.

“Sleep well?”

I slept amazingly. Dare I say it’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Maybe even months.

Fuck it, it’s the best sleep I’ve ever had.

But all I actually say is, “Yep. Did you?”

He hums, his hold on me tightening. “Like a baby.”

I like that far too much. “That’s good. How…did we get like this?”

“You on top of me?” He asks and gives me another squeeze. “No idea.”

“I am not on top of you.”

“You kind of are. But I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’re comfortable?”

“I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. It’s like when you have a cat on top of you—you don’t move the cat.”

I look up at him for the first time, then. He’s still sleepy-eyed, but he’s more awake than I am and he looks so soft, and so happy. “Do you need me to move, Harry?”

“Absolutely not.” He follows this comment up with a lazy grin that has my insides turning to mush. He’s always been a little bit infectious, like a good drug, and so I can’t help but smile back at him.

He lifts a hand to my face then, still holding my gaze, with his finger under my chin while he gingerly wipes his thumb in the corner of each of my eyes in turn. When I throw him a questioning look, he responds with a simple, “Eye goo.”

I want to be disgusted by that, but I’m not. Not in the slightest. If anything, it’s making this crush I was so determined to get rid of yesterday even worse. And, because I can’t help myself, I gingerly reach my hand up to his face and do the same thing, wiping the dried moisture from the corners of his eyes.

We stay like that, staring at each other with lingering touches on each other’s faces. I don’t know what we’re doing. I’m terrified and nervous and excited all at once.

My heart is telling me he’s into this the same way I am, but my head is telling me I’m overthinking it and it doesn’t mean anything.

Now, call me fucking crazy, but people who aren’t into each other don’t touch one another the way we are.

I tell my head to shut the fuck up.

Tipping my head back slightly, it causes Harry’s light grip to adjust, until his hand all but swallows my cheek.

He lowers his head, and I know, I just know I’m not imagining the pull between us anymore. My breathing becomes laboured, chest heaving with every inch his mouth gets closer to mine.

When our mouths meet I’m dizzy, but I hold onto the shred of sanity I have left, if only to enjoy the moment while it’s here.

It’s exploratory at first—a simple taste of one another. Harry’s mouth is soft and gentle. He takes his time, like he’s learning me. His hands are doing the same thing, cautiously roaming my face, my arms and my back.

I don’t know what to do with my hands, because I want to touch him everywhere. Start with his chest, and for the first time ever I wish for the absence of my damn t-shirt on him. Move to his arms just to trace the definition of his muscles and the lines of his strong veins.

He’s so…delicious. Always has been, hair or no. And the permission to touch him in any capacity has me feeling drunk. I feel more out of sorts now than I did last night.

Harry’s grip moves to the back of my legs, and he drags me over his body so that I’m straddling him.

The new position has trepidation rendering my limbs frozen, and I have to force myself to move, to keep touching him. I can feel his length between my legs—not completely hard but certainly working its way there.

“Is this okay?” Harry asks against my lips, voice hushed but still loud in the quiet room. His hands dance over my hips and thighs, like he wants to touch other places but is worried of crossing that line.

“Yes,” I breathe in answer. 

He resumes his ministrations, becoming braver now with the use of his mouth, and in turn I do too.

My hands finally slip underneath the cotton t-shirt to feel the taut skin of his abdomen, fingertips following every dip and curve. In return, Harry slides his up my shirt, taking the weight of my breasts in his hands.

“They’re so soft,” he comments, and for some reason I like that so much that I kiss him deeper.

Our tongues are involved now, licking and nipping and tasting the other where we can.

“I want to take your shirt off,” I admit.

“You mean your shirt?” He teases, and moves into a sitting position with absolutely no effort.

“Both,” I tell him.

He grins, kissing me again while I ease the cotton up his body, until we have to break apart so I can remove it completely. 

Harry’s body is…perfect. I knew it would be—toned lines, masculine, pronounced muscles. I want to lick it.

I’m kissing him again, if only to stop myself from lapping at his golden skin.

I’m kissing the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—ever known.

I can feel him toying with the buttons on my pyjama top, slowly coaxing each one free. When the last one is done, he slips the garment over my shoulders until we’re in matching states of undress. His large hands cup my boobs, thumbs rubbing against my nipples.

A sharp bolt of pleasure zips through me, straight to the pulsing core between my legs. With an involuntary rock of my hips, I moan into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, “did you like that?”

I can only nod, and then whine when he does it again. Helpless to the taste of him, I loop my arms around his neck. Our bodies are flush together, tongues tangled, and my centre is lined up right over his cock. His cock that is now fully hard.

I start rocking my hips in a rhythm if only to find some friction for the need growing in my lower belly.

Harry’s grip moves from my tits to my arse, squeezing tightly and encouraging my movements. “If you keep doing that I’m going to embarrass myself and make a mess in my boxers, but I don’t want you to stop.”

“Please don’t make me stop,” I beg.

“You better not stop.”

So I don’t. I keep rocking, keep kissing, keep touching.

Every roll of my hips is ecstasy and I can feel the bubble growing inside me, pushing to the surface. The heat in my body expands, not just inside me but across my back and my arms and my chest. I haven’t had any physical contact for a while, and the intimacy of this, with Harry, is setting off every single one of my nerve endings.

“I want to see you come,” he tells me.

I grip the back of Harry’s neck, and for the first time since we started kissing, he moves his mouth. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, my throat, my chest, and then he finally pulls my nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking while squeezing my breast, and, well…

I go off.

My orgasm crests in the least subtle manner—loud and hard. My core is pulsing and my legs are shaking. My body is on fire—in fact, I’m sure I can feel a bead of sweat dripping between my cleavage.

Harry’s mouth is on mine again, warm and wet and sultry, and I cling to him like I’ve got nothing else in the world.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry whispers against my lips.

My face flushes, as if I’m not already burning up, but I still manage to say, “So are you.”

He kisses me hard but chaste. “I’ve wanted to see you like that for a while.”

“Like what?” I ask, still panting.

“Undone. By me, specifically.”

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “What?”

He laughs, and his thumb strokes my cheek, “I’ve always thought you’re sexy as fuck.”

“No you haven’t.”

“I bloody have,” he insists. “I thought you knew that.”

I scoff. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. Now, I’m pretty sure I was promised breakfast?”

I give him a questioning look. “But what about…you?” I ask, and throw a pointed look at the space where our crotches meet.

“I don't believe in transactional pleasure,” he tells me, then kisses me again. “I just hope we can do this again.”

“What, sleepover?”

He laughs. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it. But I was also hoping there might be some dating involved.”

I gawk at him. “You want to date me?”

“Indefinitely.”

Well, shit.

[vroombeams]

winter warmers ⛄ day one (read on ao3)

prompts ❅ lingerie | coffee on a cold morning ship ❅ nortrell words ❅ 1074

“It’s so cold,” Lando whines. Stringy, pitchy whinging that after all these years knowing him has Pavlov’d Max into cringing so hard he practically turns inside out. He doesn’t bother even trying to hide a look of abject disgust.

“It’s your place, mate,” he says. Case in point: he’s been standing in Lando’s kitchen for a solid ten minutes trying to get his espresso/coffee/Large Hadron Collider/whatever machine to spit out literally anything. Man’s got too much money for his own good. Flat full of quote-unquote state of the art appliances that need an engineering degree to operate. Lando’s been snickering at him on and off this whole time, but Max is about ninety percent sure that he doesn’t know how to use it either. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Across the room, Lando’s squirming about in this absurd orange—excuse him, papaya—bean bag chair over by the window. Max doesn’t know if it came from McLaren directly or if it’d been some fan gift but it looks so silly nestled in against all the other classy, minimalist furniture that it almost comes back around to working with the decor.

“It means,” Max says, gritting his teeth as he pulls yet another lever that seems to do nothing at all, “that you could turn up the damn heat if you wanted to.”

Lando’s quiet for a beat. Max punches helplessly at a set of buttons that beep three times before the machine starts vibrating menacingly. 

“Whatever,” Lando says, which Max is fully aware translates to I don’t know how that works either.

Max nearly jumps out of his skin when the machine starts to grind loudly, and then punches the air out of sheer joy when it starts to make sounds like possibly it’s brewing. It really shouldn’t be all that complex, making a fucking cup of coffee. Max doesn’t even want any—Lando’d whined for a latte, and Max had told him to go make one himself, and then Lando’d told him he wanted him to make him one, and, well. Here they are. Max is a genius. The espresso whisperer.

“You’re taking forever,” Lando mutters.

“Then you should’ve made it yourself,” Max says. He weaves enough of a warning into his voice that Lando quiets again. He knows Max isn’t above fully spitting in his cup. Maybe pissing in it, though he’s not entirely sure that Lando wouldn’t like that. The spit bit too, obviously. He’s got a freaky streak a mile long and getting longer by the day. 

Max is only tangentially responsible for it. Actually, Lando’s more responsible of the two of them, but Max does unfortunately enable him. Can’t help it, can he?

The machine huffs and puffs for a while, like maybe it’s about to blow Max’s house in. But then it starts splurting out espresso—god, it smells good, maybe Max wants one too now—and then milk, and somehow it manages this perfect, pristine layer of froth on top of the whole thing. Immaculate. Art, truly.

Triumphant and resplendent with it, Max carries the mug over to Lando and his idiot bean bag chair. The cup is steaming pleasantly, wafting coffee-scent directly into Max’s face. He considers stealing it. Really, he does. But he also wants an opportunity to be smug at Lando. Like ha, did it, you absolute knob.

“Here you are, my liege,” Max says as he hands the mug off. “Anything else for you, your highness? You want some gold leaf on top? Maybe shaped like an L?”

“You—”

“For ‘loser’,” Max interrupts. “L for loser. To be clear.”

Lando’s foot twitches, but he’s holding a very full mug of very hot coffee. The reward of kicking Max comes with the very real risk of spilling scalding drink all over himself. 

Instead, Lando mutters something, hunkering deeper into the bean bag like a hummingbird. No wonder he’s especially cold, right up against the window the way he is. It doesn’t get below freezing in Monaco, but December’s still chilly. 

Max settles on an ottoman just out of reach of Lando’s potentially stroppy feet. Outside, it’s quiet; still dim and calm with slow dawn.

“Thanks,” Lando says, grudgingly. Max gives him a sharp look. He knows he’s only getting a thank you after all that because Lando’s about to pull something. Whether that thing is good or bad, who can possibly know?

“What,” Max says, suspicious and unsubtle about it.

“What do you mean, what.”

“I mean what are you up to.”

Lando scowls at him. The effect is largely ruined by the way he’s got both hands wrapped around the mug like some cutesy wintercore Pinterest girl. Not that Max knows much about… wintercore. Or Pinterest.

“Fine. If you don’t want your Christmas present,” Lando sniffs, “Then I just won’t give it to you.”

A silence, where Lando looks like if he doesn’t just outright tell Max what it is he might explode. This is not an uncommon thing.

“It’s not Christmas,” Max says. Lando looks at him like he’s just told him he’s a big fan of eating uranium.

“Well you won’t be here for Christmas,” he says, and then squirms around suspiciously. “And I can’t just, like, give it to you. I have to be there. So.”

Max does not roll his eyes. “Is the present you?”

Lando glares, and then squirms some more, going curiously red in the cheeks. And then he hooks a thumb in his waistband, and he pulls, and there’s this flash of silky dark blue, a hint of lace against tanned hip. He holds it there for a tantalizing second, in which Max’s brain starts to melt out of his ear.

And then it’s gone again, and Lando isn’t glaring anymore, he’s looking at Max with this smugly shy sort of expression that he doesn’t often offer up, but that Max wants to keep in his pocket forever.

“There’s a matching bit,” Lando says, not-quite-smirking. “Up top, under—you know.”

Oh, Max knows.

“Bob,” he says slowly. “Put your coffee down.”

Lando frowns. “I haven’t had—”

“Put it down or it’s going all over you, I swear to fuck.”

Lando sets the coffee aside. Max grabs the ankles of his joggers and yanks them clear off with a shrieky, yelping laugh from Lando, and then he climbs between Lando’s legs onto the squeaky bean bag. Coffee later. Gift now. He deserves it, thanks.

[unluckywisher]

MI CIELO !!!!!! DROPPING A predictable REQUEST IN YOUR INBOX BEFORE I HEAD TO SLEEP <3 anything with comfort vibes for luke (and/or?) kieran pretty pretty pleaseeeeeee 🥰🥰🥰🥰

BNUUY! Hehehe okay 🥰 (that bun is so cute i'm planting my face on its fur 😭)

Twinkle Toys was holding a promotional event as a new plushie had been introduced: The ever elusive Double Trouble, two smol round birbs stacked on top of each other. Of course, you were determined to get it.

But it was no use. The claw would drop it every time, since its shape was slippery. You had spent a lot of money by now, so you decided to take a break and visit the N109 Zone.

Sylus was away at a business meeting with a dealer, so Luke and Kieran were the ones to greet you. They were quick to notice your less-than-happy mood.

You explained the situation with the plushie. "Why don't we get it for you?" Luke suggested. "Yeah, we've had to deal with many situations in our line of work. How difficult could it be?" Added Kieran.

They changed into their 'plain clothes', much more casual - a hoodie and jeans, though they were still wearing a face mask covering the lower half of their faces and a cap to cast a shadow over their eyes.

Entering Twinkle Toys once again, they looked around with awe. It seemed like they had never been at one of these establishments.

You pointed at the accursed claw machine, housing the plushie, almost mocking you. They frowned at it, Luke pointing at his eyes with two fingers, then pointing at the plushie, and Kieran shaking his head disapprovingly at the machine. They only wanted to make you smile with their theatrics, really.

Since you had explained you had already spent a bunch of money, they refused to let you spend more. Plus, they looked really excited to try all of this for themselves.

Tray of spare change in hand, you three stood in front of the claw machine.

You were the first to try, since you had to explain the controls to them. Once again, the plushie flopped down before it could reach the exit chute. You sighed, "See?" They nodded in understanding.

Luke was next. He had a face of pure concentration, and you guessed he was probably sticking his tongue out under the mask. The claw missed the plushie completely. You had to hold back laughter. Luke facepalmed against the control panel and Kieran pat his back to comfort him.

Kieran's turn. He took his time to set the claw right above the plushie, learning from his brother's impulsiveness. It caught on, and for a moment you thought this might be it, but just like it had happened to you, it fell out of the claw's grasp. Kieran threw his hands up in frustration.

An hour went by, your hands still empty. More importantly, your tray with spare change also empty. "This this is rigged!" Luke said, kicking the bottom of the machine and regretting it fast with an 'ow'. Kieran nodded, huffing.

More than anything, you had enjoyed their reactions and their company in your misery, so you weren't that upset anymore. You shrugged, "It's okay. At least you tried. Thank you!" And hugged them both. They hugged you back.

When you pulled back, however, they had a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Why do you talk like we're done here?" "What do you mean?"

You ran. You ran so fast, giggling. There were so many plushies in your arms, in Luke's arms, in Kieran's arms... An angry Twinkle Toys employee chased you for a couple of streets, but you eventually lost him. You stopped in a hidden alley to catch your breath.

Perhaps using the twin's skills to break open the machine and get all the plushies was wrong, but with how much money you had spent already in the establishment, it was practically fair. They were very satisfied with themselves.

"Don't worry, I'll hack their cameras and erase all the footage of our crime later." Reassured Kieran. "These plushies are really cute." Said Luke, hugging all the ones in his arms.

"Well, I don't need this many plushies so, you can keep the ones you got!" You smiled. There were at least ten in your hold. "Thank you."

The tips of their ears turn visibly red. "It's nothing... We're happy we could help you!"

Their beds at Onychinus' base had been decorated with a pile of Double Troubles ever since.

[moonlightdancer26]

i have another concept for you.

In my opinion, making fun of Snape for his “sickly skin” or “greasy hair” is both thinly veiled racism and thinly veiled classism.

Now hear me out when I say I see A LOT of parallels between me and Snape over our looks. (I’m Korean for reference)

We both have:

- Yellow tinted skin

- Small eyes

- Greasy hair (I’m learning to manage it better)

- Crooked teeth (I got mine straightened out but I had them for a while)

Not to mention the Resting Bitch Face™️, which I most definitely picked up on from my Korean dad.

He’s also described to be relatively thin, which was a common trait in Asia in the 1960s/1970s (Although this may have also been because he was poor)

Every single one of these things are stereotypical east asian, and Korean things.

- “Yellow” skin has been a stereotype of East Asians for decades. I remember when I was first made fun of my my skin.

- Small eyes (due to monolids) are also a rampant stereotype. I’ve had many people pull their eyes back at me and tell me that’s how I look.

- Greasy hair is often caused by fine, thick hair, something many east asians have. Typically in my experience, many of my Korean friends end up washing their hair every day to make it not greasy. But Snape probably didn’t have the money to “waste” that much water, so he learned to deal.

- Crooked teeth. Many East Asian mouths/jaws are smaller than average, so your teeth don’t always have enough room to grow. Personally all my teeth either came in wrong or crooked, so I had to get 3 removed and get braces. But Snape wouldn’t have had the opportunity or money for this. So again, he learned to accept it.

Unlike me, as I come from a relatively well off family that could afford to let me wash my hair everyday and to get braces and mouth surgery, Snape didn’t have access to things that would “fix” his ugliness.

He was made fun of his entire life for being “greasy” and “ugly”. Had I not had the funds to fix my teeth and learn about my hair, I probably would have ended up like Snape. Hell, when I was at rock bottom hardly washing my hair because i didn’t have the energy, I looked a lot like him. He simply didn’t have the means to take care of himself, and for that he was ostracized and demonized.

Another thing I would like to add before I take my leave is that Snape grew up in 1960s/1970s ENGLAND. In a millers town. These people have never seen an Asian kid. Beauty tips in Asia are passed from mother to child. Eileen was European as far as we can tell. Even if they had a few things to help his hair (citrus rinses anyone?) or his mouth, or his skin (you can use rice to brighten your skin!) he wouldn’t have had someone to teach him that.

Anyway that’s some reasons why I think JKR not only applied stereotypical East Asian features to Snape to make him “ugly”, therefore encouraging an outlook that thinks East Asian features are ugly, but the fact that he was made fun of for it his whole life is definitely racism/classism.

Love ya! <3

The veiled racism thing is definitely more debatable, but the veiled classism isn’t even veiled lol. I think we can all agree on that.

But I do agree, the yellowish tint of his skin, along with his other features that are typically associated with East Asian people, also led people to wonder and headcanon that Snape was a POC. JKR has definitely included some very problematic stereotypes in her books (the Goblins, for example). I’m not sure if all of them were completely intentional, but they deliver harmful messages nonetheless. And honestly people calling Snape ugly or making fun of him for having said features is actually gross, like it’s fine if you hate the character, but there’s really no need to bring specific physical features into it.

Thanks for your ask!! Sorry I take too long with answering, but my body just refused to provide me with energy lol.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Caring For A Child!reader from an orphanage

Words: 596

Request: Can I request Scout, Sniper, and Spy (if it's not too much) with a kid reader that's from an orphanage?

Who let this man have a child??

He’s definitely more like an older brother but is still technically your father.

That doesn’t matter now, he’s making it known that you don’t ever have to go back.

Tries his hardest to give you a proper family, and he doesn’t mean the other mercs. (If they were, it would be a very disfunctional one.) So he takes you to his ma and brothers.

And she just adores you, absolutely cannot get enough of you! Is constantly calling Scout to speak to you and setting up times for you to come visit her.

If you had anything brought from the orphanage, he doesn’t care, letting you bring whatever it is with you.

Also, depending on your age a few things can change;

If you’re a teenager, he won’t really know what to do, so he kinda just becomes your friend.

As a young child, definitely relies on his mother and some of the older mercs for help (Goes to Heavy and Engineer first for anything, otherwise he’ll call his ma in a panic.)

Has never even thought about going to Spy for anything, who silently fumes and pouts about it.

This guy will not teach you anything a father should, still not sure how he was even allowed to have a kid.

He’s just a tad bit more qualified than Scout, but still shouldn’t be left in charge of a child.

Isn’t that good at comforting you about anything really, but for you he tries more than he would for anyone else.

For a good while it'll be awkward for the both of you, but he can fill in a fatherly role.

Calls his parents for help whenever possible, and they willingly tell him everything about caring for a child.

Tries to take you to his parents as often as possible, wanting to do his best to raise you. (Is really happy to have his parents meet their grandkid.)

Having you around  won’t stop him from driving around in his van, but might just put it on hold for a little if you aren’t fully comfortable yet.

Soon enough he makes sure you know that you won't have to go back ever. If anything happens to him, you’re going straight to his parents.

The adoptive ones, you’ll never meet his birth parents.

What does this man know about raising a child??

But in all honesty, out of the three mercs listed he does know the most and can be a responsible father. (Has never proven it though.)

Just hope and pray Scout never realised the relationship between him and Spy. (Medic won’t tell him, yet…)

You aren’t sure how he learnt these skills but hey, he’s a pretty decent father.

Won’t ever outwardly and blatantly mention you ever going back, but rather he does it quietly through his actions.

Such as; getting you your own space quickly at the base (Which is highly likely where you’re staying.) and spends a good chunk of money on high quality things. (Clothing, furniture and other things.)

Throughout the time of having you around, he’s been having a lot of thoughts, which are mainly about being a father.

He’s such a good dad one for you but he was so shit for Scout, which (Luckily for him) neither of you are aware of.

So he tries his hardest to not fail you like he did before, aware he wont ever make up for Jeremy but he can prevent it from happening again.

The others quickly notice the slight change in Spy towards you.

[ghosty-writes-23]

𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏!𝙷𝚢𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍!𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜.

!TAGS!: Fluff, No Smut, Slight Angst, Leon Acting Like A Puppy.

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, I'm back with a small headcanon series, I mostly wrote this because I wanted to write a Werewolf!Leon oneshot but I didn't want to forget my idea, so there maybe a oneshot version of this coming in the future.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

----------

You had moved out small city apartment in favour of a small cottage in a small wooden village, the only catch was the village was full of hybrids, ranging from cute and small hybrids such as mice, bunnies and small animals, to larger ones such as cats and dogs.

Everybody was so friendly with you, helping you move in, giving you a small tour of the village, showing you all the local hot spots and best places to eat, everybody seemed to be excited a human had moved in.

In your first week there you had managed to open up a small café/bakery since you were going to put your degree in patisserie to work.

After a month of opening, one day the doors opened and what you didn’t expect to see was a wolf hybrid walk in, his arms wrapped around his stomach and his tail tucked between his legs, his ears where flat and almost hiding in his blonde hair.

It wasn’t common for predatory hybrids to come into the village, so it had made you wonder why this hybrid was here.

You could hear some of the customers whispering among themselves, some even leaving the bakery in fear of the wolf hybrid, you could understand why when a hungry wolf walks into a room full of prey, you would be leaving too so you didn’t get eaten.

When the wolf hybrid came to the counter, you could see he was exhausted from the bags under his blue eyes, he had some cuts on his face, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him a little bit. He didn’t say anything but pointed to the black coffee on the menu, it was the cheapest thing you had.

He gave you the money in crumpled up bills, before you gave him a table number, he nodded his head in thanks and went to find a seat in the café.

The wolf hybrid stayed all day, nursing his coffee cup, when you began closing up you noticed he was still sitting in the seat he had been sitting in all day, putting your cloth down you were using to clean the counter you walked over to the wolf hybrid.

“Sir, I’m about to close up for the night, might be time to head home.” You suggested but you noticed his grip on the coffee mug tightened slightly. “I don’t have a home, not anymore.” The man spoke, his voice was rough.

You felt your heart ache before you sat down opposite him, he was still pretty young looking probley around 21 or 22, he had such a baby face and puppy dog eyes, you knew this would either be the best decision you have ever made or the worst.

“well, I could do with some help around the bakery, with some heavy lifting and cleaning.” You suggested and you see him start to perk up a little, as his wolf ears twitched ever so slightly. “and I have a spare bedroom, its not much but I am sure we can make it more comfortable.” You added and you could hear his tail start to wag, hitting the chair sides behind him.

“You would really offer me that, despite everybody’s reaction to me?” the man asked and you nodded your head. “just because you’re a predator hybrid doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” You said and the man slowly nodded his head, but you could see the tension leaving his shoulder as he began to relax.

“I’m Leon by the way, Leon Kennedy.” The wolf hybrid introduced himself formerly, to which you just gave him an ease going smile. “I’m Y/n.” you say to him introducing yourself, this was going to be the start of a very chaotic but fun adventure for you both.

It has been a couple weeks since Leon moved in, he helped at the café with heavy lifting the mornings when you got goods delivered and would help you as much as he could with the baking, he was a fast learner and within his first week he knew how to make cupcakes and basic cakes without burning them.

The people of the village where a little skeptical at first with Leon’s arrival but once they saw he was completely harmless they welcomed him with opens arms, as they did when you first moved in.

Leon didn’t talk much at first, he would only growl or grunt at you, but eventually you learnt what he growls meant, a deep growl meant he was annoyed or angry, a soft growl meant he was wanted attention or was being playful.

He would let you eventually pet him, he pretended to not like it, but you could see him melt when you would scratch behind his ears, his tail would wag and you hear hear him softly whine when you would stop and he would give you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

Eventually he opens up after leaving with you for a couple months, you find out he was running from hunters, people like that catch predatory hybrids and sell them on the black market for their aggressive behavior, when Leon came back to his pack’s small community it had been ransacked, wolves had been killed, pups had been taken and his pack was gone without a trace.

He had spent weeks searching for them and trying to ask for help, but mostly everybody ran away from him because they thought he was going to eat them.

The reason he had stumbled into your café was because he smelt the pastries and baked goods, his body was tired and it needed to rest, so he thought he could rest in the café.

After hearing his story, you decided you would help him try and find his pack, to which he was really grateful for he couldn’t thank you enough for everything you had done for him.

But when Leon found his pack, would he stay with you or go back to his pack??

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[laugtherhyena]

I need to have ibis taken away from me so that i stop expanding Ayame's family tree-

Quite literally the most random thing ever, at one point earlier this week i remembered this throwaway from Asoot's puppetmaster arc at the scene where Akane goes to spend the night at Ayame's house;

This was, obviously, done because back then none of us had any ideas let alone designs and character traits for Ayame's family, hence the need for an excuse to why they're not present.

Cut to present year where i went and made characters for her parents and thought back to this line like "Hey i should make that", since i wrote Bashira as a single child that means this is an aunt from Ippei's side of the family; Mai Hatano!

And hey i was actually nice this time around so she's actually alive post-tragedy :] so here's some general info on her:

-She's 9 years younger than Ippei, the parents were going through a rocky part of their relationship and the mom thought maybe having another kid could save their marriage but it really only made everything worse and the husband left around the time Mai was turning 2 years old.

-The deal is that the father as some kind of businessman that was having an affair with a coworker and would excuse him coming up late or not even back home by saying he was piled up with work and blaming the wife or being “insensitive about his efforts”, but she knew he was bullshitting and could tell he had someone else. So again, she thought maybe if they had another kid that would fix things but it only led to somewhat constantly arguing for over an year until he left with his lover and cut contact with the rest of the family.

-This ties into why later in life Ippei choose financial stability over following his music career, the family struggled quite a bit over the years with just the mom and two kids, they had to move a few times and Ippei even got his job as a waiter during his mid to late teens to help out with money. I guess this also ties into why he and Bashira planned so much to have Ayame, i think his parents married pretty young and inexperienced so he wanted to avoid that and have a normal family.

-On Mai’s side she felt like she was at fault for “ruining her parent's marriage” for a good chunk of her childhood and early adolescence. She's over that as an adult, though it did lead to her avoiding serious relationships with anyone though most of her life. At most she's had some flings/one night stands, but never a proper boyfriend or anything official.

-On top of that Mai is generally pretty bad at dealing with emotions, both of other people and her own. She has no idea how to comfort anyone or help when they're in some emotional turmoil or need someone to vent to, so oftentimes she is kinda just changes the subject or gives a pretty standard response of like “Damn that sucks” before doing so and proceeds to ignore the issue as in sorta of a “forget about it” way. (As you can probably guess, she's not the one to show her hurt to others for a similar reason. When she received the news that her brother and his family had died she didn't express much of a reaction at all at the foundation and only cried when she was back home because she did genuinely care for them, though her odd reaction gave the impression to some coworkers that this wasn't the case.)

-She is a very stubborn person so she doesn't talk to people about this problem of hers, much less seek help when it comes to it because the fact that she can't truly help the people she cares for when they need emotional support really hurts her so she'd rather ignore and forget than deal with her lack of abilities in the area. 

-Stubbornness and ignorance are notably her most negative traits (“I was never taught and I will not learn” sorta thing). This extends to circumstances other than her loved ones emotional needs because a lot of the time she will be dismissive or ignorant about certain things solely because they don't affect her directly nor anyone she cares for.

-That being said, she is very outwardly nice and shows care to others. Very chatty and outgoing, pretty much the opposite of her brother and niece since she can talk to people very easily. She's on good terms with pretty much everyone from Tsurugi's division and talks quite frequently to other foundation workers as well. Though she is rather blunt and says whatever comes to her mind at any given moment.

-Before the tragedy she worked as a personal bodyguard in Towa city, this busy and sometimes dangerous lifestyle led to her distancing herself from her brother a lot as they grew older. It wasn't anything intentional, just life bringing them in separate ways so while she did love her brother and his family a lot they didn't see each other super often, it was mostly during holidays, funerals or events like some of Ayame’s competitions or similar situations. This became one of her biggest regrets late in life as she wishes she could have spent more time with them.

-She broke her arm pretty badly when a client was getting ambushed and was set to stay out of business until recovered. Once she was dispatched from the hospital Ippei and Bashira came to drive her home and help her settle back, alongside doing some catching-up. That was the last time they saw each other.

-When the tragedy broke out she became stranded in Towa city because of all the chaos and the Warriors of hope hunting down the adults. Her arm was still broken then, but Mai is a rather reckless person and went around fighting despairs and rescuing other citizens in spite of her injury, which led to her injured arm getting broken and slashed in many other places which then led her developing a nasty infection that she just kept fighting on her own for months until she and a group of adults managed to leave the city.

-She was brought to a hospital pretty much immediately after by the group's leader and by that point she pretty much couldn't feel or move her hand anymore and the whole area around her arm gave her immense pain. When she started getting treated the staff tried to contact any family member which led to them contacting the Kisaragi foundation and upon informing them that she was in their care Rei requested that Mai should be moved to the foundation’s hospital facility, which was where she stayed for the majority of her recovery.

-There wasn't much Hikaru or any of the medical scaff could do to save her injured arm so she had to have it amputated to avoid further spread of infection, but at this point Mai couldn't even think much about the fact and just told them to do whatever it takes to make the pain stop. On top of losing her arm, she also became prone to infections out of how bad hers was.

-It was when she was recovering from surgery that Tsurugi came to speak to her, he apologized for the foundation taking so long to rescue her, alongside informing her how the place functions and most importantly letting Mai know that her brother and his family had died. It was only after he left that the weight of this information and everything Mai had gone settled in and, for the first time ever since the tragedy started, she cried.

-The thing is that unlike her brother, an overthinker who thinks ahead and carefully plans everything in life, Mai tends to throw herself into things head on just hoping that it will all work out in the end and while she's going through things she doesn't stop to think much about the details until it's over. So it was only as she was recovering in the hospital that she thought about everything she had gone through, everything she had lost, and for once tried to think of what her next course of action should be while going through these feelings.

-That being said, she never fell into a depression or took the loss as hard as someone like Keisuke did because that's just not the kind of person Mai is. Somewhat similar to her ignorant demeanor, her way of dealing with grief is mainly by occupying her mind with other things, like going places she enjoys or focusing on training and work. The last one being the reason she joined Tsurugi's division pretty much immediately after being dispatched from the medbay.

-Mai’s an action woman! She has a lot of energy and loves getting into fights, especially if it is to protect others, so it's no surprise she joined his division and not Rei’s or Teruya's. But when it comes to Tsurugi's ideals Mai is by no means a follower, she thinks he's insane, way too radical, but so far his black and white mortality hasn't affected her or anyone she cares for directly so she turns a blind eye to it, this is the guy who pays her after all. (This does change post Sdra2, especially after Keisuke almost shoots Midori)

-She was assigned to be in charge of the new members basic physical combat and self defense training, especially for those like Ryutaro and Keisuke who had no experience in this line of work before. This is part of how she ended up becoming a close friend of theirs, though Mai tends to treat Ryutaro (and Midori by extension) more like younger siblings rather than coworkers.

-The foundation provides her a prosthetic for use only during missions (by Tsurugi's orders). Mai doesn't mind that since she doesn't actually like having the prosthetic on, it feels more like a trouble to put on and use than it's worth, she much prefers not having one at all.

-On a similar vein, Mai isn't a fan of the work uniform, she finds it way too stuffy and clunky so she only puts it on right before going on a mission, alongside the prosthetic arm. Tsurugi doesn't take that well, as he sees it as Mai not taking work as seriously as she should, but she is one of his best soldiers so he refrains from picking up on her.

-Onto some more miscellaneous information. Mai’s apartment is rather disorganized and messy, but for her it’s fine because she knows where everything is, even if it's not in the right place per say. Bashira used to jokingly pick up on her over it.

-She’s also a pretty bad cook, can only really pull off simple meals which is why she's a huge fan of takeout and fast food in general.

-Back in Ippei's late teens/early 20s she was the one to keep pushing him to take initiative and ask out Bashira, though that help absolutely came alongside teasing her brother for being so shy.

-They were really close then, Ippei would even pick her up from school everyday n all. This strong care stayed strong over the years even after they started seeing each other less and less after moving out of their childhood home, and even less after their mother passed away from old age sometime around the late 2000s.

-She never spent much time with Ayame but oftentimes when she would feel self conscious about her lack of femininity her parents would mention how she's just like her aunt on that aspect

-Mai has her brother's collection of music vinyls at her place, she's not the biggest fan of classical music, but listening to it reminds her of him.

[beetle-blogging]

Honestly, it's possible that Richard would be at least semi-ok with (unrequited) Betel/Lydia.

Cause I've got the idea brewing in my mind for a bit now that it's plain weird that Lydia seems to never have run into anything really dangerous in her 16+ years career of dealing with ghosts (and I assume she was occasionally helping people for free before that. As an aside: Did she sell out because she started a family? Did her dad cut her off? Either cause of Richard or bc he wanted her to be independent?). We know some ghosts are sadistic psychos, and the Afterlife doesn't seem to give a fuck about Breathers in general. Lydia's defences seem to be either Talk or Flee (so far. I hope this'll change in the next movie), so how the hell is she still alive?

She has a bigger, badder ghost watching over her, that's how. And once Richard had died and came up to visit her, he might have become aware of that, if he visited while she worked.

Like, Betel has been stalking Lydia, and he reads obituaries. He knows which ghosts are likely to be dangerous before she encounters them, so he could've warned them off via tv message that they aren't to touch his girl. He also gets let out regularly through his - thanks to the strike which in Living time started way longer ago than in Afterlife time - very successful business, so if any of them ignored his infomercial, he could show up personally. Hogtie them before they can get to Lydia, throw them to the Sandworms, rattle some cupboards for the camera.

If one of Richard's earlier encounters with Betelgeuse was seeing him protecting Lydia - something that Richard himself as a newbie ghost wouldn't be able to do - Betel's whole... *gestures at the guy* would not matter. Much. I mean, he is a hugely powerful ghost who is also an obsessed stalker, but as both the power and the obsession are what's kept Lydia alive this long, Richard likely would rather the Juice stayed around. Well, ideally he'd have wanted Lydia to stop ghost hunting, but unless something bad happens (which it didn't cause of Betel), she's not gonna, is she? Especially not if she did need to make her own money. And then Rory entered the picture and...

Ok, new, adjacent headcanon: If Betelgeuse and Richard have ever been in the same room as Lydia and Rory, the two ghosts would have had a nice bonding moment over their shared hatred of That Asshole.

I mentioned in a prev post (will find and link later here) that I believe Betel might've made a deal with Richard so the latter would take on B's Code 699 violation punishment - at least the civil service - in return for being let out of his booth. Cause I doubt you can just leave work in the Afterlife, and Richard would have signed literally anything if it helped him save Astrid. So I doubt he'll be topsite again in movie 3. But flashbacks would be nice. I usually dislike them, but having some to show how enmeshed Betel has truly been in Lydia's life, with some of them having dead!Richard in the background looking vaguely pissed off (and those that contain Rory have both ghosts looking pissed off) would be really funny.

Ok, so we all agree that Betelgeuse and Lydia must have run across each other occasionally during work, right? Not that she could see him, but he almost definitely was responsible for some of those "evil presences" she felt.

Now consider:

Richard said that he was checking in on Astrid and Lydia all the time, even though he knows they can't see him. Betel was very strongly implied to have done the same, and was still stalking them throughout BJBJ.

Richard and Betelgeuse very definitely can see each other.

I'd be very interested to know how those run-ins went. Probably awkward af.

[sledge-in-space]

John Seed is a comfort character for some people. Folks like to ship him with their deputies or craft redemption arcs for him.

There's nothing wrong with that, obviously.

But I just can't wrap my head around it.

There's nothing comforting about the way John Seed treated Joey Hudson. I don't understand why the ordeal she went through doesn't seem to matter to fans of his.

She was bait for the rookie deputy and nothing more, because she wasn't going to give in and join the cult.

He terrorized Joey and the rest of Fall's End, stooping to the lowest, most inhumane levels to get his way. Some even theorize that he hurt the "sinners" in his care just because he wanted to, for malicious, sadistic reasons that didn't have anything to do with the cult. At worst, some people go as far as to speculate that he raped Joey.

It's easy to see why someone might come to that conclusion. The way he acts is deplorable and he makes everything feel extremely personal, sometimes in ways that can be interpreted as sexually charged. He'll do anything in order to get his way because "no" is antithetical to him. He regularly flies off the handle, so much so that Joseph is threatening to cast him out. All the touching and getting right up in the player's face is so uncomfortable and obsessive (which is the point, but I digress).

So why does he get to be redeemed and venerated by fans? Don't his actions warrant consequences?

Are people willing to let him off the hook because he's attractive? Because he had a horrible, abusive childhood? Obviously he's got a lot more lore than most of the cast. Is that something people are interested in exploring for him over other characters?

I'm not trying to come after anyone personally. There's nothing wrong with liking villains and Jacob, Faith, and Joseph have also done terrible things to innocent people.

Which is like, fine. It's a video game.

And I know that John, like Joey, is a victim of Ubisoft's choppy, inconsistent writing and storytelling. Things got changed and swapped and cut during development that got us to where we are, with the story we have. Flaws and all, not like it was ever going to be perfect.

But in my opinion, I feel like the adoration for John does a huge disservice to Joey. People make thirsty edits of him while she's literally tied up behind him. It's tasteless and makes the optics of her situation look even creepier.

Her pain has largely been ignored for as long as the game has existed. I can't for the life of me figure out why.