#And I don't have a very clear image of how he would feel– I've read a lot of different takes that sound equally realistic

[sskk-manifesto]

Can't wait for Atsushi to enter his depression era in the next episode

[dandylovesturtles]

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

[menlove]

[image id: an ask from @harbingerofskulls that reads: "im gonna b real i only knew the jerking off i would love to hear you elaborate more if you want to go on the whole situation" /end id]

answering here so i can save as a draft without risking the ask disappearing bc tumblr's been doing that lately but

oh god </3 for everyone else- it's talking about this post. sooo i'm gonna go through each one bc i've been feeling insane for several weeks. i'll do my best to cite my sources lmao

i don't know (johnny johnny)

this is referring to this unreleased VERY early beatles track from 1960. the audio quality is absolute shit & as such unfortunately people love to put words to it that don't make much sense in either direction (i.e a lot of mclennon fans want to hear "you're in love with me" and a lot of people that hate mclennon will just make up the weirdest lyrics that make 0 sense so it's Not Gay). some of the lyrics that ARE clear make it obvious this song is about the two of them running away together- at one point i'm fairly certain paul says "how am i gonna tell my father that we're leaving town?" probably referring to them leaving to hamburg. which would be fine but some of the other lyrics areeeee..... very..... Hm. like multiple times paul refers to john as "my boy" and there's bits of them talking about not knowing what to tell their friends & wanting to just run off together alone. if i were the other members of the band having to record this i would have killed them with hammers <3 also the entire end is just paul going "oh johnny" like 1 million times. okay. sure. also since the lyrics ARE so garbled i mean i guess people could be right about it saying "how am i gonna tell my father you're in love with me" but i just don't hear it. still, a very gay song about running off together and getting away from everything and everyone, complete with moaning the other's name </3

2. paris

this one is a huge part of McLennon Fandom Lore lmao but for good reason. not citing sources on all this bc it's one of those that's just Fact & can be found in like any beatles biography or thebeatlesbible.com (my savior) but. for john's 21st birthday, he got 100 pounds from a rich relative. instead of taking his girlfriend or any of his other friends, he decided to use the money to take paul to spain. but they stopped in paris on the way and just decided to stay there. which i mean like. taking your best friend over your girlfriend to the city of love is a little weird but it's not THAT weird. it's everything else that makes people want to chew glass about it. including some of the other things on this list. like this audio of john just goofing around singing about paris and paul, with such hits as "my cheri, my pau pau my pau paul." which is :| okay best friend. and paul has this picture hung up in his house that he took of john sleeping in paris. okay. sure. why not. (although ig there's some doubt about if the photo is from paris? either way it's a picture paul took and has framed in his house which is incriminating enough my man). also NOT in the original post but may pang, a woman john had a brief affair with in the 70s, wrote a book called loving john. in it, there's this quote:

After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.”

okay! also in an interview once he said:

The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing.

(interview with david scheff for playboy in september 1980)

3. if i fell

this one i already made an insane post on that started my spiral into posting about the beatles publicly </3 but, essentially, the song "if i fell" by john is..... well it's most likely about paul. he said it wasn't about his wife but that it was auto-biographical and he never really had any public affairs that weren't flings, certainly not a lover. but most damning is he wrote the complete lyrics for the first time on a valentine's day card addressed "to paul with love" with some hearts and arrows pointing to where the lyrics were written. absolutely insane. made me insane.

4. oh! darling

rawest paul song of all time if i do say so myself lmao. but it's just.... Highly Suspicious, that's what it is. a Lot of beatles fans/historians will admit this song is most likely about john but they won't admit that it's fucking romantic if it is. like.

like that is so blatantly romantic idk what to say other than that. also, in the official recording on abbey road, there's Several points where paul says "darling" that sound more like he's saying "johnny" which is what he called him. people brush it off by saying it's his accent, but there's a very clear difference between when he's saying "darling" and when he's saying "johnny". i mean the Lore behind this is that it was written right when things were splitting up between them (& the rest of the band) so it makes sense and it's why most people are willing to accept it's about john. it's just insane to me that they'll accept it's about john without considering the implications of that.

5. the real life demo

this one made me want to light myself on fire i won't lie to you. but here it is! john had a song called "real love" and this is a very early demo of it. but instead of the lyrics that came to actually be in the song (which are thought to be about yoko but let's not get into the fact that it was on a tape labeled "for paul" but whatever), it includes john fucking crying as he sings saying:

"was i just dreaming or was it only yesterday? i used to hold you in my arms. and now a baby and another on the way... la la la la farm..."

which can quite literally be about no one else but paul, as this demo was recorded when he'd just had two children with his wife linda and linda was pregnant with their third child. they'd moved to a farm in scotland. hearing this audio clip did genuinely make me want to lie down in the dirt for a week. also "i used to hold you in my arms" just... yeah. god. when people think it was unrequited idk what to say, really.

6. If Paul Were A Woman-

shoving these two together but. in april of 85, paul said in an interview about john and yoko's relationship:

"I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, 'Who’s this?' You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…"

okay bestie <3 and what would make your relationship different if you were a woman? interesting! and yoko had something similar to say. in this audio, she says:

"I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul."

just reminds me of being a kid and telling my best friends "if i were a boy i'd date you" lol. incredible. does anyone here know about bisexuality.

7. stuart!

not much to say here except that john had a best friend, stu sutcliffe, who died young & before that had been the bassist in the band. paul fucking hated him sooo much oh he SEETHED. a lot has been written on that relationship but it was.... very interesting to say the least. it could have just been about the band, or just jealousy over john's friendship, but take that with a lot of john biographers suspecting john had feelings/even a sexual relationship with stuart and it paints a very Interesting picture to say the least

8. john's bisexuality

here's a compilation of quotes about it, but john was more than likely bisexual. which has nothing to do w paul, really, but more to do against people that like to claim they were both Heterosexual Men. although an interesting quote in this compilation is him saying he's "had paul" lmfao

9. paul's post-beatles work

there's just.... there is so so so much here i don't even know where to begin. @ringompreg has a good compilation of paul songs here. a lot of them do take a bit of Lore but like..... it comes down to the fact that both him and john have/had admitted many times to using their lyrics during The Breakup Years to talk to/reference each other and sooooo many of these lyrics are insanely blatant. the two i mentioned were tug of war and let me roll it, both of which are acknowledged to be about john by most people WITH NO ONE BOTHERING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT which..... tug of war has this:

we could stand on top of the mountain with our flag unfurled? dancing to a beat played on a different drum? this is what gaylors think gaylor conspiracy is but paul mccartney is really out here saying this shit.

and let me roll it is so fucking blatantly romantic but every reviewer is like haha! what a cool song that's "making fun" of john and clearly in his style! like are straight people stupid genuinely. anyway:

bonus to that but about JOHN'S solo work :)))))) he wrote a song called "watching the wheels" and when you consider he very much responded to MANY of paul's solo stuff it's :)

which as a response to let me roll it would just be... so devestating but it may be a stretch idk if i'm onto anything there it's just worth Mentioning

and there's a lot of others, a lot of them in that post up there. like far too many where paul mentions falling in love with a friend like Alright.

10. paul's first lsd trip with john/"i know" "i know"

this one is less blatantly romantic but it is just insane. here's an article. and a quote from george martin about it. the first time paul tripped on acid w john was bc john accidentally took some and he took him home & then took acid w him bc he didn't want john to be alone on the trip :( but, notably:

"And we looked into each other’s eyes, the eye contact thing we used to do, which is fairly mind-boggling. You dissolve into each other. But that’s what we did, round about that time, that’s what we did a lot," the singer recalled, "And it was amazing. You’re looking into each other’s eyes and you would want to look away, but you wouldn’t, and you could see yourself in the other person. It was a very freaky experience and I was totally blown away."

he also apparently saw john as the, and i quote, "emperor of eternity" during this trip??????? okay

SOMEWHERE i can't find it rn and i'm getting lazy but somewhere they (i think paul?) talk about the fact that they used to just stare into each other's eyes and then say "i know" "i know" which. considering john's song "i know (i know)" makes me crazy

11. in my life/i will

these are really just some devastating songs with lyrics that make you really raise your eyebrows. for in my life, written by john, it's just an incredibly romantic & sweet song that is again, not about his wife. given that the lennon estate is still out here posting pictures of paul to those lyrics i have to say it's a liiiiittle suspicious. and i will is...... it's one that paul insists is not about his girlfriend at the time, jane asher. and when you look at the lyrics vs how him and john met.... like. the song goes:

and the story of how they met was that paul saw john repeatedly before they ever met, when he didn't know who john was other than that he thought he looked cool & admired his sideburns (lmfao). and when they did finally meet, it was when john was singing at a garden fete (party) and paul was in the crowd just Mesmerized. so. well. you can see.... you can see how fitting that is. makes me crazy makes me want to chew glass actually

12. "we were each other's intimates" and other insane quotes

"we were each other's intimates" is a paul quote about john which is just insane but that's not even the tip of the iceberg. here's a ton of quote compilations.

13. "literally everything else"/honorable mentions

some honorable mentions go out to: john going on stage w elton john & playing i saw her standing there and introducing it as "a song by an estranged fiance of mine" okay! the "just like starting over" demos. okay! which isn't even to MENTION the fact that paul locked himself away in the studio listening to "just like starting over" on repeat for DAYS after john died like???? john saying repeatedly that he considered paul & yoko to be his two major partners in life including in an interview the literal day he died. a whole ass rpf movie where they kiss & talk like they're ex-lovers and dance in central park (two of us) made by the same dude that made the let it be movie like. he knew them personally? he worked with them closely? and the only thing paul had to say about it was just essentially that it was what he wished would've happened like???????? i can't find a super reliable source for this so take it w a grain of salt, but apparently paul referred to mclennon fanfiction as "beautiful stories" and doesn't mind them being written. paul also had a cat that had kittens & he named two of the kittens pyramus and thisbe after fictional lovers he and john played and he gave pyramus (the character paul played) to john :|

and literally so much else like all of this and it's not even all of it. it's not even close to all of it. i didn't even get to talk about the way in "get back" the documentary, paul started talking about john leaving the band for yoko and how john would choose her over them and then he got teary eyed, started choke laughing, and then started singing "build me up buttercup" before looking at the cameras and stopping. what the FUCK was that about! IT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE SONG "TWO OF US" THAT'S SO OBVIOUSLY ABOUT JOHN THAT IT HURTS. it's. it's not even scratching the surface. they were just genuinely insane about each other.

[robbinghisdick]

"Good afternoon, baby boy!" Wade cheerily greets, swinging himself over the back of the couch and dropping himself hard into Logan's lap. The older man grunts slightly, but doesn't push Wade off as the man pulls up his mask just enough to plant an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. "Where have you been all day?"

Now that he had gotten a good look at Logan's face... something was off.

Logan was quiet for a moment, considering. "Well, you know how I've been feeling sick lately?" He asked. Pain was nothing new for him. The weight of his bones and poison from the adamantium made sure to keep his body in some level of pain. One thing his healing factor prevented was illness. If he managed to get sick, he didn't stay sick for very long.

"Yeah and I said, "you should get that checked out" and you grumbled and whined like a dog being taken to the vet?"

Logan rolled his eyes and continued, "Well, turns out I'm pregnant."

It was one of those rare times Wade was rendered silent. The mask also made it annoyingly impossible to get a good read on his face.

Wade, meanwhile, was trying to gauge whether or not this was a good thing. Logan didn't seem particularly happy.

"How the fuck did we manage that?" Wade asked. "I mean, it's not like my cancer ridden body makes healthy little swimmers and you said the adamantium poisoning rendered you infertile."

"According to the doc, unless I literally don't have a uterus, there's always a freak chance," Logan sighed, leaning heavily back into the couch and running his hands over his face. "It doesn't matter either way. We can't have a baby."

Logan waited to see if Wade would agree or disagree with him. He found himself half tempted to rip the mask off so he could get a better read on him.

Who's to say the baby would even make it to term, and what then if it did? Have two dads who's lives were marked by death and tragedy? Two guys with a list of enemies a mile long and would target a kid without thinking twice? Their lives were messy and dangerous, they couldn't bring a kid into that.

There were a million reasons why they shouldn't bring a baby into the world, but that was all too much weight for Wade. "I mean, you're right, but like, what if it develops the wolverine claws in the womb and bursts out of your stomach alien-style? That'd be kinda cool."

Logan's nose crinkled in disgust, nearly shuddering at that mental image. "That's horrific, thanks."

Wade just grinned, cupping Logan's face with both hands and kissing him.

"But seriously, whatever you think is best."

...

Later that night, Logan stared up at the ceiling fan, the blade whirling at full blast because Wade insisted on snuggling despite how hot both of them ran. He was splayed out like the world's most clingy starfish, head on Logan's chest. It was clear he was still awake too as one of his fingers idly tracing over Logan's arm. This quiet, domestic routine had become the norm.

When Logan thought about it, they were truly in a better place than they had ever been before. Logan had a home and family. The mansion was a home, but this one was his. One he chose to share with Wade. He had friends who loved him, a partner that stuck with him no matter how grumpy he got. Hell, he wasn't even drinking or smoking as much as he used to.

There were still battles and hardships, but never before had there been such a strong sense of support and community.

Logan was... happy.

"Wade?"

"Hm?"

"I..." he trailed off, unsure. "I think I actually want to have the baby." He couldn't particularly explain it. For years he fought against being put in a fatherly role when it came to all the young mutants he had met and looked after. Somehow, though, the thought of going on that journey of parenthood with Wade actually seemed kind of exciting. He loved that man more than he'd ever be able to put into words.

Wade sat up so fast it made Logan flinch.

"Oh thank FUCK!" He exclaimed, reaching over and turning on the bedside lamp while he straddled Logan's lap. His eyes pratically sparkled as he looked down at Logan. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Logan stared back up, surprised. "Wait, you wanted to keep the baby?"

"Of COURSE I want to have a little baby wolverine with you!" Wade waved his hands as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Like, yeah I think we're probably not the best parent material in the world and Jesus the CHRIST is it terrifying, but I wanna be dad."

"Why the fuck did you not say anything earlier?!"

"I'm not the one carrying it!" Wade shot back. "Besides, I never thought I'd have kids anyways, so not exactly a deal breaker, sweetheart." He patted Logan on the cheek. "Also, you know how many orphaned and abandoned mutants we run into? We always had a chance. If only Laura were younger, coulda started there."

Laura was an adult by the time Wade came into Logan's as a romantic partner. She was still young, but not a kid that needed parents to look after her.

"So... we're gonna have a baby?" Wade asked, a grin on his face.

"We're gonna have a baby."

Wade surged forward to kiss Logan, enthusiasm rubbing off on him as he smiled against Wade's lips. His face was peppered with more kisses and whispered "God I love you so much."

When Wade calmed down a fraction, Logan had to bring him down a bit more. "I'm only a few months along, we don't know if the baby will even make it," he reminded him. So many things could go wrong it was terrifying.

"Nope! This little guy--gender neutral--is a little fighter!" Wade insisted, hand splaying over Logan's stomach. They're gonna make it and be beautiful, and then we get to name them something cool!"

Logan scoffed but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "We're not naming the baby after any of your cartoons."

"You are absolutely no fun," Wade pouted. "I'll sneak something by ya."

Logan just pulled Wade down into another kiss to shut him up.

...

((They name her Allura, from Voltron lmao.

Writing this has made me incredibly sad for reasons I'll say if asked, but decided not to say so y'all don't just get randomly sucker punched.

This is NOT movieverse, exactly, but just a vague timeline. Movieverse poolverine end up with the kid tho. Which you can read here.

ALSO YES I KNOW THIS IS THE 3RD BABY AU ON THIS ACCOUNT. I have problem. I don't even want kids 😭))

[queerprayers]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judensau

luther inspired hitler, following him is a step away from following hitler

Welcome, beloved. I don't want to dismiss your message, but I do want to make some things clear. I, like many, have horrors in my religion that I have to be able to address, and prejudices that I do not perpetuate consciously but know that I nonetheless have absorbed from culture, and am responsible for healing. Antisemitism within Christianity is a huge topic, with people devoting their lives to studying it. I would not fault any Jewish person for antagonism toward my communities--you would be right to be wary, and if I intend to continue participating in these communities, I must be able to understand and accept any justified anger or distrust coming my way.

I'd encourage everyone reading to learn more about this through the Wikipedia link, but a brief description/summary for those who don't want details/images: The mentioned article is about an antisemitic artistic trope from the Middle Ages. The church where Martin Luther preached included an image of this sort from 1305.

Martin Luther was antisemitic. This isn't up for debate. There is more to say, of course--we can look at how his attitudes changed over his life (for the worse, to be clear), we can talk about the extent to which he specifically influenced Nazism (this is a complicated conversation that I'm not qualified for)--but he was undeniably, horrifically, antisemitic. There's a Wikipedia page solely devoted to this topic.

That said, there's huge diversity within Lutheranism, seeing as it's a large religious tradition, and if you're interested in learning about Lutheranism and Hitler specifically, I'd encourage you to look into the split within the German Lutheran Church in 1933 and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran theologian who was hanged at the Flossenbürg concentration camp. It's fascinating to look back at that while living through such religious division in America right now.

Luther was a complicated man, who did not set out to found a church, and opposed the term "Lutheran." He was attempting to reform the Catholic Church from the inside, because he himself was Catholic. Not a very good one, obviously, but he didn't consider himself anything else. He was a monk for a time, then an academic, and his beliefs got him excommunicated. I've read some of his writings, but not all. I find value in them, while disagreeing with a lot of it. Lutheranism is a space with which I have fellowship with God and humanity, not a set of rules or a devotion to every word of a man from the 16th century. I'm not interested in excusing or defending him, nor do I feel the need to honor him in any way. I hope I disappoint him completely.

I am a Lutheran Christian--and I would not fault anyone for thinking those words function similarly. So to explain: I'm a Christian as in I follow Christ, devote myself to his teachings, pray to him, and live for him every day. I'm a Lutheran as in I am a member of a church and culture that traces back to communities of German Protestants who identified with the theology of Martin Luther. I do not follow Martin Luther. I do not follow Lutheranism. I follow God, and participate in Christianity often within Lutheran communities--primarily because of my heritage and the music.

Protestants don't have Saints in the Catholic sense, nor do we have a pope. Martin Luther is not our Saint, or someone we pray through, or our leader. We don't read his writings in church, we don't look to him for answers. He's someone many people have found wisdom in, someone who has inspired countless reformers, but he is a man. A saint in the Lutheran sense, a lowercase-s saint, a member of Christ's community--a sinner from his mother's womb. He probably wrote more about his own sin then you ever will. He devolved into conspiracy, and said horrible things about Judaism and Catholicism and Islam, and we have seen the legacy of German antisemitism (which he did not create, but obviously contributed to), and it's a good thing I don't idolize him. I honestly don't think about him very much. Yes, I read his catechism in Bible classes, but we were free to disagree with it--we were using his most basic writings as a starting point. The words of his that are most present in my life are his hymns, which we do sing often. His teachings were intended to lead people to the Bible rather than leaders/traditions, which is why he translated the Bible into German, and why I go to the Bible, not to him. I learned about his antisemitism growing up, and prayed for repentance on behalf of my ancestors.

There are people who hold Luther in higher esteem than me, to be sure. Do I think they're basically following Hitler? I don't know. It depends why they value him, I would say. Idolizing anyone is dangerous, especially men in the 1500s. I can think of no historical male writer I value that was not at least slightly misogynist. The two authors I've read today, Virginia Woolf and Shakespeare, both have antisemitic writing. Countless people sainted by the Catholic Church, and countless popes, have been antisemitic. There is no innocent tradition. I'm not trying to excuse any of this, or say we shouldn't be critical, but this is why we don't base religions on people. They have to be founded and organized by people, which means there's going to be issues (and Christianity's are quite obvious), but Christians have to remind ourselves every day that the only human we worship is the one who was God.

I wish you well, beloved. I'm glad you see the evil in my religion, genuinely. Not enough people do. I hope you continue educating people and being active in your fight against antisemitism--if you're not Jewish yourself, hopefully this shows up more as supporting Jewish people and communities, and less like borderline accusing people online for following Hitler because they still use the word for their traditions that their Norwegian great-grandparents did, because it's the word that stuck from the beginning. We're named after Luther's excommunication, not his antisemitism--Catholics would have had to change their name to Lutheran too if that was the theological issue happening. There's a whole conversation to be had on whether we should call ourselves Lutheran, but regardless, the communities and heritage exist, and will continue to evolve.

May God have mercy on the crimes of my community members. May God lead me to walk in the way of justice. May our religion serve us, and may we serve God.

<3 Johanna

[darcytaylor]

Good Day!

I have to ask because you are the most thoughtful blogger I've come across. I've read most of your archive on pap-gate & have to ask about pasta-gate.

I'm hoping you or someone can please offer me a non-aggressive insight into how & why L&A together makes sense & isn't extremely damaging at this point?

IMO, this type of SM posting goes far beyond them respecting their privacy. It's embarrassing & cringe for BOTH of them at this point if they are together. Unless he is launching her tonight, which would be reckless & a gross miscalculation on his part.. If he was responsible for papgate1 (I don't think so), but it is speculated & I have to give it light as you theorized, the premiers could distract/overshadow a launch. This is how I actually got started in this shipping mess; after papgate, I wanted to see if he was a disrespectful POS like everyone online said. I've literally come full circle, haha. It's wild.

Do people who think/assume L&A are together hate L? I ask because at this point, if they have been together for over a year, I really don't like him anymore. Someone said A simply does what she does because she isn't allowed to post him & it hurt my heart. That being said, I know I don't know him personally, but the 32 year old FBoi behavior makes me really not respect him.

Please, I'm genuinely asking for someone to explain it to me like a toddler, so I don't get the ICK from looking at him anymore, because that's where I'm at tbh & its sad.

Thank you if you post!! I know it's controversial.

& thanks to anyone who wants to participate in this conversation, I will respond in the thread if this is posted 💛

Oh man, as soon as I say I want to put this to bed, I get an ask that is rooted with empathy, so here it goes:

I want to say upfront that I don’t believe Luke or Antonia owe us anything when it comes to their personal lives or whatever relationship they do have. However, I can see that many fans have strong feelings about their connection. That said, I don’t know these individuals personally, and I can only speculate based on what’s been presented publicly. I have no knowledge as to what happens behind closed doors and the conversations that happen. I just hate seeing a fandom torn up over something that, at the end of the day, shouldn't really impact us this much. If I can provide clarity without judgment, that’s what I will try to do.

Why Luke and Antonia Being Together Makes Sense:

Personal Connection: While it may not be clear to everyone, relationships often make sense on a personal level that we as outsiders, can’t always see. Luke and Antonia might share a bond that feels right to them, even if it doesn’t align with public expectations. It’s not about what fans think is best - it’s about what works for them.

The Public Persona: The real issue here lies in how the relationship has been presented. Whether through social media or public appearances, the messaging could be seen as inconsistent and unclear, which makes it hard for fans to accept. When there’s a lack of transparency, skepticism happens, and that breeds distrust and ultimately hate.

Human Nature and Growth: Everyone makes mistakes, especially when navigating something as complex as a public (or not so public yet public) relationship. If their relationship started with missteps within the fandom, that doesn’t mean it’s doomed to fail in their personal lives. People grow, learn, and change - and that includes celebrities. However, the public fallout from how things have been handled complicates the perception unfortunately.

Why This Could Be Damaging:

Public Perception of Antonia: The way Antonia presents herself online, along with her interactions with fans, has contributed to an image that doesn’t work in her or Luke's favour (this is a sad reality because she may be a very sweet and nice person, I don't know the girl). Whether fair or not, the “mean girl” energy and perceptions of entitlement and immaturity have led to backlash. If she worked on a more grounded persona from the start, the relationship might have been received more favourably.

Luke's Reputation: For Luke, this situation could affect his image as well. If fans feel he’s making immature or irresponsible choices, it chips away at the reputation he’s built. The “FBoi” behaviour people are picking up on can understandably make people question his maturity and judgment, especially in a public-ish relationship. These doubts may even impact how they view his career moving forward.

Timing and Transparency: There was a the lack of transparency from the start (and again I don't believe they had to say anything, but it is what happens when you are in the public eye unfortunately). So, while they aren’t obligated to share details, being more open about their relationship from the beginning could’ve made a difference. The mixed signals around it led to a lot of speculation and frustration, leaving fans feeling disconnected and left out. But hindsight is 20/20.

Why Some Fans Might Feel Conflicted About Luke:

Fans vs. Personal Lives: Many fans feel that celebrities’ personal lives should remain private or at least be respected. However, when something goes wrong publicly, it’s difficult to separate personal decisions from professional perceptions. For some, they want to root for the relationship, while others feel disappointed because they believe it’s not right. These emotions can affect how fans feel about the individuals involved.

The "ICK" Factor: When something you admire starts to feel messy or contradictory, it’s natural to feel disillusioned. It's hard not to let that affect how you feel about someone, especially when the handling of the situation doesn't match the version of them you hoped for.

Taking a Step Back:

But it’s important to remember, we don’t know Luke personally. We don’t know how much control he has over the decisions being made in the public eye, and he might genuinely be trying to do what he feels is best - even if it’s not being received well.

The way the relationship has been handled publicly has made it hard for many to feel connected to the situation in a healthy way. While things may shift as time goes on, it’s okay to step back and reassess how you engage with this situation. The key is that change is possible - for both Luke’s career and his personal life - and things might look different in the future.

I don't know if this even helped. But if you made it this far, thanks for reading!

Now this really be the last post like this for a while, I hope so anyway!

[bijoumikhawal]

I've gotten tired of making a post like this every few months so let's just fire a few of these off, and feel free to add on! Tropes you should at minimum reconsider using when you write or talk about Julian Bashir:

Mentions of "harem" pants, "Arabian nights" aesthetics, etc. These are improper terminology (that feeds into racist ideas) for real things, and when using that terminology those things are often being misrepresented. For my part, if you would actually like to know about the material culture of the Middle East and North Africa, I'm a "hobby" researcher of that very topic and will readily answer asks about it- with the caveat that I mostly know about Egypt, and I'm not the best person to ask about Sudanese specific culture even though I know a little, and I don't know much about Indian or Pakistani fashion (mentioning because these seem to be the most common cultures brought up around Julian).

comparisons to monkeys, apes, the word "simian". This should be obvious but it happens a fair amount, and it's almost comedic given a common trope is to comment on how much Garak hates being compared to a lizard.

This is separate but the way some people use mammalian tips from writing xenofic and trying to understand how an alien would think and categorize things into something that feels very exoticifying. It's not a "full stop, do not do this" but it is something I've noticed

Jokes about how undesirable Julian is. He's the exception that proves the rule about fandom's obsession with white twinks and a rare example of a brown nerd who isn't pinned into the "Couldn't sleep with a woman if they were the last two people on earth" box. I'm not saying we can't make fun of how he flirts just- Stay clear of Raj BBT territory

Conversely: my most hated garashir trope is when the author makes Julian's libido a problem by making him inconsiderate, cruel, and outright manipulative in service of his dick, and the writing often makes it clear they're connecting this to his masculinity. Julian does do some really stupid shit when it comes to his relationships, but this particular way of trying to incorporate this into writing him is just OOC, and you need to not confuse writing Julian's canonical robust and healthy sex life with negative stereotypes about lecherous Black and brown men. There's fics that pull off Julian being a bit of a dick or manipulative well- such as Salt the Earth or the ageswap series (at least where I last left off on it).

making his eyes green or blue. I have the same eye color as Siddig, more or less, and while it's technically hazel (or olive, as some people call it) most people think it's brown and most lighting makes it look brown. If you look at screencaps of Julian, you'll notice it also most of the time, looks brown. This sounds minor if you haven't experienced it, but it has a real and very negative impact on people's self image.

Older one but to be clear: if you're writing Julian as explicitly Muslim, find and replacing "god" with "allah" in English text is not how Muslims (or Arabic speakers in general) use the word? It is really funny to read, but please...

Over focusing on Julian as British. There's a long, LONG conversation that could be had about the dynamics of assimilation and how European racism (ime) very specifically views it as progressive to strip people of their culture and thinks they're causing the problem if they don't go along with it that would need its own post and which I've had with white fans before and feel exhausted thinking about- but to put it simply, there is no such thing as "just British", even for white Englishmen.

Yes the inverse is also wrong but I really haven't read a fic newer than 2014 guilty of that lmao and I think some of the more recent complaints about it are overblown, given I've read only a few fics recently published that delve into Julian as a Brown/African Person and I enjoyed them

I would personally appreciate it if fic writers were a little more balanced about cultural discussions honestly. If you write a lot about Cardassian culture, it'd be nice if Julian’s background was discussed. I won't say that kind of research is easy (again, I do this as a "hobby" that's very important to me, it's actually really annoying and difficult sometimes), but it is possible. I recently talked about how not doing this kind of mentally slots Julian into a "white guy" role.

This is not a matter of me policing your "artistic expression". I have no control over what you do. I would just like for fandom, a hobby I do for fun, to be a place where people stop being racist in a way that directly impacts me.

[flowerandblood]

I'm back

And I'm back with my oneshot with Michael Gavey. He fucking came back from the dead. Some can call it resurrection.

I needed these 24 hours just for myself to think about why I was writing at all and why I was doing it.

To talk about it with my husband who, as always, knowing me inside out, said that I didn't deserve to have my work and commitment here wasted by people who don't have the courage to write to me under their own nickname.

Just to be clear - it doesn't matter when or if any of you would read my oneshot. When, why or if you will do it is neither something to feel guilty nor proud of, like reading or not anything I wrote or will write.

I remind you that's my space, not yours. Anon asks stays off, because I know who you really are.

Cowards.

From now on, I will be much stricter about what other people "opinion" should and should not be.

I will block anyone, anons, writers or readers, who cannot watch their words - even if it's on your blogs, in your asks, comments, reblogs or statements - I don't want to see any ironic, hurtful bullshit on my wall anymore.

I will block them, but I will never nag them. I just don't need them in my life, in my space. Learn from me, anon haters. I hope me coming back is your stick in the ass and not in the pleasurable way.

I don't care if you think I'm a sweet and innocent author with no flaws - I'm not. I've never been. I don't care about maintaining this image either.

Yes, I can't stand anons who send me and other authors baseless criticism. They were and will remain my enemies. I will never be nice to them, because by hiding they lose the last of my respect.

However, I have never been and will never be unpleasant to people who ask me thoughtful questions with the respect that one person can and should expect from another. Usually it's not about the question itself, but about how it was asked.

Writing anonymously to others that you wish their pets to die, that it's good that they lost their child, or to me that I don't really love my husband and I'm cheating on him because I write fanfics is not the smartest idea.

You are just sad, jealous idiots.

Now.

A few of people here are trying to keep this sticky tape glued fandom from falling apart and I sincerely admire them: @ewanmitchellcrumbs @targaryenrealnessdarling @oneeyedvisenya @theoneeyedprince @valeskafics @black-dread

This fandom doesn't deserve you, but there you are.

+ I wanted to say 'thank you' to all of the writers who just reached me to say that they are sorry, to say that I have a right to write whatever I want. Do what I want without being judged.

Finally, I cannot help but mention the wave of anonymous and non-anonymous messages from my fans, to which I apologize for not responding. I've read them all.

Many of you came out of the shadows and wrote to me for the first time, showing me how much my stories mean to you. Thank you for all the memes, photos, drawings and words of comfort, very long and very short messages.

If it weren't for you, if it weren't for my husband who told me that I needed a break - not to destroy everything I created, I would have deleted this account a few days ago. He said that I should care more about my own mental comfort, which I intend to do.

I deleted my Discord account to withdraw from the fandom a bit and to put what happened behind me. I don't have good emotions right now that I could share with you in these groups, which you deserve. I don't want to be a ghost account there.

If you want to talk to me or explain something, you can reach me in private messages.

So. Karawana jedzie dalej, as we say in Poland. Those who want to be tagged, please let me know here or privately.

I don't know when I will publish my other works, but I will.

Welcome back.

[lightningant]

I've never seen characterizations of Tom and Harry the way yours is. I love how neurotic and messed up they both are -- they're *SO CUTE* too. <3 <3 <3

Tom is just so exhausted and cynical and Harry is a manic catastrophe with sooo many crossed wires and they're HILARIOUS. XD

And just so well written, I cannot tell you how distracted I was for at least a week after I read what you had for your fic -- I truly, truly admire your narration and dialogue and characterizations (I already said that but PLEASE I LOVE THEM SO **BAD** >O< ) Soooo funny and well made.

They're realistic! Tom and Harry are so messy and also normal people at the end of the day who make mistakes and aren't super cool all the time (really, they're utter dorks, and you TOTALLY show thatt) but also they're competent and scary and stubborn and you just have suchh a nice blend of their facets and I JUST....aghhh, I love itt.

Also I ADORE your designs -- I love how Tom is so sickly and neat (you said it best "Victorian child with tuberculosis" LMAO), and Harry is so IDK, he's just a Guy but in the most wonderful way -- I'm not actually good with words :,))))

I just love your art style in general, it's like, realistic yknow. You don't get rid of normal people "imperfections", they're a part of the design or enhance them -- I don't think the word imperfections is right, I just mean like, you don't exclude non-conventionally attractive aspects of bodies or facial expressions??? Idk, I'm trying here, I really am. Just, just, just I like it a lot and I wanna be like that toooooo >.<

IIIIIIII dunno if I have accurately gotten anything across or even given an actual good compliment in this entire thing but anyways you're very cool and awesome and also PLEASE forget that I said they were Babygirl I've never used that word before in my LIFEE and don't know if that was right at all -- if it was nevermind I meant it all and am so cool -- ANYWAYS bye :,)

I don't think I've succeeded in lessening my embarrassment but uhhhhh, I hope I've at least articulated myself better :,)))

Askbomb swag. Thank you, this message was so sweet :) I shall try to match energies.

One of the things I love most is that the kind of person who puts up pretensions is, innately, trying to hide something about themselves they find sub-par. Tom isn't just a scary and incredibly powerful domineering sigma male who is a master manipulator, he is a person who is actively attempting to turn himself into that man, and in my fic he is still a teenager and still tripping his way through that mental image he has of himself. The two worst ages to ever be are 15 and 20; fifteen, when you are ready to shed childhood but don't know what maturity looks like just yet, and 20, when you are ready to become your own person and achieve adulthood, picking your way across existence-defining beliefs. And his only friend for the past like, 7 months? has been his 16-year-old self who has the single-minded objective of looking cool and mature to his adult self. A hell of his own making.

Harry is also 20. He is one of those 'unusually mature for his age' kids and he has an inflated sense of his own righteousness and capability, despite being the actual one with the emotional range of a teaspoon (he just knows to keep it himself). There is no way Harry would detect he is having a manic fit, especially if he is having one that is triggered by his arrested feelings on Sirius. It's incredibly fun writing him perform this extremely risky and reality-altering plan and his plan was "idk, kill him?" and picking shit up off the ground whenever he sees it, the DADA position included. our hero.

Beautiful tragic terminally ill gothic prince / fit jock is really a match made in heaven aesthetically. Cannot get enough of it

Thank you for art compliment too ^_^ I used to lean more to anime fandoms so Harry Potter really let me stretch my legs on more 'normal people' facial features like big noses and soft chins and I'm glad it's clear how much fun I'm having doing that. Yay! Though one of the compliments I've always gotten that I've always been proud of is how distinct the way I draw expressions is.

No no...you're right. Tom is absolutely a babygirl. And Harry...well he was certainly Ginny's babygirl, and I'm sure a part of him is really itching to have someone put their hand on the small of his back 😔

[yuri-is-online]

I guess I can call myself a returner of interest in Fyuuture kid au to the masses, and I'm proud of it🏅 the part with other four dorms was absolutely amazing! Thank you! And your reply to my previous message was so heartwarming. My baby boy🥹 Yuu really should beat the magical marshall with a slipper when they meet again, no one touches THE bestest boy😤

It seems like I'll have to write down my questions, cause I tend to forget them in two minutes 😔 but there's the one I remember:

It was discussed in one of the posts (Riddle!Yutu), how does Yutu look like?🤔 I thought he would bear more resemblance with Yuu, so everyone wouldn't quickly (or immediately with some fathers) make conclusions. Does he have beastmen characteristics if his dad's from Savannaclaw? Does he inherit Idia's hair? Can he transform into octopus/eel/dragon form? (In twisted wonderland, I mean, not in Yuu's homeworld. I've read that post💅🏻) Is he as tall as the twins? 🤔 imagine 190 sm or 6ft 3, duckling following you

Have a nice day/evening, take care of yourself!

You should be very proud of yourself annon I am having a lot of fun with this! The Magical Marshall's are a government organization so the image of Yuu charging a fed with a slipper gave me a laugh, but yes they should. How dare they hurt Yutu ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭

imagine 190 sm or 6ft 3, duckling following you

Hand slipped. Anyway Yutu wears a pretty big sweatshirt sweater dress type thing that obscures a lot of his facial features though I did briefly play with the idea of him wearing a sort of mask similar to an FFXIV ash mask:

The justification was that the air in the future timeline! Twisted Wonderland was so polluted by blot and Yutu was so used to breathing it he needed some magical assistance... I think I also wrote some bullshit about the mask applying a glamour to Yutu so he didn't need to wear the big sweatshirt, but I feel like the mask would be more suspicious than just some guy who wants to keep his hood up.

As for those unique features, yes. With the exception of Malleus! Yutu, all of the non human Yutus found themselves transforming into an entirely different species when they came through the mirror into Twisted Wonderland. It was an extremely painful experience, imagine having your parent basically die in your arms and the next thing you know you are turning into a giant pacific octopus on the floor of a castle in front of a bunch of people. Yutu should be rewarded for not losing his shit then and there. The beastmen Yutus needed some time to adjust to having stronger hearing and senses of smell, the merfolk Yutus basically missed the first few months of magic education getting used to their merfolk forms, and Yutu Shroud had his hair instantly set itself on fire and had a massive panic attack. The beastmen Yutus have to keep their extra features tucked underneath their hoodie, which is very frustrating for Jack! Yutu who has a lot of floof that suddenly has nowhere to go. Lilia! and Sebek! Yutu don't have any noticeable appearance differences (unless you like the thought of him having Sebek's hair color), but I do like the idea of their teeth getting sharper. I prefer to leave a lot of Yutu's appearance up to the reader, but I had a super clear picture of Riddle! and Epel! Yutu as being short, and the more I think about the merfolk... I see Floyd! Yutu as being a sort of middle ground between his parents's height and Jade! Yutu as being about as tall as his dad. Oh and Azul! Yutu is taller than his dad, he is a bulky boy.

Now. Malleus! Yutu. So dragon fae hatch from eggs that can only be created out of love and constantly need to receive magic from their loving parent. That clearly didn't happen with Yutu, so I don't think he can transform into a dragon. He is still clearly inhuman, he has Malleus's eyes and ages much more slowly than other humans, even in your world he looked really young for his age. Think of Malleus! Yutu as sort of playing by half-elf rules, he's going to be living for hundreds of years and as he gets older he will grow tiny horns and some scales around them. He is also the strongest of the Yutus magically speaking, he did get some love from his father after all.

I did have a thought of sorts about the whole egg thing... I mentioned before that I had played with the idea of giving certain Yutu's siblings, and while I am still uncertain of the others I can see Malleus! Yutu having a twin of sorts who did hatch out of an egg, who can transform into a dragon, and who would have been left behind in Twisted Wonderland. I have so many ideas I wrote a lot of them down but this au is already so complicated I don't know if I want to add her. I do really like it though...

[ingravinoveritas]

What do you make of David sayin he’s an ally, not an active participant (in queer subcultures)?

Did he come out as straight? I’m not sure anyone has ever asked him directly, not that he needs to give any explanations, I’m just curious because he gives off such a queer vibe even when he’s been married forever.

https://www.attitude.co.uk/culture/david-tennant-on-the-spice-girls-spiceworld-movie-was-being-developed-before-they-even-released-a-single-459815/

Oh, my Asks/DMs have been blowing up over this one. I did have a chance to read this interview with David (is it me, or is he doing nonstop press lately?) and...wow. Definitely enjoyable, and noticeably more unhinged/queer than most of his other interviews (which makes sense, given that Attitude is an LGBTQ-focused publication). But let's get a screenshot up of the most talked about bit, so we can discuss:

Obviously there is a lot going on here, so I'm just going to go with what stood out to me most. I don't think there is anything in the world less surprising than David naming bears first, given certain preferences of his (which I've discussed several times previously on my blog).

What's really interesting though is that the question was asking about queer subcultures, but all of the ones David listed are used primarily (AFAIK, though someone please do correct me if I am wrong) in mlm/gay male relationships. "Queer" can be many things, after all--gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, ace--and yet when David heard "queer subcultures" he specifically went for the mlm/gay ones, and that definitely feels like an interesting choice.

The second thing that I felt was worth discussing is that a lot of the reactions I've seen to this is people saying how adorably clueless David is, or how "he's a little confused, but he's got the spirit." And I'm sort of perplexed by this because we are talking about an almost 53-year-old man here, and I believe he knows damn well what all of those terms/subcultures are.

It's been brought to my attention (from what I would consider a very trustworthy source) that David is not at all as technologically illiterate as he pretends to be. Instead, it's actually part of a persona that he puts on to avoid dealing with issues that would arise from people knowing he is online. I had an inkling of this just from Georgia saying David was the one who set up all the equipment for when they filmed Staged at home (because why would such a task be put in the hands of someone who is hopeless with technology?). But having this confirmed also aligns with David creating a fake personal assistant in the early days of his career so he wouldn't have to fulfill certain social obligations, and to put a barrier between his real self and the world.

So why, then, wouldn't the same pattern possibly apply here?

I know there also tends to be this image of David as a "bumbling, goofy dad" type, and that's definitely part of him and what makes him so charming. But I don't think he is a fool, either--especially not after listening to him talk about Shakespeare or politics or anything else at length--and I think he certainly knows how to answer these types of questions. I think David is more than clever enough to give answers that are cheeky but not revealing, because he knows the purpose of all this is to promote the BAFTAs, not to be a deep, probing exposé on the life and times of David Tennant.

Which then brings me to the big, gay elephant standing in the middle of the room--a.k.a., "I'm an ally rather than an active participant." (Again...so many interesting word choices going on here, and none of it feels like an accident.)

Going back to what I mentioned about the focus of these interviews, I'd like to point out one notable thing that David himself said in the Radio Times interview earlier this week:

This, I think, sums up what we are seeing in all of these interviews: The version of David that he feels is safe to present to the world. He makes it clear as well that he is not going to reveal areas of his personal life while up on stage, and I would say that the same thing applies to these interviews. (It also speaks volumes that in the year 2024, the version of himself he feels safe presenting in these interviews is one who fully knows what bears and twinks--sorry, twinkies--are.)

So no, I don't think David is coming out as straight. I don't think he's coming out as anything, in fact, because he knows these interviews are not the place for that to happen. And I think that saying he is an ally but not an active participant makes the most sense as an answer for a public interview, but neither that nor being in a straight-passing relationship necessarily makes him any less potentially queer.

To reiterate what I said above, there is no one way to be queer. For some people, being queer absolutely can mean going to leather bars and participating in subcultures. But for other people, "queer" can mean something very different. It can mean being a Kinsey 2 just floating along doing your thing until you meet that one person who changes everything. The person who makes you go, "I've usually been more into this and not as much into this...but I'm definitely into you." It can mean being attracted to/falling for someone--a co-star, maybe?--that you never expected to feel that way about. And if David is queer, maybe that also means not shying away from anything, but at the same time not wanting to take the spotlight off the awards and the nominees celebrating one of the most important nights of their lives.

Those are my thoughts on the Attitude interview and David's answers, at any rate. Happy as always to hear from my followers with your takes. Thank you for writing in! x

[copperbadge]

Supposedly, people with Anphantasia don't get scared reading scary stories, or at least not much. Is that true with you if you ever read Horror?

You know, I'd never thought about it, but I suppose it is. To an extent, anyway.

Follows a discussion of my relationship to horror prose and media; if you don't know what aphantasia is, as many people coming to this tumblr don't, I have a tag for it here that may help -- it's basically the lack of a "mind's eye", a visual imagination, so I hear/read things and don't see an image of them in my mind. If you are scoffing right now that nobody actually has a mind's eye, congratulations, you may also have aphantasia. The articles linked in the tag will be useful to you.

I have definitely been scared by prose before but it's very rare, and not much since I was a child, when the stories I found scary were preying on fears I already had. I loved the Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark books, and I think it's not unusual that I found the illustrations more frightening than the prose, but the only story that ever scared me was the one about the vampire who kept trying to grab a kid through a window -- because I had a window over my bed in my childhood bedroom and I was terrified I'd look up to see someone looking down at me through it. Likewise, as an adult, the only content in horror I find scary is what I think of as "mind horror" -- the loss of faculty or the loss of awareness of faculty (think the end scene of the novel Hannibal with the brain). Which is one of my biggest fears.

I don't read much horror because generally I get bored, which has in the past made me feel faintly appalled at myself, but which now makes more sense. Certainly I have no interest in slasher-style gore in prose, because I find it uninteresting and it goes on a really long time, while I don't watch it in movies/TV because the visual is upsetting -- so if I was getting the visual from the prose I might react more emotionally. I am a fan of Stephen King but mostly his early work where he was shorter on suspense, and I was reading it because I liked the ideas and the characters. Carrie is super interesting because of the personalities involved, not because of the violence or the horror aspects. But I've never seen a movie adaptation and I can imagine I would be deeply unsettled if not distraught by certain scenes if depicted visually. Although I didn't find the Hannibal TV series super upsetting (I mostly was put off by how bad I imagined Will smelled) so perhaps body horror just doesn't do it for me.

This may also explain my hard-no on zombie media, because I'm not scared at all of zombies, I just find them boring and gross, and that leaves the post-apocalyptic humans. My hard-no on post-apocalypse anything is an aversion to imagining the end of my world, though, which isn't visual, it's conceptual, and not scary, just upsetting.

Like, people kept suggesting Zombies Run! to me when I was taking up running and -- well, one, I needed the music to keep my pace, I didn't want it interrupted. But two, I didn't see why a bunch of random groaning noises would make me run faster. If you could see zombies chasing you in your head, yeah, that'd probably be more motivating.

It kind of explains too why I haven't written much horror. I used to be very curious about how people worked out what's "scary" in horror prose and I guess part of the curiosity came from not experiencing it myself. It's tough to know how to write a scary story when stories don't scare you.

To be clear, I definitely experience fear. Reading Stephen King's "It" didn't really scare me, but there were scary moments in the film adaptations. I startle at jumpscares. There's plenty of stuff in real life that I'm scared of. And even podcasts -- I don't get mental images during podcasts like apparently most people do, but Magnus Archives got me with the "digging into your pre-existing fears" thing once or twice, and while I didn't finish The Left Right Game (I just got bored) the hitchhiker scene definitely got me. But I think, unless it's playing on something conceptual that already existed, yeah, I don't find prose particularly frightening.

Huh. This feels like the kind of thing that could have a significant impact on my creative output if I could crowbar my way into it. Knowing that I as an aphantic don't need descriptions that other people do has already, I think, impacted my editing process, but this feels like it maybe would somehow have an effect on the whole thing -- the fact that I don't experience emotions when reading in the same way other people do because I don't get the visuals is something to meditate on.

How the fuck did I ever even become a writer. Like what's up with that.

(Ironically it was X-Files fanfic. X-Files, a show that very much did scare me, for which I wrote and read a lot of fanfic, none of which did...yikes. Well, that's something to meditate on for the weekend.)

[akillerbeforeyou]

Anything.

(Kai Anderson x fem!reader)

Authors note: Heyy! This is my first time writing for Kai (and writing on Tumblr in general) so please feel free to tell me how you feel about it! It will be a two-parter (smut in the second part) because I'm lazy and didn't feel like writing more. Also, this is barely proofread.

Also! This fic is heavily inspired by a Kai bot from @fear-is-truth I wouldn't have had the motivation to start writing again if it wasn't for that bot so thank you!

Word count: around 1k

Content warning: implied sexual content, implied violence, that's pretty much it for now.

read part two here

It was my fault. I had fucked up, big time. 

From the very beginning, Kai had taken a liking to me. I've always been good at following rules to a tee with little to no hesitation. So naturally, I became one of Kai's favorites. When the role of his devoted girlfriend was first assigned to me, I assumed it was just that- a role to play- just another tactic to sway the voters in favor of him. I mean, who doesn't love a candidate with family-oriented values? it would be a way to humanize him and soften his image to the public. and who better to play the part than the one woman who had been willing to walk to the end of the world for him since the very get-go? Over time, I realized our relationship was more than just a facet of his public persona. I genuinely cared about him- and in his way, he felt the same. He would ask something of me, and I would do it. Never once since joining the cause did I feel threatened by him. Until now. 

I woke up confused, not remembering having laid down in the first place. As my vision cleared, I recognized the basement, dimly lit and empty. The grogginess I had originally woken up to started to fade as I looked down to find I had been completely tied down in the chair I was seated in. That's when I reminded myself of the previous 'mission' I had gone on with the rest of FIT where we had to retreat early to avoid getting caught after I had been the one to draw too much attention to the group. 

Fuck. Kai wasn't anywhere in sight, but I could feel his presence. I had been by his side since day one and I knew all too well how this would end. The sound of his footsteps broke the silence in the room, followed closely by his voice. 

"Now. What am I going to do with you?" I could feel his hot breath tickling the back of my neck as he leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Divine Ruler. I'm sorry. I really am." I did my best to get out full sentences but every few words I was interrupted by involuntary sniffles. "Good girls don't fail their leaders. I thought you'd learned that by now.." he paused, and I held my breath as I remembered the multiple occasions I had watched others being brutalized for mistakes smaller than the one I had just made. "You know I have to punish you, right? It wouldn't be right for you to get away with screwing up this big." he circled me as I bit my lip, trying to hold back tears and completely unable to respond. "Say something, little lamb." he paused before feigning concern "Aw, are you scared? is that it?" I looked up and nodded my head. "Well, you should be. I'm furious with you. and you know what I'm like when I'm furious at someone." my heart pounded in my chest as I scrambled to find the right words to say- if that was at all possible. "Please Kai-" I stop myself midway through using his name, knowing that will only further my punishment "-Divine Ruler, I'm so sorry I am. you know I would never purposely sabotage you, sir" I say as my lips tremble and hot tears begin to stream down my face. He leans in, impossibly close to me before continuing to speak. "How cute. Look at how much you're crying for me when I haven't even hurt you- yet." "Yet..?" I stutter watching a sadistic grin spread across his face. "That's right, little lamb. I haven't decided how I'm going to punish you yet, but there'll be a punishment, I can assure you that much." Another moment of silence as I try and think of some sort of response- to no avail, of course. "Perhaps it's time I really whipped you into shape, little lamb. Maybe then you'll learn how to behave properly like a good little girl would." His tone is cruel and sharp enough to cut glass. I inhaled deeply "Please- Divine Ruler don't you think there isn't any need for that" I looked up at him with doe eyes "I've never failed you before sir it won't happen again- don't I deserve to be let off with a warning" Normally, talking to Kai like this would be a sure-fire way to end up being thrown in a ditch- but I knew deep down he'd be somewhat more lenient with me than the others, considering our relationship. "Oh, you think you deserve to be let off with a warning? Why's that? Because you're my special little lamb, and you've been a good girl up until now?" he pauses with a light chuckle to himself "Well, I'm in a bad mood now, Y/N, so I don't really care what you deserve. I want to punish you, and no amount of pleading and weeping is going to change my mind." he said, with eyes as cold as ice and words as harsh as nails. "I've been such a good girl" I plead with both my tone as well as my eyes "Please baby, I love you" the second sentence I speak in a whisper, knowing Kai would either react extremely negatively to me calling him baby or extremely positively, but no in between. 

To anyone else, it would seem as if he did not react- but I could see his face soften as he soaked in my pleas. He would never admit it, but he liked it when I called him baby. And he liked it even more when I was begging and at his mercy. 

"Baby" my voice quivers as I look up at the man I adore- as well as fear. Kai's expression softens some more, and the cruelty in his eyes has almost completely faded.

"Again."

I take a deep breath of air and try my best to smile sweetly through the tears "Baby, every single thing I do is for you. for us. please" I watch as Kai's breathing becomes heavier. his mouth curls up into an almost predatory smile as he hears my words. "That was perfect," he says, caressing my cheek. I lean into his touch as his thumb circles over my cheekbone. His gaze remains locked on mine, filled with something seeming more like affection than hatred. He continues in a gentler tone "You are my good girl, aren't you?" 

"Of course I am. I would do anything for you." I watch as his grin returns, less sinister and a lot more warm. As fucked up and unhealthy as it was, there isn't anything that turns Kai on more than devotion. 

"Anything?"  

"Anything."

"Good girl," Kai says sweetly as if he had completely forgotten about his earlier anger

"You know what I want from you now, don't you, my little lamb?" I bite my lip, mascara stains my face "Just say the word, and I'll do whatever you want" "Hm... I could still punish you, couldn't I? You failed me when I needed you most.... you've got to atone for that somehow, don't you?" my stomach flips as he leans in even closer to me. "But... maybe I can forgive this time. I am feeling particularly generous today, after all. I've got a better idea."

"Thank you, divine ruler. you really are good to me. please tell me, what idea are you talking about sir" I ask in my softest tone, letting Kai take the rails. "Don't play dumb with me, sweetheart... you know very well what I'm talking about." he draws his hand even lower, moving it up my thigh, slowly inching upward. I throw my head back and hiss slightly as his hand trails up my thigh, a shock of pleasure courses through my body at the small contact he makes. "I'll do whatever you want. I live to serve you. Just please- untie me from the chair, baby" Kai takes a moment to think to himself before he begins unties to me. As the bonds are undone, I can feel the blood rush to my limbs once more, relief washing over me after what seemed like an eternity of suffering.

 "Good girl. Now... get on your knees."

Feel free to give me constructive criticism! I am also thinking of starting a taglist so let me know if you want to be tagged in part two/future fics. Thanks!

[ichinoue]

I just finished watching bleach, and I'm not much of a shipper, as in I didn't care for the ships. But ichihime just didn't make sense to me, I have no problem with renruki but ichihime just didn't do it. So like I'm genuinely curious as to how they stuck out for people like you who absolutely adore it, I've also seen alot of hate towards it so once again I'm curious. Is there any reason that you personally always loved the ship? Be it their chemistry? Or interactions?I don't know I just want to see the appeal

Well, for starters, if you've only watched the anime, I think that can definitely taint your perception of IH because the animators butchered it so much compared to how it actually is in the manga, especially in the early arcs. I made a post on the very first IH moment in the anime vs. the manga here although it's pretty old so the links I used as references are probably broken now. But I definitely recommend reading the manga to get a true sense of what their dynamic is like!

Honestly it's hard to sum up why I love this ship so much without pulling out a bunch of manga pages and turning this into a full blown essay of things I've already said a million times before (but I'll attach a bunch of links to some of those posts below lol).

But I just love the sweetness of IchiHime. The mutual respect. The selfless care and consideration they have for each other. How dorky they are together. The way they make each other better, and stronger. The way Orihime can pull so many passionate, emotional reactions out of Ichigo--the way he softens around her, the blind rage when his enemies use her to taunt him, the way he flies off the handle in a panic when he thinks she's in danger, the depression he fell into when she was gone, the relief he feels when he realizes she's okay. The puppy dog eyes he gives her. The way everyone else kicks him in the head or punches him to lift his spirits, but Orihime--she only has to use gentle words. The vow to protect, the rising up from the dead to keep that vow. Not even death could keep them apart. Orihime wanting to love Ichigo in every lifetime she lives, she would choose him every single time. And yet she never expected him to love her back--he just did. All on his own. He was pining for her, they were pining for each other. It was mutual long before they even knew it.

And I think Kubo did so well writing for the IchiHime relationship. It's got cute, heartfelt moments, angsty teenager moments, silly, comedic relief moments, and dramatic, life-or-death moments. You can see their development from one arc to the next, see the clear-cut changes and growth in their dynamic from beginning to end. They never stopped changing, and growing closer over time. Which created a nice, long slow-burn for me to sink my teeth into over the course of Bleach's 15 year run.

Anyway, here's some links of posts that explain different aspects that I love about this pairing:

I have an extremely long masterpost about IchiHime here, which mostly goes into detail about why I think it was obvious for canon, but it covers almost every single IH moment in detail and my love for the pairing and reasons for shipping it are pretty much woven into the fabric of this post lol.

The chemistry of IchiHime.

My top 3 favorite IchiHime moments.

Masterpost of moments where Ichigo and Orihime protect each other.

IchiHime implications of the lust arc.

Ichigo being teased about Orihime.

Ichigo's vow to protect Orihime.

Ichigo and Orihime's growing feelings for each other.

Orihime consistently being singled out to target Ichigo's heart.

Orihime loving Ichigo's kindness.

Ichigo being receptive to Orihime's feelings.

And these are some posts made by other people that I like:

A post about Ichigo's feelings for Orihime.

This one is an image post that basically combines almost every single IchiHime moment from the first to last chapter, as a visual reference.

A response my friend gave when asked the reasons that they ship IchiHime that I wholeheartedly agree with.

And another list of reasons.

I also just really love this post.

[dessarious]

This was not the Plan

New Years one shot (please let it stay a one shot)

Marinette could not for the life of her figure out how she'd ended up here. She was supposed to be at home, in her pajamas, asleep before the ball dropped. She had a plan, damn it.

That plan did not include Alya showing up at her apartment in London. Especially since she was supposed to be covering the ball drop in New York. It didn't involve said friend dragging her to an upscale party where Adrien and Felix just happened to be in attendance. And it damn sure didn't involve listening to Alya try to give her a pep talk (read lecture) about asking Adrien to kiss at midnight. No, this was definitely not the plan.

—————————————————-

Cass and Steph were supposed to be on a plane to Gotham. Unfortunately, some asshole (read Scarecrow) gassed the airport, and it was in lockdown until a HazMat team gave the all clear. Instead, they were stuck in an upscale London hotel. Which wouldn't be bad except there was a fancy New Year's party going on and the host had cornered them as they were checking in to invite them. Cass hated having to keep up a public image. But at least she had Steph to make things bearable.

They were standing along one of the walls, Steph making highly inappropriate comments at other people's expense, when Cass noticed two women. One obviously excited to be there and the other... not so much. As they wandered closer, Cass could hear their conversation.

"I feel I've been very clear on this." The one who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else sounded frustrated and annoyed.

"I know you think he's out of your league, but you'll regret it if you don't shoot your shot, girl!" Her tone was exasperated, if fond. Given the reaction from the other woman, this was a recurring debate. Cass didn't think she'd ever seen anyone roll their eyes so hard.

"I don't think he's out of my league. I'm just not interested in him. I really wish you would stop acting like we're still teenagers. It was an adolescent crush, and it wasn't healthy on top of that." Her friend didn't seem to hear her.

"Look! There he is. Now's your chance."

"Alya, you're not listening to me. Besides, that's Felix, not Adrien."

"Oh? You can tell that just by looking, huh?" Her tone seemed to imply that meant something but her friend just gave her a dry look.

"Anyone who's met them should be able to tell that." She gestured to the man Alya had pointed out. "Grumpy cat." Then she scanned the crowd before pointing to another man identical to the first. "Excited puppy."

Cass observed the two and had to admit the other woman was right. It kind of reminded her of the difference in Damian and Jon's personalities. The first man was comfortable in the setting, but was extremely standoffish and full of himself. The other was happy and friendly, talking to anyone who got close to him.

"Quit stalling. It's almost midnight."

"Alya, I'm not-"

"You can't bail on me this time. Do you have any idea what it took for me to get tickets to this party? Give me one good reason why you can't go ask him to kiss you for New Years."

Given how red the other woman's face had gotten during her friend's rant, Cass expected an explosion. What she wasn't expecting was for the woman to turn and pull her down into an angry, almost desperate kiss. She didn't know how to react, so she just let it happen. Honestly, she felt bad for her... it was also kind of nice if she was being honest with herself. When the woman pulled back, Cass was a bit dazed. She turned on her friend.

"That's why!" And promptly stormed out to the balcony. Cass was startled out of watching her when Steph let out a laugh.

"I'd say that's a pretty good reason." Steph's amused tone caused Alya to flush red before storming off in the opposite direction from her friend. "You should go check on her." Cass raised an eyebrow at her and Steph gestured to the balcony with a knowing smirk.

"Do you really think she wants to see me? That had to have been embarrassing." Cass signed at her in confusion, but Steph just turned her and gave her a push towards the balcony. Cass still wasn't certain it was a good idea, but Steph had a better understanding of such emotions, so she went. She found the other woman leaning over the balcony, muttering into her crossed arms. "Are you okay?" She spoke in English even though they'd been talking in French before hoping she understood since they were in London. She could understand French well enough, but speaking it was trickier.

"I'm fine." She said it in English, barely audible. When she looked up Cass watched her go through a variety of emotions. First was exhaustion, then confusion, recognition, embarrassment, and ending with horror. "Oh dear Kwami, I can't believe I sexually assaulted a complete stranger. I am so sorry!"

"It's okay." Cass hadn't thought of it that way, but she supposed it was technically true.

"It's not okay! It's the complete opposite of okay. I can't believe I did that. I'm such a terrible person. I understand if you want to call the authorities. Or I can do something to make it up to you. I'm a fashion designer, not that you need new or better clothes, you look amazing in that dress, but if you wanted something, or I can tailor some things if you need it. Nothing will make up for-" The woman wasn't stopping to breathe and Cass had been trying to get her attention, but ended up latching onto her forearms to get her to stop. The guilt in the woman's eyes was painful to watch.

"I'm Cass." It wasn't what she really wanted to say, but it did stop her, well for a second anyway. Then she looked embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng." She started going through her handbag and pulled out a business card. She wrote on the back before handing it over. "That's my work phone on the front. I put my real name on the back and my personal phone number so you can get a hold of me for whatever you decide. I really am sorry." Cass frowned at the card for a moment. "Is something wrong?"

"You're the designer for Foundational Fashions?" She couldn't help her surprise. It was an innovative brand that Jason had actually introduced her to.

"Oh, um, yes, but I'd appreciate it if you would keep that to yourself. I try to stay below the radar."

"I know." That got a confused blink. "My brother and I have been trying to find a way to commission you for a couple of years."

"Then I can make you something, both of you, to apologize." She sounded almost excited at the idea, and Cass had to force herself not to frown. No way was this worth whatever her prices were.

"I wouldn't feel right not paying you. Just getting a slot for a commission is more than enough." The woman's expression fell and Cass would blame that for what happened next. She really didn't like seeing her unhappy. "There is something else."

"Of course. Anything."

"Let me kiss you at midnight."

"Sure, no problem... wait what?" Cass looked for any sign she'd made Marinette uncomfortable, but all she saw was confusion. "After what I did, why..." She didn't seem to be able to finish the thought. "I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of people who would love to... why would you pick me?"

She seemed genuinely confused, and Cass didn't really know how to respond. The longer she stayed silent, the more Marinette drew in on herself and she had no idea why. She didn't seem to object to the actual kissing part though, so Cass felt a bit less creepy about asking.

"I don't want to kiss anyone else." Marinette's cheeks turned bright red and Cass was worried she'd said the wrong thing. "Earlier I felt... I would like to try it again." It was times like this she wished she was better with words. When she looked back at Marinette, the woman was studying her. She seems less embarrassed and more thoughtful.

"There's still half an hour until midnight. Why don't we sit and talk? Maybe start on you commissions."

————————————————--

Cass looked relieved at the suggestion, and Mari realized she wasn't the only one floundering. She still couldn't believe she'd done something so stupid and could only be glad that Cass didn't want her arrested. Once they were settled at the table that happened to be on the balcony, Mari wasn't certain where to start.

"So, what are your hobbies?" That was a good starting place, right?

"Ballet, and I do martial arts."

"Well, that certainly explains the physique." Yes Mari, let's be even more creepy. She absolutely should not be flirting.

"What explains yours?" She could practically feel Cass' eyes running down her figure. Okay, maybe she should be flirting.

"I grew up in a bakery. When it comes in bulk, everything is heavy. And once I got into design, bolts of fabric aren't light either. Then, Hawkmoth showed up, and I ended up in self-defence and parkour classes with a lot of my friends. Nothing anywhere near as structured as what you've done, though." And the whole superhero thing, but that was definitely not a conversation for a first... whatever this was.

"What happened to him?" Marinette fought not to wince. That was the million dollar question that only she knew the answer to. It was an extremely messy take down, and she'd had to wipe the memories of everyone involved. Including Adrien because of how badly he'd reacted to finding out Gabriel was Hawkmoth.

"All we know is that Ladybug said he'd been taken care of and she and Chat were retiring. Most people were just grateful it was over, to be honest." Granted, that attitude was helped along by the fact that no one could find her to question the official story. "Where are you from? Your accent sounds American."

"I live in Gotham." Cass' tone was odd but Mari couldn't place why.

"Oh, then you're used to worse. At least most of the damage Hawkmoth did could be reversed. The emotional toll was bad enough, but I can't even imagine constantly being afraid that anyone around you could end up dead in the next attack." Cass gave a hum, and Mari was worried she'd offended her.

"It is... difficult." Mari noticed Cass moving her hands as she spoke and realized she'd been doing it since they started talking. "I think most people have developed a sense of apathy, or maybe just put on blinders to the danger until it actually happens, since there's not much they can do if one of the major rogues decides to attack. At the same time, more and more people and organizations are coming together to try and help each other. It is still hopeful, and Gothamites are stubborn."

"Yes, people seem to be able to get used to just about anything if they have to." Humans were extremely adaptable, and that wasn't always a good thing. "Oh! You're signing, aren't you?" Mari hadn't meant to say that out loud and given the embarrassed look on Cass' face, she shouldn't have. "Sorry, I just noticed the movements."

"It's how I first learned to communicate. My childhood was... unorthodox." Given her tone, Mari had a feeling that was an understatement. "I can stop if you-"

"No! I mean it's fine. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable." Mari really, really wished she could stop making an idiot of herself in front of the woman. She'd like to blame the sleep deprivation from her per Christmas dash to get everything done, but this was just how she was. She always turned into a disaster around pretty people. It's why she was so nervous around Adrien originally, because he had always been extremely pretty. Other people had called him handsome, but his features had always been too delicate for that. It took Mari three years to understand why she thought she liked him. And wasn't that a fun week long mental breakdown?

"It's fine. Some people just seem to think I'm trash talking them instead of going through the motions to help find the right words." Mari could only blink at her for a moment.

"I feel like those are the same people who are constantly trash talking people in their head and projecting that on to you." Cass let out an amused snort.

"Probably." They settled into a comfortable silence. It was nice, if Mari was being honest. Too many people she knew felt like they had to fill the silence, even when they had nothing to say. As the minutes ticked by though, she started to get nervous. Cass obviously noticed.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to." Mari started at her voice. God, she needed to not be so high strung.

"It's not that... honestly, this whole thing is just a bit bizarre. It would have made more sense for you to have slapped me. I'm just... trying to make sense of things." Mainly because, in her personal life, she wasn't this lucky. Then again, Cass was from America, so this probably wouldn't lead anywhere. And that thought made her realize that so far, she did want this to go somewhere. Great.

"I don't think there's a lot of people here that would slap a beautiful woman for kissing them." Mari felt like her face was on fire. This woman, her seriously could be a model, thought she was beautiful? Yep, crush officially formed. Shit.

"That still doesn't excuse my bad behavior. I shouldn't have taken out my frustration with Alya on other people. My being pissed off that she never actually listens to me is no reason to do what I did."

"I don't know. She seemed to get the message." Mari just sighed.

"Maybe. That or I'll be getting an extremely long lecture about embarrassing her tomorrow." Probably the second. Might be a good idea to find somewhere else to crash after the party. And figure out when Alya was set to leave London so she could avoid her until then. She loved her, but she was beyond sick of the whole Adrien thing.

"She should stop talking and start listening." Mari let out a giggle.

"Can't say I disagree, but I don't see it happening. Alya's extremely stubborn about certain things."

"If you're not willing to make excuses for your bad behavior, you shouldn't make them for hers, either." Mari blinked at her before letting out a huff.

"In theory that's true. But I can't control her actions, only mine." Cass let out another hum. Before she could say anything, people inside started counting down.

10

Oh dear Kwami, this was really happening, wasn't it?

9

Maybe it was a trick. Cass' way of getting back at her for what she did.

8

No. The way she was looking at Mari... she was actually going to do this.

7

Come on, Mari. It's just a kiss.

6

A kiss from someone with the softest lips she'd ever felt, but just a kiss.

5

Okay. Her heart felt like it was about to explode. She might actually pass out.

4

No. She is not going to create another scene tonight. She just needed to breath.

3

When did Cass get so close?

2

What if she was disappointed in the kiss? Mari was pretty confident in her abilities, but she had no idea what kind of experience Cass had.

1

What if she wasn't disappointed? What were they going to do then?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Cass closed the distance, and Mari just closed her eyes. Yep, definitely the softest lips ever. She was going to have to ask how she managed that. When Cass deepened the kiss, Mari's brain completely short-circuited. This. This is what home was supposed to feel like. She was so screwed.

When Cass pulled back, it took her a minute to remember to breathe. When she finally opened her eyes, she was on the receiving end of the softest look she'd ever seen. Suddenly, Gotham was looking like a better idea. Surely she could do some good there. She forgot how to breathe again when Cass cupped her cheek and ran her thumb over Mari's bottom lip.

"Happy New Year." The words were as soft as her look and Mari, for once, thought that for once, it actually was a good start to what was looking to be the best year she'd had in a long time. Even if it hadn't been her plan.

[anyasivy]

a little unfinished and UNCORRECTED snippet from my alcina x reader fic but this part is so very ada wong x reader.

"Is your real name really Ada Wong?" You found yourself asking, your head laid (quite too comfortably) on the mercenary's chest. For a moment, you allow yourself solitude. You've been avoiding Chris after Alcina's visit yesterday, and the relentless buzzing of your phone proved he wasn't too pleased with it. Still, you can't bear to make a decision much too soon.

Thank God Ada came back just in time. She'd been a step away from your doorframe, and you'd already lunged yourself at her in a desperate act of salvation. Your mind, at constant and head-aching war, had gone silent as the afternoon set in, the sheets atop both of your bare figures, and you found yourself wanting to hide in this moment. The images of Alcina in your apartment felt like a distant, yet all the same painful memory. You force yourself to push her at the back of your head.

You still had time.

Ada replies, her voice soothing and laced with the kind of gentleness that had your heart soaring. For all that Ada was, she never failed to make you feel at peace. "No," Her fingers made its way to the sides your arm, tracing invisible lines and circles. "But it's an identity I've found myself more familiar with." She explains, and you start wondering yet again how she'd come to be like this. Her history, a mystery like the woman she is, intrigued you more than you'd like to admit.

That very same second, your mind came to a decision. Surprisingly, it didn't scare you like you thought it would. It had to do with Ada. She'd seem to have a knack for making things look safer. Better. You run a tongue on your lips, heaving a sigh, "Tell me more about you."

She stiffens, "What's the matter with you today? Oh god, don't tell me you've fallen in love-"

You laugh heartedly, effectively cutting her off. Whilst you weren't against the idea of holding that kind of affection for her, you stressed you were quite taken already. Your heart, as always, belonged to the woman who seemed to be so intent on breaking it at every turn. You craved those golden eyes no matter what, though.

"It can't hurt to share," you urge, hoping she'd hear the sincerity in your voice. Hesitantly, you add, "I've somewhere to go, Ada..." she had frowned, clearly unknowing of where this conversation was going. "I doubt I'll want to go back here again."

The hand on your shoulder pauses in its movement, and you find yourself moving as she starts sitting up. You follow suit, looking back at her. You were the curious one. Ada's known that all along, but you never pressed on matters like this, knowing she'd shoot you down with either a word or clear-cut, harsh rejection.

She narrows her eyes, "Is Redfield getting to you?" You shake your head no. "What's going on, [Y/N]? Somewhere to go- what, you plan on disappearing again?"

You bit your lip. Bingo. You didn't speak, letting her understand and sink in the information. Reading Ada Wong's emotion is a full-time job. In a way, she was alike Alcina with how they masked their expressions with frightening expertise. But you see the slight furrow in her eyebrows, and you find yourself inching closer, hoping the little changes in her neutrality would be more visible.

"Ada."

"I've forgotten," she finally says, and you listen attentively. "Everything of my childhood. It's a blur, and I'm certain most of what I retained are stories I told myself in order to fill in the gaps." Your lips parted in surprise, and your initial response was to comfort the woman, but she'd taken ahold of your hand, stopping you before you could. She continues, "Eida was a name given to me by the man who took me from my family. Or rescued me. Like I said, I don't know which is real."

"Do you remember him? His name? We have millions of resources, Ada. Not to mention the technology we have today. We could track him down. Ask answers." Your voice took on a firm tone, in which Ada found amusing. She's aware of how much you care. You practically broadcast it every time she was with you, but your sincerity still bewilders her from time-to-time. Especially because she's tried to engrave in your mind how this was just benefits and not friends with benefits kind of thing.

The mercenary takes a sharp inhale, her thumb caressing the soft skin of your hand, "I don't want to," She admits and rolls her eyes when you frowned, because of course you frowned. "I don't live in the past, [Y/N]. Even Eida was an unknown identity. She's a stranger to me. And so were the rest of my names."

"Then who are you now?" You push, "I want to have something of you to remember, Ada."

"You make it sound like you're dying,"

You chuckle softly, "I might as well."

"...fine." she mumbles, "I know- from the courtesy of who I currently work for- that I was born on December 4th."

You gawk, and when you stayed as is, Ada shoves your shoulder, causing you to fall on your back against the mattress. Without a moment's notice, you start laughing. Ada considers your sanity.

"It all makes sense!" You exclaim, scrambling back to her and ignoring how the sheets have fallen down to her stomach. God, 4 rounds were enough. Plus, you had somewhere to be in an hour or so. Musing, you snicker, "You're a Sagittarius."

Ada scoffs, "I've given you vital information, and that's all you've gathered with it?" She glances up at the clock on your wall, noting the time and giving you another push on the shoulder. "Not worth it,"

You giggle, "Hey, I'm disappearing, as you claim. Want those to be your last words?" You meant to tease, but when Ada looked back at you, her eyes had a certain fondness attached to it. Concern. You pull her in for a quick kiss, a silent reassurance that you'll be fine. She places her hands softly on the sides of your head, urging you on. You'll miss this, you admit. It was so easy with Ada, and it didn't help how soft her lips were, how gentle. She nips, and you pull back with a smirk. "You'll miss me,"

"Take care of yourself, [Y/N]." Was what she said back. You considered calling her out with the fact that she didn't exactly disagree on your accusation. If anything, she seemed to have accepted that she would, as much as she wishes not to, miss you. She can't help but ask, "Do you want me to find you?"

"No."

She nods her head curtly. "Okay,"

Ada started dressing up, and you allowed yourself to follow, letting your hands wander on her waist. She melts almost immediately as your lips find refuge on her neck. She always smelled so good. Probably her shampoo. Ada would be far too perfect a human being if it was her natural scent. You exhaled as you pushed her back further into you. You nibble at her skin, murmuring, "I'll miss you too."

A small smile tugs at her lips, successfully buttoning up her shirt. When she finished dressing, she turned to you with a serious look, "Don't die on me, [Y/N]."

You could only flash a cheeky grin as you said, "I have ways with death."

"That makes two of us."