#a catalog of non definitive acts

[p4nishers]

[hcneymooners]

dad’s best friend ambessa perhaps ..? :3 i love ur age gap fics ur so talented

⋆ come, and be my baby.

dad's best friend!ambessa x f!reader. men & minors dni. synopsis: you've always been a troubled, searching girl. ambessa, your father's long-time best friend, is your self-ordained solution. cw: age difference, older woman/younger woman, reader is implied to be between 22-24, emotional hurt/comfort, dom/sub, dom!ambessa, sub!reader, you're a little bit of a conniving bitch still love you tho, unhealthy relationship dynamics, codependency, slight emotional manipulation, listen you had to lock in, non-sexual intimacy, pleasure dom!ambessa, rough body play, manhandling, pet names, lesbian sex, dildos, vaginal sex, implied penetrative sex, implied strapping, oral fixation (ambessa), praise kink, mommy kink (specifically mama), implied exhibitionism, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, begging, spanking, impact play, face sitting, desk sex, you guys are definitely freaks but you love love love each other.

notes: hi, honey baby. this might be the most erotic questionable thing i've ever written. i hope you're happy with it. i went a little overboard and a bit non-conventional with the trope. i adore you & thank you for requesting, mami.

two things in this world reigned absolute: that you were glad your life would only be lived once, for you couldn't do this again, and that you were ambessa medarda's favorite girl.

the medardas were a family heavy with conflict, and perhaps that's why the matriarch and your father were best friends. they both were volatile people, sometimes prone to cruelty, with soft spots for certain people that were darkened with rot at the edges—perfumed with the sweet notes of their rage.

you were both of their favorites, and therefore, when your parents got divorced, you'd acted through the narrow scope of a confused and aching little girl and chose your father. once you'd shed that naive nature, you traced your way back to your mother in secrecy. you indulged in hushed phone calls in the middle of the night, timing your exits from your room with the fading beat of your father's boots as you left.

every month, she promised to get you.

the glass would fog with your breath as you waited in that tall, flaking phone booth, each passing car's headlights casting long shadows across your face. you memorized every crack in the booth's floor, every water stain on its ceiling, until they became as familiar as your own disappointment.

you wore the same outfit: thick, wool tights in burgundy tucked under the gleaming straps of your mary janes and layered underneath the dark denim of your favorite jeans. you cradled yourself into a black turtleneck, your hair tamed into two plaits that rested against your neck underneath the fabric. your eyes would be wide and searching, one hand gripping the curved handle of your brown leather suitcase and the other shaking around your well-loved copy of prozac nation.

she never came, but you showed up every time.

one night, a maserati did skate up to that ancient meeting spot, and you straightened from where you'd been dozing standing up. an overly tinted window rolled down, and you were met with the strong gaze of ambessa medarda, whom you hadn't seen since your early days. you didn't remember much, just yellow-tinged memories of being spoiled by her and being picked up and tossed into the bright sky above the farm she owned.

she must've moved back.

at first, she said nothing, just cataloged your most recent iteration of your "going with my mother" outfit and worked her jaw. finally, she leaned over and popped open the door before leaning back and letting you make the choice. embarrassed and teetering on the edge of emotional collapse, you slid in and shut down as she pulled away. this was how you met her again. seventeen and sobbing, emotionally wrought and disappointed from all angles. you probably came off unbearably young, dreamy, and unprepared for the challenges of real life.

it was only later that ambessa revealed that her first thought was that you needed a mother, that you needed her. that you were a girl abandoned and fighting your best against the more experienced hands of life.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

from then on you were her newest daughter, until you weren't. you noticed how 'miss' became 'dear' became 'darling,' each new endearment a step closer across the chasm between you. the way she said your name changed too, softening at the edges like butter left in sunlight.

by nineteen, you were practically sequestered to her house by your personal desires, curling at her hip as you grew into yourself. even now at an older age—still far younger than her—you came home from university only to lay all of your belongings in the warm wood of your makeshift bedroom (the guestroom, really). she taught you to appreciate aged whiskey, watching with amusement as you struggled not to grimace at the burn.

"small sips, little one," she'd say, her hand warm against your lower back.

you learned to love the taste, if only because it meant sharing these quiet moments in her study, the leather of her armchair creaking as she leaned forward to pour you another finger's worth.

you and mel even developed a soft friendship that lessened the tension between her and her mother, tall arguments tempered by the agreement that they would not aggravate your ptsd from the divorce days. sometimes you caught mel watching you both with worried eyes, but you'd grown tired of other people's concerns.

you'd rather have this - ambessa's fingers absently playing with your hair as she read reports, the way she automatically ordered your coffee exactly how you liked it, the subtle possessiveness in how she introduced you to her colleagues.

regardless, you knew that you and ambessa's relationship spun on an axis that could be labeled uncomfortably intimate, maybe even imbalanced. for all that everyone said, you couldn't find it in yourself to be concerned. you regarded her as all that you had, something that wouldn't leave.

she indulged you, kissing your forehead when she came in from a day at work or texting you about what replacements you had wanted for certain items on the grocery list. she rarely called you by your name, always coaxing you forward with firm, warm pet names. they were swollen with affection, a doting '(my) sweet girl', 'baby girl', or 'little one.'

your favorite one was invoked from a spontaneous trip to paris to meet an art collector she'd purchased from, only to return bearing handcrafted soaps and a penchant for calling you 'chouchou.' that stopped about two weeks later, but you wrote it down under your list of desired tattoos. what didn't stop was the way she'd buy authentic silken scarves to tie around your neck with careful precision, her fingers brushing against your pulse point in a way that sent you shivering.

the shift was gradual, like watching shadows lengthen at sunset. one evening, as thunder rolled outside and rain lashed against the windows of her study, she pulled you closer than usual. ambessa’s fingers traced patterns on your skin as she read, and when you tilted your head back to look at her, she met your gaze with an intensity that made your breath catch. the thunder cracked again and the peeking champagne of your bra strap slipped down your arm. still, neither of you moved.

the moment was eventually broken by mel’s surprise of coming home for the weekend. you pulled yourself upright, intending to put together a small plate for her. before you could leave, ambessa strolled up behind you and adjusted the strap, so that it was firm and held tight to the delicate bones of your shoulder.

for a moment, you thought you’d felt her lips right beside it.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"you're not a little girl anymore," she murmured one night, weeks later, her voice carrying the weight of aged whiskey and unspoken promises.

you were curled in your usual spot beside her, but everything felt different - charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle. you couldn't remember when the maternal comfort of her touch had transformed into something more, but you knew there was no going back.

"i haven't been for a while," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart hammered against your ribs. her hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze, and you saw in her eyes the same hunger that had been growing in your own.

your fingers traced the rim of your whiskey glass, ice long since melted. the study had grown dark save for the amber glow of her desk lamp, catching the silver in her hair like moonlight on water.

you'd noticed her watching you more lately, her gaze heavy with something between concern and desire.

"you remind me of her sometimes," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "mel, when she was younger."

the comparison should have stung, but you knew better. you'd learned to read between her lines, to understand the weight she carried. you were not mel's replacement - you were something altogether different, more dangerous.

you set your glass down carefully, the crystal making a soft sound against the carpet.

"i'm not her," you said, voice steady as you rose from your chair. "i won't leave."

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and threat. her laugh was low, throaty.

"no, baby girl. you're nothing like her at all, are you?"

she spoke the endearment deliberately this time, watching how it made you shiver. you'd both been playing this game for months - you with your calculated vulnerability, her with her careful restraint.

you moved to stand behind her chair, hands resting on her shoulders. through the silk of her blouse, you felt her tension, the way she stilled like a prey animal. but ambessa medarda was nobody's prey, and you both knew it.

"i need you," you murmured, the words leaden. you were trying not to sound as crazed as you felt . "and you need someone who needs you."

her hand came up to cover yours, her gold rings dense and cool against your skin.

"you're very clever," she said, something like pride coloring her voice. "i should send you away."

"but you won't." you pressed your lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her perfume - something expensive and french. mango wood and black rose if you remembered correctly, discovered during your illicit investigations of her bedroom. "because you understand me better than anyone. because we're the same."

she turned then, catching your wrist in a grip that walked the line between gentle and controlling.

"the same?" her thumb pressed against your pulse point, counting out the rhythm of your wanting. "you're barely older than my daughter."

"age is just a number," you said, and then laughed at how young it made you sound. "no—that's not what i mean. what i mean is that we both know what we want. we both know how to take it."

the silence stretched between you like spun sugar, delicate and sweet. outside, leaves skittered across the gravel drive, and somewhere in the house, a clock chimed eleven. you watched emotions play across her face - desire, concern, resignation, hunger.

"if we do this," she said finally, her voice rough like aged bourbon, "there's no going back. no playing innocent. no running away when it gets hard."

you smiled, all teeth and triumph poorly disguised as submission.

"i told you," you said, sinking to your knees beside her chair, resting your head against her thigh like you had a hundred times before - but different now, charged with intent. "i'm not going anywhere."

her hand found your hair, nails scraping gently against your scalp.

"my clever, terrible girl," she murmured, and you could hear in her voice that she'd surrendered to this animal between you. "what am i going to do with you?"

you turned your face into her touch, lips brushing against her wrist where her heart copied yours, beat for beat.

"keep me," you said simply. "just keep me."

the study grew quieter still, the only sound was your shared breathing and the distant whisper of wind through bare branches. you'd won, you knew, but then you'd been winning since that first night in the maserati, since you'd looked at her with calculated tears and let her save you. you loved her - truly, deeply, with all the fierce possession of your young heart - but you'd learned from your mother's absence that love wasn't enough. you had to learn how to hold on to what you wanted.

and oh, how you wanted this - wanted her, with her silver-streaked hair and elegant hands and eyes that saw right through you and wanted you anyway.

her fingers tightened in your hair, and you looked up to find her watching you with an expression that made your breath catch. the lamp clicked off, and in the sudden darkness, you felt rather than saw her move. her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

"stand up," she commanded softly, and you did, letting her guide you until you were perched on the edge of her desk. the wood was cool against your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of her body as she stepped between your knees. "are you sure about this?"

your answer was to reach for her, fingers curling into the cotton of her blouse.

"i've never been more sure of anything."

the clock struck quarter past, and the last autumn leaves rattled against the window as she leaned down to kiss you, tasting of whiskey and an affection hard won.

you kissed back lazily, squeezing your thighs together as one of her hands came to direct you by the base of your neck. she slotted the two of you together, lips sliding and grasping at each other between soft inserts of tongue. your teeth seemed to buzz with unnamable energy as she leaned forwards, hands bracing around you, so close to cupping your ass.

you needed her touch, needed to know whether your fantasies had been well-conjured or only pathetic in their imaginings. you’d spent nights tucking your fingers into yourself, trembling quietly as you pictured the shape of her mouth and how it would fit over you.

as if reading your mind, ambessa firmly spread your legs apart with a forceful hand and came closer to you. you let out a weak moan as her teeth scraped your neck, a hand coming to press down on your stomach as if to see how much space she had to fill.

you were so immensely grateful for the flimsy structure of your sleep shorts, the fabric tugged easily down your legs by only one of her fingers. she used that same finger to feel out the shape of your clothed cunt, her throat trembling with a low sound of satisfaction.

you were wet and desperate, wrapping an arm around her broad shoulders so that you could grind against what was now two fingers.

ambessa moved your panties aside with no great effort, sliding a finger into your tight heat. gradually, she built a rhythm inside of you until you were bucking where she held you. after a minute, she slid it out and into her mouth.

“mmm,” she said consideringly. “my babygirl is so sweet for me.”

you’d swallow a boat of fucking blackberries if you had to, choke them down despite your allergies and sealing throat if that meant she’d taste you again.

“ambessa.

she laughed and you saw her eyes glittering in the dark, the light brown so bright with want they seemed gold. it was then you realized you’d never said her first name alone before, and she must’ve realized as well because her hand suddenly clenched around your throat.

“do you remember when you turned twenty and got drunk with those miscreants from the town over?” your mouth twitched at her avid disgust. she could be quite classist. you’d work on that. “you don’t because you practically drank your body weight, but i do. do you want to know why?”

you gasped out a ‘yes’ as she used her free hand to grope the peach of your ass before switching to thumbing at your pebbled nipples.

“i remember that birthday because you stumbled into my room and climbed into bed with me.” you felt dread rising. “you bumped against my back, like a little bunny, and worked yourself into quite the state. and the whole time you kept apologizing. you were saying ‘sorry, mama’, all slurred and saccharine, over and over till you finished.”

you were so hot with shame you could’ve set the house burning. she smiled, slow and teasing, as she pinched your nipple hard. you let out a high moan.

“i liked that.”

you were squirming now, two of her massive fingers back to stretch your pussy.

“i liked it very much. i had to make sure not to wake you as i fucked myself.”

your eyes widened, like two coins, as the words registered. ambessa laughed again and lowered to her knees, yanking you forward so your ass hung off the edge of the desk. she was still tall enough to tower over you, shadowing the sopping mess of your cunt.

with an annoyed roll of her eyes, she pulled her fingers away and reached behind you, returning with a pair of scissors. with two efficient cuts, your panties were hanging in tatters around your hips. your pussy was exposed in all of its pink glory and it pulled apart with a soft squelch as she pushed your thighs up and out, guiding your hands to hold them for her.

she tugged a hair tie from around her wrist, drawing her gray mass of curls into a loose bun. several strands fell around her face, but she only pushed them impatiently behind her ears. you slapped your hand around blindly, eventually flicking on the bright desk lamp.

“i want you to see me,” you breathed, and she cupped your cheek.

“i’ve always seen you.”

and with that, she went down. she started with a long, luxurious lick up your cunt, her lips suckling around your clit as she reached the top. you moaned loudly and dropped your hands from your thighs, raising them to tug and pinch at your tits. she kept your legs open by sliding the bulk of her back between them, sliding back down to lap at your hole.

for someone as rigid as ambessa could be, she was messy when eating you. she didn’t care to savor, not right now. she’d wanted you for what felt like forever, and you wanted to black out beneath her.

she further spread you open, thrusting her tongue into your heat and feeling you clench. back and forth she went, slobbering over the pink of you until you were tearing up. she suctioned her mouth over one of your lips, large and gleaming, pulling away so that it slid from her mouth with a wet extended ‘pop!’. you clutched at her head, rocking yourself into her unforgiving hold. she blew gently over your hole, watched as it fluttered.

“mama, please.”

tenderly, she grazed her teeth over your clit, soothing the sting with her tongue as she sank three fingers inside of you. ambessa fucked you hard and fast, your tits bouncing as you whimpered with a hand over your mouth. a hand came down like thunder on your ass, the crack hard and hot. you wailed and clutched at her, begging her to go faster, to mark you, to swallow you whole.

“there you are, baby girl. tell me what you need.”

“mama, wait—” you shuddered around her crooked fingers, the world turning white as your head grew hazy. “wait. mama.”

“hmm?”

you scrambled at her, pushing her until there was enough space to slide from where you’d settled at her wrist. wobbling, you turned on your hands and knees, pushing your ass up into her face and falling into a brutal arch.

“like this please.”

“anything for my girl,” ambessa said and you shook because you couldn’t see her face but you could feel her voice.

her fingers dove back into you, her mouth joining the effort. you were floating, only briefly aware of the consistent slaps to your ass through the pain ricocheting pleasantly through you. you pushed back, fucking yourself the way you wanted. she let you, steadying you when you began to lose rhythm.

“bessa, i can’t—i can’t see you,” you slurred and she hummed into your weeping pussy.

your stomach grew tighter and tighter, the world narrowing down to the way she slurped and worked into your cunt. you gripped the opposite edge of the desk, extending yourself as your orgasm began to boil over. quickly, ambessa swung herself under you and brought you down on her face. her arms flexed around your stomach, the corded muscle circling you as she moaned into your cunt.

the vibrations set you off. you felt like you were flying, like you were fucking free.

“oh shit, mama. fuuuuckkkk.”

your voice was unrecognizable to yourself, cracking and raspy. time stretched and winded. you knew your legs were shaking, that you’d squirted over her and yourself.

you didn’t know how, but ambessa was undressed now and rearranging you like a doll. you were back up on your knees, but she was draped over you with her heavy tits branding your skin with their warmth and weight. her hair was down and around you; it smelled like her shampoo, a curtain of coconut and cinnamon.

she bumped her hips against you, caught the silicone tip of a dildo again and again against your loose hole. you turned your head and opened your mouth like a baby bird so she could spit into it, stuff her fingers in.

she began to break into you, bullying your cunt into accepting her cock. you did what you always did. you pushed back and let her in.

you only ever gave her what she needed.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

morning light filtered through dense curtains, casting the bedroom in baby pink. you watched your rings catch the light as you stretched - the marquise diamond throwing prisms across egyptian cotton sheets, your simple gold band warm from sleep.

you'd chosen them together - ambessa insisting on the marquise cut for the engagement ring (something as unique as you, sweet girl) while you'd wanted the classic simplicity of the wedding band, a quiet echo of forever.

the bedroom remained your favorite place - all cream linens and dark wood, familiar as breathing. in the mornings, you could pretend time stood still, pressing chapped kisses against her strong bare arms in the quiet before the day began. sometimes you climbed on top of her, sunk as far as you could into the broad helm of her body.

despite the passing years, she remained your most fortified sanctuary.

"baby girl?" ambessa's voice carried from the en-suite, still commanding even wrapped in morning softness.

you could hear the water running; a bath being drawn.

“coming, mama.”

© hcneymooners. ⚚ special taglist: @sugrcookiiee @icespiceluva @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3 just pop me a message or comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

[daflangstlairde-art]

DaFlangstLairde's Whumptober 2024 Masterpost

Tag: #dfl's whumptober 2024

The fanfic series on ao3

Prompt 29: FATIGUE | "Who said you could rest?"

lightning in our fingertips today

Chapters: 3/3 Total word count: 12,810 Summary:

Donnie and Leo get hit with a wayward body swap spell. You could say it gives Donnie a new perspective on the matters of his dear twin. When was Leo going to tell them that his Ninpō hurts him?

Prompts covered:

06. Not Realizing They’re Injured | Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms 07. Unconventional Weapon (sort of) | Magic With a Cost 24. Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure 31. "I'm alive, I'm just not well.” .x. Body swap

attached, severed (you're here, you're not)

Chapters: 1/1 Total word count: 4,763 Summary:

The Technodrome never wanted to let Donnie go of its own volition. Krang One quite literally had to pull him out. Something terrible lingers, not quite gone. (Alternatively, The Prison Dimension never wanted to let Leo go of its own volition. Mikey quite literally had to pull him out. Something terrible lingers, not quite gone.)

Prompts covered:

09. Obsession | Bruises 16. Necrosis | Wound Cleaning 20. Emotional Angst | “It’s not your fault”, 21. Spirit Possession (kinda) | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” 22. Bleeding Through Bandages | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good.” 30. Hospital bed | “What have I done?” .x. Regret

A Catalog of Non-Definitive Acts

Chapters: 3/3 Total word count: 15,500 Summary:

Love was cauterized out of him young, because that is how you survive. But coming back home with the Splintersons, Leo craved. He craved and he ached and he hungered. Because the Jitsu family loves. They love ardently, fervently, they love in a way Leo has never, ever seen before, they love in a way Leo could never even conceptualize much less dream of. (She’s always taught him, by word but much more by example, to take what he wants and settle for nothing less.) 

Prompts covered:

02. Trust Issues 11. Loneliness 13. Team as a Family 15. Childhood Trauma | Moment of Clarity | “I did good, right?” 26. Breakfast Table | "I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, by the actions I have hated."

Turtle and the Fox

Chapters: 12/12 Total word count: 53,527 Summary:

And it was embarrassing. Leo could choke down the pain, he could choke down the anger and hatred, he could turn hope into a sickly sweet thing like a mirage. But the embarrassment. It was always so strong. It was humiliating, always sharp and churning. Always made him far, far too aware. — Instead of getting evil hair and going to a spa, Leo ends up kidnapped by some weirdo. Shockingly, he has a bad time.

Prompts covered:

01. Search Party | Panic Attack 03. Set Up For Failure | “I warned you” 08. Isolation Chamber 10. Blow to the Head | Slurred Words | Passing Out From Pain 12. Starvation | Underground Caverns (…sorta) 18. Revenge | Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and I take it” 25. Being Monitored | "It's for your own good.” 27. Muzzled | Voiceless 28. Denial | CCTV | Exposure .x. Secrets Revealed .x. Shivering

Love is Love is Love is

Chapters: 1/1 Total word count: 2,488 Summary:

Leo's always been an affectionate thing.

Prompts covered:

19. Blood Trail | "Is there anybody alive out there?” .x. No-Holds-Barred Beatdown .x. Vermin

[clownrosary]

CLOWNROSARY OFFICIAL STONATHAN FIC RECS

if u follow me on twitter, you may have seen that i made a silly "stonathan wrapped" presentation for some friends :) and part of that was a list of all my fav stonathan fics, which i am sharing w u all today <3

these will all be sorted by genre, and include WC + some tags!

happy reading :D

FLUFF

wild is the wind - seraphy (first kiss, hurt/comfort) - 9k

no kingdom to come - lesbianrobin (established relationship) - 1k

Please linger in my doorway. - Lynnn_x (secret relationship) - 3k

Hey Sailor - Star_Madison, Xirayn (humor, script/screenplay format) - 1k

you just keep me hanging on - Kypros (slice of life, friends to lovers) - 15k

Into Slumber - listlessness (established relationship, massage) - 1k

sun in an empty room - Kypros (gender roles, internalized homophobia) - 5k

prepared for absolution (if only you’d ask) - delusionaltogether (slice of life, friends to lovers) - 18k

Plastic stars. - Lynnn_x (established relationship, sharing a bed) - 800

terms (of endearment) and conditions - dharmainitiative (established relationship, sickfic) - 1k

ANGST

teenage wasteland - kypros (Steve character study, non-linear) - 3k

halfway to home - fastcardotmp3 (grief/mourning, friends to lovers, past steddie) - 15k

Mondegreen - Xirayn (post-canon, Kas!Eddie) - 3k

bruises that won’t heal - witchjeons (exes) - 3k

Great Pretender - BenLMoore (childhood friends, trauma) - 13k

All this, and love too - (Steve character study) - 4k

Five Stages of Moving On - listlessness (epistolary, pining) - 1k

the free fall - kypros (established relationship, angst) - 4k

AU (MODERN)

i bet you think about me - dharmainitiative (exes, miscommunication, hopeful ending) - 38k

june bug versus hurricane - until_then (angst, baseball, hopeful ending) - 27k

Big Mouth - loudsnapdragon (FWB, miscommunication, happy ending) - 35k

Those people problems. - Lynnn_x (developing relationship, slice of life) - 21k

AU (CHILDHOOD FRIENDS)

The Way the World Ends - KidA_666 (exes, angst) - 22k

And if you lost it all, (and you lost it) - GibbousLunation (pacific rim, angst) - 11k

and i danced myself to death - flwrgardens (coming of age, non-linear) - 11k

SERIES

The Chicago Chronicles - lithium_creep (roommates, getting together, domestic fluff) - 11 works

Undone (Like Me) - ceruleanandconvalescence (childhood friends, POV alternating, angst) - 2 works

A Catalog of Non-Definitive Acts - KidA_666 (slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers) - 4 works

IN PROGRESS

Old Friends and Dead Ends - stott183 (boxing)

nowhereland - kypros (timeloop) 

So It Goes - KidA_666 (reincarnation)

A Haunted House With a Picket Fence - nay_na (apocalypse)

[jeeyuns]

✍️ Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out by Richard Siken

Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out You will be alone always and then you will die. So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog of non-definitive acts, something other than the desperation.

[unforth]

I've debated multiple times doing something like cataloging racist microaggressions I see in the danmei tags and making a post about it. I generally see at least one a day, and I block the worst offenders. But in the end I'm a white USAdian and it's really not my place. I'm sure I don't even catch them all.

It's a real issue and I've seen a lot of anecdotal evidence that it drives Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans out of participating in Westernized Tumblr danmei fandom, and that's utterly unacceptable.

One of the most common ones I see is how people talk about the character names. For example:

[Image ID: screen cap of a text post. It reads: "This all came about when I was looking at SVSSS memes on Ao3 and went like "My friends nor coworkers would get heads or tails of what in the world these alphabet smash assortment mean let alone know that they're referencing Soecific individuals or novels." End ID]

THIS IS A MICROAGGRESSION. For fuck's sake, people, acting like the names are ridiculous, incomprehensible, outside of what "friends and colleagues" could comprehend, is RACIST AS FUCK. And I see people say stuff like this constantly.

"But I only meant I was struggling--" THEN WHY DID YOU ASSUME OTHER PEOPLE WOULD STRUGGLE THE SAME WAY? STILL RACIST

"But I could say that about the abbreviations in any--" BUT YOU SAID IT ABOUT THIS FANDOM SPECIFICALLY AND CONTEXT FUCKING MATTERS AND IN THIS CONTEXT IT'S RACIST.

"But it was on my personal blo--" LOOK IF YOU WANT TO BE RACIST ON YOUR PERSONAL BLOG I CAN'T STOP YOU BUT IF YOU TAG ORIGINAL POSTS INTO MAIN FANDOM TAGS THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE WILL SEE YOU AND KNOW YOU ARE RACIST.

The person who posted the above, when I said it was a microaggression, demanded to know how. So, for them and everyone else in this fucking fandoms, I present what any of them could have learned by googling the term. The definition of microaggression:

(Source)

[Image ID: a dictionary entry for the term "microaggression." It reads: "noun. A comment or action that subtle and often unconsciously or unintentionally expresses a prejudiced attitude toward a member if a marginalized group (such as a racial minority)." End ID]

What that screen cap says about names is literally the textbook definition of a microaggression.

Chinese names are just names. The way Chinese sounds is just the way a language sounds. Cultivation is inherently based in Eastern culture and cannot be completely divorced from that context even for a cute AU. I'm so tired of seeing posts saying things like "MXTX just stole the plot of (insert Western myth/folktale/fable here)". Do yall realize how fucking racist you're being? Do yall realize how fucking racist even I've probably been by accident because I'm also a dumb white USAdian?

I've been holding this post in for like a year, but the person who posted that screen cap, who doubled-down by posting a non-apology to all the MXTX main tags, and who acted like I'd said something insane when I told them it was a microaggression...they're apparently my last fucking straw.

DO BETTER, WHITE WESTERN DANMEI FANDOM. We all need to learn and listen and knock it the fuck off already. Me included.

Please, please listen when people say "check yourself." Seeing this stuff everyday is exhausting even for ME and I'm not even in the marginalized group. Chinese people (including diaspora) who stay in the fandom here despite the constant deluge are strong as fuck and they do not deserve this and, as a white person, I'm so so sorry white people are like this.

[zosanficrecs]

"a catalog of non-definitive acts" by demonzoro

~5k Rated T

[sroloc--elbisivni]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Usagi Yojimbo, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leonardo/Miyamoto Usagi, Lord Noriyuki & Miyamoto Usagi, Leonardo & Splinter | Lou Jitsu, Casey Jones & Leonardo (TMNT), Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit & Miyamoto Usagi, Casey Jones & Miyamoto Usagi, Kitsune & Miyamoto Usagi, Leonardo & April O'Neil (TMNT) Characters: Miyamoto Usagi, Leonardo (TMNT), Casey Jones (TMNT), Tomoe Ame, Kazumi (Usagi Yojimbo), Lord Noriyuki (Usagi Yojimbo), Kitsune (Usagi Yojimbo), Big Mama (TMNT) Additional Tags: Elements from TMNT 2003, Battle Nexus (TMNT), Hidden City (TMNT), Worldbuilding, Getting Back Together, Disguise, Sneaking Around, Forgiveness, Looney Tunes Shenanigans Series: Part 12 of bunnyguard Summary:

Or: I want more seats reserved for heroes. Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.

Leo tried to flatten himself even closer to the roof even though there was absolutely no reason for Usagi to realize he was here. Usagi was preoccupied right now, anyway, carrying one end of a stretcher and talking with its occupant. He also looked like he hadn’t been sleeping enough. What was that about?

...Whatever. Not Leo’s problem. Leo was here to keep an eye out for accidental Krang summonings, and that was it. Usagi said he wanted space. Leo was giving him space.

Or: Miyamoto Usagi and Leonardo Hamato get their grooves back and figure out what they want--separately and together. Also, a lot of other stuff.

it is the last bunnyguard day ever goodbye

[the-cosmos-withinus]

Shadow Puppets AU - The Archivists

General Headcanons

They are the physical manifestations of stars, similar to the character Yvaine in Neil Gaiman's Stardust

Groups of them form constellations and refer to one another as 'siblings' but not as in modern definitions re: brother and sister, they means any relationship in a familial bond

in this case the two eldest, the Archivist and the Preserver would be more closely defined as the parents of this group, which is why they are the most decorated

They are Collectively known as the Archivists after the Eldest in their Constellation, though individuals and pairs have come to be known by other names as well

All of them are non binary, but some of them would have chosen to use pronouns if given the chance

The Archivists technically started the war by attempting to wipe out the Titans, but were acting out of fear after discovering the Titans were immune to their power and the Collector was imprisoned before the conclusion of the war leading the Assessor specifically to begin acting out of revenge

Because they are actual stars, when they die, their corresponding star is destroyed, along with any of their surrounding planets, which means that the actual death toll in the Archivist/Titan War was immeasurable

The Archivist

No face reveal, they are an enigma. The Preserver is the only one who has ever seen the Archivist without their hood

They are eldest of this constellation and founder of the Universal Archive House

Would go by He/They pronouns

They started the mission to preserve endangered species

already more solitary than the rest of their constellation and rarely seen outside of the House, but since the Titan war has become a complete recluse due to blaming themselves for the Assessor and the Cataloger's deaths as well as the Collector's disappearance

The Preserver

The second eldest star in the Constellation, known in tandem with the Archivist as 'the Observers' since they were non-interfering explorers before they began archiving endangered species.

Would answer to she/they pronouns

Was also the one who was closest to the Collector, the only one who would actively stop what they were doing in order to play with him

Openly opposed the war with the Titans and refused to take part in any of it.

They mourn their fallen and have become somewhat reclusive as well, but not nearly as much as the Archivist

Still has faith that the Collector is alive and periodically sends one of his toys out to search for him, this toy is known on the Boiling Isles a the Wailing Star.

The Assessor

The largest of the Archivists, but actually is the second youngest after the Collector

The most hostile and war-like of all the Archivists and if anyone could be pointed at as the one that actually started the Archivist/Titan War, it would be them because of their constant fearmongering

They are the one that the Titan Trappers actually knew as 'The Grand Huntsmen'

Though referred to by the Trappers as he/him and masculine in appearance, if the Assessor ever discovered She/Her pronouns they would have taken them and never looked back

Spent most of the war in search of the Collector and with their dying breath told the Trappers to kill the last Titan in order to free 'them' referring to the Collector

The Cataloger

The Cataloger was the overworked one that never had time for anything, including pronouns (might have tried she/them)

Though too busy for the Collector, they would humor him by listening to him talk about the specimen he collected as they cataloged them

Victim of the Assessor's fearmongering, fought in the war and was the creator of the Draining Spell

The Cataloger was the first Archivist casualty in the war

They have a passing resemblance to Odalia Blight because of a now abandoned plot point of the AU had this resemblance to his sibling was the reason that Astrophel chose Odalia to be 'Mamadalia"

[roseyuri]

oh my head is full.

Ik pnpyns parents gotta be HOMOPHOBIC ASFF

I think pnpyn is picking "safe men" like a lot of comphet sapphics

now.. this can either be with men that are unattainable, like celebrities or men you know won't like you..

OR

with men that already like you, and because they like you, you get into a relationship to convince others (or yourself) you're perfectly straight

she "fixates" on men that already like her, so she tries to force herself to like them. she's definitely aware she's atleast interested in women in a non straight manner, and is trying to push it down. Probably dislikes minji for bringing those feelings up and instead convincing herself that attraction is hatred (love and hate are two very similar emotions)

I think pnpyn in the argument got distracted by minji cause she's pretty and... Got mad. She's probably terrified of people suspecting she's gay, and will immediately refute the claims. some people do this by presenting as homophobic but... She's an idol I don't think she's doing that LMFAO

It's probably a really sensitive topic.. I bet she picks male celebrities she likes out of a catalog of "safe" guys she has in her head LMFAOO

her relationships never last long because she doesn't love them in the way they want or the way SHE herself wants.. the comphet is beating her ass

This will create a veeeryy interesting dynamic.. I feel her on a spiritual level I realized I was gay watching charlie's angels because LUCY LIUUU😭😭😭😭😭

poor pink 2000s girl watching mean girls seeing Regina George ik her ass was just convinced she appreciates the outfits... girl.

anyway I think that she probably has a lot of resentment towards herself because of this. she probably views herself in a bad light and definitely berates herself if she catches herself staring at minji because "girls can't like girls she's probably straight why are you being weird" and such.

especially in a country like korea. I'm hispanic and it used to be really bad here, if you were gay in public you risked your life and family. it's gotten better, but not only is she an idol but living in a not very accepting country.. and it's obvious her parents probably caused this so she risks losing her FAMILY. she probably thinks her members would hate her too so I can't blame her for being defensive. If someone even tries to make a joke about her not liking men I think she would SPIRALLLL she'd be like "FUCK THEY FOUND OUT" and be like uhmm no im not gay lmao have you seen (male celebrity) hes so hot (lie)

overall, while I can't gather her character from just one work, she definitely puts on a "unbothered girlboss" persona to hide her self hate and paranoia. she probably actually doesn't like herself at ALL.

do u think she is terrified of liking women in a male way. like how men belittle her and only see her for her looks do u think she's afraid to find women attractive in case she's "acting like a man" and also belittling them and such because that's like. lesbian experience.

one day she's gonna be found taking an am I gay quiz shaking and crying at the results guys mark my words.

ALSO. hope she has a breakdown over realizing (accepting) she's gay btw❤️I hope she actually starts crying screaming convinced her members r gonna HATE her ong

also.. other people can send analysis I don't own analysis LMFAOOO I would love to see other ppl take a crack at it especially characters I don't rlly understand (wowyn)

like I'd love to get a little more insight on specific characters from the lense of people with wildly different experiences. there is no such thing as copying character analysis I do not own this!!! u r not competition ur my friend.. coworker, even. All of us working together at the analysis factory 😞😞 we should unionize 🤓

I would love if people who have experienced comphet come and give character insight on pnpyn as well!!! I hope to see more ppl sending analysis but RICHGIRLYN IS MINE‼️💥💥(JOKE)

the mitski song I condemn her with is come into the water (maybe I'm the same as all those men, writing songs of all their dreaming— but would you tell me if you want me? cause I can't move till you show me)

-🎏

this is an amazing first analysis on pnp!yn I feel like some of ur views on her might change a little as the story goes on but I’d say most of things you think about her are pretty spot on.

I always find it funny that it’s hard for u to analyze wow!yn’s I feel like because ur not the biggest fan of her it makes it hard for you to understand her because there’s some asks that I’ve gotten on her and they’re pretty spot on with her. but she rlly is my most complex yn so that kinda makes me glad that you have a hard time understanding her that means my job is done

[rowanisawriter]

AO3 Wrapped: 6, 18, 23

thanks bestie! ao3 wrapped here

6. Favorite title you used

my titles are usually very simple, one word most often maybe two that covers the theme of the fic but this title “a catalog of non-definitive acts” (from a richard siken poem) is a lot more precise and gave the fic structure and helped guide me as i wrote it, actually if i hadn’t chosen this title before i started writing i think it would’ve been a completely different fic lol

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

PATROCLUS he’s complicated, people can’t seem to agree exactly how he should be portrayed, so the fandom such as it is is pretty divided…. in incidental contact i wrote him angry and kinda bitter, in legacy i wrote him kinda bitchy and ambitious, in glass slipper he’s a little more soft but still hides a secret roughness… he’s so complex but it’s so fun taking him apart

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

no but maybe i could make it a goal for next year, my writing process is unhinged and entirely vibes based so ive always thought that a writing partner would be driven insane if they had to work with me but maybe lol we’ll see…

[gotmolokoplus]

Every morning the maple leaves.

Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts

from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big

and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out

You will be alone always and then you will die.

So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog

of non-definitive acts,

something other than the desperation.

Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your party.

Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I came to your party

and seduced you

and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing.

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?

A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.

Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on.

What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.

Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly

flames everywhere.

I can tell already you think I’m the dragon,

that would be so like me, but I’m not. I’m not the dragon.

I’m not the princess either.

Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down.

I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure,

I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow

glass, but that comes later.

And the part where I push you

flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks,

shut up

I’m getting to it.

For a while I thought I was the dragon.

I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was

the princess,

cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle,

young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with

confidence

but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess,

while I’m out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire,

and getting stabbed to death.

Okay, so I’m the dragon. Big deal.

You still get to be the hero.

You get magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights!

What more do you want?

I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’re

really there.

Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?

Let me do it right for once,

for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes,

you know the story, simply heaven.

Inside your head you hear a phone ringing

and when you open your eyes

only a clearing with deer in it. Hello deer.

Inside your head the sound of glass,

a car crash sound as the trucks roll over and explode in slow motion.

Hello darling, sorry about that.

Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we

lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell

and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.

Especially that, but I should have known.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together

to make a creature that will do what I say

or love me back.

I’m not really sure why I do it, but in this version you are not

feeding yourself to a bad man

against a black sky prickled with small lights.

I take it back.

The wooden halls like caskets. These terms from the lower depths.

I take them back.

Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.

Crossed out.

Clumsy hands in a dark room. Crossed out. There is something

underneath the floorboards.

Crossed out. And here is the tabernacle

reconstructed.

Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all

forgiven,

even though we didn’t deserve it.

Inside your head you hear

a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you’re washing up

in a stranger’s bathroom,

standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away

from the dirtiest thing you know.

All the rooms of the castle except this one, says someone, and suddenly

darkness,

suddenly only darkness.

In the living room, in the broken yard,

in the back of the car as the lights go by. In the airport

bathroom’s gurgle and flush, bathed in a pharmacy of

unnatural light,

my hands looking weird, my face weird, my feet too far away.

And then the airplane, the window seat over the wing with a view

of the wing and a little foil bag of peanuts.

I arrived in the city and you met me at the station,

smiling in a way

that made me frightened. Down the alley, around the arcade,

up the stairs of the building

to the little room with the broken faucets, your drawings, all your things,

I looked out the window and said

This doesn’t look that much different from home,

because it didn’t,

but then I noticed the black sky and all those lights.

We walked through the house to the elevated train.

All these buildings, all that glass and the shiny beautiful

mechanical wind.

We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too,

smiling and crying in a way that made me

even more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I

just couldn’t say it out loud.

Actually, you said Love, for you,

is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s

terrifying. No one

will ever want to sleep with you.

Okay, if you’re so great, you do it—

here’s the pencil, make it work . . .

If the window is on your right, you are in your own bed. If the window

is over your heart, and it is painted shut, then we are breathing

river water.

Build me a city and call it Jerusalem. Build me another and call it

Jerusalem.

We have come back from Jerusalem where we found not

what we sought, so do it over, give me another version,

a different room, another hallway, the kitchen painted over

and over,

another bowl of soup.

The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell.

Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time.

Forget the dragon,

leave the gun on the table, this has nothing to do with happiness.

Let’s jump ahead to the moment of epiphany,

in gold light, as the camera pans to where

the action is,

lakeside and backlit, and it all falls into frame, close enough to see

the blue rings of my eyes as I say

something ugly.

I never liked that ending either. More love streaming out the wrong way,

and I don’t want to be the kind that says the wrong way.

But it doesn’t work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats.

There were some nice parts, sure,

all lemondrop and mellonball, laughing in silk pajamas

and the grains of sugar

on the toast, love love or whatever, take a number. I’m sorry

it’s such a lousy story.

Dear Forgiveness, you know that recently

we have had our difficulties and there are many things

I want to ask you.

I tried that one time, high school, second lunch, and then again,

years later, in the chlorinated pool.

I am still talking to you about help. I still do not have

these luxuries.

I have told you where I’m coming from, so put it together.

We clutch our bellies and roll on the floor . . .

When I say this, it should mean laughter,

not poison.

I want more applesauce. I want more seats reserved for heroes.

Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.

Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out” by Richard Siken. From Crush, © 2006 by Yale University, published by Yale University Press.

[apple-pecan]

Sin and Punishment (2000)

once upon a time, a small company called Treasure existed. they made a bunch of awesome games but none of them sold particularly well, but that didn't stop them. until the early 2010's in which case they actually did stop. oops. either way they had a bunch of cult classics under their belt and had the idea to partner up with nintendo themselves to work on their first fully 3D game.

thus Sin and Punishment was made and it sold twelve billion copies and solved world hunger and world peace was finally achieved. just kidding, no one bought it because it was a japan exclusive N64 game, a country the N64 did awful in. a north amercian release was in mind from the very beginning (to the extent that all the voice acting is in english and not japanese) but it was cancelled because nintendo are cowards. thankfully they rectified this mistake in 2007 when it got released on the virtual console and it's been playable on all their main home consoles ever since. about time.

so what's the deal? why's this game so good? think star fox 64 with the plot of end of evangelion. it's a rail shooter where you have a rapid fire gun, the ability to melee enemies if they get too close, and a player character bound to the laws of gravity that can walk from left to right, jump, and dodge roll. there is also a worthless lock on mode that you should never use.

what follows is a non-stop barrage of action, explosions and vast amounts of awesome boss fights. so, like the best kinda games treasure made. BUT IN 3D!!!!!!! it's always a rush of energy and fun and there's never a dull moment. but it comes at a price: this game is horrifically short. you can easily beat the entire game in around 40 minutes, and aside from unlocking harder difficulties there's not that much of a reason to play again. except yes there is because the game is fun as balls and you can replay it to get a high score. i guess what im trying to say is think of this more as an arcade game rather than a full fledged AAA adventure, and you'll be good.

if you bought this game back when it first came out (somehow) the steep price would've been an issue. but if you have the nintendo switch online expansion pass, this is included in the nintendo 64 catalog for the low low price of 0 dollars. i mean, besides paying for the expansion pass but. you know what i mean. or you could pirate it that's fine too. either way, play this game however you can, it's the very definition of short but sweet. definitely treasure's best game on the N64, just narrowly beating mischief makers, and honestly one of the best games on the N64 in general. play it, you won't be disappointed.

9/10

NOTE: my favorite part was when saki turned into EVA-01 and said "AWW YEAH IT'S SIN AND PUNISHMENT TIME" and he sinned and punished the evil twin clone of the planet earth so hard it exploded. this joke is still funny right.

[daflangstlairde-art]

A Catalog of Non-Definitive Acts — Chapter 2, 4737 words

Part 3 of DFL's Whumptober 2024

Work Summary:

Love was cauterized out of him young, because that is how you survive.  But coming back home with the Splintersons, Leo craved. He craved and he ached and he hungered. Because the Jitsu family loves. They love ardently, fervently, they love in a way Leo has never, ever seen before, they love in a way Leo could never even conceptualize much less dream of. (She’s always taught him, by word but much more by example, to take what he wants and settle for nothing less.) 

Here's chapter 1

Still no schedule, not even a mention of it, nothing to clue him in about anything that's going to happen. That's alright. Maybe it was another test! Leo would nail it. The novelty of everything was as fun as it was scary, like facing a type of Nexus opponent he's never faced before, mind ticking away with ideas on what he could do.

Still, he did not expect the next slot to be reserved for shopping. 

He supposed it... kinda made sense? He did need more clothes. The others also wanted him to get stuff for his room, but later.

As far as Leo knew, mutants and yōkai were supposed to stay hidden from humanity to the best of their abilities. 

But here they were. In a thrift shop. In broad daylight. Standing in front of a packed clothes line, the other three huddled around him as he tried to pick. The Splintersons had reassured him new yorkers didn't pay odd sights much mind—that’s normal apparently—and yet they still had... “disguises” on. So, just... clothes. 

He would say regular clothes, except the clothes were barely regular, and he was saying that as a performer. They insisted they had to be inconspicuous, and yet wore bright colors in fun shapes and patterns. Leo was so bewildered it circled right back around to being impressed. 

Confidence and standing out were admired in his line of work. Also it was just... charming. They liked the fun colors and shapes, so they wore the fun colors and shapes, heedless of, like, any external factors. Bold!

But anyway. That's not the point. 

The point is, that during breakfast, Raph accidentally knocked over Mikey’s juice and it stained Leo’s shirt (the big guy was still very apologetic over it). And that’s when theyrealized Leo didn't have any clothes with him. He didn't take anything from his old room, because it wasn't really his. None of it ever was.

(“Why didn't you mention it?” Donnie looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, and Leo... didn't know how to reply to that. Was he supposed to mention it–?

Yes, apparently, judging by the disapproval on Donatello’s face. 

“Now I’ll know for next time,” Leo reassured, easy-going as always.

(I’ll do better, I promise.)

So. Mikey excitedly brought up the idea about going thrifting. And now they were thrifting. Shopping second-hand, which is another new experience to be written on the list of many. 

Right alongside the fact that they encouraged (wanted) Leo to pick out clothes on his own. For himself. 

He’s coordinated outfits for himself before, but... it was always a test? Like– an assignment. He would not only get to but he’d also be expected to ask for details—what type of event is it? Is there a theme? What are our business relations with the attending guests? Will there be food, movement? What’s the general temperature? What theme is Big Mama going for with her own wardrobe? On and on and on.

And now all he got was–

“Yeah, you just pick anything you like!” Mikey beamed at him. 

And make sure what you like aligns with what is acceptable and what we like. 

“Riiight,” Leo nodded, feigning understanding, even though this is the third time he’s tried to subtly ask for clarification without outwardly asking for clarification. He just needed something to work with, anything, but it's like they were purposefully making it as vague and open as possible! 

“Don't worry about money,” and “Nah, not for any special reason,” and all.

(This theory got even more credence as Mikey literally elbowed Donnie when he started opening his mouth, probably to give some pointers.)

They hadn't even told him the budget! Or how many articles he was supposed to get! He was completely lost and he did not like it. 

Well, at least he was rarely punished for janky outfit coordination... he could just completely improv it, he supposed... was that a good idea? What if they didn't like it? What if they didn't like him? What if they didn't have the funds? Leo knew they were far from Big Mama’s class. Or– well, that is why they were getting second-hand... 

If the uncharming habits hadn't been broken out of him ages ago, he’d be biting his lip or his nails, or fidgeting. 

Okay, Leo, what can you deduce? The sewers were... moderate temperature, thanks to Donnie’s air conditioning. But the surface got very cold in winter, right? It wouldn't be winter for a while, but... he should probably get something warm? Or would that be implying his room was not a satisfactory temperature, which would be insulting?

They... oh! Right, they go on patrol and fight crime! Right, so something to allow for movement, okay, perfect. That ruled out a lot of options. And! They're ninjas! Sneaky! So less flashy stuff, right? Even if it was so wildly different to his usual direction, which was to gather as much attention as possible. 

He probably shouldn't pick anything they had trademarked, mainly through their individual color schemes. But he wasn't sure whether he would be allowed to claim a color, so... neutral palette. Can't go wrong with a neutral palette. White stained easily—as previously shown, so maybe something low-maintenance instead. 

...Well, he did need better pants... 

Leo could almost hear the others hold their breath as he started looking through the hanged clothing. Following him like ducklings as he carefully started browsing the options. 

...Hm. Well, he’s always liked the idea of tank tops and T-shirts, they’d been pretty comfy the few times he’d worn them...

There. Two articles of clothing picked out. 

First, a sage-olive colored T-shirt, large and loose to not only accommodate his shell, but also give him a pleasant range of motion. Fit his skin tone, didn't clash with the red on his face, and since it was a relatively dark color, it would be pretty okay with sneaking during the night. Cotton meant it would be pretty easy to wash, and would be good with most temperatures. 

The second article was harder, because accommodating the lowest lip of his carapace in a way that didn't look awkward was always a hassle. So he chose some sort of... black pants, baggy. Not sure what the type is called, even as he wracked his brain. He really hoped he wouldn't be quizzed on it. You could say memorizing things like this was also never his strong suit, haha! The material wasn't stiff or itchy. Good for movement. Had two pockets. 

It was a bonus that both articles of clothing seemed really comfy to wear, and Leo has almost never gotten the opportunity to indulge in loose, genuinely comfortable clothing. Not unless it was, like, pajamas or silk.

“I think this might work, huh?” he turned to the others with the two things. Not great to ask for feedback like that—it showed insecurity over whether he was successful and a lack of mastery over the subtleties of conversation—but it was the best option he had.

He didn't pick out accessories, because one pointer they had given him is that they were here to shop for clothes–

“That's it?” Raph blurted out, a little... surprised? 

Dang. Okay, so, Leo messed up, what else did he need? What was he missing? Shoes??? He already had shoes, and this store didn't cater to yōkai, how would he find shoes here–

“N–”

Mikey sent Raph a withering glare, and Raph seemed to... catch himself, immediately waving his hands and saying “No no, I meant–!” he took a breath. “Leo, if these are the clothes you like, they're yours. If you like ‘em.” oh, right, they knew he usually had his clothes picked out for him. Hm. “If this is all you want and-or need for now, that's totally okay. We can always get more later if you change your mind. But! If– if there's something else you also want, don't, uh...” Raph’s speech trailed off, gesturing around. The big guy wasn't very big on words. 

“Don't hesitate to get it, we’ve got the money,” Donnie finished for him. “Don't feel restricted based on how much it costs, or, hm, what else do you feel restricted about?” 

“Or about anyone else’s opinion but yours!” Mikey tied up their reassurance with a little bow, grinning.

Leo was, for the tenth time in the last twenty four hours, once again left baffled. 

That– hm. Okay. That was... an incredibly directly communicated concept. So much so that he was struggling to find the underlying meaning, leaving him to question simply, wow, do they... really mean that? 

He couldn't catch their game. They were still looking at him expectantly. Probably for his reaction. 

Was this... also a test? Did they want him to double down on his choice, and then tell him if it’s right or not? He was getting more and more lost. 

“...I think it’s a good starting point,” he said carefully. That was pretty neutral. They could build off of that if anything was wrong.

They grinned at him, appearing genuinely happy, and he relaxed a little, and they moved along to pay for the new set of clothes. 

Phew. Another test that he simply nailed. He was so good at this.

—

“So, anything else you want for your room?” Donnie brought up, as they were exiting the thrift store. Leo had a single bag with his clothes. The others also had a bag each because they simply couldn't help but get some stuff for themselves. They also seemed to simply enjoy browsing.

Hm. What else could Leo be expected to get? It's a cell. What is he going to get, wallpapers? No.

He also didn't know how long he would be staying there. Since he was inside it all the time, he would start to get worried about a vitamin D deficiency or something, but... they'd take that into consideration, wouldn't they? Big Mama always did, she always wanted him in top shape. Managing his diet, his room, consistent medical check-ups, yada yada. And they were turtles, they’d know how important it is to bask and stuff. So they’d give him what he needed in regards to that.

Hmm. Dang. Donnie pulling out the hard questions. 

Well, so far, they were always happy whenever he showed some... “personality”. They kept nudging him to “get what he liked” and to “do what he liked” and all, so, maybe something along those lines? They wanted him to cement his persona well, rather than sticking to what’s neutral and therefore safe?

But what would he get for his room? 

They had a dojo for exercise equipment, they had separate bathrooms. Make-up and body-slash-skincare wasn't included in the specifier “for your room”. 

He could see them waiting, expectantly, for his reply, could see they wanted to offer stuff but were holding themselves back. Interesting. Probably because they wanted him to guess the right thing again. 

What the heck was it??? 

A carpet??? What would he need a carpet for??? Interior design was not his thing, one of his worst subjects. He was lucky it was one of the most minor, too, reserved for the future for when he would manage Big Mama’s hotel; but it could really help right about now. 

A different curtain? Some other type of furniture? 

...Oh! Right! He's an idiot, jeez! He wanted to facepalm. Of course, how didn't he think of it sooner?

“I think a mirror could be helpful,” he answered indirectly. “To keep up a proper image,” 

How had he forgotten that he didn't have a mirror? He supposed it skipped his mind, because last night and this morning he’d used the one in the bathroom when brushing his teeth and washing his face.

“Got it, anything else?” Donnie noted it down on his phone.

...

Okay. Um. There was more? How much more was there??? Leo thought he'd figured out the only thing??? 

“...Mikey’s drawing might get stained or worn without a frame,” he added, answering and defending his answer all in one. “I wouldn't want that to happen,”

“Awweee,” Mikey cooed, and Leo felt satisfied he’d figured that out as well. “Hey, just so you know, if anything happened to it, I’ll happily make you another! I barely even had to stay up to make that one,” he patted Leo’s shoulder. Aw. That's sweet. 

“That's impressive,” Leo replied.

“Mhm, is that all?” Donnie asked next, and Leo exhaled, subtly. 

Asking “Is that all?” meant it was all. Great. Another test that he breezed through. 

“Yes, thank you,” Leo answered, smiling, and so they went to get a mirror and a frame. A regular mirror and a super cute orange frame.

—

Mikey was incredibly happy to have his drawing framed and placed on Leo’s shelves. One of the first official decors in the cell! Joining Boss Bearhug. 

The mirror gave Leo insight into his appearance, which... well. He was working on it. 

The new clothes were... casual. Much, much more than what he was used to. And it was only now dawning on him that he really did have just the two sets. Heu boy. He grimaced. Perhaps he really should have picked out more... 

But the Jitsu brothers didn't scold him. Did they? He replayed the conversation in his head again, analyzing it for the tenth time, as he does with all of them. 

(“If this is all you want and-or need for now, that's totally okay. We can always get more later if you change your mind. But! If– if there's something else you also want, don't, uh...”  

“Don't hesitate to get it,”)

Hngh. Dang. Maybe this was on him, then. 

Well. “We can always get more later” they said, so it would be a part of his schedule, right? 

The schedule that Leo still didn't have. 

That's fine. It was fine! They– he was new here. They were all getting acclimated. 

Which gave Leo an idea. 

Lunchtime. Supper? It was like, 4 p.m. Whatever, doesn't matter.

He waited for everything to be served even when the others didn't. He casually sat a little more casually, totally casual as he carefully observed the others’ reactions to it. Zero reaction, they did not even notice—okay, they didn't care how he sat. 

Homemade steak. Leo paid compliments to the chef, Mikey, and waited for– jeez, wow, okay, Raph was just grabbing it and goin’ for it. Aaand so was Donnie. Oookay. 

Leo cut his own with a knife and fork, and thankfully so did Mikey. For a second there, Leo thought he’d have to switch his manners completely to fit. 

Once again, he laid low in the conversation, whilst still attentively listening. 

So when Raph brought up “Hey, Leo, you goin’ on patrol with us later?” it was the perfect opportunity. Time to inquire. 

“Your call, bossman,” Leo said with his usual grin. “That's a regular thing for you guys, right?” he was already slipping into more laid back sentence structure around them. 

“Yeah! The Mad Dogz, protecting NYC!” Raph pumped a fist. 

“Every night?” 

“Of course, and we are very consistent with it,” Donnie said, and Leo recognized that tone. It was the tone he’d used years ago, when he’d try sooo hard to be casual that he'd end up stiff and unnatural all over. 

“Uh-huh,” Raph said flatly, arms crossed. “They slack like, half the time, so sometimes it's just me. If we're not feelin’ well, we also don't do it,” 

Okay, that was perfect. Leo will be attending the patrols with Raph and he'll be actually consistent with it, won't miss a single one. It was the perfect opportunity to prove himself! 

“Well. I’m feeling great,” Leo said, in lieu of saying I’m joining you tonight. 

“Yay!” Mikey exclaimed. 

“Anything else you guys have on your schedules? I’ll gladly stick to one of yours until mine’s figured out,” Leo noted. Again, a perfect idea. He’d just copy one of their schedules, until his own was finished. 

He received shrugs in response. 

“Donnie is in his lab tinkerin’ a lot. I like to draw, sometimes I go out for graffiti,” Mikey said, counting off on his fingers. “Raph does exercises, sometimes we watch movies, that kind of thing. Whatever we feel like, really,” 

...

Okay. So. Leo was expecting something more along the lines of 6 a.m.: wake up and morning routine, 7 a.m.: warm-ups, 8 a.m.: breakfast, 9 a.m.: tutoring, you know? Something with structure. Heck, he didn't even care if it repeated daily, weekly, or monthly! He'd take anything!

Not... that. 

Were they just bad at relaying data like that or... no, no way that was it. No way that was all. No way they just... free-styled all their time. It was preposterous. 

...Right? 

...

It was occurring to Leo that they have never mentioned a schedule. Donatello has mentioned routines, Michelangelo has mentioned plans, Raphael has mentioned chores and responsibilities. The only one who has ever mentioned anything close to a schedule was April—about school. 

To use a recently absorbed expression—pizza supreme in the sky, they were completely off the chain. 

...Oh no, they were looking at him again. Leo wasn't emoting correctly, he'd forgotten to react at all, but how was he supposed to react to this– 

“What... were you expecting?” Donnie raised an eyebrow. 

“We ain't gon’ control your life, Leo,” Raph said, going gentle but no less genuine. “You’re a Mad Dog now! You ain’t Big Mama’s! You can do what you want!” 

Leo could not even begin to process that.

“Have you just been... acting like you would with Big Mama this whole time?” Mikey asked, going for gentle but overshooting and starting to tumble into concern. Or maybe pity. 

Crap. Leo was being way too transparent, or Mikey was better at reading people than he thought.

Leo kept his mouth closed and smiling, if only because gaping and stammering would be awfully inelegant and telling. He's pretty sure the way his expression carefully did not change was telling enough. 

He licked his lips, just to react in some way whilst buying himself just a few more milliseconds to think of how the fuck to respond. 

Because... yyyes? Was he... supposed to act... differently? 

“...I’m still getting acclimated,” he said smoothly. So far so good. “Though I’m open to constructive criticism, would love some pointers,” he said jokingly, even though it was entirely true. 

He just wanted to grab them by the shoulders and ask, no double-speak, no subtlety, tell me how to act! Tell me what you want from me and I will do it, I will! 

It was a deeply familiar feeling. Even as good as he was at it, navigating constant conversational and behavioral puzzles and traps was tiring at best. At worse—infuriating. 

...Terrifying and dangerous, at worst. 

But that's just not how things go. Leo couldn't just ask them, he couldn't just talk to them, that would be insane behavior. He just had to figure it out. Just be careful and think. 

“Alright!” Mikey declared, reaching over to take his hands. “Here's a pointer! How about this: tomorrow, you are totally free. Okay? No expectation, no plan, nothing. The whole day. You can do whatever. You. Want.” he emphasized. 

Leo, again, almost gaped. What??? What was he supposed to do with that time??? It wasn't even like a day off! Those still had things planned, just... lighter things, more enjoyable things. 

Was this another test??? If so, it was crazy. Maybe they wanted to see how he would behave when left to his own devices? It hadn't even been a week, he hasn't even shown how he behaves according to their devices.

...Or... was it... oh. 

His first punishment. 

It felt like a stone sank down his trachea and digestive tract both. 

He messed up. He’d– he’d behaved according to Big Mama’s rules instead of the Jitsus', and now he was really going to be left in his cell. 

Yeah. Yeah, that... that made sense. It had to make sense. Leo just had to take it in stride and fucking behave. He had to show how good he could be. 

Mikey said tomorrow. That meant he still had the rest of today to show how good he is. Act correctly, speak correctly, don't break any rules, don't go out of line, be likeable, be perfectly curated. Go on patrol with Raph and the other two if they show up, and show them how skilled he was.

Leo almost replied with a yes sir, instead landing on an awkward “Yes sssssuunderstood,” 

“And just to be extra clear!” Donnie spoke up. “This is not a trick, nor a ploy, nor some complicated scheme!” 

Yes sir, Leo nodded. “I understand.” 

“And we ain't mad at you!” Raph also butted in. That... okay, yeah, they weren't mad, just– disappointed, probably. Or maybe not even that. Maybe they didn't feel any negative way, just wanted Leo to behave, teach him how to behave. “You haven't done anything wrong!” 

...What? 

What???

Leo was so incredibly confused right now. Of course, he showed none of that.

He's been confused before. He's dealt with confusing individuals and their confusing rules before. That's all he's done his entire life. He just had to figure things out, like every other time. He kept his breathing calm, and smiled.

“I understand,” 

—

“That was a sick twist, Leo!” 

“How did you do that???” 

Patrol went well. Yeah, Leo needed a few minutes of running across rooftops to get into the rhythm, but they faced off against some mutant lady, and Nexus Mode clicked inside his brain.

And Leo loved the Battle Nexus, actually. It's the one place where he could curate the mask he wore, his presentation, his presence, who he is. It's the one place where he got to make the rules.

“Oh, you know,” Leo was grinning, as they traversed the rooftops back to the Lair. “I suppose I’m just that good,” he got to boast, and it made them laugh and roll their eyes and it was great. 

Leo loved the Nexus. He loved getting to show off, and boy did he show off now as well, doing a whole lot of unnecessary maneuvers. Not to hurt! It wasn't about the violence. 

...Okay it was a little about the violence, but that's specifically for the Battle Nexus, not for now. 

A lot more of it was about being capable.About having the opportunity to do, well, His Thing. Go out, charm the crowds, get them hyped and cheering, show them how awesome (how talented) he was. On the arena, Leo was center stage and the director all at once. Leo decided what was right and what was acceptable and what was desired. 

In the Nexus, free to choose who he performed as, Leo felt the most like himself. Like there was an actual person, under the layers upon layers of rules and games and tricks and lies and masks.

And the Mad Dogz had loved it. He kept subtly pressing with “Hey how about that spin-kick huh?” and “I haven't seen you guys try diversions much, so I thought I would–” and whatnot, thrumming with what did you think? Did I do good? Did I do good? 

And with a laugh or with a nod or with encouragements or with jokes, they kept answering you were good, you did well, that was right, that was acceptable. 

“OOH!” Mikey exclaimed, “We should go to Run of the Mill!!! To celebrate!” 

“Oh yeah!” Raph readily agreed, “First job well done with all four Mad Dogz!” 

“Ah, an idea per excellance, my fellow Crazy Canines,” 

And Leo’s heart swelled at the idea. At the eagerness with which they were already calling him “one of the Mad Dogz”—their team, their family. Heck, this patrol was lightweight compared to a low bracket fight in the Nexus, and yet they wanted to celebrate.

Big Mama does not feel love. Leo is the thing that has come the second closest to being loved by Big Mama, and Leo comprehended a long time ago that he has never been truly loved, not really. Big Mama does obsession, does appreciation, does desire, does value, does all those things, but she just doesn't do love.

And she taught him everything he knows about the world and its workings. She taught him everything she knows.

“If you ever surpass my skills enough to escape without getting caught in my wibbly-web, my turtely-boo, Big Mama shall simply let you go,” she’d said to him, affectionate and coy and condescending. And she made true on her promise—she never let him go easily. Leo’s new life was all thanks to what he’d learned from her and from his own experiences. It was all thanks to his careful planning and execution.

Love was cauterized out of him young, because that is how you survive. 

But coming back home with the Splintersons, Leo craved. 

He craved and he ached and he hungered. Because the Jitsu family loves. They love ardently, fervently, they love in a way Leo has never, ever seen before, they love in a way Leo could never even conceptualize much less dream of. 

And every little stray droplet that lands his way feels like lava, warm and acidic and ruinous, corrosive through his layers. And only at the smallest taste was he realizing how he’s starved for it his entire life. 

Leo is not a thing that is loved. 

Not in this fierce, personal way. 

But he wanted to be. He wanted it so bad, he was ready crack himself open and model his innards like clay for it. He would do the coolest tricks and he would navigate all the conversational mazes and he would pass their tests. Big Mama only ever loved him the way she loved her possessions, her achievements, her treasures; his mother never loved him like this, but he was almost grateful to her, because she’d given him the tools to get it himself. 

She’s always taught him, by word but much more by example, to take what he wants and settle for nothing less. 

—

Leo behaved at Run of the Mill as well. He was already starting to get used to the Jitsu rhythm, their incredibly differing and saturated mannerisms. He wasn't yet slotting into it quite as perfectly as he’d like, but he was on the way there. 

He behaved the way h– to the Lair too. He made them laugh, and he always handled it when he stepped on their metaphorical toes. 

Leo was doing good. 

So even though he was still trying to work his way out of being in a cell, he flopped onto his bed, smiling, and honestly? He felt... happy. The Jitsus made him happy. 

The satisfaction of making them pleased with him left him with a tingling feeling in his chest and shoulders, one that usually made him want to move. He allowed himself just a little shimmy—it was his cell, after all, so it was probably fine, right? And all the others had way larger bursts of movement and emotion, so. 

Yeah.

After a few moments of hesitation, Leo also reached over and grabbed, uh... Boss Bearhug. He really really wanted to hug the pillow-like plush. He's secretly always adored plushies, they were just so cute! But he didn't want to be too showy with his love for the gift, so he simply placed it next to his pillow. And laid down on his side to face it.

Leo exhaled, covered by a... pretty nice blanket, actually. And laying on a nice pillow. But it made sense—the Splintersons weren't cruel, they were soft souls. ‘Course they made even cells feel homey and comfortable and nice. 

Leo felt warm. 

He’d had some bumps here and there, sure, but hey, he'd navigated the whole day! Things should only be looking up from here.

He could do this. He could so do this. It was starting to feel like a fun puzzle, now. He could learn them. He could figure them out. And then he would make them love him. And it would be good. 

For once, maybe, maybe he could have something real and good and keep it. 

It was an idea so sweet it made him dizzy, haha. 

It wasn't hard to fall asleep, even through the excitement. 

[ladyculebras]

a catalog of non-definitive acts ↳ supernatural, Sam/Dean, nc-17, ~30,000 words: read on ao3.

content warnings: incest, past underage wincest/weecest (off-screen). 

Summary:

It's the first time Sam and Dean are together since Sam's become an adult, and everything is different.

OR

Sam and Dean fall in love again.

[consultingjedi]

es recs their friends' trigun fics

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Comment: a really interesting view of the parallel between nai's fears and what he did to kids like wolfwood

Gravedigger by dedicatedfollower467 !major character death!

Rated: T

Wordcount: 1k

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Comment: tears! tears. every trigun fan has their own take on this scene and it never fails to make me cry.

Saying No by millionsfics !sexual assault!

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Wordcount: 26.5k

Summary: plantwood modern au, where nai once had a ... thing with conrad that's coming back to haunt him

Comment: truly the plantwood dynamic of all time; each of them understands the others in a unique way, and they're all trying to work through their problems and be better for each other

The Art of Mockery by millionsfics

Rated: E

Wordcount: 4.7k

Summary: T4T4T, vashwood that becomes plantwood

Comment: fun plantwood smut with evolving relationship dynamics and unusual genitalia, what more could you ask for

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Rated: M

Wordcount: 6.6k

Summary: modern au kniveswood meet at a gay cowboy bar

Comment: drunk nai flirting is so so fun and wolfwood is a sweetheart