The system had started as a way to curb crime in the mid 2030s. Prisoners had been given the option to join the contracted worker system (slavery – but no one dared call it that), and years would be taken off of their sentences. Power leads to corruption leads to more power leads to more corruption. Ten years in, coercion was readily used to force criminals into the system. Twenty years in, rights started being stripped. Now, within a 60 year old system that has expanded beyond anyone's control, a U.S. Senator finds himself holding the contract of the favorite worker of one of the most powerful men in the country.
Belleview Masterlist
On the outside, it is a beautiful campus. Elegant in its simplicity, with three brick buildings forming a crescent at the mouth of a long, rose-bush lined drive that intersects wrought iron gates. On the inside, what was once a testing grounds for training tools, drugs, or whatever other uses could be found for workers who were deemed unable to be placed, is now a temporary housing center for those same workers. Tasked with keeping the inhabitants alive and 'comfortable' while the government figures out a real plan, Doctor Lincoln Prescott spends his days learning the true horrors of the system, while carving a safe-haven out of the very institution that previously housed unfathomable misery.
Derek’s Back Masterlist
Eight years ago, a group of college friends spent the summer backpacking in Turkey. Seven years ago, all but one returned. Derek had been left behind, in one of the most brutal prison systems in the modern world. It was 3:17 AM on one arbitrary Tuesday night when Jack got the call. Derek was being released.
Leo's journey through slavery was so quiet and internal, yet stunningly visceral. I feel like his initial experiences of rape at the training facility and then his time with Parker were the most transformative of him in those early months/years - do you think I've got that right? That first time going through rape affected him so deeply - it was so tragic when he asked if he should expect that to happen daily from now on, and the answer "maybe" was brutal. And then Parker was such a mindfuck: insistently being told he could consent when obviously he had no option for consent whatsoever just really unravelled any hold on control over what he allows in his body.
I feel like his initial experiences of rape at the training facility and then his time with Parker were the most transformative of him in those early months/years - do you think I've got that right?
I definitely think the early training days where they relentlessly abused him until he folded are a front runner for Things That Fucked Leo Up Forever.
Kylie was a more straightforward contract so even though she was a mustache twirling villain, he got her I think, same with West. I agree that Parker was the most intense emotional brutality he experienced, Ivan the most physical, so yes, I think I'd agree that Parker and the first training period before Kylie were the most transformative for him.
I'd go so far as to say that Leo probably doesn't think much at all about Kylie or West, and eventually I think Ivan would even be a distant memory (although the specifics surrounding that contract would be carried with him through his life, I do think Leo would eventually be so distant from it that it would not be a thing he deals with regularly), but I think Parker's specific brand of cruelty will fuck with Leo on a regular basis, forever.
All that to say, thank you for sending the ask, and any are welcome to disagree about this, just some thoughts on this fine Monday evening.
Hi hello again! Ive been thinking over your last reply, re-reading some of The Fighter, and thinking up big questions/narrowing them down for you. Here's what I have so far(hopefully no more to come, because this is a hefty list)
-WILL. What happens to him; what does he mean to Leo post-contract; what does Leo mean to will; do they ever see each other again??? Will is in fact a big deal to me in the story
- Is Luke on the Aro/Ace spectrum??? Totally valid if unconfirmed or if hes just not, but that would be. Really cool
- So curious about Parker and his reappearances. Specifically with the fundraiser, and then separately(?) the recapture. (Definitely me fishing for a fic here, ive been itching for y e a r s) did not realize that those are different events! And im realizing now that event is probably definitely not the end to Leo/Luke's misery.
-Because apparently, someone torures and attempts murder on Luke, in front of Leo(thats like his worst fear too 😃)? And I'm assuming this is later in the timeline? OH and hes kidnapped/taken away by the government?? Also curious about this and what happens to Leo while theyre separated?
-Last one, Leo's family :) just curious about how the reunion actually goes, what they think of Luke.
-and towards the middle of re-reading and gathering questions, I came to the conclusion that Will might be/probably is dead :/ cant believe you've done this
- . . . that forbidden question though :T
ok saving a copy of this as a draft [so i can answer the actual ask but keep track of the requests] but didn't want it to live in the askbox for the next 5-9 business years because it is so thoughtful and i appreciate your asks so much (and when i hold asks until i'm ready to produce real answers, that sometimes leads to incredibly long askbox waits *eyes the ones from 2020*)
all that to say THANK YOU for being here i think since like close to the start (???) and for still caring enough reread and send this. on that note, i can confirm tha-
t will is still alive, and will re-emerge in leo's life in some capacity in the future.
i'll try to tackle some of these (they all ar, in the queue of things i want to write, timeline tbd...)
Watched a lot of Jack Wolfe videos today and im craaaaving river now. Do you have anything to share?
i don't! the only semi-complete piece is the one called river - burned which i've shared some snippets of (it's been marinating for the better part of a year), but put another one below!
that said, i have had the wildest june of all time but tomorrow have almost nothing to do sooo
poll time:
plz just finish river - burned and post the mfer its been marinating too long
the one where felix bathes river pre shutdown can never post too many baths
something post shutdown AND post belleview future jump
something with jake
more five sentence fics
Voting ended onJul 3, 2025
here's another part from river - burned:
“Temp’s still climbing,” one of the nurses says, but Katherine remains at River’s head, petting through his hair, encouraging him to hold still. She doesn’t attend to what the others are saying or doing.
Blood pools under River’s nose, and he starts gasping. His heart rate keeps climbing.
“Administer Tramadol,” Jones says, and the nurse moves to the IV.
“Hold still,” Dr. Jones says then, but then River is panicking, and then River is rolling to the side, and then River is choking back a scream.
“Easy t– what’s his name?” Jones says to Katherine.
“River,” she responds automatically.
“Just try to focus on breathing, River,” Jones says, his fingers pressing into the back of River's neck in a bid to prevent him from rolling further.
He doesn’t. Instead, he tries to sit up, and almost instantly, passes out.
Hi, so. I miss Leo. And I have so many questions about him and what happened during the gaps in story posts. Just wanted to let you know im thinking about you both, and Luke too I guess.
I have been thinking about Luke recently and the development of their romantic relationship, which I also have so many questions about.
Anyway, sending love and hope for a new drabble in the near future 🫰🏼
(Also, obviously no pressure at all, the world is fucking crazy and im proud of you for just being here 💅🏼)
thank you for sending this!! i miss him too, and i fear i probably have many of the same questions, until something is written edited and posted for consumption, it's all subject to change in my mind, i'm sure their background has changed 1000 times over :) - any top priority questions/requests if i were to chase down some motivation to put something together?
ps im so happy you're still around on here, this isn't over just a deep deep sleep, but if you have a big question, i suppose even the forbidden one, let me know, maybe i'll encourage me to commit to some plot
you should post the harrison and aiden bath scene!! if you want to!!
This is in the AU. You know, the one I still pretend isn't a real thing...lolz
tw: casual discussion of suicide/suicidal ideation
Masterlist
“I don’t know about this…” Aiden mutters, fingers curling in the fabric of his pajama pants.
Harrison ignores him, leaning against the sink at his side. To say neither one of them is looking forward to this task would be the understatement of the century.
They keep their gazes fixed on the tap, water rushing as if its priority isn’t to fill the tub but the silence, leaden and cumbersome between them. All this time together and there’s more left unsaid now than ever. Built up invisibly, like minerals accumulating around the edges of a tap, inside the pipes until it starts to visibly kick and choke the smooth flow out of shape. They’re shouldering this new avoidance equally, bending under the weight rather than shucking it off. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Pretending they can carry on with a third body to drag along with them when one of them is already paralyzed, the other burdened with the blame.
All the fixtures in Harrison’s bathroom are bright, polished chrome. Shining in contrast with the soft, sherbert orange on the walls. Even the countertop is a slab of pearly, rose stone, the sink scooped right out of it. The tub itself is a floor-to-ceiling insert of wall-to-wall acrylic cream. It must have been like this when he bought the house. He can't imagine Harrison caring enough to renovate a whole bathroom.
Harrison pushes off the counter and grabs a bottle out of the metal rack hanging from the showerhead. He unceremoniously squeezes a generous amount into the rising water. It foams more than bubbles, filling the small room with the scent of soap edged with something sharp. A fresh, synthetic-clean smell that’s not really one thing but distinguished as men’s.
It being his soap, it smells exactly like Harrison. Well, minus the coffee and the odd cigarette he still sneaks sometimes. Aiden wrinkles his nose.
The silence is deafening when Harrison twists the tap off. He sticks his fingers in and nods in approval, wiping them off on his jeans. Visibly pulling on every ounce of clinical detachment, he finally turns to Aiden.
“Let’s get this over with.”
“Are you sure…” Aiden’s not sure how he planned on ending that question. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Are you sure I need a bath? He was the one who insisted, had refused Harrison’s offer of helping him through a sponge bath, and immediately exiled himself to his room to have a quick but fitful panic attack at everything that brought up. Are you sure this is going to...
Aiden shakes his head to drop the half-formed thought and Harrison doesn’t encourage him to pick it back up. He takes his shirt off, tossing it behind Harrison into the hallway. He smells, he has to take a bath. Harrison squeezes between the wheelchair and the end of the counter to stand behind him.
“Ready?”
He’s still not used to it, Harrison’s efforts to give him autonomy, can’t quite unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Mhm.”
Harrison lifts him under the arms just enough so that he can hook his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pajamas, slipping them off his hips and pushing them as low on his thighs as he can reach. “Okay.”
Harrison sets him down again. Two fingers brush the front of his shoulder, making sure he’s balanced and able to hold himself upright. A not-so-old reflex. Harrison drops his hand in the span of the same heartbeat, clearing his throat. They pretend it didn’t happen, though for whose benefit, he doesn’t know but it leaves a strange feeling in his chest.
He pushes and pulls the fabric past his knees, gripping the armrest of the wheelchair tightly in one hand to lean forward and shove his bottoms the rest of the way to his ankles. It takes both hands to push himself upright again. His core is nowhere near as strong as it needs to be, aching every day from how much he has to rely on it now. He scoops his hands under his knee, lifting his foot out of his pant leg. Repeats on the other side.
Harrison uses his foot to sweep his pants into the hallway. “You’re getting better at that,” he says softly.
His cheeks heat. “Shut up.”
Harrison holds his hands up in a show of peace, rolling his eyes.
“Alright, I have to pick you up from your left side.”
Aiden looks pointedly at the six inches of space between the chair and the cabinets under the counter, then back up at Harrison.
Harrison flicks away his concern. “It’ll be fine.”
“It’s your back,” he says, shaking his head.
“You’re not that heavy.”
“Then why not just leave the chair in the hallway?”
Harrison taps his foot on the tile-print linoleum. “You’re not that light either. Ready?”
“Okay.”
He loops his arm around Harrison’s neck as he picks him up. They’re both focused on the maneuvering Harrison has to do, shuffling a few steps sideways before he can skirt around the wheelchair to the edge of the tub.
Aiden grips a fistful of the front of Harrison’s shirt when he has him over the water. “Wait—”
“What?” Harrison shifts his weight uncomfortably. “What? Spit it out.”
“The water?”
“I checked the water, you saw me.”
He presses his lips together.
“Fine, check it.”
Aiden slowly releases his shirt to let his hand dangle so Harrison can lower him until his fingertips meet the water.
Harrison even holds him there so he can feel the temperature after the initial bite of heat. “Satisfied that I’m not trying to boil you alive?” he grits.
He shrugs one shoulder. “It could have been freezing.”
Harrison starts lowering him in. “I’m not interested in giving you more reasons to complain.”
He hisses when the water hits him between the legs.
“What is it?” Harrison tightens his grip, pulling him closer to his chest to lift him infinitesimally out of the water.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly. “It’s just…” He looks down.
Harrison’s brows lift. “You can feel that much?”
“What?”
“Relax,” Harrison breathes, like he felt Aiden’s heart start racing behind his ribs. “It’s a good thing.”
He lowers him the rest of the way in, teetering just a little when he has to shift onto one knee and then the other.
Aiden pulls his arm from Harrison’s neck to grip the side of the tub. Harrison lets go of his legs. His feet sink to the bottom, he feels the gentle reverberation through his torso. He watches through the breaks in the bubbles as his feet continue to slide to the other end of the tub in underwater slow motion.
The rest of him starts to follow.
“No, wait.” He scrambles to wrap his arm around Harrison’s neck again, gripping the top of his arm with his other hand. “Don’t—”
“Jesus," Harrison is tense under his sudden grip. He keeps his voice carefully level ."What now?”
“Wait, I’m slipping. I can’t—”
Harrison tries to shake him off.
“No, no. Harrison—”
“Just lock your knees—”
“What do you mean?” He sounds shrill in his fear. “You know I can’t—”
Harrison tugs at the wrist of the hand clinging to the front of his shirt. “You have to do it with your hands.”
“You filled the tub too much!”
“For the love of God,” Harrison grits, eyes closed like it’s taking everything in him not to lose his temper.
“Harrison, I can’t hold myself up.”
“The tub isn’t taller than you,” Harrison parses slowly, like Aiden’s being irrational and needs the plain logic of the situation spelled out for him. “You just have to brace your feet against the end.” Harrison shifts on his knees.
Aiden twists his fists tighter in Harrison's t-shirt. “Don’t you dare—”
"Relax. I'm not trying to drown you." Harrison tries to tug out of his grip again.
"Harrison—”
"What?" he snaps. "This isn't a dramatic enough end for you?"
He feels it like a punch to the gut. "Fuck you."
Harrison sighs long sufferingly. "Let go of me and I'll help you," he enunciates as if dealing with a petulant child, lips above his ear.
"No. I don't trust you." It comes out like a whip, silence ringing in its wake. Aiden's cheeks feel hot, but that could just be the heat of the water.
"I'm not taking you out again," Harrison says flatly.
Aiden can't see his face without loosening the arm around his neck. He doesn't think he wants to. "You didn't think this through at all."
Harrison lets the silence gather weight this time. Aiden braces himself for the end of Harrison's patience. He knows the feeling of the end of this rope by heart. The twist of the braid, the knots and bumps in the fibers that have torn the skin from his grip time and time again.
But no pain comes.
In its absence, he feels a hot thread of guilt sew itself to his breath.
"Fuck off," Harrison finally says, voice brittle. "I'm trying."
The guilt flares into full on remorse, regret that almost has him apologizing. Fuck. That. He smothers the fire with gasoline, until he’s choking on fumes of hatred and rage instead.
“Get away from me,” he growls.
“What?” Harrison scoffs, indignant. “You just fucking said—”
“Did I stutter?” He grabs the edge of the tub with his free hand.
Harrison catches his wrist before he can pull his arm from behind his neck. “Are your legs steady?”
He glares at him. “Let. Go.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Harrison mutters but does what he’s told.
Without Harrison to hold onto, he immediately slides further into the tub, his useless legs bending at the knee. He’s left clinging to the side of the tub with both arms, the square lip biting into his armpits.
Harrison raises his eyebrows.
“Fuck off,” he snaps.
Harrison rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he stands and dries off with the towel hanging beside the sink. He picks up a loofah from the counter and rips the tag off savagely, whipping it into the water where it lands with an airy splash. Grabs the same bottle from earlier and smacks it on the edge of the tub right next to Aiden’s elbow.
He glares up at him.
Harrison meets his gaze evenly.
“Fuck off,” he repeats.
Right on cue, Harrison rolls his eyes again before moving to slide into a seat against the foot of the tub. He stretches his legs out in front of him and even looks at his nails in theatrical boredom.
Aiden grits his teeth. He refuses to ask for help, to surrender. He lowers his left arm down the front of the tub to make a wider angle of leverage, his fingers practically brushing the floor. He carefully releases his right arm. It takes every ounce of strength to keep himself steady in his twisted seat, way too far from the back of the tub to lean against it. He manages to capture the floating loofah in his free hand and slap it onto the edge of the tub. Water runs onto the floor.
Harrison looks at the spray on the sleeve of his t-shirt with practiced indifference.
Aiden claps his right arm over the side of the tub to give his left arm a rest. After a few seconds, he switches back and picks up the bottle of soap, squeezing a generous amount onto the loofah. He scrubs under his left arm first. Tries to contort his right arm to scrub the right side but he’s not quite limber enough.
He sets the loofah back on the edge of the tub and switches arms.
It’s a mistake, he already has to twist so much further on this side to leverage his weight and now his right hand and forearm are all covered in soap.
His grip starts to slip—
He tries—
He’s underwater.
A belated attempt to hold his breath. The burn of inhaled water making it hard not to release it all at once.
He grapples with the side of the tub but he still can’t lift himself an inch off the chair, let alone drag himself upright. Why is this tub so deep? Why is he so fucking weak? Oh, yeah because he spent the last year strapped to a steel table. Maybe if there were bars or rungs on the outside of the tub, if he could climb hand over fist, he could do it. All he finds is smooth acrylic, the unhelpful lip of the tub too wide to close his fist around, too narrow for anything else.
He can picture Harrison just sitting there, watching him struggle. He might not actively drown him but he never said he wouldn’t let him drown. Asshole.
How fucking perfect. He survives WRU, survives Harrison’s experiments—not even pitied with the mercy of a clean death—only to drown in a tub because he was too stubborn to let Harrison help him. This isn’t supposed to be his fate, isn’t supposed to be his end.
From very early on, as a little boy, he understood his lack of control. Came to terms with the fact that childhood was something for other kids, his life was steeped in something different than bubble solution and capri suns. And that was before his parents signed away his life because they found a boy in his bed. Before he understood that watching the neighborhood kids play through the window was a G-rated version of the otherness that would be whitewashed into his brain. There was no point in crying over it. Spilled milk, a broken glass. Take the backhand and clean it up.
Still. Drowning in a bathtub of his own filth?
This was a whole new level of pathetic, hard to swallow.
He stops struggling, forces himself to pull his balled fists back under the water. His lungs ache. He opens his mouth, warm soapy water flooding in behind his teeth, and screams out the last of his air.
And immediately regrets it because Harrison still isn’t intervening.
Fuck him.
A tiny part of Aiden starts to worry that all bets are off and Harrison will suddenly start breaking promises.
His lungs burn.
No, that motherfucker is probably going to wait until he’s unconscious just to subject him to resuscitation. Not his mouth, never his mouth. That motherfucker probably already has an intubation kit locked and loaded.
Harrison will employ anything and everything to drive home his point. Nowadays, most especially if it can be done with consequences, an illustration of the remaining imbalance in power between them in Harrison’s favor. Anything if it means he doesn’t have to spell it out in a long-winded, exasperated monologue neither one of them has the patience to weather without turning to violence.
And isn’t that what he promised? Underneath all of this pomp and circumstance, toptoeing around eachother’s landmines. That—
Aiden sputters and chokes when Harrison deigns to drag him back into the air.
Harrison lets him hang by the top of his forearm from his hand instead of helping him sit.
He wheezes through his first full breaths, rubbing water out of his eyes. The wheelchair is in the hallway. A stack of folded towels sits on the floor beside Harrison’s feet.
“I thought I wasn’t light,” he rasps when he's caught his breath but Harrison still hasn’t moved. He feels like an orangutan hanging from a tree, except for his limp lower half.
“You certainly gave up quick in there,” Harrison drawls, tilting his head to one side to look at him.
“You’re the one who decided I shouldn’t want to die,” he reminds him.
“Because you’re just being weak and short-sighted,” is the easy answer.
“Fuck you.”
Harrison readjusts his grip and he glares up at him in warning.
“Yeah,” Harrison sighs.
He ignores the feeling of guilt rekindling itself in his stomach. He’s not the one who should feel bad here, he’s the one with no future. Fuck. He grapples for the searing bitterness again, pulling it over the guilt.
“Oh, woe is you. Cut the shit with the long-suffering martyr act.”
Harrison ignores the bait but the muscles in his jaw work as he grinds his molars.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
He wishes he could kick and twist and thrash. He’s bone tired. “You said if I wanted it, you’d let me go. Was that just a lie?”
Harrison commits himself to stony, teeth-clenched silence.
“Or it only applies to the pre-approved methods of killing myself? Huh?”
Harrison threads an arm behind his shoulders, stooping to lower him back to a seat. He grabs a towel as soon as he can reach it, shakes it out so hard it snaps in the air and Aiden flinches. “Here, take this and put it under you so you don’t slip.”
Aiden stares at the tile, curling his hands into fists.
Harrison shoves the towel at him, stopping less than an inch from his face. He turns his head away. Like a slow-motion punch. Aiden imagines him continuing, slamming his head against the tile, holding it there. Smothering him with the towel. His heart stutters in tortured anticipation.
“I’m trying to help you,” Harrison growls.
“I. Never. Asked. You. To.”
“For the love of Christ.”
He whips around to face him again. “Yeah? A little more than you signed up for? Welcome to the fucking club. Oh, wait—”
“Stop it.”
“Why?” he spits, refusing to blink.
Harrison huffs and submerges the towel himself. His shirt is soaking wet already. Aiden does nothing to help as Harrison struggles to lift him while trying to smooth the towel flat underneath him.
“You know they sell stickers for this?”
Harrison ignores him.
“You really should have planned this better. Been more prepared.”
Harrison can’t quite manage and finally gives up.
Aiden scrambles for the edge of the tub when Harrison drops him the last inch and pulls his arm away. He refuses to grab Harrison again. The towel doesn't reappear so it must be somewhere beneath him, even if he can't feel it.
“Sure you don’t want to just push me?” he snipes venemously.
Harrison sticks his arm back in the tub and Aiden’s heart stutters, a manic fear gripping his chest even as he tries to convince himself that it’s swirled with relief.
But all Harrison does is push Aiden’s knees to make his legs lock and he stops sliding. Harrison keeps his hand there, holding him in place and shifts to sit with his back against the tub again. He pulls one leg up to his chest. His jeans are soaked from the thigh to his knees, where he props his free arm.
Aiden doesn’t move, doesn’t even want to breathe too loud.
Minutes or a lifetime later, Harrison sighs.
“I do want to push you under. I want to hold you under until you’re choking, until you couldn’t even speak to beg, until you’re trying to climb me for air. Until you black out and I don’t have to deal with you for a few hours. So I can stop having to try so fucking hard.
“I want to push you under until you drag me with you and we can either let go or die. And God, I want to stop living. Every time you ask me, I get closer to saying yes because whatever you take, I’ll be right behind you and I don’t know how much longer I can keep using you as a shield.” He scrubs his free hand over his face. He didn’t shave today, again. His hair’s a mess, like he spent the whole time Aiden was underwater tugging and pulling at it.
The deep inhale Harrison takes feels like it shakes the edges of the whole room. “So, go ahead. Ask me again if you still want me to let you slip under the surface.”
He’s glad Harrison has his back turned because he can’t hide his shaking hands under the water, they make the surface ripple.
“Sociopath.” His voice cracks, he clears his throat. “Of course you’d find a way to make this about you.”
Harrison coughs a laugh that makes Aiden tense all over again. He’d give anything to see the accompanying expression. He’s afraid to see it, if it’s what he thinks it is. Harrison drags his hand over his face again, takes another breath that feels like it pulls at the film stretched over reality.
“The water’s getting cold.” He picks up the bottle of soap that got knocked onto the floor and puts it where Aiden can reach. “I’ll buy you your own for next time if you just tell me what you want,” he says softly, like he was the one screaming and choking underwater and has no voice left.
Aiden grabs the loofah where it bobs next to him. “Bold of you to assume you’ll get me in the tub a second time.”
Harrison’s eyes flick over but not long enough to linger to see his expression. More overture than assessment. “I never said the next time would be in the tub.”
Now it’s Aiden's turn to laugh. “And track mud in from the yard?”
“Damn.”
“Build a bigger patio.”
Harrison reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a plastic pitcher, places it on the edge of the tub. For rinsing his hair. He feels a rush of relief when he thinks of the alternatives.
“You build a bigger patio. You’re the one just sitting around all day while I’m at work.”
Aiden snorts. “If I’m building anything, it’s a ramp so I can even get outside.”
“I ordered them, I swear,” Harrison twists to look at him, disproportionately defensive.
He schools his expression away from surprise, bordering dangerously close to concern. “You know what they say about protesting too much.”
11. Are they angry about what happened? What are some feelings they have about what happened?
Felix is past anger, denial, grief, etc over what his life could've/should've been like and in the current timeline is trying to survive on an instinctual level - I think even if/when he gets over the hump of the worst of it, anger doesn't really register. I think he has gotten to a place where he believes that he deserves every painful thing that happens to him, just because he's been conditioned to believe it, through relentless physical/mental torture. He's not angry right now, and I don't think he'll ever really been angry about it, regardless of how much he's told he has the right to be, his headspace just doesn't lend itself toward anger about this.
15. What do they remember about the trauma?
He remembers everything up until his body starts really failing him, which I think is a little bit after the thing with River. I think he starts essentially disassociating, starts declining quickly, stops speaking, stops thinking clearly/wholly, and at some point between then and now (Lincoln era), he begins losing time/memories become far more spotty, to the point where right now he's probably so far gone that he wouldn't remember any of this early Lincoln stuff (or, most of it)
16. What can't they remember?
I don't think he'd remember a lot of the final few weeks at Belleview (before Lincoln). At that point the team there was famously kind of just letting him 'expire',' I'm sure there was some nefarious shit that was done to him but mostly they just left him alone at the point where he was in complete physical decline. He wouldn't remember the first week or two with Lincoln, I'm sure, although maybe he'd have some vague memories of things like being treated in the hospital/ambulance, of Ethan playing music in his room, of River sitting by his bed/holding his hand/etc.
sam winchester + strapped down/tied up | supernatural
4x21 "When The Levee Breaks" / 5x11 "Sam, Interrupted" / 3x10 "Dream A Little Dream Of Me" / 7x08 "Season Seven, Time For A Wedding!" / 3x15 "Time Is On My Side" / 7x17 "The Born-Again Identity" / 4x19 "Jump The Shark" / 13x11 "Breakdown"
Do you think you will ever write for Leo again? Even something small?
i feel so confident in saying that i do think, eventually, i will write for leo/luke again - i dont know when or how big the piece(s) will be or whatever, but i say with complete confidence that i know i'll feel the call again and just pop in here with some art on a fuckin tuesday at two am or something
right now im really big on watching musicals and bed rotting, but i go through phases :)
rereading the fighter and its amazing as always. can you explain why leo has such a hard time eating when he enters luke’s contract? does he not want to eat? or is it trauma related?
thaaankkk you <3<3
tw: food stuff
leo wasn't eating in the beginning of the luke arc because of trauma related to the ivan arc (i dont even fully know much we've gotten into the ivan arc about food, but it got ugly)
leo had/has/will always have eating issues/food aversions - he'll have moments forever where the thought of eating turns his stomach, where he genuinely doesn't know if he can handle taking a bite of even things he usually likes, but the further away he gets from all the events leading up to the luke arc, the less frequent those episodes/issues become (while, i imagine, always lurking in the background, and cropping up without a lot of warning from time to time).
