hey, i'm leo! i'm 16 (technically) and would be the coolest transmasc alive if i... y'know... was alive
... anyway! donnie somehow made me this weird device that lets me use tumblr, so i could interact with all of my many, many fans. ask away!
//
ooc info:
mod: russ, 27, he/they
main blog / fic blog / read cmh
this is an ask/rp blog for leo from call me here (i will appear)! tl;dr leo dies in the prison dimension and comes back as a ghost
canon info:
leo is a ghost (invisible, intangible, the works) and cannot be seen/heard EXCEPT with donnie's goggles (due to the crystal in them that allows him to see mystic energy)
he cannot be touched at all, but if he focuses enough he can briefly interact with the world (i.e. flipping a light switch on and off, bonking someone on the head)
the case of this blog would be an additional exception because i really wanted him to be able to interact with people. how does it work? don't worry about it
this blog:
is fic divergent (i.e. leo in the fic does Not have a tumblr blog)
is canon to tmnt au poll shenanigans (don't worry about the timeline it's fine)
boundaries:
NO T/CEST GOOD GOD.
no nsfw leo is Literally 16
i'm sure i'll add to this as we go so keep an eye out o7
tag system under read more
all text posts
leo's posts
ooc posts
answered asks
my art
poll shenanigans
subject to update!
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“cooking is an art form”/“you’re so easily distracted” in the call me home universe (post their get together?)🫶
“Can I help you?” Annabeth says through the wide grin on her face.
Percy, who’s taken to wrapping his arms around her from behind, squeezes her tight enough to crack a rib. It’s still not tight enough, but she’s a bit too preoccupied at the moment to tell him so.
“Just wanted to say good morning,” he mumbles into her shoulder, then presses a tender kiss to her temple.
Her chest warms, and she leans into his touch, but only for a moment.
“Good morning,” she says. “Go away now.”
Percy straightens, his arms still hanging loosely round her waist. She glances over her shoulder to find that he is pouting at her rather pitifully. He is so cute it makes her sick. He can’t know that, though; she needs to keep him on his toes.
“Why are you so mean to me?” he whines, pinching at her side.
She jumps a bit and smacks his hand with her spatula.
It’s her morning to cook breakfast, and she’s gone with a tried and true classic: blue chocolate chip pancakes.
“You’re trying to sabotage me,” she accuses, whirling to face him. She waves her spatula at him. “I won’t have it. Get out of my kitchen.”
Percy’s jaw drops in shock. “First of all, it’s our kitchen.”
“Eh.”
“Secondly, why would I want to sabotage my own breakfast?”
Annabeth narrows her eyes at him. “Because this is a competition, and you know it, Mr. Cooking-is-an-art-form. You think I didn’t catch on after last week’s eggs Benedict, you rude bitch?”
Percy gapes at her for a moment before he bursts into wild laughter, clutching at his stomach. Annabeth absolutely refuses to be charmed by her boyfriend’s entirely uninhibited joy. And she is most definitely not staring at him with every ounce of adoration she has in her.
She has a point to prove.
“Are you actually insane?” Percy laughs.
Annabeth turns back to her pancake and flips it, proud of the golden color she’s achieved despite the blue dye.
“Laugh all you want,” she says. “I know your game, and I intend to win.”
Percy sighs heavily and wraps his arms around her once more. “It’s finally happened, huh?” he mutters. “You’ve lost your last marble?”
She elbows him hard, laughing against her will, and he only holds her closer.
“You’re inhibiting my arm movement,” she lies. “I can’t get full range of motion with you hanging off of me like a little rat boy.”
“Wow that sucks for you, huh?” He squeezes her so tightly she wheezes, then loosens his grip. “Don’t act like you don’t love the attention.”
Annabeth does not dignify that entirely (mostly) false statement with a response, opting instead to move her perfectly fluffy and golden pancake onto the stack beside the stove. She only has enough batter for two more, give or take, and she pauses, pursing her lips in thought.
“Should I just make one giant one with the rest of it?” she suggests, and Percy is already nodding.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely you should.”
Annabeth pauses with the bowl poised over the pan, narrowing her eyes as she leans her head back against his shoulder to eye him suspiciously.
“Are you just saying that because you know the middle won’t cook through and then we’ll have a giant raw pancake and you’ll win best breakfast this week?” she says.
Percy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m getting ready to ruin a perfectly good breakfast that I’ve been craving all week for a fake competition you made up in your head.”
She drops the bowl back onto the counter. “That was extremely condescending.”
“You are so lucky you’re cute.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Percy grins at her beatifically. “It means you’re cute; take the compliment.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“Who’s to say what qualifies a compliment, really?”
“I’m literally going to murder you.”
“Good, I’ve seen enough anyway.”
“Percy!” Annabeth exclaims, twisting around to face him as she cackles wildly. “Shut up.”
Percy grins and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. “What, would you miss me after you got done dumping my body in the Hudson River?”
Annabeth grins and wraps her arms around his neck. “Maybe at first, but I think Grover and I would eventually find comfort in each other’s arms.”
“That’s so fucked up.”
“You know it’s only a matter of time before we run off together, anyway—”
Percy digs his knuckles into her sides, and she tries to wriggle away from him, laughing all the while.
“Percy!”
He does it again, and she tries and fails to shove him away from her. He grins and grabs her hands, kissing her knuckles before he intertwines their fingers and tugs her into his chest.
“I’m gonna haunt your ass so bad,” he informs her, knocking his forehead into his.
She grins widely. “Just my ass? What about the rest of me?”
“Your ass is my top priority in this life and the next.”
She pulls back from him just to send him an indignant look. “Wow, so you’re using me for my body—”
“It’s a great body, can you blame me—”
“Do not try to flatter your way out of this—”
“I love your giant, fat—”
“Percy Jackson!”
“—brain.”
“Smooth.”
Percy grins and pulls her back into his chest. “Kind of like my brain.”
Annabeth lets out a surprised laugh that only lasts about a second before he’s kissing her. She sighs into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and reaching up onto her tip-toes to get as close as she possibly can. He squeezes her tight around the waist, moving forward until her back presses up against the counter, and she almost entirely forgets where she is until he pulls away the slightest bit.
“Do you smell that?” he mumbles against her lips, and she shakes her head.
“No, come back.” She kisses him again, but then she does smell it, and she pulls away from him completely. “Is something burning?”
Percy knits his eyebrows before they both look to the stove, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Oh shit.”
He shuts off the stove quickly, moving the smoking pan to a cold burner. The entire surface is charred, so much smoke pouring off of it that it’s a wonder how the fire alarm hasn’t been set off. They move quickly to the windows, opening them as wide as they can go, waving towels and plates to clear the air as they cough.
Once some of the smoke has been cleared, they stare at each other from across the small kitchen, eyes wide, mouths trembling with the effort of containing their laughter.
“I can’t believe this,” Annabeth says, half-laughing.
Percy grins and shakes his head. “For someone so concerned with sabotage, you were so easily distracted.” Annabeth’s jaw drops; Percy’ smile is far too sweet. “Guess this means I win, huh?”
“You fucking snake—”
Their pancakes are cold by the time they finally sit down to eat them. Annabeth argues that they’re delicious either way, which means she deserves the win. Percy points out the fact that they’re one pan down, and she says that it’s really his fault, which qualifies as a double win in her favor, if it exists.
Percy declares that it doesn’t. But as they sit there together, bickering over nothing, her legs thrown across her best friend’s lap, his free hand draped comfortably over her knees, she thinks that he has never been more wrong.
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