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[writing-with-rain]

GUYS. DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN WRITE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE FICS ON AO3

[writing-with-rain]

"5 + 1 Things"

Bluepulse Week 2023; Day 2

Dec. 11, 2023

"Young Justice"

Summary: Bart loves the people in his life, and nobody would doubt that fact. But hearing the Bart Allen verbally professes that love was a rarity few people ever realized they had gone without in the first place. Jaime, however, was more than willing to say it, but never until he was sure he was ready. Or, 5 times Bart shows that he loves Jaime, and the 1 time Jaime says it instead. 

I am very tired, it is very late, and this is very much not proof read - oops.

1. Bart; sharing food 

Dating Bart, Jaime reasoned, was like having a Wild Card up your sleeve at all times. 

The Speedster could be all kinds of predictable, but for the most part, the symbiotic hero had a firm understanding of what and why Bart was prone to doing something, or how he was going to do it at least. Having him as a partner for years, and a friend for even longer, meant that there were certain things that Jaime had come to expect: Bart would never be happy staying any place for too long, he never liked to share his food, he did not discuss his past, and if he thought it was funny then he was going to call Khaji Da “Buggy” until time itself came to an end. 

Knowing even those few things is probably why his boyfriend’s behavior had seemed so off that day. 

Bart had his days where he was quiet, a little more subdued. A little jumpier. Though he did well enough to hide it from everyone. 

For the most part, Bart would lie through his teeth those days, parading a happy and carefree façade that would fool even the Big Bad Bat himself. 

But Jaime knew better, tucked away in his bedroom with the speedster curled right into his chest, munching away habitually on the food he had nabbed on his way up. 

Bart wasn’t all there that day, and Jaime could tell, so he was careful with his next moves. Slowly he slipped the textbook from his hands and slid it across the bed, using his one free hand to carefully shimmy Bart’s shirt up until he could see the exposed skin of his hip. And then he struck, one cold hand pressed right against the unnatural and inviting warmth of Bart’s own. And the effect was as instantiations as Jaime had expected, with Bart sucking in a sharp breath and kicking forward before he whipped around to face his traitorous boyfriend. 

“Not crash, babe,” he warned, one hand wrapped on Jaime’s wrist and holding it away from his body. 

“I said your name, like, 4 times.” 

Bart blew a raspberry at him before deciding he could trust Jaime enough to return to his prior position, though this time his head rested against his partner’s shoulder so he could look Jaime in the eye. “I was focused.” 

“On?” Jaime prompted, sneaking a quick kiss against the side of his head. 

Bart seemed to stall for a moment before lifting the bag of food closer to Jaime. “If I was going to offer you some of my food.” 

A lie, but Jaime knew the cue well enough – his speedster just wasn’t ready to talk about it. That was fine. But his actions still caught Jaime’s attention, because Bart was still a little stingy with his food, never fully shedding that “scavenger” mentality. But he made no comment on it, instead accepting a piece without fuss and another quick kiss. 

2. Bart; seeking comfort 

Sleepless nights were by no means a scarcity for any person involved with the Outsiders or the League, for anyone who had suffered, endured, and survived as much as any of them had. 

Bart was no exception to this rule. 

And sometimes Jaime caught himself watching his partner, the little down-turn of his lips as he spoke with someone. 

He would never ask, but he had to wonder at times if Bart felt like he was speaking to ghosts. 

If he recognized pieces of people he used to know and never would again when he talked to his friends, or when he watched Don and Dawn play. 

It had to be jarring, if the bad dreams were any indication. And when Jaime had first learned what these dreams entailed, what these memories that haunted his partner were, he had fully expected Bart to get up and take off running. To see if he could escape all those thoughts until the sun was rising and his heart could no longer keep up. 

And then Bart had made it very clear that first night he had woken up in distress – he had spent his whole life running in one direction or another, and all he needed to remind him that those memories weren’t there to grab him away the moment he opened his eyes was an anchor. Was Jaime. 

Bart hadn’t even meant to wake him up, but the moment Jaime had asked what was wrong he had a speedster latched around his midsection like a panic-stricken panda. Arms hooked around his shoulder in a vice grip, too scared to lose Jaime in a puff of smoke if he couldn’t be 100% sure he was really there. 

And Jaime had held him that whole night, speaking to him softly about any and everything even when he felt the hot drop of tears against the skin of his shoulder. He had just grabbed Bart harder and tried to think of another story to stop him from having to think about his past. 

Even if it hadn’t made sense to Jaime at first - because Bart never showed anyone when he was losing it, or when he was facing a rough patch. He always had some smart remark or bad joke to divert everyone's attention or throw them off guard. 

And the hero that donned the blue and black armor could already feel the way his heart tightened at the thought. That Bart, who had faced odds Jaime still struggled with imagining, had picked him of all people to be the one to comfort him. 

So, Jaime wouldn’t mess this up. A promise he made to himself as Khaji Da finally spoke up in his mind to let him know that “The Impulse” had fallen into a much calmer sleep. 

3. Bart; being a distraction 

Bart, though, was not the only one who struggled. 

Jaime was just as guilty as brushing aside much needed breaks, determined to balance every little aspect of his school, social, and hero life. 

Sometimes, however, like now, as Bart stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching his partner and waiting to be noticed, it was very apparent that this balancing act was not Jaime’s strongest point. Instead, as he sat at the table and poured over his textbook, his dinner had long since gone cold where it still sat next to the abandoned dish on the now cold stove top. 

Giving up on the idea that he may finally realize Bart had vibrated in through the front door he stepped up, chest to Jaime’s back before he reached forward and shut his textbook (slipping a piece of paper in to save his partner’s place; he wasn’t heartless). “Looking a bit moded there, babe.” 

Jaime blinked up at him in confusion for a moment, like he couldn’t quite place who was standing in his living room. “When did you get here?” 

“About 5 minutes ago,” he admitted, though it might have been longer he was not about to admit that. 

He tried sliding his book back from Bart, who promptly slammed his hand down and fixed Jaime with an unimpressed look. Jaime argued regardless, “I have a test tomorrow.” 

“You have a test in 5 hours,” Bart corrected, sliding the book back out of his reach and nearer to his discarded bookbag. “And you need sleep if you’re gonna pass it.” 

Jaime only looked over to the microwave, squinting at the dull glow of the clock that ticked dutifully on the timer. He shook his head when he realized that Bart was correct, standing only to have his joints pop and groan in response. “I’m not ready to sleep.” 

A lie, sort of. Jaime was tired, but if he laid down now his body was going to go to war with him over stiff muscles, and not even the scarab was going to be able to save him in the morning. 

It was then that the soft strum of a guitar caught his attention, and he glanced over to Bart who was setting his phone up on the counter. He had that same self-satisfied smile that said he was up to something, but Jaime would cross the world a hundred times over for him, so it was likely nothing he would be unable to handle. 

“C’mon Blue, dance with me.” 

“You can’t dance, amore.” 

“That a no?” 

Jaime only smiled and shook his head, wrapping one hand around Bart’s waist and pulling him forward until they were chest to chest, and he could rest his forehead against his partner’s own. “I never said that.” 

“Remember that when I step on your foot,” Bart chided, leading them both into an easy rhythm. 

Things continued like that until the song ended and another began, one that had Jaime forgetting about his worries for the moment and cuddling up to his boyfriend closer than he had been, humming along. 

His joints still moaned and popped every few moves, but they were mellowing out, and the sweet siren call of sleep was slowly making its way into his mind, ushered on by the soft music and the warmth of his quick-footed partner. A fact he was unable to hide any longer when he was forced to stop just so he could yawn. 

Bart made no comment, only nudged Jaime forward until he was in his bedroom – where he made no fight when the Allen legacy gave him a gentle shove and sent him tumbling against the sheets. 

Bart didn’t need to ask, and Jaime didn’t think twice when that tale-tell gust of wind rustled his hair and he felt far fewer layers than he had been wearing only moments prior. 

“Get some sleep, I'll set an alarm so you can still shower. Just in case Buggy forgets,” he teased, stepping closer to place a kiss against Jaime’s forehead. 

He wanted to say something other than the low groan of acknowledgement. Wanted to crack and eye open and say thank you or pull Bart into bed with him. But sleep had already won, aided by Bart, and Jaime was helpless against it. 

4. Bart; staying 

Missions and life and bad luck can happen at any moment, to anyone. And they always tell you not to feel guilty, or try not to, because everyone knows what sort of risk they open themselves up to in this line of work. 

That isn’t stopping Bart from the gnawing guilt he feels right now sitting next to his boyfriend’s bedside who had taken a nasty beating trying to protect him instead. 

Bart, who had been trying to move as many trafficked meta-teens out of the building as he could, had been a bright yellow and red target for the other men involved, even with his team working to take them down. 

The intel had been slightly off, because with the weaponry and firepower provided at the base of operations there was no way that it was just some branch – they had found a major player in the industry, and none of them were ready to go to jail just yet. Determined to take everyone out guns blazing if they could. 

Instead of raining Hail Mary upon Kid Flash with bullets, Blue Beetle (who had already suffered a nasty injury earlier in the fight) had acted on instinct in a moment and shielded Bart with his body immediately. 

The next minutes had gone by in a blur as they Bart had dragged his partner to Baby, while his team rounded up and handled the rest of the men. 

Seeing one of their own badly injured seemed to be the next kick they needed to get things wrapped up, and soon enough they had Jaime in a med bay bed, where he had not left for the last 2 days as Khaji Da silently and diligently made repairs. 

Where Bart had not left in 2 days. 

Not for a lack of trying on their friend’s parts. But Bart had made it resoundingly clear that he would be there the moment Jaime woke up, and if anyone had an issue with that then he wished them good luck trying to tranq him – he was not going anywhere. 

And he kept to that. Ears tuned and studying the monitors at every little click or beep that something may have changed. 

One hand intertwined with Jaime’s own, even as Bart slept. 

Even as Jaime finally woke, trying to brush sleep away from his eyes only to find his hand held hostage by a sleeping speedster. “Bart?” 

The sound of Jaime’s voice was enough to stir him, and his attention was full in less than a second. He looked like he had many things he wanted to say, before he puffed up his chest and looked Jaime straight in the eye. “Promise me you’re not gonna do that again.” 

Jaime could only stop for a moment before shaking his head no. “I can’t - I can’t promise you that I won’t try to protect you in the future.” 

Bart wanted to argue it, really, he did – but he knew he could not. Because he would have done the exact same thing. He still would if he had the chance, if he could trade places. Instead, he bit his tongue, pushing Jaime aside so he could crawl into bed with him. “I missed you.” 

5. Bart; touch 

Bart could be an enigma at times. 

But this Jaime knew all too well. He could hold Bart around the waist, or hold his hand, his shoulders, etc. And in turn Bart would drape himself over Jaime’s shoulders like an expensive blanket, or he would mess with his hair. Anything that he could do to have some sort of physical contact with Jaime then he would do it. 

But Bart hated being touched for anything medical. He hated people looking over him and prodding, asking questions. He hated the way that hands would linger too long during an exam. 

He hated every moment of it. And after each exam Bart would refuse to touch anyone for the next few days. Even Jaime. 

So Jaime made sure he always knew when Bart was due for another exam, or when he had been injured in battle. Ready to wait the days away until Bart came slinking to him and silently wrapped himself up in whatever hoodie he had stolen from Jaime’s closet. 

But this wasn’t like those times. 

Bart hadn’t been hurt in battle, or training. He wasn’t hopping continents or decades. He had just suffered a mishap at the hands of a ladder and bad luck. 

And this meant Bart was refusing to go to Urgent Care or to get checked out by the Leagues own medical staff. 

He was fine and he would heal – besides, he had warned Jaime, he hated when they touched him. 

But the Reyes just could not leave it alone. He had heard the way Bart had yelled the moment he had hit the ground, and he could see the way he was holding his arm tenderly. Even if nothing was wrong and he was just overconcerned, he wanted Khaji Da to do his own scans. 

But the bug wanted to test his reactions with physical touch, which left Jaime pleading his case before one less than impressed Bart Allen. 

“Baby, mi novio, mi luz, please just let us take a look at it. We’ll be as fast as we can be, you know that.” 

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” 

“No, you really scared me, and it’s going to be on my mind all night.” 

Bart stopped, shifting on his feet before hanging his head in defeat. “Alright, but only because it’s you.” 

Jaime placed a chaste kiss against his lips before signaling him to sit on the shut lid of the toilet. 

The scarab only needed partial control and his own armor, so Jaime was free to use his hands as he pleased, opting to hold Bart’s hand and rub his thumb against the back in soothing circles. His other hand rested limply against Bart’s knee, giving a gentle squeeze right before it lasted. 

Khaji Da, for what it mattered (which was a lot) worked as quickly as he could to assess whatever damage might have taken place. While Jaime himself traced Bart’s skin through his jeans, slowly moving his hand further until he found one of the speedster’s scars through the thing fabric of his shirt. 

Bart tensed at the contact but settled fast enough when Jaime continued to trace the shapes. It seemed to work in giving his partner something other than the exam to focus on, because Jaime could see the way that his eyes followed the movement despite his stiffness. 

When he shivered Jaime moved away, knowing he was far too close to where Bart would be ticklish, and Jaime would never hear that end from Khaji Da if he began. 

“Sorry,” Jaime mouthed, moving his hand down to the scars once more. 

Bart squeezed his hand in return, pulling it closer to his body. 

Thankfully a series of clicks sounded in Jaime’s head and the armor that had manifested itself minutes prior retracted back into the scarab. 

“What’d Buggy say?” 

“That your arm is going to be fine, and to stop calling him that,” Jaime said, pulling Bart gently up with him. “But icing it might still be a good idea.” 

Bart scoffed, “yes, nurse.” 

“I think I made a pretty good nurse.” 

Bart cocked his head and studied Jaime for a moment before nodding slowly. “I actually,” he hummed, turning his head away, “I didn’t mind it as much since it was you. It wasn’t as bad as everyone else poking me.” Bart finally met Jaime’s eyes with a shrug. “It’s comfortable if it’s you.” 

6. Jaime; saying “I love you” 

That. 

That had been enough to stop Jaime. 

Even at the beginning of their relationship, it didn’t matter if Jaime had been the one touching him or checking his wounds. 

It was a fact of life like anything else: the sun still burned; the world still turned; he still had a scarab fused to his back; and Bart Henrey Allen II despised anyone touching him for medical exams, no matter how minor they were. 

“It really didn’t bother you?” 

“Not this time, it was actually pretty crash.” 

His heart beat a little harder for a moment and he stood straighter for a moment, proud of himself, and proud of Bart. 

But the words that left his mouth weren’t planned – not that it made them any less true. They had been sitting heavy on his tongue for days now, and he had figured it was only a matter of time before they finally slipped out. 

“I love you.” 

Bart seemed surprised by that, but Jaime wasn’t done just yet now that he had begun. 

“I love seeing the progress you’ve made, and the way your nose scrunches up when I try to wake you up early. Or the way that you give whatever you set your mind to every piece of you that you can. Or the way you sneak kisses before you leave when you think I’m asleep.” 

Jaime stepped back, just far enough to get a proper look at his partner, right before his squished Bart’s face between his hands, standing there with his hands remaining in place regardless of being done. “Mi novio, Bart, I love you.” 

For once it was Jaime’s turn to watch Bart’s brain start burning to catch up, words tripping over one another as he sorted his own thoughts. “I love you too, Jaime.” 

Jaime grinned, wide enough it hurt, and he knew even his eyes were crinkled at the edges, but he didn’t mind. “i know, you say it all the time.”

[writing-with-rain]

"Firsts"

Bluepulse Week 2023; Day 1

Dec. 10, 2023

"Young Justice"

Summary: Bart is more than excited for the night ahead, practically vibrating through the floor with every passing second – very slow seconds, he unfortunately laments. This evening, at 5 on the dot, Bart is expecting a knock on the door from his favorite hero in Blue. Sure, his feelings had been conflicting when he had first arrived, Jaime was cute, but Bart had a mission, one that centered around blue and black clad hero he stuck so close to, but dangers had since past, and Bart had found it harder to ignore that gnawing thought. And finally, finally, Bart was going to be going on his first date, both in general and with Jaime. 

Time moves quicker than his own internal clock. 

Bart knows this. Every speedster knows this. Even Don and Dawn, in all this small toddler minded glory, are grasping at the concept that time just moves differently for them. After all, super speed was never just that. 

But this was getting ridiculous. It was as if the world had caught a whiff of his excitement for the night and personally pulled on the reins of time to slow it to less than a trickle. He had been staring at this clock for the last two hours (it had been 2 minutes), and still he seemed no closer to the hour hand landing on the 5 as it was supposed to. 

Jay, who had been all too amused with the situation, had left the doorway he had been standing in – so when Bart let out another over exaggerated sigh there was nothing but a laugh from the older man two rooms over. 

“The clock isn’t gonna get to 5 any faster.” 

Bart’s face scrunched at the comment. “It will if I move the hand.” 

“Don’t you dare, besides,” Jay chimed as he entered Bart’s line of sight once more, “it won’t make Jaime get here earlier.” 

Bart didn’t give more than another annoyed huff, rolling over on his bed and facing the wall. 

“You’ll mess your hair up, Bart,” Jay called, walking back to the kitchen. “Again!” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, sitting up and glancing in a mirror to run a hand through his hair once more in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. As unruly as it could be, he did want to look presentable for his first date. Especially when that date was supposed to be with Jaime. 

It was a lulling thought for the moment, a flash flood of memories and emotions in quick succession. 

Too skinny Bart Allen had managed to get to the past, with the sole mission of stopping the Reach apocalypse at any cost. And then he had been face-to-face with The Blue Beetle and hadn’t even realized it at first. His one-track mind had been faster than he was and soon enough Bart had been spending as much time with one Jaime Reyes as he could. But then things had gotten a little complicated – Bart had never let himself become too comfortable with the past, not until he was sure it was fixed, but that hadn’t stopped those little budding feelings from taking root in his brain, deeper and deeper, every time he was around Jaime. 

Small things he did, the way he laughed or the way he rolled his eyes and looked away to hide his smile every time Bart cracked a particularly bad joke were imprinted in his head. And then the speedster caught himself doing it on purpose, just to try and get one more smile or one more laugh out of his friend. 

Surprisingly, the first time he had caught himself calling Jaime his friend, the realization didn’t set him on edge. It had felt completely normal. All of it did, along with those little nudges of protectiveness that he embraced in full force. 

It the Reach was going to take Jaime from him, or even Khaji Da, they were going to have to take Bart out kicking and screaming first. 

And nobody could say that the speedster hadn’t stuck to his guns the moment he decided he was going to pour everything into protecting Jaime – throwing those (now not so reasonable) alternatives to the wind. 

He had. 

He had given every bit of himself to making sure he brought Jaime home. And Jaime had been there for him just as much when Bart was left reeling at the sacrifices it cost. That the Reach had cost them. 

That was how things had stayed for a time. With everyone just figuring out how to heal, and how to navigate a new kind of normal. 

But caught up in his own world and stretched like a starfish across his bed, Bart hadn’t realized that father time had finally gotten around to granting his wish, with the hour hand finally ticking gently over the 5. His mind was still a mile away before he was jolted back to the present by a swift knock on the front door. 

Jay hadn’t even moved from his spot to answer it, knowing Bart would be there faster than a heartbeat. And he was, swinging the door open with a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. 

For what it was worth, Jaime returned the look with upmost adoration, taking a moment to just look at Bart before the speedster was nudging them out the door; he knew full and well Jay was going to try getting photos for Iris, Bart had heard the conversation earlier over the phone. 

Thankfully Jaime let Bart drag him along without a fuss, following in quick step next to the younger of the pair. “You look good.” 

“Don’t I always?” 

Jaime could only roll his eyes and scoff, “let me compliment you, chiquito.” 

Bart shrugged, looking away as the two made their way down the street and headed further into the city. “It just feels a bit different now, you know?” When he glanced back over to Jaime it wasn’t hard to miss the soft smile on his face. 

“I get it,” he cast a lazy glance over at Bart, meeting his eyes for the first time. “I spent two hours picking my clothes before Mils started making fun of me for worrying.” 

That was an easy scene to picture, Milagro sticking her head into Jaime’s room or sitting on the bed and poking fun at him before he chased her out of the room, or his mom can up to collect her. It was endearing either way it would have played out. 

“I would have thought you looked good either way?” 

“Sure, but you dressed up for our date,” Jaime chimed, knocking shoulders with him for the moment. 

“I had Iris to worry about.” Instead of pulling away, Bart slips his hand into Jaime’s to intertwine their fingers. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

“What?” Bart asks, genuinely puzzled. 

Jaime swings their hands absentmindedly as they continue, taking the lead. “Your nose is scrunched up again, you’re overthinking.” 

Bart hums in acknowledgment. “I’ve been thinking about it since you asked me out -” 

“Since you almost jumped me about it,” Jaime corrects with a sly grin. 

“Since you asked me.” He huffs. “But are things going to change between us? Like, a lot - because what we have is pretty crash.” 

Jaime was quiet for a moment, tugging Bart closer until he was tucked comfortably against his side. “I don’t think it’s going to change as much as you’re worried about.” 

“Good, because I like us.” 

Jaime couldn’t help but smile once again, his hand slipping from Bart’s to tighten around his waist as he dragged him forward for their date. “I like us too.” 

[writing-with-rain]

WEBSITES FOR WRITERS {masterpost}

E.A. Deverell - FREE worksheets (characters, world building, narrator, etc.) and paid courses;

Hiveword - Helps to research any topic to write about (has other resources, too);

BetaBooks - Share your draft with your beta reader (can be more than one), and see where they stopped reading, their comments, etc.;

Charlotte Dillon - Research links;

Writing realistic injuries - The title is pretty self-explanatory: while writing about an injury, take a look at this useful website;

One Stop for Writers - You guys... this website has literally everything we need: a) Description thesaurus collection, b) Character builder, c) Story maps, d) Scene maps & timelines, e) World building surveys, f) Worksheets, f) Tutorials, and much more! Although it has a paid plan ($90/year | $50/6 months | $9/month), you can still get a 2-week FREE trial;

One Stop for Writers Roadmap - It has many tips for you, divided into three different topics: a) How to plan a story, b) How to write a story, c) How to revise a story. The best thing about this? It's FREE!

Story Structure Database - The Story Structure Database is an archive of books and movies, recording all their major plot points;

National Centre for Writing - FREE worksheets and writing courses. Has also paid courses;

Penguin Random House - Has some writing contests and great opportunities;

Crime Reads - Get inspired before writing a crime scene;

The Creative Academy for Writers - "Writers helping writers along every step of the path to publication." It's FREE and has ZOOM writing rooms;

Reedsy - "A trusted place to learn how to successfully publish your book" It has many tips, and tools (generators), contests, prompts lists, etc. FREE;

QueryTracker - Find agents for your books (personally, I've never used this before, but I thought I should feature it here);

Pacemaker - Track your goals (example: Write 50K words - then, everytime you write, you track the number of the words, and it will make a graphic for you with your progress). It's FREE but has a paid plan;

Save the Cat! - The blog of the most known storytelling method. You can find posts, sheets, a software (student discount - 70%), and other things;

I hope this is helpful for you!

(Also, check my gumroad store if you want to!)

[writing-with-rain]

TO THOSE MAKING NATIVE OCS

I see this a lot, no one has actual names, or any reference for names, that are legit Native American, varying among the tribes, for their characters.

Babynames.com and shit like that will give you names made up by white people.

However, I’ve got your solution.

Native-Languages  is a good website to turn to for knowledge on a lot of native things, including native names. If you’re unsure about the names you’ve picked, they even have a list of made up names here!

Please don’t trust names like babynames.com for native names, they’re made up and often quite offensive to the cultures themselves.

[writing-with-rain]

I made these as a way to compile all the geographical vocabulary that I thought was useful and interesting for writers. Some descriptors share categories, and some are simplified, but for the most part everything is in its proper place. Not all the words are as useable as others, and some might take tricky wording to pull off, but I hope these prove useful to all you writers out there!

(save the images to zoom in on the pics)

[writing-with-rain]

Lay It All Out

a “Coming Out” one-shot for Leo. Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Nicole Amore Wolf  My Rise turtle blog: @ninjamutantturtleteens

For Toffee, @frostbittenbucky, because what are friends for if not writing the fanfiction you want to see and cannot find more of. 

Notes: This is both a coming out fic as Leo find a way to tell each of his family members, but it also shows them struggling with the aftermath of the Krang invasion too. Some instances of miscommunication but overall Fluff and comforting - I think.

This is the first time I have written for the turtles, so trying to get a grip on them!

Summary:  A lot has happened since the defeat of the Krang – healing of bodies and minds, settling into new routines as everyone picked up the pieces and tried to fit them back into their lives. After strict bedrest, Leo realizes it’s time he tells his family something important. 

Word Count: 7,706

----------------------------- 

“’Nardo, don’t.” Donnie warns, gaze locked onto his invention, but acutely aware of the way his twin hesitates, retracting his hand from the trinket he had been reaching for. Leonardo’s form sways in and out of the soft shell's line of sight and he has half a mind to tell the turtle in blue to go back to bed – it’s late, and Donnie still worries over the lingering wounds on his body and cracks in Leo’s shell, even if he finds voicing the sentiment a challenge. 

Leo knows anyways. He’s been reading his brother like an open book since they were little. 

And it’s 16 years of living with Leo that tell him something is wrong. Donnie stops. ‘Wrong’ isn’t the word he wants to use, and he knows it. But at the same time, it’s a sense of Déjà vu. This scenario has played out before. Rare in their appearance, and they’re older than the last time Donnie remembers his twin asking. 

It’s always something important at a time like this. 

Leo is silent as he stands in the doorway, teetering on the precipice – somewhere between barging in and spilling everything that sits on the tip of his tongue and running away before Donnie can find a good place to pause. Always in the late hours of the night, when their brothers and father were least likely to interrupt their fragile moment of vulnerability. 

For a moment Donatello thinks it might have to do with the Krang, but when he sets his tools aside and looks over to his twin the thought is banished. This isn’t the same bone-deep tiredness Donnie has seen weighing Leo down when he finds him knocking back a mug of black coffee at 4am after a nightmare, or the tension he holds in every step as he moves from room to room just to make sure his brothers are still there. Still breathing. 

All the same it has Donnie’s attention. 

He spins in his chair, facing Leo head on before motioning him inside the lab. Donnie almost misses the way he hesitates before the emotional wall comes back up and the red-eared slider is stepping inside, letting the lab door close behind him. 

It is silent once more as Leo sits near him, self-stationed on the chilled floor, looking anywhere except for his twin. Donnie doesn’t push it either. He struggles enough with being emotionally vulnerable, and he knows if he pushes Leo then all he’ll get is a backtracked excuse and apology before the blue turtle is out the door. And judging by the emotions flickering across his face, Donnie knows Leo is trying to find the words he wants to say. 

“Donnie, would you – I don’t know.” Leo falters, eyes glued to the floor and fingers a white-knuckled vice grip on his leg. For a moment he reaches up to tug at the tail ends of his mask, only to absently seem to remember he isn’t wearing it and lowering his hand once more. 

“Leonardo.” Donnie starts, causing his brother's head to whip up as he meets his eyes. “It’s alright.” 

It’s a comfort that Leo seems to latch onto as his shoulders slump in relief. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “Would you think any differently of me if” he hesitates for only a moment longer as he glances at Donnie in concern, “if I was attracted to guys?” 

Donnie blinks for a moment, surprised by the question. “If you were attracted to guys?” 

Leo nods, eyes locked onto Donnie – it's in the way that he twitches, and his form stiffens that the scientist knows he’s gearing up to run for it. 

“Why would that matter?” 

It’s immediate, the way Donatello can see the relief washing over his brother. He seems to almost fold in on himself, like the adrenaline of his confession was the only thing keeping him upright the entire time. 

“So, you don’t care?” 

It's already been an emotionally charged few minutes, Donnie reasons internally, as he considers what he should say.  “I care that you’re happy” he says, quiet, before a quick addendum slips out, “and safe.” The gaze he levels Leo with doesn’t go unnoticed, but at least his brother has the courtesy to acknowledge the underlying concern. Donnie counts that as a win. 

“Thanks Dee.” It’s soft. Not the boisterous teasing or quick wit of their normal conversations, and Donatello knows that Leo means it in a way he cannot currently communicate. 

“Does anyone else know?” 

It’s a question that has their fearless leader shrinking in on himself once more and that is all the answer Donatello needs, but he waits for confirmation. 

“Not yet, but don’t tell them.” 

Donnie doesn’t respond to that one, at least not verbally. And a part of him he can feel begins to swell with pride that his brother had chosen to come to him first. He’ll sit through a hundred seminars with Dr. Feelings before he admits as much, though. 

Donatello won't say a word to their brothers, or anyone, and Leo already knows as much. 

The purple-clad turtle stands, stretching, before he moves to the other side of his lab and pulls out a spare chair hiding against the corner, rolling it next to his own tucked against the desk before sitting back down. Silently he motions to the empty seat beside him – Leo looks drained after their conversation, and the claws of sleep are starting to sneak up on him, but Donnie knows if he lets his twin leave now, Leo won't return to his bed. And it's tradition, in a way, that they always stay together after one of them needs to talk like this. 

Leo, aware of what his brother is doing, and silently grateful, cracks a joke instead. “Gonna try to put me to sleep with science, Don-Tron?” 

There’s a smile that pulls at the edges of his mouth, but Donnie forces it back down in practiced mock annoyance. “Scoff, someone has to be the responsible twin at least.” 

Leo says nothing, but the soft chuckle under his breath is enough of a giveaway as he climbs into the seat, resting his head and arms on the table as Donnie returns to his work. 

“What are you doing?” 

His voice is drenched with a drowsy quality, and Donnie knows he won't be awake for much longer, but he appreciates the sentiment, deciding to humor his brother this time, beginning to explain the building process. Almost 5 minutes later, Leo is asleep, and Donnie continues his work silently next to him. 

It’s three weeks later that Leo is coming out to the next person in his family. 

April, in all her stubborn glory, had decided after one rough nightmarish memory, that she was dragging Leo out and refusing to take no for an answer. Sweetening the deal with his favorite large pizza from Run of The Mill. 

Not that the blue coded terrapin was going to be complaining about spending some time with one of his favorite people. April had been busy as is, trying her best to keep up with the mounting college work and her journalism, amidst the aftermath of the Krang invasion that still haunted them all. 

Leo would still shudder thinking about the teary-eyed scolding he had received as soon as she had laid eyes on him, realizing he was alive – if a little worse for wear. 

Perched atop a building, hidden in the shadows, the pair scarfed down the last of their pizza, eyeing the people that buzzed below, scurrying from one destination to the next. It was a comfort, that despite the overarching night that had settled in hours ago, the lights and noise of the city persisted – a reminder that they were still here. 

Leo had needed this, he absently realized. A moment out, just to watch the people and cars go by. Some silent time to listen to the buzz of the city. To drive out the idea that it would all be gone when he woke up. 

April, as perceptive as ever, moved from her spot, scooting closer until she was shoulder to shoulder with him. When he remained staring out, lost in space, she reached up, giving a tug to the blue mask tail determined to hit her in the face if the wind would allow. 

It was enough to pull him back to the present, turning to face her with a questioning look. 

He seemed content, and unwilling to spoil the good mood, she realized it had been too long since she had poked any fun at him. A devious smile crossed her face as Leo seemed to ready himself in response. 

They were just close enough to make out some of the people below – features were vague and blurry, but that had never stopped them before. Zeroing in on one, April threw her arm around Leo’s shoulder, pointing down at the two people standing just a few feet away from the bus stop. Bright green hair makes the girl easy to pinpoint. 

“She’s totally cute, right? We should get you a cloaking brooch,” she leaned on Leo, swaying them in place before righting the pair, “let’s see the face-man try to get a number then.” 

She paused when she felt the way he tensed under her hold, eyes flickering in every direction before they stopped on his hands, gently cupped in his lap while one of his feet swung idly. “Leo?” 

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, rolling his shoulders to brush it off, his trademark smirk returning to his face. But something about it looked a little too forced for her liking. 

“Hey if she’s not your type then you need to let me know who is – I've gotta set you up eventually.” She stopped, humming in thought for a moment, “You know, for Splinter’s sake.” Glancing back out at the dissipating sea of people, April took the next few minutes to point out a few different girls, noticing the drop of his shoulders each time. 

After 30 minutes, 10 of which were spent in silence as she racked her brain, she finally let out a resigned huff, turning to face him. “Okay, so it isn’t anybody I pointed out, what is your type then?” 

Leo seemed to hesitate at that, eyes shifting from person to person in what April internally deemed an agonizing 5 minutes of silence. Finally, he stopped, turning to look at her before his confidence seemed to dissipate and he was playing with the hilt of his sword. “The first girl, um, her friend is pretty cute.” 

His words were low, almost enough that April missed what he said. She paused for a moment, confused – but she thought? Wait. 

She looked down, scanning for the original duo, and there she found them, now leaning against the wall of the bus stop. Moving forward she studied them, ignoring the first girl she had pointed out in favor of the person next to her. 

Realization began to dawn on her as she sat straighter, still facing forward to give Leo a thread of privacy before she spoke. “I’m pretty sure that’s a guy, Lee.” 

She was watching him, and for a moment she wasn’t sure he had heard her until he gave a swift, single nod of his head. 

“Wait, that’s your type?” she asked incredulously. 

Leo stopped, feeling his world shatter for a moment as he looked away, trying to force down the tears he could feel beginning to sting his eyes. That single moment felt like an eternity before her next words had his head spinning in her direction. 

“They’re nothing alike! If anything, I would have thought someone like him would be more your style!” 

Leo followed where she was pointing, singling out a guy standing just on the corner. He was cute, that Leo could agree with – but neither were really his type. 

He realized a second later he had spoken out loud when April snorted. “Alright, well what kind of guys does the great Neon Leon go for? Maybe I can set you up with this guy in my Algebra class. Oh, or-” 

But Leo had stopped listening for the moment, just staring at her in surprise as she rattled off a list of guys she knew – and trusted – that might be his type.  Her phone secured in her hands as she flipped through different social media profiles, analyzing each one before finding some flaw with them and moving along. It was enough to have him laughing, and laugh he did, the sound falling from his mouth before he could stop it. 

April paused in her quest, looking over to the laughing turtle next to her until he managed to catch his breath – staying quiet when he plopped his head onto her shoulder, eyes closed. 

“Thanks, Apes.” 

“No problem.” 

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Leo’s stomach growled again – an echoing demand for more pizza and both were laughing once more. 

Standing, and pulling Leo up with her, April pushed him forward. “Come on, let’s head back to Run of the Mill and get some more, my treat, but” she said, popping the ‘T’ as she eyed him, “I want details on your type.” 

Leo held his hands up in defeat, knowing arguing would get him nowhere once she had set a goal. “But only because I haven’t seen Señor Hueso in ages,” he drawled. 

He decides the next person to tell is going to be Michelangelo - because Leo could use the help from Dr. Feelings now that this fear is beginning to claw back up his throat. And because Mikey, his precious baby brother, had always been a bit too good at sniffing out emotional turmoil. The way that he had been eyeing the turtle in blue tells Leo that it won't be long before he finds himself confronted anyways. Best to rip the Band-Aid off, he reasons. 

It is a quiet day, no training, no worries, while Raph and Donnie had volunteered to go on the pizza run that night, while Splinter remained dead asleep in his room. It was the perfect time, Leo knew, setting out to track the box turtle down. 

He stopped by Mikey’s room first, glancing in at the art supplies that covered the floors and his desk. But no sign of his brother, not even a dip in the new hammock they had managed to snag for him. So, Leo straightened up, one hand pressed to his beak as he thought about where Mikey could have wandered off to. 

Resolve to find him before the return of their brothers settled in and Leo began scouring the lair, checking in every room he could find until he came to the projector room. 

There, in a pair of too big glasses and a brown sweater stood Dr. Feelings, a slideshow already pulled up. 

Leo leaned on the doorframe, an amused expression on his face. “An ambush, Mikey.” he chided before stepping past the threshold and taking a seat. 

“I just thought it was time you talked to Dr. Feelings,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders and leveling his older brother with a steady gaze. 

“Well lucky me then, I was actually hoping to talk to Dr. Feelings.” 

Mikey seemed surprised enough at his statement, usually his brothers tried to wiggle out of his seminars on the off times he deemed them necessary. “Well, what can Dr. Feelings help with?” 

Leo noticed the way Mikey seemed to light up, not wanting to waste the chance to help one of his brothers. It made it easier, in a way. This was Mikey, if anyone was going to be understanding, it would be him. But that didn’t stop the icy grip of fear that seemed to keep Leo silent in the moment. 

Mikey had noticed a flash of concern crossing his face and he moved to sit on the arm of the chair, one hand resting gently on Leo’s shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” 

Silence, again, but he managed to flash his little brother a ‘one moment’ signal, trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, his voice took pity on him and words, however soft they were, began to tumble out. “I was wondering if Dr. Feelings had any suggestions on how to tell my little brother something important.” 

Michelangelo stopped for a moment, contemplating his words. “I think it depends on what that something is.” 

Leo nods slowly, eyes closed, opting instead to focus on the soft touch on his shoulder. It would be okay. He knew it. But knowing something wasn’t always enough to stop the fear – that lingering weight of “what if it’s the worst case?” 

“Leonardo?” 

His full name pulls him from his own thoughts, and he looks up at Mikey, just a bit taller than him thanks to his seat. “I’ve been trying, for a few days, to figure out how to tell my little brother that I’m into guys - because I know he’ll be okay with it, but I’m still scared that he’ll be mad. Even if that’s dumb.” 

It isn’t more than a moment later that Mikey is clinging to Leo like his life depends on it, having wiggled his way under his arm and against his side. “It’s okay to be afraid, Leo, and it isn’t dumb.” 

The slider pauses before wrapping his arms around his brother, squeezing back to anchor himself into the moment. 

“But you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with it, I’m not mad. I’m glad you told me.” 

Leo can’t help but let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Relieved to hear those words, even if he had logically known the outcome. But it’s the sharp gasp of surprise and Mikey’s head shooting up that catch him off guard. 

“Wait! Do you have a boyfriend? Are you flirting with someone? Is that why you’re telling me? Do I get to meet them – I want to meet them! Where did you meet them?” 

And there it is – all rapid-fire questions and warmth, enveloped in such earnest curiosity and love that Leo can’t help but smile and bask in it like sunshine, before realizing he should probably set the record straight. So, with a poorly concealed laugh he covers his brother's mouth, making a face when Mikey glares and licks his hand in a failed attempt to make him let go. The elder only rolls his eyes. Younger siblings. Honestly. 

“I’m not seeing anyone,” and Mikey has a look on his face that says he doesn’t believe it, so Leo swears it again before he continues. “I just thought it was time to start telling you guys. But not everyone knows yet, so, ya know.” Leo trails off at the end, giving a weak shrug as he lets Mikey go. 

For all his barely contained excitement, there is a look of understanding on Mikey’s face. “They won't hear anything from me.” 

“Promise, Michael?” 

“My lips are sealed,” he stresses, mimicking the zip-and-lock motion. 

Leo lets himself relax, for the first time since they had decided to order pizza, and sinks into the cushions, one arm still slung around his koala of a brother who refuses to move from his seat. Instead of fighting it, he closes his eyes, ready to take a nap until the others return and the smell of pizza wakes him up. 

With one brother accounted for, and the weight on his chest just a little lighter, sleep comes easier than usual. 

A month passes after the Dr. Feelings session, a month before Leo even considers telling anyone else. 

If he just doesn’t dwell on it, then he can almost forget he still has people he wants to tell. Sure, the easy way out would be having the others bring it up or say it for him, but something about that scenario leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

It has to come from him, it’s just a matter of when he decides. 

The time decides for him instead. It’s two days after his first mission out, with old wounds reaggravated his brothers convince him to sit out until they heal. For the sake of their thread bare sanity over his health, he agrees. But he won't like it. 

Too wired and worried over his brothers, Leo finds himself unable to sit still. And with nobody to stop him, his feet seem to pull him in the direction of the training room. Empty and inviting. He knows enough about his body to know what is going to be too much. But some training will serve his restlessness well. Even if his injuries do suffer a bit, he’ll be ready – otherwise what kind of team medic would he be. 

An hour later of running through drills that won’t tear at the stitches in his leg. Ignoring the burn of muscles that beg for him to stop – still not willing to move from being bed ridden directly after the Krang attack. And all it takes is that one thought. A mental flash of the encroaching Krang and the prison dimension, being shoved around and beaten on. So sure that he would die. His body is flooded with the memory of the pain and his leg gives out under him suddenly. 

It’s almost as if the world is moving in slow motion before he crashes backwards off the mat and straight into one of the training dummies, taking it down with him. He lays there for a second, catching his breath. 

His heart is racing, and it isn’t from the workout, if the bile crawling up his throat is anything to go by. Blood thunders in his ears and the feeling of the stone ground under him isn’t enough to keep him in the moment, eyes squeezed shut, the fear that if he opens then he'll be face to face with an alien and an endless void. 

It’s a voice that shocks him back into the moment. 

“Blue?” 

Splinter stands in the doorway, worried as he steps towards his son who has finally acknowledged him. Carefully he helps him sit up before Leo is wrapping his arms around him. All Splinter can do is hold him, whispering reassurances as sobs wrack his body. Careful in his motions, he slowly pulls his son up, determined to move them to the projector room chair so he can check Leo over. 

When they do finally reach their destination, the terrapin all but collapses into it, rubbing the tears away furiously from his eyes as he regains his bearings. His father sits in front of him, first aid kit in hand and Leo realizes he doesn’t even know when he had the chance to leave and get it. 

“My son, let me see your arm.” 

The turtle glances down, vaguely aware of the sting on his bicep. Realizing the skin had been broken and blood was beginning to dry around the edges. He holds his arm out, letting his father work. 

The time passes in silence, but Splinter can see it in the way Leo holds himself. He’s beginning to calm down, and the best thing he can think to do is crack a joke. 

“You know, if you keep getting yourself all scraped up, I’ll never find a nice girl to marry you off to,” he jests, “or your brothers.” 

Leo seems to still at that, and Splinter takes notice, looking at him with a curious gaze. But his son’s eyes are unfocused, head tilted to the side. So the rat stops, giving one more glance to the bandaged arm before waiting for his son to speak. 

He knows this look; this is the same fearful look Leo had been sporting when he had come to wake Splinter up as a turtle tot, scared to tell him that he had thrown up. He had been running a fever for days, so Splinter did his best as a single father to put his sons worries away and get baby blue back up to health. And whatever was plaguing his son's mind would be gone soon if he got his way. 

“What if-” Leo paused, before wrapping his arms around himself. 

Splinter lets him, allowing him the space he needs to feel safe. 

“What if I don’t want you to marry me off to a girl?” 

“Blue, I am only joking – okay, mostly joking – when I say I want to marry you off. I would never make you boys marry someone you did not love.” Splinters words don’t seem to have the effect he wants, and Leo shifts uncomfortably in front of him. 

“No, I mean, you know, what if I want to marry a guy?” His voice is small, like he’s waiting for the shoe to drop. For Splinter to be angry. Disappointed. Something. 

The realization makes Splinter’s heart sink, that one of his sons would think that something as simple as who he loved would make him mad. He reaches forward, pulling Leo back into his embrace. 

“Oh, my son, who you love will never make me see you any differently.” he reassures, running a soft hand over Leo’s shell. The turtle sinks into his hold, burying his face into the side of his father’s neck. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Just don’t date someone anti-Lou Jitsu,” he cackles. 

It works, earning a laugh and an affronted gasp from Leo. “Never! I could never date someone like that!” 

His theatrics leave them both in hysterics for a few moments, until Splinter finds the chance to speak again. “I had an inkling of such feelings, you know.” 

Leo freezes, noticing the way his father seems to eye him with a knowing smile. “You did?” 

“Of course, I’m still your father – but you never said anything, or brought any boys home, so I never thought I needed to mention it.” 

Somehow those words put Leo at ease, more than he could have expected. 

Splinter can read his change in body language as clear as day. But what is a heartfelt admission from his son if he doesn’t use it to mess with him? Even a little. “Besides, back in my days as famous action star Lou Jitsu I may,” he draws out the ‘a’ as he strokes his beard, “have kissed a few guys as well.” 

He has to bite his tongue at the look of horror that spreads across Leo’s face. An admission of his father’s dating life had not been on the table for this talk, and Leo immediately regrets his decision. So Splinter continues. “Ah, yes, I remember one time -” 

“No! No, no, no!” The turtle is frantically crawling over the back of the recliner, dead set on escaping the rest of this memory lane road trip. “I do not want to hear about your love life, old man!” 

His actions pull a deep belly laugh from Splinter, who throws his head back as his son puts space and the recliner between the two of them, face still scrunched up in mortification. “If you cannot handle a little romance, how am I supposed to marry you off to a nice young man, blue one?” 

Splinter doesn’t miss the way Leonardo’s face softens for a second, body relaxed, before the situation hits him again and he turns tail, fleeing as fast as his injured leg will allow him to in a bid to escape his father’s teasing. 

It’s a week later of avoiding Splinter’s subtle remarks and his brothers nagging over his reopened wound, sitting with Casey in his room as they read through his collection of comics – some of which had been ‘borrowed’ from Donnie – that Leo is first introduced to the idea that someone else might have known the entire time. 

Leo isn’t Master Leonardo. And maybe he never will be. But there are parts of his core personality that even the apocalypse couldn’t erase, and Leo can see the way that Casey struggles with this dichotomy. Leo cannot be the father figure that Casey knew and trying had led to a fight. But he can be an older brother figure to him now. 

And now is when it’s needed. 

He can see the way that Casey’s eyes keep skimming over the same page, one he’s been staring at for the last 15 minutes, completely unaware that Leo has been watching him. He’s getting stuck in his own head, and Leo has an idea over what. 

So, he changes tactics, setting his own comic aside and pushing his foot against Casey’s leg, getting his attention. The future boy looks sheepish for a moment, knowing he’s been caught but Leo shrugs it off. The comics will always be there the next time. 

“Tell me about him.” 

It gives Casey a pause before he’s lighting up, a smile on his face as soon as he realizes what Leo means. It’s a way to keep their memory alive, and Casey cherishes the chances he gets to share their stories. Stories that never have to come to pass. 

But it isn’t a tale of heroism or danger that he feels like relaying. Instead, he looks at the ceiling of the subway car Leo calls a room, chuckling to himself. 

“Do you want to hear a story that Master Michelangelo told me about Master Leonardo, when he was younger – older than you now, but still.” 

Leo’s interest is piqued, and he sits up, hunched forward with his face in his hands, elbows to his knees as he waits for Casey to continue. 

“Master Michelangelo said that when they were younger, Leonardo had this boyfriend – I think he was a Yokai?” 

But Leo doesn’t hear anything else for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. It hadn’t occurred to him that Casey knew. Even coming from the future, with the threat of the Krang invasion, well, when would it have been brought up? 

Of course, it had been Mikey. 

But that isn’t the part that surprises Leo. Instead, before him sits Casey, retelling a story that Leo really means to be paying attention to - because maybe he should avoid dating this guy – and he keeps saying boyfriend without a single thought. 

It isn’t some big secret, or hushed story to tell. Leo is just glad that he asked in private. Because to Casey this is just another fact of life. 

His mom is Cassandra Jones. He grew up in a Krang invasion. He went back to the past and changed the future. His Sensei, whose younger self is sitting right next to him, is a gay mutant turtle. And pizza tastes better than rats. 

They’re not up for debate, they’re just things he knows, and he doesn’t think twice about. 

But Casey has noticed Leo is no longer paying attention, figuring as much when he doesn’t make a snide quip over something Casey finds incredibly funny, but at the expense of his Sensei’s pride. 

“Are you okay?” 

Leo is giving him a funny look and Casey isn’t sure what he’s said to warrant it but it’s sending him spiraling trying to figure out where he went wrong. 

“You know?” 

Leo’s question shines exactly zero light on what he’s talking about, and Casey just stares him in the eye, waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“You know I’m gay.” 

It’s less of a question and more of a statement as the turtle straightens up, waiting. 

“Everyone does. Or did?” It finally dawns on him what the issue might be. “Wait, do they not know here?” 

Leo glances to the curtain that hangs over his door, as if he expects someone to pop out from behind it at any moment. Finally, he looks back to Casey. 

“Most of them, and if you know then that just leaves Raph.” 

“Oh.” he sits, brows furrowed as that information sinks in. “Should I not have said anything?” 

Leo laughs at that. “I’m glad you did – I had no idea how to tell you. I was considering just letting you figure it out when I showed up with a boyfriend.” 

“Just not a raccoon Yokai” Casey blurts. 

Leo is giving him a strange look in return, a silent request for context. 

It takes everything in Casey not to roll his eyes – Leo really hadn’t been listening. He’d need to start the story over again. Before Leo falls into a wishing fountain trying to impress a Yokai only to get his wallet stolen. 

Leo is almost tempted to ask if it bothers Casey, but the way that he’s looking at the turtle right now says if he asks then he’ll never hear the end of it. 

Leo’s gay. Splinter is a rat. And Mikey has a tooth gap. That’s just how things are. 

Leo couldn’t be happier about it either, leaning back and getting comfortable. “So, why do I need to avoid cute raccoon Yokai?” 

At the mention of the story once more, Casey settles opposite Leo, starting back from the beginning and readying himself for Leo’s affronted quips and defenses. 

After the conversation with Casey, Leo knew that left only one person to tell: Raph. And for some reason, the idea of Raphael finding out set him on edge more than anyone. Leo just could not pinpoint why. 

Sure, Raph was bigger than him, and older, and they had had their fair share of fights and sibling squabbles. But he had always been there for Leo. There was no reason now that he should be so worried about telling him. 

After Mikey, Raph was probably the next person Leo would have clocked as the most accepting. He was so sure that he would be. And yet, for some reason, for the last 3 weeks that Leo had been trying to work up the nerve to talk to him about it, his body would betray him. Every. Time. 

The worst part of it all was the pitying looks from his brothers who had realized what he was trying to do. Dr. Feelings had even tried to make an appearance and Leo had never gotten out of the lair so fast in his life. 

Yet time and time again something was there to mess him up – tongue tied mumblings that nobody could understand, nausea that threatened to make him lose a weeks' worth of food or getting so scared he just turned around and walked away – or ran, depending on who you asked. 

Raphael had noticed almost immediately, and as his brother continued to ignore him, he grew increasingly concerned. Until finally it happened. An entire week had gone by, and he hadn’t seen sword or shell of Leo. 

Not at dinner, not at training. His younger brother, their leader, had all but vanished. At least from Raph’s view. 

The others had seen and spoken to him, so he was still in the lair. 

And for the life of him, Raphael could not figure out what he had done. He had tried talking to his brothers, and almost got an answer out of Mikey before April had slapped her hand over his mouth, pulling him away with an apologetic smile and telling Raph that he just needed to hear it from Leo. 

Easier said than done, he had grumbled under his breath before leaving. From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he caught a flash of blue retreating around the bend. 

But it had been 3 days since he had almost gotten an answer to his younger brother’s flakiness. And he was fed up. 

The worst-case scenario was that it had something to do with the Krang and Leo’s guilt. After all, Raph’s eye still hadn’t healed, and they were unsure that it would ever be as strong as it once was. Leo was the one who had told him that, and Raphael had been able to see the way his shoulders bunched, and he refused to meet his gaze. But a leader didn’t let guilt cause him to avoid his team, his brother. So it had to end. 

Armed to the teeth with blankets, an extra pillow, and a handful of his stuffed animals, Raph found himself marching to Leo’s room – the alligator snapping turtle on a mission. And if he had to borrow Mikey’s nunchakus to tie Leo up and make him listen then he would. 

Raph hesitated when he came into view of Leo’s room. There was a soft light lining the curtain, but the snapper had already figured that Leo’s insomnia would be keeping him up for the night. Sleep had been a fleeting luxury before the world had almost ended, but the bags that had remained barely hidden by Leo’s mask said that a good sleep had been even more rare since the nightmares had made a home with him. 

As quietly as he could, he approached the subway car, not bothering to knock and give Leo time to make an escape. Instead, Raph poked his head in, making eye contact with his younger brother who looked surprised to see him. 

Surprised and guilty, at least. 

“Leo.” 

Raph could see the way his brother was chewing at the inside of his cheek, eyes looking for the nearest escape route – a line of thought that needed to be cut off immediately. 

“We need to talk.” 

“Come on, big brother, this late in the night? I need my beauty sleep.” 

His words were lacking, strained even to his ears, and it caused Leo to flinch. So much for selling the performance. 

Raph ignored the bland excuse, stepping forward and dropping his pile of blankets and plushies directly onto Leo, who found himself sputtering as he batted them away from his face. 

It was a standoff – Leo angled just right to take off running, and Raph ready, arms crossed, to grab him the moment he tried. 

But the moment never came, because he was tired. Tired of his brother running away from him and not knowing why, and tired of tracking him down. Instead, he speaks. “What did I do?” Arms uncross, dropping to his sides and expression solemn. 

Leo can feel his heart in his throat the moment he sees the hurt look on his older brother’s face. And for the first time in over a month his body seems to stop, lacking the drive to run away and save himself from any possibility of this conversation going bad. Because this is already his worst-case scenario – hurting his family. 

Raph takes it as his cue, sitting down beside him and pulling Leo into his side, content when his little brother doesn’t hesitate to curl against his spikey shell, blanket thrown haphazardly across his body, hiding the bottom of his face in its edges. 

Leo’s mask is tossed near the door, and Raph can see the dark bags that sit under his eyes, but it isn't the time to mention them. At least not yet. 

“You didn’t do anything, you dum-dum.” Leo’s voice is twisted, like he’s fighting back tears, and maybe he is. But Raph figures the moment he looks down at him this is all going to come apart. 

His grip on Leo tightens just a fraction of a second. Just to make sure he really is there. 

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” 

Leo stops breathing for a moment, shifting to bury his face against Raph’s plastron – like he would do when they were little. When everything was just a bit too much to handle and his best line of defense was hiding as close to his big brother as he could manage. 

It’s been years since he’s done it, save for right after the Krang invasion. But Raph is wrapping his arms around Leo all the same, knowing he needs that pressure to feel secure. 

“Is it my eye?” 

Leo flinches at the question but Raph can still feel the way he shakes his head, a small wave of relief coming over him, followed by more confusion. “What is it?” 

There’s a deep breath, and finally Leo pulls back, not enough to look at Raph, or even move away – his forehead still resting against his brother, but his mouth uncovered so he can actually be heard. 

“There’s something I’ve been trying to tell everyone – and I have! Mostly. You’re the only one I have left to tell now.” 

There’s a part of his heart that hurts when he hears he’s the last one, but Raph says nothing, nudging at his brother’s shell to signal that he’s still listening.  

“I’ve been trying to tell you for a while, but every time I get close, I back out at the last minute.” 

“Why?” The question slips out before Raph has a chance to stop it and he barely stifles a groan in response. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like that. 

Leo shrugs at first, but there’s more to it. Raphael knows that much. So he waits. 

“I guess I was scared.” 

“Weren’t you scared of telling the others?” 

“I mean, yeah, but I guess it was different?” Leo is faltering with his words, trying desperately to find a way to make Raph understand. “It’s just that you’re our big brother, and you were the leader for so long. We always went to you when we were upset or scared. Or if something was on our minds.” 

There’s a pause and Leo is shifting, cheek now flat against his brother’s plastron but when Raph dares a glance down, he finds his eyes are shut tight. 

“And now I’m supposed to be leader, and I know you have a lot of faith in me, so it seemed kind of dumb that this was stressing me out so badly. And I know that it’s gonna be fine, but at the same time, what if it isn’t? You’re my big brother, I don’t want to let you down. Again.” 

The final word is bitter dripping from Leo’s tongue and Raph taps at his shell, a silent reminder of their conversations regarding this before. “So it’s - is it about you not wanting to be the leader?” 

He’s trying. Bless him, he really is. And Leo knows he is. Between cryptic answers and a week of total avoidance, the blue terrapin certainly hasn’t made it easy to figure out. 

“I’m gay, Raph.” 

It’s quiet for a moment and Leo can’t help but attempt to sink deeper into his brother's side, fully intending to disappear. Or try his hardest. 

“That’s it?” 

Leo furrows his brow, head shooting up to actually see Raph’s face. “I’m having a moment of vulnerability here,” he squawks, sitting up to look Raphael in the eye. 

The elder raises one hand, the other still wrapped around Leo’s side, pulling him back into a resting position – Leo will never admit he went down without a fight. 

“Leo, when we were younger, I'm pretty sure I heard you say you wanted to marry Jupiter Jim like, seven times, at least, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. Also, you’re really bad at discreetly checking guys out.” 

Leo says nothing, opting to pout as he turns his face away from the room and the dim lights. It causes Raph to laugh, giving his brother another quick squeeze. 

“I’m sorry – I'm not trying to be a jerk. I just didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret, little brother.” 

Leo sighs, glancing up with a critical look on his face. “So, you don’t mind?” 

“I don’t mind – but I do mind you ignoring me for the last month.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I get it, I think. Just promise me you’ll try to come talk to me next time?” 

“Well, I don’t think I’ll need to come out again.” His sentence is broken off by a yelp when Raph smacks at his side. “But I promise,” Leo hisses up, though he fails to keep the smile from his voice. 

Neither of them move once they’ve finished talking. At least not for a few minutes. But then it’s Leo breaking the silence. 

“You thought I was ignoring you because of the invasion, after all this time?” 

“You started acting weird around the last check-up, when you mentioned my eye – so I thought it was that or when you were looking at me you were just seeing Krang possessed Raph. I don’t know, maybe the nightmares had gotten worse.” 

Leo hums in acknowledgement, letting the words sink in. “No, no, nothing like that.” 

Raph looks down at his brother, studying the tired lines and the drop of his eyes. “But the nightmares haven’t let up.” 

It’s a fact, not a question, but Leo finds himself nodding along anyways. 

Raph purses his lips, shifting to lay down and get comfortable, dragging Leo into a similar position next to him. “You don’t have to do this alone you know.” 

“But I’m the leader I -” 

Raphael cuts him off, “you’re still my little brother.” Shifting his weight – really Leo’s bed isn’t big enough, but he’ll make the sacrifice for tonight – Raph uses one hand to pull the covers up around them. “Tomorrow we’ll all have a sleepover in the projector room, I already asked Casey and April and they’re gonna stay the night.” 

Leo isn’t sure what to say, so he says nothing. Tightening his hold around his brother and burying his face back into his side, not bothering to fight off the tears this time. 

Raph makes no comment about it, staying where he is and keeping a secure grip while Leo’s dam breaks. And he finds, in what can’t be more than 3 minutes later, Leo’s breathing is coming out in shallow even breaths and the crying has stopped. His body too tired to keep up and feeling too secure knowing one of his brothers was there with him, he’s out like a light. 

Raph himself is asleep by the time Splinter pokes his head in an hour later, content that all of his sons are getting rest, and are finally back on speaking terms. Wishing them a goodnight, though he knows they won’t hear it, he retreats to his own room to sleep, leaving none awake within the walls of the lair. 

[writing-with-rain]

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who has trouble remembering developmental milestones. I put these together, but can’t take credit for any of the photography. Hope someone finds them helpful!

[writing-with-rain]

Worldbuilding: Things That Might Have Been Missed

These are the miscellaneous questions I didn’t put anywhere else.  Things that didn’t get enough questions to have its own post, or things I didn’t think of too much until the end.  In this post, I have written a list questions of … . well, everything else?

Have fun, be detailed and creative, and by all means come up with questions that are not asked.

Because my computer ate everything, these questions are not directly taken from the NaNoWriMo website.  Some are asked from memory, some are questions that sounded like ones I had, and others are ones I came up with.

How is a funeral held?

What happens to the body after someone has died? Do they bury it?  Place it in a tomb?  Cremate it?  Drop it to the bottom of the sea?  Send it down the river?  Toss it into a dragon’s lair?

How do people mourn?

What is consider an appropriate amount of time for mourning?

What color is used for mourning and funerals? Black?  White?  Red?  Blue?  No specific color?  What does the color symbolize?

Are there any coming of age rituals?

What happens during a coming of age ritual?

What age is the child normally at when he or she goes the coming of age ritual?

Does it vary by gender?

What kind of jobs exist?

Which jobs are held in high esteem?

Which jobs are despised?

How do people get jobs? Do they become an apprentice?  Do they need work experience?  A college degree?  How are they offered jobs?  Do they apply?  Talk with the owner?  Get recommended?

What jobs are influenced by magic?

What is the most common way someone meets his or her future spouse? By growing with them?  Through connections?  School?  In the market?  At a dance?  Arranged marriage?

How technologically advanced is the world?

What is the latest piece of technology?

How does magic affect technology?

How is new technology viewed? Is it embraced?  Are people apprehensive?  Do they outright spurn new technology?  Do people care?

What does the average bed look like? Straw mattress?  Water bed?  A pile of blankets?  A wooden platform?  A chair?  A couch?

What are some rules regarding sleep? Are mixed genders allowed or is that frowned upon unless they’re married?  Do people have their own beds or share with siblings?  Do the rules vary depending on where they’re sleeping?  Is everyone smooshed in together at an inn?  Can money get better bedding?

What are the basic pieces of furniture found in an average house? Chairs?  Couches? Tables?  Beds?  Bookshelves?  How many are acceptable?  How many pieces of furniture would indicate lavishness?

What are some toys for children?

What do people use as a light source when the sun is not available?

What kinds of dishes are used? Plates?  Bowls?  Cups or glasses?

What kind of eating utensils do people use? Chopsticks?  Forks and spoons?  Their hands?

What materials are dishes and eating utensils made of?

What kind of items are used for cooking? Pots and pans?  Clay pots?  Crock pots?  Skillets?  Wok?  A wooden plate?

[writing-with-rain]

Oh my gosh. I just found this website that walks you though creating a believable society. It breaks each facet down into individual questions and makes it so simple! It seems really helpful for worldbuilding!

[writing-with-rain]

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

[writing-with-rain]

For any writers: http://er.jsc.nasa.gov/seh/SFTerms.html

For more facts, follow Ultrafacts

[writing-with-rain]

Welcome!

Hello, you can call me Nicole or Geo!

Updated Dec. 15, 2022.

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Socials:

Tumblr(s): Main blog - @prophet-rebellion Main writing blog - You are here! Hello! DC x Reader blog - @dickmedowndc "City of the Harpy" story works - @cityoftheharpy

AO3: NicoleAW

Wattpad: MoonsLoneliness

Website: Linked Here! (Needs work/Under construction)

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As you will notice! There are a lot of ways to reach me, but on this blog is likely the easiest.

While this is mostly original works, there are some fanfictions here - and admittedly there are some old works on Wattpad that I am considering updating and moving over here, but currently do not reside on this blog.

I do have a DC x Reader blog, I wanted that seperated. Most of my recent (2022) fanfictions can be found on AO3 as well.

The City of the Harpy blog is for that story, along with other posts and things that remind me of it. But it is overdue for an update to the look and current content.

I know this is getting long, so under the cut you will find a super masterpost that will link you to the individual works (for stand-alone stories) or to the masterpost for my chapter works. Have fun!

Super Masterpost!

Originals:

Misc. drabbles

And the night drew ever closer... (Sep. 14, 2017)

Chapter stories

Collaboration (Jul. 5, 2017 - Jul. 22, 2017)

Ethereal (Jul. 5, 2017 - Oct. 3, 2017)

From the Moon to the Sea (Jul. 29, 2017)

Of Pawns and People (Jul. 17, 2017)

Under My Wing (Jul. 6, 2019)

Poems

My Aphrodite (May 7, 2018)

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Fan-fiction:

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Nyumara: Ex hic itur ad Astra (May 24, 2022) [OC Story]

Pretty Rough Time (Aug. 10, 2017)

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Lay It All Out (Dec. 16, 2022)

DC/Young Justice

Firsts - UPCOMING (Dec. 10, 2023)

5 + 1 Things - UPCOMING (Dec. 11, 2023)

Friends to Lovers - UPCOMING (Dec. 12, 2023)

Love and Protect - UPCOMING (Dec. 13, 2023)

Alternate Universe - UPCOMING (Dec. 14, 2023)

Racing Against Time - UPCOMING (Dec. 15, 2023)

[Free Day] - UPCOMING (Dec. 16, 2023)

[writing-with-rain]

Nyumara: Ex hic itur ad Astra Masterpost

Summary

Noble Savage

[writing-with-rain]

Nyumara: Ex hic itur ad Astra Summary

"From here we go to the Stars." A collection of short stories centering around my Voltron: Legendary Defender OC, Nyumara. Nyumara is a half-Galran child, born to ex-Empire commander Ryoz and Kredi* born DellaSina.

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Note: I doubt any canon characters will appear in this, maybe mentioned in passing and that's all. If I change my mind then I'll update this section. I may even take requests if people find interest in her and are curious about how she'd react in certain scenarios.

*A fanon race I created to be Nyumara's other genetic half.

Cross-posted to my Wattpad: @MoonsLoneliness

[writing-with-rain]

Nyumara: Ex hic itur ad Astra

Note: Cross-posted to my Wattpad account.

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"Noble Savage"

"It's hard, ya know?" Sinya is quiet, almost too quiet to be heard over the thrumming beat of the engine she perches herself above as her gaze remains trained on the seemingly ever-moving body of Nyumara. The half-Galran gives a little hum of acknowledgement, only looking away from her tasks for a moment to encourage her Kredi friend to continue. "It's hard keeping up with you, that's what I mean."

At those words Nyumara stops, her hands hanging idle with the tools in her grasp, her right ear flicks back for only a moment before she turns her full attention to Sinya. "Last time I heard that phrase, you broke up with me," her words hang heavy in the air, but true all the same, and she dares to continue when Sinya can no longer meet her gaze, "what's brought it on this time?"

"I was just... thinking, that's all. About training this morning." Sinya shifts and lets herself drop to the floor, standing a bit shorter than Nyumara, it's intimidating and she finds herself shrinking back for only a moment. Nyumara would never hurt her. "Actually, we were talking about it, Eireali and me. You just blow through training and fights, things like that and leave us in the dust."

Nyumara can feel her tail sway as she sets the tools aside, shifting her weight around and tilting her head. "Am I - I mean, do I apologize for that? Not really sure what you want here." And it's another truth, Nyumara isn't sure where this conversation is going - and she hates that, she hates to not know. But Sinya has changed since they were together, and despite living on the same ship, Nyumara finds it harder and harder to get a read on her friend.

Sinya remains quiet, only for a moment before shaking her head, "no, it's not something you should apologize for. I don't know, I guess sometimes I just forget what you can do. It's weird. Like, we started training at the same time, same way, but you're so much more calculated, and ya know, savage, honestly."

Nyumara feels her breath catch in her throat and she stops, eyeing Sinya - this isn't the first time someone has brought up how she fights, but if it was her choice the last time would have been the first time. She doesn't like it mentioned, Sinya knows this. "So I've heard," her voice is choked past a swallowed breath and her words are ice on her lips, hands gripped tightly on her own arms. Suddenly she wishes she hadn't agreed to let Sinya come to the engine room with her.

There is silence around the both of them for a while, it suffocates Nyumara and she turns away from her friend, busying herself once more with the repairs that need to be handled- the ones she'd trust few others to complete. She hopes that if she just ignores that nagging stare in Sinya's eyes a bit longer then they can drop the topic and Nyumara can purge the comments from her mind again.

It isn't the case and Nyumara finds a tinge of anger biting at her when she sees Sinya from the corner of her eye, readying to speak once more on a topic she knows Nyumara would rather leave alone. "It doesn't scare us."

Again, she manages to bring Nyumara to a halt, a rare occurrence for the ever moving. Sinya is quick to expand on what she said. "I just mean - like, that's what you've always been afraid of, right? That your fighting style is savage and it's gonna scare the rest of us. I mean, yeah, it kind of used to when we first saw you out there, but now it's just, I guess, there. It's normal. When we were talking earlier it wasn't because we were scared, it's because we want to get to where you are one day."

"You don't wanna fight like me," Nyumara was sharp and sure in her tone, keeping her body turned away.

"Yeah, we don't - don't think we could anyways, but we want as many wins as you. We're gonna get on your level one day." Sinya stood for a moment longer and swayed before turning around, resigned to the lack of commentary from the half-Galra before her, and leaving the engine room quietly.

Nyumara found herself moving on autopilot in the now empty space, twisting around the machinery, feeling each tinkering and repair crawling under her own skin. A scowl had pulled itself across her lips and she found her movements a little less sure as her mind swarmed with the words of her friend. Eventually she pulled away and pulled herself up, weaving through pipes and hot metal than she paid little mind to and she found a cooled pipe and perched herself atop it. She pulled a communicator from her pocket and searched for her contacts, there, priority, at the top sat the very one she was searching for. Now she just hoped he would be free to pick up.

A press on the name and a ring once or twice then she could let out a breath, the familiar click alerting her to an answered call and a muffled voice from the other end, "Yu-Yu? What happened?"

She took a breath and settled in to where she sat, feeling joints finally release. "It's Sinya. Mm, it's what she said, actually."

There was shuffling on the other end of the line, grogginess slowly leaving her father’s voice as he spoke again. "What did she say?"

"She just brought it up again. How I fight. It wasn't anything bad, I guess, but I just - I keep thinking about it. And what mom said." She had to stifle a laugh when she heard her father’s growl from the other end. Of course it would set him off, as always.

"Half-filled bag of dust," his words were accompanied by a few other strings of insults as she heard him move around. "Not you, I meant her."

"I know who you mean." It didn't take anyone with a general idea of her family history to know he had been talking about DellaSina, her mother. When she heard the tell-tale sound of a door sliding open, she pulled her focus back to the phone. "What are you even doing?" There was a bit more shuffling and grumbling before her father’s voice rang back through the phone claiming he was on his way to her room to ‘comfort his precious little star.’ She silently groaned at the nickname. "I'm not even in my room, I was working on the engine when she came to talk to me, so I'm just kind of hanging out in here." A hum of approval and Nyumara knew he was on his way, so she clicked off the communicator and settled down, waiting for his arrival.

It was a few minutes later when she heard the hiss of doors sliding away and a towering figure stood tall, hair frizzled and thrown halfheartedly into a hair tie. The thick band had was working overtime to keep his hair from out of his face. “Yu-Yu?”

“I’m over here.” She was hidden among the shadows, eyes reflective in the light, but she knew he could find her regardless. Fitting through the wires may prove a challenge however, she mused, and slipped from hear perch to meet him instead.

“There’s my little star,” he cooed jokingly, opening his arms for a hug. He seemed to preen when his antics worked and he caught the ghost of a smile on her lips before she took up his offer, curling into him and letting out a deep sigh.

“I hate that nickname.”

“No, you don’t.”

A grumble in response, but a smile, nonetheless. “No, I don’t.”

“Now, about what Sinya said,” he prompted gently. “She we go somewhere else to talk about it?”

Nyumara considered it for a moment before shaking her head, her ears flicking down as she thought. “No, nobody really comes in here anyways – it would be better than running into anyone in the halls as is.”

Ryoz nodded in response before peering down at his daughter. She may be taller than any other Kredi, but she was still small compared to him. “So, the savage comment again?”

“Yep, and so wonderfully preceded with the same phrase she told me right before she broke up with me, so, ya know.” Nyumara trailed off half-heartedly.

Ryoz winced, that breakup had hit her roughly when it happened, but that was not why he was here. “Look, Nyumara,” he spoke, pushing her back so she would look at him. Though he found she would rather avert her eyes. “I can’t say you’ll ever stop getting those comments.”

“Because I fight like a savage,” she interrupted, finally meeting his gaze.

Ryoz faltered, she had always had a much more animal fighting style, and it proved effective against many opponents, but after years of comments and harassment from her mother he knew it left a sour taste in her mouth. “Do you know why I picked the last name Nedrea when I left that old scarecrow?” He could see a twitch of her lip at the nickname for her mother and considered it a silent win. “I took the name Nedrea because it means Noble.”

Nyumara stared at him puzzled, failing to find the connection in the story.

“I didn’t take it for me, I knew you would take the same last name as I did when we left. I felt that Nedrea suited you. You’ve always excelled past your peers, not just naturally, but you’ve put in the work to keep it that way too. I know you feel like you have to prove yourself to everyone, but even when you were little you have always had this…” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “You’ve always carried yourself with dignity. Regardless of the comments on your Galran heritage, or your attitude, your personality, or even your fighting style – you have always carried yourself like you knew your worth.” He hesitated before wrapping her in a hug once more. “So maybe you do fight a little savage, it doesn’t make you any less. And it doesn’t change how you carry yourself and what you’re worth.”

Nyumara was silent a moment longer before wiggling in his grip just enough to look at her father. “So, I’m just… a noble savage?”

Ryoz frowned at that. “Not just. You’re Nyumara, the Noble Savage. Wear it with pride. It works for you, it’s a part of you. If they’re scared of it then maybe they should be, they know they can’t measure up. And I, for one, cannot wait to see what you make of yourself.”

Her twin-tails flicked gently, brushing against the floor as she thought. “Nyumara, the Noble Savage?” She hesitated, then a smile found itself on her lips, and she spoke her next words with no disdain. “I like that.”

[writing-with-rain]

A few years ago, I went to an anatomy conference and they had a huge 3D printed vampire skull, and these thoughts have been on my mind ever since I saw the teeth up-close. 

The under-utilized potential for this bothers me a lot… like in movies… it’s just bite and done!

What happened to ritual shaving or elaborate skin engraving?

I know a lot of artists/writers follow me…. can you guys do Vampires a solid?