#psycho-pomp

[redux-iterum]

Hoooookay, so, “defanging Clan culture”. This is something I’ve noticed pervasive in a lot of people’s propositions for “a better Clan culture” (and by extension, other societies like the Tribe and the Sisters). They see the unfairness either consciously or unconsciously built into the societies and go, “That’s bad,” and reactionarily erase it from their own work. The Clans forbid medicine cats from having families for stupid reasons, so these medicine cats can have families. Adoption is treated weirdly by canon, so these Clans have Correct™ ways of viewing adoption. I could go on.

 However, the end result is an unrealistically utopic society. The code is designed to be free from abuse; not a single bad thought enters the head of a character unless The Plot Demands So; toms, mollies, and jacks have nothing stopping them from filling any role; everyone regardless of age, gender, ability status, background, sexual orientation, mental status, etc, is happy because this society welcomes and accepts all.

I’ll take my leave before the flowers start singing.

Now, if you just want to experiment with an idealized Clan culture with zero shades of darkness, more power to you.

But I think something a lot of people are misguided on is that a well-built setting doesn’t necessarily mean a utopic one. Many stories have unfair aspects to their fictional societies, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with depicting these or having a protagonist who believes in something counter to what we do, even if said protagonist never changes their opinions on it by book or series’ end (especially in adult media, and to a lesser extent in YA).

What I think is more constructive and elevates worldbuilding is instead to work out the “why is it like this” and the “how did it come to be like this” and delve further into the “what if it was…”. Take medicine cats not having families, for instance: canon’s “why” and “how” are very similar, “a medicine cat couldn’t be a mom and a doctor and so forbade anyone else from having a family.” Most of us find that very stupid. A reactionary approach would just go, “a medicine cat can have a family,” but a reconstructive approach would integrate medicine cats’ celibacy into the culture by instead going, “medicine cats cannot build families for a religious reason; they are to be as detached from the moral realm as possible so they can remain attuned to their warrior ancestors, and this attunement is muddied by indulging in earthly things like raising a family.” Unfair? Yes, but it’s good worldbuilding.

 Before someone puts words in my mouth, what I’m not saying is, “I think the Clans need to be grimmdark,” but what I am saying is, “think about how the Clans (or Tribe or Sisters or whatever) would realistically view X or Y and how they interconnect with other aspects of their culture.” It’s okay for a society to still need growing up to do; aren’t we all like that?

Side-note before I finish: while thinking about this in relation to canon Warriors, it came to me that part of the reason why we as the readers are so miffed at why the code hasn’t been changed to alleviate inter-Clan relationships despite constant drama surrounding them (ignoring the aspect that the authors love forbidden romance), is because it keeps getting shoved in our faces so often and constantly abused for drama. Had forbidden relationships not be used so often as instigators of drama, I don’t think we would’ve spurred the Erins into addressing it in TBC and ASC.

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

20 for sinnoh trio?

20.) a nostalgic memory from your OC’s childhood?

A lot of nostalgia for this three gets clouded by childhood trauma for them unfortunately. Mostly because the three of them had to grow up real fast dealing with the horrors of the world. And as a result their childhood, even later down the line when they’ve fully come to terms with what happened when they’re adults in Paldea and are starting to make futures on their own, and came to the conclusion that they love the world, it’s all very tainted.

But I think the concept of a simple time when they aren’t trying to grasp with the horrors, even if tainted, is still something they treasure.

Dawn often thinks about her times with Barry in the playground. There’s a specific memory where she remember him scraping his knee in the playground and his parents coming to his aid. She remembers their parents coming to investigate just what happened and why their children were crying (they both were because if one kid starts crying the other most certainly will as well). But it becomes fond when she just remembers both of their parents comforting them, watching Barry’s mom take out a first aid kit and watching her cover up the injury. It was simpler. Back when the tender embrace of your mom and a first aid kit could heal all.

A nostalgic memory for Barry would be with his parents as well. His dad was never around often as far as he knew, but back when his relationship with his mom was better and there wasn’t tension they would often just . Go in their backyard and play. Barry would hang off and piggyback on Dragonite, roughhousing with Palmer’s pokemon. Back when mom and dad got along, back when his own bad thoughts never existed. Like Dawn’s, it was a simpler time back when he didn’t have to grapple with complicated feelings.

Lucas grew up very lonely child and his childhood was very empty. He was loved, don’t get him wrong, he remembers the loving embrace of his parents who would support him in all he did. But he just spent time studying, it’s all he knew. So the first proper “nostalgic” memory is him catching his first pokemon. Having professor Rowan by his side, and feeling that rush seeing the new entry, as well as just the feeling of accomplishment that HE did it. It gave him a sense of rush and childlike wonder, back when learning didn’t feel so complicated.

They also have nostalgic memories together, such as arcade visits, poffin making, and Barry rushing ahead with Lucas trying to catch up, Dawn following far behind at her own pace. Again, back when things were more simple.

[r3yrwy]

some telegram stickers!!!!

my tg channel - https://t.me/windy31meow :D

[bratspike]

8, 16, 21!

love that i asked you 8 too. going to do all yellowjackets

8. common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about

i disagree that lottie is a lesbian. i think as a teen she is genuinely attracted to travis and as an adult she has a castiel endverse who cares it’s all sex attitude so she does sleep with men. maybe less often. and she fucks them with the strap too don’t worry

16. you can’t understand why so many people like this thing

you’re baiting me with this but mistynat. i like conceptually get it but to me nat just has like. zero emotions about misty. and there’s just nothing that i want to sink my teeth into there. and we all know im natlottietravis girl and to be honest i think the narrative is pointing very very strongly to those three being the core of the show and therefore misty is an impediment not an essential person for nat. love and light

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

laura lee im so sorry i think she lived and died and slayed but that’s about it

[nerdierholler]

Regency vampires and Book of Death!! I would love to hear more!!

Thank you for asking!

The initial worldbuilding for the Regency Vampires is here (fixed link) there's about 15 short posts if you want to know more. WHOOPS the original link was funky and missing stuff. I fixed it.

And I've posted a few things previously for the Psychopomps here.

There's some snippets of both under the cut!

Regency Vampires

TL;DR, In this world, vampires live openly as part of, if not entirely accepted by, upper society and have done so for several centuries. They're bound by strict rules and closely monitored, but of course on the surface everyone is oh so polite. I don't have many scenes for this written but here is the vampire heroine running into a vampire friend at a ball.

“I’m only recently arrived back. A slight wound sent me home earlier than planned.” “I’m sorry to hear that, I hope it was nothing serious.” James rubbed a hand over his shoulder, his face betraying a barest hint of remembered pain. “Nothing of concern and already well on its way to being healed, although I imagine it will leave a scar behind as a reminder.” Bess did her best to hide the concern and surprise that threatened to come to the surface. Those of the kindred did not scar easily, that James mentioned it at all meant it must have been a serious injury. She nodded in unspoken acknowledgement, “I’m glad it was nothing more serious and you have returned to your family. Will you be staying in London for the season while you recover?” “Yes, the family thinks I could use some pleasant diversions after being abroad for so long. They were quite insistent in fact.” Bess understood completely, the Banelfords wanted to parade him before the ton to show the great service their family had provided, in accordance with the charter.

(Psycho)pomps and Circumstance

They really are a bit of a chaos crew. I love them dearly but could never come up with any big plot, it's all slice of life and little conversations. Maybe that's enough? I don't know. I've given up on ever having enough thoughts or ideas to put together for something long. Just not how my writing brain works.

Anywho, Thanatos is the suit wearing middle manager of the bunch with an affinity for coffee, so the coffee shop is usually where he checks on Dani.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it today,” she said. “I’ve had three pickups already this morning and another 12 after.”  They called Dani’s name and she grabbed her coffee, sipping it while Thanatos still waited. “Honestly,” he continued, “I thought about just popping in for a look and a wave but I’m going to need something to get me through the rest of these. Besides, you were already at the front of the line so I didn’t have to wait.” Dani rolled her eyes, “Glad to see where your priorities are.” “Coffee and work are always at the top of the list, you know that.” “I see how it is.” Dani dramatically put a hand to her chest, “Our friendship means nothing. Dear god, you wound me. Is this how I go? A crushed heart?” Thanatos didn’t even pretend to inspect the invisible threat of fate that Dani knew allowed him to see when her death was near. “Not today my good lady.” They called for Thanatos and he grabbed his coffee. He took a long drink and sighed, “Back to work.”

[thatoneconfusedcitrus]

hey I wanna get into ppt2, should I watch the first season or is it fine to skip to the second?

oh!! to be honest, i watched the second season first with june. the first season isn't exactly too important unless you want like. a little bit extra context and some personal character lore that's a little hinted at for the characters from the first season? UM if you watch the first season just be aware that it was made by yellow when he was a little kid. soooooo. don't expect high quality anything HBJIDAESNJIAESHIA BUT YEAH you're good to watch the second season straight up

[tofusquisha]

pomped up psychos

[outrageousmenshair]

… DFS SCS MFI MRI ECG DAT CAT DOG HOG PIG BIG BPM BMP PNG DOC XLS XXL XXX BMX XPS DFS… and around we go again. Nah, but seriously, he’s one mean lookin’ mutha with killer class in this impeccable retro rockabilly flattop pomp teddy boy quiff.

He’d look awesome with a horseshoe flat if he ever decided to ditch a coupla inches.

[lilyisda1]

Pomp and Psycho-stance idk

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (3/?)

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k as you can see the chapter count has become a mystery even to me, i really was not anticipating another leo pov and yet the blue boy got me. as always big thank you to  @soldrawss and  @mykimouser for making this au richer and more lived-in than it would have been without them title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2020

Leo is being carried. 

The rest of the world is a shapeless blur of muted color that slides in and out of focus the second he lets his mind wander, so he clings to what he knows. He’s three-fourths little brother down to his very core, and he knows exactly what it feels like to be picked up and taken somewhere by someone who wants him to go to bed, or come eat dinner at the table, or just be held until some danger is gone and a safe place is found. 

The footsteps beneath him echo in all directions even though they’re only resolutely headed in one, and there is a constant dull drum of water moving through pipes, punctuated by drips and splashes, and a stale, pungent smell that coats everything like a layer of growth. 

One sewer tunnel probably sounds like any other, but Leo would like to believe that he knows the way home when he hears it. He runs the risk of being wrong and finding himself someplace unfamiliar but he opens his eyes to take a peek anyway. 

It’s dark, with only passing moments of light from grates overhead to see by, and it takes a few more minutes than it should for Leo to realize that he does know where he is. He knows the poorly designed clusters of pipes, the faded brickwork covered in faded spray paint that a much younger Michelangelo left there before he ran out of room and had to branch out farther, the upcoming intersection with a maintenance tunnel to the left that always floods when it rains, where four little kids used to race paper boats. 

Home, Leo’s heart cries out. He’s so close now. For a crazy minute back there he thought that he’d never go home again. 

Belatedly, he thinks to pull his gaze inward, up toward the face of the person carrying him. Leo’s at an angle where he can really only observe a spotted cheek and a stubborn chin in profile. 

The guy who appeared out of nowhere to save him, the stranger who isn’t really a stranger if the ancestral magic in Leo’s chest that reaches eagerly towards him is to be believed. A bigger turtle who did what bigger turtles always did and carried the smaller one. 

Giorgio—that’s what he said his name was. Another painter. 

Another brother, Leo thinks, catching that thought with both hands and holding tight to it before it can disappear. It’s as quiet and slippery as a fish and Leo’s out here on a boat without a net.

“You know the way,” Leo says. It must be kind of abrupt from the way Gio’s eyes dart down to his in surprise. “You said you did,” Leo adds, to prove he’d been paying attention. “But how? Are you sure you’re real? Or are you a psycho—psy—pomp—uh—the thing that guides people’s souls when they die. You can tell me, I can take it.” 

If this is death it’s not too bad. He’d been imagining something a lot worse. But he can see Gio frown, and feels him shift Leo a little closer, as if daring any other monster lurking in the dark to try its worst. 

“You’re not dying,” the spotted turtle says. “You’ll be fine.” 

Leo assesses himself. Everything is a little floaty, a little hard to hold onto, and his head is killing him. He feels the way he did in the prison dimension, where gravity was an afterthought, half-heartedly doing its job. This feels alarmingly like that. 

He wants to believe he’s out, that home is just a few city blocks away, that he’ll follow his little brother’s paint trails all the way there, but he didn’t earn that miracle. It’s hard to understand why he would have gotten one in the first place. 

He was so sure he was done for. Doubt creeps in. He tries not to be afraid. 

It’s not about me, Leo thinks, but the mantra is losing some of its steel. He’s still that stupid, selfish kid that nearly got everyone killed, after all, he really hasn’t learned a thing. Even though he knows what he deserves, he still wants the other thing. He wants to go home. 

Eventually, Leo realizes that a faint low buzzing in his ear is actually humming. Gio is humming. It’s an unasked for, undeserved comfort, but it soothes the sudden sting of fear like lidocaine. Leo absorbs it, then abruptly something clicks in the back of his mind and the song resolves itself into one he recognizes. 

Three little birds sat on my window…

“Oh,” he says, “I love this song. You must not be an alien after all, not if you know what good music sounds like.” 

“Is that how that works?” Gio stops humming to ask. He’s not smiling, but his voice sounds like one anyway. 

“Hey, I’m the expert here,” Leo says importantly, proud of himself when he only slurs on the sibilants. “You’ve passed the first part of my litmus test. Now I just need you to select all the images that contain bridges.” 

“Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” Leo is about to explain the joke when Gio goes on, completely straight-faced, “We don’t have CAPTCHAs on my planet.”

It takes a moment to register—a longer moment than it should, which Leo is happy to blame on his concussion and Gio’s frankly amazing poker face—but when it does, Leo can’t help but laugh. 

He hasn’t laughed since the invasion started, and for awhile back there he was pretty sure he’d never laugh again, but now he’s wheezing breathlessly even though it sparks pain all through his ribs, half-smothered against Gio’s shoulder. 

When he thinks to look, he sees Gio smiling for real this time.

I don’t know where you came from, Leo thinks, or maybe says out loud, but I’m glad you’re here. 

Gio’s step falters a little bit, but he keeps walking. 

The closer they get to the turnstiles that serve as the front entrance to the lair, the more clearly Leo can make out raised voices. The confused rambling in his brain goes quiet and his heart sits up at attention, because it sounds like Mikey is shouting. It sounds like he’s crying. 

“Oh, no,” Leo says. “We gotta—hey, we gotta get in there.” 

He is abruptly aware of his missing swords, the lack of any suitable stand-in for him to transform into a sword. He’s tapped out, he doesn’t think he could so much as walk a few steps on his own, but he won’t let that stop him. He would portal to the moon a hundred times if it would take that grief-adjacent anger out of his baby brother’s tone. 

Gio doubles his pace, because he’s clearly a turtle with his priorities in order, hopping the turnstiles and shooting like an arrow through the messy living room toward the garage where all the noise seems to be coming from. 

Mikey’s still shouting. The sound is grating and horrible, like it’s hurting his throat to do it, like it’s about to either ratchet up into a shriek or double over into a howl at any moment. Leo can’t make out what he’s saying, but he doesn’t need to know to be unsettled by it. He’s never heard Mikey sound this way before, not even when they lost Gram-gram and the first lair and had to leave dad behind. What could possibly be worse than all of that?

“That’s my sunshine,” Leo tells Gio seriously. “Shouldn’t sound like that at all. World might still be ending.”

“As far as he’s concerned, it is,” Gio replies. “He thinks his big brother died.” 

Leo’s stomach lurches sickly, an instant, intense reaction, because his mind connects ‘big brother’ straight to Raphie and then draws another line to connect Raphie to ‘died,’ and then everything falls out from under him like the ground is gone and the sky is gone and it’s just bleak empty horrible nothing in all directions.

Only he can hear Raph’s warbling rumble from down the hall now, all thick and syrupy, stuttering in a way that’s unlike him. It puts a hard pause on Leo’s panic, yanking up the emergency brake. Raph is alive. 

His twin is also Mikey’s big brother, and maybe that’s who Gio meant, but now that Leo has had a moment of stunned disorientation—confusion that is sitting with itself instead of just screaming wordlessly in both his ears—he realizes Donnie’s little light in Leo’s soul is as warm and alive as ever. So is Raph’s, and Mikey’s, and April’s, and dad’s. Their constellation hasn’t gone dark anywhere. If anything, it’s one star brighter than it used to be. 

Then they’re in the doorway and there’s no more time to think because Leo is staring across the garage at his family, who are all staring back at him. The sudden silence rings for a very long, stretching second. They’re all there—everyone Leo held close to his heart in hell, everyone he was ready to die for. 

They’re all staring at him like they’ve just seen a ghost. They’re all very still, like the ghost might disappear if they’re not careful.

This is when Leo should say something. He had—back in the prison dimension, he had so much he wanted to say to all of them. So many last words and goodbyes. 

When he opens his mouth, what spills out is, “I’m sorry.” He’s looking at Raph, his Raphie, whose right eye is inflamed and puffed closed, whose left shoulder still hasn’t been bandaged by anyone. It must hurt. Leo hates that it hurts, that it’s his fault it hurts. “I’m sorry,” he tries again. “You’re my hero. That’s what I meant. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly Donnie is right there, so fast he must have teleported, which is not a thing that Leo knew Donnie knew how to do. He wastes no time pulling Leo into a crushing hug and they sink to the floor beneath Leo’s weight. 

Leo’s ribs and leg scream in protest but that’s their own problem. Donnie’s snuffling wetly, sad softshell sounds that make Leo’s heart crack right down the middle, that hurt like knives in his stomach, that override every single other thing in the universe. He hugs Donnie back as hard as he’s capable of. He’s not letting go until someone wrestles him away. 

A smaller body collides with them both and the embrace changes shape. Donnie would only loosen this particular brand of death grip if it was to include their baby brother. Mikey burrows right in, shoving his damp face against Leo’s shoulder, his whole body heaving with how hard he’s sobbing. 

And then they’re all seized in huge arms and held securely against a rumbling chest that Leo would know anywhere. He’d know Raph even if he was deaf and blind and numb, he’d know him at the end of the world. The whole world.

“Leo,” Raph sobs. It’s all he can seem to manage, so he says it again. “Leo.” 

“You scared me so bad,” Mikey chokes out. “Lee, I thought, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Leo can’t move more than to press his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head. “Reports of my death have been greatly—” 

“Make one single joke and I’ll murder you, and no jury on earth would convict me for it,” Donnie hisses against his temple, still roughly more turtle than person. 

“Noted,” Leo mumbles, and then makes an upset sound because Raph is setting them all down and Mikey is peeling away just barely and he doesn’t know why they’re letting go even that much until familiar hands are cupping his face. “Daddy,” he realizes, going boneless. “I missed you.”

It’s nowhere near big enough to describe how badly he wanted his dad when he was on the other side of that portal. He doesn’t know any words big enough. 

“I missed you, too, Baby Blue,” Splinter says, stroking the stripes on Leo’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, unendingly gentle, the way nothing in the prison dimension was gentle. “Luckily we will not have another opportunity to miss each other for a very long time because you are grounded for the next century.”

An excuse to stay home forever is not a bad thing to the person Leo is currently, but he still has a brand to maintain, so he says, “Hmf. I want my lawyer.” 

“She’s already filed a motion to withdraw from the case, on grounds of her client being an uncooperative little shit,” April says from somewhere above him, voice drawing in closer as she presses a firm kiss to his forehead. “You’re doing the time.” 

“This whole justice system is a scam,” Leo says. He has to blink hard so he doesn’t lose focus, there’s still one person he hasn’t put eyes on. He’ll have bad dreams if he falls asleep before he checks in on everybody. “Where’s Junior? He’ll be on my side.” 

Something uncomfortable and guilty steals across his sibling’s faces—the faces Leo can see, anyway. Donnie still has his tucked in the crook of Leo’s neck and shoulder and doesn’t seem inclined to change that anytime soon. Raph ducks out of the way a little, and Mikey says, “He’s—yeah, he’s here—” 

The human boy who shuffles forward is wringing his hands, face ashen and tacky with old tears and eyes glassy with new ones. He looks more anxious and sick to his stomach now than he did when he was unwillingly pitched through a time gateway by the remnants of his doomed family. The second he meets Leo’s eyes he crumples to his knees so he’s looking up at Leo instead of down, this poor kid they all owe so much. 

“I’m so sorry,” Casey says. His voice doesn’t tremble or break but there’s barely any air behind it, like it’s taking everything he has to get the words out. “I closed the portal on you. I killed you. I’m so sorry, sensei.” 

Leo hates everything about this. He lurches forward, gets exactly nowhere with all the people holding him, but manages to free an arm and snatch up one of Casey’s restless hands.

“Three things,” he says, wishing he could be more eloquent, “and you need to listen.” 

“I’m listening,” Casey whispers. 

“I told you to close the portal. I put that on you. That wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have made you do that. Right after you lost your dad. That was just—horrible for you—and when my brain isn’t a scrambled egg I’ll make it up to you. I will,” he adds fiercely, when Casey opens his mouth to interject. “Hush. You’re still listening. The second thing—you didn’t kill me, I’m right here. Alive, not a ghost.” 

Not a ghost, he thinks, because no one would go all the way to the prison dimension to save a ghost. And no one would hum for a ghost, or carry one home, or share a stupid joke to make the darkness around them not so dark. Not a ghost. 

“And—you’re still listening?” Leo checks. Casey nods jerkily like a puppet on a string. Leo squeezes his hand and says, “You saved us. You saved everybody. Don’t be sorry. You’re a lifesaver, Casey Jones.”

That child soldier comportment finally dissolves enough for the shaken seventeen-year-old underneath it all to peer out, devastated, orphaned, displaced. He holds Leo’s hand in both of his own and nods again. 

“How did you get out, Leo?” Raph asks, absurdly tentative as he asks the question they’re probably all wondering. He sounds afraid to jinx his good luck. 

“New brother,” Leo says. “Who is not imaginary. Or an alien. He was tested extensively and passed with flying colors.”

“Good to know,” April says, gently stroking his sore head the way he could remember her doing every time he was sick since the age of seven. Then she pauses. “Wait, did you say—”

It’s funny, they’re all ninjas or ninja-adjacents, and they still managed to completely forget about the whole entire extra mutant turtle in the room. The turtle who carried Leo here, who Donnie extracted Leo from in the first place, who has been quietly observing their reunions this entire time. 

So overall, situational awareness is definitely an area that needs some improvement, but in their defense it’s been one hell of a day. 

Gio, for his part, is as good as a statue in the doorway. Every warm hint of feeling Leo managed to thaw out of him is back behind a resting murder face, that face that stared down the Krang General without flinching. 

“Hi,” he says once the entire room is staring at him, as unflappable as ever. “Gio,” he adds, by way of introduction. 

He’s so cool, Leo thinks, or maybe says out loud, if the sidelong looks his siblings give him are any indication. It’s hard to keep track when all he wants to do is lay his aching head down for roughly fifty consecutive hours. 

“Oh,” Mikey says, wide-eyed. It’s a sentiment echoed on Donnie and Raph’s faces, too. 

They’re letting themselves feel it, recognizing him the way Leo did in that connected place where their ninpo lives—the steadfast red mountain, and brilliant purple lightning, and cheerful orange bonfire, and mischievous blue wind, the landscape that Leo knows as well as he knows his own face in the mirror. 

There’s another feeling there now, another color; a fifth presence. Soft, unassuming gray that could turn stormy in an instant. Calm water meeting the shore at low tide. Miles away yet, not quite close enough to touch, but undeniable. A piece they hadn’t even realized was missing until it wasn’t anymore. 

“Little Spot?” Splinter blurts. He looks rattled. If he wasn’t kneeling on the floor already he might have fallen over. He pushes himself upright, bracing himself on Raph’s shoulder, and says, “It is you. One of my sweet baby turtles. But how can it be you? I watched—the day we escaped the lab, a machine went haywire, and you were—”

“The light you saw back then was a portal,” Gio says. His tone gives absolutely nothing away. He could just as easily be talking to anyone about any old thing. “It didn’t kill me. It just took me someplace else.” 

“A portal,” Splinter says numbly. “All this time, one of my babies has just been—someplace else.”

“Splints, how can you be so sure?” April says, more out of journalistic curiosity than any real disbelief. 

Splinter beckons at Gio with both hands. There’s a brief, stilted pause on Gio’s end, and then he obediently folds to his knees so the rat can reach him. He looks like the very last thing he’s expecting is to be held the way Leo was held just minutes ago, his spotted face cradled carefully in his dad’s hands. Suddenly he looks his age. 

“Yes, look at that,” Splinter says warmly. “He has my eyes, just as his brothers do. There is no mistake. He is one of ours.” 

From the way Gio blinks, it’s his first time hearing anything like that. His stillness now is more aligned with a prey animal than a badass alien-killing predator, as if he’s keeping himself safe by not moving a single inch or even breathing visibly. Leo feels a pang in his stomach, made lonely just by proximity to that expression on his new brother’s face. 

Stick around, Georgie, Leo thinks, and you’ll forget what it felt like to be alone. I promise, I swear. 

“Oh, what?” Mikey whines thickly, rubbing his face dry on Leo’s arm like the brat he is. “We had another brother this whole time and we’re only just getting him now? That’s not fair!” 

“Clemmys guttata, an aquatic turtle,” Donnie says, bright-eyed with interest. “Clearly a man of distinguished taste. I’ll need a blood sample.”

“Donnie,” April says with an air of exhaustion. 

“Raph has so many questions,” Raph admits. 

“I’ll answer them,” Gio says calmly. If he’s overwhelmed, it would be nearly impossible to prove it. “But first Leo needs a medic.” 

It’s comical the way everyone springs into action the second they finish processing that statement—or it would be, if Leo wasn’t suddenly un-hugged by a whole bunch of people. Displeased, he says, “He doesn’t need a medic, he is a medic. I know exactly which of my bones are broken, thank you very much.” 

“You have broken bones?” Donnie snaps. “And you’ve just been sitting on the floor letting us manhandle you like an entire idiot?” 

“Infirmary,” Casey announces, already halfway across the room. “Sensei trained me in field medicine, I can help with anything short of open-heart surgery. Are we stocked?”

“Who do you think you’re dealing with?” April says, which means ‘yes, our resident paramedic is pedantic about one thing and one thing only and that’s having enough medical supplies to outlast a zombie apocalypse.’ 

Leo is scooped up in Raph’s arms, handled much more carefully now that everyone is aware of his not-entirely-intact state. Normally at this point he would be sinking, lulled into uselessness. The adrenaline fading, the individual hurts jumping up and down and waving pompoms to get his attention. He’s so close now to being able to just lay down and let someone else take care of things, but—

But Gio hasn’t made any move to join them. He’s lingering behind, like he’s trying to be respectful of someone else’s family during this difficult time. Or like he’s just waiting for them to forget about him so he can disappear. 

Leo’s heart jumps as panic seizes him by the throat and all quiet, peaceful thoughts of passing out go up in smoke. 

“Wait,” he blurts, lurching forward so suddenly that Raph almost drops him. “Hey, don’t go.” 

What if the Krang comes back? What if Leo gets lost and ends up in the prison dimension again? What if he never got out in the first place? Leo is pretty sure he’s home for real, and he’s almost one-hundred percent positive that everything is okay, but he wants Gio to be here just in case. He wants all his siblings safe where he can see them, including this one. 

Leo doesn’t realize he’s reaching until his open hands are taken carefully. Gio holds them and leans in to look right at Leo so Leo can look right at him. His eyes are deep and dark but there’s rich, warm brown in them when the light’s just right. His face could be carved from stone, but it softens for smaller turtles. 

Gio glances up at Raph. Leo doesn’t have to look to know that Raph is probably smiling warmly back at him. If Gio is looking for a reason to leave, he won’t find one there. 

Donnie is a harder sell on most days, but not on this one. He’s still got one hand wrapped around Leo’s arm. He’s still shivering off and on, like he just had a really close brush with his absolute worst nightmare and now he keeps seeing afterimages of it each time he blinks. Donnie would be willing to make peace with Big Mama and Witch Town and the Purple Dragons all in the same day if they were the ones who brought his twin home—but since it was Gio, he gets the free lifetime pass into Donatello’s good graces, which is a lot like winning the Powerball jackpot on your first try. 

And Mikey, of course, is everything bright and sweet and spoiled in the world, beaming at Gio and gearing up to baby brother his way into getting exactly what he wants, accepting no substitutions. 

“Come on, at least give us the chance to win you over,” he wheedles. “I’ll make my world-famous breakfast empanadas in the morning if that sweetens the pot!”

Gio seems to have no idea how to look directly at Mikey’s shining face, so he looks down at his own hands instead. Leo holds onto them a little tighter, and it feels almost like being back in the prison dimension, knowing the most important thing he can do is hold on. 

Come in already, Leo imagines calling out to the tide, that distant crashing water still dithering off the coast, still making its mind up about making this place its home. We saved a spot for you. 

“Stay,” Leo says stubbornly. Unreasonably, maybe. Gio came here from somewhere, and presumably has somewhere to go when he’s done killing aliens and babysitting clingy turtles, but he can belong to them, too, can’t he? They’re all big kids, they can share. 

Whoever else loves him out there in the universe must love him enough to share, or they wouldn’t have let him go in the first place. 

“Let’s make a deal,” Gio finally offers. 

“I’m listening,” Leo replies, game face on.

“If you accept all the medical attention Casey decides you need without sulking or fast-talking or trying to sneak off,” Gio says flatly, that blink-and-you-miss-it humor, “I’ll stay for breakfast.” 

Leo gapes at him, game face off. “Uh, hey, new guy, what gave you the impression I would do any of those things?” 

Donnie doesn’t bother containing his snort, amusement breaking through the stormy upset on his face, and Mikey laughs out loud. Raph’s chest is rumbling, affectionate and happy, and Gio is gazing at all of them like he knows exactly how much their smiles are worth. 

Like he knows exactly how much Leo is worth, and he’s willing to stick around anyway. 

“Deal?” Gio says, quiet and kind. 

“Yeah.” Leo matches his tone without meaning to, all but whispering, “Deal.”

[veltroxx]

Did the man know the video would be broadcast to the world? Did he realize that his interaction in front of the drone’s lens would be seen by an entire nation? Absolutely not. Certainly not. Without a doubt, no.

When the protagonist of Thorns and Carnations threw his weapon at the invincible aircraft, it wasn’t to be admired or to set an example. Bloodied and standing to his last breath, he was challenging his enemy with honor, not seeking to create a heroic image. He wasn’t bound by the fear of defeat or driven to make his final act one of indomitable bravery.

He was simply a true leader, confronting his enemy with nothing but courage. All he wanted was to deny his foe the satisfaction of a victory where brute force triumphs over the sword in the final act. His only goal was to leave his enemy — and his enemy alone — with a look of defiance that would echo in their memory forever.

In that moment, the man didn’t see us. He didn’t care to be seen by us. He saw only his enemy, focused solely on challenging them with his final breath.

But fate had other plans. Fate turned his final stand into an immortal memory, witnessed by the world — a testament to his bravery, heroism, and sacrifice, and to his enemy’s arrogance and incompetence. Free palestine and fuck Israel.

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[fadingclub]

What text font did you use for psycho pomp?

It's a custom font I made called dbStylez. I initially made it for DashBored 2, but I ended up also using it in DreamWild and Psychopomp.

[ravinoforre]

Who up pomping their psycho? For @latealzalost ^_^

[teddythegreat]

Alrighty, slight thing that I in no way think was intentional by the writers but still find funny.

Technically Rio isn't so much Death as she is a psycho-pomp or a spirit guide, given that she just "reaps" or escorts souls rather than kills them. This makes Jen calling her a "psycho" and Rio nodding enthusiastically infinitely funnier because Jen gets SO CLOSE to Rio's identity without even realizing it haha

[beehiveofblorbos]

I reflected on what actual death flags Venti has and I couldn’t remember any just that I strongly believed at one point (and some of it lingers) that he was likely to die. Didn’t know abt the leaked voicelines either lmfao that’s pretty comforting. Anyway

What are Venti death flags if y’all think he has any?

Hi.

"Death flags" aren't real. Hope this helps. There is no such thing. Stop fearmongering.

Venti can not die. He is literally born from the branches of time, is connected to istaroth, God of time, can see the future and has leaked voicelines about when traveler becomes allies with Tsaritsa. That fucker is here to stay, AT LEAST until the end of Snezhnaya arc.

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

The Disney Universal has unlimited potential! Finding out there's families of dragons protecting regular people from magical threats. Lilo and her Ohana??? Monsters in the closet?

Realizing your toys came to life without one around.

Anne gonna be getting shock after shock after ascending, isn't she?

[During Goddess orientation]

D3: and that’s roughly everything. If you have any questions, you can refer to either an avatar, psycho pomp or the celestial guidebook.

Anne: …how did all of this happen under all of our noses?

D3: You’d be surprised at how self-centered most “intelligent” species are.