#sorry this got away from me lmao

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Andy discussing his film "Breathe" at Build Series in NYC.

[crazymecjc]

but can you imagine Jace from Act3 end up seeing Viktor from season 1 and BECOMING absolutely crazy, careful, obsessed with staying with him all the time/making sure he doesn't get evil/corrupted by the Hexcore and still with the knowledge that this man saved him countless times from death, that he chose him in all dimensions and possibilities and that Old jace from the past DIDN'T realize it.

HI ANON. IM IMAGINING ‼️‼️‼️‼️

(I’m taking jayvik drawing requests! send me an ask!!)

[flysafepapi]

Oscar Tully said "I accept you as my vassal, Willem Blackwood, but I am Lord Paramount of all Riverhouses and there is only one answer for the crimes you have visited upon your neighbours."

But all I heard was "You stand accused of murder. You stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges, Lord Baelish?"

[b4kuch1n]

siren

[padmesbox]

You love to bring up our record. Our record is 4 and 1 after you beat me at WrestleDream, and you beat me, I will give you that.

[tsutsumi-kurose]

Do you have any Tsukasa analyses?

hi!! thank you sm for the ask!! i love tsukasa analyses, so i was really excited to get this!! there is a small/specific thing i've been thinking about with regards to a couple tsukasa moments recently, and that is:

tsukasa and some not-so-rhetorical questions

there are two specific instances i've been thinking about recently of tsukasa asking typically rhetorical questions in a genuine way. the first time happens in chapter 91. when hanako and nene ask tsukasa how he got to them and why he was there, he asks "who cares?"

i find it really interesting that this question comes before tsukasa asks a long series of hard hitting questions about nene's lifespan, hanako's wish, and destroying the yorishiros. he's asking very real, actionable questions! and this question is grouped in with them! so while "who cares?" is typically a very throwaway question, coming from tsukasa in this moment, i read it as having much more weight. i think tsukasa is experiencing the feeling of that in a very real way. especially given the context of more recent chapters ("he doesn't come when i call," "if you want out, you're going to have to do the best you can by yourself," etc.) while this question may come across as flippant, tsukasa must truly be wondering: "genuinely, who cares where i've been? how or why i'm here? genuinely, do either of the two of you care what i'm up to? you're worried about nene's lifespan and the yorishiros. who he cares about how i got here or why? i have no reason to believe you do." i don't think it's a stretch to think that a boy whose calls for help don't get answered would genuinely wonder: who cares?

and with all the context of 91 up to now, i love to read this question in 110 as a genuine question from tsukasa that hanako hears as rehtorical, and flippant:

"so?" asked so briefly and bluntly is often a rhetorical question: more a statement of "that doesn't matter" or "i don't care." and from hanako's perspective, he has just poured his heart out. he's just said, "yes i could have anything in the whole world, but then i wouldn't have you." to him, this surely must seem like a logical fill in of, "I wouldn't trade you for anything."

but this is tsukasa. tsukasa, who has spent god knows how many years calling out for amane with no response. tsukasa, who knows the following to be fact: 1) hanako knows tsukasa is his yorishiro. 2) hanako has been working to destroy all the yorishiros. thus, the logic from the facts tsukasa has would say that hanako prefers to be without tsukasa. of course he'll be confused that hanako's words suggest he doesn't want to be apart when all he's done with his actions is keep tsukasa away from himself!

it's not surprising, then, that he would want an explanation of how these things connect. the facts tsukasa has say amane doesn't care about him and is prepared to destroy him. so of course amane saying "i wouldn't give you up for anything" is not going to compute, that seems like almost an exact contradiction to the facts tsukasa is working with. the "so?" here is the same question tsukasa's been asking since 1968 in chapter 101: "you'd prefer it if i stayed here, right, amane? or would you rather me gone?" tsukasa thought he had the answer, but now amane's saying the opposite.

i love this panel, because it reads as so hopeful. i really read this as tsukasa wanting to know more about why amane is hung up on never seeing tsukasa again. how often does tsukasa ever want anything for himself? other than to know how someone is feeling? and this moment feels significantly softer than other times he's asked similar things. tsukasa's always asking: what are you thinking? what are you feeling? amane, are you happy to see me? so i think he's genuinely asking here: why would that be a problem? i interpret this panel as tsukasa really, genuinely asking amane to explain that he cares about him, that he wants to be with him. because he has nothing to go off of to prove that that's the case. are you happy to see me, amane? so what if you can never see me again, amane?

to get really specific, i love the lighting in tsukasa's eyes in this panel. his eyes are mostly in shadow, but there's just a bit of light at the tops of them; his irises are almost all black, but there's a little bit of light flooding in at the bottom. because i love to torture myself with tsukasa angst (lol), i like to interpret this specific lightning choice as representing understanding beginning to dawn for tsukasa. a literal flicker of hope. maybe... amane does care about him? maybe amane does want him around? he might just be starting to understand that amane cares, but he needs it explained more, needs it spelled out. hanako's actions have not suggested this is true, so all he can go off of are hanako's words. he needs more words from hanako to make it make sense. so? why would that matter? he's starting to get it, but he has to ask, especially since it goes against all the other signs he's been given.

but, of course, hanako is hanako/amane is amane (i love him but he does win worst communicator for more than fifty years running <3 lmao) so he takes this as a rejection, and doles out his own in return, not hearing the request tsukasa is making, thus affirming what tsukasa already thought: that he hates tsukasa.

the mix of light and dark is gone from tsukasa'a eyes after hanako says "i hate you so much."

his face and eyes are flush with light--with clarity. i know you hate me, amane. no more doubt, no more questions, no more hope.

i'm obsessed with the angst of this entire interaction, and tsukasa asking, "so?" is the hinge it all rests on. the moment of suspension.

here's their chance. here is tsukasa wanting to understand why hanako isn't going through with the plan just because the two of them would never see each other again. here is hanako's chance to explain that he cares.

but it can't line up, not expressed like this. not with "do you love me?" tsuakasa and "of course!" amane. not when they're both so sure their love for the other is obvious, not when they both hear rejection in everything. not when they've both come to expect loneliness as a default, to the point where the other caring about them is never the logical conclusion in their eyes, no matter how obvious their love for the other seems to themselves.

here is a beginning, here in tsukasa's eyes, in his question. but both of them are only ever expecting an end.

(this analysis of tsukasa's eyes in this interaction also connects to the seed of a larger theory i want to explore more soon, which is the possibility that tsukasa's eyes going black isn't necessarily--or at least not exclusively--about the entity's powers taking over, but rather/additionally a reflection of his emotional state... but then that also ties into the really long post i'm trying to wrangle into coherence about tsukasa being genuinely tsukasa... so i may have to elaborate on that another time lol)

thank you again for the ask!! i really love diving into all the possible meanings behind specific/small moments, so i had a lot of fun with this!!

[eefaevie]

✨ my official good omens s3 prediction post ✨

which accidentally I guess comes with a side-order of analysis and a soupçon of meta because I can’t shut up

The quote "The plans for Armageddon are going wrong. Only Crowley and Aziraphale working together can hope to put it right. And they aren’t talking." is intentionally misleading.

I think with Aziraphale gone, Crowley is going to become Grand Duke of Hell. He’s hurt, he’s tired, he’s got nothing to lose anymore. He’s also a bit of a dramatic petty bitch (affectionate), and after suffering what he considers the ultimate betrayal from Aziraphale, he wants to hit him where it would hurt equally by joining the “bad guys” fully. Crowley thinks of himself as unforgivable, and since (in his mind) Aziraphale refuses to “see” him for who he really is, he’s going to force him to by acting out like this (beside the fact that we know that this isn’t actually who Crowley is, but he’s injured and lashing out, even if it hurts himself, too.)

So, that quote. The plans for armageddon are going wrong. as in heaven can’t get it to start. And the only way they CAN get it to start is to get the Grand Duke of Hell and the Supreme Archangel to work together, which they are refusing to do. Think about all those meetings between Gabriel and Beelzebub — those definitely didn’t start off as dates, they were business meetings. And so Aziraphale and Crowley REFUSE to speak to each other (with MAXIMUM pettiness and passive aggressive comedy) because they’re both mad at each other for their mutual miscommunication, but also because they KNOW that if they do work together they’ll end up fucking it up somehow (and actually set the second coming back on track, which they obviously don’t want). The one thing that is a common thread through Good Omens is that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually kind of useless at their jobs, and they usually end up accomplishing the opposite of whatever it is they are supposed to do. Aziraphale is still in the grip of heaven, and can be manipulated — while Crowley is probably still terrified of Satan, and now that he’s kind of recklessly agreed to such a big promotion, that’s now his immediate superior.

(So really, if you’re useless at your job, and consistently do everything wrong, and you’re trying to stop a massive project — the best place to be would probably be in charge of that project, no?)

So anyways, cue Muriel being used for the most immature go-betweens (“Muriel, dear, please tell the Grand Duke that I won’t be able to make our dinner reservation this evening because he is a lying snake.” “Muriel, tell the Supreme Arseangel that I never made the reservation anyways and his holiestness was presumptuous to assume so.” etc etc)

I’m also betting that the Metatron orchestrated his offer to Aziraphale very intentionally, because he knows that they’re each other’s most precious thing, and he knew that raising Crowley would be the best possible offer to get Aziraphale to agree, but also, he knew that Crowley himself would never agree to it. Which left Aziraphale in a tricky position. He’s still too afraid of heaven to back out, and by separating him from Crowley, the Metatron thinks he has succeeded in both eliminating the biggest threat to the second coming (the earth’s only professional apocalypse-thwarters with extremely powerful joint miracles) and planted (what he believes to be) a huge pushover of an angel in the seat of power — essentially a puppet for the Metatron’s commands.

(I’m not even going to get into the alleged threat of the book of life at this point, but that’s it own big bag of worms)

Problem is, the Metatron severely underestimated how much these two are idiots, how far they’re willing to go for love (or how far they’ll go when they believe their love has been scorned), and again, I cannot stress this enough — how much they’re both idiots.

Crowley accepting the position of Grand Duke seems out of character, until you realize it absolutely is not. (The same thing goes for Aziraphale accepting the position of Supreme Archangel, btw.) With everything else happening, it’s going to be effectively Crowley’s only option — Aziraphale is gone, the second coming is coming, and there’s a convenient little vacancy at the top of Hell’s hierarchy. He’ll take it because he’s upset and hurt by Aziraphale, but he’ll also take it because he’s angry, and it’s the only way he can possibly have any impact on what happens next.

I’d go so far as to say that Crowley loves Earth primarily because he loves Aziraphale, and Aziraphale loves Earth. Crowley is always the one to suggest running away when the going gets tough, because his top priority is always Aziraphale’s safety. If the Earth ends up a casualty, well, boohoo, at least he’s got his Angel with him. Now, though, he’s got no Aziraphale — so what’s the point in sticking to Earth? Remember how he pretty much immediately gave up on stopping the apocalypse when he thought Aziraphale was dead? Yeah. (In fact, he probably realizes very quickly that if he wants any hope of having Aziraphale back and sharing their lives together — this time for real — he has to take drastic measures to make sure Earth and humanity survives. He’s an optimist, and he’s also selfish.)

So, surprise, Metatron! You just took these two will-they-won’t-they eternal virgins and made them business partners. Which is an issue.

Because remember, for one supreme archangel to fall in love with the grand duke of hell during dubious business meetings makes a good story. For it to happen twice makes it look like there is some kind of… institutional problem.

We’ve taken the “workplace” in “workplace comedy” and dialled it up to 12. Now it’s not two salarymen from rival companies just kinda begrudgingly doing what they’re told until they don’t, it’s two high-ranking executives from rival companies who’ve decided they’re in love with each other, they’re done with this shit, and they’re taking the whole industry down from the inside.

Never forget that Good Omens is, at its core, a comedy. I believe we will get the romantic south down ending, for sure, but the path to get there is going to be a farce. They’re not talking — perhaps only in the business sense — so who knows the hijinks and shenanigans and making out they’re going to make everyone around them put up with this season. Aziraphale orchestrated an entire Jane Austen ball for Crowley before they’d even touched mouths. They’re going to be insufferable and I’m praying for Muriel’s sanity.

Finally, the final element of my prediction: Jesus will be there, probably. Maybe even Adam, too! Maybe it’ll even be lost celestial baby pt. 2: electric boogaloo. (as you can see my priorities are mostly regarding what happens with Aziraphale and Crowley lmao)

(and also, you know that dinky little half miracle they pulled together for jimbo? They were a couple of nobodies then. Imagine a full-powered joint miracle between a Supreme Archangel and a Grand Duke?)

(…Imagine a full-powered joint miracle between two supreme archangels and two grand dukes? 👀 ok ok who knows but also I’m not convinced we’ve seen the last of beez and gabe)

ok bye ❤️

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @diazsdimples @tizniz @daffi-990 @bidisasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck 💖💖

i wasn't gonna post today but I'm currently writing another one of Buck and Taylor's arguments and I'm having so much fun lol (there's gonna be only one more conversation between them after this haha) I keep having new ideas for the in-between of what I had planned, and I hope all of this turns out coherent, I'm probably gonna have to do so much editing lol I'm so determined to post it this month and I'm actually inspired!

prev snippet

___

“I don’t know what to tell you.” he sighs, averting his gaze, as he’s trying to think about anything to say, but his mind is blank. 

“How about the truth? I really just want to know what the hell is going on with you. Because this-” she throws her hands out, vaguely gesturing around. “This isn’t a life together, and I don’t know how many more times we can have this exact same conversation.”

“Taylor…” he starts, hoping more words would come. “I’m sor-”

“Is there someone else?” she blurts out, angry tears welling in her eyes. He feels his own eyes widen in surprise, and his cheeks burn.

“What?”

“I mean, are you seeing someone else?” she doubles down, her tone a little shaky, but still determined. Suddenly, he feels his heart in his throat, and he has to make a conscious effort to breathe. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive been unhealthily fixated on kubosai for the past few weeks, i just have no idea how to put it into words. kuboyasu aren and saiki kusuo are in love btw

[lokh]

Im gonna need your like, whole musical rec list, bc literally every song you have posted has not flopped once, give me your faves i need to eat them

OUGHHH YOUVE UNLOCKED THE BEAST ARGSHHFHJDF....

in the interest of making this both easily accessible but not stretching the dashboard, im embedding bandcamp links when i can, otherwise linking to youtube when unavailable

in no particular order, inclusion based mostly on what im still actively into LMAO but also just things you should give a go at least once:

list of artist recommendations

zeal and ardor: described as a mix of african-american spirituals and black metal. try devil is fine, you aint coming back, wake of a nation or church burns

bloodywood: indian folk metal, literally nobody is doing it like them. recently featured in monkey man (2024), try chakh le, yaad or dana dan

stromae: if youve never heard any of his songs WHAT ARE YOU DOING..... incredible lyricist, described as a blend of hip hop/electronic. papaoutai made the rounds on tumblr a while back, but you should also try santé and l'enfer

alamat: pinoy pop. a youtube commenter described them as sounding like 2nd gen kpop which probably also explains why i took a shine to them LMAO, notable for the amount of filipino culture on display and the diversity thereof (singing in different languages, themes). first heard them thru kasmala either here or on twitter lmao, try aswang or maharani

andy bull: alt-pop. a lot of poppy and upbeat songs with a melancholic undertone imo. an australian artist, try it's all connected or keep on running

cosmo sheldrake: electronic, wikipedia also lists him as folktronica and baroque pop. you may have heard the song come along on an apple ad - hes known for sampling sounds from nature. pliocene for example features sounds from endangered ecosystems.

if you like cosmo sheldrake, you might like hidden orchestra (electronica, ambient). also making use of field recordings, i really love the archipelago mixtape but its a hard sell at about an hour lmao. if you like the following song then i implore you to give it a go

son lux: experimental, you may have heard from them in the entire soundtrack for everything everywhere all at once (!!!!!). try dangerous, dream state (brighter night) or live another life.

ammar 808: electronic/world fusion, also behind bargou 08 (folk rock you should also listen to). i just cant get ain essouda out of my head, but i also love geeta duniki

miyavi: j-rock, used to be a visual kei artist. these days he might be known more for anime openings like flashback (kokkoku) or other side (id:invaded), or for work like snakes in arcane (or actually inspiring and voicing a character in it), but ive always been partial to his early work like sukkyanen myv or ashita, genki ni naare

songs/albums

'threads' album by now, now (indie rock).

'dream to make believe' or 'what to do when you are dead' by armor for sleep (rock, emo). here's the truth about heaven from the latter album

i already posted about it but denzel curry's 13lood 1n + 13lood out mixx (rap, trap) is extremely good

the guilty gear soundtracks and im so serious im not fucking joking. different kinds of rock and metal and all sorts of influences put in, a genuine labor of love. xrd and earlier games are mainly instrumental with some vocal tracks (try give me a break or big blast sonic), while strive pretty much always includes vocals (of course i need to rec rock parade, but also try requiem. its genuinely hard for me to pick and choose lmao)

not an album and not an artist

coke studio pakistan and coke studio bangla knocking it out of the fucking park, im particularly a fan of harkalay and kotha koiyo na. you could try the other coke studios too (tamil, india, etc)

triple j like a version is when the radio station triple j brings in artists and has them do a cover of a song (artists choice). i liked denzel curry's cover of bulls on parade and flume's shooting stars (video for this one is incredible, man had a vision you just have to stick it out), but you get a lot of interesting interpretations like the wombats' running up that hill, gordi's in the end or, infamously. the wiggles' elephant

ive DEFINITELY missed out some, but thats what my music tag is for LMAO i hope someone discovers something they like here!!!!

[adiraofthetals]

Jett keeps on sneaking in candy in engineering, and Paul has no clue how she does it anymore. Just to taunt him, she keeps on putting candy on his desk. Then he gives it to Adira most of the time because Adira has a sweet tooth. Sometimes when he sees it he will see the candy and just angrily eat it if he had a long day.

[skyafied]

if you are still taking requests, could you draw heavy surrounded birds like a disney princes and medic looking lovingly from the distance

Hey anon how does it feel to have an absolutely massive brain, like just ginormous

[barbreypilled]

can I say she’s the Prim of The Dragon Books or will y’all put me to the sword

don’t tag as racebending

[cowardlybean]

What's your favorite mp100 episode and why?

THIS IS A REALLY TOUGH QUESTION FOR ME because I really enjoy the interlocking aspects of different episodes which really makes it hard to choose Just One. The same goes for picking a favorite character because my favorite part of them all is how they navigate the bonds in their lives!!!

Off the top of my head though my contenders were S2 EP7, S3 EP8, and S3 EP12. (S2 EP5 and S1 EP5 were runner ups though) so I practically have to spin a wheel to choose one to talk about here.

So we’re going with S2 EP7! Now I see a lot of people favor this episode because it shows Reigen’s loneliness, it’s funny to see him cancelled, it’s a view into how he acts without Mob by his side, and he’s a truly a good person deep down, and those ALL contribute to make an incredibly good episode, but they’re not what truly draws me in. It’s Two things: the significance of sunlight in mp100, and the fact this episode follows Mogami arc.

Before I even watched mp100 a friend showed me a post about the symbolism of sunlight in certain scenes, and it Stuck with me. Lighting is a super important motif in this episode, actually. The harsh artificial lighting of the tv show set is, well, harsh and scrutinizing, the darkness of Reigen’s room and the office lacks a natural warmth, it’s lonely and empty, the flashes of light from the press conference cameras are quick and shocking, leaving no time to recover like the questions they shoot off, and finally the sunlight facing Reigen when Mob tells him that he is a good person at the end, the warm glow of everything Positive that scene portrays. And the lighting of the previous episode begins that trend, with the dark alleyway and the harsh streetlamp. The intensities and colorations portray the emotional feelings of each scene AND symbolize Mob’s effect on Reigen. (Something something light of his life theyre FAMILY i tell you)

As for the Mogami arc tie-in. I don’t even have to spell it out it’s DIRECTLY after the message that “people need other people” AND Mob’s lesson of courage to stand up to people. And It Shows. He doesn’t hesitate to tell Reigen what he’s doing is an ass move, and is quick to distance himself when he needs it. And Reigen learns just how much he relies on Mob as a friend, just how much Mob has truly changed him as a person as well. He Learns and Continues to show that he’s Understood The Lesson throughout the show. He brings in Teru and Ritsu while Mob trains for the marathon right after all this!!!!!!!!!!! It’s all interwoven throughout the series because these past events are Never forgotten.

also a couple of things I like but don’t wanna write a paragraph about: I love how Reigen is an asshole and doesn’t get away with it as comic relief, I love the pretty accurate portrayal of the media blowing things out of proportion, I love the parallels of Reigen’s short lived fame and Mogami’s, and. yeah i love this episode so much

[cepheusgalaxy]

Oh you're Brazilian, correct? *saw ur bio*

I was wondering if there's anything I should or shouldnt do when making a Brazilian OC.

Oh hi!

First of all, thank you for the ask :) I'm very happy you decided to make a brazilian oc, whatever is the reason (if any at all lol) 👍 Keep up the good work.

Now, generally, what you should avoid are the most common stereotypes assossiated with latin people in general (like the Latino Lover stereotype), and some specifically assossiated with us a lot:

The Soccer Player ("every brazilian [black] guy obv plays soccer"), the Samba Dancer ("every brazilian black girl dances samba"), the Sexy Brazilian (everybody has their preferences ig but try to step away from fetishization--also falls into the latino lover a little) and the Carnival Party Person ("brazil is a very big carnival party all of the time") are some examples of stuff you should avoid.

Some things I would advise you to consider aside from this are A. Their race, B. The area they're from and C. Cultural differences (I'm gonna list them in a bit).

I mention race here because a very common thing in Brazil, actually (at least if you don't consider the South/South East) is the miscigenation phenomena. Long story short, some centuries ago, the colonizers had an... "idea" of toning down the population of black people in the country, so interracial relationships were very incentivated to "breed" lighter skinned black people. Results: On this day, most brazilian people in the Northern areas are not 100% black, but very very mixed (like me). A lot of people have dark skin, though.

Now, the area where they are from would also play a big factor in the things you want to consider, because Brazil is big, so we generally divide it into five areas (this division was made in 1969 i think, by the IBGE--the brazilian institute of geography and statistics): The North, North East, Central West, South East and South. If you search for a map with this categorization you'll be able to see it.

Culturally, these areas are very different, but I'll go through them briefly here.

North - most of the indigenous folk are concentrated here (for many historical reasons) and here is also the Amazonic forest (a bit of it is in other countries' territorries but I don't remember exactly which). The demographic density (which is the amount of people per say, mile) is very sparse, and despiste it being the largest area out of the five it isn't the most populated. Indigenous cultural heritage is the strongest here.

Nort East - warmest area in the country. The majority of people here are black or brown (for a lot of other historical reasons i unfortunately can't go on about here but they are very interesting if you wanna search up) and African cultural heritage is the strongest here.

Central West - has a very little amount of states here, and also the Federal District--aka the capital, Brazilia (fun fact: Brazilia isn't localized in any state, like the capital used to be, it is separated, so that's why we say Brazil has 26 states + one federal district). I don't know a lot about this one, so I'm gonna rely on Google a little, but basically:

That's the only area that is not bathed by the Atlantic, so no sea here at all, and back in Colonization Days, it was a very explored area for mineration (one of the states here, Minas Gerais, was named because of that, fun fact). Most of the population here is white (50,5%) and brown [mixed race] (43%) source (wikipedia page for the Central West in portuguese).

South East - as we go down here, the areas start getting cooler and whiter. The biggest cities of the country are here: São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. White population, as I said before, is strongly concentrated here, because Back In Colonization Days, a lot of europeans (mainly italians and germans i think, although i might be wrong on this one) migrated to there and the South because the climate is more like in Europe than in the northern areas. This is probably what most people think when they say 'Brazil' (that or the amazonic forest, ofc), because media wise, it covers mostly carioca Carnival (Carnival from Rio de Janeiro) or the super urban city of São Paulo. Fun fact: One of the Seven World Wonders, the Christ The Redeemer statue is located there, in the RJ.

South - smallest area in the country. There are literally just three states here. It's also the coolest area out of the five, and there is even snow here! The European heritage is very strong here, also because of the migration from a few centuries ago.

If you want more insight on a certain specific area for your character, I'd be very happy to help! :) I myself am from the North East, so I have the most information about that, tho.

Now about the cultural differences in general.

A few important things that really differ are:

The culinary (depends of the area, though: up north it will have more african and indigenous dishes, down south there will be more european dishes and stuff)

The climate (if your character is from the northern areas, they will have a hard time adapting to any cool areas they might be in now--in the North East we're used to an average 25º C, or 70º F, for example, so if things go cooler they're gonna want to be very warm)

The measurements (celsius degreees vs farhenheit, miles vs kilometers, centimenters vs feet and inches, etc.)

The calendar: In the South Hemisphere, unlike in the North Hemisphere, summer is on the last and first months of the year and winter is in the middle. Basically, the seasons are inverted up there in relation to here

The school year also works a bit differenly, for that matter: Janurary and the first week of February are summer vacations, and then the year starts. A few weeks later, we have a few more weeks off for Carnival, so no school then too, and *then* you could say the year actually starts. In June (winter), we have a 10-day break for São João festivities (at least in the North East because São João is a cultural "festival"--if that's the right word), and then summer break starts around the end of November or the end or December, depending on the exact school.

Oh yeah, and one more big difference your character might find strange assuming they're in the US or a similar country now: In Brazil we have a thing called SUS - the Unique Health System (Sistema Único de Saúde), which is a free health service for everybody, funded by taxes. I heard that in the US all medical care is private, so I wanted to highlight that in Brazil we have free public healthcare and then also the private hospitals, so that could cause some cultural chock, lol

Same thing for college: There are a lot of public universities. There are actually many differences between usamerican and brazilian education system, but the main ones are that.

If you have any further asks, feel free to send them, I'd love to go deeper into one single thing if you want it. Good luck with your oc <2

[goodlucktai]

Didn’t want to overwhelm what I’m sure is a very full inbox, since I’ll admit I have submitted a few requests before — but periodically I can’t pass up the chance when you say they’re still open (pending your whim, of course, as it should be). so anyway. I ADORE your tmnt 2003/2012 crossover where the 12s are looking for their sensei, all from 03s POV. And then I ALSO ADORE the 2012/Rise, from 12Mikey’s POV about Little Blue. So — any chance you fancy a 2003/Rise crossover? Perhaps an 03Leo observation of the absolutely terrifying raw power these bitty baby turtles call ninpo? 03Donnie trying to make sense of RiseMikey yeeting a cargo ship? Rise boys pointing out 03Raph’s accent as the only new yorker? that’s a bunch sorry have a lovely day!

x

It happens on an unremarkable Tuesday night, as they’re heading home from a relatively quiet patrol. Raph is grumbling under his breath because he still has energy to burn, and one tussle with the Dragons was about one-tenth of the outlet he was looking for. 

Mikey’s natural state of being is still-has-energy-to-burn and he walks backwards to make a moue of false sympathy in Raph’s direction.  

“Aww, poor Raphie,” the little menace coos. “We’ll find you another head to knock, I promise.”

“Won’t have to look very far, there’s one right here,” the red-banded turtle growls, and dives after him. Mikey shrieks in combination terror-excitement and darts around the other side of Leo. Leo allows himself to be circled, looking as though he’s ready to go straight to bed when he gets home, where at least he won’t have to deal with any annoying little siblings for the next six solid hours. 

“Hey, um,” Donnie says from somewhere behind them. “Umm, Leo? Guys?”

His tone draws Raph up short. He turns with the long tails of Mikey’s mask still caught in his fist, while Mikey continues to squawk and flail. Leo is already moving out from in between the two of them, abandoning the youngest to his fate and approaching Donatello swiftly. 

He doesn’t even need to ask what caught the genius’ eye. Donnie is staring at a bright point of light above the street. It hovers for a moment and then begins to open wider, warm and yellow and glowing. 

As Raph watches, something falls through. Someone. He barely has a second to make out the vaguely human shape of the body before the mask tails in his hand are yanked away and his smallest brother is racing forward across the rooftop like a bullet. 

Leo makes an aborted move to stop him, but there’s no point. Mikey has always been the fastest of the four and he has always, exclusively, only ever done what he wanted to do. Really, Raph shouldn’t even be surprised. 

Mikey catapults off the parapet, collides with the body before it can fall more than a few feet toward the unforgiving asphalt eight stories below, and brings it safely to the roof of an adjacent building, taking the brunt of the fall in a neat barrel roll. 

“Ugh, he’s gonna be bragging about that catch for weeks,” Raph mutters, keeping pace with Leo as they follow him over. 

Donnie is way ahead of them both, easing the body out of Mikey’s arms by the time the eldest turtles catch up. It’s a green-skinned teenager, with the oh-so-familiar built-in armor of a turtle shell. The red stripes on his face, and yellow ones down his arms and legs, are obscured almost entirely by grisly bruises and a not-insignificant amount of blood. Most tellingly, the kid is wearing a bright blue ninja mask. 

“Oh,” Don says, pausing in opening his medkit. He rubs one hand gently over the little mutant’s bruised forehead. “It’s another Leo.”

It says something about their lives that this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened on a Tuesday. Above them, the portal the kid came through is closing rapidly. The light goes with it, dwindling until it’s gone.

“He’s tiny,” Mikey says, all the joy and irreverence from a few moments ago blown clean out of his expression. Raph doesn’t like to see him look so worried, brow creased beneath his sunny orange mask. “And he’s hurt bad.” 

“What the hell happened to him?” Raph rumbles, arms folded tight across his own plastron. It rankles to see any version of Leonardo injured like this. “And where the hell are his brothers?”

“They can’t be far,” Leo says, because it’s unspoken that where one of them goes, they all go, no matter what backwards dimension they might come from. He kneels next to his younger brothers and looks over his small counterpart with grave eyes. “But there’s no time to wait. He needs stitches at the very least. Donnie, can we move him?”

Donnie finishes packing the sluggishly bleeding gash above the kid’s knee with a temporary bandage and tapes it down, then sets about the rest of his medical examination, brown eyes troubled. 

“There’s a crack in his shell that concerns me,” he says, probing around the kid’s neck with careful fingers. “And he almost definitely sustained some head trauma. I just can’t be certain about a spinal injury. I don’t want to risk permanent damage by manhandling him into the sewers. There’s also—oh.”

Donnie’s hands pause where he’d been feeling down the kid’s right arm. He pulls it out carefully from where it’s sandwiched between the kid’s side and Mikey’s plastron. Raph stoops to get a closer look at whatever got Donnie’s attention and then feels his chest go tight with rage.

They’re chains. Tiny, glowing links of burnished gold, almost translucent, wrapped firmly around the strange mutant’s forearm. And his fist is clenched around what looks like a piece of paper, but the chains are more concerning.

“Hey, uh, what the fuck,” Mikey says loudly. His hands on the kid’s shoulders tighten there protectively. “Can we get those off?”

“Let’s try,” Leo says, his own eyes whited-out and narrowed. He tests the chains with a touch, the way of someone testing the elements on a stove to see if they’re hot. When nothing happens, he grips one of the chain links firmly and begins to pull. 

Raph, Donnie and Mikey all jump at the same time when Leo suddenly yanks his hand away with a hiss.

“What?” Donnie blurts. “What happened? Did it burn you?” 

“No, it—it bit me,” Leo replies, shaking out his hand. 

The golden chains glow a little brighter as the brothers watch, and now there are bright purple sparks trailing warningly up and down the length of them like an electric current. Raph eyes the purple warily. It looks like it bites. 

“Try a knife?” Mikey says, tone upturned at the end because he’s as much out of his depth as the rest of them are. 

Donnie hums, brow wrinkled thoughtfully, and works a kunai out of his belt. He slides the edge under one of the chains without issue, but the moment he starts to apply pressure, the orange glow and purple sparks become limned with red, like some kind of armor. The chains constrict slightly, biting tighter into the kid’s arm. 

Back off, they say, as clearly as anything without a voice ever could. 

“Leave it for now,” Raph says. He won’t say it out loud, aware of how stupid it would sound, but that color combination alone soothes some of the jagged uncertainty he has about this whole situation. “It ain’t like Little Blue’s a prisoner. We can deal with the chains once we’ve dealt with the obviously broken bones.”

Leo nods, on the same page for once. “Can you wake him up, Donnie?” 

“Actually, I have just the thing,” Donnie says, like that’s some big surprise, hauling his satchel around and digging through it for a moment. That thing might as well belong to Mary Poppins, and he proves it nearly every day. Sure enough, Don emerges victorious with a container of tiny capsules. Shaking one out into his palm, he says, “Smelling salts. Sort of. My own spin, anyway. Mike, brace him as best you can, okay?” 

“You got it, Doc,” Mikey says, picking the parts of the kid’s chest and shoulder that look the least beat-to-hell and planting his hands there. 

Donnie snaps the capsule and waves it under Little Blue’s beak. It takes all of three seconds for the kid to give a violent full-body jerk, flailing wildly and going nowhere beneath Mikey’s steady grip. His eyes fly open, a burst of bright gold, and dart around frantically. The left eye is bloodied. Raph can feel his metaphorical hackles going up, because someone obviously beat the shit out of this kid, and he can’t be much older than fifteen. 

“Hey, easy,” Mikey says, in a light, breezy tone, “you’re okay, you’re safe.” 

“Okay, we can knock spinal injuries off the list,” Donnie says. He looks like about a hundred pounds of stress was just lifted off his shoulders. 

Little Blue squints at them, all woozy. When he finally finds Mikey’s face, probably little more than a green and orange blur from his perspective, he relaxes visibly. 

“Dee’s tryin’ to experiment on me again,” he whines. “Make ‘im stop or I’m telling Raph.”

Message delivered, he slumps back into sleep after that—apparently reassured by his present company, looming threat of unwilling experimentation notwithstanding. Donatello looks bewildered, and glances sidelong at Raph. Raph shrugs. Leo huffs out a laugh, sitting back on his heels. 

“I’d know that tone anywhere. If he’s not the youngest, he’s close.”

“He’s just like me for real,” Mikey pipes up, grinning widely. “Home?” 

“Home,” Leo confirms. “Can you carry him?” 

“Uhh, are you kidding? He’s probably about as heavy as a handful of grapes.” 

“We need to be careful with his arm. The, uh, unchained one. It’s broken in a couple of places. And try not to jostle his leg, either. And his shell—”

“Don, we get it,” Raph says, not unkindly. “Fragile, handle with care. Hear that, chucklehead? No razzmatazz.” 

Mikey makes an offended noise and Leo cuts them off at the pass with the grace and finesse of someone who’s been single-handedly dealing with their shit for the better part of twenty years. “Let’s go Mikey. We’ve been out here too long already, and that light-show might have attracted some attention. I’ll call sensei once we start moving and ask him to prepare the infirmary bed for us.”

It’s a group effort to get the kid folded into Mikey’s arms in a manner that doesn’t upset Donnie’s doctoral sensibilities. But he’s such a scrawny stringbean that Mikey carries him with the same level of effort Casey might use to haul around a couple twelve packs of Cherry Coke. 

Little Blue, for his part, only squirms to get comfortable and smushes his cheek against Mikey’s shoulder without waking. He’s clearly used to being hauled around. Raph won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it, but he thinks Leo was probably right. That’s little sibling behavior if Raph’s ever seen it. 

Splinter takes the arrival of a fifth turtle in the lair like a champ. It’ll be a cold day in hell when they manage to surprise their dad for real. His aged brown eyes are gentle as Mikey sets the kid on the cot, and he lingers nearby as Donnie prepares the fiberglass for the arm cast. He’s probably remembering when Fearless was that small. 

Splinter manages to work Blue’s fist free of the paper he was clutching and smooths out the creases. It looks like it might be a photo. Whatever it is, it causes the rat’s eyes to get very old and very sad. He puts it back in the little mutant’s hand and closes his fingers around it again. 

Somehow Little Blue manages to sleep through the stitches and the setting of his broken arm. He doesn’t even stir as he’s tipped onto his side so ointment can be applied to the crack in his shell before the edges are smeared with epoxy and forced back together. 

He could probably use the rest—he looks like he just tumbled out of the end of the world. Donnie isn’t concerned about the prolonged stint of unconsciousness only because the kid was awake for a few minutes and coherent enough to form sentences, as confused as they were. 

The chains have dulled to the barest glow. Every now and then they light up like Christmas, but only for a minute or two. Mikey dubs it “energy-saving mode.” It’s remarkably un-reassuring. 

The whole clan eats dinner in the infirmary in a bunch of mismatched chairs, all of them reluctant to leave the battered child’s side. The second time one of his brothers starts to nod off, Raph makes the executive decision that he’ll take first watch.

Because none of his siblings know how to do anything the easy way, he has to all but run them out at blade-point. 

“I know for a fact that you haven’t slept in three days, Don,” Raph says mercilessly. Donnie withers like a little overwatered plant when sensei’s sharp eyes descend upon him. “And Mikey, you’re barely any better than him. I will gladly throw you under the bus next, try me.”

“And we call Leo the mother hen,” the youngest grumbles, only to squeak and dive behind Leo when Raph advances a single threatening step in his direction.

“C’mon, you two,” Leo says, herding them out. “We can have a sleepover in the den. That way we’ll hear it if Raph calls us.”

It’s an unspoken request for Raph to wake them if anything happens. Raphael salutes him only semi-sarcastically and takes up camp next to the cot. Splinter draws a chair up beside Raph’s, whiskers twitching with amusement as Mikey whines from the living room, “But I won’t even be able to sleep!”

“He’ll be out like a light in twenty,” Raph says dryly.

“Ten, if Donatello puts on “How It’s Made,”” Splinter replies with equal parts exasperation and affection. He puts one clawed hand on Little Blue’s forehead, and goes on, “It was good of you to bring him here.”

Wondering if he’ll ever outgrow the uncomfortable feeling he gets from any sort of praise, Raph spins a sai for something to do with his hands and mutters, “Well, yeah. Us turtles gotta look out for each other. It’s not like the humans are gonna do it.”

Splinter kindly moves on. “The boy’s qi is very bright, for all that something has recently attempted to snuff it out. I can tell he was raised in a home full of love.”

“Someone’s gotta be missin’ him,” Raph agrees. It makes his stomach sink to think of some version of his family missing their Leo. 

Reading Raph’s mind as easily as he always has, the rat transfers his hand to his son’s arm and pats gently. “We will make sure that he finds his way home. Now,” he adds in a brighter tone, “tell me about my two youngest refusing to take proper care of themselves. I need to know how many flips to assign.”

Grinning, Raphael settles in to spend these quiet early morning hours gossiping with his father. 

He must doze off himself at some point, because his senses kick him awake the second before a heavy thud would have. He jumps to his feet, but Splinter raises a hand to calm him.

“Our guest is up,” the rat says mildly. “Collect your brothers.”

Normally, Raph would have something to say about leaving his father alone with a potentially dangerous unknown variable. In this case, he catches sight of two very bright, very frightened gold eyes staring at him from behind the cot, and decides Splinter is probably on the right track. Surprise, surprise. 

So Raphael backs up toward the door, scrutinized every inch of the way. As he’s leaving, he hears the kid say, in a tone that’s aiming for demanding and landing somewhere around plaintive instead, “Who are you? Where’s my dad?” It makes Raph want to hit something. 

His little brothers are fast asleep in a pile on the sofa. Leo is also actually resting for once in his goddamn life in the armchair, curled up with his limbs all folded like a pretzel. The TV is still on, but the volume is turned almost all the way down. Raph makes it a single step into the room before Leo’s eyes slide open, meeting Raph’s unerringly in the low light. 

“He’s up,” Raph says plainly. “And he’s a little freaked out. Kinda got the idea that sensei wants us to make ourselves scarce for a bit.”

Leo nods. With his mask slung around his neck like a bandanna, the worry lines between his eyes are more obvious. 

“Let’s make breakfast,” he decides. “You and I can handle a few omelets.”

Mikey usually takes charge of meals, because the goofball has never really shaken off the idea that he doesn’t contribute as much to the general workings of their family as everyone else does. Which is a fucking joke. They’d probably last all of two days without Michelangelo, and they’d be the most miserable two days known to man. 

So his big brothers make it a point to wrestle control of the kitchen from him every now and then. Meals aren’t as good when anyone else is doing the cooking, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

As Raph is beating a big mixing bowl of eggs together, he blurts, “If you got flung into another dimension, I’d drag your ass back home first thing. You’re not getting out of this shit that easy.”

“Language,” Leo says without looking up from the bell peppers on his cutting board. There’s a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. “And I know you would.”

There’s a thump from the general area of the den—presumably a turtle falling off the sofa—followed by the low tones of Donnie and Mikey arguing sleepily. Raph’s heart does this big warm stretch in his chest as they amble into the kitchen, something he would never in his life admit to out loud. 

Mikey’s mouth is open to protest this shameless coup of his kitchen. Raphael points the whisk at him warningly. 

“One word and I’m tossing onions in here,” he says. “A whole bunch of ‘em.”

It’s as much of a threat as it needs to be. Mikey’s beak wrinkles but he only circles around the table to start the coffee for Don. 

They return to the infirmary armed with plates and drinks. Little Blue is sitting on the edge of the cot, watching them with obvious wariness on his face. When this version of Mikey who isn’t his Mikey approaches him, Blue’s expression does something it hurts to look at. But he musters up a smile anyway and takes the plate and mug he’s offered. 

The plate goes to the side right away. The mug is turned around and around in his hands. It’s a start.

“Um, hi,” he says. His voice is a shock to the system. He sounds like a childhood memory. “I guess introductions would be kind of redundant, huh?” 

Donatello smiles. “That’s right. Do you already have experience with other dimensions?” 

The kid’s hands go white-knuckled around his drink. “Not till recently,” he says woodenly. “And not like this. Donnie loves to talk about the multiverse theory, though. I’m an expert by proxy.”

Raph recognizes it when someone is on the brink of a panic attack and keeping it at bay by the skin of their fucking teeth, and his family sees it, too. He can practically see Leo reshuffling the course of this gentle interrogation, bypassing the obvious next question of “what the hell happened” for something a little safer instead. 

“You were pretty banged up when we found you,” is what he lands on. “Do you feel alright?” 

Leo’s tiny counterpart doesn’t seem to know what to make of him, equal parts awed and troubled. He glances over at Raph quickly, something of a knee-jerk reaction, and his face creases a little when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. His eyes fly to Donnie next, where they only linger for a second before falling to his lap. 

Raph can’t imagine how alone he must feel.

“Think so,” the kid says by way of answer. “I mean, my entire body feels like one big bruise, but I didn’t die. So I’ll take it as a win.” He blinks. “Unless I did die and this is a really weird afterlife. Or my brain is in that pre-death electrical storm and all my cells are depolarizing en masse and this is what it cooked up for me to go out with.” 

Okay, the kid is beginning to sound more like a Donatello than a Leonardo now, but the way his voice is getting tighter and faster is all Mikey when he freaks himself out.

“Hey, hey,” Raph says as he stands, shoving his plate towards Leo blindly and lifting his empty hands. It doubles as a ‘slow down’ gesture, and also as a means to grab Blue if he passes out. “Cool it, kiddo. We’re not a—a brain tsunami or whatever the hell you just said.” 

“That’s probably what a brain tsunami would say,” Blue says faintly. 

Raph takes those few steps to the kid’s side, coming to stand between him and Splinter. He reaches out to tap the bottom of the mug Blue’s strangling. 

“Drink,” he orders. “You’re safe here. If you need someplace to panic, or scream, or throw things, I’ll show you my wreck room. But you’re not allowed to see it at all if you pass out again.”

The kid obediently lifts the mug to his mouth, mumbling a petulant, “Okay, mom.” 

It’s the exact same tone of voice that Raph, Mikey, Donnie and even Casey have used to say those exact same words to Leo. Raph’s shock must show on his face, because Splinter lets out a quiet huff of laughter. Leo’s laugh, somewhere behind them, is louder. 

The miserable expression on Blue’s face clears after the first sip. Leo’s favorite drink when they were little, before he started to abandon childish things and mold himself into the shape of a leader, was strawberry milk. From the way Blue lifts wide gold eyes towards Mikey and holds the mug closer to his center, it’s his favorite, too. And it’s a piece of home he wasn’t expecting to find in this weird place. 

Mikey winks at him and a line of tension in Blue’s shoulders fades away. For the second time since waking up, Blue smiles back. It comes a little easier to him this time. 

Raph isn’t surprised. A Mikey makes everything better. 

“While I can understand why a wave of short-circuiting neurons in your brain might seem like the most logical explanation for this,” Donatello says, which makes goddamn one of them, “I can promise you that this is real. You fell through a portal in Brooklyn.” 

“A portal?” Blue asks. “A yellow one?” 

“Yeah! You remember?” Mikey says brightly. 

“I remember the light,” he replies slowly. He sets his cup down, and his hand drifts over to the crumpled-up photo sitting on the cot beside him. He doesn’t lift it or look at it, he just sets his hand on it, like he’s taking strength from its existence. “It was so dark and cold, and then the sun came out. I think I reached for it. I don’t know how I ended up here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Leo says firmly. “And those chains, too.”

“Chains?” the kid asks. 

“The ones on your arm,” Donnie says. “You don’t feel them?” 

Little Blue looks down at both his casted and his whole arm, frowning. He lifts the whole one closer, turning it, and Raph catches the faint glimmer of those stubborn chains before they explode into burning gold. Blue yelps in surprise, and Raph’s brothers fly to their feet. 

“Did that hurt?” Mikey says all frantic, flapping his hands. 

It’s a fair question. Little Blue’s eyes are still wide and stunned, but now they’re filling rapidly with tears. He touches the chain the same way Leo had, like he’s testing something. It’s on the tip of Raph’s tongue to warn him not to, but it turns out not to be necessary. 

That aggressive show the lights put on for Raph and his siblings is nonexistent. Those purple sparks circle Blue’s fingers harmlessly. The red glow is a steady, unfaltering warmth. The chains themselves cinch tighter, resolute and unbreakable. 

Donnie’s mind is racing behind his brown eyes. He’s putting together what Raph’s heart had already figured out back on that rooftop. 

Wherever one of them goes, they all go. It didn’t make sense to find any version of Leonardo by himself, because his brothers would never have let him go without a fight. The place he belongs to would fight tooth and nail to keep him. 

Sure enough, Little Blue hugs his arm against his plastron and whispers, “Thanks for holding onto me.”

Then he’s in motion. He knocks back the rest of his strawberry milk like he’s a character in a Western film throwing back a shot of rye, crams the photo into the pouch at his waist, and hops off the cot. He staggers immediately, catching himself on the arm of Splinter’s chair. The whole thing is not giving Raph a whole lot of confidence in whatever this kid is planning, but he gets the feeling that trying to stop him now would be like trying to stop a trainwreck with his bare hands.  

Blue points at the butter knife on Leo’s plate, there because he eats his omelets like an old man. 

“Can I borrow that?” 

“Uh, sure,” Leo says, standing up and passing it over. 

“Thanks,” his young counterpart says with a winning smile, just seconds before it lights up in his hands and changes shape. When the bright blue glare fades, there’s a katana in the kid’s hand where a butter knife used to be. 

“What the fuck?” Raph and Mikey shout at the same time, though Mikey’s is more of a delighted shriek. 

Blue is blinking rapidly, like he’s trying to clear his gaze. He’s swaying where he stands, and Splinter’s brow is folded in concern, but before anyone can stop him, he lifts his shiny new sword in front of him and slashes down through empty air. 

Right away, a small cyan portal opens in front of him. It’s charged and electrified, a playful spinning thing. Raph’s heart is racing, and he puts out a hand to keep Mikey firmly behind him. Similarly, Leo has a solid grip on the leather strap across Don’s plastron, because their little brothers are both the same type of idiot in opposite directions when it comes to sparkly unexplainable things. 

Little Blue, for his part, looks disappointed in his portal and in himself, and it bleeds quickly into frustration. “Come on,” he says, shaking the sword in his hand. He forces the portal open a little wider, gaining a few inches in diameter. It’s still not big enough to be anything like a door, or even a window. 

“Your qi is exhausted,” Splinter says gently. “It will take days yet to build it up into even half of what it should be.”

“I don’t want to wait days,” Blue grits out, hand white-knuckled around the hilt. “I want to go home.”

The chains on his arm begin to unravel, elongating impossibly, becoming bigger and denser. Now they more closely resemble the heavy-duty chains Don uses in the garage to lift engines above his head. Two loops remain around his wrist, and the rest of it goes flying into that portal. 

For a moment, nothing happens.

And then, to put it in scientific terms, the portal fucking explodes. 

What started as the size of a dinner plate is now easily big enough for the Battle Shell to barrel through with plenty of clearance on all sides. It stands almost as tall as the ceiling and just as wide. And it barely has a chance to exist in this state for more than a second before multiple bodies come hurtling through from the other side at break-neck speed. 

“LEO!” three young voices scream, and Little Blue drops his sword to meet the chaos with open arms. 

“Took you long enough,” he says warmly.