#Which is the one I'm working on rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hallowbees · 7 months ago

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good evening rottmnt community. so i haven't written fanfic in almost a decade, but whilst taking a break from working on a rottmnt fanfic, i have written... another rottmnt fanfic. i wanted to play around with different povs and tenses than i usually use, and decided to use casey jr and the future timeline to try it out - it was super fun to write, so i thought why not share it!!

you're a lifesaver, casey jones

fives times casey jones junior saves the resistance, and the one time it doesn’t feel like a victory

five months old

You’re only five months old when you save the resistance for the first time. You’re so young.

The shattered remains of a home cradle you, muscle memory from the years of keeping a family long gone safe and warm, and even if you can feel the wind as it whistles through the cracks in the bricks and the sky looms red, enemy drones and rubble floating above you like a cot mobile, you don’t cry. Your little life has already taught you the harshest lesson of the apocalypse, and it’s not that crying won’t get you anywhere; crying will get you somewhere alright, six feet deep in a grave if the wrong ones hear you. Of course you don’t actually know that, not in that way at least, but you do know crying only ever wears you out. Tough lesson to learn, ain't it kid, but you learnt it well. You might just make it yet.

There’s no telling how long you’ve been here- could have been five minutes, could have been forever, it's all the same to you. It’s unlikely that there are any coherent thoughts rattling around in that little brain of yours yet, but if so, they might sound something like this; I miss you, I miss you, where did you go? I’m hungry, it hurts, I miss you. Where did everyone go? I miss you. The same thoughts plague most brains these days, everyone’s got a ‘you’ to miss. We’ll all be ‘you’ someday, if we’re lucky. God, this is all quite morbid isn’t it, little one? It’s okay, though. Remember, this is a story about how you save them. It’s a happy story, you’ll get your happily ever after, even if they don’t all live.

She looks a lot like you, strangely. It’s something about the eyes, dark and strong, and the general aura of defiance. Maybe that’s why she finds you first, she feels a kinship in your ‘warrior spirit’, as she calls it, ‘a true fighter’, she calls you. ‘They are a baby, babies cannot fight. Primarily because they are still in the very early stages of fine motor skills development and cannot wield weapons yet, amongst other reasons.’ another voice says, but he doesn’t know just how hard you already have fought, will fight still. You’re there, and that is everything these days. She comes to your defence, proclaiming you ‘the strongest fighter of the resistance’, and ‘silence, purple one!’. You can’t tell that the second shout isn’t aimed at you, but what you can tell is that it's warm in her arms and now you only see her and not the broken sky above you. It’s not ‘you’, and you’re still not sure where everyone went, but this still feels comfortable. This feels like home, you think.

That’s the moment you break, and the tears start. You cry, and you cry, and you are surrounded by her. Her voice is low now, a tone rusty in use but so sure of itself as she tells you that you’re okay, you’re safe, she’s got you. ‘Poor thing, they must be so scared.’ comes a new voice, and there's a blur of orange (once you figure out what orange is, it’ll become your favourite colour, one of four favourites) over her shoulder. ‘Ain’t we all.’ comes a low rumble from behind. ‘They won’t be anymore. We’ve got them now.’ she says, and that’s how you meet your strange little family. Some of it, that is - there are more, an aunt and a grandfather or two, so many people ready to love you.

She doesn’t just give you a name, she gives you hers. You’re Casey Jones Junior, a reminder that something always comes after. You don’t know yet how badly Casey Jones Senior had needed that reminder - she’s spent her whole life in pursuit of what’s next, in hopes that its greater than what’s now (a promotion, a resurrection, a fabled leader) and despair that it never is (better luck next time recruit, they could do it all without her, she breaks the chains that spell his downfall herself). When she finds the apocalypse next, she starts to think that maybe nothing next would be quite alright, but then there’s you and for the first time she truly feels like she’s on the right track.

She carries you home, her family around her and in her arms, and Casey Jones Senior resolves to keep fighting another day.

four years old

In your defence, such a sharp weapon should have never been left in your curious reach. In his, there's so much to keep on top of when you’re spearheading a resistance that if a sai or two get misplaced in the process, can anyone really blame him? Your hand is being patched up as he is berated once again, because ‘you know that weapons stay on you at all times, Raph’, and ‘why are they even sharp? Aren’t sai meant to be blunt?’. He groans out something about being a stupid teenager once upon a time, wondering what would happen if he sharpened his weapon the same way his brother did his swords, much out of the same curiosity that got you into this very predicament. He sounds like he might cry, but you can’t work out why. It’s your palm that's bleeding, and you didn’t even make a peep. That might have been the problem, though - no one noticed until your blood was smeared across the floor and that’s a sight no one can stomach. You were scooped up quickly, and he looks haunted. ‘He’ could have been anyone in the room.

“Raph’s sorry, lil’ guy.”. He’s gentle, so gentle, as he kneels before you and takes your bandaged hand. “I promise I won’t leave ‘em out again like that.”. There’s no promise that you won’t get hurt again, because no one likes to break a promise, but the way he smiles at you, still so gentle, makes all the pain go away.

“Can I hold ‘em again when I’m bigger please?” you ask, and of course you can’t see it but there’s a little sparkle in your eyes as you look up at him, glimmering like the stars that are still above you even if you can’t see them anymore, in the sky that no longer belongs to Earth. Let's look on the bright side though; it could still be ours again someday.

“Um… if your Mom says you can, then sure thing, buddy. But only when you’re older.”. Your mom will say yes, she always says yes because there is nothing that a Jones cannot do, so you cheer and throw your tiny little arms around his far bigger neck. You can’t hold all of him, so you just squeeze extra tight so he still feels the love all over. A hand comes to pat you on the back, and you certainly feel loved in his hold.

“Why’d you want to hold ‘em so bad anyways, bud?” he asks, and you grin. It’s big and toothy, with a little gap right at the front where you lost your first tooth, and thank god that you lost it in the natural way, and not the way most people lose teeth these days.

“I wanna be just like Uncle Raphie!”. He melts, and the tears are back. Rather than wipe them away though, he just squeezes you closer.

It’s one of the last memories you’ll get of Raphael, so please hold onto it. Hold onto it just as tight as you held onto his neck that day, held him long enough for the blood to seep through your bandages and make its mark on his skin.

…

Well, anyways - there’s a conversation later that night that you’re not privy to. You’re probably fast asleep by your mother’s side when the clock strikes this antisocial hour.

“He’s so little. Too little. Casey shouldn’t be even thinking about holding weapons yet.”.

Yet, yet, yet, it’s always yet. Weaponry is waiting for you in the future, and no one can lie, there are keen eyes on you as you play around the resistance base, to spot any signs of affinity for particular weapon types and fighting styles (you’re fast, get up close and personal, and there will be a brute force behind your hits if you really want there to be - someone offhandedly mentions hockey and the blueprints are already being drawn up).

“Maybe it would be better to start him young. It is inevitable, after all.”. That’s probably the toughest pill for them to swallow, that when you grow up (if, if you grow up - that would be even harder to choke down if they would let themselves even consider it) you’ll be thrown to the front lines.

But hey - we’re looking on the bright side, remember?

“C’mon guys, enough with the doom and gloom! Think of it this way - at least there will be someone to keep on fighting after us. And he’s going to be far more prepared than we ever could have been. Seriously, he’s like, the apocalypse nepo baby.”. You’d be shocked by how funny the apocalypse could be sometimes. It has to be, because if you don’t laugh you’ll cry, and you already know where crying gets you. It’s not the best joke, but it gets a snort from someone. “He’s got no choice but to succeed. I’m calling it now, Casey’s gonna be the one to end this someday. ”

“S’not much of a bright side. He’ll still have to fight.”.

“Chin up, big guy. Look at what we’ve achieved already. The kind of things Casey’s going to do with all of us behind him? It’s looking pretty bright to me.”. It goes unsaid that most of them probably won’t be there to see it, but it’s enough for now. The thought of you seeing the other side of this war, even if you have to fight for it tooth and nail, it’s enough to let Raph truly think about what the end of the apocalypse could look like for the very first time since Hell arrived on earth. He thinks of the stars, how they’re still shining brightly and how we will see them again. He can even see a small smattering of them in the bleeding sky when he lays dying a few days later, and his final thought is that maybe we’re already starting to turn the tides.

seven years old

Most people will probably tell you that celebrating a birthday is a waste of time, resources, and energy. The most cynical of the bunch would probably tell you that we don’t actually know when your birthday is, so why are you so confident that it’s today? But, and please don’t repeat this language, fuck them - you’re seven years old, and isn’t that just incredible? You feel like the luckiest seven year old in the entire resistance (you’re only one of three in this branch, and Laura’s leg got broken yesterday, so your competition isn’t exactly tough) when your culinary wizard of an uncle manages to scrape together some sort of cake. The adults around you grimace a little when they bite into it (culinary wizard he may be, but there’s only so much magic can do), but you think it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It’s dry, and sticks to the roof of your mouth, and you’d hesitate to call it chocolate, but you go in for a second helping, and no one stops you because it’s your birthday! There’s more than enough to go around; your family has gotten a little bit smaller, after all. They’re never truly gone though, because you can always see his red bandana, and you’ll always share your name with her. You don’t really remember anything more than a grey blur, but your grandfather’s famous battle cry continues to echo across the frontlines. You make sure to enjoy your second helping even more than the first, just for them.

There is one slice of cake left, and it has no business sitting on the plate looking all lonely like that. You’re not sure exactly why he didn’t show up this time, but you’re not going to let your special day pass by without seeing him. It may be your day, but the things that make you happy are so much sweeter when you share them; you think it might be because you love your family’s smiles more than anything else in the whole entire world. Pushing yourself up from the comfortable pile of mostly everyone you love on the floor (if some missions had been shifted around to make sure everyone could be here for you today, then no one was going to complain), you pick up the plate and go to find the missing piece of your family’s jigsaw puzzle.

“Where are you taking that, Case? Trying to sneak a third helping?”. Voices are light, and maybe it’s the most at ease you’ve ever seen your family. Today really is special.

“Nope, it’s Uncle Donnie’s and he’s gotta eat it today because tomorrow it’s just cake and that's much less exciting than birthday cake.”. You’re on a mission, just like the ones your uncles and aunt go on, ones you can’t wait to join them on someday, because you don’t want to be anything other than just like them when you finally grow up. Your aunt has even begun teaching you how to fight, and she always tells you what a natural you are (she feels so guilty about it, because it would be so much easier if you weren’t going to be such a powerhouse on the battlefield; there would maybe be cause to clutch you close to her chest and never let you go otherwise).

You might hear what’s said as you leave. “Casey, buddy, maybe you shouldn’t…”. You don’t let it deter you, even if you do.

“Nah, I say let him try. Maybe he’ll finally get through to that brilliantly dumb brain of his.”.

You guard the cake with your life as you run to the lab, because you can’t possibly wait a second longer to see him. This is the one thing that could make your day go from amazing to perfect. Call it your birthday wish, even if you didn’t have a candle to blow out.

You’re not actually sure when you last saw your uncle beyond a fleeting flash of purple at breakfast time, and that one night last week you had a standoff in the corridor at 3am, because you had a nightmare and wanted your Uncle Mikey, and he needed more coffee (if it was just a bit lighter, you’d have seen his damp eyes, and maybe would have figured out that he needed to seek out his brothers just as much as you). You know when you’re going to see him next, though - in about 30 seconds, because you’re standing in front of his door.

Knock, knock, knock. There isn’t a pattern, you just bang on the door with one hand, careful to balance the plate on your other. Bang, bang, bang. You’re greeted with the rhythmic bang of a hammer in response - or at least you think at first, it doesn’t take much waiting to realise that he probably hasn’t heard you.

Knock, knock, knock. “Uncle Donnie! I have something for you!” you shout, right at the top of your lungs. Bang, bang - “Just leave it outside the door, I’ll get it later.” - bang.

Well, in that case - you sit down, cross legged and leaning against the door. Because sure, you’re bringing him the cake, but you’re really here because you miss him, and just want a little bit of his time. You think that sounds like a fair exchange; he gets a slice of your best birthday cake ever, and you get five minutes with your beloved uncle. Neither of those come around that often, so you should both make the most of it.

He must have underestimated your attention span, because he has the audacity to look shocked that you’re still there when he opens the door and you fall backwards into the lab with a shout of surprise. It’s only been 20 minutes; you’d wait so much longer than that for him. Miraculously, even in your speedy venture to the floor, the cake is still sitting neatly on its plate, and you hold it up with a wide grin. “I got you cake!”.

A million miles an hour is probably a gross underestimation of how fast your uncle’s brain goes at any given moment, for better or worse. The look on his face suggests that for a moment, his thoughts are speeding even by his standards, and then they promptly smash into a brick wall. You can tell by the way his eyes get a little bit too wide, and his mouth falls open a little - it’s an expression you only see in the rare moments he feels like he’s failed, although all you can see is a success - because there he is! You’re still grinning up at him from the floor, even if your arms are starting to shake from holding the plate up. He shakes away the expression, and quickly takes the plate from you. Only to swiftly discard it on a nearby workbench though, in favour of kneeling down and leaning over to look at your blinding grin.

“Casey… is it today?” he asks, still a little too wide eyed. You giggle a little, because what else would it be, tomorrow? He does genuinely look lost though, so you nod. It’s rare that you know something that he doesn’t, but even if it might feel cool to outsmart the smartest person you know, you fill him in. “Yeah, it’s today! And it’s also my birthday.”. He’s quiet for a moment, teeth worrying his lips as his eyes flick away from your face. “And I’m seven.”.

“Not until 6:47pm.” he says, almost automatically. Once he realises what he’s said, his panicked eyes flick to the screen on his wrist, and you think he’s checking the time.

“You haven’t missed it! I made sure to keep looking at the hands on the clock so I could come and see you before you miss it.”. It’s the time that the scouting-turned-rescue mission seven years ago got back to the base, and an official mission report was made. ‘Baby boy, approximately 5 months old, found in rubble. No others found in immediate vicinity.’, submitted at 6:47pm. It’s never bothered you that it’s not the exact day or moment you were born, it’s the exact day and time your family became just that, and that's what really matters to you. None of your uncles know the exact time and day they were born either (the debate of who’s older still rages on till this day, not even the end of the world can put that argument to rest), so it means you’re just like them. You still can’t imagine wanting to be anything else.

“Okay.”. He stands up, and offers you a hand. You take it, giggling as he pulls you up a little bit too far and your legs dangle. You kick them for a second, before he notices and puts you back firmly on solid ground. “I have two forks.”.

You sit in the bean bags he has stashed in the corner of the lab, and the two of you share the last slice of birthday cake. He struggles more than the others to hide his distaste for it, but you think it tastes the best it has yet. The lab door has been left open, and you know that it’s not by mistake, because it could have been shut with a quick tap of a screen, but it stays wide open as the rest of your family files in. You’re all slotted together perfectly when the clock strikes 6:47pm, and you hear your Uncle Donnie sing the loudest as your family wishes you a happy birthday. You think it’s because you’re sitting closest to him, but everyone else can see the way his chest expands as he takes deep breaths, putting his all into his well wishes.

It was easy for him to forget that life isn’t over yet, even if what he’s been burdened with is creating and creating until he has something that will prolong it just that little bit longer. Amidst the cheers of ‘hip hip hooray’, he remembers that moments like this are exactly what he’s toiling away in the lab for. They haven��t gone anywhere yet though, and he doesn’t want to let even a single second of it pass him by again. Donnie actually smiles for once, because you are seven years old now and that really is something incredible. You see him everyday at breakfast after that, with actual food rather than just a mug, and he always has a fork for you.

eleven years old

You’re just about in the double digits the first time you actually realise that you’ve saved the resistance. It happens so quickly - you’re still not old enough to be out on the field, but it’s all hands on deck when the krang brings the fight to your front door. Maybe don’t say this to anyone else, but you sort of think that it makes your age a moot point - if you can fight like hell when the hallways are caving in and there's pink, pink, pink everywhere, then surely you can join simple scouting missions? No one quite understands why you’re so eager to be out there on the field, and maybe you don’t fully understand either (you definitely don't understand just how dire it is out there, they’ve done a good job of keeping that from you so far), but you know that it’s what you want. It’s what all of your heroes do, after all. You know for a fact that your uncles wanted to be just like their own heroes when they grew up, and now that you’re finally getting taller and your arms are starting to gain a little muscle, why can’t you follow in their footsteps? The only difference is that their heroes were on the TV screen. You’re lucky enough to see yours in the flesh every single day. Two of them, at least. Purple now flutters alongside the fraying red.

At first, it’s no different from all of the other hounds. It’s gross and dripping, what you think must be teeth gnashing and shockingly red. You’re not stupid, you know that it can’t be krang blood, you don’t think they even have it, but nothing can deter you from swinging your hockey stick right into its side (and you know you could do so much more than just crack it’s bones into tiny little pieces if someone finally listened to you and removed the child lock that Donnie was forced to add), sending it flying sideways. A little blood never bothered you, and it’s a good job, because you’re covered in it. Some of it might be your own, but there’s so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that pain doesn’t even stand a chance at stopping you. You feel so alive as you wipe some of that blood from your face (definitely not your own, you’d know if you had a head wound), but your heart stops as you see what was laid beneath the hound.

It’s your aunt, or what might be left of her - you can’t tell if her chest is still rising and falling or not. She’s teetering on the edge of just being another body in the makeshift morgue, which you know is nearing full already. Your body wants to freeze, your tears want to fall, your voice wants to scream, but listen, here’s what you do instead: drop to your knees, bring your ear right up to her mouth to here those wheezing, determined breaths, then immediately pull the hoodie over your head to first clear enough blood to find the wound, and second put pressure on it as you scream out for help. You’ve got this. You’re doing so well, kid. Just remember to take a few breaths of your own in the middle of all of this chaos.

Help doesn’t come, but another hound does. You don’t let it get close, as you put those little muscles to use and scoop her up. This one won’t get to her. It snarls at you, and you snarl back, flashing your matching bloody teeth. You turn and run before it can even think about pouncing, and even though she’s heavy, you’re still fast as you jump over rubble and dodge bodies you don’t have time to think about trying to save.

The medbay is still standing, proving that the decision to make it the most out of the way and difficult to reach location in the base was at least somewhat strategic. The krang hasn’t reached it, and based on the mutters of ‘code green’ and ‘it’s over’, they won’t this time. It’s still yet, yet, yet, as you know, but it’s not now so you shove your aunt onto a bed and don’t even wait for an adult to start grabbing bandages and needles. They do still take over eventually, because it doesn’t matter that you just saved Commander O’Neil’s life - you are still just a child. Just barely in the double digits. Hopefully one day you’ll realise this was never an insult, instead it was maybe the greatest display of love they could give you. No one escapes the apocalypse, but they still tried to give you routes out of it. The corridors are all collapsed now though, and you grip your hockey stick tight in your blood-slicked grasp as you watch your aunt be pulled back together into one piece.

April’s probably the one person in the resistance whose resolve has never shaken, but that’s not to say it can’t still be strengthened. When she wakes to see your bloodstained hoodie discarded by the cot she’s found herself on, she’ll of course panic for a second. Thankfully, someone will quickly fill her in, tell her that the blood is her own, and the unbelievable story of the little child who dragged her from the jaws of the hounds. She’ll believe it though, because for starters, you're a Jones, and a Jones can do anything, of course. You’re also a Hamato, and if there’s one thing Hamato can’t do, it’s leave family behind. This spells the start of your official tenure as a resistance fighter, because your age is something you’ll outgrow, but your fighting spirit is something you will not.

It might also have something to do with the fact that much of the resistance lay dead all around you, their blood still clinging to your skin, but what do we always say? Look on the bright side. Stars are still shining, buddy. Time to join your heroes in taking them back.

fourteen years old

You don’t even have to do anything this time. You’re off somewhere with your aunt, maybe training, maybe laughing, ideally both.

The way you save the resistance this time looks something like this: sparks of molten magic, and a pull he’s never felt before. He can’t deny it, it does feel like hope, but hurts like hell as it starts to crackle up his arms. He’s swiftly stopped, not by his own will, but he’s grateful when the fire splitting him apart fizzles out. It’s very quiet in the aftermath, because they know what this means. It means it’s possible. It means it's going to cost everything.

They decide that it would be worth it though, if it gave you a chance. There’s no one else they believe in more than you. It’s been said for years, as far back as the days where the only time you shed blood was when you mishandled sai that now just sit and collect dust; you’re gonna be the one to end this someday.

That day should be far off in the future though, when they’ve had time to give you the mission brief, hand over the supplies, and give you a tight hug, not goodbye but good luck. There isn’t really a point dwelling on it now. Mikey just smiles as he tugs the bandages tighter around his arms, and relishes in the fact that they finally have a plan B that might just work out this time. It helps to reignite the optimistic fire he was reluctant to tell anyone was starting to burn out.

+1. sixteen years old

You’re only sixteen years old when you save the resistance for the last time. You’re so young. I think it might really be the end this time, kiddo.

You don’t even flinch when I bleed on you, you just tell me that you’ve got me, just as I had you all those time you scraped your knee or bruised your elbow. Not to be arrogant, but you said it yourself - you learned from the best. Sorry. I know it’s not about me, but there’s very little left these days to focus on. Let’s keep the attention on you though, because you’re about to finally save the resistance once and for all.

All that needs to be said is ‘hope’, and Mikey knows it’s time for plan B. There’s no time for anything we’d planned, no explanation, no hugs goodbye or good luck, but the belief in you never wavers. Not for a second. You’re Casey Jones-Hamato Junior, remember? There’s nothing you can’t do, except leave your family behind. I won’t say that out loud, because you’ll argue that you are in fact leaving me and Mikey behind. Technically, I’d argue you’re leaving us ahead, because soon we’ll be the future. Again, I won’t say that, because if my last words are going to be a joke, I at least want it to be a good one. What you’re doing, in actual fact, is giving us a second chance. I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll find us back there. Our sky may now be lost, but they’ll take you to the highest rooftop and show you every single shimmering constellation and you’ll finally know an Earth that firmly belongs to us. Oh buddy, you’re going to love it.

The last I see of you, you’re crying. It’s one of the first things I saw you do, and now it’s the last. That first time all those sixteen years ago, I think you only started crying because you knew it was finally safe to call attention to yourself as Casey held you in surprisingly gentle but strong arms. Now, I can’t kid myself, I know it’s because you’re scared, and I’m sorry. But hey, you know how I like to look on the bright side - at least the last you see of me, I’m smiling.

I hope that’s the last you see, at least, I know it won’t be long as a hound throws itself at me. There’s only one thing on my mind now, and it’s that you really are gonna do it. You’re gonna be the one to end this today.

I’m real proud of-

#oh man its kinda terrifying sharing this but also i miss creating things for the things i love and its so exciting that i'm feeling so #inspired rn!!!!#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #casey jones jr #rise leo #rottmnt fanfiction #ellie makes post #i've posted on ao3 too which again terrifying but i'm determined to share this big one i'm working on too #this is me working up to sharing that one ig

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