#divergence: it's so bad

[chiakery]

Thinking about yesterday's Divergence episode, specifically the moment with the little boy pouring wine over his stabbed hand.

Did he do that because he had already suffered many wounds in his short life and knew how it went, that you don't want to get it infected?

Did he do that to feel even more pain, because that's something celebrated in his home? Because pain followed by even more pain is his reality? (Iirc, his father's title was Aching Prince, wasn't it?)

Did he do that because he wanted to reject the prisoner's pity and help? When he was seeking Fiedra's eyes, are we sure he was asking for help instead of watching her reaction? Maybe he was, but this small act of kindness confused him. Maybe he was so thoroughly indoctrinated into thinking he deserved all the pain and punishment that he couldn't accept it. Maybe he feared his parents noticing.

[laikabu]

transhet t4t AU sorry im just playing w my touys in my dollhouse pls don’t get mad at me look away if you dont like

[leol]

logan 2017 movie canon divergent au kinda.. kurt deus ex machina, everybody lives, happy family = profit

[gothamite-rambler]

Talia walked over to Damian, her expression a mix of playful reprimand and maternal affection. After a brief pause, a smile broke on her face as she scooped up her ten-year-old son, wrapping him in a warm embrace and showering him with kisses. Damian barely had time to react before he found himself trapped in his mother’s affectionate onslaught, overwhelmed by the scent of her strong perfume.

Damian (embarrassed): I’d rather be stuck in an elevator with Clayface than deal with this… this is my life now. Why is she so smothering?

Talia (ignoring her son's complaining): Shush, let me love you, my sweet tifl! I haven't seen you in three months and this is me being better then my awful, awful, awful father.

Ra's Al Ghul (smoking from a cigarette): I am the reason you stopped being insane after what Nyssa put you through, but sure put the blame all on me.

Damian thrashed his legs in a vain attempt to escape while reaching out to his grandfather for help.

Damian (begging): Grandpa, help!

Ra's Al Ghul: Nope. She once kicked me in the crotch with a heel when I tried to scold her parenting. Bruce, you wanna give it a shot?

Bruce simply walked away, not saying a word. Faced with the relentless affection of his mother, Damian groaned as Talia continued to shower him with kisses.

Talia: You should be happy to have such a strong, powerful, highly skilled, and sweet woman as your momma!

Damian let out a dramatic whine, but he resigned himself to her embrace, knowing this was just part of being her son. For now, he was at her mercy.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[feroluce]

Me: I wonder what Hook calls Sampo in the Japanese dub? Probably oji-san, since it's shushu in the original Chinese?

Hook: Sampo-ojichan!!

Oji is "uncle," which is hilarious because Hook calls Natasha by "older sister" when she wants something. So Hook either just really wants to get on Natasha's good side, or she takes Sampo at face value when he refers to himself as an old man. She trusts him a lot and takes him at his word and she calls him as such!

And Sampo calls Hook either ojou-san or oujo-san (I can't find the Japanese sub to see the spelling, and I can't tell them apart by ear)!

One spelling, oujo, means "princess," it's how you would refer to royalty. The other, ojou, (which I assume is what he's actually saying) is something you call the young lady of a high-class family with a high social standing. In Genshin Impact, the intro scene for a popular ship, chilumi, shows Childe calling Lumine ojou-chan, which the English dub translated as "girlie." Since Sampo uses -san instead of -chan, his is more formal and respectful, it's more like "young lady."

...It's also how you would refer to the daughter of a yakuza leader, which I love, since Hook leads her own little gang (the Moles) skzhkskdkd

But it really gets me in the heart, because! Hook is generally looked at as a delinquent by most adults. Which I mean. Not without good reason, she

calls Natasha an old witch

frequently sneaks out into the Fragmentum

has left graffiti all over the side of the orphanage

was constantly picking fights with other kids

beat a man unconscious for stealing from her dad

and has already picked up on how business gets done in the Underworld, and uses/actively participates in it to get what she wants- she basically acts an information broker

like Hook earns her reputation haha. The Underground is lucky that what Hook wants is just like. Candy and toys and to play hide-and-seek. I'm sure she'll have the capability to raise all kinds of hell and be more like an actual gang leader when she's older, even if she chooses not to act on it.

So Sampo calling her so politely and respectfully is really sweet and cute! Yes, he's polite and respectful with everyone, but that's just it- he treats Hook much like he does everyone else. He doesn't tell her to buzz off because she's a kid. He doesn't lie or try to cheat her or assume she's naive because of her age. He never talks down to her. He really does just treat her like a respected business partner and he takes her seriously, which Hook really seems to appreciate. And even when Sampo does treat her like a kid, it's not in a negative way; he guides her on little adventures and chats with her and takes her for joy rides on his moped. All of which Hook also really appreciates, since everyone else is too busy trying to get by to make time to play with her. She absolutely adores him.

I hope they officially join forces someday and terrorize all of Belobog with their shenanigans JSKJZNDKSJ

So Hook calls Sampo "Uncle Sampo" in a particularly affectionate/endeared tone, and Sampo calls Hook "Young Miss Hook" in a very respectful tone! And to reiterate:

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

I think I'm falling in love with you. 

Those words slam into his chest like an iron, not hot with lust or heavy with fear, but with the warmth of love, as if Fadel's heart was finally answering his in kind.

Because he knows now, that feeling he had tried to ignore, the feeling that has been slowly wrapping around him like a vice. This feeling that has taken over his every waking moment for the last two weeks. It's love that made him ache with longing, that had his insides twisted with worry when he'd been unable to contact him.

It's love that led him here tonight, because even though he'd promised Kant that he'd let it go, that he'd let Fadel go….he couldn't. 

He'd shown up to the diner every day since the failed take down. He just couldn't stay away, not if there was a chance he'd return. He didn't care about his promise with his best friend, because he couldn't overwrite the promise he'd made with his own heart. 

That if Fadel came back….he’d do what he attempted to do a week ago, when he had so desperately tried to get Fadel to let him in, to show him that Style is here to stay, that he accepts him, all of him. Not just the smiles or his quiet, sweet caring side, but the scars and filth and blood…Style would take it all. 

Despite the voice in his head, the one that sounds like Kant, telling him over and over that this isn't a good idea. That Fadel is a killer. That he is dangerous, and no matter what happens, this only ends in heartbreak. Despite all of that…

He can't give Fadel up. 

Because he loves him…

And because he loves him, because he came back. Style needs to fulfill that promise he'd made with himself.  

He needs to warn him. He needs to tell him to run, as much as the thought of that makes his chest want to concave…

Fadel kisses him and pulls him closer. He wraps his arms around him, leading him in a slow dance as the music swells around them. 

Fadel is holding him as tightly as Style had wanted to the night before it all fell apart.

And Style…

He knows it's time. It's now or never.

He needs to tell him the truth.

(Sneak peak of some FadelStyle episode 6 Canon divergent oneshot)

[doshi-sukiru]

Divergent au

Yeah..so I made a new au so here we go-

Part 2!

this one I don't think I'll make a fic out of, mainly because I'm already trying to get back to my shadowpeach one (I have NOT forgotten, uni is just a bitch and for some reason I'm procrastinating too much which is scaring me but I can't stop it it's awful-)

So, this was something @/angstychilz and I discussed one day in our megop server and it was basically "what if Megatron and a few other decepticons got captured by the Quintessons while they were on the surface?"

And of course I'm in a chokehold so now you're forced to deal with this horrifying au I twisted with my knowledge of sci-fi / doctor horror.

**TW!! I might get a bit graphic with some details so please tread carefully! I don't want to scare any of you with what I have for this au, it is disturbing in some areas**

So, to start, I've considered that for now, Megatron, Soundwave, and Blitzwing would all be taken by the quintessons to be experimented on, mainly to help the quintessons understand their anatomy and to use it to their advantage in order to help conquer Cybertron (suggestions for other bots to be taken and experimented on is welcome!)

Of course, it is considered that they are different species, and in a way I believe that the quints would see cybtronian's as lesser beings (especially seeing how they managed to persuade sentinel easily with the idea of having more power in return for killing the primes and providing them with energon). This would play a big part during their experimentations, especially with Megatron because he carries a Prime's cog, that too Megatronus's, who was definitely one of their biggest enemies.

Megs and the others are kept with other mechs, some dead some alive, and they all go through terrible transformations (I'm still deciding how to ruin blitz, especially with his split personality).

I'll just summarize how Soundwave's transformation becomes bc it's really easy- he just goes from tfone sound to tfp sound (angsty's idea), since he has moveable cables similar to the quint's tentacles. He is still in control of his body and mind, and even holds conversations with Megatron to give him some sense of normality between them, but will black out whenever the quints need him to go scout on cybertron to avoid autobot patrols and seek out new victims.

Megatron's treatment I have more detail on (and why wouldn't I, he's my comfort character I need to detail his agony-). There is no anesthesia, Megatron is staying awake as they tear through his chassis and tear out the cog, forcing him to go back to his cogless form. I will also add that before he was taken, he also lost his right arm in the fight before capture, so he's dealing with two types of pain.

Through that the quints learn that mech body's can shift, so while Megs is sent to recover with the other bots they grab some poor mech and experiment with their cog, and they take their time just experimenting on how to make a cog of their own. This also includes them doing several types of dissections on a lot of mechs, pulling and twisting wires, tearing apart limbs and then forcing them to reconnect after forcing the mechs to transform. Keep in mind none of them are under anesthesia, so it's like an old victorian surgery, you're awake and watching a bunch of aliens piercing through you, dismembering you and forcing you to stay still as they go through your systems and organ parts, and even through your spark (guess how you think they learned that was what kept them alive).

Through all that, once they get some form of a twisted, functional cog that mimics an original one, they immediately do everything they did to those mechs to megatron.

By then, he's no longer filled with rage, but fear. Indescribable fear of whether or not he'd survive this. He was a miner once, and while he had his moments he was always assured by Orion he'd be fine and he'd be safe. Orion's not here anymore, and most of the time Sound isn't either, so he's stuck spiraling in fear.

Obviously he's more resistant against them, but he can't fight them anymore. At the same, his helm is forced open, leaving his core processor open for them to dig in and used what memories he has to twist him into a more submissive mech, especially his momentary regret that he got when he shot Orion, and later after dropping him to die. He's forced to endure several procedures, most that left him bleeding out or vomiting blood to the point of exhaustion, and waking up in a tank only to be pulled and put through it again. And again. And again. And again.

Until- they get it right. Now, he looks like a normal mech, similar frame and shape, but with changes. His frame color no longer is a silver/grey hue, it's green with how often he's kept in the dirty cells or in the tanks. His arm got replaced, but with a quintesson-like arm. His voicebox is damaged from the constant tests, so he speaks very little before his voice gets glitchy and incomprehensible.

His body, while accepts the cog and gives him a new alt (flier), will still reject it after a long period of time (consider it between every 8-10 orbital cycles/months), which causes internal bleeding and erratic movement from his body, often times leaving him disfigured and in agony when it occurs. This can range from his body trying to transform mid-form into his alt, to whole on twisting his limbs, or both.

I'll open my inbox for you guys again for this au, I'll do a part 2 for orion's part. But yeah, here's my twisted horror au that I keep a latch on. hahaha-

Bonus art!

[gorgynei]

"can you be disappointed in something you believe in? or is that a contradiction?" dude..

[quipxotic]

Brennan: As you get to the child's plate, you hear - and this kid is maybe nine or ten years old. You hear a little raspy voice go, 'It's okay, I wouldn't want to help me either.'

Yikes! Yikes on bikes! What do you even say to that?

[goatyuuji]

Scrolling through itafushi top 10 tags on ao3...tears in my eyes I love them so much

[gothamite-rambler]

Old stories of Jason babysitting little Damian (4 y.o.)

Jason rested in the guest bedroom, exhausted from the flight to Ra's castle. A young toddler, Damian, climbed up on the bed and crawled next to Jason.

Damian (yawning): Naps!

Jason smiled, not wanting to argue with the kid, and put his arm around the toddler's shoulders.

Talia: Jason, have you seen—

Talia entered the room, finding the two sleeping. She smiled at the sight and quietly closed the door to give them some time to nap. Placing a hand on her heart, she whispered to herself.

Talia: He's... he's a good brother to him. Hm, I'm going to have to mock my father about me being the better parent.

[cogentranting]

The Hunger Games succeeds (and more so achieves sort of mythic effect) because it approaches dystopia through the timeless-- it (and Ballad) brings these universal ideas to a very personal lens and asks questions like "how do we begin to excuse evil in our lives" or "how do you hold on to goodness in the midst of oppression". And because it is so invested in the transcendent it lends itself to very powerful symbols, which give it that mythic feel.

Orwell's books (Animal Farm and 1984) both succeed through a very different approach to dystopia (Animal Farm isn't really a dystopia in the traditional sense but it has a lot of the elements). Orwell succeeds through real perceptive insight into the inner mechanisms of the subjects of his critiques. Orwell has vision that can cut deep into the way that things like propaganda or 'controlling the narrative' work and then, having dissected them, hold those tactics up for all to see.

And I think a lot of dystopias fall short because they get tangled up in the Idea of their story. The "what if" they've created. Either focused too much on the Issue-- too narrowly to be universal, too broadly to be revealing-- or too disconnected from anything genuine. And because they get stuck at that particular point they don't have much more to offer than "wouldn't this be bad?" And if you get a pretty good writer they can make that feel insightful but really it doesn't have much more to offer than whatever absurd YA book comes to mind first when you hear "bad dystopian novel".

[serpentface]

What's the Wardi cultural take on Akoshos sleeping with/partnering with/marrying other Akoshos?

It's not highly regulated to a degree that there are overwhelming cultural norms about it. There's a lot of societal focus on akoshos being theoretically suitable sexual partners for both men and women due to being dual-gendered, but not to an extent that relationships with One Another are stigmatized.

They also largely get to escape from the most severe concerns about penetrator/penetrated power dynamics because they're not regarded as Men (they're regarded as dual-gendered, and they're a female social class on every practical level), there's no status of manhood to Lose by receiving sexual penetration. The only real thing you see in that department is people assuming that one acts as 'the man' and one acts as 'the woman', but this is largely due to preoccupation with a notion of sex being Penetration With A Penis (and that Penetration With A Penis means that one person is in a Man's Role and one person is in a Woman's Role). But this will not be regarded as unnatural as in same-gender male relations, akoshos will Have to take up a position in this sexual dichotomy if they want to have Real Sex (Penetration With A Penis) with each other, and this is not unnatural and doesn't involve gaining or losing status since they are simultaneously male and female, not men.

So like you might see individual culture critics finding stuff to nitpick about it as their annoyance of the week or a singular Guy here or there who thinks it's weird, but this isn't a widespread norm. The vast majority of people don't give a shit about akoshos having sex with each other. The worst thing you're likely to experience Solely by virtue of being in an akoshos-akoshos relationship is someone asking you (probably with genuine curiosity) which one does the man stuff and which one does the woman stuff.

Akoshos also don't experience Hard expectations for marriage (though there are societal pressures that make marriage an attractive safety net all the same, ESPECIALLY marriage to a man) so unofficial life-partnerships between akoshos are pretty much the Only same gender partnerships between unwed people that are going to go unquestioned. ((Sworn brotherhood is technically a same gender life partnership for men that is Functionally similar to marriage (in that it's a kin-making practice between unrelated adults), but the tradition is Built upon the assumption that both parties will be married to women and that a primary goal of this kinship is to provide security for both parties' wives and children)). Marriage obligations in general are more lax in the economically secure but not Wealthy lower mercantile classes (as obligations to support and perpetuate one's family are universal, but these obligations can be filled simply by having at least One son who can get hitched, and marriages in the lower classes have no political functions and therefore there's less reason to ensure All your children are wed (there's still incentives like dowry, but this is not desperately needed when a family is economically secure)). So akoshos in this class group tend to have a Lot more freedom in terms of their life arrangements and chosen partners (though still experience the limiting frameworks of structural misogyny in other capacities).

The only thing that is out of the picture is akoshos/akoshos marriage. Marriage in this society has a predominantly reproductive function, the concept of reproductively non-viable marriages is generally considered absurd. This is not JUST this culture's form of homophobia, as marriage is a very practical arrangement at its core - both in a reproductive capacity and as bedrock for the patriarchal blood-kinship family system that forms the core social unit. The idea of same gender marriage isn't just absurd because 'ewwww weird' it's like, that Cannot work within this system, it Cannot fill core functions of what a marriage intends to do here, the ways on which marriage and kinship are BUILT makes same gender marriage practically (rather than just socially) untenable.

The sole exception to the 'marriage = reproductively viable" rule is that akoshos can be married to men (which in practice is almost always as a remarriage after a man has secured At Least an heir). This has a Little bit of internal logic here in that they perform predominantly female social roles (thus are suited to being a wife, even if they can't bear children) (and also on practical levels of them having the same legal status as women) but it's really more of a 'this is just how it's always been' kind of thing. A lot of the older pre-Wardi identity dual-gender roles that got mashed together under the 'akoshos' name would have involved marriage to a man as a second wife/concubine, in addition to his primary wife who would bear his children. Men potentially having multiple spouses has not been retained as a cultural practice, but the notion that an akoshos Can be a wife to a man has survived into modern day legal and doctrinal practices around marriage.

So like this being said, marriage as it is legally defined is only between a man and a woman, a man and an akoshos, or a woman and an akoshos. In practice the latter two are comparatively VERY rare- a man/akoshos marriage cannot provide children (though an akoshos can practically fulfill all other obligations and duties of a wife), a woman/akoshos marriage Can provide children (and while akoshos cannot function as a male heir, these children Will take their akoshos-parent's family name (though the wife retains her father's family name)), but akoshos are legally grouped with women in terms of rights and privileges (including being permanently under legal domain of their father unless they have been legally handed off to a male husband) and Cannot provide hard power patriarchal support that this family system is built upon and therefore depends upon, which makes these marriages socio-economically insecure. They can obviously still be a good partner and parent, but this is not the same as having the Legal hard power of a patriarch.

Akoshos marrying each other would be reproductively and socially nonviable, and is treated as a similarly absurd concept to a man marrying a man or a woman marrying a woman. It's just not a part of the marriage and kinship framework, it's not a thing that you can Do.

[waspgrave]

Bioware releasing Hawke’s armor as though they didn’t completely drop that plotline

[themulitipurposechannel]

Fic: This is victory (hollow and cold).

Part: One

What if.. Mikey’s portal drags home a cold dead corpse.

I would like to preface this by saying I completely blame @goodlucktai for their amazing Incredible story, raised on little light for putting this idea into my head. Guys go check it out the fic, it’s amazing it makes me so so sad but there is also so many good things in it 😭. Personally speaking I don’t think there’s anything I can write that will ever come close to what Tai can do, but as a famous internet post once said, write your shitty pots. So here we goes ppl

Tw: major character death, grief, suicide idealisation, getting disowned, disassociation, starvation, slight description of injuries and inaccurate medical advice

But I promise, there is still hope even in this.

_

“Casey! When I get to the other side you close that portal!”

Everything stills. The world falls static.

“What..?” A foreign voice enters the fray. Ah. Cj thinks distantly. It’s mine.

A series of thoughts shoots through his mind. Faster than the battle drones Uncle Tello used to make, faster than the joy rides Uncle Mi used to give.

He sees empty eyes, forced smiles. Screaming voices stained with the weight only grief, hunger, thirst and stress can give.

He thinks of Michelangelo in the brief moments he has met the turtle, so bright and so energetic. And then he remembers his Uncle Mi twisted into something quiet, slow and outwardly peaceful.

He remembers Monty, so stoic and so very angry. Yet so very indulgent when it counts. Out in a blaze of guns and glory. Standard-issue shoulder pauldron shoved into shaking hands. You will do great things Princey. He remembers Monty’s mother. Whose name he never got, forever in a daze, staring at walls of nothing. A hallowed husk like so many of the living ghosts that wandered their dusty halls. He remembers Miwa. So tiny, so fragile. So young. Too young. No amount of their anything can ever replace or beat modern medicine.

His Uncle Tello, bitter, grumpy; burnt out and constantly overstimulated from the dirt covered and squishy pink hell they’ve found themselves in. But sometimes on better days he cocks his head to the side, with a face that almost smiles at Cj and says, “Come Jones Junior; I appear to have some scraps we need to dispose off.” Which is code for we’re going to give your Pa an aneurysm and make things go boom.

He remembers his family. Tired, thirsty, hungry, eyes on them constantly. Countless sleepless nights in hushed voices arguing, strategising, weeping. They thought he didn’t hear. But children always have the biggest ears and the longest standing shelter on earth is only so large.

First and foremost. Cj knows. He knows with heart wrenching certainty. If there was any way to make peace with the present Hamatos it would all be over now. They’ll hate him. They will. They will never forgive him for this.

Maybe if this was his Mom, his Auntie April, his Da-Uncle Mi, his Uncle Tello, his Grandpa Drax. Whatever else Master Raphael and Master splinter might have been to him. They might just forgive him but these people are not them. They have not been softened with a lifetime of knowing Cj. He doesn’t have that baby of the family privilege. He doesn’t have any privilege at all. It’s only been a day. Less than that technically.

Even just the thought of being hated by his family. Any version of them, curdles something in his core. Every fiber in his being lashes out and screams at the younger version of his sensei. (Oh but it was Leonardo wasn’t it? Oh, what has he done?) In ways he hasn’t done since he was 8 years old, because poor 8 year old Casey hadn’t quite figured out how to breathe through the hunger pains. I’m a healer. I’m supposed to stop these things. Please, I already let go before you can’t make me do this again-

“Leo no! There has to be another way!”

But this Leonardo says;

“We’ve tried everything Case, he’s too strong”

And deep down Cj knows that too. Much like the lies his family told him. “We can win” He knows otherwise too. Just like if he does this, he knows he’ll be left with nothing too.

But his family will still be here, surrounded by food, clean water, light, and endless amount of comics or magazines they could possibly want. They will be free.

They will never know gnawing hunger or sapping thirst, nor will they know the ever present hum of runhidenotsafe. They will never know the unique kind of suffering that comes from grasping for strength to just open your eyes and breathe in a world that has already long given up on itself.

Cj has seen the future. He has lived and breathed and sometimes, even thrived in an era where the krang came. Where the sky was a bloody brown instead of this clear dark blue and people were driven to insanity and killed from the common cold. Where the sour smell of rot piled everywhere. No matter how much or how hard you scrubbed.

He remembers his Sensei, his Pa, wise, comforting, always ready with a witty comeback or a brilliant plan. He remembers his Commander O’Neil, his Auntie April, rousing, quick and endlessly enduring, the steady voice of reason where even Sensei’s wit dulled. But they were tired, so very tired. The burden of leadership and grief and all the aches and pains of hunger and thirst that can never be quenched, already a fully dressed tomb just waiting for them to hang up their coats and admit futility to the unsurmountable cold.

He remembers how much his family loved him. How hard they tried to scrape together any piece of warmth for him. Tired Golden-Orange heaves himself into the air, to scoop Cj into his arms. Busy Blue who takes any meagre time he has to himself and spends it with Cj. Prickly Purple finds away to colour all his armour a shade of teal, even his siblings are still decked in occasional shades of grey. Overstretched Green always ready to pull her brothers back and scold; too guilty, too smothering, too harsh. Stop. You’re hurting the kid.

If Cj doesn’t close this portal, if he keeps this open, if he disobeys-the Krang will just come back through. And they will plunge the earth into a bloody, poisoned hell.

And he knows that if not Leonardo, then someone else in their stupid, selfless, self-sacrificial family will take up the mantle of resistance, unable to stand idly by at people’s suffering. Because these people are good, so very good. The Hamatos will fight, they will try. And they will lose.

The force of their ire will break him. The thought alone makes him sob, hiccuping in a way he hasn’t done, not since he was found shrieking over a cold Uncle Tello and had to be wrenched away, kicking and screaming. But still holding on. Even to the very last second and beyond. Because he is Cassandra Jones Junjor and a Hamato in every way that matters and he could never leave family behind. At least back then he couldn’t feel mom die

But the apocalypse.. that long, slow, painful march to inevitable death, will break him too. It wasn’t always bad, they had fun, karaoke nights, hilarious attempts to make birthday cakes for kids like him. But fuck.. that doesn’t change the fact that they still lost. That they will all still loose. Cj doesn’t know if he can willingly doom them all again because that’s what he’s going to do isn’t it? They were all so tired, so hungry, so thirsty. How can he let them go through that again?

He remembers how much happier, and how much lighter they always looked in those old scarce photos.

Selfishly, Cj doesn’t know if he can survive through another 20 something years or however long they make it this time, through that hell again. Forced to slowly watch again, as the Krang chip away at his family. Chip away at the people he called his friends till everything, bright, lively and kind was carved out;Uncle Hiro I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry-

They will never love you again. A voice thunders, like the death roll of their final march just this morning where Cj was still breathing in corrupted air under rusty skies. If only he died there with them. Anything is better than having to do this.

I know. Cj shakes, trembling fingers wrap around the key. Casey can see the division between young and new, old and worn and knows he cannot let it blur and become one.

“Casey! Urgh-please!”

Anything. I will give anything, Casey weeps. Anything as long as they live. Casey squeezes his eyes shut.

And just like with Uncle Tello,

Casey finally lets go.

The portal to the prison dimension slams shut with a glorious boom.

Leo, I love you. I’m sorry.

I wish I got more time to know you.

.

.

.

They scream at him. It’s Muffled, like the sensation of sound in the aftermath of a live grenade. They hurl all manner of abuse and venom at his face. He thinks he might be crying. Or maybe he’s not. His head feels tangled like the heaps of crusty old wires, Uncle Tello will never get the chance to unravel.

The shattered body of their Leonardo lies between them, like territory lines drawn between begrudging survivor groups. Cradled by a shaking soft shell. The blurry shapes of familiar voices once desperately calm and patient now roar,cutting and rightfully angry. It falls on his ears. He tries to grasp it, he does. He’s ruined everything, the least Cj can do now is listen.

But exhaustion gnaws at his very bones. Head pounding.

Nothing can explain this.

Nothing will justify this.

Severe head trauma, and shattered, collapsed carapace. Possible bruised and punctured lungs via pieces of loose carapace as the overall structure caved in, resulting in internal bleeding in the lungs and eventual asphyxiation. Patient chocked on his own blood. The field medic immediately drones internally, years of experience and training unable to be shut off (or rather, trained to never shut off) as listless eyes drift down to meet the unmoving slider.

It seems the one-sided eye contact is what finally breaks the softshell’s stupor. “Don’t you fucking dare.” The teen snarls, teeth flashing in all the ways he used to bare it at unwelcome visitors. But never at Casey. Never for long.

Wake up Jones. This is not your Uncle.

The rest of the group falls silent, shocked to see their previously silent family member speaking.

“You don’t get to look at him.” Achingly gentle, the purple branded softshell sets Leonardo onto the tiled floor.

Donatello stands. “You.” He hisses, pointing at Cj.

“You did this.”

Somewhere, somehow Cj manages to gather enough of himself to incline his head slightly in agreement. It’s the least he can do for them.

“Leave.” Donatello orders.

And like the good soldier he is, Cj does. Disappearing into the tunnels.

No one stops him.

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