#casey jones ii

[kevingotabigasschin]

“Yo can I join?” 

“Who invited you?”

[chiangyorange]

peepaw this. peepaw that. WHAT ABOUT THE KID PEEPAW’S SUPPOSED TO PAWING HUH??? [shakes you] [shakes you] [shakes you] [shakes you] [shakes you] [shakes you] [shakes you]

caseys under the cut

Trial and Error - @apatheticrobots​

odd man out - @threestripeslider​

Last Grain Of Sand In The Hourglass - @last-hourglass​

Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis - @mutantninjamidlifecrisis​

Let’s Make A Deal - @beeceit​

we’ll meet again, soon - thats me lol

[anonabelle]

~ Raph and the Joneses ~

Decided to do that thing that’s been going ‘round - putting the turtles in your outfits. Except my brain was like why stop at turtles when the Hamato clan has more than four kids now? So here we are. This is the first of 3 sets.

Do you know how stupid happy it makes me to draw Cass next to brickhouse Raph and beanpole Case??? So stupid happy.

[luna--dragon]

Why do I feel like this is something Future Leo and Casey would do?

[lee-scribbles-and-doodles]

Shut up shut up I just realized something

OK so obviously Casey Jr inherited his hokey mask from Cassandra.

But he's painted red stripes on it.

To look more like Leo

(That's his dad figure I can't believe--)

I can't believe I'm out her getting emotional over a hokey mask gfdi

(Also don't get me started on how Future Leo's prosthetic is clearly based on Raph, who's heavily implied to be dead in this timeline because holy shit)

[thewiglesswonder]

Personally, I think that Hunter should be given a hockey stick and allowed to go feral.

[las-tortugas-ninja]

i think the funniest part about casey jones that i dont see people talk about is he is a good guy but he deadass looks like a serial killer stereotype. if somebody who wore a hockey mask and had a shitton of weapons at his disposal walked up to me at night id shit bricks

[mighty-ant]

future boy, part one

ao3

Concrete, smoke, the oppressive, sizzling ozone tang of recently discharged laserfire—the stench of decimation was the same in the New York City of 2020 as it would be in 2044. Or, was. Had been. Never would be. 

He was new to this whole time travel thing, okay?

Casey was still white-knuckling the Key in one hand, adrenaline working a fine tremble down his arm and down into his fingers. Its weight was substantial, as a centuries old hunk of stone, an ancient prison should be, and even dim and powerless, it didn’t look real beneath his filthy, bloodstained glove. 

It was the Key to his future. To the annihilation of a world he’d only heard about in stories. 

It was the Key that Master Leonardo died for. And kept dying for. 

The streets around Metro Tower—real streets , with those little yellow lines painted in the middle, surrounded by mostly intact storefronts where pale-faced civilians peered out of smashed windows, wondering if the end of the world had been prevented or merely paused—were caked in rubble, more so than the other parts of the city he’d seen. In this world, to these people, unused to decimation as the norm, it probably still looked pretty bad. 

Chunks were missing from lots of buildings, fallen to the street in cavernous, splintering craters when they weren’t disintegrated entirely. Casey spied a helicopter sticking out of the glittering, glass side of a skyscraper, trailing smoke, and around the corner it looked like a tank had been picked up and dropped into the middle of a bank, its marble columns lying splayed out and scorched in the street. 

But the world Casey came from didn’t have buildings that weren’t burnt out husks, teetering skeletons that couldn’t provide substantial shelter against a sandstorm much less a pack of Krang demon dogs. The land was scarred, dead, barren. Pockmarked ground was built on the demolished layers of New York City, every gleaming skyscraper and the Hidden City that had once lain beneath her, exposed by the Krang’s theft of mystic energy and burnt to cinders in the first year of invasion. 

He knew, logically, that millions would had to have died to make the future that he lived, where a cave filled with a few hundred, starving refugees felt like a feat of survival. But until Sensei threw him through the time gateway, dropping him into the heart of a shining metropolis among more humans that he’d ever imagined existing in the entire history of Earth, packing the sidewalks in endless rivers, talking and shopping and living , he never could’ve grasped the sheer magnitude of loss. Of death. 

Deaths that would never happen now, because he held the Key in his hand. Because Master Leonardo— Leo , young and impulsive and reckless as hell, and the greatest hero the world would never know—pushed the Technodrome beyond the reaches of the stars, dooming himself to a short imprisonment and long, excruciating death at the hands of an ancient, alien evil. 

Casey doomed him to that fate. 

The Krang were many, many sickening, hateful things, and merciful was not one of them. 

Those that they tortured and turned and still survived never stayed that way for long, unable to live with the monsters they’d become. Casey had fought the mangled bodies that Krang possessed long after the host had died, empty puppets performing at their masters’ whim. He’d dragged comrades back to base with gaping holes pierced through them, choking on their own blood, nursing wounds that appeared small only to turn to them in the next moment and discover them gray and glassy-eyed. There were never enough bandages, enough medicine, and infection killed as many as the Krang did. 

Casey would never forget the way Sensei screamed when Master Donatello had to amputate what remained of his right arm. Master Raphael had been gone for half a decade by then, so Master Michaelangelo held his left hand until he passed out from the pain, and many hours after. Master Donatello, already a taciturn teacher, barely spoke after that. And then, he was gone too. 

As rubble and glass crunched beneath his boots, Casey heard Sensei’s scream reverberating in the empty chasm of his head. Somewhere, high above the technicolor explosion over Metro Tower and beyond this plane, Leo might be screaming the same way. Casey hoped that wasn’t the case. He hoped Krang’s revenge would be swift, that Leo would be at peace, secure in the knowledge that he saved his brothers, saved the planet , even if he couldn’t save himself. Again. 

You’re a lifesaver, Casey Jones.

As if. 

Twice now he’d abandoned Sensei. First to face annihilation alone, gone with a smile and a blinding laserblast that seared into his retinas, the afterimage lingering whenever he closed his eyes. The last Hamato, slain. 

The second time, Casey damned Leo by choice, if not willingly. It was what his not-quite-Sensei wanted, begged him to do, even as Raphael (Master Raphael living, breathing, miraculously freed from Krang control, Leo did it) pleaded fiercely against it. But Leo trusted Casey to do it. To kill him. Because he finally understood what Casey feared he never would. 

Get the Key. 

Stop the Krang. 

No matter the personal cost. 

Behind Casey, something clattered and fell—precarious rubble, most likely—but by the way he startled it might as well have been gunfire. His mask dropped over his face and he brought his chainsaw staff to bear as his heart pounded in his ears and his muscles thrummed, reactions all delayed. What sloppy work; Master Leonardo would’ve had him doing flips until the second apocalypse for his lack of alertness on the battlefield.

Could he still call it that if the battle was over?

His aimless wandering had not taken him far from the base of Metro Tower. The smoke was densest here, the buildings dark, and the wind whistled mournfully through the shattered windows. Tendrils of the Krangs’ parasites lay frozen among the devastation, disturbingly organic among the wreckage once built by human hands. 

It was so quiet. Casey didn’t think he’d ever known silence such as this. Compared to the dizzying rush of Times Square and the havoc of battle, this felt like he was the last person left alive in the whole of New York City. 

His gaze caught on something that flickered, metal reflecting the glow of the obliterated Technodrome. Precision metal, a blue hilt. Casey dropped his staff with nerveless fingers. 

One of Leo’s katana. 

He lurched toward it before he was even conscious of moving. His legs shook, knees only holding him up until he reached the blade. He collapsed heavily before it, breath leaving him in a painful rush. Or maybe that was just his cracked ribs from the drone attack two days and a time gateway ago. 

Even through his knee pads, the jolt of falling onto crushed concrete rattled through his bones. He couldn’t have cared less. Casey couldn’t remember the last time his hands trembled while handling a weapon, but now he had to move slowly to pick up the katana, lest he grip it too tightly and slice through his gloves, down to the flesh. 

He’d been seven when he first saw Master Leonardo’s katana up close. 

They were a resistance cell of a few hundred at one point, mostly families. They traveled through the ruins of the sewers back then, before the Krang wised up to the strategy and forced them aboveground, into the caves. Not many yokai survived the extermination of the Hidden City, and even fewer mutants, but they weren’t an entirely uncommon site around their scattered campfires. 

Everyone knew the Hamato Clan—Commander O’Neil and her four mutant brothers were basically their de facto leaders. Casey had only ever seen them from a distance, and they amazed him even then. 

Raphael, silent and lumbering as he made his rounds, was the biggest mutant Casey had ever seen, positive that he could take out a whole pack of demon dogs without breaking a sweat. Michelangelo could often be found in the middle of a game with the children of the camp (there was a surplus of orphans, after all), throwing harmless ribbons of light for them to chase or sewing balls for them to kick around in the dirt. Donatello was the turtle they all saw the least of, always holed up in his mobile lab where the shriek of wrenching metal and drilling could be heard at all hours. He would often emerge with weapons, demonstrate how they worked, and then vanish back into his lab with the deadpan warning, “Try not to blow your heads off.” 

Leonardo could most often be found hunched over the war table, alongside Commander O’Neil and Mom. 

On the day that they were discovered by the Krang and their bunker started to rattle apart around them, his mother forced her way through the screaming crush of refugees and shoved Casey into Leonardo’s arms. 

He still had both katana back then, before he lost them along with his right arm, and Leonardo had to juggle the two swords and a seven-year-old Casey in a moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness. In a blink, he had one katana sheathed and Casey instinctively tucked into the crook of his arm. 

“Jones, what the he—” 

“I need you to take him, Hamato,” Mom spat, eyes blazing despite the gauntness of her cheeks, the bandages, her limp. She was one of a handful to make it back from a raid just a few nights ago, and just barely at that. “I’ll just slow you down.”

Leonardo’s grip tightened on his katana, but he still shook his head. “Don’t say that. I’ll get you some help, you can make it.”

“No, I can’t. Not anymore.” Whatever Leonardo saw in her eyes made his shoulders slump in defeat. “But I can stay here and take a few hundred Krang out with me.”

Leonardo chuckled once, a tired, sad sound. “There’s the Foot Recruit I remember.”

Mom glared. “So you’ll protect Casey? You’ll teach him?”

“You know I will.”

Terror struck Casey, and he’d reached out to his mother. Fear stole his voice, but Mom took his hand and pressed a kiss against his fingers. “You’re gonna go with Sensei. Listen to him, even when he’s being a blowhard, and you’ll be okay. Okay?” 

An explosion shook the ceiling, raining dirt and chunks of stone down on their heads. Leonardo curled over Casey, protecting him from the falling debris. 

“You need to go,” Mom said sharply. She turned away, snagging a bazooka from a passing fighter. Casey watched her disappear into the fleeing tide, toward the where the walls cracked under the Krang’s assault. 

Master Leonardo spun his katana, the long silver blade glinting gold from the flickering bulbs they’d strung across their base. He grinned, grief tucked away, the streaks over his eyes red as blood. 

“C’mon, Casey Jones. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Sensei lost his mystic energy years ago, stolen by the Krang in the first days of the invasion. Casey only had Master Michaelangelo’s stories of the portals he’d been able to create, and the bittersweet realization of how such an ability could’ve aided the Resistance. Now, having seen Leo’s portals in action, splendors of light and speed, escape and rescue, he knew what it meant to find one lying abandoned, miles away from the explosion that was all that remained of the Technodrome.

If he’d had any hope of Leo making it out of the Krang prison dimension, this just snuffed it out. 

Casey bowed his head over the katana, eyes burning like he was staring down the smoldering barrel of a Krang blaster, but he didn’t cry again. He’d shed his tears for Leonardo—Leo, Sensei; the one no older than him, a familiar stranger, and the one he carried across decimated battlefields—and wouldn’t dishonor their sacrifice with more weakness. This was war . They’d had to abandon allies before, more times than he could count. Mom. Raphael. Donatello. Master Michelangelo. For the good of the Resistance. 

He’d completed Sensei’s last mission. Find the Key. Stop the Krang. The world was saved, as impossible an idea as that was to wrap his head around. 

Now Casey just had to contend with the aching emptiness that victory had left him with. 

No probbles, right? 

The new communicator on his wrist crackled, for the first time since he leapt off the crumbling Metro Tower with Key in hand. Casey barely heard it. He’d already borne witness to more of the turtles’ grief than he deserved, and not just as their unwitting harbinger of doom. Raphael taken, Raphael turned by the Krang, filling Mikey and Donnie’s head with delusions of grandeur without ever telling them that their greatness cost them their lives in his future. 

Sitting here alone among the wreckage and ruin was the least of what Casey deserved. Not disturbing the Hamato Clan as they picked up the pieces of their life. 

Shouting erupted from his communicator, startling in the eerie silence of the demolished street. Heart pounding, blood rushing through his ears, Casey strained to parse the frantic words. He’d nearly dropped Leo’s sword in his panic, and after scrambling to hold onto it for a terrifying number of seconds, grabbed it tightly by the blade. The sharp edge cut through the fingers of his glove, piercing the skin slightly. 

By then, the yelling had narrowed down to one voice, Raphael’s. Not that it made it any easier to comprehend what he was saying. 

“—alive! He’s alive!”

Alive? Who was…

Casey’s stomach plummeted, past his feet, beyond the sewers, falling down deep into the Hidden City. He felt cold all over, like he’d been struck with fever, because Casey Jones II was not that lucky. His misfortune was surviving while everyone around him, everyone better, died. 

Another voice interrupted, silencing the frantic cries with a single word. “Raphael.”  

Casey had never known Sensei’s sensei—Splinter’d been killed years before Casey was born, but the rat he’d met in their underground home seemed jovial, at least until he mentioned the Krang. Now, the rat's voice was brittle, and with one word Casey recognized the fear in it. The fear of hoping. 

Raphael let out a rattling breath of relief, a sob disguising itself as a laugh. “Leo’s alive, Dad. We have him.”

Then, a tired, wry voice that Casey never thought he’d ever hear again (outside of his nightmares) warbled up from his communicator. 

“The reports of my death were… greatly exaggerated.”

Casey’s face was wet again, cheeks hot with racing tears. He couldn’t stop staring down at his communicator, uncomprehending. 

He’d abandoned Leonardo for the second time, doomed him, killed him, but…he was alive? This time…this time, did everyone get to live? 

It was impossible to fathom. It was more than fairytale, of which he knew few, or any half-formed imagining he’d ever had of what peace might be like, curled up on cold stone ground with his threadbare cape for a blanket and a handful of underfed rats in his stomach. 

“ —everyone okay?” Raphael was saying. “April, are you still with Pops? What about Casey? Casey! You there?” 

On instinct, he opened his mouth to respond in the affirmative, but found that no sound escaped. Shame raced through him in a scorching flush; frustrated, he roughly scrubbed his free hand across his tearstained face, smearing it with even more bits of blood and dirt. 

Since he was a child, he sometimes lost the ability to speak in the wake of their more punishing missions. He was perfectly capable in the heat of battle, firing off commands and accepting those he was given, but as soon as his blood cooled and the guns stopped firing, Casey would often find himself rendered mute. 

After Casey got himself stuck at the bottom of a ravine with a broken leg for four hours, unable to call for help, Donatello had installed a little button beside his communicator so that he could still check-in with command using morse code. Casey tried to send such a message now, desperate and embarrassed at his failing, despite knowing that no one else’s communicator was configured to receive it. Not for twenty-one years, and now maybe never. 

.. .----. -- / .... . .-. .

“C-Casey? You there, bud?” 

His racing mind quieted at Leo’s voice, strained with worry that was both familiar and not. As Sensei’s most fastidious lieutenant, he was often uneasy when Casey missed a check-in, but hearing the same thing from his counterpart, who cracked jokes in the face of certain, unimaginable death and was an entire year younger than Casey, sent a half-hysterical, incredulous bubble of laughter spilling out of his mouth. 

He set down Leo’s katana with reverent care, forcing his closed fingers to open with steady determination. The thin gash crossing the underside of his fingers wept lightly, and sung with mild, stinging pain that crescendoed when he clenched his empty fist closed. He focused on that sting, rather than his cracked ribs, aching bad knee, and every other cut and bruise that his armor couldn’t protect him from.

Maybe, this time, everyone did get to live. 

Casey gasped a breath, muteness broken for now, and lifted the wrist bearing his communicator. 

“I’m here." 

[rockmilkshake]

It's late at night when I'm writing this, and I don't know a damn thing about Renet, but if we do get Rise Season 3 or the potential movie sequel, I want that girl to be there. Because Casey 2's literally a walking temporal anomaly and the potential for a world-is-falling-apart-due-to-time-paradoxes plot is there!

That, and just imagining an incredibly tired, frustrated time manager Renet barging into the turtles' lives and being like "where the HELL IS CASEY JONES JR AT" is very funny to me.

[riseconfessions]

“I headcanon both Caseys as Trans!”

[gfanz4ever]

You guys wanna know something fun?

In previous series, Casey Jones' full name is Arnold Casey Jones...the second. He's named for his father.

You wanna know something else fun? This

Is Casey Marie Jones, from the IDW "Last Ronin" mini series. She was named for her father, the original Casey Jones.

Sound familiar?

[kevingotabigasschin]

Misery, CPR and Reese’s Puffs

[chiangyorange]

casey jones x2 hugs!!!!!!!!!!

(+1 incident)

[anonabelle]

A lotta product placement on this kid. I think he carries it well.

[luna--dragon]

If you put every version of casey jones in a room together, what do you think would happen?

[mogai-headcanons]

Raphael from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is a biromantic bisexual boyprincess stimgender autigender kitluvollic softpetcomfic ilovebeingcringeic redgender pinkgender bitegender traumagender eldrellis lovegender gendercugific trans guy age regressor OSDD-1a system!

Donatello is an aroacequoisexual nonbinary techaelic vilgender creaturething kenolumine stimgender autigender radgender virtuesse agereboic madscientistcatgender lavendercosmic ilovebeingcringeic horrorloggender glitch404gender glitchgender pinxelic purplegender bitegender traumagender oldwebmonsterenbyic energydrinkgender beyondfuturic demiboy!

Michelangelo is a polyamorous omniromantic aegosexual catpupgender genderfluid pupgender xenogender stimgender ADHDgender sillyaeangender catpwupic sillything warmcolsunic toddleric dandedappline ilovebeingcringeic nyantartgender orangegender traumagender eldrellis lovegender gendercugific age regressor!

Leonardo is a gay demisexual stimgender ADHDgender sillyaeangender herbcandlic ditsylexic sillything sillyheehoogender toddleric ilovebeingcringeic nyantartgender bluegender bitegender memegender traumagender energydrinkgender lovegender pincusmic lovirium gendercugific genderbouffon sugureux trans guy age regressor!

April O'Neil is a cis lesbian!

Cassandra Jones is a lesbian nonbinary grungegender stimgender autigender ADHDgender herbcandlic ilovebeingcringeic manedwolfgender wolfgirlgender bitegender traumagender energydrinkgender akuyalia demigirl!

Casey Jones II is an aroace finalboyic offhuman decomposegender macarshric nocambugender leabanocorpen stimgender autigender ADHDgender softpetcomfic sleepyregressic toddleric tinymascgender cosmichourglassic ilovebeingcringeic horrorloggender glitch404gender glitchgender bitegender traumagender gendercugific trans guy age regressor!

Raphael from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012) is a bisexual reciprosexual trans snarlgender bloodymuzzic aggrobloodygender floradecayic tinymascgender ilovebeingcringeic pinkvampgender vampgender redgender bitegender traumagender plantmonsterboyic vampiremonsterboyic psychophoria turtle!

Donatello is a demiromantic cupiosexual straight cis lovirium eldrilovic autigender vilegender lavendercosmic purplegender glitchgender beyondfuturic fouscizte turtle!

Michelangelo is a polyamorous pansexual genderfluid catpupgender cakegoreic stimgender ADHDgender sillaeangender catpwupic ditsylexic sillything warmcolsunic toddleric ilovebeingcringeic nyantartgender orangegender traumagender eldrellis fouscizte amocatix gendercugific genderbouffon psychophoria age regressor!

Leonardo is an aromantic aceflux bisexual offhuman finalboything genderfluid spacething multiverocusgender gorigender deergender bluegender traumacutecomfin unhumnalovic oceanfearic psychophoria indipurspimvidic stimgender autigender swordgender bladegender monstergirl eldritchgirl snarlgender depressmutix ageregender sleepyregressic sommolin toddleric ilovebeingcringeic traumagender gendercugific age regressor!

April O'Neil is an aromantic demisexual cis humanthing spacething horrorloggender glitchgender pinkvampgender pinxelic citrullusgender aliengender vampgender traumagender eldrellis eldrilovic gendercugific person!

Casey Jones is transfeminine and bigender!

Hamato Miwa is a bisexual nonbinary transfeminine humanthing macarshric nocambugender creaturething grungegender herbcandlic monstergirlboy ilovebeingcringeic bitegender snakegirl snakepeachteagender snakicesse traumagender eldrellis akuyalia person!

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