Casey Jr.'s first word was ‘Weo.’
His second was ‘Cashee’ or ‘Raff’ or ‘Bifurcated Time Branch’—depending on who you asked.
At 36 months old he was their tiny poet. The Kraang was rearing its head, its mouth still smoking from the detonating hockey puck when Cassandra tucked his leg back into the fold of her baby wrap, unsheathed her stick's retractable blade, and asked, "What shall we do to the big bad annoying Kraang?" and out came his first, fully-formed sentence.
"TAKE ITS BRAINS!"
Donnie said, "What."
Leo said, "What."
Raph said, "NO?" and Cassandra said, "Yucky—but sure."
SCHLICK went the Kraang. Mikey added, "that's what you call a butterfly cut, kiddo—what did you just say?"
Casey howled, "TAKE ITS BRAINS."
No alien brains were taken (though Donnie would've liked to, very much). But Casey had a knack for putting the soul of the thing into words.
The first day they'd run out of sugar, he passed around flat stones he'd plucked from a river and declared, "DESSERT!"
Mikey sniffed at it. "What kind is it?" he asked, not unkind.
"A cuppycake."
"Ah, a cupcake?"
Donnie—dismally unfunny after they'd officially ran out of coffee rations, and then cigarettes—scoffed. "What would you know about dessert. Do you even know how frosting tastes like?" and Casey pointed at a passing cloud, then pretended his heart burst into tiny, lovestruck pieces.
"Like BWAH," Casey said, giddy.
Later, he'd fish the truth out of the air again; the last time Leo and Raph fought like this they'd been teenagers. Not imposing figureheads of a rebel group. Teary-eyed, Casey chased after Leo all the way out of the camp, wrapped his arms tight around Leo's knee, and dug his feet in.
“You need to come back and, and, and hug each other real tight or else—! Or else your arms will forget forever."
"Forever." Leo touched his throat; it hurt from all the yelling.
Casey's lower lip wobbled. "And ever."
Kid was right again, of course. The days rolled into weeks, into seasons, into the Year We Don't Like to Talk About, and his arms had forgotten; he'd dropped the hug on the way here, maybe, got distracted by some ugly three-headed Kraang and tripped on a punchline, and Raph was gone in the morning. No one there for the final sendoff.
Casey didn't get the concept. At six years old, the kid could perform triple axels around any fresh recruit, but he still couldn't sort out his tenses. Said "I eated!" or "I beated your ass, sensei!"; his past and present verbs tangling like fishing lines.
Kid had a point, Leo thought. What was the difference anyway? Leo missed Raph. Misses Raph. Is missing Raph. Will miss Raph, for the rest of his days, in perplexing ways that will continue to surprise him, like the sunrise outside the canyon. How it rose and rose and rose and rose.
Halfway up the ascent, Leo's knees buckled. Hadn't the future dissolved in that instant? Ten years, he'd promised Mikey. This time we play for keeps. Still: the end of the world, ecosystem degradation, no brother to haunt him; dystopia after dystopia. Something inside him was blackening.
"Had a bad dream," Leo said, shivering as the kid grabbed his cheeks.
Casey said, “Well, have a better one!”
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I agonized over which to pick because I just want to ask about all your fics in progress!! I narrowed it down to two and that's just going to have to be ok
the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending)
Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup
its very funny you pick those two because those like. two of the only three on that list that ISNT lord huron related lmao. those are both hatchetfield fics ive started in secret. regardless those are the main ones im working on right now SO
the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending) is a fic based on the ending of TGWDLM where like. you know how in the credits where Emma starts begging the audience for help? and like. you know how in TTO how the audience is also referred to by Bliklotep's title? soooo the fic is the ending but i throw him in the mix and ramp the already existing horror of "begging for help and being ignored a cheering crowd" by going "realizing said crowd has been treating your suffering and death as a source of amusement right before you die". only fun times in hatchetfield
"She stumbles to the edge of the stage. The stitches in her leg have come undone and there’s blood seeping through the bandage. That is real. Emma is real, and she needs to help right now."
Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup is a fic that takes place directly after the end of Yellow Jacket that focuses on Daniel and Sophia like. right after the ending. we dont really see them after the Otho fight and we still have no clue is Sophia is even ALIVE and also i miss them dearly. the fic mostly focuses on Daniel trying not to have a panic attack in Miss Retros because one friend is missing after almost dying and the other is in the hospital after also almost maybe dying and he doesn't really know what to do. Not a whole lot of plot it's mostly him trying to deal with that whole. mess. luckily he's got Miss Holloway and Duke to make things a bit easier (responsible adults? in MY hatchetfield? its honestly only these two but its better than nothing)
"He feels so stupid. Sophia is in the hospital and she might never wake up. Hannah is missing and could be kidnapped or dead or worse. And he’s just sitting here in a cozy diner with pancakes and orange juice, and Hannah’s Jacket but not Hannah and not Sophia."
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