onepersonsechochamber  asked:

I'm really sorry to bother you with the "gemstones: are they alive or not" asks, but looking up the definition for "inanimate" is essentially lifeless, and I'm suddenly reminded of the gem in the lighthouse in Horror Club, which was able to project the memory of young Lars carving his name into the wood panel wall, and show young Lars and young Ronaldo's falling out. Wouldn't that take some conscious effort to do, and thus not classify the gemstones of the gems as inanimate?

Oh my goodness! I think we misunderstood each other there. I was referring to the outside of the gemstone itself, and I think you’re referring to the Gemstone (capital G). I think that the part that gets cracked is just the outside, like a flesh wound. Like, you wouldn’t say the human skin is sentient and alive without the human being. So the Gemstone is what projects, what has life, everything you’ve said. 

So like, the gemstone is just part of the Gemstone, but like, I was referring only to the case aspect. It’s rather difficult for me to explain this without hand gestures, but I hope you know what I’m getting at, because I now know what you’re getting at! 

anonymous asked:

Hey, can you do a Leo's POV for chapter 25?

(I’ll just knock these out at the same time)

“–eating dinner right now, I just wanted to let you know.”

“Yeah,” Leo says, the office phone clenched in a white-knuckled hand. His voice stays even and steady, and his words are shaped like a smile, but there’s a black pit in his stomach that probably matches the look on his face. “Thanks for calling, Donnie. I’ll be home soon.”

And it takes real conscious effort on Leo’s part to hang the phone back in it’s cradle without slamming the receiver down hard enough to crack the plastic.

Karai takes one look at him and says, “Go on and head out for the night. I can handle our last client on my own.”

Normally he would argue–he isn’t so wealthy that he can afford to shave time off his work schedule, even in small increments–but today Leo just shoots her a grateful look and heads for the door. Stops at his locker to trade his staff I.D. badge for his jacket, pats his pockets down to make sure he’s got his wallet, waves a distracted goodbye and leaves without further ado. 

Mikey has been pale and brittle lately, the sunshine behind his smile something muted and unsubstantial. Losing weight, and missing sleep, and they didn’t know why. Any attempt to talk about it was deflected, and Leo warned his brothers not to push him on it. None of them reacted well to being cornered. Until tonight, when Raphael had accidentally pushed too hard, breaking under the weight of worry for his little brother, and Mikey took off on his own–

Only to come home–sorry and sheepish, to hear Donnie tell it–and offer the truth, no strings attached. 

And the truth is that Mikey has spent all this time feeling scared and threatened of a strange man who had approached him the night after his championship game. Leo feels sick. He remembers Mikey jumping under the familiar touch of Leo’s hand, heart palpitating as wildly as a rabbit’s, and it was dark, but surely if Leo had looked he would have seen a fearful sheen to his baby brother’s eyes, if he had followed Mikey’s anxious gaze he would have spotted the retreating figure in the crowd. 

If Leo had been seconds later–if he had decided to wait with their brothers by the car, if he hadn’t gone to Mikey when he had–

He almost falls off the bus in his haste to get home, rushing up the stairs and letting himself into their small apartment–taking in his little family, grouped together on the sofa, and shedding his jacket and his keys without breaking stride. Mikey is safe, sitting snug and secure between Donnie and Raph, but Leo has to hold him anyway, or the terrible, terrified twist in his chest will never go away. 

“Before you say anything, I’m really, really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner–”

Leo smiles when he tries to apologize, and tucks him close–his kid, really, the only kid he’ll ever have, and he loves him so much. The conversation quickly turns light and teasing, and Leo only gets up when he’s certain Mikey’s laughter is sincere, and all the weighted shadows are gone from his eyes. 

He heads to the bathroom, shuts the door, and hangs his head against it. 

Sometimes, Leo doesn’t feel big enough for this responsibility his parents left him. He’ll do it anyway–he would never walk away from this, from them–but there’s a part of him that doubts he’s the best person for the job.