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Donatello's feet dragged against the ground as he slithered through the tunnels of the sewers on his way home. It had been a long night of patrolling, and all he wanted was to go home and see the one thing that makes the long nights worth while.
The stairwell came into view and the sleepy mutant smiled. He climbed the stairs, feeling his muscles twitch from exhaustion and gave the door at the very top a gentle push.
The door swung open to reveal his laboratory. The tables where covered in papers and test tubes waiting to be picked up come day time. Donatello closed the door disguised as a large, rotating bookcase.
Donatello eyed the stairs leading from the basement he was in and to the house above. He climbed the stairs, listening as the stairs creaked from his weight with each step that he took.
Soon, he was at the top and entered the hallway of the old farmhouse he called his home. Donatello glanced in the direction of the stairs and wondered if she would be up there already asleep.
April gasped and sat up on the couch. Blue eyes adjusted to the darkness and she struggled to catch her breath. She struggled to move her limbs and found that she had been tucked in a purple blanket. Donatello's blanket...
The red head flashed back to her dream. The image of her kissing the ninja didn't leave her head, even if she rubbed at her eyes. The thing is...that hasn't been the first dream. There have been others where they're holding hands, walking together on the beach, holding one another...
April untangled herself out of the blanket and threw her legs over the side of the couch and buried her head into her hands. This had started when she had moved in with the guys. Maybe the stress has gone to her head? She had been hanging out a lot more with Donatello...but did she really like him like that?
The teenager sighed and dropped her hands. She supposed that could be the case. She was jealous of Karai when Donatello talked so kindly of her skills. She always reached out to him,
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More