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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,
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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