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The War Against Ourselves 7
Chapter 7: Death and Murder is Blood Red
#21 – Limit
I want to look away. Watching the blood from what's left of their heads soaking into the dusty ground is making my stomach rebel. He's still standing there too, still glaring, eyes still full of hate. I can't help but shutter a bit when he finally turns those eyes to me. But his expression changes to one that's thoughtful and even a bit apologetic. We talked that evening, for hours. He told me more about himself that evening than in the entire time I'd served with him. He eventually told me why he did it. How there was only so much he could take... I talked a bit too, getting over my shock faster than I thought I would. That night we buried them. Neither of us said a word as we dumped their bodies into makeshift graves and covered them with dirt. It took him several days to make up the grave marker, about the same amount of time it took him to convince me to actually wear the armor he'd stripped off of one o
Fate's Palette: Painted Me 2
Ch 2: The Building Blocks of Trust and Fear
I cant do that Leo. Its a violation of his privacy, as well as his trust. How can you stand there and ask me to SPY on our brother!? Donatello was not a happy turtle right now. Hed woken up with the intention of running a quick diagnostic scan on the security systems and then settling himself in front of the television for a three hour Myth Busters marathon. But instead he found himself deep in a heated debate with his oldest brother.
Would you keep your voice down?! Leonardo hissed to his olive skinned brother. He stood in Donatellos path, preventing him from walking away from the argument, before continuing. Look, this isnt about trust. Thi
The War Against Ourselves 6
Chapter 6: Lightish Red Heavy Equipment
#18 – Drunk
I swear that I was drunk when it happened. That makes it partially Grif's fault for coming up with a way to make champagne from scratch and partially Sarge's fault for making drinking on New Year's mandatory. I know that some portion of it was Simmons' fault too, but I can't remember enough of last night to know what part he played. And whose idea was it to invite the Blues!? Oh yeah, that was me... All I know is that I woke up this morning with a crushing headache, a pair of foreign boxers in my room with a 'C' inked into its tag, and now I've just discovered that someone carved a heart onto the ass of my armor. I mean it's cute and all, but Sarge is going to be less than pleased. I can't help but grimace at the daunting task ahead of figuring out which of Blue team's 'C's' kept me company last night. Nothing to do, I suppose, except swear off ever drinking again and then start the slow trudge towa
Fate's Palette: Painted Me 1
Ch 1: A Freak Even Amongst Freaks
Hamato Michelangelo had decided years ago that he was different than his brothers. So different, in fact, that on more than one occasion he'd wondered if he was even really related to any of them. They were serious while he wanted to have fun, they were pessimists for the most part while he tried to see the positives in life. Along the way he'd admitted to himself that his brothers were smarter than he was and that they also seemed to learn and remember things much easier than he did. Physically they had always been bigger than he was, and as they'd aged even the emerging slight bluishness to his skin tone seemed to set him apart from them in his mind. But most importantly, they weren't..defective..like he was.
He wasn't sure what to call it really.&
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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