#hence the pen fidgeting drawing

[raspberry-vinaigrette]

dayshift at freddy's doodles. me when im on the dayshift bro

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀 .

# with trafalgar water d. law.

despite the overextended manner with which law behaved, and the fatigue that crept into his soul due to his tendencies of avoiding a decent rest, sleep could not find him in the slightest. when his insomnia lurked around the corner, law could always count on your mouth to tire him out.

⎰ & smut (mdni!) gn!reader. oral (male!receiving). deepthroating. praise kink. no y/n used.

W.C: 2K.

the incessant ticking of the obstinate clock on the wall had the opposite effect of what was meant to be soothing. law had quit on writing the reports that dwelled on his mind, finding that his grip on the pen was unusually harsh — and enough to split it in two. law wasn’t against the vision of black ink on his skin — the tattoos on his body were enough proof of that — yet, when the ink that stained his palm was born from the destruction of one quite expensive and favored pen, pleased was the last adjective he’d use.

he scrubbed his eyes with the cleaner fingers, shutting them with a sense of bubbling rage born from intrinsic exhaustion. the strained muscles of his back began to ache an hour ago. he failed to concentrate on even the smallest of details, his synapses so lethargic he’d probably end up writing their instead of there in his paper. law clenched his jaw; stressed, sleep-deprived, and frustrated.

bepo had knocked on his door ten minutes prior — for the fifth time that night — with the same advice prepared. law’s answer remained equal, empty promises and meaningless deadlines that he had no intention on following. it was but a matter of time until the navigator pulled out his secret weapon, or that was, at least, how you were called under that context.

law sent a piercing gaze towards the closed door, fidgeting and quietly begging for your intervention, as though a religious fool who placed his trust on the force of manifestations. he thought of seeking you out himself, hours prior. yet, during instances drawn to his duties, law was but a rooted tree lost amidst a vexing fog, incapable of moving even one miserable inch; hence the urge to have you. his refugee; his medicine. the surgeon of death — more than a billion-worth bounty hovering over his head —, had succumbed to both the plague and blessing of love. with his head nearing the table’s surface, a weary sigh past his lips, law pictured your face and found that he would have fallen victim to such a feeling a thousand times over, so long as that meant claiming you his.

he heard the scratch of the door against the ground, and perked up upon the knowledge of, at last, having you in his office — for no other crewmate was allowed to barge in without a warning knock.

you walked towards him — slowly —, your hips swaying, malice-filled eyes. law felt but a prey under the gaze of its hunter; one left with a sense of gratitude upon the approach of the searing and delicious taste of death’s kiss.

you sat on the edge of his desk, careful as not to meddle with his papers, and softly removed his hat to caress the disheveled locks of black hair. law surrendered to your touch, sighing with relief.

“it’s getting late,” you stated, drawing circles on his cheek. law intertwined his fingers with your own, pressing his lips to the back of your hand.

“can’t sleep,” he answered, chasing your scent; drowning his nose on the skin of your wrist.

law glanced up at you, enamored. you tilted your head to the side, gears turning as you deconstructed his sentence and stance, figuring the innuendo underneath. there were moments in which his restlessness was a product of his past. from the plague, to the death of cora-san, nightmares hunted him down as though starved beasts aiming at a dying creature. however, in other instances — such as the current one — law was but too overworked to fall asleep. whatever the context of the disease, the cure remained the same: your touch.

you moved to the back of his chair, massaging his shoulders. law relaxed, leaning his head back with a low groan. your lips hovered above his jaw, the tip of your tongue darting out to lick a stripe on his skin. your fingers lost themselves under the fabric of his coat, re-drawing the patterns of the tattoo on his chest.

“and how should i cure your problem, doctor? hands or mouth?”

law breathed out heavily upon the hearing of his title, sounding oh-so-sinfully on your tongue. he cleared his throat. “mouth. doctor’s orders.”

you hummed. law watched through half-lidded eyes as you knelt and crawled under the table, the brief sight of your ass enough to harden his neglected cock. he unzipped his pants, not having the patience for the teasing you, for sure, had in mind.

“getting hasty?” you teased, and law moved in his chair, pressing his crotch closer to where — he guessed — your face was.

“get on with it,” he bit back, searching for the back of your head.

when law did find it, he froze. under his palm was the familiar texture of his hat. the thought of having you wear it, with your face stuffed with his cock, made him desperate. a shambles followed-in-suit to a room, and the desk that had once hidden you from his glance was moved to the other side of the office, papers and pens and books falling over. law ignored the sound and the chaos, forcing your face against his covered erection, eyes trailed to that damned hat.

you pushed his underwear enough to free his cock from its cuffs; your hand gripping it before it had the chance to meet his abdomen. law all but shuddered, one hand gripping his chair as the other bruised the skin of your nape. your movements were slow at first. your thumb rolled over the tip and smeared his pre-cum over his shaft, causing his hips to buckle ever-so-slightly. before law could repeat his command, you moved forward, licking the essence coating his tip and encasing it in your mouth. law gasped, keeping his palm on your head and gritting his teeth at the warmth of your tongue.

“shit,” he cursed, biting the inside of his mouth to avoid louder noises, tasting the metal of blood.

your eyes narrowed, and he could see the resolve in them; the utter determination to tear him in pieces. you sucked, savoring the salty taste before beginning to slide down; another hand clawing down a clothed thigh. law huffed at the sight of you. your eyes had rolled with pleasure when you swallowed him down to the base, his hat secured on your head. with a jolt of overwhelming desire, law rolled his hips up to make you gag.

your head moved on its own, a futile attempt to free itself and retreat. he pushed it back, forcing your nose to brush against his pubes, witnessing the tears pooling in your eyes.

“you can take me,” he stated, hissing for a second at the swirling of your tongue. “you always do— ngh. take me so well, love.”

you hummed, relaxing for a second. law’s glance met yours, and his grip laxed at last, allowing you to take over. you popped off his tip with a gasp, mouth open, briefly regaining the lost air. your hand jerked his shaft, replaced by a sudden lick that traveled from the base to the head in one long stripe. you teased him with the sight of your cock against your hanging tongue; allowing his eyes the grace of his pre-cum latched on the warm muscle.

law trembled, his chest heaving at the swirling movements around his tip. “so gorgeous, make me wanna stuff you so bad, love.”

a whimper spilled from your lips before claiming his shaft yet again. law buckled his hips mid-shout, reprimanding himself for the sound. your hand gripped one of his balls, and the settled pace — with the bobbing of your head —, had him gasping.

he shoved himself down your throat, gripping the edge of his hat. saliva dripped down your opened mouth; hollowed cheeks increasing the pressure around his cock.

“that’s it,” he moaned, rolling his hips as his tip hit the back of your throat.

law felt the muffled whimper around his shaft, transfixed on the sight of your stuffed cheeks; the watery eyes that stared back into his. the room was filled with the erotic, borderline sinful, sounds of your gags; the constant bobbing of your head coating his cock with saliva. law buckled his hips, and your nails dug on his thigh, fingers tugging at the fabric of his pants as you audibly choked. with a harsh grip, he pulled your head back, giving you a few, precious seconds to breathe.

“look at you,” he voiced out in awe. “willing to empty your lungs for the sake of my pleasure.”

law guided his cock closer, fingers curling under his hat and nails digging into your head. “open up, love. just like that.”

your tongue darted out, and he slapped your cheeks with his tip, struggling to drown the urge to cum at the sound of your whimpers; the sight of you, following the movements of his cock with desperate-filled eyes, as though you could not wait to take him again. law placed himself at the entrance of your awaiting mouth, breathing out a moan.

“so pretty like that, all fucked up,” he mused, groaning once your lips claimed him yet again. “fuck, that mouth was made for me.”

the responding moan resonated around him, and law arched his back against the chair, feeling hot under the layers of his coat. his head latched itself on the back of your throat, and the harsh grip on his balls had him on edge. law’s voice sounded pathetic to his own ears when your tongue teased the underside of his dick, his movements growing hectic.

“i’m gonna cum,” he warned through a grunt, struggling to keep his eyes open and glued to your face.

you let out a muffled whimper, begging for it; your mouth nothing but a ruthless lover, swallowing him whole, yet demanding more. his hat fell from your head, and law lost his sense of self, whimpering at his release; his cum painting your throat white, stealing the breath from your lungs. law held you there, spasming with weakened and hectic thrusts throughout his orgasm, crumbling down to ruins as he bore witness to droplets of his essence escaping past the gaps of your stretched lips.

“let me see,” he mumbled, exhausted at the expanse of his own height.

with a teasing, edging suck, you pulled your head back with a pop. a stripe of saliva and cum connected his tip to your lips, and when you opened your mouth to spare him a sight of your whitened tongue, law’s fingers weakly gripped your chin, beckoning you closer.

dried blood lingered on the inside of his mouth, and mingled with the taste of his own seed. his teeth clashed against yours. a meek note of the coffee he drank priorly settled in between. yet, it was one of the best kisses he ever had.

“thank you,” law mumbled, an exhausted and dangling man nearing the edge of a lethal cliff. a soaring feather that remained tethered to the earth as a consequence of your tender grip.

you hummed, pressing a loving kiss to his cheek while zipping his pants. “cured enough to sleep, doctor?”

he smiled — enamored; sweet —, the particular showcase of teeth, born from the devotion directed towards you. the spark on his chest whose light was born from your mere presence. his hat clung to your figure, and law had half the mind to use his devil-fruit to teleport the both of you to his bed, before crumbling against the mattress, blindly searching for your chest.

law pressed his thigh against your core, lazily motioning for you to rub yourself against the fabric. a small giggle echoed through the walls, a sound he wished to steal and seal; a selfish shell of a man who had no desire to share a single thing related to his lover whatsoever.

“there’s no need for that. sleep,” you whispered, caressing his hair. law hugged your waist; drowned his face in your chest.

“want you to feel good,” law insisted, sleep-drunk, drooling on your bare flesh.

“too tired,” you voiced out matter-of-factly. whether he was the subject of such a statement or not, he failed to tell. law fell under the influence of slumber the second thereafter, sheltered in the confines of a loving dome whose barriers were sealed from the looming insomnia outside.

— 🐈‍⬛ : IT’S FUCKING LAW STUPID FRIDAY LET’S GO.

[ash-is-dying]

Temporary Tattoo

A/N: Felt compelled to write a quick blurb after drawing one of these on my own hand. Idk guys the delulu is really getting to me today. Anyway enjoy!

Shy!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 782

Fluffy / Mildy Spicy Blurb

---

“Just stay still Eddie!”

“But you’re taking forever!”

The pen runs over his knuckles as you outline the bones on his hand. You had spent the entirety of calculus at the back drawing on Eddie’s hand. He had breached the topic of getting a skeleton hand tattoo so you had made the generous offer to be his temporary tattoo artist.

His various rings had been scattered across the desk and the sleeve of his hellfire shirt had been rolled the full way up his arm exposing his actual tattoos alongside the detailed sketch on his left hand. You sat knee to knee with the boy as the arm you’re drawing with pins his arm to the table and the other holds his hand flat.

For someone who was covered in hidden tattoos you’re genuinely surprised by how much he moved while you were working and how whiney he was being about you taking too long.

“How long?”

“Eddie I haven’t even done your wrist yet. Chill your balls. We’ve still got half an hour anyway.”

He throws his head back and sighs deeply. His other hand starts to fidget, miming the chords for some metal song or another. His eyes close and he looks like a toddler who’s been denied chocolate from the shops. His head lolls to the side to look at you.

You’re completely oblivious to the look he gives you as he studies your concentrated face, biting your lip and your brows furrowed as you smoothed over the outlines you had drawn. Unbeknownst to you the real reason he was so all over the place wasn’t because the tattoo was taking too long.

It was because you were the one drawing it.

When you had started your gentle touches had left him flinching, moving towards your warm hands. Hence the need for physical restraint. Eddie’s cheeks flushed the moment you had wrestled his arm under yours, your closeness making his heart jump start. He could spend hours here just having you draw all over him. He’d let you fill every gap between his tats if it meant he could keep you like this.

The only reason he was now encouraging you to hurry was because he didn’t need the artist girl he’d been crushing on for months noticing the semi he was sporting. He had tried to slide further under the desk to make it less obvious but the hold you had on his arm was making things increasingly harder.

In both ways.

“I don’t think we need to do the wrist, just my hand is fine-” he said sharply.

“But didn’t you want a half-sleeve anyway? Thought you wanted me to try the whole tattoo.”

“As cool as that would be I kinda need my arm back sweetheart-” He says with an edge of panic in his voice.

“Okay okay, I’ll be done in ten.”

The next ten minutes were probably the longest ten minutes of his life.

For the fine detailing you had made the decision that you needed to get even closer. You had rotated his arm and had folded your leg over his, just adjacent to where he desperately needed you not to be. He watched anxiously as you shifted to finish off the tattoo. He genuinely tried to sink into his chair and disappear. If you had even a hint of what was happening under the desk he would be absolutely mortified.

“Why do you get so many tattoos Eds?”

Her sudden question pulls him out of his head. “Oh- um. I guess because they look cool? And they help me express a part of myself that I want to show people rather than tell them about.”

“Fair enough.” There’s a long pause. “Can I ask you something?”

Eddie’s brows raise in concern. “Yes?”

“Do you get this turned on for all your tattoo artists or just me?”

The silence is deafening as his eyes widen in shock and realization. He stutters as you move off of his lap unable to find the words. The bell goes and you begin to pack up your things not sparing him a glance until you put your hand on his shoulder and lean to whisper in his ear.

“If you ever need another tattoo done… call me okay.”

You give his cheek a quick peck as you turn away and walk out of the room with a flush on your face, leaving behind an extremely flustered and red faced Eddie. He looks down at his arm. It’s amazing of course. But what really catches his eye is the messily written phone number on the underside of his arm.

Maybe he will get another temporary tattoo.

[sluttyskullowner]

Stranger Things OC

OC INFO: ________

Name: Veronica Miles

Nickname(s): 'Onica, Vee, V.M.

Gender / Sex: Cis female (She/Her) Birthday: August Seventeenth (08/17)  

Sexuality: Bi-Sexual

Species: Human

Age: (Unless aged up) 16

Height: 5''4

Weight: 113 LBS

Occupation: Student

(Known) Relationships:

Max- Cousin

Faceclaim: (Attached)

Personality: Veronica is quite the average person, sort of kept-to-self in a way but she tries her best to go to social events, Veronica though is a very passionate person, being able to talk about things she enjoys is something that she loves doing, Veronica is very smart-- Mainly book smart.

Grades (A-F's): A's to B-'s

Likes: Sports, Magic, Literature, Music (R&B, Musicals, Alternative, Rock N' Roll, etc..), Fashion, DND, Exploring abandoned places, Ghosts, Reading, Writing, Art/ Drawing, Doing her makeup  Dislikes: Bullies, Bugs, Sharks, Violence, Snails, Anything slimy

Hobbies: Making music, Drawing/ Sketching, Playing DND, Bothering her cousin (Max), Writing stories in her notebooks

Favorite things: Food- Spicy Chicken wings Drink- Coca-cola Movie- The Outsiders Show- Seinfeld Artist- Queen Color- Peach Animal- Red Panda School Subject- ELA/ English Others- Veronica’s favorite compliment was when she was 8 years old and someone said to her; “Your eyes are beautiful, For they bless the things that have the luck of being seen by you”.

Habits: Drawing on jeans, making little stars on the blank spaces of her school work or just blank paper in general, playing with her hair a lot, fidgeting from anxiety, using gel pens to write anything.

STATS:

Speed: ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩ Technique: ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩ Strength: ★ ★ ✩ ✩ ✩  Intelligence: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ Power: ★ ★ ✩ ✩ ✩ Total: 16 Stars

Backstory: Veronica had a pretty wonky life, Her mother Angelica was very protective of her, clinging to her like a koala to a tree. Veronica wasn’t the type to argue so she didn’t complain, Her father left when she was young, around 3 years old which gave her mother very harsh trust issues, hence why she is so clingy. Veronica doesn’t have many friends, maybe 2 at most, Not including her cousin Max who has almost been a best friend, Her mother allows the two to have sleepovers whenever they want, Or to hang out in general sense Veronica lived in Georgia before moving to Hawkins. 

[interships-ulead]

Online Internship Strategies for Interns Success

The online internship program has come a long way, especially after the pandemic. However, this modality and student experience have evolved and grown to the point where they have become industry ready. 

While work-from-home internships with certificates came into the spotlight during the pandemic. As a result, it pushed millions of candidates to adapt to this approach to upskilling themselves. 

Since many big techs have started offering online internships to students, now is the time to make some adjustments for beginners before you hit your stride. Fortunately, you're not stuck figuring it out on your own. Here we offer tried-and-true tips, tricks, and strategies suggested by experts for online internship success to hit the ground running. They are :

1. Engage with mentors

It might seem like a given; after all, you're here to upskill, right? But for candidates without a physical place to go, many have trouble grasping the approach. This is why online interns must make a concerted effort to engage with their mentors in as many ways as possible.

Engaging with your boss on how to get on board with the work-from-home internship will help you understand the company's workflow. Since everything is online, you need to be actively present on zoom calls, skype, slack or more. Take the initiative to update your work in the groups to make people aware of the work progress. 

The more ties you can create between the coursework and your schedule, the better. Simply participate in available online activities and get to know your colleagues.

Just take some time at the beginning of an online internship to explore assigned readings and review them to understand what to expect from this internship.

2. Prepare for technical glitches

It's not a given, but technical issues happen. When a technical issue crops up, like a spotty internet connection, your device giving up the ghost, or even a simple power outage, you can almost bank on it happening during the worst possible time.

Usually, these issues happening is entirely outside of your control. What you can control is how proactive of an approach you're taking.

One way to solve this is to prepare ahead of time for your online meeting stated by an expert.

Don't hesitate to inform your boss if an unexpected technical issue has thrown you off track. Make sure you write an apology email for an abrupt leave from the online internship meeting. Therefore, have a dependable backup plan for internet issues and get ahead of every possible technical problem. A little bit of planning can save you some trouble.

3. Create a specific learning space

Do not overlook the value of having a solid workspace. A million potential distractions exist, and online internships require your undivided attention. Carving out a little chunk of space where you know you can keep the distractions to a minimum and work comfortably can be a big plus.

Discover a space at home where you can work and make it your own," says an expert. Spruce it up with photos, drawings, a pen, a table, and a chair, maybe even a fidget spinner or Rubik's Cube® for a small break.

4. Set aside time for unpaid or paid internships

Just like having physical space dedicated to online work, making space on your calendar for work and personal time is essential.

Construct a realistic daily schedule of when you plan to work. No matter how you decide to split the time up, the most critical piece is building that routine. If you want to do online work in the future, get used to it and make it work.

5. Ask for help

Even with the best intentions, we all lose track of time, get distracted or procrastinate from time to time. But help is available for interns looking to enhance their professional habits in their work-from-home internship.

Many interns struggle with procrastination. Therefore the solution for this is to discuss with your mentor to share some techniques regarding their procrastination habits.

Hence offline or online internship program is about making you well-versed in the corporate culture. So do not worry, an internship is all about trial and error.

Ready for the next step?

An online internship is a dynamic way to upskill yourself. It's also great for looking to upgrade your skills or change careers to advance your knowledge. Think you're ready to explore and earn an internship certificate? Check out what ULead has to offer interns to make industry ready https://www.ulead.in/.

[ulead]

Online Internship Strategies for Interns Success

The online internship program has come a long way, especially after the pandemic. However, this modality and student experience have evolved and grown to the point where they have become industry ready. 

While work-from-home internships with certificates came into the spotlight during the pandemic. As a result, it pushed millions of candidates to adapt to this approach to upskilling themselves. 

Since many big techs have started offering online internships to students, now is the time to make some adjustments for beginners before you hit your stride. Fortunately, you're not stuck figuring it out on your own. Here we offer tried-and-true tips, tricks, and strategies suggested by experts for online internship success to hit the ground running. They are :

1. Engage with mentors

It might seem like a given; after all, you're here to upskill, right? But for candidates without a physical place to go, many have trouble grasping the approach. This is why online interns must make a concerted effort to engage with their mentors in as many ways as possible.

Engaging with your boss on how to get on board with the work-from-home internship will help you understand the company's workflow. Since everything is online, you need to be actively present on zoom calls, skype, slack or more. Take the initiative to update your work in the groups to make people aware of the work progress. 

The more ties you can create between the coursework and your schedule, the better. Simply participate in available online activities and get to know your colleagues.

Just take some time at the beginning of an online internship to explore assigned readings and review them to understand what to expect from this internship.

2. Prepare for technical glitches

It's not a given, but technical issues happen. When a technical issue crops up, like a spotty internet connection, your device giving up the ghost, or even a simple power outage, you can almost bank on it happening during the worst possible time.

Usually, these issues happening is entirely outside of your control. What you can control is how proactive of an approach you're taking.

One way to solve this is to prepare ahead of time for your online meeting stated by an expert.

Don't hesitate to inform your boss if an unexpected technical issue has thrown you off track. Make sure you write an apology email for an abrupt leave from the online internship meeting. Therefore, have a dependable backup plan for internet issues and get ahead of every possible technical problem. A little bit of planning can save you some trouble.

3. Create a specific learning space

Do not overlook the value of having a solid workspace. A million potential distractions exist, and online internships require your undivided attention. Carving out a little chunk of space where you know you can keep the distractions to a minimum and work comfortably can be a big plus.

Discover a space at home where you can work and make it your own," says an expert. Spruce it up with photos, drawings, a pen, a table, and a chair, maybe even a fidget spinner or Rubik's Cube® for a small break.

4. Set aside time for unpaid or paid internships

Just like having physical space dedicated to online work, making space on your calendar for work and personal time is essential.

Construct a realistic daily schedule of when you plan to work. No matter how you decide to split the time up, the most critical piece is building that routine. If you want to do online work in the future, get used to it and make it work.

5. Ask for help

Even with the best intentions, we all lose track of time, get distracted or procrastinate from time to time. But help is available for interns looking to enhance their professional habits in their work-from-home internship.

Many interns struggle with procrastination. Therefore the solution for this is to discuss with your mentor to share some techniques regarding their procrastination habits.

Hence offline or online internship program is about making you well-versed in the corporate culture. So do not worry, an internship is all about trial and error.

Ready for the next step?

An online internship is a dynamic way to upskill yourself. It's also great for looking to upgrade your skills or change careers to advance your knowledge. Think you're ready to explore and earn an internship certificate? Check out what ULead has to offer interns to make industry ready https://www.ulead.in/.

[honey-hippie-harper]

Infrangible

AFGHSAGHJS THIS IS SO LATE IS NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE LMAO

In my defense, I stopped being a person long ago and now, in all the ways except physical, I happen to be a potato. BUT ANYWAY :’) This is for the Renegades Ship Week hosted by @greasicookies <3 (Thanks again!), for day 5, which is Maxpie. The prompt is “secrets”! <3

I had a tough time writing this because I’m going through a lot of stuff rn :’) still, I hope you can enjoy it x’ddd.

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @the-wee-woo-rita and afsghagshja @all-weather-is-bad (because this is a very...me fic lol and I think you’re already used to my sad attempt at humor haahahaah i’M SORRY AGSHJAKL) AND @lackadae because agshjs I made a reference to one of your drawings, hon :’) (I promise once again, to catch up with your content once I feel better afsghjak).

And that’s it. I hope you like it <3

When Max turned nine, he reached the conclusion that everybody forgot their early years at some point. Before, Adrian had already explained to him that wasn’t quite true, because he misunderstood Max’s statement and thought he was feeling bad about himself for not being able to recall certain things. He told him that, unlike what he thought –which was false because that’s not what Max meant- people usually couldn’t store those memories from when they were younger than three.

“Some people do.” He said. “But it’s normal if you don’t remember anything from when you were…I don’t know. Two.”

“Do you remember anything from when you were two?” Max asked him.

From the other side of the glass, Adrian scrunched up his nose. And then, obviously, he saw himself in the need to adjust his glasses.

“I’m not quite sure whether I was two or not. But I do know I was younger than five.” He started. “There was a small canal on the way to the apartment. When it rained, it would grow a lot. It didn’t have big torrents or anything, but it did grow a lot. The water usually went higher than my ankles. But the thing was…that every time  it grew, it became infested with turtles.”

He paused for a second.

“I really liked turtles.” He continued, shrugging. “My mother used to let me walk down to the water, as long as she was right behind me, obviously; one day, when we were coming back from the city, she stopped to attend a call. I got too impatient and went down alone when she wasn’t looking. The next thing I remember is that, just when I was getting up after catching a turtle, I felt her tugging me by the back of my shirt. The turtle fell on its shell.”

At that point, Max realized he had been staring at how he kept on fidgeting with his pen instead of looking him in the eye, but he continued doing so, because he didn’t like it when Adrian’s voice turned that serious.

“…She had never screamed at me like that.” He said, as if he were talking to himself and then, to erase the tension, he tried to scoff. “I don’t remember what she said, but I remember that she said it so loud I told her she was scaring the turtle. Then I started crying. Like, a lot. I think she was terrified too.”

In the end, everything turned too quiet for his liking, and Max did something his dad had advised him to do for times like these, when he just didn’t know what came next: Improvise.

“I didn’t know you liked turtles.”

“…Well, I did. I really liked turtles when I was younger.”

Max had seen a couple of turtles in his life, but not as many as Adrian had seen, he supposed, because Max had never stepped outside, except when he was a baby.

Which was exactly the point.

He didn’t have memories from when he was a baby, or a toddler. Most of the people who had come to talk to him had said they remembered events that were either too sad (like Adrian) or meaningful in their lives. Max didn’t have anything like that. In fact, his first –very blurry- memory was standing on the edge of the quarantine, with his hands pressed against the crystal, and then licking it.

According to his dads, he was between three and four (“He was three, Simon. What are you talking about?” “He was born in November.” “It wasn’t November yet.” “We had just celebrated his birthday. He was four.” “HE WASN’T FOUR, SIMON! HE WAS THREE! THREE! We were celebrating that his quarantine had just been built!” “IT WAS THE SAME EVENT, HUGH!”) and Aunt Tamaya, plus the both of them, were in the hallway. For some reason, the fact that his eyes were so huge (they were still big. But they were bigger when he was a baby) came off as odd to Tamaya. And the moment they made eye contact, he licked the glass.

Nobody knew why. Not even himself. The adults remembered it better than he did, of course, but none of them had ever been able to guess the reasoning behind it. They often expressed Max had been a very strange baby, mostly because of his lack of social skills. It’s not like he had chosen that, and it’s not like his fathers would’ve allowed it to happen if they had had any other option. But Max wasn’t willing to stand there and pretend that he knew what he was doing, either.

Most of the time, he didn’t.

He barely held any memories of the nurses that had ever been in charge of his care, but, for obvious reasons, he remembered Dad. It was always easier to remember the person who had taken care of you the most, he supposed. And Max knew, among a lot of things, that it wasn’t his other dad’s fault. Though, sometimes, he couldn’t help but blame him.

Again, he didn’t know why, but there were those days, when he needed he the most, where a voice inside of his head told him that, if Simon loved him enough, he would just sacrifice his powers to be with him. His powers weren’t that useful for combat anyway.

“Okay, but that’s kinda mean.” Adrian told him the first time he opened up about it, the night before he attended the Trials to choose the members of his patrolling team. “Pops might not have combat powers, but they’re as important as the rest of the members’. That’s why they work so well as a team, you know? Every power can be extremely helpful during a battle, as long as you know how to use it.”

Max wasn’t doing anything in particular that day. Nothing besides listening to Adrian and sitting on the floor , at least.

“But if every power is useful…” He said, tilting his head to the side. “…Why are you allowed to reject certain aspirants?”

Adrian frowned a little, not in the sense that he looked angry at Max. Rather, he was confused by the question and was trying to word the answer in a way that sounded rational.

“Because…” He gulped and clicked his tongue. “…Like I said…uhm…the Council is an extremely good team. They’ve been doing this for a while. Us, the patrolling leaders are…allowed to reject certain prodigies because we don’t have as much experience as them. And…we might not know how to use somebody’s powers, and that’s very dangerous. We don’t want people dying, do we?”

When he said that, something clicked inside Max’s brain, and he nodded in automatic. Obviously, a few years ago, a non-prodigy teacher had taught him how to read, and the moment Adrian notified him it was his year to be in the Trials, he managed to read the manual and the rules for the event, from a booklet and a pamphlet (respectively) he had asked his dad to bring for him. He didn’t get much new information, different from the one he heard on TV or the one presented in the posters. However, amongst the rules, there was a section that talked about banned powers, which contained only two categories:

-Complete telekinesis.

-Stardust modelling.

“Yeah.” Dad told him. He was bathing him in the quarantine’s bathroom (Of course. Where else?). “Stardust catchers…which….are able to model stardust, are extremely dangerous and there’s not much research about them. Nobody really knows how they work, and it would be pretty difficult for us to… handle a prodigy like that.”

“Like me.”

Dad had always had a pretty specific routine he had to follow when bathing him. If he missed or misplaced a step, he acted like would explode or something. Also, Max didn’t understand why, but ever since he started growing thicker hair, Dad became pretty strict on the fact they should take care of it so it would grow healthy. Hence why they had a full hair routine that they did in the bathtub. That day, the statement caught him so off-guard he grabbed the wrong bottle, and then, when he realized it, he was already pouring the dense liquid (that looked more like a paste to him) on Max’s head. Cursing under his breath, he placed his other hand in the middle so it would fall over his palm, washed Max’s head and started the routine all over again, before changing the subject:

“About complete telekinesis…there’s obviously a lot of research about that power. We know how to manage with that. But telekinetic prodigies are not …very accepted in our society. They’re pointed at…Frowned upon. In the worst of cases, other prodigies hunt them down and then kill them.”

In that moment, Max came to the conclusion that all that changing the subject thing had been in vain.

Because, from his part, the answer was exactly the same:

“Like me.”

And Dad didn’t like that, for he started scratching his scalp harder, accidentally.

“No. It’s nothing like you.” He said. “You’re not like that, Max. Society hates telekinesis because some evil dude decided to use his powers, his telekinesis, for awful reasons and stained prodigy’s names. You’re not like that. You’re not abusive, or selfish or evil. And I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to him ever again. Understood?”

To this day, that was the most aggressive form of validation someone had ever given him, but Max took it anyway, because he trusted Dad, and if he had said something like that, then there had to be a clear reason behind it.

“Understood.” He whispered.

And he tried, he really tried, to believe it. But, like many other things, no matter how hard Max tried, he was still severely confused. Not that he didn’t know about the Age of Anarchy, or the parties involved in the Age of Anarchy.

The quarantine, needless to say, could get pretty boring most of the time. Max had to do a lot of things to kill time, and some of those activities involved reading books that children shouldn’t be reading. He did read some children’s books, but then he would find himself looking through history articles and books, and reading the chapters that interested him the most. For instance, he was confident he knew about the Age of Anarchy, but one thing was knowing about it, and another, different thing, was having an opinion about in regards to it.

Max didn’t know if he had something to say about the topic. If he did, it was a very incomplete idea, and it was very likely he wouldn’t be able to phrase it correctly.

The group of people Max talked the most to were adults, and those adults, especially the ones who had experienced the Age of Anarchy and somehow managed to make it out alive, refused to talk about it. As for the few children he had talked to…

Well, about them…

Long story short, they had lives.

They all had lives outside of a glass, unlike Max. Maybe they weren’t the most interesting of lives, but at least they for sure had to be more interesting than his’. They didn’t have a pre-established schedule, where a designated person would come in to feed him or extract blood samples from his body, to then take them to the laboratory. They didn’t have to hear a total of seven alarms to remind him what he had to do: Wake up and get dressed, have breakfast and brush his teeth, enter the virtual sessions with his teachers, take a shower, have his blood samples taken,  start doing his homework –if he had any- and do whatever he wanted once he was finished, have dinner, brush his teeth and go to bed, and then start all over again.

That moment, when he had spare time, would be the same one normal kids used to go out with their friends, like Adrian did. To go to the park and get themselves a scarily huge wound at the center of their knee. To live. To breathe air. To do…literally anything that wasn’t this.

Because Max was different from the many children he hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to meet or talk to, because, obviously, they wouldn’t want to spend the whole day hanging out with a person…like him.

The only way Max could see two out of the three people in his family was through a crystal wall. And he couldn’t kiss them, he couldn’t touch them… sometimes he even wondered if he knew how their voices sounded, because, after all, Dad’s voice sounded the tiniest bit different once he crossed that infamous glass door.

He couldn’t walk through the streets of Gatlon, because, for starters, he didn’t know them. And if he dared to go out there, he would get killed on spot for having accidentally neutralized a prodigy who didn’t want to be neutralized.

Other kids had nannies whom they complained about when their parents couldn’t look after them (at least that’s the kind of things he saw on the TV shows he watched) but Max had patrol units that would move from one corner of the room to another, ready to attack anyone who came closer than necessary to him, because the only one who could take care of him in person, was Hugh.

Other kids could go out freely, without being scared of anything at all. They could get hurt while having fun with their friends and family. They could laugh until they cried with them. They could hug them, sleep in the same bed as them. They could walk their pets, go on road trips, go to amusement stores, water parks…

They could experience the current world; watch all the new events that were happening every day, in first hand.

They didn’t have to read about the past, or the people from the past to keep themselves entertained. They didn’t have the need to do that. At all.

They were living the lives Max couldn’t have, because he was too dangerous for that.

And obviously, that’s why he couldn’t just…go around asking other kids about what was their favorite bug, their favorite planet…or their opinions about Ace Anarchy, and if Pops (Simon) saying “Alec, with an A as in Abusive Swine” made them laugh.

Besides, he hadn’t even met that many kids his age. Or kids, for that matter.

He was aware Adrian wasn’t exactly a grown up, but he wasn’t a kid either, so, he usually didn’t make it into that list.

In fact, just like the banned powers in that manual, there were only two kids in Max’s list of acquaintances.

Aunt Tamaya’s first baby was born without powers, when Max was like four years old, and his dads were way too excited about it (Weird thing to brag about out loud, honestly, because all the recruits in the Headquarters were betting ridiculous amounts of money on which powers the Thunderbaby would have –Max could hear them- and one day they just heard The Dread Warden storming into the hallway, euphorically screaming “GUESS WHAT, MY LITTLE CHERUB BABY? YOUR COUSIN IS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING POWERLESS!”), for they thought Max would finally be able to have a friend who was more or less his age. Dad was the one who brought him in, two weeks after he was born. He was still tiny, red and chubby, and wrapped in his three different blankets that way, he looked like a bloated marshmallow.

Aunt Tamaya, her husband, Pops, Adrian, Aunt Kasumi and Uncle Evander were outside (as always) waiting to see what happened…and, it was extremely odd for Max to admit it, but he couldn’t remember much about that moment, even though he was already older than three. There was, however, a video taken by Uncle Evander where, if you narrowed your eyes hard enough, you could see the moment Max burst into tears right after kissing the baby’s cheek.

Neil was his friend.

At least, Max considered him to be his friend. Still, they had an age gap of four whole years, and a part of him was waiting until he was a little older so they could be on the same page. Because sometimes, when Neil couldn’t comprehend something semi-important that Max had just said, things could get pretty awkward, because there were occasions when, if Neil got too frustrated over anything, he would start crying, and his sobs often summoned his mother all the way from across the building. She never particularly tried to put the blame on Max. In fact, she hadn’t even glared at him not once, ever.

But she did choose to take him with her, into her office, or ask Adrian to babysit him while he calmed down.  Afterwards, he usually didn’t come back to the quarantine.

“It’s not your fault, Max.” Pops would tell him, always. “It’s just that…Neil...he’s younger than you. There are things that might be…easy to you, but that are super complicated to him. And you might be able to do things that he can’t, and he can’t understand why he can’t, so he gets super confused and angry and that’s why he cries and Tamaya has to come and comfort him.”

“That, and because she’s like a...very freaky bird mom who hears her children cry and comes around with her super sonic enhanced sense of hea—“

“Hugh, don’t be rude.”

Every time they had that discussion in front of him, Max could never understand why Pops said Dad was being rude. He was right, to a certain extent. Aunt Tamaya was just…being a mom.

And that’s what moms did.

At least, that’s what Max had read and seen on TV because families like his’ were…super rare to find in his cartoons or favorite books. In fact, the times when he had seen himself represented in any of the things were so few that, for the longest time, Max had this weird, messed up idea that biological men could give birth. He thought that Adrian, apart from the fact that he was the closest to him, looked more similar to Simon, and that had to mean he had given birth to him, while Hugh had been the one to give birth to Max.

One year, when Max was six, they finished Lady Indomitable’s gigantic golden statue, placed downtown. It was late June, and though the city had previously looked covered in colors, that day it just looked…white and golden. That’s the best way Max  could find to put it into words.

According to Max’s weather application, the heat was unbearable that day (good thing he couldn’t feel anything because the temperature in the quarantine was always regulated) yet, according to what he was seeing in one of his screens, a great percentage of the citizens of Gatlon were marching in the streets carrying floating lanterns, headed towards downtown where the event was being held.

The Council was standing in front of the covered statue. All of them except Blacklight, who had stayed to take care of the Headquarters, and Max could see him from where he was. They gave a speech about Lady Indomitable together, and as they started revealing the statue, Tsunami sang a song that was supposed to be one of Lady Indomitable’s favorite ones, and that Max was too young to recognize (he supposed). In his opinion, it was a cute event, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t utterly confused the moment he saw Adrian taking one step ahead to be the first one to let go of his floating lantern, which was different from the other ones, because his’ was bigger, and it had a big “I”. Besides, people waited a couple of seconds until it was stable above their heads to let go of their own floating lanterns.

It still looked cute to him, but now it looked weird as well. So he got up from his chair, and walked towards the edge, pressing his hands against the glass. He hoped that would be enough to magically catch Evander’s attention, who was, at the moment, using his chair as a swing, as he typed a number in his computer, copying it from his calculator and eating from his salad every now and then. Obviously, Max’s telepathic call wasn’t enough, and he had to knock on the glass a couple of times, loudly. Even then, Uncle Evander didn’t look up in his direction.

But he did hear him, because he did respond.

“It’s not gonna work, Maximus. I’m not getting you out.”

As a side note, Max considered telling him his full name was Maximilian and not Maximus, because that was way before he realized it was a nickname. Nevertheless, he just let it pass, for the simple reason he had better things to ask. That’s why he proceeded to knock again, instead of speaking.

“What is it?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

Evander tried to steady himself in the chair without falling on his back, and once he succeeded, he came closer to the quarantine, with his arms over his hips.

“Why is Adrian doing that?” He asked, just because he wasn’t able to find another way to phrase it, while pointing at the screen behind him; Evander narrowed his eyes following his finger, as if he hadn’t been watching the event himself from a livestream on his phone. A few seconds later, he seemed to realize what he was talking about, and bit his upper lip, before pouting barely a little.

Then, he clicked his tongue.

“Because that’s his mom. And today’s her birthday.”

And it’s not that Max was insensitive enough not to recognize that it was very sad, but at the same time those single words were enough to make the idea he had of his life fall apart. All the things he thought he had already managed to understand felt fake and incorrect, and it was so fast it almost made him feel dizzy.

“She’s not his mom.” He declared.

Evander opened his eyes very widely and, next thing he knew, was that, for some reason, he looked nervous. Which, to say the least, was very…unlike Evander. He was usually super…confident, and, in Dad’s words: “He walks with his back too straight for a person who says some dumb shit every time he opens his mouth”.

At that moment, his back wasn’t straight at all, and he kept on wiping the sweat off his palms in the suit.

“…I mean…she’s not…alive anymore. But… that doesn’t mean that…”

“Noooo. I didn’t mean that.” Max cut him off. “She’s not her mom, because Adrian already has a mom.”

He stopped suddenly. Max could almost see his brain working at full speed, trying to process the data he had just received. Then, he blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“Who’s…who’s his mom?” He asked, getting closer to the crystal, and crouching down to be at Max’s height (Evander was almost too tall for his own sake). “Do Simon or Hugh…?”

“No. I mean she’s not his mom because Simon’s his mom.” Max stated, confident enough to move a mountain with his raw determination and his bare hands, which, needless to say, did nothing but make Evander even more confused.

Not that Max couldn’t understand why.

He was a brand new, redeemed person now.

But back then he wasn’t.

“…Simon is what, you said?”

“Adrian’s mom.” Max reaffirmed.

Still bewildered, Evander gawked. Perhaps he understood where that confusion was coming from but, at the same time, maybe he was too disturbed to ask for additional information. Max didn’t know which one of the two would make him feel more embarrassed, especially taking into account the next thing Evander said:

“That is the weirdest shit somebody has ever said to me, and I’ve talked to the Puppeteer an unhealthy amount of times.”

He wasn’t the one who explained to him the way his own family worked. On the contrary, he immediately told his dads about it, and next time the both of them came to talk to him, they tried to make him understand the concept of homosexual couples.

And they failed.

Miserably.

And he was using that term, because after that talk, Max went through life for a while saying that his ethnicity was Gay, because both of his dads were gay. Over and over again, they tried to correct him, but nothing seemed to work, and Max kept on spreading the information that he was gay (something he didn’t know yet) until Aunt Kasumi decided to intervene and, for his birthday, she got him a children’s book called All in Rainbow, which, according to the information in the first page, was actually a translation from a Latin American book written by two lesbians (one of them non-binary) and illustrated by the same woman who had made the Anarchists’ and the Renegades’ graphic novels and was also a Latina.

That book was something similar to a gay encyclopedia. It was narrated by this girl named Phoenix, because it followed her throughout her school and her daily life, where she came across different people and families. After every short story, there was an informative section explaining everything in regards to the new person’s identity, including their flag, the meaning of said flag, and the explanation of certain terms. Max really enjoyed it, and, in fact, he ended up going through it more than once. When he tried to persuade Adrian into reading it too, he admitted he already had, when he was younger,  and proceeded to make a comment about how pretty the name “Phoenix” was.

It was only then that Max was able to understand how his own family worked, and how freaking inept he had sounded when he decided it was a great idea to use it as an ethnicity.

That book was, in fact, the cue for all the grown ups in his life to start buying books for him, which he was grateful for, except for the one that he, ironically enough, had gotten from Uncle Evander. Sure, he appreciated that he had spent money on that,  but Max didn’t appreciate the fact that the plot was about a dog that was sent away to a school for dogs but made everyone believe he was in jail so he could escape. The drawings were cute, but he just couldn’t find the moral of the story and he didn’t like that.

His dads, from their part, got him a book about two frogs that, at least to Max, acted as if they were a couple; Aunt Tamaya was the one of the short books without drawings.

As for Aunt Kasumi…she usually brought a lot of educational books; every time she overheard him expressing something that was making him confused, she brought him a book about it, including that time she heard him asking Ruby Tucker “So, are you always bleeding?” completely out of context.

Max supposed that it had a lot to do with the fact that Aunt Kasumi was in charge of Child Services, and she spent a lot of time with children, especially because she liked to volunteer in orphanages, having been in one herself when she was a little girl. She usually moved in prodigy orphanages, for she was one to know the poor conditions they sometimes presented.

And…to say the least, she wasn’t a woman of many words. She was very reserved with everything she did. And, besides, it was none of Max’s business. After all, he was just a kid.

But, in this case, it kind of involved him.

Kind of.

For the simple reason that there were two names in the list of people his age Max had talked to. The first one was Neil (who wasn’t even his age. He was just close to that) and the second one…

The second one involved Aunt Kasumi.

Just like people were able to overhear his conversations through the quarantine, Max was able to overhear the conversations they were having on the outside, especially when he was trying to do it on purpose.

Every time he was too bored, in other words.

Some of the things older people said were confusing, but, over time, Max had learned to store that information, so he could comprehend it better in the future. He didn’t know at what level that was healthy, yet he still did it because, literally, he didn’t have anything better to do.

During extremely busy days, the Council chose to spend the night in the Headquarters, just in case, and while they could sleep in the common room, if Pops was too insistent on wanting to be close to the quarantine, they slept in the hallway.

In Max’s hallway.

Of course, Dad would sleep with him inside the quarantine but, in order to make it feel more like a pajama party, they slept close to the edge of the “room” (if it could be called that way), so close to the Councils’ inflatable beds, they could’ve touched them if there hadn’t been a wall in between.

When they were sleeping in that hallway, there wasn’t a patrol looking over Max, because they were the patrol and, every two hours, they changed turns to stay awake. All of them except Dad, who stayed the entire night with Max. The others often got up and started walking around the quarantine according to their ages. That is, Aunt Tamaya went first, followed by Pops, then Aunt Kasumi, and Uncle Evander at the end. However, since it wasn’t like they were too used to having many hours of sleep, Kasumi and Evander usually got up at the same time and patrolled together.

That night, Max was having trouble sleeping. Dad was hugging him, which made him feel very comfortable, but, at the same time, before he wrapped his arms around him, he had been moving way too much, and that had made Max feel uneasy, because a part of him, though he knew it was highly possible it wasn’t true, was feeding the annoying worm at the back of his brain that told him he was the one making Dad uneasy. That Dad was moving and couldn’t sleep because he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Pops. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Adrian, even. Anyone but Max.

Which, again, he knew things…weren’t like that. But that little, nameless, uninvited worm was always telling him that, over and over again, determined to repeat those awful words until they made so much noise they made him cry.

And even then, when he was already crying, the worm ate deeper into his brain and told him to stop because, in the end, who was he crying for anyway?

Who was he crying for, if nobody was here to see or hear him?

That night, of course, he didn’t cry, for the simple reason that…well, he did have somebody who would hear him cry, and maybe comfort him like Aunt Tamaya comforted Neil when he was crying…

But he didn’t want Dad to do that.

Not today.

Not because he were mad at him, but because he feared that, if he did, then Dad would be the one who would get mad.

Besides, that night he got extremely busy trying to overhear the conversation between Kasumi and Evander who, the moment they got up, started talking as they walked, first at a volume so low their voices could’ve been considered murmurs, but then, with every second, the issue started escalating.

And it wasn’t that they were arguing, it was that they weren’t exactly happy with each other, nor did they seem to manage to get to a mutual agreement.

Max felt like that time he was watching a movie with his earphones on, and instead of paying attention to the plot, he kept trying to identify which sounds were dominant in his left ear, and which ones were dominant in his right ear, because Uncle Evander and Aunt Kasumi were walking around the quarantine, and the echoes of their voices were floating right behind them, making it almost impossible for Max to decipher their messages word by word.

At least, until they stopped in front of him. That is, very close to the inflatable mattresses, too. And with just one eye open, he was able to tell Aunt Kasumi wasn’t amused, with her arms so tight across her chest that way, and with Uncle Evander standing more straight than necessary (because, yes, Dad was right about that...sometimes... because Max had read somewhere that tall people had to be really careful with their posture to avoid spine deformities or have less complications when they were older) waving his –as Aunt Tamaya would’ve called them- Hot Cheeto fingers right in front of her face, in a way so aggressive she sometimes had to lean backwards not to get one of her eyes poked out.

“…and it won’t look good for the organization. It won’t look good, Kasumi. You know why?”

“Yes, Vandy. I know why. I already knew before, yet you took the time to explain it to me another seven times. I mean, thank you, I guess, but—“

“If I kept on explaining it to you, it’s because I didn’t…and I don’t know what’s not clicking.”

“What do you mean with what’s not clicking?” And she tilted her head to the side. “…Are you still talking to me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kasumi. Especially not in front of me, because I know you.”

“Right. But I still don’t get what you’re referring to. What’s not clicking about what, exactly?”

Evander laughed in a way Max would’ve just…understood if she had decided to punch him in the face so he would stop.

“We’re a big organization, Kasumi. People talk.”

“Of course that people talk. I mean, our citizens support our cause and our government system. In fact, statistically, more than half of the population do, but sometimes there are things that… are for their own good but they will refuse to understand and accept them anyway. And that’s normal. We might be the law, but we can’t control how the masses think, you know?”

“For their own good, you say. Beneficial.”

“Exactly.”

“Beneficial for who, if you’d be so kind?” Evander laughed again. “As far as I understand, we’re talking about one single problem, from a single person. It won’t bring anything beneficial, as you call it, for our organization, or for our system…if anything, it will damage it and make us lose credibility.”

“…Why?”

As a response, he started flapping his arms around, as if he were trying to point at something invisible. Or at something that wasn’t really there.

And this time, Aunt Kasumi didn’t try to pretend she was seeing it, and remained silent until Evander realized he would have to make himself understood.

“Because…” He clenched his fists, sighing loudly, almost like he was certain he was right and Aunt Kasumi wasn’t. “Our policy. Remember that? You know, a thing that actually exists and you helped write?”

She didn’t respond.

“Our policy as Renegades, it’s that we shall keep our people safe, and that includes prodigy and non-prodigy citizens. We shall preserve their lives no matter the cost, and create a safe environment where all can coexist and protect each other. That means that no prodigy individual with questionable reasons is to be allowed to cross that gate and disturb the peace or, worse, put somebody’s life at risk.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes, you should be, because we wrote it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Evander, please. There’s no need to curse or—“

“…But you know what that means? It means that we can’t just…go against that policy and expect our citizens, our recruits, even, to still take us seriously.”

“Oh, but I’m following that policy because, as you might remember, we also pledged to assist anyone whose life was at risk, and people who, day by day, have to live under very vulnerable circumstances. It is our job to intervene and take them to a safer place, where their quality of life can improve, isn’t it?”

“It is, but that applies for people who aren’t dangerous to society.”

At that point, Max had both his eyes open, and he was seeing the scene more clearly.

In fact, everything was so clear, that he was able to read the confusion in Aunt Kasumi’s expression, even before she said:

“…This is a kid we’re talking about.”

“She is dangerous.”

“She’s not dangerous, Evander. She's a kid. Sure, her behavior has caused her to go bouncing from orphanage to orphanage like a rubber ball but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be helped, that doesn’t mean we should just turn our backs at her, and that doesn’t mean she’s dangerous.”

“You know damn well her behavior’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I am, because that’s the only thing that should concern us at the moment.”

“No, it’s not?”

“It is. Because she’s a kid…and, honestly, Vandy…” Aunt Kasumi sighed. “… I know we were raised thinking life is war, but… the truth is, people are not born evil. Or dangerous, for that matter. Take your time and think about it, and  you can talk to me again once you’ve calmed down, because you must be pretty much aware I don't appreciate this tone. Besides, it’s not like this little argument is going to stop me anyway.” She shrugged.

“…after all, I already talked to Hugh.”

“…And what did he say?”

“It’s not my place to tell you that. Ask him.”

Max never knew whether he had taken that suggestion or not but, knowing Evander, he just assumed he hadn’t. And, to be honest, he never asked Dad about it either. He just stood and watched how everything proceeded to go down and chaos unleashed.

Though, he had to admit, unlike what had happened with other “big” events, this one specific chaos was rather discrete. A kind of well-kept secret.

In fact, the only explicit hint that something would happen in the next few days, was the little disturbance caused by Team Frostbite (it was always Team Frostbite. Max had no idea why everyone was so…willing to put up with their…issues so much, and without hesitation) when it was their turn to patrol around the quarantine and Evander came around, holding his notepad, and muttered something to them.

“Whom?!” Genissa Clark, Frostbite, snapped immediately.

Evander frowned and, judging by the way his moustache moved, he also pouted, before turning at Mack Baxter, Aftershock, to start talking to him instead.

“Do you have any idea of what she’s talking about?” He clicked his tongue. “Like…okay, nevermind…”

When Max looked up, he saw the exact moment when Evander realized he was listening to the conversation, so he lowered his tone once again.  Yet, Max was still able to see the million ways in which Genissa Clark's face contorted and, in the end, the first second Evander shut his mouth, she declared:

“We’re not available for that. Perhaps that task should be assigned to Team Sketch or Team Peregrine. They’re always lollygagging around, it’s about time they get some real responsibi—“

“That’s a no, then. Alright. Thanks for your cooperation, Team Frostbite. Or, lack of, more likely. Do better next time, okay?”

If Max wanted to be honest with himself, it hadn’t taken him much time to realize he wasn’t fond of any of the members in Team Frostbite. Or Frostbite herself. In fact, he considered her to be almost insufferable, and, again, he couldn’t quite understand why they were allowed to boss everybody around. To a certain extent, they reminded him of the popular kids (who were also bullies) in every movie he had ever watched. They weren’t nice. Not even likeable.

Maybe Max was just very specific on the type of people he liked.

Or maybe he liked everyone and their mom, except Team Frostbite, because he didn’t know any better than that, while  at the same time he knew better than liking Team Frostbite.

But he didn’t know better than liking Margaret White, because…well…

She hadn’t done anything particularly awful for him to have an opinion as strong as Uncle Evander’s about her.

She came on a Friday.

Not that she exclusively came to talk to him.

She, in fact, arrived alongside Aunt Kasumi, who was wearing her civilian clothes –High-waisted jeans and a baby blue shirt, damp with sweat because it was hot outside- and kept leaving her car key on every table that came across her, before coming back to it to grab them.

At first, Max wasn’t able to see Margaret very well, mostly because he was distracted with his online classes, and she was taken straight to Dad’s office, along with Adrian’s entire team. And though Max didn’t see much, he was able to catch a glimpse on how Adrian kept on trying to grab her hand, and she insisted on pulling away.

At some point, he had read about that too.

The Renegades accepted recruits from ages 14 and up, talking about patrolling. However, they had a child protection program, where, basically, they assisted orphan prodigy children with behavioral issues or, though only few people liked to admit it, potential to be a part of the organization when they were older. Adrian didn’t like it and, strangely enough, out of everyone, Evander didn’t like it either. Nevertheless, Evander was one to get more aggressive when it came to child recruitment, which, thankfully, wasn’t common at all.

In fact, those cases were so rare, that they referred to them as “exceptions”. After all, children were not allowed into the Trials. As far as Max knew, they weren’t placed in patrol units. On the contrary, they were given small positions in the organization, and their paychecks were directed to their respective savings account, something that Pops was in charge of. However, they could use that money for their personal needs or something they wanted to buy, as the few children recruits resided in orphanages around Gatlon and went back there after their shift was over. Max supposed that sometimes their caretakers refused to buy them something because it wasn’t good for their health and it must be very satisfying to tell them it was their money (That’s what Adrian always did when Dad refused to buy something for him).

(That, or he went and asked Pops for that same thing).

Usually, they could have cash withdrawals just by presenting their Renegade Recruit ID because, obviously, they didn’t have an official ID yet.

And not only that. The children recruits were assigned a patrol unit with older members to look after them, or help them with anything they needed. Taking into account the conversation he had overheard, he supposed that duty had fallen on Adrian’s team (A theory that was later confirmed to be true by Adrian himself).

They were never left unsupervised, just like Max.

The day Margaret arrived, for a couple of minutes, maybe hours, Max was submerged in his own little world, and in the assignment his last teacher had told him to do. It was just him, his colored pencils, his paper sheets, his notes, his head, his hands, and the miniature planet Earth that his quarantine supposed, against the real world that he had never stepped on.

But every now and then, a little piece of the unknown, mysterious real world came running to his encounter and talked to him, sometimes in the most sudden, unsolicited way.

Sometimes it was Dad opening the door without calling. Sometimes it was Adrian pressing a new drawing against the crystal. Sometimes it was Pops, making a little “Psst” sound to get his attention.

Sometimes it was three little knocks, and the girl that was producing them with her knuckles.

Back then, Margaret’s hair was longer, to the point where she could tie it in a high ponytail, decorated with a blue bow, which combined with his orphanage uniform: A white polo, with the institution’s symbol by the right side of her chest, beneath a cobalt blue skirt with suspenders, long white socks and black scholar shoes.

He saw her and recognized she was real the first time, but Max still gave himself a couple of seconds to grasp the fact that she was really there.

Well, not there-there.

That she was there, as in, through the glass.

And she was calling him, even if she wasn’t saying anything. In fact, she was just there, eating from a chocolate bar with puffed rice. Her free hand was still over the glass.

And she was waiting.

So, he figured he didn’t want to keep her waiting anymore, and leaving his task and his tools behind, Max walked in her direction. And like it always happened, he stopped right before bumping his forehead against the hard, translucent surface.

Margaret took another bite from her chocolate, with an arched eyebrow, but she said nothing. From afar, Max hadn’t been able to really appreciate her features, but now that he was closer, he realized she was taller than him; her small, brown eyes were making her lashes look bigger; her black hair looked thicker and he was able to conclude that her skin tone was more or less like Pops’, maybe a little darker. She had a mark over her cheek, and at first Max thought it was a mole or a birthmark…until, of course, he realized that moles weren’t (or, at least, shouldn’t be) purple, and realized it was a bruise.

He didn’t ask her about it. Adrian had once told him that there were people who might not want to talk about their bruises or open wounds, not because the stories behind them were painful to tell, but because they were too embarrassing and telling embarrassing stories was an inconvenience.

“…well… now that I think about it…” He said right after. “…That’s not it. No. Not really. Sometimes your wounds’ backstories are painful. Or sometimes…you just want to keep them a secret, you know? And secrets are…sort of important.”

He believed every word.

Hence why, instead of saying something too nosy about that bruise, a little slowly at first, Max started lifting his hand up, until he reached the spot where Margaret’s was, and pressed his palm there. When she stared at his palm in confusion, Max clarified:

“Hugh five. You know?" Max giggled a little." As in… the Captain? Hugh? ...No?"

She didn’t laugh. And that was odd because Adrian would’ve.

Margaret wasn’t Adrian, sadly. And, it seemed to be, she hadn’t had an older sibling to tell her that some things just…weren’t adequate as icebreakers to start a conversation. Because, like Adrian had said, there were certain things other people might not want to talk about.

“Are you sick?” She directly asked.

Max was still “pressing” his hand against hers.

Gulping hard, he felt his throat boiling hot, almost as if it were growing blisters.

“No.” He said in a hoarse voice. “Why?”

Not pulling away either, Margaret said:

“The other day, Sister Malinda brought a very tiny baby into the orphanage. They were so small they had to take them to the medical wing.” She took another bite from her chocolate, and kept on speaking with her mouth full. “I sneaked out of my room to see them, and they were inside this little glass box that helped  keeping them alive. Sister Tam told me so.”

Max kept quiet for a while. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have a little curiosity about the name, but Margaret solved everything that had to be solved even if he didn’t ask her to.

“Sister Tam was named after Thunderbird. She’s younger than the other nuns.”

He guessed so.

Aunt Tamaya’s real name had been revealed to the general public on the 13th year into the Age of Anarchy, when she reappeared after being away for months thanks to an accident that involved Queen Bee and a cliff or something like that (Max couldn’t quite understand it, and Aunt Tamaya couldn’t remember much about it either. If she did, then she just didn’t desire to talk about it). It wasn’t a fun anecdote or anything like that but, according to his dads, the name Tamaya topped the lists for the most female-assigned names for at least a year, and the same thing happened in the 20th year into the Age of Anarchy...however, by the time she was buried, the world didn’t know Lady Indomitable’s real name, and for an entire month, people used Regina instead of Georgia. When Max asked why, Dad answered that, when attending public events, Lady Indomitable used to wear a pair of shiny golden R-shaped earrings that caused everybody in Gatlon to develop mass hysteria and made themselves believe that those Rs meant Regina, when in reality, according to Lady Indomitable herself, one of them meant “Rawles”, and the other “Renegade”. In fact, Oscar Silva (Smokescreen, one of the members of Adrian’s team) had once said that one of his cousins, who lived in Mexico, had been named Renata Regina (Though nobody knew what the heck that first name was, and Oscar had a really peculiar way to pronounce Regina) because she was born a few days after Lady Indomitable’s decease.

“I knew that.” Max lied.

“Sure, buddy. I bet you did.” Margaret chuckled. And there, Max realized she thought she was too clever.

Which, he didn’t doubt she was. He wasn’t in the position to state that. At least, not yet.

But what he was in the position to state, was that, if she thought herself to be clever, then it was his opportunity to think of himself as clever too. After all, he had been reading his whole life because he didn’t have anything else to do.

If Margaret was clever, then so was he.

“You’re talking about an incubator.” He said.

Margaret looked up out of a sudden (Max hoped she hadn’t gotten dizzy). He could still see the chocolate, that at this point should’ve been mush, stored in the inside of her right cheek.

“Uh?” She asked, struggling to keep her mouth closed.

Max gulped, and tapped the surface with his fingers.

“The thing where they put the little baby. It’s called an incubator. That’s where they put pre-term babies, because they’re not ready to survive outside of their mother’s womb. Sometimes their lungs don’t work on their own, sometimes their hearts are too fast or too slow…”

“You look too old to be a baby.” She observed. “Are your powers something related to that? Like, are you a baby who doesn’t look like a baby?”

For a second, Max thought about quoting Evander that time he had boldly stated that Simon was Adrian’s mom, but he didn’t because he wasn’t in the mood to curse.

“…No. First, this is not an incubator. And second,  I’m a kid.” He answered. “I’m not a baby.”

“Then why are you here?”

The short answer was that, honestly, that was none of her business. And the even shorter answer, was:

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. And secrets are sort of important.”

“A secret.” She repeated, as if tasting the word. “…You don’t look like you want to be here. Are you allowed to come out?”

The short answer was still that it was none of her business. But, if he wanted to be honest, for some reason, he didn’t want to give that answer. Because, to be fair, she would find out on her own sooner or later. Because, yes, people talked, and while his dads were kind of secretive about him, everyone in the headquarters knew him. Her being clueless was just a temporary event that would vanish into thin air in a blink.

And, for some reason, he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Maybe tell her something that wasn’t real. Maybe… tell her something that wasn’t necessarily true but that he wanted it to be. Maybe something that was more interesting than what he was, in reality; maybe something that would make the worm in his brain go away for two weeks.

"I can't get out." He finally decided. "Because this glass is infrangible."

Then, he knocked on it three times.

"See?"

Margaret tilted her hair to the side, looking like a cat.

"What does that word mean?"

And dumb as it sounded, Max felt a twinge in his stomach along with a violent wave of pride. Because, even if it was hard for him to admit it, he was hoping she would ask that.

He wanted her to ask that.

"It means you can't break it."

Margaret's eyes seemed bigger. But just as she was separating her lips to speak, somebody behind her cleared their throat.

That's when Max spotted Aunt Kasumi leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. When Margaret looked over her shoulder, she found her there too. But while Max waved at her, Margaret remained inexpressive.

"You're very far from the restroom, Maggie." Kasumi said, in a serious tone. Afterwards, she massaged her temples.

"Please, darling. Just… help me here, okay? We have to go back to the office."

And she didn't seem mad, but rather disappointed.

When it came to Aunt Kasumi, that was enough. Max knew that, and Margaret knew that too. That's why they both removed their hands from the glass, and Margaret started going away.

However, before she was too far, Max asked:

"Why are you here?"

And Margaret turned around, smiling.

"If you're not telling me, I'm not telling you." She sentenced. Then, she proceeded to imitate his voice as she said:

"It's a secret."

And for a while, obviously, it remained that way. A secret. But it wasn't long before they both knew everything they needed to know.

Margaret was integrated into the janitorial team, but, for a while, people talked about her and her powers, and Max couldn’t help but remember what Dad had told him in the bathtub, and the conversation between Evander and Kasumi.

Yet, more than scared, Max felt… something he didn't know what it was. In fact, he wasn't scared of her. More likely, a part of him felt that he knew what it was like to be her, because maybe they weren't that different after all.

People were scared of them both.

But he wasn't scared of her. No, not really.

He hoped she wasn’t scared of him either.

Maybe they could've been very good friends, even through the infrangible glass that kept him from getting pointed at, frowned upon or killed.

[royal-babey]

OC(s) Body Language

Tagged by @kingnikolailantsovs , I think this looks cool so I’m gonna do it!

I also can’t choose just one character so I’m gonna do three yeet.

Tagging: @welcometojoelsvoid @red-wardens @keeperscompanionsdai @aly-the-writer @kadans @chillyrose @heraldofwho @dickeybbqpit @space-vashoth

-

(Doodle of like idk 15 yr old Nico by moi, hence no Vallaslin. All the drawings in this actually are by me akdbwbbdqjhd)

Nikolai Mahariel | 19 years old | Dalish Elf | Grey Warden/Warden Commander | Male

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms cross on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows

SUSPICION.

arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line / strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes

CONFIDENCE.

hands behind back / hands on lapels of coat / steepled hands/ baring teeth in a grin / rolling shoulders / tipping head back but maintaining eye contact / chest puffed up / shoulders back /arms folded just above navel / wide eyes / standing akimbo

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / rubbing hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up – defensive posturing / clenching of jaw / grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales

Felassan Lavellan | 32 yrs old | Dalish Elf | Inquisitor | Male

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms cross on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows

SUSPICION.

arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line /strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes

CONFIDENCE.

hands behind back / hands on lapels of coat / steepled hands/ baring teeth in a grin / rolling shoulders / tipping head back but maintaining eye contact / chest puffed up / shoulders back /arms folded just above navel / wide eyes / standing akimbo

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging at pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / rubbing hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up – defensive posturing / clenching of jaw / grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales

Aslaari Adaar/Lavellan | 17 years old | Dalish/Tal-Vashoth | Inquisitor/Dagna’s Apprentice | Trans Male

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms cross on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows

SUSPICION.

arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line /strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes

CONFIDENCE.

hands behind back / hands on lapels of coat / steepled hands/ baring teeth in a grin / rolling shoulders / tipping head back but maintaining eye contact / chest puffed up / shoulders back /arms folded just above navel / wide eyes / standing akimbo

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging at pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / rubbing hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up – defensive posturing / clenching of jaw / grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales

[hoekinsmoved]

HAWKINS 5

i mushed two parts together so this is a lil bit longer than the usual oof

pairing: mike wheeler x oc (steve’s sister)

warning: profanity

P.S.: i moved to a new blog!! visit and follow me here for the rest of the series  ♡  

3.1k words

masterlist

I HAVE A FUCKING NAME, ASSHOLE

For the first time since she's step foot on the relatively barren town, Stacy finds herself walking around the commercial area to look for interesting shops or places she can spend time alone. The school she'll be going to in fall is at the heart of Hawkins, as she has scaled. Hawkins Middle is at the center, and a few meters away from it are other establishments like an arcade, a 24/7 diner, a mall, a library, and two parks on opposite ends. Stacy has also taken note of a building shaped like a cross from eagle's view, and how it has police tapes all over them. She figures it used to be Hawkins Laboratory.

The police headquarters weren't any exciting, so she didn't really dwell in there a lot.  Plus, Steve wanted to have lunch at the diner, and nothing invites Stacy better than free food, so of course she's planning on going.

Steve did leave one detail in particular though.

All the other kids are coming, and had Stacy known that before, she would have gladly skipped the manipulative free food offer. She entered the diner and didn't even have to look around to see the big crowd of children. She tried to leave, really, but since they've already seen her enter, Steve didn't let her go. He hurried over to Stacy and literally dragged her to the booth where all of them squeezed in to fit.

"I want nothing to do with this," Stacy says immediately, staring intently at her brother. Hell, she even tried to act miserable just so he'd let her go. Stacy knows that heaven knows Steve would listen to her more than these lousy kids.

Right?

"Don't fall for it, Steve. We really need this." Dustin entices her brother.

And just as she knows it, she stands corrected of her previous statement as her very own brother whom she shares practically the same genetic family tells her, "Just let them have this one, Stac—"

"He yelled at me, Steve!" Stacy drops, avoiding any contact from the dark-haired boy seated next to Dustin.. It's something she rarely ever talks about, because it's a sensitive topic, but for the time being, the context is that she never handles yelling well. In her defense, it wasn't like her parents or anyone for that matter used to yell at her excessively when she was younger, and that she's traumatized, but there's just really something about having  someone raise their voice at her that ticks a bomb in her head.

The booth turns silent at Stacy's outburst, as her brother holds a look of contemplation on his face. Mike looks unnerved, uncomfortable with the way Stacy is talking about him as if he’s not there himself. "I just said we were going in circles, and I got yelled at. He was hostile with me the entire time. I told you,  Steve. I want nothing to do with this—"

"We just need answers, and we'll let you be, we promise." Lucas sighs.

"You're the only one who can tell us where it is and what's it like. You need to tell us, Stacy." Dustin adds.

Stacy glances at Steve who immediately says in her defense, "Yeah, okay, she doesn't owe you anything, understand?"  Silence consumes the table once again, until Will breaks it.

"I'm really sorry for what happened that day, Stacy. It doesn't excuse what Mike did, but please..." Will trails off, and that certain look on his face that Stacy can't read softens her mood a little. She heard he's been through a lot, and perhaps this is a little bit too much for him to take—that his friend is stuck where he had been lost. As it turns out, Stacy is not at all heartless. Only sometimes.

She sighs, shaking her head as she takes a quick glance at her brother who only looks at her like he's letting her make her own decision. "Does anyone have a pen and paper?"

For twenty minutes straight, Stacy explained to them the way around the woods to the stacks of logs, and because they have loads of questions about how they'd be able to know which tree is which, it took even more time before she's able to explain the inside of the log stack.

"We don't have a degree in botany, Stacy. We don't know which leaf looks like which." Dustin tells her with a funny look on his face that makes Steve laugh a little inside. He doesn’t ever let them notice but he does laugh at them every once in a while. It’s not out of judgment though, or anything like that. Steve just can’t help it that these kids are his sole source of entertainment for the entire summer.

"That's not my problem, mate." Stacy only replies coldly. Steve chokes on his milkshake a little, but only because he’s still having trouble swallowing the tough pill that is her sister’s newfound sharp attitude. "The log stack stands out like a sore thumb mostly because there aren’t any signs of logging in the area, meaning it‘s quite sketchy why it's there. Walk your way around it and you'll see an open door. There are papers strewn everywhere, and I doubt you'd be able to make sense of everything. It seemed like they were looking for something before they left, so maybe those files weren’t as important. This side seemed to be a forum place, with a table and chairs, but by the corner is a metal draw. You might find somethting there but if it's locked, I think I saw a key... er... by this corner on the floor," She explains as she continues to draw the inside of the log stack.

"I didn't see any cameras on the outside." Stacy notes finally, even though she's sure it's technically not trespassing because it's in the woods. Still, it doesn't take a lot to be safe, especially that it's the destructive local government Steve described to her, that they're talking about. The same institution that's responsible for the people-snacking demo-g monsters.

Dustin eyes Steve before raising a hand in Stacy's direction. She spares a glance his way, and so he warily says, "Can I ask something?"

Stacy raises a thick brow in suspicion. She wonders what else he wants to know, as everything and more has been laid on the table already. Stacy’s even proud of how neat and straight her lines are on the paper. "About the logs in the woods?" she asks.

"No," Dustin answers.

Then Stacy is quick to say, "Then no—"

"Do you have superpowers like Eleven?” As the name leaves Dustin’s mouth, Mike whips his head to glare at his friend. “Because how did you remember all that from a two-minute visit?" He chokes out, despite the fact that Stacy told him she won't answer anything.

Thankfully, Steve unglues his mouth open and cuts Dustin off, "Okay, we're done with that now." He then turns to his sister and says with a smile, "The strawberry milkshake here is nice."

"Okay I'll talk your word for it. Get me some fries too, please." She tells her brother who only nods and stands up from the booth. "Thanks, peasant."

Steve waits in line to order Stacy's food which leaves the table in silence. Max is looking out the window, like she'd rather be skating than be here at all. Stacy notes that she does look like she has a lot in mind. After all, she hasn’t spoken the entire time. Stacy then reminds herself to ask Max if anything’s bothering her later on before she and Steve go home. Lucas, on the other hand, is just watching her and sometimes he would glance at Dustin, but that's about it. Dustin's fidgeting with the condiments on the table while Will's sipping on a chocolate milkshake. Stacy catches him looking at first, but then she glances at Mike who's glaring at the table like it just murdered his family. He seems pretty problematic, as Stacy can tell, so she's glad she won't be getting involved in the mess anymore.

Sincerely though, she hopes they find Eleven. She doesn’t know the girl but there’s nothing more she feels strongly about other than knowing how good and safe it feels to be found. She knows. She was there too just weeks prior.

Stacy knows she was promised peace after that interaction, but the truth is the group of kids might be known around town for doing extraordinary things but they aren’t quite known for keeping their promises.

With Bowie blasting volumes inside her room, Stacy can barely hear her thoughts let alone the knocking on her door. Dustin's small hands continue to thump against Stacy's door, harder and harder each time but it doesn't budge a bit.

"How is she not deaf," Will asks real questions, to which Dustin only shrugs. He's getting really impatient. Downstairs though, Lucas is enjoying the company of Bentley, the family dog, while munching on the fresh cookies Mrs. Harrington baked as a weekly tradition. Max sits a few feet from Lucas, watching the adorable dog in awe as she remains oblivious to the commotion upstairs.

Stacy's music is muffled from the outside, but Steve can no longer take Dustin's calls for his sister to open the door so he steps outside his own room, yelling a quick, "Stacy I'm opening your door!" as a warning before doing so.

The first thing the three of them notice is the easel set up in the middle of Stacy's room, with a palette clasped in one of her hands. Stacy can't help but feel relieved that her canvas is facing the opposite direction from the door hence they aren't able to look into her art and in turn look into her thoughts. She never admits it but it's the most difficult thing for her to do— share her feelings with other people.

The music travels full-blast around the hallways with the lack of buffering that her door once provided, causing the two boys to flinch a little. Steve gets back inside his room while Dustin and Will remain standing by Stacy's door.

"What?" Stacy asks expectantly, just after she lowers down the volume from her player.

"We need help with—"

"No."

"Come on—“

"No.

"We're not Mike! Okay! I know you're upset and shit but we really need your help!" Dustin says exasperatedly.

Stacy furrows her eyebrows at the audacity. They're asking for her help yet he's the one raising his voice at her? Right...

"It's... It's a binary code, and Steve said you can read binary." Will says timidly. Stacy curses steve under her breath as he has yet again, sold her out to these pesky kids who seem as if they’re closer to age 3 than they are to their actual ages.

"Go ask some techy computer dude," Stacy groans, walking towards her door to close it but Dustin stops her.

"Listen, the onle techy computer dude that we know is Bob... and he's dead—" Dustin chokes over his own words upon the realization.

They haven't mentioned Bob since the incident, and he truly doesn't mean to bring him up so nonchalantly in front of Will. Will visibly stiffens at the mention, enough for Stacy to take notice of his sudden reaction. It must be a sensitive topic, she supposes.

"Fine," she sighs, snatching the pieces of paper from Dustin's hold. She scans through the first page quickly, translating the 0s and 1s to words in a second. "They're not... they're not words." Stacy mumbles to herself as she picks up a pen and paper to write the corresponding meaning of the codes.

Dustin and Will both watch Stacy in amusement and slight worry that perhaps she's making all this up, but then again for some reason, they still trust the intimidating girl. Why is it that it hasn't been two weeks since she arrived here and yet they've needed her help twice now? What does that mean?

"It seems like a password." Stacy shrugs after finishing the decoding. She passes the pieces of paper back to Dustin and Will who were just about to thank her until a certain angsty boy comes waltzing through the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mike asks his friends, sending side glances towards Stacy's way. "I went to the shed and found no one!"

"We thought you still wanted time on your own." Dustin squeaks at his diva of a friend.

Mike scowls, "That's bullshit! What, it's just been a week but you're already buddy buddy with Steve's sister?" The young boy shakes with anger, way too pissed off to notice the look on Stacy's face that resembles his but in grater magnitudes.

"I have a fucking name, asshole." She flips him the finger before attempting to slam her door shut.

However, Will's soft voice cuts through the tension, "Wait..." he trails off, walking closer to what Stacy was previously spending her time on before they came banging at her door. Will's eyes holds a strong emotion even Stacy can't decipher, but her good guess is grief and horror. His brown eyes scan the canvas fleetingly, as if staring too much at it would teleport him to the place he knows too well. Of course, Stacy has no idea what place it is exactly, and she just thought it's an underwater city with all the cold tones, but Will knows the dimension all too well to confirm that the painting is an exact replica of it.

Stacy finally gets a hint of what's running through Will's head and she only stares at him as a plea for him to not say anything. With the same gaze she picks up that he understands, but he looks as if he wants to talk about it.

At this point, Dustin and Mike are getting creeped out at the two kids' silent conversation. "What is it, Will?" Mike asks Will with a worried look on his face. It may sound funny but for a second there, Mike thought Stacy was trying to hypnotize the short boy.

Will keeps eye contact with Stacy before turning his head to look at his friends, "Can I talk to Stacy before we go?" He's not exactly asking for permission, but it's sort of a request for them to not leave him behind and spare him a minute or two to confront Stacy.

Stacy's head goes full turbo as truth be told, she's not ready to talk about what she painted when she's not even aware of what it is. But, since Dustin and Mike only gave Will a malicious look before leaving him inside Stacy's room, she knows she has to face him one way or another.

"That's..." Will trails off even before Stacy's bedroom door closes. "That's the upside down." He studies the incomplete painting, a strong emotion burning in his chest as he realizes that what Stacy drew was far too accurate— the structure and the direction, even the cracks and the flickering lights. He knew that she had to have been there before to be able to paint it so spot-on.

"The what?" She asks Will who finally takes his eyes off the painting.

Will gulps, "The upside down, where I got lost." Fear takes over his face so Stacy decides to sit down on her bed and pat the space next to her. The poor boy looks like he's about to relive a dark moment in his past.

He takes the seat next to Stacy who only briefly asks him to explain what the upside down is exactly. Staying true, he only says, "The exact thing you painted. That's the upside down. The suspended flakes, the streets, the icky coating."

“Where's the upside down?" Stacy inquires curiously. Perhaps it's an actual place, she mentally asks.

Will struggles to string the right words. After all, it's difficult to explain a place to someone who has never been there before. He figures his previous assumption could be wrong if Stacy doesn't have any idea what the upside down is. "It's a different dimension. Like the place we're in right now, an exact replica, but the scarier version. The one with real monsters."

Stacy feels bad when Will's voice breaks, as if it's physical torture for him to talk about the topic. "I didn't mean to remind you of it, I'm sorry. It just appeared to me in a dream, and I can't take it off my mind so I thought transferring it on canvas would help me forget it." She apologizes sincerely. Something about Will tells her to be cautious, not for her own sake and safety but his. She doesn't understand why but she feels a certain connection with him that inevitably pulls her to him. Will doesn't admit it to himself yet but he feels the same way.

It's not even romantic, it's like the feeling Stacy gets every time Steve is around, like she's safe and that she should be close to him for comfort. She can't explain it exactly but she lets it lead the way.

"It's okay, it wasn't your intention. If it helps, I draw to comfort myself too,” he smiles softly. “I'm sorry we keep on bothering you." Will looks down at his hands as he apologizes. He metaphorically shrinks like a little boy in great fear of authority.

"I can't say it's fine, but it's not harming me in any way so I guess it is." Stacy says but then she realizes how intimidating it is so she adds, "And I just really want you to find your friend so that little punk could get his panties out of the twist it has been for the past week."

Will smiles at the statement which he finds personally funny but he thinks it'd be rude to laugh at it since it's about Mike anyway. "Our friends are saying he's always been like that when it's about Eleven. The first time she disappeared was tough on everyone."

"Yeah, but he shouldn't take it out on you guys, or anyone for that matter." Stacy shrugs.

Will nods, "Yeah." Silence follows the two of us for a moment before he breaks it. "Lucas and I are going out tomorrow for ice cream, maybe if we get you one, it'll be enough to apologize for bothering you all the time."

A smile inevitably makes its way through Stacy’s lips. "An apology can't be in the form of a purchase, Will." With her words, Will tenses, but then Stacy only laughs lightheartedly, "but yeah, sure."

[raifestrykar-blog]

Flight to Freedom

A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fanfic, a Leonardo/OC romance, that takes place after the events in Out of the Shadows.  

My first attempt at fanfiction, figured I would post it as I finish a section, almost like mini chapters.  I will probably edit and clean it up as I go.

Chapter Thirteen

           There was this…thing…hanging over her, a thing Feronia could not figure out.  Intangible and elusive, and yet it was something that strung coils of unease deep in her belly.  And the most frustrating element of it?  Feronia did not know exactly where it stemmed from.

           Undoubtedly a large part was due to the overhanging shadow of the elusivity of the General and Dr. Grayston’s presence.  It seemed that no matter how diligent the brothers remained with their unending patrols of New York City, they could not unearth the duo’s location.

           And ever since her relationship with the katana-wielding leader had so recently bloomed into something more, Leonardo had become even more determined to hunt out and stop the ever present threat to her existence.  His focus, already as lethally honed as the edge of his sword, became even more deadly.

           Feronia shuddered as she thought being on the business end of that steely, blue-eyed gaze.  But that shudder swiftly morphed, turning sensual and deep and toe curling with heat as she thought of being on the receiving end of that unwavering blue focus for entirely different reasons – a look that demanded her acquiescence, and if she did, promised intense pleasure.

           She would have never fathomed such hot, passionate sensations existed at all.

           And yet Leo would stalk toward her, his hulking, shelled bulk strung taught with the tension of leadership and the responsibility of thousands of innocent’s safety laid upon his shoulders, and her whole body would quiver.

           Not in fear.  Never in fear.

           But in anticipation of surrendering to him.

           She was unsure if their relationship was in the normal category or not, but then again Leonardo was a badass ninja warrior mutated from the genes of a turtle, and she had giant, bird-of-prey wings sprouting from her back.  None of their lives would ever be normal.

           Over the last few weeks of her existence at the farmhouse, her relationship with the deadly warrior continued to morph and grow. True to his word, they both continued to discover what either of them liked or disliked.  

           For instance, the first and only time he spanked her, a stinging swat from one large, green, three-fingered hand had shut her down cold.  It had been done in fun and excitement, a teasing move as she had been running through the trees, laughter bubbling from her chest, a deadly, shelled ninja in hot pursuit.  The case was exilerating as she tucked her wings close to her back and wove quickly around tree after tree.

           She had known he could catch her easily at any time, and it wasn’t long before a frantic glance over her shoulder only to see no shelled bulk tailing after had her slamming full force into a plastron-protected muscled chest.  Laughing, he had spun her up against the bark of a tree and swatted her backside.  Hard.

           The blooming pain had driven every ounce of exhilaration and building passion from her as surely as if she had been dunked into a tub of ice.  Leo had gone stock still behind her as she froze in place, her mind beginning to panic. But, as he always seemed to do, he read her like a book penned just for him.  

           Feronia had felt herself gently turned, and when she could look everywhere but at him, a solid grip on her chin lifted her gaze to his and held it unrelentingly.

           And like he did all those months ago during that fateful night at NexGen Labs, those intense cobalt blue pools grounded her.

           “Alright, Sweetheart.  This is a good thing to know.”  

           And in playful excitement or in dominating passion, he had never swatted her backside again.  And he was always careful to never intentionally deliver pain.

           Yet even now, as she was being lead toward the farmhouse from after a long walk, two large palms covering her eyes and effectively blinding her, something insidious lurked beneath the sea of happiness swelling inside her.  And Feronia could not figure out what it was.  She didn’t think it stemmed from the man leading her across the yard…

           “Why can’t I go to the house on my own?”  Feronia giggled, choosing to ignore that gnawing portent of doom and focus on that source of happiness behind her.

           Firm lips dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. “Because I said so.”

           Feronia grumbled half-heartedly, circling a hand around the warmth of each thick wrist.  Her mind buzzed with curiosity.  What was her surprise?  All four brothers, April and Casey, and even Splinter was at the farmhouse today.  Her quiet little refuge practically buzzed with energy.

           With her wings wrapped around her body like a feathered cloak, she manaed to remain quiet for all of two seconds as she was directed across the farmyard.  As her booted feet cringed over the gravel-strewn driveway, Feronia couldn’t help the plaintive whine that escaped her throat.  “Leo!  I’m dying of curiosity here!”

           The chuckle that rumbled against her back sent a fission of awareness through her.  “My Fer, you are so bad with surprises.  But that was a hot little sound you made…maybe I will try to make you do that sound again later.”

           The heady promise in his words sent her heart racing. But then the heat of a warm, strong palm slid under a wing and along her waist as a muscled band of steel wound around her middle.  Like she weighed nothing, Leo plucked her back up against him, and then her booted feet were deposited on solid ground once again, the dull sound of boots on wood planks telling her he had lifted her up the few stairs of the front porch.

           Reaching out blindly, she felt for the knob to the door only to feel Leo reach around her and nudge it open.

           “She’s here, brah’s!”

           Thump.

           “What the hell, Raph?  You are always punching me!”

           “Shut it, Mikey.  You will ruin the surprise.”

           “I’m fairly certain there is a 99.924% chance Fer already knows a surprise is immenant.

           “So?  He doesn’t always have to slug me.”

           “I’m findin’ it therapeutic.”

           She kept her bark of laughter in as Leo propelled her forward until the coolness of the kitchen spread out before her.

           Then the warmth of his hands fell away from her face, and she blearily blinked her eyes open.  As soon as one lid cracked, boisterous shouts from those she loved so dearly assailed her, along with a faceful of tiny bits of colored paper doused over her head.

           “Surprise!” several voiced shouted in unison.

           Feronia blinked at the scene before her, her mind numbly kicking into gear.

           The kitchen table was piled with several boxes all wrapped in bright paper.  A large, extremely large, cake with bright red letters scrawled across the surface of the white frosting sat in the middle of the wrapped boxes, and the powerful forms of the three mutant turtles, an elderly human-sized rat, and April and Casey lingered around the kitchen table, huge grins plastered over their faces.

           Warm lips teased the shell of her ear.  “Happy birthday, Feronia,” Leo rumbled.

           She seemed stunned even as Mieky bounded forward to scoop her up in a bear hug, wings and all, twirling her around.

           “Yeah!  Happy birthday, Fer-bear!”

           She had not even realized the passage of days!

           Donnie nodded eagerly, pushing his glasses further on the wide bridge of his nose.  Yes, I have been going through any and all files recovered from the night NexGen Labs was shut down.  This is the date recorded as being the first you drew breath.  Hence, your birthday.”

           Tears made her vision swim as she turned to look at her tall, dangerous ninja.  “I’ve never had a birthday party!”

           One large, green forefinger swept a stray black curl of hair off her brow.  “I want to give you everything, you know.”

           The look burning in his deep, blue eyes was something entirely different, yet no less intense.  She opened her mouth to reply just as she was yanked eagerly over to the table and tugged in front of Raphael’s bulked out form.  “Enough teary shit…let’s party!”

           The rest of the day was a whirlwind of fun and games, and Feronia couldn’t possibly imagine being any happier.  Evening was drawing near as they finally let her open the brightly wrapped boxes.  Opening each present surrounded by this strangely put together family was paradise.

           Until she opened the second to last gift, given from the bo-staff wielding warrior.

           Reaching into the box she had just opened, her breath caught in her throat.  Feronia couldn’t imagine anything better than the gift from Raphael and Michelangelo; all Superman DVDs, from the classic television series to the most recently made movies.  They had given her months of viewing at her disposal.

           But at the bottom of the box from the tech-loving warrior was something that made her breath catch.  Even before her hand grasped around the handle, this one gift was making her feel powerful and capable.

           Donnie fidgeted in his seat.  “I hope you like it.  I figured you would have an aerial advantage that even we,” and he gestured to himself and his brothers, “can achieve…”

           His words seemed to be drowned out as Feronia brought out the gift.  An intricately made, small and compact crossbow, it looked small enough to be no bigger than a handgun.  Complicated gears filled the body, and Donnie surged forward.  “It even has cartridges of bolts you can snap in that will automatically load every time you pull the string back and lock it—”

           One large, green hand dropped into view as Leonardo reached over and plucked the mini crossbow right out of her grasp.  “What the hell were you thinking, Donnie?” This is the big secret project you have been working on?”

           “Well, as a matter of fact, Leo, yes.  With her flying now, she can easily—”

           “No.”

           Feronia surged to her feet, rounding on the blue-eyed leader.  “What do you mean, no?  It’s my gift, and I should be able to defend myself.  You all have weapons!”  Even as she pointed out that fact, a small part of her dimly realized she sounded juvenile and petty.  But holding that small crossbow even a few moments had her feeling much less like a victim.  

           Leo had been glaring at his younger brother, but at her rant, those intense eyes slammed into hers.  “I said no.  You do not need weapons.”

           Something cold and hard began to spread within her chest. “You don’t get to dictate what I get to do with my life, Leo.  Give me my gift back.”

           The towering hulk of turtle actually leaned down, getting right in her face.  “I said no.” he repeated.  “We will stop the general—”

           Black, indigo tinted wings snapped up into a poised hold as Feronia’s back straightened.  “Whatever we have, Leonardo, does not give you the right to control every aspect of my existence.  I will never allow that.”

           Silence reigned down around them as the two faced off, glaring at one another.  And there in the glittering depths of his eyes, she saw it.  She saw the unwavering resolve.  Leo would not bend on this.  

           Anger, swift and sure, overshadowed everything she was feeling.  Blinking back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall, she gave a small nod. Turning, she spared everyone at her party a glance.  “I apologize, but I feel the need for some air.”

           And before anyone could utter another peep, Feronia stalked from the farmhouse and out into the dawning night.

           That was three days ago.

***

           Leo had worked his body to exhaustion in the training room, pushing his brothers gruelingly in a series of new moves they were all working on.  All four of them sported green hides that glistened with sweat, and yet he pushed himself on.  When his brothers became fed up with the grueling training, he had turned to weights, punching a bag as if it was the General himself.

           Yet his mind continued to circle the day of Feronia’s birthday party.  Everything had been going so perfectly, and yet at the end of the day, he had stalked from that house and roared his bike to life, speeding down the highways back to the lab.  Leo knew he had to talk to Feronia.  But he was still working on a way to do so without bringing his own volatile frustrations into the mix.  

           With a growl, the finally stalked away from the training room.   It wasn’t until he was sinking his sore body onto the edge of his bed, stooping forward to let his head fall into his hands, that Leonardo allowed himself to ponder his dilemma.  Glancing up, his gaze alighted on the very object that had caused the fracture, this maddening chasm, between he and his girl.  

           She didn’t need a weapon!  He could keep her safe.  He and his brothers worked tirelessly to make certain nothing threatened Feronia’s existence…

           Reaching down into a deep pocket of his black cargo pants, his hands fisted around a small, velvet covered object.

           A gentle nock on his door had him lifting his head as the door to his private room opened.  Splinter’s head peered around.  Spotting him, the old ran moved further into the room, closing it softly behind him.  

           For a long moment, his Sensai merely leaned back against the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest and simply peering at him with those fathomless black eyes of his.

           Leo felt a muscle tick in his jaw, waiting for his father to speak.

           Yet time continued to tick on.  Until Leo surged to his feet, pacing the length of his room. It wasn’t a large space, and he could stalk across the distance from one wall to the other in three long strides, his hand never leaving his pocket.

           “She doesn’t need a weapon, Dad.”

           Silence.

           “I can ensure her safety.  I know it.”

           Silence.

           Leo stalked back toward the opposite wall, finally brandishing forth the object he clutched desparately.  Turning toward his father, Leo held out his hand, opening his fingers. Nestled in his palm was a velvet covered box.  The old rat reached out, carefully taking it.

           His throat worked as he tried to swallow, watching Splinter open the small jewelry box.  A simple band of silver sporting a sapphire of deepest blue winked up at the old rat. “I was going to ask her to be mine, Dad. But I never got the chance to bring it up.  To give it to her.  And now? Now I don’t know if she would accept it. I may have just ruined everything.”

           With a groan, Leo sank back down to his mattress, sitting at the edge.  For once, he was finding himself in territory he did not know how to navigate.  He was on unsure ground with Feronia.

The slight weight of his father dipped the mattress as the old rat settled down beside him, still holding the open ring box.  

           “I remember trying my best to keep four young turtles safe from the cruelties of the outside world.”  

           Turning, Leo’s gaze met the dark pools of his father’s.

           “I seem to remember none of you being truly happy. Not until you went out, defying me and my wishes, to discover your true potentials.”

           The emotion rocketing through Leonardo was so intense, it threatened to choke him.  “She is everything, dad.  Losing her would hollow me.”

           Gently, Splinter closed the ring case and handed it back to him, rising to his feet.  One, long fingered hand gnarled by the ever-turning passage of time settled atop the smooth dome of his head.  “Have you told her what you hold in your heart?”

           Silently, Leonardo shook his head.

           “Even the greatest leaders, the most hardened of warriors, face their most terrifying adversary when it comes to matters of the heart.  I fashioned you into the leader you are now because of what I could see burgeoning in your soul; a just, fair mind and an honorable soul.  You know the answer, my son.  And it takes immeasurable bravery to trust in that.”

           Just as silently as he had slipped in, his father left him.  

           Leo did know his ultimate decision.  His gaze landed on the small crossbow he couldn’t bring himself to destroy.  Rising to his feet, he snatched up the small weapon and flung his door open, stalking toward Donnie’s lab.

           The following day, Leonardo rumbled his bike to a halt before the farmhouse.  His heart was hammering against his ribs, anxiety not an emotion he was usually afflicted with.  Would she forgive him?  Would Feronia…

           Pushing such thoughts from his mind, Leo stalked through the house, only to find the large, two story home empty and quiet. Unease curled through him as he searched the barn with no sight of his girl.  She wouldn’t leave him without a word, would she?  

           It was an early autumn mid-day, and the cheery sunlight and twittering birds did little to calm his rising paranoia as he began to search the farmyard for the sweep of black wings.

           Leondardo eventually found Feronia near the hayfield that stretched onward, the alfalfa tall enough to roll like waves of the sea as the breeze gusted across the field.  At first, it took every ounce of training he possessed to keep the alarm coiling through him at bay when he searched the farmhouse and grounds for nearly half an hour for the winged human with no results.

           It wasn’t until he decided to walk down to the pon that a flutter of smoky black caught his eye.

           There in the grass, under the shade of a willow tree, he found Feronia.  Dressed in a flowing, airy yellow sundress that ruffled in the breeze, she was a vision that made his heart nearly stop in his chest.  Flat on her stomach, one cheek pillowed on an arm tucked under her head, and the impressive expanse of her unique, perfectly formed wings spread out on either side of her as if she had languorously stretched out the tired, sore wing muscles and dosed off mid stretch, Leo found her fast asleep.

           Moving in silently, he drew close and lowered himself until he sat beside her, taking the rare chance to take her in without the prying eyes of others around.

           Inky black curls tumbled out and around her like a silky cloud, the brisk breeze ruffling a few glossy tresses.  It was amazing how her health had improved so greatly since her stay at the farmhouse.  He could see it in the new shine to her wild curls of silky hair, the sun-kissed glow of her smooth skin.

           The features of her face looked so peaceful in the dream world found only in sleep’s embrace.  She looked so relaxed, her brow smooth and free of the stress that often creased it.  Those full, kissable lips rested a hairsbreadth apart, her breath puffing across the hand tucked under her chin to stir several blades of grass with each exhale.

           Her beauty drew him like a moth to flame.  And the six feet wings of black and indigo feathers that swept out from her back only made her more remarkable to him.

           Even if Leonardo stopped the General and Dr. Grayston, those wings of hers were sure to bring her more trouble.  

           Tearing his eyes away from the sleeping woman, he stared down at his own palm.  It still was difficult for him to believe someone could see past the differences his own form had to offer.

           A murmur snapped his attention back to her, and as he watched, a crease furrowed her brow as the wing closest to him jerked against the grass before it was drawn in to tuck against her back.

           “Noooo…”

           The word wrenched from her lips and Leondardo know Feronia had slipped into one of her nightmares.

           Reaching out with one green-skinned hand, he gently slid his hand against the back of her neck until he had her in a solid grip. “Fer, relax.”  He let a command slip into the words.

           Her whole body went lax as if every ounce of tension from the nightmare that gripped her bled out, and her tensed wing relaxed outward again.

           That bolt of awareness shot through him.  Even in her slumber, she subconsciously submitted to his authority as if she trusted he would keep her safe.

           Holy hell, he was in deep.  Splinter had trained him from day one to be the leader he and his brothers needed.  Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined having his order obeyed so sweetly, so innocently, would awaken a side of him he never knew existed.

           Leo remained there, sitting in the grass beside her, one hand still firmly on the back of her neck.  Gently, he let his thumb draw circles along the column of her throat until she began to stir from slumber.

***

           Slowly coming awake, Feronia nearly stretched like a cat at the warm, caressing touch at the back of her neck.  Blinking awake blearily, strong thighs encased in black cargo pants greeted her confused gaze, and as she moved to rise to her knees, a warm smile began to lift the corners of her lips.  

           Until the memories of her birthday, now a week ago, assailed her as her gaze met pools of intense blue.  All the warm fuzzy feelings that had began bubbling through her fizzled as her angry, sad frustration overrode everything.  

           She moved to shove his hand from her neck, but Leo’s grip remained solid.  He was not going to let her go.  “Unhand me.”

           The warrior shook his head.  “We are going to talk.”

           Feronia stilled, and at that small halt in movement, Leo had his free arm snagged around her waist and began settling her down on his lap, her legs spread to straddle his thighs.  It was an intimate position, the heat of their groins pressed together. She did her damnest to ignore the stiff bulge beginning to strain the confines of his cargo pants.

           “I’m not sure I want to talk to you like this. Not if you are going to just tell me how to live my life.  Dr. Grayston and the General won’t be a problem forever, you know.”  Feronia cursed the hammering of her heart against her ribs, willing her voice to remain steady and unwavering while she tried to face this powerful man with just as much conviction as he was looking at her now.

           A strong hand ran down the wide blade of one wing. “Even after them, these wings will always make you a target, Fer.”

           She actually growled at him, her hands tightening in small little fists against the broad planes of his chest.  “I know, but I can’t—”

           Winding one arm solidly around her waist to keep her held against him, he reached behind him with the other, picking an object up out of the grass she hadn’t even  noticed was there.   Feronia gasped, her eyes going wide as she watched him bring the small crossbow between them.  Tentatively, she reached out, one hand wrapping around the handle of the weapon.

           When she tugged though, he did not relent Donatelo’s gift to her.  Her eyes flicked up, captured and held resolutely in his.

           “I promised you we would work on figuring out what this is we have growing between us.  What we have is unique, Fer, and there are no guidebooks or map showing me the way. And that takes compromise, takes give and take, from both of us.”

           Both of their hands still gripping the dainty crossbow, Feronia nodded as Leonardo’s smooth baritone washed over her.  

           “I can’t expect to control every aspect of your life. Nor do I want to.  Donnie’s gift was just a fact I was not ready to accept…the fact that no matter how hard I strive to keep you safe, something will always be gunning for you, Feronia.  Just like my brothers and I have to deal with.  So you can have the weapon.”

           A huge smile burst across her face.

           “You can have the weapon,” Leonardo continued succinctly, “if you train with Donnie and me on how to fight with it correctly.  You shouldn’t be shooting bolts to kill, but to incapacitate.  Donnie is working now on several ideas…I believe he said something about bolts that would shock, some that would smoke...uh…honestly it was a bunch of techno mumbo jumbo I didn’t all grasp at the time.  Can you do that?  Will you train with me, Fer?”

           Days of building frustration and anger, of lingering sadness, fell completely to the wayside.  Abandoning her grip on the weapon, Feronia flung her arms around him, sliding her hands between the thick, strong column of his neck and the rise of his hard shell.

           Leo shifted, the weapon clinking as he set it aside once more in the grass.  Then his two arms were around her under her wings, holding her tight to him with a desperation she had never felt before.  The ninja buried his face in the cascade of curls at her shoulder, breathing deep.  You mean the world to me, Sweetheart.   I will always work with you, Fer, if you work with me.  This I vow.  But until my brothers and I can hunt down the General and Dr. Grayston, I need you to remain hidden.  Promise?”

           Feronia nodded, leaning back to catch his look with her own.  “I promise.”

           He shifted under her, and the bulge in his cargo pants that had yet to abate rubbed up against her center, and she groaned aloud, causing the dangerous turtle to still for a beat.  His low chuckle sent a tingle down her spine.  “We will get to that in a bit.  But I have a gift for you.  I never got to give it to you at your party.”

           Reaching into his pants, she curiously eyed the object he withdrew.  It was a sheethed blade, easily as long as her forearm.  The leather sheath looked like it had been tooled with great forethought…blue tinted leather made intricate stitching along the edges of the sheath, and a black metal handle sported from the open end of the sheath.

           “Up on your knees a bit, Fer.”

           Swallowing hard, she rose up until she straddled over him. A breath rushed from her lungs as one, battle calloused hand slipped under the edge of her yellow sundress, drawing the skirt up over the silky expanse of her smooth thigh.  Glancing down, she watched him as he tied the sheathed dagger snuggly to her upper thigh, the pads of his fingers ghosting along her skin where the weapon’s sheath sat against her flesh.   He never let her skirt fall back down, either.

           “I want you to train with this, too.  It will make me feel better knowing you have something a little less mechanical to protect yourself with.”

           But Leo’s hand was beginning to trail up the back of her thigh, now beginning to slide over her right cheek as that one large hand cupped her ass.

           One eye ridge rose.

           Feronia gulped, words tumbling from her lips on instinct alone.  “Yes, Sir.”

           A growl rumbled from him even as his other hand snaked up under her wing to delve in the long curls of her hair.  “God, what you do to me, Sweetheart.”

           As he drew her mouth to his to take her lips in a demanding possession, hope flickered anew within the depths of her heart.

***

Author’s Note - largely a rough draft, and had to be split into two chapters otherwise with the action coming next, this would have been a 30 page chapter.  Thank you for being patient with me, and hopefully I will be able to have the last two chapters cranked out soon.

[wordfires]

The First Bloom of Autumn

The night was cold, but I didn’t really mind. It always was here. And the night was more comforting than the day anyways. The wind was whistling through the trees, but I was used to it. I’m out here too often to not be. The nature around calmed me, hence why I’m in the forest, not my house. Ugh, I’m here to destress, not think about that hellhole.

Snap!

I whirled around, the snap of a branch pulling me from my thoughts. Why would anyone be out here? It was 2:30 in the morning. But there where I heard the sound come from, there was… a girl? A pretty girl at that. Beautiful, even. Jesus, I don’t even know her name I should not be thinking these things.

“Um, who are you? What’re you doing out here so late?” I questioned nervously. Christ, I try to talk to one pretty girl and my confidence fails me.

“Oh! I’m Lilliana, and I’m out here to look at the stars, aren’t they pretty tonight?” She gazed in wonder at the sky, the moonlight reflected in her brilliant blue eyes. Jesus, I sound like I’m falling in love. Ew, no. No, no, definitely not. I’m not crushing on this pretty- no, perfectly average looking girl whom I have no feelings of attraction to at all because I met her all of half a minute ago. Right. Yes. Of course.

“Oh, um yeah. Um, I’m Ari, by the way. In case, you um, wanted to know.” Why can’t I just say one thing? I see one girl that makes my pulse pound and I can’t talk anymore. Looks like all my dreams of enchanting any potential love interests are down the drain. Turns out faking it till you make it doesn’t work.

“That’s a lovely name, Ari. Heh, I think it’s beautiful.” Wait, did she just say she liked my name? Holy shit she likes my name! She said it was beautiful! The girl I like said my name is- wait, no, she is a person I just met, I am not crushing on her.

“Uhm,  thanks. I, um, think your name is really pretty, too.” Am I blushing? Oh God, I’m blushing.

“Oh, are you nervous?” She giggled, smiling into a scarf that covered her neck and chin. “Don’t worry about it, love. I won’t judge you for what you have to say.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean. I’m not nervous. I am one-hundred percent not nervous. I am just, um, in awe because of, uhm, the stars! Yes, I am quite simply in awe of the most beautiful stars.” I glanced over at her, pulling my leather jacket a bit tighter around me, and tried to drag the topic of conversation away from me. “So, what do you like to do? What’re you interested in?”

She laughed again, bell-like giggles tumbling into the crisp fall air. “Well, I play flute, I just love the sound of it, so light yet it can seem so mournful. I love drawing, too. The way you can just create worlds of your own, it’s just so amazing what you can do with art.” She sighed and smiled at the sky before turning to me. “What about you? Anything you’re interested in?”

Oh God, she smiled at me. God is real, a pretty girl has- no. No, no, a nice girl that I just met and am therefore having no feelings of affection towards would like to know what I’m interested in. Oh God, what am I interested in? What do I do in my free time? Who even am I? There isn’t time for this, she’s waiting!

I cleared my throat. “I, um, like to read. And I guess I write a bit. It’s amazing, really, what you can do with words. The way they can flow together to form stories is just beautiful, isn’t it? It’s like weaving a giant tapestry, but instead of thread you’re using thoughts and ideas and characters and struggles and triumphs, and it all comes together to form one universe, one story.” I turned to face her upon finding myself looking to the sky.

“Wow.” She whispered, eyes wide. “That was beautiful. I-I don’t know what to say. That was amazing!” Holy shit she thinks I said something good, oh my God maybe childhood dreams of enchanting potential love interest with words are coming true! No, no they are not. Because Lilliana is not a love interest. She is a nice girl that happens to make my heart beat out of my chest when I’m talking-no. No, no. She is a perfectly normal girl who I just met and who happens to like something I said because I used it before in writing.

“I, um, thanks. I don’t really know what to say, people never really say anything like that to me.” Pull it together, Ari! Stop stuttering, it’s just a casual conversation. And now I’m blushing. Great.

“Why not? Honestly, that’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard anyone say! Oh!” She paused, pointing a finger to the sky as if something that would not end well for me just occurred to her. “You said you wrote a bit, do you have anything I could read?” She looked at me, a pleading look in her eyes. Dammit, I knew this would happen. Why did I say that I wrote? Well, just gotta suck it up and think of something I wrote that she might like. Oh, the one I wrote last week might work… Wait, why am I not just giving her the one I like the most? I shouldn’t put too much consideration into it, not like I would with someone that I was falling head over heels for. Because I am not doing that. Whatever. The one from last week it is.

“Uh, yeah. It’s called ‘The Boulevard’. I was listening to this one song while I wrote it, so it’s based around that. It’s kind of really gory if you don’t mind that. I’m actually kinda proud of it, though because it’s two different perspectives and one of them is hallucinating because it’s the apocalypse and everything’s gone downhill.” I stopped, realizing I was about to spoil the ending. “But. um, it’s a Google doc so I could share it with you if you’re comfortable with giving me your email, if you’re not I can just print it if you’re still interested.” I fidgeted, poking the ground with my foot.

“Of course I’d love to read it! I don’t mind the gore. Oh, do you have something to write with on you?”

“Uh, yeah. Here.” I pulled a pen out of my coat pocket, handing it to her. She took it, before grabbing my arm, pushing my sleeve up and pulling me close. My heart fluttered, my pulse pounded, she had pulled me towards her, but why? I felt the tip of the pen touch the underside of my arm. Right. Yes, that was the reason. Not because she returned my feelings. Because she couldn’t return them at all because there are none. She’s just giving me her email, that’s all. Nothing special.

“Alright, there you go!” She drew back, pulling me from my thoughts. “And here’s your pen.” She handed my pen back to me as my arm fell to my side.

“Thanks. So, I figure we should get going, it must be after three by now. Um, will I see you again?” Wow, that was actually not too horrible. Denying feelings works!

“I’m sure we will.” She smiled and waved before waltzing back into the forest, going back the way she came.

“Uhm, bye!” I called after her, which was met by faint laughter. Or I’m just imagining things. It was probably just someone’s windchimes. I began the walk back to my house, through the cold fall air. Which, now that I think about it, seemed a little less cold and dark than it had been before I saw Lilliana.

[interships-ulead]

Online Internship Strategies for Interns Success

The online internship program has come a long way, especially after the pandemic. However, this modality and student experience have evolved and grown to the point where they have become industry ready. 

While work-from-home internships with certificates came into the spotlight during the pandemic. As a result, it pushed millions of candidates to adapt to this approach to upskilling themselves. 

Since many big techs have started offering online internships to students, now is the time to make some adjustments for beginners before you hit your stride. Fortunately, you're not stuck figuring it out on your own. Here we offer tried-and-true tips, tricks, and strategies suggested by experts for online internship success to hit the ground running. They are :

1. Engage with mentors

It might seem like a given; after all, you're here to upskill, right? But for candidates without a physical place to go, many have trouble grasping the approach. This is why online interns must make a concerted effort to engage with their mentors in as many ways as possible.

Engaging with your boss on how to get on board with the work-from-home internship will help you understand the company's workflow. Since everything is online, you need to be actively present on zoom calls, skype, slack or more. Take the initiative to update your work in the groups to make people aware of the work progress. 

The more ties you can create between the coursework and your schedule, the better. Simply participate in available online activities and get to know your colleagues.

Just take some time at the beginning of an online internship to explore assigned readings and review them to understand what to expect from this internship.

2. Prepare for technical glitches

It's not a given, but technical issues happen. When a technical issue crops up, like a spotty internet connection, your device giving up the ghost, or even a simple power outage, you can almost bank on it happening during the worst possible time.

Usually, these issues happening is entirely outside of your control. What you can control is how proactive of an approach you're taking.

One way to solve this is to prepare ahead of time for your online meeting stated by an expert.

Don't hesitate to inform your boss if an unexpected technical issue has thrown you off track. Make sure you write an apology email for an abrupt leave from the online internship meeting. Therefore, have a dependable backup plan for internet issues and get ahead of every possible technical problem. A little bit of planning can save you some trouble.

3. Create a specific learning space

Do not overlook the value of having a solid workspace. A million potential distractions exist, and online internships require your undivided attention. Carving out a little chunk of space where you know you can keep the distractions to a minimum and work comfortably can be a big plus.

Discover a space at home where you can work and make it your own," says an expert. Spruce it up with photos, drawings, a pen, a table, and a chair, maybe even a fidget spinner or Rubik's Cube® for a small break.

4. Set aside time for unpaid or paid internships

Just like having physical space dedicated to online work, making space on your calendar for work and personal time is essential.

Construct a realistic daily schedule of when you plan to work. No matter how you decide to split the time up, the most critical piece is building that routine. If you want to do online work in the future, get used to it and make it work.

5. Ask for help

Even with the best intentions, we all lose track of time, get distracted or procrastinate from time to time. But help is available for interns looking to enhance their professional habits in their work-from-home internship.

Many interns struggle with procrastination. Therefore the solution for this is to discuss with your mentor to share some techniques regarding their procrastination habits.

Hence offline or online internship program is about making you well-versed in the corporate culture. So do not worry, an internship is all about trial and error.

Ready for the next step?

An online internship is a dynamic way to upskill yourself. It's also great for looking to upgrade your skills or change careers to advance your knowledge. Think you're ready to explore and earn an internship certificate? Check out what ULead has to offer interns to make industry ready https://www.ulead.in/.