#hes uses bets as barriers to keep himself in opposition to the others while maintaining a facade of playful camraderie

[infiniterupees]

I think Legend has a gambling problem

[sneezefiction]

embrace

Tsukishima x Reader - Scenario 

@belli-jelly’s event request: “#7 with Tsukki ❤️ thank youu!”

a/n: “embrace” with Tsukishima is such a soft idea. he just needs a hug and to feel loved n supported n stuff, ya know? i hope u enjoy!! <333

warnings: slight language, angst (but barely?)

wc: 1990

---

Tsukishima makes his ways through the apartment door, kicking off his shoes a little more forcefully than usual. The thunk of the soles on the tile embodies whatever vexation he’d been simmering in for the duration of the day. A weak, frustration-fueled sigh exits his body.

From the kitchen, you can already tell that something is off. He hasn’t called out to you with his usual, “Hey stupid, I’m home.” You hadn’t even received his typical text telling you he was leaving the gym. The tense silence seeps into the airspace as he makes his way toward you, Tsukki’s feet dragging with every step.

As he turns corner, you’re greeted by features taut with fatigue. It’s as though he’d been running on empty all day, barely making it home with only fumes of energy leftover.

Tsukki’s eyes were undoubtedly strained. The white, intense light of the gym combined with deep concentration kept him on high-alert with eyes wide open at all times.

His shoulders maintained a somewhat slumped position, losing an inch or two of height in the process. The mental weight of handling everything on his own had finally reached him physically.

This hadn’t been a good day, per se.

And if Tsukki had the energy to speak, he would probably tell you how much he would rather be in a month-long coma than experience that level of misery again.

But the hushed air remains and a bizarre staring contest takes place between you two instead of passing words. It’s hard to speak when you know that, deep down, words could never do his terrible days any justice. That even a thoughtful sentence or a well-intended comment would simply drown under Tsukki’s sea of thought, never resurfacing or coming up for air to be heard or understood.

He’s too exhausted to process even the shortest of loving dialogues. And you can tell.

So you sift through other possibilities.

Ways to calm him. To remind him that you care and want to look after him.

Should you make him dinner? He’s probably already eaten. Watch a movie together? No, the light would bother his tired eyes even more. Just go to bed? He would only continue to stir through his disappointments and be kept up by the throbbing of soreness in his legs.

As your eyes trickle down the length of his body, which is now leaning on the countertop as he takes a long sip out of his water bottle, you come to one final alternative…

But it’s always a bit of a gamble. A slight risk.

To touch or not to touch.

Would he lean into it like a self-satisfied, curious cat, tilting his lean body into your affectionate antics? Or would his brittle, biting character and miserable mood cause himself to crumble and fall away from the warmth and comfort of your smaller arms?

On one hand, you might experience your beloved Tsukishima’s gentler side. The one that held you as though he were a mama bird wrapping her wide-spanned wings around your precious form. Instinctively protective. A second-natured response to the way you circled your arms around his torso, tugging him into your field, requesting closeness and vulnerability. It could potentially get his mind off of the day and focus him on the here and now.

But on the other hand, Tsukki had a track record of off days. Jumping away from the soft glide of the pads of your fingertips. On those days, your embrace seemed to resemble that of a thorny, roseless bush to the wavy-haired blonde. The chance of him tugging away, leaving you drained and drooping, was higher than you had ever wanted to bet on. The possibility of him ending up at the opposite side of the bed seemed to increase after experiences like these.

And to be honest, you could never be sure if the touch-deterring wall he built up was to protect himself or you. Yet you always try to find ways to chip away at his salty, skeptical barrier without overstepping any fragile, unspoken boundaries.

It’s a simple concept. However, avoiding his sensitivities is an endless dance and is much harder than it may look. Especially at the end of a long day of pro-league practice, where sweat, sulking, and inferiority complexes don’t usually mix well.

But this was the only viable option left, so you get over your own worries and approach Tsukishima’s weary form. You stop just a few inches before him, his eyes dropping to meet yours. He was even more beaten down up close. The defeated expression he carried in tandem with his worn-out demeanor made you physically ache for him. 

“Tsukki… you’re not lookin’ too hot right now.” You let out a breathy laugh, slowly lifting yourself onto your tiptoes to brush a hand through his messy hair, testing the waters.

He doesn’t flinch away from your movements, so you sink back down onto the soles of your feet, letting your hand run down the side of his face.

“No shit, Sherlock. I don’t exactly feel great either.” He shoots back, but there’s a somber, troubled tinge.

Tsukki inches toward you, looking away as he tilts the side of his head into the palm of your hand. Your fingers cup his cheek.

Everyone knew how Tsukki acted when he was annoyed or angry. Snappy, sarcastic comments would be strewn in an almost poetic manner, kindly crushing those under his scrutiny. Many had seen Tsukishima after a merciless game, beaten and worn out. He would still have a muted fire behind his efforts and would carry himself with dignity, even if he didn’t feel confidence rise inside of him.

But gloominess? It doesn’t suit him. Not now, not ever.

And currently, he’s emanating a dreary, depressing sadness, like being caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella to shield you. It’s helpless and uncontrollable. Utterly humiliating.

You can practically feel the strain of the day radiating off of him. Tsukki had a tendency to wither slowly and cautiously. Not allowing anyone to watch as his snarky comments fizzled out and his sharp gaze gradually dull. By the look in his golden eyes, it was obvious that something in him had already snapped like an old tree branch. Battered and bruised by storm after brutal summer storm, finally shattering under the repetitive pressures of failure and imposter syndrome.

In the past, he had let apathy take over in order to not burden you. Withholding affection, thinking it would keep you safe from his sinking atmosphere when in reality he wished to drink in your tenderness. To fall under your grasp, sinking his head under your chin and lay across your chest.

But maybe it was all too much.

Too much to hold in. To carry alone.

“Kei…” At the use of his first name, he physically softens. Drawing his arms around your middle and clasping his hands behind your back, he gently rests his chin on your head.

“You can always lean on me.” You whisper into the fabric of his shirt.

Your words carry a deeper semblance. That you really are here for him. Physically, mentally, and emotionally ready to lift him up.

You picked a good time for physical touch because he only pulls you in tighter.

He’s pretty warm and smells like sweat mixed with deodorant and his cedar-scented shampoo. You grasp the cloth and squeeze him into you, making sure to keep him steady and balanced. His breathing falls into a gentle rhythm, almost as though he were falling asleep standing up.

“If you weren’t so lanky I would pick you up, but you’re a damn tree.” You sigh, poking fun at him.

The touches were cathartic. Healing. Authentic. Your lighthearted comments kept things comfortable, hindering him from drawing away due to feelings of unworthiness or self-consciousness.

“Wow, okay, bold words for someone who can hardly seem to pick up a bag of flour. You couldn’t hold me even if you were my height.” He snickers, tension releasing and adrenaline wearing off from the high-energy day.

You shift to look up at Tsukki, your chin gently pressing into his chest. He’s already staring down at you. You can’t help that a blush works its way up your neck and onto your cheeks, the warmth from his unusual touch sending you unwarranted fuzzy feelings. As much as you wished this embrace could be all for Tsukki, you’d wanted to hug him with all your might for a while now.

“Y/n… Honest question, so don’t laugh at me. Why are you doing this?” Tsukishima breaks eye contact, arms shifting to lean your chest more on top of his as he sinks a little deeper onto the counter, his back supported by the ledge.

“What do you mean by ‘this’?” You inquire, eyes still fixed on him, searching his expression.

“I mean... You know when things are going to shit. You know when I need something. A back massage, a slap to the face, hell, even a coffee sometimes.” He snorts, trying not to take his own question too seriously.

You’re the one to sigh now. Doesn’t he know how these things work by now? That being in a relationship with him meant more than insulting the daylights out of each other and going out to dinner? Apparently even Tsukishima lacks a lot perspective when it comes to loving another human being.

“You’re stubborn as hell.” You state plainly, your face going blank.

“What?”

“You refuse to see that you need help too sometimes, babe. Hate to break it to ya, but I actually like listening to and hugging you.” You break into a small smile.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He rolls his eyes at your confusing sentence.

“Are you that dense?” You express with mock disdain at his response.

“Tsukki, I’m saying that you don’t burden me! That I want to be there for you even after shitty days like these! You’re an absolute dumbass!” You snicker and your smile reaches your eyes, crinkling and squinting as his meet yours.

Instead of saying anything, Tsukishima rests in place, dumbfounded.

It’s true, you always were there for him.

Cheering at every game. Cooking dinner for him when you knew he would get home way too late and practically starving. Letting him rant relentlessly about losses and seemingly endless practices.

So why was it that only after breaking down in every way possible, he would finally let you see his most vulnerable thoughts and fears. That he would allow you to witness his exhaustion only once it had reached its peak. That it took Tsukki completely collapsing to let you wrap you arms around him.

And you both guess that it’s because old habits die hard.

Tsukki would always be Tsukki. A little too cold and relentlessly set on drenching others in his never-ending supply of sarcasm. Reluctant to accept help until it was already showing through the bleeding cracks of his figure and laced within his pained speech.

Because for someone so good at putting up and breaking through blocks, Tsukishima needed help with the walls that he had built up under his skin over the years. He needed to see that he couldn’t always protect you from his fears, but that you would be there to help him fight them. Or at least hug them away when it all got too much.

And as he presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead, you know it will be okay. Because embraces like these are what chip away at walls of fear. It’s the first step and you can already feel the tension crumble away, allowing warmth to surround the two of you. 

So you begin to remind him more and more that you like hugs. And he lets you hold him far more often, slowly but surely letting you deeper into his mind and into his arms. A much needed and highly welcomed addition to your everyday life.

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list) 

[spartanguard]

babyfaced

Summary: A bet gone awry forces Killian to get rid of his beard for a month. going beardless makes him look significantly younger; but the clock turns back on more than just his face. | rated T; 2.2k words

dedicated to @xpumpkindumplingx​ who told me to “do the thing” and @thesschesthair​ because this is either up her alley or the exact opposite of it.

A/N: just a bit of a crack fic inspired by this post (and the fact that Colin O’Donoghue is a freaking baby face when he shaves), but plus magic—because it’s Storybrooke and we can. header image taken by @lillpon.

Killian sighed heavily and stared at himself in the mirror, committing his face to memory. He ran a hand over his well-maintained scruff, relishing the feel of it against his palm for the last time for the foreseeable future.

“C’mon, Killian—it’s just a shave,” David shouted from outside the restroom at Granny’s.

It was a stupid bet, which of course Killian, in all his cocky arrogance, had taken Dave up on. And it was just his dumb luck that David would have the best darts game of his life and Killian his worst.

So now Killian had to shave off his beard and remain bare-faced for a month. (A month that was typically biting cold and he was always grateful for the bit of a barrier his beard provided.) He hadn’t gone without a beard since...well, not since he was capable of growing one. And there was a reason for that.

But he was nothing if not a man of his word, so with one last caress of his beloved stubble, he picked up the shaving implements he’d been provided with and set to work.

Although he had to send a disparaging glare at the can of shaving foam, labeled as Baby Face Shaving Cream. It was already mocking him. But at least Granny kept straight blades on hand, so he was able to complete the task at hand with some familiarity—even if it meant the result staring back at him was anything but.

Head hung down, he finally emerged from the lavatory to his waiting father-in-law. He could already hear David snickering.

“What, trying to hide? Come on—give me the full view.”

Killian gripped the can of shaving cream so hard he thought it might burst as he huffed and shifted his weight between his feet. “Must I?”

“Unless you plan on looking at the ground for the next month, then yeah.”

Best just get it over with. “Fine.” And he lifted his head to look David straight in the eyes.

It was simultaneously amusing and embarrassing the way Dave’s eyes grew wide at the sight. “Wow, you weren’t kidding—you really do look 10 years younger. Or a hundred and ten, or whatever.”

“No, I wasn’t. So please get all your infant jokes out now.”

David gave all he could in that department on the short walk back to the dining area, and had wrapped them up by the time Killian slumped into the booth next to Emma. He was back to trying to hide his chin and keenly felt the sensation of all eyes being on him, which just made him want to melt into the vinyl cushions even more.

As much as could be said for his leather jackets and kohl, that beard was part of the armor he used against the world, in addition to helping give him a commanding appearance. Without it, he felt much like a lost youth again, and oddly naked.

But then Emma’s hand was on his (very smooth) cheek, turning his face towards her. He heard her hitch her breath and that drew his attention, finally forcing him to look back up. She was studying him intently, and brushing the back of her fingers across his bare skin. Her brow was furrowed and to his surprise, he couldn’t tell why.

“Is it alright, love?” he asked quietly; if she hated it, then the deal with Dave was off.

But then a smirk took over her features. “It’s adorable,” she gushed, much to his consternation; he hung his head yet again. “No, Killian—come on,” she protested, and pulled his chin back up. “It’s different, but a good kind—it’s like seeing you in high school or something.”

“See? I look like a teenager. This is ridiculous.”

“I think you look very sweet, Killian,” Snow said from the other side of the booth, but that didn’t help much.

“Exactly,” Emma agreed. “You are a softie, Killian Jones, and for once, you look like it.”

He did have to admit: the way Emma couldn’t keep her hands off his face did have a perk, and she seemed to enjoy peppering his smooth cheeks with kisses (he also conceded that it felt nice to have her lips right against his skin). But the stares and smirks from everyone else meant it was going to be a long, long month.

------------------------

With the way his facial hair grew, he had to shave at least twice a week to maintain a satisfactory level of clean shaven-ness. Granny had let him keep the shaving cream they’d found at the bed & breakfast, even though she herself wasn’t sure how long it’d been there. At least it had a nice, clean scent, and seemed to take decent care of his skin, if the way Emma continued to caress his face each morning was anything to go by.

Although one day, a week or so later, she did narrow her gaze on him. “Have you been using my eye cream?” she asked.

“No; just the normal facial moisturizer,” he answered.

“Huh; must be something in that shaving cream, then, because your crows’ feet aren’t as deep.”

He shrugged; he knew there were plenty of ways of reducing the appearance of age in this realm with proper skin care, so it was to be assumed that once he started doing the same, it might have some affect. “I’m sure it’s only temporary, then, as you give me abundant reasons to smile every day.”

She just grinned and kissed him.

He did notice, though, that as time went on, his beard didn’t seem to fill in as much as it used to. It was mildly concerning, but he figured it just had to do with the fact that he was starting over from square one every time it began to regrow; once the month was up, it would return to its normal level of thickness.

A couple weeks in, he wondered if he might even be shaving too often, when red bumps began to appear on his chin; it reminded him of the zits he would get in his adolescence. God, he would probably blend in with the high schoolers, between the lack of beard and appearance of acne. At least he had his chest hair to rely on.

But—was it just him, or was that looking a little thin, too?

Perhaps he was just seeing things. Perhaps he was just tired, too—he found himself feeling rather...vigorous lately, which had led to some late nights with Emma. (Several.) Usually, she was the insatiable one, calling him “old man” and other teasing endearments, but for once, he had more stamina than her. 

“You’re not taking Viagra or anything, are you?” she asked, breathless, one night.

“Taking what?”

“Never mind.” (Even if she didn’t have another round in her, she still couldn’t keep her hands from his chin. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.)

With the extra energy in his system, he started to spend more time on his ship, and even took up running. It was giving him a leanness he hadn’t had since he was a lanky lad, and did lead to some oddly timed naps, but mostly just left him hungry.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Emma asked after he polished off far more of a pizza than he normally did.

“Aye, love—perfectly fine,” he assured her, though her worry was causing the same in him. “Why?”

“I don’t know; it’s like...with your face looking so much younger, all of you seems to be a little younger.”

His brow furrowed at that—but at the same time, he knew it was fairly impossible. 

Still, the idea lingered, as well as the sense that he’d somehow disappointed Emma. He found his mood changing on a dime during the last week of the terms of the bet, at times feeling depressed and lonely, and daring and joyous at others. It nearly gave him whiplash.

He sought once to calm his nerves in a glass of rum but, oddly, couldn’t stomach it like he used to.

It was while having a conversation with Emma and David at the station and his voice cracked that he finally realized something was amiss.

“God, you even sound like a pubescent teenager,” Dave teased, but Emma immediately became concerned.

“Okay, something weird is definitely going on,” she said, then came over to assess him. “Do you feel different anywhere? Did someone hit you with a spell or something?”

Suddenly feeling annoyed, he shrugged her off and stepped away. “Bloody hell, no! I don’t know what’s happening. I just know I’m emotional and have too much energy and it feels like everyone hates me and—”

He was cut off when Emma pulled him into a hug—quite possibly one of the best feeling hugs he’d ever had, and he immediately sank into it. “That better?”

“Aye,” he said into her shoulder.

“Sometimes, you just need a hug. It helps Henry.”

He rolled his eyes, but was glad she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, but you’re not my mum.”

“No; it still helps though.” She pulled away. “Can you stay here while I go check something? Make yourself a cocoa, okay?”

“Okay,” he muttered. She placed a peck on his cheek, gave her father an oddly angry look, then headed out.

“What was that about?” Dave wondered aloud.

Killian just shrugged. “I dunno. Want cocoa?”

“Sure.”

They shared a mug (Killian may have doubled up on cocoa packets in his) and were chilling on the couch when Emma returned, holding a vial. “What’s that?” he asked, standing, as she came in.

“Stand right there and don’t move,” she commanded. “Dad, come over by me.”

Both guys did as asked, and Emma popped the cork on the vial. Carefully, she put a tiny amount of the powder inside in her palm.

“Okay, brace yourself, Killian.”

“For what?” he complained, but it was too late: she’d blown the powder his way.

He winced when it hit him, then a tingling sensation took over his body, leaving him a bit sore—but somehow also feeling more normal than he had in weeks.

He blinked when the prickling feeling dissipated and looked back at his companions; Emma was smiling and David, for some reason, looked upset. 

“Hey, it hasn’t been a full month yet!” he protested. Killian reached up to brush his hand along his jaw; his beard was back.

“What did you do, love?” he had to ask; he thought she liked him cleanshaven?

“I was right; you were literally aging backwards,” she said. “That shaving cream? Turns out it had some magic in it that turned back the clock. If you’d used it any more, you probably would have started to get shorter.” 

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. “So I really was a teenager?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

David was looking very sheepish off to the side, especially when Emma leveled her gaze at him. “So thanks for putting my husband in high school, Dad.”

“Sorry!” he said quickly. “I had no idea; I just wanted to see what he’d look like.”

“Well, maybe next time, don’t put such a ridiculous time limit on your bets, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, though the way he was curling in on himself let them know he was genuinely sorry.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have my way with the MAN I married—not the BOY,” she said pointedly, grabbing Killian’s hand and leading him from the station. They didn’t pause to see David’s reaction, but it was easy to imagine.

“I’d say that was fair punishment, Swan,” Killian quipped as Emma led them down the street toward their house. 

“Oh, definitely,” she giggled. “But I wasn’t kidding. I need to have you when we’re both on the same level.”

“I think I can handle that.”

(He couldn’t. Apparently, aging nearly 20 years in one day was draining.)

The next morning, he shuffled down to the kitchen to the smell of pancakes and bacon, and the sight of Emma cooking. He sidled up behind her, like he usually did, and buried his scruffy chin in the crook of her shoulder, tickling her and making her laugh.

“Still feeling okay?” she asked as she flipped the pancakes on the griddle.

“Aye; back to my old self. A fact that I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted.”

“Good.” She moved the pancakes off the pan and onto the plate, then turned off the stove. She turned in his embrace and quickly placed her hands on his cheeks, scratching through his scruff. “Mm, I missed that,” she hummed.

“Yeah? You seemed to have a thing for a clean face, too,” he replied.

She shrugged. “It had its novelty, definitely, and it was kind of nice to see what you looked like before life happened.” He swallowed; he hadn’t thought of that. He’d definitely seen pictures of Emma as a youth, but obviously, there weren’t any of him. “But now you look like the man I fell in love with again, so please don’t let any stupid bet or spell change that, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, love, as long as you do the same.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Actually, might I propose something else?” he added.

“What’s that?”

“I’d quite like to see what it’s like to grow old with you.”

Emma grinned, crinkling the skin by her eyes and around her mouth. “I would love that.” 

------------------------------------

thanks for reading! tagging some friends: @kat2609​ @optomisticgirl​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @effulgentcolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubble-sandwich​​ @killian-whump​​ @lenfaz​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​

[triscribe]

The Difference Between Scavenging and Stealing

The ship came down in a hail of smoke and burning parts.

All motion in Niima Outpost froze, scavengers and dealers alike staring at the Star Destroyer falling to pieces through Jakku’s atmosphere. The massive vessel finally landed with a distant WHOOM, creating a mushrooming cloud from the impact point. It took a few moments, after the sand began to settle, before someone moved and set off a frenzy. Every scavenger raced for their vehicles, grabbing extra ropes and nets as they went.

Having already finished her business for the day and been walking back to her rusty old speeder, ten year old Rey was one of the first to roar out of the outpost. The girl didn’t even stop to think - if she could get to the new wreck before anyone else, she’d be able to gather up the kinds of parts and materials that went for big money, the kinds other ships had already been picked clean of.

Unfortunately, better-maintained speeders managed to over-take her little craft, and the girl grit her teeth as they barreled onwards. Adjusting her course, she aimed to pull in alongside the Destroyer’s stern, rather than heading for the undercarriage docking bays where entry would be easiest.

As soon as she arrived, the kid powered down and hid her speeder, then ran to start climbing the crunched and distorted bulwarks. Sure enough, about halfway up, Rey found a tear in the ship’s plating, just big enough for her to squeeze through.

The inside... was a mess.

Flames still burned up and down certain corridors, and the girl readjusted her face mask, glad that the thick cloth could block more debris than just sand. Working her way inward, she paused occasionally to snatch bits of wiring and electronic components to stuff in her belt pouches, the sorts of things she could use to fix up the big red dune-skimmer half-buried next to her house.

Finally, Rey found a vertical shaft clear of smoke, and started heading downwards, towards the engines. She had to keep pausing to listen to distant taps and pings, checking for the inevitable arrival of other scavengers. Being the first to the most valuable pieces of equipment wouldn’t matter if she couldn’t get out with them before someone bigger got there, looking for the same items.

(Most scavengers didn’t share.)

Rey carried a pipe-staff for the exclusive reason of beating off bullies who thought they could take her stuff, but then she’d be distracted, and someone else could grab the parts and take off.

(It wouldn’t be the first time.)

Eventually, she reached a spot where the shaft wall was warped, blocking it off, and the girl had to climb back up to an exit in order to go find another route to the engines. The corridor she emerged into, though, looked like nothing she’d ever seen in another Star Destroyer.

Piles of tools and welding materials were stacked up alongside one wall, a collection of old stormtrooper armor against the other. A whole bunch of cloth and padding material formed a sleep pallet in one corner, next to a box of parts and a half-assembled holotable. Opposite of those were crates nearly as tall as Rey herself, and she drifted closer to peek inside one.

Ration packs. Old, stamped with the insignia of the Empire, but still sealed - and there were dozens of them.

Breath caught in her throat, it took distant shouting to startle Rey into moving. She dropped her biggest bag to the floor, clambered up to perch on the edge of the crate, and started grabbing up armfuls of ration packs to drop into the canvas. So distracted with the need to gather as much food as possible, it took the girl a minute to notice the shouts were getting closer... and to realize they’d turned into screams.

Gulping, she threw the last pack into her bag before jumping down, tying it closed, and dragging the lot back to the shaft entrance.

Climbing back up was a lot harder with the extra weight, but Rey grit her teeth and kept at it, determined to get her prize out safely before returning to look for more. Screams and cries of pain or anger kept reverberating around the cracked decks of the ship, echoing to the point that she couldn’t tell where they were originating from. But one thing was absolutely clear to the girl: someone had still been living on the Destroyer when it crashed.

And that someone didn’t like scavengers coming for their stuff.

-Star Wars-

When he felt the last of the intruders retreat, the blue-haired man deactivated his weapon with a sigh. “Fantastic way to make a first impression, Bridger, really stupendous.” After a moment, he clapped a hand across his face. “Force, now I’m even starting to sound like that bastard.”

Continuing to grumble complaints, the man strode through the once-again empty corridors, absent gestures here and there dropping loose panels on top of fires to smother them. Soon enough he arrived at the particular stretch he’d turned into his own private hideaway, only to pause. Something felt... off. Like a lingering presence in the air, but even less tangible.

Fingers tightening around his lightsaber, the man moved more cautiously, all senses extended to search for any intruders he might have missed. No one sprung out at him from the shadows, and the turbolift shaft at the far end was empty when he poked his head through the opening to check. It wasn’t until he began to inspect his supplies that the man found definite proof someone had been there.

The bare bottom of one of his ration crates seemed to echo with derisive laughter. He stared for a long while, before finally shutting his eyes... and reaching out through the Force.

In one direction, the intruders he’d scared away gathered nearby, fear and resentment and greed marking their faint signatures. Off to the other side, though, towards the ship’s stern, was a single lifeform, burning so brightly in the Force it was astounding he hadn’t sensed them earlier. It was this lifeform, filled by a hesitant joy overshadowed by the steady need to get to safety, that he’d bet had stolen a quarter of his food supply.

Well. If he’d managed to swipe that many meals in one go as a kid, his emotions would likely be much the same.

Warning whispers prickled at the edge of his mind. The intruders were absorbing reinforcements into their ranks.

He sighed.

Chasing them all off again would, theoretically, be doable, but the same cycle was bound to repeat again and again. There was the option of killing them all instead, as a dark little voice in the back of his mind pointed out, but...

But.

This wasn’t war. This was people trying to scavenge enough to survive.

Another sigh. And then he started to pack up his supplies, still keeping tabs on the brightly shining Force signature in the back of his mind.

Maybe they wouldn’t mind trading some more ration packs in exchange for local intel, and possibly a new place to sleep.

-Star Wars-

For the first time that she could remember, Rey had enough food to feast.

Each pack came with a square of protein and carbohydrate blend, a few sticks of vegetable nutrient, and a water bulb. She scarfed her first meal down to quiet the grumbles of her belly, and then ate a second, more slowly, in order to savor the new tastes and textures.

It was while she sat on top of her hut, gradually draining the second water bulb, that Rey felt one of her warning tickles - like someone not really there had tapped on her shoulder. The girl turned, squinting in the sunset light, to look in the direction of Niima Outpost, and beyond it the new wreck.

A figure approaching her home lifted a hand to wave.

Instantly, Rey rolled off the top of her hut and in through the opening, sliding shut the meager door she’d made out of scrap metal. Then she grabbed up her staff, slammed her back against the barrier, and waited, heart pounding.

Two... five... ten minutes went by, and she didn’t hear anything.

Biting her lip, Rey pushed up onto her toes, straining to peek over the top of her makeshift door, which didn’t quite reach the top of the hut’s opening. A glimpse of dark blue hair made her duck right back down again, but apparently the stranger still managed to spot her.

“You know,” a voice called out, “If you wanted some of my rations, all you had to do was ask.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no oh no.

The person who lived on the new wreck had followed her.

Shoving down her sudden terror, Rey responded in the only way she knew how: “Go away!”

“Not until I have a chance to talk to you,” the stranger replied.

“I’m not giving them back!”

Chuckling. “‘Course not, you’ve probably already split them between at least three different hiding places. Or at least, that’s what I would’ve done, if I’d ever managed to steal that much food when I was your age.”

Scowling, Rey got up on tip-toe again, high enough her brown eyes could meet an amused blue gaze. “I didn’t steal ‘em! I’m a scavenger, not a thief!”

“Uhh, hate to break it to you kid, but the only difference between scavenging and stealing is whether the previous owner of the stuff you take is still alive.” The man gestured to himself. “And since I’m not dead yet, well...”

Rey dropped back down with a huff. “I’m still not giving any of them back! If you didn’t want your stuff taken, you should’ve protected it better!”

“Yeah, I know. I was a little more worried about those friends of yours at the time, though.”

The girl snorted. “I don’t have friends.”

A thoughtful hum reached her ears. “What about family, then?”

Unexpected tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, and Rey held them back by sheer willpower. “They’re coming back for me. Someday. They will.”

The stranger stayed quiet for a while. “I dunno if my family will come for me,” he finally said. “I’ve been lost for so long, I don’t even know if any of them are still alive.”

Something in his voice made Rey pause. Tentatively, she shoved her scrap door over a bit, to be better able to peer outside at the guy sitting in front of her home. His hair was kind of long, with roughly cut bangs, and the longer bits pulled back into a ponytail. Two narrow scars marked one side of his face, and his clothes were grease- and soot-stained and covered in patches. A bunch of work pouches hung from his belt with different odds and ends sticking out, including a weird looking rod that held Rey’s attention for a long moment.

When she glanced back up, the man’s head was tilted to one side, as he stared back. Something nudged her. Like the warnings that tickled at the edge of her mind, but more insistent, encouraging. Taking a deep breath, Rey pushed the door over enough for her to step outside.

One side of the man’s mouth quirked up. “You’re not one to stay scared for long, huh?”

“‘M not scared,” she sniffed. “I’m careful.”

“Hi Careful, I’m Ezra.”

Rey blinked. “What?”

“Heh, sorry, I’ve always wanted to use that joke,” the man apologized with a grin. “But my name is Ezra, Ezra Bridger. What’s yours?”

“...Rey.”

“It’s nice to meet you Rey,” Ezra said, not commenting on her lack of a last name. “So, if we want to move on from the whole scavenging/stealing debate, how about this: you keep all of the rations you swiped and I won’t try to take them back, in exchange for you letting me camp here and sharing some information.”

Face scrunching up, Rey thought about it for a minute. She liked her house because it was hers, far enough away from Niima and the other campsites that no one bothered her. On the other hand, she did feel kinda bad about swiping so much of Ezra’s food when he didn’t even act a little mad about it.

“...what sort of information?”

“Well, for starters, how about telling me what planet this is?”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up. “Jakku - you didn’t know that?”

“Nope.” Moving slowly, Ezra reached into one of his belt pouches, and pulled out a pretty gold and blue cube. “Like I said, I’ve been lost for a long time.”

The girl didn’t have much time to think about that, because her attention focused completely on the cube when Ezra let go of it mid-air - and it didn’t fall down. She watched, stunned, as the cube’s components shifted, opened, and started to project a holographic star map. “Whoa.”

Again, one corner of the man’s mouth lifted into a half-grin. “Cool trick, right?”

“How are you doing that?”

“With the Force, all things are possible,” Ezra murmured. He focused on the map as it slowly spun, before pausing on a certain sector. “There we are, Jakku - middle of nowhere and clear across the galaxy from Lothal, greaaat.” Scrubbing a hand across his face, the man sighed.

“Is that where you’re from? Lothal?”

“Mm-hm. Born there, survived there, fought there.” He glanced up at the darkening sky, suddenly looking a lot older and more tired than before. “Fields of grass as far as you can see, lakes as big as oceans, smooth mountains scattered around...”

Rey tried to picture it, despite only vaguely knowing what the words meant. For a moment, something hummed at the forefront of her mind, and she thought she saw some blurs of bright colors, green and blue and brown. But then the moment passed. Rey blinked her eyes clear, and saw Ezra staring at her, one side of his mouth partially turned up in a thoughtful expression. “Have you ever heard of the Force, Rey?”

She frowned. “No. What’s that?”

“It’s- well, it’s a force,” Ezra chuckled, “Something that binds everything in the galaxy together, connecting, flowing, transferring energy. And some people are more deeply connected to it than others, which lets them do things like, well, like this.” He gestured to the cube, still floating in place. “If I’m right, you’ve got a really strong connection.”

Rey blinked at him, then at the cube, then back at Ezra. “I can’t do that.”

“It takes practice, and someone teaching you the basics. But once you take even just one step in learning out how to open yourself up to the Force, a lot of it works on the same principles, the same patterns.”

Her gaze dropped back to the cube, and felt another nudge on her mind. “...can you show me?”

“Sure. Come sit like this - you don’t have to get too close if you don’t want to, but less distance helps.” Chewing at her lower lip, Rey took a few hesitant steps forward, before dropping down to sit on her knees like Ezra, just out of arm’s reach. He grinned. “Okay. Close your eyes, and listen to the sound of my breathing... in, hold, and out, hold... match it with me, alright?”

Rey hummed, eyes shut, focusing on the steady inhales and exhales and copying them.

“That’s good. Now feel, not with your body, but with your mind.”

And Rey... felt.

The same brief warmth she got from the nudges that warned her, guided her, completely surrounded the floating cube. Opposite it, Ezra felt hotter, sharper, with bits of cold around the edges that just made his center seem even brighter. And beyond him, Jakku was lukewarm, with faint light and cold spots and currents of something that moved between it all-

“Not bad, not bad at all.”

Ezra’s sudden words brought Rey back to herself, and she sucked in a startled breath, eyes snapping open. Around them, full night reigned, although there’d still been a bit of light from the sunset left when she had sat down. The man across from her smiled.

“What- was that the Force?” Rey asked.

“Yep. The connection that binds everything together,” he said. “And what makes it possible to be a Jedi.”

Surprised, Rey sat up a little straighter, because that was a word she knew. “Like Luke Skywalker?”

“Uh, who?”

“The last Jedi! The Hero of the Rebellion - he was the one who beat Darth Vader and the Emperor and helped bring back the Republic!”

Ezra stared at her, completely stunned. The hologram cube dropped to the ground. “He- what?”

She nodded rapidly. “Mo’junga tells stories about Skywalker and the Rebellion whenever he’s drunk, which is a lot - the Battle of Yavin, the Battle of Endor, Han Solo and Princess Leia and- and-” Rey trailed off. “...and you don’t know any of those names.”

Ezra’s jaw worked silently for a moment, and he tried to smooth his expression out, but Rey could still feel him, could feel how shaken he was. “I- no. I know Yavin, that was our base, but- I don’t recognize the others. The- the Empire’s really gone? We beat them?”

“Mm-hm. Years ago. Before I was born, anyway.”

After a long minute, something twitched. “Wait,” Ezra mumbled. “Skywalker.” He lifted a hand, and the cube floated back up, lights flashing until a new projection emerged. “-asked me to record some helpful tips for those of you going into battle against the Separatists, or any group of well-armed opponents. Now, keeping your saber moving is key to deflecting the fire of multiple adversaries. Flowing motion, one into the next, into the next and so on. I’ve, made some adjustments to the Form Four techniques that work well against droids and other ranged attackers. Here, I’ll show you-”

“That’s a Jedi,” Rey breathed in awe, as the little blue-tinted figure pulled out an actual lightsaber and started using it to swipe blaster bolts away from his body.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Ezra said, gaze narrowed. “He was a Jedi General in the Clone Wars, before the old Republic became the Empire. He taught a friend of mine - do you know the name Ahsoka Tano?”

Rey shook her head, and Ezra’s frown deepened. “Well. She was a Jedi too. My Master may have died and I might have disappeared, but this ‘Luke’ Skywalker was definitely not the last Jedi with the Rebellion-”

“Wait!” Rey shot to her feet. “You’re a Jedi?!”

The man blinked at her, before grinning. “Well, yeah. Wasn’t that obvious by now?”

“Prove it!” She demanded, pointing at the paused hologram recording. “If you’re really a Jedi, then you’ll have a lightsaber like him, right?”

Ezra’s grin widened. His hand went to the odd cylinder Rey had noticed earlier on his belt, held it up, and pressed a button. A blade of bright green plasma leapt out, humming and sizzling in the night air. Rey stared at it, eyes wide with awe.

“Yes, Rey. I’m a Jedi. And you can be one too.”

---

(Posted to my AO3 account, also under the username Triscribe, but of course my internet’s acting wonky and won’t connect so I can copy the link. Bah.)

[delkios]

Undertow (ToV)

Some creative license regarding Zaphias's water system, particularly the canal in the Lower Quarter, otherwise this would be taking place in the river outside of Zaphias which just seemed unlikely.

Title: Undertow Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Rating: PG Word Count: 2582 Characters: Flynn, Yuri Summary: Though Yuri brought up the time Flynn was swept away by a river as a light-hearted story, it hadn't been nearly as amusing at the time.

(dreamwidth) (pillowfort)

Flynn gasped for air, kicking wildly to keep his head above water. The river was rough and swift but thankfully not enough that Flynn, being a fairly strong swimmer, thought he was going to drown. Unfortunately it took all his strength to keep it that way, unable to make any progress for the nearest bank. He wasn't even certain when he'd been swept out of Zaphias, only knew that he'd been pulled under for a moment and when he came back up he couldn't see any buildings or even the rings of the barrier. His arms and legs were beginning to ache and Flynn knew if he didn't do something soon, his strength would give out and there'd be nothing he could do to keep from drowning. Something flickered on the edge of Flynn's vision, moving crosswise against the current and too deliberate to be part of the rushing water. He managed to keep his head up and water out of his eyes enough to recognize the ragged fin of a merman and for one heart stopping moment, all Flynn could think about was how helpless and vulnerable he was in the water. Then he was overcome by a sudden, hot determination as a thought rushed through his mind: if he could grab the merman, maybe he could get out of the river.

The monster came at him, jaws first, and Flynn held his breath and stopped fighting the current, using instead to twist his body out of the way. His should bumped against the merman's rough side and he made a desperate grab at the creature's arm and missed and grabbed again, catching hold of the hook it held. It used its weapon to pull Flynn in, trying for another bite and Flynn lunged for its arm again. The top of its snout bumped against his chest, lifting him momentarily out of the water and landing on its back. He gripped the dorsal fin tightly and the merman rolled in the water, trying to dislodge him and, when that didn't work, tried scraping its back against the riverbed but Flynn clung too close, its fin dragging into the dirt and rocks. His lungs burning, Flynn kicked his heel into the merman's side, right in the gills as hard as he could and it made a choking sound, writhing for a moment before clawing at the riverbed and dragging itself toward the bank. Flynn gasped and coughed and his body wanted to drop to the ground but he knew doing so would basically be certain death. The merman let out a wheeze and tried to dig its claws into the leg that had injured its gills but Flynn swung it away and aimed another kick on its opposite side. It faltered again, stumbling further out of the water as it tried to swipe again at determined child clinging to its back. It wasn't able to grab him but it left three bleeding scratches over Flynn's side. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain. Distantly he heard a voice say, "The hell? Is that a kid?" But Flynn was too preoccupied trying to survive the merman to give it more than passing acknowledgment. Despite his body's exhaustion and pain as the merman's claws continued to rake over him, desperation kept Flynn clinging to its back, twisting around to keep the monster from getting a grip on him while maintaining his own. It growled, like gurgling water, and Flynn could feel the noise vibrating through its back and it sounded frustrated as it kept trying to grab at him and Flynn could only be thankful its weapon had been lost down the river, otherwise he'd have surely been skewered by now. Which didn't help him get out of this current situation, but minor victories. "Kid! Get down!" His eyes snapped open and he saw four armed people charging toward them. Flynn's surprise loosened his grip just enough that the merman tossed him off with a harsh twist before noticing the oncoming rush. It froze for a moment before turning and diving back into the river. The group skidded to a halt, looking down at Flynn in various degrees of disbelief and shock. "Holy hell, kid- are you okay?" "Where did you even come from?" "Damn, that thing got you good." One of the men held out his hand toward Flynn. "Let's get you over to our caravan, okay? We can treat your wounds there." He coughed and nodded, breath having been knocked out of him when he hit the ground. The man easily picked him up and cradled Flynn between his waist and the crook of his arm. Flynn wanted to say that he could walk but now that the immediate danger had passed, his body was beginning to shake from the adrenaline crash. The caravan was one large cart hooked up to a couple quietta and on the side was a logo that Flynn recognized as Fortune's Market, the only guild allowed to work inside Zaphias. There the man sat him down on the cart steps and another came up with a canteen and rag. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" He said with a friendly smile. Flynn nodded again and let the man get the work. He had to take off his shirt so the man to clean the scratches on his back and a woman with a hammer strapped to her back picked it up, frowning as she examined it. "I'd say this is a loss. Pretty sure we got something in the back that might fit ya." As she began to move off with his shirt, Flynn said, "Um!" "Hm?" "I don't have many shirts, could I keep that one, please?" It was bad enough he'd lost one of his shoes in the river. She and the man taking care of him looked at Flynn like he was crazy. Then their looks intensified and Flynn knew they were examining his threadbare clothing and gaunt figure and he tried not to shrink back. After a moment, the woman sighed and looked away. "I'm no seamstress but I've been known to wield a needle a time or two." Her large arms flexed, showing off a number of scars scattered here and there. "Still gonna find ya something to change into, though. Don't need to be sitting around in sopping wet clothes." After his wounds had been cleaned, the man pulled an apple gel from a pouch at his waist, piercing the gummy skin so he could rub it directly over Flynn's injuries, the pain dulling to a faint ache and skin beginning to knit itself up. Flynn changed into a shirt donated by the smallest member of the caravan- which still draped over him like a dress -and his clothes were placed on top of the cart with rocks to dry. "So?" The man that had carried Flynn asked, seemingly the leader of the caravan. "Where'd you come from?" "Zaphias," Flynn said around a piece of jerky he'd been given. He whistled. "That's a bit of a ways. How'd you end up all the way out here?" "I fell into the river." He looked around, trying to find a hint of Zaphias's spire but the caravan was in a bit of a valley. "I don't know how far I went before I grabbed the merman." Around him, the guildmembers all stopped. "Wait- you grabbed the merman on purpose?" "Yeah." His teeth clamped down on another bit of jerky, sucking on the taste before chewing it. "I might've gone all the way to the sea otherwise." "Kid," the woman said, "that thing coulda killed you." Flynn shrugged. "Least I got outta the water." They stared at him for a long moment before breaking out into laughter. "Kid... I don't even know what to say. You are something else." He flushed, pleased but embarrassed. After all, he just wanted to survive. "Well, lucky for you we're headed to Zaphias ourselves though we're probably not going to make it before they close the gates for the night." The man chuckled, shaking his head. "What's your name, Kid? You got the devil's own luck and I'll bet it'll be interesting to see how you grow up." He beamed brightly. "Flynn Scifo!" ~*~*~*~ Yuri woke up with a headache, clogged nose, salt on his cheeks and his eyelashes sticking together. He felt, quite frankly, awful. Not just physically but he felt sick in his stomach and his heart. Hanks had taken him in last night after all of Yuri's screaming and struggling made it obvious someone would have to make sure he didn't go running off trying to look for Flynn. He'd meant to pretend to sleep and wait until Hanks slept himself before sneaking out but, as he lay in the big empty bed that once belonged to Hanks's now-grown-son, Yuri couldn't help the desperate, crushing loneliness that seized him and he'd started to cry. Quietly at first until it grew into great, heaving sobs that left him choking into the pillow, burrowing into the blankets to hide from the world. Yuri had never cried so hard in his life. At least not that he could remember. Not even when Flinath or Charla died, one after the other, but the thought of losing Flynn, one of the few good things in Yuri's life, the only thing Yuri really considered his, felt like the whole world was coming to an end. He'd sobbed even as Hanks gathered him up in his arms and Yuri was equal parts mortified and grateful for the comfort the man offered. Yuri had fallen into a dreamless sleep and woken up with the sun brightly streaming into the room and Hanks sleeping in an uncomfortable looking position against the headboard. Very carefully, very slowly, Yuri crawled across the bed and quietly lowered himself out. He could hear Hanks's wife bustling about in the kitchen. If he could sneak passed her, he'd be able to go on the search he'd meant to go on last night. Slowly he eased the front door open just enough to slip through and just as quietly eased it closed. He sat on the front steps to stuff his feet into his boots and laced them just enough so they wouldn't fall off. It must have been mid-morning, the first rush of the day giving way to a steady stream of people moving about and Yuri knew it was only a matter of time before he was noticed. He made it about two blocks down when he heard, "Yuri? Does Hanks know you're out?" He ran. More people were calling out his name but Yuri ignored them and kept running. If no one had found Flynn yet, he must have gotten swept out of Zaphias. Yuri didn't know where the canal emptied out but he was sure if he circled the city wall once he was out he'd come across it eventually- "Yuri!" He came to such a sudden halt that Yuri tripped over his own feet. He scrambled to his hands and knees, shoving the hair from his face and saw, next to a Fortune's Market cart, Flynn. Something in Yuri's chest twisted and he barely recognized the high pitched whine coming from his own throat and he hurtled himself towards his best friend, all but tackling him in a bear hug and raining kisses on Flynn's face between garbled, unintelligible words. "Yuri," Flynn wriggled in his grasp, "c'mon!" "You're okay!" Yuri eventually managed to choke out. "Yu-ri!" He'd finally managed to get his hands between them, not pushing Yuri back out of reach but far enough that he could give his best friend that ridiculously bright smile Yuri had almost thought he'd never see again. "I'm glad that didn't turn into a big deal." Yuri reared back and punched him in the face. "You JERK!" ~*~*~*~ Having sent Karol ahead, because no doubt someone would suggest celebrating Flynn's victory, Yuri turned back to Flynn and scowled. "What's with the shit-eating grin?" Flynn wasn't really grinning, breathing still heavy from his marathon battle, wiping the sweat from his face and neck, his hair even more tousled than ever. But it was all in the eyes, the sharp, knowing look and subtle shift of his lips shaping them just so. "Just thinking of all the details of that story you neglected to mention." Yuri crossed his arms and tossed his head as if he had no idea what Flynn was talking about. "Everything was the truth." Flynn shifted his head to the side and Yuri could practically hear him think 'more or less'. Then he looked back Yuri and the specter of that shit-eating grin grew into something a little more prominent. "Perhaps you just 'forgot' about how you cried when I came back?" Yuri tsked- as much as he enjoyed using their shared past to needle Flynn, it was annoying that it went both ways. "Or that you kept kissing me and refused to let me go for more than a minute at a time? And that you made me swear for a week that I'd never leave you behind again?" "Or the reason why Zaphias has grid iron grates in the canals is because of you?" "Or that you demanded to bathe with me to make sure I wouldn't fall in the drain." Yuri scoffed. "You say that like I'd have a problem sharing a bath with you now." Though, from the slide of his gaze, it was obvious that he meant for very different reasons. To his delight, instead of getting flustered or annoyed, Flynn full on smirked. "Are you that eager to scrub the new champion's back?" "Old news," Yuri's tone was dismissive even as he pulse kicked up a notch, "I already beat you in Aurnion." As hard as he fought, as tired as he must have been, between the fire in Flynn's eyes and the color still flushing his cheeks, Yuri knew Flynn's blood was still singing and that, far beyond any of the others, that was Yuri's favorite look on Flynn. The deep, intense gaze, the heat and tension in every strong line of his body, the way he moved so purposeful and wanting with eyes that could only see Yuri. It never failed to make Yuri want to be wild and reckless in ways that decency laws would absolutely not approve of. They stood chest to chest and it took far more willpower than Yuri would ever admit to not grab a fistful of Flynn's hair and have him right on the coliseum floor. "Do you really think you'll win a second time?" Flynn asked, anticipation shivering over Yuri's spine. "Always up for a rematch with you." Flynn leaned in closer still, lips just a hairsbreadth from brushing against Yuri's. "Then let's see who comes out on top." ~*~*~*~ (optional skit) Estelle: Natz said he made a reservation for us to celebrate Fynn's win and- hm? Where's Flynn and Yuri? Karol: I thought they were coming right behind me. Raven: Oh, I'm sure they are. Karol: Should I go get them? Judith: It's fine. No doubt they're celebrating in their own way. (reaction shots) Estelle: O-Oh... Rita: Ugh! I didn't need to know that! Karol: Huh? Raven: Well, no sense letting that reservation go to waste. Let's go on ahead. (all but Karol moves off) Karol: I don't get it. What are you talking about? Guys? C'mon!

[shielddrake]

Rebel of Sky City Ch. 22

So, here’s a little tidbit I meant to include in the last chapter post, but little scatterbrained me forgot. I just wanted to share part of a review from chapter 20 written by TheAmberShadow, in regard to Ivor’s apparent fall from the palace after the explosion in his lab:

 “Ivor’s going to fall screaming past them at any moment and that mental picture is hilarious!”

 The idea of Ivor falling past Lukas and Isa as they tower back up to the city had my sides hurting from laughter! I wish I had included that somehow! It’s much more creative than what I ended up doing. Unfortunately, I needed Ivor to show up at the big meeting with all the other characters. There should be a Minecraft: Bloopers Mode and include that somehow!

I’m still looking for input on my next project. The updated choices are in chapter 19.

Chapter Twenty-Two

To Lukas’ surprise, he found himself staring at the hilt of one of Isa’s swords.

They had positioned themselves all around the outer perimeter of the palace. This was where most of the traitorous guards remained. They threw spawn eggs to create monsters whenever they felt like it. Ghasts seemed to be their favorite. Despite that, there were plenty of zombies, skeletons, spiders, and creepers around to make everyone nervous.

 The only good thing about the rubble around the city was that it provided plenty of cover for them to hide. They still had to beat a few mobs every now and then, but for the most part they were able to reach the large crevice that surrounded the palace entrance. Had it been filled with water, Lukas would have called it a moat.

 Still, he didn’t expect to be in this situation. The group was waiting for one of Aiden’s henchmen to show up before they sprung their plan. In the meantime, Lukas stared at Isa with a perplexed expression as she pointed the hilt towards him.

“Really?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

 “Aiden has access to all the resources we had in the palace, including the weapons stash for the Guard,” Isa explained. “No doubt he will have found the diamond swords by now.”

 “Swords made of diamond?” Olivia repeated. “Really? You have those?”

 “They were only for Jesse, Reginald and me to use, but I’m sure Aiden will be keeping one at his side,” The Founder continued. “It would be foolish to think otherwise, and a diamond sword lasts much longer than your iron one. If you end up fighting him, you’re going to need a weapon that can match his.”

 Lukas looked down from her face at the sword for a moment before slowly taking it. He couldn’t argue with her logic.

 “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lukas said. “Hopefully Aiden will be willing to listen to reason.”

“What are the chances of that?” Petra asked him. “He’s way beyond reason by now.”

 Lukas shrugged. “Guess Jesse’s optimism has rubbed off on me.”

 “Looks like some of the guards are patrolling again,” Milo whispered, looking over the pile of blocks. “Philippe and I are going over to the other side. We’ll lead the distraction from there. Split their forces in half, so to speak.”

 “Good idea, Dad,” Lukas agreed. He reached over and gave his father’s shoulder a squeeze. “Be safe, okay?”

 “And you as well, son.” Milo returned the gesture and smiled. “I will see you on the other side.”

Milo and Philippe took a group of the rebels and headed off to the other side of the palace. Lukas turned his attention to Ivor, who was now without anything to defend himself, having given his last three potions to them. Not wanting to leave him unarmed, Lukas pulled the iron sword Axel had given him and passed it to Ivor.

“You think I know how to use one of those things?” the older man said deeply.

 “Yeah, I don’t think this guy does much fighting,” Petra joked, at which Ivor glared at her.

 Lukas shook his head. He could tell Petra was teasing, but he wasn’t sure if Ivor would take it that way. And now really wasn’t the time for them to start going at each other. Lukas only just got his father and Isa to agree to disagree long enough go through with this plan. He didn’t need another argument on his hands.

 Thankfully, Axel hushed them for him. “Guys, check it out. Gill and Maya.”

 The little group looked over their shelter. Sure enough, Aiden’s two little flunkies were walking around, swords in hand, and looking around. They had a couple of other guards with them, and they each sported bags and belts full of eggs. The guards were clearly being more vigilant than either Maya or Gill, who were chatting with each other without a care in the world.

 “Look at those jerks,” Olivia commented. “Acting like the city isn’t falling apart around them.”

“Time to take the fight to them,” Axel said, punching one fist into the opposite palm.

 Isa stood, pulling out her remaining diamond sword and twirling it in her hand. “I swear, I’m going to tear these traitors limb from limb.”

 “Take care of yourself out there, Isa,” Lukas warned her.

 “And to you as well,” Isa answered him. She nodded to Ivor. “Let’s go.”

 Ivor followed her across the yard and into position. Axel rolled his neck and stood.

“Time for a little payback.” He was stopped by Petra’s hand on his. His eyes went wide for a moment before he lifted his gaze to hers. “What’s up, Petra?”

“Just…be careful, okay?” She rubbed the back of her neck, which was starting to turn a little pink. “You never know what new tricks Gill and Maya have up their sleeves.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve dealt with them pretty much my whole life,” he insisted. He let out a single laugh. “And you’ve kind of helped me be more confident around people who talk down to me. I can handle any monster they throw at me…no pun intended.”

 Petra still didn’t release his hand. Axel glanced back and forth between her face and their clasped hands.

 “Uh, Petra? Are you okay?”

 She squeezed his hand, ignoring him in favor of glaring over at Lukas and Olivia, who were watching them intently. She crinkled her nose at them, apparently rather annoyed at the presence of an audience. Finally, she threw up her hands and turned back to Axel.

 “Screw it,” she said, and then reached up to pull the tall man down and crashing her lips to his.

They remained like that for a good minute or so. Lukas and Olivia stared with wide eyes, eyeing each other uncertainly. The kissing pair ignored them entire. Petra kept her eyes close, while Axel’s seemed to take over his entire head.

Finally, she released him. Axel stared at her with a rather stupid smile on his face. He continued to watch Petra as his body tried and failed to turn around. He stumbled over some debris as he moved to follow Isa into the courtyard. His normally deep voice was pitched to a higher octave as he chuckled nervously. He cleared his throat and headed off.

Petra watched him go and place himself in front of the patrolling guards. She glanced over at Lukas and Olivia. They were giving her an expression that was some sort of mixture of amusement and surprise. Olivia kept her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle giggles, while Lukas held his sides in a silent laugh.

The redhead scoffed at them. “Don’t say it. Don’t even chuckle. Especially you.”

 Petra pointed a finger at Lukas, who only barely managed to control his laughter. He did remain quiet, as commanded.

 “Hey, Maya! Gill!” Axel shouted. Lukas looked over the barrier to see the tall man waving his arms around. “Bet you’re feeling on top of the world right now!”

To no one’s surprise, the commotion got their attention in no time at all. The brunette pair’s gaze immediately snapped to him, and both Gill and Maya smirked at him. Gill stepped forward and put a loser sign on his forehead, using his thumb and index finger.

“Too bad you didn’t choose the right side, huh?” he mocked. “Loser.”

 “Yeah, maybe you should’ve tried harder to get on Aiden’s good side,” Maya joined in. “But big surprise, you’re not smart enough to have figured that out.”

“Brilliant comebacks from these guys,” Olivia muttered.

 “I think that’s the longest sentence that’s ever come out of Maya’s mouth,” Petra added.

 Lukas had to bit his lip to stop himself from laughing again, and thus give their position away.

 Axel, however, wasn’t perturbed at all, which Lukas had to admit was a bit of a surprise, but in a good way. He flexed his arms, making himself look even bigger.

 “But I’m still here though!” He announced. It would seem that Axel felt more confident and loud after receiving Petra’s attentions. “You’d think you would’ve caught me already, if I was such a loser!”

That simple taunt got under Gill’s skin, and he pulled his sword out and waved it in a threatening manner. “That can change real quick!”

“Even if he has reinforcements?” Everyone’s heads turned to see Isa walking up to the crevice, with Ivor right behind her. She glared at the pair and the guards standing with them. Lukas had to look closely, but he could see their knees shaking. “I do not take kindly to traitors. Stand down now, or I will show you how I deal with people like you.”

Gill’s mouth dropped open while Maya started stuttering. “You’re, you’re, but you’re dead! Aiden threw you off the island! How is this—”

“Perhaps I am more resourceful than you expected,” Isa sneered, flashing her blade against the rain. “Now it’s time to see if you will follow through with your threats.”

 Gill shook his head and snickered. He looked over his shoulder at the other guards, who were simply staring at The Founder with disbelieving eyes.

 “Don’t just stand there!” he commanded. “Get them!”

“Boom!” Maya shouted, throwing an egg at Axel’s feet, instantly spawning a spider. “Egg!”

 A fight broke out in no time. Isa maintained the line the most, being the most experienced fighter there. Axel and Ivor were able to hold their own fairly well, even against the skeletons being spawned in front of them. Ivor seemed more anxious about the whole thing, but that didn’t stop him from giving a few blows to the nearby creeper. He jumped out of the way of the imminent boom, shouting as he covered his head.

 “I don’t need any more explosions!!” he hollered. “Thank you!”

 There was the sound of another bang in the distance, far enough that no debris showered the group but still close enough that they felt the swell of the explosion. Lukas took a glace in the direction it came from. He could hear screaming in his father’s voice, but it wasn’t a painful scream. It was one of releasing pent up rage and frightening the enemy. Lukas smiled at his remaining two friends.

“That would be Dad,” he said. “And that’s our cue.”

“Remind me to congratulate Axel on his standing up to his bullies,” Petra said. “They’ve been jerks to him for long enough.”

 “I think he’s fine,” Olivia stated, shrugging one shoulder and listening to Axel continue to taunt Gill and Maya. “That little public display of affection gave him the boost that he needed.”

 “Yeah, you should do that more often,” Lukas suggested, smirking at his best friend and ignoring how her face began to match her hair. “I think you’re getting a little soft, Petra?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Giving them one last glare, Petra quickly drank the light blue potion in her hand. Having the Potion of Swiftness, neither Lukas nor Olivia saw her sprint out of their sight, leap over the crevice, and head straight for the front gates of the palace. They did feel the gust of wind that went with her, but beyond that it was as if Petra just disappeared into thin air.

 Olivia smiled and drank her own potion. Hers was the Potion of Leaping. This gave her the ability to leap from her hiding spot straight over not only the crevice, but also over the guards, rebels and monsters standing in her way. She landed with a boom, and for a moment Lukas was worried that she would be spotted and attacked. He needn’t have worried though, as Olivia immediately jumped again. She was able to bypass the fighting by staying airborne. Soon enough she was also at the palace gates, standing right next to Petra.

 “Guess it’s just me now.”

 With that Lukas closed his eyes and downed his grey potion in one gulp. It felt like he had swallowed a large bug, or maybe a spider, along with soggy carrots and some kind of plant his tongue didn’t recognize. He grimaced at the taste and nearly spat it out. It was only the knowledge that he really needed the Potion of Invisibility’s effects that kept him from doing so.

 Half a second later, Lukas looked down at his hand. He knew he was moving his fingers and he could feel the air around them, but he couldn’t see them at all. Glancing down at the rest of his body, Lukas could see, or rather, not see himself at all. His body was completely gone!

“Now that’s more like it,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice down to maintain the illusion of having disappeared.

 Lukas probably had the hardest time getting over the crevice. He thanked the stars it didn’t go all the way through the bottom of the island. He was able to slide down it, reach the base, and then slowly and carefully climb up the other side. The stones and dirt that were displaced by his steps weren’t invisible, but that was part of the reason his friends and family were acting as a distraction. Once Lukas reached the top of the crevice on the other side, he looked over his shoulder at the battle. Everyone was too busy to even notice that anything had gone amiss. He smiled and waved at Isa, but then remembered she couldn’t see him. He turned back to the palace.

“Only three minutes,” he reminded himself, and he took off running.

 Of course, Lukas was the last one to arrive at the palace gates. By this point, Petra’s potion had worn off, which meant that Olivia’s was not far behind. They were already waiting for him at the palace entrance. Petra had her sword out and Olivia had an arrow drawn in her bow. Lukas waved his own weapon.

 “Ready, ladies?” he asked. They both nodded. “All right! Let’s go!”

 With that, the trio found themselves in the perpetual labyrinth that was the Sky City Palace. The outside of the palace was so precise and so immaculate on the outside, with its bright gold blocks and perfect dome. Truthfully, Lukas never thought it would be such a mess inside. Halls and rooms weaved each and every way imaginable, including up and down a few small flights of steps. The worst part was that, to him at least, it all looked alike. The few paintings and tapestries hung on the walls didn’t help him familiarize himself. Everything looked the same to him!

 “Who’s bright idea was it to make this place so complicated?” Lukas couldn’t help but groan. “Why isn't this considered an ‘egregious waste of resources’!”

“Good thing you’ve got me, huh?” Petra joked.

 Lukas chuckled. If Petra hadn’t joined the Guard and become accustomed to walking about the palace…well, that was just luck on their part.

 “Think we’re going to run into any monsters in here?” Olivia wondered aloud.

 “Keep your eyes peeled,” Petra replied. “Just in case.”

 Almost as if on cue, when they arrived at a four-way intersection, Lukas saw the flash of a swinging sword from a side hall. He lifted his sword in time to parry the attack, but he stumbled back from the blow. The sword came down again, but this time it was Petra’s sword that blocked it.

 “Look out!” she yelled, a little too late, but Lukas was unharmed and that was all that mattered. She looked up from the hilt of her sword into a pair of dark eyes covered by pale cyan hair. “Mevia?!”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t show your face here again, Petra,” Mevia replied, a smirk scribbled across her face. She jerked her sword, forcing the redhead to step back. “We’ve got some fighters here, Hadrian!”

 “Aiden warned us about keeping intruders out of the palace.” Olivia spun around, aiming her bow down the opposite hallway as Hadrian walked into view. He held his own sword made of diamond, jutting it towards Lukas. “Can’t say I expected to see you again, chump.”

The blonde narrowed his eyes at the older man. “You were hoping I was dead, weren’t you?”

“You’ve made life very difficult for us, buddy,” Hadrian answered with a snarl. “But you know what they say: revenge is best served cold.”

With that, Hadrian drew up his sword and rushed at Lukas. He held up his own sword in preparation to deflect the attack. It turned out he didn’t need to worry about it. Just moments before Hadrian reached arm’s length, there was a whirl in the air. Hadrian screamed as an arrow embedded itself into his arm. Lukas jumped back, out of range of Hadrian’s sword.

Rather than continue his assault on Lukas, Hadrian snapped his gaze to Olivia, who was preparing another arrow in her bow. She drew it back and fired again. This time, Hadrian dodged, but the arrow still forced him to step back, or else he would’ve gotten an arrow in the knee.

“That’s for my glowstone dust!” she hollered, in a rather non-Olivia-like way. She readied another arrow and glanced at Lukas over her shoulder. “Keep going! Find Jesse!”

 “She’s right!” Petra called, swinging her sword against Mevia’s and talking to Lukas with perfect multitasking skills. “We’ll take care of this!”

“Aw, isn’t that cute, Hadrian?” Mevia mocked. “She thinks they can take us on.”

 “Time for a wake-up call, kiddos.”

Hadrian ran for Olivia this time, but she was too quick for him. She dodged out of the way and leased another arrow, this time aiming for his chest. He had to press himself against the wall to avoid it. Petra, meanwhile, saw an opening in Mevia’s defenses and gave her a solid kick in the chest, knocking her back.

“What are you waiting for, Lukas?!” Petra shouted at him. “The throne room is down that hall! Alternate left and right until you get there!”

Lukas glanced back and forth between the two women. Between Petra’s swordsmanship and Olivia’s aim, they seemed to be able to hold their own.

He nodded before taking off down the fourth hallway. “Take care of yourselves!”

 Lukas’ steps echoed in the palace halls. As the echo faded, Petra dodged another of Mevia’s swings. The older woman’s sword became embedded in the wall where two of the hallways met. This bought Petra a little time to regain her footing.

“You doing okay, Olivia?”

 “I’m having a blast!” She shot another arrow, forcing Hadrian to jump back again. With each arrow she fired, he was forced farther and farther down the passage. “I’ve got years of frustration to work out! Hadrian’s not going anywhere!”

Petra couldn’t help but let out a snigger and faced her opponent again. “Hear that, Mevia? It’s just you and me!”

Lukas could hear Petra’s telltale battle cry as he sprinted down the halls, trying his best to stay oriented in relation to the throne room. A few more hallways later, Lukas felt he was no closer to it than he was when he was separated from Petra and Olivia. He looked around, taking in the same bland walls, same straight corners, and same egg paintings everywhere. Although the egg theme made since in relation to the Eversource, Lukas felt like he never wanted to see an egg again.

“Isa, if we get through this,” he grumbled, hoping he didn’t go in a circle and end up meeting his friends again rather than the throne room. “I’m never letting you build anything this big ever again without supervision. This is absurd!”

 He kept going left and right as Petra instructed, and after several twists and turns he slowed his dash to a stop. Before him were the double doors that he now recognized as the ones leading to the throne room. Lukas let out a huge sigh of relief before he pushed them with all his might, opening them as quickly as he could.

Made it, he thought. That was lucky!

 “Back down and get out of my face, Reggie!” Lukas instantly identified Aiden’s distinct tone, and he readied his sword. “I won’t tell you again!”

“You’re delusional, Aiden!” That was Reginald. “The people of Sky City will never bow to you! You killed The Founder!”

Once inside the room, Lukas spotted Reginald sitting on the floor next to the throne. His hands were tied behind his back, while he looked up at the seat with a snarl. Of course, it was obvious why he was doing that. Aiden sat on the throne, leaning back with his feet propped up on the left armrest. Next to him, tied on a leash and held down with Aiden’s foot, was the Eversource. She clucked helplessly as she flapped her little wings. Lukas’ eyes narrowed at the scene.

“Yeah?” Aiden barked. “Well, you’re going to be next if you don’t shut up!”

“Now you listen here!” Reginald protested, still yelling. “I’m the Captain of the Guard! You can’t just talk to me that way!”

“I’ll talk to you however I want, Reggie!”

 Aiden stood and gave Reginald a good kick in the side, knocking him off the steps leading to the throne. The Eversource clucked as Reginald grunted from the impact of his shoulder against the floor. Aiden’s foot lifted off the chicken’s leash, allow the Eversource to flap away from the throne.

 Lukas has seen more than enough, and he took a step forward. “Hey! Leave him alone, Aiden!

Aiden jumped at his voice, his eyes shifting from Reginald to Lukas. He stood at the top of the throne, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared. His hands balled into fists and he lifted them as if he was ready to punch something.

“Lukas?! How can—” Lukas could hear him practically hissing through his teeth. “I saw you fall! You went down!”

 Reginald looked up from his place on the floor and gasped. “You’re alive? You’re alive! Is The Founder with you?”

Aiden finally decided to take his rage out on Reginald. Pulling a green and black egg out of his inventory, he tossed it right at the back of the Captain’s head. Being on the floor with his hands tied behind his back, Reginald wasn’t able to move away in time to avoid it. Reginald yelped as the egg cracked against him, spawning a black and green creature on top of him. Lukas recognized it as the one Aiden had spawned in the basement, and recalled Jesse’s words about it.

 “Creeper! Lukas! Watch out! They explode!”

 He didn’t have a chance to react however. The creeper exploded a mere second later, knocking him farther from the giant chair. The Eversource scampered over to him and pressed her beak against his cheek in an attempt to wake him up.

“Reginald!” Lukas cried. His attempt to go help the older man was halted by Aiden’s next yell.

“Not one more step!” Lukas narrowed his eyes at his former best friend. Aiden bared his teeth, and Lukas felt like punching them out of his mouth. “How in the world are you still alive? No one survives falling into the Void!”

 “Guess I’m full of surprises,” Lukas announced. He took a few steps towards the throne. “Where’s Jesse?”

Aiden let out a howl of laughter. “Like I would let you anywhere near her now.”

He doesn’t know, just like Ivor said, Lukas thought. He shook his head and pointed his sword towards his ex-friend. “Aiden, you’re done. This is where it ends.”

“I killed you once, Lukas,” he screamed, bringing out his own blade. “I can do it again!”

“Not this time!”

 Aiden leapt down from the top of the throne, bringing his sword down towards Lukas from above. Rather than try to block the attack, Lukas rolled out of the way and counterattacked. Aiden easily blocked it, forcing Lukas to take several steps back. With another push, the brunette was able to push Lukas farther until he was pressed against a wall. Aiden’s sword came down again, and Lukas was barely able to duck away. The diamond sword let out a reverberating clang that flew through the entire room.

 Lukas was on the defensive. The only experience fighting he had was the occasional sparring he did with Petra, and even then she would always win. She was the one who should be fighting this battle, not Lukas. He couldn’t recall a time Aiden got any kind of training, especially enough to be pushing Lukas as much as he was. When did he learn to fight like this?

“Give it up, Lukas,” Aiden mocked. He sideswiped his sword, cutting Lukas at his chest. “I’ve always been the better fighter—no, the better man than you!”

 The sword ripped through Lukas’ shirt, superficially slicing his skin underneath. He hissed at the feeling. Putting his hand up to his chest, he felt a small amount of blood smear onto his palm. It distracted him long enough to allow Aiden a chance to swing up and practically throw his sword down on him. Lukas watched as the blade came down…

But instead of feeling a sword crash onto his head, Lukas heard the sound of a pig squealing.

[luvcolorhuikj]

Love is the thing with colors

by Hui Kj

PROLOGUE

Queen Lau ruled the women of District Orange with grace and youth. She birthed the princess of the white void to be hidden in normalities, vastly unknown by the mass women, but simply as Au - keeper of the library, ergo the centerpiece of the hallways and the religion of D.O. There was no war in the white void, and no collisions with what differed - there were only women and there was only knowledge of peace - although, Queen Lau was the daughter of the goddess Eve; the idealization of purity and individuality.

Eve fled the desert with her daughter Lau and walked into the light of the sky to be seen no longer by animals or the soon leaders of threatening places. To be of nature in single and to clone flesh and processes infinitely and with ease. Everyone - white, straight hair - pale orange eyes, and a hidden language parallel with the opposite void that was not found or learned - but birthed into Au with a sibling vessel. She had a pressing mischief that made her vastly different than her mother and the girls in her academy. This language is doom to resolution yet a centerpiece of creation for the time, and her mind has not been centered with tongue; ergo she stutters and the vowel sounds are twisted and prolonged. All the other women spoke a simple language of gentleness with no new concepts - but repetition and contentment.

The princess of D.O., although treated as a regularity and thought of herself as an average white, hallway student - with a special library privilege in time and having the distribution process as her job, and was keenly interested in language and voids in general right from her birth. The Queen immediately took action and cut her off browsing complexities.

Au could not have a roommate, could not have a friend. The only dialogue she maintained in was the library distribution check-outs, and the occasionally meeting with her mother - but Au, in the unknown of her family line - always thought she was in trouble with Queen Lau because she was the curious type - and she knew about some of the books that were in restricted cases in some orange storage room. This was mostly labeled and disguised as fiction written by The Queen - and not even the disciples or managers of the Orange District knew such things as differences.

Au glossed over concepts of daughters and sons, animals portrayed as werewolves, time management, weapons, plants, cloning processes, and of course - very vaguely and without literal depiction - colors. She learned of Eve and the garden, the Queen’s devotion to a God, and a great deal of lies hidden to keep everyone in the white void at ease. She sat in the back of classes when she wasn’t in the library - the bell alerts in the white hallways, and a vastness of rooms with white charging systems to maintain a peaceful aura.

Queen Lau had a yearning desire to keep Au out of the orange storage room - but she knew the princess would become more powerful than her. She didn’t need classes - she need not help anyone but herself. The Queen started tracking her essays on cooperations and she had a certain flow yet unsteadiness - ergo Cablasay soon to burst out of her, and she saved little paragraphs stolen from when she snuck in, until barriers were put up to stand private.

For Au, the hardship began - new filing techniques, discussions with head disciples - even though they could barely note the vibrant and chaotic diction spoken by the princess - more isolation from fellow academy girls, realizing royalty, and the study of a powerful God. There is another void. . .

-

The void of black was without comfort and deliberately evacuated from everything that is peaceful. There was no happiness, but only paranoia of foreign affairs. God cursed the male race and were left with turmoil and violence to be all reaction as the option till further notice. There is training, aiming to the falsities of possible intruders - domination and utter rampage if challenged. They did not know the kindness of light, and the easiness of gentle customs. They were not at war but were in treacherous, evil boredom, and violence was the task at hand to devote victory in every aspect claiming that duty and war was the skill to develop.

Yet, there was a boy: B, who was mathematically gifted and could foresee weakness in the cooperations in play from a dozen points of view. He was to preserve the boys of the academy and watch with alertness; whether they were a disorientation to the masses or if they were merely out of line in any case. The prince, B without knowing his royalty, is the security outline for all of District Black, and he kept a close eye through his technology habitat in the upper, surveillance room. Communication politics was at the utmost importance. The eyes of B was to examine progress by the students and to watch there movements all the way into their bedrooms - tracking anything abnormal, ranking skills, upgrading weapons, and times and placements relevant to scheduled drills.

His task got tiresome and B would surf the system seeking further education with histories. The grey bars of info, but the Ltn. above his shoulders - he learned an isolating unity of freedom when discovering anger was a demonic cycling, bringing the void nowhere near real progress - he wanted to be heard and seen as something not violent but pressing on the matter of intellectual appliances. Cablasay came to B; pure - hoping mindset of something else that could give him the idea of exploration and nuance of newness. The grey screens showing the placements of the academy boys, and the hallways - B typed programs, as a journal, in this language that was only recognizable by him.

The Ltn. found this data and had him briefed with the generals of the black void - pressing on the ideas of abstraction to not be taken seriously but the training and idealization of domination that was described as completely necessary. Little did they know, something was coming, and B was getting closer to the more than true story that would end this race.

Young B was lonely in the security room at this point - no friends and no new satisfactions; similarly opening and closing doors behind backs and shoulders everyday, marking actions, and making sure no one was out of line, which now he sees as the solution that is completely necessary. He kept his thoughts in his mind. Is there anyone else out there?

!!,//]->,`010011\-,/‘!! - (ZHUM) -

1. Kerna Serna ! CODE BLUE ! CODE BLUE ! ‘Go now Au - through that door - the path, through the door! Go on! Go on!’

2. ‘Go B! Go! To the door! We have failed you; you go now! You will meet her there! With heart!’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the royals made there way to the opus of exits, and to leave their home voids - the doors to be opened in the first time in a trillion years apart from the makers at the exact point of their creation - by God himself. God has snapped his finger and the voids have caved in and vanished. The only survivors: the spell broken, separation no longer. The hidden language, now to be explored and used in unity.

-

Criss cross, infinity landscape - eye to eye - yin yang - good - two doors, closed - silence - sky is open - love closing in - the affairs and mischief gone - they do a dance with their eyes - shed a tear or two - new animals - touch - lay down - blue sky - blue blood touching with skin cooling together then warming - some time - in forever - now, a boy: Kezay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whoah there, Life slave to powerful Time Travel blue eyes to the ceiling bed thoughts modern importance I get up morning injection resurrection for redirection the sky went numb inspiration at the dose vision exploration looking out the window vhuht ihez ghowienfg ahowen rose and sunflower configuration in my veins dreams I have dwell on some spectacle that I can not recall but very much breathing in my brain at nights alone with the light shining in some lamp post some attic breathing in shadows I don’t go up there but know the depths are worth as much as I pour into I don’t have pictures of my family or anything but love memorial words e whuihp zhum fhuorehvfeur where do I come from all alone in treacherous misconceptions the self indulgence is to seek something like stems on fire or a lake at a park the parks spark a dark part which I do so indulge in take me with you I want to know about this darkness and the light that reflects maybe the clouds take form and spell my name Kezay like a dream come true maybe the blue ——- And I wake up to the four houses gone now around me in a quick vanish as the sun a centimeter peeked and am trapped in a small room in the desert with only a tall tree in front. Why is my identity racing the evil I once possessed? Absolute Zero, again….

CHAPTER 1 - Think Yellow

Flutter fog-blur, and summer rain is halloween. Being that two sets of eyes peer and observe me (paranoia)_, that I can feel behind my shoulder at this moment, and they are not in control. The side-side pan grey flutter, go ‘waywayway from my window, and bother me no more while I am here in this desert. As long as the two birds sing, I did my best. The reel bought new of this year 1985 via operator and an entertainment for an empathizer viewer in a theatre, me a subject in the kitchen now. The sun shines.

It is a 24 period cycle, but o0o0o0 it is some dog collar, repath english. Row F5, the only one there besides a man up-top reading a newspaper in the control room. They are both at my suspicion and it is only a blur-pan that I pretend not to see, and it thumps vibrations in the kitchen or outside my house that I bet is their breathe or sighs - the Host Company is unknown, a random showcase to me, and they are not my creator, and control is unkown. The cycle is a relevant thought because there is recollections of the end of the world when awakened by my clock with a new scenery and nothing remembered. Two cats jump up onto the counter while I slice fruits and stare out into the infinite desert with the one tree that is quite lively but no gust, there are only a red and blue bird on the branches and something growing.

The visual sensation came from nowhere (yellow, growing object); must of been an angel that knew my dreams. *ZAP* Okay strawberry and banana smoothie. It’s not a family. It’s not a best friend. It’s a technician and a person at stand-by: two strangers with a disturbing gaze on me and my surroundings, a curiosity both ways. My two cats see without speculation, and are frantic.

Starvation creeps in and the yellow balloon came to my life and it asked how I like my steak (??) - the telepathy power mustered, ‘Well doc, not a rare education!’ And the wind picked up and there’s not transportation, I am locked in this house and am only with a window view. I go for my fix with my eyes, and the balloon untied to the tree breathed and I whispered to follow up: ‘anti christ?’ The balloon shrunk, out of sight, up the sky, and to the sun - and there was no answer. The boy speaks tragedy, ‘Give it time, fool…’ and the wind suddenly stopped and I drank my smoothie. No food, just smoothies every 00:45 after a new balloon appears attached to the branch randomly and always leaves off and away, than the smoothie all over again.

If I keep track of the balloons it eases my mind. As I gasp from the powerful life in my body, I am grateful - and here appears another yellow balloon, number 2 with the sun-hiss-roar congruent and white hairs on my head now derived. Curiouser as it goes, I feel powerless like my world is only hopeful when gazing outside the window, and as I stand up to go to the door: it is locked and I let my head hit the door with a all-natural dose of humbleness. The tree is actually quite beautiful and what a blessing it is. There is no memory of the second society collapsed for me and I was left inside to hide or I guess to wait and die. Two new birds fly onto the tree, and the sun starts to travel downward some and the color I found love and hope in was going away.

The birds make sounds. And the room stays the same, the day closing - this cycle is of minimal function and the breathes from the Outside of the huge desert bubble diminishes and the fluttering is left to one: the lady steps out of the theatre - and the man has had feet kicked up but now moving around - the theatre hit a time mark and I heard rattling; as the darkness overtook the night, the theatre is vacant, and I was left alone in a pitch black mass, and I am lonely which seems to be the idea - taking one last sip.

The cats are on the couch playing. I start muttering in a tongue - this is new, and now feel like there will be a rain storm or the tree would fall; the birds left now, but as I spoke to the ceiling there were withdrawals and I imagined being held by a figure that sort of looked like me. Then there was a knock at my door, and this time - in disbelief - there was a fresh envelope in the dark outside that slid under the door to be read right then and there on the spot - my legs frozen and hardly a breathe at all.

It read,

‘Perfect shoes for the job, perfect attire for the job, perfect but very much wished for tragedies in my repertoire, and all i want is to stop. all i want is to stop everything, to be alone. And if it all freezes i want the rainfall to keep going, and i want the people to keep moving. as you have noticed by moving, there are so many things. what will you stick in your pocket? It’s amazing right there, and breathtaking here. . .isn’t it? It is!!! And things are all right? no... right? Little experiments can get really needy, every little thing can insist on it being endlessly valuable. And no matter how terrible that is - what you somehow go back to - you can still look at it, anytime you go back.

And why would that thing ever tell you to look away when its only making it feel pretty?’

It started to rain, or is it God crying? Here we go….

Teheaih izoihlayzshun wieilhl naihet keiaill mehiegh

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM)

CHAPTER 2 - Think Brown

I asked myself about schedule. ‘Yes, Thursday should work perfectly - see ya then. Thanks for today.’ She took her hand to my hair, brushed her lips on my face, and when she drifted down, away from our eye-contact, into the subway tunnel, we were both smiling. I was of a dream that destiny allowed me to weave thru.

Thru the crowds, how could I not feel this universe for me for now finally connected? If my beliefs are challenged than I latch onto nothing, find a path thru the people relevant to progress but with personal options allowed to resurface in a millisecond in a mode that is not against any direction at all but absolutely still in point A, and the millisecond steady with my surroundings accepted just as they are. I feel light, giddy, and open. If here comes a clown: oh, here comes a clown now on the sidewalk - messy hair, colorful rainbow clothes. You and happiness, me and happiness: the car lights as circus, and the 2007 world, the technology for memory // Goodbye now active, group wonder! I knew you were not evil. Do I fear evil? The parade of stardust souls are a productive circle: okay! As I make my way indoors at my apartment, my blackberry vibrates: ’I’ll see you Thursday. Coffee? - Ash.’

-

Incoming, surprising and unsettling set back that will require some learning; bad dream with a dark and unpleasant, morning outcome. My cat woke me on the floor, with terror sweats and yet a random craving to smell any and all flowers. The tv was buzzing an argument from a terrifying soap-opera scene with yelling and violence. I flipped it off and fell back to the floor with my hands reaching up to the sky due to the feeling of being pushed, pulled, and torn away from self control, ergo exhaustion from a long night of a troublesome amount of voodoo demons entering my brain and now causing me a great deal of anxiety and stress: I walk to the bathroom for a shower. Man, now my reality has been shaken.

I could not bring myself to look in the mirror, no doubt I was pale and deranged but the haunting shapes of body or objects is just too overwhelming now - the shower is running and the tile is cool so I let my body collapse to the floor once more. My shadow is lost from the light but paranoia touches my shoulders for a moment and shivers run around so much. My cat’s paw is reaching underneath the door crack, and then I get up and put my head underneath the water. What if all that blooms molded, struck dead?

My best friend Malcom used to say, ‘Kezay, you do not have to start a fire to burn your toast.’ And if we were to feed ducks he would try to swim. My life is a witness to flowers, and they are vibrant with power - beauty is not luck, it is everything and in everything for a reason to catch you when you fall. The friends I have and the people that have cleared my gloomy days with sunshine, just being who they are, is how glee maneuvers into a soul to be changed and different forever. I use to hang out at his neighborhood fountain park; taking pictures and all. When we got high and he was there too: he kissed me on the lips. Wuiehit iaein teuieh whrorieild?

If anything, the evil one is me. All wonder is there and here, but they mold together making them very bizarre and unrecognizable. My family is across the country, my old friends have new paths, and I am here almost crying, now crying in an overwhelmed body and mind. Maybe the world is waiting for me to make the spectacle, or being free is just freeing yourself - standing up with a goal in mind. Thoughts are glowing different shades, and matching them or latching onto them is essential - and it is just situational. I know love can happen.

The television is roaring laughter, and I was my face in the bathroom while the toast is doing so in the kitchen. I jot down in a notebook: ‘2007 Boston Circus: Prealien Spree, Opening night.’  I could love myself: the clown, clown, clown, clown….chaotic colors and terrifying confusion, but I know I am paranoid. God, smite these demons - show me genuine goodness and part the abstractions into a manageable design. I look in the mirror and my telephone rings. Maybe I will never be understood, but I know there is good. ‘Hello.’ And that is when I realized I would not fear the coffee scenario wearing a plain, colorless shirt and I would embrace the vibrations of the world and of my friend Ashely, regardless if the world was ending in a terrifying way - I have faith.

She wore orange and smelled like flowers: connected once again; love is the thing with colors - from nothing to something, from terror to optimistic spectrum.

E Whuiehp, e whuiehp.

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM)

CHAPTER 3 - Think Blue

Outside the church in the year 1904, I am a woman - not a woman - a woman, or I love a woman. Her baby stopped his crying, now in my arms while the choir sings inside, ‘Glory to God! Glory to God!’

We sit under the one tall tree on the side of the building that is all on a small hill - looking out to infinite land and the openness is breathtaking and peaceful. The babe lays on his back and points up: a cat stuck in a tree, purring; not frightened. The baby makes a soft sound, and God speaks and reminds me how I have disregarded the lion. The Lord says, ‘Feiehgeur teieh paeeiuhteh, goeiuhdhn!’ I look out and up to the vastness of the sky, and I could talk back.

She was unfaithful with our bond years and years ago, and we are back together, now with her son outside to calm the crying away from distracting the ongoing service inside the church - but the baby still staring up at the cat, calm. The man I want to be keeps patience and empathy close - my selfishness will not infect anything anymore and I will be grateful. Pressure arises in our universe and life may be troublesome, but I somehow feel hopefulness in the air. Thank you Lord.

I whisper to the sky: zhum, zhum, zhum, zhum.

I hear: zhum.

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (RE: VOID) code 645372 (love, rainbow)

fin

jhagwrites@protonmail.com

[loveittwcolors]

Love is the thing with colors 

by Hui Kj

PROLOGUE 

Queen Lau ruled the women of District Orange with grace and youth. She birthed the princess of the white void to be hidden in normalities, vastly unknown by the mass women, but simply as Au - keeper of the library, ergo the centerpiece of the hallways and the religion of D.O. There was no more war in the white void, and no collisions with what differed - there were only women and there was only knowledge of peace - although, Queen Lau was the daughter of the goddess Eve; the idealization of purity and individuality. 

Eve fled the desert with her daughter Lau and walked into the light of the sky to be seen no longer by animals or the soon leaders of threatening places. To be of nature in single and to clone flesh and processes infinitely and with ease. Everyone - white, straight hair - pale orange eyes, and a hidden language parallel with the opposite void that was not found or learned - but birthed into Au with a sibling vessel. She had a pressing mischief that made her vastly different than her mother and the girls in her academy. This language is doom to resolution yet a centerpiece of creation for the time, and her mind has not been centered with tongue; ergo she stutters and the vowel sounds are twisted and prolonged. All the other women spoke a simple language of gentleness with no new concepts - but repetition and contentment. 

The princess of D.O., although treated as a regularity and thought of herself as an average white, hallway student - with a special library privilege in time and having the distribution process as her job, and was keenly interested in language and voids in general right from her birth. The Queen immediately took action and cut her off browsing complexities. 

Au could not have a roommate, could not have a friend. The only dialogue she maintained in was the library distribution check-outs, and the occasionally meeting with her mother - but Au, in the unknown of her family line - always thought she was in trouble with Queen Lau because she was the curious type - and she knew about some of the books that were in restricted cases in some orange storage room. This was mostly labeled and disguised as fiction written by The Queen - and not even the disciples or managers of the Orange District knew such things as differences. 

Au glossed over concepts of daughters and sons, animals portrayed as werewolves, time management, weapons, plants, cloning processes, and of course - very vaguely and without literal depiction - colors. She learned of Eve and the garden, the Queen’s devotion to a God, and a great deal of lies hidden to keep everyone in the white void at ease. She sat in the back of classes when she wasn’t in the library - the bell alerts in the white hallways, and a vastness of rooms with white charging systems to maintain a peaceful aura. 

Queen Lau had a yearning desire to keep Au out of the orange storage room - but she knew the princess would become more powerful than her. She didn’t need classes - she need not help anyone but herself. The Queen started tracking her essays on cooperations and she had a certain flow yet unsteadiness - ergo Cablasay soon to burst out of her, and she saved little paragraphs stolen from when she snuck in, until barriers were put up to stand private. 

For Au, the hardship began - new filing techniques, discussions with head disciples - even though they could barely note the vibrant and chaotic diction spoken by the princess - more isolation from fellow academy girls, realizing royalty, and the study of a powerful God. There is another void. . .

-

The void of black was without comfort and deliberately evacuated from everything that is peaceful. There was no happiness, but only paranoia of foreign affairs. God cursed the male race and were left with turmoil and violence to be all reaction as the option till further notice. There is training, aiming to the falsities of possible intruders - domination and utter rampage if challenged. They did not know the kindness of light, and the easiness of gentle customs. They were not at war but were in treacherous, evil boredom, and violence was the task at hand to devote victory in every aspect claiming that duty and war was the skill to develop. 

Yet, there was a boy: B, who was mathematically gifted and could foresee weakness in the cooperations in play from a dozen points of view. He was to preserve the boys of the academy and watch with alertness; whether they were a disorientation to the masses or if they were merely out of line in any case. The prince, B without knowing his royalty, is the security outline for all of District Black, and he kept a close eye through his technology habitat in the upper, surveillance room. Communication politics was at the utmost importance. The eyes of B was to examine progress by the students and to watch there movements all the way into their bedrooms - tracking anything abnormal, ranking skills, upgrading weapons, and times and placements relevant to scheduled drills.

His task got tiresome and B would surf the system seeking further education with histories. The grey bars of info, but the Ltn. above his shoulders - he learned an isolating unity of freedom when discovering anger was a demonic cycling, bringing the void nowhere near real progress - he wanted to be heard and seen as something not violent but pressing on the matter of intellectual appliances. Cablasay came to B; pure - hoping mindset of something else that could give him the idea of exploration and nuance of newness. The grey screens showing the placements of the academy boys, and the hallways - B typed programs, as a journal, in this language that was only recognizable by him. 

The Ltn. found this data and had him briefed with the generals of the black void - pressing on the ideas of abstraction to not be taken seriously but the training and idealization of domination that was described as completely necessary. Little did they know, something was coming, and B was getting closer to the more than true story that would end this race.

Young B was lonely in the security room at this point - no friends and no new satisfactions; similarly opening and closing doors behind backs and shoulders everyday, marking actions, and making sure no one was out of line, which now he sees as the solution that is completely necessary. He kept his thoughts in his mind. Is there anyone else out there?

!!,//]->,`010011\-,/‘!! - (ZHUM) -

  1. Kerna Serna ! CODE BLUE ! CODE BLUE ! ‘Go now Au - through that door - the path, through the door! Go on! Go on!’

2. ‘Go B! Go! To the door! We have failed you; you go now! You will meet her there! With heart!’ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the royals made there way to the opus of exits, and to leave their home voids - the doors to be opened in the first time in a trillion years apart from the makers at the exact point of their creation - by God himself. God has snapped his finger and the voids have caved in and vanished. The only survivors: the spell broken, separation no longer. The hidden language, now to be explored and used in unity. 

-

Criss cross, infinity landscape - eye to eye - yin yang - good - two doors, closed - silence - sky is open - love closing in - the affairs and mischief gone - they do a dance with their eyes - shed a tear or two - new animals - touch - lay down - blue sky - blue blood touching with skin cooling together then warming - some time - in forever - now, a boy: Kezay. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whoah there, Life slave to powerful Time Travel blue eyes to the ceiling bed thoughts modern importance I get up morning injection resurrection for redirection the sky went numb inspiration at the dose vision exploration looking out the window vhuht ihez ghowienfg ahowen rose and sunflower configuration in my veins dreams I have dwell on some spectacle that I can not recall but very much breathing in my brain at nights alone with the light shining in some lamp post some attic breathing in shadows I don’t go up there but know the depths are worth as much as I pour into I don’t have pictures of my family or anything but love memorial words e whuihp zhum fhuorehvfeur where do I come from all alone in treacherous misconceptions the self indulgence is to seek something like stems on fire or a lake at a park the parks spark a dark part which I do so indulge in take me with you I want to know about this darkness and the light that reflects maybe the clouds take form and spell my name Kezay like a dream come true maybe the blue ——- And I wake up to the four houses gone now around me in a quick vanish as the sun a centimeter peeked and am trapped in a small room in the desert with only a tall tree in front. Why is my identity racing the evil I once possessed? Absolute Zero, again….

CHAPTER 1 - Think Yellow

Flutter fog-blur, and summer rain is halloween. Being that two sets of eyes peer and observe me (paranoia)_, that I can feel behind my shoulder at this moment, and they are not in control. The side-side pan grey flutter, go ‘waywayway from my window, and bother me no more while I am here in this desert. As long as the two birds sing, I did my best. The reel bought new of this year 1985 via operator and an entertainment for an empathizer viewer in a theatre, me a subject in the kitchen now. The sun shines.

It is a 24 period cycle, but o0o0o0 it is some dog collar, repath english. Row F5, the only one there besides a man up-top reading a newspaper in the control room. They are both at my suspicion and it is only a blur-pan that I pretend not to see, and it thumps vibrations in the kitchen or outside my house that I bet is their breathe or sighs - the Host Company is unknown, a random showcase to me, and they are not my creator, and control is unkown. The cycle is a relevant thought because there is recollections of the end of the world when awakened by my clock with a new scenery and nothing remembered. Two cats jump up onto the counter while I slice fruits and stare out into the infinite desert with the one tree that is quite lively but no gust, there are only a red and blue bird on the branches and something growing. 

The visual sensation came from nowhere (yellow, growing object); must of been an angel that knew my dreams. *ZAP* Okay strawberry and banana smoothie. It’s not a family. It’s not a best friend. It’s a technician and a person at stand-by: two strangers with a disturbing gaze on me and my surroundings, a curiosity both ways. My two cats see without speculation, and are frantic.

Starvation creeps in and the yellow balloon came to my life and it asked how I like my steak (??) - the telepathy power mustered, ‘Well doc, not a rare education!’ And the wind picked up and there’s not transportation, I am locked in this house and am only with a window view. I go for my fix with my eyes, and the balloon untied to the tree breathed and I whispered to follow up: ‘anti christ?’ The balloon shrunk, out of sight, up the sky, and to the sun - and there was no answer. The boy speaks tragedy, ‘Give it time, fool…’ and the wind suddenly stopped and I drank my smoothie. No food, just smoothies every 00:45 after a new balloon appears attached to the branch randomly and always leaves off and away, than the smoothie all over again. 

If I keep track of the balloons it eases my mind. As I gasp from the powerful life in my body, I am grateful - and here appears another yellow balloon, number 2 with the sun-hiss-roar congruent and white hairs on my head now derived. Curiouser as it goes, I feel powerless like my world is only hopeful when gazing outside the window, and as I stand up to go to the door: it is locked and I let my head hit the door with a all-natural dose of humbleness. The tree is actually quite beautiful and what a blessing it is. There is no memory of the second society collapsed for me and I was left inside to hide or I guess to wait and die. Two new birds fly onto the tree, and the sun starts to travel downward some and the color I found love and hope in was going away. 

The birds make sounds. And the room stays the same, the day closing - this cycle is of minimal function and the breathes from the Outside of the huge desert bubble diminishes and the fluttering is left to one: the lady steps out of the theatre - and the man has had feet kicked up but now moving around - the theatre hit a time mark and I heard rattling; as the darkness overtook the night, the theatre is vacant, and I was left alone in a pitch black mass, and I am lonely which seems to be the idea - taking one last sip.

The cats are on the couch playing. I start muttering in a tongue - this is new, and now feel like there will be a rain storm or the tree would fall; the birds left now, but as I spoke to the ceiling there were withdrawals and I imagined being held by a figure that sort of looked like me. Then there was a knock at my door, and this time - in disbelief - there was a fresh envelope in the dark outside that slid under the door to be read right then and there on the spot - my legs frozen and hardly a breathe at all. 

It read, 

‘Perfect shoes for the job, perfect attire for the job, perfect but very much wished for tragedies in my repertoire, and all i want is to stop. all i want is to stop everything, to be alone. And if it all freezes i want the rainfall to keep going, and i want the people to keep moving. as you have noticed by moving, there are so many things. what will you stick in your pocket? It’s amazing right there, and breathtaking here. . .isn’t it? It is!!! And things are all right? no... right? Little experiments can get really needy, every little thing can insist on it being endlessly valuable. And no matter how terrible that is - what you somehow go back to - you can still look at it, anytime you go back. 

And why would that thing ever tell you to look away when its only making it feel pretty?’

It started to rain, or is it God crying? Here we go….

Teheaih izoihlayzshun wieilhl naihet keiaill mehiegh 

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM) 

CHAPTER 2 - Think Brown

I asked myself about schedule. ‘Yes, Thursday should work perfectly - see ya then. Thanks for today.’ She took her hand to my hair, brushed her lips on my face, and when she drifted down, away from our eye-contact, into the subway tunnel, we were both smiling. I was of a dream that destiny allowed me to weave thru. 

Thru the crowds, how could I not feel this universe for me for now finally connected? If my beliefs are challenged than I latch onto nothing, find a path thru the people relevant to progress but with personal options allowed to resurface in a millisecond in a mode that is not against any direction at all but absolutely still in point A, and the millisecond steady with my surroundings accepted just as they are. I feel light, giddy, and open. If here comes a clown: oh, here comes a clown now on the sidewalk - messy hair, colorful rainbow clothes. You and happiness, me and happiness: the car lights as circus, and the 2007 world, the technology for memory // Goodbye now active, group wonder! I knew you were not evil. Do I fear evil? The parade of stardust souls are a productive circle: okay! As I make my way indoors at my apartment, my blackberry vibrates: ’I’ll see you Thursday. Coffee? - Ash.’

-

Incoming, surprising and unsettling set back that will require some learning; bad dream with a dark and unpleasant, morning outcome. My cat woke me on the floor, with terror sweats and yet a random craving to smell any and all flowers. The tv was buzzing an argument from a terrifying soap-opera scene with yelling and violence. I flipped it off and fell back to the floor with my hands reaching up to the sky due to the feeling of being pushed, pulled, and torn away from self control, ergo exhaustion from a long night of a troublesome amount of voodoo demons entering my brain and now causing me a great deal of anxiety and stress: I walk to the bathroom for a shower. Man, now my reality has been shaken.

I could not bring myself to look in the mirror, no doubt I was pale and deranged but the haunting shapes of body or objects is just too overwhelming now - the shower is running and the tile is cool so I let my body collapse to the floor once more. My shadow is lost from the light but paranoia touches my shoulders for a moment and shivers run around so much. My cat’s paw is reaching underneath the door crack, and then I get up and put my head underneath the water. What if all that blooms molded, struck dead?

My best friend Malcom used to say, ‘Kezay, you do not have to start a fire to burn your toast.’ And if we were to feed ducks he would try to swim. My life is a witness to flowers, and they are vibrant with power - beauty is not luck, it is everything and in everything for a reason to catch you when you fall. The friends I have and the people that have cleared my gloomy days with sunshine, just being who they are, is how glee maneuvers into a soul to be changed and different forever. I use to hang out at his neighborhood fountain park; taking pictures and all. When we got high and he was there too: he kissed me on the lips. Wuiehit iaein teuieh whrorieild? 

If anything, the evil one is me. All wonder is there and here, but they mold together making them very bizarre and unrecognizable. My family is across the country, my old friends have new paths, and I am here almost crying, now crying in an overwhelmed body and mind. Maybe the world is waiting for me to make the spectacle, or being free is just freeing yourself - standing up with a goal in mind. Thoughts are glowing different shades, and matching them or latching onto them is essential - and it is just situational. I know love can happen.

The television is roaring laughter, and I was my face in the bathroom while the toast is doing so in the kitchen. I jot down in a notebook: ‘2007 Boston Circus: Prealien Spree, Opening night.’  I could love myself: the clown, clown, clown, clown….chaotic colors and terrifying confusion, but I know I am paranoid. God, smite these demons - show me genuine goodness and part the abstractions into a manageable design. I look in the mirror and my telephone rings. Maybe I will never be understood, but I know there is good. ‘Hello.’ And that is when I realized I would not fear the coffee scenario wearing a plain, colorless shirt and I would embrace the vibrations of the world and of my friend Ashely, regardless if the world was ending in a terrifying way - I have faith.

She wore orange and smelled like flowers: connected once again; love is the thing with colors - from nothing to something, from terror to optimistic spectrum. 

E Whuiehp, e whuiehp. 

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM)

CHAPTER 3 - Think Blue

Outside the church in the year 1904, I am a woman - not a woman - a woman, or I love a woman. Her baby stopped his crying, now in my arms while the choir sings inside, ‘Glory to God! Glory to God!’ 

We sit under the one tall tree on the side of the building that is all on a small hill - looking out to infinite land and the openness is breathtaking and peaceful. The babe lays on his back and points up: a cat stuck in a tree, purring; not frightened. The baby makes a soft sound, and God speaks and reminds me how I have disregarded the lion. The Lord says, ‘Feiehgeur teieh paeeiuhteh, goeiuhdhn!’ I look out and up to the vastness of the sky, and I could talk back.

She was unfaithful with our bond years and years ago, and we are back together, now with her son outside to calm the crying away from distracting the ongoing service inside the church - but the baby still staring up at the cat, calm. The man I want to be keeps patience and empathy close - my selfishness will not infect anything anymore and I will be grateful. Pressure arises in our universe and life may be troublesome, but I somehow feel hopefulness in the air. Thank you Lord.

I whisper to the sky: zhum, zhum, zhum, zhum. 

I hear: zhum.

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (RE: VOID) code 645372 (love, rainbow)

fin

jhagwrites@protonmail.com

[littwc]

Love is the thing with colors 

by Hui Kj

PROLOGUE 

Queen Lau ruled the women of District Orange with grace and youth. She birthed the princess of the white void to be hidden in normalities, vastly unknown by the mass women, but simply as Au - keeper of the library, ergo the centerpiece of the hallways and the religion of D.O. There was no more war in the white void, and no collisions with what differed - there were only women and there was only knowledge of peace - although, Queen Lau was the daughter of the goddess Eve; the idealization of purity and individuality. 

Eve fled the desert with her daughter Lau and walked into the light of the sky to be seen no longer by animals or the soon leaders of threatening places. To be of nature in single and to clone flesh and processes infinitely and with ease. Everyone - white, straight hair - pale orange eyes, and a hidden language parallel with the opposite void that was not found or learned - but birthed into Au with a sibling vessel. She had a pressing mischief that made her vastly different than her mother and the girls in her academy. This language is doom to resolution yet a centerpiece of creation for the time, and her mind has not been centered with tongue; ergo she stutters and the vowel sounds are twisted and prolonged. All the other women spoke a simple language of gentleness with no new concepts - but repetition and contentment. 

The princess of D.O., although treated as a regularity and thought of herself as an average white, hallway student - with a special library privilege in time and having the distribution process as her job, and was keenly interested in language and voids in general right from her birth. The Queen immediately took action and cut her off browsing complexities. 

Au could not have a roommate, could not have a friend. The only dialogue she maintained in was the library distribution check-outs, and the occasionally meeting with her mother - but Au, in the unknown of her family line - always thought she was in trouble with Queen Lau because she was the curious type - and she knew about some of the books that were in restricted cases in some orange storage room. This was mostly labeled and disguised as fiction written by The Queen - and not even the disciples or managers of the Orange District knew such things as differences. 

Au glossed over concepts of daughters and sons, animals portrayed as werewolves, time management, weapons, plants, cloning processes, and of course - very vaguely and without literal depiction - colors. She learned of Eve and the garden, the Queen’s devotion to a God, and a great deal of lies hidden to keep everyone in the white void at ease. She sat in the back of classes when she wasn’t in the library - the bell alerts in the white hallways, and a vastness of rooms with white charging systems to maintain a peaceful aura. 

Queen Lau had a yearning desire to keep Au out of the orange storage room - but she knew the princess would become more powerful than her. She didn’t need classes - she need not help anyone but herself. The Queen started tracking her essays on cooperations and she had a certain flow yet unsteadiness - ergo Cablasay soon to burst out of her, and she saved little paragraphs stolen from when she snuck in, until barriers were put up to stand private. 

For Au, the hardship began - new filing techniques, discussions with head disciples - even though they could barely note the vibrant and chaotic diction spoken by the princess - more isolation from fellow academy girls, realizing royalty, and the study of a powerful God. There is another void. . .

-

The void of black was without comfort and deliberately evacuated from everything that is peaceful. There was no happiness, but only paranoia of foreign affairs. God cursed the male race and were left with turmoil and violence to be all reaction as the option till further notice. There is training, aiming to the falsities of possible intruders - domination and utter rampage if challenged. They did not know the kindness of light, and the easiness of gentle customs. They were not at war but were in treacherous, evil boredom, and violence was the task at hand to devote victory in every aspect claiming that duty and war was the skill to develop. 

Yet, there was a boy: B, who was mathematically gifted and could foresee weakness in the cooperations in play from a dozen points of view. He was to preserve the boys of the academy and watch with alertness; whether they were a disorientation to the masses or if they were merely out of line in any case. The prince, B without knowing his royalty, is the security outline for all of District Black, and he kept a close eye through his technology habitat in the upper, surveillance room. Communication politics was at the utmost importance. The eyes of B was to examine progress by the students and to watch there movements all the way into their bedrooms - tracking anything abnormal, ranking skills, upgrading weapons, and times and placements relevant to scheduled drills.

His task got tiresome and B would surf the system seeking further education with histories. The grey bars of info, but the Ltn. above his shoulders - he learned an isolating unity of freedom when discovering anger was a demonic cycling, bringing the void nowhere near real progress - he wanted to be heard and seen as something not violent but pressing on the matter of intellectual appliances. Cablasay came to B; pure - hoping mindset of something else that could give him the idea of exploration and nuance of newness. The grey screens showing the placements of the academy boys, and the hallways - B typed programs, as a journal, in this language that was only recognizable by him. 

The Ltn. found this data and had him briefed with the generals of the black void - pressing on the ideas of abstraction to not be taken seriously but the training and idealization of domination that was described as completely necessary. Little did they know, something was coming, and B was getting closer to the more than true story that would end this race.

Young B was lonely in the security room at this point - no friends and no new satisfactions; similarly opening and closing doors behind backs and shoulders everyday, marking actions, and making sure no one was out of line, which now he sees as the solution that is completely necessary. He kept his thoughts in his mind. Is there anyone else out there?

!!,//]->,`010011\-,/‘!! - (ZHUM) -

 1. Kerna Serna ! CODE BLUE ! CODE BLUE ! ‘Go now Au - through that door - the path, through the door! Go on! Go on!’

2. ‘Go B! Go! To the door! We have failed you; you go now! You will meet her there! With heart!’ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the royals made there way to the opus of exits, and to leave their home voids - the doors to be opened in the first time in a trillion years apart from the makers at the exact point of their creation - by God himself. God has snapped his finger and the voids have caved in and vanished. The only survivors: the spell broken, separation no longer. The hidden language, now to be explored and used in unity. 

-

Criss cross, infinity landscape - eye to eye - yin yang - good - two doors, closed - silence - sky is open - love closing in - the affairs and mischief gone - they do a dance with their eyes - shed a tear or two - new animals - touch - lay down - blue sky - blue blood touching with skin cooling together then warming - some time - in forever - now, a boy: Kezay. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whoah there, Life slave to powerful Time Travel blue eyes to the ceiling bed thoughts modern cross I get up morning injection resurrection for redirection the sky went numb inspiration at the dose vision exploration looking out the window vhuht ihez ghowienfg ahowen rose and sunflower configuration in my veins dreams I have dwell on some spectacle that I can not recall but very much breathing in my brain at nights alone with the light shining in some lamp post some attic breathing in shadows I don’t go up there but know the depths are worth as much as I pour into I don’t have pictures of my family or anything but love memorial words e whuihp zhum fhuorehvfeur where do I come from all alone in treacherous misconceptions the self indulgence is to seek something like stems on fire or a lake at a park the parks spark a dark part which I do so indulge in take me with you I want to know about this darkness and the light that reflects maybe the clouds take form and spell my name Kezay like a dream come true maybe the blue ——- And I wake up to the four houses gone now around me in a quick vanish as the sun a centimeter peeked and am trapped in a small room in the desert with only a tall tree in front. Why is my identity racing the evil I once possessed? Absolute Zero, again….

CHAPTER 1 - Think Yellow

Flutter fog-blur, and summer rain is halloween. Being that two sets of eyes peer and observe me (paranoia)_, that I can feel behind my shoulder at this moment, and they are not in control. The side-side pan grey flutter, go ‘waywayway from my window, and bother me no more while I am here in this desert. As long as the two birds sing, I did my best. The reel bought new of this year 1985 via operator and an entertainment for an empathizer viewer in a theatre, me a subject in the kitchen now. The sun shines.

It is a 24 period cycle, but o0o0o0 it is some dog collar, repath english. Row F5, the only one there besides a man up-top reading a newspaper in the control room. They are both at my suspicion and it is only a blur-pan that I pretend not to see, and it thumps vibrations in the kitchen or outside my house that I bet is their breathe or sighs - the Host Company is unknown, a random showcase to me, and they are not my creator, and control is unkown. The cycle is a relevant thought because there is recollections of the end of the world when awakened by my clock with a new scenery and nothing remembered. Two cats jump up onto the counter while I slice fruits and stare out into the infinite desert with the one tree that is quite lively but no gust, there are only a red and blue bird on the branches and something growing. 

The visual sensation came from nowhere (yellow, growing object); must of been an angel that knew my dreams. *ZAP* Okay strawberry and banana smoothie. It’s not a family. It’s not a best friend. It’s a technician and a person at stand-by: two strangers with a disturbing gaze on me and my surroundings, a curiosity both ways. My two cats see without speculation, and are frantic.

Starvation creeps in and the yellow balloon came to my life and it asked how I like my steak (??) - the telepathy power mustered, ‘Well doc, not a rare education!’ And the wind picked up and there’s not transportation, I am locked in this house and am only with a window view. I go for my fix with my eyes, and the balloon untied to the tree breathed and I whispered to follow up: ‘anti christ?’ The balloon shrunk, out of sight, up the sky, and to the sun - and there was no answer. The boy speaks tragedy, ‘Give it time, fool…’ and the wind suddenly stopped and I drank my smoothie. No food, just smoothies every 00:45 after a new balloon appears attached to the branch randomly and always leaves off and away, than the smoothie all over again. 

If I keep track of the balloons it eases my mind. As I gasp from the powerful life in my body, I am grateful - and here appears another yellow balloon, number 2 with the sun-hiss-roar congruent and white hairs on my head now derived. Curiouser as it goes, I feel powerless like my world is only hopeful when gazing outside the window, and as I stand up to go to the door: it is locked and I let my head hit the door with a all-natural dose of humbleness. The tree is actually quite beautiful and what a blessing it is. There is no memory of the second society collapsed for me and I was left inside to hide or I guess to wait and die. Two new birds fly onto the tree, and the sun starts to travel downward some and the color I found love and hope in was going away. 

The birds make sounds. And the room stays the same, the day closing - this cycle is of minimal function and the breathes from the Outside of the huge desert bubble diminishes and the fluttering is left to one: the lady steps out of the theatre - and the man has had feet kicked up but now moving around - the theatre hit a time mark and I heard rattling; as the darkness overtook the night, the theatre is vacant, and I was left alone in a pitch black mass, and I am lonely which seems to be the idea - taking one last sip.

The cats are on the couch playing. I start muttering in a tongue - this is new, and now feel like there will be a rain storm or the tree would fall; the birds left now, but as I spoke to the ceiling there were withdrawals and I imagined being held by a figure that sort of looked like me. Then there was a knock at my door, and this time - in disbelief - there was a fresh envelope in the dark outside that slid under the door to be read right then and there on the spot - my legs frozen and hardly a breathe at all. 

It read, 

‘Perfect shoes for the job, perfect attire for the job, perfect but very much wished for tragedies in my repertoire, and all i want is to stop. all i want is to stop everything, to be alone. And if it all freezes i want the rainfall to keep going, and i want the people to keep moving. as you have noticed by moving, there are so many things. what will you stick in your pocket? It’s amazing right there, and breathtaking here. . .isn’t it? It is!!! And things are all right? no... right? Little experiments can get really needy, every little thing can insist on it being endlessly valuable. And no matter how terrible that is - what you somehow go back to - you can still look at it, anytime you go back. 

And why would that thing ever tell you to look away when its only making it feel pretty?’

It started to rain, or is it God crying? Here we go….

Teheaih izoihlayzshun wieilhl naihet keiaill mehiegh 

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM) 

CHAPTER 2 - Think Brown

I asked myself about schedule. ‘Yes, Thursday should work perfectly - see ya then. Thanks for today.’ She took her hand to my hair, brushed her lips on my face, and when she drifted down, away from our eye-contact, into the subway tunnel, we were both smiling. I was of a dream that destiny allowed me to weave thru. 

Thru the crowds, how could I not feel this universe for me for now finally connected? If my beliefs are challenged than I latch onto nothing, find a path thru the people relevant to progress but with personal options allowed to resurface in a millisecond in a mode that is not against any direction at all but absolutely still in point A, and the millisecond steady with my surroundings accepted just as they are. I feel light, giddy, and open. If here comes a clown: oh, here comes a clown now on the sidewalk - messy hair, colorful rainbow clothes. You and happiness, me and happiness: the car lights as circus, and the 2007 world, the technology for memory // Goodbye now active, group wonder! I knew you were not evil. Do I fear evil? The parade of stardust souls are a productive circle: okay! As I make my way indoors at my apartment, my blackberry vibrates: ’I’ll see you Thursday. Coffee? - Ash.’

-

Incoming, surprising and unsettling set back that will require some learning; bad dream with a dark and unpleasant, morning outcome. My cat woke me on the floor, with terror sweats and yet a random craving to smell any and all flowers. The tv was buzzing an argument from a terrifying soap-opera scene with yelling and violence. I flipped it off and fell back to the floor with my hands reaching up to the sky due to the feeling of being pushed, pulled, and torn away from self control, ergo exhaustion from a long night of a troublesome amount of voodoo demons entering my brain and now causing me a great deal of anxiety and stress: I walk to the bathroom for a shower. Man, now my reality has been shaken.

I could not bring myself to look in the mirror, no doubt I was pale and deranged but the haunting shapes of body or objects is just too overwhelming now - the shower is running and the tile is cool so I let my body collapse to the floor once more. My shadow is lost from the light but paranoia touches my shoulders for a moment and shivers run around so much. My cat’s paw is reaching underneath the door crack, and then I get up and put my head underneath the water. What if all that blooms molded, struck dead?

My best friend Malcom used to say, ‘Kezay, you do not have to start a fire to burn your toast.’ And if we were to feed ducks he would try to swim. My life is a witness to flowers, and they are vibrant with power - beauty is not luck, it is everything and in everything for a reason to catch you when you fall. The friends I have and the people that have cleared my gloomy days with sunshine, just being who they are, is how glee maneuvers into a soul to be changed and different forever. I use to hang out at his neighborhood fountain park; taking pictures and all. When we got high and he was there too: he kissed me on the lips. Wuiehit iaein teuieh whrorieild? 

If anything, the evil one is me. All wonder is there and here, but they mold together making them very bizarre and unrecognizable. My family is across the country, my old friends have new paths, and I am here almost crying, now crying in an overwhelmed body and mind. Maybe the world is waiting for me to make the spectacle, or being free is just freeing yourself - standing up with a goal in mind. Thoughts are glowing different shades, and matching them or latching onto them is essential - and it is just situational. I know love can happen.

The television is roaring laughter, and I was my face in the bathroom while the toast is doing so in the kitchen. I jot down in a notebook: ‘2007 Boston Circus: Prealien Spree, Opening night.’  I could love myself: the clown, clown, clown, clown….chaotic colors and terrifying confusion, but I know I am paranoid. God, smite these demons - show me genuine goodness and part the abstractions into a manageable design. I look in the mirror and my telephone rings. Maybe I will never be understood, but I know there is good. ‘Hello.’ And that is when I realized I would not fear the coffee scenario wearing a plain, colorless shirt and I would embrace the vibrations of the world and of my friend Ashely, regardless if the world was ending in a terrifying way - I have faith.

She wore orange and smelled like flowers: connected once again; love is the thing with colors - from nothing to something, from terror to optimistic spectrum. 

E Whuiehp, e whuiehp. 

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM)

CHAPTER 3 - Think Blue

Outside the church in the year 1904, I am a woman - not a woman - a woman, or I love a woman. Her baby stopped his crying, now in my arms while the choir sings inside, ‘Glory to God! Glory to God!’ 

We sit under the one tall tree on the side of the building that is all on a small hill - looking out to infinite land and the openness is breathtaking and peaceful. The babe lays on his back and points up: a cat stuck in a tree, purring; not frightened. The baby makes a soft sound, and God speaks and reminds me how I have disregarded the lion. The Lord says, ‘Feiehgeur teieh paeeiuhteh, goeiuhdhn!’ I look out and up to the vastness of the sky, and I could talk back.

She was unfaithful with our bond years and years ago, and we are back together, now with her son outside to calm the crying away from distracting the ongoing service inside the church - but the baby still staring up at the cat, calm. The man I want to be keeps patience and empathy close - my selfishness will not infect anything anymore and I will be grateful. Pressure arises in our universe and life may be troublesome, but I somehow feel hopefulness in the air. Thank you Lord.

I whisper to the sky: zhum, zhum, zhum, zhum. 

I hear: zhum.

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (RE: VOID) code 645372 (love, rainbow)

fin

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