Another one. Whoop. BTW, no canon characters, all OCs, let's see how this works out.

Disclaimer: I don't own a lot of things. A lot.


You are a girl, black hair, asleep, dreaming of gray skies protecting bus rides with blue sheep and elevators that aren't just elevators, they're also safe houses, bigger, so much bigger on the inside, lit with glass chandeliers on glass walls, a drifting ballroom as beautiful as its façade demanded, glittering like the water springing up in arches from fountains and pools present in every room.

You are a girl, artificial red hair, chewing lips, twirling hair into tight, scared rolls on fingers, typing, typing, clicking, trying hard to push through the looming firewall, trying to save your friend, always silent to others but screaming and ripping to pieces inside, a never ending war of thoughts and energy and devil's advocate wanting murder.

You are a boy, too long hair, missed this month's visit to the barber, standing quiet and tiny shivers, all your body can manage, the genius brain that could spin circles at a thousand miles an hour, a minute, now exploded into silence and what now, what next, how, why, what, why me, trying to remember the next step, after swallowing again and backing fearfully into the bedroom, staring at a computer screen.

You are a boy, dirt brown hair, next destination anywhere, anytime, didn't matter, living off borrowed goods and lost toys, running from a home and to a home, best friends with part time volunteer librarians and sugar cookies, humming with energy, trying to let the big voice and joy – fake – hide scraps and cramps, opting to ignore the unnecessary, the nah not now, for the monitor and the cruiser dragging rooms into disproportioned drywall, wires, and plumbing.

You are a child but not for another hour.

This will be the last game played.


I probably should try shunting the creative juices to updating stuff shouldn't I.

~dorandsugar