He Would Break The World Down Piece By Piece For You, Darling

Prompt #21

AU where when two people fall in love with each other, they are stuck together forever and can’t fall in love with anyone else after.

(Character A) fell in love with (Character C) a long time ago, but (Character C) was only pretending to love them. Unaware of this, (Character A) ends up breaking up with them after finding (Character C) cheating.

Heartbroken and lonely, (Character A) runs to their best friend, (Character B), who, unbeknownst to (Character A), is in love with them.

As (Character A) recovers, they begin to fall for (Character B), but is in denial, as they believe they already had their love. (Character B) is in denial for the same reason, but soon start to suspect something is up after (Character C) claims to have found their TRUE love.

Prompt #13

(Character A) has the ability to imagine a scenario and make it come true. The problem is, they figure this out after they have already written fan fiction. Specifically, self-insert fan fiction between them and (Character B), a fictional character.

Now, they’re real, and having an existential crisis as the two of them travel through each fanfic. (Character A) wants to make things go back to normal, so that (Character B) can live their ‘normal’ life again, but is starting to genuinely fall in love with (Character B). They feel selfish, but can’t help their feelings.

(Character A) tries to deal with their guilt, and all the while, they’re oblivious to (Character B) beginning to fall in love with them.

Obviously, mutual pining ensues.

You’re walking through the woods. It’s so quiet here, so much more quiet than it used to be, and you know it. You’ve never been here before, never seen these trees before, and they look strange, but you can’t exactly place why.

Never has nature been this demented, and you can’t explain the chills running down your spine, cold water streaming down your back and never losing its consistent shock. The colours of the plants are darker here. Still, it’s simultaneously empty and grey. They’ve lost their verdant glows, and you have the sinking feeling that you will lose your own.

It’s both nostalgic and horrifying - you can feel the leaves crunching, and suddenly you are struck by the realization that it’s late spring. The river flows silently, and the leaves and water are the only sounds. You shiver. There are no birds here. They know better than to linger here. They knew better than to dissipate into the wood.

You miss the sunshine, and the familiar feeling of home. There is no light here, but you can still see, and home is so far away, and you don’t know if you can ever return, because this world is all-encompassing and you can’t shake the thought that even if you escape, this place will never truly escape you. You may never get away, you may never tear the shards of this from your mind completely.

Is this home?

You’ve been here so long. So so long. Has it been years now? Minutes or months? How can you measure this with the simplicity of time?

Would it be escape or leaving?

Somebody once said to you that the world is your oyster. What is this world? If you don’t know where you are, what do you make of it? What can you make out of nothing? Something is tugging at the edge of your consciousness. The world is swaying under your feet, dancing to a rhythm you’ve never heard before, and pulling you with it. You can feel the pieces of yourself slipping away, and it could be your vitality. It could be your colours. It could be your awareness. It could be you.

All you know is what is taking away from you.

“Mr. Sandman,” you smile deliriously. You’re so close to being gone.

Finally.

“Dream me a dream?”

You know he is what takes you when you leave.

I know I said I wouldn’t make any more sandman edits

but

I need someone to describe the exact feeling this one evokes because words are kind of failing me right now

Prompt #28

(Character A)’s friend, (Character C), has a HUGE crush on (Character B). In fact, so does (Character A), but they don’t want to start a rivalry with their already possessive friend, so they don’t mention it.

(Character C) comes up with the idea of fake-dating each other in an attempt to make (Character B) jealous, buuuuut....

(Character B) only seems jealous of (Character C).

Prompt #9

(Character A) and (Character B) are supposed to be rivals.

The story itself isn’t angsty at all.

Prompt #25

(Character A) and (Character B) are best friends, so of course, when (Character A) goes on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, they use a lifeline to call their best friend. They don’t need it, but they just wanted to talk to them before they won.

So, of course, (Character B) accidentally confesses their long-time crush on (Character A) on live television.

... Shit.

Prompt #29

Soulmate AU where the last words your soulmate says is written on your skin.

(Character A) doesn’t have any words. (Character B), their soulmate, is immortal.

as it should be

“Yellow is fake,” says Lilac to Oleander. “It is because I say so.”

Lilac tilts their head and keeps staring at the setting sun, squinting to see the colours. Oranges and yellows blended together and draped around the clouds like the most perfect curtains to ever exist, natural and ugly.

Fake.

“And all of the clouds must be paintings.” Oleander has never understood Lilac. Maybe they never would.

“What do you mean?” Lilac traces the sky with a gentle, steady hand, the clouds just barely shifting and twisting, gliding instead of pulling like a current in a river. Impossible, incomprehensible.

“Why are black and white not colors, but yellow is?” Lilac questions. Lilac has an awful lot of questions. They’ve always been curious. Not so much that they never look before they leap, but just enough to look over the edge and decide it isn’t that far of a drop.

That doesn’t mean that they would be right, however.

Oleander has always been the kind of person to never leap in the first place, let alone look. The varying perspectives is exciting the main diffference between the two.

Oleander responds, “Because black and white aren’t part of the rainbow.”

Lilac furrows their brow. “But we’re just humans. If we were mantis shrimp, and we had sixteen color receptors, then maybe black and white would be colors in the rainbow.”

Lilac gestures at all the fake colour. It dances around in streaks, brush strokes painting lines stolen right off the rainbow. “Why are we allowed to judge that if we can’t know for sure? Why can’t I declare that yellow is fake, like black and white?”

“Because we want labels.” Oleander is becoming annoyed. “We want labels, because we want to have purpose and meaning. We want to be defined. Purpose is having a place, a contribution to something. That gives us purpose, or whatever we think is purpose anyways.

“We all want purpose, because without it we don’t have meaning.”

“But why can’t we have no labels and still have meaning and purpose?” Lilac runs a hand through their hair, squeezing their eyes shut and staring at the yellows in the backs of their eyelids instead. Comforting fireworks of golden sparks, raining down in waves. An ocean of fiery yellow. It’s fake. “Labels don’t indicate worth. Labels aren’t a purpose. They’re a box. People can’t fit in boxes. I mean, I haven’t ever tried, but I don’t think the shapes would match up.”

Oleander may never understand Lilac, but they will always listen, in case one day, they find an answer in the horde of never-ending questions. In case one day, Oleander figures out why Lilac keeps them up all night when they’re not even there.

In case one day, Oleander won’t have to strike through their thoughts anymore.

“Because boxes are comforting. They’re a safe place. A shelter. And people aren’t always comfortable in their own selves, so sometimes they’ll put themselves in shelters. They’ll make a home in a label because they can’t find one in their own mind.” The words are spilling out of their mouth, clumps and pieces jumbling together. “They don’t feel comfortable with who they are, so they try to make themselves someone they like because they think that they’ll be comfortable with someone else. With a cliché.”

The words stop flowing. They drift off instead, and Oleander tries to catch them, tries to fit them in their fists. It barely works. They only snatch a single sentence. “But they never are.”

It’s a grey sentence, Oleander knows. Shiny silvery grey, colourless. It’s a truthful group of words, honest. Nothing is really black and white. Black and white sentences aren’t lies, really, but they’re always mistaken.

Grey is the only honest colour.

Oleander wonders what the least honest colour is. They think that maybe, just maybe, it might be yellow.

Lilac thinks that Oleander is right. Lilac also thinks that when they look up and open their eyes, all they can see looks like paint on the water, and their focus shifts once more.

“Crystal clear water,” they murmur. “And acrylic.”

Oleander is not following. “What?”

“The clouds,” Lilac explains. They’ve got a sleepy look on their face, and eyes like stars. “I’ve decided they’re paint on water. They can’t be real.”

Oleander wishes they could be Lilac, and see the world as simple as they do.

Just for a second.

A single, sweet second of understanding.

Oleander think about the comparisons of the both of them frequently. It’s glaringly obvious that they contrast each other greatly. One might even say that they complimented each other well.

Lilac smiles slow, small, and sweet, and Oleander doesn’t smile much at all anymore. Lilac is fantastical and creative. Oleander doesn’t even like anything other than non-fiction. Lilac always has an idea. Oleander can’t remember the last time they thought of something new, original.

Oleander wants to contribute to something. Maybe Oleander needs meaning as well.

“Maybe oil pastels on acrylic,” Oleander offers.

Lilac stretches their arms out on the grass below them, digging their fingers in the warm dirt and getting it under their nails. Wet earth stains their hands, but they don’t care. “On a canvas,” they add quietly.

Lilac feels like they could just melt into the ground, close their eyes again without looking once at the explosions of fake colours, and just fall.

Fall intangible through the core of the world, and through the other side.

Maybe even fall through China instead of digging their way there.

Fall into the sky.

Fall asleep.

And they do.

Oleander goes on to stare at the moon. And the clouds go on to being oil pastels on acrylic, and yellow goes on being fake.

Everything is wrong.

As it should be.

An old gay man named “Rainbob”

I love the story!!!!! Thank you so much, it’s beautiful. I think you’re the first person to actually reblog my post with a story they wrote, thank you.

Prompt #10

Soulmate AU where when you touch your soulmate for the first time, you see colours.

(Character A) doesn’t touch anybody, because of their fear of being stuck with someone forever.

One day, (Character A) accidentally touches their long-time best friend, (Character B) and sees colours. Since (Character B) doesn’t react, they assume (Character B) doesn’t see colours too, and is their soulmate, but (Character A) isn’t theirs.

(Character B) does see colours, but thinks that (Character A) doesn’t, and pretends they don’t see them.

Mutual pining and angst ensues.