Just In Case Newer Followers Would Like To Read This :)
Just in case newer followers would like to read this :)
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.
More Posts from Wired-writing-wallflower and Others
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.
Prompt #23
(Character A) is a witch, and (Character B) promised their firstborn to them. (Character A) was joking, but (Character B), who didn’t really want kids anyways, took it completely seriously. They soon became actual friends, but then (Character B) accidentally has a kid.
Now, they have to deal with the child, and the custody issues, as (Character B) decided that they now want to be in their kid’s life.
Prompt #14
Take your OTP. Imagine them as an angel and a demon, based on personality.
Switch them.
Prompt #5
“Where will we go after we win?”
“We won’t.”
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.
Prompt #26
(Character A) meets (Character B) at the Area 51 raid. (Character B) freaks out because they work there (albeit not voluntarily, it was a family thing to work for the government), and pretends they’re an alien because they’re a pathological liar.
Fortunately(?), (Character A) is stupid and believes them, so now (Character B) has to keep up with the charade after (Character A) takes them home to rescue them from the facility.
Prompt #15
(Character A), who is a peasant, accidentally saves (Character B), who is royalty, from an assasination attempt. However, (Character B) thinks it was purposeful, and thinks they are indebted to (Character A).
(Character A) is unaware of this, and wonders why the heir to the throne is so interested in them all of a sudden.
the oasis vs the ocean
it’s freezing in the quiet empty.
cold is comforting in its honesty;
the heat may envelope me but it only burns my skin,
its lies are all-encompassing.
yet the cold is here now,
and it is blunt, but it never hugs - it loves without a single touch.
the heat tries to love,
but it sears and scratches my bones, marking and tearing at my skin.
it smears its ash over my broken body, tears turning to steam and my gasping sobs turning into a cacophony of silence.
‘would you rather die of heat or cold?’
someone once said to me that the world will either end in fire or ice.
i know what i would prefer.
i know what i would rather feel.
numbness, hot, blazing frostbite causing slow inane hallucinations, a sick parody of the little match girl.
scathing, writhing flames licking the walls and leaning in, reeking of its victims and leering at its future prey.
i know myself well.
i hate that sometimes.
did you know that cold is not a feasible term?
cold is not its own self.
cold is simply the absence of heat.
a room filled to the brim with snow is not full,
not in the way a room full of fire is.
a room full of fire is suffocation in its most simple form,
smoke rising and smothering.
the snow is breathable, almost nonexistent,
and some animals even hide in the snow for protection in the winter.
did you know that?
the heat is a hitch in your breath, it’s a splatter of ink from a shaking hand.
it is stifling and deadly, not an embrace but a chokehold.
the heat will kill fierce, passionate, ares in his most pure form.
the cold is a ghost of a touch, a never ending inhale, a whisp of an idea.
it is a weathered blanket, holed and tattered and a false shelter in the storm.
the cold will kill gentle, quiet.
there is no glory, no fight in dying of cold.
resignation is cold, so it makes sense that cold will kill with resignation.
too little or too much?
i have always been safe in my choices.
too much will never make me empty,
too much will never leave me in the dark, blind and unknowing,
too much will never let me stay alone in blue air and white breaths and blurry vision from the saltwater streaming down my crimson cheeks and lips like shattered glass,
too much will never crack me with nothing, a void in my eyes and a thousand yard stare,
too much will never keep me deathly still in anticipation until everything seeps out of me in a realization that I only anticipate anticipation.
but even so…
too little will never send a fire through my nerves and cauterize my heart,
too little will never shatter me in a haze of red and dusty charcoal,
too little will never trace delicate fingers of ember across me and scar me in the ashes,
too little will never kill me with a glance, break me with uncertainty.
drowning is inevitable either way.
i will drown in either the oasis or the ocean,
nothing or all.
too little will never satisfy me,
but too much will only hurt me.
adventure has never been my friend,
and courage is swapped for anxiety.
my mind is not my brain,
and its thoughts aren’t my choices,
so i take the safe road,
as i always do.
…..
….
…
..
.
..
…
….
…..
the oasis is an empty salvation.
the ocean is an empty home.
water is simply an empty.
in the end, i will die, and it will be silent.
it is on nights like these that i think i will live in the nothing until nothing is my everything.
until i know the nothing as my home.
...
i will never know fulfillment the way i know the empty.
Please if you are going through anything tough or need someone to talk to, reach out to someone! There are always people willing to listen and people who can help. You are loved, you have worth and you are not alone!
Here are some useful helplines and resources if you need them. Do not be afraid to ask for help! http://www.buddy-project.org/hotlines
Prompt #7
(Character A) wears dark clothes. They can manipulate the shadows. They’re quiet and intense.
(Character B) wears bright clothing. They can fly and manipulate light. They’re exuberant and bubbly.
(Character A) is a super hero. (Character B) is a super villain.
-
aiaicapitan liked this · 5 years ago -
wired-writing-wallflower reblogged this · 5 years ago -
cheezbot liked this · 5 years ago -
wired-writing-wallflower reblogged this · 5 years ago
Mostly writing prompts, but will also post little drabbles and occasionally fanfic. If you use one of my prompts, please let me know! I would love to read it.Open to submissions, questions, and possibly writing for others. You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer or consider it!Really into TØP and P!ATD. Will switch fandoms a lot, but currently into Dear Evan Hansen, the Phandom, and Good Omens. Feminist. Bisexual and proud 😊No set schedule for my posts.By the way, check out my side-blog, rhythm-on-the-offbeat, which has some memes and more random thoughts of mine! :)
58 posts