Comments | dreamfleet: Prompts [ 1 ]

dreamfleet

Prompts [ 1 ]

Jun 08, 2010 00:26

These are just writing prompts for me to finish eventually. I'll tag them with the words in comments, because I am a dork. I guess other people can too if they want, any fandom or whatever. Uh. Uh, any length, from a sentence to a novel.

Aaaand~

Here we go!

An invasion of privacy
An outline/silhouette/print of a hand
Silvery lavender
Two people ( Read more... )

!incomplete, dorking, writing, prompts

Comments 18

Coloring dreamfleet June 7 2010, 22:30:21 UTC

Namine knows that her crayon-drawings aren't the best in the world. In fact, she knows if she had real colored pencils (like that one glorious time) she could probably work wonders. But sometimes it seems the figures she captures in childish wax are just perfect like that: undeveloped and unrefined, only silhouettes, in the end, and as morbid as that is, Namine knows in that empty space that it's true.

Feeling good about a comment, even though it’s offensive in a way dreamfleet June 8 2010, 08:24:27 UTC

Demyx couldn't help but grin at the words shot his way by that razor tongue. Because sure, it had been an insult, but at least Zexion had noticed.

A silhouette of a hand dreamfleet June 8 2010, 08:27:32 UTC

It's all Axel can see sometimes, hanging pale and ghostly in the darkness above his bed, in that murky inky undiscoverable spot that looms just off the ceiling when all the lights are off. It's not reaching for him, and that's the scary part. A small, pale hand, familiar down to the way the fingers spread apart in that haphazard yet organized manner, palm facing away in a backwards wave. It appears, slightly luminescent, and disappears only a few seconds after those fateful words replay in his mind, and Axel thinks to himsefl that damn, the kid had done it again.

People wearing black / 1 dreamfleet June 8 2010, 08:32:18 UTC

A uniform, a code, a disguise, protection, the key to their identity at the same time as it hides it. Chained like the links of hearts they don't have, black to blend in, black to stand out. They all wear them in a slightly different way, subtle differences that mean something only to the others wearing the same. One with pointed shoulders, another with regular street shoes, yet one more wears it with the zipper mostly undone (purposeful or not, the others could never tell). It's those little things that mean the world to them, despite only being tiny insignificant variations in a single, universally, multiversally-recognized uniform.

Because when you have no other identity but an assigned name, number, and title, and vague memories of a person, a person that you try so hard not to be, being recognized for something developed by you can mean everything.

People wearing black / 2 dreamfleet June 8 2010, 08:41:40 UTC

Ritsuka's sitting in a sea of darkness- not in his mind, but in the people around him. He thinks to himself, as people shuffle up one by one, clad in the somber color of mourning, paying their respects to a picture... he laughs.

Not outwardly. Outwardly he's as still as a statue, made of stone, sitting there in his matching clothes, in his little suit made just for him, just for this occasion. He laughs on the inside, because it's something Seimei doesn't deserve. The black, the picture, the incense- it's nothing of the real Seimei, of his warm caring loving kind big brother. The picture doesn't show him smiling, and the black is just some stupid representation of sadness half these people don't even feel.

None of them deserve to wear that color, some stupid tradition they all follow just for the sake of it. Ritsuka, in his sadness, can only be angry. Angry at them for their lies covered in darkness, angry at the world for killing Seimei, angry at himself for wearing the same color when tears have still failed to come to his eyes.

A promise 1 / 2 dreamfleet June 8 2010, 10:00:27 UTC

He was always looking out for it, and it had him paranoid. A flash of green, a red hat seen from the corner of his eyes- Roxas turned every time, and every time he was met with disappointment.

This had been going on for months, ever since those words- 6, little, half-whispered words, his last real memory of the person he considered closest- appeared in dreams, and in the forefront of his memory.

6 words that made Roxas' heart race- a new sensation, he always thought afterwards with a bitter snicker- and his stomach curl and his eyes whip around to see what it was- only to have it turn out to be a hat, or an emerald earring, or, god forbid, he'd laughed so hard when it had been a Christmas decoration, then quietly apologized to the man he hadn't yet been able to find ( ... )

A promise 2 / 3 dreamfleet June 8 2010, 10:03:27 UTC

Maybe it was that chick flicks had to get their inspiration somewhere that was the reason for what happened right as he entered the stairs down into the station. Maybe it was that fate had sensed his thoughts, his sudden hopelessness, listlessness, his apathy for anything that wasn't green, red, and grinning. Or maybe it was one of those simple chance encounters that ends up perfect, the kind in books and television and movies that real people watch, sigh at, and continue with their lives knowing that will never, ever happen to them ( ... )

A promise 3 / 3 dreamfleet June 8 2010, 10:04:22 UTC

The people around them paid little mind to the spellbound people on the stairs. They were unaware something amazing had happened. They didn't know that this was where movies got their stories, that this was the inspiration for writers and artists around the world. They didn't know that the power of a promise had held through fate and death and nonexistence, to give two people who deserved it most a second chance at doing this ( ... )