Prompting frenzy Thursday!

[narceus]

Last week was fun!  It was a bit slow, but remember, you're welcome to come back and fill in answers to prompts all week long.  We'll give the structure another try now.  Remember: take a prompt, leave three more.  And remember, all sorts of fills are acceptable: art of any kind, character-driven playlists, heck, give me a thoughtfully themed recs set.  Be creative :)

Also, I should add that if you have a longer, lengthy story idea etc that you want to discuss but doesn't seem to fit this game's quickfire nature, it's okay to leave that down there like a normal Thursday, too.  Anything goes!

This week's ten prompts under the cut. 




Pomegranate

Eleven, humid, star

Any two or more characters who are not currently dating, and a baby.

One of the girls.  Yellow and red.

<i>You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness</i>

Cross

Leaves, sand, electric

Long-distance relationship (any kind)

One of the boys.  Blue and purple.

<i>I am the mask you wear/it's you they hear</i>

 

Comments

One of the Boys (Blue and Purple)

[likeasouffle]

If he could have just tried harder to be one of the boys, he wouldn't be in this mess. If he had made more of an effort to fit in, to avoid standing out -

Blaine thumbed over the roughness of the scrapes on his knuckles, on his knees. He liked sports well enough, and he looked fairly masculine. He didn't have a lisp or anything. It would have been easy. He had had most of them fooled, until that stupid notion of bringing a boy to a dance had kicked him in the head and consumed all his thoughts. Took his breath away with the simplicity of it. Him, with a good-looking date at a dance. As if it would have been normal. As if it would have been easy.

He clicked open the smooth plastic compact of his mother's concealer, pressed his finger into the powder. He dusted it onto his forehead up near his hairline, into the groove under his eye, layer upon layer of it over the blue and purple, until there was almost nothing but his mother's skin tone.

He felt like he ached everywhere, his joints, the bruises on his ribs, headaches all the time. He felt like it was taking forever, waiting to heal. He put the compact back on the dresser, left the room, and closed the door. It wouldn't have been like this, if he could have just tried harder to be one of the boys.

--

Prompts:
"One day, you will all work for me."
"God. Roxy music makes me want to build a time machine just so I can go back to the ’70s and give Brian Ferry a high five."
"Where do you see yourself in the year 2030?" "Jail. Or dead. Or both."