a prompt for every week of the year
awhile ago, i created my own writing prompts along the lines of an old livejournal writing community called 52 flavours, whose prompts were always beautiful and abstract and poetic and evocative. these types of prompts have sort of become lost to fandom in favor of more straightforward and simplistic ones (which never inspire me much, personally) so as i start to post fics i'm writing to these prompts, i figured i might as well post the actual prompt list for anyone to use!
the distant glitter of the January sun
back then, everything was music
the world begins at the kitchen table
it felt just like February; what had been falling snow was beating loudly in the street
Listen. Even the ocean begs.
unsure of where to settle down for the night
March is a month of storms and lust
we’ve been alive just long enough
I wrote “valley” when I meant “longing”
you saw me one Friday afternoon and decided you should love me
I know I have been dreaming
April is the cruelest month
all this fucking with no hands on me
I’d write about you a lot more than I should
to put on your best outfit and feel like you’re dressing a wound
to be held by something reluctant to let go
Late in May as the light lengthens
I worry that love is violence
I’ve been trying to go home my whole life–
you can put your strength down
I wasn’t fooled. I knew you at once.
It is June. Let’s hope someone is kind, just in time
bend in a thousand directions
your smell was never unfamiliar
even hunger can become a space to live in
they cannot exist without setting each other on fire
in your hand, its shaky penmanship, my own paper-thin nerves
staying up all night for it
the August sun, returning everything that was taken away—
and maybe love still smolders in my heart
the reverse of being haunted
a day of rain; the kind you think will never end
September tastes of ashes
maybe a meteor or maybe a phone call or maybe a sudden shift in atmosphere
an old, old wound about to heal or about to bleed
the ache of everything unsaid
October is a thick and hollow bone
the difference between intimacy and radical intimacy
I caught you forgetting me
Will you forgive me these November days?
amazing how long a ruined thing will burn
Look, you said, sunlight.
All my stories are about being left; all of yours are about leaving. We should have known.
It is December and we must be brave.
