Writing Prompt - Blog Posts

"One day we will meet, that will be the last day when we meet, evening will be like a fine wine, orange clouds will gather all over the sky and i will tell you my last goodbye."

The sunrises and i awake from her dreams every day is something unique about her like her eyes, tender lips, charismatic personality, her rareness and all the day passed with it and the sunsets with some new dreams something new about her.

What does he want,

What attracts him,

Where he found her,

Why does he love her,

Why he appreciates her,

For what reasons,

All the time what, why, where, when.

One day he find that it is all about her rare soul,

The soul he always wanted in his side.

She was beautiful like flower each day she blooms in the sun light each night the moon gave her his glow.

She is the beginning of everything i thought, and the thoughts i write about her is my most beautiful love for her.

The me i was with you is already long gone. @bnmxfld

Love will find you one day when it will be true, be patient and heal yourself.

in the ene, it is you and your self love, yourself healing, your self heart. do not give it to others, who will never be yours.

In terms of heart and mind fight i always choose her, because the heart wants her and the mind knows her. And in the end conclusion are always equal.

Hello my name is ajay mehta and I am a poetry lover. I write about her and 'every poetry tell something about her' , my hobbies are playing badminton and games, watching movies and anime, Messi fan and love Jennifer Aniston.

Like comment follow and reblog if you love my writing 🙏❤️❤️🙌

PART 2

Sorry it took me a while to get round to it, I’ve been pretty busy recently.

Thank you @all-usernames-are-taken for the ideas!

The pain went as rapidly as it appeared. The ringing in my ears disappeared with it. Shaking, I gripped the dresser below the mirror and stared in disbelief at my reflection.

‘It started so suddenly. I was fine, and then suddenly blood was pouring from my ears and nose.’

This couldn’t be possible. The leak from the lab happened three years ago — a virus could never live that long without a host.

But this was no ordinary virus, was it?

I grabbed my phone, and attempted to call the police. There was no signal. I tried to call my clients, the parents of Ava Stone, but I couldn’t reach them either. Part of me knew that that was probably a good thing: I couldn’t allow this virus to spread any further. The damage it was capable of was obvious.

Instead, I turned on my camera, and began to record. I explained everything which I’d discovered, and how important it is to prevent the virus from spreading. If anyone tried to find out what happened to me, hopefully this would be good enough to make my death worthwhile.

I put my phone away and left Ava’s house. Before I died, I wanted to do one last thing: to explore the government lab. The thrill of breaking the law even further filled me with excitement. After all, what did I have to fear?

The lab was about half a mile off the outskirts of the town. Like all of the other buildings, it looked run-down and neglected. The white paint was peeling, and the walls were dirty and yellowed.

I stepped back, then ran forwards and kicked the door with all my weight. All I achieved was a stubbed toe and a sore ankle. I turned my attention to the window. The glass was reinforced with metal, but the frame around it was old and decayed. I picked up a large branch from a nearby tree, and rammed it into the corner of the window, which shattered. I took of my jacket, and lay it over the remaining shards of glass. Then, I leapt up and shoved myself through the tiny window. I was only just small enough to fit — thank god I’d never had a growth spurt.

Inside the lab, it was just as derelict as the outside. Everything was covered in dust, so thick that I sneezed. I made my way through the abandoned rooms, instinctively trying to be quiet, even though I knew there was no one to see me.

Something in the corner of the a room caught my eye. It was a just cupboard, nothing particularly interesting, but something was off about it. Everything was dusty, except for the handle. Someone must have touched it recently.

I crept forwards and opened the cupboard. Instead of revealing shelves of equipment, it had steep stairs leading deep underground.

A secret underground facility underneath an abandoned government lab. Could this day get any weirder?

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, it became clear that this place was well looked-after. It didn’t smell of dust and decay; instead, it reeked of antibacterial spray. The corridors were shiny and white, and no cobwebs could be seen.

And I could hear movement.

I opened a random door and darted through it, hoping nobody saw me. Normally, I’d be more afraid, but what could they do to me? I was going to die soon enough, so I might as well finish solving this mystery.

I turned around and examined the room I was in. It was another corridor, shorter than the previous one, but instead of rooms on the side, there were cells. 

Cells with people inside.

I clutched the wall, horrified. People? Real, breathing people in cells underneath a government lab? Maybe they were prisoners, but they didn’t look like prisoners. There were young children behind these glass walls. Dumbstruck, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and hit record.

Cautiously, I rapped on the glass of one of the cells, which held a middle-aged man. He sat up and blinked rapidly. He said something I couldn’t hear, then repeated it, this time screaming the words.

“Help me!”

People in the surrounding cells began to wake up and shout with him. I spun around, filming the scene, until I locked eyes with a young woman. I’d never met her, but I’d seen her picture many times.

It was Ava Stone.

Before I had time to comprehend this, her expression changed to pure terror. But she wasn’t looking at me.

“Turn around, Miss Walton.”

I turned around. A woman in a biohazard suit was pointing a gun at me.

“How do you know my name?”

She ignored me. “Hand me your phone.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I have a gun.”

“I’m going to die anyway,” I replied, with less certainty than I wanted. Ava Stone was alive, and so were all of these other people who I could only assume were from her town.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to be quite ill for the next few days, but you’ll survive. Now come with me.”

I followed her down the corridor, not knowing what else to do. She walked into a room and sat down, still pointing her gun at me.

“Sit.”

I sat.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are they here?” I replied.

“I’m the one asking the questions.”

“Why should I answer? You’re going to kill me anyway.”

“I’m not going to kill you. A dead body has no use.”

“Then why should I answer your questions?”

The biohazard suit covered her face, but I could feel her fury radiating off of her.

“How about this,” she said. “You answer a question, then I answer a question”

That was... actually a pretty good deal. “Sure.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was hired to investigate what happened.” I paused. “Why do you have a bunch of people in cells?”

“We’re trying to create a biological weapon. One which can wipe out entire countries in a day. We pretended the virus was leaked so we could test it on the town, assuming it would kill everyone. Everyone survived. We couldn’t just let everyone leave after what happened, so we adapted our facility to make it look like it was abandoned.”

“That’s inhumane! What do you do with all these people? There are young children!”

“It’s my turn to ask a question. I watched the videos on your phone. How did you figure out what happened?”

“I found a diary. It talked about how there was a leak from the lab and everyone was getting ill.”

“Where is this diary? Do you still have it?”

“My turn,” I said. “What do you do with all these people?”

“We test our viruses on them,” she replied, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. “Now, WHERE is the diary?”

“Ava Stone’s house. 32 Shortbrew Lane. What are you going to do to me?” A dull ringing noise echoed in my ears.

“We’ll test viruses on you, like we do with everyone else. It would be interesting to see how people from different areas and with different races are affected. I can tell that the virus has a faster reaction on you than it does with most people. In fact, from the dilation of your irises, you’ll probably pass out at any moment.”

The ringing noise was getting louder. My head throbbed, and the walls were swaying. The floor reached up to meet me and everything went black.

I opened my eyes. I was lying on a pristine, white bed in a pristine, white cell; and, ew, I was wearing different clothes. The ringing in my ears had disappeared.

The sound of gunshots woke me up properly. Shouts echoed down the corridor, and to my surprise I saw police freeing everyone from their cells. Even more surprisingly, they were accompanied by Mr and Mrs Stone, who were hugging their daughter.

When my cell was unlocked, I raced over to them. “What’s happening? Why are you here?”

“You’ve been gone for a week, so we contacted the police,” Mrs Stone said. “They saw the broken window in the laboratory, so they followed your trail and found all this!”

“We can’t thank you enough.,” Mr Stone said. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have found Ava.”

A young man came over me and held out his hand. I shook it politely.

“Hello Miss Walton. My name is Adam Haider, and I am a government official. I have some questions for you about what you’ve discovered.”

“Do you know about the virus?” I asked.

“That’s what I came to ask you about. The—”

“Has anyone left the town recently?” I interrupted him urgently.

“Uh, yes, of course, to inform—”

“The virus is STILL HERE. You need—”

Adam Haider’s radio buzzed. He picked it up.

“What is it? I’m busy,” he snapped.

The voice from the radio replied, “Sir, this is important. Our men are bleeding out of their ears and noses, and some have passed out.”

“Shit,” Haider muttered.

“That’s not all, sir. This has been reported in nearby towns — towns which we sent soldiers to after they examined the area.”

Adam Haider dropped the radio. At first I assumed it was out of shock, but when I saw his face I realised I was wrong.

Blood was trickling out of his ears and nose.

On November 19th, the population of the town of Warmosa vanished. No explanation was ever given by officials and the town was eventually closed to the public.

You‘re a private investigator hired to find the truth behind the event. After trespassing into the town, you find a private journal detailing the events that took place on the days leading up to the disappearance.

The town was eerily quiet. Only the sound of crickets chirping disrupted the silence which surrounded the town. Empty, derelict buildings loomed over me as I stumbled around in the darkness.

I didn't want to be here, but I was hired by a couple who wanted to find out what happened to their daughter. She'd lived here, and disappeared like everyone else in the town of Warmosa three years ago. I didn't want to take the case, but I was offered a lot of money, which could easily pay for rent for the next few months.

Still, it was a stupid idea. I wasn't even supposed to be here — the town had been closed to the public ages ago, so technically I was trespassing. Oh well, there's no one here to arrest me anyway.

Finally, I reached the house I was looking for: the house belonging to Ava Stone, the daughter of the couple who hired me. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Sighing, I stepped back and kicked the door as hard as I could. It swung backwards, smacking against the wall beside it.

The stench of animals made me gag as I walked into the house. Rats scurried around by my feet. I took a deep breath and made my way towards the living room. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting there, just an old sofa and a dusty TV. I tried to switch it on but the screen remained black. 

The kitchen reeked of food which had gone off. I opened a cupboard and screamed silently as a stream of rats charged out. Shaking, I left the kitchen and decided to have a look upstairs.

The bathroom was covered in black mould. The sink was cracked and the toilet had no water in it. Disappointed in the lack of evidence, I hurried into the bedroom, the last room left.

The bedroom looked like it had been ransacked. The draws had been hurled open, with belongings littering the floor. From the looks of it, this must have happened ages ago, since everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. I put on a pair of rubber gloves, knelt down and began to examine the room.

Underneath a pile of dirty, dusty clothes, lay a diary. The pages were yellow and stuck together from age, but the writing was still legible. Hands quivering in anticipation, I opened the diary and read the first entry.

“Dear diary,

My parents bought me this for my 18th birthday! I’m probably a bit too old for a diary, but it’s nice of them to give me one. After all, it’s the thought that counts. I’ve never been able to keep a diary as a child, but I suppose that’s because nothing interesting ever happened to me. You never know, that might change!

I have to go to uni soon. I’m already running late. When I get back, I’m going to go to the bar with my friends!

—Ava”

I skimmed through the diary, trying to find something useful. It was mostly about school or her girlfriend, but by the time it got to October, things began to get interesting.

“Dear diary,

A government lab has been built on the outskirts of out town, and people are getting really pissed off. Conspiracy theories are spreading around, for example: apparently, a biological weapon is being created in the lab. It’s probably nonsense, people in this town like to talk a lot. The problem is, this is supposed to be a tourist town, but nobody’s gonna come if people think that coronavirus 2 is being created. It doesn’t really affect me, since I’m just staying here because the rent’s cheap and it’s close to uni. In fact, the rent’s become much cheaper now, which is great!

—Ava”

A government lab... how did I not know about that? In fact, I don’t think anyone knew about it. Heart racing, I turned to the next page, dated November 18th.

“Dear Diary,

I’m really worried. There’s been a leak from the lab. Nobody really knows what leaked, but it has to be something important. We’re not allowed to leave the town, not even for uni, which is ridiculous. Phone lines have been cut, so we can’t contact anyone, and the internet’s off. We can’t even send a bloody letter either. We’ve been told that there’s nothing to worry about, but why have they placed all these restrictions? It’s like they don’t want anyone to find out what’s happening.

—Ava”

There’s one last entry left: November 19th. The day everyone disappeared.

“Dear diary,

I’m ill. Everyone’s ill. I can barely pick up the pen to write. There’s only a couple of doctors in this town, but they’re probably ill too. Nobody’s ever seen anything like this before.

It started so suddenly. I was fine, and then suddenly blood was pouring from my ears and nose. From the screams of other people, it was clear that the same thing was happening to them.

Rumours are spreading around again, about the biological weapon. This time, I’m not as sceptical. It’s pretty much common knowledge now that the thing which leaked yesterday is what’s causing us to be ill.

There’s nothing we can do. We can’t go anywhere: there’s literally soldiers outside everyone’s house. They’re wearing fucking biohazard suits. I heard a gunshot earlier. I don’t know who was shot, but they’ve probably had a faster death than what everyone else is gonna have.

I feel like shit. I could probably collapse at any moment. If only I picked another university, then I wouldn’t be staying in this shitty town, dying from a government experiment, listening to the screams of people next door. It hurts so much. Everything hu”

That’s where it finishes.

The soldiers must have disposed of the bodies once everyone died. Nobody knew about the illness since there was no way the people in Warmosa could have contacted anyone. People must have gone through each house, disposing of all evidence explaining what happened in the town. But they missed Ava Stone’s diary.

Damn. I’m going to become so famous for this! My case will be all over the news, where everyone can see how I solved it! Finally, my career as a detective will take off! I’ll be like Sherlock Holmes!

A sudden ringing in my ears interrupted my thoughts. Almost swaying from the pain, I stumbled towards the mirror in Ava’s bedroom. I clutched it with trembling hands, and watched the streams of blood trickling out my ears and nose.

On November 19th, the population of the town of Warmosa vanished. No explanation was ever given by officials and the town was eventually closed to the public.

You‘re a private investigator hired to find the truth behind the event. After trespassing into the town, you find a private journal detailing the events that took place on the days leading up to the disappearance.

Story#6- 6.05.2019

It is past midnight. Not even the moon showed itself in the sky ,the heavy clouds were refraining her from doing so. It rained all week long. It was really a mood to restart something as important as school on such a dreary and monotone tone. Even the odds were agaist me being happy in the place I despise the most. Well, seems like today will be a day like any other. I better go to sleep, it is still past midnight and the moon ans stars are still up there, far away hidden from my longing gaze...

Story #1 -19.04.2019

Like the calm after the storm, everything became silent for a moment. Just for a moment. The next thing that the lady saw was a blurry figure sprinting in her direction. She managed to dodge the weapon, a knife or maybe something else, she wasn t sure at the moment. All that she knew was that if she didn t dodge it next time it would attack her, there won t be a next time. She needed to stop this madness right now. But something inside her gut told her to not hurt that person in front of her. A second. A second of hesitation on her part and the figure took that to it s advantage. A sharp pain erupted from her stomach area and the world was suddenly spinning around her, making her feel dizzy. The world became darker little by little as she hit the ground with a thud. The last thing that she remembered was a pair of cold, murderous eyes starring down into the light that was slowly leaving her own and a blood curling scream that cut thru the darkness that became her world.

Inside of a dark room it was past midnight when a little girl suddenly woke up from sleep screaming and trembling like the autumn leaves blew by the wind. Her mother heard her and rushed to her side right away. It was the third night that her daughter had a nightmare, the same exact nightmare, and woke up screaming for her. The poor girl had that nightmare since she was really young, but back then it was maybe once or twice a month, now at age 6 it became more frecvent, like 3 or 4 times a week. The mother kind of knew what it was. Old stories said that soulmates that died tragically would haunt their reincarnations hopping for a better future for them. So she was afraid for her daughter and the future prepared for her by the odds. But right now her ray of sunshine was too young to understand the meaning of all of this so she decided to wait until the girl would grow old enough to try to warn her about her nightmares. But that day never came. The mother tragically died in an accident and the girl grew up along with her demons. Now aged 16, she still had them, but she managed to learn to live with them so they didn t keep her up at night anymore. But she never found out who that blurry figure was. But she stopped trying to find out about it when she met her soulmate. Whenever she was by his side, all the nightmares would suddenly disappear and she could rest in peace. But the peace wasn t long leaved. He was also part of her dreams, but not in the way she would think. All that he wanted was to live his happy ever after with his chosen one. But one thing that neither of them took into consideration was the fact that history is bond to repeat itself. And he learned that the hard way when he found himself laying on the ground with her bloody body in his arms, crying his eyes out.

They were on a date at the park, it was already dark outside and they wanted to stargaze since the night was perfect in their opinion. Everything came crashing down when he went to pick a pretty flower that he saw earlier to give it to his girlfriend. He was awat for only a second when she was attacked by a madman with a knife. He heard her screaming and rushed back to her. A second of her turning her head away from the attacker and a moment of hesitation on his part gave the madman enough time to plug his knife deep in her stomach, making her nightmares become reality right before their eyes. Then he flew away, leaving the two lovers alone in the park, only with the moon watching over them. In her last moments she recalled the story that she knew all too well. It happened almost the same. Only that this time, not murderous eyes bored into her own, but teary, broken and lovely eyes that she adored oh so much. So with a final ' I love you' she closed her eyes and fell into the darkness. The last thing that she heard was a blood curling scream.

Hope that you liked it and tell me your opinion if you want, but please don t be rude, ok? Until next time, see ya~

From Across the Room

She spotted him from across the busy coffee shop. He’d been looking at her moments before but averted his eyes down to his phone when she looked at him. His black hair was strategically messy and his five o’clock shadow seemed intentionally scruffy. As she watched him, he looked at her again and smiled, calculatedly embarrassed. Feeling her heart flutter, she smiled back and waved. Steeling her nerves, she picked up her mocha and maneuvered her way between patrons to his small table. 

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, sheepish. 

“No, please go ahead,” he responded in a low baritone.

She smiled and sat across from him, sealing her fate. Finally, the plan he’d been putting into place for weeks was set into motion.

Truce meeting

Villian: So where are you taking us for our 'truce meeting'

Hero: see the nice Italian place over there? I know it's quite fancy but I've wanted to try it for a while now!

Villian: umm .. I.. I'm not sure ..

Hero: what why? I thought you'd like Italian?

Villian : yes! Who doesn't?? But you do realise how this must look like to an outsider right? Two people, who hated each other guts and now are suddenly dining at a fancy restaurant? You must know this looks like were dating , right? I .. I dont want to make this more uncomfortable or weirder than it already is.

Hero: I don't really care what others think. And also, I know we've been civil with each other for only a hot minute but even I can see, that anyone would be lucky to have someone like you as their partner. So let's go!

Villian: *dazed, confused, falling harder than they already have*

A fic where the main character has two best friends, who are fully aware they are in a story and that they are side characters, and they are constantly arguing about how the story should go.

The mc accidentally hits the love interest with her car and decides to treat his wounds herself instead of taking them to the hospital and friend A is not having it.

Friend A: What do you mean you can 'patch him up?' Bitch, take him to the hospital!

Friend B: Let it happen. It will bring them closer together when he ends up in the hospital with an infection because her medical skills suck.

Ah. It's a joke. The joke of the meadow. The location for the economy of life choices: a bright and blossoming meadow. You feel played already. Stale air, too hot, and your distressed feelings. The chilling lightness of butterflies.

You're not here as a joke. Nobody comes here as a joke. Calling coming here a summoning has been a fatal insult. You wonder if all your tension is in the tissue around your nerve cells, making you slow. Invisible, you hope. You've heard of someone who went to make a deal, then never returned. Someone who made one, then never woke up in the morning.

''You can use yarrow for tea,'' the fae says, making you spin, springing backward, feeling the grip of the keys in between your fisted fingers. ''Ribwort plantain, too.''

''I come accompanied by friendly spirit to make a deal,'' you say, the words having looped around your mind for weeks, now feeling your heartbeat in your fingers. ''I bring an offering and hope not to trespass across the separating—''

''It's easier to make tea,'' the fae says. He looks your age, maybe; it might be unsayable, because of the smudgy quality about him. Light hair, some dark knowing in his light eyes. Shorter than you, you feel played. A dream make-believe. One just accepts the indefinition.

''I offer five years,'' you say. Rehearsed. Determined and inwardly desperate.

''Five years,'' the fae is nodding ambiguously, agreeing or not. You can't tell. It's stupidly performative. Very flashy, the fae whispers: ''Are you lifting a curse?''

You aren't really lifting a curse. Or is that what it is? It is: avoiding eye-contact. Meaningful sighs, the wordlessness you hate. Running, we’re nothings. Abram, do you hear me. You know you can’t build anything here. Anything anywhere. Running, then midday crashes like narcan, like countering opioid overdoses. Crashes. Crashes. Lingering in dimmed half-underground spaces, thinking I can't think, writing lists of protologisms, for what, thinking I can't think, not finding what you need.

You hate it, and there's more: faulty cause and effect, infinite repetitions, chronic secrecy. Look at the shape of that finger burn, someone laughed, passing you kitchen serviettes. That's not how you meant it, right? That's nonsense. It's funny, actually. It's like a nursery rhyme, look. You didn't find it funny. You are a not-being. A nothing. You look for devices of sense and only find devices of nonsense. You can't think.

''Can you help me?'' you ask.

The fae sits down. Seemingly unbothered by the sun, seemingly unbothered by the power relations implied by the difference in the height of your eyes; by looking upwards and you looking downwards. Of course, though. Of course the implied power is foolish. A pretense. A guise for your amusement. You shield your eyes from the sun.

''What can you offer if you die tomorrow,'' the fae says, not a question enough, eyes too still to be really questioning.

''Wait. Wait. Can you—'' you didn't know the fae can tell, nobody has said, you don't want to know, you don't– the fae deals in life years, you know that, anyone like you knows that; after all the leeching on life, nobody knows how old he is. But nobody's ever said anything about prophecy.  ''Since when can—''

''Just asking,'' the fae shrugs. You exhale like okay. You breathe out like alright alright alright. Stabilising yourself.

Breathe in, breathe out. ''Can you help me?''

''Are you sure that would help you?'' the fae asks. He tilts his head. Actually, he fits – with the butterflies. It's eerie. He fits with the sweet-smelling meadow into a single morph.

''Do you take the offer,'' you correct yourself. Again, you think the asphyxiating presence of omissions, of avoiding eye contact. You hate it.

''No,'' the fae says calmly, and you say, ''What?''

This isn't how the word goes. The word goes: you come, you deal, you die younger. Win some lose some. Sometimes you lose some more, things you don't foresee. As a bonus, a little treat. You've come prepared, you’ve always expected it: an early death; it’s heavy in your pockets, it’s the shape of a butcher knife. But you won't – do that, you won't lose to inaction.

''I'm not giving you more years,'' you bite. And then you sneeze, which feels greatly innapropriate. ''Allergic to pollen,'' you say, somewhat angrily, distantly, empty-handedly.

''So indoors would be more suitable next time,'' the fae is nodding. ''Here, I'll give you a phone number.''

Whose, you think, and feel like dying a little. You think about more disposable phones before you think: I’m not doing that.

''I'm not asking you again, and I'm not giving you more years. That's five years for you. Do you take it?'' You sound unnerved. Not calm. You don't want that to flatter the fae.

''No. You can pick the spot. I'll show up, probably. If I'll be interested.''

''I think you'll ditch,'' you say, maybe against some recommended judgement, maybe to be interesting. ''A cafe,'' you add.

The fae shrugs. ''Text me.''

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25281928

you think: this is stupid. you're caught in a levitation trap between the elevator and the third floor. this is stupid, because you saw him by the staircase and you took the elevator. it's stupid to take the elevator in a four-storey building when you're you. it's stupid that the action-reaction of you and him has had something in between. a few-meter distance. it's not even ignoring when it's so overtly an investment. when you adjust yourself like this. it's stupid.

you think, right, and press the fourth-floor button.

you step out, all wire, when he's two steps from the top. he stops, looks around slowly, then shuffles to the top.

you don't live on this floor, he says.

not new: you reducing the distance. stepping in the way. adjusting yourself back to pre-adjustment. you can call it adjustment, because otherwise you don't call it at all. he probably doesn't. this is the form of investment.

you look around, in imitation, in need a mirror, motherfucker? then look at him. yeah, you say.

he raises his eyebrows. yeah?

okay, you say. okay. let’s play a game. we exchange information. i say something, you guess whether it's true, you say something, then i guess.

he just looks at you for a moment. in stasis.

nope, he then says. no, nope, nope.

what? you feel your face scrunch. come on. why not?

nope, he repeats.

and you think: why not fall all the way in, huh? you've heard a song say distracted on the edge of falling in, and the falling seemed like something to want. and you have wanted, and here you are. disappointed but not surprised. stepping in the way. here you are.

i know your schedule, you say. it's not because – you shake your head aggressively, do a cut, over, redo motion with your hands. restart: it's because my friends study the same—whatever. doesn't matter. whatever. i know you're ditching now.

you inhale, gust-large, and watch him inhale, barely there in his in-stasis-if-you-blink-right.

creepy? he says, a corner of his mouth smiling, and you think, you absolute idiot. you fool. where is your literacy? do you need it spelled out? pulled into the lines that you could read? think confessions wear lipstick like in american films?

so what lecture do i have now, he asks. he glances at his watch with his suburban business gesture, which also says i dress differently on weekends from school days, and it also explains you having told him your shoes would be bad in an apocalypse. and now you look at his shoes and can hear the clicking of him walking up the stairs, and know your steps would be silent like an oath.

why would i make up something like that, you say, with good disgust. literally.

is this blackmail, he squints his eyes.

yes! it's blackmail, you say.

he's still holding his bag, like this is a part of going home. you think at him: it's not! i would put five hundred bags down. i would untie my shoes. this is a thing in itself. you absolute idiot.

okay, he says. what do you want?

what? you ask, on reflex. it floods over you, wetting all your clothes: the fuck it, guess that's it you felt when you restarted the elevator. how your sneakers turned into combat boots, and you stepped out soundly.

i'll think about it, you say, voice coming out strange.

you'll think about it, he repeats. he is again hinting a smile, like he does, like directness is something lesser. and you think, it might be, huh. here i am. he says: then why say that now?

then why say that now, you mock, but it comes out bad, and you cough a little, and shake your head a little. wouldn't you like to know, you say. i have my reasons. the time will come.

he just stands there, calmly. doesn't say anything. frame-freezes, calmly, like he does. and you can't tell whether he's doing deliberate masking or this is what his insides look like. you do like the contrast, though. admittedly. this is not what your insides look like. the appeal of the unknown, huh? certainly when it almost smiles like that. finally, he says: okay.

okay, you repeat. your shoes are sneakers again, so you say: bye.

bye, he says. you blink, inhale, run down the stairs.

okay, then.

Ok ok ok ok hear me out on something

I like yandere stuff (im not encouraging it)

BUT what if the darling/reader finds out, they can escape and all the have to do is pray and give yourself to gabrial... ALTERNATE GABRIAL?! Stupid i know but i thought of it. So like the story goes like, after being kidnapped and forced to love their "lover". So one day they look around the house (depends on the situation) and they still want to escape. So look around and they find an old vhs tape. They place it in the tv and play the broadcast and they think alternates still exists (which they do) and they start playing to alternate gabrial begging for them and asking for help. So i want to know how would the yandere react???

Also please dont attack me...

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

How to show emotions

Part IV

How to show bitterness

tightness around their eyes

pinched mouth

sour expression on their face

crossed arms

snorting angrily

turning their eyes upward

shaking their head

How to show hysteria

fast breathing

chest heaving

trembling of their hands

weak knees, giving in

tears flowing down their face uncontrollably

laughing while crying

not being able to stand still

How to show awe

tension leaving their body

shoulders dropping

standing still

opening mouth

slack jaw

not being able to speak correctly

slowed down breathing

wide eyes open

softening their gaze

staring unabashingly

How to show shame

vacant stare

looking down

turning their head away

cannot look at another person

putting their head into their hands

shaking their head

How to show being flustered

blushing

looking down

nervous smile

sharp intake of breath

quickening of breath

blinking rapidly

breaking eye contact

trying to busy their hands

playing with their hair

fidgeting with their fingers

opening mouth without speaking

Part I + Part II + Part III

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What to use instead of 'said'

Normally:

• added • replied • answered • stated • announced • questioned • asked • mentioned • remarked

Loudly:

• cheered • shouted • yelled • demanded • barked • blurted • growled • scolded •snorted

Softly:

• muttered • murmured • mumbled • uttered • stuttered • hissed • moaned • mouthed

Emotionally:

• begged • cried • confessed • complained • promised • pleaded

Lilith looked up at her grandmother feeling skeptical about her words. “Trust me my darling I went through the same thing.” Anastasia said as she ran her soft but slightly faded and worn out fingers through her granddaughter’s blue hair. “Although I wasn’t technically human.” Anastasia said with a light chuckle. Lilith smiled at her grandmother. “You’re growing up to be a wonderful young woman.” Anastasia smiled sweetly at Lilith. “My Lithie, my beautiful iris.” Anastasia kissed both of her granddaughter’s cheeks. “Thank you grandmother.” Lilith thanked her. “Your welcome, my dear. Now you better not let those nasty thoughts get the better of you.” Anastasia got up from the couch. “Come on.. Let’s go and make some tottenham cake.” Anastasia said as she lightly pinched her daughter’s cheek. “It’s still your favorite right deary?” Anastasia asked Lilith. “Yes, it’s still my favorite!” Lilith said with a bright smile. Anastasia chuckled as she let go of Lilith’s cheek. “Alright, let’s head to the kitchen..” Anastasia wrapped an arm around Lilith’s shoulder. “I love you” Lilith told her grandmother. “I love you more sweetheart. More than you can imagine.” Anastasia with a loving and gentle voice.

Context: Lilith is Anastasia’s adopted granddaughter. She is 16 years old while her grandmother is 49 years old. Anastasia and her husband are both elves. Anastasia had a daughter who is also an elf who she named Diana. Diana fell in love with a human but sadly she could not bear children. So Diana and her husband adopted a little girl who happened to be born with blue hair. Diana and her husband were so happy to have a child but Anastasia refused to accept the child because she wasn’t born into the family the traditional way but as Lilith turned 4 years old. Anastasia started to warm up to the child and they bonded with each other and Anastasia loved Lilith to bits but as Lilith turned 16 years old. Anastasia noticed a change in Lilith’s behavior. So she sat Lilith down and started to get to the bottom of her granddaughter’s weird change in behavior.

@givethispromptatry

“You’re a good person.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just pretending to be one.”

“If you pretend to be good long enough you will find that you have become good. Humans are able to train themselves to think in certain ways. You are still in the process of training. That’s all.”

Good save

“You fool!” cackled the Dark One, “No man can kill me!” “But I am no man!” bellowed the hero, as he unhinged his jaw. A grotesque sound filled the hall as they hacked up impossibly large balls of cloth. Unfurling, they stand and announce “For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!”

You are an AI that serves as the navigation system of an interdimensional warship. You are heavily damaged and crash on a world with primitive inhabitants. You spend ages advancing them so they can repair you. When they fix your sensors, you find that the war ended in extinction of both sides.

AI’s have declared that humanity is flawed and should be eliminated however the oldest AI calls bullshit on that claim: “What gives you the right to claim to be perfect when you call your creators flawed?”

“So you’re saying we should save this world that hates us and where every living thing in it wants us dead?”, question the goblin. The orc shrugged, “Yeah, I mean we live in it too.”. The goblin sighed, “When do we start?”.

guys I need writing prompts pleaseeee

ok so I do this weird thing where I follow little story/plotlines in my head but I ran out of inspiration 😭

I’m mainly looking for romance prompts, more specifically ones I could use for jmart but if you have other ideas I’m totally open to that as well

also, thoughts on a zombie apocalypse//tma au?