Didn't Cry When I Killed Her. But I'm Crying While Writing About Her Grieving Family????? How Does That

didn't cry when i killed her. but i'm crying while writing about her grieving family????? how does that make sense?

took the soldier, poet, king test as my characters:

kaz (the warrior prince):

wren (the foreign princess):

Feeling evil (just wanna be loved by someone that only has eyes for me)

-:“Why are you looking at me that way?” Prompts-:

(Hehehe, tag me :)

By @me-writes-prompts

"What way?"

"Like you want to punch me kind of way."

"The way you look at me when you're hiding something from me."

"Like you want to eat me alive way."

"The 'I-can't-wait-to-get-home-and-make-out-with-you way."

"The way that you look at me when I've done something wrong and you know it."

"Shy but sly way."

"Like you want to go hug me tight right now."

"The way you do when you know something that I don't, and you're itching to tell me."

"The way you look at me when you want something from me that includes bargaining and manipulating."

"Like you want to kiss me kinda way."

hii ! could you please do a prompt list about enemies to lovers having their first kiss?

Enemies to Lovers First Kiss Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"Oh, God." He muttered, his heart dancing in his chest. "What did we just do."

She awkwardly laughed, breaking eye contact with them to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. "Got you," she said, though there was no humor in her voice. "You should have seen the look on your face."

They smirked, pulling away and taking in the look on his face. "What's the matter?" They asked innocently. "I didn't fluster you, did I?"

She didn't know why she did it. All she knew was that in that moment, while staring into his infuriating eyes and glancing down at his lips that were curled into a frown, she wanted to kiss him. And she'd be damned if she didn't get what she wanted.

Air rushed out of his lungs as he kissed them. He expected anger, maybe regret, but all he felt was satisfaction.

They put a hand on her chin as she began to pull away. She looked into their eyes. "Kiss me again," they muttered.

"Is this some kind of game to you?" She asked, anger in his words. "Are my feelings nothing but a silly little game to you?" He shook his head, the sensation of her lips on his still lingering on his skin. "Never," he told her. "I've been wanting to do that since we first met."

"If you're feeling brave," they teased, "you'll do it again."

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everybody’s always on writing prompts like “what if there was a world where everyone had a timer ticking down to their death… but you met someone whose timer said infinity!” or “what if everyone had their cause of death tattooed across their forehead… but you met someone whose forehead said THE CREATURE!” Enough -

enough. stop with the shock value. there is no need to insert THE CREATURE; the benign concept of such a world is horrifying enough. not even in urgency, but just in banal, everyday interaction. imagine you meet someone and their timer says two years. not tomorrow, not urgently soon, but two years. enough to do quite a lot. they could fall in love in that time - could they get engaged? have a baby? you might otherwise get to know them, befriend them, but perhaps you opt not to, make a conscious choice not to invest in your own grief. what balancing act would every individual person have to participate in - I have ten years, is that long enough to be a good mother to children? is that long enough to secure a caretaker for my own mother? my wife will die a few months before me. my newborn’s timer reads nineteen years.

and cause of death. you interview for a job and emblazoned across the healthy, smiling face of the HR lady is MALNUTRITION. your country is prospering, safe, but every person you meet on the street from the babies to the old women read BOMB. BOMB. what kind of havoc would fate wreak on the world? what about the loss of privacy? how would that shape our notions of hope? idk man I think a lot of those ancient poems were right, and the fates are monsters. I’m interested by the framing of these ideas as trite horror tales when the premises themselves are so much more disturbing if simply taken to their logical ends