gimme the story now 🧍🏽♀️
I need to read it omg aahhh so excited
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It’s not done yet! I’m just finishing up the first scene! Don’t worry, it isn’t that long!
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Okay I won’t rush you 
Excited as [PG13 CENSOR]
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Ooh! I can’t wait to see what you’ve written love!!!
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hehe i wrote it from achille’s pov 
soz this is kinda bad-
2am thoughts
‘can the goddamn neighbour be any louder?’, i thought to myself.
the Parisian nightlife was certainly loud this Friday, but it was nothing compared to the happenings of the Bachelor in Apartment 4B, i began to call them.
it had been an excruciatingly long day on set, and i was praying that God would give me a little break.
i guess i’m not going to heaven then.
‘did the music just get louder or is my mind playing tricks on me?’
before they could even think about changing the song one more time, i stormed out of bed, almost ripping the doors off their hinges when i reached the balcony, to investigate the chaos below.
it was a beautiful night, a purple sky reflecting down on the Seine, full of stars, and distant planets. the wind gently brushed over my hair, the scent of whatever fruit-flavoured drink the Bachelor had been relying on to forget his problems also present in the autumn breeze.
i gripped my elbows, and gently brushed my thumbs along my forearms, following the intricate ink up my arm. this one is a snake.
maybe i’m just imagining things, as i turn to see no purple sky, or stars - but a sky without stars, and only the dirt from the road below passes through my hair along with the wind. a true juxtaposition from me standing above, like God’s greatest gift, living in a house of bricks itching to fall and re-build itself.
maybe the fruit-flavoured forgetfulness running through the mind of the Bachelor is actually poison, a rotten mix of heaven and hell passing down his throat.
i hope he’s a dreamer, and he can see the purple sky too.
i don’t bother to look down at him. God only knows what would happen if i did.
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You did it again. Guys she did it again. UGhhhHhh
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How the (and I mean this in the highest respect) hell, are you so good at this???
Teach me your wayssss
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She freaking is, right? Ugh we stan
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Good news! Almost done!!!
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Ahh perfection is on the wayy 
take your time, I’ll wait hehehe
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I’m loving these prompts…this one got a little dark tho- 
Confused
I have regretted many things in my life. I regret asking my crush what his tux would look like. I regret trying to fly from the second story window. Certainly, I regretted “drawing” on my arm with a knife. However, I regretted setting my chemistry teacher’s chair on fire the most. His face contorted into rage and microscopic drops of saliva joined together until it was big enough to be on an eyechart. I suppose it wasn’t the smell of burnt rubber that really pissed him off: it was most likely my lack of interest. I had been through far stranger and less enjoyable situations before.
I had problems defining what was real and what wasn’t. The odd sensation of a story flowing freely from ones subconscious, often mingled with the real world. Even Mr. Thetherman’s spit was reduced to light rain falling on me. He screamed at me to go to the principal’s office, I could tell it was far more urgent than his previous rant as I was drenched in the smell of coffee and morning breath.
I blinked and found myself standing in front of the principal’s office. This happened more than I’d like to admit. A stream, cutting to the most vital parts. The door let out a deafening creak. The principal was encased in the darkness if the room, whether to be intimidating or he likes the dark was unknown. The shadows moved and I was ushered to my seat.
My name came out distorted, botched information sent directly to my head. It wasn’t him speaking. His mouth remained closed, but the sound was like his voice. I was a bit unnerved: it wasn’t often that I had a nightmare reality. The voices mixed into one that had many. I could hear the deep voice of a man, yet also breathy whispers of a female. Dozens of voices spoke.
The men in white coats. The men in white coats. The men in white coats.
The phrase repeated itself hundreds of times burning images into my mind. Me, screaming my head off in a cold room, the walls had been bleached white yet pink stained the edges. Me, laying underneath a scalpel: tears glinted along with streams of crimson. A hollow wail reminding me of my own voice but too broken to be mine. I couldn’t get the air in fast enough: a strange tiredness came in a strong wave and black spots formed in my vision.
The men in white coats are coming.
A girl no older than 17 sat in the corner. Her eyes fluttered wildly but remained shut. Her classmate looked undisturbed, his eyebrows furrowed over some equation.
Then panic started.
A piercing scream made students scamper and stare at the girl. She clutched the temples of her forehead, yelling. “THE MEN IN WHITE COATS!” The teacher rushed towards her in an effort to calm her, but he was too slow.
Soon enough crimson liquid leaked from the deep scratches: blood fervently trying to escape her nails.
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YOU CAN’T HIT ME WITH AN OPEN ENDING AAHHHH
Girl this looks like so much fun to write! I can tell you enjoyed it omg that makes me so happy 
Thank you for writing your second story on this thread!!
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Too bad you’ll never know what happens 
All your prompts are so inspiring 
I might end up writing more even though I’m procrastinating on writing–
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I wish I could skip next week. Amber thought as she climbed into the now too familiar bed. I wish I didn’t have to live with the pain that I cause everyday by living. She thought as her beautiful hazel green eyes closed.
She woke, warm. Where am I? She thought as she opened her eyes. She knew her world in 2585 was apocalyptic, by this was another world. She chuckled softly. “Maybe this is another world entirely.” She whispered. Her bed, now looking totally out of place now, with it’s green sheet and mattress to match her old tyranistic(no idea how to spell) time. Her brown shoulder length hair now looking out of place as she stood in a bright white room filled with 3 windows, 1 to her left, that also had an exit door next to it. Another window to front, facing the city below, and the final window to her right. This window overlooked the sacred, Malia Moren. “The rover below is called ‘The Malia Moren’ which is a sacred river.” The card next to her bed read.
But that was the last thing she saw before her dad turned off her lights.
“I’m sorry but you don’t need to see anymore. A kid needs these eyes more than you.”
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ok I’m back lol watch me write smthn for the other prompts too 
confused
You jolt up. Brow dripping with sweat, alarm blaring in your ear. With your eyes still closed, you feel around until you grasp your phone. 7:00 am, right on time. Slowly dragging yourself out of bed, you begrudgingly make your way to the bathroom. The lights were cool, bright, a stark difference compared to your bedroom. With your dark purple walls and your dark purple sheets and your dark purple curtains– your eyes made the same painful adjustment every morning. You picked up your dark purple glasses and fumbled them onto your face. As your vision focused, your eyes found the mirror you had been inching towards. All color drained from your face as you processed what lied before you. It was you. It was your face, you were almost entirely sure it was your face. But it wasn’t you. Cautiously, you raised your hand to your light purple hair.
Then you jolt up, back in bed. Eyes open, body covered in sweat, your alarm going off louder than ever. Your phone, exactly where it should’ve been, your dark purple room was in perfect place. Jumping out of bed, you ran into your bathroom. Lunging for your glasses and meeting your own eyes in the mirror. A breathe of the relief. Now this looks like me, you think to yourself. You bring a hand to your messy, dark purple hair and smile softly to yourself. It was only a dream. Resuming your daily routine as it should’ve been– after all, you woke up exactly on time (for once), it would be a shame to waste that. Eventually you make your way downstairs. You grab your keys off the kitchen table and begin your walk to your car. One foot out the door, someone holds you back. “What, you’re leaving without saying goodbye?” You live alone.
And then– you jolt up. Heart pounding, palms sweaty, alarm blaring.
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Hi.
I want to improve my writing so I’m giving the “100 Years” prompt a shot.
100 Years
“I wish I could skip into next week,” the girl sighed.
Perhaps her family had been damned with a spell of extreme unluckiness in the past. Probably by some pissed off witch that a great-great-great relative managed to cheat on. Her family always did have a way of continuously messing up relationships and involving themselves in sordid affairs. She wouldn’t exactly be surprised if some saggy old witch really did curse her family.
But Emily was different. She’s good.
Not just some goody-two-shoes who sucked up to the professor for some extra credit, but truly, honestly good. Emily herself wouldn’t be shocked if God presented her with an award stating her earthly goodness and humbleness when she died. She honestly was the most humble person she knew and who could possibly argue with that?
Unfortunately, Emily’s day progressed from okay to not okay to terribly not okay and quickly hurdled all the way into a hellish nightmare. It was the first day of work at her shiny, new job downtown. She was feeling quite proud of herself as no one in her own family had gotten a shiny, new job downtown or kept any position at all for over 6 months straight. She’d planned on slowly climbing the corporate ladder until she clawed her way to the top.
That was before she realized that her boss was her ex.
That she cheated on.
With
his
best
friend.
It was an awkward reunion, but Emily being as gracious and kind as she was, allowed him to stay within her presence. Although, he was acting a bit pissy, which put Emily in a rotten mood. Other than the fact that her ex-boyfriend was her boss, Emily deemed it to be an excellent first start. Well, until she got into a car accident on the way back to her apartment. Sure, it was a minor car accident, but a car accident all the same. And whether she was speeding definitely wasn’t the cause of the accident. The person in front of her was simply driving too slow. A court case is currently in the making, but Emily wasn’t too keen on attending it. She found the government to be inefficient and worthless and judges to be too judgy.
Emily snuggled deeper into her blanket and stared at her ceiling. She was glad the day was over and honestly just wanted to go to sleep. The next day of work was sure to be interesting.
…
“Hey, does she look dead to you?”
“Well, with those looks she might as well be.”
“…”
“Get it? Because she looks horrible? Righ–?”
“Shut up.”
Emily suddenly awoke to two people in her room. Or at least, she thought they were people. It’s quite difficult to tell when her eyes were so blurry. And why was it so bright in here? It felt like someone had hurled her against the wall and stomped on her head a thousand times.
Emily continued to blink her eyes and stare at what she assumed to be the ceiling. Her ceiling. But as her eyes cleared up, it seemed as though it wasn’t her apartment ceiling after all.
It was the sky.
The young boy crept closer to Emily and stared at her with a vague mixture of amazement and disgust. “What a waste. She’s not dead.”
The woman clucked her tongue and began to turn away. “We could’ve really used the parts, too. Let’s go, Wilson.”
Emily laid on the ground and stared at the sky until she could no longer hear their footsteps. It was a beautiful shade of rose; it was just too bad that she hated the color pink. It was even worse that she could barely move. And yet, the girl succeeded in sitting up, to find herself in the middle of the street in her pajamas.
Somehow, Emily had managed to wake up in stranger spots.
As the wind grew stronger, trash tumbled across her legs, smacked her in the face, and even got tangled in her hair. Now that she realized it, her hair was much longer than it was when she fell asleep. It was so long that if she stood up, it would be past her knees. The wind suddenly stopped when a piece of worn paper landed squarely on Emily’s lap. There wasn’t much to read.
All it said was 'Date: April 6th, 2120".
It was then that Emily realized something was very wrong.
…
Will edit later. Probably.
I got tired at the end, lol. Enjoy!
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That… was amazing.
I laughed, let’s be real Emily ain’t no saint 
And now I’m intrigued 
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Thank you! I thought making Emily be a complete jerk but her thinking otherwise would be funny. I didn’t really have a plan for this prompt, I just kind of winged it.
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