you've only got one life to live

Longing From Afar Prompts

✭ watching them laugh with someone else and feeling your heart reach toward them like a plant straining for sunlight it knows it will never touch.

✭ the way your eyes always find them in a room, like your heart installed a tracking chip and didn’t ask permission.

✭ them brushing past you with a polite smile, completely unaware that the single second of eye contact was the brightest moment of your week.

✭ rereading old messages from them, not to torture yourself (okay maybe a little), but because their words still feel like warmth trapped in pixels.

✭ catching the ghost of their perfume in a hallway and stopping, breath stolen, because for half a second it felt like they were right there.

✭ pretending not to notice them while memorizing every detail. How they tuck their hair, how they fidget with their sleeves, how their laugh rises and falls.

✭ sitting across the room, both of you immersed in your own worlds, but every now and then they look up and your heart stumbles over itself because they almost smiled at you.

accelerated aging

anxiety and a constant feeling of dread

disorientation / blurred vision

bones cracking and breaking

bruising around hands and arm

burn marks on palms and finger tips

cognitive decline / memory lapses

debilitating migraines

exhaustion / fatigue

eyes reddening when veins pop

greying hair due to strain / eyes losing vibrancy

joint, muscle and limb pain

losing hair, teeth and finger nails

loss of body heat / constantly freezing

nose bleeds / ear bleeds

numbness / slowed reflexes / brain fog

requiring a lot more nutrition and rest

sensitive eyes and ears / raspy, raw voice

twitches and muscle spasms

☽ the dream that starts perfectly normal, until one detail is slightly off, and suddenly everything feels wrong.

☽ objects that behave like they have opinions about you. Bad ones.

☽ someone calling your name in a voice you know…but can’t place.

☽ doors that open to entirely different worlds depending on who opens them.

☽ shadows that move first, and bodies that lag behind.

☽ clocks melting, stretching, or running backwards as if time is mocking you.

☽ trying to dial a phone but every number rearranges itself mid-press.

☽ mirrors that don’t reflect you, but reflect someone else watching you.

☽ the feeling that you’re missing something important, but the dream refuses to tell you what.

☽ dream-logic tasks you suddenly must complete, even though you have no idea what the stakes are.

☽ laughter with no source. Footsteps with no feet. Breathing that isn’t yours.

☽ that slow realization that everyone in the dream knows something you don’t.

☽ colors that don’t exist in real life, but your brain insists they do.

☽ being chased by something you never fully see, just the knowledge of it behind you.

☽ loved ones behaving like perfect strangers, smiling a little too wide.

☽ waking up certain someone whispered your name.

☽ the dream that feels like a warning you weren’t supposed to understand.

☽ nightmares that pretend to end, only for you to “wake up” inside another dream.

There’s this funny misconception that when a character walks into a room, the important part is the room. Writers start scrambling to describe the walls, the wallpaper, the lighting, the color of the rug that no one asked for. And sure, you can do that. But the room doesn’t matter until your character touches it with their thoughts.

And I’m saying this with love, because I’ve written those “character enters room, now here’s a paragraph about the furniture” scenes too. We all have. They’re basically a rite of passage.

But the more you write (and the more drafts you survive) the more you realize something important: the room is NEVER the point. The PERSON entering it is.

When someone walks into a room in real life, they don’t float in like a neutral non-entity. They bring whatever emotional chaos they’ve been dealing with. They bring the argument they just had in the hallway. They bring the secret they’re not ready to tell anyone. They bring the memory the smell of the room just stabbed them with. People don’t arrive clean. They arrive mid-story, even if they pretend they’re fine. So instead of focusing on the chair in the corner, try starting with the emotional “temperature” your character walks in with.

Are they anxious and trying to hide it?

Are they exhausted and hoping nobody notices?

Are they excited but scared they’ll ruin everything the moment they open their mouth?

You don’t have to spell it out like a weather report, just let it tint the way they see the space. Plus, a room changes depending on who’s looking at it. If your character is confident, the space might feel open, manageable, almost welcoming. If they’re overwhelmed, the same room can feel too loud, too bright, too filled with people who suddenly seem to know exactly where they’re going and what they’re doing. If they’re guilty, every shadow becomes suspicious. If they’re sad, the room might seem bigger than it really is.

It doesn’t matter how the room “objectively” looks. What matters is what they see first.

And please let your characters enter rooms in realistically messy ways. Not every entrance needs to be cinematic or in the Hollywood style. Not every character glides. Some fumble the door handle. Some hesitate in the doorway because they suddenly can’t remember why they came in. Some scan the room too fast because they’re nervous and then pretend they weren’t scanning the room at all. Some try way too hard to appear casual and end up bumping into a table they didn’t even notice was there.

That kind of stuff makes your characters feel like a real person and not because the action is interesting, but because it’s familiar. It’s that tiny, “oh god, same” moment between the reader and the character, even if they never consciously notice it.

Ways to Show a Character is Falling in Love and Doesn’t Want To ...

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They notice the sound of their name in that person’s mouth and hate that it sounds better. Like their name was meant to be said that way.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They start to dress better when they might see them, subconsciously at first. “Oh, this old thing?” Sure. The old thing you ironed twice.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their laugh becomes a trigger. Not in the trauma sense, in the “I suddenly forgot how to breathe and now I want to die” sense.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Every conversation feels like walking a tightrope between wanting to tease and wanting to touch.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They say they don’t care, but they’re paying way too much attention. Who they’re talking to. How they’re smiling. Who made them smile.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They avoid them, dramatically, stupidly and it physically hurts. Like withdrawal. They’ll literally hide behind shelves, peek around corners, act like a spy in their own life.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They start saying their name too often. “Oh, yeah, Alex said that too.” “Alex likes that band.” “Alex once...” Shut up, my dude. Please.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They mock them to their friends, but there’s a softness in the way they do it. A little too much affection in the “ugh, they’re so annoying.”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their stomach does that thing, you know the one, when they catch their scent on something, and it’s not even strong, just a hint, and suddenly they’re useless for the next ten minutes.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They overthink texts. “Okay, no emojis looks cold. Too many looks desperate. Maybe one. No, zero. Period. Wait, does the period look aggressive?”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They dream about them, not even romantically, just constantly. Their brain won’t let them rest.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their jealousy doesn’t make sense. “Why are you talking to them?” “Because they’re a person.” “Oh, right, cool, yeah, totally fine, no reason, haha.” (proceeds to spiral internally).

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They act colder, on purpose. But it’s performative. The kind of detachment that’s practically begging to be noticed.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They start arguments for no reason. Because fighting feels easier than confessing.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They imagine kissing them during fights. Yes, during. It’s sick. They hate it.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They think about what they’d say if they ever got drunk enough to tell the truth. Then immediately pray that moment never comes.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their pulse spikes when their phone buzzes. It’s embarrassing how fast they grab it. And when it’s not them? Oh, the rage.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They watch their every expression. Like a scientist studying a dangerous animal. “What does that smile mean? Are they flirting or just friendly?” They never know. It’s torture.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They make jokes about being heartless. “Me? Love? Gross.” Meanwhile, they’re literally halfway in love already.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They defend them when no one asked. “They’re not that bad.” Bro. No one said they were. Chill.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They keep trying to rationalize it, listing all the reasons it can’t work, all the flaws they can find, like that’ll stop the feeling. It won’t.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They flinch when someone else flirts with them, then pretend they didn’t notice.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ They convince themselves the other person doesn’t feel the same, because that’s safer than hoping.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Their denial becomes its own obsession. “It’s not like that.” “It’s nothing.” “I don’t even like them.” Said for the fiftieth time this week.

Ways to Show a Character is Angry but Trying Not to Show It

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ Their jaw flexes while their smile stays plastered on.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ Responses get shorter, clipped: "Fine." "Sure." "Whatever."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ They stop blinking as often, eyes fixed a little too long.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ Their body gets still, unnaturally still, like every muscle is on lock.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ They press their tongue to their teeth before answering.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ They set things down a little too hard, the glass, the pen, the keys. Not enough to break, just enough to say something.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ They keep asking, "Why would you say that?" but never raise their voice.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ Their politeness sharpens into something cutting, brittle.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ They laugh, but it's one note too sharp, too short.

✧ Broken ribs suck. You don’t just “walk it off.” Breathing hurts. Laughing hurts. Existing hurts. Characters with rib injuries won’t be doing heroic sprints.

✧ Concussions aren’t instant naps. Dazed vision, nausea, dizziness, maybe even personality changes, but they’re not going to collapse neatly like in the movies.

✧ Blood loss is sneaky. It’s not just about dramatic pools of blood. It’s dizziness, confusion, and the body getting cold as circulation tanks.

✧ Adrenaline lies. Someone can take a serious injury and not feel it until the fight’s over. That “I didn’t realize I was bleeding until later” trope? Very real.

✧ Twisted ankles are brutal. One bad step and suddenly running is off the table. Even walking hurts like hell. Perfect way to ground a chase scene.

✧ Burns linger. Even small burns hurt more than most people expect. Blisters, infection risk, constant pain, it’s not just a cool scar later.

✧ Dislocated shoulders = useless arm. Characters can’t keep swinging a sword or firing a gun. They’re basically fighting one-armed until it’s fixed.

✧ Shock is a thing. Pale skin, trembling, rapid heartbeat, and eventually disorientation. A character might not even realize how bad their wound is.

✧ Stitches aren’t magic. Getting sewn up is painful and recovery takes time. They’re not instantly battle-ready after a needle and thread.

༒ that awkward shuffle before the first punch, where both fighters are waiting for the other to move first, and it looks like bad dancing.

༒ the first hit hurts both of them... knuckles split, ribs bruise, and nobody looks cool.

༒ someone tries to say a badass line mid-swing and it comes out as a grunt. intimidation ruined.

༒ the sting of sweat in your eyes when you least need it.

༒ missing a punch so badly you almost knock yourself off balance.

༒ that sharp gasp when someone actually connects with your nose. instant tears. instant rage.

༒ ugly sounds: wheezing, choking, gagging, a squeaky “oof.” it’s never cinematic.

༒ realizing halfway through that you’re more tired than you thought. your arms feel like bricks but the fight isn’t over.

༒ hair-pulling. shirt-grabbing. someone’s jacket becomes a chokehold tool.

༒ the raw panic when you hit harder than you meant to and wonder if you went too far.

༒ improvised weapons: a broken bottle, a rock, a chair, hell, even a shoe. survival invents fast.

༒ someone slips on gravel or their own blood. comedy in the middle of chaos.

༒ headbutts hurt both people.

༒ that terrifying half-second of silence when someone doesn’t get back up right away.

༒ biting. spitting. scratching. fights are dirtier than anyone admits.

༒ the crowd (if there is one) gasping louder than the fighters themselves.

༒ your lungs burn, your hands shake, and you realize adrenaline tastes like metal in your mouth.

༒ punches that land on bone make an awful sound, dull, wet, final.

༒ the aftermath: shaking so hard you can’t light a cigarette, tie your shoes, or even text straight.

༒ bruises blooming in real time, like ugly little flowers.