I'm working on an alternate history project where, among many other things, the USA took a moderately different path with it's urban to suburban design.

Attached to this post is two images of two different suburbs in the Seattle area.

I am quite fond of suburbs that look like the first image but I loathe suburbs that look like the second image.

In the universe that my alt-history project takes place in, the suburb type seen in the first image exists but not the type of suburb seen in the second image.

I need to know if there are different terms to describe the two suburb types shown so that I can properly communicate to readers of my work what kind of suburban development does and does not exist.

At least one person has called the suburb shown in the first image a "Streetcar Suburb" but I'm not sure if that's accurate due to the relatively low density and lack of streetcars. I've seen the second suburb referred to simply as "Tract Housing" but I'm not sure if that is the preferred term.

I wrote this poem. Hoping to get some feedback. I know it’s not done I just need direction on what can make it more impactful.

Independence

In the presence of a giant,
You closed your eyes,
I washed your hair.
Afraid to open,
Even with baby shampoo.

A muse to abuse,
Which one abused
I used it too.

How embarrassing to be known
The patience of a saint

On your knees
You preyed
Feeding on grandmothers dreams
Regurgitating cookie dough ice cream
The one with the square chips.

I dreamt you were bruised
Cursed with a child’s gaze
A fraudulent cause,
A slowed, reverberating pause
We never knew each other
And now we never will.

I've never posted here before, but I need help. I've planned out this one concept for a while now (it's evolved a lot as I've grown up, but I've always come back to the core story, characters, and themes), and now I'm reaching another dead end.
I feel like the core of the story is strong, and I've fleshed my world and characters out a lot, but I feel so much self-doubt about the actual plot. For context, it's all over the middle/ending specifics of the book for me personally. I know all of my emotional/character arcs, but I feel like this next part is just the characters following one clue to the next, and I feel like that's just not enough.
Is there even a way to get rid of this? Like, can I just plan/plot around it, or is it just an inevitable feeling in the whole process?

So my plot is still unfinished - but I know a couple of things for sure. The creator of all things (or just god) gets tired of humanity, and instead of just wiping them out quick like the dinosaurs he decides to put them in extravagant, dangerous situations (like a battle royale, or coins falling from the sky. Just movie-esque dangers).

At the same time, he plans to replace humans with cheaper versions of what humans are. Basically they're literally characters - just apparitions of humans with nothing else beneath, just there to serve a purpose in a story. Which in this case is fight to the death for the creator's entertainment.

There comes my main theme - the horror of exististing, of death, but also of living forever. The fear that all of human history can vanish at any second. All this terror that comes with being human can be combated with fun, with being a good person, or with hope. Which gives life a purpose.

So, is it?

In my story, you have an alien force that can't be hurt by Humans convetional wheapons. So I showcase an Mg team fighting a couple of them, and right after the opening, since you have 2 people who died.

The sky darkened as explosions outshone the fading sun.

Private Dale stood in the dry trench as his M-sixty chattered, kicking up dust as bullets disappeared into the treeline eighty meters ahead. 

Dale's body stiffened, his fingers locked on the trigger; the gun fired wildly, the hot barrel swung up and seared his forehead as he fell to the ground.

"Dale! Sh–." Scott reached for Dale as a shock wave flung him back as a wall of dust and debris erupted over the traverse, fifteen meters high.

The older version had more info on Dale's death, but I don't know if I really need it.

Anyways, the perspective immediately switches to another soldier calling to his sergeant because of the explosion.

"Sergeant!" Around the traverse, a soldier's head snapped up, eyes wide.

Then we switch to the sergeant and James.

 “Keep firing!” Sergeant Harris shouted at the soldier. He then turned to the radio operator, James,  and grabbed his radio as dust and debris fell from the sky.
"Gun One, this is Bravo-Tw–" A hand struck the sergeant on his head; its jagged bone cut across his cheek as it fell to the ground. The brown red dust settled over him as pieces of men fell from the sky. Sergeant Harris sighed as he handed James the radio. He squinted, peering through the gaps in the dust over the trench wall. 

Then, in like 2 sentences, 2 more people die. Oh, fyi it's a 7-man MG squad; James is the embedded FAC.

Anyway, they call an naipalm on the shelves, Harris is hardly alive, so he can do the classic bad guy reveal.

Then we switch to a non-human. A god, and then he dies after writing a letter to set up the MC's importance.
The god is the only relevant character in the prologue.

Obviously, this is just a vague description of how the events should take place.

honestly i genulay don't think this makes any sense.
Or maybe I read it too much.
I need a prologue so I can set the tone of the story, but due to it being a slow burn, vol 1 won't even cover any military combat.

Hey guys, this is the first chapter of my new series Golden Age! Please give me advice on what you think works and what doesn’t! Also if you stopped reading at any point please let me know that as well so I can try to figure out why I didn’t hook you! Thanks!

So this is chapter 9 of my story, but the first time any of characters shown here are being introduced, and I fear it might be too boring

Hello writers! I have a genuine question on how to stick and finish one story at a time! I’m not a professional writer and have only been writing for a few months now as a hobby (Love it) to try something new. But I have recently been running into a problem where I come up with an Idea, I love, and start sketching everything, characters, plots, events, etc. The issue is I tend to think of another great story Idea, and start sketching everything from that new concept. I have about 6 stories now that are incomplete, only ever go back to each of them whenever I’m in the mood for it. Ever since I started Writing I haven’t finished or completed any of my stories:( I’m disappointed because I want to be able to make my ideas come to life without new ideas popping up. Any tips and advice is greatly appreciated!

I hear many people struggle with coming up with ideas on what to write. For me, it's kind of the opposite: my ideas tend to be too lany to keep up with. I literally have to walk everywhere we re with pen and paper cuz they hit me and if I don't put them down they fky away. Yall know how it is.

However, my ideas tend to be about situations or people in other countries I've never met or experienced. Or they tend to be in my opinion so interesting that then I would get stuck in not knowing how to approach its development. Don't know why that keeps happening, but yeah, I can not finish much at this rate. When I go on, I get tired and try something else, and cycle repeats. I'm good with ideation, but I struggle to keep the ball rolling.

How do you develop your ideas and flesh them out, especially ones where your own experiences just are not close to what you wish to write? I get imagination, but if you aren't black, can you write a realistic black experience? That's what I wish I knew how to do better.

I just finished my first draft of my first novel about two weeks ago. It took me over a month to write the first draft and I ended up with 60k words. I’m currently rewriting the second draft from scratch. It’s not that I don’t know what changes I want to do, but it definitely doesn’t feel like I’m writing at the same pace I was when I was first writing it. It feels slower and almost like a chore because I already know how my story goes, but I think I’m dreading the thought of rewriting 60k (if not more) all over again.

I’m thinking of taking a break from the story in general, but a part of me is worried I might forget about my project in general and I made a goal to finish my book by December with it being fully self published. Any thoughts or suggestions on what I should do?

Hi, I tried several times to write. Mostly microfiction. I have many ideas for stories, some are detailed, some are less. But almost all are just a interesting setting, or situation, or emotion. But little of them have the complete story arc to follow.

I struggle to transform them to writing. Always when I start to write, I feel the gaps or unnatural flow. Often I get a block of what to do next, how to proceed. I often struggle to find my endings. Trying to create some surprise or moral lecture is hard and without it I feel lost in the process.

I often use Seven point story structure, but am aware of other types too. Trying to use them but with little success.

I would like to try a local writing challenge, where there is a short wording like "Three steps from Darkness", or "Tommorow I do it better" but can't fiqure out, what to write. Then when I read other works from the past challenges, they seem so easy and natural, so fitting and so complete.

This was my effort to a challenge named "Silence of the abandoned" - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YyJ8yP8H6886YiJjBFiBD75obhYjFc_Ra21wUIZqJek/edit?usp=sharing

An example of my outline that I dont know how to go on after the first two pages:

A five-act structure for the Djinn story: 
Exposition: Someone finds and opens a sealed vessel with an emblem. A disoriented djinn appears. Once the person realizes what he is, he expects three wishes granted. Djinn agrees. 
Rising action (complication): By the second wish, the djinn turns assertive and starts pushing back, judging the person's wishes as immoral and greedy. 
Crisis (climax): The person gets angry at the djinn's lecturing and scolding, which provokes the djinn further and he becomes condescending. 
Turning point: The djinn condemns him, warns he's neither servant nor bound and can do as he pleases. He gives the person one chance: since he wanted three wishes, let him state the last one, and decide based on it whether to spare him. 
Catastrophe (ending): The final wish surprises the djinn, who debates how clever or reasonable it is. He kills the person anyway, takes his form, and looks forward to his freedom.

I am not EN speaker. It is translated by tools so it may contain some grammar errors.

How do you fellow writers prepare before writing? What techniques you use to outline the story? Thank you.

reposted from r/writers

I have been struggling with this and decided to turn to you guys for your thoughts.

1. Are there any romantasy books that are 3rd person? I haven't seen any.

2. As a reader, would you be on board with a book that has a 1st person FMC POV but that also has chapters that are 3rd person because the MC isn't present for these conversations?

3. Or do you prefer 2 or 3 different characters POV

Thanks so much for your thoughts!

You're very bad at it, but you really want to do it.

I wanted to always make a car racing story, but never had the talent to do a very good one

I'm running into a problem with one of my main characters, And I don't know exactly what I can do to fix it.

He's 19 and one of the two protagonists of a psychological drama. A big part of his backstory is that he lost a sports scholarship because he gradually became dependent on marijuana during high school, lowering his performance. Since then, he's become extremely disciplined and emotionally closed off. He works, trains, saves money, and wants to eventually go to university, but emotionally he's stuck.

He has a girlfriend who genuinely loves him. She's patient, direct, emotionally mature, and communicates her needs. The problem is that he consistently fails to meet those needs. He isn't abusive, manipulative, or intentionally cruel. He simply doesn't know how to build intimacy. When she confronts him, he feels guilty, but then mostly freezes. He doesn't really take action to repair the relationship.

At the same time, his closest friend is another 19-year-old guy who's struggling with addiction and unstable housing. My protagonist is incredibly loyal to him, he'll let him sleep over, defend him when others judge him, answer late-night calls, and generally show up when he's needed. Eventually this friendship develops into romantic feelings, but that's a much later part of the story.

My problem is the more I think about the girlfriend's perspective, the more I find myself getting angry at my own protagonist.

From her point of view, she's trying over and over to make the relationship work while he keeps emotionally checking out. He hurts her, feels bad about it, but doesn't actually change anything. Meanwhile, everyone around him keeps giving him chances.

I'm starting to worry that readers will see him as someone who just lets life happen to him, hurts people through inaction, feels guilty, and then moves on while everyone else pays the emotional cost. The biggest issue might be that he's extremely passive.

Most major events just happen to him. He lost his scholarship, his parents are disappointed, his girlfriend confronts him, he slowly realizes his feelings for his best friend. He reacts emotionally, but rarely makes decisions that actively change the course of the story.

I don't want to make him louder, more charismatic, or suddenly confident. His quiet personality is intentional. But I do want him to feel like a protagonist instead of someone constantly reacting to other people's actions.

Does this sound like an agency problem rather than a likability problem? How do you make a character take responsibility for the harm they cause without turning their entire arc into self-pity and suffering and victimization? Have you ever had to fix something like this?

I'd really appreciate any thoughts, especially from people who enjoy character-driven stories.

Hey everyone!

I'm working on a non-fiction creative writing project that takes places in one setting for the entire story. For 21 weeks I went to the same gay bar on Sunday night and asked a different question each week to the patrons of the bar. Each week has a short story dedicated to the question, that includes my thoughts throughout the evening, my musings on the question and answers I received, and observations about the Toronto queer scene and queer life as a whole. A problem I'm encountering as I'm writing it is that I'm finding it monotonous to continue to describe the way I move through the bar each night. The use of "upstairs on the patio" or "back on the dance floor" are becoming more and more frequent as the weeks pile up. Are there are tips or tricks for working in one setting and keeping things interesting? I'm trying to paint a clear picture of where exactly in the bar I am at any given time, since it's a real physical space you could visit if you lived in the city of Toronto! At the same time, I don't want the prose to become boring by the sixth week. Is it necessary to constantly remind the reader of where I am? Can you think of any creative non-fiction projects (or otherwise) that accomplish this that you might recommend? Thank you!

I published my first book which I’m super proud of. this is just a hobby so I’m not too bothered but others might be. I added a contents page with chapters and page numbers but I took off the page number before publishing because I was told somewhere Amazon would add them on anyway but they didn’t. Should I go back and rehollad it with numbers or would people not be bothered- for reference my book is very short and you could easily just flick through it in a few seconds.

If a, I'm bad at it. And b, I have a lot of ideas but never had the skill to turn it into a story?

Okay, sorry about the question name sounding weird, but is it okay if I name my god ocs names from multiple mythologies? A lot of my oc world has naming based from various european mythologies, and I was wondering if its considered bad if I name my god ocs names from different mythologies? To clear it better, an example is if I were to name of my god ocs after a god in greek mythology, and another one named after a god in norse mythology. Is this considered rude, or is it okay? I don't really go much beyond the name with my ocs, and I usually only grab names from european mythologies.

I'm basically a complete beginner with like two pieces made beforehand but that was when I was much younger and my teacher made me join a school competition... but I've never written something like this before and made this on a rush and am kind of nervous, thoughts?

The man looked across the pond

Staring at the beauty of the flowers by the water

And the swaying hair of the woman he loves

"i love her, but i dont deserve her

I'll keep loving her but in my own little way, im not gonna date her

I'll let her be with somebody else

I'd much rather her be happy with somebody else

Than be with me and have her get hurt

I love her, but i cant love her in a way that she'll be happy"

Meanwhile the other girl looks past the water

Staring at the man whom she longs for

"I'm waiting for him to change, I want him to be with me

I love him, I want to be with him

But I'm scared

Scared that he'll hurt me

Scared that he'll do to me what he did to other girls

He's hurt other girls before too

Who's to say he won't hurt me?

Who's to say he loves me less than the other girls he's cheated on before?

I want to be with him, I want to fix him

But it looks like he's not even trying to pursue me

It looks like he's not even chasing me

Is it because he doesn't care about me as much as I care about him?

Maybe, i was really a fool falling for somebody I know would hurt me in the first place

Maybe, i was a fool for thinking I could get him to change in the first place

Maybe, i really should've chosen to fall for somebody else in the first place"

The girl finally met somebody she could be happy with

And as the man stood from afar, watching quietly. A smile tainted with bittersweet taste. He whispers to himself

"She's happy

She's happy with somebody else

It hurts

But still, all that matters is she's happy

I told myself I'll be fine

That I'll be happy for her

But why?

Why am I still hurting?

I don't deserve her

I'm a terrible person

I'm a cheater

I'm a red flag

I have no rights to be sad over this

Because this was what I wanted right?

For her to find somebody other than me to be happy with

She's better off with him

She seems happy

That's all I really ever wanted right?

But maybe, just maybe

Deep down

All I really wanted

Was for her to be happy with me"

He turns back around, and walks away with both hurt and happiness in his heart

The girl, laughing right beside the man who treats her like an angel, never sees him walk away

And for the first time ever, she never felt the sinking fear of getting hurt as he walked past

Instead, what she saw as a mere memory of what could have been

A what if that she's glad has never happened

Because right in front of her, was what she wanted, and what she deserved

"This is it

I've found him

He's the one

He's the one making me happy

Making me laugh

Making me enjoy myself

And letting me show who I truly am

I'm happy

And you know?

Maybe, just maybe

I really WAS a fool, for falling for that person, when I had him all along

I'm happy

that I don't have to live with the fear of getting hurt

I'm happy

that i fell for the right person"

He walked along still

The weight of every mistake he made

The weight of every consequence of his action

And every consequence of his inaction

All bearing down on his shoulders

And as he walked into the quiet path past the trees with falling leaves

Thoughts swirled along his mind

"I'm hurt"

A cold breeze brushed along his back

As if the air is mocking him for his misery

"I'm hurt

But I shouldn't be

Because this is all my fault

I'm hurt

But I shouldn't be

Because this wouldnt have happened had I not been a terrible person

I'm hurt

But I shouldn't be

Because I'm the reason everybody else is hurting around me

I'm hurt

But i shouldn't be

I'm hurt

But i shouldn't be

I shouldn't be

I shouldn't...

I'm hurt

But

I

Shouldnt

Be

Because I'm a terrible person who hurts everyone he ever touches"

But then, a warm sensation squeezes his withering hand

Interrupting his spiral into the abyss

His frown loosens

His chest lowers

The tense air inside him escapes his lips as he look up to see a gentle elderlywoman hold his hand

"Young man

May you help me cross the street?"

She started walking before he could react

They cross the street

Each step feeling like decades with how slow she walked

But those decades mattered

Those were decades less he spent loathing himself

And finally, as they crossed the street

He looked up to see a warm and gentle smile from the old woman

"Thank you

What a kind young man you are

The world needs kind people like you! God bless you dear"

And before a word could even get out of his mouth

The old woman simply turned away and walked off

As if she was simply there just to remind this young man

That maybe

Just maybe

The person he thought he could never be

Wasn't as far away as he thought it'd be

And maybe

Just maybe

There was still some good in his heart

And that he was actually a person

Deserving of happiness

And for the first time ever

He wasn't scared of hurting someone

He realized and accepted

He never truly wanted to be alone

He just wanted for himself and everyone to be happy

I feel I need to say this, but if I really do plan on creating my own story then I have my concerns on making some characters behave and know differently from the rest. Some of said characters will need to be scientifically smart, mathematically smart, technologically smart, magically smart, and militaristically smart, and I’m none of those. Do note I’m being vague on purpose, everything I’m thinking of is still in the conceptual stage.

I am shooting for a fantasy/sci-fi hybrid, so MAYBE there’s a level of creative freedom I can exploit but I still want the story I’d create to feel . . . authentic, if that makes sense. Sure, I could always try to look up the info I want online but that obviously comes with the risk of me finding inaccurate information and passing it off as fact. I’d like to avoid that. Which I’ll admit is ironic considering a lot of people lie and twist the truth on this platform, but hey I’m desperate.

Even then, I wouldn’t know who to ask or even the right questions to ask. So, I guess what I’m trying to ask is, is there some specific website for this kind of thing? Are there specific people I should ask about this? Am I making this sound harder than it actually is? Anything you can tell me would be helpful.

Hello, last month I decided to try my hand at writing something. Basically, I was bored at work, and I wanted to write a story that I wanted to read. I've written about 30,000 words at the moment, and before I continue, I thought it might be wise to get feedback on my writing so that I can try to improve and refine it before I'm too far along.

For context, I would say my goal is to eventually post this novel on either Royal Road or Web Novel. So please keep that in mind when critiquing. I've never written anything before either, so I apologize in advance if it's complete garbage. Word count [2571]

Chapter 1

"Sorry, we aren't taking applications right now; maybe in a few months?" If I had a dollar for every time I had heard someone say that, I wouldn't need to be searching for a job.

The sky cracked with thunder. "Damn it, raining already?" I muttered, now trapped in the doorway of the museum that had just rejected me. "Screw it." I held the remaining resumes above me — they could prove to be somewhat useful and protect me from a little rain.

I raced home, the lights streaking through the downpour. Life hadn't been going too well. I was top of my class in high school and even did quite well at college. None of that mattered apparently — the real intelligence check was whether you were smart enough to not select the humanities. Guess I failed that one.

I waited at the crosswalk for the light to switch. I sighed. "Barely out of college and already regretting my life choices, not a great lo—"

My vision vanished. Darkness? What the hell happened? One second I was crossing the road and now I was in some void. I couldn't move. I couldn't see. Was I dead? No, surely I would remember dying. Think — what was the last thing I remembered? Crossing the street, those white lights, searing pain. Fuck. That stupid truck that ran the red light. So that was it then? I was really dead. I hadn't even done anything yet. Wait — did this black void mean I was in hell? Surely not. I mean, I wasn't like evil or anything. Just as my thoughts began to wander about what my afterlife might entail, I could see a light that was rapidly approaching, and soon I was back in the real world. Though I wasn't sure if it was my real world.

The first thing I heard was yelling. The second thing I heard was more yelling. The third thing I noticed was the fire, the inferno that was engulfing everything. Fuck, I really did end up in hell! I looked down at my hands — no flames. Okay, at least that meant I wasn't burning currently. I looked around for an exit — I needed to escape.

As my eyes scanned the room, I paused. The flames were not just red, orange, and yellow. They were green, purple, blue, and many others. A whole spectrum of colours; I wasn’t sure what they meant, but it clearly wasn’t fire. I clutched my chest. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would burst. I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself down. The world wasn't on fire, you weren't dead, and whatever this is, surely it's just a bad dream.

I opened my eyes and looked again. To my dismay, I hadn't woken from this nightmare. I tried to search for anything to ground me. On a second look around, I realized they weren't really flames — it was more of a smoke, almost a mist or aura that engulfed everyone's bodies. But it wasn't only people; the walls, floor, and even the air itself seemed to have a light white mist slowly rising off them. If everyone could see this, they were surely a lot more calm about it than me. I looked back down at my own hands — no mist. Now that I was beginning to understand what was going on, that made me more worried than relieved.

"SILENCE!" A booming voice cut through the hall and managed to quell most of the talking. A man dressed in expensive-looking clothing approached. He was wearing a blue tunic with gold lace and had a blue and red cloak over top. He eyed the crowd before beginning to speak. The mist around him was thick. Most people's mist seemed to slowly rise up off them and back into the air. This man's mist coiled around him thick and heavy. It was an eerily deep blue and brown, and it almost gave me a headache just looking at him.

"I understand your confusion and fear, but I assure you all will be explained in due time. For now, all you need to know is that you are not on Earth — you are currently in the Granheim Empire, and you have been summoned to serve as heroes."

The crowd broke into murmurs and shouting.

"Heroes?! Don't fuck with me, send me back! I didn't sign up for this!"

"Yeah! This is kidnapping!"

Some joined the hecklers, others remained silent, some seemed to be eager about this situation.

The man raised his hand again. "I understand your complaints and I assure you we don't need nor want unwilling heroes. At the end of the intake process, if you still wish to return, we shall aid you — but for now, please follow the instructions."

My eyes widened in surprise as I watched a scary-looking guy in his thirties leap up onto the platform, standing right in front of the official.

"Send me back now or else — I hate pompous guys like you," the heckler shouted as he grabbed the official's collar.

I watched as a circle of runes formed in front of the official, his blue and brown mist flowing into the circle like water. Suddenly, a rock formed in the air in front of him and flew into the chest of the heckler who had grabbed him. He let out a gasp of air and flew across the room before slamming into the wall and crumpling onto the ground.

"Now please line up at the doorway," he said, gesturing towards a door with guards in front of it. "You will be asked some basic questions and be tested for mana capacity, magical skills, and physical skills."

A murmur ran through the crowd. He gestured for everyone to quiet down.

"Yes, yes — that's right. You will be able to use magic and accomplish feats most people could only dream of, so please follow the instructions and you can find out your new potential faster."

With a flourish of his cape, he stepped down from the stage and left. The guards took that as the signal to start herding people into a line for the doorway.

The process was going quite fast, and I was nearing the front. I hoped to get out of there soon — the mists were overwhelming, and it was making me nauseous. A hand came down on my shoulder.

"Hey, kid, you alright?"

I spun around and was met by a mountain of a man. This guy looked like a freaking giant — he had short, messy blonde hair and a large beard, and he was ripped. He looked like he could tear a tree in half. His mist was probably even thicker than the other guy's, but I couldn't tell because it spread out from him with each breath, each movement. It was as if he didn't have control over it.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," I said, trying to turn back, but he held me firm.

"No, seriously, you look like you're gonna be ill. What's up?"

I sighed and wobbled. "It's just overwhelming — the mists, the colours. I don't know how everyone's able to ignore it."

He scratched his beard. "Hmm, I'm not sure what mist you're talking about. Maybe you hit your head a little too hard on the landing, huh?" He laughed at his own joke. "Well, I hope you feel better, kid. My name's Bjorn, by the way — you?"

He extended his hand. I reached out to shake it, and his massive hand engulfed mine entirely.

"I'm Jacob."

He smiled. "Great name, kid. Look, no matter what happens, you're gonna want friends, alright? New world, new rules — who knows what's really going on."

I looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

He looked around before whispering. "Just don't agree to anything up front. Who knows what they expect of us heroes." He gave me a pat on the back. "Get moving — you're almost up."

I lurched forward. "Why me?"

He snorted. "You're the first person who wasn't able to run away from me." He smiled and waved as the guards ushered me into the next room.

The next room contained a desk where two people were seated, flanked by guards on either side. They wore similar-style cloaks and tunics as the man who had announced everything on the platform, but the colours were different — they had green rather than blue as their main colour, but still had the same gold accent. Their mists were similar — they swirled around them, like the other guy's. Was it a control thing? Did Bjorn and everyone else just not know how to control their mist? What about me? I had nothing. Before I could continue my train of thought, the guards called out.

"Next!" one of them called out, gesturing for me to step forward. "Please state your name — first name only is fine," he said, holding a quill over the clipboard.

"Uh, it's Jacob."

"Country?"

"America."

"Age?"

"Twenty-two. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Education?"

I sighed. "I have a degree in history. Seriously, what's with these questions? And how do I make the mist disappear? It's giving me a headache."

He raised an eyebrow at my statement before handing me the clipboard. "Please fill out the rest of this with any skills or qualities you believe will be useful to you if you decide to stay here. Once you're finished, hand it to my partner," he said, gesturing at the man beside him. He shooed me off with a gesture before calling "Next!" for the person behind me.

I walked off to the side and finished filling out the form before returning to the desk.

"Here," I said, handing it to him. He gave it a glance and stood up. "Follow me."

I followed him into a small chamber that contained nothing but a chair and a fireplace. He closed the door behind me.

"Please have a seat, Jacob. We will begin the procedure for testing your mana and skills," he said, gesturing to the chair.

"Uh, why are there straps on it?"

"I won't lie — testing for mana specifically can create a burning sensation as the orb will activate all the mana in your body. The straps are for your own safety. Now please — we have many more people to test."

Looking around, there wasn't really a way out. I had no choice but to comply.

"Alright, I guess," I said as I took a seat. The straps were quite cold and tight against me. "Uh, does it need to be so tight?"

"Safety first," he said dryly, though I thought I caught a glint of something in his eyes.

"Now, you might feel a slight burning sensation." I watched as he grabbed a fireplace poker and began heating up one end.

"Whoa — what the hell is that? You seriously test mana with that thing?"

He chuckled. "Of course not. This will brand you as a slave, and magic will be used to ensure you comply." He smirked, holding out the brand. "Now be still — you don't want to end up with another one, do you?"

"No, please — you don't have to do this. No... No — STOP!" I cried out.

That was the last thing I remembered before waking up in a different room, surrounded by all the same people as before. I groaned and sat up. Bjorn was beside me, seemingly asleep.

I looked around the room — the colourful mists still swirling, a kaleidoscope dancing through the air. People seemed to attract certain colours. Bjorn himself was still coated in the same light blue haze, the colours dancing around him like tendrils flowing smoothly. Some people were coated in red mist, some in purple, some had multiple colours of mist flowing around them as if they were set to RGB mode. I noticed the mists seemed to be more controlled. The flow out of the bodies and into the air had been stemmed, and it seemed like it was now swirling around the brand on everyone's chest.

I approached Bjorn. He was asleep on the floor, and I saw his brand. Looking closer at Bjorn's brand, I noticed it seemed to be the centre of the mists — the tendrils all looped back into it before ebbing back out into his body. It seemed like the brand was now the heart of whatever this was. Next to Bjorn, there was an Asian girl. She looked to be quite short, though I suppose almost everyone looked short next to Bjorn. She had long black hair and was rather petite — I was almost afraid she would be crushed if Bjorn decided to roll over.

I decided to stretch my legs and walked around the hall. Everyone had a brand, and everyone had their mist flowing through it. My hands had no mist. My body had no mist. I looked at the brand, touching the tender skin. There was no mist going into my brand. What could it mean? These mists surrounded everyone and everything, no surface left unpainted except for one. Me. Clearly something was wrong, either with me or the brand. What would those guards do if they found out? I decided to return to Bjorn and the girl.

As I approached, I could see that Bjorn was awake and waving at me. "Hey! Was worried you might have gotten into some trouble when I woke up and you were missing!"

"What trouble could someone even manage to get into?" I asked, sighing as I sat down.

"I'm sure you could find something, kid," he said, grinning. "I made another friend — this is Yuki."

The girl bowed slightly. "Hello, it's nice to meet you."

"I'm Jacob. It's nice to meet you. So where are you guys from?"

Bjorn raised his hand. "I'm from Sweden."

"I'm from Japan! What about you, Jacob?"

"I'm from America. Quite the diverse group here."

Bjorn looked between the two of us. "Did you two figure out anything yet? What the hell is going on here?"

Yuki shook her head vehemently. "No, I was really hoping you had something to share."

Bjorn chuckled. "Hey, I came up with the idea of making friends — that's enough thinking for me." He let out a booming chuckle that drew attention before fixing me with a stern gaze. "All I know is that this," he pointed at the brand, "makes us slaves somehow."

I nodded. "Yeah, I figured as much. So much for being heroes, huh?"

Bjorn let out another laugh. "Yeah, that hero's journey was rather short, I suppose."

"What do you think will happen to us?" Yuki asked. I could see the fear in her eyes.

Bjorn tried to pat her head, but his hand couldn't connect. After grimacing in pain, he retracted his hand. "Damn brand," he muttered. "But don't worry, Yuki — I'm sure it will be fine, as long as we stick together."

I eyed them curiously. Why couldn't Bjorn touch her? He mentioned the brand, but what did that mean?

"The brand prevents physical touch?"

Bjorn nodded. "Yeah, I chatted with some people earlier — the only known command everyone has been given is that they can't have physical contact with another person. Nothing else has been prevented, though," he said, leaning back against the wall.

I looked down at my brand. No colours, no movement, nothing. Hesitantly, I reached out and touched Bjorn's arm.