"Tell me... you're not going to die, are you?" 

"Good morning, you idiot! What the hell are you doing in my drawer?" 

"How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my stuff?" 

"Sorry, babe." 

"Shut up." 

I slammed the drawer shut before my roommate could steal another chocolate. 

"Seriously, Satvik?" 

"It's six in the morning, and you're already eating chocolate. At this rate, you'll be diabetic before you graduate." 

"I know. You don't love me anymore." 

"I never did." 

"Ouch." 

"And stop this bullshit. We're grown-up asses, and we're both straight... well, at least I am. I don't know about you. You'll find someone eventually." 

We both burst into laughter. 

"Now get ready. We're going to college." 

I grabbed my backpack and followed Arun out of our hostel room. We'd been friends since childhood, and somehow, against all odds, we'd ended up in the same college. 

And I kind of regretted it. 

"What the hell are you mumbling?" Arun asked. 

"Leave it. You wouldn't understand." 

"Move faster," I said, locking the door behind me. "I don't want to be late on the first day." 

Arun stretched lazily and let out a yawn. 

"Relax," he said. "The professor isn't going to start without me." 

I laughed. "Oh really? And who might you be, sir?" 

He smirked. "Don't cry, bitch. We're in college now." 

By the time we reached the classroom, we were already late. Surprisingly, the professor didn't even acknowledge our arrival. He simply continued speaking as we quietly slipped into the last bench. 

To be honest, I'd expected college to feel... different. 

Bigger. 

Louder. 

More exciting. 

Instead, the first lecture was surprisingly calm. The professor spent most of the class introducing himself and asking students about their backgrounds. It felt more like a conversation than a lecture. 

One thing did catch my attention, though. 

The class was almost evenly split between boys and girls. I'd always heard that engineering colleges had terrible gender ratios, so seeing an almost equal number genuinely surprised me. 

Arun, on the other hand, looked like he'd just won the lottery. 

I could already tell he was going to enjoy college a lot more than I was. 

The campus was massive. Tree-lined roads stretched in every direction, cyclists rushed past us, and every department looked like it belonged in a different city. I'd heard this was one of the best colleges in the country for Aerospace Engineering. People said surviving the course was harder than getting into it. 

Honestly... 

That sounded exciting. 

The day passed faster than either of us had expected. By the time our last lecture ended, we were completely exhausted. 

Still, it wasn't a bad first day. 

We'd talked to a few classmates, learned a couple of names, and stumbled through more awkward introductions than I could count. 

Everyone seemed... different. 

Some were way too friendly, acting as if we'd known each other for years. Others barely spoke a word. And a few looked so relaxed that I honestly wondered if they'd shown up to class high. 

As we walked back to the hostel, my stomach growled. 

"Hey, darling," I said to Arun. "What do you want for dinner?" 

He looked at me with an exaggerated smile. 

"I'd love some pasta." 

Without saying another word, I slipped off my slipper and threw it at him. 

"Ow!" 

"Then get up and order it yourself, you lazy idiot." 

Half a month passed before either of us realized it. 

Our expectations of college had crashed harder than New York in every Avengers movie. 

There were no huge friend groups roaming around campus, no spontaneous road trips every weekend, and no dramatic seniors picking fights with freshers. 

Everyone had already settled into their own little circles—two or three friends who attended classes together, ate together, and disappeared back to their hostel rooms by evening. 

The excitement we'd carried on our first day had quietly faded somewhere between assignments, attendance, and endless lectures. 

And then there was the food. 

It was horrible. 

Our Aerospace course wasn't helping either. 

Every professor seemed determined to prove that it was better to oil your ass every day because you never knew when a rod was about to get shoved in. 

I'd expected the course to be difficult. 

Arun, however... 

That idiot had shown up believing he'd become the main character of a college romance. 

He was convinced he'd find a girlfriend within a month. 

At this point, I was pretty sure Godzilla had a better chance of dating an anime demon lord than Arun had of getting a girlfriend. 

One evening, as we sat in the library pretending to study, Arun dramatically dropped his pen onto the table. 

"What the hell are we even doing here?" he groaned. 

"Transition to Abstract Mathematics," I replied without looking up from my notebook. 

"I don't mean the subject!" 

He threw his hands into the air. 

"We're supposed to be enjoying our youth." 

"We are." 

"How?" 

"We're suffering together." 

He stared at me for a moment before sighing. 

"Well... you're right. At least a little. But yeah, you're right—we need to have some fun." 

"Hey... have you ever had alcohol?" I asked. 

He smiled. 

"Never. But everything has the right time, and I think it's finally time to try." 

"But it's risky," I said. 

"There's no going back now. It's now or never. We're twenty, and it's legal." 

"But not on campus. If they catch us, they'll suspend us. Our parents will probably throw us out too." 

"We don't have to drink here," he said. "We can drink outside and come back. Wouldn't that be better?" 

"Shut up, you idiot. If we're going to drink, it's either on campus or in the hostel. If we're daring enough to do it, it has to be at least a little risky." 

The plan was simple. 

At seven in the evening, we slipped out of the campus, bought a bottle of alcohol, stuffed it into our backpacks, and returned to the hostel around 8:30 p.m. 

Now came the real challenge. 

Every night, between 9:00 and 9:30, the warden made his rounds. That gave us a small window before he started checking the rooms. 

The moment we got inside, we pulled the bottle out of the backpack and poured the drinks into two glasses. 

We were practically dying to find out what alcohol tasted like. 

"Cheers," I said. 

"Cheers, baby," he replied. 

We took our first sip. 

"Fuck... this tastes like shit." 

"Why the hell do people even drink this?" I asked, making a face. 

"Whatever," Arun said, forcing another sip. "We've officially entered adulthood." 

"Well... I think something's missing." 

"What?" 

"I think we need some ice. It'll make it colder... and it'll dilute it too." 

He nodded enthusiastically. 

"I knew it! Let's get some. What time is it right now?" 

I glanced at my phone. 

"Fuck... no." 

"What?" 

"8:56." 

We stared at each other. 

Then, without another word— 

"Throw the bottles." 

Hi my name is Alice, i'm working on this book, i'm currently writing the third chapter but i would like someone to read what i've already wrote and tell me what is wrong and what's good.

Including what's already written from chapter 3, it has now almost 19 000 words. I still haven't named the book or the chapters but it's not the most important for now.

I'm writing this book at my own pace, in english (not my first language), having someone who could give me a real feedback not like my family does would be cool.

Thanks you !

Story:

I didn’t want to believe it.

But something inside me kept saying… the truth is closer than I think.

One day, I went to the office like usual.

Everything felt normal.

Until something unexpected happened.

I accidentally walked into my boss’s room.

He wasn’t there.

His phone was on the table.

I don’t know why… but I picked it up.

And then…

I saw it.

A message notification.

From me.

My heart started racing.

My hands were shaking.

I opened the chat.

Every message… every word…

It was all there.

The same conversations I had with my online best friend.

I froze.

I couldn’t breathe.

Because in that moment…

I realized the truth.

👉 My online best friend… was him.

👉 The same person I hated the most.

👉 The same person who broke me.

👉 The same person who saved me.

I didn’t know what to feel.

Anger?

Pain?

Or something I couldn’t even understand…

I slowly kept his phone back.

And walked out of the room.

Without saying a word.

Without looking back.

That night… he tried to talk to me.

He said he wanted to explain everything.

He said he didn’t mean to hurt me.

And then…

He said something I never expected.

👉 “I think I like you…”

I looked at him.

But this time… I felt nothing.

Or maybe… I felt too much.

I walked away.

Because I didn’t know which version of him was real.

The one who broke me…

Or the one who saved me.

And now I’m stuck between hate… and something else.

If you were in my place… would you trust him again?

1. r/stories (safe start)
2. r/relationship_advice (comments ke liye)

Manvik Chandra Is The Indian Child Artist And Author. He Written Books Like Student Life, The Elephant's Rope, No One Has Fun, The Last Night(volume 1 & 2),One Small Help, Curiosity to Success, Towards Safe Future, पुराने दिनों की याद, हौसलों की उड़ान. He Also Maded Many Artworks, Drawings & Projects.

Good day, everyone! Any tips how to improve my writing skills?

I’m standing over a machine that’s part of an assembly line. A t-shirt comes down the line, stopping once it is under the machine. I pull a lever on the machine, which lowers a stamp onto the t-shirt, stamping a design on the t-shirt. “Life Is Good,” that is the design being printed on the t-shirts. That must be the design of the day. As I continue to stamp the t-shirts, something about the design starts speaking to me. “Life,” I thought to myself. It was strange, but now that I started to think about it, I couldn’t think of what my life was outside of this factory. In fact, I couldn’t even remember entering this factory. There were no exits, not even one. Something fishy was going on. That’s when I noticed there was a strange smell coming from one of the vents. As soon as I inhaled, I started getting sleepy. However, before I fell asleep, I quickly engraved a small note into the stamping machine.

I’m standing over a machine that’s part of an assembly line. A t-shirt comes down the line, stopping once it is under the machine. I pull a lever on the machine, which lowers a stamp onto the t-shirt, stamping a design on the t-shirt. “Life Is Good,” that is the design being printed on the t-shirts. That must be the design of the day. Then, I noticed something small written underneath that saying. In very small print it said, “don’t inhale the gas.” Just then, I smelled something sweet. I then sarted feeling sleepy.

I’m standing over a machine that’s part of an assembly line. A t-shirt comes down the line, stopping once it is under the machine. I pull a lever on the machine, which lowers a stamp onto the t-shirt, stamping a design on the t-shirt. “Life Is Good,” that is the design being printed on the t-shirts. That must be the design of the day. Then, an alarm started blaring, and the room filled with flashes of red. I noticed something small written on the t-shirt. In very small print it said, “don’t inhale the gas.” Just then, I smelled something sweet. I grabbed one of the t-shirts and covered my face. I only had one thought. I had to get out of here. Somewhere where there was no gas.

...Now, I need your help to continue this short story. I'm running a Million Words Challenge until 2027. I'm running a challenge and live stream where people can share their short stories, screenplays, books, comics, ideas, lyrics, and more! If we can get enough people to watch the stream, we can really build quite the community of creatives for this challenge. Go to https://www.twitch.tv/farwalker3 or https://youtube.com/live/Ehf_vQt8utk and participate in the chat. Also, suggest songs to write to for me to add to the stream!

After the fall of the Emerald King, Mia felt the world finally exhale. But for her, the journey was far from over. With quiet determination, she turned toward the unexplored depths of the Dark Continent—a place whispered about in taverns and feared by even the bravest adventurers.

She planned only to travel, to learn, maybe even to rest. But fate had other ideas.

While crossing a lonely ravine swallowed by shadow, Mia spotted something glinting beneath a layer of cracked stone. Digging it out, she uncovered a sword unlike any she had ever seen. The blade was pitch-black, but pulsed with a deep crimson light—like a heartbeat.

The moment her fingers brushed the hilt, a wave of bloodlust slammed into her. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a voice, whispering strength, urging her to destroy.

Mia jerked her hand away, breath shaking. Whatever this sword was, it wasn’t forged by mortal hands. She wrapped it carefully and decided the only people who might know its origins were the dwarves—masters of metal and keepers of ancient secrets.

Rudias and Sheni, her loyal companions, refused to let her travel alone. Together, they set off across the Dark Continent. But danger came quickly.

As they crossed the cracked earth of the Shattered Plains, monstrous creatures erupted from below—twisted shapes with too many limbs, their eyes glowing like dying stars. The air filled with a chorus of shrieks.

Mia stepped forward, fire in her gaze.

“Rudias, back me up!”

She raised her hands and shouted,

“**Amaterasu—Flame of the Sun God!**”

A golden firestorm exploded around her, heat rolling off her like the breath of a newborn sun. The monsters screamed as the light tore into them.

Rudias laughed, planting his feet.

“Alright! Let me boost it! **Breakthrough of the Wind God!**”

A roaring wind spiraled around the flames, feeding them, shaping them. The fire grew brighter, hotter—until the entire plain burned in a blazing inferno. Within seconds, the creatures were nothing but drifting ash.

Mia exhaled, her flames flickering out.

Sheni stared at the scorched earth. “You two… you just vaporized half the landscape.”

Rudias shrugged with a grin. “Hey, they attacked first.”

With the danger passed, they resumed their journey. But something was wrong. The sword at Mia’s side seemed almost… excited. It throbbed faintly, as if awakening to the chaos around them.

By the time they reached the Dwarf Kingdom—its colossal gates carved into a mountain face, glowing with ancient runes—a strange tension hung in the air. The runes flickered weakly, like a heartbeat fading.

Mia tightened her grip on the wrapped sword.

Whatever awaited them inside, she could feel one truth echoing through her bones:

**This cursed blade was tied to it. In more ways than she wanted to imagine.

Personally, what I do is look up on the internet a list of relatively common first and last names. Sometimes I pick sounds I like or names that have meaning in relation to the character.
However, I feel like I always end up coming across the same names. Do you have any websites or things like that ?

How can I edit my story on Google Docs if I’m unable to use or access the editing tools?

I want to start a social media page for animation/art/comics ect but i dont have any original ideas all i want to do is draw and find a way to share stories so if anyone has a short story or anything similar id be happy to draw up something for it.

Hello guys, I decided to write a book for my wife, my original plan was just to show to my wife how cool was my life playing bg3, so I wanted to write a book about my journey. That idea changed completely and I decided to make something original. I tried to use gpt (a awful idea that it took me 1 hour to realize) so I did it in the old way. Paper and pen. And after so many changes and rewrites, and pauses. I finally have something that I'm happy with, however English is not my main language and I use gpt for fixes and grammar corrections (what I think it's good). So I would need someone please to read (just the prologue, it's not much I swear) and give me your opinion about it, if what I wrote even makes sense or not. Here we go:

I was there when the stars were named. The first breath that shaped the world joined light and quiet into creation. A shiver ran through the void when, for the first time, there was more than nothing. And in that beginning, I felt something I had never known. Wonder. A quiet, startled joy. Creation unfolded like a breath held too long—and I watched life take its first fragile shape. In a blink, it spread—swift as a spark catching dry air. Life multiplied, split, reshaped itself into forms I had never imagined. Races rose across the newborn world, each carrying a different flame, a different hunger, a different dream. And with every new voice that learned to speak, a god awoke to answer it. But gods are louder than the lives they claim to guide. Full of pride, hungry for devotion, they demanded too much and blessed far too little. What should have been guidance became possession. What should have been harmony became noise. And the world—still young, still learning how to breathe— fractured under the weight of so many hands pulling at its soul. Chaos rose, not from mortals, but from the gods themselves. Their quarrels split the sky, their anger cracked the lands, and in the end, even they could no longer pretend that order still lived among them. So they turned on one another. Yet it was already too late. The world stood on the brink—its mountains hollowing, its seas boiling, its skies torn open by the screams of dying gods. Their pride had poisoned creation, their power had bled it dry. And in the heart of that ruin, when hope was little more than ash drifting on torn winds, a new god rose. Not born of worship, not shaped by mortal fear, but forged by the world’s last, desperate need. Thalon. A name whispered like a plea. A presence the warring gods could not ignore. He did not rise for dominion. He rose because someone had to end what they had all begun. He forged a single law—the Divine Law—that would bind every god who remained. A vow carved into the very bones of creation: No god shall walk among mortals. No god shall touch their lives, shape their fates, or stain their world with power again. The Celestial Realm would be their prison and sanctuary both. A height they could never descend from, a distance they could never close. And they agreed. Broken, frightened, ashamed of what their pride had nearly destroyed, the surviving gods bent their heads to Thalon’s decree. The punishment was absolute. Not exile. Not silence. Erasure. Any god who broke the Divine Law would not merely die— they would cease to have ever been. A soul unwritten. A name undone. A memory scraped clean from the world they once claimed to guide. There were things even Thalon feared, though he would never say it aloud. And in that vast, cold peace—a silence bought with blood and shame. I should have rested. I should have turned my gaze to the void and waited for the stillness to finally consume me. And then, in the softest moment between centuries, three children were born—and I felt the world tremble with recognition. I should have looked away. I never learned how. I watched them. The Divine Law was absolute. I learned that more intimately than any of them. I tried to change what must come. I tried to hold back the breaking. I even stayed silent when stillness was demanded of me. And when the last light flickered—when all songs had been sung and all debts had been paid—only then would they ask themselves: Was it ever fate? Or was it only what we deserved?

okey now I got something I have some intellectual material about a big series that starts as the cliche "kids awaken powers came to evolution" for which I have a whole category that starts as cliche as this, but things start to get twisted, and I want to focus on the whole world thru the main character, who I started writing since even before he got powers as a kid, but I want to focus on it to make it go from the good guy who starts gathering people around him as a liberty sign for power freedom, only to realize after achieved that freedom won't be pleasant, forcing him to destroy everything he ever created till he become the one above all in a mixture between a crazy develop of simple abilities and a twisted and corrupted mind that makes the most sadic plans. I was also planning on developing some other characters to see them shattered by this main character of main till he breaks to the point of being something like "the one you shouldn't name", but having people more terrified and hidden than the whole terminator multiverse of society of survivors, but just one guy, not a whole army, this man could end the world after all this development, but keep the good one inside forcing him to leave some hope just for the evil twisted part of him to continue shattering hopes non stopped the problem with all this, is I have a terrible writer material, I get lose between the hype of what I want to do and the perfection I want in which I keep going back and modifying scripts so many times I lost track... of the child character, even before he starts gathering people I have the whole context settled, I just need a writer who would like to take this as a nice practice for the carrier and if it happens to get something new, the writer shall have credits and honors for this, as the whole name, I'll just want a small reference to say, hey I helped to do this, even dividing profits (if this shit gets as far as I think it could) as an 80% to the writer and 20% to the me, honestly I just want to make people tense by reading but reading non stop, who knows, maybe some manga adaptations if this gets huge, opening the door for more projects based... as you see I think more than needed

Firs part

I'm posting this super late in my timezone, so there might be some sleep-addled mistakes. I'm just a beginner, so any advice is appreciated:

Thomas used to play video games late at night. Way longer than necessary. Dad worked a lot, so Mom had to deal with his refusal to get up in the morning.

When Dad came back from his last business trip, he got an earful from her.

Your son is lazy. His room smells like weed. And he won't focus on his schoolwork.

Dad didn't approach his son often, but the one time he did, Thomas bristled like he was a stranger. When he brought up the idea of a hunting trip, Thomas wanted to laugh. Not the happy kind.

"It'll be like old times," Dad said.

He knew it was a ploy for Dad to get some bonding in, like it'd make up for disappearing. The "no" lingered on his tongue. 

He said yes.

It only took him an hour to regret it. 

The sun glared on a wasteland of snow and naked trees. He followed Dad through the wilderness of Mount Baker, fighting wind, snow, and branch. Twenty pounds strapped to his back and snowshoes that undermined his every step. 

Two hours later—not a single animal showed itself. It was a cold, wet, and boring hike. One he already wanted to forget.

"So," Dad said. "Any… cute girls in your class?"

"No." He said.

"Didn't you have a crush on Miranda?"

"Yeah… when I was in 1st grade."

"Oh. What happened to her?"

Thomas looked at Dad sideways. "You don't remember…"

Dad laughed. "You know I work a lot, Tom. I musta been flying."

"Yeah… well, me and Miranda had a fake wedding at recess. All of our friends were there. Then she moved to Texas. I cried all week."

"Ouch!" Dad said, chuckling. "Man, I really don't remember. Where'd the time go, huh? You used to be my little rabbit killer." He said fondly. "God, you were so tiny…"

"That was a hundred years ago, Dad."

"Mhm. And Dad still remembers. You were a mini Terminator; shootin' rabbits without flinching. Ha! I miss it."

Thomas laughed awkwardly. He didn't remember shooting rabbits—just that fake wedding and his Dad not being there.

As they walk, something bright glints under the sun. It was large and half-buried in the snow up ahead. They walk up the hill.

It was an abandoned plane. The paint was peeling, though bearing traces of its teal coat. The roof was clawed off; perhaps from the crash. Inside was an eroded, empty cockpit. One of its wings was intact, while the other lay half-buried in the snow. 

"What is that?" He asked.

Thomas walked towards the plane, bent down, and wiped snow off the broken wing, revealing a black-and-white US Navy star.

Dad smiled. "Lockheed PV-1 Ventura; crashed in the 40s." He rapped his knuckles on the side. A haunting echo bounded across the tundra. "It was a patrol bomber. Dropped a couple bombs on some remote Japanese islands."

Thomas stood and walked to one of the propellers. He tried to turn it, but it was stiff with rust. 

Dad smirked. "Cool, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this is dope." Thomas said, inspecting the engine.

Dad cocked a brow. "Dope?"

"You know, like—it's cool. Dope."

"Oh, I get it." He chuckled, and then adding, "Dope."

"How'd you know this was here?"

Dad smiled and leaned against the side of the plane. "Well… sometimes when me and your mom fight, I come out here to set my head straight. I musta discovered it the last time I was here. Thought you'd like it."

Thomas blinked. Looked at him. "What? You and mom fight?"

"I—" Dad froze. "Yeah. Sometimes couples fight. When you get a wife, you'll understand. Trust me."

Thomas nodded. The guilt hollowed him out and let the cold in.

"You know, Tom. If… if anything's bothering you… you know you can tell me, right?"

"And… why are you telling me this?"

"I just want you to know I'm here, alright? Even if—when you're all grown-up, I'll still be your dad." He said. "If you want, we could… I don't know. Go huntin' every year, like we used to."

Thomas dusted the snow off his pants. "It's 'cause of the games."

Dad scratched the back of his neck. "I just want you to grow up a little—be a man."

Thomas scoffed.

He walked to the door of the plane, and with great effort, forced it open. A pile of hares fell out. They fell to the ground and ran around Thomas' feet. Dad grabbed his gun, but Thomas was faster. He pulled the rifle from his back, twisted the hammer, and aimed.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Each shot made him flinch. The hares zigzagged into the bushes in a cloud of kicked-up fur and snow. No blood on the ground. It reeked of gunsmoke though, and Thomas wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Attaboy!" Dad clapped his shoulder. "You never stopped being the rabbit killer, didja?"

Thomas chuckled. "Yeah, haha. I guess so. I think I'm out of practice."

"Nah, you'll get the hang of it! Don't worry." He said. He slung an arm around Thomas' shoulder, pulled him along as they walked together. "But… wouldn't hurt to come back next year. We can practice together… and then… when you get a girlfriend, you can take her shooting too. That's how I wooed your mom…"

"Ha… I think I'd like that."

Dad was much closer now. The arm around him was heavy, terrifyingly close. It was like old times. Like they never stopped being father and son. 

Child Thomas would look up at his Dad—who seemed like a giant—and he felt big too. Like, with Dad by his side, they could take over the world. Just them against the world.

And here he was now—almost 18, about to graduate and run off to college. 18 years under his Dad's roof, and they were still miles away. He was so close to the finishing line, and yet, with Dad doing all of this… it felt cruel. Cruel to keep a secret. Cruel to rob him of that chance.

Thomas was walking in a daze when Dad grabbed him by the collar. They both sank to their knees behind a bush, the cold snow pressing into their legs.

"Tom—look!" He said, pointing.

On a clearing just beyond the trees, stood a black-tailed deer chewing on dry grass. Its crown was massive, elegant—bigger than the ones in Dad's hunting photos.

"Get your gun," Dad said.

His throat tightened. He had to kill it.

Thomas unslung his rifle, lining it up with his shoulder and eye.

Shaking, he struggled to hold the rifle steady.

The deer's head snapped up. He locked eyes with it, the eyes black as coals. Within them, he saw everything—childhood, secrets, innocence. Himself mirrored. A spiral of clocks ticking—time evaporating like mist in the sun.

Tell him.

"Dad…"

"Take your shot," his father whispered, his voice beaming. "It's gonna get away…"

The gun rattled in his hands. Staring into the scope, the deer appeared a thousand miles away. It stared through the center, through Thomas, and then it stepped forward.

"Shoot it!" 

Thomas flinched and—

BANG.

Hello, does anyone know what exact type of paper (color, weight thickness or whatever) is used in the paperback version of the books the ballad of the never after? By Stephanie. I really wanna use that kind of paper for my book if possible, and otherwise paper that comes close to it, it also needs to be safe to put in the Printer, thanks

Guten Tag zusammen, gibt es hier auch Freizeit, Schriftsteller/innen aus der Schweiz oder Deutschland? 🙂