Writing Block

After being forced to give my wife's first love my heart, I died in the hallway of the private hospital she had personally founded. My six-year-old son, Ash, had already begged her thrice by the time I had drawn my last breath. The first time was when he tugged on her hand, saying I was coughing up blood. Sneering, she claimed, "So he's finally learned something—teaching his kid how to lie." Then, she had the bodyguards throw him out of the room. The second time was when he clung to her sleeve, insisting that I rambled nonsense due to the pain. "It's just a heart transplant," she opined with a frown. "The doctor already said he won't die." At that, the bodyguards stepped in again and dragged him away. The third time was when he fell to the ground, clutching her pant leg with all his strength, crying that I had already passed out. She finally lost her temper by this point, grabbing Ash by the throat and hurling him out of the room. "I have already said it—Howard isn't going to die. Dare to disturb Skye's rest again, and I'll throw both of you out of this hospital," she warned. To save me, my son pawned the most precious thing he owned—his St. Christopher medal—to a nurse. "Ma'am," he said. "I don't need to live a long life. I just want my dad to live." She accepted the medal and was about to arrange for me to be transferred to the last available room. However, my wife's first love, Skye Whitley, had someone block the doorway with his pet dog. He mentioned, "Sorry, kid. Your mom's worried I'll get bored if I can't see my dog. This room is reserved for him."

What happens when a billionaire CEO goes to college? Faith is about to find out. Utterly and completely broke, Faith is forced to work three different jobs to support herself through college. Unlike her counterparts, Faith failed to get the good fortune of being born into a rich family. God's attempt to make it up to her must have been giving her a super sharp brain which is the only reason why she could attend the prestigious Barbell University on a half scholarship. But, with the remaining half of her tuition going into $35,000, Faith is forced to slave away night and day at her part-time jobs while simultaneously attending classes, completing assignments, taking tests and writing exams. Faith would do anything--literally anything, to get some respite, including taking on the job of tutoring a famously arrogant, former-dropout, self-made billionaire CEO of a tech company for a tidy sum. Devlin has returned to college after five years to get the certificate he desperately needs to close an important business deal. Weighed down by memories of the past, Devlin finds himself struggling to move ahead. Can Faith teach this arrogant CEO something more than Calculus and Algebra? Will he be able to let go of the past and reach for something new?

Lyra was never supposed to be the heroine. In the novel she read in her past life, Lyra was just a placeholder—the adopted daughter of a high-society family who dropped her the second their real daughter returned. Then came the humiliation. The neglect. The death that barely registered in the plot. But this Lyra? She’s not following the script. Reincarnated into the story, Lyra remembers everything. She knows where the plot is headed—and she plans to derail it. Step one: make herself indispensable. Step two: change the fate of Ethan, the second male lead who disappeared without resolution. He was brilliant, guarded, and completely overlooked by the original heroine. Lyra—who adored him as a reader—isn’t about to let history repeat itself. She starts small: a business deal, market predictions, power moves. Somewhere in the chaos, they become something more. And when the real daughter returns, sweet on the surface and toxic underneath, Lyra proposes a marriage contract to survive. No feelings. No strings. Just strategy. But love doesn’t follow rules, and neither does fate. As alliances fracture and danger rises, Lyra must fight to stay in a story that was never meant to keep her. She won’t be discarded. She won’t be erased. This time, the side character is writing her own ending.

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On the night of my graduation party, just before my first shift, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart discovered I might awaken Alpha bloodline. She tricked me into eating a layered cake laced with silver powder. I'm extremely sensitive to silver. After eating it, my chest heaved violently, my eardrums buzzed, and I gasped desperately for air with my mouth wide open. Lynette laughed like a maniac. "There's just a tiny bit of silver powder in that cake. Are you seriously overreacting like this? Who are you putting on this show for?" I collapsed on the ground like a dying dog, begging my boyfriend. "Tyler, please take me to the hospital. I'm really going to die." My boyfriend Tyler Cross looked at me coldly. "How much silver powder could possibly be in such a small piece of cake?" "Lynette's writing her graduation thesis on how Alpha bloodlines suppress silver poisoning. She just needs a little help from you. Do you really need to fake being dead?" My breathing became more and more labored. I stopped begging him. Instead, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency message with my location to my father, the Alpha King.

Keeva, the shunned daughter of Alpha Julius, lives in despair believing she has no wolf. Her eighteenth birthday was supposed to be a day of joy but her world came crumbling down. The Moon Goddess has forsaken her. Her father can't bear to be in the same room as her. When he insisted that she takes his Beta as her chosen mate, plans to escape were snatched away, she had no choice but to follow the path laid before her. Working at the bar was the only freedom she knew, Canagan was the only man who could help her escape. After months of working with her friend Nikita and the wise woman from the forest, their well laid plans didn't come to fruition soon enough to save them both for Julius's tyranny. Channon was saved from certain death by something that could only be the lone wolf of legends. After witnessing his raw, untamed power Channon realized that White Claw could be more than just whispers and fantasy. After waking up in unknown lands and nursed back to health by a pack he didn't recognize Channon learned of his unknow lineage and the powers he is destined to wield. Over the course of the next fifteen years Channon hones his skills preparing to avenge the murder of his parents and take his place as Alpha, uniting the two packs of his ancestors. White Claw has moulded Channon into the man he needs to be. His campaign for revenge and unity hits a stumbling block in the form of his stepsister Keeva. Little Keeva was only two when Channon was almost killed and he often wondered what had happened to her. Had he not followed his Beta into the woods Channon would never have realized Keeva is his.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

Modern romance novels are a very familiar and popular genre among young people today. But coming to: Becoming the beloved wife of a tyrannical billionaire, that familiar genre has been turned into a completely new direction, from the writing style to the way the plot is built, it gives us a unique experience. Invisible charm, unique qualities, unique only in "Becoming the cruel wife of a tyrannical billionaire." The details are described meticulously, every action, gesture to the heart of the character is clearly present as if the character is standing in front of us. In terms of content, as the name suggests, the couple Violet - Ernesta are equally "evil"! Because of that, dramatic dramas, half crying and laughing were created continuously throughout the work. Violet, the second lady of the Mesia family, is talented and exceptionally arrogant, she is an excellent student of the Security Intelligence Academy. But what about excellence? Violet Mesia herself came here just to pursue the male god Kelsey – the lover in her heart. To put it another way, "evil", is to steal her husband from Fiona - Kelsey's fiancée. “Who do you think this Violet Messia is? That Fiona was destined to be robbed by this Violet Messiah!” It all started on that fateful day, the day when Violet Mesia she heard that Kelsey and Fiona's wedding took place. For someone who likes to play villains like Violet Mesia, how can she let her crush become another girl's husband so easily? So that wild female ghost immediately made a bold decision: "replace the bride".

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.