Cartoon Sprained Ankle

Book 2 of the Rainbow Sisters Series Ophira Laurier is the second-born of the infamous Seven Sisters—a gold-medalist athlete, a quiet protector, and the steady force in a house that never stops moving. She's used to bruises and broken nails, to carrying weight without complaint. But no one warned her that love could ache worse than any sprain. Her secret? Ozaire Elrod. Captain of the boys' team. Sharp, composed, and maddeningly kind. He's the boy she’s been silently rooting for—heart skipping, eyes lingering, always from a distance. The crush she carried like a secret? Turns heavy, sharp-edged. Because she loved him quietly. And he doubted her loudly. Now, Ophira has to face what hurts more: the betrayal of strangers—or the silence of the one boy she never wanted to stop believing in. This isn’t just about a camera. Or revenge. It’s about heartbreak. Power. And a girl choosing herself first.

I used to think obsessive male leads were kind of hot. You know, the intense stares, the undying devotion, the way they’d burn the world for the woman they love? Swoon, right? Wrong. That fantasy went up in smoke the moment I woke up in the body of Sonia Mitford. The heroine of The Crimson Devotion. The first obsessive romance fantasy novel I ever read. The one that ended on a mysterious hiatus. The one with Marius Wittelsbach, a charming, possessive psychopath who thinks an ankle shackle is a love language. Now I’m trapped in a velvet-draped prison, shackled to a bedpost like some porcelain doll in a gothic fairytale. And Marius? He’s worse than I remembered. Sweet, soft-spoken, and utterly unhinged. "You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you." Translation: I’ll murder anyone who blinks in your direction and serve you tea over their corpse. "Anyone who bothers you... anyone who looks at you the wrong way... I’ll get rid of them for you." I thought I was playing the role just fine. Smiling. Nodding. Pretending not to be horrified. But then, plot twist. Alessio Slovene, the forgettable side character, walks in looking like a golden retriever knight and drops this bomb: he’s actually the crown prince in disguise. And he’s been investigating Marius. Finally, a lifeline. Maybe. Because people are vanishing. The body count is rising. And every time Marius kisses my forehead and calls me “Nia,” I feel one step closer to becoming the tragic heroine in a blood-soaked love story. Obsessive male leads aren’t dreamy. They’re terrifying. And I might be in way over my head.

[Warning: Mature Content R18+] “Fuck, you’re not what I expected.” The words cut clean through my mind, link, sudden, and unmistakable, and I froze. The man standing before me was more than wreckage washed ashore. Caelan was the outcast, born a Witch-Fae, and they termed him the wild one. Born of both courts and claimed by neither, he was a creature of untamed magic and impossible legend. And now, he stood before me at the edge of the Pearl Castle, salt water curling around his ankles, cloak clinging to his frame like shadows and silk. “Up close, you’re even more handsome, Morkai,” he said aloud, voice rough but laced with a mocking edge, and he grinned like someone who’d just won a very long game. My pulse kicked hard beneath my ribs and realized that I’d known him before this moment. Not his face, not his form but his voice and his presence. That voice had pierced my thoughts through the link days ago, waking something I thought long dead. “You’re Caelen,” I said quietly, reverently. He winked and stepped closer, unconcerned by the power thrumming between us. “Didn’t think you’d recognize me so fast, your Majesty.” “Your voice is imprinted in my mind,” I replied, the truth spilling out before I could stop it. Caelen tilted his head slightly, the wet strands of his dark hair catching in the breeze. His green eyes, bright and impossibly deep, caught mine and held them. “Then I suppose meeting you here was inevitable,” he said, softer now. I stepped forward. I heard the way his breath hitched, and I knew then he was as affected by me as I was by him. “You are truly a sight to behold. Is this magic or witchery?” I murmured, and a flicker passed through his expression, like he’d been waiting for those words. “Oh,” he said, voice dipping low as he moved closer, close enough for our magic to stir the air between us, and he raised his chin, stared up into my eyes, and spoke with quiet fire, “What about you, your Majesty?” He paused. “You’re not just handsome, you're the kind of beautiful that unsettles every part of my body, since the first time I set my eyes on you." My breath caught, and for the first time in a century, the sea went silent around me. *************************************************************************************** Beneath the waves, destiny awakens. On the shore, something ancient stirs. Morkai Vaelan, the Abyssal Sovereign, was once a prince, now a legend, drowned in time. Bound to the sea by a forgotten curse, he reigns in solitude from his spectral Pearl Castle, feared by sailors and forsaken by the gods. His heart, like the ocean, hides storms no one dares to weather. Caelen Thorne is a Witch-Fae with no home to call his own. Too wild for witches and too human for Fae, he is haunted by a prophecy that marks him as both a harbinger and a key. His magic is dangerous. His past, a mystery. And his future? Drenched in blood and saltwater. When a rupture in the ocean's heart threatens to destroy both land and sea, Morkai and Caelen are bound by a force older than time and drawn into a love that defies every law of gods and men. But as desire deepens and secrets surface, they must face the greatest danger of all: each other. Dark, romantic, and sweeping as the tide, The Drowned Prince and the Outcast is a tale of ancient magic, forbidden love, and the storm that comes when two broken souls refuse to let go.

A cold, reserved doctor with no time for emotions. A lively, fearless officer who believes in chasing what he wants. When their worlds collide in a late-night hospital room, it’s more than just a sprained wrist that needs healing. "What happens when the spring and winter meet face to face?"

At just 21, Doleia has it all—heiress to a business empire, beloved granddaughter of a powerful dynasty, and a piano prodigy celebrated by high society. Her life is a glittering fairytale… until the music stops. During her lavish coming-of-age concert, chaos erupts. Screams. Blood. The undead flooded the hall. Doleia watches in horror as her perfect world is torning apart—and her father, the man who once gave her everything, turns into a monster hungry for her flesh. Just as she faces certain death, she woke up… in her bed, three months before the apocalypse. Her ankle still aches. The terror is too vivid. She was sure it wasn’t just a nightmare. Now armed with knowledge of the end, Doleia must transform from the pampered princess to a ruthless survivor. The countdown to doomsday has begun.

Love is "Growing Together". Love is "Realizing that a flaw makes each other perfect." Love has countless definitions. Reveal the defi…. PROLOGUE The story takes place in the beautiful Indian cEKANSHity of Dehradun. It is the twisted romance of BHAIRAVI (aka AARNA). The novel explores college life! Here, Bhairavi changed her name to hide her identity. Her code name is Aarna. Why? Let's take a look together. The story will be told from the point of view of both main actors. Sometimes also the author's point of view. You will be informed about the POV at the beginning of each chapter. As I am busy with my college and studies, parts will be published every alternate day including Sunday. [The characters and plot are only the author's imagination. No one is harmed in the real world.] PROLOGUE: (flash of what happens later in the story, it changes fate all) Author's POV: She walked quietly through the dark corridor of the college. She didn't want to leave. She loved the city. She loved the people who live here. She loved the air and everything! Since the electricity had been cut off, it was completely dark. It also thundered. She could hear her ankles jingling as she moved. She wore a floral print skirt and a flat crop top, leaving her dark brown hair down to her upper waist. She was forcefully heading to the administrative office to collect her TC. A tear welled up in her eye because no she wanted to go back to her past life. She hated it. And after coming to this city, she hated it even more. She walked slowly and wiped her tears with her left hand. “BHAIRAVI!!”, someone called from behind. She stood motionless as thoughts clouded her mind. No. No one can know who I am. I don't want them to know my real name. That will make it harder for me.. She turned with an absent mind. Like her she answered the name, the person in front of her having just been confirmed in her true identity. Her eyes were full of tears, so she couldn't see the person clearly. She focused the torchlight on him. Ekansh. who else would it be? He stared at her. He had no idea of ​​her pain. She had always been a mystery to him. And he loved mysteries. So he wanted to solve it. He never gives up until he finds his roots. And he managed to find the roots of this mystery. “Bhairavi,” he said calmly, this time slowly pacing back and forth towards her. "How do you know my real name?" she asked as her heart rate rose. He was standing very close to her. His face tilted parallel to hers. The gap was less than a few centimeters. She shivered as her eyes caught his. He grabbed her waist with his left hand to erase the remaining gap. She was breathing hard because she was tired from crying. And now his actions made her knees buckle. “I love you Bhairavi,” he said, stroking her cheek with his right thumb. She didn't know how to answer. She didn't want one more thing to be added to the list she had to leave behind. When she didn't answer, he realized she was in pain. Now he could only see her tears flowing faster. He lowered his face slightly to capture her lips. Sometimes falling in love is the easiest thing. How far would you go to save it?

The cut was deep. It ran from the sole of her feet to her ankle. Fresh blood trikled down from her foot. How long was it until she reached another village. The forest was covered in snow and the frost Had started bite her skin. Amelein heaved for air as she had been in the forest for the past hour. Save for the hoooting of an owl and a wild cat that had meowed some minutes ago, she was practically alone. But the wind brought a faint sound to her ear... footsteps. They were faint but she could hear it and now she knew she had company. And she was sure it was not good company. She was at a disadvantage because her foot was injured. The only thing that her subconscious told her was one word. 'run' But her strength was failing her. She prayed enearstly for som sort of escape. What if it was a vampire! Or worst a black witch.!!!! She tried to steady her breath while hiding behind one of the trees. It had large branches which was enough to cover her. She bent over and sat on the forest floors while steadying herself on her good foot. She left the other foot to rest straight while stretching it to avoid the injured side. ***** Dante walked through the forest while watching out for signs of black witches. No normal man would walk into this part of the forest. It was called the heart of the forest for a reason. Even though it was quiet. The eery silence and the fog that rose to the length of his knees and circled the entire forest. It was said to start at the stroke of midnight,some said the were spirits of the deceased the were wandering about since they refused to pass through the gates of eternal rest. Hell or heaven? Who cared anyways. He was there because of the council man who said he had heard of the black witch who had been creating a potion turn humans into a docile state and she had planned an attack on an entire human village but he was sure the attack had already taken place because , it was meant to take place that night. He wasn't a saint to come here to save the city... Of course not . There were people in the department and they were too lazy to do their jobs. Just when he was about to kick the wooden door he found deep in the heart of the forest that looked like a small old box house. It was so small that he doubted if it was up to quarter the size of his room. Suddenly he smelt something in the air, it it was very potent. It was blood. His fangs grew and began to crave blood. He struggled to control his thirst and it seemed really bad at the moment. It enveloped his senses which made him momentarily forget his mission to trace the source of the blood. This wasn't human blood but then what race was this? He began walking until he got to a thicket of trees where so many trees clustered together there by forming an umbrella. He held up his short revolver gun and held it up with both hands while using his ears as extra set of equipment used to pick up any odd sounds. Just as he was about to take a step forward he a spike in a heart beat but it was beating at a slow beat which was odd. He used his nostrils to concentrate but the sound and the smell where coming from the same place. Then he sighted a dress and soon he could make out a silhouette of a woman in a seated position. but what was a human female doing in this part of the forest. But she didn't look like a witch. While still in thought he heard the woman scream so loudly, letting out a shrill cry. That was when he noticed the presence of a vampire with but it was a low level vampire with bright red eyes but his fangs were longer than normal. A deranged vampire. His nails grew out long and harshly grabbed the woman while piercing his nails into her skin causing blood to ooze out of the injured hands. Dante seeing this quickly aimed for the head of the corrupted vampire making the later fall limb on the ground after releasing the woman. But instead of one rather two bodies fell to the ground, one following the other.

High school youth love themselves their media. Fantasy books, anime cartoons, even online content. However, when four young teens end up being transported to another world similar to that of their precious media, they must reestablish themselves and adapt to their new fantasy surroundings or die trying.

Spring It was Shrove Tuesday. Nebel had just entered the corso, already at dark, and as she unpacked a bundle of streamers, she looked at the carriage ahead. Missed from a face she hadn't seen the afternoon Previously, he asked his companions: -Who is it? She doesn't look ugly. -A demon! She is gorgeous. She think she is the niece, or something like that, of the doctor Arrizabalaga. She arrived yesterday, it seems to me ... Nébel then fixed her eyes intently on the beautiful creature. She was a still a very young girl, perhaps no more than fourteen, but completely nubile. She had, under her very dark hair, a face of supreme whiteness, of that matt white and satin that is the exclusive patrimony of very fine. Long blue eyes, losing towards the temples in the circle of his black lashes of hers. Maybe a little apart, what gives, under a forehead smooth, air of great nobility or great stubbornness. But her eyes, like this, they filled that blooming countenance with the light of her beauty. And feeling them Nebel stopped a moment in his, he was dazzled. “What a charm!” He murmured, standing still with one knee over the man. Surrey cushion. A moment later the streamers were flying towards victory. Both carriages were already linked by the bridge hanging of ribbons, and the one who caused it smiled from time to time at the gallant boy. But that already came to the lack of respect for people, coachman and even carriage: over the shoulder, head, whip, fender, streamers they rained incessantly. So much so that the two people sitting in the back They returned and, rather than smiling, examined the spender carefully. “Who are they?” Asked Nebel in a low voice. —Dr. Arrizabalaga; true that you do not know. The other is the mother of your girl ... She's the doctor's sister-in-law. As if in pursuit of the exam, Arrizabalaga and the lady smiled at each other frankly before that exuberance of youth, Nébel believed in the duty to greet them, to which the triplet responded with jovial condescension. This was the beginning of an idyll that lasted three months, and to which Nébel contributed how much adoration there was in her passionate adolescence. While She continued the privateering, and in Concordia it lasts until incredible hours, Nebel incessantly stretched his arm forward, so well that the The cuff of his shirt, detached, danced over his hand. The next day the scene was replayed; and how this time the corso was resumed at night with a battle of flowers, Nébel exhausted in a quarter of hour four huge baskets. Arrizabalaga and the lady laughed, turning often, and the young woman hardly took her eyes off Nebel. East he cast a desperate look at his empty baskets; more about him Surrey cushion there was still one left, a poor bouquet of evergreens and jasmine of the country. Nebel jumped with him over the surrey wheel, he nearly dislocated an ankle, and running to victory, panting, drenched in sweat and excitement on the surface, he handed the bouquet to the young woman. She searched recklessly another, but she didn't have it. Her companions laugh. "But crazy!" Her mother told him, pointing to her chest, "there you have one!" The carriage started at a trot. Nebel, who had come down from the stirrup, afflicted, he ran and reached for the bouquet the young woman held out to him, her body almost out of the car. Nébel had arrived three days ago from Buenos Aires, where he was finishing his baccalaureate. He had been there for seven years, so his Knowledge of the current society of Concordia was minimal. He should stay still fifteen days in his hometown, enjoyed peacefully of soul, if not of body; and lo and behold, from the second day he lost all the serenity of him.

When 18-year-old Han Mirae wakes up in a cold, sterile audition hall with a glowing red bracelet fused to her wrist, she realizes this is no ordinary chance at fame—it’s a supernatural ultimatum. > [Mission: Debut as a Top Idol. Deadline: 90 Days. Failure = Termination.] In a world where dreams are currency and survival is entertainment, Mirae is thrust into a ruthless idol competition filled with backstabbing trainees, cutthroat mentors, and relentless public scrutiny. With no agency backing, a crippling ankle injury, and a mysterious system guiding her every move, Mirae must claw her way up from rock bottom. But she’s not alone. Some bracelets glow on others too. Hidden "players" with the same deadly mission lurk among the hopefuls. Alliances are fragile. Friendships are tools. And failure isn’t just a broken dream—it’s game over. From the brutal audition rounds to the harrowing training camp, Mirae must push past her limits, inspire a broken team, and become more than just a survivor—she must become unforgettable. Will she rise and debut… or die trying? ---

Ethan's head throbbed violently as he opened his eyes, his vision hazy and unfocused. A dull ringing filled his ears, drowning out his thoughts. "What’s happening…?" he thought, his mind sluggish, struggling to catch up with reality. One moment, he was asleep—or at least, he thought he was—and the next, searing pain forced him awake. His vision swam, shapes blurring together in a disorienting mess. But then, muffled noises filtered through the haze—frantic, panicked sounds. Someone was trying to scream, their voice smothered, choked by something. A cold shiver ran down his spine. As his sight gradually sharpened, Ethan's breath hitched. He was on all fours, looming over someone. A girl. Her body twisted and writhed beneath him, ropes biting into her wrists and ankles. Her mouth was gagged, muffling her cries. Her wide brown eyes, brimming with fear and fury, glared up at him. Ethan's body locked in place, his blood running cold. "What the…?" His mind reeled, thoughts slamming into each other in chaotic disarray. "What kind of bizarre dream is this?" Panic clawed at his chest. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as he scrambled backward, only to realize his limbs felt sluggish, uncooperative, like they didn’t belong to him. "Is this… is this some kind of twisted fantasy I never knew I had?" A sickening thought slithered through his mind, making his stomach churn. The girl's frantic squirming slowed for a moment, her gaze flickering with confusion as she took in his expression—his trembling hands, his wide, horrified eyes. But the fear returned just as quickly. She struggled harder, her body arching, her muffled screams rising in pitch. Ethan wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but before he could force out a word, a glowing blue window materialized before his eyes. His breath caught. A translucent, hovering screen? "What…?" Lines of glowing text scrolled across its surface. --- [System Activated…] [Host Confirmed.] [Simulating Previous Data…] Ethan awakens in a mysterious world, shackled by a curse that clouds his judgment and drives him toward choices he never wished to make. Burdened by guilt and responsibility, he must navigate the fallout of his actions while unraveling the truth behind the curse—and his place in this enigmatic new reality.

"They buried me with roses. Red, like the betrayal in their hearts" The sky was grey, the morning they laid me to rest. Not stormy, not gentle, just blank, like the eyes of the people who came to weep. They cried. My mother's veil soaked in fake tears. My father face tight, as though forcing himself to mourn. And Albert, my dear Albert. Stood tall beside my cousin, her hands around his arm. I watched them from the oak tree, unseen. My fingers trembling, body cold, heart burning. The coffin was shut, but I knew what was inside. My face, my hair, . My pale hands folded neatly like I had died with grace. But I haven't. I bleed on cold ground, screamed, I fell. And no one tried to save me . That morning I had woken up in someone else's body. A maid's body. Thin wrists, bruised ankles, calloused palms. The scent of ash and soap clung to me. I looked into the mirror and saw her face , not mine. Her lips, her eyes, her sadness. Her name was Margaret. They didn't notice. Not my mother, not the maids I grew up with, not even Albert. I moved through the halls like a ghost, cleaning floors I used to walk in silk. Serving wine to the very people who buried me. And no one knew. But I know. Someone killed me, and someone let me die. They think the dead can't speak. That once the dirt is thrown and the prayers are said, we're gone. They're wrong. I'm still here, watching, and I'll remember everything.

The monsoon season of Nanyang carried a humid sensuality as Liao Qiao pushed open the hotel’s carved wooden doors, only to overhear Shang Lu’s mocking sneer: “Are you following me? Still not over me?” A sharp reprimand cut through the drama. “Show some respect to your sister-in-law!” The shadow of a black shirt swept over Liao Qiao’s shoulder. Shang Yu exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze dropping to the crumpled figure on the floor. “Take him to the Dark Hall,” he ordered, his voice like glacial steel. Liao Qiao studied the man’s chiseled profile. This was Shang Yu, the ruthless tycoon of Nanyang. He stood at the rain-soaked veranda, cigarette smoke curling around him, the faint scent of snow pine lingering in the air—a blade sheathed in elegance. Their next meeting unfolded in the underground lounge of a nightclub. Liao Qiao sipped a Mojito, watching Shang Yu stub out his cigar with a snap. “Mr. Yan requests your presence.” Before the bodyguard could finish, she sauntered into the private room. Under crystal chandeliers, Shang Lu retched into a toilet bowl while Shang Yu tapped his fingers on the marble table. “Explain the annulment yourself.” Before the words echoed, Liao Qiao leaned against the doorframe, spinning a car key between her fingers. “I heard Mr. Shang owns a Maybach. Care to lend it for a spin?” On the manicured lawns of Nan Yang Manor, Shang Yu knelt to tend to a cut on her ankle. Liao Qiao traced the mole near his eye, laughter bubbling. “So anxious, Mr. Shang? Could it be…” His hands yanked her into an embrace, his palm pressing against her wounded back. “If it hurts, bite me.” The night Shang Lu’s yacht exploded, Liao Qiao stood by the manor’s floor-to-ceiling windows, watching Shang Yu’s silhouette rigid against the lightning-flashed horizon. Thunder cracked. For the first time, she understood why her father called her “Nanyang’s curse”—she had a knack for shattering and reshaping the trajectories of those around her without rhyme or reason. When Shang Yu returned from Palma, he pressed a platinum card into her palm. “Want to see where you were born?” Liao Qiao traced the intricate engravings, finally deciphering the truth in her father’s indulgent eyes—she was never just a heiress. She was the wildfire he’d always kept burning in his palm.

It wasn't on purpose. When Maria stole a peculiar book from one of her classmates, she thought nothing of it since her classmate didn't seem too fond of reading; Maria thought she could get away with it, however, she never expected the book to hold such secrets. Working as a barista in the city of Quezon, Maria discovers that not only was the book she had once read predicting the end of the world, but her old pocket watch was the key to figuring out its secrets. Before she knew it, chaos started to unfold, claiming the lives of thousands as deadly games began to appear all over the world, forcing humans to become players to survive. Maria never imagined that an old book series could lead to such catastrophes. Can a book with hundreds of pages stacked together— really be the sole reason for the end of humanity? Left with no other choice, Maria uses her knowledge from the books to navigate through the looming perils before her. With the desire to meet the beings that heralded the world's end and uncover the mysteries shrouding her books, Maria strove to survive and adapt to her new reality, even if it meant being tangled between life and death. In a world brimming with tales, akin to the multitude of stars gleaming in the nocturnal skies or the depths of the vast ocean yet to be explored, the story of searching for one's ending begins... * * * TL;DR: What to expect: -Slow Paced Story -Character Development  -A Fantasy, Post-Apocalyptic World -Mysteries! -Diverse Characters  -Family Conflict and Comradeship  -Sub-Plot Romance between Two Women -3.4k-3.8k Word Count per Chapter -Mistakes in grammar or prose since English is not my Native Language What NOT to expect: -Overpowered MC -Reverse Harem -LitRPG * * * Before reading this story, please note that this story will not be a short one. This story is inspired by many unlimited-flow Chinese novels I often read, Alice in Borderland, and my childhood favorite cartoon show, Adventure Time. Although this is my first time writing a story and may be an amateur, there would also be some terrible grammar, prose, and repetition of words since English is not my native language, I still hope that some of you will be able to enjoy reading this story I created during quarantine.  This story may also be slow in terms of updating, but I'll try my best to upload frequently or find a schedule to upload the chapters. I accept any form of criticism, tips, and advice!

"we'll join forces and together we'll create a future for Catyra" Kelsier informed the others and they nodded . It was time ! To end the reign of the tryant. It was time to regain control over the dark and it's lurking. * Vin stared incredulously at the thin and scrawny girl in front of him. She is the chosen one?? He almost want to laugh at the absurdity of the thought . This tiny girl whose black hair was all tangled up and her olive skin was full of scars ,is the chosen one? How will this girl fight a whole Lord ruler? She wouldn't even be able to get past the guards . A bile rose in his throat and ugly feeling of failure clawed at him . He had failed , the whole of Catyra fate depended on him ! " You think I'm not the chosen one , ? " . She rolled her eyes and begin to walk past him . Well she didn't think so too . Defeat the Lord ruler ? Save the world? Everything sounds like some bed stories and fairytale. She walked away from the dreamchaser . Species that was said to have been extinct thousand of years ago . Everything was just weird !! She needs to get out of here , before all this balderdash gets in her head * But then he saw it ! Tiny intricate black markings on her left shoulder , on her ankle . The sign !! He hurriedly followed her . Perhaps he shouldn't have judge a book by its cover

The sun rose slowly over the ancient rooftops of the capital, casting its light not as a blessing but as a cold witness to disgrace. Along a narrow stone-paved street, a figure staggered forward, one step at a time, as if death clung to his back and urged him onward. His body was draped in rusted iron chains—a thick loop dug into the skin of his neck, others bound tightly around his wrists and ankles. Each movement sent the chains clanking, scraping against bone and flesh alike. His limbs trembled, not from fear, but from sheer exhaustion. He had long passed the point where pain mattered. His bare feet dragged over the rough stone. From the soles and up to the shins, blood seeped with every step, marking a crimson trail behind him. Torn skin, half-healed wounds, and infected gashes told stories of endless torment. His legs were failing, muscles barely clinging to his bones. Hunger had stripped him of all weight, all pride—his body nothing more than a husk, a starved silhouette that looked more corpse than man. Behind him marched two imperial guards. Their armor gleamed under the morning sun, spears held upright but ready. One of them jabbed the butt end into his back, forcing him forward when he slowed. "Walk," the guard hissed.

Azka, bound by his mother's rules, is tempted to break them. A friend's invitation to go to a nightclub leads him on a dangerous adventure. Alcohol flows, causing Azka to lose control. Unbeknownst to him, he spends a hot night with a strange woman. Morning arrives, his body feels broken, sore, and aching. Red marks adorn his skin, while red circles on his wrists and ankles bear witness to the wild night he just had. Dizziness and confusion overwhelm him. He tries to remember what happened, but only vague fragments come to mind. Regret and fear begin to gnaw at his heart. "Why did I end up like this?" he thinks. His mother's orders not to drink alcohol and go to nightclubs ring in his ears. Guilt engulfs him, imagining the consequences he will face. "I told you, Azka! Don't wander around at night, especially to nightclubs and drink alcohol!" his mother shouts in frustration. "Your alcohol tolerance is low, Azka! You can't drink alcohol!"

Hi , those who love cartoons and animations, read this. In each chapter , I bet , you will laugh . comment your favourite cartoon .so that, I can join them in this book.

He died the way he lived—loud, reckless, and with both middle fingers raised. A man of chaos with a fist for every problem, he left behind a trail of broken bones (mostly not his own) and unanswered questions, the last one being: "What happens if I punch a truck?" Answer: reincarnation. Welcomed by a smug, divine beauty who calls herself the Goddess of Realms, he's offered a single choice—to be reborn as anything in a fantastical new world. No hesitation. No subtlety. “Make me the most powerful being alive,” he demands. She smiles. Not kindly. Darkness. Silence. Then light—grass beneath him, wind brushing over fur. Fur? He stands, wobbling on tiny limbs. The ground feels taller. The trees feel... enormous. Confused, he stumbles to the edge of a clear river and peers in. Not a dragon. Not a warlock. Not a dark overlord wreathed in flame and fear. Just a round, fuzzy creature with eyes too big for its face, fluffy ears, and a body resembling a marshmallow. He blinks once. Twice. Then the scream echoes through the valley. --- Don't be fooled by this guy's appeal. He will bite your ankles.

My name is Jun'ichirō Yamamoto, everyone calls me Jun or Yamamoto. I've been in this world for the past ten years, that's right I got reincarnated in this strange world where there are superpowered individuals who are known as Pro Heroes and Villains. This superpower is manifested in 80% of humans in the world. To cultivate future Pro Heroes there's even a school to teach them about this stuff. I am also a quirk bearer in this world, and my quirk is a transformation type quirk. But the thing is I know pretty well what this transformation is, it's an alien from a cartoon series I watched dearly. That's right, my quirk can turn me into an alien from the Ben 10 cartoon, specifically, I can turn into the Upgrade alien. It's cool actually, if I wish to turn partially too, I don't have to turn fully into an Upgrade to use all the powers, partial transformation can exert the same powers when I'm fully turned into the Upgrade form. Now, I have parents in this world, and they work in the hero agency of the No. 1 Hero All Might, that guy is like this worlds Superman. From what I've seen he can't fly, can't shoot heat rays from his eye's etc.. but, he do have super strength, super speed, super endurance and many of the basic things Superman have.Anyway, about my parents, my dad's name is Tatsuya Yamamoto and mom's name is Miyuki Yamamoto. Both of them have quirks, dad's quirk is minor electric manipulation and mum's quirk is minor light manipulation. Well, the doctor did say that I've the combined quirk if both of them, hence the Upgrade transformation. As for the transformation part, it's from my grandfather as he had a transformation quirk that can turn into a slime man. Then there's my reincarnation part, honestly I don't remember how I got here, but I do remember the previous life. There I was an average college student and read comics like Marvel and DC, played game's and most importantly watched cartoons and ate as much as I could. In that life I was an orphan, so my current parents are a blessing to me. Even though I was an orphan I did some part time job to get a steady income so that I could study. And I don't know how I died either, it must be because of the reincarnation stuff. Anyway, right now I'm on my way to attend the entrance exam to one of the prestigious hero schools in Japan, U.A High School. All I know is that this school has hosted All Might, Endeavor, Best Jeanist and many other top Pro Heroes as their students. Other than that, what happens in the U.A is pretty much barbaric in my opinion, as every year they pit the students against each other on live TV. I don't know how much of an idiot the guy running the school is, but it just shows the Villains that who will be the strong one in the coming generation. After considering all of this I've thought about not going to this school, but my mum had already registered me for the entrance exam so I just thought 'Why not? I just don't have to be in the spotlight until I graduate from this school. So, like that I'm here now, to attend the entrance exam of U.A High School. : ::::::::::-Chapter 1 End-:::::::::: ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Author :: Themasterblaster :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::Right now I'm at the entrance of the UA exam center, mom and dad dropped me here and wished me luck, "Well here goes nothing." On the way to the orientation hall I saw a blonde haired kid pushing aside a green haired kid, and a girl coming in to save him right when he was about to fall to the ground face first. 'Lucky' I thought, shaking my head, I went inside the Hall for the orientation. After five minutes the lights were dimmed and Present Mic started the presentation on the exam. While that was going on I looked at my battle center and found out I'm in center D. Suddenly Present Mic stopped talking, so I looked up to see what's happening and saw that some kid standing there and asking about the fourth picture that was given

A cynical, overworked salaryman dies in a freak accident—only to be reincarnated in the body of Shinnosuke Nohara, the infamous troublemaker from Crayon Shin-chan. But this time, things are different. Armed with his adult memories and a growing awareness that the world is more than a slapstick cartoon, he begins to unravel a reality-bending truth: this world is a simulation… and he’s not the only one reincarnated here. A dark, psychological, and existential twist on a beloved character, this story combines humor, mystery, and action as the reincarnated Shinchan tries to uncover why he was brought into this world—and how much control he truly has.

In a world dominated by demonic tyrants and blood-soaked hierarchies, hope flickers only in whispers—whispers of hunters, humans born with ancient sigils etched into their ankles, destined to awaken forbidden powers. Arthur, a teenage boy driven by the loss of his mother, discovers his bloodline bears a unique sigil—a mark tied to the downfall of the strongest demon in history. But unlike others, Arthur’s sigil is incomplete. To unlock its full strength, he must collect the scattered remnants of the demon’s essence, each sealed in cursed vessels across the war-torn lands. With the help of Rina, a loyal hunter unaware of his lineage, Arthur sets off on a harrowing path of sacrifice, blood, and self-discovery. The closer he gets to the truth, the more the line between salvation and damnation blurs. Will he become the savior of mankind—or the harbinger of its end? The hunt begins. The sigil burns. And fate bleeds.

BLURB: For refusing to go ahead with a marriage proposal he made between her and a ruthless monster, Robert Wilson disowned his daughter Judith Wilson, stripping her off her birth rights, but what happens when Judy returns to reclaim what is rightfully hers,this time with a stronger back up. What kind of father would impose such fear on his daughter? Judy crouched shivering behind a tree in the woods, cold not just from her damp dress but also from the dread of her chasers. Blood leaked from an ankle wound she had obtained during escape. Her breathing became rapid, damp hair clung to her forehead, mixing tears with the rain. The noise of approaching footsteps was interrupted by gunfire. Gripping her chest, she closed her eyes firmly, stifling her cries as additional tears streamed down. An irate male voice yelled, “I said no shooting; we need her ali…” Before he could complete his sentence, additional gunfire broke out, resulting in three of his men dead on the ground. Understanding the threat, he pulled out his firearm, terror clear on his expression, his eyes widened when he sited his predator —it was the beast himself. Judy's heart pounded as the turmoil subsided, yet she continued to worry about how many wished for her demise. New sounds of footsteps drew closer, heightening her anxiety and forcing her to conceal herself further against the tree. In the shadows, she couldn't see but perceived the figure halt beside her. Her voice quivering, she faltered, urgently begging, “Pleeasss…don't… I...will…” Her terror only enraged him further, he was the only one permitted to make her feel this way. “Rabbit,” he whispered gently, and Judy's eyes grew wide with astonishment, skepticism, and—most importantly —relief.

Xie Zhaozhao transmigrated into a Mary Sue historical romance novel titled “The Ice-Cold Prince Only Turns Back for Her Smile,” becoming a minor background character so unimportant, her face wasn’t even clearly described. Right at the beginning, she got bound to a broken-down system that cheerily shouted the moment it came online: “Dear Host! Your mission is: raise the male lead’s affection to 99 points and successfully marry into the prince’s manor to unlock your hidden life side quest! Fighting!” She actually believed it. Burned the midnight oil studying the male lead’s files, worked hard for two whole days trying to raise affection—yet the male lead didn’t spare her a single glance. “Did the male lead look at me today?” “Unable to detect effective eye contact.” “Was my smile sweet enough today?” “Male lead turned his head for 0.5 seconds. Target: the cat behind you.” “Then tomorrow I’ll change into a new outfit—” “Ding! System will now enter maintenance and upgrade mode. Estimated downtime: unknown. Host is advised not to dismantle the device.” Xie Zhaozhao: “???” Fine. Mission failed, system ran away, and before she could even die a cannon-fodder death, the whole plot collapsed first. Just as she was ready to lie flat and rot, the constables came knocking. “By imperial decree, the Xie family is found guilty of colluding with the enemy. All assets are to be confiscated!” Xie Zhaozhao froze for a second. And just like that—their entire household got cleaned out. Even the cooking pots were taken. Xie Zhaozhao: “…” So the system vanished, and the male lead’s affection score went back to zero—fine. But now she was dragging along a bunch of concubines, noble-born young ladies, her own mother, and her maid, fleeing like refugees to a half-collapsed, abandoned shack at the far edge of the village. A dozen women sharing one pot of porridge. Xie Zhaozhao stared at the few lonely grains of rice floating in the pot, lost in thought. She took a deep breath, turned to the teary-eyed women sitting at the table, and declared: “It’s alright. We still have our hands and feet!” Her mother sobbed softly, “But we don’t have land…” Xie Zhaozhao looked off into the distance. “Then we’ll rent some!” “No seeds.” “Then we’ll buy them!” “No money.” “…” Xie Zhaozhao gritted her teeth. “Then we’ll owe it first!” ** Three days later, Xie Zhaozhao was really out in the fields, hoe in hand, leading a bunch of pampered “noble ladies” to clear the land. On day one, the maid Xiaotao’s skin peeled from sunburn. On day two, her mother twisted her ankle hoeing the soil. On day three, they finally got their crops planted. On day four, every single sprout was rooted up and eaten by Old Man Wang’s pigs from the village. Xie Zhaozhao stormed off to confront Old Man Wang, only to be met with a sneer and a flick of his trouser leg: “Your family doesn’t even own a pig, and you think you can farm? Might as well plant your veggies straight into my pig’s mouth!” Xie Zhaozhao came back, pulled out their last 500 copper coins, and went straight to the market—returning with a limp little piglet. Everyone: “Miss… this pig looks crippled…” Xie Zhaozhao: “Lame or not, it’s ours! Next time someone messes with our field, our pig’s going to mess up theirs first!” She looked at the small patch of barren land in front of the dilapidated courtyard, her gaze firm: “From now on, forget the male lead. We’re going to grow the priciest cabbages in the empire and rake in silver from every noblewoman in the capital!” —Assuming, of course, the pig doesn’t wreck the field again tomorrow.

...Born into a world where you are either the predator or the prey, a young elf girl had to be exposed to the hardship of life at an early age. Fueled by rage and anger, her quest for revenge led her through a bloody path. ... Excerpt:- Luisa remained in that position for a long time, she was covered in her mother's blood as she cried nonstop. It was almost dawn, her fists clenched as she sworn to avenge her parents and clan. She stood up and wiped her tears leaving blood trails on her face. she looked towards the forest surrounding her clan and began to walk towards it, she didn't know where to go, she just walked ignoring the dangers that lurks in the forest and the outside world. *** She continued walking but deep down she felt she was being followed. When the movements became audible enough, out of fear she began running even without seeing who or what was after her. Suddenly, she fell or actually she felt herself being pushed by a supernatural force. Her eyes widened when a black smoke wrapped around her ankle like a tentacle, the spot felt cold and the creature began to drag her towards it. Luisa let out terrifying screams as she was being dragged by what she couldn't see. She tried to get the the tentacle of a thing off of her but it was useless, her hands just kept passing through the tentacle like the vapor it was. ... Hello, this is my first book on web novel, please support and motivate me.

In a world where cartoon characters are brought to life as living breathing beings called Toons, a divided super corporation fights between wanting to maintain the status quo and reshaping society. The paths of a mentally ill teenager, a mouse, and a government agent collide as election day closes in and the final stages of a grand plan near completion.

What happens when a goddess falls in love with a shifter? Asara; the goddess of love, was punished by her father, the god of thunder. Her crime being falling in love with a mortal shifter Alpha. To pay for her sins she was reborn as Cassandra LeBlanc; a mortal Princess in the magical Kingdom of Speldaria. Her family and kingdom, except her middle sister, shunned her for she was born without any magical abilities and she had no recollections of her true identity. Her betrothed, the powerful mage commander of the Speldaria, was unbothered by her. He wished for someone strong. Cassandra’s life was toppled when she was gifted a warrior slave by the mighty Alpha of Dusartine. She was asked to take part in the Yearly Arena Event by collaborating with the warrior. Cassandra who hated ‘The Arena’ with her very breath. A place where blood flowed like wine and life was cheaper than the very air they breathed didn't understand her purpose in it. On top of that, the mysterious warrior affected her in unimaginable ways. His hypnotic gaze unsettled her. His rare essence overwhelmed her. His muscular bronzed body consumed her with sinful thoughts. Even the dreams of her past life plagued her. When ‘The Arena' began the hidden agendas and underlying truths came to light and Cassandra was played a hand of fate. She was left with no choice but to give in and choose a path. The question would be. How will Cassandra grapple once she learns of the curse placed on her? Will she be able to obtain her magical abilities and stand up to her father? Who will help her along the journey? ~Excerpt~ Then she felt him, all of him. All his ruggedness. The strength of his arm. The softness of his lips. The grip of his hand. The warmth of his breath. Every muscle in her body went taut at the implications of sleeping in a man’s arms. She had never slept in a male’s embrace before. Her whole skin tingled like tiny sparks dancing on the very parts that connected with him. The crevices of her brain had these memories which weren't hers. This touch somehow didn't seem foreign to her. She felt safe in his soothing embrace and didn't wish to push him away and yet she knew this was far from appropriate. Cassandra tried to wriggle out of his hold, his arms seemed to be built from iron for they wouldn't budge. The light garment she had worn had lifted from her milky thigh baring it as his bronzed muscular one was draped on it. And now she could sense something poking her back. Her eyes suddenly expanded from the realisation and Cassandra fully panicked. “Let go!” She voiced out, heavily. Siroos slowly lifted his leg and slackened his hold on her waist so she could shuffle away. He had awakened when she had stiffened for the first time but wished to behold what she would try. With eyes blown wide she stole a glance towards the man who had her wrapped in his embrace like a precious treasure, his treasure. His molten gold eyes had flickered open and there was this softness and want with which he stared at her. Those soft brown curls cascaded over his eyes as he forgot to blink, watching the timeless beauty that she was. Her one-of-a-kind fragrance was a torture to his senses. How he wished to grab her dainty ankle, pull her from it and have her sprawled underneath him. To kiss the very skin that oozed such scent which was driving him insane. Instead, he bent his arm and placed it under his cheek using it like a pillow to watch her with desire-filled eyes. The awkward lull between them prolonged as Cassandra cleared her throat. “Did you have to climb on me to sleep?” “It wasn't intentional but was certainly enticing and definitely won't be the last time.” His deeply hypnotic voice was even more alluring this early in the morning as it resonated all around her. The book cover is mine.

Rose stood defiantly, eyes locked onto his golden ones as she lifted the hem of her small top, exposing the smooth expanse of her stomach before peeling the fabric over her head. The red glittering bra shimmering under moonlight as if made for this very moment. She ignored the tremor of anticipation curling in her gut. None of that mattered. Not even the reckless haze of drugs clouding her thoughts. Tonight, she was in control. This was a mission. A mission to keep his attention solely on her so could save her friend from his curse. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, her breath steadying when she saw him go rigid. Shoulders squared. Posture tensed. Not in fear. Not in disgust. But in something far sinister. His Interest. “Yes… feast your depraved little eyes and filthy mind on this,” she whispered, smirking as the shorts fell away, pooling at her ankles. The silky red thong clung to her hips, the moonlight accentuating every curve of her body. She flicked the discarded clothing aside, shifting her weight slightly as she let her nightly visitor drink in the sight of her naked glory. His posture no longer that of boredom. Good. That was exactly what she wanted. More like, what intoxicated, irrational Rose wanted. She twirled, giving him a deliberate view, rolling her hips just enough to torment. “Since you’ve made my life a living hell, I might as well return the favor.” She cast a wicked smile over her shoulder. “Consider this my gift to you—one you’ll never get to touch.” By the time she turned back, her stomach plummeted. He had moved. No longer a distant silhouette in the meadow—he now stood at the edge of her patio. Much closer and so much real. The thrill that had fueled her was fading slowly. Had she just made a mistake playing this game with her stalker? Swallowing hard, she lowered herself onto the chair, parting her bare legs wide and letting the wooden cross dangle before her barely covered cherry, in a taunt. A silent challenge. His fingers curled around the wooden rail, veins standing taut against the black ink of his tattoos. His chest rose and fell, controlled but heavier, as though restraining something barely contained beneath his skin. "Want a taste, my dear stalker?" Rose whispers She had him pinned. Or so she thought. Her shadowy visitor moves. Slow, deliberate steps leading closer. Panic slammed into her. No. Rose bolted upright, pressing the cross against the glass door separating them. “Stay back!” Her voice wavered a bit. “I swear, I’ll burn your stalking ass right where you stand!” He stilled. A beat of silence. Then— A low, quiet chuckle rumbled through the night air, reaching her ears like smoke. Deep and Dark. Her stomach twisted. The sound was foreign, yet eerily familiar. As if she had always known this was how he would sound. His hands rose in mock surrender, his hooded head tilting slightly, as if entertained by her little performance. Then, as effortlessly as he had closed the distance, he stepped back. Rose’s breath fastened. She was playing with fire, willingly, by provoking the one who comes out at night and remain in shadows. And he was enjoying it.   == In the embrace of her ancestral town, Rose seeks refuge from the echoes of her past. Little does she know, her return to her roots will awaken dormant shadows, shattering ordinary her existence. For when the darkness falls over the town, from the pitch black rises a shadowy figure that haunt her nights. In the darkness he sweeps her off the ground in terrible fear and the allure of sinister intrigue. And once the sun comes, a man with a god awful attitude, haunts her in the broad day light. Causing her to swell with pure disdain. With each passing night, it draws closer to Rose, casting a chilling spell that both terrifies and exhilarates her. Thrust into a labyrinth of mysteries can she navigate the treacherous path laid before her, or will her nightly visitor consume her whole?

kosalan is a fan of anime and cartoons,want to be in one such world and God gives him that wish but here he don't transmigrate.world changes to his wish

A Few Warnings for the Reader: This short novel is written for people who appreciate Japanese anime – a worldwide community numbering in the hundreds of millions. It's important to understand from the start that anime is not just "children's cartoons," as animation is often perceived in places like Europe and the USA. Anime represents a distinct form of animation and a significant cultural force, almost like "super-cinema." It can be incredibly dynamic and explore serious themes. Now, let's be honest, a large portion of anime is… not great. Maybe around 90% could be considered simply "okay" or even, let's say, "trashy." It can be blatant, silly, and not particularly engaging. Many viewers watch one of these less impressive shows and then assume all anime is similar. But that's a mistake! Understand this: by doing that, you're missing out on potentially the most captivating entertainment of your life. That's not an exaggeration – it's a genuine perspective. But the remaining 10%? That's where the true "super-cinema" lies. Good anime is unmatched in its ability to tell emotionally resonant stories and deliver dynamic action. Anime creators are free to push boundaries. Their imaginations delve into the complexities of the human heart, challenging the common "European view" that restricts animation to children. This story(it's not a Fanfiction!) is a tribute to a classic anime called "Fate." Fate is not my personal absolute favorite – there are masterpieces which incredibly hard to surpass. But still, it's a powerful example of the story started as a simple eroge and converted to a deeply emotional cult film.