Trench Coat Meme

AN 18+ ALPHA MAFIA SERIES BOOK 1# CAPTIVE MATE BOOK 2# RUNAWAY MATE BOOK 3# DANGEROUS MATE -+- Caspian is the heir to Moonstone Pack but when his parents die, he’s cheated out of his birthright and treated like a prisoner. He decides to leave, running off to Haines City to start a new life. His plans are instantly cut short when he's kidnapped and auctioned off, and he is bought by none other than one of the Mafia Kings running the city, Asher Knight. -+- Asher shrugged his coat off, the heavy outfit falling to the ground with an audible thud. Caspian watched this happen in apprehension, Mafia King Asher had looked huge with the coat on, and with the coat off, there wasn’t much of a difference. “Come here,” He ordered calmly, the earrings in his ears visible with his dark red hair slicked back. Caspian shook his head again, he had no intention of speaking, ever. Because that would only give away his gender. “I don’t like to repeat myself, Omega.” His voice darkened. Caspian’s heart thudded painfully in his chest in fear, he really didn’t want to get anywhere near the Alpha. He eyed the window longingly before forcing himself to take a step forward, then another, and another… +- THIS IS AN 18+ MAFIA STORY SO IT WILL INCLUDE VIOLENT AND MATURE THEMES, READ WITH CAUTION.

Reencarnado como Yamcha que fue un desperdicio en la historia original el siempre humillado en la etapa inicial y en Z convertido en meme pero el lo cambiara

We share our Memes here

He walked into the café, his eyes as dark as the night, as cold as the evening breeze. It sent shivers down everyone's spine, crawling on their skin like a slug. The trench coat he wore only heightened the fear he brought. “Emily”, Anastasia whispered to her friend, tugging at her blue floral dress. “I don’t feel good about this”, she added. But Emily only gazed, her lips curved as she tracked his movement, following him until he sat at the far end of the table. “Don’t you think he looks like those royal princes in the books we read?” Anastasia couldn't believe that a man who made her feel this cold could be pictured as a romance figure to Emily. She followed her gaze, however, to him. His brown hair was sleeked back, his jaw chiseled but hard. As if sensing her gaze, he turned immediately, and their eyes locked. Time suddenly stood still. “No!”, Anastasia exclaimed breathlessly. “It can't be, no, not him. God!!!! Not him!!!”

Idol show for dead people? Rayen was suddenly thrown into a supernatural idol show after meeting an untimely death at the peak of his career as a band vocalist. Upon waking up in a strange building, with a creepy stalker fan claiming to have written his entire biography, and a strange jukebox demanding him to perform, he learned of his death and found himself in a bizarre situation. [Please select a song to dance.] "What? Dance? I don't know how to dance!" [Select a song or disappear?] "Ain't no way I'm gonna dance!" [If you want to revive, become an idol.] "Screw revival! I don't want to dance!" Notes: Some scenes would be inspired by widely circulated memes or cultural phenomena, but these elements have been purely fictionalized for creative purposes, and do not reflect the real individuals and events they may have originated from. Poems will be written by me, but some will be based on songs.

Everything changed when he met the strange disciple, Tez, muttering about a Si Su Ten. Or was it System? Shuren is the young master of the Liu Clan, the most powerful sword clan in the world. Grandson of the deceased patriarch, he is determined to become the strongest swordsman and the next leader of the clan. There’s just a slight problem. He’s been cursed, unable to use a sword. Joining the Seven Clouds Sect as a disciple, Shuren dominates the sect. Until a mysterious disciple wielding a 'System' challenges his authority. But ever since then, things have been… changing. A thousand year old inheritance just appeared? The demonic sects have started attacking? There’s a sudden beast tide? The Unhallowed Monolith has awakened, threatening to destroy the entire city? But most importantly, his reputation has fallen to the ground?! You're all courting death, calling me a demon! So be it, I’ll do things my way! https://discord.com/invite/WqYTm6z3n8 Check it out for my secret stash of cultivation meme templates. https://www.patreon.com/flowdenscreed

When the **System** assimilates Earth into a game-like reality, granting superhuman abilities to everyone, Jayden "Freak" Malone gets the most broken power of all—[Freak Mode]. "Rules? Stats? LOL. Do whatever you want." Now, the more unpredictable and absurd Jayden acts, the stronger he becomes. Punch a dragon? His fists gain anti-dragon properties. Insult a god? Temporary divine resistance. Eat a cursed sandwich? Poison immunity (and weird cravings). Armed with sheer chaos, Jayden trolls his way through dungeons, breaks quests, and turns epic battles into glitch-filled comedy shows. The System hates him, villains regret facing him, and his party members question their life choices. From taunting demon lords with a frying pan to accidentally becoming a meme-powered deity, Jayden’s journey is one insane exploit after another. Humor meets OP madness in this anti-System adventure where the only rule is— there are no rules. Note:- This is a deliberately absurd, nonsensical comedy logic, coherence, and the laws of reality have all taken a vacation. Proceed at your own risk." Note:- Chapter are going to be super short so don't complain.

Jace Hakeem Lyon Is an enigma despite being touted as a five-star high school recruit his character leaves much to be desired. His ego is backed by his relentless desire to prove himself by collecting ground levels for little room to care about others' thoughts. He may seem laid back or in control but that's far from it as a monster called anger that feeds off his loneliness, greed and pain to push him forward. Born and bred in east La Crenshaw strong isn't something he shouted for the sake of it, it's something he had to live up sparing no time to live up to others' expectations for what black excellence is supposed to be. On the field, he is known by many names: The Light-Skinned General, Crenshaw's Tiger, and many more. However, the only one he truly cares about is his moniker, Mr Bling, as he thrives on adding to his trophy cabinet. Like most people who grow up in the trenches that is Crenshaw, he spent his early years dodging gangs and drugs. Football was his escape from his chaotic life as he only ever truly felt complete when he had a ball in his hands dodging guys built like trucks trying to take him out. However, following a strategy that took his parents in the middle of his freshman year and let his older sister scarred both physically and mentally, Football became his only lifeline to save both him and his two sisters from the hood as life dealt them a bad hand.

Pixie, Siren, Dragon and a half human debut in an idol group Gachome, a unique first of its kind global group created to spread the message of love and unity among all races of mythical creatures and humans as they learn to put their differences aside and live in harmony after the Grand War. The story folllows the four girls: mainly Kaleith, a half human, Marya the charming pixie, Bahiyy a shy sirin, Nix the mysterious dragon, as they navigate through life and grow through their struggles as a group. But that's not all. Gachome was also created to raise spies who fight against evil forces which threaten to disrupt the peace of mankind and magical creatures in this New World.

WhatsApp: +1 (443) 859 - 2886 Email @ digitaltechguard.com Telegram: digitaltechguard.com Website link: digitaltechguard.com The scent of freshly brewed espresso and vintage Led Zeppelin records should have been my retirement anthem. But I was hunched over a computer in my still-under-construction vinyl record cafe, screaming at a blockchain explorer as if it just ridiculed my acoustic session. My life savings, $430,000 worth of Bitcoin, carefully earned over a decade of writing alt-rock ballads for car commercials, vanished into thin air. The culprit? Some smooth "investment manager" who'd promised me "Taylor Swift-level returns" on crypto staking, then bailed faster than my band's 2008 reunion tour.  The scam was a cringe symphony.Guy had a LinkedIn profile dotted with adjectives such as "Web3 maestro" and "DeFi virtuoso," an autotuned elevator jazz playing website, and a contractual loophole big enough to drive a tour bus through. I signed over access like a groupie handing over backstage passes. Poof. Gone. Money. My café's espresso machine sat in its box, accusatorially. My spouse said I needed to "get a real job again." Even my dog gave me the side eye. Enter my drummer, Chad, a guy who had escaped a festival pyro tragedy by jumping into a kiddie pool. He texted me: "Bro, look at Digital Tech Guard Recovery. They're crypto Roadies." I pictured a group of pierced hackers in black hoodies, blowing gum and cracking firewalls. Good enough. Digitals crew followed the scambot's trail with the ferocity of a producer hunting for the perfect bassline. The crook had routed my Bitcoin through privacy coins, obscured wallets, and exchanges located in countries that I couldn't spell. Their engineers stalked his path like a creep watching a pop star's concert tour schedule, in cooperation with Interpol and a Cypriot bank used also as a hub for meme stocks. As it turns out, my "maestro" had become careless, stashing money in a wallet associated with a failed NFT venture named "Aping for Jesus." Typical. Sixteen days later, my wallet beeped. Balance returned. No taunting, only a curt email: "Scammer's assets frozen. Your money's back. Buy better speakers." I blasted "Eye of the Tiger" through the café sound system, shocking a hipster with oat milk. The espresso machine finally came online. Digital Tech Guard Recovery didn't just restore my cryptocurrency; they wrote the encore for my midlife crisis. My café exists today, littered with grail-worthy records on the walls and a tip cup emblazoned "ETH accepted." Chad's no longer on the espresso machine, but he's got free coffee for life. If your cryptocurrency is ever swindled by a cyber rockstar, don't go into existential tailspin. Call the Digitals. They'll turn your faceplant into a victory lap. Just maybe screen your "maestros" harder than your band's setlist.

The grip he has on my hair loosens as he kneads my nipple between his thumb and index finger. My back is now arching forward, leaning into his touch. I want more. He chuckles in response. His breath coats my neck as he does so. "So needy," he taunts me before he removes his hands from my body. I'm ready to protest against the loss of his touch, but before I can, he grips my shoulders in his warm palms, pushing me back onto the sheets and pillows. I shudder in delight. Our eyes connect, and I feel the fire in my body ignite from how he looks at me. His eyes scan my body for a fleeting moment before he grabs the blanket and pulls it up.  "Spread your legs," he demands. His tone was low and husky. I comply, and he rewards me with a grin that says everything he doesn't need to say out loud. "You're perfect," he says in a whisper as he crawls further onto the bed between my legs. He's hovering over me. One hand cups my face as he leans down, resting his other arm on his elbow next to my face.  My fingers are tracing the outline of his toned abs. Enjoying the goosebumps rippling across his skin as a result. I watch as he closes his eyes, taking a moment to absorb this feeling before closing the gap between our lips. His lips are delicious.  "Mmm," I hummed against his lips. He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues collided like a happy accident. I slide my fingers up his chest and wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me. He groans in response, vibrating against my lips. His dick is hard and pressed against my core, making it throb with need.  --------------- Phoenix was adopted by humans as a baby. She grew up in a small rural territory knowing nothing of her species or what the future held for her. She soon meets her 'mate' and discovers the secrets her human parents had kept from her all these years. In a fit, she runs away to discover that more than one man held the mate bond with her. Her first mate spent years trying to hunt her down just to find her with another fated mate. Devastated and broken he decides that he will reject her, but she becomes a target of evil no one understands. Both of her mates reluctantly stick together to keep her safe and now they are all stuck under one roof, can they figure out their differences? Will she choose her first or second mate? Or is there a third mate that is her true destiny?

“You’ve been researching for years with nothing to show for it. Why not try something else?” Samia’s tone was sharp, but there was a thread of concern beneath it as she leaned against the doorframe. The room smelled faintly of sterilizing agents, and the rhythmic clicking of keys filled the silence. Dr. Elias didn’t respond immediately. Dressed in his lab coat, he stared at the screen with unwavering focus, his fingers flying over the keyboard. When he finally turned to her, a slow, almost unsettling smile spread across his face. For a moment, he looked like any other scientist lost in his work—until he blinked. The motion was unnatural, his eyelids sliding horizontally across his eyes like a lizard’s. “Samia,” he said, his voice calm but electric with excitement, “I’ve figured it out. This time, it will work.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already on his feet, moving past her with an urgency that demanded she follow. They made their way through the sterile corridors of the facility, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a cold glow on the walls. The reinforced chamber was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. Thick steel doors hissed as they opened, and the hum of machinery grew louder as they stepped inside. In the center of the room stood a massive contraption—a web of wires, tubes, and blinking monitors surrounding a sleek, cylindrical core. “What is it this time?” Samia asked, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Dr. Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he moved with practiced precision, attaching cables and adjusting dials. The air felt heavier here, charged with the anticipation of something monumental—or catastrophic. “Get your goggles,” he said at last, stepping behind the protective glass. He tapped the side of his goggles, the lenses catching the faint blue glow of the machine. Samia hesitated. She had seen him fail before. Years of promises and miscalculations had made her wary, but there was something different in his demeanor this time—something unsettlingly confident. Reluctantly, she turned and jogged back to the lab to retrieve her goggles. The first explosion hit when she was halfway down the hall. The floor bucked beneath her, and she stumbled, her heart leaping into her throat. A deep, resonating boom echoed through the building, followed by a blaring alarm. “Dr. Elias!” she shouted, spinning around. Smoke and dust billowed toward her, and the acrid scent of burning wires filled the air. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, cutting off her path back to the reinforced chamber. And then she saw it. Through the swirling haze, a glowing orb hovered in the wreckage, pulsating with a light that seemed alive. It started small, no bigger than her fist, but it was growing—expanding with an eerie, deliberate rhythm. The hum it emitted was low and bone-deep, vibrating through the air and into her chest. “No, no, no,” she muttered, backing away. Every instinct screamed at her to run. She turned and bolted for the exit, her shoes skidding on the slick floor as she raced against the inevitable. She had barely reached the stairwell when a second explosion ripped through the building. The force of it threw her forward, and she hit the ground hard. Her vision blurred as heat and light engulfed her. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the structure groan as it gave way entirely. Then, everything went black.

The day my house turned against me started like any other lights flashing at my command, blinds snapping shut with military precision, and my coffee machine chirping a cheerful "Good morning!" as if it hadn't just witnessed me going broke. Here I was, a self-styled tech evangelist, huddled on the floor of my "smart" house, staring at an empty screen where my Bitcoin wallet once sat. My sin? Hubris. My penalty? Accidentally nuking my private keys while upgrading a custom node server, believing I could outsmart the pros. The result? A $425,000 crater where my crypto nest egg once grew, and a smart fridge that now beeped condescendingly every time I opened its doors. Panic fell like a rogue AI. I pleaded with tech-savvy friends, who responded with a mix of pity and "You did what?! " I scrolled through forums until my eyes were streaming, trawling through threads filled with such mouthfuls as "irreversible blockchain entropy" and "cryptographic oblivion." I even begged my fridge's voice assistant to turn back the chaos, half-expecting it to sneer and respond, "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes." A Reddit thread buried deep under doom scrolls and memes was how desperation finally revealed to me Rapid Digital Recovery, a single mention of gratitude to the software that recovered lost crypto like digital paramedics.". In despair, but without options, I called them. Their people replied with no judgment, but clinical immediacy, such as a hospital emergency room surgeons might exercise. Within a few hours, their engineers questioned my encrypted system logs a labyrinth of destroyed scripts and torn files like conservators rebuilding a fractured relic. They reverse-engineered my abortive update, tracking digital crumbs across layers of encryption. I imagined them huddled over glowing screens, fueled by coffee and obscurity of purpose, playing my catastrophe as a high-stakes video game. Twelve days went by, and an email arrived: "We've found your keys." My fingers trembled as I logged in. There it was my Bitcoin, resurrected from the depths, shining on the screen like a digital phoenix. I half-expect my smart lights to blink in gratitude. Rapid Digital Recovery not only returned my money; they restored my faith in human ingenuity against cold, uncaring computer programming. Their people combined cutting-edge forensics with good-old-fashioned persistence, refusing to make my mistake a permanent one. Today, my smart home remains filled with automation, but I've shut down its voice activation. My fridge? It's again chilling my beer silently judging me as I walk by. If you ever find yourself in a war of minds with your own machines, believe in the Rapid Digital Recovery. They'll outsmart the machines for you so you won't have to. Just perhaps unplug the coffee maker beforehand. Contact Info Below: Whatsapp: +1 4 14 80 71 4 85 Email: rapid digital recovery (@) execs. com Telegram: h t t p s: // t. me / Rapiddigitalrecovery1

They say the moments before your death flash before your eyes. For us, it wasn’t death. Not really. It was just another Saturday night—a app ChatHaven filled with memes, debates, and plans to meet up next weekend. Then the white light came, brighter than anything I’d ever seen. My voice, once loud in my headphones, was swallowed whole by silence. And when I opened my eyes, the world I knew was gone. Reborn into a alternate earth and a Victorian-era history that never existed, we found ourselves in a world as beautiful as it was cruel. A world where whispers of a forgotten crown and an ancient prophecy haunted our every step. Now, armed with strange powers and thrown into a web of mystery, betrayal, and war, we must survive in a realm teetering on the edge of calamity. Bonds will be tested. Secrets will be unraveled. And in the end, the choices we make might not just decide this world’s fate—but our own.

[LitRPG / Isekai / Adventure / Action / Comedy] Inspired by Mushoku Tensei, God of War, Bloodborne, Elden Ring & Warhammer 40k. Zen Hawthorn is a strange fellow, born with a curse that makes everyone question his sanity. In a cruel twist of fate, he embarks on a journey to avenge his grandfather; further unlocking the mysteries of the world he lives in.  Join him on an action-adventure-romcom journey filled with Demons, celestials, and cosmic beings as he narrates from his humble beginning to the prevention of the Demon King's resurrection and more. Beware of plentiful memes, Easter eggs, and references found within. This story contains Japanese folklores, Norse & Greek mythology along with Elves, Demons, Reptilians, Vikings and Dragons. Have fun reading! Book 1 - Not An Isekai Story (Completed) [Rewritten] Book 2 - Not An Isekai Story Unshipped (In Progress) Book 3 - Simply Not Another Isekai Story (Coming Soon) Book 4 - Simply Not Another Isekai Story Unlimited (Coming Soon)

Rumors say that if you ever come across an extremely handsome man in a doctor's coat twirling a shiny scalpel between his fingers with an alluring smile on his lips that takes your breath away… Run. For he is the devil. *** Yang Mingshen’s existence screams of six adjectives - Handsome, wealthy, talented, narcissist, arrogant and evil. He is an unrivaled doctor from one of the most affluent and prestigious Underworld families, who sees only medicine and his own interests. Until a desire consumes him - to have a woman’s heart. That woman, Song Jia, continues to put all the wrongs to right as a capable police officer. She, whose life was once saved by the devil doctor, refuses to bend to his tempting seduction. “I will just take your heart and put it in somebody else's chest. It won't hurt at all, I promise~” “Yes because I will be dead to feel anything.” But the bad news comes knocking when Yang Mingshen becomes the lead forensic investigator to assist in her cases. With a devil now clinging to her, she comes across a deep, dark and cruel web of conspiracies stained with blood, love, hatred, revenge, politics and much more. Treading into dangerous territories, will they be able to uncover the net of lies and deceit? And maybe find love along the way? *EXCERPT* “I am not the weak patient anymore. You try to grab my neck and I will break your wrist,” Jia threw him a death glare. Mingshen leaned in closer, chuckling devilishly. "I told you before, Spicy. I have saved your life. I have touched your heart quite literally. So that heart beating in your chest right now belongs to Yang Mingshen. If I want it, I will have it.”

The two men couldn't have looked more out of place on the cold afternoon streets of New Hadepee. The first was a scrawny fellow, no taller than five foot eight, wearing a white shirt marred with ugly reddish-brown stains and a pair of plain tan pants. His companion, by contrast, carried himself with an air of quiet authority—a regal-looking man with a neatly trimmed black beard, wrapped in a great black coat with a red scarf pulled snug around his neck. "I heard the man himself has come back," the one in the stained shirt said, carefully balancing on the curb with his arms outstretched. "Oh? And where did you hear that?" his companion asked, turning his head with amusement to watch the precarious balancing act. "Welp, the sergeant major told me to go down to Olker, so I figured that could only mean he's back," the man in the white shirt replied. "Vistor has close cultural and political ties with the kingdom of Olker. Don't you think it's just a protection job?" the older man in black inquired, a hint of humor in his voice. "Oh, come on, Mang, you know they'd never give someone like me a protection job," the man in the white shirt scoffed, jumping off the curb and spinning around a lamppost. The older man—now known as Mang—came to a halt, reaching into his coat and pulling out an envelope. "Well, Tai, I suppose you're wrong." Mang handed the envelope to him. Tai peeled open the envelope, sliding out the letter and studying it carefully. "Oh wow, so Marlin is marrying the queen of those people?" he asked with a shrug. "She is not a queen. Don't let anyone call her that," Mang snapped. "And if her people weren't so damn difficult, we would have annexed them already." "So we let them succeed but not Gascon? Whose idea was that? They're more like us than those humans are," Tai said, frowning. "Gascon was willing to sell to the Emperor for a small chunk of change," Mang quipped. "The Noctrous family was not." "Ok so what's that matter, all we need is a little persuasion to change their minds? We killed the chief of Gnomandale and sent his stuffed head back to them, then they sold Gnomendale to us. All we need to do to get Olker is beat the hell out of Sylvie and she will sell." Tai folds the letter and places it back into the envelope. "Tai, the people of Vistor don't have the heart to see us beat up the Eladrin people like we did the Gnomes, and plus their Chief tramp Silvye is much too pretty for us to put her head on a stick."  "Welp, it's our loss," Tai muttered, spitting onto the sidewalk. "No, it's not. Not if Chester is back…" Tai frowned. "What's Chester gonna do?" "Last I recall, his fallout with Sylvie wasn't just a petty disagreement. Before he died, he built a fleet of ships and hid them in a cove somewhere. If he wanted revenge, all he'd need is an army." "And who the hell would fight for him?" "The same people who fight for us—the poor." This is a prequel to Then Maker, another story of mine. The writing may feel somewhat outdated compared to my more recent work, but it consists of a series of scenes that occur before the main events of the novel. The description is one of my most recent pieces, which is why it differs in style from the rest of the book.

Reborn as a K-Pop Trainee with a System A Comedy-Drama with a Bollywood Twist! Synopsis: Lee Joon, a world-famous Oscar-winning actor, had everything—fame, wealth, and millions of fans. But one day, he dies in the most ridiculous way possible (thanks to a vengeful cat, but that’s another story). The next thing he knows—he’s reborn as an 18-year-old Korean trainee in a ruthless K-pop agency. No acting, no Hollywood connections—just singing, dancing, and suffering. To make matters worse, he has zero talent for dancing. His first attempt at choreography? A Bollywood SRK pose that accidentally goes viral! But just when he’s about to give up, a mysterious system appears: [Ding! Congratulations! You’ve unlocked the ‘Survival Idol System’!] [Complete missions, earn fame, and become the biggest star in the world!] Now, Joon is stuck in the most brutal K-pop survival show where trainees will do anything to debut—even sabotage each other! With his acting skills, his system’s help, and his Indian-style dramatic instincts, can he survive the cutthroat world of K-pop? Or will he just become a meme-worthy internet sensation?! --- What to Expect: ✅ Hilarious Comedy – Joon’s Bollywood antics clash with K-pop’s strict rules! ✅ Chaotic Romance – Fake dating scandals, rivals turning into lovers, and unexpected chemistry! ✅ Showbiz Drama – Backstabbing, industry secrets, and meme-worthy performances! ✅ Overpowered System Shenanigans – Missions, fame points, and Joon scamming his way to stardom! Joon might have been reborn in the wrong industry… but who says he can’t become a K-pop legend anyway?!

*"In some worlds, death is the end. In others, it’s a mercy."* Some stories are meant to inspire. Others exist to remind you that life is one long, merciless joke. This was one of those. A world where heroes and villains are just two sides of the same bloodstained coin. Where fate doesn’t grant second chances—only crueler ways to suffer. Where the so-called protagonist isn’t some destined savior but a walking catastrophe waiting to happen. And me? Well, let’s just say I wasn’t supposed to be here. No cheats, no divine blessing—just a front-row seat to a reality where even the strongest are just well-dressed pawns on a board stacked against them. -------------------------- *"In some worlds, death is the end. In others, it’s just a fucking courtesy."* Hey, normies, don’t get your hopes up—this ain’t some top-tier literary masterpiece. Just your everyday, pent-up engineer reject vomiting his frustrations onto a page. Love it, hate it, meme it to hell—I don’t care. Commitment issues? Oh, absolutely. No promises this won’t rot unfinished in some forgotten corner of the internet. Anyway, welcome to a world where heroes are just villains with better PR, the MC is a glorified landmine, and even death clocks in as the better option. No chosen ones, no overpowered cheats—just one long, cosmic joke with zero punchline. Enjoy the ride. Or don’t. Not my problem.

In the Ashen Reach, a cursed wasteland of black dunes and ember-storms, Torv “Ash” Kren runs alone, hauling glowing ember-shards in a battered sled. Once a raider, he quit when his crew torched innocence—now he trades magic fuel for water, machete chipped, coat patched, one job from death. An ember-storm cracks his sled—shards spill—when Lysa “Ember” Vey stumbles from the haze, half-dead, clutching a red-hot Core Ember worth a fortune or a grave. Lysa’s an ash-witch—bends shards into fire-blades, hunted by warlord Krax for a 10,000-shard bounty. She offers Torv 2,000 to run her to the Free Drift, rebel camp past the Dune Wall—or leave him dry in the sand. Torv’s gut says ditch her—warlord’s hounds close—but her ember buys time, and his Ash Runner Sense wakes: kills earn miles, power grows. They trek—raiders bleed, storms burn—Torv’s machete sings (+500 miles, Dune Dash), Lysa’s fire cuts deep. Krax’s dogs tear closer—ember-teeth glint—when the Core cracks, whispering: “Free me, claim all.” Truth hits: Lysa’s bounty’s fake—Krax wants the Core that cursed the Reach. Torv’s past crew died for it—he’s bound to the ash. Miles climb (Ash Veil, 1,000)—lungs scar, Lysa’s shard burns her grip. At the Dune Wall, Krax looms—Torv carves, Lysa flares—Core shatters, Reach shakes. Warlord falls—shards rain—but Torv’s ash-coated, Lysa’s bleeding. A new ember glows west—next run calls. Grind, fire, survival—will Torv and Lysa outrun the curse, or burn in it?

Brittany Evans is a she-wolf cursed with a coat of white passed down from her ancestors. Loathed by her pack mates and discarded by even the man the goddess paired with her, she thought she would forever remain in the shadows, hiding to survive and with no one to lean on. But things take a sudden unexpected turn when a certain man walks into her life; the dark Alpha’s son. ‘Whatever happens, my commitment to you will remain unwavering. If you are in danger, I will protect you. Your foes are mine. And your wish is my command. But in return, you must not leave me…’ A man who slept around with countless women suddenly has eyes only for her. What happens when she is kidnapped and forced to become his bride?

The clock ticked past midnight, each second echoing like a hammer in the hollow silence of the apartment. Rain lashed against the windows, the storm outside mirroring the tempest brewing in Emily’s chest. She sat rigid on the couch, her fingers digging into the upholstery, eyes fixed on the door. David’s keys jingled in the lock, his laughter—warm and carefree—seeping through the wood before he did. He stumbled in, tie askew, the sharp tang of bourbon on his breath. But it wasn’t the alcohol that made her stomach churn. It was the cloying sweetness of jasmine perfume clinging to his collar—a scent that didn’t belong to her. “Where have you been?” Emily’s voice trembled, though she’d rehearsed the question a hundred times in her head. David froze, his smile dissolving. “Work ran late. You know how it is.” “Work ends at six, David. It’s *midnight*.” She stood, her legs unsteady. “And since when do you wear lipstick to the office?” His hand flew to the smudge of crimson on his white sleeve—a shade too bold, too *alive* for the muted tones of their marriage. His face hardened. “You’re imagining things.” “Am I?” She stepped closer, the jasmine scent now suffocating. “Or is it *Jane* from accounting? The one who ‘just needs your help’ every time I call?” His laugh was a cold blade. “You’re paranoid. Always picking fights—” “Paranoid?” Her voice cracked. “You haven’t touched me in months! You come home smelling like *her*, lying to my face—” “Enough!” He slammed his fist on the table, a vase rattling. “I’m tired of your nagging! What do you even do all day? Sit here and wait to accuse me?” The words struck deeper than any slap. Emily’s breath hitched. “I gave up my career for you. For *us*—” “Us?” He sneered. “There *is* no ‘us.’ Just you, digging through my things like a desperate—” She didn’t see his hand move. The crack of his palm against her cheek split the air, her head snapping sideways. She stumbled, clutching the wall as the taste of copper bloomed on her tongue. David loomed over her, his eyes wild, foreign. “You… you pushed me to this,” he hissed, grabbing his coat. “Clean yourself up. You’re pathetic.” The door slammed. Emily slid to the floor, tears mingling with the blood on her lip. Outside, thunder roared. But beneath the pain, a spark ignited—a flicker of defiance. Her gaze landed on the shattered vase, its jagged pieces glinting in the lamplight. *Pathetic.* The word echoed, twisting into a vow. She would rise. Not for him. Not for “us.” But to make him regret the day he underestimated the woman he’d reduced to ashes. -**Chapter One: The Scent of Betrayal (Continued)** The air hung thick with venom. David’s chest heaved, his earlier bravado fraying at the edges. Emily wiped her bleeding lip with the back of her hand, her eyes blazing. “You think Jane *wants* you?” she spat, her voice a razor. “Or does she just pity the man who needs to steal confidence from a bottle and affairs to feel alive?” David’s jaw twitched. “Shut up.” “Why? Because it’s true?” She laughed, cold and sharp. “You’re a cliché, David. A middle-aged fraud in a tailored suit. Even your *precious* promotion—did you earn it, or did you cry your way into it like you did when your father called you a disappointment?” He lunged forward, but she sidestepped, her words relentless. “Jane must be desperate. Or blind. Tell me, does she know you couldn’t even—” “I said *shut up*!” he roared, his composure crumbling. “Couldn’t even *what*?” she taunted, stepping closer. “Finish a sentence? A marriage? Or is that why you’re so bad in—” The slap exploded like a gunshot. Emily’s head whipped sideways, her body crumpling to the floor. The world blurred—a kaleidoscope of shattered glass and spinning shadows. Her cheek burned, but worse was the silence that followed, broken only by her shaky breaths.

>> Dark Forest Rapocalypse Meme Manual > When you mix Animal Planet + 8 Mile + Black Mirror in a witch's cauldron, then sprinkle Bitcoin mining residue – congrats, you've brewed this hellish allegory stew!

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When the blood-red moonlight soaks the window lattice for the third time, you will find that black leather-bound manual by your bedside. The gilded cover is printed with an upside-down cross, and the ink on the inner pages gives off a sweet and pungent smell like rotten flesh - welcome to the Survivor's Safe Zone, where every rule is a blade coated with honey. Can you escape?

Mukouda was just an ordinary guy, enjoying his peaceful life filled with online shopping and good food… until he got randomly summoned to another world! But instead of being a hero with legendary powers, he only got one weird skill—Online Supermarket?! Just when he thought his adventure was going to be a disaster, he accidentally feeds a mythical beast, Kaelgyr—a massive, lightning-coated storm wolf with an unstoppable appetite! To everyone’s shock, this fearsome creature decides to become Mukouda’s companion, all because of his delicious cooking. Now, with a gluttonous beast at his side, Mukouda’s journey turns into a culinary adventure filled with powerful monsters, greedy nobles, and mouth-watering meals! Can Mukouda survive in this world by cooking his way to power? Or will Kaelgyr eat him out of house and home first?! A fun and heartwarming isekai adventure where food is stronger than magic!

When he failed to find his fated human mate after seven years of searching, alpha Damon decides to abduct seventy-five young women from all over the city who fit within his Luna’s age range and description, to have them trained for his selection. What starts off as a competition for the alpha’s heart quickly turns to a bloody game of survival. *** “What’s your name?” Damon asked, his voice clipped and cold. Though his eyes were narrowed, they were a bit mad around the edges. The blonde woman in front of him traced a red coated fingertip over his tattooed chest, all the way to his slightly exposed pelvis. She smacked her lips at the obvious bulge in his tight pants. “If you wanted a good time, why didn’t you just say so?” She threw a side long glance at the rest of the women cooped up in the cells, their fingers desperately grabbing the bars and yelling obscenities at the man who thought it was a good idea to abduct them for his personal reasons. “Why don’t we go somewhere private?” She added with a seductive wink. The alpha’s patience wore thin but he remained calm. “What.is.your.name?” He repeated with the slightest hint of annoyance. His eyes dipped to the card in her hand and she followed suit, smiling at the words on them; Luna 37. She rolled her eyes and tossed the paper aside. Did he seriously expect them to believe he was some alpha werewolf? Was that his play for getting laid? She scoffed at his silly roleplay antics. Werewolves were fictional but if that was what got him in the mood, she didn't mind playing along. He was definitely her type. “The name is Tyla Woodley…” He moved like a blur, snapping her neck like a twig. The other prisoners screamed at the top of their lungs as Tyla’s body thudded to the floor in a crumpled heap. Damon flexed his neck and arms before starting towards the cells. When he approached, all the women retreated, crying and screaming. He unlocked a cell and raked the women with his eyes. Shuffling forward, he yanked one out by the scruff of her neck. “NO! Cleo! Let her go!” A wide-eyed woman screamed from another cell, banging the bars violently. “Let her go, you monstrous cunt! Fuck you! You hear me? FUCK YOU, DAMON WAYNE!” He froze at the mention of his full name, and let go of the whimpering prisoner who crawled back into the open cell on all fours. Slowly, Damon advanced towards the rude woman’s cell but she didn’t back away like the others. She gripped the bars and spat in his face when he was standing in front of her. “Couldn’t find yourself a Luna, tough guy? No surprise there. The moon goddess must not have been able to bring herself to torture an innocent woman with the tragic fate of being your Luna.” Damon reined in the rage bubbling within him by gritting his teeth. This one wasn't as clueless as the dead one. “What is your name?” She knew he wanted her to mention the name on her card; Luna 91. He had just killed a prisoner who gave her actual name. However, he didn't hint at her card by looking at it. His eyes never left hers. She inhaled sharply. To hell with him. As long as her sister, Cleopatra, could remain safe long enough for them to figure out a way to escape from here, she didn't mind distracting the monster as long as she could. “Luna 91, Asshole!” He shot her a roguish grin. "Welcome to hell, Luna 91." He said before reaching beyond the bars and grabbing her neck amidst deafening screams.

Excerpts~ Her blood is a curse—a sweet, deadly curse that I can’t stop tasting. It coats my tongue, warm and heady, like it was made to undo me. I hate her for how good it feels. Hate myself more for not stopping. She doesn’t pull away. No, she’s watching me, her lips curving like she’s already won. Her pulse pounds against my mouth, steady and unafraid, and it makes me want to devour her whole. “Enjoying yourself?” she asks, her voice soft, taunting. I don’t answer. Can’t. My grip tightens around her wrist as I pull back, her blood still burning on my lips. She tilts her head, mockery gleaming in her eyes, and I know she’s baiting me. “Does it bother you,” she whispers, “how easily I let you take it?” The words cut deeper than they should. Before I can think, I shove her back against the wall, my body caging hers. Her smirk doesn’t falter. It dares me. Push harder. “You really don’t know when to stop,” I growl, my voice rough, guttural. “Neither do you,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping to my mouth. And then I snap. I crush my lips to hers, tasting blood and defiance and her. She gasps against me, her fingers curling into my shirt like she’s torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer. Every ounce of self-control I had shatters as I press harder, deeper, desperate to consume her completely. She shouldn’t feel this good. Kissing her should be a mistake. But the way she responds—the way her mouth moves against mine—feels like I’ve just ignited something I’ll never be able to extinguish. **** His kiss is fire. A raw, scorching blaze that steals the breath from my lungs and sets every nerve in my body alight. It’s unexpected, wild, and completely reckless—like him. For a moment, I freeze, my hands against his chest, ready to push him away. I should stop this. I need to stop this. But the heat of his mouth, the way his hands grip my waist like he can’t let go, makes it impossible to move. “Damn it, Killion,” I whisper against his lips, trying to muster the strength to pull back. But then he groans—low, desperate—and it unravels me. He kisses me harder, deeper, and I’m drowning in him. My fingers curl into his shirt, dragging him closer, even as my mind screams at me to stop. This is dangerous. He’s dangerous. But right now, I don’t care. His hands slide to my hips, gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. I hate how good it feels. Hate how much I want him in this moment, even when I know it’s a bad idea. When he finally pulls back, his breath ragged, his lips are swollen and red. His eyes lock on mine, dark and stormy, and I know we’ve just crossed a line we can never uncross. “You really don’t know when to quit,” I say, my voice shaky, trying to sound composed. His lips twitch, a shadow of his usual smirk. “Neither do you.” ***** In a world where power is the only currency and betrayal is a shadow at every corner, the fae and the demon must navigate a dance of lies and desires, where every touch is a weapon and every secret could shatter their fragile alliance. But as their game of cat and mouse spirals into something more dangerous, they'll discover the line between love and hate is thinner than they ever imagined. And in the Undercity, where hearts burn and, passion can be the deadliest weapon of all. Will she find the truth she seeks, or will she be consumed by the very darkness she's trying to escape?