jack frost bedtime story

Betrayed by his childhood friend and expelled from the Hero Party, Orun Dura—once a skilled swordsman turned loyal Enchanter—is mocked as a "jack-of-all-trades, master of none." Cast out alone, he returns to solo adventuring with his versatile skills. What his former comrades dismissed as mediocrity becomes his greatest strength: rapid adaptability across swordplay, magic, and more. As he rises through explosive battles and deadly challenges, Orun proves that true power lies in versatility, forging a path to surpass every expectation.

A/N : Alt Title - Jack of Entertainment Title : Jack of Arts Synopsis: Tayaw is a talented musician who never got to fulfill his potential. After losing his purpose in an unfulfilled life full of regrets; he is given the chance to go back in time and do everything over again.Along with a mysterious gift and an unclear mission, Tayaw starts a new life, this time making his mark to the world. "Tayaw is a once in a hundred years musical artist! I just wish he was born in my generation" - Buddy Rich, two-time Gramophone Award winner "I admit he's a good musician, but he's an author first and foremost. He is changing the world of literature for the better." - Helena Paddington, Outcault Prize for Fiction winner, Sohlman Prize for Literature winner. "Despite being a musician and an author, he is to me, the greatest blessing to the film industry. This is his era." - Heo Dong-jun, two-time Academy Award winner for Best Director and three-time nominee. "I don't like him. Why does he use actors who didn't train and grind on the stage? He says he doesn't like my acting? What the hell does the kid know about acting? I've won awards for f*cks sake!" - Merrell Street, five-time Academy Award winner for Best Actor, three-time Toby Award winner for Best Actor. --------------- A ground work for a novel idea in the future. --------------- English is not my first language so excuse my limited vocabulary and bad grammar. thanks

Silvermist Evermore never belonged. Born to unloving parents and cast aside, she had long accepted that life would never offer her warmth—until she was chosen as an apprentice at Moonstone Academy, a place where magic breathes and fate is written in the stars. But her arrival comes with a price. In an act of betrayal and manipulation, Silvermist shatters Frost's staff, the formidable Winter Guardian, unraveling a secret that should have remained buried. Now, bound by an ancient rule, she must take its place—not as a mere apprentice, but as something far more dangerous: Frost’s human staff, the living embodiment of his power. As Silvermist struggles to navigate the treacherous halls of her reality, a shadow began appearing to her, feeding her magic she was never meant to wield. Hunted by those who seek to use her, Silvermist must uncover the truth behind her own existence before she loses herself to the very storm she was forced to face. Can she survive the weight of Winter, or will she be the final snowfall that buries them all?

Tang San × Bingxue Shu Yu × Xiao Wu

[Error!] [Error!] [Error!] [System cannot synchronize with user! The soul is not compatible!] [User don't have any knowledge of future] [Survival chances until the end...........0%!] [Ding!~] [System cannot be initiated. But for poor user who had no future....We pity you!] [So each event you survives you will be rewarded according to your contribution in scenario! That's all we can do for you.] [Best of luck use–no. Best of luck Extra!] [---] ....... Aron lived a normal, happy life. He wasn’t a loner, nor did he have a tragic past. So why was he the one who got transmigrated? While trying out a new game, he found himself inside its world, in the body of an extra. As if that weren’t bad enough, he received a broken, useless system. Offering rewards only if he survived each scenerio. He had no guidance. No warnings. No knowledge of the game. This world was destined for chaos, where Eternal Beings would wage war in the near future. Aron— now Noah would carve his own path to survive. Even if it means to become an Eternal being himself. But for now, surviving the academy alone was already a nightmare. --- [A/N: The Story is Slowpaced. There will be lot of fun and entertainment chapter. Read them as fun and Don't question over their actions since they were written as fun. Story will be more serious and dark when it needed to! So enjoy now!] Discord Server link: https://discord.gg/dtFkwXFrNm

Selene Jameson has always been the family stain, unwanted daughter, shadow to the golden children. The night her mother dies saving her life, Selene loses the only person who ever loved her. When Atlas D'Angelo, the boy she gave everything to, betrays her in the cruelest way possible, she vows never to beg for love again. But fate has darker plans. On the night Selene finally tastes freedom, fame, money, a future of her own her family sells her to a supernatural auction. She's thrust into a hidden world ruled by lycans who see humans as nothing more than commodity. Then he buys her. Mikhail Morozov, Wintercrest Alpha and High Alpha of the Onyx Concord. Feared across Nocturna, Lycan Realm. With a shattered past, a missing sister, and a throne built on blood and betrayal, the last thing he needs is a defiant human girl with a sharp tongue and darker humor than his sins. But Selene isn't human. She bears the Crescent, a mark of ancient power that could save the Nocturna or destroy it. When Kustav Volkov, a rival ruthless Alpha, is revealed to be Selene's father, he lays his claim on her. Mikhail offers Selene a choice: marry him in a blood-bound pact that grants her protection under lycan law. But this marriage of convenience will be anything but convenient. *** "And you smell good," I interrupted, words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Really good. Like winter but not the terrifying kind. The beautiful kind. With snow and—" I scrunched my nose, grasping for the description. "Those delicate frost patterns that appear on glass." Mikhail produced a sound deep in his chest that could've been a growl or a chuckle or something caught between. "Why are there two staircases?" I blurted suddenly, fixating on the duplicated grand stairway looming before us. "Is this intentional? Seems ridiculously excessive." "There's only one staircase, moya." "Are you certain? Because I'm definitely seeing two. Perhaps you require vision correction. Do lycans need glasses? That would be hilarious. Tiny spectacles perched on a massive terrifying wolf—" "Selene." His voice emerged strained, taut in a manner that penetrated even through my fog. "You need to stop talking." I peered up at him, hurt piercing through the pleasant haze. "Why? Am I irritating you? I'm sorry. I'll stay quiet." "No." The word escaped sharp, nearly anguished. "You're not irritating me. You're—" He severed the sentence, jaw clenching so viciously I witnessed the muscle twitch. "Just... rest." But I didn't want rest. I wanted to comprehend why his expression appeared like that—all rigid and ravenous and something else I couldn't identify. "Are you alright?" I asked, raising my hand toward his jaw. He intercepted my wrist before contact, his hold gentle yet unyielding. "Don't." "Why not?" "Because I'm barely maintaining control as it is, and if you touch me right now—" He halted abruptly, eyes compressing shut momentarily. "Just don't." That should've frightened me. The ferocity in his tone, the way his restraint appeared to unravel at the seams. But intoxicated-me simply smiled, inexplicably pleased. Then I caught the way his gaze dropped. Just for a fraction of a heartbeat. To my mouth. Heat bloomed through my chest, spreading like wildfire. "You want to kiss me," I breathed, the revelation making me giddy. His eyes snapped back to mine, glacial blue turned predatory. "Kissing," he said slowly, voice dropping an octave, "doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what I want to do to you." The air left my lungs. His grip on my wrist shifted, thumb finding my pulse point. Pressing there. Feeling the frantic rhythm he'd caused. "Kissing is gentle," he continued, leaning in just enough that his breath ghosted across my lips. Close enough to take. Close enough to claim. But he didn't. "Kissing is sweet. What I want?" His eyes dragged down my face, my throat, lower then back up with deliberate slowness. "There's nothing gentle about it."

Wang Yu crossed to an alternate world and found that here the game became a reality. A large number of monsters appeared in the Blue Star, and various secret realms and dungeons were everywhere. People found they could get a lot of rewards for killing monsters, and the era of worldwide class change started. At the class-change ceremony, Wang Yu found he became the most unpromising class, Fisherman. When the system loaded, everything was different. He found that he could obtain various rewards through fishing. He got Frozen Fruits by angling. He raised his hand and froze everything like it was the Ice Age! Fishing for foreign fire, casting the Buddha's Angry Fire Lotus, burning all magical beasts! Fishing wood, he became the Buddha and all races were shocked! In addition, there was also divine equipment, mythical pet eggs, and all kinds of strange props. When Wang Yu made it to the top of the ten thousand races, everyone was shocked. "You call this a life-type occupation Fisherman?"

Devil’s Bedtime Stories An Anthology of One-Shot Horror Tales > “Not all stories are meant to be told at night. Some were never meant to be told at all…” Behind every nightmare lies a truth that someone tried to bury. In this collection of twisted horror one-shots, each volume opens the door to a different darkness— where hotel rooms rewrite your soul, shadows remember your name, and monsters don’t hide under your bed... they tuck you in. From cursed lakes and haunted towns to devils disguised as bedtime storytellers, every tale in this anthology is a slow, inescapable descent into madness, dread, and the chilling possibility that you were never alone to begin with. Once you open this book, you're already part of the story. And the Devil never forgets his readers. This is not a book for sleep. This is a book for those who want to know what's waiting in the dark... For those who are ready to stop pretending the whisper under their bed was the wind. For those who understand: > Once you start reading… you can’t unread what follows. --- SERIES FORMAT: Each Volume = One Complete Horror Story Every Release = A New Devil’s Bedtime Tale No Endings Are Safe. No Truth Is Entirely Buried. Every Story Is a Doorway You Choose to Open. --- > “Once you read it, it knows you. Once you dream it, it never leaves.”

A story about lazyness and the true NEET life.

Selene Jameson war schon immer der Schandfleck der Familie, die ungewollte Tochter, ein Schatten der Goldkinder. In der Nacht, in der ihre Mutter stirbt, um ihr das Leben zu retten, verliert Selene die einzige Person, die sie je geliebt hat. Als Atlas D'Angelo, der Junge, dem sie alles gab, sie auf die grausamste Art und Weise verrät, schwört sie, nie wieder um Liebe zu betteln. Doch das Schicksal hat düsterere Pläne. In der Nacht, in der Selene endlich Freiheit, Ruhm, Geld und eine eigene Zukunft schmeckt, verkauft ihre Familie sie an eine übernatürliche Auktion. Sie wird in eine verborgene Welt gestoßen, die von Lykanern beherrscht wird, die Menschen als nichts weiter als eine Ware ansehen. Dann kauft er sie. Mikhail Morozov, der Wintercrest-Alpha und Hohe Alpha der Onyx-Eintracht. Gefürchtet in ganz Nocturna, dem Reich der Lykaner. Mit einer zerbrochenen Vergangenheit, einer vermissten Schwester und einem Thron, der auf Blut und Verrat gebaut ist, ist das Letzte, was er braucht, ein aufsässiges Menschenmädchen mit einer scharfen Zunge und einem schwärzeren Humor als seine Sünden. Aber Selene ist kein Mensch. Sie trägt den Halbmond, ein Zeichen uralter Macht, das Nocturna retten oder zerstören könnte. Als sich herausstellt, dass Kustav Volkov, ein rivalisierender, skrupelloser Alpha, Selenes Vater ist, erhebt er Anspruch auf sie. Mikhail bietet Selene eine Wahl an: ihn in einem blutgebundenen Pakt zu heiraten, der ihr Schutz nach dem Gesetz der Lykaner gewährt. Aber diese Zweckehe wird alles andere als zweckmäßig sein. *** „Und du riechst gut“, unterbrach ich ihn, die Worte sprudelten aus mir heraus, bevor ich sie aufhalten konnte. „Wirklich gut. Wie Winter, aber nicht die furchterregende Art. Die schöne Art. Mit Schnee und –“ Ich rümpfte die Nase und suchte nach der richtigen Beschreibung. „Diesen zarten Frostmustern, die auf Glas erscheinen.“ Mikhail brachte ein tiefes Geräusch in seiner Brust hervor, das ein Knurren, ein Lachen oder etwas dazwischen hätte sein können. „Warum gibt es da zwei Treppen?“, platzte ich plötzlich heraus und starrte auf die doppelte, große Treppe, die sich vor uns auftürmte. „Ist das Absicht? Es scheint lächerlich übertrieben.“ „Es gibt nur eine Treppe, moya.“ „Bist du sicher? Ich sehe nämlich definitiv zwei. Vielleicht brauchst du eine Sehkorrektur. Brauchen Lykaner Brillen? Das wäre urkomisch. Winzige Brillen auf einem riesigen, furchterregenden Wolf –“ „Selene.“ Seine Stimme klang angespannt, so straff, dass sie selbst durch meinen Nebel drang. „Du musst aufhören zu reden.“ Ich blickte zu ihm auf, während der Schmerz den angenehmen Dunst durchdrang. „Warum? Nerve ich dich? Tut mir leid. Ich werde still sein.“ „Nein.“ Das Wort kam scharf, fast gequält heraus. „Du nervst mich nicht. Du bist –“ Er brach den Satz ab, sein Kiefer spannte sich so heftig an, dass ich den Muskel zucken sah. „Ruh dich einfach aus.“ Aber ich wollte mich nicht ausruhen. Ich wollte verstehen, warum sein Gesichtsausdruck so aussah – so starr und heißhungrig und noch etwas, das ich nicht einordnen konnte. „Ist alles in Ordnung?“, fragte ich und hob meine Hand zu seinem Kiefer. Er fing mein Handgelenk ab, bevor ich ihn berühren konnte, sein Griff war sanft und doch unnachgiebig. „Lass es.“ „Warum nicht?“ „Weil ich die Kontrolle ohnehin kaum bewahren kann, und wenn du mich jetzt berührst –“ Er hielt abrupt inne und presste die Augen für einen Moment zusammen. „Lass es einfach.“ Das hätte mir Angst machen sollen. Die Wildheit in seinem Ton, die Art, wie seine Zurückhaltung aus allen Nähten zu platzen schien. Aber mein betrunkenes Ich lächelte nur, unerklärlich erfreut. Dann bemerkte ich, wie sein Blick nach unten wanderte. Nur für den Bruchteil eines Herzschlags. Zu meinem Mund. Hitze blühte in meiner Brust auf und breitete sich wie ein Lauffeuer aus. „Du willst mich küssen“, hauchte ich, und die Erkenntnis machte mich schwindelig. Seine Augen schnellten zurück zu meinen, das eisige Blau wurde raubtierhaft. „Küssen“, sagte er langsam, seine Stimme eine Oktave tiefer, „kratzt nicht einmal an der Oberfläche dessen, was ich mit dir tun will.“ Mir blieb die Luft weg. Sein Griff um mein Handgelenk verlagerte sich, sein Daumen fand meinen Puls. Drückte dort. Fühlte den rasenden Rhythmus, den er verursacht hatte. „Küssen ist sanft“, fuhr er fort und beugte sich gerade so weit vor, dass sein Atem über meine Lippen strich. Nah genug, um zu nehmen. Nah genug, um zu beanspruchen. Aber er tat es nicht. „Küssen ist süß. Was ich will?“ Seine Augen wanderten mein Gesicht hinab, meinen Hals, tiefer und dann mit bedächtiger Langsamkeit wieder nach oben. „Daran ist nichts Sanftes.“