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birches by robert frost

birches by robert frost

Extra's Path: The Eternal Frost Monarch

Extra's Path: The Eternal Frost Monarch

[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 You can Support me on kofi: https://ko-fi.com/lolman2020
Fantasy
178 Chs
Sold To The Frost Alpha

Sold To The Frost Alpha

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."
Fantasy
155 Chs
Verkauft an den Frost-Alpha

Verkauft an den Frost-Alpha

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.“
Fantasy
111 Chs
Embers of Frost: From Biologist to Ice God

Embers of Frost: From Biologist to Ice God

"Why is the Earth so different?" In the year 2085, the impossible happened: the Earth began to slow down until it stopped completely. Without an apparent reason, the planet drifted out of its orbit and began to wander through deep space. Neither the most brilliant scientists nor the most advanced AIs could find an answer as to why this was occurring. The Moon failed to follow Earth’s new path, as a result, massive tidal shifts swallowed entire continents, leaving only a fraction of humanity alive. The catastrophe deepened when, after three weeks of drifting, Earth collided with a mysterious, pitch-black planet. In the wake of the impact, more landmasses were shattered, leaving only portions of Asia and Africa intact. From the darkness of this black planet, strange entities emerged. Humanity dubbed them "Krukins", hostile, ink-black creatures that were extremely aggressive toward the survivors. Right before the Earth began its descent into chaos, a biologist was launched toward a planet near a black hole. This world, dubbed "New Earth" due to its striking similarities to our own. The biologist, Darian, was told that while ten years would pass for him on this new world, only fifty years would pass on Earth. But the calculations were wrong. It wasn’t fifty years that passed back home, it was five hundred. When Darian finally returns to Earth, he is not alone. On the alien planet, he found a small creature capable of fusing with him, granting him the power of ice. He returns five centuries late to find a world he no longer recognizes, a planet overrun by Krukins. Standing amidst the ruins of his home, Darian cannot believe his eyes. Daily Chapters at 5:00 PM (Italy Time / CET) (For global readers: 4:00 PM UTC / 11:00 AM EST)
Fantasy
106 Chs
What are the characteristics of a Robert Frost caricature?
A Robert Frost caricature often exaggerates his facial features, like a prominent nose or intense eyes. It might also play up his typical pose or style of dress.
3 answers
2025-05-10 23:58
Where are the most birches?
In China, birches were mostly distributed in the northeast, northwest, and southwest mountainous areas. Birches were mainly distributed in the north of the world, and a few species were distributed in the frigid zone. "Life Like a White Birch" is equally exciting. Everyone is welcome to click and read it!
1 answer
2026-03-14 06:47
Are birches and poplars the same?
Birches and poplars were different. In terms of trunk, the birch tree was taller, reaching about 25 meters, with white bark and smooth surface. The poplar tree was about 5 to 15 meters tall, with white or gray-white bark and rough skin. In terms of branches, the branches of the birch tree were mostly dark red and slender, while the branches of the poplar tree were shorter and cyan. In terms of leaves, birch leaves were single and alternate, triangular oval, with serrated edges, while poplar leaves were oval, sharp at the top, and heart-shaped at the base. "Life Like a White Birch" is equally exciting. Everyone is welcome to click and read it!
1 answer
2026-02-20 19:44
Did Robert Frost write short stories?
No. Robert Frost was primarily known for his poetry. He is one of the most celebrated American poets. His works like 'The Road Not Taken' and 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' are famous poems, but he did not engage in short story writing.
2 answers
2024-11-22 02:43
What are the names of Robert Frost's novels?
As far as I know, Frost is not particularly renowned for writing novels. His reputation is firmly rooted in the realm of poetry. He was a master of using simple language to convey profound and complex emotions through his poems, and his works have had a huge impact on American literature, but novels are not his forte.
2 answers
2024-11-12 23:10
Did Robert Frost write short stories?
No, Robert Frost was primarily known for his poetry and not for writing short stories.
3 answers
2024-09-27 22:15
What are Robert Frost's famous novels?
Robert Frost is mainly known for his poetry rather than novels. He didn't have a large body of work in the form of novels.
2 answers
2024-11-09 11:44
Is 'Home Burial' by Robert Frost a short story?
Well, 'Home Burial' by Robert Frost isn't a short story. It's a powerful and emotional poem that explores complex themes and relationships through its verses.
2 answers
2024-10-16 10:01
Analysis of Robert Frost's Short Stories
Robert Frost is mainly known for his poetry rather than short stories. However, if we were to analyze what his short stories might be like, we could expect them to have the same deep themes as his poems. His works often explore nature, human nature, and the relationship between man and the world. Maybe his short stories would use rural settings, just like in his poems, to convey complex emotions and moral lessons.
2 answers
2024-11-10 22:49
How to create a Robert Frost cartoon drawing?
Start by studying Robert Frost's features and expressions. Sketch the basic outline and then add details like his clothing and hairstyle.
2 answers
2025-06-05 15:00
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