A Gamer's Guide To Pretty Much Everything

The day Noelle Rutherford finds out she's pregnant, she braves the rain to go to a club that Chester Gray frequents. She stands outside a private room and pats her soaked hair dry with some tissues, wanting to surprise him when his get-together ends. Through the ajar door, she hears laughter. "Chester, your wedding to Noelle is in a week. Is your surprise for her ready?" "Of course," Chester says, his usually cool voice laced with tipsiness. "I'll make it a memory she'll never forget." Noelle pauses, and her lips curve upward in a sweet smile. Throughout her three years with Chester, he has truly cherished her like a treasure and loved her with all his heart. "Ha! Do you think she'll have a meltdown and lose her mind on the big day when she finds out I've been toying with her while pretending to be you this whole time?" Someone laughed. "She'd never in her wildest dreams imagine that Chester has an identical twin brother! When she finds out her boyfriend's brother has been playing her for three years…"

The day I got out of prison, my girlfriend—who I hadn't seen in five years—pulled up in a Maserati to pick me up. In the passenger seat sat a guy in his early twenties, athletic build. His face looked a little too much like mine did when I was younger. Selene told me not to make a scene. Not to want things that were never mine. She said with her status now, she could have as many pretty boys as she wanted. Right now, she only had one. Apparently, he was my replacement. So I shouldn't be so narrow-minded. After all, a guy like me—fresh out of prison with a record—wasn't even in her league anymore. I stared at Selene, a little dazed. She wasn't wrong. But she seemed to have forgotten why I went to prison in the first place.

During the mandatory freshman orientation camp, my skin had flared up with a severe allergic reaction, so I didn't use the plastic washbasin the school handed out. Instead, I opened my suitcase and took out the custom silver basin I had brought from home. My roommate, Louisa Carter, immediately made a snide remark, drawling, "You're really something, huh? Kids from broke families like us are lucky to have any basin at all." I didn't bother responding. I simply pulled out my facial essence to do a cold compress, but she immediately rushed over, slapped the bottle out of my hand, and jabbed a finger at my face. "Bet you get tens of thousands a month for living expenses. You have a sugar daddy, don't you? Don't you feel guilty making your folks work their fingers to the bone back on the farm? People like you don't deserve to be at our school. I'm reporting you to the student counselor." I laughed in disbelief and slapped her. … The next morning, the family photo I'd left on my desk had been slashed to ribbons. Across the back, carved in ink, were the words: 'Daughter of a homewrecker. Go to hell.' I went straight to the police. While officers pulled the dorm security footage, our student counselor and the university president rushed in. The moment the president saw the man whose face had been cut apart in my photo, his legs nearly buckled. He almost dropped to his knees.

After being reborn, the first thing I did was forge a medical report diagnosing chronic kidney disease. In my previous life, my nephew had been diagnosed with kidney failure, and he needed a transplant to survive. I rushed to get a matching test and donated one of my kidneys to him. But over time, my health deteriorated. At twenty, my body felt like it belonged to someone eighty. Even simple chores like sweeping the floor left me exhausted. I couldn't go out to work or earn a living, yet my brother and sister-in-law scolded me for "pretending to be sick." "It's just a kidney." my sister-in-law snapped. "Do you expect to leech off our family forever?" She even went so far as to buy a pair of fresh pig kidneys and smash them in my face. "Since we took one of yours, here's a new pair. Happy now?" Because I had lost a kidney, I died before the age of thirty, alone in a rented apartment. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back—before my nephew's diagnosis even came in.

Before being sold to a 60-year-old man by her parents, Rosalynn Carter quickly made a daring move – selling her virginity to a handsome man to save herself. However, she never expected that the one-night stand would be an ironic twist of fate, dragging her from one hell to another! "I will never love you!" Rosalynn cried, repeatedly punching the chest of the man who held her tightly. The bottom of her eyes were filled with helplessness and fatigue, but he was always the one who could easily bury her in the depths of despair. He traced his lips gently along her delicate face, whispering into her ear with a voice reminiscent of a demon's. "Not loving will turn into love! You have no other choice because your body, your heart, and even your soul—all were bought by me!" He always emphasized that love couldn't exist in their relationship, why was he now forcing her to love him? Was winning the heart of a demon her misfortune or her sin?

Does love conquer all? Even gender? Even society? Even life? What will happen when a bad boy fell in love? Marc and Gary, two hot-tempered guys. Marc the bad boy met Gary the mysterious transfer student. What happens when Marc got attracted to Gary who is straight and has past. What will a bad boy do to attract Gary's attention? Can they really be together? Or will Marc's obsession turn things to ugly situations that he will regret...

Oluchi never thought love would find her this late. She has spent her life following rules, hiding pieces of herself, and convincing the world she was fine. Then comes Amina the soft-spoken lesson teacher with a fire in her eyes, the one who makes Oluchi’s world feel both terrifying and alive. What begins as stolen glances soon becomes a dangerous longing. Desire. Fear. Hope. Everything Oluchi was told to bury begins to rise. But in a world that punishes women for wanting more, for loving differently… Can Oluchi risk it all for love? Or will survival demand her silence once again? The Love That Changed Everything is a tender, messy, and unforgettable story about late-found love, queer longing, and the price of choosing yourself.

God is always fair, but the world is never fair. Sometimes to defeat bad people, you must become a bad one yourself. His bloody hands rested on his knees which were spread apart. His head was bent and he looked perfect for the job. I just offered him my hand."I don't need your help. I can get up on my own."I raised an eyebrow at him and connected my hand with his. I attempted to pull him up. But, he didn't budge. I tried again, but no luck. This time, he growled. "Stop it and get lost. Leave me alone." He pointed his finger at me. I immediately caught hold of the finger and attempted to snap it, but he was quicker than me. He caught my hand which was holding his finger and twisted it so that my arm was strangling my own neck and I was pressed against his chest. We broke into a fight and in the end, we both were breathless and I was straddling him.

I'm the true heir to an affluent family who got switched at birth. But when I'm reunited with my family, they suddenly announce their bankruptcy. The sprawling mansion is repossessed, leaving me, my wife, and my parents to sleep on the streets. My parents are so furious that they end up getting admitted to the hospital—one gets a stroke, and the other passes away. My wife gets her legs broken by one of the creditors, and my son is so frightened that he becomes mentally impaired. To bear the astronomical medical bill, I work countless part-time jobs and put myself through the wringer. Everything changes when, one day, I accept a job as a temporary driver. I go to a lavish hotel's banquet hall. A celebration for a gold wedding is being held there, and I see my late mother and paralyzed father sharing a kiss onstage. My crippled wife is dancing offstage as she enjoys the festivities. Meanwhile, my son speaks fluently in a foreign language as he speaks with a foreign child.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.