Post-apocalyptique

In my dormitory, there was a poor student. With all the good intentions in the world, my roommates and I were eager to help her, not realizing how much our help would cost. She wasn't impressed by the hairdryer we offered, insisting on borrowing a branded one instead. The skincare products we gave her? They were applied to her feet. And, as if that wasn't enough, she specifically demanded luxury face cream. One day, I lent her my tablet to look up some information, and to my surprise, she secretly opened up my gaming app, spent all the diamonds and reward tickets I had saved for half a year, and left me empty-handed. When I asked her to pay me back, she turned the tables and posted a public message online, accusing me. "I'm just a poor student from the countryside, never played games before. Are the materials in the game really worth this much?" Before I knew it, the comment section was flooded with criticisms of me. In a fit of frustration, I fired back with a post of my own, throwing her into the spotlight. "Well, I suppose you've never tasted the bitterness of being cyberbullied, have you?"

La nuit l'ombre le matin la lumière. l'éternel est la vérité qui ne peux pas être dissimulé bien longtemps la lune le soleil

*Sequel of Palmer's Dance* It has been more than a year since I posted Palmer's Dance, and even though I started writing this story, I had to put it on hold. But now I will try to finish it and will post what I got so far. Updates will be twice a week for now.... Faith Hilton and Gunner Travis had it all. A beautiful relationship, a great home and a gorgeous baby girl. Being High school sweethearts, they truly believed they are meant for each other, and that their love will persist until the end. But, obstacles in their lives make them question whether they truly belong with each other. With their baby's heart condition and the threat of losing their ranch, it only gets harder for them. With their high school friends' perfect life, and theirs going downhill, their strength and love will be tested in this sweet romance that might make you tear up or even smile.

Le jour de notre dixième anniversaire de mariage, mon ancienne meilleure amie a posté une photo. Sur l’image, sa fille et mon fils, chacun dans les bras de mon mari et d’elle. Tous les quatre serrés ensemble. La légende disait : « Une belle famille avec un fils et une fille. » J’ai commenté en dessous : « Très assortis. » La publication a disparu aussitôt. Le lendemain, mon mari a déboulé à la maison, furieux : « Sophie commençait juste à se sentir mieux, pourquoi tu l’as provoquée ? » Mon fils m’a poussée, plein de reproches : « C’est de ta faute ! Tu as fait pleurer ma petite sœur Cécile ! » J’ai sorti les papiers du divorce et les leur ai balancés au visage : « Ouais, tout est de ma faute. Alors je me casse. Profitez bien de belle famille à quatre. »

In a post apocalyptic world, where staying alive is an impossibility, home is in the Compound, surrounded by prison cells and strangers that are family. Keeping them safe is my priority but its hard to keep my focus when she wont leave me alone. Shes too young, too innocent to be tainted by me and yet I cant keep my eyes off of her. Things get really difficult the day we return from our latest mission, and now its impossible to ignore her, but I have to keep her alive if I want any chance of corrupting her.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

Trisha Redfern is a Vampire Lawyer who works in the court of King Damien Vandolff in a post apocalyptic New York. One of Damien's most trusted inner circle members and most talented lawyers, Trisha suddenly becomes the target for all Aristocratic Vampires when she chooses to fight against one Noble Vampire, Vandal Rudolf, when he tortures a human child. Several obstacles are led in her way as Damien himself comes after her to teach her a lesson. But Trisha is determined to stand by her decision even if it costs her, her life, for she cannot abandon a heart that was once human. When all hope seems lost, unexpected help comes in the form of Lucas Donovan, the Supreme Werewolf Alpha. But everything isn't always what it seems. Why does Lucas suddenly want to help his arch enemy? Why is Vandal so determined to get the child back at all costs? And most importantly, what's so special about that child that Trisha is willing to face the wrath of her entire race in order to protect him?

Delta Hart once ran away to keep her children safe from their abusive father. However, she ended up running into the arms of a billionaire bachelor. The catch was that... he would rather work on their private army than their billion-dollar company. As the wife of the CEO, she took post as a proxy and decided to run it the way she wanted. Now that her baby daddy lurked to enact vengeance, Delta made use of everything she had gotten to get rid of him for good. It's just that her true lineage might be a big hurdle for her happily-ever-after.

I returned home after studying abroad for three years, only to find that my brother’s girlfriend had brought her entire family to live in my mansion. The moment they saw me, they pinned me against the floor. "How dare you! Call him your sweetheart, spend his money, and now you're here to take my mansion? " When I saw the girlfriend’s crazed antics, I was shocked. “Who did you say owns the mansion?” “It’s my boyfriend’s, but it’ll be mine sooner or later. It has nothing to do with you.” With her parents, she yanked off the ancient pendant on my neck and crushed my heirloom bracelet. They even tied up my limbs, put me on the table, and positioned me in a humiliating pose to post online. Her brother pinned my legs down and reached under my shirt…

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."