These Familiars Are Strange - Chapter 213 : What are your intentions?

“I DO” → “I DIE.”Hours after marrying her longtime crush—icy CEO Nathan Jang—heiress Vanessa Belmont is stabbed, kidnapped, and left to bleed out in a wrecked car. The final insult? Watching Nathan rescue his precious childhood sweetheart (*cough* Vanessa’s killer *cough*) instead of his actual wife. So yeah. Worst. Wedding. Night. EVER.FATE REWINDSReborn six months before her murder, Vanessa upgrades her life with new rules:* Ditch the doormat era. (Badass mode: activated.)* Live for herself. (And okay, fine—revenge.)* Avoid Nathan like he’s the reason she died. (Oh, wait…)TOO BAD NATHAN 2.0 IS OBSESSEDNow he’s everywhere—lingering touches, midnight texts, and panty-melting kisses. Not to mention his hungry gaze—like she’s an all-you-can-eat buffet and he's starving.VANESSA'S SECOND CHANCE PLAN1. Don’t die. (Again.)2. Don’t fall for Nathan. (Too late.)3. Eat more carbs. (Donuts!)As for Nathan? She’ll forgive him when hell freezes over. Or when he takes off his shirt. Whichever comes first.***|***|***|***|***ASH CITY BILLIONAIRESLove is the ultimate power play.***|***|***|***|***

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.

Every author loves their story.Sure, you may get tired of writing it after quite a while, but even so; it was a novel you enjoyed writing before, no?The words you put consideration to, the effort you did research overnight.The thrill to have a reader, the thought of someone enjoyed your work.All of it was something you used to cherish, but you may end up forgetting the joy over small things one day as you move on.Everyone loves their work.But some forget they did.

All she ever desired was a better life, to be recognized and accepted. Was she wrong to ask for that?What was the point of working hard when she couldn’t even see the results or the happiness, she wanted couldn’t even be grasped by her pinky finger?Even until the day she died and left her world as a lonely spirit, she had no idea what she had done wrong or what had gone wrong.A glimmer of hope returned when she found herself in a nameless body in a completely other universe. She understood what had occurred to her because she was from the modern world.She was hoping for a startling golden finger or a celestial ability as a transmigrated person, but the heavens abandoned her yet again. She was not only a waste, but she was bound to a sad and cruel life.She accepted her fate because she couldn't resist the gods for the second time, and her cowardice cost her everything. A ray of hope flashed on her just as she feared she was about to leave this second realm as a lonely ghost.Accepting to live the remainder of her life as a regular person, she faced difficulty after obstacle until her world was broken for the third time.After two decades of being homeless and living by the rules of the day, the gods finally showed mercy and bestowed upon her the golden finger she had been dying for.Alayna, bound by a hypermarket system (supermarket), will begin her journey with one objective in mind: “TO BRING JOY TO THE WORLD.”As for how? Let us join her as she transforms from a frail middle-aged woman to a strong, cheerful, and confident woman who will spread her wings and open hypermarkets all over the world.