Game of Thrones: Holy Flame King - Chapter 110: black message

Mallory is a self-proclaimed queen of laziness who wakes up one day to find herself in a world overrun by zombies. Fortunately, her apartment seems to have a mind of its own—and it’s evolving. From providing unlimited snacks to generating electricity and even sprouting a dimensional elevator, her cozy haven keeps her safe and comfortable while others struggle to survive outside.But when her evolving apartment drags her into alternate realities, Mallory must reluctantly become the “hero” of bizarre worlds, from candy-coated kingdoms to high-tech dystopias. Armed with her magical Staff of Lazula, which lets her achieve greatness with minimal effort, Mallory stumbles into one comedic escapade after another. Whether she's outsmarting sorceresses or surviving talking gummy bears, Mallory proves that you don’t need to be a go-getter to be a hero—just really, really good at being lazy.Join Mallory and her apartment in an adventure that no one expected!

Might is truth!

Iron-blooded Prime Minister Bismarck once said: “To solve major contemporary problems, we cannot rely on speeches and parliamentary resolutions… we must rely on iron and blood.”

Qin Tian, ​​a military enthusiast, was reborn as the fifth son of William II, Prince Oscar . Originally, he just wanted to eat and wait to die, but by accident, he became the heir to the empire.

For his own life, Qin Tian had to do everything possible to let Germany win the war!

Qin Tian’s goal: “Use the German sword to obtain land for the German plow, obtain daily bread for the German people, and fight for the land under the sun for the German nation!”

After Amihan, politician by day and otaku by night, died from a political assassination, she got transmigrated as the saintess in another world. But she always felt like a fraud. Why? If she was the chosen one, why did she feel so rotten inside?Also, wasn't she atheist?However, her years of forced piety and suppressed desires ended in spectacular failure - her decapitation.Three days later, she woke to the sight of a worshiper bowing low. “Welcome back, O Sun Who Burns The World,” they said.'Wait. What? I'm not the Saintess? I was this all along?'Furious at the wasted years of celibacy, moral dilemmas, and suffocating oaths, Serafine made a vow: no more pretending. No more rules. The world? Hers to ruin. The people? Playthings.But wait. It was harder than she thought because...How in the name of the Goddess Aurelia was she supposed to have her debut when she was surrounded by a bunch of suspicious and crazy beautiful women who wants to hunt her down?!This was no different from her previous world!

“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.