A land of tales.  Following the so-called bloody and monsterous big bad wolf and his life with his past.

In this writing we come across a Story Teller who tells amazing tales to his King and people, the tales are so fantastic that the people are left in awe!

In this writing we come across a Story Teller who tells amazing tales to his King and people, the tales are so fantastic that the people are left in awe!

Each time he visits the King, he is asked to tell a new tale which usually includes talking animals. The King learns lessons and so does his citizens.

On a beautiful mountain sits a beautiful city; and on the mountain's peak, sits a beautiful mansion. The mansion is occupied by an old and rich couple who are known to tell amazing stories, both true and fiction. All the kids of the city would make the climb to their abode to hear their stories; of wonder, of tragedy, of heroes, and villains. On one faithful day, at the time where the old man was ready to tell yet another tale, a kid looked over to a book. 

"So, kids, what story do you want me to tell you about?" 

"Oh! Oh! How about the one where the hero slays the dragon!" 

"Or about the great and mysterious traveling merchant!" 

"Or about the mad scientist!" 

The kids were mentioning very popular tales. These tales are all fictional, as is most of his stories. And then a lonely kid at the back raised his hand. 

"Oh! You there boy, at the back! What story do you want to be told?" 

"How about the green one on your book shelf..." 

To the kids, he looked out of place, but for the old man, his face showed happiness, and for the first time in a long time, excitement. The book in question blended in to the rest of the shelf, making the majority of people only glance; But it was said that this book gets the attention of people who are special. As soon as the book was mentioned, the old man's wife, many adults, and all the maids, stood attention; their interest can be easily seen. 

"Ah yes, this book. Pandora's Adventure, the story told, no lore unsung. You have a good eye young one, for this book is contains a tale to beat all other tales that I have told you. What's more amazing is, this is one of the very few tales that are not fiction." 

The kids were happy and excited and intently listened at the old man. The story told there was bland, and truly boring; making many of the kids tired from the first page alone. The story was quick and unfulfilling that some of the kids were furious. 

"I thought the story was cool gramps! This is such a letdown..." 

"The story was quickly made and wrongly written... but this was not true." 

The kids suddenly perked up. 

"The true story lies in only a few people, and one of those people is me. So, my children, do you want to know the true story? The true adventure?" 

The kids obviously rejoiced and agreed to the old man, as he used his magic to add mist to the air and the mist created an image. 

 

The story; long forgotten, long untold, has just begun.

Lore Unsung is a man born with a curse, a curse that brings bad omen to his life with every step he takes, dies. 

He was then sent to another world by God to repay Lore for his curse.

Lore, excited for the awesomeness that he will do, quickly agreed.

And then the opposite happens; funny, weird and/or bizarre situations ensues.

But there's an epic story in there too...i think

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This is my first shot at creating web novels so criticism is much appreciated. 

This is also but a hobby of mine so I'm sorry, but updates will be at the minimum of 1 chapter a week.

August 16, 2010, Monday, two days after his audition at the ROH Factory, is the start of Tayaw's third week in his online tutoring job. Only two weeks away from the end of his contract with the company, just in time for the start of the school term. This week, Tayaw is planning to really save as much as he can for future expenses. In his past two weeks, Tayaw had to tighten his belt to buy his laptop, guitar, digital camera, and his new IPhone4. It was a blessing that his parents already paid the deposit for his dorm, enough rent for two months. Starting this week, as arranged by him and his employer, his schedule at work will begin at 1:00 pm. Reason being is that he will start looking for a literary agent for his book in the mornings. He himself will not be enough to walk around Ouigab and other cities to look for a publishing firm for his books, if he wants to publish his books as soon as possible.
Getting up from his bed at 5:30 am, he opened his laptop and started posting notices to various job websites. After posting, he also looked up if there's an office of Writer's Guild of Teungeb in Ouigab City.  To his relief, there is. Ouigab is not only a university city, but also a hub of arts and music that is the go to place of artists and musicians from all over Teungeb, so finding a local office of the Writer's Guild of Teungeb is not surprising. Closing his laptop, he also double checked his manuscripts before shoving them in his backpack.
He already printed out the manuscripts of both pg-13 and general audiences versions of his Grimm's Fairy Tales. From his research on the internet, debut authors like him will usually get around 18000 bgc ($9000) as credit from the publishing firm, along with a 7% royalty from each book sold. Regarding the 7% royalty though, a debut author will not get a share of royalty until after the publisher earns back the credit they gave the author. In Tayaw's case, if he was able to successfully sign a deal from a publishing firm, they will give him a credit of 18000 bgc, and offer him a 7% share. He will not earn from his royalty until his fairy tales will reach a sale of 18000 bgc. The sales of the books after that will give Tayaw his 7% share.
After showering, he headed to his go to mom-and-pop restaurant for breakfast. While eating, he was checking his phone to double check the notices he put out. He also slowly mulled over the difficulty of publishing a book. Even though he has excellent works in his head, it's no use if he cannot publish them.
At 8 am, Tayaw arrived at the Writers' Guild office. It took him almost 2 hours because he also had to buy himself a card for the subway which he will use to get to the Writers' Guild Office. It was too far from his dorm that taking a cab will be foolish.  The reason he came here is to ask for a list of literary agents franchised and accredited by the Writers' Guild. After stepping through the entrance, he saw that all the tables in the office are empty except for the one closest from the entrance, occupied by a lady busy typing on her computer. 'Nelly C. Ley, Secretary' Tayaw read what was written on the glass name plate on the office lady's table. With no one else present, Tayaw headed for her.
"Good morning Ms. Ley."  Tayaw greeted the office secretary. The lady looked up from her computer screen to Tayaw, gave him a look from head to toe, curious what a kid is doing at the office. "Do I know you, young man?"
"No ma'am. But I learned of you from your name plate here." Tayaw replied. Understanding this, Ms. Ley asked "What can I do for you? Are you sure you're in the right place?"
"I'm currently looking to hire an agent for myself. I know this is the Writers' Guild, but I don't know where to look for an agent, so I came here hoping to get help to where to start looking." Tayaw replied.
The office lady raised her eyebrows at this. 'Either this young lad has written something good, or he's just too full of himself.' She thought to herself while considering entertaining Tayaw any further. Prompted by the sore feeling in her eyes, she turned off the screen of her computer to let her eyes take a break. "So, which type of writer are you?" Ms. Lei asked.
"I would consider myself an Author, ma'am. So I'm looking for an agent to help me look for a publishing firm." Tayaw replied.
"I can actually give you a list of our contracted agents right now." Ms. Lei said to Tayaw's surprise. Tayaw was about to think this was easy when he heard Ms. Lei's next words. "In exchange, let me take a look at your work. After all, I couldn't just give away names and contacts of agents if your work doesn't cut it." Tayaw found this request reasonable so he took out the envelope containing the children's' version, and handed it to the lady.
Ms. Lei opened the envelope and was disappointed at the title page "Grimm's Fairy Tales for Children – Vol. 1". Fairy tales in this world, although dime a dozen, are hard to write, and even harder to compete with the old fairy tales that already embedded themselves in the culture. She knew it was unfair of her to judge the manuscript without reading its contents, but she also knew enough that fairy tales are nigh untouched in the literary industry. With low expectations, she turned to the next page.
'THE FROG PRINCE - Long ago, when wishes often came true, there lived a King whose daughters were all handsome, but the youngest was so beautiful that the sun himself, who has seen everything, was bemused every time he shone over her because of her beauty. Near the royal castle there was a great dark wood, and in the wood under an old linden tree was a well; and when the day was hot, the King's daughter used to go forth into the wood and sit by the brink of the cool well, and if the time seemed long, she would take out a golden ball, and throw it up and catch it again, and this was her favorite pastime.'
Reading up to this point, Ms. Lei's low expectations were almost nullified by the descriptive quality of the story. In all the fairy tales she read, the fairy tales were never this descriptive using words. Most of the fairy tales she read are accompanied by pictures to set the scene of the story. Her interest piqued, she read on. As she read the story, she was again surprised with the emotion from the words, a quality she rarely found in fairy tales. Most fairy tales she read lacked the descriptive trait for emotions and the authors of those fairy tales relied on the adults who will read it to their children to put emotions into the story.
After reading the Frog Prince, she moved on to the next story, 'Cat and Mouse in Partnership'. 'Cat and Mouse in Partnership' was a story she liked better than the Frog Prince. Although it was bleaker, she found parallels of the Cat's cunning to the Mouse's naivety, with the reality of human society.
Tayaw on the other hand, just stood there, watching in amusement at Ms. Lei turning pages in silence.

A/N : Alt Title - Jack of Entertainment 

Title : Jack of Arts

Synopsis:
Tayaw is a talented musician who never got to fulfill his potential. After losing his purpose in an unfulfilled life full of regrets; he is given the chance to go back in time and do everything over again.Along with a mysterious gift and an unclear mission, Tayaw starts a new life, this time making his mark to the world.
"Tayaw is a once in a hundred years musical artist! I just wish he was born in my generation"
- Buddy Rich, two-time Gramophone Award winner
"I admit he's a good musician, but he's an author first and foremost. He is changing the world of literature for the better."
- Helena Paddington, Outcault Prize for Fiction winner, Sohlman Prize for Literature winner.
"Despite being a musician and an author, he is to me, the greatest blessing to the film industry. This is his era."
- Heo Dong-jun, two-time Academy Award winner for Best Director and three-time nominee.

"I don't like him. Why does he use actors who didn't train and grind on the stage? He says he doesn't like my acting? What the hell does the kid know about acting? I've won awards for f*cks sake!"
- Merrell Street, five-time Academy Award winner for Best Actor, three-time Toby Award winner for Best Actor.




---------------
A ground work for a novel idea in the future.
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English is not my first language so excuse my limited vocabulary and bad grammar. thanks

The world is full of countless stories, all being told at the same time.

Some are so quiet you have to strain your ears to hear them. Stories like the grocer tells to the first autumn apples as they jostle for position on his shelves. He murmurs as he polishes them with his flannel sleeve, promising to make them shine so brightly that every single apple will take a journey in a basket to be made into a pie before the sun goes down. Only a little louder is the tale that the captain's young daughter tales her rag doll in the dark of night.
She huddles in her bed, listening to the wind moan. Soon, she whispers into one rag doll ear. Soon papa will return, safe and whole. That is what the wind is saying, she promises the doll. Papa will come home again. He will not leave us. Outside, the wind continues it's endless sob and moan. But as long as her lips have the power to tell the tale, the sea captain's daughter's eyes stay dry. Then there are the tales that shout, stories that can shake the rooftops with their wonder: the tale that sweethearts tell. Most wonderful of these are the ones when both the tales and the love prove true. And there are the everyday tales, the tales that make the world go around. Stories children tell themselves so they believe they're growing up faster than is possible, tales parents tell each other as they cling together, watching their youngster's strike out on their own, tales the old folks tell them to help them remember what it felt like to be young, stories the voices of the living chant over the graves of the dead, mourning those whose storytelling days are done. 
Pick any time of the day or night and somewhere, everywhere, stories are being told. They overlap and flow across one another, then pull away again just as waves do upon a shore. It is this knack that stories have of rubbing up against one another that makes the world an interesting place, a place of greater possibility than it would be if we told our tales alone. This is impossible, of course. Make no mistake, everyone's story touches someone else's. And every brush of one life tale upon another, be it ever so gentle, creates something new: a pathway that wasn't there before. 
The possibility to create a new tale. In this story- which, as I'm sure you've already figured out, is not one but several all flowing together, parting ways only to bump into one another again- in this story, something very remarkable takes place: All paths begin and end at the door of the Winter Child.

Free- spirited Grace and serious Kai are the best of friends. They grew up together listening to magical tales spun by Kai's grandmother and sharing each other's secrets. But when they turn sixteen and Kai declares her love for Grace, everything changes. Grace yearns for freedom and slowly begins to push Kai- and their friendship away. 

Dejected Kai dreams of dazzling Snow Queen, who entices him to leave home and wander to far away lands. When Grace discovers that Kai is gone, she learns how much she lost and sets out on a magical journey to find Kai... and discover herself.

Sihwa had only seen [Watermelon] once in the live broadcast room, but she hated his domineering look a lot. It was one thing to come into the live broadcast room and only look around without giving any gifts, but what right did he have to act as if he was a lifelong mentor and point fingers at her? She felt like her unlucky streak had begun as soon as she met the person with that ID. From then on, practically nothing went well!
When she saw the ID again, she wanted to pull him out from the screen to give him a beating, then strip him of his clothes and throw him in front of the shop to show the public… However, the anonymity of the Internet made it impossible for her to do that, so she could only glare at the screen angrily.
"The host's angry look is so pretty! I feel like I need to change to a 4K monitor to make it more convenient to lick the screen!"
"Tut-tut! Every expression can be used as a wallpaper…"
[This Old Man Is Unrestrained]: "Continue! Don't stop!" *gave a hairy crab and left a message.*
Sihwa originally wanted to continue being angry––to use her glare to make [Watermelon] scared––but when she saw someone sending presents, she instantly smiled brightly.
There were also people asking her what city she was in; they could not tell from her accent, as she spoke perfect Mandarin but had the occasional weird Korean words.
She still remembered the instructions that Zhang Zian gave: she should not expose what city she was in––and even more importantly, she should not expose her specific location. Otherwise, if the Live Broadcast Platform found out, they might close her account. She did not mind that, but the problem was that, after her account was closed, the money other people gave her could no longer be retrieved.
Sihwa did not really understand why people were willing to listen to her read out fairy tales, but the reason was simple: listening to a broadcaster read fairy tales and listening to a broadcaster sing were not that all that different. In essence, the viewers still looked at the face of the host and listened to their voice. It helped, too, if the host knew how to act cute. Although she did not know how to act cute, her face and her voice were at the level that would crush any competition.
She took up a fairy tale book and cleared her throat. "What kind of fairy tale do you all want to hear?"
"I only want to hear the host speak more. Anything is fine."
"To be honest, I want to hear a horror story. I'm currently at a rest stop on the highway, so I desperately need to lift my spirits up…"
"How about The Seven Heroes and Five Gallants?"
"I want to hear **Pure… F*ck! Why is ** censored?"
For a short time, the audience's opinion was divided, but out of what the audience suggested, practically none were fairy tales––or at least none were the fairy tales she had heard of before.
[Watermelon]: "Anchor, aren't you cosplaying a mermaid? Then just read The Little Mermaid."
Sihwa did not want to acknowledge [Watermelon]. She planned on scolding him as soon as she finished broadcasting, but quite a lot of the audience supported his suggestion.
"The Little Mermaid? What book is it in?" Sihwa flipped to the contents page of the fairy tale book she was holding, but could not find that name. After all, the book she was holding was a compilation of Grimm's Fairy Tales.
[killme]: "Is the anchor acting cute? Although I have never read the story before, at least I know to find it in Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales."
[Split Second of Darkness]: "This fairy tale is quite famous, but I haven't read it before, either. I only saw the animated version by Disney, and I found it quite average."
[The Grim Reaper Is Here]: "Actually, the story itself is quite average. It's just a story about a prince and a princess, but the tragic ending is quite different from normal fairy tales."
[Sour Pineapple]: "Times have changed. Now it's no longer the prince and princess that's popular; what's popular is an overbearing CEO and a Mary Sue."
[Dragon Knight Yin Zhiping]: "I don't like Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales. All the fairy tales he writes are tragedies, like The Little Match Girl and The Little Mermaid. Why are books that are written for children written as tragedies?"
[Two Dogs]: "What the f*ck! The one who sent the bullet screen––you have the guts to say that? I saw the picture of you riding the dragon and I really wanted to tear the book at that moment!"
[Dragon Knight Yin Zhiping]: "Comical emoji!"
[Watermelon]: "Actually The Little Mermaid isn't considered a tragedy, right? I remembered that Andersen left this fairy tale open ended… He hinted that the mermaid had risen to the elfin world, which is much better than staying in the human realm with the prince and the greasy and crooked woman giving birth to a whole bunch of naughty kids, right?"
[Wind Maker]: "Haha, naughty kids must die!"
Sihwa noticed that particular bullet screen, even though it came from the ID she hated the most.
"Elfin world?" She became interested, and opened her mouth to ask, "What's with the elfin world?"
Most of the people in the live broadcast room were men, and even if they had read the fairy tale before, it did not leave a deep impression. For women, even if they had read it before, they were often more concerned with the mermaid's sad ending; they generally did not notice the 'elfin world.'
No one could answer her question, and the only person who seemed like they could answer, [Watermelon], became silent.
Horrible!
Sihwa had no other choice. She found Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales, then found The Little Mermaid from the contents page. She flipped to the corresponding page.
"It's so long! And there are so many words I don't recognize!" She quickly skimmed through it. As if she felt discouraged, she wrinkled her brow; reading that fairy tale was going to be a really big challenge.
Of course, when she wrinkled her brow, many fans took a screenshot to remember the moment.
However, [Watermelon]'s words made her very interested, and she wanted to know what the 'elfin world' was. She saw that the audience's bullet screen mentioned that The Little Mermaid was a tale regarding a mermaid, which made her care about it even more. She did not see the ending of the Korean drama with the mermaid, but at least the fairy tale definitely had an ending, right?
"All right, then I'll start reading…" She cleared her throat once again, then began to read the story out. She talked slowly, as she stumbled over many words as she read. "In the faraway sea, the water was very blue, just like the most beautiful corn… flower petals…"
When she met words she did not know, she could only read them according to the Pinyin. She cared about the reactions of the audience, so she was not entirely focused. She would pronounce a word incorrectly from time to time, or she would entirely read the wrong word, which caused the audience to send bullet screens to vent about it.
However, it was precisely because she did not read well, and some of her mistakes were very outrageous that the story felt almost like a comedy. The most important thing was that she did not pronounce the words incorrectly on purpose, and her awkward and suffering expressions nicely incited the audience's desire to vent about her pronunciation. The bullet screen comments were very close together, and there were often people sending gifts.
Her timbre was beautiful––like the surging of clear spring water; like the dripping of water onto stones; like the rustling of tree leaves; and like the echoes of the tides––and her vocal range was shockingly large. No matter how picky a person was, they would not be able to find a problem with it.
Someone with that kind of voice and that kind of looks reading a fairy tale was enticing. She often made the audience members unable to control their smiles. Even if it was the morning with very little people watching live broadcasts, there were still a lot of people coming to her room from other live broadcast rooms.
She was unknowingly immersed in the fairy tale and did not notice that her number of fans was quickly increasing. As she was very concentrated, she got into the character of the female lead in the story. Although she often read words incorrectly, her voice already had emotions, unlike the emotionless and energy lacking voice she had at the start.


1. Download a suspicious game
2. Catch a few magical pets as partners
3. Go through interesting daily routines and lead the pet shop to a whole new level

Endless stories are told around the world. All day, every day, there's always a new story to be told, and a new tale to be heard. Maybe it's not new, but at least you haven't heard it yet. These stories can be boring or entertaining. Long or short. Some stories paint a vivid description of its events. Some are bland with depictions, and leave the imagery to the imagination. With an infinite amount of events occurring constantly, and an infinite amount of words being combined in an infinite amount of ways, there truly is an indefinite amount of stories. These stories can be happy, sad, and they can make you feel many other emotions as well. These stories are often so popular, they're bought and sold like commoddities. Because if the story is good enough, it becomes one. Straying away from published works, stories are often shared by word of mouth, and received by ear. These stories could be random juicy tidbits about the people in your neighborhood, like "Oh, did you hear that Mr. Kayaba is divorcing his wife", but they can also be more immature but exciting stories like "Supposedly, if you head to the cafe at night, you can see a ghost if you stare behind the counter long enough". These are the most common, and are always being spread. Almost like a virus. Day in and day out, short little tales and anecdotes like that about anything and everything make their way through the air. These are the most common, and you've likely caught wind of them- or something similar. These often overlooked, but never missed stories. However. Most of those stories are false. Stories that didn't happen.
Wives' tales.
Rumors.
Street gossip.
Local legends.
All of which are never true. Their only purpose is to deceive. These rumors are made up by people who have boring lives, to make life less boring. Maybe, if enough people hear about this, they'll start to believe it is a common thought process. These lies, passed as tales, are made up. Entirely fabricated. They exist  for nothing more than to be spread. That is what they're for. Perhaps the nature of all stories is to be told, but there are some stories which are not to be told.
     If something remotely odd happens in a small uneventful town, the account of that will be twisted, until it becomes a lie that sounds real enough to believed and interesting enough to resonate on the tongues of the townsfolk, and sent out to pollute the town. Those townspeople received news of a shocking discovery, but in reality, what they've heard is far from the truth, and what they got was a lie disguised as a story whose only purpose is to be spread.
Who cares if it's a lie? If the only purpose of the story is to be told, then what's so bad about it if it is?
If the truth to the story was never augmented, then whatever. But this is a lie. False information. Events that did not occur. When such a thing is created and spread, the intention is for it to reach as many people as possible. Who's to say that the lie can't become the truth?
If that half baked false account starts to be believed by everyone, does that make it the truth? Does it make it their truth? Does a lie which is perceived as true by all become close enough to the truth to be passed as the truth? If the truth isn't evident, why not just pick something and decide that that's the truth?
The truth is always undefined, uncertain.
If you stubbed your toe walking down the street, but ten people who saw you walking down the street say that you didn't stub your toe, does the truth shift? Does the truth bend to majority?
Reality and the truth are assumed to be one, or the same. They're often used as synonyms for each other. But reality is real. It's what actually happened, is happening, and will happen. The truth is what is believed to have happened, what is believed to be happening, and what is believed will happen in the future. The truth is often far from reality. And this is a scary thing.
What you know to be true, what you know is a fact, could be a lie. Conversely, what you know to be a lie, a fabrication, may be the truth. But applying the ideology that the truth can be decided using the imagination of a group and a vote, the truth and a lie are the same. But what's separate from all that, is reality.
This story, unlike most tales, is reality, and the truth. This story actually happened, and was agreed upon by all who know of it to have happened. The purpose of all tales, true or not, is to be told. It could be argued, however, that this tale is one not meant to be told. It's one that might be better kept a secret between those aware of it. But a debate of whether a story should be told or not is just as agitating as discerning the truth from a mix of reality and lies. Reality(or maybe not reality), truth, and lies, they could be the same. Whether or not a tale is meant to be told, or it should be told, might not matter in the end. It might all be the same.
But, this story, which undoubtedly happened, shouldn't have happened. And that's different.

Our shut-in protagonist begins his plans for spring break: avoid everyone and stay inside reading. Perfect plan, except for when the time he has to leave his house comes. By chance he stays out a bit too late, by chance he takes a tiny detour, by chance he encounters a strange woman, and by chance he remembers what he dismissed over the phone earlier- rumors of a vampire attacking late at night. The unfortunate series of wrong turns made by our protagonist gets even worse, when the encounter with the mysterious woman goes wrong; not that it could have gone right.

I reached out and grabbed Min's shaft, my hand working steadily up and down his cock. It was warm and hard between my fingers, and I loved the elasticity and feel. Well, I had created this cock myself with the help of Pratter and Sandor. This cock would feel exactly the way I wanted it to feel, and I made it feel exactly to my tastes. Just imaging the hard thing plunging into me already excited me. It was big, but not too big. It was hard, but no too hard. It was the perfect dick for my pussy. 
"You know, Min, I've been thinking a bit." I sighed as my fingers worked over his cock. 
"Mm? Vesse?" Min asked cautiously. 
I moved myself, swinging my leg up over Min and mounting him. His perfect cock was now sticking right up under my pussy, waiting to impale me. I lowered my hips until just the head touched, but didn't slam it home. Instead, I teased the top of his cock with my pussy, squatting just enough so that it touched me, but didn't penetrate. A wet strain of lust, although I couldn't tell if it was his or mine, reached from his cock tip to my pussy lips. It was a visible conformation of how perfect our parts fit together. 
"I realized…" I continued. "That a lot of people don't tend to read author's notes and thus don't know any information about this story." 
"Re-really?" Min was breathing hard, the teasing being too much for him, especially as I started playing with his nipples, on top of two clearly feminine mounds.
"Mm… so I reckon a lot of readers don't know a lot of important details about my Tales as a Seductress." I sigh, squeezing his nipples tightly in the way he liked and eliciting a pleasing gasp. 
"Such as?" Min's face scrunched, fighting the pleasure my body was giving him. 
"For example, this story had already been out in entirety on machineslicedbread.xyz for over a year, and it is also the location of many of the writer's other erotic stories." 
"Vesse sell readers short, most know that." Min blushed. 
I finally dropped my hips down, letting that perfect cock slam into me. The warmth of it slid deep into my womb, and the feel was incredible enough my pussy trembled slightly in a mini-orgasm. That's what I got for being so teasing. In the end, I was the one who was most aroused. However, Min was flushed and breathing hard as well, so clearly it was doing it for him. 
"I'm not so sure they're aware of the blog whatsawhizzer.wordpress.com, where the author translated Arifureta, wrote Requiem to the Stars and Time and Place, and don't even get me started on his continuing series, Power of Creation and the World of Women, two very erotic and very different novels. Both have completed volumes that can be downloaded for free for all ******* supporters." 
"Of course, Vesse… aaaaa… it's tight." 
"Mmm, I'm not tight. Min is just too big." I tease as I rise my hips up and down, feeling his cock slid up and down inside me. "Either way, ******* support gets people early access to released chapters, full colored illustrations, re-edited pdfs, and some exclusive patreon-only content."
"Most reader, only want Tales…" Min shrugged, his mouth open as he panted in pleasure. 
"Ah, it's because they want to see me fucking my sexy wife." I chuckle, picking up the pace until each time my hips drop I can hear the wet sound of it sliding in. 
"Ahnn… t-tease!" Min cried out. "T-tell them… important things about tales." 
"Ah… I guess I should tell them some things. For example, this next chapter will be the last chapter of Tales of a Seductress." 
Min gasps. "Th-then, no more us?" 
I chuckle. "Of course not. Naturally, my Min and I will return in the sequel, Tales of an Enchantress. A story currently being written and released on machineslicedbread.xyz." 
"Ho-how many chapters so far?" 
"Nearly 50! Ahh… Min, right there… move your hips, ahhhh… right there!" I let out a cry as he started to hit me in the right spot.
He thrust his hips up into me roughly and a moment later I started cumming. 
As I panted and moaned, my devilish Min kept up the thrusting past my tolerance. I could barely talk, my voice coming out in a panting high-pitched moan. "Ahh… I can't get enough of Min! If readers want… want Min too… they should know about Min's story, a-a- a – aaahhhhh… a short side series following Min's origin and point of view through Tales of a Seductress!" 
"Vesse, C-cumming!" 
"Cum! Cum in me, Min!" I shouted lustfully, my tits bouncing up and down as I rode him as hard as I could. 
"I-is that all Vesse say?" Min demanded, his eyes flashing mischievously. 
"No… I have more… oh.. it's too good, you're driving me crazy with your cock, I can't stop cumming!" I cry out, my mind turning to mush. 
"Must say it or Min won't stop!" 
"Ahn… Mi-min is teasing too much, I'm really going crazy, but it's the most important part!" I cry out as I pant, erotic explosions shooting through my body as I leak all over Min's cock, my pussy clamping down in perpetually orgasm as Min penetrates me over and over again. "Next month will signify the official release of Tales of a Seductress the pdf. It includes this complete book, edited and formatted for ease of reading in a phone friendly pdf. It costs $5 to buy the book or it is free for all ******* supporters of $1 or more! Inkstone doesn't even allow simple bold and italics formatting, so it's a much different experience on pdf." 
"But what about future release!" Min demands just as he grabs my ass tightly, pulling it down until he penetrates me at the maximum level. 
A moment later I feel gobs of warm stuff shoot into me. It was Min's lust, magically converted into semen. It started filling up my womb, and for a second my eyes rolled up in my head. Min had to pinch my thigh before I could focus again. 
"Un… I feel it! I feel Min inside me!" I cried until he pinched even harder and I shook out of it. "Tales was released on inkstone to drive up interest for the pdf. Its sales success will dictate how quickly Tales of an Enchantress is finished and ultimately whether it's worth the author's time to release it on inkstone at all."
"So, if they don't pay, he stop writing? What Bastard!" 
"No, Min… ahn… it's so warm, I can feel it growing soft…" I relaxed, finally regaining my faculties. "Tales of an Enchantress already has 40 chapters out and will continue to release on machinslicedbread.xyz no matter what. However, if you want to read the completed book as a pdf, if you want to see TOAE and Min's story released on inkstone, or if you want TOAE increased in release speed (right now, it's been about twice a month), then you might want to consider dropping $1-$5 to support the author. He has many writing responsibilities, and so TOAS must prove to be financially worth his time."
With that, I lean over and take Min's lips, tasting my sweet and beautiful wife. Our tongues combine for a few minutes while our sweaty bodies heave against each other, the sweet smell of sex wafting from the pair of us. When we finally separated, Min gave a coquettish smile. 
"Basically, author greedy, want money?" Min summarized. 
"Exactly…" 
"…" 
"So, the TOAS pdf will release on 11/14/18. ******* supporters will not only get that book, but access to all other ******* content including previous finished pdfs. ******* will have various fundraising goals dictating whether TOAE will be released on Inkstone (Raise $100, TOAE once a week), Whether TOAE will pick up releases to twice a week ($200), or three times a week ($300). Basically, if there is a total of $300 increase in ******* and paypal pdf purchases between 11/7/18 and 12/1/18 (that's just 60 people buying TOAS at its retail price guys), then you will get the max releases of TOAE until this book is finished. Please support the release at *******.com/whatsawhizzer or visit the TOAS Table of Contents on Machineslicedbread.xyz to buy directly." 
"Sound good. What next?" 
"How about we start the Epilogue to Tales of a Seductress. Enjoy!"

After an unfortunate mishap with some stairs, I found myself in a fantasy world filled with sex and violence. Stripped of everything and turned into breeding stock by the first band of goblins I encountered, I turned to the only weapon I had available to me. Now, I’m a seductress, the first and only RPG class that weaponizes the art of seduction. I will survive this new and dangerous world the only way I know how: one person at a time.

The day don't start for bard until to sing the tale of heroes who save the city he currently living.
For a bard who tell the story of the heroes, the act of telling the story is way of appreciation for the heroes.
But it look like he have to stop telling this tale for the hero who he admire started slaughtering every single person who he told the tales of heroic act of the hero .in.front.of.him.
The bard started to cry out genuine grief but hero didn't show a hint of sympathy nor sadness after killing a dozen of "people".
"Why...why do this , why ruin..." the bard said but before the bard complete his sentence
the hero pointed at the bard.
"YOU EVIL CREATURE WILL FACE MY BLADE!"
the hero shouted as she charge to the bard,
He sigh for the foolishness of the hero.
A rather deep and heavy voice come out in contrast to the cheery voice when he is telling the tales of heroes, "Why ruin my story? little hero"
The hero ignore the question of the bard
and continue striking the bard but to no avail. 
The crowed who once been slice to pieces back come to life and join the battle between the hero and the bard
"Wha-what!?" the hero was surprise and got distracted
The bard manage to escape, the hero curse the bard as she struggle to defend herself in the swarm of "people"
"Well the hero may kill my audience but I shall keep telling the wonderful story of the heroes"
the bard said it as he said in the most excited tone
And thus the day of the bard ended with the bard needed to find other place to tell his tales




Shirazad remembered her father and she still couldn't believe he was gone. He would often joke with her and tease her. Sometimes he would say,

"How inexplicable. It seems all the wisdom in our family had been passed down to Dunyazad." She wasn't mad at him for this.

Shirazad wasn't offended by such cutting remarks. The way she replied to her father was no less cutting. Sometimes it seemed it was just a competition between the two who would be wittier. She sighed. Actually, back at the time, maybe she had been mad at him, maybe she had been quite angry, but now it was such a nice memory.

***

Two weeks had passed in which Shirazad had discovered that she seemed to tell her tales quite quickly... The thought that she would soon be exhausted, which had crossed Shahryar's mind earlier, now struck her as well... How long would she be able to do that? Nights were long... Tiring too, because she had to sleep during the day and to think of new tales as well. As for Shahryar – he listened to her at night and he was committed to his duties during the day. It seemed he was awake all the time. Maybe he couldn't sleep.

"I'd be surprised if he could", she thought. "His consciousness keeps him awake."

She sat on the bed. Back when she'd been at home, she actually liked to spend time alone, reading, drawing, and sometimes telling tales to her friends. But now she really wasn't in mood to stay inside, maybe because she had been forbidden from leaving the palace and so it seemed just like a big jail. Whether a jail was big or small was of no importance as long as it was a jail. But she was not the kind of person to easily fall into despair; her mind was free, though the palace might be a jail. 

The king had expected that Shirazad would be rebellious, spoiled and argumentative (he'd heard some things about her...), but so far she was quiet and kept a low profile, which was surprising. 

As for her, there was one part of her life which she sort of liked... finally, she was no longer surrounded by men everywhere she went. There was a peculiar sense of freedom she felt... Well, she was still confined to the palace.

Her sister had been left alone in their manor, which was surrounded by guards sent by the king.

At least, Dunyazad was allowed to visit her. But Shirazad warned her not to come too often – for who could know what would come next on Shahryar's whim? Shirazad had survived for two weeks. Was this a relief? Or it just made her feel even tenser?

She had to come up with more new stories. Her sister asked her once,

"Do you invent the stories you will tell the king in advance?"

"To some extent," she said. "I can't plan everything. Moreover, I used to tell my stories to friends and children, who were very curious. They always asked me questions about the characters and what would happen next, and so they helped me create the story. But the king, he is silent all the time. I can't even understand whether he finds the story interesting. Now I feel like I've reached a part of the story where I don't know how to continue." She sighed, "I no longer feel inspired to continue the same story. I also feel worried that without inspiration, the story would be boring. Did I lose connection with the character? Or maybe it's because I think the king doesn't like the story? Maybe I should add a character he likes?"

"I think it's because your feelings have changed, Shira. You used to be very talkative and often excited, but now you are worried and quiet. It has been just a short while but I can feel the difference. I know the story you're telling the king now. I dare say you were very much like the main character in this story. She is mischievous and impatient. But now you've become more reserved and you've started to question her behavior as well. Maybe you can just finish this tale and start a new one that fits your current mood?"

Shirazad nodded,

"I will try." She sent Dunyazad to the main gate.

"Shirazad, I am starting to think that you shouldn't worry that much. Even though the situation is like that, Shahryar left you alive. So maybe... he doesn't want to kill you?"

"You shouldn't say that."

It had been only two weeks. Two weeks. And the king had even skipped two nights because he was soon going to travel so he had to prepare himself. Still, the task of telling fairy-tales seemed so difficult. The king was very cold and quiet, and it was difficult to guess his thoughts.

Smart, beautiful and rich, Scheherazade has only one problem: she is convinced that she can handle every troublesome situation, but can she?

Her name Shirazad means "lion-born" but people in town soon start to call her "Scheherazade" meaning "whose realm is noble". Confined to the palace, she is far away from what is happening in town. While she is deeply touched by the fact that people have romanticized her and her fairy tales, she still doesn't understand the true meaning of this epithet... She will be forced to outgrow her spoiled ways and accept responsibility. Maybe she will even attract the king's attention. But... when you win such a person's admiration or love, it could be worse than if he hates you... ***A retelling of "One thousand and one nights"

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