Ficool

survival

Blackout Protocol

One hour vanished from Detective Marcus Kane's life. He remembers kicking down the warehouse door, then nothing but blood on his knuckles and a corpse at his feet. No witnesses. No weapon. No memory. Now he's the department's most wanted, hunted by the brothers in blue who once had his back and tormented by jagged fragments of that stolen hour, fragments showing hands that move like his but aren't under his control. Then the second body drops. Same execution. Exactly one hour after the first. Marcus isn't just a suspect. He's a loaded gun in someone else's hand, and they're pulling the trigger on a schedule. Each victim ties back to a military black site that promised to erase his war trauma, not weaponize him into something unrecognizable. They didn't just take his memories, they programmed a killer into the void. His ex-partner Sarah believes him. Barely. She's risking everything to keep him one step ahead of the manhunt, but her faith cracks with every crime scene photo proving Marcus was there. And the killer inside him is waking up more with each passing hour. The facility's files are sealed. The doctors are dead. And Marcus has seventy-three minutes until the programming kicks in again. To stop the murders, he'll have to willingly step into the blackout and hope he comes back with answers instead of more blood. But his handler isn't some faceless bureaucrat; they're someone who knows exactly how to break him, because they built him. Marcus Kane has one hour to catch a killer. The killer is him. And the puppet master has been watching from inside his own department all along.
Rhoda_Kpekot · 1.2k Views

The Ugly Duckling Of The Tiger Tribe

A prideful snake who bowed to no one—until he became a jealous husband. A snow tiger beast warrior feared and respected, reduced to an obedient husband. A wolf chief known as a Casanova, who never stayed—until he chose loyalty. And a selfish merman who learned generosity for the first time, expecting nothing in return for his prized possession. All of them changed after meeting one woman... After sniffing in an impossible scent. Her name is Arinya. …And unfortunately for this world, that’s me, haha. *** I wrote a book once. It was an unhinged fantasy born from my high-school brain, driven by loneliness and too many hormones. It was a world of beastmen, wild freedom, and the kind of romantic attention I could never get in real life. I poured every impossible desire into it: adventure, danger, and yes… a 'lot' of handsome partners. Before I knew it, I had a thousand chapters of pure escapism and pure thrill. Then on a college camping trip, I fell off a cliff. I expected to wake up in a hospital room but nope. I woke up on a soft field of grass, with air too fresh to belong anywhere on Earth. And then something moved behind me. Sticking out of my tailbone was... A tail. My tail? Yellow and black stripes and very, very real. I touched it. Completely real. My ears? Also gone—well, moved. They were now perched on top of my head like a confused jungle cat. And the outfit? Quite revealing, made of animal hide which matched my tail. What was going on? At first, I thought it was a prank. Or a dream. Or maybe karma is finally cashing in. But the more foreign memories evaded my mind, the clearer my situation became. This wasn't cosplay and it wasn't Earth, either. And—surprise—it wasn't even the world from my own book. Welp. I had been transported into a completely different Beastman world as a beast girl called Arinya. Sounds fun, right? Well… it would be, if I weren't apparently the ugliest duckling in the entire freaking savannah! Rejected by every potential mate I stumbled across and sneered at like a freaking eyesore. This was not how I planned my fantasy to come to reality. Trust me—if this is my fantasy come true, then someone needs to fire the author. But then again, after entering this world, I'm suddenly... Attractive. I mean, there's no change to my face and the freckles are still there, but for some reason, handsome beastmen begin to flock around me, wanting to be my mate because I smell... Pleasant. What's that all about?
Author_fredah · 321.3k Views

SURVIVAL: Weekly death jobs

Ethan Cole is twenty-six, broke, alone, and one missed rent payment away from losing the last place he can still call home. When a job listing with no requirements and impossible pay appears on his phone, desperation pushes him to accept without thinking. At midnight, his life is no longer his own. A system drags him into jobs that should not exist, assigns him roles no one would willingly take, and gives him one condition for survival: follow the rules. One week he is driving a truck through a desert road that lies and watches. Another, he is locking supermarket doors at the wrong second or standing under fluorescent lights while something waits on the other side of a security camera. Sometimes he bakes bread while pretending not to hear footsteps in spilled flour. Sometimes he learns that some entities remember him even after the shift ends. Surviving a job does not mean escaping it. The Weekly Occupational Job System does not allow refusal, only compliance or transfer, and every completed assignment unlocks something more invasive, more personal, and more permanent. The rules are not arbitrary. They are written in the mistakes of people who did not survive long enough to warn anyone else. As Ethan struggles to maintain a normal life in New York while spending his nights obeying instructions that defy reality, he begins to understand the truth behind the system. It is not training workers. It is conditioning survivors. And the moment you try to quit, the job follows you home.
Noxu · 2.4k Views

The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Isabella was supposed to be sipping champagne at a luxury spa, not waking up in the middle of a forest. Worse, a SYSTEM had attached itself to her like some clingy ex, spouting nonsense about survival, quests, and—oh, hell no—manual labor. "System, I was NOT built for the wilderness! My ideal ‘roughing it’ experience involves a five-star hotel with bad WiFi!" Now, instead of lounging in silk robes, she’s being ordered to farm? To hunt? "A farming quest? You want me—a city girl—to grow food? System, I once killed a cactus by overwatering it. This is NOT my calling!" And don’t even get her started on the hygiene situation. "You want me to bathe in a cold river? Darling, I require warm water, scented oils, and an ambience! What do I look like—some barbarian?!" Unfortunately, the locals—big, muscular beastmen—don’t seem to understand the concept of self-care. The women? Neglecting their skin like it’s a crime to be radiant. The men? Walking hygiene disasters. "Ladies, if your man can smell you before he sees you, we have a problem." "You see this? This is lotion. It exists so you don’t look like a dried-up leaf. Use it." "A beard should be majestic, not tragic. Let me fix it." And the beastmen? They don’t just stare at her like she’s an oddity. No, they hover. They smirk. They lean in too close, fangs flashing with amusement. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she huffed, crossing her arms. The panther grinned, his tail flicking. "Because you’re fascinating when you’re annoyed." No, absolutely not. She was not here for this nonsense. "If you have time to stare, you have time to moisturize." She didn’t ask to be here. She didn’t ask to be their savior. But if she has to suffer through this world, she’s making everyone around her suffer less—through skincare, style, and some serious attitude. "If I hear one more ‘We don’t season our food here,’ I’m launching a war." "If you have time to gossip, you have time to do squats." "You want to impress a woman? Start with not smelling like the battlefield." Survival isn’t just about fighting monsters; it’s about looking good while doing it. So what if the System keeps throwing impossible quests her way? "What do you mean ‘you can’t skip quests’?! Since when?! Where is the skip button?! I demand a skip button!" But somewhere between dodging ridiculous quests and fixing these people’s tragic grooming habits, Isabella found herself in situations. Uncomfortable, heart-racing situations. Like being trapped against a tree by the red python, his red eyes half-lidded as he murmured, "You talk too much, little star. Should I silence you?" Like waking up with the lion lord’s fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders, his deep voice gruff, "You shiver in your sleep. I’ll fix that." Like the phoenix watching her every move, his burning gaze searing into her skin as he mused, "You cause chaos wherever you go, but I find that I don’t mind." Oh, hell. No. She was not about to fall for four beastmen. She was too pretty for this much stress. "If you insult me again, I’ll make sure your soul needs a beauty upgrade." "I refuse to be disrespected by anyone who dresses like an unwashed tree branch." And yet, when a rival tribe came to challenge her, when danger lurked too close, those same beastmen stood beside her—smirking, taunting, fighting for her. "A beastman growled at me today. I growled back. He ran. I am the alpha now." Isabella isn’t just surviving. She’s thriving. And this world better keep up.
Glimmer_Giggle · 536.7k Views