Cage Trope Manga

it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Cinder practiced until her muscles screamed. New flips. Higher jumps. More fire. She pushed herself until she collapsed, panting, ears ringing. It didn’t matter. The crowds kept shrinking. The other performers stopped meeting her eyes. The vendors no longer offered her treats. The strongman walked past her without a word. She was invisible. One night, she overheard the Ringmaster talking outside her wagon. "The new performer arrives next week. Finally, we’ll have a real star again." "What about Cinder?" someone asked. "What about her? She’s done. Once the new act is settled, she’s out." Cinder pressed her back against the wall of her wagon, heart pounding. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Out. Replaceable. Done. She looked around her "room"—if you could call it that. A cramped wagon with iron bars on the windows. A thin mattress on the floor. A cracked mirror. The door locked from the outside every night "for her safety." She’d never noticed before how much it looked like a cage.
a unpopular nerd boy gets sucked into a school trip with the four most popular boys in school
**Panel 1:** Shy girl with long hair holding books walking under cherry blossom trees at school **Panel 2:** Girl bumps into tall boy with dark hair, books falling, pink petals floating around them **Panel 3:** Close-up of their hands touching while reaching for the same book on the ground **Panel 4:** Both standing and blushing while looking away from each other, cherry blossoms falling
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
Chapter 1: The Day We Met The sun rose over the Hidden Leaf Village, casting golden light across the rooftops and the stone faces of the Hokage Monument. Birds chirped lazily, and the academy courtyard buzzed with anticipation. Today was the first day of training for the newest class of shinobi — and among them were three who would one day change everything. Shawn stood beneath a tree at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd. His dreadlocks hung low, swaying slightly in the breeze. He wore a dark cloak and a white fox mask clipped to his belt. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His presence was quiet, but heavy — like gravity itself bent around him. Jaden was already moving. He flipped a kunai between his fingers, sharp eyes darting from student to student. His hair was spiky and wild, and his shirt bore a red flame spiral emblem. One eye shimmered faintly red — a flicker of the Sharingan, maybe. The other was pale, unreadable. He smirked, confident and restless. Then came Isaiah. He arrived late, walking through the academy gates with a slow, deliberate stride. A hood shadowed his face, but the scar over his left eye was unmistakable. He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. His chakra felt… different. Like something ancient was buried inside him, waiting. The instructor stepped forward, voice firm. “Line up! Today marks the beginning of your journey. You’ll train, you’ll fight, and if you survive — you’ll become shinobi of the Hidden Leaf.” The students scrambled into formation. Shawn, Jaden, and Isaiah ended up side by side, silent. They didn’t speak. But something passed between them — a flicker of recognition, a sense of connection. Like their fates were already tangled. None of them knew it yet, but deep inside each of them, something was stirring. A seal. A beast. A mutation. A destiny. And so, the story began.
it needs to be in color Cinder practiced until her muscles screamed. New flips. Higher jumps. More fire. She pushed herself until she collapsed, panting, ears ringing. It didn’t matter. The crowds kept shrinking. The other performers stopped meeting her eyes. The vendors no longer offered her treats. The strongman walked past her without a word. She was invisible. One night, she overheard the Ringmaster talking outside her wagon. "The new performer arrives next week. Finally, we’ll have a real star again." "What about Cinder?" someone asked. "What about her? She’s done. Once the new act is settled, she’s out." Cinder pressed her back against the wall of her wagon, heart pounding. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Out. Replaceable. Done. She looked around her "room"—if you could call it that. A cramped wagon with iron bars on the windows. A thin mattress on the floor. A cracked mirror. The door locked from the outside every night "for her safety." She’d never noticed before how much it looked like a cage.
it needs to be in color Cinder practiced until her muscles screamed. New flips. Higher jumps. More fire. She pushed herself until she collapsed, panting, ears ringing. It didn’t matter. The crowds kept shrinking. The other performers stopped meeting her eyes. The vendors no longer offered her treats. The strongman walked past her without a word. She was invisible. One night, she overheard the Ringmaster talking outside her wagon. "The new performer arrives next week. Finally, we’ll have a real star again." "What about Cinder?" someone asked. "What about her? She’s done. Once the new act is settled, she’s out." Cinder pressed her back against the wall of her wagon, heart pounding. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Out. Replaceable. Done. She looked around her "room"—if you could call it that. A cramped wagon with iron bars on the windows. A thin mattress on the floor. A cracked mirror. The door locked from the outside every night "for her safety." She’d never noticed before how much it looked like a cage.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Cinder practiced until her muscles screamed. New flips. Higher jumps. More fire. She pushed herself until she collapsed, panting, ears ringing. It didn’t matter. The crowds kept shrinking. The other performers stopped meeting her eyes. The vendors no longer offered her treats. The strongman walked past her without a word. She was invisible. One night, she overheard the Ringmaster talking outside her wagon. "The new performer arrives next week. Finally, we’ll have a real star again." "What about Cinder?" someone asked. "What about her? She’s done. Once the new act is settled, she’s out." Cinder pressed her back against the wall of her wagon, heart pounding. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Out. Replaceable. Done. She looked around her "room"—if you could call it that. A cramped wagon with iron bars on the windows. A thin mattress on the floor. A cracked mirror. The door locked from the outside every night "for her safety." She’d never noticed before how much it looked like a cage.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
Blair is a young warrior in his mid 20s with a short beard and a short mustache. He has short brown hair and is 5'7. Lilith is the demon of lust, crimson skin with horns, demonic wings and sharp claws. Lilith has glowing crimson eyes. The story continues as Blair kneels before Lilith who is now twice his height. She summons a mirror in front of them both as she stands behind Blair, who can see their height difference. She proceeds to taunt him, reminding him that she owns him now. Lilith proceeds to lift up one leg and place her foot on top of Blair's head as they stand in front of the mirror, commanding him to kneel and reflect on my status as a man which Blair does.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep? The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights. She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull. "I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness. The lantern flickered. And then—movement outside her window. A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight. Cinder sat up, ears perking. The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain. Her heart skipped. Who—? The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair. Curiosity.
Shy girl with long hair holding books walking under cherry blossom trees at school Girl bumps into tall boy with dark hair, books falling, pink petals floating around them Close-up of their hands touching while reaching for the same book on the ground Both standing and blushing while looking away from each other, cherry blossoms falling
In an era where six Supremes mark the absolute ceiling of existence, the world moves under a quiet, grinding tension: five Supremes stand revealed, anchoring nations, deterring wars, and defining the limits of power, while the sixth vanished long ago without death, omen, or echo, leaving behind not silence but a sense of deliberate containment that only beings at that level can feel; kingdoms ring their borders with alliances and naval forces, especially along the eastern ocean where island chains hide ancient mana scars, academies promote Gifted through rigid ranks obsessed with combat metrics and measurable mana, blind to the truth that Supremacy is not earned but survived, and above it all walks the MC, a Supreme who abandoned the system itself after realizing it was not a ladder but a cage, designed after the disappearance to prevent another from breaking reality the way the missing one nearly did; as nations posture, research forbidden spells, and quietly fear escalation, the MC senses what others refuse to name, that the missing Supreme did not fall or transcend but uncovered something beyond Supremacy and chose exile or imprisonment to stop it from cascading, making the current balance an illusion sustained by fear and ignorance, and as cracks spread through mana laws, island anomalies stir, and Supreme senses begin to distort, the story moves toward an inevitable convergence where the MC, the vanished Supreme, and the system meant to bind them are forced into collision, deciding whether the world remains stable, ascends, or shatters under the weight of truths it was never meant to hold.
🖤 PLANCHE 2 — Essayer de lire Âge d’Aris : 7–8 ans Style : manga noir et blanc, fantasy médiévale Ambiance : tension silencieuse, maladresse enfantine Nombre de cases : 6 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Rue étroite de la grande ville. Murs en pierre couverts d’affiches écrites. Aris, enfant de 7–8 ans, marche lentement le long du mur. Aris (tenue) : haut type kimono simple, blanc à l’origine, très sale, trop grand manches trop longues pantalon large déchiré, trop long pieds nus, sales Il lève la tête vers les affiches, trop hautes pour lui. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (mur) Description visuelle : Une affiche abîmée, pleine de texte serré. Les lettres sont petites, complexes, irrégulières. Certaines parties sont déchirées ou effacées. Ambiance : Incompréhensible pour un enfant. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (Aris) Description visuelle : Aris se met sur la pointe des pieds pour lire. Son visage est concentré mais perdu. Bouche entrouverte, sourcils froncés. Texte (très petit, hésitant) : « m… a… » 🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (main) Description visuelle : Le doigt d’Aris suit une ligne de texte… puis glisse, se trompe, s’arrête au mauvais endroit. Ambiance : Échec immédiat, maladresse. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Aris baisse la tête. Ses épaules retombent. Les affiches restent là, immobiles, au-dessus de lui. Ambiance : Frustration silencieuse, incompréhension. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE Description visuelle : Aris s’éloigne du mur. Il est petit dans la rue, dos voûté. Les affiches sont derrière lui. Ambiance : Il n’a pas appris. Il essaiera encore. Texte : Aucun. 🔒 RAPPEL CANON (à ne plus changer) Aris 7–8 ans tenue kimono blanc sale, pantalon déchiré pieds nus aucune réussite, aucun progrès juste l’envie et l’échec
🖤 PLANCHE 4 — Les livres qu’on jette Âge d’Aris : 15 ans Style : manga noir et blanc, seinen classique Ambiance : nuit, pluie fine, indifférence Nombre de cases : 6 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN LARGE (haut de page) Description visuelle : Bâtiment massif et austère : une académie. Architecture noble, propre, éclairée de l’intérieur. À l’arrière, une ruelle sombre. Ambiance : Savoir à l’abri. Rue froide derrière. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Derrière l’académie. Caisses en bois renversées. Des livres jetés, abîmés, mouillés par la pluie. Des pages collées par la boue. Ambiance : Mépris silencieux. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN MOYEN (Aris) Description visuelle : Aris, 15 ans, maigre, vêtements usés, trop grands. Il s’approche prudemment des caisses. Il regarde autour de lui, comme s’il n’avait pas le droit d’être là. Ambiance : Habitude de la honte. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (mains) Description visuelle : Les mains d’Aris fouillent parmi les livres. Certains sont trop mouillés. Certains déchirés. Il en écarte plusieurs. Ambiance : Tri lent, méthodique. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (objet) Description visuelle : Un livre plus épais, plus ancien. Couverture noire, sans titre apparent. Moins abîmé que les autres. Pas de symbole. Pas de lueur. Rien de magique. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE Description visuelle : Aris tient le livre contre lui, sous la pluie. Son visage est neutre. Juste une décision simple. Texte (petite bulle, très discrète) : « Celui-là… » 🎯 INTENTION (IMPORTANT POUR MANGAAI) Aris ne cherche pas la magie Il cherche à lire Le grimoire n’est pas présenté comme spécial L’académie jette → Aris récupère Aucun effet surnaturel à ce stade
Tassi Hangbé, la reine rossignol Sœur jumelle du roi Akaba, Tassi Hangbé, un peu oubliée par l’histoire, est la 5ème reine de la dynastie royale d’Abomey. Littéralement le nom hangbé signifie “la voix de la chanson” en langue fon d’Abomey. Depuis son enfance, celle qui n’était encore qu’une princesse du royaume avait pour passion la musique et chantait remarquablement bien. Avec ses belles chansons, elle égayait chaque soir les réunions entre son père et ses frères. L’histoire révèle même que les soirs où elle était absente, le roi et ses frères envoyaient des serviteurs l’appeler car ne pouvant se passer des douces mélodies de la princesse à qui le sobriquet ” hangbé ” fut donné. Cette appellation deviendra plus tard son nom officiel dans tout le royaume. La gouvernance de la reine Hangbé En 1708, alors que le roi Akaba meurt des suites d’une courte maladie pendant la guerre, sa sœur Tassi Hangbé présente à ses côtés décide de de garder le secret de sa mort pour ne pas démoraliser les troupes. Déguisée en son frère, elle prend le commandement de l’armée et mène les combats jusqu’à la victoire finale à Lissèzoun, où elle vainc le royaume de Wémè. À son retour à Abomey, le fils d’Akaba étant encore trop jeune pour régner, c’est Hangbé qui prend les rênes du royaume du Danxomè. Bien qu’aucune cérémonie officielle n’ait eu lieu, elle portait tous les symboles du pouvoir royal : les sandales sacrées (saloubata), le grand pagne décoré (avotita), la récade (mankpo). Reconnue et respectée comme souveraine, elle était toujours accompagnée du siège et du parasol royal. Elle recevait de tous le respect dû à son rang mais les réalités phallocratiques du royaume n’ont pas tardé à la rattraper. Le règne d’une femme dérangeait dans un contexte fortement dominé par les hommes. Au palais comme dans le reste du royaume, certains hommes manifestaient ouvertement leur indignation à l’idée de laisser une femme sur le trône de Houégbadja. Subissant complots et tensions familiales, qui lui coûtent notamment l’annulation de son mariage et la perte de deux fils, Hangbè finit par céder le pouvoir à son frère Dossou, intronisé en 1711 sous le nom d’Agadja. Malgré son règne très court, Tassi Hangbé reste une figure majeure de l’histoire du Danxomè. Proche de son peuple, attachée à la religion et aux arts, elle a surtout marqué son époque en mettant en valeur le rôle des femmes, notamment par la création du corps des Amazones, un héritage restructuré et renforcé par la suite plus tard par le roi Ghézo. Le combat féministe de la mère des amazones Selon Damien Mariano Agliti, guide à l’Office de tourisme de la région d’Abomey, « Tassi Hangbé a pris cette initiative pour donner une véritable place aux femmes au sein du royaume ». Son influence ne s’est pas arrêtée à ses quatre années de règne. Même après avoir quitté le trône, Nan Hangbé est restée une haute dignitaire respectée, intervenant activement dans les affaires du royaume — notamment lorsqu’elle s’opposa à son frère qui refusa de retourner le pouvoir au fils d’Akaba une fois celui-ci en âge de régner.Elle a aussi joué un rôle clé dans la reconnaissance des femmes dignitaires, appelées Tassi, facilement identifiables grâce à leurs pagnes souvent posés sur la tête. Aujourd’hui encore, à Abomey, une femme perpétue la tradition de la reine guerrière : elle occupe le trône de Tassi Hangbé, dirige les cultes annuels et veille sur les affaires de la collectivité Hangbé
🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (papier) Description visuelle : Le papier qu’Aris tient. Les mots sont cassés, mal alignés, incomplets. Exemples visibles (pas tous lisibles) : « mar… ché » « pa—n » « in… ter… dit » Certaines lettres sont effacées, d’autres mangées par le papier. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — GROS PLAN VISAGE Description visuelle : Visage d’Aris enfant, très proche. Sourcils froncés. Bouche légèrement entrouverte. Ses yeux reviennent en arrière, comme s’il relisait. Texte (toute petite bulle) : « ma… » 🟦 CASE 3 — DÉTAIL (doigt) Description visuelle : Le doigt d’Aris suit la ligne sur le papier. Il s’est arrêté au milieu d’un mot. Le doigt tremble légèrement. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 4 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Aris assis contre le mur. Il tient le papier trop près de son visage. Son corps est tendu, pas détendu. Ambiance : Effort. Fatigue mentale. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (papier à nouveau) Description visuelle : Le même mot que case 1… Mais cette fois, une syllabe est entourée, comme s’il avait compris une partie. Exemple : « mar… ché » Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE (transition) Description visuelle : Aris baisse légèrement le papier. Son regard est toujours sérieux… mais un peu moins perdu que dans les premières cases. Ambiance : Pas de victoire. Juste : ça commence à rentrer. Texte : Aucun. 🎯 INTENTION (pour MangaAI) Montrer l’effort, pas la réussite Lecture lente, pénible Aucun effet magique Aucun sourire Le progrès est minuscule, presque invisible
🖤 PLANCHE 4 — Les livres qu’on jette Âge d’Aris : 15 ans Style : manga noir et blanc Ambiance : nuit, pluie fine, indifférence Nombre de cases : 6 Tenue (inchangée, canon) : haut type kimono simple, blanc à l’origine, très sale, rapiécé pantalon large déchiré pieds nus silhouette maigre, posture fermée aucun élément moderne 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN LARGE (haut de page) Description visuelle : Bâtiment imposant : une académie. Façade noble, fenêtres éclairées. La pluie tombe doucement. À l’arrière, une ruelle sombre. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN MOYEN (arrière de l’académie) Description visuelle : Caisses en bois renversées. Livres jetés au sol. Pages mouillées, couvertures abîmées, boue. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN MOYEN (Aris) Description visuelle : Aris, 15 ans, s’accroupit près des livres. Il regarde autour de lui, par réflexe. Personne. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (mains) Description visuelle : Ses mains fouillent lentement. Il écarte : un livre trop mouillé un autre déchiré Gestes calmes, méthodiques. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (objet) Description visuelle : Un livre plus épais, ancien. Couverture noire, sans titre visible. Moins abîmé que les autres. Aucun symbole. Aucune lueur. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE Description visuelle : Aris serre le livre contre lui, sous la pluie. Son visage est neutre. Décision simple. Texte (petite bulle) : Aris récupère ce que le monde abandonne renforce le caractère obstiné d’Aris aucune victoire
🖤 PLANCHE 1 — Aris, orphelin Style : manga noir et blanc Ambiance : sombre, froide, indifférente Nombre de cases : 7 (rythme lent, oppression) 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN LARGE (pleine largeur en haut) Description visuelle : Grande ville médiévale vue en plongée. Tours hautes, murs en pierre, rues étroites. Beaucoup de bâtiments, peu de ciel. La ville paraît massive, écrasante. Ambiance : Froide, impersonnelle. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Rue étroite. Des passants bien habillés marchent vite. Au bord du cadre, Aris enfant, maigre, sale, assis contre un mur. Aris enfant : Vêtements trop grands, usés. Cheveux en bataille. Regard baissé. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (mains) Description visuelle : Les mains d’Aris tendues. Sales, tremblantes. Une seule petite pièce dans la paume. Texte (petite bulle, très simple) : « S’il vous plaît… » 🟦 CASE 4 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Un adulte passe sans regarder Aris. Son manteau occupe la moitié de la case. Aris est presque hors champ. Ambiance : Mépris, indifférence. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — CASE ÉTROITE (objet) Description visuelle : Aris fouille dans une poubelle. On voit du pain dur, à moitié moisi. Il hésite. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ VISAGE Description visuelle : Visage d’Aris enfant. Traits tirés. Yeux fatigués, mais attentifs. Il mâche lentement. Ambiance : Faim, résignation. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 7 — CASE FINALE (silencieuse) Description visuelle : Aris recroquevillé contre un mur, la nuit. La ville continue derrière lui : silhouettes, ombres, mouvement. Lui est immobile. Ambiance : Solitude totale. Texte : Aucun. 🎯 INTENTION (IMPORTANT POUR MANGA AI) Pas d’exagération émotionnelle Pas de caricature Aris enfant ne pleure pas La ville est le “monstre” Le silence est plus fort que les mots
🖤 PLANCHE 3 — Le temps insiste Fonction narrative : transition Style : manga noir et blanc Ambiance : répétition, fatigue, hiver intérieur Nombre de cases : 6 Âge Début de planche : 7–8 ans Fin de planche : 12–13 ans 👉 Le saut se fait visuellement, sans texte explicatif. Tenue (CONSTAMMENT LA MÊME) haut type kimono simple, blanc à l’origine, très sale pantalon large déchiré pieds nus vêtements trop grands au début, un peu moins à la fin 👉 Même tenue = le temps passe, pas les moyens. 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN MOYEN (début) Description visuelle : Même mur que la planche 2. Aris enfant (7–8 ans) est assis au sol, dos au mur. Une affiche devant lui. Il essaie encore de lire. Ambiance : Déjà-vu. Texte (petit, hésitant) : « m… a… » 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN SERRÉ (détail) Description visuelle : Ses doigts sont sales, un peu abîmés. Ils suivent maladroitement une ligne de texte. Ambiance : L’effort est réel, le résultat nul. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN MOYEN (ellipse) Description visuelle : Même mur. Même posture. Mais Aris est un peu plus grand (10–11 ans). Les affiches ont changé, se sont accumulées. Ambiance : Le monde avance. Lui, à peine. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 4 — PLAN SERRÉ (visage) Description visuelle : Aris 12–13 ans. Traits plus tirés. Regard fatigué. Il lit lentement, syllabe par syllabe. Texte (haché, lent) : « mar… ché… pa… » 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Aris s’arrête. Il ferme les yeux. Sa tête touche le mur. Ambiance : Épuisement, pas abandon. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE Description visuelle : Aris se relève et s’éloigne. Il est maintenant adolescent, plus grand, toujours maigre. Le mur est couvert d’affiches. Ambiance : Il n’a pas gagné. Mais il n’a pas arrêté. Texte : Aucun. 🎯 Ce que cette planche fait (important) montre la durée justifie la lecture plus tard prépare la planche 4 (les livres jetés) renforce le caractère obstiné d’Aris aucune victoire
🖤 PLANCHE 2 — Lire pour survivre Style : manga noir et blanc Ambiance : sombre, froide, mais avec une petite respiration Nombre de cases : 6 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Même rue que la planche 1. Aris enfant marche seul, tête baissée. Des affiches sont collées sur les murs (avis, annonces, lois). Ambiance : Indifférence totale. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (mur) Description visuelle : Affiche à moitié déchirée. Du texte visible, pas entièrement lisible. On comprend qu’il y a des mots. Ambiance : Le monde écrit, mais inaccessible. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (Aris) Description visuelle : Aris enfant arrêté devant le mur. Il regarde l’affiche. Son regard est concentré, sérieux. Ambiance : Curiosité, attention. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (mains) Description visuelle : Aris décolle soigneusement un morceau de l’affiche. Ses doigts sont sales, mais délicats. Ambiance : Précaution, respect. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Aris assis dans une ruelle, dos au mur. Il tient le papier. Ses lèvres bougent légèrement. Ambiance : Concentration silencieuse. Texte (très petit, discret) : Des fragments de mots lisibles sur le papier (ex : “marché”, “pain”, “rue”, “interdit”). 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE Description visuelle : Aris appuyé contre le mur, lisant. Autour de lui, la rue est sombre. Son visage est un peu moins fermé que sur la planche 1. Ambiance : Calme. Refuge intérieur. Texte : Aucun. 🎯 INTENTION (pour MangaAI) La lecture = seule échappatoire Pas de sourire exagéré Pas de lumière magique Juste un peu moins d’ombre sur le visage d’Aris Le monde reste dur, lui trouve un refuge
🖤 PLANCHE 6 — Les mots entrent Même structure, même intention, juste un médium différent. 🟦 CASE 1 — CALME Aris assis contre le mur. Le livre ouvert devant lui. Il lit. Silence. 🟦 CASE 2 — PREMIÈRE ANOMALIE Les mots quittent la page. Pas tous. Quelques lignes seulement. Ils flottent, comme mal accrochés au monde. Pas d’effet magique flashy. 🟦 CASE 3 — CONTACT Les mots se collent à Aris : sur les bras sur le cou sur le visage sur les vêtements Ils ne pénètrent pas encore. Ils adhèrent. 👉 Comme une écriture qu’on ne peut plus effacer. 🟦 CASE 4 — DOULEUR Gros plan sur le visage. Les mots s’enfoncent : ils disparaissent sous la peau laissent des traces sombres certaines lettres se déforment Texte (petit, cassé) : « —Gah— » Cri humain. Pas héroïque. 🟦 CASE 5 — LA CHUTE Le corps lâche. Aris glisse, s’effondre. Les mots continuent d’entrer, même s’il ne lit plus. Il n’a plus aucun contrôle. 🟦 CASE 6 — ÉVANOUISSEMENT Aris inconscient. Les mots ont disparu. Plus rien de visible. Le livre est toujours ouvert. Silence.
PAGE 1 : L'ambiance (Le calme avant la tempête) Case 1 (Plan d'ensemble - Très large) : Une vue panoramique d'une ville immense mais détruite. Des gratte-ciels éventrés, des lianes partout. Le ciel est gris, lourd. SFX : VUUUUUU (Le vent qui souffle). Case 2 (Plan moyen) : Zoom sur une ruelle sombre encombrée de débris. On voit une silhouette encapuchonnée de dos qui marche. C'est JIN. SFX : CRIC... CRAC... (Bruits de pas sur du verre). Case 3 (Gros plan) : Focus sur la main de Jin. Elle est humaine, mais elle tient un appareil étrange qui bip (un détecteur). SFX : Bip... Bip... Case 4 (Gros plan visage) : On voit le bas du visage de Jin. Il sourit légèrement. JIN : "Bingo."
Miu is girl and Levi is boy . I need colored manga "I'll be fine." Miu drink more Levi blood than was healthy, but it wouldn't harm Levi health. Levi picked Miu up before Miu passed out. A few days later Miu woke up and felt better. Someone was holding my hand and sleeping in chair close to bed. Miu moved a little and it woke Levi up. It was deep in the night It was Levi. "Miu.." Levi whispered and Miu blinked. "Levi" smiled and Levi hugged Miu. "I was so scared. Why aren't you taking care of yourself?" Levi asks and Miu start to cry. "I'm sorry." Levi puts his forehead against mine. "Don't apologize." Levi says and gets on the bed and hugs Miu tightly. It felt good. "I thought I was going to lose you when Finn was carrying you." He whispered and this time Miu held him close. "Am I okay?" Miu say to reassure Levi and his breathing calms down. Levi looks into Miu eyes again and Miu look into his. "Will it be okay how long have I been away?" "A week and a half." Levi replies and Miu widen eyes. "That's not possible." Miu say and he chuckles ironically. "That's right." Levi says and Miu kiss him. Levi kisses Miu back and caresses Miu cheek. Miu feel more sorry for scaring Levi than for almost dying. "I love you so much, Mia." "I love you too." Miu whisper and kiss Levi and pull Levi closer. Miu stroke Levis hair until both fall asleep again.
Panel 1: Woman in sweater sitting alone at café window seat with coffee Panel 2: Same woman younger in flashback at same seat with boyfriend Panel 3: Present woman touching empty chair across from her Panel 4: Woman smiling softly while writing in journal at the table
Miu is girl qnd Levi is boy "I'll be fine." I drink more than was healthy, but it wouldn't harm his health. He picked me up before I passed out. A few days later I woke up and felt better. Someone was holding my hand and sleeping. I moved a little and it woke him up. It was deep in the night It was Levi. "Miu.." He whispered and I blinked. "Levi" smiled and then hugged me. "I was so scared. Why aren't you taking care of yourself?" He asks and I start to cry. "I'm sorry." He puts his forehead against mine. "Don't apologize." He says and gets on the bed and hugs me tightly. It felt good. "I thought I was going to lose you when Finn was carrying you." He whispered and this time I held him close. "Am I okay?" I say to reassure him and his breathing calms down. He looks into my eyes again and I look into his. "Will it be okay how long have I been away?" "A week and a half." He replies and I widen my eyes. "That's not possible." I say and he chuckles ironically. "That's right." He says and I kiss him. He kisses me back and caresses my cheek. I feel more sorry for scaring him than for almost dying. "I love you so much, Mia." "I love you too." I whisper and kiss him as a friend. I stroke his hair until we both fall asleep again.
**“The Third Chair”** Lin Zhixia first met Zhou Jin at a window-side table in a café. The sunlight was beautiful that day, yet the chair across from him was empty. She learned later that the chair belonged to his girlfriend—Shen Yan. Zhou Jin never hid the truth. He said he loved someone, and he also said he wasn’t sure whether he could still love another. Lin Zhixia understood—yet she sat down anyway. Their relationship was like a nameless river. Unspoken, unacknowledged, never crossing the point of no return— and yet, step by step, it ran deeper. When Shen Yan appeared, everything finally gained weight. She was calmer than Lin Zhixia had imagined. She only looked at her and said, “You’re not a bad person.” The words felt sharper than a knife. That night, Lin Zhixia asked herself for the first time in earnest: If love has to hurt someone in order to exist, did she really want it? Zhou Jin tried to keep her, saying, “I can’t live without either of you.” But in that moment, Lin Zhixia suddenly understood— in a love shared by three, someone is always sitting in the extra chair. She stood up and gave up her seat. Later on, the café was still the same café. By the window, the table still held three chairs.
Keith slouched on his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating the dark corners of his apartment. The bottle on the table was almost empty, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop staring at the screen. Clair. She was kissing Jonny. His best friend. The same Jonny he had told just days ago that he was going to confess. I guess I was just the dancing monkey, he thought bitterly. Always there, always reliable, never the one chosen. A sharp knock at the door yanked him out of his spiral. Tipsy and unsteady, he stumbled to open it. She was standing there. Clair. At least, that’s what he told himself. She looked frantic, her hair slightly messy, her eyes wide. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside. "Do you know where Clair left my files?" she asked, scanning the room with a sense of urgency. Keith blinked. Why is she talking in third person? he thought, but he didn’t dwell on it. He was too focused on the fact that it was her. "They should be somewhere around here," he said, rubbing his temple. She spotted a folder on the table and snatched it up. "Found them," she said, relief flashing across her face. She turned to leave, hand reaching for the door. Before she could, Keith’s hand was already on the door, stopping her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the apartment fell into silence. Time seemed to stretch. He moved closer, heart hammering. He took her hand. She froze—then didn’t pull away. The folder slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a soft thud. Keith leaned in. He kissed her. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she kissed him back. The world narrowed down to that single, electrifying moment. Neon lights from the city outside spilled across their faces, painting the room in sharp colors. He barely noticed when they pulled apart, both breathless. Morning came far too quickly. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, burning his eyes. His head throbbed, a reminder of last night’s haze. He turned in the bed and felt warmth beside him. His stomach dropped. The hair spilling across the pillow wasn’t brown. It was jet black. Recognition hit like a punch to the gut. Olivier Clair. Clair’s older sister. His boss. Keith froze, unable to process what had happened, the memories of last night coming back in a flood of panic, confusion, and disbelief.
🖤 PLANCHE 5 — L’abri Âge d’Aris : 15 ans Style : manga noir et blanc Ambiance : silence, isolement, vent Nombre de cases : 6 Tenue (canon, inchangée) : haut type kimono simple, blanc à l’origine, très sale, rapiécé pantalon large déchiré pieds nus posture fermée, fatiguée aucun élément moderne 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN LARGE (haut de page) Description visuelle : Une ancienne ferme abandonnée, hors de la ville. Herbes hautes. Clôture cassée. Grange à moitié effondrée. Maison principale encore debout, sombre. Le ciel est gris. Le vent fait bouger les herbes. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN MOYEN (Aris de dos) Description visuelle : Aris, 15 ans, debout face à la ferme. Il est petit dans le cadre. Le livre est serré contre lui. Ambiance : Hésitation silencieuse. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — DÉTAIL (la porte) Description visuelle : La porte de la maison est entrouverte. Elle grince légèrement sous le vent. L’intérieur est noir. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 4 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (Aris) Description visuelle : Le visage d’Aris. Fatigué. Neutre. Pas de peur visible, juste l’habitude. Ambiance : Il a déjà été chassé ailleurs. Texte (très petit) : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN MOYEN (intérieur) Description visuelle : Intérieur de la maison. Vide. Poussière au sol. Murs fissurés. Un pan de toit laisse passer un peu de lumière. Aris est assis contre un mur. Le livre posé devant lui. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE Description visuelle : Gros plan sur le livre fermé. Les mains d’Aris hésitent au-dessus de la couverture. Silence total. Texte : Aucun. 🎯 INTENTION (VERROUILLÉE) Aris cherche le calme Il ne fuit pas → il s’isole Il n’attend rien du livre La maison est déjà morte Rien de magique encore 👉 La tension vient du silence, pas de l’action.
Boy and girl After a long-distance relationship, Amal and Moncif finally meet for the first time in Meknes, near the train station, on a rainy day. They feel shy but instantly connected. They go together to a small café and drink coffee while talking and laughing. Later, they take an Uber to Cocopark, where they play bowling, laugh a lot, and forget about time. They walk outside under the rain, sharing their first kiss beneath the falling rain. After that, they go to the cinema and watch a movie together, then eat at KFC. As they walk again in the rain, Amal talks nonstop, telling Moncif stories about her city, Meknes, and her favorite places. When they return to the train station, the mood changes. Amal starts crying because she doesn’t want Moncif to leave. They hug tightly, holding onto each other for a long time. Moncif finally leaves on the train, and Amal goes home in a taxi, sad but holding beautiful memories of their first meeting
"Hungry Cat" Panel 1: Cat stares at empty food bowl. Panel 2: Cat meows loudly at sleeping owner in bed. Panel 3: Owner fills the food bowl, looking sleepy and annoyed. Panel 4: Cat ignores the food and sleeps in the empty box the cat food came in.
michael kaiser from bluelock with cape blowing in the wind
Ten thousand years after the Great Heaven War, the Dao has changed—and so has the world. Sects rule nations, flying swords fill regulated skies, and Heavenly Trials descend the moment a cultivator understands too much. In this late-stage cultivation era, power is institutionalized, ambition is monitored, and even righteousness is a political stance rather than a cosmic truth. Born into an ancient sword clan that chose adaptation over isolation, a young cultivator enters a second-tier righteous sect where talent is refined and the greatest disciples are sent upward to a Tier One power. But in a world where the Dao is endless and Heaven corrects imbalance without mercy, insight is more dangerous than strength. The path to immortality is uncertain. The Dao does not care about good or evil. And Heaven is always watching.
Ten thousand years after the Great Heaven War, the Dao has changed—and so has the world. Sects rule nations, flying swords fill regulated skies, and Heavenly Trials descend the moment a cultivator understands too much. In this late-stage cultivation era, power is institutionalized, ambition is monitored, and even righteousness is a political stance rather than a cosmic truth. Born into an ancient sword clan that chose adaptation over isolation, a young cultivator enters a second-tier righteous sect where talent is refined and the greatest disciples are sent upward to a Tier One power. But in a world where the Dao is endless and Heaven corrects imbalance without mercy, insight is more dangerous than strength. The path to immortality is uncertain. The Dao does not care about good or evil. And Heaven is always watching.
Ten thousand years after the Great Heaven War, the Dao has changed—and so has the world. Sects rule nations, flying swords fill regulated skies, and Heavenly Trials descend the moment a cultivator understands too much. In this late-stage cultivation era, power is institutionalized, ambition is monitored, and even righteousness is a political stance rather than a cosmic truth. Born into an ancient sword clan that chose adaptation over isolation, a young cultivator enters a second-tier righteous sect where talent is refined and the greatest disciples are sent upward to a Tier One power. But in a world where the Dao is endless and Heaven corrects imbalance without mercy, insight is more dangerous than strength. The path to immortality is uncertain. The Dao does not care about good or evil. And Heaven is always watching.
Ten thousand years after the Great Heaven War, the Dao has changed—and so has the world. Sects rule nations, flying swords fill regulated skies, and Heavenly Trials descend the moment a cultivator understands too much. In this late-stage cultivation era, power is institutionalized, ambition is monitored, and even righteousness is a political stance rather than a cosmic truth. Born into an ancient sword clan that chose adaptation over isolation, a young cultivator enters a second-tier righteous sect where talent is refined and the greatest disciples are sent upward to a Tier One power. But in a world where the Dao is endless and Heaven corrects imbalance without mercy, insight is more dangerous than strength. The path to immortality is uncertain. The Dao does not care about good or evil. And Heaven is always watching.
Ten thousand years after the Great Heaven War, the Dao has changed—and so has the world. Sects rule nations, flying swords fill regulated skies, and Heavenly Trials descend the moment a cultivator understands too much. In this late-stage cultivation era, power is institutionalized, ambition is monitored, and even righteousness is a political stance rather than a cosmic truth. Born into an ancient sword clan that chose adaptation over isolation, a young cultivator enters a second-tier righteous sect where talent is refined and the greatest disciples are sent upward to a Tier One power. But in a world where the Dao is endless and Heaven corrects imbalance without mercy, insight is more dangerous than strength. The path to immortality is uncertain. The Dao does not care about good or evil. And Heaven is always watching.