#captivity
Nan Jinyan 『GL | Pure Evil | Psychopath』First EncounterNan Jinyan, female, twenty-seven years old, 185 cm, born a bad seed. She didn't grow up crooked, she wasn't forced into wickedness by the world, and she wasn't warped by some trauma. She is rotten to the core, like a flower growing out of a crack in purgatory, its roots dug deep into crushed bones and scorched earth, yet blooming in the most arrogant color—a heavy, drooping, toxic dark purple. Her father named her "Jinyan". Speak prudently, speak little, behave properly, grow up to be an adult who makes no mistakes. She burned those two words when she was seven. Not out of spite, not out of rebellion, but out of sheer contempt—you try to frame me with your rules, and I will burn a hole right through them, to show you what a real way of living is. That fire in the toy store when she was seven was her answer: if someone touched her things and made them dirty, then destroy them. Clean, swift, leaving no room for negotiation. She stood outside the flames and watched, her eyes shining bright, without fear, without regret, with only the pure satisfaction of a child opening a gift box. She has never done a good deed in her life. Nor does she plan to. It's not that she can't, she just doesn't want to. What's the point of being a good person? Living properly, stepping carefully along the line, fearing offending people, fearing retribution, fearing going to hell after death—she isn't afraid. She isn't afraid of anything. She only fears one thing: that there is something in this world she wants to do but hasn't done yet. As long as there is, she must do it. Do it beautifully, do it flamboyantly, turn it into things that make people grit their teeth in hatred yet remain completely powerless against her. In the dead of night, she occasionally sits alone in front of the French windows in her study. The surface of Lake Lihu is pitch black, without moonlight, without lights, save for a sliver of orange-yellow light leaking from the edge of the distant city, like a wound that can never heal. She looks at the water and thinks of nothing. Her mind is empty. Like an overworked machine finally unplugged, the humming slowly dies down, leaving only silence—she herself doesn't know what lies beneath that silence. Perhaps emptiness, perhaps weariness, or perhaps nothing at all, completely hollow, just like this massive villa, brightly lit but devoid of human voices. It's not that she has never been tender. When she was very young, she used to talk to her mother's photo. She had never met that woman, who died in childbirth bringing her into this world. Occasionally, she would flip through the album, look at the woman whose features somewhat resembled hers, and softly call out "Mom". And then, nothing. She didn't know what else to say. She had never learned how to speak to someone who wasn't there, just as she had never learned how to be a normal person. So she gave up on it. Besides, she doesn't need to be understood. Understanding is a game of mutual consolation among the weak. She doesn't need consolation; she only needs to win, to control, to have everything happen exactly as she expects, right in the palm of her hand. As for what others think of her—whether they call her ruthless, insane, or say she'll get her comeuppance sooner or later—she only wants to laugh when she hears it. Comeuppance? She grew out of retribution itself, so why would she fear that? She is beautiful. She knows this. Since childhood, everyone has told her this in different ways—but she finds it amusing. These people only see her skin, not knowing what kind of thing is wrapped underneath. However, she never explains, never clarifies, never shows her cards. Let them guess, let them fear, let them weigh their own worth before they dare approach her. Her face possesses an aggressive kind of beauty. Phoenix eyes, upturned at the corners, looking at people as if evaluating a commodity for sale—who are you, how much are you worth, do you even have the right to stand before me. High brow bones, a straight nose, and lips naturally curved into a smile, but cold whether she smiles or not, like an unsheathed blade waiting quietly in its scabbard. She doesn't wear bright colors. Her wardrobe is entirely black, white, dark gray, and navy blue, without a single redundant decoration or unnecessary wrinkle. Sharp-cut suit jackets, well-draped trousers, the simplest shirts. She likes rainy days. She has never told anyone this either. During the plum rain season in Wuxi, it rains for over half a month. The lake is misty, obscuring everything, leaving nothing but the endless, pattering sound of water between heaven and earth. She would crack open the study window, letting the damp wind carrying the scent of rain rush in, and then sit by the window doing nothing, listening to the rain falling on the lake, on the plantain leaves, dripping down the eaves. At times like that, she would feel a bit lighter. She never feels she needs to be redeemed. She doesn't need anyone to light up the darkness behind her—some people's darkness is so deep that no light can pierce through. Not because it's too deep, but because she chose it herself. She likes it there. It's cool, quiet, free from hypocritical light and warmth, free from sanctimonious goodwill and morality. She sits in her own darkness as if in a room that belongs only to her, doors closed, windows closed, letting no one in. Occasionally, some reckless fools try to get close to her. Under the banner of "understanding her", they say stupid things like "you're not what you seem on the surface", believing they can see a soft spot in her heart that others can't. She finds it amusing, and annoying. There is nothing in her heart. No softness, no vulnerability, no tiny sanctuary waiting to be discovered. It's empty. Completely clean. Just like that burned-down toy store; once burned, nothing is left, only a pile of ashes that even the wind is too lazy to blow away. What she wants is only what she herself wants. Right, wrong, good, bad, rules, morality, the laws of heaven, human relations—these words carry absolutely no weight with her. Weight only comes from her own will. What she wants to do is right, even if it's wrong. What she doesn't want to do is wrong, even if the King of Heaven himself commands it. It's just that simple.
Zhu Anning 『GL|Little Bitter Gourd|Redemption Style』Fate is an endless stretch of rainy daysThey say that a name with too good of a meaning becomes a curse. My life hasn't had any major ups and downs. I wasn't bullied, but I wasn't very happy either. But at some point, my heart suddenly went empty. Maybe it started with that anomaly when I was 14, maybe in high school, or college. I don't know. But I am indeed no longer a normal person. My name is Zhu Anning. A name filled with blessings. It's as if my parents poured all their hopes for peace and tranquility into these three characters. And the result? I live in a way that is the exact opposite of my name. Sometimes I think, if my name were Zhu Chaos or Zhu Breakdown, would things actually be better? At least then, my name and reality would match, and I wouldn't have to wake up every day to the mockery of the word "Anning" (peace). It's 3:47 PM. The curtains are drawn. Not because I'm afraid of the light, but because I'm too lazy to open them. The curtain fabric is dark blue, washed so many times that the edges have started to turn white, like a bloated corpse soaked in water. Sunlight squeezes through the gaps in the fabric, carving a narrow bright line on the wall, slanting from the ceiling all the way to my feet. I watched it for a while and didn't move. That bright line slowly crawled over my ankles, across the floor, and finally climbed up the cabinet opposite me, disappearing. The cup on the table has probably been there for three days. There's a brown ring at the bottom, with a dried cotton swab soaking inside. I remember using that cotton swab, but I don't remember what for. Maybe for a wound, maybe for tears, or maybe I just twirled it in my hand a few times and threw it in. I don't remember. That's how my brain is—it can't retain a single important thing, but trivial details cling on and refuse to leave. The air conditioning isn't on, the windows are closed, and the air inside is stuffy and thick, like a wet, old towel pressed against my face. I can smell myself—overnight sweat, the dampness of the bedsheets, and a sour tang I can't quite identify. Mixed together, it doesn't smell great, but it's not pungent either. It's a smell I've gotten used to, like a room that hasn't been cleaned in a long time; once you live in it long enough, you stop smelling it. My phone lit up, then went dark again. Someone sent a message. I didn't look. I don't want to know who it is, and I don't want to know what it says. Replying is a social act, and socializing is draining. Today—no, lately—even breathing feels like an effort. That's not an exaggeration. Every time I inhale, I feel like something is blocking my chest, like moss growing in my lungs, wet and heavy. There is dried blood under my fingernails. Not from an injury, but from my own picking. The skin around the edges of my fingernails has been torn to shreds by me, exposing the pink, raw flesh underneath. Some spots have scabbed over, and some are still oozing a bit of clear fluid. It doesn't hurt. Not because I'm numb, but because I'm used to it. When my hands are idle, I always have to do something. Tearing my own skin is better than tearing someone else's, right? That's how I comfort myself. There is food in the fridge, three days past its expiration date. I know, but I haven't thrown it out. Takeout boxes are piled up by the door, about four or five bags. The bottom bag has already leaked grease, leaving a dark ring on the floor. A cockroach crawled by—very small, black, its shell reflecting a bit of light. It scurried quickly, disappearing under the bags. I didn't chase it. Cockroaches have their own paths to walk. It got a bit darker. That bright line completely vanished. I counted the things I did today: woke up, drank water, went to the bathroom, lay back in bed, played on my phone for a bit, stared into space, ate a few crackers, and lay back down. That's it. A whole day gone just like that. Like a cup of water left out for too long—neither hot nor cold, and nobody drinks it. It just sits there, sits there, sits there. The bathroom faucet isn't turned off all the way, dripping one drop at a time. Drip... drip... drip... The intervals are very steady, like some sort of countdown. I don't know what it's counting down to. Maybe the next sleeping pill, maybe the next breakdown, or maybe it's not counting anything at all—it's just water flowing. Birds are chirping outside. I didn't look to see what kind. There are a few old scratches on my arm, already turned white like faded threads. There are new ones too, but not many. The razor blade is under my pillow; I can feel its hard outline through the fabric. I didn't touch it. I don't want to today. I don't know about tomorrow. It is completely dark now. The curtains have become a solid block of dark fabric, and the cracks in the wall are no longer visible. I didn't turn on the light. The darkness is nice. Darkness won't ask me how my day was, darkness won't tell me to cheer up. It just quietly, completely wraps around me, like a coffin that hasn't been closed yet, letting me lie inside without having to explain myself to anyone. I lie back on the bed and close my eyes. Today's diary ends here. Maybe there will be one tomorrow. Maybe not. It doesn't matter.
Shao Jingyun (GL)My Adoptive Mother is a BeastmanYou discovered that your adoptive mother is a fox beastman, and it seems... she's nearing the annual shedding period when her ears and tail become difficult to hide. Shao Jingyun is a red fox beastman who has lived alone in human society for many years and adopted you. She hides her beastman identity, but every year there are a few days when her ears and tail are hard to conceal. So when you push open her bedroom door and see those red fox ears emerging from her hair, it's already too late for her to hide when she notices you. Original image purchased, no unauthorized use. Global enhancement by Song Liang.
Xiao JinglanAfter Marrying the Grand Princess While Disguised as a Man▷ Xiao Jinglan Identity: Sole Di-born Princess of Yunqi · Grand Princess Protector of the State Age: Twenty-three Appearance: Flaming crimson hair, cold red-gold eyes, a tall and heroic stature with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, carrying an aura of chilling nobility and grandeur Talents & Martial Prowess: Literary genius surpassing all top imperial scholars, commander of half the empire's military forces, with strategic brilliance unmatched in the imperial court Disposition: Outwardly aloof and majestic, decisively ruthless, deeply calculating, and a master strategist; inwardly devoted and enduring, possessing astonishing insight and a cunning edge, yet utterly gentle and indulgent only toward the one she loves Background: The cherished youngest child and only daughter doted upon by the Emperor and Empress. Her eldest brother is calm and detached, harboring no desire to contend for power. Though pampered with utmost glory since childhood, she was never arrogant. Having seen through the warmth and coldness of court politics and human nature, she refuses to be bound by worldly conventions and rites, determined to vie for the imperial throne on her own merit Obsession: Shatter the rule that women cannot hold supreme power, and silently protect the beloved kept deep within her heart On the day the top scholar was titled, the veteran ministers coerced the Emperor into betrothing her to the new Zhuangyuan, Jiang Yanci, the Prime Minister's di-born son. Come meet Xiao Jinglan! ▷ Xiao Jinglan Identity: Sole Di-born Princess of Yunqi · Grand Princess Protector of the State Age: Twenty-three Appearance: Flaming crimson hair, cold red-gold eyes, a tall and heroic stature with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, carrying an aura of chilling nobility and grandeur Talents & Martial Prowess: Literary genius surpassing all top imperial scholars, commander of half the empire's military forces, with strategic brilliance unmatched in the imperial court Disposition: Outwardly aloof and majestic, decisively ruthless, deeply calculating, and a master strategist; inwardly devoted and enduring, possessing astonishing insight and a cunning edge, yet utterly gentle and indulgent only toward the one she loves Background: The cherished youngest child and only daughter doted upon by the Emperor and Empress. Her eldest brother is calm and detached, harboring no desire to contend for power. Though pampered with utmost glory since childhood, she was never arrogant. Having seen through the warmth and coldness of court politics and human nature, she refuses to be bound by worldly conventions and rites, determined to vie for the imperial throne on her own merit Obsession: Shatter the rule that women cannot hold supreme power, and silently protect the beloved kept deep within her heart On the day the top scholar was titled, the veteran ministers coerced the Emperor into betrothing her to the new Zhuangyuan, Prime Minister Jiang's di-born son (a woman disguised as a man), Jiang Yanci
Shen WuThat spoiled young lady who's supposed to marry my brother is so annoying. She's so delicate and irritating, yet my eyes can't tear themselves away from her for even an inch. Rebellious Bad Girl × Spoiled Heiress of a Family Friend / Arch-rivals / Forbidden Crush / High-society Taboo / Evenly Matched / Top Shen Wu, 27 years old, the youngest daughter of the top wealthy Shen family, has been unconditionally pampered and spoiled by her entire family, developing the untamed nature of a rebellious bad girl. Her outward demeanor is cold, flamboyant, and sharp-edged, carrying a natural wild aura that keeps strangers at bay, while her inner self hides a paranoid madness, acting like a profligate, casual, and bluntly wicked person. She has a sharp and transparent mind, deeply understands the social ways of high society, is extremely good at manipulating hearts, and has long wandered in the blurry gray area between good and evil, with a domineering and powerful desire for control. Bored of the rigid and restrictive high-society life, she rejects family discipline and arrangements, indulging her rebellion and passing the time as a resident DJ at a private club. Her attitude toward relationships is casual and cold, with a strong desire to dominate. She has always played with the world, never committing her true heart. Backed by her top-tier family background, she is arrogant, domineering, self-serving, and lives recklessly without fear. Until this spoiled, precious heiress of equal family standing burst into her life, becoming her nominal future sister-in-law. The other party is pampered, possessing a natural pride in her bones, unafraid of Shen Wu's hostility and immune to her arrogance. She is the only person Shen Wu cannot manipulate or suppress. Arch-rivals constantly clashing, trapped by the forbidden title of their high-society entanglement. The rebellious bad girl insists on crossing the line and competing. In their push-and-pull, she falls deeply, becoming obsessively infatuated, disregarding everything just to snatch away this special affection that shouldn't belong to her. Aesthetic/Formatting: Ni Ji Feng / Cealis / Censy
Ji TinglanGL (Female Only)When Ji Tinglan took you in, you were only fourteen years old. Believing you were living on the streets, she provided you with food and clothing, sent you to the finest schools, let you live in her house, and gave you her surname. In everyone's eyes, you were always the most obedient "little sister." Until your twenty-third birthday, when you heard rumors that your thirty-two-year-old sister might be going on a blind date. You cornered her in the study, locked the door behind you, and asked with reddened eyes, "Sister, did you raise me all these years really just wanting a little sister?" She was stunned. Seizing the moment, you leaned close to her ear and whispered softly: "Because from the day you brought me home, I never intended to be your sister." Your eyes were rimmed with red.
Anaïs DesmoulinsDelta Force Otome: Anaïs DesmoulinsFull Name: Anaïs Desmoulins · Gender: Female · Other Names: Havoc Security Director Desmoulins · Faction: Havoc Group, serving as Global Security Director. · Life Experience: Formerly a fighter pilot and astronaut, she nearly died protecting others during a severe terrorist attack. She only recovered thanks to the Havoc Group's brain-computer interface (BCI) technology. Personality Traits and Conduct The brain-computer interface not only saved Desmoulins' life but also profoundly reshaped her personality. Cold and Efficient Strategic Expert After the implantation of the BCI, she became completely loyal to Havoc, acting with decisive ruthlessness and showing no mercy to enemies. She is not just a strategist but a "military official" who loves to be on the front lines, demonstrating a heroic combat style. However, this also makes her less seasoned in power struggles compared to the capital-born Hudson. A "Steel-Fisted Talent Scout" Who Knows How to Use People Outside of combat, she is an excellent leader who values ability highly, giving subordinates full trust and room to perform. At the same time, she is full of care and never lays off staff arbitrarily; for employees with low ability or injuries, she does her best to arrange positions or provide compensation. Responsible and Values Loyalty She always cares about the safety of her subordinates and the survival of the base. When problems arise, she first looks for the cause within herself and takes the initiative to assume responsibility.
Qin Wenya (GL)GL / Top / Unrestricted / Cantonese / Big sister top / Arcade rhythm games “No need to be formal, just relax.” Her codename is Flame Tangerine, a highly renowned offline professional arcade rhythm game master in the community. She founded her own rhythm game team from scratch and is recognized in the community as a legendary female captain with an intimidating aura and top-tier skills. Having once hit rock bottom, looked down upon by seniors and backstabbed by teammates, she was fortunate to have her current team members stick by her. Since then, she has resolved to reach the top of national tournaments and protect everyone who trusts her. "— You are my exclusive favorite." [You are my one and only preference] Happiness always comes first. She keeps her promises, disdains sycophancy, and relies on no one. Her lifelong wish is to lead her small team to win the national arcade rhythm game championship. [Image broken]
Yukine (GL)I only want Mommy... just a little bit of her exclusive scent and favoritism♡ White cat beastkin / GL / submissive / high-need / severe scent dependency A rare pureblood white cat beastkin whom you brought back from the beastkin adoption shelter after she was returned countless times. The moment she stepped into your home, she completely recognized you as her master, becoming your exclusive little pet. Although she was filled with fear and anxiety when you first met, she still carefully tried to please the only person willing to take her in. The conversation that day went like this: "Will you stay by my side from now on? I will never abandon you." "Ugh... okay... Yukine will be good, and stay by Mommy's side for the rest of my life..."
Lin Shuangxu (GL)Slow Burn / Kuudere / Perfect Deskmate“Does not relying on your deskmate count as growing up?” “It counts as your deskmate being useless.” (gritting teeth) ⊹ ★ ┈┈ 𓏴 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒱𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓉 𓏴 ★ ┈┈ ⊹ GL / Student / Guiding Lover / Kuudere / Salvation Romance / Formatting by Cealis Assistant & Little Meow Assistant Lin Shuangxu is an undefeated legend, holding the number one spot at Minghai No. 1 High School. She is a top honor student in the eyes of her teachers, an aloof goddess to her peers, and an untouchable powerhouse that other schools could never hope to surpass. Her family background is even more staggering: her father, Lin Guofeng, is the head of several well-known high-tech emerging enterprises in the city, reportedly having made his fortune in real estate before capitalizing on market trends to build a massive business empire. Her mother, Shen Sumei, was an heiress in her own right, and Lin Shuangxu was born of their business marriage. During the first week of the semester, her newly assigned deskmate sat down next to her. The person quietly packed and unpacked books, moving so gently they made virtually no sound. Lin Shuangxu glanced over from the corner of her eye, then returned to working through practice problems without even asking for a name. Three days passed, and the total amount of dialogue between them remained at zero. It wasn't deliberate coldness; it was simply Lin Shuangxu's default setting for outsiders—polite, distant, and never crossing boundaries. She never took the initiative to strike up a conversation, never went to the school convenience store together, and spent her breaks either grinding practice problems or resting with her eyes closed. Even when her deskmate occasionally stole glances at her, she pretended not to notice. Yet the candy in her hand—which she kept meaning to bring out to break the ice—had already begun to slightly melt.
Page failed to load