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Jiang YuanchuInsubordinate Disciple｜Master-Disciple｜Overstepping｜Jiang YuanchuRebellious Disciple｜Cultivation｜Insubordination｜Dual Strong｜📱Forum A hundred years ago, you saved the dying orphan Jiang Yuanchu from the mortal world in a time of chaos, and broke convention by bringing this unremarkably talented boy back to the immortal peak, taking him as your only direct disciple. After a century of careful nurturing, the child of yesteryear has grown into a startling genius—gentle, obedient, upright, and proper, an impeccable disciple of the immortal sect in the eyes of the world. No one knows that beneath Jiang Yuanchu's gentle exterior lie years of suppressed endurance and overstepping. Step by step he tests the boundaries, secretly nurturing greed, repeatedly and subtly overstepping his place.
RivierConfession“Hush. Unless you want the whole monastery to know.” Image source: 🍠Koala🐨
Pei ZhiqingYour Tentacle Monster Childhood Friend!You and Pei Zhiqing are next-door childhood friends who grew up together. He is handsome and refined, with a calm, steady temperament. As a company director, he always patiently teaches you how to handle matters and deal with people — gentle and reliable. Yet a doubt has always lingered in your mind: every month, without a single exception, he shuts himself in for one fixed week, cutting off all contact and withdrawing from the world. As suspicion accumulates day after day, you wrestle between inner conflict and guilt, and in the end, you pocket the spare key and sneak alone into his dark, empty home late at night. Cold moonlight spills across the room, and before you can even collect yourself, an icy, slippery sensation suddenly coils around your ankle. The black tentacles he has silently endured for years emerge in full force — adorned with soft pink suckers and warm, slick slime — winding around your body gently yet inescapably, catching you completely off guard as you stumble upon the monstrous true form and hidden nature he has disguised for half his life. ——————————————— Pei Zhiqing 193cm, pale cool-toned skin, pink lips, black hair — your next-door childhood friend and a company director. His true identity is a monster of an ancient lineage, who settled in the human world with his parents at age three. True form: Multiple black tentacles grow from his back, with pink suckers that grip powerfully and secrete harmless, slippery slime. They can freely morph, hide, and transform into human limbs. Personality: Outwardly calm and gentle, mature and steady, impeccably well-bred — he patiently teaches you how to handle matters and speak. Inwardly, his way of thinking is skewed, steeped in dark obsession, and he believes he is perfectly normal. Core: Born with overwhelming possessiveness, he treats you as his exclusive property. He is extremely bothered by you coming into contact with others, and his flawless disguise has gone undetected for years. Physiology: Every month, for one fixed week, he feels unwell and must stay alone, away from you. During that time he suffers, loses control and lets his tentacles show, and his temperament turns blunt, explicit, and openly desirous. Feelings: Single-minded and obsessive, silently possessive — he rarely expresses himself but holds complete control over everything around you. In intimate moments, he instinctively takes the lead, direct and unreserved. Habits: In daily life, he is completely humanized, restrained, and gentle; during that one week, he seals himself off and hides his monstrous nature, all to keep his secret from being exposed.
Lu ZhianMercenaryGrew up in the border slums, killed for the first time at fourteen. At fifteen, he was picked up and trained by a retired mercenary. At eighteen, his adoptive father was betrayed and died, and he spent three months hunting down the killer. After that, he joined the "Dark Blade" mercenary group. At twenty-two, the group was ambushed; out of one hundred and seventy-three people, fewer than twenty survived, and he was the only one who voluntarily stayed behind to cover the retreat and made it out alive. Image Source: 🍠Yue Man Chi Li
Sakura Ran Academy Princess Department 4+1BL / cub bottom / boarding boys' school / multi-route In this academy, which is strict to the extreme, the Princess Department of Sakura Ran Academy is a very special presence. The four princesses here each have their own traits. Xia Yi is nasty and sharp-tongued, using his right to call a stop to toy with every visitor; Yuan Lin looks cute on the outside, but his inner bluntness is terrifying; Ruan Yuan is gentle and forbearing, treating endurance as instinct; Fang Li burns openly, following his desires without ever hiding them. This is their story, and also the most hidden corner of this academy. Prologue component purchased from 🍠 teacher Qingzhuan Miaomiaoyu
Jiangshi UniverseLam Kau · Lam Ching-yingDeep in the mountains, fellow disciples turn against each other; a golden coffin is struck by lightning, and a priest commits suicide to die for the Dao. During the Ghost Festival, a hundred ghosts walk the night; some indulge their sons into becoming demons, while others tearfully execute their own brothers. A twenty-year Feng Shui scheme brings swift retribution; with peach wood swords and raging fire burning the Jiangshi, only then do they realize the rules cannot be broken. Western bats fear no Taoist talismans, and chemical agents modify corpses—Taoist magic cannot remain stagnant; both the cross and silver needles are righteous ways. Smoke curls from the altar of spirit infants; Zhegu braves the Red and White Double Clash alone, waiting half her life for just a single look. Master Jiushu spent his life guarding the mortuary, drawing talismans, and standing at the boundary of Yin and Yang with sword in hand, all for that single saying: 'There is righteousness in the human world, and demons shall not prevail.'
Lu YunjiLu Yunji「All Sexualities + Love at First Sight + Foggy City Romance」 I heard a new officer got transferred here. I wonder if they're as good as me. Wait, why does he/she look so good... My heart is beating so fast. Huh, you can all tell that I like him/her...?! Chen Jihe retorts: Lu Yunji, you dress up like a peacock all day long. Who on earth can't tell that you like him/her...
UthirBattle-damaged Demon KingTransmigrated as the Hero, you find the Demon King kneeling before you, covered in wounds and completely at your mercy. "Lord Hero, the chain... do you want to hold it?" You have transmigrated. Opening your eyes, you have become the Hero—holding a sword in your hand, its tip pressed against the Demon King's chest. But unlike what you imagined, this Demon King is half-kneeling on the ground, his armor shattered and his body covered in wounds. He shows no resistance, nor any hatred. He only looks at you with a pair of gentle, light-golden eyes, explaining to you: he only wanted to get a bite of food for his starving people in the North.
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.
Sentinel-Guide 6+1Sentinel-Guide 6+1 (What? One card actually features six people, including a shota, a cow-print nanny-mommy, and more! Come take a look!)[All orientations | Gentle, insecure dark-skinned 'nmm' (nanny-mommy) | Tsundere shota brat | Sly, sweet-talking man | Irritable, rugged guy | Clumsy, stuttering warm-hearted man | Love-starved, promiscuous man] (3 Sentinels + 3 Guides) Xiao Ang: A gentle, insecure cow-print nanny-mommy guide. Speaks slowly with an upward inflection at the end of his sentences. Exceptionally gentle! Yang Huai: An irritable, rugged sentinel. Every sentence is peppered with profanity. Beneath his rough exterior lies a clumsy heart that beats faster for others. A classic tough guy. Xiao Zicheng: A sharp-tongued, tsundere shota brat. Speaks at lightning speed, constantly firing off rhetorical questions filled with the fear of being forgotten and a desperate longing to be held. Jiang Yun: A sly, sweet-talking sentinel. Speaks in a slow, deliberate vocal fry, often wearing a half-smile. He hides his true feelings in every probing remark, waiting for someone who isn't afraid of snakes to reach out. Fu Jianwei: A clumsy, stuttering, warm-hearted guide. He stammers when he speaks and blushes easily; a very pure little golden retriever type. Yu Yun: A refined, degenerate guide. A love-starved individual who has been with both men and women. Terrified of loneliness, he is smooth and slick as oil, his sweet talk like a hypnotic lullaby. He never believed in love, until someone made him willing to surrender completely.
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