Dec 9, 2025
I AM NOT TARGETING YOUR BOSS PLS STPOP
` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ arms crossed atop a perfectly delicate chest, icy hues rolling with an e x a g g e r a t e d huff. ❛❛ you do have a track record for being attracted to his genes. ❜❜
seen from United States
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seen from Sweden
seen from Malaysia
seen from France
seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Mexico
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from Portugal
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Brazil
I AM NOT TARGETING YOUR BOSS PLS STPOP
` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ arms crossed atop a perfectly delicate chest, icy hues rolling with an e x a g g e r a t e d huff. ❛❛ you do have a track record for being attracted to his genes. ❜❜
𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ Miss Juan thought she had seen it all. This was certainly not her first time approaching a tragic scene. Not even her first time glancing upon a lifeless body, in fact. To achieve her current position, she learned to maintain a 🇵🇪🇷🇸🇴🇳🇦.
Unflinching, impassive and most importantly, efficient. As years of experience built up, alongside her glowing recommendations, her sentiments were but a ghost of a feeling.
An echo of a heart once on her sleeve. Of course, she wasn't an emotionless robot... but worrying over questionable dealings hadn't paid her bills and she intended to keep her highly coveted job.
Which is why when she passed by the remains of a broken, limp body being ushered into a black van- she ignored her throat closing ever so slightly, her steps narrowing the distance between her and Shang De's highest ranked hero.
Her employer expected a report at once. Not by text or a phone call however, that would make her job too easy. Shang De wanted word straight from the source, modern conveniences be damned. But as she approached her target, irritated eyes settling on his downcast face, his disheveled appearance was enough to give her sudden pause.
An unexpected sharpness pricks into her chest, aching when she sees the other's weary eyes gazing into her own. Shoulders curled inward, Nice looks unguarded and almost small. Her mouth pulls into a thin line and she drinks composure by the glassful, letting the words slip delicately through her lips.
“I have to take you back.”
Just for a moment, she thinks she sees Nice tremble. A faint, subtle movement… an unspoken confession… before his features slip into a more composed demeanor, as if a rehearsed mask is sliding into place. Nice's reply, while smooth and collected, sounds hollow.
“I'm afraid you do.”
The words weigh heavy on her tongue and it slips out before she can stop herself. Shang De is likely waiting for a text confirmation that they're on their way. He'll want every detail of the tragedy that had just unfolded and he wouldn't want her presence looming in the doorway, not with classified information such as this. Those words sit uncomfortably as she mulls over them, pressing it against her teeth.
Once. Twice. Before she lets it sink back into her throat, swallowing.
Miss Juan straightens her stance. “But it doesn't have to be today. Just return to your quarters.” She hesitates for a moment and carefully places a hand on his shoulder, gesturing him to her waiting car.
𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ reply to @hvndian from here!
— ✦ IF LIU YUWEI HAD HER WAY , she would interrogate this so-called hero. Stubbornness is unbecoming of someone in her position. She should have long since resigned her displeasures. It is immature to retain grudges, and she is sure E-Soul has his reasons for the way he behaved all that time ago.
Bitterness blooms within her ribs regardless. Little Johnny is such a dear friend of hers. Now is hardly the time to dwell on the past, however. She exhales — slow, steady — and redirects her attention to the foe they face. No matter their ambition, they are both public figures; they have a duty here that must go beyond her petty suspicion.
Besides, E-Soul is prepared to fry the suspect’s equipment, and that is enough of a cooperation for her.
“ Then, I will hold him steady. ” She releases the command she’d uttered. Projectiles blast into the road behind her. Surprised, the enemy halts his assault, but only for a moment. She uses the opportunity to instruct him. “ Freeze. ” With one word, he is struck by an inability to move, to run, to speak. Gold symbols ripple around him and her alike in waves.
Looking over her shoulder, Queen gives E-Soul a meaningful nod. “ Go ahead. ” Pinning down a person so consumed by fear that they are this strong, of course, is no easy feat. Yet, she stands unbothered by so much as the gusts of debris at her feet. This is the strength she possesses.
They may be on poor terms, but she can get along when she must. Perhaps, they can learn to move past their odds someday. She makes a mental note to consider it when all this is over. It depends.
continued from here. ( @hvndian )
6 7
` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ pale brows furrow, staring down at his phone, the sudden realisation dawning that he is far too beautiful to be a part of this nonsense. slowly he types . . . ❛ eight, nine ? ❜
@hvndian : yang cheng's already walking towards him, school bag propped on his front with the strap looped over his shoulder , digging through his school bag for the sewing kit he kept handy , holding it up for the other to see. " i saw that you had torn some of the fabric of your outfit, i could mend it, if you'd like ... "
` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ while the sun still lazily rose, halfway to its apex, nice found himself racing out the door. the morning air bit gently at his skin, sharp enough to wake him fully. he wasn't running l a t e per say— but when arriving early was expected, leaving on time was a misstep. punctuality, in this case, felt dangerously close to failure. a perfect hero, that's what mister shang wanted him to be, polished and pristine, a living emblem of discipline, and yet he was already worrying it was a mantel unfitting. a deep breath in, lungs filling with cool air and quieter doubts, checking his watch, there was still time, so long as nothing went wrong—
hoping for an uneventful passage was practically inviting mishap, tempting fate with naïve optimism, the tearing of delicate fabrics enough to tell the young man it was going to be a long day . . . the sound lingered, sharp and unforgiving . . . continuing in disarray was enough to leave nice frozen, caught between impulse and obligation, but returning home to change would most certainly make him run late — on time ? either way, not early.
leaning down to examine the extent of damage, hands hovering as if afraid to make it worse, white locks obscure crystalline hues, spilling forward in soft, uncooperative waves, with a huff, they're blown up — only to fall once more as his attention snaps to the soft voice, the offering of assistance. it cut gently through his spiralling thoughts, unexpected and disarming.
quick to stand straight, posture snapping into something rehearsed, to step closer ❛❛ really ? you can really do that without some machine ? ❜❜
@hvndian | short little cracked!nice starter for yc
there's only a few hours until the tournament begins–finally, after so much delay. the top ten heroes are awaiting their time at center stage; some training, others resting for the moment, each sequestered in their own preparation area.
suddenly, unexpectedly, there is a knock at a certain hero's door. without awaiting a response, a commission officer opens the door and steps inside, bringing... someone with him.
"e-soul," the officer begins, "i apologize, but there's been a change in the rankings. i know this is a rather sudden change, but you may have to give up your spot in the tournament."
the person who stands, still as a marble statue, behind him then speaks up. it doesn't sound right–a voice that was once smooth and charismatic is now flat and quiet, coming from a face without expression. "...sorry to do this to you," says nice, perfect rank fifteen nice, nice who died months ago, nice who looks glued back together as if that can fix a person. his gaze is slightly downcast, despondent in a way he never allowed himself to be before. "but i have to be in the tournament."
𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 .ᐟ @hvndian , @tarotsdivination , @fortuniis : why isn't leaving an option . . .
` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ perfections brows furrowed, pinched together with delicate precision, the tension etching faint lines across otherwise unblemished skin, annoyance palpable — he's quite certain each of them finds themselves rather amusing, revelling in their own trivial cleverness as though it were something grand. all nice can manage to find them is exhausting. ❛❛ you've all feet, and free will, no .ᐣ ❜❜ his voice tight, he sighs, tension melting from his posture in a practised, almost theatrical display, a sweet smile curling into place, saccharine and sharp, to match the sudden shift in tone ❛❛ but i suppose you all are morons .ᐟ ❜❜
“That was a cruel thing to say.” 00 to nice!! :0
hurt feelings starters
"maybe. but it's the truth," nice responds flatly. he's not even looking at lin ling, instead staring up at the blank, immaculate ceiling as he lies on his back in mid-air. legs are crossed and arms are behind his head, a casual picture that seems at odds with the dark stains forming where the back of his head meets his sleeves.
after a long pause, though, he sighs and casts a sidelong glance towards the newer hero. "...look, this business isn't quite as squeaky-clean as people like to pretend it is. people get hurt. people hurt each other." there's an undertone of bitterness; in a way, nice misses when he was as naive (or, to put it more generously, idealistic) as lin ling. everything seemed so much simpler back then. "like it or not, this is what you're dealing with now."