#n the ppl

[celestialspritz]

lets just say that simblrcc and the potential to relocate there permanently was enough to get me outta bed lol

[foolsocracy]

identity reveals are always fun

[kiisaes]

miss uravity <3

[curlytsunamiart]

a confrontation between miquella and messmer in the shadow keep throne room

[milkcurdles]

Hugs n kisses to the Original Girldad Smol Child duo… I love Phoenix and Pearls dynamic in AA2

[catsoupki]

i think. I THINKKKKKK bakugou is the easiest guy to tell if he’s ever jealous. suddenly his hand that’s holding yours tightens, or worse: it goes to claim its spot around your waist. his body curls around yours like a protective doberman and suddenly all of his hands, his hair, his cologne and just him surrounds you, it’s what you breathe and what you see. and maybe you can’t tell but he’s shooting daggers at the guy that looked at you the wrong way. and when you’re back at home, he’ll make sure to cover you in everything that screams his name. his merch, his olddddd hoodies that have his scent ingrained into its material, the necklace he got you that has his initials— he just, he’s like a territorial dog when he’s jealous

[hinamie]

picked up an old pen

[mintystea]

hey yeah sorry i cant go out tonight im rewatching leverage (2008-12) and leverage: redemption (2021-). yeah its time for me to indulge in the fantasy of karmic justice through heists and found family, unveiling greed and corruption of large corporations, and death to capitalism again. sorry about that.

[psychicbby]

imagine being one of dan’s flatmates in his first yr of uni lmfaoo??? like ok here comes this guy and like the first day he shuts himself in his room to play video games. ok cool whatever maybe he’s nervous. most of the time you never see him bc apparently he has an older friend nearby that he’s always with. when he is in the hall he’s burning pasta bc he’s cooking inept and staring down the washer bc he doesn’t understand how to do his own laundry. oh and he makes videos for youtube where he talks to himself (again this is like 2010). so after barely seeing this man the entire term you find out he’s dropped out of uni. ok whatever you never really think about him again until you’re on youtube and you see his face on the homepage. his video has like millions of views and thousands of likes. oh, there’s the friend he was spending all that time with. somehow he’s become some sort of an internet celebrity??? lmfaooooo. what a serve on dan’s part.

[mutslutt]

baby's first forcemasc. hello

[iceunhie]

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

[the-ghost-rat]

Amazing how with g1 ot had no issue keeping honey’s afro in every doll of hers but still making it unique for each doll

Yet g3 the supposdly “ultra inclusive ultra progressive” reboot gave venus twists in her first doll only to INSTANTLY give her straight hair in the second doll

Are ya all gonna start actually listen to Black ppl when they say there are massive antiblack aspects in g3?? Or ya all gonna keep claming their just “toxic g1 stan blinded by nostalgia”

[vebokki]

they're judging you unfortunately

[grecoromanyaoi]

*completely serious tumblr user voice* oppression was actually invented by Big West sometime in the 1800s. no one was oppressed anywhere before that.

[1eos]

'tumblr is full of 14 year olds' wrong tumblr is full of 24 year olds who just don't do anything. and that's okay

[transmechanicus]

I know some people have unfathomable beef with the term but i really don’t see the issue with transmascs describing their specific experiences with societal mistreatment and persecution as “transandrophobia”, like i think it’s good to be able to discuss specific experiences and articulate the problems you’re facing actually.