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Gender bend Mobei Jun would just have her tits out. Full nip. No boob window, no mini bikini, no bra. And yes, running and jumping is hell for her, but it’s worth it to see airplane ogling her H-cups.

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Mbj here, I'm still questioning the color decisions

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how to get close to people for beginners

getting close to people strategies

first time getting close to people walkthrough

techniques for getting close to people

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more of these freaks.... 🐹🥒

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has anyone figured out how much art you need to make to make your mental illness go away

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divorce themed restaurant menu

dessert: CUSTARDy Battle

yeah that's all i've got so far sorry

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happy pride

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Princesses Daily 012: as far as she’s concerned, all vessels are gay vessels, so nothing’s changed

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The two best reasons to ship anything are:

1.Incredible deep and detailed narrative themes. The parallels that seem to hit just right, the narrative foils that they can be to each other, the intricate dynamic that's both extremely complex and easily understood. The juxtaposition between something that's harsh and undoubtedly toxic, with the softer undertones, the parts where you read in-between the lines and find a mutual feeling of loneliness from both parts, their intrinsic understanding of each other comes from the mere fact that they're each others mirrored reflections and shadows. In the end both sides will be together forever, and you as an audience can clearly see their tragedy laid out before in a path that blurs pure anguish and tender romance

2.It would be so fucking funny

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Daily Princesses 013: TODAYRUNE is DELTARUNE !

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HORRIBLE FORCE FIELD AROUND MY ASSIGNMENTS THAT MAKES ME UNABLE TO COMPLETE THEM

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fellas is it gay to memorise your best friends heartbeat so that you always know how he's feeling and where to find him?

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you and your dreadful little polycule haven't seen the last of me

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Superbat commission

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moshang 🧎🧎🧎

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watch as promised (MoShang, SVSSS)

direct follow on from here Pining Mobei-Jun x Oblivious Shang Qinghua

“You were amazing, my king.” Shang Qinghua muffles his yawn with the back of his hand, something faintly sticky and sweet smeared across the back of it. Trays of food were escorted around the gathering, a deliberately constructed variety of bites to whisper stability in the minds of the guests, and Shang Qinghua may have sampled one or two. Or three. Or four. 

He was peckish! It might’ve been half a lifetime before this one but he isn’t about to pass up free food that someone else is paying for. He’s had a peak at Mobei-Jun’s books and, apart from someone in the treasury beginning to lightly skim off the top which he’ll sort out for his king, Mobei-Jun could afford it. 

“Qinghua enjoyed his time?” Mobei-Jun asks, shrugging out of his outer robe and stepping behind an engraved screen. The room is mostly how Shang Qinghua had pictured it with some of the dimensions shortened for the sake of realism. Luo Binghe had never needed to enter Mobei-Jun’s private quarters, so it had remained an idle daydream Airplane indulged in, along with thoughts of his landlord dropping dead and that a winning lottery ticket would be tucked into his takeaway box. One side is dominated by the bed, slightly sunken and covered by a scattering of pelts and furs. Some are familiar to Qinghua from several hours before and his thoughts stumble over the implications that the furs Mobei-Jun tipped onto his head are from his king’s bed. 

Must be because he knew they were functional to stop him from freezing. Yeah. Okay then.

Shang Qinghua coughs, tears his gaze away only for it to lock onto the screen. Fuck! 

“Yes, my king. This humble servant thanks you for the opportunity.” Airplane had never really done the whole corporate thing, but he’d gathered the basics of looking like he was engrossed in something while eavesdropping in school and whatever coffee shop was cheapest when he couldn’t stand the sight of his apartment for a second longer. It was still cool to see the demons he’d made in person, terrifying as some of his more fantastical descriptions might have been. Glowing tendrils for hair had been hauntingly ethereal for wife number five-hundred-and-something-he-had-bills-to-pay-shut-up-Cucumber-bro, but mildly terrifying in practice as the pair almost seemed to float across the main hall like a pair of haunted puppets, their eyes hidden in the shadows cast by their hair, their shape in constant fluctuation. Nightmare fuel, but safe for his king. 

Mobei-Jun’s inner robe lands to the side of the screen, his shape barely visible through a crack where the screen folds. 

“My king?” Shang Qinghua squeaks, pressing his hands to his face and peering through the gap in his fingers. 

Mobei-Jun stretches, lifts his arms over his head as he does so, and he’s still wearing his jewellery, a tangle of leather cords around one wrist woven with tiny bones and teeth, and a silver cuff on the other. His claws are sharp, indenting the flesh of his palm before he flexes them with a small snick as they extend an inch. “Qinghua watched this king as he promised? He has information for this king.”

Right. Okay. Focus. He can do this. He just needs to pretend like the most beautiful man in two worlds isn’t stripping in the same room as him. 

“The Gelu tribe are going to try and launch a coup before the end of the year.”

Mobei-Jun stills, a sudden absence of the gentle rustle of fabric, the clink of metal. Shang Qinghua’s breath fogs the air in front of him, his knuckles beginning to ache with the cold.

“Explain.”

By the time Luo Binghe rose to power, the tribe had been crushed to barely more than a branch family and one eligible daughter for him to add his harem, but the coup had been a bloodthirsty one, and Shang Qinghua would rather not be collateral in that if he can help it. He’s not as calculating as the original goods. 

“They’ve brought more members of the clan than would be expected, a four hundred percent increase from the previous year's celebration.” Shang Qinghua shifts his weight from side to side, lowering his hands to worry at the end of his sleeve. “Several of them split off from the main event to survey the local area of the castle, while the majority were entirely focused on you.”

“Not uncommon,” Mobei-Jun murmurs, stepping out from behind the screen. He’s forgone his shirt and robes entirely, dressed in a loose pair of trousers sitting low on his hips, and Shang Qinghua could die the happiest man alive right here, right now. He moves towards the bed, sitting on the edge, and begins to separate his loose hair into sections to braid it. 

Fuck’s sake, focus!!

Shang Qinghua wrote something miraculous when he wrote Mobei-Jun. 

“The gift they brought looks like a Purple-Glowing Lily but it isn’t.” Shang Qinghua takes a few steps, turns back on himself and starts to pace. His words stumble out faster, his hands splayed in front of him as he tries to explain. He might have forgotten the specifics, but the world is still his, and System be damned, he’ll keep Mobei-Jun safe until his own destruction. “It is a Violet-Grasping Lily. Closely related, but harder to find so at least they’ve put some serious effort into keeping you in one place to murder you?”

Mobei-Jun hasn’t looked away from him, his eyes dark beneath the fall of his hair. His braid is loose between his fingers, strands falling free as Shang Qinghua makes another circuit. 

“It won’t activate until the command word is said and given their location, I would think that they’ve picked a regional word.” It’s what Shang Qinghua would do, what he will do once he manages to grow the clipping he took when Mobei-Jun had passed him the gift as he had with every piece of tribute handed over. “And when it does, it will plunge roots into the ground, break stone and ice to do so, and it will thread leaves through your skin to hold you in place.”

“Qinghua is sure?” Mobei-Jun stands in one fluid motion, crossing the distance between them in a matter of seconds and Shang Qinghua can’t say for sure if the other man portalled just to get there quicker, the air heavy with frost. 

“Yes, my king.” There will be blood on Mobei-Jun’s claws by morning, bright green with the tang of old pipes, and it will be partially because of Shang Qinghua. He waits for the guilt and feels nothing but deliberate satisfaction. 

Mobei-Jun presses a clawed finger beneath Shang Qinghua’s chin, his heart stuttering as he rises up onto his toes to avoid the chill, the pressure against soft skin. “If Qinghua is lying…”

“Never, my king. This servant would never lie to you.”

(tags! @lovely-little-corvid @takeholdofthesun @oakskull )