spending so much time fixing my sims 4 mods folder up rn fuckin watch when i do eventually get the game to a playable state my fixation will hibernate and i’ll go back to using the game as a character creator for another 8 months
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MiqoMarch Day 23 - Midnight
With their intended voyage into the void only a few days out, Arsay thought it the upmost importance that she steal her partner away to Kugane, that they might share one more fond memory together should things not turn out the way they plan in the thirteenth. It was as they crossed the very same bridge the miqo'te had once sat on together two years prior when Arsay gifted Y'shtola with a bracelet matching that of her own. A token of endearment which, Arsay confessed, she would have given to her fellow scion back then, had nerves not gotten the best of her. While their relationship has undoubtedly changed since the initial purchase of the jewellery, the sentiment remained the same. Y'shtola was someone who Arsay loved dearly and she will forever be grateful to have the seeker's life intertwined with her own. No matter where their free spirits took them, they would always hold each other in their hearts. A promise Y'shtola was more than willing to keep. She slipped the the string of beads around her wrist without a second thought. They were never to come off, not even when the two decided to delay their return to Radz-at-Han in favour of a private bath at the dead of night.
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okay but. vigilante!bakugou. with a full mask to cover his face, the only "super" one in a quirkless world. literally every dc trope ever, but i don't care because with him, it's so afhakfha.
you work together in some office job and he's always coming in late with his trousers loose and his shirt untucked. never really speaks to you, except for when there's a group task that needs to get done and your team reserves the conference room to figure out how you'll divide the work and he ends up sitting beside you somehow. borrows a pen, because he forgot one.
other than that, you just know of him, bakugou katsuki. quiet. always frowning. looks like he'd bite your head off for looking at him sideways. doesn't really catch your eye — though you agree with your coworker that he's kinda handsome when he's not scowling — and you don't think he's the kinda guy that's gonna go out for drinks after work with you and the team. and you're right, because he can't.
truth be told, you're not really interested anyway — because you're kinda-sorta, really-super into this guy dynamight, who stops by your apartment every night.
it's thanks to him that you didn't get mugged and left for dead in some alleyway a few months back, and though you think that makes him rather trustworthy, you know your friends would have a cow about the fact that you've never heard his voice or seen his face. that you're always sitting on the rooftop of your complex, waiting, until he's so close that you can feel the echo of his explosions in your chest. reverberating beneath your bones, just like your heartbeat.
you don't know why he bothers, but you also don't really care. he listens to the needless recount of your day, even huffs out a laugh at times. the most you've ever seen of him is the lower half of his face, the cut of his jaw when he took a drink from the chilled water bottle you had waiting. maybe a flash of his hair, but it'd been dark and you can't for the life of you remember if it was blonde or maybe light brown ?
the city is dying to know who he is because, despite being so explosive, he's pretty good at going quiet when he needs to; always manages to get away from the swarm of red and blue that chases him down the highway. and yeah, maybe taking justice into his own hands is a teeny bit irresponsible, okay, but you can't help but to feel a little safer, walking home under his echoing boom as he shoots across the sky.
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You said in tags once that pedophiles and child predators aren't the same, can you explain why? /GEN
For the same reason that people with any kind of attraction to anyone ever aren't all rapists/don't all pursue romantic/sexual feelings that could or definitely would hurt the other person. Because paraphilias are simply the morally neutral state of experiencing attraction and rape/grooming is Not That. Because people *choose* to hurt others, but not what they feel. Because a good majority of child sexual abusers aren't even pathologically/paraphilically attracted to children, they *just want to hurt them because they can.* Because they're dissatisfied with something in life, or want a punching bag, or want to feel powerful, etc etc.
It's not really different conceptually from physical abuse. Do people do it because they have icky feelings about liking blood or violence? No. They do it to feel powerful. Sexual abuse is not about sex but about power. Hope this answers your question. I've answered it a good million times on this blog but eh I'm in a generous mood.
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Hey, if any monsters want to take me?
Giant werewolves with tits as big, no, bigger than their dicks, strong and tall and large and powerful?
Cutesy, ditzy slimegirls who force me to choke on their brightly colored slime?
Vampires who eat me out after they literally eat from me, claws scratching into my trembling thighs?
Nagas who wrap me in their strong constructing iridescent tails while fingering me?
Giant spiderwomen making me grind on their abdomens while carrying their tits for them?
I'm, like, free this weekend after six-
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this is how ONE should've gone
(Kaito, Nahiri, and Wanderer arriving on New Phyrexia)
Nahiri: (starts manipulating metal to start plowing through the ground to head down into New Phyrexia's next sphere)
Kaito: Where are you going??
Nahiri: Down
Kaito: Down where??
Nahiri: tree
Kaito: We are missing like 7 people
Nahiri: guess they'll be late to the tree
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Teruki blinks at him, and then he’s chuckling again and bowing his head down so he only sees the beginnings of brown roots coming in. When he lifts his head again his eyes are wet, but the pinks in his aura are soaking into his soul so much that he finds it really hard to be alarmed in the trance of it.
“Please don’t apologize,” Teruki whispers, blinking away the shine that reflects the slit of sun from the window. His voice wobbles and hitches at the end, and Shigeo shifts, widens his eyes a little, but then his partner is moving.
He leans over Shigeo’s chest, arches over the cracks that seep with energy carefully. Both of his hands are suddenly around his face and Teruki’s clamping his eyes shut and pressing their foreheads together, nose to nose, soul to soul. His hair tickles Shigeo’s jaw and his knee digs into his thigh, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t mind.
The coral hues sing; the golds roar.
“Please don’t. Please don’t do that to me,” his partner teeters, and the watermelon seeping into his skin is now tainted with harsher reds, deeper magentas. He can tell Teruki is trying so hard to keep it light, to keep it gentle and comforting for him—controlling an aura when emotions are high is one of the hardest things in the world.
And yet he’s holding his partner, who is crackling apart at the seems in every sense of the word, and all that seeps from him is a little fear that get snuffed out instantly upon exit.
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