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dollyswishingwell · 15 days ago

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💍anon - I just finished re-reading my favourite book, and now I'm just wondering what you think the lads guys would be like for a reader who is also a massive bookworm?

(also, I love love love your darker stuff so please don't be worried about posting it!❤️)

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Bookworm

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ just pure fluff

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys with a bookworm reader

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- He adores the fact that you’re a bookworm. His dreamy, delicate little wife with her legs kicked up on a satin chaise, flipping pages with starry eyes? He wants to paint you like that. Then lock you in a room filled with nothing but books, silk, and him.

- Jealous of fictional men. Absolutely. If you get too into a spicy romance book and start giggling or sighing dreamily, he’ll crawl into your lap like a cat and whimper, “You like him more than me, huh? What’s he got? Wings? Horns? A dark curse?”

- Mimics the book characters to make you laugh. You mention you’re reading about a cursed warlock? Next thing you know, he’s walking around the house in a black velvet cloak, holding a wine glass like it’s blood. “My dearest wife… have you brought me the final moonstone?”

- Doodles hearts and notes in your Kindle case. “DON’T FORGET YOUR REAL HUSBAND.” Or draws himself in your favorite book scenes, replacing the male lead. (He prints out fanart of himself as Lucien Raventhorn, don’t lie.)

- Collects books with pretty covers and doesn’t care what’s inside. “It’s pink and shiny, obviously you’ll love it, cutie.” You have 12 unread books that he bought just because the spines look cute on the shelf.

- Gets very clingy if you’re reading for hours and “forget” to give him attention. Will lay his head in your lap and mumble while you try to focus: “Pearlieee… this guy sounds so mean. You like mean boys now? You want me to start being cruel to you? Maybe I’ll go feral. Start a war. Burn a city.”

- But if you ever cry during a tragic scene, he’s instantly serious. Pulls the Kindle from your hand and cups your face. “You okay, pearl? Want me to make it better?” Then gets unreasonably pissed at the book. “What do you mean they died?! Who do I have to kill!?”

- Also: He writes you fanfic. Secretly. You’ll find a file named “SunflowerQueen_Vol1” on your tablet and it’s Rafayel’s self-insert fantasy romance where you’re the ethereal empress and he’s your cursed knight who’s obsessed with you and dies dramatically (but hotly) in your arms.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- Thinks it’s adorable. He finds you nestled in his massive custom reading nook with your knees up and your little Kindle glowing? Instant serotonin. He strokes your hair while reading patient reports beside you, secretly syncing his breathing to yours.

- Buys you medical romance and sultry surgeon smut books to tease you. “This one apparently features a brooding, emotionally unavailable doctor… sounds familiar?”

- When you’re deep into a spicy book, he’ll glance over and mutter with a smirk, “That book must be better than the real thing, huh?” But you always find him right behind you ten minutes later, kissing down your neck, whispering, “Let’s see if fiction can compete with fact.”

- Customises your collection like he’s managing your meds. Categorized. Synced. Updated. One time you couldn’t find your favorite sci-fi trilogy and Zayne just calmly pulled a physical leatherbound version off the shelf, of course he sourced it first edition.

- Keeps an eye on your posture while you read for hours and gently adjusts your legs or massages your back. “You’ll get stiff sitting like that, sweetheart.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- Thinks you’re the cutest thing in the universe when you’re reading. He loves your dreamy sighs, your little gasp when you hit a plot twist, your eyes shining when you talk about a book.

- Falls asleep in your lap while you’re reading, or tugs you under the covers. “Let me dream to the sound of your voice, starlight…”

- You’re like his personal storyteller. He’ll ask, “What’s that one about?” and you excitedly explain the plot of a spicy mafia romance and he’ll just blink and go, “…Interesting. Continue.”

- Memorizes your favorite narrators. Xavier loads up your audiobooks on your devices with enhanced audio filters so it sounds like you’re in another world. Sometimes he even records himself reading your favorite passages in that soft, sleepy tone of his.

- Thinks it’s funny how you’re immune to most dangers but will cry over a fictional death or spiral after finishing a trilogy. Cuddles you silently, brushing your hair while you wail, “I MISS THEM.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- Laughs at your dramatic reactions like, “You’re literally crying over a paper man named Aaron?” but he still hunts down rare collector’s editions of all your favorite fantasy series and has an entire wing of the estate turned into your personal library.

- Absolutely reads over your shoulder, then scoffs like it’s dumb… but then you catch him pacing later like he’s lowkey invested in the plot.

- If you ever get too into a spicy book, he’ll yank the Kindle out of your hands with a smug smirk and go, “Is this what you’re into now, kitty? You know I can do better than a cursed prince.”

- Buys you risqué titles on purpose just to see your face when you open them. “This one has a warning label. Let me know if it’s too much for you.”

- But when you talk excitedly about a story’s politics, worldbuilding, or magic system, he actually engages seriously. “You liked how the council was overthrown? Hm. Remind me to show you how a real power grab works.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- You’ve been a bookworm since childhood and he’s always been the one carrying your backpack of novels when it got too heavy. He still teases you like, “How many books do you need for a single trip to the garden?”

- Keeps a blanket in every room because he knows you’ll curl up somewhere random and read for hours. If he finds you passed out on the floor with your Kindle face down, he’ll tuck you in and carry you to bed.

- Tries to get into your favorite books just to impress you. Reads them in secret so he can say, “Yeah, I like when that guy—Lucien?—saves her from the wyverns. Not bad.”

- Feels a little jealous when you get too emotionally attached to fictional men, especially when you sigh and murmur, “I wish someone would talk to me like that.” He just throws an arm around your waist like, “You want poetic? I’ll give you poetic, pipsqueak.”

- He reads aloud to you when you’re tired, in that low, gravelly voice. Sometimes spicy scenes, sometimes tragic ones. He watches your face more than the book. “You like when he calls her that? I bet I could do it better.”

@gideonsbestiefrfr for u pookie :D

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himasgod · 3 months ago

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hello :3 i just discovered your blog, and your incredible! so i wanted to request smth for twisted wonderland! housewardens with a yuu who made music in their world & has stopped after coming to twisted wonderland? their genre is sad indie rock, like lana del ray or jeff buckley!! up to you how they find out! thank you for your time!!

Where they discover that you are a composer and singer of sad songs

HOUSEWARDENS X READER

How would the housewardens react if they somehow found out that in your world you were a writer and singer of sad indie songs, and that you stopped when you arrived in Twisted Wonderland?

It contains a bit of angst? Not too much, rather gentle. reader sings to express their feelings.

From the first day you arrived at NRC, you became a source of questions for Riddle. You weren't a troublemaker like Ace or Deuce. You didn't break the rules. But there was something that puzzled him: the way you looked at the world. As if you'd already lost everything.

Riddle noticed it when he accidentally heard you singing. It was one early morning, when he was returning to his dorm after an inspection. He found you sitting in the greenhouse, with an old guitar Cater had gotten for you. He was going to be furious, because he didn't know what you were doing out of your bedroom at that hour, but listened to you a little. The strings creaked a little, but your voice… it hurt. It was low, fragile. Like a silver thread about to snap.

“And if I ever loved, it was among the ruins, where no one listens and the sky falls…”

He froze in the doorway. Those lyrics weren't meant to be heard by just another student. They were pure confession. Riddle didn't know what to say and stepped back quietly. But from then on, he couldn't get you out of his mind.

Over time, he approached you. He asked about your world. About that music you no longer composed.

"Why did you stop composing?" he said to you one day, while you were drinking tea together in Heartslabyul.

"Because no one here wants to hear sad songs. They don't fit with the tea, the rules, or the cardboard smiles."

Riddle clutched his cup. He'd never cared about music, but with you, it was different.

"Maybe… you should break a rule," he murmured without looking at you.

It was the first time Riddle invited you to do something outside of protocol. Not because he wanted to break the rules, but because he couldn't stand seeing you suppress the only part of you that spoke without fear.

From then on, he let you use the greenhouse at night. And sometimes, just sometimes, he sat beside you and listened in silence.

Azul had always been a man of contracts and cold logic. But you… you caused him an inexplicable terror.

Not because you were dangerous. On the contrary. Because you were too honest.

In the lounge of the Mostro Lounge, you found an old dusty piano. You offered to play one quiet night, without customers. Azul accepted, thinking it would serve as a distraction for him.

He hadn't expected your songs to unearth emotions he'd sealed in the deepest corners of the ocean.

Your voice was like the sea currents that drag sunken ships.

“Everything you promised washed away with the tide… and yet, I stayed underwater waiting for you.”

Azul gulped after the first song. He didn't say anything. He just cleaned his glasses and returned to the lounge. But he started calling you more often, asking you to “practice” after closing time. He paid you with free drinks, even though you knew it wasn't for business.

It was because he wanted to hear you.

One day, while you were composing in a notebook by the aquarium, Azul approached and spoke to you, almost breathless:

"I don't understand how you can be so vulnerable without fearing being destroyed."

"Because I've been broken before. Singing is the only way I have to rebuild myself."

Azul looked at you as if you were an impossible-to-categorize creature. He wanted to understand you, he wanted to protect you…

And at the same time, he was afraid that your songs would start talking about him.

Because if you ever dared to write about Azul Ashengrotto… he knew he wouldn't be able to hide.

Leona had no patience for sentimentality. Or so he said.

When he met you, you were “that strange person who doesn't talk much and spends her time in the gardens singing depressing things.”

But over time, your melodies began to follow him, even during his naps.

Your voice drifted through the sands, like a memory he didn't want to recall.

“If the sun never rises again, promise me you'll sleep with me, among the rubble of what we once were…”

He didn't say it, but he listened. Always. And one day, after a grueling workout, he sat next to you under a tree. He didn't say anything at first. He just closed his eyes and let you sing.

“Why do you sing those things?” he asked you later, without opening his eyes.

“You seem to be carrying the weight of the world on you.”

“Because it's the only thing I have left of home. My songs were my refuge. Here… I feel like they no longer have any meaning.”

Leona looked at you then, without mockery, without annoyance. For the first time, seriously.

"You don't need a reason to keep doing what you love. The world is shitty enough without taking that away from us too."

And in that instant, without warning, he leaned against your shoulder.

As if he, too, needed a refuge.

From then on, Leona never asked you to stop singing. On the contrary, he sought you out when he needed silence. Not from outside, but from within. Because your voice, though sad, calmed him.

And when, finally, you wrote a song about him, he didn't stop you. He just closed his eyes and listened to the end. And when you finished, he murmured:

"Stay. Even if you don't sing anymore… stay."

Vil found you by accident. A recording of yours was playing in the music club. A lost file someone had rescued from an old MP3 player. When your voice resonated through the speakers, everyone fell silent. Even Rook.

“They sold me dreams in perfume bottles… but they smelled of goodbye from the start.”

Vil stood there, motionless. No one knew it was your voice.

No one except him.

He confronted you that same afternoon. Not with anger but with an unusually serious interest.

"Why didn't you tell me you wrote things like that?"

"Because everything here is for show. And my music isn't."

Vil pursed his lips, as if you'd spoken a truth he didn't want to admit. He, who lived among filters and perfection, felt your lyrics cruelly but necessarily strip him bare.

"Your songs don't need any lights. They're authentic. Brutal, even. But why let them die in this world just because they don't fit in?"

Over time, he offered you something he never offered anyone else: emotional honesty. He listened to your lyrics before anyone else, in private. Sometimes he criticized technical details, but never the soul behind them.

And when you wrote a song inspired by his constant struggle to maintain his perfect image, Vil said nothing for a long time. Finally, he murmured:

"That part where you say 'being beautiful hasn't saved me from emptiness'… it hurts. Because it's true."

From then on, he allowed you to sing for him after his private shows. Not for others. For him.

For Idia, sadness has always been a constant, like a wallpaper you don't even notice anymore. That's why, when he happened to hear one of your old recordings—filed nameless in a corner of the computer system—he thought someone else had hacked his soul.

“I'm still here, even if no one looks for me… like a dead star that still shines in the darkness.”

Idia was scared. Literally.

He avoided you for days. Not because he didn't like you. But because your music made him feel exposed. As if you were reading his darkest thoughts without asking permission.

But one day, he left you an anonymous note along with some headphones and a recording of himself.

“I'm not a poet or a singer, but this is what your music made me feel. Sorry if it's garbage.”

It was a distorted, glitchy sound file, full of static… but in the background, there was your voice, mixed with his, singing a phrase of yours:

“If you get lost, I'll wait for you in the void.”

From that moment on, a strange connection was born between you. You never spoke much in person, but he would send you remixes of your own songs, text you comments, and ideas for new lyrics. Sometimes you would share lyrics without a melody, and he would send you back sounds that felt like digital wails.

And although Idia would never admit to crying to one of your songs… he did save one in his “life.exe” folder.

Kalim was the sun. You were the rain. But for some reason, he kept looking for you.

The first time he heard you sing, he was organizing a party in Scarabia. It was all noise, laughter, and colors. Until you sat down at the piano unbidden.

“Happiness slips through my fingers, like sand underwater…”

The party didn't stop, but something changed. Kalim watched you as if he'd just discovered the sky could cry, too.

After that, he searched for you constantly. He asked you about every lyric, every note, every unspoken tear.

"Did you always feel all that? Even when you smile?"

"Smiling doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, Kalim."

He didn't fully understand, but he wanted to. He started reading your notebooks. Learning your silences. Inviting you to play in more intimate moments, away from the hustle and bustle. Even though he was cheerful, Kalim never made fun of your sadness. On the contrary, he embraced you with all the tenderness he possessed.

"Maybe I don't write sad songs," he told you one day.

"But if you need them to breathe, I want to be there to listen to each one."

And secretly, he began to compose little melodies for you. Poorly written. Out of tune. But made from the heart.

Malleus didn't quite understand the music of your world. At first, he thought it was a strange form of spell. How could a melody have so much power… without magic?

The first time he heard you sing was in a secluded corner of Diasomnia, an old tower with some gargoyles, where you went to avoid being disturbed.

“I am the last word in a story no one wanted to finish…”

Malleus said nothing. He just watched you from the shadows, as if you were a ritual he shouldn't interrupt.

Days later, he appeared before you.

"Your music reminds me of the voice of time, human. Sad. Irreversible."

It surprised you that someone like him understood something so human. But he did. Malleus understood loneliness. Isolation. The feeling of being eternal in a world that ends too soon.

"Why don't you sing so much anymore?" he asked you one night in the rain.

"Because I feel like there's no one who truly listens here."

Malleus approached, slowly, taking your hand.

"I listen. And every word of yours stays engraved in me like a spell. Don't deprive me of that magic."

From then on, he invited you to sing under the stars. Just for him. Because in you, Malleus found something that not even power could give him: a truth that wouldn't disguise itself.

A sadness that wouldn't hide.

And when one day you cried between verses, Malleus simply embraced you with his arms. You were not alone anymore.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted x reader #twisted wonderland one shot #housewardens x reader #riddle x reader #azul x reader #malleus x reader #idia x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #leona x reader #twst x yuu

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olomaya · 7 months ago

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Snowflake Day Tree + Activities

I actually started to make this two years ago and forgot about it but then I got the idea to do it again and remembered that I had already written most of the code. It was sort of like finding money in your pocket you'd forgotten about. 😂

Much like in real life, I prefer to spend my holidays in-game with family instead of randoms and I just want to open presents without having to throw a Gift Giving party. So I made a Christmas Snowflake Day tree to do that where you can decorate and add gifts to open on Snowflake Day.

I also added some holiday activities for kids and toddlers if you have the More Activities Activity Table. It's an add-on so you need that mod (and whatever requirements go with it) if you don't already.

Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

More info after the cut and Updates here

Decorate the Tree (this is meant as a joinable group activity so you can invite others to join; up to 4 Sims (child+) can decorate)

Add Tree Topper (if you have any)

Hang Ornaments (if you have any)

Turn On/Off Lights (if decorated)

Admire Ornaments (sims may get a nice holiday moodlet - Holiday Memories buff)

Add Gift for…

Look at Presents (get information on how many gifts are under the tree and to whom)

Steal Presents (only for Klepto, rebellious, Evil, Mean-spirited; you will get in trouble if someone sees)

Sneak a Peek at Presents - to check out any of your gifts

Invite Everyone to Open Presents - for Snowflake Day, brings everyone on the lot to open gifts under the tree; if someone doesn’t have gifts, they will watch others open presents and if they are in the household they will get a sad buff. Gifts improve relationship score if Sims like it; does nothing if they don’t but if they get too many gifts they don’t like, they can complain about it.

Open Gifts - self explanatory. If you don’t want to gather everyone together, you can open gifts at any time on Snowflake Day. Depending on how many gifts you like/don't like, you will get a special moonlet (Feeling Grateful/Bummer Holiday)

Take Down Decorations

Put Away Tree

Sims can also:

This is a one-time interaction that Sims can use on any family or household member. If a sim gets what they asked for, they will get a special buff (Just What I Wanted)

Thank for Presents (if they had a particularly good Snowflake Day)

Complain about Presents (if they had a bad one)

With the MAAT add-on, children and toddlers can also:

Make handmade ornaments and hang them on the tree. The ornaments can be stored in the decorations box.

Make handmade Snowflake Day cards for friends and family (kids only). You can give them directly to Sims or put them under the tree as a gift.

Notes and Recommendations:

To be able to utilize all the tree features, make sure there is enough space around the entire tree for Sims to gather and interact with the tree

Your Sims need to have a giftable object in their personal or household inventory to add a present to the tree

When a Sim has asked for a gift, the game checks whether any of the gifts they receive are in the same buy subcategory or object type as what they asked for so if, as example, a kid asks for a toy and you get them a cc toy that is categorized as a plant or deco object in the game, it’s not going to count.

To gift jewelry, you need the TS3 Store Jewelry Machine or any custom wearable jewelry objects that is the same object type as the Store Jewelry box object

If you don't have my activities table mod and don't want it, then don't download the two MAAT files.

Requires Generations, Showtime (actually I don't think you need Showtime. I think I wanted to use something from it but then didn't but I'm sure one of you will confirm for me 😭) and Seasons

Details and Instructions:

The tree and box can be purchased in the Entertainment/Hobbies Section (300 and 200, respectively), the tree topper in the Misc Deco (90) or they can all be found in the custom Snowflake Day collection file.

To decorate the tree, your Sim needs both the tree object and the decorations box. Custom ornaments and tree toppers go into the decorations box.

The tree comes with a default decoration but you can create and add your own tree decorations. The file has an XML (HolidayTreeDecorations) where you can add the Resource Key, Group ID for the OBJD of the decoration, whatever name you want to call it, whether you want it to light up or not, and the image (if you don’t want a custom image, just use the default one in my first entry).

Credits: Meshes by EA, tree deco is from Coral Island (I hope Stairway Games doesn't come for me!!) and the ornaments are by me and Freepik. Images are EA and Flaticons. Animations by EA and me.

Download here

#s3cc #s3cc download #sims 3 cc #snowflakeday #holiday activities

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pforestsims · 5 months ago

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Replacement for wonky sunglasses, Bon Voyage EP.

🕶️☀️Retro Sunglasses [BV] /YF-EF/ Default

Download: BOX | SFS | MEGA New polycount: 1050

Package contains GMDC/Txtr/TXMT resources. This replacement is not compatible with recolors or 'texture-only' defaults for original glasses. Might clash with age conversions (are there any?...)

Note: Sometimes a strange bug makes these glasses load into CAS very distorted. This also occurs in unmodded game.

Obviously I'm not a fan of original shape/textures and it seems like most of you share my feelings about it.

While browsing Splatoon 2 models I spotted these sunglasses (Double Egg Shades) and decided it would be a nice replacement.

FYI I won't be making custom version, if anyone wants to do that, go ahead.

Forgot to take a side pic so here's crappy bodyshop prev. Before and after:

Default file contains four 384x384 px frame textures and three 64x256px lense textures. Black and tortoise-shell (original green) sunglasses use the same lense color.

if you'd like to edit black lenses to be lighter or darker, without editing texture - open default file in SimPe, click on ufaccessorysunglassesretro_lens_black_green_txmt , Categorized Properties Tab. Find stdMatAlphaMultiplier line and lower the value to make lense more transparent, or increase the value to make it darker (max 1.000000). Remember to commit changes and save.

-------------------------------------------------------------

I've managed to capture the bug in action. I have no clue what causes it and how to fix it - I've seen it happen to at least one other kind of TS2 glasses, also - I think it only happens in CAS (??).

#sims 2 #the sims 2 #ts2 defaults #CAS

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yetrop · 2 months ago

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Good Omens is autistic—here’s why!

First off, there’s the angelic/demonic nature of the protagonists

They’re trying to blend in with humanity, but have to pick things up as they go along

Because of this, the way they interact with and view people is different from the expected norm

Which also means they're often confused by human customs and find it difficult to read social cues (think Aziraphale asking Maggie if she actually thinks she isn’t crying later on in this scene)

Crowley has to hide his eyes, a part of his identity, from everyone except Aziraphale and the other demons for fear of seeming different/threatening/not human (masking in the most literal sense of the word)

Muriel is concerned with acting and speaking “correctly” to be seen as human

Even though both main characters don’t fit in with humanity because of their angelic/demonic nature, they also don’t fit in with their respective sides, who view them both as strange and don’t understand them. The only place they find acceptance/belonging is with each other. If that isn’t a neurodivergent (and very queer) storyline, I don’t know what is.

Next up, there’s Aziraphale as a whole

The way he stims

Loves routine, dislikes change

Gets uncomfortable when he has to break rules/disrupt order

Taking things literally— “You can’t drive my Bentley.” “I can— I have a license!” (also, this scene is another example of his insistence on order and rules— he insisted on getting a license before they were even legally required)

Paces back and forth talking to himself, planning out what he’s going to say before a conversation (scripting)

The way he suppresses stimming around Heaven by clasping hands behind back, feels uncomfortable and overstimulated there

Bookshop is super cluttered, he has an organizational system that is comprehensible to basically exclusively him

Clumsy, often sucks at motor coordination

Easily startled

He loves alone time, especially when he’s in his own space— he does everything he can to keep customers away from his bookshop

Attaches a lot of sentimental value to inanimate objects (“I’ve kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years!”)

Incredibly passionate about his interests, especially magic and books

Black and white thinking and rigid morality— He loves and trusts Crowley more than the other angels, but still has tendency to categorize Heaven, Hell, angels and demons as exclusively good or bad (“of course you didn’t go back to Hell— you’re the bad guys!”)

Crowley’s definitely got something neurodivergent going on too (leaning towards ADHD, but potentially AuDHD)

The way he sits in chairs

Hell, (…or Heaven, whatever…) even just the “ducks!” moment alone is enough to show that that his mind jumps around a lot to unexpected loose threads rather than focusing on the subject at hand

Impulsivity

Creative and has a vivid inner world. As pointed out by God Herself, he has what the other demons don’t— an imagination

Craves novelty, frequently changes appearance

Stimming starmaker

This one is from the book, but it’s too good not to point out: the way he idolizes characters like Bond and copies his behaviors off of what he thinks a cool human would do. He has a new computer because it’s “the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have” (pg 239)

His understanding of how humans fall in love is based on a Richard Curtis film he’s seen

His insistence on asking questions when things don’t make sense to him, knowing why things are the way they are rather than blindly accepting them

And of course, there’s the themes of the story

Black and white thinking vs shades of grey

Breaking away from a world that doesn’t accept you to find love, belonging, and safety

And, as demonstrated time and time again by our two protagonists: intelligence isn’t synonymous with interpersonal skills (…or common sense.)

Thanks for reading all of that! This isn’t the kind of post I normally make, but I have so many thoughts about this that have been on my mind for almost two years now, so I decided to share them.

While there are of course a lot of plot-related reasons for why they behave the way that they do and many of the traits I brushed on could be explained by other factors, I still find it interesting to explore it through a neurodivergent lens. I also think the existence of angels with physical disabilities (like Saraqueal) adds credibility to the idea that other types of disabilities or neurodivergence is at the very least possible for angels and demons in this universe.

Feel free to point out anything I forgot to include (which I have no doubt is a lot) and let me know your own thoughts in the comments or tags— I’d love to hear them!

#good omens #good omens meta #Aziraphale #crowley #actually autistic #autism #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #gomens #ineffable fandom #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #good omens analysis #go2

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curlysswirlywirly · 16 days ago

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THE PERFECT HERO

⋆ IZUKU MIDORIYA has a very difficult time looking anywhere else but your soft, pink, glossy lips when he sees you now. he genuinely can’t stop thinking about you and hates himself for it. you were always spectacular, even back when you were just fifteen year olds at ua, but now you’re larger than theory, too bright for his brain to process entirely. he remembers that your jokes were always funnier than they had any right to be, he remembers that your technique always flawless. you were top of the class in every department except written strategy, and he helped with that, sliding his annotated notebooks into your desk during lunch insisting nervously that it wasn’t a big deal. but it WAS a big deal. you never teased him for his neat handwriting or the fact that he color-coded your strengths in pastel highlighters, which he appreciated. you were loud about your admiration for your classmates, loud about his worth in a way he couldn’t be for himself yet.

his admiration never went away. it mutated, gained complexity, got messier when you got taller and braver and wore lip gloss that glinted in a way he didn’t know how to categorize. even now, he corrects inaccuracies on your hero wiki page during sleepless nights, anecdotes about your first joint patrol, quotes he remembers you mumbling while dozing off in class, habits you still have. you always crack your knuckles before a solo mission. you always write thank-you cards to your support engineers by hand. you always give 103%. he remembers all of it. he’s never forgotten a second of it. he stumbles around you, hands flailing, throat dry, and you make it worse. he can’t look at you when you speak too earnestly. he can’t focus when you nudge his arm or put your sunglasses on his head like it’s normal. it’s not normal, you’re just not normal anymore. you touch him when you laugh, you praise him publicly, you once called him your favorite hero to train with in a q&a and he blacked out, phone slipping from his hand, heart going ballistic in his chest. your praise has always been disproportionate. too bright, too sweet, too difficult to forget. too, too, too, TOO MUCH!!! his twitter algorithm feeds him your campaigns because he either favorites, likes or re-watches everything having to do with you at least five times. your lectures, blurry fan cams of you entering summits in custom couture. he thinks he might love you. not hero-love either, literal, actual, pink hearts sweeping over his head love. but that’s laughable, ridiculous, stupid, impossible.the list of synonyms for never going to happen goes on. you are mythic now. he tries not to read your interviews anymore, they make this unbearable fixation of his worse in ways he doesn’t have language for.

⋆ SHOTO TODOROKI used to catch you watching him between class drills, your eyes darting away too fast, cheeks flushed warm even before he’d even have a chance to say anything. you’d stammer when he asked to pair with you or when he asked what you were doing for lunch, always polite and sweet, but visibly rattled every time he held eye contact with such intensity. he used to wonder why you couldn’t just look at him the way you looked at everyone else, now he understands it a little better. you don’t look at him the way you look at others because you don’t speak to him the way you speak to others. he liked the way you reacted to him, and he likes it even more that you never outgrew your virus on him. back then, he didn’t know what to do with the feeling that came from being wanted by someone so genuine. he will never admit to this with his own words, but he finds a kind of selfish comfort in that. you’ve grown in every direction possible for a pro-hero. your name is on magazines, your commentary is quoted in political circles, your photoshoots stop traffic. but only he still gets the version of you that looks down and fidgets when he compliments your work. maybe it’s terrible of him, but he likes that you still get nervous around him. he thinks about your pretty, manicured hands when you sign autographs, no ring on your finger, yet.

he thinks about your back when you turn to leave press events before him, maybe he might one day see more of that, who knows. he will admit that he likes the backless gowns the best, only to you. at the last gala, he had one hand on the small of your back as you made your way down the press lane, guiding you half a step in front of him in a sort of presentation of yourself, but only to those deserving. one of which, by his own silent decree, none of them were. you were already tilting into him slightly from the pressure of his hand when the strap of your gown slipped slightly. you’d stopped breathing the moment his fingers met your shoulder and didn’t start again until he swept the pad of his thumb over the fabric just once to settle it, then let his hand slide down lazily back to the curve of your waist where he left it without ceremony. your chin dipped slightly, but you didn’t look at him, and he didn’t ask you to. you didn’t thank him, and he wouldn’t have liked it if you had. you were walking again before he’d decided to, all calm movements and glossy lips that parted just enough to let out a quiet exhale he caught more than heard.

he thinks about what it would feel like to have you every day, less as performance and more as possession. just the trusted, shared things between you too. zipping you into those gowns instead of waiting for you at the car. lifting them over your head instead of watching you pose in them from beside a backdrop. sharing a bathroom sink in the early evening while you pin your hair up so it doesn't leave impressions on the pillow. he can see you in his dress shirt and nothing else, biting the cap off your gloss while asking if he’s coming back to bed anytime soon. he can see himself kneeling on the cool tile floor just to mouth at the insides of your thighs while you tell him he’s getting your robe wet.

⋆ KATSUKI BAKUGO knows how stupid it is, really. he knows how far beneath you he sounds when he thinks things like she stood close to me once or she asked me something about my gauntlets during that tower breach or i know what perfume she wore at the tokyo exhibit because it stayed on the collar of my jacket for hours after she hugged me. it’s sooooo pathetic to him. he’s one of the highest-ranking heroes in the country and he still looks like he’s waiting for permission to want you. he’ll touch you only when necessity requires. he’ll do it cleanly in a way that seems like it never meant anything anyway. but later he’ll replay it in his mind, hating himself for needing it so bad he might actually go insane. he #requiresthat. you’re one of those things that doesn’t get less intense with time. every fight, every press appearance where you wear something drop-dead gorgeous and smile with your eyes half-lidded. he likes that you never play dumb and that you never play anything. your confidence is unnerving because it’s real. you say things like bakugo’s my favorite sparring partner, he hits hard but listens into microphones not knowing it caused a five-day-long spiral he had to drink himself out of. he doesn't talk to you much because he knows he won’t be able to stop once he starts. you once leaned over him in a press box to whisper something stupid, probably about someone’s outfit but your mouth was too close to his ear and he didn’t catch a word. you smiled when he turned to look at you and asked if he was even listening, and all he could do was nod like an idiot because of course he was but also no, not really. he was just trying to survive the sound of your voice. he wants you something ugly. raw i mean aww. most likely not even in the way anyone else does (expect shoto). he wants you in his passenger seat, eating something greasy and kissing him between bites. he’s not a natural flirt. you make jokes and he just huffs, arms crossed, trying not to give away how much he likes the sound of your laugh. he keeps his hands at his sides so he doesn’t grab your waist and spin you around like he wants to. he calls you ridiculous when your dress has a slit up the side, but only because marry me would come out too fast if he opened his mouth any wider.

he’s not proud of how quick his thumb moves to hit report on the thirstier tiktok comments, how often he screens your name before bed just to make sure there’s no new photo dump he hasn’t memorized yet. he’s not even active on social media like that, he doesn’t even follow you. always says it’s for “professional boundaries” but still manages to watch your entire panel circuit in 4k, on mute, rewinding to the part where you tilt your head, laugh into your palm, say thank you for asking, that mission was rough but bakugo really kept us afloat with that stupid soft look like he didn’t hear about it from five different people already.

he hates your plus ones. the sleazy, rich guys you let tag along and the smug way they hover when you show up to award balls or summit dinners, hand loosely on your waist when they earned no right. he hates that you don’t push them off and he hates even more that they exist at all!

he once saw someone call you mommy under a slow-mo clip of your face turning in profile during a red carpet walkthrough. he sat in his car for ten minutes after practice and flagged the comment three times from separate burner accounts. for spam, for harassment, for misleading information. misleading because that’s his face to want. his version of you to think about. his midnight fantasy when he’s bruised and too wired to sleep and you posted something with a slit. you’d probably laugh if you knew. ask him if he’s the morality police now. maybe lean in real close and tell him to stop looking if he doesn’t like what he sees. but that’s the problem. you’re the only thing he does like looking at.

⋆ TENYA IIDA didn’t mean to sleep with you the first time. or the second time. or the third and fourth and fifth. obviously it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. he’s the thirteenth-ranked hero in japan. nationally beloved, awarded, revered, no scandals, no exposés, no mistresses or mistress rumors, and yet he still thinks he should be getting a tax break for the way you sigh into his mouth when you ride him after state dinners. you had made it embarrassingly clear that you’d wanted him since ua, back when you used to trail him through hallways in your regulation skirt and nudge his elbow with your pencil when he was getting too righteous over team grades. you were always bold with him, something about his discipline seemed to bring out your worst, and he let it. he remembers those weeks before finals where you sat on his desk instead of in your seat, swinging one leg, telling him you studied better when people looked at you. you never stopped saying things like that. it got worse after graduation, worse when your suits got tighter, worse when your agency grew legs and broke through city lines, worse when you started sitting beside him at joint events with that look that said you knew exactly what you did to his blood pressure.

now you share a bed most nights. sometimes his place or sometimes yours. you show up in silk, in nothing, in one of his pressed undershirts and boxer briefs and stretch your arms when you know he’s looking. he tells himself that this is temporary, harmless even. after all, it’s not really breaking code if nobody reports it and neither of you ever say what it is, right? that’s part of the charm. no one else has seen the number-four hero panting, flushed, bare from the waist up. no one else gets your early-morning stretch and your raspberry jam kisses and the way you say tenya under your breath, sweet and amused and all his. you call him ‘sir’ when no one’s listening and moan when he tells you to behave.

there’s a photograph on his phone he’s never shown anyone, one you took in his bed last spring your hair was tousled, rosy cheeks warm from the bath, cotton sheets slung low around your waist and his glasses resting crooked on your face because you insisted you looked smarter in them. he has the original file backed up three different ways. he opens it more often than he opens his schedule. you never push and demand he announce or solidify the legitimacy of your frequent intimacy, even if you know it would make him feel better. you never even ask what it means when you press your knee between his thighs under a hotel blanket and call him tenya instead of iida, when you link your ankle behind his at embassy debriefs and whisper things that make his face go tight and red. it isn’t a game for you, you want him plainly, always have. you once told him his mind was the sexiest thing about him and then proved it, mouth parted, head tilted, cooing quiet into his throat until he nearly forgot where he was.

you don’t kiss and tell. there are no leaks, no gossip, and no rumors except the ones people dream up when you two arrive to panels in separate vehicles but leave in one. he should have said no, he did say no! on the first time. but then you asked if he wanted you to leave and he didn’t and he hasn’t, not once. you pull him in by the belt loop when you want him closer. you fix his glasses for him before he testifies. you say things like you’re my favorite boy in the room and pretend it’s a joke but look up through your lashes anyway. he’s never touched you in daylight. he’s never so much as brushed your cheek in public. but everyone can tell something’s off when you sit too far apart, when your shared silence on stage is a little too loaded, when you both leave early from post-conference mixers and his hair is messed up the next morning.

he takes pride in the fact that you chose him, that you keep choosing him, and that when the doors close and your heels come off, it’s his bed, his hands, his name. always his.

⋆ DENKI KAMINARI AND HANTA SERO like every photo within minutes of you posting, quotes your captions like gospel, publicly thirst. half of denki’s explore page is you, the other half is people dressing like you, talking like you, trying to analyze your powers or trace your skincare. you replied with a tongue-out emoji to one of his comments a few months ago and he still brings it up when he’s drunk. he’s not delusional, he knows you’re miles above his league. not just in rank either, though you are, comfortably, more elite than most of your former class. but in appeal, magnetism, and aura that never feels manufactured. he says damn, she’s like if moonlight could punch someone through a building. sero said that doesn’t make any sense, and then bookmarked the tiktok that made him think of it.

sero plays it cooler, but only slightly. he’s the type to send you your own screenshots like yo is this from the west coast tour? cause wtf you snapped. he comments on your photos with too many emojis. he uses the word slay because he knows it makes you laugh. calls you queen and and mami interchangeably. he’s been a fan so long it doesn’t even feel ironic. if anything, it’s loyalty.

one time you called them the funniest men in japan and neither of them have recovered. they’ve watched every interview, read every profile, sent each other mirror selfies when you wore their merch on accident. they bring you up in interviews and pretend it was prompted. sero once corrected a fan’s misquote about your quirk and got ratioed in the replies by shippers. they are your biggest supporters. unapologetically, and everyone knows it. you flash a smile and they fold like twin lawn chairs. if you ever asked, they’d carry your bags, bring your mic, moderate your comment sections, fight your exes. anything. you’re their hero’s hero.

and you play alllll the way into it. call them my boys when they hype you up online. toss them kisses at events. let denki hold your phone and sero carry your heels when the night runs long. they’d never take it too far. but they’s never take it for granted either.

⋆ DABI wants to ruin you but he also wants to watch you work. how your throat bobs when you speak through your comms, how you frown when things don’t go as planned and smile when they suddenly do. you’re too good to exist in his world but you stay in it anyway, just long enough. he knows you hate the paparazzi because you said so in an offhand tweet at 2:37 a.m that got deleted twenty minutes later. he knows you hate being followed and yet you always look good from behind. he’s never met a hero who blushes when she taunts, whose lashes flutter when she flies backward from impact. he sees you in battle more than anyone else. no one’s been sent to chase him as often. not hawks, not endeavor. you. always you. you show up late, show up alone, always say his name in a whisper tone that loves.

he never liked heroes. he hated the ones on the cereal boxes or the ones whose endorsements played between commercials for tamagotchis and toy weapons. he hated the smiling plastic men who gave his little brother pats on the head and fake smiles that never touched their eyes. they were always lying. the posture, the slogans, the straight white teeth and the press-trained cadence, all of it was lies. he figured out young that being a hero didn’t mean saving people it meant being adored for doing the bare minimum.

he saw your agency’s debut video the night it dropped. your whole roster standing under spotlights, suits pressed, posture militant. you stepped forward when they introduced your name. so flawless, so clean. you had your little speech memorized. low heels, perfect arch. hair up but a few strands loose. so delicate, so controlled. so perfect. you were everything he despised, of course. but damn.

you think your location history is private but it’s not. you think your apartment is secure but it’s not. he’s watched you come home at 2am, slip off your shoes in the dark, lean against the fridge while waiting for something to heat. he likes the guys you bring home even less than he likes heroes. they don’t get you and they don’t touch you right.

he’d do it right, he’d take his time. he’d start slow, tell you what he thinks of those little live interviews you do, he’d put his mouth where your hero name is tattooed on your hip and say your real one instead.

he knows you feel it too. you want someone to ruin your image. you want someone who sees what’s under the surface and wants you anyway. he thinks about how much of a scandal it would be. how bad it’d look for you. thinks about how you’d let it happen again.

you like tight dresses and fine jewelry and dresses that cling to your hips and leave your back completely open. he likes them too. he speaks low when you’re close. tells you you’re looking better than usual, asks if you’re getting stronger just to impress him, tells you to stay a little longer next time. says you fight prettier when your hair’s up. calls you miss universe wnd princess when you roll your eyes and put distance between you. you’ve hit him hard enough to fracture a rib. you’ve also hesitated once. that’s all he needed. he wants to show up at your door just to see if you’d open it. he imagines catching you just out the shower and seeing how flustered you get, towel slipping, hair soaked. he wants to take you someplace no hero should go, make you forget your own agency’s name. he wants you to say his name when you come, because you mean it. because it could be real.

he’s not shy about any of this. he touches your wrist when he parries, lets his palm linger on your hip when you slip during hand-to-hand and try to catch yourself on him. breathes against your neck when he pins you. this is flirting! you’re not soft or naive but you keep letting him walk away and he’s decided that means something. you always look over your shoulder once. once during the fight, once after it ends. no one notices except him. he doesn’t show mercy to anyone else but he never burns where it’ll scar. says it’s because he wants you spotless for when he finally pulls you down and ruins you right. you really shouldn’t entertain it, nor should you get warm when he says your name in a room that’s already on fire. you’ll come around. you always make the first move. he’s counting on it.

miiiight do a part two idk

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #deku x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #iida x reader #kaminari x reader #sero x reader #dabi x reader

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nectar-cellar · 5 months ago

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4t3 Conversion: Barbeque Moustache by Golyhawhaw

This is a texture-only conversion, there is no mesh, so I admit it looks a bit weird when viewed from the side. But I still think it turned out nicely.

Original here

Fully recolourable

Custom thumbnail

Categorized as beard facial hair, or lipstick makeup

Download: simfileshare / mega

#s3cc #ts3cc #ts3 #the sims 3 #dl: beard #bringing my old men out of the sim bin to take pics :3

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tvickiesims · 9 months ago

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4t2 Aquarium Stands

Because Sims 2 aquariums are very complex objects that are nearly impossible to edit, there are no "real" big fully animated custom aquariums out there. But this set contains 4 aquariums converted from Sims 4 in a form of stands to fit the base game 2-tile aquarium to make you feel like you have some new ones 😀 I made them for my game quite some time ago but decided it was time to share.

These stands can be placed under Maxis aquariums without cheats to achieve a new look. They are categorized under General - pets, CEP is required.

To achieve the best look, this set also contains edited objects from @pforestsims' AquaBox Makeover Kit. I recommend first getting the kit (because it's gorgeous and because it'll let you cutomize your aquariums even more) and then replace some files with my edits. I mainly made the overlay lamps and table intersect with other objects without cheats and set their price to 0 (you already payed for aquarium and stands). There might be something else I edited, but I don't remember now.

I also included two recolors for aquariums - one recolor from @shastakiss (originally a Cluedo default) and another from vanilla aquarium and edited them to fit the new stands. These recolors require combining with my edits of Pforest's objects and are especially useful if you keep their defaults (purely for variety reasons). The set is also compatible with Pet Stories aquarium, the invisible stand recolor is included but not the object itself.

One stand is a conversion from Max20's Master Bedroom set.

There's also a file called "Tvickiesims_AquariumNoSideShadows_DR" - it's a default replacement for 2-tile Maxis aquarium to remove shadows, this is not a must-have file but I recommend keeping it for best looks with my stands.

How to use:

Compressed, clearly labelled, picture and collection file are included.

🐡🐠🐟Download at SFS🐟🐠🐡

#bytvickiesims #4t2 #aquarium #aquarium stands #sims 2 pets

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theonion · 3 months ago

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Defending the law enforcement agency from criticism about detaining thousands of people who had been living or seeking asylum in the U.S., Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials argued Tuesday that migrants in their camps are free to die at any time. “It’s been our position from the beginning that if anyone we’ve detained doesn’t like it here, they’re welcome to drop dead,” said ICE acting director Mark Morgan, adding that accusations about poor conditions at the agency’s facilities completely ignored the fact that migrants were categorically permitted to expire at any time of their choosing.

Full Story

#the onion #news #politics #ICE

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taodarlington · 29 days ago

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SEXTAPE , deftones .ೃ࿐ todoroki shoto

SYNOPSIS : todoroki shoto hates his father. obviously. but, there's someone that knows just how to take his mind off of his inner turmoils.

NOTES : i don't know what to categorize this as, i got lazy at the end i'm so sorry please don't hate me, no use of y/n

as a child, todoroki shoto never had time to himself.

his days and nights were spent within the confines of his household, one he never really called home. yes, he did eat, sleep, and live there, but it wasn't really living. it was just surviving.

his father, enji, was what he would call an absolute asshole. his heart clenched with rage at the very sight of that man, hating him with all his might.

when he was seven, todoroki shoto ran away from home after witnessing his father fight with his older sister, fuyumi, again. he didn't know where to go, as he was never allowed outside, so he just ran. ran until his lungs burned, until his palms were sweaty and his feet ached with every step.

the boy ran, and ran. once he was far away, he collapsed in the grass of a play park, staring up at the gloomy sky as his vision blurred with tears. hot, raging tears.

what did he do in his past life to be born this way? to have a father who saw him as a tool, a mother who couldn't stand the sight of him, older siblings that he never really was able to be properly introduced to? he wished for it all to be a dream. no, a nightmare. a horrible, long--

"are you okay?"

todoroki gasped, sitting upright immediately. there, standing right infront of him, was another kid. round-faced and knobbly-kneed, like him.

todoroki shoto shook his head, looking down at the ground. "no. i'm not. i.. i'm mad."

you frowned, crouching down and sitting on the grass across from him. "what are you mad about? maybe i can help."

the boy sniffed, wiping away his tears with his sleeve. "you can't." he answered plainly, wishing you would go away as to not see him in this state. he didn't want you to get hurt by his words, or anything he might do, so sending you away as soon as possible was the best option.

however, you just offered him a small smile. "well, maybe i can at least help you." and with that, you stood up, grabbing his hands and pulling you up with him. "everything's going to be okay. i promise. i don't really know you, but that doesn't matter! everything will turn out just fine, okay?"

and for a second, todoroki shoto saw that determined look in your eyes, and really did believe your words. he looked up at you, a flicker of doubt settling on his face. "what do you know? you're just.. a kid."

"so are you!" you cleared your throat. "you know what? i know something that will make you feel better. let's play.. let's play flower shop!"

todoroki stared at you with a bewildered look. "..play flower shop??" to which you nodded. "yes, flower shop!" you grabbed his hand, pulling him under the bottom of the playground slides and sitting down with him. "i'll be the flower girl, and you can be the customer! my flower girl name will be.. marigold! what's your customer name?"

todoroki was extremely confused. why was this random kid asking him to play flower shop? and.. fake names? really? he frowned at you. "i don't see how this is important."

you waved him off. "it's super important, because we're playing pretend! now pick a name, silly!"

todoroki gave himself two seconds before answering. "shoto."

"what kinda flower is that?" you asked, but you didn't give him a chance to explain before moving on and telling him about the different flowers you had on sale (piles of mulch and leaves).

as you blabbed on about gardenias, todoroki's anger towards his father and the tugs of grief in his heart slowly faded away. he stopped thinking about how horrible his life was, because sitting there, with you, some random kid, filled him with a sense of contentment. the corners of his lips quirked up into the smallest of smiles.

"oh, right, i just realized! i don't know your name!" you gasped, suddenly dropping the leaves you had bundled up.

"you already know my name. it's shoto." todoroki said, not realizing that you had thought of his given name as his so-called flower shop name.

you laughed, your voice bouncing off the metal poles and plastic slide. "i see. so you don't wanna tell me your real name. okay, then i won't tell you mine, either!"

"um, no, that's not what i-"

you shushed him, insisting on telling him about your new bouquet of wildflowers.

todoroki pursed his lips

ten minutes later, when your mother had called you away to go home, he finally decided it was time to go home. he followed the landmarks he had seen while running. he snuck in through his estate's back gate, climbing through his unlocked window and flopping onto his bed. it seemed as though his father hadn't noticed that he had left.

he didn't run away again. not when his father forced his intensive training to the ground, not when he started to despise his left side, not when he was offered an escape from his household in middle school, not even when he applied to u.a. high to officially start his journey as a hero.

todoroki shoto had turned into a cold, stoic boy. in his mind, he'd attend this school for three years, graduate, and become the best hero. without using the curse of a power his father had given him.

as he shrugged on his uniform, he took another look at himself in the mirror. those tear-filled eyes of his had become dull, his shoulders broad, and his hands taut. he grabbed his backpack and headed out the door without so much as a word to his sister nor brother.

todoroki arrived early to campus. he found his seat at the back of his classroom, class 1a, and sat down. setting his bag in his desk compartment, he folded his arms on the table and laid his head in his hands, closing his eyes.

he wasn't here to make friends. he was here to prove his father wrong, and that was his sole goal at this institute.

todoroki quietly stood up when his new teacher, aizawa-sensei, announced for all to change into their physical education uniforms and head out to the fields. he lingered near the back of the group, eyes straight forward and staring at the back of the heads of strangers.

"agh!" todoroki had unknowingly bumped into another student. he turned around, sparing them a glance and expecting to just go back to where he was going, but something made him stop and stare.

"sorry! i wasn't watching where i was-- huh?" you looked up at him, a puzzled expression on your face as he turned around fully to face you, looking like he had just discovered the meaning of life.

"are you okay?"

there it was. it was you, and those were the first words you had ever spoken to him. todoroki shoto felt a strange sense of déjà vu, head spinning at a thousand miles per second as he stared at you.

"um, okay, i guess i'll just.. go now.." you backed away from the boy, about to turn around to catch up with the rest of the class, when he called out to you, hand catching onto your wrist and forcing you to a stop.

a flower. a drop of sunlight. a smile so bright that it turned everything else dull in comparison. you. you.

"marigold?"

do not copy, translate, or repost my work.

masterlist ༊ requests

xoxo, tao

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