#feedback is always welcome

[some-thrilling-heroics]

this might be a weird take but you know how astarion spends most of the game trying to figure out who and what he can be outside of what cazador made him? i kinda feel a lot of that with shadowheart too. except with her it's much less of an active effort until we come to the end of the gauntlet and stuff is revealed.

astarion has a lot of anger and bitterness, and for shart that's where i see her need to conform to what shar wants of her? astarion has this front of 'im so seductive' and her front is 'fuck off, respect my privacy' imo, you can hide so much behind that - or in her case, hide how little there is.

im aiming to have her be very contradictory and self-cenzoring in speech and thought patterns to show the cult influence on her. how she hopes the hand pain has meaning (not what sharran doctrine says) but then other times she just recites sharran doctrine as if to show see? i know my stuff, i'm a good sharran (she's so not). i want her to be overcompensating for her slip ups and while she's having doubts to double down on the shitty things.

but also i worry that my way of showing her trying to get / keep shar's favor and be a good sharran come off as just her being an ass when she's giving sharran style advice😩

i get shart is pragmatic and likes animals and has a favorite flower but i'm now trying to think abt the intersection of personality and memory bc she is pretty much a blank with very few memories and idk, that feels like it should be relevant when the sense of self is concerned.

like, bad or good or neutral memories, they all reflect something abt a person and if you don't have much of that how do you think of yourself as a person? it would be cool i guess to not feel the random burst of guilt at that silly comment you made 20 years ago, but also knowing what you did in the past (and what has been done to you) is how you know what you want from the future. at least a little?

astarion has his 200 years of pure shit and i bet he would love to forget some of it if not all, but i feel like it fuels him a lot too. or maybe it's just me. so many things i wish that have not happened in my life but every single one informs how i act now and what i strive for. and shadowheart doesn't have that. all she has is 'shar wants this from you' and that's it. when offered a shroom to see some of her past she doesn't feel she's allowed to know it. she doesn't feel she has a right to her own past. she's only just learning how to be herself outside of 'lady shar this and lady shar that' and im getting a lot more wary anxiety abt it from her as opposed to astarion's fury. idk i feel like they mirror each other so well.

[ts3creatorscave]

Creator Community Good Faith Practices

Here at the Creator’s Cave, our mission is to create a ‘safe space’ for people to learn how to create new content and mods for The Sims 3, and share their knowledge of how to create new content and mods for the Sims 3.

Frequently, new custom content (CC) is generated by making edits to existing CC. As part of the above mission, we feel it is required of us to encourage ‘Good Faith’ practices, and to discourage ‘Bad Faith’ practices when utilizing content from other creators in your CC or mods.

We've made a  list of ‘Good Faith’ and ‘Bad Faith’, and ‘Grey Area’ practices to serve as guidelines for both existing and aspiring creators.

We asked those in the discord to help distill and tweak it, and will continue to make alterations based on feedback from the creator community. These guidelines are primarily enforced by the community itself, and other creators may decline to provide assistance to someone who is using ‘Bad Faith’ practices.

Here’s a link to the doc for any interested: TS3 Creator Good Faith Practices

[elvendara]

Reposting Elmwood on AO3 with some edits. Hopefully it's better =D.

I will try to post once a week, but I am a HUGE procrastinator!

This is, of course, YOORAN! Fantasy with elves, a lich, magic, and D&D flavor!

Oof, I need to redraw these, LOL!

[tennfan2]

Oh hey! It's another video! This one is my file called The Space Between - it's mostly just an induction that focuses on blankness and emptiness. No suggestions other than feeling good when it's done.

You can find the original post when I released it here! (A *lot* of y'all weren't on here when I put this one out!)

[siggiedraws]

Opened a Ko-fi and I’m now taking commissions! Check it outttt

[for-better-or-verse]

Temporary

My body is temporary. Like most things, I think. Peel back the layers of skin and you’ll find deteriorating muscle, From days spent doing nothing, Wasting time. I hold my skin to the light that creeps in. Scars and lumps I can’t explain, Life itself embedded in each bruise, each imperfection. I return my attention to my muscle. My body is molding from the inside out. Words fail me so I choose to state the facts. I do not believe that under rivers of flesh, There is something more than carefully arranged organs. I am a human Without a soul. Does that make me a monster?

[fizzyxcustard]

I've started a couple of polls regarding future fics. I have specified in each post that if you would like to give me in depth opinions and comments, my ask box is open (and anons are on) and so are my private messages. I am always willing to listen to your ideas, comments, feedback and opinions. :)

[hypnomurps]

Right, sorry for the absence, life hit like a train and fatigue is a bitch but I’m back :]

So what to talk about…. Maybe… we’ll maybe I should start with something easy. See most hypnotists do like using tools. We don’t need them, voices and eyes and whatever are more than enough, the words working themselves into and through your brain, I’m sure you know the feeling, but no, tools are nice.

They make my job guiding you down and your job of drifting ands sinking easier. And pretty much everything can be a tool. A spiral maybe, or the sounds of the world around us, a hand in your hair, massaging your scalp or maybe a metronome. I do like metronomes. But they’re not my favourite. No my personal favourite is the cliche of cliches, the good old pocket watch. Because most wrist watches give me sensory issues I started using one even before I really started doing hypnosis, believe it or not.

Now it might seem overdone and old fashioned, I mean, what’s next? Am I going to tell you how sleepy you’re getting or that your eyelids are starting to droop? No, see there’s more uses for a pocket watch than a glorified pendulum. So let’s open one. See the time, hours, minutes, seconds. And the second hand is ticking on and in and on, there’s no real back and fourth like with a metronome, just onward, round and round, deeper and deeper, maybe it’s starting to pull you down more and more each tick seemingly stronger than the next…

And then there’s the sound. It’s quiet and discreet but it’s there. With every tick there’s an audio component. Tick tick tick…. There you go, now you hear it, don’t you? And of course there’s still the use as a pendulum, the true cliche. Do you think you can keep up with all three at once?

Want to try?

Good.

So three, the motion of the second hand, round and round deeper and deeper

Two, the ticking and noise, disrupting your mind and focus so it can be drawn back, is it fractionation or is it too minor for that? Who knows, really?

And one, the gentle sway back and fourth, back and fourth, pulling your mind deeper making you want to

Drop

Good job. You’re doing well. Just sinking. Down down down.

And you can enjoy this trance, sinking for as long as you’d like, as long as it’s reasonable to drift and then coming back up and feeling oh so lovely.

Have a nice day, I hope you enjoyed

[ournachojesus]

Long break, back. This will happen often. Also the part about the art being consistent? I lied. Oops

New Tune Complex ( 3 ) : Well…. This is awkward.

These will always be short. Next one will prob be ready next week.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /

[tsukiboo]

my works have been slacking recently good lord

[independent-fics]

The Leverage OT3 in Every Episode

Leverage: 01x01 The Nigerian Job

[bugoutreviewgirlie]

hey all! this is an ongoing passion project of mine and it'd mean an incredible amount to me if you guys checked it out and shared it!

[bilaudad]

experimenting with more simplified or cartoon styles, and practicing not being afraid of color and not being so self-conscious showing the process

[1wh4re1]

Okay so more Ghoap x F!Reader. Just a blurb. Also, these will definitely be in whatever order inspiration strikes me first.

You're covered in sweat, tendrils of hair sticking to your face and you swear you swear you can still feel your left side despite the epidural. You've been at this for what feels like days despite it being less than 10 hours.

This wasn't how you imagined the birth of your baby. One partner whose remains had drifted over that beautiful cliffside and the other god knows where who chose to walk away from you. Still, you are grateful for the man holding your hand beside you now.

John Price never imagined he'd be in this situation. Your hand gripping his (quite painfully god your grip is strong), and him wiping away your sweat and tears. He knows he isn't the man who should be here and he knows that he shouldn't have sent Simon to chase a lead so close to your due date even though the man doesn't even know you're pregnant at all.

He watches you flush, tears leaking from your eyes through another round of pushing, and thinks he is quite possibly the biggest bastard on earth for keeping this secret for you.

You're exhausted. Worn out. Dead beat tired. The doctor between your legs encourages you. Only a few more pushes she says and you're almost there. You sob, heaving breaths as more tears stream down your face. Squeezing Price's hand you start to push again, praying that this is the end.

The relief of hearing your baby cry for the first time is overshadowed by the blood rushing through your ears and the wooziness you feel. You can't make out what the doctors are saying.

"What...what are they saying," you slur, tongue feeling heavier than lead in your mouth as you roll your head over to look at Price. "Where's my baby, why can't I see my baby?"

Price tries to reassure you but the room is erupting into chaos around him. The monitors attached to you start to wail.

"BP is dropping."

"She's hemorrhaging."

"We need an OR stat. Page them and tell them we are on the way."

"Sir, we need to move her please go to the waiting room."

The last thing you feel is Price's hand leaving yours before you slip under into a cool abyss.

@thefictionalgemini @ghostslittlegf @oniiloma @astro-ghoul99

[elizaditton]

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 14)

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

- - - - - - - - - -

I stare at my deskmate's hand, dumbfounded. What is he expecting me to do, exactly?

"Well, come on!" Derrick says with a smile. "What are you waiting for?"

"Well, I, um..." I cock my head to the side, as if that would help me have a better understanding of the sight in front of me. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do."

"What do you mean?" My deskmate chuckles. "Haven't you ever walked onto someone's hand before?"

I slowly lift my head to peek up at my deskmate, and rub my arm as I shift my gaze back to the balcony floor. He really expects me to have done this?

Derrick frowns. "You haven't, have you?"

I shake my head. "No, I haven't. In fact... you're the only perthean who's ever held me before."

Derrick slowly retracts his hand from the balcony, his brows shifting upward. He blinks.

"What?" I ask.

"I... I don't know, it's just..." my deskmate says, looking down as he twiddles his thumbs. "I'm honored that you'd let me be the first perthean to hold you."

"It's not like I really had a choice, being forced to come to this school and all," I sigh. "You just happened to be the first that I couldn't avoid."

"You were forced to come to this school?" Derrick asks, his eyes widening.

"Yeah," I say with a shrug as Dad's lies about the move come to mind. "It's a long story."

"Well, whether you were forced to interact with me or not," Derrick says, tucking his arms by his sides and clenching his fists excitedly, "I'll do my best to live up to the honor of being the first perthean to hold you!"

I let out a nervous laugh. I didn't realize he'd be so excited to find this out.

"But anyway, once again returning to the matter at hand—my hand, that is," Derrick says.

My heart rate picks up again as Derrick moves his hand back towards the balcony. I don't stumble backwards this time, but I'm surprised that my insides are still churning at the sight of his nearing hand—especially since I was expecting it to approach.

The enormous leathery surface settles down before me, with each of its attached digits curling inward ever so slightly. I approach my deskmate's hand cautiously, as if it were a venus flytrap ready to snatch me up at a moment's notice.

"Now, you said you weren't sure what you were supposed to do?" Derrick asks.

I raise my foot and dangle it over my deskmate's hand, only to nearly lose my balance and stumble back onto the balcony. Do I really not know how to do this?

"I haven't the slightest clue. And besides, isn't this..." I sigh, biting down on my lip and rubbing the back of my neck. "You know, a little too casual?"

"Too casual?" Derrick blinks a few times and raises an eyebrow. "Kaylin, we are friends, right?"

"Of course!" I blurt out, quickly waving my hands. "I didn't mean to say we weren't! It's just that we've only used a formal form of handling etiquette up until this point, and... well..."

"Yes? What is it?"

"I... well... I don't really know how you expect me to get onto your hand. I guess that makes me pretty stupid, huh?" I say, hanging my head.

"You're not stupid. You just need a little guidance, that's all," Derrick says with a smile. "Now, there's something I want you to know. Because we're friends, I don't care how it is you manage to get onto my hand. You can run, crawl, jump, or fall into my hand and I wouldn't mind it in the slightest."

I look up at my deskmate, astounded. I thought any perthean would be particular about how a human gets onto their hand. He really doesn't care how I approach this?

"Generally speaking, though," Derrick says, "when a perthean offers you their hand this way, you're expected to respond like this."

Derrick lifts his other hand and moves it towards me, causing my muscles to immediately tense up. What's he doing now?! Is he going to grab me?!

I quickly back away from his hands until I'm flat against the wall. My heart, beating faster and faster, sinks deep in my chest. As my knees buckle beneath me, I find myself slumping against the wall, it being the only thing left holding me up. Derrick's eyes widen, and he immediately retracts both of his hands.

"Hey," he whispers. "Kaylin, are you—"

I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the balcony floor. I hide my head behind my knees and wrap my arms around my legs. I shut my eyes tightly as they begin to tingle and glaze over, but hot tears manage to leak from them anyway.

"I can't do this, Derrick!" I sniffle. "I can't keep myself from fearing for my life whenever you reach for me! All I think about is...! Is...!"

With my head buried into my knees, my vision is completely black. My mind's eye, however, is painting pictures of the man from my nightmares. A tall, slim figure with a bit of a tan. Slightly muscular. Clean shaven with a small scar on his left cheek. He has dark brown hair and narrowed brown eyes. He wears a white t-shirt with a few dirt stains, and wrapping around his dark blue jeans at the hips is a black belt with a silver chain. Beneath him is a pair of dirty, beaten up white sneakers.

He seemed so unassuming when I first peered at him from the corner of that alleyway. I was so naive! I had no idea what he—no, what pertheans were capable of until—

"Kaylin," Derrick whispers. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I know you're not ready to tell me what started your fear, and I want you to know that's okay with me."

I sniffle again, and with shaking hands, I wipe the tears from my eyes before reluctantly looking up at my deskmate. His blue eyes are soft with compassion, and his brows are upturned in sympathy.

"Since you were forced to come to this school, you didn't get to choose whether or not you wanted to trust me. So now, I want to ask you..." his voice trails off, and he shifts his gaze to the ground. He takes a deep breath in and out before looking back at me. "Will you make the choice now?"

My lip trembles as I sit up in my spot against the wall. "Make... the choice?" I manage, my voice cracking.

Derrick keeps his eyes fixated on me and slowly lifts his left hand towards me. His index finger is bent to the side, as if to initiate balcony etiquette. His hand passes the balcony railing, but doesn't come any closer to me. I stare at it, confused. What's he getting at?

"Kaylin, will you make the choice to trust me?"

My heart rocks against my chest and my legs begin to go numb. "How can I do that when I'm filled with so much fear?" I ask.

"Trust is an action. It's not something you feel, but rather something you choose to do in spite of your feelings." Derrick smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. "Will you trust me?"

I blink, slowly rising to my feet with trembling legs. The breeze picks up, blowing through my hair and giving me goose bumps from the chill. I hug myself tightly, partly because of the cold and partly because of the burning anxiety deep in my core. My pulse quickens, warning me to stay away from this perthean lest I get hurt—yet I find myself, for whatever reason, approaching the hand in front of me.

Derrick remains silent. I look back up at him, his smile still stretched from ear to ear. All at once, his eyes narrow, turning brown, and a scar appears over his left cheek. I slam my eyes shut, quickly sucking in a breath and blowing it out, before opening one eye to peek up at my deskmate. His blue eyes have returned to normal, and there's no scar on his cheek. I look back at his hand, cautiously tiptoeing towards it as my insides convulse and the world around me begins to spin.

Once I'm close enough, I reach a hand out towards my deskmate's index finger, only to pull it back towards myself out of uncertainty. Can I really do this? Can I really trust a perthean?

I place one hand on my deskmate's finger, and then another. I stand in place, breathless and at a loss for words. It takes all the strength I have left to look Derrick in the eyes.

"I will," I manage to say at last.

My deskmate sighs joyfully, and his eyes soften as if smiling themselves.

"Okay," he whispers.

Seeing the glee on Derrick's face gives me the courage to smile back at him. Now that I've made the choice to trust him, I can't help but wonder what comes next.

"Do you want to try walking onto my hand again?" he asks.

I recall the moment Derrick's hand approached me without warning, shivers running down my spine.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'll alert you before I reach for you from now on."

I nod, and Derrick lays his hand down palm side up on the balcony. I bite the inside of my cheek as my legs squirm beneath me, begging me to run away. I made the choice to trust Derrick, I'm not running away!

"Now, I was going to show you how humans are generally expected to react in response to an open palm. May I see your hand?" Derrick asks.

My heart skips a beat. What does he want my hand for? Still shaking where I stand, I gulp, and reluctantly offer up my right hand. I become lightheaded when Derrick takes my hand in between his fingertips. Closing my eyes, I attempt to steady my breathing. I've made my decision. I'm going to trust my deskmate.

Derrick leads me toward his open palm with a gentle tug, and places my hand on his thumb.

"There," he says, letting go of me. "Use my thumb as a support to get onto my hand."

My eyes widen as I gaze at the intricacies of his thumbprint—each curve and crevice forming a uniquely detailed pattern. I spread out my fingers. My hand doesn't even cover a fraction of the print, it's so... little. I stand there in awe, completely mesmerized by the sight in front of me as my cheeks become warmer and warmer.

"Is something wrong?" Derrick asks.

"N-no! Nothing's wrong!" I sputter, embarrassed that I'd been staring at my deskmate's thumbprint for so long.

I press down on Derrick's thumb with nearly all of my strength. It doesn't move an inch. I look toward the palm of his hand, and, using his thumb for support, I manage to lift one leg and plant it on the fleshy surface in front of me. I push off from Derrick's thumb and leap forward into his hand, only to trip on the squishy surface beneath my feet and fall flat on my face!

Derrick gasps. "Are you okay?"

I push against the skin beneath me and manage to get up onto my knees. I nod, my face completely red.

"We'll work on this," my deskmate says, lifting his hand from the balcony and closer to his chest.

"So, um..." I start, my gaze fixed on the palm I'm in. I'm interrupted, however, by a large finger lifting my head until my eyes meet Derrick's.

"Lesson two," Derrick says, "you should always try to look a perthean in the eyes when you speak to them. This makes it easier for us to hear you and perceive your emotions."

"O-oh, okay," I murmur, shivering.

Derrick smiles. "Now, what were you going to say?"

"Oh, I was just about to ask what happens now."

Derrick gazes off into the distance, his brows furrowed in thought. Did he not think he'd get this far?

"I was thinking we could just sit and talk for a while," he says, looking back at me.

"Talk?" I ask. "About what?"

"Anything," Derrick says, moving beside the balcony.

I sway from side to side in my deskmate's hand as he walks. I've gotten more accustomed to this with each passing school day, so I don't have to steady myself as much anymore. But when Derrick lowers himself to sit on the ground, I let out a yelp as the quick motion catches me completely off guard! My insides flip upside down, and I try my hardest to keep from losing my lunch.

"Sorry! Was that too quick?" Derrick asks.

"A little," I squeak, wondering what I've really gotten myself into by agreeing to meet back here with this guy.

"Sorry. I'll try to be more gentle," he says. "So... what do you want to talk about?"

"You're the one who wanted to meet back here in the first place. Shouldn't you be coming up with the ideas?" I ask.

I pick at my nails, keeping my gaze away from Derrick's. Once again, a large finger lifts my head until my eyes are locked with my deskmate's. I can't help but shudder as we glance at each other. Will I ever get used to the weight of his stare?

Derrick smiles reassuringly. "Alright," he says. "Let's talk about you."

My heart skips a beat as blood rushes to my cheeks. "What?! Why me?!" I ask.

"Hey, you said I should be the one coming up with the ideas!" Derrick laughs. "And besides... ever since we became deskmates, I've been curious to learn more about you."

I cross my arms and hang my head low to hide that I'm now blushing even harder. I've always hated talking about myself, it's so embarrassing! I'm not even that interesting!

"Come on," Derrick says, lifting me up to be eye level with him. "Can't you at least tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"I-I—" I stutter, trying to come up with any way to get myself out of this, only to sigh in defeat. "Okay."

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

Once Derrick and I got to talking, the time flew by. I told him a bit about the move, and he was surprised to hear that Dad and I traveled nearly 900 roams from Maedri to Chancelor. That's about 15,000 miles, which would feel like around 18,000 roams for a perthean. He asked why we would move that far, and I filled him in on how Dad really wanted me to go to his old high school. Thinking through it all again, it really doesn't make much sense. But, then again, neither does my dad.

Derrick told me a little bit about himself, too. He told me he lives with both of his parents, and that he has an identical twin brother who is away for university on Erimathea. I asked why they weren't in the same stage for school if they were the same age, and he mentioned something about his brother being able to graduate early. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the topic, though, so I didn't push it much.

Before we knew it, we'd been talking behind the school for well over an hour. The funny thing is, the longer I spent in Derrick's hands, the easier it became to talk to him. I found myself trembling less and less over time, and I was able to maintain eye contact for most of our conversation.

"With exposure and with time," I recall Dad saying, "things can get better."

I shake the memory away. Sure, this meet up with Derrick is helping, but it wasn't Dad's idea!

"Uh-oh," Derrick says, glancing at his phone. "It's nearly 5 o'clock."

I let out a gasp as my eyes widen with realization. Dad's going to be expecting me home any minute now! I don't want him wondering where I've been! How in the world would I explain Derrick trying to help me with my fear? I can already see the smile on Dad's face. I can already hear him telling me how he knew sending me to this school would be a good decision. I can't just let him win, can I?

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Derrick asks.

"I... well," I stammer, not sure how to explain my situation. "My dad's going to be expecting me any minute now, and it usually takes me over an hour to walk home from here!"

"Really? Do you live far from here?"

"I think it's a bit far from here," I say, trying to mentally calculate the distance based on how long my walk home usually is. "I live at the human apartment building on Seren Avenue."

Derrick blinks. "Are you serious?"

"W-what?" I ask, a shudder running down my spine.

"That's right around the corner from here! That's not far at all," Derrick chuckles.

"Well, for you it might not be, but—!"

"I know, I know," Derrick says. "It's twenty times the distance for you."

I rub my arm. "I just don't know how I'm going to explain this to my dad," I mutter. "If he finds out we met up because of my fear, or that we hung out at all... I feel like he's going to hold that over my head."

My deskmate hums, leaning back against the wall. "I might have an idea," he says with a smile, lifting me to his eyes.

"Y-you do?" I stutter, still not used to when he holds me close to his face like this.

"Are you ready for your next assignment?" he asks.

"That depends," I say, scooting back a little in his palm. "what is it?"

"Will you let me walk you home?" He asks. "In favor of taking another step towards overcoming your fear?"

"I-I don't know..."

"Come on! What do you have to lose?"

I look into my deskmate's round blue eyes. I can't tell if he's encouraging me or pleading with me at this point, but does my answer even matter? He already knows where I live, so he can take me home whether I want him to or not. I guess it's good that he's asking, but... is this really a good idea? What will people think of a boy walking a girl home? What if the perthean lobby receptionist at the apartment sees us and tries to strike up another conversation? What if she tells Dad a perthean boy walked his daughter home? What will Dad think of Derrick walking me home? Ugh, he'd probably be ecstatic to see me getting along with my deskmate...

I take a deep breath and let it out. "Okay," I say. What could really go wrong?

"Alright!" Derrick says cheerfully, leaning forward to stand up.

"P-please be careful!" I plead in fear of being knocked about.

"I will," he says, being surprisingly gentle as he rises to his feet. "Now, Seren... Seren... that would be this way."

I sway around in my deskmate's hand with each step he takes. I keep my head down to prevent myself from getting nauseous, but I can tell when Derrick rounds a few corners and ends up on the sidewalk beyond the school grounds.

"We're almost there," he says.

"What? We just left!"

"It's that white building, right? About three blocks down?" Derrick asks, pointing to a small building far off in the distance.

I remember seeing pictures of the outside of the apartment online, and I guess it sort of looks like the building my deskmate is pointing to, but I can't really tell from this distance.

"Even if that's the right place, it's still going to take you at least a half hour to get there from here," I assert.

"Watch me," Derrick says.

"You're not going to try running it, are you?!" I exclaim, a sudden panic taking over.

"What? No, of course not! I'm going to take it nice and steady. Just don't be surprised when we get there in about..." my deskmate says, squinting at the white building in the distance. "Five minutes."

"Ha! Right!" I roll my eyes at his ridiculous estimate. There's no way what would take me an hour and a half is going to take him any less than thirty minutes.

As Derrick begins to walk again, I peek up from his hand every once in a while to see how far we are from our destination. To my surprise, we're approaching it much faster than I first anticipated.

I keep to myself for the most part, until something strange lands in Derrick's palm. I blink a few times, uncertain of what it is I'm seeing. It's long, a bit rounded, and a lovely shade of light pink. I reach out and poke it first, to make sure it's not some kind of bug. When it doesn't fly away, I lean over and take it in my hands. It's soft to the touch, though a bit wrinkly. It almost feels like some kind of plant.

"Hey," I say, my focus shifting back to my deskmate. "Do you know what this is?"

Derrick stops for a moment and looks down at the pink object in my hands. He tilts his head to the side, inquisitively.

"I think it's a petal," he says.

"A petal? From what?" I ask, excitedly scanning the ground beneath me for any flowers. To my disappointment, I don't see any.

"From that tree," my deskmate answers, pointing above and behind me to a massive heap of pink blossoms swinging in the wind, connected together by dark, twisting branches to a thick trunk.

My eyes immediately widen when it comes into view. The big blossoms float about in the sky high above us, and little petals rain down all around like snowflakes. This is a sight I've only ever dreamt about or seen in movies before. I never thought I'd get to see something like this for myself! The sky lights in Maedri's undercity always depicted cherry blossoms around spring every year, and I thought that was a sight to behold! But now I'm seeing the real thing? Am I really awake right now?

As Derrick begins to walk again, I try peeking around him to continue looking at the tree. Given his size, however, this proves fruitless. I slump in his palm, saddened that I only got a few moments with such a beautiful part of nature.

Derrick stops again, looking down at my slouching figure. He backs up a bit, and, reaching up to the tree, tears off a tiny section of a branch covered in flowers. He examines it between his fingertips for a moment, and then hands it to me.

My cheeks redden, and I can't help but let a smile creep across my face. Although I quiver at the sight of Derrick's nearing hand, I take the branch.

"For me?" I ask, my voice trembling.

"Mhm," Derrick hums. "A souvenir."

My breathing picks up speed with my heart rate. "Th-thanks," I manage.

Now I really can't let Dad find out about all this. What would he think of a boy giving me flowers?! I'd throw them right out if not for how mesmerized I still am by the sight of that tree.

After a few more moments of walking, Derrick stops again.

"The Apartments at Seren," he says.

I look up from the flowers in my lap. "No way!" I exclaim, dumbfounded.

"Well," Derrick says, pointing, "that's what it says on the sign."

Sure enough, the sign reads the name of my apartment building. Derrick reaches for the door to enter the perthean lobby.

"Wait!" I shout, only to bite my lip at the realization that I was a little too loud. "Um... is it okay if you just drop me off outside? There's an undercity entrance on the side of the building."

"Wouldn't it be faster to just drop you off inside?" Derrick asks.

"Well, it's just that... my dad likes to talk to the receptionist in there, and I don't know how he'd react if he saw a guy walking me home. And giving me flowers."

"Oh! Don't worry, I understand," he says. "I'll just set you down right here, then."

Derrick gently lowers himself to the ground, and places the hand I'm in down on the sidewalk. I rise from my place in his palm, wobbling a little at first as I struggle to stand. Bookbag and blossoms secured, I carefully inch toward the edge of my deskmate's hand, one step at a time, and then leap off onto the sidewalk.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Derrick asks.

"On Firsday," I say.

"Oh, right," he says. "I'll see you on Firsday."

"Alright. Bye!" I say, sheepishly waving as I make my way toward the undercity entrance on the side of the apartment building.

As I'm walking, I have a sudden realization— I completely forgot to thank Derrick! I turn around, only to see him walking away from the apartment building.

"Hey!" I yell, but Derrick doesn't seem to hear me.

I huff. I don't want to seem rude! I run after Derrick, as fast as I can, until I'm right beside him on the ground.

"Hey! Derrick! Wait!" I shout, hoping he'll hear me.

"Huh?" Derrick looks down.

The glass that veiled my fear for only a moment shatters as I stand face to face with a tall, tall perthean. From the ground. My eyes widen. My insides contort into a knot, and the world begins to spin around me. My heart slams against my ribcage and my legs tremble beneath me, again begging me to run away. Just what do I think I'm doing?

"Kaylin? Is everything okay?" Derrick asks.

"I-I— I w... I wanted..." I stutter and stutter, fumbling over every word as I rack my brain for whatever it was I wanted to say.

Derrick must realize I'm struggling, so he kneels down closer to the ground. "Yes?" He asks.

"I-I... I wanted t-to... I wanted to thank you!" I say, crossing my arm over my chest and leaning forward. "For helping me, and walking me home."

"Oh!" Derrick smiles. "Don't mention it."

"O-okay! S-see you on Firsday," I stammer, all at once giving in to my quaking legs' pleas and running as fast as I can away from Derrick and toward the undercity entrance without looking back.

This fear just isn't going to quit, is it?

[heretoobsessstuff]

Helllooooo so the wip I posted a snippet on a few days ago is finally hereeee!! You could read it on ao3 here:

Summary/snippet:

During the second night, when Bucky was barely lucid with fever, he had opened his eyes to see Gale with his head resting where he was holding Bucky’s hand in his own. “You got to fight this John” Gale whispered into their linked fingers. “Thought I lost you once. Can’t do it again” Bucky was about to turn and tell him he’s alright and that Gale needs to go to bed because his back was going to kill him in the morning with the way he was crouching like that. But he fell silent in shock as he felt moisture on his knuckles. Gale was crying silently against his hand. His breathes left him in quiet huffs as he held on to Bucky. Tears falling drop by drop. Bucky felt helpless as he squeezed his eyes shut. Felt his own eyes burning as the wave of emotions hit him like a freight train. It felt surreal to witness this. To witness Gale crying. Crying over him. Years of wondering what would make Gale break and in the end, it had been him. It filled him with shameful hope. Hope that maybe what Gale felt for him was more than just a friendship. I thought I lost you too. He thought but he had told Gale that already it feels like a privilege to feel your tears on my hands. He remained silent. Gale obviously thought Bucky is asleep so he refused to interrupt Gale’s private moment with useless words. He didn’t want Gale to put on that mask back on have to pretend he’s fine for Bucky’s sake so he just pretended to sleep. He kept his grip on Gale’s fingers strong, though. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on his knuckle as sleep and fever swallowed him again. If Gale noticed it, he never said anything about it and that was that.

Or through the years, Bucky has developed a complicated relationship with Gale crying.

Pls let me know ur thoughts and comments and anything you’d have to say rlly! Ill b more than happy to hear themmmm ❤️❤️