#i'm so glad i don't have to work that hard in my leisure anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuwaprince · 3 months

Note

I’m really glad you’re here still. It sucks that things haven’t gotten better for you, I’m sorry about that. Would it be okay if I sent you some money on PayPal? I still have yours I think. I wish I could help more, I’d be happy to help you. I missed you too.

It's always good to hear from you friend 🫂💓 I missed you too but figured it would be best to disappear for a bit. Update: My housemates have been mean. People at school have also been so mean to the point that I've had to let my new dept know that the bullies from my old classes are following me to my new ones and sitting in pretending to attend just to torment me more (insane how these people do all this for free but I know phobias of all kinds run deep). I don't really know what i'm doing besides slowly chugging along. Nothing I do is enough- literally. And when it is- people move the carpet so that I can't catch success. I talk to people who are in better positions (who have a job, parents who loan them $, a car, etc) who still can't see it working out for them either. An apartment for me just feels like an unattainable dream!!! I seriously do think it's about time I get my own place away from people who hate/mistreat me. My health is declining a lot because of the self imprisoning. I refuse to be tormented by people here so I just starve and dehydrate myself every day until people go to sleep. It isn't healthy. None of this is. If I told you there was a little lump on my chest that hurts and hasn't gone away I would just be complaining about something I wouldn't even bother getting checked out. I have given up in so many ways. Just dangling onto life by threads because I don't want to give any hateful asshole the satisfaction of literally tormenting me to death. I'm saving every single penny I possibly can for the next chance I have to leave this place. Who knows when that would ever be. Maybe years. It shouldn't be this hard but it is for me and it's such a nasty cycle to be in. I need to move to be safe but I need a job to move but I need to be safe to keep a job. I'll do anything to get a place of my own at this point. I want safety. I want the freedom to enjoy leisure time. I want the freedom to not be harassed and tormented for choosing to go downstairs to eat. I want to be able to eat without being judged. Get me away from constant shaming. I'm sad. Extremely sad and I've learned how hateful people can be. I can't wrap my head around why anybody would be like this but oh well. It's not my job to understand. Just my job to survive by any means. If you'd like to help by donating still, please do. I haven't gotten myself to where I can keep begging for help. I need to recover. I need a break from day in and day out misery. I feel extremely stuck here. If I had a break, I would cry and fight myself on coming back. I don't want to be here anymore. I know you're glad that I am but I am not glad about it at all... It's still good to hear from you. I hope you've been taking good care of yourself and staying healthy 🫂

3 notes · View notes

boozuru · 11 months

Text

Ghostic - Epilogue 2

⇠ chapter select ⇢

(NOT JP PROOFED)

Season: Autumn

Aira: Woooah, wooow! It's huuuuge!

This is just what you would expect from the venue for big three's fine! They're on a totally different level from us!

I'm so glad I became an idol now that it got me invited to a place like this~♪

Hiiro: Hm. So this is a haunted house. Very interesting!

On a first glance I can't see a single ghost though… Aira, can you see any?

Aira: Hey! Don't say stuff like that and go touching the props without permission!

If we break something, there's no guarantee we can afford to pay for it. Behave yourself, okay Hiro-kun?

Yuzuru: …Oh my. Right when I thought that Anzu-san had left us, I find new visitors.

I see that everyone from ALKALOID has also come here.

Aira: S-sorry for bothering you! I never imagined that fine would invite us to their project. It's like I'm dreaming!

Tatsumi: Thank you for your hard work, Yuzuru-san.

I invited ALKALOID like we discussed last time.

You wanted to speak with Mayoi-san in particular, yes?

Yuzuru: Indeed. Or I meant to, but could it be that he did not come with you? He's the only one I can not see…

Tatsumi: Mayoi-san is by the entrance, seemingly a little flustered.

We have known each other for a long time now, but maybe he has an unexpected fear of scary things. That would be quite something.

Yuzuru: Hmm. To me it seems like he's more afraid of humans than ghosts, though.

Ayase-sama. There is no need to watch from afar anymore, please join us.

It’s not like I intend to gobble you up the moment you get near me. I just wish to have a nice, friendly chat.

Mayoi: YESh…! W-w-w-w-what is it…!?

U-uhm, erm… Did I maybe do something untactful towards you, Fushimi-san?

I-if so, please allow me to apologizeee…! I beg you, just don't do anything to ALKALOID!

Yuzuru: Fufu. If I did that, Sengoku-sama would be furious with me.

On another note, I assume that Eichi-sama must be quite strict with you four for your fear to be so severe.

As we work at the same company and are on decent terms, there is no need for any skittishness.

I wished to express my gratitude to you, Ayase-sama.

Mayoi: Gratitude…?

Yuzuru: Indeed. Our new song, "Ghostic Treat House", is breaking fine's usual mould by having horror aspects in its production and performance.

That night when Ayase-sama was standing in front of the haunted house, I became able to believe in the existence of ghosts, something I previously thought non-existant.

And because of that, I was able to make use of my experiences during practice and make better suggestions. I thought it only fitting to express my thanks.

Mayoi: I, see…?

I was just standing there by chance, but I'm glad that I could help you somehow.

Yuzuru: Fufu. Actually, I have a proposal for you. Would you like to join the temporary staff of the ES Haunted House?

There are actually several idols working here as ghost actors.

I believe your mysterious aura would be the perfect fit for this kind of job. Anzu-san is also participating right now, so how about trying it just for a little while?

Mayoi: Oh, please allow me to decline!

Thank you for the offer, but the guests being forced to be near me is out of the question…! No thank youuu…!

Aira: Whattt, that's such a missed opportunity!

I wanna see Mayo-san's fancy costume too, and this is a rare chance so you should take it! ♪

Tatsumi: Preparations for the event are done so we have plenty of leisure time till noon. If you wish to do it, then I definitely support you.

Hiiro: Umu. This is my first time exploring a haunted house, so I would like to do it with Mayoi-senpai, but I want to see you in a ghostly role just as much.

Tatsumi: I'm also curious about it. There will be other idols doing the same thing, so it's not like you'll get in the way of the professionals if that's what you're worried about.

It would be good for you to expand your social circles too ♪

Mayoi: U-umm… Everyone's eyes are too brighttt! I feel like I can't decline anymore…!

Yuzuru: Fufu. Young Master actually invited other student council members to come over, so I believe Sengoku-sama is here as well.

He thought that everyone would be happy to see him as a ghost ♪

Mayoi: C-chief too…!? Goodness, I never particularly wanted to act as a ghost or to expand my social circles…

But now that we have discussed this so extensively, it would just be rude to refuse. Alright. If I can do it for just a little bit, I'll act as a ghost…

Yuzuru: Fufufu. I am sure that you are all busy, so I made the invitation thinking "nothing ventured, nothing gained". Thank you for your optimistic response.

As idols, we are in the kind of role where we entertain people with everything we have.

Halloween turns our everyday normal onto its head, so I want to bring everyone thrills through fear-

Just as Ayase-sama's offhanded comments made me able to believe in spirits.

Once again: welcome to the ES Haunted House. We wholeheartedly invite you to join us… ♪

4 notes · View notes

boxofbonesfic · 3 years

Note

Excellent work, my dude. My pussy sends her compliments. Also, THOUGHT: CHUBBY!BUCKY X INSATIABLE!READER. Like you woke up with the spirit of Zeus' horny levels in you. You wanna see how much you can make Bucky cum in a day. You're pulling all the tricks like Hey baby. You see this mouth? I'm thinking you blow two loads down my throat, then I wanna see if you can go for another one while your cock's bottomed out in my pussy. Then, if you're still alive, why don't you paint my face with your cum too? How'd that sound, Buck?

Bucky, who was just having a wholesome morning relaxing on the couch, now had his cock standing at attention because that was by far the nastiest shit you've ever said to him. Feeling his dick twitch, he groans, "You're gonna be the fucking death of me."

Rating: EXPLICIT

Warnings: smut, mention of anal, overstimulation, MINORS, DNI!

well… he is a super soldier so… you tap out first.

“B-Buck, I-I can’t again,” you’re whining, hands fisted in the sheets in his hair, in your own, anything you can reach. “F-fuck, ah—!”

He’s been switching leisurely between his mouth, fingers and cock, and you’re not really sure how many times he’s taken you to panting, shuddering pieces, but you know it’s a lot. You’d had a handle on it through the fifth and sixth times you’d made him fill you up—but by eight, his fingers are curiously prodding the wet, tight ring of your ass, and by twelve, he’d managed to spill there twice too.

It’s got to be the super-soldier thing, because he never seems to run out of cum, hot jets soothing your aching, still twitching walls again and again. Glad I’m on the pill, you think to yourself briefly as he groans, his forehead falling against yours as he reaches between you you swirl his fingers around your clit. And then you can’t think anymore, launched into another orgasm that has you sobbing as he fucks you through it anyway.

“Good girl, sweetheart,” he pants. “Fuck, squeezin’ me so tight, ugh—” You’re so full of him it’s leaking out around his cock, soaking the bed beneath you again as he cums hard, his eyes rolling shut as he shudders above you. Bucky massages your hip with one gentle hand, kissing the tip of your nose. “That’s sixteen, doll. Wanna call it?” he asks, cocking his head at you.

Maybe I’ll take another pill tonight, you think nodding dizzily up at him. Just in case.

#chubby!bucky #chubby!bucky barnes #bones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #ask the bones #smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #chubby!bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut

1K notes · View notes

heartsyhawk · 2 years

Text

EDIT: Apparently I can no longer do cuts in mobile so sorry for the long-winded unhideable post... Mostly just typed it because I was having feelings and needed a place to put them. Sidenote...is it possible to do a read more on mobile app anymore and I just don't know the new way??

Sometimes I think wistfully about middle/highschool aged me who could knock off a whole first draft of like a novel length fic in a few days after school and feel wistful longing and jealousy and confusion and no small amount of grief for the loss of that. That version of me thought she'd never stop writing. But then she never knew that she'd get sick and then ... just never be alright again. She had no idea that could happen in your twenties and I'm glad she did not.

But I found one of my old journals and was completely undone by her optimism and plans. It's hard to remember when I could just ... do things. Today I picked up the trash from my sister being home for a few days (cereal bowls, empty drink cups, snack wrappers just twenty minutes of work, nothing major by all accounts) and I might as well have been run over by a train after climbing a mountain. I couldn't do a six hour marathon writing session right now for anything in this world. I have been trying for six weeks to read this library book. I'm on page 23. I have 10748 unread emails piled up. According to Facebook ten years ago today I *accidentally* walked 8.5 miles looking for a candy shop that had gone out of business without my knowledge and then went and spent two hours at the mall. Today I counted the steps between my bathroom and bedroom (it's 27) and genuinely considered having door dash bring me food and hand it through my bedroom window because my joints are on fire from that 54 step journey a few times. If I had enough money to comfortably spare I would have absolutely done it without hesitation or considering it to be honest.

Today's a bad day, worse than my current "normal" for sure. Not helped by 2 days ago it was 70 degrees F and yesterday was a 9 inches of snow and ice winter storm, or world events being what they are, I'm sure. But man finding highschool freshman Heartsyhawk's thoughts and plans, finding the bones of a few dozen stories she wanted to write, some she did and some she was waiting to hone her craft enough to do well, hit like a kidney punch. In my writing folder for 2022 I've written a grand total of 838 words. That's half what I wrote all last year which is Good but also sad and frustrating. If I can't physically go places or do the things I'd like I feel like I should at least be able to read or write for my own escape and leisure without it being exhausting.

IDK. this has been a wistful yearning ramble rant post. Have a word of caution: take care not to get weird dangerous viruses that alter you permanently. For me it was a particularly bad flu (H3N2 strain apparently)...for a lot of other people whose lives look like mine now it's Covid 19. I didn't have insurance that year until the exchange opened with new accessibility, and didn't get a flu shot until it was too late. It is stupid and scary and frustrating and I would do anything to prevent any other person having to feel like I do.

#christi babbles #sorry for whining #heartsyhawk health stuff #chronic illness sucks #get all the vaccines you can and also masks please you do not want to disappoint young you and hurt and be so sick like I am now

3 notes · View notes

butmakeitgayblog · 2 years

Note

hiiiii! hope you're doing okay. i really love your fics and yours are one of the few that i look forward to reading whenever you have one out. as a baby clexa fic writer, i personally try not to read other fics because i'm afraid that i might unconsciously copy an idea of theirs that i already have in mind, or might just be fitting in the story i try to write. have you had any troubles like this or is it just me being more of an academic writer than one who writes for leisure? which im also having trouble with, btw. i find it hard to write conversational dialogues that are authentic because english isn't my first language and the only time i ever write in it is when i do schoolwork. i might be thinking too much of it, idk. 🤷🏻‍♀️

all in all, really this is just an appreciation ask for you and your works from an anon who devours clexa fanfics, most of which are your works. you write with a flow (idk if that makes sense). so thank you so much for your works, and just want to say (again), you're works are some of the best I've read and keep on rereading again and again. hope you have a great day!!!

Thank you so much, this was such a lovely message and I'm so glad you like them 💕 and if you stories are on ao3 send the link!

Tbh I do think you're being too hard on yourself. Dialogue is seriously so hard to write, and the fact that you're multi/bilingual and doing it is impressive all on its own. My dumbass can't speak two languages and am even shit at just English as it is. So yeah that's something to be proud of.

As for the question, honestly not much. At least not consciously. I haven't really struggled with it myself but also I was a silent reader for years in the fandom before I ever tried my hand at writing. I had no idea what I was doing when I first started (still don't 🥴) and I actually think the fact that I had read so many fics helped me immensely. It helped me see different styles and approaches and techniques that were successful. Listened to criticisms people had and things they liked in others writing. Helped me see how stories were best structured. And then applied all that to my writing when I finally got the guts to try and put my thoughts into words, and slowly over time I've developed my own style just through trial and error. But I absolutely give it up to the other clexa authors for being a bit of a collection of crash course teachers that helped me even if they didn't know it lol

And beyond that, I honestly think reading other's stories can help give you inspiration, rather than looking at it like you're copying. I think reading others work is invaluable actually. Who cares if an idea seems close to another, that's nothing. Heck, my niche in the fandom is literally taking movies and rewriting them as clexa🤷‍♀️. Can't copy more than that. But there's really no such thing as a unique idea anymore, and even still if you had 3 writers all sit down with the exact same prompt, you get 3 completely different stories. Even if the general idea or plot points are similar, your voice and your story will always be it's own thing (obviously barring intentional plagiarism but I know that's not what you mean)

It actually reminds me of a post I saw years back about another writer saying they were afraid that they had no unique ideas for a fic and the person answering them said something like, think of your story as a cake. You see your cake sitting there on the table next to someone else's and all you can think is, "mine isn't as pretty as theirs. Mine's vanilla and their's is chocolate and look at how much taller there's is than mine." You're looking at your cake and seeing all it's flaws, all the ways you think yours is subpar to the other, but the birthday person is just having the time of their life because "HELL YEAH, TWO CAKES!" That's how readers feel. They wanna read your coffee shop au and the 1300 other coffee shop aus because hell yeah, 1301 coffee shop aus 🥳

#anon #writing #nice things

5 notes · View notes

wrathfulspark · 4 years

Text

@dabrowskievolution

Perhaps the term Elidi had been looking for was ‘humanity’, seeing as Stanislav didn’t view himself as human--at least not anymore. It’d been far too long since he’d last felt the natural flush of life within his veins; but seeing as this was only pleasantry and easily brushed over in favor of moving on to the next topic of conversation, Stanislav refrained from commenting any further on the matter.

While this was by no means a bragging contest, Stanislav merely gave a subtle shrug of his shoulders. “It was hard not to know her. You and I both know Miss Reznikov has a certain air about herself, one that can be hard to ignore.” This was by no means an insult, merely fact straight from the elder vampire’s mouth.

His hues narrowed as he observed the way Elidi seemed to look at him, although he was able to distinguish no hint of malice...though perhaps thought? Stanislav could very much relate to the sentiment, but he tried not to get that ahead of himself--at least for tonight. It was a Masquerade after all. Even if he felt much too embarrassed to express his fondness for Kiki, perhaps Stanislav was willing to place much more trust into the witch seeing as she was an important figure within his lover’s life.

An amused, though silent huff escaped the taller male’s frame as Elidi both complimented and noted his mannerisms. If it had been anyone else he likely would have felt defensive. “Yes, maybe so.” The vampire agreed. Giving a dismissive shake of his head, Stanislav raised his glass to his lips once more and partook in a small drink. “Your line of work makes sense--such is to be expected of a detective. You needn’t worry, Miss Elidi. Though I harbor a feeling you already know that.” As much as Elidi came forward as a woman who rarely let go of composure, it seemed everyone didn’t quite know how to interact with the vampire king. One one hand such intimidation helped him keep his subjects under law, but it didn’t seem to dissuade any nosey publicists keen on prying into the LSA’s affairs.

“You understand what your duties entail, but I suppose when it comes to your obligations there is an almost scripted routine. Less room for error--than say, leisurely conversation. I understand such a sentiment.” Despite not divulging any further detail, the vampire knew his way around the politics of Tabula Rasa and had even found himself to be quite formidable at negotiation. This was something Kiki and Tamryn had mentioned, however--outside of work, Stanislav was virtually a blank canvas. Even if Elidi’s predicaments weren’t as drastic, there was an element of familiarity within her words that had seemed to resonate within the LSA official.

Elidi let out an amused laugh, nodding along in agreement with his statement about Tamryn. There had been a time when Elidi would go out of her way to avoid the Alpha, the entire pack even. Not because she feared her or her clan but because of the energy Tamryn carried herself with, a dangerous enticement, something Elidi deemed herself too busy to be distracted with. So much so she'd go as far as changing her number to detere any interaction with the redhead.

A dark blush settled across her cheeks, though she refused to avert her gaze this time around, a smile still present on her reddened lips, "I know exactly what you mean..." How amazing how particular their relationship was now. The witch could feel her heart, warm in her chest, stomach fluttering with butterflies at the thought of Tamryn alone. She felt grateful, treasured to be able to experience a side of the Alpha that no one else knew, this journey new to both of the women. Elidi's head tilted forward bashfully, her gaze earthward as she observed the intricate design along the floor boards. "Forgive my sentiments but I'm... glad I finally got to know her."

Somewhat grateful for a change in topic, she thoughtfully weighed his observation, finding herself both agreeing and disagreeing. "I worked outside of Tabula as an officer, albeit briefly, that felt more routine. That is, if you're following the book like you should. Tabula tends to vary in all things, I can't say I've had a case that is entirely the same as one before. With so many species brings an assortment of ways to commit a crime, distinctly varying." Of course, unless they happened to be a serial killer. Her brows raised thoughtfully. It would be best not to mention that.

A smile tugged the corners of her lips, a pleasing sense of familiarity overcoming her. They both seemed to be lacking a bit in the social department, though Stan seemed to carry himself better than she did in some aspects. How silly that she felt quite proud to carry on a conversation and not feel the pressure to keep the discussion afloat. It felt natural, comfortable to the witch.

"May I ask a question? You dont have to answer of course but I've been curious. How exactly did you meet Kiki, at the fair perhaps?" Her head tilted thoughtfully. Her student hadn't mentioned how she met her vampire, only that she had one, and then slowly her friend circle kept expanding. More vampires, an angel, Kiki had even mentioned Jaylah. It was a headache to try and keep up with who Kiki befriended, it was easier to note who wasn't a friend, if any. The thought presses another matter, Kiki wasn't exactly on good terms with Tamryn. Whether she knew that or not.

She knew the question was out of the blue, especially since she had just asked one previous, part of her thought it was rude even to ask such a inquiring question, especially on this night. Yet, she didn't know anyone else who knew Kiki quite as well, someone closer to the wiccan than he was. Elidi didn't think she was being foolish, Stan would give her an honest answer, if he chose to give any at all.

Briefly she's apologetic, perhaps ruining the slight progress the two had made together. "....Do you think Kiki has malicious intent?" There is a short pause, struggling to find the appropriate words, "Please don't misunderstand, I think very highly of Kiki, and this is not a discussion for me to discuss her poorly. I know she wouldn't -- ... I just want to make sure my judgment isn't hindered by my connection with her." Her brows draw together, fingetips tapping nervously together. While Kiki hadn't destroyed anything of value, the witch had strong spellbooks stored in her home, ones that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Hence the wards set around to alert the detective to any intruders. That and a few other reasons..

#trch: stanislav #sorry this reply is kind of a mess #her expression in the gif is killing me tho lol

2 notes · View notes

dyker-farmer · 4 years

Text

More bro fic.... angst fodder kind content.

Take that can away if you can

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event- not 10, jesus-, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

I also put it on Ao3.

[[MORE]]

A bitch bastard man and a bitch walk into a room... Chapter 1/2/3/4

"I think we should talk about this."

If the room was stifled before, this just causes the pin to drop, and the relative lull to shatter with it. I don't want a storm, but we can't pretend the sea's a slightly oversized pond if we want him not drowning in it- again, my mind supplies, unhelpful.

He's zoning out again, blurry eyes pointedly off me, preferring the turned-off TV.

Let's start easy. "Why did you come here, Shane?"

"I-I-" It sounds like an excuse building up and it bubbles out like a shaken can, "I don't- I shouldn't have-" he goes to up and leave, and we just can't have that.

I scrape my chair closer and grab his shoulder, same as before. Hopefully it's more placating than caging. "No, you should have. You did good. Seeking out, remember?"

He doesn't answer but stills.

"Like Dr.Campbell and Harvey said." I try again.

"Yeah… Yeah." Deep breathing. "I. Don't know." He searches for my face, not quite past the nose. I nod, ushering him on. "It's. Stupid." I frown and my eyebrow goes higher than before and he immediately doubles down. "I know- positiv' reinforchment and all that shit! But… It's hard." A tired hand wipes the most of moisture off his face, before it goes back to wriggle with the other on his lap. "It's so fuckin' hard. Didn't even last two seasons!-"

I cut him off. "Two seasons is a lot! One and a half too. Last time, you'd tried to go cold turkey on the spot. We know what that got us." Sea foam in the mouth and a shared cold in the early spring, on top of a Joja lawsuit. "Shit's hard, like you said. You lasted one and a half this time. Next time-"

"Why the fuck do you always think there's gonna be a next time."

This time, I still. My laidback demeanor mirror his, but so does the cold anger creeping in and tensing both our backs.

"Because. There is going to be a next time. And another after that. And another. Same way there's been next times before this one now."

What's left unsaid we don't touch.

All irritation floods from him like it's just pointless to keep it in anymore, and his forehead goes to thunk softly against the wooden surface he leaned on before. The table muffles his next words a little.

"I can't… keep doing that." I don't peep. "I can't keep rolling back down and then up and down, and up, and down. I- I just can't, Garcia- Uidel-"

"I'll drag you there." I shrug.

"But you shouldn't have to!" His voice raises and make the boards vibrate where his skin's still pressed. "You shouldn't have to-to fuckin'-" he sniffles, the following words drowned out in held-back sobs. "Fuck damn it, you- I said I- I wouldn't be a burden anymore!"

He's crying out loud now, open sorrow and no walls left. Out of all the things you could stick on the not-so amiable man sulking straight from bed to Jojamart to Stardrop Saloon to bed, you probably wouldn't think of "extreme scare of bothering anyone". Yet it's all here in how he collapses silently in the mattress, wake without a sound, keep his head down the whole time he crosses town, tries to merge himself in the fake-nice blue of the shelves at work, then corners himself right between the chimney and the bar on Emily's side, stuck in-between two sources of warmth that can never touch him unless he swings one way or the other. And he doesn't a lot, still keeping to himself strictly. You probably wouldn't think either of how dreamy he gets, hidden in his alcove but seeing everything from there.

When Harvey nerds out about classical, jazz and electro swing music down the bar to me, trying to catch me up on my fuzzy memories of arts history and the implications of breaking codes in the tempo and the leisure of each instruments; of how each note gets a specific response from the brain if done right, and can make up for caffeine deprivation in miraculous ways, when there are no more chances to push back the dread of midterms season at doctor school.

When Elliott, boisterous and drunk, arm-on-arm with an equally inebriated Leah, calls out to the whole place to hear out his latest soliloquy, and drags on the words too much, but with a voice that carries it well, all flamboyance and no limits, as his hair floats around him in a crown and he reigns over the room like a kind lion- Description all intoxicated words from your chicken man truly, not mine. I always get too caught up in the pendulum of Leah's braid and her crooked smile to quite appreciate his theatrics. But the recital rings clear, and everyone applauds the performance- because hey, you applaud a drunk guy showing off the prowess of not tripping a single word in a ten minutes tirade, but also because it really is that good! Everyone, even Shane, whose hands zipped to under his armpits the moment our eyes crossed and I met his pink cheeks with a clairvoyant smile.

Hey, what can I say. Dude's a sapiosexual. Hence why we'll never and cannot bang. That, and, uh, the being lesbian thing.

But all this is closed off and not for anyone to see behind see-through fogged windows, like those kitchen cabinets, when you can make out the piled plates all resting against the cold surface precariously, bound to crash and shatter the moment you open them.

It took a good wrecking ball of a fake-oblivious polite faced stranger and my incessant, hot pepper poppers-powered pestering, to even just crackles the glass.

The rest was all done out of his own volition. He can't see that because alcohol is a depressant, and guzzling it down leads to blurry concepts made softer always and pretty much lush in brain, and when he's off the thing, and that's rare, he instantly goes from not there to thinking he's everywhere, soiling everything and giving nothing.

His sobbing doesn't relent, and he whimpers issues of "trustworthy sack of shit", "not being worth the fucking shrink's money", "not being worth his aunt's troubles", "not being worth Jas". At some point he goes to grapple with his hair, and tugs brusquely once, then twice, then I have to reach for his wrist to make him stop, which he snatches back as soon as I make contact. But he doesn't grab anything to pull or pinch or punch again, so that's good. I stay on standby beside him, but don't touch him. He rasps more condemnations, struggles to breathe enough through the phlegm spreading in his respiratory system, and I start reenacting the steps to stop a hyperventilation in my head, and the first aid for choking, when he begins to cough violently, his entire frame upset with the movement.

He takes the tissue box i nudge with insistence toward him, and ends up spitting mouthfuls of mucus mixed with some bile in the basin under his feet. Most of it is clear and smells of fruits, not beer, so I'm not too worried. When I go to stabilize him by taking his shoulders, he grasps at my wrists to stop me- but let them stay here, while he clings. The tremors get to me now, and I remind myself that this is good, this is before the cliffs and him finding refuge to burst open, not glassily stare at the weeping clouds as he blabbers on the meaninglessness of his life.

This is… very alive.

I ought to be glad.

I let him come down at his rhythm, counting the pulses of his wrists as I feel mine numb with the blood circulation slowed down under his hold.

When he's back with a mind, I count to three, then let go. His arms flop back down, on his lap and hands dangling between his tighs. He blows his nose again.

"I'm so pathetic…"

"Yeah sure, and I'm a serial prom queen."

Instead of jabbing back and forth, we get interrupted by a soft mewling. Both of us turn to the door, that's opened slightly to let in Eryza, the pitter-patter of her paws on the stone flooring the only sound for a moment…

As we both stare in revulsion at her jaw, a single line of vomit dripping of it.

Shane puts his head down in shame, not even having the strenght to hide further.

"Sorry."

"Nah, 's okay. She's already trash, anyway."

Eryza edges closer and rapidly tour around our legs- going back to Shane's feet twice, her whiskers tickling his exposed ankles. Purring loudly, she completely ignore my chastizing as I threaten to make her diet periwinkle-based to counter-act her literal potty mouth, and she scampers to do who-knows-what in the rooms.

"Your vibes are rancid, do you hear me?? Rancid, girl!" I call after her. "I swear to Yoba, Shane, your aunt might as well have brought me a raccoon."

Turning back to him, I can see the short-lived humor of the situation was, well, short-lived. I sigh.

It's late. We're both tired. Tomorrow is sunday. It's cool. We've got time.

I don't sit back down right away. First, I put a hand down on the nape of his neck, that slides to the top of his scalp, right where he'd tug. My quota, remember?

He sniffles some, a few teardrops make their way to the planks, unheard. We stay like this for a moment.

He doesn't shake me off, but in the slow tandem his body takes, rocking lightly from back to forth, I can tell it's enough, for now.

I sit back down on my chair.

I lean on the hand I'd put in his dark purple strands before, smelling cedar wood and pine trees. I don't assume. My farm has plenty of those to stumble through. And even if he went back to the cliff, another time again. I do that too. With my own cliffs back at not-home, but close. There's a sense, in staring down what couldn't take you.

Like visiting a scene crime that you've narrowly escaped from. And pride too. And the thrill of asking- "what if again? What if this time?"- and okay, I can see why it'd be worrying to have him go there a thrice time on his own late in the evening.

But last time was fine, the one before was made fine, and he might need a bitch for a friend right now, but not a watchdog.

His forehead is back against the table.

Three fingers massage my temple. I don't know how much he'll even remember tomorrow, but it's worth the try, always.

"Shane, dude, look at me." He doesn't.

"Dude."

Still doesn't budge. I knock the wood lightly.

"Yo, punk, my eyes are up here." I joke.

He snorts, or maybe he sniffles, and his chin's now resting on the table, peering through the forgotten drinks to watch me. His hands are hidden, probably still clutching his midsection. If I went on a rollercoaster toasted, I'd probably look the exact same.

"I told you before that you literally couldn't be a burden."

He snorts for sure this time, derisive. I knock wood again. "Don't look away from me when I talk, young man. Rude ass punk."

"Bitch." He throws.

"Bitch bastard man." I send back. "Anyways, as I was saying. If I choose you're my dumb of ass to keep around, that's me, that's my decision. You can't burden me if I choose the hard mode package and roll with it. So stop it. I literally told you before, it's not about you not making efforts or burdening people, it's about people who want to deal with you, out of free will."

"Freaky."

"Oh shut up, you dramatic himbo wannabe."

"A what now?"

"Internet slang. Gotta admit you're closer to a dad bod type, but the energy's here, according to many."

He shuffles, self-conscious. "Y'don't need to remind me…"

"Oh hush you, you're perfectly fine. And Elliott would eat his dumb little lobster and pomegranate toasts off that belly if you'd grow out of your own shell and let him."

He sputters unintelligibly, red as a fecking pepper. Good. Flustered is better than self-depreciating.

But now he's pulled on his hood and the strings all the way out, and resumes to chanting me to fuck off, so that might be a good call for a break.

"I'm gonna change and clean up, you need anything? Do you think you'll go back to the ranch, or stay here for the night?" It's happened before, but you can count them on the fingers of one hand.

A long silence follows and I allow myself a quick look in the mirror. Yeah, we're skipping a shower tonight, but the simple hairbrush will not do. I look like a bird's nest that the birds fought in to know who'd keep the children when bird 2 takes off and bird 1 is left to mourn the empty space that'll never fill up the same again and the good times that won't be- wow, trauma lane much, not now, cowpal. First we buckle up our current rodeo. I walk back to the main room, now pajama-clad.

"I've got the beds for the possible kids up there, don't ask me why Robin put so many there, we're two people in a house, and I can lend you a Tee if you want."

He's anxious, chewing his thumb. "Emily won't mind?"

"She's out, sleeping at Haley's tonight. Girls' night and sisters catching up. It's important for her energy flow and karmic balance. Plus, you know she wouldn't mind, she likes you."

That makes him blush more, covering up the alcohol damage enough. I take note, but don't comment. Things for later. They pile up tonight.

"I- I can't go back to the ranch like this."

"You could. Marnie knows better than act as if you're doing this for fun, now. She'd have to understand. But you don't have to." I reassure him when agitated pupils jump up to me. Let's keep that ongoing panic attack at bay. "Either way, I won't mind."

I sit back. Stretch my arms between us. Catch his worrying hands into mine. Give him a squeeze. Tense appendages don't squeeze back, but don't pull back either. That's half a win. He stops torturing the poor things, and unfold with visible effort, like a crumpled up paper flower put on water. His head shakes, and I can't tell if it's conscious, him speaking with himself or trying to shake off a thought, or just a reflex. He visibly forces his shoulders to relax.

"I'm… not bothering you?" Righteous. Seeking vocal positive reinforcement, like a pro.

"Nope." I pop out the 'p'.

"... I think I'll, uh, stay for tonight."

My hands shoot into the air. "Woo! Sleepover, baby!"

I don't catch his hands curling back on themselves, trying to capture that leftover warmth in the late summer night.

--- to be continued.

#panic attack cw #emetophobia cw #alcohol cw #suicide cw #stardew valley shane #stardew valley farmer #sdv shane #sdv farmer #☆writing☆#1!Dow Farm #Farmer Uidelsib #♧Shane

5 notes · View notes