#which is why you shouldn't really base your entire self-worth on what you can do for other people

[marshmallowprotection]

With V’s route MC in mind, then do you think Ray’s route MC is very naive and trusting? Always giving Ray the benefit of doubt because despite how sketchy he and this cult is, MC can’t shake the feeling he’s a gently person?

Or are they just really REALLY naive? 😭 I wonder if GE worries about that, since they’re so kind, understanding and trusting.

I don't think the Another Story MC is naive. There's no right or wrong way to go about explaining this because Otome MCs are generally, in most cases, written to be empathetic people who give everyone the benefit of the doubt and fight their hardest to ensure that people are aware of their worth. They love their chosen route's character but the circumstance and how they act can deviate to fit the vibe of that one they're chasing, but some of the the overall characteristics are more or less similar. It's a rough base that you can use to insert yourself as most people want to love and help the characters.

You kind of have to be someone who does that to be an MC that will wind up going to dangerous places or doing seemingly dumb things that most people wouldn't. Most people aren't going to go to another location because they know better, be it to a cult in the mountains in which you're going to face despair or an apartment you've never been to in a hallway that holds danger you don't even see. For the sake of a game that allows you to explore these themes, you have to go out of your way to do dangerous things.

MCs are like that to allow you to explore a full range of things without feeling like the MC is their own character. It's just like [Y/N] stories on the internet. It's not an entirely blank character, but it gives you just a bit of spice so you can insert yourself in there without feeling like the characters love the MC model instead of you. Since that's one of the things that can disconnect certain Otome players. That's why you've got Otome with faceless MC that allow you to be yourself and Otome with actual MCs who you're just playing as to romance them.

Personally, I try to look at it like this: If someone offered me a place with free room and board, I'd be dumb enough to take that. That's a product of living in a society where I can't afford to take care of my needs. That's how cults get people, tbh. They will chase those who are on the fringe of society and manipulate them with things that they're not able to get help with. There's other ways cults get to the people they want, but that's a common theme.

Sometimes, I wonder if the AS!MC is homeless or struggling with a lot, and that happens to be why Ray found them. Yes, he was trying to find someone who fit his dream, but if they happened to be the kind of person that is in need of some kind of help? He could use that to his advantage. It's hard to say if that's the case because of how it seems as though via the Fried Chicken Prologue Ending and the Assistant Ending since the MC seems to be living just fine in those.

But, still, I wonder if the implication is meant to be that MC is willing to go because they've got hardship in their life and this seems like a useful experience they can use to move forward. It can always be that the MC is just too nice for their own good and wants to help Ray as they can, but... they're too self-aware about things when it comes to Ray, Suit Saeran, V, and Rika in the route. They're not lacking any sort of ability to see danger.

So, hey, while it's interesting to imagine why the MC is written the way they are that makes sense contextually in universe, the answer that's real is more boring since it's just to allow you to project what you want onto them. It's why the MC for the RFA members is able to enter the apartment without anything to mention their background. It's all for your benefit to insert yourself.

GE Saeran and Saeyoung both affirm to the player in the game that they shouldn't be so naive to trust people they speak to on the phone without knowing who they are. Now, it's up to you to decide if that's because you trust too much in the people around you despite being able to see danger, or if it's because you don't see a threat from the people around you at all because it never clicked.

#character analysis #ask #anon #mod kait #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #mysticmessenger

[booyouimcrazy]

Taking Space

It’s rare to feel this light. 

Today i came back to say goodbye properly, before I disappeared.  Over the last couple of days i’ve REALLY been in my thoughts about you. 

They have gone up, down, and every other direction imaginable. 

I just opened the door after Vignesh left as well, and as I did, i couldnt help but think I feel less sad now than I did before. Like the last few days have felt like absolute mammothian bullshit personally, cause of the thought of losing you.

I've put myself through all the possible thoughtframes.

It not being the right time. (Will it ever be? Battling myself for thinking I want there to be.)

You not wanting a relationship. (Will you ever? Could I change you? Battling myself to say I shouldnt be basing a future relationship on wanting to change you, that's apparently a red flag.)

Us being really good in a couple sense (Like, really though, we have a tendency of being really well behaved as a couple, it's only on the inside that we argue quite a bit.)

Seeing all these reels talk about setting expectations before hand(Which we didn't do. Because I always imagined I'd only date you, and FWBs wasn't even ever an option, until taper down/doomsday happened, and even then, it wasnt really clear.)

Me wanting to be a priority and the place you always wanted to come back to. (Your safe space. The place you want to come to to retire away and just chill for a bit.)

Me thinking I'll never make it back, because I'll never get over wanting to date you, and we cant get sexy if that's where I am, and I cant see your face if all i'll want to do is hold it & kiss it.

Really dragging a dagger through us by bringing it up again, almost like I was trying to make you feel worse, but I just needed to make sure I was telling you as much as I was thinking without making it an absolute blow to the gut.

I think I fell in love with you, because it's been insanely easy.

I've never had to think extra about sharing a single thing with you, it just comes out easy, it's like you have some weird kind of key to my mind.

And I guess that's just one of the loves i'll have in my life. Which I could never possibly be happy about.

For all the loyal puppy I call myself, I definitely made myself hella doomsy to see if it could get a rise out of you, unfortunately - which maybe shouldn't have been the route I took.

But my life has never felt nicer.

Having you around has been such a blessing,

I dont think I deserve you either, but all I've ever wanted is you.

I think the thing you've given me is actually the ability to be entirely myself, and just accepted it with absolute ease.

If it meant how good I was with words, the way I understand sarcasm and can play off it with you, or be cryptic, because mostly, you get it, those are some of the crutches I stand on.

But there's also all the times you kind of save me from going through an absolute self worth rage trigger spiral around my parents, Because somehow all I need is to talk about what im thinking, but I cant ever with my own family -

And the fact that you willingly will communicate and put yourself through trenches to know what someone's feeling, and how you can actively help them, but then also take the steps to change - it's mind-boggling that you would.

Especially for a me. I'm a nobody. You'd never even heard me on a phone call. Or seen me. Or even ever met me. And you gave me more than my own blood & family ever did. I think that's the hard part to accept, I guess. Is the fact that you were able to give me all the emotional bits I havent got from my family ever, and then also the sexting. LIKE, WTAF is that sexual chemistry. So, combine those together for someone whose never had either? And watch it be kryptonite. I guess that's why I've wanted to be in a relationship with you bad, Because it is SO EASY to do the hard bits with you around. But like i've said over & over at this point, I hope that this is just the sign for how glorious it'll be when someone is actually willing to give me time everyday, and doesnt live with the daily stress of needing to run a business. My life will truly never be the same, because I have never had quality interaction after quality interaction day after day like I have with you. LET'S NOT FORGET. your INSANE sense of humour, that gets me so good. But yeah, all those exact things are things I hope to one day enjoy again most thoroughly. You might fall in love with Hannah though. Weirdly, that's something my mind wants to predict. Is that Male Hannah and Hannah fall in love. I mean, if you do to her what you've done to me, I will likely have to stop talking to you for life, So either you fall in love with her, Or we just become a trio. But I cant wait to be your friend again, Because i know i will miss my bestfriend too much to not make it back. So everything in my power will work to internalise that I will never date you. And cant expect relationshippy things from you, because they will never be able to be met. I look forward to the day. LYMAX. thankyou for the best time in my life, I wouldnt know love without knowing you, And for that im immensely grateful.

[aterriblerat]

Orris: I want you and Pine-Needle to stay together forever.

Birch-Tree: OK

Birch-Tree: *cheats on him and moves to the North Pole*

#Birch-Tree is in this headspace where he derives a lot of self-worth from what he gives to other people #right now FC needs him most so he's dropping everything to be with him #and in the process really screwing over Pine-Needle #which is why you shouldn't really base your entire self-worth on what you can do for other people #because having that kind of drive will make it harder for you to triage and act fairly to everyone #even Fish yelled at him about that one #(not that he turned down the offer of good dick because Fish has the moral compass of a sandfly)

[fiftyfiftyinla]

HARDIN. I scan through the pages of the small notebook, my eyes move across the words quickly as I decide where to start. It's a journal from her religion class, it took me a minute to figure out what the hell it was because each entry is labeled with a word and a date, most of them having nothing to do with religion.

Pain. The word catches my eye and I begin to read.

Does pain turn people away from their God? If so, how? Pain can turn anyone away from just about anything. Pain is capable of causing you to do things you would never consider doing, such as blaming God for your pain. Pain.. such a simple word that holds so much inside. I have come to learn that pain is the strongest emotion one can feel. Unlike every other emotion, there is no upside to pain, no positive notion that can make you look at the pain from a different perspective, there is only pain. Lately I have become very well acquainted with pain, the ache has nearly become unbearable. Sometimes when l'm alone, which is more often than not as of recently, I find myself trying to decide which type of pain is worse. The answer isn't as simple as I thought it would be. The slow and steady aching pain, the type of pain that comes when you've been hurt repeatedly by the same person yet here you are, here I am, allowing the pain to continue, it never ends. Only in those rare moments when he pulls me to his chest and makes promises that he never seems able to keep, does the pain disappear. Just as I get used to the freedom, my freedom my self inflicted pain, it returns with another blow.

This doesn't have a damn thing to do with religion, this is about me.

I have decided that the hot, burning, inescapable pain is the worst. This pain comes when you finally begin to relax, you finally breathe, thinking that the pain is yesterday's problem when in fact it's today's problem, tomorrow's, and every day after that. This pain comes when you pour everything into something, into someone, and they betray you so suddenly that the pain crushes you and you feel as if you are barely breathing, barely holding on to that small fraction of whatever is left inside of you begging you to go on, not to give up.

Fuck.

Sometimes it's faith that people hold onto, sometimes, if you're lucky enough you can confide in someone else and trust them to pull you out of the pain before you dwell in it for too long. Pain is one of those hideous places that once visited you have to fight your way out and even when you think you have escaped you are permanently branded. If you're like me, you don't have anyone to depend on, no one to take your hand and assure you that you will make it through this hell. Instead, you have to lace up your boots, grab your own hand, and pull yourself out.

My eyes move to the date at the top of the page, this was written while I was in England. I shouldn't read any more, I should just put the damn book down and never open it again but I can't. I have to know what else was written in this book of secrets. This is the closest to her I fear that I will ever fucking get. I turn to another page labeled "Faith".

What does faith mean to you? Do you have faith in something higher? Do you believe that faith can bring good things into people's lives?

This should be better, this entry should knife the ache in my chest. This one couldn't be related to me.

To me, faith means believing in something other than yourself. I don't believe that any two people can possibly hold the same view on faith whether their only faith is religion based or not. I do believe in something higher, I was raised that way. My mother and I went to church every single Sunday and most Wednesday's. I don't go to church now, which I probably should but l'm still deciding howI feel about my religious faith as an adult without my mother's influence. When I think about faith my mind doesn't automatically go to religion, it probably should but it just doesn't. It goes to him, everything does. He is my every thought, I'm not entirely sure if that's a good thing but that's the way it is and I have faith that it will work out for us in the end. Yes, he's difficult and overprotective, sometimes even controlling. okay, he's often controlling but I have faith in him that he means well with each frustrating action. My relationship with him tests me in ways thatI never thought imaginable but every second is worth it. I have faith that one day the deep fear of losing me will dissolve and he will embrace our future together, that's all I want./ know he wants it too, though he would never say it. Thave so much faith in that man that I will take every single tear, every single pointless argument, I'll take it all just to be around for the day when he has faith in himself. I have faith that one day Hardin will say what he feels openly and honestly, finally putting an end to his self-imposed exile. I have faith that one day he will finally see that he isn't a villain. He tries so hard to be one but deep down he's really a hero. He's been my hero, my tormenter at times, but mostly my hero. He saved me from myself, / spent my life pretending to be someone I wasn't and Hardin has shown me that it's okay to be myself. I don't have to conform to the person my mother wanted me to be and I thank him dearly for it. I have faith that he will see how truly incredible he is, he's so incredibly perfectly imperfect and I love him so much for that. He may not show it the conventional way but he tries and that's all I can ask for from him. I have faith that if he continues to try, he will finally allow himself to be happy. I will continue to have faith in him until he stops trying.

I close the book and pinch the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control my emotions. She had all of this faith in me for no damn reason. I'll never understand why she wasted her time on me in the first place but reading her unguarded thoughts this way twists the knife, removes it, and impales it into my chest once more.

I really am a fucking drunk. I'm hovered over the kitchen counter with a fucking bottle of vodka in my hands. I twist the top off and bring the bottle to my lips. Just one drink will cause the guilt to go away. If I have one drink I can force myself to pretend Tessa will be home soon. It has worked before to numb the pain, it will work this time. One drink.

Just as I close my eyes and tilt my head back, Tessa's teary eyes flash behind mine. I open my eyes, turn the sink faucet on, and pour the vodka down the drain.

#after #after movie #hero ft #hero fienness tiffin #hardin scott #hardin tessa #tessa young #after we fell movie #after we fell #after we fell quotes #after we fell book #after quote #after quotes

[dyker-farmer]

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