[Takes less muscles to smile than to frown! Fake it until you make it, even if that means faking for the rest of your life! Even if smiling at the wrong times turns your smile into your "creepy face."
Their voice comes muffled and subdued behind their fingers, but it does nothing to really hide the snivelling hitches and hiccups, the definitely-just-laughs that they should be better than. None of it's right, none of it's normal, none of it feels like the correct, proper way to be. Maybe nothing would feel right, if somebody wrong's trying to do it.
They can't look at Frisk. Can't look up. But the giddy, hysterical spillover fades, and they just feel empty, aching, too dirt-smeared and exhausted to be human at all. So they sort of... lift their hands away from their face, hold them out halfheartedly.]
Don't touch me. Don't hug me back.
[Fingers where they shouldn't be. Feel queasy all over again.]
But... can I...?
[Just... have something to hold onto. A literal anchor. Feels like they're going to lose their shape entirely, just fizz apart into an incomprehensible gray smear. Like even being might be a challenge.]
no subject
[Takes less muscles to smile than to frown! Fake it until you make it, even if that means faking for the rest of your life! Even if smiling at the wrong times turns your smile into your "creepy face."
Their voice comes muffled and subdued behind their fingers, but it does nothing to really hide the snivelling hitches and hiccups, the definitely-just-laughs that they should be better than. None of it's right, none of it's normal, none of it feels like the correct, proper way to be. Maybe nothing would feel right, if somebody wrong's trying to do it.
They can't look at Frisk. Can't look up. But the giddy, hysterical spillover fades, and they just feel empty, aching, too dirt-smeared and exhausted to be human at all. So they sort of... lift their hands away from their face, hold them out halfheartedly.]
Don't touch me. Don't hug me back.
[Fingers where they shouldn't be. Feel queasy all over again.]
But... can I...?
[Just... have something to hold onto. A literal anchor. Feels like they're going to lose their shape entirely, just fizz apart into an incomprehensible gray smear. Like even being might be a challenge.]