#yes i like shane and his chickens a lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matamisin · 2 years

Note

I am absolutely living for the Stardew art. I love that game so much and have over 600 hours of playtime in it. I did have a little bit of a request but feel free to ignore! Could you rate all of the potential spouses based on your personal interpretations?

Hiii!! Yes yes yes thank you for this ask- I planned to do quick portraits anyways! <3 <3

But let's start!!

[PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, reblogs welcome! >:3c)

Harvey: 10/10

Handsome yes yes

Very sweet and loyal like bro LETS GO that's all I need

Doctor?? AKA he fixes up love interest who regularly gets into trouble? Endless possibilities BRO this is my favorite trope to write/draw about

HOWEVER HARVEY DOESN'T ACCEPT ANY INSURANCE HE JUST CHARGES OUR ASSES bro I'm trying to have a tender moment of almost dying and him worrying and then BOOM hands me my bill like "see you at home honey ily"

Overall he would treat us right yes

Animals LOVE his ass but he's awkward with them LOL

He's often a tired man due the clinic but he'll pull through to do things with the farmer when they're dating (like outings)

In the beginning when farmer is frequently getting hurt in the mines and being brought in hurt, he buys them a walkie-talkie. He's said multiple times that he doesn't recommend going in those dangerous places but learns that farmer's determined to keep going so he'll do what he can to make sure they can relay when they need help

He'll chime in on the walkie when he sees farmer going towards the mines and has them check things off a mental list (hi, this is Harvery- going to the mines? Do you have your weapon? How about food? You have your first-aid kit on you too right?)

This man will be TENSE the whole day when he knows farmer is in the mines. He'll only ease up once he knows they're not in there anymore

Disclaimer: from here on most of what I write will be 100% from my head because I haven't married anyone else yet LMFAO

Sam: 10/10

I interpret him as the golden retriever type- very hyper and friendly

That just makes him 1000% more loveable

HE'D TREAT US RIGHT

Very good with kids cause of Vincent which is like YES

A little blunt sometimes but that's wassup

Doesn't eat the best (AKA I give him two pizzas every week. Hmm. So maybe that means I'M the problem lol)

Also doesn't really know a lot of cooking, but when he moves in farmer finds new-looking cookbooks tucked away in his spaces

I feel like he'd be the type to have a switch in attitude- he's v friendly UNTIL he has reason to distrust/not like someone and then he'll flip from bright to cold (especially if the person has bad intentions about somebody he cares about)

Doesn't realize farmer and him are dating he just thinks they’re hanging out a lot and just kissing as really good friends

When he does realize they’re dating he gets all flustered and red

Would let you win at Mario-Kart

Despite his goofiness, he knows how to be a gentleman. He's always keeping an eye on farmer and making sure they're okay. If they're out together, the moment the sun goes down his jacket is on farmer's shoulders. When it's raining and he wakes up late and sees that farmer has gone out of the house for the day, he'll get up quick and run around with an umbrella and a thermos of hot coffee until he finds farmer. He'll follow farmer around with the umbrella covering mostly farmer, so he gets pretty drenched.

Very vocal about his love

Shane: 10/10

Ah the chicken man himself

ALSO GREAT WITH KIDS but in a different light- he's way more protective about them whereas Sam is more the laid-back and playful parent-figure (he throws his children into the air)

Recovering from his alcoholism and the habits that came with it (messiness and cluttery) but he's trying his best aww

Will rub his stubble on your face when he comes in for a hug ouchie

Even though he is not a dad- he just comes with dad stuff (dad outfits, dad jokes, EVERYTHING)

His chickens are protective of him so you must prove yourself worthy

(In my headcanons, Joja is kinda twisted) Will start to distance himself from Joja after farmer tells him of how they're trying to hurt the Junimos. He may eventually quit to work elsewhere, even though he doesn’t really know what Junimos are but something about farmer telling him about them seems sincere

He's very cuddly after getting to know him and dating. His love language happens to be physical touch and every touch makes him fall harder

This also means he gets a little sad when it's summer and too hot to cuddle that farmer turns around in their sleep. He gets pouty in the morning after until he gets a kiss LMAO

He'll frequently realize how messy he leaves his spaces, and will clean up. He tries to upkeep the cleanliness and manages it for a few days before it starts to get messy again. Sometimes it lasts a while, but sometimes it just slips his mind due to bad habits

Farmer pops into mind every time he has an urge to drink, and he'll shake it off and go do something else for them. He's DETERMINED to be the best person he can be for farmer

Alex: 10/10

A little rough at first lol- his attitude is very icky in the beginning BUT he's cute

Once you get through that exterior he practically does a 180- HE'S SO SWEET AND CARING and no longer uhhh icky

He would tackle things for you (can he help farmer out of the mines when they pass out in the game? If he does I'd like to think he just picks them up and BOOKS it for the exit knocking anything in his path down LMFAO)

Becomes pouty when he gets a little jealous

Again he's very sweet- he kisses Evelyn and George on the cheeks every morning before he leaves the house, he often thinks about his late mom and visits her grave with flowers from Pierre's and has a small picnic there

I feel he would be prone to dreams about his mom, waking up in a cold sweat and tears. After the 8-heart event he gets up and does something sweet like making a whole breakfast for Evelyn & George or giving Dusty some quality time with walks, playing, and a good treat

Will be extremely protective over farmer. Farmer gives him a heart attack every time they go to the mines or the skull cavern or even in the sewer like baby what are you doing WHY ARE YOU GOING INTO THE MANHOLE

The caves he can't follow farmer with because he knows he isn't trained to fight monsters like farmer is and might hold them back instead, but he'll wait outside or tell Harvey that farmer's in the mines instead

Doesn't come out with it but he needs a lot of reassurance due to abandonment issues. He gets a little clingy and touchy but a little shy. (reaching for farmer’s hand/just pinching onto a part of the farmer’s clothes and holding on)

Sebastian: 10/10

This one might be rough cause I've never really felt much for him IM SORRY

Once farmer asks him out he's very unsure how to proceed. He'll call them things like dude and bro *with love*

It's literally like pulling teeth for him to call farmer honey just cause he's never been the affectionate type till now hehehe he'll try to say it and then drop to his knees like OTL and curl up (He'll get it eventually tho- this is just like the first few months LMFAO)

He has frogs right? He'll show you his frogs

Your void chickens will love this emo boy they just vibe y'know?

He shows his love through acts of service and gifts, finding out the things you love and bringing them to you

As awkward as he is, his true intentions are very evident when he starts to really try to reconnect with Robin and asking her for advice on most anything he hasn't much a clue about.

He wants to be able to properly feel like part of his family, because farmer tells him that he deserves to feel loved there too. He’ll have a difficult heart-to-heart with Robin, Demetrius, and Maru and over time the family dynamic starts to heal. Sebastian is eternally grateful for farmer and tells them about the relationship and they’re all overjoyed to have farmer as part of the family too

He WILL stop smoking if farmer ever raises concern for his well-being

He starts to come out of his shell more (in general) as he and farmer progress their relationship. He tries his best to be a great partner, and everyone can sense that his demeanor is a little bit brighter than before. He starts to not be as shy about PDA too

He has many hoodies for farmer to steal HOWEVER they're all the exact same pair HAHAHA

Elliott: 10/10

I may also struggle with Elliott for similar reasons

Handsome right off the bat bro

But you'll never be able to be the one with the great hair in the relationship cause man he dominates in that

I see him as a gentle lover- very old-school romantic

He writes farmer love poems and songs often HE WILL SERENADE FARMER EVEN THOUGH HE'S ALREADY MOVED IN

Has pictures of farmer EVERYWHERE like his desk, in his books and notebooks, and has one of those accordion picture holders in his wallet of farmer and himself (and their child(ren) when time comes) He shows them off to the other villagers at the Saloon even tho they literally know farmer LMAOO

Has a very comforting vibe to him- he knows how to coddle farmer after they take a visit to the clinic

He'd let farmer use his favorite pen, trusting that it would return to him

Romantic gestures are EVERYWHERE. Songs, poems, so many pretty flowers in farmer's hair.

I think he'd be the best cook out of everyone. Farmer wants to go out on a fancy date out of the village?? S'NOT GOOD ENOUGH- Elliott will change the whole decor of the kitchen and spend hours cooking and preparing for farmer to come home and then he plays all the roles (waiter, bus person, lover, etc) through the entire meal. But if farmer really actually wants to go out he'll go with it

Bachelorettes will be done in part 2 soon!

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yourlocalcryptidfolklore · 4 months

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Shane Dating Headcanons pt 2 - NSFW

As the title says, this is a continuation of my last post- but a NSFW version. So yeah- MDNI. Get lost. Go do your homework kiddos. Not that minors should be on my page at all but especially not rn.

I would still say this is gender neutral but there is going to mentions of your genitalia and his own. Also going to mention makeup.

Anyway my lovelies, NSFW below the cut/below the gif.

☆ Shane definitely is a horny guy. I don't know how to explain it but he just is.

☆ And now that he's drinking less, he needs a new form of stress relief! So I hope you got a high drive babes.

☆ Of course he'd never force anything on you. He isn't that kind of a person. He's aware he has a hand and he knows how to use it.

☆ Anyway, when you guys DO fuck for the first time, he's definitely confident about it. He used to be a lot hotter in his eyes, but he has expirence. So long as you don't mind the dad bod- and yes- he has a dadbod idc. As I fat person I claim him for the fat people. I'll still rail him like there's no tomorrow.

☆ If you headcanon him as cis - Definitely has thick meat. It's nothing jaw dropping okay well maybe it is, but if you decide to do anal/oral or vaginal (assuming you have a vag), it fills you up pretty well.

☆ If you headcanon him as FTM - I would say he's got a bit of a bush on his vag. He'd shave it if you ask but he doesn't mind it. He would also have hair on his dick IMO, Bro is depressed and so am I. I know damn well if you're bed rotting you ain't gonna shave your puss puss.

☆ If you have a peen-ween - Shane knows what to do with it. It's fairly simple for him. His favorite thing to do to get you worked up is probably to grind against you or add some pressure to get you hard.

☆ "Oh my... did I get you all riled up?"

☆ Teases you about it if you're comfortable with that.

☆ If you have a vajooja - Still knows what he's doing, but he does have to work a little more to start up your engine since it might be a little bit harder to just put his leg near you and make you horny.

☆ Still, he'll put a hand on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze and watching you blush. Teasing you by moving it up reaaaallllyyyy close, then once you look flustered, he'll just stop innocently.

☆ He likes making his partner blush, he especially loves if you get all shy about it.

☆ Now onto kinks. Look at him. Look at the sad chicken man. Then look me in the eyes and say he isn't even the tiniest bit kinky.

☆ Definitely likes ruuning your makeup if you wear any. He wants you to be a mess. He loves looking as you with your hair all over, mascara down your face, clothes thrown all over, fucked apart until you're on another plane of existance.

☆ He also loves doing you in his clothes. Whether they're tight, loose, or just right, he will go bonkers if he gets to fuck you in his shirt.

☆ Will dirty talk as mean as you like it, but will also praise you as much as you wan't. I feel like Shane isn't a generally picky guy. Bro is just happy to be here.

☆ He will also try most kinks at least once to test the waters if you ask him too, so don't be shy! He's happy to make you happy :))

Alright my dears that's enough being horny for pixels.... for now. If you have any questions or want any elaborations on a headcanon feel free to drop an ask!

Oh and drink water. Can't thrist over fictional characters if you aren't hydrated!

Take care my lovelies!

#sdv shane #stardew valley #shane x farmer #shane headcanons #Nsft #Sdv nsft #18+ mdni

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boygiwrites · 1 year

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Harley D. Dixon 5

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. This is our CDC chapter, so TW for mention of suicide in this one. It's a little graphic.

And it might be better to go in blind, but if you'd like the second TW, please check the first tag on this post.

Other than that, please enjoy reading!

Glenn exhales, "Would you look at that?"

The sun is rising.

Last night I was a dying dog and today I am Harley Dixon.

Me, Dad and Glenn are on the roof of the parked RV, watching the sky give birth to the sun, knowing that I got hundreds more sunrises waiting for me; that the worst is over, like Rick said. The morning is as fresh as peeled summer fruit, and it's all ours. I'm reminded of special breakfasts on our old porch, where my Uncle Merle and my Dad would be scooping burnt scrambled eggs into their mouths, and I'd be in Dad's lap, sipping on a box of orange juice. We had them whenever I won an award at school. I feel like I've won every award in the world.

Glenn is the one sitting next to us, now, in this new version of day-break. He fills the outline of where a ghost of a brother and an Uncle used to be. We're sharing a secret bag of old freeze-dried cherries, while everyone else sleeps. They're a small luxury, like the sun. We can make happiness out of anything.

It all feels right.

"One hundred percent mold free, this time. I swear," Glenn says, ripping the bag open and pouring me the first cherries.

"They better be," Dad jokes. "First time was free."

"Next time, you'll beat my ass?" Glenn guesses.

He looks like he's realizing his legacy is always gonna be the guy who can't make jerky.

"Damn straight."

We knock our plastic bowls together, smiling.

"To Harley."

"To me!"

"What a mess this whole thing was." Glenn shakes his head, chewing. "I know I already said it, but... I'm really sorry."

"Ain't your fault you can't cook." I giggle.

"Gee, thanks." He laughs. "I guess I deserve that."

"Just learn to salt the damn meat, China." Dad says. "Then we can talk."

"Okay, okay, okay." Glenn puts his hands up, but he's still grinning. "I suck at cooking. I get it. Are Dixons always this mean?"

Me and my Daddy answer, yes, at the same time.

"Good to know." Mumbles Glenn.

"The night I got scratched," I muse, my fingers painted with crayon-red cherry juice. "You was the first person after my Dad to reach the tent."

I remember people saying that Glenn could outrun a cheetah if there were enough supplies behind the finish line. The thought makes me laugh again. When you ain't big, you gotta find other ways to elbow your way through danger. Sometimes a good brain and better legs are all you need. Sometimes people like me and Glenn get to win, too.

"I guess so." Glenn's smiling shyly. "But only because Rick was too busy reloading. And Shane was up the back. And, well, I guess— When we first got back to camp, people were saying that you were gone. That you were missing, or dead, or— We didn't know. Your Dad, he just took off into the woods. Just, vroom, y'know? Like, gone. I thought if I was gonna be like anyone, it should be him. So, I went running, too."

Dad leans over and grips Glenn's shoulder; shakes it. A gesture that says, Man to man, I respect you. Maybe even, Brother to brother.

It takes a lot to earn my Dad's respect, if you ain't his blood.

"You all looked like you was boutta faint." I snicker, 'cause it's funny now.

"W-we all thought it was too late." Glenn tries to laugh. It's been hard, I guess, bottling up that night until now. "When we first saw the tent."

I see flashes of wet eyes, and teeth, and spiders.

"I did too," I confess.

My Dad turns me around in his lap, then, and bounces his knee a little. "But I woulda never let that happen, chicken, y'hear? And I ain't never gonna let that happen. I'd have to be dead, 'fore a walker laid his hands on you." He frowns, looking me dead in the eye.

"I hear." I nod. "It was just really scary."

"C'mere, babe."

He pulls me down to his chest — his heart — and I curl up there, where I know nothin' will ever get me.

"For the record, I was about to faint." Glenn mutters.

I throw a cherry at him and he dodges it, grinning.

"I knew it!"

We all sit like this for a long while, with the sun and the rustling wheat as our friends, snacking on our sour fruit. Then they start talking again, a notch deeper, a notch outta my league. Adult to adult. I realize they must think I'm asleep — It is the ass-crack of dawn, after all — so I don't interrupt.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know." Glenn tells my Dad. "You can protect your own. I get that."

"Don't tell me what I already know, kid."

"I just..." Glenn starts, but then there's nothing.

In this long moment, I think Glenn is going to leave down the ladder, 'cause it's what anyone else would do.

People like me and my Dad — People who hoard supermarket coupons, and talk real nasty, and get called hillbillies — don't mix well with people like Glenn. People pretend there isn't, but there's an invisible cut-off on who deserves what in life, and it ends right after people who only gotta work one job. Glenn's smart, and he prolly ain't never had to go hungry to pay his water bills, not once in his life. He prolly ain't never been to jail, or snapped a squirrel's neck, or re-used the same bottle of hand soap forty times over. He's like the rest of 'em. Rick and Lori. Shane. The kids in my old classes. Their parents on parent-night. We can work well together but anything else is askin' too much.

But we're family now, right? I think Glenn might leave, but—

"Well, for what it's worth, I couldn't do it." Is all Glenn says.

He doesn't leave. In fact, I hear him settling further into his chair. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

My Dad pauses. "Do what?"

"Look over my shoulder all the time. Worry about someone else every time I hear a gunshot. Walk around knowing I have that much to lose." Glenn sounds lost in thought, but then he surfaces. He ends his list with a simple, "Be a parent."

My Dad sighs, debating whether or not to go along with this.

"That ain't all there is to it." He eventually says.

"No?"

"Nah. It ain't some curse." Dad says. "I hear a gunshot? Sure, first thing I'm thinkin' 'bout is Harley. But that's the way it's meant to be."

"I just don't think I'd be able to handle it." I imagine Glenn gazing out at the sky. "These past few days have been stressful enough."

"Yeah, well that's why I got a kid 'n you don't." Dad's being a bit of a smart-ass. Then, he answers seriously. "You got a kid? You gotta be ready to die for 'em. But it ain't just sittin' around, waitin' to do it. It's the opposite. Every day I wake up, and I do it for her. I do everythin' I do for her. After that baby's born, who you were, what you liked doin', any plans you had — That's over. Suddenly, yer life ain't the most important thing you got, no more."

I've never heard my Dad talk like this. I wish our lives were worth the same, but I guess it don't work that way.

"And who were you?" Glenn asks, knocking back a cherry. "Before Harley?"

"A nobody. Drunk bastard with drunk-bastard friends." Dad scoffs.

"Well... That's good, then?" Glenn's guessing. "Sounds like she changed you for the better, man."

I can't imagine my Dad being anybody other than my Dad. The day I came into the world, so did he. There's nothin' before that.

"It's hard." Dad admits, prolly for the first time ever, to Glenn. "I love 'er, but it's hard as shit. Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out."

"You must have been going crazy during... everything."

"Oh, you think?" Dad jokes. "You ain't seen me fuck up that walkie?"

Glenn bursts out laughing. "It hit the RV when you threw it out the window. Scared the shit out of Dale."

I have to try really hard not to laugh. I'm meant to be pretend-asleep!

"You got any nieces, or anythin'?" Dad asks.

"No." Glenn answers. "My sisters were either too interested in their careers to have kids, or... Too young."

Glenn's sisters aren't here. Blood does everything it can to stay together. Dad taught me that. That means his sisters are both young and dead.

"That's gotta be tough, man." Dad sighs.

"No, it's alright. Sometimes I can pretend they're out there, together. Happy." He pauses. "What about you? Nieces? Nephews?"

Dad actually laughs a little. "Fuck no. Not from my side, at least. Guy like my brother ain't meant to spread his seed around. Ain't right."

Glenn starts laughing, too. "I guess not."

"Nah, Harley's my only girl." My Dad says. I feel him start playing with the end of my ponytail.

"You know, when you first showed up in camp, I thought she was Merle's." Glenn says, then quickly, "No offence."

"No shit?" Dad scoffs.

"No shit. I thought you looked too young to have a kid."

An unspoken joke makes them both laugh all over again.

"Yeah, well, I was real busy in my teen years."

I got no idea what that means, but it must be funny. Their conversation tapers from chuckling into a warm silence, and then it's just us and the sun again. It clips over a candy-colored cloud, and I can hear car doors opening and shutting, and loud yawns from down below. We're gonna be on the road again soon. I might not need a cure anymore, but we still need water, food, and walls, and the CDC's got it all. I hear someone shouting, alright, people, time to start heading out, and then a whole bunch of shuffling. The day isn't just ours, anymore.

My Dad stretches, groaning, and I pretend to be woken up by it.

He pinches my cheek. "Look who's here."

"Hey, Harley." Glenn smiles, packing up. "You enjoy the cherries?"

"Uh-huh," I smile back. "Thank you."

"No problem." He says. "There's actually some left over, if you want it."

He holds out the bag while I dig my hand into it.

I think it's funny how me, the man who made me, and the man who almost killed me are all friends, now. I learnt in science class that the more pressure you put on a rock, the more compact the molecules get. I think we're the molecules. It's bittersweet.

"Not too many." Dad warns. "You're still sick, remember? Don't want you messin' up my truck again."

"I remember," I promise, shoving a handful of cherries into my mouth. I also remember him sayin' he don't give a damn 'bout the truck.

Someone shouts out the radio channel again.

"Time to see this thing through, then." Rallies Glenn, but he looks nervous.

We say goodbye to the sunrise.

"Dad, is that—?"

"That's the CDC, alright."

We reach it by early morning. It's a monster of a building. It's like a big, white buoy in the middle of the ocean, saying, Come here, I'll keep you afloat. We ease to a stop and then we just look at it, 'cause it's all we can do. The CDC, right before our eyes. It's really there.

"It's bigger than I thought." I think aloud.

Dad just grunts, wary. "Stay close to me."

Our new walkie chimes, and Rick speaks to everyone when he says, "This is it, people. Leave your things. We're gonna walk up."

Why does the air feel so cold?

My Dad pulls both me and his crossbow out the truck, and then the whole group — one tired, beaten, hopeful force — are slowly making our way to the building. We walk through a silent field. I wish it could speak to us; tell us what it's been through.

We pass torn bags of sand and littered bullet shells. I think there's something here that we're not seeing, not yet, like a sleeping beast at the back of a cave, and when we find it, we're gonna be sorry we ever looked. We weave through big, black piles of clothes. The clothes are full, I realize. Full of hands, and legs; all white, all dead. They're bodies. They still have their human faces; they're still them, just dead, and they're studded with the bullets that the shells came from. The story tells itself, on behalf of the ghosts. They give their blood back to mother nature, dripping into the grass. I gasp. From head to toe, I go cold. My Dad shields my face, but I've already seen 'em. They're already nightmares.

Rick leads us. He leads us past trucks and barriers and blockades. Every sign the universe gives him to turn back, he ploughs through, chin up.

Maybe he's brave. Maybe he's stupid. Maybe he was designed to be both. Maybe we're walking to our deaths.

Nobody speaks. If they do, the bodies might wake up, and the graveyard we're intruding on will realize it doesn't want us here.

A crow squawks from its post on a dead soldier's helmet. If I spoke bird, I'd hear, Turn back.

We have to do this. It's what everyone's thinking, as they manage one foot in front of the other. Just one more step, and after that, just one more step. I take in the group, 'cause they ain't dead, and it's a little less awful to look at.

Morales, rifle up. Eliza, Louis and Sophia, three baby ducklings under their Mommas' shaking wings. Dale and Shane, polar opposites but in this moment, exactly the same; with their steely gaze and steady hands. Jacqui and Andrea, holding hands; two girls in women's bodies, walking through a world that wants to eat them. I catch Carl's eye. He catches mine, over the violence spread out before us. I watch him send me a thumbs up, which does nothing but turn me colder — colder than ice, colder than I've ever been — before my view is blocked for a second time, by Glenn. I'm sandwiched in; hidden, protected. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope I'll get to open them again. My Dad leads me by the shirt over the grass. I trust him.

My shoes hit something tougher, louder — Cement. Rock? Our footsteps echo, now. Are we really in a cave?

It goes double-dark, through my eyelids. Please don't leave us, I beg the sun nicely, We need you.

I squeeze my Dad's hand. He squeezes back.

Then I hear a rumble, like thunder, and I peek out from behind my Dad. It's Rick, banging on roller shutters. We all clench closer together, a fist ready to fight. Nobody does it on purpose, but me and all the other kids are pushed toward the middle. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Rick goes from one door to another to another, until he's shook down the entire row.

Guns are raised. We step back, together.

It's like knockin' on doors on Halloween. We don't know what creature's gonna answer. Maybe nobody.

"Anybody home?" Glenn mutters.

We stretch our silence for as long as we can stand it. There is no answer.

Newly determined, or maybe offended, or scared, or maybe all three, Rick beats down all the doors again like he hates 'em.

"Hey!" He calls out. "Whoever's in there, open up!"

"Nobody's here, man!" T-Dog shakes his head, but he ain't got no proof.

"Then tell me why you think all the damn shutters are down?" Rick snarls, and it's like we're in the parking lot again, and I'm scared.

And I should be.

"Walkers incoming!" Shane shouts.

Suddenly, my Dad and Glenn are whirling the other way, facing our new enemy. I grab onto the back of Dad's belt, and when I peer out between their elbows, I see one, two, six, twelve dead bodies lumbering to their feet, all dressed in military green, and dented helmets, and layers and layers of crusty black blood and loose skin. The other kids start to cry, but not me. I can't cry, 'cause I can't breathe. I hear a slicing fwip, and then one of the dead soldiers drop to the ground like the only thing holding him up were strings. An arrow marks his second deathbed.

"We can't fuckin' stay here, Rick!" My Dad's yelling. "You led us into a death-trap!"

I'm grabbing onto the back of Glenn's shirt, now, 'cause my Dad's stomping off to confront Rick and Shane. I hide my nose in my knuckles. Death-trap, I'm panicking, Death-trap. A week ago, I'd be standing here alone, but I got Glenn now. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I got Glenn.

"Glenn, I'm scared." I whine to him, and there it is, I'm crying. I think of happier things, like cherries and the sun.

"I— I know." Glenn puffs, 'cause he's scared, too. "I know."

He lets me grab his hand. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

"Death trap or not, we're here for a reason!" Dale's arguing. "Rick made a call! We all did!"

"You want us to phase through the fuckin' doors, old man?" Dad spits. "We're stuck out here! My daughter's stuck out here!"

"Running out of time here, guys!" Jacqui's worrying.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Are those gunshots, now? Bullets are last resorts. Last resorts are only for when you're gonna die. Are we gonna—?

"Are we gonna die, Glenn?"

"No." He hurries to answer, gripping me tighter. "N—No."

"We need to leave!" A woman — Carol? — cries.

"She's right." Lori. That's Lori. "This close to the city? It's too dangerous!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Fort Benning." Shane looks like he's 'bout ready to bolt, bouncin' from foot to foot. A trapped animal. "We can do it. It's still an option, Rick."

"Is it?" Glenn's shouting. "It's a hundred twenty-five miles away!"

"No fuel? Two sick kids?" Morales is shakin' his head, no, no, no. "It's impossible!"

What do we do? No, no, no. We can't leave, but no, no, no, we can't stay, neither.

"What do you wanna do, then?" Shane argues back. "What you wanna do?"

"That's it! We're done here!"

My Dad shuts the whole thing down with one angry shout, locking his hand around my wrist. He tugs me away, and for a moment, the group is tugging itself along behind us, back to the street and the cars. We're a unit again — in the wind, goin' anywhere; scared, flimsy. We take one step, and then two, and we make it all the way back to the grass, before—

"Wait!"

It's Rick.

He ain't budged. Brave or stupid? Is he nuts?

"The camera." He tells us, breathless. "It moved."

All three.

"You imagined it." Dale decides, 'cause he'll say anything to get Rick to move. "How could it have moved?"

It's a lost cause — a last-ditch attempt.

The arguing re-ignites. I hide myself again, 'cause I'd rather be anywhere else.

Rick's shouting that he saw it, he saw the camera move, and his voice hits the concrete and closes in on us, just like the field. Fwip. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each burst of noise is a ticking hand on a dyin' clock. The bodies are picking themselves up faster than we're dropping 'em. Glenn's got a knife out, now, and Shane's pleading with Rick, who's gone nuts, Man, listen, the place is gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Fwip. Bang. Crying; shrieking, from me, from the other kids, from Lori, and Jacqui, and the air as it's cut in half by bullet after bullet after bullet. Please, we have two sick kids out here, someone's begging.

"You're killing us!" Rick tells the camera. "You're killing us!"

My Dad fists the back of my shirt and he's pullin' me away, stronger than before. I think he's saying, Fuck it, we can make it on our own; leave the bastard. This must really be rock bottom. We were on our own for weeks. He must be thinking that we can do it again. I can see Glenn struggling to decide whether he should stay with the group or follow his feet, which are already trying to run after me and my Dad. I see Jacqui doin' it, too, and then Andrea, and then Carol.

A body topples over in our path, arrow up its nose. This is chaos.

Cherries and sunlight. Cherries and sunlight.

Then—

Behind us.

A gentle rumble, rumble.

We all whip around.

The doors — They're opening. They really are.

Even Rick looks like he can't believe it. We watch them open, mouths agape, like a bunch of idiots — A portal, to another world.

At first, we think there's a catch. Nothing comes without a catch. Do we go in?

But then there's another bang, and we're reminded that we're as good as dead if we stay out here any longer. We're on the move again, but this time, we're walking into the big, white mouth of the big, white monster, praying, Please don't be worse than it is out here, please don't make us regret this. We stay close together as the doors roll back down, sealing us in. We can breathe again, but only slightly. Would I rather take my chances with the dead soldiers, or with the unknown? I'm not sure. Now it's really happening, I don't think any of us are.

"Electricity." Jacqui whispers in cautious wonder. Electricity is like a myth.

Rick nods toward an archway. "Let's keep moving."

We trickle into the belly of the beast — Down a hallway, and into a lobby with the tallest damn ceiling I ever saw. Papers are thrown all over the floor and the computers at the reception desk are all upturned, but it's pin-drop silent. It's like being in a museum for an old extinction event.

"Hello?" Rick calls out, and if there's a scary creature in here, I sure hope it eats him first. "Who's in here? Who opened the doors?"

The silence answers.

"I did."

I jump outta my skin. Dad gets himself in front of me, but I peek around his waist. There's a man at the top of the stairs. He looks like he's been here for a long, long time. Like those lonely boys in Lord of the Flies, where they'd been on an island for so long that they started going a little crazy. He's wearing a regular t-shirt. I wonder where his lab coat is, if he's a scientist. This is a building for scientists.

"What did you mean by 'sick'?" The lonely-crazy-man calls down to us. "You said you had two sick kids. Is anybody infected?"

The whole group hardens at this question. They all glance back at me. I can see our journey in their eyes.

Rick's smiling, and this time, it looks right.

"You don't know the half of it." He turns back around, chin up, like always. "No. Nobody's infected. Thank God."

Dad puts a hand my shoulder.

The scientist doesn't share the same enthusiasm.

"I'm not sure He's around, anymore." He muses, vaguely sad. Then, "Why are you here? What do you want?"

I've never been good at words, but Rick is, 'cause he comes up with the perfect answer. One he knows we'd all agree on.

"A chance."

And maybe some water. After all we been through, that can't be too much to ask. We must look like a pathetic, begging mess, 'cause that's what we are. I know I am. My hair's made outta knots and grease, just like Lori and Andrea's. We're covered in beatings from the road, like bruises from Jim's fists and eyebags from sleepless nights. We left our quarry for this. We left our fish, and our tyre swing, and we left Jim. This can't be for nothing.

The man, who stands high above us, a judging eye, takes us in. "That's asking an awful lot, these days."

All Rick can say is, "I know," and pray it works.

I think of wet eyes, teeth, and spiders while we wait for his decision.

"You'll submit to a blood test." The scientist tells us. "That's the price of admission."

A breath leaves us all.

"We can—" Rick's nodding. "We can manage that."

That's it? A blood test?

I find myself grinning, and I tug on my Dad's hand. We look at each other. He's smiling, too, just a little. We all are. The scientist doesn't know it, but he's just saved our lives. We're tired and we're dirty and we've been through Hell these past couple days, but a blood test — We can manage that. We can manage anything.

"I left one door open. If you have stuff to bring in, do it now." He says, from his perch. "Once these doors shut, they don't open."

We tell him we understand.

This place is like a magical castle.

After we give up our blood, the scientist takes us on a tour.

Jacqui was right. We got electricity. But apparently, we also got hot water.

If electricity's a myth, then hot water is a damn hoax. I can't wait to have a shower tonight. I used to hate showers, but that's just one of them things now that I can't believe I ever hated, like spinach. I been so hungry before that I'd dream about spinach. Glenn and Lori groan like they've bitten into a big, juicy steak when they hear 'bout the showers, and we all laugh. When I ask him, the scientist says that he isn't wearing his lab coat because he only wears it to make himself look cool. He says that now that we're here, he'll have to put it back on. It makes me giggle.

I run ahead with the other kids, and we all reach a long line of doors, where the scientist says we'll be staying.

The tour is complete!

We all pick rooms to stay in and then we unpack, like we're in a hotel, and it's exciting. None of us have been to a hotel in years.

"Hey, Harley!" Sophia pops her head out the next room over, holding a bar of soap. "Look! Soap!"

I hold out mine. "I got one, too!"

Behind Sophia, Carl pops his head out. "Me too!"

And behind him, like two little owls, Eliza and Louis appear. "Us, too!"

We dash back into our rooms. Me and my Dad's room got two double beds, and I ain't never had a double bed before, so I climb on it, and I jump up and down to test it out. It don't even squeak or nothin'. Dad watches me from where he's emptying one of our back packs.

As I try touch the ceiling, I tell him, "This place is awesome!"

"Harley, come down from there 'fore you crack yer head open." He orders, like a party-pooper.

I do what he says, 'cause I don't wanna ruin the day by getting spanked. "I'm gonna have a real-life shower."

"That's right." He shakes out the yellow shirt with the dinosaurs on it. He chucks it at my head, smirking. "Get ready, then."

I grab the brush that Sophia's letting me use first and a pair of purple pyjama pants from my Dad. I take myself into the bathroom. At first, the water's like straight lava on my skin, and I yelp. Dad asks if I'm alright, and then he comes in to fix the water for me. The lava settles back down, and I scrub and wash and sud myself up until I'm almost as red as a lobster. It's the best shower I've ever had. I was getting so sick of using baby wipes and river water to wash myself. When I step out of the real-life shower, the whole room is steamed up. I draw a smiley face into the mirror just 'cause I can, and then I brush out all my hair. I smell like strawberries. I dress in my cozy pyjamas and socks.

When I come out, my Dad re-does my buttons, 'cause apparently I did 'em all wrong. I stand between his knees while he re-orders 'em.

"He said there's a games room here." I smile.

"Maybe you can scope it out after dinner." Dad says. "You gotta be hungry by now, right?"

"Oh, I forgot 'bout dinner!" There's just too many wonders to keep track of in this place! "We gotta hurry!"

My Dad loops the last button.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I nag, pulling him off the bed and out the door.

"Damn." He chuckles. "People are gonna start thinkin' I ain't feedin' you."

"I bet there's gonna be steak!"

This is the best day ever.

We reach the CDC's little cafeteria, which is in total darkness to save energy, except for a spotlight above the biggest table. Makes it feel even more special. I hear clinking forks and plates, and I think these are the two happiest days I've ever had. Me and Dad take seats next to Carol and Sophia. As potato salad — Yes, potato salad. That's almost as good as soap — and greens and meat get passed around, I'm reminded of our fish fry. My Dad is here with me to enjoy it this time, and there are walls to protect us, instead of trees. We're clean. We're safe. We're alive.

"Just tell me when." Carol tells T-Dog as she pours him some wine, while everyone is getting settled in at the table.

Carol pours for a long time and T-Dog does not say when.

People start laughing.

T-Dog gives in and goes, "Okay, when, when, when."

"Thought I was gonna be there all night." Carol scoff-chuckles, sitting back down.

When I look around, I see one big family having dinner together, and I see people I'd almost forgotten about under all that dirt.

"Hey, after the past few days we've had, I think we deserve it." Rick's smiling, holding up his hands.

"I'll say." Lori snickers.

Dale suddenly stands, glass in hand. "How about we dedicate this meal to Harley?"

Rick puts down his napkin. "I think that's a perfect idea."

I giggle under all the attention as everyone rushes to agree, finding their glasses. I hide my face behind my Dad's arm. He peels himself away, smirking, and everyone's got something to say about my red face when I'm no longer hidden. I smack Carl when he tells me I look like a tomato, and everyone's doubled over with laughter, again. It's my favorite sound ever, I decide.

Before we can toast, my Dad butts in.

"Hang on. Old man, how's about that watch you carry around?" He asks. "It got a date on it?"

"I wish," Dale smiles, "But the battery died yesterday. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"

"I reckon it's almost July, right?" Dad looks around.

Is he gonna say what I think he's gonna say?

I start grinning.

Rick nods, "I reckon so. It's probably been about a month since everything went down."

"Harley was born in July. Twenty-second. Eight years ago. Ain't that right?" Dad ruffles my hair, and I giggle, 'cause I'm just so full of happiness that I feel like I'll never be anything else again. He raises his glass; wraps a hand around my shoulders. "Close enough, am I right?"

"Absolutely, that's close enough!" Lori shouts, clapping her hands; rushing for her glass. "My God, this is perfect!"

"We got ourselves a birthday dinner, here, people!" T-Dog whoops, raising his, too.

Rick lifts his glass above his head, and it's official. "To the birthday girl!"

"To the birthday girl!"

Clink, clink, clink.

More cheering. Two toasts in one day. I must be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world. I bump my glass of water into Dad's glass on my right, and Sophia's on my left. After the scare with the scratches, this celebration means ten times more than a regular birthday would. There's no cake here, or number-candles, but I don't need any of that to make this moment special. I got Glenn singing an off-key Happy Birthday, and I got Jacqui giggling, God, shut that boy up, and I got Sophia hugging me, and I got another year and a whole lotta more days I get to live, with everyone at this table; with my Dad. And when Rick leans over the table, I even let him give me a high-five!

"Eight." Rick raises his eyebrows at me while he sits back down, pointing at me. "Almost double digits."

"You're almost my age!" Grins Carl.

"Good luck." Lori dramatically whispers to my Dad.

He gives me a look. "Listen to me, you ain't allowed to grow any more after this, okay?"

I can't help if I grow!

"Okay, Dad." I laugh. "I promise to be eight forever."

"Good girl." He says, gulping down more wine.

"Hold up." T-Dog sticks his palm out. "This is a birthday party. You know what that means, right? We need to hear at least one embarrassing story."

"Good idea." Jacqui gasps.

Dad makes a big show of scoffing. "Damn, which one you want? I got thousands."

What a traitor!

"I mean, we have all night, here." Shane shrugs, grinning like a little smart-ass. "I'm up for a story-time. How 'bout y'all?"

"Let's hear it," Morales gestures at my Dad.

"Alright." Dad sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. I try leaning over to cover his mouth, but he bats me away, and everyone is already laughing and the story ain't even started yet. "How 'bout— Okay. Okay. Damn, this is a good one. 'Bout when she was five, we bought Harley this skateboard—" Everybody's going, Oh God, 'cause they see where this is going. "Uh-huh. We took 'er down to the skatepark near our house, and there was a bunch of other lil' kids there — 'bout her age — and I'on know how she did it, but these kids were all convinced she was this master skater who was gonna show 'em how it's done. She was coachin' 'em, I think. Showin' off her new board. End of the day, she finally goes to show 'em a trick — 'Member, first day at this damn park — and everyone's watching and—" He claps his hands, smack. "Falls flat on 'er fuckin' face, in front of all of 'em."

Ugh, why'd he have to go and tell that story?

Rick covers his mouth 'cause he's trying not to laugh, 'cause I guess he values whatever dignity I got left but Shane, he's clappin' and trying not to spit his food out, 'cause he's actually a big smart-ass. I'm laughing behind my hands, like Sophia. Glenn's resting his forehead on the table, and he's shakin', so I guess he's laughing, too. When he sits upright, he's crying, and Jacqui's gotta beat his back 'cause he's choking a little bit.

"I'm alri—" He coughs. Then he keeps laughin', which makes it worse. "I'm alright."

"Hey, I ain't even fall that bad!" I defend myself.

He chugs Jacqui's water to save himself.

"Wait—" Lori's chuckling. "Five years old?"

"Yep," Dad goes back to eating. He's satisfied with the damage he's done.

"Pretty brave for that age." Lori tells me, putting on an I'm impressed face.

"Damn, that's pretty bad." T-Dog's shaking his head. "Sorry, girl, but I'm glad I asked, 'cause shit!"

"Leave the poor girl alone." Carol giggles, quietly.

Shane looks off into the darkness, pretending there's a crowd. "Anybody got a skateboard?"

"Oh, shut up." Andrea smiles. "Settle down, or Lori's gonna have to pull that photo out."

"May I ask a question?"

We're all so isolated in this pocket of happiness, celebrating the end of our troubles, that when the scientist speaks, I think we're all a little spooked. Smiles freeze and fade. Glasses lower. Heads turn. We're not the only people in the world, we're all realizing. We'd forgotten all about the reason we came here. That's what potato salad does to people, I guess.

The conversation dies off like a guillotine sliced it in half.

"What were you going to toast to?" The scientist asks, and his voice is like a soft, chilly breeze in a forest. I'm not even sure he was sitting there the whole time. Maybe he's supernatural, and he teleported. That makes me scared. "Before you figured out it was her birthday?"

And just like that, the dinner turns awkward.

Rick clears his throat. "Well, if I'm being completely honest, here, Harley is the reason we came out to the city in the first place. I know I told you that nobody here was infected, but there were a couple days where... we weren't sure. Harley got scratched. We left looking for a cure."

The scientist's eyes roam over to my face, but then they don't leave.

"Now we're on the subject," Shane decides to break the silence, frowning, "How about you tell us what exactly happened here, doc?"

Rick mutters, "We don't have to do this right now, Shane."

"Wait a second." Shane sighs. "You said it yourself, just now. This is why we came all the way out here, right? Figure out what happened? Put all our eggs in one basket, and uh—" He laughs a laugh that tells me nothing is funny here. "Instead we found him. We found one man, talking in riddles. Why is that, you think?"

The scientist tanks the insult. "When things got bad, people just... left, to be with their families. The rest bolted."

I remember just how shocked I was at the size of this building when I first saw it creeping up the windows. It's way too much space for one man. There must have been hundreds of scientists working in here, and now it's just a shell. A cave for a lonely monster.

"Every last one?" Shane whispers, squinting; disbelieving.

The scientist falters, for just a moment, and I can see old pains on his face. "No. Some couldn't face leaving. They... opted out."

The tables goes from quiet to silent. Opted out. I know what that means. It's another one of them things adults say to butter up the truth, and it means killing yourself. I squeak, then, like I've been kicked in the ribs. I hide behind my Dad, who cradles the back of my damp hair, but you can't hide from words once they're in your head. Suicide. Dead, but not an accident — On purpose, with pills, or a gun, or a— a— a bridge. Something snotty gets caught in my throat like a fish-hook, and I'm crying now, at my own birthday dinner. Somebody drops their fork in defeat.

"There was a rash of suicides." Mutters the scientist, immune to his own story; numb. "In a matter of days, I was alone."

"Why didn't you leave?" Asks Andrea.

Carl is crying too, now. I wish I could make him feel better, just for a moment, but I can't.

"I just kept working." Smiles the scientist, but it's not right— It's just muscles, pulling his droopy face upward. "I just wanted to do some good."

Good.

The word reaches up into the ceiling, and leaves us at the bottom, sitting in its echo.

"There is no cure here." The scientist says.

The dinner is over.

Everything comes crashing down as fast as it went flying up.

We were on top of the world just a few hours ago. We were invincible. We had the news that I wasn't going to die in our veins, and then we had hot water and soap and potato salad, and each other. We had hotel rooms and a birthday dinner. But now we just have a dead end and a long list of regrets. There is nothing here for us besides showers, lights, and ghosts. I feel like a trapped animal. I'm a hamster in a maze, going around and around and around, and I can't get out. A rash of suicides. That thing I thought was hiding somewhere, it's this, and it's out, and I'm sorry we ever looked. Please don't let it be worse than it is out here, I remember, Please don't make us regret this.

After what feels like hours, the hallways I'm running down end. I see the game room.

I run inside and corner myself under the table. A cloth hides me from the world outside, and if I pretend hard enough, I can take myself right out of here and into a nice, safe pillow fort, instead. Like the ones I used to make back home. I can be someone else. If I'm in my head, I'm not here.

But then I hear the door open, and it's just a wooden table again, and I'm in the CDC.

"Harley?" It's my Dad, 'cause of course it is. I moan into my hands, crying so hard I'm not getting enough air. "You in here?"

I don't want to be found. I want to be lost.

The cloth lifts.

"Baby, what's wrong?" My Dad asks, but I know he already knows. How could he not know?

There are lots of words that remind me of my Momma, like sunshine, and cigarettes, and the worst — Suicide.

"Get out." I tell him, using my feet to push him away. "Get out."

I should've learnt my lesson back at the quarry, on that night I hit my Dad, but I don't care. I just wanna hurt something. I'm hurting. A rash of suicides. I can't stop hearing it, and I can't stop seeing it — Over and over again, the night on the bridge. Opted out. Suicide. Killing yourself.

Pills, guns, ropes.

Bridges.

"Baby, I know." Dad's saying, grabbing my kicking feet. "I know. Come out. I don't want you thinkin' 'bout this, so come on out."

"I can't help it!" I sob, 'cause I really can't. Something that is too big for my body is happening to me, and I can't stop it.

"H— I know. Just come out." He's begging, and now he's not just holding my feet, he's pulling 'em; pulling me, out from underneath my hidey hole and into the world, even though I want to stay in here forever. He's trying so hard to bury something that's still alive; something that has teeth and jaws, and is eating me from the inside out. He don't wanna see it, and he don't wanna hear it, and he don't wanna deal with it. I wish he'd curl up in my make-believe pillow fort, and hide from the world with me. I wish he'd understand. "You don't gotta be under there. Come out, right now."

Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out.

He's getting angry again. He's holding himself back from something very nasty that lives inside him.

"No," I'm begging him back; begging him to just listen. "No, I don't wanna come out. I don't wanna—!"

I anchor myself to the table leg. We're an unstoppable force and an immovable object, colliding head on for the first time, ever, and it's a disaster. That night at the quarry was nothing.

Furious, my Dad rips the cloth off the table and boxes of puzzles go toppling over onto the floor, breaking into a million little pieces that used to be happily fused. Newly exposed, he easily ducks under and locks his hand around my wrist. I scream, and I close my eyes so I don't have to see my Daddy like this, 'cause it ain't him anymore. He pries my little fingers off the table, one by one by one, and ow, ow, ow, it really hurts. I'm yanked away, and then he's dragging me out by the ankles, shouting—

"Stop actin' like this. You ain't a baby." I hook myself onto a second leg, and he's wrestling with me all over again. "Stop! Mind yer damn father, girl!"

I'm not a baby, but I wish I was, 'cause we were happy back then.

"Stop!" I sob, kicking at him. "J— Leav— Just leave me alone!"

"I ain't leavin' you alone — You know why?" He's seething down to me. "'Cause you need a damn spanking. That's why."

I think back to an hour ago, when I thought I'd only ever be happy for the rest of my life. What a stupid thing to think.

Don't make it any worse, his voice is warning me, from all the times he's done this before.

But it can't get any worse.

In one big pull of strength, I'm forced out from underneath the table once and for all, where I felt safe and small and alone, into the light of the game room where I feel naked, again, for all to see. My face is raw and wet and hurt, and I think one of my buttons got torn off by my Daddy when he was grabbing for me, even though he was the one to fix them before dinner, and on that night in the RV, to show me he loves me. He yanks me to my feet by the armpits, 'cause I can't stand on my own no more, and he crouches to get in my face.

"This is your last fuckin' chance, and then I'm gonna have to take my belt off." He warns me.

"I miss Momma." I whimper.

His face softens, but it's gone so quick I'm sure I imagined it. "Harley," He grinds out, "Stop this."

"You killed her!" I cry, scared, but braver than I ever been at the same time. "You made Momma kill 'erself! You made 'er jump off that bridge!"

I tried so hard to be like my Daddy, but I can't. I can't hide things like he can.

I don't care if he belts me after. I just want him to know. I want him to know that I know, and that I ain't never gonna forgive him. I'd take a thousand beatings just so I could scream the same thing up at him, until my throat bleeds, until I'm nothin' but a voice, until my Momma comes back. People who kill themselves don't wanna come back, but maybe this time, if I was a good enough girl, she might want to. I'd get on my knees, and I'd beg her, and I'd say, Please Momma, I need you. Please Momma, please. Me and Daddy can't do it on our own. She didn't love my Daddy, and my Daddy hated my Momma. He never said it, but I always knew he did. I saw it when he dropped me off at her house; how he didn't wanna leave me with her. I heard people say my Momma was sick in the brain, and that she was a bad Mom, but I loved her.

My parents might be forever separated, but on my face, they are still together. I got my Daddy's flat mouth and my Momma's green eyes. I am proof that hate can create love. I don't feel so loved right now, though. I feel like I'm nothing. I feel like when my Daddy said he loved me, he was lying.

And there it is, my Daddy's hand going for his belt, 'cause I chose to say the worst thing I could think of.

I don't wanna get beat, but sometimes it don't matter what little girls want.

"I want you to think about the way you're speakin' to me." My Dad, the same one that was crying in my baby photo, shouts in my face. "I don't know why you gotta be like this, Harley. I don't know why you gotta make me do this. You were havin' such a good day."

"I'm sorry—" I'm sayin' now. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You shoulda thought about that before you started bringing this shit back up again. After this, never again, okay?"

He pulls me down into his chest, yanking the back of my shirt up to the base of my neck. I wait for the whip, and the burning sting afterwards.

I can take it. I'll just close my eyes and wait for it to be over.

But before it can come—

"Woah! Hey!" A man's shout. "Hey, hey! Stop!"

The whip doesn't come. I can catch my breath.

Under my Dad's arm, the one that's in the air, poised to beat me, I see a man in the doorway. I almost can't make him out, but there he is — It's officer Shane. The room seems to slap him in the face, like he can't believe what he's just walked into. He's scared to step inside, in case the moment breaks and my Dad chooses to beat me, anyway. Shane's a bastard cop, and it's his job to save people. I never thought I'd be needing saved from my Dad. I still don't think I need saving. I brought this on myself. I wish he'd go away, so it could be over with.

My Dad stands up, his whole body clenched with muscle ready to punch.

"I'm gonna ask you put that down, man." This is the first time I'm hearing Shane's police-man voice. "And to step away from her, okay?"

I feel embarrassed.

I'm kneeling on the floor, grabbing onto the side of the sofa, tryna hide myself again. I don't belong here. I don't want Shane to see me like this. I wanna be the little girl he caught frogs with, not a ball of hurt and tears. Suddenly, this isn't a games room anymore. It's a wolf's den, and I got two of 'em right in front of me, circling each other, ready to bite. I scuttle further into the corner, like if I shrink myself enough, I can just disappear into the floor.

"You ain't askin' me shit, officer." Dad whispers, real nasty. "Ain't no rules, no more. Not so tough, now."

"I'm not gonna ask you again, man." Officer Shane warns, stepping very slowly into room.

He moves toward us, inch by inch, like a man inside a lion enclosure.

"You don't gotta." Dad spits. "Door's right there."

"You're hittin' on little girls, now, Daryl." Shane huffs that mean laugh again. "Sorry, buddy, but that's my business. Come on. Step away."

If Shane had his gun in his holster, his hand would be on it. But we left all our weapons in the bedrooms before dinner. He stretches his fingers; tilts his head. I realize he don't need a gun. He's gonna fist-fight my Dad if he don't do what he says. My Dad, sensing this, chucks his belt on top of the broken puzzles, and stretches out his fingers, too. They're one wrong word away from beating each other to a pulp.

I wanna beg 'em to stop, but my voice is burrowed somewhere deep inside my body, and I can't reach it.

"We don't have to do this, Daryl." Shane's half-way into the room, now. When did he get that close?

"Sure we don't." Dad snarls. "You gonna hit me? Go ahead."

Shane shakes his head. "That's not somethin' I wanna do, man. But you know I will. Step away."

A hiccup I didn't give permission to leave my mouth cuts through the room. Shane glances at me. I don't know who I'm supposed to root for.

"'Step away', huh? Step away from my own daughter?" My Dad scoffs.

Shane glances from me to my Dad, and I can see him start to realize that this angle won't work on my Dad. He holds out his hand. Something about the way he's looking at me is saying, You don't have to be afraid, but I am, and I don't wanna move. I feel like this is my fault. I watch as he flicks his fingers a little, brows raised. "How 'boutchu come over here, Harley, huh?"

Dad blocks me with his body before I can even think about it. "Hey, don't you fuckin' speak to her."

His eyes are back on my Dad. "Just tryna do what's best for everybody, here, Daryl."

My Dad cracks one of his knuckles. "Nah. Nah, I don't think you are. You got it all twisted."

"Don't think I do."

"Yeah?" Dad goads, and every second, I wait for one of them to swing. I can't stand it. "What is it you think you walked in on, then, huh?"

I think my Dad's waiting for the swing, too, 'cause he's so confident that he'll win that he wants officer Shane to try him. He wants to punish him. He wants to show him what happens when you insult a Dixon, 'cause protecting the name is more important than protecting his own body. I think about the way my Dad busted Rick's cheek; How Ronnie's Momma ain't recognise him when my Daddy was done with him.

Shane must be thinkin' the exact same thing, 'cause he starts goading my Dad right back.

"I think I walked in on you beatin' the shit outta your own kid, first of all." Shane shrugs, like it ain't his fault it's fact, and he keeps going when he notices my Dad's breathing get heavy. He's enjoying this. A smile splits his face. "I think we been worrying 'bout Jim this whole time, we been worrying 'bout the wrong man. How 'bout that? You wanted us to be so focused on him, we forget about the real monster."

"That right?" Dad side-steps Shane when he reaches the edge of the coffee-table.

"Sounds right to me, man." Shane says. "Lemme ask you this, Daryl. What is it you think I walked in on?"

I wonder where everyone else is. I wonder if at any second, one of them is gonna walk in.

"It don't matter what I think." Dad shouts, suddenly, and I shriek like I've been struck by the belt. "It's my damn business. It's my damn daughter."

"Yeah, I betchu wish it was." Shane huffs out a chuckle. "Don't want your secret gettin' out, right?"

Shane's like a wriggly little worm, needling my Dad where he don't wanna be needled.

My Dad's patience finally runs out.

He rears back to swing at Shane's head, and his fist is caught and twisted, and I hear Shane grunt in pain, and this is it, so I close my eyes—

Wait.

My eyes are open. That don't make no sense. Why is it so dark? Why can't I see?

I realize that the fight has stopped, and I feel like we've all forgotten about it and are waiting for something to happen.

There's a single murmur throughout the room.

"Was that the power?"

Author's Note.

Cliff-hanger! Mwahahha.

So, obviously, the last scene in this chapter is pretty brutal. I'd like to share why I made the decision to have Daryl act this way, because it could be a shock for some.

For starters, I think it's plausible for a number of reasons. Merle being a bad influence on Daryl, his unhealed childhood trauma and how that affects how he parents his child, and his unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions, etc.

It's not pretty, I know, and I kind of hated writing that scene, but that brings up my second point. For the sake of the themes and arcs I want to give this story, it was necessary. This story just couldn't exist if it didn't have this scene. I've got, like, three different key subplots linked to it. Maybe you can even guess what they are, because two of them have been hinted at/set up already. They're only going to get more prominent from here on out.

So that's the explanation for anybody who wanted or needed it. You'll see all this play out in the coming chapters, anyway, but I just wanted to provide this in the mean time. :)

Rant over! Phew. Everybody take a sigh of relief.

On a more positive note, everything else in this chapter was a total joy to write! These poor guys deserve some happiness 😌

Hope you enjoyed reading, and as always, please consider sharing your thoughts! Sending love :)

#child abuse #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daddy issues #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #parent daryl dixon #rick grimes #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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daubigny-stan · 10 months

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Best Stardew Valley marriage candidates according to their story arcs

(warning: objective but also my opinion)

So what do I mean by according to their story arcs?

Stardew Valley's NPCs are very well written, with well defined personalities and goals. Here I will be judging if it would be right to marry them according to their goals. Basically, if your farmer married them, would they be fulfilled? Would they be okay with settling in Stardew Valley? Would they like being at a farm?

Note that I am not judging them by how nice or pleasant it would be to marry them, just based on would it be right to marry them.

Yes, get on your knee and pop the question already!

Leah

Now I might be biased because she's my favorite, but she's also the one that makes the most sense. She came to Stardew for the same reasons your farmer did, to escape to rat race and the non-stop grind of city life. She moved there on her own terms and it's shown that she actually enjoys living there. Since she's one of the only NPCs who likes foragable items, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that she would enjoy farming as well. Your beautiful farm could also serve as inspiration for her art. And hey as a bonus, she won't be a starving artist anymore.

Elliot, Harvey

I'm putting these two in the same spot for the same sort of reasons. Their occupations/hobbies don't necessarily tie into nature as well as Leah's does, but I they're up here this high because I think they need partnership. Both of them are canonically a bit older and they live alone. Most of the time, cooped up in their houses. Their jobs have a risk of self isolation, especially Elliot's. And again much like Leah, they came to Stardew because they wanted to. Elliot for what we can assume are similar reasons, Harvey because he just be happened to be posted there (and Stardew needs a doctor).

Penny

Penny is up here because I see her as the traditional sort. Like, I think she would actively try to get hitched. But I don't think she would be comfortable living far away from Stardew. Penny's job teaching the kids shows that she has a lot of love for the valley and its people, she wants to make it a better place. Why not get married to the farmer, who also has an interest in boosting the valley's economy? The reason I'm putting her a bit lower is her relationship with Pam. They do love each other, but they don't have the healthiest relationship. I think Penny should know more about the world rather than using marriage to further herself from her troubled home. There's some potential to have this unbalanced relationship with the farmer as well. Moreover, she also never goes to the bar, maybe because she detests drinking, but maybe because she also isn't old enough.

Ehh? Maybe?

Shane, Hayley

In contrast, Shane and Hayley are in the same spot for different reasons. Shane would probably enjoy being married to the farmer because he himself enjoys farming. You could definitely see him help raise your chickens and ducks. But because of how his story panned out and how he is after getting married (his room is still full of beer cans), I don't know if marriage is the healthiest option for him? I think staying with his family for a bit would be better but when he's a bit more self assured, he could be marriage material down the line.

As for Hayley, I think the marriage part is ok. She starts off immature and getting close to you and being married helps her grow as a person. She tries to help out with the farm and she ends up also contributing to the valley. But I don't know if she should stay in the valley? I think it would be good for her to gain more worldly experience, again like Penny she's never in the Saloon, indicating that she might be a bit young.

Alex, Sam

These two are in the same position, in the middle because I don't really know how to feel about them? In terms of age, I think they're both ok, they are known to enter the Saloon. But they act so young, Alex and Sam come across as highschool boys; Alex being the jock and Sam being the skater. These two guys need a bit of soul searching I guess, maybe marriage is the answer to that, maybe not.

Abigail

Abigail is also someone who needs a bit of soul searching. She has a bit more of a clear path compared to Alex and Sam, she shows potential in magic and adventuring/combat. That can be done in Stardew, in fact it can be enhanced by being with the farmer, but I think her biggest obstacle is her family. The girl should move out, out of Stardew. Caroline is an ok mom, but too traditional. Pierre is a downright sexist father. Their traditional expectations for Abigail (finishing school and helping around the house) are holding her back. I don't think her final goal in life is settling in the valley, I see her as a wandering adventurer.

I don't feel right marrying them

Emily

I think Emily is also someone who has potential and staying in the valley is holding her back. I see her as suffering from eldest daughter syndrome, having to take care of her family and home because her parents put all of the responsibility on to her. She does seem happy and cheerful but if you ask her about her job at the saloon, she'll say "well at least it'll pay the bills." In a way, she's the opposite of Leah, where Leah is a city slicker wanting to live the slow life, Emily deserves more than this provincial life. She should be an up and coming designer in Zuzu or something.

Sebastian

Sebastian is similar to Emily, except he is much more explicit with it. Sebby straight up wants to move out to the city. As a tech guy, I think it's important if not necessary for him to hone his skills by attending school or getting a tech job. With his motorcycle I also see him as someone who doesn't want to stay in one place, let alone settle down. I've consistently gotten to 8 hearts with Sebby but I would just feel bad marrying him.

Maru

Look, I like Maru. She's the only BIPOC character, she's sweet, she's smart. But man do I feel bad marrying her! Someone like her should be studying at Yale, not cooped up in some little valley. I have to admit, Demetrius is kinda right. Maru doesn't need marriage, she should pursue a PhD. It doesn't help that she's pretty young, again, one of the NPCs who never go into the saloon. I think marrying the farmer will actively hinder her goals

#stardew valley #sdv #long post #sdv headcanon

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doodling-junebug · 2 years

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misc. shane headcanons

(some of these feed into my fanfic lol)

under the cut because this is a loooong list

his nose is aquiline and flat with a slight turn up at the tip, and it’s been broken a LOT/not properly set from his gridball days so it’s kinda fucked up (it’s okay we love fucked up/big/prominent noses in this house i simp for them SOOOO bad)

he’s surprisingly good with kids? he’s happy to go along with all of jas’ shenanigans

his depression manifests as a lack of regard for himself, so while he drinks as a (very bad) coping mechanism it’s alcohol abuse and not an alcohol dependence. (nothing wrong with struggling with addiction, this is just how i read him)

look at him. he has anxiety. that manifests as a hyperawareness of appearance and a borderline obsession with being clean. are his clothes incredibly worn and ragged and stained? yes. is he smelly? absolutely not. incredibly self aware and obsessive with hygiene. it makes him anxious if he’s not because he feels like he’s drawing more attention to himself and he wants to be left alone

his depression is kind of like… a low functioning presentation (if that makes sense?) instead of overcompensating he tends to under compensate; he can’t find a reason to do anything other than the bare minimum and stick to his routine. it’s easier to not put in the effort to do well. you’ll feel like shit if you try and don’t succeed, but if you don’t try and don’t succeed/do the bare minimum you know what to expect and it’s easier to prepare for it.

(by contrast, june overcompensates. do all that you can to keep up the appearance of a competent, well adjusted individual because you’re so afraid of failing and that once you show your weaknesses/you fail you’ll be discarded immediately because you’re “broken” they have intense anxiety and try not to get close on a deeper level, everything is superficial. has to be liked by everyone and feel dependable. please send them to therapy)

shane does care what people think but can’t trust anyone enough to get close to because he’s scared of being hurt

in a lighter note, i think that once he opens up, he’s confused by kindness/affection. you want to hang out with him? him?? have you lost your mind??? but once he gets used to it he’s super affectionate and can be a bit clingy, because it’s new and exciting and it’s such a weird but nice feeling

he’s shown in canon (note the height difference between him and the other bachelor’s sprites during the flower dance) to be shorter than the other bachelors, but i think he’s 5’6”. i just know it in my bones

another thing i know in my bones is: he’s chubby, he’s got a tummy but he’s really strong too. idk if any of y’all worked on farms/grew up in a small community that has a lot of farmers/agricultural ties but you cannot tell me he’s got noodle arms. have you ever had to haul a hay bale? i haven’t but i can tell you they’re fucking heavy. shane chops wood and hauls feed bags and hay bales so while he’s chubby he’s also strong

his ideal future like to run a chicken sanctuary. i think he’d like it he’s a little weirdo like that

also he’s not… vegetarian, but eating meat is a bit weird for him. on one hand, in a small community like pelican town you know any animal used for food is given a lot of care and you know they’re treated well (i can verify this as someone who grew up in a small agricultural town; my dad used to keep animals for slaughter as a kid and i have friends who do as well and they treat their animals SUPER well, you can verify exactly how they’re treated and their quality of life) but it still makes him kinda sad. he’ll eat it, yeah, but he tries to avoid it to the best of his ability; especially with chicken. it makes him sad to think about eating a feathery friend

when shane is in a better headspace, he just avoids all alcohol. he worries a lot about getting “bad” again and avoids any and all triggers. can he drink without abusing it? yes, but it’s incredibly difficult. it just makes him anxious and the thought of relapse is terrifying

he relapses a handful times because as someone who’s been in recovery (ED recovery, but it’s a similar struggling with urges + intrusive thoughts and etc.) it is hard and never fucking linear. you have dips and jumps and plummeting lows and etc so it’s easy to get back into bad habits, especially when it’s what you know and are used to

when he does relapse it’s incredibly fucking easy for him to because his tolerance is abysmally small. just a few beers gets him plastered

he loves shitty and bad jokes. they’re funny and kinda dad jokes. ones that make you groan and you’ll never admit that secretly they make you happy because they’re so bad they’re good

#stardew valley #shane sdv #sdv #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #shane stardew valley #shane stardew #stardew shane #stardew shane headcanons #more to come whenever i feel like it #juno writes #i will love you like falling stars

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daisychainable · 1 year

Text

Shane's High Score

Fix it fic for Shane's 14 heart event! You shouldn't have to stalk your husband!

“You should talk to him.”

Peony blinked. And blinked again. Her hands tightened around the teacup in her hands, the drink still warm. “Excuse me?”

Marnie fidgeted in her chair but maintained eye contact. Her tea sat untouched on the table. They didn’t even get to the normal pleasantries, like ‘how is it going’ or ‘lovely day outside’. No, Marnie continued straight on to, “I know it may be hard to hear, but it seems like Shane is drinking at the saloon again.”

Peony fixed a polite smile onto her face. “Shane has been playing Journey of the Prairie King in the arcade. Abigail beat his score last week.”

“Is he though?” Marnie’s hands fluttered about as she spoke, waving away any arguments like flies.. “Have you gone with him?”

The tea was honestly nice. Chamomile, from Caroline. Peony wondered how her morning was going. The silence hung heavy in the air as Peony finished her cup. “Marnie.”

Marnie stilled. “Yes?”

“Have you talked to Shane?”

“Not yet, but-”

“Have you seen him inside the bar?”

Marnie straightened as she regained some ground. “Yes. He’s there a lot longer than I am. Gus says he’s there until closing time!”

Peony’s eyes crinkled. “Where is he in the bar, Marnie?”

Marnie shook her head. “In the arcade, but with temptation so close, do you really think he’s just staying in the arcade all night? Even if it is just video games, it can’t be good for him to-”

The teacup clinked loudly against the platter. The polite smile was gone. Marnie’s eyes were wide. Peony said in a low voice, “Marnie. I trust Shane. Why don’t you?”

A moment of silence. Marnie opened her mouth, then closed it again. After it was clear she wouldn’t answer, Peony reached across the table and took her cold tea. “Thank you for coming over, Marnie. I’ll see you in the shop sometime.”

As she took the dishes into the kitchen, Peony heard the quiet click of the front door, and she let out all the air she had been holding in. She pinched her fingers to the bridge of her nose and counted to ten. The day had been going so well up until this point, but at least in the late afternoon she didn’t have to worry about doing her chores angry.

The small cuckoo clock ticked away to the next hour. It was a wedding present from Robin. At five o’clock, the little chicken inside popped out and clucked five times. It was a small thing, but it was enough to break a few of the storm clouds above Peony’s head. She shrugged on a light pink jacket and headed outside.

Pelican Town was gorgeous in the fall. The colors took her breath away during her first year, the buttery gold yellow leaves almost too bright compared to the dull grays and brown of the city. Jas had shown her where to find the prettiest purple trees in the forest, and the look on Shane’s face was so openly fond when they came back with arms full of leaves. The clouds above Peony’s head broke completely, and she shook her head with a laugh.

The saloon was only half full today. Peony waved to Gus, who was doing a pretty good job pretending to be busy. “Another bustling Monday?”

Gus chuckled. “As full as ever. Got any mayo for me today?”

Peony shoved her hands in her empty pockets. “Ah, it seems I forgot. Maybe a free coffee would jog my memory for tomorrow?”

Gus shook his head. “Shameless. I’m being extorted in my own bar.”

Peony jerked a thumb towards the arcade. “Same as usual?”

Gus nodded. “He got close a couple times, but I don’t think it’ll happen tonight. Make sure he leaves at a decent time, will you? I’m hoping to close up a little early to catch The Bake Off tonight.”

Peony gave him a two-finger salute and slipped into the hall. The sounds of The Prairie King drifted into the room, and it sounded like her husband was making some good progress. In the dimly lit room, the neon sign cast bright purple highlights on Shane’s tousled hair and focused expression. His practiced hands tapped away diligently as waves of enemies swarmed the little cowboy avatar. Peony hovered a couple feet away and watched over his shoulder.

“The little spike guys are piling up,” Peony chimed.

Shane hummed. “It’s fine, the time's almost up.”

There was still quite a bit of time left, but Shane’s eyes were fever-bright with anticipation as more of the men swarmed him. Peony leaned against the cabinet. “If only you had some sweet power ups to get you out of the corner,” she said.

Shane shook his head, a few strands of hair falling in his eyes. “Nah, it’s fine. I need that power up later.”

Later would not be coming as they both watched one of the spiked enemies pop down a trap right in front of his character. Shane groaned as the little cowboy blipped out of existence and the score screen flashed, Abigail’s high numbers dominating the top of the list. “Damn it, I was so close!”

Peony didn’t think he was too disappointed. His smile was too wide, too contagious. “You think there’s any cheats out there for old-school arcade machines?”

Shane huffed and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. “There are, but Abigail isn’t using them. I’m gonna beat her fair and square.”

Peony pulled a quarter out of her pocket. “Mind if I join in?”

Shane’s bright eyes met hers with so much warmth it almost knocked Peony over. His smile was absolutely giddy. “Sure thing, player two.”

The quarters clunked heavily in the machine, and their little cowboys ran around each other briefly before setting to work. There was a moment of nothing except for the sound of pixel bullets before Shane spoke again. “Did something happen today? Normally you’d be slapping together pumpkin recipes this late.”

Peony rushed in to take care of the spiked enemies while Shane gathered power ups. “Marnie swung by today to chat.”

The enemies gathered around on all sides to corner them. A coffee power up blinked in close by, and Shane made a grab for it to squeeze out of a tight space. “That sounds nice. What did she say?”

A soldier popped in right by Peony’s little cowboy. She had gotten a little too close to the wall. “She thought you were drinking again.”

Shane stilled for a moment, his fingers pressed down on a button but not releasing it. His cowboy shot aimlessly for a moment before he gathered himself again. “But I’m not.”

Peony nodded, covering for him while he scooped up some coins. “No. You’re not.”

The level cleared, and the shopkeep drifted in with their wares. Shane’s hand gripped the joystick and hovered on the side of the cabinet. His eyebrows creased, and all Peony wanted was to smooth it away. “But what if one day I did? Just, caved in and drank and sat in the corner of the saloon again?”

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers. His shoulders hunched. Peony covered his hand with hers. They were both sweaty, but neither of them minded at that moment. “Then you would come home. I would ask if you were okay. We would take a shower, or watch that sci-fi comedy where neither of us have to think too much. The next day, we would call the therapist and make an appointment.” Peony slipped her fingers between his, and Shane gripped them back. “We can sit and be sad together. We can get back up and play games together and struggle to name the newest chicken together. Whatever happens, we’re gonna get through it together.”

Shane didn’t say anything, but a soft smile now graced his face. He looked at her with all the love he had in his eyes, and Peony knew hers looked the same. Then he looked at their score, and huffed. “We can’t beat Abby’s score together though.”

“Oh God no, Abby’s an absolute menace.”

#stardew shane #sdv shane #sdv farmer #stardew valley #writeblr

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

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The first Christmas “without,” Pt. 1

Hey now, traditionally Christmas was still celebrated until Candlemas, which is February 2nd. Just doing my part to keep the season bright with my lateness!

When - 35ish minutes after A fu---n’ great Christmas. It takes place in between season 2 and 3. That means heck yes, we’re doing a time skip after souls stripped bare

What - the first major holiday without loved ones is hard. The first major holiday without loved ones because one of your loved ones was killed by another loved one is somewhat harder. (for those who are newer Slowpokes, Shane was your older brother. Remember, he was at most your half-brother by blood. Imagine yourself as you are!)

**Note that some plot points haven’t actually been published yet, they are merely discussed or alluded to because the series is non linear**

Relationships - slow burn Daryl x Reader always, but this chapter’s Part 1 is focused on the found-family aspect of the TWD, specifically platonic Glenn x Reader. Part 2 will be focused on familial Rick x Reader. You’re still snuggled in the mangy hick’s poncho and wishing he didn’t smell so good, though

Perspective - 2nd person You

Pronouns? - ain’t even needed, y’all, but in Part 2 they/them

TWs? - discussion of respiratory percussion, some foul language, crying, discussion of grieving, and you and Glenn being nerds and quoting LOTR.

Word count - normal, but if you wait for Part 2 (arriving tomorrow), set aside some downtime and get comfy and snuggly in something cozy, dare I say a poncho, perhaps?

What stories to read or reread - “All of them!” the author cackles A fu--in’ great Christmas, The Chicken Swim, Too much thinking before bed, Part 2 and Ain’t nothin... are the ones most pertinent to this chapter.

Check out the Masterlist if you’d like to read all about your Slowpoke self :)

35ish minutes later

Glenn calls out “Time!” and promptly hoists Hershel back up and onto the bench. He starts smacking the pillow the way you’d just been smacking the poor man’s back, then places it behind Hershel so he can relax. “There we go.”

“Thank you, son,” he coughs out. You’re worried that him getting the night off last night in honor of Christmas Eve was the wrong choice, but that’s by the by.

And it should be noted that postural positioning with gentle respiratory percussion isn’t quite ‘smacking’ in the usual sense of the word and isn’t violent in the least, but you still sort of want to cry every time you do it to him.

The last position requires Mr. Greene to angle face-downward with his hips above his lungs; it’s that position that gets people emotional sometimes because y’all achieve this by his laying belly-down with his hips on a couch while the forearms brace against the floor. But you use pillows, and Glenn or T-Dog or Lori or Maggie or Beth or Carol or Rick or you tend to brace him, too.

Still, it simply feels a little cruel to see a man of his age maintaining such a position, even with support — especially when the whole point is to help him cough, therefore, he ends up coughing a lot.

He’s fully on board, though, you aren’t being a bully, Glenn.

In fact, perhaps 10 minutes after you and Daryl settled by the fire following you gifting him the nicotine gum and pickles (those gifts sound so weird when you say them out loud, don’t they?), Hershel had made a particularly wet cough. You, of course, straightened up and turned your head like a ’lil prarie dog and watched as he raised his eyebrows as if considering something.

Then, he gestured to the little water department building and said directly to you: “Shall we?”

It was so scary how sick he’d gotten and how quickly he’d become so a few weeks back, good Moses. All you’d wanted for Christmas had been an expectorant (and that elusive peak-flow meter) because you’d been convinced Hershel was gonna develop pneumonia and slowly suffocate to death. There weren't that many nebulizer doses in the tinfoil packet you and Glenn found a few weeks back, so while it was amazing that you could offer Hershel treatment with a nebulizer (by plugging it into the jack of the crank radio and having someone crank away to power it up), it wasn't enough and wasn't the right medicine to thin and expel the mucus from his lungs. What it did was open up his airways via mild steroids.

Not two hours ago, you were gifted with four boxes of the stuff, plus one, beautiful, unopened peak-flow meter that your sweet Carl had found because this year, he wanted to be Santa. That little punk surprised everyone.

The treatments y’all were able to give Mr. Greene before did help a lot, but that medicine is 100% how he’s improved so fast and so much since yesterday.

Daryl was spot on when he said it was a fuckin’ great Christmas.

Anyway, Hershel found the fact that most of you got so up-in-arms and oft times emotional about the positioning and percussion somewhat amusing. Quote: “You’d think I truly was a small child, the way you’re all coddling me after a simple pulmonary treatment.”

He said all that while darn near hacking up a lung following his second day of the regimen a couple of weeks ago.

Okey dokey, all that’s left of the regimen for now is the deep breathing, and the last set will be done closer to bedtime.

“We are blessed to have found a place like this —” Mr. Greene cuts off to cough several more times. “It may be smaller than that lovely house we had for the past two weeks, of course, but this feels much safer, in my opinion —” He cuts off with more coughing, but you can hear how much mucus is getting kicked out, it’s great!

Good Moses, the things you get excited about now that you’re taking on the group’s medic role to a more official extent.

“It’s small, but yeah, we could camp out for a while here,” Glenn hopes.

“The water from the reservoir seems clean enough,” Lori agrees, adding honey to the mug of tea she’s heating up on top of the woodstove. She chuckles to herself and mumbles, “We’re living on waterfront property now.”

Cool story about the tea: Glenn found the exact same tea that his family swore by for lung issues at this crunchy, holistic type of hole-in-the-wall market tucked away in a corner plaza in the middle of nowhere in between Clermont, Cleveland, and Dahlonega. It had this cool ingredient(s?) you’d never heard of called pyungang—no, pyung…tang…shoot, you don’t remember. And Glenn had pronounced it so nicely.

Hershel now swears by it. He’s big into naturopathic stuff, too, very pro-elderberry (if only it wasn’t December, you’d hunt some down for him). He was pleased to discover that you had a few of those plant books. ‘Backyard Medicine’ was on his bookshelf back at the farm, turns out.

“I’ve just psyched they’ve got a woodstove here, guys, like, that’s insane! The chimney is so tiny, we can keep the fire going all day and night,” Glenn goes on. “No more building a campfire and hoping it’s not wet outside. No toilet here, granted, but…”

Mr. Greene chuckles. “But there is toilet paper. We’ll have to get started on a good, old-fashioned hole. The ground hasn’t yet froze.”

You groan.

“Here you go, Hershel.” Lori carefully walks over holding the mug of steaming tea handle-side out, using the ends of her scarf as oven mitts.

“Wanna do your deep breathing exercises now while that cools down, Mr. Greene, or later?” you question.

Uh-oh.

Glenn is doing his jaw clench.

“He needs a break, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you apologize. You know you tend to go big or go home when it comes to medical stuff, and you’re working on toning things down. He does seem a little off today, but Glenn is your strongest ally in terms of reminding you, but one time, okay, this is gonna sound stupid, but he name-called you “Nurse Ratched” one of the first times you two had a genuine argument about Hershel’s treatment and it was such a slap in the face to the extent that you’d accidentally blurted out “fuck you!” in your shock and had a solid two days of being convinced that everybody secretly hated you because you must’ve been a cruel, nasty person, anyway that’s the story of your first real fight with Glenn.

So, you defend your question as delicately as you can when you start to reexplain how “All them pulmonary exercises build on one other —”

“— So wouldn’t it be better to wait a few hours so he’s better able to do them?”

Lori places her hand on your elbow and softly voices to the two of you, “It’s up to Hershel.”

“Seems Lori is still the only one in here with sense,” the man himself grumbles.

Neither you nor your best friend heed any of that.

“After a few hours, a whole ’nother set of all the exercises would need doing, Glenn.”

“Y/N, you’re going too hard on him,” he warns, “that could make him worse.”

“Might could make him tired, sure, but I’m not goin’ too hard — he would speak up if I were. And he had the night off yesterday!”

“Coughing too much can break someone’s ribs, man, he’s old! Too much exertion could, like, give him a heart attack!” He quickly adds, “No offense, Hershel!”

“He ain’t that decrepit yet, Glenn!” You quickly add, “No offense, Mr. Greene!”

“If I, the old but not-quite-yet decrepit patient as well as individual with the most medical training here, may interrupt,” the old but not-that-decrepit-yet Hershel who has the-most-medical-training-here begins with a serious, firm frown at the two of you, “I would like to use my lungs as much —” ohp, and he’s coughing again.

Lori rubs his back while you and your friend wait like two schoolkids outside the principal’s office.

“Pardon, excuse me.” He clears his throat and continues where he left off. “I would like to use my lungs as much as possible right now, because,” he pauses to look at Glenn in particular, “I don’t know how long until the turkey Y/N and Daryl bought home will be safe to eat, but I do know I intend to enjoy a very large helping or two of it without worrying about a coughing fit emptying the contents of my stomach.”

Oh poop, now you’re welling up.

That happened a few weeks back when you’d first begun the regimen with Hershel. Lesson learned: lung drainage and smacky-smacks should take place either before a meal or well after. Ugh, the poor man had gotten so ill, then he went and coughed so much he couldn’t even keep his tiny meal down…

“You okay?” Glenn whispers.

“M’good.”

“It also is better to let the exercises build upon each other, son, your friend is correct,” Hershel affirms. “Everything’s warmed up, so to say, which makes it the ideal time to continue. The whole purpose, even.”

The door opens and cool air whooshes in.

It’s Maggie, who correctly guesses within a few seconds: “Were they buttin’ heads about you again, Daddy?”

“Only a little. I was referred to as ‘old’ and ‘not that decrepit yet’ this time. But they resisted name-calling each other, so haven’t broken their two-week streak on that yet.”

Back to using those terms likening you and Glenn to schoolchildren, this is the equivalent of the principal calling your grown-ups and telling them you were fighting.

Also, you think you need a nap.

“Allow me to finish scolding these two, sweetheart,” Hershel says to his daughter, coughs twice, then clears his throat.

Looks at you. Here we go… “And Y/N, Glenn was entirely correct in understanding that I do require a break. Doing too much of a good thing can and often does backfire, your shoulder therapy, for example. I know you know this and are working on remembering it.”

He blows lightly on his drink and goes to sip but it’s still too hot. Kinda like how your face feels. “Thus, I am going to sit here, take my time enjoying this very beneficial tea — which will further help my congestion break up — and then, once I’ve finished, I will utilize the new peak-flow meter to do the breathing exercises.”

The door opens again and more cool air whooshes in.

It’s Beth, who almost shuts the door, but first turns around and calls to the group “He’s all done, we can go in!”

After this, yes, she is just as sharp as her sister when she sees you and Glenn.

And you knowwww she doesn’t mean to embarrass the living daylights out of you and him, but as everyone but Rick and Daryl pour into the little building, she innocently guesses: “Daddy, did you scold them about babyin’ you again, going too hard, or about name-callin’ each other this time? Glenn and Y/N look like they just got grounded.”

Was that T-Dog who just snorted?

Hershel seems amused, so you suppose that’s good. “I think it’s remarkable that I have that effect on them. Margaret and Shawn tended to be unperturbed.”

“Mostly Maggie,” his youngest daughter agrees.

“Beth!”

The attention mercifully is now directed at the sisters, so you unplug the mp3 from the crank-radio charging port (poop, only ¼ charged), throw on your new camo scarf and hat, and slip outside.

Carl whispers to you, “You’re taking good care of him.”

You love that kid so much, it hurts.

You give him a peck on his forehead, and before you’re even out the door, you’ve started to fiddle with Shane’s ‘22’ pendant around your neck.

A nap won’t work right now, you’re thinking too much, so you head over to the water to take a quick walk around the small reservoir to shake it off.

When you and Glenn fight, it gets to you. Especially when he’s of the mind that you’re being too hard on Mr. Greene. It frightens you. What if you’re losing your capacity for mercy and compassion like Shane was losing his?

Well, the ground might not be frozen yet, but it sure is nippy out. You snuggle deeper into Daryl’s poncho while you still get to wear it, and try to wish away the stupid, annoying crush you’ve got on your that mangy hick. Why did he always have to be working on bettering himself and smell so darn good to you is all you’re asking.

From behind, you hear rushed footsteps.

Mid-way through unsheathing your knife and whipping around, you hear, “Hey Y/N.”

You swivel fully, sheathing the knife. “Hiya Glenn.”

“You okay?”

“I’m chill. You okay?”

“I figured we could go on a quick jog.” As he finishes putting his gloves on, he lowers his eyebrows at something on you. “You’ve got the necklace out, are you sure you’re cool?” he hints.

You pause, then sigh. Fiddling with Shane’s old necklace has become something of an unintentional billboard for how you’re feeling. Like how a baby rubbing their eyes a lot is their unintentional signal that they need sleep. Glenn’s worried he’s hurt your feelings or whatever.

“Wanna jog around with me?” he asks.

“Let’s do it. We’ll need go up into the wooded area to get around the far left edge, by the shed and the old boat.”

“There’s a boat? Oh heck yeah, I wanna check that out, c’mon!”

And so, an impromptu run begins (ew). Unusual outfits for it, ordinarily you and him will at least change into sneakers.

He’s thinking the same thing, so you discover, once he cracks up. “Dude, can you imagine seeing people jogging in outfits like this in the before-times?”

You laugh, but it blends in with how heavy you’re already breathing. “How many laps you plannin’ on doing? I’m wasted on cross country.” (Yes, you said that part in the Gimli voice. You couldn’t help it).

But he finishes the quote! “We dwarves are natural sprinters!”

“Very dangerous over short distances.” (Okay, you’re done, you promise.)

Cracking up, he tells you “Just one lap. Wanted to apologize for earlier.”

“So you’re makin’ me exercise?” you play-whine. Move those arms, inhale, exhale, keep that posture upright. Ugh, running is the worst.

Glenn clears his throat. “Wanted to give you a chance to beat me, natural sprinter.”

“Huh?”

“In the race.”

And just like that, he takes off sprinting like—OH, that sneak!

Go, go, go, go!

“Cheaters never prosper, buttface!” you squeal after him.

“But they win!”

.......................................

about 18 seconds later

.......................................

The race ended faster than intended when he ran into half of a spiderweb, and you, while razzing him, ran into the other.

After some wild shaking like y’all were getting electrocuted, as well as repeatedly shouting that you were both fine to the group’s calls of alarm (“Ain’t walkers, we ran into a spiderweb!”) you’re now taking turns brushing each other off and trying not to yelp too loudly whenever you swear there’s one crawling under your clothes.

Speaking of, you grab your scarf, hat, zip-up hoodie, and Daryl’s poncho from where they were unceremoniously strewn about and give them a final shake so you can bundle back up.

“Let’s call it a tie?” Glenn shivers, putting his own coat and gloves back on.

“A tie. And worst-case scenario, we get spider powers.”

“Or gangrene.”

“Glenn,” you giggle. The fear of having spiders nesting in your hair notwithstanding, you’re feeling much better than before. A quick walk to ‘shake things off’ took a very literal turn, you must say.

“Dude, can you, um,” he starts, then stops. Scratches his neck. “Sit with me for a while?”

“Of course.”

In the hopes of avoiding any more spiders, you both hop to a fairly large rock that’s about two feet out on the water from the treeline. It’s a nice spot even thought your butts are gonna freeze on it.

“Y/N? Sorry for picking a fight again.”

“Friends and family fight,” you’re quick to say. “Besides, Mr. Greene is worth it.”

“But I overreacted again, I know I did.” He’s got a stick in his hand, which he’s snapping off tiny piece by tiny piece. “I think T-Dog was right, the day is getting to me, I guess.”

“That thing about the first holiday ‘without?’”

“Yeah.”

A soft, cold breeze rushes through the air and whips up old, dried leaves. Yeah, T-Dog was concerned that the first Christmas without normalcy and loved ones might hit people hard. And because you wear Dale’s watch, Rick wears his, and Hershel has his calendar book, the time and date is something about which your group keeps track. So far, at least.

Speaking of Rick, you notice Daryl and him out on the far side of the small lake. Rick is facing away, to your relief. You just — you don’t want to think about or look at him right now, and you don’t want him to see you, either.

Which isn’t a good sign, you know, because it means you’re sinking into a bad headspace again. Ugh.

...I don’t hate Rick, I don’t hate Rick, I love Rick, he loves me, he is family, he’s not a bad man, you repeat in your head.

Rick still isn’t facing your direction, but Daryl almost is, still filling out Shane’s old coat so nicely.

You give a small wave, and your stomach makes a delicious but very annoying flutter when his hand goes up in return. Is he smiling? you wonder.

The moment passes, and you’re back to fidgeting with the ‘22’ pendant.

“Your baby sister always danced in The Nutcracker this time of year, right, Glenn?” you say to your friend.

That’s when you hear sniffling, and look to see him crying very quietly. Glenn used to go hide to cry. It’s good that he’s comfortable getting his stuff out more openly now.

The group’s protocol is mainly that when somebody needs a cry, let them get it out without making a big deal.

“I couldn’t stand going to see that dumb ballet, oh my God,” he groans, trying but not really succeeding in not blubbering when he tries speaking. “The plot of that show is just so weird!”

“It is strange.”

He’s gonna need to blow his nose soon. “Last year, I —” he pauses to make a big sniff, “— I had just got back to Michigan, and I snuck in a pocket radio, I —” Again, he cuts off.

He swallows, tugs his hat down, and admits as if he were confessing to murder, “I listened to the Wolverine post-game with earbuds during the show, I w-was such an asshole!”

“Don’t name-call my best friend,” you murmur.

“And Bri, she snuck in a three pound bag of M&Ms, so we —” he pauses to cry heavier remembering his middle sister. He blows his nose. That he took to carrying a handkerchief like Hershel does is convenient at the moment. “We had a contest to see how many w-we could fit in our mouths.” He laughs for a second as he remembers it, then stares down at his feet dangling off the rock. His tears seem to have slowed.

After a several moments pass and his breaths even out, you ask “How many did you fit?”

“51.”

“And Briana?”

Rubbing his face, he sighs, “49. And Umma got to —” a quick inhaled shudder as he talks about his mom, “— She noticed the candy and made it to like 30 before my baby sister finally got onstage. She l-loved watching her dance, we all stopped what we were doing to watch her.” His tears are back to streaming. “She’d gotten so skilled, Y/N.”

“What was your Dad up to in all this?”

Glenn starts to smile again through his tears. “He would watch ballet like it was a basketball game, so he was eating the M&Ms like popcorn with his eyes glued to the stage. He’d do this whenever one of the students aced a move.” Your friend demonstrates a subtle victory pump with his fist.

He snaps the stick in his hand into smaller and smaller pieces.

Once he’s breathing normally again, you offer, “My eldest sister put The Nutcracker on her mp3. Wanna borrow it for a while?”

First, he blows his nose again with what space on the handkerchief is left, then nods in agreement. “She put everything on there, didn’t she?”

She really did, though. You pull the music player out of your pocket and head to the T section to find ‘Tchaikovsky.’

“My baby sister was in so many of the dances last year. Ever since she was old enough, she was put in the Chinese dance, obviously,” he grumbles with a slight eye roll. “So last year, she’d practiced and auditioned for the dude’s role. You know, the guy with the hat who comes out of a box and does all the jumping up and down?” Wiping away more tears, he smiles through it and declares, “She kicked ass.”

“Heck yeah, she did.”

“And th-this—” his voice hitches, rises, and he’s back to heavy crying. “This is the first Christmas without, a-and—”

Oh man, he’s holding it back best he can, but it’s rough.

“— I can’t go see that weird, boring show with them anymore! I-I’d pay attention to every dumb plié and be so,” more sobs, “so f-fucking happy to just be with them again, I just wanna see them again! I don’t h-have any photos or-or—” another sob interrupts and he stops trying to speak.

Even with the sobs, still, he’s somehow a very quiet crier.

He lets it all out. You wait with him.

The tink, tink, tink of the pendant rubbing against the chain as you pull and tug, pull and tug your necklace mixes in with the soft sounds of the breeze, what few birds are still chirping, and the occasional hint of conversation from way over around the fire.

After maybe three or so minutes, Glenn’s calm. He tosses the mini bits of broken stick that he snapped into oblivion into the water. “I wanna chuck rocks in here like we did at the douche car.”

“Me, too.”

“Let’s do that in a while, I think I’ll need to sleep for a bit. I’m just thinking too much right now to want to do that.”

True that, too much thinking before bed doesn’t often result in peaceful dreams.

He seems up for a dumb joke, and he’ll get the reference, so when he goes to toss more of his itty bitty stick nubs, you grab a hold of his wrist and hush in your (it’s not good) best Aragorn impression. “Dew not dis-terb the woh-terr.”

It has the intended effect, his neck relaxes and he grins. “When we find a place with a generator, we’re wasting all the power on the TV so we can watch the extended editions. I don’t care what the dick-tator or anybody else says, we find that house with a gennie, we’re watching Lord of the Rings.”

“Maggie almost grabbed the One Ring replica at the GameStop for you for Christmas, actually, but she settled on the Portal book.”

“And after we’ve watched all like, 12 hours of the movies and the special features, we’re gonna find a PS3 watch you play that cowboy game.”

“Yes! I just wanna rescue that guy’s family and ride my horse.”

While you were there with Maggie, you’d grabbed a copy of this new game you’d been excited for, it had just come out like one week before the world started going downhill. You’d barely gotten passed the first few missions when SHTF. (You two also grabbed a copy of the actual Portal game, but that’s being saved for Glenn’s birthday, so shh!)

Imagining finding an empty place with a generator is a silly way to keep positive, but sometimes silly is best for keeping positive, right?

Glenn’s looking like he’s on the up. Tired, but he seems like he’s gotten most of his tears out. You hand him the earbuds, then show him The Nutcracker score so he can choose which of the 24 songs he wants to remember his family with.

“Want me to get Mags?”

“Yeah. Wait, no, I just need some time alone for a while, I think. When I get some sleep, I’ll see if she’s cool with me holding her.” He cleans off and positions the earbuds. “Thanks for doing this, dude. And hey, I won’t drop it in the water,” he promises, wiping his eyes again. Then they grow big.

He bumps your arm with his knuckles. He gestures to the lake and to the rowboat by the run-down shed next.

Then, he says two terrifying words you hoped you wouldn’t hear again:

“Chicken swim.”

................................

> Part 2 here <

> Masterlist link here <

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 @its-freaking-bats @whistlesalot @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer @dreamingaboutthewonderland @kwazii-kat

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know, we’re all friends here!)

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hellhoundmaggie · 1 year

Text

5 comfort characters

Finally getting to this @cymatile. the notification email has been burning a hole in my inbox for weeks now and I'm glad to finally get to it!

The Beast/Prince Adam (Beauty and the Beast 1991) As a bookish autistic little girl, I of course identified very strongly with Belle. As a city kid in a small town, I still do sometimes. But as an adult, I find myself drawn to the other half of the pairing. Belle is of course a lovely young lady, and I appreciate how she only respects the Beast when he first extends respect to her. But let us face it, she is too perfect a character to be truly compelling. Beast is quite the work in progress, though, and that's what makes him so fascinating. You thrill as you watch him angst and snarl and throw his weight around -- first to frighten and threaten others, then to protect the woman he loves. You are charmed as he discovers joy and companionship, then mourn with him as he gives it up to return Belle's freedom to her. And you're just a little disappointed when he changes into a generically-handsome man, even if it does mean he and Belle get to live happily ever after. Plus, as the meme says: "I'll get that bitch a library. Bitches love libraries."

Shane (Stardew Valley) Okay, I've read all the criticisms many times. He starts out mean to you for no reason. He's a total slob and a sad sack. He never actually quits drinking. He looks like Ben Shapiro. And I gotta tell you: I cannot fault this very good chicken man for any of it. This is another guy that I feel no choice but to root for because he struggles with so many flaws. I appreciate that the game doesn't let you "fix" them for him: you only give him the help he directly asks you for. He makes the most important changes himself, and the stuff he doesn't change isn't a dealbreaker for me. Plus Shane kind of looks like my IRL spouse so I gotta love him just for that, y'know? I can't forgive him for liking gridball, though. As a nerd, jocks are my natural enemy. Sorry, I don't have a choice!

Entrapta (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power) Not a lot of people know this, but ND Stevenson called me up while he was developing the She-Ra reboot and asked for my input. I asked him, "Are you going to have a woman character with autistic coding in the show?" "Yes, we're going to have one of those," he said. "And is she going to have a special interest that few other characters in the show understand or empathize with?" "Okay, yeah." "Is she going to despair of ever finding genuine human connection and try to find solace in technology before learning that yes, there are people who care about her and value her uniqueness?" "Ooh, that's a good idea. Sure." "And can you pair her up with an angsty boy?" "I can definitely do that. Thanks, Maggie!" And that's why Reboot Entrapta is the way she is. You're welcome, everyone. 4. Wayne (Scarlet Hollow) I already post a lot about this guy, so I won't say much this time. I like him because he lets me explore the idea of being the subject of extreme passion and devotion in a way that doesn't put me in actual danger. I would never seek out that kind of relationship in real life, but love beyond proportion, beyond reason, beyond sanity is compelling in fiction. Plus he makes for some fun memes. 5. Mr. Pages (Fallen London) I love this big ol' nerd: its creative vocabulary, its book hyperfixation, and how bad it is at hiding the fact that it's not human. As soon as they put out the balance patch for Mask of the Rose, I am going to figure out how to smooch it, and you cannot stop me.

tagging nobody! Do this if you feel like it.

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psychicbergara · 2 years

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Hii this might be a lot to ask but I haven’t been able to keep up with all their content so I don’t know about most of the bingo card🤣 is it okay if you mention from which ep each thing that was crossed or like post a snippet of it? Thanks!

hi anon!! im not gonna lie i had to dive DEEP into my blog to find the reasonings behind some of the crossed out ones because i simply did not remember a lot of them since there are SO many moments and theyre just crazy in love idk what to tell you.

also shoutout to @littlekingbergara for helping me out GIVE HER ALL THE LOVE they're my boo <3

so im gonna go row by row for these reasonings!!

1. cute instastories: not sure when the date or time was, but this was when shane uploaded an instastory of him and ryan playing pool in chicago!! either that, or maybe it's another instastory and it's slipping my mind, regardless they post about each other a lot :D

2. shane "heart eyes" madej: ok so let's be real... heart eyes madej is just a constant at this point LSDKJF. but the moment i marked were these: the zoom screenshot was in a ww+ 103 and in the most recent season of top 5 beatdown!! the zoom one is so cute because ryan was ranting about annoying people in movie theaters and shane was just So Fond

3. the mamma mia mentions were in ww+ 116 :D

4. another weird thing in common: i recently marked it off it in this post right here about the butterfinger moments if you wanna take a quick look

5. blatant flirting on camera: THE ENTIRETY OF BERRY BOYS 2 EPISODE!!! literally that video IS SO MUCH I STG!!! i cant watch it again without collapsing into a million little piece it was JUST OOZING WITH LOVE AND FLIRTING LIKE WTH!!

6. ryan accidentally making a sexual joke about him and shane: WHEW this one was a DOOZY when this came out SLDKJF it was in ww+ 113 where ryan jokes about shane 'dominance humping' him in the office,,,, you read that correctly and yes it did happen DFGFJG here's the clip of that moment :D

7. denny's hug: it was in the top 5 beatdown chain restaurants episode in the most recent season when they BOTH had denny's as number one and they hugged :D

8. an adorable hug: we actually got FOUR hugs in the most recent season of too many spirits... it was so gay so like watch that whole season its SO worth it THE HUGS WERE TOO CUTE

9. they stare at each other like theyre disgustingly in love: ONCE AGAIN IM SCREAMING FROM THE ROOFTOPS THE! BERRY BOYS!! TWO!!! EPISODEEE!!! like literally that video is my life blood at this point that whole video was just them looking at each other like this:

yea... GOD anyways before i die thinking about it lets continue..

10. ryan calling shane big boy: even though ryan did in one of the ghost files eps, he also did it in one of the episodes in the most recent season of too many spirits!! so watch those eps ;)

11. they go on spooky dates: *gestures at the entirety of ghost files* they also filmed alcatraz on valentines day... so thats a whole ass date if i've ever seen one LSKDJF

12. steven wishing he left watcher: ww+ 108 and 109!! if you watch those, you can so clearly tell that steven wishes he could sink into a hole so he doesnt have to see ryan and shane blatantly flirt in front of him ever again. literally he stares at the camera like he's jim from the office or gregory from abbott elementary sldfjdf

13. shane calling ryan "little guy" + hand holding: these moments were both from the powerpoint party one-off!! that video is such a gem :') while calling ryan little guy he gave him his cape (one of shane's FAVORITE things) as a blanket it was ADORABLE

14. "shut up shane" (threatening): this was from the we try spicy chicken sandwiches feat. korean englishmen video!! ryan says this when shane is sitting on the side relaxing while theyre all dying eating spicy sandwiches DFGLKG

WHEW!! and that's it :D i sure hope we get bingo by the end of this year or i will lowkey riot ngl salskdjfsdf

#asks #sophie answers #shyan

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 10 months

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How well do the sdv and sve bachelor/ette's flirt, and what styles of flirting do they have in your opinion? Hope you respond and enjoy writing your headcanon if you do :3

Hey hey, dear anon 👋 Thanks for your question! I enjoy writing headcanons and always glad to see you on my blog ☺️❤️

How well Stardew Valley/Stardew Valley Expanded bachelors/ettes flirt with the Farmer:

SDV bachelors:

Alex:

Flex. A lot of flex. Every time Farmer is around, Alex will lift heavy objects, thus showing off his muscles. Heavy? No, it's not hard for him to hold a huge crate at all! He repeatedly brags about his achievements in sports, but also doesn't forget to praise the Farmer for their hard work and looks. If Farmer gives the 'green light" for his flirting, Alex will move on to more classic things: small gifts, bouquets of flowers, walks on the beach, that sort of thing. Very nice of him, by the way. 6/10 - if he doesn’t praise himself often.

Sam:

In regards to flirting with someone, Sam gets a bit of a funny situation, which can be described by the phrase "Task failed successfully". Being inexperienced in love affairs, Sam often confuses words when he tries to flirt, or trips over an unfortunate rock in the road when he wants to approach Farmer. The young musician thinks to himself that his flirting is terrible and that he is clumsy. However, after much laughter, the Farmer thought Sammy was a very funny guy who would always make them laugh and they wanted to get to know him better. Task failed successfully! 5/10, although the flirting wasn't very good, it still worked!

Elliott:

If you think Elliott is going to seduce Farmer like in the book novels, you're absolutely right! But there is a little nuance. Yes, Elliott is a very well-mannered and sophisticated man, so his flirting, gifts and time spent will be the most romantic. However, a life of seclusion in a beach house has also made itself felt, and sometimes Elliott can forget that this is not a romance, but real life. So, let the Farmer get ready for small talk and nice walks in nature. Elliott will try to find an excuse to meet Farmer more often. 9/10, very good!

Sebastian:

Oh man, Sebastian's flirting.... is a bit of a mess. The young man was too shy and socially awkward to flirt with his object of affection in any way. He couldn't muster up the courage to show his past affection for Abigail, and it's more complicated than that. More often than not, and unknowingly, Sebby will smile and blush when talking to Farmer, avert his gaze, also more often invite them to his house to play board games or read comics. 3/10, sorry Seb, but that's not much of a flirt.

Harvey:

Yoba witnesses, Harvey tries his best, and, in principle, his flirting with Farmer turns out quite well. Not without flaws, of course, when he got a little nervous and confused, but quite acceptable and very romantic. The local doctor doesn't have much experience in love adventures, but he knows very well that the classics won't let him down if he wants to show his interest in the chaotic Farmer. 7/10, the key thing for Harvey is to keep his nerve (and not offer private medical check-up too often).

Shane:

Flirting is not Shane's thing. He has pretty low self-esteem and doesn't seem to care what most people think of him or what he looks like. Even if he gets the urge to try and start courting Farmer in some way, he stops himself most of the time. Unfortunately, Shane considers himself unworthy of their attention, like, who would want to socialise with someone like him. So the chicken lover will just throw dreamy glances at Farmer in the Saloon. Although, after a couple of beers, he does manage to flirt somehow (a bit vulgar, but still). 2/10, Farmer needs to make the first move themselves if they're interested in Shane.

SVE bachelors:

Lance:

No one knows whether it's a natural talent or whether Lance was taught a whole set of rules on how to flirt and behave in society, but this gallant man with a catty grin on his face is just a real master of flirting. Just like a noble knight in shining armour who came out of a chivalric novel. He knows perfectly well what levers to pull in order to gain the goodwill of the person he likes. Even if the Farmer doesn't mind flirting, but are an impregnable fortress, Lance is willing to spend a lot of time to conquer that fortress. 10/10, what a real romantic bastard.

Victor:

Behold - the smoothest man who can outdo even Elliott in his mastery of romance and very subtle flirting. Though a bit shy and introverted, Victor knows how to make the Farmer blush with a compliment (thanks to the many books on the subject in his personal library). Lots of walks, interesting and not too long conversations, dinner at the Saloon, or even sitting together at the game console. Victor chooses his complimentary words very carefully and watches the Farmer's reaction. If they don't feel uncomfortable, Victor continues. 8/10, this spaghetti man is full of surprises.

Magnus Rasmodius:

It had been a long time since Magnus had flirted with anyone, the last time he'd done so had been when he was younger... So it wasn't easy for him to remember everything he knew about love affairs, though even in his youth there had been only one affair, then marriage, then divorce, then.... Oh, well, that's just the way it is. Magnus is quite a romantic wizard, no doubt about it, but the hardest thing is to start flirting, especially if it's successful. It would help him to spend time together (a.k.a. magic lessons, thanks that Farmer has talent and is no stranger to Magnus). 4/10, c'mon Magnus, we believe in you.

SDV bachelorettes:

Leah:

Leah's main flirt is praise and shared pastime. Farmer very often becomes her muse for a future painting or sculpture, which, by the way, Leah then presents them. Collecting mushrooms and berries together, where the girl shares her experience in finding the best places with a lot of delicious gifts of the forest, she also repeatedly offers her help on the farm and praises their physical build. Leah is not shy about flirting, and if Farmer is single and doesn't feel uncomfortable during her flirting, the girl will continue until she achieves victory on the love front. 7/10, pretty good and confident flirting.

Penny:

Penny is a very sweet and kind girl, but she has zero ambition. She blushes too much and she almost always looks away or hides her face in a book if she sees Farmer, so it's an impossible task for a young teacher to approach her object of affection and start flirting. Her trouble is that Penny thinks she's a "grey mouse" who no one will pay much attention to, much less someone like Farmer. 0/10, I'm sorry Penny, but you have no flirting skills at all.

Maru:

Maru will look for any excuse to fix Farmer's broken appliances to get to know each other better. Broken recycling machine? Maru is already here, always ready to help them. In fact, she's always helped with repairs, but now her visits have become even more frequent. Mostly, the young inventor is a bit shy and rather timid when she tries to compliment the Farmer's appearance or clothes. She is sometimes afraid she might bore them with her chatter about her inventions. But if Farmer enjoys listening to a girl, she'll definitely talk all her ears off about science, and it will be much easier for her to flirt with them. 5/10, not too good but not too bad.

Haley:

Oh, Haley sure has a few tricks to get Farmer's attention on herself. After all, she was a star in high school and the centre of attention for many of her fans. Flirting is her thing. A subtle hint of wanting a relationship here, a successful praise there, a light conversation afterwards, a "chance" encounter here - it's a whole art for the blonde-haired girl. Also one of her best tactics is to be herself: to be nice, fun, and not to stay under the mask of a slightly spoilt and rude girl. Haley's tactics work, and Farmer has also started to take a liking to her. 8/10, there are a couple of flaws, but overall a quality flirt.

Abigail:

The amethyst lover's hints of flirting almost directly scream that she likes Farmer a lot. Recall at least her post 8 ❤️ event when she says that "Farmer must know what happened yesterday". But Abigail is going to start wooing them anyway, as she's not sure they've realized what happened yesterday after all. Constant compliments from Abby, also one of her main flirtations is her sketches of various fantasy characters, which she gives to Farmer. 6.5/10, not bad in principle but could be better.

Emily:

Honestly, I'm not sure Emily understands what flirting is at all. Well, she feels sympathy and a love interest for Farmer, but even when the two are officially a couple, Emily thanks them and refers to them as "good friend". "Friend", friendzone forever... Sure, she'll always compliment Farmer on their beautiful looks or their harmonious clothing choices, but it feels like she still refers to them as a friend. 1/10, I love you Emily, but you're not trying at all.

SVE bachelorettes:

Sophia:

Have pity on poor Sophia, she's having a hard enough time socialising as it is, and then there's the need to flirt! She has a very similar case as Penny, but unlike the red-haired girl, Sophia makes more attempts. Watching anime together, chatting about new manga, the latest from the video game world, etc... She also shares the most delicious snacks and sweets with Farmer, which is a big step considering how shy she is. This sort of thing comes across as just a friendly hangout, but Sophia tries to hint that she wants more than friendship. 4/10, she's really trying her best.

Olivia:

Need to say - Olivia is a bit of a contradiction in terms. This woman was a masterful flirt when she was younger if she really liked someone, and her skill hasn't faded over the years. The problem is simply that she's a widow, hasn't had a relationship since her husband's death, and feels that her flirting with someone (especially a younger person like Farmer) would constitute a betrayal to her late husband. If Olivia and Farmer work it out, the woman will quickly show the object of her affection what sophisticated and professional flirting is all about. 9/10, mommy- *ahem*, Olivia knows how to wow Farmer.

Claire:

Due to the fact that Claire is a rather quiet and shy girl (not as shy as Penny or Sophia) and her constant fatigue at work at JojaMart, flirting with Farmer is not easy for her. On the other hand, the young girl always feels a rush of energy when she sees her close friend (who has become her object of admiration). Claire doesn't have too many tricks in her flirting arsenal, but compliments and spending time together are assured. 5/10, not too bad, actually.

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psn-stalling · 7 months

Note

074. What is your character’s favorite game?

//I've mentioned it before, but he absolutely ADORES the Pokémon world equivalent of Stardew Valley. I play it a lot myself and I know for a fact he'd enjoy it. How he plays it though can be a little... Questionable.

//He loves going to talk and befriend people except for the four he doesn't like. You will NEVER catch him talking to Pierre, Lewis, Penny, or Clint. He would rather die. And EVERY. SINGLE. SAVE. He will Krobus as a roommate. You cannot change this fact.

//He also really fucking hates skull caverns. He'll go because you kinda NEED to, but most of the time you'll find him just tending to his crops. He is not going to automate his farm. The most you get is sprinklers.

//He's also the type of person to befriend Shane first ONLY for the chickens. He likes the blue chickens an unhealthy amount. And yes, he definitely uses the [item id] glitch whenever he gets a new animal (Pokémon?) lmfao

#//mod midnight posting!

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huggingkrobus · 2 years

Text

Your Voice Makes My Ears Bleed

[ ❥ ] PAIRING: Shane x fem!Reader

»»————-　♡　————-««

[ ❥ ] SYNOPSIS: Shane just wants a night alone at the bar, but God, you just won’t shut up.

»»————-　♡　————-««

[ ❥ ] WORD COUNT: 1.6k

[ ❥ ] WARNINGS: A sprinkle of angst.

[ ❥ ] INCLUDES: Enemies to lovers :0

[ ❥ ] REQUESTED: Yes

[ ❥ ] NOTES: Unedited, read at your own risk (edit: this is part 1 and I cant think of anything to write for part 2 lol help)

»»————-　♡　————-««

“9:25,” read the clock.

Like a hostile reminder: “Hey, you’ve been here for hours. You’re really wasting your life away, aren’t you? God, so pathetic.”

He wished he could smash that clock. Throw it to the ground and stomp on it. Probably get a piece of glass stuck in his shoe, then he’d have to buy new ones. That’s the only reasonable thing he could think of as to why he shouldn’t throw that clock off the wall right then and there: he didn’t have enough spare cash for new shoes.

The black-haired boy sat glass in hand, elbows propped against the familiar hardwood. Glossy and warm, accustomed and preciously glazed. Hundreds of rings sat dried on the shine of the bar. He knew they were all his. No one else ever sat there except him.

Maybe Pam. She came there a lot. Maybe she and Shane could have been friends if they’d talked sooner. Now it’s just weird, feels wrong. They’ve gone so long without talking that it’s just a silent agreement between the two of them to leave it at that. So they do.

Today, Pam got to the Saloon after Shane. Not too long after, but it made him feel bad. He never got there before her. Was it this bad?

It was so late at night that he wasn’t expecting anyone else to pay a visit to the Saloon, but the door creaked open again and, in stepped a taller girl beaming with youth. Some may have even described her as ‘perky.’ In fact, Shane was pretty sure Leah actually had.

“Evening, Gus!” you spoke excitedly. Shane cringed and wondered how anyone could be that way willingly. So bright. It’s 9:30 at night, tone it down.

“Good evening. Can I get you anything?” Gus gave his usual spiel while washing dishes to prepare for closing.

You leaned down onto the bar, tipping your straw hat slightly upward to get a better look at the menu, “Hmm,” you stared, scanning every line before looking back at Gus, “You got any Sashimi tonight?”

Shane rolled his eyes and tried not to scoff loud enough for you to hear him. Sashimi? Why would anyone like something like that? It’s just raw fish, how could something get worse than that?

You must have heard him anyways because when he looked back in your direction to continue eavesdropping, all he saw was your eyes looking at his, eyebrows pinched downward with what was either annoyance or anger. He was too drunk to tell.

“You got something against Sashimi, chicken boy?”

He looked at Gus, trying to avoid any sort of confrontation, but Gus didn’t look back. He was busy working.

“Of course, I have something against Sashimi. It’s raw fish and that’s it. How could anyone ever in their right mind-”

And that’s when he noticed you were laughing. A soft and joyful laugh. He was confused.

“I was kidding, I don’t care. Everyone’s got different opinions, I don’t mind. This isn’t even for me anyway. Pierre has had a Sashimi craving for days now, and I can’t seem to get my hands on the stuff.” You looked at him with what he tried to recognize as a sincere smile. All he felt was embarrassed. You looked back at Gus, “So, you got any Sashimi?”

Gus scrubbed a dirty plate and looked disappointed back at you, “Sorry kiddo. We were selling some last night, seems you missed it,” He paused briefly to turn off the sink and dry his hands, “Thankfully for you, I should be getting some more fish soon if Willy hurries up. That man’s been having a rough season, can’t seem to catch anything lately.” Gus leaned against the bar after speaking.

“Yeah, I heard about that. Real shame. Real early spring isn’t good for fishing I’ve heard. The cold’s going away and the fish don’t know where to go.” Gus nodded slowly in response.

After a brief pause, he spoke up again, “On the subject of fish, tonight’s special is fish taco if you’re interested. Might as well eat something before you leave.”

A smile grew on your face, “That sounds great Gus, I’d love one if you don’t mind.”

Gus turned around to begin preparing the taco, “It’s my job!”

Shane tuned the rest out. Boring conversations about things he doesn’t even pay attention to. He picked out a few keywords like ‘Saloon’, ‘coop’, and ‘video game.’ The cheerful and politeness of it all made him almost sick to the stomach. The word ‘chicken’ really brought him back to focus.

“Coop should be done tomorrow!” you started, “Then I’ll head to Marnie’s for a chicken or two.”

“And these are your first chickens?” Gus asked.

“Yes sir!”

“Shane here is an expert at all things chickens,” Gus pointed slowly at Shane while grilling a fish, “He may not look it, but I assure you he’s the guy to go to when you have questions.”

You glanced back to Shane with what he thought was a scowl in his drunk mind, “I don’t know if he’s the best to go to for advice,” You looked back at Gus to point at Shane, “Look at him,” you attempted to whisper, “I think I got this.”

And he knew that was personal. It’s not like you didn’t know each other. You definitely did. And that’s what made it hurt more. Your history wasn’t good, but it was long. Sophomore year of high school, chemistry class. You sat right next to each other. A copy and paste next to a guy in a stained hoodie. A recipe for disaster.

Your teacher was too dumb to see that this was a bad idea.

You hated him because he talked about chickens too much. He hated you because your lip gloss smelled like cupcakes, and it made him want to throw up. You hated him because his boots always had dirt on them. He hated you because your thousands of pens and highlighters always spilled onto his desk.

We could go on.

It was the little things at first, but they piled up fast. Before Shane met you, he was sure he would never have the heart to kill someone with his own hands, but by the end of the year, he was quite certain he was capable of murder.

You had no reason to hate each other now. Sure, you still wore that lip gloss, and sure, he still talked about chickens too much, but most of the stuff he hated back then had faded, right?

But when you said what you had said he knew you were no different. Old habits die hard, he guessed.

Usually, he would choose to ignore it. But this time he was drunk. And he was very bored. And you looked extra punchable today.

“I’m right here,” he said.

You smiled devilishly, knowing precisely what you were doing, “I know.”

“You think just because I’m a sad drunk you can say stuff like that to me and it won’t affect me,” He stood up from his barstool and drank the rest of whatever alcoholic contraption was in his glass, “You think just because we’ve been doing this for years that it’s still okay? I’ve been trying to change you know,” he moved closer to you, and you backed away as much as you could on a barstool, “Clearly you haven’t. I thought you’d be mature enough by now to have realized that’s not okay. Now that I’m an adult and I’m not okay. We’re not teenagers anymore.” his speech barely slurred, and as he began rounding the corner, he could feel it.

The dizziness kicked in, and he knew it was coming. His stomach churned, and before he could think, he ran out the Saloon door to the closest trash can.

And he vomited. This taste was familiar to him; the sourness that coated his tongue. It was a part of the routine. Get mad at yourself, drink, get mad at the world, drink, vomit, repeat.

His stomach felt empty. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and sat on the stairs of the Saloon. The door creaked open behind him, and you sat down next to him.

“Hey.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry about that. Seriously.”

He didn’t even look at you.

“I didn’t think you’d get that hurt by it.”

He didn’t even want to look at you.

“I mean, you talk about chickens a lot, so I guess it’s pretty obvious you’d get hurt by a comment like that.”

Maybe it was the embarrassment.

“Still, I’m sorry.”

Or maybe it was because he hated you.

“Shane.”

Or maybe it was the sound of your voice.

“Christ, Shane, stop being so childish, why won’t you-”

And so he did the only thing that would shut you up. Maybe if he thought about it more he would realize that after he did it you would talk even more. Thinking ahead wasn’t his forte.

He kissed you. Quickly, only for a few seconds. But he put his lips on yours without thinking and it didn’t feel wrong.

He was the one to break away. He kept a hand cupped on your cheek for a few seconds until you pushed him away to speak.

“Goddamnit Shane, you taste like vomit!” You yelled, standing up from the stairs to walk a few feet away from where he was sitting. You crossed your arms, “Why did you do that? Do you hate my voice that much?”

“Read my mind.”

You rolled your eyes and stormed away, “Jesus Christ, you are insane.”

And so he sat on the cold, concrete stairs. Alone.

He’ll apologize tomorrow.

»»————-　♡　————-««

[ ❥ ] ~ HUGGING KROBUS

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