#(SHANE ' And that's not even how they work in ')

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

`

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[wrightingdungeon]

Just a apple

I decided to write for my comfort ship, cus I'm depressed and fighting writer's block/imposter syndrome, this is essentially me making chicken noodle soup for my soul

Penny x Shane, fight me

Looking down at the apple in his hand, Shane let out a low groan. The fruit stared back at him, dull and unpolished—nothing like the shiny, wax-coated ones from Joja Mart. Some dirt still clung stubbornly to its skin as it had been plucked straight from the branch just yesterday, not washed yet. He turned it over, noticing a few scuff marks where it looked like Jas had dropped it a few times.

He recalled how Farmer had let Jas pick a few from their orchard the other day for her to feed the animals. But this apple wasn’t meant for them. Jas had cradled it in her small hands, determined to give it to her teacher, Penny. "So I won’t forget!" she’d declared proudly, placing it on the kitchen counter with a smile that made Shane’s heart ache a little less, knowing she would be a positive force on the world as she grew up.

Now, that same apple sat where she’d left it, a silent reminder of Jas’s disappointment. She had woken up with a fever, her cheeks flushed and forehead hot to the touch. Disappointment had flooded her eyes when she realized she wouldn’t be going to school. "But… but I wanted to… to give it to Miss Penny," she had murmured, her bottom lip trembling, her resolve crumbling in the face of illness.

Tossing the apple up once, then catching it in his calloused hand, Shane’s eyes narrowed. He could just leave it there, let Jas deliver it when she felt better. But something in him resisted that idea. Perhaps it was the gratitude he’d been nursing for a while, seeing how Penny took care of Jas—patient and kind—always ensuring she got the care and education he feared he couldn’t provide her.

“Fuck it…” Shane muttered under his breath, his resolve hardening as he gripped the apple tighter. He’d drop it off on his way to work; her house was on the route, after all. Just a simple gesture—a little thank you from an uncle who didn’t know how to say the words out loud.

Stepping outside, the cool morning air nipped at his skin. He set off down the familiar path, boots crunching softly against gravel. One of the few perks of being up early was the solitude—just Shane, the road, and the endless stretch of sky warming with the first hints of dawn. For a moment, he could almost convince himself the world was just his, silent and still, untouched.

Morning doves cooed from their perches, joined by the rhythmic buzz of cicadas hidden in the grass, their song rising and falling like the tide. Each step felt instinctive, every dip and curve of the road familiar. He could probably walk it blindfolded if he had to, honestly having walked home from the bar without releasing it a few times.

The apple grew warmer in his hand, grounding him, reminding him of the task ahead. What would he even say to Penny? ‘Hey, this is from Jas,’ and then just walk away? Or maybe try to say something more meaningful, and end up making a ass of himself.

He let out a heavy sigh, breath misting in the chilly air. It wasn’t like he was doing anything special—just delivering an apple. But it felt bigger, like it carried more weight than he understood. Maybe because Jas had put so much thought into this gesture, or because he felt he had so little to give in return.

As he approached the old trailer, Shane slowed his steps, taking in the sight of the once-vibrant home now dulled by years of wear, the shiny exterior was now rusting over. Empty beer bottles cluttered the ground around Pam's white plastic smoking chair, their glass glinting dully in the light. Shane let out a soft sigh, half-tempted to turn around and shove the apple in his locker at work, but he was already here. He’d even left earlier than usual, meaning he’d be standing outside Joja waiting for Morris to open the doors if he bailed now.

He leaned his head back, groaning softly, shaking it to summon the courage that always slipped through his fingers. Finally, he climbed the creaky steps, each one protesting under his weight. Lifting his free hand, he rapped quickly against the metal door and waited, telling himself he'd give it a minute—just sixty seconds—and then he’d be out of there.

As he began to step back, relieved by the lack of response, the door creaked open as if on cue to stop him. Shane paused, heart jolting as he saw Penny’s green eyes and bright red hair peek out, her expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “Shane?” she whispered, her voice barely cutting through the morning air as she stepped outside. He caught a glimpse of Pam passed out and snoring on the couch behind her before the door clicked shut, leaving the two of them outside on the small porch. “What can I do for you?”

For a moment, he stood there, awkward and unsure, the apple now feeling like a rock in his palm. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, embarrassment creeping up his neck. “Jas picked this for you. Said you were a good teacher or somethin’.” He held out the apple, trying to sound casual, as if it didn’t matter.

Penny’s expression softened as she reached out, her fingers brushing against his. “Oh,” she said, eyes brightening in a way that made Shane’s chest tighten with unexpected warmth. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to tell her how much I love it.”

Silence fell between them, and Shane shuffled his feet, searching for something else to say. “She, uh, wasn’t feelin’ great this morning,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head. “But she wanted you to have it.”

Penny nodded, her gaze warm and understanding. “I hope she feels better soon,” she said softly. “I know how much she looks forward to coming to school.”

“Yeah,” Shane replied, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He didn’t know how to articulate the mix of guilt and gratitude swirling inside him. “She really cares about you, you know? It’s nice to see someone look out for her.”

Penny’s smile deepened, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world around them had faded away. “Thank you, Shane. That means a lot,” she said, her voice steady but laced with sincerity. “It’s easy to forget how much these little things matter.”

Shane shrugged, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “I don’t do much, but… I try to be there for her.” He could hear the slight tremor in his voice, an unfamiliar vulnerability surfacing as he spoke.

“You do more than you realize,” Penny replied, her tone gentle, as if she could sense the struggle behind his words. “Jas sees you as a role model, you know?”

The warmth of her words surprised him, a soft ember igniting in his chest. Shane shifted, feeling an unexpected swell of appreciation. “Yeah, well… don’t go spreadin’ that around… Got a reputation to maintain,” he shot back, attempting to mask the fluttering sensation in his chest.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she replied, her playful tone laced with sincerity. For the first time in a long while, something inside Shane eased. He felt his mouth twitch, an involuntary smile threatening to break through, but he fought it back, maintaining his gruff exterior. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbled, though there was no bite to his words.

“You’re not as scary as you think,” Penny teased, tilting her head, her hair catching the light. It wasn’t fair how easily she got under his skin. “Deep down, you’re just… kind.”

“Alright, now you’re just talkin’ nonsense,” he muttered, heat creeping up his neck. He shifted, feeling like a teenager caught in an awkward encounter. “It’s just an apple, Penny. Don’t make a big deal outta it.”

“But it is a big deal,” she insisted, her voice gentle but firm. “You didn’t have to, but you did. And that means something…”

For a moment, Shane didn’t know how to respond. The sincerity in her eyes made it impossible to brush off her words. “Yeah, well… someone’s gotta thank you. You work real hard,” he said quietly, the admission slipping past his defenses.

Penny’s expression softened further, her eyes shining with something deeper. “You’re the first to say that,” she murmured, fingers brushing anxiously against the apple’s smooth skin. “Sometimes, it feels like no one even notices.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not doin’ a damn good job,” Shane replied quickly, surprising himself with his certainty. “Jas, Vincent—they look up to you. And I… I’m grateful for that. Don’t think I say it enough.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words. Penny’s cheeks flushed a faint pink as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not as bad as you think you are, Shane,” she said, a teasing lilt underscored with belief.

He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “If you say so.”

Penny smiled, lighting up her face. “I do say so,” she replied, winking as she reached back toward the door. “But you should really give yourself more credit. It’s okay to be kind, you know?”

He felt heat rise in his cheeks again, rubbing the back of his neck harder, as if to erase it. “Yeah, well… maybe I’ll think about it,” he replied, voice gruff but lacking real bite.

“Good,” she said, voice softening again. “I’ll see you around, Shane. And tell Jas I hope she feels better soon.”

“Will do,” he nodded, feeling strangely buoyed as he turned to leave, the weight of the morning feeling lighter.

As he walked down the steps, he glanced back one last time, catching Penny still standing there, watching him with that soft smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

He waved goodbye, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him, grounding him. With each step away from her porch, he realized that for the first time in a long while, he felt seen—not just the drunk who stumbled through life—but as someone worthy and capable of kindness and connection.

The world around him felt different, alive with possibilities he hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps it was true; maybe he was more than just a shadow in the background. He could be a part of something meaningful, all because of something as simple as an apple.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 8

Summary: You're getting ready to officially leave for college, when a familiar truck pulls up outside your house. When you go to say goodbye to your best friend, there is more tension than you expected. Flash forward to the immediate aftermath of the explosion, and you stand up to Shane once and for all.

See notes at the end, as they contain spoilers for this chapter.

Warnings: mentions of smut, but still SFW.

You were nervously packing your thrifted backpack with the half used notebooks and pencils from your room, head spinning with the list of things you needed to buy for your first semester at Georgia State University. You were lucky you had some student grants to help you with things like your dorm room costs and buying new bedding for the new bed you’ll have. But the costs of textbooks, extra clothes that weren’t tattered with stains and holes, and --if you found one good and cheap–a laptop were looming over you. You heard a honking outside your front door that pulled you away from your mental list in your head. You zipped up your backpack and hauled it over your shoulder along with the duffel bag with all your other belongings. You were headed out to the bus stop anyway, managing to find a couple bucks under your mom’s mattress while she was out today. You figured you’d find out who was honking outside on your way out. When you opened the front door, you froze in the doorway, half turned around to close it behind you. There was a glossy black truck in your driveway. You slowly brought the door shut behind you. Looking around the street to see if anyone else was nearby, you dropped your things on your porch and walked down to the driver’s side door hesitantly.

“Hey,” Shane says in a hoarse whisper, leaning out the window. 

“Hi,” you say simply back. You stood a few feet away from the car, waiting for him to say something, and he looked lost for words. He pushed his hand through his long black hair that sits piled on top of his head in a neat tousled style. His beard was growing a bit fuller now, and you stopped yourself from trying to think of what it feels like to the touch. The way Shane acted the last time you saw him was still fresh in your memory. You reached up to your neck unconsciously before bringing your hands back down to your sides. 

“Listen…” Shane finally began, “I–I’m sorry. About everything. I was such an asshole, baby. I should’ve known better,” he said nervously, “You are everything to me, Y/N. I hate the way I treated you that night. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I miss you. I know what I did was wrong and…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

You took a deep breath, processing everything he was saying. On the one hand, you wanted him to feel as hollow as you had the past couple weeks without him. You were glad to hear he’d been hurting from the way he acted the last time. He had left bruises on your skin, but what hurt you the most was that he wouldn’t even listen to you. He completely disregarded your words, let alone how terrible you were feeling that night. But at the same time…god, you’ve missed him too. After a long while, you come to your answer. Your mind is screaming to you that you should’ve said no, but your heart managed to answer first.

“Okay,” you whisper. He looked up with you, his puppy dog brown eyes full of hope.

“Okay? You forgive me?” he said. You nodded with a small smile. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, getting out of his truck to hug you tight to him, “you’re everything to me, truly,” he whispered into your hair as he held you against him. He felt warm and muscled under his officer uniform–he must’ve just gotten off of work. You pulled back from him, and looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity.

“You mean it?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I do,” he says, reaching down and pulling you for a hard kiss. He captures your mouth possessively, holding your face to his with his large, rough hands. His tongue plunges into your mouth with fervor. You hummed in satisfaction and he pulled you into the truck, sitting you on his lap. As he sat back in the driver’s seat, he ran his rough hands down your arms, making you shiver. You straddled him, knees deep in the seat as he pulled you closer.  “How ‘bout one more time, before you have to go,” he teased, pulling you into him for a few small, wet pecks to your lips.

“I have to get going, I’m going to miss my bus,” you said, your arms around his neck.

“I’ll drive you, I don’t want you on that nasty public bus,” he said with a playful hint to his voice. 

You hesitated. You were planning on seeing Daryl on your way out, to say goodbye. You weren’t moving far, but the chances of you being able to afford bus fare and come back to see him were few and far between. 

“It’s really okay, I don’t mind,” you insisted, pulling your arms away from his neck. You went to press them on his chest but he reached up, holding your arms in place.  “I’ll take you to see ‘em,” he said knowingly. He rubbed his hands down your arms again, comforting you. His voice was quiet and soft. Gentle, even. Your eyes widened in confusion.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yeah, ‘course. But first,” he smiled coyly, “…I’ve missed you,” he said, squeezing your ass in his large hands, making you grind your hips onto him. You toppled forward onto him, his lips finding your neck, kissing and biting you.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled, “make it quick–then I really have to go,” 

“Deal,” he said, grabbing your hair and pulling you further down into his lap.

x

You breathlessly pulled your shirt back down to cover yourself and zipped your shorts up when you climbed out of the truck a few minutes later.

“I gotta go get my bags,” you began, buttoning the last fastening on your shorts, “And I think I forgot something,” you said with a big smile, going up to your house for the last time. You run to haul your bags over your shoulders, dashing inside.

x

You had thought this was a good idea–Shane dropping you by Daryl’s on your way to leave for school. But the closer and closer you got to his house, the faster your heart beated against your chest. As Shane put the truck in park, he pulled your chin to look at him and brought you in for a long kiss before releasing you. 

“Go on, I’ll be right here,” he said gently.

You smiled and pushed open the door with one hand, a cupcake in your left. When Shane offered to give you a ride, you suddenly had remembered you made one vanilla cupcake for today to bring to Daryl. You were going to miss his birthday that weekend, but still wanted him to know you remembered. 

When you shut the truck door behind you, you stopped dead in your tracks. Daryl was perched on his front porch railing, smoking a cigarette. You looked back into the truck to see Shane staring him down now. Had he pulled you in for a kiss because he knew it would be in front of him? Shane wouldn’t be that petty--no. But as you watched their stare down continue, you weren’t so sure.

Daryl wasn’t looking at you as you approached the house, but staring hard at the vehicle in his driveway. When you made your way up onto the porch, he finally turned his head to look at you, his glare still glacial on his face.

“I came to say goodbye,” you said quietly to him. You held out the cupcake to him, “and to say happy early birthday,” he looked down at the cupcake, and back up at you. Without saying anything he just looked back out at the truck, eyes narrowed. 

“Daryl, please,” you plead to him, lowering the cupcake. You don’t know what else to say, so you stood there, just waiting. Daryl brought the last of his cigarette up to his lips, still watching the truck. Once he had let out a long puff of smoke out to the sky, he hopped off the railing, putting the cigarette out on the wood, and walked right past you into his house. He made sure to slam the door behind him, the bones of the house shaking. You stared wide eyed at the door for a long moment, not sure what to do. You felt your face flush with heat, and before you would allow any moisture to gather in your eyes, you sat the cupcake down on the cigarette butt littered table by the door, and ran back out to the truck.

x Flash Forward x

By the time you and Daryl had made it back to your truck, there were pieces of ash and debris falling out of the sky already. He had gotten up off of you once the explosion had made its initial blow, bringing you up to your feet, only to turn and run to the cars at breakneck speed. So now, you’re finally reaching the truck door and swinging open the passenger side as he throws his crossbow and gun in before hopping in himself.

“You idiot! You absolute idiot! ” he was shouting at you, “the hell were you doin’ in there? You nearly exploded with the whole damn building!” 

He is shaking with rage as he waits for some sort of explanation from you. When you both turn to see Dale and Andrea make it to the RV, he reaches down to turn the key in the ignition. He rests his hand on the wheel, waiting to start moving, and looks over at you expectantly. 

“So did you!” you yell back at him.  “I was only in there ‘cause I was lookin’ for you after I didn’t see you come out with us!” his red face is livid, and spit flying as he yells. You are taken aback, sitting against your seat. With your hesitation, Daryl continues, “What the hell were you even doin? Forget a magazine ‘er somethin? Lip gloss left behind?” He starts moving ahead, behind the rest of the group's cars. His hands are white knuckling the steering wheel.

“Oh screw you, Daryl. I was looking for you , asshole.” you narrow your eyes and point an accusatory finger at him. Now it’s his turn to look stricken, so you continue, "I didn’t see you. I didn’t see anyone when I came out of my room. I had to—" you pause, trying to find the right words, "I couldn’t leave without… knowing for sure where you were." Your voice drops to a whisper. "I just needed to make sure no one else was in there," You end quietly, but with a sense of finality. You know what you really wanted to say, and hope he could read between the lines without making you say it out loud.  “Well don’t do anythin’ like that again,” he says quieter, “ Stupid. It’s stupid to risk your life for me, Y/L/N,” he says even quieter, almost to himself. 

“Back at you, Dixon ,” you say with sarcasm, folding your arms over your chest in annoyance. Rick’s voice suddenly comes over the radio on Channel 40 after a long stretch of silence between the two of you, and you reach down to turn up the volume.

“--gonna pull over here by these houses,” the bad connection breaks up his voice, “--some vehicles we can siphon some gas,” his voice is crackling from the static, but you’re able to make out the important information. Daryl pulls the truck up on the dirt driveway and looks over at you.

“‘m serious, Y/N. Never again.” he says seriously. You almost roll your eyes but think better of it, and just ignore him. Hopping out the passenger side, everyone is grabbing the gas cans, ready to see what they can find from the abandoned vehicles left behind. 

Shane is approaching both you and Daryl, and you stiffen, “We’re gon’ need to ration the gas we can find,” he says with authority to Daryl, “you okay with drivin’ the bike to save gas, we can take what’s left in the truck and use it for the RV?”

Daryl just nods, moving to the bed of his old beaten up truck to start unstrapping the motorcycle. You stand in front of Shane, who has his hands on his hips, looking down at you. 

“Listen Y/N,” he breathes, but you shake your head.

“Let’s just forget about it,” you say, whispering to him and shaking your head, “I don’t want to know what’s going on with you and Lori. It’s not my business,”

“Okay, but I–” he begins, but you hold up a hand, stepping directly in front of him to shield anyone’s prying eyes.

“But if you ever touch me like that again,” you seethe, your eyes filling with fire, “I will not hesitate. I will tell every member of this group what’s goin’ on and what you did. And I happen to know two people who would have a real problem with that information,” 

He stares down at you, his eyes hardening.

“You and me, Shane, whatever this is, whatever it was, is no longer. I can’t do it anymore. You crossed a line. A really fucking big line. I ain’t your ‘plaything’ anymore. I’ve had enough,” you finish, quoting his words from last night. You step away and turn before he can say anything else. Rick is watching the two of you, and when he looks over your shoulder, he nods to Shane, maybe in question, you can’t tell. You don’t care anymore. 

Daryl is sitting on Merle’s bike now, engine roaring to life. He walks it up as he sits, pulling in front of you, cutting off your path. He just shoots his head over his shoulder gently, waving you on. A silent understanding that he was done being mad at you. Without a word, you hop on, and grab him by the sides of his tattered sleeveless shirt. You look over to Shane, who watches Lori and Rick before Dale calls him to get into the RV. So, you have only three vehicles now: the RV, the hatchback, and the bike. You suppose the guys must’ve funneled the fuel they found and conserved what they could from the other two you had to leave behind. Until there was any chance of finding a camp, resources had just become very, very scarce.

You hear the RV start behind you, and Daryl leads the newly minimized caravan ahead to the highway.

Notes: yes I'm annoyed at the MFC too for getting back together with that asshole. But she must! For the plot!! She doesn't know any better! She's never had a father's love! yes it's a short chapter, I was emoshie over Daryl and you, okay??? and can we just have a moment for that pic of young Daryl????

Chapter 9 is here

[theyamjam]

ok before i propose to shane im gonna need to raise my sheep and become better friends with emily so that i can get some appropriate wedding clothes .imm not gett ing married in my 70s sweater

[homethelongwayaround]

Genuinely my main thing with the Watcher thing (I watch their stuff but I’d never consider myself a die hard fan) is that I really want to see the back end projections and business plans that went into this. Show me how their math mathed to the point that this seemed not just viable, but an improvement upon YouTube at this moment in time.

I’ve been watching it unfold all day and seeing the comparisons to Dropout, the unfortunate optics of reinstating the “let’s go eat stupidly expensive stuff” show as your first big new thing for the platform while also saying you don’t have money to do the “TV-quality” things you want, all that’s fine and dandy and not incorrect. But I just can’t see how this is financially going to win out.

I wish the boys the best, hope it works out for their sakes, and I hope regardless that one day we get an idea of what the decision making process was. Not the vague “ad revenue ain’t what it used to be” type comments they made in their very not-reading-the-room announcement video, but actual numbers. I’m super interested.

[coconut530]

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️Pride, 2024🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Lesbian flag colors taken from the flag made by Emily Gwen

[ask-shane]

Marnie pls drop the routine! Or does being beautiful as the night sky just run in your family?

(Hi mod!! How are you on this fine day?)

you have me blushing, anon! i don't work too much to retain my beauty... just some simple things. but being honest and kind to everyone is really the best routine. wink

[jestierabbit]

Waaah I’ve been so busy, if you couldn’t tell, but I am DETERMINED to continue Ostober so much— and hopefully other art as well!

[holographicbutch]

Ok I'm actually looking into all this drama with watcher and this shit is insane lmao

[hinakyuu]

1st intermission interview | habs @ kraken 221206

[shanecrowart]

THANK YOU

FINALLY

I’M SO SICK OF PEOPLE SAYING THAT DIRK-ROXY/JAKE-JANE(at least alpha) ARE RELATED WHEN THEY A R E N ‘ T

Yeah, someone tagged my other DirkRoxy art as d*rsecest and it bugged me a lot. They aren't even genetically related. It's alright to not like the ship, but come on.

[whookami]

The Try Guys need to take a page from the dudes at Watcher and replace Ned with a Puppet. No explanation. Just… next episode a puppet with a pink theme is the fourth Try Guy. The logistics might be hard, but look at all the shit the Jim Henson company has achieved, and also Puppet antics are cute as hell and instantly marketable as merchandise. Thank me later, Try Guys.

[the-kipsabian]

i actually for once want to do this in a playthrough so...

[puthyflapps]

Marja is trending on twitter and it amazes me that it took y’all 3 seasons to realize she’s a flop who doesn’t know what she’s doing with this show or these characters

I, however, have been a day one Marja-Loser Ryan hater

[crownspeaksblog]

I wouldn't have thought that it would take a character dying for shane to open up to her friends and actually says what she feels and what going on in her mind.

Shane spend 3 seasons bottling things up and never taking about what she's feels with her friends. So her taking Dana's death this hard that she's just crying so much and making not so good decision is heartbreaking to watch.

I don't think Carmen or Shane are ready for a marriage. I mean come on carmen saw shane with her ex and got so pissed, shane saw carmen flirting with men and immediately jumped to cheating and then carmen cheated as well and didn't say anything for a while. These two are not ready for a marriage.

Sadly i already know things aren't gonna work out between them so I'm not thrilled about the last episode...

[icannotgetoverbirds]

fanfic hell (/pos)

For those of you wondering what my brain's been chewing on for the past few months. I present to you my incredibly long fanfic.

How long, you may be wondering if you haven't seen the other post?

The low estimate is 154-253.5k.

The more accurate estimates are at about 308-338k.

The most generous estimates could be up to about 507k (assuming the intended goal of 169 chapters is reached).

For reference, Gone With The Wind tops out at just under 420k (haha nice).

Why? Why am I doing this? The answer is, I don't know.

Something about this story just has my brain chewing and chewing and chewing like an overdone but delicious steak that keeps giving you more and more flavor as you chew it.

Every time I think the plot's going to thin out and I'm going to have to give up or shorten this, my brain spits out more plot points to happen.

I have so many fucking notes and a decently well-documented source material to work with (the SDV wiki is pretty extensive).

Even the documentation of the source material that already exists isn't extensive enough for how ridiculously in-detail I'm going - so I'm spending at LEAST 6 fucking hours using a mod to record NPC paths, which I'll then manually input into those spreadsheets I was talking about. Some NPCs are going to get more content than the original source material gave them, so their schedules are going to have to be generated from scratch.

Mind you, this whole fic starts a year before the PCs even arrive. So not only do I have to figure out schedules for things that happen before the events of the game (such as Abigail exploring the farm and Elliott moving in), but I have to adjust schedules for Year 1 (or 2 depending on how you look at it) according to deviations from the source material.

Y'all can probably find this if you look hard enough for it, the first 8 (correction: 9) chapters are published on AO3 and I've been talking about some of the details on both my AO3 and my Tumblr account. The fic tags need updating since some new developments happened - I'll get to that eventually.

Anyways, those little lines and dots are just to indicate that Jackson and Apollo are both farmers. Yes, Apollo is a woman, despite her name. fuck your gender roles and gendered names she does what she wants. Yes, Maru is non-binary, because why the fuck not. Yes, Haley's trans because fuck the police.