Waitttt a minute — how WAS part 88 GOING to end??😰😰
You would have seen Shane getting up and leaving the room as soon as Harvey left 😭
But it felt very wrong and honestly I didn't like that brick lmao
I really like the change, it's like I'm understanding way more how the character would actually act the closer I get to making the part. I really believe Shane would break a little after traumatizing Jas, his heartfelt monologue to dream Elliott, and seeing how Marnie and Harvey care and are trying to find him solutions 🥺 Shows that he has a good heart and doesn't like rejecting everyone, he just feels like he has toooo (argh)
Harvey: SAYS LITERALLY WHO?! YOUR BOYFRIEND? YOUR AUNT? YOUR NIECE? YOUR FRIENDS? YOU THINK ANY OF US ARE GOING BEHIND YOUR COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW AWFUL THINGS ARE? NO! WE'RE WORRIED ABOUT YOU BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU DUMBASS!
Istg someone needs to slap him or yell at him or something
Being subtle hasnt worked, try being more blunt
Gaaaaaah
Lmaoo c'mon he clearly got through him a little (AND EMILY ALREADY TRIED THE SLAPS HAHA)
Also you guys are so spoiled and you don't even know it (this part used to end a lot darker and hopeless but I couldn't/wouldn't go through with it 😭) (at least now we can all imagine he ate some of his breakfast, yes yes 😔)
I’m making a 4 hour drive to visit a friend for the weekend, I look forward to having the shells update waiting for me like a reward for completing the journey
So, hi! It’s my first time doing something like that, so I’m not sure if I’m doing this correctly, but I have a question.
What was the first thing (in the game) that you noticed between the relationship of Shane and Elliott, that made you think like “Gosh, these two should just fuck already!
But… no, they have to suffer first, yeah, MUHAHAHAHHAHA!”
If it sounds like rude or something, just know that I didn’t mean it, English is not my strong suit. Thank you for the answer in advance! (Your story is fucking amazing)
Already answered why I ship them here and here :) As you know they have absolutely no relation whatsoever in the game so this all came out of my brain lmao
NOW AS TO WHY THEY GOTTA SUFFER... 😈 Those are the two most dramatic characters in the game so the tragic kinda writes itself lmaoo
I just love that dynamic where one is so pure and loving and the other so flawed and persuaded he's unlovable... like you GOTTA go the tragic route for a bit otherwise solving one's issues by just putting them in a relationship is kinda underwhelming and not the story I want to tell. One of the reason the comic is called Shells is that ya need to break Shane's shell to get his fluffy side (and he won't let me without a fight!!), so I'm currently doing that 😅
ALSO I'M SORRY BUT MAKING THEM CRY FEELS AMAZING MUHAHA
Omggg they're so cuteeee ahhhh! Hehehe thank you so much!! Love how you drew elliott's hair 😍 They'll have their happy beach episode one day, trust 🙏 haha
i've been thinking a lot about their little 'fight' at the beach, when shane says smth like "i think you were supposed to let go of me" and elliott replies with "i couldnt".... was that some kind of foreshadowing or just a crazy coincidence
Aaaaah I'm so happy you caught that you have no idea 😭 yesss this was definitely foreshadowing for this entire angst phase! Very VERY intentional
Explicit: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Depression, Suicide, Blowjob, Anal, Seriously the dove is dead I shot it myself
Words: 4,202
This time, it was for good. The mud on his face was sliding in his mouth, along with the rain, the puke, and the tears. His breath wasn't even forming plumes of steam anymore, like his soul had left him before his body turned cold. This time, it was for good.
That is why he was confused, and sour, when his eyes reopened, on a red blur, a symphony of machinery and people talking in what seemed to be another language entirely.
"He's coming to."
The red blur turned around. "Oh, thank Yoba!"
"The fuck?" Shane's furred mouth mumbled.
"Easy, easy. Do you know where you are?"
Shane blinked a few times, the white of the room blinding him. He licked his dry lips, the taste of grass, beer, and vomit, coating his cheeks. "No." he winced.
"You're in the clinic." The voice lifted his arm, checking on a sore spot Shane almost swatted at. "Don't struggle, I've had a hard time getting that stent in."
Fuck was he doing at the clinic when he should be dead.
"He'll be fine." Shane finally recognized Harvey, talking to the red blob. "You brought him just in time, Elliott, thank you."
Elliott?! What was the writer doing over there late at night?
"No, thank you, Harvey. You brought him back to us."
"You brought him to me!" he laughed, a friendly slap on Elliott's shoulder. "Now, go rest."
Once Shane was in his own bed, the taste of that night away, the bitter aftertaste that Elliott had found his stupid ass wanting to die was strangely digging on his tongue. It was embarrassing. Out of everyone in Pelican Town, why him? Why anyone? He wanted to die. He simply wanted to die! Maybe make a mental note that the cliff wasn't effective enough, next time. Ha. He just wanted to die for Yoba's sake, not be saved like a desperate heroine from one of Elliott's stupid books. Fuck what if the words player was going to use him in his writing now? That was even worse than anything else!
So Shane was on his way to the writer's cabin, feet lazily shuffling on the cobblestone path to the bridge. The whole town knew already, the whole town had pitiful eyes locked on him, he didn't want weeping readers added to the pile, reading about a bum's woe. Of course they wouldn't know it'd him, but he'd know. He'd know too well.
The fog coming from the beach enveloped him in a thin sheen of salt, and he breathed in the sea air, the scent managing to raise the corner of his lips, ever so slightly. Planting his feet in the sand, in front of the wooden door, he inhaled sharply, his hand ready to knock.
"Oh, Shane, can I help you?"
Shane jumped, of course the writer would be up and about already, not like him who just rots in bed nursing a hangover or just chewing the thoughts festering in his sick mind constantly repeating the same facts he already knows - how much of a piece of shit he is.
"Huh, no, I mean, yeah." Shane looked at his shoes, kicking some of the sand quickly flying away with the wind. He looked up at who he came to visit, his long red hair were floating behind him like a veil, some of the strands lashing his face like on of those mermaids in some of Jas' books. Of course he didn't have the whole clam bra thing on, but his shirt definitely deserved an award for resisting popping out because of the proud chest he was somehow always puffing.
Shane wondered what it was like, to feel proud, to lift his head up, smile at the crowd. Sure would do wonder for his neck.
He looked again, at wind swept Elliott, expectantly looking right at him, into him. "I…I figured I owed you a lunch or somethin' to thank you for, err, last week."
"Oh! I would be delighted to share a meal with you. But please, let's just call it a friendly luncheon."
"Sure." Shane replied with a shrug. Whatever he wanted really, Shane hadn't prepared anything to say on the matter anyway.
"Let me put down my notebooks, and I'm all yours." Elliott said, walking past Shane who stumbled backward on the sand.
Elliott's hair smelled of the sea air, the mist, and something comfortable, like a nap under a fruit tree.
"You keeping that one?" Shane pointed, when Elliott reappeared out of his cabin and put a small notebook in his jacket's pocket.
"Why, yes of course!" he laughed, tapping on his chest where the small diary was resting. "A writer always needs something to write on, you never know when the muse will descend and slip an idea in my head!"
Shane chortled, this guy was never toning it down. Be it with inspiration, or infuriating smile and friendly dispositions. Overly friendly, even, Shane kept thinking. And if Elliott had been friend with Shane, at all, he would have hopefully realized what trash he truly was and how he didn't deserved to be brought to the clinic at all. Let him rot and die on the side of the cliff, hopefully for his decaying corpse to fall down to the water.
But no, he had to play the good Samaritan. Save his sorry ass. Haul his disgusting guts all the way to the fucking clinic. He probably felt some guilt or whatnot, thinking 'everyone deserves a second chance' or some bullshit like that. Maybe everyone else, but not him, not Shane.
"What can I get you two?" Gus asked as they sat down in the booth.
Shane nodded to the writer. "Go ahead, t's'on me."
"A glass of red wine?" Gus said, leaning on the booth.
"Oh, dear, no, not this time, no. Hum, please get me some of those crab cakes, and a pomegranate seltzer."
Shane raised an eyebrow. He knew the ginger's liking for wine. "Hey, don't stop yerself from enjoying some wine on my stupid ass." he chuckled. "I'll get a pizza." he added to Gus, sending him away.
Surprisingly, Elliott blushed. "I do apologize. I…"
"Nah you're fine. Finding my sorry bastard self drunk that night probably put you off th'booze for a while."
"I can't say it didn't rattle me." Elliott smiled. "I'm simply grateful to whichever entity that led me to find your, erm, non-stupid 'ass' out there on the cliff."
Shane grabbed the back of his neck, looking away. "Musta been a sorry sight." he mumbled.
"Oh, indeed you were!" Elliott laughed, making Shane join in an awkward chuckle. "I have been known to romanticize issues I do not understand, but finding you have been quite the wake up call."
Shane perked up. "Actually, that's what I kinda wanted to talk t'you about."
"Please, do go on."
"I know you, like, write about stuff y'know n' junk… Or get inspired by stuff, I don't know, stuff you read or somethin'."
Elliott placed his blushing face on his hand, looking intensely at Shane fumbling his words, trying really hard to get his thoughts into one place. What a mess of knots it must be, up there.
"I mostly do get inspired by real life, it's true. Why?"
"I know the whole town's been gossiping 'bout my sorry ass for the past week, and that, I can deal with. But if y'like, put a sad bum in your next novel…"
Elliott burst out laughing, making Shane blush, wanting to disappear in his collar and into the booth.
"Dear! I would be lying to myself if I told you now that this…incident didn't grease up some thinking gears up there." he said, pointing at the luscious hair on his head. "If I were to ever use such a gut-twisting event in my stories I…Oh dear Shane I would never!"
Shane snorted, the pompous beach dweller really had a thesaurus up his arse. "What I'm sayin' is…" He sighed, looking on his side, the booth bench that needed some tape or whatnot to keep the foam from escaping more. The heat of Elliott's hand on his own startled him, and when he looked back up, Elliott was piercing him with his green eyes.
"I'm sorry, Shane." he started. "I could never claim to know what you have been through, or what you are dealing with. And finding you like this, well, as, mh, as 'traumatic' as it was, I cannot take away the shadows that were hovering over you that night."
Shane blinked a few times, not quite sure of what Elliott was saying. It sounded…nice? Somehow? At least, that's how Elliott's hand on his felt.
Shane quickly retrieved his hand as Gus appeared with their order, which Elliott noticed.
"I didn't picture you so…coy." he said with a smirk, dipping his lips in the fruity bubbles of his drink.
"Gonna make me want a drink." Shane replied quickly.
"Oh, was that why you were drinking?" Elliott asked, ready to pick up his notebook, before he realized what he had just asked. "Forgive me. That was insensitive of me."
"I mean, kinda? Like, making things numb up in there n' stuff so, in a way?" Shane shrugged as Elliott nodded. "I'm, like, I'm fucked up, y'know? Harvey got all his fancy words and diagnosis but the bottom line is I'm fucked." he added, matter of factly, grabbing a steaming slice of pizza. "And to shut my brain up, my fucked up brain, booze had never failed, right?"
"I see." Elliott listened, dissecting his crab cakes with his fork. "How do you…Mh. How are you doing?"
"Fuckin' terribly thanks." Shane chuckled, a string of cheese falling on his chin he wiped with his sleeve. "But huh, I hope the meal's worth hauling my fatass to the doc."
"Oh, Shane." Elliott smirked. "Seeing you there in front of me is worth more than enough."
Shane managed not to visibly choke on a slice of pepperoni, fiercely blushing under his stubble.
"Yeah, well, yeah." he coughed a few times. "I s'pose you weren't picturing a sad meal with me talkin' 'bout my 'mental health.'"
Elliott laughed. "No, that is true. Then again, I'm a writer, my imagination is known to go to the wildest places."
"And yet, you end up here." Shane chortled, hiding a burp in his fist, and pushed his empty plate. "Pretty drab compared to that brain of yours."
"I can imagine grandeur and beautiful places, but it is always so lacking in… How shall I put it…" He stroke his strong chin, straightening up on the uncomfortable booth. "In realness? Real people? And who are the truest people than inhabitants of such a small town!"
"So you, like, observe us?"
"I suppose I do."
Shane stayed silent, trying to imagine what it would be like to observe someone like him, trying to think about what Elliott could have gathered on his miserable life just by looking at his dreadful routine. He wasn't much to look at, and it wouldn't surprise Shane that Elliott would prefer to look at the many others in town.
It had a bitter taste.
But now, Shane knew he had something more than all the other boring residents, especially when Elliott accepted a second round of non-alcoholic drinks, and the talks lasted hours.
"I think it's time for me to call it a night." Elliott smiled, looking at the clock above the bar. "Dear, have we been yapping for this long?"
Shane nodded, stretching. "'Fraid so." he yawned. "Was nice."
"It really was! Are you heading out with me, or staying for another ginger ale?"
"Imma head out too, you enabler." Shane elbowed the writer. "Marnie will wonder if I'm not in a ditch somewhere." he laughed.
"I would find you in there, she shan't worry!"
The two laughing crossed the door to the night, the street lamps already all on, the houses' windows plunged in the dark. They walked in silence until the stone bridge where they would have to separate. Elliott prepared himself to wish Shane goodnight when he pushed him against the trees bordering the river.
"Shane, what on earth-" Shane big hand was quick on his mouth, the other unbuttoning his green vest.
"I know fucking crab cakes wouldn't cut it." Shane whispered. "And your stupid velvet trousers hide nothin'"
Elliott pushed Shane's strong hand away from his face. "I thought you would never take the hints." he grinned, his hand in Shane's dark hair, watching him unbuckle his belt before kneeling in front of him. He let himself be handled, quite excited to see how Shane would compare to the others.
To Elliott's surprise, Shane was very diligent, slowly licking his length, coating him of his saliva and damp breath, his deep green eyes up to his. His mouth was so soft, so warm, and Elliott raised his head up to the tree, Shane taking him entirely, his tongue tracing his underside each time he pulled out, his big hand fondling him, finding the sweaty skin between his thighs. It wasn't in Elliott's habit to receive blow jobs against a tree at night, right in the open, but it seemed fitting for Shane of all people. Something as sneaky, forbidden, almost, obscene. So obscene.
With a whimper, Elliott kept Shane against his ginger curls, coating his throat with ropes of hot cum bursting out of Shane's lips, dripping from his chin. Elliott nails were digging in the tree trunk as he finally came down, stars in his eyes he let fall on Shane now standing up.
"We even, now?" Shane chortled and wiped the cum off his face.
"Not by a mile." Elliott replied, his hand on Shane's shoulder. "Giving me a petite mort to thank me for getting you out of the rain feels… unpoetic."
"What the hell are you talking about."
Elliott leaned to Shane's befuddled face, and softly kissed his tainted lips, gently pressing his hands on his chest underneath his ragged hoodie, inviting himself underneath the fabric, bunching up Shane's jersey into his wanting hands.
"Still doesn't tell me what you're talkin' about…" Shane said in a raspy exhales, shivering at Elliott knowledgeable hands.
"Mmh, subtlety is my strongest suit, but I am not a man known to sneer at more…'direct' approaches." Elliott smirked, pleased by Shane's sudden squeal at his hand cupping his erection. "Especially when dealt with such impressive assets." he added with a surprised smile. "Care to show me? I might think someone is stuffing…"
Shane roared in laughter. He took Elliott's hand in his, pushing him to take him in his entirety. "It's the real thing, can guarantee you that." he whispered, with a conviction and confidence unknown to Elliott, who was quite pleased to see this side of Shane actually blossoming. "If you're invitin' me in your cabin there-"
"Oh, please." Elliott replied, his lips, his teeth, softly tugging at Shane's skin on his face, his chin, his jaw, finding his ear to whisper: "My mattress needs the imprint of us both."
"Are you going to Elliott's again?" Marnie asked, her elbow deep in the microwave she was cleaning. "Isn't he tired of you by now." she adds as her nephew nodded.
"I bet he wouldn't mind telling me if he was." Shane said as he pushed his foot inside his shoe. "That's what's nice with him y'know. No roundabout, aside from the damn words he uses." he laughed.
"You sure are brighter since he pulled you out." Marnie sighed. "Don't…You know…" she sighed again, it wouldn't be the first time she was thinking it was a tad too fast for Shane to jump in, what, a relationship? Something purely physical? She didn't know what they agreed on, and it was marvelous to see how Shane had stopped thinking about the last thing even remotely close to alcohol but… "Just stay safe, alright?"
"I've had the sex talk like twenty years ago Marn'" Shane snorted. "Y'know, t's'like riding a bicycle."
Marnie cleared her throat. "That's not what I meant." a small string of awkward laughs came out of her twisted mouth. "Are you keeping up with therapy?" she eventually managed to ask as Shane was ready to head out.
"Marn'?"
"Are you?"
The calm, hay-filled, air of the ranch became thicker. "It wasn't…like… Felt like a waste."
"Shane! Take your diagnosis more seriously!"
The words started flying again, louder than the others, who was she to pretend to know better, who was he to throw her help in the garbage.
"So I told her she can go snitch on Harvey all she wants, don't give a damn."
"Mmhmm." Elliott filled the two cups in front of him on the low kitchen counter. A kitchen pedestal table at that, but it worked in his little shack on the beach. Shane had remarked a few times these past months that he probably needed more appliances, but Elliott never felt lacking. "I'm sorry to hear that." he said, handing one of the steaming cup to Shane sitting on his bed.
"T's'always nice talking to you." Shane admitted, his ears turning a deeper pink. "Feel like you listen."
"Well, thank you." Elliott replied, blowing on his cup and sitting next to Shane. "How's the tea?"
"Terrible as always." Shane snorted. "It's warm, t's'all I need right now."
"Oh." Elliott frowned. "I thought you liked this tea?"
"No, told you a few times already." he chuckled, taking another sip. "But it's fine don't sweat it."
"I'm sorry, my shooting star. How could I make it up to you?"
Shane was now a few shades redder, and even torture wouldn't get him to admit he adored Elliott's use of 'shooting star' for him. It made him feel special, magical, a sight people were actually looking for in the darkness of the sky. And it was all he needed.
"I have a few ideas." he whispered, taking Elliott's cup from his warm hand, carefully placing it and his own on the wooden floor almost covered in sand. In the silence of the cabin, punctuated by the seagulls outside and the calm rhythm of the sea, Shane covered Elliott's neck in kisses, attentive to his sighs, his breathing picking up. Shane had learned what was working for Elliott, and finding the pulse on his neck to gently drape it in open kisses was easily the best thing to get him started.
"My shooting star…" The redhead moaned, turning his head to catch Shane's lips.
Quickly, just as usual, their clothes fell to the floor, like a well rehearsed routine Shane knew where to place himself, where to put his hands, how to behave, what to say, how to react. Elliott was molding him, shaping him, and he was letting himself handled, a new, fresh, lump of clay ready to be remodeled by his redhead savior. Shane knew he was safe under his hands, that he was the rain, the cooling drizzle, falling on the drought of his mind, his never ending whirlpool of diseased words, thoughts, visions.
"Elliott…" he murmured as Elliott pushed his legs up to his chest, ready to receive his length. He winced, the burn of his lover pushing himself to the limit, impatient, "Fuck…" Shane couldn't discern pain from pleasure anymore, all he knew was that Elliott was inside him, and moving against him, above him. His red hair cascading on him, like feathers on his sweaty face, like a curtain to the true self he was when Elliott was looking at him with adoring eyes instead of everyone else's judging ones.
Sweat was falling from Elliott's forehead, working with all his might between Shane's legs, delighted by his growls, his grunts, telling him how close he was, captivated by his resolve, his want, to receive him, to buck his hips just right, even if it was uncomfortable.
Shane swears and groans rivaled with the squeaky bed, his cum painting his hairy chest, Elliott's hips stuttering against his red ass to fill him up, their half-lidded eyes locked into each other before Elliott fell to the side, moving his hair out of his breathless face.
Just as usual, Shane stretched his legs, the bliss of feeling Elliott's cum tickling down his skin showing on his smile. And just like always, he blindly searched for Elliott's hand on top of the duvet, caressing the top with his rough thumb, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. And as usual Elliott stood up on shaking legs, quietly observed by Shane marveling at the writer's body, and grabbed his green jersey to hand it to him.
"Thanks." Shane smiled. He sat up, turning to the edge of the bed where his feet almost knocked over the two now cold tea cups. "I love you."
The seagulls were as loud, and the waves weren't stopping from the endless motion of the sea, as Elliott turned to Shane, slipping back into his boxers. "Pardon?"
"I…" Shane inhaled, hand on the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, stuck with a dry gulp. "Eli I, I…I love you…"
Elliott inhaled sharply too, his mouth twisted in a concerned pout. "Since…since when?"
"I…I dunno…"
"Shane, I-"
"Forget I said anythin', ok? Just….forget it." Shane quickly stood up, effectively knocking down one of the cup on the cheap wooden floor.
"No, no, Shane please sit down." Elliott calmly said. He wrapped himself in his nightgown and came to sat down next to Shane whose legs were bouncing so hard they might break the floorboards. "You…love me?" he asked, his hand jointed between his legs.
"I, well, dunno, think I do…"
"You don't." Elliott said, without any nonsense, any fluff, any safety net. "At least, what you feel is not love."
"But-"
"Shane, we had fun. But this is not love."
"Eli…"
Elliott sighed, a friendly hand on Shane's shoulder. "I am sorry if I let anything out making you think there were any feelings involved. You do not love me, let's that be clear. It is not love"
Shane lower lip began to tremble. How could it not? The warm embrace, the sensation of being swaddled in a cozy blanket every time Elliott had his eyes on him, that could not be an illusion. Could it? Besides, he saved him, surely the way he expressed his thanks could not…
"This is complicated, and I know you will need to discuss this with your therapist-"
"I stopped going." Shane sniffled, pretty certain he told him before they made lo- before they had sex.
"Oh. Sorry to hear that." Elliott cleared his throat. "Your only way of showing your appreciation to me was by letting me physically use you. And I was fine with that, don't get me wrong, the sex was positively marvelous. The best I've had in months, truth be told. But that's all it was. Sex."
"Was?"
The sea breeze that usually filled the gaps of the cabin weren't reaching Shane who started to suffocate. Was it true? Had he left Elliott use him as thanks for pulling him away from the cliff? Was all this just misplaced infatuation for a man who showed Shane a sliver of tenderness he had to jump on it?
Elliott's hand slipped from his shoulder to his hand resting on his bouncing leg. He brought it to his lips to leave a faint kiss. "It was, truly, magical, my shooting star." Elliott smiled, genuinely.
Shooting star, Shane repeated in his head. Passing, short-lived, a fancy, a temporary trace in the black sky caught with a glimpse, and forgotten forever. How had he not realized sooner. He was Elliott's shooting star. He always had been.
"I…"
"I'm sorry Shane, but it was fun, wasn't it?"
Shane nodded, his cheeks hurting from keeping the tears in.
"Besides, I am a much better distraction than any of the liquor you used to absorb." Elliott added with a laugh, standing up to grab Shane's clothes scattered around the bed. "So, it's not all for naught."
Shane nodded again, thinking about the numbness that followed the simulated warm duvet that liquor used to envelop him in. He had jumped from one wild horse to another. He wasn't better, how could he? Ever?
"Anyway, Shane. Trust me, I do not wish to throw you out, but-"
"No, no, I get it." Shane replied, already dressed, his dirty deeds sticking between his chest and his jersey. The remnant of the joke he was entertaining.
"Take care, my good friend." Elliott waved, and closed the door.
Shane wasn't better. How could he.
The silence of the Valley, disturbed by the soothing birds, the rhythmic clanking from the forge, the whispers and laughter of unofficial meetings under the tree, was rattled throughout the whole greenery in a cacophony of metal, screeches, whistles.
What the residents had always welcomed as a quaint little noise from afar, from the tracks, became the clamor of all that was dark.
Sebastian was seen, pale as ever, running down, stopped by the crowd.
"What the hell happened?"
"It's Shane!" The young man started. "He jumped in front of the train."
