Sdv Bachelorettes - Blog Posts

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝙳𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝 𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎

Farmer: *leaning on their hoe, sighing deeply* Damn, I’m so useless.

Abigail: *bursts through a wall like the Kool-Aid Man* WHO SAID THAT?!

Sebastian: *appears from the shadows* YOU WANNA TRY THAT LINE AGAIN?!

Sam: *backflips off his skateboard* OH HELL NO!

Shane: *launches a beer can across the farm* THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!

Harvey: *running in, stethoscope flying* EXCUSE ME, THAT IS A MEDICAL LIE!

Elliott: *dramatic gasp flipping his hair* HOW DARE YOU INSULT YOURSELF IN SUCH A WAY?!

Haley: *lowers her sunglasses* That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

Leah: *grabbing their hands gently* You are nature’s masterpiece, don’t you ever forget it.

Alex: *flexing aggressively* YOU’RE STRONG AS HELL, DON’T MAKE ME GIVE YOU A PEP TALK!

Penny: *clutching a book* You are worthy of love and respect, Farmer!

Maru: *holding a literal blueprint for an invention called "Farmer Confidence Booster 3000"* I BETTER START BUILDING THIS!

Emily: *already mid-dance to cleanse the negativity* BEGONE, NEGATIVE ENERGY! I CLEANSE THIS FARM WITH THE POWER OF YOBA!

Krobus: *somehow appearing from the sewers* I DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND HUMAN EMOTIONS BUT I KNOW THAT'S WRONG.

Pierre: *stepping out of his shop* Yes, even I think—!

Caroline: *dragging him back inside* PIERRE, READ THE ROOM.

Wizard: *literally appears in a cloud of smoke* THAT IS A DANGEROUS FALSEHOOD, FARMER.

Linus: *nodding wisely from the mountains* You are part of nature’s balance. Never forget that.

Other Marriage Candidates: *crash through windows, doors, appears through a portal or possibly even from underground* SAY THAT AGAIN, WE DARE YOU!

Farmer: *overwhelmed, hands up* Okay! I take it back! Damn, that worked a little too well…

Gus: *sliding a drink over* Yeah, don’t do that again. We almost lost half the Saloon to a riot.

A/N: After reading @studentinpursuitofclouds headcanon about the bachelors/ettes' reactions to being kidnapped for revenge or ransom only for their furious Farmer spouse to storm in and rescue them. I felt inspired. I couldn’t help but write a version for Lance, blending it with my farmer OCs' backstories. Hope you enjoy the fic!

The moon loomed high over the farmhouse, casting its pale, silver glow across the quiet fields. The night was still, almost unnervingly so, with only the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. The greenhouse stood as a lone beacon in the darkness, its glass panels faintly aglow, sheltering a world of warmth and life separate from the cool hush outside. Inside, Rosemary moved among rows of flourishing crops, the earthy scent of soil and faint hum of lingering magic surrounding her. Yet, despite the comforting atmosphere, a knot of unease twisted tightly in her chest.

Lance should be home by now.

He had left at dawn, that familiar confident grin on his face, promising—promising—to return before sunset. She had believed him. Lance always kept his word. But now, as the hours stretched long past nightfall, the promise felt like a fading echo.

A message had come earlier, brief and reassuring. But Rosemary’s instincts screamed otherwise. She brushed her gloved fingers over the rough skin of a void root. The dark, twisted form seemed to absorb the soft light, pulsing faintly with ancient magic. She tried to focus on the task at hand—on the routine—but her thoughts kept circling back to one question.

Why isn’t he back?

Her pruning slowed. Water dripped from a nearby watering can. The silence grew thick.

Then it happened.

A chill—sharp and sudden—sliced down her spine.

Her breath hitched.

Her gloved hand froze mid-motion.

It wasn’t a sound. Not a shadow shifting in the corner of her vision. No. This was deeper. Internal. Like something inside her had snapped.

No...

The comforting aura of Lance’s magic, ever-present beside her own like a steady heartbeat—had vanished.

Gone.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“No.”

The word escaped her lips in a broken whisper. The trowel slipped from her hand, clattering against the stone path. A ragged cry tore from her throat as she stumbled back. Her gaze snapped toward the hills beyond the farmhouse. She reached inward—desperately—trying to find the familiar pulse of his magic.

There. Faint. So faint.

But still there.

A gasp tore from her.

Lance...

Alive. Barely conscious. But alive. Reaching for her.

Her hands fumbled for her phone. The screen blurred before her eyes as her fingers darted across it, moving faster than her mind could process. Only one number mattered.

The line rang once. Twice.

“Rosie?”, Her sister’s voice answered calm as ever, but edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Cerise!!! I can’t feel him.” Rosemary’s voice cracked. “His magic! it’s gone—I don’t know what’s happening, what does it mean?”

Silence.

A silence that stretched for only a moment but felt like a lifetime.

When Cerise finally spoke, her tone had shifted, cool, sharp, edged with something Rosemary rarely heard from her sister: fear.

“No… they wouldn’t.” The words came as a whisper. Then, sharper, cold with realization: “Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon.”

Rosemary’s grip tightened around the phone.

“They must've took him.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“They took my husband.”

This time, her voice was low, dangerous, a quiet fury simmering beneath each syllable.

Cerise inhaled sharply on the other end of the line. “Most likely. If they couldn’t get my Jio, their next move would be—”

“I’m going.”

“Rose—”

“I’m not waiting around, sister.” Rosemary’s jaw tightened. Her ocean jade eyes—usually bright and warm—narrowed into cold flames of determination. “I’m getting my husband back. Whatever it takes.”

”Rosemary, wait—”

But the call had already ended.

Without hesitation, Rosemary snatched up her sword from the greenhouse floor. The blade thrummed with her magic, responding to her rage. She pulled on her dark cloak, fastened the clasp at her neck, and slung a pouch of potions over her shoulder.

She stepped out into the night.

She didn’t need a plan.

Only a direction.

Lance’s faint magic—like a whisper at the edge of her mind—would guide her.

“Hold on, love” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m coming.”

And nothing would stand in her way.

The room reeked of damp stone and stale air, a subterranean prison swallowed by oppressive darkness. The narrow space was barely lit by a flickering lantern that hung from a rusted chain in the corner, its dim glow casting trembling shadows across the concrete walls slick with condensation. The ceiling sagged low, pressing down like a weight upon the soul. The air itself was suffocating, thick with the scent of mold and the faint, undeniable metallic tang of old blood. A chill seeped from the stone floor, gnawing at the skin, while the silence—broken only by the rhythmic drip of water echoing from some distant corridor—felt almost unnatural. But worse than the cold or the damp was the lingering, suffocating aura of magic that clung to every surface, woven into the very air. It was a cruel enchantment, designed to sap strength, to suppress power. And it was working.

Lance shifted in the chair he had been bound to, the rough rope digging into his wrists. His head hung low, dark pink hair falling messily into his face. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, sharp and insistent, growing worse with each breath drawn in the magic-saturated air. His eyes flickered open with slow, deliberate effort. His arms ached from the tight restraints that hummed faintly with the same suppressive power in the room. Even the smallest attempt to draw upon his magic was met with resistance, a suffocating weight that dulled the spark he relied on.

A breath slipped from his lips—slow, frustrated, bitter.

The Second-in-Command of the First Slash Clan, renowned combat mage, captured.

Not by a rival clan worthy of his strength. Not in battle against some formidable foe.

No, by a group of low-ranking mafia thugs who had no comprehension of the power they were trifling with.

The humiliation stung, but it wasn’t the real issue gnawing at him. His pride could endure this. What he could not endure was the knowledge he had failed. Failed to see the ambush coming. Failed to protect what mattered most. With all his training, all his magical prowess, he should have burned through these restraints with a flick of his wrist. But this room—the entire place—reeked of the kind of magic meant to weaken him, suppress him, render him vulnerable.

Still, it wasn’t his own fate that consumed his thoughts.

It was hers.

The realization cut deeper than any blade.

They weren’t after him.

They were after Rosemary.

He had heard them, muffled voices beyond the door, carelessly assuming he was too weak, too broken to care. But he had listened. Every word. Every plan. The truth had struck him harder than any blow. They believed that taking him would draw her out. They thought Rosemary would come running, desperate and vulnerable—a perfect trap.

But they didn’t know her.

They didn’t know Rosemary.

She wasn’t some fragile woman to be lured like a helpless bird. She had Cerise’s blood in her veins—the blood of the Crimson Wraith.

And worse still, they didn’t simply want to use her as bait. No. Their plan was far more twisted. They wanted her alive. They wanted to mold her into a weapon—a new puppet assassin forged from the only sister of the Crimson Wraith.

The thought made Lance’s jaw tighten, his fingers twitching against the ropes. His entire being recoiled at the idea of anyone laying a hand on her. His Rosemary. His wife. The woman who had fought for her freedom, who had lived in the shadow of her sister’s bloody past but had never allowed it to define her. They thought they could twist her into something she wasn’t.

The audacity.

The rage brewed quietly beneath his composed exterior, his magic stirring despite the oppressive weight. He would burn this place to ash for even daring to think of touching her.

The door creaked open.

Rusty hinges groaned like a dying animal, breaking the stillness.

Lance lifted his head, eyes narrowing as two figures stepped into the dim light. One was tall, broad-shouldered, with a jagged scar slashing across his cheek—a permanent sneer carved into his skin. The other remained near the door, arms crossed, eyes dull with boredom.

The scarred man grinned, a slow, mocking curve of his lips.

“You know.” he drawled, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t married that red-haired bitch. We didn’t want you. You were never the target.”

He crouched, bringing his face close enough that Lance could smell the foul mix of tobacco and cheap liquor on his breath.

“We wanted her sister. Cerise. She was... valuable to us. But she escaped. Left everything behind, dragging her little sister along like a coward.”

His grin widened, malicious satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“But now? We have something better. You see, we realized something. What better way to replace the Crimson Wraith than with her own blood? We’ll take your precious wife, and turn her into the perfect weapon. Our new puppet.”

The words echoed in the damp room.

Lance didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. His face remained calm, far too calm.

But inside?

How dare you.

The air shifted.

Even bound and suppressed, his magic stirred, a quiet storm gathering, waiting. The ropes bit into his wrists, but they were nothing more than an inconvenience. He would burn this entire place to the ground before he let them touch her.

And then—

Footsteps.

At first faint, almost mistaken for an echo. But then louder. Steady. Unyielding.

The two mafia members stiffened. Their smug confidence faltered.

The pressure in the air built, thick and suffocating. The flickering lantern dimmed, shadows crawling further along the walls. The footsteps didn’t slow.

They grew louder. Closer.

And then—

The door exploded inward.

Wood shattered into splinters. The force of the blast sent fragments clattering across the stone floor. The oppressive magic that had choked the room recoiled instantly. For a moment, the air itself seemed to fear the figure standing in the doorway.

Rosemary stood there—fury incarnate.

Her rose-red hair blazed in the dim light, cascading behind her like a river of flame. Ocean jade eyes burned with unrelenting rage and fear, swirling with power she no longer cared to conceal. The aura surrounding her crackled with raw magic—a tempest on the brink of being unleashed.

“Where...”, she whispered, her voice low, trembling with restrained wrath, “Is my husband?”

The scarred man stumbled back. “Oh shit-!” he muttered in disbelief, glancing at his companion.

But the moment he moved—

Rosemary vanished.

A flash of purple swept through the air. Her blade glinted once, a crescent of death cutting through the dim light. With a scream, the scarred man flew backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening crunch. The second man barely had time to react before Rosemary descended on him with relentless precision. Her strikes were merciless—graceful yet devastating. Every movement spoke of years of training, of lessons carved into muscle and bone.

They had expected a weak sister.

They received a force of nature.

The second man crumpled to the floor without a sound.

Silence fell.

Lance remained still, his gaze fixed on the woman who had torn apart his captors without hesitation. His heart thundered in his chest—not out of fear, but awe. She had come for him. She had shattered their illusions. She was magnificent.

Rosemary turned.

Her gaze softened the moment it met his. The fury faded, replaced by something far deeper—fear, worry, desperation.

“Lance.”

Her voice broke.

In two strides, she was beside him, dropping to her knees. Her hands reached for his face first, trembling as they brushed against his skin, as if afraid he would vanish.

“Are you—did they—?” Her voice cracked, unable to form the question.

“I’m fine.” His voice was soft but firm, though his smile faded when he saw the tears shining in her eyes.

“No, you’re not.” She gritted her teeth, glancing at the glowing restraints. Without hesitation, her fingers tightened around the ropes. Magic pulsed through her veins, rushing to her hands.

The ropes hissed.

With a surge of power and a cry laced with all the fear and rage she had suppressed, Rosemary ripped them apart. The restraints shattered into ash beneath her touch.

Lance didn’t move. He simply watched her—watched as she clung to him, as her shoulders shook.

“I thought—” she choked out, “I thought I was too late.”

Gently, Lance wrapped his arms around her.

“You weren’t.”

She buried her face in his chest. “I would have destroyed this whole place if they’d laid a hand on you.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You were perfect.”

“No.” She pulled back slightly, her ocean jade eyes locking onto his, fierce even through the tears. “Not perfect. Just in time.”

And when Lance leaned forward to press his lips to hers, tender lingering. It wasn’t simply relief that filled the space between them.

It was a promise.

A promise that no matter who came for them next, no matter what shadows lurked in the past, they would face them—together.

Me: *spots a ridiculously hot elf man* Ooooh, a new NPC to add to my collection.

Brain: *sighs* You do realize this means making another farmer OC, right?

Me: *eyes sparkling* I don’t care. He’s so hot. Like Jio with tattoos. Approachable, mysterious, and an elf who seems like he’d hold a conversation instead of just brooding. But hey- Jio’s still my ultimate elf man. Loyalty matters. This guy’s just... bonus content.

Brain: Ma’am. You already have six farmer OCs. SIX. It took you an hour to make your last one just because you wanted to romance that gridball player for that immersive mod!

Me: *shrugs* Yeah, but I haven’t made a farmer with jet black hair or brunette yet.

Brain: And you’re forgetting you’ve got perfectly good farmer designs reserved for a certain mean cold adventurer.

Me: *glaring* Shut. Up. I’m taking this elf man.

Brain: *deadpan* You should really download that Free Love mod.

Me: *thinks* Nah, I’m a one-romance-at-a-time kind of player.

Brain: Uh-huh. You do realize you’re about to create a whole new OC backstory, right?

Me: *staring into the distance, deep in thought* Shuuush... already thinking of a new farmer design.

Brain: Unbelievable. Truly, unbelievable.

Tohtalem OC: Progress!

I finally got our Elf to load in game with a custom map/location and a couple of events! My friend and I will be filling in more dialogue and events over the next few weeks, I'm just so happy the base character is done!!

First week, no-heart dialogue

When you think you've finally settled on the NPC you want to marry, but then you meet another interesting character and suddenly want to pursue them too. You’re curious about their story, but your heart won’t let you divorce your current spouse—so you start a new save file. Then another. Each one with a different farmer OC, each with their own love interest and story. Before you know it, you've built an entire farming game world where your OCs coexist. And now, every time you find another NPC attractive, you have to create yet another OC, complete with a backstory, personality, and design… until it becomes a full-blown creative headache. 😵

I don't know if I'm being late to notice this in the new update. When I had my farmer attend the Luau Festival on the beach, I couldn't help but notice that everything looked different. The NPC's have changed their spots, and the Luau Potluck has switched places with the dance floor. Though it took me some time to notice the change, I have to admit that I really like the new arrangement! 😮✨🏖️🍲

Farmer: *can't find Sebastian in town*

Farmer: Dammit! I can't find him anywhere. This calls for drastic measures.

Farmer: *inhales and uses hand as a microphone* THE FARMER SUCKS!!!

Sebastian: *comes out from his room basement* THE FUCK-

Shane: *across JojaMart Bldg* DID YOU-

Sam: *crashes through the window using his skateboard* JUST-

Other Marriage Candidates: SAY!

Farmer: Eeek, that worked a little too well...

Other Townspeople: *others find this amusing, annoying or secretly recording the scene from the start and post it on their social media*

I like the read the marriage/general dialouge of the stardew valley bachelors and Bachelorettes, INCLUDING the mod bachelor/ettes which also has the dialouge for them on the fandom wiki page. (Like ridgeside for example) However, for east scarp, some character's wiki pages are not updated (I'm generally talking about the mod 'Always Raining in the Valley') and I rlly want to read those (*ahem* Sterling's) dialouges so I can giggle and kick my feet 😔😔

(Some ridgeside characters wiki also need to be updated😪)

PLEASE UPDATE IT😭

What's cool about the Stardew fandom is that when some people interpret the characters' birthdays to actual months, some people think the dates line up differently than others, so we get to celebrate their birthday's twice and that's pretty awesome

I think people that genuinely hate a bachelor/bachelorette are annoying LMAO like, that’s someone’s pookie, someone’s wife, someone’s reason for making art. you’re of course allowed not to like a character but be nice about it 😭

me getting personally offended when someone doesn’t like my favorite 4 pixel character: 😱😤

Haley :)