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Poems and Pomegranates

A Stardew Valley one-shot in which Elliott has a crush on the Farmer and is very stupid about it.

“I’ve got amazing news!”

Leah jumped and made a big, blue brushsroke through the middle of her almost finished painting.

“Elliott!” She growled, irritated at her friend. “I’ve told you to KNOCK!”

“Such trivial matters cannot stop me in the face of the most marvelous event of the ceuntry!” Writer threw himself dramatically at her bed, messing up the hand-embroidered pillows. “Leah, I am… I am in love!”

The artist was not half as amazed with the revelation as her friend.

“Oh my god, again? With who this time?”

“I’ll let you guess!”

Elliott sat on a bed giggling and waving his legs like an excited teenager.

“Is that really necessary…?”

“Oh come on, it won’t be hard! You know them.”

“Elliott, there’s like five people in this god forsaken village, OF COURSE I know them!”

Her rational arguments and angry stare seemed to bounce right off the invisible aura of pure joy and excitement that was surrounding freshly enamored Elliott. There was no way of developing this conversation other than his own. Leah sighed.

“Is it… the photo of Jodi’s husband that fell from her purse? Because if it is I’m gonna suspect she’s trying to get rid of it, that would be a fourth time!”

“No-o!” Elliott refuted. “This is a person.”

“An actor for a change? Let me guess, David…”

Leah got hit by a cushion, wiping a self-satisfied smirk of her face.

“Don’t play jokes on me in such a dramatic moment! A person from Pelican town.”

“Oh wow, that’s actually some unusual news.”

“I’ve told you so since the beginning.” Elliott seemingly didn’t notice the big chunks of irony in Leahs voice. “And you will never guess who!”

“The new farmer.”

Leah didn’t even bother to make it sound like a question. She laughed, hearing her friend’s outraged gasp behind her. Even though she turned her back to him to fix the painting, she knew exactly what face expression Elliott was making right now.

“How-did-you-know?!” He demanded, shocked and avast.

“He’s the only new person in town, all the other guys are either straight or not your type…”

“… or married to Jodi.”

“… So this was the only possible answer. Congratulations, are you planning on doing something about it?”

“Oh, yes!” Elliott jumped up and pulled something out of his pocket. “I’m going to read to him this poem. Won’t that be just utterly romantic?”

Leah took a piece of nice, firm paper and started to read it, subconsciously moving her lips as she did so. Her eyes became bigger and wider with every line.

“Elliott,” She waved a piece of paper before her friend’s eyes, as if trying to sober him up. “You can’t read that to him.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s way too straight forward! We don’t even know if the guy is gay! And even if he is, believe me, anyone getting something like that all of a sudden would be creeped out.”

“Why?” Elliott took back the sheet of paper and started observing it vigorously, trying to spot the thing that made Leah so opposed to his idea. “Do you think it isn’t good?”

“It’s a good piece of writing, but you don’t just go and give something like that to someone who you had zero romantic interaction with.”

“Oh, and here’s where your innate pessimism has you mistaken!” Elliott took a feather out of his neatly arranged hair and pointed it triumphantly at Leah, as if it was a saber. “I have a very good reason to suspect that he does hold intimate emotions for me!”

“Wait, really?!” Now Leah was genuinely interested. “Why didn’t you start with that?! Tell me everything!”

“So, last night…”

“Yes?”

“As I was getting back into my cabin…”

“Yes?!”

“The farmer appeared on a beach…”

“And? What happens next?!”

“He brought me…”

“What???”

“A pomegranate!”

Leah stared blankly at the triumphant, delusional face of her best friend. How such an intelligent person can be so stupid?

“Elliott.” She started explaining her point slowly, like she was talking to a little kid. “You asked for someone to bring you a pomegranate. On a bulletin board.”

“Yeah, well-” Elliott flared up. “He had no reason to satisfy my humble request, and yet he did!”

“You were paying.” Leah was starting to become seriously frustrated. “You. Were. Paying for the damn pomegranate! Yesterday the farmer delivered leek to Evelyn, will you argue that he’s in love with her too?”

Leah’s arguments finally seemed to have made their way through Elliott’s thick skull. He looked like a deflated birthday balloon.

“So do you think” He asked sitting on Leahs bed again, his body striking a defeated pose. “That I don’t have a chance to get with him?”

“Oh no, I didn’t say that!” Leah sat next to Elliott, embracing him with sisterly support. “You do have a chance, just, for the roots of Yoba, don’t-”

They were interrupted by a sound of knocking on Leah’s wooden door.

“Who’s there?” She asked, not knowing who besides Elliott might have a reason to visit her in her home.

“It’s the farmer!” Said a voice from behind the door. “May I come in?”

“Oh, of course!”

Both Leah and Elliott practically jumped up from her bed, both trying to communicate something by looking at each other and both having completely different messages in mind.

“Hello!” Farmer came inside, lighting Leah’s tiny studio with his bright smile. “Sorry for coming unannounced, but I was just coming back from Pierre’s and remembered I had some extra goat cheese I forgot to sell him. So I figured giving it to somebody will be better than going all the way back just to sell one piece. You like goat cheese, right?”

“Oh, I love it!” Leah beamed looking at one of her favourite snacks. “You couldn’t have picked better!”

“I’ll try to remember that.” Farmer smiled even wider. “Oh, hi Elliott!”

Writer straightened up, like he was called out to solve a mathematics problem by a teacher.

“H-hi, Farmer! It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.” Farmer looked around Leah’s room, admiring the sculptures and paintings. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know, writing my novel, a little bit of gardening… I have to remember to not water my plants with sea water this time!”

Farmer stopped watching Leah’s art for a minute to give writer a look. It was way less delightfully amused and much more concerned than Elliott have hoped for.

“You’re still irrigating them with sea water after a month?”

Oh no. Have Elliott already use this attempt at striking a conversation? All he wanted was to relate to the farmer on a common interest level, and instead he must have looked like someone utterly incompetent.

“Anyway.” Farmer broke the awkward silence. “I just remembered I also have something for you.”

Elliott’s eyes grew in awe and his heart fluttered, as he saw a glistening, ebony dark bottle of the finest ink, emerging before him from farmer’s backpack

“Oh, Farmer!” He took the gift gently in his hands, almost made tearful by that generous gesture. “Thank you so much, ink is always required for a writer! And so expensive, too…”

“Ah, don’t mention it!” Farmer waved their hand. “Had a lot luck in the mines lately. It’s weird what these monsters carry with them sometimes. I’m just glad that you like it.”

“It is very much appreciated.” Elliott held his hands tighter on a bottle, his mind already overflowing with heroic images of Farmer making his way through narrow corridors and slaying monsters, just for him…

“Just don’t use it for watering plants by mistake.”

Playful smile and a wink that Farmer gave him were like a nail to a coffin in which Elliott just buried his past self. The self who could imagine a life without the farmer.

“I will take sincere care of it, just like with any other gift from you.” He swallowed hard, gathering his courage for what was to happen next. “Speaking of which, I have…”

“HAVE been telling me something very personal and we’re very thankful for the gifts, Farmer, but I have to ask you to go. You’ll be welcome at any other time of course!”

“Oh, I see.” The man was almost not abashed at all as he swiftly obliged the sudden request from Leah. “I’ll see you around in that case. Bye!”

“Bye!” Elliott responded with waving his hand to the same gesture send his way by the leaving farmer, but the moment the door shut close, he turned with a whispered grievances to Leah.

“Why did you do this? We were having a magical moment!”

“You were about to give him the poem and make a fool of yourself, that’s what this moment was!” Leah whispered back angrily. “My dude, just this once in your life, listen to a sensible romance advice and learn to take it slow!”

Elliott was sulking at Leah until the end of their meeting in her cottage, and later for some time after he came back to his cabin, but ultimately he had to admit that his friend was right. He was a romantic at heart, but he had to admit that not everybody appreciates a straight forward gesture, or frankly feels comfortable with it. Writer sighed, putting his love confessing poem between the pages of “All the ways of robots” - a science fiction book that he started reading as a preparation for finishing his own novel.

For the rest of the day he played piano a little, he watered his plants (not with sea water, where did he even get an idea of pretending to be this dumb?), and finally - sat to have a intense session of writing. Despite earlier emotional turmoils, his creative process was going very smoothly. Smoothly enough, that when somebody knocked to his door Elliott was quite irritated with the forced break from his papers. Despite it he got up, feeling his bones creaking, and came to open the door.

“Hi again!” Said Farmer, and Elliott’s heart jumped and did a somersault somewhere in the vicinity of his Adam’s apple. As a result, his throat tightened and the word “hello” came out in a form of a squeak.

“… may I come in?”

Asked his guest after a few moments too long of standing at the doorstep and Elliott hurried himself to move out of the way and make a welcoming gesture. Why didn’t he think to clean his cabin at least a little bit today?!

“I won’t take too much of your time, I see you’ve been busy.”

Elliott miraculously stopped himself from responding something in the lines of “please, take all my time and more”.

“I was just in the library looking for “The Cosmic Triumph” and Gunter told me you borrowed it some time ago. Have you maybe finished it by any chance?”

“Of course!” He didn’t, the truth was it was a story Elliott read as a much younger boy and currently wanted to remind himself of. He only read half, but who could say no to such beautiful eyes that manifested into his room as if by a divine intervention? “Here it is, I hope it gives you a pleasant literary adventure.”

“Thank you, I’m sure it will.” Farmer took the book from Elliott’s hand and put it in his backpack. “Okay, I will leave you to it, it seems like you are busy with the book.”

“Actually” Elliott stopped the farmer as he was about to close the door. “I could use a little bit of fresh air. Would you mind having someone walk you to your home?”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

Elliott couldn’t have imagined a more perfect rendezvous. Light evening breeze brought relief after a long, hot summer day, which caused both men to walk slowly and bask in the wonderful fresh air as long as possible. Birds were singing in the forest, hidden between the branches somewhere above their heads. An owl whistled, giving their walk a mysterious aura. And the conversation was flowing - oh, how pleasant was the exchange of thoughts between the two minds, and how unwelcomed the departure.

“I don’t think my walk home from the beach ever felt that short. Will you be okay on your way back?” Said farmer, after they finally had to say goodbye.

“I’m glad that my company brings you pleasure, Farmer. Walking home from here will be a delight, you don’t need to worry about my security or comfort.”

“I’m glad. See you around, then!”

Farmer closed the door and Elliott made himself wait until after he left the farmer’s property to squeal with excitement. He never had such a short walk home! He worries about Elliott’s safety on the way back! Oh, what a night. Tomorrow first thing in the morning Elliott has to go to Leah’s house and tell her everything. No, on a second thought - that will be the second thing in the morning, before that Ellott will go to Pierre’s, to hopefully meet there the farmer. He’d pretend it was an accidental encounter and mention that he did get to his home safely, and offer tFarmer with farmer more often. Yes, the perfect plan. After that he will go to Leah and properly thank her for thwarting his attempt to present his poem to the farmer. She was right, it was very straight forward. More of an emotional fantasy than a serious literature, really.

Elliott came into his tiny cabin, sure that he will have pleasant dreams that night. He looked at his pocket watch (an old fashioned accessory, yes, but he liked it very much). It wasn’t too late yet, he can take some time to relax reading before bed. Elliott reached to the table and picked up… “The Cosmis Triumph”? No, that’s not right, he gave that book to farmer earlier today. But silver-lettered title gleamed before his eyes, clear as day, and that would have to mean that…

Oh no.

Oh shit.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Elliott started to search through his cabin in a panic, throwing books out of shelves and clothes out of the drawers. He tried to picture in his mind the exact moment of passing farmer the book to prove to himself that he was wrong, that he didn’t give him that book…

But he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. “All the ways of robots” was nowhere to be found. And that meant that farmer was now home alone with Elliott’s love poem.

Writer ran out of his hut like all the demons of hell were chasing him and rushed towards farmer’s property. His feet were tapping loud on the town’s stone road, echoing in otherwise still neighbourhood. The writer didn’t even take the time to tie his hair, so it was waving behind him like a shining ginger flag, making a beautiful composition with writer’s loose white shirt fluttering in the breeze created by his momentum. Elliott didn’t notice his surroundings in time, which caused him to crash with local guitarist amateur, who was in the process of leaving the pub.

“Hey…” managed to say startled Sam when something almost pushed him to the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” Shouted Elliott in his direction without slowing down. Sam looked at the tornado of ginger hair and linen that was drifting away in fits of chaotic movements.

“Sam, are you okay?” Asked Abigail who came through the door just behind him. “What’s the deal with that guy?”

“I don’t know, do you think he’s sick?”

“Sick in the head.” Commented Sebastian, walking right behind them and lighting a cigarette. “I’m telling you, that hermit crab has finally gone mad.”

“What’s with his hands?” Wondered Abigail as they watched Elliott disappearing in the woods. Indeed, he was waving his hands in a manner that did not at all positively impact his pace.

“Everyone here is a damn lunatic.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Abs, do you want us to walk you home before Business Daddy calls you for the twentieth time?”

“Ewww, don’t call my father that!” Abigail punched Sebastian lightly in the arm, but laughed.

Meanwhile in the forest Elliott was having a significantly less amusing time. The road seemed to have gotten more rough since he was walking it less than two hours ago, the forest was now darker and not so romantic anymore, rather scary. Writer’s wild imagination was putting roars of monsters in place of the squeaks of bats and clawed hands reaching for him in place of shadows. But possibly the worst of all - because very probable - was the fear of how farmer will react when he reads Elliott’s poem. Will he think it to be creepy? Too forward? Will he be skeeved out by the romantic details? Or maybe - and it was the worst posisibility of them all - the farmer will think that Elliott purposefully switched the books, just to confess to him in that convoluted way?

“He’ll probably think it was just a one, big misunderstanding.” Elliott tried to calm himself as he jumped through the logs and tried to keep his hair off the branches. “There’s no guarantee he’ll figure out that he is the object of that poem!”

“You literally wrote five verses describing his pomegranate tree” Leah’s voice rang in his head as if she was really right there, trying to speak some sense into his thick skull. “You’re writing about the fields and chickens, and who else in the valley has a greenhouse?! Elliott, you plonker, everybody will know this poem is about the farmer if they as much as look at it.”

Leah was right. Or, rather - Elliott was right. No, he wouldn’t have imagined that arguments if he didn’t know Leah. Screw that, the main point was that he had to take the book from the farmer before they manage to open it and find the wretched poem!

The light in Farmer’s house was still lit. Not a good sign. But maybe he’s not up reading?

Elliott knocked to the door in a rush, only a moment too late remembering that he is short-winded and disheveled, probably with some leaves stuck in his hair. But he didn’t have time to fix his looks, because in this very moment the door opened, letting outside a safe, golden, heavenly light, and an angel bathed in it, holding the doorknob.

“Elliott?” Farmer seemed surprised and a little worried. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I am…” Elliott, who wasn’t used to moving in such a hurry, gasped for the air. “Okay, it’s just…”

“Come in!”

Farmer stepped back to let him go through the door and closed them quickly, leaving chilly evening air outside. Elliott’s eyes were searching for the book. Is it possible that farmer didn’t yet took it out of the backpack?

“I, uhhh…” Writer suddenly felt himself blushing under the sweetly concerned gaze of his crush. “By accident I gave you the wrong book.” He held “The Cosmic Triumph” in front of him, endlessly thankful to his lucky star that he at least remembered to take it with him.

“That’s it?” Farmer laughed with relief. “Elliott, you looked like you have seen a ghost! Thank you, you really didn’t have to, I would have lasted one more evening without the book.”

Does that mean he didn’t open it yet?

“But since you are here maybe you’ll drink some tea, it looks like you need to sit for a moment. I also have juice if you want something colder.”

“T-tea is fine.” Only now Elliott started to feel how big of an impact the mad dash had on him. He sat on the sofa Farmer pointed him towards, still browsing the room with his eyes and… there it was. On the tea table, just slightly out of reach, lied the straightened page with the poem, and “All the ways of robots” next to it. He could try to steal it, but won’t it only make him look more suspicious if farmer ready read it? Did he?

“Milk or…” Farmer approached Elliott with two cups of tea and quickly followed his gaze. The beautiful face blushed. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. He had read it.

Elliott sat stiff as Farmer situated next to him, feeling like he had swallowed a ticking bomb. The bomb was his heart, the fuse was in the hands of the farmer.

“Um…” Elliott’s crush broke the insufferable silence. “You… you wrote it?”

Elliott took a deep inhale, prepared to ad-lib a desperate attempt at excuse, but before he could say anything he glanced at Farmer and saw… a blush and a smile? Was it really? Or was his hopeful mind making up illusions again?

Oh well, the prize belongs to risk takers. Worst case scenario he will have to change the name and move out of the country.

“Yes, I did actually.” He felt his heart bumping loudly. “For you.”

The farmer bit his lip. Was he trying to restrain a smile or a laugh? Will he throw Elliott out in the next moments? Or maybe he’ll feel intimidated?

“It’s beautiful.” Said Farmer simply. “Like… like the author.”

Elliott finally felt brave enough to look in the face of his muse. Was he… blushing? No, this time there was no denying it. Farmer’s face was red like a ripe tomato.

Suddenly farmer stood up and went to take something from his cellar downstairs. Did Elliott misread the signals?

“I was thinking,” Farmer’s voice could be heard before he went in the room. “It was such a nice time talking to you earlier today, and- and, I mean it’s late. Of course you don’t have to if you want to, but… you look tired… but still pretty.. What I mean is-”

He finally appeared, holding two glasses and a bottle of golden quality wine. Elliott’s heard did a pirouette. Such lavishness. And for him?

“If you are asking…” Elliott smiled, being once again the smoother worded one out of two of them. It provided him some confidence. “If you are asking me if I’d like to have a glass with you and spend the night, then the answer is yes. Gladly.”

Two bottles of wine and a few hours later two men were tasting each other’s lips under the night sky. Elliott smiled through the kisses, thinking about the stories he’ll get to tell tomorrow. Suck it, Leah. There are still true romantic souls in this world and he, Elliott, managed to find one. And he has no intention to let go.

I love Junior's naive moments lol. OITNB (the real thing) is one of my favorite shows so this was a treat! It was actually funny too 10/10 video but the ending was clearly rushed, typical of modern SML but whatever :)

(1/30/2025) Update: More parts will be less consistent because I'm studying again. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping I can finish two parts of Jacques' Little Painters in February but no promises. But I will promise some Valentine's Day art!

Cute 🐢

Sometimes I get the most unique little guests in my bird bath. (ButteredToastwKelly)

The best kids and their papa

Your daily Mario gif.

AU where Jacques took the kids despite the circumstances of how they were conceived and surprisingly ends up adoring them. With his wealth and pristine, he's able to take care of all their needs with ease. However, he can't simply pay for them to not remind them of his rapist so he's constantly dealing with that hurdle whilst caring for his babies. No matter what, he doesn't want them in Nancy's care or for the chance of them ending up with anyone similar to her.

I'm going to start working on a fic about this whilst working on Good Luck since Good Luck is more of a self fulfilling fantasy fanfic and I can balance them easier.

Headcanon time! I rewatched the video where Penelope was first introduced, Hunky Cody, and I realized that Joseph was initially into her too. SML isn't good at continuity, especially with the characters themselves so this was most likely not intentional. Thus, I'm claiming it as my headcanon :)

The only reason why Joseph insults Penelope so aggressively nowadays is because he's jealous that Junior is dating her. He had a crush on Penelope from day one and she showed zero interest in him. Heck, she was more interested in arguing with Junior than looking his way.

Even though his behavior is very wrong it's still interesting to think about reasons for it. I hope we get a more in depth episode about why Joseph is so mean to Penelope and/or how Penelope feels about being the only girl in their friend group.