#pelicans highlights

[nbalog]

Jordan Hawkins Top Plays | 2023‑24 NBA Season Highlights

rawchili.com

[valentin10]

New Orleans Pelicans vs Orlando Magic Full Game Highlights | Nov 8 | 2025 NBA Season

[sporthighlight44]

Dallas Mavericks vs New Orleans Pelicans Full Game Highlights | Nov 14 2...

[v6quewrlds]

can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

[jojaxcola]

So I, like a lot of people, love your mockumentary series. And this is a stretch and probably won't get done for ages but could I use your mockumentaries to write a fanfic? It won't be long or complex, more of an extension to the scenes you've drawn. I'll give credits, don't worry but yeah.

But if I do, I'd love if you answered a few characterisation questions.

I know the farmer filmed some but is any of it not farmer filmed?

Why is the farmer doing this?

Are there any fanon or hcs you used to create characters that I should use too?

Expect more soon + updates

Thank you so much!! I had this in my inbox for a while and I've been thinking for a while about how to answer, because I'm not sure how much I want to give away at this point in the series hehe 👀 but I hope these answers are helpful

I consider the farmer/producer to be the project lead and to be present for everything that's being filmed. While they take on some of their own filming, they have a small crew to handle things like camera work and sound. During the talking head segments, the farmer is the one prompting them with questions as needed

The farmer is still a Joja employee like in the beginning of the game, but not with the same office desk job. Their team has been tasked with filming a documentary series highlighting the happenings of a JojaMart location, and the farmer was the one to propose the relatively new Pelican Town location due to their grandfather's love of Stardew Valley. So they're still a newcomer to the town, but they don't have the farm. I might stay a bit quiet about the farmer's ultimate motivations for this project, though... :)

This one's a bit tricky since I'm not totally sure how to narrow it down hehe. One thing I'll say here is that I altered Sam's work schedule to have him appear in the store more often (since in the game he's only there like six hours a week). I'll also say a little bit about how I like to characterize the main players in the series:

Sam is someone whose cheeriness is partly genuine, but also partly because he needs to be the guy who keeps everyone positive in tough times. It's important to him to make sure everyone feels included and not forgotten. Sam isn't dumb—he's actually very creative and resourceful—but he does tend to rush his thinking and follow bizarre trains of logic. He doesn't like to slow himself down, and when he dwells too much on his thoughts he tends to reach uncomfortable conclusions.

Shane has an extremely low opinion of himself, but keeps himself going at work to provide for Jas and to not be a burden to Marnie. He's easily annoyed and has a tendency to push people away, but he's not completely shut off. He'll accept gifts and other gestures of kindness but doesn't totally understand why he's getting them, or why he even deserves them. He needs significant and repetitive convincing to believe any friendship with him is genuine. Shane believes that life is harsh, and he tends to fixate on difficult truths. Sam's optimism frustrates him, and he sees Sam as a naive little boy who will be eaten alive by the cruelty of reality.

I don't like depicting Morris as cartoonishly evil. I think it's more fun to make him "corporate evil", where his villainy comes from a "socially-acceptable" disregard for the little guy. He'll go on about how the JojaMart personnel are one big family, but he can't even call his employees by their names. He thinks he's above his staff, and he's satisfied by the idea of getting to look down on someone; he views higher-ups as having earned their power, and that looking down on others is just part of that package. Morris loves to project the image of human connection, not because he genuinely believes in it, but because that's what appeals to customers. And he'll do everything he can to convince Pelican Town that Joja is the answer to all of their problems.

I also like to pepper little personal headcanons into the different entries (I like to think Sam is left-handed, so I wrote his notes on his right wrist in no. 5) but I think listing them here would bloat this post :o

Please feel free to ask anything else about the series (or individual scenes), this was really fun to write up! And I can't wait to see what you come up with!! :D

===============

Follow ups to this post (I might make a separate FAQs post if needed):

What has become of the community center? (@happycomputertimetravel): It's still dilapidated. I consider the jojamart series to have the town in the same state as it is at the start of the game (so Kent is still overseas, the bus is still broken, etc.) unless depicted otherwise

[helldivers-2]

The truth is out there, Helldivers–get equipped with the tools to tell it!

The Truth Enforcers Warbond lands on October 31st!

Full Briefing.

The Truth Enforcers Warbond highlights include:

Primary

SG-20 Halt - pump action shotgun

SMG-32 Reprimand - heavy SMG ‌

Secondary

PLAS-15 Loyalist - Plasma pistol

Utilities

Dead Sprint booster - drains your health once your stamina hits zero, but it will enable you to outrun the enemy.

Armor

UF-16 Inspector (Light) & UF-50 Bloodhound (Medium)

We want our Helldivers to stand strong against all who oppose the truth, so both of these armors have the Unflinching passive, which reduces staggering when hit.

Patterns

Truth Enforcers also includes new cosmetic patterns for your hellpods, exosuits, and Pelican-1. The Inconspicuous Black Pattern looks as mysterious as it does ceremonial. Equip these and you’ll bring immediate order to the chaos of other divers in your squad.

Emotes & Victory Poses

You’ll also be able to secure the At Ease emote, giving your Helldiver a stoic, commanding, order-following vibe. This Enforcer isn’t the type to laugh at all these pull-my-finger emote jokesters on the squad. You know they need proper clearance and permits for that.

The spread of truth and justice across the galaxy is a big job, Helldiver, but a real Truth Enforcer has the tools and the talent to do it.

Releasing October 31st!

[uncharismatic-fauna]

The Can-do Pelican Eel

The pelican eel, also known as the gulper eel (Eurypharynx pelecanoides), are the only known species of eel in the family Eurypharyngidae. They are found exclusively in the deeper parts of the water column, from depths of 500 up to to 3,000 m (1,600 to 9,800 ft), but are distributed throughout all the world's oceans.

The gulper eel is perhaps most famous for its unique body shape. Like many deep-sea fish, this species is highly adapted to its environment; maximum energy efficiency is the highest priority. To that end, the pelican eel has a large head, and a jaw estimated to be quarter of the total length of its body. The jaw is loosely hinged, meaning that gulper eels can open their mouths extremely wide. The rest of the eel, in contrast, is quite slender and long, about 0.75 m (2.5 ft) in length on average. Most individuals are black--so black, in fact, that they only reflect 0.5% of light; perfect for hiding from potential predators.

Although they look skinny, E. pelecanoides can expand their stomachs to hold prey much larger than themselves. Their primary prey consists of crustaceans and cephalopods, though they may feed opportunistically on other fish. Because it is so well camouflaged, it uses bioluminescent organs on the tip of its tail to attract prey. Gulper eels themselves are preyed upon by lancetfish and other larger deep-sea fish. To deter predators, they will gulp down a large amount of water; this stretches the loose skin around their head and throat, and inflates them to several times their usual size.

Because of their remote location, the breeding habits of gulper eels are relatively unknown. However, it is believed that smell plays a large part in attracting a mate, as pelican eels have highly developed olfactory organs. Like other eels, they're born as tiny, transparent larvae in a state known as the leptocephalus stage. At this stage, they do not have any red blood cells. Researchers aren't sure how long it takes gulper eels to become fully mature, or how long they live, but many believe that adults die shortly after mating.

Conservation status: The population size of E. pelecanoides has not been assessed, and thus the IUCN has not made a determination on its status. The greatest threat for this species is deep-sea trawling, which frequently brings up gulper eels as by-catch.

Photos/Video

Paul Caiger

Schmidt Ocean Institute

EV Nautilus Team (I highly recommend checking out their 2023 highlights reel!)

[mongoosingisme]

Title: Operation: Cranberry Sauce - Chapter 2

Series: Sticking the Landing (see fic Masterlist for previous parts)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Relationship: Harvey/fem!Reader

Word Count: 4609

Summary: Harvey is not very good at taking care of himself when other people need him. You intend to help him with that.

Read on AO3

or

Read below

When you opened your eyes the clock said 2:47am.

This was confusing. You didn’t keep a clock in your room. 

But then you remembered. Where you were, why you were there. Aligned the pleasant ache between your legs with the memory of Harvey above you, the soft warmth of his bed with the way the two of you had fallen asleep around each other.

You were alone now.

You sat up at the realization. A band of light came in from under the door. You assumed this meant he was awake in the living room. That wasn’t the deal, you mused as you draped yourself in the first item of clothing you could find (Harvey’s t-shirt). He was supposed to be sleeping, and you were going to tell him so.

Harvey was indeed awake in the living room, reading on the couch, dressed in pajama pants, a well-worn sweatshirt, and glasses. He looked up as you opened the door. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, but why are you up?”

Harvey shrugged. The lamplight cast his face in highlights and shadows, softening his cheeks and mouth, making his eyes look darker. “Not always the best sleeper.” 

You didn’t know this. Kicked yourself for only learning it now. “Need me to tuck you back in?”

He sighed. “You’re sweet, but I’ll be up for a while. Why don’t you go back to bed? Don’t need both of us getting overtired.”

“Not a chance,” you said, settling down next to him on the couch. He smiled, put a bookmark in his book, raised his arm so you could snuggle up next to him.

“Want some quilt?” he asked, already pulling on the blanket hanging off the back of the couch.

You hummed in pleasure, the heat of his body and the softness of the blanket making you feel warm, sleepy, safe. You leaned against him, enjoying the rise and fall of his chest. The room was so quiet you could hear his watch ticking. His heart beat steadily in his chest, strong and regular enough to make you want to close your eyes, fall back asleep.

But that would leave him alone again, and you didn’t want that.

“I used to have trouble sleeping,” you said, if only to wake yourself back up a bit. “I’d wake up out of nowhere and it’d feel impossible to get back down. Moving out here helped a lot. Calms my brain down.”

“Mmmmm,” Harvey acknowledged. “I…” he paused, as though weighing if he should admit something. You pressed a kiss to his chest. Reached over and interlaced your fingers with his free hand. “I get nightmares. Makes it hard to go back to sleep.”

You made a sympathetic sound. “That’s no good.” Then you added with your best Fortune Teller voice: “tell me what you dreamed and I’ll tell you what it means.”

Harvey huffed. “No great mystery. Replays of my career lowlights, mostly,”

You made another sympathetic sound. It made sense, you supposed, that a few days of what counted as a medical catastrophe in Pelican Town would trigger some anxious thoughts. “Want to talk about it?”

He met your question with a silence long enough that you wanted to backtrack, to assure him that he didn’t need to talk about anything he didn’t want to, that you could just sit here and enjoy each other’s warmth and not worry about it, but then he was saying “compartmentalization isn’t my strength. It all sort of… blurs together. Up here.” He used your joined hands to tap his head.

“So what, dreaming of cranberry sauce?”

He grimaced. “No, thank Yoba. It was…” He sighed. “Well, it was you, in the hospital I used to work at. You weren’t… you weren’t doing well.”

Oh shit.

“Harvey,” you said, coming up on your knees so you could look him in the face. You felt like you should apologize, like you’d committed some sin by being far enough into his head to cause him pain. “What a crummy dream. I’m alright.”

“I know,” he said, but his mouth was thin, lacking the warmth of his usual smile.

“Do you? You know, you can give me a little check-up if you need to, make sure I’m all in one piece.” You wiggled onto his lap as you said it. 

Harvey settled his hands on your hips, but it was clear flirting wasn’t going to get his head out of his dream. “I can’t believe I’m turning down such a tempting offer, but I don’t think I could tonight.”

“It’s okay.” You leaned into his chest, a little frustrated by how comforted you felt by his warmth, the way he put his arms around you, how he buried his nose in your hair. “I promise I don’t have an ulcer or anything.”

Harvey hummed. “Those were never my specialty.”

“Oh?” It felt good to be talking, good to help him clear out whatever cobwebs were in his mind. “For some reason I thought you were a stomach doctor or something.”

Harvey chuckled. “Gastroenterology would have been more sensible, I think. I worked in the ICU. Trauma.”

You sat back. You didn’t know much about how hospitals worked, but those two words together seemed intense. “What, like people who got blown up or something?”

Harvey winced. “My patients needed a lot of care.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. 

“They were in pain, most of the time. Recovery could be… complicated. Their lives were in your hands. You’d do the best you could, make the best decisions you knew to make, and you could still lose them. And if you made a mistake…”

He trailed off. You pressed your head back onto his chest. Listened to his heart, beating a little faster now. 

“It sounds like a nightmare,” you said.

“It was,” was his reply. 

He was quiet, then, hand stroking up and down your back. Again, you were annoyed at how comforting you found his presence, how inept you felt at doing the same for him.

“So what model plane are you working on right now?” you finally asked.

He laughed softly. You felt it rumble in his chest. “You don’t want to hear me talk about planes.”

You sat up, feigning indignance. “I’ll have you know I have a deep, abiding interest in all machines that fly.”

“Oh do you?” Harvey’s smile was beginning to look a little less thin. 

“Yes. I’m passionate about the little spinny things.” You rotated your finger rapidly. 

“Propellers?” Harvey suggested.

“Yes. And the flappy things.”

“Flaps?”

“I thought they were called wings.” Harvey’s smile broke into a grin, a laugh, and you’d never felt so accomplished. “You’d think you’d know what wings are called, what with the whole plane enthusiast thing you’ve got going.”

“Thank Yoba I have you here to teach me.” His eyes were sparkling in the lamplight now, looking at you with such affection you felt yourself starting to feel a little shy.

“So tell me, what are you working on?”

“If you must know,” he said, “I’m between projects. I finished the last one up a week ago, and I need to order some more.”

“Not so fast,” you said, holding up a finger so quickly it made him jump a bit. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in apology. “I picked one up for you as a Winter Star present. Though Yoba knows if it’s one you don’t already have - they all look the same to me.”

Now Harvey was looking a little shy. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know, which is why I did it.” You kissed him on the cheek again, lingering a little longer this time. “You can have it tomorrow. I’ll even take some time to show you what the wings are, but you have to get some sleep first.”

Harvey sighed, that affection back in his eyes. “I suppose that’s a reasonable condition.”

“Good. Now come on.” You got off his lap, guided him by the hand back to his bed, arranged him with his head on your chest. Despite his assertion that he’d have trouble falling back asleep, within minutes his breathing was slow and even.

You, however, were wide awake.

Your brain turned over the information he’d given you. Nightmares. Hospitals. Trauma ICU. Why did you think he was a gastroenterologist? Of course he would have worked in a more stressful field. The pieces started to fall into place as you thought it over. How quickly he’d react if anything went wrong, as though he were tuned to handling life or death situations. How capable he was when tending wounds. The confident authority he could slip into if he needed, though it never seemed to come without a cost.

You tried to imagine it, a younger Harvey making a decision about the future. He couldn’t fly, so what was next? Of course he’d feel pulled to a specialty where he was most needed. Of course he’d feel compelled to help those whose bodies were the most broken. Of course he’d get drawn into a place that fed off a willingness to give. He would have given, you knew. Given and given and given until there was nothing left, and then he’d still give more, grinding himself down until every second was agony. You wondered what the final straw could have been.

Wondered if you really wanted to know.

It made sense, too, the way he treated you. How eager he was to care for you, his attentiveness, yes, but also how he touched you. His focus on your gratification, the way he seemed to need it. So many of his interactions focused on illness, on fear, on pain. You wondered if there might be some release for him in controlling someone else’s pleasure.

It was a lot to think about. 

As the minutes went past your thoughts became less distinct, blurring gently into emotion. You cared for Harvey. Cared for him deeply. Wanted more of him, his voice and his smile, the way he moved, his smell. Wanted to wrap his mind up in a blanket, keep him safe and warm. Wanted all good things for him. Wanted to be the one who gave them to him.

There was a word for all that, you knew.

But you weren’t brave enough to think it yet.

Because the thing about you and falling was that you were absolutely awful at landing.

————————

You awoke a few hours later to weak morning sunlight and Harvey snoring gently against your chest. You extricated yourself as smoothly as you could and went about your business.

The business in question included making coffee and doing the dishes. You know, the responsible stuff. Responsibility was back on.

The floors were a little cold under your bare feet, your legs a little chilly sticking out from Harvey’s t-shirt, but it was alright. Coffee was easy to find (though cream was sadly absent), and soon the kitchen filled with the comforting aroma as you worked through the dishes.

“This is nice to wake up to.” Harvey was standing in the doorway, looking rumpled and sleepy. Hair mussed, sweatshirt soft (the letters “Z-Z-U” looked faded from many washings), eyes gentle without his glasses, smile warm and hazy. Compared to yesterday he looked a little better - less pale, less hunched, less exhausted. He still wasn’t quite back to his old self, though. Some thread of the last few days still ran through him, somewhere in the crease of his forehead, the set of his lips. 

“Nooooo,” you lamented as you saw him. “I was going to bring you coffee in bed! Get back in there!”

“Only if you come with me.” Did you think his eyes looked gentle? Clearly that was a bad read. His gaze was fond, yes, but the way his eyes traced over you as you stood there in his t-shirt was anything but soft.

“Well, I would, but you got all huffy when I tried to do the dishes last night, so here we are.” You flicked a little water at him for emphasis. “Now back to bed!”

“Bossy, bossy,” he murmured, moving towards you instead of the bedroom. Clearly he was bad with instructions. 

“It’s called responsibility, look it up.” You bit back your smile as he stood close behind you, hands gentle on your hips, lips on the top of your head.

“I’m going to have to retire this shirt,” he said, smoothing his thumbs back and forth over the fabric. “You wear it much better than I do.”

“Yes, and I’m going to keep wearing it until these dishes are done.” Harvey’s hands were traveling up, spanning your waist, pulling you back almost imperceptibly. You did your best to ignore the feeling starting to flutter between your legs. If the man wanted to feel you up before coffee that was his business, but you were going to get this one thing done before he pulled you into whatever he had planned.

“I’m flexible,” he whispered. His voice was still a little raspy with sleep. It sent a shiver down your spine. Those hands of his kept moving, up and forward, cupping your breasts through the shirt. Your nipples tightened at his touch, and you knew there was no hiding it from him. 

“Give me five minutes,” you said, a little miffed at the way your words trembled.

Harvey didn’t respond, just moved to the top of your thighs. His hands were warm in the cool room, flat and big and covering so much skin at once, fingers wide as he traveled the same path he did before, beneath the shirt this time. You were bare underneath, and you heard Harvey take in a breath as he realized it. 

“You’re very distracting.” You were absolutely breathless at this point. 

“Good,” he said, hands continuing to traverse upwards. His mouth had fallen to your neck, kissing you softly as his hands roamed.

“Fuck, Harvey,” you moaned as he cupped your breasts, gently rolled your nipples between his thumbs and the sides of his hands. “I’m all, like, pruny from the water.”

“That’s alright.” He nipped your earlobe at the same time he gave your breasts a particularly forceful squeeze. “You don’t need your hands for what I have in mind.”

Yoba

“You really can’t wait five minutes?” You were beginning to think you couldn’t wait five minutes.

“No, I can’t.” One hand travelled down, cupped around your core. “But don’t let me stop you.”

You let out a long, slightly whining breath as one of his talented fingers parted you, skimmed ever so gently along your folds. 

“It seems you really enjoy doing the dishes,” he remarked. You turned your head to give him an exasperated look, but that was playing right into his plans, it seemed. He ran his hand up from your breast through the collar of the shirt, bunching the fabric with his forearm, cool air hitting your stomach as he clasped around your neck, braced your jaw, kissed you long and deep. He bit your bottom lip gently before breaking away, making a pleased sound as you shuddered against him. “I need you to come for me, sweetheart. Is that something you can do?”

And there it was. He needed it. Was comforted by it the way you felt comforted wrapped up in his arms. Felt safe, somehow, in the certainty that he could elicit pleasure, that when you were near him you’d feel good, feel incredible, better than you ever had or ever would without him. That you’d put your body in his hands, trust him to take control, to make your world perfect for just a moment.

Well. If that’s what he needed, you’d just have to bear it with grace.

Isn’t that the responsible thing to do?

“I think I can,” you said. Harvey made an approving sound, rubbed his mouth against your neck, dropped the hand holding your chin to press against your stomach. You used the brief pause in his attentions to finish scrubbing a cutting board. “But really, isn’t that up to you? Think you can make me?”

Harvey laughed, lower and deeper than his usual chuckle. “That’s a dangerous question to ask.”

“What can I say?” You deposited the last bits of silverware in the drying rack, used the towel hanging over your shoulder to dry your hands, tried to will some steadiness into your voice. “I like to live on the wild side.”

“My little trouble maker,” he said, then his hands weren’t on you anymore, not really. They were on the towel, for some reason, the one between your hands. He was moving it, catching you up in it, not knotting but twisting, trapping your hands together, holding on tight with one fist while the other made its way back to your folds.

“Fuck,” you gasped, pulling at the fabric. Your excitement had rocketed up at the makeshift restraint, leaving you shaky, sensitive, eager and needy and completely focused on the finger pressing ever so lightly against your clit.

“I told you you wouldn’t need your hands.” Harvey’s quiet confidence wound you up further, made the first real stroke of his fingers feel like a spark, the touches that followed catching through your hips and your thighs. He wasn’t teasing this time, wasn’t going to make you ask or beg. He was chasing results, and had more than the skills needed to achieve them. He knew your body, had been observing it relentlessly throughout your interactions, knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how hard, what angle, what rhythm to have you spiraling upwards almost immediately. 

You cried out, body wanting to double over at the feel of his fingers, so clever and calibrated and beyond fucking perfect. He braced you with the arm holding the towel, keeping you still, keeping you exactly where he wanted you: shaking and keening, clenching around nothing as his fingers worked you up, up, up, up.

“You’re awfully keyed up, sweetheart.” His voice was so calm, so unaffected it made you want to scream. “Just be good and let it go, alright? Just let go for me.”

And fuck, that was exactly what you were doing, feeling everything in you let go, waves of pleasure taking its place, full and deep and shaking and stealing the breath from your lungs so you couldn’t scream, couldn’t moan, couldn’t even whimper. You made a silent, breathless cry as you crested, stayed at that peak for what felt like an eternity until finally releasing, crashing down, feeling limp and weighty as Harvey dropped the towel, wrapped his arm around your waist, held you up, held you to him.

“Well done,” he whispered in your ear. “That was perfect. You were so, so good. Let me see it again.”

“Wha-?” His fingers hadn’t stopped moving, hadn’t stopped their absolutely perfect rhythm against you. You braced your hands against the lip of the sink. Harvey’s arm had stayed latched around your waist, and it was a good thing too - all you wanted to do was let your knees give in, sink to the floor, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he kept you just as you were, curled over, gasping, crying out as his fingertips worked against your nub. 

His big t-shirt had slipped down off your shoulder and you could feel his lips running against your skin. His mustache was soft, his stubble rough, his breath warm between kisses. You gripped at the counter, hips starting to make tiny thrusts against his fingers, and Harvey made an approving noise.

“You’re being such a good little thing,” he whispered, lips leaving your shoulder to press against the shell of your ear. “You’re being so, so good for me. Keep going, darling. Keep going.”

As if there were any alternative. As if this ended any other way than you freezing and shuddering, knuckles white, throat constricting on a groan, climax coming on fast and sharp and all-consuming, Harvey pouring praise into your ear as you shook against him, fingers keeping that steady, steady rhythm, until your knees really were giving out this time, and you were pressing your rib cage against the sink for balance, gathering enough breath to gasp “Yoba, Harvey!”

“Are you alright?” Harvey’s body had followed yours, curling over with you, hips pressing against your rear, fingers unmoving against your core. He was hard, what must be achingly so. You could feel him pulse against you, feel yourself pulsing too, tensing and shivering against his motionless fingers, keyed up and wanting, still somehow unsated. 

“Yeah,” you gasped. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Harvey was turning you, helping you brace your hips on the side of the sink. He held your face between his hands - gentle, shaking slightly, two fingers raised. You were reminded of how he looked at you yesterday in his office, in those split seconds you let him think you were ill. You regretted the joke now, as he searched your eyes. He didn’t need any more worries. 

Whatever he was looking for as he examined you, he found it. “Are you sore at all? From last night?”

You pressed your lips together, restraining the grin that wanted to spread across your face. He needed more. You needed more. “I’m doing alright. Why do you ask?”

“I… I was hoping…” He stammered for a moment (so funny, how his confidence would come and go, so endearing and so interesting), then he caught the teasing glint in your eye. He gave you a look equal parts admonishment and affection, pressed his lips softly to yours. So sweet, this man. So gentle, until you were opening your mouth, letting your tongue meet his, and he was groaning and catching you up beneath your thighs and settling you right back on the counter where you’d been the night before. 

From there it was simply a matter of fishing the packet of foil from his pajama pocket (so prepared, you could practically see the badge-covered vest he must have stored away somewhere), hitching down his pants (you reached for his his cock but he was grabbing your wrist, pressing a kiss to it as he rubbed up against you, tracing the tip of his length against your folds with such firm deliberation it left you gasping), rolling the condom down (you helped as best you could, his fingers tangling with yours as you reached his base, tensing and groaning as you gave him a squeeze), and gently, gently pushing inside of you.

He watched your face as he breached you, some quiet calculus going on behind his eyes. You wondered if he believed you when you said you weren’t sore, if he was looking for any sign of discomfort, unease. And yes, perhaps you were a little sore, but not enough to make his stretch inside of you anything but sweet. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered. “Promise.”

Harvey nodded, kissed your forehead, and moved into you the rest of the way. You shivered at the intrusion, clutched at his shirt, squeezed around him as he groaned, braced his hands on either side of you, shifted his hips in a slow, grinding circle. “So good,” he whispered. “So good, sweetheart. Can… do you think you can come again for me?”

Your response was to grab his hand, bring his fingers to your mouth, meet his eyes as you wet two of them with your tongue.

“Yoba,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut, hips thrusting hard once, twice, and then his fingers were back on your clit.

It felt different this time, with his cock filling you, with your knees hitched up around his hips, with the way he was watching you. So intent, searching your face, trying to see something in it, looking, asking, begging, you realized with a gasp, begging for something that he didn’t know how to say. 

And maybe it was the position, exactly where you’d been the night before. Maybe it was the way he was curling around you, finger working, so attuned, so attentive, so focused on you and your needs. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at you last night, when he’d admitted the stories that played in his mind while you slept peacefully. Maybe you just fucking wanted to, okay? Just wanted to reach up and clasp him around the throat, thumb against his pulse, not choking but holding, just holding him steady as his eyes widened, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed, his body shuddered. 

“Are you going to make me come?” you asked.

Something in him seemed to break.

He was nodding, eyes closed, gasping, fingers working you faster now, harder, hips snapping quicker, making small noises now, sounds of agreement, sounds that yes said, he was going to do what you asked, yes, he was going to give you what you needed, yes, you were going to give him what he needed too, were giving it to him right now, in fact, in the way your body tensed around him, the way you moaned as your climax hit, the way your fingers tightened around his throat, just a little, just enough to hold him steady, draw him in, make it clear beyond any doubt that he wasn’t there alone.

“Fuck,” he was gasping, both hands on your hips now, pulling you forward to meet each of his thrusts. 

You hooked your free arm around his neck, pulled him down closer, down so his ear was next to your mouth, right where you could whisper into it, close enough for him to feel the puffs of air as you said “that’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re fucking me so good, Harvey, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept up the pace, the sound of his body hitting yours loud in the quiet room. You could feel the way he groaned through your hand on his neck, tiny vibrations that made you groan in return, press your mouth against his ear, close your eyes and hold him, hold him as his thrusts fell off rhythm, hold him as he flexed into you hard and deep, hold him as his body sagged in the wake of his release.

You stayed curled around each other for a moment. Harvey took deep, shuddering breaths, leaning his forehead against your shoulder as he softened inside of you. You kept your hand on his neck, looser, your arm around his shoulders as he relaxed.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I… I really am.”

And he truly seemed to be. His eyes were clearer than you’d seen them since before you’d left for the holiday. You rubbed your thumb over his pulse, pressed a kiss to his temple.

The last 18 hours had been a revelation.

And because you were being responsible, you were going to attend to what they revealed.

A man, more alone than you realized, who needed filling in a way you hadn’t accounted for.

A hand on a neck, and the way a pulse slowed to steady while fingers stayed on it.

A feeling, you had to think it now, had to name it, had to admit that it was love and you were in it deep, falling fast with no landing in sight.

You would attend to these things, you promised yourself as you ran your fingers through Harvey’s soft hair. Give them the thought, the attention, the persistence they deserved. 

And that, you decided, would be how you would finally, finally land the way you wanted to: firmly, with both feet, and with a modicum of grace.

Masterlist

[hatsukeii]

"WE ARE THE BLOOD IN OUR...WAS IT VEINS OR ARTERIES AGAIN?" / T. KUROO

#2. A BIOLOGIST'S GUIDE TO TUTORING | M.LIST | PREV. | NEXT. |

warning(s): nothing except bio again! no ochem this time so that's an improvement (update there is still ochem sorry!)

wc: ~1.4k

Turns out the seagull on the cover of the biology textbook that splays open on Kuroo's desk is really a pelican, and Kuroo only realises that through quick skim of a random case study as he flips for the chapter you prescribed him during your last session, mumbling beneath his breath words that he definitely does not understand as he searches for the right topic.

Ground rule #1: Always have your materials ready by the next session.

He stops at Polypeptide Sequences, taking a glance at the array of chemical diagrams that seem...surprisingly familiar. Great! Nice! He might have a shot at pretending he understands something by tomorrow! He reads on, watching the organic chains that he has become so accustomed to morph into helixes and rings that burn out whatever polypeptides are responsible for information processing. Transcription of RNA... the RNA that makes up the DNA...? Could that work as a pep talk? Kuroo shakes his head, damp hair from his shower flicking dark spots into the paper of his textbook as he huffs out, highlighters smearing yellows and greens into anything that even remotely make sense.

At 12:46pm, as he has for the past two weeks, Kuroo slips through crowds of screaming children and whizzing basketballs into the eerily still library once again, his previously pristine textbook now creased around the spine as he pushes open the door to the study room. There you sit, squares of orange and yellow and green prodding at him as he plops his book on the desk and pulls out a chair. Polypeptides...RNA... right, his pep talk. Could RNA lead into something more?

"Hey, uh... tutor?"

"Y/n." Well, isn't that such a nice name for somebody so terrifying?

"Right, y/n, got a favour to ask for."

"Does it have to do with polypeptide sequences?"

"Well, not really, but-"

"Ground rule #2, Kuroo."

He groans, throwing his palms into the air dejectedly as you flip open his textbook to the prescribed chapter, the five pages of content clean and untouched spare of six highlighted lines.

Ground rule #2: Tutoring sessions are reserved for prescribed topics and subjects only.

You make a sound, a hum that ticks downwards, so doubtful that it stabs through Kuroo's throat and almost forces a wheeze from him. Raising your brow, he chuckles pathetically, a hand shooting to his neck as he scratches the hairs on his nape. Finding himself and his utter failure to feign any knowledge in the wake of your expectant glare, he sighs when you drop your pen beside the book, leaning down and tilting your head to examine the pages, the tie of your school uniform draping over one of the not so many highlighted lines.

"So, I take it that you had a hard time with this?" Yes, so hard that he actually gave up within five minutes of reading.

"Yeah, really hard time." Not hard enough for him to give up on his pep talk yet, though.

The fading ink of your pen draws numbers and arrows between highlighted and blank sentences, scribbles two word notes between each linked arrow, slings effortless circles around bold keywords. Kuroo’s eyes trace the map of ink that has emerged from the dizzying page of letters, letters that now seem to come together into sentences, and into paragraphs, and into semi-coherent explanations. You tap at the first highlighted sentence. A polypeptide is a continuous, unbranched chain of amino acids. The carbons and hydrogens come to life in his head, linking and bonding the way puzzle pieces fit into each other, and he grins at something finally within the grasp of his spiralling mind.

“Yeah, you’re a chemist alright.” Kuroo rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, pushing his elbows into his chest.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look at you. You read like one."

Kuroo shifts in his chair, and when you sigh in exasperation, he slumps into the plush backrest, legs crossing beneath the desk.

"Well, let’s start here. We’ll get coffee afterwards if you can sit through this without giving up.”

At your proposal, Kuroo successfully makes it through half an hour of lunch time pep(tide) talk. Half an hour of the one hour session.

Ground rule #3: Coffee breaks in the free sessions if and ONLY if the entire lesson is done to completion. (Good for the soul!)

The barista across the counter slides a steaming mug of black coffee on a coaster beneath Kuroo's nose, and sets down another mug of swirling hot chocolate on your side. You stare him in the eye when you switch the drinks around, before smiling at the barista, who chuckles sheepishly as he apologises for his misconception. The chocolate scalds Kuroo's tongue at first taste, and he rubs it against the roof of his mouth, his taste buds now raw and tingly. You sip at your coffee, the bitter sting of dark roast trickling down your throat as you swallow in satisfaction, the warmth of a freshly brewed cup like a fix of hot honey running through your body. Perhaps the temptation of coffee makes you forget about the half an hour of your session with Kuroo left undone. He watches your throat bob, eyes squinting when the liquid pours through your mouth and into your body. You look... happy. Relaxed. A different person from the piercing edge that slashes his ego and rips gashes into his knowledge during the biology sessions.

"So, what are you having the most trouble with so far? We can have a quick chat about it."

A droning hum erupts from Kuroo's mouth as he tilts his head. To be frank, he isn't sure. He was barely able to string together the basics of polypeptides twenty minutes ago, even with your help. The rest of the book has been a jumble of case studies and bodily diagrams that look more like hieroglyphs than anything that exists within the human body. He searches his brain for something, anything, but half-stuttered words get stuck in his throat when he realises he can barely pronounce half the specifics of the textbook. He makes a note to himself, use none of those words in the pep talk.

"Stupid pelicans, that case study was a mess."

"You are kidding me right now."

He freezes at your response. Is that not a valid topic to bring up? What's so wrong with having trouble with pelicans? They look too much like seagulls anyways? The edge has returned, pointy at his throat as he feels the familiar lump form again. For a second, he wishes he could force feed you another sip of coffee, soften the blade around yourself for even just a moment.

"That is, quite literally, the first topic from last year. Evolution? Really? That's what you're having trouble with?"

You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee as you side eye him from your seat, slurping judgmentally when his irises visibly twitch in panic. Does he want this pep talk badly enough to swallow his pride? Surely not, right? In fact, he should just come clean now, right?

Kuroo glances at you, and his hooked fingers tighten around the handle of his barely touched hot chocolate at the sight of the one-sided curl in your lips, a curl that bares your right canines and has your brows furrowed above one eye.

You're smirking at his confusion.

The same smirk that slithered onto your lips as you slapped the perfect LDPE diagram onto his textbook. The same, sadistic smirk that you must've had plastered across your face when you beat him out by one placement in chemistry.

And that's when Kuroo decides that he's going to ruin you. Pelicans and polypeptides and circulatory system and all. He doesn't care if it has to be biology, or chemistry, or any other fucked up, needlessly complicated subject. If that is what it takes to soften your edge, so be it. He decides that he is willing to do anything to rid you of your blade, the razor sharp mockery that slashes his pulse and rips through his... arteries? Veins?

"Yeah. Sorry, I'm a little rusty." He swears that will be the last sorry he gives you.

Ground rule #4: Don't ask stupid questions.

author's note:

I'M BACK FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER BABY!!! this is not my favourite chapter BUT THE NEXT ONE IS!! im so excited to write it and share it w you guys <3 i've been super busy lately with erm life in general smh but i promise i will keep feeding you my loves frl

also lowkey writer's block is hitting again... i'm afraid but i will power through it!! we're SO back!!!!

tags: @chuuya-brainrot @staraxiaa @hiraethwa @iiwaijime @akaakeis @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses @fiannee @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @catsoupki @cupidsblonde

[peeweekey]

If growing up ever taught Sam anything, it was to take a hint.

To leave the room if his parent’s discussion was starting to get heated, to head home when Sebastian started to quieten and recluse while hanging out—

…and you probably don’t like him as much as he liked you.

It’s such a cynical thought to have while playing on stage in front of countless people. Spotlights highlight him in a bath of brightness, his fingers move almost effortlessly on the strings of his guitar. All his friends and family are in the crowd, cheering the Pelicans on for their first performance.

They’re all showing their support, yes—but Sam can only really notice you.

Right in the smack front-middle is you—the silly farmer he’s fallen head over heels over; you’re bobbing your head to the beat of the song with a tentative, almost secretive smile. Not like the big proud grins that you usually offer him, when your teeth are bared and lips stretched so far your cheeks hurt—no, you look every bit the pining yearner in the books Penny would tell him about.

It’s a look he’s terribly familiar with, it’s exactly how he looks at you.

When he’s on the stage, all the attention on him as he sings every high and low note, it’s easy to shut his eyes and picture you staring up at him with that lovesick expression that he reserves for only you.

It’s wishful thinking. But Sam knows how to take a hint. You aren’t looking at him, who’s right under the spotlight and center stage—but right over his shoulder.

You don’t smile at him like that.

He knows the adoring look in your eyes is only for Sebastian.

[elaho]

Stardew Valley MBTI x Enneagram: Elliott

Following my last post about the Stardew marriage candidates and their MBTI types, I've been learning more about Enneagram, how it pairs with MBTI, and how it changes some of the typical characteristics of each type.

The Enneagram and MBTI complement each other wonderfully, providing greater depth and understanding of how a person interacts with the world [Cognitive Functions] and their motivations why [Core Desire/Core Fear].

Here are my thoughts on the MBTI and Enneagram pairs for Elliott.

Elliott - ISFP 4w3: “The Aristocrat”

“ISFP 4w3s are unique people with a touch of ambition. They perfectly combine the adventurous spirit of the ISFP and the creativity of type 4. This type has goals they want to achieve. However, these goals must be achieved uniquely.

Because of their wing, ISFP 4w3s are more action-oriented than most ISFPs. If their wing is especially strong, they’ll have a strong desire to be successful.” - Personality Hunt

Elliott’s Core Desire: To be unique or different

The core desire of the ISFP 4w3 is to be unique and to succeed uniquely. To achieve this, they ensure everything they do highlights their uniqueness.

Even at first introductions, we see Elliott as someone who dramatically stands out in Pelican Town: his manner of speech, style of dress, and his choice to live on the beach alone in a shack.

His goal in life is also unique. Not only does he want to become a successful writer, but he hopes to achieve this dream by moving to Stardew Valley.

“Ever since I was a young boy, I've dreamt of becoming a writer. When the time came for me to leave home and start my own life, I moved here. I was drawn to the peaceful beauty of the valley, and hoped that days of quiet reflection in this idyllic atmosphere would fan the literary flames.”

Elliott’s Core Fear: To be seen as ordinary or a failure

The core fear of the ISFP 4w3 is to be seen as ordinary. They don't want to blend into the crowd, so to prevent this, they'll do everything they can to stand out while being authentic to themselves.

Thanks to his Introverted Feeling [Fi] Elliott stays true to himself despite harsh criticism for pursuing his dreams; however, because his 3 wing is also quite strong, he fears failure or being perceived as a failure if he doesn't accomplish those dreams.

“Everyone back home said I was nuts... that I could never make it as a writer. Can you believe it? They said 'For every successful author there's 1000 who fail miserably'. Such pessimism... it's sickening.”

"I know that I am kind of an 'oddball'. I hope you don't mind."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

How Enneagram 4w3 changes typical ISFP behaviour:

New Strengths

1. More Ambitious

"Ambition is not the hallmark of ISFPs. Granted, it’s also not the hallmark of ISFP 4w3s. However, it’s more pronounced, thanks to their wing.

Thus, ISFP 4w3s might have goals and targets they want to achieve. If their wing is strong, they might also work towards these targets.

However, because of some of the flaws of a type 4, they might never be disciplined enough to achieve their goals." - Personality Hunt

Having Extroverted Thinking [Te] as his inferior function also makes being disciplined difficult for Elliott, though it's something he strives to improve with his ambitious nature.

Examples:

"I've been working day and night to try and finish my book... It's been driving me insane, Farmer.”

"Hello, Farmer! What a pleasant surprise! I was just stopping in to [the Saloon to] relax after an eight hour writing session."

“I feel so relieved to be done with my book... it's like an elephant's been lifted off my shoulders.”

"My new year's resolution is to write, write, and write! I can never stop improving my skills."

"Caring for babies isn't exactly my strong suit... but I'll do my best to be a good father."

2. Extremely Fashionable

"Type 4 and type 3 are both image-conscious people. Thus, they usually have a good fashion sense. This also applies to ISFP 4w3s.

They dress to perfection, combining the uniqueness of type 4s and type 3’s need to impress. If there’s something you can be sure about, it’s their dress." - Personality Hunt

Examples:

“I'm just taking a quick break to slather some coconut oil on my body.”

"What did I do today? I'll just say this... it takes a lot of work to maintain this rugged physique!”

“I'll admit... it takes me several hours each morning to make my hair look this good.”

"I have to brush my hair daily, or else it'll clump up into messy knots. It's a lot of work.”

“The sun is angry today... My skin is a bit too delicate, I'm afraid.”

"I leave early tomorrow morning [for the book tour]…I need to pack! Don't let me forget my hairbrush, my hairspray, my fine-tooth comb, and my pomegranate conditioner!"

3. More Creative

ISFPs, like most sensors, are practical people. They focus on what is directly in front of them and what they can impact in the here and now. This doesn't mean they aren't creative people, but their creativity comes out in more hands-on ways.

This is different for ISFP 4w3s. They are super creative, combining their Extroverted Sensing [Se] and Introverted Intuition [Ni] into their artistic pursuits. They can create almost anything out of nothing, making them excellent writers, designers, painters, etc., etc.,

Examples:

"... I've been dabbling in piano since I was a kid. I'm not very good, but it's fun."

“Hopefully a crab hasn't snuck onto my clothes again. Imagine crawling out of a pocket and finding yourself on a beach hundreds of miles from home! Hmmm... Perhaps this could make for an interesting novel...”

"A day can never be boring when you follow the whims of your imagination."

"A great idea can pass through your head when you least expect it… but if your mind is too busy you might miss it."

"A crackling fire adds wonderful ambience to the house... every piece of wood burns in a unique way."

"I'm doing a walking meditation. It's good for creativity."

4. More Romantic

"Type 4 is often called the romantic. Thus, it’s not surprising that ISFP 4w3s have a strong interest in love and romance.

While this is true, this does not affect their level of commitment in relationships. Just like typical ISFPs, they are in search of someone they are comfortable with.

This might make them seem flighty." - Personality Hunt

Not only does his interest in romance apply to Elliott's intimate relationships, but it can also be seen in his 'romantic' approach to life and literature, which is:

"...marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized." -Merriam-Webster

His unusual approach to life and romance makes many players suspicious of his intentions and sincerity during their first playthrough [myself included]. His fluffy words and flirty attitude cause many to wonder if he is concealing anything nefarious.

However, even though his language and personality can be mushy and over-the-top sometimes, throughout the game we see him as no less sincere than someone who says things bluntly.

Examples:

"I write in hopes of connecting with others through time and space."

"It must be satisfying to follow your crop from seed to harvest. It's as if your essence is infused into the fruit."

"Farmer, I had a feeling that you would show up. Perhaps we're connected by an other-worldly thread."

“Elliott whispers a sweet secret into your ear.”

“Yes... could I refuse that soft, kind face? The touch of spring-time's sweet embrace?”

“You're ice cold! Let me keep you warm.”

"My love... I wouldn't trade you for 100 iridium bars. Nor 1000...Not even 10,000 bars, no....No, not even 100,000 bars!...Wa... one million bars of pure iridium...? Don't make me do this..."

"I made a whole secret book of poems expressing my love for you.”

"I feel burnt out in your absence. But when I hear that sound of muddy boots on wood, my heart rises from the ash."

"Look... I fixed up that old rowboat that's been sitting by my house. Pretty nice, huh? Farmer... Would you do me the honor of joining me for her maiden voyage?”

"Some people are shy. Keep showing interest in them and they'll get comfortable around you."

5. More Competitive

Depending on the strength of their wing, ISFP 4w3s can be quite competitive since they want to be the best. However, their competitive side usually only appears in games and other social events.

Depending on their maturity and wing strength, this can be an intense drive to win or playful competition between friends and family.

Examples:

“Well, if it isn't the town's number one ice fisher! That was truly an impressive performance. I never stand a chance, but I always participate just to be sporting.”

"I'm a little out of practice, but I plan on entering the fishing contest tomorrow! You've got some stiff competition, dear.”

New Weaknesses

1. Self Absorbed

The problems of the ISFP 4w3s start here. ISFP 4w3s, just like ISFP 4w5s, can become fixated on themselves.

Thus, they might start feeling they are special. This makes them inflate their problems and put themselves first.

The downsides of this are immense. People might see them as self-centered. They might also strain their relationship with others." - Personality Hunt

The tendency to be self-absorbed creates a lot of problems for Elliott. His desire to be unique often causes him to act in over-the-top and melodramatic ways, especially when first meeting the farmer. Not only are many characters rubbed the wrong way by his melodramatic tendencies, but many players automatically judge him as problematic and pretentious, especially if it's their first playthrough.

However, this is intentional writing for Elliott's character development and while these characteristics can be red flags, they aren't always - as we will see later.

Examples:

“You've plucked Pelican Town's finest flower... Now, you must care for it with all your heart.”

"Another year gone by, another gray hair… I suppose this gift can commemorate my decline."

"Farmer, I know you have faith in my abilities as a writer. That means a lot to me."

“Sometimes I wonder if I might just have an inflated self-image and no real skills...No, no... I'm not fishing for compliments. Though they are appreciated..."

“I have to brush my hair daily, or else it'll clump up into messy knots. It's a lot of work. I'm surprised I haven't just shaved it off in a fit of passion. I suppose I am too vain.”

"Hello, Farmer! What a pleasant surprise! I was just stopping in to relax after an eight hour writing session. Bartender! Fetch me your finest ale. And bring some wine for the lady!”

2. Lower Energy Levels

ISFP 4w3s aren't the most energetic, but if their 3 wing is strong, their lower energy levels may not be that bad. Because they are sensors, they are also more action-oriented when compared to the INFP 4w3.

Examples:

“I can't seem to find the inspiration to begin writing my novel...”

"A great idea can pass through your head when you least expect it… but if your mind is too busy you might miss it."

“That's why I chose this beach as my home, so that I could have peace and quiet to do my work.”

"I spent the afternoon daydreaming about the ocean. So I decided to cook some seafood."

"I had a nice time at the beach by myself. I watched the waves come and go, just like old times."

"Winter is a great time to read books and play the piano. Remember to pause and enjoy a quiet moment or two."

“My inspiration for writing is like the weather... it comes and goes at random. Today I feel entirely dull. Perhaps I'll read one of the classics to get my creative juices flowing.”

3. Battle Between Staying Unique and Being Adaptable

Being a type 4, ISFP 4w3s want to be unique and different. However, type 3 wants to be successful and adaptable, creating internal conflict between the two types, especially if an ISFP 4w3's wing is strong. The core desire of type 4 usually wins in the end, but it's something ISFP 4w3s may struggle with for their entire lives.

Elliott struggles with wanting to achieve his literary dreams uniquely by living a lonely life on the beach. He yo-yos back and forth between wanting stability and security for his future and staying true to himself and his vision of completing his book in his own way.

Examples:

“That's why I live out here by myself. I figured a lonely life by the sea would help me focus on my literary aspirations...”

"Sorry, I'm feeling morose today. I wish there was more certainty about the future. I don't want to grow old as a lonely hermit on this beach…",

“People have scraped a living off the sea for thousands of years. I just go to the grocery store.”

"The sweet friction of pen and paper is the music of my soul. That's why I chose this beach as my home, so that I could have peace and quiet to do my work."

"It's a little lonely out here on the beach… so I apologize if I was ever a little too forward with you when we first met. I was just eager to have a friend. It feels good to have a close friend like you."

"I came to the valley to find the ivory tower from which my talents could reign supreme. But what I really found was a dungeon of loneliness. You saved me from that."

4. Emotions and More Emotions

Being Feelers and type 4s, ISFP 4w3s are very emotional people. While being sensitive to emotion can be a positive, it can also get them into a lot of trouble.

Because of their emotional intensity and Extroverted Sensing [Se] tendency to act in the moment, they can frequently make spur-of-the-moment decisions based on their feelings before thinking them through.

They can also be sensitive to criticism, even if it's constructive and tactful. This can hold them back from achieving their goals and being open to new opportunities.

Examples:

"There's just too much work to do! And my bank account's starting to run dry. Sometimes I wish I could just throw it all away and become a farmer like you."

"I had a good time at the saloon the other day… Though my liver is not quite so enthusiastic…",

“Why do you torment me? Can't you see you've shattered all my hopes and dreams.”

"Gus, I'll order a round for everyone!*hic*… Oh… I don't have the G. Heh heh… Never mind!"

"...Let's see, how do I put this...? For once, I'm at a loss for words... [Elliott leans in and passionately kisses the farmer].” -------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Path of Integration: 4w3 to 7w6

Throughout the game, Elliott struggles to enjoy his life while making his dreams of being a successful author a reality. His core fears of being ordinary and a failure - "to be just like every other failed author" - keep him locked in a prison of his own making.

As a result, he increasingly self-isolates and becomes very self-critical, pushing himself to complete his project even if it is self-detrimental.

"I came to the valley to find the ivory tower from which my talents could reign supreme. But what I really found was a dungeon of loneliness.

Elliott and Shame

Type 4s are in the Heart Triad [along with types 2 and 3] making Elliott's core fear directly related to feelings of shame:

"The core belief type 4s struggle with as a part of the shame triad is that if they aren’t unique, they are unworthy of love...[they] will wear their emotions on their sleeve, and show up as a perfectly curated image to hide that feeling of unworthiness they feel at their core" - Making Mindfulness Fun

"Hello, Farmer! What a pleasant surprise! I was just stopping in to relax after an eight hour writing session. Bartender! Fetch me your finest ale. And bring some wine for the lady!"

Because Elliott also has a strong type 3 wing, his shame is multi-faceted, adding more complexity to his core fears and behaviours:

"[Their] core belief... is that if they aren’t always achieving more, they are unworthy of love...[they] numb and ignore their emotions to deal with their shame. They believe that if they allow themselves to be human, enjoy life, and show their emotions they will be unloved. This leads them to push people away and feel stressed because they believe the only way they can receive love is by being perceived as successful." - Making Mindfulness Fun

"…What I meant is that I'd like to get away from this dark, musty prison and experience a little bit of real life... that's all. *sigh*... sorry I'm complaining like this. I just need someone to talk to now and then.”

Unconditional Love

Once the farmer gets to know Elliott better, he relaxes around them and drops his 'over the top' persona. Though he still enjoys speaking more romantically and eloquently sometimes, he isn't as concerned with having the perfect words to say. He lets his guard down, allowing his true thoughts and feelings to shine.

"Hey. "Look… I fixed up that old rowboat that's been sitting by my house. Pretty nice, huh?"

"But I am grateful that you believed in me… in my vision. And, well… Um… Farmer? How do I say this…Well, we've been friends for a while now… But I'm… I'm not sure if I feel that way about you anymore. No! I'm not saying I want to cut all ties with you! In fact… quite the opposite…Let's see, how do I put this…? For once, I'm at a loss for words…"

Elliott starts to believe that he doesn't need to try so hard to be loved - that he is worthy of love for simply being his authentic self, imperfections and all. It's through the love and support of the farmer that Elliott starts to truly embrace himself and embrace the highs and lows of life, without shame.

Elliott's Book Tour Letters

After Elliott's marriage to the farmer, we see him begin to take on the positive traits of an ISFP 7w6 in his marriage dialogue; however, the evidence of this change can be seen even more in his 14-heart event: his book tour letters.

Letter 1:

"I begin the tour this evening, at a local bookstore. I must admit, I'm becoming a bit nervous at the thought of public speaking…"

Letter 2:

"I miss you very much. Remember to eat well! Oh, and don't forget the leftover crab cakes I put in the fridge…"

Letter 3:

"Last night in Zuzu City was quite the experience! It seems there's a large literary scene here… a few dozen people showed up at my reading! I even signed a couple of autographs… it's strange to be seen as someone important. It's all a matter of framing, a grand illusion… for truly I am no one special. Only your devoted Elliott, as always."

Letter 4:

"In dreams, when graced with lofty view I gaze upon the sunlit sea What distant shores I've traveled to But time now clouds my memory There is but one eternal place Where I shall someday pass beyond In Valley dear, where my love waits: Our little home beside the pond" -Elliott

Letter 5:

"I won't bore you with any more details about my readings. They are mostly the same. I'm sure your time has been much more exciting! I can't wait to return and see what progress has been made...There's a lot to enjoy! Just don't stay out too late in the mines, my love. It's dangerous in there! If you must go… bring plenty of food."

Letter 6:

"This will be my last letter before I return home. I've had a fine trip… though nothing too exciting. It's been nice to meet people who enjoy my work, but I'm eager to return home. I look forward to the comfort of our little house, the satisfying farm work, a home-cooked meal, and most of all, cozying into the flannel sheets with you."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Conclusion

During my first playthrough, I had an unconscious bias towards Elliott. I believed that handsome men who took pride in their physical appearance, and/or spoke in a more romantic, flowery way automatically had something to hide.

Though that IS sometimes the case, it isn’t always, and I think that’s what made exploring Elliott’s character a surprising one for me.

His superficial traits rubbed me the wrong way, and I thought of him as nothing more than a self-centred, pompous, melodramatic ladies' man.

However, once I got to know him better throughout the game, I saw him not as suspicious but as a deeply passionate and highly motivated individual, who despite wrestling with his feelings of shame and unworthiness, is still unapologetically true to himself and his values despite the odds and adversity.

I think that’s how his character was meant to be written, and that subversion of expectation throughout the game made learning about Elliott so genuinely fascinating.

He's not everyone's cup of tea, but based on what we know about him, his personality, and his journey throughout the game, he has much more to offer than what first impressions might imply.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- References:

Personality Hunt: ISFP 4w3 - The Complete Guide Merriam-Webster Dictionary: "Romantic" Definition Making Mindfulness Fun: Enneagram Shame Triad Personality Hunt: ISFP 7w6 - The Complete Guide

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley)(Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 17

The flag on my mailbox has caught my eye this morning as I go out to tend to my crops. Reaching in, I pull out a familiar looking piece of paper with writing scribbled on it.

Dear Danny,

Tomorrow we’re all gathering at the beach for the annual Pelican Town Luau

The highlight of the event is the communal potluck. Make sure you bring something good to contribute! The governor himself is attending the event, so make sure you’re on your best behavior.

Come to the beach sometime between 9am and 2pm.

- Mayor Lewis

“I only have until tomorrow to find something good?! Why is he telling us this so last minute!?” I shout.

All of my crops have been considered a hit in this community. After I had given Leah the cauliflower she had asked for during my first week here, she had spread the word that I have the freshest and tastiest fruits and veggies. That should mean that I shouldn’t be as worried as I am about finding the best thing to contribute.

I usually save the best looking crops from my fields for myself, so I decided I will go through all of those fruits and veggies before anything. Although, I will probably need help deciding on what to bring.

Slinging my backpack full of food containers over my shoulder, I head out the door. The closest person to ask that wouldn’t be busy today would be Leah. I don’t really want to bother Marnie today since she is probably busy with her store and farm.

The trip over was a short one since I’m pretty used to the walk now. I’ve been here for several months so the walking always feels like nothing.

“Hey Leah!” I call out as I swing open her front door. She has told me before I don’t need to knock since she considers me a friend.

“Oh, hey Danny!” She mumbles through gritted teeth. She seems to be very concentrated on carving a piece of wood. Elliot is also here, sitting on Leah’s bed with a book.

“Perfect! I’m glad you are also here Elliot. Both of you can help me out. That is if you have a minute there, Leah?”

“Whatcha need help with? Confessing your feelings?” Elliot mocks in a playful tone. He seems very intrigued as he has put down his book.

“I need help picking what to bring to the Luau tomorrow. Lewis gave me way too late of notice and I can’t decide what item to bring.

“I don’t know how you will pick. I know I’m biased, but I think everything you have grown is good,” Leah chimes in while still working away.

“We just have to decide on ONE thing. I’m sure we can do this. I’ve brought enough samples for us. I had just cut up one of everything I had, but left a full thing of each item back at home for whatever food we decide on,” I explained to them.

“Well I guess we better get started then. I’m at a good place to stop,” Leah leaps off her stole and makes her way over to her table around the corner. Elliot and I joined her.

                                                    🌻 🌻 🌻

“Danny, I don’t think I can eat anymore,” Elliot groans, holding his stomach.

“But we still haven’t decided!” I reply with a mouth full of strawberries. I reach over to grab a handful of blueberries to shove in my mouth.

“I don’t know why you are doubting yourself. Anything you bring will be the best, I guarantee,” Leah says.

“I just don’t want to let everyone down. The governor will be here and everything, I just want to make a good impression with everyone,” I sigh.

“You’ve already done so much for the town,” Elliot begins, “everyone thinks you are the best we promise.”

“You’ve already made good impressions with everyone in town, don’t worry about what the governor thinks,” Leah adds.

“Knock Knock!” Someone sing songs from the front door area. The three of us exchange glances, wondering who it could be. We hear the door shut and footsteps approaching the corner.

“Oh no, am I missing out on a party?” Emily frowns as she rounds the corner.

“Want to help us pick out which food item Danny should bring tomorrow?” Elliot invites Emily in on the taste testing. He is trying to be sneaky and get out of helping, but he isn’t fooling me.

“Actually, I’d love to! I was just dropping off this shirt Leah needed fixed,” She holds up the shirt she had in her hand. Without another thought, she chucks it onto Leah’s bed that’s across the room and takes a seat at the table with us. “What’s on the menu!”

We go through the entire process again, this time with Emily. Elliot has stopped eating and retired to the bed with a book as he was when I walked in.

“Honestly…” Emily starts as she swallows her bite, “I can’t decide either. Do you mind if I bring the leftovers to Haley and see what she thinks? She is picky and if Haley likes something, you know it’s good.”

“Uh–um- yeah… I guess you can do that. It’ll help us decide that’s for sure,” I stutter.

“Wonderful! I will send her over to your place with your containers once she tries everything.” Emily bounces up off the chair, gathers every container into her arms, and walks out. I had to get the door for her since she had her hands full.

“You should bring yourself over there for her to taste test as well,” Elliot jokes from the bed, not even looking up from his page.

I feel my face get warm, so I start looking out the window so they can’t see me blushing.

“You didn’t deny it!” Leah chuckles as she goes back to her sculpting.

“I guess I should head back to my place and wait around for her, huh?” I utter. I anxiously tap my knuckles together a couple times.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” The two of them call out in unison as I make my way out the door. I then hear them yell “jinx” to each other as I shut the door.

I do not have enough patience to wait around all day without having something to do. But the thing is, when I know something is supposed to happen in a day, I can’t get myself to do anything except wait around.

I find myself kicking the dirt around on the ground, tossing rocks into a small pond at the corner of my farm, checking each individual crop for a sign of growth, and even picking up random acorns and pinecones. It was a full day of useless activities that did not help with anything in the slightest.

The sun has made its way across the sky, and is now barely peeking over the horizon. It casts a pink, orange, and yellow glow over the earth, with just a touch of purple from the darkening sky. I can faintly see a few stars twinkling already. The whole day had gone by, and even though I was doing mundane and weird things to pass the time, it really flew by. There was still no sign of Haley.

I take a seat on the ledge of the porch of my house, tracing my boots in the dirt to make random pictures. When I give up on that, I lean back and lay down with my legs still hanging over the ledge of the porch.

It was definitely not an exhausting day. It wasn’t even a remotely tiring day at that. But for some reason, I had fallen asleep on my porch waiting for Haley.

I woke with a start as I realized what I had done. The air has cooled significantly, and I cannot see anything around me. It was pitch black with the darkness of the night. The stars were twinkling more visibly now, and I could now see just a faint sliver of a moon.

“Shit Shit Shit,” I frantically cry out. My eyes finally adjust to the darkness. To my right, I notice a pile of containers. My containers. There was a little piece of paper on top that I immediately snatched to look at. In the neatest, fanciest writing I have ever seen, it read:

Danny,

I didn’t want to wake you, so I just put your containers here and ran home to write you a letter since I wasn’t sure when you’d wake. I was told you couldn’t pick what you wanted to bring to the Luau tomorrow, and wanted me to help you decide. I thought everything was absolutely amazing and it was definitely tough for me to pick. Although, I think you should bring a Melon. That had stuck out to me the most. It definitely had a gold star taste!

From my heart to yours,

Haley

P.S: I hope you're dreaming of me! ♡

[pariahofpelicantown]

Rain Soaked Apologies (Haley x GN! Farmer)

Summary: Haley spends a lonely night feeling alone and reflecting on her behavior towards the farmer, only to find they are there when she needs them most.

The rain lashed fiercely against the bedroom window, creating a ceaseless and unyielding pitter-patter that reverberated through the room. Haley lay curled up on her bed, her body folded into a tight ball as she wept silently into her pillow.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, mingling with the rivulets of water that streaked the glass, transforming the outside world into a hazy blend of grey and black. Occasionally, a bolt of lightning would pierce the gloom, its harsh light only serving to highlight the profound darkness enveloping Haley's soul.

As she lay there, the rain drumming a sorrowful rhythm against the window, Haley's mind replayed the day's events in an endless loop. She thought about her family—her parents no longer there, and her sister always consumed by work. The weight of isolation pressed down on her, even in a small, close-knit community like Pelican Town.

And then, of course, there was the incident with the farmer. That morning, she had been more brusque and rude than usual, driven by some unfathomable urge to push them away. Now, she was tormented by the thought that she might have alienated the one person who truly cared for her.

Haley felt a sharp pang of guilt at the memory of the farmer's expression that morning. It had been a poignant blend of surprise, hurt, and something else... maybe disappointment.

She could vividly recall the way the farmer had looked at her, eyes searching for some hint of understanding, before turning and walking away with shoulders slightly slumped. In that fleeting moment, an intense urge to call out to them, to apologize and explain herself, surged within her. But something held her back—perhaps stubbornness, perhaps pride. Now, it was too late, and she was left alone to grapple with the heavy weight of her actions and their inevitable consequences.

Haley's mind drifted back to the farmer, a tumultuous mix of emotions welling up inside her. They had shown her nothing but kindness since their arrival in Pelican Town. Despite her cold and dismissive demeanor, the farmer had remained steadfast, always friendly and respectful, never wavering in their gentle persistence.

And then there was her birthday... The farmer had gone out of their way to remember it, presenting her with a small but incredibly thoughtful gift. It was a simple gesture, yet it had pierced through her hardened exterior, making her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time... Seen. In that moment, amidst the rain and her solitary anguish, the memory of their kindness was a bittersweet reminder of what she might have lost.

Haley froze as the door to her room creaked open, her body instantly tensing at the intrusion. She hastily wiped away her tears, praying that the newcomer wouldn't notice the redness and puffiness of her eyes.

The farmer stepped into the room, their voice a soft whisper as they called out, "Haley...?"

She glanced up at them, her heart thudding in her chest, the weight of her earlier actions still pressing heavily on her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice wavering between surprise and defensiveness.

The farmer spoke gently, their voice filled with concern, "I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Haley felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over her. Even after the way she had treated them, the farmer still cared enough to come and check on her, just to see if she was okay. She couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at the thought of how she had acted towards them.

Her eyes welled up with tears once more, and she struggled to find the right words. "I'm... I'm sorry, truly. I don't deserve your kindness after the way I've been treating you," she managed to say, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

The farmer shook their head softly, a gentle smile gracing their lips. "Haley, everyone has their bad days. I know there's more to you than what you let on. I see it, even if you try to hide it."

Haley's defenses began to crumble in the face of such unwavering compassion. She had spent so long building walls around her heart, pushing people away before they could hurt her. But here was someone who saw through her facade, who cared enough to look past her rough edges.

"I don't know why I do it," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I push people away because... I guess I'm afraid. Afraid of getting hurt, afraid of being vulnerable."

The farmer took a step closer, their eyes locked onto hers with a sincerity that made her chest tighten. "It's okay to be afraid, Haley. But you don't have to face that fear alone. You have people who care about you, who want to be there for you. Let us in."

Haley remained silent for a moment, absorbed in her tumultuous thoughts. Her heart was a storm of confusion, guilt, and a strange sense of longing she hadn't felt in a long time. The warmth of the farmer's concern was beginning to thaw the icy barriers she had built around herself.

As the farmer began to turn to leave, she felt a sudden, desperate need to not be alone. Summoning every ounce of courage she could find, she whispered, "Wait..." Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the vulnerability she so often tried to hide. "Please, don't go. Stay... stay with me."

The farmer hesitated, surprise flashing across their features. For a moment, Haley feared they might refuse, that she might have pushed them too far. But then, with a gentle nod, they moved to lie down next to her, their presence both calming and reassuring.

Gently, they enveloped her in their arms, holding her close as if to shield her from the storm raging within. Haley stiffened for a moment, unaccustomed to such tender closeness, but soon found herself melting into their embrace. The warmth of their body, the steady rhythm of their breathing—it was a balm to her wounded soul.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Haley allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let someone in. She buried her face in the farmer's chest, her tears soaking into their shirt as she finally let the dam of her emotions break. All the hurt, the loneliness, the fear—it all came pouring out in a torrent of sobs.

The farmer held her tighter, their hand gently stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words that she couldn't quite make out but felt deeply in her heart. "It's okay, Haley. You're not alone. I'm here. I'm here."

In that moment, the rain outside seemed to soften, as if the world itself was offering her a moment of peace. Haley clung to the farmer, feeling a sense of safety and acceptance she had long forgotten existed. Maybe she didn't have to face her fears and her pain alone. Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to trust, to hope, to heal.

And as she lay there, wrapped in the farmer's comforting embrace, Haley felt a flicker of something new—a sense of belonging, of being seen and understood. It wasn't a solution to all her problems, but it was a start. A small, precious start.

[jojaxcola]

You've literally inspired me to wanna make my own OC mockumentaries I absolutely love your series so much 😭🙏🏻

So I wanna ask if it's alright with you, where do you get inspo for silly moments? How did you start? What are the little tidbits you've come to learn after making a few joja mockumentaries?

Awww thank you so much!! If you do end up making your own series, I hope you have a lot of fun with it, and I'd love to see it!!

(Sorry this post is late, I wanted to take my time with the answer below the cut!)

As for the "origin story" of the jojamart mockumentary and how i come up with ideas for the entries:

As for how the series started, the first time I watched The Office was on a really long flight this past October where the in-flight entertainment had all of season 3. After seeing it, it clicked why so many people loved it haha. So while riding out the rest of the flight (and for a few week after that) I thought about what it might look like if Stardew were to be adapted for television in a mockumentary-style format. (mainly just as a fun creative exercise.)

My first idea was to portray Lewis as producing an in-universe documentary to highlight Pelican Town as a whole, with the corrupting influence of Joja growing as time went on (No. 9 is probably the closest to the original vibe but I still wanted it to be a comedy). Morris, Sam, and Shane were going to be the main characters of the JojaMart plot. But I realized that the JojaMart plot thread was the closest thing to why I enjoyed The Office (being about conflicting personalities generating absurdity in a confined space). Plus Sam is my favorite character. So that's what I ended up drawing out.

I wanted the entries to look like subtitled screencaps of out-of-context clips, mainly because I see them everywhere on the internet and they're also very easy to draw:

I liked how these kinds of posts can still be enjoyed by people who have never seen The Office before (like me before October 2024) because the humor is very self-contained. So I started off making the JojaMart entries like that.

The first few were intended to still be accessible to people who had never played Stardew Valley before, sorta like they were watching a pilot episode. Those entries had to establish the basics (Sam is the cheerful, outgoing, and annoying janitor; Shane is the grumpy alcoholic shelf stocker, Morris is their boss who cares about them in a purely performative sense, etc.).

I think the general rule of thumb I follow when portraying a particular character is to write them like I have two people in my audience: one has never played Stardew before, and the other is the character's biggest fan. I don't know how well I've followed this, but it's what I have in mind when I'm writing up scripts.

Usually for inspiration I like to comb through the characters' wiki pages. I think it's useful to look at their quotes, their liked/disliked gifts, and their trivia to find little things that can be extended into a little story. For example, no. 17 was inspired by the fact that Jodi gives the player the ice cream recipe and says that it won first place in a cooking competition, and no. 18 (which followed up on 17) was inspired by a quote by Sam wondering if his mother was really happy with her life. I think it's really fun to try and combine different facts about the characters!

Some other sources of inspiration I have are:

Wanting to use a particular line of dialogue (e.g., "He kinda has this vibe that really screams 'divorced'" in no. 11)

Wanting to use a particular shot (e.g., Pierre being covered up with ads in no. 9)

Wanting to show a specific headcanon (e.g., Sam doing impressions in no. 5)

I hope this is helpful! Good luck with your work :)

[helldivers-2]

⚠️ CHEMICAL AGENTS ☣️

Premium Warbond

The Chemical Agents Warbond highlights include:

Stratagems

The TX-41 Sterilizer - High-pressure sprayer

The AX/TX-13 “Guard Dog” Dog Breath - Gassed up and ready to go

Utilities

P-11 Stim Pistol - Minor heal from a safe distance

G-4 Gas grenade - Cloud of noxious fumes

Armor

AF-50 Noxious Ranger (Light) & AF-02 Haz-Master (Medium)

These armors have the Advanced Filtration passive, so toxic cloud is your new playground.

Patterns

Another set of patterns is available for your hellpods, Pelican-1, and exosuit. This time it comes in Mustard, but do not confuse it with the kind that goes on your hot dog, Helldiver!

Plus the usual new capes, player banners and player title.

Emotes & Victory Poses

More emotes included with Chemical Agents. Let’s see if you can convince your whole squad to pull your finger.

And once you all get back to your ship, they can express their disgust with the “Ew” victory pose.

Gas up for Chemical Agents, releasing September 19th!

Full briefing.

[eelposting]

Welcome to the eel blog! This blog's goal is to reblog and post anything related to eels. Art, photography, videos, crafts, species highlights etc. as long as it is about our favorite long slimy beasts! Asks are open, feel free to show/ask me anything eel related

Mod is @gremzon , he/him, adult. Keep in mind this is just my hobby, I am not a biologist or professional, I just like eels, so I apologize if I make mistakes like identifying species wrong. Feel free to correct me in my asks, as long as you're being respectful

Tags:

Real-life things (pictures, videos): #eel-rl Art: #eel art Furry/ anthro eels: #anthro eel Eel facts: #eel facts Fake eels (like electric eels): #not so eel Memes/funny stuff: #meelme Original/ personal posts: #eelposting Asks: #talking to eels Queue tag: #eel's tail

Eel species repertory:

Species are tagged if identified, here are the species we have so far: (some species might be added but not posted yet because they are in the queue)

Fresh water eels European eel New Zealand long fined eel American eel Japanese eel Shortfinned eel Moray eels Freshwater moray eel Goldentail (banana) moray eel Green moray eel Yellow moray eel Black moray eel White eyed moray eel Blackcheek moray eel Snowflake moray eel Zebra moray eel Spotted moray eel Fangtooth moray eel Honeycomb moray eel Kidako moray eel Undulated moray eel Fimbriated moray eel Giant moray eel Mediterranean moray eel California moray eel Berndt's moray eel Stout moray eel Yellow edged moray eel Geometric moray eel Whitemouth moray eel Viper moray eel Tiger moray eel Gymnothorax parini Ribbon eel White ribbon eel Garden eels Spotted garden eel Orange barred garden eel Yellow garden eel Taylor's garden eel Conger eels Little conger eel Whitespotted conger eel Hawaiian mustache conger eel European conger eel Common pike conger eel Dagertooth pike conger eel Snake eels Spotted snake eel Napoleon snake eel Deep sea eels Gulper eel Snipe eel Prehistoric eels Anguillavus Other fish No ID

Other blogs:

Main blog: @gremzon Art blog: @gremzart Writing blog: @gremztxt

About me:

You can call me Grem, or Cain, if you prefer. My pronouns are he/him, I'm trying out it/its. I'm a digital artist who likes eels and radioactive rocks, I occasionally do HTML and craft, and I have an eel fursuit. I love my ocs so, so much, if you wanna see them, check my art blog! I'm an adult, but I am not comfortable with nsfw. I'm trans, aroace, neurodivergent, and European. I also have a website

If you wish to support my work, consider dropping me a tip on my ko-fi!

My links, if you want to find me somewhere else:

Website Bluesky Artfol Kofi

Q&A, rules and these kinds of things:

This place is a safe space, unless you support AI, NFTs and crypto stuff. Eels support minorities and hate bigots;

I do not like DNIs and trigger warnings, but as a simple rule of thumbs, don't be a prick. Asks are open but stay respectful, like I said, I'm not a professional and this is just a hobby. Also, if you are here only to say that you hate/eat eels, please don't;

Please do not send donation asks, this blog is only about eels and these kinds of things trigger my OCD;

No nsfw;

This blog is focusing on "true eels", fish belonging to the order Anguilla. As much as i love them, electric eels are not eels, sorry;

If you have a favorite eel and want me to make a species highlight post about it, ask me!

Thanks for reading, I hope you will enjoy the eels!

Last update: 18/02/25 - added species, changed "pelican eel" to "gulper eel"