#l.... leafy??? leafy greens???????

[foxsoulcourt]

variations on green : February edition

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐞.𝐦.

This piece contains 18+ content.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader [friends → lovers]

Summary Eddie holds good on his promise to take you out on a date, and as the night comes to a close, you realize you’re not ready to say goodbye [fluff, smut, 4.3k].

A/N This is the long-awaited continuation of come whatever may. You can read that first if you'd like, but enough context will be provided here. Spoiler alert: the sex is very soft, teasy, and desperate because they’re in l-o-v-e. Haven't written smut in nearly two years, but I evoked the muses of times past—and thus!...

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summer is long gone, but when you open the door to Eddie holding flowers, the warmth that rises to your cheeks makes it feel nearer than ever. It’s a vibrant bouquet composed of white roses, red lilies, baby’s breath, and leafy foliage. The wrapper crinkles as he extends them to you with an easy smile and soft hello. Your eyes flick back up to his after admiring the delicate blooms. 

There’s a healthy flush to his cheeks, his curls neat and defined. The black leather jacket he’s wearing clings to his slender frame with a polished edge. Under the weight of your gaze, he huffs out a chuckle that reminds you you’re still on earth. 

“Gonna let me in, sweetheart?” Charm drips from his voice and shimmers within his chocolate eyes. 

Nodding, you shuffle backwards, allowing him to enter and push the door shut behind himself. As he steps further inside, you can feel his gaze sweeping over your outfit. An olive-green corduroy dress layered over a beige turtleneck that’s soft against your skin. His smile grows, glinting bright enough for anyone to believe he just won the Lotto when, really, it’s just the pretty sight of you holding the flowers he bought. 

“These are beautiful.” You raise the bouquet, but Eddie’s eyes remain on you. Seeking refuge from his gaze, you tuck your nose down to inhale the sweet fragrance of the petals. “They smell amazing too.” 

“That’s all you, sweetheart.” 

You get shy when his eyes meet yours. “You like my outfit and everything?” 

Eddie swallows back a degree of his earnestness so he doesn’t sound too far gone. “Of course I do, are you kidding me?” 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Robin descends the staircase with a bag slung over her shoulder like she’s prepared to leave, hair tied up in a messy bun. Given your parents were away in Indianapolis for the weekend, you’d asked her to come over and help you get ready so you wouldn’t be alone. 

Eddie’s eyes flick to her, clearing his throat. “Did you help her pick this out, Buckley?” 

“Obviously,” she smirks. “Nice hair.” 

“It is really nice,” you agree with a soft smile. Eddie lifts a passive shoulder, chest fluttering. 

“Rob, do you think you could…” she takes the bouquet without you having to ask. The two of you had shuffled through the attic and dug out a vase earlier that afternoon. 

Eddie had promised this date, along with flowers, a week ago when you slipped away from Steve’s party to be alone. That night, he’d kissed you in the heat of the moment but wanted to backtrack and do things right. You deserved that much. 

The time you’ve been looking forward to has finally come. 

With your hands now free, the only thing you can think to do is wrap your arms around Eddie. The world goes still as he hugs you back, nerves quelling beneath your skin. For a moment, you merely enjoy the warmth of the same arms you’ve been wrapped in countless times before. With your head tucked into his chest, enveloped by the faint scent of his cologne, you release all the worries that ride on the sweeping coattails of change. For a moment, he’s just Eddie, your best friend. 

When you pull away, he leans in, tilting his head with that familiar, boyish curiosity. “You alright?” he asks quietly, searching your gaze.

You nod, a smile breaking through. He takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze, “Just checkin’.” 

Robin soon walks back into the foyer. “I put the flowers in a vase for you,” she announces, taking her hair down and shaking it out. “Hate to admit it, but you two are actually cute. It’s disgusting.” 

“Hey,” Eddie lifts his hands, laughing. “Little victories.” 

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder with a content sigh. “Welp, I’m about to go pester Harrington at Family Video.” She turns to Eddie, playfully narrowing her eyes. “You better treat her right, ‘cause best believe I’ll be hearing all about this date.” 

When she slips out the door, Eddie smiles at you in silent assurance. 

●・○・●・○・●

The sun hasn’t quite begun to set, but orange and pink faintly blend on the horizon. A cool fall breeze flows in through the cracked windows as the radio plays softly. Eddie had asked his Uncle Wayne to borrow his pickup truck because it’d be more romantic than his bulky van. You can’t say whether he was right, only that you’re grateful to be riding shotgun with him—headed to an unknown destination, no less. 

You’d already guessed through a list of places that Eddie denied with amusement. Sighing, you look out the window to people bustling about, walking dogs and strolling out of shops. You’re coming out of the more commercial side of town, nearing Lover’s Lake and the state park.  

“I give up,” you sigh. 

Eddie chuckles, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, ignorant to his warming effect on you. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you a hint.” That makes you peer over at him in interest. “If I had to guess, I’d say not a lot of people have had the chance to try it out yet.” 

That’s a dead giveaway. Your mouth falls open in surprise. “That new place along the lake—Stillwater Grill?” The twitch of Eddie’s lips is telling. “No way!” The excitement in your voice makes his chest tighten.

Stillwater was supposed to be good, from what you’d heard. A slightly elevated dining experience minus the formalities and steep pricing of a restaurant like Enzo’s. Where classic American favorites embrace small-town charm, according to the paper. 

Upon your arrival, the parking lot houses a pretty decent number of cars. Lover’s Lake provides a serene backdrop that catches the evening light. Couples stand outside admiring the view. Eddie opens your door and helps you out of the truck like a proper gentleman. You happily tuck yourself into him as you walk inside. 

When you were younger, you often wondered what love would be like. Books and the movies always presented countless possibilities, but you always believed it’d be special for you. So different that nothing else would be able to compare—perhaps, selfishly. One thing for sure, you never could’ve dreamed up someone like Eddie. 

As he sits across from you under the dim glow of the lights, laughter and chatter filling the air, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to put all this into words. Belly full, you realize what you’ve enjoyed even more than the food and cozy, rustic atmosphere was is company. 

Eddie has an inexplicably magnetic way. There was a magic in getting him all to yourself. In relishing the lovely sparkle in his eyes that suggested he was always on the verge of laughter. The passion he exuded made it seem like the way he loved a given thing was biblical. He could talk the ear off a cornfield if he wanted but knew instinctively when to listen. Even your passing remarks seemed to bear some semblance of importance to him.  

Conversing with him had always been easy, but without other people vying for his attention, you were truly able to admire the boy before you. To embrace the deepening attraction. 

As you wait for the waiter to bring the tab, you don’t realize you’ve grown silent and begun blinking at him with the fondest eyes. 

●・○・●・○・●

The wooden stairs of your front porch creak under both your footsteps as you climb them, stopping in front of your front door as the night settles around you. Moths flutter around the lanterns framing the door, crickets chirp in the lawn. Eddie kicks at a dead leaf, combing through a sea of thoughts in search of the right words. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says. You wait for him to continue. His doe eyes search yours for the briefest moment, seeing right through you it seems. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna be hard for me to quit you.” 

Your mouth opens a couple times in a mix of giddiness and surprise. “Yeah,” you finally breathe. “Yeah, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” 

Smiling, he steps forward to capture your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that you feel everywhere. It manages to outshine the first, more desperate, kiss you’d shared a week prior. This one is steady and sure, like a promise sealed with a prim bow. When he pulls away to look into your eyes, you shyly duck your head. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asks, lifting your chin. 

He doesn’t want to go, instead wishing he could stall and stay right here with you. He’s parted ways with you hundreds of times before, but now he can’t seem to figure out how he ever did. That’s how he knows he’s in trouble. The best kind. 

“I’ll pick up,” you promise. 

He stands at your door until you see yourself inside. It’s quiet without him. Your eyes land on the flowers he got you, now in a vase in the living room thanks to Robin. Too quiet. The sound of your front door reopening stops Eddie in his tracks. He turns around with a slight furrow between his brows. 

“Everything okay?” he calls, mindful of his volume. 

You make a small motion for him to come back to you. He listens in a heartbeat. 

There’s a weighted look in his eyes beneath the playfulness, “Miss me already?” 

“No,” you lie. 

●・○・●・○・●

It’s a wonder how you manage to make it feel like there’s a pleasant fire kindling within him. What started out as yet another easy conversation, has turned into you straddling his lap on the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as the TV drones in the background.

Everything feels heightened now. The brush of your lips against his, your fingers gently scratching at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie’s lips part in a soft, shuddering breath when you roll your hips over him. 

“Hold on a second, sweetheart.” His eyebrows are pinched as he pulls back from the kiss, hands stilling you. 

You blink down at him all owl-like. “Did I do something?” you murmur, purposely shifting over him again.

He restrains from canting his hips upwards. There’s a softness to his gaze even though his cheeks are flushed hot. 

“If getting me worked up counts. You’re real good at that.” His shamelessness is dizzying. “Just don’t wanna get ahead of myself.” It’s a subtle invitation, a chance for you to call things off in case you aren’t on the same page. 

But you can feel warmth pooling low in your belly. “What else am I good at?” 

He knows you’re game then. For whatever this is, whatever it’s bound to become. 

“Trying to pretend I’m not driving you crazy too.” He chuckles when you duck to hide your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. 

There’s a gentleness to the way Eddie’s hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, meeting the delicate skin of your inner thigh. 

“Eddie,” you murmur, lifting from his neck as his fingers continue their trail upwards.

“Hmm?” He pauses, thumb stroking your skin in soft circles. 

“Can we go to my room?” A slight shiver runs through you as his fingers move to trace along the crease of your thigh.

“Your call, sweetheart.” 

Before he withdraws his hand, he snaps the waistband of your panties and grins when you straighten.  

●・○・●・○・●

The lamp on your nightstand casts everything in a dim, warm glow. Eddie shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your desk chair, eyes roving over the notebooks and pens strewn about. The sight of his tattooed arms makes you move to kiss him again, letting your lips wander to the corner of his mouth and his chin in a trail of warmth. He throbs in his jeans when you slip your fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and curl them into his stomach. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away from your lips and he steps back enough to pull the fabric over his head in one swift movement, muscles rippling as the dark ink on his torso is revealed. With newly disheveled hair, he kisses you backward onto the bed, crawling over top of you as you settle into the mattress with a pleased hum. 

Having the upper hand allows him to press hot kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as you huff out sighs and caress his milky skin with buzzing fingertips. Nothing about his movements is rushed, each press of his lips intentional enough to believe he'd had them planned for years.

Eddie didn’t know your body yet, not in the way he’d like to. But he was reading it in real-time. Cataloging every writhe and hitch of your breath so he knew where to return. The obsessive part of his brain often gets on his nerves, but he’s grateful for it now. Grateful he wants to see every move and sound you can make. There’s an artistry to it, a musicality. 

An inkling of panic arises when he begins to suckle on the side of your neck as you offer it. Not because he’s being rough, but because it’s overwhelming enough to want to crawl out of your skin. A soft whimper rises up your throat as your hands find his flexed biceps, digging in. You’re unsure of whether to pull him closer or push him away. 

Eddie rises from your neck on his own accord, running a finger over the spot. “You like it when I kiss you here, huh?” There’s a slow, honeyed quality to his voice. 

When you offer a helpless nod, he leans back down again, and you shudder as his mouth laves over the same sensitive area a little ways beneath your ear. Exasperated, you blindly paw for the waistband of his jeans, fingers shaky as you fiddle with his belt buckle.

Feeling your struggle, Eddie moves to press a final kiss to your throat before pulling away from your neck. 

“Stupid thing,” you pant, pouting up at him for help. 

Chuckling, Eddie reaches down with one hand to undo it with ease. Then, watches with blown pupils as you hurry to undo the button and zipper. He slips off the bed as smoothly as he can to remove his pants, black boxers tented and straining. A spark of heat surges through you as you press your thighs together at the sight. 

No sooner is he crawling back to help you out of your clothes. The lacy underwear set you’re wearing beneath is a pretty shade of baby blue, and Eddie can’t help but palm himself. 

“Jesus,” he sounds awed and devastated at the same time. “You’re so gorgeous...” 

Before he’s even had time to process, you take off your bra, baring your chest for him to see. Your nipples pebble with the new exposure and all of two seconds pass before he’s surging forward, sending you tumbling back to the mattress in a breath of startled laughter he swallows down like a lifeline. 

You gasp into his mouth, back arching, as he cups one of your breasts, circling and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You’re barely kissing him back anymore, but he continues licking into your mouth as your lips part around shallow exhales. 

That’s when the phone begins to ring. Eddie sits back on his haunches despite your attempt to stop him. 

“Might be important.” His voice is rough. 

“They can leave a message.” 

He smirks, dragging a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

Lifting your leg, you run a careful foot over the swell of his boxers. He twitches at the contact. 

“You’re all I care about,” you murmur. “Need you, E.” There’s a desperate edge to your voice that draws him right back in.

“You’ve got me.” He runs a lone finger down the front of your panties. “Can I take these off?” You’re only half listening to his words, nodding to whatever. “Lift up for me.” The muscles of your thighs tremble as you do. 

Tossing your panties aside, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your belly button. Then another one just beneath it. A surprised sound rises up your throat when he gently spreads you open to kiss that swollen, sensitive part of you that’s pulsing with need.  

“Oh, gosh—” you stutter out, hands threading into his hair.

“Need me right here?” His voice is laced with a smile, and you can’t help a breathy laugh. Prideful warmth ignites in his chest. “Or do you need me somewhere else?” He trails playful, ticklish nips along your inner thighs, making you squirm. 

“Eddie, please…” 

He’s gracious enough to begin rubbing your clit in precise, measured circles, intently studying the pretty scrunch of your face.

“Firmer,” you instruct breathily, “—just like that, just like that.” Your legs spread wider instinctively, arching when he collects your slick with a slow, heavy finger. 

You’re already so on edge from his previous attention that it only takes a few moments before you ascend into bliss, muscles growing taut as your mouth falls agape. The strong, rhythmic pulses serve as your only touchpoint to reality along with Eddie’s tender caress at your slick, fluttering entrance. One he didn’t even have the chance to breach. 

“Look at you…” he says, voice thick. “Made it easy for me.” He laughs a little, more turned on than anything. 

“It’s not funny,” you halfheartedly assert, cheeks prickling. 

“No,” Eddie agrees. “Just super-duper hot.” 

As he raises up, you realize his other hand is tucked into his boxers, lazily stroking himself. A second wave of desire builds within you, overlapping the remnants of the first and any sense of embarrassment that had begun to kindle. It’s spurred by the deep flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes are soaking you in like he’s just witnessed the most beautiful unraveling. 

Under your hazy, watchful gaze, he scrambles off the bed. Without warning, he shoves his boxers down, kicking them from around his ankles. His arousal impressively springs up towards his stomach. You bite your lip at the rosy, leaking tip, the gorgeous vein snaking prominently along the underside. 

Eddie peeks over at you with a dazed quirk of his lips before retrieving his wallet from his jacket. He pulls out a square foil packet and promptly rips it open with his teeth. 

Upon crawling back into the bed, he isn’t expecting you to take his cock in a loose hold, stroking upwards from the curly hair at the base to circle your thumb around the tip. There’s a pleasant tug low in his gut as he kicks up in your palm. 

“Sweetheart…” His voice is soft, nearly a plea. You let your hand glide back down, this time venturing lower to cradle the soft weight hanging beneath. He nearly buckles forward. “What're you doing to me?” he rasps. 

“Nothing,” you murmur innocently, wetting your hand and giving him a few more easy strokes, enjoying the warm, veiny feel of him before withdrawing your touch. 

He curses under his breath as he rolls the condom down, his gaze never leaving you as you reposition yourself to take him. 

“Eager beaver,” you lilt as he crowds over you. 

“Yeah,” he exhales. “I am.” 

He lines up at your entrance, tip catching as he collects your slick with a wavering breath.  

You open your legs even wider. “Want you,” you murmur, breathy and sweet. 

The expression on his face is like something from a painting, raw and rapturous as he eases into your encompassing warmth. He takes it slow, giving you time to relax around him as you breathe through the dull ache of welcoming him in. A low, guttural sound escapes him once he’s buried all the way. 

Your chests brush. Tears prick in your eyes at the closeness, the feeling of being filled so completely. 

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs, lips clumsy against your chin. “Like I made you up in my head.” 

He begins moving, slowly drawing back only to push back in. A steady rhythm finds him as your mouth falls open, legs hooking around his thighs. The muscles of his back ripple with his effort, and you chart every tense line with your fingertips. 

With a low groan, he makes a minor adjustment to better reach that spongy spot within you. You arch into him with a whimper, breath catching in your throat. 

“There she is,” he whispers, reaching between your bodies to rub firm, steady circles against your clit. 

“Oh, god…” It sounds like you’re in pain even though you’re the furthest thing from it. When you close your eyes, tears stream down your face in twin streaks, surprising both of you. Eddie tenderly wipes them away, gaze soft. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “It’s just me, angel.”

Except, Eddie isn't just anything. You’ve never felt so close to someone, so in tune, and somehow, it’s Eddie—sweet, goofy, wild-haired Eddie—who knew exactly what you needed. He picks up the pace as you arch and writhe beneath him, body yielding without question.

“You feel so good,” you whimper, clenching around him. 

His groan reverberates against your neck as his hips jerk sloppily, “Can’t say stuff like that…” Those words only make you tighten around him again.

The dazed way he mouths at your shoulder lets you know he’s clinging onto composure. You’re too warm, too everything—snug, and soft, and beautiful. He’s not ready for this feeling to end. This heady, binding haze of pleasure.  

“Eddie,” you breathe softly. “Wanna ride you…” 

Your plea nearly finishes him off. “Yeah?” he croaks.

You nod, whimpering. He barely withstands the feeling of slipping from within you. Shifting onto his back allows him a moment of reprieve, but he nearly loses himself when you straddle him, sinking back down with a circle of your hips. 

You brace your hands on his ribcage, steadily rocking on top of him as your head tips back. Sweat glistens in the divot of his sternum as he attempts to move in time with you. When you speed up, he closes his eyes to calm himself down. 

“Hey…where’d you go?” You croon, grazing your nails from his chest to his quivering stomach, relishing the feeling of his warm, dewy skin beneath your fingertips.

The wrecked way he forces his eyes back open almost makes you fall apart. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as a greater sense of urgency awakens between you. It’s in the way you speed up, both eager, desperate, chasing. He memorizes the way your body moves over top of his, the bouncy sway of your chest. 

“You look so pretty taking me like this,” he shudders. “My pretty girl.” 

“Eddie…” you coo, high and breathy. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he chokes out. “Wanna feel you come around me so bad.” He’s babbling now, “Shit, I’m not gonna last. I can’t take it anymore, angel...I can’t—” 

The earnest crack of his voice sends you tumbling over the edge, vision spotting. Pleasure radiates throughout every fiber of your being as your walls contract around him. He stills your hips with a firm hold, bucking upwards and coming undone in surging waves. You slide your hands down his abdomen to feel him flex with each strong jolt that wracks him. 

As your body begins to relax, you blink down at him, lips parted as you catch your breath. Eddie throws an arm over his face as he sucks in air, neck and chest flushed pink. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. 

Both of you shudder as you ease off him. The pleasant ache of loss pulses between your legs as you partially lay down on top of him, hooking a leg over his waist. He traces along your thigh in light, soothing passes. You can feel his chest rising and falling. 

“You okay?” he eventually murmurs.

You nod, kissing his shoulder. “You?”

“I think so,” he chuckles weakly. 

●・○・●・○・●

The afterglow brings a quiet stillness to the air. Clean and beneath the sheets, you study Eddie’s long lashes, his nose, his plush lips. He eventually cracks a self-conscious smile.  

“What?” he questions. You shake your head because you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look like he believes you. “C’mon...” 

So, you think of something, a small truth you’re willing to give him, “I just really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

He hums, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. “What was your favorite part?” 

“Probably the food at Stillwater,” you say, though your fingertips are tracing along his jaw, then down his neck, trailing to his waistline to lightly brush between his hip bones as he squirms. “Best I’ve ever had,” you lilt. 

Eddie breaks into a flustered laugh, leaning over to sleepily kiss the coy smile from your lips. 

“But really, though,” you say afterward. “Thanks for tonight. Never met a guy quite like you.” 

Eddie realizes then that he’d better get a head start on counting his lucky stars. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

PART ONE

MORE

[theambitiouswoman]

Foods You Can Eat Instead of Taking Vitamins and Supplements 🍎🥥🥦🥑🍌

Vitamin A: Carrots, sweet potatoes, spinach, kale.

B Vitamins: Whole grains, meat, eggs, nuts, legumes.

Vitamin B1 (Thiamine): Whole grains, legumes, nuts, pork, fortified cereals.

Vitamin B2 (Riboflavin): Dairy products, lean meats, almonds, leafy greens. Vitamin B3 (Niacin): Poultry, fish, nuts, legumes, whole grains.

Vitamin B5 (Pantothenic Acid): Meat, poultry, eggs, avocado, whole grains.

B6: Chicken, turkey, fish, bananas, chickpeas.

Folate (Vitamin B9): Leafy greens, legumes, citrus fruits, fortified grains.

Vitamin B12: Animal products (meat, fish, dairy), fortified plant-based foods.

Vitamin C: Citrus fruits, strawberries, bell peppers.

Vitamin D: Fatty fish (salmon, mackerel), fortified dairy products, sunlight.

Vitamin E: Sunflower seeds, almonds, vegetable oils, nuts, spinach, broccoli.

Vitamin F (Essential Fatty Acids): Fatty fish, flaxseeds, chia seeds, walnuts.

Vitamin H (Biotin): Eggs, nuts, sweet potatoes, salmon, avocado.

Vitamin K: Leafy greens (kale, spinach), broccoli, Brussels sprouts.

Vitamin K2: Fermented foods (natto, cheese), animal products, leafy greens.

Vitamin L1 (Anthranilic Acid): Cruciferous vegetables (cabbage, cauliflower), legumes.

Vitamin P (Bioflavonoids): Citrus fruits, berries, onions, green tea.

Vitamin Q (Ubiquinone): Fatty fish, organ meats, spinach, cauliflower.

Vitamin T (L-carnitine): Red meat, poultry, fish, dairy products.

Vitamin U (S-Methylmethionine): Cabbage, broccoli, Brussels sprouts.

Betaine: Beets, spinach, whole grains, seafood.

Boron: Fruits (apples, pears), legumes, nuts, avocado.

Calcium: Dairy products, leafy greens (kale, collard greens), almonds.

Carnosine: Beef, poultry, fish.

Carnitine: Red meat, dairy products, fish.

Catechins: Green tea, black tea, dark chocolate.

Choline: Eggs, liver, beef, broccoli, soybeans.

Creatine: Red meat, fish, poultry.

Chromium: Broccoli, whole grains, nuts, brewer's yeast.

Chondroitin: Cartilage-rich foods (bone broth, connective tissue of meat).

Copper: Shellfish, nuts, seeds, organ meats, lentils.

Coenzyme Q10 (CoQ10): Fatty fish, organ meats, nuts, soybean oil.

Ellagic Acid: Berries (strawberries, raspberries), pomegranates.

Glucosinolates: Cruciferous vegetables (cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower).

Glucosamine: Shellfish (shrimp, crab), bone broth, animal connective tissues.

Glutamine: Dairy products, meat, poultry, cabbage.

Inositol: Citrus fruits, beans, nuts, whole grains.

Iodine: Seafood, iodized salt, dairy products.

Iron: Red meat, poultry, beans, lentils, spinach.

L-Theanine: Mushrooms, black tea, white tea, guayusa.

Lignans: Flaxseeds, whole grains, cruciferous vegetables.

Lutein and Zeaxanthin: Leafy greens (spinach, kale), corn, eggs.

Lycopene: Tomatoes, watermelon, pink grapefruit.

Magnesium: Spinach, nuts, seeds, whole grains, beans.

Manganese: Nuts, seeds, whole grains, leafy greens, tea.

Melatonin: Cherries, grapes, tomatoes.

Omega-3 fatty acids: Flaxseeds, chia seeds, walnuts, fatty fish.

PABA (Para-Aminobenzoic Acid): Whole grains, eggs, organ meats.

Pantothenic Acid (Vitamin B5): Meat, poultry, fish, whole grains, avocado

Pectin: Apples, citrus fruits, berries, pears.

Phosphorus: Dairy products, meat, poultry, fish, nuts.

Prebiotics: Garlic, onions, leeks, asparagus, bananas (unripe), oats, apples, barley, flaxseeds, seaweed.

Probiotics: Yogurt, kefir, fermented foods (sauerkraut, kimchi).

Potassium: Bananas, oranges, potatoes, spinach, yogurt.

Polyphenols: Berries, dark chocolate, red wine, tea.

Quercetin: Apples, onions, berries, citrus fruits.

Resveratrol: Red grapes, red wine, berries, peanuts.

Rutin: Buckwheat, citrus fruits, figs, apples.

Selenium: Brazil nuts, seafood, poultry, eggs.

Silica: Whole grains, oats, brown rice, leafy greens.

Sulforaphane: Cruciferous vegetables (broccoli, Brussels sprouts), cabbage.

Taurine: Meat, seafood, dairy products.

Theanine: Green tea, black tea, certain mushrooms.

Tyrosine: Meat, fish, dairy products, nuts, seeds.

Vanadium: Mushrooms, shellfish, dill, parsley, black pepper.

Zeatin: Whole grains, legumes, nuts, seeds.

Zinc: Oysters, beef, poultry, beans, nuts, whole grains.

[ariel-gremlinzkeep]

You mean to tell me you have never stabbed a head of lettuce during the Ides of March in the honor of your blorbos to curry favor for their outcomes either angsty or fluffy? Unlikely I say

I should win the poll because I am not a savage who sacrifices cookies in the name of my blorbos

[linos-luna]

Naptime ☁️

Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of anemia, but mostly cuddles and kisses

————————————————————————

Having anemia often left you feeling tired and weak. Some days were worse than others. You keep a fairly consistent schedule of talking iron supplements and napping at least once a day. Most people say taking a nap will disrupt your sleep at night but not for you. You could fall asleep anywhere really.

Unfortunately, you often felt like a burden to your boyfriend. He was often worried but he does like taking care you. Actually, he loves taking care of you…

~~~~~~~~

After going out earlier, you were sitting on the couch while the tv played in the background. It was almost 4pm and you were l exhausted.

Chan was talking to you about something as he looked through the kitchen. You were too tired to make out what he was talking about. You closed your eyes for a bit and rubbed them, forgetting about your mascara.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“Oh!” You were startled. Here he was, right in front of you. You wondered how he came from the kitchen so fast. “S-sorry!”

“Are you sleepy, babygirl?”

“A little… but… but it’s okay!” You said while looking down. “I took a nap in the car…”

“Yeah, you did… but I think you need another one.” Chan said with a smile. He took your hands, remembering how cold they were and rubbed them a bit to give warmth.

“You took your pills this morning right?” He asked with light concern in this voice.

“Yeah…”

“And ate all your breakfast?”

You nodded while rubbing your forehead.

“Hm…” Chan slowly pulled you up and led you to the bedroom. He fed you lunch as well so he wondered if this was just one of your bad days.

“Channie… i don’t need a nap…” you yawned as he laid you down on the bed.

“Mmhm… sure.” He said with a chuckle while laying down next to you. “You’re so funny.”

Your boyfriend was like a heat radiator and you loved it. You were always cold so leaning into him always felt amazing.

Chan gently kissed your lips and pulled you close. Soon your head was nuzzled in his neck as he rubbed your side. His warmth and touch was just making you sleepier and your eyelids were getting pretty heavy.

Your boyfriend hummed while cuddling. He knew you were falling asleep and he loved warming you up.

“I thought you weren’t tired, babygirl?” He teased.

“Mmm…” you groaned.

Your eyes were closed and you were basically half asleep. You were too tired to move or respond and Chan knew that.

Once asleep, chan grabbed a blanket and placed it on you. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and laid on his side to admire you.

He tapped the tip of your nose, feeling how cold it was and took one of your hands. It was still cold and he could see how it was lighter compared to the rest of your skin.

Of course this concerned him but he knew you weren’t sick. He’ll definitely have to make some iron rich foods for dinner. Something with beef and dark leafy greens. At least enough to give you more energy for the rest of the day.

Your boyfriend attempted to leave when you whined at the loss of your heat source.

“Channie…” You whined. Sure you were asleep but you were also subconsciously reaching your hand out for him.

Chan thought you were so adorable and went back to holding you.

“Don’t worry, babygirl. I’m right here.”

————————————————————————

I’m anemic so I guess this was more self indulgent 😅

[thepascalofus]

Growing on Me - Chapter One

AO3

Din Djarin x botanist!Reader

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: The Plant Species Inventory Project is a one hundred day expedition in the forests of Nevarro. You’re Nevarro’s best (and only) botanist, which is something Karga doesn’t want to risk losing. Making sure you’re safe on this years expedition, Karga hired a Mandalorian to protect you—Mando.

Series Content Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, swearing, completely made up species and/or irl species instead of canon ones, inaccurate descriptions of Nevarro (it has forests instead of lava plains), lots of biology and environmental stuff (I promise I won’t go too deep with it [i have a bio degree]), 70% strangers/30% enemies to lovers, semi-slow burn, lots of tropes (because what are tropes if we don’t use them am I right?), canon violence, eventual SMUT, eventual FLUFF, reader is described as gender neutral as possible but has female sex organs and is occasionally referred to as a girl, no Y/N, hurt/comfort, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: I have had this idea brewing in my mind for a while now. I’m so happy to share this with all of you. I truly love the topic I went to school for (biology), so this is mostly for me, oops. There will be lots of biology related stuff in this series, but I promise it will be “comprehensible”, not textbook jargon. Every single like, reblog, comment, smoke signal (that’d be a fun one), and ask truly means the world to me. Sharing my writing is a new thing for me and I’m enjoying it so far. Alsssoooo, I’m planning for this fic to be a long(er) series. 

Leaves crunched underneath your hiking boots with every step you took into the forest. Further and further in, green soaked into your vision and found its home. The forest was moderately dense. Trees of various shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the land. Distances between tree trunks varied, but gaps still allowed for traversion.

The understory was spectacular. Biodiversity could be defined in a dictionary, and a picture of this landscape would take up two and a half pages. Tall, leafy plants with elongated petioles and broad leaves gave the small shade plants cover. Tiny collections of different mosses littered the surfaces of landlocked rocks. Vines found their way up tree trunks and retreated back down, hanging from branches as thick, green ropes.

Light peeked in from the gaps in the forest canopy. Small lizards basked on rocks where the light shined especially bright. Happy, buzzing pollinators made their way from flower to flower in search of sweet nectar.

The light also reflected off of Mando’s silver beskar, and right into your eyes.

You squinted at the white splotches that harassed your vision. In response, you turned your head and ignored the man that stood in the corner of your eye. Your feet continued to weave between plants, careful not to break too many with your steps. With each step, the brown rucksack on your back bounced against your torso and your blaster patted against your thigh.

Karga lent you the rucksack to hold the maps and forms needed for the expedition. It was one hundred days out here. You’ve done longer land surveys and experienced plenty of joy from doing them. But you were with your university mentor then.

Now you’re with Mando.

Karga insisted that the Mandalorian come with you. You sauntered into his office this morning to retrieve the rucksack and its contents, and were met with two men instead of just the High Magistrate himself. Karga pulled you aside and told you to, “think of him as more of an assistant,” but you knew he truly hired the man donning beskar to protect you.

You rolled your eyes in response, but thanked Karga nevertheless. The Plant Species Inventory Project was in its third year, and you were on your third year of running it. Every year you hiked through the surrounding forests of Nevarro for one hundred days to document the species of the forest.

But last year you had to stop early due to receiving a venomous bite from a lizard. Karga called in an airlift and had you rushed to the hospital. The doctors said that if you had arrived five minutes later, you would’ve been dead.

This year, Karga decided that your knife and blaster weren’t good enough against lizards. Instead of getting you better self defense tools, he bought a Mandalorian to protect you. From the lizards.

Right before you passed another rock with a lizard sunbathing on its peak, Mando made his way over to you and put his body between you and the rock. You huffed in response. The lizard had brown, pointy skin with splotches of blue along its back.

“That one is harmless, Mando,” you deadpanned to the man.

“Yeah? How do you know?” He quipped in response.

Taken aback by his sudden eagerness to talk to you—he hasn’t said a word to you since you both left Karga’s office—you quickly explained, “The harmless ones, Glendia ropensis, have blue spots on their back. The venomous ones, Glendia frediama, have green spots.”

Mando turned his helmet to look at you. You stared back at him, directly in his black visor. Other people have told you bits and pieces of folklore about the Mandalorians. The galaxy’s best warriors. They trained to develop their fighting skills as soon as they were old enough.

Yet, the beskar man didn’t phase you. Karga wouldn’t send you into a remote forest with a man he didn’t trust…right? You trusted Karga and his judgment, therefore you trusted Mando to not kill you.

“I thought you were a botanist?” The shiny man stated in confusion.

“I am,” you replied, “just because I know plants doesn’t mean I can’t know animals.”

His helmet tilted in a “fair enough” motion and you two continued to trek through the forest. Mando cleared his throat, “Karga said you were Nevarro’s best botanist.”

“I am,” you repeated, then continued with tight lips, “I’m also Nevarro’s only botanist.”

The man hummed, the sound crackling through the helmet. Facing forward, your gaze drifted downwards to the array of plants on the forest floor. Different leaf shapes popped out at you. Some plants had bright flowers while others lacked them.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Your watch went off, signaling for the first sampling. Bringing your rucksack around your shoulder and in front of you, you plopped it down on the ground and opened the sack. A holopad and two cubes were held in your hands as you brought them from out of the brown bag. 

Flipping the switch on one of the cubes, you tossed it to Mando. He stood there, examining the device, while you pulled up the proper programs on the holopad. One program mapped your hike while the other helped you record the species you sampled. You tucked the holopad under your arm after setting up your sampling preferences.

You looked up to see Mando fiddling with the cube you gave him. Your hand whose arm wasn’t holding the holopad flicked the switch on the corresponding cube.

A hologram square projected out of the cubes, the devices corresponded to two diagonal corners of the square. You walked closer to the Mandalorian and the square shrunk. You walked further and the square grew.

Selecting a small rock protruding from the ground, you set the device on top of it. Mando picked up on your motions and found a log to prop the corresponding device onto.

“Don’t all of the sampling plots need to be the same size?” The silver man questioned.

You retrieved the holopad from under your arm and tapped the screen to initiate the calculations on the size of the plot. Looking up from the holopad you pointed to the screen, and replied to Mando with a hint of sass, “The programs standardize everything, so the sampling plots don’t need to be exact.”

His gaze bored into yours while the program calculated the dimensions of the plot and ran other diagnostics of the area. You raised an eyebrow at him, shifting your weight to one foot, “Do you not trust Nevarro’s best botanist?” You asked jokingly, yet with a tone of seriousness.

At first Mando didn’t respond in words, but his shoulders rose, as if he let out a silent laugh at you. He shook his head, helmet rotating from side to side, “It’s only been a couple hours, we’ll see,” Mando drawled. Light glinted off the beskar donning his head as he turned to observe the surrounding woods. 

Bending down, you began to assess the leaves of the first plant to identify. The veins were parallel, running side by side to each other. Leaf arrangement was alternate, no two leaves shared the same growth point on the stem. No vein on the plant touched. They all went and came from the same direction, never meeting.

The second plant had net-like veining on its leaves. Veins crossed and morphed into each other. Leaf arrangement was opposite. Pairs of leaves pinched the stem with their petioles and crossed it perpendicularly. Every feature on the small herb met and weaved together. Each vein could only be minutely distinguished among the web of veins working together to keep the plant alive. 

Stenica aparinese and Wortanum tortanumus.

The pair of you haven’t met before. You knew nothing about the beskar man, besides that he didn’t talk much. But it had only been a few hours, as Mando said before, and you still don’t feel like your paths have crossed. Even though you two have been walking side by side. 

—

You completed ten samplings before you decided to call it a day. Squatting over plants and counting petals wasn’t mentally difficult, but it was physically. Knees aching and thighs burning, you two made your way through the maze of trees. The holopad glowed in the fading sunlight and aided you in finding the nearest safehouse. 

Footsteps created a chorus of crunches that echoed off the tree trunks. Your gait was focused on avoiding the small, rare plants on the forest floor. Occasionally, you’d stop to get a closer look at some—having never seen them before. 

Mando would pause behind you. His large hands settled on his belt, palm resting near his blaster. The helmet swiveled from side to side as he dragged his gaze over the forest. He would wait patiently near you as you took notes about the species, attempting to identify it. 

“Are we good to go?” He’d grit out after a couple minutes. 

You stood up from a squat and clicked the holopad off, throwing him a quick nod. The crunching chorus resumed, feet finding pockets of common grasses and clovers. Mando’s heavy boots tried to fall within the same pockets of green that yours did, but his success was debatable. 

Sunlight shining down from the canopy became scarce, but not obsolete. The blaster hanging in a holster on your hip tapped against your thigh. The crunches caused by footsteps were accompanied by a cadence of muted pats.

Mando cleared his throat, a sound that choked out of the helmet’s modulator, “Do you know how to use that thing?” The beskar man asked.

You turned to face him, stopping in your tracks. You’ve never had to shoot it, the blaster hung from a holster just in case you needed it. But it can’t be that hard, right? Just point and shoot.

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, “you just point and shoot.” Thinking that was an acceptable answer for Mando, you turned to continue towards the safehouse.

“Just point and shoot?” Dry exasperation churned out like gravel from his helmet. 

Lips became a line on your face, and your torso faced him again. Before you could start speaking, he cut you off. “You haven’t used it, have you?” Mando sighed.

You crossed your arms over your chest, exhaustion took over your expression, “Why does it matter? Does a Mandalorian need back up?”

Head turning, your footsteps resumed towards the safehouse. The holopad indicated it was less than fifty meters away. A warm shower and a comfy mattress sounded better than a shooting tutorial—from a man destined to be far better at it than you—would be.

Mando sighed and continued behind you. “What’s the point of carrying a blaster if you don’t know how to use it? If you’ve never shot it?” His helmet gave his tone a sharp edge.

“So I can look like I know how to use it. I don’t want to use it.” 

It was true. You didn’t know what you would do if you actually had to use it. Your biology courses always talked about the fight or flight response, but they rarely talked about freeze.

That’s probably what you would do. You’d freeze. 

“Firing bad shots at someone who does know how to use it, makes you look like you don’t know how to use it,” Mando said matter-of-factly. 

Shoulders dropping, you sighed and trekked forwards. “Look, I know that the bolt comes out of the barrel and to point it at what I want to shoot. And pulling the trigger fires the blaster. I feel like that’s good enough for now,” you rebuked. 

Thankfully, Mando dropped the subject, since the gray exterior of the safehouse came into view. The small building formed a basic cube of cement walls. Only a few windows interrupted the slabs of stone, and they were dark, bleak. Near the tree-brown door was the only sign that the safehouse wasn’t a long-lost monument—a glowing, yellow keypad. If you were the only humans in the forest, the safehouse shouldn’t have been used since last year. 

Approaching the brown door, you dug into your memory for the code that allows entry. Karga asked you what code you wanted when he had them built throughout the forest. 

That’s right! The code is your birth date.

You pressed the corresponding keys, the yellow glow bathed your fingertips in a warm light. The brown door slid open once the last key was pressed. Before you could even find the kriffing lightswitch, a crackle came from behind your head.

“What’s the code?” Mando asked with intention.

Mando must have assumed that you knew where the lightswitch was, because he continued his path over the threshold and directly into your back. The momentum from his body ramming into yours made you stumble, falling towards the wooden floors. You brought your arms up to brace yourself for the harsh impact.

And they hit nothing.

Instead, a large, gloved hand settled on your stomach and pulled you upwards. The muscles of his arm pressed against your side and burned their warmth into your skin. Suddenly, you were back on your feet and the lights were turned on.

You turned around, eyes wide in shock at the speed of events. Mando’s gloved finger dropped from its position under the switch. “Sorry about that,” he sighed.

Acting like he didn’t just seamlessly haul you back to your feet with one arm.

A feeling that was foreign—but not too foreign—seeped from your chest down to your stomach. The ticklish warmth emanated throughout your body in all directions. The same feeling you opted to tune out at while you were at university. Shit.

One guy put a hand on you and now you have butterflies? C’monnn. 

Just like every other time, you blockade the warmth from spreading too far out. Mentally, barricades went up before the feeling could leave your torso. It’s better to stay focused on the task at hand.

Shhkt.

The Mandalorian pressed a button that triggered the door to slide closed.

“Um…”

Were you supposed to thank him? Scold him? Leave it at that? Your mouth tightened and you gave the Mandalorian a curt nod and a, “Thanks.” 

Before receiving his reaction, you turned your back to him to assess the layout of the safehouse. A small, cozy living room with a fireplace filled up most of the space to your left. Knit blankets were draped over the thick cushions that sat upon the wooden furniture frames. 

The space continued into the equally small kitchen. Basic silver appliances filled up most of the kitchen space. Simple, gray pantry doors blended with the small, semi-shiny machines. On the right of you were two doors, one you assumed contained the fresher, and the other containing beds.

Turning to your left, you removed your bag and plopped onto the thick cushions of the couch. The burning in your legs made you unconcerned about making food for dinner or discussing sleeping arrangements.

The burning—or maybe lack thereof—in Mando’s thighs didn’t dissuade him from being persistent.

Mando sauntered over to the couch you were laying on. The thunks of his heavy footsteps became louder as he grew nearer. “Are you going to tell me the code?” Mando’s helmet came into your line of sight as he towered over your slumped figure.

You groaned, “Are you going to stop walking into me?”

The horizontal line of his visor tilted in your view, signifying a, “really?” emotion. His shoulders dropped, “I just want to be able to get in and out of the houses.”

Begrudgingly you told him the code, “It’s my birthday,” you explained.

“Oh, uh, happy birthday.” He gave you a curt nod and turned to walk into the kitchen.

A small smile spread across your face, and you sighed once more, “Today isn’t my birthday, metal man, the code is my birthday.” You propped one of your elbows on the couch to look over the back of the couch at him. He stood against the small metal sink, arms crossed. His large hands grasped his biceps on each side of him. The Mandalorian made the sink look like he stole it from a child’s playset. 

Once your gaze landed on him, his shoulders slumped. The T-shaped visor looked away from you and towards a map displayed on the wall. Silence ensued over the space. You too glanced at the map—yet there was nothing particularly noteworthy about it.

Mando’s visor pivoted on his shoulders and returned your gaze. After a few seconds his helmet crackled to life, “You’re getting a shooting lesson tomorrow morning.”

Your brows furrowed together and slanted downwards. “Ugggghh. I thought I told you I was good for now,” you gritted out. You let your elbow give out from underneath you and you flopped back down onto the couch cushions. 

A rumbling noise came from over the back of the couch. Footsteps followed. The heavy boots Mando wore sent muted dunks your way—then they ceased. A black T framed by silver entered your view yet again.

“I’m not good with it. Tomorrow morning after you eat,” Mando finalized.

You maintained “eye contact” with him after you rolled your eyes. Instead of staying awake—sore—and putting up with his banthashit, you willed your body to get up and to one of the wooden doors on the right side of the safehouse. Bending down, you scooped your bag onto your shoulder. Hopefully the room was the fresher.

A few paces. The turn of a doorknob. Creaking door opened. A sink, similar to the one in the kitchen, welcomed you with—metal arms? Either way, you were glad to be able to get to clean yourself after a long day. The heavy backpack slid from your shoulder and onto the floor in front of the silver sink.

Turning to close the door, you look up and Mando’s stare is directed at you. An eyebrow of yours raised, directed at him. He began to saunter over to the door next to the freshers’. His bag hung from a large, closed fist at his side.

His frame passed the threshold, making the rectangular entrance appear much smaller. A heavy object hit something soft. Hopefully Mando was finally laying down so you could be left alone. You paused for a couple seconds to see if the heavy footsteps would resume—but nothing.

Relief flooded your body, giving you the idea to close the door and get ready for the night. Water washed away the remnants of soil, tiny pieces of bark, and fragments of shed leaves from your skin. Liquid that once ran dark down the fresher drain steadily turned clear. Your body was a sponge, sucking the warmth from the water into your bones.

You finished your pre-sleep routine and ventured over to the room that contained the beds. Calling it a bedroom was too homey for this space. It was more of a room bunk beds would be kept in at camping lodges. Except there were only two adult-sized beds. And Mando’s confusedly still-silver frame covered most of the bed he chose. He laid on the mattress like someone was giving a eulogy—for him.

Peeling your gaze away from the Mandalorian’s mummy-like body, you peeled back the blankets and shuffled onto the mediocre mattress. You faced away from Mando, getting a nice view of a generic forest picture framed on the wall. It was the only decoration in the room.

“Night, metal man,” you murmured. He was already asleep, why not tease him again?

The helmet crackled to life.

“Metal man earned you one lesson. Say it again and you’ll earn another,” the words gritted out from the beskar helmet.

You laid in your bed, wide-eyed. Not knowing what to say, and honestly too tired to have this conversation, you opted to say nothing. After a couple moments, you heard shuffling from over your shoulder. The helmet crackled once more.

“Night.”

Your eyes drooped once your brain knew that social interaction was no longer required for the night. The pillow beneath your head lulled your slumber closer and closer.

“Ruus,” came from behind you.

Too tired. So sleepy. You’ll ask in the morning.

—

You woke up to birds chirping. Their calls and songs came in through your cracked bedroom window. Naturally, your brain deciphered the individual calls.

Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.

Shrrrrrk. Shrrrrrk.

Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki.

A common house sparrow, a buzzard, and a finch.

You shuffled around in your bed seeking a couple more minutes of comfort before your alarm inevitably went off. Mattress providing a soft cushion of support for your body, pillow delightfully cold against your face, and your eyelids heavy, your body absorbed your surroundings and let them influence you. Everything influenced you to stay the fuck in bed. Shifting in and out of consciousness, your blurry dreams pulled you further into a deeper slumber. 

Dawn quickly approached, signaling for the birds to scream at each other that they’re awake. Bird calls blared through the air like tiny sirens. The rays of sunlight shone through the slits in the window blinds.

The extra-loud bird sounds snapped you out of your dreamlike state. Your gaze was trained on the warm glow of sunlight seeping into the room. Everything was natural. Ethereal. In sync and calm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Dank farrik. Whipping the duvet off your body and swinging your legs to let your feet touch the ground, you hurriedly zipped open your bag to find the holopad. Once your hands found it between clothes and your notebooks, you clicked it on. The bright screen made your eyes squint at the device. Clicking the screen once more, the alarm was silenced. Now that the blaring ceased, your mind began to catch up to your surroundings. 

Oh kriff, the alarm probably woke up Mando. Your voice was a whisper, “I’m sorry if that woke yo–.” You turned towards his bed and the silver frame of his body was no longer there. Once you noticed his absence, you quieted yourself and listened for any noise. Nothing.

But then you smelled caf. 

Your brain put two and two together. Your thoughts slowed down. After a second, you rummaged in your bag for a change of clothes and your toiletries. Once your outfit was changed, you strode over to the door and aimed to enter the fresher.

The wooden door opened to reveal Mando sitting on the couch, reading something on his holopad. Hopefully the helmet muffled any sounds you could make. You took one sock-clad step over the threshold. Then another. And another. Only a couple more until you reached the other door.

“Morning,” Mando’s speech crackled.

You turned towards him, holding up a hand, offering a quick, “Morning,” back. He didn’t say anything afterwards. Slunking into the fresher, you closed the door behind you and began your morning ritual. 

Mid-teeth-brushing, you remembered last night.

“You’re getting a shooting lesson tomorrow morning.”

Fuck.

Well, wouldn’t Mando remind you the moment he saw you in the morning. You didn’t even set one foot inside the safehouse before he demanded the code for the door. Maybe he forgot. You can only hope.

The wooden rectangle swung on the hinges, opening the fresher. You stepped out and made your way to the kitchen. Before you entered the pantry covered space, you glanced over Mando’s shoulder to see what he was reading. His gloved finger clicked the holopad off before you could get a good look. Silver beskar filled your vision as he leaned forward to place the holopad on the empty table in front of the couch. 

You continued to the kitchen, too hungry to care. Reaching into a cabinet, you retrieved a mug, then poured a generous amount of caf into it. In the adjacent cabinet were ration packs and miscellaneous hiking-friendly snacks. Trail mix. Jerky. Protein bars. Cans lined one section of a shelf—in case anyone wanted to craft their own meal, instead of tearing open a ration pack.

Being Nevarro’s best botanist had its perks, and one was that you helped Karga set up these safehouses. So your favorite ration packs were always in stock.

You reached for one and opened the pack, eager to satiate your stomach. Your fingers found the lip of a drawer and pulled, revealing small piles of cutlery in a wooden organizer. The same fingers danced over the utensils, determining which one you preferred. Opting for a spoon, you took the utensil and fed yourself generous spoonfuls. Hiking did a number on your hunger, plus you needed the energy.

After a few sips of your caf, finishing half the mug, and a ration pack, you leaned against the counter and observed the back of Mando. His large frame nearly spanned across an entire couch cushion. Silver donned his shoulders and traveled its way down his arms, towards his hands. He spread his wingspan across the couch, exaggerating his size—not that he needed to. The Mandalorian’s leather-clad fists also donned beskar on top of them. One of his fists flexed and relaxed in a slow rhythm. 

Bubbling began at the center of your stomach, threatening to boil over into the rest of you. Heat bloomed near your face at the sight of him.

Nope. Not happening.

You peeled your gaze away from his figure and went to wash the mug. Thoughts wandered and yours landed on how Mando still hasn’t mentioned the lessons. Maybe you got off this time, you got lucky. Warm water poured over your grasp. Suds coated the shiny surface of the ceramic drinkware. The faucet let out a steady stream of water, and it dribbled against the metal lining of the sink. Soundwaves from the water traveled to your ears, which blocked the sounds of Mando’s footsteps approaching the kitchen.

You shut the faucet off and turned to place the mug back into the cabinet. The Mandalorian’s towering beskar figure standing in the space between the living room and the kitchen made you gasp in a lungful of air. 

The modulator in his helmet crushed the tone of the sentence he spoke, “Let’s go, time for your lesson.”

Shit.

—

“You’re holding it wrong,” Mando stated sternly.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at him, “I’ve been holding it for, like, ten seconds. Not even.” Instead of focusing on the black T stamped on his silver helmet, you shifted your attention to the stump of a fallen tree. It was covered in moss and mushrooms, decaying. The fallen trunk with dense branches sprawled out on the forest floor behind the stump. Light could barely make it through the thick foliage.

Metal man insisted that the lesson should take place at a location far from the safehouse, “to keep it hidden, in case anything hears the blaster shots,” he reasoned. You supposed that it wasn’t a bad explanation, but the hike before your lesson was challenging. Mando guided you through the forest for so long, you thought he forgot about the lesson. But he didn’t. And this lesson sucked.

You were having more fun looking at the ground around you. A couple different leaf shapes popped out at you from below. Flowers were scattered throughout the area, and you matched them to their respective leaves, giving you quick identifications. 

Mando used one of his gloved fingers to tap you on the shoulder. The gesture returned you to the present moment from your resentful thoughts. His leather-gloved hands gripped his own blaster. It was much larger than yours, yet his grasp consumed the handle of the weapon. Another broad, gloved hand covered the one gripping the handle. 

Your hands attempted to match him on your own blaster. It was clear that you were struggling. Eyes in slits and brows furrowed, your gaze repeatedly shifted from his grip to your grip. Fingers stumbled to find their rightful places. Instead of giving up, you settled on something that sort of resembled the position his hands were in. 

His helmet tilted downwards at you and cocked to the side, another expression of, “really?” This gesture seemed common with him. Metal clicked onto metal when Mando re-holstered his blaster. Then, his hands were on your blaster, giving the weapon a slight tug to release it from your grip.

You thought he was going to demonstrate on your considerably smaller blaster. Instead, he grabbed the barrel of the blaster and pointed the handle at you. His other hand reached for your wrist. Worn, warm leather slid against your skin. A wide palm rested against the back of your hand. Thick fingers formed a loose—but stern—grip around the base of your palm. 

His hand was so warm. And strong. Every movement was done with purpose and confidence. The grip he had on your hand guided yours to the handle. Once you grasped the metal you expected him to let go, but his hold remained. Small flecks of light glinted off the barrel of the weapon when Mando turned your wrist.

Light shined off the helmet as well. He leaned down to check if your fingers were in the right places. Spotting an incorrect placement, he used his other hand to nudge a finger downwards and onto the handle. He nodded, “Good.”

The short praise sent heat flying towards your face, and you willed for it to sink back down. His thumb shifted on your wrist, giving you slight goosebumps. How could his fingers be that thick? And his hands so strong? What would they feel li—.

You backtracked in your head. Nope. You didn’t want to go there. You had one hundred days in this forest with this guy, and you had a job to do.

Mando took your other hand with his other hand, and placed it on top of the one gripping the handle. The hold he had over the new hand tightened. In exchange, your own grip tightened over the handle.

“This hand,” he tightened his grasp once more, “squeezes down on this hand,” he rasped as he shook the wrist holding onto the warming metal. Each squeeze threatened the bubbling in your stomach to evaporate into the rest of your body, but you repressed it. Managing to control your pointless butterflies, you did as he explained, and the hold you maintained felt better than it did previously. 

As you raised the blaster up towards your eye level, Mando stepped away. Shutting one eye, you looked down the barrel and at the old tree stump. Your arms were both steady and relaxed. Remembering only the second half of Mando’s lecture from earlier, you spaced your feet shoulder width apart, and squeezed your grip around the trigger.

A bolt shot out of the end of the silver barrel and into the top of the tree stump—much higher than where you aimed. Crackling came from your right, “The piece of metal at the end of the barrel needs to line up with the notches above the trigger.”

You let out a heavy exhale, that information was in the second half of his lecture, “That’s what I did,” you told him. He let out an exhale in response, but his was in amusement, “Well, you didn’t hit the center,” his head jerked towards the stump to make his point.

He stood with his hands on his belt, shoulders back, with one knee out. Chrome plated armor gleamed from the sun coming in through the forest's canopy. His dark leather and clothing contrasted the bright metal. Without seeing his face, you knew he had a smirk on it. 

You huffed as you turned towards him, “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?”

He gave you his signature head tilt towards the side, “You know that I would hit it,” he stated.

Honestly, you knew he could. The man is fully decked out in beskar armor and carries several weapons with him at all times. But you were fed up with the slight smugness he exuded. “Do it,” you challenged him.

Before you could even register he was doing so, he pulled his blaster from its holster. With a firm grip and confident aim, his blaster bolt hit dead center into the tree stump. Just as quickly as he pulled it out, he re-holstered his blaster and looked at you. 

His incoming responses went through your mind, “It’s because I don’t suck,” “Don’t even bother,” “Why’d you buy a blaster in the first place?”

“Just try again,” his helmet gritted and the black T shook from side to side, “I’ve just been doing this longer than you have. It takes practice.”

Without thinking, you responded, “And what is ‘this’?” The Mandalorian gave you a stare—not like it wasn’t always a stare—but his helmet didn’t move a bit, unlike the usual tilts and shakes you had been getting. 

“If by ‘this’ you mean shooting, then I’ve been shooting since I could hold a blaster. If you mean my profession, my occupation has required shooting since I’ve been an adult,” his voice stated, sounding like churning gravel.

Both of your eyebrows lifted and your eyes widened. You tried to hide it, but you probably failed. Only a few professions in the galaxy required shooting all of the time.

“So you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked with confusion, your mouth semi-dry.

Mando nodded, “Yes, now try again,” he pointed towards the stump.

‘Okay cool, we’re just going to gloss over that one?��, you thought. Instead of voicing your inner monologue, you raised the blaster once more. The metal lined up with the notch and you squeezed the trigger. Your shot landed half a meter above Mando’s. It was far from his shot, but much closer than your previous one.

“Better. But you flinched,” Mando critiqued. His gloved hands rested on his hips and his visor bored into you. 

Trying again, the notch lined up with the metal as you peered down the barrel. Instead of holding your aim and then getting ready to fire, you fired as soon as your barrel lined up with the center of the stump. Energy left the end of the blaster and shot into the decaying wood. It landed about fifteen centimeters above Mando’s.

You heard crunching on the ground as the Mandalorian walked towards you. Lowering your blaster, you pointed the barrel at the ground. Maker, if he showed you how to hold the blaster again, you were going to lose it. Once he reached you, he stood in front of you, hands clasped in front of his belt buckle.

The helmet crackled to life, “Good job. Those were better than my first shots,” he stated plainly, then turned, “Let’s get going.” Before waiting for your response, he continued on into the dense forest.

—

The section of the forest you just entered was darker than any other area the pair of you had been in previously. Light barely made its way down from the forest canopy. Shade-loving plants bathed in the lack of light. Small rodents scampered from shrub to shrub, picking the fruits off of their stems. Scuttles were heard in all directions, creating a chorus of sounds influenced by food-web interactions. 

Mando decided to lead the way. His helmet remained on a swivel as he constantly scanned the area. You had been this way before and knew there was nothing harmful, it was just dark and ‘scary’.

Then the scuttles stopped. And in response, Mando stopped. Which made you run right into the back of him. “Ufff!” You let out as your chest collided with his back. Rough, black fabric scratched against your face. It smelled like wood and musk, but in a good way. Did he usually smell like that or was it just the forest?

You pushed yourself off of him and stayed behind. Mando held a hand out to his side in a, ‘stay behind me’, signal. Everything froze, and left you freezing with it.

Then you felt it.

The ground shook softly. A steady rhythm of shakes became increasingly more intense. Trees sensed the waves too, as their leaves rattled above. You looked downwards and noticed that Mando retrieved his blaster from its holster. His stare was locked forwards. Almost as if he was looking beyond the dense foliage into the distance.

Dun. Dun. DUN.

Each shake caused your feet to vibrate in your boots. And then they stopped. In front of you, the large silhouette of a creature made its way through the foliage and towards you both. You squinted into the darkness in an attempt to identify the creature.

And Mando fired his blaster.

[vodika-vibes]

Hehehehehe

2nd request:

Love oo

Jango (thats for you) , undersea, and hurt/comfort.

POW

Summary: The Tritones, merfolk with fishtails, and the Cecaelia, octupi merfolk, have been at war for centuries. Battling for land and prestige and the right to rule the oceans. The Haliae, the sea nymphs, have always sided with the Tritones, while the Chordates, merfolk with eel heritage, have always sided with Cecaelia. You are a Chordate, recently conscripted to the war effort, and captured by a Tritone War Party. And now, you’re little more than a prisoner of war. At least your jailer isn’t cruel.

Pairing: Pre-Jango Fett x Reader

Word Count: 2669

Prompt: Undersea AU/Mermaid AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So this took me all morning to write because I kept getting distracted. I hope you like it though!

“Dinner,” You scrunch up your nose as the night warden pushes a plate of kelp and some other leafy foods into your cell. You uncurl from where you were settled on your tail in the corner, and move the short distance to the place, absently lifting the greens to look for food you can actually eat.

You’re people are carnivores.

Obligate carnivores, even. You couldn’t digest this stuff if you tried.

But it seems like the Tritones seem to think that you can change your nature if you try hard enough.

Just one more reason why there will never be peace between the two sides.

“Being picky again, eel?”

You cast your gaze towards him, “It’s not being picky,” You counter flatly, the language of the Tritones awkward and clunky on your tongue, especially when compared to the more musical language of your own people. “I’m incapable of digesting this. Which I know that you know because I’ve told you multiple times.”

The guard opens his mouth to say something, only to stop when the door at the end of the hallway swings open, and a dark skinned Tritone swims down the hall.

“Prince Jango!” The guard snaps to attention, and you roll your eyes as you swim back to your corner. “What brings you down to the dungeons at this time of day?”

Prince Jango peers into your cell, and then at the plate of food sitting on the small table, before he looks back at the guard. “I’m ensuring that our guest isn’t being mistreated.”

“We would never!” The Guard genuinely sounds offended.

“Which is why you’re giving her food that she can’t eat?” The Prince asks with an arched brow.

The Guard pauses, “She might like it-”

Jango sighs, “You realize that this isn’t a question of like, right? Her people, genuinely, can’t digest plants. Their stomachs are meant for it.” He opens the cell door with his key, and swims in to take the plate, “Bring her a proper meal.”

“Ah…yes, my Prince.” The Guard bows and takes the plate before he swims away.

Jango turns his gaze to you, “I apologize for that.”

You wave your hand, dismissing his concerns, “It’s hardly the first time a Tritone or a Haliae have tried to make me more palatable for them.” You swim closer to the door, and then make a face. From the top of your head to the tip of your tail, you stand at almost 11 feet long. 

You can go from one corner of the cell to the opposite corner, and still have some of your tail coiled. These cells were not made for a Chordate…heck, you’re not even that long! You’re the runt in your family.

Jango is quiet for a moment, his dark eyes lingering on the way that your tail is still coiled in the corner, “Would you like to stretch your tail properly?”

You blink at him, “Is that allowed?”

He chuckles, “I am the Crowned Prince of Atlantis. Of course it’s allowed.”

You tilt your head, “You do know that I can swim faster than you, right?”

He just grins at you, “I’m not worried about you running off. After all, you didn’t even try to avoid the War Party.”

“You’re not wrong, but you don’t have to say it.” 

His grin widens, and he opens the cell door again, motioning for you to follow him.

You follow him through the winding halls, and you’re grateful that he seems to be doing his best to avoid large groups of people. You already get treated like an exhibit at the museum, and your temper is slightly more foul than it should be, given your situation.

“Here we are,” Jango comes to a stop in a massive reef that his family has been cultivating for generations. It’s a rather well known reef, even people in your people's territory have heard of it.

You swim a little bit away from Jango and stretch out properly.

Once you’ve managed to work the kinks out of your back and tail, you settle onto the soft sand and flip your tail so you’re able to look at the underside. You’ve been carefully monitoring a sore that appeared several days ago, though it doesn’t seem to be healing. 

“...you’re hurt.” Jango swims up behind you, his gaze lingering on the sore, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think anyone would care,” You reply honestly. 

Jango frowns, though you have the feeling that he’s more upset at the situation than you, and he digs through one of his pouches to hand you a small pouch. “Here, this is kolto. It should help heal it.”

You stare at him for a long moment, and then slowly take the pack from his hand, “...thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jango settles onto the sand next to you and watches you tend to your own injury with ease, “You’ve done this before.”

It’s not a question, so far as you can tell, but it also seems like he’s making a peace offering, so you continue the conversation. “I have a pair of older twin brothers,” You reply, “And we fought a lot.”

“About what?”

“Oh, silly little things. You know what kids are like. My brothers would call me a name, and I’d call them a name, and it’d just keep escalating until it became physical.”

Jango laughs, “Sounds like me and my friends growing up.”

You shrug, “Kids are kids all over. And mom and dad refused to patch us up after the first time, unless a bone was broken, so we had to learn to take care of ourselves.”

“That sounds…mean of them.”

You laugh softly, “Not really. They’re big proponents of us suffering the consequences of our own actions. I think we turned out alright.”

“I honestly don’t know much about your people,” Jango admits, “Only what they teach us in school.”

“They probably tell you about the battles only then.” You finish treating your tail and start drawing little circles in the sand, “It’s dumb, this whole war.”

“Aren’t you a soldier?” Jango asks with an amused smile.

“I was conscripted, just like every other one of my people.”

Jango’s smile fades, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, “The population numbers for the Cecaelia people aren't very high. To bolster their forces, they turned to the Chordates. We have a much higher population number.”

“But you aren’t volunteers?” Jango asks.

“No. Mandatory conscription for all Chordates who are healthy enough.” You shrug, “We’re big, strong, and intimidating. It’s no wonder that the Cecaelia would want us. Not to mention, we’re not exactly welcome in Atlantis-”

Jango frowns, but he doesn’t argue against it.

You both know that you’re right.

“I’ll change that, when I’m King.”

You laugh, “No. You won’t.”

He looks offended, “You don’t think I will?”

“I don’t.”

“...I suppose you have cause to believe that.” He says with a sigh, “It’s not fair how your people are treated though.”

“You get used to it.”

Jango opens his mouth to say something else, but stops when his father’s second approaches. “Montross.”

“Prince Jango, there’s been a development. There is to be a POW exchange. The eel girl for one of our generals.” Montross turns his steely gaze onto you, and you meet it, unafraid. “Follow me, girl.”

“Alright,” Lazily, almost unconcerned, you lift from the ground and swim over to him. A small smirk crosses your face when he tightens his grip on his spear.

He might have larger muscles, but you tower over him, and you know that you’re stronger than he is. 

He’s aware of it too.

You don’t look back at Jango as you follow him out of the reef. There’s no point, odds are, you’re never going to see him again. You’re just eager to get into the darker lands of your people.

You also hope that they’re not trading anyone important for you.

It’s been six months since you were a prisoner of war and, you suppose, your imprisonment did come with something of a silver lining. You were immediately relieved from duty, and allowed to return to your family’s farm.

To return to your parents and your brothers. 

The fact that you had lost so much weight, and that your tail had been injured, meant that you were a good prop to parade in front of the masses, to show how monstrous the delicate and pretty Tritones and Haliae are. 

The Queen even had a speech written for you, wherein the details of your imprisonment were greatly embellished. You had to give a couple of interviews, one from the hospital where you were being treated for malnourishment, and then you were sent home with a very nice severance package, as well as an agreement that you wouldn’t tell anyone the truth.

Not that you ever would.

The severance package was very helpful to your family, and it’s not like you have many friends who aren’t related to you. And they already know the truth.

The Chordates are no strangers to lying to the people in charge, after all.

Honestly, you’re just glad to be home. To be able to trade in your battle trident for the much more familiar hunting spears, and to trade in the heavy metal armor for the lighter cloth that allow you to move, unseen, even through shallower water.

Your oldest brother flings his arm over your shoulder, early one morning as you finish putting food out for your family's herd of comb jellies. “Are you joining the twins when they go hunting?” He asks as he hoists an empty feed bag over his shoulder.

“That hadn’t been my intention,” You reply as you open a new feed bag and pour it on the sand, “You know what they’re like when someone invites themselves along on their hunting trips.”

“They haven’t asked, because they’re terrified that you’re going to vanish again.”

“Terrified? Van and Len?” You ask, skeptically, “I highly doubt that.”

He laughs, “You don’t believe me? Go and ask them yourself.”

“Fine, but only if you take over the rest of my chores.”

“Deal.” He pushes you towards the shed where the twins keep their hunting gear, and then turns, whistling, to tend to the animals. 

You swim over to the shed and peek in the open door. The twins, long and broad, are bent over their table, and they look delighted when they see you.

“You will join us, yes?” Van asks.

“We put the finishing touches on your spear.” Len adds as he presses your spear, which had shattered before you were conscripted, into your hands. It’s only the blade, with some of the handle left, making it more of a dagger than anything else.

“You really want me to come with you?”

“Of course we do.” Len beams at you as he tosses you your cloak, “As soon as you’re ready, we’re heading to the hunting grounds.”

You squint at him suspiciously, but tie your cloak around your neck and strap your spear to your hip, “Well, I’m ready-”

Quickly, very quickly, the twins usher you away from the shed and to the kelp forest that leads to the hunting grounds. Knowing them, they have their minds set on catching the largest of the deep sea fish, and bringing it home for mother to prepare.

It’s roughly three hours later, when the three of you stumble on something that you absolutely shouldn’t.

“Is that a Tritones War Party?” Van asks his twin as the three of you hide in the shadows of an outcropping. 

“It is, but…look.” You gesture to something that caught your eye, “Those are holy men and women. Look at their clothing.”

The twins glance at you, and then peer back at the War Party. Len scoffs, “She’s right. Look at the weapons. Why are the Tritones holy men attacking a Tritones war party?”

“Infighting?” Van asks, “Would only be good for us.”

“What d’ya think?” Len asks you.

You tilt your head, “The Tritones over there. That’s Montross, he’s King Jaster’s right hand. It looks like the Holy Men are answering to him.”

“Would make sense, I suppose. Who are they attacking, though?”

You move a little ways out of the shadow, to get a better look, and you exhale sharply. “The Tritones in the middle there, the one with the blue tail-”

“Yeah?”

“That’s the crowned prince of Atlantis.” You say flatly.

The twins are completely silent for a moment, their gazes locked on what they were seeing, “You know, I have heard a rumor that King Jaster was murdered-” Len muses.

“So killing the new king is, what, a coup? Supported by the holy men?” Van asks.

“Perhaps.” Len agrees, “Not our problem either way.”

You’re quiet for a moment, “I think we should save him.”

Identical eyes turn to look at you in disbelief. “Why?” Van asks, aghast.

You turn your thoughtful gaze away from Jango and to the twins, “I don’t know about you, but I’m rather tired of our cousins being sent off to die in a war.”

“Of course we are,” Len says, “But we can’t chang-” He stops mid-sentence, and then turns a calculating gaze towards the injured king, “We can work with that.”

It takes Van a moment before he understands where his twin’s thought process went, and then his gaze turns calculating as well. “We’ll have to save him first,” He notes.

“Well,” You murmur thoughtfully, “They are trespassing on our hunting grounds.” Twin pairs of eyes turn to you, and unholy glee crosses their faces. You’d feel guilty, if you weren’t sure that you had the exact same look on your face. 

“You collect the king,” Len orders you, “We’re going to have some fun.” The twins vanish into the dark, disappearing with such skill that even you have a hard time tracking them through the kelp.

You wait until you hear the first scream, and then you move, easing through the kelp cautiously, until you reach where Jango is laying. “You seem to be having a hard time,” You say lightly as you cut his bindings and then pull him into the kelp. 

“You…what?” Jango blinks at the back of your head as you easily propel him through the kelp. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. This is my family’s land.” You reply, “My brothers are dealing with the people who are hunting you.”

“Oh.”

You keep pulling him until you’re safely outside the kelp forest, and back on the farm, “Here, you’ll be safe here.”

Jango looks around, and then turns his gaze back to you, “Why are you helping me?” He asks quietly.

“Well,” You pause, “It’s not wholly to be a good person,” You admit.

“I didn’t think it was,” Jango replies wryly, “So why did you help me.”

“Well, you’re a king without a kingdom, based on what I just saw. And my people are so tired of being sent to war to die for people who see us as little more than canon fodder.”

“So…you help me and I help you?”

“Pretty much.”

“I suppose that’s not a bad deal,” he murmurs, “Who do I have to talk to?”

You smile at him, “My grandfather.”

“Can you take me to him?” Jango asks.

“That is the plan, yes.” You reply cheerfully as you turn to lead him deeper into the village. 

You already have over a dozen plans and backup plans forming in your mind. And you know that your brothers and your extended family will also have plans forming as they realize exactly what opportunity they have in front of them.

You’d almost pity Jango, if you didn’t know that this was going to work out in his best interest. And yours.

A sly little smile crosses your face.

It’s time to change the game that your people have been playing for generations. This time it’ll be more in your favor.

[mythandral]

B A S I C S

Name: Kenwyn Greenwood

Nicknames: Wyn

Age: 24 (ARR) - 29 (EW)

Nameday: Unknown

Race: Midlander Hyur

Gender: Unknown (they/he/she)

Orientation: Unknown

Profession: Healer, spy, assassin?

P H Y S I C A L   A S P E C T S

Hair: Ash blonde, long and straight, and lighter at the tips.

Eyes: Unknown

Skin: Fair

Tattoos/scars: Burn scars down their right side, always hidden.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Raised by their mother, a Gridanian conjurer. Their father left when they were young. He was a wailer, presumed to have died during the calamity.

Siblings: None

Grandparents: None

In-laws and Other: No in-laws. Childhood friends with Vaisha (@lilbittymonster), who took them under his wing upon seeing they were similarly looked down upon by their fellow Gridanians. Dating Osi (@hermits-hovel), being that the two of them are on very similar wavelengths.

Pets: No pets, but can summon a leafy familiar to assist with their spellcasting.

S K I L L S

Abilities: They have a powerful but finicky echo, which allows them to remain unnoticed as long as no-one is expecting their presence. This requires a number of sacrifices to stay effective - they do not speak, remove their mask or attempt to develop friendships in order that they remain unknowable, unpredictable and therefore unexpected.

This affords them great efficiency as a spy or assassin, although their echo is not infallible to certain abilities. Some others with the echo, or who are resonant, are capable of detecting their presence no matter the safeguards Wyn has put in place.

They are also an exceptional white mage due to one of their prior shards, Alorus, having irrecovably influenced their soul by corrupting themselves with light aether in the time of the Amdapori. This is a double-edged sword - although it grants them great magical abilities, the elementals recognise their soul and abhor them. For whatever reason, they also have an odd relationship with the aetherial sea, almost as if it is trying to reclaim something lost...

Hobbies: Botany and woodworking, although they are not especially skilled at the latter.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Despite their efforts, they have grown close to a number of people, and are highly loyal to them (if distant).

Most Negative Trait: They are an utter coward who always watches, never acts.

L I K E S

Colors: Neutral tones, greys, muted greens.

Smells: Forests at night, damp soil, candlewax, incense, thyme.

Textures: Fresh linen, long grass, varnished wood, soft fur.

Drinks: Herbal teas, elderflower cordial, honey & lemon.

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: No. The mask makes it difficult, for a start.

Drinks: No, and they'd be scared to try.

Drugs: Some of the herbs they utilise may have mild effects, but nothing strong.

Mount Issuance: None - hard to sneak around with a very visible mount following you. They walk everywhere - and are a decent runner, too.

Been Arrested: They are long gone before anyone has the chance.

Tagged by @lilbittymonster, thank you! I'm sure most people have done this now, but consider this an open tag - especially if you have a secondary character :)

[toffeechad]

▂▃▄▅▆▇█▓▒░ My new pinned!░▒▓█▇▆▅▄▃▂

【Fictive indicators!!】

ꕥ = Major kin!

ᰔᩚ = Semi-major kin!

✬ = Partial kin!

My system's fictionkins/fictives:

Puffball (BFDI) ꕥ (my main fictive!)

Fries (BFDI) ꕥ

Eraser (BFDI) ✬

Pen (BFDI) ꕥ

Golf Ball (BFDI)

Tennis Ball (BFDI) ꕥ

TV (BFDI) ✬

Leafy (BFDI) ꕥ

Firey (BFDI) ꕥ

Winner (BFDI) ꕥ

Flower (BFDI) ꕥ

Dora (BFDI) ᰔᩚ

Four (XFOHV/BFDI) ꕥ

X (XFOHV/BFDI) ꕥ

Hatsune Miku (VOCALOID) ꕥ

Stella (Angry Birds) ᰔᩚ

Bloody Bunny (Bloody Bunny) ✬

Mumu (Bloody Bunny) ✬

Dark Rabbit (Bloody Bunny) ✬

Rainbow Dash (MLP) ꕥ

Pyro (TF2) ✬

Dave (DFAC/FNF) ꕥ

Bambi (FNF) ᰔᩚ

Tristan (DFAC2/FNF) ✬

DATA_EXPUNGED (FNF)

Bandu (FNF) ᰔᩚ

Bendu (FNF) ✬

Ringi (FNF) ᰔᩚ

Bambom (FNF) ✬

Marjia (Muse Dash) ✬

Buro (Muse Dash) ᰔᩚ

Sorbet Shark Cookie (Cookie Run) ꕥ

Timekeeper Cookie (Cookie Run) ᰔᩚ

Lychee Dragon Cookie (Cookie Run) ✬

Fettuccine Cookie (Cookie Run) ✬

Peni Parker (Spiderverse) ꕥ

Crimson (Total Drama: The Ridonculous Race) ✬

Gardevoir (Pokémon) ✬

Lightbulb (Inanimate Insanity) ꕥ

Test Tube (Inanimate Insanity) ᰔᩚ

Paintbrush (Inanimate Insanity) ᰔᩚ

Bot (Inanimate Insanity) ꕥ (3rd major fictive!)

Shadow the Hedgehog (Sonic) ᰔᩚ

Boboiboy (Boboiboy) ᰔᩚ

Yaya (Boboiboy) ᰔᩚ

Gebura (Lobotomy Corporation) ✬

Strawberry Cream Cookie (Cookie Run) ✬

Kotoko Utsugi (Danganronpa) ꕥ

Babs (Chicken Run) ✬

Shaun (Shaun The Sheep) ꕥ

Speakerwoman (Skibidi Toilet) ᰔᩚ

Mr Strong (The Mr Men Show) ᰔᩚ (2nd major fictive!)

Tweak (Octonauts) ᰔᩚ (4th major fictive!)

Ami (Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi) ᰔᩚ

Bubble (BFDI) ᰔᩚ

Mr Nervous (The Mr Men Show) ᰔᩚ (5th major fictive!)

Little Miss Daredevil (The Mr Men Show) ꕥ

Little Miss Sunshine (The Mr Men Show) ᰔᩚ

This is my ref sheet!

Main alias: Toffee

Other alias: Lana (my actual name)

She/Her

I'm Aromantic, so uh I'm not interested to be in a romantic relationship

Autistic

16

Aries

My f/o's Mr Tickle from the Mr Men and Little Miss franchise! (Specifically, he's my childhood crush.)

ꕤ MY FREE DRAWING REQUESTS ARE ONLY AVAILABLE AT THE WEEKENDS IN THE MALAYSIAN TIMEZONE! ꕤ

Erm yeah I have spidersonas as well

The Object Spiders of Earth-2763 OLD REF SHEET >>

>> NEW REFS FOR THE OBJECT-SPIDERS OF EARTH-2763

Spider-Fowl

Clymene Moth

Honeycomb Spider

Avicularia

Green Lynx Spider

MORE INFO ABOUT MY EARTH-2763 SPIDERSONAS!!

(REDESIGNS OF THE OBJECT-SPIDERS WILL BE DRAWN SOON.)

I also made a few BFB AUs too!

BFB MDM AU

BFB MDM AU CHARACTER SUMMARY PT 1

BONUS CHARACTERS FOR THE BFB MDM AU

ASK BLOG FOR THE BFB MDM AU!!

EARTH-2763

BFB HUNGER GAMES AU

PROTAGONIST MARKER AU

BATTLE IN LOBCORP: THE TRUMPET OF TWO

CONCEPT OF THE "CONTESTANTS" IN THIS AU

FULL BILC: TTOT INFO LIST

CURRENT UPCOMING AU I'M MAKING:

FLOWERET: A MR MEN AND LITTLE MISS INFECTION AU

If you're wondering what does my persona look like, feel free to click here!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ List of my awesome besties!! ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

◍ Cooki_Alt

◍ Exsio Picore

◍ NovaAzurite

◍ Moonsprout-sys

◍ MochaBlogger

◍ Trashbins_Stuff

◍ artismeyou-12

◍ vaap0r_wave

◍ B0nb0n

◍ wowwzaaxei

◍ heartsfortwotpot

◍ Branimator

◍ slimebottlesilly

◍ the-random-creechur

DNI if you're hella problematic especially for: NSFW, Proship, Israel supporters, UNTITLED BLOGS, fetish, MAP, Sigmas, L*licons, Ableists, P*dos, etc!

Interests: Mr. Men & Little Miss, BFDI, II, Bloody Bunny, MLP, Cookie Run, FNF, Octonauts, Muse Dash, TF2, Sonic The Hedgehog, Mobile Legends, Super Mario, Pokemon, Roblox, Angry Birds, Spiderverse, Vocaloid, Total Drama, The Amazing Digital Circus, South Park, Chicken Run, Mobile Legends, Lobotomy Corporation, Skibidi Toilet and Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi.

[relmsramblins]

The Compass Quartet

Poetic Prose for the @writeblrcafe secret valentines. Hope everyone enjoys! Please let me know what y'all think.

The Compass Quartet

Four Prose-Poems

R. E. L. Mescher

East -          A sunrise; golden light playing over golden skin laying uncovered before the morning. Soft sounds of sleep slipping away usher in the morning adding a counterpoint to the twittering birdsong from outside the window. Such a sublime moment that somehow will not be remembered in sharp relief but in the deep impression of perfection that cannot be captured but must be experienced. Sunbeams illuminate a body, tracing and highlighting strength hidden under curves, and lumps, and scars that are so hated in their perceived imperfection but are truly wonderful in their history; for it is a strength that cannot be captured in a photo, nor gained by hours in a gym, but is defined by the bubbling giggle of a child just before they are lifted, soaring through the air, by the rustle of grocery sacks settling onto a table as they are set down by overburdened arms, and by the deep groan that accompanies the darkness of an necessarily early morning or a pleasantly late one. It is the strength that rises each dawn to see the day done, regardless of what it brings and is revealed by a feline stretch and a sleepy smile before the sun.

North -          A cold wind blows by, cutting crimson splashes into a face so often absent of any such colored expression. A scarf of thick warm cloth is pulled up to keep out the worst of the biting chill and hiding everything but the bright glitter of intelligent eyes that somehow watch everything, not with the frantic spasms of a prey animal nor the lazy passivity of a predator but with the calm detached interest of an outside observer cataloguing data for future analysis and use. Those eyes which, like a calm garden pool, reflect the quiet orderly activity of a mind that resembles nothing so much as a well run library and the librarian who knows exactly how to help each person find what they need; a mind willing to share the vast wealth of gathered information with those around them rather than horde it for personal use or preservation. Now, to ask those eyes a question that will bring a shimmer to life as it ripples forth with to create more questions.

South -          A warm summer sun diffuses through the leafy green branches, mottling the shadows that shimmer over the crisscrossed lines of the picnic cloth laid across the ground. The warm, humid air settles under the shady trees, only faintly stirred by the softest breeze, leaving a heavy blanket of languid drowsiness settling over everything including the rich, half-lidded eyes that seem to only passingly notice what is happening around them, filtering everything through the curtain of long lashes that turn sharp image into dreamlike blurriness. Those eyes focus for a moment on you and suddenly the warm laughter of their soul can be seen welling up from within. Through those windows of sepia, a world of joy and gentleness opens up away from the greyness of life, formed from a constant willingness to see the world as a better place than it seems and a desire to highlight the beauty that is and the potential for what could be. Those windows, for which jubilee and geniality are constant expressions, are framed by well worn creases in the corners which stand as testament to their constant use and would crinkle in embarrassment if they were ever pointed out. So the quiet stillness remains as summer sunlight seems to be welling up from within those eyes just as much as they reflect it.

West -          The blazing sunset of riotous reds and incandescent yellows casts sharp silhouettes against the coming darkness of night. An evening breeze pushes soft cotton against angles and curves, painting the barest hints and shadows at what may be underneath in deepest black, inviting exploration and adventure in that inky image standing against the fire-bright sky. A turn, a look, a motion only visible by the shift of shape within the darkness and two points of impossibly feverish light, seeming to shine with the colors behind them. Everything in that moment seems to be unimaginably complex yet inexplicably simple: a question, a demand, a blessing and a sin, a damn shattering before the force of the river that has run through humankind since the dawning of the first day and the setting of the first night. The desire to desire without definition, to seek home, to explore new vistas, to take and to share in equal abandonment of common sense or rationality. The passion, a promise, to look beyond the body, the mind, the soul and to find out Everything.

[greenpeople]

Navigating Cognitive Challenges: Effective Solutions

Effective Solutions for Cognitive Health

Maintaining cognitive health requires a holistic approach, incorporating good habits in diet, exercise, sleep, and stress management. Let’s take a look at some of the most effective ways to support brain health and combat common cognitive issues.

Balanced Diet and Hydration

A nutrient-dense diet is essential for brain health. The brain requires specific nutrients to function at its best, including antioxidants, healthy fats, vitamins, and minerals.

Brain-Boosting Foods

Leafy Greens: Vegetables like spinach, kale, and broccoli are rich in antioxidants and vitamins like folate, which help improve cognitivefunction.

Fatty Fish: Omega-3 fatty acids found in fish like salmon, mackerel, and sardines are essential for brainhealth. They support memory and cognitive function.

Nuts and Seeds: Walnuts, almonds, flaxseeds, and chia seeds are high in vitamin E, which is linked to a reduced risk of cognitive

Berries: Rich in antioxidants, berries like blueberries can help protect the brainfrom oxidative stress and inflammation, supporting long-term cognitive health.

Hydration: Proper hydration is often overlooked but is essential for optimal brainfunction. Dehydration can impair memory, concentration, and cognitive

Regular Physical Activity

Exercise is not only good for the body; it's also crucial for the brain. Physical activity increases blood flow to the brain, reduces stress, and supports the growth of new brain cells. Regular exercise can help improve memory, focus, and even mood.

Benefits of Exercise for the Brain

Increases Neuroplasticity: Regular physical activity enhances neuroplasticity, which is the brain’s ability to adapt and form new connections.

Reduces Stress: Exercise helps regulate cortisol levels, decreasing the harmful effects of chronic stresson the brain.

Improves Memory: Aerobic exercises like walking, cycling, and swimming increase blood flow to the brain, which enhances cognitivefunction.

Quality Sleep and Stress Management

Sleep and stress are two factors that play a significant role in cognitive health. Without enough sleep, cognitive performance suffers, and chronic stress can lead to long-term cognitive decline.

Sleep Tips for Cognitive Health

Establish a Routine: Going to bed and waking up at the same time each day helps regulate your circadian rhythm and improves sleep quality.

Create a Sleep-Friendly Environment: Keep your bedroom cool, dark, and quiet to promote restful sleep.

Limit Screen Time: Reduce exposure to blue light from screens at least an hour before bed to ensure deeper, more restorative sleep.

Stress Management Tips

Practice Mindfulness and Meditation: These techniques can help lower cortisol levels and reduce stress, which is beneficial for both mentaland physical health.

Engage in Relaxation Exercises: Deep breathing exercises, yoga, or progressive muscle relaxation can alleviate stressand improve focus.

Mental Exercises and Learning

Engaging the brain in new activities is a great way to keep it sharp. Mental exercises such as puzzles, memory games, reading, or even learning a new skill can help enhance cognitive abilities.

Examples of Brain-Boosting Activities

Sudoku, Crosswords, and BrainGames: These activities challenge memory, logic, and problem-solving skills.

Learning a New Language: Learning a new language or playing musical instruments stimulates different areas of the brain, improving cognitivefunction.

Reading and Writing: Regular reading and journaling improve vocabulary, comprehension, and mental

Supplemental Support

In addition to a balanced diet and lifestyle changes, certain supplements can help support cognitive health. GreenPeople offers plant-based supplements that are designed to enhance memory, focus, and reduce stress. Key ingredients like phosphatidylserine, ashwagandha, and L-Ergothioneine are known for their brain-boosting properties.

Phosphatidylserine: A naturally occurring phospholipid in the brain that helps improve memory, focus, and cognitive function.

Ashwagandha: An adaptogen that helps regulate cortisol levels, reducing stress and anxiety, which can contribute to better cognitive

L-Ergothioneine: A powerful antioxidant that protects the brain from oxidative stress, supporting overall cognitive health.

[hyylia]

COOKING LESSONS ──

post-botw, pre-totk | rated G characters: princess zelda, link, purah, other minor totk characters summary: for their anniversary, zelda faces the forbidden head-on - a loose backstory for the “gourmets go missing” totk sidequest word count: 3397 warnings: minor totk spoilers!

a/n: for zelink week 2023 - @zelinkcommunity​ big thanks to @aurathian​ for betareading this fic! one of her comments was “local princess learns not to cook monster parts” and i think that about sums it up.

read it below the cut or on ao3 → here

The end of the Calamity had removed the ghostly shackles from Zelda’s wrists. Her fate had been met, her mind and body tested, and after over a hundred years, the kingdom could finally rest. There were no prayers to be had or religious studies to attend to in the hopes that she could harness her power. She already had. The Princess was free to do anything she pleased–explore Hyrule without the harrowing duty looming over her shoulders, assist Purah and Robbie with their advanced research, lounge about with Link. She could do anything–except for one tiny, minor thing. 

Cooking was strictly forbidden.

Link had never outwardly said anything and, honestly, she should have expected as much. Even before Calamity Ganon had shaken Hyrule, Link was notorious for eating even the most dubious of substances. Hand him an entire Goron rock roast, and he would swallow it whole without a word. Some mysterious meat–probably bokoblin or moblin in origin–and he would lick the plate clean. So, it should have been no surprise to her that he would swallow her experimental desserts down without a single complaint.

Instead, Purah had been the first to comment on her poor cooking abilities. The Princess had invited her to their house–a business meeting of sorts, to discuss what to do with the various guardian parts strewn across Hyrule–and out of the kindness of her golden heart, she’d decided to cook dinner for them. Purah had been deep in conversation with Link while Zelda had her way with the meal: keese wings, simmered in leafy greens and delectable Hylian mushrooms. It was admittedly not her best work, and it had turned a mysterious shade of green as soon as she’d added the twitching monster parts to the pot. She’d tried her best to make it look appetizing for Purah when she’d plated it, sprinkling freshly chopped Hylian herb on top. It hadn’t exactly worked.

“Princess,” Purah had said instead, staring blankly at the dubious food sitting before her on the table. “What. Is. That.”

“...Dinner?” She’d feigned a casual smile, as if it might lessen the situation and alleviate the concern plastered on the other girl’s face. Inside, she knew she had messed up.

“No,” Purah had pressed, poking a charred, brittle wing with her fork. “What is that?”

“Keese.”

“Keese?” She hadn’t missed the way Purah’s face morphed from concern to utter disgust, letting go of her fork with a loud clink as it’d clattered against the plate below.

“A keese wing, yes. Link has so many from his adventures–I thought I would cook a few for us.”

At that, Purah’s eyes had shifted pointedly to Link, who’d merely smiled in return. He’d sheepishly rubbed the back of his head with a hand, intentionally moving his gaze away from Purah and to the floor. Zelda’s mouth had dropped open. 

“Princess… How often does Link let you cook?”

Zelda had never really thought about that before. He’d always jumped at the opportunity to cook for her–whether it was breakfast or lunch or dinner–and she’d only ever assumed it was because he enjoyed it. When he was in the kitchen, humming a tune over the cooking pot, he’d only ever looked happy. It had never appeared to be a chore–or a means to keep her out of the kitchen. His insistence on cooking meals was why she’d had to resort to surprising him with dessert, a course he’d only ever looked grateful for.

“You hate it,” she’d said in defeat, her shoulders sagging. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Princess, but Link should never let you cook again. This meal is downright criminal.”

Her own eyes had turned to Link, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. He’d only shaken Purah’s words off with a smile, hands signing, It’s not that bad.

That was code for: it was very, very bad. Zelda had sighed miserably, sinking down into her chair, Purah’s laughter echoing through the house. 

She hadn’t cooked again. No burnt (yet, mysteriously soggy) apples, coated in browned butter. No half-baked fruitcake, falling apart and topped with the fruit she’d somehow mutilated. No cooking–whatsoever. 

That is, until recently. With the one-year anniversary of their relationship approaching, Zelda wanted to do something special for Link. She’d thought about it for some time, mulling over the options in her head before she’d finally decided on what she would do. 

She would cook. 

For nearly a year, Link had been cooking for her, and it was only fair that she would, at some point, try to return the favor. Not to mention, she’d atone for her past crimes and give him a gift he’d undoubtedly enjoy: food. Good food. There was nothing more fitting for her swordsman.

Within a few days of her decision, she’d sent a formal request to Gotter, the renowned chef from Riverside Stable, requesting his assistance for secret, individual cooking lessons. Link had engaged in conversation with the chef a number of times on their travels, so she’d trusted his expertise on the art of cooking more than anyone else. She’d been filled with glee at his near-immediate response a few days later: a letter with a time, date, and location at the outskirts of Hateno Village.

He’d agreed. She had been thankful for that, her eyes skimming over the rest of the letter he’d written; something about being optimistic and grateful for the opportunity to teach the Princess of Hyrule. He’d appeared that way until midway through her very first lesson, when he’d realized just how bad she was.

“No, no, no!” He’d been yelling almost immediately, his face red and jaw slack with disbelief–something about her poor knife skills, the way she’d mangled (rather than neatly trimmed) the slab of venison he’d kindly handed her, nearly cutting herself a dozen times in the process. “Princess, must we go over the basics?!”

She’d only smiled weakly and nodded her head, and she’d watched all of the hope and excitement leave his eyes. That had been the gist of their early lessons: how to use a knife correctly, how to measure ingredients and perfectly season a cooking pot. All things that were easy enough to do, because they didn’t actually require cooking. It was the cooking where she’d struggled, where his patience had seemingly been tested the most.

“Princess,” Gotter had interjected during one lesson, rousing her from her thoughts. “You’re supposed to be searing the fish, not burning it.”

“Princess,” he’d weakly asked during another, staring down at his plate in disbelief, “why is the crab still moving?”

“Princess.” He’d utterly given up at one point, lounging in his tent and reading the book in his hands. “I can smell the charcoal you’re cooking from here.”

During one of their last lessons, he’d jumped to put out the giant grease fire she’d accidentally created, chastising her all the while on the importance of not using water to do so. After that, he’d kindly requested reinforcements from the other notable chefs around Hyrule. He’d told her that, maybe together, they would be able to teach her something.

Now, she stood hovering over the cooking pot, three of Hyrule’s finest chefs surrounding her. All of them wore the same expression on their face: disapproval, lips worn thin and eyes hollow with dissatisfaction at what she’d somehow conjured up in her pot. 

“Gotter,” one of them, Agus, said to the man. “You only gave her apples and butter, correct?”

The head chef nodded solemnly.

“So… where did she find the monster parts?” Moza quipped, her gaze moving between the other two chefs and the quivering pile of bokoblin guts in the pot.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Zelda wasn’t exactly sure either. All eyes turned to her, awaiting an explanation that she could simply not provide. She merely shrugged, the chefs all collectively shaking their heads.

“We need a moment alone, Your Highness,” Gotter muttered beneath his breath, looking as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. They left her, walking several paces away and whispering to each other all the while. Zelda knew it was over from the way they all glanced at her from the corner of their eyes, their whispers intensifying with every look. 

She would never learn. Instead, Link would be doomed to cook for her for all of his life, and she’d be forced to find another gift to surprise him with. Only, that wouldn’t do, because their anniversary was today. It was too late to commission anything for him, or to even make something for him herself. She’d been too caught up in her lessons to consider a back-up plan, and at this point, she had no choice but to make dinner and pray to Hylia that it was edible. Certainly it was the thought that would count…?

“Princess,” Gotter said, returning a few moments later. “We’ve been at this for weeks, and there’s been little progress. Perhaps we should reconvene and continue lessons in a few months.”

Zelda had expected as much. She bit her lip, nodding soberly. “Of course. Thank you all for your help.”

She watched them pack up and leave in a hurry, as if they were worried that she might try to argue. She wouldn’t. If Zelda had learned anything, it was that cooking wasn’t her forte–no matter the number of lessons Gotter had freely given her. She sighed, disappointed, and wiped her hands clean on her pants before waving them goodbye.

It was only a few minutes later that she approached the entrance to Hateno Village, her head down and shoulders slouched. How was it that she could do anything, yet she couldn’t cook even the simplest of meals? She could piece together intricate guardian parts, fuse them together with one of Robbie’s tools, and yet melting butter was where she drew the line? She sighed miserably. Her knight approached her side only moments later, face lined with worry.

Where have you been? His hands were a flurry of movement. I thought you said you were helping Cece, but I didn’t see you with her.

“I was helping Cece,” she lied.

From the woods? She nodded. He gave her a skeptical look. What would Cece need in the woods?

“Mushrooms. She told me she plans to reference them in her next design.”

Link’s eyebrows raised curiously, glancing at her obviously mushroom-less arms, yet he said nothing more about it. It was believable enough–that Cece would do something as outrageous as use mushrooms in one of her gaudy fashion designs. Instead, he quietly took her hand, leading her in the direction of their house.

I missed you today, he signed with one hand. I’ve been worried. 

She squeezed his hand. “I’m all right.”

I have a surprise for you at home.

Her face lit up. In all of her scheming and secret lessons, she’d forgotten that he might have gotten her something special as well. She wondered, as she crossed the bridge to their home, what kind of surprise it might be. A painting, maybe, or a new quill and ink set for her journal. 

Instead, as Link pushed the door open, she was met with a new writing desk, larger and sturdier than the one she kept upstairs. She turned to Link in surprise, utterly delighted. His lips spread into a soft smile.

I built it myself, he signed. For you.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, walking inside to touch the dark-stained wood. “How did you build it?”

I’ve picked up a few things over the years. She smiled at that. Now you can work downstairs if you’d like. And it’s larger, so it can hold more Zonai materials on top.

Zelda took it in. He’d already neatly arranged a stack of books on top–a stack she’d been keeping on the floor after running out of space. A small flower vase sat on top, too, with a Silent Princess he must have picked for her at some point sticking out of it. She felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you, Link.”

Of course. I hope you like it.

It was her turn to reveal her gift to him now, a thought that made her stomach suddenly churn with anxiety. She sobered, hesitating before spitting out, “ I… I have something for you as well.”

He tilted his head curiously. You didn’t have to do anything for me.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

You didn’t have to.

She shook her head. “Admittedly,” she said, “you may not like it. Though I do hope that you will. It’ll take some time, though, and you’ll have to stay here. Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

His curiosity was piqued. She could tell because he straightened up, suddenly alert. OK.

“I’ll tell you when.”

With that, he closed his eyes obediently, and Zelda was left to gather whatever she could fit inside the basket they used for transporting ingredients. Thankfully, she’d kept the kitchen stocked up all week, though she wasn’t sure how much help it would be. She’d hoped that, by this point, Gotter would have helped her pick a delicious recipe, practiced to perfection from her numerous lessons. Instead, as she looked over the various utensils and ingredients, she felt utterly clueless.

One step at a time, she quietly reminded herself. That had been Agus’s wise advice to her. Don’t rush cooking. Find appreciation for the art, he’d said.

Link had brought in a delicious-looking hunk of beef at some point during the day. She figured that she could probably use that for something–tossing it into the basket–but what else? Her gaze glanced over the array of options before settling on the small bag of Hylian rice she’d bought from Pruce two days ago. Rice was a simple and easy meal, right? She’d watched Gotter cook rice to fluffy perfection several times, though it had only ever turned hard and crispy whenever she’d tried. She’d give it one last attempt.

Keep it simple, she reminded herself. Rice and meat couldn’t go wrong together. It may not have been gourmet, but if she focused hard enough and took her time, maybe it would be edible enough for Link to be amazed at what little improvement she’d made for him. Zelda grabbed a chunk of rock salt for seasoning, cooking oil for the beef, a jar of broth for the rice, and two bowls. With that, she dashed out of the house with the basket and to their cooking pot outside.

She could do this. She knew how to light the fire beneath the pot, how to heat up just a little bit of the oil for the perfect sear, and she did it with little thought. Those had been the easy lessons. With the pot thoroughly heated, Zelda took a deep breath and laid the meat inside. It sizzled furiously–a sign that maybe she’d waited too long for the pot to heat–and her heart leapt in her throat. No, she told herself. For Link, she would try her best. After only a few minutes, she flipped the meat. Her mouth dropped open.

A perfect sear. She almost couldn’t believe her eyes. How had she done that after weeks of failure? She fought down the urge to stand up and cheer, instead staring intently at the meat in the pot. She flipped it again. 

A perfect sear on that side, too. She begged her beating heart to calm as she turned the meat to sear the sides. If the rice failed miserably, maybe she would at least have perfectly cooked beef to present to him. Men liked eating meat, didn’t they? Thank Hylia for that.

She removed the beef from the pot to rest and scraped what little burnt bits remained in the pot with her utensil, fighting the urge to smile wide. Next would be the rice–a feat she was sure would ruin any of the excitement she was feeling at the moment. She added the broth to the pot, boiling in only a few minutes, then the rice. For good measure, she stirred nonstop, fearing that the moment she did, it’d become a burnt mess, clinging to the bottom of the pot.

Only, she saw it soak up the moisture gradually, thickening beneath her utensil. Was she dreaming? Had she entered the afterlife unknowingly–maybe the result of that grease fire? Zelda stared in awe, eyes wide with disbelief. She hurried to prepare their bowls, scooping some of the rice into both of them before slicing the beef. She laid it on top, added just a sprinkle of the rock salt, and...

It looked… appetizing. That had never happened before. She wasn’t sure how she had managed to make something like that, wondering if maybe Hylia had decided to give her good fortune today. She only prayed that it tasted as good as it looked.

After putting the fire out and tossing her dirty utensils into the basket, she rushed back inside, holding both of the bowls in her hands. She saw Link visibly perk up when she entered, like a dog drooling at the scent of the food wafting after her. Link–standing in the same spot, his eyes still pressed firmly shut, because she’d forgotten to tell him to open them before she’d left. She sat the bowls down at their table, cheeks flushed, before she murmured, “Open your eyes.”

He opened them, glancing at her for only a second before he stared down at the bowls she beckoned him towards.

Did you make this? he asked incredulously. She tried not to be offended. It looks delicious.

“Try it,” she urged. He took a seat in his chair and grabbed his spoon, gaze never breaking from the meat and rice bowl before him. He took a bite, and for a moment, he was frozen.

Zelda, he signed, completely deadpanned. He paused and took another bite. I think this is the best thing I’ve eaten in a while.

“Really?” She asked excitedly, leaning forward. He nodded and her face visibly brightened. “I thought about it for a while… What I wanted to get you, I mean. There are only a few things I’ve ever seen you really get excited about, and the biggest thing has been food.”

He nodded again, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. His love for food was why he spent so much time gathering fresh ingredients on their travels; why they had met Gotter in the first place. 

“I’ve been taking lessons for the past month. I know you don’t mind to cook, and you’ve never complained, but I see how tired you are sometimes. I want to help. When I’ve wandered off to help Cece or Prima or Dantz, I’ve actually been hiding in the woods with Gotter. He offered to teach me, though… Well, admittedly, I haven’t shown much progress until now.” Her cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t sure that this would work. I’m glad you like it, Link.”

He sat his spoon down, half of the bowl already devoured, and met her gaze. 

Zelda, he signed. He reached for one of her hands, tracing her name on her skin with one of his fingers, Zelda. He smiled warmly, squeezing her hand before letting go. Thank you. Not only have you given me something good to eat, but a new recipe too. We’ll have to write it down on a card so we can remember.

A recipe card. Zelda beamed like the sun, clutching her hands together with excitement. Link had written dozens of recipes down over the years, kept safe in their recipe box. Now she would have her own sitting in there. 

Link watched her for a moment, eyes soft, before he signed, Eat before it gets cold. It’s too good to waste.

Zelda nodded and took a seat across from him. Silently they ate their dinner, looking at each other from across the table with smiles hidden behind their bowls. Maybe, Zelda thought, cooking wasn’t some forbidden practice. Maybe it was just a skill that didn’t come naturally to her–one that required a lot of practice. Well… In that case, she decided that she would keep working at it, if only it meant sharing more moments like these with Link.

[healthboosthubhere]

🥕 Fuel Your Body with Nutrient-Dense Foods! 🍅🍠

Eating nutrient-dense foods is essential for long-term health! 🥦 From leafy greens to lean proteins, these foods provide vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants to boost energy, metabolism, and overall wellness! 👉 Fuel up here: https://betyon.gumroad.com/l/holistic-health-guide

[scarlettohairdye]

Do you/romance novelist Lan Zhan have any recipe recommendations for hotel cooking?

Oh my god, do I ever, I'm so glad you asked!

Hello from Hawaii and my Tiny Travel Kitchen breakfast! 💖

Okay, so the things you need to work out first are where you're traveling to and how long you'll be there, because that will inform your menu planning. I'm currently in Hawaii (!!!) and there's an abundance of good food near me, so I'm really just focusing on breakfast and snacks. When we've gone to Arizona it's for medical reasons so we have to stay in a hotel that is not particularly well located/my wife usually can't go out to eat, so I plan for all three meals.

I'm going to assume the presence of a travel chef's knife, a cutting board, an assortment of seasonings, an electric skillet, an electric kettle, and a mini fridge, so here's a shopping list and some suggestions with that in mind:

Bread

Butter

The tiniest bottle of olive oil you can find

Half dozen eggs

Avocados

Sliced cheese

Easily sliceable fruit

A package of precut sweet potatoes or butternut squash

Microwavable rice packets (precooked)

A bag of arugula or other leafy green

A can of chickpeas

Lemons

A head of garlic

A couple of shallots

Can of black beans

As far as recipes go:

Lean into your Fancy Toast Era! Butter both sides of a piece of bread and fry it up in the skillet. Top with fried egg, avocado, cheese, anything you want! Serve with sliced fruit.

Grilled cheese sandwiches. Serve with a salad made of the leafy greens, sliced apples, and diced avocado, dressed with lemon and olive oil.

Chickpea squash bowl: dice garlic & shallot, soften in some olive oil in the skillet. Add the precut squash and the chickpeas; saute until squash is al dente. Add precooked rice and more olive oil. Cook until heated through,l. Season with salt, pepper, smoked paprika, lemon juice, and incredibly carefully minced lemon zest (if you're an overachiever). Serve over leafy greens.

Burrito bowl: garlic and shallots in the skillet. Add black beans and rice. Season with salt, pepper, cumin and chili powder. Serve with avocado and cheese on top.

That's what I have for the moment, but all of these options are incredibly customizable. Just look for as many precut/shelf stable options as you can and godspeed!

[meditating-dog-lover]

Anti-inflammatory lifestyle update

As I said earlier on my blog, I want to follow an anti-inflammatory lifestyle. For someone like me, it's absolutely possible, and I just need some fine-tuning here and there. The true area that's going to need a lot of attention, care, and modification is my anxiety. Excess anxiety and stress cause inflammation which can manifest as eczema. My anxiety is not my fault of course. The fact that I might be on the spectrum and just found that out at the age of 29 goes to show I've never knew the root cause of my random anxiety and anger outbursts and thought there was something wrong with me.

The steps to following and living an anti-inflammatory lifestyle are as follows:

Eat an anti-inflammatory diet. Eating a diet rich in berries, leafy greens, broccoli, mushrooms, sweet potatoes, fish, unprocessed dairy, sprouted or whole grains, turmeric/black pepper, nuts, chia seeds, olive oil, avocados, dark chocolate, green tea, and foods rich in fiber will do wonders. I named a few of the anti-inflammatory foods I enjoy, but there are more. Also limiting intake of sugar, processed white bread/grains, foods cooked/fried in refined vegetable oils, too much salt, omega-6 rich foods, trans fats, and processed meats like hot dogs and bacon (I don't like meat so I'm not worried about this for myself). I do want to meet with a dietitian eventually to ask about how to add on to my anti-inflammatory diet and how to indulge/eat out wisely. Because my goal is to add and not subtract, but I obviously want to limit processed foods. I notice my skin is less inflamed when I eat the above anti-inflammatory foods. My skin is not clear now, but I noticed it clear up a bit when I started drinking green tea this week.

Supplement with anti-inflammatory nutrients that are hard to get from diet alone. These include vitamin D, omega 3 fatty acids (EPA and DHA from fish), and even zinc in some cases.

Drink enough water. I already drink around 2 L of water daily. Also getting it in the form of green tea is fine (I drink plain green tea no sugar, milk, honey).

Avoid drinking alcohol. I know wine can be anti-inflammatory, but other alcohols can be terrible and I don't drink to begin with. I'm going to avoid alcohol altogether.

Avoid smoking.

Get enough sleep each night. From my experience, I need 7-8 hours.

Exercise. I walk a lot, around 8-10k steps a day. I also started exercising this week and did a no jumping HIIT workout for around 15 minutes, combined with a 5 minute warmup and 5 minute cooldown. It was a Youtube video and I felt like the difficulty was a 5-6 out of 10. I want to do some occasional workouts like this that allow me to sweat and challenge/build my muscles. But without overdoing it or experience pain. I'll go for a duration I can tolerate (15-20 minutes) and will modify, slow down on, or skip a workout I find to challenging (anything with side planks or leg circles for example). And the goal is to do these 2-3 times a week. Once again diet is way more important than exercise. I should mainly focus on my diet, and also exercise, but it's effects are not as important as that of diet. So the goal here is to exercise, but not to make it a top priority or a big challenge. I'm here to regulate my insulin/metabolic wellness, reduce inflammation, and build muscle, not to become a super athlete or power lifter.

Maintain a healthy body weight. Being in a healthy body fat/weight range maintains good health and reduced inflammation. From my experience, intermittent fasting helps so much with this. I've been intermittent fasting since last December. For 6 months straight, I want to say that out of all those days, I think I only broke my fast 4 days. A few times to take flaxseed oil in the middle of a skin flareup at night, the first few days I started IF because I got hungry in the middle of the night, on work days where I had busy mornings and couldn't eat until ~2, and on mornings where I had blood work done. Besides that I've been sticking to it for 6 months and do not feel deprived nor hungry nor dizzy at all. Even with a busy work schedule.

Stress relief. I think we all know that stress is super inflammatory. Unfortunately I do struggle with stress and anxiety and have for a long time. It's a combination of not being taught the best coping skills growing up, childhood trauma, and possible being on the autism spectrum (I'm going to do a screening for this soon). If I am autistic, then I'm going to get as much access to resources as possible so I can get the help I need. I know anxiety and stress and rigidity, social anxiety and hypochondria are going to be a normal part of my life, but I just need any help I can get.

Gut health. I've been working with a doctor to improve my gut inflammation so my eczema improves. From my experience I did notice some improvement. But at the end of the day, an accumulation of inflammation triggers it and not just 1 of these things. Gut health is one piece of the puzzle, but it is important. I'm still on the lookout for a go to routine/supplement that can help maintain good gut health. Edit: aloe juice!

Exposure to toxins. We are all exposed to "toxins" on a daily basis, including chemicals and metals. I'll speak to my doctor about this, especially in the context of liver health.

Be around those you love and avoid those who hurt and stress you out (much easier said than done and I'll add more to this).

Take steroid shots and prednisone when needed.

For now, I'll take my vitamin D, fish oil, and multivitamin. As well as the morning aloe juice.

I modified my diet this week to include more anti-inflammatory foods and am even going to try some healthy vegetarian dishes my mom and sister make. I know some people with eczema rave about elimination diets and how cutting out gluten, dairy, eggs, nightshades, caffeine, citrus fruits, and foods high in histamine cleared their skin. I know that some people out there have benefited from elimination diets, but I personally hate these diets. I would much rather focus on adding anti-inflammatory foods and limiting my intake of inflammatory foods like sugars, processed/refined oils, trans fats, and processed white bread rather than eliminating foods that random people on the internet said were "inflammatory". These foods can be a rich source of vitamins and minerals, so I'm really hesitant to exclude them from my diet. The goal is to add a lot of anti-inflammatory food sources to my diet rather than taking foods out.

There are many diets out there, but I believe an anti-inflammatory diet would be best for me to follow. Again I'm going to meet with a dietitian to get some tips and tricks on how to work with it. I've been hearing about different diets for years, but only heard about an anti-inflammatory diet last year when I went to my women's health doctor for a pelvic exam (inflammation causes bad period cramps which I used to struggle with but they've gotten better).

I already drink a lot of water daily and sleep well. I also do not smoke nor drink at all, and I'm maintaining a healthy body weight through IF and walking.

I see exercise as a way to improve my metabolic health and build muscle. It is anti-inflammatory. But it's not very high on the priority list like diet and body-weight is. But it's great for building muscle mass and sweating, both which improve overall metabolism and insulin sensitivity. I'm going to do doable workouts that are 5-6 out of 10 challenging. No jumping, no heavy weights. 2-3 times a week for 15-20 minutes including a 5 minute warmup and 5 minute cooldown.

I am susceptible to anger and anxiety, and I'm going to do an autism screening soon and will get the help I need to navigate in life. Knowing that autism may be a possibility lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders because it explains why there is something "unconventional" in the way I behave that isn't bad nor wrong nor problematic, nor is it a sign of laziness, failure, or incompetence. I know getting the help I need will help a lot with my anxiety, and therefore, inflammation/skin flareups.

I'll add more to point 12. Thankfully the people I interact with on a daily basis do not stress me out that much. And I'm happy I have a supportive community here and that I reunited with my old friends from college. I feel less lonely and empty.

My skin is getting better, and I know that adopting anti-inflammatory habits help. I know that adding anti-inflammatory foods to my diet this week (especially the green tea) and knowing that I might be autistic (lifted a huge weight off my shoulders) made me feel much better this week and my skin was less inflamed. Exercising is a great habit too. I'm going to heal and follow this anti-inflammatory lifestyle. The most challenging part will be the anxiety management and healing, which will take a lot of time. I have a lot to heal from, especially after doing a testing/getting a diagnosis. I'll be okay. My mom and sister are here to help. I also have hypochondria, which they will help with too.

[birds-galore]

Do you have any advice for a complete novice wanting to take on a rescue cockatiel (adult but unknown age)? The zoo I work at has a cockatiel I've bonded with. He was originally surrendered by his owner and one of the keepers decided they wanted him so they took him home but then they got a larger parrot and didn't want him anymore so they gave him back to the zoo. He's VERY affectionate and clingy and loves head scritches but everyone is so busy working he doesn't get the attention he's so clearly craving. I'm debating asking them if I could take him home myself but I've never cared for any form of bird in a domestic setting so I have no idea what I'm getting myself into in terms of cost and care requirements. I do also have a cat but I have a big enough home to keep them separate and still give both enough space. I wouldn't normally consider taking an animal from a zoo but the enclosure he's in isn't heated and a lot of the birds in there have died from the cold recently (management is shit here, privately owned American zoo, go figure 🙄) so I'm a bit worried about him.

I'm sorry to hear that the zoo is mistreating and neglecting their birds! While most animals can acclimate to a range of temperatures, the general rule for cockatiels is to stay within the 65-75 degree range (roughly 18-23 degrees Celsius). Dropping too far below that can lead to weakness, decreased appetite, illness, and death. If you think the cockatiel is in immediate danger from cold exposure, then please relocate them to a warmer habitat ASAP. Even if you decide you cannot care for the bird long-term, it is much better for them to be safe than dead as you search for a suitable home, whether that home is with you or someone else.

Here are the basics for cockatiel care:

Make sure you have a flight cage. My local avian rescue lists the absolute minimum requirements as: 24″L x 20"W x 24″H with ½” bar spacing. Pixel's cage is: 31.1"L x 20.4"W x 52.0"H.

Cockatiels need a minimum of 3 hours a day outside their cage, or with their cage door open. They need more than 3 hours in the company of people, which can mean staying in the same room with them whenever you are home, or relocating their cage so they can be near you.

Make sure you eliminate common household hazards: never run a ceiling fan with your bird out of the cage, cover up windows with blinds or add stickers, make sure there are no open water sources, bowls, toilets, etc, cover up exposed wires, monitor your bird when it is outside the cage. NEVER use teflon cookware, candles, air fresheners, perfumes, and aerosol sprays.

Make sure you have a variety of perches. The general rule is to add 2 or 3 action perches (boings, hammocks, and swings) as well as multiple different textured perches (a flat perch, rope, wood, etc.). Offering only plain dowel rods can cause discomfort and arthritis. Always monitor your bird's interactions with action perches before leaving them alone. DO NOT put fleece blankets or cozy huts in the cage. These are a safety issue.

Add a variety of toys including confetti shredders, woodblocks, cardboard, etc. Make sure all are safe for birds and monitor your bird's interactions with toys before leaving them alone.

Fresh water daily. Sometimes multiple times per day if your bird soils it with food, poop, etc.

Spot clean the cage daily, switch out the cage material (newspaper, liners) weekly.

If you are transitioning your bird's diet, you need to do it slowly. Introduce your bird to new food by incrementally mixing it in with the old food. The healthiest diet is to transition your cockatiel from seeds to pellets. Feel free to message me if you need advice on recommended diets/brands.

Cockatiels enjoy fresh leafy greens. Try to feed spinach, broccoli, kale in addition to the normal diet of seeds/pellets.

Cockatiels need about 10 hours of darkness every night to regulate their hormonal cycles. Consider buying a cage cover. Set a schedule for sleep.

You already mentioned it, but never introduce the bird to your cat or any other predatory animal.

More info on budgeting and disclaimers under the cut!

As for costs, they vary. I can itemize what I pay for Pixel's care (not including boarding expenses or the cost of her travel cage):

$80-100: flight cage & $20 for a cage cover (one time expense)

$30 for perches (one time expense)

$30: for food (roughly every 2-3 months, so ~$120 a year)

$30 for nail trims at the vet every 3 months (again ~$120 a year)

$60 for her annual vet exam

$10 a month for additional toys and perches (it varies, but probably totals around $100 a year).

This breaks down to a one-time expense of roughly $130 for the cage setup, and an annual cost of about $400 per year. You also need extra funds saved in the case of illness or emergency.

Now that basic care is out of the way, I have some additional disclaimers about life with a cockatiel:

Cockatiels can live up to 30 years.

Will you be able to spend several hours per day with the cockatiel?

If the cockatiel's needs are still unmet even with your full attention, would you be willing to adopt another cockatiel to keep it company?

Are you sensitive to loud noises? Keep in mind that cockatiels will scream for attention. They also make "contact calls" to locate members of their flock when they are out of sight (in this case, you). If you spend most of your time in the house outside of your cockatiel's sightlines, then you will have a very noisy, frustrated bird!

Is there a nearby avian vet? Can you afford expensive vet bills?

What will you do during the holidays or if you are traveling?

I hope this was helpful. You have a good heart, and I hope the cockatiel finds somewhere warm where they can receive all of the scratches their heart desires! Please don't hesitate to message me if you want more detailed educational materials or explanations.