#vegetation (composer)

[prosodi]

[rebellum]

Picky eater supremacy (because my family is SO good at accommodating food allergies and intolerances bc we've had to deal with Me Being Me.)

[dailyenglishvoca]

Today's song is Name the Wind by Vegetation featuring the Synthesizer V voicebank Mai

[snivy1245]

I'm not a fruit, but I'm so pure hyperfixation at all times that my parents will never ask this question.

[advika123]

Wholesale lubricant oil suppliers in Pune - Perennial Turbo

[presepohne]

Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader

cw: nsfw, minors dni, 18+ | John Price himself is the trigger warning. choking, p in the v, buff arms, made her recite her wedding vows because the reader was being a brat, married man and filthy married man John Price. 1.15k words

note: you need to know how much i need an older man and that older man needs to be JOHNATHAN PRICE. RAWR. also I'm bad at marriage vows :(

You have been on it for a while. Maybe more than a while.

John is sitting adjacent to you, evening you as you huff and puff around, slamming drawers, aggressively chopping the vegetables for dinner, and snapping at him any moment he even breathed near your direction.

And it has been bothering him a lot. His sweet wife, always calm and composed, easy going most of the time— here, acting as a brat around the house. Almost breaking his favourite mug as you slam it on the counter to pour him some tea.

He cocks and eyebrow at you, as if saying You gonna drop that attitude?

He also knows the reason why you were acting such, as silly as it may be. You had asked him to come back home on time. Asked politely that morning, as every morning you did— with a kiss on his lips and a murmur against them; Be back soon today? Please.

And he did say Sure love, I will.

But he didn't. His excuse was a valid one, got stuck in traffic.

It didn't get a reaction out of you simultaneously, but there were after effects and he was very certain at this point you were acting like a brat on purpose. Brushing off his touches, muttering curses on him, slapping his hands away.

The audacity.

You were pushing him again.

Snapping back. Eye-rolling. Throwing out half-serious insults with that scowl that said, What are you gonna do about it, Captain?

He’d already warned you once.

But now?

Now you've crossed the line.

“I hate you, John. You’re a selfish, arrogant bastard who only knows how to give orders. If I wanted to be married to a dictator, I would’ve signed up for the bloody military myself.”

He stood there for a moment, eyeing you. The silence lingered long enough.

You felt the shift before you saw it.

He was across the room in three strides. You barely had time to gasp before his body was on yours, heavy and hot, pinning you to the counter.

“Oh, is that right?” he said, voice calm—too calm—as his knee forced your legs apart, his forearm sliding up to press firmly across your throat. Not cutting off your breath entirely. Just enough to remind you who the fuck you belonged to.

“You hate me so much you wear my ring to bed?” he murmured, glancing at your hand crushed against the sheets.

You arched up, defiant.

“I don’t wear it for you.”

“Oh, love,” he rasped, tightening the pressure slightly. “You wear it so you don’t forget.”

You struggled—not because you wanted him off—but because you wanted to feel how much stronger he was. How easy it was for him to break you down without even trying.

He dipped lower, lips brushing your ear. “You wanna mouth off, brat? Fine. You’re gonna earn every bloody second of this.”

You squirmed under him, half-laughing through the tight grip around your neck.

“Can’t even talk, John,” you whispered, voice strangled and teasing. “How the fuck am I supposed to mouth off now?”

That earned you a low, dangerous chuckle. “Then I’ll make it easy for you.”

His free hand curled into your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat even more. You were breathless now—but not from fear.

“Your vows,” he growled. “All of them. From the top. Or I won't let go.”

Your eyes met his—dilated, dark, daring. You were burning alive under the weight of him. You wanted to spit something bratty, something cruel—

But your throat clenched when his free hand pushed down the waistband of your panties. You hadn't realised yet, but you were dripping, cunt exposed to the cool air as a defiant pout made its way to your face.

“No”

You meant to be a brat, really. You wanted to piss him off as bad as he had angered you, you wanted to get to his head and fry his nerves away with your mouth and actions. Act like some immature kid just to get him all riled up.

Now you think that might have been the greatest idea because your husband, John Price has never looked so good and so worked up because of you. And certainly turned on because of your behaviour.

His hands unbuckled his belt, a forearm still choking you. You squirm as he increases the pressure slightly. Patience brat, he snaps. He unbuckled his belt, languidly and helped his semi hardened cock out.

Rubbing the tip on your entrance as he pushed in slowly making you whine, Not fast enough. You try to push your hips back at him but he has one leg between yours and you pinned to the counter.

You whimpered.

“Come on brat, speak up” he grunted, the pink head of his tip stick rubbing against your folds to gather all the slick before he pushes in, “Come one don't make this hard for yourself baby girl, just obey” he huffed, softly pushing in and then pulling out again, leaving you empty.

“John please—” you whine, wiggling your hips again. He chuckles before pushing himself in you in one string thrust and pulls back out again, expect the tip, “Come on sweet thing, don't make it hard for both of us”

And you obeyed, nodding with a moan as he pushed in.

Through gasps, half-choked, you whispered them.

“I… I choose you.”

The pressure didn’t lift, his other hands now rubbing your clit in slow circles.

“I… follow you. Trust you.”

Still nothing. He keeps himself inside, deep as you can feel him— he hums praising you a little, urging you to say more.

You reached for him, fingers curling into his shirt like a white flag.

“I love you. Even when I hate you. Even when I wish I didn’t. Even when it hurts.”

Finally—finally—his grip eased, his hand replacing his forearm, rough fingers stroking the flushed skin of your throat. He looked down at you with something like pride. Or possession. He pulls back his hips and snaps softly, a slow rhythm. Nothing close to satisfaction between your legs and in your belly.

“No more of that hate talk, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “You don’t hate me. You just want me to remind you.” He chuckles, increasing pace as his forearms tighten again, making you go lightheaded.

His thrusts are relentless, making you gasp and claw at his shirt. Mouth slack open as you gurgle on your spit and beg with sweet whines and please of John please please please. But to a certain extent, the brat in you still there reveals itself.

Your lips trembled.

“Remind me again tomorrow,” you whispered, lips curling faintly followed by a moan.

That grin—the dangerous one—came back.

“Oh, I will.”

[rhiannonsknife]

cooking for lottie (because she definitely cant) and she walks up behind you, gets on her knees and starts eating you out…. *insert freaky sonic gif*

new domestic wife lottie thought for you!! every now and then, i will lock in for my fellow lottie lovers and drop multiple lottie pieces after almost exclusively writing for shauna, jackie & rhiannon 😭 nsfw content, mdni.

domestic (wife!!) lawtie :(((

you’re barefoot in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you dice vegetables for breakfast, the dull thunk of the knife hitting the cutting board keeping time with the sizzle of butter in the pan. behind you, lottie watches from the doorway, wrapped in a robe. her hair is still messy from sleep, one hand idly toying with the hem as she leans her shoulder against the frame.

“you always look so serious when you’re cooking,” she murmurs teasingly, finally making her presence known.

you laugh under your breath, focused on guiding the knife while simultaneously keeping an eye on the pan. “well, making breakfast in this kitchen takes some focus. our stove is old as hell, lot!”

you don’t hear her cross the floor, she’s always quiet like that, only feel her sudden warmth press against your back. lottie’s chin drops to your shoulder, nose brushing your neck.

“i keep telling you we can afford getting it replaced…” she sing-songs, warm breath curling around your ear as her fingers start to play with the baby hairs at your nape. “you’re warm��and you smell good.”

you tilt your head toward her, smile over your shoulder. “you’re weird”

“i know.”

then she sinks to her knees.

you don’t register it at first. there’s only the soft shift of weight behind you, the rustle of fabric and sensation of her skin brushing against your calves. it doesn’t click until her hands slide under your shirt, palms smoothing over your stomach as her mouth presses a kiss to the small of your back.

“lottie…?”

“shh,” she murmurs, nuzzling lower. “just keep doing what you’re doing”

the first few kisses she peppers across the back of your thigh are gentle. then her teeth graze you and one of her hands slips forward, under the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“lottie.”

another hum, her hands already sliding down your shorts and underwear. you shiver as they pool at your ankles, the cool morning air hitting your thighs.

“you’re always taking care of me,” lottie muses, pressing her cheek to your hip as she maneuvers you to face her way. “feeding me…loving me…” her breath is hot against you and she spreads you with both hands. “now i want to take care of you.”

your hips jerk instinctively the moment lottie puts her mouth on you, almost knocking into the stove. her lips part, her tongue sliding between your folds as though to memorize the shape of you. lottie stays on her knees, still fully clothed, still composed, while you’re bare and unraveling under her touch.

“i- lottie-” you try. your voice comes out thin.

in response, lottie only holds you tighter, pulling you against her mouth with both hands.

she has always looked at you like you were more than you believed yourself to be. now, her mouth is proving it all over again: there’s something desperate in the way she licks into you, like she’s starving, and you’re the first real thing she’s been given in weeks. lottie doesn’t rush, yet never stops. minutes pass with your legs trembling and her tongue lapping up your wetness, refusing to waste a single drop.

when her lips finally seal around your clit and suck, your entire body jolts. a cry punches out of your chest, one of your hands slips, and you brace yourself against the oven handle with a whimper.

“i’ve got you,” lottie whispers, without her mouth ever leaving you. she flicks her tongue against you again, circling, then presses in deeper. “just let go.”

you glance down, fingers tangled in her hair, and catch her eyes: lottie is looking up at you with her pupils blown wide, mouth swollen and slick, her hands clutching your thighs. “please,” she whines. “give it to me”

you don’t even know if she means your orgasm or your everything. either way, she gets it.

it rips through you suddenly, your knees buckling, thighs clenching around her head. you cry out as you fall apart, and lottie groans against your cunt, licking through every wave.

it takes minutes before you’re able to register anything again. your head is fuzzy. your legs ache. your body’s pulsing still from the aftershocks. lottie doesn’t stand. instead she guides you down with her, arms around your waist as she lowers you both gently to the floor. immediately, you collapse into her lap, boneless, back to her chest.

you can smell the eggs, surely burnt by now, and still don’t move to fix it.

lottie wraps her arms tighter around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck until your eyes blink open.

“there you are,”

[idkyetxoxo]

One | The Sweetest Sins | Daylight

Pairing - Rhysand x reader

Word count - 2.2k

Warnings - None

|| series masterlist || next ->

Being mated to the High Lord of the Night Court was, according to nearly everyone in Prythian, a feat reserved for the most poised, powerful, and mysterious females alive.

Graceful. Elegant. A walking embodiment of shadows and seduction.

And then there was me.

Where Rhysand was a symphony of control—velvet words, razor-sharp smiles, and the ability to turn silence into a weapon. I was... considerably less so. 

A one-woman whirlwind of untamed commentary, emotionally driven decisions, and the attention span of a magpie in a gemstone shop.

The Night Court hadn't known what hit it. Honestly, I wasn't sure Rhys had either.

At the very least, he never admitted it out loud.

Tonight, the long table in the House of Wind gleamed beneath soft golden faelight, platters of food scattered across its polished mahogany surface like offerings before gods. 

The air buzzed with the scent of roasted meats, spiced vegetables and the soft whisper of wind through the arched windows.

Rhysand sat to my right, a portrait of composed elegance in black. His attention flicked lazily between his plate and the conversation around him, every movement precise, practised. 

The silver circlet in his dark hair that I had insisted he wore caught the candlelight as if even starlight bowed to him.

Meanwhile, I vibrated beside him full of energy.

Cassian lounged across from us, already three glasses in and visibly bracing himself for the storm that was me. 

Azriel nursed his drink with quiet vigilance, shadows curling lazily at his shoulders like they, too, were eavesdropping.

"So," I continued brightly, "I told him, 'If you hate females so much, your father must have given birth to you.' And he didn't laugh. I mean—come on. That's good, right?"

Cassian barked out a laugh so loud he nearly choked. "You did not say that."

"Swear it," I said solemnly.

Azriel made a quiet, strangled sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a groan while still looking at me like I was a particularly amusing wildfire. 

Probably wondering whether to douse me or let me burn.

Next to me, Rhysand didn't say a word. He simply reached over, calm and sure, and twisted a lock of my hair gently around his finger. 

A silent tether. A quiet reminder that he was listening, always but more importantly, that he adored me exactly like this.

Just that little hum of amusement—the kind that said, You're ridiculous, but you're mine.

Honestly, that had been the exact energy the first time we met.

I'd been dangling upside down from the shelves of a particularly large library in Velaris. I had my reasons, of course. One of which involved a particular book I just had to get my hands on and a very angry, very large librarian who'd chased me up there with fury.

I was laughing because panic does that to me sometimes when Rhysand appeared below in a sweep of darkness and tailored perfection, looking up at me like I was mad.

"You do realise," he had said, casually folding his arms, "that beam is weight-rated for manuscripts, not mad females."

"I'm testing structural integrity," I called back, trying to sound dignified as blood rushed to my head. "For... Night Court security."

He had tilted his head. Smirked. And then I had felt it—

A tug. Gentle, invisible, unmistakable. A golden thread sliding into place, stitching something warm and ancient into my ribs.

The bond. It didn't snap—it sang.

And I knew that he'd felt it too.

Because one second I was contemplating the dangers of gravity, and the next I was in his arms, shadows coiling around us like a curtain drawn between the rest of the world.

"You're mad," he had murmured, voice curling in amusement as he tucked a stray strand of my hair away from my face

"You caught me," I had whispered back. It was all I could manage in the moment.

His eyes had burned like starlight when he spoke his next words. "You're mine, after all."

And now, seated beside him, I still wasn't sure if he'd ever recovered from that first moment.

Poor High Lord.

But then again... he had kept me.

"You're glowing again," Cassian said, mouth full of food. "Did you go snooping around Helion's library again or is it just post-mating glow?"

I blinked innocently at him. "Or maybe I'm just hot, Cass."

"Or delusional," Azriel muttered, eyes still on his wine.

I stuck my tongue out at both of them like the picture of maturity and leaned dramatically into Rhysand's side. 

He, of course, remained stoic, like a marble statue that had been mildly inconvenienced by a mischievous bird. A bird now stealing food.

With zero remorse, I reached across his plate and speared a glistening honey-roasted carrot with the wrong fork.  My fork. His plate. Classic.

"Are you going to eat your own food... or just all of mine?" Rhys asked lazily, tipping his chin toward his now empty side of the plate like he hadn't already predicted this outcome.

I blinked at him with round, doe-like eyes. "Are you gonna eat yours?"

There was a pause, just long enough to imply this was far from the first time we'd had this conversation. Then, with the patience of a male who had clearly accepted his fate, Rhys exhaled, slow and deep.

Cassian snorted into his glass. "She's like a raccoon in a pretty dress."

"She's been stealing my meals since our first dinner together," Rhys said mildly, as if he hadn't already resigned himself to this fate centuries ago.

"You weren't eating your asparagus!" I declared. "And I was hungry."

"Whatever you want, darling" he replied.

I grinned triumphantly, commandeering Rhys's entire plate like a conquering general and stabbing another carrot. "I think we should introduce Nuala and Cerridwen into our marriage."

Cassian choked on his wine. Azriel didn't even bother pretending not to listen now.

Rhys barely blinked. "And why's that, darling?"

"So we can always have access to food like this." I popped the carrot into my mouth and let out a completely inappropriate moan. "I could die happy with a tray of these beside me."

Cassian leaned back in his chair, smirking. "If you two are looking for a third, you don't have to look far."

I waved a dismissive hand. "Nuala and Cerridwen would make it a third and a fourth, Cass. Keep up please."

Rhysand nodded sagely. "She's not wrong."

Then, just to add insult to injury, he scooped up a spoonful of velvety pudding, the good kind, the one I'd been eyeing since we sat down and held it up to me in offering.

I puckered my lips dramatically. He groaned like I was killing him slowly, but still fed it to me. 

The pudding was creamy and spiced just right, and I gave another content sigh that made Azriel shoot a look toward the ceiling like he was begging for the Mother's mercy.

Rhys's hand slid to my waist, and with zero warning, he pulled me into his lap.

"Keep stealing my food," he murmured near my ear, voice as low and dangerous as it was teasing, "and I'll have to exact revenge. Slowly."

I turned in his arms, grinning with no shame whatsoever. "Ooh, terrifying. What are you gonna do? Feed me dessert until I surrender?"

Rhys's smirk curved slowly, dark and full of promise. The kind of expression that said he'd already thought of a dozen ways to ruin me—sweetly, slowly, delightfully. 

"Something like that," he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth.

His fingers brushed just beneath the edge of my shirt—nothing improper, but possessive. And warm. Gods, he was always so warm.

"Come taste," I whispered, voice curling with mischief as I scooped another bite of the rich, spiced pudding. I held it up to my mouth, licking the spoon slowly before popping it between my lips with a sinful little hum.

Rhysand's eyes gleamed, half-lidded and amused. But I wasn't done.

I leaned in, a whisper of movement, and pressed my mouth to his.

The kiss was soft at first, teasing. My lips brushed against his with a slow, deliberate slide, like caramel melting on the tongue. Then I parted them slightly, just enough for the taste of sugar and cinnamon to linger between us.

Rhys responded immediately.

His mouth deepened the kiss, tongue slipping past my lips to steal the sweetness right from me. It wasn't frantic, not rushed just a deliberate claiming, a savouring. 

Like I was the dessert now, and he had every intention of devouring me slowly.

The whole table seemed to vanish. The candlelight, the food, even the cold mountain air. There was only Rhysand, kissing me like he was drinking in something he'd been thirsting for all day. 

Like I was his home, his heat, his grounding point.

He pulled back an inch, barely enough for breath, his lips still grazing mine. His eyes were molten, voice low and hoarse when he spoke.

"Delicious."

Cassian groaned dramatically flopping back in his chair. "I'm going to be sick."

"Lovesick pups," Azriel muttered under his breath, though the smallest hint of a smile ghosted across his face.

But I didn't care. Because Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, kept holding me like I was his greatest victory... and I was still eating his pudding.

"You're mine, darling," he murmured, thumb brushing across my waist like he couldn't stop touching me. "Even if I lose every meal to you, I'll still count myself lucky."

"Good," I whispered back, chest pressed against his, "because I'm keeping you."

With that, I slid off his lap in one smooth bounce of motion, practically vibrating with renewed energy. Like the kiss had been a jolt of sugar to my bloodstream rather than something to slow me down. 

My legs barely hit the floor before I tugged on Rhys's arm, wide-eyed and ready for chaos.

"C'mon," I chirped, full of mischief, "let's go do something fun."

Rhys didn't even blink. Just one perfectly arched brow lifted as he looked down at me like I was an adorable storm cloud wrapped in silk. "Fun?"

I tugged again on his hand, already halfway out of the chair before I halted mid-motion and turned back toward the table, eyes wide. "Oh! Wait—grab the pudding."

Rhys blinked slowly. "The pudding?"

"Yes, obviously." I looked at him like he was the unhinged one. "You think I kissed you just because I like you? No, no. I intend to lick the rest of that pudding off you next."

There was a beat of silence.

Cassian made a strangled sound. "There goes my dinner," he muttered, shoving back his chair as if he couldn't get away fast enough.

"I don't need to hear that," Azriel added flatly, already vanishing into the shadows like the spirits of his patience had finally fled his body.

A swirl of red and gold flashed at the edge of the dining room.

"I do," Mor said, breezing into the room with a glass of something sparkling and undoubtedly strong in her hand. Her golden curls bounced with each step as she flashed a wicked grin. "Please tell me someone's taking notes."

I grinned and threw my arms out dramatically. "Mor! Save me from these overgrown bats!"

She snorted. "Darling, if I tried to save you, you'd just end up dragging me into your chaos."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She came over, kissed the top of my head in greeting, and winked at Rhys, who gave her an arched brow and the faintest nod—some amused form of communication that probably meant we love her, but she's your problem now.

Then she turned, already backing toward the door with her drink in hand and mischief still sparkling in her eyes. "Sorry, darling. I'm heading back out. There's a wine-soaked rooftop and three dancers waiting for me."

I gasped, placing a hand to my heart. "Without me?"

"You're otherwise occupied," she said over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. "Have fun doing... whatever it was you planned on doing."

Cassian made another strangled sound. "I'm begging you all—stop saying things that make me picture them doing things."

"Then stop listening," I said sweetly.

"Then stop narrating," Azriel's voice echoed faintly from a distant shadow.

Rhys, for his part, didn't even flinch. Didn't look surprised. If anything, he just let out a low, amused breath, like he'd predicted this from the moment I sat down.

He tilted his head, ever so slightly, and the corner of his mouth curved in that lazy, lethal smirk that made knees weak across courts.

"You want to lick dessert off your High Lord?" he asked, voice silk-wrapped sin.

"I always want to lick dessert off you," I replied sweetly, tugging him toward the hallway with both hands wrapped around his wrist like a leash. "And you keep letting me, so really, who's to blame here?"

Rhys's laugh was low and indulgent. "One day, I will say no to you."

"No, you won't."

He didn't argue.

Instead, he reached back with his free hand, grabbed the little silver dish of pudding with a dramatic flourish, and held it aloft like a trophy. "Lead the way, trouble."

I beamed.

And as we strolled out of the dining room hand in hand, with the pudding held in one of Rhys's hands and my shoes clicking too loudly on the marble floors, I felt his gaze drift back to me. 

Steady. Fierce. So full of love it made my steps stutter.

And somewhere behind us, Cassian was probably still gagging, Azriel was probably begging the Mother for patience, and dinner had ended in complete romantic chaos.

But Rhysand—High Lord of the Night Court walked beside me like the stars had never burned for anything else.

Maybe power didn't need poise. Maybe what it needed was balance. Not a perfect High Lady, but a storm to match the sea. 

Someone who'd burn the world down with laughter and rebuild it with love.

And Rhysand... Rhysand had always known how to hold fire.

A/n - First part in what's going to be a very fluffy, chaotic, love-drenched series!

This part is all about setting the tone—a warm, messy introduction to the dynamics between them and how their bond snapped into place :)

Thank you so much for reading and please don't hesitate to share your thoughts, I genuinely love reading your comments across all platforms. <33

Daylight tag list - @sttvrdustt @thirstyroses-world

[typhlonectes]

Iguanas floated 5,000 miles from North America to Fiji on vegetation rafts, new study finds

Around 34 million years ago, the ancestors of modern iguanas likely embarked on what may be the longest overwater journey undertaken by a nonhuman, land-dwelling vertebrate species. Starting off the epic trek from the western coast of North America, these iguanas traveled nearly 5,000 miles — one-fifth of the Earth’s circumference — across the Pacific Ocean, eventually arriving in Fiji, according to a new study. Using genetic evidence, researchers propose that these iguanas made the extraordinary voyage by rafting on floating vegetation, possibly composed of uprooted trees or plants...

Read more: https://cnn.it/4bWv8Kw

[22ayla21]

Vegetable Trickery

Women are cunning creatures; they'll even make lions eat vegetables.

As it turned out, raising two little lion cubs was not for the faint of heart. Especially considering they took after their father not only in appearance but also in culinary preferences.

Leona had always been a meat lover. If it were possible, he would eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Vegetables? Who needed them anyway? This was his firm stance since childhood. And, of course, his children inherited the same passion for meat and an absolutely sincere aversion to anything that even remotely resembled greens.

Their mother, however, held a different opinion. She was a reasonable woman and understood perfectly that children needed a balanced diet for normal growth and development. But how do you explain this to two little stubborn lion cubs who clearly took their dad’s disregard for vegetables as sacred law?

Useless. Absolutely useless.

Every attempt to serve anything other than meat turned into a mini-drama. The twins frowned, suspiciously examined their plates, and literally sniffed to make sure there was nothing "dangerous" lurking in their food. And if they found the slightest hint of vegetables, the game was lost. They immediately shouted that the "green stuff" was unnecessary and demanded "normal food."

Leona, meanwhile, sat nearby, arms crossed, smirking smugly.

"You know they're right, don't you?" he'd say mockingly, lazily bringing a piece of roast meat to his lips. "Why do they need those grassy things when we have real food?"

She just rolled her eyes. And that's when a cunning plan was born in her head.

First, she started small.

Finely chopped onions and garlic in the meatballs—too small for anyone to notice. Then—cauliflower puree, cleverly mixed with mashed potatoes. A spoonful of carrot juice in the broth, a little more vegetables in the sauce.

And, lo and behold! They ate. They ate and didn't notice the trick.

She began to master new ways of secretly delivering vitamins into her cubs' bodies.

Meatballs? Add finely grated zucchini to the minced meat.

Sauce for the meat? Blend tomatoes, bell peppers, and eggplant.

Pancakes? Let the batter include pumpkin puree.

Meat pies? What if the filling is half mushrooms and spinach?

They ate everything. And praised it!

Leona too.

At first, she worried he'd notice. After all, he was an adult man, and with an excellent sense of smell. But he ate, suspecting nothing. And when he once praised the "especially juicy" meatballs that contained grated zucchini, she had to exert all her effort not to burst out laughing right at the table.

"See, Mom?" her son proudly declared, chewing a piece of meat. "Dad also knows that normal food is only meat!"

"Of course, dear," she smiled gently, trying not to give herself away.

Leona nodded approvingly and reached for another serving.

Weeks went by, and her trickery remained undiscovered. The children were happy, their health was fine, and even the king of the family himself ate vegetables, unaware of it.

But one day, everything almost fell apart.

That evening, dinner was especially delicious—stewed meat in a thick sauce with fragrant spices. Everyone ate with gusto until her son suddenly frowned and started digging in his plate.

"Mom, what's this?" he suspiciously poked his fork at something green, peeking out from under a piece of meat. Her daughter froze, squinting.

"Looks like... a vegetable!"

Silence fell.

The little lions looked from their plates to their mother. Leona, who was finishing his piece of meat, paused, watching the situation with interest.

"Come on, Mom," he drawled with a sly grin. "You don't mean to tell us you've been slipping us vegetables all this time?"

She felt a chill run down her spine. But she couldn't show her nervousness. She smiled her most composed smile and calmly replied:

"Of course not, dears. It's just greens for flavor."

Her son narrowed his eyes suspiciously but, finding no convincing evidence of the crime, shrugged and went back to eating. Her daughter also nodded, accepting the explanation.

Leona, however, looked at her with a squint.

"You're more cunning than you seem," he drawled, shaking his head. "Should have guessed earlier."

She put on an innocent face.

"What are you talking about?"

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair again.

"Alright. Since you're so cunning that you managed to fool even me, then..." he took another piece of meat and popped it into his mouth, chewing with pleasure, "...maybe it's not so bad after all."

She had won. The lions in her family ate vegetables. They just didn't know it.

[reasonsforhope]

"On the heights of a mountain range just 30 miles west of Sydney’s Central Business District, the population of a charismatic marsupial was found to be ballooning despite recent fires.

Recorded at 45% higher than before Australia’s drought-wildfire combo of 2019, it was described as “nothing short of remarkable.”

The greater glider is an arboreal marsupial that can glide the distance of a football field using a long skin membrane that stretches between its arms and legs. With a diet composed exclusively of eucalyptus leaves, a lack of trees means a lack of gliders, and in the Blue Mountains, parts that were only lightly burned are positively full of these animals.

“It’s been fantastic to see greater gliders bounce back to well above pre-fire, pre-drought levels in the best and most lightly burnt habitat,” said Dr. Peter Smith, an experienced glider biologist, and author of the study that included the new population estimates. “Because of their low reproductive rate, we didn’t think that they’d be capable of making such a strong recovery. The rapid increase in numbers is extraordinary.”

On one night, he and his co-author/wife Judy used powerful flashlights to spot 59 gliders overhead in a single corridor located by the southern edge of the Blue Mountains National Park and near the adjoining Mares Forest National Park and Wombeyan Karst Conservation Reserve.

Gliders are not just vulnerable to logging and wildfires, they carry a mere one joey per year, and so have been assumed to be far more at risk than similar marsupials with greater fecundity.

Other surveys proved less-joyful, though. In some areas where the eucalyptus had not recovered from the 2019 fires, there were no gliders at all. Another way to look at that might be: provided eucalyptus trees can be restored to degraded habitats, gliders can take care of themselves.

“That’s why the remaining greater glider strongholds are so important,” Dr. Smith told WWF Down Under. “The forests in Mares Forest National Park and the southern end of Blue Mountains National Park now support exceptional numbers of greater gliders and are vital for the species’ recovery in this region.”

As to why this species might have been so much more well-stocked, Smith reckoned it was because of the increased rainfall in recent years, driving more heavy vegetation among the trees this flying possum calls home."

-Article via Good News Network, March 11, 2025. Video via World Wildlife Fund, June 15, 2022

[tender-rosiey]

slip up — gojo satoru x f!reader

satoru is a good dad, a great one even, but every great dad has a great slip up.

your husband’s happened when he was preparing a dinner surprise for you. he had his little missy help him out through the process, and everything was going according to plan until the batch of fresh cookie batter fell from his hands.

“oh fuck!” he had said, in panic, and scrambled to sweep them off the floor.

his little girl was standing there the whole time, staring at her papa. he quickly looks at her, “don’t say what papa said, okay? it’s a bad word.”

she frowned lightly, “then why did you say it, papa?”

“because—,” he took a deep breath, “papa made a mistake, but you have to be better than papa, please?”

your husband was worried the little devil wouldn’t let it slide and would hold it against him like she did with many other things; fortunately for him, though, she simply narrowed her eyes at him then quickly smiled with a nod, “okay!”

with a grin, he pulled her into his arms, “that’s papa’s girl!”

and so it was put behind them, never to be talked about. unbeknownst to your husband, however, the little girl has been practicing the word before she slept, muttering small little ‘fuck’s over and over again.

it was simple knowledge, only to be used in the far future, but how far?

anyway.

you guys are now on a family grocery trip, and your little daughter is more than ecstatic. she is running through the aisles, pointing and gaping at every product she sees—with occasional ew’s over others.

it was a fun time, but you had to actually get some of the necessities.

so you and satoru agreed to split up to make the search faster, and that’s why he and his little girl are roaming the store together.

d/n is seated comfortably in the cart as satoru pushes it, “okay, so mama said we need chicken strip, nuggets, milk, and butter—"

"yum!"

"—and frozen vegetables and peas.”

“ew.”

satoru nods, "ew, indeed," before planting a kiss on her cheek. "you really are my daughter!"

“yay!” she giggles, and politely asks to be picked up. the dramatic girl squeals until her feet touch the ground, and she bolts into the section of the frozen food. she points up, excited, “papa, there!”

your husband grins, “that’s right, smart girl!” he pats her head, and reaches for two bags of frozen vegetables, but, unfortunately, one slips out of his hand, “oh god—“

he bends down to pick it up, but he notices his daughter frowning at him, “what’s up, d/n?”

“papa, what the fuck.”

satoru’s eyes widen instantly as he gently holds her by the shoulders, “d-d/n, don’t say that,” he sweat-drops, “mama will get mad—“

“mad at what?” you smile at your family, finally back with your share of groceries.

your husband nervously chuckles, picking your little girl up and rocking her gently in his arms, “oh nothing! she was just playing with the bags, right, sweetie?”

d/n points at the bag on the ground, “papa dropped the fucking peas.”

the smile on your face tightens, “he did; didn’t he?” you step closer, and your husband freezes in place. you look sweetly at your daughter, “d/n, where did you hear that word?”

she tilted her head lightly, “which one?”

you’re gripping your husband’s hand tightly, preventing him from escaping. he will be facing your wrath today whether he likes it not. you hum, applying more pressure on his fingers and responding to your daughter, “the one that starts with the letter f, honey.”

she beams, “oh! I heard papa say it before!”

“really now?” your grip tightens and satoru swears that might pee himself right then and there. he also is fighting the need to scream. so you, for a moment, divert your attention to glare at him so he can compose himself.

and everyone knows that gojo satoru is a man weak, very weak, when it comes to his wife.

you look back at your daughter, “but seriously, don’t say that word again; it’s a bad word,” you pat her head, “good big girls don’t say bad words, right?”

she looks down at her feet and fidgets with her fingers, “yeah…but papa is big too!”

you pull your husband beside you, hand sliding around his waist, gripping him tightly, “papa can be a bad boy sometimes, but you are a good big girl,” you smile, “so you can do much better!”

you let go of your husband to hug your daughter, “promise me you won’t say it,” you stick your pinky finger out, and your daughter happily seals the deal.

“I promise, mama!”

"good girl; now, can you go to that nice lady and ask her where the tissues are?" you say as you plant a kiss on her cheek.

your little girl salutes you and immediately runs towards the woman, leaving you to deal with your other baby. you stand up to look at satoru. he takes a breath, “babe, you see—“

“you better pick your words correctly, ‘toru.”

he deflates and dejectedly wraps his arms around you, “I am sorry,” he grumbles, “I did tell her that it was a bad word though! I promise!”

you sigh and cup his face, “I know, I know, but you have to control your vocab around her as much as possible,” you turn your head to the cart full of a variety of candy. you frown, “why the fuck did you get so much candy, though? you know she would try to eat them all day—“

you hear a tiny gasp, “mama said a bad word!”

then you hear your husband using a high-pitched voice to mock you, “’ but you have to control your vocab around her as much as possible’.”

you stare at the both of them, before smiling, “both of you are grounded.”

“what?!”

satoru pouts, “you can’t ground me! I am your husband!”

“grounded,” you repeat, emphasizing each syllable.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[reysdriver]

Apple Of My Eye | E.M.

You and your coworker Eddie finally do something about your longtime mutual crush when he asks you out after a wild day at work — line cook!eddie x waitress!reader fluff

warnings: customer service nightmares, reader cries over it, I think that's it actually

words: 4.8k

The last thing you heard before shutting the walk-in freezer door behind you was a pan dropping to the floor and Eddie cursing loudly at no one in particular. You sat down with your back against a sack of potatoes beside the vegetable shelf. 

The tears that pricked at your eyes were free to run down your face now that you were in the privacy of the walk-in. It’s always been a good place to cry or scream if you were frustrated at work. 

You were slightly startled by the heavy door opening, but you knew you shouldn’t be; other people worked here too, of course. 

It was Eddie walking in, looking frustrated, though his expression softened when he locked eyes with you. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, letting the door close as he sat down next to you.

You scooted a bit to make more room for Eddie, but still brushed him off.

“I’m okay.” You sniffled, looking down at your feet. “Don’t you have a whole bunch of orders to fill?”

“You know I’m never too busy for you.” He replied, which earned a smile from you. 

It was a true thing, Eddie would always take the time, even in the busiest of rush hours, to compliment you, or make you a special plate of fries, or just let you know that your makeup had smudged in all the haste. 

He never did it with anyone else, not to the same level, at least. All your coworkers used that as proof that he had a thing for you in the same way that you did for him, but you never believed them. 

“So, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

There he goes, using that nickname that makes your heart soar. Now how could you not answer him after he asked as nicely as that?

“Some asshole got mad at me ‘cause I forgot he asked for no vegetables on his burger. He was calling me dumb and saying I’m a bad waitress and—”

“You’re not.” Eddie told you. “Don’t listen to him.”

 One look at Eddie’s pretty brown eyes told you he was being completely sincere, but you were still upset. 

“He was so mean, and he was kind of right.” You protested. 

Eddie shook his head. “Trust me, he’s not. You’re the only coworker I can stand, so you must be doing something right. Plus you just got your degree, so you’re not dumb.”

“It was community college, Eddie.”

“More than I have. Are you calling me dumb?” He nudged you slightly as he teased, and he was finally cheering you up. 

“No.” You shook your head, a bashful smile starting on your face. 

“Good.” He smiled too, happy that his mission of cheering you up was complete. “Now, I would wipe your tears, but my hands are probably covered in oil so I’m gonna need you to do it for me, okay?”

You nodded and used your index finger to wipe the tears under your eyes and on your cheeks. 

The line cook had his eyes trained on you when you looked up back at him, your eyes still glossy but your spirits higher. 

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted with a soft smile. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Anytime, princess.” He attempted to stifle a groan as he stood up, then stopped before opening the metal door. “I’ll tell Robin to cover your tables for a bit, so don’t worry about getting back to work. You can stay here as long as you want.”

After thanking him again, he flashed you a smile before exiting the freezer room. 

You stayed sitting there, replaying the conversation you just had once over in your head. Once you felt you were composed, you dusted off your clothes and reentered the kitchen. 

Though, as soon as you left the freezer, you could hear shouting coming from the front of house and you knew exactly who it was. 

See, after Eddie left the freezer, when you were busy wiping your tears, Eddie rifled through the receipts to find exactly the guy who made you cry. Not that he needed it anyways, it was obvious who the asshole was when he walked out to the tables and saw some angry looking loser picking at his french fries. 

Now Eddie was in the middle of shaming the man in front of the whole diner. 

Customers had their heads turned to watch the public scolding, and all the staff had paused their duties to stare from the sides of the room as well. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you? You’re a grown man and you can’t even bear to pick some tomatoes off your burger? You need to whine about the lingering taste of fuckin’ lettuce and make your poor waitress feel like shit?!” Eddie shouted at the guy you were serving. “You better give her one hell of an apology, you hear me?!”

The man nodded pathetically, clearly shaken by the cook’s rant. He probably couldn’t muster up an agreement even if he tried. 

Robin, who you had stood next to while watching Eddie chew that customer out, turned to you. She hardly looked flustered at all, since she was used to the diner’s usual activities. 

“And you still doubt that he likes you back.” She whispered with a smugly raised eyebrow. 

Eddie looked around the room for a moment and noticed you were there. With an outstretched hand and a soft voice, he beckoned you towards him and the man at the booth. 

“Sweetheart, can you come over here for a second?” He asked, ever so politely. 

You obliged and walked over to him, holding your breath as the threat of crying again was still there. 

Standing at the end of the table, Eddie’s gaze panned from you to the slightly terrified man sitting down. 

“Now’s the time for that apology, dickwad.” Your coworker gritted. 

The man struggled to look you in the eyes as he stuttered out some words of regret. “I’m sorry— Er, I’m sorry for complaining about the burger and saying all that rude stuff, too. I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you.”

The line cook looked over at you, gauging your reaction. “How was that?”

You nodded and flashed him a tiny smile, then told the customer that you accepted his apology. 

“Good.” Eddie declared. “Now I’ll go make you a plain, boring burger. And if you’re really sorry then this pretty girl better see a damn good tip when you finish your meal, got it?”

The man nodded meekly once again, and Eddie seemed satisfied with that. He walked back on over to the kitchen while you made your way to your other tables, and the rest of the diner resumed eating and conversing—definitely discussing what just happened.

For the rest of his meal, the man was nice to you. Avoidant for sure, but nice nevertheless. And when he paid, he left a whopping twenty dollar tip and left in a hurry. 

Now that the lunch rush was over, you checked the kitchen for Eddie, then Jonathan informed you that he was out back taking a smoke break. 

You thanked him, and headed to the back exit of the building where you knew the cook spent a part of every shift. Sure enough, he was standing right next to the door with a cigarette in hand. 

“Hey, princess,” Eddie said, exhaling a cloud of smoke away from you. “what are you doing back here?”

You smiled at him and fished the twenty dollar bill out of your pocket to display it. “That guy you yelled at left me a pretty nice tip. Here, it’s yours.”

He shook his head and held out a hand to gesture that he couldn’t take it. “No way, you deserve it. Fuckin’ least you should get after having to deal with that asshole.”

You laughed at his dismissal and tried offering again. 

“Come on, you practically mugged that guy to get this money, you have to take it.”

He looked at you with a slight grin, but you couldn’t decide if his expression was that of smugness or entertainment. 

“You can hold out that cash until your wrist falls off, I won’t take your money.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, sincere but still purposefully overdramatic. You put the bill back in your apron and quickly counted out ten ones that you had earned from other tables, then held those out instead. 

“You should at least have half. I can’t let you leave with nothing. If you don’t take it now, I’ll follow you around all day, begging you to take it.” 

Eddie cocked his head to the side and smiled. “As tempting as that is, sweetheart, I can’t steal you away from your job like that. I’ll take that money, but I’ll be spending it on you.” 

Your heart fluttered at Eddie’s flirting, which was far less subtle than usual. You had to bite the tip of your tongue to prevent yourself from grinning ear-to-ear. 

He reached out to take the cash, but he was still grinning mischievously. 

“With my half of the cash, I wanna take you on a date, if you’ll let me.”

Holy shit. You never thought he’d ask. And you had expected even less that he would ask in such a gentlemanly manner. Eddie was the type of guy to accidentally tell his boss to fuck off after coming into work hungover, not use the phrase ‘if you’ll let me’. 

“I’d like that.” You responded, way more chill than you had expected your reaction to be. “Anything you have in mind?”

“You trying to expose the fact that I’ve thought about this before?” Eddie smirked, which in turn caused you to blush even more than before. “What time do you get off work tonight?”

“Seven, and you?”

“Same. We can rent a movie and I can make you dinner at my place?” 

Shit, Eddie thought, I don’t remember the state I left my trailer in. 

He tried recalling how messy he left his home, quickly so he could take back the offer if needed. 

“Yeah, sounds great.” 

Too late now. But as nervous as he was for you to walk into his trailer and see a bunch of dirty dishes and laundry piles, the feeling of glee he felt because you said yes was trumping that a hundred times over. 

“Perfect.” Eddie said, stamping out his burnt cigarette. He opened the door back to the restaurant and held it open so you could go first. “After you.”

“Thanks.” You said, barely able to hide your giddy grin. “I gotta get back to my tables, but I’ll see you at seven.”

You both parted ways with matching smiles, hoping the rest of your shifts fly by faster than usual. For the rest of the day, you seemed to have an extra pep in your step while you waited tables. 

As seven o’clock approached, you passed off all your tables to other coworkers, told Steve and Robin you wouldn’t need a ride home, and headed to the washroom to fix your hair and touch up your makeup. 

Once you were satisfied, you headed to the locker room, where Eddie was standing casually against his own locker. His bored expression morphed into a bright look when he saw you walk in. 

“Hey.” Eddie said as you opened your locker and put away your apron. “Ready to go?” 

You nodded, and he opened the door for you once again. Such a gentleman when he wants to be. 

“So, any movie ideas?” He asked as you both got into his van. 

“Something fun.” You told him. “Maybe something like Ferris Bueller's Day Off or Splash?” 

“Anything you want.”

For the ride over to the video store, you listened to the radio—a station with both pop and rock—and chatted about everything under the sun. 

Once you got to Family Video, you headed towards the comedy section whereas Eddie got distracted by a display of staff picks near the front. He called your name, and you turned around to see him holding up The Texas Chain Saw Massacre with a simper. 

“This can be fun, don’t you think?”

You shook your head. “Not if we’re eating tonight. I’ll throw up everywhere. And that’s not the kind of thing that earns a second date.”

He put it down and walked towards the aisle you were standing in. “So you’re already thinking about a second date, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes and went back to browsing the shelves. Your eyes landed on a familiar favourite, so you grabbed it and held it up to show Eddie. 

“Clue, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you couldn’t do murder movies?”

“No, I just said I couldn’t do that one. This one is hilarious and agreeable.”

“Alright. Hand it over, I already promised to pay for whatever you want.”

You give the tape to him like he asked and you both walk over to the cashier, a teenager who looked extremely disdainful about his job. Eddie pulled out some of the cash you had made him take earlier and placed it on the counter. 

Once the transaction was over, you thanked both Eddie and the bored worker, then you headed back out to Eddie’s car. 

“So, what meal are you going to spend the remaining five dollars and something cents on?” You asked him, buckling yourself as he rolled out of the parking lot. 

Eddie always hated his seatbelt, but he put it on after you—’cause of that damn new law they put in last year.

“I’ll put that in my pocket and save it for the next date. I already have all I need for dinner at home.”

You hummed, slightly surprised. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I just wouldn’t have pegged you as a chef outside of the diner. You always seem like you’re done with cooking forever when you clock out.”

“You’ve got me there.” Eddie responds. “I only cook at home when it’s for someone else. When I’m alone, my meals are mostly toast and canned pasta.”

“So who else were you planning on cooking for? You said you have all those ingredients.” That was half teasing, half genuinely curious about Eddie’s personal life. 

“My uncle, actually. I cook him dinner once a week, mostly ‘cause it proves to him that I can eat healthy.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“What can I say?” Eddie shrugged dramatically. “I’m just a sweet guy.”

Once you arrived at Eddie’s trailer, he was relieved to open the door and see that his place hadn’t been left in shambles. The place wasn’t as neat as he would like for a first date—especially one with you—but it was good enough. 

“So, this is it.” Eddie said, arms outstretched like a real estate agent. “You want a tour or is that just for stuffy old people?”

“I’ll take a tour.”

Eddie was kind of hoping you didn’t say that. The trailer was small and he was a little embarrassed. But he supposed it was his own fault for asking in the first place. 

“Alright. Here’s the living room, it’s where I smoke and watch TV.” 

You let out a giggle at the bluntness of his tour. He was glad his joke (half-joke) didn’t fall flat. 

“And you can follow me three feet to the kitchen, which is where I make good meals for others and crap for myself.”

He opened a cupboard full of canned food and snacks for the realtor effect, then did the same with the fridge. He waved a hand near it like a magician showing off a box that no longer contains a woman in a sparkly leotard. 

“We can then move on to the bathroom. It’s got a shower with mediocre water pressure, a pretty average toilet, and a sink that’s covered in toothpaste—don’t look at that, actually.”

You kept walking to the only other real room in the trailer, his bedroom. It was about the size of the kitchen area, and it was very distinctly Eddie. All the walls were covered floor-to-ceiling in posters for metal bands and movies he likes, every surface was covered in snack boxes and ashtrays, and he had one incredibly cool guitar hanging in the middle of his wall. 

After staring at the room for so long that you probably had at least one wall memorised, you and Eddie both realised you hadn’t spoken in a while. 

“This is where the magic happens.” Eddie said, not quite as smoothly as he was going for. 

“The magic?” You teased. 

He thought for a second, then clarified. “Not that kind of magic. I just make music and write Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.”

“That can be pretty magical.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah, but not as magical as the dinner I’m about to make for you. If you’re not excited already, you should start.”

You both left his bedroom and Eddie instructed you to relax in the living room and turn on the TV to something you could use as a backdrop while Eddie cooked. 

While he made dinner, you sat comfortably on his couch and chatted with him from the other room. You got to know each other, more than you do at work. Eddie told you about his band and how they play at The Hideout, you told him about your time at community college and your friends outside of the diner. 

“Alright, soup’s on.” Eddie announced, setting two plates on his kitchen table and inviting you over. “Actually, it’s not soup, it’s chicken parm.”

“I appreciate the clarification.” You sat down in the seat closest to you. “It looks good. Smells amazing too.”

And it really was as amazing as it seemed. Although you were no stranger to Eddie’s cooking, all you’ve ever had made by him was diner food. Of course, the diner food was great, but this was another level. You weren’t sure what set it apart; maybe it was just the quality ingredients and lack of yelling while cooking. 

Once your plate was almost empty, Eddie asked if you wanted dessert too. You were slightly confused as you hadn’t seen him make any dessert to go along with the meal, but you agreed anyway. 

“Did you make dessert?” You asked after he stood up. 

“Nope, but I’ve got all the ingredients, so I can make it now.”

“Oh.” You suddenly felt bad, even though he already offered and went through with making you food. “Well, I don’t want to put you out. We can just watch—”

“It’s okay. I don’t have the ingredients for anything fancy. Just the simple stuff.”

That made you feel a little better. You were still curious, but for a different reason now. What could Eddie make quickly to pair with that fantastic dinner. 

You watched as he pulled out Oreos and gummy worms. Was he making a child’s favourite snack as your dessert?

“What are you planning there?” You asked him. 

Then you saw him open the fridge and pull out chocolate pudding cups, then it all clicked in your head. 

Holy shit. Worms and Dirt. 

That was absolutely not what you were expecting, but it was definitely a welcome surprise. 

“I was thinking about just serving up sliced apples and peanut butter along with some cheesy pick-up line like ‘you’re the apple of my eye’, but I figured that would scare you away.” 

“I don’t think that would scare me away.” You told him. “In fact, I would have found it cute. But I’m happy with the pudding.”

Eddie was quite flattered by that, though he tried hard to not let it show. You could definitely see a blush on his cheeks and the corners of his lips turning upwards, as much as he covered it up.

“You ever had Worms and Dirt?” He asked, opening up the Oreo pack. 

“Yeah.” You answered from your seat at the table while he scraped off the cookie filling. “My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid.”

Eddie stopped preparing the food for a second as he turned and gave you a genuine smile. 

“Me too.” 

After that, Eddie went back to making the dessert, the happy expression still lingering on his lips. 

“I’m almost done, do you want to pop the movie in while I’m finishing up?”

You nodded, then waltzed over to the living room to start up Clue. While the opening credits rolled, Eddie took a seat next to you on the couch and spread out a couple bowls and several pudding cups on his coffee table. 

He handed you a spoon and gestured to the setup in front of you two. 

“I figured we could do like a make-your-own thing, just ‘cause I always find one is never enough, and then you can choose your portions, you know?”

You hummed in agreement. “It’s a pretty good idea.”

Eddie then pointed to the bowl in between the cookie crumble and gummy worms. Inside that one was the creme filling he had just scraped out of the Oreos. 

“Oh, and that’s for you.” 

Just like Eddie earlier, you were super flattered but didn’t want to show your cards. You thanked him for saving you the best part, and then the two of you made your desserts and brought your attention to the movie. 

Somewhere along the way while watching it, you and Eddie had moved from your spots on opposite ends of the couch to meeting somewhere in the middle, wrapped up with each other. 

You were pressed against his side with a hand on his back and an arm around his abdomen. He had his arm slung around your shoulder, and you liked it. He liked it too. And truth be told, you had both pictured yourself before in this exact position—among others. 

As Wadsworth dramatically ran through each murder and event of the night, Eddie subtly looked down to see your entertained expression trained on the TV screen. 

Even though Eddie quite liked the movie you were watching, he liked you more. He was trying to think of a way to make a bigger move on you instead of actually paying attention. 

He was about to do it too. Just as his hands started to wander, there was a knock at his front door that caused you both to back off of each other and turn your heads that way. 

“It’s probably just some kid looking for weed. I’ll be back in a second, you don’t need to pause it.” Eddie told you as he stood up.

“Okay. Hurry up or you’ll miss the ending!” You told him. 

He opened the door and sure enough, it was a kid looking for weed. Some high schooler, maybe seventeen years old. In one hand, he had a couple crumpled bills, and the other one was in his pocket. 

“Someone told me to come here for… stuff.” The kid said to Eddie. 

“Okay, how much do you want?” Eddie replied. 

The boy looked confused, thinking it through. 

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. “I was just told to bring money.” 

“Okay, well I’ve got someone over and you’re wasting my time a little bit. How about you just hand me that money, and I’ll bring you whatever that’s worth?”

“Okay.” 

The kid handed over the cash and Eddie told him to stay at the door while he counted the money and walked over to his bedroom. 

He came out with a small baggie in his hand and flashed you a quick apologetic grin before facing the kid again. 

“There you go. Enjoy.” 

Eddie shut the door behind him and walked back to the couch to sit with you again, just as the movie was wrapping up. 

“I’m sorry about that. I was hoping tonight could go interrupted, but that’s never the case, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. I didn’t know you still dealt.”

The staff at the diner was pretty close-knit, and you had heard lots about Eddie selling drugs in high school, but you had figured that was in the past. You weren’t judging, though. People do what they can to pay the bills—you were both working in a diner at the edge of your crappy town, you know all about that. 

“I don’t really. Just from time to time, I guess.” Eddie shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Everyone’s gotta do what they can in life. I don’t have a problem, as long as you’re okay with it.” 

“Cool.”

You both just looked at each other for a second, not sure what to say now. Eddie missed the perfect opportunity to make the move he wanted to make on you earlier, and now the movie was over. 

You both silently cursed yourself for not doing what you really wanted to do earlier, but the mood was interrupted by a kid at the door wanting to get high. 

Although you wanted to stay at Eddie’s place for longer, you knew the night was coming to a natural end. 

“I should probably get home soon. I have work in the morning.” 

Eddie was mentally kicking himself for not doing anything earlier, but he definitely wasn’t going to try and convince you to stay since he was aware how that could make him seem. 

“Yeah, okay. I can drive you home.” He stood up and grabbed his car keys from the counter. “You know, Steve’s probably already getting his beauty sleep or something.”

You thanked Eddie and strolled over to him, who was holding the door open for you. 

The two of you walked out to his van, and you slid into the same seat where you had begun the evening. Eddie sat down next to you and flashed you a quick smile before starting the car. 

The ride back to your place was, for the most part, quiet and awkward; it was a sad change from the chemistry you were feeling just an hour ago. 

When you arrived back home, Eddie stopped the car, but you spoke before you got out and the night would be officially over. 

“Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I think we should do this again.”

He looked flustered for a moment. It was no more than a second, but you caught it anyway.

“Well, thanks for saying yes, sweetheart. Are you doing anything Sunday?”

“I have a shift in the morning, but I’m done by the early afternoon.”

“Perfect.” Eddie smiled. “I’ll think of something for us to do then.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt as you badly masked a grin. 

“Okay. It’s a date.”

Eddie opened the door on his side, and so you followed suit. 

“You want me to walk you back?” Eddie offered. 

You stood a foot and a half away from Eddie beside his van and looked back to your apartment building. 

“Steve and Robin are probably pressed against the peephole right now, so I don’t know.”

Eddie ran his hand through his hair and shook his head amusedly. “Ah, I see. You’ve already got people looking out for you?”

You hummed, biting your lip softly. 

“So…” You trailed off. 

“So?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

That’s when you finally took your chance. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, just by the corner of his mouth. 

You backed away, and Eddie seemed flustered but happy, so you knew it went well. 

“Thanks again. I’ll see you at work, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said quietly. “See you.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie flustered like that. Usually he was calm and collected, or at least yelling, if we’re talking about being in the kitchen at the diner. But very rarely did Eddie blush, and that’s exactly what he did after you kissed him. 

He guessed that it made a lot of sense that you could be the one to make him feel things that no one else can. 

Eddie watched as you walked over to the front of your building and gave him a wave before going inside. His thoughts were moving so fast, he can’t even remember if he waved back. Damn, he hopes he waved back. 

Then, as soon as you were inside and you were both out of each other’s sight, Eddie had to let out his excitement. He took a step out and threw his head forward, shouting at the top of his lungs. 

He stopped the moment he realised you might be able to hear him, and quickly went back into his van. Then he started shouting inside the privacy of those metal walls. 

Eddie was really excited about seeing you tomorrow. 

Little to Eddie’s knowledge, you were just as excited as him, if not even more.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Can You Imagine the Crab-Eating Frog?

The crab-eating frog (Fejervarya cancrivora) is a species of frog found throughout southeastern Asia, including Taiwan, southern China, the island of Sumatra, and the Philippines. They reside primarily in mangrove swamps, as well as tropical rainforests, estuaries, and near freshwater ponds and streams. They are particularly noted for their ability to tolerate high salinities, and they are the only known amphibian to make excursions into pure salt water.

The crab-eating frog is named for its usual diet which, around the mangrove, estuary, and coastal parts of its distributon, is composed mainly of crabs. This is supplemented with insects and smaller frogs, and near fresh water without crabs they make up the bulk of F. cancrivora's diet. Due to their small size, they have many predators, including birds, snakes, lizards, jungle cats, and larger fogs. Crab-eating frogs avoid being eaten by hiding in grass or under vegetation and leaf litter during the day; they are also more active at night.

Male and female crab-eating frogs are fairly similar in appearence. Both can be tan or brown, with dark mottling to resemble the muddy substrate in which they hunt, and a light underbelly. Females are slightly larger than males, reaching up to 10.7 cm (4.21 in) in length compared to only 8 cm (3.14 in). Males may also have dark throats, while females are bare.

Crab-eating frogs can breed year-round, but is particularly active during the wet season from June to October. Males will gather around bodies of water and call to attract females. Once a female has selected a mate, she will lay her eggs while he grasps her from above and fertilizes them. The eggs remain in the body of water in which they're laid without parental care. After hatching, the tadpoles take about three weeks to develop into adults.

Conservation status: F. cancrivora is considered Least Concern by the IUCN. They are harvested for food, but their primary threat comes from habitat destruction.

Photos

Nick Baker

Elijah Wostl

Benard Dupont

[a-casxandra]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃

zayne x non-mc

Sypnosis : At Akso Hospital, love is tested beneath the hum of fluorescent lights and the weight of unspoken words. You and Zayne, a brilliant but distant surgeon, have spent three years together—balancing careers, love, and sacrifice. But when his childhood friend is admitted as a critical patient, lines begin to blur, and hearts begin to break.

In a world where timing is cruel and silence speaks louder than truth, one choice will change everything.

You and Zayne had been together for almost three years. Three years of shared dreams, late-night shifts, fleeting kisses between surgeries, and quiet mornings when neither of you had the energy to speak. Everything was good—or at least, that’s what you believed.

Both of you were surgeons at Akso Hospital, living under the same fluorescent lights and constant beeping monitors. The job was demanding. But love... you always believed love found time, no matter how busy.

Zayne Li—the top surgeon in the hospital. Ebony hair, hazel green eyes, and a presence so composed it unnerved others. Starcatcher Awardee. Unshakable. Cold, some would say. But not to you. You knew him differently. Knew the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly after losing a patient, or how he watched the sunrise like it was the only soft thing left in this world.

But lately, that softness was no longer yours.

It shifted.

To her.

To MC.

She was young. Sweet. Talkative. Friendly. His childhood friend. And now—a patient. When she arrived with a heart condition, Zayne took it upon himself to be her personal doctor. No one questioned it. Of course he would.

And you didn’t either. Not at first.

“You should eat more vegetables,” Zayne said, setting down a tray of food beside MC’s bed.

“Says the doctor who hates carrots.” She laughed, pointing at him with her fork. “And don't think I forgot you hoarded all the sugar packets in the lounge.”

You stood in the hallway watching them—his smile. The way he leaned a little closer. The way her fingers touched his wrist casually, familiarly.

Yvonne, manning the front desk, turned to you with furrowed brows. “Don’t you think they’re… too close?” she asked quietly.

You forced a smile. “That’s nonsense. They’re just friends…”

But the words felt like ash on your tongue.

One night, you walked into MC’s room with a folder in hand.

“Zayne, can I—”

You stopped.

Your world stopped.

His lips were on hers.

He pulled away instantly when he saw you. “This—this isn’t what it looks like.”

You stared blankly. Cold rushed to your limbs. “I’m sorry if I bothered you,” you whispered, then turned away.

Zayne followed you into the quiet hallway. Midnight. Only a few nurses on night shift, none paying attention.

“[reader], wait, please—let me explain.”

“What is there to explain!?” you snapped.

“MC and I are just friends—” “It sure doesn’t look like that.” Your voice broke. “Do our three years together mean nothing to you?”

“No! Of course they do. I just—Please… don’t make me choose between you.”

That silenced everything.

You looked at him, tears trembling in your lashes. “Why? Because you’d choose her?”

And he said nothing.

MC’s condition worsened. The waiting list for a heart donor was long. Too long.

You saw her cry. You saw Zayne hold her, tell her he’d find a way.

And so, you made the decision for him.

“I have everything, don’t I?” you told Yvonne quietly, days later as you stood in the prep room. “I achieved my dream. I became a surgeon. I saved lives…”

You smiled faintly. “Maybe saving hers will be the last thing I do right.”

Yvonne choked back tears. So did Dr. Greyson. The nurses. All of them. Because they knew. They all knew what you were about to give up.

Six hours.

The operation was successful.

MC’s vitals were stable.

Applause echoed softly in the room—relieved sighs from nurses, notes scribbled into charts, another life saved. Zayne, still in his surgical scrubs, removed his gloves, sanitized, and walked out.

The first thing he asked was:

“Where’s [reader]?”

No one answered.

His eyes narrowed. He asked again. More firmly.

Greyson finally stepped forward.

“…zayne.. maybe you shouls follow me.."

Zayne was led into another room. The air felt wrong. Heavy. And then—he saw the surgical table. A body, still, beneath a white sheet.

And when the blanket was pulled away—

It was you.

It had always been you.

The donor.

The girlfriend he could never bring himself to choose.

Now gone.

Forever.

Zayne’s knees gave out beneath him. For once, the cold and stoic surgeon—broke.

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱

𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴.

Author's note : zayne's pov was already written in my draft actually hehehe. also, i'm still in the process of writing sylus's story. penny for your thoughts, regarding this story?

[adamaramma]

Umm, im so sorry, but WHY do we get scenes drawn amazingly in the manga by Tatsuya Endo, that end up falling flat in the anime rendition????

This moment in the manga is so great because it gives us a rare glimpse of Twilight’s vulnerability. Normally, he’s composed and calculated, but here, his guilt seeps through in a way that feels unintentional and raw.

The way he turns his entire body toward Yor and stares directly at her speaks volumes. It’s not just an apology; it’s a physical, knee-jerk reaction. His usual composure slips, and for once, we see the human side of him—the man beneath the perfect spy persona.

Even his facial expression, the sweat dripping down and his wide eyes show that he's nervous, maybe even scared to have breached the artificial relationship him and Yor have.

BUT NOOOOOOOO, FOR SOME REASON, THE ANIME DECIDES TO GO IN A COMPLETELY OPPOSITE DIRECTION???? (tf?????)

Don’t even get me started on how the anime handles the scene. For some inexplicable reason, instead of showing Twilight’s raw vulnerability (one of the most defining moments of his character), they completely water him down.

It’s like they decided, “You know what? Let’s strip away all the emotional depth and just make him… vaguely upset.”

Gone is his uncomposed outburst, replaced with a vegetable looking blank stare and an apology so weak it could be outperformed by a shrug emoji.

(like???????)

Give me a break.

(i'm not joking when I say this genuinely pisses me off lol)