#black soybean tea

[iwillbemother]

温かいお茶が飲みたい気温になってきたので、無印良品で黒豆茶を買ってみたところ、香ばしくて美味しかった🍵

無印良品に行ったのは何十年かぶりで、扱っているのもが昔と違って多岐に渡っていて驚いた😳

パジャマも買ってみたら肌触りが良くて、快適に眠れている😴

[00airi]

[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.

[lanymme]

Hey. Kiara sure likes ohagi, doesn’t she?

It’s a cute quirk, but it’s also deeply, deeply tragic in a very subtle way that's hard to piece together unless you know about japanese sweets or Kiara’s personal history.

So let’s learn a little bit about ohagi, and why Kiara loves it so much!

Ohagi, and the very similar sweet botamochi, are traditional japanese sweets made from glutinous rice with a coating of sweet red bean paste and, optionally, a dusting of something else, often ground black sesame or soybean flower.

Here’s some that I made for Kiara’s birthday last year! They’re very doable and pretty tasty.

Higan is a Japanese buddhist festival celebrated around the spring and autumn equinoxes, and ohagi or botamochi is eaten as a ritual food during that equinox. Sources I found indicated that the difference between ohagi vs botamochi is not easy to pin down, but some say that the sweet is called ohagi when eaten for the autumn equinox. (This is beside the point, but the red spider lily, with which Kiara is strongly associated, also blooms around that time.) If you want to know more, check out this article I found on the history of ohagi and its ritual connection.

Kiara was born as the heir and savior to a mountaintop Buddhist cult. Her upbringing was deeply abusive, and despite the fatal illness she suffered from, for which her community and her father gave her no treatment, she was denied any semblance of a normal childhood while she was molded to be their perfect savior.

Nothing that inspires attachment was allowed to her. The book of fairy tales she ended up with was deemed inappropriate and taken from her because she spent too much time reading it, liked it too much.

It’s hard to imagine her being allowed sweets like a normal kid, since they’re designed for stimulating flavor.

But, of course, ohagi isn’t just a sweet. It’s a ritual food. So they couldn’t deny her that, could they?.

As a child, those 7 days surrounding the equinox twice a year were probably the only time she ever got to have sweets.

And of course, she probably learned to be very careful about not letting on that she was enjoying herself. Not overindulging.

Like fairy tales, it was a tiny piece of happiness that accidentally slipped through the cracks and gave her something to latch onto. And, like fairy tales, she carries it with her into adulthood.

It’s not coincidence that she makes ohagi and tea instead of chocolates for Valentine’s. In this new place where she can heal a little bit from her past and grow, she takes the chance to make ohagi herself, instead of waiting for the proper holiday; and to share them with someone else as a thing she loves, instead of hiding them away.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 9: Why Don’t We Go There]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (+18), beef cattle, drugs, alcohol, smoking, Walmart, vegan baking, David Archuleta, mental health struggles, pregnancy, pigs, bodily injury, death, miscarriage, Jace acting vaguely human, angst, Southern Baptists, Cookie Monster pajama pants.

Selected Chapter Quote: “You have no idea how much I’ve kept from you.”

Word count: 8.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​@doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @bhanclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​ @mariahossain​ @echos-muses​ @padfooteyes​ @minttea07​ @queenofshinigamis​ @juliavilu1​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @lauraneedstochill​ @wintrr13​ @r0segard3n​ @seabasscevans​ @tsujifreya​ @helaenaluvr​ @hiraethrhapsody​​​

Only 1 chapter left! 💜

The last day of summer, the first day in Kansas City: emerald seas of soybeans, cornstalks taller than you are, massive tractors rolling laggardly on the shoulder of the road, red-tailed hawks perched on utility poles, cloudless cerulean skies, sunlight that beats down like soft rain. There is a long, rambling dirt driveway that leads from Route 210 to your parents’ farm. When you climb out of the Escalade, you cannot hear traffic or voices or some playlist of bygone pop hits or ice cubes jangling in misty glasses or the roar of jet engines. You can hear only the sounds of the Midwestern earth: wind in the leaves, cicadas humming, the distant mooing of black angus cattle. For a moment, Comet Donati just stands there breathing in the unhurried, golden air like the atmosphere of a new planet, their lungs acclimating, their eyes wide and peering around. Where have we landed? Any signs of intelligent life?

There are footsteps and then the squealing creak of the screen door as your dad throws it open. Along with your parents pour out five Australian cattle dogs. They bark uproariously, herding the new arrivals like errant calves. Aemond laughs and crouches down in the dust of the driveway to pet them. Rhaena screams and clings to Luke.

“Belmont! Bel, you git down!” your dad scolds, pulling her away from Rhaena by the collar: pink, so everyone knows she’s a girl. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart, she don’t bite none.”

“Unless you’re a cow, of course,” your mom adds, tittering merrily. She starts handing out glasses of sweet tea, already dripping with condensation. Outside it’s 80 degrees even.

Your dad whistles as he studies Aemond’s scar, his sightless left eye like a pool of blue fog. “That must’ve hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“Jeff!” your mom objects mildly; she abhors swearing.

Aemond considers your dad: a man who doesn’t flinch away from him, who doesn’t bury truths under the cover of night. “It did.”

“My uncle came back from ‘Nam with something like that. Was never right again.” He taps his own skull. “You must be tough as nails to be carrying on like you are, son. What happened to you was a damn shame.”

“Jefferson, please!” your mom says.

“The man’s been to New Jersey, Carol! I think he’s heard worse words than bitch and damn!”

“Her name’s Belmont?” Rhaena says, frowning nervously at her canine tormentor: rust-orange, brown-eyed, tail wagging eagerly at the prospect of making new friends.

“You betcha.” Then your dad informs Aemond: “That’s Lone Jack you got there.” He points to the remaining dogs. “And the others are Carthage, Kirksville, and Island Number Ten. We call her Tenny.”

“They’re all named after Civil War battles,” you tell Comet.

“Civil War battles in Missouri,” your dad says. He turns to his guests. “Were you aware that over 100,000 Missourians served in the Union Army? Ulysses S. Grant’s first military assignment was in Missouri. He met his wife Julia here.”

“Daddy, they’re English. They don’t know what the Union Army is.”

“Were they for or against staying colonies?” Aegon asks, and Criston covers his face and groans.

Your dad spots the motorcycle Aemond rode here from the airport, weaving between the Escalades until Criston stuck his head out a window to yell at him. “Lord almighty, is that a Gold Star?! Made by the Birmingham Small Arms Company?”

“Yes sir,” Aemond says, smiling down at a delighted Lone Jack and scratching his long pointy ears.

“An ingenious piece of machinery! ‘55?”

“1960.”

“Remarkable.” Your dad admires it. He’s wearing red flannel, Wrangler jeans, the UChicago hat that you bought for him your freshman year of college.

“We’ve been told you don’t eat meat,” your mom says to Aemond, with a gentle, sympathetic tone like she’s conscious of some bad luck that’s recently befallen him: a grim diagnosis, a storm that carried away his house. “So I’ve got some chicken soaking in buttermilk to fry up for supper.”

Aemond chuckles uncertainly.

“No, she’s serious,” you tell him. And then: “Mama, we went over this on the phone. He’s vegan. That means no animal products at all. No meat, no poultry, no fish, no dairy, no eggs, nothing that came from an animal.”

“Well I’ll be, what the heck does he eat?!” your dad says. “Carrots? Acorns? Sticks and leaves? He can graze out in the pasture if he likes.”

“We’ll find you something,” you promise Aemond.

Your dad surveys Aegon (white cargo shorts, neon pink tank top, sparkly matching Crocs) and then Jace (black skinny jeans and a violet sequined blazer with nothing underneath except a mosaic of tattoos). “I suppose you two will be wanting to share a room. Well, it ain’t my place to pass judgement, I reckon. But I don’t want to overhear nothing that couldn’t be done in church.”

Jace is confused. “Huh…?”

“No, Daddy, they’re not gay.”

“What, me?!” Aegon exclaims. “Gay?! For Jace?!”

Jace says: “Sir, if I ever start looking at Aegon that way, I give you enthusiastic permission to take me out back and shoot me dead like a horse with a bum leg.”

Your dad guffaws, a deep gruff rumble like an earthquake. “I don’t think I could oblige you, buddy.”

Your mom gestures to the front door. “Y’all go on in and make yourselves at home. We got a few extra bedrooms and a nice big den if anyone’s willing to sleep on a couch. But be warned: you’ll probably end up having a dog or two snuggled up with you.”

“We are guests here!” Criston shouts at the band as they begin dragging their luggage inside, suitcase wheels bumping up the creaking wooden steps of the wraparound porch. “You will not humiliate me! You will not break things! You will not cause any problems whatsoever or you can stay at the Hilton with the security guys and I’ll have them handcuff you to a bed!”

“He will,” Aegon warns the others. “I’ve seen him do it before. To…um…somebody.” He disappears into the five-bedroom farmhouse: mint green paint, white accents, two rambling stories plus an attic and a cellar.

Criston waves to the security detail as the Escalades turn around in the driveway—stirring up dust like a parched cough of earth—and then head back towards Route 210, towards the light pollution and acclaimed barbeque joints of Kansas City. Now Aemond is standing by the barbed wire fence of the pasture and looking longingly at the black angus cattle grazing on tall swaths of windswept, green-gold switchgrass. Lone Jack, Carthage, and Kirksville are all bounding around him hoping to elicit praise and scratches. Tenny has taken a liking to Baela and follows her and Jace into the house. Belmont, still held captive by your dad, whines and struggles.

“Aemond, you can’t pet the cows,” you say. “They’re beef cattle. They spend most of their lives out in fields, they don’t get handled very often, they’re not used to people. They can be aggressive.”

He is disappointed. “Oh, okay.”

“You can pet the pigs though,” your dad says.

“Pigs?” Cregan perks up. “There are pigs?”

“Sure are. Well, they’re pigs now…come Thanksgiving, they’ll be hams! Hahaha. They’re right ‘round the back of the house. You’ll show ‘em, chickadee?”

You reply: “Yeah, Daddy. I’ll show them.”

As the rest of the band claims sleeping spots and unpacks their suitcases inside, you lead Cregan and Aemond—and Lone Jack, Carthage, and Kirksville, all blue speckled with random splatters of white markings like stray dabs of paint—to the pigs. They have a large, muddy enclosure surrounded by a wooden fence that stops at your waist; pigs, fortunately, cannot really jump. They immediately come trotting over to their visitors, tails swishing and snouts twitching, spewing a chorus of guttural oinks. Aemond leans down to pet them, beaming, then takes a Ziploc bag of raw cauliflower out of his jeans pocket and starts dropping pieces into the pigs’ gluttonous, slobbering, gaping mouths.

“Wow,” Cregan says. He’s grinning broadly, something that’s rare for him. He slips out his phone and starts taking pictures. “Iris is going to love this.”

On the second floor of the farmhouse, a window slides open. “Aemond!” Aegon calls. “I need help! It’s an emergency!”

“What’s your problem?” Aemond snaps.

“Tell Jace I need the bigger bedroom!”

“Please go away.”

“Aemond! Do not betray your favorite brother!”

“Hey!” comes Daeron’s muffled objection from inside.

“Aemond! Threaten to break Jace’s face again!”

Aemond exhales in a loud sigh and then makes for the house.

Still taking pig photos, Cregan glances over at your belly: ten weeks. Not enough to be properly showing, but enough that you can feel a difference, an extra inch here and there, a heaviness that settles in you like stones plinked in a jar. Your parents don’t know. Nobody knows but Aegon. “So,” Cregan says. “Have you told Aemond yet?”

Your attention jolts to him, a lightning strike, a surge of adrenaline. “What?”

“I remember what it looks like when someone’s trying to hide the fact that they’re pregnant.” He smirks. “And I remember that night at Club Camelot.”

People are going to start figuring it out eventually. Aemond is going to figure it out. “Do you think he’ll take it well?” you ask hopefully.

“No,” Cregan says.

In your chest, a sinking like dead weight: “Oh.”

“But he’ll probably come around to the idea eventually.”

After he’s said something unforgiveable. After he buries another knife in me, spilling blood and scraping marrow. You stare down into the pigpen, observing them root around for remnants of cauliflower and blink their awfully intelligent eyes, too clever for the fate they’ve been assigned.

Cregan lights a cigarette and puffs on it, taking advantage of a rare moment out of Criston’s line of sight. “When I first found out about Iris, I did not behave in a way that I would consider to be honorable. But fortunately, nature gives everyone time to adjust to these things. I had my head right by the time she was born. If I had to guess, I’d say it will be similar for Aemond. Then again…” He takes a deep, meditative drag. “I’d like to think I was never as fucked up as he is now.”

You study Cregan. “So you’ve been watching me. I’ve been watching you too. You haven’t been partying as hard. A few vodka shots, a secret cigarette on occasion. But no more disappearing with Aegon to do lines in the bathroom or arranging drop-offs with drug dealers.”

He shrugs. “Someone has to be the adult. Someone has to help Criston look out for the others. It used to be Aemond, but not anymore. He’s different now. One day he’ll figure out where he’s supposed to be and he’ll stop touring with Comet altogether. So I’m going to do it. There are people who need me.”

“Comet is your family,” you say. “Just as much as your mother and siblings and Iris. They love you. They belong to you, and you belong to them. And that will never change.”

He smiles; his greyish eyes are teasing but kind. “Good luck, Stargirl. You need it.”

“Thanks, Cregan.” And together, you leave the pigs and join the rest of the band inside.

Your parents’ farmhouse, the same one you grew up in—a different world, a different you—is painted in shades of gold: late-afternoon sunlight, chicken thighs and drumsticks browning in canola oil, mashed potatoes wet with cream and butter, corn cut from the cob, an enormous pan of baked macaroni and cheese, homemade rolls, a butterscotch pie cooling on the windowsill. You find a vegan alternative for Aemond in the pantry: a box of Barilla spaghetti, a jar of Ragu marinara sauce. Criston insists on cooking it so everyone else can enjoy their supper. Cregan asks your parents about tips for raising pigs; Rhaena asks about the history of the farm; Aegon eats butterscotch pie until he has to roll out of his chair and lie sprawled on the hardwood floor for a while, Australian cattle dogs licking at his pink palms and cheeks. And when Aemond finally receives his spaghetti and marinara sauce, you think: That’s the same thing he was eating in Rome. And you remember the razored sting of the comet tattoo, the nightscape motorcycle ride, the incomplete truth about Aegon, the realization of what you felt for his scarred, perfect, brilliant, haunted younger brother.

“I didn’t know the weather would be so nice here,” Baela says as she scoops herself a third helping of macaroni and cheese. Tenny lies by her feet under the table, her muzzle resting on her paws.

Your dad nods, but his words hold a warning. “It can turn quick.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“He could be a stay-at-home dad,” Aegon suggests. It’s the next day and you’re up in a hundred-year-old white oak tree, killing time until the Escalades arrive to shuttle Comet to soundcheck and their first of two shows at Arrowhead Stadium in downtown Kansas City. You’re sitting on a colossal, sturdy branch only four or five feet off the ground, your feet dangling; Aegon is a few limbs above you, alternating between swinging like a monkey and lying on his stomach so he can peer down at you with those large, oceanic eyes.

“No. If he chooses to, sure. But not because he has no other options. A baby is not something to paper over a quarter-life crisis with.”

Aegon thinks, then is struck with inspiration. “He could work for your dad on the farm!”

“The beef cattle farm?” you say. “You want the traumatized vegan to spend the rest of his life as a cog in the blood-drenched machine of American industrial agriculture? Besides, I’m sure he hates Missouri.”

“I don’t know, I mean I thought I hated Missouri too. But lowkey it kind of slaps.” Aegon closes his eyes and smiles as the warm, sunlit breeze breathes through him, tousling his hair. It’s long again, it’s almost down to his shoulders. He smells like sunscreen and Axe body spray and the homemade waffles your mother made for brunch, soggy with dollops of butter and a river of amber-colored maple syrup. Something’s missing. It takes you a moment to realize it’s the scent of beer. Your parents don’t approve of drinking, the house is bone dry. Aegon hasn’t complained about that yet, a miracle, Moses turning the Nile to blood. Maybe Missouri is good for him after all. “How’s Starbaby?”

“Good, I think. I’m not nauseous anymore. Now I’m just super hungry and horny.”

“Oh my God, you can’t say stuff like that around me, now I’m having immoral thoughts.” He squeezes his eyes shut, frowns mournfully. Goodbye forever, pornstar pussy. “When are you going to tell Aemond?”

“Soon,” you say noncommittally, like a coward. Not a coward: someone who’s been hurt before. Not just hurt: slaughtered, buried, exhumed, robbed for the jewels on the bones of her fingers. You’re finally whole again. You’re in no hurry to imperil your resurrection. “Cregan knows.”

“Rhaena knows too.”

“What?!”

“She asked me in Dallas, but she waited until I was sloppy drunk first. Smart girl. I tried to deny it, but honestly she already had it figured out.” Aegon looks at you meaningfully. “If you wait much longer you’re going to lose control of this thing. It’ll get to Aemond before you can. And I think it will be worse if he finds out from somebody else.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’ll tell him, Aegon, I promise. Before Comet flies out of Kansas City.” They’ll be leaving you here, though no one except Aegon and Criston know that yet. Their private jet will take them to New Orleans, and then Miami, and then all the way to South America: Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paulo, Bogota, Buenos Ares, Lima, Santiago.

Now someone is trekking across the field behind your parents’ house and towards the centenarian white oak tree. It’s Jace. He’s wearing a rather understated outfit today: a lavender polo, denim shorts, boat shoes. His dark curls whip and tangle in the wind.

“Ugh,” Aegon says once Jace close enough to hear. “Why don’t you go try to pet a rage-filled, 2,000-pound mound of unprocessed cheeseburgers?”

“I’m here for my complimentary therapy session.”

Aegon stares at you. You stare back. The only sounds are made by the earth and the sky and the animals, air in the leaves, the low mooing of cattle. You both wait for Jace to rescind his request. He does not. At last, you relent. “Okay. Fine. Aegon?”

“You want me to leave you alone with this inked-up ogre?”

“Confidentiality is important. I’ve always given it to you, Jace deserves the same.”

“Does he really?” Aegon flings back; but he obediently climbs down from the tree and walks to the farmhouse. Your parents have no booze, no internet, a landline telephone, and a single tv with basic cable. Everyone else is in there playing Uno, doing animal-themed puzzles, and baking apple cider cookies in honor of the first day of autumn. You’d think Comet would be losing their minds after adapting to months of nonstop, breakneck excitement, but they seem to be enjoying themselves. You feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. You don’t miss the jet, you don’t miss the bars or the five-star hotels, you don’t even miss your apartment in the city that is still being sublet by some grad student with a Flemish Giant rabbit. You wonder if you ever wanted to leave the farm at all, or if you only wanted to leave the way you felt about yourself the last time you called this place home.

Jace grins and hauls himself up onto the tree branch to sit beside you. “Want to see my new tattoo?”

“Comet has definitely already been to Kansas City.”

Still, he’s acquired one, left wrist, black ink: a single star the size of a quarter. “For you, Stargirl. So I don’t forget about you. So I don’t lose you in the sea of gorgeous women I have marooned myself in.”

“It looks like a pentagram,” you say. “That’s appropriate, since you’re basically Satan.”

He’s not offended. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want to talk about?”

“I already know.”

“Do you really?”

“You’re happy, but you feel bad about it. You wanted to be the leader of Comet, but you wish it could have happened a different way.”

Jace opens his hands and offers you a crooked, wry smile. “I might jibe at Aemond, but I don’t hate him. Why else would I let him knock out four of my teeth without expecting any penance in return?”

“No, you certainly don’t hate Aemond.”

“And what happened to him…it sucks. I mean, obviously, it was life-ruining for him. Not ruining, I shouldn’t say that. I’m sure he’ll get a new life someday. But it wrecked him in ways I’ll never be able to understand.”

“You’ll have to let him go when the time comes.”

“Yeah,” Jace says, unusually somber, gazing out across the field of white wild indigo, prairie dropseed, blue star, yarrow.

“And if Baela gets into ballet school, you’ll have to let her go too.”

Now Jace turns to you, startled. “I can’t. I’d miss her.”

“Yes, but you aren’t right for her. Sometimes we have to give people the freedom to realize they want something more than us. It’s the greatest act of love we can do for them.”

He laughs, a disdainful little snort. “That’s what everyone says. If you love someone, let them go. But then nobody ever really does it. They cling and they manipulate and they beg. Nobody helps the people they love leave them. Nobody escapes the indignity of becoming a regret.”

Please don’t let that be true. Please don’t let Aemond regret meeting me, touching me, maybe even loving me. “Why do you think that is, Jace?”

And he says, like it’s obvious, like you should already know it: “Because letting go is too fucking painful.” He hops off the branch and drops into the tall grass below. Then he extends a hand to help you down. “Come on. I bet those apple cider cookies are ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You see glimmering dresses, incandescent string lights, neon signs, the winding reptilian sheen of the Missouri River in the distance, faint dots of stars muted by the city’s synthetic luminance. You taste your faux Bramble: ice, cranberry juice, a sliver of lemon on the rim, sweet and tart and cold. The speakers are thumping out Prayin’ For Daylight by Rascal Flatts. Aegon is in neon yellow. You almost wore the same, but the flowing yellow gown you bought in Reykjavik suffered an unfortunate Australian-cattle-dog-related incident before Comet left your parents’ farmhouse for the concert. You opted for the short sparkly black dress embroidered with silver stars instead…and hurried out the door before your parents could catch a glimpse of your comet tattoo.

“No way!” Baela cries as she checks her phone. “Look, look!” Liam Payne has just posted a selfie on Instagram. Cuddled up next to him on a beach in Ibiza is Shelby, tan and with her long blond waves flying everywhere. The comments are a smorgasbord: Cutest couple EVER! Aww, did you and Aemond break up again :( Enjoy your vacay, girlie! Guess love really can’t conquer all. You are stunning, Shelby! I’m still hoping you guys get back together. You deserve better! What is Aemond even doing these days?? Is this why Comet took A Girl Named After A Car off their tour setlist :(((

“Damn, poor Liam,” Daeron says. “Should we warn him?”

Aegon replies: “Bruh, this is so tragic. That dude has enough demons already.”

“Good luck, Liam,” Luke says, toasting his Mai Tai against Aemond’s fully-alcoholic Bramble. “Thoughts and prayers.”

“Maybe he’s dumb enough to sign up to be her boy band baby daddy,” Aemond quips. You and Aegon exchange an uneasy glance. Then Aegon gets an incoming FaceTime call. It’s Taylor Swift. He beams—he lights up, he glows—and rushes away to find a quiet spot where he can talk to her. Criston chases after him, extra vigilant since Aegon’s overdose in Las Vegas.

You gulp down the rest of your not-cocktail cocktail. The bartender calls over: “Another cranberry juice, ma’am?”

“Cranberry juice?!” Daeron says. “That sounds…healthy?”

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Baela asks you. It would be a rude question if you didn’t know each other so well. Though not quite as well as she thinks. Cregan and Rhaena peer awkwardly down into their glasses, eyebrows raised.

“Because. Um.” You hesitate. Aemond looks over at you curiously. “I’m an alcoholic.”

Baela blinks. “You’re what?”

“Um. I was developing an alcohol problem so to be safe I stopped drinking altogether.”

“How mature of you!” Rhaena chirps, then drags Baela towards the dancefloor. Luke and Jace go with them. Daeron and Cregan depart to charm some potential paramours: a flock of Kansas City University students for Daeron, a bachelorette party of flattered, giggly soccer moms for Cregan. You procure another cranberry juice from the bar and then return to Aemond. You are alone together, a strange combination of adjectives: solitary, secretive, appreciated, known. You migrate towards the edge of the roof and sip your matching drinks, wearing your matching black clothes, wind in your hair and the sounds of late night traffic on the streets below.

“So this is the place,” Aemond says, playful, wistful. “Where you and Aegon…met.”

“It feels so different now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look out over the city, breathing in humid night air and a verdant, ancient wildness. “You know how when you’re a kid, you’ll go somewhere and it feels endless and magical, and then you go back five or ten or fifteen years later and you’re disappointed? Like, that’s it? Is this even the same place?”

He swigs his Bramble. Ice clinks; the glass is frosty in his hand. “I know what you mean. But it hasn’t been that long. A little over a year.”

“I guess I’ve changed.” More grounded. Less restless. Less aimless. More pregnant.

“I hope Comet hasn’t traumatized you.”

You laugh, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only two people at this rooftop bar, in this city, on this planet: one river blue eye, one pool of sightless otherworldly mist. He hasn’t worn sunglasses since Shelby’s deportation from the band’s retinue. “Not yet.”

He is mischievous. “There’s still time.”

Not much of it. Aemond’s iPhone rings, Mr. Brightside. He checks it. “Is that Shelby offering you ten thousand blowjobs if you take her back?”

Aemond smiles. “No. It’s Helaena.” He answers and puts it on speakerphone. “Hi, LaeLae. Can I call you tomorrow? I’m at a very loud, very crowded rooftop bar.”

“With her?” Helaena asks, delighted.

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay. Call tomorrow. I wanted to tell you about the praying mantis I found in the garden. Check the weather. Goodbye!” She hangs up before Aemond can.

“Weather…?” he muses, then shakes his head and slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans. He returns his attention to you. “Ten thousand blowjobs, huh? I think I’d rather have another ten minutes in a bar bathroom.”

You are so game. It’s humiliating how game you are. Dear Starbaby, today I had slutty bar bathroom sex with your slutty dad, the same place I hooked up with your super slutty uncle. “Really?”

“No,” Aemond says sheepishly. But the corners of his lips are curled up in fond nostalgia. “That’s not my usual style.”

“What is your style?”

He drains his Bramble and turns to you. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You want few things more. “Yeah.”

You leave your empty glasses on a tray by the edge of the roof. Aemond lets Criston know that you’re taking one of the Escalades back to the farm. Aegon pauses his conversation with Taylor Swift just long enough to wink at you. No need for condoms, he mouths with a grin. And then he shouts, as the opening notes of Starboy blare from the speakers: “Stargirl, it’s our song!”

The Escalade makes one pitstop: the Walmart just off Route 210, the same one you always shopped at growing up. Aemond piles the requisite ingredients for vegan chocolate chip cookies in the screechy-wheeled cart, flour, baking soda, salt, white sugar, brown sugar, dark chocolate chips, rice milk (Aemond swears it tastes like Rice Krispies), vanilla extract, coconut oil. You wander down the aisles together talking, joking, finding excuses to touch each other, hands on wrists and collarbones and waists.

As you scan the items at one of the self-checkout kiosks, two guys buying frozen pizzas and White Claws peek over at you and start snickering. You grab snippets of their conversation like fireflies from the air: critiques of your body, critiques of your soul. You ignore them. This happens sometimes when you’re home. Someone from high school will recognize you, someone will remember.

Aemond is staring at them. Not staring; glaring, seething, mentally splitting flesh and dislodging teeth.

“Aemond, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m not upset. Just ignore them.” He walks away from you. “Aemond, don’t!”

He grabs the closest man’s shoulder and spins him around. “You got a problem?”

Both men gawk up at him, mouths hanging stupidly open and eyes inane like fish. The one he’s clenching sputters: “I’m sorry, are you…are you…are you Aemond Targaryen?!”

“I’m the guy who’s about to go to prison for second degree murder if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

He puts both hands in the air. “Hey man, I am actively shutting the fuck up. You have a nice evening.”

Aemond releases the man with a shove that sends him staggering back into a rack of tabloids. He returns to you, puts the bags in the cart, starts pushing it out to the parking lot.

The man turns to his friend. He is starstruck, elated. It might be the best day of his life. “Bruh, I just got assaulted by Aemond Targaryen…!”

The Escalade glides through the dark to your parents’ farm and drops you and Aemond off in the dirt driveway before zooming back towards the city. Aemond insists on carrying the shopping bags…but he doesn’t go inside. He stands near where his Gold Star is parked and gazes up at the night sky: moon, stars, the hazy white shadow of the Milky Way, all unmarred by the arrogant, buzzing radiance of electricity.

“Aemond?”

“You can see everything out here,” he says. “Maybe Kansas isn’t so bad.”

“Missouri.”

“Missouri,” Aemond agrees. “But you’re still the best thing about it.”

You smile. “I don’t know the names of any of those constellations.”

He points to show you. “Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. Perseus. Draco. Hercules.”

“Heroes,” you say.

“And animals.” He ascends the steps of the front porch. They creak beneath him, weight that will soon be gone, to New Orleans and Miami and South America and God knows where else.

Your parents are watching the 11:00 news in the den. The weatherman is issuing tentative warnings for tomorrow. Summer is gone, storms are coming in. They politely ask what you and Aemond are up to and then try not to look repulsed when you mention vegan cookies. You’re actually pretty excited; you love cookie dough, and because it will have no raw eggs in it, you can eat as much as you like without endangering Starbaby.

On the kitchen counter is the same CD player that your mom has owned since 2008. You press play on whatever she has currently spinning around in there. MercyMe? TobyMac? Danny Gokey? What you hear instead is Crush by David Archuleta.

“That’s a throwback,” Aemond notes.

“My parents love David Archuleta. He’s Christian, he’s cute, he’s gracious, he doesn’t swear. I remember them incessantly calling in to vote for him when he was on American Idol. They put in a prayer request at church to help him win the competition. I guess God used his executive veto power.”

“Do they know he’s…?” Aemond draws an invisible rainbow in the air with his fingers.

“No, they don’t use Google.”

“We won’t tell them. He needs the record sales.”

You and Aemond mix the cookie dough and then portion it out on a baking sheet. He slides the sheet into the oven, sets the timer, and then notices the reserve of dough you’ve left in the bowl. You dip your pinky finger in and then lick it slowly, savoringly: sweetness, chocolate, fats obtained without the sacrifice of a soul.

“Looks good,” Aemond says, a little hoarsely.

You swipe your index finger around the curve of the bowl and then offer it to Aemond. He holds your hand still and licks your finger clean, his tongue dragging over your skin, goosebumps rising on your arms, heat stirring up everywhere. You’re transfixed by him; you can’t stop watching. Then he closes the gap between you and cups your face in his palms and kisses you, not in some glittering city or on a stage or for an Instagram post but in the kitchen of a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, the home of nobodies. His lips are sweet, swift, seeking more. He only pulls away when the noise of heavy footsteps approaches the kitchen.

“Smells great in here, chickadee! Even if they are vegan cookies.” Your dad says the word vegan like someone else might say the name of a tourist destination halfway across the globe. He can’t quite get the pronunciation right. His eyes snag on the bare skin between your shoulder blades. “Lord almighty, what is that on your back?!”

Your comet tattoo, that’s what. “Uh, Daddy—”

“It was my idea,” Aemond says quickly, seamlessly. “They’re my lyrics. Lyrics I wrote before the accident, I mean. And I was feeling just…purposeless, and useless, and really doubting myself. She wanted to show me that my work still mattered. So when the band was in Rome, Jace got a tattoo and I suggested she get one too. It’s entirely my fault.”

“Huh,” your dad replies uncertainly. “Is that right? Well, I suppose there’s not much to be done about it now.” He chuckles and moves your hair so it’s covering your tattoo. “Let’s not mention it to your mother. She’s already got high blood pressure. Say, can I try one of them cookies when they’re ready?”

Criston and the rest of the band arrive back at the farmhouse just as the cookies are coming out of the oven. Miraculously, no one is drunk enough that your parents are aware of it. Everyone samples the vegan chocolate chip cookies and agrees that they are nearly as delicious as the cruelty-enhanced version. You and Aemond watch each other from across the kitchen that’s now crowded with people, hearing them but also not, wanting more and knowing you can’t have it, here in this place with little privacy and very few remaining secrets.

Comet scrambles to get ready for bed, racing to claim bathrooms and banging on doors to peer pressure people into finishing their showers faster. Back in your bedroom, clean and alone and wearing an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants, you rearrange your pillows over and over again and try not to think about the band leaving in two days. Strangely, you don’t really want to go with them; you don’t want to board the jet, you don’t want to sightsee, you don’t want to be surrounded by people ingesting poison in all its forms. But the thought of being away from the band—from Aegon, from Aemond—is impossible, unbelievable, horrifying. You’re humming something as you crawl into bed. You don’t even realize what song it is until you’re under the covers and sinking into sleep: The Man Who Can’t Be Moved.

You’re only asleep for ten or fifteen minutes. When you wake your eyes are watery and you can’t remember your dream—you almost never can—but you know that Aemond was there. Now he’s here in your room as well. He’s gently stroking your cheeks, your forehead, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he’s murmuring, only a silhouette in the darkness. But you would recognize him anywhere. “You had a nightmare. You were crying, I heard you.”

“Were you lurking outside my door or what?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he asks: “What were you dreaming about?”

“You.”

And when you reach for him, he meets you without hesitation, his hands in your hair and his lips on yours, blankets thrown aside, his weight between your thighs, your fingertips ghosting against his face, reading his past and future like braille. He bites your lower lip, nips at the curve of your jaw, kisses a path down your throat like the contrail of an airplane. You yank off his t-shirt. He lifts away yours. He’s touching you everywhere, fingers beneath your pajama pants, smothering his moans against your neck so no one else will hear.

He whispers breathlessly: “I don’t want to rush this time.”

“I’m yours for as long as you want me.” Forever, I hope. And then: “Can I turn on the light? I want to see you.”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. And then he reaches out to click the lamp on. The nightstand is cluttered with your souvenirs: refrigerator magnets, snow globes, figurines, cosmetics, snacks, crochet celestial objects, the frisbee from New Jersey, your plushie sika deer nestled together with the hammerhead shark from the aquarium at the Mandalay Bay. In the weak golden lamplight, you study Aemond like a painting, a marble statue, a comet you’ll only see once in a lifetime.

You say, softly like a prayer if you believed in such things: “You are so fucking beautiful.”

He doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to see you too. Your clothes are gone, every scrap of fabric and concealment; if he is cognizant of any minuscule changes in your body, he is not suspicious of them. Now he is bare for you as well, now he is pushing your thighs apart so he can marvel at you, taste you, drench his mouth and chin in your wetness, bring you to the edge of a cliff with no bottom, no rocks to rupture against. Now he is inside you, tremendously big but also careful, listening to you, watching every line of your face, slowly, so exquisitely slowly, his tongue darting between your lips and his palm against your cheek. And you remember how Aegon felt—always so simple and yet transient, soothing and welcome but never necessary—and Aemond could not be further from that. Nothing about what you have with him is simple. It is profound and intense and singular, and the thought of it not lasting forever is agony.

Afterwards, he retrieves his vintage metal lighter—small, square, Targaryen etched into one side—and a shimmery gold pack of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes out of the pocket of his pajama pants that are crumpled on the floor. He lies on his back and takes deep, drowsy drags, smoke like opaque morning mist in the air, one arm draped across you as you rest your head on his chest, lungs and heart and bones and blood.

Secondhand smoke isn’t good for the baby. You get up out of bed and sneak across the treacherously creaky hardwood floor. “Let me open a window.”

“So your parents won’t know?”

“Yeah.” You push the window open and then turn to him. “You should stop smoking. It’s really bad for you.”

Aemond smiles faintly. “Why would I care about that?”

“It’s bad for the people who love you too.”

He looks at you for what feels like a very long time. “Come back,” he says at last.

You do: to Aemond, to his warmth and lust and tenderness, to the space he occupies that will soon be empty like the vast expanses between comets, between stars.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I would like to say something.” You rise from your seat at your parents’ long dining room table, perfect for hosting judgmental-church-people gatherings and family reunions. Lunch for Comet Donati is steak and baked potatoes, lovingly prepared by your mom just before she and your dad left in their Ford F-150. It’s Sunday, and your parents will be at church socializing with their friends until late afternoon. Aemond is suffering through another meal of boxed spaghetti and Ragu marinara sauce. He doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite; not for food, anyway. You take turns glancing at each other and then looking away, smiling, flushing. Now he is intrigued by your announcement. His brow knits into thoughtful little grooves. The Australian cattle dogs scuttle around under the table for scraps. The television is on in the den. A tornado watch has been issued for the greater Kansas City area; no big deal, they get alerts like this once or twice a week here sometimes. It rarely amounts to carnage. Outside the sky is a tumultuous grey but not especially sinister at the moment: no greenish hue, no cloud rotation.

“You agree that Aegon hooking up with Taylor Swift would be disastrous for everyone involved,” Jace jokes.

“No, I know what it is,” Aegon says. He pokes at his baked potato with his fork, melancholy.

“I want to thank you for giving me this amazing opportunity,” you tell Comet. You have perhaps not dressed for an occasion of this significance: flip flops, a tie-dye One Direction hoodie, an old pair of shorts you found in your bedroom dresser. You like the way Aemond watches you when you wear them. “And I’ve experienced so many things, and learned so much from all of you, and I sincerely hope that we’re going to be in each other’s lives forever. But for right now…for this tour…Kansas City is my last stop with Comet.”

“What?!” Baela cries.

“No!” Rhaena gasps, her dark doe-like eyes glistening.

People are asking you why, people are asking you to reconsider. Aemond only stares, a sharp hostile look, menacing like storm clouds.

“I really, really appreciate everyone’s concern. But it’s been over three months, and this was never intended to be a permanent arrangement. Right, Aegon?”

“Right,” he reluctantly agrees.

“And it’s time for me to figure out what the rest of my life is going to look like, because I can’t just follow Comet around the world forever.”

Cregan nods to Criston. “Did you know about this?”

“I did, yeah,” Criston confesses. “We finished up the paperwork last week.”

“But we’re going to miss you,” Baela says. She sounds shockingly close to tears. Jace tries to soothe her and she shrugs his hand away.

“I know,” you concede. “And I’m going to miss you too. But we’ll still talk all the time, and I’m always willing to help you guys with anything, and maybe in the future I can visit—”

Aemond stands, his chair squealing against the hardwood floor, and flees from the dining room.

“That went well,” Jace says.

Aegon points towards the doorway Aemond left through and asks you: “Do you want me to…?”

“No, I’ll do it,” you say, and go after Aemond. He’s outside by the pigpen, his hair and t-shirt whipping wildly in the strengthening gusts of late-September air. Sparse raindrops fall from the sky. The pigs are agitated, pacing, oinking, scampering in and out of the shed they have for shelter. Aemond is smoking, embers glowing on the end of his cigarette; you purposefully stand upwind from him.

His voice is stunned and dazed and beneath that dangerously angry. “You’re leaving the tour.”

“Yes.”

“When we get on that jet tomorrow, you’re not going with us.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And you told Aegon and Criston but you didn’t tell me.”

“I had to tell Criston. And Aegon…” What can I say? What is the truth? “Aegon is easier to talk to about things like this.”

“So you feel like you can’t talk to me?” Aemond demands.

“Well, yeah, because sometimes you’re kind and patient and the single most incredible man I’ve ever met, and then something rattles your demons awake and you’re this…this…this vengeful, mistrustful, irrationally insecure person, and I can’t do anything right because you’ve already decided what my intentions are.”

“I want you to stay with Comet,” he says suddenly.

“I can’t, Aemond.”

“In Tokyo you asked me what I want, so now I’m telling you. I want you to stay.”

“Why, so you can sometimes love me and sometimes hate me, and refuse to build a new life for yourself, and relive what happened at the Budokan over and over and over again because that’s the background noise of everything you do now? Why?”

He gestures vaguely. “So we can figure things out.”

“I’m figured out, Aemond! You’re the one who isn’t and I can’t help you anymore, you have to do it for yourself, you have to want it!”

“You’ve never wanted to stay with me. You’re a liar, you’re a user. I’m glad Comet could fill that gap in your resume.” He takes a forceful drag and exhales smoke that the wind snatches away. “All you do is keep things from me.”

Venomous, violent disappointment blooms dark and scarlet in your veins. “You have no idea how much I’ve kept from you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You watch him, mourn him, commit him to memory for when you can’t see him anymore, every thread of him, miraculous and doomed. Saint Jude, you think, a man your parents as good Southern Baptists do not pray to. You tell Aemond: “You’re a lost cause.”

“And you’re a nobody.”

You turn away from him like ripping a page in two. You don’t want anyone to see the tears welling up in your eyes, escaping down your cheeks, marking you as someone who was weak enough to believe you could save him. You know that’s not the way it works, you know people have to be willing to accept the truths you help them uncover like prehistoric bones. Still, you believed in him. Why? Why?

Because I wanted to. Because I love him.

Your flip flops pound against the soil of the driveway, raindrops leaving spots like freckles, dust flying everywhere. You swipe at the tears that blur your vision. When you are far enough away that nobody can see you from the farmhouse, you rest your trembling hands on your belly. The life in progress there is half-built of Aemond, you carry pieces of him around with you like coins jangling in you pocket. You can’t forget him. You can’t forgive him. It shouldn’t be possible to be so close to somebody and yet so far away.

There’s no one out on Route 210. Your flip flops cross from a dirt road to black pavement. You lose track of how long you’ve been walking. Five minutes, ten minutes, it doesn’t matter. What are minutes when your mind is years away?

How will I keep Aegon in my life without tabloids finding out about the baby? What will I tell my child when they ask who their father is?

A vicious wind, so strong it snaps branches from trees and almost knocks you over. And then you hear it, that sound that every inhabitant of the Lower Midwest knows: a deep rumbling like a train. You peer up into a sky that is dark and murderous and glowing a strange sickly green. And above your head, spiraling with increasing speed: a funnel cloud, an emergent tornado.

~~~~~~~~~~

Criston is herding everyone towards the cellar, bellowing, waving frantically: Aegon, Luke, Rhaena, Jace, Baela, Cregan, Daeron, five yelping Australian cattle dogs. Through the window, they can see the tornado approaching the farmhouse, a column of shadowy atmospheric fury, unpredictable and unstoppable, here and then gone, the meteorological version of a comet.

Aemond slams the door as he sprints inside from the field behind the house. He breaths heavily, his chest heaving as his clear right eye studies the band’s panicked faces. “Where is she?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘where is she’?!” Aegon pitches back. “She was with you! She’s with you, right?!”

Aemond looks at Aegon, looks through the glass at the tornado, grabs the keys to his 1960 Gold Star off the dining room table.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re running, but you can’t see; there’s dust and debris everywhere, there are pieces of trees and fences careening through the air, when you breath you choke on airborne earth. The wind keeps pushing you off the road and then you have to fight your way back. You have to find your parents’ driveway. You have to get to the house. The sun is gone, and the roaring like a freight train is louder, louder, louder. And now there is another sound too, a different sort of growling, mechanical and familiar. Punching through the haze like a bullet, Aemond and his Gold Star screech to a stop beside you.

“Get on!” he screams over the storm, then helps drag you onto the seat behind him. You link your arms around his waist and then you’re flying together, just like Rome, just like before Reykjavik or Paris or Singapore or Tokyo or East Rutherford or Las Vegas or any of the other cities happened, back when you believed you could cure him like a witch with a spell, back when you wanted him in a way that was unburdened by truths you wish you didn’t know.

The Gold Star rockets by trees, utility poles, fence posts seconds before they are ripped from the ground by 200 miles per hour winds. Aemond steers roughly onto the dirt road of your parents’ driveway. You cling to him, breathing him in: smoke, cologne, memories, nightmares, dreams. In the rearview mirror is a maelstrom of dark, churning grey peppered with wreckage.

Something collides with the motorcycle, a fence post, a tree limb, you don’t know, it doesn’t matter. The Gold Star is knocked off the driveway like a bloodied tooth from a jaw. You sail off of it as it begins to roll; you hit the ground hard on your back, loose a pitiful wounded howl, try to start crawling towards the farmhouse.

“No, stay down, stay down!” Aemond is saying over the roar of the tornado. He covers you, he shields you, he pins you to the ground, he puts his hands over your eyes. The last thing you see is the Gold Star lying on its side a few yards away, its wheels still rotating. It’s over 400 pounds, too heavy for Aemond to lift even if you helped him, even if that couldn’t hurt the baby.

The baby?? Your own hands go to your belly. You try to ascertain if the heat throbbing in your back has traveled anywhere else, reached with blood-red, needle-sharp talons to your child, to your future.

The wind is letting up; is that your imagination? No, the tornado is receding, the debris fall to the earth, the deafening runaway train made of rogue air evaporates. Cautiously, Aemond rises from you. When you look at him, the right side of his face is riddled with shallow, bleeding gashes; but his eye is mercifully unharmed.

“Aemond,” you say, pained, reaching for him, trying to clean the blood from his face with your sleeves, a hoodie with some boy band on it, men you don’t know and don’t care to meet, fantasies that pale in comparison to the reality that stains you like rust.

“I’m fine, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so…”

They come stampeding down the driveway: Criston, the rest of Comet, the barking Australian cattle dogs.

“Oh my God, they’re alive!” Jace exclaims, and soon everyone is there, surrounding you and Aemond like a circle, a ring, an orbit, something that goes around and around and might fade but never ends.

You aren’t worried about the baby. There’s no cramping, no pain except the throbbing in the curve of your back, blood loosed and then trapped, indigo bruises tattooed under your skin like ink. You press your palms to the earth and brace yourself so you can stand. No one is helping you get up; why is no one helping you? Why are they only staring, gasping, covering their mouths with shaking hands?

“You’re bleeding,” Aemond says, a panicked voice through fog. Slowly, like trying to run in a dream, you look down. There are thin rivulets of scarlet snaking their way down your thighs, calves, shins, ankles, painless ruinous tributaries, constellations unraveling until the patterns cease to exist, no myths, no monsters, no men, just senseless pinpricks of distant light you’ll never know the names of.

“No,” you whisper, like you can stop it from happening if you refuse to believe it, like it’s a mistake you can talk yourself out of. You gaze up at Aegon. Knowledge flies between you, something shared like an heirloom or an oath.

“Call an ambulance,” Aegon says to Cregan. “Tell them that she’s…” His eyes dart to Aemond and then back to you. “Tell them to hurry.”

Aemond is holding you, he is touching your face, he is asking: “Are you cut, do you need stitches—?”

“I’m alright, it’s nothing, it’s—”

“What are you talking about?! It’s not nothing, you’re bleeding, why are you bleeding?”

“Aemond, it’s nothing—”

“Tell me what to do, tell me how to help you!”

“It’s just…” And a sob breaks from your throat, and your words are brittle and splintering, and you can’t lie to him anymore. You’re out of time in so many ways. “It’s just the baby.”

[littlefaefeather]

Black Butler manga foods/drinks

I'm sure I missed some things, but it was all things that weren't really named or specified, or I couldn't tell with certainty what they were. @sebastian-ciel-mutual-bullying this is for you! feel free to take and use as you need o7 Book 1 breakfast: poached salmon and mint salad with toast, scones, and pain de campagne on the sides, ceylon tea horribly salty lemonade dinner: Japanese green tea, gyuutatakidon, Italian red wine, apricot and green tea mille-feuille dessert: orchard fruit cake with pears, plums, and blackberries dessert: deep-dish apple raisin pie milk

Book 2 assam tea afternoon tea: keemun and summer pudding of currants and other berries lunch: stuffed cabbage and minted potato salad chocolate earl grey afternoon tea: cornmeal cake of pears and blackberries salty rosehip herbal tea

Book 3 hot milk with honey or brandy peeled apple assam tea with milk oranges with shalimar tea steak and kidney pie and salmon sandwiches messy birthday cake and donburi strawberry-decorated birthday cake

Book 4 fish chai with ginger breakfast: shrimp curry and French toast with ginger mackerel with gooseberry sauce and cottage pie

Book 5 British-style Bengali chicken curry chicken curry afternoon snack: gateau au chocolat beef curry blue lobster with seven curries curry bun assam tea white darjeeling tea champagne sushi

Book 6 Christmas pudding cookies shaped like bones fish and chips, meat pies, bread

Book 7 rice porridge dinner: milk risotto with a three-mushroom medley, a pot-au-feu of pork and wine, and a warm apple compote with yogurt sauce

Book 8 oranges afternoon tea: chocolate macarons with fruits and three-berry shortcake

Book 9 custard cream puffs red wine white wine brunch: herring pie and spinach quiche dinner: curry, and chopped vegetables for an appetizer

Book 10 dinner: soybean hamburg steaks

Book 11 elevenses: darjeeling tea and petits fours tonkatsu, shougayaki, tonjiru, tonshabu, yakiton

Book 12 cake with strawberries on top

Book 13 spiny lobster saute, roast turkey, sticky toffee pudding, fairy cakes (cupcakes) warm milk with honey

Book 14 watered-down darjeeling tea darjeeling tea dinner: roast duck and gateau chocolat

Book 15 golden syrup sponge pudding tea cakes lemon myrtle souffle glace with milk tea

Book 16 lunch: beef mince pie

Book 17 dessert: strawberries, cream, and meringue (Eton mess) with a side of iced summer pudding

Book 18 chicken pie coffee and walnut cake

Book 19 ravioli (maultaschen) and wurst soup, stewed pork with herbs and spices (eisbein), and rote grutze (sour berries boiled and chilled to jelly, served with cream) evening snack: caramel macarons, coffee cream eclairs, dark chocolate florentines. black tea ceylon tea

Book 22 earl grey tea with orange almond cake and berry tarts

Book 23 smoked salmon sandesh (milk sweets)

Book 24 soft licorice candy apples

Book 25 berry-filled pudding fish and chips and steak and ale pie gulab jamun (fried balls of dough drenched in syrup)

Book 29 kidney pie, fish and chips, and ale wild-hare pie tapioca steak

Book 30 nilgiri tea breakfast: pea soup, meatballs, croissants, boiled egg, orange jelly chicken and steamed vegetable salad, oxtail stew, pain de campagne with butter oolong tea

Book 31 candy cigarettes

[raelyn-dreams]

Enstars Character's Favorite Foods

Eichi Tenshouin: Sauteed Veal

Wataru Hibiki: Jello

Tori Himemiya: Corn

Yuzuru Fushimi: White Fish

Hokuto Hidaka: Konpeito (Japanese sugar candy spheres)

Subaru Akehoshi: Fried Egg

Makoto Yuuki: Snacks (Pocky)

Mao Isara: Ramen

Chiaki Morisawa: French Fries

Kanata Shinkai: Soy Sauce

Tetora Nagumo: Kalbi (Korean barbecued beef ribs)

Midori Takamine: Pizza, Basil

Shinobu Sengoku: Umeboshi (Japanese pickled ume)

Hiiro Amagi: Lemon, Omurice (fried rice & egg with ketchup)

Aira Shiratori: Quiche, Chocolate

Mayoi Ayase: Grapes

Tatsumi Kazehaya: Black Tea (any kind)

Nagisa Ran: Chocolate

Hiyori Tomoe: Pie, Quiche (especially with salmon)

Ibara Saegusa: Nutritional Supplements

Jun Sazanami: Strawberries

Shu Itsuki: Croissants

Mika Kagehira: Candy

Hinata Aoi: Sweet Cream Puffs

Yuta Aoi: Tabasco Sauce

Rinne Amagi: Pizza

HiMERU: Cola, Breath Mints

Kohaku Oukawa: Japanese Sweets

Niki Shiina: Japanese Food

Rei Sakuma: Dry-Cured Ham (JP), Tomato Juice (CN)

Kaoru Hakaze: Pancakes with lots of cream (JP), Cream and Strawberry Crepes (CN)

Koga Oogami: Grilled Chicken (JP), Grilled Meat on a skewer (CN)

Adonis Otogari: Anpan (sweet roll with red bean paste)

Tomoya Mashiro: Omurice (fried rice & egg with ketchup)

Nazuna Nito: Ice Cream

Mitsuru Tenma: Hamburger Steak (JP), Hamburgers (CN)

Hajime Shino: Miso Soup (miso = fermented soybean paste)

Keito Hasumi: Spicy Foods (JP), Red Peppers (CN)

Kuro Kiryu: Steak

Souma Kanzaki: Sushi

Tsukasa Suou: Snacks

Leo Tsukinaga: Coffee

Izumi Sena: Shrimp

Ritsu Sakuma: Carbonated Drinks

Arashi Narukami: Chicken Karaage (bite-sized fried chicken)

Natsume Sakasaki: Foods with two different flavors

Tsumugi Aoba: Warm, Sweet Foods (like fresh pancakes and anman, steamed buns with red bean paste)

Sora Harukawa: Snacks, Apples

Madara Mikejima: Soba (Japanese noodles), Onigiri (rice balls with a variety of fillings)

[flawediamond]

🇰🇷 Korean Recipes Masterpost

Bindaetteok (Mung Bean and Pork Pancakes)

Bulgogi (Korean BBQ Beef)

Chamchi Kimichi Jjigae (Tuna Kimichi Stew)

Chappsal (Sweet Potato and Rice Ball Donuts)

Dak Bulgogi (Korean BBQ Chicken)

Danpatjuk (Red Bean Soup)

Dakdoritang (Spicy Chicken Stew)

Dakgalbi (Spicy Chicken Stir Fry)

Dakgangjeong (Chicken Nuggets)

Doenjang (Fermented Soybean Paste)

Doenjang Jjigae (Soybean Paste Stew)

Gamja Bokkeum (Stir Fried Potato with Soy Sauce)

Ganjang (Sweet Soy Sauce)

Gochujang (Fermented Chili Paste)

Guk Ganjang (Soup Soy Sauce)

Gyeran Mari (Rolled Omelette)

Heoni Beoteo Chikin (Honey Butter Fried Chicken)

Hobak Kimichi (Fermented Squash)

Hobakjuk (Pumpkin Porridge)

Jajangmyeon (Black Soybean Paste Noodles)

Japchae (Stir Fried Sweet Potato Starch Noodles)

Jeyuk Bokkeum (Spicy Korean BBQ Pork)

Jjamppong (Seafood Noodle Soup)

Kimichi (Fermented Napa Cabbage)

Kimchijeon (Kimichi Pancake)

Kimchi Bokkeumbap (Kimichi Fried Rice)

Kimichi Jjigae (Kimichi and Pork Stew)

Kimichi Jjim (Braised Kimichi and Pork Ribs)

Maesil Cha (Plum Tea)

Maesil Ju (Plum Wine)

Mandu (Dumplings)

Makgeolli (Rice Liqueur)

Mayak (Pickled Eggs)

Myulchi Kimchi Jjigae (Anchovy Kimichi Stew)

Pajeon (Seafood Scallion Pancake)

Samgyupsal (Korean BBQ Pork Belly)

Sangtugwaja (White Bean Paste Cookies)

Sulppang (Rice Liqueur Sweetbread)

Sundubu Jjigae (Kimichi, Tofu and Pork Stew)

Sundubu Jjigae (Kimichi, Tofu and Seafood Stew)

Tangsuyuk (Bittersweet Beef or Pork)

Tongmaneul Jangajji (Garlic Pickles)

Tteokbokki (Spicy Rice Cakes)

Yukgaejang (Spicy Beef Vegetable Soup)

[spainkitty]

WIP WEDNESDAY

art by: itsadragon_art (Sabri) on ig

header made in LINEcamera

Chapter One: Valerius POV

Valerius let his gaze fall, the minutes ticking away in his mind as he let Nerva lead them further inward. She knew the way home. Although, he doubted they would make it farther than the outer markets they now walked sedately through.

This early only the most ambitious of merchants were already awake. A few stalls selling hot soybean milk or Riyukezu-style tea were raising their awnings and the vapors of their wares wafted over the street. The familiar aroma of sweet milk, roasted green tea, boiled corn, and tea-stewed eggs made Valerius’ stomach rumble. He had eaten sparsely, forcing down dry biscuits and drier jerky each day. It was enough not to starve, but not enough to truly satisfy. While most stalls catered to the tastes of the overwhelming Riyukezan majority, more than a handful were selling fare that was more readily found outside Riyushu. At one stall, the scent of spicy meat and corn masa reminded him so much of the meals he’d eaten the past few weeks—of Marya’s teary-eyed laughter and the frost on his lips from Arash’s tapping claw—that Valerius reined Nerva to a stop without conscious thought.

The vendor at the stall looked up from a large clay pot, steam pouring from the lifted lid like a newly erupted volcano. The man smiled and bowed the Riyukezan way, but greeted him in Mekshan, over-friendly and welcoming. Off-putting. But Valerius was already swinging down, his eyes on the neat rectangles wrapped in yellow corn husks and pressed close together, their tops open and the scent free. A sign proclaiming fresh tamales was painted directly onto the easily collapsible, moveable, clapboard stall.

“I’ve got meat and meatless, whatever you like, señor. And hot coffee, too,” the man said, waving towards a small kettle on an open-flame hob and a large sack full of glistening beans.

Valerius didn’t like heavy breakfasts. Coffee made his hands jitter. But he stared at the offerings, jaw tense and body unmoving. Silently, he reached for his pouch and took out the required tin coins and let them fall, one by one, into the man’s open palm. Dark eyes darted over Valerius’ face, and the Lance wondered what emotion he was seeing on the vendor’s face: confusion, amusement, or perhaps pity? The twist of the man’s lips and the rising of his eyebrows were baffling. The moment the man turned away and Valerius barely held back a sigh of relief.

“How about you get one of each, señor, and a cup of coffee? You’ve given me enough here for it. I’ll fix it up nice.”

“I.” Valerius stopped, lips pressing into a line as the man turned back. Dark skin, darker eyes, and a fringe of hair above the man’s upper lip that had curled up into a smile that seemed warm. Friendly with his voice. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“You got that Riyukezan look,” the man said, nodding slightly. “Why don’t you try it one more time? I’ve got a trick to it. I got Riyukezu coming back every day for a cup, you’ll see, señor.”

Just like Marya, never taking “no” for answer. Valerius’ lips twitched in an answering smile. After a tiny jerk of his chin down into a nod, the vendor picked up a can to pour in a generous amount of viscous white liquid that was too thick to be milk, then poured a ladle full of steaming black coffee into a mug. A powder too red and soft to be brown sugar followed. Valerius took the mug in a hand that completely dwarfed the small clay cup. It was sweeter than any coffee he’d ever tasted with a hint of spice that he finally recognized as cinnamon. Whatever face he seemed to be making had the vendor chuckling.

“Like I said, they come back every day,” he joked. “It’s sweet milk condensad.”

[philearning]

DISEASES OF FIELD AND HORTICULTURAL CROPS AND THEIR MANAGEMENT VOLUME–I : (AS PER ICAR FIFTH DEAN) by Dr. Bhupendra Singh Kharayat

The book covers symptoms, etiology, disease cycle and epidemiology, and management of major diseases of Field Crops, such as Rice, Maize, Sorghum, Bajra, Groundnut, Soybean, Pigeon pea, Finger millet, Black gram and Green gram, Castor, Tobacco and Horticultural Crops, such as Guava, Banana, Papaya, Pomegranate, Cruciferous vegetables, Brinjal, Tomato, Okra, Beans, Ginger, Colocasia, Coconut, Tea, and Coffee.

Visit our website to buy http://social.phindia.com/6Is-JCcP

Also available on #Amazon #Flipkart #GoogleBooks #Kindle

[carrotblr]

know u better tag

ty for tag @synobun uwu

Three Ships: dabi/hawks (edgy goth bastard vs cocky bastard), sakusa/atsumu (antisocial jerk vs dramatic dumbass), bokuto/akaashi (hyperactive jock vs weird introvert)

First Ship: i'll say victor/yuri (yuri on ice) because it's the anime that brought me to tumblr in 2017. but i think more than the character dynamics, at the time i was just really surprised and happy to see mlm handled so naturally in a sports anime

Last Song: tokio funka - reol

Last Movie: char's counterattack (or just the first 10 minutes of it lol)

Currently Reading: The Last Lambs by @tananaphone <3 it's really great honestly and Felysa is my fav!! shes gorgeous heh

Currently Watching: mob psycho 100, g-witch, chainsaw man, bocchi the rock

Currently Consuming: black soybean milk tea

Currently Craving: more g-witch episodes

Tagging: if you see this i've tagged you

[ihartkimchi]

Straight outta Japan~🌸 (pt. 1)

Guess who’s back?!!

I just arrived at my home country from my week long trip to Japan for my birthday!! So here’s some photo dump about my weeb adventures in Japan~

UNIVERSAL STUDIOS JAPAN~

This is definitely one of the first things I put in my vacation itinerary cause there’s no way I’m missing out on their JJK attraction!! 

This is like a 4D cinema ride where an original JJK story was animated just for it! There wasn’t any subtitles throughout the ride sadly but from what I got, it seems that there is going to be an Osaka branch of the Jujutsu school and there’s seem to be some foul play involved which prompted our main trio Yuji, Megumi and Nobara to investigate the sketchy principal.

The story is actually very interesting and there’s some potential for expansion so I’m thinking of including it in my fanfic, Plane of Absolution! Maybe in like a future arc where Makoto/Kamui gets to investigate it along with the main trio or something? Who knows! That’s still a long way to go since we’re barely in the beginning! 

And of course the merch!!

I managed to get Satoru’s popcorn holder but it was so expensive at ¥4,500! I wasn’t able to get Yuuji’s drink bottle or else I’d go over budget but it looked something like this.

It was a bit cheaper than the popcorn holder at ¥2,500 if I remember correctly but I’d go broke if I bought it lol so I settled with the one I got lol（┬┬＿┬┬）

Since JJK was one of their main attraction, there’s an exclusive merch store for it right next to the 4D theater!! I didn’t get to shop anything in it though since as always, theme park prices are insane! I can get better price deals in Akihabara!! ಥ‿ಥ

But anyways here are some pics inside it~

And of course the food!! There were tons of JJK themed food in USJ as well, there was the casual snack place and the other one was the Dining Hall where Gojo’s realistic life size statue is located!

Here’s the snack bar where you can buy light snacks and its located right across the cinema so it’s hard to miss.

And of course! The big daddy of them all- the Dining Hall!!

This one is a little further than where every other JJK attraction was located; it’s closer the the Spiderman ride, just a block away from it. I couldn’t even spot it tbh, it was so lowkey! I had to ask a staff where it was cause I was genuinely lost!

There’s actually a roleplaying going on here, it goes with how the customers are alumni’s of Jujutsu tech and is being welcomed by the students in the Dining Hall in a get-together arranged by Gojo-sensei!!

I wasn’t able to take pictures of the outside since I was so hungry already I just want to eat lol!!  o((*^▽^*))o

I’m ngl, the food was really expensive! Ranging from ¥3,000- ¥4000 yen, and that’s not even including the pictures with Gojo-sensei!! You are definitely paying for the experience! 

It was so expensive actually that my other family left to find cheaper food lol and since they weren’t really fans of JJK there was no point to eat here really. My rich aunt was the only one who stayed with me since she’s the one with the nice phone to help me take pics inside!

I ended up ordering this sushi set- according to the waiter Megumi cooked this for me!!  ٩(*•͈ ꇴ •͈*)و ̑̑❀

It cost around  ¥3,700 yen and according to the website my orders consists of :

Assorted Sushi (Sardine, Greater Amberjack, Sea Bream, Squid, Sweet Shrimp),Scallop and Lotus Root with Ginger-Kiwi Vinegar, Meatballs simmered with Ginger, Assorted Tempura (Pork & Julienned Ginger, Mochi, Shishito Pepper),White and Black Sesame Tofu, Black Soybeans with Cream Cheese, Seedless Grapes with Mashed Tofu, Roasted Green Onion with Green Pepper Miso, Grilled Turban in the Shell, and Miso Soup.

The meal is honestly delicious and definitely tasted expensive! Would I buy it again? No lol but it’s definitely a must experience if you are a fan of JJK!

My aunt ended up ordering the Yuji special as well as the Tapioca Lemonade Tea that came with a free random character coaster! She managed to get Gojo and decided to give it to me!!

I’m not sure which character was the drink for but on the other hand these are the menu for the Yuji special!

Tempura Rice Bowl (Conger Eel, Shrimp, Sillago, Pumpkin, Shishito Pepper, Maitake Mushroom, Red Pickled Ginger), Hot Somen Noodles, and Side Dishes (Beef Tongue with Yam, Pickled Radish with Tofu Paste)

Just quick note, but the Yuji meal was HUGE!! I was so surprised when the waitress came with the order! I guess it make sense since Yuji looks like the type to be a big eater >.<

Now to the main event of the Dining Hall- meeting Gojo-sensei!

There’s a life-size Gojo statue inside the dining hall which is the main reason why you want to eat there in the first place- esp with their expensive menu! The chance to meet Gojo-sensei!!

The statue was so realistic its kinda creepy >3< ! You can see its pores and I lowkey expect it to breathe lol~~

You can only enter the restaurant if you are buying a meal and it actually make sense why they are limiting the amount of people since the statue is fragile and you’re not even allowed to touch it!

The photos are really expensive guys! It at ¥2,500 yen for the set of 3 photos! The first 2 is your choice of the ready made Gojo pictures and the third one is your picture with him. And there’s only really 2 poses you can do with him since the people there don’t want you touching the statue- its either the pointing pose (which is the one picked) and the peace sign pose.

The staff there will allow you only 1 photo with your personal phone/camera but everything else, you have to purchase lol~

and of course the anya sticker for censorship lol, I don’t want to doxx myself! Σ(ﾟДﾟ；)

The photoset comes in a foldable photobook like this~

After paying for your meal at the cashier you can approach the lady there and inform her about your picture purchase. She will guide you with a tablet to help you pick which pictures you liked and the lady at the elevator will give you your photobook. They all speak conversational English as well, so definitely foreigner friendly!

After purchasing it, they will give you the receipt where you can claim a digital copy of your photos using a link to their website with an exclusive password listed on it. You have to claim the photos immediately though since it will only last a month in the USJ database and can only be claimed while your IN Japan, so foreign tourists really need to claim it immediately before they leave the country.

There are also other JJK attraction like the Hollywood Dream x JJK ride- there wasn’t really any JJK pictures there so I didn’t bother taking any but I did ride it! The ride has this gimmick of allowing the riders their option of music to listen to while riding the roller coaster and one of the songs there is Kaikai Kitan by Eve which is the OP for JJK!

It was so fun actually and definitely a great and energetic song to ride a roller coaster to!

Another attraction is the Jaws photo opportunity x JJK where you can choose a JJK frame to accompany your photo with the Jaws shark. I wasn’t really interested in it cause it was expensive af lol!!

If any of y’all want to experience this, y’all better hurry up since this attraction is only up until this July 2023!! 

Was it expensive? Yes. 

Was it worth the money? Hell yeah!

[eurosunglobal]

How India Dominates the Global Agricultural Export Market by Eurosun Global

India, with its vast agricultural landscape and diverse climatic conditions, has emerged as one of the largest players in the global agricultural export market. The country’s agricultural exports contribute significantly to its economy, making it a key supplier of essential commodities worldwide.

1. Agricultural Products Exporter from India: An Overview

India stands as a prominent agricultural products exporter from India, supplying a wide range of products to markets across the globe. The country’s agricultural sector is not only vital for domestic consumption but also serves as a major source of foreign exchange earnings. India’s agricultural exports are valued for their quality, quantity, and variety, encompassing everything from rice and spices to tea and fruits.

2. Key Factors Driving the Export of Agricultural Products from India

Several factors contribute to the success of the export of agriculture products from India. First, India’s diverse climate allows for the production of a variety of crops, ranging from tropical fruits to temperate grains. Second, government policies such as subsidies, export incentives, and trade agreements have played a significant role in boosting the country’s agricultural exports. Additionally, advancements in infrastructure, particularly in ports and logistics, have enabled smoother and faster transportation of goods.

3. Top 10 Agriculture Products Exporters: India’s Top Exports

India is the leader in the export of several agricultural products, and the top 10 agriculture products exporters include:

Rice: India is the world’s largest exporter of rice, especially Basmati rice, which is highly sought after for its quality and flavor.

Spices: Indian spices, including turmeric, black pepper, and cardamom, dominate the global market.

Fruits & Vegetables: Mangoes, bananas, and guavas are among the top fruit exports, while vegetables like onions and tomatoes also see strong demand.

Tea & Coffee: India is a key supplier of tea and coffee, particularly in the markets of the UK, Russia, and the Middle East.

Oilseeds & Pulses: India is known for producing and exporting large quantities of oilseeds and pulses, including groundnut, soybeans, and lentils.

Cotton: India is one of the world’s largest exporters of cotton, crucial for the global textile industry.

Sugar & Jaggery: India’s sugar industry is one of the largest in the world, with sugar and jaggery being important export commodities.

Flowers & Aromatic Plants: India exports a variety of flowers like marigolds and jasmine, along with aromatic plants used in essential oils.

Herbs and Medicinal Plants: India’s rich diversity of herbs like aloe vera and neem sees growing demand globally.

Cereals & Grains: Alongside rice, India is also a significant exporter of wheat and maize.

4. Top Food Products Exporters: India’s Role in Global Food Supply Chains

India has increasingly positioned itself as one of the Top food products exporters, contributing to global food security. With rising demand for processed and packaged foods, Indian food exports have expanded, including ready-to-eat meals, snacks, and beverages. The country is also tapping into the organic food market, which has grown globally. The quality and affordability of Indian food products make them attractive to consumers worldwide.

5. How India is Adapting to Global Trends in Agriculture Exports

India is continually evolving to meet the demands of international markets. This includes ensuring that products meet global quality standards and certifications. As sustainability becomes a key concern worldwide, India has adopted eco-friendly practices, including organic farming and reduced pesticide use. Technology and digital platforms are also being embraced to streamline the export of agriculture products, improving traceability and market access.

6. Challenges and Opportunities in India’s Agricultural Export Market

Despite its dominance, India faces challenges such as logistical bottlenecks, fluctuations in global demand, and stiff competition from other countries. However, opportunities abound, especially in emerging markets and niche product categories. Companies like Eurosun Global are focusing on capitalizing on these growth areas by offering a diverse range of agricultural products, reinforcing India’s position as a global export leader.

Conclusion: India’s Bright Future in Agricultural Exports

India’s position as a leading agricultural products exporter from India is not only a reflection of its vast resources but also of its strategic efforts to enhance export quality and reach. As global demand for agricultural products continues to rise, India’s future in the agricultural export market looks promising, ensuring its place at the forefront of global agriculture trade.

[whypcos]

Reducing inflammation is essential for managing chronic diseases, improving overall health, and promoting longevity. Here are some of the most effective, proven ways to reduce inflammation:

1. Anti-Inflammatory Diet

Fruits and Vegetables: Especially those rich in antioxidants like berries, leafy greens, and cruciferous vegetables (e.g., broccoli, kale).

Healthy Fats: Omega-3 fatty acids found in fatty fish (salmon, mackerel), flaxseeds, and walnuts help reduce inflammation.

Whole Grains: Brown rice, quinoa, oats, and barley provide fiber that supports gut health and lowers inflammation.

Spices: Turmeric, ginger, and garlic have anti-inflammatory properties due to compounds like curcumin and allicin.

Nuts and Seeds: Almonds, chia seeds, and walnuts are nutrient-dense and provide anti-inflammatory omega-3s.

Green Tea: Rich in polyphenols, particularly EGCG, which has strong anti-inflammatory effects.

2. Regular Exercise

Moderate Physical Activity: Exercise, such as walking, swimming, or cycling for 30 minutes a day, helps reduce inflammatory markers in the body.

Strength Training: Improves metabolic health, which reduces systemic inflammation over time.

Yoga and Stretching: These low-impact exercises help reduce stress-related inflammation and improve flexibility.

3. Stress Management

Mindfulness and Meditation: Practices that reduce stress, such as meditation and deep breathing, lower cortisol levels and prevent stress-induced inflammation.

Adequate Sleep: Poor sleep increases inflammation. Aim for 7–9 hours of quality sleep per night.

Relaxation Techniques: Activities like journaling, spending time in nature, or practicing gratitude can reduce mental stress and, consequently, inflammation.

4. Healthy Weight

Fat Loss: Excess body fat, particularly around the abdomen, releases pro-inflammatory cytokines. Weight loss reduces the release of these compounds.

Exercise: Helps burn fat and improve insulin sensitivity, which reduces inflammation.

5. Reduce Processed Foods and Sugars

Avoid Refined Carbohydrates: Sugars and refined grains (like white bread and pastries) cause spikes in blood sugar, increasing inflammation.

Processed Foods: These contain harmful trans fats, high amounts of sugar, and preservatives that trigger inflammatory responses.

Limit Omega-6 Fatty Acids: Found in processed vegetable oils (corn oil, soybean oil), excessive omega-6s can promote inflammation.

6. Hydration

Drink Plenty of Water: Staying hydrated supports detoxification, helps flush out toxins, and keeps inflammatory responses in check.

7. Supplements

Omega-3 Fatty Acids: Fish oil supplements can provide a concentrated dose of anti-inflammatory omega-3s.

Turmeric/Curcumin: Curcumin is a potent anti-inflammatory compound in turmeric, and taking it with black pepper enhances absorption.

Probiotics: A healthy gut microbiome reduces inflammation, and probiotics can help restore gut balance.

Vitamin D: Low levels of vitamin D have been linked to increased inflammation. Supplementation may help reduce this.

8. Avoid Smoking and Excessive Alcohol

Quit Smoking: Smoking triggers inflammation and damages tissues throughout the body.

Limit Alcohol: While moderate alcohol (e.g., red wine) may have some anti-inflammatory benefits, excessive consumption worsens inflammation and damages the liver.

9. Cold Therapy

Cold Showers/Ice Baths: Exposure to cold helps reduce inflammation by constricting blood vessels and improving circulation.

Cryotherapy: More intense cold exposure can reduce muscle soreness and systemic inflammation in athletes and individuals with chronic pain.

10. Manage Chronic Conditions

Control Blood Sugar: Managing blood sugar through diet, exercise, and medication (if needed) is crucial for reducing inflammation, particularly for people with diabetes.

Monitor and Treat Autoimmune Disorders: Treating conditions like rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, or inflammatory bowel disease can help minimize inflammation.

Incorporating a combination of these strategies will likely yield the best results for reducing inflammation and improving long-term health.

[iranknoodles]

SAMYANG BULDAK - 2X SPICY ARTIFICIAL SPICY CHICKEN FLAVOR RAMEN (STIR-FRIED RAMEN NOODLES)

PRODUCT

Origin: South Korea

Brand: Samyang Buldak

Flavour: Spicy Chicken

Ingredients:

Noodles (76.7%)

Wheat Flour

Thickener (E1420, E412)

Palm Oil

Wheat Gluten

Salt

Emulsifier (E422, E322)

Soybean Oil

Acidity Regulator (E501, E500, E339, E330)

Water

Tocopherol Powder

Green Tea Extract

Colour (E101)

Soup (22,7%)

Water

Artificial Chicken Flavour (Gluten, Soy, Celery)

Soy Sauce

Sugar

Habanero Pepper

Soybean Oil

Chilli Pepper

Onion

Flavour Enhancer (E621)

Chilli Pepper Oleoresin

Garlic

Chilli Pepper Seed Oil

Thickener (E1420)

Colour (E160c)

Black Pepper

Curry Seasoning (Celery)

Flake (0,6%)

Roasted Sesame

Roasted Laver

Special Indications:

May contain traces of

Crustaceans

Egg

Fish

Mollucs

Milk

Mustard

Nuts

Peanuts

Halal

Preparation:

Boil 600ml of water

Cook the noodles in the boiling water for 5 minutes

Drain the noodles but save 8 tablespoons of the cooking water

Add the noodles, the water and the sauce to a pan and stir-fry for 30 seconds

Add the flakes

----

REVIEW

Preparation: 6/10 - Alright (definitely more complicated than most but it took me no more than 10 minutes, still)

Appearence: 7.5/10 - Good (the noodles looked very juicy by themselves and they were definitely enhanced by the sauce)

Smell: 6.5/10 - Okay (it did smell like spice initially but it faded very quickly)

Flavour Accuracy: 5/10 - Okay (it says spicy chicken, so I'm giving it half the total score because it is absolutely fucking correct about the spice but there is no chicken in this whatsoever)

Tastiness: 4/10 - Meh (it just fucking tastes like sesame oil, outside the spice and that's not a very tasty thing at all)

Spiciness: 10/10 - Deadly Spicy (if you're not good with spice or if you eat too fast you could definitely have a really bad time, it fucking burns your entire system)

Texture: 8.5/10 - Very Good (very good wheat noodles, probably one of the best out there, it has just the right amount of gummyness to it)

Portion: 8/10 - Good (it can feed you and if you're feeling generous it can feed someone else too, though you'll need to eat something else then)

Final Rating: 7 - Good

Final Considerations: This is my 3rd time eating this flavour and I'm not gonna lie, it's something I have to physically and mentally prepare for. Don't get me wrong, I like spicy stuff and I do like the kinda of spice this flavour brings to the table (pun intended) but it is A LOT of spice and it burns your mouth, your nose, your throat, your lips, your ear canals... It's not for the weak and it definitely needs some preparation. My only regret with this flavour is the oil flavour that you feel as an initial taste (before the spice kicks in) because I hate sesame oil. I guess if you're a fan of it, it can be good, but I'm frankly yet to meet someone like that. I would not recommend as an everyday meal but I recommend it as a different sort of meal or a self-challenge. It is certainly an experience. Just be prepared to suffer, eh?

[cerrriy]

The Graceful Muse of Melodies. 🎀

Lee Seoyeon (이서연) is a South Korean rapper and singer under Pledis Entertainment. She is a member of the girl group fromis_9, born on January 22, 2000.

2017–2018: Idol School and debut with fromis_9

In July 2017, Seoyeon participated in the reality show Idol School, finishing the competition in seventh place, which earned her a spot in fromis_9. The group made its official debut on January 24, 2018, with their first mini-album, To. Heart.

Seoyeon's motto from her Idol School profile was: "Even if doing and not doing something both end in regret, let's do something and regret it."

🌷 A fun fact about Seoyeon :

-She is the shortest member of fromis_9.

– Family: Father (born in 1966), mother (born in 1967), 2 older brothers.

– Education: SOPA (but she gave up in order to pursue her music career)

– She was a trainee for 7 years, 9 months. She was a trainee since she was in fourth grade, at YG Entertainment, and was a part of the YG trainee group named “Future 2NE1”.– Seoyeon appared in GD&TOP’s “Knock Out” MV.

– Nickname: Sleepy Head, Baby Panda.

– The members call Seoyeon “Baby Panda”.

– Seoyeon likes romance, hero and animation movies.

– Seoyeon likes Tori Kelly, Rihanna, Dean, Heize, and Arin from Oh My Girl.

– Seoyeon likes BMO from Adventure Time and has many BMO merchandise.

– Seoyeon has a lot of chokers.

– Favorite Color: Red, Black.

– She really likes gummy bear candy and milk tea.

– She almost burnt the Fromis_9 dorm during FB live.

– Chaeyoung said that her first impression of her was that she was very chic.

– She is good at learning choreographies.

– She and Jiheon is the most fashionable member of Fromis_9.

– Seoyeon’s nickname is “Sleepy Head” because she has big dark circles under her eyes naturally. In the early days of Idol School, people thought she had the circles because she wasn’t sleeping. Her big dark circles had appeared already during her childhood.

– When Seoyeon sleeps, she likes to stretch her hand over her head.

– She is known as a big fan of the girl-band OH MY GIRL, along with Nagyung. She’s a fan of OH MY GIRL’s Arin.

– Seoyeon’s favorite colors are black and red. The members presented her a red knit as a birthday present.

– She does not have SNS. According to Instagram Live with Shin Si-a (신시아), whom has a great friendship with her, her father’s objection was severe and she could not create an account.

– Seoyeon has some kind of aquaphobia, she is afraid of water.

– Seoyeon is good at learning choreography.

– She can do popping dance (TBS fact in the star 2018).

– Seoyeon ranked 7th in Idol School with 61,083 votes.

– Motto: “Even if both doing and not doing things will end up as a regret. Let’s go with do things and regret”.

– Seoyeon is the oldest unnie of Bbang bbang (2000 liners) of Fromis_9.

– Attractive Point: Waist.

– She really likes when Hayoung cooks her kimchi fried rice and soybean paste stew.

– When she’s writing songs she thinks about the members first and thinking about the members makes her think of Flovers. And she thinks of Flovers clapping along to the song with them.

– She got her own music studio.

– She has a cat, which her aunt gave her.