#picking soybeans

[eddiesghxst]

rockstar!eddie who comes home from tour for a month and spends it fucking you, his wife, in every position you can think of on every single surface in your home because he wants you pregnant by the time he finishes tour in a few months and he’s not wasting a single second making that happen

[wellnesscard]

im actually a very embarrassing human being a lot of the time and have no clue how to be normal but its whatever and i dont believe in that shit (normal?? hilarious!) anyways. doesnt fit in my philosophy. just like i have a bachelors degree in psychology and the biggest thing i understood from that degree was that we - human persons! - are the one and only creators of these boxes (diagnoses). there is no such thing as anything because it is all understood in terms we have coined in order to describe similarly recurring phenomena -- Well! what else is language! BUT it gets super zany and excitable, when wordcrafting is applied to psychology(or more-so behavior and self analysis) - at that point you can twist and distract yourself beyond truth. i dont know what im saying imstill gettiing used to this distrubution of keys upon the chromebook (junked donated old secondhanded mamadaddy laptop thank you so fucking much to be a donation bin to a family with extra provisions

[sinhasfluffyheadfur]

I think everyone should look at my autistic son immediately

[rmspeltzfarm]

Combining Beans

[botanyshitposts]

miscommunication at my workplace a few months ago led to an unknown persons disposing of untreated soybeans in the wrong spot, which then became a soybean disaster zone when a skid loader picked up said soybean pile on accident and spread soybeans everywhere in the sloped parking lot while backing up over bumps like a comedy skit, which then caused cars to drive over them regularly until they got crushed into tiny soybean pieces that often ended up on the curb by a grassy area with a couple trees. as you can imagine this has been huge for the local birds, the dark eyed junkos specifically. the moral is that sometimes you just hit it big as a little guy

[onlyangel4]

the life i deserve. part three. LN4. OP81

in which reader unexpectedly falls pregnant but her current boyfriend can't say no to his party lifestyle so he leaves her. who better to fill his place than his teammate.

warnings- pregnancy. angst. baby trapping allegations.

faceclaim: hailey bieber

author's note: trace results are all fictional

part one // part two

part four

y/ninsta posted a story

f1wags

liked by user7, user8, user9 and 34,819 others

f1wags: lando norris' pregnant ex girlfriend y/n y/ln was pictured entering the imola paddock today. she arrived to the paddock with norris' teammate oscar piastri. this is the first time she has been in the paddock since her break up with norris.

sources say they saw y/n and oscar and y/n arrive and then logan sargeant and his girlfriend riley whittall arrive five minutes later this was when piastri and y/n parted ways as y/n went to the williams garage with whittall and sargeant.

yesterday y/n had a gender reveal for her baby boy, most of the grid and their partners were in attendance, other than lando norris who stated that he will continue to support y/n and their baby but it seems like the couple ended things on less than friendly terms as y/n is hiding in the williams garage.

view all 1,029 comments

user7: everyone on the grid picked team y/n, there has to be more of a story there

user8: i'm glad oscar is looking after y/n, something tells me that lando is not going to be a very good dad

user9: i just know that mclaren pr team hat y/n because she has definetly caused a few headlines as of recent

y/ninsta posted a story

written: lovely change of scenery

f1updates posted a story

written: shock exit from the imola gp, after starting from pole lando norris has suffered a dnf after a crash with fernando alonso

f1 posted two stories

story one: two f1 firsts today, oscar piastri's first win

story two: and logan sargeant finished p8 winning his first f1 points

y/ninsta posted a story

written: had to run to the bathroom because this crazy pregnant lady cried when her two favourite people achieved greatness in italy

f1gossip

liked by user10, user11, user13 and 458,928 others

f1gossip: sources confirm that it all just kicked off in the paddock. y/n y/ln (lando's pregnant ex girlfriend) and riley whittall (logan's girlfriend) were walking through the paddock when lando ran over to them and got in a heated conversation with y/n. the british driver got angry and started shouting in the pregnant woman's face. this alerted oscar and logan who were doing interviews nearby.

piastri and sargeant ran over to the group with oscar pushing y/n behind him while shouting at lando for getting in a pregnant woman's face like that and logan got lando to leave. meanwhile y/n was crying and a load of papparazzi were getting close to her so all the near by wags performed a protective group hug around her making sure no one got pictures of y/n so upset

view all 58,924 comments

user10: i used to be a lando fan, but who the fuck berates a pregnant woman like that

user11: yeah does he forget that he was the one that got her pregnant

user12: i am so glad logan and oscar were nearby

user13: what a fragile man

user14: my heart breaks for y/n

y/ninsta posted a story

written: me and baby fly back to nyc today, just to let you all know that this weekend was my last time in the paddock for the near future, i'm going to focus on cooking this baby and nesting ready for his arrival

series taglist

@bibissparkles

@milkysoop

@hadids-world

@callsignwidow

@barcelonaloverf1life

@queen-of-the-hunt

@piastrams

@kravitzwhore

@a-beaverhausen

@fangirlforever2000

@formulaal

@azeal-peal

@magical-spit

@that-one-little-soybean

@raizelchrysanderoctavius

@zatarias-pandora

@unknownmystery22

@anotheranotherblogwoah

[multifandomfanficss]

Don’t Stop My Heart

Tyler Owens x Reader

Prompt: You and Tyler take a road trip up to Iowa to catch some of the last tornadoes of the season, but he takes the teasing a little too far.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of car crashes, swerving, shitty ex boyfriends. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Hello! I didn’t proofread this one as many times as I usually do. I’m coming off a 4 and a half month writers block so I really just wanted to write and post while I was excited to do it. My job has been draining me as of late, so I’m trying to write when I get the impulse. I have so many Tyler ideas and no time to write them. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

It was still fairly early, the sun was still rising. Last night you’d planned an impromptu trip up north to Iowa. It was about a 7 hour trip from Oklahoma, so you were on the road before 6. You were hoping to get there around noon. You didn’t love getting up that early, but Tyler promised he’d drive you and you could sleep in the truck. Tornado season was pretty much over aside from an isolated storm or two, but Iowa had been having very unusual storm activity all week. Tyler couldn’t resist hitting a couple more tornadoes in late August when the season was supposed to be pretty much over with.

You stayed awake for a little bit. You wanted to watch as you crossed into Missouri.

“Missouri welcomes you.” Tyler reads out loud.

“Yes! Finally!” You giggle.

“I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of Missouri.” Tyler comments.

“Oh, I’m not.” You pause, looking out your window.

“First you’re hypin’ her up, now you’re gonna disappoint her.” He jokes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure Missouri’s fine, but I’m more excited about that.” You point to a Hardee’s down the street.

“Really? We’re crossin’ state lines and you’re gonna make me take you to Hardee’s? You can get Carl’s Jr. anytime you want back home. That’s basically the same thing.” He argues.

“Take that back! You’re just saying that because you’re a Texas boy! You’ve never had the luxury of Hardee’s.” You joke.

“If Carl’s Jr. is better, I’m not letting you pick where we eat for the rest of the trip.” Tyler puts on his turn signal and sighs.

“How is that fair? I’ve never eaten at this location. What if it sucks?” You laugh.

“You picked your Hardee’s hill and now you’re gonna die on it. Now keep your trap closed and tell me what’s good on the menu.” Tyler makes a pretend threatening face towards you as he pulls into the drive thru.

“How am I supposed to not talk and at the same time tell you what’s good?” You tease back.

“Hi welcome to Hardee’s, may I take your order?” The drive thru speaker cuts you off. Tyler shushes you and you giggle.

After getting your food you start unwrapping the straws and putting them in both drinks.

“Whatever score we give this we need to give it extra points to account for how good the curly fries would be if they were serving lunch.” You try to bargain, taking a bite.

“No, you can’t just change the rules after we already got our food, that’s cheating. Just because you’re from the north, doesn’t mean you can cheat me.” He argues. He continues driving, leaving behind the paved roads of the small town.

“You’re acting like I’m Canadian!” You giggle.

“Well, Upper Midwest is basically Canada. There’s literally a town in Iowa called Toronto!” He smirks, taking the last bite of his food, continuing to drive through the middle of nowhere Missouri, back onto the gravel roads through the soybean fields.

“Shut up!” You playfully hit his arm. He jokingly swerves and your stomach flips. You gasp air. “Tyler, knock it off.”

“You’re the one who hit me.” He pleas innocent.

“I didn’t hit you that hard.” You defend.

“I thought you were gonna sleep on the drive.” He says, smirking.

“I might later, I’m not tired.” You answer, falling for his bit. He does a big fake yawn.

“Well if you’re not tired, I might take a little nap.” He lightly swerves again.

“Tyler, this isn’t funny!” You plead.

“What? Oh. Do you mind watching the road? We woke up so early and I’m pretty tired.” He jokes before swerving again. He’s taking the joke way too far. Once was one thing, twice was too much. You start hyperventilating.

“Tyler, STOP!” You yell, tears starting to come to your eyes.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” He has a concerned look on his face. He knew he had taken it too far.

“It’s not funny.” You cry.

“You’re right, it’s not funny. I would never-a done it if I’d known it would make you feel unsafe. I do it all the time on chases and that don’t seem to bother you. I didn’t realize-“

“That’s different! The roads and the fields when there’s no storms are different! We’re on an actual road! What- what if there were other people?! What if you hit somebody?! What if a sherif saw?!” You say, obviously still panicking. Tyler decides to pull over.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was way outta line, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no cars or tractors around. We’re safe.” His voice is soft. “Just breathe, Darlin’. Just you and me.” He takes your hand, rubbing small circles in it. “I feel bad. I wanted a reaction outta you, but not like this. I never want you to feel unsafe with me.”

“I know.” You were still struggling to breathe. Tyler places your hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He hopes you can sync yours with his own.

“Take it easy, sweetheart. You’re okay. Feel me breathing? We’re both okay.” He places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry… it’s not you. When I was in high school I had a crazy ex boyfriend who used to swerve in town just to scare me because he knew I was afraid of car crashes. He almost killed us a couple times, I think. I guess no matter how much time’s passed, dumb high school bullshit still affects me into my adult years.”

“Hey, that’s not okay. It’s not dumb bullshit. It’s trauma.” You lean over the console to be closer to him and he wraps his arms around you. “I would never put you in danger like that for the sake of a joke.” You could tell his blood was boiling on the inside, but he was trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t want to upset you more. He knew this was about you feeling better, not him.

“We gotta get going if we wanna try to make it by 1.” You wipe your tears.

“I don’t care how long we’re pulled over. Hell, we can even turn around if you’re not up to anymore. I don’t care about the chase. I care about you.” He moves your hair out of your face. “I can call the rest of the team and tell them to turn around right now or go without us.”

“What happened to Mr. If You Feel It, Chase It?” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. He looks into your eyes. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him so serious.

“The only feeling that matters is the one I get when I’m with you.“

Tears start creeping up again. These tears aren’t bad, though.

“Tyler, I’m in love with you.” It just slips out, like the easiest confession you’ve ever made in your life. You both knew there was something there, but neither one of you were willing to say it. It had always been heavy flirting, awkward mornings after cuddling in the only bed left at the motel, a drunk kiss or two.

After a moment of staring in silence Tyler kisses you. Everything happened in slow motion, but in truth it was probably just the adrenaline slowing everything down. Tyler wasted no time in kissing you. It was the quickest decision he’s ever made. You don’t know how long the kiss was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. You’d swear off oxygen for the rest of your life if it meant this moment never had to end. You’d been pinning after your best friend for so long and finally the moment was here.

“I’m so glad you said something because you’re one of the best navigators I know and I really didn’t wanna risk losing you from the team by telling you I was in love with you.” Tyler laughs.

“Is that the only reason you didn’t tell me?” You ask.

“No, I was scared. Losing you from the team would be a bummer, but I couldn’t lose you from my life. We see a lot of loss in this business. Whenever I thought about it, the thing I couldn’t stand to lose most was you.” He runs his fingers through your hair, moving to cup your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was nice to finally say it. You’d waited a long time to tell him.

“Let’s get back on the road. This time just don’t stop my heart.” You give a small laugh.

“You’re safe with me.”

“I know. You’re not like those other guys, Ty.”

You hold hands and rest on his other arm as he drives. He’s lucky he’s good at driving with one hand because he’s happy to see about 30 minutes later you’ve finally fallen asleep. Today was going to be a long day, but Tyler knew forcing the team to wake up so early was worth it. He may have had to bribe Boone 20 bucks to drive the other car up with Lily, but at least he didn’t have a third wheel sitting in the back seat. Tyler didn’t get a lot of alone time with you. Now he had 7 hours of it. It was worth it.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 7: Tell Me That I Won't Feel A Thing]

A/N: Hello besties! Thank you for voting in the poll for Chapter 7. Below are your predictions...let's see how you did! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is back yay!!!

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Give Me Novacaine” by Green Day.

Word count: 9.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

Billboards ask you as the Tahoe flies across the flat emerald sea of Iowa: Have you heard the good news? Have you been saved? Where will you spend eternity? Are you struggling with same-sex attraction? Do you regret your abortion? Do you fear the Lord? Do you want to end up in Hell?

Aegon snickers, gnawing on a Slim Jim. The sun glare turns his wild hair to gold, etches crinkles into the ruddy skin around his eyes, murky like deep water, oceans you recognize from other corners of the world. “I thought I was already there.”

Jace’s Honda Rebel 300 is left on the shoulder of the highway with its fuel tank uncapped, drained to feed the Tahoe, prehistoric combustion, bottomless mechanical hunger. Rhaena takes over driving so Baela can sit with Jace, touch him, inhale him, convince herself he’s real. Aegon climbs into the passenger’s seat and skips songs on the CD player until he finds the one he wants: In Da Club by 50 Cent. The miles roll by so soft and so infinite that you can’t imagine ever feeling trapped again, warm July air unfurling down the darkest corridors of your lungs, hawks on lifeless power lines and fields dappled with white-tailed deer. And you think: Everything will be better now.

You cross the Missouri River and into Nebraska at Plattsmouth, which—according to a plaque mounted on the outskirts of town—the Lewis and Clark Expedition passed through over two centuries ago. Rhaena follows Aegon’s directions to cut between Lincoln and Omaha, avoiding the roiling wastelands of the cities and keeping well north of Cooper Nuclear Station, where in the absence of a successful manual or computerized shutdown before the power grid collapsed, rods of uranium are melting down and irradiating the surrounding area, anemia, cancer, heart disease, radiation sickness, an affliction that eats you alive.

Rhaena takes Nebraska State Route 66 north and then Route 92 due west, lush fields of corn and soybeans and sorghum planted before the dead began to walk, bones of devoured livestock. You stop for the night in a town called Broken Bow, the sky turning the colors of fire and rust and blood, the Tahoe exsanguinated like a man with a slit throat. Every vehicle you pass already has its fuel cap unscrewed; the farther west you go—the scarcer the resources, the longer it’s been since the world began to end—the less the earth will yield to you: less guns, less gasoline, less food, less human settlements scattered across what was once called the frontier. You commandeer a two-story house: white wood, wraparound porch, a long gravel driveway that winds like a snake. There is a small cornfield and a barn, both of which you sweep for zombies before making yourselves at home. You try not to think about what happened to the family that used to live here.

Helaena lights candles, Luke and Rhaena distribute bowls and silverware, Aemond and Rio gather kindling for the woodstove, Daeron keeps watch on the porch, Aegon picks all the Twizzlers out of a mixed bag of Hershey’s candy for Jace. There is a 12-pack of Ramen noodles in the pantry, gallons of water in the cellar, and a pot large enough to cook it all in one batch. Cregan takes Ice and disappears into the cornfield for half an hour at dusk—something none of the rest of you would ever consider—and reappears with an opossum that he’s nearly decapitated with his axe. He butchers it and you brown cubes of meat in a sauté pan placed directly on the glowing embers. The others are horrified and won’t eat a single bite until you do. It’s the first real food you’ve had since you left Saratoga Springs, and you feel satiated in a way you had forgotten existed.

In honor of Jace’s resurrection, some revelry is in order. There are bottles of Grey Goose vodka in a kitchen cabinet, and Aemond allows a two drink maximum for anyone eligible to participate: Baela is too pregnant, Daeron is too young, Aemond himself is too vigilant, too self-sacrificial, too indoctrinated into the religion of his own martyrdom.

“Daddy loved his screwdrivers,” Cregan says. “I remember being five or six and taking a big gulp of one thinking it was Sunny D or Tang or something. Lord almighty, was that a shock!” He guffaws, then inspects the pantry, scratching at the dark stubble on his cheeks. “We ain’t got nothing like orange juice though.”

“Mama made hers with Hawaiian Punch.” You point: there are several jugs of it on the floor between boxes of Pop-Tarts and Welch’s Fruit Snacks and Cheddar Whales, red like crushed blackberries or fresh blood.

Cregan grins at you over his brawny shoulder. “That’ll work, Miss Chips.”

Luke and Rhaena have first watch, Rio and Aegon will take the second. You are blessedly unburdened tonight. This house is big enough for you to get your own room; you climb the staircase with Grey Goose vodka burning in your throat, your head warm and dizzy, a sensation like freefalling as you lie down on the bed.

I left them, you think, the walls spinning around you, echoes of Mama’s voice through the phone as Rio stood there nodding, encouraging you to hang up. I left them and I never looked back. Can someone commit such an act of ancestral betrayal without incurring a curse?

You are still considering this when you feel Aemond’s weight on the mattress and fold into him, the world going dark and hushed and harmless.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I think it’s safe,” you tell Aemond between sighs, his lips on your throat, his hand between your thighs. Late-morning sunlight slants in through the bedroom windows; goldfinches and blue jays flap by chirping blithely. The dead pillage the misfortunate beasts of the earth, but creatures of the air and water are spared. You can hear geese honking from a distance, and the breeze through the cornfield, and calm indistinct voices beneath the floorboards. You can smell pancakes turning from white to gold in a pan sizzling with Crisco. Cregan must be cooking breakfast in the woodstove.

“How sure are you?” Aemond murmurs, his breath warm on your neck, those small teeth he’s always hiding nipping playfully, and if he leaves marks like stains of ballpoint ink you don’t care. He’s whisked every scrap of your clothing away. Beneath him you are bare and helpless and needing more.

“Like…eighty percent sure.”

“I’ll pull out.”

“Like Jace did?”

He laughs and kisses your mouth, not just ravenous but wild like a storm, and all the rest of the world goes quiet. Your ankles are linked around him, his hips rocking with yours. He is wearing only his boxers, black plaid from a looted Walmart, apocalypse chic. “Hopefully better than that.”

“Just try your best. I trust you. I’m willing to risk it.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s worth it to me.” I could be dead in nine months, he could be dead in nine months. I’m not wasting the time we have left.

“It’s your decision. You would be most affected by the consequences.” He draws away and glances down. “I want to look at you.”

“Ohhh.” You stall. “I’ve been trimming with scissors by candlelight. It’s a hack job.”

“I won’t mind.” He grins. “You don’t mind my hack job of a face.”

“I love your face,” you say as you skim your fingerprints down the length of his scar. And then, when he raises an eyebrow roguishly: “I didn’t break any rules. I didn’t say I love you, just your face. I’m totally using you for your face. Your personality is terrible.”

He snickers, kisses you goodbye, retreats to your hips and pushes your thighs apart as you cover your face and whimper, nervous, exhilarated. And then his lips are on you and the trepidation melts away, puddles pooling and then evaporating, and you have a vision of being home again, shivering and dripping in front of the crackling flames of the woodstove after playing outside in the snow and waiting for the fire to take the cold away. Now the fire is growing over you like ivy, tendrils snaking through veins and leaves opening in your lungs, bones vanishing, muscles turning pliant and weightless. You can feel Aemond’s fingers pushing into you, a fleeting second of tension and discomfort, and then a fullness that is delectable, irresistible, maddening.

“Come back,” you plead, and when he does you clasp his face with both hands, kissing him deeply as his fingers remain inside you, thrusting and bathed in your wetness. You’re finally ready for him, you have to be, you need him so badly: like you’re dying of thirst, like you’re running out of air. “Now, Aemond, please. I want all of you.”

And he wants it too. His boxers are gone and he’s positioning himself between your legs, his tongue in your mouth, one hand cradling your jaw as the other guides his cock to where you are slick and aching and aware of an emptiness that has never felt so dire.

He’s so big…

But you are determined to take all of him. You don’t care if there’s pain, if there’s fear. You want to feel what it’s like to be with him before it’s too late.

Aemond presses himself against you, rolls his hips cautiously…and nothing happens. He is a bit more forceful. There is immense pressure, then the beginning of a stretching that is sharp, searing, dreadful, unfamiliar in a way that is completely disorienting. You gasp before you can stop yourself; a wince ripples across your face too quickly to camouflage. Aemond shakes his head and climbs off you, settling beside you on the bed.

“Fuck,” you exhale in frustration, slapping a palm down on the mattress. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand why…why I’m like this…”

“Shh,” Aemond soothes, kissing you. “It’s okay, it’s fine. I’ll help you finish and then we can try again later.”

“Why isn’t this easier?”

“You’re just nervous,” he says gently, smoothing your hair back from your face, like it’s no big deal, like he’s pointing out a bird or a rabbit or the shape of a cloud.

“I don’t feel nervous.”

“It’s not always conscious, sometimes the body reacts without the mind even being aware of it. You tense up and things become…more challenging. But fortunately for us, the treatment is very enjoyable. We just keep messing around and working up to it until one day you’re so aroused and so relaxed that I can glide in without any discomfort whatsoever, and then your body adjusts to this glorious new experience and you aren’t so nervous anymore.”

“Can’t you just…you know…sorry, this isn’t very romantic, but like…shove it in?”

“I could, sure,” Aemond says. “If I was a horrible person. And then you’d learn to associate sex with pain, which would just exacerbate the situation.”

“The problem, you mean.”

He smiles patiently. “You aren’t a problem. We’ll figure it out, we have time.”

Do we? You stare morosely up at the ceiling, shadows of clouds, shades of wings. “I should have hooked up with that Marine at Corpus Christi. Then I’d have practice. I was so afraid of giving a man the power to hurt me or get me pregnant or otherwise ruin my life, but I didn’t know I’d meet you one day. And now I just want everything to be easy for us, and it isn’t.”

“Hey.” Aemond turns your face towards his. “For me, you are…” He struggles to decide on the words, his eye drifting to the window, sunlight turning the blue of his iris to a shallow, glass-clear river. “You’re like an island, and everything else is a sea of poison, and violence, and catastrophically fucked up situations, and when we’re alone together it all goes away for a little while. The world gets quiet. It’s never been like that for me before. I don’t mind if it takes time for us to figure this out. I just want to be with you.”

“What happens when we get to Nevada, and you’re supposed to turn south for the Bay Area while I go north to Oregon?”

Aemond shrugs, but his expression is contemplative. “I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe we’ll all stay together and go to one place, then the other. If Odessa is safe, I can bring my parents, Criston, and Grandfather there. If it isn’t, we can bring Rio’s family south and live in California in that beach house on the cliff.”

“I never thought I’d set foot in a mansion.”

“I never thought I’d eat opossum.”

You laugh and curl up against him, resting your head and a palm on his chest. “How was it?”

“Not too bad, actually. Kind of like dark meat chicken. A little gamey, but I like lamb and venison, so that’s fine with me.”

“Just wait until you try bear.”

“Bear?!”

There is a knock at the bedroom door. Luke’s bashful voice is muted through the wood. “Aemond?”

“Yeah?” Aemond replies impatiently.

This was not an invitation, but Luke doesn’t seem to know that. He opens the door, and as he does Aemond throws the blanket over you so you’re covered, leaving himself completely exposed.

Luke begins: “I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, but…” His eyes go wide. “Oh, you’re like, all the way naked.” He turns and stares at the wall to be polite. “If it’s a bad time, I could come back in five minutes. Do you need more than five minutes? Wait, that was rude, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sure you can last way longer than five minutes…um…”

Aemond sighs. “What’s wrong, Luke?”

“Jace is sick.”

“Sick?” Aemond sits up straighter, his eye narrowing. “Sick how?”

“He’s been puking since he woke up.”

You and Aemond exchange a startled glance as you clutch the edges of a blanket patterned with wild horses. Illness, virus, plague, curse.

“He hasn’t been bitten or anything,” Luke says quickly. “So it can’t be…you know…that. And he and Baela don’t seem that worried. But you should probably take a look at him.”

Aemond nods, less alarmed now. “I agree. Can I get those five minutes first?”

Luke smiles. “Yeah. See you downstairs.” He leaves and shuts the door behind him.

You look to Aemond. “Why—?”

He yanks the blanket away and drags you towards him. “I said I was going to help you finish,” he says, grinning, a hand slipping between your thighs.

You bite at his lips when he kisses you and tease: “I don’t need your help.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t. But it’s better when I’m here.”

And he’s right; it is.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daeron is out on the front porch sharpening sticks into arrows and using goose feathers for fletching, attaching them to the wood with a tube of Gorilla Glue that Helaena found for him. Helaena herself is presently floating through the house—soundlessly, ethereally, traceless like a ghost—and partaking in what you all call “apocalypse shopping,” pilfering the clothes and accessories of the former occupants. She seems to know everyone’s sizes without needing to ask. Aegon, Rio, and Cregan are sitting in the living room and eating pancakes off paper plates, carelessly spilling Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup on hideous 1970s couches ornamented with scenes of pheasants and autumn leaves. Down on the Turkish-style area rug, Ice is merrily chomping her way through a stack of burnt pancakes.

“So Cregan,” Rio says, his bare feet propped on the coffee table. “What did you do before the whole zombie situation?”

“I was a lumberjack.”

“No way!”

“Yes sir. I cut down trees for the power company.”

“What a coincidence,” Rio says around a mouthful of pancakes. “I was an electrician!”

“Well how about that? We oughta go into business together once the world straightens itself out. Where’d you work?”

“All over. Wherever the Navy sent us.”

Cregan sets his fork down on his plate. “You were enlisted?”

“Yeah, me and Chips both. That’s how we met.”

Cregan, much to Rio’s surprise, seizes his hand and shakes it soberly. “Thank you very kindly for your service.”

“No problem,” Rio replies, then turns to Aegon. “No gratitude from you, huh?”

“I showed my gratitude when I let you have the last pancake, you ogre…”

In the only bedroom on the first floor, down a hallway and towards the back of the house, Jace looks worse than you expected. He is heaving into a reusable plastic popcorn bucket, gluey ropes of saliva dangling from his lips; his skin is pale and bloodless, his dark curls damp with sweat. Baela is perched beside him on the bed and holding a wet washcloth to the back of his neck. Rhaena and Luke are loitering anxiously in the doorway, watching Aemond to determine if they should panic.

Jace casts you a bitter glance. “You poisoned me with your poor people food.”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating opossum,” you say, somewhat defensively.

Aemond feels his forehead. “That wouldn’t give you a fever. And everyone else is fine.”

“Maybe I’m extra sensitive. My digestive system has higher standards. I’m built different.” Jace resumes retching into the bucket.

Baela tells Aemond: “He can’t keep anything down. There’s nothing left in him, but he’s still so sick…it has to be a stomach flu, right?”

“Who would he have caught it from?” Luke asks, and Baela doesn’t have an answer.

“Stand up,” Aemond orders Jace when his wave of nausea abates. “Strip down.”

“Aemond, he wasn’t bitten,” Baela says. “I saw his whole body last night. He doesn’t have any scratches or bruises or anything.”

“Fine. But I want to see for myself.”

Jace stumbles out of the bed, pushing away Baela’s hands as she tries to stop him. “Okay, Nick Fury. If you wish to gaze upon the goods, I won’t deny you. I’m not shy.” Aemond rolls his eye. You turn around to give Jace privacy. “What’s the matter, Chips? The only dick you’re interested in belongs to Mike Wazowski over there?”

“Jace,” Baela says, but she’s chuckling. Amused, you stare at a picture on the wall—a haloed Jesus guiding a flock of lambs—as Jace sheds his clothing and follows Aemond’s instructions: lift your arm, turn around, show me the bottoms of your feet.

“No bites,” Aemond confirms, deep in thought. “But the symptoms…”

“It’s not that, Aemond, I’m telling you,” Jace insists, rasping breaths between each clause. “Listen, I got sick when I was alone, before I found you guys again. My stomach, my head. Maybe it’s the same thing now. It didn’t last long, and I thought I was over it, but I guess not.”

“People don’t get better and then worse again after they’ve been bitten,” Rhaena observes softly. “They just get worse.”

Jace lies back down on the bed, his face crumbling with pain. Baela uses the wet washcloth to cool his cheeks and neck. “My head hurts so fucking bad…”

“Because you’re dehydrated,” Aemond says.

“Helaena brought pills, but every time I try to take one I throw it up before it can start working.” There is a gurgling sound in his guts, and then a horrified expression. “Baela, I gotta get outside again.” She and Luke immediately swoop in, grab one arm each, and usher him out of the bedroom, through the back door of the farmhouse, and into the cornfield to allow him some semblance of dignity.

Rhaena gives you and Aemond an awkward smirk. “Helaena found Jace a 24-pack of Angel Soft toilet paper in the basement. So there’s some good news.”

“He needs electrolytes,” Aemond says. “We can’t let him get so dehydrated that his kidneys shut down. IV fluids aren’t an option. Pedialyte would be the next best thing, Gatorade or Powerade if that’s all we can find.”

“We passed a pharmacy on our way here,” Rhaena recalls. “It’s only a mile back, I think.”

Aemond nods. “Then that’s where I’m going,” he says, and walks out of the room.

You say as you follow him: “I want to go with you.”

“No.” Aemond points to Rio, who is now playing Uno with Aegon on the coffee table in the living room. “You and I are going to a pharmacy to get Pedialyte for Jace so he doesn’t die.”

“Cool,” Rio says, standing and fetching his Remington shotgun from where he propped it against the wall. “What’s wrong with him?”

“We don’t know. Maybe food poisoning.”

Aegon says, a hand pressed to his heart: “Personally, I loved the opossum.”

You stare defiantly up at Aemond. “If Rio is going, I have to go too.”

“Aww, so you can protect me?” Rio teases fondly, patting your back with one monstrous palm, an unintentional battering.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Rio looks at Aemond. Aemond looks at you, touching his chin agitatedly. “You are stressing me out.”

“I’m the best shot. I want to be there in case anything happens.”

“Fine, okay, whatever you want. Just stay near Rio.”

“That’s the idea.”

“A pharmacy?” Aegon asks excitedly. “Can I go?”

“No,” Aemond snaps, and continues out onto the porch. In the gravel driveway, Cregan and Daeron are kneeling by the Tahoe and inspecting the front tire on the driver’s side. “What’s wrong now?” Aemond asks, exasperated.

“Got a flat,” Cregan says. “The little fella here noticed it.”

Daeron is mortified. “Please don’t call me that.”

Aemond peers around mistrustfully, out at the road, into the cornfield. “Someone sabotaged us?”

Cregan shakes his head and taps the tire. “Naw, we just ran over a nail yesterday. You can see it right here. A big one too, a masonry nail, I suspect.”

“Can you fix it?” Rio asks.

“I think so. I saw a jack and a lug wrench hanging up on the wall in the barn, now I just need a new tire, a real one. A spare wouldn’t do us much good, not with all the weight we’re carrying. It’d pop in twenty miles.” Cregan gestures to the main road, but westward, the opposite direction from the pharmacy. “Don’t remember seeing a tire place on our way in. Figured I’d try the other direction. I’ll walk ‘til I find a shop or a truck with the right kind of tires to steal from, whichever comes first. Can’t change a tire on gravel, though. I’ll have to drive the Tahoe out to the road and fix it there. I’m gonna need Rhaena’s keys.”

There is an uneasy lull as Aemond studies him. You, Rio, Daeron, and Aegon—who is lingering on the front porch, not yet ready to admit defeat—glance between them apprehensively. Ice is rolling around in the gravel, coating her grey fur with dust. “How do I know you won’t take off without us?”

Cregan’s face goes dark. His brow, heavy and furrowed, settles low over his eyes. “Look buddy, I’ve done a lot of things for you and your people that I didn’t have to. And now I’m fixing the Tahoe so it can take you west, someplace you decided we’re going. If you don’t trust me, do it yourself. Kill your own opossum. Change your own flat tire. But you can’t, can you? Just like I can’t shoot a zombie straight through the eye or tell you how to cure that sick boy in there. We’ve all got jobs here. Let me do mine.”

Aemond glowers at Cregan, knowing he’s right. Daeron averts his eyes; Rio, grinning, eats a handful of Cheddar Whales from a pocket of his cargo shorts. You lay a palm on Aemond’s forearm. “Aemond…he’s trying to help.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies crossly.

“You want collateral?” Cregan says. “Take my dog.” He whistles, and Ice scampers to his side. He points to you. “Go on, princess.” Ice obediently trots over to stand with you, shaggy ash-colored fur, bestial amber eyes like a rattlesnake’s. “She’ll look after you on your way to the pharmacy and back. And if the Tahoe and I have mysteriously vanished upon your return, you can eat her for dinner.”

“You don’t want a warning if you’re about to run into zombies?” Rio asks.

Cregan chuckles as he picks up his axe off the gravel. “Don’t you worry about me. We haven’t heard a peep since we got into town, and I’m just going a little ways up the road. Any less than ten of those abominations, and I can take care of myself.” He gives you and Rio a parting salute and strides into the farmhouse to collect the Tahoe keys from Rhaena.

Aemond turns to Daeron. “Stay here, keep watch. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Daeron nods, glancing to where his compound bow rests on the front porch. “Got it.”

“Aegon will help you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Aegon says. “I want to go to the pharmacy too.”

Aemond is losing what remains of his patience. “No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Then can you at least bring me something back?”

Rio is confounded. “What do you need?”

“You know…” Aegon gestures vaguely. “Percocet, Vicodin, Oxy, maybe some of that cough syrup with the codeine in it—”

“Grow the fuck up,” Aemond flares, and Aegon falls silent. “You’re thirty years old. Take some goddamn responsibility for something, for anything. I have to go to the pharmacy, Cregan has to fix the Tahoe, someone has to stay here with Daeron to help protect Jace and Baela, and Luke and Rhaena, and Helaena too. Just shut up and do the right thing. You have to start acting like an adult. Who do you think is in charge if I get killed? I’ve never for a single day of my life had the luxury of making selfish choices, and now I feel like I’m not even allowed to die. Leaving everyone else with you would be like leaving them with nobody.”

Aegon gazes up at him, not offended but childishly, mortally wounded. His oceanic eyes are huge and glistening. “But you’re not going to die before me.”

“That’s not the point,” Aemond pitches back, cutting, caustic. Then he starts down the long gravel driveway towards the road. You give Aegon a small, apologetic half-smile and then follow after his younger brother, Ice loping alongside you.

Rio thumps Aegon encouragingly on one shoulder. “See you soon, Honey Bun.” And Aegon watches the three of you disappear, standing in the dazzling midday light with his arms folded over his chest and his hair in hie face, kicking at the gravel with the Sperry Bahama sneakers he once wore on yachts and golf courses.

“Please try to be nice to him,” you tell Aemond when you’re far enough away to be out of earshot. Rio is humming a song you don’t immediately recognize—probably Enrique Iglesias—and acting like he’s not listening. “You don’t know how much longer any of us have. And if that was the last thing you ever said to him, you’d feel awful about it.”

“You have no idea what it was like being his brother. Since I was born all I’ve done is try to plug the holes he blasts into ships. But there’s always water on the floor, I’m never done bailing it out. He needs to learn how to do things for himself.”

“Yes, he does. But he loves you, and he wants you to be happy. He would never intentionally take anything from you. He’ll grow into his purpose, whatever that is.”

“He needs to do it faster,” Aemond says harshly, and you walk the rest of the way without speaking, listening for snarling or lurching footsteps, hearing nothing but birdsong and wind whispering through leaves.

The pharmacy—a diminutive family-owned business, not a chain—has been ravaged. The glass of the large bay window has been broken out and the shelves looted, empty containers and wrappers littering the floor, crystalline shards threatening to gash, stab, infect.

“Stay out here with the dog,” Aemond tells you. Ice is panting calmly, her ears relaxed, her strange yellowish eyes taking in the scenery without any concern. “If she gets her paws sliced up, Cregan will have yet another accusation to levy against me.”

“You’re going to have to get used to him.”

“Not much of an adjustment for you, it seems,” Aemond says, then steps through the shattered window, glass crunching beneath his shoes. Rio gives you a wink and goes after him. They rummage through the remaining merchandise, strewn about randomly and interspersed among trash. Aemond peeks behind the counter where pharmacists once filled prescriptions and climbs over it, searching for any bottles or boxes that were left behind.

“Sorry guys, no condoms,” Rio announces, then laughs at his own joke.

“Be careful,” you urge from outside. “Look underneath, check the bottom racks. Rio? Rio, down low, check them!”

“Relax, ain’t nothing going on in here. It’s silent as the grave.” He laughs again. “Get it? As the grave.”

“Aemond?”

“I’m fine,” he tells you as he squints to read medicine bottles.

“Okay, okay,” Rio says, squatting to examine the shelves closest to the cluttered floor. “I’m checking all the racks. There’s nothing scary under the racks. Happy now?”

“Very. Helaena said something that freaked me out.”

“She can be a bit of an enigma,” Aemond admits. He is taking a tiny box from a drawer to keep.

“Oh, we got Pedialyte!” Rio says, yanking a jug of pink fluid from a pile of debris. “You think Jace likes strawberry?”

Aemond hurries over to help him hunt for more. “Yeah. It’s like a Twizzler, right?”

Ice noses your hand and whimpers softly. You look down at her. “What?”

She whirls and canters around the side of the pharmacy, then returns to make sure you’re keeping up. You go after her, slow and wary, a hand on one of your Beretta M9s. There’s nothing of note to be found in the narrow, shadowy alleyway other than an overflowing dumpster and two skeletons stripped of every shred of fabric and flesh; even the bones were licked clean.

You turn to Ice. “Did I need to see this?” She whines and shifts her weight from foot to foot, ears perked up. Something else? You look down the alleyway. Far behind the pharmacy and the shops that surround it is a church on a jade green slope, old-fashioned, white wood and a belltower. There is a cemetery beside it, and amidst the small grey blurs of headstones are… “Oh,” you breathe. “So that’s where the rest of the town is.”

The graveyard is full of limp, swaying figures that can only be zombies. You are far away and draped in shadows; you retreat back to the pharmacy without any indication that you’ve been spotted, Ice trailing close behind. Aemond and Rio are climbing out of the window just as you arrive. They are each carrying three jugs of Pedialyte in various flavors.

“Where the hell’d you go?” Aemond says; but he sounds more relieved than irritated.

“There’s a church about an eight of a mile away. And there are a lot of zombies in the cemetery.”

Rio sets his Pedialyte down on the sidewalk and reaches for the Remington 12 gauge hanging over his shoulder by its leather strap. “Okay, let’s go clear them out.”

“No, I mean a lot. Like a hundred.”

He freezes. “Oh.”

“We should leave town,” you say.

“While Jace is puking and shitting everywhere? You want to be stuck in a car with that?”

Aemond is thinking, toying with the little box you saw him pick up earlier. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“What’s that?” you ask him.

He shows you the label. “Injectable morphine. All the pills were gone, but I found one vial of this, and I have syringes in my medical kit. It doesn’t need to be refrigerated. It should still be useable.”

“For Baela?” For when she delivers the baby?

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Just in case.” Then he looks at both you and Rio meaningfully. “Don’t tell Aegon I have this.”

“We won’t,” Rio promises. And Ice begins trotting back towards the farmhouse, as if trying to rush you along.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Tahoe is at the mouth of the long gravel driveway, still up on a hand-cranked scissor jack. The tire appears to be new, but the lug nuts haven’t been tightened, and the wrench is nowhere to be found.

“Cregan?” Rio says uncertainly, peeking through the cornstalks as they bend in the wind. “Hey, Cregan? Aemond’s sorry he was a bitch to you earlier. He wants you to return ASAP and do manual labor for him.” Aemond grimaces; Rio beams in reply. But Cregan does not appear.

You can hear them long before you reach the farmhouse, muffled chaotic chattering, raised voices and rushing footsteps. As you ascend the steps of the front porch, Rhaena bursts through the door.

“Thank God you’re back,” she says; there is blood on her hands. “It’s Jace, he…he…come look at him. Aemond, you have to do something. He’s sick, he’s really sick. He’s bleeding.”

“From where?” Aemond asks, urgent, bewildered.

“From everywhere,” Rhaena replies, and beckons for him to follow.

The bedsheets Jace is swathed in are blooming with crimson, flowers of doomed gore. Blood drips from his nostrils and his eyes; when he retches into the popcorn bucket, clots of pink and red spew out. Everyone is gathered around him and speaking at the same time, except Helaena. She is crouched on the floor of the hallway just outside his room, her arms wrapped around her bent knees and her face stricken. Ice curls up beside her.

Above the other voices, Baela screams at Aemond, a desperate horrified moan: “What’s wrong with him?!”

Aemond pushes by the others and feels Jace’s forehead, then grabs his wrist to measure his pulse. As Aemond’s fingers tighten, Jace’s skin rips beneath them, the top layer sliding off and leaving only glistening, raw pink. Jace howls, tears of blood streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know,” Aemond says, his voice unsteady.

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?!” Baela shouts back. “You’re a doctor! Fix him!”

“It hurts, Aemond,” Jace gasps, fresh blood on his teeth. When Baela touches his hair, locks of it fall out into her hand.

“He’s turning, right?” Rio says to you. “This is what happened to Snowflake, the blood and the skin and everything—?”

“He wasn’t bitten!” Luke insists, positioned in front of Jace’s bed as if he’s guarding it.

“I don’t care if we can’t find a bite mark, he’s decomposing for Christ’s sake, what the fuck else could it be?!”

Daeron returns with more blankets and towels. Aegon grabs a strawberry Pedialyte out of Rio’s grasp and tries to help Jace drink it. Cregan is muttering: “I ain’t never seen anything like this…”

Decomposing, you think dizzily. He wasn’t bitten, but he’s falling apart…what else does that to a person?

Baela cleans blood from his lips, a towel turning from snow to rubies. “Jace, baby, it’s going to be okay, we’re going to help you…”

“Could it be rat poison or something?” Cregan is saying. “Rabies? Mad cow disease? Ebola?”

“How the fuck do you think he got Ebola?!” Aemond exclaims. “You think he took a jet to sub-Saharan Africa when he was on his own? Use your brain.”

“I’m just trying to come up with ideas here, doc, and I don’t see you with any bright ones!”

He’s decomposing. He’s decomposing.

And then you remember. You kneel down beside the bed so you can look into his face, so you can make him pay attention. “Jace, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” he replies faintly. He coughs, wet and gurgling. Fresh blood paints his lips. There are blisters beginning to form up and down his arms, you see now, the skin bubbling and separating.

“Jace, do you remember Three Mile Island?”

“What the fuck.” He is baffled, dismissive. “Three Mile what? Huh? What are you talking about…?”

“You’re upsetting him,” Baela says fiercely, tears glittering in her eyes.

But you are determined. “Outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, after we left Fort Indiantown Gap. There were these huge concrete cooling towers. We saw them from the Wawa parking lot.” But he wasn’t there when we talked about radiation. He was still inside searching for guns. “Remember, Jace? Do you remember?”

Now Aemond and Rio are looking at you, petrified, realizing what you must be thinking. No one else understands yet. After a long pause, Jace nods feebly. “Yeah. I remember the towers.”

“Good,” you say, smiling to encourage him. “Okay, this is important. After we lost you at the river, before you found us again, did you see anywhere that looked like Three Mile Island?”

“Yeah,” Jace murmurs as he stares back at you with glazed, bloody eyes; and Rio sighs and shakes his head. “I drove right by it on the Honda. The sign said Byron.”

And it’s been over for him since that moment.

“Alright, Jace.” You want to touch him, to embrace him or cup his cheek. You know it will only make his suffering worse. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted to ask.” He begins to gag again, and Baela hurries to place the popcorn bucket so it can catch his liquefying organs. You turn around and walk through the doorway.

“What’s happening?” Aegon asks you, hushed voice, frantic eyes. He has followed you to the living room, along with Aemond, Rio, and Cregan. You nod to Aemond. He knows.

“It’s radiation sickness,” Aemond says, low and bleak.

“What?!” Aegon gapes at him. “I mean, are you sure…?”

“It fits all the symptoms. He was in close proximity to a nuclear power plant, something the rest of us have intentionally avoided. If there was a meltdown, there are miles and miles that are poisoned with radiation. Passing by on a motorcycle could definitely result in a lethal dose.”

“Poor guy,” Rio says. “Not a good way to go.”

“No,” you agree. It isn’t.

“So how do you treat something like that?” Cregan asks Aemond.

“It can’t be treated,” Aemond replies tersely. “Not here, not by me, not by anyone. Not even if the world was normal again.”

“What do you mean it can’t be treated?! Everything can be treated nowadays! Cancer, heart attacks, diabetes, hell, my cousin got testicular cancer and he was fine a month later, he even got to keep one of his balls!”

“Radiation sickness can’t be treated. He’s going to die.”

“But how is that possible when—?!”

“I need you to try to not be stupid for five minutes,” Aemond snaps.

You say quietly: “He’s not stupid, Aemond. He just doesn’t know about this.”

“You are always defending him.”

“Because not going to med school isn’t a character flaw.”

Cregan asks mildly, looking at Aemond: “Could you explain it to me?”

“It’s pennies in a jar, man,” Rio says. “Radiation stacks up and at a certain point it kills you. It destroys your DNA and your body falls apart. You can get it just by going near someplace contaminated, and you might not even feel it happen. And there’s no way to undo the damage. The pennies never leave the jar.”

Cregan raises an eyebrow at Aemond. “Was that so difficult?”

Aemond ignores him. “We have to tell Jace,” he says instead.

Back in the bedroom—a mineral stench in the air, coppery blood and the salt of sweat—Aegon sits on the edge of the bed and takes one of Jace’s swelling, blistering hands carefully in his own.

“Don’t hold my hand, you loser.” Jace mumbles, and Aegon respectfully releases him.

“Jace,” Aegon begins. “We think you have radiation sickness.”

Jace blinks up at him, wincing and disoriented. “Which means…?”

“Which means, um, it’s going to be…not great.”

“Why are you the person explaining this?”

“You’re right, I really shouldn’t be explaining it. Can someone else explain it…?” Aegon glances around hopefully.

“Jace,” Aemond says. “Those cooling towers you drove by were part of a nuclear power plant that melted down when the power grid collapsed. You received a fatal dose of radiation. It’s the only thing that explains what’s happening to you.”

“Fatal…?” Daeron ventures.

Rhaena gasps and reaches for Luke. Baela’s face is a mask of numb shock. Jace stares up at Aemond for a long time before he speaks. “Aemond, fix me.”

Aemond’s words are brittle and fracturing. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Stop fucking around, man, you’re a doctor. You can fix me. I know you can. You’re a genius. You’re a total freak but you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Give me the pills, give me the shots. Cut me open if you have to. I won’t scream, I promise. Fix me. I trust you.”

“Jace, I can’t do anything. No one can.”

“I have to meet the baby, Aemond,” Jace whispers, scarlet tears bleeding down his cheeks. “I have to be here for Baela and Luke. Fix me, man. I’ll do anything you tell me to.”

“Jace,” Aemond says, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I can’t help you.”

Jace looks to Baela, Luke, Rhaena, and at last back to Aemond. “How long?”

“Not very. A few days, maybe.”

“Days?” he echoes, dazed. “What happens?”

Aemond shakes his head. You don’t want to know.

“Yeah I do. Tell me.”

Aemond can’t respond; clear silent tears snake down the right side of his face. Rio answers for him. “You continue to bleed out of every orifice and the rest of your skin falls off. And eventually you die.”

Jace breaks down in sobs. “I was trying to find you guys.”

Suddenly, Baela turns to you and Rio and Aemond, wrathful, hissing. “This is your fault.”

Aemond pleads: “Baela, please don’t—”

“You made me leave him at the river. I knew he was still alive, but you forced me to leave him. If he’d been with us, this never would have happened. But he was alone, and it was because of you. You did this to him. You stole him from me.”

Rhaena tries to console her. “Baela, no one meant to—”

“I just got him back!” she screams, and then shelters Jace in her arms as he clings to her, the skin of his fingers and palms flaking at the pressure, holding onto her anyway. No one knows what to say; everyone has tears burning in their eyes and embers in their throats. “Get out,” Baela demands. “Leave us alone. This is the last time I’ll ever have with him and it’s your fucking fault. So get out.”

And you leave them to their final moments, failing flesh in a dying world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Only Luke and Rhaena flit in and out of the bedroom, carrying soiled linens and the plastic popcorn bucket to be periodically emptied. The rest of you are engrossed in a grim, thunderstruck deathwatch in the living room. You discuss the inevitable in hushed murmurs. It is cruel to let Jace suffer; it is unspeakably horrible to let Baela witness it. Ice alternates between receiving scratches from Cregan, Helaena, and Aegon, never trying to enter Jace’s room. You can hear Jace and Baela talking in there, his retching and groaning, her sobs.

It is not until dusk that Rhaena summons Aemond. Luke is weeping as he paces back and forth in the bedroom. Baela is still sitting on the bed with Jace, resigned now. She does not apologize, but she doesn’t have any more venom to spit either. The rest of you watch from the hallway, keeping a respectful distance. Ice nudges your hand with her nose, but you ignore her. Jace’s bloody eyes roll to Aemond.

“I’m keeping you here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Aemond replies. There’s no point in lying.

“And I don’t need to feel myself melting like this for days. I get the idea.” Jace looks at Aemond for a while. His voice is anemic but calm; there are fresh blisters on his face and neck. “What can you give me?”

Aemond opens his medical kit and shows Jace the vial of morphine. “I found this at the pharmacy today. It would be painless, like going to sleep and never waking up.”

“Why do you have that?”

“I was thinking a small amount might help Baela during labor.”

“Is it the only morphine in your kit?”

“Yes.”

Jace nods. “Save it for Baela.” His gaze drops to the Glock in the holster at Aemond’s waist. “Can I borrow that?”

Rhaena stifles a dismayed yelp. Baela closes her eyes, but does not protest. Aemond says: “I don’t think you want to do this.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Cyclops,” Jace says, smiling. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s heavy,” Aemond warns. He clicks off the safety and gives the Glock to Jace. “Are you able to use it by yourself?”

“It’s a very simple two-step process. Barrel to skull, finger on the trigger. I think I’ll manage.”

Again, Ice bumps her nose against your knuckles; again, you barely notice. Baela kisses Jace on the mouth, her lips coming away bloody. Rhaena says goodbye to him, then Luke, whispered parting words you don’t try to listen to. Before Aemond exits, Jace grasps his hand.

“Take care of my family, Aemond.”

“I will.”

“Don’t let the zombies eat me afterwards.”

And then it becomes real. Aemond’s composure falters. “Jace…I’m so sorry…”

“Go,” Jace urges him. Then there is a coughing fit, fresh blood and pieces of stomach and lungs. “Right now. Before I lose my nerve.”

Baela is the last one to leave the bedroom; she shuts the door behind her. Almost immediately afterwards is a deafening bang. Baela sinks to the floor and wails, one hand on her belly, the other embracing Rhaena and Luke when they rush to her. Ice is whining and pawing at the floor, her nails screeching on the hardwood. Aemond alone returns to Jace’s bedroom and reappears with his Glock. He places it back in his holster, his scarred face vacant. There’s blood on his fingers, you see. Jace’s blood, the last he’ll ever shed. Aemond hasn’t noticed yet.

You reach for Aemond’s hand; he flinches away. You ask him, pained: “Do you think if you don’t touch me, it won’t hurt you when I die?”

“Please don’t say that,” Aemond responds in a hoarse, splintering whisper.

Ice yowls, and Cregan is abruptly aware of her. “Oh shit, the Tahoe is still up on the jack. I’ll go get it.” He opens the front door. Under the moonlight, there are upwards of a hundred zombies stumbling down the long gravel driveway. Everyone begins screaming. Cregan slams the door shut and shoves one of the couches in front of it. “What now?!”

“We go through the cornfield,” Aemond says as you are all frantically gathering your sparse possessions. “It will be more difficult for them to see us. We kill as many as we can and we make our way to the Tahoe. Cregan, how long will it take you to get it ready to drive?”

“Maybe a minute. But I’ll need someone to spot me while I tighten the lug nuts.”

“Sounds like my kind of job opportunity,” Rio says, pumping his Remington. Helaena gives you a flashlight. Cregan secures the lug wrench under his belt and picks up his axe. Rhaena has her Ruger out and is telling Baela to breathe, to stay focused, to let her and Luke lead the way.

Aemond comes to you and leans in close so the others can’t hear. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Not enough. Maybe fifty.”

“Do what you can. Stay near Rio.”

“I’ll try.”

Now there are zombies at the front windows, beating their spongy swamp-colored palms against the glass. Baela, Rhaena, and Luke are leaving through the back door with Daeron; you can hear the whizzing of his arrows and the sick soft sound they make when they pierce rotting meat. Under the weight of so many hands, one of the living room windows pops from its frame and clatters against the floor. You open fire, bullets exploding skulls and spraying brains, corpses jolting and then diving to the ground. You shoot until both M9s are empty, then pause to reload, boxes of bullets that Cregan gave you back in Iowa.

“Let them in,” Helaena says.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Aegon shouts at her. He’s firing his Marlin .22 beside you, quite poorly; Rio and Aemond are in the backyard killing any zombies that find their way towards the cornfield. “We’re not letting them get through the house!”

“Not through,” Helaena says placidly. “In.”

“Oh.” Aegon understands. “Oh! I get it! Trap them inside!” He races to the kitchen and tears the remaining bottles of Grey Goose vodka out of the cabinet, then begins spilling them onto the wood floor. “Helaena, give me a lighter.”

She places one in his outstretched palm and then leaves with Cregan as he escorts her away, leading her by her fragile hand. They vanish together into the cornfield, Ice on their heels.

“Time to go, Chips!” Rio booms; he can’t be far behind Cregan.

“We’re on our way!”

Zombies are pouring through the front of the house; another window has given way. You pull the trigger over and over again as you move with Aegon towards the backyard, his clear river of vodka drawing a path from one end of the house to the other. You hit the grass before he does, then wait for him by the edge of the cornfield. Aemond and Rio are shouting for Aegon to hurry up. He crosses through the threshold, flicks the lighter to life, and throws it into the house. His plan works—the farmhouse is abruptly aflame, cooking zombies like long-spoiled hams—but he neglected to realize that in his haste, he had also accidentally doused his own left leg and Sperry Bahama sneaker. The fire licks up over Aegon’s skin and blazes there radiantly. He shrieks and falls to the ground. Rio yanks his own shirt off and uses it to smother the inferno, then throws Aegon over one shoulder to carry him.

“Go to Cregan!” Rio tells Aemond, shoving him in the direction of the Tahoe. Rio will be slower now, but no one else could still run with Aegon’s added weight. “You and Daeron spot him until I get there!” When Aemond is gone, Rio glances back at you.

“I’m fine,” you say, felling zombies as they round the house. “Get Aegon to the car!” And Rio listens to you like he always does, vanishing with Aegon through the cornfield.

You weave through the leafy stalks, investigating each growl and rustling with the beam of your flashlight. Grotesque, fetid faces plunge through the greenery, and you demolish them. You’re in the rhythm now, wheeling for a target and locking in, squeezing the trigger and watching ghoulish faces disappear. And then you spy a zombie lurching towards you from fifteen feet away, a twenty-something in a red Nebraska Cornhuskers t-shirt making her way down the dirt aisle between two rows of corn; and when you pull the trigger, there is only a dry click in reply. Your other M9 is already empty. You’ve used all the ammo Cregan gave you.

“I’m out of bullets,” you say, but no one hears you; you are alone. Aemond always told you to stay near Rio and you never did. Too late, you realize what an oversight that has been. “Rio? Aemond?!”

There are human voices and gunshots, but reverberating from a distance. Far closer are snarls and groans of the dead. You click off your flashlight, drop to the earth, and crawl until you are as far under a row of corn as you can be, long leaves tickling the back of your neck and damp soil in your nostrils. Clumsy, lumbering footsteps trod by you. From the road, you hear the Tahoe’s engine start with a rumble.

They’re leaving.

You shake your head, here with no one to see you in the dark. Still, the thought persists.

They’re leaving. I left my family and now my family is leaving me.

“Chips, stay where you are!” Rio shouts. “We’re coming back, we’ll find you!”

You wait until they are within ten feet of you, Rio cracking skulls with his Remington—he must be out of bullets too—and Aemond firing his Glock. “I’m here, I’m here!” you cry, and they are lifting you up from the dirt and dragging you towards Tahoe, and Aemond puts his pistol in your hand knowing you can do more good with it. You fire ten rounds before the Glock is empty, and you think with terror: Do any of us have bullets left?

Then you are being helped into the Tahoe, and the second all the doors are shut Rhaena floors the gas pedal, heading west on State Route 92.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I got my drugs after all,” Aegon rasps as Aemond injects him with morphine on the floor of a laundromat on the edge of Merna, Nebraska, far enough to escape the zombies, not so far that the Tahoe risks running out of gas before you reach the next town. His left leg is burned from the knee down, and burned badly: skin, fat, muscle, blood-red scorched ruin. Even through the modest dose of morphine—Aemond is terrified of accidentally killing him—Aegon can still feel what has happened to him. He knows it’s bad. He knows it could be the last mistake he ever makes. “I’m so thirsty…”

“I got you, Honey Bun,” Rio says, and then uses the butt of his Remington to bust open the vending machines and bring him bottles of Powerade. Baela is sobbing in the corner with Luke and Rhaena. Helaena is shining a flashlight on Aegon’s leg so Aemond can see. Daeron and Cregan are keeping watch by the entrance. You don’t even know why. All the bullets and arrows are gone, Aegon can’t walk, the Tahoe’s gas tank is nearly drained. If you are descended upon now, what will you do?

Aegon sobs and clutches for you, links his arms around your waist, rests his head in your lap. You hold him and comb your fingers through his unruly hair over and over again, like a compulsion, like a ritual. You are so afraid to let go of him. You are terrified he’ll disappear.

I wish I knew what to say. I never know what to say.

He’s shaking uncontrollably as Aemond cleans his leg: peeling away dead skin, wiping down the raw flesh with disinfectant. Aegon’s eyes are wide and glassy. There is blood on the white tile floor, pinkish lymph fluid, bits of charred skin. Ice is whimpering, her muzzle propped on her paws and her eyes darting around the room. Aegon manages through the pain, a reedy, gasping whisper: “Tell me about all those places you went when you were in the Navy.”

You can see it like the miles-deep blue of his eyes: the Indian Ocean, the jewel-tone equatorial sky. “On Diego Garcia, they have these birds called red-footed boobies—”

Aegon barks out a weak laugh. “They do not. You’re making that up.”

“No, really, I swear! They’re like seagulls, but they have blue on their face and bright red feet, hence the name. They’re extremely stupid, and one night a few of us were hanging out drinking Guinness and playing pool, and a booby flew in through an open window. We panicked, it panicked, and then it was flying in circles and couldn’t get out. We opened all the doors and windows, and the booby still just flew around banging into the walls. And of course the whole time it was shitting and bleeding and getting feathers everywhere, we knew it was going to take hours to clean up. After thirty minutes of chasing this idiot bird around, Rio snapped, took off his boot, and smacked the booby with it. He was trying to fling it out the window, like hitting a tennis ball with a racket, but he accidentally hit the bird too hard and murdered it. Its beak literally separated from its body and flew across the room. None of us could believe it, we didn’t even know that was possible. Rio felt so bad he started crying. We took the booby—and its beak, of course—out to the beach for a Viking funeral. We made it a little raft of coconut tree leaves, set it on fire with a lighter, and pushed it out into the waves.”

Aegon is cackling. “Bryan Osorio, terrorizer of the homicidal undead and boobies!”

“What else?” Baela says, and you look over at her, startled. The flashlight incandescence turns you all to ghosts, phantoms, half-shadows. At first you don’t know what she means. “What else did they have on Diego Garcia?”

“Oh, tell them about the coconut crabs,” Rio prompts you. He’s settled down beside Aegon and is resting one broad hand on his trembling shoulder.

“Coconut crabs?” Rhaena asks you, wiping tears from her cheeks with her delicate, small-boned fingers.

You are abruptly aware that you have an audience. You can feel yourself shrinking beneath their gazes. “Rio should tell the story. I’m not good at it.”

“Sure you are,” Rio says, smiling kindly beneath dark, wet eyes. “Go on. Tell them.”

So you do.

[blueeyedbblondie]

Losing more hair than weight?

Well me too but this is supposed to help

(nutrients and where to find them)

Iron:

beef

pork

fish and seafood

legumes

green vegetables

nuts

dried fruit

Zinc:

Nuts

legumes

grain products

fish and seafood

pork

liver

beef

lentils

peanuts and walnuts

Iodine:

seafood

seaweed

dairy products

chicken

eggs

banana

Protein:

Beef

chicken

fish

eggs

low-fat quark

low-fat yogurt

milk

seeds

soybeans

peanut butter

nuts

oatmeal

tofu

Vitamins:

A

Carrots

sweet potatoes

pumpkin

red peppers

kale

spinach

lamb's lettuce

honeydew melon

apricots

mango

B

meat

fish

eggs

milk

D

fatty fish (including herring, mackerel, salmon)

H

Liver

egg yolk

oats

wheat germ

nuts

mushrooms

soybeans

tomatoes

spinach

potatoes

fish

grains

I know that not everything is the lowest in cal but ✨️the more you know✨️, pick what you are comfortable with💗

[mikichko]

i have been laughing my ass off all day at these setsubun day videos and all i can think is that nanami would do this for his kids too

obviously he wants his children to learn about japanese culture, along with the danish bits he got from his mom, so he decides to dress up.

what he didnt anticipate was your daughter’s reaction.

she takes one look at him in the mask and just takes off running and screaming at the top of her lungs. doesn’t even look at yuuji (yes he’s here too, he’s adopted) when he tries to give her the bowl of soybeans to throw at him, just immediately takes off.

you’re trying to call her name in between giggles but all you hear in response is her screaming as she moves around the house. you’re really trying to keep it together since you’re recording for your family back home but you lose it once she’s back within eyesight.

she managed to do a loop around the house, picked up one of your slippers in the process, and was heading straight for nanami. continues to ignore yuuji and the bowl of soybeans, choosing to start smacking nanami with your slipper.

nanami, goes bless his heart, just takes it like a champ. dont get me wrong, he’s so surprised his sweet angel baby girl started attacking him but he instantly starts cowering. backing up and trying to open the door with one hand while she keeps smacking him and he tries not to laugh.

finally he manages to get out the door and your daughter finally stops yelling. just standing there huffing and puffing at the door while you and yuuji try to regain your composure. she still keeps the slipper on her in case he’s coming back.

a moment later nanami steps back in with his hair disheveled and some little red indents on his face (from where she smacked the mask into him). your daughter instantly brightens up and runs to him arms wide open.

“papa I scared away away a demon!”

he lets out a laugh and bends down to scoop her up, “is that who i saw running out of here? he seemed pretty scared coco, you must have done a really good job”

she just beams up at him, “i did my best papa! because you told me to be brave and protect mama when you’re not here!”

nanami just melts and gives her such a loving look before pressing his lips to her forehead, “you did so well coco, i’m so proud.”

tiktoks that inspired this: (x) (x) (x) (x)

[winterspiderpurrs]

Farm au!!! Tony and Stephen are married and have been for years (like old bickering couple but still kiss like teenagers). A few years ago they hired Peter to work the farm, but now he is pretty much their adopted son😌😌

Steve and Bucky also work for them. One or both get their eyes on Peter mayhaps?👀👀 - @professional-benaddict 💗💗

Hi Rafni!! @professional-benaddict Hope you like this!

**************************************************************

" Aw come on guys! I just got back! Give me a day or two to adjust!"

Peter covers his eyes as he moves to go get the basket on the kitchen counter that is used to hold the fresh eggs.

Tony laughs and tosses a pillow over at Peter. He sits up from his spot on the couch where Stephen and him were making out heavily. They had gotten used to Peter not being around, though this still happened when he was before, but they 'tried' to make sure they were fairly descent.

"Tough luck Kid! Now get out of the house! While your out stop and introduce yourself to Steve and Bucky."

Peter shakes his head and laughs, picking up the tossed pillow and throwing it back lightly, hitting Stephen.

"Hey!"

"See you guys later! Gonna feed the chickens and get the eggs and check in on Karen!"

Stephen grumbles to Tony as he pulls him back closer.

" Can't believe you let him name that horse Karen."

Peter wondered away from the main house before heading toward the large chicken coup. The coup was situated next to the smaller house on the property. When Stephen and Tony bought the farm, it was a bit of a retirement project for them both.

They had a handful of horses, cows, some goats, and chickens. They had acres full of corn, soybeans, green beans and their own personal garden that everyone tends to. That one connected the two homes on the property, it had a small pumpkin patch, rows of tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, radishes and turnips.

It was a bit much in the beginning, growing such a variety, but with their access to all the land they were able to divide it up in way to make it work for themselves. And as profits grew, they were able to hire in more help.

Ben Parker worked at the farm before Tony and Stephen bought it. He stayed working with the farm up until two years ago, his last trip into the city he had gotten into a wreck and passed away. They didn't expect Peter Parker to show up a month after, asking if he could work for them. They refused at first, knowing that the kid was in college, and they hadn't wanted him to give up on his dream to work at the farm.

But they both knew that May and Ben were on hard time, even with what they paid Ben. Between them taking in their nephew to raise, May's medical bills even with the insurance they offered. Money would be tight. But Tony was able to convince Peter to work during the summer months, winter break or whenever he was home. That way he could stay in school.

Peter was humming as he started gathering the eggs up out of the coup. The rest of the chickens were out of the coup eating at the feed he had just scattered out into their pen. Once he had checked all the trays for eggs, he covered the eggs he had in the basket up with a cloth.

He went to sit down to watch the hens and roosters run around, the head Rooster who he like to call 'Dodger' because of how much he runs away and dodges getting caught, got in his lap when he heard a voice call out, he looked up toward the smaller house on the property, it served as a guest house and as a place for workers to take a break.

"Hey Kid, What are you doing?"

Smiling, Peter gave an awkward wave.

"Hi! Mr. Stark said he hired new people to help. I'm Peter! Peter Parker"

The guy wiped a thing of sweat off his face with the towel he had around his neck before he nods towards Peter.

"Call me Bucky"

"Nice to meet ya Bucky"

Bucky offers him a small smile, and nods again.

"If your staying later, why don't you join Steve and I for dinner. Since your going to be around for a bit."

"Oh! Yes I mean sure.That sounds great"

"See you then Doll"

It was about an hour later when Peter was heading back with Karen to bring her back to the barn for the evening when he saw someone sitting outside with a couple of the horses.

"Hey! You must be Steve! I'm Peter."

Steve looked up startled out of his thoughts before he offered Peter a smile. Standing up and giving Peter a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you Peter, Tony talks about you often"

Peter laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

"Yeah? Hopefully good things. I'm just bringing in Karen, do you want me to help with Jarvis and Friday?"

"I got them, time I should get them in anyway."

And that is how when Peter knocked on the door of the guest house, both Steve and Bucky were there, trying to open the door for him first.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

On my eleventh birthday, Prime Minister Lu gave me the most incredible miniature city. It was a replica of Xianyang's main square, sculpted from clay and so faithfully painted that every red door and thatched roof was rendered in breath-taking detail. It came with its own enormous, custom-built table, spanning one zhang and five chi in total. The model was clearly meant to be a display item, but I loathed to show it to anyone, not even the other princes. I kept it in my room, and none of the other servants were allowed to dust it, except for Zhao Gao. 

The best part was the buildings were not glued down. They could be moved around like the pieces on a chessboard. I would spend entire afternoons gently picking each one up and weighing them in my hands. I imagined this was similar to what Pangu felt when he opened the heavens and split the earth. I had always wondered why a giant wouldn't go rampaging across the countryside, levelling mountains and stomping towns into splinters just for the thrill of it. No one would have been able to stop him, after all. Now that I had a taste of that power, I felt intensely protective. No harm was allowed to come to Little Xianyang. I accidentally dropped the townhall once and burst into tears over it. Zhao Gao eventually fixed it with some flour paste, and you could barely see the cracks, but it still left me heartbroken. 

This city was perfect. So absolutely perfect. Except for one small thing: there were no people! What good was an empty, uninhabited shell? I didn't want to be the king of silent walls and deserted streets. I wanted my city to be alive and busy, filled with bustling crowds, rumbling wheels, braying animals and the smell of smoke and food. 

That became my new project: populating table-top square. After deliberating the matter with Zhao Gao, we raided the kitchens and returned with several bowls of beans. I had them all arranged according to shape, colour and size. Red kidney beans for the soldiers, black dragon-eyes for the gentry, blue mung beans for the scholars, and white soybeans for the common folk. It was so satisfying to spoon them into the streets and watch them wobble around, almost as if they had a mind of their own. I would have preferred to have more accurate representations of people with unique faces and clothes, but not even Nuwa could create those details on such a small scale. In any case, the beans made up for it by being so numerous and colourful. If I squinted my eyes, I could almost believe I was looking at a crowd from far away. 

The city became a small window into the outside world. An escape I desperately craved. I had been in Qin for over a year, but I was rarely allowed to leave the palace. For once, the Prime Minister and King were in perfect agreement over something. The Crown Prince was not supposed to mingle with the common masses. In an ironic turn of events, I had less freedom in Qin than I did in Zhao, where I was surrounded by enemies who wanted me dead. I could count on one hand the number of times I was allowed to have an outing. How I treasured those bright little moments, preserved so clearly in my mind’s eye like an insect trapped in amber. It's strange to think that since then I’ve become the most well-travel man in the Empire. Perhaps the whole world. I’ve summited the highest peaks and visited each of the four seas. Yet the sight of all those wonders could not match the same thrill I felt as a boy, riding for a whole sichen in a stuffy carriage to travel across the city to visit Grand-Uncle Soandso and Second-Cousin Whatshisname.  

The trips gave me so much inspiration. If I saw a fault somewhere, I would try to come up with ways to improve it. Once, when we were crossing the East Marketplace, it suddenly dawned on me that the roads were always heavily congested. I drew up the curtains and poked my head outside, much to the dismay of Zhao Gao. 

"Your Highness!"

"Oh, hush, I just want to see what's going on." 

"Please lower the curtain, Highness, it isn't proper." 

I rolled my eyes. He could be such an old biddy sometimes, especially with that high-pitched, girly voice. Half the fun was teasing him. "I am the crown prince. Who’s to tell me what is or isn't proper?" 

Zhao Gao glanced anxiously at my mother’s carriage behind us. "My Prince, I beg you. Even if you don't get into trouble, l will!" 

Groaning in annoyance, I dropped the curtain and peeked out the side instead. "There! Happy now?" 

Zhao Gao was not happy but wisely decided to cut his losses. He was only a eunuch, no matter how well-liked, and my patience with him only went so far. 

I squinted out across the sea of heads and horses. It was apparent that the streets were badly designed. There were not enough walkways, and everyone was forced into the same exit and entry points. I spent the remainder of the journey pondering the problem, my mind churning as madly as the clogs in my mother’s loom when it was producing a great length of silk. The minute my carriage stopped at the palace, I was off like a loose arrow with Zhao Gao's long-suffering voice echoing in my ears, "My Prince, please don't run!"

I spent the rest of the evening bustling around my model city, jotting down calculations on my handkerchief. First I measured the streets with my thumb and forefinger. Next I put all the buildings together and measured their total area. To my delight, I saw that the numbers worked out. I could fit a new street, I just needed to be clever about it. That was one of the caveats I’d set for myself. I couldn't get rid of any of the houses-- where would my citizens live, otherwise? Nor could I encroach on any of the neighbouring areas, or shrink the marketplace. With those goals in mind, I got to work widening the  throughfare and reorganized the buildings. Zhao Gao knelt beside me, silently grinding ink and occasionally interjecting helpfully; “you forgot to carry the one, My Prince.” 

By the time I finished the sky was dark and the lamps had been lit, though I had not noticed the servants coming in. Grinning from ear to ear, I stepped away from the table in order to admire my work in its entirety. What had once been a column of numbers had been transformed into reality. I cleared my throat and announced in the grand voice I’d been practicing, "I decree this new marketplace open!" With that, the little bean people rolled happily into the new streets, cheering for their clever king. 

Notes: there's something so deliciously ironic about making ying zheng an idealistic child who dreams of improving his citizens lives with grand infrastructure projects vs what he actually ends up doing.

"What good was an empty, uninhabited shell? I didn't want to be the king of silent walls and deserted streets."

aw don't cry buddy. maybe one day the archeologists will crack Mt Li open and you won't be alone anymore.

Green and blue were referred to by the same word 'qing' 青. The “blue” beans he is talking about are actually green mung beans.

Pangu—a primordial giant who created the world. 

Nuwa—a goddess who created the first humans from clay. 

Dragon eyes – transliteration of longan, the fruit was first recorded in the Han dynasty, but could plausibly have existed during the Qin.

[x-aefx]

ONE TIME THING - BELLA RAMSEY (Final Part!)

Summary: unbeknownst to you, you meet actor Bella Ramsey. You two hit it off but your paths lead two different directions.

Bella Ramsey x female reader

Taglist: @evieguhbyebroski @amberputh @assgardangod @nymwritespoetry @mainslutsblog @obsessedmunson @guacala @that-one-little-soybean @overtrred28

★

★

One week later(ish)

"Daenerys or Jon?"

"Jon"

"who should've ended up on the Iron Throne ?"

"Lyanna Mormont."

"Game of Thrones or the Last of Us?

"impossible question."

"wise choice."

"thank you."

You stared dumbfounded as your best friend fired question after question at Bella. It had been going on for at least ten minutes, you felt sorry for Bella. You and Bella sat on the couch, whilst Aaron sat on the armchair beside it, he leaned forwards in his chair, staring Bella down as he asked her questions he deemed "excruciatingly important."

Bella didn't seem bothered by the almost interview like conversation with Aaron. Rather, they found it amusing.

"can you please stop interrogating my partner, please?" You almost begged. You had been silently watching the ordeal, not expecting it to last this long. You were leaned back on the couch, looking at Aaron unimpressed.

Bella chuckled as they looked at your bored face, Aaron glared at you but nevertheless he stopped with the questions.

"it's important to find out what kind of a person my best friend is dating. You'll be grateful one day, if they turn out to be a murderer." Aaron picked up his empty mug, standing up and going to the kitchen to refill it with coffee.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics.

Bella hummed sarcastically, "I'm afraid I'm just a regular boring person. Not a murderer." They called out after at Aaron.

You watched as Bella turned their body around to face you. They smiled at the almost pitiful smile that you were sending them.

"sorry about him. He's a big fan of your work." You said apologetically.

Bella shook their head, leaning in closer to you and placing a light kiss on your cheek. "I don't mind." They said truthfully, looking up at you and giving you a smile.

You felt your face redden, like it always did. A gesture as small as a smile could make your heart plummet, and your legs give out. You hated it.

Bella rested their head on your shoulder, their body cuddled up to yours on the couch. You wrapped an arm around their waist, as they had theirs around your stomach. Your chin rested on their head.

"seriously? Why have a fridge, if you're not going to put food in it!" Aaron complained from the kitchen. The sound of keys being picked up from the counter was heard, then the sound of footsteps.

"Get chocolate digestives!" You called out, just before you heard Aaron shut the front door after him.

Bella moved their head to look up at you, a raised brow and an amused grin on their face.

"shut up, you eat cereal with orange juice for breakfast." You interrupted whatever remark they were going to say.

Bella groaned. They burried their face in your hoodie, letting out a sound of annoyance. You had told Aaron about the discovery, and since then Bella hasn't gotten a break.

"maybe if you would try it, you would understand why!" Their voice was muffled by the fabric of your hoodie.

You hummed, knowing you would never try it.

Lazily you flicked through the channels on the Tv, not finding anything good to watched you eventually turned it off.

You kept yourself occupied by playing with Bella's rings. They were thick and silver, two on their left hand and one on their right. You twisted them around their finger, admiring the patterns engraved on each of them.

"I always make sure to wear them when I'm doing interviews, or going to any events." Bella spoke up, their face still burried in your hoodie. "they help me when I'm feeling anxious, or need something to fiddle with. But I suppose you'll be with me for that instead. We can stay in a corner together." You felt them smile.

"i can't wait to hide in a corner with you Bella." You laughed, removing your fingers from their rings, and intertwining your hand with theirs instead.

Bella looked up at you with a large grin adorning their face, causing you to smile back just as wide. They leaned up, so their forehead was resting on yours.

"I'm so happy you sat beside me on that bus." They whispered.

"I'm so happy you stalked me at my work place." You smiled teasingly at them. Bella rolled their eyes, but their smile remained.

"It was hardly stalking. It was just a coincidence." Bella shrugged.

You quirked a brow, showing them you didn't believe their words. Bella didn't argue back, knowing you were too stubborn to believe them.

Instead of talking, Bella kissed you. Their kisses were soft and slow, different from how all your previous ex's kissed you. They were gentle, every touch from them sending you into a spiral of nerves. The good kind, the kind you got addicted to.

Bella moved so that they were hovering over you, their hands on either side of you to support their weight. They cupped your jaw with their hand, caressing your face with their thumb. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise as their cold ring met your warm skin.

"I forgot my wallet!"

The silence and peace you and Bella were trapped in, was interrupted by the door swinging open and Aaron's voice filling the home.

You pulled away from Bella, smiling sheepishly at them.

Bella groaned, dropping their head into the crook of your neck. You laughed at their attitude, combing your fingers through their soft wavy hair.

Aaron grabbed his wallet from the kitchen table, before walking out of the house completely oblivious to what he had interrupted and the frustration radiating from Bella.

[hyperculture]

u will notice that nowhere in this evening itinerary did i mention doing the damn dishes

going to the LIBRARY to pick up a STUDY GUIDE and then going home and making myself a CAFECITO

[aeoki]

Sweet Sweet Hunger - Chapter 1

Location: Seisou Hall Common Room Characters: Mitsuru, Nagisa & Niki Season: Autumn Writer: Mai Nishioka

TL Note:

Wagashi is traditional Japanese sweets that have red bean paste and are often served with green tea. 

This is a method used to cut daifuku (rice cake stuffed with fruits or paste). You can view this video (link here) for a better idea how it’s done.

Amanatto/candied natto are beans covered in sugar syrup. Its name is derived from natto (Japanese fermented soybeans) as they look similar.

Momotarou (often translated as Peach Boy) is a traditional Japanese folktale and talks about a boy who is born from a giant peach and goes on a journey to defeat the demons marauding the land he lives in. He befriends three animals along the way by giving them food.

Niki: *Munch munch…*

! Mmm! This cake is absolutely delicious~♪

Let’s see… The sponge cake is fluffy and just melts in my mouth. It’s also been soaked in a Western liquor and it brings out the flavour of the fruits… There.

Alright, next! I’ve been eating cake after cake so maybe I’ll have some wagashi[1] next.

Eeny meeny miny moe~... alright. I choose you~♪

Oho? I’m supposed to cut this strawberry daifuku with a string[2], right?

I see… I can cut it without destroying the fruit inside and it makes a pretty cross-section too.

This earns more points~ Visuals are important when it comes to food. Only the best chefs are picky about plating.

Alright, time for a bite… *Munch, munch*

! Is this really rice cake?

It’s delicious and melts in the mouth right away…♪ The red bean paste is light and smooth. It's as if I took a bite of a celestial maiden’s robe!

I need to note this down… 

What should I pick next?

Mitsuru: *Sniff sniff* I can smell something nice over there~ It’s calling me over…♪

Niki: Ahh–

Mitsuru: Ah! Shiina-senpai’s eating a mountain of desserts!

Niki: Hmm? *Munch munch… gulp* Oh, Tenma-kun. What’re you doing here?

Mitsuru: I smelled something good after coming down to the first floor and ended up here after following the scent, y’know!

Niki: Huh? Smell? You’ve got the nose of a dog, Tenma-kun~ You might make a good chef if you’ve got such a keen nose.

Mitsuru: What~? No, I prefer eating, y’know! So I’d rather be an eating specialist!

Shiina-senpai, you’re so lucky~! You’ve got so many desserts in front of you. That’s something I’d be seeing in my dreams, y’know? *Drool* ♪

Niki: Oh. Do you wanna join me? I’ve finished tasting the ones over there, so you’re free to have them.

Mitsuru: Oh, are you sure!? I wanna eat them!

…Hm? But what do you mean by taste? Why’re you doing something like that? It’s a waste to just taste it and not finish them, y’know?

Niki: No no! I wouldn’t do something like that! I would’ve still taken responsibility to eat them all even if you didn’t come along, Tenma-kun.

I was just trying not to fill myself up too quickly. This is my little tasting event that’s both beneficial to me and also something I enjoy doing.

Mitsuru: Tasting event?

Niki: Yup. I have a blog where I post food and dessert reviews and I’ve been getting a lot of views recently~

I figured I should post more often, so I decided to hold a tasting event where I taste everything all at once.

Mitsuru: Oh! I know about that! Your blog is called “Hearty Appetite All Year Round”, right?

I’ve read it too~! All the food you recommend looks delicious, so it’s so much fun reading it, y’know? ♪

Niki: Ohh~ You’ve read my blog? I’m flattered ♪

Well, anyway, that’s why I’m trying out all these desserts. I’ve prepared a lot, so you’re welcome to eat them once I’ve finished tasting them.

I’ve been thinking recently that it’s pretty nice to share and eat them with someone else.

Mitsuru: Yaaaay ♪ Thanks a bunch, Shiina-senpai!

Niki: Don’t mention it. I’m an adult now too~ I have no issues sharing my food.

I’ve been feeling less stressed mentally and stomach-wise now that my food expenses are balanced. So this is what it means to become an adult, huh…

Mitsuru: Ahaha, you’re so weird~ I don’t understand what you’re saying, Shiina-senpai!

Alrighty, I’m gonna try this one ♪ *Munch munch*

Mmm~!? What the–!? I’ve never had anything so good! It’s fluffy and tastes expensive, y’know~!

Niki: Right~? But these madeleines weren’t actually that expensive.

Madeleines were originally pretty well-known amongst the locals here, but its popularity suddenly skyrocketed throughout the entire country last night.

Mitsuru: Really~? If they’re cheap, I’d love to have heaps more, y’know!

Hm? Hey, Shiina-senpai. What’s that? Candied natto[3]?

Niki: Oh, good eye, Tenma-kun~! Didn’t think that would catch your eye.

This is something that’s only available over the counter and on their online store~

They’re almonds that are coated with coffee and fresh cream.

Mitsuru: Hmm? Coffee? I don’t think I like bitter stuff.

Niki: It’s not bitter at all~ There’s not much of a coffee flavour to it…

There’s a slight bitterness and it goes perfectly with the sweetness. You won’t be able to stop once you try one~!

Mitsuru: Now I’m starting to get excited, y’know! I’ll give it a try~!

Nagisa: …You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves. Having a little dessert party?

Niki: Oh, Ran-kun. Hey, there.

I’m trying out a whole bunch of different desserts for my food blog.

Tenma-kun came along since he smelled them and now we’re eating them together.

Mitsuru: Yeah! I’ve become buddies with Shiina-senpai and we’re eating desserts together, y’know!

Nagisa: …Hehe. Seeing you befriend each other over food is just like the scene from the Momotarou[4] story. 

…Your food blog is pretty popular, Niki-kun. Ibara has told me he reads it.

Niki: Wow, the Vice President reads my blog? That’s a surprise~ I didn’t think he’d be interested in food.

Nagisa: …Yeah. I don’t think he reads it as a hobby but rather, he uses it as reference when purchasing gifts for others.

Niki: Oh, that makes sense. Come to think of it, I’ve got a lot of comments that say something similar.

Nagisa: …Hmm. You’re having a tasting event? There are so many desserts in front of you.

…Hm? You have so many but you don’t have “tiantian” that’s trending right now?

Niki: “T–Tiantian”...?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNext Chapter →

[onlyangel4]

the life i deserve. part four. LN4. OP81

in which reader unexpectedly falls pregnant but her current boyfriend can't say no to his party lifestyle so he leaves her. who better to fill his place than his teammate.

warnings- pregnancy. angst. birth.

faceclaim: hailey bieber

part one // part two // part three

part five

f1wags

liked by user15, user16, user17 and 87,283 others

f1wags: lando norris spotted with a girl on a night out in monaco. we do not know who this mystery girl is, we hope y/n is okay with this news

view all 6,829 comments

user15: isn't y/n literally about to pop, shouldn't he be worried about his child

user16: god poor y/n

user17: i hope she makes him wear a condom

piastrisightings posted a story

written: oscar piastri spotted outside a hospital in new york, we hope y/n is okay

f1gossip posted a story

written: logan and riley have arrived in nyc, i think it is safe to say that y/n has gone into labour. still no sight of lando.

y/ninsta

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,203,034 others

y/ninsta: me and you against the world

introducing, luka jack y/ln who decided to enter this world eight weeks early but he is doing brilliantly and i truly am in new born bliss

view all 179,938 comments

oscarpiastri: you amaze me

y/ninsta: thank you for being there

rileywhittall: i am so in love with him

y/ninsta: was he worth missing half your holiday

rileywhittall: he is worth so much more

logansargeant: you and him are so loved

y/ninsta: you are going to make me cry mister sargeant

georgerussell3: i can't wait to meet the little man

y/ninsta: he can't wait to meet you either

fernandoalo_official: so proud of y/n

y/ninsta: thank you nando

user18: guys the middle name

user19: i know, her picking oscar's middle name for him is so special

kevinmagnussen: you are going to be a brilliant mother

y/ninsta: that means a lot coming from the best dad i know

user20: kind of shady not using lando's last name

user21: mate he wasn't even there for his birth, y/n owes him nothing y/ninsta liked this comment

rileywhittall posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: my first godson is the most perfect little boy, y/n i am so proud of you

oscarpiastri posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: so incredibly proud of you

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