#the closest I have for now is that one tiny vegetable market

[scatterbrainedart]

The most haunted guy at the grocery store fr

Based on a not yet written scene from a fanfic I’m working on

[naturecoaster]

Get Picking Blueberries Now at the Farm for Fun and Health in 2023

Walking into the field, with its long, straight rows of three- to four-foot-tall blueberry bushes laden with fruit is a spiritual experience for me. Right at shoulder height are bundles of green (don’t pick 'em), blue, and deep purple orbs full of sweet juice and firm flesh that make my mouth happy! I start by walking up to the field’s caretaker in the fresh, clean air. Greeted with a “Welcome. Do you need a bucket?” I thank them and tie the white container around my waist, make sure I have plenty of drinking water and reply, “Where’s the best area to pick today?” After choosing the best location, I venture out into one of the most peaceful places on earth for me: the blueberry field. My close-toed shoes will protect my feet from ants, sand, stinging nettle, or creepy crawlies, my hat will protect my face from the effects of Florida’s sun, and my appetite will be primed for some of the best eating I have ever enjoyed – just-picked blueberries. I snatch the best-looking berry from the closest bush as I walk by to my chosen starting point and pop it into my mouth. YUM! A burst of sweetness, with a chaser of a tiny tartness explodes on my tongue, providing a healthy, delicious sensation that can only be sated from April to mid-May on the Nature Coast. Best Blueberry Farms on Florida's Nature Coast When choosing a farm to pick your blueberries at, consider the following ones: - Bette’s Blues Blueberry Farm – Citrus Springs - Green Acres You Pick Blueberry Farm – Spring Hill - JG Ranch – Brooksville - Starkey Farms – New Port Richey - Upicktopia – Masaryktown You can click on each link above to see their hours, locations, and additional activities. There are other farms in the region, but these particular farms have worked with NatureCoaster and we trust them. Children love to pick blueberries, making it a great family activity. Image courtesy of Florida Best Blueberry Farm. Did you know that Florida is the eighth largest producer of commercial blueberries in the U.S.? We are blessed to have several commercial and u-pick farms in Pasco, Hernando, and Citrus Counties. Some berry farms include play areas, some have shelters, some have prepicked berries, and some are wide open. Some have blackberries and vegetables available for upick also. The Green Acres You Pick Blueberries Farm is having markets each weekend and they have adorable in the 2023 season. Upicktopia has a winery and restaurant onsite. All have restrooms of some type – often the portable kind. Brooksville is Celebrating with a Blueberry Festival April 29-30 Brooksville's Blueberry Festival features Colt Ford for 2023! There are so many great bands, vendors and activities, we are writing a feature next week. Best of all, we have a Blueberry Festival in Brooksville April 29-30, 2023! Next week, we will write about this exciting event with music headliner, Colt Ford, over 320 vendors, nonprofits providing crafts and fun for the kiddos, and activities like a blueberry eating contest, Mr. & Ms. Blueberry pageants, blueberry shortcake, blueberry wine, blueberry beer, and more! And its FREE! How Blueberries become a Commercial Crop in the Nature Coast Blueberries began being grown commercially in Florida in the 1970s, with University of Florida developing a southern highbush variety that launched the industry in 1976 called “Sharpblue.” Sharpblue is the foundational cultivar for southern highbush blueberry production. In 1996, UF brought out Star, which offered early ripening and high-fruit quality. Jewel came in 1998. 1999 brought the Emerald variety, which is well-adapted to Central Florida, and the most commonly grown blueberry variety in Florida. Snowchaser came on the scene in 2005, and as one of the earliest-ripening southern highbush varieties in the world, giving farmers the ability to grow high-quality fruit in a window when market prices are often high. Its fruit has excellent flavor and aroma, and it has performed well in evergreen production systems which is quite important as we are seeing temperatures climb each year. Farmers make money both by the quantity of produce grown and by the price that fruit gets. The price per pound is based on supply and demand. If the market is flooded with produce, the per pound rate will be lower than if it is difficult to get. Size and quality of produce adds into the mix also. Many local farms have planted several blueberry varieties to provide fresh fruit for several weeks. Picking blueberries is a fun family activity with great health benefits. University of Florida has created several southern highbush varieties to help farmers capitalize on the commercial market. Image courtesy of Cavallo Farm. All About Blueberries: Random Blueberry Facts Blueberries are ranked No. 1 in antioxidant activity compared out of 40 commercially available fruits and vegetables. That means a serving of blueberries has more of the antioxidant power you need to fight aging, cancer, and heart disease. 1 cup of blueberries normally weighs about 143 grams, or 1/3 of a pound, so 1 pound of blueberries is almost 3 cups’ worth. Many recipes call for 3 to 4 cups of blueberries for a 9-inch pie. 1 cup (143 grams) of blueberries is 84 calories. Blueberries contain no cholesterol or fat and are also low in calories. Blueberries are high in dietary fiber, Vitamin A, and niacin. They contain iron and other trace minerals and are a fair source of Vitamin C. Blueberries have a diverse range of micronutrients, with notably high levels  of the manganese, vitamin B6, vitamin C, vitamin K and dietary fiber. One serving provides a relatively low glycemic load score of 4 out of 100 per day. In wild species, blueberries have been found to contain anthocyanins, other antioxidant pigments, and various phytochemicals possibly having a role in reducing risks of some diseases, including inflammation and different cancers. Researchers have shown that blueberry anthocyanins, proanthocyanidins, resveratrol, flavonols, and tannins inhibit cancer cell development and inflammation in the womb. Some blueberry species contain significant levels of resveratrol in their skins, a phytochemical with increasing evidence as an anti-cancer compound. Whenever you go to a farm, follow the tips below to get the most from your experience. Image by David Collins. Practical Tips for Getting the Most from Your Blueberry U-Pick Experience Call the Farm before you Visit – Make sure the farm you plan to visit has the fruit you’re looking for available for picking when you want to visit and that they are not having weather issues. Protect yourself – Bring water and wear a hat, plenty of sunscreen, close-toed shoes, and clothes that you don’t mind getting a little stained with blueberry juice. Long sleeves protect you from too much sun exposure – and please REST when you get tired. Be aware that dehydration can make you sick. Pick One bush at a time – Find a bush with plenty of ripe berries and stick with it until you’ve picked it clean. This can be difficult, as another bush’s fruit may lure you, but you’ll save more energy for picking if you’re not moving around a lot, and you’ll leave other bushes in better condition for your fellow pickers. Get in there – Don’t just pick the berries from the very front of the bush. The best clusters of plump, ripe berries are often on the undersides of branches. Be Gentle with the Fruit – The best way to pick blueberries is to roll the berries between your thumb and the palm of your hand. The ripe ones easily fall off. Remember, if the berry doesn’t want to leave the bush, it isn’t ripe enough for you! Bring a Cooler – You can carry water up to the farm in the cooler. It can get awfully hot in the car during your picking adventure. On the way home, your fruit will store better in a cooler. How to Wash and Store Blueberries To clean blueberries, put the amount you need in a colander and rinse them under cold water using a gentle spray. Spread the berries out on paper towels and let them air dry for a few hours. If you’re storing blueberries in the refrigerator, don’t wash your blueberries until you are ready to eat them or use them. Moisture from washing causes them to go bad more quickly. Refrigerate fresh berries right after your visit to the blueberry patch. Store them in a large, open bowl or container. Don't forget to pick fresh blueberries, blackberries, stawberries and more in season! Image by Diane Bedard. How to Freeze Blueberries Rinse and dry blueberries before freezing them. Freeze blueberries in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet that fits in your freezer for 30 minutes. Then transfer your berries to a resealable bag. Remove as much air as possible from the bag, label with the date and store the bags flat for stacking. How Long Do Fresh-Picked Blueberries Last? If properly stored, blueberries can last up to 2 weeks in the refrigerator, though they are best when eaten within a week. Blueberries can last up to 10 months in the freezer but retain the most flavor until the 6-month mark. Read the full article

[xinambercladx]

"Oil Fashioned Love Note"

@sinisterexaggerator passed this writing request to me, saying I should write it since Duros' oil sacs and their romantic purpose being my headcanon. So I obliged, and this was way too fun for me, tbh. Enjoy Part 1! ------------------------------------- Chapter 1: Lovesick Duros (part 1)

Cailom Macaim was a young Duros bachelor who grew up on a star ship. His parents were travelers of the stars, and even when his mother laid her fertilized egg, they refused to settle on the orbital cities to raise their little grub. He was a man in his own right now, and the ship that was his home began to feel claustrophobic. It became clear to him it was time to leave the nest and strike out on his own.

His parents had taught him everything he needed to know for space travel, business skills, and communication with various species. His father grasped his hands tightly and gave an encouraging shake. His mother gifted him a sack with carefully packaged goodbye treats. Spiced clot cakes, his favorite. He breathed deeply one last time the recycled air he knew so well, then he stepped out on the sandy beaches of an alien world. He was certain he’d be fine.

This small port town on Mon Cala was nothing special. But the cold pouring rain, the salty smell of the sea, and the roar of crashing waves made an impression he’d never forget. Cailom didn’t shiver. The spray and rain threatened him, but the space suit was immune to the water and kept him dry and warm.

The locals were so unlike him. Mon Calamari had large eyes and bulbous heads with claw like hands. Quarren were squid-like with tiny mouths, but somehow seemed more… frightening. Perhaps it was their small, suspicious eyes. Cailom’s skin was as blue as the sea, while these people were as uncolorful as the sandy floor. These uncolorful folk weren’t so bad. As the months went by he found sailors willing to take him under their wing, teaching him the art of sailing and fishing. The high sea rocked and swelled, and his spirit was filled with adventure every day.

Yet a part of him was empty. Some days he would breathe the salty air and feel invigorated, only later to huff and escape into his bunk, feeling low. Perhaps he was homesick. He had never been on his own before. He had made friends here, began a new life among them.

Something is missing, he thought.

He peered at a hologram of his parents. They smiled with their fangs unbarred, pleasantly, and held each other as couples do. His heart ached. He turned over and had one last thought before falling asleep, Time to go. He found what he was looking for many months and many planets later, winding up on Jedha. He didn’t know it, but he had been restlessly searching not for freedom, but for her.

Cailom stopped in his tracks. He held his breathe, as if it would be a wind that would blow away what he hoped was not an illusion. In the heart of Ni Jedha was a market, and holding a wicker basket filled with fresh vegetables was a young Duros woman. Her eyes were a delicate crimson, almost pink, and her microscales was a lovely purple. It was a full week before he gained the courage to speak to her.

She noticed him when he approached the stall adjacent to the one where she stood. It was the closest he had dared. It was now or never. He took in a deep breath and turned to say hello. She had turned her head, already looking at him, swinging her basket playfully. She lifted a delicate long fingered hand and blew him a kiss. The shock nearly sent him reeling. He gulped. It was definitely now or never. He walked up to her and smiled.

“I was beginnin’ to lose hope you’d ever say hello, Traveler,” she teased. “I thought you’d jump behin’ the black melons again when I blew dat kiss atcha.”

“I have it right here. It fluttered over like a butterfly,” he said, raising his hand holding nothing but an air-blown kiss. “I’m Cailom Macaim. I’d love to hear your name?”

“Zani,” she said, peering up at him with those big rose petal eyes. “Zani Lam.”

They spent that afternoon together dodging the bustling crowds, and learning about eachother. She was a daughter of immigrants from New Teyana. She had the distinct spacer accent, but he found it charming. It was another week before he asked her out on a date. They hit it off far better than he had hoped. Her walk had a sway to it, with her hips begging for his hand to rest on the side.

It was another week before he had the courage to rest his hand there while they walked through the market together. She let him. Cailom couldn’t believe this beautiful woman was by his side. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her. He had dated many girls before, most of which were either human or other common spacer alien species. Non had enraptured him like this. His favorite thing about Zani was her laugh. He would crack a joke just to hear it, but also to see how she’d raise her long fingers to shield her fangs from view. For having lived in a space ghetto, she was incredibly modest and shy.

One night when he walked her home, he held her hand tightly. She hugged his arm, and although Duros females lacked bosoms, she pressed her ribcage against his elbow. It was terribly distracting. He took it as a signal that she might actually like him. When they reached her front door, there was a tension in the air.

There was hope in her eyes, and he noticed they flitted to his mouth for the third time that night, and for the third time, she’d look away as if she were a child having been caught stealing a piece of candy. He didn’t miss it the fourth time, barely a minute later. He reached to catch hold of her cheek before she could look away and gently held her there.

He leaned his head down, touching his rostrum to hers. Then he kissed her, gently, sweetly. He parted lips for a breath, but she pulled him back, tugging on his space suit collar. He rattled gently, and she replied with her own, a slightly higher pitch.

What a cute rattle, he couldn’t help but think, daring to deepen the kiss. ------------------------------------------------------------ "Oil Fashioned Love Note" on Tumblr: Chapter 1: Part 2 ------------------------------------------------------------ Original Oil Sac Headcanon Post w/Cad Bane on Vacay <-click

xInAmberCladx's Fanart Archive <-click

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Are My Home (Geralt x Reader)

This was requested by anon. Enjoy!

The life (y/n) had it was something Geralt often envied, it was a way of living that had nothing to do with him, it was almost like she created her own magical bubble that kept her away from anything harmful, she lived in harmony with everything.

(Y/n) was a farmer's daughter, an only child and her mother passed away when she was young, a few years after she made her first step into adulthood her father also passed, so since she was a little girl her day was filled with taking care of the land and looking after the animals she so much adored. It wasn't the squeezing cow tits and cleaning out the stables that fascinated him, it was the utter bliss you could identify at the twinkle of her eyes, she was in love with her life, the bitterness and greed of the world had graced by her and left her unharmed.

(Y/n) had stumbled across Geralt at the market of the closest town of her home. She sold fruits, milk and vegetables there, still the reason why Geralt noticed wasn't her healthy goods, it was her booming voice as she shouted at a man. 

"If you lay your hands on a child again I will make sure you have no hands to do so!"

As he approached to see what all the fuss was about he saw her. Her hair was nearly pulled back and away from her face, her dress was this beautiful purple color as her hands were on her sides, one breath away from the man's face. Another thing he noticed was the child in question that hid behind her as it clinged on her legs for protection.

"He stole apples from my table"

"You want apples? Here"

She turned and took as many she could hold and started to throw them at the man. He acted out on impulse and stepped in to restrict her, she had a strong fire in her but he would hate to see the obviously taller man harm her.

"That's enough, I think you proved your point"

He said to her as he got in front of her and gently touched her forearms to make her take a few steps back.

"That low life, he almost killed the poor little boy over a few apples"

She muttered as she turned her back on Geralt and kneeled to the kids level. Her hand reached the child's face as she inspected him.

"Are you alright dear? Come with me, I have a bottle of milk for you"

He felt a bit hurt as the girl ignored his presence entirely. As the woman and the child walked over her counter, she instruced the child to sit on the stool as she passed him a bottle of milk. 

The child smiled brightly before chugging the bottle, at that moment of silent Geralt found the courage to speak up.

"I'm Geralt"

"Oh I'm sorry I got completely distracted. I am (y/n), thank you for helping me"

-

After that Geralt felt compelled by her, he would leave her for a short period of time to travel and pick up jobs, yet he always felt the need to come back to her. She was his haven, his safe space to relax, even when compared to him she was this tiny little thing she made him feel protected.

He awoke at the smell of fresh baked goods, he had come to her cottage late at night and exhausted. She only smiled in a sleepy manner and hugged him tight before helping him get into bed with her with no questions or spared words. 

At that time (y/n) walked in the bedroom with a cup in her hand. She was dressed in her white night dress and her hair was down, framing her beautiful face. She sat on his side of the bed as he sat up, the sheets falling from his torso.

"Good morning"

"I believe a good evening is more appropriate. Here, drink this"

She said as she passed the cup to him. (Y/n) loved thyme tea, she always made it for him whenever he came to visit her, the aroma of it made him feel welcomed and now he had linked that smell with her. He remembered how she rambled about how much it helps and nourishes you, he didn't remember what she said exactly but just seeing her so happy and focused on a subject about a simple thing made him smile. 

"Hmmm, what have I done to deserve you?"

He asked before taking a sip of the tea. She giggled at his teasing, he always said that to her, at first she found it funny however she was aware that Geralt thought very low of him, it made her so mad that he didn't see what she was seeing.

"It's the least I could do, you keep us safe"

"It wasn't by choice"

"No one forces you to work Geralt, you go hunting for jobs"

He didn't respond, he was well aware that she had a strong case here. After taking a few sips of the warm liquid he left the cup on the side of his bed before reaching for her hand to caress her soft warm skin. She looked at her hand in his, his skin against hers brought her goosebumps, she tried to hide her smile from him, although Geralt saw it and decided to not comment on it.

"How are things here?"

"Carina gave birth"

"Oh well she was really big last time I saw her"

"She was having a baby cow inside her, I think that's a bit normal"

They had been around enough for her to know what he wanted. She slowly crawled on her side and got under the covers with him, he smiled as he laid back down and rested his head on her breasts while his arms went around her waist bringing her as close as possible. Her fingers went up on his head, slowly caressing his long silver hair she so much adored, for a man that gets covered with monster blood ever so often his hair was soft like silk. 

His warmth made her relax even more as she took a deep inhale and closed her eyes, enjoying his natural scent tingling her nostrils, she never thought a man's smell would bring her such a calm sensation that made her muscles relax completely, the feeling was almost euphoric as she continued to run her fingers through his white mane.

Geralt enjoyed being caressed by her, after years of feeling the touch of a woman only after offering her coins he finally felt he was being cared for, it was something he thought he would never experience. Now here she was making the giant witcher melt in her arms.

"I missed you"

He whispered just enough for her to hear, (y/n) smiled before placing a kiss at the top of his head. Anyone else would laugh at the sight of the big bad witcher snuggling up on a girl and letting her wrap her legs around his torso in order to make him feel protected. She wasn't short but anyone would look small in comparison.

"I missed you too dearest"

Hearing her speak to him in such a delicate and soft way made him feel his stomach twist, in a good way of course. She was what he never knew he missed, she was the warm sun in his gloomy life.

"One day I won't have to leave you"

"One day I will put poison in your tea. Not the deathly kind, maybe paralyze you so you won't be able to leave"

His chest erupted with laughter at her snarky comment, she never phrased her sadness and displeasure when he left her, still he could sense it. It was exactly what he felt so there was a mutual understanding of how much they both hated that departure. He raised his head to look at her as she offered him a warm smile in return

"You are my home"

"Maybe one day my home won't have to slip away from me"

[lemonandpeachess]

Small Moments

Pairing: Wrecker x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:2,220

Summary: You and the squad have a little bit of downtime before completing a job from Cid. This time allow you to think ahead for the future of the squad, and of Omega. 

AN: I hope you all enjoy! This is my first bit of writing in a long time so we’re keeping it pretty simple. xx

Gif credits to the owner <3 

The noise was no stranger to you, the deep and seemingly endless drumming above your head. An icy coolness slips into your skin underneath your clothes, your eyes slipping shut at the sensation. While for the most part you enjoy your time on the ship with your crew and it feels just as much of a home as you could ask for, it did have its drawbacks. The closest thing to a simple rainfall you got to experience while cruising through space were meteor showers, and landing in the middle of one of those was not the most relaxing experience. You feel a small, hand wrap itself into your own, giving it a small squeeze. Your eyes cast down and you smile at the sweet brown eyes peering up at you from beneath wet, blonde curls. Omega has her hood over her head, holding down the side with her opposite hand against the wind.

“I sort of missed the rain (y/n).” She says, looking up at the sky and smiling, the raindrops sprinkling down on the two of you. You lift your head back up, sticking out your tongue. Omega looks at you, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Catching raindrops. You can do it with snowflakes too. We used to do it on my home planet when I was small.” The tiny clone follows your actions, laughing as she lets go of your hand and makes a show of running around you, catching the water droplets from above.

You were thankful that for both the sake of you and the squad, and for Omega herself, that she had taken the business of being a part of the team so seriously. The young one dove into everything that was ever handed to her, from Hunter’s hand to hand combat routines, to Tech and Echo’s near constant technological learning. She was a fighter, and a determined one at that.

Your heart was heavy at times however, thinking about how she was still a child. She should be able to enjoy the things children enjoy. The sweet, small things that with adulthood and the burdens of growing up, we all tended to forget and appreciate. You took it upon yourself to make your training for Omega to be how enjoy things she could not before, to make her feel like she wasn’t restricted, or stripped of her curiosity. You encouraged it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my data shows that the atmosphere on this planet coupled with the local vegetation means excessive consumption of precipitation could lead to harmful side effects.” Tech says as he walks past, guiding his scanner around you as he too gets off the ship. You purse your lips and look down at your small companion once more, chuckling.

“Bit of rain won’t hurt you.” Hunter says as he comes up behind the two of you, handing Omega her small backpack you had found for her at a market during your last job for Cid. You wanted her to have something of her own and found some amenities to put in it as well. Some new fresh clothes, and a small toolkit among other things, including her beloved clone trooper doll. “We should get inside though. Cid said we can stay at her camp here before we continue to the other side of the planet for the exchange tomorrow. We can’t proceed until late morning at least. Best to get some rest while we can.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice Sarge.” Wrecker yells from the belly of the ship. You hear his footsteps as he barrels down the gangway and feel him join you both. He grabs your own pack from your shoulder and puts it over his own, its size shrinking against his broad form. “You and the kid take your time, beautiful. I can take our stuff inside.”

“Wreck I can take that, it’s just a few things.” You laugh, grabbing for your pack. He dodges your efforts and keeps walking forward, turning to wink at you as he follows his brothers. You huff out another laugh and lead Omega towards the cleared path in the forest. “Well, I guess I’ll just escort you then my lady. I’ll get you settled in in Hunter’s room before I join them so we can go over the mission details for tomorrow.”

“Can’t I be there? I want to know what’s going on tomorrow too!” Omega asks, her shoulders slumping down a moment under her cloak. You squeeze her hand and nod.

“Alright Omega, you can come with me. We’ll drop your pack off and then find our way. Just be weary. I’m not sure what kind of mission this will be or what Hunter’s plans for you are. This may be one you need to sit out, for all I know the both of us might be sticking behind. You’re a part of the squad so I see no issue of you being there. Just be ready to play the part Hunter and the others have planned.” You tell her. Thankfully, Hunter had begun to allow her a little more freedom with her involvement in missions. There were still runs Cid sent you on however that weren’t worth the risk.

“I promise I will!” She says, saluting you. You look ahead as a clearing broke out of the path and you see a glassed-in observatory style station come into view. It looked like a two-story home, perfectly rectangular in shape. The walls were made completely of glass, save for the metal framing around the edges and planforms, holding the building above the ground. You imagined the views of the forest were breathtaking from inside. You had to give it to her, Cid had taste. 

“(y/n)? Can I ask just one question before we go in?”

“Go on Omega, I’m listening.” You answer, still looking towards your quarters for the night.

“What are snowflakes?” ***** You sigh as you enter the code to your keypad Wrecker directly behind you as you all retired to your rooms after the mission briefing. Omega left in happy spirits with Hunter as he had a part for her to play in this mission, the situation being a simple drop-off of supplies with payment, nothing too messy. Since Omega had paid off all your debt with Cid, you were able to stick to more low-profile jobs while you figured out a new plan regarding Omega’s safety and the unsettling end of the war.

“The kid seemed happy that she has a job to do with us. I like when she’s able to come out in the field with us.” Wrecker says, starting to take off his uniform. You cross your arms over your chest, still a little chilled from the rain as you look out. You were right before, as the whole building, including your room, was surrounded by windows. Thick, one-way, bulletproof windows, as Tech made sure to point out, given who owned it. It really was a beautiful sight.

The view made it easy to look out into the forest, the leaves on the branches, bright from the rain and crisp air. The foliage swayed back and forth with the wind, creating the most soothing hushing sound, mother natures lullaby. Accompanied of course by what had to be some type of owls, their deep calls coming from their nests in the surrounding trees. Open space had a soothing effect to most. It’s infinite darkness with specks of light, but to you, it was far too quiet. No outside noises penetrated the thick hull of the Havoc Marauder, only the synthetic beeps and whirs of the engines going off in the night could soothe you in the deafening moments.

“I know that ain’t true, you smacked me in the face with your pillow the other night cause you said I was snorin’ too loudly.” Wrecker points out, lifting his chest piece over his head, his upper body now free of the extra weight. You hadn’t realized that you were thinking out loud, though you often did it around Wrecker. He was your partner, for a couple years now. Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Echo you trusted with your life. With Wrecker, you trusted him with your life and your heart. You take his chest piece from his hand and set it in the trunk he had carried in along with your bag. “

That is different!” You laugh, coming back to take the final pieces of his suit, leaving him just in his black thermal set. You lay the final piece into the trunk and sit on a chair that faces the windows. “This place reminds me of things I love. The birds, the trees, the smell of the rain. You can’t find that in space big guy. I’m glad we’re able to take Omega with us to these different planets and worlds. It’s important she knows about the world and everything in it. Good and bad. I just try my bests to let her see the good to remember during those bad times. She’s going to have to fight for a lot in her life, an unfair amount…”

“Hey, listen-“You feel Wrecker stand behind you, putting one hand on your shoulder and gesturing for your other one. You put your hand in his and bring the warm top side of his to your lips, kissing it gently. His hands dwarfed your own, as he did most parts of you. You were always safe when you were with him, and you knew if he wasn’t near, it wouldn’t take much to have him barreling towards you at any moment when you needed him. “We’re gonna look after Omega. We made it this far, I’ll stand in front of anyone that tries to hurt her… Or take her away.”

“I know you would Wreck, we all would. She just adores and admires you all.” You say, his fingers grazing your cheek as you speak. You were honest too. If your run in with the bounty hunters wasn’t enough, you knew in your heart that child was probably the most protected thing in the galaxy.

“She likes you a lot too ya know. She tells me all the time.”

“Does she?” You smile to yourself. The word ‘love’ was seldom used around the ship, usually only regarding Mantell mix by a select few. The feeling was always present of course, the brothers all loved each other, and as the time went on, it extended to both yourself and Omega as well. Wrecker had told you after he told you he loved you for the first time in your relationship, that it was the first time he had said it to someone in such a way.

“She does. She thinks your beautiful, and smart and kind. I like her, she’s a smart kid.” Wrecker lets go of your hand and comes around to the front of your chair. You barely have a moment to look up before he picks you up into his arms like you were nothing, carrying you to the plush bed that was made up in the middle of the room. He sets you down gently and crawls into bed with you. 

“Cause I think you’re beautiful, kind, and smart too.”

You laugh and prop yourself up a little more as Wrecker settles beside you, who is also sitting up to look at you. You extend your hand and cradle his face in your hand, your thumb brushing along his cheekbone. Before you can reply you feel a yawn manifest in your throat before it escapes, your hand covering your mouth as you try and keep your gaze on your favourite trooper.

“Am I that boring?” He chuckles. You swing your legs back over the edge of the bed, starting to unhook your boots. Wrecker gets up from the bed again and walks to your pack, grabbing your sleep pants from it.

“No Wreck of course not. I’m sorry, I just feel really tired suddenly.” You reply, pulling off your boots and setting them beside the bed, keeping them close just in case. You feel his hands slip under your shirt and you let him lift the fabric from your body, leaving you in just a worn sports bra. As you wiggle out of your tactical pants, he hands you the black sweatpants and you slip them on, relishing in the feel of the soft fabric. You never seem to realize how tired your body is until you properly stop for a moment.

“It’s okay baby, it’s been a while since we had a break. Even when we do, you’re always doing something for us, or for Omega.” He says, joining you in bed again. You lay back on his chest, relaxing into him as you look out the array of windows and out into the wilderness around you. You wished you had time to explore more, and to enjoy your time there, but you could already feel sleep tugging you down, not being helped by Wrecker’s fingers grazing up and down you arm.

“I know- but I still wish we had some extra time. We haven’t had a lot of time together either, just the two of us. I’m sorry I’m wasting it.” You sigh, fingers dancing over his chest.

“Don’t worry (y/n).”  Wrecker takes his arm around you and rolls you onto his chest, almost laying you almost on top of him, kissing that spot on your neck that makes your heart thrum. “There’s always the morning. You know how much I like breakfast.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Hopeless Romantic ~ OT7 [Request]

➳➳➳Word Count: 2.5K

➳➳➳Paring: ot7 x reader

➳➳➳Genre: Floffy with a tiny bit of angst

➳➳➳A/N: I hope this is okay sweetie!! As a secret lover of the romance books I appreciated this ask lmao

To everyone else on the outside of the relationship, you were just close friends with BTS, which was partially true you were close friends but it went deeper than that. Somehow you'd managed to get yourself into a polyamory relationship with the best seven guys you'd ever met in your life. You'd been friends with Yoongi since you were kids and you'd always had a crush on him but ignored the feelings wanting to stay friends with him instead of ruining your bond together but as you grew older and closer your feelings began to grow and became mutual but so did the feelings that the other members had for you. Then one very drunken night lead to a whole night of long conversations and confessions, talking through emotions and how much you liked them all and that was it...You were in a relationship, but sometimes it did just feel like a friendship it wasn't as it was portrayed in movies or TV shows. It wasn't all sex all of the time with all of them, it was movie nights while you cuddled up to one another, going out together as a group but acting as friends until you got home, date night with one of them every day of the week. Being there for one another when the other one needed it, it was just how a normal relationship would work but with 6 other people involved. You'd been together for a year and so it was a well-oiled machine and it all worked perfectly fine with no problems, sure there were the occasional fights like in all relationships but they were resolved quickly.

"Y/n? Are you coming?" Namjoon asked waving his hand in front of your face to get your attention, you snapped your attention away from your phone and looked up at him to nod.

"Sure, sorry. World of my own." You laughed locking your phone and sliding it into your handbag, it was date day with Namjoon and he was taking you out book hunting which was a good thing because your favourite writer had just released a new book that morning and you had been dying to get it.

"You're always in your own world, it's cute." He mumbled kissing the top of your head and handing you your car keys, you looked at him and then walked out of the front door without a  goodbye since all the boys were asleep still.

"You need to learn to drive you know, I can't keep being your little chauffeur all your life." You giggled looking at the paparazzi that were waiting outside the gates of the dorms to get a glimpse at the boys. Namjoon laughed at your poor attempt of teasing him and helped you into the car. You could no longer act like a couple now there were cameras watching so you just poked your tongue out at him and pulled out of the driveway heading in the direction of town.

"I'll never get used to seeing them out there," You laughed trying to make light-hearted conversation, Namjoon had strong feelings about being seen in public with you he didn't mind being seen with you but there was to be no hugging or acting in any way a couple would it was the same with all the boys but Namjoon was the most strict on it whereas Taehyung would hug you all day long cameras or not.

"Yeah, it's still a little surreal to me, where are we going first?" He questioned looking over at you as you pulled onto the highway,

"I have to stop at the main bookshop first but then I'm down to go to the market for the rest of them," He nodded in agreement with you and you drove with music playing softly in the background.

"Hey what are you getting? I can't seem to find anything I like in here," Namjoon said coming over to you with a smile on your face, you clutched the four books you'd picked up into your chest not wanting him to see the first one you had.

"Just some psychology ones and a true-crime one for me and Yoongi to read tomorrow." Which was all true except you neglected to mention the new romance novel that was situated the closest to your chest so he couldn't see, but he knew there was something off because your cheeks were getting hot and you kept looking away from him something you only did when you were lying.

"I'll get them for you, my treat." He went to take them but you clutched them tighter,

"What do you have in there? Erotica?" He laughed looking at the line as you moved down a space, the elderly lady in front of you scoffed at you both and you rolled your eyes at her. If it was erotica you would feel less awkward about carrying it, but it was a secret guilty pleasure you had. You were a sucker for the romantic books, all of the classics and all of the new cheesy ones you would find stacked up in charity shops. You couldn't help it, but it was a secret you were going to take to the grave, you didn't want anyone to know about it.

"It's not Erotica." You giggled looking around the shop for something to distract Namjoon with,

"They have your guys book in here, go and check that out." He looked over his shoulder to see Into The Magic shop sitting on display and he left you in the line.

"You should never hide your favourite books." The elderly lady from in front of you said, turning around to look at you she was smaller than you and was carrying a basket full of them.

"It's just a guilty pleasure." You told her showing her the new romance novel you'd picked up, then she showed you the same one sitting in her basket.

"You go before me dear, I'll be here a while." You stepped in front of her and began getting served, asking for a bag so you could hide the books inside.

The day continued as normal you found smaller bookshops to go and explore and walked through the market with Namjoon to find smaller bookstalls with second-hand books that needed a home. You had a problem, you could never walk past a book shop or stall without going in and buying something. It was impossible. By the end of the day, you were home with four bags full of books ready to add to the neverending bookshelves in Namjoon's study upstairs in the dorms.

"We might as well own our own library at this point." He pointed out looking at the now full four floors to ceiling bookshelves.

"Hey! It's not just me that enjoys these, we all do. I caught Kookie reading one of your art history books the other morning." You told him as you hide the bag full of your secret books outside the door, Namjoon was so distracted he hadn't noticed but the action hadn't gone unnoticed by Jin who was standing outside of the door.

"What's this?" He picked it up and you screamed at him not to look inside,

"What's inside the bag?" Jin asked lifting it up in the air so you couldn't rip it from his hands, you jumped up in an attempt to grab it from him but he smirked holding it up higher.

"I think our little girlfriend is hiding something from us Joonie." Jin teased watching as you desperately tried to retrieve the bag.

"Please, I'll cook dinner tonight if you just give me the bag." The bag was put back in your hands by Jin who was supposed to be the cook for the night, gladly giving it to someone else for a change so he didn't have to listen to the boys complaining again.

"Jin!" Namjoon scoffed watching as you ran out of the room to hide the books in the spare room you always slept in whenever you went to a sleepover at the dorms. You lifted up the loose floorboard under the double bed and stashed them inside with the others getting up a couple of seconds later to go and prepare dinner for them all.

"Hobi can you help me?" You asked as you walked through the living room, he was watching Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin playing video games and nodded following you into the kitchen and asking what needed doing first.

"Can you wash all the vegetables and start cutting them? I'll work on the meat then." You gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting on with your work.

"Jungkookie you put that piece of pork down right now or so help me God I will stab you with that chopstick," Jungkook stared at you,

"You're not even looking at me how did you-"

"She's got eyes in the back of her head," Yoongi said to Jungkook before he could finish his sentence, you sighed looking back at them and sitting down on your chair,

"What's taking Namjoon and Jimin so long?" You questioned looking over your shoulder,

"Just eat, the food will get cold soon." You mumbled looking down at your plate they were never late for food.

"Guys?!" You called out getting up from the table and walking over to the staircase,

"Food!" You heard chuckling and then footsteps so you walked back into the dining room and sat down to eat, Taehyung handed you some water and you began to drink it.

"We know what it is." You heard Jimin announce as he walked into the room, he sat down at the table and pushed pork into his mouth.

"You know what, what is?" You questioned looking just as confused as everyone else at the table, a bag was dropped into the middle of the table and you almost choked on air as your eyes landed on it.

"Your favourite book." You stared up at Namjoon as he rushed your shoulders with a giant smirk on his face,

"You went into the guest room?" Jin asked looking at the boys who were chuckling to one another, Yoongi reached into the middle of the table first to see what was in the bag but he caught a glimpse of your face and stopped himself.

"She doesn't want us to see." He mentioned looking at Taehyung who went to look anyway,

"It can't be that bad." He pulled out the first book and read through the blurb before turning to you,

"So you like cheesy romance novels, what's wrong with that?" The second part of his sentence was directed at Jimin and Namjoon who were still laughing heavily together. It didn't make you feel any better than they were all staring at you and taking out books, only making Namjoon and Jimin laugh harder at you.

"Okay! I get it!" You yelled pushing the chair back and making Namjoon move away from you,

"I like cheesy books! Okay! I like the idea of being swept off my feet by someone, or falling in love by one touch." Your eyes were filled with tears as you explained yourself,

"I liked the idea of meeting a stranger in a bookshop and falling hopelessly in love! I loved the sound of falling for someone without knowing them!" You began crying and walked out of the dining room and sprinting up the stairs and into the spare bedroom where you cried into the pillows.

"See what you did!" Yoongi yelled looking at Namjoon and Jimin who were hanging their heads low, Yoongi walked up the stairs to talk to you but the door was locked.

"Y/n...Y/n talk to me, it's just me." He knocked on the door but all he could hear was your broken sobs as you cried into a pillow, it was stupid to cry about but the way they were laughing at you really hurt your feelings.

"Y/n, let me in," Yoongi begged but you weren't going to move, you felt awful for singling him out but he would want you to go and talk to the boys and right now you just wanted to cry. Yoongi had always been the kindest towards you, though he came across as cold to everyone who didn't know him he was the sweetest guy you'd ever met and was always there when you needed him.

"Text me when you want to talk." You heard his retreating footsteps and you sniffled against the pillow, wanting to leave the dorms but you knew you couldn't because it would mean facing all seven of them at once.

A couple of hours later Jimin heard your door unlock and the bathroom door close so he knew you were out,

"Joon, she's up." They waited at the bottom of the stairs to see what you were doing and when they heard you go back into the spare room without locking the door they made their way up to go and see you. Namjoon knocked first,

"Y/n?"

"What do you want Joonie?" He pushed the door open to see you sitting on the bed, your hair was up in a messy bun, your eyes were bloodshot and you were wearing one of Jungkook's oversized shirts that looked like you were swimming in it.

"We didn't mean it the way it came out." Jimin spat out walking into the room and sitting beside you on the bed, Namjoon followed sitting on the opposite side and watching as you laid your head on Jimin's shoulder.

"I shouldn't have overreacted-"

"No, you had every right. We were mean and we shouldn't have gone into your room without asking." Namjoon whispered holding your hand and rubbing his fingers along your knuckles, you sniffled and looked at him.

"We're sorry," Jimin whispered kissing the top of your head and linking his hand with your free one, Namjoon sighed looking at you.

"Are you hungry? I'll order you some food and then we'll watch a movie together, me you and Jimin?" You shook your head, your head was pounding from crying so much and you honestly just wanted to fall asleep.

"I'm tired," You answered, Jimin looked at Namjoon and started getting up from the bed. It was his night to fall asleep with you but in all honestly, you wanted to fall asleep beside them both. It wasn't something uncommon between you, you'd fallen asleep beside Yoongi and Hobi after a night together,

"C-Can Jimin stay too?" You asked Namjoon who was laying down behind you,

"Sure." He whispered kissing the base of your neck, Jimin got back into the bed and you snuggled against his chest letting Namjoon cuddle you from behind.

"I'm sorry I cried." You whispered as you closed our eyes listening to Jimin's heartbeat,

"No, we're sorry we made you cry," Namjoon whispered in your ear rubbing small patterns into your exposed arm. Jimin kissed your head softly and you stayed there until you all fell asleep.

tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @callingmyangel @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @btsiguess-kpop 

[patricia-von-arundel]

Danse Macabre: Teaser - Anselma

Summary: A setting of stage: a series of teasers to introduce an upcoming dark AU by @lysissisyl​ and @patricia-von-arundel​. Coming perhaps too soon... 

Rating: G (teaser only)

AO3 || Additional Teasers (coming soon)

Danse Macabre Story Blog

There had been storms the night before.

Summer squalls were not uncommon in Enbarr, but they were usually brief and thunderous, leaving damp earth steaming and the air feeling as thick and sticky as melted sugar. Last night’s storms had been unusually long, unusually intense: heat lightning and throbs like the distant boots of some approaching giant, deep and ominous and growing closer and closer under a sky turned a curdled, heaving mass of green-yellow clouds. Then rain, and rain, and rain.

Anselma had felt the oppressive thrum of it, some monstrous manifestation of the same turmoil within her gut. Perhaps Edelgard had felt it as well; she had been excitable all afternoon, full of even more impossible store of energy than she always seemed to contain, a whirlwind of activities quickly abandoned, toys and books left scattered across every room and corridor, and endless, incessant chatter-chatter-chatter. By evening, when the heavy clouds finally burst into deafening torrents, she had become querulous and irritable, and dinner pushed with an aggravated whine to splatter across the floor was the last straw Anselma could take. She shouted, and Edelgard, with the righteous fury reserved for the most faithful of the church but also four-year-old children, shouted right back before descending into a tantrum that faded only with her consciousness.

She slept afterward as peacefully as if nothing at all had happened, never stirring as the wind took up howling and the rain drummed like mallets against the roof and the windows, each thunderclap reverberating through the floorboards. Anselma wished desperately that she could do the same - but instead, she remained restless, and watched the raindrops glisten golden as the sun finally made desperate attempt to rise and shine against a world of dark and tumultuous surprises.

Unavoidable surprises…

She took Edelgard outside, into that fresh sun, nursing her third cup of tea since dawn and wondering - not for the first time - how much more often such times would be allowed: Edelgard in an old dress, too short, and old boots, almost worn through at the soles from having once been a most beloved pair, both perfect for stomping gleefully in puddles or leaving hopelessly smeared with a canvas of mud. The stomping. The mud. The center of Enbarr - a world of palaces and of prisons - could be reached in less than an hour on foot, less than half that on a horse, but for all Anselma truly knew of it, it might as well have been Almyra. But there were children there - of course there were. In a cottage beyond the walls of the city, or a palace, or in Almyra or Faerghus or Dagda or anywhere else: a child was a child. They played, and chattered, and refused dinner with angry vehemence. Would that, for Edelgard, truly be any different?

Or so Anselma tried, for a time of which she had long since lost count, to convince herself. She tried as well to drink her tea - but it had no taste, and her throat seemed to spasm for a moment as she forced it down, leaving her chest burning and her eyes watering and some primitive corner of her mind convinced that she was drowning: ridiculous, all of it, and all of it she fought. Whatever the cause, tears solved nothing.

“Look!” Edelgard’s voice, eager and excited; she had finally learned where to click her tongue into place for an “L” sound, rather than settling for a “Y.” “Look, look what I found!” The tempests of the night before - internal and external - seemed completely forgotten, and again Anselma wished there was some way for her to do the same. She might live the impossibly-long life of a child of the Goddess, and still she would remember every moment, every detail, of the night of such summer storms.

She put her teacup on the windowsill - carefully; the stone was lumpy and uneven - and went to see what had this time caught Edelgard’s curious attention.

Edelgard was crouched on the broken stone pathway, almost to where the tall row of hedges separated their tiny piece of earth from the endless, rolling farmland beyond: the closest Anselma had been allowed to get to running free of Enbarr entirely. They would not let her take Edelgard from the city. She would not leave the city without Edelgard. As far as truces went, it was not a happy one. She had dreamed a thousand thousand times - both awake and asleep - of taking Edelgard regardless of what they ordered, of escaping to another land entirely, where no one would care who they were or of the fate of any chosen children of the Saints-cursed Hresvelg family. What were the true odds that anyone might care to find them, with so many other Hresvelg children who could be burdened with family mantle?

But it was the lack of absolute certainty - strong odds, but not absolute ones - that kept her from doing it, and kept her in Enbarr. She wondered frequently if she would ever know for sure if this was a good decision, or a very, very poor one.

None of these possibilities and speculations mattered a trifle to Edelgard, of course. Edelgard was four years old, and what mattered to her at that moment was a worm.

The worm had found its way from the depths of the earth to the warm, damp, crooked paving stones that made equally-crooked way from the door down the center of the overgrown garden. (Anselma had made a single season’s attempt at taming it, then was wise enough to return to purchasing her vegetables from the market square just inside the old city walls.) The worm was clearly now ready to return home, the cooler night sky having left it to the merciless beat of the summer sun. She could feel the same thing - the blessed break from oppressive summer dissipating almost as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the rays of sun sharp and glistening as fangs; the heat was not done sinking deep into Enbarr. Living within the mud must feel quite good…

“Gross,” Edelgard said - but her eyes were fixated and intent, and there was pure fascination in them, and in her little smile as well. The ribbons holding her hair away from her face - away from dirt; there would not be time to wash it again - were already coming loose; she’d been too squirmy to tie them properly, eager to get outdoors after a single day of rain had trapped her inside. Edelgard had never liked feeling anything was forbidden to her, and grew quickly stubborn if it was, no matter how practical the reason. Anselma knew exactly from where she had inherited such inclination… and also now somewhat better could appreciate the frustration she had once caused in others.

“Don’t touch it,” Edelgard added - a curt, firm mimicry of adult authority held carefully in her voice. “We don’t know where it’s been.”

It always took some effort not to laugh, when Edelgard unexpectedly took on tones that seemed impossibly incongruous from a frame so small. It was perhaps something all children did, but what did Anselma know of children besides this one? “And we don’t want to hurt it, do we?” she asked - a more practical reason for Edelgard to leave alone the poor creature, already struggling mightily to wriggle its way back into the earth.

“We could hurt it?” Edelgard looked up briefly - concerned. “I didn’t touch it!” She pursed her lips and shook her head, as if vehemence might erase any doubt of the truth in her words.

“Of course not. He’s just fine. He just wants to go home.”

“To the dirt.” The disgusted glee was back in her voice. “Are worms related to snakes?”

“Snakes?”

“Snakes are slithery.” Edelgard put her fingers on the stone - carefully apart from the worm - and dragged them in little curls. “Sssss!”

“Maybe they’re cousins.” Anselma knew as much about worms and snakes as she did about children, but it seemed a harmless-enough little fiction to satiate Edelgard’s curiosity.

“Slithery,” Edelgard said again. “Sss. Ssssss.”

“How about this?” Ribbons already loose, and frayed at the ends besides - they were as old as the dress and the boots. And unlikely to be needed again soon…

Anselma tugged one away with more force than necessary - more force than intended - as if she might too loosen and pull from her own head thoughts she desperately did not wish to think. She was lucky the knot was already coming undone; Edelgard seemed hardly to notice her hair falling to her shoulder, much less the force of the pull - she was still dragging her fingers and hissing. The worm, equally unconcerned, continued its fight away from the growing suffocation of Enbarr summer heat.

Lucky things…

Envy of a four-year-old and a worm - utterly ridiculous, and yet there it was. And quickly dashed with guilt: here was a four-year-old, excited to be outside, in fraying ribbons and old clothes, fascinated by a worm. A child. A curious, tempestuous secure child.

How much longer? How much longer?

Anselma dragged the ribbon along the stone, mimicking Edelgard’s little fingers. “Another worm! Can you help it get home?”

“Yes!” Eager, excited - content. Content with an old red ribbon.

For a time, the ribbon occupied her. She wriggled it from the stone, shuffling along without even rising from her crouch, into the grass, then back again - this worm needed several trips, or perhaps was attempting to show the other how this should be done. Then another idea occurred - “It’s time for lunch, worms!” - and Edelgard ran off for the hedges, gathering spiky little leaves and then tufts of grass. She mixed them and made careful, uneven piles, several more than she had worms, real or ribbon - perhaps the snake cousins had been invited to share in the meal.

Anselma watched. Watched, and tried hard not to think: a truly laughable waste of energy. She could still run. Take Edelgard, bring more old clothes; who would look twice at a young woman and a child in worn, ill-fitting things, just two more wretched beings spit upon by powerlessness and circumstances? The poor of Enbarr swarmed like rats in parts of the old city - she had seen them herself, more times than she could count - and very few of the more privileged ever paid them any mind, so long as they were not causing trouble. They could go further, see the world. How long had it been since even the thought of Enbarr had excited her? She could feel like that again, and share it with Edelgard, until they found together a place that felt like home. A safe place. A place where…

“Uncle!” Edelgard’s sudden cry once more breaking through wandering thoughts - Anselma had failed to hear the door, or the footsteps on the path behind her. “Uncle, I made lunch for worms! I found one! It’s here, look!”

“In a moment, Edelgard.” He wasn’t even looking at her - when Anselma turned, her brother’s eyes were quickly fixed hard upon her own. “Good morning, Anselma.”

“Is it?” She made no effort at all to hide the disdain in her voice, only her surprise at his arrival. Why should she hide it? She knew as well as he did the role he had played - had insisted upon - in securing Edelgard’s fate. And he also knew exactly how Anselma felt about that fate.

He ignored her question - as well as the disdain. “Worms? You think it wise to let a child of her birth play with worms?”

“What harm is there in worms? I don’t care a Saints-damned bit about her birth. And neither do you.”

“Anselma…”

“Volkhard.” Petty, puerile - but she also felt, sparking like a flame thought long since snuffed, a defiance growing once more inside her. She lifted her chin, staring up at him with challenge writ quite deliberately across her expression.

He saw it - he knew it well. He sighed. “It would be far wiser, and safer for Edelgard, if you might offer simply a facade of caring. Especially now.”

“I don’t see that it matters. Everyone had made it quite clear that my feelings, facade or no, matter somewhat less than horse droppings do to the horse.”

“You believe they will simply leave you be, no matter how your rash behavior might come to affect them, simply because Edelgard has taken what has always been her rightful place?”

“Her rightful place? There are ten more before her!”

“Not with the Crest of Seiros. The Vestra line -”

She wanted to slap him. Instead, she cut him off: “You’ve said that. A hundred upon a hundred times, you have said that. Say it a hundred upon a hundred times more, and it will still do nothing at all to change my mind.”

Again, he sighed - exasperation, now. “And your opinion on this will change the minds of no others. But that is irrelevant - Anselma, I am trying to keep Edelgard safe. Can you truly continue to refuse to see that, even now?”

“I can keep her safe.”

“You don’t -” But he stopped himself - shook his head. It was not the first time he had almost said more than intended… and just as every other time, the reminder of his secrets, his self-appointed superiority even where her own daughter was concerned, fanned the flames of her defiance and anger from spark to inferno. “There is no safer place for her here than amongst the protections afforded to the royal family.”

“The true danger is within that family. Or were you too busy in prayer to the Goddess to pay attention in your history lessons? You’re asking me to entrust Edelgard to a nest swarming with vipers.”

“She’s being honored by a sacred tradition as old as the empire. No one will harm her. Certainly not her own family - she will be with her father, her brothers and sisters. And the Vestra boy? Anselma, he is six years old!”

She snorted. “A baby viper is still a viper.”

She could hear it, an echo; Edelgard’s voice: Sss. Sssssss. She glanced back, over her shoulder. Edelgard was playing with the twigs she had gathered, arranging them upright in the muddy ground, but if she was listening, it would not be the first time she had appeared to be completely absorbed in something else while taking in every word. Would she say anything later, as in the past she had done to Anselma?

What will happen now if she does?

“Vipers or not, she will be safe,” Volkhard said. He, too, glanced at Edelgard, but his expression was unusually cold and closed - difficult to read. “This is nothing offered to her lightly. If anyone seems to take it lightly, it is you - why is Edelgard not yet dressed and prepared properly to leave?”

The inferno was a sheet of flame across her vision - but had not yet fully engulfed all rational thought. She fought the rage at his words: take it lightly. As if he had not picked such phrasing quite deliberately, knowing her months of refusals, arguments, and blunt anger. She fought it - fought it, and said, “You told me yourself you would likely not arrive much before dusk. Unless the definition of such has changed, you seem to be several hours early. You expected to find Edelgard demurely waiting in satin and braids by the front door, no matter the time of day?”

“I would love to see Edelgard that way, at any time.”

She bristled at that - and certainly, he noticed, but she still attempted to cover it, turning away from him to call Edelgard in. What he would not see were the tears she fought.

None of them would ever see that.

This will not be the end of it.

Words she repeated to herself in silent, determined mantra as she led Edelgard back inside, far earlier than her fevered brain could possibly have prepared for. Repeated as she tugged Edelgard out of her old clothes, wiped the mud from her face and hands, dressed her in a skirt and jacket in Imperial colors - a gift from the Vestra family she had until now tucked into the furthest, darkest corner of Edelgard’s wardrobe. Whatever happened, no harm would be done in making a positive impression on this day of all days.

Edelgard pulled at the pleats in the skirt and twisted the tiny gold buttons with her fingers. “Fancy,” she said. “Don’t get dirty…” She was already dirty - dark crescents under her nails, a stark contrast to the polish and gleam of the buttons. But there was no time for bathing. Not now.

“Be very careful,” Anselma said, and Edelgard nodded in solemn agreement. She was unusually reticent as Anselma brushed and tied back her hair - or maybe the unusual factor was Anselma herself, taking almost-unconscious care in what might be the last time she ever did this.

No… Tying fresh ribbons, new ones, and more tightly this time. A deep breath. For a moment, she held it.

This will not be the end of it.

The little trunk Ionius had sent - it was already filled with Edelgard’s nicest things, all those satins apparently so precious and so rare. On top of them, Anselma put the brush she had been using. It was the only one that didn’t make Edelgard scream and fight any time her hair was touched.

Closing and latching the lid seemed as difficult as lifting the house from its very foundation. She let Edelgard help her carry it to sit by the door, though it wasn’t heavy. The weight was not the point. Edelgard took the task as seriously as lunch for worms: watching very carefully each step she took, her tongue sticking out from the corner of her mouth. She looked more like her father when she was concentrating: the same thinned lips and drawn brows.

Volkhard did not let Edelgard help. He took the trunk and secured it to the back of the carriage - but Edelgard, distracted by the horse at the front, paid this no mind. “Does he have a name, Uncle?” she asked.

Innocent curiosity in her voice - no fear or uncertainty at all. But she had also not feared last night’s storms - very few things frightened Edelgard. A boon… except Anselma might once have said the same of herself. Standing now in the doorway of yet another home not truly her own, watching Edelgard stare up at a black beast towering above her - she felt not just fear, not just the anger she had nursed for so long, but something more like terror.

She could grab Edelgard, still, and attempt to flee. Perhaps they would simply be cut down by Imperial soldiers - could whatever skulked and screamed in an afterlife truly be worse than the most powerful men in life? Or they would escape, as she had imagined so often. Or -

“I don’t know,” Volkhard said to Edelgard - blunt. Still cold. “Into the carriage, now. Your father is waiting for you.”

“I don’t remember him,” Edelgard said - but quite matter-of-factly, and she did not hesitate to climb up the high steps. She required no help.

“You will soon enough.”

No goodbyes, just the slamming of the carriage door and a brief wave from Edelgard. It was likely for the best. Perhaps it was to be expected, considering how little Edelgard knew. Her stoicism in this might prove a necessary armor.

Anselma took a deep breath, and hoped only her own false stoicism showed. There was no one to see it - but that was not the point. She would wear this mask for herself. Wear it until…

Another breath, deep and slow and carefully even. This will not be the end of it.

Small, concrete things to do: clear away and clean the breakfast dishes. Tidy the toys scattered the evening before. Perhaps later scrub the floors. Things. Things to do. Things to distract. 

She returned first, though, to the garden; she had left her cup on the windowsill, interrupted from finishing her tea by Volkhard’s early, unexpected arrival. For a moment, she ignored it still - distracted by a flash of red further down the broken path.

Edelgard’s ribbon.

It was a coil upon the stone, bright against drab. Small and fraying, but like some helpless, pulsing creature, clinging stubbornly to life.

The worm had not been so fortunate. It lay next to the ribbon, prone and cracked and drying. Dead. Struggling for refuge, it had not escaped the sun.

[cowperviolet]

Vittoria Accoramboni and a Renaissance Revenge Tragedy – Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

This is one of the most riveting stories from the Italian Renaissance history – the kind that seems to be ready-made for the stage or silver screen. It has everything: an ambitious beauty, jealousy, papal intrigues; Medici plots, vengeance and desire, and assassins hiding under beds.

Happy stories tend to end with weddings. This story starts with one.

Even given Rome’s great population of gawkers, few spectators turned out to watch when, in 1573, Vittoria Accoramboni married Francesco Peretti. The bride was one of the eleven children in a family of impoverished noblemen; the groom was a nephew of a remarkably poor parvenu cardinal whose own father had been a pig farmer in the Marches. There was only one reason that would have made people gaze as the wedding procession led Vittoria along on her traditional white horse, her hair virginally loose – namely, the luminous beauty of the bride.

     Vittoria herself knew the value of that beauty. So did her determined mother, Tarquinia, who burned with desire to see the Accorambonis restored to their once-prominent place in society – and the most beautiful of her daughters was to be instrumental in this.

Three centuries ago, back in the 1200s, Vittoria’s family owned a castle in the town of Tolentino, and enjoyed all the accolades due to prominent noblemen in those feudal days. All of this was lost in one unwise move – the Accorambonis went too far, and rebelled against the Pope. In retaliation, they were stripped of their honours and their castle, and exiled to an old house in the tiny Gubbio, where they dwelled quietly for centuries after. This generation, with eleven mouths to feed and nothing more than a too-grandiously-named palazzo in Gubbio to bank upon, should not have been any different. However, Tarquinia was determined to turn the tide. If two of her daughters, Massimilla and Settimia, had no other choice than to join a convent due to their parents not having enough money for their dowry, Vittoria possessed a rare blessing – namely, the kind of beauty that could offer the family a way out of poverty once and for all.

     Once on the Roman marriage market, Vittoria attracted a number of suitors. Francesco Peretti was the kind of luck they hadn’t expected at first – his family heard his intentions to court the most beautiful girl in Rome without enthusiasm. His uncle, Cardinal Montalto, might have had the appearance of a frail old man of quiet disposition, but he was not devoid of ambition, and would have much preferred to see his nephew marry a girl with a good dowry and connections who might have enhanced their political prospects. Francesco’s own mother, Camilla, was not amused, either – while not particularly ambitious herself, she always wished her brother success. However, she knew true love where she saw it, and, sighing privately, accepted Vittoria to her house and home with open arms.

Tarquinia, however, had less than romantic thoughts on their mind. She was counting days when the reigning Pope Gregory XIII is finally going to give his soul up to the Almighty, and clear the way for Cardinal Montalto.

     While other states in Italy were governed by republican senates or petty princes, and the countries north of the Alps had their great feudal monarchies, in Rome the throne of St. Peter was the shining centre of the universe from which all blessings, material as well as spiritual, doth flow. The Accorambonis have always known it, and not simply because it’s the displeasure of a long-dead Pope that cost them their old fortune. Vittoria’s grandfather, Girolomo, considered the crowning achievement of his medical career to be the fact that he became the personal physician of Pope Adrian VI. Now Tarquinia was aiming for them to find a place even closer to the Vicar of Christ – namely, a familial one.

Most people would have considered her hope for Cardinal Montalto to become the Pope one day to be absurd – however, not everybody, and certainly not Cardinal Montalto himself. Yes, his late father might have been eking out a miserable living growing vegetables and tending pigs; yes, his mother might have been a housekeeper; yes, his sister Camilla might have been a widowed laundress. Still, ever since Montalto, as a young boy, joined the monastery that gave him a good education and his start in life, he was sure of his divine destiny. His parents agreed – after all, how else to explain him surviving the plague that killed his brother, the swimming accident that almost left him floating face down in a pond, and the fire that ignited his bed thanks to a forgotten oil lamp, except by the fact that God had a special plan for him?

Cardinal Montalto thought so, and Tarquinia thought so. Vittoria herself was more sceptical. Nothing in her new household screamed greatness, even a prophesized one. The Venetian ambassador who happened to visit the Perettis’ house some years later, in 1585, wrote in shock that the place was almost devoid of furniture. Moreover, Camilla Peretti, despite being a sister to a cardinal, did her own laundry and that of her household herself, pushing soiled linen with a paddle in steaming cauldrons. The small courtyard of the house, which was not big enough for a horse to properly turn itself around it, was full of running chickens. Cardinal Montalto’s income was only 8,000 scudi a year, which, for his position, was truly miniscule. Besides, he had to not only maintain his own household and that of Camilla, but also to spend greatly on charity works – if he wanted to climb higher in the world, good publicity was a must. This is not to say his contributions weren’t genuine – for example, he built houses for poor families in his down-on-its-luck hometown, and, in 1578, he built a school there and hired a teacher out of his own pocket. However, I highly doubt that any of these things would have meant much for Vittoria.

Neither was she likely to be amused when he used the entirety of her dowry to buy himself a vineyard – and put the land in Camilla’s name. Gradually, Vittoria persuaded him to change this last fact, and legally transfer the land to her and Francesco instead, so that the proceeds from the sale of wine and oil could pay for their upkeep. However, having to wheedle and beg for the ownership of a piece of land bought with her own money must have felt rather degrading. Later, when she realized that the young trees are too young to bear fruit that would bring her any substantial income, she sold the vineyard back to the cardinal for 750 scudi more than it cost initially, and put the difference into annuities.

This particular vineyard might have been paid with her dowry, and thus given her a moral right to protest about its ownership – however, in many other questions, Vittoria went way over the line. One document she and her family presented to Cardinal Montalto bluntly said that

‘And there remain many scudi of old debts that he will be forced to satisfy if he stays in Rome and lives among men’.

In other words, she was not averse to some blackmail – after all, she asked, the cardinal doesn’t want to undo all his charitable efforts by appearing like a skinflint when it comes to his beloved daughter-in-law and her closest relatives, does he?

Perhaps, she would have been more careful if she had known with him if she had known certain facts of his past that he, now that he was a cardinal with quiet papal ambitions, took care to keep from the public…

More on them, however, next week.

Sources:

Eleanor Herman, Murder in the Garden of God

[somelazyassartist]

🌹 ,🍄 , 🍁 for hallows!

🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?

Hallows feels most at home in the Best Friends Force mansion, because it's the first real home she's had in over three decades and finally has people she can feel safe around, which is a rare comfort for her. Hallows was born in a small village, Moonshire, on the very outskirts of The Forgotten Wood within the kingdom of Arran Thalas; she lived with her mother and father in a tiny cottage and worked helping them with their stand at the village's farmers market selling homegrown fruits and vegetables from her mother's garden. Her parents make her feel at home wherever she may be, and though she may have been forced to run away from home she always carries the Cloak of Many Fashions they gave her as a wedding present so she always has something to remember them by with her. Home means family to her, but the Best Friends Force is the closest thing she's had in a while; her parents were her first home, then Madame Mariah Rinee was her second home even if it wasn't always the best, by the time she got to Mr. Stellacero's Circus she was sorta wary about calling it "home", when she worked at the Lady Luck Tavern she had one friend but never felt at home, and then, finally, she met the BFF and finally was able to have a home as perfect as her first one.

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?

Hallows' favorite snacks that she could eat regularly is probably like,,,, shitty greasy tavern french fries cuz honestly like. Shitty tavern food was all she got to eat for like 30 years (when she was able to afford to eat at all), but if it was just any snacks ever? She'd probably like bubblegum and chocolate ice cream mixed together cuz that's what I like and she's my self-insert so she automatically gets my weird taste in ice cream. Her comfort food is stuffed mushrooms, because her mom used to grow them herself and her dad would cook them and so she automatically associates stuffed mushrooms with safety and comfort. Unfortunately since the Feywild has a different ecosystem than the Material Plane and thus affects how the plants taste, she's never been able to find any that are as good as the ones her parents used to make her. I cannot answer what her favorite food to make is but I can answer the next question because she is Banned™ from cooking at the Best Friends Force mansion because she WILL burn everything she tries to make and that is a PROMISE.

🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?

She goes to her room/laboratory when she needs to be alone, since it's the tower room it's on a different level from the rest of the house and is a lot quieter and easier to calm down when she's going through sensory overload. She probably would have a comfort corner, but she couldn't really fill it with things she likes since for the last three decades she hasn't had too many possessions pretty much at all. She definitely moved in with the least amount of luggage, and most of the stuff she owns now were things she's stolen or things that were already in the house when it was first abandoned. She doesn't really have anywhere outside she can feel is "hers", and she sorta associates it with her years of living on the streets and running from town to town trying to complete a near-impossible challenge.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I’m taking a gap year before I go up to Cambridge to study History and I am a big fan of your blog. I am in awe of your posts and your intellectual musings that really makes me wonder if I’m smart enough to succeed in Cambridge. I want to know what book shops did you spend time in when you were a student. Do you still find time to go to the English book shops in Paris now that you are busy in the real world of having a demanding career? Can you recommend some?

Congratulations on getting into Cambridge to read History. That’s an achievement in itself. I understand the History department has consistently rated as one of the best in the world in the global university rankings so it’s an achievement. Perhaps in time you can become the next Tom Holland or William Dalrymple?!

I spent many spare hours browsing through second hand book shops as a student (gosh! It feels like a life time ago now!). When I wasn’t drowning in books in my college library trying to stave off an essay crisis I was seeking sanctuary in mostly second hand book shops dotted around the city.

I obviously wouldn’t count the Cambridge University Press bookstore a second hand book store but I did go in often because it had frequent second hand book sales and it was always exciting what new specialist books were coming off the press written by our professors (buy their tomes for brownie points obviously and use it as a coffee coaster). It’s claimed that the CUP book shop is the oldest in Britain but I’m confused. I know Cambridge University Press is the oldest publishing house in the world but where the bookshop stands it used to be called Bowes & Bowes which claimed to be the oldest book shop since 1581. They got bought out at some stage and somehow CUP took over the shop. So make what you will of it.

Heffers - opposite Trinity College - was another book shop I would go to a lot. Again, not a second hand book shop but they carried the most wide ranging of books of all interests and served as an alternative to Waterstones, the big high street book store. I thought I was supporting a local book shop (however big it was in Cambridge) when I found out years later that it was actually owned by Blackwell’s (the same giant bookseller Blackwell’s in Oxford). Hmmm.

In my time, the Cambridge Market Place on certain days had second hand book stalls set up alongside all the colourful fruit and vegetable stalls. A browse through those stalls was never a wasted exercise. I even met one of my boyfriends whilst browsing there - we both fought over the same book we spied from afar (he put his fingers on it first but I was quicker to snatch it away before he put his palm down). I felt bad for him so I let him buy me tea at the Copper Kettle, opposite King’s College.

During my time in Cambridge I know some friends would go to the Sarah Keys the Haunted Bookshop in St. Edward’s Passage (so named because of the two ghosts which are rumoured to reside on its premises.) It was mostly filled with vintage children stories and had a tiny couple of tables for coffee. I found it claustrophobic and the coffee was ghastly. I avoided it because it really didn’t have any good books at all. Students went because it’s the closest it got them to some Brideshead Revisited fantasy of musty smelling books. 

My most frequent haunt was actually also in St. Edward’s Passage was G. David. This independent bookshop sells antique, secondhand, remaindered books, maps and prints dating back to the late 1800s. For over three centuries the G. David bookshop has been run by the founder's family. I spent much of my student money in there. To this day whenever I go back to Cambridge to see friends (some are now teaching Dons in the university or work in the so-called high-tech ‘Silicon Fen’ community) I always make a point to go there for a quick browse. I always buy something there, usually a gift for someone but always some gem for my growing book collection. The shop is small but the service is intimate and homely. It’s a paradise for Shakespeare, Classics, and History lovers.

Later when I went over to study at Oxford, I would inevitably end up going into the legendary Blackwell’s on Broad Street. You needed to wear a comfy pair of sneakers if you ever venture into the Norris Room as it’s the largest single room selling books according to the world in the Guinness Book of Records. With about 10,000 square feet and three miles of shelving to browse through, don’t ever say they don’t have the book you’re looking for.

Another bookshop I would go to a lot was Last Bookshop which was tucked away in the Jericho area of Oxford. They always had these ‘two books for 5 pound’ deals which was great if your budget was tight (as it always is for impoverished students). The coffee area was cute and the coffee was bearable.

Then there was St. Philip’s Books on St. Aldates, opposite Christ Church Gardens. They specialised in rare and secondhand books in the the broad humanities from theology, history, literature, philosophy, art, classics and antiquarian books. If you were into C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein or any kind of Christian theology and patristics then this was the place to go to.

In London where I used to live I tried to be as local as possible given how big London is and also a preference for independent ones (be they second hand or antiquarian). There are a mecca of bookshops and second hand book stores scattered around London and so I’m always pleasantly thrilled when I stumble upon a new discovery by accident or word of mouth. 

My absolute favourite that I used to frequent a lot - and I still do when I go back to London - is John Sandoe Books in Chelsea. It’s tucked away in a quiet side street around the corner of Sloane Square. Going inside feels like rummaging through some fusty old Professor’s home with low ceilings. It’s actually made of up three small 18th Century Regency houses somehow tacked on together so the creaky floor boards seem uneven as you wander around. Although it’s a general independent bookshop, the vast majority of its books range from history, classics, poetry, and biographies. It has an enviable Everyman collection to die for and you can also get lucky buying first editions. My grandfather used to know John Sandoe, who started the business 60 years ago after he left a career in the City to try his hand at bookselling much to the disapproval of his father. Sandoe sold the business to two ex-colleagues and a loyal customer in 1989 and he died in 2007 after enjoying a well earned retirement in Dorset apparently.

My grandfather was especially fearful of Sandoe’s colleague the formidable Felicité Gwynn who worked there for over 25 years (she died in 1984). Not only was she an expert on all things equestrian but she had a a passion for literature that would put an Oxford Don to shame. However she had little patience for tiresome customers and it was said she sometimes threw books at them. To me it’s the perfect afternoon escape especially on a rainy day. Hands down I think of it as the best bookshop in the world since I’ve known it from my earliest childhood. I cherish the memory of coming home to England for brief sojourns from living overseas and I was super excited to take a trip to Sandoe. Time there fed my love for reading and learning. If you ever go there you will find that the staff are friendly and knowledgable. They will never patronise the customer…or throw books at you.

Hurlingham Books, an independent bookshop on the Fulham High Street is another favourite of mine whenever I am seeing friends, cousins, or siblings. It’s a short walk on the Fulham road from Putney Bridge tube station. The shop is carpeted with books from the floor to the ceiling. It’s like a narrow maze of bookshelves everywhere. There is always something to buy there on any topic under the sun. It’s not the most beautiful bookshop aesthetically speaking but it’s an unpretentious pleasure to browse through its many wall to wall books.

In central London my most frequent haunt is Hatchards off Picadilly Circus. It was founded in 1797 and still retains a very English identity. Sadly it’s been bought out by the high street giant, Waterstones, but they wisely left it intact. It stocks all the latest releases and has many author driven events. For me it’s been a post-lunch ritual to go there as it is just around the corner from the gentlemen’s clubs I am a member of (nearly all now elect women as members). I sometimes invite friends for lunch or frankly to impress a foreign business client at the club. I then wander off around the corner to browse at Hatchard’s to work off the lunch. But mostly this ritual of lunch at the club and then a browse at Hatchards I associate with my father and my siblings, even to this day. We all lead busy lives and yet we come together over lunch and then jaunt over for a bit of book browsing. What’s perfect is that Fortnum & Mason is almost next door and so it’s a perfect place to pop in to buy special blended Fortnum’s tea and jams to take back to Paris and give out as gifts to friends.

I would make a special mention to Maggs Bros bookshop which primarily deals in first editions, antiquarian, and rare books and is one of the oldest in the world. This old bookshop has now two shops, one in Bedford Square and their original shop in Curzon street in Mayfair. They have a fine collection of over 20,000 books going back to the 15th Century in many specialised fields. The buy and sell rare books and also let their customers know about first editions. So in the past they’ve had such precious gems as first 1922 editions of James Joyce’s Ulysses as well as copies of Shakespeare’s four 17th Century folios and even pocket diaries of Virginia Woolf. My parents are avid book collectors and they both frequent this shop to pick up first editions on anything from literature and architecture to military history and travel exploration. I must admit it’s a delightful place to browse for a special gift as one can never go wrong with giving a book as a gift.

When I was working in the City of London I couldn’t wait to get away from the pressures of work. During my lunch break or after work I would wander over to Hanbury street in Shoreditch to visit a very cool and atmospheric bookshop called Libreria. The mirrored ceiling and intensely yellow bookshelves and comfy seats are meant to disconnect you to the world outside. No phones are allowed. The books are arranged by theme so it’s a magical mystery tour of sorts browsing books and coming across books you might never have considered in the first place.

I do go out of my way to drop in on the Bloomsbury area for a browse is the London Review bookshop. The bookshop is on Bury street. Bloomsbury is known for its literary connections to Virginia Woolf, E M Forster and others literary icons. The shop itself is owned by the purveyor of long-form critical writing that is the London Review of Books. There’s also an adjoining tea and cake shop to put your feet up after a good browse through its extensive literature and humanities collection. There are other quaint bookshops in Bloomsbury area and they are well worth exploring too such as Jarndyce Antiquarian Booksellers outside the British Museum. They specialise in 18th and 19th century English literature and history and you can be sure to find some amazing editions of Dickens’ work here alongside Hazlitt’s writings.

Recently I discovered another gem of a secondhand bookshop near to St. Pancras station called Judd Books. St. Pancras is where I come back and forth on the Eurostar between Paris and London. I hate crowds and I hate waiting. So if I have time to kill I take my small carry on luggage and wheel myself across Euston road down a side street called Marchmont street.  It’s nothing fancy but a very functional bookshop selling tons of secondhand books that are almost brand new, mostly general fiction. Books line the walls from floor to ceiling so you may even need a ladder to reach the very top shelves.

In Paris where I now live I do go out of my way to support local bookshops even if the cost of an English language book is more expensive than if you bought it from the UK - this is because of added French taxes on imports. Still, it’s a small price to pay. Everyone will say the premier English bookshop in Paris is Shakespeare and Company. It is undoubtedly the most famous English bookstore in Paris. Perhaps even one of the most famous bookstores in Paris period. When it re-opened in 1951, it became a sort of hub for ex-pats living in France. It was inspired by the original Shakespeare and Company store by Sylvia Beach in the 1920s and 1930s where writers such as Joyce, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Eliot and Pound would gather. George Whitman took over and he paid homage to her amazing example. 

The shop today continues to attract numerous anglophone readers, writers and tourists every day. And that’s why I try and avoid it if I can. It’s a wonderful bookshop and tons of books to get your teeth into. But it’s simply over-crowded by tourists who are just taking selfies. Moreover the shop is manned by sincere but earnest young American literature graduates who want to have some of that Hemingway or Fitzgerald magic dust sprinkled upon them by association whilst writing their own Great American Novel Written in Paris. I find it grating that some of them feel they have to give you a full blown semiotic laden book review on a book you’ve asked if they have in stock or not. But the bookshop does put on great open events where many famous authors drop in and I know it does support aspiring amateur writers.

There are other English language bookshops worth visiting in the Latin Quarter, the student area and where the Sorbonne is. The Abbey Bookshop, Berkley Books, and San Francisco Book Company are similar in that they are decent places to spend a lazy afternoon browsing English books of all kinds. Of the three the Abbey is better. It’s mostly dog eared second hand books What I love is the presentation of books. Books seem to cover every single inch of this tiny store. You have to be contortionist to get around the tiny shop. There are books piled high in every nook and cranny of the place and one misstep could bring tonnes of books down upon you. I admire the shop for trying to cram so many titles into one tiny space. I generally avoid the Latin Quarter because it is saturated with tourists and it’s just over crowded. But because it’s full of university students there are many French language second hand book stores and antiquarian and rare bookshops which are definitely worth a browse.

The Red Wheelbarrow, a tiny bookshop in the Marais part of Paris is well worth a visit.

The bookshop I go to for English language books is Librairie Galignani on rue de Rivoli - opposite the iconic Tuileries Garden. The bookshop at this site has been run by the Galignani family since the beginning of the 19th century and it’s certainly the most grand of the English language bookshops in Paris. Indeed, the Galginani family has been in business since 1520 as publishers but they also boldly claim to be the first English bookshop established on the continent. On their website Galignani does boast an impressive history: “The Galignanis were among the first to use the recently invented printing press in order to distribute their books to a larger audience. Beginning in 1520, Simone Galignani published in Venice a Latin grammar (the oldest “Galignani” known). However, their greatest success was the Geografia by PTOLEMAUS published in 1597, an incredible bestseller in both the 16th and 17th centuries. Not surprising, the shop has moved locations several times in four centuries, and only as recently as 1856 has been on the present shop on the rue de Rivoli. It is still run by direct descendants of the original family.

It is an international bookstore, so there are of course massive amounts of titles in French, as well as other languages, mainly English. It has a wonderful fine arts section. It stocks all the latest releases in fiction and non-fiction for both English and French titles and the prices are the same as elsewhere. Be warned though, if you want to soak up the atmosphere of an ancient bookshop then you will be disappointed. It’s luxuriously pristine and smells of pine. The shop is large and deep, with floor-to-ceiling dark wooden shelves and upper levels that can be reached by a swish staircase. It oozes sophistication. It’s a good place to bump into handsome young sophisticated French men who are worldly and charming without being intellectually tortured or pretentious as the ones you might come across in the Latin Quarter. It’s how I met one of my French boyfriends at the time.

Down the rue de Rivoli I should mention WH Smith, the well known British high street retail book shop. It’s the largest English-language bookstore in France. The books on sale are the same as you would find in the UK. But what makes it worth a visit is the rows of magazines you might want from design magazines all the way to Harvard Business Review and the Economist. The real jewel is upstairs where they have a great English children’s book section for all ages. You’ll find French parents picking with their sprogs picking up books They also stock hard to find British (and even American) foods from Heinz baked beans to candy bars. But one of the main reasons I go there is for the scones (served with clotted cream and jam) and decent tea served in the cafe that’s tucked away upstairs. It’s a nice place to take Anglophile French friends.

Congratulations again on getting into Cambridge to read History. You got in on merit and hard work so you’re fully deserving of your place. Make the most of it. It’s good that you’re taking a year out before you go up to study. I think many universities will only just be picking up the pieces from the awful mess the pandemic will have left them with.

Thanks for your question.

[ahiddenpath]

Nanowrimo Week 1 Update

Hey all!  The end of today marks the first week of Nanowrimo!  The benchmark for today is 11,667 words total.  Yikes!  

There’s a progress update and a snipped of my draft below the cut ;)

Okay, first: some housekeeping.  My old Nanowrimo word Count Blog Widget done broke on me!  I’m guessing there’s an external image issue or some kind of bandwith issue due to Nanowrimo usage?  I switched to a simple HTML tag that doesn’t rely on external images.  It doesn’t look as nice, but it works, and that is more important, lol.  Here’s the HTML to add to your bloggy:

<strong>Nanowrimo Counter 2017:</strong>

<img src="http://picometer.writertopia.com/words=11131&target=50000">

Just change 11131 to your total word count, and you’re done!  So easy :D

Okay!  So, my progress!

My current word total is... 12,774!  Which means I’m about 25% done and 1,100 words ahead, so I’m doing alright.  One concern is that I think I’m going to run out of outline about 15 days into nanowrimo, so I have to put effort into outlining the last few chapters of Seeking Resonance ASAP, lol!!!  Otherwise I’mma hit a wall in a week or so, oh noooo!

Crap, what happens next?  I have no idea, lol!  XD XD XD  WHO’S DRIVING THIS THING?!

So far, the writing has been alright.  It hasn’t been flowing super well, but it hasn’t been a tooth-pulling nightmare, either.  This is a terrible rough draft, but that’s normal for Nanowrimo (and honestly, normal in general).  It’ll shine up just fine later.

If you’re interested, he’s a raw excerpt from Nanowrimo Week One!  SO MANY ADVERBS, lol XD  Tentative title:  In Which Koushiro is Hazed by Children and a Grandma.

Although he had never been to Eimi’s market, her descriptions and an online search had led him here without difficulty.  Admittedly, he had expected more than a stretch of stalls lining either side of a cobbled street.  It seemed so quaint and sleepy, hardly worth her almost daily visits.

But this is what Eimi-san likes.  Koushiro approached the end stall, feeling oddly out of place.  The closest thing he had seen to an open air market was news stands and street food vendors pushed too close together in Tokyo, and those were flashier and louder.  Instead of a middle age man screaming into the passing crowd, he encountered an old woman dozing in a chair behind the cart.  Colorful vegetables were stacked in wooden crates tipped towards the street, a rainbow display of food.

Sweat beads that had formed during the walk merged into droplets that slid down his forehead.  Koushiro was so focused on finding food Eimi usually purchased at her market that he hadn’t considered what to buy.  He tried to think of what she had served him in the past, but quickly realized that, even with the ingredients, he wouldn’t know how to make it.

Chicken noodle soup.  They say that’s good for recovering, right?  But what goes into that?  Carrots?  Onions?  Perhaps a salad would be simpler…  He checked the lettuce stock and was alarmed to find that the old woman carried multiple varieties.  There’s more than one type of lettuce?!

So great was his panic that Koushiro failed to hear the approach of pattering feet.  When a high voice shouted, “Aegis!”, he jumped forward, and the crates rattled when he hit the cart.  The old woman stirred, straightened, and stared at her customer.

“Ah, good afternoon,” Koushiro said.  He tried to smile at the old woman, but most of his attention was the children swarming at knee level.  Three kids, a girl and two boys, had materialized, forming a fairy ring around Aegis.  Koushiro tensed when the girl threw her arms around the dog, but Aegis sat quietly and wagged his tail.  He relaxed, reassured that Aegis wouldn’t jump and accidentally knock the children over.  

The taller boy stood on tiptoe to see the old woman over the cart.  “Baba, look!  It’s Aegis!  Why do you have Aegis, mister?  Where is Eimi-oneesan?”

The old woman blinked, then leaned forward.  “Eh?  Is it Aegis, Minoru?  I can’t see over the cart.”

“It’s Aegis, it’s Aegis!” the girl cried.  “Pretty Aegis!  We missed you!  Good doggy!”  

Koushiro stepped back, unsure of how to behave.  His classes were usually offered to students pursuing higher degrees, and he hadn’t interacted with a child since he was one, himself.  Although they had different faces, these three seemed identical at a glance.  They painted an idyllic picture of children enjoying summer in the countryside: denim shorts, tee shirts, sneakers, tanned skin, messy hair, and the occasional dirt smudge.

The children continued to love on Aegis, which frankly looked like harassment from Koushiro’s perspective, but the old woman was focused on him.  Koushiro cleared his throat and said, “Um, pardon me, but do you know Anami Eimi?  I’m doing some shopping for her, but I’m afraid I forgot to request a list.”

She stared at him for a long moment before answering.  “Yes, we all know Eimi-chan.  She’s visited our market most days for years.  We were looking forward to seeing her again after her tour, but she never came.  We were going to send Minoru over in a few days to check on her if she didn’t stop by.  Is everything alright?”

“Um…”  Was it his imagination, or were the other vendors watching this exchange?  Koushiro gave himself a tiny shake and forced himself to look at the woman addressing him.  “I’m afraid Eimi-san took ill a few days ago.”

Minoru stopped mid-pat and whirled around.  “Eimi-oneesan is sick?!” he shouted.  Koushiro’s mouth twitched into a grimace that he quickly straightened. 

The old woman sighed and cupped her cheek.  “Oh, the poor dear.  There aren’t any colds going around…”

“What’s wrong?!” Minoru demanded.  “Will she get better?  Can I visit?”

“Um-”  If Koushiro inched back any further, he’d be standing in front of the next cart.  What was he supposed to say?  While Eimi would find Minoru’s concern endearing, Koushiro doubted that exposure to a loud, energetic child would be welcome at the moment.  “I’m afraid she isn’t well enough for visitors.  Eimi-san was in the hospital, but she’s discharged and on bed rest now.”

The boy’s dark eyes went wide and wild.  “Eimi-oneesan was in the hospital?!”

Why does he feel the need to parrot me at screaming volume?  “Y-yes, but she’s recovering.  She needs some quiet and good food, which is why I’m here.”  He smiled at the vendor, hoping he didn’t look as overwhelmed as he felt.  He must have failed, because she slid from her chair to her feet and walked around the cart.

While the children fussed, Minoru over Eimi and the younger two over Aegis, the old woman approached and tugged the handle of one of Koushiro’s cloth bags.  He surrendered it and watched as she packed it with vegetables.  “Like I said,” she began, “Eimi-chan has come here most days for years.  Minoru walks Aegis when she’s away on short trips.  We all know her…”

She placed a few carrots on top of the growing stack of vegetables, then paused.  Although this woman was a stranger, Koushiro was instantly wary of that mischievous smile.  “Or at least, we thought we did.  Who knew she had such a cute boyfriend?!  Good for her!  But really, making a young lady walk back and forth alone every day, goodness!  You’re supposed to escort her!  Honestly, we were all trying to set her up!  You had better take good care of her while she’s sick, understood?  My oldest grandson is quite handsome, you know!”

Koushiro lifted his hands and moved them in flustered motions, but he was too shocked to string together a vocal denial.  “Hey!” Minoru cried.  “I’m not the oldest!”

His grandmother tittered and patted the boy’s head.  “I’m afraid Eimi-chan is too old for you.  Akio is about the right age.”

“Nuh uh!  I’m ten!”  Minoru stomped his foot and jabbed his thumb against his chest.  “That’s double digits!  I bet Eimi-oneesan isn’t that much older!  Akio-oniichan is waaaaaaay too old!”

“Oh, my.”  The old woman grinned at Koushiro and shook her head.  “Regardless, it seems we old ladies don’t need to play matchmaker after all.”

Koushiro’s frozen tongue finally came unstuck.  “T-that’s not-  I’m afraid-  Eimi-san and I aren’t-  We’re friends.”  He assumed this would appease everyone, especially Minoru, but the boy stomped his foot more violently.

“What!  Why not!  If I were bigger, I would date Eimi-oneesan and take care of her!”

“Oh dear, oh dear.”  The old lady tipped her head to the side, but Koushiro recognized the glint of mischief in her eyes.  “Hush, Minoru, don’t scold the poor man.  I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, dear.  Here, please take these.”

Okay, so that’s it!  I’ll check in again next week!  Please cheer me on, and thanks for reading! 

[naturecoaster]

Get Picking Blueberries Now at the Farm for Fun and Health in 2023

Walking into the field, with its long, straight rows of three- to four-foot-tall blueberry bushes laden with fruit is a spiritual experience for me. Right at shoulder height are bundles of green (don’t pick 'em), blue, and deep purple orbs full of sweet juice and firm flesh that make my mouth happy! I start by walking up to the field’s caretaker in the fresh, clean air. Greeted with a “Welcome. Do you need a bucket?” I thank them and tie the white container around my waist, make sure I have plenty of drinking water and reply, “Where’s the best area to pick today?” After choosing the best location, I venture out into one of the most peaceful places on earth for me: the blueberry field. My close-toed shoes will protect my feet from ants, sand, stinging nettle, or creepy crawlies, my hat will protect my face from the effects of Florida’s sun, and my appetite will be primed for some of the best eating I have ever enjoyed – just-picked blueberries. I snatch the best-looking berry from the closest bush as I walk by to my chosen starting point and pop it into my mouth. YUM! A burst of sweetness, with a chaser of a tiny tartness explodes on my tongue, providing a healthy, delicious sensation that can only be sated from April to mid-May on the Nature Coast. Best Blueberry Farms on Florida's Nature Coast When choosing a farm to pick your blueberries at, consider the following ones: - Bette’s Blues Blueberry Farm – Citrus Springs - Green Acres You Pick Blueberry Farm – Spring Hill - JG Ranch – Brooksville - Starkey Farms – New Port Richey - Upicktopia – Masaryktown You can click on each link above to see their hours, locations, and additional activities. There are other farms in the region, but these particular farms have worked with NatureCoaster and we trust them. Children love to pick blueberries, making it a great family activity. Image courtesy of Florida Best Blueberry Farm. Did you know that Florida is the eighth largest producer of commercial blueberries in the U.S.? We are blessed to have several commercial and u-pick farms in Pasco, Hernando, and Citrus Counties. Some berry farms include play areas, some have shelters, some have prepicked berries, and some are wide open. Some have blackberries and vegetables available for upick also. The Green Acres You Pick Blueberries Farm is having markets each weekend and they have adorable in the 2023 season. Upicktopia has a winery and restaurant onsite. All have restrooms of some type – often the portable kind. Brooksville is Celebrating with a Blueberry Festival April 29-30 Brooksville's Blueberry Festival features Colt Ford for 2023! There are so many great bands, vendors and activities, we are writing a feature next week. Best of all, we have a Blueberry Festival in Brooksville April 29-30, 2023! Next week, we will write about this exciting event with music headliner, Colt Ford, over 320 vendors, nonprofits providing crafts and fun for the kiddos, and activities like a blueberry eating contest, Mr. & Ms. Blueberry pageants, blueberry shortcake, blueberry wine, blueberry beer, and more! And its FREE! How Blueberries become a Commercial Crop in the Nature Coast Blueberries began being grown commercially in Florida in the 1970s, with University of Florida developing a southern highbush variety that launched the industry in 1976 called “Sharpblue.” Sharpblue is the foundational cultivar for southern highbush blueberry production. In 1996, UF brought out Star, which offered early ripening and high-fruit quality. Jewel came in 1998. 1999 brought the Emerald variety, which is well-adapted to Central Florida, and the most commonly grown blueberry variety in Florida. Snowchaser came on the scene in 2005, and as one of the earliest-ripening southern highbush varieties in the world, giving farmers the ability to grow high-quality fruit in a window when market prices are often high. Its fruit has excellent flavor and aroma, and it has performed well in evergreen production systems which is quite important as we are seeing temperatures climb each year. Farmers make money both by the quantity of produce grown and by the price that fruit gets. The price per pound is based on supply and demand. If the market is flooded with produce, the per pound rate will be lower than if it is difficult to get. Size and quality of produce adds into the mix also. Many local farms have planted several blueberry varieties to provide fresh fruit for several weeks. Picking blueberries is a fun family activity with great health benefits. University of Florida has created several southern highbush varieties to help farmers capitalize on the commercial market. Image courtesy of Cavallo Farm. All About Blueberries: Random Blueberry Facts Blueberries are ranked No. 1 in antioxidant activity compared out of 40 commercially available fruits and vegetables. That means a serving of blueberries has more of the antioxidant power you need to fight aging, cancer, and heart disease. 1 cup of blueberries normally weighs about 143 grams, or 1/3 of a pound, so 1 pound of blueberries is almost 3 cups’ worth. Many recipes call for 3 to 4 cups of blueberries for a 9-inch pie. 1 cup (143 grams) of blueberries is 84 calories. Blueberries contain no cholesterol or fat and are also low in calories. Blueberries are high in dietary fiber, Vitamin A, and niacin. They contain iron and other trace minerals and are a fair source of Vitamin C. Blueberries have a diverse range of micronutrients, with notably high levels  of the manganese, vitamin B6, vitamin C, vitamin K and dietary fiber. One serving provides a relatively low glycemic load score of 4 out of 100 per day. In wild species, blueberries have been found to contain anthocyanins, other antioxidant pigments, and various phytochemicals possibly having a role in reducing risks of some diseases, including inflammation and different cancers. Researchers have shown that blueberry anthocyanins, proanthocyanidins, resveratrol, flavonols, and tannins inhibit cancer cell development and inflammation in the womb. Some blueberry species contain significant levels of resveratrol in their skins, a phytochemical with increasing evidence as an anti-cancer compound. Whenever you go to a farm, follow the tips below to get the most from your experience. Image by David Collins. Practical Tips for Getting the Most from Your Blueberry U-Pick Experience Call the Farm before you Visit – Make sure the farm you plan to visit has the fruit you’re looking for available for picking when you want to visit and that they are not having weather issues. Protect yourself – Bring water and wear a hat, plenty of sunscreen, close-toed shoes, and clothes that you don’t mind getting a little stained with blueberry juice. Long sleeves protect you from too much sun exposure – and please REST when you get tired. Be aware that dehydration can make you sick. Pick One bush at a time – Find a bush with plenty of ripe berries and stick with it until you’ve picked it clean. This can be difficult, as another bush’s fruit may lure you, but you’ll save more energy for picking if you’re not moving around a lot, and you’ll leave other bushes in better condition for your fellow pickers. Get in there – Don’t just pick the berries from the very front of the bush. The best clusters of plump, ripe berries are often on the undersides of branches. Be Gentle with the Fruit – The best way to pick blueberries is to roll the berries between your thumb and the palm of your hand. The ripe ones easily fall off. Remember, if the berry doesn’t want to leave the bush, it isn’t ripe enough for you! Bring a Cooler – You can carry water up to the farm in the cooler. It can get awfully hot in the car during your picking adventure. On the way home, your fruit will store better in a cooler. How to Wash and Store Blueberries To clean blueberries, put the amount you need in a colander and rinse them under cold water using a gentle spray. Spread the berries out on paper towels and let them air dry for a few hours. If you’re storing blueberries in the refrigerator, don’t wash your blueberries until you are ready to eat them or use them. Moisture from washing causes them to go bad more quickly. Refrigerate fresh berries right after your visit to the blueberry patch. Store them in a large, open bowl or container. Don't forget to pick fresh blueberries, blackberries, stawberries and more in season! Image by Diane Bedard. How to Freeze Blueberries Rinse and dry blueberries before freezing them. Freeze blueberries in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet that fits in your freezer for 30 minutes. Then transfer your berries to a resealable bag. Remove as much air as possible from the bag, label with the date and store the bags flat for stacking. How Long Do Fresh-Picked Blueberries Last? If properly stored, blueberries can last up to 2 weeks in the refrigerator, though they are best when eaten within a week. Blueberries can last up to 10 months in the freezer but retain the most flavor until the 6-month mark. Read the full article

[floresgavriil-blog]

If you’re looking to narrow down the best places to visit in Vietnam, it’s going to be a very tough decision. Vietnam has so much to offer any traveler that ventures to it, and is a mix of chaos and calm from the contrasts of Ho Chi Minh City to the mountainous regions of the Northern Highlands.

At one moment you could find yourself cruising through the endless creeks and rivers of The Mekong Delta and the next, sitting beachside at Hue or Nha Trang.

Vietnam on a map is somewhat squeezed to the edge of the South China Sea to the east with China hugging the northernmost border of the country. While to the west Laos and Cambodia both share a large border with Vietnam.

Despite its rough history, Vietnam’s popularity to travellers far and wide has soared in recent years making it one of the most visited countries in South East Asia.

At first glance, Vietnam might seem to be a place of constant activity but if you go to the right places, you will find the most magnificent vistas, people, food, and a peaceful way of life.

Whether you have one week or one month in Vietnam, this article is bound to give sensational ideas on the best places to visit in Vietnam!

Gondola’s in the Huong Tich Mountains

The Best Places to Visit in Vietnam

1. The Mekong Delta

Boats on the Mekong River

First up on the list of Vietnam places to visit is the mighty Mekong. The Mekong Delta is a biodiversity hotspot and a place of calm. With an almost endless system of rivers and creeks to follow, the Mekong Delta is truly special.

Getting to the Mekong Delta from Ho Chi Minh is rather easy and is worth weaving your way out of the chaotic morning traffic to do so. The Mekong is a very big place so there are many things to do and see.

My Tho

To start off your adventure in the Mekong, I would recommend seeking out My Tho which is the closest town to Ho Chi Minh. My Tho is the gateway to the Mekong meaning that a lot of fresh produce passes through its doors. Rice, coconuts, and durian a few food items you will see a lot of here.

From My Tho, I highly recommend an early morning adventure by the aid of a boat through Vinh Long’s Cai Be Floating Markets where everything fresh sells by the kilogram or tonne, depending on what you buy!

Tra Vinh

If you are looking to truly experience the Mekong Delta, Tra Vinh is the perfect place to do so as it is located some distance from the main roads meandering throughout the delta.

Tra Vinh might not be well known to foreign visitors but it is secretly a spot dotted with hundreds of pagodas (a type of temple or shrine). Sunrise in Tra Vinh is a must see as a layer of morning mist covers the land making the shrines appear like they are on another planet.

Ben Tre

Some of my most memorable moments came from a little place called Ben Tre. It was here that I was invited into a family home to watch a game of football on a tiny television.

I could not speak Vietnamese and the family could not speak English leaving a communication barrier, however we could communicate through the game of football as we all knew exactly what was going on!

Another incredible moment happened during an early morning bike ride over the Ham Luong River. In the distance, a monstrous but beautiful storm cloud rumbled away as the morning sun turned the cloud into a bright orange as boats would chug away underneath the bridge I sat upon.   

I would recommend spending at least 2 to 3 days at a minimum in the Mekong Delta as there are plenty of places to see and things to do. It’s definitely one of the best places to visit in Vietnam!

2. Ho Chi Minh City

Late afternoon relaxing

My first impression of Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City) was chaotic and humid with a hint of charm, but after visiting I definitely think it is one of the best places to visit in Vietnam. I was dropped off at my hotel in the central part of the city and the only thing stopping me from getting to the hotel reception was a myriad of zooming scooters, motorbikes, trucks and cars.

Eventually, I learned how to cross roads when they are busy, which you’ll have to do too as a visitor. Once you graduate to crossing a street in a Vietnamese city the world is your oyster.

Ho Chi Minh’s population is 8.6 million spread over places known as ‘districts.’ These districts number up to 19 which is quite beneficial especially if Vietnamese isn’t your strongest language.

District 1 is the central most part of the city and will most likely be the area where you are staying. A few highlights of Ho Chi Minh City are…

Vietnam’s Notre-Dame Cathedral

Ho Chi Minh has many attractions which are relatively close to one another, the first being French/ Vietnamese version of The Notre-Dame Cathedral. Be warned this one is somewhat smaller, yet still intact to the one in Paris. Expect to see married couples posing outside of the cathedral on a daily basis.

Across from the Notre-Dame Cathedral, the pinkish building with a large clock in the middle is the General Post Office where most travel to even from foreign countries in order to post a letter or postcard.

During the Vietnam/ American War, the Reunification Palace is another landmark in Hoi Chi Minh. This palace, at the time of the conflict held South Vietnam’s President only to have armored tanks storm and crash the front gates. These images at the time made news coverage globally.

Ben Thanh Markets

Ho Chi Minh City is known for its seriously enormous markets and the one that is bigger than them all goes to Ben Thanh Markets. These markets to be exact are 119,000 square feet, or a couple of football fields.

The Ben Thanh Markets sell almost everything – and I mean everything. If you like to shop you will definitely come out with more than you need. I went looking for street food and ended up buying a bag full of t-shirts.

Vietnam’s fresh vegetable markets

War Remnants Museum

Before leaving Ho Chi Minh City, I highly recommend visiting the War Remnants Museum to get a perspective on just how terrible to war was to those living in Vietnam.

The War Remnants Museum houses photos from the war, planes, tanks and three levels within the building showcasing the terrors of the war.

Aside from the many tourist attractions in Ho Chi Minh City, simply walking around the streets during sunrise was an amazing thing especially at some of the local parks where locals would be stretching, playing football, chess or getting in a morning workout.

Ho Chi Minh City isn’t always busy so make the most of the mornings when everyone is still sleeping and if you want to get somewhere such as the Mekong Delta or out of the city to Dalat, leave early to avoid heavy traffic and lengthy delays.

3. Dalat

Scooters are allowed everywhere!

Spending too much time basking in intense humidity can’t be too good for you, so for some relief, Dalat is the perfect mountain getaway. Dalat is perched 1,500 metres above the South China Sea and only a few hours’ drive from Ho Chi Minh making it a seriously idyllic city escape.

Vietnam is home to a variety of environments including mountainous areas and these are Vietnam’s best-kept secrets. Dalat is surrounded by forests of pines, agriculture farms and many waterfalls which are 100% swimmable!

Dalat’s Central Market is the perfect place to go for a bowl of Pho;a vegetable or meat broth infused with noodles, meat or vegetables topped with chilies, basil and spring onions. Dalat’s produce will be immensely better than what you would taste in Ho Chi Minh, so eat your heart out!

Dalat is located on the shores of Xuan Huong Lake which is a fantastic morning stroll around the rather brown looking lake. Hiring a bicycle is a good option if you plan on exploring Dalat but be prepared for hill climbs!

Relaxing by waterfalls is a must while in the Southern Highlands. One, in particular, that is my favorite is Tiger Falls, some 14 kilometers east of Dalat.

Tiger Falls is a solid half-day adventure which requires some gnarly navigation skills enroute to the waterfall making it so much more fun.

Having gone from the hustle and bustle of Ho Chi Minh to the natural wonders of Dalat, exploring Vietnam’s coast is a must do!

4. Nha Trang

Nha Trang from above!

From the mountains of Dalat, heading north, Nha Trang is a serious must do. Nha Trang is a hidden gem located on Vietnam’s south-central coast where coral reefs flourish, beaches are relatively free of rubbish and the views are stunning!

A must do while in Nha Trang is a day adventure and cruise out to the neighboring islands to go snorkeling or diving amongst the corals and tropical fish.o Or if you prefer to lay on the beach and do nothing I won’t blame you for doing so!

On land, Nha Trang has a place where you can go immerse your body in warm mud that is said to be beneficial to your skin at Thap Ba Hot Springs. Being covered in mud not your thing? No worries!

Nha Trang has some top quality bars by the sea which are great for sunset drinks but if you prefer to tuck into Vietnam’s salivating street food, I would recommend Dam Market, a place generally void of tourists where prices are a lot cheaper than beach side restaurants.

5. Hoi An

Hoi An during a misty morning

Hoi An might be my favorite city in Vietnam with its gorgeous French charm, peaceful riverside influence and exceptional fresh produce. It’s definitely one of the top places to see in Vietnam.

The best way to start off an adventure in Hoi An is at the Central Market Cho Hoi An for exceptional Vietnamese food. As Hoi An is heavily influenced by France, Bahn Mi never fails to deliver with a baguette filled with fresh herbs, cucumber and meat topped with a hot sauce.

A lot of tourism in Hoi An revolves around custom clothing especially suits and pants. Some of Hoi An’s streets are dedicated to tailors and the end product is generally very good, cheap, and the waiting time is usually less than a day for a custom piece to be made. A few top sites in Hoi An are:

The Japanese Bridge

While most of Hoi An is influenced by France, there is an exception with The Japanese Bridge, built during the 16th century. The Japanese Bridge isn’t for traffic; instead it serves as a shrine on the inside to commemorate the Japanese Emperors of the time (that being the year of the dog and year of the monkey).

For a few Vietnamese dong, an incense stick can be purchased in order to pay respects.

Hoi An’s Japanese Bridge

Coastal Hoi An

Central Hoi An is very close to the East Vietnam Sea where spectacular coastlines spread from north to south. Most beaches in Hoi An have a bar or restaurant prime for cracking open a fresh, chilled coconut and watching the last rays of light disappear.

If you are keen on checking out Hoi An’s coastal areas, I suggest hiring a bicycle as the ride weaves through rice paddy fields as water buffalo frolic in mud. By bike, it takes about 30 minutes each way.

6. My Son Temple

The remains of a temple at My Son

One hour west of Hoi An, My Son Temple is a complex series of Hindu temples, pagodas and dense rainforest said to date back to the 2nd century. Guided tours operate on a daily basis and provide a look into the life of the Champa, an ancient kingdom.

My Son Temple has survived a lot of hardships including the recent war were the temple was targeted by bomber planes where craters the size of swimming pools are still seen around this historic complex.

My Son Temple is so important to the people of Vietnam and its culture that it was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its cultural values and being part of an Ancient Civilization in Asia.

7. Da Nang

One of Vietnam’s most famous views

Getting to Da Nang is an adventure in itself and if you were to ask a local where the most scenic views are in Vietnam is they’d probably say the Hai Van Pass. The first time I saw the Hai Van Pass and The Lang Co Peninsula was on an episode of Top Gear.

Da Nang is located in central Vietnam and very nearly is equal in distance to both Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi. Da Nang is a less traveled destination and is generally bypassed due to it serving as a place of industrial and economic purposes however, don’t write it off just yet as there are a few things to do in Da Nang! My two favorites were to see Dragon Bridge and explore Cao Dai Temple.

Da Nang probably has the most awesome bridge anywhere in Asia, or the world with the so-called Dragon Bridge tailing over the Han River. The Dragon Bridge isn’t just something that is driven over, it sprays fire and water while changing color which would be very distracting when crossing on a scooter.

One of the more strange temples that can be visited is the Cao Dai Temple which is seemingly confusing especially the architecture. The temple doesn’t host just one religion, but I honestly cannot even tell you how many it does. The purpose of the temple states ‘all religions have the same purpose’.

8. Hue

Continuing north, Hue is known to most as the Imperial City or Citadel where a fortress was built during 1804. The Imperial Citadel at the time was impenetrable with a moat, the Perfume River while being protected by eight meter high walls.

Within the Imperial Citadel, there are a multitude of buildings, pagodas, temples and courtyards of gigantic scale. Unfortunately during the war, a lot of damage was inflicted upon the citadel and to this day, repairs are still being made.

Exploring the citadel can be as short or as long as you want it to be. Guided tours in the citadel are also a good option as there are so many things going on with history, types of buildings, and war knowledge so having someone with local information join your day is truly worth it.

9. Halong Bay

Halong Bay tops the list as the most beautiful place to visit in Vietnam. It is certainly a Vietnam tourist spot, but a worthwhile and unique one! I remember the first time I saw Halong Bay as I watched the hosts of Top Gear navigate the limestone islands on their boats/ scooters and the scenery they were in was incredible! A few years later, I got to experience Halong Bay for myself.

There’s no doubt, Halong Bay is the most visited place in Vietnam by foreigners putting increasing pressure on the environment and resources however things seem to be improving.

So what do you do in Halong Bay? Halong Bay and its hundreds of limestone islands can only be accessed by boat or kayak. So the first step is to find a company to go with and decide if you just want to visit for a day or do an overnight experience.

Kayaking in Halong Bay

Once you have decided on your trip, there are so many places to check out and the best way to do so is via a kayak. Cat Ba Island is one of the largest islands with a multitude of beaches, waterfalls and hiking trails while precious reefs surround the shores of the island.

Kayaking by far is the best thing you can do in Halong Bay as there are endless places to explore with caves, waterfalls and monkey’s jumping from tree to tree trying to get a glimpse of you in the kayak.

Halong Bay is one of the most unique places in Vietnam and that is due to the people that live in floating houses, sometimes never setting foot on land. Most of the floating houses have markets where fresh vegetables, fruits and sometimes even poultry are sold so why not check them out!

Overnight junk boat cruise

If you have time, I highly suggest an overnight cruise! Overnight cruises are seriously the most chilled out thing you can do in Halong Bay as there’s more relaxing on the sundeck and eating delicious Vietnamese food to be had.

A general cruise leaves from the town of Ha Long and set sail towards the islands usually around midday. Most of the boats have fairly good rooms, a bar, dining area and a sun deck along with kayaks making it the perfect way to get out and explore Vietnam’s natural wonders. We went on the Au Co by Bhaya Cruises and had a fantastic time – see the full review here.

For the best weather in Halong Bay, make sure to visit in the warmer months from April to October.

10. Hanoi

Vietnam’s flag

Hanoi is one of those Vietnam points of interests you can’t miss. The capital of Vietnam is a step back from the chaos of Ho Chi Minh with a charming vibe of old buildings, lakes, pagodas and intricate system of streets dedicated to selling a particular item. If I had to choose a city to spend more time in, Hanoi would be it.

I spent six days exploring Hanoi and surrounds doing a whole complexity of different things, but before leaving Hanoi to explore its wonders there are just so many places to see in the city first.

Getting around Hanoi is so much easier than that of Ho Chi Minh and that is partly due to a milder and cooler climate. The chances of breaking out into a sweat by 8 am are unlikely. A few of the best things to do in Hanoi are:

Lake Hoan Kiem

My perfect day in Hanoi would start by Lake Hoan Kiem which once was home to a rare tortoise said to be sacred and if you spotted it, it would bring a lifetime of good luck! At one end of the lake, the Rising Sun Bridge leads to Ngoc Son Temple where a taxidermy tortoise remains the centerpiece to the temple.

The Old Quarter

Some of Hanoi’s Old Quarter dates back to the 13th century. Today, the Old Quarter has some of the best street food, beer and historic buildings in all of the city.

Hanoi’s Old Quarter might take the award for the most unique place to visit with 36 streets dedicated to selling specific items. For instance, Hang Chieu Street is solely dedicated to selling mats for houses or Hang Bo Street sells mainly bamboo baskets. If you are after something very specific, you are sure to find it in Hanoi.

Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

The Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

The Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum structure is unlike anything else in Hanoi, a building made from marble and granite to house the body of Uncle Ho. Uncle Ho is received by many Vietnamese as a hero showing courageous leadership throughout the American/ Vietnam War.

Uncle Ho is known to most as Ho Chi Minh and on certain occasions, his body can be visited at the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.

Bia Hoi Corner

Time for a beer at Bia Corner

After a long days exploration, there’s no better way than to soak up the atmosphere than by taking a seat recommended for a child, delving into a bowl of pho and washing it down with Hanoi’s famous Bia Hoi, a preservative-free beer.

Bia Hoi Corner is quite chaotic and finding a seat is a challenge in itself as everyone rushes to get the first glass of freshly brewed beer as once the keg is empty, there won’t be any for another 24 hours.

A glass of Bia Hoi costs roughly 3200 dong and the best thing about the bia is that it will not give you a headache!

Whilst sipping away, Bia Hoi Corner becomes a haven for street vendors where Bahn Mi, household items and basically anything you can think of are sold. So sit back and watch Hanoi go by!

11. Perfume Pagoda

The Perfume Pagoda

At first, I was unsure of what else to do other than to stick to Hanoi. However after going on an array of adventures within three hours of the city, it opened up a whole new world of places to visit in Vietnam.

Vietnam’s Perfume Pagoda and Buddhist Temple; Huong Tich Grotto require an epic adventure into the depths of the Hoang Son Mountains to find a Buddhist Temple that almost seems hidden and getting there is by far the most extraordinary part of the day.

Starting off in a wooden canoe or kayak, you are rowed down the Perfume River in a unique technique as the rowers use their feet to steer and row instead of their hands, you really need to see it to believe it.

90 minutes later and depending on the flow of the river, you disembark the boat and stroll into a seemingly abandoned town where lots of restaurants line the cobbled street.

Ideally, you’ll want to fuel up on food before continuing on and there’s no better way to do so than eating fresh cuisine like rice-paper rolls filled with vegetables; banh trang cuon nuong or Vietnam’s famous jackfruit, a spikey fruit the size of a bowling ball!

Vietnam’s Perfume Pagoda including that of Thien Tru Pagoda is a collection of ancient Buddhism statues, pagoda’s, and shrines immersed into the lush forests surrounds. The Perfume Pagoda, named so due to the fragrant smells that are said to flow through the Hoang Son Mountains.

After visiting the temples of the Perfume Pagoda, Huong Tich Grotto is close by, so get back back in the boat and head up stream!

12. Buddhist Temple; Huong Tich Grotto

Vietnam’s remote cave systems

After the Perfume Pagoda, you may as well head to Huong Tich Grotto. The last part of the journey can be done according to preference; taking the scenic route on a gondola over the Hoang Son Mountains or the stairs…I definitely chose the stairs.

Once at the top of the mountains, the views are jaw-dropping! At the top of the mountain, a steep staircase takes you into the heart of Hoang Son Mountain to where the Buddhist Temple lay.

This particular Buddhist Temple is like no other in Vietnam or the world with stalagmites and stalactites are everywhere in sight. At the end of the temple, the Buddha can be seen as pilgrims pray under a dimly lit cave.

13. Ninh Binh

Ninh Binh is simply the best of Vietnam. In Cameron and Natasha’s opinion, Ninh Binh is the best place to visit in Vietnam. Just a short train journey away from Hanoi, Ninh Binh is ideal for anyone who only has a few spare days around the capital.

Ninh Binh was described by a fellow traveler as being like Ha Long Bay, just less popular and with less water, and that’s exactly what it is!

Once you arrive you’ll be surrounded by hundreds of limestone monoliths, topped with beautiful dense greenery that elegantly emerge right from the earth.

There are plenty of things to do in Ninh Binh like explore Bai Dinh and Bich Dong Pagodas. Another option is to climb Hang Mua Peak, or just venture around on a motorbike. Ninh Binh i picking up in popularity on the Vietnam backpacker trail too, meaning there are plenty of delicious places to eat. Make sure to get to Chookies for healthy vegan food and an iced coconut coffee!

14. Tam Coc

Just near Ninh Binh Town, another fine day trip from Hanoi is Tam Coc. This is a truly stunning area of Vietnam that is best seen by the river. Much like the Perfume Pagoda trip, Tam Coc requires hiring a wooden boat and a rower to take you through Halong Bay like landscapes, rice paddy fields and a series of caves which are quite spooky.

Picking the right time of year to go Tam Coc is crucial as the scenes are much more beautiful when the rice paddies haven’t been harvested. Once everything gets pulled up, there’s a lot of muddy water and no lush green crops to see. However choosing travel times can be difficult as the harvest season is so broad so you may just have to be lucky!

Getting to Tam Coc is the hard part and although it might not seem far from Hanoi, the roads have seen better days so expect the journey to Tam Coc to take 2.5 hours. Or you can just stay in Ninh Binh!

15. Sa Pa

Still wondering where to go in Vietnam? From the Mekong Delta to the far reaches of Vietnam, Sa Pa is about as far as you can go before you cross into China. Once you escape the city of Hanoi, Vietnam’s natural wonders shine and it’s truly one of the most spectacular off the track destinations you can go in Vietnam

Getting to Sa Pa is no easy feat taking 12 hours by train from Hanoi. I highly recommend purchasing a sleeper cabin because of this.

Sa Pa is known for its hillside rice paddy fields extending as far as the eye can see while Vietnam’s tallest mountain shows drastic contrast to the rest of Vietnam.

Mount Fansipan soars to 3.143 meters and is known as the ‘roof of Indochina’. Hiking to the top is an option, but a grueling one, otherwise opt for a gondola.

If you are traveling from south to north, make Sa Pa your last stop as it truly reflects what Vietnam is all about, enriched in traditional culture, unattached from civilization and completely immersed in nature. Sa Pa is incredible.

When is the Best Time of Year to Travel to Vietnam?

Ho Chi Minh City

To avoid the monsoon season, October to April is recommended however temperatures will be higher.

Da Nang

September and October by far has the highest rainfall while temperatures peak from May to August.

Hanoi

Hanoi has the best climate in Vietnam making the best months to visit from December through to April.

How to Travel Around Vietnam?

Fresh fruit is always available

Getting around Vietnam is easier than you think with trains, buses and bikes readily available. If you are planning on hiring a scooter or motorbike for a length of the country adventure, I highly recommend being an experienced rider as road conditions throughout the country can be terrible and scary at time. Always wear a helmet – it’s actually a law in Vietnam (although many don’t obey it).

If you are constrained by time, planes are a perfectly safe option in Vietnam. Opt for Vietnam Airlines over low-cost VietJet Air, which almost always runs with delays and cancellations.

Major airports are located in Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi while smaller regional airports are found in all of the mentioned places apart from the Mekong Delta and Sa Pa.

Plan Your Trip to Vietnam

Book your Halong Bay Cruise! Planning on visiting the beautiful Ha Long Bay? Read our full review of our trip and use the code THEWORLDPURSUIT20 for 20% your three-day cruise!

Need Transportation? See the best ways to get around Asia here. 

Travel Insurance: We never travel without travel insurance with World Nomads. Natasha is a bit of a worry wart and would rather stay safe than sorry. World Nomads offers incredible flexible and great plans!

Water: The water in Vietnam is not drinkable. Check out some of our favorite purified travel water bottles here. 

Guide Book: Sometimes it’s nice just to have a real book in your hands when traveling. We recommend Lonely Planet.

Adapter: Make sure you find a good universal adapter like the one I have to keep you charged. Otherwise, you may struggle to find one once you land.

Read More:

15 Best Places to Visit in Vietnam

16 Reasons Why You Need to Travel to Taiwan

16 Best Things to do in Ubud, Bali • The Spiritual Capital of Indonesia

30 Reasons Why Japan is My Favorite Country to Travel

15 Amazing Things to do in Hanoi, Vietnam • A Must Visit City

Niseko Ski Resort • 25 Things to Know For Your Ski Vacation

15 Best Things to do in Osaka, Japan

The 20 Best Honeymoon Destinations in the World

Furano Ski Resort • The Best Spot For JAPOW

13 Halong Bay Cruise Tips To Know Before Your Trip to Vietnam

30 Unique Things To Do In Japan • Ultimate Japan Bucket List

15 Worthwhile Things to do in Colombo, Sri Lanka

About the Author

Calumn Hockey

G’day! My name is Calumn Hockey and I am a keen adventurer, traveler, and photographer from Bowraville, Australia. I have a huge passion for the mountains of the Himalaya in Nepal to the Southern Alps of New Zealand while being one who loves to become immersed in local culture. Over the past few years, I have been fortunate enough to travel to some pretty epic locations such as Sri Lanka, New Zealand, Nepal, and South East Asia. I might not have a high tally of countries under my belt but there is nothing better than exploring somewhere you love in depth and becoming connected with the sights and sounds. Keen to follow my adventures? Follow me on @CalumnHockey

THANKS FOR READING!

Join Our Email List!

The post 15 Best Places to Visit in Vietnam appeared first on The World Pursuit.

[wheresmyvisa]

Kathmandu, 19-22 August 2017

We enjoyed 3 weeks of low humidity and temps in the 60s and 70s. Uganda had some moisture, but the winter temperatures kept it nice and comfortable. That was over in Nepal. The heat and humidity hit us like a soaking wet heating pad before we even stepped out of the Kathmandu Airport.

With prepay in cash the only way to get a taxi, we were stuck since none of the ATMs in the airport worked. We found a gypsy taxi driver to take us to an ATM and then our hotel, so we all smushed into the tiny car and rolled the windows down in a lame attempt to get a breeze going. We didn’t get but 5 minutes outside of the airport, when he pulled over in a quiet neighborhood, parked the car, and said he’d be back in a minute before taking off down an alley. We waited and waited in the hot car with dust and pollution hovering all around us. There was nowhere to go, no alternatives but to wait. And wait. And wait. Just as I was about to think we’d live the rest of our lives in this hot, cramped car, (or, in a few psychotic moments, that we were going to be kidnapped) he came out tucking his shirt in. When he got back into the car her said, “Toilet,” turned the car back on, and continued onto the hotel.

The dust and pollution tossed around by the vehicles in the streets were suffocating in the car. I could hardly breath, but if I closed the window I would have exploded from overheating. Anyone who knows me knows that I am extremely sensitive to heat, and especially humidity. Just about every third person in Kathmandu wears a surgical mask to filter the polluted air before breathing it in. How I wished I had one stashed in my bag.

We finally turned into an alley and through a gate, where our hotel fortunately was hiding away from the repercussions of the vehicle emissions and dirt roads. After refueling with the lunch buffet, we realized that we were in walking distance of a great shopping area and UNESCO World Heritage Site, so we decided to brave the outside world once again.

When we left the hotel on foot, it seemed like we entered a different city than the one we explored in our rogue taxi. The air was more breathable, it felt calm and walkable, and the shops and people were welcoming. After just a few blocks, Bryna and I looked at each other and agreed that we were enjoying the sites and sounds of Kathmandu and weren’t sure how it was so different from the ride in.

We couldn’t resist the luxury, texture, and bargain of the cashmere and beaded jewelry. Full sections of the markets were devoted to proud families shopping for wedding beads and other accoutrements. Stall after stall in these nuptial pockets looked the same to us, but discerning mothers inspected every last inch to find the perfect jewelry to adorn their prized brides.

We immediately bought some billowy, cotton pants, that screamed Nepal, for $3.50 each to deal with the heat. Although it’s really hot, no one wears shorts. Many even donned jeans and jackets. I did not understand.

We found Durbar Square, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and passed through the gates to explore the many temples. Although many people entered with us and proceeded into the square, we were stopped by a guard and told to pay $10 each. No one else was stopped. Why us? Being the suspicious tourists, we left and watched from the perimeter to see if anyone else would be stopped. Sure enough, the next western-looking people were stopped, and we finally saw the sign that indicated only foreigners had to pay. So we anted up and got our passes.

It didn’t take long for a tour guide to attach himself to us, whether we wanted him or not, and take us around to all of the Hindu temples honoring Shiva, the Kama Sutra (which our tour guide told us was established in Nepal during a time of decreased birth rate), and more. We visited a palace where the Kamari of Kathmandu lives. Kamari is a pre-pubescent girl selected from a certain caste, who is worshipped by Hindus and Nepal’s Buddhists. She lives like a princess (Kumari is Sanskrit for princess) apart from her family until puberty.

Our tour guide’s pal ended up joining us to help out. We found out later it was because he drinks too much and is only allowed to guide along with another licensed tour guide.

The next morning, our host in Nepal, Matrika, picked us up for a further tour of the city. We visited several temples, with my favorite being the Pashupatinath Hindu Temple on the banks of the sacred Bagmati River. Hindus cremate their deceased at the closest river. A dead body may not cross a river; however, it seems that families do carry their dead across rivers to have the honor of the Bagmati’s holy waters

We went to an elevated area across from the cremation site to view the practice somewhat discreetly. There was a steady stream of families waiting to honor their deceased family members. One fire was already going. The family was long gone, and all that remained other than the fire was an attendant to continue adding wood until the process was done. Several hundred yards away, wood was being stacked in a crisis-cross pattern for another body awaiting its next step toward reincarnation. Just a little further upriver, the body was lain on the river bank, covered in a bright orange blanket with head and feet left exposed, and feet dipped in the water. The family, dressed in casual clothing, hovered around snapping photos on their iPhones and placing their hands on their loved one’s head to express their good-byes.

In the afternoon we visited a school and a nearby orphanage for boys with physical and mental disabilities. Most of them are not able to go to school. Nepal does not have any way to provide education or therapy for them. The orphanage is run by minimal government funds supplemented by private donations that help them get more nutritious food.

We arrived at Matrika’s home early evening in a more outerlying neighborhood of Kathmandu with family homes and more breathable air. His wife made us a delicious Nepali meal of dal baht (lentils and rice) and an assortment of vegetables and cheese curds. Matrika and his wife served us each a plate, with all of the dishes dotted around the perimeter equidistant from each other, and a spoon. We waited for them to join us at the table so we could all eat together, as our American custom dictates. Matrika told us to eat, and that he and his wife would not eat until we are finished. When we looked at him confused, he explained that it is Nepali custom for the hosts to keep full attention on their guests so they can fill up our plates again the moment we are finished. We had to cover our plate to block incoming food to signify that we could not eat any more. Matrika said that his brother-in-law, who was also at the dinner table with us, was “ruined” because he too joined the American guests in using a spoon. When we assured our hosts that we were full, they sat down to eat the meal in the traditional way, with their hands.

Day 2, we visited Women for Human Rights (whr.org.np), which empowers single women (mainly widows) economically, politically, socially and culturally in order to live dignified lives and enjoy the value of human rights. WHR runs successful support programming for widows in 73 of Nepal’s 74 districts. The only district in which they are not active has a matriarchal society, so the women are more respected and their services are not required there.

Before WHR was founded over 15 years ago, widowed women in Nepal were at the lower rungs of society. They had very limited property rights, were forced to mourn for the rest of their lives by wearing only white and remaining faithful to their deceased husbands, often became slaves to their in-laws, and were ostracized by their communities. WHR now has support groups in 73 districts, and has been instrumental in the passage of several important laws that are supportive of women and widows, such as rights to property and obtaining a passport without the consent of a male family member.

We then headed out to the mountains a little outside of Kathmandu to get some fresh air. The dirt road to the mountain resort was dotted by tiny villages with cows grazing along the roadside and stubborn goats grazing in the road. We had to stop and lay on the horn before any goat would start to even think about moving for us. Our driver went back and forth between 1st and 2nd gear to go in and out of the ruts.

A cold that I had coming on for several days was in full force with aches, pains, fatigue, and runny nose. I slept for about 15 hours straight while Nick, Bryna and Becca explored the mountain and shopped for souvenirs. They brought back a singing bowl to help me meditate my illness away.

After our mountain getaway, we caught our flight for Delhi, a layover on the way to Hong Kong. But when we landed in Delhi, we found out our flight was delayed by at least 12 hours due to a typhoon in Hong Kong. Since we were only going to be in Hong Kong for 12 hours to begin with, we spent the next 3 hours scrambling to book a flight to our next destination, Sydney. Success came in the nick of time to board, and we were on our way. See you next time Hong Kong.

[ellen-reincarnated1967]

Flutter

Soulmate AU where reader has a unique set of wings where they comfort her when she’s upset and glow when she’s in the presence of her soulmate. Pairing: Cas x Reader

feedback would be crucial as this is my “come back” piece from hiatus.  so if you reblog or like, please tell me why.  i need  validation. thanks.

In the beginning, God created man and he loved them with an infinite bond, as any father would of his creation. Alas, the angels took a favor upon these humans and against God’s will, they plunged from Heaven, laid with woman, and fathered Nephilim.

Feared for being abnormal, these children, grew with such great fervor and powers that soon, humans became obsolete.  Every birth formed an infant with wings, wings to represent the hardships that the Nephilim created for their mothers.

These children soon were their only kind; born with wings of different shapes, colors, and sizes, they would “come in to their own” at the age of 21, seeking out their soulmates.

Soulmates were a rarity, however, to ensure that this species remain robust and lively, men and women, shared similarities with one another across the globe.  Their wings were the connection to their souls.  How one felt, would reverberate back in the wings. Fluttering as it was learned to be called, was when one soulmate was in close proximity to another; their wings would vibrate, shake gently, and glow iridescent.

Children could not wait until they turned the appropriate age and when they aged from infants, to children, to adolescents, their wings would perform such wondrous tasks.

YN first noticed her wings would do the most peculiar things out of nowhere.  She’d be sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast, her wings, plaited down her back, when they would of their own volition, wrap themselves around her arms, cocooning her, her body self-soothing, as she’d try to fight off what was happening, but it was as if they had a mind of their own.  

Another day, as she was making her way to the walkway, grocery bags in hand, her wings formed an impromptu umbrella hovering overhead, but not a cloud, nor rain drop was in sight.  

During the night, her wings would spread wide, the wing span twice the size of her queen bed, and they would ebb and flow up and down, causing the papers on her desk to swirl in tiny tornadoes. 

Across the town, there was another, whose wings would do abnormal things, but more so when he was feeling some sort of emotion.  Castiel’s wings were magnificent, for he was one of the last guards of Heaven, before the fall.  Just in this moment, as he sat reading ancient lore on Nephilim, he came across a passage that upset him; his wings began to spread in defense and undulate.  

Two days prior it was pouring in town and he of course forgot an umbrella but what was the point, when he had glorious, nonporous, wings to keep him sheltered from the storm?

A week before, Castiel was feeling quite emotional over the loss of a close friend Abriel and his wings instantly wrapped themselves around his torso where he rocked himself gently as tears fell from his cobalt blue eyes.  

Unbeknownst to either YN or Castiel, they were growing closer to one another and soon, the act of fluttering, would commence and they shall meet face to face, wings to wings.  

Castiel never thought, no, nix that, he never believed in soul mates until his closest friends Dean and Sam Winchester found theirs; Dean and Jo had found one another in a bar that her mother owned, their feathers fluttering with gusto and Dean’s emerald green feathers glowed with such zeal when Jo’s began to flutter and illuminate as well. Her’s were a mix of ambers and reds, a match made in an artist’s heaven.  

Sam and Eileen met in a bookstore where he was checking out the librarian, insert Eileen here, and their wings fluttered so passionately that books flew off the shelves.  Sam’s wings spread and shone brightly for Eileen to see and as she folded herself into his chest, his wings were large enough to cover both of them as they kissed for the very first time.

It was disheartening that at his age, which he would with remorse tell everyone he was older than the dirt you tread upon, that he had yet to meet his soulmate. There were moments where his wings would flutter, but as soon as he’d get his hopes up, he’d realize it was a speeding bus to his left, or the wind picking up around him, or another set of soulmates who had found one another, sending feathers, even the tiniest ones on fledglings, to flap.

“Cas, listen,” Dean was at his best friend’s apartment, drinking a beer, and watching the latest football game, “you have to get out there, she’s out there, probably moping around like you do in here all day and night.”

“I do not mope,” Castiel retorted, “I contemplate the possibilities of what ifs and what nots.”

“Right,” Dean smarted, “you mope.”

“He’s right, you  know,” Sam said as the game went to commercial, “you start to feel things, little things, odd things, that your wings will start to do, and that’s the sign, Cas, that’s the sign you’ve been looking for.”

“Odd how,” this piqued Castiel’s interest.

“Have your wings done anything strange that you didn’t intend?”Dean inquired, “Like when I was walking one day out of nowhere, my wings started to vibrate, and I could have sworn it was to the beat of a Led Zeppelin song, but I wasn’t listening to any music at the time.”

“Oh!”Sam interjected, “when I was getting closer to Eileen, my wings would ripple quickly and furiously, and I soon learned that she was deaf, so as she was signing, her wings were simultaneously signing as well, if that makes any sense.”

Cas pursed his lips.  The emotions he had been going through the past couple of weeks, the sadness, the need for consolation, he now felt horrible for if he was going through these poignant emotions, then surely his soulmate was too?  What about the day it poured and he used his wings as an umbrella?  

“Oh my Father!” Cas exclaimed, “she must think I’m foolish,” he explained the case of the wings slash umbrella situation and both Dean and Sam laughed along with him.

“We’ve all done absurd things, Cas,” Dean patted his friend on the shoulder, “let’s find you your soulmate, how’s that sound?”

Castiel stood up, tossed his beer to the receptacle, and headed for the door.  He turned to the others and tilted his head to the side, inquisitive,

“Are we not going?”

­­­­­­­­­­­­­YN was a loner. She had very few friends and the ones that were around had already found their soulmates.  She always felt like a third wheeled freak and kept to herself. She frequented libraries and bookstores, hit the farmer’s market for fresh fruit and vegetables, and would casually walk the park or the neighboring woods frequently.

Today was one of those nights; she took a stroll in the local park, setting down on one of the benches, taking out her journal and pencil and sketching the scenery in front of her.  She was busy focusing on three distant figures in the park, when her wings began to tingle.  Thinking nothing of it, she continued to sketch the three men with glorious wings, and again, her wings began to tingle, but with anxiousness. They were fluttering.  In her photo of the three men, she barely noticed that she was drawing one of their sets of wings with sparks coming off of them, to signify illumination.  As the three men walked towards her, her wings spread out before her, taking them by surprise.  Elegantly shifting up and down they glowed a miraculous white as Castiel’s black wings expanded to their full span and iridescent blues began to light his feathers.

YN dropped her pencil as the sketch in her journal came to stand just mere feet from her, his eyes a cobalt blue, his messy jet black hair tussled, the slow curve of his smile as he laid eyes upon her.  

“You,” she stood to her full height, which was approximately to Castiel’s chest, “you actually exist.”

“As do you,” Cas’deep voice broke his trance, “I was beginning to lose hope.”

“I never did,” YN spoke and reached out her hand to take his into hers, “I’m YN.”

“Castiel,” he pulled her into his chest, resting his head atop of her messy blonde hair, as their wings fluttered and shone brightly in the night.  Dean and Sam looked on proudly at their best friend. Not all who wander are lost after all.  

  Tags: @frankiea1998 @chelsea072498 @beatlesobsessionlove @emptywithout @bohowitch @hexparker @distinguishedqueenofbooks @growningupgeek @kayteonline @d-s-winchester @oneshoeshort @oriona75 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @kas-not-cas @death2thevirgin @deathtonormalcy56 @bovaria @helvonasche @jodyri @hiddenwritingsintheworld @faegal04 @20secspnfam4  @xtina2191 @faegal04 @mogaruke @growningupgeek @jpadjackles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @stephizzle94 @d-s-winchester @oriona75 @buckysmetallicstump @sammyandddeano @chaos-and-the-calm67 @smoothdogsgirl @supernaturalyobessed@iwriteshortstuff@roxy-davenport@chloemac86@20secspnfam4@sleep-silent-angel@dauntlessdiva@waiting4thedoctor @mrswhozeewhatsis@adriellej@mayasmedberg@my-supernatural-dreams@sleepywinchester@sup3rnaturalunkn0wn@faith-in-dean@BohoWitch@stilinski15@breexwrites@deanwinchesterisamazing@bennyyh@sis-tafics@dorky-and-i-know-it@wordstothewisereaders@percussiongirl2017@sam-reidzugzwang@crzcorgi@sunriserose1023@savvythedork@sinceriouslyamellpadalecki@celahcain@winchester-writes@charliebradbury1104@we-know-a-little-about-a-lot@freekryptonitecloud@everythingintensifies@dustycelt@hey-nice-assbutt@wheresthekillswitch@bloodyheartsx @lynnebla @justcallmelosechester@dean-winchestrash @atc74 @fangirlextraordinaire@starswirlblitz@freakintasticfan@cyrilconnelly@chainez-8@beatlesobsessionlove @the-amaranthine @fernandasvaldi @deansbaekaz2y5 @supernaturalbae15 @hexparker

[cloverorgan83-blog]

In New York City, experience the world without a passport - Minneapolis Star Tribune

Ellis Island draws more than 3 million visitors each year. They ferry to the island off the southern tip of Manhattan to learn about the 12 million immigrants who passed through the echoing halls, often seeking a better future in the gleaming metropolis just across the bay. But on a recent trip to New York with my husband, Mike, the closest we got to Ellis Island was the view from the Staten Island Ferry.

I did want to learn about how immigrants have shaped our country’s largest city. Ellis Island, though, was not the best place to do that. After all, the facility served as a processing center for incoming arrivals only from 1892 to 1924. It reflects a sliver of the immigrant experience, which spans from the 1600s through today.

With foreign-born New Yorkers making up nearly 40 percent of the current population, the city’s immigration narrative is woven into the city itself.

Many of New York City’s most iconic symbols can be traced back to immigrants. Neapolitan-born bakers created the classic New York pizza slice. Eastern European Jewish immigrants brought bagels. Thousands of immigrants helped construct the Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park and the first subway tunnels. Even now, the city’s foreign-born residents fuel New York City’s renowned culinary scene — 26,000 restaurants and counting — with global flavors and their labors.

One of the best places to take a deep dive into New York’s immigration history is the Tenement Museum on the Lower East Side. Eastern European Jewish immigrants who settled there at the turn of the 20th century may be the neighborhood’s most famous occupants; since that time, the iconic Katz Deli has served diners just a few blocks away. However, Germans preceded them, arriving in the 1840s, when the neighborhood was called Klein Deutschland, or Little Germany. Chinese immigrants took hold in the 1960s.

The Tenement Museum explores that whole expanse. Over the decades, the museum’s two apartment buildings housed 15,000 immigrants from 20 nations who came to the Lower East Side to find a new life. Today, various tours through the museum’s restored apartments recount the lives of actual residents and how their stories fit into the social, economic and policy issues of the day.

On the Shop Life tour, we learned about John and Caroline Schneider, a German couple who operated a saloon on the apartment building’s lower level in the mid-1800s. As one of America’s first waves of non-English-speaking immigrants, Germans encountered prejudice and discrimination, and John Schneider became active in local politics to effect change. An interactive exhibit at the end of the tour details some of the later business tenants as the neighborhood’s demographics shifted, including a kosher butcher shop, auction house and undergarments store.

After a quick break (the Tenement Museum recommends that you allow yourself 30 minutes between tours, just enough time to grab a slice), we jumped ahead nearly a century to the Under One Roof tour. It tells the story of some of the people who lived at 103 Orchard St. throughout the 20th century: Bella Epstein, whose parents survived the Holocaust; Jose and Andy Velez, whose mother left Puerto Rico in search of economic opportunity; and the Chinese-American Wong siblings, whose stories shed a light on the neighborhood’s once-thriving garment industry. Our tour educator highlighted how many of the immigration policies and attitudes that affected apartment residents are still relevant decades later, leaving us with plenty to consider in the days ahead.

A global tour

Like in the bygone eras we learned about on our Tenement Museum tours, contemporary New York is home to many ethnic enclaves that offer visitors a glimpse of the modern-day immigrant experience — and the chance to sample a world’s worth of cuisines without a passport. While the most famous are Manhattan’s Little Italy and Chinatown, globally influenced neighborhoods span the city’s boroughs, including Little Guyana in Queens, Little Sri Lanka on Staten Island and Brooklyn’s Little Odessa.

Also known as Brighton Beach, Little Odessa is an oceanside neighborhood that takes its moniker from a Ukrainian city on the Black Sea. Eastern European Jewish immigrants settled in the area in the early 20th century, and thousands of Holocaust survivors arrived after World War II. Today, the neighborhood is home to Ukrainian, Russian, Uzbek and other immigrants from the former Soviet Union. Many shop signs are lettered in Cyrillic, and we overheard more Russian than English. After browsing through some of the many specialty grocery stores — I couldn’t resist the Russian chocolate bars — we dined on soup and dumplings on the leafy patio of an Uzbek restaurant.

Another favorite neighborhood we visited was the “other” Little Italy, in the Bronx. Manhattan’s Little Italy feels more like a theme park than an actual neighborhood, with the majority of restaurants and shops geared toward crowds of tourists. The Bronx’s version is trickier to access (between the subway ride and a mile of walking, it was a 90-minute one-way trip from our Brooklyn Airbnb). However, we were rewarded with a relatively quiet neighborhood where firefighters enjoyed their slices at sidewalk tables outside the corner pizza joint, customers lined up to purchase pork chops at the butcher shop and a woman bought canned tomatoes by the pallet from a local grocer.

The centerpiece of Bronx’s Little Italy is the Arthur Avenue Market, opened in 1940 as part of an initiative by Mayor Fiorello La Guardia, himself a child of Italian and Jewish immigrants. Browsing the stalls feels a bit like stepping back in time, with a handful of elderly patrons chatting in Italian and craftsmen hand-rolling cigars. At the nearby Madonia Brothers Bakery (a neighborhood fixture since 1918), we got cannolis filled to order with a dense ricotta cream studded with shaved chocolate. Other modest storefronts sold fresh mozzarella, olives by the pound and piles of fresh pasta.

Many languages in Queens

The best place to get a feel for New York’s modern immigrant character is Queens, where nearly half of the population is foreign-born. We hoped to get a food tour of the Flushing neighborhood’s many international flavors. When our guide was a no-show, we struck off on our own. As we walked down Main Street, we overheard Spanish, Korean, Creole, Mandarin and several languages that we couldn’t identify. Tropical fruits and vegetables spilled out of produce stands onto the crowded streets, a vendor had arranged a row of fresh fish on the sidewalk, and tiny stores were stocked with everything from shoes and cellphones to custom-decorated cakes and perfume.

The nearby New World Mall bills itself as one of the largest indoor Asian malls in the Northeast. Whether that claim is true, dozens of stalls offer a wide range of Korean, Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese fare. We saw skewers of meat, steaming bowls of noodles, pho, piles of shrimp meant to be eaten family-style, fried chicken and squid, plus dumplings stuffed with every variation of meat and vegetables imaginable. I settled on a sort of omelet-pancake hybrid, stuffed with vegetables and carefully folded into a paper wrapper. Mike ordered pork and cabbage dumplings that came with a little bowl of kimchi on the side.

Before the subway ride back to Brooklyn, we stopped by the Flushing branch of the Queens Library. The shelves of the International Language Collection were lined with books in more than 30 languages from Arabic to Yiddish, and there were Chinese, Korean and Spanish reference sections. A pile of local newspapers included many foreign-language publications, and the Chinese edition of Cosmopolitan was available on the magazine rack.

The library was bustling on a Sunday afternoon, much like my Hennepin County Library branch at home. Earbud-wearing students pored over textbooks, elderly men perused the newspapers and toddlers played with toys in the children’s section.

As they go about their daily lives — working, studying, shopping, starting businesses, marrying, having children, becoming citizens — these modern-day residents of Queens are continuing a story that stretches back hundreds of years: the Germans and Eastern European Jewish immigrants who settled on the Lower East Side; the Chinese and Italian immigrants who defined their namesake Manhattan neighborhoods; the Koreans, Haitians, Senegalese, Irish, Ukrainians and more who have made the city their own over the decades.

Perhaps more than any other place in the United States, New York is a city that has been and will always be shaped by its people, many of whom were born somewhere else. By stepping off the well-worn tourist path to Ellis Island — by visiting the Tenement Museum, enjoying a meal in an immigrant-owned restaurant in Little Odessa, taking the No. 7 subway line up to Queens — a visitor can engage, however briefly, with that narrative.

  Stacy Brooks is a Minneapolis-based food and travel writer who blogs at tangledupinfood.com.

Source: http://www.startribune.com/in-new-york-city-experience-the-world-without-a-passport/502110602/