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balapann-blog · 11 days ago

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Day 54 - 29 October - Vanadzor > Gyumri

Checked out and walked down to the bus stop. We took a Marshrutka bus which was very packed with at least 4 people standing and one guy on a little stool. The bus was not that long but quite uncomfortable. The bus kept stopping in what looked like the town center, and one time there were other busses around and I got out with other people but just as I was getting my bag from the back it drove off and I managed to get in as I think Nin said to stop. I was in the bad books with the driver because when we were in the bus station eventually (that was a. Bit further away than we would have liked) he saw that I had accidentally slightly opened the door when he drove off and it wasn’t completely closed (although it wouldn’t have opened and didn’t). He made me hold things that he was taking from the back to the main bus. There was also a mysterious box that had a kind of animal in it that mad a sound a couple of times when we went over bumps but we never saw inside it!

Walked to our B&B. Gyumri is a very pretty stone city that was damaged very badly in an earthquake in 1988 which they are still rebuilding from. It used to be called Alexandrapol and is very close to the Turkish border and Kars. It has a Russian army base which is there to protect the Armenian frontier. It is interesting to see the buildings and imagine what Kars would have looked like before they tore down all the Armenian houses (although the Russian houses in Kars are quite similar).

We checked in went to dogunut place called Ponchik Monchik which was very nice that we had 2 each, I had them stuffed with crema. We wrote and then mailed some postcards which were very cheap! We then went to a church in the main square that was damaged in the earthquake and subsequently rebuilt, which was really nice. We then went to a gallery of two sisters who were artists during the soviet time who had donated lots of their artwork to the city. They were slightly different in their styles but very vibrant and colourful and often quite different to what you would expect from socialist realism and soviet art.

We then went to a cafe called herbs and honey, that does load of tea nice blends, including herbal ones like origano and thyme. They had a great playlist of late 90s women singers of women fronted bands like Sixpence None the Richer, Natalie Imbrulia and Garbage.

After that we went to a fish restaurant near the Russian military base that has a fish farm attached to it. Walked there using google maps which took us down backstreets as it was getting dark which was a bit weird as there were no streetlights or paved roads and it looked as if we were going behind peoples houses. The restaurant was also down a long path on a terrible road which added to the randomness of it. Also I wasn’t sure if we would turn a corner and take a wrong turn onto the Russian base. We then got there and were given Russian only menus which we tried to translate before the waiter brought over an English menu which made me feel slightly less out of place, considering the main clientele seem to be Russian soldiers and their families. We got some trout dolma which were really nice, and then a whole bbq trout which I was very full after. They also had a honey beer which was also good. We got the restaurant to book us a taxi home which we preferred to walking for an hour on main roads breathing in car emissions and wood smoke fumes.

Day 55 - 30 October - Gyumri

We went on a run, but we didn’t want to do a route that involved loads of it roads, so we just around the place till we got to 5k. After that we went for breakfast at that place Herbs and Honey that was okay but not amazing for food, although their teas are nice.

After that we went to the spa in the town that was part of the Raddison but was in an old boathouse in the town. It was really nice and had an amazing domed stone roof and all the things you would want in a spa, including a russian sauna which I hadn’t been in before. Unsurprisingly they call a hammam an oriental baths rather than a Turkish bath.

After this we went for a drink in a cafe in a park which was nice but got a bit cold. We then walked around looking for a place for dinner but didn’t really find anything so went to this place called Gyumri express that brought drinks to the table by toy train! Of course walking back we went past 2 nice restaurants, which we said we would go to lunch at at least one of them!

Day 56 - 31 October - Gyumri > Tbilisi Airport

We did a shortish run to the Mother Armenia statue which is a really interesting soviet era statue on the outskirts of town. When we got back we packed up and left our bags in the room. We originally wanted to go to this ceramics museum but it looked pretty closed so we went for a tea then to this really nice restaurant for lunch that we had walked past the night before. I had meat and vegetables baked in lavash which was very tasty. We then had a cheesecake and a feature of our trip to Gyumri that I want to take with me, teas made from herbs you would consider savoury like origano or thyme.

Went back to the B&B and got our taxi, it was quite a comfortable Mercedes, my bag had to go in the front seat because both our bags were too small for the boot The car smelled quite like petrol due to the LPG retrofit every car seems to have here. We went through Vanadzur, which made us think it might have been easier to go to Gyumri first than there but oh well. I got through the border very easily this time which was good! We had to go through the outskirts of Tbilisi which looked fairly normal but I guess there is loads of stuff simmering under the surface. We then went to our airport hotel which is a very comfortable Ibis and had dinner and chilled out. They had the Liverpool Brighton Carabau Cup game so I watched that.

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tittylover26 · 3 months ago

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hey i read your tags and was just about to reply. I am a literature major and i don't mind reading long reports but also if you don't wanna share for privacy reasons that's completely understandable too <3 i hope the presentation goes well, all the best 💖

LMAO sorry, I was scrolling down and Idk how tf I deleted it, I just noticed now that you mentioned it. And don't worry, more than privacy issues, it's because of the language. The report is in spanish and since I'm majoring in veterinary medicine, it's full of words and terms that may not be too familiar.

Anyways, to summarize, I was given three diseases that cause necrosis and I had to follow up a number of cases of said diseases:

-Cutaneous vasculitis in dogs and cats (specifically speaking of vasculitis that develops in the pinna (the visible portion of the outer ear): pinnal vasculitis).

-Epizootic haematopoietic necrosis virus or EHNV, an infectious disease that affects fish (it appears to affect only rainbow trouts and redfin perchs in the cases that have appeared near my country. In other parts of the world it can affect a large variety of other fish) and causes necrosis in the liver, spleen and haematopoietic tissue of the kidneys.

-Necrotizing fasciitis involving severe systemic toxicity (necrotizing fasciitis type II or streptococcal necrotizing fasciitis), which is a very rare but lethal bacterial infection that affects the skin and soft tissues.

For the first one, I had to treat 5 patients with different stages of necrosis (some had to get part of their ears removed (partial pinnectomy) to prevent the necrotic tissue to affect other areas), and write down the treatment I gave for 2 months and give a report on the outcome. Fortunately, the 5 doggies are now okay, even if part of their ears had to be amputated.

For the second one, I had to go to a fish farm where they had similar cases to EHNV a few years ago, to talk to the person in charge of those cases and collect data of, again, treatment and the results of it

Finally, for the third one, I had to do a thorough investigation on cases about necrotizing fasciitis since, fortunately, imo, is a very uncommon disease. Most of the cases could end up in death but recently, the mortality rate has decreased a lil bit since the diagnosis it's more efficient now. Surgery to remove the necrotic soft tissue is also more advanced (at least, where I am from and currently live, such surgeries where nothing more than a fool's dream to perform them in animals) and we're more accurate with the antibiotics we prescribe.

That's about it, a whole ass book if you ask me, but pretty important since we have to add this information to our (my classmates and mine's) medical knowledge and experience. This is the result of a whole semester's work 💀 and it was kinda cool seeing and visiting a fish farm for the first time.

Hope you have fun reading all this lol, if you have any question, feel free to ask me and thanks for reading until the end 💕

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shellibisshe · 2 years ago

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—fc5 oc aesthetics

tagged by @strafethesesinners @florbelles @harmonyowl @nuclearstorms @aceghosts and @ishwaris thank you all

no tags bc I’m late but if you want to do this, tag me!

HOLLAND VALLEY.

red, gold, and orange leaves against a clear blue sky // rows of apple trees in an orchard // pick your own pumpkin patches // baskets of puppies // a sleeping fawn hidden away from predators // pumpkin spice // the bite of apple cider // a harvest festival // the faint smell of a bonfire on the wind // the slight unease of getting lost in a corn maze // a hint of fall in the air when it’s still warm // golden sunsets // leaves just beginning to turn from green to orange // the rumble of a tractor // the buzz of an airplane flying low overhead // golden wheat swaying in the wind // the smell of gasoline // sprawling river deltas // crystal clear water // an old wooden dresser // family heirlooms // jingling keys // crimson blood // dark ink on parchment // the sting of a bruise // the warmth of a grand fireplace // gunmetal // work boots in the mud // cattails // the harsh cry of crows // the faint musty smell of taxidermy animals // farm animals making a racket // open air farmers markets // catching your clothes on a barbed wire fence // a fresh breeze through an open window // white rocking chairs // old farmhouses // scarecrows // wild westerly winds // the barely contained excitement for the approach of autumn

WHITETAIL MOUNTAINS.

fishing at dawn // the smell of woodsmoke clinging to your clothes and hair // wolfsong // locking eyes with another predator // a night that falls faster than expected // the crisp hint of snow in the air // log cabins // the scent of evergreen trees // stone fireplaces // a well worn camouflage jacket // old field guide books // the smell of a cigarette still lingering on your hands // lager // the roar of whitewater rapids // cool dark caves // the rough wood of an antique gun // the scent of iron // woodland paths crisscrossed by gnarled tree roots // a haze of dust from a recent rockslide // losing your breath as you wade into an icy river // winding mountain roads // an eagle’s cry // the bright red flash of a foxes tail at the corner of your eye // the patter of rain on dead leaves // petrichor // seeing your breath in the cold morning air // the click of a projector // the jangling of a chain link fence // gunpowder // the sizzling of a grill // burnt hair // the grand lobby of a lodge // gravel crunching underfoot // the cry of blue jays // information boards // brochures piled on a table // cold metal bars // the sour smell of a lumber mill // the rough texture of scouting achievement badges // muffled oldies music from another room // sharpening a hunting knife // blood red leaves blooming from bone white birch trees // red bleeding into the edges of your vision

HENBANE RIVER.

cloying floral scents // the thick mist that gathers near the ground at dawn // dewdrops sparkling on spiderwebs // the almost too intense morning sun // unseasonable warmth // birdsong // honeyed wine // walking barefoot in the cool grass // the clanging of a jail cell door // spying hazy figures of animals in the fog // lemon balm and lavender // the low growl of a wildcat that you can’t see (but it sees you) // choking clouds of pollen settling on cars like snow // vineyards // faint humming and singing from an unidentifiable source // juniper berries // feeling uncomfortably hot in overly formal clothes // lace // burning incense // frogs in the reeds // soft brunette tresses // long winding rivers // mesmerizing music // glistening trout // the sweet nectar of honeysuckle flowers // rumbling of truck motors // glass beakers // bundles of dried flowers // wind chimes tinkling // rough concrete bricks // tumbling barrels // the ringing of a vintage phone // sweet words // broken promises // moonflower and datura // the smell of freshly cut grass // the faint sound of children laughing

JOSEPH’S COMPOUND.

babbling brooks // humming // whistling // dogs barking // grand oak trees // the faint sound of hymns // a crate of ripe peaches // melted wax candles // the smell of fresh newspaper clippings // caged birds singing // a warm embrace // wrought iron arches // flames reaching for the sky // gentle voices murmuring // your feet sliding in thick mud // pouring rain // vape smoke // the slight scent of sweat // ink on skin // the smell of wooden church pews // the rustle of hymnals // old book smell // slight hint of ozone from old electronics // bradford pear petals floating on the breeze

DUTCH’S ISLAND.

creaking metal hinges // the crackle of a radio // the scratch of an old record player // the smell of antiseptic // the flickering light of a projector // the feel of pushing pins into cork board // echoing footsteps // shelves stacked with canned food and mason jars // dark shadowy figures on the edge of your vision // gleaming metal badges // a table of bullet shell casings // vertigo from standing on swaying radio towers // the sound of shattering glass // whistling pipes // suffocating heat // the chatter of squirrels // faint scent of mothballs // the sputter of a boat engine // the high electronic whine of an old television turning on // the sound of distant gunfire // tear stained letters // old family photographs // the smell of a mildewy basement

#I was going to use emily for this too but I lost steam #tag game #oc: elenore parker

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harmonyowl · 2 years ago

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OC Aesthetics: Far Cry 5 Edition

I was tagged by @strafethesesinners, @direwombat, and @socially-awkward-skeleton so thank you so much 🥰

If you'd like to do this I will be tagging @deputyash, @natesofrellis, @aceghosts, @ziorre, @shellibisshe, @schoute, @calamitycowboy, @sstewyhosseini, @jacknought, @beautiful-delirium, @teamhawkeye, @cultgxts, and anyone else who wishes to do this is welcome to tag me!

Guidelines: bold what always applies to your OC, italicize what sometimes/somewhat applies, strikethrough what never applies

Holland Valley

Red, gold, and orange leaves against a clear blue sky // rows of apple trees in an orchard // pick your own pumpkin patches // baskets of puppies // a sleeping fawn hidden away from predators // pumpkin spice // the bite of apple cider // a harvest festival // the faint smell of a bonfire on the wind // the slight unease of getting lost in a corn maze // a hint of fall in the air when it’s still warm // golden sunsets // leaves just beginning to turn from green to orange // the rumble of a tractor // the buzz of an airplane flying low overhead // golden wheat swaying in the wind // the smell of gasoline // sprawling river deltas // crystal clear water // an old wooden dresser // family heirlooms // jingling keys // crimson blood // dark ink on parchment // the sting of a bruise // the warmth of a grand fireplace // gunmetal // work boots in the mud // cattails // the harsh cry of crows // the faint musty smell of taxidermy animals // farm animals making a racket // open air farmers markets // catching your clothes on a barbed wire fence // a fresh breeze through an open window // white rocking chairs // old farmhouses // scarecrows // wild westerly winds // the barely contained excitement for the approach of autumn

Whitetail Mountains:

Fishing at dawn // the smell of woodsmoke clinging to your clothes and hair // wolfsong // locking eyes with another predator // a night that falls faster than expected // the crisp hint of snow in the air // log cabins // the scent of evergreen trees // stone fireplaces // a well worn camouflage jacket // old field guide books // the smell of a cigarette still lingering on your hands // lager // the roar of whitewater rapids // cool dark caves // the rough wood of an antique gun // the scent of iron // woodland paths criss crossed by gnarled tree roots // a haze of dust from a recent rockslide // losing your breath as you wade into an icy river // winding mountain roads // an eagle’s cry // the bright red flash of a foxes tail at the corner of your eye // the patter of rain on dead leaves // petrichor // seeing your breath in the cold morning air // the click of a projector // the jangling of a chain link fence // gunpowder // the sizzling of a grill // burnt hair // the grand lobby of a lodge // gravel crunching underfoot // the cry of blue jays // information boards // brochures piled on a table // cold metal bars // the sour smell of a lumber mill // the rough texture of scouting achievement badges // muffled oldies music from another room // sharpening a hunting knife // blood red leaves blooming from bone white birch trees // red bleeding into the edges of your vision

Henbane River

Cloying floral scents // the thick mist that gathers near the ground at dawn // dewdrops sparkling on spiderwebs // the almost too intense morning sun // unseasonable warmth // birdsong // honeyed wine // walking barefoot in the cool grass // the clanging of a jail cell door // spying hazy figures of animals in the fog // lemon balm and lavender // the low growl of a wildcat that you can’t see (but it sees you) // choking clouds of pollen settling on cars like snow // vineyards // faint humming and singing from an unidentifiable source // juniper berries // feeling uncomfortably hot in overly formal clothes // lace // burning incense // frogs in the reeds // soft brunette tresses // long winding rivers // mesmerizing music // glistening trout // the sweet nectar of honeysuckle flowers // rumbling of truck motors // glass beakers // bundles of dried flowers // wind chimes tinkling // rough concrete bricks // tumbling barrels // the ringing of a vintage phone // sweet words // broken promises // moonflower and datura // the smell of freshly cut grass // the faint sound of children laughing

Joseph’s Compound

Babbling brooks // humming // whistling // dogs barking // grand oak trees // the faint sound of hymns // a crate of ripe peaches // melted wax candles // the smell of fresh newspaper clippings // caged birds singing // a warm embrace // wrought iron arches // flames reaching for the sky // gentle voices murmuring // your feet sliding in thick mud // pouring rain // vape smoke // the slight scent of sweat // ink on skin // the smell of wooden church pews // the rustle of hymnals // old book smell // slight hint of ozone from old electronics // Bradford Pear petals floating on the breeze

Dutch’s Island

Creaking metal hinges // the crackle of a radio // the scratch of an old record player // the smell of antiseptic // the flickering light of a projector // the feel of pushing pins into cork board // echoing footsteps // shelves stacked with canned food and mason jars // dark shadowy figures on the edge of your vision // gleaming metal badges // a table of bullet shell casings // vertigo from standing on swaying radio towers // the sound of shattering glass // whistling pipes // suffocating heat // the chatter of squirrels // faint scent of mothballs // the sputter of a boat engine // the high electronic whine of an old television turning on // the sound of distant gunfire

Holland Valley

Whitetail Mountains:

Henbane River

Joseph’s Compound

Dutch’s Island

#for someone who doesn't like the henbane grace has a lot of its vibes lol #😂#blythe paige #grace seed #far cry 5 deputy #far cry 5 oc #far cry 5 #fc5 #my oc #oc aesthetics meme #far cry 5 edition #tag meme

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scotianostra · 3 years ago

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Happy birthday to Derek William Dick, better known as Fish, frontman with the group Marillion.

Fish was born on April 25th 1961 in Dalkeith, first born son of Robert And Isabella Dick. His parents ran a garage and petrol station, where he worked as a pump attendant in his youth. He has a sister, Laura, 3 years his junior. He attended Kings Park Primary School and Dalkeith High School, in his childhood home town, just outside Edinburgh and I remember him scooting about town on his motorbike, always looking rather odd on the wee bike as he is a rather tall guy, as I recall he wore a leather jacket with a fish on it’s back.

He left school; with grade A O-grades in History, Chemistry, English, Maths and Biology and grade B O-grades in German and English Literature, so he is a smart cookie!

In 1976 he started to work as Forester four years later he quit and started a musical career. He joined a band called Blewitt then joined Marillion in 1981. After a year of intense gigging in the UK they got signed to EMI and released their debut album “Script for a Jester’s Tear” in 1983. Their biggest hit singles were “Kayleigh” and “Lavender” in 1985 (from the number one album “Misplaced Childhood”) and “Incommunicado” in 1987. Their other top 40 singles included “Garden Party”, Sugar Mice" and “Warm Wet Circles”. In 1988, after touring their critically acclaimed fourth album “Clutching at Straws”, he left the band to start a solo career.

In 1987 Derek married Tamara, a model from Berlin who he had met during the recording of the album “Misplaced Childhood” and who appears in the music video of “Kayleigh”. Later she also appeared in the video of his solo single, “A Gentlemen’s Excuse Me”. They have a daughter, Tara Rowena Dick, born on January 1st, 1991. In 2001 Fish and Tamara separated.

Derek has also tried his hand at acting his first job was in Zorro, and he isn’t shy of having a bit of fun in his roles, playing “Derek Trout”, a record producer in the 1999 series A young person’s guide to becoming a rockstar.

Music critics have acknowledged Fish for his voice, which has been described as both “distinct” and a “conflation of Roger Daltrey and Peter Gabriel”, while his lyrics have been praised as “poetic prose”. Fish was voted number 37 in the greatest voices in rock by Planet Rock listeners in 2009.

In 2020, Fish released his final studio album Weltschmerz, to positive reviews and commercial success. His management say it should have reached number two in the UK charts, but because UK chart rules require distribution through official channels it was precluded from the official charts.

In an interview last year he said he didn’t find the whole lockdown period too much of a struggle. “I’m lucky because we live in East Lothian, near Haddington to the south of Edinburgh,” he explains. “It’s in the country and I live on a farm so I’m lucky that we’ve got a big garden and my wife and I are both enthusiastic amateur gardeners and that kind of saved us, basically.”

He has his own Facebook page, and yes he runs it himself, it features a programme called Fish on Friday It’s a two-hour show where he plays music and talks about songs and what was going on, he describes it as a great release for himself.

It’s good he is keeping his hand in someway as on the musical career front he says it’s all over;

“I decided in 2015 that I had one more album left in me,” he says, “and the same reason I left Marillion with [1987’s] Clutching at Straws... I left that band with the best album that I thought we made together and it was at a high benchmark.

“I didn’t want to kind of peter out; I’ve never been the kind of person that throws a bit of plastic at loyal punters just to get some cash off them. ‘Oh, it’s Christmas, we’d better put an album out’ – I’ve never worked along that way, and I’ve got other things to do.”

So no more touring or albums for oor man , but he recently was in Malta and delivered keynote speech at a conference focusing on mental wellness at the workplace.

The song I have chosen today is not one of his well known, but I don’t think there are many videos more Scottish than the one accompanying it’s called Internal Exile and is a veritable feast of Scottishness!

I saw a blue umbrella in Princes Street Gardens

Heading out west for the Lothian Road

An Evening News stuffed deep in his pocket

Wrapped up in his problems to keep away the cold

Grierson’s spirit haunts the dockyard

The only men working, documentary crews

Shooting film as the lines get longer

As the seams run out, as the oil runs dry

Hey there, laddie, internal exile

When will you see that we got to let go?

Hey there, lassie, internal exile

When will you realize we got to let go?

Starlings wheeling, Georgian spires

And the fires of Grangemouth burn the skies

A lion sleeps in a tenement close

In a country that’s tired and deaf to his roar

Hey there, laddie, internal exile

When will you see that we got to let go?

Hey there, lassie, internal exile

When will you realize we got to let go?

We got to go now

Oh, would you please let us go now?

They bury the wasteland deep in the wilderness

Poison the soil and reap the harvest

Of blind indifference, greed and apathy

Sowed way back in our history

The fish are few and the harbors are empty

The keels now rot on our oil slicked shores

The sheep are gone, the farms deserted

It sounds out of sight and we’re out of mind

Hey there, laddie, internal exile

When will you see that we got to let go?

Hey there, lassie, internal exile

When will you realize we got to let go?

We’re gonna go now

Like our fathers before us we’ve eyes for America

Dream of a new life on foreign shores

Wherever we go we will always know

That the land we stand on is never our own

Hey there, laddie, internal exile

When will you see that we got to let go?

Hey there, lassie, internal exile

When will you realize we got to let go?

We’re internal exile, we got to, got to let go

We’re internal exile, we simply got to let go

Got to let go

We got to go now

Would you please let us go now?

Internal exile, internal exile

Would you please let us go?

#Scotland #scottish #singersongwriter #actor #producer #happy birhtday

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years ago

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Monday 21 August 1837

7 ¼

11 ½

slept with A- very fine morning F65° now at 8 ¼ and breakfast in ½ hour – then out – about while A- got ready – off with her in the carriage at 9 40 and out all the day – in Stainland – at Marsden – returned thro’ Huddersfield, and back at 9 50 – fine morning but high wind – at Mr. Outrams’ in ¾ hour at 10 25 – A- went to see what ground he wanted off her holme – it turned out that he wanted room for a cart road into his garden and all his talk about the expense of moving the stuff was [hereby] for he had laid it where he wanted it for the purpose of making his road which road he had now hinted at before and it never came out by accident – seeing A- did not at all at once consent to let him take all he wanted he let out that she had no right of road to the holme along his Outram’s road – both A- and I caught at this – both of us supposed O- had given all necessary right of road in return for A-‘s giving him leave to change the goit-course, and so we told O- he explained that the right of road was given only the farm to [Ann hey] – oh! oh! thought I and gave O- to understand that now it seemed A- had a bargain to make, not a mere favour of grant – which she would have had much more pleasure in doing than in making a mere bargain – of which A- said she would consider – O- saw all was not right – we went in for a few minutes to see his shawls but would not take wine or cake – ¾ hour there and off again at 11 10 thinking less highly of O- than we had done before – unhandsome to keep back the a right of road to the holme A- having no idea of it – she promised him the 200 yards of ground not knowing what he wanted it for, but believing that he had had handsome given her all the right of road she could want – she says she had right of road to the farm under the old agreement made by her uncle –so that O- with all his talk had given her nothing – stopped 10 minutes at the turnpike cottage near William Hirsts of moor [miers.] and off from the cottage at 11 50 – then a few minutes at William Hirst’s – A- promised him 2 or 3 new gates – then drove forwards and got out at the top of the Lane turning down to Stone Royde at 12 10 the carriage to wait for us at the public house the coach and horses close-by the son (Joseph Schofield) of the tenant soon joined us in the Lane, and walked with us past the plantation wants a little thinning and dressing and house all long the valley over the grass and latterly rough heather to see A-‘s allotment of waste = about 9 ½ acres very near the head of the valley and opening on to the highroad at the top – wild country – A-‘s allotment partly walled round with stone and partly with sod-embankment – she comes down to ground bought about 18 acres+ for the top reservoir to be formed for the supply of water to the mills below – A- tired – Joseph Schofield’s older brother had joined us – on reaching the highroad sent him to the Inn (about a mile off) for the carriage – the Schofields get turf for burning at the top of the allotment near the highroad – A- thought Joseph S- had best be tenant as he was already partner with his father in the cattle etc. had paid ½ the last ½ years rent, and had offered security for the rent in future – but on Joseph’s wishing A- to mention this to the father, A- thought the father had best settle it himself – walked about ½ the way back to the carriage and got in at 2 5 – Joseph S- asked for something to drink, and A- asked me to give him and his brother 1/. a piece which I did – rough road down the Marsden or rather down to Slaithwaite at 2 ¾ A- being nervous we walked down the greater part of the rough steep descent – got into the great Manchester road on crossing the bridge from S- and alighted at the New Inn (a little distance from Marsden) at 3 5 – desired that George and William Wilkinson should dine and bait the horses, and we ordered trout and cold roast beef to be ready in an hour and set off to walk to the canal tunnel at 3 ¼ - went along the new road now making to save the steepness of the ascent of Stanedge (the equivalent in this place of Blackstone edge on the Halifax and Rochdale road) and crossed the river (Holme river I suppose) and then walked along the canal towing path up to the mouth of the tunnel – seems about 9ft. wide? and 8 or 9 ft. high? 3 or 4 laden vessels lying about all belonging to Dowse – the great man here – a millar –a smoke smell of gas coming out of the tunnel – the woman living by (her husband takes care of the regulation of the water and sees that the boats start at the right hours) said it was the smoke of the fires and candles of the boats gone thro’ – tunnel 3 ¼ miles long – opens into Saddleworth 5 miles from Delf which us 12 miles from Manchester – a light boat with 4 laggers would go thro’ in 1 ½ hour – a heavy boat takes 4 hours –

Boats go from the Marsden end at 6am 2 and 10 pm

ditto - - Saddleworth ditto at 2 and 10 am and 6 pm

the woman thought Mr. Dowse would let us have a boat and 4 laggers for 10/. and the carriage might meet us at the Saddleworth end

Back at the new Inn and dinner at 4 ¼ - A- dined on the trout and potatoes and a little cheese and I on the 2 first + a little hot apple tart – En route again at 5 20 – we had had a 2nd bottle of ginger beer and our own wine – and paid for ourselves 3/2 servants eating and ale ¾ Horses hay and corn 1/6. and gave the woman waiter 1/. – George asked for something for the ostler but I said I had nothing to do with him – paying for the hay corn and postboys’ eating and driving and taking care of his horses, what have I to do with ostlers? – alighted at Mr. John Haigh’s at Honely at 6 50 not at home then in 10 minutes walked up to his brother Mr. Joseph Haighs’ – not at home – a nephew there walked back with us till we met with Mr. Richard Haigh (tenants to A- for her Honley mills and to Lord Dartmoor for a profitable colliery) – Mr. RH. walked with us to shew the wearing of the water course they want doing – he said 2 men at 3/6 per day would do all that was necessary in 5 days (4 or 5 days) – and get the stones and all, for the stone would be got in the water course itself – it was 7 ¾ before we got into the carriage again – stopped a few minutes a little way before Huddersfield to give the horses oatmeal and water (8d.) and as I supposed George and the postoby took each a dam – drove thro’ Huddersfield and Halifax, and at home at 9 50 Mr. Gray lighted us into the house then retired and A- and I had tea and strawberries in the little dining room till 10 40 – fine day, but high wind, and much incommoded by dust

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himvalleytrout · 1 year ago

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How to Start a Trout Farming Business in 20 Steps ?

Rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) and brown trout (Salmo trutta) are two distinct species of trout. While they may share some similarities, they belong to different genera and are generally considered separate species.

In terms of hybridization, rainbow trout and brown trout can interbreed and produce hybrid offspring known as "tiger trout." Tiger trout are typically infertile, meaning they cannot reproduce further. These hybrids are often a result of controlled breeding efforts in fish hatcheries or fisheries management practices.

When it comes to trout fish farming, it's important to consider the specific objectives and goals of your business plan. While rainbow trout and brown trout can hybridize, it's more common to focus on breeding and raising purebred individuals of each species for farming purposes.

A trout fish farming business plan should typically include various components such as:

Market analysis: Research and identify potential markets for your trout products, both locally and regionally. Assess the demand, competition, and pricing dynamics in the target market.

Facility and equipment: Outline the infrastructure and equipment required for your trout farm. This includes tanks or ponds for rearing the fish, water supply systems, aeration and filtration systems, and feeding equipment.

Fish sourcing and breeding: Describe how you plan to acquire high-quality trout fingerlings or eggs from reputable suppliers. Consider factors such as disease prevention, genetic integrity, and growth potential when selecting your breeding stock.

Feeding and nutrition: Detail the feeding program for your trout, including the types of feed, feeding frequency, and feeding methods. Ensure the feed provides optimal nutrition for growth and health.

Disease management: Address strategies for disease prevention, regular health checks, and appropriate veterinary support. Implement biosecurity measures to minimize the risk of diseases affecting your fish population.

Marketing and sales: Develop a marketing strategy to promote your trout products. Consider branding, packaging, distribution channels, and partnerships with local retailers, restaurants, or direct-to-consumer sales.

Financial projections: Prepare a detailed financial plan that includes start-up costs, operating expenses, revenue projections, and a break-even analysis. Consider factors such as feed costs, labor, infrastructure maintenance, and market fluctuations.

Remember, trout fish farming requires careful planning, adequate resources, and a solid understanding of the industry. It's essential to comply with local regulations and environmental considerations to ensure sustainable and responsible farming practices.

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#trout fish farming #trout fish farming business #trout fish farming business plan #trout fish price in India #himvalley trout #trout fish #trout farm near me

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

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Su-Zakana

2x08

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, insinuations to smut, murder, dead bodies, manipulation

Author’s Note: This took so long and it is super long and I am very tired but I really hope you guys enjoy!!!

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary :Will helps investigate the case of a woman's body found inside of a horse; Alana worries about Will's intentions toward Hannibal; Will and Hannibal rush to protect a witness they believe to be in danger.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95

(not my gif) (this was one of those episodes where i’m like WILL IS PRETTY ALL GIFS OF WILL)

“Where are you off to?” you asked, looking up at Will. You were amazed at how compused he had been since arriving back from jail. You weren’t going to lie, it was attractive. But also semi worrying. Ever since he had sent someone to kill Hannibal he had been this way. Maybe it was just because he was more sure of himself now. Either way, you liked this Will more than the one who seemed to be breaking at every touch.

“Fishing.”

“It’s snowing,” you pointed out.

“Ice fishing.”

“Are you going alone? Should I come?”

“No, I’m going with Jack.” You scoffed and Will smiled. It was nice to see some things would never change and your distaste for Jack Crawford was one of those things.

“Alright, have fun then. Be safe!”

“I’m a good fisher Y/N,” Will promised. You shrugged.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell you to be safe.”

You sat at Hannibal’s dinner table. It was odd to be back here. Sitting beside Will, across from Jack, near Hannibal. It reminded you of the times before your boyfriend was wrongly put in jail but then again, mostly everything did these days.

Hannibal placed the fish down on the table and you were happy to see the pieces of it and know Will had caught it.

“Truite saumonee au bleau with vegetables and broth, served with hollandaise sauce on the side. Beautiful fish Will,” Hannibal started to dish up each plate and place them in front of everyone. Will gave a strained smile.

“It was my turn to provide the meat,” he quipped and you chuckled a bit at that. Jack gave you a look but you couldn’t care less what he thought.

‘More flavorful and firm than farmed specimens. I find the trout to be a very Nietzsche-an fish. Trials of hsi wild existence find their way into the flavor of the flesh.” Hannibal sat down. “I hope ‘providing the meat’ doesn’t mean you still harbor doubts about what I serve at my table.”

“No doubts, Dr. Lecter. Only the wounds ew dealt to each other before we got to the truth,” Jack explained.

“Speak for yourself Jack,” you said, cutting harshly into the fish on your plate. Hannibal had to admit how distinguished you and Will looked beside each other once more. Like all was right in the world.

“Which is why we need to move past apologies and forgiveness. Chilton has many victims besides the dead,” Hannibal countered. “We will absorb this experience and it will change us. We are all Nietzsche-ian fish in that regard.”

“Makes us tastier,” Will said and you couldn’t help but smile. Funnier then he had been before. Hannibal and you shared a secret glance.

“None of our actions were personal,” Jack said.

“I tried to have Hannibal killed. Isn’t personal?” Will inquired. You wanted to tell him that he was on fire tonight but bit your tongue.

“No because you did not succeed,” you said, pointing a fork at Hannibal. “Clearly.”

“You thought I was a killer,” Hannibal said.

“I don’t blame Miriam Lass for shooting Frederick Chilton. I wanted to kill him myself.” Jack looked away from the three of you. The situation itself was so odd to him. He didn’t understand where you stood with the boys and how the boys stood with themselves.

“Greatest crime now would be to walk away from what we’ve shared and suffered. In many ways, we need each other. We’re the only ones who will know what this feels like,” Hannibal said simply. Will took a bite of the dish.

“This fish is delicious.”

You snuck a smile

Jack got up and left before you and Will. You glanced out the window behind where Hannibal usually sat. It was snowing steadily. You heard the door shut, Jack had been gone. You turned back, your hair falling on your back. Will and Hannibal walked inside the dining room.

“It’s snowing,” you whispered. They both smiled but the smile was different. Will smiled at you because he had seen this bit of you. The part excited by the snow. He smiled at a piece of you he knew. Hannibal smiled because he felt like you never showed this piece of you.

“Looks like it,” Will said. “We should go soon.” You nodded and moved away from the windows.

“Yes we should. It’s getting late.”

“Actually I was hoping to run something by the two of you” Hannibal said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” Will asked, back stiffening.

“If you are pursuing working with Jack perhaps,” Hannibal said which made you narrow your eyes. You hadn’t talked with Will about that yet. “I was hoping to have Y/N come with us.”

Will looked at Hannibal hard. He tried to figure out this angle. To an untrained eye it was likely because Hannibal wanted to spend time with you. To Will, he wondered if you coming along was to keep both of them in check. Perhaps it was something entirely different.

“I would love to. Especially if Will decides too.” Hannibal nodded.

“Then it’s settled.”

In the car you looked over at Will as he drove back to your home. The snow was coming harder but you could only tell by the headlights.

“Are you really going to go back to working with Jack?”

“I don’t know.” You looked out the window, not being able to look at him.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Will nodded.

“I know you don’t.” He glanced at you. “You’ve always been against it. But I can handle it now. It might even help me.”

“But if it breaks you…” you trailed off.

“It won’t.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. You nodded.

You sat at your desk, fiddling with your pen when the appointment came in. Margot Verger. She was a pretty thing, someone you could probably be friends with. She approached you with a sense of cool confidence.

“Verger?” You nodded.

“Right on time. He’ll come when he’s ready,” you promised. She nodded and sat at one of the chairs. You watched her for just a moment before she caught you. What an interesting lady.

Alana stood across from you. She had come to Hannibal's office to see you while Margot was in.

“Can I help you Miss. Bloom?” She had a stiff back and you could tell whatever she wanted to talk about was not something you wanted to hear about. You had been distant from her since Will tried to kill Hannibal.

“I’ve been talking with Hannibal,” she said simply and the way she said it made you wonder what the talking insured. “I want to know how Will is.” She paused and you didn’t answer her, looking up at her from your desk chair. “I want to know if he’ll hurt Hannibal again.”

You paused a second longer as you studied her.

“Are you and Hannibal...sleeping together?” you asked, laughing a bit. She looked straight at you. You felt semi betrayed. You couldn’t tell by who.

“Is he safe?”

“I don’t know Alana.” Your voice was cold, calculated. “Is he?”

The door opened and Hannibal stepped out. He raised an eyebrow at the two of you. You hadn’t slept together but you thought there was something there, something unspoken. Something with Will, something different. You must have been wrong.

“Hello Alana,” Hannibal said. You stood up.

“I have to go home,” you said simply. Hannibal shook his head.

“I was hoping to speak with you alone. Can you excuse us?” Alana then seemed semi betrayed by the both of you. Served her right. You nodded and grabbed your jacket, showing him that you weren’t going to be staying long. You walked into the office and Hannibal shut the door right in Alana's face.

You stepped in further and walked to your regular seat on his desk. You leaned against it, following him as he walked in.

“Yes?” you asked, a touch of annoyance in your voice. You knew it was unfounded but you ignored it for the moment.

“Do you know why Will tried to kill me?” Hannibal asked. A tough memory for both of you but you ignored the emotions.

“Because he thinks you're the Ripper,” you stated dumbly. Hannibal walked over to you and leaned against the desk beside you. His hand landed on yours but neither of you addressed it.

“It wasn’t to avenge Beverly Katz’s death. It was to prevent yours. He was protecting you. The only way he felt he had left in him.” You thought about this a moment. You looked down at the floor and nodded.

“I’m afraid he’s opened a door in himself that won't’ close again,” you muttered and looked over at Hannibal. “And knowing I had a hand in opening it makes my stomach churn.” Hannibal smiled weakly.

“I don’t believe you were truly the one at fault.”

You shared a long look and then you got up.

“I hope Alana has fun tonight,” you said slowly. “I know I will,” you told him as you opened the door to the office.

Despite the fact that you were only able to see Hannibals face for a moment you knew that your comment had hurt him. You were beginning to understand that Hannibal didn’t want to be Alanas. He wanted to be Wills. He wanted to be yours. He wanted to be part of the two of you and telling him, so blatantly, that he wasn’t was a power move.

You passed Alana and were no longer bitter.

She was being used.

You stood at the stables beside Jack. Will was inside one of the doors, doing his thing. You and Jack were alone outside.

“I’m annoyed that he’s here,” you said. “For the record.” Jack nodded.

“I’m annoyed you’re here. I suppose no one got what they wanted.” You looked over at Jack. How oblivious that man was.

Will stepped out.

“It’s a coffin birth. Decomposition builds up gasses within and putrefied the body and pushes the dead fetus out of its mother’s corpse. It’s really more of a prolapse than a birth,” he explained.

“Not to whoever did this,” Jack said.

“Whoever did this knew the horse. Knew she was dying because her foal was born dead. Knew Sarah Craber. He’s familiar with the stables. He knew when he wouldn’t get caught. He works here or maybe used to. He has medical knowledge of animals, but isn’t a veterinarian. He considers himself a healer.”

“How is he healing?” Jack asked.

“Sarah Craber was reborn. And a mother and her child are finally on the same side of life. This wasn’t a murder.” Will looked over at the two of you and away from the corpse. “This was grief.”

“Peter Bernardone?” Jack called. You stepped inside a small place, filled with metal cages containing small wild animals. Will walked closely beside you. The fact that you were there did leave him with a certain level of comfort. He was surprised how that made him feel.

A wild looking man was in the house, scrambling around. He wouldn't focus on you or Jack or Will. Instead he focused on the animals and the things around him.

“You don't seem curious who we are,” Jack pointed out.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Agent Jack Crawford. FBI. This is Will and Y/N Graham. We’d like to ask you about someone you might have had contact with when you worked at Blackbriar Stables. Sarah Craber. Her body was found recently in very unusual circumstances,” Jack explained.

“I heard.”

“There was a bird in her chest. Did you hear about that?” Will questioned.

“Is the bird alive?” Peter asked. Will looked taken aback and curious.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Who’s taking care of it?” Peter asked.

“How well did you know Sarah Craber?” Jack asked and you thought that was rather rude.

“I didn’t know her.” He was so skittish, his mind in so many different places.

“Would you mind looking at a photograph for me?” Peter shook his head and then turned around, murmuring something to his animals.

“I know who she is, I just didn’t know her.”

“Just to be sure,” Jack said. He handed Peter the photo. Will watched him closely, as did you. Peter glanced wildly around and when he did look at the picture it was very briefly.

“Peter, you had a head injury when you worked at the stables,” you said gently. Jack looked annoyed that you were speaking.

“I was kicked by a horse,” Peter explained.

“It’s an atypical motor response. Peter’s ability to look and touch can only happen as separate events,” you explained a bit.

“Aggravated by stress, isn’t it?” Will asked. He nodded, surprised the two of you had gotten it so on the nose.

“Are you feeling stressed?” Jack asked.

“I’m worried about the bird,” Peter explained.

“A woman is dead, Mr. Bernardoen. And you’re worried about a bird,” Jack said bluntly.

“I’m sad for her, I’m sad for the horse. But I can’t help them. I can help the bird.”

Therapy for Will was still hard for you. You didn’t like it. You didn't’ like not knowing what was going on in the room beside you, if Will was being hurt, if Hannibal was being hurt. You were usually told about it after but sometimes things were left out or forgotten.

Will sat on your desk and you looked at him.

“If I wasn’t doing this as an official session then I would let you come in,” he said gently.

‘I don't’ want to invade your privacy like that,” you explained. “I just wish I knew he wasn’t hurting you.”

“Do you think he’s going to hurt me?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I think you might hurt him.”

“Are you worried about that?” Will asked. You shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

Hannibal opened the door.

After Will talked to Peter some more alone he came up to you. He was stiff, like something was bothering him.

“I’m getting Alana to talk to the social service man assigned to Peter,” Will stated. You nodded.

“I’m sure that’ll help something.” You paused. “Why?”

“Because someone wronged that man as much as I was wronged,” Will explained, voice barely audible. “I want to see him held accountable.” You nodded. “I want you there while Alana does it. Hannibal and Jack will be there too but I want you there.”

You couldn’t tell if he wanted you there to witness it or to be a crutch. Either way you nodded.

“Anything you want.”

You sat in the back seat, Hannibal driving and Will in the passenger seat. The night was dark as you drove to the stables.

“You look like a man who has suffered an irrevocable loss,” Hannibal pointed out.

“I’m trying to prevent one,” Will explained.

“Do you think if you save Peter Bernardone, you can save yourself?” Hannibal asked.

“Save myself from who, Dr. Lecter?” Will asked.

“From who you perceive me to be.”

“I’m afraid I need to be saved from who you perceive me to be. And for the record, I’m not the only one who sees you that way,” Will said.

“Ah yes. Because you share in his beliefs don’t you Y/N?” Hannibal asked, looking in the rearview mirror at your face.

“Yes I do. Well truthfully I dont’ think Will’s ever been wrong about anything so I have to believe him. It’s my code,” you said simply.

“Even with all you know me to be?” Hannibal asked. He was referring to the nights you spent together.

“After all Alana Bloom and I know you to be,” you quipped. Hannibal smiled a bit. He deserved that one.

“Everytime you think about it, it stings, doesn't it? Wondering if I could be right about Will.” He was talking to both of you at this point. “Many troublesome behaviors strike when we are uncertain of ourselves. Peter Bernardone lies in the same darkness that holds you Will.” Will looked straight ahead.

“I’m alone in that darkness,” Will said.

“You’re not alone, Will. I’m standing beside you. Y/N stands closer,” Hannibal said and you nodded.

“He has you there.”

Will walked beside you and Hannibal into the stables where Peter waited. You were the first to see him as you were the first in the stables piece where he was. You were all silent however until Will spoke.

“Peter...is your social worker inside that horse?” Peter nodded. You almost scoffed at the absurdity of the question.

“We are hardwired to see human beings everywhere. Every animal. Every life. We’re all human,” Peter explained but he looked disheveled, bad.

“Every God is personified,” Hannibal stated simply.

“He couldn’t see that. He forfeited his humanity. I forfeited mine. I used to have a horrible fear of hurting anything. He helped me get over that. Feels so abnormal.”

“An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior,” you whispered.

“He deserves to die,” Peter said.

“But he didn’t deserve to kill him,” Will stated. You felt his heart then. You wondered perhaps if Will could feel your emotions how easily you could feel his. “I want you to come with me, Peter.”

Peter stood and allowed Will to lead him away. You gave Will and look, a look of worry. Will gave you a look of comfort back. He was in control. He was okay. You stayed with Hannibal.

“Happy I suggested you tag along?” Hannibal questioned. You both walked over to the sheep that were there and started to pet them a bit.

“Actually, yes. I want to see what Will goes through.”

“Always his savior.” You glanced at Hannibal.

“Is Alana yours?” He chuckled but thought about it for a moment.

“Curiously enough I think you might also be my savior as well. In a way, differently than Will.” You were satisfied with that answer and you had to be because the horse started to move. The stitches ripped open and the social worker you had seen talk to Alana stepped out.

“Mr. Ingram,” Hannibal said, stepping away from the sheep. Ingrahm stood up. “Might want to crawl back in there, if you know what’s good for you.” You scoffed and nodded. Hannibal stepped aside and Will held up his gun to the man. You wanted to swat it away from him. For a moment you recognized the ease he held while he pointed the gun, the almost attractiveness he held.

“Officer, I’m the victim here,” Ingram said. He got on his knees and Will pointed the gun at his head.

“I’m not an officer. I’m a friend of Peter’s.” You walked up to Will but didn’t touch him. You and Hannibal shared a look.

“Peter’s confused.”

You had been raising a hand before Ingram said then. You dropped it just as quickly as you had raised that. You had heard those words spoken to you about Will countless times. All three of you realized that.

“I’m not,” Will said sternly. “Pick up the hammer.”

“Will,” Hannibal said.

“Pick it up.”

“It won't’ feel the same, Will. it won’t feel like killing me,” Hannibal said.

“It doesn’t have to. I know what it will feel like. It’ll feel good,” Will said. You watched his face. A focus came over him that you barely recognized.

“You did the best anyone could do for Peter, but don't do this for him. Not for Mr. Ingram’s victims or their many friends and relatives who would love to see him dead. If you’re going to do this Will…” he paused, “You have to do it for yourself.”

“Please don’t,” Ingram whispered.

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“This is not the reckoning you promised yourself, Will.”

Will was so close to pulling the trigger. You could see his finger shaking. The trigger clicked but it didn’t hit. Hannibal took the gun swiftly from Will’s grasp and put his hand on the back of Will’s head.

“With all my knowledge and intrusion, I could never entirely predict you. I can feed the caterpillar, whisper through the chrysalis, but what hatches follows its own nature and is beyond me,” Hannibal whispered. He let your boyfriend go and you walked over, grabbing Will’s arms as he stumbled into your embrace. Hannibal watched the two of you, Will still shaking from adrenaline.

He watched as you brought a hand up and grabbed Hannibal, hugging him too.

Finally you pulled away from both of them and looked at the social worker.

“What do we do with this guy now?”

2x09

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham x reader #will graham imagine #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal imagines

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desiraypark · 4 years ago

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Stuck in the Mud

Characters: (Late) 60s!AdamSackler x Joyce (Black/Female OC) x Baby

Content: New parent blues. Growing pains. Woodstock ‘69. Y’all know what this picture does to me.

August 15, 1969

“This is such fucking bullshit...” Adam mumbled. He pounded his fist against the steering wheel. “This is SUCH fucking bullshit!”

Her shirt lifted so that air could hit her belly, Joyce held her hand out the passenger window, letting the smothering air float through her fingers. All afternoon, she listened to Adam complain about everything. While everyone abandoned their cars to join the chaotic fun, Adam and Joyce sat in their borrowed car, bickering like the married couple they were.

“Look at those fucking idiots still jumping the barricade. The festival is shit, just walk through. Fuckin’ assholes...”

Joyce released an exasperated sigh.

“Say it,” Adam said. “Fuckin’ say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say what’s on your mind.”

“There’s nothing on my mind, Adam.”

Adam scoffed and chewed his lip. “I hate when you fuckin’ do that.”

“Hate when I do what, Adam?”

“Pretend like you’re not mad about shit and then call me by name after every fucking sentence.”

“You know what I am about to get mad about?” Joyce asked.

“What?”

“You fuckin’ cursing at me like I fuckin’ did something to you!”

“I’m not fuckin’ cursing at you!” Adam argued.

“Yes, you fuckin’ are!”

“I’m fuckin’ NOT!!!”

Joyce rolled her eyes and reached behind Adam’s seat. She lifted the lid of the Thermaster cooler and pulled out a sandwich. “You want your sandwich?”

“No.”

Joyce huffed and pulled out a sandwich, a bottle opener, and a bottle of 7Up. First, she opened the soda and took a sip. Then, she pulled the foil away from a lake trout sandwich she’d made the night before.

“Is that fucking fish?” Adam asked, face contorted.

“Yes, Adam. Yes, it’s fucking fish. You watched my fry the fucking fish last night.”

“I can’t take Ray’s car back smelling like fish!”

Joyce chewed on the inside of her mouth. Then, she grabbed the door handle and climbed out of the car with her food and drink in hand. Suddenly, she appeared in front of the car, and Adam watched her walk down the road.

“Joyce? Where the fuck are you going?” he called out of the window. Without turning around, Joyce stuck her middle finger up and continued down the road.

ONE MONTH EARLIER

Joyce unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment, contemplative. Adam followed her inside, holding a box of pizza. He kicked the door closed, and Joyce jumped as if a lightbulb had gone off in her head. She rushed to Boots’ bedroom and looked inside the crib. Yes, she did pack Teddy.

“You didn’t fuckin’ forget anything, Joyce!” Adam shouted from the kitchen.

Joyce sighed. “I know.”

Just as she’d turned around, Adam was gliding into the bedroom--a singular step of his equated to two of hers. She wrapped his arms around Joyce’s waist and pulled her close.

“We’re going to go into this kitchen, we’re going to eat this fucking pizza, then we’re going to fuck all night.”

Joyce laughed. “I know the itinerary, Adam.”

“The baby’s fine,” he said.

Joyce looked down, but Adam lifted her face by the chin. “Say it.”

“The baby’s fine,” Joyce repeated.

“Your sister has two fucking kids, she knows what she’s doing.”

“I know, I know,” Joyce said. She pulled away from Adam’s grip and paced the bedroom. “But what if something happens? What if she gets sick? What if she eats something she’s allergic to and we don’t know she’s allergic to it?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Smalls,” Adam said. He took Joyce’s hand. “Come the fuck on before the food gets cold.”

Adam pulled Joyce through the living room and suddenly, the phone rang.

“Don’t answer it!” he said, tugging on her hand. Joyce pressed her nails into Adam’s wrist.

“Ah! Fuck!”

As she turned on her heels to grab the phone, he smacked her ass.

“Hello?” Joyce answered. “Hey, Ma.”

Adam rolled his eyes and faked pain--hunching his shoulders and touching his chest.

“I’m doing alright, and you?” Joyce asked, biting down a smile. Adam fell to the floor slowly and dramatically. “Oh, that’s good to hear...”

Joyce covered her mouth as Adam stretched out on the floor, panting and panting until he let his head fall to the side. He closed his eyes and let his tongue hang out like roadkill.

“We’re doing alright. Laurie is actually over at Jessica’s for the evening...just to give us a little time off...”

Adam opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Suddenly, he lifted his hands and pressed his fingers against an invisible waist.

“...well, Ma, I surely don’t want to drive from New York to Philly just to bring my newborn baby for a weekend, and I sure wouldn’t have you and Dad drive all the way up here for it...” Joyce said. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight before her.

“Uhhh...” Adam moaned. “Your pussy is still so tight...”

Joyce kicked the coffee table to get Adam’s attention, but he only chuckled. “Well, she’s still a newborn to me...”

Adam began to thrust in the air. “Fuckkkk...am I fucking you good baby?” He increased the pitch of his voice, imitating Joyce. “Yes, baby, yes!”

He lowered his pitch to imitate himself. “How good?”

“I can feel your dick in my belly!” he moaned, imitating Joyce again.

Joyce covered the phone’s mouthpiece and turned her back to Adam. “I don’t know, something weird on TV...well, how about this, how about you two come up here and stay for a weekend, some day?”

Suddenly, Joyce felt the sofa cushion dip behind her. Adam placed soft kisses against her shoulder--bare under the spaghetti straps of her striped tank-top.

“Well, look, Ma--me and Adam are about to eat dinner, I’ll call you back in about an hour?”

“You’ll call her back tomorrow,” Adam whispered. He cleared his throat and leaned over Joyce’s shoulder. “Hi, Mrs. Martin!”

“She said, “Hey, baby”,” Joyce said. She wiggled her shoulder to relieve herself of the pressure of Adam’s chin. “Alright, Ma. Love you. Tell Daddy I said “hey.””

Joyce hung up the phone, turned around, and poked Adam in the chest. “You’re disgusting!”

“Grrrr,” Adam growled. He leaned in to take nibbles at her neck, making her chuckle and squeal. Then, she waved him away.

Just as the two of them rose from the sofa, the phone rang again.

“Don’t answer it!” Adam shouted.

“It could be Jessica!” Joyce exclaimed. She picked up the phone and Adam scoffed and walked toward the kitchen. “Hello? Hi, Ms. Fran!”

Adam flew out of the kitchen and shook his head from left to right. “Yes, he’s here.”

Adam’s fingers curled, forming the shape of an invisible neck between them. Joyce smiled and held out the phone to her husband.

DAYS LATER

“You know that arts festival they’ve been talking about?” Adam asked, walking into the kitchen with Boots in his arm. True to her nickname, Laurie “Boots” Sackler began wiggling her toes and kicking her foot, anxious to prove to her parents that she didn’t need them to carry her around anymore. But Adam paid her no mind--he only pulled her closer.

“Good evening,” Joyce said, flashing Adam a smile as she stirred sauce in a pot.

Adam leaned in to kiss her on the lips. “Good evening. How was your day?”

“My day was fine. And yours?”

Adam sat at the kitchen table, moving Boots onto the opposite side of him as she tugged at his shirt. “It was great. You know that music festival they’ve been talking about? Music and art?”

“Nope,” Joyce responded. She turned off the stove burner.

“Well, there’s this arts and music festival coming to White Lake next month...”

“I have no clue where White Lake is...” Joyce responded. She walked to the cupboard and pulled out two ceramic bowls.

“It’s further north. Well, anyway. I got us tickets.”

“Oh, okay. Sounds fun. When is it, what time?” Joyce asked unenthusiastically. “What kind of art, what kind of music?”

“Janis Joplin’s gonna be there. Santana. Creedence Clearwater. Sly and the Family Stone...”

Joyce whirled around with big, bright eyes. “Sly and the Family Stone? Why didn’t you just say that in the beginning?!”

Adam grinned. “Well, it’s a three-day festival...”

“When will Sly and ‘em be there?” Joyce asked, dumping penne noodles into one of the bowls. Then the second.

“The second day I think. But I wanted us to go for all three days...” Adam added carefully.

Joyce shook her head “no” and placed the pot of strained noodles back on the stove. “I’m not leaving my baby for three days.”

“We can take her with us,” Adam suggested, placing a kiss on Boots’ forehead.

Joyce sighed and looked at Adam. “How far away is White Lake?”

“Joyce...”

“Yes?” she responded.

Adam stood up and walked over to Joyce, towering over her and staring into her eyes. “Let me take care of everything. I want us to start having fuckin’ fun again.”

Joyce’s neck snapped backward. “We always have fun! What do you mean?”

“We don’t really go out anymore, babe,” Adam said. He paced the kitchen floor with the baby as Joyce finished making their bowls. “We’re still fucking young and we don’t do young shit anymore.

Joyce carried the bowls of pasta to the table. “Do I make you feel old, Adam?”

Adam’s shoulders fell. “No, honey...it’s just...we got married and had a baby, and now we’re just...stuck. Doing the same shit over and over again. And this wasn’t us before. We were always doing some new, crazy shit...”

Boots grabbed her father’s hair--dark and full like hers. “Now, the craziest shit we do is eat pizza and watch fuckin’ Bonanza with our fuckin’ pants off.” Adam gently pulled Boots’ hand away.

“I don’t know, Adam. Let me think about it. Okay?”

____________________

August 15, 1969

“We’re not moving anymore,” a bearded man had shouted down the road with his arms up. He and three other people had climbed out of their car, and he walked the road to warn the people behind him. He paced back toward his own car. “We’re done. We’re stuck.”

People had parked on the side of the road and walked toward the festival. Not Adam. He parked the car and pouted like a child. Hotels and motels were booked, so Boots stayed home. There were no vacancies anywhere near the farm in White Lake. Or Bethel. “Wherever the fuck we are,” Adam had said.

It was hot and sticky--and there had long been calls for rain. The land was already muddy from previous rains. What was supposed to be a two-hour drive felt like an eternity--it seemed that everyone in New York City was headed to the same place at the very same time. This wasn’t what Adam had in mind. This was supposed to be fun--not a fucking headache.

“So, what are we gonna do? Just sit here?” Joyce asked.

“We were supposed to have a motel room. We’re supposed to be out there with everybody else. We might as well be back in Brooklyn watching the fuckin’ show,” Adam complained.

Joyce grabbed Adam’s face and kissed him on the lips. “We’re here now. Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we’re fucking here.”

“Let’s see what all the fuss is about,” Joyce said.

Adam nodded. “Okay. But we’ve got tickets. We’re not gonna be assholes and jump the fuckin’ fences.”

“Okay, baby.” Adam and Joyce walked around for about thirty minutes before irritation took over again. The place was muddy and there was barely room to move. No shelter from the setting sun. They’d barely checked out the art vendors before they made their way back to the car.

____________________

“Joyce!” Adam called from the window. He hopped out of the car and called down the road again. “Where the fuck are you going?!”

Joyce turned around and walked backwards. “Stop making a scene, Adam!”

Suddenly, the ground under Joyce disappeared. She fell backward--ass first into a pile of mud.

“Oh, shit,” Adam mumbled. Festival attendees scattered about at their cars covered their chuckles, while others were prepared to step away and help Joyce up. But Adam made it in time.

“Fucking, shit, Smalls,” he said. Joyce pouted at her lost sandwich and soda and took Adam’s hand. She was halfway up when Adam suddenly broke out into laughter. Unable to control himself, he accidentally let Joyce’s hand go, letting her fall back into the mud.

“Adam!” she cried.

“Shit, I’m sorry!”

Adam held out his hand again, but as Joyce grabbed it, she tugged hard to pull him down on the ground with her. Of course, “Smalls” wasn’t big or strong enough to pull him down, but he’d lost his footing and fell forward beside her. This time, making all the onlookers burst into joyous laughter.

“That’s right, get him!” a woman shouted in the distance.

“Good old payback!” another said with a laugh.

Adam and Joyce sat up--two 30-something year-olds--giggling in a pile of mud.

Hours Later

Adam and Joyce walked the festival grounds with muddy backsides for a couple of hours. They met new people, bought a few pieces of art and jewelry, then made their way back to their car before the expected rain came down. They placed a blanket along the front seat and sat inside with the windows partially rolled down. Rain poured from the clouds and Ravi Shankar’s sitar filled the country night air.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said after a seemingly never-ending silence. “I just wanted to do something for you. For us.”

“And I’m enjoying myself, Adam,” Joyce responded. “It’s not ideal. But we said we wanted to do something fun and crazy right?”

“Forty dollars to come to this shit and we can’t even enjoy it. We can’t even see who’s on stage. Smells like fuckin’ piss and balls all over the place. We’ve got mud all over our asses.”

“You’ve put worse things on my ass,” Joyce interrupted. She bit her lip, then released a chuckle. Adam laughed, too.

“Fuck. Maybe we’re not as young as I thought,” he resigned.

Joyce sighed and rested her head on Adam’s chest. “Or maybe we’re just comfortable around each other. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with watching Bonanza with no pants on.”

Adam laughed. “Maybe we can spice shit up and fuck on each other every time Hoss gets into a fuckin’ fight.”

“We can watch the show, but if Hoss gets into a bar fight, you have to take your dick out.”

“YES!” Adam agreed excitedly. “And you have to suck it.”

Joyce burst into laughter again. “Blowjobs for Hoss fights, pussy-eating for Little Joe fights.”

“Fuckin’ deal,” Adam agreed. They laughed together once more, then fell into a comforting silence.

“I’ve got an idea...” Joyce said, breaking the serenity.

“What?”

She turned Adam’s face toward hers by his chin and kissed him on the lips. Then, she let the tip of her finger trail down his chest. “Let’s do somethin’ crazy right now...”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah...”

“We can’t take Ray’s car back smelling like--”

“You’d better not say smelling like fish!”

Adam laughed. “No, you smell more like sweaty...”

“Don’t you fuckin’ finish that sentence,” Joyce said.

He laughed again--like a mischievous and troublesome kid. Joyce bit her lip and ran her hand along Adam’s thigh. He let his hand slide under her shirt and over her belly. Then, he pulled his hand away, and used both hands to unbutton her top.

#i had no goal no outline no mission lol

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manychocolatefactories · 4 years ago

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CatCF Milk Chocolate: Part 1, the kids

About this version: Milk Chocolate was inspired originally by a mix of the book, the vibes of the 1971 movie and the Tim Burton movie aesthetic. A bit more goofier and whimsical than the other versions. In term of era, I thought of it as a mix of 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.

In this version seven Golden Tickets are spread throughout the world, and each time one is found the same female reporter (her character is a reference to the musical) goes to interview the children. Another recurring joke is that while the hunt is going on for the Tickets, there are all sorts of ridiculous debates on television such as: do the Golden Tickets really exist, or is this just a hoax ? Do the Golden Tickets give cancer? Can animals go on a tour like humans? What happens if a Golden Ticket winner dies before the tour? Are the Golden Tickets linked to the rise of youht delinquence? Are the Golden Tickets a proof of Wonka's alleagiance to the obscure sect of the Golden Bird?

First Winner: Augustus Gloop

(Based on Augustus Gloop)

This Augustus was actually based on an idea Stained-by-the-sea allowed me to "borrow" a bit. Stained noted that Augustus always made him thought of this section from the movie "North", about Buck and the Texan parents. If you don't know what I am talking about, I'll leave links down there. And this is such a perfect matc I had to dig a bit down there.

This Augustus is basically a mix of all the archetypes associated with Texas and Nevada. But more precisely, he is basically "Buck" from North - a boy whose family (and his own mindset) embody the motto "bigger is better".

The Gloop family always thought that they should be "the biggest and the bests" and that "bigger is better". Ironically, the Gloop parents themselves are regular-sized people, but they clearly enforced this mentality on their son. Augustus is a big boy. Literally. He is tall, he is thick, he is fat, he is very, very big. He is probably one of the tallest, and definitively the largest boy on the tour (in fact, he once or twice gets stuck in the doors of Wonka factory). He eats ten meals per day, and we are not talking of regular sized meals. We are talking piles of ribs, kilos of potatoes, entire chickens... His parents also prepared for him a "big" and "best" future - paying the local sportive teams to claim he is a sports champion despite Augustus never setting a foot on a sports field, arranging his marriage with the local beauty queen of the state he lives in, already preparing the three different houses he will live with his fifteen kids... As a result, Augustus isn't just big and fat physically, he also has a massive and bloated ego. He thinks that he is the best at everything, and that he should have absolutely everything he wants.

The Gloops themselves are actually the masters of the state they live in, so to speak. They are the wealthiest and most influential industrials of the area: they built highways, casinos, hotels, private villas, they are cow-farmers, owing a lot of slaughterhouses, and also dig for oil and gold. They want their business to be the "biggest there ever was" and all they do is exaggerately big: their villas are enormous, their hotels are everywhere, their farms hosts several thousands cows, their mines are among the deepest in the world...

Trouble is that, due to their expansion and consumption of everything, they are a threat to the landscape and the environment - destroying forests to build their roads and buildings, drying out the lands to feed their farms... in fact, part of the reason why their state looks like the most desertic parts of Texas and Nevada is due to their actions.

Think... Buck from North. Think Art Land from Mar Attack. Think an evil (and obese) version of Clay Bailey from "Xiaolin Showdown". In fact, if I remember well in one episode Clay turns into a sumo for one of the Showdowns... this would probably be Augustus' appearance in this version: sumo Clay Bailey. (Edit: Yes, I checked out, it is episode 23 of the series).

Second Winner: Clarence Crump

(Based on: Clarence Crump)

Clarence didn't had any kind of personnality in the original drafts outside of a desire to prove he was right. As a result, I decided to have a lot of fun and create my own character.

The idea of vanity has already been touched several times with the other brats, but I wanted to give it its own character and kid. I also wanted to create a polar opposite of Augustus, denouncing the fact that being skinny can be just as bad as being fat when in excess. As a result, Clarence Crump is here a boy obsessed about being thin, and proud of being too skinny for his own good.

Mr. Crump is a pseudo-health guru that keeps writing phony and very dangerous diet books, the kind that will advice you to stop eating altogether to lose weight. As for Mrs. Crump, she is a beauty pageant champion (local and regional, and while she acts as if she was some national beauty champion, she always failed at nationals). From their union was born a child who inherited their vanity, pride and obsession with "health"

Black haired, very pale, very thin, very slender, to the point his bones show, Clarence delights in being skinny, and works as a teenager model promoting the "thin-fashion". He is also the embodiment of fat-shaming, never missing an occasion to insult fat people (in fact he often calls Augustus a big fat cow). He uses however the excuse of health for that (a trick his parents taught him) - promoting extreme thinness by talking about health and fat-shaming people in the name of health allows one to be much more horrible than normally accepted.

A good proof of how Clarence actually is just very vain and obsessed with being thin, and not at all defending health - Clarence condemns sports for being unhealthy, because according to him "muscles are unhealthy because they don't make you look beautiful, they make you look ugly".

He always wears short and black sleeveless tank-tops, the point being that he needs to show as much as his body to the world as possible, to be a "living example". He even wears his black short and tank-top during the tour (despite it being winte - the only thing he wears on top of his clothes to not get cold is a skunk fur coat).

Third Winner: Miranda Grope

(Based on: Miranda Grope)

This character was based on Dahl's own character of "Miranda Grope" from early drafts of the story, the horrible and atrocious girl allowed to do "whatever she wants".

In my version, the Grope parents are hippie-like people, the father having a very long beard and being covered in fleas, while the mother is covered in flowers and oss (plants that grew over her), and both always wearing rose-tinted glasses. They are the kind of parents that refuse authority and orders, seeing these (and social norms as a whole) as a "dictatorship". They prefer to trust their daughter to find her own way in the world, believing that experience is the best teacher in life. The result? They lazily raised her by telling her they would never forbid her anything and that she could do anything she wanted.

Miranda is a devilish little girl who does only what she wants, and becomes extremely violent when prevented from doing something. Or when people say something she doesn't want to hear. Or just when people she dislikes are near her. She shouts, the screams, she insult, she kicks, she hit, she throw enormous and terrifying tantrums. She has a very wide range of insults, and a truly evil mind : most of the things she wants to do are borderline crimes. It seems for her only chaos and destruction is "fun", a true little punk.

Miranda has a disastrous haircut because she cuts her hair herself, and she is always wearing the same clothes that she rarely washes): a white shirt, a blue sweater with long sleeves, and a plaid tiles skirt. An outfit that looks strikingly like a school uniform - but it is pure irony, because Miranda hates more than anything in the world school. She doesn't go to school, and the only time she went near one was to try to burn it down. (Her appearance is in fact based on Lauren Child's illustrations for Miranda, if you are wondering).

Fourth Winner: Veruca Salt

(Based on: Veruca Salt)

For this Veruca, I wanted to do something slightly different... here, Veruca doesn't want everything just because she is a spoiled rich brat. She is still one, but she is also the product of post-WW2 consumerism.

This Veruca was born surrounded by advertisements, logos, slogans and product placements. On television, in the streets, in shops, in journals, at the radio... She grew up with them and was influenced, brainwashed by them. As a result, she is obsessed with obtaining everything that was advertised, and she herelf looks like a walking billboard since she is covered in big, flashy logo and keeps reciting different brands' slogans and mottos. As soon as she sees something she saw publicity of before, she needs to obtain it at once. She is a true zombie, only hearing the call of the shopping mall and of the television advertisements.

One idea I had was that the Salt parents actually worked for (or where at the head of) a wealthy advertisement company, known to produce, design and create all kinds of famous publicities and slogans - and that they used their daughter as a guinea pig for their tests, and delighted in Veruca being so addicted to consumerism. In fact, they may have named her Veruca because at the moment of her birth they were working on advertisements for an anti-wart product, so that's all they had in mind.

Fifth winner: Herpes Trout

(Based on: Mike Teavee)

I went with this version of Mikee Teavee with the focus on "violence" already present in the original work, but also heavily used in the opera (and touched a bit in the 2005 movie).

This Herpes Trout is the embodiment of the fear of kids becoming violent upon watching television and playing video games (his only two passions in life). He has a true fascination with guns and firearms - US soldiers shooting aliens, gangs shooting each other, cowboys shooting at bandits, it's all he ever plays and watches. Herpes worships violence, and is absolutely obsessed with war (here I am thinking of all the wars present from the 60s to the 80s, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Glasgow Ice Cream Wars...). War propaganda and the fight being glorifyed heavily influenced him - as a result his biggest dream is to go at war in some foreign country to kill everyone there and come home a hero.

Herpes comes from a family of rednecks and hillbillies from the deep country. They are not poor however, they are wealthy enough to have television and several video games, but they are uneducated people full of stereotypes, discrimination and hate. They named their son Herpes because they ignored what it meant but just thought of it as an "intelligent" name. Herpes has everal brothers and sisters, and all have a disease name.

Herpes himself is a big and strong kid, who followed body-buildings process a la Charles Atlas and military training, becoming impressively muscular. However, he retained a soft, childish and chubby "baby face", which kind of ruins the effect of this massive, muscular, almost adult body. Always dressed in a military outfit, he carries everywhere with him guns and firearms, the question being: are they real? Or are they not?

Sixth Winner: Violet Glockenberry

(Based on Violet Beauregarde)

I wanted with this version to take back the idea of a competitive and "sportive" girl obsessed with contesting and winning - introduced in the Tim Burton movie.

This Violet is a tall, muscular and strong girl. She won numerous sportive competitions, but this doesn't make her just arrogant and prideful like in the Tim Burton version. In my version she is also very aggressive and violent (a bit like in the original novel). She is a nasty and rude bully easily prone to anger (in fact, if she keeps chewing gum it is mostly to calm her down sot hat she doesn't punch everyone around). Her parents originally pushed her towards competitions to manage her anger issues, but sports only gave her more strength and destructive power. In fact, they became terrified of her, while she considers them losers here to serve her - she basically thinks of herself as self-made, literaly.

Seventh Winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on: Charlie Bucket)

For this Charlie, I wanted to go with a Charlie similar to the original illustrations of the character: blond hair, blue eyes, a white boy...

Basically, he is the original Charlie. Very sweet, very innocent, a gentle kid, the best of the group.

However I changed slightly his background. Charlie in this version is not the grandson of four grandparents, but rather the big brother of four younger siblings - and his family here struggles with trying to feed five children (and a total of seven mouths) despite having very humble and low-paid jobs. I think Charlie has taken the role of a parentive figure for the siblings, but at the same time him spending so much time with young children helped him keep in touch with his "childish" side.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #milk chocolate #retelling #charlie bucket #violet beauregarde #mike teavee #augustus gloop #veruca salt #miranda grope #clarence crump

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crackinglamb · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 7/29 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Female Hawke/Varric Tethras, Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi, Hawke's Mabari (Dragon Age), Abelas (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Girl in Thedas, Established Relationship, Fluff-uary 2021, Tumblr Prompt, Fluff, Romance, Rating will change, Eventual Smut Series: Part 4 of Til It Squeaks: A Modern Girl's Take on Thedas Summary:

A multi-ship romp of fluffy prompts! Featuring Carly and Solas, Dorian and Iron Bull, Varric and Hawke and more. These all exist within the worldstate of Twist, an MGIT AU. Pairings will head each prompt in the author's notes.

NSFW will be marked with **.

As always, beta'd by Iron_Angel.

Chapter 7 - Long Walks

“Where are we going, vhenan?”

“We're fixing a memory.”

They emerged from the overhang of the Glenmorgan Mine and started to climb into the hills near Three Trout Farm. She drew him off the main thoroughfare and onto a side path wending its way up a steeper slope. It looked so much better now to her eyes without the red lyrium outgrowths marring the landscape and she stopped to take in the view for a moment.

Solas chuckled and she thought he might have figured out where they were headed. “I thought you said you would kill me on principle if I ever brought you here.”

“Good thing you didn't bring me. I brought you.”

“Ah, a fine loophole.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and shook his head at her. “I am a bad influence upon you, I think.”

“What do you mean? You've been a wonderful hahren for teaching me malicious compliance.” She grinned at him impishly and got what she wanted. Her favorite snorting laugh.

#Lamb writes #dragon age inquisition #solavellan #fluff-uary 2021

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mirutravelplan · 4 years ago

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Hiking Spots Chandragiri

Looking for hiking spots near Chandragiri Kathmandu?

You can explore many hiking spots near Kathamndu. Thankot is the gateway of Kathmandu from the West in which you may discover many adventurous places. Here are 6 listings of hiking spots in Chandragiri, Thankot Kathmandu. You can explore the following hiking spots from Thankot like Indra Daha, Bhaleshwore Temple, Markhu, Champadevi, Matatirtha-chakhel, and Hattiban-Champa Devi-Bhaleshwar-toplang-Naubise

1. Indra Daha

Indra Daha is one of the engaging get-away spots for a day climb. It lies the north of Thankot. This spot is recognized historically and culturally. It is found 10 km distant from the middle of Kathmandu. You will start this hike from Thankot which takes around 2 hours. You can catch a public or private vehicle to reach out to Thankot.

During the walk at Indra Daha, you’ll discover the gentle wilderness and Bay-Berry trees. You may also find Rhododendron trees and Chinquapin nuts (Katus). The super sights views are the Manaslu range, Ganesh Himal, and the Langtang range. Moreover, you will find the sacred pond, Kazi Kalu Pandey’s Samadhi (Burial ground), and Manakamana Temple. Importantly, devotees come for worship and celebrate so this gets to be a sacred zone for people. Recently, the seeing tower has been built to view the 360-degree point.

In case you turn out to be hungry you will effortlessly find cafes and eating places out there. Above all, it makes you feel peaceful. Therefore, explore your one day hike and revels in the nearby area. Meanwhile, you can closely see the excellent view of Switzerland park, Chandragiri hills, and gumba.

Have a pleasing Trip!

2. Bhaleshwore Temple:

I found that Bhaleshwore Temple is one of the best hiking spots at the Chandragiri range I had experienced. That is simply 7km far away from Thankot. I went with my own circle of relatives with my backpack with few dry foods, sweets, and a bottle of water. During the hiking, I observed a dense forest full of nature with clean air. As we moved on we noticed a stunning scenario of Kathmandu valley. We also noticed lovely birds. If you are lucky, you would possibly come upon monkeys, wild animals like leopards, and wild buffaloes.

Firstly, I found Bhaleshwore Temple is more linked with the Hindu religion. You can find a temple that belongs to Lord Shiva. Moreover, this spot is about the myth of Devi Sati and Lord Shiva. Likewise, on the day of Holi Purnima people visit from different locations at Bhalewshwore temple to worship and celebrate Holi with their buddies and families. Another part of the tale of this hill is about King Prithivi Narayan Dha Dev.

Well for me, It takes around three hours from Thankot by walk. If you don’t want to walk, you may get the revel in of cable car to reach the Bhaleshwore Temple. It takes nine minutes from the Thankot cable car station.

We found the awesome view of the Dhaulagiri Himal range to the Everest range. Also, there is so many attraction at Bhaleshwore temple like a Statue of Prithvi Narayan Sha Dev, view tower, children park, pony ride. If you need to do night time live, you could live in a boutique resort. There you could additionally find cafes, fast food, and restaurant.

3. Thankot – Chitlang (Markhu)

Thankot-Chitalnga-Markhu is a standout among other Chandragiri hiking spot places from Kathmandu. It is additionally well known for the travel industry objective. To arrive at Chitlang, you can take a single-direction cable-car ticket from Thankot to Bhaleshwore Temple. After that, you can stroll down from the Bhaleshwore Temple and reach Chitlang. It takes around 1 hour to 1.5 hours. During the walk, you can explore many things like trout fish ranch, Bheda farm, Goat Cheese factory. Likewise, You can explore the village with the nearby. Another fascination is the chilling village itself since you can see the beautiful home, living blended social individuals, and theirs way of life. You can easily find a home stay out there. With a few hours’ walk, you can without much of a stretch reach in March. This spot is called Indrasarovar which is a Man-made hydro-power Dam. You can see lovely nature, lake, neighborhood food sources and the way of life of town individuals. One of the significant attractions at Markhu is touring and boating.

You can contact!

You can visit my facebook page to know other lovely places in and outside Nepal!

#chandragiri #Chandragiri Hike #hiking

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