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thisonesatellite · 5 years ago

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if you live by the word, you die by the pen -- CH10

SUMMARY: It’s just another day with bad coffee, the day that Sheriff Swan enters Detective Jones’ precinct.

The fact that his life is about to come apart at the seams is purely incidental.

With apologies to Dashiell Hammett and James Ellroy, i’m playing in their sandbox and i’m taking the bucket and the shovel. You guys can keep the rake.

|CH1| CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 |

AO3 (if you want decent formatting, because tumblr does not).

A/N: So. Here it is. The calm before the storm. And a little bit of mystery (yeah, well, you knew that), and a dash of humor, and possibly a smidgen of you know what.

But - i feel i must tell you, my dears -- what comes after this is everything else. And since this story is so complex, the plot boa constrictors have me in a stranglehold by now, i will have to write the entire kit and kaboodle before i post again. Like, all of it.

So this is me, once again begging for your patience, because this might kill me, but if it doesn’t, it’ll still take a while to do. The good news is that once i do get it written, the last chapters will come at a pretty fast clip.

Thanks to my Mythical Beauties @katie-dub, @ohmightydevviepuu, and most especially, always and forever, @profdanglaisstuff who encourage my lunacy and enable the eff out of me and keep me sane. i love you guys so much. 💕💕💕

@jennjenn615 & @kmomof4 - this chapter will not torture you (for a change) 😆. The same cannot be said for what’s about to come down the pipeline.

Thanks as ever to @captainsjedi for the lovely art.

And to all of you who are still reading this, patient as you are, THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH. You are wonderful and i love you A LOT. 💕💕💕

If you want on or off the tag list, let me know! (And seriously - if it’s ‘off’ - please don’t worry. Absolutely no hard feelings.)

@mariakov81 @stahlop @thejollyroger-writer @snowbellewells @captainsjedi @toomanyfandomstochoosefrom @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @mayquita @ohmightydevviepuu @sals86 @karenfrommisthaven @kmomof4 @kday426 @superchocovian @jennjenn615 @facesiousbutton82 @suwya @spartanguard @capnjay21 @shardminds @carpedzem @girl-in-a-tiny-box @ilovemesomekillianjones @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @teamhook @katie-dub @shireness-says @qualitycoffeethings @cluttermind @fragilebeautifulchaos @optomisticgirl @klynn-stormz @winterbaby89 @ethereal-madnesss @scientificapricot @fragilebeautifulchaos

CHAPTER 10

“Is Elsa coming?”

August and Victor are both looking at Killian as he puts away his phone and nods.

“She’ll be here in the morning.”

“What time is it now?” Emma asks, and Victor says, “T minus 29 hours until it’s my turn. Give or take.”

The sentence lands like a lead balloon and the entire room falls silent.

Until August says, “That’s not funny, Doc.” Then he looks up at Emma and adds, “It’s a little past 8 PM.”

8 PM , Emma thinks. Just 12 hours ago we were making our way down a hillside towards a corpse and our doom and we had no idea.

“I say we adjourn,” Victor says. “We’re all hungry and tired and we’re not going to get anything else done tonight.”

There’s a chorus of protest and he holds up his hand.

“I’m a doctor ,” he says. “Do you really want me to go into a lengthy explanation of brain chemistry versus sleep deprivation, or will you just fucking believe me and do what your doctor ordered? ”

August’s eyes get very soft as he gently punches Victor’s shoulder and says, “Now that was funny, Doc.”

And then he takes Victor by the hand and pulls him from the station almost at a run.

Emma looks at Killian and smiles, because it’s comforting how some things never change, and oh, the look he gives her in return.

It makes David blush. Across the room.

“I bet they can find a much better use for their time.” Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and grins. “And I agree with the doctor. I think we all could do with a break.”

David feels another atomic blush start to creep up his neck. This whole freshly-cooked lobster impression his skin insists on doing he could truly live without. Especially since Mary Margaret is looking straight at him now, eyebrows raised in silent question.

From out of the corner of his eye David can see Emma and Killian very much not looking at them, and then he hears Emma’s voice, as she says, “Take me home?”

Killian quietly replies, “Of course, love.” and Emma does not flinch at the last word.

Instead she beams at Killian. Her whole face lights up. Happy.

Killian smiles back, and even David can see how much the man has changed in just these few days. He is no longer the husk he first encountered at the diner; empty, weary, sardonic, and incredibly hungover. The man slouched at the counter that morning could not have smiled like that.

Emma nods at David and checks her watch.

“Let’s meet back here at 9 tomorrow morning,” she says, and then gives him a wicked grin. “If you two want to join us for breakfast, we’ll be at the diner around 8. But we understand if you can’t make it.”

And with that parting shot they leave, while Mary Margaret bursts out laughing and David’s face once again attempts to emulate the sun.

He tries to take a deep breath and say something coherent, anything at all, really, while Mary Margaret’s chuckle fades and she once again looks at him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

He can’t think of anything.

Nothing a thing.

And then she sighs. Shakes her head. Takes one step forward and then another, until they’re almost touching, and then she smiles an absolutely brilliant smile.

“So, David Nolan,” she says. Still smiling that thousand-watt smile. The kind that could light up an entire village. “Are you going to make me wait the whole night, or are you finally going to kiss me?”

And David decides that words are maybe not what this situation needs at all.

Action is.

He can do action.

Outside, in front of the station, Killian and Emma hear Mary Margaret’s happy squeal being cut off midway through and Killian quirks his left eyebrow suggestively.

Emma laughs out loud. Oh, that man can definitely get serious mileage out of a good innuendo. But he is not the only one.

“ Finally ,” she says. “Wasn’t that a long time coming.”

“It was.” Killian takes a step forward and puts his arms around her, wraps himself around her, tightly, and it feels ridiculously right . His lips brush hers gently. “So was this.” And then he kisses her.

Thoroughly.

When they pull apart she’s lightheaded and cannot wipe the stupid grin from her face. Not that she wants to. He leans his forehead against hers, their noses touching, his lips ghosting across her cheek, and it takes her forever to get her bearings. When they finally start walking, he keeps his arm around her waist, her body pulled tightly into his side, and it’s so easy, the way their strides match and their rhythm syncs up, the way he keeps nuzzling her neck and smiling. He’s happy. She can tell he’s happy.

Hell, people in Canada can probably tell he’s happy.

It makes her feel light and buoyant and hopeful -- even amidst all this threatening doom.

When they get to her house she can barely open the door before he pushes her inside, slams it closed with his heel and kisses her absolutely breathless, and when he pulls back his pupils are blown wide and she can feel him, hard as a rock against her. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, nothing but his ragged breathing, and Emma slowly lets her hand wander down his breastbone

and lower

until she feels him, wraps her hand around him, and he groans

helpless

and she grins up at him, unrepentantly.

And strokes him.

Once.

The sound he makes is feral .

With a growl he picks her up and marches her down the hallway as she wraps her legs around him and kisses his neck, his pulse point, his collarbone, and then he stops, whispers a strangled, “Which door?”, and she doesn’t look up, bites his jaw and points left, and with a snarl he twists the handle and takes two more strides and then finally, finally, they’re on the bed

their limbs tangled

their lips trailing fire

their hands frantically pulling fabric, pulling buttons, pulling belt loops and buckles and bra clasps, and then he stills above her

and she nearly sobs because god, she’s aching

she’s ready

and she lifts her hips, rubs herself down his cock and he groans as he enters her

AllAtOnce

GodItFeelsGoodYES

WhereHaveYouBeenAllMyLife

I’veWaitedSoLong

ForThis ForYou

She can feel it, from the tips of her toes to the top of her hairline, as she comes,

she comes---

And suddenly there is a spark - warm, glowing, golden - it erupts from her hands, shoots jets of light from her fingers,

envelops them

lifts, lifts them halfway off the mattress,

and she screams as he lets go

and they shudder

and they shake

and they collapse, fall back down, boneless and spent.

They lie there for minutes, just trying to catch their breath, and then she turns to look at his face. There are tears in his eyes.

Tears.

“Emma,” he whispers. Just that. Just her name. But she knows what he’s saying, knows it in the marrow of her bones and the bottom of her damaged, lonely, fortified heart, she knows.

And so she simply nods, and kisses him softly, and then pulls the covers over both of them.

-/-

In a quirky house on the outskirts of Boston, Elsa Jones rubs her tired eyes, looks at the clock, and calculates the time she has left to sleep before she has to leave. No matter which way she counts, it’s barely five hours. She sets her alarm, shucks off her shoes, and curls up on the couch with the afghan.

There really is no point in going to bed.

Twisted into tangled sheets in a New England country-style room at Granny’s, two men lie wrapped around each other, one dark-haired, one fair.

They have both given up pretending to be asleep, and try to enjoy just being together for now. Fingertips run lightly over warm skin, their breaths come slow and evenly.

“He is not getting you,” the dark-haired man says, for perhaps the tenth time.

The blond man smiles, just like he has all nine times before.

“Good,” he says. Then he looks up. “Stay,” he adds. “Please stay.”

The dark-haired man nods. “I was never going to leave.”

The blond man smiles again.

“That’s even better,” he says. “I was never going to let you go.”

And in a charmingly messy cabin bedroom on the outskirts of town, a teacher and a deputy lie spooned together under a checkered bedspread, fast asleep; another dark head and fair one, on the same pillow.

-/-

Killian very slowly takes Emma’s hand and threads his fingers through hers. He knows she’s awake, even though her eyes are closed. He pulls their hands up to kiss her knuckles and she smiles and slowly opens her eyes.

“Hey,” she says. Quiet and soft.

“Hey,” he answers. Just as quiet and soft.

“Are you OK?”

He nods. He is so much better than OK. He’s wonderful.

“I’m good, love,” he says, and notices how again, she doesn’t flinch. So wonderful. “You?”

She nods, and her smile gets wider.

“I’m very good,” she says. “Except that I really want some hot chocolate.”

She sits up, squeezes their entwined fingers.

“Want to go make some hot chocolate?”

He does.

Twenty minutes later they are curled up on the couch, in pyjamas and blankets, each with their own mug of what Killian thinks must be the most sinfully delicious thing he’s ever tasted, short of Emma, and then he remembers---

“That light before,” he blurts out. “Did I--- did I imagine that?”

Emma sighs and takes a long sip before she sets the cup down on the coffee table and looks up at him.

“No,” she shakes her head. “No, something definitely happened.”

“Do you think----” He can’t bring himself to say it out loud. He doesn’t want to spook her.

“I don’t know.” Her voice is a whisper now. “There was a---- it felt like a spark, and suddenly there was power . Energy, you know?”

He nods.

“I don’t know what it was.”

He can feel her uncertainty as she speaks, feel her hesitation. Her brow crinkles. He kisses the furrow, then leans his forehead against hers.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says. “It’s OK.”

She sighs and closes her eyes. “Whatever it was, it ignited , somehow. Or at least that’s what it felt like. And then it--- it just---”

“Shot from your fingers?”

“Yeah.” She pulls back and rolls her eyes. “But that’s crazy, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, Emma. I felt it. You felt it. It lifted us off the bed .” He smiles at her. “Whatever it was, it was real. And you are not crazy.”

-/-

In her Bangor morgue, Dr Ashley Boyd slowly closes the lid of a hard case filled with evidence bags and notes and flash drives. She clicks the clasps shut and grabs her coat and then carefully wheels the case out to her car.

The thump of her trunk lid slamming shut on top of the case echoes across the empty parking lot as she methodically opens the driver’s side door and starts the car. She sits there for almost a minute, engine idling, lost in thought.

Then she puts the car in gear and turns its nose towards Storybrooke.

-/-

“You asked me about my ancestors.”

They’ve been silent for many long minutes, and Killian nearly jumps when Emma speaks again. He tightens his arms around her. What he wouldn’t give for a moment of solace, for a time-out, for the chance to just be together, just enjoy each other for a little longer.

She folds her hand through his and squeezes, as if she heard him, as if she knew what he’s thinking, and he can feel her want it, too.

But time waits for no one.

“I did.” He kisses the top of her head as she sighs. “It’s a theory.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help. I’m sorry I don’t know anything.”

Even in his embrace he can feel her shoulders slump, and he tightens the arm around her waist as he pulls their entwined hands up to his heart.

“Emma,” he says. He loves saying her name. “Please don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”

She looks up and her eyes are suspiciously shiny.

“I don’t-----” Her voice cuts out and she clears her throat. “I feel useless.”

It hurts something deep inside of him, the way she says that. The way he can feel true pain leak through these few words.

He kisses her gently and squeezes her fingers again, and then reaches up to cup her cheek.

“You could never be useless,” he says. “You matter. You matter to me.”

A choked sob escapes her and then she’s kissing him, hard.

Minutes pass before she pulls back, her eyes still wet, but her smile wide and genuine.

“You’re never going back to your room at Granny’s, by the way,” she says. “You’re stuck with me now.”

His heart does a truly wonderful and terrifying leap and he has to take a second or fifteen to remember how to breathe before he can nod and say, “Good. That’s good.”

And then he has to hug her again.

“I think the hot chocolate is no longer hot,” she finally says, pointing her chin at the mugs on the coffee table after another long bout of silence.

He doesn’t care at all.

He has his arms full of Emma. That’s better than anything else.

“We’ll make more later,” he says and then pulls back to look at her. “Would you like to tell me what you do know?”

Her brow furrows. “How do you mean?”

He smiles. “About your past. About your beginnings. The things you know about it.”

She bites her lip and he hastens to add, “Only if you want to, of course. Not if it causes you pain, love.”

“No, it’s OK,” she says, and relaxes against him. “There’s not that much to tell, and----” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t mind sharing it with you.”

He knows the magnitude of this gift she’s giving him. Knows that this is a big thing for her.

Waits until she speaks again.

“There’s not much to tell.” Her voice is matter-of-fact. “I was found by the side of a highway. A country road, not an interstate - not far from Portland. The police report actually doesn’t state which one, so I’m not altogether sure, even though I’ve spent--- well, some time trying to figure it out.”

She shudders and he tightens his arms.

“Are you cold?” He whispers.

“No.” She shakes her head. Burrows deeper into the blanket. “These are just very old ghosts. I’m fine.” Still that calm, neutral voice.

It takes her a few moments, before she goes on.

He just waits.

“Anyway,” she finally says, “I was found by a random boy taking a shortcut home from school. He thought I was a toy at first, or at least that’s what the papers said. They didn’t identify the boy by name, and neither did the police report, since he was a minor. Only seven years old, I believe. Which is odd, because what 7-year-old walks home from school alone?” Her voice sounds far away now, very much lost in thought. “Not that it matters,” she goes on. Back to matter-of-fact. “He found me and I guess he realized I was an actual human baby once I started crying, and so he carried the basket I was in to the nearest adult. And thus I entered the system.”

Something cold and hard tightens in his stomach at those words, at the meaning behind them, and he buries his nose in her hair.

“I’m so sorry love,” he says softly.

She chuckles a dry, mirthless laugh. “It is what it is.”

He half expects her to go rigid, to close off, but instead she exhales a long breath and relaxes into his embrace, leans her head against his shoulder, her fingers playing idly with the folds of his sleeve.

“There’s not much else to tell.” Her voice is pensive now, quiet, and he’ll take that over her eerie neutral any day. “There was a string of foster homes and group homes and failed escapes.” Again that mirthless chuckle. “They always catch you.” She shrugs. “No matter how fast or how far you run.”

There’s nothing he can say. All he can do is hold her tightly and hope she feels that he’s here. With her.

Especially since he is busy trying not to imagine what would compel a teenager to run away, to want to exchange a roof over her head for a life on the streets. He can’t imagine it, because he’ll go mental, and that is not what Emma needs.

“But the last time they caught me, I ended up in a holding cell in Bangor,” she goes on and snaps his thoughts back out of the screeching loop of cruel siblings and bullies and predatory foster fathers. “And that’s where I met Ashley.” She smiles. “Dr Boyd, you know?”

He nods and she shifts slightly, lets her hand wander down his arm, puts it on his.

“She just happened to be at the station. She was doing her residency at Portland Mercy, was just contemplating going into forensic medicine, and happened to be in Bangor that day, for a meeting with the coroner. I was waiting to be processed out and she sat down next to me on the bench and just started talking to me. She asked me what I was doing there and I told her. I thought it would shut her up, but instead she started to ask me lots of questions. Most of them hypothetical. Like, what did I think of the criminal justice system, and the duties of law enforcement, and so on.”

She chuckles again, and this time it’s genuine.

“Anyway, I was bored, and the woman from child services was taking forever, and so I answered every one. And after Ashley was done asking me all these questions she said -- and I will never forget this -- she said, ‘You’re too smart to be this stupid, kid.’ She told me to stop fucking around, and to tough it out and stop running away, and that I had a great future in law enforcement ahead of me. And that I should become a sheriff, not a cop. She said I would do well in a self-contained space where I could make my own decisions, and that a metropolitan precinct would just grind me up and spit me back out.”

This time she laughs out loud, and so does he.

“She certainly had your number,” he says.

“She certainly did.” Emma nods. “And thank my lucky stars she did, because for once in my life, I took someone’s advice. And she turned out to be right. Of course. It’s really infuriating just how often she’s right.”

He has to take a deep breath because again he’s not thinking of things, things like how they never would have met if she hadn’t ended up on a police station bench in a medium-sized town in Maine of all places, and he whispers, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

She leans up, kisses his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, and he bends down, catches her lips, soft and warm and wonderful against his.

Warm and wonderful.

Warm.

That golden warmth spreads through him again, and finds an answering glow in Emma, and they both look at her hands, sparking, humming, luminous ---

Light threads through her fingers, curls up her arms, almost playful, and he reaches out, can’t not reach for her, and when his hand touches hers the light explodes, becomes a focused, powerful beam, shooting straight at the wall, and for a moment

one

brief

endless

moment

the wall disappears

and there is darkness

and wind

and the roll of thunder

and the crash of waves

and the screaming of beasts

and then nothing.

Just a wall.

And two people on a sofa, wrapped around each other.

Holding hands.

#cs fic #cs fic rec #thisonesatellite #if you live by the word #sheriff!Emma #detective!Killian #and a moment of peace #a moment of calm #before i bring the lightning and the thunder #literally #:)

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

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The Most Dramatic Season Ever - Week 7 - Fantasy Suites

Summary: It’s your time now! You are ABC’s new Bachelorette and this is your journey! All these men (including our fav BoRhap boys and then some) are competing for your heart! Will you find love? Will you get engaged at the end? Or will you end up heartbroken? Find out, on the most dramatic season ever!

Word Count: 7k (i’m finally chilling tf out)

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @moon-stars-soul, @danadeacon, @deacyblues, @thesundrop, @cupidben, @lostlittlenerd, @delilahmay39, @timmvrphy, @queenmylovely, @loveandbeloved29, @free-pool-trash, @fairestkillerqueenofall, @local-troubled-writer, @babyalienfairy, @littlecarowrites, @allthethingsicant, @im-an-adult-ish, @mirkwoodshewolf, @squishy-gay-astronaut, @sherlollydramoine, @butlegendsneverdie, @dogmom2014, @rocketrhap917, @26-7-49, @lelifesaver, @frozenhuntress67, @drowsebaby If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long and that it’s a little shorter. Writing has been hard as I’ve been really depressed this week. We moved my grandfather to a hospice house and dancing (the only thing that keeps me sane) has been cancelled. Anyway, I hope y’all are all staying healthy and safe :)

Warning(s): OKAY I thought about doing some smut in this chapter, but then decided against it. I don’t think it fits the format, since so far it’s been like watching the show. That being said, I got as steamy as I felt was cool. So, it’s steamy but it’s not like completely NSFW. I hope y’all enjoy :)

Night 1 Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4 Week 5 Week 6

Week 7 here we go!!!

The flight to New Zealand was long and tiring. It took almost an entire twenty four hours of travel. You tried to get some rest, but it was tough, since your heart was still breaking for Rami. It did not ease your pain to remind yourself that it was the right choice. It was the toughest breakup so far. And you were anxious because it only got harder. Especially because you were in love with the three remaining men.

This of course, made your decision even more difficult. You needed these overnight dates to determine who was further along and who was ready for a proposal. But the overnight aspect did have you a bit nervous.

Sex didn’t frighten you. But it usually deepened your feelings, so you needed to know how they felt before going to bed with them. And whether or not they were truly ready to commit themselves to you.

After a day to recover, you had your first date. It was with Joe, which of course, excited you. Joe’s hometown had been wonderful, but you needed to know if he loved you. If he was in this as deep as you were.

Joe: I think I’m more nervous this week than I’ve ever been before. Knowing that Y/N and I could have the night together and take our relationship to the next level is really important to me. I also know that I’m in love with her and I need to tell her. My biggest frustration is that I know she can’t say it back. But I need some sort of validation because I’m starting to lose my mind a little bit. I didn’t think this whole journey was gonna be this hard…

You were meeting Joe in Hobbiton, where Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movies were filmed. You were stoked when you got to the bar in Ireland based on The Shire, but now you were getting as close to the real thing as possible. It was an odd combination of nerves and thrill for you. You hoped you got to where you needed to be with Joe because you weren’t ready to say goodbye.

You beamed at him as he approached, your heart easing at his familiar form. He started to jog over when he saw you. When he reached you, he scooped you up in his arms as you laughed together. He set you down so he could kiss you.

“Hey,” he said quietly when your lips parted.

“Hey,” you returned sweetly. “Are you ready for today?”

“I’m stoked,” he assured you.

“Well, we’re touring Hobbiton,” you said with a smile. “So I think it’s gonna be great!”

You took his hand and led him up the path to Bag End. There, you met a guide, who began to walk you through the entire set. It was so cool to see everything in person and to witness the work that went into making such a huge, legendary film. The sun was shining and you felt it made the grass around you almost glow green. It was the loveliest day. After the tour, you sat together at The Green Dragon Inn, each with a drink. You toasted to your journey and took a sip.

“So, how are you feeling after last week?” Joe asked. “I know this is getting harder for you as the feelings get deeper.”

That was what you loved about Joe. He understood you, and never made you feel bad that this was the situation you were in.

“I’m okay,” you told him. “Obviously, last week was difficult, saying goodbye to Rami, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I’m optimistic about what this week will bring. Hopefully, it’s clarity.”

“I hope that for you as well,” he said. “I’m glad to hear you’re staying positive. Getting too caught up in the heartbreak...it’ll just bring you down. And I really want you to be happy.”

“That’s what I want too,” you said. “That’s the reason I’m here, y’know?”

“It’s the reason we’re all here,” he replied.

You each sipped your drinks some more and chatted about the experience. The day slipped by all too quickly. Before you knew it, it was time to part ways and get ready for the evening portion of the date. You carefully selected your dress. It was going to be a big night after all.

You met at the hotel where you were staying, and had a patio table all to yourselves. The lighting was low, just candles and soft, yellow bulbs. Drinks and dinner were set out and waiting for you. Joe pulled your chair out and let you sit, before taking the chair next to you.

“So,” you said. “Here’s to a wonderful day, and an even more wonderful evening.”

“Cheers, baby,” he replied.

You clinked glasses. When you set them down, you looked at him.

“So, I know this is a weird date,” you said. “There’s no rose to hand out, but there is something at the end, and I -”

“Y/N, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he said. “I know that it’s the fantasy suite, and I just want to tell you there’s no pressure. I’m really happy with where we are.”

You smiled. “I am too.”

He took a deep breath. “Honestly, there was only one thing I regretted about last week in New York.”

“Oh?” you wondered, brow furrowing. “What’s that?”

“I should have been honest with you,” he said. “The truth is, Y/N, I’m in love with you. Spending this day together only solidified that for me. I love you. With my whole heart.”

A smile spread slowly across your face as he spoke.

“Joe, I…” you trailed off, stopping yourself before saying what was on your heart. But only because you couldn’t say it. If you were not the Bachelorette, you would have told him that you loved him too.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “It means so much.”

“I just want to keep you informed with where my heart is,” he said.

You beamed at him and leaned over to kiss him. Even kissing him felt better with his feelings out in the open. When you parted, you were still smiling.

“So,” you said, reaching over to the table and retrieving an envelope there. “We have this little offer here, and I’d like you to read it.”

You handed him the envelope. He opened it up and read over the words once before reading it aloud with a little grin on his face.

“Y/N and Joe,” he began. “Welcome to New Zealand. I hope you’ve enjoyed the lush world of Hobbiton today. Should you choose to forgo your individual rooms, please use this key to stay as a couple in the fantasy suite. Chris Harrison.”

“What do you think?” you asked with a smirk.

“I’d love to spend the night with you,” he said, but you detected some hesitation there.

“But?”

“No buts,” he replied with a small laugh. “I just want you to know that I meant what I said before. There’s no pressure. We don’t have to do anything-”

You cut him off with a deep kiss.

“Joe,” you said. “I’m attracted to you. You make me feel so loved and desired. So, let’s go up to the fantasy suite and explore that more.”

He smiled. “Whatever you want, Y/N. I love you.”

You grinned wider at him. Then, taking his hand, you led him away and up to the main part of the hotel. Your suite was on the top floor so you took the elevator. For the whole ride, your heart was pounding. Your skin felt hotter each time he squeezed your hand. You were tempted to begin things right at that moment, but you had to wait until you were off camera.

After two agonizing minutes, the elevator dinged and opened its doors. You and Joe were both clearly holding back from running to the room. When you made it to the suite, he opened the door, and you saw the whole romantic set up. There were candles everywhere. A bottle of champagne sat on ice in the kitchen, with two glasses on the counter. Rose petals made a path from the front door to the bedroom door.

“This is beautiful,” you said, looking around.

“It really is,” he agreed. “But honestly, I wanna kiss you so bad, I can’t focus on it.”

“Well then,” you said. “Come here and kiss me.”

He made it to you in two strides, his lips claiming yours in the most heated kiss of your life. Your stomach lurched with fresh desire as he nipped at your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth. He lifted you off your feet when you coiled your arms around his neck. Then he carried you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut. Finally, the cameras and producers were gone and it was just the two of you.

You were still kissing Joe when he set you back on your feet. You had become frantic with need for him. He chuckled into your kisses.

“Y/N,” he said, taking hold of your shoulders. “Y/N, slow down.”

You bit back a whine as he gently pushed you away.

“We’ve got all night,” he said. “We don’t have to rush.”

“The sooner we do it,” you returned. “The sooner we can do it again.”

He threw his head back and laughed. You smiled.

“Okay, we can go as many times as you like, but for our first time together, I really…” he trailed off. “I really wanna make love to you.”

“I’d love that,” you told him with a smile.

Your heart melted at his sentiment, but you had not lost any of the desire. You turned your back to him and moved your hair aside so he could unzip your dress. You heard him step toward you. Then his hands were on the zipper, the top of which was right at the nape of your neck. You gasped at the contact as your body begged for more.

Inch by inch, he lowered the zipper. You shivered when the air hit your back before Joe leaned down and kissed the newly exposed skin. You bit your lip.

He turned off your mic pack, which was at your lower back, and removed it, tossing it away. The straps of your dress fell from your shoulders. You faced him again. The fabric fell away from your body, revealing your bare chest to him. You hadn’t worn a bra. Joe sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes flickered down to your breasts before returning to your face.

“Like what you see?” you teased.

“Love it,” he said, pulling you into his arms again. “I love you.”

You giggled. “You can’t stop saying it.”

“No, nor will I,” he returned firmly.

You smiled again.

The way Joe made love to you was like nothing you had ever experienced before. It was slow, deliberate, and deep. He reached your very soul. He showed you the strength of his love with every kiss, every thrust, and every soft whisper of your name. Love was not just a word to Joe. It was something that required action. And you saw after that night that he was steadfast and strong. There was no doubt that he truly loved you. He showed you four times.

When you woke beside him the next morning, tucked safely in his arms, you smiled and hummed contentedly. You snuggled down closer. It almost made you wince, since your body was sore. It was the sweetest soreness you had ever felt. Joe shifted, eyes fluttering open. His smile was the only one that could match your own.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Morning, beautiful,” he replied, voice low with the morning.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked.

“Wonderfully,” he said. “You?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in months,” you answered with a giggle.

“Good, then I did my job,” he joked.

You laughed again as he rolled half on top of you. He lowered his lips to yours. It was a soft and delicate kiss, since neither of you wanted to heat things up again without proper time. When he pulled back, he looked into your eyes.

“I think I could do this forever,” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“Wake up to you,” he said.

“Me too,” you returned.

You cupped his cheek in your hand. The urge to tell him your feelings arose again. But you didn’t want to confuse him or hurt him. On the other hand, you felt it so strongly. He deserved some validation, didn’t he?

“Joe, I love you,” you said, so quietly you wondered if you had even said it aloud. But the look on his face told you that you did.

His eyes widened at first. Then, his brow furrowed. He was wondering if he’d heard you right. Then, all that melted away into the biggest grin you’d ever seen on his lips.

“Y/N, I can’t tell you what it means to hear you say that,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you returned.

It felt so right like this. But then, reality set in. Joe had to return to his hotel. You had two other dates this week. Two other men, who you also adored. As you got up and dressed, you tried not to despair.

You held it together well enough until it was time for Joe to go. He had his backpack slung over his shoulder and he was standing by the door. You slid your arms around him and buried your face in his chest.

“I don’t want you to go,” you said, voice shaking.

He kissed the top of your head. “I wish I didn’t have to, baby.”

You held each other for a long moment as a lump formed in your throat. You sniffled, but tried to hide it, burrowing further into him. He still noticed.

“Hey…” he said gently, pulling away to look at your face. “Hey, don’t cry, honey, I’ll see you soon.”

He wiped a stray tear with his thumb. Then, he pressed his lips to your forehead. Slowly, he detached himself from you. He had to, or you would have held him there all day.

“See you later,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you choked out.

He gave your hand one last squeeze before releasing it and walking through the door. You closed it behind him. You leaned back against it and sank down to the floor, pulling your knees into your chest. Your heart was aching, and you just hoped you hadn’t made a mistake by confessing to Joe.

You had to travel later that day, since your next date was hours away, on the coast. Missing Joe terribly, you made your way to Papamoa Beach, where you would have a date with Ben the following day. The thought of seeing Ben raised your spirits.

The morning of your date, you were feeling much better. You had so much to look forward to with Ben. He was fun and cheerful and had the sweetest heart. And this date was going to be really cool.

You met him on the beach, wearing just a pair of shorts over your bathing suit. Ben came out onto the sand, looking straight out of a magazine in his tank top and swim trunks. You waved to him and he jogged over to you, planting an enthusiastic kiss on your lips when he reached you. You beamed at him as you parted.

“So, what have you got in store for today?” he asked.

“Something super fun,” you told him. “Since you’re so active, I know you’ll love it.”

“Now, I’m very curious,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Come with me,” you said, taking his hand.

Together, you walked down the beach, where a tall, broad man with long dark hair was waiting for you. He was extremely tan, so you figured he spent most of his days out here.

“Hello, Y/N and Ben,” he said with a thick New Zealand accent. “I’m AJ and I’m your surfing instructor for today. Have either of you ever surfed before?”

“I have,” Ben said.

“I have not,” you admitted.

“Alright, that’s perfectly fine,” AJ said. “We teach all ages and skill levels. We’ve got some suits and boards waiting for you in there.”

He pointed to the building of the surf school. You and Ben went in and got changed. When you came back out, Ben looked you up and down before biting his lip. You stifled a giggle.

Ben: I’m having such a wonderful time on this date. Y/N looks amazing in that bodysuit, so I am so grateful tonight’s the fantasy suite because it’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off her. Obviously, it’s all up to her, I’m thrilled just to hold her, but I am ready for more. To take our relationship further and grow more together.

You were each given a board and then you followed AJ. He gave you some instruction on the sand - and some important safety information - but before you knew it, you were in the water, paddling out to beyond where the waves were starting. AJ went over a few more basics, and helped you find your balance on the board.

Ben tried to ride a wave first, since he had done it before. He looked so good out there. He smiled, tongue poking out between his teeth, and he glided through the water on the crest of the wave. You wondered how many times he had done this because he didn’t seem nervous. He had clearly mastered the art.

You had no such luck. Even keeping in mind everything AJ told you, your timing was off when you tried to stand up, and the wave knocked you clear off the board. The ocean tossed you around a minute as the wave moved past you. Then you kicked up toward the surface. You sucked in air and wiped your eyes as you broke it.

You were already laughing along with Ben and AJ. You knew it looked hilarious. Ben’s smile was infectious as you climbed back on the board and paddled back to where he waited for you.

“It was a great try, love,” he said through his laughter.

“You’re just being nice, it was terrible,” you returned.

“Not to worry,” AJ assured you. “There’s still lots of ocean for you to try.”

You made several more attempts. Ben did as well, nailing it over and over again. You, on the other hand, were missing the mark. It got to the point where you were actually getting frustrated.

“Come on, love,” Ben said at last. “Don’t pout. You can do it.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, to his amusement.

“Try one more time,” he encouraged.

You met his eyes, and at the look on his face, your resentment ebbed away. He wasn’t being condescending or spouting empty words of praise. He really believed in you.

With a determined smirk, you got back on the board. You waited a minute or two before you saw it coming - the perfect wave. Eagerly, you began to paddle forward. You were going to get it this time. You had to.

You rode it until just before it crested. You popped up onto your feet. You didn’t fall! You were riding the wave! Adrenaline surged through you as you surfed - properly surfed! Your legs were wobbly, but you didn’t fall until the wave crashed, and you went down. But this time, you went down having accomplished the goal. When your head broke the surface again, Ben was already beside you, pulling you out of the water and onto his board.

“That was amazing, love!” he cheered.

“I did it!” you cried.

“You did it!” he affirmed.

He sat you down beside him and kissed you. Your mouths were wet and salty from being in the ocean all day, but you didn’t care. You had triumphed because he supported you. His hands found their way to the sides of your face as he deepened the kiss.

“Incredible,” he said.

You chuckled. “You were incredible. I didn’t manage to actually do it until the end.”

“Well, I’m bloody proud of you,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, beaming.

After the lesson, you returned to shore to have a small picnic. It was just cheese and crackers with some wine. The suits and boards, you returned to AJ. Then you both sat on the blanket, realizing you were starving, and went in on the food.

“So, where’d you learn to surf?” you wondered.

“In California,” he said. “We had a series of matches out there, and in my down time, I picked it up. Then I got my whole team doing it.”

“Well, it was super sexy,” you told him.

“You’re way sexier,” he argued. “Your body in that suit was...incredible.”

You flushed at his words and under his gaze.

You chatted a little longer on the beach. Then it was time to prepare for the evening portion of the date. You were excited to be in a dress and makeup after Ben had watched you wipe out all day. Not that you minded being goofy around him, but tonight was big. You wanted to be beautiful and sexy.

You walked with him to a beach side bar that was reserved for you. The candlelight was soft and warm, and made you feel cozy despite the breeze. Ben pulled your chair out for you. You sat down together.

“Thanks for being so supportive today,” you said. “I was being such a baby.”

“No, you weren’t,” he assured you. “It’s natural to get frustrated at stuff like that.”

“You were still so amazing to me,” you said. “I appreciate you so much.”

“Of course,” he said. “I love you.”

You were convinced you’d never grow tired of hearing those words from his mouth. Once again, you were struck with the desire to say it back. But you refrained. You were already feeling guilty for telling Joe, and you didn’t want to do the same thing with Ben. You smiled.

“I feel like your hometown date went so well,” you said. “This is going in a direction that makes me excited. I feel so sure of you, Ben. I know it made me nervous when you told me that you’ve never been in love before, but I’m not now.”

“No?” he wondered.

You shook your head. “I can feel what you feel for me. And you show me every time we’re together.”

You took his hand and stared into his eyes. You felt the words coming up in your throat. Only, you couldn’t stop them. You felt them too powerfully.

“I love you too, Ben,” you said.

Inwardly, you kicked yourself. How did these guys make your resolve so weak? Not that you minded too much, but you felt like you were messing up. Like it wasn’t decent behavior for the Bachelorette.

Ben’s smile made your regret fade. It didn’t disappear entirely, but you felt better that you’d said it.

“I love you more,” he said.

“Oh, don’t start,” you joked.

You laughed together. When it died down, you squeezed his hand.

“We’ve come a long way,” you said. “This journey hasn’t always been easy, but I want to keep going with you.”

“I do too,” he said.

“So, there’s an envelope on the table,” you said. “Why don’t you open it and read what’s inside?”

He smiled - making your heart jump - and then reached over to pick it up. You waited with bated breath as he cracked open the seal and pulled out the card.

“Y/N and Ben,” he read. “Welcome to beautiful Papamoa Beach. I hope you enjoyed learning something new together. Should you choose to forgo your individual rooms, please use this key to stay as a couple in the fantasy suite. Chris Harrison.”

“What do you say?” you wondered.

“I say absolutely,” he told you. “How could I not want more time with you?”

You giggled.

Just down the beach from the bar, production had put together a glamorous hut. It sat a good ways from the shoreline for when high tide came in, but you could still see the ocean from the doorway. Inside, there was a gorgeous queen bed. Candles and twinkle lights illuminated the one room structure with a soft, warm glow. Rose petals dotted the white comforter. Champagne was already iced down and waiting for you on the side table.

“Is this glamping?” Ben teased.

“This is definitely glamping,” you replied with a smirk.

“There’s nobody I’d rather glamp with,” he said.

“Same,” you returned.

With that, he closed the door to the cameras. You turned off your mic packs first thing. A beat passed as you looked at each other. Then you collided. It was all frantic tongue and teeth at first, desperate as you were to be close. You felt Ben’s hands at the back of your dress. He tugged the zipper down and it fell away from your body. You shoved his blazer off his shoulders and then quickly got to work on the buttons of his shirt.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed onto your neck as he kissed you. “You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.”

“I love you, Ben,” you sighed back.

You kissed his chest when you opened his shirt up. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. It forced you to pause. You stood there together, you just in your thong and he was shirtless. Your chests pressed together made you feel his heartbeat. It matched your own. Hot desire coursed through you. You wanted more, but he held you firmly.

“Just a minute,” he said. “Gotta breathe.”

You rested your head on his chest. You realized that you needed to breathe too. So, you caught your breath together. As you slowly inhaled and exhaled, you felt yourself uniting with Ben. Your hearts beat together. Your lungs worked together. Your bodies could have melted into each other. It was a moment of true tenderness, where your heart met his.

As your breathing evened out, both your hands began to roam. Fingers brushed deftly over sweltering skin. It sent a shiver up your spine to feel the feather lightness of his touch.

“How do you want this?” he asked.

You held his gaze. His pupils were blown wide with lust, but they were still that charming shade of green. You smiled. His eagerness to please you was not something you were used to. No man had ever asked for explicit instructions.

“I want you in every way I can have you,” you told him.

“Maybe I should clarify,” he chuckled. “How do you want me first? Tell me what will make you feel best.”

You blushed. “Really?”

He shrugged and rubbed your back. “What can I say? I’m an athlete, I like to be coached.”

“Well then,” you replied. “You can start by kissing me again.”

“I’ll kiss you forever.”

He claimed your lips once more, passionately. As your desire grew, you found it easier to tell him what you wanted. Ben was an attentive and giving lover. He seemed to thrive on your instructions and requests. It showed you the kind of man he was. He would do anything in the world for you. Your happiness was his happiness. Your pleasure was his pleasure. Your love was his love.

You and Ben only made love twice because he spent so much time exploring each other. He was so intent on making you feel amazing - something he accomplished over and over again. You’d never had so many orgasms in one night. And each one made you see stars. Your love for Ben ripened into deep passion.

The next morning, Ben was awake before you. He rolled over and saw the morning light catch your hair, and he felt a pang of sadness. As much as he was enjoying this, his time with you was almost over. You had another date, and unfortunately could not spend the whole day together. Still, he watched you sleep a moment longer.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he placed a soft kiss to your cheek. Even asleep, you smiled. You stirred and stretched slowly. Finally, your eyes opened and you took in Ben’s familiar form.

“Morning,” you yawned.

“Morning, love,” he replied. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You can always wake me with kisses, hun,” you assured him.

He smiled half heartedly and looked away. You rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up onto your elbows.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m just…” he sighed. “I’ll be very sorry to leave you today. I hate this.”

You cut your eyes away from him so he wouldn’t see you tearing up.

“I hate this too.”

He gathered you up in his arms, laying you on his chest.

“I know I’ll see you again soon,” he said. “But I also know there are still two other men in this. I just...I don’t know if...I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I can’t promise anything right now. I don’t even know what decisions I’ll make at this point. And it’s so unfair to you because I know what all of y’all need right now is some validation, and I just...I’m not able to do it, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, don’t apologize,” he soothed you, kissing the top of your head. “S’alright. It’s just getting more difficult for me, and I want you to know where my head’s at.”

“I get that,” you said. “I appreciate you being so honest with me, Ben. Really. I wish there was something I could do to make it better, but even though I can’t, I want to know what you’re thinking. And how you’re feeling.”

“I’ll do my best to be open,” he said. “But I want you to do the same for me. As much as you can. The last thing I want is to be blindsided.”

“I understand,” you said. “I will tell you my feelings as soon as I can. I never want to hurt you.”

“Thanks, love,” he said.

You had some breakfast before he had to leave. It was another gut-wrenching goodbye. Things were more serious with Ben than you had anticipated. And now you had told two men that you loved them. It hit you suddenly that you were going to break someone’s heart. And you still had one more date left in the week.

You felt heavy going into your date with Gwilym. Once again, you had to travel a bit to get to where you were meeting him. As excited as you were to see him, you were also terrified. You knew how you felt about Gwilym, and it was strong. You knew he felt similarly, though he hadn’t said outright that he loved you. You needed to clarify everything.

You met Gwilym just outside your destination. He smiled widely at you, and you rushed forward to jump into his arms. He caught you as you wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him deeply.

“Well,” he chuckled as your lips parted. “I missed you too.”

“I hope you’re ready for today,” you replied.

He set you down, but kept a hold of your hand.

“What are we getting up to?” he asked.

“We are at Polynesian Spa,” you explained. “We are going to get treated today and relax after all these crazy weeks. That sound good?”

“That sounds perfect,” he said.

You went inside together. You and Gwil got the full treatment. You started with facials, before moving on to a massage. Your body was physically relaxed, but your mind was sort of going wild. Luckily, the nature of this day helped you to forget about the stress of your situation. During your massage, you cleared your mind and let yourself live in this moment with Gwilym.

After your massage, you went out to a private pool that overlooked Lake Rotorua. The water was warm and soothing. You felt especially relaxed now after being pampered, and you just wanted to enjoy this time with Gwilym.

“I’m so glad we get to chill,” you said, moving closer and leaning into him. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“I am too,” he replied. “Has your week been difficult?”

“A bit,” you said. “I’m feeling the pressure of things even more now than I was before, and I know that feelings are going to get hurt and I just….this is getting hard.”

“I’m sorry, cariad,” he said gently, kissing your head. “We’re coming to the end. Your feelings are real. Of course it’s hard.”

“How are you feeling?” you wondered.

“I’m feeling really good about us,” he told you. “I feel like last week went well. My family adored you. Which affirmed my feelings a lot.”

“I liked your family a lot too,” you said. “Your mom mentioned how hard you took your fiance’s death and it showed me how much they care about you. I admire that.”

“Yes, I relied quite heavily on my family during that time,” he said. “I even stopped going to read to the children for a while. I was just...not at all myself.”

“It’s almost hard for me to imagine,” you said. “I feel like you’re such a wonderful person and you’re mostly positive.”

“Grief is a great complexity,” he said. “I still don’t understand a lot of what I went through. But I know that every step of my life has led me to you. And for that, I’m most grateful.”

You smiled and straightened up to look at him. Then you coiled your arms around his neck, splashing the water a little bit, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I’m so grateful I met you too,” you replied when you parted. “I thank God every day for it.”

He kissed you again. You stayed there, making out with him, for what felt like hours. You didn’t feel the sun or the water. Just Gwilym’s mouth on yours. You swore you steamed up the pool with the heat of the kisses. It made you grateful that tonight was the fantasy suite. You were so attracted to him, and you wanted to explore the physical connection some more.

As the sun began to set over the water, it was time to get ready for the evening portion of the date.

Gwilym: I’m excited about tonight. Y/N and I have a wonderful connection. We’ve been strong since the beginning. Truly, I could see us at the end of all this. I’m still falling steadily in love with her, and I want to explore our relationship further. I want to keep working on our relationship forever, hopefully.

You met up with Gwilym at a bar that had been reserved for the two of you. As relaxed as you’d felt earlier, your body was now tense. You needed to have a serious talk with Gwilym about the relationship and find out where he stood.

You sat down together at a little table. He pulled your chair out for you, and you thanked him. Then, he took up his drink as he sat beside you.

“To a wonderful day,” he said. “And the most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Cheers,” you giggled.

You clinked glasses and you each took a sip.

“So,” you said, setting your wine down. “I feel like we need to talk about where we are and how exactly we’re feeling.”

“I’m alright with that,” he said. “Would you like to start?”

“Sure,” you said. “Gwilym, I’m definitely falling in love with you. You have stood out to me since night one, and I think we’ve had a really solid relationship. I appreciate your honesty, how dedicated you are to this, and your vulnerability. I know I can see a future with you.”

He smiled as you spoke.

“That’s lovely to hear,” he said. “I feel the same. We’re going strong. You’ve been as fair and honest in this whole process as you could, and I appreciate it. You make it so easy to be vulnerable with you because you are also so open. We’ve both really let our walls down. I fall more in love with you every day.”

You deflated a little. “So, that’s how you’re feeling. You’re falling in love with me?”

“Yes,” he told you. “That’s where my heart is.”

Your heart sank. So, he was falling behind. He noticed your expression shift.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

You sighed. “I feel like….we need to be further along than this.”

“How do you mean?” he pressed.

“You were falling in love with me back in London,” you said. “If you’re in the same place, then it means we’re not progressing.”

He took a sip of his drink, swallowing slowly as he returned it to the table.

“Where do you think we should be?” he wondered.

“I don’t know if we need to be at a certain place,” you said. “But we should be further along than we were a couple weeks ago. We need to be going forward.”

“Just because I’m still falling doesn’t mean we haven’t made progress,” he argued. “I need time to know you more. For me, falling in love….it’s a long way down before I can get there.”

“I understand that,” you said. “But I still feel like we’ve just...plateaued since our one on one. And if we’re going to get engaged soon, then I need to feel like we’re climbing.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes remained fixed on the table. Your heart was beginning to beat wildly against your rib cage.

“Gwil, please, I -”

“Y/N, I can’t tell you that I’m in love with you while you’re still involved with two other men,” he said, cutting across you. “I want to be the one at the end of this who gets down on one knee, but I cannot fully give my heart to you until you can give yours to me.”

For a moment, it felt like all the air was sucked out of your body. It was such a confusing thing to hear. Did that mean that he was in love with you and he just wasn’t saying it? That felt like a betrayal, especially when he’d always promised to be honest with you.

“So…” you began, deciding to ask the blunt question. “Are you in love with me? It’s your pride that won’t let you say it because there are still two other guys here?”

He sighed. “That’s not it. I don’t think I can get there unless we’re getting there together. I’m not in love with you yet.”

“Gwilym, that doesn’t make any sense!” you cried. “You knew what this process was when you signed up for it. Don’t you think you need to be in love before you get engaged?”

“Yes, of course, that’s the idea,” he returned. “But, because this is a unique journey, I knew that I’d need to be actually proposing before I could feel like we can really love each other. I don’t have that confidence while the others are still here.”

“None of you can be absolutely confident,” you said. “I’m not even confident of what decision I’ll make right now. But you have to take a chance. I know my heart is being pulled in different directions right now, but if I don’t have confidence that you’re where I need you to be in order for me to accept a proposal from you...then I don’t know what we’re going to do, Gwil. Because I need to be in love before I can say yes to someone.”

“Joe and Ben...have they told you they’re in love with you?” he asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” you replied.

“Right, sorry,” he said. “But I am getting the impression that it’s not that we haven’t made progress, it’s that I haven’t made the same progress as they have.”

“This isn’t about them,” you said. “This is about me and you. Our relationship is not about what’s going on with the other relationships.”

“But you must compare them,” he said. “How else do you make a decision?”

“I make my decision based on what happens between each person,” you said. “Yeah, some comparison happens, but I evaluate everything individually.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to call you into question. You’ve been an excellent Bachelorette, but that’s just the thing. You’re the Bachelorette. If your heart really is being pulled in other directions, then can’t you understand why I struggle to feel confident?”

“I do,” you said. “And I’ve been in your shoes, remember? I’ve been on the other side of this. But I wasn’t afraid. I let myself take the chance and fall in love.”

A beat passed. He once again, did not answer. You took his hand.

“I’m doing the same thing now,” you said. “I love you, Gwilym.”

He stiffened and squeezed his fingers around yours.

“I…” he trailed off. “I’m sorry. I just can’t get there like this.”

You took a shaky breath, choking back tears. “So, what’s going to happen with us? Where are we going to go from here?”

“I dunno, Y/N,” he said. “I just don’t know.”

To be continued...

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southeastasianhistories · 4 years ago

Text

The Australian external territory of Christmas Island is infamous for its immigrant detention center. But the island also has a history of solidarity: in the 1970s, its Chinese and Malaysian workers led a union struggle against colonialism and apartheid.

Christmas Island rises from the Indian Ocean around 1,600 kilometers from Australia. Closer to Singapore than the mainland, it is home to a population of around two thousand people, the majority of whom have Chinese ancestry, with a sizable minority of people of Malay heritage. This tropical rocky speck is unlike most of Australia — on Christmas Island, Lunar New Year, Hari Raya Haji, and Hari Raya Puasa are public holidays.

Christmas Island is well known to Australians, but not for its natural beauty or unique red crab migrations. Rather, this far-flung external territory primarily features in Australia’s consciousness as a site of human misery. It plays host to an infamous immigration detention center, a cornerstone of a draconian border protection system that has driven Australian politics to the right for years.

However, few realize that Christmas Island has a more radical, internationalist history. It was the site of a militant trade-union struggle against a form of apartheid that segregated white and Asian workers until the 1980s. The victory of those who stood up to the Christmas Island Phosphate Company demonstrated the power of collective action to overcome racism and exploitation.

British Imperial Apartheid Settlement of the uninhabited island, named Christmas Island in 1643, only began after British surveyors discovered phosphate deposits in 1886. Britain annexed the island in 1888 and gave the Christmas Island Phosphate Company a ninety-nine-year lease on the territory. Phosphate mining began in 1899, using indentured labor from Singapore, the Malay Archipelago, and China.

In 1919, Britain transferred the management of mining on Christmas Island — as well as that of Nauru and Banaba, now part of Kiribati — to the British Phosphate Commissioners (BPC). The BPC comprised government representatives from Australia, New Zealand, and Britain. In 1949, the British government sold its mining rights to Australia and New Zealand. And in 1958, the UK transferred sovereignty over Christmas Island from Singapore to Australia. All the while, the BPC continued to manage the island using extraordinary powers. The BPC paid Asians a fifth of what white workers received and could summarily dismiss workers, who had no right to appeal.

The authorities deported fired workers within twenty-four hours, stamping their passports with NTR — “Never to Return.” They forbade Asian workers from owning land on Christmas Island or settling permanently. The BPC owned everything, including the local shop.

The island’s housing, transport, swimming pools, and education system were also highly segregated. White families lived in houses built to Australian standards while Asian families lived in small flats without hot water or air conditioning. Single Asian men lived in dormitories the size of bathrooms, without mattresses.

There were also two schools, one Asian and one European. The island’s European population were almost totally opposed to proposals to integrate the two schools.

Unsurprisingly, given this setup, one resident described Christmas Island as pretty much the last outpost of the British Raj. The BPC men were all there with their white shorts and long socks and they all played golf on Friday afternoons. The European people would put on shows at the Christmas Island Club, but by virtue of the fees, it was a European stronghold.

Striking Against the BPC The catalyst for change came in 1974, when workers struck to oppose the dismissal of Teo Boon How, the chief interpreter in the administrative office. The BPC had fired him on March 26, ordering him to leave Christmas Island within twenty-four hours. The next day, more than 1,100 workers refused to report to work, instead marching in protest.

The strike forced the acting administration to rescind Teo Boon How’s deportation order and later to reinstate him. This was not the first strike on Christmas Island. However, it signaled a shift. It was the first time the island’s Asian community exercised political power.

On March 21, 1975, fifteen Asian community leaders met secretly and formed the Union of Christmas Island Workers (UCIW). On Teo Boon How’s recommendation, they elected schoolteacher Michael Grimes as the UCIW’s first general secretary on a part-time basis, in part thanks to his experience organizing teachers’ unions. They also elected as president Lim Sai Meng, a worker with a Chinese background who had come to Christmas Island from Malaysia in 1973. Within a week of its formation, more than seven hundred workers had joined the new union.

Grimes had arrived in 1975, alongside some twenty other people from the Commonwealth Teaching Service. Their salaries outstripped those of local teachers, highlighting the extent to which the BPC underpaid Asian workers.

In 1978, Grimes resigned as UCIW secretary and was replaced by Gordon Bennett, an English migrant. Bennett’s more militant style of union organizing caught the attention of mainland Australian newspapers, highlighting the plight of Christmas Islanders.

The Chinese community nicknamed Bennett “Tai Ko Seng” (Big Brother Who Delivers). Under his leadership, the UCIW immediately called for a $30-a-week raise and minimum wage parity with the mainland within a year. The workers also demanded Australian citizenship rights for Christmas Islanders and called for the Australian government to take full administrative control of the island.

In 1979, the workers met at a cinema in Poon Saan, Christmas Island’s second-largest town. Almost the entire workforce of the island voted to take strike action in support of the UCIW’s demands, bringing phosphate production to a halt. The workers self-levied to raise a war chest of $70,000 for their campaign.

The BPC fought back against the industrial action. They stood down three hundred workers in May, following a strike by ship loaders. According to their industrial agreement, the BPC didn’t have the power to sack these workers. James Taylor, the deputy president of Australia’s arbitration commission, came to the island to mediate the dispute.

At the company’s request, Taylor inserted a stand-down clause into the ship loaders’ agreement, retrospectively legitimizing the BPC’s move. Unsurprisingly, this only fanned the flames of the strike.

The workers reacted swiftly. A mass meeting of 1,500 workers voted to prevent Taylor from leaving Christmas Island. Taylor was only allowed to leave some days later, after Australian Council of Trade Unions president Bob Hawke flew to Christmas Island and intervened on his behalf.

Next, the UCIW took its campaign to the mainland, where they made use of a series of creative tactics. They took the home affairs minister to court for underpayment and established a protest tent camp outside Parliament House in July 1979. Later that year, they waged a twelve-day hunger strike, garnering media attention.

Against all odds, the union won the pay raise it had demanded immediately. And its protest actions resulted in a public inquiry into the BPC. The inquiry recommended that Christmas Island be brought under the same administrative jurisdiction and industrial legislation as mainland Australia. A former BHP executive, Wilfred Sweetland, ran the inquiry and was scathing of the BPC, describing it as “colonial” and “repugnant.”

By 1981, the UCIW had won all its industrial demands including wage parity. The publicly owned Phosphate Mining Company of Christmas Island took over the phosphate industry. This finally put an end to the BPC’s rule. Following his victory in the 1984 election, Bob Hawke’s Labor government brought Christmas Island fully under Australian administration.

Ongoing Injustices Despite these victories, Christmas Islanders are still confronted by injustices. In 1987, the Australian government closed the phosphate mine. Although union workers purchased the mine and reopened it in 1990, other attempts at economic diversification have not borne fruit.

The Australian government blocked proposals to boost tourism by revitalizing the island’s resort and casino, previously legislating to prohibit casino operations. This means that Serco, the company that runs the notorious Christmas Island Detention Centre, is the island’s largest employer.

The battle against the legacy of colonialism is also not over. Christmas Island has many of the characteristics of a non-self-governing territory, as described by UN Charter Article 73. Yet Australian governments still treat it like a distant possession. Islanders do not enjoy basic democratic rights.

Australian citizens in Christmas Island can vote in federal elections, but they must do so as part of the Northern Territory, and have no say over the Western Australian state laws that apply to them. Just as Christmas Islanders did not get to vote over the transfer of sovereignty to Australia in 1958, the Australian government has not consulted with them or allowed them a say over the island’s governance since.

Following its historic victories in the early 1980s, the UCIW has maintained its key role in the life of the island. Gordon Thomson, a UCIW leader who also serves as the president of the Christmas Island Shire Council, summed it up well: the collective power of unionism yet remains the most important and only real means of resisting those who would destroy us and the gains we have made as a union since 1975. Indeed, the story of the UCIW’s victorious battle against the colonial apartheid regime in Christmas Island should be as well known in Australia as other historic struggles, like the Wave Hill walk-off or the green bans. Christmas Island’s history shows that militant, class-struggle trade unionism is a powerful weapon against colonialism and racism.

#malaysian diaspora #singaporean diaspora #christmas island #australia #labour and unions #1970s #union of christmas island workers

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

Text

Rising from the Ashes (12/?)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I’m sorry for the wonky formatting. I’m on vacation and can’t sleep and am doing this off of my phone. I thought it would be easier, but Tumblr can be dumb sometimes. I hope you enjoy regardless 💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64

-/-

“Killian, I’m really not sure if this is a good idea,” Emma whispers as they move forward in line, his fingers intertwined with hers as he tugs her forward to stand next to him so they don’t get lost in the crowd.

“Darling, I know you’re not big on the touristy activities, but we have to do it for Henry’s list.”

She tugs on his hand again, and he twists to the side to look down at her. He can’t see her eyes because of her sunglasses, the black frames covering the green, but he can see that her lips are pressed together in a firm line while her cheeks flush in a way that he knows has nothing to do with her blush.

“I mean the eye, babe. I don’t…I know it goes slowly, but I’m really worried that I’m going to throw up because of the movement.”

Oh.

He didn’t even think about that. He should have thought about it, but this is all still kind of new to him. It’s only been three days since they suspected Emma was pregnant, two since they’ve known officially, and they haven’t had much time to revel in it and celebrate with them constantly being around Liam, Belle, and Henry. It’s a bit ridiculous, really. Every time he gets Emma in a private corner simply to kiss her and tell her how goddamn happy he is that she’s in his life and is carrying their child, someone interrupts them.

Hiding Emma’s sickness is the most difficult thing, but trying to find some private time simply so they can talk is beginning to be even more difficult.

It’s likely a close tie.

He cannot believe he’s going to be a father.

Again.

He’s learning that it’s an odd disconnect, one that he’s struggling to understand, one that he really wants to talk to Emma about. Henry is his, undoubtedly. He loves that kid more than life itself. It hurts sometimes, physically aches, for him to think about his son and the light that he brings him after a life that has not necessarily been easy. He’s gotten to be a father to a little lad who he never thought would be such a major part in his life, and for someone whose greatest father figure was his brother and not his actual father, that’s not a responsibility he’s taken lightly.

He owes it to Emma and Henry, and even Liam and Neal, to be the man his father never was. Brennan was a fucked up man, but he helped shape Killian, whether he likes it or not.

But this is – this baby…she’s different. He’s got no clue if the baby is a boy or a girl, but he’s been calling her a girl in his head simply because it’s easier that way than dancing around pronouns and weird terms. She’s his little lady bug, and if she turns out to be a he, he’ll still be his bug. He doesn’t really have the words to describe how he’s feeling, and he likes to think of himself as a verbose man. It’s odd because he knows all of the science behind pregnancy and childbirth (Emma is a wonder woman), but he never could have imagined feeling how he feels. He didn’t always want children, his fear of being his father overwhelming him. It wasn’t something that he actively thought about, but then there was Milah and his love for her. They never got to that kind of future before things fell apart, but he realized that with the right partner, sometimes things shift and change.

And then he met Emma.

He met Emma, and even though they don’t have a traditional or straightforward relationship, she has changed absolutely everything in his life.

Now they’re having this child together, this child who he gets to be around from the beginning, and he doesn’t think he’s ever loved Emma more.

It’s not a second chance. No, that would be…wrong. It’s more like an old experience framed in a new light. There are similarities and differences, but everything is just as wonderful.

Except for Emma’s morning sickness, which seems to happen all day.

“If you don’t want to go, love, we can let Liam and Belle take Henry up there. They can tell him all about everything. They likely know it better than I do since it’s been so long since I’ve lived anywhere remotely near here.”

“Let’s,” she gulps, her cheeks puffing up for a moment, “ask Henry if he’d be okay for us to sit in the park while they go. I don’t think it’ll really mess with me since it’s not so much motion but…height. I’m not really sure. I just feel nauseous all the damn time.”

“It’s fine, Swan,” he tells her as he dips his head down and kisses her temple. “Liam,” he calls, reaching forward to grab his brother’s shoulder while Belle entertains Henry as he shows her the same toy ninja turtle that he’s been showing her for the entire trip.

“Yeah?”

“I think Emma and I are going to go sit down while you all ride, okay? She’s still not feeling well, and the height may make it worse.”

Liam’s brows furrow together, the lines on his face all concentrating in the center of his forehead, as his lips only slightly turn up into a sympathetic smile. “You okay, lass?”

“I’m fine,” Emma promises, even though he knows she’s lying. “You don’t mind taking Henry with you without us?”

“I don’t mind at all. I promise to point out everything that interests him. Henry,” Liam calls, and Henry stops talking to Belle as they both turn around to look at everyone, “your mum is still feeling a bit sick, so are you okay going on the ride with just me and Belle?”

Henry shrugs, holding up his ninja turtle doll. “Can I still take Leonardo?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m good. Bye Momma.”

“Well don’t I feel special,” Emma laughs as she squats down to kiss Henry’s cheek. “Be good, okay?”

“Okay. Can we get something to eat when we come back down? Being in the air makes me hungry.”

Well that’s a new one.

“Yeah, kid, we can.”

He guides Emma over to the Jubilee Gardens. It’s crowded as any tourist attraction will be, but he manages to find them a place to sit in the shade under a canopy of trees, the August sun not shining nearly as brightly. They don’t have a sweater or blanket to spread out like most of the other people here, so he lays down on his back, hands crossed under his head, and let’s Emma rest her head on his stomach as she looks back over at the London Eye as if she can see Henry go up in the carriages.

“Still feeling sick?” he asks her as he moves his hands from behind his head so that he can mess with her hair, running his fingers through the strands of her hair while she closes her eyes, lashes landing against her freckle covered cheeks.

She’s so beautiful.

“Yeah, this kid of yours is going to be a killer. I can tell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s great. Killian, this is a good thing. It’s what we wanted, and as much as I wish we could, we can’t change biology.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, working out a particularly nasty knot, “that’d be nice. I wish I could make it easier for you, especially since you’re having such a rough time right now. I mean, we can’t even tell anyone right now.”

“I’m kind of okay with that. It’s like our own little secret. It’s only us who know, and I don’t know – I like it. I like sharing something with you. I like not being bombarded with everything because you know the moment we tell everyone, they’ll never leave us alone. My mom, Marg David – ”

“Liam and Belle.”

“They’ll all go insane. Hell, even Ruby at work will be crazy.”

“Aye,” he laughs, beginning to twist her hair into a braid. “I imagine it’ll be quite the ordeal. Do you think Henry will take it well?”

“I don’t know. He’s been an only child for awhile, but he’s a good kid. I think he might be excited until he goes through the jealousy phase or whatever. We’ll have to make sure to look out for that.”

He hums in agreement and looks twists his head to the right to work out some of the kinks in his neck. There are people everywhere, conversations happening and laughter filling the air as much as the sounds of birds chirping, and he wonders how many of the people here are actually from London and how many are tourists. It doesn’t matter in the slightest, but it’s something he’s been noticing the past few days as his accent becomes heavier than it has been in years. He’s home, even if his home is both Brighton and Portland, and he finds a sense of comfort in all of this.

There’s a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looks to see two men arguing, their hands quickly moving around as they talk. They’re both in tailored suits similar to what he wears to work, but he can tell that one of the men is uncomfortable in it. There’s something oddly familiar about the man whose back is facing him, and when he turns to the side, Killian’s stomach drops at the similar profile. He looks just like Neal, but it’s not. It can’t be. Neal is dead, and this is simply another man who shares his profile. It’s not as if there aren’t a lot of dark-headed men out there.

“You okay, babe?” Emma asks, twisting her head on his stomach to look up at him. “You just went silent.”

“I’m fine,” he promises, flashing her a smile and shaking his head from the sense of deja vu that just happened. “I was simply thinking about you and our little bug. I can’t even express how unbelievably happy that I am.”

Emma’s lips tug up into a grin, her eyes radiating softness. “I can’t either. I – ” Her eyes go wide, and she has to cover her mouth. “Oh shit. I’ve got to vomit.”

-/-

“You really don’t have to take that long to wrap presents,” Liam laughs, sitting down on the window seat while Killian carefully folds the wrapping paper into small corners so that Emma’s new yoga pants are all wrapped up.

“I like things a certain way,” he protests, placing a piece of tape on the package. “Emma uses far too much tape when she wraps things, so unless the presents are for me, and sometimes not even then, I wrap our gifts.”

“It also makes it easy for you to know if Henry has unwrapped them, aye?”

He chuckles at that, twisting his head to look at his brother so that he can smile at him. He doesn’t have that many more presents to wrap today, but he does still need to put ribbons on them. “He usually shakes them, which is not a good thing when there’s something breakable.”

“He sounds like a kid.”

“That he is.” He reaches down and picks up a box from the floor, quickly opening it to see that it’s a few pairs of shoes for Ada that are far too big for her now. He rather likes the little sneakers with the lady bugs on them, but he doesn’t want to imagine her running around in them yet. She’s just about to start crawling. He can’t think about running. “Do you and Belle ever think about it anymore? I know it’s an awkward subject but – ”

“But we talk,” Liam finishes for him, getting up from the seat and walking toward the wrapped packages, stringing out the ribbon. “I’m fine with you asking me. It’s a bit of a sensitive subject for Belle because we tried for so long and nothing happened. It’s been…heartbreaking, but we’ve been looking into adopting, not as some kind of consolation. We just…we want to be parents.”

His heart breaks and soars all at once, the mixture of emotions like a tennis ball being hit back and forth over the clay covered courts of Roland Garros. He knows of all of the sorrow and emotions that Liam and Belle have been through in trying to have a kid. It was something his brother kept private until he confessed it one night when Killian was talking about the struggles he and Emma were having, and in a bit of a melancholy way, it’s bonded them more.

In truth, a hell of a lot of their bonding has occurred because of situations that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

“That’s bloody wonderful,” he sighs, a happy smile on his face as he watches Liam tie a ribbon around a package. “How is it going?”

“Well. We have a – there’s a young lad, Caleb. He’s about two, and Belle is absolutely besotted with him. I am too, but Belle is terrified to talk about it for fear of something falling through. We have a few more meetings about it in January.”

He stops wrapping the shoes and takes a step toward his brother, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding on as tightly as he possibly can. He only gets his brother here, in person, for two more days, and he wants to savor these moments. He wants to savor getting to have every person he loves in one place. He wants to savor celebrating and comforting his brother in the steps of life that he’s taking.

“I am so damn happy for you guys.”

“Thank you,” Liam murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down Killian’s back. “I am too. I want to be this boy’s father so badly. I want Belle to get to be the mum she deserves to be. I…want.”

He understands that completely. He understands every bit of it, every word. And when he pulls back, he can see all of the understanding in Liam’s eyes too, especially when he squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s not the same because of the age difference, but when it’s right for you guys, you could likely talk to Emma. She was adopted. She understands what it’s like to be the kid on the other side of it. Or you could talk to Ruth.”

“I could also talk to you.”

He quirks his brow and sits down on the bed, all of the presents shifting with him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Henry’s father, but you haven’t always been. You took him on when he was about Caleb’s age. You know what it’s like.”

“Henry is different,” he sighs, shaking his head back and forth while he tries to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. “It’s…I had Emma. Emma knew all of the ropes, had given Henry a fantastic life, and I came in when it was easier. What you’re doing is different.”

“In a way, but I think we’re both men who are trying to be fathers to kids who had their fathers taken from them. It doesn’t make us more honorable or better, but it is a different challenge.”

“Aye,” he agrees, looking up at Liam. He looks startlingly like their father, but he never has those dark memories when he looks at them. “Though we have bloody wonderful women who do everything much better than us.”

“Well, at least Emma with you, but that’s not too hard.” “Shut up, you wanker,” he chuckles, getting up from the bed. “Here we are having a nice moment and you have to ruin it.”

“What else are older brothers for?”

“A hell of a lot more than that.”

“Daddy,” Henry whines from outside the door, his little voice muffled because of the wood, “are you finished wrapping presents yet?”

“No, my boy,” he chuckles, waggling his brows across his forehead at Liam who has an absolute smirk on his face, “I’m not. What are you doing outside the door?”

“Waiting for presents.”

“You get to open them tomorrow.” “That is too long,” he groans, and Killian has to contain the belly laugh that is threatening to escape him. Henry can be patient but not when it comes to Santa getting to come and opening presents. It’s all far too exciting for him to contain himself.

He glances at Liam once more before walking toward the bedroom door and unlocking it, quickly opening the door as that Henry falls back with it, his arms barely stopping his head from hitting the ground. It wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but Henry’s laugh is worth it.

“Where is your mum?” he asks, lifting Henry up from the ground and practically dragging him away from the door. “Isn’t she supposed to be keeping you entertained?”

“She’s changing Ada’s diaper, and it smelled like fish.”

“Oi,” he grunts, using the muscles in his arms to throw Henry over his shoulder. He’s almost too big for this now. “It did not. You only say this because you don’t like fish.”

“I like the ones like Nemo. The others smell.”

“Mackerel doesn’t smell when I cook it.”

“Yes it does.”

“Liam,” he calls, swinging Henry around as he moves to the staircase, his brother coming into view from the bedroom, “do you like eating mackerel?”

“Every morning for breakfast so I don’t get scurvy.”

“Ewww,” Henry groans, squirming even though Killian now knows that Henry is seriously considering eating fish since Liam does it. “That’s gross.”

“It’s yummy.”

Henry continues to protest, and even though his bony limbs are hitting Killian, he carries him down the stairs and turns right into the kitchen where Emma and Belle are chatting while the gentle hum of Christmas carols play in the background. There are a few discarded ingredients for the breakfast they’re serving for everyone in the morning, a grilled cheese on the stove instead, and he makes the assumption that Emma must have gotten hungry now. Or that they’re waiting for he and Liam to come help cook.

“Hello, beautiful ladies,” he greets as he walks in with Henry. Emma rolls her eyes. Belle blushes. It’s all as usual. “I have found someone trying to sneak his way into looking at presents before tomorrow.”

Emma whistles low under her breath, the smallest of smirks forming at her lips. “Oh no, babe. Do you know what happens when people try to find out what their presents are early?”

“I do not,” he sing-songs, plopping Henry down on the floor next to Ada’s playmat.

“They have to eat fish for dinner.”

Henry squeals at the same time that he and Liam bark out nearly identical laughs, the room suddenly a loud mess of him, and he watches as Emma winks before turning back to the stove and moving her grilled cheese off of the pan. The cunning lass obviously heard their talk. She’s always been the greatest at thinking on her feet when it comes to Henry, whether it be trying to explain something in a way that he understands or simply doing something funny to make him laugh. Once she managed to explain not wasting water by comparing it to Henry’s baseball games, and he’s still never quite figured out that one. Or at least, how she made the comparison. But Henry doesn’t waste water now.

Bloody miracle worker, the woman.

“I promise I won’t look. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Belle laughs, reaching over the counter and taking Henry’s hand in hers. “Santa knows that you’re a good boy.”

“What’s all this screaming?” Neal questions as he walks in the room, his voice filled with laughter even though the jovial feeling in the air dies a little in his presence. It’s not his fault. He’s an outsider looking in no matter how comfortable they try to make him. It’ll get better for him when Liam and Belle go home, but he thinks that Neal’s been stepping back a bit to give them all some time this week. It’s nice, but he doesn’t have to step back. This is his family too.

“I have to eat fish if I look at my presents early.”

“I’d say don’t look at your presents early then,” Neal laughs, pulling out the barstool next to Henry and sitting down. “Ems, what time is your family coming over?”

“Tonight? At six.”

He watches as Emma cuts her grilled cheese into four slices, popping one in her mouth and sliding the plate to Henry, letting him eat the meal she very obviously was preparing for herself but is instead giving to Henry. While she’s chewing her food, she squats down and picks Ada up from her play mat, blowing a loud kiss into Ada’s cheek that causes Ada to scream out a giggle. He doesn’t know how he ever stepped back from her, from this. He remembers life before Emma, remembers how everything was, but he doesn’t really want to remember a world where he didn’t love her. Where she didn’t love him.

He doesn’t want to remember a world where she isn’t the center of his life.

Maybe it’s the joyous atmosphere in the room that’s making him think about all of this. Maybe it’s that Neal is now talking to Henry and making him laugh while Henry eats his good, Belle and Liam joining in on their conversation. Maybe it’s that everything finally feels right.

He’s not sure if he’s ever loved Emma more than he does right now. He’s thought it before, said it before, and he’s sure he’ll say it again.

Every time it is said, it’s meant.

He’s infinitely glad that they’re getting things right again, that they’re trying again. He doesn’t know what he would do without Emma.

“You look like you’re thinking,” Emma mumbles as she walks over to him, handing him Ada when she stretches her chubby hands toward him, her fingers already trying to mess with his ears.

“Always, love,” he winks, smiling down at her.

“About what, though?” Emma prods, her hand resting on the middle of his back while she makes faces at Ada, her cheeks puffing up as she inhales air.

“You.”

“Oh, your daddy is trying to be a charmer,” she whispers to their daughter, her eyes only glancing up to him for the briefest of moments.

“Who says I was thinking good things?”

Emma scoffs, like what he’s said is the most unbelievable thing in the world. It kind of is.

He adjusts Ada in his arms, wondering again how she can be this big now or if he’ll ever get used to her growing. He most likely won’t. “I’ll tell you later, love,” he promises, leaning down to kiss the apple of her cheek and whispers in her ear, “I’m afraid I’ll scar the lot of them if I tell you what I was thinking just now.”

Emma’s cheeks immediately flush red, and she shakes her head back and forth, gently slapping his back. He wasn’t thinking anything dirty, but she doesn’t have to know that. He’ll tell her everything later. maybe he’ll even throw in some dirty thoughts.

“Alright,” Emma starts, clapping her hands together, “who wants to make some cookies for Santa?”

-/-

“Now that we’re alone,” he mumbles before he drags his teeth across her collarbone, her skin tasting of the slightest bit of salt, and he hears the gentle thud of Emma’s head hitting their bedroom door. He’s not particularly interested in that when he can hear her whimpers as he bites down on her skin. Her hips arch into his, and she deliciously brushes against where he’s beginning to strain. The slight friction is pleasurable, but it’s not enough. So he steps closer, caging her in, their hips rolling against each other while Emma is fully pressed up into the door, his hands above her while hers explore his back under his shirt, likely leaving red lines on his back.

“Ah, fuck,” she moans when he licks a slow stripe up her neck, and he can feel just how much she loves it with the way her nails dig into his skin.

“Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth,” he mumbles, making sure that his lips cover every inch of her skin that he has access to.”

“I’ve always had a bit of a sailor’s mouth on me.”

“Technically, you do have a sailor’s mouth on you. Quite literally”

She laughs, something deep and throaty, but it’s cancelled out by her own moan again when he gets to the spot on her ear that she likes. Her hips keep moving against his, rolling and teasing, and he can feel the pleasure and the tension build inch by wonderful inch.

“You’re an evil woman,” he continues, moving his hands down from the door so that the slide down her arms, landing at her body so that he can move them up under her shirt, not at all caring for propriety or patience as he feels the heavy weight of her breasts in her hands. “We have had family with us all evening,” he pants, not sure how much longer he can hold back. “They’re here to celebrate Christmas with us, with our children, and you spend the entire night with your hand far too high on my thigh.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sighs innocently, and he would pull back to look at her with a raised brow, but he’s particularly interested in working his way back down her neck, making sure to rub his scruff into her.

“You do,” he says simply, his voice strained even to his own ears. “You’re a minx and a tease, and don’t think I didn’t notice the way you made sure to stand with your ass just in front of my view as we put out the presents.”

“I was trying to speed up the progression of the song about Mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

It’s a bad joke, but he can’t help but laugh at it before hungrily slanting his lips over Emma’s, capturing her mouth in his as their teeth clank together and their tongues battle, a harshness that is not always there with them present tonight. She nips at his bottom lip, hard, before soothing it, and it’s that which has him moving his hands from her breasts and up under her ass, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist so that he can carry her. She does, their cores pressed together, and he doesn’t break the kiss if only so Emma won’t say anything about him hurting his back. He’s not going to, not tonight.

He wants to take things slow tonight, to let them savor things, to let Emma know of his thoughts earlier of just how much he loves her, but Emma’s in a mood that has them shredding their clothes and him taking her from behind, his pleasure far outweighing hers until he reaches between them and finds the slick flesh where they’re joined. Emma’s gasp comes from the back of her throat, is similar to what must be pure sin, and he wants to hear it over and over again.

They’re hurried the first time, the need for each other too much, but when Emma wakes him in the middle of the night, he deliberately paces them slowly, holding onto Emma’s hips as she moves above him, only the sound of skin against skin and the occasional odd sound outside filling the room. The pleasure builds slowly, steadily, and this time he tells her just how much he loves her and how much she means to him. This time he tells her that his entire world has revolved around her, that it wouldn’t work without her, and he has to grit his teeth to hold back his release all the while wiping his thumb underneath her eye to push away the stray tears.

And for the few hours that they do actually get to sleep the night, their bodies are so tightly pressed together that he’s barely sure which limbs belong to him.

They wake when there’s a knock on their door, the beats fast and lacking enough rhythm for him to know that it’s Henry. He laughs into Emma’s neck before kissing down her bare back, enjoying this last little moment before the chaos of the day begins. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, the moonlight still filtering through the curtains, but Christmas has officially begun.

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers back, twisting her head and kissing the corner of his lips. “We have about thirty seconds before he breaks that door down.”

“Mom,” Henry groans from outside, his knocks quieting, “you have to come outside so we can see what Santa brought me.”

“Just a minute, kid,” she laughs as the two of them quickly get up out of bed. He doesn’t know about Emma, but the headache forming in his right temple is going to kill him if he doesn’t get a nap today.

They make quick work of dressing in pajamas, Emma deftly pulling her hair into a braid so that it looks less like he spent the night fucking her, and even though they both definitely need to brush their teeth and wash their faces, they get to the door and open it to Henry standing outside practically vibrating out of his skin.

“Hey, Merry Christmas,” Emma greets, dipping down and pulling Henry into a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Henry murmurs, pushing Emma back and practically running toward the staircase.

“Henry,” he calls out, and the kid comes to a complete stop, nearly slipping in his socks. “Have you noticed that anyone is missing?”

“Ada?” he shrugs, yanking at his shirt sleeve.

“What about your dad?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Why don’t you go wake him up?” Emma says calmly while tightening the string on her pants. “Gently. We don’t jump on his bed, okay?”

“I know. Don’t go downstairs without me.”

“Scout’s honor.” He reaches up to salute Henry as he runs off before turning to look at Emma who is still working on adjusting her pants, messing with the drawstring. For awhile he was worried about how slim she was getting with the stress of giving birth and Neal, and despite her still being a bit smaller than usual, she’s getting back to how she usually is. Her being less stressed is definitely helping. “Do you want to get the other kid or shall I?”

“Will you get her? I’ve got to pee.”

“Sure, love.”

Ada is already awake when he walks into the nursery, so he quickly picks her up, kissing her cheek before stepping over to the changing table and changing her diaper before snapping back her onesie. It makes her look like a reindeer, and he’ll never quite understand where Ruth finds these outfits. And he is sure that it’s Ruth that bought it. It practically has her name written all over it.

“It’s Christmas, my little love,” he coos to her, tapping his fingers on her cheek. She’s going to need to be fed soon, but he hopes that she makes it through opening a few presents so Emma doesn’t have to miss that with Henry. “I think Santa came to visit you and your brother.”

“Come on, Dad,” he hears Henry plead, and when he walks out into the hallway, he sees Henry tugging Neal down the hallway.

“What time is it, kid?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The chuckle that passes through his lips can’t be stopped, and he flashes Neal a bit of a sympathetic smile. They warned him about this last night, but it doesn’t really hit until you’ve gotten no sleep and have to be enthusiastic for an eight-year-old.

“Morning,” Neal mumbles, flashing him a sleepy smile. “Do you think Santa left coffee under the tree?”

“God I hope so.”

Santa didn’t, but he did leave Henry several movies and toys, the house now full of a spike ball set and several scientific kits that he’s sure will make a mess. He doesn’t know why he bought those now that he thinks about it. They should have found things less messy. But it’s a riot watching Henry tear through the few gifts, especially when he gets to some of the art kits and storybooks that Neal bought him. He’s so excited about them that he practically smothers his father in a hug, jumping up on him and telling him all about the pictures he’s going to draw and stories he’s going to write with them. The smile on Neal’s face is one of a proud dad, and something settles in Killian’s heart then while he sits on the floor next to Emma with the two of them letting Ada rip at wrapping paper and chew on some of the little toys she’s collected herself.

His son has an extra person to love him, truly love him, and even though Neal is not his favorite person in the world anymore, he could be for how he loves Henry.

“What’s this?” Henry asks, holding up a small piece of paper. “Why does it say to go outside?”

“Maybe there’s a present out there that we can’t bring inside?”

“Like a car?”

“No,” Emma laughs, rising from the ground, holding out her hand for him as he brings Ada up with him, “not a car, but maybe something with wheels.”

Henry’s already squealing by the time they get outside, his new bike on proud display with a giant bow on it, and the lad is going on and on about having to shovel the snow so that he can ride it. it’s an ambitious plan, one that’s not going to work, but they’re not going to bring down his high this morning. He can have this.

Liam and Belle show up at the front door around nine, and all of the Nolans come in just behind them, Leo immediately running toward Henry so they can talk about their haul this morning. He and Emma make a conscious effort not to give Henry too much and to make sure that he understands everyone isn’t as fortunate as him, and while Killian thinks that Henry gets that, he does get excited to talk about his things with his cousin.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Ruth sighs, hugging him with her small frame.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispers as he kisses her cheek. “Are you ready for your grandchildren to wreak chaos on you?”

“This is every grandmother’s dream, don’t you know that?”

“I thought every grandmother’s dream was to make me gain ten pounds so that I don’t fit in my suits anymore,” David laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Just because I make the food doesn’t mean you have to eat it, David.” “Mom, you know that it does. Emma,” David calls, looking over to Emma who’s just handed Ada off to Mary Margaret, “if Mom cooks, can we simply not eat the food?”

“We have to eat the food. Mostly because it’s good but really because Mom passive aggressively tortures us if we don’t eat all of her collards.”

“I do not.”

“You do, Ruth,” Mary Margaret starts. “One time I didn’t finish a panini you made me, and I swear you glared at me for weeks.”

“This is why I always finished everything you cooked me,” Neal says as he sips on his coffee.

“I cooked for you one time.”

“Yeah, don’t be a suck up, Cassidy,” Emma teases, winking over at him. “And I distinctly remember you complaining about the carrots when you never complain about anything.”

“Just throw me under the bus, why don’t you?”

“I try.”

“Belle, darling,” Liam laughs as Killian moves to start setting up breakfast for everyone, laying a sausage casserole onto the island, “are you terrified of eating anything Ruth has made now?”

“I’m shaking in my actual boots.”

“All I do is love all of you kids, and this is what I get in return,” Ruth huffs, sitting down on a barstool.

“I love you,” he tells her, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles, laying the charm on as thick as he can.

“Look who’s a suck up now,” Emma announces, opening the oven to check on the biscuits. It’s a pity he missed out on those for the first twelve years of his life. “It’s almost like you’re trying to impress her so that you can date her daughter.”

“Well, I hate to break it to the sweet Miss Nolan, but I did already knock her daughter up.”

“You’re pregnant,” Mary Margaret squeals, and his stomach does some kind of unnatural twist.

“Uh, n-no,” Emma stutters, holding her hands up while he can tell that she’s trying to find her words and regulate her breathing, her chest moving up and down the slightest bit. “I’m definitely not pregnant.”

“Oh, but Killian said – ”

“It was a poor choice of words, love,” he promises, not sure where to look. He doesn’t want to look at Liam and Belle, knowing this must be an awkward situation for them that can’t be pleasant and not wanting to look at Neal either since Killian is technically talking about sleeping with the man’s ex-wife. Emma’s not a great option either, especially since she’s going to murder him later, so he settles on Ruth who is looking at him with her lips pressed together as she shakes her head from side to side. “Emma is not pregnant. The only baby I was referring to is Ada.”

“So you can calm down, hon,” David says to Mary Margaret, squeezing her shoulder and kissing the top of her head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Marg,” Emma assures her, flashing her a tight smile and bopping Ada on the nose.

“It would have been some way to announce it, though,” Belle laughs, her features relaxed, “since you have actual buns in the oven.”

“Mom,” Leo yells from the living room, and practically everyone turns to look at him, “when are we going to eat?”

“After you wash your hands.”

“I already did.”

“You haven’t left that room.”

Leo huffs, dropping the ball he was holding, before he turns to Henry and very loudly whispers, “we don’t actually have to wash our hands. If we turn the water on, they think we do.”

“So no one touch anything that Leo touches,” David announces, and even though it’s a bit funny, he makes a note to make sure to check that Henry is washing his hands.

Even though he tries to catalog the entire morning, it goes by much quicker than he could possibly imagine as everyone spreads throughout the living room to eat far more than necessary, the sounds of the Polar Express on in the background to keep Leo and Henry entertained since they can’t open the presents Ruth brought them quite yet. But they do eventually get to open them, and of course, once everything starts to calm down, the chatter not quite as insistent, Ada has a meltdown. Her little face turns as red as a tomato, and she wails and wails with nothing soothing her but having him walk her back and forth down the upstairs hallway away from everyone else.

By the time it’s two in the afternoon, all of the Nolans have left, and Neal has gone to take a nap, grumbling about not being used to this early thing on his days off. Killian gets it, which is exactly why after having gotten Ada to sleep in her crib, he wanders downstairs and stretches out on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table while Emma leans into his side.

“I’m tired,” she laments, nuzzling her head a little further into his chest.

“Well, you are with child,” Liam jokes from his spot on the loveseat.

“I hate you.”

“You love me, birdie.”

“Possibly. I definitely love Belle, though.”

“Damn right,” Belle agrees, sitting up and crossing her legs underneath her.

“Darling,” he starts, resting his cheek against her temple while his fingers tap against the back of the couch, “don’t hurt Liam’s feelings. He doesn’t have many friends, so he really needs you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hey, language. Where’s Henry?”

“In his room, babe,” Emma laughs, patting his stomach, “so Belle and Liam can curse as much as they want to.”

“The walls are not that thick.”

“I would bloody hope that they are. Otherwise your children would be subjected to some noises that Killian makes that are not so pleasant.”

If he wasn’t too tired to move and didn’t have Emma resting on top of him, he’d…who is he kidding? He’s not going to get up and punch his brother or toss throw pillows at him for making a cheap joke about how Killian sounds during sex.

“You have the maturity of a fifteen-year-old.”

Liam shrugs. “It keeps me young.”

“If the wrinkles on your face are any indication, you need it.”

“Oh my gosh,” Emma laughs, slapping his stomach again. he grabs her hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing each knuckle before placing it on his chest with his hand resting over hers. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And yet the two of you chose to be with us.”

He watches Belle pat Liam on his cheek, a smirk painted on her face. “We married far below our level.”

#rising from the ashes #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff

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plummem-blog · 6 years ago

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herr der ringe neuseeland (7)

Lord of the Rings New Zealand Locations in New Zealand The creators around Peter Jackson found the perfect location for the film with the creepy Putangirua Pinnacles in the Wairarapa region of New Zealand. This beautiful rock formation at Cape Palliser is too remote from the other Lord of the Rings locations to be part of the half day and full day trips. For example, those for Mt Victoria, the most magnificent viewing mountain in the capital Wellington. Scenes of the Hobbits fleeing from the Nazgul were filmed there, and how they huddle under the mighty root of a huge tree. "There are several parking spaces along the road, choose the one on the left 1.2 kilometres from the junction with Alexandra Road, in a wide right turn. The path to the left of the road and to your right falls steeply downhill through a forest, and if you turn right once more, you'll recognize the view immediately," writes Brodie in his bestseller.

Where is Gondor?

Originally, Gollum was a Hobbit named Smeagol from the Starry Tribe and grew up in a Hobbit village in the Sword Fields area of Wilderland. SmÃ©agol was not a very lovable character even before that, and the ring made him completely unbearable.

By using this website, you agree to the terms of use and privacy policy. The hobbits Merry and Pippin, especially in the Shire scenes, are more strongly portrayed as troublemakers and good-for-nothings than was the case with Tolkien. Jackson explained in his commentary on the DVD that he used the characters to add more comedy to the story.

Queenstown: THE Lord of the Rings Location

His friends Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took join him one after the other.

In addition, there is a fight with some orcs and a cave troll.

On the tour you get a delicious picnic and a free photo CD with breathtaking pictures.

Peter Jackson was able to inspire some well-known Der-Herr-der-Ringe experts to join the project.

But Bakshi showed the film bosses at United Artists and producer Saul Zaentz (A FLOG ABOUT THE KUCKUCKSNEST).

It is especially known for its unique and partly untouched nature - from wild coasts to crystal clear lakes and active volcanoes as well as sandy beaches the country has everything to offer. Kawarau Gorge was one of the filming locations of Lord of the RingsIf you think of the Anduin in the movies, you probably think of the imposing Argonath, the Pillars of Kings. This scene was shot in Kawarau Gorge, better known as the centre for extreme sports. Bungee jumping was invented at the Kawarau Gorge Suspension Bridge.

After-effects[Edit

Read more about campervan hire New Zealand here. On the Arrow River it races up and down the bank and to top it all off it performs pirouettes in the middle of the river to demonstrate the extraordinary qualities of the Land Rover. For relaxation, there is coffee, tea, cocoa, cake and an introduction to the art of gold digging. After all, we are also at the center of the gold rush that attracted thousands of adventurers to Central Otago in the mid-19th century.

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douxreviews · 7 years ago

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The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012) Review

Gandalf: "You'll have a tale or two to tell when you come back." Bilbo: "You can promise that I will come back?" Gandalf: "...No. And if you do, you will not be the same."

I've tried to read the books, but I was always so bored by them that I couldn't get through more than a couple hundred pages. So when the first Lord of the Rings movie came out a decade ago, I was sure I was going to be underwhelmed. I was wrong. I loved the first trilogy, even going so far as to buy both versions of the films on DVD. I've followed the development of this adaptation since it was first announced, and I managed to keep my excitement in check with the fact that this is basically a prequel. The track record for prequels haven't been exactly great, and the early buzz for this movie wasn't that good either. Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I loved this movie, even if it might be a bit of an embarrassment of riches.

Visually, this movie is without a doubt a part of the same world created by the first trilogy. This is due to the extreme level of care and attention paid to the details. In a way, it feels a bit like returning home. The shire is just as brilliantly green, Rivendell is just as surreal and majestic, and the vistas are still absolutely beautiful. The monster makeup is excellent, the visual effects were stunning, and the score was as moving as ever. I loved the humor, and the simple loving care placed in every little crevice of the elaborate sets. I got chills when certain musical cues reminded me of moments from the first trilogy. The acting was all great, the story was decently paced for such a long movie, and the characters were all unexpectedly fun. There were also some absolutely magical moments in this film, especially the riddle game with Gollum.

So why wasn't I completely blown away by it all? It had all the pieces of a masterpiece, much like the first three movies. I guess it comes down to the fact that there seemed to be a bit too much going on, for what is essentially a simple adventure tale of a king trying to reclaim his lost kingdom. Don't get me wrong, it is an exciting story, and is most definitely worthy of being told in such a grand fashion. I'm just wondering if maybe in the attempt to capitalize on the success of the first trilogy, they might have shoved a bit too much detail into something that should've been relatively simple. Still, I can't be too upset at having too much of a good thing, and I'm not, really. Maybe there isn't anything wrong with this movie, and it'll improve on repeated viewings. I do know that it didn't fail my expectations at all. Perhaps it may have exceeded what I was envisioning by too much, and that is hardly a condemnation.

As for the controversy surrounding the technical aspects of this film, I saw it in the standard format of 24 frames per second, without 3D, and it looked exactly like the first trilogy. There was a richness of texture in the backgrounds that didn't look any more fake than really good CGI. There were some sweeping shots that had some noticeable choppiness, specifically in the opening battle sequences. I blame that on Peter Jackson because he was obsessed with filming this movie in 48 frames per second, and I don't think he thought much about how certain shots would look in the lower frame rate. However, I cannot comment on the differences between the two formats until I see it in the new high frame rate.

Overall, the film might have benefited from a shorter run time, but it wasn't a travesty of idiocy like the first Star Wars prequel. It was a beautifully shot, well executed movie with a few too many extraneous scenes. Still, it didn't fall apart under the weight of that complexity, and managed to pull off some truly epic and magical moments. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I'm looking forward to the next year already.

3 1/2 out of 4 Dwarves throwing dishes around with a gleeful disregard of their hobbit host's protests.

J.D. Balthazar is a confirmed nerd who loves most things sci-fi or fantasy-related.

#The Hobbit #The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey #Lord of the Rings #Bilbo Baggins #Gandalf #Gollum #J.R.R. Tolkien #Peter Jackson #Doux Reviews #Movie Reviews #something from the archive

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wow-rp-locations · 2 years ago

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Old but Gold(shire)

As Goldshire is quite infamous for its population of roleplayers, especially the ERP-ers, this title may be a little concerning. Rest assured that we will not be covering roleplaying hubs like cities and villages with a lot of RP activity now or in the near future, so Goldshire is off the table for now. However, it would be a shame to leave out the lovely hut just outside it, even if the Goldshire crowd occasionally makes its way over there.

This cozy lakeside house in the middle of Elwynn Forest is surrounded by beautiful woodland. It has plenty of space for family roleplay, plenty of bed space for your soon-to-be-family roleplay, and a lovely fireplace with a second opening on the second floor (however they made that work) to keep all bedrooms nice and warm.

Inside the building, you can find two ladies, Helene Peltskinner, a trainer for skinning, and Adele Fielder, a leatherworking trainer. While they do not seem to enjoy the fact they have practically been replaced by Goldshier's trainer for all professions, they still live their peaceful lives with a smile on their faces. The many chairs provided in the open space of the main room make for a good location to go to when holding a meeting with a small group (and the lone chair by the wooden pillar may be used as a time-out chair for misbehaving group members). Apart from bookshelves, barrels, bottles and pots, there are also a few toys scattered around, clothes are stored away and pretty flower wreaths decorate the walls.

Upstairs we have a table full of books (all but two chairs must have been brought downstairs) and two smaller tables with even more books and a few pots on them. We also have two big bookshelves, filled to the brim with literature of all kinds. The green carpet in the middle adds some comfort to the area, though it would benefit from taking some of the chairs from downstairs and placing them around the middle table.

Now we get to what we can assume has been the most sought-after bedroom at some point in history. The big bed provides enough space for a nice sleepover while not seeming too huge when lying in it alone (though guests seem to prefer taking someone with them when coming here). With three closets there is enough space for all your armor sets, the fireplace and the candle provide a cozy romantic ambiance and in case your company turned out to be quite boring after all, there are books on one bedside table, while the other is filled with a drink to drown your sorrows and a metal bowl to chase them out of the house with.

Looking out through the door is quite the treat when staying in this hut. You get quite a nice view of Crystal Lake and the forest behind it. Any serious fisherman will be delighted to see a small pier extending out into the lake, even if it's rather short. Any amateur fisherman will be delighted to see Lee Brown, the local fishing trainer, standing on that pier. To keep him some company, he brought along Jason Mathers, a rather serious-looking fella, and young Matt who already loves to fish, even though he mostly catches old tangled nets and some underwater plants that get caught on his hook.

Lastly, we do have to mention some strange ongoings, as we pride ourselves on being truthful in our reports. Some people have reported hearing a scary voice in the upstairs bedroom when it gets very quiet. Another strange situation occurred with a group of young children. they don't seem to play, instead, they stand around in a strange formation beside the house. These children then walk away, only to return later and stand inside the house. That is all they do and I am a little frightened by them.

This has been the World Of Warcraft Tourist Guide and I wish you a fun RP experience

#wow #wow rp #world of warcraft #world of warcraft rp #roleplay #warcraft rp #fantasy #blizzard

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mortraveling · 2 years ago

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The Lord of the Rings ultimate New Zealand road trip guide

The Lord of the Rings ultimate New Zealand road trip guide If you’re anything like me, then you’re a serious fan of the Lord of the Rings series of books and movies. For many fans, a trip to New Zealand to check out some of the most famous filming locations is a bucket list adventure. If you’re interested in exploring other famous movie road trip ideas, check out this awesome blog post on the best road trips from TV and film. If you’re interested in seeing Middle Earth and where the perfect backdrop for these movies was, keep reading on! 1. Matamata: Here you’ll find the original Hobbiton, where you can take a tour that’s jam-packed with great information and ample photo opportunities. This secluded part of New Zealand was chosen for the Shire region because of the beautiful landscape that perfectly coincided with the descriptions in the original book. This is an absolute must-visit location for any Lord of the Rings fan. 2. Wellington: Head to Wellington for a few reasons if you’re a Lord of the Ring fan. One of the main reasons people visit is to see Mount Wellington, which served as the backdrop for Hobbiton woods during all of the films. But this isn’t the only attraction to see in Wellington, there’s also Weta Studios which was involved with many aspects of the LOTR films, especially costume design. If you have time, it’s worth taking a tour to learn more. 3. Mount Sunday, Canterbury: This is the location of the Edoras, which is the city of the Rohan people. These striking natural formations are worth a visit on their own even for a non-LOTR fan, but for those of you familiar with the movies this will be a real treat. 4. Mackenzie Country, Canterbury: This is famous due to the compelling battle of the Pelennor Fields in the Return of the King. You can opt to do a specific LOTR tour here to see the best of the region and the different filming locations. 5. Mount Earnslaw, Mount Aspiring National Park Nestled in New Zealand’s third largest national park, there are shots filmed here that feature in the opening sequences of The Two Towers. This is a must-visit location for any of you who plan to travel down toward Queenstown. Hitting these top 5 locations will ensure that you see many of Lord of the Ring’s most famous landscapes around New Zealand. via Blogger https://ift.tt/5zAs2vQ March 14, 2023 at 01:20PM

#IFTTT #Blogger

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180abroad · 7 years ago

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Day 140 - Isle of Skye (For One)

Today we enjoyed our last Rabbie's tour of the trip--a 12-hour excursion to the Isle of Skye and back. After an early breakfast of coffee and cereal, we headed down to the meeting point in town. Jessica still wasn't feeling well, but she was determined to make it.

Sadly, she didn't make it far.

As we rode along the gently winding freeway along the side of Loch Ness, it soon became clear that things weren’t going to go very well. In addition to its other lovely gifts, Jessica's cold seemed to have lowered her threshold for car sickness to a dangerous level.

After making the bus pull over for fresh air half-way down to Urquhart Castle–then barely making it to the castle from there–we both knew that it was a losing battle. There were still eleven and a half hours to go, and it was only going to get rougher from there on in. So, as much as we hated to do so, we asked our guide Emily to arrange a taxi to take Jessica home. Having been assured by Jessica that she would be fine, I stayed on the bus with the promise to take all the pictures I could.

12 hours and 1,306 pictures later, I think I kept my promise.

While Jessica waited for her very expensive taxi to drive all the way out from Inverness and take her back into town on a Sunday morning, I rode on through an increasingly twisting and ruggedly beautiful stretch of the Highlands. And after an hour or so, we stopped at Eilean Donan Castle.

Sitting at the nexus of three lochs near the western coast of Scotland, Eilean Donan is one of the most stunningly picturesque castles I saw during the entire trip. And the views from the castle were just as amazing as the views of the castle.

As I learned inside the castle, however, the building that stands today is a modern recreation. The original castle was blown up by the British in 1719 during the Jacobite uprisings. 200 years later, a descendant of the Jacobite owners reclaimed the ruins and poured his fortune into rebuilding it as it was.

The results are stunning and well worth a visit. But mostly just for the views.

After spending most of our allotted hour taking pictures outside the castle, I decided I should make the most of my 10-pound ticket and actually go inside. In retrospect, that might have been a mistake. The interior of the castle is a cramped shrine to the owner's family history. There's a display case dedicated to the Bonnie Prince, including a lock of his hair and a letter penned in his hand.

It was so crowded inside that we had to use the stairs in shifts. Once I got upstairs, there was a ten-minute wait before I was allowed to go back down.

As we were leaving, we saw a crazy German camping tour truck in the parking lot.

As we drove onward, Emily dispelled some common myths about Highland culture. The first was the idea of clan tartans. In Edinburgh, we saw shops filled with tartan patterns associated with one clan or another. It's a popular souvenir for Americans with Scottish heritage to come and buy a scarf or cap printed with their supposed family pattern. But this is another artifact of Victorian romanticism.

When Queen Victoria was touring the Highlands, she noticed that when she stayed with a family, their family portraits would all feature similar tartan patterns. Coming from a perspective of English royalty, she assumed that the patterns were the Highland equivalent of family colors or coats of arms. In reality, they were just the patterns and colors that the local seamstresses were familiar with. If anything, tartan patterns were simply indicators of who made the fabric, not of who wore it.

Emily also talked about the Scottish clan system and how American tourists tend to misunderstand the significance of clan names. Clans were political units, not family units, and clan names were not family names. Some clans were named after their chiefs, but many were named for legendary or historical warriors with no actual relation to the clan.

Having the last name MacDonald doesn’t necessarily mean you are descended from the MacDonald clan. It probably just means that you are descended from some guy whose father’s name was Donald. And even if you can trace your genealogy back to the Clan MacDonald, which one? There were tons of rival clans that went by the same name.

Finally, we crossed the bridge onto the Isle of Skye. The bridge is fairly new. Before it opened in 1995, people had to take a ferry from the mainland. According to Emily, the bridge was a controversial project. Being able to drive on and off the island at will was a boon to the economy, and tourism on the island has exploded. But at the same time, Skye has lost some of the mystique and cultural insulation that it had previously enjoyed.

Our first stop was at the Cuillin Mountains, which dominate the southern end of Skye. The range is divided into the Red Cuillins and the Black Cuillins. The Red Cuillins are rounded and grassy–perfect for grazing. The Black Cuillins are steep and craggy–perfect for climbing. Legend says that they were formed when two giants fought for days on end to determine which was stronger.

It looked like the Shire and Mount Doom had been smooshed together into a single frame.

Our next stop was Portree, the largest village on Skye. The name is a corruption of Port Righ, a Gaelic name meaning King's Port. According to legend, it was named after King James V visited the island in 1540. The two main clans of Skye--the MacDonalds and the MacLeods--were in the grip of brutal feud. The savagery got so out of hand that it was becoming a national embarrassment, reinforcing the negative stereotype of the savage Scots throughout Europe.

Determined to reestablish order in the outskirts of his realm, James sailed over Skye to tell the clan leaders in person to knock it off. He chose to land his fleet at a neutral fishing village in the middle of the island, and that village was thereafter known as the King's Port.

Trying to save a bit of time and money, I picked up a sandwich from a nearby Co-Op. I wandered up the hill to find a place to sit with a view, but there was no seating to be found. I eventually turned back and wandered down to the pier, where I finally found a bench perched precariously close to the edge.

After lunch, I headed up another hill to see the so-called Apothecary's Tower. Emily had recommended it to us for having great views and being virtually deserted no matter how many tourist buses were in town.

On my way up, I got sidetracked and ended up following a long trail around the side of the hill. The views were spectacular, though, so I didn’t bother to turn around.

And I did make it to the tower in the end.

Just like Emily said, the place was deserted and offered a great view of the city. It was built in the 1800s and served briefly as a medical dispensary for local sailors, hence the name Apothecary's Tower.

I also spotted a wild raspberry bush.

Back in town, I had just enough time to peek into a few craft shops and pick up a souvenir for Jessica--a tiny handmade glass puffin.

Back in the bus, we continued northward along some amazingly blue water toward the Storr, a jagged hill with spiky stone formations sticking out at otherworldly angles. One spike in particular stands out, on its own about halfway down the slope. It's known as the Old Man of Storr, and from a distance, it looks like the silhouette of a stooped man walking down a gentle slope.

One legend says that long ago, an amorous young couple was wandering the hillsides north of Portree. Among the crags and crannies of the Storr, they stumbled across a gathering of fairies. Fairies do not like being disturbed, and the couple ran away as fast as they could. The woman made it to safety, but the man was caught by fairy magic and turned to stone--cursed to spend the rest of time as a morality tale against sneaking off at night.

Emily praised the remarkably clear day, and as we pressed further north we could see the distant isles of Raasay and Rona and the Scottish mainland beyond.

Our next stop was Kilt Rock, a long coastal cliff made of columnar basalt that resembles the pleats of a kilt. The views are spectacular, and there is ample parking for the hordes of tourists competing to see them.

Our last big stop of the day was a mountainous region of northern Skye called the Quiraing. It goes on for miles, but there's one view in particular that seems purpose-built to make a spectacular photo.

We had about twenty minutes to wander around, and I must admit that this was a stop where I was one of those annoying people who lose track of time and hold everyone up an extra few minutes. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Skye is one of the most dramatic and beautiful places I saw on our trip, but it felt more like a chain of tourist-filled photo ops than a living place. That's probably an unfair assessment given the whistle-stop format of the tour, and I'm still entirely glad that I went. I'd happily return and spend a week hiking around all these gorgeous places that I was only able to glimpse. But more than anything else, it made me nostalgic for our time on Islay, which I hope is never tied to the mainland by a bridge.

Leaving the Quiraing, we circled around the northern reaches of Skye. The landscape was wide, wild, and full of sheep--some of which made us stop and wait for them to cross the road.

The rest of the trip was a quiet, slightly sleepy ride home, with comfort stops in the northwestern port town of Uig--where you can catch ferries to the remote Outer Hebrides--and the southeastern former ferry town of Kyleakin.

As we approached Inverness, we found the gloomy rain we'd managed to outrun in Skye.

Along the way, Emily told us one last story. It was about how the landscape of the Highlands has changed over the centuries and how Highlanders see their home quite differently than tourists. To us, the Highlands seem romantically desolate–empty windswept hillsides where the forces of nature still hold strong. But that isn't really true.

For one, these areas used to be much more populated. Today, Skye has about ten thousand people on it, but it once had five times that number. And instead of being concentrated in a few towns, those people were spread evenly across the entire island. Four hundred years ago, you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere in Scotland where there wasn’t a farmhouse or two nearby.

The lands were more-or-less free for the people to use as they needed–as long as they made enough to pay their rents. The clan chiefs would collect rents from anyone who lived on their lands, and they would have unquestioned authority to set rules and settle disputes on their land. In exchange, the common folk could focus all their energy on pulling what little sustenance they could from the unyielding land so that they could survive the next winter. Which was hardly a sure thing.

It was a good system for a harsh landscape where raiding and pillaging were the rule rather than the exception.

But that all changed after the Battle of Culloden. The clan system was abolished, and the Highlands were finally folded into the British legal and political system.

In exchange for their lordly authority, the clan chiefs were converted into landlords. That meant that instead of just overseeing their territories, they actually owned them. Which meant that they could do whatever they wanted with it. And what they wanted to do was make money.

They drove their former clansmen off their lands to make room for more profitable English sheep farmers. Without land to feed themselves from, the peasants had no choice but to move into towns, doing harder work for less pay in the budding industrial factories--which the clan chiefs also owned. Some left to seek their fortune in North America instead, but a law from Parliament banning emigration put a stop to that.

It was only after an economic downturn--when factories shut down and tens of thousands of Highlanders were on the brink of starving to death–that the former chiefs finally relented and allowed their captive laborers to be shipped off to Canada and Australia, where they could start new lives in a new land.

And now the Highlands consist of one small city, a few small towns and villages, and miles upon miles of empty space between them.

The second difference between Scotland today and the Scotland of yore is the forests. Two thousand years ago, virtually all of Scotland was covered in dense forests. Over the centuries, the forests were cut down for lumber and to make room for farms and cattle. By the start of the modern era, the proportion of forested to non-forested land had been reversed.

When the Highlands were cleared and the peasants corralled into towns, the land might have started reverting to its original wooded state--if not for the vast herds of commercial sheep and wild deer that continuously strip the land of any budding foliage.

Actually, there are some forests dotting the Highlands. You can spot them pretty easily. They're always near the highways, stand in suspiciously square patches. They're all tree farms filled with non-native species and destined for chopping.

As beautiful and dramatic as the Highlands of today are, they are also a sad reminder to every true Highlander of just how far and how fundamentally they have been cut off from their traditional ways of life.

Back in rainy Inverness, I picked up a feel-better pizza for Jessica, and we watched another episode or two of Outlander before going to sleep.

Next Post: Resting Up (Markets, Museums, and More Pizza)

Last Post: Inverness and the Highlands

#180abroad #inverness #highlands #skye #isle of skye #travel #history #landscapes #scenery #you can never go home again

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linguisticparadox · 7 years ago

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@bronweathanharthad I'm answering this as a new post because tumblr's ask-answering format is shit on mobile

So for Sam (presumably Gamgee :3):

Headcanon A: realistic

Sam is autistic, or at least has some form of learning disability. He's once described as having a "slow but shrewd mind." And he's canonically clumsy, and super into Elves. Like. Come on.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Man how can I improve on actual canon? Sam is the most wholesomely funny character I've ever seen in my life.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Ok I know we all love the Gaffer and we love that Sam loves the Gaffer but...I mean I wouldn't go so far as to say he's abusive...but he really seems to have fucked up Sam's sense of self-worth with all the "nowt but a ninnyhammer" talk. I guess it came from a place of "tough love", like the Gaffer was like "Okay Sam you are not exactly bright and you were born into the working class so I need to make sure you do okay in life and that means getting in good with the Bagginses."

Which is probably a big part of what made Sam so fiercely protective and lbr fiercely servile towards Frodo. The movies glossed over the latter and that I think has affected the wider fanon interpretations (possibly for the better tbh), but in the book we have stuff like Sam begging to wait on Frodo at the feast in Rivendell. But also, Tolkien said in one letter that Sam was "deep-down very conceited" but this was transformed by his love for Frodo.

So it's like...I think the Gaffer got it ingrained in Sam that "all you're good for is to serve your betters" so Sam was like "fuck yeah I'm gonna serve the SHIT out of Mr. Frodo, I'm gonna be the best servant EVER" but then fortunately Frodo (like Bilbo before him) was a genuinely good person (remember when Sam fell asleep on watch I think and Frodo told him not to think of any of his Gaffer's hard names?) and so it became less "I'm gonna be the best servant because I'm awesome and so my dad will be proud of me" and more "I'm gonna be the best servant because Mr. Frodo is wonderful and deserves to be cared for and protected."

Uh this got a little off-track but basically I don't think Sam's relationship with the Gaffer was all that healthy and it gave him kind of a Complex and thank Eru for Frodo honestly.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

My own headcanon for FrodoxSam is that over the course of the Quest they grow into a qpr, probably by the time of the beautiful little "I love him whether or no" scene, because I get a vibe from Sam there that's like "Idk what exactly I'm feeling rn but it's definitely some kind of love and that's good enough for me." Also I hc Frodo as aroace, for a lot of different reasons including but not limited to "it's a free country and I wanna see the a-spec side of me in a hero I love." ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But I also think it's more than reasonable to think Sam had a huge hero-worship blush-inducing ridiculous crush on Frodo at the beginning of the book, before they got closer during the Quest and their feelings for each other shifted and synced up into qpr territory. Merry (I think?) says something like "Sam would jump down a dragon's throat to save you, Frodo, if he didn't trip over his own feet," and that's when they're still in the Shire (and that goes well beyond just being a good servant honestly, whatever excuse Sam himself might give)!

So even if Frodo is aroace and even if their relationship ended up as a qpr I do think Sam is bi or pan (even leaving aside alterous attraction). Idk about split-attraction model specifics like demiromantic or asexual but Sam is definitely into women (Rosie mostly) and into men (unless Frodo's nb which is a hc I toy with sometimes, but regardless Sam's into multiple genders).

Ofc if Sam and Frodo are romantically (and/or sexually) involved then I quite like the idea of poly Frodo/Sam/Rosie, with or without anything going on between Frodo and Rosie. Sam/Rosie is too adorable and pure to write off as a cover-up and Sam has 2 hands.

Of course the main reason this all falls under Unrealistic is because I have no idea how Tolkien would have felt about all this Queer Nonsense. Given he was a Catholic I'm not too hopeful for a more positive reaction than "wow well that sure is a theory and you have every right to it even though it's not what I was really going for." I've heard he apparently knew queer people and thought highly of some queer literature, but there's a difference between that and actually writing queer characters or accepting queer interpretations of your own characters.

I'm actually really curious what might come out over the years, as Tolkien's immediate relatives die off and his writings are left in the hands of more distant relatives and scholars. God knows Christopher Tolkien seems to have been keen on publishing and thoroughly analyzing every scrap of his father's writing, but who knows what he might have held back, or what his father might have hidden away from him (eg extra chapters with lots of smooches)? So, I'm hopeful, but not really expecting too much.

#tolkien #my headcanons #long post #uh #q word #i guess #prob anybody still following me will be ok with it but u never know #i use it a lot and it's right at the end #it's not a slur 👀👀👀 but ppl can't help it if they have trauma #frodo #sam #original

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oldmapslibrary · 5 years ago

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Happy Wednesday!  We are showing today another beautiful county map, this time we are visiting a county in southwest England. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ It’s known for its Jurassic Coast, a long stretch on the English Channel where the cliffs contain many fossils, and rock formations show millions of years of geological history.  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ It has two prominent natural landmarks, Durdle Door, an ancient stone arch, and the layered cliffs at nearby Lulworth Cove. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The towns of Poole, Weymouth, and Swanage are very popular for their sandy beaches.  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Do you know which county is it? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The beautiful county of Dorset shire. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Old Maps Library reprint map of DORSET SHIRE is divided into its hundreds, drawn from the best authorities, assisted by the most approved Maps & Charts with various improvements. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Illustrated with Historical Extracts relative to its Natural produce. Manufactures, Trade, present state of its principal Towns, Sea Ports. By Emanuel Bowen, c.1760 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “Travel back to moments in time and discover the world heritage!"  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⏳ We have a beautiful collection of Old Maps and Vintage Illustrations on our website. Link on our bio.  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ . . . . . #oldmap #vintagemap #raremap #dorset #countymap #iloveengland #antiquemap #ancientmap #gallerywalldecor #mapas #instamap #mapdecor #mapsarecool #mapsofinstagram #mapsandillustrations #homedecorationideas #maplove #lovemaps #mapshop #mapsoftheworld #oldword #antiquemapsandprints #framedmaps #map #mapart #wallframe #mapprints #mappe #oldmapslibrary #mapasantiguos (at London, Unιted Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIBDGmcJYfw/?igshid=c2tc3bt3r3h6

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shannrussell-blog1 · 6 years ago

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If you’ve had the privilege of travelling much of Western Australia, you’ll know there are some brilliant places to explore. If you haven’t, put it on the bucket list. From some of the best beaches in the world through to what many people suggest is the best National Park in Australia (Karijini), you’ll have a blast.

When it comes to finding somewhere to camp for the night there’s no shortage, and today we are sharing 10 incredible places to get the travel juices flowing.

1. Thomas River

Starting on the southern coast, some 122km east of Esperance lies the Thomas River. This is a quiet spot in Cape Arid National Park with two campgrounds and some of the whitest beaches you’ll see anywhere in Australia.

You can camp at the DPAW (Department of Parks and Wildlife) campground at the top of the hill. Or you can camp right next to Thomas River in the shire run campgrounds. Both sites are managed by DPAW volunteers and have their own merits. They range in size but suit everything from tents to big caravans, and all are accessible by 2WD, although the road is gravel.

There’s a whopping 30kms of beach to explore at Thomas River in Western Australia.

If you have a 4WD, you can drive onto the main beach and head 30 km east towards Mount Arid. There are a few rocky headlands to drive around, but the driving is easy with the right tyre pressure and tide monitoring.

To the south is two amazing beaches – Big and Little Tagon. You can get onto Little Tagon by foot or Big Tagon by 4WD. The area is fantastic for finding your own patch of beach and relaxing! The diving and fishing are spectacular – I’ve caught plenty of fish here!

A friendly seal we met at Thomas River.

2. Waychinicup National Park

Waychinicup is located roughly 70km northeast of Albany and is a beautiful and unique place with a huge number of beautiful animals to watch. It’s a natural inlet from the coast where a small river flows into and is truly stunning. The southern coast is extremely aggressive, with huge swells and waves pummelling the rocks where the ocean meets the inlet. Fall asleep to the sound of the waves smashing in – it’s bliss!

The campsites are relatively small, and many don’t want you to park your vehicle next to camp. The fishing is great, as is the 4WD tracks along Cheynes beach and around the Waychinicup National Park.

The Waychinicup Inlet is only metres away from camp.

If you’re into animals, this is one of the best campsites we’ve ever stayed at. There are a huge number of amazing birds, several big lizards, plus quendas and possums at night. We even saw a big python waiting for a meal to come by!

We spent many hours just relaxing in different areas, watching the amazing animal life. You don’t need a 4WD to access the campgrounds at Waychinicup.

Our trusty RV tent set up at Waychinicup National Park.

3. Yeagarup

The Pemberton area is a magical place. Big karri trees stretch for kilometres on end and many follow the Warren River which winds up on the coast at Yeagarup. Access is strictly 4WD only and requires extremely low tyre pressure to get back up the dunes.

It takes a good hour to drive into Yeagarup, and eventually, you’ll come down a dune onto the beach. This beach is massive so you can drive around 15km north-west or south-east. You can camp anywhere on the beach and in the already cleared areas.

It pays to find somewhere with a bit of protection e.g., behind a sand dune, or along one of the rivers as the wind can be quite strong. Pay careful attention to the beach conditions as it changes hugely from season to season.

Take care when crossing the Warren River in your vehicle.

Crossing the Warren River by 4WD has cost a number of people their 4WD’s. Walk the crossing first, make sure your tyre pressures are down at least to 15 PSI and cross nearest where the water flows out to the ocean. It pays to have a second vehicle with you, as the sand can be extremely soft!

The salmon fishing at Yeagarup is extremely popular for good reason. There are also lots of places to explore in the surrounding area, including Callcup hill – one of the biggest dunes in Australia.

Our campsite at Yeagarup – right on the beach!

4. Waroona Dam

Just an hour and twenty minutes south of Perth lies Waroona Dam, a popular place to head for the weekend. You can stay at the caravan park or bush camp near the dam itself. Water skiing is extremely popular, as are 4WD tracks, freshwater fishing and relaxing in the water.

It’s a picturesque place that’s close enough to Perth to really have a great weekend away. The bush camp has toilets, and that’s about it. You can also access the dam by a 2WD or a 4WD vehicle.

Waroona Dam Creek is a great weekend trip for those close to Perth.

5. Dwellingup

Not far from Waroona Dam lies Dwellingup – a hugely popular camping destination. Just 1 hour and 20 minutes away from Perth, Lane Pool Reserve in Dwellingup has been enjoyed by thousands of people for many years.

Your options here are unlimited, with the beautiful Murray River flowing past many of the campsites, lots of walking and 4WD trails, white water rafting and canoeing, along with downhill mountain biking, freshwater fishing, rope swings and more.

In summer it’s great for swimming and relaxing, and in winter it’s fantastic for rafting and relaxing around a fire. The roads around Lane Pool Reserve are gravel and kept in good enough condition, so you can drive a 2WD vehicle on them if you’re careful.

The Murray River flows past the campsites so you can make the most of it.

6. Sandy Cape

Another fantastic weekend getaway is Sandy Cape which is 2 and a half hours north of Perth right on the coast. Sandy Cape is a shire run campground, which has just had some upgrades completed.

If you like you can stay at the more formal campsites. Or if you prefer ‘bush camping’ you can camp anywhere in the Sandy Cape Reserve which covers around 10km of coastline.

Boating with smaller boats is popular in the area, as well as beach fishing and exploring the 4WD tracks. There are some protected bays that are truly stunning, with lots of scenery to enjoy. You can access Sandy Cape by 2WD to the main camping areas, those that are more ‘remote’ need 4WD access.

Sandy Cape provides prime fishing spots, and opportunities to take the boat out.

7. Little Bay, Horrocks

5 and a half hours north-west of Perth lies a quiet little town known as Horrocks. If you’re self-sufficient, you can stay at Little Bay which is a protected beach with 3 small camp areas. This campground is 4WD accessible only, and you need to let your tyres down.

This campground is shire run, so it’s very affordable and the rules aren’t as strict. There’s a couple of very clean and modern camp toilets at this campsite, and activity wise there is plenty of great fishing to be done.

If you’re in need of burning some energy off, there’s a ridiculously steep dune right behind the camps, and a rope to pull yourself up. The dune takes at least 10 times longer to climb as it does to go down, but you’ll be rewarded with an amazing view at the top.

Our fishing gear lined up and ready to go at Little Bay.

8. Karijini

If you ask a number of people who have travelled across Australia where their favourite national park is, I guarantee Karijini would be a regular contender. Karijini is often said to be the best national park in Australia, and it’s easy to see why.

With amazing red rock formations surrounding truly magic waterfalls and gorges, it’s an absolute bucket list destination.

There are so many gorges, rock formations, and waterfalls to see in Karijini.

The national park is quite big and has gravel roads throughout. 2WD vehicles will be able to handle it, just keep in mind the roads can be rough depending on traffic and weather. You can camp at Dales campground (run by DPAW), or the Eco Retreat which has campsites along with glamping options.

You can explore a couple of gorges each day, with Fern Pool being an absolute must for a short walk. It’s got amazing scenery, and you can go for a refreshing swim. Karijini is a good 14-hour drive north-east of Perth, so do it over several days for maximum enjoyment.

Fern Pool is undoubtedly a must visit in Karijini.

9. Cleaverville

Pulling over the last hill my jaw dropped as I saw the view that Cleaverville had to offer. With glassy calm water, pristine islands and at only a few dollars a night per vehicle, I knew it was a winner!

Cleaverville is located in the Pilbara region, which is between Karratha and Point Samson. The coastline is amazing, the fishing is fantastic and the weather is pretty good for several months of the year. As Cleaverville is only 40km from Karratha, it’s close enough to duck in to grab anything you may have missed but also far enough to escape the hustle and bustle.

The campgrounds only have a toilet, which means you need to be self-sufficient in every other way.

The Cleaverville campground in Western Australia offers great views but has limited facilities.

10. Windjana Gorge

The Gibb River Road in the Kimberley is jam-packed full of incredible campgrounds, but Windjana Gorge has to be one of the best. With flushing toilets, solar showers and an amazing rock backdrop that lights up as the sun goes down, you’ll love it too. A short walk takes you to Windjana Gorge – one of the few places you can see wild freshwater crocodiles.

The Kimberly region is home to the stunning Windjana Gorge.

As you can see, Western Australia is full of incredible campsites just waiting for you to explore. With everything from coastal areas and beaches, to gorges and rivers, and national parks – if you haven’t camped here, then you definitely need to visit!

Where’s your favourite hidden gem in Western Australia? Let us know in the comments below.

The post 10 Incredible Campsites in Western Australia appeared first on Snowys Blog.

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garden-ghoul · 8 years ago

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appendix blog, part 1

“going straight from talmud to LotR appendices is probably the easiest transition ever”

There’s a little beginning note that explains why certain things were included and how various sources are quoted... good good historian formatting.

The Third Age was held to have ended when the Three Rings passed away in September 3021, but for the purposes of records in Gondor F.A.I began on March 25, 3021.

See. This kind of bullshit. This is my favorite part because nothing makes a world feel more real than neighboring (ish) kingdoms disagreeing on how to mark time. Listen it’s fine, relativity dictates that events at different locations and different times can be “simultaneous” depending on how you look at it. The One Ring was destroyed at exactly the same time as Galadriel and Elrond’s boat set off from the Grey Havens.

I hope everyone who knows anything about relativity is mildly pissed. *I* sure don’t know anything about relativity, and am grievously misusing it. Er, right, I’m blogging the appendices.

THE NUMENOREAN KINGS

...this starts with an account of the creation of the Silmarils. Listen. LISTEN.

There were three unions of the Eldar and the Edain: Lúthien and Beren; Idril and Tuor; Arwen and Aragorn. By the last the long-sundered branches of the Half-elven were reunited and their line was restored.

Isn’t Arwen already a descendant of both lines. LISTEN!! Mr Tolkien!! What are you on about!! He even goes on to explain Elwing and Earendil’s marriage in the next couple paragraphs! Are the “branches of the half-elven” actually... half-elven mortals and half-elven immortals?? What do you mean “their line was restored”?? Is this some more monarchist genetic purity bullshit?? Gentle reader, I’m sorry for the absolute profusion of question marks, but I don’t really understand what he is obliquely hinting at.

The sons of Eärendil were Elros and Elrond, the Peredhil or Half-elven. In them alone the line of the heroic chieftains of the Edain in the First Age was preserved; and after the fall of Gil-galad the lineage of the High-elven Kings was also in Middle-earth only represented by their descendants.

Okay I really like this. After the first age there are no longer any pure noble lines of any particular race. Nobility, as we see in Rohan, just sort of happens organically. I know this is the exact opposite of what Tolkien wants me to get out of this, but I’m reading it as “nobility is arbitrary, and heritages have no inherent value, especially after their context has been lying under the sea for thousands of years.”

There’s a bit about the founding of Numenor and they mention Meneltarma. My favorite Meneltarma thing is that after the world was rounded it still presumably sticks up out of the ocean and has a view of Tol Eressea, and people keep sailing around looking for it. I’m not sure we ever heard for sure if Tol Eressea ended up on Middle Earth or in space when Numenor fell. Then there’s a list of rulers of Numenor. Anyone have sources on the last two ruling queens, Tar-Telperien and Tar-Vanimelde? They also mention the divide between Tar- kings and Ar- kings--the latter have Adunaic names, which explains what I’ve been wondering since I read the Akallabeth. The Faithful are even... linguistically faithful. Because of course they are, it’s Tolkien. Linguistic decisions are a primary method of characterization. I’m still mad Ar-Inziladun changed his name to Tar-Palantir when he re-Faitful’d. Inziladun is the coolest fucking name ever. PLEASE let elves learn about the letter Z. Also in re the execution of those speaking Sindarin on Numenor... I wonder what Tolkien thought about the way those methods of linguistic persecution were and are used on real-ass Earth? Did he hold all natural languages to be good and worthy? (most likely: no) It’s not like I need his probably racist opinions on this but I want him to see! Double standards!

They mention the palantiri, and I want to say quickly how rad it is that if you use them for one specific thing a lot they can get stuck on it. Their animating magic gets confused and trims the subroutines that allow them to look at other stuff. I’m fond of these buggy magical artifacts.

After this there’s a lineage of Elendil’s descendants in exile. I love the phrase “ship-kings,” and I hope Tolkien is going to explain why they are called that. Nope, he did not explain. Arnor ended up being divided into three kingdoms with silly names due to an inheritance spat. I remember someone (Tom Bombadil?) talking about small kingdoms, and I expect they will all be destroyed in the war against Angmar any day now. Oh no maybe they will destroy themselves! Just like any European fairy tale with three brothers, two of them are wicked and will not stop bickering over Amon Sul and the palantir there. While this is happening, the chief Nazgul moves in up north specifically to kill them all, but apparently they don’t notice and he has plenty of time to establish infrastructure and gather armies. Guyssss. Oh! And this is the place where they name him the Witch-King! Thank goodness that’s taken care of.

This one guy in the Good Brother kingdom tried to take over the other two Arnorian kingdoms, because they didn’t have the ~blood of Isildur~ ruling them. Bull! Shit! Who gives a fuck, man! Don’t conquer people this is basic fucking courtesy. ESPECIALLY not when Angmar is RIGHT THERE waiting for the Evil Brother kingdoms to try to secede and take advantage of your strife! Oh that king’s name was Argeleb though, a really good name, a good name for a star.

It is said that the mounds of Tyrn Gorthad, as the Barrowdowns were called of old, are very ancient, and that many were built in the days of the old world of the First Age by the forefathers of the Edain, before they crossed the Blue Mountains into Beleriand, of which Lindon is all that now remains. Those hills were therefore revered by the Dúnedain after their return; and there many of their lords and Kings were buried.

Hey. Rock on. Elves aren’t the only forebears who did cool shit and who we owe cultural continuity to. Ah then there’s this cool bit about how Ardevui (some king) had to flee Fornost and stay the winter with some snow people (!!) who gradually... warmed up to him, to such an extent that when Cirdan came to fetch the Dunedain there the snow people were like “nah stay till summer, then we can take down the Witch-King.” Ardevui didn’t listen, and almost immediately died in a shipwreck. But he did give the snow people a Foreshadowing Ring that probably is going to show up later. Ardevui was the last king of Arnor, but like, he had an heir. I guess the guy just wasn’t feeling kingship. Aragorn could have already been a king, except that hobbits didn’t really need any kinging and there weren’t enough Dunedain left in the north for it to be worth it. The royal line started a tradition of fostering their sons in Rivendell. So they’d be elvish enough to seem kingly, I guess. Elvish is like French, you’ve got to know it if you’re noble. We also hear about how Celebrian was tortured by orcs (why were there orcs in the north? has Angmar not fallen yet?) and had to go away to the West for her trauma.

And now we come to Aragorn II, the current king, who sometimes vacations in his country house near the Shire. But big folk are illegal in the Shire, so he never actually goes in. Just hosts exclusive parties at his mansion. Also we find out that Sam’s daughter Elanor is 1) very beautiful (presumably as a result of magic dust) and 2) a handmaid of Arwen.

Aha! Finally, ship-kings! They’re exactly what they sound like, a succession of kings who built navies and conquered stuff along the western coast. I just can’t bring myself to care that much about the Gondor section, because there’s no hobbits and so far Beruthiel hasn’t been mentioned either. It’s just a series of small wars with literally every one of Gondor’s neighbors. Oh wait no now we’ve got a bunch of Gondorrim being rude to some king’s wife because she’s of a “lesser race,” which caused a civil war. “No, no,” they reportedly said, “we’re just concerned her children will die when they’re 30, like normal humans.”

Then there’s a bunch more wars I don’t care about. Arvedui tries to claim kingship of Gondor, because Arthedain apparently have a tendency toward greed and too much respect for successions. Gondor just stopped talking to him and crowned someone else as king. Better luck next time, asshole. All right, here we go, one of the kings (?) from Gondor, Earnur, comes up to the Grey Havens to help retake Arnor and Cirdan and everyone go off on Angmar. Earnur almost kills the Witch-King but his horse is too cowardly. Glorfindel shows up and makes the prophecy that no man will kill the Witch-King. Okay, what? Since when is Glorfindel a prophet? Among elves that capacity is usually reserved for 1) mothers (and only in regard to their children) and 2) rulers of countries. Anyway after Earnur goes back to Gondor and becomes king he is laughably easy to bait by calling him a chicken, with the consequence that he rides to Minas Morgul to fight the Witch-King and gets tortured to death. He was the last king of Gondor, because mumble mumble blood purity hangups.

More wars, more wars. Duirng Denethor’s father’s reign a Mystery Guy from a Mystery Place shows up and is just really super good at fortifying Gondor, but he leaves as soon as he’s done enough deeds to make it safe. They call him Thorongil, but I kind of suspect it’s Aragorn. That would just make Denethor’s attitude toward Aragorn in RotK more hilarious, because young Denethor really resented how much everyone loved Thorongil more than him. This is also the origin of Denethor’s distrust of Gandalf, since Thorongil kept telling Ecthelion to trust him.

Oh I thought eventually there would be like a chapter break or something. TOMORROW is Aragorn and Arwen.

#blog of the rings

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