#Marlborough Sounds

[magnificentpaperfest]

[inkymink]

Nearing sunset in Tōtaranui / Queen Charlotte Sound. Marlborough Sounds, Aotearoa. 18 Oct 2022.

[defensivelee]

'count fortunatus' sounds like a fucking. whumpy ass nickname for marlborough. much to think about

[arearchive]

Waterfall Bay House, Marlborough Sounds

[the-main-idiot]

my chnt swap AU will now be called

camp this and that

idea originally provided by @fall3nash2339

all info about characters+ art links under cut😋😋!!

(NEWWER DESIGNS WILL COME SOON, ALL OF THESE ARE FROM A SLIGHTLY OUTDATED STYLE)

all the characters have the same physical appearance (except for sydney), personalities and roles are changed

the nurses~

head nurse: Elijah Volkov, he makes all the announcements, and is mentally decaying. Boy oh boy, is he quite the man. Silly little bpd man, collected mental illness like Pokémon. But he's caring, and will do just about anything in his power to help the campers out when needed. He has a knack for elephants, likes sharing fun facts, not only about elephants but anything and everything. No filter😋 if he's thinking it, he'll say it, obviously nothing bad will come of that. Trust issues, yummy.

assistant nurse: Adam Uptin, always carrying snacks with him, he can get you to share how your parents wronged you then shove a bag of skittles in your hand and walk away. Adam isn't a fan of leaving the nurses cabin, let alone his side office, something about being a vampire and ""ahhhh the suns"",,etc etc. Although, you can lore him outside with some sunscreen, an umbrella, and an apple.

camp counselors (all camps stay the same)

Cabin Dung Beetle: Juniper Sloan. long neck, dirty blonde. British man, he's scared of the water (blah blah blah "i'm experiencing the past, present, and future all at once and i can't breathe." yadda yadda yadda) besides the meltdowns and break downs, he's pretty silly

Cabin Grasshopper : Marisol Yuchengco, 👁️dresses in gothic attire, but she's one of the most understating counselors you'll ever meet. Salem de La Marnierre, 👁️scene kid vibes, lowkey really chill though. The two are dating<3 (basically just the same as chnt, just,,, ya'know,, swapped.)

Cabin Magpie Moth: Rowan Chow, the goofiest mother fucker in the entire camp. He can actually produce sound effects, he doesnt choose them or when they happen, that's up to the universe, they just come from his general area. This man runs off of actual cartoon logic, dont question it.<3

Cabin Silkworm: Yvonne Marley, femcel. That is truly all i have to say about her. She pull's misinformation straight from the internet and spreads it like mold on moist bread. Joshua MacHeath, tictok eboy, he can make a killer flower necklace though. Joshua will sit with the kids who can't/won't participate in certain camp activities and teach them how to make bracelets out of, well, anything and everything!

Cabin Tarantula Hawk: Lucille Bertuccelli,👁️ she's an older counselor, a sweetheart though. Not only does she keep cabin tarantula hawk up am running, but she also is in charge of the arts and crafts cabin! Gracie Liu (👁️lowkey, i forgot gracie liu existed, so all of her color are just inverted. no matter how you picture her in ur brain, just invert the colors)

Cabin Ladybug : Soren Baltimore, 👁️a bit of a quiet lad, it wears a cape given to it by fennel. soren wears pants that are cover completely in pockets, those pockets are practically infinite, anything you can imagine, soren has it in its pockets. Fennel Marlborough, 👁️our favorite camp taxidermist (don't tell anyone) they have the art of life preservation down to a tea, now if they can only get em to start moving again. soren and fennel are tightly nit, they made up two languages, one between only them and the other for the entire cabin.

Cabin Widow-spider: Matthew Napoleon, 👁️he is the void, don't be scared of him just based on looks though. Matthew will teach you about things you thought you knew (you didn't). Because matthew cant actually talk, due to all that void, he communicates in a fun mixture of sign language, charades, and various static esc noises. Matthew is also involved, if not running, most water based activities (and sometimes juno+mila helps out around the cabin)

the cafeteria: Mila Alcorn 👁️and Juno Matsouka, 👁️i say "and" instead of giving the two separate descriptions because they are inseparable, trust me, i've tried. these two fish folk work together in the kitchen to provide food for all the campers at camp this and that. Practically gourmet chefs, these two are quite creative. Even though there's two of them, you'll never have to worry about chaos in the kitchen, mila and juno always compromise with each other, causing for some never before tasted flavors

special doodads

head of camp: Warren Earthman,👁️ he's a, stern, tired, grumpy, old man. also the walls in are covered with different brands and types of chainsaws. beside the threatening aspects of him, he also openly picks favorites and doesn't listen to anything that doesn't openly concern him or the government.

the rot: Sydney October Sargent, a weird rotting man who lives in the woods surrounding the camp. Don't get to close to him without a gas mask, please, the spores that emanate off of him are damn near hallucinogenic. Besides the skin falling off his bones, the various species of bugs living within him, and all the mushrooms/fungus living from his decomposing self, he's almost harmless. I mean, he's in shambles, a corpse who just won't let go, just try not to breathe near him.

Martime: Jedidiah A.M. Martime, a man who keep appearing in my dreams, I don't have dreams often, why is here, in color no less. this annoying, clock obsessed, not even real, man keeps trying to tell me that he's "here for you," and "it's ok, you can take a brake, you have enough time." what that man needs to do is pipe down and accept the fact he doesn't even exist in the physical plane.

[fxnofthxngs]

"I Almost..." (A Richard Krupse x Female Reader Poem)

As I'm putting the finishing touches on my spicy Rammstein oneshot, here's an intimate poem I crafted during Poetry class today! Includes a song I feel captures the essence of the moment. ❤️)

(⚠️ Content warning: talks of addiction)

As she trudged and huffed

exhausted and done with the day

through the dimly lit hallway

of the modest apartment building 

She pulls a solitary key

From her warm and cozy coat pocket

And pushes open the front door

“Richard? You home?”

She calls out for her lover, her partner

Setting down her mahogany leather work bag

Dropping it to the floor

Kicking off her boots 

Sighing heavily, oh how the day

Has taken its cruel toll on her

At first, she was met with silence 

An eerie stillness, as if all life on earth

Had ceased to exist, and the sound was now

Nothing but a distant memory, an illusion

Sniff, Sniff 

pause, a beat of silence

Sniff

“Riesch?” She called out, fearful

as she inched close to their shared bedroom door

Which had been left open a crack

Nudging it wider open with her shoulder

Her heart sank at the crestfallen sight

There was Richard, hugging his knees

Sat in front of their unmade bed

In the darkness of the bedroom

“Katze..?” He weakly replied, his face barely visible

But his tears shining from the hall light pouring in

Dropping to her knees, she crawled to him

Both hands placed on his cheeks, lips parted

Concern etched on her features

“A-Are you okay? What happened?” She cooed sweetly

Her heart broke as she sighed

Wiping the tears from his face and kissing the top

Of his tousled black locks, humming softly

“I …  almost, I opened the pack, and...” His words came out broken through quick sobs

Gesturing with his head toward an open Marlborough box

Open on the carpeted floor, discarded 

“It hurts, I-I can’t do it..” He cried shakily

Prompting her to pull him into her arms 

In a warm, loving embrace while rubbing his back

Shushing him sweetly while he held her tightly

Holding on for dear life

as if she would disappear

The second he dared to let go

“Shh, it’s okay, Riesch, I know. But you didn’t, I’m so proud of you.”

She whispered into his ear

Soothing him in the way only she could, just as he did for her

When she was left feeling broken and beaten down by her own life

“You didn’t do it though, You’re so strong, okay? I love you so much.”

Pulling away, her words registered

in Richard’s brain and his eyes began desperately searching hers

“Why do you love me? What have I ever done .. to deserve you..?”

He asked, with quivering lips and sorrowful cerulean eyes

Pressing her forehead to his, she inhaled deeply and kissed him passionately

Lips connecting while she ran her hands 

From his soaked cheeks to his bare arms

“Why?” She echoed back in disbelief

“Because you’re you, Richard. Ich Liebe dich.”

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 103 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: putting up a new fence

I heard some people were surprised by the pig facts? I guess I'm being a redneck again? XD That's just stuff you learn when you grow up in the countryside.

"and their manure is great for composting." And omg, the smell of pigs is really quite something... I generally avoid going into the pig's barn at my grandparents in law's farm. Can't get that smell out of your clothes, your hair... A few years back someone in the area where I live fertilized their field with pig manure and it was dreadful... Luckily only happened once. Even the farmers around here were complaining.

"at around three or four hundred kilos" My fucking horse weighs 450 kilos. So that really, reaaaally big for a pig.

"Part of me did consider immediately trying to send it for slaughter" I wonder what would happen, if people were to eat meat from Monster Pig...?

"But as I got closer, I saw that they were scars. Shot scars, most of them, with some that looked like they might have been from spikes or axes." Nago/Okkoto?

"The first year they did it there was a lot of trash left behind we had had to clean up, but apparently someone bashed the right heads about it, since last year there was barely a cigarette stub left." Shit like this is actually a problem, there doesn't even have to be an event. Some people will just litter their trash, other people are just careless. And that trash then lands in the food for our animals.

"But instead, I felt it settle next to me, the meat of it sinking into the spaces left by my position. It was pressing up against me, and let out the most contented sound I have ever heard from a pig. The message could not have been clearer: ‘Friend’." Awww! But yeah, that farmer always fed Monster Pig. He never treated it badly. Of course Monster Pig thinks he's a friend. Until now he didn’t even do anything against it, so one could argue he’s complicit with the Fear?

"When you explained the situation, I hoped you’d have some special trick for dealing with it, but I suppose welding scrap metal around the pen and filling it with cement just about works" Our first problem being solved with concrete!

"Those pigs didn’t deserve what that thing did to them. Tearing them apart and eating them." Go vegan? Or, vegetarian would actually be enough for that. It’s something you should always be aware of when you eat meat. (Disclaimer: I'm a flexitarian. So I do still eat meat. Hell, my grandpa in law turned his pigs into delicious smoked meat...)

"Oh, and if you’re hungry, I’ve got some bacon in the freezer I’m going to cook up. ... What?" Lol. It sounded earlier like this was a transcribed statement. So Dylan Anderson did not write it down himself (because of that bit about "Oh, uh, when you’re writing this up, make it’s clear that we’re near the Marlborough Forest"). Still funny, that the transcriber would include the “What?”.

JON: "I currently have nothing to indicate where Gertrude might have travelled next, but I… I have a hunch Kurt Anderson might be able to help." He stops himself there. Was he going to say "I Know"? Still in denial about that?

KURT: “Yeah, but he didn’t say how. Told me some weird guy turned up afterwards, and she went off with him in a real hurry. So Gerry suddenly turned up with some horrible news. Can’t remember if we hear what it was exactly?

Interesting how Kurt Anderson doesn't notice he's been compelled until he gets the juicy stuff pulled out of him...

KURT: [Afraid] "What are you?!" I'm sure this hurt Jon. Now even others refer to him as... not human. He did absolutely chose to use compulsion here though. Why play investigations on hard mode if you can just cheat your way through it? And Jon later says he likes it. To be completely honest, I would use the hell out of that myself. Would probably save me a lot of nerves and time.

Jon finally puzzled together that the tunnels are a blind spot!

DAISY: "Right. So, if he’s not paying attention, and I kill you down here…" Oh man, I HATED Daisy back then.

Jon meeting up with murder cop, upon his wish alone and not because Elias told Daisy to escort Jon, heavily suspecting Elias can't watch (and therefore protect) him just so he can organize a bit of safety for the others <3

JON: "No. No. I was, I was… I was thinking. This… Section 31 unit that, that you’re a part of –" DAISY: [Insistent] "Not a unit! Just paperwork." JON: "Right but, but… what do they think about Elias?" DAISY: "Best avoided. Pretty harmless. Um, crimes involving the Institute get people sectioned, but he’s not an active threat." JON: "If we had evidence that he was an active threat, that he was killing people, he, he was the one threatening to make all of your stuff public, do you think they’d move against him?" DAISY: "… Maybe." Martin's stunt in MAG 118 is a JonMartin collaboration!

DAISY: "You sure you want to talk with that thing running?" JON: "Oh. Um, I-I… I didn’t … didn’t realise I’d turned it on." Was there ever an instance, where Jon unknowingly turned on the tape recorder himself? I think it was always the tape recorders acting on their own. Maybe Jon doubts his own mind, questioning himself if he's the one doing this? (I mean, we know that as least most of the time it's not him, it has happened plenty of time where the recorder was out of reach or Jon wasn't even there at all.) Also, since the tape recorders do work in the tunnels, it is kind of implied that the tapes are not the Eye.

@a-mag-a-day

[bullet-prooflove]

“what can i get you? do you need water? a hug? space?”

Five or more Pls ❤️

Mike knows it’s been a bad day. You aren’t in his unit anymore, but he knows the signs. He can smell the cigarette smoke the second he steps inside of the apartment, and he knows you’ve seen something terrible. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you pull out the Marlboroughs. He finds you on the fire escape, wearing one of his jumpers, pulled over leggings and his winter socks.

You gaze isn’t on him as he climbs through the window, it’s on something far away in the distance. You take another drag as he sits down behind you, his shoulder nudging yours gently.

“What can I do for you mi vida?” he asks quietly. “Do you need a hug, some space?”

You stubbed out the cigarette in the plant pot the two of you used as an ashtray before exhaling deeply.

“A hug.” You said, the words sounding raw and choked as they left your throat.

He hated that you were hurting like this, that there was nothing he could do to take away the agony that resonated through you. He felt your pain as acutely as his own, it stabbed through his chest like a blade, over and over again.

“C’mere.” He murmured, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and drawing your close. His forehead came to rest on yours, his thumb chasing away the tears that stained your cheeks.

“It’s gonna be alright” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly over yours. “I promise you mi vida, it’s all gonna be alright.”

[gokitetour]

8 Stunning Islands in New Zealand You Must Visit

New Zealand is well-known for its spectacular scenery and natural treasures, but it also has numerous lovely islands that await exploration. These islands provide a wide range of experiences, from pristine beaches to rough wilderness, making them must-see locations for those seeking adventure and quiet. Nestled in the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean, these islands have distinct ecosystems, a rich cultural legacy, and unrivaled beauty. From the beautiful coasts of Waiheke Island to the Rocky Mountains of Stewart Island, each island in New Zealand has its own unique appeal and fascination. Whether you want to hike through natural woods, dive in crystal-clear lakes, or learn about Maori culture, there is something for everyone to enjoy. As you travel to these breathtaking islands, you will be intrigued by the rich diversity of wildlife, which ranges from playful dolphins to towering seabirds. You'll also get the opportunity to learn about the indigenous Maori people's rich history and customs, who have a strong connection to their land. Whether you want to relax on isolated beaches or have adrenaline-pumping experiences in the great outdoors, the gorgeous islands of New Zealand guarantee an amazing experience that will leave you in awe of nature. So pack your bags and prepare to start on a voyage of exploration to these magnificent islands in the heart of the South Pacific.

Here are some stunning islands in New Zealand you must visit.

1. Stewart Island: Rakiura Island is another name for Stewart Island. It is New Zealand's third-largest island. You have to visit this lovely island if you want to walk and hike amid amazing animals and breathtaking scenery. Thirty kilometres separate the island from the South Island. The island has only one settlement, Oban. Oban is located on the island's eastern side, opposite Halfmoon Bay.

2. Waiheke Island: One of New Zealand's most stunning and sizable islands is Waiheke Island. This is the island for you if you've always wanted to have a destination wedding or spend your honeymoon on an island. The island has unique beaches and gorgeous vineyards. The island has a large population. Accessing Waiheke Island is a breeze. In approximately forty minutes, you may get to the island from Auckland by ferryboat. The island is ideal for a day vacation because it is so conveniently accessible.

3. New Caledonia: One of the most breathtaking tropical islands close to New Zealand is called New Caledonia. The surroundings and experiences of New Caledonia are completely different from those found on the New Zealand mainland. It just takes two and a half hours to fly from Auckland to this tropical island. There is a white beach and crystal-blue water on this lovely island. Delicious meals and a European culture (French in particular) characterize New Caledonia.

4. Little Barrier Island: Established in 1896, the first nature reserve in New Zealand is located on Little Barrier Island. The preservation of the indigenous flora and wildlife depends critically on this island. Access to this stunning and significant island is very restricted. A unique certification issued by the Department of Conservation is required in order to visit Little Barrier Island. Following that, you will be able to board a car that is authorized to transport you to the island. The island known as "Little Barrier" lies 80 kilometres north of Auckland. It's the ideal location for bird viewing, diving, and snorkeling.

5. D’Urville Island: This island has the name of Jules Dumont d'Urville, a French explorer. Situated in the Marlborough Sounds, this breathtaking island. The eighth-largest island in New Zealand is D'Urville Island. This gorgeous island is the best option if you're searching for adventure activities in New Zealand. Activities on this island include diving, snorkeling, strolling, observing marine life, and cycling. The primary draw of the island is its unspoiled natural isolation.

6. Fiji Island: The most stunning island in the Pacific, close to New Zealand, is Fiji Island. One of the greatest tourist infrastructures is found in the Fiji Islands. This breathtaking island is the ideal destination for romantic getaways with your significant other. Indulge in some adventure sports, unwind with a stunning view of the ocean, or go diving into the water to witness amazing marine life on the remote islands of Fiji. From New Zealand, a 3-hour flight gets you to Fiji.

7. Rangitoto Island: Rangitoto Island in New Zealand is a great place to visit if you want to see an island that was formed just a few centuries ago by nature. One of Auckland's most distinctive natural features is the young volcano that sits atop Rangitoto Island. Six centuries ago, the water gave life to this island. Another reason Rangitoto is well-known is for its adventurous activities. Activities that you may partake in include bird viewing, sea kayaking, and hiking to Rangitoto Island's top.

8. Poor Knights Islands: Don't let its name fool you. The island has an abundance of rich flora and animals; thus, it is by no means impoverished. The unfortunate Knight Islands are the remnants of a few ancient volcanoes that have sculpted themselves into an amazing system of underwater caverns, tunnels, arches, and cliffs. Situated on the Tutukaka coast of the North Island are these breathtakingly gorgeous and magnificent islands. Diving and snorkeling are popular activities on these islands. There is a marine reserve on these islands. Thus, make sure to take advantage of the incredible aquatic life this island has to offer while you're here.

 Conclusion

The breathtaking islands of New Zealand provide a plethora of wonderful experiences for visitors from all over the world. From the vineyard-lined beaches of Waiheke Island to the rough wildness of Stewart Island, each site has its own distinct charm and fascination. There is something for everyone to enjoy, whether you want to relax on pristine beaches, go on an adventure in the great outdoors, or learn about Maori culture. Exploring these islands allows you to appreciate New Zealand's natural beauty while also connecting with its rich history and tradition. From learning about the indigenous Maori people to witnessing various species in their native settings, every time spent on these islands allows you to gain a better knowledge of this fascinating nation. For Delhi tourists who want to engage in this experience, acquiring a New Zealand visa is the key to discovering the beauty of these islands. With careful planning and the required papers, you can soon find yourself experiencing the magnificent landscapes and rich cultures that await in New Zealand. So, whether you're planning a solo journey of self-discovery or a great family holiday, don't pass up the opportunity to explore these breathtaking islands. Pack your luggage, apply for your New Zealand visa from Delhi, and prepare for an incredible trip in one of the most beautiful places on the planet.

Read more-: New Zealand Visa from Mumbai, New Zealand Visa from Kolkata, New Zealand Visa from Chennai, New Zealand Visa from Bangalore

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Do you have any particular thoughts about Anne’s feud with William and Mary?

Eſteem'd Anon,

that indeed I do! I do wonder what to call the situation at hand, though, because "Anne's feud with William and Mary" does sound rather like a one-sided grudge.

In any case, regardless what we might call the situation, I think what's at the core is a much more complex dynamic than one against the other (two). it was profoundly sad, and profoundly tragic for all involved.

From Anne's perspective, William had 'stolen' her sister so to speak and taken her away to the Netherlands when she had still been a child; the separation had hurt both sisters greatly, who had only ever, their governess aside, really had had each other growing up, seeing as their mother died young, and Charles II had seen to it that the potential heirs to the throne had been raised away from their parents to prevent them raising their daughters as Catholics.

Anne and William apparently disliked one another enough that they were not above the occasional pettiness, as Sarah, the Duchess of Marlborough recorded:

I would cast doubt on whether William, who according to Sarah was unaware of Anne's pregnancy craving, purposefully ate the entire plate to spite her, but one can easily see that the two of them did not see eye to eye, nor made any effort to.

Petty disputes over peas and unflattering nickname's such as Anne's "Dutch Abortion" for William aside, one thing that really complicated the relationship between Anne and Mary and William, was Anne's only surviving son William Henry, Duke of Gloucester.

From the first day of his life on, Anne knew that her son would, in his capacity as heir presumptive, never quite be her own, as even the circumstances of his birth illustrate: both the King and Queen were present for the birth, with Mary remaining at her sister's side throughout and William being ushered in just moments before the baby was born, so as to avoid any speculations of the sort that had sparked the eventual downfall of Mary's and Anne's father James II at the birth of their half-brother, James Francis Edward Stuart.

To have one's disliked brother-in-law watch as you give birth, in a state of undress and in a vulnerable and potentially medically dangerous position cannot possibly have a positive influence on an already strained personal relationship.

And matters did not improve as the baby grew up: Anne's closest confidante Sarah, the Duchess of Marlborough, reports in her memoirs that Anne felt treated badly, overlooked and overridden in her position as a mother by Mary, who considered the Duke, heir apparent to the throne, as much her own as Anne's responsibility and would send in people to look at the baby and report back to her whenever he was sick, using her authority to make Anne grant these people access to the nursery:

One can tell that Mary did not mean any harm to her sister but acted out of concern for the nephew in whom she may have seen a sort of ersatz for the children she had never been able to conceive (and which weighed heavily on her mental health), but it is just as easily to see why that kind of behaviour strained her relationship with Anne, who must have felt as if her only worth to her sister and brother-in-law was providing them with a child to raise as their eventual successor, totally ignoring her both as a mother, and as the then-first-in-line to the throne.

Naturally, the situation did not get any less complicated when the little Duke of Gloucester was growing up and William, then widowed, insisted on handing his education over to male tutors, a situation which has often been represented as a power struggle akin to a custody battle between William and Anne (which it, according to the ways boys were raised at the time was not, but may have felt so for Anne regardless).

The rather tragic battle over the Duke of Gloucester aside, I think it cannot be stressed enough that William and Anne in particular were simply just two people who did just not harmonise well.

They had different political outlooks, different friend circles, bar a few exceptions, and both likely regarded the other jealously as a potential threat to their respective relationship with Mary, whom they both loved.

Mary on the other hand had quite simply ceased to be who she was at fifteen, when she was married off, and both she and Anne had been shaped by their respective experiences that rather caused them to drift apart as adults than reconnect.

As co-monarch with William, she naturally tended to side more often with him than with Anne when it came to political measures impacting her, which further strained their already tense relationship.

Another factor that played, particularly on William's part, an important role in wanting to keep Anne as far removed from funds and political influence as possible, was his own shaky enough claim to the title of King with Anne technically being ahead of him in the line of succession. Not being granted funds, her husband kept barred from any active military service and the use of certain royal residences denied, one can see why Anne may have been frustrated with William and Mary.

Matters reached their climax when in 1692, William and Mary suspected Anne to be part of a Jacobite plot, and Anne's privileges were pruned.

To cut my rambling thoughts short here, I think it boils down to several tales that are as old as time; namely, in-laws not getting along, and that no dynamic among people, particularly within a family, has ever been improved by adding a power dynamic to it.

In the end, it was a sad situation for all involved, marked by repeated tragic losses, with no real winners, and no more or less innocent, or guilty parties. They were adults who had allowed an unhealthy dynamic built on shaky, sometimes sour relationships, reach the point of no return.

[inkymink]

Shifting clouds, shifting light. Tōtaranui / Queen Charlotte Sound. Marlborough Sounds, Aotearoa. 18 Oct 2022.

[defensivelee]

ok fine poison from habbinz hoteel is a six lives! marly song but specifically the live version on viv's channel

[middleearthpixie]

Misunderstanding 

Armitage Summer Splash #7 ~ Thanks as always to @fizzyxcustard and @lathalea for this challenge!!

Trope: Soulmates

Quote: “I’ve never loved you.”

RA Character: John Thornton

Relationship: John Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,550

~~**~~

Night after night, you lay next to your husband, staring up into the darkness while he snored softly beside you. You knew he hadn’t wanted to marry you. He’d made no secret of that. No, it was your family’s money that tipped his hand, no matter how much he hated that it had. He was a proud man, your Mr. Thornton. Proud and stubborn and he had not wanted to be bought, as he saw it, by your family. But, if the Marlborough Mills were to remain up and running, he had little choice.

Of course, no one asked you how you felt about being bartered to this man the way you had been. Your father didn't care, you were merely another commodity to him. Mr. Thornton was far too busy grumbling about how his life had been so gravely upended that it seemed he barely took notice of you.

And you’d looked so forward to your wedding night. Your husband was a fine figure of a man, tall and handsome and amazingly elegant. He’d kissed the back of your hand once and your heart nearly stopped at the sensation he sent rippling through you. Of course, that was before he’d needed your father’s help, before he’d found himself burdened with a wife he did not want. 

Your wedding night was the only time he’d touched you in a husbandly manner. He’d kissed you deeply, soothed you when you felt the sharp, stinging pain of surrendering your virginity to him, whispered your name into your ear when he found his pleasure and shared it with you as best he could. 

You fell asleep that night in his arms, a smile on your face and hope in your heart. Perhaps you’d worried for nothing. Perhaps he wasn’t as unhappy as you’d thought. 

That joy lasted until the next next afternoon for it was then that you heard him admit he did not want you and he never had. After supper, he’d gone into his study and a while later, you’d overheard him in his study, deep in conversation with his mill’s foreman, Mr. Higgins. You’d been bringing in the evening’s post when you heard their voices, and you smiled. They sounded as if they were friends with one another. Mr. Thornton even laughed a bit. It wasn't a sound you heard often, and that was quite the shame, for your husband had a very enticing laugh, low and husky and rumbling. It made you smile and you didn't even know what they found so amusing.

You’d lifted your hand to knock on the door that wasn’t quite closed all the way, and that was when you heard it. 

Or rather, you’d heard him.

“How do I tell her,” Mr. Thornton said, his deep voice like a roll of summer thunder, “how do I tell her, ‘I’ve never loved you’ now?’ I should have done it way before now, before the wedding. And I should have made myself very clear to her.”

“Just tell her,” came Mr. Higgins’ response, his own voice not quite as deep as his employer’s, held a hint of sympathy in it, “and I am certain she will understand. She really has no choice now, does she? What’s done is done. You are married and there is no undoing it.”

You’d moved away from the door then, opting to leave the day’s post on the escritoire just outside his study. And since that moment, you’d waited, breathless, your heart racing ahead of itself each time your gaze alit upon him. It wasn’t fair that he’d already decided he’d never loved you, when you’d had already lost your heart to him. And it wasn't simply that he was divinely handsome, with thick black hair, fine proud features, and the most piercing blue eyes you’d ever seen. No, his face was pleasant to look upon, but you’d seen him with his sister, his mother, the children of his workers, and knew his heart was a good one. He was kind and considerate with everyone. And when he’d loved you in your marriage bed, you thought—for a moment—he loved you in more than the physical sense. 

But you were apparently wrong. 

And win the days that passed since you’d overheard this, you felt lost. Adrift. Felt as if he wished you were anywhere but in his house. You rather felt like a stranger who’d turned up on his doorstep seeking refuge and once admitted, simply refused to leave. At supper every evening, he’d ask you how your day was, you made pleasant conversation and then come the end of the meal, he’d vanish into his study until it was time to ready for bed. He’d come above and go about readying for bed while you were already beneath the blankets, your nose in a book. But you paid little heed those words, instead watching him through lowered lashes as he stripped down from the proper gentleman into the man he’d been on your wedding night—his hair not quite so neat any longer, no longer in fine, unwrinkled clothes and cravat. You’d catch a glimpse of the back of his bare thigh, even his foot, and it would twist your insides in ways that were as delicious as they were aggravating. 

You wanted to curve up against him, to rest your head on his chest and trace your fingers thorough the sprinkling of dark hair spread across his warm skin. You wanted to kiss his lips, his neck, perhaps even other parts of his body that made a blush come to your cheeks at the very thought. His body fascinated you to no end and you wished only to explore it and satisfy your curiosity about him.

But you were far too shy to do any of those things. Instead, you waited for him to reach for you, just as he had that night. 

And night after night, he’d lean over, brush your lips with a perfunctory kiss, and whisper, “Good night,” before extinguishing the lamps and sinking into his own pillows. 

“Mr. Thornton?” You managed to whisper into the darkness.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering… would—would you think me terribly forward if I asked you something?”

The linens rustled. Him shaking his head, you thought, and his voice floated to you as he replied, “Not at all.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to muster the courage to say what was on your mind. Why was it so bloody difficult when you’d never had that problem prior to marrying John Thornton? More often than not, your big mouth landed you in hot water, so why were you such a ninny now? What was it about him that made you so bloody tongue-tied and unsure of yourself?

I’ve never loved you.

That was the difference. 

“I was wondering if you preferred lamb or beef for supper tomorrow?”

Silence descended and you clenched one hand into a fist, your fingernails digging into your palm as you silently berated yourself for taking the coward’s way out. 

“Lamb, I suppose.”

“Very well. I will make sure Cook knows.”

“Very well.” A brief silence. “Thank you.”

You stared into the darkness, waiting for the soft snores that meant he’d fallen asleep. But they never came. Steeling yourself, you took another deep breath. “Mr. Thornton?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if we might… that is… well…”

Linens rustled again and although it was dark, you made out his silhouette as he rolled onto one side, propped up on his elbow. “We might what?”

You forced yourself to look at him. In the darkness, all you saw was the way his eyes glittered thanks to the gaslights beyond your front windows. But you didn't need light to know how he looked at you, his hair would be mussed, his eyes heavy-lidded, and all you wanted to do was reach across and curve your hand against his cheek. His skin would feel like sandpaper, rough with the beginnings of a beard.

“Perhaps we might do as we did on our wedding night?”

He didn't answer right away and you pressed your lips together as you waited, trying to fend off the feeling of utter foolishness. He was probably horrified that you’d ask such a thing. 

But then, he leaned over and his lips just brushed yours. They were as soft as his skin was rough, and teasing, moving slowly against yours, just as they had when he’d kissed you that first time at your wedding.

He pressed you down, onto your back, and as you wound your arms about his neck, he shifted to come over you. Standing, he was roughly a foot taller than you, but lying prone? You aligned perfectly. His hips pressed ever so gently into yours and heat tore through you as if you’d bene struck by lightning.

His lips parted, his tongue slick and slow as it eased between your lips to glide along your tongue. You’d forgotten he liked to kiss this way, and for a moment, you wondered how you could have possible done so? That kiss alone was enough to fire your blood, to heat your desire, and when you slid your fingers up into his hair, he sighed softly into your mouth and pressed his hips into yours once more. You shivered at the gentle, growing pressure of his arousal against you. 

You let your hands skim down over his bare back. He slept dressed only in small clothes, which horrified you that first night, but you’d since come to appreciate. His skin was smooth and hot, and when your fingernails just grazed it, he shivered and gooseflesh rippled along over his ribs. 

He laughed softly, pulling away as he murmured, “I hadn’t realized I was that ticklish before.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, “should I not do that?”

“I didn’t say that, love. Nor would I,” he brushed the tip of your nose with a kiss, then captured your lips again. 

This time, he caught a handful of your nightdress to tug. The cotton skimmed up along your legs, You lifted your hips to free it, and then he drew back to whisk it over your head, letting it fall onto the pillow alongside your head. 

He kissed his way over your chin, down your neck. Heat rippled thorough you as he moved lower, as he swept outward, along the inner curve of your left breast. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as his lips closed about that nipple and the heat became fire. Oh, you remembered this so well from your wedding night. Only tonight, the sensations burning through you were even more wonderful than they had been that night. He teased the nipple he’d caught with the tip of his tongue, flicking against it, swirling around it. Your back arched of its own, your fingers slipping into the soft thickness of his hair, twisting and holding on as he moved lower now. 

Oh, this was even more amazing than you remembered. He peppered teasing kisses along your belly, down across from one hip to the other, and when he lifted his head, your eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough that you could see his expression, could see the almost lupine smile on his face as he murmured, “Should I stop, love?”

“Stop? Oh, no, please… I wish you wouldn’t.”

The words shot out before you could stop them and his grin grew even more wolfish. He bent to you, nuzzled the thick curls between you thighs and then…

“Oh!” Your cry bounced off the walls as the tip of his tongue teased you. He moved slowly, the maddening rush of your blood roared through your ears as each stroke brought you closer to the edge of something wonderful, something you’d never felt before. He held you there at the summit and just went you thought you would go mad, he hurled you from it.

You clung to him, your hips rocking to meet him, his name a husky cry on your lips, and when he came up to cover you, his small clothes were lost in the darkness beneath the bedcovers and he ever so gently pushed inside you. 

“Love,” he whispered with his first thrust, “I’ve missed you.”

There was no pain this time. Only the delicious sense of fullness that was him moving inside you. You wrapped around him, meeting each thrust, and whispered, “As have I…”

He smiled down at you then bent to capture your lips. He moved faster now, his thrusts quicker, more powerful, and you felt the tingling sparks of another, sweeter climax. You clung to him, your fingernails biting into his back, dragging out over his ribs as he moaned low in his throat and surged deep. He shuddered, offered a powerful thrust and then—

“Oh…oh… love…” He trembled against you, sinking back to let his head come to rest in the curve of your neck. Your name was a gentle whisper on his lips, which then brushed against your skin. 

You let your eyes close as tears stung them. Only, unlike your wedding night, these weren’t tears of pain. No, this night was far more wonderful.

Or, it would be, if you didn't know what you knew.

Before your courage fled, you whispered, “May I ask you something, Mr. Thornton?”

He lifted his head, his eyes heavy lidded and his smile seductive. “You may. But, if I might? Please, I’d far rather hear my given name on your lips. Especially at moment such as this.”

You smiled up at him. “So, I wasn’t too forward then, in wanting to do this?”

“No,” his low laugh rumbled across your skin like a warm caress, “why would you think that?”

“Because,” you took a deep breath, “I thought perhaps you’d rather not… I mean… that you would rather perhaps… I mean…”

“Love,” he shifted and the fullness inside you dissipated, “please, just tell me what’s on your mind.”

You expected him to roll away from you, to retrieve his small clothes and perhaps fall asleep. You certainly felt drowsy enough to do just that. He had to feel it. He’d expended a great deal of energy just then.

But to your surprise, he reached for you, pulled you into his arms and tightened his about you. You smiled, curving against him, and as you lowered your head to his chest, you let your fingers trail through that dark hair sprinkled across it, just as you wished to do. 

“I thought perhaps you would rather not do… this… with me…”

“Why? Do I look mad?” His arm tightened about you. “There is no one else I would rather do this with than you.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face, and your heart leapt at them. You lifted your head to just look down at him. “What?”

“There isn’t. Why would there be?”

“Well…” You hesitated, drew a deep breath, then blurted, “I—I heard you. Talking to Mr. Higgins. In your study. About a week ago. After supper, remember? He’d come to see you?” 

You waited to see a look of horror cross his face, to see a blush sweep along his cheekbones and for him to stammer and stutter and grow angry about you eavesdropping on his business.

Instead, he just stared up at you with confused eyes and shook his head. “I’m lost, love. What do you mean, you heard me? I remember him being there, we were discussing raises for the laborers, but I’m afraid I don’t recall discussing you with him.”

You nodded, unable to bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you focused your finger, tracing circles across his chest. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was bring the post to you and Mr. Higgins was in your study and you were talking and the door was ajar and so I—”

“Love,” he broke in softly, covering her hand with his to still it against him, “breathe before you swoon.”

A nervous laugh came to your lips and without thinking, you tucked your head against him.  “I apologize… John.”

To your surprise, he pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “No need to apologize, but please, tell me what you heard.”

Heat swept through you, only it wasn't the same delicious heat you’d felt when he touched you. This one was far more uncomfortable. “You told him… that is… you were lamenting how you could look me in the eye and tell me you never loved me, that you should have done before the wedding but didn't and now, you couldn’t.”

“I said this?”

You nodded, not looking up, but instead focused your gaze on the hand covering yours, studying the way his long fingers curved perfectly over yours, how right it felt just having him touch you that way. “And you don’t have to worry, Mr. Thorn—John… I didn't expect you to love me.”

He said nothing at first, but eased onto his side to gaze down at you. The hand that had bene covering yours now curved against your cheek, turning your face back to his. You almost could not breathe at the softness in his eyes, at the way his thumb now slid softly along your cheek. 

“You’re wrong, you know,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Those words were not meant for you.”

You stared at him. “What?” 

“Those words. They were not meant for you, but for another.”

“Another suitor?”

He smiled. “In her mind, yes. In mine? No. But, she sent me a missive asking to see me, asking for me to explain to her how I could marry another. But, you needn’t worry, love. I have no desire to be with anyone else.” He leaned in to brush your lips with his, then drew back just far enough to murmur, “All this time, you thought I did?”

“I thought you wished me anywhere but here, that you’d never crossed paths with my father and that you’d had anyone else other than me as your wife.”

You’d held it in for so long, to be able to unburden yourself felt heavenly. At least, it did for a moment. But then you met his gaze, and the intensity of those pale blue eyes made your belly come alive with what felt like a thousand butterflies all flapping their wings at once, which left you breathless and lightheaded at the same time. 

“That is not true,” he murmured, his thumb grazing along your cheekbone. Back and forth. Each sweep made you feel a bit sleepier, a bit more comfortable. He just gazed at you with tender eyes, and smiled. “You are the one I’ve wanted all along, you know. Since the first time I saw you.”

“The first time… Mr. Thornton, we were nine and ten years old.”

“I know.” Now he smiled fully, his eyes searching yours. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Mrs. Thornton.”

“Mrs. Thornton…” Your heart rose, taking your spirits with it. “Wait… so, you are not unhappy about this? About—about us?”

“Not a whit. The only thing I am unhappy about is that it’s taken us this long to actually talk about it. Think of how much of this we could have been doing, had we only talked about it.”

“I thought you hated me because you had another chosen for you.”

“No, love,” he shook his head as he leaned into you, and your toes curled into the cool wood beneath your feet as his lips just brushed yours, “I chose you when I was but a boy. I felt it then and I feel it even more so now. We belong together. We always have. You are my soulmate, darling. It was providence that your father could help, and with that help, the mills will remain up and running, hopefully for generations to come. And one day soon, god willing, we will have a son to take over when the time comes. At least one, but hopefully many, many more.”

Your toes curled at those words, even as you said, “But you were angry about having to accept that help.”

“At first, yes, but not for the reason you think. Pride can be a double-edged sword, you know, and swallowing it can hurt, even if doing so is for the best. But know this, I am not unhappy at having to share my bed with you. You’re quite the vixen, you know. And that makes John a lucky man. A lucky man, indeed.”

“John!”

He winked. “I do like how that sounds.” He brushed your lips with his once more and added, “I love you, you know.”

“I do now,” you whispered back, curving your hand against his cheek. “I love you, too, John.”

“Then we have a bit of lost time to make up for, don’t we?” 

A wink accompanied his words and you felt it to the center of your being. He bent over you once more, his lips moving softly against yours and as he kissed you so thoroughly, so sweetly. He carefully eased himself over you once more and as his kiss deepened further, you wound your arms about his neck to hold him tighter against you. 

~~**~~

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[diyiskindofmyjam]

Adventures in... lingerie making?

Yeah so at some point I thought, you know what I'm going to do instead of studying for my finals? Bra sewing. So I took a deep dive into bra patterns, underwires, lace and elastic.

There are a few patterns so many people rave about online, the Harriet bra, the Black Beauty bra, the Marlborough bra etc. There are so many small pattern companies specialised in lingerie patterns and it was a little intimidating when choosing one. They're also not cheap. A bra pattern is easily 15-20$ and I get why, but I'm a little cheap when it comes to patterns. This is however not a project I wanted to draft my own cups for. The Maya bra is a free pattern, but it's not a style of bra I wear often.

I don't have big boobs (I wear a 65D/30D) and like, a lot of the home-sewing bra patterns offer a lot of coverage and support. Which is great! But it's not what I wanted. So when I saw this nice plunging/push-up bra pattern, and people online were like "it's not a beginner friendly, buy when you have some bra-making experience" I went like "that sounds like a perfect pattern for me, a beginner". Of course I bought the paper pattern of the Merckwaerdigh PBH30. And the Cambia bra pattern because it intrigued me.

Then it was time to get lost in all the kinds of elastics and fabrics I would need. I caved and just bought a bra kit; shipping prices can variable and I didn't like the kits the Dutch sites offered. I did however like this black lace set by smallbobbins.be.

And then I started on a test bra, made out of some cotton voile and purple lace and lycra I had in my fabric stash. I had such a hard time with the instructions; even though they're available in mine and Merckweardigh's native language, this pattern is very... ehm brief in the instructions. Thank the gods for the wayback machine and clothing engineer's tutorial on how to insert the removable padding pocket. After that things made way more sense, but I still wrote my own instructions + illustrations (message me if you're interested). I decided halfway through my mock up, that I felt confident enough and that I would make a 'mock up' out of the bra set. I used a different piece of bra tule that was included (it was a shade lighter). The cup pieces were so small that I suspected I could make at least 2 bra's out of it if I threw some strap elastic, rings and sliders in that I already had in my stash. I ripped the hook and eye closure of a too small bra and reused it.

I made the B70, like the measurements table told me to do. I allowed myself some experimenting with a one-piece lace cup fabric (not my fave look). It went pretty well! Until I used a zigzag stitch to topstitch the power mesh to the picot elastic and the black thread on the beige power mesh showed all the missed stitches of my machine. It's not pretty at all. I hate ripping out seams that are positioned well, but I do want to redo this after I do some much needed maintenance and timing management on my machine, before I start zigzagging my 'official' version of the bra.

The wires, even though they're push up wires, are a little too big, but I've ordered shorter ones.

To mine and everybody's surprise, (no really, I was really surprised), the cups are... too small? Yeah not sure how that happened. I might be on my period, but even those measurements fall neatly in the "84-86 cm" measurement for the B70 cup. I'm not totally spilling over, but it's noticeable enough that some of my breast tissue is not in the cup before I did the swoop. Adding the little padding 'cookies' for some volume is making the problem a little worse. So I guess that means I'm making a C70 for my 'official' bra.

[breakfast-at-timothys]

Metro-Land is a slogan first coined by the Metropolitan Railway in about 1915, for promotional purposes; and later used as the title of a BBC documentary celebrating suburban life that grew up in the early 20th century around the Metropolitan Railway in the area north-east of London.

The documentary was made in 1973. It lasted some 50 minutes and featured a narration, partly in verse, by then Poet Laureate, Sir John Betjeman; his commentary, interwoven with black-and-white film shot from a Metropolitan Railway train in 1910.

Betjeman, whose sexuality can best be described as bisexual, was educated at Marlborough and later Magdalen College, Oxford. He had friendships with both W.H. Auden and Lord Alfred 'Bosie' Douglas (of Oscar Wilde fame). Whilst at Oxford, he famously brought his teddy bear, Archibald Ormsby-Gore, up to Magdalen with him; the memory of which inspired his Oxford contemporary, Evelyn Waugh, to include Sebastian Flyte's teddy, Aloysius, in Brideshead Revisited.

For the serious devotees of tradition: the Harrow School Song is heard accompanying scenes filmed in the School, and scenes showing one of Harrow's stained-glass windows also appear, to the accompaniment of 'The Sunny Side of the Street'.

Always time for one more tradition: 'Tit Willow' is played during scenes showing Grim's Dyke at Harrow Weald: the place where W.S. Gilbert (of Gilbert and Sullivan fame), tragically drowned in a pond in 1911. 'Tit Willow', being a song from Mikado (by Gilbert and Sullivan). Its use in the documentary as an ironic reference to Gilbert's unfortunate misadventure is clear: ('He slapped at his chest, as he sat on that bough, Singing “Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow”, And a cold perspiration bespangled his brow, Oh, willow, tit-willow, tit-willow, He sobbed and he sighed, and a gurgle he gave, Then he plunged himself into the billowy wave).

*

Metroland (Betjeman):

Harrow-on-the-Hill:

WHEN melancholy Autumn comes to Wembley And electric trains are lighted after tea The poplars near the Stadium are trembly With their tap and tap and whispering to me, Like the sound of little breakers Spreading out along the surf-line When the estuary’s filling With the sea.

Then Harrow-on-the-Hill’s a rocky island And Harrow churchyard full of sailors’ graves And the constant click and kissing of the trolley buses hissing Is the level to the Wealdstone turned to waves And the rumble of the railway Is the thunder of the rollers As they gather up for plunging Into caves.

There’s a storm cloud to the westward over Kenton, There’s a line of harbour lights at Perivale, Is it rounding rough Pentire in a flood of sunset fire The little fleet of trawlers under sail? Can those boats be only roof tops As they stream along the skyline In a race for port and Padstow With the gale?

*

Baker Street Station Buffet:

Early Electric! With what radiant hope Men formed this many-branched electrolier, Twisted the flex around the iron rope And let the dazzling vacuum globes hang clear, And then with hearts the rich contrivance fill’d Of copper, beaten by the Bromsgrove Guild.

Early Electric! Sit you down and see, ‘Mid this fine woodwork and a smell of dinner, A stained-glass windmill and a pot of tea, And sepia views of leafy lanes in Pinner – Then visualize, far down the shining lines, Your parents’ homestead set in murmuring pines.

Smoothly from Harrow, passing Preston Road, They saw the last green fields and misty sky, At Neasden watched a workmen’s train unload, And, with the morning villas sliding by, They felt so sure on their electric trip That Youth and Progress were in partnership.

And all that day in murky London Wall The thought of Ruislip kept him warm inside; At Farringdon that lunch hour at a stall He bought a dozen plants of London Pride; While she, in arc-lit Oxford Street adrift, Soared through the sales by safe hydraulic lift.

Early Electric! Maybe even here They met that evening at six-fifteen Beneath the hearts of this electrolier And caught the first non-stop to Willesden Green, Then out and on, through rural Rayner’s Lane To autumn-scented Middlesex again.

Cancer has killed him. Heart is killing her. The trees are down. An Odeon flashes fire Where stood their villa by the murmuring fir When ”they would for their children’s good conspire.” Of their loves and hopes on hurrying feet Thou art the worn memorial, Baker Street

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Ben Smart and Olivia Hope: New Year’s Murders

Ben Smart and Olivia Hope, two young New Zealanders, disappeared in the early hours of the morning on New Year's Day, 1 January 1998. The two friends had been celebrating on New Year's Eve at Furneaux Lodge in the Marlborough Sounds with 1500–2000 other partygoers.  

 Hope had travelled to the lodge with a group on a chartered yacht, Tamarack, while Smart had arrived separately. At about 4:00 a.m., lodge bartender Guy Wallace drove Hope and Smart in his water taxi to Tamarack, where the pair intended to sleep. When Hope and Smart found there were no vacant berths remaining aboard Tamarack, they re-boarded Wallace's water-taxi. At the time, Wallace had three other passengers on board: Hayden Morresey, Sarah Dyer, and a single man who would become crucial to the police investigation. The single man offered the pair a place to sleep on what he said was his yacht. Wallace let Smart and Hope off with the single man at the yacht, and then dropped off the two other passengers at their bach. This was the last time Smart and Hope were seen alive.

Ben Smart and Olivia Hope were reported missing on 2 January 1998. Initially the Blenheim police treated the investigation as a missing-persons case, but it soon became apparent that the disappearance was suspicious and out of character for the duo. The investigation was named "Operation TAM" (short for Tamarack) and generated widespread interest from the public and media. The investigation was large in scope, featuring requests for information from the public, significant amounts of interviews across the country and months of extensive searches of the waters surrounding the Endeavour Inlet. Despite this, no bodies were ever found. 

With little to go on, police began trying to determine the identity of the unknown or 'mystery' man that offered Ben and Olivia a place to sleep on his boat. Police claimed that there were a number of descriptions of Scott Watson earlier in the night that were similar to descriptions of the unknown man. These descriptions depicted Watson as having a scruffy look that night, saying he had wavy hair, and needed a shave/haircut. However, a photograph of Watson, taken on the Mina Cornelia yacht where he partied before heading to Furneaux Lodge, shows him clean-shaven with short hair. ]Police quickly focused their investigation on Watson. Later in the investigation, Pope would say that Watson "stood out like dog's balls" and "had the right sort of agenda and pedigree", apparently referring to his criminal record. Watson had 48 criminal convictions at the time, mainly from when he was a teenager for burglary, theft, cannabis offences, two counts of possessing an offensive weapon and one for assault when he was 16. He had been imprisoned for two short periods in 1989 and 1990. Watson had seemingly reformed in his twenties, having just one conviction in the eight years leading up to 1998.

Water taxi driver Guy Wallace told police and the media that he had dropped Smart and Hope off at wooden ketch with two masts. He described the ketch as well-maintained, built of timber, with a thick blue stripe on the hull, and several round portholes with brass surrounds. Watson's boat, Blade, was very different to the one Wallace described; it was a 26 feet long, steel sloop with one mast, no portholes and did not have a blue strip. Witness to these events, Hayden Morresey, told the court that the boat he saw Olivia and Ben get on to with the unidentified man was not Watson's sloop, Blade. Police analysed thousands of photos taken on New Year's Eve and interviewed all of the boat skippers there but were unable to corroborate Wallace's reports of a ketch in the Endeavour Inlet that night. 

At the trial, the Crown also claimed that Police eliminated every one of the other 176 yachts identified in the vicinity at the time as the vessel which the two victims boarded after being dropped off by Guy Wallace's water taxi. Detective Pope stated that the police were fairly certain the ketch did not exist. However, a number of witnesses who came forward with sightings of a two masted ketch said their statements were not followed up or were told their information was not wanted. Former detective Mike Chappell, who worked on the case, later claimed officers were told not to follow up sightings of two-masted ketches. 

Despite the initial publicity and search for a two masted ketch, the police seized Watson's comparatively small sloop, Blade, and from then on focussed their investigation on him. Writing in North & South, investigative reporter Mike White said: "A public demonisation of Watson began, with police often doing little to stop rumours about him that began swirling". Rumours about the Watson family began to swirl in the small town of Picton, as well as in national media. Police obtained warrants to tap the phone lines of Watson and his associates from February until his arrest, an investigation known as "Operation Celt". Police recorded 70-plus hours of Watson's phone conversations and persuaded his former girlfriend to ask him potentially incriminating questions. At his trial, the jury heard 40 minutes of edited conversations. Watson was described by a police representative as "smug" during these conversations, but never said anything to indicate he was involved.

 Later, Watson would accuse police of influencing media coverage of the case suggesting he was guilty; he said the police followed and intimidated members of his family and alleged he had had an incestuous relationship with his sister. Gerald Hope, Olivia's father, has also asserted that the police deliberately leaked details of Watson's criminal history and were responsible for the unsubstantiated suggestions of incest. 

Guy Wallace also said he felt tremendous pressure from police and the media. He was interrogated by the detectives from Christchurch CIB who suggested he was somehow responsible for the disappearance of Hope and Smart. As a result of accusations against him by the police, some locals began treating him with suspicion. People he knew began to think he was guilty and shunned him. He said that in the initial stages of the investigation, the police were desperate to arrest someone, and it could easily have been him: "I know in my heart of hearts, if he [Scott] wasn't in there, I'd be doing time. It's just that simple." When the police turned their focus on to Watson, they showed him Scott Watson's photo at least three times. Each time he said Watson was not the mystery man he had served drinks to at Furneaux Lodge. In 2007, Wallace told investigative journalist Mike White: "I feel I've been shafted by the cops. As far as I'm concerned, Scott's innocent, always has been."

In 2015, Wallace told Stuff that for years afterwards, he was haunted by his involvement with the case, and that he felt responsible for sending Watson to prison. He said the case had a "huge impact" on his life. In March 2021, he died in a suspected suicide.

]On 20 April 1998, Wallace was shown a photo montage containing eight different shots. In one of these shots, Scott had his eyes half closed in the middle of blinking. The unidentified man on the water taxi had been described as having 'hooded eyes'. Based on this "blink" photograph, Wallace picked Watson as the single man on the water taxi. So did Roz McNeilly, the bar manager who had served drinks to the unknown man at Furneaux Lodge. Neither Wallace or McNeilly were shown the photograph of Scott Watson, taken on the Mina Cornelia yacht which shows him clean-shaven with short hair. Based on these identifications, Watson was arrested for the murders in the early hours of 15 June 1998, about five months after the pair were reported missing. Subsequently, both Wallace and McNeilly recanted and stated the police deceived them with the blink photo

Watson was convicted of the murders in September 1999 after an eleven-week trial and sentenced to life imprisonment with a minimum non-parole period of seventeen years. Watson told the jury "You're wrong" when the verdict was read out in court. In 2015 he said he never met Ben or Olivia and has continued to insist he is innocent since conviction.