#dinner cruise auckland

[sailsunnkiss307]

Top Auckland Cruises for 2022-2023

Auckland is a big gorgeous metropolitan city in the north of New Zealand. Auckland is the fifth-largest city in Oceania and one of the most populated urban cities in New Zealand. Moreover, Auckland is situated between 2 large harbours, which open at two major bodies of water. Auckland stretches across a small isthmus that joins Manukau Harbour in the Tasman Sea and Waitemata Harbour in the Pacific Ocean.

If you are an Auckland resident looking for a getaway for relaxation and enjoyment or a tourist visiting Auckland looking for outdoor activities or exploring different cities, their food, art and culture, then Auckland, New Zealand is the place.

A cruise from Auckland is a great way to enjoy the natural beauty and do outdoor activities while exploring different cities, their food, art and culture on your vacation. Additionally, while sailing with Auckland cruises, you may take advantage of stunning beaches, hiking paths, and a dozen charming islands with magnificent landscapes while savouring delectable cuisine served by trained and qualified chefs.

Cruises from Auckland And Their Itineraries

Auckland Harbour Lunch Cruise

Duration - 4 Hrs

Time - 1 PM to 5 PM

Price - NZ $190 PP

Discover your pleasure as you travel through the famed Waitemata for a lavish vacation. With Auckland Harbour Lunch Cruise, enjoy the day with outdoor fishing, swimming mid of the sea, snorkelling, and kayaking, combined with a lunch prepared by a talented chef while watching wild dolphins and orcas. Bring the wine and beverages of your choice. A complete bar is also accessible at very low and affordable prices.

Auckland Harbour Dinner Cruise - Sunset Gourmet

Duration - 4 Hrs

Time - 5 PM to 9 PM

Price - NZ $150 PP

As you travel beneath the harbour bridge while on an Auckland Harbour Cruise, you will have an unrestricted view of Devonport's historic cityscape. Enjoy a delicious meal cooked and presented in a beautiful setting from the certified and experienced chefs of Auckland Harbour Dinner Cruise.

Private Motuihe Island Auckland Cruise

Duration - 7-8 Hrs

Price - NZ $1800-2900 PP

To every shade! The island way of life tempts. While en route to Motuhie Island, you’ll be docking in a charming harbour and spend the day enjoying the ocean and fun activities. With Private Auckland Charter, find your bliss as you will sail through the legendary Waitemata while enjoying picturesque sceneries, wild dolphins & orcas, and delicious New Zealand cuisine lunch freshly made by our experienced chefs.

So what are you waiting for? Book your cruise from Auckland to enjoy the most amazing memories of your lifetime.

#dinner cruise auckland #boat cruise dinner auckland #overnight cruise auckland

[cinimon01]

Mai Tai experience 2024

Adventures of 60 somethings on board a catamaran.

On the 31st of January 2024, we became the proud owners of a Lagoon 400 2010 model, located in Opua New Zealand.

On the 27th of February, after a few family engagements, we flew to Auckland and drove 3 hours to Opua Marina, gathering some simple supplies on the way. I felt so cold and exhausted when we arrived that I nearly cried at the thought of living on this small, damp and smelly boat for the next 5 years. What had we done, we had a perfectly good life in a house. Why why why?

The next day was better.

28th February 2024, we sorted out a few things and organized a few others. Where to put clothes, towels, and did we have enough. Sheets were on board, but I threw most out as they were thin and barley reuseable. I started a list of things to but for us and the boat to be comfortable and livable for the next…..years?

So first trip in our hire car to Whangarei, (Pronounced Foneray) we found Spotlight, Countdown, Kmart and Bunnings. We loaded up and drove the 1 hour back to Opua.

1st March 2024: Next day we though we would take her for a spin and charge batteries and empty the black water tank, (the wee and poo tank). So we got out to open water and came into the bay of Russell. Lovely little spot but the anchor wouldn’t go down, so I suggested David just drive around and Ill cook breakfast/brunch.

So we did that and headed back to the marina. On our approach, on an outgoing tide, she was hard to handle. The birth spot was big enough for a catamaran but not big enough for us to park in with our limited experience and a tide that wanted to push us where we did not want to go. So I am running around the deck shouting directions to David. More like, “STOP, YOUR GOING TO HIT THE WHARF”. More things like, “Oh what the FUCK, we are going to crash”. Came out of my mouth on several occasions. We had the neighbours, folk from boats near us, on the dock along with the harbor master Shane. He was speaking calmly to David about pulling back and not so heavy on the power, but I don’t think he could hear him over my screaming, “We are going to crash.”

Yes we hit the dock and crushed our port side sugar scoop with an indent of about 25cm long and 10cm deep. Not too much damage to the boat but our self esteem was shattered, and I was a nervous wreck. One of our neighbours from a boat named Scallywag, was on the dock to console us. He had just had a similar experience and the tide pushed him into the bow spirt of another boat punching a hole in the side of his 50 ft catamaran…..Ouch.

2nd March 2024: Olly the previous owner came by and he sorted out the windlass, (anchor) not working problem. He said he cleaned up some loose wiring and maybe some got lost in the process and he unplugged the windlass. Not sure but he got it going and answered a lot of David's questions. We told him about our encounter with the dock and he said, “You know what they say, “You haven’t been around if you haven’t run aground”. I’m not sure if that made me feel better but, there you have it.

3rd March 2024: We gathered up our torn confidence and broken dreams decided we had to get back on the horse….so to speak. So out we went for another attempt at having fun on our new boat. This time we dropped the anchor in Russell, and I just put the kettle on when the afternoon storm that was expected at 1pm came early and interrupted our 10am brunch. So up came the anchor and we headed back to the marina. Before we even arrived my stress levels were off the chart. But we listened to Shane and came in on a slack tide and we managed to berth Mai Tai without incident. This was cause for celebration, so we had a shower and went into Paihia for dinner and a bottle of wine.

8th March 2024: Flew back to Sydney for my 60th birthday cruise on board Celebrity Edge to …..of all places, New Zealand. During this cruise we saw parts of the South Island and the sounds that were absolutely breath taking. The enormity of these places that we could now explore in our own boat! So we decided to skip the Rally to Fiji this year and explore New Zealand for 12 months. Plus we are not experienced enough in operating our boat yet. We need time and some nautical miles before we conquer open water.

#first time cruising #catamarans #sailing retirees #first year on a boat

[askwhatsforlunch]

Dinner For Ava

My girl treated me to a splendid day of mesmerising geothermal walks, taking the waters and being pampered at two different spas and a delicious dinner, her anniversary gift for me, and how I loved it! (Mine to her, was a sunset dinner cruise on a sailboat in Auckland; which she loved!) But my love language remains food, I think. Cooking (and mixing cocktails) for people who are dear to me brings me even more joy than when I'm "only" cooking for myself. So here's a Dinner For Ava, tipples and dishes I've made for her, or inspired by her! Feel free to pick anything you like on the menu and try your hand at it!

Cocktails

Mr. Butler’s Phryne 

Pretty in Pink 

The Ava 

Between the Sheets 

Hors d'Oeuvres

Mrs. Butler’s Salmon Petits Bateaux 

Mrs. Butler’s Chicken and Chives Petits Bateaux 

Entrées

Vichyssoise 

Pièces de Résistance

Lemon Roast Cockerel 

Spring Courgette Pasta (Vegetarian)

Asparagus and Smoked Salmon Spaghetti 

Hot Burrata Margherita (Vegetarian)

Desserts

Manuka Honey and Brandy Chocolate Mousse 

Lemon Soufflés 

Manuka Honey Passionfruit Possets 

Manuka Mango, Strawberry and Banana Fruit Salad 

Hokey Pokey Ice Cream

#Recipe #Recipes #Food #Dinner For Ava #Dinner For Ava Recipe List #Date Night #Date Night Dinner #Date Night recipes #Date Night Dinner recipes #Cocktails #Appetizers #Entrées #Main Course #Pièce de Résistance #Dessert #Ice Cream #Recipe List #Recipe Box

[railnewzealand]

Experience the Vibrant Wonders of Auckland: A Traveler's Delight

Embarking on a journey through the heart of New Zealand's North Island, I found myself captivated by the myriad experiences Auckland had to offer. Teeming with natural wonders, cultural treasures, and adrenaline-pumping adventures, Auckland proved to be a haven for travelers seeking diverse experiences. Here are ten of the most unforgettable moments from my Auckland escapade:

Kayaking to Rangitoto Island:

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of crimson and gold across the sky, I embarked on a mesmerizing kayak journey to Rangitoto Island. This dormant volcanic cone, a stone's throw away from the city, unveiled its rugged beauty as I paddled through the tranquil waters. Arriving at the island, I savored a delightful BBQ against the backdrop of nature's grandeur, a memory etched forever in my heart.

Immersing in Art and Culture:

Delving into Auckland's rich tapestry of art and culture, I embarked on a soul-stirring journey at the Auckland War Memorial Museum. Here, the vibrant narratives of Māori history and traditions unfolded, offering profound insights into New Zealand's cultural heritage. The Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, a sanctuary of creativity, mesmerized me with its eclectic blend of modern and traditional masterpieces, igniting my passion for artistic expression.

Conquering Heights at the Sky Tower:

Seeking an adrenaline rush, I embraced the thrill of free-fall with a SkyJump from the iconic Sky Tower. Suspended 192 meters above ground level, I felt an exhilarating surge of adrenaline as I descended towards the vibrant cityscape below. For those craving more heart-pounding adventures, Auckland's skyline beckons with opportunities to walk the edge or bungee into the Waitemata Harbour, promising an epic adrenaline rush like no other.

Whale Safari in the Hauraki Gulf:

Venturing into the pristine waters of the Hauraki Gulf, I embarked on a mesmerizing whale safari, where every wave held the promise of encountering rare marine marvels. From playful dolphins to majestic whales, the Gulf's azure expanse teemed with life, offering a glimpse into nature's untamed beauty. Whether savoring a luxury dinner cruise or racing aboard an America's Cup yacht, the maritime adventures were nothing short of spectacular.

Stargazing on Great Barrier Island:

Amidst the velvety darkness of the night sky, I embarked on a celestial odyssey on Great Barrier Island. Designated as an International Dark Sky Sanctuary, this pristine haven unveiled a mesmerizing tapestry of stars, casting a spell of wonder and awe. Hiking through lush native forests or basking in the serenity of Medlands Beach, each moment on this enchanted island was imbued with a sense of magic.

Indulging in Matakana's Farmers' Market:

Wandering through the vibrant stalls of Matakana's Farmers' Market, I immersed myself in a cornucopia of flghavors and aromas. From organic produce to artisanal delicacies, each offering was a testament to the region's culinary prowess. Nestled amidst picturesque landscapes, this culinary haven offered a taste of the local gastronomic delights, leaving me craving for more.

Wine Tasting on Waiheke Island:

A short ferry ride transported me to the enchanting shores of Waiheke Island, renowned as the 'island of wine.' Amidst rolling vineyards and azure waters, I embarked on a sensory journey, sampling exquisite wines and indulging in gourmet delights. As the sun caressed the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold, I reveled in the island's tranquility, savoring each moment of blissful indulgence.

Exploring West Auckland's Rugged Beaches:

With the salty breeze in my hair and the sound of crashing waves as my soundtrack, I embarked on a coastal odyssey through West Auckland's rugged beaches. From the dramatic cliffs of Muriwai Beach to the legendary surf breaks of Piha, each vista was a testament to nature's raw beauty. Whether exploring gannet colonies or simply basking in the serenity of Karekare, every moment was a celebration of nature's untamed splendor.

Relaxing with Glamping Getaways:

Seeking refuge from the hustle and bustle of city life, I retreated to the tranquil haven of Castaways Resort on the Āwhitu Peninsula. Here, amidst luxurious tents and epic sea views, I indulged in a myriad of leisurely pursuits, from archery to clay bird shooting. As the day melted into night, I found myself gazing at the star-studded sky, grateful for the serenity of this coastal paradise.

Journeying with the Northern Explorer Train Service:

For a scenic and comfortable journey to Auckland, I opted for the Northern Explorer Train Service, a delightful way to soak in the breathtaking landscapes of New Zealand's North Island. Traversing through lush forests, rolling hills, and picturesque valleys, the train offered a front-row seat to the region's natural splendor. With cozy cabins and panoramic windows, the Northern Explorer transformed my commute into an unforgettable adventure, setting the stage for an unforgettable Auckland experience.

In conclusion, Auckland's kaleidoscope of experiences transcends the ordinary, offering a tapestry of adventures to suit every traveler's whim. From kayaking to volcanic islands to indulging in wine tastings on sun-kissed shores, each moment in Auckland is a testament to the city's boundless charm. So, pack your bags and embark on a journey of discovery, for Auckland awaits with open arms, ready to unveil its treasures to the world.

#VisitAuckland #auckland

[thekingoftravel]

Australia, New Zealand

A trip of a lifetime!

Imagine - leaving on a flight for 2 days to get to Australia. Either arriving directly into Sydney (or Melbourne)! You might have a different flight going through Auckland, but nevertheless, you're arriving into Melbourne!

Arrive into Melbourne and relax before we get you onto a whirlwind trip through Australia and New Zealand!

Start off in Melbourne, journey to the outback, explore the Uluru, hot air balloon trip, the rain forest cableway, Eco Lodge in Kurunda.

Cruise the Great Barrier Reef, Sydney Opera House, do a cruise of the harbor, fun on the "rocks" in Sydney -

Let's move on to New Zealand, like the Wellington, the Marlborough Sounds, Dinner with the Warbirds, See Queenstown, Milford Sound, Jetboat through Skipper Canyons, See Waiheke Island, hang with the Maori. Much more to mention.

Catch that long, some say dreadful (LOL) flight home!

Ready to go?

We have just the right tour on the "Grand Australia and New Zealand" tour with Tauck.

Come along. Let's get you onboard! Questions? Email us on the contact page of our website.

Let's go!

#australia #newzealand #taucktours

[angeli-marco-writes]

Bucky Barnes - False God

A/N & WC - I think this was requested as a blurb for an event that closed a couple months ago, but I liked the idea so wove it into another concept I'd had, and this happened. I don't own the character of Bucky Barnes, nor do I claim to. Please remember that the views I write aren't always my own and that I don't condone these actions, specifically big age gap relationships and underage drinking. This is, first and foremost, a work of fiction. 8.3k.

Warnings - Family friend!Neighbour!suburban!artist!Bucky, pet names, age gap relationship (reader is 20), underage drinking, fake ID, creep in the bar, Bucky being protective, smut: thigh riding, boob play, mutual masturbation. 18+

Summary - Your plans to rile Mr Barnes up backfire, but you might just get away with it. Religion's in your lips, and Mr Barnes is New York City.

‘Just docked in Auckland! Are you keeping the house clean? Is Mr Barnes checking in? NO PARTIES! Text back ASAP!’

You throw your phone across the room the second it buzzes, interrupting your jam to Taylor Swift. When your parents went away on a four month, worldwide cruise, the last thing you expected was a text from them at every single port reminding you to clean the house and cook nutritious meals and not leave laundry lying around. Nothing about how much they miss you, if at all. The closest they got to that was telling you from Bangkok not to have a big party to fill the ‘parent-sized hole’ in the house. As if. Mr Barnes is company enough, and he pops over every few nights with fresh groceries or a new book, just to stop you from getting deathly bored. It’s been over a month, and other than commutes to college, he’s the only face you’ve seen. And a bloody gorgeous one, too. His check ins have been the highlight of your time in the new house. And, though you’d never outwardly confess it, he played a big part in your choice of an in-state college rather than another New England school, despite his promise to visit. He never had to, because he always saw you for bi-weekly dinners with your parents during term time, and now in the holidays, he’s been left ‘in charge’ of you. What a joke, even he knows you don’t need minding, which is why his visits are fleeting. But something tells you that’s not the only reason.

You finish swiping on red lipstick and adjust your LBD. Alexa turns off your music, halting right in the middle of False God. I still do it for you, babe. All that’s left to do is slip your phone into the hidden pocket of your dress and buckle up your heels.

You double check the house one last time, locking the door as you leave. Your house is tucked up a crescent that’s virtually just grass. Off the track are driveways enough for two cars, but space between houses is just lawn, to the point you share a yard with three other houses, including Mr Barnes’.

His is the smallest house on the crescent since he lives alone, but the cottage he swells in is by far the cutest home around, from it’s trimmed garden to florally-adorned porch. It’s a typical 1920s cottage with a dark-wood door and interior design, including the banister. It’s quintessential of Mr Barnes, and though you’ve only been in there a couple times, it’s homely.

You walk up the path, tottering in your heels, and step by the porch swing. Mr Barnes opens the door after a single knock, his tight, layered shirts rolled up to his elbows, displaying his single muscular forearm.

“Y/N!” he says cheerfully, meeting your eyes, but a frown appears on his face when he glances down at your outfit. “Good to see… so much of you.”

You smirk to yourself, his reaction the one you desired. “I was heading out into the city for drinks with some friends… Am I allowed?”

“To drink? No, you’re underage.”

His arms fold over his chest, accentuating the muscles rippling beneath.

“Mr Barnes, I’m just meeting some college friends,” you lie, cocking your head to the side and batting your lashes enticingly, “please?”

He rolls his eyes, and you begin to bounce on your feet, one hand coming up to grip the door frame. Led by blind faith.

“Only if you let me drive you, and let me wait until your friends arrive. I’m your guardian for the time being, I’m responsible for you. I’ll collect you at midnight, as well, and stay in the city just in case.”

“Mr Barnes—” you protest, pouting like a child. This was not the outcome you desired.

“Bucky, c’mon.”

“Fine, Bucky. You don’t have to treat me like I’m five. I am an adult.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, unfolding his arms to grab his leather jacket from the coat hook, “and you’re sure acting like it now. If you wanna go into the city to meet your friends, I will drive you there and back. Yes?”

Fuck. This is gonna backfire, and now you’ll still worship, and you might just get away with it. “Yes, Bucky.”

His car keys are in his hands a second later. “You’re wearing my jacket,” he then warns, “that boob-tube is unacceptable. You know what men are like.”

The warmth of his flesh hand bleeds into you from his hold on the small of your back. You want to shrug him off, prove you’re capable of walking to the car on your own, but it’s comforting. He opens and closes your door before sidling into the driver's seat and handing you the aux.

“Do you want me to stay closeby?” he asks, his voice tender, worried.

“What? No. Why would I?”

“In case anyone tries to pick on you and your friends. In case a man tries to spike your drink. In case a man comes too close. C’mon, doll,” his voice drops to a clandestine whisper, “I wish I could change all men, make them better people, but I can’t and I just want you safe.”

His heart is in the right place, as per, so you indulge him as Taylor Swift starts to play over the speakers.

“I’ll think about it.”

----

The drive is spent in relative silence while Bucky expertly navigates the backstreets of your suburb and out onto the highway until you approach the city. The navigation reads him the directions from there. Every now and again he turns his head towards you, his blue eyes catching on something, but the intrigue in him seems to have evaporated by the time you meet his gaze.

“Doll, why did you choose the lower east side? Are you sure you’re gonna be safe?”

“Um, yeah?” you say, albeit naively, because with his worry and, well, the fact you're a young woman, you can’t be too sure. “It’s convenient, close to the Williamsburg Bridge. You can wait with me if you want, though.”

“Just lemme find somewhere to park…” he trails off, strained, his eyes focussed on the road, his forehead lined, “this place is a goddamn slalom.”

“What’s a slalom?”

He deigns to face you, surprise pulling at his stubble-dusted cheeks as his metal hand controls the wheel. “An English major at NYU and you don’t know what a slalom is? You’re proper West Village.”

Whether you’re affronted or complimented you can’t be sure. Was it a compliment, an insult or a statement? Yes, NYU is right next to Greenwich, but you know… stuff.

“Well did you even go to college, Mr Barnes?” you challenge defiantly, enjoying watching his patience slip as he winds past honking yellow taxis into a side street just a five minute walk to the bar you claimed to be meeting your friends at. Maybe they’ll still turn up after you hectically texted them just after leaving Mr Barnes’ house. Doubtful.

“I attended Auburndale Art School in the thirties,” he announces, melancholy laced in every syllable. The car stalls, and the world hurries on outside your little bubble. “Graduated accelerated, first class with honours. Where do you think all the art in my house comes from?”

“You did all that?” Astonishment dizzies you as his home spins around your mind. Landscapes and contemporary pieces are in his hallway, kitchen and living room, framed and on canvas. You knew he did art, he always had a sketchpad and a pencil around, and you saw an easel that one time you slept over when you got locked out and your parents wouldn’t let you in. “Fuck, Mr Barnes, you’re incredible!”

“Well I’d better be,” he jokes, absently swearing at someone through the window, “because if my art didn’t sell then I wouldn’t be able to afford a place in the suburbs.”

“You could always live with me,” you blurt out, feeling his body temperature rise in the small vehicle. “Heaven knows my parents don’t give one, and I could do with the help.”

He chuckles again, but it’s not all in mirth, not as his flesh hand clasps around your thigh, sending electricity shocking throughout your every neuron. How does he always elicit such a reaction from a simple move?

“Maybe I’ll move in for the next three months, keep you in line, Doll.”

We might just get away with it. Religion’s in your lips.

“Or I could move in with you and just clean the house top to bottom before they get home?”

His lithe tongue darts out from between his lips, swiping over his upper lip and then his lower before it slips back in, before his arm finds its way around your shoulders, his darkening eyes honed in on your every precise move.

“As long as I have you all to myself doll. I might be able to teach you a thing or two about how to close your curtains…” ohhhh fuck. Your thighs clench involuntarily. “Or about how to hang laundry. Or how to use a lawnmower. Your domesticity is pitiful: I’m a man from the war era and I still know how to correctly iron linens.”

“Show off, you.”

He resumes laughing, deep and honeyed, feigning pain when you nudge him, only to dissolve into more laughter to match your giggles. He clicks open his door and slips, agile, around the side, opening your door and passing you the jacket.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s see if your friends arrive.”

He takes a vice grip on your wrist and hoists you up to the point your feet are barely on the ground. He then wraps his flesh arm around your waist, and uses his metal one to wave the traffic around the two of you until you reach the sidewalk on the street where the bar is. Even when he puts you down your heart doesn’t stop racing, your chest doesn’t stop tightening, your core doesn’t stop fluttering. He lifted you and carried you across the road like you were as light as a feather. Holy grief…

“Hand,” he demands.

“What?”

“Hand. You’re holding my hand before someone kidnaps you.” you arch a single brow at him, already knowing that pedestrians are going to be pissed at you for holding up New York walking traffic even in an evening. “I don’t trust men and I don’t trust you in the city.”

“You’re a man. Why should I trust you?”

Pain briefly flickers over his face before he realises you’re joking, exhaling as he seizes your hand with his flesh one and twines your fingers. He should know you trust him: he has a key to your home which he can use at any time, and he’s even used it before while you were asleep because he needed a cooking ingredient. He’s the trusted adult you turn to in times of need. How could he doubt himself? They all warned us about times like this.

“This is it,” you say after a few minutes of walking down the street hand in hand. “You can go now. I’m sure you have plans.”

“Doll, have you ever known me to do anything with anyone?”

You lean back against the wall of the establishment, thinking. That’s a good point actually. He’s a damn recluse. You’ve seen him with a nice man named Sam a couple times, but that’s been when you’ve taken sick days, and possibly with some girl you vaguely recall being called Rebecca at some point, but no. He rarely ever has company other than the neighbours, which is more of a courtesy than a friendship.

“Fair point, Mr Barnes.”

“Bucky. Call me Bucky. My name is Bucky, not Mr Barnes.”

“Sorry,” you say meekly, and shoot him an apologetic glance that you hope he catches in the dusk light closing in, tinged pink, on Manhattan. The silhouette of the skyscrapers looks heavenly, stars twinkling above, but you can barely see it all through the clouds of pollution that invade ninety percent of the sky. “My friends should be here soon.”

“No rush, doll.”

If you’re West Village, Bucky is New York City, and as he leans against you, his arm brushing mine, you don’t care whether or not your friends come… to the unconfirmed plans.

But then five minutes pass. And ten. Bucky hoists you up with one arm and sits you on his strong shoulders when he sees you’re struggling to stand in your heels. He says nothing to start a conversation, so you don’t either, and just thread your fingers through his dark locks. But then it’s been fifteen minutes. Twenty. And you don’t know what else to do.

Your cheeks flare, burning with an embarrassment that has you stumbling over your words and purposely avoiding his eyes when he settles you on your feet.

“They’re not coming are they?” he asks tenderly, sympathetically, tucking an errant lock of hair behind your ear. You shake your head. “I’m so sorry your friends are so flaky. You got all dolled up for nothing. Come inside with me, let me buy you a drink, hm? Then we can drive home.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “thanks Bucky.”

He holds the door for you to slip inside, shuffling over to the bar as he shucks his thumb over to the men’s room with a half smile. He may look in his late thirties—the age your parents believe him to be—but certain elements of his body, including his bladder, prove he’s a hundred. Chuckling, you shrug his jacket off once you reach the sleek black bar and lay it on the stool beneath you. Scanning the bottles, you begin to concoct your cocktail for the night depending on the brands. You’d usually order a strawberry daiquiri but you’re ont drunk enough to stomach their only brand of Malibu just yet. As you reach for your purse, though, there’s a looming presence behind you that doesn’t smell of cedarwood. This is why Bucky wanted to stay. We were stupid to jump, or at least you were, to the conclusion that you’d be safe from the creeps Bucky would carve his soul out to protect you from.

“Hey sweetheart,” his tenor voice croons, “you look like you need some company.”

Ew.

“No thank you,” you answer with confidence, not even bothering to look at him, “my neighbour is in the bathroom. He’ll be out in a moment.”

“Your neighbour?” He scoffs. “I’ll be your daddy if you let me buy you a drink. How about a vodka martini?”

“I said no thank you,” you repeat, grating out every word through gritted teeth.

“You don’t mean it though baby,” he slurs, beer scented breath invading your nostrils like poison, “just take the fuckin’ drink and don’t be a brat, eh? I’m giving you attention, complimenting you. That’s what you want in a dress like that, ain’t it?”

“HEY!” Bucky yells, and all of a sudden, the world is at rights again. “You get the fuck away from her, ok?”

His voice is warning as he speed walks, the villain walk that scares you. He’s got a very dangerous arm, you know he has, and he’s not afraid to use it.

“You the neighbour?” This bloke chokes. “She doesn’t need your ride home, she’s coming with me.”

Shit.

“Bucky...” you whimper, feeling him come closer.

“You’re okay, Doll,” he assures you.

This man won’t be, not as Bucky crowds towards him. He reveals his metal arm now, rotating it all the way round as he clenches his fist, metal crunching as he does so. One hand lands posessively on your shoulder.

“Jeez, ok I’ll leave her alone,” the sleaze concedes. “Maybe just wear a smarter dress next time.”

A flash of metal blurs in the corner of your eye, and the pound of flesh sounds through the entire bar, followed by the subtle squeaking of Bucky’s arm around this man’s throat.

“She said no. Multiple times. Her choice of dress reveals nothing about her sexual availability, just like your shitty talk says nothing about your dick size. Besides, she isn’t even old enough to drink. I warned you to get away from her. If you don’t leave right now then you won’t live to regret it. Yes?”

He nods and scampers away the minute Bucky’s metal fingers slacken, wheezing for breath. Bucky then sets his arm straight, brushes off his shirt, and shakes his head, sidling up on the barstool beside you. The bartender looks over at the two of you from the opposite end of the place, and nods. The singular movement says ‘he deserved it.’ Yes he did. But Bucky won’t meet your eyes, and instead stares out of the bar to where you were standing before. Staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town.

“Mr Barnes? What is it?”

“I’m looking for your friends. Are they the ones who come over for those pamper nights where you never close your balcony doors?”

Slightly startled, you reply, “Yeah, um, Ophelia and Yoe and Bon.”

“I thought so. They’re rude.”

“Bucky! You’ve never even met them!”

“Yeah I have.” His attention turns towards you now, his gaze fixated, focussed as he explains. “I’ve been outside gardening once or twice when they’ve come over. I said hello, shouted that the door was open, because it always is with you,” true, “and they didn’t even say anything, but went on gossipping.”

“That’s because you’re fit as fuck,” you deadpan, and his reaction clearly tells of his surprise, “they don’t know how to speak to you.”

“What? I’m not attractive! Well, I used to be. 40s handsome, y’know? But no one’s interested now.”

Before you can reply to his obliviousness, the bartender waltzes over and asks for your orders.

“Pink gin and elderflower tonic. Single, please,” you order, and flash your fake ID for long enough to pacify them.

Bucky sits, open mouthed staring at you with incredulity dancing in his eyes. A smile dissolves as he shakes his head a little. “Whiskey on ice, please. You don’t need my ID.”

“Got it, Sir,” they say, and nod to the both of you, heading off to make your drinks.

Bucky says, “Fake ID? Really?”

At the very same moment you tell him, “You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

Which ends in a simultaneous, “What?!” But he gestures for you to go first once your glasses slide across the bar in front of you, sweat dripping from them.

“I have a fake ID so I can drink. Pretty self explanatory, I think. I rarely use it. And yes, you are very, very attractive.”

“You really think so?” he inquires, almost timid.

Is this 6-foot Herculean God seriously asking if his tall, dark and handsome (and peachy) ass is attractive?

“Yes.” You take a sip from your drink. “Everyone in the crescent does.”

The affrontation with which he blinks has you in giggles.

“I didn’t realise. Why? What makes me attractive?” He drinks from his glass, slamming it back down with his eyes widening the moment you arch a brow. “Shit, I keep forgetting that you’re twenty. I beg your pardon, don’t answer. God, I’m sorry…”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure him, “you’re a ‘dilf’ by your age, even though you have no children.”

“And what, pray tell, is a dilf?”

“A dad I’d like to fuck,” you state, sipping your drink, “fuck, no not me. Just that’s what it means.”

“Alright, doll. Whatever you say.”

“Why?” you inquire, “did the girls not think you were handsome back on the day?”

He drums his fingers against the bar, deep in thought. He shifts his jean-clad legs until his knee brushes yours, the faintest contact rippling through you like a firework. His answer is pensive.

“In the forties, the ladies said I was attractive, like boyish cute. But they liked me for my reputation. I could please them, and I was pretty well, um, y’know…”

He darts his eyes away, subtly sipping on his drink.

“No, Mr Barnes. I don’t know. Please tell me. Please spell it out for my naive little mind.”

“You ain’t that naive,” he grumbles under his breath. If only he knew. “They said I was well endowed. The serum, um, built that up. I’m not sure if I’d even fit in anyone now.”

“I’m happy to be a test dummy,” you say, giggling drunkenly, the gin going to your head. You’re joking, of course, but watching Bucky pale and nearly spit the final mouthful of his whiskey out is worth it… even if you weren’t entirely kidding.

“Shut up. The point is that they liked me for my size, for sex, not looks. I was always insecure about that.”

“Bucky! I don’t want to know about your dick!” You do, but he can’t know that.

“Sorry, doll. My turn to ask.”

Devilishly, you smirk, daring him to go far. “Fire away.”

“Why did you kiss me last year?”

Not that fucking far, Jesus Christ. You wheeze so loudly you could swear the entire bar population turns to look at you, but as your eyes dart around the half-dim establishment, they all seem to be absorbed in their own worlds. Bucky’s head is cocked to the side, expectant. “Can you un-ask that question, please?”

“No take backs,” he smirks.

You huff, downing the rest of your gin and tonic, slamming the glass down with the stem. “Fine. I was drunk, stupid. I’d just turned nineteen and I wanted to be a little reckless. Besides, you kissed me first.”

Does he always look so owlish when he’s surprised? And since when has his voice gone that high? His cheeks so flushed?

“What, when?!” he demands.

“On your hundredth birthday. I bought round that cake, and the letter I petitioned for from the queen, and…” you trail off and squeak, the memory already flustering you despite the pure innocence of it, “you kissed me.”

“Yeah,” he laughs breathily, relief floating in his tone, “on your cheek you horndog.”

You raise my eyebrows, prying, “You don’t know what a ‘dilf’ is but you’ll call me a horndog? Wow.”

“Shut up!” He nudges you with his shoulder, electricity shocking your clouched frame upright. You cross your legs. “Your question now.”

“Why do you not like being called Mr Barnes?” You have some ideas…

“Because it makes me feel old.”

“But you are old.” Were we not just talking about his life in the forties? About his hundredth birthday? Christ…

He gapes momentarily, hastily adding, “That’s not the point,” before pushing his glass across the bar. “Come on, doll. Time to go.”

“No!” you whine in protest, keeping your feet planted on the legs of your barstool, eyes skimming the bottles on the shelves in debate of your next drink…

“Yes.”

And the next second you’re thrown in a fireman's lift over his shoulder, his metal arm hooked around your lower back: dangerously close to your bum. He fishes a ten dollar bill and a couple coins from his back pocket and slams them on the black, sticky bar before exiting. You can’t stop giggling over his shoulder even as he carries you unabashedly down busy New York streets at night, your fists playfully beating on his strong chest as the blood swirls in your head. It doesn’t even pass your mind that your dress is very short and that your panties are even smaller.

We were stupid to jump.

He all but throws you into the car, clearly not co-operating with your antics tonight, perhaps exacerbated by your daring questions. Or maybe, wishful thinking getting the best of you, it could be something else, for example something straining his jeans that definitely weren’t that tight when you left the house.

He hops into the car half-smiling and, jamming the key into the ignition, starts to roll away. One good evening together and you had to go and blow it all up by mentioning the very reason why your parents shouldn’t have left you under his ‘supervision’ for the months they’re away. Not only are you an adult, he’s clearly sensitive, and you don’t know your boundaries if one comment can cause him to react like this.

At least he still lets you choose the aux, Taylor Swift filling the car while no words are exchanged between the two of you.

They say the road gets hard. They aren’t wrong.

True dusk closes in and envelops your world as you drive further from the bright lights of the big city and approach the sparse suburbs, trees shadowed and arching around your hometown. Even the stars that shine don’t shine so bright, twinkling in the sky as you’re able to see the ink spilling over the earth.

Your romanticism of the journey home and the acoustic tracks that spill from the speakers don’t make the drive any less tense. He opens your door when you get back to his house, still, and makes his way up the path, unlocking his own door and leaving it open for you as he drops his keys in the bowl and saunters through the house. You half smile at the casualness of the action. We might just get away with it.

Gathering your belongings, you step out of the car on unsteady footing and totter inside, glimpsing at your house. It’s so… unhomely compared to Bucky’s. It barely even looks lived in. Both cars are in front of the house, the kitchen and landing lights on, the alarm system activated, the latter two which you can control with your phone. You can survive without going home.

“Mr Barnes?” you call when you step into his humble abode, closing the door behind you as you hang your coat and bag on the hooks built into the wood paneling by the front door. The house swallows your voice, but Bucky appears from the kitchen, his hair more mussed than before.

“Hey doll,” he says tiredly, “make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa and that. Pick a film out, your choice. Want anything?”

Your heart skips a beat, your body suddenly growing tingly as you direct yourself into his living room and tuck yourself up into the corner of his beat-up couch. The remote balances on the arm, half slipping between the cushions. You put his TV on and instantly hook up the netflix app from your phone, since it’s the most basic TV you’ve ever seen; big, yes, but with three channels and nothing else. He has a VCR player, but where he stores those you’ve no clue.

Just as the credits of your chosen movie begin to play, the fanfare blasting out through the speakers, you stand up and reach for the heavy curtains draped over the front bay window, but one warm, heavy hand lands on your hip before you can.

“They’re stubborn,” he whispers in a half-strained voice as an explanation for touching you in such a way and leaning right over you, his body pressed flush up against yours. He is built, and he’s making you incredibly flustered, so much so that he can probably feel the heat radiating off every part of your body right now. Nonetheless he sorts the curtains and leads you back to the couch with his hand still on your hip. He doesn’t even let go once he’s seated beside you, but shifts his grip lower and settles on your thigh. And, of course, he man-spreads, the sight instantly sending your hormones berserk. And with good reason, too. The sheer bliss riding one of those tree trunks would entail…

“What movie we watchin’, doll?”

“Notting Hill,” you tell him, batting your lashes.

“How long is it?”

“Two hours,” you trail off, but hasten to add, “b—but we can finish it another day, or not at all. I know it’s too late to stay and to bother you.”

His grip increases, his eyes darkening to a hard shade of royal blue as his metal arm plays absently with the spine falling off a book on one of the built-in shelves spanning the walls. “I thought we’d been through this. You can stay as long as you like. If you wanna grab some stuff from your place you can live here while your parents are gone, or even just stay for the night. If you don’t want to stay then you don’t have to, I’ll try not to be offended,” his smile softens this blow, “but whatever works, it’s up to you.”

Wow. Unfortunately you don’t hear that often. Everything in your life is centred around your parents, which isn’t exactly fun, especially when it gets you landed alone in the house for months on end, your only company the neighbour you made out with that one time when you were drunk out your mind. Staying sounds nice, though. Earlier it seemed like a joke, but now? You could see yourself living in his cosy home, at least for the foreseeable future.

“Thank you, Mr Barnes.”

“Bucky!” he cries. “My name is Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes so even calling me Mr is wrong. Doll, just call me Bucky.”

He’s not angry, thankfully. His outburst is one of tension release, not of fury thankfully.

“I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me—”

“It’s ok, Bucky,” you assure him, calming the storm of remorse in his eyes. “I get it.”

Your smile segues into the start of the movie, Hugh Grant bespectacled and clad in his nice button-up shirt, and both you and Bucky are transfixed, but he still doesn’t move his hand.

I know heaven's a thing, I go there when you touch me.

You watch the film with the same enamoured expression you wore the first dozen times you watched it, warmth from Bucky’s unmoving hand seeping into your skin and intoxicating your soul.

Bucky pretends to be keeping up with the movie, pulls surprised faces at the right time and makes occasional comments about Spike in particular, but the entire time, his eyes are on you. You can feel it, the way his baby blues hone in on you when you bite your lip, or smile, or start to mime the words… yeah, his main focus is your lips. Other than when something big happens and you clasp his large bicep, or when a cringe scene comes on—“oh my fucking god, it’s the horse and hound bit,” you cried—and you bury into his shoulder.

You’re able to sit still with him for almost an hour and a half before you’re getting antsy.

“M— Bucky?” His head perks up as you call his name and pause the movie. “I’m going to the restroom and grabbing a drink. You need anything?”

He’s already scrambling up from the sofa, using your thigh as leverage. “I’ll get you a drink, doll. What do you want?”

“I’m already going that direction. Loo still behind the utility?” He nods. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You pry his fingers from your leg and adjust your dress, pulling it down your thighs as you stumble out of the room, clutching the wood paneling and glancing at the wonderful paintings spanning the house.

Meanwhile, your phone screen keeps flashing with notifications, and since you left it on the couch and on airplay, they’re all currently being projected onto the TV. Bucky couldn’t not see them even if he wanted to.

Mom: We’re back on the boat, niow. Why didn’t you text us back? Call us the second we text next!

He ignores that one, but those from your friends catch his attention more than a little.

Lia: we here! where u at?

Bon: did he not invite u in omfg wtf u looked too hot in that dress

Yoe: At the bar bby ,,, sorry we’re late ! Did he drive you home? Lmk xo

“Doll?” Bucky calls, “come here, please.”

Your stomach sinks. All you were doing was grabbing some water, what the fuck has happened?

“What is it, Mr Barnes?” Your eyes flicker to your phone in his hand, texts continually coming through in your notification bar, and then they fly to the TV screen.

He presses the power button, and it switches off. He then holds one arm, the metal one, out expectantly, waiting for you to fall, apparently, into his lap judging by the beckoning movements of his robot hand.

“Care to explain these?”

Your cheeks must be radiating heat at this point. You place your glass of water down as you settle into his grip. His vibranium hand slides to grip your waist.

“It’s not what it looks like, Mr Barnes.”

“Really?” He arches a dark brow. “Because it looks like you weren’t supposed to meet your friends in the first place, but were expecting someone to invite you in.”

You squeak, wilting under his intense gaze that you can’t seem to meet. Your voice is quiet when it comes out, “Okay it’s exactly what it looks like. But I wanted you to invite me in, not let me go out. You’re so nice… why did you have to let me do that when I could’ve come in the first time?”

“Because you deserve to be an adult and have your freedom, doll. But if you pull something like that again, I’ll send you back to your house, ok? No going out, no coming here.”

“So you’re not gonna punish me?” you ask naively, knowing the double entendre your words hold.

You can't talk to me when I'm like this, daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you.

“No baby girl…” he trails off. “I know what you wanted.”

Shit. If he knows now, he can put it all together. Everything from tonight, from the past year…

You pluck at the couch cushion and whisper in a broken voice, “What did I want, Mr Barnes?”

“To not be alone,” he states, as plain as day. His flesh hand comes up to your cheek, brushing your hair away from your face as he cups your jaw with a tender caress, his cerulean eyes searching yours. “I know you’ve never been alone in the house for this long before. It must be a lot for you to suddenly be left alone for months on end. But you don’t have to— to plot in order to come round. Just drop me a text and ask to watch a movie with me, or knock on the door. I like you, y/n. I like spending time with you.”

Your heart is in your throat, your head swarming with memories as doubt settles like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. “I didn’t think you would. Not after…”

“After you kissed me last year?” You nod sheepishly. “Why would I not want to spend time with you?”

“Because you never talked about it again.” He moves to speak, but you cut in first, suddenly finding your voice, your flame, your strength. A smith overtakes your lips “And I’m fine with being alone, Sergeant Barnes. I wanted you to see me in this dress and want me. I wanted you to pull me into the house and kiss me til I was breathless, take me the way you wanted to. I didn’t want company, Bucky. I wanted you.”

But we can patch it up good, make confessions and we're begging for forgiveness.

Flame darkens his eyes the second yours meet them, searching for something, anything. Just as they start to cloud with lust, his lips are on yours, rough and carnal and hard. You gasp at the sudden pressure and he grants himself the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, sweeping and tangling with your own tongue that takes a moment to react, your chest colliding with his, feeling every muscle ripple.

He’s certainly made you breathless, and his kiss alone brings back memories from your fateful nineteenth birthday. The way he pushed you away with a feeble hand on your bare shoulder after you planted one on him, only for it to fall to your hip the second you parted your kiss-swollen lips and batted your doe eyes at him. He pulled you in then similarly to today: his grip strong and his mouth hungry. He’s a man who knows what he wants, and the second he kisses you tonight, every ounce of guilt from the year before dissipates. Once he got a taste of you he knew he’d want more. And he has. Every. Single Day. Seeing you in your little skirts and your crop tops was a living hell… but you never mentioned it. So neither did he. Despite being able to taste the build up of wantonness in your first embrace. Every time he’s come over the past month he’s had to leave before pinning you to a wall and feasting on you until you cry from the pleasure he knows only he can provide.

You draw back for air, taking in your forgotten surroundings. Bucky leans back, his eyes transfixed by your chest, your pert nipples and heavy breasts.

“I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes off your tits all night, Doll. You really should’ve chosen a less see-through dress.”

“It’s see through?” you wheeze, eyes widening. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He leans back nonchalantly, slinging an arm on the sofa behind him, “I was enjoying the view.”

Just as you begin to shield your hands, your dress is ripped from your chest, your boobs spilling into Bucky’s awaiting hand. The metal only emphasises the back-arching pleasure he offers by pinching and teasing your buds, the harsh chill rising goose-bumps from head to toe.

“And don’t think I missed that wet patch in your…” he lets his words fall off pensively, “can you call that scrap of lace underwear?”

If your face turns any hotter you might let off steam. Embarrassment sizzles throughout your nerves, prickling at your fingertips.

“‘M sorry Bucky,” you mumble.

You know how he saw: carrying you over his damn shoulder. But then again a 6ft tall, dark & handsome man with chivalry last seen three-quarters of a century ago carrying one over his shoulder is enough to make anyone wet.

“Oh no, doll,” he reprimands, “don’t be. I really rather enjoyed the sight. Now what d’you say, we get rid of your dress all together.”

You nod, drawing your lower lip between your teeth as you ferret for the bottom of his shirt and begin peeling that up. It’s a fair exchange, and he indulges you. Using the hand prior on the back of the couch, he removes his tight shirts in one fell swoop and reveals his body to you, scars and all. You can’t help your eyes straying to the scratches by his prosthetic.

“Bucky…”

“No baby girl,” he shushes you, “look down.”

You’re met with sculpted abs galore, pale skin taut over his muscles, no hair in sight. A fine sheen of perspiration causes him to glow. When you glance further down, you see the bulge in his pants you felt just hours before. Wow. There ain’t a false god anywhere in sight if that’s what you’re dealing with.

Bucky’s eyes roll back into his head as your nails rake teasingly over his pecs, skimming his abs. He releases a low groan, and his strong hips involuntarily buck up into yours, eliciting a gasp as his hard member slips over your barely clothed core. The groan he emits this time is purely feral.

“You wanna ride my cock doll?” he asks gutturally.

Instantly you flush, body going rigid. “If you’re sure, Sergeant Barnes.”

Apparently this is a dead giveaway, the way you can’t meet his eyes with his vulgar use of language, your legs clamping around his, your chest tightening.

“You’re a virgin?” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, brushing tenderly. You nod abashedly. “Oh baby girl, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’ll work our way up to that, no point tearing that pretty pussy open when you’ll look so good riding my thigh instead...”

And that is certainly not what you were expecting either: you were ready to be cast out the door.

“Really?” You bat your lashes.

“Really. Now let’s get you out of this dress.”

He helps you wriggle out of the flimsy material and flings it halfway across the room, discarding it before both of his hands are spanning your spine and drawing you in close until your bodies are so close together there isn’t even a sliver to separate you. And when he kisses you, long and passionate and viscerally raw, you wouldn’t have it any other way. He tastes of whiskey and hope. His shadow of stubble starts to tickle your cheeks, eliciting a faint giggle as you wriggle on his lap.

“Do that again,” he pants between placing kisses to your exposed jaw.

“Do what?”

“Fuck, rub yourself over me.”

As though you’re as light as a feather, he lifts you up with a bruising hold on your hips and situates you above one thick thigh. His muscles tense as you trap him there, lifting you a fraction and sending a ripple of stimulation through your core.

“Bucky!” you mewl.

“Fuckin’ love those pretty little noises baby doll,” he purrs, and upon watching the pleasure contort your face as he drags you over his leg, adds, “and your pretty little face all fucked out for me.”

“For you, Bucky, only for you!”

Your hips begin to move of their own accord, rocking against him desperately. He was on about your face but Christ if his rosy cheeks and parted lips aren’t heavenly. Your pushing and pulling movement causes heavy drags of your clit against his jeans.

“C’mon, you can do better than that.”

His condescension sends a whimper up your throat, your calves quivering trying to keep you upright. You shake your head.

“You want a hand, baby doll? Okay…”

By hand you certainly don’t expect his metal one to come clamping down on your hip, alleviating the tension in your calves which reignites itself right in the pit of your stomach, and suddenly spins into a coil when his movements speed up. And that’s before his flesh fingers pull your string of panties aside and he rubs the part of your pussy he can access between your heart grinds on his thigh.

“Ohmygod, Bucky!” seems to be the only sensical thing you can say.

He isn’t fazed by your outburst, your exasperation, the building heat rippling throughout your every cell. In fact, he’s all lazy smiles and nonchalance as he holds you at his whim and hums to himself in satisfaction, rubbing his fingers through your drenched folds.

It doesn’t just end there, with you barely able to blink from being so entranced by his pure beauty. No. He has to do the most Bucky thing in the world, that has your knees and your pussy quivering, and your throat hoarse from nearly crying out in pleasure.

He brings his slick fingers up to his mouth, holds your gaze, and wraps his tongue around them languorously, only dating his lashes to flutter once the taste of you is invading his senses.

“You taste delicious, Doll. I’ll have to get a proper taste one day.”

“Fuck!”

And this god of a man has the fucking audcaity to laugh. Two can play at that game.

Desperately trying to regain some degree of composure, you fumble for his belt. Then the button of his jeans. Then the zip. He’s too preoccupied with his fixation on your bouncing tits to care too much about it… until you wrap your hand around his length and girth, adjusting to his weight in your hand even within the constraints of his boxers.

His low chuckle rumbles through your chest, your knees digging into the sofa for purchase, “You’re salivating, baby.”

And you’re not even surprised, not when his huge member is pulsating with desire in your grip.

Freeing him from the constraints of his boxers, you revel in the glory of his cock, long and thick and beading with pre-cum. Bloody hell, he wasn’t wrong. If you weren’t already teetering so close to the edge with only his hold on you to give your movement a steady rhythm, you might say something about how hard he is just from watching you… You start to stroke him, skilfully, slowly, and you get to watch his resolve crumble, until he can’t take it anymore, and your nipple is in his mouth.

Your blasphemous moans must echo for miles.

“I was sick of watching them bounce,” he shrugs as an explanation, “your tits are so pretty they need to be marked up.”

So they do. Because your one boob looks spectacular with his teeth marks and a hickey forming. But you want to taste him now, feel his tongue wrapped around yours. And that you get, a messy, heated kiss that drives your hips back into action, your hand moving steadily up and down the flesh of his cock. He seems to be enjoying it.

As you ride his thigh, bouncing and grinding and circling your hips, your boobs bounce with you, as he said, but this time, while your mouths are pressed hotly together, he gets hit in the chin, but the groan that escapes him isn’t the anticipated one of annoyance, bur rather one of pleasure, as his grip on you increases, and his kiss becomes more passionate, stealing your breath away.

“Can feel you drenching my thigh, pretty doll. God I’ll need these jeans laundered but if this ain’t worth the hassle…”

Your hips begin canting of their own volition now, regaining the prior friction on his beefy, flexing thigh.

“I still worship you,” he groans.

“Even if I’m a false god, Sergeant Barnes?” you ask, fluttering your lashes.

His lips fuse with yours, “Religion’s in your lips, the altar is your hips. You still do it for me, Doll. You always fuckin’ will...”

With one final punishing drag, your clit tingles, and slowly those tingles ripple through every nerve in your entire body, and you’re falling off the cliff and into an ocean of euphoria you never want to stop swimming in. Your pussy flutters, your fingers lose their grip, but not before you feel a hot sticky substance spill over them. Your pleasure is heightened by the sole thought that you made him come.

When you come around, you find yourself in his arms, your chests flush together as he cradles you softly. Your legs feel a bit sticky from being stuck on the couch for so long, but that’s the least of your problems. You smile dazedly up at Bucky, half lidded eyes widening to see as much of his beautiful face as is humanly possible.

“Hi.”

“Hey, doll,” he greets, a lopsided grin matching his words.

“That was nice.”

“Very nice,” he chuckles, “I agree. More than nice.”

You nod, “What next?”

“Nothing.” This answer causes your eyes to widen, your head tilting to the side as you search his blue eyes for a twinkle of humour that may not have been present in his words, but you find nothing. “We’ve got time.”

“Does that mean I should go back home,” you ask, drawing your kiss-swollen lip between your teeth.

“Of course not! You can stay here tonight. My room or the spare?”

“Yours… if you’ll stay?”

Your final request comes out hushed, a clandestine whisper, but Bucky still hears, and brushes a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Course, doll.”

He scoops you up into both arms, your clothes long forgotten about, as he holds you close to his chest. His caution ensures your body doesn’t bounce as he makes his way up the stairs, and from the angle, you’re able to see more of the incredible art decorating his cottage. He kicks open the bedroom door with one foot, and lands you on the plush, king-sized bed.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he tells you.

You watch him disappear through a door built in to look like the wood paneling of his room, and hear his footsteps on the chequered floor as he runs the tap, returning a moment later with a shirt in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

“Open up, doll,” he prompts, his flesh hand prying your knees apart. He dabs around a little down there, gentle in every movement, before passing you his shirt. “Choose a side.”

You do, a smile etched upon your face as you peel back the duvet and snuggle underneath. The pillows smell like him, his woody cologne, and on the wall above you is a mural in Mr Barnes’ style. The night sky, with overhanging branches, mountain peaks and lilypad covered rivers. It feels like a hug from nature, but even that can’t beat the hug from bucky once he slides in beside you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you mumble as he flicks off the light.

“Anything for you, doll. You feeling okay?”

You hum, but the next attempt he makes at speaking, he doesn’t even get that, since you’re fast asleep. He can’t help smiling to himself as he types out a message to your parents.

y/n is fine, safe and well. She’s just tired from a busy day. Don’t worry: I’ve got my eye on her.

He chuckles to himself at the double meaning, his eyes roving over your pretty face as you sleep, lips parted and lashes fluttering. But one thought passes through his mind as his message flickers over the ‘send’ button;

We might just get away with it.

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[architectnews]

Iona P&O Cruise Ship Interior

Iona P&O Cruise Ship Interior, Marine Architecture, Spa Interior Design, Commercial Boat Architecture

Iona P&O Cruise Ship Interior Design

25 May 2021

Iona P&O Cruise Ship

Architects: Jestico + Whiles

British cruise ship operator, P&O Cruises, has launched the latest addition to its fleet, Iona, with interiors designed by hospitality experts, Jestico + Whiles.

Britain’s largest and most environmentally friendly ship, powered by liquefied natural gas (LNG) will accommodate up to 5,200 guests.

Iona was named in a spectacular ceremony broadcast to a virtual audience on Sunday May 16 and the ship’s maiden voyage will be on August 7, sailing the UK coast and up to her namesake island.

The award-winning interior design and architecture studio has designed most of the food and beverage spaces throughout the ship and the most spectacular space of all, the soaring triple-height Grand Atrium which captures unprecedented panoramic views across the ever-changing seascape, as far as the horizon.

The Grand Atrium is the heart of Iona, a lively focal point that encapsulates the spirit of the ship, with spectacular views and natural light. This special space is designed to ‘draw the outside in’ and, accordingly, Jestico + Whiles has made the sea the hero of the space, allowing guests to connect with the seascape around them.The Grand Atrium will be, according to the occasion and time of day, either playground or sanctuary.

It a key entertainment space, designed meticulously to effortlessly accommodate a wide variety of experiences, from musical performance to thrilling aerialists.

At other times it will attract guests throughout the day for convivial repose, offering from morning coffee as the sun rises and sundowners at dusk.

An elegant, gravity defying, arcing staircase of Italian marble with a filigree, bright silver serpentine balustrade serves as the centre piece to the space, evoking the glamour of the iconic cruise ships of the early 20th century. Designed as a sculpture, its swooping form leads guests on a journey through the decks offering ever changing views.

The unifying experience of the atrium is always the view to the sea that provides an enchanting, captivating backdrop to the activity within.

Jestico + Whiles’ Associate Director, Jennifer de Vere-Hopkins said: “Despite the challenge of such a large space, we have worked closely with P&O Cruises to create a unique Grand Atrium that is harmonious with the separate venues, making the space both open and intimate. The refocusing of the guest experiences on the sea is the heart of an entirely new brief. The sea becomes the focus of the triple-height space; the sinuous curves are shaped around it, framing and complementing the views to the outside.”

P&O Cruises senior vice president, Paul Ludlow said: “We’ve set out to make sure the sea is the star on Iona, and the design of the Grand Atrium tells you so much about how special she is going to be. Balancing intimate spaces with larger social areas, guests will be wowed by the three storey high glass walls and the ever-changing view they reveal. From the moment they step onto the staircase, I know guests will be swept away by the beautiful design.”

Jestico + Whiles has designed P&O Cruises first ever ‘gastro pub’ – The Keel and Cow – on Deck 8, with views over the Grand Atrium and the ocean. The Glass House on Deck 7 will include an impressive wine list and menu curated by award-winning wine expert Olly Smith, wines from around the world are served by the glass. Wine connoisseurs will be well taken care of with a new experience, Cellar Door at the Glass House will offer wine talks, tastings and wine-pairing dinners. Guests can relax with unbeatable views as they watch impromptu aerial and circus performances in the three-storey high space.

On Deck 6 at the Vistas Cafe Bar there is a unique offer from P&O Cruises Food Hero and master pâtissier Eric Lanlard. The nearby Emerald Bar will evoke the glamour of a 1920s cocktail bar.

Iona was constructed at the Meyer Werft shipyard in Papenburg, Germany. She holds 5,200 passengers and is the largest cruise ship for the British market.

About Jestico + Whiles Jestico + Whiles is an award-winning architecture and interior design practice working from London and Prague. The practice incorporates a specialist and highly respected hotel and hospitality design studio of experienced and accomplished designers including architects, interior designers and FFE specifiers.

Jestico + Whiles has earnt an international reputation for excellence in hospitality design and is currently working on the new five-star W Edinburgh, the Mandarin Oriental Lucerne and the Kempinski Palace Engelberg.

Their portfolio includes the Zuri Zanzibar eco hotel resort, Hard Rock Hotel Ibiza; W London, Andel’s Hotel Lodz (Poland) and the interior design of the extraordinary Yas Hotel, a 500-key contemporary ultraluxe hotel which straddles the Formula One Grand Prix racetrack in Abu Dhabi.

The practice has completed Alston Bar & Beef in Glasgow and, most recently a sister restaurant in Manchester, as well as the restaurant at The Lansdowne Club in Mayfair (in a space originally conceived by the designers of the famous Queen Mary, the famous ship from the golden age of cruising), Shilling Brewing Co. in Glasgow; and Aqua Shard in London.

The Jestico + Whiles team has earned a global reputation for excellence in this field, supported by a great number of international awards, including the European Hotel Design Award, BD Interior Designer of the Year Award and FX International Design Awards. Jestico + Whiles won the MIPIM Award ‘Special tribute to Country of Honour’ in consecutive years, a unique accomplishment, and both for hotel projects.

About P&O Cruises P&O Cruises is Britain’s favourite cruise line, welcoming guests to experience holidays with a blend of discovery, choice, relaxation and exceptional service catered towards British tastes. P&O Cruises fleet of premium ships combine genuine service, a sense of occasion and attention to detail.

In 2021, P&O Cruises will launch Iona its first Excel class ship. The new LNG-powered ship, with 5,200-guest capacity, will be the largest ship built to serve the UK market. Iona will feature enhancements to already successful brand signature venues from the existing fleet, as well as features newly developed for Iona. P&O Cruises second LNG-powered Excel class ship and sister ship to Iona is named Arvia, meaning from the seashore, and will join the fleet in December 2022. Arvia is an innovative and future-focused ship and will offer outstanding, varied and contemporary holidays. Arvia has been designed to travel to the sun all year-round and to maximise views of the ocean and the seashore from everywhere on board.

With over 200 destinations worldwide, P&O Cruises itineraries are carefully curated to inspire discovery, and are varied to suit newcomers and experienced guests alike. With a wide choice of holidays from two days to three months there is something for everyone. P&O Cruises sails to Australia & New Zealand, Baltic, the British Isles, Canada, the Spain, Portugal & the Canary Islands, the Caribbean, Central America, the Far East & Asia, the Indian Ocean, the Mediterranean, Scandinavia, South America, the South Pacific, the United States and Western Europe.

Iona P&O Cruise Ship Interior images / information received 250521

Boathouses

Boathouse Articles

Community Rowing Boathouse, Boston, USA Design: Anmahian Winton Architects photo © Jane Messinger Community Rowing Boat House in Boston

The Houseboat, Poole Harbour, Dorset, England Design: Mole Architects and Rebecca Granger Architects photo © Rory Gardiner Houseboat in Dorset

Boat House McMahons Point, lower North Shore of Sydney, NSW, Australia Design: TW Architects photo : TW Architects Boat House NSW

Takapuna Beach Boatsheds, Auckland, New Zealand Design: Strachan Group Architects in association with Rachael Rush photography : Patrick Reynolds Auckland Boat Sheds

WMS Boathouse, Chicago, Illinois, USA Design: Studio Gang Architects photo : Steve Hall © Hedrich Blessing Boathouse Building in Chicago

Parry Sound District Boathouse, Ontario, Canada Design: Weiss Architecture & Urbanism Limited photo : Arnaud Marthouret Boat House in Ontario

Boats

Boat Design Articles

New Yachts 2018

Yachtsman’s House on the Isle of Wight

Oyster’s Sub 60ft Sailboat image courtesy of article provider The Oyster 565 60ft Sailboat

Marina Architecture

Building a Superyacht

Superyacht design for Blohm+Voss Design: Zaha Hadid Architects render © Zaha Hadid Architects Zaha Hadid Yacht – Blohm+Voss Boat

Z-Boat – limited edition of 12 boats plus 4 prototypes image courtesy of ZHA Zaha Hadid Boat Design

Se77antasette yacht for Benetti Design: Fernando Romero, FR-EE image courtesy of architects Yacht for Benetti

Fresnel Hydrofoil Trimaran Sailboat, Cape Town, South Africa Design: Dr Margot Krasojevic, architect image courtesy of architects Hydrofoil Trimaran Sailboat

New Dutch Architecture

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Dutch Buildings

Dutch Architecture Designs

Comments / photos for the Iona P&O Cruise Ship Interior page welcome

The post Iona P&O Cruise Ship Interior appeared first on e-architect.

#e-architect

[lindoig5]

Friday   Day 29    The Snares

Overnight, the ship transported us to The Snares: another of New Zealand’s wonderful Sub-Antarctic islands, but one on which it is forbidden to land.  It is now feral-free and the authorities are justifiably eager to keep it that way so no human pests are allowed to land.  This is to avoid the risk of us reintroducing any unwanted flora or fauna back onto the island.

Instead, we enjoyed a wonderful zodiac cruise.  We cruised along very close to the shoreline for a kilometre or so as more albatrosses (and other birds) wheeled around above us, then entered another long sea-cave – this one more likely not a lava-tube.  We puttered in quite a long way, getting darker and darker as we went, but then saw some light at the end of the tunnel.  Turning to port (left for you landlubbers) we cruised right out into bright sunlight further along the coast and around the corner from where we started our little journey.  The cave/tunnel itself was quite interesting with mainly green walls and ceiling but also reds and browns from different types of algae.

We followed along the coast, exploring several tiny inlets as we went, then rounded another corner into a colony of Snares Crested Penguins, accompanied by 20 or 30 Seals and Sea-lions, lazing around on the rocks and ogling the strange new species drifting past them on the water. A group of 3 Fur-seals seemed to be having some sort of violent altercation in the water near our zodiac. Maybe they were just playing, but they were splashing and leaping and diving and lunging at each other for several minutes before they resolved their differences – or took their fight further away from us.

Dan thought one of the most distant penguins looked a bit different from the others but eventually concluded that they were all the same.  But some of my photos subsequently proved him wrong.  A single bird on the extreme right of the colony was an Erect-crested Penguin, the only one anyone saw anywhere on the voyage.

We cruised further around the bay and saw some more great birds – Auckland Island Shags and Black-billed, Red-billed and White-fronted Terns, several lovely Tuis, numerous unique all-black Auckland Island Tomtits, a few Fernbirds and lots of Bellbirds.  Most of them let us get relatively (or very) close to them and then there were the Light-mantled Sooty Albatrosses with their strange eye patterns – two Adults and two chicks, all together on a ledge not far out of our reach - but the surprising thing is that the adults were not the parents of the chicks.  They were a courting pair and it was wonderful to watch them dancing and bill-clacking before going off to do some formation flying that was great to watch.  They were joined by a third Sooty (apparently quite common) and it was like synchronised swimming in the air as they swooped and glided and wheeled  and soared as if joined by invisible threads.  The chicks were close to fledging and their parents were nowhere to be seen, but would presumably be back to feed the chicks after we left the area.  We saw a few more Seals and Sea-lions before returning to the ship across some challenging sea but it had been an exceptionally wonderful and educational couple of hours of nature study.  And to top it all off, there was the most spectacular rainbow over the ship as we returned for showers and lunch.

According to my notes, during the afternoon, they screened an interesting documentary, but unfortunately, I didn’t record what it was about.  I am pretty sure it was a nature doco, but beyond that……

And after dinner, the woman who ran the music quiz a couple of nights earlier did a similar one.  She apparently does these quite regularly at home so had another one all cued up on her PC and Heather and I went to this one.  There were four teams and the final scores were something like 120, 100, 99.5 and 99 with only half a point separating the non-winners. Both the female cops were in the winning team (as they had been for the previous quiz) and our team came third. One of the cops’ husband (interesting question as to where the apostrophe should be in cop’s’ – I am sure he was only married to one of them!) was on our team and shouted out the answers to several questions so everyone got them right – he is a very extroverted accountant and you just can’t trust accountants!

[kyndaris]

North Island Sight-Seeing

Three years ago, I went on a grand journey to the United States and Canada. I also visited Japan with my family and went on a skiing excursion with my mother. Since then, I’ve been hard at work, trying to find a bit of stability with regards to my employment. And while I’ve finished one of the fantasy stories that has taken me years to write, and several short stories to boot as well, I’ve struggled to find much meaning in the day to day humdrum of working nine to five.

Finally, I decided, this would be my time to properly let loose. Yes, I took some time out so that I could blast through Kingdom Hearts 3 when it released, but anyone could see that it was never truly a holiday.

My trip to New Zealand was the first time, in a long while, that I managed to scrounge up some annual leave and actually use it. Instead of desperately holding onto it and feeling guilty if I decided to step away from the vigorous demands of the job.

So, two days after my birthday, my mother, my stepfather and I set out to Auckland. It was meant to be a fairly early flight though we’d arrive in New Zealand mid-afternoon. After almost two hours of delays, we finally landed and set about retrieving the car we hired.

There isn’t much I can say about that first day.

Hungry, weary from the flight, we started the journey to Turangi. A four-hour drive from Auckland and about an hour’s drive to the Whakapapa ski field.

Friday saw us wake fairly early, though I was still recovering from a terrible cold that I had contracted a few days before my birthday. Determined to finally take to the snow after missing out the previous two years, I pushed myself out of bed and into the car.

Once we arrived at Whakapapa and ventured into one of the many buildings to purchase a lift ticket and acquire the equipment we would need for the day, I was a little less enthusiastic about the whole endeavour. It had been raining since the morning and I hadn’t had the foresight to pack proper boots to stomp around in the snow. My sneakers were soaked and my cough was still quite chesty.

Mum was determined, however, and before noon we headed down to Happy Valley.

It was a beginner’s area, true, but I was sick and it was snowing so heavily I could barely see more than five metres in front of me. Besides, it was a whole lot cheaper and due to the conditions, only three of the six main lifts were in operation. I thought it was a much better deal, considering.

Still, it was a good long while that we stayed on the ski field. By the time we returned the skis and boots, we were sopping wet. Our gloves all but useless. My mother was also unfortunate enough to have her supposedly waterproof pants soak through. Even down to the thermals she was wearing underneath.

Suffice it to say, our ski trip in New Zealand had been less fun than initially anticipated.

But there was no time to wait for everything to dry. Once my stepfather had picked us up, it was another long drive to Rotorua. Once there, I had my mother buy me dinner. With my shoes less than serviceable and not wanting to walk around in wet socks, I had taken a shower as soon as we arrived at our hotel. As we were staying in New Zealand for only four days, it had not seemed imperative to bring a second pair of shoes. And in fact, I had forgotten to bring a pair of slippers for myself.

Once our stomachs were full, my mother thought to enjoy herself at the Polynesian Spa. Both my stepfather and I stayed behind. As we waited for her to return, I flipped through the channels – finally settling on the Disney Channel for the evening’s entertainment.

My sleep was troubled. Sharing one room, I was unable to silence the snoring from the bed next to mine. I managed to use headphones for an hour or two of rest before it was interrupted again by my uncontrollable bladder.

The next morning, I felt as if I wanted to cry. Indeed, some tears did manage to slip from the corner of my eyes, so frustrated was I.

At least, though, the weather was much better. We were blessed with sun, sun and more sun on Saturday. Although there was still quite a bit of a breeze, we could not have asked for better weather. Our first stop for the day was Te Puia. I would have rather revisited Hobbiton but the prices were a lot higher than I had anticipated and my stepfather had never been a big fan of the films.

Revisiting the geothermal valley that I had seen on my cruise almost five years ago, was still a preferable substitute. Plus, it was quite close to the hotel we were staying in so it did not take long (after driving out to a lake near the Rotorua bowling club in the centre of town) to arrive.

Our trip to Te Puia also included a tour of the Maori Arts and Crafts Academy. One where all the students were on fully paid scholarships that were paid for by all the visitors to the geysers and ever-expanding mud pools. Fun fact: they’re about ten metres deep and essentially quite close to boiling. As such, it’s not a good idea to fall inside. And if you know someone that has, better to wish them your fondest farewells rather than attempt a rescue. It’s simply not practical.

We also bore witness to a powhiri – a traditional Maori welcoming ceremony. It was a fun experience filled with songs and dance, capitalising on the selling power of learning about the traditions of one of the many different cultures of the world. Some might view such actions as selling out and pandering to the lowest common denominator, but in my opinion, it’s a great way to preserve the stories and heritage of the First Nations.

From Te Puia, we drove to Hamilton. Once we arrived, my mother and stepfather reunited with their old university classmate. We toured a little around the University of Waikato before heading to the Hamilton Gardens. I’ll admit, I was quite impressed by the various styles. Of particular note were the fantasy gardens given my predilections for the genre.

Afterwards, we checked in briefly at the motel we were staying in before having dinner at a Taiwanese restaurant. It was the first time I watched three siblings hard at work playing games on their phone, iPad and Lenova laptop. I’ve never played Roblox but there appeared to be plenty of options available for young kids to try.

Sunday involved another long drive back to Auckland. When we left the Motor Inn we were staying at, my mother was less than impressed with the fact that we had left behind two bottles of juice that she had painstakingly bought for me. After several strong words were exchanged, I sat in a sullen silence until we finally entered the city.

Once there, we met with another of my mother’s classmates. With the rest of her family, we headed into the central business district for lunch. The place was an energetic and quite popular oyster bar restaurant, Depot. Ordering for us was the son of my mother’s classmate. He seemed nice enough though we barely exchanged more than two sentences in the entirety of meeting each other. My mother had hoped for us to exchange contact details, but the opportunity never arose.

I remembered obliquely referencing his impressive Gundam collection and whistled internally when I noted all the PC store fronts on his computer. What also impressed me were the comfortable PC gaming chairs that they had. Now, if only I could have one shipped over to enjoy my frequent eight-hour gaming binges on the weekends.

Before we could learn more about each other, though, he was quickly on his way back home to watch an esports livestream. Since I have never been all that impressed with the competitive scene and he was less than open about his gaming habits, I wasn’t entirely too sure which games were on offer. Was it League of Legends? Dota 2? Overwatch?

In the end, nothing came of our brief meeting. With my mother’s classmate, we headed out to One Tree Hill (and I swear that there was an old television show of the same name) for a spin. It was another location that I had briefly visited all those years ago on my New Zealand cruise. And there were sheep aplenty on the hills, grazing away at the grass and bleating for all to hear.

After our little side adventure, we were in a rush to return the hire car and check in to our final hotel. Once we had settled, my mother’s cousin came to pick us up. We headed to a quaint Chinese restaurant, the prices a little on the exorbitant side. Her eldest son, trying to play at being the perfect host, took the honours for ordering our food.

It might not have been the best selection, but the self-loathing and the vitriol he spewed about the quality of the food was shocking. To be honest, I’ve never much liked him and he has always rubbed me the wrong way with his superiority complex. It didn’t help that he tried to ‘redeem’ himself for the meal by taking us on a little diversion from where we wanted to go.

I mean, from the first, I had said that it would be best if we returned to the hotel early as we had an early flight back to Australia. Second of all, he never asked if we wanted to head up to a nearby hill and look out on the city and its pretty lights.

He even grabbed the steering wheel briefly, so obstinate was he in taking us on this side trip.

Now, I’m no psychologist, but his behaviour proved to be quite frightening. When we finally arrived at the hotel we were staying at, I gave his mother a word of warning.

That done, it was a simple matter of heading to bed and waking up around four in the morning for our return flight.

#personal blog #travel post

[luxurynewzealandtours-blog]

5 Itineraries Ideas For Luxury New Zealand Tours

New Zealand is a wonderful country blessed with so many things from nature to its culture. No wonder many tourists who want to take a break and breath are visiting. They can just lay low and relax, or have luxury New Zealand tours.

Staying lay low in the country is a very nice idea, but for those who want a little extra in their New Zealand tour because it cannot always happen, here are five itinerary ideas:

Milford Sound Overnight Cruise

The best way to see the wonders of Milford Sound is by boarding a cruise. Milford Sound is a fiord with so many daytime tourists. The best way to experience its beauty and peacefulness is cruising overnight.

Start your cruise in the late afternoon when you get to explore the mountain peaks, waterfalls, lush rainforest, and glacier-carved cliffs while having buffet dinner in the evening. In the morning, enjoy the spectacular views of Milford Sound before returning to the wharf. Add on, you can choose to self-drive a cruise or with a coach.

South Island Tour

Enjoy the pristine places in New Zealand and luxury New Zealand tours exploring the following:

Christchurch Aoraki Mount Cook World Heritage Park Dunedin’s Scottish Heritage Franz Josef Glacier TranzAlpine Fiordland National Park Queenstown

Jet Trip at Dart River

Experience breathtaking sceneries and most exhilarating activities into the heart of Mount Aspiring National Park where you can see and learn the following:

Greenstone trail Te Waipounamu World Heritage Area Maori legends Ancient beech tree forests from the “The Lord of the Rings” Shooting locations of Middle Earth, Narnia, The Hobbits, and other movies Untouched natural wonders

New Zealand Luxurious Food and Wine Tour

Aside from its scenic views and exhilarating adventures, New Zealand also offers luxury New Zealand tours of food and wine. Here, you can have a culinary adventure of New Zealand’s finest wineries, vineyards, and artisan food producers. You can start the tour in Auckland going to Waiheke Island by ferry where you can explore beautiful beaches and wineries. You can then take a helicopter back to Auckland from where you can visit other finest vineyards and top food producers.

North Island Tour

If there’s a South Island tour, there is also a North Island tour which is equally enticing as the latter. In this tour, you can visit the following places:

Agrodome Rotorua Auckland Sky Tower Gondola and Luge Rotorua Hawke’s Bay Express Napier Hole in the Rock and Dolphin Cruise Te Puia (Thermal Mud Pools and Geysers)

[sailsunnkiss307]

Celebrate the festive season in style with our exclusive Christmas party packages in Auckland.

#auckland harbour cruise christmas party #christmas dinner cruise

[elliewilliams93]

19.01.2019

To say we had an amazing weekend would be an under statement. We traveled, along with our new camera 4 hours north of Auckland to Kerikeri in the Bay of Islands. I have a friend who lives up there and her parents have just retired and conveniently own a very nice boat!

We set sail early Saturday morning to take advantage of the amazing summer weather. We cruised to a popular spot on the bay, the whole in the rock. We then anchored up for the night at an island called Paradise Bay. Here you can walk around the island, kayak, swim and paddle board, we really were in paradise!

We drank wine and had dinner whilst watching the most beautiful sunset, which also gave us great testing opportunities with the camera. With a bit of self help from youtube we are slowly getting the hang of it! 

We spent the night on the boat before cruising back Sunday morning. 

Starting to feel like every weekend is a holiday at the moment. We are very luckily to have such good friends with lovely families who want to share their love of boats and the Bays!

Four day week this week as the adventures continue to Wanaka and Queenstown next weekend!

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

The cult that’s infiltrated NZ schools, campuses and churches

by Rosel Labone            July 15, 2018

Unification Church leader Sun Myung Moon and his wife Hak Ja Han in 1995. Providence church was born out of Moon's church.

A religious sect based on the teachings of a South Korean “messiah” and convicted sex offender has quietly infiltrated university campuses, schools and mainstream churches in New Zealand. Rosel Labone investigates.

Mark* was in his second year of a psychology degree at Victoria University in Wellington when he met Crystal in 2007. She was vivacious and outgoing; the kind of person who seemed to know everyone. Crystal was class representative, and made herself available for study-related questions. So Mark plucked up the courage to say hello. They started corresponding by email. Crystal invited him to dinner, then asked him to join her Bible study group.

Two years later, Mark was deeply involved in a religious movement with its origins in Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church. Reflecting on how he was drawn into the sect, he talks first about the friendships he made, the sense of camaraderie. And, as the first New Zealander evangelised, he had status in the group. When Mark was asked to move to Auckland to help recruit new members, he had to move from accommodation he shared with other sect members to stay with “secular relatives”.

“I woke up one Sunday morning at my relatives’ and just felt burnt out. I decided not to go to church that day. Then I skipped the next service. I think if I’d gone back to Wellington, I might still be involved because I’d have been surrounded by members and would have been indoctrinated every day,” he says.

“Looking back, I feel I was spiritually violated. I lost all trust in religion and I’ve never been able to go back to church – any church – since.”

Providence church (also known as Jesus Morning Star) is an offshoot of Moon’s “messianic” movement that has surfaced in New Zealand. Led by Jeong Myeong-seok, its beliefs – among them, that sexual intercourse with the Messiah (Jeong) allegedly cleanses Original Sin – can be traced back to Moon.

Former “Moonie” Jeong Myeong-seok was paroled from South Korea’s Daejeon prison in February this year, having served nine years for raping and molesting his followers.

Sam* was a professional athlete when his best friend died in a car accident. In 2009, he was looking for something to fill the void after losing a couple of years “cruising through life”. Like Mark, he was first invited to dinner by a woman. She then asked him to join her at a church service in Wellington’s Cuba St.

For both young men, these innocent-sounding gatherings were the start of recruitment into Providence – also known as Jesus Morning Star and Christian Gospel Mission – led by former “Moonie” Jeong Myeong-seok.

Providence was founded in 1978 by Korean-born Jeong, now 73, known by members as “Joshua”. South Korea remains its stronghold, where it claims to have more than 100,000 followers. It also boasts of having more than 10,000 followers worldwide, including small but growing memberships in both New Zealand and Australia.

In 1999, following an investigation by South Korea broadcaster SBS that included allegations of rape, Jeong fled the country. A string of accusations followed and rape charges were filed against him in 2001. Alleged victims in Japan claimed he would initiate contact with women under the guise of performing “health checks”, then sexually assault them. In Taiwan, former Providence members told police they were ordered to have sex with Jeong to “wipe away their sins”.

In May 2007, after eight years on the run, Jeong was arrested in Beijing by Chinese police. He was extradited to Korea and sentenced to six years’ imprisonment after being found guilty of raping four female members of the sect. The sentence was extended on appeal to 10 years. Jeong was paroled from Daejeon prison on February 18 this year; he will be monitored via an electronic ankle bracelet for seven years.

A screenshot from videos made when Jeong Myeong-seok was in China, before his arrest in 2007 and extradition to South Korea. There he was tried and found guilty of raping four female members of his sect.

Full story here: https://www.noted.co.nz/currently/social-issues/cults-nz-providence-infiltrate-nz/

And: https://www.noted.co.nz/currently/social-issues/escaping-cult-providence-how-i-left/

New Dunedin group targeting students labelled as a ‘cult’

July 19, 2018

Alarm over a group that’s been set up in Dunedin which is being called a cult that aggressively targets students.

A volunteer group, Save the Earth from A to Z, has the same members, and may be a rebranding exercise, of the controversial South Korean-based Elohim Bible Academy, aka Providence, led by Jeong Myeong-seok.

Massey University religion professor, Peter Lineham says it’s been active in Auckland in the last few years, and around the world.

He told Mike Hosking the disturbing sect pushes people strongly to join.

“In essence, it’s a closed sect that tries to hook people in, has absolute boundaries so it’s almost impossible to leave, and takes over a person’s life almost entirely.”

Save the Earth from A to Z denies this, and says it’s all a misunderstanding.

Three minute AUDIO:

Interview: PETER LINEHAM SPEAKS WITH MIKE HOSKING

Jeong Myeong-seok, a former UC member, started his own cult and was jailed for multiple rape

Spiritual Brides for the new Korean messiah

#Jeong Myeong-seok #Providence cult #Moonie #Elohim Bible Academy #Save the Earth from A to Z #JMS

[oliviafoster]

Edited copywriting for book

Introduction

A memoir about my Father and his passion for wine, food, storytelling, and family traditions. How sitting around the dinner table is nostalgic and how food and wine can bring people together. A regular tradition at the foster household is sitting, eating, drinking and talking around the table every night. 

This book takes you through the journey of dinner time at the Fosters through Hegmans eyes. Exploring where Hegman's love for food started, what wines he likes to pair with dinner, his recipes, his favourite stories and why all these links are essential to him.

What's for dinner?

My love for food started with my two grandmother's, Olga Foster and Ivy Papa. 

Olga Foster

Olga Foster inspired me as she was just passionate about food. She loved all foods, good foods. She loved sharing ideas and recipes. I remember I would have been about six I suppose, when I went up to stay with her on the family farm, and she had all these ingredients waiting for me when I walked in sitting on the bench. She said, "We're going to make your favourite chocolate cake, I've asked the neighbour for the recipe." This is one of my favourite cooking memories. The trust she had in me, even though she was standing right there, she would read the recipe out and I was picking the ingredients up and putting them together. The cake turned out edible at the end, which was good. That was probably the first cake I made with a lot of help from my grandmother at six years old. 

Ivy Foster 

Ivy Papa, my Mum's Mum. We'd meet at her mother's place (my great-grandma), one Sunday a month. They'd be all members of the extended Croatian family. There would be food being cooked everywhere. My grandmother would have an array of sponges and scones, and there'd be all sorts of food. I think the whole drive for her was just the love for the family. Getting together and sharing the food, and connecting over conversations. 

One of my earliest memories of cooking is watching Ivy cooking pikelets. She would cook them directly on the hot plate of the stove. Having a big bowl of mixture placed on the bench, and she'd be just cooking pikelets after pikelets. I don't know how many she cooked because I would eat quite a few of them coming straight off the hot plate, but they'd still be a massive pile for the rest of the family at the end. 

John & Pat Foster

My parents both impacted my love for cooking as both my Mum and dad were excellent cooks. Mum picked up her skills of cooking from her mother and grandmother. Dad was probably more self-taught as he spent lots of his time surfing and sailing, so having to fend and cook for himself. 

During the week, my Mum would always cook Monday to Fridays and then the weekend; dad would take over. He would cook phenomenal breakfasts, and he loved cooking on open fires, barbecues and that sort of thing.

The meals I remember well that my parents cooked were a Sunday breakfast and an evening roast. Sunday morning breakfast, If we were lucky, one of the local boys who used to catch whitebait on Devonport wharf would come around in the morning, selling it in little glass cream bottles. The old boy would buy a bottle of that and then make Whitebait fritters for breakfast.

If there were no Whitebait, he would use eggplants. Eggplants weren't very popular back in the '70s. He would slice it thinly, batter it, and we would have that almost like a pancake. They were what I remember from my dad. 

My Mum is where I get my experimental cooking from. For me, a distinct memory is my mother cooking a roast with all the trimmings; she was good at this. She would always be trying new stuff. She would never settle on a recipe and would always try new ways of cooking. She loved Asian food before it became popular in New Zealand and a lot of Indonesian food. She would cook and merge a couple of recipes. You take the best out of each recipe, and then once you've worked with an ingredient and understand how it works, it makes it a lot easier when you're messing with recipes.

 For both my parents, cooking was an expression of love to people they loved.

Let's pick a wine?

I think pairing wine with food is important. It's like cooking with certain ingredients, certain ingredients paired with other ingredients, and wine is no different. It's just another ingredient to the meal.

When it comes to pairing wine with food, there are no rules. I'm not into practices. Certain wines are easier to match with foods, And that'll be the classic red wine with red meat and white wine with fish or chicken. Depending on how things are cooked, there's no reason why red wines can't be paired with some white meat. Some chicken dishes will go nicely with red wine, especially in a heavy tomato sauce. If you've got a salad with some seared beef that's been thinly sliced, a chardonnay or other white wines will go nicely with that as well as being a red. It's just a matter of matching the food's flavours with the wine's flavours rather than stereotyping the decision.

My love for food and wine has grown since becoming a winemaker. I got interested in wine, which was probably just about the same time I met Bev, my wife. We had a friend who had a place on Waiheke, and we spent quite a bit of time out there and got bitten with the bug of winemaking. In The early 90's we were able to get hold of some good wine and pair them with food that we were preparing which has only developed more since we planted the vineyard and started producing our own wines.

The storytelling begins?

My favourite story 

There's a lot of favourite stories. One that's been passed down the generations and finally to me by my mother, was around the passing of my dad's dad. So, my grandfather passed a few months before I was born. And he'd been suffering from cancer for half a dozen years beforehand and was dying slowly of liver cancer. On the weekend, my father was in the surf club and would be at the surf club all weekend, and then on a Sunday night, he would come back to the Farm and then his friends and surf club boys would be heading back to Auckland, or wherever they'd come from. And they have to get past the farm. So usually, they would stop and have a meal, or my grandmother would cook them a meal to take for sunday night. There'd be a lot of talking, drinking and my grandfather loved competition. And he loved playing poker. He had a big jar of pennies and he would get the boys, the surf club boys, around who were probably 40 odd years younger than him. And they would play poker right through to the early hours in the morning, with these pennies, winning and losing pennies and that sort of thing. So that would happen every sunday night for the last sort of summer that Leonard was around. Then when he passed away, I think I was about the middle of winter, a few months before I was born, they had the Funeral. When it came time to pick up the casket and carry him out to the hearse, the surf club boys all stood up, and they were the pallbearers. My grandmother was standing there with a few of the relatives around, and they said, "Who are they?" You know, put out that they weren't carrying Leonard out to the hearse. She turned around and said, "they're the friends that bothered to see him this last year" So she was pretty straight up and down my grandmother. So they had tea and cakes at the church, then I think it was a private burial, and the boys all went back to the surf club. An hour or so later, it was about six o'clock that night. They came back through, past the farm again and stopped to see how everybody was, and asked if it was right to see my grandmother, and grandmother said “yes, you can come in and say hello”. So they sat around and then they had a drink, then another drink, some food, followed by a few more drinks and about three o'clock they were jumping around shaking Leonards jar full of Coins. Shouting, "Come and play Poker! Come and play Poker!" Then they all woke up the following day wondering whether he would have enjoyed the night, and they decided that he would have.

Story 1 - the 100-year-old ring

The story of a 100-year-old ring. This story dates back to the early 1920s. Olga Foster, my grandmother, was in Paris with her first husband. While they were there, they purchased a yellow diamond and brought that back to New Zealand. Not long after coming back to New Zealand, she divorced her first husband. As the story went, he read the newspaper at the dining room table, which was enough to get a divorce in those days. When she met my grandfather, Leonard Foster, and when they were getting engaged, she talked him into using the Yellow Diamond she bought on her honeymoon with her first husband, as the stone to go in the ring.

My grandmother, all her life, wore the ring. She left the ring to me via my mum and the old boy. When Olga passed away, my father started wearing this yellow diamond ring on his little finger. He would wear this ring everywhere, and he went and got it valued for insurance purposes. When he took it to the valuer, this would have been in probably the early '70s, they said it was a fake diamond and that it wasn't a real diamond. So he kept wearing the ring because it had a lot of sentimental value. After all, it'd been his mother's ring, an engagement ring, and she'd bought that in Paris on her first honeymoon, she had with her first husband, so a bit of a story. He continued wearing the ring, and then one morning woke up and had lost the ring. He thought he'd washed his hands and the Ponsonby cruising club and that it had fallen off his finger and gone down the drain, and that was his story. But not a lot was said about losing the ring because of the sentimental value, but it was a fake diamond with no monetary value. Then, probably 20 years later, 15 years later, when my father passed away, his old girlfriend turned up to the funeral. She presented me with the ring that she had, and she'd said that somebody had pinched the ring and she'd heard the story that the ring had been robbed and she decided it should be returned to me, and again, that was just a fake diamond. So it was sentimental value. The following week, my brother and I went to town, and we thought we'd get the ring valued to make sure and that sort of thing. When we took it into the jewellers, left it with him and then went to the viaduct for lunch, we spent what money the old boy had left in his wallet. We just found his wallet, and so we decided to spend all that money. And then when we came back, the jeweller said no, no, this is not a fake diamond. It's nearly a two-carat yellow diamond and worth a considerable amount of money. 100 years on, and it's still going strong. Bev, my wife, wears the ring and is destined for my eldest daughter Hannah at some stage.

Story 2 - The first time at the Farm 

Patty Papa, my mother and this is the story of her first two visits to the Foster farm, my father's family farm in Waimauku. The first visit was when she was invited out to a party in Auckland, my father picked her up, she lived in St. Heliers, and he lived in Waimauku, so quite a distance back then. They went to this party and my father, as usual, had too much to drink and couldn't drive. So my mum drove John's father, Leonards, car home to Waimauku. Then John decided that she couldn't drive the car back to her place because Leonard would go nuts the following day. So he said that she could stay. John said, you can stay in my room, and I'm going to sleep in the lounge. He went into his room to get things ready, then came out and said, it's all ready for you. She went in there, and he had taken all the bedding and the mattress as well. So she slept on the bed base with a blanket. She seemed to be woken in the morning by this jingling teacup. Leonard Foster had come in expecting to find John Foster in bed. But there was this little girl wrapped up on a blanket on his bed.

The teacup was rattling so much because Leonard was so surprised to find a girl in his son's bed. 

Things progressed, and Patty was invited up for the weekend to stay on the Farm a few months later. John picked her up from work, she worked on Queen Street at the Auckland Powerboard. John turned up to Queen Street just at the end of the day when she was coming out of the powerboard with her friends in the scruffy old Land Rover. He had two dogs sitting in the front seat of the Land Rover. He got out and pushed the dogs into the back of the Land Rover, looked at the seat, then went and found some newspaper to put down on the seat. He did this so Pat could have a clean seat, not on the muddy seat from the dogs. They then drove up to Waimauku, and Olga Foster had prepared a room for mum, so it wasn't the bed base and blanket this time. On Saturday, they went for a walk around the Farm. The Fosters were putting on a special meal for mum to stay there. The previous week, Leonard and John had shot some fessants. When they walked around the paddock, they went past the sheep shed and on the end of the sheep shed, there was a little abattoir area for keeping animals that had been slaughtered ready for eating. There's no refrigeration or little refrigeration back in those days. Pat said, “what are those things hanging on the side of the shed?” John replied, “that's dinner, that's the fessants, they're just about ready. We allow them to age out in the open, and when they're just almost ready to fall off the necks, they're prepared to be cooked”. Pat went back inside the house and was a bit nervous about having to eat this fessant. Pat was in the kitchen talking to Olga, and Olga said, “do you like fessant?” And she replied “I don't think I've had fessant before. Is it like chicken?”, “Oh, wait, no. I've got pickled pork if you'd prefer”. Patty said. “Yes, pickled pork would be very nice”. So they all had fessant, and she had to pickled pork.

Story 3 - Food when Cooked well 

Food, when cooked well, is good. So, when my dad was growing up, as previously mentioned he was a member of the Muriwai surf club. Going there on the weekends and then coming back on a Sunday night. This particular weekend, Olga was on one of her trips around the world. Leonard had a housekeeper who would come in and look after Leanne and John, cook and clean and that sort of thing, and when John left on Saturday to go to the surf club, Floss said “I'll leave you some food tomorrow night” He replies, “Yep, that's good”. So he went to the surf club and patrols for two days, and then came home late Sunday night, after a few beers, got in and had dinner, went to bed and woke up the following day, and Floss was in the kitchen. Floss said, “You didn't have your dinner last night?” John replied “I did, it was so good that I had a second bowl”. “A second bowl of what?”,” What was on the stove?” And Floss said, “Oh, that's all the leftovers from last week that I've been boiling out with some oats for the dog food”. So when food is cooked well, it's always edible.

Who’s on the dishes?

The Link 

It’s all about eating as a group. The storytelling just flows from there. So if you didn't eat as a group, like you just got your food and disappeared in the room, there'd be no storytelling or passing on stories. Basically, a lot of stuff I remember has been passed on, from people or things that I've heard or seen in the past. My dad was a very good storyteller, he passed on lots of knowledge to me.

Traditions

The key tradition I have bought into my family is sitting and eating as a group, we always did that. It was especially on a Sunday night.  I was gonna say you're expected but everyone wanted to be at that dinner. There were always extended people, it was always more than the family at every meal. It was always extra; both mum and dad tended to collect people.

Do you think that food and memory have a connection?

Food and memory are definitely connected. I think more about the sensory side of food. The smells you know, you'll smell certain things and take you straight back to a place or thing you remember. An example would be if I look at our wine, we make the pinot gris, it's got a very strong peer characteristic to it, the first time I smelt it I suddenly remembered, friends of ours had a huge pear tree in their backyard. When the pears were falling from the tree overripe, you can get that smell through the whole backyard of those ripe pears. The other is, certain meals remind you of certain people. Nasi Goreng will always remind me mum, her favorite Indonesian food. And whenever I cook barbecues I always think of the old boy.

The story will never end with another dinner always insight,  another vintage every year and another day living and making memories to hold on to and share over the table for years to come.

[suitandtiefixation]

Day 55: on land at Auckland and dinner at the Auckland Sky Tower.

I continued my trip around New Zealand’s North Island with a visit to New Zealand’s most populous city, Auckland.

Auckland is a city standing on a privileged position, with a fertile land that lies on and around an isthmus, less than two kilometres wide at its narrowest point and giving the city an hour-glass shape. This narrow part of land is situated between the Manukau Harbour on the Tasman Sea and the Waitematā Harbour on the Pacific Ocean, making it one of the few cities in the world to have a harbour on each of two separate major bodies of water. The city is built on a basaltic volcanic field and the surface features cones, lakes, lagoons , depressions and islands.

The highlight of the day was going up Auckland Sky Tower and having dinner at @thesugarclub restaurant while enjoying of a panoramic view of the city from the top, definitely a nice way to end up the day.

#cunard #aroundtheworld #nz #aucklandharbour #harbour #worldvoyage #auckland #cruise #newzealand #cruiseship #skytower #suitandtiefixation #me #aucklandsky #aucklandskytower #qm2 #cunardline

[lindoig5]

Thursday   Day 28  Ship-cruising the fiords

The ship stayed close to shore for most of the night, but when it moved a little further south in the early morning, our sleep was broken as we rolled around our bunks again in time with the ship.

We were on board all day, but the ship cruised three of the Auckland Island fiords.  It was a very grey day with sporadic rain showers but we were probably better off in the fiords because it was quite rough out in the sea proper.

We explored the Chambers and Musgrave Inlets before going further south deep into the long Carnley Harbour more than halfway across the island.  Most people were on the Bridge for a good deal of the day, but like us, most also escaped to their blogs and books in the bar or their cabins from time to time. There was not a lot to photograph so hiding out in a warm cabin waiting for lunch or dinner offered some attraction too.

Before Happy Hour and dinner, we had another really good Recap Session with lots more questions answered, this time focussing less on the history and more on the wildlife and environment, presumably because we were now well away from Antarctica where that had been a major focus.

After dinner, the ship headed for our last point of call in fairly rough seas so most people had very broken sleep again.  All this expeditioning has turned out to be hard work and we will probably arrive home bruised and battered but with any luck, marginally fitter than we were a month ago.