cliff home


Ancient Cliff Dwellings

Cliff dwellings have existed in many different parts of the world. In many cases, basic homes could be made simply by utilizing the existing walls and roofs of caves. Rock could be tunneled into rather than having to be carved out in great quantities for use as building materials.

  1. Mesa Verde Cliff Dwellings, Colorado, US
  2. The Bandiagara Cliff Dwellings, Mali
  3. The Gila Cliff Dwellings, New Mexico, US
  4. The Uçhisar Cliff Dwellings,Turkey
  5. Manitou Cliff Dwellings, Colorado, US
  6. Guyaju Cave Dwellings, Yanqing District, China

The cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde (picture 1) are part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site and are considered among the best preserved and most important sites of their kind in North America. They were inhabited by Ancestral Pueblo peoples, built between 1190 and 1300 CE. The structures and villages range from a 200 chamber Cliff Palace to single room storage spaces.

The origins of China’s Guyaju cave dwellings (picture 6) are shrouded in mystery, as there are no records of the people who created them. However, they are thought to be over 1,000 years old and may have been the work of the Xiyi people, of whom little is known. The dwellings are the biggest ruins of their kind ever discovered in China and feature 170 caves with more than 350 chambers. Relics such as stone bedding, air vents and rainwater collection devices have been found, as well as caves that housed horses.


“we were in international waters i didn’t think it would count” “IT ALWAYS COUNTS CHELS”

what chels said was straight up gay. why would she mention it otherwise? she obviously didn’t kill anybody or did anything drastically illegal. we also all know how naive she can be, so of course she would think “it didn’t count" if it was something as “trivial” as having sex/relations with another person.

we can probably, PROBABLY assume that she may have cheated on garrett. with whom? probably a woman. hence the way she and rae treated the revelation. (it also of course could’ve easily been another man, but im queer as fuck and like to dream. in my eyes chels is bi af along with rae)

rae wasn’t gonna let that info go, so that shits gotta be important. something like sleeping with someone of the same gender after only showing interest in the other sex seems important between BEST friends.

idk y'all the point of this post is to say that chels and rae are bi and in love, okay? and the writers/producers are not stupid. they all know how the setup (and the chemistry) of the show is. they fucking know they are creating a gay parent/family atmosphere. and they are running as far as they can with it by disney standards.

The Legend of Captain Killian Jones - Part One

CS Halloweek Day 3: Myths, Legends, and Fairytales

The Legend of Captain Killian Jones - Part One

Beta’d by @kmomof4​ / Amazing Artwork by @artistic-writer

Summary: Cursed three hundred years ago to take on ghost form and haunt his family estate, Killian Jones receives a reprieve once every hundred years to take on corporeal form in order to try and break his curse.

A renowned restorationist, Emma Swan takes on the project of bringing the three hundred year old Jones Manor back to its former glory. A manor that is reportedly haunted by the notorious Captain Killian Jones. Good thing Emma doesn’t believe in ghosts.

Rated M (for sexy times in Part 2) / Also available on and ao3 / Line breaks indicate a change of POV / scene

A/N: All thanks, flails, hugs, kisses, chocolate, ticker tape parades, baby animals, and my love to @kmomof4​ and @artistic-writer​. Without your enthusiasm and prompting (and art!!!), I never would have committed to actually writing this. (I know, @winterbaby89​. You tried to have my back, and for that I am grateful! We both should have known better than to go up against momma…) Hope you all enjoy this Ghost/Cursed!Killian Two Shot!! Happy Halloween!

Part One

Dust filled the air as another heavy canvas was removed from the piece of furniture it had been tasked with protecting for many decades. Suppressing a cough, Emma Swan opened a few more windows in order to allow some fresh air in and let the staleness of the room out.

She was well accustomed to the stagnant and musty remnants of disuse in old homes. In fact, she made her livelihood off it. Well, restoring it, anyway. The homes, not the mustiness and decay. That would be weird.

Emma Swan was a sought after restorationist of historical homes and buildings. She loved history, and with the assistance of her handy brother and sister-in-law, she’d been able to turn her love of the past into a successful business that provided for her and her son’s present and future.

Her latest endeavor had brought them all the way to a small port town in England. Misthaven boasted a proud history tied to local lore of pirates and privateers, thanks to the grand three hundred year old manor house that sat upon the cliffs just outside the village that was once reportedly owned by a notorious sea captain.

Over the last several decades, the manor had fallen into disrepair due to its vacancy. Though it was still owned, in trust, by descendents of the original family who built the manor centuries ago, no one had actually lived there for nearly forty years. The family and local historical society wished to see it restored to its original splendor, hoping to draw in some tourism dollars with tours and activities, no doubt.

The manor’s curator, for lack of a better term, had led Emma and her team up to the attic where many of the original furnishings, artworks, and heirlooms resided. It was as good a place as any for Emma to begin her investigative work on the property. Research would have to be done in order to determine the course of decisions made about the restoration. Several remodels and renovations had occurred over the manor’s lifetime, and getting it back to its original state (with some modifications for modern convenience - hello electricity and running water) would take some sleuthing into historical records and references. The more Emma could learn about the manor and its original owners, the better.

Which made the attic’s contents a veritable gold mine of information. Furnishings, portraits, trinkets, knick-knacks, books, personal documents, it was like Christmas morning for Emma as she painstakingly uncovered each piece. Her excitement and intrigue sparked with each fresh discovery, but it was probably the large portrait she had located late in the day that had caught her interest the most.

Her son, Henry, had just arrived with Emma’s sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, telling her that they had picked up dinner, when she’d pulled the last heavy canvas from the framed artwork that was at least a foot taller than she was. Standing before her was the life sized rendering of an incredibly handsome man, garbed in full leather and braced at the helm of a ship. The bronze placard displayed on the ornate frame identified him as Captain Killian Jones.

“You’ve found our local legend, I see,” chirped the curator, a petite blonde woman with a tinkling voice and bubbly exuberance about her.

“Legend?” Emma inquired.

Though she preferred to ground her decisions about a project in fact, Emma knew that legends, tales, and folklore could hold valuable pieces of information as well. The stories had to have a basis of truth behind them somewhere, and those little nuggets could often lead her to revelations about a property and it’s history that records never could.

“Oh, yes,” the curator answered enthusiastically. “His story is well known around these parts. He’s part of the reason we’re eager to have the manor restored. The Legend of Captain Killian Jones is a big draw to the area, his family built the manor.”

“What makes his story so compelling?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Oh, probably the fact that he’s the ghost that haunts this place,” she quipped in reply.

“There’s a ghost?!” Henry exclaimed excitedly.

“There’s no such things as ghosts, kid.”

300 years ago…

Keep reading


Life’s a beach


The further south we drove the more campervans we saw. After travelling for 7 months we’d never seen so many campervans in such a short period of time, I suppose this was obviously the popular part of Europe. As well as an increase in motorhome we also saw an abundance of wildlife, stalks nesting atop telephone poles, Egrets fishing in lagoons, and gangs of gulls pattering across the beaches.

We’d spent the past few days on a beautiful-yet boring-beach. There was no drama to the landscape, just soft rolling dunes into a fantastically blue sea, and endless sunshine. Don’t get me wrong, we loved the area and there were some cool people around, but by now we were keen to see the interesting rock formations and cliffs we’d seen in photos.

Porto Covo was the closest epic and rugged beach we set our sights on, and we weren’t disappointed. Small secluded sandy pull-ins allowed us to park pretty much in our own private wildcamping cliff-side location, as a lot of other motorhomes down the road had opted to park in the town in a paved carpark.

The landscape was rugged and fierce, waves crashed into small caves and coves, with a beautiful assortment of shells lined the beach. Walking along the cliffs to a set of steep winding steps down the cliff-face onto the quiet beach, Theo was in his element in this environment. Surprisingly few people were about which meant we had the place to ourselves.

A major benefit about travelling to this area was the camper disposal point in the town; free waste water and chemical disposal, as well as free drinking water. The camper disposal point also had quite a few motorhomes parked nearby; Portugal really was a campervan haven.

We’d spent two nights in Porto Covo, but as the weather began to sour we chose to head a little further south, ending up at Praia de Amado. A road wound its way along the cliffs but a strong coastal wind had picked up and made parking up there impossible, there’s no way we would have had a wink of sleep with the van being pushed around and an unnecessary fear that the cliffs would collapse. Instead we parked in the sandy car park with about 15 other campervans, no surprise really! An injured Gannet had sat itself in the centre of the road as we approached the car park, and wasn’t keen to move. Thankfully we had Theos phone connected to data that day so I researched a local wildlife rescue centre which turned out to be run by an English expat who assured me they’d have someone out to rescue the Gannet. I wasn’t keen to have my eyes pecked out by its monstrous beak, so I checked on it every half an hour and by the time sun set it must have been removed as it was nowhere to be seen.