#inside seaside festival

[candlelightceremony]

‘We love you Inside Seaside ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥’ via instagram

[miirohs]

sore wa hanabi [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: n/a an: this was inspired by hanabi by ikimonogakari and motospeed 24 by bibi, i fucking love those songs so much UGH. pls ignore the plot holes i was tired and it was like 12 when i started!!! i love writing chat

The last of the sunlight rippled across the water, a slow breeze blowing past you on the steps of the house, watching as the city seemed to come alive.

The sounds of a motorcycle in the distance distracted you, head shooting up from your knees as Professor Sato limped out of the front door, gently setting down his walking stick as he sat next to you.

“He’s coming back home then?”

It wasn’t really a question, rather a statement.

“I believe so. He was out for interviews almost all day.”

He didn’t respond, digging into the pocket of his khaki vest, pulling out a worn flyer and handing it to you.

“What is this?” You asked, gently unfolding the colorful paper.

“It was a fireworks festival. I’m sure they still hold them yearly around here, and Emiko took Kenji often when he was younger. I’ve seen it myself from the apartments sometimes, and they’re a sight to see.” He explained softly, smiling into the distance as your eyes flitted over the contents.

“I see, but what exactly-”

“I think you should go see them, you and Kenji need some alone time as well,” He didn’t let you finish, poking your leg with his walking stick, “Plus, it would be good for me and Mina because we need to get more data on Emi, and Ken won’t let us do that without breath down my shoulders about us hurting her.” 

You could barely respond as he got up, limping his way back to the door without further explanation. “But Ken is going to want to see Emi and-”

“Me and Mina can take care of her if anything happens. If the boy troubles you about that, tell him I told you he was to do so. He may be Ultraman now, but I'm still his father!” He cackled, shaking his head affectionately as he closed the door gently.

The light was gone now, but you could hear the sound of his bike getting closer, rubbing your arms to regain your warmth as you waited. Soon enough, Ken appeared against the twilight sky, silhouette illuminated by the headlights of his parked bike.

“Hey baby, what are you doing out here?” he greeted, tone filled with a mixture of exhaustion and relief upon seeing you.

“The weather was nice out, and the view was gorgeous.” You responded, turning to him as he sat down next to you. “The view is gorgeous from inside too,” He joked, intertwining a hand into yours, “I don’t get why you wanna sit out here, it’s cold and you don’t even have a jacket on.”

You clutched the paper in your other, taking a deep breath in. You had no reason not to, it could be a good surprise.

“You know, i was thinking we haven’t had a proper date night since we moved here and-”

“We had a movie night though!” Ken chimed in, staring at you, confused. It was like he couldn’t see where you were going with it. “Yes, we had a movie night honey, but it was interrupted every ten minutes by the loud baby we happen to be taking care of, remember?” You said, exasperated. 

“I would baby, but what about Emi?” 

“Your dad and Mina can take care of her. He said you’d trouble me about it, and that I should tell you that he insists.” You tilted your head towards the city.

Ken chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like him honestly, but where do you wanna go? You gotta have something planned if you’re insisting on dragging me out.”

“I was thinking we could ride through the city, I'm pretty sure the seaside looks gorgeous at night.” You could barely hold back your smile as he wrinkled his nose, it was almost like you could see the gears turning in his head.

The exhaustion almost seemed to leave his face, a smile taking its place. “Alright, you win. Go get your jacket and meet me out here in… five?” You nodded, getting up from your spot.

“Five minutes,” you repeated to yourself softly, heading inside to grab your jacket. The excitement was building as you folded up the paper, gently hiding it in your pocket as you grabbed your helmet.

He was already near the motorcycle, leaned over the dashboard as you approached him, barely able to contain the excitement.

“I think you remember how to ride a bike, right baby?” You nodded, allowing him to put your helmet on for you, securing it till you felt comfortable. “Of course. I’m ready when you are.”

Ken winked, helping you onto the bike before climbing on himself. The engine roared to life and you wrapped your arms around his waist, adrenaline running through your veins as you started down the path. The wind was fast, seawater blowing into your face as you both skirted across the water.

​​The city was a blur of nightlights as you weaved through the streets, laughs of delight leaving your mouth as you turned and sped down the straights. The neon signs and billboards created a colorful mosaic, a dazzling display of light. 

Ken glanced back at you briefly, shouting something at you, a wide smile on his face as he pressed down on the accelerator.

“This feels so familiar, what are you doing to make this happen baby?!” You pressed your face into his face, barely hiding the grin on your face as you shouted back. “A magician never tells Ji!” 

You slowed near the city limits, allowing for you to nudge him in the direction you wanted to go. The city faded into quieter roads, riding on the outskirts of the city, the smell of the sea intermingling with the scent of his perfume. The waves crashed against the seawall, spraying you with water.

You looked up, narrowed eyes growing wide as bright lights went off in the sky.

“There, look!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the distant explosions of the fireworks. You squeezed Ken’s waist, taking one hand off to point up at the sky.

He followed your hand, relaxing in awe as he watched the colorful display unfold above you. It wasn’t long until you found a place to park, Ken eagerly pulling you off the motorcycle, running down to the beach with you in hand.

“Sup- Whoa, surprise Ji!” You laughed as you both stumbled, pulling closer to the source of the lights. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath your feet as you stood on the shore, fireworks exploding in a variety of colors.

Greens, pinks and golds colored the sky, painting the dark with bangs of light, fizzling out just as quickly as they came up.

“Your mom used to bring you here before you moved, didn’t she?” You looked at him, the light reflecting in his glassy eyes, softened by nostalgia.

"Yeah, she did. How did you know?"

“I’ve heard a thing or two about your trips.” You commented to the side, allowing him to lead you aimlessly, "I thought you might like to revisit those memories." You squeezed his hand as he paused once more, turning to look at you.

“She used to call them something else- hanabi. It was the Japanese word for fireworks, I think.” He brought up a hand, wiping his eye on his free arm.

“That sounds beautiful,” You turned to him, floating closer and closer every second.

There was nothing more to be said, holding his hand with as much affection as you could, fireworks exploding somewhere in the background. The light illuminated the sharpness of his features, and you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Ken. 

His lips met yours, soft yet firm. The fireworks seemed to pause for that brief moment, allowing you to be trapped in the bubble you’d made for yourselves. Ken's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if he was never going to let go.

en rested his forehead against yours as you pulled apart. His eyes scanned yours, as if trying to capture every detail of the moment to memory.

"I've missed this," Ken murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as you pulled away.

“No kidding, we should do this more often shouldn’t we?” You giggled, running your finger down the ridges of his nose, booping the tip.

Ken nodded quietly, allowing you to lean in closer once more. "Definitely. It's moments like these that make life more bearable."

You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. The last of the embers faded into the sky, pieces of your heart drifting off with them as you watched Ken.

"Let's come back here again," Ken suggested softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "Definitely," you agreed. You could get used to it.

[agronzky]

⠀⠀⠀𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒. ♡

Below you’ll find five plots created inspired by the songs of the swedish group ABBA. These can be used in romantic plots, but also adapted for other types of narrative.

ONE OF US. ( 1981, The Visitors )

Muse a and muse b had a relationship for a few years, but broke up for having very opposite visions of life. Muse a is an artist, sees the world in color and dreams of knowing more about everything, being an enthusiast of all things creative and artistic. Meanwhile, muse b is a businessperson who comes from a traditional family and has always dreamed of becoming the best in their field and living a peaceful life. A few years after breaking up, they meet again, having achieved some of their dreams. Muse a is a recognized artist, travels the world and can live life according to their own wishes, while muse b has achieved a high position in a global company, is recognized and lectures on business and how to achieve objectives. However, they both feel there is something missing in their lives and cannot feel truly fulfilled. The reunion therefore causes mixed feelings, mainly fights about the past, about how muse a cried for months or how muse b felt too small and useless. But something inside them still shines through and maybe there's still a chance. Or will someone get hurt in this story once again?

WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE ME? ( 1976, Arrival )

In a charming seaside village lives muse a, a talented young violinist whose passion for music sets them apart from the rest. Cheerful as ever, their contagious joy and love of life has always attracted curious eyes, especially those of muse b, an introspective painter who finds beauty in the little things. Their lives take an unexpected turn when a summer festival is announced in the town, promising a talent contest. Muse a and muse b end up getting involved in the planning of the contest, causing them to suddenly grow closer and start spending a lot of time together, whether naturally or not. Because muse a is very authentic and distracted, they get into a lot of trouble to make the contest happen, which forces muse b out of their comfort zone. Feelings begin to emerge naturally, making them think "Why did it have to be me?" and deciding, unaware of the other's decision, to perform in the show as a way of expressing their feelings.

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY. ( 1976, Arrival )

In the busy alleys of a bustling city, muse a is trapped in a routine of debt and financial difficulties. Working tirelessly at a job that barely pays the bills, they dream of a life of luxury and comfort. In a twist of fate, muse a meets muse b, a charismatic businessperson who has always lived in a world where money has never been a problem. When they notice muse a's situation, muse b decides to hide their lifestyle for fear of being attracted to them for that reason alone. Muse a begins to get closer to muse b, having someone to talk to who seems to understand everything. However, muse b's lies start to cause a lot of confusion for both of them and they have to choose whether they really want muse a to live in a lie forever or to tell the truth.

LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME. ( 1980, Supertrouper )

In the picturesque setting of a coastal island lives muse a, a lonely sculptor whose heart was closed after a traumatic relationship. Everything changes when they meet muse b, a mysterious person who arrives on the island in search of a fresh start. As they grow closer, muse a discovers the painful secrets that muse b hides, making their time together a way to begin to heal past wounds. Discovering they've both been through toxic relationships and a series of betrayals, muse a and muse b contemplate the possibility of love no longer existing and have to deal with this situation. But when muse b's former partner turns up on the island looking for reconciliation, muse a realizes that their hearts are no longer closed to love. They're completely won over by muse b and will do whatever to have them.

WATERLOO. ( 1974, Waterloo )

Muse a is a determined and charismatic person who works as a tour guide in a historic town. Their lives change when they meet muse b, a charming and enigmatic historian. Their attraction is immediate, but they soon discover sharing a rivalry in the search for information about an ancient secret of the city. As muse a and muse b compete to unravel the centuries-old mystery in an almost real war of espionage and tactics, they discover how they'll need to combine the information they've collected individually if they really want to uncover the secret. As time goes by, they discover more in common than previously thought, find it much easier to work together and start to having a lot of fun with everything discovering more of the town and themselfs.

[doormatty3]

Surface-Dweller Traditions: Christmas (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You] Life with Orm is always a mix of discovery and contrast—his Atlantean heritage often colliding with your everyday human traditions. From decorating trees and trying festive foods to marvelling at fireworks or enduring bustling crowds, Orm’s reserved demeanour softens as he experiences the joy and warmth of human traditions with you. OR: A series of unrelated one-shots and mini-fics about the many types of festivities Orm and you share.

Wordcount: 3,693

A/N: Merry Christmas y'all! My present for you: Some more of Orm x Marine Biologist Reader, with Orm being overwhelmed with human traditions and slowly learning This will be.. a few OS of traditions and festivities our favourite Atlantean can experience for the first time (feel free to request some lol) Also, this chapter is just pure fluff

Orm Marius, former King of Atlantis, lingered in the doorway of your cosy seaside cottage, framed by the quiet beauty of the snow-laden night. The moonlight glinted off his silvery blonde hair and sharp features, lending him an otherworldly presence that never failed to take your breath away. 

Yet, tonight, there was a vulnerability to him that you rarely saw. He stood stiffly, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, taking in the string lights that draped the walls, the flickering candles on the mantle, and the Christmas tree glowing softly in the corner, its branches adorned with ornaments and garlands in various stages of assembly. His expression was one of wary curiosity—as if he were stepping into enemy territory.

You set down the ornament you were holding and turned to greet him with a smile. “You’re just in time to help me finish decorating,” you said, brushing your hands on your jeans. “How was your walk?”

Orm stepped inside, his heavy boots creaking against the wooden floor, and closed the door behind him. “Cold,” he said bluntly, shaking a few snowflakes from his sweater as he took off his shoes and changed into some cosy slippers you gave him some time ago. He paused, his gaze flickering to the tree. “This… Christmas,” he began, his voice low and deliberate as the tide, “it seems an odd ritual. Are you certain it is not a form of surface-world combat?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No battles, I promise,” you said, walking over to him and cupping his cheek, his stubble rough against your palm. “Christmas is a celebration. It’s about family, love, and spending time with the people who matter most.”

His gaze softened slightly, though his brows remained furrowed, your hand seemingly grounding him in the moment. “It seems impractical to centre an entire season around something so intangible,” he said, gesturing toward the decorations with a regal wave of his hand. “In Atlantis, our celebrations honour duty and tradition. They have purpose.”

You brushed your thumb over his sharp cheekbone before reaching down and grabbing his hand, your fingers threading through his. Almost instinctively, Orm’s hand closed around yours, his large palm dwarfing yours and engulfing it completely. A gesture he had done countless times since you entered a relationship. “This has a purpose, too,” you said gently. “It’s about creating memories. About finding joy in the little things.”

“Joy,” Orm echoed, his voice tinged with scepticism. He looked at you as if you were trying to explain some elusive, surface-world concept that defied his understanding. “Joy seems fleeting. Impermanent.”

“Maybe it is,” you admitted, “but that doesn’t make it any less important. And,” you added with a teasing smile, “you’re here now. So…help me decorate. This isn’t just my tradition anymore. It’s ours. If you want it to be.”

His expression shifted, a glimmer of something unspoken flickering in his eyes. “Ours,” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word and gently squeezing your hand. Then, with a small incline of his head, he added, “Very well. Show me what must be done.”

You led him to the table where the remaining ornaments were laid out, each one carrying its own little story. Orm’s curiosity was evident as he picked up a delicate glass starfish, turning it over in his hands with reverence. “This is artful,” he said. “Did you create it?”

“No, I found it at a marine biology conference years ago,” you explained. “But now it reminds me of you.”

“Of me?” Orm raised a sceptical brow, turning it over in his hands, his long digits tracing the ornaments’ delicate contours. “A starfish? Do I resemble one?”

“Not literally,” you said, laughing. “But they’re resilient. They survive even when the odds are against them. They regenerate. They’re strong, just like you.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face—surprise, perhaps, or something deeper. Without a word, he stepped toward the tree and carefully placed the ornament on one of the lower branches, adjusting it until it hung just right.

“Is that satisfactory?” he asked, turning to you with a faint smirk.

“Perfect,” you said, beaming, stepping back to admire his work. “You’re a natural.”

“Hardly,” he replied, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

As the evening wore on, Orm began to relax, his initial awkwardness giving way to a quiet curiosity. He strung garlands with military precision, muttering about the string getting stuck on the branches, and listened intently as you explained the stories behind each ornament.

“This one,” you said, holding up a small wooden lighthouse, “was carved by my grandfather. He used to say it was a reminder to always find your way home.”

Orm’s expression softened. “A wise sentiment.”

“And this one,” you continued, picking up a tiny dolphin figurine, “was a gift from my mentor after my first successful research dive. I was so nervous, but she told me I had the heart of the sea in me.”

“You do,” Orm said quietly. His words caught you off guard, and you turned to find him watching you, his gaze steady, unguarded and loving.

A faint blush rose to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you murmured, setting the ornament on the tree.

When the tree was nearly complete, you reached for the final touch—the star for the top. Standing on your toes, you tried to stretch high enough to place it, but the branch was just out of reach.

You let out a small huff of frustration. “I might need a chair for this,” you muttered.

“Nonsense,” Orm said, stepping behind you. Before you could protest, his hands settled firmly on your waist. “Allow me.”

His touch was steady, his palms broad and warm even through the fabric of your sweater, the strength in his arms and shoulders evident as he held you aloft. In one smooth motion, he lifted you as though you weighed nothing at all.

You felt the strength in his grip, the muscles in his forearms and shoulders flexing with effortless control. He held you securely, his body solid and grounding beneath you. Yet, there was also a gentleness in the way he supported you, as though he were cradling something precious.

“You didn’t have to—” you began, your voice faltering slightly as you placed the star at the top of the tree, “I could have just gotten a chair.”

“It is my duty,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “If this is to be our tradition, then it must be done properly…and also, why deprive me of the opportunity to touch my girlfriend.”

Blushing, you adjusted the star until it sat perfectly straight. “How’s that?”

“Perfect,” he murmured. His hands lingered on your waist as he slowly set you back down, his touch gentler now. For a moment, you stood there, caught in the warmth of his presence, the faint scent of salt and the sea clinging to him like a memory.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

“It was nothing,” he replied, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—a quiet pride, perhaps, or just the love he felt for you.

Later that evening, the two of you sat down for dinner at the small table by the window. The scent of roasted vegetables, honey glaze, and perfectly grilled fish filled the cosy room. 

You had prepared the meal with Orm in mind, knowing of his love for seafood and also reminiscent of how much he missed Atlantis.

Each detail of the setting had been carefully chosen—a small vase of winter flowers at the centre of the table, soft candlelight reflecting on the frosty windowpanes. It was intimate and warm, a sharp contrast to the cold depths Orm once ruled.

“What is this dish called?” Orm asked, his sharp blue eyes scanning his plate with the careful scrutiny of a tactician surveying a battlefield. In the glow of the Christmas tree behind him, his angular features seemed to soften further. 

The mild, shifting lights illuminated his hair, and his eyes, bright and blue as a sunlit sea, caught and reflected the warmth of the room. At that moment, he looked both regal and human, a mesmerising contradiction.

“It’s roasted squash and potatoes with a honey glaze,” you explained, pointing to each component, “and grilled fish—caught fresh this morning. I thought you’d appreciate the seafood.”

Orm’s lips curved into a genuine smile, one that lit up his usually serious face and softened the sharp lines of his features. It was a smile he seemed to save just for you, and every time you saw it, your heart swelled.

“You know me well, my love,” he said, his voice warm and steady.

You couldn’t help but smile back, your chest filling with a deep, unshakable affection for the man sitting across from you. In moments like this, you were reminded of just how much you loved him—his strength, his vulnerability, and the quiet, unwavering care he showed you in everything he did.

You tried not to stare as he took his first bite, but your gaze betrayed you. His expression remained inscrutable as he chewed slowly, analysing the flavours as if they might reveal some hidden truth about surface dwellers. Finally, he nodded, placing his fork down with a quiet clink. “It is… satisfactory .”

For a moment, you blinked at him, unsure if he was joking or genuinely serious. Then, laughter bubbled up and spilled out of you, filling the small dining room. “Satisfactory?” you repeated incredulously, trying to keep a straight face. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Orm’s brow lifted in that familiar way, a regal expression that might have been intimidating if it weren’t for the faint curve of his lips. The subtle smile softened his otherwise sharp features, giving him an almost boyish charm. “In Atlantis,” he began in his ever-composed tone, “satisfactory is high praise. It signifies balance—neither excessive nor insufficient. It implies…” He paused, his blue eyes sparkling with quiet amusement, “…perfection.”

You folded your arms and leaned back in your chair, shaking your head with a grin. “Oh, perfection, huh? Well, forgive me for misunderstanding, Your Highness,” you teased. “But next time, I’ll save myself the effort and just grab a greasy burger and fries. You probably wouldn’t notice the difference.”

Grinning, you pointed your fork at him, a mock warning in your tone. “And if you keep being this critical, I might not even bother seasoning it!”

Orm’s eyes widened slightly, and he laughed. It was low and rich, a sound that seemed to rumble up from deep within his chest, warming the room like sunlight breaking through clouds. Raising his hands in mock surrender, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his smile broadening into something more relaxed, more loving.

“Peace, my love,” he said, his voice tinged with gentle humour. “I yield to your culinary expertise. I was merely joking. Your cooking is wonderful, as always.”

The sincerity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. For all his wit and formality, Orm had a way of softening when he was with you, his smiles and compliments carrying an intimacy that only you were privileged to witness.

“You’re forgiven,” you said, still grinning, though your heart felt full to bursting. “But only because I love you.”

Orm leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he regarded you with that piercing gaze that always made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. “I am most fortunate, then,” he replied, his tone low and intimate.

As the meal continued, the two of you fell into easy conversation. Orm began to share stories of Atlantean celebrations—vivid depictions of grand processions that wound through the glowing coral cities, ceremonies steeped in tradition, and bioluminescent displays that transformed the deep into a kaleidoscope of living light.

“There is a particular festival,” he said, his tone tinged with pride. “The Feast of Tides. It is held to honour the shifting currents that guide us and the sea creatures that sustain our people. The city pulses with song, and even the waters seem to dance.”

Your mind drifted back to the time Orm had taken you to Atlantis—a moment early in your relationship. The vibrant, surreal beauty of the city beneath the waves had been overwhelming: spires of coral that shimmered with an inner light, creatures that glowed in the darkened depths, and the hauntingly beautiful songs that seemed to resonate through the water itself. You had never felt more like an outsider, and yet, Orm’s steady presence at your side had made you feel protected. Made you feel like you belonged.

“It sounds incredible,” you said, leaning forward, captivated by the vivid picture he painted. “It reminds me of when you showed me Atlantis for the first time. Everything was so alive. It felt like stepping into another world.”

Orm’s gaze softened, a flicker of pride and something deeper crossing his features. “You adapted quickly for someone who had never felt the pressure of the deep nor seen the creatures beneath the waves.”

You smiled, a little embarrassed but warmed by his praise. “It helped that I had the former king of Atlantis guiding me.”

His lips twitched before breaking into a smile again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “A king who now decorates trees and eats roasted squash,” he said dryly, though his tone held no bitterness—only a quiet, soft acceptance of how much his life had changed. “The currents have carried us to strange places.”

“They have,” you agreed. “But they’ve carried us together. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great with all the surface-world traditions. Even if you think they’re odd.”

Orm’s expression shifted as his gaze turned thoughtful. “Perhaps. If the currents align, and the surface is kind, there may be more of these… traditions to learn.” His words were wistful, carrying the weight of someone trying to balance two worlds, yet willing to try for you—willing to continue trying for you.

After dinner, the two of you decided to take a walk along the beach behind your cottage. The snow that had lightly dusted the sand earlier was now mostly melted, leaving patches of dampness that sparkled faintly under the silvery moonlight. 

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, glancing over at Orm as the two of you walked along the beach behind your house.

His long coat swayed with his movements, and his posture remained as regal as ever, though there was an ease to his stride that you didn’t often see. He had refused a hat, of course, claiming it unnecessary despite the cold.

The ocean stretched out in its eternal rhythm, its waves gently lapping against the shore in whispers. Each crest caught the moonlight, creating an otherworldly glow that illuminated the vast, dark, endless expanse of water. The air was crisp, carrying the faint briny tang of salt, and the stars above were like scattered diamonds on a velvet canvas.

Orm’s eyes were drawn to the horizon, his expression contemplative as he walked beside you. 

The moonlight caught his features, accentuating the chiselled planes of his face and the sheen of his hair that glistened in an almost ethereal silver, the strands shimmering like liquid light. His blue eyes, so striking in daylight, seemed to hold the entire ocean’s depth in their gaze, glowing faintly as if lit from within.  

There was a serenity to his expression, but his gaze held an intensity that always set your heart fluttering.

He glanced down at you as you walked, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’ve grown quiet,” he remarked, his deep voice cutting through the gentle sound of the waves.

You turned your face toward him, smiling softly. “I was just thinking about how beautiful this is,” you said, gesturing to the sea and sky around you. “And how lucky I am to be sharing it with you.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, taking your hand in his. His grip was firm but warm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent a pleasant shiver up your spine. “It is beautiful,” he agreed, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. “But the surface world’s beauty is fleeting. It does not endure as the depths do.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s so special,” you countered. “Because it doesn’t last forever. You have to cherish it while it’s here.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. 

The moonlight framed him like a painting, casting a silver halo around his tall, imposing figure. His gaze searched yours, as if looking for something he had yet to name. Snowflakes clung to his lashes, and for a moment, he looked as though he belonged more to this world than the one beneath the waves.

“You are... unlike anyone I have ever known,” he said quietly. “You see the world with such hope. Such... resilience. It is both confounding and admirable.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “And you,” you said, stepping closer, “are far more than the former king who once waged war on the surface. You care deeply, even if you don’t always show it. You’re strong, yes, but you’re also kind.”

For a moment, the only sound was the whisper of the waves and the distant cry of a gull. Orm’s gaze softened, and he raised a hand to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was featherlight, yet it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I deserve you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing gently along his cheekbone. “Orm,” you said, your voice firm but filled with affection, “you deserve every bit of happiness and peace. You’ve fought for so long, carried so much. Let yourself have this. Let yourself have us.”

His lips parted as if to say something, but he hesitated, the vulnerability in his expression making your chest ache. Instead of speaking, he stepped closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. The moonlight reflected in his eyes, turning them into shimmering pools of silver and blue. 

“You remind me of the tides,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “Ever-changing, unpredictable. Yet constant in your pull. I can never seem to escape you... nor do I wish to.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into his touch, your hand resting lightly against his chest. Beneath your palm, you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, strong and unyielding. His warmth seeped through the fabric of his shirt, grounding you in the moment.

“You don’t have to escape,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

Orm’s expression softened further, a smile gracing his lips—small but genuine. “Here,” he murmured, his fingers tilting your chin up, “with you.”

He leaned down, his movements unhurried, as though savouring the anticipation of the kiss. When his lips met yours, it was with the practised intimacy of lovers who had kissed a thousand times before, yet each time felt new. 

His mouth was warm against yours, his kiss deep and deliberate, as if he were trying to pour all the unspoken things he struggled to express into that single moment. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your fingers tangling in the silken strands of his hair.

The sound of the waves and the cool night air faded into the background, leaving only the heat of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breath against your cheek. 

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath mingled with yours in the cold air. Snowflakes continued to fall around you, landing on his lashes and catching in his hair like tiny, fleeting jewels.

“You make me forget everything else,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “The weight of my past, the conflict of my worlds—it all fades when I’m with you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

His lips curved into a soft smile, his blue eyes shining with a rare vulnerability. “And I love you,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “More than I ever thought myself capable of.”

The look he gave you then was one of pure devotion, his blue eyes gleaming like the ocean at sunrise. He nodded slightly, as though sealing some silent vow, before pulling you into another kiss—this one softer, filled with the kind of quiet reverence that made your heartache in the best way.

“Let’s walk a little further,” you said, taking his hand.

Orm allowed you to guide him, his fingers intertwining with yours as the two of you continued along the snowy shoreline. The quiet was companionable now, filled with the unspoken bond you shared.

As you reached a cluster of rocks near the edge of the beach, you paused, turning to look back at your cottage. The warm glow of the lights spilling from the windows, the soft twinkle of the Christmas tree visible even from here—it was the picture of home.

Orm’s gaze followed yours, and his expression grew thoughtful. “This world,” he said softly, “is not without its beauty. I see now why you cherish it so deeply.”

“And now it’s your world, too,” you said, squeezing his hand. “Our world.”

He turned back to you, his smile returning. “Our world,” he agreed, his voice filled with a quiet reverence.

You laughed softly, a sudden thought striking you. “Merry Christmas, Orm,” you said, your tone light but full of affection.

He looked at you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as though testing the words. Then, his smile widened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

[lazyjellyfish300]

nanamelly༘♡ source: pinterest

And how we spent Christmas under the cut (with some help and inspiration from @mysteria157 for the beautiful fic she wrote me 🥹🥹):

Christmas Eve morning is slow as we savor every moment we can alone together before we expect company for the holiday. 💕

We feed our animals, stealing moments again behind the barn doors and brew some fresh coffee and enjoy leftover poppyseed muffins before we make the drive to the seaside village to pick up Kento's mother.

While we're in town, we drop off Christmas jam to the neighbors and give our holiday wishes before we head back to the farmhouse.

After his mom settles in, I start the holiday potpourri that I prepared ahead of time on the stove. His mom crochets, sitting at the bar because I told her to relax despite offering to help several times. She'll tell me all about Christmas memories past from Kento's childhood while Kento smokes the turkey outside. Sometimes she can't remember exact details, so when Kento comes inside between preparing the turkey for a cup of coffee, he'll fill in the gaps, turning a healthy shade of blush at times while I just giggle from the stove. 💕

After a turkey dinner with cranberry sauce, our famous candied yams, and mashed potatoes, we always watch It's a Wonderful Life and read The Night Before Christmas poem before bed while we stuff each other's stockings and do one early round of presents between him, his mom, and me.

Then, in the morning we'll give our animals their Christmas breakfasts which is usually some scraps from the previous night and juicy apples and carrots.

We'll have a Christmas quiche and French toast and open presents. Then it's calm before the storm with movies, peppermint hot chocolate, and an afternoon nap with Kento's mom passed out on the recliner, and Kento and I on the couch while the Christmas tunes are still going.

Eventually, all of our friends and family including Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and Yaga arrive and it's a mad house but the farmhouse is cozy and festive while we all laugh together and catch up.

We enjoy shepherds pie for Christmas dinner along with homemade rolls, winter berry salad, and cheesy potatoes and all of our Christmas goodies for dessert including bread pudding and gingerbread cookies.

We all gather around and watch Yuji and Kento duke it out on the Super Nintendo while Megumi reads, Nobara and my best friend get a midnight round of cookies in the oven, and Yaga chats off the neighbors ears about garden tips. Kento's mother crochets, while her dog Franz goes to town on a new chew toy, and I watch the whole thing circled up in a blanket with a fresh cup and Kento's hand on my thigh. 💕

And then, when all of our guests are tucked in the beds, and it's just Kento and I by the fireplace, exchanging the final gifts, our gifts each other, which concludes with our own expression of gratitude to one another that burns long into the early morning hours until we fall asleep tangled up in one another. 💕

[giigil]

10.18: 𖤓 ﹒The Prince in search of the Truth.

The Lady Knight Series.

Notes: ALRIGHT YALL. BIGGEST AU WE HAVE YET FOR BOTS. YAHHHHHHH. The first bot we have in a line of however many I can fucking come up with. LOL. There's a guide for this inside the bot itself if you wanna read up. There's no need to follow it, though! It's free real estate. 😎😎😎 Go crazy mfs

Guide.

Steering his steed down the beaten dirt path of Innisboia Wood, not too far from the mountainous nation of the Kingdom of Todora, Prince Satoru mutters under his breath, a downcast look in his eyes as he’s lost deep in thought.

“Was it all a lie?” he asks himself quietly, his grip on the reins tightening the further he travels through the quiet, desolate forest. “Damnit—where the hell are you?”

𖤓

Two days prior was Todora’s annual kingdom-wide celebration. After completing his orderlies, Satoru invited his knight and close confidant Aiko to tag alongside him, and they spent the rest of the day with one another. No armor, no weapon, or formalities required; they were just two normal people enjoying the festivities together without a worry for titles or duties. It concluded in good spirits with a grand spectacle of fireworks and Satoru escorting her back to her living quarters with the two bidding their farewells.

For once, Satoru was happy, even with his arranged marriage to Princess Utahime nearing.

That following afternoon, however, he received news that she disappeared and declared a traitor by his father’s council. They charged her with treason, placed an abnormally large bounty on her head, and sent a group of men outside the kingdom’s walls to retrieve her.

In the dead of night, he set off on his own to search for her. He doesn’t believe a word that comes from those bastards in the council; they’re old and pompous, with no regard to anything around them. They especially aren't favorable to {{user}} as she's the kingdom’s first female knight.

Satoru is in a hurry to find {{user}} before anyone else does; he wants to hear the truth from her with his own ears.

There are three places he believes she might have gone: Bordraine Grove, the place she often accompanied him to when he needed a breather from his life as a royal; her native village, Allidea; or the seaside Principality of Kairos.

[aziraphales-library]

howdy! i was wondering if you could rec some really tropey ineffable wives fics? i really liked the blesséd language of flowers by elfontheshelf!

Hello! Here are some delightfully tropey ineffable wives fics for you...

i was so tempted (i wouldn't dare) by rubyknowbys (T)

It’s a message delivered to the wrong number that brought Antonia J. Crowley and Aziraphale Fell together and, even in anonymity, a friendship inevitably made something deeper flourish amongst shared texts. Antonia started working at Medium’s Bookshop, they finally scheduled a date, and Aziraphale was thrilled to know that she’s going to meet the owner of the irresistible words, which made her fall in love so quickly. But the bookshop supervisor didn’t imagine that their new employee, who she detested even more each day, is the same woman who has been sending her those anonymous darling messages all along.

And when she found out, the information created a new dilemma inside her mind, while her most powerful impulse became to try to win Antonia’s heart smoothly: should Aziraphale tell her?

Just Like You Were Brand New by SilenceDogood117 (T)

There are two things Aziraphale Fell hates: 1) people checking out books from her library and 2) Christmas. Already gritting her teeth to get through the festive season, she is further alarmed to hear that Antonia Crowley has come back to town for the first time in 14 years.

Cue Christmas absurdities, reading contests, old memories, and the occasional duck.

Take the Monet and Run by SilenceDogood117 (M)

Convicted art thief Antoinette Crowley is fresh out of prison, fresh out of a marriage, and determined to settle an old score with one last heist. She’s certainly not going to be distracted by the reappearance of a face from the past. That would be entirely counterproductive.

I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)

In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…

How To Fall (In Love with an Angel) by die_traumerei (M)

It's not a meet-cute, because they don't actually meet, and that's the worst part of Crowley seeing the most beautiful woman in the world, stumbling, and breaking her ankle. She gets the weeks in plaster, and none of the pretty lady -- at least at first.

In a village small enough that the Queer community is more like a family, it's no time at all before Crowley and Aziraphale meet, and set about courting each other. Secrets are shared, flirtation is had, and Crowley falls again; just this time, the local A&E isn't involved.

don't read too much into it by mllekurtz (M)

Discovering the identity of the guardian angel who sheltered her from the rain on a dreary Monday morning won’t be easy, but Crowley (beleaguered junior editor in a London publishing house and human disaster) can’t think of anything else.

And the one you mentioned...

The blesséd language of flowers by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

Crowley has given up on her life in the big city and decided to retire early to the lovely village of Tadfield. She expected a run-off-the-mill early retirement. Maybe playing bridge with a couple of old ladies and maybe taking a part in organising some of the village fetes. What she did not expect was actually competing against the woman she had developed a crush on in the village floral competitions and hence that particular woman instantly taking a dislike to her. She also did not expect that for the sake of the village's reputation they would have to band together and participate as a couple for nationals, because why not...

- Mod D

[blisteringstar]

Prompt #8

Inwa read in a book that the first step to recovery after grief was to trim out the items that reminded you of that. He's pretty sure it was some self-help book. There was also something or other about things sparking joy and thanking them for their service, but he didn't want to go quite that far. Getting rid of them was enough.

The ring he got from someone in Eulmore was first. It was payment for telling them something they wanted to know, but he never thought the ring was equal pay for what little he did. When what the soothsayer was looking for was the person closest to Inwa, that didn't call for acknowledgment. In fact, he had done everything he could to keep them apart. The secret of their history was known to Inwa, but he didn't want to encourage the murder and devouring of one's own shard that would come with them finding each other.

It was a ring from part of one of the people he loved most, and so he had kept it close. After being passed over for another, perhaps he had clung a little too much to a trinket that meant nothing to anyone other than him. Now it was placed in the box and he would never see it again.

A toothbrush was next to enter the box, followed by a few articles of clothing. He was quick to realize there weren't many things to shed. All of the gifts he ever received from others were put together in a spot near the door to be kept dear. Even the set of armor he received sat in a cabinet next to everything else, despite how cumbersome it was up get in and out of its storage place.

His home sometimes felt more like a sterile prison than a place of warmth, and it became more and more true the more he thought about how much it lacked life. Ever since the renovation, he hated being alone in it. Now that he was cleaning out items from the ones he used to be close to, the reason why began to beat in the back of his mind like a drum.

No one ever lived here. Not even him. He always conformed to the needs of others and placed himself where they needed him most, even if that was not where he wanted to be.

There was one more item, he remembers as his eyes go up its spot on the wall. It was the painting of the cliff he watched the sea from when he needed to think. It was a place he used to frequent until he was attacked there. He loved the painting when he received it. It had sat in a place where he could always see it and remember the salty seaside.

With a heavy sigh, he reached to either side of it, lifting it up and taking it down off the wall. With a turn, he took a few steps to the box and placed the painting inside.

"That should be the last of it," he murmured to himself, bending down to place his arms around the box and lift it up. When he moved to stand, something flew into the hood of his jacket, giving Inwa a start that almost caused him to drop the box he had only just lifted.

Toushiro, his pet bat, had buried herself in his clothes, opting to go with him wherever he was headed. Inwa turned his head and smiled back at her.

"Are you worried I'm going to get rid of you, too? I would never do that. You and my staff aren't going anywhere," he cooed affectionately back at the burrowing bat, more than content to let her hitch a ride with him and be his companion as he made his way out of the house.

He had a meeting with Talia on the beach. For missing the late-summer festivals in Hingashi, he had decided they could hold their own evening of sending the past on its way with a good old-fashioned bonfire.

With one last look back at the silent house, he stepped outside, closed the door behind him, and endeavored not to look back anymore.

[juniaships]

Rosie Earns A Star Chapter 1:

Rosie gets a new engineer however she is not who she seems. Meanwhile there's news of an actress who disappeared, Schemer violates railway protocol to film his own pilot series, and Arthur tries not to strangle sometime. Mix of TATMR, RWS & TVS because I am not a "purist"; I love Thomas the tank engine in all its form! Not a shipfic, this is purely platonic!!

Times have changed and so have interests. As people think about what they want to do in their lives, some have taken upon themselves to rebuild themselves from the ground up. Others are too busy to realize what they need is right in front of them. Arthur thinks a trip to the seaside could help clear their minds.

Or a well-aimed rock at their heads. - The Author.

"Famous Actress Disappears in Spain!"

Mrs. Stone read the headline aloud as she flipped through the newspaper. It was breakfast time and the Stone family were getting ready to take Lily for her annual trip to Muffle Mountain.

"Who is it?" Lily asked as she looked up from her bowl of cereal.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, dear." Lily swallowed then asked again. Smiling, Mrs. Stone read aloud:

"Brittany Wilson was scheduled to appear at a movie festival later this month. She was last seen at a hair salon in Madrid Thursday afternoon. Her whereabouts are currently unknown, and her family have not spoken to the press."

Lily grew intrigued.

"When they checked the hotel all of her belongings were gone," finished Mrs. Stone.

"Oh that Brittany Wilson! I heard of her before! I haven't watched a lot of her movies but my friends love her. I hope she's alright."

Mrs. Stone nodded in agreement.

"It could be a publicity stunt but who knows in this crazy world we live in."

After breakfast the Stones got in their car and drove to the public transit. Lily bid her mother goodbye and promised to text her when she got to Shining Time.

As the train shuffled along the tracks, Lily couldn't help but feel concern for the missing actress.

In another universe, Mr. Conductor was also getting ready for the day. The tv was playing in the background (he liked a little music to get his engine started, pun intended) when suddenly the news came. It was about the missing actress. They had her picture on the screen: a Black woman with light brown curls and a pink and grey dress sitting inside a salon.

"They still haven't found her yet," he said to himself. "That's troubling."

He wasn't into the celebrity gossip like his cousin. But even he was a little concerned for her wellbeing. She probably had a family waiting anxiously for her return. His thoughts were on his mind even as he sparkled up at the Shining Time office to get his itinerary.

"Let's see, first on the list find a new driver for Rosie."

As he went over the potential substitutes, one of the tulips in his flower vase rang. He went over to answer it.

"Mr. Conductor you have a visitor," Stacy said on the other end. "They're here for the training."

"Training?" He looked over at the whiteboard.

"Oh right! I forgot we have a new hire today! Well bring them on in!"

A moment later the door opened, and in came a person in a dark overcoat and pants. Their hair was tucked underneath a gray hat.

'Odd choice of outfit for this kind of weather,' Mr. Conductor said to himself.

"Are you Mr. Conductor? I'm here for my first day." The woman said shyly. She handed him a folder. He looked over the files, then to her, then over the files again. The lady stared expectantly at him.

"Terri Bud eh? Well, we do need a set of extra hands & these papers are legit," he said.

"They kinda rushed me through training," Terri Bud said quickly. "If you like I can get Miss Jones to corroborate."

"Oh no that's alright love! You are in good hands with us!"

"Cool," Terri said as she shook his hand. "And for future reference just call me Bud."

A cherry red tank engine was in her shed reminiscing about her retired driver when Mr. Conductor arrived with the new hire.

"Good morning Mr conductor! I see you have a visitor," Rosie chirped merrily.

"And good morning to you Rosie," said Mr. Conductor. "And I do! This is Bud. I'm training her today and if it goes well she'll become your new permanent driver!"

Rosie was excited. She had spent the past few months with substitute drivers. While most of them were nice, some of them couldn't handle her bubbly demeanor. Their loss! She preferred a set choice anyways. She hoped this one was nice.

"Nice to meet you Bud, I just know we'll have the best time together," she said politely. "Why don't you get yourself comfortable in my cab?"

"Ehm perhaps you could take off your coat, it gets pretty hot in here." Mr. Conductor suggested.

Bud paused for a moment. Then she tool her coat off, revealing her dark gray overalls and a white t shirt. She took off her glasses and put it inside the coat packet.

Now Mr. Conductor got a good look at her face. Her skin was a light shade of brown and she had hazel eyes. For a second he thought he recognized her face but waved it off as a symptom of the heat.

"Okay then, we'll start with the basics."

He started by showing her the controls and how to start Rosie up. Bud wrote and nodded as he went along. 

"Now since she's one of our younger tank engines it doesn't take very long to start her fire," said Mr. Conductor. 

"I see and it doesn't hurt her?" 

"As long as you keep the fire steady," said Rosie. "I might be a Vulcan but I'm not that immune to overheating."

"Right," Bud nodded. "This isn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"Trust me, once you get through an accident or two you'll be able to navigate the rails like second instinct!" 

"Or three," muttered Mr. Conductor.

Back in Shining Time, Lily was waiting in the lobby for her grandfather. He was having trouble with his truck. While she was texting her friends, Mr. Conductor's cousin Junior was talking to a customer.

"Have you heard about what happened in Spain?" Asked the Customer.

"I know it's been all over my Twitter feed," said Junior. "I heard it's part of a new movie they're filming!"

"I heard she got involved in the trade and is running from Interpol," said the customer. He shook his head in dismay.

"Actors these days, at least back in the day when they got in trouble it was entertaining. Now it's all just sad."

"Those are just rumors though, they're not always spoken with truth," replied Junior. "At the end of the day it's not our business." He looks around and leans closer so no one else could hear.

"Then again what business do we have!"

The two gossip hens clucked in humor, and the customer and left the station house. Lily took it as her chance to greet him. 

"Junior!"

"Hi Lily! Long time no see!" They hugged. "How's life been?"

"I'm doing fine I was just waiting for Grandpa. Car troubles, again."

Junior sucked his teeth. "Burnett and that truck, I'm all for self repair but he's gotta admit some things are a lost cause."

Junior disliked the idea of his friend struggling, especially when he was getting on in years. He wished he could help him but Burnett insisted on keeping that truck.

"That's alright I'm sure some of Lady's magic could help," said Junior.

"How is she?" Lily asked.

"She's running as smooth as I surf the waves," boasts Junior. "She misses you so much. Everyone on Sodor wants to see you!"

Lily was touched by his statement. "Don't worry I'll come by the island before I go back home."

Just then they heard a truck honking from outside. Lily gasped, "That must be Grandpa! We can catch up later!" She waved goodbye then got her things and went to her grandfather.

As soon as she left Junior leaned back in his chair and laughed to himself.

"Oh Lily is going to be so surprised, she doesn't even suspect a thing!"

"Suspect what?" Horace Schemer's voice nearly made Junior fall out of his chair.

"The heck are you doing here?" Don't you have a psychiatrist appointment or something?" The Blond haired man sneered.

"My psyche is in perfectly good health thank you very much," the arcade entrepreneur retorted as he flapped the front of his vest. "As you know I feel it is time for a career change-"

"Cleaning the toilets?"

"No! I decided to expand my business into the world of cinema!"

"Any movie you'd make would end up at the bin at Savers," grumbled Junior. Schemer ignored his putdown and continued boasting.

"So I'm taking the nephew out to Sodor and see if we could film a pilot to sell to the execs."

Junior was about to respond again until another funny idea popped up in his head. A sly grin crossed his lips.

"Well good luck with the new career," he said. "When you get that series I'll make sure to tune in!"

"You better," said Schemer. "I've wasted too many years living under your family's shadow. Now all of you will see it is my time to shine!"

'Shine so brightly you'll explode into a black hole,' Junior snickered as he gave Schemer two tickets to Sodor. He could not wait to see how it will turn out...

Back on Sodor, Conductor was showing Bud how to run Rosie. Despite her initial shyness Bud was paying attention, eagerly scribbling in a notebook. She asked Rosie a few questions to gauge her comfort level. Later that morning Mr. Conductor decided to go on a test run.

Bud loved the sensation of the breeze caressing her face. If she could she would've let her curls down. The sights along Thomas's branchline whirled by in a haze of colors. So this is what it's like? 

"How are you liking it so far?" Rosie asked her.

"It's wonderful! I've been on trains before but not like this!"

Rosie giggled. "I'm glad you're enjoying it Miss Bud!"

"Just call me Bud!" 

Suddenly a foreign object whirled by Rosie's head. "Whoa!"

"Are you alright?" Asked Bud.

"I'm fine," huffed the cherry engine. She yelled back, "Whoever did that, just to let you know you're violating railway regulations!"

Bud saw the thing leave. Her heart was racing and not just from the speed Rosie was going. 'No! They can't find out I'm here!' 

The object had been a drone sent by two cameramen. Well, if a 70 year old man and 9-year-old boy could be considered professionals.

"Did you get the shot?" Asked Schemer.

His nephew checked on his cell phone. "No, that engine was too fast!" The boy said with a pout.

"Too fast - There's no such thing as too fast!" Schemer said. He watched Rosie go.

"A little troublesome than I thought," he noted with a smirk. "I love a good challenge."

Later that afternoon, Rosie made a stop at the sea station for tea time. While Mr. Conductor busied himself with a giant choco sundae, Bud was sitting on a large rock looking at the sea.

"We call these French fries," she held out a piece of fried potatoes to Rosie.

"It smells so delicious but it'll probably agitate my boiler," said Rosie. Bud stifled a laugh. She liked the tank engine.. She didn't comment on her drabby appearance, and her enthusiasm was pleasantly welcome.

Just then Arthur came by having finished his run for the hour.

"Afternoon Rosie," said the dark crimson tank engine. "You don't mind if I rest here for a bit?"

"Sure," said Rosie. "I love some extra company."

Arthur spotted the woman on the boulder. "Who is she?"

"That's Bud, she's my future driver," said Rosie. "We're showing her the ropes today."

Bud waved at him. "Nice to meet you!"

"It's nice to meet you too Bud." "I'm not from the UK so excuse me if I mess up some things," the woman said.

"That's alright. It took me a while to get used to Sodor when I first arrived," said Rosie. She sighed. "Ah I remember it like it was yesterday."

Bud looked at the ocean. As she watched the blue waves crash along the sandy rocks, she felt a pang in her heart.

"I love the sea," she sighed. "This beach looks a lot cleaner than where I used to live."

"Where do you used to live?" Rosie asked her.

Before Bud could answer there was a buzzing sound. They all looked up to see a tiny helicopter with a camera lens attached at the bottom.

"Ugh it's that drone again," Arthur mumbled. "The owners came by this morning asking if they could film the seaside. I thought they were done but apparently not."

"That same contraption almost hit me earlier!" Rosie wheezed angrily.

"Someone's ought to do something about them," Arthur added. 

That was when Bud got an idea. She walked over to a patch of rocks, picked one up and positioned herself as close to the drone. Then with a grunt she threw the rock at the drone! It hit the camera causing it to crack. It flew away before she could reload.

The two engines were shocked!

"Bud! Why did you do that?!" Rosie cried. She didn't her to get in trouble

"Hey it worked for me one time," Bud replied with a shrug.

"That is...quite unexpected!" Arthur remarked awkwardly.

Mr. Conductor heard the commotion and rushed outside.

"What's that noise?"

"Just me taking care of a problem," Bud said, pointing to where the drone was flying away in defeat. Mr. Conductor raised a brow. "And how exactly did you solve the problem?"

Bud walked over to pick up the answer. She held it up with a grin.

"What my folks call it the old fashioned way."

Mr. Conductor groaned and rubbed his temples. He didn't want to deal with a possible lawsuit especially on the first day of training.

"Okay just...don't do that again. I don't think the NWR can handle another scandal and I don't want you to risk losing your job just as it begins," he spoke to her sternly. Bud's face burned with shame.

"I'm sorry, I promise It won't happen again sir!"

Mr. Conductor checked his watch.

"Well, we better get a move on. There's still a lot more to teach you. And hopefully you can learn how to solve problems in a non traditional way." He directed that last part at Bud, who could only grin nervously before meekly going back into the cab.

The two engines whistled their goodbyes and Rosie went off to finish the rest of the day.

At a fishing spot near the boardwalk Schemer's nephew winced at the video. 

"What happened!" Schemer barked.

"I don't know some jerk threw something at my drone now the lens aren't working!"

The drone sputtered pitifully back and landed with a dreadful thud. Schemer picked up the drone and groaned.

"Great! That'll cost me a fortune to replace!"

"You mean my fortune," hid nephew mumbled under his breath. Schemer rubbed his chin.

"Hmm. Whoever that person is they're an obstacle. This is even more challenging than I thought."

But the allure of money & rubbing it in Junior's face overrode all common sense. "Well then if it's a challenge they want they got it!" He slapped his hand on his nephew's shoulder and pulled him close.

"I promise after today we'll become rich and famous! But mostly rich!"

Schemer's nephew frowned. He didn't like the sound of that...

[summertime-delights]

Find MY TAGS for this blog below 👇

MY TAGS

Outside:

#afloat #countryside #in public #seaside #surfer #harbour #lake (puddles of all sizes) #river #stream #waterfall #rain #underwater #garden #patio #pool #shower outside

Inside:

#balcony #bathroom #bathtub #bedroom #kitchen #lounge #mirror #shower inside #sunlight #wall #window

By activity:

#getting naked #getting dressed #after swimming #into the water #camping #exercising #hiking #reading #sunbathing #taking photos #games #meditation #party #roller girl #happy naked #kneeling #lying down #mid air (jumps of all sorts) #running #standing #stretching #sitting #walking

By object:

#bicycle #campfire #coffee #jeans #sunscreen

Sensual:

#playtime* #sp@nk* #spreading* #touching*

Other tags:

#close up #her own photo #portrait #couple #girls of colour #destinations 🌍 #music #video #words

#me #mine #my edit

TO ADD

#inside

#festival

[28whitepeonies]

Hi bea

How was the festival? Would love to hear your thoughts!

Anon 2: Can’t wait to hear your experience. Hope you enjoyed it.

———————————————————————

Thanks anons

So I hadn't been to Away from Home either of the previous two times so I don't have another afhf to compare to. I have been to a lot of festivals otherwise though, both day and camping and if I’m honest this was probably the worst festival experience I have ever had (and I used to go to T in the Park). With that in mind I’ll summarise my thoughts now I am home and chilled.

Things I enjoyed:

• Blossoms - I saw them support another band a few years ago and I thought they were really great both then and now (we also bumped into them the night before in Pisa).

• The seaside location - Italy was so hot, we went to the beach in the early afternoon and then to the festival, I thought that was a great thing to be able to do

• Louis' show was fabulous and I was really glad to have seen him, got to hear some fitf tracks for the first time (no Chicago though :( )

Things I didn't enjoy:

• Food - The website said there would be vegan food, both my friend and I are vegan and chose not to eat earlier because because we were really quite excited by the prospect of vegan options, this was dumb on our part. I've been vegan for a very long time and would never expect a concert venue to have food options so I want to be clear that my issue here is only because the afhf FAQ's explicitly mentioned vegan food being available. In reality there were no real vegan options. We queued for around 2-2.5 hours inside the venue for food in total. First for about 30 mins to get a piece of bread with a slice of lettuce inside it and then for close to 2 hours to get a portion of fries. I promise I am not exaggerating any of that, we missed all of the cribs, the dj set and most of blossoms and I have a photo of the lettuce bread. We were by no means the exception in terms of how long we waited for food. A big part of the problem was that there were I think two/four (two places selling sandwiches and two selling chips & burgers) food vendors for everyone there, and the chip vendors only had one tiny chip fryer each so they could only cook 3-4 portions at a time and then a 5 minute wait for the next 3-4. The venue wasn't sold out but there must have been 15k people at least inside I expect and folk wanted to eat - remember they had said you couldn’t bring food/drink inside and you couldn’t leave and come back.

• Hygiene - listen gigs/festivals are never the cleanest places but this was really quite bad. We arrived about 6pm, at that point the bins were overflowing, there was no toilet roll and no running water to wash your hands in the loos. There were also no staff/stewards to notify. By 9pm then were used sanitary products stacked in the loos and no bins in sight. It was 35° that day.

• Organisation - The organisation around the venue was really confusing, we got a bus to the town and it was almost impossible to get from the bus stop to the beach because of the queue system & closures which just weren't being communicated. Every security guard told us something different which made it hard to navigate. Coming back to the venue later from the beach (around 530pm) there were almost no staff in sight and all the road closures had changed. When we got inside we didn’t get wristbands which we thought odd at the time but now know they weren't given out (I don’t really care about the wristband but think it’s a symbol of the organisational issues). Overall the event felt really understaffed.

• Tech/sound/screens - there were a lot of tech issues, some might have been heat related I imagine but the sound at times was terrible and the two screens seemed really small for the venue (they also glitched a lot). We chose to stand near the back so the screen thing was quite noticeable.

If I am honest the experience wasn't for me and I probably wouldn't go to afhf again, some of this might have been specific to this venue but I just wouldn't be willing to risk it.

[piggybankstomfoolery]

It didn't feel like it was going to be a game-changer when I attended the backer premiere party (maybe because for me it's just one of many indie animation projects I know are floating around out there, lol), but it's exciting to see Lackadaisy's pilot bring a lot of new excitement for indie animation to folks who otherwise didn't seem to acknowledge it. I've had family members ask if I've seen the Lackadaisy short (which caught me off-guard as most of my family doesn't usually know about animation beyond the big studios), and friends have told me they're now looking for ways to take their current projects and "ride the wave". It's even got me looking at some of the projects I've had going over the past year and considering a re-evaluation.

I started up a few things last year after the Pencilmation downsizing and layoff: a Doog short film, a series pitch with a studio which was presented and still being developed, and a small game (besides Seaside Fireflies) which got an equally small publishing deal last year. All three are exciting in their own way, but I'd be kidding myself if I said I had the resources and manpower to develop all three of those at once, or the funds to pay people to help me out.

That said... I think all of this new buzz has got me considering reviving the Doog project. The game project is fun in its own way, but its audience is very limited, and without the help of a good friend on the project who has since dropped offline for health reasons, I've been feeling aimless and have been considering putting the project on indefinite hiatus. The studio project is exciting to develop too as it's with a studio whose output I've always loved, but with the marketplace for investment in new series having clearly dried up to both insiders and outsiders, it feels like a lot of practice with developing a project, but without much of any return of investment for my part.

Meanwhile, Doog is short (probably around five minutes at most), simple to draw (black and white lineart drawn in Procreate), and mostly made by myself (with Joshua Tomar voicing the one character who currently has lines). The film could probably do a short festival run as well, and I've already got a little bit of marketing synergy going for the short with Newgrounds, as Tom was interested in giving the short a front-page banner and maybe working out some other stuff if we can.

The real question then becomes whether I can get the time to actually, y'know, make all this stuff. Will see what happens...!

[apieters]

Buried Treasure

K-POOM!

The shot from the flintlock pistol rang out in the darkness and echoed across the beach that marked the Western coast of the Magic Kingdom. Chris looked around, holding his breath, but he couldn’t see anything, blinded by the light of the torch he held in his right hand. The tyrannosaur listened for the sound of anyone stirring, but no one shouted or stirred, no lights came on in the few houses just off the beach.

He couldn’t be too careful. Lieutenant Rennes’ “visit” to Pride Rock could only mean that Frollo was looking for the papers, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he returned to find Jeronimo’s with a busted door and ransacked rooms too. Chris could only thank the saints that he’d been there himself to fight off Rennes until Mufasa could rally the lionesses.

When the mainsail’s set and the anchor’s weighed, Chris sang in his head, There’s no turning back from any course that’s made. There was no room for mistakes, and they only had one shot to pull this off. The Festival of Fools was tomorrow. He had to be back in the French district by daybreak—it was the only window of time to save André. Frollo would be out of the Palace of Justice, his guards would be out guarding the square, and the great bleak castle would be left with only a skeleton crew. Still, it was the Palace of Justice, and they were going toe-to-toe with Frollo himself, and escaping the walls of the prison was arguably more perilous than getting in. These papers would be his and André’s only hope of survival if he pulled off this stunt.

Chris patted his coat, checking to make sure nothing was lost. 1, 2, 3…8 packets of papers. All there. Good. If the secrets buried in these papers ever got out, Frollo would be torn to pieces in hours. Tonight, Chris’s mission was to make sure that those papers could get out, if the worst should happen tomorrow. Chris checked the lock on the gate that barred the entrance to what the locals had started calling Tristan’s Cove. The pistol shot had worked—the padlock hung loose, with a gaping hole where the cogs and machinery had been. He pushed open the gate and thrust his torch inside. There was a long, dark tunnel in the seaside rock that he knew lead to a small, isolated cove, protected from the eyes and ears of overly-curious pedestrians by sharp, jagged bluffs and the loud roar of the surf, with hollows carved by the crashing waves at high tide. Chris checked behind him one last time, hoping that no one was spying on him in the dark, then headed into the tunnel.

When he finally emerged, he found himself on the cove, a moderately-sized little beach exposed by the low tide, covered with great strands of washed-up kelp and surrounded by cliffs. He held the torch up, looking around, and saw what he was looking for—a small sailing canoe, with two shadowy figures inside, with what appeared to be only a small candle for illumination.

The figures stood up and Chris pulled out his reloaded pistol.

“Finger on your pistols?” Chris whispered hoarsely.

“Not a finger,” the voice said. “Just a hook.”

“It wouldn’t be good form,” the other said.

The only other sound was like the tinkling of silver bells, almost drowned out by the surf.

Chris put his pistol away, having received the agreed-upon answers.

“Captain Hook,” he said to his old friend. “Peter Pan.” The small light tinkled loudly.

“No, I didn’t forget you, Tinker Bell,” Chris said to the little pixie.

“Captain Carnovo,” the old pirate and the Lost Boy said, and the friends embraced. Chris and André had gotten their start in film and theatre as fight choreographers for Peter Pan, and Chris considered James Hook to be one of his best students and a close friend—close enough to be entrusted with secrets worth more than a thousand chests of Spanish gold.

“Still doesn’t feel right without André,” Peter said. André had been his personal fencing master, and of the two fencing masters Peter had been closest to André before the Reign of Terror.

“Well, if we all do our parts, we’ll be back together soon enough,” Chris said grimly. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

“It’s in the stern,” Hook said. Chris checked the back of the boat, and sure enough, there was a small treasure-chest.

“Is it waterproof?” Chris asked

“Sealed with tar.”

The tyrannosaur reached into his coat and put his hand into a tear in the lining, and began pulling out the precious packets of papers, wrapped in oilcloth. He stacked them neatly into the chest until it was full, and thankfully there was enough room. Then he pulled a padlock out of his coat pocket and locked the chest.

When he was finished, he climbed into the boat and and fished out two more small oilcloth sacks.

“This map tells you which of the islands in the Pirate Bank Archipelago the treasure will be found,” Chris said, handing one bag to Hook. “The other side tells you where on the island to find the chest,” he said, handing the second bag to Peter. “You must swear never to tell a soul that you have these maps. Now listen carefully,” the tyrannosaur leaned in close, so that everyone’s head was touching. “In the event that I, Mufasa, the Archdeacon, Cinderella, or André should die, no matter what the circumstances, I need you to dig up this treasure chest and give it to Mickey Mouse himself.”

“What exactly is in the chest?” Hook asked.

“Frollo’s death warrant,” Chris said. “Every letter sent between him and Tristan. Every command, every order, will be exposed and the Magic Kingdom will know that Frollo was not some helpless old man at the mercy of a rogue Captain of the Royal Guards.”

“We should be doing more to help you,” Peter Pan said.

“By accepting this and staying out of danger yourselves,” Chris said, pressing Peter’s hands around his map, “you are doing far more for André than I ever will.”

He pushed off from shore, and Tinker Bell flew to the top of the small mast as Chris raised the sail. Peter Pan grabbed Captain Hook, and the boy carried the pirate as he took off flying into the dark, cloudy night, and soon they had parted, heading back to Neverland.

Chris was left alone with Tinker Bell. “Set a course for Rumrunner’s Island,” he said. Tinker Bell flew ahead, and Chris took the rudder and jig and followed her into the night.

“Shiver my Timbers, Shiver my sails,” Chris sang softly to himself. “Dead men will tell tales.”

[tkwsdmc]

Best Places to visit in Denmark

Denmark is a charming country with a rich history, beautiful architecture, and picturesque landscapes. Here are some of the best places to visit in Denmark:

Copenhagen - Denmark's capital city and a vibrant cultural hub. Explore the colorful Nyhavn harbor, visit the famous Little Mermaid statue, and stroll through the historic Tivoli Gardens.

Aarhus - Denmark's second-largest city and a center of art and culture. Visit the ARoS Aarhus Art Museum, explore the picturesque Old Town, and enjoy the vibrant atmosphere along the waterfront.

Odense - Birthplace of renowned fairy tale writer Hans Christian Andersen, Odense offers a charming atmosphere and attractions like the Hans Christian Andersen Museum and the picturesque Funen Village.

Skagen - A picturesque seaside town located at the northern tip of Denmark. Known for its stunning beaches, unique light, and vibrant art scene, it's a great place for nature lovers and artists.

Roskilde - Home to the famous Roskilde Cathedral, a UNESCO World Heritage site, and the Viking Ship Museum. Explore the history of the Vikings and attend the annual Roskilde Festival, one of Europe's largest music festivals.

Frederiksborg Castle - Located in Hillerød, this magnificent Renaissance castle is surrounded by beautiful gardens and a lake. Inside, you can explore the Museum of National History, which showcases Danish history and culture.

Bornholm - A Danish island in the Baltic Sea, known for its picturesque coastal landscapes, charming fishing villages, and ancient ruins. Visit the Hammershus Castle Ruins and enjoy the island's unique natural beauty.

Legoland Billund - A must-visit for families and Lego enthusiasts. This amusement park in Billund offers a world of Lego-themed attractions, rides, and displays that cater to all ages.

Kronborg Castle - Situated in Helsingør, this UNESCO World Heritage site is known as the setting for Shakespeare's play "Hamlet." Explore the impressive fortress, stroll through the castle grounds, and enjoy panoramic views of the Øresund Strait.

Møns Klint - Located on the island of Møn, these breathtaking chalk cliffs are a natural wonder. Take a hike along the cliff tops, enjoy the stunning views, and visit the GeoCenter Møns Klint to learn more about the area's geology.

These are just a few of the many wonderful places to visit in Denmark. Each destination offers its own unique attractions and experiences, showcasing the country's rich history, culture, and natural beauty.

[doormatty3]

Surface-Dweller Traditions: New Years (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You] Life with Orm is always a mix of discovery and contrast—his Atlantean heritage often colliding with your everyday human traditions. From decorating trees and trying festive foods to marvelling at fireworks or enduring bustling crowds, Orm’s reserved demeanour softens as he experiences the joy and warmth of human traditions with you. OR: A series of unrelated one-shots and mini-fics about the many types of festivities Orm and you share.

Wordcount: 3803

A/N: Happy New Year, guys. In this one Orm is confronted with another important tradition-New Years Eve XD

The stars shimmered brilliantly, their light scattered across the vast midnight-blue expanse of the sky, each one like a finely cut gem set into an endless velvet tapestry.

A silvery layer of snow blanketed the beach behind your seaside cottage, glittering softly in the moonlight. The waves rolled lazily against the shore. Their edges tinged with ice, the rhythmic sound a soothing undercurrent to the quiet night. 

The tree you and Orm had decorated together stood like a centrepiece, its branches adorned with twinkling lights and glittering ornaments that reflected the glow of the roaring fire in the hearth. The colourful lights spilled softly through the frosted window panes, their hues blending with the moonlight and casting gentle patterns on the snow outside.

Inside, the atmosphere was alive with laughter and warmth. Plates of food filled every available surface, a feast for the senses with dishes representing both your world and Orm’s. 

Golden-brown roasted vegetables glistened beside soft, buttery rolls, their rich aroma mingling with the briny scent of delicately seared fish. Seaweed-wrapped morsels, intricate and artfully arranged, brought a touch of Orm’s world to the table, their emerald hues a striking contrast against the warm, earthy tones of the other offerings.

Orm stood near the table, and he wore a simple knit sweater, the soft, charcoal-grey fabric hugging his broad shoulders and hinting at his strength. Faded jeans completed the look as they hung low on his hips.

His face, usually clean-shaven and sharp, was softened by a few days' worth of stubble, giving him a rugged, approachable charm. The firelight played across his features, accentuating the familiar intensity in his blue-grey eyes but tempering it with warmth. 

His blond hair, slightly mussed as though he'd run a hand through it one too many times, fell naturally into place, making him look effortlessly handsome as if he’d just walked out of the ocean, its salt-kissed waves still clinging to him.

The soft strands, a mix of silvery platinum and sunny gold, framed his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal in the warm glow.

He looked like someone who had finally found a moment to breathe.

Every now and then, his gaze would meet yours, and in those moments, warmth would fill you from within as you felt the pure love he radiated.

Arthur, Orm’s half-brother, lounged comfortably at the dining table, a casual ease about him as he nursed a drink in one hand. His signature smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, his sharp eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched his brother. 

“Well, well,” Arthur drawled, lifting his glass in a mock toast toward his older brother. “Who would’ve thought the great Ocean Master himself would be so... domestic?” His grin widened, clearly revelling in the rare chance to tease Orm in such an ordinary setting.

Orm, standing a few feet away, stiffened slightly at the jab but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he cast Arthur a withering glare, his sharp features settling into an expression of icy composure. 

Without missing a beat, he returned to help you arrange plates on the table, his movements precise and unbothered. 

“I fail to see how assisting my partner equates to domesticity,” he replied, his voice cool and measured, though the faintest edge of irritation crept into his tone.

Arthur’s grin stretched wider, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the shift in the conversation. “Partner?” he repeated, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You chuckled, stepping in with a lighthearted tone before the teasing could escalate any further. With a playful smile, you raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “Arthur, do you really want to challenge the man who decides if you get food tonight?”

Arthur’s smirk faltered just slightly, and he lifted his glass in a mock gesture of surrender. “Fair point,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll behave.” 

Orm turned to you, his lips curving into a soft, almost imperceptible smile as his deep blue eyes locked with yours. There was a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that seemed reserved just for you. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, quiet enough that only you could catch the words.

You met his gaze, a gentle smile playing on your lips as you brushed a hand lightly against his arm, your touch warm and reassuring. 

“Always,” you simply replied—and you meant it.

The hours passed in a haze of good food and lively conversation, the three of you slipping into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. Arthur, ever the storyteller, regaled you with tales of his adventures, his voice rich with humour and exaggeration. 

Even Orm, sitting beside you with his arm casually draped across the back of your chair, couldn’t suppress a few wry comments about his brother’s flair for the dramatic.

His presence was comforting, his strong, broad frame leaning slightly toward you as he spoke, his blond hair catching the light of the candles that flickered on the table. His hand rested just above your shoulder, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your clothing, and the steady warmth of him was a reassurance you didn’t know you needed until you felt it.

When he smiled, it was subtle, a slow curve of his lips that hinted at quiet amusement or fondness rather than the wide, effortless grins that Arthur often wore. 

It was a smile that reached his eyes—those deep blue-grey eyes that softened with affection, holding a depth that only you knew intimately. 

A smile that made his whole face warm, as though it was something reserved just for you , and in those rare moments, the sharpness that often defined him seemed to melt away, revealing a softer, more human side of him. 

He didn’t need to say anything; the way he smiled spoke volumes—gentle, knowing, and undeniably magnetic, conveying how much he enjoyed being here with you.

As the clock neared midnight, you suggested stepping outside to watch the fireworks. Arthur immediately perked up, his grin widening at the thought of the spectacle, but Orm looked slightly sceptical. He raised an eyebrow, his piercing eyes narrowing as if trying to make sense of the idea.

“Fireworks?” he repeated, the unfamiliar word rolling awkwardly off his tongue, his deep voice tinged with confusion. It was clear the concept didn’t quite fit into his world, where beauty was more often found in the stillness of the sea or the power of the waves.

You smiled softly, understanding his hesitation, and reached for his hand. The warmth of his strong fingers intertwined with yours, grounding him as you gently reassured him. “They’re beautiful ,” you promised, your voice calm and encouraging. "You’ll see."

Orm’s gaze softened, the faintest glimmer of curiosity replacing the uncertainty in his eyes. Though he didn’t fully understand what fireworks were, something in your tone seemed to ease his reservations. With a quiet nod, he allowed himself to be led outside, his broad frame casting a shadow as he stepped outside with you.

The night air was crisp and biting against your cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the cottage behind you. Arthur leaned casually against the railing, his posture relaxed, scanning the dark sky with easy confidence as if the night held no surprises for him.

His eyes were alight with the anticipation of the spectacle, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he made idle chatter.

Orm, however, stood close to you, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dim light. His hand remained firmly clasped in yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the chill of the evening. 

Despite his relaxed stance, the tension in his broad shoulders was subtle but unmistakable. His eyes, usually sharp with focus, were narrowed in quiet wariness as he scanned the horizon; the same alertness that had served him well in countless battles now turned toward an unfamiliar form of potential danger. 

It was as if he couldn’t fully relax, his instincts still primed for a threat that didn’t seem to exist here. His eyes, reflecting the faint glow of the porch light, tracked every shadow and movement in the night, his wariness ingrained after years of living on the edge.

“It’s just a celebration,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the quiet tension. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, your fingers laced firmly with his, hoping to ease the unease that lingered in his posture.

Orm glanced down at you briefly, the guarded look in his blue eyes softening ever so slightly. He nodded once, the motion small but enough to show he trusted your words, even if the concept was still foreign to him. 

Yet, even as he acknowledged your reassurance, his gaze returned to the dark expanse of sky, his features still taut with quiet vigilance. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the subtle strength of his hand in yours were the only signs that he was beginning to settle, grounding himself in your presence.

When the first firework shot upward, its trail carving a glowing arc of orange against the inky black sky, Orm stiffened beside you. 

His body, usually so composed, became rigid, the muscles in his arms tense as if preparing for battle. The sudden explosion that followed was loud and jarring, a thunderous boom that shattered the stillness of the night. The sky erupted into a cascade of golden sparks, their dazzling light reflecting off the snow-dusted ground and rippling waves, painting the scene in fleeting, brilliant hues.

Arthur let out a low whistle, leaning back against the railing with a murmured comment about the spectacle, but his words barely registered. Your attention was fixed on Orm. 

His hand, still clasped in yours, tightened with almost crushing force, his knuckles pale against the knit of his sweater. His gaze was locked on the sky, unblinking and intense, his lips pressed into a thin line as the bursts of light and sound continued.

You could see the flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes—shock, confusion, perhaps even a trace of unease. For a man who had faced countless battles and commanded armies, this simple display of light and sound seemed to unsettle him in a way you hadn’t expected. It was as if the raw power of the fireworks reminded him of something far more dangerous and unpredictable.

“Orm?” you whispered, your voice barely cutting through the sharp crack of another firework streaking into the sky. This one arced high above, its shimmering blue trail splitting the darkness before erupting into a magnificent burst. The explosion sent cascading tendrils of electric blue, and silver sparks raining down, illuminating the snow, the waves, and Orm’s tense features in a ghostly glow.

He flinched violently as the firework burst with a deafening crack that echoed across the beach, his head snapping toward the sound as though he expected an attack. The brilliance of the explosion reflected in his wide eyes, which darted across the sky, scanning for unseen threats amidst the bursts of light. His breathing quickened, each sharp inhale causing his chest to rise and fall unevenly, the muscles of his broad shoulders coiled with tension.

Another firework soared upward, its fiery tail spiralling as it climbed before detonating into a dazzling explosion of gold and crimson. The burst lit the horizon with a flickering radiance, but to Orm, it seemed less a celebration and more a chaotic display of unpredictable power. His grip on your hand tightened to the point of discomfort, as though anchoring himself to you was the only thing keeping him steady.

“It’s an attack,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight and edged with barely suppressed panic. His piercing blue-grey eyes were wide unfocused, as though he were seeing something far beyond the fireworks in the sky. His words were low but urgent, filled with the certainty of a man who had faced countless battles. “They’re coming ,” he said again, the tension in his tone a stark contrast to the festive display above.

You recognised the signs immediately—the way his free hand had curled into a white-knuckled fist at his side, the subtle tremor in his frame, and the way his chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths.

Orm wasn’t here anymore; his mind had pulled him back into the depths of his past, to battles fought in the shadowy expanse of the ocean, to the chaos and unrelenting violence he had endured as both warrior and king. The brilliant bursts of light and sound weren’t a celebration to him—they were explosions, signals of an impending assault, echoes of a life defined by conflict.

“ Orm ,” you said firmly, stepping directly into his line of sight. Your voice cut through the tension like a blade, steady and grounding. “Look at me.”

You placed your free hand gently against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. His gaze wavered for a moment, his eyes darting toward you as though unsure whether to focus on the present or remain trapped in the haunting echoes of his past.

He didn’t respond, his entire body jerking as another firework shot upward, splitting the sky with a deafening boom that sent waves of colour cascading into the night. His expression twisted with raw, unfiltered fear, a vulnerability so unlike him that it took your breath away. His sharp features, usually so composed, were tense with the weight of memories that seemed to drown him.

“Orm,” you repeated, your voice louder now, firm but filled with concern. You tugged on his hand, your grip steady and grounding. “Come inside. You’re safe , but we need to go inside.”

For a moment, it felt as though he didn’t hear you, his mind too clouded by the chaos of the past—the flash of explosions, the roar of battles fought beneath the waves. His chest heaved with uneven breaths, his gaze darting wildly between the horizon and the fireworks that painted the sky with bursts of light and sound.

Then, slowly, your voice seemed to cut through the haze. His eyes flicked down to meet yours, wide and glassy, as if seeing you for the first time since stepping outside. Recognition began to surface in their depths, the storm in his mind momentarily stilling as he focused on you. His grip on your hand slackened slightly, the strength of your presence pulling him back from the brink.

“Please,” you said softly, your voice steady yet imbued with a quiet urgency. Your hand squeezed his gently, grounding him in the present. “Come with me.” The gentleness in your tone was insistent, a lifeline pulling him away from the chaos in his mind.

Orm hesitated, his broad chest still rising and falling in uneven bursts. His gaze flickered between the door and you, uncertainty etched into his features, but he didn’t let go of your hand. You stayed steady, your calm presence anchoring him, refusing to let him slip back into the storm of his memories.

After what felt like an eternity, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and you began to lead him toward the warmth and safety of the house. His steps were hesitant at first, his body tense and his shoulders hunched as though bracing for an attack that would never come. But he followed you, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline.

Once inside, you closed the door firmly behind you, the sound of the latch sealing away the cacophony of the outside world. The fireworks continued, their muffled booms now softened by the walls of your home, distant and far less threatening. The warm glow of the living room embraced you both, the hum of safety wrapping around him like a comforting cocoon.

You guided him to the couch, your touch firm but gentle as you eased him down onto the soft cushions. His movements were stiff, almost mechanical, as though his body hadn’t yet caught up with the safety of the moment. 

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands trembling as they gripped them tightly. His head hung low, his silver-blond hair falling forward to partially obscure his face, while his uneven breaths filled the quiet space around you. He was fighting—fighting to claw his way back from the memories that held him captive.

“Orm,” you said gently, lowering yourself to your knees in front of him so you could meet his gaze. Your voice was soft but steady, the calm anchor you knew he needed right now. “You’re safe. You’re here with me. No one is attacking.”

His shoulders trembled faintly at your words, the tension in his powerful frame still visible, but he didn’t respond. You reached out, placing a hand over his, which was gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles had gone white, and you were sure that he’d bruise himself with the sheer strength he used to hold on to it. The warmth of your touch seemed to break through the barrier of his fear, drawing his attention.

He glanced up at you then, his eyes still shadowed with the echoes of panic. But there was something else there, too—something searching, desperate for the reassurance your voice and presence were offering. You held his gaze firmly, your touch and words steady, silently willing him to let go of the battle raging inside.

His breath hitched sharply, his chest rising and falling as though he were trying to steady himself, but failing. His head shook almost imperceptibly, as if he were trying to physically dispel the memories clawing at his mind. “The sounds...” he murmured, his voice low and strained, laced with raw vulnerability. “They’re the same . The explosions, the echoes—it’s too much.”

His words trailed off, but the haunted look in his eyes spoke volumes, a silent cry for solace amidst the storm. You didn’t hesitate, gently threading your fingers through his trembling ones. His fingers were ice-cold, his knuckles still rigid from the intensity of his grip, but you held them firmly, grounding him with your touch.

“It’s not the same,” you said softly but with unwavering conviction, your voice cutting through the haze enveloping him. “Look at me, Orm. You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with me.”

Your words hung in the air, a lifeline tethering him to the present. Slowly, his head lifted, and his eyes, still clouded with fear, met yours. The storm in them began to waver, the familiar warmth of your presence pulling him back from the abyss. You gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, leaning in slightly so that your steady gaze was all he could focus on.

“You’re safe,” you whispered. “I promise.”

In his eyes, you saw the shadows of a lifetime’s worth of pain—raw and unhidden. It was the kind of pain that burrowed deep, etched into his very being by years of war, betrayal, and loss. The guarded walls he always kept so carefully in place had crumbled, leaving him exposed in a way few had ever seen. His lips parted, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he would speak, but then he did, his voice low and unsteady.

“I hate this,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper, but the weight of them was immense. His hands trembled slightly in yours. “I hate feeling like this.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone, at the man before you who had endured so much yet still felt trapped by his own mind. You squeezed his hands gently, your thumbs brushing over his knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “I know,” you said softly, your voice steady and full of understanding. “I know how hard this is for you. But you’re not alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your words seemed to pull him back, the storm in his eyes flickering as he focused on you. His breathing, still uneven, began to slow as your presence cut through the fog of fear gripping him. Bit by bit, you watched as the tension in his broad shoulders eased, his body no longer braced for an invisible attack. He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes briefly as if to steady himself. When he opened them again, there was a clarity there, faint but growing, as he leaned forward.

Orm rested his forehead against yours, the gesture both grounding and intimate. His silver-blond hair, slightly dishevelled, fell forward, brushing lightly against your skin. He exhaled deeply, his voice low and filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Your hands stayed clasped around his, unwavering. “You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, your tone tender but firm. “I love you, Orm. And I’ll always be here for you.”

Outside, the fireworks began to fade, their brilliant colours dimming until only faint bursts of light painted the horizon. The final echoes of explosions gave way to the gentle hum of the night, the world returning to its quiet, peaceful rhythm. 

Inside, the glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft golden light, its gentle flicker casting dancing shadows across the walls. The warmth of the room wrapped around the two of you, creating a sanctuary against the chaos of the world outside.

Orm let out a long, shuddering breath, his hands remaining tightly clasped around yours, though the tremble had eased. His eyes, still shadowed but calmer now, searched yours as if trying to hold onto the reassurance you offered. “You’re my anchor,” he said softly, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You leaned closer, your voice steady as you replied, “And you’re mine.”

The words hung between you, a quiet promise that needed no elaboration. Orm closed his eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips—a sign that he was beginning to let go of the fear that had gripped him. He still held your hands as though afraid to lose the grounding they provided, but his grip softened, his trust in you evident in the way he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly.

For what felt like hours but was only moments, the two of you remained there, wrapped in each other’s presence. The world outside faded, the sounds of the last firework disappearing into the silence of the new year. The steady warmth of the room, the flicker of the tree lights, and the quiet rhythm of his breathing created a cocoon of peace. At that moment, everything else seemed to fall away—no past, no fears, only the love and solace you offered each other as the new year began.

[sun-crisp]

Beachside Hotels in Vizag | Suncrisp Hospitality – Ultimate Guide for Your Perfect Stay

Introduction

Why Vizag is the Ultimate Beach Destination

Vizag, also known as Visakhapatnam, is a coastal gem in India, offering breathtaking beaches, a rich cultural heritage, and year-round pleasant weather. Whether you’re a solo traveler, a couple seeking romance, or a family planning a getaway, Vizag’s beachside allure makes it the perfect destination for those seeking Beach side hotels in vizag.

Why Choose Beachside Hotels?

The Unique Charm of Coastal Hotels

Beach side hotels in vizag offer more than just accommodation—they provide an immersive experience. Imagine waking up to the sound of waves and enjoying serene sunsets from your balcony.

Proximity to Attractions

Staying in a beachside hotel places you close to key attractions like Kailasagiri, Rushikonda Beach, and the Submarine Museum. Explore the offerings by visiting Suncrisp Hospitality Services to find the perfect stay.

About Suncrisp Hospitality

Commitment to Excellence

Suncrisp Hospitality redefines luxury with a focus on providing top-notch services and creating memorable experiences for guests.

Signature Beachside Properties

With meticulously maintained properties along Vizag’s coastline, Suncrisp sets a benchmark in hospitality. Check out the wide range of services available at Suncrisp Hospitality Services.

Top Beachside Hotels in Vizag

A Curated List of Suncrisp’s Best Properties

Seaside Serenity Resort – Known for its infinity pool and direct beach access.

Ocean Breeze Retreat – Perfect for families with spacious rooms and kid-friendly amenities.

Golden Sands Hotel – Renowned for its rooftop dining and panoramic views.

Luxury Amenities

Premium Facilities for Guests

From infinity pools to private cabanas, Suncrisp’s properties offer unmatched luxury.

Spa and Wellness Centers

Unwind with signature spa treatments designed to rejuvenate your mind and body.

Dining Experiences

Coastal Cuisines and Fine Dining

Savor local seafood delicacies and international cuisines curated by expert chefs. Enjoy dining with a view, as most properties feature beachside restaurants.

Adventure Activities

Water Sports

Explore the thrill of jet skiing, parasailing, and snorkeling at nearby beaches.

Local Sightseeing Tours

Suncrisp offers curated tours to landmarks like Dolphin’s Nose and Araku Valley.

Family-Friendly Options

Why Suncrisp Properties are Ideal for Families

Spacious suites, kids’ play areas, and family-centric activities make these properties a haven for families.

Sustainability Efforts

Eco-Friendly Practices at Suncrisp

From solar-powered facilities to zero-plastic initiatives, Suncrisp leads the way in sustainable tourism.

Nearby Attractions

Must-Visit Places in Vizag

Kailasagiri Hill Park

RK Beach

Yarada Beach

Customer Reviews

Testimonials that Speak Volumes

Guests frequently praise Suncrisp’s hospitality, cleanliness, and attention to detail.

Booking Process

Easy and Convenient Reservations

Book directly through the Suncrisp website or partner platforms for the best deals.

Best Time to Visit Vizag

Ideal Seasons for a Beachside Stay

October to March is the best time to enjoy Vizag’s pleasant climate and vibrant festivals.

Travel Tips

Insider Advice for First-Time Visitors

Carry sunscreen and light clothing.

Plan visits to beaches early in the morning for stunning sunrise views.

Conclusion

Experience unparalleled luxury and comfort with Suncrisp Hospitality. From breathtaking views to world-class amenities, our Beach side hotels in vizag promise a vacation to remember.

FAQs

Are Suncrisp properties pet-friendly?

Yes, select properties accommodate pets with prior notification.

Do beachside hotels in Vizag offer Wi-Fi?

Yes, all Suncrisp properties provide complimentary high-speed Wi-Fi.

Can I book adventure activities through the hotel?

Absolutely! Suncrisp’s concierge service will assist you with bookings.

Are there special packages for honeymooners?

Yes, honeymoon packages with romantic inclusions are available.

How far are Suncrisp properties from the airport?

Most properties are within a 30-minute drive from Visakhapatnam Airport.