#sea of solitude available now

[404-gaming-and-playthrough-games]

Sea Of Solitude Complete Gameplay Full Story

video link: https://youtu.be/N75p_XxUXAI

"Sea of Solitude" is a adventure game developed by Jo-Mei Games and published by Electronic Arts. The storyline explores the protagonist, Kay's journey through a submerged city where she encounters monstrous creatures and explores her own emotions of loneliness and despair. The game rewards players with stunning visuals and an immersive soundscape, with the primary focus being on Kay's personal growth through overcoming her emotional struggles while uncovering the mysteries of the underwater world. The game deals with themes of mental health, isolation, and self-discovery, which adds a layer of emotional depth to the gameplay experience.

#seaofsolitude #gaming #fullgame

[tarjapearce]

Iridiscent (Pt. 4)

Pirate AU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNING: Angst, mentions of violence, graphic depictions of violence, mild gore, political implications, character origins, character backgrounds, introduction of character, Greek mythology mentions.

Summary: The aftermath of a mermaid encounter brings an unexpected ally.

A/N: Pirate Miggy is back ❤️

Previous

Mermaids, sea witches, sirens, sea monsters. The latter was the most accurate name for what your mere existence rendered. And now, men eater.

Existing since way before humans understood the concept of civilizations, silent watchers of eons of evolution, yet unfortunate by the simple fact of being.

The permanence of the kin itself was a result of a fateful domino effect the God of the dead had unleashed by being invaded and bewitched by a mortal feeling. Love.

His whim had turned into obsession and this somehow morphed into love. A feeling so strong that made him kidnap the Spring goddess for himself, tired of the miserable companion solitude was in the underworld. And that was the moment everything changed.

The nymphs in charge of their queen's safety were turned into winged beings, as a punishment from none other than Demeter. Her wrath over them, ruthless and merciless as they were forced to look everywhere for their vanishing queen to no avail.

Some of the nymphs had escaped the aftermath to a recluse island, abandoning all purpose of finding Persephone, to follow the whims of their hearts in lieu. Singing and music.

But even so, Demeter's fury had no match, vengeful and blinded by anger she looked for the rebel ones to kill them, but these hid in the sea. Eventually, the feathers hardened, turning into scales. These etched and covered their legs. Securing them in a colorful long tail.

Bird's talons turned into beautiful and deadly hands, that once a prey was caught there was nothing it could do but to accept it's fate. Death.

Damned be Hades and his stupid obsession. Damned be Demeter and her blinding rage, and damned be the men that polluted the earth above with their existing and constant evolving.

Men. The real wretched creatures. The executioners of everything they decided unworthy of living. Stupid beings that played God in a self imposed role in  life's hierarchy.

Creatures that had hunted and killed your kin for ages, forcing to separate and face new dangers at every turn in the endless ocean. Humans, a little too praising title considering their acts and actions were everything but, had forced you to hide in the deepest waters and forbidden lands not many were brave enough to venture in.

A couple of centuries were more than enough for you to have a glimpse of their nature. Destructive, dangerous and merciless. They sullied and tarnished everything unfortunate enough to go under their hands.

They killed everything unknown or deemed too frightening for their existence and had no mercy while at it. The bloodier the better. A disgusting yet necessary example of behavior you had to follow in order to survive.

Humans had shaped your temper. Heart rejoicing at every sunken ship the sea swallowed. Even their flesh had lost the sizzle to be enjoyable enough, making your feeding habits more inclined towards other creatures within the sea.

You didn't eat men because you hated them. You ate them because their hatred had poisoned enough the seas, leaving you without resources, pushing you to consume them. And your refusal had made your body weak, it had been years since your body felt properly satisfied.

You collapsed.

How many days had passed, certainly was unknown. Time under the sea was measured by how long it took for a reef to go completely white, how often the ships let their nets in a single spot. Sometimes you remained on land, sea too dangerous to venture alone.

But none of that mattered anymore. Inanition wasn't exclusive of humans, the last thing in your mind was to curse Hades and the men.

But death escaped and picked you and others alike within a net. Pushing some survival instinct back in you as the net wriggled and broke. Injecting the right amount of life to hand you a buffet in a wooden platter. Gathering your bearings after the little commotion in your head, was quickly overlooked when the attention focused on the scene unfolding.

A ship full of men, that stared in wonder and fear. One of them stood out from the rest. It reminded you of Hercules. His physique unique, just as his eyes. A fine specimen and surely a delicious one. Their language was unknown, but it became clear the moment you kissed the fool before your apparent naive form. Absorbing his knowledge and a little more in that simple gesture. Which was little.

But enough to understand what the men said and whispered around you.

Foul and salty smelling, with a faint tinge of wine. He tasted sour and ashy, but edible enough to sate your rampant huger. You wanted to go for the herculean man in shackles, his scent rich in leather, voice like a soft and firm caress in the back of one's head. His cinnamon toned skin made your mouth water.

You were about to move for him, but Elliot, the idiot infront and your hunger kept you in place. You knew your initial prey would fight and would waste the little reserve of strength you had left. He was no fool.

As moronic as the man on your way  was, he'd save his purpose. The prey was subdued, flesh and bones devoured; bland and tasteless, but well welcomed within your body. Revitalizing energies and restocking the strength you had been lacking for a time.

Expected as it was, they attacked, all by the command of the shackled man, that had dared to injure you with a bullet. But you were too frenzied and hungry to care. Your meal hung in your maws, as you fought to get it off the ship.

Your Hercules watched in horror from afar, and never in your life had you felt more realized and satisfied to provoke such disturbing reaction in a man.

You could almost taste the fear behind his raged and shaky breathing, his shock in every powerful beat his heart did, the denial in his eyes as they widened the more your teeth sank into the corpse. It fueled you. And also ignited with new strength the already flickering purpose of your existence.

Destroy as many of them as possible.

You went under the ship, away from their archaical defense to eat and consume your food. Humans weren't definitely on the top, for a moment the hunter became the prey and didn't survive to brag about his new kill.

Skin and flesh was torn, consumed with such hunger it had you full and completely sated like never before, within matter of minutes. Elliot Jackdaw no longer existed, but served as a reminder that your kin prevailed and endured.

But also, had unleashed a new domino effect you weren't aware of.

The man in shackles, your forsaken greek god, was thrown at the sea. Your territory. You saw him move, fight against the current; trying to free himself from the heavy cuffs that weighed him down and reach back to the ship. And then nothing.

He became still and it made you frown. Where that bravado had gone? The smirk that was about to emerge in your lips faded as soon as a red cloud oozed and swallowed his head.

His scent was too rich and alluring, stagnant almost. Sickly sweet for your senses and he wasn't moving.

If you recalled, he was called a captain. What was a captain doing out of his ship drowning in the sea? Your lip twitched in scowl.

The lack of loyalty among his kindred was another reason to hate them. He wasn't the first nor the last you had saved in these conditions. Mostly women or little children that were expelled without much reasons other than being a burden.

As much as you cursed your heart for not turning its back to these sort of injustices, and your need to have a tiny taste of him, you hauled him up shore. Light as a feather in water, but heavy as lead on land. The heavy iron around his wrist didn't help, so you destroyed it, inflicting little cuts around his flesh in the process.

Ancient eyes scrutinized his form. Sharp cheekbones that could only match a sword. Strong features that screamed fighter in every direction you looked. A jagged and nasty cut on a side of his head, some strands obscuring his face, you removed them and some bloodied debris from his wound, inspecting it.

Not a too deep cut, the contusion of his head against the moving ship had been rough. A single cut in the upper right cheekbone, clothes clung to him like a second skin. His pockets however were too tempting to be left alone.

Sand and water on them, along a shiny pearl that had you staring and sniffing at the trinket for a close inspection, that didn't pay attention to the locket nesting deeper inside. The pearl was true, so you took it as it quickly etched to your skin, under the ribcage as a decor motif of the raggy top you used to cover your chest.

He'd surely serve as one of Aphrodite's lovers. His forearms laced in tiny and fading scars, that also loitered his solid and somewhat hairy chest. A man through and through. A natural enemy of yours, yet you had saved him.

Probably, he would hunt you too, like the scarce quantity of men you had pulled out of danger. The pearl was a token for saving his life.

You could kill him, filling your tabs with another number, but it wouldn't be honorable. Even if you were a different species, you refused to let some of their habits to rub on you. You opposed greatly to be like them, and so with a look that would suppose to be a final one back at him, you dipped back into the sea.

----

He was on land. Alive, heart beating along every single erratic breath. The sea waves washed over his hips, not cold neither lukewarm. Just the ideal temperature for the humid weather

I'm alive.

His mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. One moment he was in the sea, to then hurl himself back up and puke all the salty water his body had unwillingly ingested.

Miguel was dizzy, but alive. Beaten up, but still breathing. Pissed and ever ready to get his treasure back. But he had to recover some energies first.

Sighing and rising slowly, he turned around to kneel in the moist sand. Tiny grains of it etched to his moist skin, they were rough, altering his sensorial touch for a second. Feet finally got the strength to stand up, careful to not let the nauseas get to his head entirely. Skin burned, but he could bear the discomfort, what Miguel truly needed was a big gulp of water.

He remembered the sun being high on the sky, blazing with all it's glory and witnessing his crew marooning him for good. And now it was night. Somehow thankful that he didn't have to deal with the weather's inclemencies. Step by wobbly step he approached to the thickets and palms rooted in the soil, dressing up modestly the land he walked on.

As another wave of nauseas hit while his head pounded, Miguel stopped to rest in a nearby palm. Calloused hand cupping and covering his mouth to prevent the bile and vomit to spill out once more. Dehydrated as he was, Miguel also understood the dangers of drinking too much salty water.

If dehydration didn't kill him, puking too much without having any other resources on reach would. But none of his survival could be done with the unbridled headache that hammered in his head. A side of it was caked in dry blood, like some strands of his already matted and full of sand hair.

With careful steps he ventured in deeper into the jungle, looking for a spot to spent the night away from land's troubles. The island wasn't familiar for him, he didn't even know if it was big enough to harbor sustainable life, or if ships would pass nearby. With a gasp and a frantic move, he palmed his pockets.

Mierda, no! No

Panic rose upon not feeling the pearl, the sudden motion made his steps stutter as he puked, unable to hold it in anymore. But once he was done and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, he searched into them.

Por favor

The pearl was gone, that was for sure, but relief washed over him upon feeling the fine golden chain of the locket. Hand clasped on it while he brought it to his chest and sighed.

He nearly gave up.

Heart pounding in his ears along his head, and only when he opened the locket, the tears flowed. Calloused fingers full of sandy grains probed the valuable mineral, feeling the dents of the shell shape he knew by heart at this point. Eyes drowning and his voice muffled into a silent and wrathful sob as he inhaled the trinket.

Perdóname, Gabi. (Forgive me)

A faint tickle of fresh home bread, coconut oil that he used to fry the fish, and the eucalyptus ointment that was always next to him brought back the bittersweet memories that flooded his mind about the last years he had with Gabriella. She adored when he cooked, and always smelled his fingers after using the oil.

It reminds me of you, Papa.

She loved freshly baked bread. But hated the smell of the eucalyptus ointment the doctor left her.

The only memento he now had of his beloved and long gone daughter. The only thing that mattered the most for him.

How dared them betraying him when he had been everything but fair and good?

How dared them into taking his ship and some important things he had hid inside? But most importantly, how dared life to show him that mermaids were real when the reason he believed in them in the first place was no longer with him?

Who was he supposed to tell that he saw a mermaid?

A karma for turning into a pirate, maybe. All his mind was able to remember was the way the creature looked at him, a clear assessment of her power. Fear invaded every fiber of his being, making him too stunned to actually think or act until he saw the creature devouring Elliot.

Another reason for him to respect the sea. Now that he had a glimpse of what laid underneath, Miguel wondered what other things crawled in it's depths. But he would think about it all tomorrow.

His eyes drooped in exhaustion. Thinking consumed the last bit of his energy reserves. Despite the thirst clawing at his throat with a vice grip, the headache and weariness were greater. Even though a thicket wasn't the right choice to spend the night, he hadn't the time nor the energies to be picky. He just collapsed once more and hoped whoever above to live another day.

----

The sunlight was slippery enough to leak through the dense foliage and reach patches of the humid and moss textured land, as well parts of his weathered face. With a wince he rolled to his side, avoiding the aurifeous and warm touch from the ever blazing sun.  Head clear from it's pain, and thoughts in order, like it should be.

With a sigh he rose and stretched, popping joints back in their place. Discomfort remaining in his head and wrists, that upon further examination he deducted the cuts in them were fresh, and undoubtedly someone had saved him from a certain death. Who, he didn't know but was grateful for the mysterious savior to let his revenge start.

With a rested yet hungry body, and a fresh head to think, he rolled his shoulders back and took a look around. Surveying his environment to decide which way to go. No weapons, no resources but packed with skills that were honed precisely for these sort of situations.

He still remembered the first time Mundaca had left him in an island with a single knife to fend for himself, since Miguel refused to accompany him in a slave hunting trip. At first he thought that Mundaca had left him for good or out of spite, but Fermín had only taught him a valuable surviving lesson. This time however, he didn't have that knife and would rely only on his hands, brain and brawns.

Naturally, Miguel headed for the north, palm trees left behind, instead acai palms, rubber trees and soursops begun gathering in the place. The scent of wet soil and rotting wood was pungent in the air, oddly, he liked it. Macaws and other birds cackled and cawed as he pushed deeper along some distant rustling.

The overgrown roots twisted and tangled here and there, weaving a walkable path free of them to his right, His eyes darted to the tail of a cobra slithering away from him, minding it's business.

The copious squaking of the birds was a good white noise along the crunching of his wet boots. His throat was beyond arid, that even spit couldn't form in it if he wished; stomach rumbled violently, begging him for some food. Breathings paused but deep.

Hours stretched for what seemed forever, he didn't know if he was walking in circles, the island was definitely not small. He had found some fruit trees along the way, but the things were so our of reach, that attempting to climb for them was a risk. He'd knew the wait would worth it.

Ears however perked at the gunshot given in the distance. Eyes widened, both in surprise and excitement at the thought that civilization was within. Cause that meant, food and water. And also weapons. And what a better way to confirm it than a booming gunshot that spooked away the nearby fawn.

With careful steps, he followed the echo, making the least of noise possible. As much as it thrilled to have a bite, he also understood the implications of such things. Armored men, guarded bodegas, overpowered foremen and probably slaves.

Time flew by, but his spirits lifted upon spotting the first red uniforms in a distance. Two of them. He approached closer to take a better look.

The soldiers had a rifle each, a belt full of ammo and firing at what were now dead slaves as shooting dummies. To his right, Miguel saw a few tents and supplies. Food and water tossed in a nearby bench, a fire was alight, serving as a cooking source for the pot placed above. His eyes however fell upon a machete. Probably belonging to one of the dead men tied up in the wooden posts.

After all, working tools had to be in perfect conditions, leaving no room for slacking off.

Miguel forayed slowly, moving within the foliage until he reached for the machete, with paced breathings he awaited for another shot to rumble to pull the weapon within his reach. The metallic drag was drowned. He couldn't eat until the men were disposed off.

Now that he was armored, a distraction was needed. The branches used for the iron's pot makeshift support were weak, the stew inside boiled. Miguel pushed the tip of the machete on the pot's edge, a little clink connected as the pot was pushed forward, but it barely tumbled it. He awaited for another gunshot to echo to push the pot entirely on the ground.

The lard immediately sent sparks on the floor as smoke surrounded the area. The noisy thud of the pot alarmed one of the guards that didn't waste time into blaming his companion for the shitty structure and how they'd have to go fishing again to get food done.

A little too late the guard noticed the fiery red eyes that glowered at him. Before he could even say something the sharp blade of the machete sliced through this throat in a firm thrust, all the guard could do was a gurgle, perturbed, before plummeting on the floor, staining the blade with a warm crimson as Miguel pulled it out of the body. Flesh sizzling at the contact of the hot coals and wood.

He took a rock that filled in his palm and aimed it for the head of the remaining guard, the other soldier yelped as he fell on the ground, the rock hitting his head with a lurid crack. Miguel lurched for him to end his misery by impaling the weapon in his back. Right in the middle. It was quick, deathly and effective.

Miguel panted but waited in case  another guard was around, but none approached, just the wing flapping of a macaw somewhere. With the machete in  hand he approached to the tent and wasted no time in gobbling down the water in a container, quenching his thirst, not really caring for the droplets that rolled down his neck.

His hands then wiped his face as he scrubbed the caked blood and sand away, then scarfed down the leftovers left in a plate and devoured anything within reach that was cooked or preserved, Adia probably would scold him for eating like an animal, despite being starving.

Once he was satisfied and his strength back, he looked for other weapons he could use. As much as the machete proved a worthy aid, it was long and it made noise. The opposite of what he needed.

The Red Eyed Demon searched into the soldier's pockets, a couple of coins, bullets and gold teeth that seemed freshly pulled out of the bodies in the back. He took the bullets and left the rest, he also found a short ranged pistol, a combat knife and a rope.

Also, to his luck, some fresh clothes. As much as he was set into his vengeance he wouldn't waste the chance into being comfortable while at it. His boots were soiled full of sand and saline water, he changed them, like his pants. The shirt was the only thing he kept since none of the men actually wore his size.

Ridiculous as it was, one of the soldiers had abnormally larger feet. But were perfect for him. Pants still a bit too short but he'd had them any other day instead of walking around feeling uncomfortable and itchy by the salt etched to his skin and clothes.

He ventured deeper only to find a familiar scene before him. A state. Hacienda Valverde read in the overly embellished metal structure that held the sign.

----

So far, Miguel had done a good job in keeping himself hid, the least of attention he attracted, the more successful his escape plan would be. So far he had counted around fifteen soldiers in the property. Five of them scattered through the plantations, making sure the workforce didn't dally in their duties.

He ventured over the trees, avoiding unnecessary trouble, to then land nearly quietly in a mountain of hay. His breathings stopped at every time an unsuspected guard passed by him. Heart pounded in his ears when his steps brought him closer and closer to danger

The rest of the guards were scattered through the property, watching over the stables, the main storage room, inside the hacienda and of course, watching over the supply.

He had snuck in the warehouse, to his surprise the cells were empty, he went through each of them to see if anything worthy had been left behind, but the sound of the lock being picked made him hide behind a couple of haystacks.

"Stop, Stop!" A groan came from a wriggling man, "I told you the truth! Let me go!"

Miguel couldn't see who was the prisoner, peeking out would be too risky, but the lack of accent, gave him a hint. An American.

The man grunted as he kicked, managed to land a punch or two to the guards that only twisted his shackled hands backwards. This made the man whine and curse, blind hot pain shot in his ribcage as another soldier hit him with the base of his rifle.

"Shut your fucking gob!" With a rough shove, the fighting man was thrown into the cell, the enclosure's door stilled with a loud creak as the main door was slammed shut.

The only noises the pirate could hear was the pained grunts that only increased when the prisoner tried to pick himself up from the floor, and the shaky huffing that turned into whiny whimpers when he managed to recover some air.

The day was set to surprise him, cause in his life he had seen a white man being thrown in a slave cell. Until now.

The man was tall, lean muscle in his body, a five o'clock stubble in his narrow cheeks and blue eyes. Hair hapzardly peeking ontop of his head.

"Fuck..." He groaned but recoiled in his cell even further upon seeing the shade of red glinting at him behind the haystacks. Pain screamed in every breathing he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to get himself free.

"H-Hey"

The man's eyes widened as soon as Miguel came into full view. He had to crane his head upwards to meet his eyes and gulped as soon as he realized the color in the behemoth of a man. Breaths shallow but less erratic than before now that he knew he had company.

"Please. Help me out of here, pal"

He was definitely American.

"And why would I do that?"

Miguel’s bushy brow quirked while taking another look through the warehouse, searching for alternative escape routes.

"Cause my wife just gave birth and I wanna meet my little girl."

A red stare seized the blue one. His unwavering, but the man's rivalled against it. Miguel broke contact as his hands fisted briefly. The prisoner's chest heaved whole he rubbed the area he was hit on.

Lucky bastard

"I was supposed to arrive last week but I was taken from the ship."

"Why?"

Miguel looked through the haystacks and other corners he didn't have the chance to search thoroughly.

"That's what I'd like to know!" The man sat against the lateral bars and winced defeated, watching at the moving man.

"I was a merchant, on a trip to improve a little familiar business I have, but Nueva York isn't precisely friendly with the working class." He paused to take some air the hit had taken away, "So I came back. And that's where the english trapped me." His forehead rested ontop of his scrapped and bloodied knuckles. The spark that gave him a beating and his imprisonment.

"The English are press ganging civilians at sea."

Miguel's lip twitched in a scowl upon hearing the news. Of course they would, Americans and English were too deep in political wars that could barely stand eachother. But in the sea, the English were the masters and none was there to stop them. More like he wasn't there to sink as many of them as possible.

Yet.

"How old is your daughter?"

The pirate asked above his shoulder and this made the gaoler to look up.

"Three weeks old. According to my wife's last letter."

Miguel's shoulder slumped, and he turned to look at the man. A little hesitation passed over his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he saw an old acquaintance of him. Hope. Red eyes rolled annoyed, as if regretting the sudden decision he was about to make.

"Do you know how to use a weapon?"

The question surely threw the man off, but still managed to reply

"Y-Yeah. Not fond of them, but yeah."

"Fight?"

"Not a complete useless if that's what you're hinting at."

Miguel chuckled and approached closer to the cell, examining the lock while the detainee put on his pair of boots.

"Gimme a wire and I'll get myself out of here."

Miguel instead took a nearby shovel to destroy the lock in a couple of hits. The metal piece clanking on the floor as it fell.

"O-Or you could do that. Yeah."

The man stood on his feet and stretched before offering his hand to him, Miguel just stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in a firm shake. Peter hid a wince at the sheer display of strength and that he had grabbed his injured hand.

"Peter B. Parker. Merchant and lock master."

"Miguel O'Hara. Pirate."

Peter could only blink stupidly at him.

"Let's go."

But followed him without much thought.

-----

Taglist:

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[theregencywriter]

Omg omg omg wait wait wait idk if anyone ever done this before but imagine meeting Colin on his travels and he thinks he'll never see you again so like yall might have shared a kiss 🤭 and then when Colin goes back him for the season and sees you his brain just short circuits and he's just shocked and his family have no idea why lol

Idk I would just love to see that lmao I love seeing Colin in distress when it comes to the women he loves

Over the sandy dunes - Colin Bridgerton X Reader

A/n : I love this request!!!! I saw it pop up in my inbox and I just HAD to write it ASAP, thank you so much for the request <3

When Colin Bridgerton left London to escape all of the recent turbulent events, he felt he could breathe again. With no Lady Whistledown looking over his shoulder or a hundred debutantes wishing for a dance, he could simply relax. It was in his sixth week abroad when he took rest along the shores of a beach in Greece. He had woken up early to catch the morning sun rise and be alone with his thoughts. He liked the guides he had, but to find true solitude with no one around was a rarity even in the smallest of towns. Laying on his back he stared up at the sky as the stars retreated upwards into the deep blue, and as the first rays of light pricked his noses and ran into his eyes he sat up to gaze upon the marvel.

His view, however, was obstructed. Up ahead was a woman on the beach, standing close to the thrashing sea and wearing a light dress with a lilac shawl that was tussling with the burgeoning winds. Normally he would have hated this interruption as he had woken up early specifically to be alone, but when looking at her form and how she seemed to sway ever so delicately he couldn't help but advance.

“Lovely day, isnt it?” As he uttered these words she quickly spun around in shock, making him realise he was probably far too close for comfort ad taking a step back. As she assessed the moment and relaxed  she spoke. “Yes, it is beautiful. I’m sorry, I thought I was alone here.” Colin chuckled. “Did you not see me laying down mere metres behind you?” She joined him in a laugh. “I have been walking along the shore for quite a while now. I fear my gaze was fixed on the horizon, nothing could break me from it.” 

A moment of silence fell between them. “Colin Bridgerton” he reached out his hand. “I am unsure if I can give you my familial name, but please, call me Y/n.” She gave him her hand and he planted a soft kiss onto it. “You speak with a similar accent, are you from London?” He enquired. “Not quite. I do have relatives in the city, but I live further North, close to Lincoln.”

Colin broke a smile. “Ah, well then, that explains it.” She looked at him, puzzled yet entertained. “Explains what?”

“Well I was unsure of how I could have never seen a face as beautiful as yours during a ball.” She looked down, and bit her lips. “If I may be honest, I was meant to debut this year, but I find the whole event to be pure drabble.” They shared a laugh. “In truth, I much prefer this to a ball. Endless exploration available at my very fingertips. It’s a wonder, is it not?” She looked at him, then towards the sunset, and she was returning his gaze once more he took her in, kissing her as she cupped his face.

This lasted for only a second before he pulled away. “I apologise, that was improper.” “Mr Bridgerton it was-” Another voice called down towards them from Colins residence. “Mr Bridgerton, there is a matter you must attend to!” Despite looking at his forlorn beau, he ran up the sandy dunes and over the hill, leaving Y/n alone.

Hours later, after sitting with the incident and realising he hadn’t allowed her to speak he ordered a carriage. According to his guided there was only one possible place anyone of her status could stay close by, but when he arrived he was informed that the family had left earlier on in the day, whilst refusing to give them their whereabouts. Upon his return to England he attempted to find her. Asking around if her name was known but without her last name, his efforts turned up nothing.

—

Colin fidgeted with his cuff, it had been slightly wrinkled earlier on yet he had no time to change it. He was never really a fan of these events, but knowing that Y/n detested them as well made it worse. The one event they conversed about, yet the subject was how she did not intend to be in attendance. His stomach churned thinking about it. How could he have left? No no, not just left, run up the dunes to get away from her. He had to take a breath and stop himself. It had been a year, he thought, he must move on. As he calmed and took a moment the doors swung open to announce another guest.

“Lady L/n and her daughter, Miss Y/n L/n”

His gaze was transfixed on her. As she came down the stairs her hand grasped by Colin, already a couple of steps up from his eagerness. “Miss Y/n, I believe I owe you a dance” He proclaimed, stroking her finger as he did and wondering about her ring size.

[aradiyatoys]

🎉 [NEW PATTERN RELEASE] 🎉

Today, I welcome you to Lighthouse Island to meet the Lighthouse Keeper and his adorable little friends! 🦭

On the remote Lighthouse Island, the Lighthouse Keeper 🌊 ensures that no ship 🛳 in the Mini Kingdom 👑 ever gets lost. Day and night, he watches over the sea from his tall, bright lighthouse, guiding sailors safely home. His only companions are a friendly Baby Seal 🦭 who loves to play in the waves and a wise Pelican who brings news 🗞 from afar. Together, they keep the island lively and full of warmth, even in the Keeper’s solitude. The Bucket of Fish 🪣 is always ready, filled with treats for his beloved friends! 🥰

Lighthouse Island – the sea-themed 🌊 set of toys from the ‘Mini Kingdom’ collection. This pattern describes how to create the following five toys: Lighthouse Keeper, Bucket of fish, Pelican, Lighthouse and Baby Seal.

It seems we’ve started a wonderful new tradition – introducing sea-themed characters every August, hasn’t it? 😊 For quite some time, I wanted to create a Lighthouse and somehow incorporate it into the Mini Kingdom. That’s how the idea of Lighthouse Island came to me earlier this year, and now it fits perfectly with the Kawaii Ocean Minis 🪸 and Treasure Island 🏝 characters! And here’s some good news: no ships in the Mini Kingdom will get lost from now on! 😍

The pattern is already available in English, German, French, Spanish, Italian and Dutch here -> https://etsy.me/4ctnkOP 🤗

Portuguese translation is coming very soon! 😊

It’s summer ☀️, and many people are on vacation, nevertheless, these wonderful and incredibly responsible girls are always ready to proofread, test, and translate my patterns: Celine, Isa, MJ, Clarissa, Sabrina, Roberta, Sarah, Gwendoline and Lyubov! Thank you so much! 💛💙

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Too Sweet

CW: Smut

Word Count: 3,887

Nights like these were what Charlotte lived for. She reveled in the excitement of going out with friends, hitting up bars and clubs, and indulging in the thrill of hooking up with strangers. It wasn't something she actively sought out, but once she was in the midst of it all, she couldn't resist. The pulsating energy of the alcohol coursing through her veins, mixed with the throbbing beats of the music, sent her senses into a frenzy. It was a wild and intoxicating experience that she couldn't get enough of. 

As she weaved her way through the throng of people, her body brushed against others and she felt the warmth of their skin. The smell of sweat and alcohol mixed in the air, creating a heady atmosphere. But she didn't mind - in fact, she relished the closeness and connection with strangers that this crowded space provided. Finally reaching the bar, she scanned the crowd for her friends but they were nowhere to be seen. Just moments ago, she had caught glimpses of their familiar faces among the sea of strangers, but now they seemed to have vanished into thin air.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Charlotte pulled out her phone and unlocked it, tapping furiously at the screen to open the Girly Girl Group chat. The small group of her closest friends had created the chat to keep their conversations contained and private. "Hey," she quickly typed out, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of her thoughts. "Where did you all go? I can't find you anywhere." After what felt like an eternity, her hand buzzed in response, signaling a new message from one of her friends. "Em got sick," it read, "we're taking her home. We totally forgot to find you before we left." Charlotte let out a sigh of frustration as she read the message, wishing she had been there to help take care of her friend.

The bar was unusually quiet and Charlotte easily made her way through the sparse crowd to the counter. Despite the emptiness, a few seats were still available, including two to her left. She fervently hoped that no one would choose to sit next to her; she longed for a night of solitude after being unable to let loose with her friends. The air in the bar was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, mingled with the faint aroma of cologne and perfume. Dim lights cast a warm glow over the dark wood furnishings and the low murmur of conversations created a cozy atmosphere. Charlotte relished in this moment of peace, sipping her drink and taking in the sights and sounds around her.

She scanned the room, her gaze lingering on each person before finally landing on a man sitting directly across the bar. He appeared to be in his early twenties, his features chiseled and strong. He held a glass in his hand, swirling the liquid inside before bringing it to his lips for a small sip. As he placed the glass back on the counter, he caught her eye with his piercing green gaze. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

His hair cascaded down to his broad shoulders in loose waves, each strand catching the light and reflecting shades of a chocolatey brown. She couldn't make out the intricate designs, but she could see glimpses of colorful tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeves of his plain button down shirt. The fabric hung ever so slightly oversized on his frame, adding to his rugged yet effortlessly cool appearance. A pair of sleek sunglasses dangled from the edge of his shirt pocket, completing the picture of a confident and strikingly handsome man before her. He was a beautiful sight to behold.

As she drifted deeper into her thoughts, the bartender's voice broke through Charlotte's trance. "Hey, can I get you anything else?" She glanced up at him, her eyes taking in his rugged features and easy smile. "Yeah. Um, can I have another rum and coke? And could you also order me another of whatever the man across from me is having?" Her gaze shifted to the man in question.

The bartender nodded knowingly and smirked. "For him?" He turned his head and pointed towards the man. "That's Harry. He's an old-time regular around here. Travels a lot so I don't get to see him often. But let me tell you something, he never pays for his drinks." A mischievous sparkle lit up his eyes as he leaned in closer. "If you catch my drift."

Charlotte caught it all too well. In just a few words, the bartender had conveyed that her idea of buying this man, Harry, a drink was far from original and most likely wouldn't lead to any kind of connection with him. She sighed inwardly but thanked the bartender anyway before turning back to her drink, disappointed but not entirely surprised by his revelation.

She observed him expertly crafting their drinks, his hands moving with a fluid grace as he added just the right amount of each ingredient. Her drink was placed in front of her spot at the bar, and then he walked over to Harry and placed his drink down, explaining that it was bought for him by her. Harry nodded, got up, and left. Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. Was buying the drink too forward? Did she make him angry? But before she could dwell on it any longer, he returned, not to his original spot but to the one next to her. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. This was what she had hoped for, but after the bartender's warning about Harry receiving drinks all the time, she didn't expect it to actually happen.

Harry leaned casually against the bar, his gaze fixed on Charlotte. "Well, aren't you just full of surprises?" he drawled, taking a sip of his drink.

Charlotte couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she countered playfully.

"Oh, it's definitely a good thing," Harry replied, his voice low and confident. "I'm Harry, by the way." He extended a hand towards her.

She took his hand in hers, her fingers lightly brushing against his skin as they shook. "Charlotte," she murmured softly. "It's nice to meet you, Harry."

"The pleasure is all mine," he said with a grin. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Well," Charlotte began hesitantly, not sure how much to reveal about herself so early on in their conversation. "I came with friends, one of them got sick and they all left without me, so here I am."

"Must be your lucky day then," Harry quipped back, winking at her cheekily. "Because I happen to be here too."

Charlotte couldn't help but chuckle at his boldness. "I guess it is my lucky day," she replied, matching his playful tone.

Harry couldn't help but smirk at Charlotte's response. He liked a woman who could give as good as she got, and from the way she seemed to be enjoying their playful banter, it was clear that she knew how to have a good time. "So tell me, Charlotte," he said leaning in closer to her, "what do you do when you're not getting drinks for strangers or being left behind by friends?"

"Well," she began, tilting her head to the side curiously, "when I'm not stuck here with you, that is," she added with a playful smirk of her own, "I actually work for a travel magazine."

"Really?" Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And what exactly does that entail? Traveling the world and writing about it?"

"Something like that," Charlotte replied with a grin. "Although sometimes it feels more like researching destinations and coaxing people into telling me their secrets."

"Sounds like an interesting job," Harry said thoughtfully. "But I bet there's nothing more thrilling than discovering those hidden gems all on your own, right?"

"You know," Charlotte mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "you might be onto something there. Maybe I should start exploring more on my own."

Harry chuckled softly at her response. "Well, if you ever need a travel companion," he suggested casually, his eyes never leaving hers, "you know who to call."

Charlotte felt her heart skip a beat at his words. There was definitely something brewing between them, and she couldn't help but feel excited about the possibility of where this newfound connection could lead them. However, before she could respond further, they were interrupted by the sound of clinking glasses coming from across the bar.

"Hey guys!" a voice called out cheerfully from down the bar. "I just overheard that Harry over here has been getting free drinks all night! That's fantastic news!" The group of people around him erupted into laughter as they all turned towards them.

Charlotte couldn't help but giggle along with them as Harry groaned in exaggerated annoyance. "Oh come on now," he grumbled good-naturedly, rolling his eyes at his friends' antics. "Why ruin a perfectly good rum and coke moment?"

Charlotte smiled at the playful banter, feeling grateful for the unexpected interruption. She glanced back at Harry, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he shook his head in mock exasperation at his friends' antics.

"Well," Charlotte said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "it looks like you've got quite the fan club here, Harry. Free drinks and all! I might need to start hanging around you more often."

Harry laughed, a warm sound that made Charlotte's heart flutter. "I'll have to watch out for freeloaders now that my secret's out," he joked, his gaze lingering on Charlotte.

As the night continued with laughter and shared stories, Charlotte realized that perhaps the best hidden gem she had discovered that evening wasn't a place or a secret, but rather the connection she was building with Harry. And as they exchanged smiles and easy conversation, she knew that this chance encounter was just the beginning of an exciting new chapter waiting to unfold.

As she turned back to Harry, she noticed him sipping his drink slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. She watched his throat move gracefully, unconsciously following its movement with her eyes. The smell of smoke from the nearby table wafted over from a group of smokers outside chatting animatedly about their night so far; it mingled with the scent of stale beer and flowery perfume from a woman who walked past them moments ago. She wanted him. Badly.

As the laughter from Harry's friends echoed in the background, Charlotte decided to take a leap into unknown waters. Her full lips curved into an impish grin as she leaned closer to him, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. " I was thinking of heading back to my place...but I wouldn't mind some company."

Harry choked on his drink, a surprised cough bouncing off the dim lights of the bar. His azure eyes widened for a moment before they smoldered with a heat that made Charlotte's belly flutter. "Are you sure?" he asked, his rich baritone sending shivers down her spine.

Charlotte felt her body react to his words - anticipation pooling deliciously between her thighs. She responded by tracing her finger up his arm, her touch light but incendiary. "I've never been more certain," she replied confidently, the huskiness in her voice revealing just how much she wanted him.

With a swift movement, Harry grabbed their jackets and led Charlotte out of the bar. The cool night air did little to douse their palpable attraction; it only seemed to heighten it further as they stumbled into the backseat of the taxi waiting outside.

As soon as they were alone, Charlotte found herself pinned against the plush leather seat, Harry's large hands roaming over her body. Their lips met in a fiery clash of teeth and tongues. Each fervent kiss made Charlotte whimper and gasp for breath - her body quivering under his masterful touch.

His fingers found their way under her shirt, tracing tantalizing patterns on her silken skin. Her nipples hardened instantly beneath his touch, causing Charlotte to arch into him and moan wantonly into his mouth.

Harry's grip tightened as a low growl escaped his lips, interrupting their heated kiss. He glanced around, suddenly aware of their surroundings - a cramped taxi with a bemused driver in the front seat. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he pulled away from Charlotte and muttered an apology to the driver before paying the fare and exiting the vehicle. They stumbled up to Charlotte's small flat, fumbling with keys and struggling to open the door in their urgency. Finally inside, they were consumed by each other once more, the intensity of their desire seemingly boundless.

Finally, they descended upon each other once more, the intensity growing. Within moments, clothes were shed and strewn about the room. Harry gently pushed Charlotte onto the bed, his hands exploring her body with an insatiable hunger. As he leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth, she grasped his erection, stroking him firmly as she felt his breath hitch in response. Their bodies intertwined, Harry's fingers found her wetness, teasing her and coaxing a desperate moan from her lips.

Their tongues tangled in an erotic dance as their bodies writhed together in a symphony of lust. As Harry's hand gripped Charlotte's thigh, he pulled her closer, grinding his hips against hers. She moaned into the kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"You taste so good," Harry murmured between kisses, his free hand trailing down her side and dipping beneath her waistband to find her wetness once more. He plunged two fingers into her core, eliciting a gasp from her lips as she arched her back off the bed.

"Fuck," she groaned, "Don't stop."

His thumb circled her swollen bud while his fingers pumped in and out of her in a rapid rhythm that sent shivers down her spine. Harry's other hand found its way between their bodies, tracing the hard line of his erection against her stomach before slipping lower to tease at her entrance.

"I want you inside me," she whispered hoarsely, rocking her hips towards him in desperation. Without another word, Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside slowly but surely until he was fully sheathed within her tight warmth before removing himself as a tease. 

"Fuck," he growled deep in his throat.

Harry grabbed Charlotte's wrists and pinned them above her head, holding her captive beneath him. His lips crashed down onto hers in a fierce, passionate kiss that left her breathless. He nipped at her lower lip before slipping his tongue inside her mouth to explore every corner of this beauty beneath him.

As they made out, he ground his hips against hers, teasingly rubbing himself against the wet folds of her entrance. She moaned loudly into his mouth, unable to resist the intense desire coursing through her veins. Her body arched off of the bed as she begged for more of his touch.

Harry pulled away from their kiss, trailing hot breath along Charlotte's jawline until he reached her earlobe which he nipped softly before whispering, "You're going to love every second of what I'm about to do to you."

Without further warning, he thrust into her tight warmth with forceful precision, claiming her body as his own with each powerful stroke inside her welcoming depths. She cried out in delight at the incredible feeling of being filled by him so completely. His hard muscles flexed against her sensitive flesh as he held most of his weight on his arms while continuing to pound into her relentlessly hard.

"Oh fuck!" Charlotte groaned out loudly as she felt herself being taken over by waves of pleasure she had never experienced before from this rough yet beautiful session with Harry who was treating her like an object for his lust but still keeping it safe.

As Harry continued his violent invasion of Charlotte's body, she let out a long, low moan that reverberated through both of them. "Oh... my... God..." she panted, her head thrown back in ecstasy as he thrust deeper and harder into her with each passing moment.

His rough hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place while he took her with a ferocity that left her breathless. "Uuuuhhh... harder," she begged between gasps for air. She could feel herself getting closer to the edge with every stroke of his thick cock inside her.

Harry obliged, slamming into her with renewed force that made every particle of her being sing with pleasure. She arched her back off the bed, crying out in delight as he filled her completely. "Fuck! You feel so good," he groaned between harsh breaths.

Charlotte couldn't help but moan in agreement. "Aaaahhh... yes!" She tightened her grip on his shoulders, urging him on as he continued to pound into her at an unrelenting pace. Every time he bottomed out inside her, she felt herself being pulled closer to the brink of orgasm.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each one responding to the other's every move with a desperation that only fueled their passion further. As they neared the peak together, Charlotte's breath came in short gasps and whispers of encouragement. "Oh my god... I'm going to cum."

Harry's thrusts grew even more frenzied as he felt himself getting closer too. "Cum for me," he growled into her ear before pulling out roughly and shooting his hot load across her stomach and chest. 

Charlotte screamed out his name as the intense sensations washed over her, taking her over the edge too. Her body convulsed around him; she arched off the bed and shuddered violently as waves of pleasure coursed through every fiber of her being. 

Finally spent, they collapsed onto the bed together, panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath from this intense encounter filled with raw lust and unbridled passion. It was clear that neither one would ever forget this night anytime soon....

As the weeks went by, Harry and Charlotte's fiery encounters continued. They would meet at the bar, share a few drinks and laughs, and then head back to Harry's place for wild nights of passion.

But as much as Charlotte enjoyed their steamy rendezvous, she couldn't help but develop feelings for Harry. She found herself eagerly anticipating their next meeting and craving his touch even when they were apart. 

And it wasn't just about the physical chemistry between them anymore. Charlotte loved the way Harry made her laugh with his dry wit and dark sense of humor. She loved the way he took care of her after sex, bringing her water and cuddling with her until she fell asleep.

One day, as they lay in bed together after another mind-blowing session, Charlotte couldn't keep her feelings bottled up any longer. "Harry," she whispered, running her fingers through his messy hair.

He turned to look at her with those piercing green eyes that always seemed to see right through her. "Yeah?"

"I... I want more," she said, feeling a little vulnerable but also relieved that she had finally said it out loud.

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "More?"

Charlotte nodded, suddenly feeling a rush of courage. "I want us to be exclusive." but unlike Charlotte Harry did not want the same things.

Harry's expression shifted, his features hardening slightly as he processed Charlotte's words. He sat up, pulling away from her touch, a furrow forming between his brows.

"Exclusive?" he repeated, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Charlotte, I thought we were on the same page about keeping things casual."

Charlotte's heart sank at his reaction, but she steeled herself and met his gaze head-on. "I know we started off that way, but I've developed real feelings for you, Harry. I want more than just these occasional hookups."

Harry ran a hand through his tousled hair, his jaw tensing as he pondered her words. "I... I care about you too, Charlotte. But I'm not sure if I can give you what you're asking for."

Disappointment washed over Charlotte, but she refused to back down. "Why not? What is holding you back?"

Harry looked her dead in the eyes, “You’re too sweet for me.”

Anger ignited within Charlotte at his dismissive response. Her voice laced with frustration, she shot back without missing a beat, "Don't use that as an excuse, Harry. It's about being honest and upfront about what you want."

The room felt suffocating as their confrontation escalated. Harry's jaw tightened further as he stood up, towering over her in a display of defiance. "Maybe you're just too naive to understand," he retorted sharply.

Charlotte rose to meet him at eye level, her own anger rising to match his intensity. "Naive? I know what I want, and I won't settle for anything less," she declared firmly.

Their voices clashed like thunder in the room, echoing off the walls in a fierce battle of wills. Harry took a step forward, his posture challenging as he looked down at her. "You think you can change me? I take my whiskey neat, I’m up until three am most nights. " he challenged, his tone daring her to prove him wrong.

Charlotte didn't flinch under his gaze; instead, she stood her ground with unwavering determination. "I'm not trying to change you, Harry. I'm asking for honesty and transparency in what we share," she shot back defiantly.

The air crackled with tension as their words hung between them like a gauntlet thrown down.

"Maybe we're just too different," Harry stated bluntly, his tone final.

Charlotte refused to back down, her voice firm and resolute. "Our differences don't have to tear us apart. We can find a middle ground if we're willing to try."

The room felt charged with electricity as they stood locked in their battle of wills, neither willing to yield.

The tension between them reached its peak as they stood locked in a silent standoff, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Harry broke the silence with a resigned sigh. "I don't know if I can give you what you're looking for," he admitted quietly.

Harry's gaze bore into Charlotte's, his expression unreadable. "I need time to figure this out," he finally admitted, uncertainty coloring his voice.

Charlotte nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. "Take all the time you need. Just know that I won't settle for less than I deserve."

The tension in the room eased slightly as they both took a step back, their gazes still locked in silent understanding.

Charlotte's shoulders sagged at his admission, the reality of their differences sinking in. With a heavy heart but steely resolve, she met his gaze one last time before turning away.

"I understand," he said softly. She walked towards the door.

As she reached for the handle, Harry's hand shot out to grasp hers gently, stopping her from leaving. The room fell into a tense silence as they shared a moment of unspoken understanding before Charlotte pulled away slowly and walked out into the night.

[valleyofroses]

Yearning hearts

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Summery : when a grave mistake is made, what else can you do other than wishing upon stars?

Characters : Dormleaders

Content warnings : spoilers(chapter1,6), angst, self-criticism, depression

a/n : I must admit this isn't what I expected but I hope you can enjoy it. If there is anything I missed(trigger wanring, etc)please notify me <3

𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

Riddle always looks forward. What happened in the past is in the past, it can't be changed.

Yet he keeps on looking back to the time you vanished. How and why exactly did you disappear? What would have happened if he didn't leave your side? If he stuck by your side till the very end? Would you be here right now ? In his arms?

He lays in bed, thinking about what he could've done.

Everything reminds him of you. And it's not nice. They are not nice thoughts. Where are you? Are you safe? You might be scared, you don't know anywhere in this world !-

Whenever he lays on his bed, he can feel it. It's so wrong for you to not be there, forbidden even.

He feels lonely. You were his home, why did you disappear? Did you feel like this when you first got here? Did you feel this ache everyday? How did you handle it?

He stays awake in his bed late at night, regreting every single decision until his heart begins to ache and tears start to soak his pillow.

Did this happen because he didn't follow the rules? Maybe his mother was right after all, maybe he should've just followed the rules he should've-

One night when he can't sleep, even after crying, he looks at the stars and sees a shooting star and the tears start to fall again.

"Please come back ."

𝐿𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑎 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑟

He sleeps as much as before and doesn't attend classes. Leona is the same.

Except he isn't. No one notices the way he sleeps more than usual, the dark small circles under his eyes, the fact that he doesn't talk to anyone anymore.

He didn't expect for your disappearance to effect him that much. He didn't expect the empty feeling in his heart. Like something precious has been taken away from him.

His dreams are all about you. Every single one of them.

In some, his head is in your lap. He sees you stroking his hair while telling him about your day. Yet this time he doesn't nag you to stop talking so he could sleep. He can't get enough of your voice.

But then he wakes up. Realizing it's all a cruel dream.

In some, he is all alone. Walking in darkness calling out your name, desperately trying to find you but to no avail.

He wakes up from those dreams terrified. They have his heart racing, beating hard enough to tear itself out of his chest.

Not paying any attention to the sweat and tears mixed on his skin, he gasps. Please please please where are you?

In one of his dreams he sees a shooting star. Leona doesn't believe in it nor in its miracles, but it’s the only thing offering some hope, and so he wishes upon the star.

It upsets him to not see you everyday. To not see your smile, to not hear about the stupid things you did with Ace and Duece.

What a cruel world, hasn't he suffered enough?

𝐴𝑧𝑢𝑙 𝐴𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜

Azul doesn't let it show. In order to trick people, in order to survive, in order to get information, he must not let it effect him-

He cries in the solitude of his octopot for hours, thinking about you. Just what if he is never going to see you again? All he wants is to be with you again. He can't sleep at all, he is scared of the nightmares that haunt him. But some nights are just... different. It has a very dreamy atmosphere, like he is on the clouds and the sound of the waves are lulling him to sleep. And those are the nights he dreams of you. Not a nightmare, an actual dream. Both of you having a picnic near the sea, the sun shining brightly and you both are happy. He looks at the way your eyes shine and the wind brushes your hair. Those nights he gets to sleep comfortably.

In one of his dreams you are both looking at the reflection of the sky on the water. He is thinking about you, about how much he missed your smile until you tell him to make a wish. " A shooting star just passed be quickmake a wish!" And before he could answer you he wales up.

He reaches for you, and you're not there. It wakes gim up immediately, once again proving him that he was just dreaming. He usually wakes up in the middle of the night or in the early morning. When it's a a nightmare he wakes up all sweaty struggling to breathe. Then the chaos in his mind starts. Are you safe? Are you scared?How did you exactly disappear? You didn't know how to cast a spell like that. When did you disappear? Was it in the middle of the-

He is determined to find you. No one and nothing is going to stop him. He will resort to anything in order to reach hid goal, even if that means making a deal with god.

𝐾𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑚 𝐴𝑙 𝐴𝑠𝑖𝑚

It's almost like evryday lfe for him. Almost. It takes a little longer for him to get out of bed in the morning. Jamil enters his room, thinking that Kalim overslept again, but then he sees Kalim just scaring at the ceiling and it scares him. The way that Kalim's eyes are so empty scares him. The parties are not like they used to be. They are quiet, unusually quiet.

There are nights that Kalim just disappears into thin air. Kalim goes on ride with his magical carpet, looking at stars, watching the sands shine beneath and then suddenly he sees a shooting star. He makes his wish and wonders what wish would you make if you were here. He stays alone in the sky for a little longer. Praying to the stars to guide you home.

When he sees Jamil back at the dorm, he falls apart. Throwing himself in the arms of his friend, his body shaking like a leaf.

In the midnight wakes up from the nightmares, gasping for air. They never leave, even for a night. He doesn't know what to do, his heart is beating wildly in his chest, he can't control his breathing, just what is happening to him- Kalim falls back asleep after the commotion, he is so tired he can't stay awake anymore. When he wakes up in the morning, he is paralyzed. What happened last night? What was that? Kalim doesn't know if he can go through that again. He just needs you there with him. To hold him and tell him everything is okay.

𝑉𝑖𝑙 𝑆𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑡

Vil is devastated. He doesn't know what to do anymore.

He still attends the classes, gets good grades, he lives his normal life. But he's just... not himself anymore, there is something wrong.

He doesn't have the energy to scold Epel anymore. After he's done with his tasks he goes straight to his room.

When he's alone he finally let's himself breakdown after keeping up the facade for the whole day.He let silent tears fall from his eyes like a waterfall, grips his hair so hard just to try and numb the pain in his heart.

You were always there to hold him during the tough times. Always there to help him heal and comfort him. Why wasn't he there when you needed him? Where was he when your whole body was filled with despair and fear?

He can't do anything without thinking about you anymore. He opens his book in order to study, and everything's fine until he reaches that one cursed sentence you always laugh at. And the sound of your laugh echos in his mind. It reminds him of the times you two spent together, doing skincare, baking sweets and alot more.

He gets lost in the memories. It when a small tear falls down on the book that he notices he's been thinking about you instead of studying.

Late at night just before he goes to sleep, he looks at a painting of you two that you painted yourself. It soothes the pain in his chest. That's when he takes one last look at the sky before going to sleep. There's a shooting star. Vil wishes that next time he sees one you're by his side.

He knows you won't give him up, he knows wherever you are, you'll find your way back to him. And he won't give you up either, nothing is more important than you in his world. Vil doesn't lose hope. He believes in you, he knows you'll come back to him. And then you two will be whole again.

𝐼𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑆ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑

Why? Why does he have to go through these things? First Ortho and now-. Idia doesn't come out of his room anymore, what's the point? He doesn't get to see you anymore. Ortho is the same, he misses you so much that he can't go a day without watching the memories of you three spending time together. But for the sake of his older brother he still tries to be happier.

Idia refuses to believe that you are gone. He still waits for you to come to the gaming sessions, waits for you so you guys can watch the new anime together, he still waits for you to knock on that cursed door and say that you were sorry for keeping him waiting. But one day, while waiting for you he looks at the controller that you used, and that's when he realizes you are not coming back. No matter how much he waits for you.

And that's when the voices in his head get louder than ever. Idia doesn't want to losten to them, he doesn't want to think that you're gone, he doesn't want to think that you're dead, you're not gone! You're just-. He doesn't want to listen to the voices anymore. So he plays your favorite anime and put on his headphones so he can't hear anything else.

The screen of his computer is black and he can see his reflection. He stares at it for so long, has it been an hour already? How much time has passed? And all he can think about is what went wrong? What led to this situation? He could just build a robot ! That sounds right- but could he really? Could he create all the beauty and emotions you had?

The last scene of the episode comes, the two lovers finally together and a shooting star passing, sealing their happily ever after together. Why couldn't that be you two?

𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑢𝑠 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑎

At night, when he can't handle being alone, he visits ramshackle, in hopes tgat you might've returned. But everything is so quiet. Ramshackle is so quiet and dead without you. Wherever he looks there is a layer of dust. Malleus can see you in everything but you yourself are nowhereto be seen, your clothes, your favorite books on the desk, thw painting on your canvas is also left undone. Certainly you were here, these are all memories of you, but why are you not here? The silence goes away when he sits on your bed and looks at the mirror. Malleus looks at his reflection, his hand under his glossy eyes, tears falling like a waterfall, his hair shining under the moonlight.

And then it's suddenly too loud tk be able to think. Why does he have to be all alone? Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? Malleus just wanted to be loved? And malleus keeps on crying until the sun rises.

Malleus roams the halls of ramshackle, finding comfort looking at the home you built for yourself. It also feels like home to him. Somewhere he can be vulnerable, Somewhere he can he himself. Free of all responsibilities, Malleus can finally be himself.

Malleus spends his days and nights at ramshackle, you might not be there, but that doem itself is a memory of you. It might not be home to him, yet it still carries your remnants of your soul. Malleus takes care of everything in your absence, such as watering the flowers. It reminds him of the times he helped you take care of the garden. He also takes pictures of anything that interests him, so he could show it to you when you come back and you two can have another long session about what you're going to do on your next date.

Malleus would wait for you forever, if that means you come back to him. Laying on your bed, looking at the stars, a shooting star passing, making a wish wouldn't hurt, right?

[llycaons]

okay let me organize. this will probably take me to next year but I do want to prioritize what was already on my list

already up there, no matter the quality:

sorceror to the crown

when fox is a thousand

a taste of gold and iron (if I ever get around to it...)

sistersong - need to give this one a shot

snow crash

tress of the emerald sea - my baby brother LOVES this one I must not disappoint new:

anna karenina - my mom likes this one and I'm excited for the drama and writing

don quixote - a parody, I think

the count of monte cristo - I saw the movie! definitely on the list

the bluest eye - I was unable to keep reading this one when I initially started it but I really love morrison's other works so I'm bringing it back now

the metamorphosis - on the list but not available as an audiobook so it could be a while

things fall apart - definitely a priority, but not available as an audiobook

dracula - available but im saving it for halloween. the structure intrigues me. I tried doing the dracula daily but got bored

frankenstein - on the list!

gods of jade and shadow - not considered a classic but I still want to read it, don't want it to be left behind now that I'm in another bout of book-reading

giovvani's room - 14 weeks wait :(

journey to the west - I think I know enough to be able to follow it but maybe an annotated copy would be better

epic of gilgamesh - release an audio version 🥺🥺🥺 pleaseeee

one hundred years of solitude - I do want to read this but I think I will need help

crime and punishment - I tried to read this one when I started college but it was DENSE. lower priority

moby dick - I have friends into this one!

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See - this looks extremely well-researched and I'm pretty intrigued by the language that's referenced, the one that women use to communicate with each other

The Bonesetter's Daughter by Amy Tan - I like Tan's work, and this one is new to me

The Book of Chuang Tzu - so this is a chinese classic, written in the 4th century. goodrreads claims 'Where the Tao Te Ching is distant and proverbial in style, the Chuang Tze buzzes with life and with insights, often with considerable humour behind them." and if that's true I would love to read it

The Activist's Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for a Modern Revolution - I have no way to know how good this book is but the concept definitely interests me. it reminds me of an article about taoism's relationship to anarchism I read years ago. the summary makes me a little nervous tho

I've already read all of austen and the brontes I've wanted to, I read les mis, no interest in little women, I hate oscar wilde on a personal level, I struggle a lot with surrealism so I'm sticking to more conventional structures, I don't have a lot of interest in white 20th-century americana, I consider ishiguro's books to be modern classics with beautiful writing but they make me too sad, hmm why the fuck is call be by your name on this list...I'm interested in Taoism in novels but I haven't found a lot that offer that besides the danmei I've already read (ha) but it sounds like it will be a definite theme in JTTW. another reason to get an annotated copy. all the books I'm finding look like they're written by white academics anyway. I mean there's THE Tao Te Ching but I definitely need that one annotated and I think it would be difficult for me to focus on since it sounds a little dry.

I do want to get into historical texts like jttw it's just a question of how much I'd understand which is why an annotated physical copy is probably the way to go with something like that. like I saw an excerpt of the tale of genji and I was completely lost

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Nostos

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer and @skyrim-forever tyty friends

I am tagging @thana-topsy @greyborn2 @gilgamish @mareenavee

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (blood and violence, mushy stuff [kissin' not viscera]) Category: M/F Genre(s): Romance Main characters/Pairing: Borgakh the Steel Heart, Khemor gro-Skaven (Male orc LDB)

Summary: Khemor gro-Skaven thought that after he defeated Alduin, he would not have to worry about anything more dangerous than a quill knife for the rest of his existence. But when the jarl of the Pale asks him to investigate the destruction of the Hall of the Vigilants, it sets off a chain of events that ultimately leads him to wash up at the feet of Borgakh the Steel-Heart of Mor Khazgur. But what can a crippled conjuration mage-scholar half again her age possibly offer to a future Shield-Wife?

Previous Nostos snippets posted on Tumblr are available under the story tag, here.

------------

The road split up ahead, with one branch climbing to the city gates, and the other descending to the docks. Solitude harbor had once been described to Khemor as filled with lights at night, with ships arriving and leaving from the great East Empire Company Warehouse at all hours, bound for far off ports. With the expulsion of the Legion and all agents of the Empire from Skyrim, the warehouse stood empty, and instead of the massive galleons a few Nordic longboats and fishing vessels were moored in the waters below, dwarfed by the infrastructure intended for much larger trade.

If all goes as planned, the harbor should be seeing activity again soon. Khemor spared a thought for Ulfric. At least he had been able to lay a good foundation for the trade negotiations currently taking place between House Redoran and the Throne of Ysgramor.

Long shadows stretched in front of them, and Khemor spared the magicka for a candlelight spell as they climbed towards the city.

The scars of war were still visible: new paving stones where old ones had been dislodged or destroyed by siege engines, new rock in the ramparts that stood stark and white against the mossy green of old masonry, and half-torn down barricades now repurposed into makeshift guard shelters. On the walls bright blue and silver banners with the snarling bear of Ulfric Stormcloak fluttered in the sea breeze, revealing the burnt remnants of the crimson banners beneath them only when a particularly stiff gust moved them aside.

Two soldiers stood at attention before the gatehouse: one in the red surcoat of Solitude and the other in Stormcloak colors. As they approached, the man in blue stepped forward and saluted. “Dragonborn! It’s an honor.”

Khemor nodded in acknowledgement. Two of the figures seated around the brazier against the wall stood, and Khemor’s light illuminated Calder’s face as he approached. Next to him was another of Ulfric’s soldiers, this one in the regalia of an officer. Gregor dismounted, and he helped Khemor from Blue’s saddle as Calder took her reins. Khemor could hear Borgakh’s boots hit the paving stones behind them.

“Dragonborn, your housecarl arrived at the Blue Palace while I was giving a report to Jarl Bryling; I thought I should greet you personally.” With his bearskin hood thrown back, the man’s piercing blue eyes and short, blond braids stood out in the gloom. Khemor recognized him from among the throng at Whiterun, one of many hopeful young faces from Galmar’s squad staring up at him in awe as he stood next to Ulfric before the battle commenced.

“Commander Ralof,” Khemor clasped the man’s arm firmly. “I thank you for your welcome.”

Ralof’s smile grew wider and Khemor was thankful his memory had supplied the man’s name.

“I’d like to extend the hospitality of the Stormcloak detachment here in Solitude as well, Dragonborn. We have quarters available for you and your retinue in Castle Dour.”

“The inn would require three flights of stairs, likewise the Blue Palace,” Calder murmured next to him. “It is a bit of a walk from the gate.”

[shirefantasies]

If mashups are still available, I'd love love love if you could write one for me (never done this before)! The Hobbit is my favourite so preferably a (male) character from there if that would be ok!

I'm from Scandinavia and I love anything to do with Norse Mythology and going on hikes in the woods to act out adventures of my own creation. I am naturally very curious and love to go in-depth to study different topics, such as the natural sciences and different mythologies. I am quite short at 164 cm with blue eyes and blonde hair. Slightly on the curvier side. Thank you so so much I'd really appreciate it! <3 <3 <3

That is ok indeed as I match you with…

Óin!

(Warning: minor injury/blood mentions, hints at misogyny from unseen characters, minor alcohol/drinking references)

Maybe he isn’t the most conventional of the dwarves, but hear a silly old narrator out…

Your search for new species of plant has led you deep into the woods, deeper than they have yet undertaken. Success, though, has colored your journey, your prior experiment with the fertilizers of your crafting proving quite telling. Ducking past a very low-hanging branch that almost cuts a scar across your cheek, you press on, spurred by victory. The pursuit of science, after all, is the noble calling that moves you to painless battle with the forces set forth so many years before by the Valar, or in the eyes of your people quite possibly a different pantheon altogether. Even if none of it was true, they had been your favorite stories for years.

A world crafted from a corpse, now home to such life. Earth as flesh, seas blood, clouds brains of all things- dark, perhaps, but infinitely captivating. Or perhaps a song as the people in this land say, discordant notes sowing the very nature of sin and chaos as if as invisible waves in the air.

Such are your thoughts when your foot is roughly yanked, momentum pitching your body forward as a nasty loop of tree branch holds your lower appendage in place. More roots await when you fall, cutting and scraping various exposed areas of your skin. Pain arcs up your leg when you rise and try to return weight to the foot that got caught. Your ankle is sprained. You barely know where you are. Blood trickles from several smaller wounds, this blood no great sea, only drops upon dirt shed in solitude.

A long walk lies ahead of you. Sighing and biting back pained tears, you limp as best you can in the direction you’d come. You aren't certain how long you even have been walking for when you hear the voice, a bit gruff in nature but soft in tone and volume, pleasantly accented and reassuring despite its strangeness. "You're hurt," it says simply, and as you turn around- no, swivel at the hips, more like, your weight fighting a shift without a thought- it reveals a dwarf. His beard is pleasantly symmetrical, satisfying your eyes with its gravity-defying braids. Not a hint of malice shines in his dark brown eyes, only concern. "I come out this way to collect herbs, but I'll confess it isn't often I see another soul. Please, let a healer do his job." Exhaustion deep in your bones already, you simply nod.

Oin, as you find the dwarf's name is, is more than just a healer, at least in your eyes; his knowledge of nature and its properties are fascinating even if he is just rambling a bit about each thing he applies to your ankle, touch gentle as a feather despite the strength and girth of his hands. He knows exactly what everything he applies to you does and why. “‘N what were you doin’ out here anyway? I can see it- you’ve a good head on your shoulders. A lass like you has got a reason.”

He sees you. At least moreso than plenty of others you have run across, the ones who dub you too fair for your pursuits or reduce the way you track the stars to a pretty fancy of lights. Dwarves, you forget, prize women with a depth and respect that has yet to shine upon some of these lands. Your savior sees you as an equal even in your infirm, and thus you have no qualms explaining your experiment with the soil and the other which required the accursed herbs you twisted up your ankle over. You have tracked the world's revolutions and he has learned how to save mothers and babies from dangerous deliveries. Written many a medical record that piques your love of delving into knowledge enough that you don't just allow Oin to walk you back to society, you come home with him and spend the night in a lovely drown of parchment...and maybe a stiff drink, too! "It'll help with your pain, after all," he adds with a wink.

Perhaps you prefer the company of dwarves, or perhaps drink and offers of knowledge are far too seductive to pass up, but as you make for Oin's doorstep you feel an aching in your heart that your meeting was fate, and certainly not your last. Oin, you suspect, feels the same, shyly fiddling with his fingers as his gaze darts between the threshold and you. "'m glad I found you." "As am I," you reply, "for how else would I have learned someone so special was tucked away so close to my own home? Are you certain you want to listen to me drone on about old myths for hours?" "If it'll get you to come back here," Oin says, "Aye. Again and again." The warmth of your imbibing, and quite definitely something else, rushes through your veins as you lean to close the gap between you two, inhibitions burned down. Perhaps a part of you was tired of being so methodical, relying on long processes and choreographed steps. And judging by the wide, spellbound smile on Oin's face, your rescuer is taken by the same instant connection you thought only happened in old stories.

By the time his hearth is yours, your shelves of healing and botany and the mischief of old gods alike a complete blend of you both, the same way strands of your golden hair are united in the braid Oin gave you. Your healer husband dotes on you more than you ever imagined, dubbing you more beautiful than Freyja and worshiping your curves every chance he gets. Beyond your body, the way the sky shines in the blue of your eyes, he loves your understanding, having another soul move in perfect tandem with his and sit with him in the haze of fascination. A companion at his side for even the smallest tasks of watering the garden or washing one's hair and yet someone who poses the most difficult questions and waits with such patience if her words are not heard the first time. Perhaps he healed you long ago setting your ankle back right, but you, dear, healed him just as much.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Penance

Day 6 for @manweweek

Prompts: Fallen | Storm

Rating: E

Pairing: Dark! Manwë/Ulmo for MoonLord

Themes: Dead Dove | Smut   

Warnings: Dubious consent | Power imbalance/Power dynamics | Oral sex | Manipulation

Wordcount: 1.4k words

Summary: Ulmo has to make penance after going against the edict to not interfere in the affairs of Middle-Earth.

Minors DNI | 18+

This is also available on AO3

“You were all commanded to keep away from the exiled Children and the Edain, and you meddled still.” Manwë was wroth. He made the journey to Ulmonan, the great palace of the Lord of Waters, after a troubling message was carried to him by the wind. “Pray tell me why you aided the elves of Gondolin in their battles.”

“I was moved to do so, my lord.” Ulmo kneeled before his lord, his head bowed. “It felt wrong to leave the Children with no hope.”

The Vala of the seas and the rivers and all the waters that flowed in the world appeared to both Finrod and his kinsman, Turgon, in a dream, urging them to prepare great strongholds in the wars against Morgoth. Then he made himself known to Tuor, a son of the Edain, no less, and counseled him to call on Turgon as his messenger. However, those were not the only reasons why his lord was vexed with him. Ulmo did far more than he ought to; he aided Ecthelion in slaying Gothmog by moving the very waters he commanded and quenching the unholy flames that wreathed the Balrog who battled the elf.

And I was not the only being who involved themselves in the affairs of the exiles. “And while I understand your anger,” Ulmo continued, respectfully as always, “I do not understand why it is only I who is being taken to task. Was it not you, my lord, who aided Findecáno in his quest to free Nelyafinwë from his torment?”

“That was different,” the king scoffed with a dismissive wave of the hand. “For Ilúvatar himself urged me to do so. Did he do the same for you?”

Ah, but the creator did not, much to Ulmo’s sudden distress. Eru neither counseled nor moved him to act the way he did; Ulmo acted on his own accord. And Ulmo had little choice but to admit this folly to his king.

“He did not, my lord,” he confessed, paying no mind to the corral floor chafing against his knees. He was a being of pure spirit, and the pains afflicting his earthly vessel meant little to him. “But I am willing to do whatever I must to show that I will never act against the will of my king again.”

“Of course, you will not act against my will again,” returned Manwë, who regarded him keenly. He loved Ulmo dearly and with a longing so fierce that, at times, it felt like an unseen hand had reached in to constrict his very spirit. Nevertheless, he knew nothing fruitful would come out of such a longing. His friend had no desire for love or companionship. He rarely came to land, preferring the waters of the world and the solitude of his own palace. But the sight of him now, humble and contrite, willing to do anything to prove himself worthy of Manwë’s favor, led to the planting of a strange and dark seed in the Elder King’s heart. “And of course, you must make penance for such acts, yes?”

“Of course, my lord.” Ulmo dared to raise his head. He found his king looking intensely back at him, his otherwise bright eyes dark, and he liked it not. “Pray how can I make penance?”

Seize this moment, a voice within said. Seize it and satisfy your longing however you wish. He will obey you. You are his king, after all. 

Yes, the king decided. Yes. I will seize this moment, for another such as this may never present itself again.

It was the first time that Manwë, king of Arda, fell to the dark imaginings of his baser urges, and it was not going to be the last. He walked past Ulmo and climbed up the steps to his friend's oft-favored pearl and shell throne. 

“You look so pretty on your knees,” Manwë observed, making himself comfortable on a velvet cushion. “Come up here and settle on your knees once again, my lord Ulmo, so I can see you better.”

Ulmo let out a shaky breath, uncertain of what his lord had in store for him. He obeyed anyway, rising and climbing each step slowly, as if he were having to force his way through water thick with too much sand. Manwë let out an impatient sound, but he held his peace, not saying a word until Ulmo had settled himself before his spread legs.

“Closer, my friend,” he lilted, his words like honey. Ulmo was still too far away for his taste. “Come closer. There. Much better.”

His fellow Vala gave him a measured look. “What must I do now, my lord?”

“Please me.” Manwë leaned down and caressed Ulmo’s deep, sea-green hair, his cool cheek. The dark seed that had taken root within him grew and demanded to be fed when he breathed in the salt lingering on Ulmo’s skin. “Undo my sash and take all of me into your mouth. Go on.”

Ulmo opened his mouth to protest. This was too much. What his king asked of him was too much. Manwë could see it in his eyes. His own darkened, and the air whipped into a frenzy all around them, like a mighty storm was brewing within Ulmonan itself.

“Deny me, Ulmo,” Manwë interjected before he could speak, “and you will find yourself suffering the fate my brother once had to endure. It is what you rightfully deserve for your transgressions. Do you understand this?”

Ulmo did not have to be told any more. He was witness to Melkor’s confinement in Lumbi, that dark and lonely place deep within the Halls of Mandos. If he refused, he would be cut off from the sea, from its song and its creatures, and from all that he loved. The notion was more than he could bear.

“I understand, my lord,” he acquiesced with a tremulous sigh. “And I confess that I do not care for such a fate. I will do as you say.”

Manwë closed his eyes and sank into his seat, pleased. Ulmo, after some hesitation, loosened his king’s robes with trembling hands and freed his heavy erection. When he wrapped his hand around him, he shut his own eyes and dipped his head. 

His king moaned faintly, nearly coming apart when he found himself being taken into the welcomed heat of his reluctant companion’s mouth. Ulmo’s inexperience when it came to the pleasures of the flesh did little to dampen the raw lust already surging through his lord. It inflamed him instead. He did things he did not even know of with his lips, his tongue. They were so light and delicate that the king could barely feel them. And they were so wicked at the same time, whipping the king’s lust into a frenzied pitch—the kind he had never experienced before. Ulmo dared to open his eyes. Manwë looked fever-struck, his mouth slightly parted in a silent moan. Unable to help himself, the king buried his hands in Ulmo's thick hair, tugging at it just hard enough, and began thrusting lightly.

Too much! Lamented Ulmo. Tis too much! And yet, there was little he could do. Manwë was his lord and master; he could not act against him. It was not in his nature to do so, and if he somehow succeeded, his actions could bring about a fate worse than confinement in Lumbi. He pleasured his king as best he could, taking him over the precipice with the warmth of his hand and the tightness of his lips.

"Perfect," whispered the king, when he trembled and trembled and emptied himself of his spend. He released his grip on Ulmo’s hair, brushing his hands over it instead, almost in affection.

If only I had thought of this before! Manwë was still glad, for Ulmo's transgressions revealed to him a way to feed and satisfy his longing. The Lord of Waters was his to command now, and he was far from done with him.

“Now finish it all up," he then commanded feverishly. "Go on.”

Ulmo obeyed yet again, taking in the bitterness of his king’s seed without a word of complaint. He barely avoided wrinkling his face in distaste, and when he moved to rest more comfortably on his knees, he glanced up at his king and found him looking back with a satisfied smile.

Was he truly satisfied? Ulmo could not tell. The king extended his hand, and he, not knowing what else to do, accepted it. Manwë helped him rise to his feet, his eyes never leaving him, and said, “This will do for the moment. However, I feel more needs to be done in the matter concerning your admonishment. Set my robes to rights, my lord, and direct me to your chambers. I intend to stay here for a while.”

[harmonyverendez]

A turning point ~ Rise / Fall of the school for good and Evil.

Summary: After taking Rhian's Rejection Rafal seeks out his inner feelings, but thing's aren't what they seem.

~

Rafal watched his brother from a distance. His brother just got heartbroken by his lover and it bothered his soul to let his brother suffer alone. Rhian looked over at him and for a slight second his lip quiver.

Rafal didn't understand it but his hands were out and open for his brother.

“ Come here babyboy” he cooed.

Rhian's gaze met Rafal's, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes. Shock, disbelief, and a flicker of hope were evident. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he considered the unthinkable - accepting comfort from his brother, the embodiment of evil. But pride, a long-standing armor, held strong.

He turned away, his voice barely a whisper, "Don't."

The single word hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he had briefly exposed.

Rafal's outstretched hand froze mid-air, a stark contrast to the warmth in his eyes only moments ago. Disappointment washed over him, a wave crashing against the fortress he had built around his heart. He had bared a vulnerability he hadn't known existed, only to be met with rejection.

A flicker of anger ignited within him, but it was quickly extinguished. Instead, a cold resolve took its place. He lowered his hand, his expression once more the mask of calculated indifference.

"As you wish," he said, his voice low and controlled.

With a final, lingering glance at his brother, he turned and walked away, leaving Rhian alone with his shattered heart and the echoes of a moment that could have changed everything.

Alone in the shadows, Rafal wrestled with the aftermath of his failed attempt at compassion. A part of him was relieved; vulnerability was a weakness, a chink in the armor he had meticulously constructed. Yet, another part of him ached with a profound sense of loss.

He had glimpsed a side of himself he had long suppressed - a capacity for empathy, for love, even. But Rhian's rejection had served as a harsh reminder of the chasm between them. The brother he had once shared a womb with was now a distant star, unreachable and unattainable.

As the night deepened, Rafal found himself grappling with a question he had never considered before: Was the path he had chosen truly the only one available to him? Or was there a possibility, however remote, of a different destiny?

The weight of Rhian's rejection pressed down on Rafal like an unseen force. It was a wound to his pride, but more importantly, it was a wound to his soul. He had dared to hope, to reach out a hand across the abyss that separated them, only to be met with a resounding echo of their differences.

The path he had chosen, once clear and defined, now seemed shrouded in doubt. Was power, the manipulation of others, truly the fulfillment he sought? Or was there a deeper longing within him, a yearning for connection, for love?

Questions gnawed at him as he paced his chambers. Could he reconcile the monster he had become with the fragile flicker of empathy he had discovered? Or was the darkness too deeply ingrained to allow for redemption?.

The weight of the world seemed to press down on Rafal's shoulders. The rejection had ignited a fire within him, a destructive force that threatened to consume everything in its path. He had always been in control, the master puppeteer pulling the strings of destiny. But now, he felt as if the strings had been severed, leaving him adrift in a chaotic sea.

The lines between good and evil, once so clearly defined, had blurred. He was no longer certain of his purpose, his role in the grand scheme of things. A part of him yearned for redemption, for a chance to prove that he was more than the villain he was perceived to be. Yet, another part, the part that had survived countless betrayals, warned him against such folly.

Rhian retreated into himself, a fortress of solitude. The vulnerability he had briefly exposed had left him feeling raw and exposed. He had rejected Rafal's offer of comfort, a decision born of pride and fear. But now, as the reality of his actions settled in, he was haunted by doubt.

Perhaps he had been too hasty, too proud. Maybe Rafal's gesture had been genuine, a rare moment of vulnerability in a man cloaked in darkness. The thought was terrifying, for it challenged everything Rhian believed about his brother.

He was consumed by a sense of isolation, a feeling of being trapped in a world of gray, where lines between good and evil were no longer clear. He longed for the simplicity of black and white, a world where choices were easy and consequences predictable. But the truth was, life, like the human heart, was a complex tapestry of shades and hues.

Across the room, the Storian rose high, its tip like an eye as a soft radiant glow cast around the room. The color turned from red to gold, then finally white before fading away, leaving nothing but silence.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

L’histoire secrète de la mer - Masterlist

Hi! Welcome to the Fili POV of my Kili fic 'To the Shadows that Cry Witch'! This is one of my bigger fic projects, so I hope you love it just as much as I do! It's a bit long winded, so I'll try to make it worth the read! Enjoy!

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls from Earth ended up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

So uhhhhh.. magic’s real. Middle earth’s real. Shit goes down. Bon appetite.

Tags: Fíli x oc/reader - Kíli x oc (POV can be found HERE) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - SUPER slow burn - crack

Warnings: Violence, swearing, graphic descriptions of injuries, character death (anything else I will add)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Soon available on Wattpad and AO3

Go back to Tolkien Masterlist

L’histoire secrète de la mer

Chapters will now be posted monthly between 5-10pm (UK time)!!

Purple text - release dates

Green text - Posted

Extras:

Behind the scenes notes (may or may not post)

Headcanons - Fíli x oc (to be written)

Headcanons - Kíli x oc (to be written)

Playlist - Part 1 (coming soon!)

L’histoire secrète de la mer - Soundtrack Playlist (coming soon!)

The Hobbit - Before it all began

Part 1 - The Journey to Middle Earth:

Prologue

Chapter I - The Ocean has its silent caves,

Chapter II - Deep, quiet, and alone;

Chapter III - Though there be fury on the waves,

Chapter IV - Beneath them there is none.

Chapter V - The awful spirits of the deep

Chapter VI - Hold their communion there;

Chapter VII - And there are those for whome we weep,

Chapter VIII - The young, the bright, the fair.

Chapter IX - Calmly the wearied seamen rest

Chapter X - Beneath their own blue sea.

Part 2 - Settling into the Shire:

Chapter XI - The ocean solitudes are blest,

Chapter XII - For there is purity.

Chapter XIII - The earth has guilt, the earth has care,

Chapter XIV - Unquiet are its graves;

Chapter XV - But peaceful sleep is ever there,

Chapter XVI - Beneath the dark blue waves.

Chapter XVII - N.H

Chapter XVIII - Oh, ocean child

Chapter XIX - Listen to me,

Chapter XX - Wherever the waves carry you,

The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey

Part 3 -

Chapter XXI - They know your beating heart is blue.

Chapter XXII - You are their home, give them one too;

Chapter XXIII - Embrace them, their wilderness is part of you.

Chapter XXIV - W.W

(To be continued...)

Enjoy! <3

[pridepoisoned]

@cosmacy (for birdy!!) - [starter call/writing warm-up / accepting.]

Deep within the Floaroman meadows, ERIS EVANS kneels among the beautiful blossoms in a sprawling sea of color and solitude. Her heart is breaking.

Her hands have done awful things: launched ruthless experiments, closed around the throats of foes, created countless twisted devices and torturous poisons...but now they are exceedingly gentle, cradling her sick Golbat, Mirri, close to her chest. Shhh...

Mirri, alongside her Skuntank, Jeleva, was one of Eris's first Pokemon. In a sickeningly random accident, the free-spirited Golbat fell victim to a rogue chemical explosion in one of Team Galactic's underground labs, leaving her debilitated and chronically ill. While maintaining a cold and ruthless exterior, the former commander had tried everything to save one of the few Pokemon she cared deeply for. She sought help in all regions, even visiting the seedy underground labs in Orre, but nothing helped. Even after shedding her Galactic identity and reemerging as a Devon Corporation icon, Eris never stopped looking for a cure. To this day, she's still trying to locate remedies in secret with all the resources at her disposal, to no avail.

It's a beautiful morning. For once, Mirri seems at peace, crooked wings spread across flower petals, only racked by the occasional cough. Maybe Eris deserves this. Perhaps this is her ultimate price to pay: her Golbat nearly brought to death's door within the same corrupt labs that she still thrived in to this day. Eris can count the number of times that she's cried on one hand, but now new tears glisten on her face. It's okay. She can be weak here, surrounding by nothing, back home in a region that no longer recognizes her identity.

Someone, please help her. Please help my Mirri.

[dennydraws]

When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy. Then send to the last ten people in your notification anonymously. You never know who might benefit from spreading positivity!

A wholesome Anon! Thank you!

Art stores! Okay that may be a bit cliche for an artist but just going into any art store and walking through all the displays fills me with so much creative spark like "Ooh, I could use this or that to create something!" Of course that doesn't end well with my wallet hehe xD; I often joke that when stressed I need to go out and touch paper in the art stores lol Need instant pick me up? Just go to an art store! Curious what ideal date will be for me? Bring me to an art store. The answer is always - the art store.

Music, sketchbook, solitude Okay this feels like 3 things but it is the combination of them that does the magic! I need alone time to unwind and be with myself and my art - not online or available and if I don't get enough of that I get super cranky. Lately I just close every messenger possible, mute my phone, or right out turn the internet off, cause at this day and age it's nearly impossible to have a moment of peace regardless of what status you put.

The Sea! I'm fortunate to live by the sea and I love it so much. I love staring at it, I love swimming, I love water, I love sea shells, I love pirates, I love sea adventure stories - anything and all sea related sparks joy! Probably good place to mention that I get easily sea sick xD;; which absolutely does not spark joy!

Switch, soft blanket, warm coffee Okay again it's three things but it's the combination! Going out and being social is good and all but have you ever snuggled in a cozy couch wrapped yourself in the softest blanket, booted a favorite game and sipped the creamiest coffee? Pure bliss... You all are going to some gathering? Good for you. Now let me play Octopath 2 in peace lol

Walking home from work at dusk Okay this is also super specific xD; I love walking and I'm fortunate that my city is fairly green. I love zoning out during my walk to work and back. On mornings I get this refreshing movement, some good podcast but it's on my way back that does the magic to me. I love the air at dusk, everyone closing stores and heading home, the sun has bathed everything in golden hues, the farmers markets smell of any and all foods as everyone is preparing to close for the day - everyone is going home and I too am going home. Something about this time just fills me with wholesomeness.

[mydayouting]

Nandi Hills

Basic Info: Among the popular weekend getaways from Bangalore, Nandi Hills, also called Nandidurga, stands out. With an altitude of 1,478 meters above sea level, the hill station offers this mix of historical significance, natural beauty, adventure activities, misty mornings, and panoramic views-a refreshment for nature lovers and adventure enthusiasts.

District: Bangalore

Location Type: Bangalore district in the state of Karnataka, India

Best Time To Visit: Post-Monsoon Season

A Brief Overview

Nandi Hills is a place that was once the summer retreat of Tipu Sultan and still reflects his influence. The breathtaking vistas of surrounding landscapes enhance the beauty of this hill station. The area takes its name from the famous Nandi Bull who is considered as the mount of Lord Shiva, the region is full of ancient temples and forts. The climate here is cooler than the vibrant city life and hence well favored among tourists seeking some solitude. More so, this place with ample richness of greenery and rolling hills in the pleasurable climate has transformed it into one of the most sought after spots for photographers and nature lovers.

Timings and Entry Fees

Timings: Nandi Hills opens at 6:00 AM, and the closing time is at 10:00 PM. It is advised that one visits here early in the morning to see the brilliant sunrise.

Entry Fee: INR 20 per person. The vehicle parking charges are as followed ranging from the bike one which is around INR 30 to an INR 60 for cars.

Best Time to Visit: Nandi Hills is in the post-monsoon season, that is from the months of September to February, when the hill station will be covered in mist, but the greenery is at its peak.

How to Reach Nandi Hills

The roads connecting Nandi Hills from Bangalore are good. Thus, it is accessible either by cab or even driving. Buses are available from Bangalore too. However, public transport in terms of buses is less frequent compared to private transport.

By Car or Bike: Drive up to Nandi Hills is an experience in itself as with roads winding up with sceneries that need to be glanced upon. The car or bike drive from Bangalore should take roughly about 1.5 to 2 hours.

By Train: The nearest railway station is Chikkaballapur, a distance of about 10 km from Nandi Hills.

By Bus: Buses are available from the Majestic bus stand in Bangalore to Chikkaballapur, from where visitors can hire local transport for Nandi Hills.

Key Attractions at Nandi Hills

Tipu's Drop:

The southern end of Nandi Hills is known for Tipu's Drop, the steep cliff offering views of the plains around. According to legend, people were actually pushed off from this cliff during Tipu Sultan's rule. The panoramic view from here, specially around sunrise, is terrific.

Bhoga Nandeeshwara Temple:

Situated at the foot of the hills, this ancient temple dates back to 6th century A.D. and is dedicated to Lord Shiva, thereby forming one of the oldest temples of Karnataka. The temple architecture is a fine example of Dravidian style and must visit for history enthusiasts.

Tipu Sultan's Summer Palace:

This is a palace that was the summer place of the inspirational Tipu Sultan, but is now in ruins. The fort has remnants of the historical importance of the region.

Amrita Sarovar:

It is also called the Lake of Nectar. It is a perennial lake that is in turn a source of water for the local flora and fauna. Lush greenery surrounds the lake, and so it is an ideal place to stroll or sit in silent contemplation.

Brahmashram:

This is a natural cave located on Nandi Hills, which is said to have been the meditation ground of Sage Ramakrishna Paramhansa. The cave offers a serene atmosphere for meditation and for the soul seekers as well.

Paragliding and Trekking:

Nandi Hills is also a happy hunting ground for adventure lovers. The paragliding enthusiasts come here to experience flying amidst the clouds. There are several trekking routes offered by the nearby hills and trekkers, which can enjoy the thrilling experience.

Flora and Fauna

The hills offer rich flora and fauna, with a cool climate and thick forest attracting a large number of bird species to the area. So, you are likely to see some rare species like the Malabar whistling thrush, Nilgiri wood pigeon, and even the peregrine falcon. The region has high biodiversity comprising many species of monkeys and snakes.

Restrictions and Guidelines

While Nandi Hills is an ideal spot for a peaceful getaway, there are a few restrictions and guidelines that visitors should keep in mind:

Plastic Ban:

Nandi Hills has a strict ban on single-use plastics. Visitors are encouraged to carry reusable bottles and bags to help preserve the natural beauty of the region.

Timings:

The hill station closes by 10:00 PM, so overnight stays are not permitted unless you have a booking at one of the guest houses near the hills.

Monsoon Restrictions:

During the monsoon season, some trails and paths might be closed due to landslides or heavy rainfall. It’s advisable to check the weather forecast before planning a visit during this time.

Safety at Tipu’s Drop:

Given its steep drop, visitors are advised to exercise caution when visiting Tipu’s Drop, especially during the rainy season when the rocks can become slippery.

Parking and Traffic:

Nandi Hills can get quite crowded on weekends, especially early mornings. It’s best to arrive early to avoid traffic jams and ensure a parking spot.

Accommodation Options

There is not much accommodation available at the top, but there are some numbers of hotels, guest houses, and homestays. Suggee Resort and Mount Palazzo Resort are some of the best places for people who want high-class stays.

Why Nandi Hill is Special?

This hill station boasts a cool climate, historical charm, and adventure activities that provide an ideal weekend getaway from Bangalore. From gazing into the beauty of Nandi Hills to taking off on a trekking adventure or discovering the history of Tipu Sultan's reign, Nandi Hills has it all. Situated within a short drive from Bangalore, this hill station boasts the ideal quality of serenity, adventure, and natural splendor, rendering it one of the must-visit locations for those out exploring Karnataka.

[poem-today]

A poem by John Peale Bishop

The Hours

In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning. —F. Scott Fitzgerald

I

All day, knowing you dead,  I have sat in this long-windowed room,  Looking upon the sea and, dismayed  By mortal sadness, thought without thought to resume  Those hours which you and I have known—  Hours when youth like an insurgent sun  Showered ambition on an aimless air,  Hours foreboding disillusion,  Hours which now there is none to share.  Since you are dead, I live them all alone.

II

All day, knowing you dead,  I have sat in this long-windowed room,  Looking upon the sea and, dismayed  By mortal sadness, thought without thought to resume  Those hours which you and I have known—  Hours when youth like an insurgent sun  Showered ambition on an aimless air,  Hours foreboding disillusion,  Hours which now there is none to share.  Since you are dead, I live them all alone.

III

I think of all you did  And all you might have done, before undone  By death, but for the undoing of despair.  No promise such as yours when like the spring  You came, colors of jonquils in your hair,  Inspired as the wind, when woods are bare  And every silence is about to sing.

None had such promise then, and none  Your scapegrace wit or your disarming grace;  For you were bold as was Danae’s son,  Conceived like Perseus in a dream of gold.  And there was none when you were young, not one,  So prompt in the reflecting shield to trace  The glittering aspect of a Gorgon age.

Despair no love, no fortune could assuage…  Was it a fault in your disastrous blood  That beat from no fortunate god,  The failure of all passion in mid-course?  You shrank from nothing as from solitude,  Lacking the still assurance, and pursued  Beyond the sad excitement by remorse.

Was it that having shaped your stare upon  The severed head of time, upheld and blind,  Upheld by the stained hair,  And seen the blood upon that sightless stare,  You looked and were made one  With the strained horror of those sightless eyes?  You looked, and were not turned to stone.

IV

You have outlasted the nocturnal terror,  The head hanging in the hanging mirror,  The hour haunted by a harrowing face.

Now you are drunk at last. And that disgrace  You sought in oblivious dives you have  At last, in the dissolution of the grave.

V

I have lived with you the hour of your humiliation.  I have seen you turn upon the others in the night  And of sad self-loathing  Concealing nothing  Heard you cry: I am lost. But you are lower!  And you had that right.  The damned do not so own to their damnation.

I have lived with you some hours of the night,  The late hour  When the lights lower,  The later hour  When the lights go out,

When the dissipation of the night is past,

Hour of the outcast and the outworn whore,  That is past three and not yet four—

When the old blackmailer waits beyond the door  And from the gutter with unpitying hands  Demands the same sad guiltiness as before,

The hour of utter destitution  When the soul knows the horror of its loss  And knows the world too poor  For restitution,

          Past three o’clock  And not yet four—            When not pity, pride,  Or being brave,  Fortune, friendship, forgetfulness of drudgery  Or of drug avails, for all has been tried,  And nothing avails to save  The soul from recognition of its night.

The hour of death is always four o’clock.  It is always four o’clock in the grave.

VI

Having heard the bare word that you had died,  All day I have lingered in this lofty room,  Locked in the light of sea and cloud,  And thought, at cost of sea-hours, to illume  The hours that you and I have known,  Hours death does not condemn, nor love condone.

And I have seen the sea-light set the tide  In salt succession toward the sullen shore  And while the waves lost on the losing sand  Seen shores receding and the sands succumb.

The waste retreats; glimmering shores retrieve  Unproportioned plunges; the dunes restore  Drowned confines to the disputed kingdom—  Desolate mastery, since the dark has come.

The dark has come. I cannot pluck you bays,  Though here the bay grows wild. For fugitive  As surpassed fame, the leaves this sea-wind frays.  Why should I promise what I cannot give?

I cannot animate with breath  Syllables in the open mouth of death.  Dark, dark. The shore here has a habit of light.  O dark! I leave you to oblivious night!

John Peale Bishop (1892-1944)