#isles of man

[oneinnocentprincess]

"I feel like you're making this more complicated than it is." She managed to tease back, catching on to what he was doing, she did smile at that. "You said you like my honesty with you and telling you what is all on my mind, that is what is on my mind." She stated simply, just poking to turn his words.

"I think you can handle more than two hours of my talking." Eleanor said confidently, because she was not going to put it past herself if she were to end up talking to him for that long. Especially tonight when there was not a wedding and sex to tire her out. "We'll see." She said with a small teasing shrug.

"Last night was very different." She stated the obvious. Now there was no hidden pressure for sex, she could simply breathe and not think or focus on that. She could just have conversations with him-- even if those were definitely going to be influenced by this book he's spoken so much of to her. "I plan to return some of those books, don't worry." Especially when he was able to provide recommendations to her on where to start.

Eleanor did accept his hand, pulling herself up but slightly pulling his hand down in the process, she got up and followed him. While she certainly did not feel unwelcome, she still felt like a stranger in his palace. The sudden shift in routines were so odd to her even if they were near the same of what she did at home. She wished they had gotten married in her kingdom. That way she could just focus on having a husband rather than also focus on a new kingdom and its culture.

She did enjoy this aspect of having a partner. She could manage on her own but it would have taken an extended amount of time, or she could have called for a handmaiden to assist who only would talk her head off. This was nice. "Thank you, Oscar." She mumbled once he was done loosening and unbuttoning the dress for her, it was still slightly odd for him to do this without all of the sexual tension in the air.

Eleanor changed into a long sleeved night gown, a fairly simple gown. She had ones that were more elaborate and more presentable, ones she was sure were given to her for the purpose of her husband to see, but she wanted to go simple for this evening. After changing she washed off her make up and brushed out her hair before pulling it into a braid.

She stepped into the room while stating, "Part of me feels more exposed tonight than last night." While obviously she had been as exposed one could get the evening before, now she was without the jewelry and make up-- even if she did likely sweat a lot of it off last evening. Her eyes went up to him before almost immediately darting towards his chest, before swiftly looking away. "That book you mentioned, it's in here?" Eleanor asked, trying to make small talk as she went to the bed, slowly sitting herself down, her body reminding her what had happened the previous night. There was some discomfort on her face, but she did not vocalize anything.

Oscar didn’t even try to hide his grin as she launched into her rapid series of clarifications, hands moving animatedly as if to ward off any misinterpretation. “So,” he said, counting on his fingers, “you want honesty, conversation, sleep, modesty, some light undressing—but only in the most practical sense—and then a strategic retreat to the bath chamber. Understood.” He looked deeply solemn for a beat before adding, “You are the most delightfully specific person I’ve ever been married to.”

He leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying the conversation more than most royal banquets. “You can talk to me as much as you like. I can sleep through council droning about tax reform—I promise your voice is far more welcome.” Then with a dramatic pause, he added, “Though if you go past two hours, I do reserve the right to pretend I’ve fainted from exhaustion. It’s in the marital fine print, I’m sure.”

When she asked about the breeches, Oscar let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, they cover my legs. I’m not about to scandalise you with bare ankles.” His eyes twinkled. “you already survived a full night pressed against me, but I'll respect your wishes" he replied, genuine with all his affection. Then with a slight tilt of his head, he added, “And, long sleeves or short, you’ll still be the most radiant thing in that bed. Especially once you surround yourself with half the palace library.”

As the last of their dinner was cleared away and the soft hum of the evening quieted, Oscar rose from his seat and offered Eleanor his hand. “Come on,” he said with a lightness that didn’t push. “Let’s call that our grand banquet for the night.”

He guided her back through the dim corridors of the palace toward their chambers, their steps slow and unhurried. Once inside, he gently turned her by the waist, his hands steady but unintrusive as he found the fastenings of her dress. “Just enough to give you a head start,” he murmured, loosening the ties and buttons with practiced care, careful not to pull or tug. “The rest is yours.”

With that, he stepped away, giving her the space she’d asked for. Oscar disappeared into the adjoining room, and when he returned a few minutes later, it was with the sleeves and weight of the day shed. He wore only his sleep breeches, the hearth casting a warm glow against his bare chest, and a wry little smile played at his lips.

[vintagecamping]

A hiker spends some time with The Old Man Of Storr

Scotland

1968

[goryhorroor]

“there are several reasons why the horror genre declined – in both quality and popularity – at the tail end of the 1930s & into the 40s. firstly, the narrative conventions became so well established that they appeared formulaic and predictable, especially when the same-old same-old monsters were put into rotation time and time again. then, political strife curtailed a lot of european filmmaking. thirdly, movies with supernatural, violent, science fiction or fantasy elements became a target for literal-minded censors, who were concerned that the masses might believe or, still worse, imitate the horrors they witnessed on the silver screen.”

[linipik]

[PART 4]

card acquired, everything's going according to the plan*

*The plan: Cheering Lance up no matter what

Love Letter💌 first | Part 3 |  PART 4 |  part 5 >

[isles-of-man]

There had been strange happenings as of late; different than the activity and much stranger than Iain would have expected. His charge; the slayer he had been sent to be in overseeing was more inquisitive of the past history of relationships between watcher and slayer that he knew of but kept her at a distance to discover. It was outdated but she was curious enough that he thought no harm in her knowing if she truly wanted to keep herself studied on the job she was made to perform for the council. It was his job to serve her for a place of training but this was never what he had in mind. She had already begun to be treated differently than the others before her.

At his insistence, she was able to be given a life outside of her duties as a slayer when she had been missed in her discovery as a potential. He entered her life not too many many months ago and began to teach her; to hone and keep her alive. She had excelled in her lessons since then. She had even prodded for more. And so, he took a few diaries from his collection with an advisement to keep her mind open to the writings inside. He had left her with that as she returned to her dwellings where he decided take to his own research for the evening.

As he sat at home he wondered if she would even be surprised by it all. The entries of watchers and slayers; becoming sexual partners and some long-term into a type of relationship. An old time where it was not uncommon for it but they were descriptive in that he’d find himself getting lost in it himself. It was not a surprise for him to even be affected the same; being tied to the job itself didn’t lend him much to survive any relationship of his own. He thought of his slayer and wondered if she thought of it after reading; if she found interest in him. She was attractive. He thought she was a beautiful and wouldn’t deny her that.

He may lived a life like a priest; without sexual gratification but he wasn’t without the sin of thinking of such things. At times he found himself thinking of her as she was the most constant woman in his life. Other times, seeking in images elsewhere when he was lonely. Of course, she never knew of that at all when he had hidden himself well to remain mannered in his own training. He sighed, looking at the clock at the shake of his head to get away from his daydreaming and messaged her for a training session at his home. Iain hoped that she had taken care of those diaries and returned them in similar condition as well.

@lemonadecabaret

[gcddcsscs]

kate heard all the beautiful words her husband was whispering to her. she chuckled and closed her eyes as she felt him fucking her deeper, like she was never fucked this way before. her whole body reacted, especially when he encouraged her to come. "fuck baby..." she cried out, feeling her walls clenching wildly around his cock.

her whole body was invaded by spasms as she pulsated her juices and gasped for air. she knew she was looking now like the sluttiest woman one could meet. she loved it. she loved showing to the world how her husband, despite his age, was fucking her like no other man would fuck her properly. he knew what he did, he knew every single part of her body that would make her cum instantly.

"jorah!" kate shouted, her arms barely able to carry the weight of her body. she slowly lowered her belly, almost touching the stone bench, and tried to gather more energy. she took a deep breath, knowing that he was about to fill her with his thick load of cum. "come on baby, i know you want this too.." she smiled, trying to turned her head and look at what he was going to do.

she loved his cock so dearly. she loved how she could make it stand tall and hard for her. she loved how jorah still had the energy of a twenty year old man whenever he fucked her. she loved to be his, loved to be his private whore. for him, she would become again the kate of the tavern. every single night.

"that's it, my stallion... breed your mare." she whispered, looking down at her breasts and crying out as her juices slowly rolled between her legs. she was a whole mess.

Jorah's breath caught at her words, the raw honesty of her desires stoking the fire already burning within him. Her confession about pleasuring herself in the mornings sent a bolt of pure lust through his body, and he made a mental note to remedy that particular situation immediately.

"My beautiful wife," he growled, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, more possessive. "You'll never have to wake alone and wanting again. I'll make sure of that."

He could feel her walls beginning to flutter around him, the telltale signs of her approaching climax making his own control waver. The sight of her magnificent breasts swaying with each powerful thrust, fuller and more sensitive than ever before, was nearly his undoing.

"That's it, love," he commanded, one hand sliding around to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple. "Let everyone hear how well your husband takes care of you. Let them know who you belong to."

Her body was responding so perfectly to his touch, every nerve ending heightened by her condition. He could feel her trembling beneath him, could hear the desperation creeping into her moans as she teetered on the edge of release.

"Come for me, Kate," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "Show me how much you love carrying my child, how much you want me to fill you with another."

[transport-methodology-101]

1975 Porsche: Do Our Racing Victories

Scare You?.

[madgod-of-kvatch]

I may just have missed it, since I came into the Oblivion side of TES so late, but I'm surprised not to have seen anyone talking about how much of Shivering Isles is...the right term would be "wish fulfillment," I think. For the Hero of Kvatch specifically.

Particularly, I'd like to look at the siege on Passwall. The town of Passwall isn't particularly large—bigger than Hale, but that's not saying much—but it's well-protected, with a strong perimeter wall and good defenses, with a guardian literally built to purpose. It's extremely important to the Shivering Isles as a whole. It's where some of the realm's most important work is done, most notably Relmyna's fleshsmithing, and it's an important place for the people of the realm because it's where everyone starts. The citizens of Passwall are decent people with their own issues and their own stories, some make good decisions and some don't. It's the first place the Hero of Kvatch sees what the Shivering Isles are capable of, and it sets the stage for the rest of the adventure. It's where anyone who wants to move forward in their own adventure proves themselves worthy to be a subject of the Madgod, whatever that means.

Passwall is a mirror of Kvatch, as the Hero never got to see it. Kvatch wasn't particularly large—bigger than Chorrol, but that's not saying much—but it was well-protected, with a strong perimeter wall and good defenses, with a guard regiment trained to purpose. It was also extremely important to Cyrodiil as a whole. It was where some of the nation's most important work was done, being the home of the Temple of Akatosh, and it was an important place for a lot of citizens in Tamriel because Akatosh is where the Empire started. The citizens of Kvatch were, and the handful left still are, decent people with their own issues and their own stories, some of which made good decisions and some of which didn't. It's the first place the Hero of Kvatch saw what the Oblivion Crisis was capable of, and set the stage for the rest of the adventure. It's where the Hero of Kvatch proved themselves worthy of protecting the last heir of the Empire, whatever that meant.

But here's the key difference: they reached Kvatch too late. By the time they got there, the Great Gate that ripped the city apart had served its purpose and been closed, leaving the city in ruins and the vast majority of its citizens dead. There was hope that there may have been some survivors left in the castle, but it was just hope, and it ended up being for nothing; everyone who wasn't in the temple was dead, and very few of the handful of guards would survive the ensuing struggle.

The hero of Kvatch was forced to push through alone, into the oldest, most defensible structure in the area, the castle, leaving the guard behind to hold off the horde while they attempted to find something that made those losses worth it, some hint of life left in the midst of the maelstrom—and they failed. The leader of Kvatch, Count Goldwine, was dead by the time the Hero found him. They'd never know exactly how he died or how many people died with him, and in the end they couldn't even retrieve his body, only a symbol of his office to bring to his last surviving guard.

The Hero couldn't even help to rebuild Kvatch, and the few citizens left would spend the rest of the story lamenting the deaths of their loved ones in a makeshift settlement a mile outside the home they loved so much.

In contrast, when Order lays siege to Passwall, the Hero is notified immediately. The city is ransacked and the citizens have disappeared by the time they get there—either having abandoned the town, been struck down, or turned traitor—but there's still a full regiment of Saints or Seducers left to push back Jyggalag's forces. And, most importantly, even if every single one of those defenders dies in the ensuing struggle, they'll come back. They're Sheogorath's personal dremora, it's impossible to lose any of them forever. They'll all be back, all it takes is some determination and patience on the Hero's part, and they'll get to see every one of them again.

The Hero of Kvatch pushes through alone, into the oldest, most defensible structure in the area, Xeddefen, without hope for survivors but for a chance to deactivate the Obelisk that's ripping the Fringe apart—and they find a survivor. Not just any survivor, either, but the leader of Passwall, Mayor Shelden, who tells the Hero exactly what happened, how he wound up here, what's happening. Instead of running away, he throws himself into the fray and helps the Hero fight off the forces of Order, knowing that at least one of the priests is a friend who betrayed him, because protecting his city is worth more than his life or his own feelings. The Hero of Kvatch personally deactivates the Obelisk, in the exact way they weren't able to close the Great Gate.

When the Greymarch ends, Passwall is restored to its former state. The people return to the homes they lost, the Hero of Kvatch has crafted them a new guardian to make sure this never happens again, and life goes on.

This happens over and over throughout the story of the Shivering Isles, including the very end: Martin was forced to give himself up forever, taking hold of a role and power he never wanted to protect people that didn't know him, losing himself to Akatosh and leaving his people without a leader. Jyggalag was at last able to return to himself, freed from a role and power he never wanted that forced him to rule over a sphere that would never understand him, finding himself once more and leaving the people he'd ruled over as Sheogorath with the Hero of Kvatch as their leader, someone who had already proven how far they would go to protect them.

I think the Shivering Isles presents the happiest ending the Hero of Kvatch could ever have. It's not a true do-over, not really, but it's as close as they could ever get—and this time they know exactly what to do to make sure things turn out right. What happier ending could a hero whose story is built on failure and death and sacrifice possibly want?

[isles-of-man]

Henry slowed his hips to a punishing crawl, letting every inch slide out of her, then in again, grinding deeply until Soren's toes curled at the contact. His palm smoothed up her back, pressing her into Oscar's chest while the other hand still tormented her breast. "You can wait," he said, lips brushing her ear, voice low and hypnotic. "We're not done with you." Oscar’s hand didn't relent, but he took her chin and forced her to meet his gaze; his eyes were as dark and sharp as obsidian.

"We're going to take our time," Oscar whispered, his thumb pressing a delicate circle into the corner of her mouth. "You’ll wait for us, Soren." Her lips parted in a silent plea but, obedient, she bit her trembling lip.

"Open your eyes. I want you to see us. I want you to remember this." He waited for her to obey, wanting her to feel the pressure as they took her to the edge and held her there. Oscar kissed her fiercely, swallowing every whimper; behind her. His hand, which had so easily gripped and toyed with her, now slid down to her belly, pressing her firmly against Oscar until she could hardly squirm between them.

“Don’t take your eyes off me,” Oscar murmured. “You’re ours. Every part of you, inside and out.” He owned the word with a lazy glide of his cock, a deft flick of his fingers. Henry chuckled, slow and grinding, as if in approval. Quickly, he sank his teeth into the back of her shoulder, muffling his own growl with her flesh.

As their bodies danced together this wave of peacefulness washed over Soren. She was free from the weight of concern about the store, or the eyes that might search for her. It felt like this is where she belonged. Despite how he fucked her hard, ravaged her, his moment of delicacy when he wiped her tears made her blush. She smiled lightly at him to let him know she was okay, that she could take it, she wanted this. As he pushed his hips into her, she gasped, lolling her head back, lidded eyes meeting Henry's gaze. Her supple throat, her collarbones and her chest, all exposed for them to taste, to lavish in.

When Henry drank from her pulsating throat she welcomed it with extraordinary delight, her hand crawling up the side of his head, entangling her fingers with tufts of his hair between her fingers. He must've tasted her vanilla body wash, since she used it so frequently. The bottle said it would leave her skin soft and huggable. Her thumb rubbed his jawline, and she lapped up his ear, playfully sucking on it, his jawbone, "I want you to fill me up," she managed out. Her voice was frail, and broken, but dripping with every ounce of her fiber, "I want you to stay in me, after you fill me, I'll keep you warm."

"Wait," she whined as Oscar touched her, but she relished in it. She rubbed against his hand feverishly, like a doe in heat desperate for more friction. Between her swollen clit and her nipple toyed with she felt overstimulated, enough where it started to hurt. She felt pushed to her limits, uncertain if she could endure much longer.

“Please,” She was panting now, her hand looping around behind her to grab Henry’s hair. How could they be so cruel? " I don’t know if I can wait,” it was coming too fast, the all too familiar rush blooming between her legs. At first it was small sparks of electricity, and when she was close her thighs always began to jitter, unable to stay still.

[freddieardley]

The Pinnacle, Storr - Scotland (Spot the man in the red coat)

Photographed by Freddie Ardley

freddieardley.com/prints

[isles-of-man]

@disapprove

inspired by this prompt: here

The music thumped in the background, an unrelenting beat that somehow mirrored the hammering in Giles’s chest. He’d spotted her the moment she stepped into the room. Allison. She looked different—her hair was shorter, her laughter freer—but still the same in the ways that mattered. Giles felt a pang in his chest as he watched her across the room, standing by the bar. She was locked in a conversation with someone he didn’t recognize, but it didn’t seem intimate. Still, it was her smile, the one he used to think belonged to him, that made his stomach twist.

Giles hadn’t seen her since they’d decided to go their separate ways six months ago. Decided. It sounded mutual, but it wasn’t, not really. Tonight, though, her certainty was clear. She looked radiant like she had moved on without looking back. And tonight, he was brought back together with the mutual friends they had invited them both in what he imagined was a play for amusement to see how they’d react knowing one out of two had moved on. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. 

Fueled by a cocktail of curiosity, jealousy, and some misplaced sense of duty to himself, Giles found his feet moving before he had fully decided. He wove through the crowd, pretending to acknowledge a few acquaintances on the way, though his focus was razor-sharp. He had enough time to watch the two; their interactions were so much more innocent than that he’d known her for. Her boyfriend, away in a crowd, had allowed him to talk privately with her. He leaned to her ear. 

“New boyfriend?.. he seems very green, doesn’t he - does he know what you like already? How you used to call me “Daddy,” he said, whispering quietly that only she heard him, pulling his head away to wave down the bartender for a drink and adding another for her. “Why don’t I buy you a drink for old times’ sake.” taking a seat beside her. “Maybe, I can meet the new boyfriend?” 

"I'll be nice, promise"

[gcddcsscs]

closed starter for @isles-of-man

the day was particularly hot and mary needed a break. she planted the shovel back in the earth and wiped her sweaty forehead, green hues watching the other workers as they all were there to finally pick the crops. it was the end of summer, time to gather everything and share with the other villagers. the young woman took a deep breath and decided to go drink water from the well.

as she approached it, mary heard a horse and saw a beautiful black stallion entering the village, mounted by a mysterious man. a handsome one, she could tell. her green hues looked at him, catching his deep blue eyes and her heart instantly skipped a bit. she immediately looked down at the water, not willing to look like a rude lady observing a visitor pass by.

"mary! we are done!" one of her friends said as they all carried the crops back in the barn. the woman sighed of relief and looked down at her dress. a filthy one, with such a light fabric that her breasts could easily be noticeable. she had no other dress to wear in the fields, especially with this particular heat. while all her friends returned home to their families, mary looked at her house and sighed. she was lonely, had no one to live with, no children nor parents.

slowly walking to the river, mary looked around herself and made sure that no one was here. slowly removing her dress, the woman gracefully stepped into the refreshing water of the river. she scrubbed her body, her hands gently caressing her breasts as she couldn't help but think about this mysterious man. she had promised to save herself for marriage, but as time passed she wondered: when will she marry?

her fingers gently caressed her lower stomach, allowing herself to feel the warmth of her cunt. she closed her eyes gently as she caressed herself for a few seconds in the water, until the bark of a dog made her gasp and immediately retrieve out of the water and put her dress back on. "what have i done..." she whispered, guilty of having improper thoughts. she had to go to church immediately.

her steps led her to the small church, her wet hair making her dress stickier to her skin. her nipples were pointing under the light fabric and before she entered the church, mary made sure to put on a cloak to cover herself. it was once she sat in the confessional that the woman sighed, her cheeks now all red as she whispered. "forgive me father, for i have sinned..."

[isles-of-man]

His eyes darkened with desire at her words. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. He pulled her closer, one hand sliding down to the small of her back. "Well then, I think we should start trying immediately, don't you?" He captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue teasing hers as his hands roamed her curves. Laura moaned softly, pressing herself against him. She could feel his arousal growing as he backed her up against the wall as he walked through the home and turned towards the kitchen where he lifted her onto the counter. 

"Let's make a baby," he growled, nipping at her neck. His fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse, pushing it off her shoulders and stared at the cool air on her skin, her nipples hardening beneath her bra. His hands slid down to her hips, opening her legs where her skirts drew up and put them at her waist before he pulled down her underwear off her. He knew they had the time, all he needed was to release his cock and give her the first of the seed he had to release inside her before dinner. 

“I love you, Lauren, I would love - “ he paused, nudging his nose to her. “to have you carry my child. How ever many you want” Of course, he too wanted to play. “But first, ask me - ask me properly,” he told her, cupping her cheek in his palm. 

When he said he wouldn’t mind having her covered in paint Laura laughed softly, “I’m sure than can be arranged. All it takes is one afternoon of painting with the kids.” Even if she knew how to avoid a mess maybe she would pay less attention for him. Laura was caught off guard when he asked of she’d thought of having her own, blushing and looking down at his hand to avoid looking at him. She shrugged at his observation, “I’m surrounded by toddlers and babies so it’s hard not to be.” She did have baby fever, having a small bundle of joy to call her own, being a mother. Especially when working with children was natural to her and even if she was raised to become a homemaker she did want to be a mother one day.

Laura leaned into his touch and hold, her home being right there in his arms. It was what she loved the most after a day of work: being in his arms surrounded by his love. Sighing into the kiss Laura hesitated a little to say it but being offered whatever she wanted Laura’s fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt, “I want a baby.” It was more of a desperate whine than a request.

[canisalbus]

My auntie keeps Golden Guernsey goats on our island, like many of our local unique breeds of livestock they nearly went extinct in the starving during ww2 occupation surviving by only one smuggled flock. They're super friendly and energetic and their colouration might be of interest :eyes:

Oh OH these are very pretty

[beezabub]

Please consider reblogging for further reach! I might give an explanation. Maybe

[transport-methodology-101]

1977 - Porsche 911S, Porsche Carrera Turbo, Porsche RSR Turbo.