#landsend

[skyecoaiart]

Desert Queen

[landsil]

A blast from the past

[canatokyo]

[ online store ]

[penofglen]

Journey’s End: A Tale of Rails, Cliffs, and Cornish Tales

Rails, cliffs and Cornish tales! #penofglen #glenwrites #gwr @gwrhelp #cornwall #book #books #train #sleeper #landsend #cliff #sea #penzance #holiday #easter #trip #vacation #gwml #readers #reading #writers #writing #booksworthreading #readerscommunity

[leesearlephotography]

Coastal Wedding Cornwall Sennen

A Magical Day at Land's End: Natasha and Tom's Wedding

What a glorious day it was for Natasha and Tom's wedding down at Land's End in Cornwall! The sun was beaming down, blessing the couple with perfect weather for their special day. As a creative wedding photographer in Cornwall, I knew this was going to be a day full of love, beauty, and unforgettable moments.

The stunning backdrop of Land's End provided a picturesque setting for Natasha and Tom's love story to unfold. With the vast expanse of the sea behind them, the happy couple exchanged vows, surrounded by their loved ones.

Being able to document this special day as their wedding photographer in Cornwall was a true honor. Natasha and Tom's love story is one for the books, and I am grateful to have been a part of capturing their magical day at Land's End.

If you're looking for a wedding photographer in Cornwall to capture your special day with creativity and a playful touch, don't hesitate to reach out. Your love story deserves to be told in a way that is as unique and beautiful as you are!

[therapardalis]

[Headcanon Meme from @thestorycontinues.]

[ ❄️ ] is there any special meaning behind your muse’s name? what is it? ------------

[Answering for her Main!Verse.]

Thera's had an assortment of names over the centuries, many of them only briefly and/or only on paper.

Her true given name is Therese, which may have come from the Old English or filtered over from Gaul. It was said to mean 'summer' which fit her as she was born at the beginning of that season (equivalent of June 6th). In due course it was shortened to become Thera, which although it was meant as simply a diminutive of her proper name had the meaning of 'untamed', 'wild', 'hunter' and, according to some sources, 'guardian'.

Her full birth name is Therese of Lands End, after the westernmost part of Cornwall where she was born. As time went on she shortened this down to 'Landsend', and went mostly by that for several centuries (when information traveled slowly, if at all, and names followed you rather than getting there first).

Another surname she used during the 1960s and 70s was 'D'Gaea', which pretty much explains itself.

Most of her aliases have leaned toward something to do with cats. Leading us to -

'Pardalis', a name she chose for herself sometime around the 1980s; it's the Latin taxonomy for the Ocelot (Felis pardalis).

(Quick note that 'D'Gaea' also led to 'D'Galen' in her Middle Earth verse!)

[sosuigeneris]

Not gonna stay at Soho Mumbai ever again. Taj Landsend baby, I’m so sorry I cheated on you. I’m going to come back to you and treat you right. Grass was clearly not greener on the other side.

The hand jet in the bathroom was leaking. The first day I stayed there, I thought the floor was still wet from being cleaned up. I didn’t realise that it was leaking until last night when I came back quite late from dinner with Kayra.

The second night at soho, my body was feasted on by mosquitos. I felt like a hippo in one of the African jungles (firstly, I had gorged on their whole tin of complimentary cookies, and second, i was now a sacrificial animal in my bed).

The food was not the best (Taj has a better selection), you can’t order anything like Uber eats (their equivalents) here (unlike Taj), their service was okok but not worth the money (Taj has similar rates and you feel like royalty).

I’m never going to come back and stay with you Soho!!!! Sayonaaaraaaaaa

- cherry 🍒

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a lady?? Hello?? 👁👄👁

This is my poly story set in the 17th century smuggling heyday of Cornwall that got way out of hand. It was supposed to be a sweet, short story with a selkie, a bucca (sea spirit), and a young woman, and it just... went berserk and turned into a 17k word story...

Here's the very much WIP opening of it though, and a much longer extract of the two male love interests...

___

In the cold blue light of a spring dawn, hours before the first cockerel on land had even thought of announcing the start of the day, a cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide and dropped anchor. In answer, a small, mismatched fleet of fishing boats set oar to water and moved out as one towards the waiting ship from Roscoff.

Between them, over the next few hours, the gathered men and women moved hundreds of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. This shipment of relatively small kegs were full of rich French cognac that would fetch a very pretty price, but along with it came tobacco and spiced tea, wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the weather out, and a few cases of other, smaller luxuries like lace.

Flaskers waited ashore to heave two of the four-gallon barrels up the clamber from sand to hilltop with a keg affixed to the front and back of one shoulder while women carried boxes of tobacco and other smuggled goods until the ship rode high in the water and the locals had scurried away like ants with their haul.

Fifteen miles away as the sun breached the horizon and cast the first rays of warmth across the hedgerows and pastures, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westward along potholed roads, carrying a nervous young woman to a new chapter of her life.

...

The storm had blasted away the muggy heat from the day before to leave a clear, fresh day and a blue sky. Just as she crested the clifftop at Rocky Point near an old stone cottage, and joined the path that ran the length of Cornwall from Landsend to Looe, she happened to glance down into the sandy cove below and gasped. There floating in the water, was the unmistakable shape of a man. He was face-up, and even at that distance, she thought he looked familiar.

Nel leapt off Blackthorn’s back, having no choice but to leave the mare untethered up on the windy cliff, and she skittered down the tiny, winding path towards the rocky shore below. A number of times she slipped and skidded on the loose grit, but eventually she hit the hard sand at a run and ploughed into the rough surf. It was Edmund Nancarrow, she realised as a wave hit her in the midsection and nearly swept her off her feet.

He had a wound on his forehead, though it had long since stopped bleeding, washed clean by the saltwater. His hair was loose and streamed like kelp around him as she hooked her arms under his and towed him towards the shore. She had no idea whether the tide was coming or going, but she dragged him as far as she could up the length of the beach until her arms were shaking from the strain of it, hauling him past the line of seaweed that indicated a normal high tide line, and carefully lowered him onto the sand.

Her chest burned and her limbs felt like lead, her clothing weighing her down like a ten tonne anchor, and she crashed to her knees on the wet sand beside him. Terrified that he would be dead, she pressed her fingertips to his pulse, and almost leapt back when she felt a steady, if slow, beat beneath his skin. “He’s alive…” she whispered, throat raw from catching a salt-wave straight to her face.

Breathing quickly, she looked about her and then up at the path. There was no way she could get him up there on her own, but as a drift of smoke wafted across the sky from the high horizon, she recalled the stone cottage. If memory served her, that was Locryn Trevethan’s home.

“Any port in a storm,” she mused with a wry, dark grimace to herself, and she staggered to her feet. Her skirts were soaked and heavy beyond belief, and she lost count of the number of times she tripped over them on the narrow, twisting path up the cliff. She had to stop twice just to catch her breath, and by the time she had scrabbled to the top of the path again she was dirty, sweaty, and covered in grit. Finally, she staggered over the rough ground at the top of the cliff and stood on the flagstone threshold of the quiet cottage. Hammering on the door felt like sacrilege to the peaceful place but she had little choice, and there was every chance that Edmund had little time, so she bashed her scuffed and bleeding fists on the door and yelled for help until it opened.

“Calm down, calm down,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled as Locryn Trevethan pulled open the door to his house. “What in the —?”

“I need your help,” she said. “It’s Edmund. He’s hurt.”

At that, the snarling, unfriendly man’s face blanched and his expression showed open fear. “Where, lass?”

“On the beach,” she said and pointed. “He was floating face-up in the surf. I dragged him up the sand but I can’t get him up the cliff. He’s suffered a blow to the head, but he’s alive. Just.”

Ashen-faced, Locryn charged through the doorway like a winter storm, almost knocking her heedlessly off her feet as he passed, and in half the time it had taken her to reach the bottom, the stocky, older man was sprinting over the sand to where she’d left Edmund’s corpse-still body.

For a while, she watched from the clifftop as Locryn pumped his chest in a rhythmic motion, and when Edmund jerked and half-rolled sideways, Nel relaxed a fraction. A few minutes later, Locryn had scooped Edmund up and was marching back up the path again with him lying in his arms like a bride on her wedding day. Except Edmund looked pale to the point of death, and he was soaked through. He wore simple brown trousers and a linen shirt that stuck to every sharp angle of his skinny torso, and his head lolled in Locryn’s arms, hair dangling and dripping.

“Move,” Locryn growled as he reached the top of the path and found her half-blocking his way in her shock as she just stared at them and tried to stop shivering. The wind bit through her wet clothes as they clung horribly to her body. She skittered sideways and let him pass. He didn’t stop as he elbowed his front door open again and trudged in, heedless of the sand he tracked in from his boots.

Nel hung back awkwardly in the doorway, watching as Locryn laid Edmund down on top of his covers and inspected the wound in his hairline. “Can you hear me?” she heard him rumble and watched as Edmund’s eyelids flickered.

“My mare is a little way off,” she said. “I can ride for a doctor if —”

“No,” Locryn barked, straightening from his stoop over the bed to glare at her. “No need.”

“You’re sure?”

He lifted his lip at her and she held up her scraped palms.

“I’m only trying to help,” she said, fighting off tears of shock more than anything else. She hugged her arms around her middle to stop herself falling apart in front of the gruff stranger, and she sucked her cheek to keep from crying.

At that, Locryn’s whole demeanour changed. His massive shoulders sagged and he let his head hang. “I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. Come here then. Draw up a chair and hold his head while I try and get him to drink something. He’ll be alright.”

___

Hope you liked it!!

[honorhearted]

“Is this how you flirt with everyone?”

Benjamin huffed. "If you have to ask, Miss Landsend, I must not be doing it right... Though I believe we've also established I'm incapable of looking elsewhere?" Arching a brow, his expression turned far more impish. "Unless, of course, you're offering to teach me the proper methods? Despite being an e.ducator, I'm also capable of being an enthralled, easily malleable s.tudent."

[gigikthings]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 2 Lng Slv Tops, sz XS.

[2sexxy2bsad]

I love landsend sweaters

[canatokyo]

[ online store ]

[jaimee2001]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Lands' End Nautical Striped T-Shirt Dress with Rope Tie Belt.

[lavatica]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT Lands’ End 100% cashmere cable knit red oblong scarf.

[therapardalis]

[Starter Ask from @herstoriies.]

In all the years that Priscilla has known Thera, regardless of how full or unpredictable her schedule was as a diva, not once has she ever stood her up on an agreed-upon rendezvous. Especially one that the bride-to-be had already expressed looking forward to. So no wonder it would come as a surprise when suddenly at the usual cafe bistro table that Priscilla was supposed to be found seated at - instead sat a young waiter waiting idly drumming his fingers on the table. Who, at the sight of Thera quickly handed her a note from his breastpocket - one hastily written in Priscilla's own hand in English: Lady Landsend, Regrettably, I was not permitted to wait for your arrival to tell you this in person before my sudden urgent departure, so with all my most sincerest apologies I hope this finds you well. By the time you've received this unceremonious note, I will be with the Prefect of Police M. Gisquet at the station Place du Châtelet. Across the channel, London Telegraph has just returned from Scotland Yard confirming my Uncle Thomas' sudden absence.

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

She couldn't have missed Priscilla by more than a few minutes. The girl was only early two or three times a year, and given that Thera was only barely late herself thanks to an inability to hail a cab ...

That was difficult to confirm, however, as the waiter remained only long enough to hand her the note and disappeared back to work while she read it. Twice, her frown deepening all the while. For the entire first part of the missive her heart jumped, expecting the emergency was have to do with Pris' fiancé, or perhaps her mentor, Monsieur Madeleine. It was not until the last line that she startled, blinked, and re-read it over again to be sure.

Thomas - ? What the blue blazes could have happened to Thomas? And what did 'absence' mean, anyway? What - ?

She caught herself sharply, paused and inhaled. Standing here staring at it wasn't going to solve anything. Refolding the note she tucked it into her purse, gave a 'thank you' and generous tip to the waiter, and hurried out the door.

Place du Châtelet. Right. Mentally mapping her course and not bothering with a cab this time, some fifteen minutes later she strode through the police station doors, looking around for Priscilla before approaching the front desk - and heaven help anyone who got in her way.

[3984040t]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Men’s LandsEnd Flannel Button Up Classic Blue Green + White Plaid Ships SAME Day.