#thalasophile

[dizzyahellfire]

So.... if I made prints of these on canvas, and on postcards, they'd sell right?

[andrewkagis]

The breaker zone . #northbondi #somersalt #northbondibeach #surfer #surfergirl #surfing #thebreakerzone #biglenslittlelens #andrewkagis #underwater #burnmyeye #dave_kelly_water_housings #documentary #sydneylocal #everydayaustralia #bondibeach #bondi #thalasophile #thalasa #australiansummer (at Bondi Beach) https://www.instagram.com/p/CYYhYdUFsqH/?utm_medium=tumblr

[alexandraaurore-blog]

Coucou les ami.e.s, je suis Alexandra, native et originaire de l’île maurice. Future prof de francais au college. I am a B.Ed French student at the university. Kifer sa kour la? Pou ki mo integre bann-nouvo lide dan ledikasion,perfeksionn  mo franse et initier la citoyenneté aux apprenants. 

[iimuchakk]

Thalassophile (Young!Sinbad x reader) Sinbad No Bouken

Summary : Moving to Tison village was never a noble girls dream, neither was meeting a young boy with both a passion for adventure and a talent at drawing people in. You thought the beginning of your life had ended long ago, but truth be told it starts here, and it starts now.

Warnings : Disturbing themes of parental and child relationships with one another

“So come all you pretty maids, whoever that you be, who love a jolly sailor bold, that ploughs the raging sea.”

Chapter : One

Volume 1 Chapter 4 : Precious lessons

Covered in the finest of silk’s and the most glittering of golds, you sat proudly in your seat. Hands laced together and propped up in a lady like manner on your lap. Your chin held itself high in the air proudly, and opposite you, your mother sat in a similar position, except her stature held power and authority, two things you were just beginning to grasp at your young age of 14. Your mother, Mrs Bedivere, was a well-known lady throughout Parthevia. People associated her with discipline, elegance and grace, as well as her ability to strike fear into the hearts of mere men just by glancing at them with her bright blue eyes. Currently, her gaze was off towards the direction of the window. Watching curiously as the view slowly changed from bright colors and rich statures into plain flat lands and dull living shacks. Despite being a wealthy women, the difference did not phase her. In fact, she seemed more pleased than not, and happily turned her attention down towards her pink dress.

Currently, your father was out fighting in the war. He was just as well known as your mother - if not more so - and was a respected officer who gave his loyalty over to the crown. He had never once been defeated, and you were keen on it staying that way. From your seat, your eyes shifted towards your mother, and you slowly opened your mouth to speak. “Mother.” You began gently, keeping your tone soft. In the past you had a habit of raising your voice and she was quick to scold you. Before replying to you, your mothers hands smoothed down a few kinks in her gown, careful not to scrape her nicely fuchsia painted nails. She took her time, then looked at you.

“Yes my sweet. What is it.” To anyone who dosent know her. In that moment she comes across as nothing more then polite and kind, as any mother would be when addressing their own flesh and blood. However to you, as somebody who has spent their entire life around her, and has seen every possible facade she owns, you know she is not happy from being brought out of her thoughts. Her eyes give it away, it is always her eyes. Holding back the urge to shift uncomfortable, you smile kindly.

“This village were moving to. What is it like? Will father soon be joining us?” Casually you moved a finger to your hair and began to twirl a strand of it vivaciously between your soft finger tips, that had obviously never seen a days of hard work.

“Tison village?” Your mother murmured quietly to herself, taking a short moment to ponder on what she should say. After a second or so, she glanced back out towards the window. The blurry colors of the quickly passing scenery not escaping her hawk like vision. “It’s not nearly as beautiful as what were use to back at home. Poor people at every turn, fishermen, most likely thieves and ruffians…However, I have been assured we will be given every luxury possible that comes with taking on this task the military has given your father once he returns. I’ve been told by the palace that our house is to be a suitable distance away from the others, and it will be the most well kept there. In addition, we will be given steady income, and wont have to associate ourselves to much with the people. As for your father -” Her gaze finally settles onto you, and for a moment, you swear she is hostile. “He will be joining us shortly. Now if you don’t mind. I would like to enjoy the rest of the carriage ride in silence.”

You note that is her lady like way of telling you to shut up, and so you comply. Soon, silence engulfs the two of you.

The carriage you both ride in is extravagant. The interior looks as though a chunk of the Parthevian castle has been taken, and the exterior not much different. You think back to the task at hand your mother mentioned your father having. When he returns from the war, he is meant to be taking control over Tison village for the emperor. A few years back when you were just a young girl, a Reim spy by the name of Darius had been sheltered by an expatriot, and ever since, the village has been less compliant to the needs of the Parthevian war. The kingdom hopes your father can restore the faith they once had in the military. As do you. The war is not something the rest of Parthevia takes lightly. In order to win, everybody is needed to help out in some way shape or form. Weather that means sending off their fathers and sons, or giving away their boats and money. That, is the Parthevian way.

Upon arrival, you watched from the shelter of your ride as people from the village crowded together to watch the commotion. Two horses rode beside the carriage, with two guards heavily armored controlling the reigns. Those two men were supposed to be yours and your mothers personal guards. Without your father with you, the two of you wouldn’t be able to fend for yourselves after all. You smiled widely when catching the boisterous grin of Knight Strous. Ever since you were a young girl, Sir Strous had been your only real friend. He was four years older than you, and while you were busy learning how to read and write, he was busying himself with the task of swords skills. Unlike his mentor Sir Gregor the third, who was also accompanying you. Strous was a lot kinder, and a lot more clumsy. He did make up for it with his charm though. You’d never seen somebody so easily talk an old women into stop hitting them with her bag. Holding back a laugh, you scanned over the people of Tison village.

The people dressed dully. Most of them wearing dark mucky brown clothing, or fabrics you could tell were of poor quality. You frowned. Unimpressed with the conditions. You expected something more. But what of you did not know. At the front of the crowd young girls and boys stood. Whispering excitedly about the new sights and carelessly pointing and tugging on their parents clothes. It was an odd exchange, you and your parents hardly ever acted towards each other like that.

“He looks strangely familiar.” Your mother quietly whispered to herself. Looking to her, you followed her stare dead ahead, to meet the face of a young boy around your age. He was handsome, that was a given. He had long purple hair tied into a ponytail, and his facial features were well defined. His clothing was simple, but suited him well. For a brief moment, his golden orbs moved ever so slightly to meet your own. As if by reflex your cheeks grew hot, and your eyes nervously shifted to any where other then his own. A higher class should not be caught staring at someone of lower status, and from your mothers disapproving hum, you knew the act did not go unnoticed. 

Your posture faltered, and you sunk back into your seat to escape the gaze’s of the villagers and perhaps spare yourself from doing anything else your mother could criticize you for. Your mother didn’t seem to care about your bodies sudden lack of nobility. Nobody could see you from your position now. The public could not judge what they could not see. After that moment, you couldn’t get that boy out of your head, and you most certainly couldn’t get the fact your mother recognized him out of there either. The carriage continued on for a couple more minuets, until it finally stopped outside your new home.

Stepping out of the carriage, you curiously staggered over to the sight. Then, you paused.

“This could be nicer.” You concluded. Strous laughed, joining you.

“It’s nicer then the other houses. Believe me.” He told you, picking up your luggage. “I’m not even living in this. Count yourself lucky my lady.” Using his free hand to take off his helmet, Strous shook his head allowing his blond curly hair to run free. “Me and Sir Gregor will be living in a nice little shack behind your house. The thought of being cooped up with that grumpy old man really makes my day.”

“I’m glad to know you like Sir Gregor as much as the next person.” Playfully Strous nudged you. It caused him to stumble more then you since he had a bag of your heavy luggage in his other arm. If he was anyone else you’d have them arrested, but this was Strous. He’d do anything to protect you. With one final chuckle, Strous ventured towards your house. It was large and built completely of wood like many of the other buildings in Tison village. This one however, was decorated with flowers and expensive looking ornaments. Still, it hardly even rivaled your old home.

Sighing, you looked back towards where you had just came from before beginning to walk towards your house.

Suddenly a hand clasped gently around your wrist. Turning you directly back into golden orbs you didn’t think you would see again for a while. A tiny squeak surpassed your lips and you watched as the boy from earlier got down onto one knee, placing a gentle kiss to the back of your. Your face flushed yet again, and he winked. “My lady. It’s a pleasure knowing someone as beautiful as yourself will be staying here. My name is Sinbad, Sinbad the sailor. What’s yours?”

Whack.

A dumbfounded expression replaced his flirtatious grin, leaving him looking like a lost puppy. You on the other hand, were both outraged and deeply confused. No boy had ever made such a brash movement like that towards you before. This boy - Sinbad - had a large red hand print on his cheek, his lower lip stuck out in a futile attempt to make you feel bad for him. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he stood to his feet, towering over you by two inches or so. You both stood a whiles length from your house, in the entrance of the small wooded area where the carriage had stopped. In an instant, he snapped back to his earlier self. “You have an arm on you.” 

“How dare you -” He stepped forward abruptly. And so you took a step back. The heel of your shoes catching on some sort of rocky surface, causing you to fall backwards. It was most certainly ungraceful, your arms flailing recklessly above you for some sort of balance. In the end, you got your wish. But it came in the form of a slim arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you close to their body.

“Could have been quite a fall. You’re lucky.” In a space of a minuet, you have been told twice about how lucky you are, but it is quite the opposite of how you feel. By now you sure your face is a bright red, and Sinbad smirks arrogantly. “I have saved you my lady. The least I can get in return is a name?” You glanced away, and slowly heaved yourself from his chest, standing up straight and lifting your head high. It seemed to amuse him.

“If your going to keep pestering me then I’ll have you know you can address me either as Miss Bedivere or Lady Bedivere, Sinbad the sailor.” You spat his name out coated in venom. Causing him to pout. “Now. I must be taking my leave as should you. Otherwise I will most certainly be getting my personal guard over here to escort you out of my families land. Good day to you.”

“Wait!” Nostrils flaring, you were ready to give this boy a good piece of your mind. You wouldn’t have cared about talking to him, but his greeting was rude and his manner even worse. He needed to learn his place and you wouldn’t mind fetching Strous to teach him it. “Now listen here-”

“Will I see you again?”

“Pardon?” Sinbad smiled gently, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword. It didn’t seem to be an act of aggression. But more like a habit of his he’d picked up along his way. Taken a back, your lips pursed as you tried thinking of a way to answer him back. “W-well.” You stuttered, not pleased with yourself in the slightest. “I-I live here now so it’s not as though we wont be seeing each other.” Your reply seemed to please him and he turned his back towards you. Then sauntered away. This Sinbad, he certainly left an impression.

The inside of the house was much more pleasant then the outside’s appearance made it seem. It had a cosy feel to it, and even though it was very different from what you were use to. The change was nice. You were sat in one of the kitchen’s wooden chairs. A plush pillow placed behind your back. Your hand was clasped softly around a quill as you used the roses in the flower pot that was situated in the middle of the table as inspiration to draw. You had always been a good drawer. Your old nanny had said you had an eye for things others could not see. In fact, when you were little you believed her. You always found yourself zoning out and a moment later you’d look down to see something spectacular sketched out to perfection on your paper. This was one of them moments. Like chimes ringing in your ears, white noise had completely left and was replaced with the calm waves of the ocean near by, and the chirping of woodland birds. On the page, an image of a rose covered meadow had been drawn, and in the midst stood a figure shadowed in the rays of the sun.

“Darling.” Pulling you out of your daze, you looked up to your mother who had turned from stirring the stew to study your form. She simply glanced to the picture you had drawn before pursing her lips. “Whats on your mind? Your worrying me. Has something happened?” Lies. Your mind betrayed your heart, which clenched in pain knowing you were right. She didn’t care, she didn’t worry. She just wanted to know, she just wanted control. In your throat, a lump formed. It formed from fear. You smiled crookedly at her, and shook your head.

“Nothings wrong mother. Please don’t worry.” You willed. “Nothing has happened at all. It’s just such a change I’m still adjusting to life here.” You regretted hiding the truth from her immediately after, as a hateful smirk arose on her face. A “Tuting” noise escaped her lips, and she walked over to stand behind you, her hips swaying, much like a lions as they stalked their prey. Leaning down into your ear, she used her nails to grasp the lobe. Making sure you couldn’t tug away, even though she full well knew you wouldn’t. It would leave indents in the skin. She knew that too.

“I want you to stay away from him. Far, far away.”

[nan-the-lemon]

thalasophile: (n.) a person who loves the sea, oceans

[iammhia]

[eknatgab]

We dream in colors borrowed from the sea 🌊⛴ • • • • #Weekenders #Beaches #Paradise #Travel #Thalasophile #OOTD (at Philippines) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2p-lkCFo4C/?igshid=ufslq4dzuied

[yakuzaabee]

'I need vitamin sea.' ❤ #wishyouwerehere #sea #thalasophile #beaches #beautiful #rocks #blue #bluesky #travel #thailand https://www.instagram.com/p/BvUCPrDHG6M/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=y5jj4sp7oxu9