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A Long Petal Of The Sea A

The Long Shot

Since he was six years old, Adrian Nero has always had a dream. Thanks to his father's influence, he developed a great interest in football at a very young age. He loved the way the game was played, the way a team of eleven players worked together to score as many goals as possible against their opponents while conceding as little as possible, he loved the tactical aspect of the game with teams trying to play to their strengths and their opponent's weaknesses. But more than those, he loved watching the players lift trophies after winning a tournament. That's right, the thing Adrian liked the most about football was lifting trophies. Immersing himself in any game, his favourite teams played, he always felt like he was there celebrating and smiling with them. He loved that feeling. 'I'll really be there one day.' He always thought to himself. Despite his father's love for the game, his parents did not exactly support his dream to become a footballer and preferred him to go to a normal school to study and get a normal job. However, all hope was not lost as his high school was one of the schools that strongly supported having sports activities in their curriculum and it wasn't just for formality's sake. Adrian fought his way through, becoming the captain of the football team as early as the first year of senior high. With his help the team grew to become quite a formidable one and was named as one of the favourites going into the qualifications for the intercontinental highschool tournament, a competition taking place in his last year of highschool and his chance to lift his first trophy. That was when disaster struck. Due to work reasons, Adrian was forced to move back to his home country with his family leaving behind the team he had worked hard to put together. However, he was fortunate enough to find himself in a school eligible to take part in the qualifications for the tournament. Finding out about that, he felt that all hope wasn't lost, a feeling that was soon carried away by the wind. Sino Academy, although possessing a very good and well-maintained pitch alongside the basic equipment, was one that never took sports seriously. In all the times they had participated in the tournament, they had only been able to get through the qualifications once but miserably failed to get through the group stage. This was an event of fifteen years ago. Facing a school with a non-existent team and players that lacked teamwork, coordination and motivation, Adrian couldn't help but feel that his dream was far beyond his reach.
Mel_Lerion · 209 Views

Inexpressible Longing

"Falling Into the Abyss of Love" Li Haotian, a second-generation rich kid who spent five years abroad, knew nothing but parties and luxury. It wasn’t until he returned home for a welcome banquet that he realized he had developed an inexplicable obsession with Zhao Yuxuan, a powerful figure in Beijing's elite circle, who was eight years older than him. Zhao Yuxuan, cold and aloof, only fueled Li Haotian's frustration and desire. To get closer to Zhao Yuxuan, Li Haotian used every tactic imaginable—wet clothes, bikinis, sheer nightwear—yet every attempt was met with indifference, making Zhao Yuxuan seem almost gay in his avoidance. It wasn’t until his father’s company hit a crisis that Li Haotian discovered the truth: everyone else had known about it for months, and he was the last to find out. His once mighty family empire had been falling apart without him even realizing. Worse, Zhao Yuxuan, whom he had been desperately pursuing, was already surrounded by countless rich heiresses eager to marry him. Li Haotian was nothing more than a disposable plaything. One night, drunk and heartbroken, Li Haotian stumbled into the kitchen to find some alcohol, only to accidentally collide into Zhao Yuxuan’s arms. Zhao Yuxuan didn’t push him away. Instead, he pressed him against the wall, kissing him deeply. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you from now on, and I’ll be far more generous than your father ever was.” Thus, Li Haotian’s life was irrevocably changed. This is a journey from desire to redemption, a story of deep love blossoming from frustration. Amid the intrigue of the elite world, Li Haotian must navigate power struggles and hidden secrets. Can he find his true place in Zhao Yuxuan’s world?
DaoistgnAFaH · 5.2K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 707.6K Views
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