#so on so forth the world is beautiful the possibilities are endless you get it

[ddeck]

long lived sw races must be so extra about their hobbies. imagine you live for thousand years and a century of that time you decide to dedicate to making a single big af carpet

[dee-writes-smut]

SUMMER (Chapter Four)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY healing is a long journey that can't be summed up in just four simple seasons, but it seems with the help of a certain shadowsinger at your side, you've seemed to do it.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, Cassian POV, and mentions of wingspans ;)

AUTHORS NOTE the finale you've all been waiting for is finally here as promised! Thank you all so much for your support during this series, I am excited to be back and writing for you all again! Love you all and I hope you enjoy! <3

Summer arrives like a promise fulfilled, a canvas awash with vibrant hues of green and gold, as if nature herself has donned her finest attire. The air hums with the gentle whisper of transformation, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the promise of new beginnings on its warm breeze.

As the sun stretches its golden fingers across the land, casting long shadows that dance in its radiant glow, there's a palpable sense of rejuvenation in the air. It's as if each dawn heralds a new chapter, a chance to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the endless possibilities of the present.

In this season of abundance, life bursts forth with an exuberance that is both intoxicating and invigorating. The world awakens from its slumber, blossoming with a riot of colors as flowers unfurl their petals in joyful defiance of the lingering chill of winter. Leaves rustle in the gentle caress of the wind, their verdant whispers carrying tales of resilience and growth.

Amidst this symphony of nature's symphony, there is a sense of newfound strength coursing through every living thing. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the warmth of the sun infuses each day with a sense of possibility, igniting a fire within the soul that refuses to be extinguished.

In the heart of summer, time seems to slow, allowing moments to linger like the last rays of sunlight on a balmy evening. It's a season of exploration and adventure, where every day holds the promise of discovery and every sunset marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

And as the days stretch languidly into twilight, there is a quiet resilience that takes root, a deep-seated belief in the power of new beginnings and the strength that comes from embracing change. For in the heart of summer, beneath the sweltering heat and the endless blue skies, lies the untold promise of tomorrow, waiting to be seized with both hands and forged into something beautiful.

(Mid Summer, Velaris)

The afternoon sun poured into the training ring, casting long shadows of the figures sparring lightly within it. Cassian was across from me, a patient yet mischievous grin on his face, as he handed me a training sword. “Ready to get your ass kicked, or are you going to make me work for it today?”

I smirked, feeling the flutter of my old spirit stirring within. “Dream on, Cassian.”

The clash of our swords sang through the air, a melody of metal that resonated with the pounding of my heart. Each strike, each parry, felt like shedding layers of fear that had cocooned me since losing my wings.

“Focus,” Cassian said, his voice a mix of sternness and encouragement. “Remember, it’s not just about strength. It’s about knowing your opponent.”

I nodded, gripping my own wooden sword a little tighter. As I lunged forward, Cassian parried easily, countering with a swift movement that I barely blocked in time. We moved in a rhythm, the clack of our swords punctuating each maneuver. My muscles remembered the dance, even if they ached from disuse. Cassian’s style was a flurry of motion, designed to overwhelm, but today he tempered his usual ferocity, giving me room to find my footing again. The physical exertion was grounding, pulling me further away from my mental ghosts.

Laughter and shouts from Mor, watching from the sidelines, filled the arena, her cheers a buoyant soundtrack to our dance of blades and as we paused for a break, Mor jogged over with a waterskin and a smirk. She threw an arm around my shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Look at you! You’re almost back to your old self,” she beamed, her pride evident.

The warmth from her compliment soaked through me, loosening some of the tightness still lingering in my chest. “Feels good to move like that again,” I admitted, allowing the truth of my words to wash over me. It did feel good—like claiming back pieces of my soul, piece by piece.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” she smiled, squeezing me close again as she handed me the waterskin. After I took a long drink, she shot me a sly glance. “Speaking of fun, have you noticed how Azriel can't seem to stay away from your side?”

Mor’s eyebrows wiggled as I coughed on the water, wiping my mouth as I tried to compose myself. “He’s just being supportive,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Cassian chuckled, leaning on his sword. “Oh, he’s being supportive, all right. Haven’t seen him this glued to someone since… well, ever.”

I rolled my eyes, but the seed of awareness began to sprout in my mind. Azriel had indeed been a constant presence, his quiet strength a comfort I hadn’t realized I’d leaned on so much.

“Do you think it might be a mating bond?” Mor asked casually, too casually, as she inspected her nails.

The question halted me, the weight of the implication settling in my stomach like a stone. The mating bond was sacred, profound—was I ready for something like that? The very thought made my heart race, not just with fear but with a blossoming hope I hadn’t acknowledged until now.

“Maybe he’s just being a good friend,” I countered, but my voice lacked conviction.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “When you know, you know,” he said simply. “And it looks like you’re starting to realize something there.”

We resumed training, but his words echoed in my mind with each strike and block. Azriel’s face appeared in my thoughts, his smiles, the gentle touch of his hands, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me lately. My feelings for him, which I had shelved as mere gratitude or the simple need for companionship during recovery, seemed to be deepening into something richer, more profound.

As we finished and walked back towards the House of Wind, Mor looped her arm through mine. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she whispered. “But don’t close your heart to the possibility of something beautiful. Azriel cares for you deeply, more than just as a friend or protector.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow that bathed the world in a soft, forgiving light. It felt symbolic, reflective of my own internal dawn. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to consider that what lay between Azriel and me could be the kind of love that songs and tales were spun from. As fear and doubt receded, leaving room for this new, tender hope, I realized that my journey of healing was also leading me down a path of rediscovering my capacity to love—not just Azriel, but myself and this new life I was slowly, bravely building.

(Mid Summer, The River House)

That evening, the dinner with the Inner Circle was held at the sprawling, candlelit table in the River House. The atmosphere was thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of friendship and familial bonds. The windows were thrown open, allowing the crisp, cool air of Velaris to sweep through the room, mixing with the scent of jasmine and roasted meats.

As I entered the dining room, a subtle change in my demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by the group. Rhysand was the first to catch my eye, giving me a nod of approval and a warm, welcoming smile. Amren, ever observant, watched me with her piercing gaze, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, acknowledging the shift in my spirits.

Azriel, standing slightly apart, offered me a soft, encouraging smile as I took my place next to him. His quiet strength bolstered my newfound resolve to engage more fully with those around me.

Dinner began with a lively discussion led by Feyre about a recent exhibition at the art gallery in the city. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she described the vibrant colors and revolutionary techniques of the new artists showcased. I listened, chiming in with my thoughts on the integration of night and day themes, which earned an approving laugh from Rhys.

As the meal continued, Cassian, true to form, began recounting one of his training escapades, embellishing the details to make his tale more dramatic. “And then, just as I was about to execute my perfectly planned maneuver, an Illyrian baby sneezed on me. Totally threw off my game!”

Laughter erupted around the table, and I found myself genuinely chuckling, the sound surprising even to me. “Only you, Cassian, could be outmaneuvered by a baby’s sneeze,” I teased, earning a round of applause and a mock bow from Cassian.

“See, she’s got jokes now! Our girl’s coming back to us,” Mor exclaimed, her face alight with joy. She reached over to squeeze my hand, her gesture warm and reassuring.

As plates were cleared and desserts were served, the conversation shifted to lighter, more personal stories. Feyre shared anecdotes about her latest painting misadventures, while Mor detailed her plans for the upcoming festival in the city. Each story, each shared laugh, felt like a stitch mending the frayed edges of my soul.

As the dinner party began to wind down in the warm, laughter-filled hall, a soft coo from the corner caught my attention. Nyx, cradled gently in Feyre’s arms, was awake and curiously peeking over her shoulder with wide, starry eyes. I felt my heart tug softly. It had been too long since I had held him, too long since I’d allowed myself to be part of these simpler, beautiful family moments.

Feyre caught my gaze and smiled, understanding immediately. “Someone wants to say hello,” she said softly, walking over with Nyx. His small hand reached out, and I couldn’t help but smile as his fingers grasped at the air between us.

“May I?” I asked, my voice a whisper of excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty.

“Of course,” Feyre replied, carefully transferring Nyx into my arms. The baby settled against me with ease, a soft sigh escaping him as if he found comfort in my embrace. His tiny hand reached up, touching my cheek gently, an innocent gesture that felt like a reassurance of missed affection. It was as if he was saying he remembered me, that he too had felt the absence of our connection.

The moment wasn’t lost on Azriel, who watched from a short distance. His shadows flickered subtly around him, a telltale sign of his emotions stirring beneath that calm exterior. Since the conversation with Cassian and Mor earlier today, every glance, every small interaction with him seemed charged with a new, silent tension. My newly admitted feelings for him amplified each shared look, adding weight to the air between us.

As I rocked Nyx gently, my thoughts drifted to Azriel again. His presence at my side had become a constant, his support unwavering. The depth of my affection for him had crept up silently, weaving itself into the fabric of my daily life until it was indistinguishable from my other truths. I found myself stealing glances at him, each look a quiet confession of the feelings I was only beginning to allow myself to acknowledge.

Azriel eventually made his way over, his gaze softening as he looked at Nyx in my arms. “He’s missed you,” Azriel murmured, his voice barely audible over the low hum of conversation around us.

I met his eyes, feeling a flush of warmth at the intimacy of the moment. “I’ve missed him, too. Missed all of this,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. The way Azriel looked at me then, with such warmth and depth, made my heart skip a beat.

“Looks good on you,” he said after a pause, nodding towards Nyx.

The comment, simple and offhand, thrummed with unspoken meanings. It was a nudge against the boundaries we had maintained, a gentle probing into the new spaces of my heart that had begun to open to him.

As I handed Nyx back to Feyre, I caught Azriel’s arm gently. “Stay for a moment?” I asked, my voice hopeful, laden with the weight of all the things I hadn’t yet said.

He nodded, his usual reserve melting away for a moment as he stayed by my side, his presence a silent promise of things perhaps soon to be explored. We both knew something unspoken was shifting between us, and while neither of us was ready to dive into those waters just yet, acknowledging it—even in silence—felt like the first step toward a new horizon.

(Mid Summer, The House of Wind)

The following week, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, and I revived our "book club"—a ruse for nights filled with wine, wild discussions about our latest reads, and shared secrets under the cloak of night. As I sat curled up on a plush couch, a glass of wine in hand, surrounded by these incredible women, a profound sense of belonging enveloped me. Here, in these moments, I was safe to just be; to heal, to laugh, to grow.

The cozy nook tucked away in the House of Wind had become our sanctuary, a place where the Inner Circle’s book club convened to discuss literature, life, and everything in between. Tonight, as the flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the room, I settled into my usual spot among the plush cushions, surrounded by my closest friends.

Feyre, Nesta, and Mor lounged around me, each with a book in hand, their faces alight with anticipation for our weekly gathering. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, the air buzzing with the promise of lively conversation and shared insights.

“So, what’s everyone reading this week?” Mor asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced around the circle.

Feyre held up a worn copy of her latest find, a tale of forbidden love and political intrigue. “I’m revisiting an old favorite,” she said with a smile. “It’s like catching up with an old friend.”

Nesta, with a smirk playing on her lips, produced a rather scandalous-looking novel with a provocative cover. “I’m exploring the more… sensual side of literature,” she declared, her voice dripping with amusement.

As the conversation flowed around me, I couldn’t help but chuckle at Nesta’s choice. Leave it to her to bring a little spice to our book club discussions. I was hesitant to share tonight, scared to share my feelings so blatantly, to say them out loud in a space with women who would not so soon let me forget. Tonight felt different, though, I felt stronger, able to seize this chance to share with my friends the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

“I’ve been reading this collection of poetry,” I began, my voice tentative at first. “It’s funny how words can capture the complexity of human emotions so beautifully.”

Mor’s eyes gleamed with interest, her grin widening. “Ah, poetry—the language of the heart,” she said, her tone teasing yet tender. “Any particular poem speaking to you?”

I hesitated, my gaze flickering to the empty spot where Azriel usually sat. His absence was keenly felt, a reminder of the unresolved tension between us. “There’s one poem that resonates with me,” I admitted, my voice growing stronger with each word. “It’s about…” I faltered, the weight of my confession heavy on my tongue.

Feyre leaned forward, her eyes warm with understanding. “About love?” she prompted gently, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine in silent support.

I nodded, the words spilling forth in a rush. “About love, and fear, and the courage to open your heart to someone—even when it scares you.”

Nesta regarded me with a thoughtful expression, her gaze piercing yet compassionate. “Love is a battlefield,” she said, her voice soft yet firm. “But sometimes, the greatest victories come from facing our fears head-on.”

Mor chimed in with her trademark humor, lightening the mood with a well-timed joke. “Who knew our stoic Shadowsinger had a soft spot for you?”

Feyre smiled knowingly, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe it’s time to confront the shadows and see what lies beneath.”

Nesta couldn’t resist adding her own brand of wit to the conversation. “Speaking of shadows,” she said with a sly grin, “has anyone else noticed Azriel’s wingspan lately?”

We all laughed at Nesta’s comment, the tension in the room dissipating as we embraced the camaraderie of our little gathering. Despite the challenges we faced, tonight was a reminder that with the support of friends, even the darkest shadows could be chased away.

As the evening wore on, our conversation drifted from books to more personal topics, each of us sharing snippets of our lives and experiences. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a chance to peel back the layers and reveal the raw truths hidden beneath.

Nesta, ever the enigma, shared tales of her latest adventures in the human lands, her sharp wit and cunning intellect shining through with every word.

Mor, always the life of the party, regaled us with stories of her escapades in the Court of Nightmares, her laughter contagious as she recounted her misadventures.

And Feyre, with her quiet strength and unwavering compassion, offered words of wisdom and encouragement, her presence a soothing balm to our troubled souls.

As for me, I found solace in their company, the weight of my burdens eased by the warmth of their friendship. In their laughter and shared moments, I found the courage to confront my fears and embrace the possibility of a brighter future.

And as the candles burned low and the night grew late, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I would face them with the unwavering support of my sisters by my side.

The support of the entire Inner Circle was a force as tangible as the magic that coursed through our veins—a constant, steadfast presence that fortified me against the darker moments. Their belief in me, their unyielding backing, gave me strength, and little by little, I began to feel not just the shadow of the person I once was, but someone stronger, resilient, reborn from adversity.

In these gatherings, these moments of shared vulnerability and joy, I was not just healing. I was transforming—emerging not how I was before the kidnapping, but perhaps even brighter, tempered by trials and warmed by the unwavering light of the family I chose and who had chosen me in return.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The night pressed heavily around the room, its silence a thick, oppressive blanket punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of Azriel beside me. In the comfort of his proximity, sleep had finally granted me a temporary reprieve from the relentless torment of my nightmares. Yet, the peace was fragile, vulnerable to the slightest disturbance—a reality proven as a sharp, inexplicable chill sliced through the room's stagnant warmth.

The temperature plummeted, wrapping its icy fingers around my spine, jolting me awake. My eyes flicked open, instantly scanning the familiar contours of the room bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight. Shadows clung to the walls like dark, silent sentinels until one stirred coalescing into a form far too human, far too familiar.

Lyris emerged from the darkness as though materializing from my deepest fears, his presence a tangible echo of past horrors. His eyes, sharp and merciless, locked onto mine with the precision of a hunter sighting its prey. The sheer malevolence in his gaze sent a visceral shudder through me, yet it was no longer solely fear that stirred within my veins. Anger, raw and blazing, kindled within, fueling a burgeoning defiance I hadn't known I possessed.

"Thinking you could escape me?" Lyris's voice was a venomous hiss, his form inching closer with predatory grace. His smirk was twisted, a grotesque mask of sadistic anticipation.

But then, with the seamless reflexes honed by centuries of battle, Azriel was between us. His body moved with lethal precision, his hand snapping out to seize Lyris by the wrist, halting his advance with unyielding strength. "She's under my protection," Azriel snarled, his voice a dangerous, low rumble. His other hand flicked to his side, the sound of steel sliding from leather slicing through the tension as he brandished a dagger, its blade catching the moon's silver light.

Lyris recoiled slightly, his eyes darting to the blade then back to Azriel’s unwavering stare. "You think you can keep her from her fate?" he spat, struggling against Azriel's iron grip.

“Her fate is her own, and you have no part in it,” Azriel retorted, his wings unfurling menacingly. The air around us thickened with dark, swirling shadows, responding to the raw power emanating from him. In that moment, he was not just my protector but an avenging angel cloaked in night's embrace.

The room filled with a heavy, expectant silence, thick with the weight of unspoken threats. Breaking the tension, I found my voice, though it trembled with the force of my emotions. "Where are my wings, Lyris?" The question tore from me, a desperate plea tangled with a demand.

"Your wings?" he mused mockingly, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "Such a precious prize… Let's just say they're kept in a place where they await their true destiny—far from your reach.”

"Give them back," Azriel demanded, his tone lethal, a stark contrast to the deceptive calm of his posture.

Lyris's laugh was cold and chilling, like the howl of the wind outside. "You overestimate your power here, shadow singer. I could take her now, and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

Azriel's response was swift and deadly serious. "Try it, and it will be the last thing you do." His wings unfurled dramatically as he snatched Lyris’ wrist in a powerful grip, the span of dark membrane filling the room with a sense of otherworldly power. The shadows around him deepened, swirling in response to his anger and the protective fury that laced every syllable.

The standoff stretched, a moment suspended in time where every breath, every heartbeat was laden with potential violence. Then, with a jerk, Lyris wrenched free, stepping back into the protective shroud of darkness. “She will never be free from me," he hissed, his presence oppressive, suffocating. "And neither will you."

Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he dissolved into shadows, leaving a cold void in his wake. His final words echoed ominously, a malevolent promise hanging in the air. As the immediate threat vanished, Azriel’s demeanor shifted, the lethal warrior receding to reveal his concern. He turned to me, his intense gaze softening. “Are you alright?” His voice was now a gentle whisper, a stark contrast to the deadly thunder from moments before.

I collapsed back against the pillows, my body trembling uncontrollably. The fear wasn't just about the physical presence of Lyris—it was the emotional and psychological terror, the deep scars he had left on my soul, that overwhelmed me.

Azriel sat beside me, enveloping me in his arms, his presence a solid, reassuring force against the lingering echoes of dread. "I'm here. You're safe," he murmured against my hair, his voice a soothing balm.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, sobs wracking my body as the terror slowly ebbed away, replaced by immense fatigue. "We have to get them back, Azriel. I need to feel whole again."

His embrace tightened, a silent promise of unyielding support. "We will," he assured me quietly. "No matter what it takes, we will bring them back.” He took a deep breath, his arms tightening around me as if he were scared that I might run from him. “Always, I will protect you. From him, from anyone who dares to threaten you,” he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. His wings, now gently wrapped around us, formed a cocoon that felt impenetrable.

Settling back against him, I allowed the warmth of his embrace to seep deeper into my bones, expelling the lingering chill of Lyris's visit. His presence was a bastion, within which I found not only protection but a profound sense of belonging.

As we lay back down, the room once again shrouded in the soothing silence of night, a new resolve fortified my spirit. Lyris had found me, yes, but he had not found me alone, nor would he ever. Azriel’s vow to protect me was more than a promise—it was a declaration, a sentinel set against the darkness, both within and without. As sleep beckoned once more, the shadows no longer seemed an ominous threat lurking in the corners but allies, guardians cloaked in the same darkness that wrapped around us, a shield against all that would do harm.

(Late Summer, Cassian)

The morning after Lyris's intrusion, the House of Wind seemed to hold its breath, an unspoken tension palpable in the air. Everyone had shared their worries for her, our friend who had clawed her way back from that bastard's torment. We all worried, we all loved her so greatly, enjoyed the way her presence warmed Azriel’s cold exterior and to see her fall back into that dark place she had fought her way out of, to take Azriel unknowingly with her again, it poured a dark sense of grief over the house.

But amidst the uncertainty, the deep seeded fear of losing our friend once more, there was a glimmer of light, a beacon of hope cutting through the darkness. Entering the kitchen, I was met with a scene that caught me off guard—our friend, her laughter ringing out like a bell as she shared a moment of levity with Azriel. It was a rare sight, one that stirred a mixture of surprise and quiet satisfaction within me.

Azriel, usually cloaked in shadows both literal and metaphorical, had a small, genuine smile playing at the corners of his lips. His usually guarded demeanor seemed to soften in her presence, and I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in the air between them.

Their interaction spoke volumes, a silent language of understanding and companionship that transcended words. Despite the trials they had faced, there was a sense of comfort and familiarity in their shared laughter, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the company of those we held dear.

As I joined them in the kitchen, a silent witness to their shared moment of joy, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the bond that had formed between them. Their friendship had weathered storms that would have broken lesser souls, and yet here they were, laughing together as if the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders.

And as I observed them, surrounded by the warmth of their laughter and the comfort of their companionship, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope for the future. For in the bond between her and Azriel, I saw strength, resilience, and the promise of brighter days ahead.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The day had been long and daunting, with every passing moment feeling like a test of endurance. The worry from my friends was palpable, their concern etched into every glance and every word. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate their care—it was their hovering, their treating me like a fragile thing, that grated against my newfound sense of strength. But amidst it all, there was Azriel.

He stood as a steadfast anchor amidst the storm, a silent guardian who watched over me with unwavering determination. While others fretted and fussed, he remained at my side, a silent sentinel who seemed to understand without the need for words. His presence alone was enough to bolster my spirits, to remind me that I was not alone in this struggle.

Throughout the day, I found myself stealing glances at him, marveling at the depth of his care. How had I not noticed it before? His gaze lingered on me with a mixture of concern and understanding, his eyes a window to the depths of his soul. It was as if he saw straight through the facade I presented to the world, recognizing the strength within me even when I doubted it myself.

As evening descended and the weight of the day settled upon us, we retreated to the familiar sanctuary of my room. Azriel had made it his own, his presence a comforting presence in the darkness. The routine of preparing for bed had become second nature to us—changing into pajamas, brushing our teeth side by side, and slipping under the covers as Azriel performed his meticulous check of the room.

In the quiet moments before sleep claimed us, we lay in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for Azriel's unwavering support, for his steadfast presence that had seen me through the darkest of days. It was a bond forged in the crucible of adversity, a connection that defied explanation yet felt more real than anything I had ever known.

“Azriel?” I called softly into the night, my voice barely a whisper.

He turned to me, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. For a moment, we simply gazed at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. And then, with a small smile, he reached out, pulling me closer until I was nestled against his chest.

At that moment, as I lay nestled against Azriel's chest, something shifted between us—a subtle yet profound change that altered the very fabric of our connection. It was as if the air crackled with an invisible energy, a tangible tension that seemed to draw us closer together.

I felt it first, the unmistakable sensation of the mating bond snapping into place with a sudden clarity that took my breath away. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. The primal need to be close to him, to feel his presence as an extension of my own, suddenly made perfect sense.

And then, as if in response to my realization, Azriel let out a small gasp, his arms tightening around me with a fierce urgency that mirrored my own. It was a primal, instinctual reaction, as if some ancient part of him recognized the significance of this moment and refused to let me go.

In that instant, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, replaced by a profound sense of clarity and understanding. We were bound together, our souls intertwined in a way that transcended the physical realm. And as I gazed into Azriel's eyes, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united by the unbreakable bond that now bound us.

"I'll protect you, ensure you are safe and happy and loved," Azriel vowed, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around me like a warm embrace, promising sanctuary in the depths of his love.

Tears welled in my eyes as his words washed over me, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm my fragile resolve. "As will I," I replied, my voice trembling with the weight of my own commitment, my heart laid bare before him in a moment of raw vulnerability.

His eyes, pools of darkness tinged with golden fire, bore into mine with a fierce intensity, piercing through the walls I had built around my heart. "Throughout all the seasons you will be mine, if that is what you want?" His voice was a whisper, yet it echoed through the chambers of my soul, stirring something deep within me that I could no longer deny.

With a trembling breath, I reached out to him, my fingers trembling as they traced the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every scar, every shadow that danced across his skin. "There is no one else I would rather share them with," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, the truth of my words ringing out in the quiet room like a sacred vow.

And in that moment, as our souls intertwined in the golden threads of the mating bond, I felt a surge of emotion wash over me, overwhelming in its intensity. It was as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had been lifted from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that I had longed for all my life.

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the space between us as we stood on the precipice of eternity. In that sacred embrace, we found refuge from the storms that had battered our souls, forging a connection that would endure the trials of time. And as we surrendered to the pull of the mating bond, our hearts beat as one, a symphony of love and devotion that echoed through the halls of the House of Wind.

Together, we would face the challenges that lay ahead, our bond a beacon of hope in the darkness, guiding us through the labyrinth of life with unwavering strength and unwavering love.

For in each other's arms, we had found our home, our sanctuary, our forever. And as the night enveloped us in its embrace, we knew that no matter what trials awaited us, we would face them together, united in a love that was destined to last for all eternity.

[PREVIOUS]

[wishcamper]

Nessian Week Day 3 - Symphony

For the third day of @nessianweek, here's a sweet lil snip of post-canon domestic Nessian.

Photo is of Old Town in Dubrovnik, Croatia, which is how I always picture Velaris.

Read here or on ao3!

Five More Minutes

Post-ACOSF slice of life of Nesta enjoying the sounds of the morning (and avoiding getting up).

’T is you that are the music, not your song. The song is but a door which, opening wide, Lets forth the pent-up melody inside, Your spirit’s harmony, which clear and strong Sing but of you. 

- 'Listening', Amy Lowell

—-

Dawn breaks, cresting the mountains, light spilling over the world. Velaris comes alive in fits and starts, and the harbor bell clangs as sailors bring in their first catch of the day, gulls crying out their envy overhead. The world is waking around her, but Nesta keeps her eyes closed beneath the heavy coverlet. Her stubbornness refuses to entertain the day, not yet.

Cassian seems to agree, though he’ll never admit it. A groan rumbles somewhere behind her, incoherent mumblings of her mate rousing, emerging from the depths of sleep into the day. Nesta hears the slide of sheets, a rustle of wings, then a muffling as he drapes one over her, cocooned for a moment while he presses closer and noises of lazy contentment fill her ear.

He’s warm, always, a furnace in their bed. They both remember the cold too well to sleep any way but right up next to each other, especially on mornings like this, when the air inside carries the chill of late autumn.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, his deep voice thick and fuzzy.

She pretends to be asleep, partly because she wishes she still was, but mostly to draw this out as long as possible. To hear the sweet murmurings Cassian pours over her when he believes her most unguarded, when he tries to reach her dreams.

A broad hand strokes up her side, coming to rest across her stomach. Careful, so as not to wake her. “Fuck, you smell good. And you're so soft. I’m so lucky to wake up next to you.”

Words she’d roll her eyes at in the day, especially if someone else were to overhear, pretty declarations easy enough to toss like flower petals. But in seclusion they manage to travel the distance between his lips and her ear without losing their potency, and Nesta feels them sink in, loosening a muscle in her shoulder.

“Beautiful Nes. You’re so precious to me.”

Cassian holds her for a bit longer, and she listens to the steady tide of his breath so slow and even. It’s punctuated every now and then by his sighs of pleasure, evidence of the way she softens him too in this quiet, liminal place that’s only theirs. 

After a time he rises, the bed’s creaking followed by a thump of the House producing his training leathers. Water runs in the bathing chamber, a splash in the sink, then the scrape of a comb through unruly hair before the endless series of clasps and buckles. Nesta can picture in her mind where each one sits, the high ping of the clip at his shoulder, hard snaps at his sides where the back panel secures to accommodate his wings. Cassian hums under his breath as he dresses, some tune she can’t place, though it might’ve drifted from her symphonia sometime the evening before. The well-worn sofa groans when he sits to don his boots.

The sequence is the same most mornings, but memories still haunt Nesta in these moments of ease, phantoms skulking about in her periphery. It’s hard to forget how she used to wake all at once, like an arrow shot through the morning air, to the cacophony of her mother screeching at a house servant. Or else the horrible quiet that followed, the dense void of her absence.

She woke mustily in the summer in the hovel they called home, the drone of insects and the rank, still air, Elain’s trowel piercing the earth under the windowsill. In colder months there was nothing but the roar of the wind, whistles through the chinks, the grind of her own teeth from trying not to shiver.

All of it was better than waking in the dead of night to Feyre’s pleading, heavy thuds of the clubs and bone crunching, their father’s wretched silence. Then years later the door splintering, the growling of a great beast.

At the funeral for her old life she woke to the rip of curtains around her bed, shouts and taunts as they yanked her drowsy and disoriented from the sheets, from the manor, from her body. Then the fatal press of water in her ears, poison boiling, her own choked snarls of rage.

After that came a long series of mornings that were not actually mornings at all, afternoons when she rose sticky with sweat, a pounding headache like war drums rattling her skull. Days she prayed to stop hearing the snap of her father’s neck in the fire, the ghosts of the past wailing for retribution. Nights when solace lived only in the shuffle of cards, the glug of wine into a waiting glass. The moans of another faceless male.

Yet even in the darkness there was music. Ever since she was a girl, a tune plays at the edge of her dreams that she can’t quite catch, can never quite remember. Always the same, always soft and close, as if someone lays beside her, filling her with safety and peace.

Now the world is quiet, within and without. Nesta barely notices she’s drifted back into sleep, so she’s surprised when heavy footsteps approach her side of the bed. There’s a clink when the House places a cup and saucer on the bedside table, tea she knows will stay perfectly warm until she’s ready to rise herself. Her legs shift, whispering against the sheets as they search for the heated spot Cassian always leaves behind.

“You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, brushing stray hairs from her forehead. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

She hears the smile in his voice, the tenderness he saves just for her. The kisses he drops on her face are like the patter of spring rain, his rumbling laugh the answering thunder when she presses her cheek against his lips so she can really feel them.

Her fae ears pick up conversation in the hallway, Azriel and Gwyn either coming or going, though it’s impossible to tell which. Cassian’s leathers creak as he sits up but she feels him linger there, the rasp of a calloused hand stroking up and down her back. 

“I hope you have a good day. I love you.”

He traces the point of her ear, tugging lightly at the lobe before he stands and his footsteps retreat. Then the snick of the door, their friends greeting him on the landing, Emerie’s voice now joining the chorus.

She doesn’t ever want to stop listening to this, Nesta thinks, these sounds of home. Dawn chases away the phantoms and no one screeches or pleads or drowns in silence. All is in harmony, now the music of her life feels worth waking to hear.

In the moment before her eyes open, a tune floats by from the edge of her dreams, the same one Cassian was humming. It sounds as if someone is beside her in bed, soft, and close.

[lewmagoo]

Turn on and fantasy for Rhett (MDM if we're feeling specific) 👀👀

always down to talk about my favorite silver haired daddy 🤭

what turns them on?

god, when it comes to you, everything is a turn on for him. i think that domesticity really gets him going. it starts out perfectly innocent. perhaps you’re making him dinner or you’re folding laundry, or even helping him out with ranch work. truly the most mundane things imaginable. and he’ll stop to admire you during those moments. you look so effortlessly beautiful. so at ease. so content. and he’s filled with such love and adoration. but it also translates into desire, because he finds you so attractive in everyday moments. he’s been known to bend you over the kitchen table or the washing machine, and fuck you right then and there. he will never not be turned on by your mere existence.

fantasy — do they have any sexual fantasies they'd like to try out? have they ever gotten to act on a sexual fantasy?

before you, rhett never really acted on his most secret fantasies. it isn’t that he didn’t know what he liked or wanted. it’s just that he never felt comfortable enough to express what he truly desired. and then you came along and opened up this world of endless possibilities. you were able to explore so many things together. he always fantasized about partaking in a full time dom/sub dynamic, and you’ve happily obliged in that. he is also really into roleplay fantasies! professor/student, doctor/patient, so on and so forth. i’ve gotta expand on this in future fics about him because whew 🥵

[reidsaurora]

"With You, I'd Dance" ~ L. Alvez

Summary: When the last rainstorm of the year comes upon Washington DC, there's only one person you'd want to spend it with.

Pairing: Luke Alvez x GN!Reader

Word Count: 579

Content Warning: mild swearing, other than that it's just super fluffy <3

Extra Notes: when in doubt, name it after a Taylor Swift lyric

Originally Written: 10/19/2023 through 10/30/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

As soon as the slightest pitter-patter of raindrops started to fall on your balcony, you were jumping up from your couch and running to grab your coat.

Luke's soft chuckle floated through the room, filling your ears with a sound that you would play on repeat if it were possible. "Where are you going?"

"To play in the rain," you answered, shoving on your rain boots.

He jumped up from his spot on the sofa defensively. "Woah, babe, are you crazy? It's freezing out there. You'll catch a cold in seconds."

You simply shook your head, zipping up your coat and heading for the balcony. "It's the last true rainfall before snow starts. I'm not wasting it."

"Baby-"

You were already sliding open the glass door. "Luke, you can either bundle up and come catch a cold with me, or you can stay in here and watch your silly little sports team get their asses kicked."

He met you with narrowed eyes, his hands settling on his hips in exasperation. "They're just having a bad season," he grumbled, grabbing his coat from the rack.

A triumphant smile flashed across your face as Luke followed you outside, frowning as raindrops hit his face. Contrastingly, you were grinning as the water dripped down your own face, spinning around and taking it all in.

"How is this enjoyable?" he questioned, though a smile had plastered itself to his lips.

"See, this is why they say opposites attract," you rebutted. "One man's rain is another person's sunshine."

Luke chuckled, hands meeting your hips and pulling you in close. "And that's why you're always catching colds this time of year."

"I don't mind. No better feeling when you get to enjoy the beauty of a rainstorm," you replied, a content sigh following the words. "Dance with me?"

One of his hands moved from your waist to your hand, your fingers linking like puzzle pieces. His chin rested on the top of your head, his touch enveloping you like the warmest blanket. The rain cascaded around the two of you like a bubble, drowning out the rest of the world until it was just you and him.

"Sing for me?" you asked quietly, as if speaking too loud would shatter the protective dome you'd built for yourselves.

Luke huffed in fake annoyance, but still did as told, beginning to hum out a familiar tune he was constantly singing to you, despite his endless reminders that he couldn't sing. "When my time comes around," the familiar Hozier lyrics rumbled out of him softly, "lay me gently in the cold dark earth."

You met his gaze as your bodies swayed back and forth, cheeks heating as he reached your favorite lyric of the chorus. "No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her."

Your heart swelled with adoration and joy as he spun you around, lyrics being whispered into your ear like secrets, Luke's warmth breath fanning across your skin. The rain slowly came to a halt, but you continued being held in his embrace, perfectly content to stay in the light of the cloudy sky forever if you were allowed.

His lips met your forehead as he pulled you in closer, muscular arms wrapping around you in a cozy hug. "In case you needed a reminder, you're the only person I'll gladly stand in a rainstorm with."

"In case you needed a reminder, you're the only person I'd want out here with me."

So sorry this is just now getting posted! My week has been far busier than I anticipated when I first planned this event but I am working hard to get everything written so it will be posted in time for Halloween! Thank you all for being patient with me as I navigate through all this! ❤️

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @danielle143 @esposadomd @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @cynbx @lukeclvez

[boohaitani]

my baseball nerd | miyuki kazuya x reader

summary: in which kazuya is just being the baseball nerd he is

word count: about 500

just fluff <33

The sound of the television filled the room as Kazuya sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the baseball game playing out on the screen. Y/N joined him, curious about the intensity in his gaze as he watched every pitch and analyzed every play.

"Kazuya, you're such a baseball nerd," she teased, nudging him playfully.

He turned to her with a mischievous smile, not taking his eyes off the game. "Well, Y/N, it's not every day you get to witness the brilliance of the game firsthand. There's so much strategy, technique, and skill involved. It's fascinating."

Y/N chuckled, leaning closer to him. "I'll never understand your obsession with baseball, but I do love seeing your passion for it. You light up when you talk about the game."

Kazuya's eyes twinkled with excitement. "It's more than just a game, Y/N. It's a beautiful dance between the pitcher and the batter, a battle of wits and athleticism. Each pitch holds the potential for greatness or disappointment. And as a catcher, I get a front-row seat to all of it."

Y/N leaned back against the couch, crossing her arms playfully. "I suppose I should consider myself lucky to have a baseball nerd for a boyfriend. At least you'll always have something to talk about."

Kazuya's grin widened as he turned to her, his eyes filled with enthusiasm. "Oh, Y/N, you have no idea. I could talk about baseball for hours. The strategies, the statistics, the rivalries—it's endless. And I won't hesitate to educate you on the intricacies of the game."

She rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation. "Please, spare me the baseball lectures. I might just fall asleep."

He pretended to be offended, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Fall asleep? My passionate discussions about baseball are riveting, Y/N. I promise you won't be able to tear your eyes away."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, Kazuya, I'll humor you. Just don't be too disappointed when I start daydreaming about other things."

He feigned shock, his eyes widening. "How dare you? Baseball should be the only thing occupying your mind at all times!"

Their banter continued throughout the game, with Kazuya passionately explaining various plays and Y/N playfully teasing him about his obsession. It was a familiar dance between them, a playful back-and-forth that brought joy and laughter to their relationship.

As the game reached its climax, Kazuya's excitement grew, his eyes never leaving the screen. Y/N watched him, marveling at his childlike enthusiasm and unwavering dedication to the sport he loved.

"You know," she said, breaking the playful banter for a moment, "your passion for baseball is one of the things I love about you. It's a part of who you are, and I wouldn't change it for the world."

Kazuya turned to her, a soft smile on his face. "And your acceptance of my baseball nerdiness is one of the things I love about you. You embrace all parts of me, even the ones that might seem a little strange."

Y/N leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Well, someone has to keep you grounded, right?"

He chuckled, his eyes still glinting with excitement. "I suppose you're right. And who knows, maybe one day you'll find yourself caught up in the magic of baseball too."

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Never say never, Kazuya. With you by my side, anything is possible."

[yoki-doki-then]

FFXIV Write 2024 - S T E E R

With half-lidded red eyes, Zazamato stares down at his daughter as she retches aetheric white, doubled over on the ground. "This will pass," he says, bare thumb brushing over the sharp edges of an indigo gem he keeps nestled in his palm. Within its translucent purple is the starry nights of the heavens above, filled with the same endless possibilities "You'll get used to it. Your body will adjust. We are Lalafells. We work doubly hard for the benefits others are gifted." He paces, slow footfalls echoing in the tiny stone chamber. His daughter smiles through the pain. It's a strange thing to see, someone doing everything in their power to put forth that joy, to draw it from the heart despite all the pins drawing blood. Her eyes, red as his, twinkle with commitment. Short half-breaths pump air into her aching lungs as she staggers to her feet, wiping hot sweat and cold condensation both from her brow with a sticky palm. "Right," she starts. "Right!" she concludes. "I just-" "Fire. One of the most basic expressions of thaumaturgy. Anyone can grasp it." He eyes her reaction. "I'm shocked you can't." Somehow, the girl doesn't flinch. "You've aetheric might to spare. A boundless bastion of capability that should make fire of all things the simplest expression of your energy. Surely you can expend it towards this?" "I can!" Zazamato's daughter pleads. "Then prove it."

He sighs, the same tired process beginning for the twenty-second time. One shouldn't take so much effort to surmount the equivalent of a roadside curb for an obstacle. But no. Somehow, his daughter is going to fail to impress him once again. As he focuses more on the gleaming stone clutched in hand, he's gifted secret visions of her body's magic working. It's normally a beautiful thing to watch, to witness natural energy flowing through all living things, to see it ushered towards any purpose. In the aetheric world, the mere flexing of an arm was as beautiful as the grandest magic, all being catalogued as information before spectacle. Yet somehow his daughter's body manages to be ugly here.

Clogged. It's the best word he can come up for it. Aether burns in her body as any normal mage would command, but it does not breathe out. It cannot exhale, cannot burn. There was a hope that through enough practice -- frankly, enough suffering -- that it would find (or create) a way out of her unusual walls. She'd be better for it. She'd be whole if she could just push past being only his child. No, though. Attempt twenty-two fails. And as he watches her collapse, the simple truth sets in that twenty-three, twenty-four, and twenty-whatever will fail too. He'd have more luck setting a hound in the same room as a fresh kill and commanding it to starve. His spawn wouldn't suffice for this. "Enough." "D-Dad," she groans back at him, swallowing. "Father. It's not-" "We're done." He watches the disappointment in her eyes for as long as he can bear, then pushes down the paternal instinct once he feels it tighten a fist so firm his skin might cut on his rock's edges. "All right," she says, staggering up again. She shoves her pale bangs back, so wet with effort they naturally stick to the top of her head. Well, matching her repeat failures, some traitors fall back down to be as a torn curtain for her brow. "... Tomorrow, then?" Zazamato turns from her altogether, gaze falling down to the pebble. As he glides it into a pocket, he shakes his head. "Are you busy tomorrow?" his daughter asks. "We can..." Her words fade into nothing as he walks away.

[judyfromfinance]

Olden Times. Modern Thinking.

(Heimdall/Modern!Reader)

Summary: You know things you’re not supposed to. You behave oddly. And the way you speak is even odder. Kratos, Mimir, and Atreus have no idea if they should believe your ramblings of another world and of a future they have no way of knowing is real. But, you seem harmless enough. Plus, Faye may rise from her grave if they let a poor woman freeze to death in their forest, right outside their home no less.

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 4

This new world you found yourself in was so vast, and so so terrifying at the same time. Beautiful but other worldly. Like it shouldn’t be real and yet here you are. Witnessing it with your own eyes. You were walking along the spindly branches of the world tree as you followed Sindri to his home. You stared out into the vast periwinkle void and you could’ve sworn you felt something stare back. You think back to your earlier thoughts. Beautiful yet terrifying. Lovecraftian in a sense, but some of his work was based off of Norse mythology so I guess calling something Lovecraftian that existed before him and even may have given him inspiration was just not right. But hey, it made sense in your head.

After Atreus came back in from his talk with Odin, Kratos showed up a couple of minutes after. They got into a slight argument, as they tend to do, and then Kratos decided that it was best to see what had gotten his boy so wrapped up that it would cause him to lie to his own father. But of course that left you, a mortal that could barely use a sword and could definitely not scale cliffs as easily as the two gods before you. “I can just stay here if you want?” Kratos just shook his before continuing to think. “They might come after you again.” He stated. You shook slightly at the thought. Atreus looked at with concern but you saw a twinkle of something else. Curiosity. He took a couple of cautious steps towards you. “Why were they here? What did they talk about?” He questioned. You knew what he really wanted to ask though. What could those gods possibly want with you? And again, just like when you first met them, you told them the truth.

“They think that I can help them prevent Ragnarök somehow.” You turned on your heel as you paced back and forth. You looked back up at them with a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t know how they knew but they knew! They knew I wasn’t from here. I don’t know exactly how much they know because our conversation didn’t get that far.” You think back to your fear ridden self. Your first thought was to get out of there. Not about possibly getting answers of your own. “I don’t know why they would think that but… I don’t know… I’m just really confused right now. I’m sorry.” You mutter softly. You felt like a burden. Not only are you slightly messing up the timeline, though they don’t know that, but you can’t even help them with their problems. They saved your life. They fed you. They clothed you. They gave you a warm bed and helped teach you about this land and all you can say is ‘I don’t know’ and ‘I’m sorry.’ Maybe… maybe you should finally tell them. But how would you even go about explaining it. ‘Hey your whole life’s a video game for other people’s entertainment!’ just wouldn’t cut it. As your mind began to spiral you heard a soft spoken voice speak up.

“She’ll be safe at our house.” Everyone turns to look at the dwarf in the doorway. Sindri smiled and waved. “All of you are welcome actually. You probably need a new place to lay your heads since this one is… well…” he looked towards the hole in the roof. “Compromised. Heh.”

And that’s what lead you to know. Walking through this mystical looking void, trying desperately not to peek over the edges of the branches. The thought of tumbling over your own feet and falling to your death in an endless void making you sick to your stomach. Sindri turns back around to you and starts up a conversation. “Me and my brother don’t often have visitors so this will be new and exciting. Hopefully? Just uh… wipe your feet off before you enter. If you can?” You nod your head in acknowledgment. “Yea I can do that. I can leave my shoes at the front door if you want? Don’t really need them inside tracking mud and melted snow anyways.” He stops before you, hands on his hips and a slight smile on his face. “That’s actually a great idea. I should implement that. Thank you!” You giggle before gasping in shock. A bright white light in the shape of a door appears before you. Sindri ushers you forward as you slowly push yourself through the mist. It felt tingly. Like when you scrub your sock covered feet against the carpet and go to poke at someone. But instead it’s all over your body. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s quite shocking nonetheless. Sindri follows behind you.

“By they way, I think we may have found some items that belong to you.” You furrowed your brow. Confused on what he could have that might belong to you. “What do you mean?” He goes to open the door of his grand treehouse. Taking off his heavy duty boots as he continued, “Well Atreus told me a lot about you. How you may not be of this world and well, Brok and I have found some…” he swallows as he tilts his head. “Unusual items on some of our scavenging expeditions. So I’m just assuming here.” He turns quickly towards you with his hands raised high as you unbuckle your boots. “Of course I could be wrong so if I am I apologize for over stepping.” You place your boots next to his as you wave your hand at him. “Don’t worry about it dude. It’s fine. But I’d like to see them if you don’t mind.” He nods before another burly voice interrupts him.

“So you’re that weird mortal girl they found on deaths doorstep.” Brok looks you up and down behind his smithing station and huffs. “Yea, you look like you wouldn’t be able to survive a greasy warthog tooting at ya, let alone Fimbulwinter.” Sindri gasps before turning to you. “I am so sorry. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Like hell I did!” You couldn’t stop the laughter as it burst forth. You grasped your knees as your stomach started to ache. Honestly, what he said wasn’t even that funny but you couldn’t help but feel a slight weight be lifted off of you at his strange behavior and odd idioms. You calmed down before apologizing. “I’m sorry, that was just…” you shook your head as you tried to find words to describe your thoughts. “I don’t know man, that was just fucking funny I guess.” Sindri looked appalled at your foul language as Brok bellowed out a laugh not to dissimilar from your own. “I like this one. Well come on then! We haven’t got all day, you wanna see those odd contraptions or not?” You nod enthusiastically as you make your way over to him. He bends down and grabs a big wooden box. “I can tell one of them is a bag but it’s definitely an odd looking one. Don’t know what’s in it. Didn’t care enough to open it and the other one?” He just shrugs. “Fuck if I know what that damn thing is. It gets bright sometimes that’s all I know.” You nodded as you opened the box.

“Oh my god! It’s all my shit! Holy fuck thank you! How did it even get here? Where did y’all find it?” You shouted in shock and awe. Brok laughed his ass off as Sindri sighed. “Do you always speak like that?” You nod your head but apologized to him anyways. This was his home after all. You grab your pink and blue Little Twin Stars mini backpack. It had dirt smudges everywhere and a couple of claw marks. Looked like an animal tried to get into it but gave up halfway. It wasn’t as pristine as you usually kept it back at home but it was here! In your hands! You push it to the sides for now. As you look into the box and swiped your phone. You could cry. It was your phone! Fuck what everyone else said about the evils of material goods in the modern world. You spent good, hard earned money on these things. Of course you’re gonna enjoy them! You’re a material girl in a material world and that’s all you’ll ever wanna be. And you won’t feel sorry about it either. You turned your phone over and looked at the the pink Cardcaptor Sakura phone case. You looked at your phone charms dangling on the side. Toro Inoue and Pipimi and Popuko. They were dirty but fine. You then look towards the screen. Sadly it was cracked. Starting from the left corner down to about halfway down the screen in a spiderweb like fashion. Thankfully though, you had a screen protector. Your iPhone recognized your face as it opened up and you were bombarded with notifications from all of your apps. You began going through them, not even giving a second thought to how your phone is possibly working here at all. Sindri and Brok flanked both sides of you as they watched your fingers slide across the screen. Moving bright little boxes with words they couldn’t understand. Brok, starting to get restless, slapped your shoulder and asked “What the hel is that thing?” Sindri nodded, “I would very much like to know too.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry. I just got really excited. Um…” you try to think of a way to explain what a phone is to people that don’t even know what technology is. “How do I put this? This is a phone. It allows me to contact people from far away. So say I was here with you guys and let’s say Atreus was all the way across Midgard right and he uh, he also had one of these. We would be able to talk to each other no problem.” Now that you’re hearing yourself out loud you cringe a bit. Describing how things worked or what things did was never your forte. If anyone back at home were to ask you to explain anything you’d hit them with a “I don’t know. Google it.” Sadly, you can’t really do that here. And you can tell that you explanation wasn’t all that great as they still looked confused.

“How does that work? And how can you control all those things with your fingers? Can it do anything else? One day it stated to make a, in my opinion, grating noise. Why did it do that?” Sindri just piled on question after question. And you felt bad because you didn’t know if you’d be able to answer all of them. Brok noticing your exasperation slapped Sindri on the back as he moved around the table. “Give the girl some room. You starting to sound like an ingreased cog.” Sindri stumbled forward as he turned to glare at Brok. “Ow.” He huffed before Turing back towards you. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head and smiled. “No need to apologize. I get it. It’s something new and interesting. You want to know more about it and I don’t blame you. But even though this is mine I don’t know how everything in it works. I just know that it does.” He shuffles forward towards a small door. “I understand. Here, this used to be a broom closet but we renovated it slightly to be a room. I know it’s not the best thing in the world but it’s a place to lay your head.” You peek into the room with a smile on your face. Definitely still is a broom closet if the mop in the corner was anything to go by. But the bed on the other size of the room that seemed to be the perfect size for you was nothing to sneeze at. “It’s perfect Sindri. Thank you.” You turn towards Brok. “And thank you too.” You grab your backpack and the bag you brought with you from the cabin and set them right next to your bed. You turn towards the door and looked at the Huldra brothers with a fond smile.

“I hope you don’t mind but I think I’m gonna sleep for a bit. It’s been a pretty eventful day.” Brok nodded before leaving. You can hear the sound of hammering start back up on the other side of the wall. Sindri smiles, “Of course.” He goes to close the door before peeking his head back in and saying a quick, “Sweet dreams.” He blushes before slamming the door closed. You hear him mutter something before scampering away. Brok lets put a hefty laugh, making fun of his brother’s embarrassment. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. You hear Sindri leave through the front door. Most likely to bring Kratos and Atreus back to their newfound home. You bring your phone back up to your face. And open it. You click on an app that you know all too well. As you scroll through all the different fanart of the very same characters that you are sharing a home with your struck with the sudden fear that your gonna have to come up with some way to help these people. You can’t let any of them die. But again, what can a mortal do amongst gods? You have the advantage of knowing what is going to happen and when. But how good is that when these gods can easily over power you and kill you. You have to tell them. You have to tell them everything. They’ll be able to help you come up with a game plan. You sigh as you turn off your phone and turn to your side. Staring at the stationary mop and bucket of water. You just hope that Kratos will listen to you. You hope that they all will. And maybe, maybe they won’t be mad. God help you.

Sorry this took so long y’all. My sisters been letting me use her pc and I’ve been playing Stardew Valley with a bunch of different mods and loving it! There’s a mod that make Toshinori Yagi a marriageable character and AAAAAAA I love him. Anyways hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Let me know what y’all think in the tags or the comments. Thank you~

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[s-t-a-c-y-y-y]

Dog of Chaos - Part 1

Chikn stared into the void, processing everything that had happened within the last few hours. His anger from being rejected by his friends led him to transform everyone and everything into abstract, incomprehensible shapes. There wasn't a single ounce of joy left inside of the deity, and the only emotions that remained were guilt, shame, and an endless supply of dread. The whimsical music that once filled his world was now replaced with pure silence. The silence was so deafening to Chikn that it pierced his long ears like needles.

Suddenly, out of the silence, Chikn heard a familiar giggle. It was Bezel, the embodiment of time and the seemingly innocent Clock-faced being that he was naive enough to view as a guardian.

"Ha! Look what you've done, my friend!" Bezel jeered. "Oh boy, you should've seen the look on your face! The drama! The chaos! Oh my, it was beautiful!"

Chikn didn't respond, nor did he even look at Bezel. He continued staring into the void, pretending that Bezel wasn't even there. Still, Bezel approached the dog-like god, not even caring much about his emotions.

"Oh, don't be sad, buddy!" Bezel said to Chikn while stroking his head. "Maybe this will cheer you up!" Out of nowhere, Bezel grabbed out a half-empty bag of popcorn. He had been eating out of it while he watched Chikn unleash his wrath upon the world. "I've got leftovers!" Bezel giggled as he waved a piece of popcorn in front of Chikn's face.

Still, Chikn didn't respond.

Bezel started to get frustrated. "Listen, Chikn. You should be happy that this happened! You should be glad that you finally got to use your godly powers to your biggest potential! You should be PROUD!" Bezel tried to sound as motivational as possible.

"Proud?" Chikn said in an enraged tone. "I should be PROUD?"

"Woah, there, buddy!" Bezel yelped. "There's no need to bark at me like that! How rude!"

Chikn was looking directly at Bezel's face. Bezel had seen Chikn angry before, but this was the first time the anger was directed at him. It was truly terrifying. Still, Bezel tried not to show his fear to the deity. After all, dogs can detect fear. Well, that's what Bezel thought. Despite being the god of time itself, Bezel was about as bright as a digital watch with a broken screen.

"I'm not proud!" Chikn roared. "I ruined my friend's lives without them even knowing it! I destroyed everything and everyone that I've ever loved and ever known! I'm NOT proud! I'm ashamed of myself! I'm a LOSER!" Chikn's anger had led to a ring of fire developing around him and Bezel.

Bezel turned his back to Chikn. "You don't understand, do you?" Bezel whispered to Chikn. "I set this up! Your world was so boring before! It was just the same jokes repeated over and over and over again! You can only laugh at the same jokes so many times! It was HORRIBLE! I HATED IT!"

Chikn couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'You hated seeing me happy?" Chikn asked.

"Not just that, bird-dog!" Bezel hollered. "I realized how un-special everything was. I wished there was a way to fix it, and then it hit me!" Bezel continued rambling on, pacing back and forth in front of the confused and irate Chikn. "I came to your world to get you and everyone else in your world into finally doing something interesting for once, and guess what? IT WORKED! I finally enjoyed it, and so many others behind the fourth dimension did as well! It was a spectacle! The trauma, the drama, the horror, everything about it was great! You became so much better than your boring old self! That's why you should be proud!"

Chikn was trembling with rage. He loved the way life was before Bezel arrived, and apparently, people hated that. How was that a bad thing? He didn't understand. He just couldn't help but let out the loudest, most anguished scream he had ever let out. He roared as his body transformed into an abstract mess of shapes and colors. It was so unbelievable that even Bezel didn't want to look at it.

What happened after? Well, stay tuned...

[subjectivemortality]

(Did I send this? You know I gottaa )🕯️

//YOU GOTTA

I've lived a very long time and also...a really short amount of time, comparatively. Sometimes I feel so young, just trying to wrap my head around the world, around myself. We joke sometimes, robbing the cradle/robbing the grave, but Tolya has always felt older than me in a way that's hard to explain. Not just older in years but in...inevitability? Like when I was born (or created, or just appeared into existence, whatever you want to go with) the first thread of my life was already leading me to where they would eventually be, their existence and their impact on me a beautiful foregone conclusion.

Well, I guess that's not so far-fetched when you see the future the way that I do. That's how everything works, really, but with them it feels... Real. It feels like the fanciful version of destiny, the hand of something bigger than we are guiding me to them.

It's been a gift to witness how they've grown (literally and figuratively, forgive the plant puns - their influence on me again) since meeting them. They've always been capable, courageous, a force of nature to be reckoned with, but seeing them bloom in it? It's beautiful. I want to shout from every rooftop how incredible they are, but more than that I want to see them shouting it, claiming that and knowing how true it is. I want them to feel how deeply the people around them admire them, how much they're loved. It's a work in progress.

I keep having this vision that I go back and forth on worrying about, mostly the ending. Their roots eventually get to a point of spreading so far, so deep that the network no longer has that heartbeat at the center of it, because there is no center really. Just like the earth, like everything, their being is an endless series of connections with no clear beginning or end, a cycle. In the vision I ask what my name is (just one of their countless roots, infinite branches that can't possibly all be individually named but yet aren't the same anymore either) and I can't remember it, can't remember even having had a name. And it's not discomforting, but almost peaceful. Just a fact, the same way that there is dirt between my fingers and rain somewhere and drought somewhere else. The sunlight still shines, the soil still rots, and being unnamed feels like nothing.

It could be metaphorical rather than actual - there are plenty of visions where that's the case. Or it could just be that I'm not sleeping again, and I've developed a habit of maladaptive daydreaming.

Either way.

I hope they know that I'm going to love them, no matter who or what we both become.

[its-in-the-woods]

Poetry sort of deals with mental health, slf-hrm, Su!c!dal thoughts, grief, depression, and rebirth. Lots of introspection. If you like it's under the tab

Empty houses

There is no way to understand the grief of losing a future. No one can understand the pain of watching everything you've built be pulled away. The pain of seeing your world crumble around you. One moment your life is full of promise, your job is hard but fulfilling, it has a purpose and your future is bright.

Then as you drive home, the same way you do almost every day, it's all gone.

A white blur, the sound of crunching plastic and metal. The scream rips from your throat as you are pushed across the road. Woke to smoke and a crumbled car, the door barely opening, airbags having left a mark. You can feel where the seat belt has cut into you. A person yelling at you to get out of the car. The sun is so bright. The air is too thin. You ask if they are okay. But you are forced to sit. Body shaking as you tell your partner it's not good.

It will get better. That's what they say. But it doesn't. Day by day moment by moment slowly fades. The pieces that you had slowly built are now tattered all around you. A spoon digging into your insides until there is nothing left. A hollowed-out shell of what used to be you. Confidence, caring, happiness, easygoing, and loving, are ripped away. Instead, your brain is trying desperately to stay alive, days, weeks, months left blank. You fight and claw trying to find something, anything that can make you feel whole.

Life moves on without you. Your home is sold, you thought you'd grow old in. The place you nurtured and loved. The place that held so much laughter and love. Your partner trying to just keep a roof over your head. Everything hurts. But it doesn't hurt as much as watching them leave the only place they knew as home. Watch them build callouses over their heart as they keep you safe. Watching them do everything they can to keep you here.

Waking up now means anxiety, heart hammering, mind racing, your breath locked up to the point you think you'll never breathe again. The days were a muted grey haze. Going through the motions that feel so pointless. The world you always loved is broken down into a series of steps. All you long for is rest. Death is so easy. To just sleep, to not have to face the morning light. To not have to deal with the constant wonder, the constant pain, the brutality that nothing matters. No one is coming to save you. You're on your own. There is nothing else. Death's warm embrace is always on the edge of your mind. How nice it would be to close your eyes and not feel anymore. To drift into the emptiness that is now all you feel. To just let it all go. Would anyone even care if you were gone?

A small spark deep inside what you feared would never be repaired. A fire flicks on the edges, trying to let you see. Trying desperately to tell you that you are going to make it. That world will have color again, and you will feel things you thought were lost forever. That this place that feels nothing like home will be home. That the love of your life will smile again. That they will laugh again. That you will laugh again. That you will love and feel. That it's not over. Not yet. Death is always there. But it isn't your time. Their warm embrace is not for you. It's for what you were. You were something. Something that burnt up in the flames of a fiery car wreck that nearly stole your whole life. But you can be something again. You can rebuild. You can come out of the fire. Even when the forest burns new life is reborn. Pushing through the blackened ash-soaked corpse life springs forth. What is more beautiful than seeing something destroyed be remade. Be remade into something different but you. You are still there, that hollowed-out shell held onto what you used to be. What spring forward is what you can be. The endless possibilities are right in your hands.

You may never been who you thought you'd be. That future branched away into something you can't touch anymore. The future you hold now is endless. It's a bright open and the possibilities are at your fingers. You just have to let the fire ignite so you can fly free into the new growth of a fresh day. A fresh future. A new you. Like nothing you could have ever imagined.

[trendingtattoo]

Best Birthdate Tattoo Idea for your special day

Birthdates are more than just numbers on a calendar; they mark the incredible day you entered the world. A birthdate tattoo is a unique way to commemorate your arrival and personalize your body art. But with endless design possibilities, where do you begin? Look no further, ladies!

Here are 5 Birthdate Tattoo Ideas to celebrate your special day

1.Classic and Chic Birthdate Tattoo

For a timeless and elegant look, consider Roman numerals for your birthdate. This minimalist approach adds a touch of sophistication and allows the date to speak for itself. Placement options are versatile; on your wrist, ankle, or behind your ear for a subtle touch.

2.Floral Flair Birthdate Tattoo

Birthdates intertwined with delicate floral elements create a beautiful and feminine design. Choose flowers with personal meaning, like your birth flower tattoo or a favorite bloom. This design adds a touch of nature's elegance and allows for customization based on your preferred flower and style.

3.Roman Numeral Birthdate Tattoo

Roman numeral birthdate tattoos are a classic and elegant way to commemorate your arrival on the world. Simple and versatile, they use roman numerals to represent your birthdate, offering a timeless look that can be placed anywhere on your body.

4.Minimalist Magic Birthdate Tattoo

Sometimes, less is truly more. A single, delicate line etched in a subtle location with your birthdate discreetly inscribed can be incredibly personal and meaningful. This design is perfect for those who prefer a minimalist aesthetic and a reminder close to their heart.

5.Coordinate Chronicles Birthdate Tattoo

Did you enter the world in a place that holds special significance? Capture the memory with a tattoo of the coordinates of your birthplace. This design is a unique way to commemorate your roots and the place where your story began.

Remember, the most meaningful birthdate tattoo is the one that resonates with you. Choose a design that reflects your personality, style, and the significance you hold for your special day. So go forth, celebrate your arrival, and get inked with a birthdate tattoo that tells your story!

[eliduremaybe]

My brother is an ocean.

My brother is an ocean.

it's important to me that you understand. I need to someone to understand this.

We were raised together, you know? Two little kids, so alike we could have been twins, we used to sit by the sea wall and catch crabs. Pieces of scrappy bacon on lengths of string, a bucket of seawater between us, flat on our stomachs to see over the side, leaping back to avoid sudden spray from the waves below.

I can see it now, through the heavy coating of nostalgia. Rose-painted and perfect. Two siblings by the sea wall, staring out as the sailing ships came in.

We were excitement and noise and curiosity of the worst kind - forever getting in the way, making mess, causing trouble together. We called ourselves twins, and laughed at our own private jokes.

I first learnt to sail sitting at the foot of my older sister's bed. It could have been morning, or early afternoon, or one of those timeless moments of the summer when the minutes and hours spill over and multiply. But I remember how the sunlight glinted off imagined waves, and I remember the sense of possibility and potential the first time she let me take the tiller.

I learned how to steer on that boat, guiding our invisible rudder back and forth against the currents of her bedroom floor. She told me ow to get salt from seawater, just incase we got stranded on a non-existant island. Because dehydration might start causing problems within a couple of days, but heaven forbid we eat our freshly caught fish unseasoned.

But my first memories on the water were with my brother. Our sunshine boat, the two of us sitting up in the front, giggling and arguing, and shrieking when the waves got too close. My mother was a good sailor.

When we were older, it was a bigger boat. Still with the three of us - I was only seven or eight, and my brother a year and a half younger. We'd come off the water shivering and chattering and feeling so important, rushing to peel ourselves out of wetsuits and into dry clothes.

My brother and I sailed together for a while after that. Just the two of us. We were the terror of the seas - or one of them, at least - uncoordinated and ungainly, slow moving, sail flapping, laughing to hard to pay attention to the stability of the hull as we lurched downwind. A tiny boat trailing drunkenly at the back of the fleet, childish voices rising high above the water. We were the best of friends.

Soon we were racing each other. Separate boats, neck and neck, near the top of our very small fleet. It was a friendly sort of competitivity - the two of us against all of them - because if he was winning, then it felt like I had won too.

He was daring, adventurous, fearless. I was careful, precise, accurate. All the while, the ocean: endless.

I remember one evening so vividly. The wind was stronger than usual. I could feel it pulling at my hair, filling my sail, tugging the sheet just slightly harder than I was used to. It was cold. Salt spray, dark sky, churning sea. Sunbeams like dirty gold, barely breaking through the cloud cover.

It was impossible and beautiful, but it was real and a little bit terrifying too. A gleeful sort of exhaustion, a world of my own, a moment that I wished would never end.

And it didn't end. Or: not exactly. Not for a while, at any rate.

We drifted. Apart, together, in different directions, whatever. It happens to all of us, right? Doesn't have to mean that it's forever.

Summer passed us by, swinging from the railings by the harbour, waiting for the tide all dressed up and ready to go. Clambering over capsized kayaks in the shallows at the end of the day, cannonballing off the sea wall when none of the adults were watching. Racing and out of breath, too preoccupied to notice the passing of time. Stumbling inside late into the evening with numb fingers and hair that was windswept and crisp with sea salt.

Summer passed us by.

October, November, December. Things changed and they stayed the same. Coming home to damp sailing kit draped over every surface, the heating turned off, rooms freezing cold. The smell of sweat and seaweed and worse. Dried-salt stickiness and that clammy, tacky feeling whenever you touched something.

Shivering, soaked, freezing cold, with watery hot chocolate that burned my hands, and nothing but a damp towel and half a sandwich waiting for me to get changed.

I stopped sailing. My brother didn't. He started sailing more.

Car journeys starting at 6am, so that he could be at the 10am briefing, in a sailing club a three hour drive away from home.

Weekends chewed up and spat out again in shredded sea water, sleep deprivation and hours whiled away in aimlessness until it was time to go home again.

Sitting in cold damp sailing club after cold damp sailing club, while the sun set and my brother messed around without me, and every person I spoke to seemed like a reminder that I wasn't a part of this anymore.

It was my choice. It was my fault.

I loved him, though, my brother. I need you to know that. There was never a moment when I didn't. Even when he was acting like a stupid fucking twat.

My mother informs me that I was "hostile" and "insanely jealous", which is a really normal way to refer to your then teenage child, but it does describe as much about that relationship as anyone needs to know.

I miss my brother.

He is a part of my life that I can't reach anymore. A part of my home, and the freedom that I once found in salt spray and ocean waves. One that I allowed to slip through my fingers.

One that I let go of, consciously, because it became the only choice I could make. I can't regret it, but it was only a year ago that I realised the cost.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that I'll never sail again.

My brother pretends that I don't exist, these days.

[zorkaya-moved]

"Lady Zarina.. you have lived many a great lives, yes? I'm a bit curious to ask.. what sort of things you have seen during your long lifetime?"

@etherealguard

If only Dan Heng knew what he was asking for. The fifty thousand years (and far more, actually) could not be explained in a short summary. There were countless of possibilities, countless of varieties, countless of things happening here and there. The loss of friends, of families, of the whole era. Zarina could remember almost giving in to the Herrscher consciousness that took away HIMEKO and took away Klein. She could still remember the pain her body experienced when the change happened, the blackout, the eyes opened, and then certain clarity only when pain would penetrate her body again. On the surgical table, Mobius and MEI with tools needed to experiment on a first live Herrscher they could get their hands on. A quiet apology before a soft-spoken farewell before excruciatingly painful experiments would begin and her Herrscher core was taken out, rendering her a shattered self of what she'd been, but still having her personality and her sense of self.

 Her life was long, too long to be remembered fully and too long to consider her to have any remaining sense of humanity. That's why she didn't answer right away, looking into the sea of stars as they continued to travel forward with the Astral Express. Her hands were locked together on her stomach, a soft exhale followed her eyes, closing as if she was trying to bring herself to start. It wasn't that. What was happening was her thinking of everything that transpired in her life and how so many things became a blur. A person who confessed his undying love to her, a group of people screaming 'witch' at her, a royal guard who called her the empress, a group of kids who called her their mother. 

She'd been the creator, the destroyer, the harlot and the saint. She took any role needed to push humanity forward, to witness their crusade and watch them climb forth. Sadly, she was left disappointed more often than not but she never lost hope for their ambition and their survival. 

"I've seen the world die and be born again," she gives him a vague beginning, but it's not a lie. If anything, it's the best way she can explain everything to him in one sentence. "I've been the hero, the villain, the supporter, the antagonist, the witch, the saint, the writer, the emperor, the soldier, the hunter... Any role in life you tell, I lived through it." Zarina closes her eyes again, exhaling. "I've seen humanity reach higher than Xianzhou Luofu as an example, I've seen humans slay gods by using science alone." She remembers the beautiful smile of Elysia, the one who sacrificed herself to give a chance to the Herrschers of the future. "I've seen how the daughter of the Imaginary Tree sacrificed herself to end fate's cruelty and I saw how that betrayal broke apart heroes of an era, rendering them defeated before the final battle even took place." The battle on the Moon against Herrscher of the End destroyed almost all of them. "I saw humans lose hope and give up, but I also saw hope prevail. I've seen almost everything, Dan Heng," she glances at him, eyes of gold misty with endless history and survival that scarred only the most resilient warriors. "If there is anyone who knows humanity's weaknesses and strengths... I would say that by watching others, I can already predict what end may befall them." 

A soft sigh leaves her again, possibly a fifth one at this moment. 

"I saw kids go to war, I saw men and women abuse their power, I saw violence that you've never witnessed in your years." There's bitterness in her smile as she looked back at the starry sea outside. "You should give me a more... Specific moment of my life to tell you about. Are you interested in the warriors who fought against the impossible? Are you interested in my days as an empress? Or are you interested in the days when I created a cult?" At the end, she laughs softly yet darkly and for a moment her eyes gleam dangerously before returning to their natural distant light. "There are countless stories, Dan Heng. No one should live that long."

[elitetrailers]

Discovering Excellence: Best Trailers in New Zealand

Greetings, fellow travel aficionados and outdoor enthusiasts! Today, we embark on an exciting journey to uncover the essence of best trailers nz in the picturesque landscapes of New Zealand. As we navigate through this adventure-filled blog post, get ready to delve into a world where convenience meets rugged exploration. Buckle up, dear readers, as we explore the realm of top-notch trailers that promise to elevate your travel experiences across the stunning landscapes of New Zealand.

A Gateway to New Zealand's Wilderness

In the land of the long white cloud, where snow-capped mountains kiss the sky and pristine lakes sparkle in the sunlight, having the perfect trailer can enhance your New Zealand escapade like never before. For those seeking the ultimate blend of comfort and functionality, the search for best trailers in New Zealand is a gateway to unlocking the wilderness and immersing oneself in the unparalleled beauty of the Kiwi terrain.

Embracing Versatility and Reliability

When it comes to best trailers nz, versatility and reliability are the cornerstones of an unforgettable travel experience. Whether you're traversing the rugged off-road tracks of the South Island or cruising along the captivating coastal roads of the North Island, a reliable trailer can be your trusted companion throughout the journey. With features designed to withstand the diverse terrains and ever-changing weather conditions of New Zealand, the best trailers nz blend durability with innovation to offer travelers a seamless and unforgettable adventure.

Unveiling the Top Picks

Let's shine a spotlight on some of the top picks in the realm of best trailers nz. The Explorer's Haven and Kiwi Nomad models stand out as perennial favorites among adventure enthusiasts for their robust build, off-road capabilities, and ingenious storage solutions. These trailers are not just a means of transportation; they are crafted to enhance every aspect of your travel experience, from providing a cozy resting space after a day of exploration to offering convenient storage for all your gear and essentials.

The Quest for Quality

In the pursuit of best trailers in New Zealand, quality is paramount. Kiwi builders take pride in the craftsmanship and attention to detail that goes into creating trailers that not only meet but exceed the expectations of travelers. Each trailer is a testament to the dedication and passion of the builders, reflecting the unique spirit of adventure that defines New Zealand. Whether you're embarking on a solo expedition or a family road trip, investing in a high-quality trailer ensures that your journey is not just memorable but also stress-free and enjoyable.

Conclusion: Your Path to Adventure Awaits

In conclusion, the world of best trailers nz offers a plethora of choices for travelers seeking a seamless and unforgettable exploration of New Zealand's natural wonders. As you prepare for your next escapade across this enchanting country, remember that the right trailer can be the key to unlocking a world of adventure and discovery. So, dive into the realm of best trailers nz, find the perfect companion for your travels, and set forth on a journey filled with excitement, wonder, and unforgettable memories.

I hope this blog post has ignited your wanderlust and inspired you to seek out the best trailers for your next New Zealand adventure. With the right trailer by your side, the possibilities are endless, and the experiences are bound to be extraordinary. Here's to the thrill of exploration and the joy of discovering excellence in every corner of beautiful New Zealand!

[spirituallesbianblog]

My Ancient Quest For The Truth Of Self

'I just want to be me'

Live my life my way as a blueprint for my journey as a soul navigating the rhetoric of my human self. If we think about how amazing this life can be as a vehicle for intrepid growth we get to feel excited about the possibilities and let's face it they are infinitely endless.  From the moment we are born a guardian angel is assigned to us and will stay with us until we leave this earthly life. And if we want to stretch the mind to corridors often closed off we can allow a belief there will be spirit guides that are also assigned to watch over our path. A mortal march through the fields of adventure where souls go to party as a human female or male. Some might ask why we do it.  Choose to embark on a journey in a 3-D foreign land. A starlit sanctuary where anything can happen amidst the best-laid plans of a soul script meticulously prepped for thirst-quenching growth. Planet Earth is an enigma a mindset all of its own but still, we hunger to set sail for shores far from our cosmic home to explore the Nirvana dream. An ideal of enlightenment and awakening to the truth of self. Unlike the programs instilled to constantly challenge and disbelieve who we truly are.  A divine soul designed with love by a creator who was inspired to bring forth a universe of celestial beauty and enchantment. A reservoir of enterprise induced by an innovative mind able to manifest into reality their infinite imagination. They say Nirvana is achievable if we grow with the changing tides. Still, many settle for a conditioned style of life with patterns clogging up our divine ID a galactic bloodline that goes back to the beginning.  Masked by human beliefs there is no source or God only us drifting in time and space. This spin doctor rap breeds a disconnect with our divine origin as a heterosexual or gay human doing their best in a compromised world. I reincarnated as a lesbian so I could experience what it is to be gay. Not everyone will agree with this belief but as a spiritualist who honors the concept of reincarnation.

'I see the beauty and bravery in coming to this earth as a gay female wanting to set the record straight about difference'

And how we are all of one God but found reasons to dishonor our soul friends who chose to come in various cultures and skin colors that others find conflict with. If you think for one moment we reincarnate many times it's possible our human choices were varied so we could potentially experience a magical life as an ancient Queen of a principality or slave in times when prejudice was at an all-time high. Each choice allows intimate encounters and events to support our climb to cosmic consciousness. A sphere of all-knowing where our creative gifts and talents are enabled for purpose on a grandiose globe of opportunity. Unconditional love is the heart of this universe where free will is enacted as our freedom of choice. However, it is not always accepted as gospel by those who have differing views about people of gay origin. Much has been said about my LGBT brothers and sister's homosexual inheritance a highly debated subject as science explores the maze of ancestral genetics. At the same time, the church classifies it as immoral and sinful behavior. Indeed it is humans who cast the first stone of judgment by those initiated into the school of biased parents who consider gay to be wrong. This creates a message of hate although the tone has softened as we dare to be different on a planet of mixed mindsets and religions that oppose who I am. I am a spiritual lesbian here to promote a divinity that measures the worth of every human by their loving heart. We are on the precipice of change and I am here to inspire the movement of free-spirited souls who came to help awaken a 'sleeping beauty' world. And why recognizing the truth of self has never been more crucial as resistance comes in from all quarters blaspheming one's right to walk their path with integrity and grace. This evolves humanity spiritually and expansively as each person feels the call of their purpose, whether to rescue our begotten animals or write songs that reflect the depth of one's soul through the power of words and lyrics. Each soul brings an ambition unique to only them. A spirit of invention transmuted by our human self as the definition of who we are and what we bring to this world

'This takes a measure of self-belief we can share our likeness as a preacher of the gospel - an astronaut seeking the stars or a messenger from creation here to lighten a load of humanity with her insightful intellect and vision of heaven on earth'

The sky is the limit but it may require you to find the Joan of Arc hero within as people of Earth can be a tough convert and customers. We like what is familiar and hold tight to programs that bring comfort as we discount our dreams as too hard or unacceptable to the masses. It's a classic call amongst humans to lay down their arms of purpose so they fit in with another or entire planet as we are connective creatures drawn to the closeness achieved through friendships, partnerships, and family units. A framework that seeds the beginnings of a beautiful soul purpose or crushes the spirit enough to forsake a divine being's reason for reincarnating. Life on earth can be a dream come true or a goal lost through the harshness of earlier abuse that shocks the natural flow of a soul and human odyssey. This early crisis can mar the vision of self and deter a person's pathway to purpose. A divine covenant agreed upon before we springboard into human life armed with a mission revealed through experience. Our paths are littered with trials and tests lovingly designed to spark the authentic truth of us and the magic we came to create. We all have it and can tap in when we know how to reach the depth of our awareness of 'who we are.'  And that's at the core of our conviction as divine and human souls. What makes us think and feel the way we do? What drives and guides us to our passions. The art of our inner landscape as a painter, musician, stockbroker, or politician. It is the blind leading the blind as mom and dad teach their kids all they learned. This can be a blessing or a curse as kids try to decipher their inner truth based on the lessons of their parents and the family dynamic. We can hardly blame our guardians for going off the cues they were given by their significant teachers. An ancestral issue that comes down the line until someone breaks the code of dysfunction and breathes a light of health into family interactions that have so far been negative.

'From day one parents tell us who they think we are and what roads we need to take to survive the safari of life'

It begins with the basic steps of learning to crawl and walk then education so we can get a cool job that enables us choices like buying a home, settling down with a partner, having kids, or sailing the seven seas on a boho journey of devil many care adventure. It's all about the conscious choice and what we have learned or decided to discard from our guardians and view of the outer world. What we know thus far can steer the ship of life in any direction and down paths we might wish we hadn't. And that is often because we don't know ourselves only the vision shown to us by people we trusted from an early age. It's a tough call to find the self as we are loaded with the baggage of guidance from our ancestral beliefs. A powerful influence on any child who sees mom and dad as their closest allies. The influencers of their future life and if there has been parental abuse kids may believe the world is a hostile place and harden their hearts to survive. This child is emotionally impaired as a consequence of their abuse and may carry the scars forward as failed relationships and personal life success. Kids are set up to fail through trauma that goes unhealed. How can they find their truth of self when they carry the burdens of frightening unresolved events. This child will struggle to find their authentic self. The keystone to a happy, healthy, and prosperous life. The temporal self of an abused child may be all they know until they heal with the potential to evolve, expand, and ascend in their creation consciousness. When we integrate our mind, body, and emotive self with a clear sense of who we are the light of the universe shines brighter in our world as now we have all the parts working in cohesion. The psychology of spirit embodies the human function of how we emote, think, and act through our physical but what is missing?  Our link to an endless supply of unconditional love and creative consciousness is often not recognized by the person whose belief system does not embrace an expansive power that generates the opulence of knowing there is more to this life than what is seen, heard, or touched.

'The invisible realms are the dance of creation a mystical machine that speaks through our hearts to those ready and willing to hear'

Our soul is the engineer of our existence as humans walking the talk of creation often with no intimate connection to the person they reside in. This causes restrictions in how we navigate our lives especially if we have accumulated a collective of thoughts based on our assimilations as an avatar soaking up every word spoken on our path. We then externalize who we think we are whether it be an authentic perception of self or a masquerade formed from others' perceptions and perspectives. Every day we are besieged with the ideals, values, and expectations of a world governed by those in powerful seats. People who influence our thinking cause a disconnect with the self as we take on the visions of those we see as persuaders or experts in their apparent field. These seasoned souls are of worth in accessing our definitive talents and can show us the purpose we came to fulfill. Each is specific to the individual who may have to scan their psyche to find the deeper meaning of what they believe is their highest aspiration. An idea, belief, or incessant passion that lights up their imagination with joyous thoughts of achievement. The same applies to our original algorithm as a soul defined by past life experiences and beliefs etched in our spiritual framework. And when combined with what it is to be human makes us a symbol of creation as we embrace all that is unity. The disconnection from the source has left us wandering in a desert of mirages where life is determined by our environment rather than our spiritual and human psychology. In alignment when our consciousness soars with the mysteries of this universe syncing esoterically with our mortal jaunt on earth. Our immortal self already knows who we are as we awaken to our ancient truth of self. A signature of divinity and the immaculate conception we are. Letting go of all we know is the crystalline path to self. A worthy adventure as soul and human take the journey inward to the primordial truth of us and our galactic bond with God. We see beyond the ties that bind us on earth and feel the love of an unconditional icon bathed in the blissfulness of light.

'My pilgrimage has taken me to places rarely seen'

I have walked through the corridors of pain and witnessed the dark side of humanity. I am not alone as the ships of abuse are sinking where love is not honored in homes all around the world. Our people are hurting and being hurt by unhealed souls whose wounds are infected. When we are cut we bleed and then often bleed into others who are then the victim of our wounding. The journey to my true self was littered with traumatic events that shattered the illusions of my programming at a very early age. I was aware of the esoteric and a God of mainstream religion. Still, the magnitude of wounding I received cracked me open to a divinity that opened the enlightened gates to an expansive consciousness of awareness, intellect, and supernova growth. The kind that defines my sense of truth to who I am and my divine purpose. It is a freeing experience even if you are still in the throes of trauma which at times I still am. On-going oppressors whose relentless pursuit puts you in a game of stalking and narcissism can be the catalyst for your definition and ancient idealism of yourself as a soul navigating a difficult human life. I believe in reincarnation as the medium by which we express ourselves in human form and then return to our home among the stars. There may be a script to guide our way but in the end, we define our reality as a consensus of who we are and not some carbon copy of a person many tried to convince us we were. It is breaking out of paradigms put in place by people voicing who they thought they were and enacting this belief to teach the masses. We are all interconnected as humans who inhabit this earth but also through our soul heritage and the father of all humanity a divine maestro that governs all that is. This is when our ancient self is revealed and what a homecoming it is. For me, it is an old soul cruising this earth as a lesbian. A woman who values her worth as a disciple of divinity a messenger for the authentic self. How can we live the life of our dreams if we are an imposter of our ancient self? A perpetrator of our authenticity programmed for eons by masterminds of illusion. This is still the state of our conditioned globe where honoring the self is not a priority and has been replaced by a follow-the-crowd ethic. Once we break free from the constraints of societal regimes we find the courage to look deep within and make friends with the core of our beautiful, unique, one-of-a-kind self.

~The ancient truth of self is an internal journey of love for who we truly are and once the cage is opened we fly free from every thought or ideal told to us as the gospel of our worth~

Author ~ Linda E Cole (The Divine Feminine)