#prompt: Northern Lights

[pilvimarja]

@roosmavprompts prompt #4: Northern Lights

[roosmavprompts]

Roosmav Prompt #4

Trying something a bit different, this week's prompt is a picture!

PHOTO: ELIZABETH RUGGIERO/GETTY

This prompt will be live for two weeks!

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[altered60]

Prompt: Northern Lights picture prompt from @roosmavprompts

Title: blinded by the light

Author: altered60

Rating: E

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, First Time, Love Confession, Light Angst, Maverick POV, Car Crash - Minor, Minor injury, Bradley fussing, There was only one Bed, Feelings Reveal, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, implied Bottom Maverick, implied switch, Northern Lights, Oblivious Maverick

Word Count: 8140

Summary:

Maverick loved to fly. As evident in the career he chose, where he lived, the people he hung out with and the fact he’d taken on a season to fly air shows all across Europe. The trip had nothing to do with Bradley being deployed for a year and Maverick wanting extra time and distance from home to forget how his feelings had grown from friendship to…more. 

But when an accident occurs abroad, Maverick is suddenly faced with a choice.

Take that shaky step into the unknown and soar, or stay with feet firmly on the ground?

~*~*~*~*~

Click here to read!

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 31

There was meant to be northern lights tonight but it kinda sucked and you couldn't see it (i think we were a few hours too early to see it) and now I'm just thinking about our boys looking at the stars... and the northern lights show up... and jaskier is sobbing and wanting to write a million songs about the beauty of nature, but Geralt lives in the coldass mountains and has probably seen them before in his like hundred years of living awjgphapwhgpa

[jnstudios2]

@dannymayevent

Lights

When I think of lights, I think of the beautiful northern lights 🌌

[hersurvival]

I can already imagine it -

You screaming and giggling with every bend in the road I take a little too fast.

Kicking your feet and shaking your head as we sing at the top of our lungs.

You keep asking me, "Are we there yet?"

And I keep telling you no, more times than you thought possible.

"I mean, how far up can we go?"

Our midnight drive up the mountains - I promised to take you before you ever promised to visit.

It's 2 a.m. and you're wrapped in a blanket in my passenger seat.

As we near the top, your green eyes swirl, reflecting the lights.

They well up with amazement.

@nosebleedclub May 10th - Amazement

[tallbluelady]

release - for the single-word fic prompt!

"What are we going to do tonight, darling?" Rowan asked after the Scions had broken apart from dinner. "I didn't realize we were going to leave Sharlyan so soon after coming. I know we're working, but I would've liked to see more of your homeland."

"As there doth not appear to be any of the towers built by the Telophoroi in the vicinity, our plans leave us precious little time here," Urianger said. "Though mayhap it doth not be so urgent as to leave thee without a proper tour."

"Did I give the impression that G'raha and Krile weren't able to give me one?"

"There is aught that I would show thee myself, as is my duty as thy fiance." He offered his arm with a wink. 

Rowan smiled as Urianger lead her through the less beaten paths and hidden nooks that he and Moenbryda were wont to visit as youths, reveling in the stories he told. Eventually, they found their way to the top of the Studium to look at the stars.

"Is this where you would spend Heavensturn when you were younger?" Rowan asked as they sat.

Urianger smiled and nodded. "Aye. Though I could have sworn twas easier a climb than now... But look now, my love, as the very heavens dance for us!"

Rowan gasped and leaned against him. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she watched as the curtains of light rippled across the sky. "I remember Haucherfant telling me that he saw them in Coerthas, but I never saw them myself."

"Dost thou know how the aurora cometh to be?" Urianger asked.

She hummed and shook her head. "Nay. Not truly. The bards sing that it is Oschon's mantle rippling through the sky. The colors remind me of the Umbral Winds in the Sea of Clouds, to be honest."

"As poetic as a God's mantle doth be, thy experience in the Sea of Clouds doth be closer to the truth of the matter. For the cause of the aurora cometh from the celestial currents of our Star protecting us from harmful aether released by the Sun." He pulled her tighter and started to play with her hair then. "Wind aether is oft colored green, so we may well surmise that this display doth be of that aspect. In our youth, Moenbryda and I had chance to see levin purple streaks across the sky."

Rowan hummed. "That anyone would want to release the Final Days when there's such beauty to the Star...  what more cause is there to live than to be with your loved ones and to see such wonders?"

"I can think of no nobler pursuit."

[nuagederose]

🫧 mermay 2024 // day 29: Helsinki, Finland 🫧

”kaarina” 🧜🏼‍♀️🇫🇮

ig: badmotorartist

[lisbeth-kk]

Holiday

Thanks for the prompt @calaisreno

Ice and fire

They’ve decided to let Rosie choose where to go the next time she’s off school. February predicts she will pick somewhere hot and sunny. Even Sherlock’s unprepared when she makes her wish clear. No hesitation, no matter how many times they ask if she’s sure.

“It’s damn cold there at that time of year, love,” John says.

“And it’s not the kind of cold you’re used to here in England, Bee,” Sherlock punctuates.

Rosie rolls her eyes at her two oblivious fathers.

“I know! I’ve done my research, collected data,” she says exasperated, looking specifically at Sherlock, who does nothing to hide his smile.

“Of course you did,” he says fondly, ruffling her curls. 

“Well, at least we know what to buy for Christmas,” John muses. “Proper clothing. Wool, fleece, windproof jackets and trousers, boots…”

“Always the practical one, John.”

Sherlock reaches for John’s hand and squeezes it. John squeezes back, mouthing ‘I love you’.

***

Rosie and Sherlock uses the next weeks to do further research and decide on the actual destination. It’s after all three countries to choose from. When they’re at their wits end, they call John to make the final choice. Debating back and forth, John finally decides, and both Sherlock and Rosie let out a relieved sigh. John scrutinises them both, then throw his arms in the air.

“You had decided even before calling me, didn’t you?” he sighs.

“Papa deduced which of the cities you would prefer, Daddy. Easy peasy,” Rosie says gleefully.

Sherlock stands and embraces his husband, kissing his forehead.

“We all know how much you hate that kind of research, John. Besides, you would go anywhere with Bee and me, so we just made it easier for you. Nobody benefits from you being all grumpy,” Sherlock states and pulls John in for a proper kiss.

John melts in Sherlock’s arms and feels the excitement of going on an adventure with his beloved family.

***

When the hotel comes into sight, Rosie rubs her eyes and blinks rapidly.

“What’s wrong, Bee?” Sherlock asks as the bus is about to park.

“The windows. They look strange. Blurry. I thought there was something wrong with my eyes,” Rosie answers.

“Ah. Yes, the architecture is rather….” 

Sherlock trails off before he offends anyone, by saying out loud how appalled he is by the hideous look of said hotel. The location’s splendid, though. 

The receptionist is efficient, and to Rosie’s astonishment fluent in English, though he has an unfamiliar accent. Before they walk over to the lifts, she hears him speak on the phone in another language. She’s heard it at the airport and on the bus too.

“Did you understand any of that?” she asks Sherlock when the lift ascends to their floor. 

“Not a single word, Bee,” Sherlock admits.

“You, John?” he asks.

“Nope. Luckily they speak quite good English,” John says.

“They wouldn’t get far only speaking their mother tongue,” Sherlock muses. “And they’re adventurous. Vikings all of them, remember.”

Rosie giggles.

*** 

Before going out to explore the city, John checks the weather forecast like a true native. He’s done some research on his own. The weather can go from sun to heavy snowfall in a blink. He finds it hard to believe, but better safe than sorry, he reckons, and unpacks all their new outfits.

It doesn’t take them more than five minutes to reach the outskirts of the city centre. Rosie’s fascinated by the wooden houses by the small canal, not to mention when they arrive at the bigger one in the inner city. They’re all painted in different bright colours, and the sight’s quite picturesque.

“It’s just like in the photographs,” she whispers, her eyes beaming.

“Indeed,” Sherlock agrees, laying a gloved covered hand on Rosie’s shoulder.

John pulls out his phone to take a picture but is interrupted by a young girl in her twenties.

“Do you want me to take a picture of the three of you?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” says John and joins Rosie and Sherlock by the railing of the old bridge.

The girl takes a few shots of them, returns the phone to John and says her goodbyes. 

They’re starting to get cold, at least on their cheeks, which are the only places on their bodies not covered in fabric. Sherlock suggests they walk to the town square.

“I read that there’s some special event this week. Celebrating the Sami people’s national day. There should be a big tent there where they’re serving food and drinks.”

***

“This is like a fairytale,” Rosie whispers in awe when they enter the tent.

In the middle is a bonfire. Around it wooden benches and tables are placed in a wide circle, the benches covered with reindeer pelts and there’s a woman dressed in the traditional Sami garment performing a joik. 

The food’s also quite traditional. Something called bidos. A stew with onion, carrots, potatoes and reindeer meat. It’s simple and very down to earth, but tasty, and warm. 

John looks around the tent when he’s finished eating and eyes a woman casting glances at them, trying to hide her smile.

“So, you’ve seen her too?” Sherlock murmurs in his ear. “I think she recognises us.”

“You think?” John asks astonished. “I’m pretty sure she’s native Norwegian. I heard her talking to one of the waiters when I passed her earlier.”

“John, please. We’re not in the bushes or wilderness without internet access,” Sherlock huffs. “She probably reads your blog. There’s no question about her knowing who we are.”

“I’m just getting some more water, Daddy,” Rosie says and walks to a table where mugs of ice water are placed. 

On her way back, she stumbles. Before John or Sherlock can reach her, the woman catches Rosie and rescues her from falling. She even manages to save the glass which slipped out of Rosie’s hand.

“You alright?” she asks, and Rosie nods.

“Thanks,” Rosie says shyly. 

Sherlock approaches, thanking the woman warmly. She blushes and waves it away.

“No problem,” she says. “Having a nice stay?”

“Oh, yes!” Sherlock and Rosie say in unison.

“Have you seen the northern lights yet?” the woman inquires as John joins them.

“We were hoping to see them before we leave,” John retorts.

“Tonight may be a good time for it. Which hotel are you staying at?” 

When Rosie explains about the strange hotel, the woman chuckles.

“Ah, yes! Not a favourite when it comes to the architecture, but there’s a roof terrace with a magnificent view over the fjord. You should be able to see it from there, I think,” she explains.

“Brilliant,” John says. “We’ll definitely try that.”

The woman looks at Sherlock and sends him a look John’s unable to decipher. Sherlock just nods gravely at her, and she touches his arm briefly with tears in her eyes, before she wishes them a nice stay and walks out of the tent.  

***

Later that evening when Sherlock’s calculated the best opportunity to catch the northern lights, and they’ve dressed themselves, they find that they’re alone on the roof terrace. Most of the guests are here for business and have probably seen the spectacle numerous times, John thinks to himself.

The three of them are standing close together looking out over the fjord, and suddenly it’s there. Green light dances over the sky, and it’s breathtaking and magical, almost surreal. Rosie squeaks, hops up and down and claps her hands in excitement.

John pulls Sherlock closer and kisses his jaw.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” he whispers.

“Quite,” Sherlock agrees, and pulls John even closer.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?” John inquires when he feels Sherlock shake a little.

“No,” Sherlock murmurs. “It’s just…I…uhm…I remembered that woman from the tent.”

“Yeah, I meant to ask you about that look she gave you. You seemed to know what it was about,” John prompts.

“I did. She knows who we are, John. That look was linked to…”

He trails off and all of a sudden John understands.

“The roof,” he whispers. “She knew about the Fall and silently begged you to be careful.”

Tears spring to John’s eyes, and he buries his face in Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock strokes his back.

“I’m still astounded to experience strangers caring so much about us,” Sherlock murmurs. 

Rosie yawns as the northern lights recedes and they go back to their room, overwhelmed by all the impressions of the day. 

“Thank you for being persistent in your choice of our holiday destination, love,” John says when he tucks Rosie in.

“You’re welcome, Daddy. I didn’t want to bore any of us, and lying on a beach is actually quite boring,” the little girl states. 

She’s asleep before Sherlock has a chance to say goodnight.

Lying in bed Sherlock and John hold each other tight, marvelling in the thought that somewhere in this small town, almost in the middle of Norway, a woman cares for them, knows who they are, wishes them all the best, and they don’t even know her name.

I got a bit carried away today, moving them as close as I could.

@totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @peanitbear @raina-at @topsyturvy-turtely @meetinginsamarra @keirgreeneyes @gaylilsherlock

[feral-and-chaotic]

"He watched more alertly as the cat approached the spot again, just an empty patch of grass between the hornbeams and the bushes of a garden hedge... The cat stepped forward and vanished." - The Subtle Knife by Philip Pulman

Inktober: Golden.

Inspiration for the cat and area taken from my neighbour's cat:

[envihellbender]

What daemons would the Roy kids have?

I gave each of them animals they are native to Scotland and named them after Scottish islands!

Roman: Orkney the Grey Seal

The grey seal Orkney is a curious and playful dæmon who swims through the air and travels on the ground. Orkney did not have a stable shape until Roman was 16 which means it took the longest of any any of the Roy children. Orkney is quite small for a grey seal with white patches over belly, back, and neck.

In Scottish mythology the legend of the selkie is a seal that can transform into a human on land, it is also shown to have its hide stolen by humans making the selkie devoted to the person who has their coat. This could be shown to be mimicked on Roman’s devotion to his father, his desperation to be perfect for the man, and how he cuts off part of himself to impress him. It’s as if Logan literally has his hide. Seals are known to be playful, which connects to Roman’s tendency to use humour as a defence mechanism.

Kendall: Jura the Scottish Wildcat

Jura is a Scottish wildcat who has a black coat with a brown stripes pattern shining in her fur, and she has piercing green eyes. Kendall’s dæmon actually stabilised when he was ten years old, surprising and impressing Logan greatly. She prefers to sneak around, appearing on Kendall’s shoulder, hidden behind his legs, or may even keep so out of sight Kendall can’t see her.

The Cat-Sith is a fairy creature from Scottish mythology, sometimes thought to be a witch that can transform into a cat nine times. The Cat-Sith was believed to be able to steal a person’s soul if it approached them before their burial. The themes of transformation connect to Kendall’s mood swings, instability, and constant desire to betray his father causing great upheaval in the Roy family. In terms of the Cat-Sith stealing a person’s soul this can be thought of literally in terms of Kendall killing a young man, or symbolically when we see how Kendall mimics which his dad does in trying to break his siblings spirit (such as playing the Nirvana song R+pe Me at Siobhan’s speech.)

Siobhan/Shiv: Kilda the Golden eagle

Kilda is a loyal and proud dæmon, she often sits on Shiv’s shoulder or circles around her establishing the perimeter. She receives a lot of pets and scratches form Shiv who is extremely proud of her dæmon. She doesn’t trust new people, often scowling and aggressive approaching their fellow dæmons. Shiv finds it amusing and considers Kilda to simply strong like her.

A golden eagle is a bird of prey which mimics Shiv’s cutthroat nature and how she is happy to single out and cut down individuals who fight against her. Many early recorded cultures regarded the Golden Eagle with reverence, similar to how Shiv sometimes has the ‘golden child’ role forced upon her by Logan. Despite this however, Golden Eagle’s were considered a threat and brutally hunted around the time of the Industrial Revolution. This ties back to how Logan treats Shiv, she’s the golden child, the perfect daughter… until she upsets him. It’s then that she becomes a threat who needs to be discarded. Golden Eagles are also trained to catch drones, this connects to Shiv being tasked to try and take down Waystar for Gil in season one.

Connor: Tiree the Mountain hare

Tiree is fairly big for his size, with brown greying fur. Despite this however he manages to run around undetected and it seems to have no effect on his speed. Unlike most dæmon’s he is rarely seen to be touching Connor. He will run around his feet, and perch on objects next to him but he will never sit on his shoulder or hide in his coat.

In Native American Folklore, hares are considered tricksters. They are selfish creatures who operate with their own needs in mind (particularly if they involve sex.) This connects to Connor when his desire to keep Willa in his New Mexico ranch and control her life despite it not being her choice, and also knowing she doesn’t love Connor. There is also the English idiom “mad as a March hare”. This relates to the fact that during the hares’ breeding season (March), they act unpredictable and erratic. This connects to Connor’s behaviour whenever Willa is involved, or each simply when he’s around certain women since at Tom’s stag party in season one he tells a woman he has just met that he loves her. Generally speaking, Connor’s behaviour is strange and difficult to predict, this is shown in choices such as him running for president or buying Napoleon’s preserved genitalia.

[sakkiichi]

COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.

Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?

ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.

a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.

Scaramouche is not amused.

Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.

Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.

“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.

“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.

“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”

“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.

He sighs.

“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.

“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.

Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.

“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.

“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.

Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.

“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.

Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.

Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.

Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.

Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.

Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.

✧ ALBEDO

A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.

Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.

Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.

“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.

“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.

The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.

“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”

Giggles that always reminded Albedo of sunshine days at dragonspine are the answer that follows.

Taking his little one’s two hands in his, the chief alchemist helps his daughter take a few trembling steps, the baby happily padding on the wooden floor.

“There we go, princess!” Your lover chuckles, sitting the girl securely on the beige couch. Teal eyes flecked in emerald follow your partner’s movements, as he rummages through your living room’s drawers.

A few seconds later, more incomprehensible joyful babbles follow, when he sits by your daughter’s side, his hands expertely setting the supplies he retrieved on the low table. She stares at him intently, her gaze drawn to the vibrant crayons cluttering the tabletop’s surface.

“What should we draw today, my princess?” Are Albedo’s words, as he hands his child a light blue pencil, its tip dulled so she can’t hurt herself.

“Snow!” She exclaims, her tiny feet kicking back and forth in excitement, eliciting chuckles from her dad.

“You want to paint snow, my little cecilia?” He asks, combing through her blonde strands. “Alright, how about we paint you, mama and papa building a snowman?”

“Yay!” Your baby reaches for the blank paper, wonder and excitement written all over her rounded features, her tongue sticking out the corner of her small mouth. She always loved to draw and paint, especially when it was with Albedo. And even if her pictures often ended up turning out as just criss-crossing lines or messy splotches, you and your husband always kept every single one of them, displayed as priceless masterpieces on the fridge’s door, the living room walls or your study.

After a few minutes of focused work, three figures start taking form over a background of messily drawn blue snowflakes.

“Look, dearie.” Albedo calls. “Who are these?”

His girl looks up at him, a huge smile on her face as she bites the pencil.

“Mama! Me! And Papa!” She answers proudly, pointing at each of the figures.

Albedo’s eyes widen, gilded sparks reflected in the cloudless skies of his irises at his daughter’s words.

Those last two syllables.

His own pencil falls out of his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor. In this moment, nothing else exists, save for the jingling echo of his daughter’s angelic tone.

“Papa?” She asks, tugging on his sleeve.

Albedo picks the little girl up, rising her as she laughs, unaware.

“Can you say it again, little princess? ‘Papa’.”

“Papa! Papa!” Giggles leave her throat.

Softly, Albedo places a kiss on her kid’s forehead, hugging her as the both of them lay down on the sofa.

When you got home, silence greets you, broken only by even breaths. Smiling to yourself, you brush a kiss against your husband’s and your daughter’s hair, a new painting adorning the walls after you gently throw a blanket over the sleeping figures of your two treasures.

✧ XIAO

“Do you want to hold her, Xiao? She’s been looking at you for a while.” You chuckle, your gaze softened when it sets upon your yaksha.

Golden eyes, not unlike the child’s currently on your arms, shadow in fear and shame for a moment.

What if he hurts the baby? What if his karma taints her somehow? What if-

“Xiao.” Your hand finds his gloved one, centuries of bloodshed written in the concealed scars. “She’ll be okay.” You reassure, a gentle squeeze, as your fingers slot between his.

The adeptus glances in his daughter’s direction, her round amber eyes curiously observing him.

Your husband’s jaw sets, his lips drawn in a taut line. If someone were to look at him now, they may think he’s sulking, the furrow of his brow apparently an indication to steer clear.

You, however, know better.

“Here, I’m with you, love.” You softly utter, placing your daughter in her father’s arms.

The baby stares up at her dad in awe, her little hands fiddling with the necklace he always wears.

She’s so small… such a pure and precious being… will she be safe with him?

Just as these thoughts plague his mind, the girl curls up in his embrace, nuzzling against his toned torso.

“See? She adores you, Xiao…” You tell him, knuckles brushing against your baby’s soft full cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” She turns around, a smile drawing on her lips, as she buries herself further into Xiao, whose cheeks have gone as red as the carmine lining his eyes.

“H-hello, little qingxin…” Xiao greets her, awkwardly rubbing her back.

In response, his baby tilts her head slightly backwards, the molten suns in her stare illuminating her father’s rusted gold gaze.

“Papa!” She goes, a little clumsy, it sounding more like ‘dada’.

The vigilant yaksha’s eyes widen, his heart feeling like a million bright lanterns floating towards a starry sky.

“Xiao! She said ‘papa’! See? She loves you!” You excitedly chant, hugging your husband’s waist, as you pepper kisses all over his face. “You are her first word, dear, our baby adores her dad so much. I knew she would!” A smile tugs at your lips, lids fluttering closed as you rest your cheek on Xiao’s shoulder.

His hands hover around his daughter, his hold on her delicate, as if she was a newly bloomed flower whose petals could vanish if the wind blew too strongly.

“Papa…” The girl repeats, her chubby cheek squished against’s Xiao’s form. Her eyes are droopy, a little yawn escaping her as she settles more comfortably in her father’s embrace.

Your adeptus heaves out a sigh of relief, the warmth of a familiar fireplace swarming all around him, as if candid candle flames were running through his veins when the soft snores of his daughter reach his ears.

The conqueror of demons’ mask would be shed for tonight.

✧ CHILDE

Small hands are glued to the window’s glass panes, a pair of bright blue eyes staring awestruck at the image currently taking place in your garden.

Flashes of crystalline cyan flit across the air as Childe wields his double blades, merging them into a spear, his muscles taut at the effort.

The little girl’s tiny hands curl into fists, as she leans forward in anticipation, marine gaze following her father’s movements.

He reminds her of the illustrations she’s seen in the picture books Teucer has shown her before.

She must get closer.

Looking over her shoulder, your daughter makes sure you’re busy with something in the kitchen.

Her plan can be put into action now.

Crawling towards the door on all fours, she realizes she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach the handle.

Oh, but she takes after you, and will not be deterred by something like this.

Silently, the baby makes her way towards the dog you took in. He’s big and fluffy and very peaceful, often keeping company to the little girl. With a gentle pat to his side, she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and, despite his instinct to keep her safe, the puppy obliges to her demand.

Folding his paws, the animal lowers himself to the ground, allowing your daugher to climb. A vivid spark flashes through her ocean eyes, tiny hands securing on her companion’s fur.

And just as she was about to reach the door opening to the garden, a familiar voice that’s lulled her to sleep many a night stops her in her tracks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little lady.” You stand a couple feet away from her, hands on your hips, your concern masked with masterfully feigned anger.

Your baby stares up at you, that oceanic gaze puppy-like, much like her father did when you were mad at him.

“Mama…” She mumbles, her little hands signaling to where Childe is training outside, sounds you can’t understand leaving her pouty lips.

You sigh, kneeling to pick her up, rubbing your dog’s chin gently.

“So you want to see papa training, don’t you, little troublemaker?” You prompt, smiling as you tickle her belly. She giggles, wiggling her legs in your hold. “Alright, just this once, and because he’s almost finished with his routine.” You warn, softly pinching her cheek.

Once outside, you both stare at the harbinger, you, with heating cheeks; your daughter, in admiration and wonder.

Then:

“Papa!” She calls, energetically waving to her father, as you have to struggle so she doesn’t fall out of your grasp.

Suddenly, Ajax’s hydro blades vanish, a rare glow present in the eyes that are so like his daughter’s. A wide grin spreads across his sun-kissed features, arms opening as he runs towards you and his baby.

“Papa! Papa!” His daughter repeats, as your husband hugs the both of you.

No matter how cold Snezhnaya’s blizzards blew, Ajax would always have his personal patch of sunshine in you two.

✧ KAEYA

Calla lilies surround the scene, their russet-hued petals aglow in the blue shimmer of the statue of the seven standing amidst the lake.

Dusk approaches, the sky still dyed in shades of tangerine and cherry blossom, the sun, a glimmering halo right above the horizon.

Over frondous grass spotted in sun and shadow, a blanket lies, its baby blue pattern fading into the multiple colors of the snacks scattered above it: portions of cake you baked the afternoon prior; sandwitches carefully cut in triangle shapes; handpicked apples and sunsettias, cut and placed into plates by your lover.

But perhaps the most vivid color of them all was that of the couple sitting atop it.

A couple and their daughter.

“You really liked this pie, didn’t you, little lily?” Kaeya coos at his baby, her chubby cheeks littered with crumbs of the soft cake she’s been devouring all afternoon. Two pairs of ice blue eyes meet each other beneath the setting sun, the girl’s giggles eliciting a chuckle from her father’s lips as he carefully wipes her face. “Mama will be mad if you stain your dress, little princess.” The cavalry captain points out, in mock scolding.

His reprimand is met with a bashful smile and his kid cuddling into him, her tiny hands clutching his clothes.

“Kaeya, don’t tease her!” You swat at his arm playfully, soft laughter leaving the both of you as your husband smooths over your girl’s hair, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t pay any mind to papa, now.” You reassure her, tenderly brushing over her chubby hands. “He’s a little silly sometimes.”

The girl looks up at you, those iceberg toned eyes wide in wonder at the world that she still has to discover around her.

You ruffle her hair, as she turns around in Kaeya’s embrace, settling on top of his legs, staring up at him.

“Papa!” She announces, taking ahold of Kaeya’s long braid, playing with it. “Papa… prince!” She points out, as she grabs one of the dolls she brought: a boy wearing a crown.

With a knowing grin, you shift closer to your lover, leaning against his side.

“Yes, little sweetheart, you’re right, papa is a prince.” Kaeya’s hand locks with yours over his shoulder, fingers laced together, the warmth of his touch so paradoxical, given the freeze he commands.

“And that is why you’re our little princess.” The knight tells your baby, as he places a stray calla lily on her hair.

“Princess!” She happily babbles, rising her arms.

Instances like this… they truly stoked gentle flames around the captain’s heart, oftentimes concealed behind apparently crystalline walls of frost. As long as he had the two of you, at least during brief moments like this, there would be no need for practiced facades.

Across the distant horizon, even dusk seemed to delay, allowing a few more seconds of luminous skies for the family sitting below it, a flickering smile crossing the anemo archon’s face of stone.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Slate skies expand above him, his opal eyes restless oceans in the tears they contain, painted lashes dripping in midnight droplets.

Rainbow roses seem to weep too, their petals downcast, the sunrise shades of their blossoms muted in the downpour.

Neuvillette stands alone, the garden of your shared home melancholy; the trees too bare, the grass ashen, the flowers wilting.

Save for the pitter-patter of rusted silver droplets, silence reigns the scene.

The hydro dragon’s mood had a tendency to be mirrored in the heavens over Fontaine, after all.

Sighing, the Chief Justice takes a sit by a bush of lumidouce bells. Fitting, for someone whose shoulders slump not unlike the petals of the periwinkle hued blooms.

“Neuvi, love.” A familiar voice calls him, gently. “What are you doing out there in this weather, dear?”

Long argent locks of hair shift, like seafoam by moonlight, when he turns around, water, from the rain, or his tears, or both, running down his cheeks.

“Someone has come to see you, my love.” You softly utter, beckoning your husband towards the porch, the impending cacophony of his racing mind and falling downpour partially silencing.

Neuvillette’s features warm up a bit the moment he realizes who you’re talking about.

A little girl placidly rests between your arms, eyes of crystalline dusk looking up at her father. Unlike his, hers are rounded, lacking the dark circles frequently etched under your lover’s.

“Look who’s here, little rainbow.” You coo at your daughter, who tries chasing after your wiggling fingers, right as you playfully poke her belly. “Papa is here, do you perhaps want to play with him?”

The baby looks at you, one of her tiny fists on her mouth, as her eyes crinkle up in crescents. Then, she turns towards her dad, arms reaching out.

“Papa! Papa!” She laughs, inclining her flexible small torso towards him.

Neuvillette’s gaze widens, placing his hands around his little girl, protectively cradling her in his embrace.

“Papa is here, sunshine.” Your lover assures her, as he leans down to kiss her nose.

In the distance, a familiar arch shoots across the heavens, the violet of goodbyes and separations shifting into rosy affection.

Golden replaces dull steel, flecks of it dotting the grass, remnants of rain clinging like emeralds to the verdant stems.

The sun is out. The hydro dragon cries no more.

[roosmavprompts]

Roosmav Prompt #4 Roundup: Northern Lights

This week we had three awesome fills!

Northern Lights by @pohjanneito Art, Rated: N/A, Tags: N/A

Northern Lights by @altered60 Fic, Rated: E, Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, First Time, Love Confession, Light Angst, Maverick POV, Car Crash - Minor, Minor injury, Bradley fussing, There was only one Bed, Feelings Reveal, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, implied Bottom Maverick, implied switch, NorthernLights, Oblivious Maverick

Northern Lights by @bayleemav Art, Rated: N/A, Tags: N/A Thank you everyone for your wonderful contributions! Next prompt will be up shortly...

[unboundprompts]

Different Ways to Describe Blue Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She had eyes like the sky on a warm, sunny day.

His eyes were of the darkest blue, like the ocean that threatened to drown sailors on a stormy night.

Their eyes glowed with anger, resembling the blue flames of an unforgiving fire.

His eyes were like ice: cold and relentless.

She had bright blue eyes that seized all the sadness in his heart when she looked at him.

His eyes were fire in the water.

Their eyes were the exact same shade of blue as the bucket he used to take with him down to the pond as a kid.

Her eyes reminded him of watercolors, blues and greens and purple mixing together like paint on a canvas.

He had eyes like sapphires: big beautiful gems that watched her every move.

She had never seen eyes like theirs— the lightest blue color that they were nearly silver— and she couldn’t help but to stare.

Their eyes were like deep blue pools, and he felt that he would get lost in them if given the chance.

His eyes were the same as the blue-green mountain lakes, reflecting the hue of evergreen trees and the sparkling sun.

With just a glance at her blue eyes, he could see a lifetime a struggle that she had never spoken aloud before.

In their blue eyes, she saw rings of gold like a new sun.

He had eyes like the midwinter sky.

Her blue eyes fixed him in the best ways.

They had never realized that blue eyes could look like such hot fire until now.

His eyes were the blue of the dark sky, lit with dancing northern lights and bright stars.

Her blue eyes had the sweetest traces of caramel.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[esoteric-chaos]

Spring Equinox Masterpost- Spoonie Witch Friendly

Art Credit: Anastasia Catris

The Spring Equinox, also called the Vernal Equinox or Ostara, is usually celebrated between the 21st of March in the Northern Hemisphere (In the Southern Hemisphere around September 20th or 21st)

In 2024, Ostara and the Spring Equinox land in the Northern Hemisphere on Monday, March 19th.

The Spring Equinox celebrates the arrival of spring. Celebrating balance, growth, and new beginnings as Winter has finally ended.

Spring Equinox Correspondances

Colours

Light Green

Lavender

Sunny Yellow

Light Blue

Pastel Pink

White

Herbal

Lemongrass

Daffodils

Tulips

Violets

Apple Tree

Cherry Blossom

Primrose

Birch tree

Hyacinths

Dandelion

Garlic

Ash tree

Jasmine

Edibles

Honey

Salad greens

Spring veggies

Fresh berries

Mead

Herbs

Eggs

Seeds

Bread

Edible flowers

Quiches

Custards

Maple

Animals

Hares

Baby Chicks

Snakes

Robins

Bees

Butterflies

Phoenix

Ram

Crystals

Fluorite

Moonstone

Silver

Aquamarine

Clear Quartz

Amazonite

Symbols

Bonfires

Flowers

Rabbits

Eggs

Seeds

Baskets

Flowering or Tree Buds

Lambs

Birds

Spiritual meanings

Purification

Cleansing (removal of stagnant energy)

Growth

Transition

Motivation

Balance

Birth

Good fortune

Kindness

Joy

Fertility

Scents

Coconut

Citrus

Floral scents (rose, lilac, jasmine, etc)

Herbal scents (rosemary, basil, mint, etc)

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Eostre –  (Anglo-Saxon)

Aphrodite - (Greek)

Gaia - (Celtic)

Gaea - (Greek)

Venus - (Roman)

Athena - (Greek)

Aurora - (Roman)

Eos - (Greek)

Isis – (Egyptian)

Freya - (Norse) 

Persephone - (greek)

Cybele - (Roman)

The Green Man - (Celtic)

Odin – (Norse) 

Osiris – (Egyptian)

Pan – (Greek)

Thoth – (Egyptian)

Adonis – (Greek)

Apollon –  (Greek)

Apollo - (Roman)

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I've got you covered.

High energy celebrations and ritual

Deep cleaning of the hearth and home

Nature hikes

Visiting farmers markets

Making preserves

Create a fae garden

Create a seasonal altar

Abundance/Prosperity ritual

New beginnings ritual

Low energy celebrations 

Wear pastels

Create flower crowns

Light a candle with scent correspondence

No spoon celebrations 

Opening a window

Journaling Prompts

Keeping hydrated

Drink floral tea

Rest

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

Also please note some stuff is UPG. A great book is Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden for honouring the celebrations and if you wanted to work more seasonally. It's not Wiccan-based and has plenty of resources for every witch.

Feel free to post how you celebrate in the comments or reblogs!

Want to see more of my posts? Check out my Wheel of the Year Masterpost or my Main Masterpost.

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 and other stories . . . 〗 a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by angela carter's the bloody chamber and other stories. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust details as necessary.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

muzzle. the sender kisses the monstrous mouth of the receiver.