#zephyr muse of wind

[forthedancingandthethriving]

I wanted to ramble about lore so.. yeah.

Remember how I've alluded/said Blotch and Tama were from a rhythm game that was eaten by Ozymandias? And how I've basically said it was Aire Village in The Cloud's Songbird?

Of course, that begs that question.. why isn't TCS destroyed? Why doesn't anyone have a memory of the giant snake?

Simple; Ozymandias consuming the Aire Village in the rhythm game affected the Aire Village in TCS. Since the two games were in a connected universe, his venom that he used affected the residents, therefore the venom passed onto the resident in TCS.

Now that brings up my next point..

Blotch and Tama are not the real versions of themselves, and the Muses are very aware of this (at least in Tama's case).

Tama tends to also have bouts of sickness from time to time. Nothing a small visit from Vitality can't fix, but it's something only Vitality can fix, meaning that it's code based. Tama's extremely simple code meant for the rhythm game isn't doing very well in the complex code of TCS. Vitality isn't really able to do anything about this, due to Tama being a kit at the moment.

In Blotch's case, this explains her 'curse'. It's not a curse in any way. It's just that her code is so simple and messed up that it can't handle being in complex games for more than a week.

Now with the Muses.. how do they know that Tama isn't the original Tama?

Aire Village used to be centered directly between the border of Ehtil and Luminos, and the kingdoms collaborated to take care of it. Caspian blessed the original sisters because he absolutely loved their creativity when it came to songs and dancing. So when they died in the extermination, he was deeply saddened yet understood.

So, his absolute shock when he sees Tama is, of course, understandable. But he knows that this isn't the original Tama, as necromancy is extremely difficult in TCS. (Intentionally so, all the Muses have a seal over the realm of the dead.)

They're all aware of the fact that Tama isn't the original, Caspian especially so, and they can't exactly bless her. They've noticed that something is wrong with her, and they're worried any blessings could harm her. So they do their best to just subtly help her whenever her hearing decides to act out. Zephyr typically messing with the winds to keep things relatively under control.

(As for why the rhythm came was so easily destroyed, Connected Cosmos Company and Jayin in general did not see it as a profitable game. Jayin's personal copy was the one that was affected by Ozy.)

[aliciavance4228]

this is a weird ask, but do you know of a source where Boreas is the wind god who kills Hyacinthus instead of Zephyrus? Madeline Miller included that variation of the myth in her book and Wikipedia says that there are versions where Boreas is the killer but I can’t find any 😭

Nonnus, Dionysiaca:

"When Bacchos lifted his thyrsus against a maddened bear, or cast his stout fennel javelin-like at a lioness, he looked aside watchfully toward the west; for fear the deathbringing breath of Zephyros might blow again, as it did once before when the bitter blast killed a young man while it turned the hurtling quoit against Hyacinthos. He feared Cronides might suddenly appear over Tmolos as a love-bird on amorous wing unapproachable, carrying off the boy with harmless talons into the air, as once he did the Trojan boy to serve his cups. He feared also the lovestricken ruler of the sea, that as once he took up Tantalides in his golden car, so now he might drive a winged wagon coursing through the air and ravish Ampelos – the Earthshaker mad with love!"

Pausanias, Description of Greece:

"Wrought on the altar is also Heracles; he too is being led to heaven by Athena and the other gods. On the altar are also the daughters of Thestius, Muses and Seasons. As for the West Wind, how Apollo unintentionally killed Hyacinthus, and the story of the flower, we must be content with the legends, although perhaps they are not true history."

Lucian, Dialogues of the Dead:

"NO: I grieve for my beloved; the Laconian, the son of Oibalus. HERM: Hyacinth? he is not dead? AP: Dead. HER: Who killed him? Who could have the heart? That lovely boy! AP: It was the work of my own hand. HERM: You must have been mad! AP: Not mad; it was an accident. HERM: Oh? and how did it happen? AP: He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing with him. I had just sent my quoit up into the air as usual, when jealous Zephyr (damned be he above all winds! he had long been in love with Hyacinth, though Hyacinth would have nothing to say to him) — Zephyr came blustering down from Taygetus, and dashed the quoit upon the child's head; blood flowed from the wound in streams, and in one moment all was over. My first thought was of revenge; I lodged an arrow in Zephyr, and pursued his flight to the mountain. As for the child, I buried him at Amyclae, on the fatal spot; and from his blood I have caused a flower to spring up, sweetest, fairest of flowers, inscribed with letters of woe. — Is my grief unreasonable? HERM: It is, Apollo. You knew that you had set your heart upon a mortal: grieve not then for his mortality."

Here are a few sources. There you go!

[sakkiichi]

BETTER THAN REVENGE.

you and your ex ended on bad terms. you want revenge. your annoying best friend might be the answer.

ft. Childe x gn! reader.

cw/genre: romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mild angst, fluff, modern/college au, very brief mention of alcohol consumption.

word count: 2.6k.

i dreamt about this idea months ago, and i thought my first genshin crush’s birthday would be a good day to write it hehe. happy birthday ajax <3

What did you ever see in that asshole, you will never know.

You hate him. Of that, you are certain.

You really tried to put effort into your relationship, made time for him, prioritized him.

It seemed to always go unreturned.

And that much is made clear tonight, the sight of him making out with someone else at this party you don’t even know why you decided to attend, being the last straw.

“We’re done, you jerk.” Are the words you spat at him, throwing the remnants of your drink at your now ex-boyfriend.

You regret it now. Having wasted half a drink, that is.

The music blasting through the speakers is soon replaced by crickets chirping and the night wind ruffling through the trees. You spare a glance at the moon above. Full, its rays seemingly lighting up a liquid silver trail leading to you.

“Leaving so soon?” A familiar, and, might you add, annoying at times, voice questions.

Well, at least it’s better than hearing your ex, you muse to yourself, as you turn around to face your friend.

His ocean blue eyes glimmer in the summer starlight rain, matching the color of his baby blue t-shirt.

A smile makes it to your face. You always loved to steal that one when you had sleepovers.

“Nothing gold can stay, am I right, Ajax?” You retort, a mirthless grin plastered on your moonlit features.

Your friend takes a few steps forward, coming to stand next to you, shoulder playfully bumping against yours.

“I’d rather you stayed, though.” He says, a melancholy smile tugging at his lips.

You close your eyes, a sigh escaping you into the night.

“Let’s just say… I’ve had enough for tonight.” You mutter, exhaustion beginning to catch up to you.

“Anything happen?” Childe asks, ginger strands swaying around his face in the warm zephyr.

You bark a dry laugh, yet all you feel running through your veins is boiling anger.

“Well, I saw that asshole kissing someone else.” You cross your arms over your chest. “So I made it clear we’re done. I also wasted half my drink on that shithead when I spilled it on his face.” You tilt your head to the side. “Pity, that cocktail was much more worth it than him.” You add, matter of factly.

Ajax chuckles. He always liked your unapologetic remarks.

“You really did that?” He laughs. It’s nice, sincere. Then: “He didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Eh, probably not.” You shrug. “I just really want to piss him off now.”

“Oh?” Your friend’s usually dull marine eyes light up in amusement. “Any ideas?”

“Huh, not yet…” You ponder, worrying your thumbnail between your teeth.

Childe levels his gaze with yours, that impish grin meaning he was up to no good not unlike the edge of the moon above.

“Date me.” He smirks, just like that.

And at that moment, you’re too aware of the heat rising to your cheeks, of the wild pounding of your heart against your ribcage, of the constellations of freckles dotting the bridge of Ajax’s nose. “You know, just as show, to spite him.”

And perhaps it’s the sweet intoxication of your half drunk cocktail, or the way a lake of stardust seems reflected in his eyes, but you find your pinky linked with his before you have half the mind to back off.

“Deal.”

—

On hindsight, perhaps you were impulsive.

Was it really a good idea to involve your best friend in this game of spite?

Readjusting your bag on your shoulder, you walk to your first period class.

Students, some more sleepy than others mill around campus, a collage of headphones on, hands busy on screens and chit chat filling the early morning air.

“Morning, babe.” Are the first words directed at you today, followed by a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Ajax…” You whisper-shout, frowning, face warming up. “You know you just need to pretend.”

“I’m very aware of that.” He whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear, as his voice lowers a little more. “He’s looking, sweetheart.”

Despite your quickened heartbeat, a devilish grin makes it to your features, arms wrapping around your best friend temporarily turned “boyfriend”.

“Ajax!” You coo, sweetly. “I had missed you so much! Ah! How am I going to endure six hours of class without seeing you?”

The redhead embraces you, arms tightening around your waist, dangerously close to your hipbones. His face buries in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into you, lovingly.

“Good, he just stormed off.” He murmurs, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze.

You smile brightly, luminous eyes meeting his crinkled up ones.

His hand slides into yours, pressing it reassuringly, before you two part, promising to meet afterwards.

Oddly enough, when you sit at the back of the seminar, six hours feel like an eternity.

But, like all things, your classes come to an end, eventually.

Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you leave the building.

It’s weird, this sensation, though.

You’ve been close with Childe for years, you’ve hugged countless times, slept at each other’s place just as many.

So, why now? Why did you feel all jittery and giddy at his subtle touches just earlier?

Perhaps you’re still shaken from your breakup, as much as you can’t stand your ex.

“Hey there, pretty.”

You look up from your phone to be met with the colors of oceans and sunrises, Ajax’s grinning face centimeters away from yours.

“Childe.” You bluntly greet him. It’s unfair how the early evening sun kisses his skin just right, the light dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks reminding you of the stars that soon will start decorating the sky. You clear your throat, then:

“You know we just need to look like we’re dating, right? I thought I’d made myself clear.” You don’t know if your statement is more directed at him or at yourself.

“I know,” the ginger smiles, falling in step by your side. “But we need to make it look convincing, don’t we?” He winks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re insufferable, as always.” You grumble.

And yet, despite no one really being around at the moment, you make no effort to push the man away. And you definitely don’t complain when he switches to your other side, hand lingering on the small of your back, so that you take the innermost half of the sidewalk, away from the cars.

If someone were to ask, however, no, you certainly are not leaning into Ajax’s comforting hold.

—

A few more weeks go by, with most of your free time spent with your “fake boyfriend.”

And as much as you’ve always cherished him, despite his, at times, obnoxious nature, you certainly are confused right now.

What is it you feel for him? You like these newfound moments of shared tenderness between the two, so much that you wish they weren’t fabricated sometimes… What would it be like to love someone truly? To have someone love you?

What do his lips taste like? You wonder, as you have a few more sips of your iced peach juice.

You shake your head. No, you definitely did not think that. Must be the heat, messing with your head, surely.

However, willing fantasy or not, it turns out fate had indeed planned for you to indulge in your cravings.

The door of the establishment opens, the small bell above it signaling the entrance of another customer.

“[Y/n?]” Ajax calls, from the sit across you.

You tilt your head to the side, your redhead friend’s eyes focused on something behind you.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” You almost shout, the sound dying down to a whisper the moment his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

“Do you trust me?” He smirks.

“Yes, but-“

“You said yes.” Are Childe’s words before leaning in.

To say he was a good kisser would be an understatement.

His lips on yours feel like a roaring ocean, notes of spearmint and sunshine contained in the secret message in a bottle the waves of him carry. Ajax’s calloused hands cup your jaw, ruddy locks of hair tickling you when he angles his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

You wish this was real.

But would it really be a crime to play your part right now?

Your fingers tangle in his tangerine hued strands, slightly tugging at them as you bring him closer to you.

You don’t care if this is swimming against the current, if you did drown right now, you would go happy.

But because he’d be damned before he let you drown, your best friend pulls away, allowing air back into your lungs.

That’s the very best goddamn kiss you’ve ever been given.

But, alas, sometimes you think “stupid” should be Ajax’s middle name.

When you glance his way, he keeps looking at something beyond you, that shit eating smirk plastered on the lips you want to kiss again.

When you spare a peek over your shoulder, you spot him. Your ex, sitting with some girl, his face ashen as he looks in your direction.

So that’s all this was.

You should have figured, you chide yourself as you fiddle with the straw of your juice.

If you had payed attention, however, you would have noticed a pair of starry blue eyes not leaving you.

—

And after that arrives the day you realize you are screwed.

This was all just supposed to be a make believe charade, not you actually falling for your friend.

Because you can’t deny it anymore; whatever it is Ajax is to you now, it goes way past platonic.

You can’t let these feelings be known. Ever.

But how are you supposed to ignore all of his sweet gestures? His tender touches when holding your hand; the way he remembers your favorite ice cream, smoothie and coffee orders; how he brings you lunch when he ends up cooking too much for his siblings; or the way not only are you stealing his t-shirts on nights you fall asleep at each other’s rooms, but how he now drapes his hoodie over your shoulders, the night breeze uncharacteristically chilly for this time of year.

And that kiss. That goddamn kiss.

And perhaps your last breakup scarred you more than you let on; or maybe you love Ajax too much to keep up this lie with him. But before you can think twice, the words are out of your lips, glacial shards of a broken dream on a midsummer’s night:

“Ajax? Let’s stop doing this.”

Those eyes of his that sparkled in sapphire hues dim again at your statement.

He searches for your gaze, but you won’t look at him.

“Why? Something wrong?” Childe tries for his usual carefree tone, but you know better; the hurt and strained fear in the words he doesn’t speak are clear as day to you.

“Yes! I mean no! I mean…” You sigh. “I don’t think it makes sense anymore.”

In reality, what doesn’t make sense is pretending this relationship of yours is just for show. But you can’t let him know that.

“Got cold feet?” Your friend, or whatever he is now, asks, oceanic gaze glazed over, not a single star reflected in it when he stares skyward.

‘If only you could know’. Is the sentence you don’t let out through bitten lips.

Instead you offer:

“I don’t think this makes sense anymore.” Unconsciously, you adjust his hoodie a little tighter around your figure. “I just- I think I’ve gotten the revenge I wanted. I… I don’t know, I just want to hang out with you again, but honestly, not like this, not for an audience…”

You stop walking, standing a few paces before him.

“We don’t have to do any of this for the public, you know.” Your friend, crush, partner in crime? assures, shortening the distance between you with his long strides.

“But we do.” You sadly whisper, averting your eyes to the side. You can feel wetness pooling on them. Great, just what you needed. “I… I don’t want more fabricated romantic moments, I’ve had enough of love that was never anything to begin with before.” You humorlessly add. “I just, I want the next time I kiss someone or hold their hand… I want it to be real, for it to mean something… and I can’t keep stealing moments like these from you either, Childe.”

Salty droplets start to dye the grey pavement as you keep your eyes glued to it. Everything feels so complicated, so messy…

“I know this was your idea but… I can’t keep-“

“What makes you think it wasn’t real?” Familiar calloused fingers caress your cheeks, gathering the starless wetness sliding down them. “What makes you think you were stealing these moments from me?” Strong arms envelop you, akin to the early morning rays dancing over gentle waves lapping at the seashore. “It was my idea, right? You said it yourself. Why do you think that was?”

“I don’t know!” You sob into his chest. “I guess you were looking for fun, or you wanted to help me…” You wonder, voice a breath away from becoming fragments of a shattered snowglobe.

Ajax chuckles, soft. His hold on you tightens a little. Then:

“You know, sometimes you can be so dumb, [Y/n].” He utters, tone devoid of his usual teasing. “It was my plan, on that you are right.” His hands rest on your shoulders, as he pulls away to look at you. “But I guess now would be a good time to tell you why.” He shifts his weight on his feet, an unusual dusting of pink creeping up his neck caught by the streetlights. “Truth is, I was scared to, well, ask you out normally, I was scared of you saying no. When you started dating him, I hated him, but I hated myself more, for not having been able to prevent it. You looked unhappy.” He shoves his hands in his pants’ pockets. “So I don’t know, I figured maybe if we pretended, we’d keep it up for a while, or maybe if I was lucky, you’d really fall for me… kinda dense, right?”

You sniff, a smile tugging at your lips despite your cries.

“Yeah, definitely stupid.” You laugh softly, through the tears. “But effective.” You admit, glossy eyes searching for the molten northern stars in his stare.

“Wait, so you actually fell-?”

“Ajax. Kiss me. For real this time.” You plead, clutching the front of his baby blue t-shirt, urging him closer to you.

“What makes you think it wasn’t for real the first time?” He smirks, as his lips link with yours for the second time.

Your arms loop around his neck, his hands digging on the flesh of your lower waist, his palms a searing wave under your shirt. Childe’s kiss tastes of fireworks reflected over a still ocean, the quiet of the minutes before midnight in stark contradiction to the wild drumming of your infatuated heart. You stand on your tiptoes, desperately meeting his tidal wave at its zenith, the caress of the blossoming moon above and Ajax’s tongue swiping over your swollen lips sending shivers down your spine.

The clock strikes twelve, and a beeping sound interrupts the reverie.

Grumbling, you fish your phone out of your borrowed jacket’s pocket.

“00:00

Thursday, July 20th.

Ajax’s bday !! <3”

Your lit up screen reads.

You both let out a chuckle.

“Hey, Childe?” You call him. “Make a wish.”

“I don’t need to.” Constellations are reflected in his azure gaze, lovestruck with images of you dancing amongst them, the smile on his face dopey and entranced.

“Let me give you another present, then.” You tell him, pulling him close again. “Happy birthday, Ajax.” You breathe, as his hands hook under your thighs and your lips crash together again, no onlookers but the moon and stars this time.

[tallbluelady]

when they lean in to get something off of their face and the other literally stops breathing for a second

When the second waltz concluded and the pair reluctantly let each other go, Rowan and Urianger found a planter to hide behind lest they be caught by those who wanted to make more small talk, even after they had found a secluded spot.

"I don't know about you, but I feel as though I've had my fill of balls for a lifetime," Rowan said as she sat down on the ground.

"I cannot say that I've attended as many as thou hast, but I do concur that the social aspect doth be rather draining," Urianger nodded.

They talked for a while, mostly about how they never felt comfortable having to make small talk at parties and how they felt as though something was expected of them that no one ever asked for aloud. Then there was a great gust of wind and Rowan felt herself sputtering a bit as loose flower petals from the Menagerie's flowers began to buffet her face. Twas a rather unexpected gale in the evening, and she could have sworn the Skywatchers said the skies were going to be clear for the night of the ball.

"How portentous..." Urianger mused, even as he wiped his face to remove debris from his face. 

"Is it a good or bad portent?" Rowan asked.

"That doth depend on the direction the wind bloweth from. Seeing as the wind blew towards us as the sun set, twas a zephyr - oft a sign of good fortune. Mayhap it serveth to remove Garlemald's influence on Gyr Abania."

"Mayhap it could help our Doman allies return home as well," Rowan said. 

He smiled. "Indeed. A sign from Llymlean for safe passage."

She smiled back, then noticed that there was aught still stuck in Urianger's beard. She told him as much and leaned in to try and get the bit of plant matter out. He gave a soft gasp and Rowan saw his eyes grow wide. She found that her heart was beating harder so she quickly plucked it out and leaned back to avoid anymore awkwardness.

"There, all good." She held up the offending bit of leaf to prove she didn't just lean in for the thrill of it. "Uh, sorry, it caught my attention."

Urianger shook his head and returned to some level of composure. "There doth be naught to forgive."

[piltover-sharpshooter]

 ‘  ✎  ’ 

send  me  ‘  ✎  ’  and  my  muse  will  come  up  with  a  nickname  for  yours  .

"Well you remind me of the tale of Sir Galahad, but I think nicknaming you with another knight's name would be a faux pa, and if I were to give you a title then it would be 'The Path Maker' considering your magicks, but again that's not it..."

She snaps her fingers.

"Gallant Knight, Gale, Wind...Gentle Wind. Zephyr"

@wanderlustknightofmagic

[hockybish]

Christmas Plans

l West Winds au l dad!trevor l masterlist l part 1 l next l

"So are we getting him a cat or dog?" Trevor mused scrolling through his phone one evening. He was looking at animals online from a local shelter, trying to find the right one for Zephyr.

"Neither. I'm not taking care of a kid and an animal while you're not here and I'm trying to graduate" Bean typed away on the computer in her lap. "I'm almost done with school, one more semester, we can think about it then."

"Well then what about giving Zeph a sister or brother?" he tossed his phone to the side, it seemed pointless once Bean said no to the animal. He started placing kisses all over her neck and shoulder.

"Trev, what did I just say?" Bean pushed her beau away. She loved the affection he was giving her, but not when she was trying to writing an important paper for a class.

"You said not to a pet. You said nothing about having another baby."

"No more kids until after graduation. Plus we don't even know what we are. And there are a million other things we need to think about, like where would we live? Because it's already difficult with our two homes as it is." she rambled “and not to mention your family hasn’t even met Zeph yet.”

"Tallulah Bean?" Trevor waited a second so he could have her full attention before continuing. "I love you more than anything, will you be my girlfriend?"

"You know what? Yes." She kissed him this time. Trevor deepened the kiss wanting something more from this happy moment, Bean could tell as much. "No more kids yet though."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we can't at least start trying now." He closed her laptop, placing it off to the side. She wouldn't be needing it for the rest of the night.

"I think we should tell them." Bean ran her fingers through Trevor's hair, they were snuggling in bed after having some adult fun times.

"Who are we telling and why should we tell them this thing?" he leaned into her touch while his eyes remained closed.

"I just think it's time we tell our families about us and more importantly yours about Zeph" she moved on to braiding the longer bit of his hair that had grown out since he last had gotten it cut.

"He knows my family. I think it's time that he knows his other grandma and grandpa and auntie and uncle."

"That, is a great idea, because my mom's only been begging me to bring Zeph around for the better half of a year now."

"Excuse me she's been what now?" Bean was a bit shocked at his confession, but at the same time not surprised he told his mom.

"Yeah, I may or may not have sent her a picture of Zeph like a month after he was born and I guess she figured it out from that." Trevor told her about what he did. "And Ellen's been sending her pictures too."

He explained how it had really only been this past summer, when they had been in Connecticut and so close to his family, that she had been asking to meet her grandson, but he had told her that it was something he would have to discuss with Bean. And with all the contract stuff going on and them trying to mend the what he had broken, it just slipped his mind.

"It's settled then, we're going to New York for Christmas."

"It's gonna be a short trip. I have a game on the 23rd and another on the 27th. That's not a lot of time for him to get to know everyone properly."

"We'll make it work, we always do"

[gremlins-hotel]

Any more Romerica thoughts or headcanons? 🙏❤️

i'm very sorry to disappoint you, dear traveler, but no headcanons this time around. however, i can bring you a short piece of writing! based in @temtamoo's engita pirate au where romerica is a b-ship. romano gets dragged out by alfred and seb to test one of alfred's ridiculous flying machines (based on ornithopters and otto lilienthal's famous gliders!).

Bright wind whisked across rolling hills of verdant grass. In the sky hung the sun, one curious and watchful eye amidst the bow of blue around it. The sweet smell of grass wafting into Romano’s nostrils drew a wistful sigh from his lips. Sebastiano bounced excitedly beside him, the younger boy near to bursting and unable to focus on a single point in the plains surrounding them.

They were far outside their family shipyard and the city in the Volan Hills; a feat far more manageable when you had your own gondola to reach to the plains at the borderlands of the watery kingdom. Few went here, which was just as well since it meant less of an audience for whatever experiment Romano had been dragged out for by his restless younger brother and fiancé. And fewer people to see any possible crash that the two brothers would have to drag him back from.

A few feet away toiled a taller body, enraptured by manmade wings of wooden frame and stretched cloth. Alfred reverently unfolded the willow bones and barely could Romano hear him speaking over the wily breeze, trying in vain to explain his flying machine to them both. “...and it’s controlled by weight shift! See here in a moment, when I leap from the ridge, I’m going to try and lift, then bank.”

“Just don’t break your wrist this time,” Romano called over the wind. Only a laugh answered. Romano rolled his eyes playfully, though he knew Alfred wouldn’t see, distracted as he was. Turning to Sebastiano, still rocking happily from heel to toe, Romano quickly added, “And you are never doing this. If I catch wind of you getting hold of one of his crazy gliders, you’ll be under house arrest indefinitely.”

“Oh, but brother,” Sebastiano pleaded with big eyes, “come on—”

“Absolutely not!” he reinforced with brows scrunched, yet still grinning. It was enough that Seb spent so much time watching his fiancé tinker and fidget with all the spare parts he could. Truly, Romano was thankful Alfred could teach his little brother so much, though how useful it was, he wasn’t sure, but at least the boy could learn to dream large in a small world. It could be hard when your life was spent amongst keels and sails yet never spent on the water. That was Feliciano’s gambit.

Alfred busied himself with the straps and controls of the glider, still addressing them, “So this time, I’ve added a stabilizing tail. I don’t know how I didn’t think to try sooner. I mean, how many times do we see birds use their tails to rudder and to flare for drag when landing? Mark down a loss for my intelligence on that one, ha!”

“It always takes a few good tries, right?” Seb called.

You’re the only man I know that walks with two feet yet has a head so far in the clouds that it chirps Romano mused. Full of hot air. He would never tell him that out loud, at least not yet. Actually, it would probably be worth it, he thought. Just for the look on Alfred’s face. Later, though. He smiled to himself and continued to observe patiently. A mess of steel wires that his love claimed were for control glinted in the dazzling sun, catching his eye.

Soon the three of them stood atop a wide ridge, a gently slanting slope beneath. It towered above several other hills and spilled into a deep green bowl of thick ground cover. Height to catch the zephyrous sky and length to glide, and hopefully something soft to catch Alfred if he had one of his rather infamous skid landings. White wings caught the sun, the parts of the cloth with any give bowing as if yearning for the wind. Romano briefly hoped that the ‘something soft’ would be unnecessary, wondering quickly if his worry was a mite too late.

The sail wings were of great breadth, though to bear the much larger man, they had to be. Broad and white in the day. They reminded Romano of a great stork or sea eagle with their frames that nearly resembled the lay of feathers at the leading edge. Sprouting from Alfred’s shoulders like the mantle of the Guardian spirit, they bounced with some of his movements. In his hands, he held their yoke and Alfred whipped his head to give both Sebastiano and Romano a confident smile, all teeth. He winked at the latter.

“Ready?”

Both brothers nodded, one hopeful and the other concerned. Flipping down goggles of his own make, Alfred shot them a thumbs up and backed up a few steps. He would run straight into a fierce headwind as it rolled up the slope, the goal to catch a lift and glide. Supposedly this version of the machine had a feature he refused to tell either of them that would help, or so he said. Romano couldn’t let himself overthink how dangerous this show could be. It had been hard enough to convince him to come and he couldn’t turn back now.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, the man gave a loud cheer as the pilot pushed himself into a sprint across the grass. Legs bunched and sprung. Romano closed his eyes and felt a nervous jitter in his chest. He heard a shout to release pressure. A windy snap. Then a loud holler. Romano’s heart raced madly but he didn’t think he could open his eyes to see whatever carnage might be down the ridge. Suddenly Seb was latched to his arm and shaking him frantically, “Look, look!”

Forced to crack open his eyes, Romano was assaulted by the brilliant sun. Past them, following Sebastiano’s firm point, he spied a massive bird hanging in the air.

Alfred’s legs hung loosely beneath bending wings and Romano felt something grip his chest when his fiancé, alongside his contraption, sank down at warm, mistral whim. Like two ships on a wild collision course, he couldn’t look away, wanting to yell caution, but his voice froze. Why Seb was so calm he couldn’t understand.

Then long legs tucked and the curl of the pilot’s body seemed to smooth out his flight. The glider even lifted a couple of feet. Watching rapt as Alfred leaned his lower body to one side, the wings following and drifting him in that direction, then the other. He drew a serpentine in the sky, back and forth with far too much confidence for wings of cotton and wood. Romano did shout when Alfred grew daring and pitched his body up and forward, kicking the glider into a flare like a diving hawk. It flipped head over tail and the pair somersaulted midair. The shipwright swore he could hear the contagious laughter of a madman echo on the breeze as he turned right-side up and continued to descend.

“Stop that! You really will break something!” he called uselessly. Seb laughed at his outburst. Romano turned on him. “How are you so calm?”

“Is this the first time you’ve been out here?” his little brother asked with a tilt of his head, only briefly looking at him.

“Yes!” Romano’s tone was exasperated.

Seb giggled with mischief, “Then this is the first time you’ve seen him do that?”

“Yes,” he repeated.

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you that was how Alfred broke his wrist that one time. He tried to flip and on the up-and-over, he went into a nosedive. Bracing was the issue,” explained the teen with too much of a casual air.

Romano decided he would ground them both if that happened again. Hell, even when Alfred landed. He’d tried to when the pair had come back from the Volan Hills months before, Sebastiano carrying a ruined glider and Alfred holding one arm rather pathetically beside him. Of course, it hadn’t worked for long. They wouldn’t be here if it had.

“Watch!” Came a faint cry. The brothers turned their attention to their daredevil friend. When Alfred seemed sure that he had their gaze, they saw his elbows move vaguely. White wings flapped, truly flapped, and the pilot was given a meager buoy. Sebastiano’s eyes popped from his skull and he yelled with fervently, hands flying to his hair. With weak strokes the airframe flexed again, flapping slowly like a gliding seabird. Though rather useless overall, they could still see as the powered flight gave their friend just that much more ballast against the sky. Heavier than air, yet still they soared.

Until the airframe wobbled dangerously on one downstroke. The right wing folded awkwardly in a wrong arc, crumpling slightly. With horror Romano saw as the change in airfoil caused Alfred to list perilously, the glider tipping over the pilot’s head and going into a slanted dive. He would crash and Romano knew it. Romano felt suddenly seized.

For once thinking with his feet, he launched himself off the lip of the ridge and slid down the dirt, mourning the loss of his nice, clean breeches. He hated that the bottom of the slope seemed so close yet so far. Terror caught his throat as he floundered to stand as the end of the hill approached. He rose into a stumbling sprint, watching in distress as the glider careened into green earth. The sickening snap of wooden wings and the rip of twill made Romano’s stomach turn, only praying that there wasn’t the snap of anything else. Thankfully, hopefully, he heard no scream of pain as he approached the heap of Alfred and glider.

Laid out on his back in the thick grass with pieces of the contraption still harnessed to him was Alfred. He must have rolled when the glider smashed down. No part of him looked twisted or out of place the closer he drew and Romano stopped with a tremble, putting his hands on his knees and letting out a relieved pant. Alfred dazedly turned his head to Romano and it made frustration rise in the shorter man to see that a massive, stupid grin was plastered across his features.

“It worked!” Was all the tinkerer exclaimed. No greeting, no ‘I’m fine’. Still Alfred’s dopey smile persisted.

Romano sputtered, bewildered, “I- you crashed! What do you mean it worked!”

“I may have crashed, but Ro, the flapping worked! Did you see the lift I got? I think if I could reinforce the wings we could try—”

“We? Alfred, no.” Romano cut him off with a frustrated bark. “Only you are crazy enough to do this, you big, stupid, vacuous idiot. By the Guardian, you are never doing this again!” Sebastiano rolled up behind them both, panting harshly.

“Aw, c’mon Ro! Look, I swear I’ll be safer next time. I didn’t even get hurt!” Alfred protested, not getting up from the grass but instead speaking with his hands beneath Romano’s nose.

“You still crashed! And who knows what scrapes and bruises are under your clothes? Love, no,” fretted the shorter man. He hung his head in disbelief, shaking it loosely at Alfred. “You will one day give me a heart attack and then who will keep you from turning into a meat mash at the bottom of the sea cliffs someday?”

“Mmm, I think you’re stronger than that. You’d live,” came the coy response. “Okay, but what if, one day, I make us a glider that could carry more than one person? We could fly together!”

“You mean crash together?”

“Ye of little faith!” Alfred laughed, reaching up both arms toward Romano as if to grab him into a hug. Romano lifted away before he could fall for the trap.

Offering one hand to his fiancé, Romano vigorously shook his head once more, “Let’s just get you home before you get any more insane ideas! We’re missing a perfectly good day for lunch.”

Both Seb and Alfred followed, flight forgotten at the mention of food.

[dcviated]

setting prompts :: open

send one for our muses to meet in a unique scenario~

@kazimehz sent: 20) an overgrown garden in a heatwave for that meme! send your worst, no one will notice a fresh grave in that setting ;'D

For the first week or so it had been a joke. Zephyr, the wind-flitting Liberi taking a spiritual sabbatical from Rhodes Island to escape untoward attention. Teasing is one thing, but the trail of disaster that had dogged him in the prelude was anything but that. So. The philandering man sought a measure of pace.

And here he was. Is? Might be for longer. 'Here' being rural plains far from any semblance of society or a corner store. Thus living off ... well, this is where one would say 'the land' but really its the generosity of the rancher mercifully employing him. Not quite the perfect naturalist yet.

"I'd like to think I'm getting better at it~!" The assassin remarks to a particularly slow fluffybeast. It responds with a baa, then continues toddling into the barn with its brethren. "Oy! Where's your fucking faith?! Some support?! Psh, another month and I bet I can do it by myself. You're gonna feel so stupid ... tag number ... UB-546." To be expected the conversation was going nowhere.

And neither was the fucking sun. Or the labor to be done. The heat-baked metal latch nearly burns his arm when closing the gate. You'd think, being a bird of the north (not willingly) that the caress of a hot sun would be welcome. But this is ridiculous. Not to mention he still had the grounds outside the barn to take care of. Grown over with ivy and other untended greenery.

The shelter and shade of the barn could not be his companion just yet. With a reluctant sigh (if he doesn't finish this he probably won't get fed) he grabs a machete from the supply closet and then, in a flourish of wind, warps over to where his task awaited him. Earbuds? On. Music? Start. Heat? Unrelenting. Plants? So fucking many.

Lets get this bread.

...the work progresses unremarkably for about an hour. It happens (or he realizes it happens) halfway through taking off his shirt to quell some of the scathing heat. Arms are just about to crest his shoulders with the messy article when he notices her out of the corner of his eye. Standing there. Staring impatiently at him.

Her.

...her?!

FEMALE SPOTTED.

Had Rhodes found him? Zephyr instinctively yanks his shirt down, the fear of what may have been triggered by that exhibition almost sending him into a panic. But. Who the fuck was this?!

"...hi. Uh." Zephyr wipes his brow of sweat after slipping down the earbuds, and, yes. She's still there. Still real. Looks frustrated. Which if you can believe it is a welcome emotion compared to others before. "Sorry bout that. Can I... help you? Lost or something? Not looking to steal fluffybeasts or anything, right?" He cranes his neck to peer around her, in the off chance there were others. Or something else that might give hint into why this woman had arrived.

And there was. In the distance down by the rough worn road that cuts through these pastures, he spots a vehicle. And. Through the haze of hot summer sun he can make out with his sharp Liberi eyes that there was even more nastiness wafting from the hood. Hm.

"Oh. Maybe I can guess."

[theframedrabbit]

The Many Births of Venus 🐚

From the film The Adventures of Baron Munchausen to Aurora’s music video Exist for Love, the Venus has been an icon of love and beauty for ages.

But who is this muse? And why are we so enamored with her?

From a garden wall at the Casa della Venere in Conchiglia, Pompeii, before AD 79

Venus was a Roman Goddess of known for her captivating beauty and romantic wiles. She was worshipped as the ancestor of the Romans for hopes of love, fertility, and prosperity.

Her Greek counterpart, Aphrodite, was also known for her seductive charm as the goddess of love.

Venus had numerous epithets, but the most favored -and typically depicted- one is the Venus Anadyomene, an aquatic figure reminiscent of the siren or mermaid. 🧜‍♀️

She had ties to Dionysus, the gods of wine - a dynamic duo🍷❣️

Her symbols include the rose🌹 (how fitting), myrtle 🌿(believed to be an aphrodisiac), the fishing rod🎣 (she’s a catch 😉), and the scallop shell 🐚 (a symbol of female genitalia)

To point out the obvious, she’s a hyper-sexualized figure of desire.

It’s no wonder why the female nude was a favored subject of art: the woman figure is lovely to depict. However, Venus is an icon of its power; the power to influence society with the medium of the feminine form. The inspiring image deeply moves us, motivates us, captivates us. It is the perfect symbol of love and might. It is a reminder of birth and origin; the sweet beginnings of life and the strength it took to bring it here. It is an image of the intimacy we all long for: to be known, cherished, and desired. And that is why the Venus is a timeless staple of the human experience.

Okay that’s great and all, but why is her birth so important?

Oh yes, of course let me get back on track:

Venus - born of seafoam, blown to the shore in a shell by wind deities Zephyr and Aura, clothed with roses by Flora, the Hora of Spring - is fully grown. Having skipped adolescence and in a perpetual state of virginity, she is the perfect candidate for the position of sex-goddess. She is the crown of creation - the magnum opus of all existence - the pièce de résistance of divinity. Basically, she’s the cherry on top; the cream of the crop. 🌸🍒

Those moments before her birth must have felt like the *drumroll please* before the most magnificent thing you’ve ever beheld was flashed before your eye-holes. 🥁TA-DA!✨It was the most ground-breaking, fire-cracking, bomb-dropping moment in all collective history.🎆 Everyone must have been cheering, clapping, and loudly crying “This is what we were WAITING for!”👏 It was THAT monumental -at least for the Romans worshippers.

Her birth was like the moment your Amazon delivery FINALLY makes its way to your doorstep. At long last, Love and Beauty are here to stay! 💕📦💨

[proseofthepast]

003, a photoshoot outdoors in the middle of winter.

⤷ xia fei ›› vein !

Winter is worst at midday. Frost eats away at every surface despite the sun hanging overhead; the city is drowned in white, cold light akin to snow. The streets have been stripped free of their liveliness in favour of filling the roads instead, passengers kept warm behind their windows rather than with knitted gloves and heavy coats. Vein is one such exception. His blood is already frigid, he has whetted icicles for teeth and nails, and behind him trails wintery isolation in his footsteps. All he has is a scarf loosely around his neck and a flame held to the end of a cigarette to nurse for warmth.

He doesn't mind, though, and he barely shudders beneath every freezing zephyr that ghosts along his skin. His appearance on set is marked by his lack of consideration for the weather and the smoke clouding around him before it's carried away by the wind. Every face behind a light or camera is stuffed within a winter sweater or a thicker jacket, hats pulled over their hair and gloves pulled over their fingers (which, hopefully, don't affect the security with which they handle their equipment). It's ironic, because Xia Fei seems to be the only one similarly not dressed for the weather.

Maybe he does look particularly captivating here. Maybe the white light of a winter sky he's enshrouded in paints him in an ethereal manner -- his skin glows, snowflakes cling to him until he looks statuesque, and sunlight settles over the crown of his hair like an arched halo. Vein understands the appeal. He truly does. He'd swept Xia Fei up into modelling for a reason, after all, and he stands aside to muse on his beauty a while, smiling around a mouthful of smoke and enticed fangs.

But Xia Fei shudders after every shift in pose, and really, he should have longer sleeves and a couple more layers than he currently has.

The camera shutters halt when Vein walks into frame, approaching that shaking leaf of a model directly. And when he's close enough, he quite literally reaches out to grab his face, moulding his expression into a forced pout. Xia Fei's skin is ice cold beneath his touch, but soft regardless. The contact might be unnecessary, but Vein only lets go a moment after, humming with a light sense of disapproval. "Take a break," he says. "You're cold."

Tugging the scarf from around his neck, he moves forward to hang it over Xia Fei's shoulders instead. He follows it up with a flick to his forehead- or several, chiding, "what do you expect me to do with you if you freeze on set?"

[forthedancingandthethriving]

(I d e a s.)

TW: Blood, injury, and death

○●○

"Shit-!"

Tama let's out a muffled cry as she's dropped to the muddy ground. The cloth around her muzzle is stained with both blood and now mud too.

She wriggles in her binds the best she can to sit upright. Mud and rainwater cling to her fur as she squints, head throbbing and vision blurry.

It had all happened so fast. Some random Cats had broken into her room, grabbed her, and ran.

Tama didn't know whether to be annoyed or upset, considering this was becoming a slow recurring theme. Cats were taking her a lot more often now. Word was slowly getting out she was from the long forgotten Aire Village, and they were known for their strange affinity for magic. Among.. other things.

"Found you." The voice of Dolion hisses. There's two pairs of footsteps.

"I'm going to make you wish that it was Valiant who found you first."

"W-Wait? Cozbi?! Is that-?!"

Tama squeezed her eyes shut, and it felt as though someone was covering her ears.

Do not open your eyes, kit. The wind whispers to her. Do not open them.

She doesn't. She doesn't open her eyes to see Dolion cut down the kidnapper's body. She doesn't hear how he snarls.

She does, however, feel as she's picked up.

The paws move from her ears, and Arthur whispers, "you can open your eyes, Tama."

Tama doesm. Arthur is smiling down at her, his cream-colored fur gently catching the light. He presses his nose to her forehead. "You aren't hurt, right?"

She shakes her head before pointing to the cloth around her muzzle. He blinks in surprised before carefully cutting it off. With a soft hum of a spell, the cuts and bruises on her were gone too.

"What happened to the other bad guys?" Tama asks softly.

Arthur doesn't look down at the blood mixing with the mud. "They're all taken care of. Do you know why they took you?"

"They said something about getting paid.." She remarks softly.

He nods. "Sleep. We'll be back at the castle soon."

The kit nods and rests her head on his chest, closing her eyes. He watches her closing, before the Flamepoint cat turns his head.

His ears lower a bit, seeing Dolion standing over the one body and the few others he had cut down when the first dropped Tama. The brown and white Ragamuffin cat's grip on his sword was trembling.

"They knew your old name." Arthur spoke softly.

"Someone back in Devos employed them." Dolion finishes his thought, turning his head.

Silence hangs for a moment before Dolion kneels down, plucking an emble off of one of the kidnappers. He frowns.

"What.. is this?"

Arthur approaches and his ears pin back.

The emblem seemed to be golden, but it was far too yellow and orange. Carved into it was something clearly.. not a cat. It’s muzzle was too long, and it maw was wide open. It was standing on four legs, fur bristled.

".. terrifying." Arthur whispers, tail bristling.

Dolion pockets it before sheathing the sword he held. "Lets get going. Valiant's going to what to know what happened."

"Do you think she'll be upset?" Arthur frowns as the two begins to walk. "That we just killed them?"

"No." Dolion answers matter of factly. "You know she won't."

He nods softly, and his tail gently wraps around Dolion's. He smiles as his partner's does the same.

○●○

He kneeled before the queen, wrists bound behind his back. Commander Valiant held the tip of her sword to his neck, but her face was conflicted. Arthur stood by the queen's throne as Queen Melody looked down with a slight frown.

"You were desprate." The queen of Luminos finally spoke. "You wouldn't have taken King Umbra's bounty if you weren't."

It was silent before he spoke. ".. You're right. We're all desprate." He laughed coarsely. "I thought that, 'hey, here's a chance to get out of this hellhole'."

He hung his head more. "And, even if I fail, I'll die. I won't have to stay there anymore."

Valiant's eyes had softened the smallest bit. "Who did you work for?" The commander still demanded.

".. the group has no name." He admitted. "But, sometimes, we go by the Teeth in the Dark. It's what the Cats in Devos call us."

".. what is your name?"

"Cozbi."

Queen Melody frowned. "If Arthur hadn't stopped you from putting that poison in my tea, would you have still done it?" An unknown emotion crossed her eyes. "Or.. would you have drank it yourself?"

The silence hung in the air. His answer was apparent.

"Valiant, step away from him."

The commander nodded, and she took those steps back. The heels of the queen clacked as she descended the stairs. Soon, she kneeled in front of her would-be murderer.

Gently, she cupped his face to make him look at her. Gently, she brushed a finger over his fur.

"Be one of my retainers," she offered, "and I will offer you protection from Umbra. This incident will never be spoken of. I'll make it seem like you disappeared." Queen Melody smiled gently. "You'll be safe here."

His throat had felt so dry, that day.

And yet the tears had fallen when he said yes.

○●○

Cozbi. "A liar, sliding away."

Dolion. “to deceive,” “to lure craftily,” “to use deceit” or “to lie.”

To outsiders, the name seemed almost identical. But not to Dolion. This new name was not only his way to atone, but to till do what he did best. Lie, to keep himself safe. But now, it extended to those he cared about.

Entering the palace, he merely smiles as Nimbus and Ambrosia rush up, with the Songbird taking the now sleeping kit from Arthur's arms.

"They're getting bold." Queen Melody remarks as she approaches. From behind, the familiar sound of metal clanking as Commander Valiant approaches is also heard. "This is the first time they did a kidnapping."

"That, and someone from Devos did it." Dolion narrows his eyes.

"Devos?" Nimbus's fur bristles. "How do you know?"

"Their accents, and.. this." He takes the emblem out of his pocket. From the way it was made, it was clearly from Devos. There craftsmanship was undeniable.

But the animal..

"That's some sort of canine." Nimbus frowns.

"Canine? Like those strange animals SMG8 sometimes has?" Valiant tilts her head

The Avatar nods. "Sort of, yeah. But it's really hard to tell what this one is.."

"Regardless, I'll bring this up with King Damien next time I see him." Melody sighs. "I thought the cats of Devos were happy under his rule! By Bliss, I'm going to get gray furs at this rate.."

Dolion frowns as he looks at the emblem.

He didn't know why.. but he had a sinking feeling that this wouldn't be the last time they'd see this symbol.

[hellobloger0000]

Timeless & Trendy: Exploring the World of Baby Girl Names

Choosing a name for your baby is a deeply emotional and exciting experience. With thousands of baby girl names to choose from, the process can feel overwhelming—but also incredibly meaningful. Whether you're searching for a rare gem, a time-tested classic, or a name with deep cultural roots, there's something beautiful waiting to be discovered.

The Power of a Name

A baby’s name often becomes a core part of their identity. Studies suggest that the names we give our children can influence first impressions, confidence levels, and even professional outcomes. That’s why choosing the right baby girl names is more than just a matter of taste—it's a lasting gift.

Classic Baby Girl Names That Never Go Out of Style

If you’re drawn to names that carry elegance and grace across generations, consider these classic baby names:

Elizabeth – A royal name meaning “pledged to God.”

Charlotte – French in origin, and now globally popular.

Catherine – Timeless and regal.

Grace – A simple, soft, and meaningful name.

These baby girl names have stood the test of time and offer both beauty and dignity.

Rare Baby Girl Names for Something Truly Unique

If you're aiming for distinction, rare baby girl names are ideal. These names are unusual but still easy to pronounce and remember:

Isabeau – A medieval French variant of Isabelle.

Calista – Meaning “most beautiful,” from Greek.

Zephyra – Derived from “Zephyr,” a soft wind.

Thalia – One of the nine Muses in Greek mythology.

Using uncommon baby girl names ensures your child has a name that stands out in a world of Emmas and Olivias.

Unique Fact: A study by Harvard linguists found that rare names, when positively associated, may lead to higher memorability in social and professional interactions—a potential advantage in branding and networking later in life.

Baby Names by Meaning: Let the Message Guide You

Many parents today are choosing baby girl names based on the values or qualities they hope their children will embody. Names with strong or inspiring meanings can feel more intentional and heartfelt.

Here are some examples of baby names by meaning:

Asha – Sanskrit for “hope” or “wish.”

Verity – Latin origin, meaning “truth.”

Amity – Reflecting “friendship” and peace.

Nadine – Derived from “hope” in Slavic languages.

Choosing baby girl names based on meaning can serve as a lifelong message and inspiration.

Cute Baby Girl Names That Melt Hearts

Sometimes, the best name is the one that simply feels sweet and endearing. These cute baby names strike the perfect balance between charm and style:

Luna – Latin for “moon,” soft and celestial.

Ella – Short, melodic, and immensely popular.

Poppy – Playful and floral.

Tilly – A diminutive form of Matilda, cheerful and warm.

These names are perfect for parents who want something adorable, yet not overly trendy.

Hindu Baby Girl Names with Spiritual Significance

For many families, especially in India and the Indian diaspora, Hindu baby girl names rooted in mythology and Sanskrit hold profound meaning. These names often carry spiritual or philosophical weight.

Some popular options include:

Anvika – Meaning “powerful” or “strong.”

Lakshmi – The name of the Hindu goddess of wealth.

Diya – Signifying light and radiance.

Ira – A short and elegant name meaning “earth.”

Such baby girl names connect children to ancient traditions while sounding modern and fresh.

Geographic Influence: Baby Names from Around the World

Looking beyond your own culture can open doors to unique and meaningful baby girl names. Geography plays a major role in naming conventions, and you might find a gem from a region you admire or have a personal connection to.

Consider these internationally inspired names:

Soraya – Persian origin, associated with stars.

Nala – Swahili name meaning “gift.”

Freja – A Scandinavian goddess of love and beauty.

Chiara – Italian name meaning “clear” or “bright.”

These names give your child a global flair and an open door to cultural richness.

Nature-Inspired Baby Girl Names

The natural world is full of poetic inspiration. Parents who appreciate the outdoors or value eco-conscious living often lean toward baby girl names inspired by nature.

Top picks include:

Ivy – A symbol of fidelity and growth.

Autumn – A seasonal name with warm tones.

Rain – Soft and refreshing, evoking calmness.

Sage – Signifying wisdom and a fragrant herb.

These baby girl names not only sound beautiful but also connect your child with the elements of nature.

The Rise of Gender-Neutral Girl Names

Gender-neutral names are becoming more popular for baby girls. These names challenge traditional norms and often convey strength, confidence, and adaptability.

Popular gender-neutral baby girl names include:

Riley – Spirited and versatile.

Quinn – Sharp and modern.

Harper – Trendy and literary.

Jordan – A timeless unisex name.

These names offer a forward-thinking, progressive edge that many modern parents appreciate.

Tips for Naming Your Baby Girl

To narrow down the vast pool of baby girl names, consider these practical tips:

Check the initials – Make sure they don’t spell anything awkward.

Say it aloud – It should flow well with your last name.

Avoid trends you’ll regret – Choose something that will age well.

Test it across generations – Will it sound good when she’s 5, 25, and 55?

Research name meanings – You might be surprised what a beautiful name truly stands for.

Remember, the right name will feel right the moment you say it.

Combining First and Middle Names

The best baby girl names often shine brightest when paired with a complementary middle name. Here are some examples to get your creativity flowing:

Zara Elise

Aria Noelle

Leena Mae

Sienna Rae

Test different combinations to find the sound, rhythm, and sentiment that feels best to you.

The Influence of Media on Baby Names

Books, movies, and celebrities continue to play a big role in baby girl names. Characters from popular TV shows or bestselling novels often inspire parents.

Examples include:

Arya (from Game of Thrones)

Bella (from Twilight)

Elsa (from Frozen)

Juniper (gaining traction through modern literature)

Media-fueled names can be trendy but also meaningful if tied to characters with admirable traits.

Unique Fact: According to a survey by parenting app BabyName+, 22% of parents in 2024 reported they chose their baby’s name after a fictional character, indicating how storytelling continues to influence name preferences.

Conclusion: A Name That Grows With Her

As you navigate through the world of baby girl names, remember that the perfect name is one that holds meaning to you and feels right for your child. Whether you're drawn to rare, traditional, spiritual, or nature-inspired names, trust your instincts and choose with love.

Every name tells a story—and your baby girl’s story is just beginning. The name you choose will accompany her in laughter, learning, love, and everything in between.

[charmybee]

@homingshot asked: ⛄ for my muse to try to convince yours to help build a snowman in the fresh snow

Large white flakes lazily float down, veiling roads and roofs. They sail the wind, making the uneven even, piling high enough that snowdrifts were indistinguishable from blanketed park benches. In the midst of blinding white flew Charmy, joining the flakes as they danced in the wind; carefree and frolicsome as always. But he stops, the calm zephyr of the field growing fierce for a moment as something speeds by. Amber comes to squint to the bright cerulean in the distance– A gasp, “ Sonic! “ he cries out, an alarming tinge of helplessness in that small voice, but of course a cursory glance reveals nothing out of the ordinary, just a lone bee surrounded by endless white.

As he lands just before the other he realizes, huh, this feels kind of familiar…

“ Wait- you’re the funny looking Sonic! “ he gawks at the other for merely a second, attention zipping back to the crisis at hand. “ Anyway- you have to play with me, no one else will even step outside!! I’m gonna make a snowman so big stupid Vector and Espio can’t ignore it! But uhm… ”

He turns, pulling attention to the dozen poorly stacked homunculi one might call snowmen- if snowmen were two foot spheres littered in rocks.

“ You have to help me, please? “ palms claps, shaking between pleas, “ Please-please-please pleaaaaaase? “

[powerbandits]

The Tale of Faerleana and Elandor: A Most Enchanting Odyssey

In verdant realms where sunlight doth weave through boughs, and where the dulcet whispers of the zephyrs carry tales of yore, there lived a fairy, named Faerleana, whose laughter could call forth blooms in the chill of winter's breath. She was a sprite, as nimble as a sunbeam and as radiant as the morning star; her gossamer wings, like the finest lace, shimmered with a myriad of colors, reflecting both delight and mischief in equal measure.

In the same enchanted woods, where the brooks flowed with crystal clarity and the trees held council with ancient wisdom, there resided an elf named Elandor. Noble and fair, he bore the stature of oak, his hair flowing like the rivers that meandered under the twilight sky. His countenance was serene, yet his charms whispered tales of adventure that kindled a fire in the hearts of all folk — fae, human, and beast alike.

Though oft their kind were segregated by the ancient ties of their races, Faerleana and Elandor forged a bond most rare, united by their fervent desire to roam beyond the boundaries of their enchanted home. It was in the twilight of midsummer, as the stars began to awaken and twinkle, that they struck upon a notion most delightful — they would seek the fabled Crystal Lake, whose waters were said to possess the power to reveal one’s truest self.

Their journey commenced with the twilight's embrace, as they flitted through emerald groves, the shadows dancing around them like old friends. Faerleana soared above, trailing laughter bright as a hundred flaring candles, whilst Elandor, his keen eyes scanning the underbrush, ensured no peril would befall them; for the forest was alive with secrets — some wondrous and others nefarious.

As the hour marked the first starlit canopy, they encountered a winding path paved by the silver glow of moonlight. On this path did they behold a curious creature, a boggle with skin as mottled as autumn leaves, struck by a quandary that rendered him speechless.

“Why dost thou linger, O creature of mirth and magic?” inquired Faerleana, flitting closer like a hummingbird drawn to nectar.

“Alas!” spake the boggle with abating breath, “I seek mine own reflection from the fabled mirror of the marsh, yet have I lost mine way, and the light of hope doth dim.”

Elandor stepped forth with a heart of compassion, “Worry not, dear sprite. We shall accompany thee to the mirror, and together, we shall restore the light to thy eyes and spirit.”

Thus, the trio set forth into the heart of the wood, where treachery and trickery brewed like stormy clouds. The moon, a sentinel in the sky, cast silver rays upon their path, guiding them past gnarled roots and whispers of the past. Each step resonated with the harmonies of the night, as crickets sang an airy tune amid the rustle of leaves.

Within an hour’s wandering, they arrived at the marsh, a phosphorescent pond shimmering beneath a veil of mystery. The air filled with an iridescent fog, and in its depths lay the illustrious mirror, framed in wild vines and glistening dewdrops. However, fateful was this moment, for the marsh was guarded by a mischievous will-o'-the-wisp, whose trickery was known to belay even the savviest of travelers.

“Halt, fair ones!” chimed the will-o'-the-wisp, voice twinkling like stars in a midnight sky. “To gaze into this reflective pool, a riddle thou must solve. Answer wisely, lest ye be adrift for all eternity!”

With a flourish, it posed the riddle: “I can fly without wings. I can cry without eyes. Wherever I go, darkness flies. What am I?”

The air thickened with tension as the boggle's brows furrowed, a mixture of fear and desperation etched upon his face. Elandor’s brow furrowed as he pondered the riddle, while Faerleana, her heart alight with curiosity, danced upon the water's edge.

“Think, dear friends! What flies, yet is not bound to wings? What brings forth tears without the capacity to weep?” she mused aloud.

Elandor, illuminated by the glow of inspiration, ventured forth steadily, “It is the cloud! It brings forth rain from the heavens, and in its fleeting form sweeps across the azure vastness.”

“Aye!” exclaimed Faerleana, as her voice rang melodious like a chime of silver bells. “The cloud is indeed correct!”

The will-o'-the-wisp, aglow with begrudging respect, did relent, “Thou hast answered true. Pass ye on, brave souls, and choose wisely when thou dost gaze into the mirror.”

With hearts elevated, they approached the shimmering water, and the boggle peered first into the depths. Alas, he saw not a form, but rather the essence of joy and laughter that resided in his heart, reflected in ripples of happiness. His eyes sparkled anew, the reflection banished his doubts; for he was not bound by the specifics of form, but rather by the light of spirit.

Next, it was Faerleana's turn. She approached the mirror, and as the water settled, she beheld a vision of a grand palace amidst fields of blooming flowers, laughter echoing through sunlit halls — a world where every heart found freedom to dance. And there, within this vision, she beheld not only beauty but the love she shared — a connection unbound by race or realm.

At last, Elandor stepped forward, his noble visage cast in ethereal light. The mirror revealed not only his own reflection but the essence of every creature he had ever aided, every secret he had unearthed, and every bond he had forged in hope and bravery. His heart surged with pride, for he was the guardian of all, a bridge between worlds, painted vividly in starlit promises.

With each vision garnered, the trio felt the pang of a shared joy; their spirits intertwined like vines of an ancient tree. Yet, as they relished their discoveries, a tremor of darkness rippled across the marsh, heralding an ominous presence. The air thickened as shadows gathered, coalescing into a fearsome figure cloaked in malice, the dark sorceress Kalthara, who coveted the mirror’s power.

“Foul knaves!” she thundered, her voice a tempest that shattered the peace of the sacred glade. “You dare trespass upon my dominion? Surrender the magic revealed, or face the consequences of your insolence!”

With courage ignited, Elandor raised his sword — forged from the fires of the earth, imbued with sorcery. “We shall not yield! Each of us bears a light that is not easily extinguished.”

And so, the stage was set for a confrontation that would resonate through the annals of time. Faerleana, summoning the essence of her magic, fluttered in quick circles, weaving a tapestry of dazzling lights that enveloped Kalthara in a whirl of colors. Elandor, a steadfast shield, stood resolutely against the shadows that threatened to engulf them, rallying their resolve.

The battle waged on, fraught with enchantments that danced like fireflies in the night. Kalthara unleashed fierce storms, but the heart of the brave companions beat like a drum, relentless in their harmony. With a singular swift motion, Faerleana summoned the essence of the lake, drawing forth the power of reflection and clarity.

“Face the truth of thyself, Kalthara!” her voice rang clear, reverberating through the very fabric of the forest. At that moment, the power of the mirror’s vision surged forward, revealing the heart of the sorceress hidden beneath layers of despair and darkness.

As the mirror's light enveloped her, the shadows retreated, revealing the sorrow that festered within her soul. No longer a figure of contempt, but a heart scarred by betrayal and abandonment, Kalthara felt the weight of her malice dissipate. Glistening tears cascaded down her face as she beheld her own reflection — lost, yet still longing for connection.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, her voice quaking with vulnerability. “In my quest for power, I have neglected my own heart.”

Breathless, Elandor stepped forward with compassion, “It is not too late. Embrace the light within, and you may find redemption. Let us weave a new path together, where fellowship conquers despair.”

Slowly, the shadows flickered and faded, as Kalthara extended her hand, a truce written amidst the remnants of darkness. With every step towards forgiveness, the forest blossomed anew; the air ignited with harmony, and peace reclaimed its reign over the land.

Thus, Faerleana, Elandor, and their new ally, Kalthara, united their strengths in purpose, vowing to safeguard the realms and forever nurture the magic that illuminated their hearts. Their adventures continued, filled with wonder and camaraderie — an ever-evolving tapestry spun with threads of laughter, bravery, and love.

From that day forth, the bonds they forged echoed through the ages, a sweet reminder that darkened paths may find their light when accompanied by true friends, and that adventures—whether grand or humble—are best traversed together.

And so concludes this tale of Faerleana and Elandor, whose stories shall ripple through the tapestry of time and inspire hearts for generations to come.

[asc-rp]

🌸

Random Muse: Zephyr!

Zephyr Harken soared gracefully through the skies, the wind beneath her wings guiding her toward the bustling city below. Her keen eyes scanned the landscape, locating the designated drop-off point for her latest delivery. The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the horizon, and she knew she had to make this last delivery before heading back to the guild headquarters.

As she descended toward the city square, she noticed a commotion near a fountain. Curiosity piqued, she directed her flight path closer and landed softly on the cobblestone, her presence barely stirring the crowd. In the center of the gathering stood a young man with piercing eyes and a determined expression, his aura radiating a mix of calm and intensity.

Zephyr adjusted her messenger bag and approached him, her natural curiosity driving her forward. "You seem to have everyone's attention," she remarked with a hint of amusement. "What's going on here?"

[vivid-asphodelia]

/// English Below ///

Voici un poème sans prétention, sans contraintes et presque sans retouches. C'est à propos de l'archétype de la Muse exprimé par l'élément Air.

La Muse aux pieds de vent

souffle mille idées, mille pensées

elle inspire et expire curiosité et concepts

et trace dans l'air opalin et clair

des visions vivantes, source de tous les imaginaires.

De son esprit vif, tranchant ciseau,

elle découpe et cisèle rimes et mots

et démêle les esprits les plus embrouillés,

insufflant à qui l'ose, la créativité.

Sous ses pas, le monde bruit

alerte et à l'écoute

elle fait résonner le silence et taire le tumulte

maîtresse de clarté, en elle et par elle,

rien ne cesse de bouger, ni de circuler.

Elle est la fraîcheur qui tombe à point nommé,

le doux zéphyr, la puissante alizée

avec elle, les hanches tournoient,

les têtes s'agitent et saisissent

formes, cadences, abstractions,

tout ce qui se peut concevoir.

Et dans la brise, la voilà libérée,

envieuse d'inspirer,

les intellects et les corps sauvages

qui n'ont pas peur des tempêtes.  

/////

Here's a poem without pretension, without contrary and almost without retouching. It's about the archetypal Muse expressed by the element Air.

The Muse with feet of wind

blows a thousand ideas, a thousand thoughts

breathing in and out curiosity and concepts

and traces in the clear opaline air

vivid visions, the source of all imaginings.

With her keen mind, sharp chisel,

she cuts and chisels rhymes and words

and untangles the most tangled minds,

breathing creativity into all who dare.

Under her feet, the world rustles

alert and listening

she makes silence resonate and tumult fall silent

mistress of clarity, in her and through her,

nothing ceases to move or circulate.

She is freshness at the right moment,

the gentle zephyr, the powerful trade wind

with her, hips swivel,

heads shake and grasp

forms, cadences, abstractions,

everything conceivable.

And on the breeze, she's liberated,

envious to inspire,

wild intellects and bodies

who are not afraid of storms.