#also back to dark blue and gold thank god

[skitskatdacat63]

Yaayyyyyy new year, new me, new blog layout 🥰

[achillesuwu]

Au where merthur have soulmate identifying mark but merlin is the only one who know they are because if Arthur knew he would find out about his magic 👀 (arthur's mark being a beautiful dragon mainly on on his back but its tall is draped on his torso, a wing stretch on his right shoulder, another end on his hip and its head rest upon his stomach. As if it were jealousy protecting him. its scale are of a blue so dark it nearly look black. It has golden eye and tread of gold on is horn, gold shimmer on its body highlighting its scale at some place.

It screams powerful sorcerer.)

And thus it doesn't change anything from the show. Merlin doesn't tell him not even at the very end (Merlin's mark is a smaller red dragon with its head on his shoulder and who is is holding itself on his shoulder)

It would be very angsty but also SO FUNNY if in a post return futur where arthur (Gwen, the knights) are very confuse and lost but luckily for them there exist multiple center for "People who got Teleported at the wrong place/Bought back from the dead? We are here to help!/ your five yo drank a weird potion? No problem! Etc" basically Magic help center.

Just imagine basic social worker sorcerers who tries to do their job at 3 am and see THE Emrys mark ™ on a random dude and they are like *gasp*.

Them : what the fuck

Arthur :???

Them :WHAT THE FUCK

the others :????

Them : we are calling your soulmate RIGHT NOW. WHAT THE FUCK should I call the government too???? I'M NOT PAY ENOUGH FOR THIS.

Arthur : my???

Them : YOU. DO NOT MOVE IF I LOSE YOU I'M DEAD. DEAD.

You can imagine arthur pendragon pacing like a 13 years old stressed before an oral presentation because even if he was afraid then thought he globally didn't really care about his soulmate. He realised that it wasn't so much that he didn't care but he thought it would simply never be so he just... Kinda forgot about it. Now he just can not put it away because is soulmate IS coming and WHERE IS MERLIN WHEN HE NEEDS HIM (he is blocking any thoughts about Merlin potential dead thank you very much)

(Gwen is currently finding the situation extremely funny because she figured out in 5x13 and she is 80 yo (in a younger body but still) . And she is waaaayyyyyy to old to see her former husband stay in his denial.

Leon is 78 years old and he is slowly recognising the dragon in question that look very much like Merlin's family crest. He is looking at his wife in a very conspiracy way.

Gwaine is currently not really giving a damn about the whole soulmate thing. What do you MEAN you can send messages to people in less that a second?!?!?

Elyan would usually not give a damn but he is very much not happy ™ to find out that his sister (first) husband had a soulmate mark who isn't dead and he is glaring at Arthur but he is also getting a hug from gwen so it doesn't look menacing at all.

Perceval (57) is right behind Gwaine but he is currently watching himself in the mirror because seeing his younger self again is weird asf

Meanwhile Lancelot is talking with the assistant (on the verge of a break down because they are going to see the GOD OF MAGIC OH MY GOD) about magical history

[reidslovely]

Can I Have a Moment (Before I Go)

Pairing: (Implied Mob) Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

Content Warnings: None.

Authors Note: I think I am only good for angst anymore, that is all I am giving recently. Sorry. Also not proof written at all because I wrote this in one go.

Synopsis: In a gathering of hundreds of individuals, two ex-lovers find each other.

“He is just so..magnetic. The way he talks, he has you holding on to every word.” Mary-Jane hums as she sips on her gin and tonic, blissfully unaware of the butterflies building up in her friend's stomach. “I still won’t ever understand what happened between you two.” 

Calmly, she pushed her hair off her cheek before clearing her throat. Looking at Mary-Jane the other girl shook her head before finishing her drink all in one go. 

“We were kids. Too young to understand everything that was going on.

 Standing on her wobbling legs she excused herself, trying to exit to the ladies room quickly and quietly before Peter could B-line her way. The intense eye contact during his speech was enough, and now she had his eyes locked to her figure as he spoke with a dark haired man about god knows what. She had to gather herself before they could have any interaction. 

A shaky breath left her as she found the line for the ladies room, her hands resting on her hips as she screwed her eyes shut counting backwards from 10. She opened her eyes back up and suddenly the world was not swallowing her whole, and the pink satin of her dress no longer strangled her to death. One of the models standing in front of her turned back to look at her, a clear sense of worry in her eyes as she forced a smile back. She was thankful that the other girl left it at that and turned back to whoever she was talking to in line. 

Just when everything settles, her ears prick up at the sound of her name from a familiar voice. 

“(Y/N)!” 

In a moment of reflex she turned over her shoulder to see Peter striding over to her, more handsome than he had been all those years ago. She took him in, he was a man now. Full beard, clad in a baby blue suit and nice haircut. A gold band sitting on his left ring finger and suddenly butterflies were slowly turning into a cardiac arrest. She took his outstretched hand, slotting perfectly into his as he brought her into a hug, a friendly kiss on the cheek. The same old routine of lovers turned to strangers. 

“Peter. Oh gosh, how have you been? I haven't seen you in so long.” 

His eyes twinkled in the dimly lit venue. His hand still turned hers over in his palm as he watched her. For a moment he looked like he did the night they met. 

“I know, I- I’ve been meaning to reach out but I’ve been so busy with work and I just got married and..life.” He laughs, it is airy and almost like he doesn't have a care in the world. He always did that, even when the world was falling down around them Peter would laugh and smile and everything would feel settled for a minute. She opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out, she looked over shoulder to the line getting shorter. 

“Listen, uh if you have a moment I’d love to talk and catch up.” 

He offered, she was still painfully aware of how tightly he was holding her hand. Though his tone was cool and calm, his body language was begging. His chest rose and fell almost in a rapid pattern, and there was a slight shake to his hand. Looking around she cleared her throat, nodding as she made eye contact with the crowd of people to avoid his eyes. 

“Yeah, I can meet you on the rooftop in a couple of minutes. I just-” She pointed over her shoulder awkwardly to the bathroom. “Want to freshen up. Long night.” 

“Of course..yeah. Yeah I’ll meet you there.” He hugged her again, leaving without a kiss to the cheek. She watched him tuck his hands in his pockets walking towards the staircase to the rooftop. A part of her was glad to fight all the voices telling her to turn back around and run, if she had she’d miss the smile he gave her across the room. 

The rooftop was a bit more chilly than she had predicted it would be. Her eyes landed on Peter, a cigarette in his hand as he looked over the city. She stood still for a moment, taking in the man he’d become, unsure of how to approach him. 

“Want a hit?” 

He laughs as he turns around, her eyes having drilled through his back long enough. She shook her head as she approached with soft steps, heels in hand. The wind had picked up, prickling at her skin sending a chill down her spine. Or maybe it was due to the lack of space between them. She wished she had a camera, to take a picture of how he looked. Both obviously older, Peter had wrinkles and smile lines on his face which were well complimented by the gray hairs decorating his dark beard. She herself had found her first gray hair earlier today, should have been a sign for how the day was going to go. 

“What are you looking at?” He laughed while putting out the cigarette on the stone. (Y/N) smiled, shaking her head, laughing at herself. 

“You got old.” 

Peter threw his head back laughing, covering his mouth with his hand before settling down. “Yeah, well you’re one to talk.” 

“No, no it’s just strange. That’s all..last time I saw you we were fighting over marriage and kids. You taking over the business, me going into modeling. And now, well.” 

“It’s funny because we were just kids ourselves.” He sighs. “God I was nineteen on my hands and knees begging you to marry me. It was all I wanted.” 

Silence crept in as she remembered the last thread of stress that broke them apart, she remembers how devastated and heartbroken they both were. She had nothing to say except: “It wasn’t going to be a no for forever. I had just turned nineteen Peter, I had my first real modeling job. Everything was getting too scary. I just..”

“Needed time. I was impatient, let's be honest I was never good at waiting.” 

It was her turn to laugh, her hand raising to cover her face. “You really weren’t but look..” She pointed at the band on his finger. “Gwen’s a lucky woman, I’m glad you two reconnected. If it wasn’t me I’m glad it was her.” 

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but he didn’t seem to care. He smiled his signature Peter Parker smile and she couldn’t help but give one back.

 “I did really love you, and I hope you know I carry it with me every day. I carry you with me.” Peter says quietly, looking down at the city. She pressed her lips together, her hand reaching out and rubbing his back. 

“Same here. I still look for you in everybody I date.” She admits with a soft breath. “I loved you, and a part of me always will. Pleas-” She was cut off by the door opening, the photographer from the party smiled at them. 

“Some red head told me I could find you up here, we need a picture of our two biggest donors.” He raised his camera, almost as a prompt. Peter smiled and nodded, whispering a quick of course. “As long as I can get a copy sent to me.” He laughed. 

His arm wrapped around her in a  smile. (Y/N) smiled back, even though she knew there was a storm of emotions brewing in her eyes, she hoped the smile on her face was genuine. She was thankful that he came when he did, because the next words out of her mouth could have torn them both up. She’d just have to keep that to herself. 

taglist: @sincericida @blooming-violets @tarzinnia @moonyslove78 @liz-allyn @someblessedmonster @helloheyhihowdyheya @a-lumos-in-the-nox @hollandweather @toomanyfictionalboyfriends

[sylenth-l]

Hi hello, I love your art so much LIKE MY BROTHER. IT'S SO YUMMY, THE SHADOWS THE EXPRESSIONS, I love how you draw Timur , Felwinter and Osiris together 🙏 little bird with his two funky adoptive parents. I stare at your art like , I'm always ready and hyped to give traditional art another try ✨

If I was to go back, any tips for which watercolours to pick? I so far got only aniline colours.

Aah, thank you so much!! 😳💙

Hmmm, the thing is, I use fountain pen inks almost always for painting. I don't use watercolour much, so I can't really suggest anything in particular… I have a selection of colours from different brands, of course, I know quite a lot about pigments, and I like using watercolour from time to time to add some special effects to my works. For sketching outdoors it's also the easiest to use among all other paints, probably. But painting a whole artwork with it……… I try doing it sometimes, but every single time I end up thinking "God, I wish I used inks instead, I hate this so much, why is it so BLEURGH". I guess watercolour just isn't my medium 😂 

I can share my thinking process when building up a palette though, I use it with all mixable mediums I use, be it inks, watercolour, gouache, etc. I found it to be the most effective (and money-saving, lol) approach for me.

So what I want for my main mixing palette is to have 3 sets of primary trios. All colours also must be as smooth as possible, with no surprises or unwanted colour separation. For watercolour - not granulating ones.

(my camera tends to make all colours brighter and also fails to see the subtle difference between some shades, but you can still get the idea)

The first trio is extremely vivid, consisting of bright cool colours - lemon yellow, cyan, magenta-leaning pink. It gives you access to all the bright, open colours.

Second is the classic they teach in all art schools (probably, from what I've heard, I never went into one alkjdshfk) - sunshine yellow, bright warm red and ultramarine blue. This gives you a huge selection of warmer, natural colours, like all shades of golds, eggplant purples, olive greens, etc. It also allows some nice selection of wood browns.

Third is my personal favorite, the muted trio. You kinda can get similar colours from the previous trio, but I prefer having these separately, because of how often I use them all. It consists of golden ochre-leaning yellow, dark bloody red and dark indanthrone blue. It gives you the most beautiful browns, beiges, blacks and other rich, deep colours.

On top of that I also like to have at least one decent black (in my case it's Quink Black ink, I cannot live without it).  And these 10 would be my essentials. Other colours I add to my mixing palette are basically shortcuts to the shades I find myself mixing the most - like a few browns and violets. There are also a few inks that I need for some very specific purposes - like, I have a very vivid cold magenta ink to mix a certain bright cold shade of the Void, and also a fluorescent orange for adding shiny Exo LED lights. And etc.

(Actually I'm currently in the process of re-organizing my main palette and also considering making a few small sets for painting some characters specifically)

I also have a separate selection of chromatographic inks, which can probably be compared to granulating watercolours… But not quite. A few examples:

Here I don't have any special notes or advices, just get the ink you like and enjoy it. Some of these I use so often that I always keep them in my main palette, and others I only get out for some special occasion. These are also mixable btw - I constantly add other ink in Quink Black to get different shades of it.

However, I must say that not all of the ~special effects~ inks are polite and well-behaved, some will agree to work only on some specific paper after a significant amount of coaxing, and others will straight out say "fuck you" at the most crucial moment, even if they worked perfectly just a moment ago.

Btw, when working with inks, I really recommend to put it into smaller bottles with a dropper, so you don't have to open the big bottle each time. It's both easier to use for you and much safer for inks! 

ANYWAY, I hope this post was of some use for you 🌈

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men 97 Episode 9 Thoughts

Ooff, I have some very complicated feelings about all of this. But unsurprisingly I have a lot to say about Rogue...

When I read that Beau DeMayo's favorite comic book was X-Men #25 I figured two things were going to happen -- that they'd get Magneto to pull out Wolverine's adamantium and that Rogue would play the Colossus role of going with Magneto.

And, the more I think about it -- this entire season was crafted to get to that moment - the moment of Magneto pulling out Wolverine's adamantium. It just feels like everything was written around one dude's past traumas. And I mean, while I'm not happy with the guy - I do get how you end up doing that with fiction.

Shame that X-Men #24 wasn't his favorite. We'd be having a whole different discussion...

I understand how we got here. I understand Rogue's grief and her in story decision making (mostly). I understand what the writers were going for. But, my god, it just sucks. It sucks that they did this to her. It sucks that this show needs to compress so much into so little time that there's no real time to let the show breathe and form organically. It sucks that they've isolated her as a character so that the grief would consume her so that we'd get to this point.

Rogue dreaming about feeling Remy and waking up only for Nightcrawler to tell her it isn't real broke me. Rogue in that trench coat broke me. Rogue deciding to go with Magneto so she could play the Colossus role -- and the fact that Remy died so she could get there - makes me angry.

It's not about love triangle shenanigans, I'm glad that that's really not a part of it. But they did the whole triangle for her to have it make /more/ sense that she'd do it. Because sans that, she wouldn't have. It was written purposely so she'd be in a mental state where it narratively does make (some) sense that she'd go with Magneto.

And I just... thanks, I hate it.

But also, I don't know where we go from here? The X-Men beat Bastion in the finale. Yay? At what cost? They've clearly set up Onslaught, which, yeah, okay, let's do that mess. But character wise... where do we go from here? What do you do with Rogue's character now?

I mean, there are some answers. I don't really love any of them for her.

X-Men, despite all the darkness, always was about hope. And I'm wondering where the hope in this series is. Because despite grand standing speeches from Xavier, I don't see it. If the finale can't give us any of that, then I don't see a reason to go on watching. Which really does break my heart :(

*sigh*

Some other things:

I do kind of love Rogue's non-reaction to the fact that Magneto is alive. it's just so glossed over. Due to the time compression, the writing of this show, while it has moments, isn't as even as people make it out to be.

I do kind of wonder if we'll get a scene with Rogue standing at Remy's grave, only for him to not be in it.

I'm glad Storm is back, she's the only character (along with Nightcrawler) that I really care about in this mess. (Obvs beyond Rogue)

I'm sad Storm didn't have any reaction to Remy's death though.

I did like the little Storm and Jean moment - such a good friendship, so sad that we only saw two minutes of it the entire season.

I feel like this show misses the mark on women... were there any in the writer's room??

...did they really just kill off Jean again? *sigh* (There's no body though...)

The blue and gold teams thing made me laugh for some reason. Oh, they're just pushing so hard to make things happen only for it to feel hollow.

Idk, I just feel meh about everything else, tbh.

[lexsssu]

Divine (Arjuna Alter | Berserker)

TAGS: Arjuna Alter/Dragoness!reader, pining, heats/ruts, pheromones, knotting, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

From the moment he is summoned in Chaldea to assist humanity’s last master, Arjuna ( Alter ), the culmination of the Indian pantheon and former opponent of said master knew what his purpose was.

He is a weapon against evil, nothing more and nothing less.

But…

“I know it’s not the same as back in your country, but I like to think my Japanese-style curry tastes pretty good. I made sure to make it extra spicy for you too!”

The god blinked at the tall pile of steaming curry rice placed in front of him, smelling the various aromatic spices and feeling the heat it gave off thanks to sheer amount of spice. Though he had no need to eat thanks to his divinity and also because he was a servant, the tantalizing aroma of the meal didn’t fail to tease his senses especially as you gazed up at him expectantly with those molten gold orbs of yours that shone and glittered like the finest of jewels. It also didn’t help that you unknowingly bat your lashes up at him as you pleaded with him through your gaze alone, the dark lush crescents emphasizing how even just a pair of eyes could hold unimaginable beauty.

You are breathtaking.

And that honestly scared him.

He, who had shed his mortal shell to embody almost every god in his respective pantheon, who had dedicated his existence to purging the world of evil, and now who’d found himself a servant to a master much more powerful than he or any servant was.

Though servants being attracted to their masters and relationships before formed between the two wasn’t anything new, Arjuna ( Alter ) of all servants felt that he himself would never be so imbecilic as to fall for his master…

And yet here he is.

Leaning forward as you’d taken it upon yourself to scoop up a spoonful of curry rice and feed it to him since he’d frozen up like a deer in headlights the moment you’d placed the treat in front of him.

“So...how does it taste? Is it spicy enough for you? Or maybe it needs more flavor? Or…?”

Normally you always wore a look of complete serenity, as if everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen was simply all part of your grand plan that no one is privy to aside from yourself...At least that’s how it looked to Arjuna and everyone else within Chaldea considering the inconceivable feats you so easily make into reality.

But now you’re gazing up at him, seemingly as harmless as a little lamb despite your ability to destroy entire worlds according to one of the other servants, Tathamet, who’d apparently been a blessed witness to all your feats before arriving in Chaldea. The primordial revered you as much as he feared you despite apparently being ‘ The Prime Evil, ’ further proof of your power.   

Despite his understanding of mortal behavior having been eradicated when he decided to ascend, there is no denying the heat that seems to engulf his whole body as you sit so close to him, serving him as if he weren’t the servant within this relationship.

“...Good. It’s...perfect…” Though an invisible lump seems to have formed in his throat, the former Lost-Belt King manages to utter the words you’ve been waiting for so patiently.

He swallows when his eyes take notice of how visibly you perk up, the ear to ear grin and the slight wagging of the glittering silver tail behind you making his own deep blue tail move ever so slowly in response to your reactions.

“Great! I was afraid that you wouldn’t like it since it’s not really the same as what you’re used to but I tried my best…” 

The bashful grin you grace him with only worsens the Berserker’s condition, his dark chocolate complexion seemingly gaining a reddish hue as he did his best to understand these confusing feelings you elicited from him.

Was this another facet of your limitless power? Or perhaps...was his body simply too weak to handle your sheer might even by just being in close proximity to you?

With the both of you off in your own world, most of the servants seem to have their gazes glued to the pair you made. Not that it was surprising, considering you were their venerated master and pretty much every servant and everyone else within Chaldea was sure you were some sort of eldritch being that came into existence and power long before any of the known gods and primordial entities did.

At this moment however, Arjuna’s thoughts have moved on from your undeniable strength and towards uncharted territory.

Namely...the reactions his physical body seems to be making in response to you.

Perhaps he should consult with someone more...adept with human emotions? Maybe it was about time he paid a visit to his brother, Karna...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! ”

 This...was the last scenario he’d expected after consulting with Karna about the emotions you made him feel.

“ PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! ” 

He simply knocked at your door some days later after he’d digested his brother’s words, understanding for himself what his feelings meant before he made a move. So caught up in his own affairs, he didn’t notice how your natural scent seemed to become...spicier and almost cloyingly sweet until he’d fully entered your room only to be hit with your raw pheromones.

It all becomes a blur at that point, because the next thing Arjuna knows is that he’s pinning you down upon your bed in a full mating press, the entire length of his cock forcing your lower lips open as he sought to pour every drop of his potent seed into your fertile womb.

Though in human form, you were both very much in tune with your baser instincts and like any animal, there were certain times where your bodies went against your minds. 

The combined scent of your sweat and other bodily fluids made the former god purr from his chest, especially as your body secreted pheromones that told him how happy you were for him to be the one mating you. How you looked forward to the brood you’ll bear for him once his seed takes root within your belly.

“Good mate…” He rasps, ragged breaths hitting the shell of your ear when he shoved every last inch of his cock inside, the heavy knot at the base slipping easily inside your velvety depths as he began painting your hungry cunt with rivulets of white.

[tacticalspider]

way back in february, i drew my first killjoys picture. i had only just started listening to mcr and kept getting kobra and fun ghoul mixed up (unsure how that happened), but even then i knew my brain was downloading something big. i am no longer the same person, and i thank the teletubby sun god for that each and every day.

(image description in alt and under the cut)

image description: this image shows a very saturated, brightly colored drawing of the teletubbies as the killjoys from my chemical romance's album titled "danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys." from left to right there is laa-laa, the yellow one, as jet-star, then dipsy, the green one, as the kobra kid, tinky winky, the purple or blue one, as party poison, and finally po, the red one as fun ghoul. block text at the top of the page reads "the future is bulletproof," and text at the bottom in gold paint marker reads "the aftermath is secondary." the background is a rich blue at the top of the page and bleeds down into gray. all of the teletubby killjoys are wearing bomber jackets in various styles, but no other clothes. jet star's jacket is black with a red patch on the sleeve, kobra's is red with blue and white stripes going down the sleeves, party's is a dark indigo blue with a couple of red and white details, and fun ghoul's is actually a black and yellow striped shirt with a khaki and black vest over the top. jet-star has laa-laa's curly yellow antenna poking from curly shoulder-length hair that starts yellow at the roots and then turns brown, and is also wearing reflective aviator sunglasses. kobra has dipsy's straight green antennae coming out of short lime green hair that's been combed back and is wearing large black sunglasses. his teletubby chest television is also visible and displaying a blue eyeball. party's purple triangular antennae comes out of red hair and he is also wearing brown leather gloves. ghoul has stringy black hair with dark red roots a d a circular red antennae coming out the top, and the little chest tv shows a blank white emoji smile in the style of the better living industries logo. ghoul is also wearing a belt, despite not having pants, and is reaching for a brown holster, though we can't see anything inside it. end id.

[namidew]

The next set of designs for my story, Zeus and Hera !!

Not exactly as happy with their designs as the others, but hey, I can always go back and change them. These two were more difficult than the previous ones because I struggled to work with incorporating their domains into their designs, which were the main reasons for design choices in the previous designs.

Ramblings about my design and story choices below !!

Zeus - King of the gods, god of the sky, order, kingship, among a few many other domains. Mostly conceptual rather than physical. I leaned mostly into the sky and weather ideas, with the lightning crown on his head (inspired by the one Zeus has in Hades game), the color palette, the markings on his chest, and his hair. His hair is meant to resemble clouds, particularly ones within a storm, the lightning crown adding to that fact. The dark purplish blue connects his design to Hera’s, as well as the greyish blue of his chiton that also matches. Weather is fluctuating, as seen by the contrast in his calm demeanor and his stormy color palette. The markings on his face and the pattern (and color) on his himation lean into the eagle as one of his symbols. The markings on his face are in resemblance of the beak, and the patterns on his himation resembling the overlaying feathers of eagle wings.

Hera - Originally her design was going to be more in line with the design of peahens rather than peacocks, but the latter have more vibrant colors (due to male birds needing to be the ones to woo the females, but that’s irrelevant right now). Her crown and piercings are the same gold-ish color as Zeus’s lightning crown, the crown on her head representing her status as Queen of the Heavens and the piercings in symbolism of wedding rings. Her veil is due to its appearance in statues of her, but also in accordance with wedding veils. Due to her domain of marriage. Within a potential future (full body) redesign of her, I will likely add symbols of weddings or marriage from multiple cultures within her design. Her dark teal hair, her necklace, and her epiblema represent peacocks as one of her symbolic animals. The markings on her face and pattern of her chiton also add to this idea, the former in accordance with the white around peafowl’s eyes (the blue dots representing the crest of the bird) and the latter in accordance with the feather pattern seen on peahens’s bodies, as well as vaguely resembling clouds as she is Queen of the Heavens.

Story Choices - I haven’t much a clue as to their personalities or dynamics within my story. Given the story would take place primarily(?) modern day with the gods’s appearances and personalities affected by their domains, I would presume that their personalities would be a bit tempered in terms of anger and such. The older gods and the gods with domains that aren’t as affected by humans and the passage of time would likely be more unaffected. In addition, both would have more unnatural(?) features, such as markings or different hair colors within their more human appearances. These two have much simpler designs than I was hoping to give them, but these are just their concepts for now.

Thank you for reading, and if you have any suggestions, whether for future designs, interactions, or story (including personalities), feel free to share !!

[crimsonscloud]

new version of my oc lore go brrr.

on the 12th hour of the first day of october 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. this was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day began. sir reginald hargreeves, eccentric asshole billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. brad barrett was not one of them. (and later, he'd thank god for that.)

name: bradley barrett

nicknames: brad (preferred); walking glowstick (by five and lila); sparkler, starboy (by lila); number two (by marcus); pretty boy (by sparrow!ben); the pyromaniac (by jayme)

gender: male

date of birth: october 1, 1989

place of birth: belfast, northern ireland

hair color: dark brown

eye color: blue; gold (when using powers)

faceclaim: pascal langdale

occupation: artist

affiliation: the umbrella academy (unofficial)

relatives: erin barrett (mother)

biography (pre-canon + season one):

as a young woman living in belfast during "the troubles", erin barrett is not at all in the position to be raising a child. especially not one that she hadn't had the time to plan for. but as she rests on the floor of her apartment, a wailing baby--her son--in her arms, she cannot imagine giving him up for anything.

when a strange man called hargreeves arrives on her doorstep, asking to take her son, she slams the door in his face. it takes everything in her not to grab the monocle he's wearing and stab him in the eye with it.

what she does not know is that he has or will ask many other mothers the same question. what she fears is that soon the question might become a demand. brad spends his early years being moved about, half because of the political turmoil and half because erin is paranoid that hargreeves will come back.

(in the end, he gets seven children, and apparently that is enough for him. it does not stop erin from waking up with her heart in her throat, wondering if this will be the day she wakes to a silent house and her baby gone.)

in 2015, brad moves to an area near the city to attend art school. despite the extraordinary circumstances of their births, he meets allison hargreeves in a mundane place -- a coffee shop. one conversation turns to many. he learns that the man with the monocle his mother warned him about as a child is sir reginald hargreeves. most important, he gains a friend, and someone who can understand what it's like having grown up with superpowers.

three years later, as allison's marriage spirals into divorce, they begin to fight. she becomes distant. he lets her. as far as he can tell, they've both moved on with their lives.

so he's surprised when, seemingly out of nowhere one march day, he gets a phone call from her asking if they can talk. she tells that him hargreeves is dead, that she and her siblings have been asked to attend the funeral. she doesn't want to go alone.

while brad has little interest in attending the funeral of the man who almost stole him from his mother, something makes him go anyway. maybe it's a sense of nostalgia for a past friendship; maybe it's curiosity about the other children hargreeves stole; maybe you could even call it fate. (brad wouldn't.)

thanks to a pair of time-traveling assassins, a senior citizen in a child's body, and an impending apocalypse, his trip to the academy grounds is anything but short.

powers and abilities:

plasma manipulation: brad's core power. he can absorb thermal energy and convert it into superheated plasma.

dagger creation: brad can generate daggers made of solidified plasma. he can telekinetically guide them in a given direction or spin them around his body to deflect small projectiles. if he is stabbed by his own daggers, the energy is absorbed back into his body.

heat and light generation: brad can release stored energy as bright light and intense heat. he also has a high resistance to temperature extremes.

self healing: brad's body can heal itself if in the presence of a heat source, usually sunlight. the speed / extent depends on the amount of exposure.

superhuman sight: brad can see over greater distances and with better clarity than most, and to an extent in total darkness. he has the capability to see a person's life force / aura (and in the case of the other children born from the marigold + harlan, he can also see their marigold).

weaknesses:

darkness: brad's powers aren't infinite. spending too much time in dark areas with no access to light renders him powerless until he can recharge.

drugs: like the others, brad's powers can be subdued with drugs / alcohol. because he can self-heal, the effect is usually temporary provided he has enough energy to draw on.

emotions: being "supercharged" or using a lot of power for an extended period makes brad more prone to increased aggression or impulsiveness.

energy depletion: if brad released all of his stored energy at once, he'd pass out afterwards. holding onto large quantities of energy without immediately releasing it is also painful and physically draining.

limitations: there is an (as-yet undefined) upper limit to how much energy brad can absorb at once. if he went above this limit, his body would overheat and potentially explode.

other random facts:

a chaotic, sarcastic, many-layered-bracelets-wearing bisexual.

constantly carries a lighter, and flicks it on / off when he's stressed or just bored.

has been arrested for vandalism before.

like his original concept, brad has a bit of a drinking problem. his powers make it harder for him to actually feel intoxicated.

you know that scene from j.essica j.ones where trish sips a coffee and goes "this has alcohol in it" and jessica takes it and tells her "that's mine"? five or viktor and brad energy tbh.

he's fluent in english and irish, and also knows some phrases in latin.

he has submitted work to, and gotten into, galleries before. (do i know how this works? no.)

his body temperature is constantly warm. as a child he'd run around in the cold without a coat on; erin repeatedly told him not to do this because it increased the likelihood of him getting noticed. (did he listen? most of the time, no.)

he bleeds light when he's injured. like. his wounds glow and stuff. he still has regular blood it's just glowy. it's fascinating and also really painful if anybody other than him touches them until they heal.

his eyes also do the "reflects light in darkness" thing.

it's gonna take me ages to rewatch so i can actually write up his season two lore, but for now i'm thinking he lands in april 1963, seven months before the second apocalypse.

marcus mistakes him for the umbrellas' number two since he and viktor have kinda similar powers. nobody corrects him on it until luther is captured.

he absolutely has a scene at some point that's set to "supermassive black hole" by muse. is this important to know? no, but it's in my head.

tagging @brellafaun plus everyone who interacted with the original post! if you don't want to be tagged let me know and i'll remove you: @mrbloodbender @dis-ast3r @jasshands @beesknees18 @justsomeonenoonecaresabout @aetherbound

[amorgansgal]

A Meeting of Souls

Day 2: Meeting Halsin

Halsin hadn’t much chance to relax and rest by the time he reached the grove and Rath and Nettie had told him all. Kagha seemed humbled and evidently most of the druids were in awe of her change of heart and attitude, but he was still bristling with anger. The fact that she had shown such contempt, such coldness to those who needed help, who had nothing and she had even thought to turn her backs on them, it outraged him, enraged him. And the truth was this disloyalty to everything they stood for, or were meant to stand for, was still under the surface of people’s deference to him like a noxious, grasping weed. There were still druids here who had either been too cowardly to stand up to Kagha and left all their morals by the wayside or had outright agreed with her. It was a hard thing to realise he did not have as many allies as he thought he had or ones who would stand up for what was right.

‘How could you even think that this is what the Oak Father would-’ his lecture was cut off though by a bright laugh and a woman’s sing-song voice calling out:

‘I’m back! Did you all miss me?’

He glanced towards the stairs, where the woman’s voice came from though he couldn’t see her, evidently she was still at the top of the stairs, even though her voice had echoed through the grove.

‘Yes! Do the fox magic again!’ a child’s voice cried out and several other children joined in with requests for the magic, laughing happily. The sound of their excitement and joy hadn’t been heard in the grove since they had arrived. The tiefling children had looked upon everyone with suspicion in their gazes. Wary of trusting or liking any of the druids there, and who could blame them? A little glowing golden fox suddenly darted down the stairs, whirled around the grove, stopped briefly next to Halsin and Kagha, and then went running past them back up the steps. 

‘That’s her, the druid who set me right, Vanya,’ Kagha told him, nodding towards the steps and Halsin looked past her to see an elven woman skip down the steps. She sent the fox careening back up towards a group of tiefling children who chased after it. 

The first thing he noticed about her was not her flame red hair that shone with threads of gold and amber, nor her brilliant dark blue eyes, but it was her smile. Wide, open, sweet, welcoming, friendly. They had met, of course, in the goblin camp, but it had all happened so quickly he’d barely taken her in and the gloom of the place had kept her features muted and shadowed. He’d also mostly talked to Wyll and Gale, whilst she rummaged through some pots.  Now her clothes were clean of blood and filth, he could see they were a shimmering green-blue in colour and she did not wear the signs of the Oak Father, but instead the sigil at her chest depicted three silver waves on a blue background, and a pearlescent shell underneath the waves. The sigil of Talum, God of the Coast. She bounded over to them.

‘Oh good, you made it back!’ she said, and he couldn’t help fixating on her smile. It flooded through him like the sweet smell of the air through the leaves on the trees and warm sunshine on his skin. Had he really grown so used to the stoicism and grim looks of the druids around him that a warm, brilliant smile sent every thought running from his head? He caught Nettie’s quick glance at him and ever so slightly raised brow, a small smile played at her lips. She’d figured him out.

‘I did, thanks to you and your companions.’

‘I’m a little sad we didn’t get to see you in all your bear glory,’ she said, leading Nettie to let out a little snort of laughter and she immediately covered her mouth, ‘but I guess Astarion was right, it was easier dealing with matters. Though I think it’s a shame we didn’t get to fight side by side in our wild shapes. I favour a fox.’

He realised he was smiling, properly, truly for the first time in weeks. Hells, maybe it had been months or years. ‘Well perhaps there will be ample opportunity for us to fight together in the future. I hadn’t realised I met a coastal druid.’

‘Yes, I’m from the Menagerie Coast originally, we have a small cove there.’

Halsin’s brows rose in surprise, the Menagerie Coast was on the eastern side of the land, she was very far from home. Most druids wouldn’t wander so far from their place of worship. ‘You have travelled far. I thought you would hale from a coast on the west.’

‘No, I… um… I left my family’s side… oh, must be going on for five years now.’

He frowned, it was very odd for an elf to leave their family entirely for so long, especially as she was a druid. Vanya clasped her hands together and gave him another carefree smile, but he could tell there was something nervous underneath. She was fearful he might pry further, that he would know how unusual it was for her to have done something like that. But he was sure there was good reason for her to not be forthcoming.

‘Well, I am glad you made it all this way and that you helped us, apparently very enthusiastically,’ he said.

He could see her shoulders relax as she exhaled, her relief all too evident that he hadn’t pushed her for information. ‘Well how could I not? Anyway, I best leave you to matters and join my companions again, I left them with your trader. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and had made it home and everything was well.’

He found himself surprisingly touched at the care she showed. Was she this affectionate with everyone? He could not question her about it, as she turned on foot and made her way back to the steps, then stopped and turned back round and hurried back over to his side. She stood on tiptoe, but gestured for him to lean his head closer to hers. He unquestioningly obeyed her. He could feel her breath on his cheek and the rush of blood to them as he realised how close she was, how casually she lay her hand on his forearm, the pads of her fingertips just lightly skimming over what bare skin was there between the gaps of his braces. Nettie’s eyebrows were about to disappear into her hairline and she was biting her lip hard to stop herself from laughing. This coastal druid was something else!

‘Don’t be too harsh on Kagha. I know it’s probably all you wish to do and yes, she deserves some punishment, but we’ve all made mistakes in our lifetimes. I think everyone deserves to be shown some kindness when they do. Showing mercy in situations like that sometimes teaches people more than cold, hard vengeance. But that’s all I have to say on the matter and you’re the archdruid and I won’t presume to tell you what you should do, I just thought I should say something,’ Vanya said, she gave his arm a gentle little squeeze, then hurried off again. He watched her go, his heart feeling oddly light and touched that she had cared so much for Kagha, when undoubtedly she’d been on the sharp end of Kagha’s tongue and the rite of thorns issue wouldn’t have made things easy.

‘The nerve of that woman,’ Jeorna muttered once Vanya was gone. ‘I’ve never known a druid so irreverent and overly familiar. Her God must think-’

‘It was her irreverence and familiarity with druid teachings that helped the tieflings trust her and put a stop to the rite of thorns,’ Halsin snapped and Jeorna had the decency to look contrite. ‘She mended the rift that had been caused and brought balance, something a good many of you seemed to forget whilst I was gone. How is it a coastal druid knows more of our teachings than you yourself, Jeorna?’ 

‘I did not mean to cause offence,’ Jeorna said. She swallowed tightly and it almost seemed to cause her pain to admit, ‘I am glad she helped matters.’ 

~~~

The long discussions were finally at an end. He had headed Vanya’s words, Kagha had been punished, but not too severely as some druids and tieflings probably would’ve wished. But Vanya was right, fair, reasonable justice seemed better for this occasion than fueling anger and resentment. He was left to muse on his own feelings concerning being the archdruid here. It had never sat right with him. The role of leader had been thrust upon him and he did not bear it well. His patience felt worn to a thin strand that could snap at any moment. He’d been gone a week or two and this was the result? A host of druids willing to turn their back on everything and show such vile contempt towards those most in need? Halsin rubbed his brow. He felt exhausted right down to his very core, right to the marrow in his bones. And it didn’t have much to do with his capture in the stinking, filth ridden mess of that goblin camp.

‘Vanya’s a lovely person,’ Nettie said, her voice was light and easy going, but even he could detect the little prodding she was doing, trying to figure out his feelings.

‘She certainly seems that way. Joyous, kind, it is good she entertains the children.’

Nettie laughed. ‘I don’t think Zevlor always appreciated that, she distracts them from their fighting classes. But she cheered a lot of people up, made the tieflings trust druids again when they long had good reason not to. Though as you could see, most of our folk don’t know what to make of her, even the ones who like her.’

‘She’s not really like us,’ he said, taking a seat on one of the smooth, flat stones that clustered around the Oak Father’s statue. Nettie sat beside him. 

‘Mm,’ she agreed. ‘She thinks nature is to be celebrated with life and laughter and light, that it should be protected but also shared, not guarded and hidden away just because we think some folk are unworthy of it.’

He nodded, remembering the warmth of Vanya’s palm against his skin, how light and small her hand was. The way her eyes had sparkled like the flicker of sunlight on the lapping waves near the shoreline. Her soft plush lips when she spoke… Good gods, was the novelty of her really turning his head so much? The rarity of an elf smiling and laughing so willingly. He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

‘And you like her, hm?’ Nettie prodded.

‘Yes, how could I not like the people who saved the grove and the tieflings and me to boot!’ he said, chuckling softly.

Nettie rolled her eyes. ‘No, that’s not what I asked. You like her, her in particular. You like her smile, you certainly didn’t mind when she touched your arm and was so shockingly familiar with you!’ She grinned and shook her head, presumably at the memory of Jeorna’s sneer. 

Halsin hesitated and looked up at the first few stars that were appearing in the dusky blue sky overhead. He’d evidently spent a bit too much time with Nettie if she could read him so well. ‘I’d be foolish to deny that I liked her smile, that I liked her touch, and I am glad she is kind and is well liked, because you saw it writ on my face what feelings she has conjured in me..’

‘Haven’t seen you smile like that in some time,’ Nettie pointed out.

Halsin nodded thoughtfully, then sighed heavily. ‘I cannot pursue anything with her, there is too much work to do. I must see to it that the shadow curse is remedied and Vanya and her companions need help in getting to Moonrise Towers so they can find a cure.’

‘And it’s not possible to do both at the same time?’ Nettie asked. ‘To fix the shadow curse and woo Vanya?’

He rested his hands on his knees. It was tempting. Gods, how much did he long to have any sense of happiness, pure, sweet happiness. To capture just a tiny taste of Vanya’s joy and hold it close to his chest, to have it warm him. His mind drifted and wandered. What it would be like to embrace her. To kiss her. He could imagine she would still smile when they kissed, her heart thrumming away like the beat of a songbird’s wing. He shook his head to clear it.

‘No, I have to do the right thing. I failed here, Nettie. I have not inspired loyalty or bravery or kindness. I know you and Rath stayed true, and you were willing to lose a great deal for your beliefs. But I have not served this place well-’

‘Halsin, that isn’t true-!’

‘Nettie, it is. And as much as I appreciate your fealty to me, the actions of Kagha and those who supported her speak clearly and loudly. I have much to think on, but I do not think I can be archdruid here for much longer.’

Nettie clasped her hands tightly together and brought her knees close to her chest. ‘I still think you were a good leader, but I know when your mind is made up.’ She was quiet for a time, then looked over at him. ‘You should go to the party, they’ll expect you there.’

‘Is it just because Vanya will be there?’

A quick smile came to Nettie’s lips. ‘No… well… partially. She will be and I think you’ll like her even more when you spend time with her, but I think you should go to at least enjoy one evening before you get all serious again!’

‘Very well,’ he said, getting to his feet, rolling out the long held ache in his shoulders and neck. Nettie was still smiling knowingly and he thought that it was perhaps because she would usually have to spend much longer convincing him to attend a social event. ‘You should join us when you get the chance too,’ he said.

She gave a shrug. ‘I think they’ll have all the druids they need, but if I get time I’ll join you all.’

He inclined his head and began to walk towards the stairs to follow the tieflings out of the enclave to the adventurers’ camp. He would do his best to forget his own worries and concerns, especially when the tieflings looked so happy and excited, and especially when he was quite certain he’d feel like he was standing in the sun once more if Vanya smiled at him again.

[skitskatdacat63]

Vettonso x Similar Helmets

SV Germany 2012 x FA Monaco 2013: Gold & Dark Red

I think a lot about Vettonso and their mutual relationship witn gold. They're both golden boys, they're both seen lit gold by the sunshine on many podiums throughout the years, both have worn golden boots, and as you can see here: both have worn golden helmets. The parallels in these particular helmets makes me feel insane. Both are: gold with dark red accents, both have their birthplace's coat of arms(Bergstraße and Asturias), both have team animal motifs, and both have symbols to represent their two championships(You by now know the signifigance of the ones on Fernando's helmet, but I think the ones on Seb's are actually a callback to his Formula BMW days when he used to put the smiley stickers on his car for every win.)

And did you know both of these helmets were designed by the same helmet design company? Yep, both of these are JMD helmets. I know JMD helmets are/were pretty popular, but still, there's something to me about Fernando commissioning the same designer that Seb has been using since he was a literal child. Parallels, am I right?

SV Japan 2010 x FA Japan 2023: White with Black & Red

Haha I remember @protocolseben and I discussing this a bit back in September when Fernando's helmet dropped. I honestly think Seb is such an innovator and trailblazer in terms of helmet design, and you can see his influence in helmet design as recently as this past season. I'm not sure if he was the first ever driver to don a matte white helmet with red accents as a representation of the Japanese flag, but it certainly envoked him in my mind when I saw Fernando's!!

I think Fernando's is pretty similar to all of Seb's 2010-2012 Japan helmets but I like this one the most so! I think if Seb wasn't restrained by the Red Bull logo, he def wouldv'e put the red circle where Nando put his so I think Fernando did a really good job, even if unintentionally, at emulating Seb's sense of design.

SV Singapore 2012 x FA Singapore 2012: Sparkly!

Like I said in the one above, it's crazy how much Seb influenced helmet design. He was pretty much the pioneer of sparkly helmets for Singapore, right? It drives me absolutely insane that there's actually pictures of them together in such similar designed helmets. It's kinda funny actually that even though they're pretty deep in the championship fight at this point, and Seb just got one up on Fernando; Fernando is wearing a helmet that is a direct influence from Seb!!! Is that not insane???

Also, Fernando trying to be camp with trying the now in vogue sparkly Singapore helmet, and Seb accidentally completely blew him out of the water with his outrageous light up LED constellation helmet. But god yeah....to have pics of them in matching helmets from this era particuarly makes me emotional ;;;

SV Hungary 2021 x FA 2022: Pink with Dark Blue

I really could've picked any of Seb's 2021 helmets, but I thought this one matched the best with Fernando's main 2021 helmet(with the color pallet.) Also one thing, it's crazy how much control BWT has as a sponsor, I don't think I've ever seen another sponsor go so hard at having a chokehold on individuality. I like that we got pink liveries and pink helmets, but I don't think they should have that much control.

I'm almost kinda sad there wasn't any Miami GP in 2021, because I think that was the only unique helmet Fernando had in 2022. But these match pretty well! Pretty in pink!! It's crazy that their parallels in the 2020s are ongoing even before Fernando actually takes over Seb's seat. Thanks BWT I guess?

SV Abu Dhabi 2022 x FA Abu Dhabi 2022: Fernando's Seb Tribute Helmet

AND HERE WE HAVE THE PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE!!! The ultimate conclusion, it literally couldn't get better than this!! This is still unbelievable, like how is this an actual thing that happened!? Fernando intentionally branding his helmet, the only symbol of individuality in F1, with his rival's flag colors, HIS FLAG!!!!! Not to mention the literal "Vettono Best Moments" collage he posted alongside it....and the hand-holding....and everything that happened with them at Abu Dhabi 2022....

But god, after years of incidentally making parallel helmet designs, Fernando decided to officially tie the knot of the red string of fate, and make a helmet directly referencing Seb's. I think it's funny because as I said with two of the previously mentioned ones, those Fernando designs are pretty much inspired by Seb's, and here he is openly making one directly inspired by Seb. I don't really have words for how this actually makes me feel because it's just. Yeah. The most open and clear declaration of love and respect and admiration one could ever make. TO ME.

[drconstellation]

More Half-and-Half-A-Miracle Thoughts

Part 2: The Dark side of Aziraphale

Updated 10 Nov 2023

Part 1: Miracle Power Ranking is here. Part 3: The Third Archangel is here

There was one that thing that struck me about the miracle working scene: why did Gabriel offer crossed hands to the duo?

Gabriel offers his right, his good, heavenly angel-sided hand to Crowley first, and his left, his sinister-sided demon hand to Aziraphale.

And this is NOT an accident.

Its been observed that Gabriel, in his amnesiac state like this, has reverted back to a more base-state angelic being, one of joy, and love, and curiosity. He's acting on instinct here.

Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. The demon has more light in him than the angel, and Gabriel and can feel that instinctively. This really shouldn't be a surprise to us, its been in our face all along. Now don't get me wrong - Crowley is still a demon, and Aziraphale is still an angel, I'm not saying that they aren't. Mostly we talk about how Crowley isn't all that much of a demon at heart, just "going along with Hell as far as [he] can," but we don't really talk about much about that other side of Aziraphale other than wishing to see more of his BAMF! side.

You know what - its a side that thanks to all of the rest you ops and meta-ists out that that I've come to both fear and appreciate. And let me tell you, if I found myself in a dark alley on a bad night I would hope to God it was Crowley I bumped into , because I feel he would at least give me the choice to walk out alive. I don't think Aziraphale would, I would be at the mercy of how ever he decided he wanted to manipulate the situation...and I find that rather chilling.

Crowley might be the charred demon with a heart of gold, but Aziraphale is the two-sided bastard of an angel he loves. All bright light casts a shadow. Its easy for us to be blinded by the shining light of goodness and right and the side of God (er, hang on, isn't the GO God an eldritch horror in disguise...?) and not be able to see what is hiding behind it.

We rarely see the back of Aziraphale's waistcoat, because he is rarely seen without an overcoat on, a covering of social propriety. There is the noticeable occasion in S2E1 when Crowley comes back to do the apology dance then they perform the hiding miracle (see screenshot below, and it was still hard to chose a good angle for all it went on for several minutes!) and perhaps in S1 when he spends all night reading Agnes Nutter's book. Both times its only in the privacy of the book shop, under the cover of night. So its easy to miss that the color of the back panel is a most un-angelic color: a dark viridian green. I know I keep banging on about this, but its important, and in more ways than one.

[Edit: Since I first wrote this, I've written a mega-meta on all the colours in GO, and some of the following interpretation has changed a little - but the significance of the green still stands!]

All the angels wear some form of a pale colored neutral palette, ranging from white to beige to taupe (white, off-white shades and shades of brown,) with dove-grey for the known in-show seraphim, Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael. Gold and blue are also associated with Heaven. But Aziraphale is the only angel to wear green and shades of blue-green. He's quite unique in that department.

The colors of Hell are completely different. Black, lots of black. And red, different shades of red. The demons are actually quite a colourful lot, but do tend towards the darker shades. Red is a colour of passion, not just a demonic colour, although it can be associated with the demonic sinister left hand side. The main colour of Hell is actually green - the thick green light that you almost of have to swim through in the crowded halls of Hell, and examples like the green stag on Furfur's sash. It represents chaos, in competition to the rigid lawful nature of Heaven.

So while Aziraphale mostly presents a socially acceptable angelic front, its telling only Crowley has properly glimpsed that dark, shady, bit-of-a-bastard unpredictable side to him - and likes it. (More from Cobragardens about it here in 1793 Paris and 1601 at the Globe.) I mean, come on - this is a being that sent a man to his death so he could go on lunch date? A lunch date he practically concocted just so he could see Crowley. wtf? A being of love who was about to shoot the Antichrist to stop Armageddon? A being who quietly and efficiently discouraged the mafia who threatened to set the book shop on fire from ever returning? (See, told you I didn't want to meet him a dark alley...) Plus we saw him mind-control a whole roomful of people for his Jane Austen-themed ball, just to woo his beloved demon, with no thought of the possible collateral damage. I'm sorry, is this the same "guardian angel" we were all glowing over earlier?

The coat lapel as wings theory adds some weight to this hidden dark side of Aziraphale as well. Aziraphale's lapels always point downwards, towards Hell. Particularly when he has been discorporated and returned to Heaven, where frustrated about being told he has to gear up for war, he instead wonders out loud if he can return to Earth to a possess a body, reasoning that if demons can, he must be able to as well. lmoa! You are so not an angel, my dear! Yet...he isn't a demon either. He's almost...a bit of both. Two sides to a coin. A blend of light and dark. Shades of grey...although he doesn't like to admit it.

Image by lomiel

Back to the shadow-like green panel on the back of the waistcoat.

Actually, on second thoughts, I'm going to put that in Part 3.

[honeyynymphh]

I had a thought for a fic and bc I love ur writing…

copia x mile high club

first of all, thank you so much!! mile high club certainly is not something I would have ever thought of but it did give me an idea so here it is! Inflight Meal Papa IV x FemReader rating: E words: 2600 tags: dom copia, cunnilingus, sex, fucking on the job, drinking on the job, dirty talk, cheesy af, there is no resemblence to canon like anywhere in this story lmao AO3

summary: as an air hostess you are used to strange people, especially when they have their own private jet. but this was definitely the strangest one.

also Copia still has his moustache because I said so! I know nothing about flying, this is pretty silly and it is not checked so sorry for any mistakes!

Straightening your skirt you stand waiting for the passengers to board the plane. Last minute you’d been called in to help on an overnight flight to Italy by Jack—the usual pilot you flew with. Apparently, some priest was travelling back to his hometown for an important ceremony and his crew were short a few staff members. You would have refused at such a late request, especially as you had to wear a completely different uniform. It wasn’t the airlines—apparently the priest had insisted all the crew fit in with the rest of his staff.

What an arrogant prick. 

But the money had been way above the norm and you rarely were asked to do private flights. And the uniform was not much different than your usual skirt and jacket. Except it was cerulean blue with little embroidered golden details—and a strange inverted crucifix emblazoned on the chest. You were just grateful it wasn’t a nun's habit.

You heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to board and straightened your back, plastering on the practised smile. Many a jerk you’ve had to deal with and today would be no different—no matter how fancy an aircraft it was. You’d had a little snoop before. The whole aircraft was dark wood and detailed with the same shade of blue and gold. The jet was fitted with a main bedroom, kitchen, office and then the main seating area. God must be real generous, you think with a roll of your eyes.

The first person aboard is an older woman, her blonde hair styled to perfection and wearing a severe yet fitting suit jacket and skirt—all in black but detailed with the same hints of blue and gold as your uniform. She smiles at you and you gesture for her to enter, giving her a welcoming smile as you bid good evening. Next is a man…at least you think it’s a man. The smile on your face falters a moment before you right it again on your perfectly painted lips.

His dress is fine. He’s dressed all in black—though his jacket has the same little crucifix on it as yours—it’s the mask he wears that throws you. It’s silver, demonic and completely obscures his face.

Weird. But you were here to serve drinks and food, not care about the passengers and their odd choice of attire. The…man walks past you without a glance and settles into a chair before pulling out a rolled-up magazine from his trouser pocket.

You’re too busy still looking at him when a voice says, “Buonasera, Signorina.”

When you turn towards it, you’re met with a pair of mismatched eyes set in a face painted like a skull. But despite it, it’s still an attractive one and the man’s voice is pleasant—the Italian lilt to his words makes your smile genuine, if not a little bemused. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, way too tightly fitting that it’s almost indecent.

He takes your hand, the soft leather that encases his hand is buttery soft and warm. He kisses your hand, moustache tickling your skin. He introduces himself as Papa Emeritus the Fourth before he gives you a smile and heads into the plane. You watch, bemused, as he greets the other two—the woman talking quickly and hovering around him like a mother hen. He waves her off with some words in Italian and disappears down to the back of the plane.

That cannot be a priest, you think. Maybe Jack got the information wrong. He looks too…you don’t even know. You rub at your hand. At least he didn’t seem like a complete asshole, nor had he started preaching—and really, that was all you cared about. You kept staring off down towards the back of the plane, mind still fixated on the mysterious man.

“You ready?” says Jack, ducking out of the cockpit.

“Huh?” you say distractedly, head snapping to look at the pilot. 

Another crew member has appeared, she’s wearing the same uniform as you and she’s standing there patiently waiting for you. You had only briefly spoken to her earlier, she had said her name was Sister Hayley you think. A nun. Not that the woman looked anything like a nun.

“Arm and crosscheck?” he says.

“Oh, yes, right.”

When miles above ground and flying somewhere over the Atlantic ocean you’re giving out drinks. The man in the silver mask declines anything, choosing instead to lounge on the plush seating like an overgrown cat while the woman—who had politely introduced herself as Sister Imperator—sat in one of the comfortable chairs at a small desk. You’d given her a drink—a gin and tonic—and then headed down to go find the enigmatic Papa Emeritus.

The office is empty and so you head to the bedroom, the door is closed and you knock politely before sliding it open. You find the man propped up on the bed, book in hand and a pair of glasses perched low on his long nose. He glances up at you and the darkly painted lips quirk into a pleased smile. It makes your stomach flip.

“Sir, would you like a drink?” you ask, standing there with your hands clasped in front of you. “Or something to eat?”

The man gives you a smile, easy and smug. Again you wonder why he was wearing such tight trousers. What the hell kind of church was he from?

“Si, wine, per favore. Anything from the stock in the kitchens. Pick something.” He gives you a long look. “Two glasses.”

“No problem, sir, anything to eat?” you ask. Fuck you wish he’d stop looking at you like that.

His painted lips quirk but he shakes his head. “Just bring the wine, signorina.”

You head to the little kitchen and randomly grab a bottle, simply picking one based on the label. You grab two glasses and then walk back towards the suite. You smile politely as you enter and place the glasses on the little table next to him.

“Is this to your liking, sir?” you ask, holding out the bottle for him to inspect. 

“Papa,” he says, leaning over to peer at the label before he nods. “Not ‘sir’.”

You pour him a glass and place the bottle beside it. “Is there anything else?”

He closes the book he is reading a throws it on the bed, you catch the cover—it’s in a different language but it has a picture of a goat and a pentagram on it. He waves a hand at the other glass.

“Pour yourself one as well, signorina.”

You frown at him. “That is kind of you, but I am working.”

The man winks at you, grabbing the bottle himself and pouring out a measured amount. You watch the liquid slosh in the glass.

“I promise I won’t tell,” he says, extending it out to you.

You take it and hold it awkwardly, the smile on your face fixed. You did not want to get in trouble with Jack and lose your job. But a glass couldn’t help and you’d attended to everyone. You sip it and Papa smiles.

Somehow you end up two glasses deep. It’s not enough to make you drunk but damn it’s enough to make you feel far too relaxed. And you’ve somehow found yourself sitting next to him on the bed. You really should go back though. But it’s been lovely chatting to him, he talks of his flock with affection and mentions Sister Imperator fondly.

“This might be a stupid question,” you ask, the wine having loosened your tongue, “but what exactly are you a priest of?”

He laughs and it’s such a pleasant sound that you can’t help but smile. You’ve grown used to his strange face and it’s somewhat endearing to watch the lines on his face move as he chuckles.

“Not a priest, dolce,” he says. “Once upon a time, si, but now I am Papa.”

“You say that like I should know what you mean,” you reply.

“Like the Pope.” He grins. “Less preaching about the good of man and much more sinning.”

You cannot help but laugh, it sounds ridiculous. “I thought god said sinning was bad.”

“We do not worship a false god of fabricated mercy,” he utters, voice low. You stop laughing at the serious expression on his face, but it melts away when he adds. “We worship the lord below who relishes in sin. We are human, si? So we should take comfort in the pleasures it provides.”

“You’re telling me you worship the devil?” you ask, breath hitching when he leans in a little closer.

“Si,” he says, eyes fixed on you. “And I fear I have not worshipped in his name today at all. Perhaps you can help me, dolce?”

Suddenly his mouth is on yours. You freeze a movement but when you respond, his hands hold your face and pull him flush against him. His mouth is urgent and hot against yours, tongue delving into your mouth while your legs tangle together. Your lipstick is smudged red over his face and you’re certain he’s covered yours in black—you can taste it on your own lips but it doesn’t matter. He kisses like he is worshipping, hungry and possessive. It makes your head spin and you completely forget that this is certainly a breach of conduct. Especially when he’s flipping you onto your back, dragging your legs to the edge of the bed as he pushes your skirt up to bunch around your waist/

“Sorry, dolce, but now I’m feeling rather hungry.”

You hear the snap of your garter belt and feel the tension ease around your stockings so he can pull your knickers down your legs. Before you can draw another breath his face is between your legs, his breath skating over your wet folds before his tongue is flicking against you. You moan, hands instantly grabbing tufts of his peppered hair between your fingers as he works some sort of ungodly magic on your aching cunt.

Fucking hell.

Your back arches as he draws the tension out, leaving you panting on the edge of delirium. His arms move under your thighs and pull you closer to him as he devours you. You pull at his hair and grind against his face, unable to stop yourself from seeking more glorious threads of pleasure to wind tighter around your core.

His mouth breaks away as he can come up for air. You stare at him with a heavy-lidded expression, taking in that wicked mouth all glistening and smeared with paint by your own slick. He looked like the fucking devil and you were more than willing to sell your soul if it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“Cazzo, your pussy is delicious, dolce,” he breathes, nipping at the inside of your thigh.

His face returns to press against your cunt. And that nose! It’s pressed against your clit, mouth wet and tongue searching while his moustache tickles your skin. You arch back and your hands grip the sheets as the plane suddenly rocks—turbulence. Fuck.

Jack’s voice floats through the plane’s intercom system, certainly a mood killer, but Papa doesn’t stop. 

“Please return to your seat, we are experiencing some mild turbulence.”

The craft rocks again but your eyes are too busy rolling into the back of your head as he eats you out like he’s on death row and you're his last meal.

You moan when you feel fingers, leather-clad ones, pressing into your pussy and stretching you. You bounce on his hand when you hit another pocket of turbulence, and his grip on your thigh tightens while the other hand is busy pumping into your wetness. Another pocket and another moan have you on the edge and trembling.

It doesn’t take much to have you rocking along with the aircraft as you come. You try not to moan too loudly and shove your fist in your mouth but Papa leans up and pulls your arm away from your face, that devilish visage hovering over you.

“Don’t silence such pretty sounds, dolce.”

You sigh, luxuriating in the waves that still ripple through you while the plane rocks again. Fuck. You feel his body move away from yours and you sigh. Your eyes had fallen closed as you relaxed but they snap open when you feel him crawl on top of you. He’s rid himself of some of his clothes—well, most of them. A heavily unbuttoned shirt was the only thing on him. You can see the hairs on his firm chest and when you feel his cock pressing between your legs you immediately spread them for him.

When he sinks into your welcoming pussy you moan. The stretch feels incredible and you desperately tilt your hips so he can sink in further. When he bottoms out, you both sigh. Papa has removed his gloves, and his large hands hold your hips, creasing the fabric of your uniform even further as he starts to pump into you.

You’re already so worked up and sensitive that you are already ready to come again quickly. Your walls are squeezing him and the sounds it draws from his lips are downright demonic. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulders so you can thrust up to meet him, both of your movements becoming hurried in your desperation for release.

“Do you want my cock so badly, signorina?” he growls, leaning over you and thrusting into you roughly. Your pant out a yes, or something that was meant to be a yes and only comes out as a string of incoherent nonsense as you nod your head fervently. “You have to come for me first, dolce.”

A hand moves between your bodies and he's rubbing at your swollen and sensitive clit. You cry out, not giving a single fuck that the entire plane can probably hear you. The plane rocks one last time and you hear the seatbelt sign turn off. But you are barely paying any attention to anything else except his cock buried inside you.

The tension in your core tightens again and with another deep thrust he has you coming apart for him. Your eyes shut as it crashes through you but he doesn’t stop. Your hands are gripping feebly at his shoulders, then the nape of his neck, his hair and then fistfuls of the front of his shirt to bring his mouth against yours.

You feel his cock swell within you as he growls against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lips as his hips jerk. You feel him come, painting the inside of your cunt as he continues to thrust into you while his tongue does the same to your mouth. It’s desperate and you’re sweating in your uniform but you don’t care. It feels far too fucking good.

When the high finally eases and he rolls off you to lie beside you, you sigh in relief. Fuck that was something, you think.

“You call that worship?” you pant, turning your head lazily to look at him Your makeup and hair must be absolutely ruined because his is completely ruined. He looks deranged with his hair falling in his face and his paint all smeared.

He hums. “Si. My lord believes in the power of the female orgasm. Is there anything more divine than pleasure?”

You shake your head, mind still foggy with bliss. You utter the only words you can think of. 

“Did you still want your inflight meal?”

He grins at you. “Maybe in an hour or so, signorina. I just ate.”

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hello! Can you write a small fic about Mr. Qi falling in love and proposing to the Farmer pretty please 🥺

Sure thing, dear anon! Have some Mr. Qi x Farmer one shot! Enjoy 💕

_________________________________________

Of all Mr. Qi's quests and tasks that Farmer had ever received, this one was the strangest. And it was so because... well, there was nothing strange about it, which was rather atypical for the mysterious blue man. No descending into Skull Cavern under any conditions, no growing blue fruit with a funny face and sunglasses. Nothing like that, the paper of the letter they pulled out from the mailbox in the morning simply had only one sentence written on it, "I'm waiting for you at my casino today. Don't make me wait, dear."

"Dear"... If Farmer had told anyone that the man who for a year and a half had given them the most extraordinary tasks for generous and interesting rewards had become their lover, no one would have believed them. On the other hand, the people of Pelican Town are no longer surprised by the deeds of "The Hero of The Stardew Valley," "The Most Chaotic Farmer in the World," and "The One Who Drank a Jar of Mayo on a Bet" (Farmer definitely had a few more nicknames, but can't remember them all anymore). So if they introduce Mr. Qi, an unusual wizard and demi-god, as their partner, it'll be just like a normal Tuesday for the locals.

Hmm, no specific date was written, but Farmer's curiosity was as immense as their determination and stubbornness. So quickly rearranging farm chores, they changed into clean clothes and headed for one of the four teleport obelisks. A simple touch of the huge structure with their fingertips and in the blink of an eye, instead of blooming field of crops, the Calico Desert appeared before Farmer's eyes, with its relentless heat, palm trees, cacti, and of course, the Oasis.

Reaching the shop door, Farmer was greeted by the cool air conditioning and Sandy's warm smile. The shop owner always welcomes guests, especially guests like Farmer (best friend and good customer!). They handed the girl a bouquet of daffodils they had managed to pick before teleporting to the Calico Desert, at which the girl's smile grew even wider. Sandy offered Farmer a cup of cool milk, but they politely declined, heading toward the door to the Casino while the girl accompanied them with an interested look. Standing like an unshakable rock, the perpetually serious-faced Bouncer silently stepped aside to allow the club member to pass. Farmer nodded their thanks, and without wasting a moment more, entered the dark room.

The sounds of slot machines, the clinking of glasses with expensive cocktails, the smell of cigars, someone's loud laughter and a voice full of disappointment at the lost amount of money... Everything sparkled with gold and diamonds, luxurious carpets and expensive furniture, and even being an honored guest of the Casino, Farmer felt a little uneasy. All the noise reminded them strongly of the city environment they had lived in before. It was not bad here, but the wooden house, cows and and forest were more dear to their soul.

"It's good to see you, darling." Thankfully, Farmer didn't have to wonder for long what to occupy themself with until Qi met them.

They turned back around and their gaze softened at the sight of their favourite person. Still the same familiar black clothes and hat adorned with gems shimmering in different colours of the rainbow, still the same round purple glasses and still the same enigmatic smile.

Mr Qi stepped closer to Farmer so they could hear him better amidst all the noise in the casino.

"I knew you'd come as soon as you read the letter."

"You always know how to keep me intrigued." Farmer smiled slyly. "Though this time I'm all guessing as to what the assignment will be."

"Does it have to be another assignment? Isn't just spending time together an good reason to meet?"

Farmer also shortened the distance, almost walking right up to Qi, gazing into his face.

"Of course, it's a great reason too. Especially since I was starting to miss you," if they weren't in the centre of the room, surrounded by people, Farmer would have taken off Qi's glasses to see his beautiful, cosmic eyes. "It's just that usually on occasions like this you turn up on your own, rather than sending letters."

He chuckled. "True. And there is a reason for that, my soul. There is something I must show you. But first...

We need to move somewhere a little more... private."

The snap of Qi's fingers echoed loudly in Farmer's ears, and the world before their eyes faded into darkness. The background noise of the casino was gone - no more clinking of coins or chattering of club members. Before the young farmer could worry, the entire black space was filled with the glow of a thousand stars, as if they were in outer space. Qi's figure stood in the same place where it had been when they were in the Casino, still smiling mysteriously. Except that the blue man's gaze, hidden behind a thick layer of glasses, was full of love at the sight of his beloved Farmer and the thought of how beautiful they were, surrounded by lights in the pitch darkness. As they gazed with delight at the space into which Qi had transported them and himself - after all, he always knew how to surprise them!

Raising his hand upwards, Mr. Qi's palm was enveloped in threads of his magic until an object materialised a few seconds later. Farmer's eyes, mesmerised by the stranger's magic, nearly flew in or out of their orbits when they realised what their mystical partner was holding.

"I guess I don't need to remind you of the traditions of your cute little town," Qi rubbed the Mermaid pendant between his fingers, the material was smooth and pleasant to the touch, "though I think you deserve a whole world more than just this pendant."

Qi had planned this moment in advance, choosing the right words and the right time. However, the speech he was about to make was interrupted by Farmer's abrupt embrace and a passionate kiss. Not even the great Qi could have foreseen such a thing.

"Tut-tut," although he tried to look like he wanted to lightly scold Farmer, there wasn't an ounce of annoyance in his voice. "I've prepared a whole speech, dear. It is not very polite to interrupt your interlocutor so rudely-" but even here Farmer did not let him finish, but once more touched Qi's lips with their. The man himself didn't seem to mind any more - it was at least a little different from what he had planned, but hearing the quiet and happy "I accept" from his lover, Mr. Qi no longer thought of going according to the script.

It had turned out even much better than that.

[ramayantika]

Tere Rang

“It’s going to be a Krishna song for the dance competition once again, right?” said, Ananya, inserting the last juda pin in her friend, Vilasini’s hair.

Vilasini, a seventeen-year-old science student in class eleven was all set for the senior’s inter-school dance fest that was to be held at her school. She wore a dark blue lehenga with gold embroidery that shimmered under the lights. Her best friend, Ananya, had taken the responsibility of getting Vilasini ready for the competition because, she was good at stage makeup and hairstyling, a skill, Vilasini was yet to acquire perfectly.

“You know me well, Ananya,” said, Vilasini, her face donning a faint shade of the setting sun.

Ananya looked at her friend’s bashful face, whose eyes had immediately moved down to the floor at the mention of Krishna, the god, the charmer of hearts from a bygone era. As she braids flowers into Vilasini’s hair, she wonders how did a girl from today’s time fall in love with a God when people barely utter a prayer under their breaths.

Krishna… the name itself was beautiful. Though Ananya was not that much of a believer in gods and goddesses, she happily supported her friend in her beliefs. For Ananya, Krishna was not a God, but a great historical character, an important figure to learn from especially in today’s time. Sometimes she offered flowers to the Krishna murti at her house after a lot of pestering from her mother, but she would spend a lot of time reading stories and articles about him.

Vilasini, on the other hand appeared to be a modern generation saint. She spoke softly and so slowly in a gentle voice that made everyone feel as if a divine aura surrounded them. For Vilasini, Krishna was her life force, her breath, and her purpose for living. She woke up with Krishna’s name on her lips and welcomed sleep with only Krishna’s name on her lips.

“You remind me of the saint poet, Meera, do you know?” Ananya said, after finishing her work on Vilasini’s hair left beautifully open with a half bun pinned with jasmine and rose flowers.

Vilasini turned her head from her reflection towards her friend. “No one can be Meerabai in this generation. Not even me, even if I try to.”

Ananya smiled and shook her head. Checking the last details of Vilasini’s makeup and hair, she said, “Fine, but I am damn sure, you will look the prettiest contestant there.”

Smiling, Vilasini replied, patting the creases on her skirt, “All thanks to my talented sakhi here.”

“I like the way the word sakhi sounds. So gentle and beautiful.”

***

Vilasini’s performance was the last one in the list. Ananya had decided to stay with her friend instead of joining the audience just for the sole reason of helping her friend for any last-minute mishaps and to maintain her friend’s confidence.

Tapping her feet, Vilasini asked, “Will I be able to perform well? There have been so many good performances before me. Also, I have a very simple song. Will anyone be interested in watching mine anymore after all the splendid presentations?”

Ananya looked at the boy dancing on the stage on Hai Rama in a bolly-hiphop fusion style. Turning her gaze towards her friend, she said, “Sometimes, the most simple things are the most thoughtful ones. Have faith in your practice and Krishna. And just like you always do, dance for your Krishna, for him alone.”

A minute later, the boy was done with his performance, and the audience erupted in cheers and applause. The host, one of Vilasini’s classmates, then announced her arrival on stage and signalled at the small back room upstairs to start playing Vilasini’s music.

“All the best, Vilasini. Go win the stage and your dear Kanha’s heart,” wished Ananya.

Vilasini nodded at her friend and muttered Krishna’s name under her breath as she took a twirl to enter the stage on the beats of the sitar.

Alai payuthey kanna en manam miga alai payuthe…

Vilasini’s fingers show the movement of waves as the song goes on to depict how her mind flows like waves when she hears Krishna’s melodious flute. The golden embroidery on her lehenga glitters under the yellow stage lights on the ceiling. If her voice alone was enough to bring tranquil in her listener’s hearts, her dance was captivating to catch everyone’s attention. No matter what they were doing earlier, all their eyes and other senses stand still on seeing her move on stage like a swan.

Nilai peyandru Kanna , shilai polave nindra,

Neram avathu ariyamale miga

Vinodhamana Murali Dhara , en manam…

The blue dupatta twirls around her and covers her face for a second before moving away like a sea wave gently going back from the shore. As the blue veils falls off from her face, Vilasini sees a boy seated in the corner of the audience, looking the most striking and attractive amongst all. Her breath stands still as she portrays a woman standing like a statue after being lost in the lovely cowherd’s music.

Her ghungroos produce an enchanting sound in sync with the beats of the song. Her body sways to the music as light as the branches of the kadamba tree. It appeared as if Vilasini’s soul danced on stage and not only just her body. Ananya smiles at her friend’s performance when a flash of gold passes her eye on the opposite side of the stage. Blinking her eyes once again, she lets out a gasp when she sees a long peacock feather on the ground.

There is no one on the opposite side of the stage except the host who is on her phone.

Telinda nilvu patta pagal pol eriyuthe , un dikkai nokki yen iru puruvam neriyuthe…

Kanintha un venu ganam kattil varugudhe , kangal sorugi oru vidhamay varugudhe…

Vilasini’s heart races as a strange yet divine awareness fills her being. Her beloved is right here. She can’t see him, but feel his presence. As she mouths the lyrics while performing, a small lock of hair escapes the clutch of the clips pinned to her hair and lightly tickle her left cheek.

A soft whisper teases her ear, “Why search for me elsewhere, when I exist right in front of you priye?”

Ananya notices her friend’s mouth open slightly, as if she heard something else other than the song. The moment lasts for only a mere second and Vilasini is back to her performance. Her expressions change from being a shy bashful girl talking to Krishna to being a passionate heroine desperate to see her lover. Vilasini’s large doe-like eyes turn watery and they move around like a deer in search of Krishna. Ananya observes the vulnerability in her stance. Her friend was far beyond the music. She was in a mystical realm of divine love and longing.

Kathitha pathathil oruthi manathai

Enakku alitthu mahizhtthavaa…

As Vilasini points to her lovely alta-dyed feet, her eyes spot another dark foot adorned with a gold anklet just beside her. Before she could stare at the foot that had fallen in step with her, she feels someone hold her arm and turn her around. The touch, light as a feather, and warm as a lover’s.

Her body bends gracefully to the side, her fingers laced together and arms raised up, with the neck slightly bent downwards. When her eyes travel up, she sees the one, whom she had been desperately dreaming about since childhood, her one true love.

“Prananatha?” She murmurs.

“The one and only,” says, the dark beloved lord of her heart. Pretty feet around, which lie two beautiful gold anklets. A golden yellow dhoti and a royal blue uttariya over his shoulders, broad arms laden with golden arm bands and the signature peacock feather on his crown, the darling heart thief of Vrindavana bows at her.

No long does Vilasini care about the audience. It’s a wonder if she even cares about herself anymore. Her limbs move on their own accord, or perhaps on Krishna’s accord. Ananya senses something strange near her friend, and even near herself.

The energy in the auditorium has changed. Teachers and students sit still with their senses lost, eyes all dazed and drowsy as if witnessing something hypnotic in front of them. The judges don’t write the scores, their pens now resting on the table. Ananya wonders if someone is actually even breathing or not.

Oru thanitha vanatthil anaitthu enakku

Unarcchi koduthu Mughizhtthavaa…

“Man, is she really hugging someone on stage?” mutters, Ananya, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion laced in her features.

Vilasini’s slender arms curl around her beloved lord’s neck, as she takes a round about the stage. Her feet daintily move around, their pace slow as if time itself had slowed down to let Vilasini absorb the moment. “I have waited for this moment all my life, Krishna.”

Her song album doesn’t have a flute tune, but what limits does Krishna have? He plays a sweet mellifluous tune from his flute that has enchanted the world since the third cycle of time. Vilasini’s nimble fingers caress Krishna’s curls as he dances near her, his smile enchanting and disarming like a sharp arrow aimed straight towards her heart.

“I have had too many women falling over me, but I wouldn’t like you to fall down for me physically here on stage. We have a performance to show.”

“The world does not matter to me anymore. Only you do,” says, Vilasini, her voice, only a mere whisper.

KaNai kadal alaiyinil

Kadhiravan oliyinil

Inai iru kazhalena kazhikkavaa?…

“The ever-flowing waves keep meeting the shore, and the sun sheds its light to the whole of mankind. How long would it be until my friend finally starts to acknowledge my presence?” Ananya hears a manly playful voice near her ears, causing her to jump a little in fright.

To Vilasini, if the lord of the Universe appeared in the form of a young charming boy with a lovely peacock feather and a gracious smile, then to Ananya, he appeared in the form of a glorious king decked in silks and jewels, befitting his royal lineage and handsome charm.

“The fuck?”

“I thought you would have realized me by now, but i realized that you actually did not. Here I am to finally show myself to my sakhi.”

“When did I become your sakhi?”

Rolling his beautiful dark eyes, he sighs, and says, “Years ago, when you were merely a six-year-old and your colony children did not include you in their games, you came to me and asked me to be your friend.” He pouts, and gives her a mock glare, “Batao meri mitrata ke yahi din aagaye…?”

Ananya blinks her eyes rapidly. “This is a literal prank now. Tell me who are you?”

Placing his hands over his hips, the lord of Dwaraka says, “The world’s famous and naughtiest prankster.”

“And you are also there with her…?” Ananya pointed towards her friend.

“Ask me where am I not?”

The stage lights change from yellow to bluish-green, making the darling of Vrindavana look even more ethereal. His eyes gleam like a diamond’s lustrous glow and Vilasini’s eyes go lost in his tender gaze. He raises his arm, and Vilasini lifts her fingers to graze his wrist when he gently holds her hand and makes her sway around him.

Kadhari manam uruhi naan azhaikkavo?

Fresh tears drip down her eyes as she takes in the beauty of her beloved. She could dance for him to his tunes forever and ever until one day her breath flies away and she merges into her love, her God. Krishna’s eyes gleam on catching sight of his devotee’s love-filled eyes, and Vilasini’s eyes gleam with happy tears on finally finding her God, her life.

A dazzling scene unfolds in front of Ananya’s eyes. Krishna yellow robes and Vilasini’s blue lehenga sparkle like a scene from a fantasy movie. When their hands meet, a red aura forms around them, and when their feet brush against one other, a soft white halo forms around them. She doesn’t let her eyelids fall for even a second as realization dawns on her about the concept of Jivatmaa and Parmatmaa.

“Now do you see?” Dwarkadheesh asks.

Ananya hesitantly lets out a breath, afraid that even a slightest of movement would disrupt the enchanting vision in front of her. “Yes, everything.”

Is it some illusion or is it the naked truth? How does one even breathe or move when the lord of the senses, the mastermind behind all, comes in front of you and smiles like a dear old friend from the past? What is God? Is he a friend or a teacher? Is he a child or a lover? Did the poets from the bygone era write such colourful poetry of lovelorn nayikas, searching for their dear Kanhaiya after experiencing the same emotions like the two girls facing now? I do not know about the others, but Krishna is like water. Just like water takes the shape of the container it is housed in, so does our Kanhaiya gladly conform to the shades of various characters we see him as.

One is an observer, marvelled at the glorious sight. How can she go back to the world now?

One is a participant of the colourful play, a mystical performance of the universe, a dance that can never completely be given justice in description. It can only be seen through the eyes and felt by the heart. It cannot be danced by the body. Only the soul dances. She never belonged to the world.

“Priye do you see now?”

And the dancer blushes like a bride, her voice breathy and low, “I now see it all, Prananatha.”

************* **************** ************* ************** *********

This was requested by @purplelandsworld

I deviated slightly from the request because a crazy krishna dream struck and i began listeniing to tere rang and Alai payuthey so i really really reaaly hope you like this one. This one is a little different from what i usually write byt anyway i hope you find it nice

Also you all i had been waiting to get this written down from a long time but kanhaiya here made me busy with college work. Now he finally gave me my college so here's a little token for him from my side

And before some of you come up to me saying haww this is indecent and krishna isn't a netflix look if it were indecent krishna would never let me write it. Besides all of it have also been my own scenarios to keep me happy with krishna so kindly do not interfere. And this fic was inspired from a really pretty dream i saw and god krishna took my heart away even in the dream then so i added some of those parts in this one too.

tagging: @shut-up-rabert @ketchup-jar-ka @krishna-sahacharini

@krishna-priyatama @jessbeinme15 @arachneofthoughts @kaal-naagin @reallythoughtfulwizard @thegleamingmoon @ma-douce-souffrance

[smallraindrops-blog]

Footsteps on Time’s sands.

(A Sleep Family Tale)

Word count:5.4k

Summary: The trials of fatherhood are certainly not for the weak.

Warnings: no beta, swearing, some hurt/comfort.

Notes: Ahh, thank everyone for your patience. I hope y'all enjoy this. 

Extra: The sleep children are all the mental age of eight, Morpheus is around seven, the twin five and Phobetor about fourish.

Dark waves rushed toward you, but you ignored the call of the sea as you double checked that you had all the coins you needed. 

You casted a wary glare at the nosy seagulls, some of those damn birds were worse than magpies. Opening the satchel, you counted once then one more time. 

Satisfied you had enough for everything, you hurried up the cliff toward the agora. Typically it would take half an hour but you had found this shortcut along the beach years ago, filled with rocks that you had to climb and try not to slip on tossed up kelp.

You winced when you almost did just that but caught yourself easily and continued onward.

When you reached the top, you peered over the top, fingers gripping tightly on the edge and you saw the pale stones of the agora, the sun just beginning to light the skies in rosy golds and lavenders. 

You pushed yourself up and over the top with a grin, rolling down until you were able to stop enough to stand and brushed the dirt off your arms.

Then you ran down the grassy knolls, wild poppies swaying as you hurried past, your steps scaring off birds into the skies. 

The market was nearly empty, with most people still in bed and the fishermen yet to arrive with today’s fresh catches. 

Something you were thankful for, you hated large crowds and you didn’t have your parents to create a path for you to trail behind. 

There were a few merchants who shot you a curious glance only to dismiss you when they saw how young you were. Which was fine by you. They weren’t the reasons you were here.

Near the center, there was a certain booth, nearly overflowing with scrolls and random odds bits and ends. Last time the old man had a shiny rock from the Black Sea that he claimed would cure anything. And he would not sell it for anything.

You were polite enough not to point out the blue flakes of paint peeling off the rock. Although the pointed glance Pa gave you also made you hold your tongue.

When you arrived, you saw the scrolls, the now mostly gray rock but the old man wasn’t there. You were still smaller than most, so you had to stand on your toes to look over the booth.

”Hey, is anyone there?” You called out. 

“Over here, you draft lad.” A voice wheezed and you twisted around, spying the old man sitting near the top of the steps. You ignored the insult, jogging over to him. 

“Why are you over here?” You joined him, staying out of reach of his cane. His gray eyes swung to you, his bald head shiny in the morning light, wrinkles softened his harsh scowl.

Tityros the merchant scoffed at you, shifting as he placed one leg out with a pained grunt. “Because I am old, why else?”

You shrugged, rubbing at your chin. You didn’t know what age had to do with Tityros being on the steps.

“Where is your Pa, lad?” Tityros asked, peering over you with a worried frown.

”I came alone.” You informed him. “I am buying him a gift for Cronia.” 

You gestured past the stairs to where hung flowers and colorful fabric danced in the breeze. Officially the festival to celebrate Fathers and the gods started today but it will be in the afternoon when the party really began.

”Do you remember last week when Pa and I came by? There was a scroll he kept looking at, something about herbs?” You spoke in a rush, already getting a touch impatient. 

You had hoped to be back before the sun rose over the buildings. And before your parents had a chance to build their anger at you for sneaking out. Hopefully the gifts would make them forget about you breaking the rules. 

”Aye, I do. But I can’t help you right now.” Tityros grumbled. 

You scowled at him. “What? Why not?”

Tityros chuckled bitterly, and pointed at the bottom of the steps. There was a cart with a mule attached, its tail knocking away flies. Inside were crates, some with scrolls and more shiny rocks.

Maybe you should have told Tityros he was being scammed. You doubted rocks could heal people, or otherwise Pa would use them. 

“Those are my new wares and I need to bring them up. My worthless son-in-law was supposed to be here to help me but he never showed up.” Tityros said, waving at you to leave. “So unless you are strong enough to carry everything up for me, come later.”

Scowling, you glanced at the cart. Father had been making you carry huge feed bags for training lately and you were willing to bet that the boxes didn’t weigh much more. so you rushed down the stairs, ignoring the astonished glance Tityros gave you. 

The shock on the man’s face only grew as he watched you went back and forward, carrying each crate without much effort. You knew you were still smaller than most, skinnier too but you were a little insulted by the surprise on his face.

When you were done, you paused by him and turned to him with a frown. “Do you need the mule too?” 

“My gods. No, lad.” Tityros stood, his cane in front of him like he might wack you if you got too close. “Don’t you try to carry me either.” 

“The scroll?” You asked hopefully. The old man sighed and hobbled over to his booth. You pulled out your pouch from the satchel, debating if you wanted to haggle or not when he waved at you.

”Put that away.” He ordered. “You already did enough.”  

You hesitated, then nodded. 

Tityros muttered, tapping his chin as he went through his goods. You tried not to look impatient. You suspected you didn’t succeed. 

”Ah. Here ya go.” He handed it over and you glanced over the scroll, biting back a smile when you saw it was the right one. 

“Lad.” Tityros waited for your attention. “You wouldn’t happen to be in the market for a wife, are you? I have a young unmarried daughter.”

Your face twisted in disgust. 

You had seen plenty of gross lovey dovey stuff at home with your parents. And you knew enough that happy wives -or companions, your parents had told you repeatedly during that horrible talk of bees and birds- would want the lovey dovey stuff, like- urg- kisses. And hugs.

“I’m eight.” You informed him dryly. That made him laugh, his breathing turned wheezy.

”Bah, you were more useful in the last ten minutes than my son-in-law had been in the last ten years. Go on now. Git.” Tityros said, still chuckling.

With Pa’s gifts in your hands, you went to buy your Father a gift. There was a lady who made candied figs, and you tolerated her fussing as she placed several fat ones in a bag that you brought with you. 

“Such a sweet little lamb, you are. Most sons don’t buy their fathers anything.” Iris said, sending a pointed glance to her son who was only a few years older. The young man ignored his mother, still counting the coins. Although you saw a smirk when his mom said ‘little’

”Father is easy to buy for.” You said politely, mouth twisting at the smug glare her son gave you. 

You didn’t play with the other boys, most who already loomed over you. You didn’t like how they crowded and they were always too loud. That and you knew they disliked you on sight for some reason.

She smile at that and added two more extra figs with a wink. You grinned at her as thanks.

”You are going to leave a trail of broken hearts behind you.” She told you as she gave the bag over.  Her son scoffed but you ignored it. 

“Thank you.” You told her before taking off. 

You glanced toward the skies, wincing a little when you saw it was mostly blue. Which meant that your parents were definitely awake and probably wondering where you were. 

Maybe the figs would be enough to sway your father but Pa would likely make you do extra math homework as punishment. And if they were really upset you knew extra laps with the feed bags were in your future.

You grumbled as you began the journey home with your prizes, weaving around the quickly growing crowd. You saw a few of the son’s friends trailing after you, hoping for an new victim but it was easy to lose them among the crowd. 

The rolling green hills seemed to reach up into the blue skies, fat white clouds drifted, casting shadows onto the land.

Pausing, you considered the bright red poppies. Maybe flowers would be a good idea. You knelt in the dirt, carefully grabbing a handful, careful to not be greedy with the plant. 

Besides Pa could use it, it was medicine after all. 

You considered the short cut but with the flowers and gifts, you knew you risked dropping the hard won prizes. So you picked up speed, racing along the beaten path, with a fistful of poppies and the satchel swung over your shoulders. 

It was when you were halfway to the house that you heard your name in a booming roar. You silded to a stop, dust kicking up around you. 

Then you saw your father farther down, looking like a blue dot with how far he was, his golden hair was like a crown in the sunlight. Your father yelled your name once more, moving quickly.

Father was running. Toward you.

And he looked furious.

You yelped and acted purely on instinct, you turned around and began to run as fast your little legs could carry you.

”LAD! TURN AROUND NOW!” Achilles roared like a lion but you didn’t obey. He said something else but Pa had told you that you weren’t allowed to repeat that word until you were an adult.

You knew you should stop running but your legs kept moving. 

Then hands grabbed you around the waist and you screamed as you were lifted up in the air. You winced when you turned around and saw the harsh glare your father gave.

”Lad.” Achilles said through gritted teeth. “Where in the Hades have you been?”

You opened your mouth to speak but Father kept talking.

”Do you know how scared your pa and I were when we woke up and you were gone? Have you lost your mind, lad? I swear you are the reason I am going mad in my old age-“  

“I’m sorry.”  You muttered. “I wanted to be back before you woke up.”

That only seemed to upset Father even more, his eyes nearly going cross in his rage. “Before we woke up? Have you been doing this regularly?”

”I have a good reason!” You protested. 

“Save it.” Achilles said, tucking you under his arm like you were a basket. “I don’t want to hear a single word out of you until we get home, understand?” 

You huffed, sulking as you crossed your arms. 

“Lad, do you understand?” Achilles repeated, his mouth thinned in a disapproving line.

”You told me not to speak!” You snapped back, glaring up at him. 

“That is not-“ Achilles stopped himself, took a sharp inhale through his nose as he closed his eyes. He let out a breath then began the walk home, moving far more quickly.

When Pa saw you both, he rushed over with pure relief on his face. Guilt was a heavy stone in your chest.

”Put him down, Achilles.” Pa ordered and Father obeyed, crossing his arms over his chest once he did so, staring you down. you didn't want to meet either one of their gaze so you stared at your feet.

Pa knelt in front of you, cupping your face between his warm palms, gentle as he made you look up at him. His skin was still a little gray from the stress and the stone became a boulder.

“Lad, where do you go?” Pa asked gently, his dark eyes scanning you for injuries. 

“To the markets.” You told him and Pa frowned.

“Why?” Father asked, as he joined you. He looked a little calmer at least. 

“Father’s Day.” You said. That seemed to surprise them, sharing a glance.

You shoved the poppies right into their faces until Pa took them, then you reached into the satchel and pulled out the bag of candied figs and the scroll, giving them over to their respective owners. 

“These are gifts so I couldn’t tell you about them.” You explained, rocking on your heels. 

“Oh lad.” Pa placed the gifts down and pulled you in a tight hug, his beard rubbing against your forehead as he gave you a kiss. Gross. But it was okay just this once you supposed.

“This was very thoughtful of you but you shouldn’t leave without a single word to anyone. Next time, tell us okay?” Pa sighed. “My heart can’t take this.”

”Okay.” you agreed and Achilles ran a hand over his face before he placed a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Thank you, I love these.” Then he sighed. “But you know the rules. I still have to punish you, do you understand why?”

”Because I broke the rules.”

”Because what you did was dangerous.” Achilles corrected gently. “What if something happened? We wouldn’t be able to find you.”

You considered his words then nodded. “M’ sorry.”

”It will be tomorrow however. I need to share all these sweets with someone, my lad.” Achilles ruffled your hair, grinning when you smacked his hand away. “Beside next time, the gift will be letting us sleep in.”

He shared a wry glance with Patroclus. “Happy Father’s Day, my beloved.” 

Patroclus laughed, his dark eyes gleaming. “Happy Father’s Day to you too.”

~~

(In the distance future)

Under the dark canopy of faint stars, it was as if the world itself was serene, content with peace and quiet. All there was Hypnos’ soft curls under your chin, his warmth pressed on top of you, legs tangled together. 

You sighed, bushing a kiss on his curls, tightening your arms around him as you settled back into the pillows, fully intending to fall back to sleep. 

Then a noise. Followed by more.

It wasn’t a loud one but the rush of tiny feet against the stone told you enough. It was likely Phobetor. The older children had taken up floating everywhere. Something that bothered little Photbetor to bits since he was still too young. 

You sighed, keeping your eyes closed in hopes that you imagined it. 

Hypnos muttered something, his brow furrowed as he rubbed his cheek against your chest. Then his eyes opened and he peered up at you with a frown. His beautiful eyes were hazy, dark with dreams. His long curls spilled over his shoulders like moonlight.

”One of the kids is awake.” You informed him in a whisper, brushing your knuckle against his cheek.

“Your kid is awake, you mean?” Hypnos grumbled, laying back down with a sigh. You pressed a kiss against his curls, rubbing his back.

Then you heard the door crack open. “Father? Dad? Are you awake?”

“No, starlight. We aren’t.” Hypnos called out, rolling off you with a sigh. You immediately missed his body and copied his heavy sigh.

Phobetor rushed over, climbing up the high bed with ease. He was still so small. You kept your eyes closed as your youngest climbed over you and Hypnos. His little feet and sharp elbows digging into you. 

Then Phobetor lifted one of your eyelids with tiny fingers, peering into your eye with a frown. gods, he really did look like you, save for his golden irises. It was a little disconcerting.

“Wake up Father. You need to be up to celebrate Father’s Day.” Your son informed you, his twisted mouth spoke of how unimpressed he was. 

Hypnos sat up with a wide yawn, and smiled when Phobetor immediately cuddled up to him, wrapping their youngest in a tight hug.

You admired the sight of them, the warmth in your chest impossible soft and tender. There was something about Hypnos holding their children that made you softer than a cloud.

Then Hypnos brushed a stray lock out of Phobetor’s eyes and asked. “Are the rest of your siblings playing?”

Phobetor huffed and crossed his arms. “They left.”

That woke you up. 

“What?” You said as you got up, ignoring Hypnos’ worried glance as you leaned closer to Phobetor. “What do you mean, they left?” 

“I wanted to go with them, they were going to Uncle Charon’s shop but they told me to stay here.” Phobetor grumbled. “They said I was a baby.”

You inhaled sharply, anger growing deep in your belly as you rolled out the bed to find your clothes. Hypnos got up as well, placing Phobetor down on the bed.

”We can go there first-“ Hypnos said quickly, his eyes wide and fearful but you shook your head.

”Stay here in case they come back. We can’t both leave.” You ordered sharply, causing Hypnos to wince. You didn't mean to snap but you always knew where the children were, like you did your own limbs and the idea that they were just gone was unfathomable.

Fear was a living, breathing thing, claws digging deep into your heart. There were constant battles happening and many warriors didn't care that Hypnos’ children, your children, were far too young to fight even with all the training you gave them.

Or what if something worse happens...

Gods, you would drown every soul in the underworld in the river lethe if someone laid a single finger on any of them.

“Ooh, are they in trouble?” Phobetor asked gleefully. Hypnos shushed him as he picked Photetor back up.  

“Stay here, love.” You gentled your tone as you grabbed the spear. You went around the bed to him. You grabbed his chin and gave him a swift kiss. An apology, a goodbye and reassurance all in one.

”I will summon you if they return before you do.” Hypnos told you quietly, trying to keep a brave face for Phobetor. 

When you rushed out of the home, you were thankful to see that it seemed to be a quiet day in Elysium. If there were any battles happening, it wasn’t near the home.   

That didn’t slow your desperate pace however as you traveled the path to Charon’s shop. Hopefully the boatman would realize that the children shouldn’t be on their own and will keep them there when you show up.

The market was busy as always, with far too many fucking shades around. You pushed through the crowd, not giving a damn about the dirty glances you earned. They could all go to Tartarus as far as you were concerned.

When you saw the shop, with Charon looming over the shades like always but no children, you growled in frustration. 

“Lord Charon!” You called out, getting his attention. His glowing eyes rested on you as you approached him.

”Have you seen the kids? Morpheus and the twins left the house.” You said. Your heart dropped when he shook his head. “Can you inform Hypnos if you do see them?”

The god nodded, crossing a finger over his heart. You nodded your thanks, trying to think where to start the search.

“Lad!” Your father’s voice boomed over the crowd and you whirled around. Charon did the same and you heard his groan of relief.

Achilles waved at you from a food shall, grinning widely.  Right next to him was Icelos and her eyes grew wide and flashed you her most charming smile. The one that told you she knew exactly how much trouble she was in. 

Pa was talking to the cook, Phantasos tucked safely in his arms as Morpheus floated over everyone’s head, chatting.

You rushed over, not bothering to hide your stormy expression. Both boys winced when they saw you coming. Morpheus floated down slowly as you came over, guilt clear in his expression. 

And Phantasos gave Pa a hopeful glance but at his head shake, Phantasos joined his siblings.

”Children.” You thundered. “What in the blood and darkness were you thinking?” 

Morpheus opened his mouth but you cut him off. ”I don't want to hear it. Do you realize how much trouble are all three in? You broke the rules that your dad and I had very clearly set! You are to never leave the house without one of us.”

”but-“ Icelos tried to say, getting that head-headed expression that Hypnos claimed that she learned from you. 

”No buts.” You cut her off. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. You are lucky your grandparents found you and not some stranger.” 

They winced, not looking at you and you forced yourself to stop, to cool your anger and you rubbed your forehead, feeling a headache coming on.  

Normally you had a grip on your anger, never wanting your children scared of you. But they had never disobeyed like this before.

You knelt down, getting to their eye level. A mix of gold and purple irises stared back at you, all round and heavy like Hypnos. Like that the anger left your body, but you kept your expression stern. “My stars, why did you leave the house without me or your dad?”

”Father’s day.” Morpheus said with a shrug, kicking at the ground. “We came here to buy you and dad a gift.”

“And gifts are supposed to be surprises.” The twins rushed to say, their voice mixing together.

A ghost of a memory, of rolling hills and candied figs danced in your memory. Old man Tityros and that sweet, overworked mother Iris. Their faces swimmed before your eyes. 

”Gee, that doesn’t sound familiar at all.” Achilles murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. Patroclus nudged him to be quiet but you saw the same smile played on his face as well. 

You scowled at them. Then glanced at your children. 

“We will continue this conversation at home.” You warned them as you stood, then you gave your parents a glance. “Thank you for keeping an eye on them.”

Pa chuckled, placing a hand on Phan’s head, ruffling his hair. “It is a gift to see my grandchildren. Especially when it is a surprise.” 

You scowled at them. 

“I hope our fishing trip is still on?” Achilles added a moment later and you sighed. 

“Of course it is. But I need to take them home first. They owe their dad an apology for scaring him. And me.”

Your parents murmured their agreement, handing over a basket worth of kebab. You took it, not able to think of a reason to not accept. The children were quiet, sullen as you and them headed back.

And you kept running the conversation through your head, picking apart everything you said. Hypnos was the one who was good with the kids, not you. He always seemed to know what to do.

Then you thought the icy grip of pure fear in your stomach, of the way Hypnos looked, like his heart stopped. 

Gods, what if your parents haven’t found them? Or you never did? They would just be gone and it would destroy Hypnos. It would destroy you.

When you arrived back at the house, Hypnos had pulled each of the children in his arms, checking over them before hugging them tightly.

“I can’t believe you.” Hypnos said, his voice trembling as he collapsed in a chaise, his back against you for support. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do you know how scared we were?” 

“We’re sorry.” The twins said at the same time, grabbing each other’s hand for comfort. 

Phan nodded. “Really, we just wanted to surprise you.”

”Well, you certainly did that, my little stars.” Hypnos grumbled but his smile was already returning, his breathing a little easier.

Morpheus crossed his arms, staying quiet. You gave him a silent, pointed look.

Hypnos turned his smile to Morpheus. “Next time, just tell one of us. We would have arranged something.”

”I was keeping an eye on them.” Morpheus scoffed, waving off Hypnos’ concerns.“I had everything handled. Besides, nothing happened. ”

His disrespectful tone toward Hypnos made you narrow your eyes. Your voice wasn’t kind when you spoke, the jagged anger returning. “Morpheus, you are to never use that kind of tone with your dad. Do you understand me?”

Morpheus flinched but he seemed determined to dig the hole deeper. “But I did, father!”

“And if someone tried to battle you, or tried to steal one of you away, then what? We didn’t know where you were. Everything can change in an instant, lad.” You said darkly. “You’re the firstborn, I expect you to act like it.”

Hypnos touched your hand but you didn’t look at him, keep your hard stare on the children. Morpheus gave a jerky nod, his eyes lowered to the ground.

“Your dad and I will be deciding your punishment. Until then, go to your rooms.” You informed them after a moment, giving all three of them an unimpressed glance. They murmured their agreement as they began to leave, then Icelos paused.

“But are we still going to see our grandparents?” Icelos asked, worried clear in her eyes. 

“Of course, you are.” You responded, suddenly exhausted. Gods, how did your parents handle this? You felt like you were always making a mistake. “But that will be later.”

Once they were safely tucked away in their rooms, you let your shoulders slumped. Hypnos tugged your hand, encouraging you to join him on the chaise. You obeyed, pulling him into an embrace. 

You and him sat in the stillness for a long time. 

“I don’t know if we handled that right at all.” You confessed quietly, your mouth against Hypnos’ curls. 

Hypnos sighed, pressing in closer. “I don’t know if we did either.” 

“I owe my parents an apology.” You muttered after a few seconds passed and that got Hypnos to laugh a little. 

“At least they only had one of you, not four to deal with.” Hypnos teased. 

“I was enough, believe me.” You informed him, kissing his forehead.

~

As if it never happened, the twins were laughing, squealing as Achilles chased after them, the fishing poles left behind. He caught them easily, laughing as he plopped down with them.

”Forget the fishes, I’m going to have little godlings for supper!” Achilles growled, acting as if he was going to bite them. The twins squealed loudly, giggling and kicking. 

Patroclus and Hypnos were calmer, sitting by the river and chatting about the new goings ons in the House, little Phobetor napping away in his Grandpa’s arms.

You would have been able to enjoy the moment - and a part of you did- but your eyes kept going back to Morpheus. Your oldest son had his back turned to everyone, still quiet and sullen. His small hands plucked more grass out, leaving an ever growing bald spot in the dirt. 

Patroclus also gave Morpheus a glance. He had already been told what happened afterwards. “He is going to pull out every blade of grass at this rate.” 

“Should one of us go speak to him?” Hypnos whispered, his eyes on you. You considered his question. You had thought giving him space, some breathing room would be best but now you were doubting that.

“I think it should be me.” You replied. “But what should I say?”

Hypnos bit on a thumbnail as he thought it over.

”May I offer something?” Achilles spoke up as he joined the group, bringing your eyes toward him. The twins were back at the poles, checking to see if they caught anything yet.

“Yes. Please.” Hypnos muttered and you nodded along. “Today was something else.”

“Just sit with him.”  Achilles smiled, the look in his eyes a little hazy as if lost in a memory. “Sometimes just having company is enough.”

”And when he speaks, listen well.” Patroclus added quietly, smiling down at little Phobetor dozing in his arms.

Mustering up the courage - and patience- you went to your son. 

He glanced up in surprise when you joined him but quickly turned his head away, his pale curls hiding his expression.

Morpheus began to aggressively pull out more grass, this time by the fistful. Oddly enough, you felt a moment of dry amusement. It was such a small, petty thing. Something Hypnos would do. 

You and him sat together, not speaking as the twins began to chase after Achilles with a stick. Their grandfather was a good sport, making sure to be slow enough for them to chase. 

The noises must have finally woken Phobetor and you bit back a smile as you heard him join the chase, demanding for them to wait for him.

Morpheus turned his head toward them, a flash of longing on his face. It made your heart ache.

”You should join them.” You told him gently. Morpheus only shrugged, glancing away and giving up on the grass as he folded his arms over his knees. He very carefully didn’t look at you. 

He looked so much like Hypnos that it tugged at you, it was a bittersweet heartbreak to see the love of your life reflected back in another’s face. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Morpheus said finally. “I really thought that I was doing a good job.”

”Ah.” You said, considering his words. 

”And- I know not to do it next time, I just…” Morpheus paused, clearly struggling with what to say. You just nodded, waiting for your son to speak. You wanted to reach out and hold him. 

In a silent offer, you held out an arm, letting Morpheus decide. He didn’t hesitate, moving over to curl against you, his face tucked against your side. You held him tightly, squeezing when you heard sniffles.

”I’m sorry.” Morpheus sobbed a little, rubbing his face against you. “I really didn’t mean to scare anyone.” 

“Oh, lad.” You muttered, letting him cry for a few moments before you reached over to tip his face up. His face was flushed, golden eyes shiny with unshed tears. You wiped away the ones on his face.

“You know the reason we got scared is because of how much we love you, right? We don’t want anything bad to happen to you or your siblings.” You told him, cupping his cheek to keep his eyes on you.

”I know. ‘M sorry.” He said again. 

Unable to bear it, you hugged him with both arms. Morpheus returned it, his little arms tight around your waist. 

“I accept your apology although you still need to give your dad one as well.”

”I will. I promise.” Morpheus said, giving you a devastating, wobbly smile. Gods help you, he looked so much like Hypnos.

“You know, I did the exact same thing once.” You confessed to him with a grin. His eyes went wide. 

Before he could ask, Icelos let out a war cry. You and Morpheus turned at the sounds of frustration and you chuckled when you saw why. 

Achilles was evading the children easily, parrying with his own stick. He was tossing little out little insults, getting them more riled up. 

You looked down at Morpheus, smiling. “Looks like they could use some help.” 

Morpheus hesitated, his little wings folded tightly against his curls. “Aren’t I still in trouble?”

”You are still going to have to do your punishment. But that is later. Right now, your grandfather is winning and you know he won’t ever let any of you forget it.” 

That seemed to do it, Morpheus’ expression turned determined as he stood. He paused, giving you one last quick hug. “Tell me later?”

”I will.” You promised, returning the hug.

He rushed over with his own war cry, tackling Achilles who saw him coming but acted surprised anyway, going down with a dramatic yell.

You scoffed and returned to Hypnos, who beamed up at you. You took his hand into your, fingers locking together. 

”Patroclus, my beloved! Help!” Achilles cried, laughing as the children continued to show him no mercy.

Pa huffed as he stood, taking his sweet time as he went over. “Careful, little ones. You know your grandfather is a delicate flower.”

Hypnos squeezed your hand, and you leaned down to give him a chase kiss. He smiled against your lips. 

“Happy Father’s Day.” Hypnos whispered. ”I love you.”

”You too.” You told him. “I couldn’t do this without you.” 

“Literally. Considering how they were born.” Hypnos teased, getting an amused eyeroll out of you. 

Hypnos rested his head on your shoulder, his expression serene with his close eyes. The way your parents were laughing, as they played with their grandchildren like they still couldn’t believe they existed.

The bright, happy expression of all four of your children were forever encased in your mind’s eye. Your heart was so full, overflowing with gratitude. 

You kissed the top of Hypnos’ head and whispered so quietly only you and him knew what said. 

Thank you.