#on top of Circe’s palace

[leynaeithnea]

These cut songs in Epic have no right to be such bangers

[sigurdjarlson]

Why does no one but alleria care khadgar “died” tho

Like jaina was like “we’ll mourn him in time” and then no one but Alleria and Anduin mentioned it at all after that

[consultinghuntertimelord]

Died to say: I see a song of past romance, I see the sacrifice of man. I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand.

Forced to say: I drank wine, from a chalice, on top of Circe's palace

[opheliaveu]

You climb up the stairs of Circe’s palace. You’ve only drank a little wine, but you’re already tipsy. Your tolerance must have waned. It’s not like alcohol was easy to come by these days. Same with food in general.

The view from the top is beautiful. It’s unparalleled — the greenery, the flowers glinting in the night, and the stars from above. You sit silently by the edge. It’s unlike the constant, endless blue from the ship. Your hands reach for the sky, and moonlight goes through your fingertips.

You look down to blood splattered across the walls of a cave and ships being consumed by waves all around and wreckage and bodies, hundreds of bodies floating in the water dyed red red red as saltwater burns your eyes and nose and you—

Stop thinking about it.

You open another bottle of wine, pouring it into the chalice and drink.

You don’t think about it. If only for this night, you can forget.

Hours pass, just you and the dark night sky. And you look down to the ground again.

What would happen if you fell here? Would it all end? Your journey thus far has been long and strenuous. You know that they wouldn’t mind. One man down. They would understand. Would this finally be over

—you see him so so happy with the lotus eaters and you think he shouldn’t have to stay here but they have to leave and he’s broken all over again because he remembers and all you can do is stay for him because if you don’t, he’d—

You remember his smile. You remember how he closes his heart. You remember his arms, warm against you as you huddled together on cold nights. You remember how his brown eyes reflect the sunset. You remember when you were on the deck of the ship, and he put his hand on yours. They were rough and callused from the years of fighting and war, just like yours. He recoiled immediately when he realized how long he had holding yours, cheeks flushed, and he turned away from you while you laughed.

You can’t. You can’t do that. You can’t do that to him.

You have to keep going.

By the gods, what have you been thinking? You shake your head, your mind throbbing. The wine—the wine has been playing with your senses. You need to get off this ledge now. The crew has probably noticed your absence. Youngest crewman you are, you also have responsibilities to fulfill, no matter how tiresome.

You attempt to lift yourself off the edge. But as you struggle to keep your balance, your grip slips, the wind whistles in your ears, and suddenly, you are no more.

[xfilesinamajor]

Second in Command

There are days—more and more, lately—when he forgets that home even exists. The fig trees, the goats, the view from the palace at the top of the hill, stone floors and a soft bed, the background noise of the slaves gossiping, the sound of Ctimene’s laughter. It feels as if all of that was not a different lifetime, but an ancient fever dream, something that never really existed at all.

What does cheese taste like? All he can think of is the underripe fruit they find on the shores of tiny inlets, and the fish they catch and share. There’s never enough of either. Not enough for 42, let alone the 600 who left Troy two years ago.

At least he thinks it was two years. Elpinor was the one counting, keeping track, diligently marking every time the sun rose. Maybe it’s just as well he died on Circe’s island. There were no dawns in the Underworld, no storms or meals to judge how much time was passing. Were they there one day, or twelve? The constant hunger, fitful sleep, and strange visions made it hard to tell.

He had looked for Elpinor, down there. Because his death had been so fresh, and so stupid. To survive the war, the cyclops, the storm, the sea god, the witch, only to fall from a roof? Where was the justice in that?

He should know better than to expect justice by now, in any form. Most of the time, he does. Justice is a useful tool in ruling an island or fighting a war, but when it comes to survival…

Anyway, he didn’t see Elpinor in the Underworld. He saw the face of the first man he killed in battle, staring unblinkingly up at him from the murky waters, as if judging him silently. Just as he’d done when he fell to the ground outside the walls of Troy, the light of life fading from his eyes as one hand weakly crept toward the spear in his throat.

He could have screamed into the waters, as some men had. Demanded to know what the dead wanted of him. It was a war. He hadn’t asked to go, but he had vowed not to bring shame to himself and his family once he got there. He had a beautiful bride waiting for him, and parents to make proud, and whatever these Trojans had done to incur the wrath of Menelaus, he was going to do his best to destroy them. He has no business feeling guilt over the death of one pathetic enemy soldier. By now he is responsible for the deaths of hundreds. None of the others followed their ship through the Underworld, judging him with dead eyes.

What did the others see? No one spoke of it. Nireus had cried silently but constantly until he fell at last into sleep, Theasides had screamed and thrashed around as though he were being attacked, and Odysseus himself had stood there with his lips moving silently in conversations no one else heard. But no one spoke of what they saw. Not then, and not in the weeks that have stretched into months since they returned to the realm of the living.

Are they living? These days hardly seem to count as life. Perhaps they are all dead already. But the men are still hungry, the blazing sun still burns their skin, they still wake and sleep. When there were more of them, a whole fleet trailing behind, there were jokes. He doesn’t often remember his life on Same, but he does remember the early days of the trip from Troy. High on victory and spoils, full of hope and excitement at the prospect of returning home. The shouting and laughter had been loud enough to travel over the waters, spreading from one ship to another, infecting the entire fleet with happiness.

Sometimes he thinks of Polites and wonders how much would have changed if he had lived. Probably the captain would have listened to his foolish trust and naivete one time too many, and they would be in the Underworld already. He’d like to believe that. Because if it’s not true, then Polites…no, he wasn’t right! He had loved Polites, too, but that man had never seen the world as it truly was. He’d never seen the danger and darkness all around them. He’d been great with a bow, but he’d had no common sense.

And yet…Odysseus had trusted Polites. Had he lived, the captain might have relied upon Polites to guard the wind bag. Perhaps Polites could have persuaded him to trust Eurylochus, too. They could have taken it in turns, ensuring that bag stayed closed, and the captain wouldn’t have nearly killed himself from lack of sleep.

Sharing that duty would have been the smart thing to do. Hadn’t he said as much to Odysseus? Hadn’t he offered to share the burden? But no, the captain had been stubborn, as he always was, trusting the wind bag to no one but himself, going without sleep until first his temper began to crack, then his focus began to wane, and finally until the waking hallucinations began.

Eurylochus is the second in command. He couldn’t just sit back and watch his captain, his friend, his brother destroy himself in such a way! And yes, maybe…yes, he had been hurt that Odysseus would not share the responsibility. Weren’t they brothers? Wasn’t he next in the line of command? Why wouldn’t Odysseus trust him to watch the bag while he slept? No man on board would have dared try to take it from him by force.

The captain didn’t trust him. That was what it came down to. Odysseus hadn’t trusted him. He had chosen to destroy himself rather than accept help from Eurylochus. That truth had burned a deep, angry hole inside him and at last he had lost his temper, tearing open the bag to prove to himself that there wasn’t really a storm inside. The captain’s stubbornness had convinced him that the gods were playing games, giving them an empty bag and laughing as they watched to see how long Odysseus would deprive himself of sleep to protect this bag of nothing. He’d wanted to prove that he was smarter than Odysseus, that failing to trust him had been a mistake.

Instead he’d proved the opposite, and the guilt of that has been a constant companion to him ever since. The deaths of those 552 men at the hands of the sea god—he carries just as much of the blame for that as the captain. Odysseus was the one who told the cyclops his true name and left him alive. But Eurylochus is the one who opened the bag that brought Poseidon to them.

What would Ctimene think of him, if she were to see him now? He can imagine how he looks: burnt, scarred, emaciated, filthy, shoulders rounded by years of guilt and weariness. If that didn’t stop her embracing him, the knowledge of all that he’s done surely would. He left home to bring her honor, and nothing he’s done since the war is worthy of honor. All he can do is continue to look out for the remaining men as best he can.

Not that it matters. He’s never going to see Ctimene again, if she ever truly existed at all. He will never taste another bite of soft goat cheese or watch the wind rippling through the leaves of the trees on his island. It is not that he’s resigned to his own death, though there are moments when he thinks he would find it a welcome relief. No, he will not go down without a fight, not as long as his men need him, not while he still has a job to do. There’s a chance, just a small one, that they will find a place that has food, shelter, relative safety. With full stomachs, a week of good sleep, and no one trying to kill them, it’s possible that the morale of the crew might improve. It could be that life will become worth living again.

But making it home? The only one who still believes that is Odysseus, and how he continues to do so is anyone’s guess. It’s impossible. Poseidon won’t allow it. Defying the gods seldom ends well for those foolish and bold enough to try. The captain’s luck has brought him this far, but it can’t last forever.

The only big question remaining is what will come next. Gods? Monsters? Death? Peace? Or simply day after day of slow starvation, watching what little hope remains in the faces of his friends fade into desperation and madness? He doesn’t like to think about that, so he focuses on smaller questions. Which way the wind is blowing. How much safe drinking water remains. Whether they will catch any fish, or if they seaweed they chew on will make them sick. How long he’ll be able to persuade his friends to exercise, practice combat, stay active.

Whether the growing rift between himself and Odysseus, which gets progressively harder to ignore, is from the guilt of the secret he carries, or perhaps the guilt that Odysseus himself carries. Has he done something to upset the cold, harsh man who he used to consider a friend? Or is his captain simply angry at him because he still lives, when Polites does not?

How much longer can this go on?

[makeasplash15]

I want to talk about Eurylochus.

When the Thunder Saga came out the general reaction towards him was something along the lines of "Big talk from the guy who opened the bag" and I was on that train. I'm still on that train in a way. I don't think I will ever like Eurylochus. That doesn't mean I don't think Odysseus is at fault for anything. He shouldn't have given the cyclops his name and address and maybe he should have at least tried to give Poseidon a proper apology - not that I think it would have worked - but his flaws come from hubris. He's been Athena's special boy his whole life so it makes sense that he falls into the trap of thinking he can impress or trick the gods into tipping the scales in his favor and it takes him a while to realize that not all of them have a soft spot for him, but he's also brave, clever, and determined. These are all qualities I admire greatly.

Eurylochus isn't.

He voices his doubts for every decision Odysseus makes and never offers suggestions. He's the "voice of the crew" yet he tried to persuade Odysseus to abandon the men who were turned into pigs when it was Eurylochus who failed to stop them from entering Circe's palace. If he had misgivings, he should have ordered them not to enter. If he didn't, he should have been in there with them. Now, maybe the men were enchanted or maybe they ignored him because they were hungry, but that's not the impression I got from Puppeteer. He's cautious to the point of indecision, he prioritizes his personal survival over that of the crew, and he disobeyed a direct order when he opened the bag. These are qualities that I personally dislike. And, yes, you could say that he grows as a person off-screen because he confesses what he did to Odysseus and fights on the crew's behalf, except he was in just as much danger at the end and he knew it. Eurylochus knew that Odysseus was counting on Scylla killing him. Was his mutiny justified? Yes. There is a difference between losing men and sacrificing them and it was clear that Odysseus had given up on getting the entire crew home to Ithaca by that point. And to be honest, I didn't expect Eurylochus to bandage Odysseus' wounds. I fully expected the crew to toss him off the ship so points to Eurylochus for that. There's just something about how he desperately asks for forgiveness immediately after admitting he opened the bag - Did the crew know? Did they cover for him? - and his later "But we'll die" that makes me think that on top his other less savory qualities that I mentioned, he refuses to accept any kind of accountability for his actions. In fact, he fears it. Part of why he mutinied, I think, was because he realized that Odysseus was never going to forgive him.

Are they both flawed characters? Yes. Are they both at fault for the losses the crew suffered? Yes. Did Eurylochus have every example of what not to do and do it anyway? YES

[rosegoldenatlas]

day 1 of pointing out easter eggs in epic the musical

BTW some are confirmed by the creator of epic (marked by an asterisk) others are not.

*it is not explicitly said but during the Circe saga its canon that one guy died by getting drunk an falling off the top of her palace thing and dying. You can tell that the one guy died because in 'Ruthlessness' the crew is down to 43 men but in 'the underworld' the dead soldiers sauy that 558 died under his command. This is part of the og myth but its fun he put it in there.

-musically speaking though we get some fun callbacks such as in the song 'there are other ways' right before Odysseus is going to kiss Circe, his wife Penelope's melody plays quietly in the background, signalling that he remembered his wife.

*Odysseus either a, cannot keep track of the years he has been gone, or b, is lying to Circe to appeal to her in the song 'there are other ways' as he says he has been gone twelve years when in reality he has been gone for ten

*Jorge wants Odysseus' dog to be canon!!!!!!

[sandyisswag]

It’s him the one and only... Elpenor

Aka the one who died and nobody noticeced nor cared

The one who drank wine from a chalice on top of circe’s palace and fell and broke his neck in shame

But why would ody care so many deaths happend under his reign

[squeaksquawks]

Got tagged to do WIP Wednesday by @pumpkinlass !

My personal life has been a bit hectic recently, so I have a bucket full of WIPS in the pipeline! We've got a Leliana pinup, my annual Circe Winter Palace outfit design, and some OC stuff I've been toying around with on top of a BOTW screenshot redraw I did for fun, my attempt so far to clean up that imogen/laudna drawing, and a little Fenris with Hawke's favor idea I've been messing with!

I usually don't tag people on these things, but I'll try it out! I'm tagging @purahs, @hajima-7 and @layalu !

[classicslesbianopinions]

Ancient Woman Thunderdome 2023

Round 3 Match 6: Psyche vs. Scylla!

The rules: Vote based on who would win in a fight, NOT who you like more. Consider factors such as physical prowess, intelligence or cunning, and magical ability.

If the character has multiple non-godly forms, consider the one you believe to be more powerful. If the character is a goddess for a portion of their life, please only consider their mortal or non-godly form.

The fighters:

Fighter: Psyche Source(s): Apuleis's Metamorphoses, various other mythological sources Bio: Psyche was the most beautiful of three sisters, so beautiful no one would marry her, rather seeing her as pristine. Her parents consulted the Oracle of Delphi, who told them to dress her for a funeral and put her at the top of a mountain. Psyche wept to do so. But once she was there, Zephyr, the west wind, blew her away until she wound up in a very pleasant valley, next to a beautiful palace. Psyche approached the palace and was greeted by a disembodied voice: this was her husband. She slowly fell in love with him, although he was invisible, but he only came at night, and wouldn't let her see his face or know his name, and she soon grew lonely during the day. So she invited her two sisters to visit, but they were jealous, and convinced her that she needed to see her husband. Psyche snuck into his room while he was sleeping and saw that he was the god Eros, but oil from her lamp dripped onto his face, waking him up and injuring him. He ran away. In an effort to get him back, Psyche completed four trials from Aphrodite, helped along the way by various animals and gods. In the end, Eros found her again, and they were married.

Fighter: Scylla Source(s): Homer's Odyssey, Virgil's Aeneid, Ovid's Metamorphoses, various other mythological sources Bio: Scylla was originally a woman. She was loved by Glaucus, but she didn't love him back; he went to Circe, asking for a love potion, but Circe fell in love with Glaucus, and instead of giving him a potion, she poisoned Scylla's bathwater so that when she went to bathe, she turned into a monster with dogs coming from her thighs. She lived across a narrow channel from Charybdis, creating a difficult passage for any sailors.

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Supernova Bio

Real Name: (Various translations) Methuselah, Earendel

More Legendary Translations (Though she doesn’t really go by them): Artemis, Athena, Cassiopeia, Eris, Nyx, Psykhe, Andromeda, Ceto, Asteria, Melinoe, Persephone, Hestia, Nemesis, Mnemosyne, Cilo, Hebe, Circe, Thanatos, Soteria, Hecate Kaun Yin (etc.)

Chosen Name: Supernova

Nickname(s): Nova

Titles (at the time of her death): Queen of Elder, Elder Queen, Supernova Queen

Former Titles: Princess of Elder, Elder Princess, Supernova Princess

Age: Nearly Thirteen Billion

Quote: “I’ve found that if people think I’m less than I actually am, the more satisfying it is for me, and more shocking it is for them, when I prove them wrong.”

“I am not your little princess. There’s a reason I was the inspiration for so many feared Goddesses."

Human Appearance: Curly Red/Blonde Hair, Purple eyes, Five Foot Three.

Natural Appearance: Curly Multi-colored Hair, Purple Eyes, Five Foot Three

Species: Elder (Neighbor planet of Gallifrey)

Status: Suppressed but Alive

Cause of Supposed Death: Shot by Dalek after trying to save the Doctor’s life

Powers/Abilities: Empathy, Mild Telepathy, Reincarnation, Aura-Seeing, Mind Palace, Light Manipulation, Heat Manipulation, Optional Semi-Immortality, Levitation, Memory Transfer, Gravity Manipulation,

Oddities: Silver Tears; when Elders die, their bodies glow and cause a violent seeming although ultimately harmless explosion outward; Legend says that some are capable of reincarnating as new Elders or other alien species if their gods view them worthy enough, only one has been proven worthy enough.

Relations:

Kassandra (Mother, Deceased)

Castiel (Father, Deceased)

Narcissus (Husband via Arranged Marriage, Deceased)

Personality: Loyal to a fault; Kind; Compassionate; Fierce; Protective; Intelligent; Scary when angry; Geeky; Witty; Sarcastic; Tomboy; Just; Selfless; Shy, Hufflepuff, Brave, Curious, Soft, Insecure, Secret Badass, Observant, Strong, Fighter, Trusting, Loving, Violent, Impulsive, Scatterbrained, Pessimistic, Eccedentiast (Hides her pain with smiles), Cold Anger, Hyperactive, Insensitive, Masks her feelings, Perceptive, Paradoxical

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Hogwarts Hybrid: Gryfflepuff (Hufflepuff/Gryffindor)

Fears:

Claustrophobia — Fear of small, enclosed spaces — As a princess she grew to resent enclosed spaces as she often felt trapped.

Likes: Freedom, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Reading, Helping, The color purple, Traveling with the Doctor, Halloween, Kindness, Mischief, The Doctor, Violence, Proving people wrong

Dislikes: Being Bored, Feeling Trapped, Most People, Wearing dresses, Looking girly, Being called girly, The color pink, Valentine's Day, Conformity, Being forced to conform to royal forms

Tendencies: To go on philosophical tangents, to help those who feel distressed, to become violently protective; Tranquil Fury

Skills/Abilities: Sword Fighting, Acting, Sherlock Scan (Look on tvtropes.org), Intellect, Weapon Proficiency, Fighting, Martial Arts, Hacking, Omnilingual, Ability to use a Mind Palace (Like in Sherlock.)

Possible Disorder(s): ADHD, Directional Dyslexia

Sexuality: Heteroflexible Demisexual

Wardrobe: Flannel; Plaid; Leather Jackets; Beanies; Graphic tees; High tops; Boots; Trench Coats

Accessories: 3D Glow-In-The-Dark Galaxy Ball Pendant (Chameleon Arch), Alien Sword that Changes Its Blade As Per Wielder’s Mental Command

Friends: Ozzie Clarus (First love/Ex; Deceased), The Doctor, The Master (Presumed Deceased), Sarah Jane Smith, (Various other companions of the Doctor)

Enemies: Daleks, Cybermen, Narcissus

Love Interests: 

Ozzie Clarus (First Love/Ex; Deceased)

The Doctor (Crush)

The Master (One-Sided Crush on his side; Presumed Deceased)

Narcissus (Husband by Arranged Marriage; Deceased)

Face Claim(s):

Malina Weissman (Violet Baudelaire)

Katherine Langford (Hannah Baker/Morgan Stark/Nimue/Leah Burke/Meg Thrombey)

[leynaeithnea]

Got a song stuck in my mind, now its your turn:

ELPEEENOOOR

I died but nobody noticed :< I died but nobody cared :<

Elpeeenor, how did this happen? When did you meet your despair??

I DRANK WINE FROM A CHALICE ON TOP OF CIRCES PALACE AND FELL AND BROKE MY NECK IN SHAME, BUT WHAT DO YOU CARE??? >:[ SO MANY DEATHS HAPPEN UNDER YOUUR REIGNN ~

[spheresr4cubes]

You haven't seen the last of me yet

LINK: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14216768/1/Long-Time-Gone

Moomin Valley -- Long Time Gone

Nuuska (Snufkin) finally meets his father and hears the strange tale of what kept him away for sixteen long years. //TW: Dissociation, alcohol, drowning.

CHAPTER FOUR (4/4)

            Circe sat at the gilded table on the veranda and looked to be enjoying xeir wine tremendously as Juksu walked in. Xe stood, silken robe falling around xeir broad, beautiful shoulders, and bent down to plant a kiss on his head. Xeir rubies tinkled against each other.

            “Broken into the cellar early, have we?” he asked chipperly, and xe nodded.

            “After last night, I couldn’t help myself. It’s strange—I’ve never felt so hungry, so thirsty before! And it’s all so delicious!”

            Xe licked her lips and bent down against to kiss his cheeks: “Delicious…”

            Xe kissed his mouth: “Delicious… Here! Have a drink with me!”

            Circe turned clumsily back to the table and poured a crystal goblet over-full with golden, bubbling cider, thrusting it toward him with a toothy grin. He took it and smiled as if nothing were the matter. Circe held up xeir own glass, clinking them together: “To our continued happiness!”

            “And a silent volcano!” Juksu added.

            They drank deeply. Circe made delighted noises of joy at the flavor, smacking xeir lips. There was strange hunger in xeir eyes, a mischief, as Juksu swirled his glass and watched the liquid cling to the walls.

            “It’s very strong,” he mused, and Circe nodded, putting xeir empty glass down on the table.

            “Yes,” xe said, coming closer. “I hope it is.”

            Xe struck quick as a serpent, grasping his skull between xeir palms. But instead of the icy drowsiness of xeir mesmer, there was only the hot excitement of xeir lips against his, the sharpness of xeir teeth, and the alcohol on xeir breath.

            “I’m starved, dear one,” xe sighed against his face. “Let’s feast.”

            Xe gave no time to answer, grabbing him around the middle and forcing him to the floor, his glass falling and cracking. Xe did not tease his hesitation, did not mention his trembling as xe had the night before. Xeir talons dug into his skin with no mercy. Xeir teeth bit into his flesh without a second thought. He struggled to breathe, to think, with xeir full weight on top of him, and Circe took his hands and pressed them firmly to either side of xeir bare chest. Under the rubies. His finger brushed something embedded into the skin and bone.

            He wanted to go home.

            With a heave, he rolled xem on to xeir back, straddling xeir thin hips. He trailed his fingers across xeir chest, and xe giggled drunkenly as he pulled his face away. Silently and in one swift movement, he sank his claws into the flesh around the ridge of the ruby heart and ripped it out.

            Circe screamed, grasping his arm and shirt. The horror in xeir face stretched down against xeir skull, xeir dazzling eyes collapsing into xeir sockets. Xeir body bloated and shrank and withered, the skin drying to leather in an instant, and the whole of the palace shuddered as the ground beneath it stretched awake.

            Juksu clutched the ruby heart tightly in one bloody hand and ran.

            The golden arches were bending under the shaking marble ceiling, their silver fruit bluing with verdigris. The stained glass windows popped and shattered and rained down into the halls. As Juksu slid into the east wing, Fredriksson and Muddler ran headlong into him.

            “Hey!”

            “What are you doing here?!” Fredriksson asked, holding his arms.

            “I came to get you!” The rumbling worsened, and Juksu shoved the ruby heart into his right pocket. “This way! Hurry!”

            The three raced back through the palace, the marble floor cracking beneath them. They climbed over the railing of the veranda and bolted across the growing grass, shoving past new shrubs and sprouting saplings. Juksu looked behind them and past the palace—the volcano was belching smoke and fire, birds fleeing the shuddering, stretching trees. Suddenly, the mouth of the dome cracked, and an explosion of gray cloud raced down the slope and was well into the forest by the time the clap thundered out. They all shut their ears and stumbled as the air snapped around them.

            “That’s not just smoke!” Fredriksson shouted, grabbing on to the Muddler. “We’ll be incinerated!”

            The cloud flowed toward them like a storm, and they ran through the orchard, batting fruit away as it fell, skirting the stones that tumbled down from the palace columns. The edge of the steep cliff was ahead.

            “Oh no,” said Muddler, though he did not stop. “Oh no, oh no, oh—!”

            They leapt.

            The water hit hard, cold and dense, and bubbled up around them as they kicked back to the surface, gasping. The grey cloud rounding the cliff above them lost its footing and tumbled gently down in flurries of hot ash.

            “Are you alright?!” Juksu shouted, glimpsing the other two heads between the waves.

            “We’re fine!” said Muddler with a weak laugh. “We’re okay!”

            “Hell of a ‘good morning’, boy!” joked Fredriksson as they swam closer together. “What on earth did you do?!”

            Juksu hesitated, coughing at the taste of saltwater: “I found it. I got what the old witch wanted.”

            No sooner had he said it did a strange current pass under their feet. The surface of the water shifted nearby. Juksu felt his blood run cold. It was too late to swim, the shore too far away. The Muddler looked to him and saw he’d gone pale, staring down into the dark water. He swallowed hard and looped his arm through his, and they met eyes for only a moment before being yanked under.

            The sea spat them unceremoniously on to the beach. Juksu lied face-down on the pebbles for a moment, breathing deep, gripping Muddler’s paw, and he turned his head just enough to see that he was in fact there. Fredriksson scrambled up from the ground to shake the both of them.

            “Are you alright?! Are you alright?!”

            “I’m fine,” Juksu groaned, pushing himself up. “I’m okay.”

            The Muddler only gave a small whimper and clung to the ground beneath him as desperately as a life-preserver. It was only at the sound of footsteps approaching that any of them looked up and around.

            Petroula came hobbling down, grinning her sharp teeth ear-to-ear: “Well done, boys! Well done! This is the first time anyone’s come back!”

            Fredriksson was on his feet in a flash and stood between her and the others: “Now, you stay back! Did you summon that water creature?!”

            Petroula raised a pale eyebrow: “Obviously. Or did you think you came to me by chance?”

            “Why?!”

            “Why?” Petroula repeated. “Well, because I was hungry, dear! I thought you would have figured that out if you survived, which you have. Oh, don’t look so angry, it’s unbecoming.”

            Juksu wobbled to his feet, staring in disbelief: “You… it was you that sank our ship! You tried to kill us!”

            “Oh no, my dear boy!” Petroula corrected, stepping closer. “Just one of you.”

            Fredriksson kept himself between them, and Petroula pouted: “Honestly! It was only temporary! There’s no good way to get strapping young adventurers to make deals these days. How else am I supposed to eat? Besides, if you’d all failed, you wouldn’t have known the difference, now would you?”

            “You tricked us,” Fredriksson growled at her.

            “Not at all! You two accepted my price, and it was a fair deal, was it not? A life for a life. Now, please… hand over the ruby, and you will no longer be in my debt.”

            The ground shuddered beneath them, and the volcano spat fiery stars into the sky, splashing into the sea with a hiss. Muddler clawed his way to his feet and held tight to Juksu’s arm as one of the comets crashed into the center of the town in front of them. There were no screams.

            “You made a deal,” Petroula said more forcefully, baring her teeth as Circe would. “You agreed to my terms. Give me what I’m owed, or I’ll gladly put things back to how they were when you first landed on my beach.”

            “Low-life!” shouted Fredriksson, stepping forward, but Juksu put out a hand to stop him. He shook his head. After a long moment, Juksu put his hand in his pocket. The red gem glimmered in the choking sunlight, and Petroula’s eyes grew wide with hunger. As she reached out, Juksu took it away.

            “You like to make deals,” he said. “How about one more?”

            Petroula licked her lips, her eyes on the gem: “What’s on your mind?”

            “I give this to you—you let us go home. No traps, no magic, no tricks. We. Go. Home.”

            Petroula grinned a toothy grin: “Alright, boy. You have a deal. You are free.”

            Juksu held back out the gem, and she took it quickly with the tips of her yellowed claws, immediately popping it into her mouth. She swallowed. Her scaly fingers flexed, and she laughed. But the laughter stopped suddenly. She coughed. There was a smell like burning flesh, and she held her throat.

            “What did you do? What did you do?!”

            Juksu’s face was stone, his voice even as he replied, “I promised, didn’t I? You’d get what you were owed.”

            Petroula’s face crinkled in horror and began to flake into ash, a hole burning through her belly and flame catching her wrinkled skin. There was a blood-curdling shriek, a flash of light and heat, and then she was gone. Ash fluttered down to the pebbled beach around the fiery red gem and a blue stone with white lines like waves. Juksu bent down to pick them up, cool to the touch. He placed them into Fredriksson’s hand, closing his fingers around them. They said nothing, could say nothing.

            Muddler held tight to both of them, and the fire rained down on the long-empty town.

            “Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s go.”

            And they did.

*

            “It took a couple weeks to walk back to Dunsinane in the shape we were in,” said Juksu flatly. “I don’t know if it was obvious to you, but it wasn’t to us until we started walking—we’d gotten older. It was sudden. We couldn’t have been on the island more than a week or two, but years had gone by everywhere else. And when I took the ruby—”

            “All that time fell on you,” Nuuska finished for him.

            Juksu nodded slowly: “We didn’t know how much time had actually passed until… well, until Mumintyttö—er, Muminmama—said it.”

            He stared at the grass in front of him, words bubbling in his throat. Finally, he managed: “It was never supposed to be so long. We were never supposed to be gone for so long.”

            He turned to Nuuska with absolute and utter regret: “I was supposed to be here with you. I was supposed to be here, and I wasn’t. I wanted to be here. I promise, I wanted to be with you.”

            Nuuska nodded, scooting toward him and taking one thin, scarred hand between his.

            “I know.”

            “All the things I’ve missed! Losing your baby teeth, learning to fish… your friends, your adventures, your first love—the Lights! We never went to see the Big Lights!”

            “Then we will,” Nuuska said comfortingly. “Papa, we will. We have time.”

            Juksu pressed his forehead to his and took a deep, deep breath. He looked his son in the face and gave a weak chuckle.

            “You got so big,” he said. “You must take after your mother.”

            “Perhaps,” grinned Nuuska, “or Muminmama feeds me too much. Dinner should be soon now… shall we head back?”

            “Yes,” Juksu said, clearing his face, and they stood together. “Yes, I think that’s a splendid idea.”

*

THE END

[idontloveanybodythatsmypower]

✨I drank wine from a chalice✨

on top of circe’s palace??

couldnt be me!

we made out literally yesterday

[909414208]

the freedom of not finishing books..... scary to wield

ive had a yukio mishima short story collection on my shelf for a year meaning to get around to it and finally did the other day.... but ended up completely not enjoying basically anything about the plots or writing lol

im sure it wasn’t helped by being the first book i grabbed after finishing song of solomon by toni morrison because now THAT one blew me away !!! easily one of my top 3 books from this year so far. and tbh the only thing keeping it from first place is the fact that i read anna karenina for the first time in january lmao. 

this is my ranking of the fiction i’ve finished this year, id say the first 5 are all Really Really good, norwegian wood and gatsby were v. good, the rest are a gradient of alright to bad lol

anna karenina

song of solomon

lolita

as i lay dying

the ice palace

norwegian wood

the great gatsby

the best we could do

the memory police

convenience store woman

 circe

lapvona

[absolutepokemontrash]

Happy Father’s Day with the Half Demon Kids!

(Including the Hell Timeline kids! Yay!)

Genre: Floof

Warnings: None

••••••••••••••••••••

“Bah humbug.”

“It isn’t Christmas, Lord Darius.”

“I know, but bah anyway.”

Darius sat curled up on one of the many plush red love seats in one of the palace’s sitting rooms. Barbatos was behind him, vacuuming up the carpet and straightening up a few bits and baubles on the tables.

“What has you grouchy today?” Barbatos asked, with all the godlike patience in the world.

“Everyone’s been actin’ so stupid lately.” Darius mumbled, wrinkling his nose as the whirring of the vacuum got louder and louder as Barbatos began to clean the area closest to the couch.

“Pardon me, Lord Darius,” Barbatos said, his voice raised. “But I can’t quite hear you.”

“I said,” Darius gritted his teeth, sitting up and turning to face his father’s butler with an indignant frown. “EVERYONE’S BEEN ACTIN’ STUPID LATELY!”

“Oh dearie me.” Barbatos mused as he switched off the vacuum and admired his handiwork. “I wonder why that could be.”

“You know something…”

“I know many things.”

“Stop being like that, Barbatos! I order you to tell me what you know!”

“I know that Mr. Fuzzy Cuddle Bear is in desperate need of a wash.”

Darius flushed as red as his hair and quickly sputtered out a reply. “N-not that! About today! What’s happening today!?”

“Hopefully Mr. Fuzzy Cuddle Bear’s bath.”

“DAH!” Darius threw up his hands and hopped off the couch, he stormed out of the sitting room without a second glance at the chuckling butler. “Fine! I’ll find out on my own!”

Barbatos took an unbutlerly moment to quietly laugh about his “victory” over the young prince. Poor Diavolo though…

“Ah, Father, there you are.”

Turning his head, Barbatos saw his hoodie-clad child step into the room, a red velvet cupcake with a smear of white frosting in his hand.

“Tulsi, did you need something-“

“Happy Father’s Day, Barbatos!”

Bursting out from behind Tulsi, Cecilia and Luke thrust a nicely wrapped, thin box into Barbatos’ hands. ‘From Circe, Cecil, and Tulsi’ was written in Cecil’s near-perfect handwriting.

“Yeah, what they said.” Tulsi said with a lopsided grin as he gently placed the cupcake on top of the box.

“Why, thank you both.” Barbatos said, a genuine smile managing to spread its way across his face as he sat down on one of the armchairs and opened the box. His eyes widened when he saw the cover of one of his favourite death metal albums in original record form. Oh how well the children knew him… it almost brought a tear to his eye…

“How did you three manage to get this?” Barbatos asked, gently turning the object over in his hands.

“Found it at a pawn shop a month ago.” Tulsi said with a shrug, but the little grin on his face spoke a million words. “Glad you like it.”

“Yeah! Luke and I helped make the cupcake! Try it! Try it!” Cecilia urged, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet.

The cupcake was almost expertly made, a not-too-sweet cream cheese filling, pleasantly rich in flavour, and a nice soft cake to boot. Delicious!

“Mmm…” Barbatos mumbled with a nod. “Very nicely done, Cecil and Luke.”

“Yes!” Luke whispered, trying to discreetly fist pump.

“Not to break up the conversation, but wasn’t Darius lounging around in here?” Tulsi asked, noting the empty loveseat.

“Ah, right. Young Lord Darius appears to not know what day it is. What a pity.” Barbatos said with a borderline sarcastic shake of his head, the smile he clearly had to muscle through giving his mild delight at the situation away.

“Oh no!” Cecil’s hands flew to their face and clasped their cheeks. “Poor Diavolo isn’t going to get even a cursory ‘happy Father’s Day!’ I have to go tell him!”

“Why even bother, he’s mean.” Luke said, rolling his eyes. “He probably wouldn’t even plan to say anything to Diavolo if he knew…”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Lukey-Pookey.” Tulsi said with a pinch of one of Luke’s cheeks. “Dare looooooovvvvves Dia. Just give him some time. He’ll figure it out, right Father?”

“We can hope,” Barbatos said with a smile, “we can hope.”

—————————

Lucifer was working in his office at RAD, as usual. The room was significantly less comfortable and quiet than his office at home, and completely unsupplied with Lucifer’s Demonus collection, but he managed to muscle through it.

As his hand glided over the papers, he briefly pondered the date of one of the sheets. June 18th…

A light scoff left Lucifer’s lips as he remembered Venus’ seeming lack of memory of the date. Ugh, was he going to have to quote Mulan again when Venus rushed in for comfort about forgetting the day again?

The door to Lucifer office swung open, and speak of the half demon and they shall appear, Venus stood proudly at the entrance, a present bag in hand.

“Father~, father~, faaaaatherrrrrr~,” Venus said in a sing-song voice as they practically slid towards his desk. “I didn’t forget this year~.”

The corners of Lucifer’s mouth twitched up into a half-smile as he took the bag from Venus, a partly exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “Aren’t I a lucky demon?”

“Damn right you are~,”

“Having a child who remembers a date that repeats every year for once.”

“Just open the present old man~,”

They were really keeping up the singing, huh? No matter, Lucifer opened up the bag and pulled out a… piece of printer paper. It was awfully wrinkled, and also blank. The demon of Pride raised an eyebrow and held up the blank piece of paper.

“What’s this supposed to mean?”

“Oh shit, that was the result of a paper jaaam~, oh fuck it.” Venus dropped the singing bit and pushed their glasses up the bridge of their nose. “We’re going on that factory tour you wanted to do, tomorrow. Diavolo and Darius are coming too. Not that Dare knows, he’d put up a stink.”

Lucifer chuckled softly and expertly tossed the blank, wrinkled printer paper into his trash can. “Thank you very much, Venus. I appreciate it.”

“Ah!” Venus’ face noticeably brightened as they finger gunned Lucifer’s face. “That slight tension in your cheeks, that little raise of your eyebrow, you’re mega-happy right now~!”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps pershmaps! I knocked it out of the park!” Venus mimed swinging a baseball bat as they turned and skipped out of the room. “Move it motherfuckers! I won Father’s Day!”

“LANGUAGE!”

——————

Percy fumbled with the box in their hands, the sloppily wrapped gift-box was weirdly bulky and heavy for what was inside. The half demon knocked on their father’s door, an excited smile spreading across his face with every thump against the wood.

“Daaaaaad! It’s meeeee!”

“What’s the password?”

Oof, ice cold… undeterred, Percy smiled and began to recite the latest iteration of his father’s passwords. “The Lord of Shadows wished upon a star,”

“That one day his enemies would leave his land,”

“And the star that came crashing from the heavens was his hero,”

The door opened, and Percy stepped into the messy blue tinted room. “Hi dad! Hi Henry 2.0!”

Henry 2.0 did not reply. He was a fish.

“What is it, Percy?” Levi said, taking off his headphones and pausing his game. “I’m in the middle of-“

“I got you something!” Percy said as he plopped down on the beanbag chair next to his dad, a beaming smile on his face. He pushed the box forward into Levi’s arms. “Happy day celebrating people who aren’t virgins!”

“WHAT?!” Levi shrieked as he toppled backwards out of his beanbag chair and onto the chip-bag and Gatorade covered floor.

“What?” Percy tilted their head and blinked a few times. “It’s what Ash calls it.”

“It’s… it’s…” Levi’s hands scrambled for his DDD, and after some frantic tapping, he shoved the screen into Percy’s face. “Father’s day! Not… that!”

“Oh.” Percy said, then shrugged and pushed the box forward again. “Open your present!”

Levi hesitantly took the box and tore off the wrapping paper, then squinted as he tried to see the pictures on the box in such abysmal lighting.

“Should I turn on the lights?” Percy asked, getting up to do just that.

“No!” Levi snapped. “Do you want to blind me, Percy?”

“N-no, but Lucifer says it’s not healthy to only have the aquarium lights and the lights of your electronics in your room…”

“Mmm…” Levi clearly wasn’t paying attention, he held the box up, and it caught the perfect light from the aquarium, and the Avatar of Envy shrieked in delight. “CATBOY HEADPHONES! The real deal, too!”

“Yeah! Do you like them?!”

“Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!” Levi repeated over and over as he tore open the box and placed the headphones on his head, the blue cat ears snapped upright, and began to twitch.

“They connect to your real emotions! Just like a real cat’s ears!”

“HSJSMREMSJNDRNSNSNSNSNDSLSKDNEKS-“

“How’d you make that sound in real-“

Percy was cut off by Levi picking them up and crushing them into a hug. “I love them so so much! And they’re the real high quality ones too! Thank you, Percy!”

“Eheh!” Percy’s adorable dimpled smile could have lit up the room. “Great! I knew it would make for a great Not-a-Virgin Day gift!”

“Don’t call it that!”

———————

“Pop, pop, popcorn!” Ash slid into their father’s room with barely even a knock, causing Mammon, who was hunched over his pool table trying to take a shot, to flub his technique.

“Damn it, kid! Can’t ya knock?!”

“Nope!” Ash said with a cheeky grin, they grabbed one of the pool cues that were lying scattered on the ground and twirled it in their free hand. “Up for a game, old man?”

“Old?!” Mammon snapped, levelling the pool cue at Ash like he was holding a sword. “I’ll show you old-”

Ash laughed as they held up their cue to block the downward swing of Mammon’s. The battle was wonky and ridiculous as the two stepped over and around old cups of ramen, dirty laundry, and wrinkled up rescripts while whacking their pool cues against each other.

“I don’t think this is how pool is played!” Ash said, shifting his weight so the plastic bag with Mammon’s present inside was clearly visible, but juuuuuust out of reach.

“Oi! What’s in there?”

“You’ll have to kill me for it!”

“HAH!” Mammon threw back his head and rolled his eyes, his tuft of white hair was an absolute mess from the fight and was ever so slightly brushing against his eyelids. “I’ve fought with pirates, Ash, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna- OW!”

Ash swung their pool cue down on Mammon’s knuckles, causing him to drop his cue right to the ground.

“Gotcha! Guess you really are an old man!”

“Ah shaddup…” Mammon said with a light tint of redness to his cheeks.

“I’m feelin’ all generous today,” Ash held out the plastic bag. “For you, old man.”

Mammon greedily snatched up the bag, and pulled out a box of… dice. Nice looking gold dice, but just dice.

“Huh,” A smirk appeared on Mammon’s face as he inspected the box. “Nice, kiddo.”

“You don’t think those are just plain old dice, do you?” Ash snickered. “What do you take me for?”

“Eh? What do ya mean?”

Ash snatched the box out of Mammon’s hand and shook it, the dice inside rattled. “These are special dice. You can put some of your magic into them, and they’ll land on whatever numbers you’re thinkin’ of. Perfect for throwin’ off people who think you’re cheating!”

Mammon stood still with his eyes as wide as quarters, and Ash felt their stomach drop into their gut. “D-do you not like-“

“I FUCKIN’ LOVE IT!” Mammon suddenly snatched the box back with one and and then hooked an arm under Ash’s shoulder blades and swept them up into a spin. “EVEN BETTER THAN LAST YEAR’S GIFT!”

“Aw what?” Ash said after sighing in relief. “Didn’t like last year’s sunglasses?”

“Oh screw off, ya know I love those.”

“Tsk, anyway,” Ash straightened up their shirt after they were set down and fixed their hair, pushing it back into its normal slicked-back appearance. “Happy Not-A-Virgin day, Pops.”

“Wait what-”

———————

Beel grit his teeth and pulled himself up once again, with just one arm. Ever muscle from his deltoids down to his forearms burned from the strain, but he was strong enough to push through and keep going.

“You’re doing great, dad.”

“Faster! Faster!”

The two little ankle weights, Pepper and Cane, were latched onto Beel’s legs and were shouting out encouragements and orders, much to the Avatar of Gluttony’s appreciation.

“Sorry Cane,” Beel grunted as he pulled himself up again, relieving his right arm of the strain and beginning to do pull-ups with his left. “Can’t really move any faster than this right now.”

“Aw man…”

“I still think you’re doing good, dad.”

“Thanks Pepper.”

Eventually, after a few more pull-ups, Beel eventually let go, and began to knead at his exhausted muscles.

The twins unlatched from Beel’s legs and looked up at him with a level of reverence the demon hadn’t seen from even his most devoted fans and followers. And Beel was the centre demon of actual cults.

“How do you feel?”

“Feel buffer? Feel stronger?!”

Beel let his hands rest on either twin’s head and ruffled their hair. “I feel like my arms are jelly.”

The demon’s stomach suddenly growled, which caused two more smaller growls to echo from the twins.

“Oh! Right!” Cane snapped their fingers and began to tug Beel out of the RAD gym and into the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“We made a Father’s Day feast for you in the cafeteria.” Pepper said, calm as ever as they took their father’s other hand and also lightly tugged him forward.

“Mmmmm,” Beel was already drooling. “What’s in this feast? Hellfire roasted pulled pork? Hellmato soup? Mmmmm…”

“You’ll see~!” Cane said with a conspiracy laden grin.

The twins threw open the doors of the cafeteria, and Beel’s jaw dropped.

Cheeseburgers… as far as the eye could see… perfect and still steaming, the heavenly smell entering the Avatar of Gluttony’s nostrils and nearly making him pass out and ascend right back to the Celestial Realm…

“D-dad?” Pepper’s voice piped up.

“Come on! Snap out of it!” Cane lightly slapped Beel’s hand a few times, trying to break him out of his stupor. “I think we broke ‘im, Pep.”

“You two…” Beel said, slowly stepping forward. “This is… amazing!”

Beel grabbed both twins by the hand, soreness in his arms forgotten, and an absolutely massive purr began to rumble in his chest. “Let’s eat together!”

———————

Surrounded in a plane of comfort unknown to most humans, Arien slept soundly and peacefully, without a care in the world. The young half demon of sloth was snoozing away in a bed piled high with the most high quality of pillows and blankets, with a humidifier going strong and a fan for white noise. All was perfect…

Until they suddenly felt an extra weight on their napping spot.

The half demon’s eyes snapped open, not that they could see much through the mountain of pillows and blankets they had over them. They gave the air a few cursory sniffs, then frowned.

“What do you want, You old bat?”

“Where’s my Father’s Day present, offspring of mine?” Belphie’s soft and sleepy voice asked, as almost always, there was a twinge of mischief to his tone.

Arien felt Belphegor stretch like a cat from… somewhere on the bed. He couldn’t exactly tell through all the blankets and pillows.

“You’re getting nothing and liking it.” Arien snapped, sleepily rubbing at his eyes. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

“Tsk, little brat.” A pillow thwacked Arien right in the face. “Show some respect.”

“No.”

“Well then, I guess I’m just going to have to take a present myself then.”

“Eh- hey!”

Arien found themselves flipped onto their back and staring up at Belphegor, who had a borderline devious smirk on his face.

“What the hell do you- HEY! PFFFFFF- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA-”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Belphie asked, tilting his head as he mercilessly tickled Arien. “What the hell you do think you’re doing? Not giving me anything for Father’s Day?”

“Screw- HA- OFF!”

“Hold on just a minute,” Belphie said with a mischievous smirk. “You set all this up? This entire little pillow Fort, all for yourself?”

“YEAH! Now get- HAHAHAHA-”

Dodging a few flailing kicks, Belphie kept up the pressure. “Really now? It seems way too big for just one person. It could fit four more, even. Planning on inviting me, Beel, and Cane and Pepper?”

“N-NO!” Arien lied through almost painful fits of laughter, all the while kicking and flailing every which way.

“Huh…” Belphie said with a shrug. “If it’s not for me, then, I’m making it for me.”

The Avatar of Sloth suddenly stopped his onslaught of tickles, flopped to Arien’s right, and trapped them in a cuddle-cage.

“Night, brat. Happy Father’s Day to me.”

“Hmph…” Arien wrinkled their nose, but shifted over slightly to get comfortable and let their eyes flutter shut. “Night, old man.”

———————

“Screw off, Darius.”

“Just tell me what day it is, Lyssa!” Darius snapped as he trailed after the half demon of wrath. The girl was dressed in a black leather jacket, a white tee shirt, a pink tutu, and black and green striped knee socks, safe to say, her fashion sense was as bad as her father’s.

“I have stuff to do, dammit!” Lyssa hissed back, dropping a giant, brown, cardboard box on the dining room table, and taking out various pieces of gold metal work, and what looked like scale models of the planets.

“Is it some kinda… space day..?” Darius asked, squinting as Lyssa’s nimble fingers began twisting and snapping pieces of the model planetary system together with a level of expertise that the prince couldn’t help but marvel at.

Lyssa spared the time to glare up at Darius, her cartoon cat hair pins that helped her black scrunchies hold her long blonde pigtails in place seemed to be glaring at him too. “Are you perhaps, an idiot?”

“HEY!” Darius was prepared to smack a hand down on the table and admonish the kid, but held back. This was Lyssa, and If Darius made her upset or triggered her in any way, he’d never forgive himself… mainly because Satan would have committed regicide and tore him limb from limb. “Just… tell me what the fuck is going-”

“Father!” Lyssa suddenly sprung from her feet, the model put together in an expert amount of time. Satan had walked into the dining hall and was quickly tackled into a hug by Lyssa. “I made something for you! Happy Father’s Day!”

“FATHER’S WHAT NOW?!” Darius shouted, bursting out of his seat with his eyes wider than saucers. “FUCK I GOTTA GO!”

Satan and Lyssa both watched, completely bewildered as Darius suddenly bolted for the exit.

“What was his problem?” Satan asked, gently setting Lyssa down on the floor.

“No clue.” Lyssa shrugged. “But look what I made you!”

Satan allowed himself to be tugged to the dining room table where the model sat, each planet was expertly crafted and set to scale, they all gently rotated around the sun, all the parts moving in harmony.

“You… made this?” Satan asked, staring down at the little contraption before him.

“Y-yeah…” Lyssa said, suddenly beginning to twiddle her thumbs. “I mean… you gave me that book on outer space a while back, and I really liked it, I just wanted to show that your money didn’t go to waste on me or any-“

“Lyssa, Lyssa,” Satan slowly raised his hands to quiet the child, then gently rested one on her shoulder, careful to make sure each of his movements were perfectly choreographed so Lyssa could see what was going to happen. “I love it. Did you make it all by yourself?”

The half demon seemed to visibly deflate with relief, then nodded. “I painted the planets, and using the parts of an old metal chandelier that I found in the trash outside of RAD, I just had to fit everything together and make it move. I used this old motor from a toy robot that Luke said I could use, and attached it to the bottom, here.”

Lyssa slowly pointed out every little connecting piece and part of her little contraption, and Satan hung onto every word. He was sure to interject with compliments every now and then. He had a very clever child after all, and he needed to make sure that she knew it too.

“So um… yeah…” Lyssa scuffed her feet on the dining room carpet. “Happy Father’s Day, dad…”

“Thank you, Lyssa,” Satan, gentle as a kitten, pulled Lyssa in for a hug. “What do you say we go to the planetarium sometime and you can show me what else you’ve learned?”

————————

“Aaaaah,” Asmo sighed in contentment as Solomon filed his nails. “This is the life…”

“Yep, definitely.” Cecil said with a tense grin as Circe sat across from them, her eyes narrowed as she aggressively filed Cecil’s index fingernail down to a useless nub. “The life for sure…”

“Come on Circe,” Solomon chided. “Be gentle.”

“I am.” Circe said, as monotone as ever. “I thought Father’s Day was just supposed to be between you and me.”

“We’re a happy little family though, aren’t we?” Asmo cooed, leaning over and pinching Circe’s cheek with his free hand.

“Sure.” The girl replied. She acted a lot older, and a lot more bitter than most ten year olds… Cecil thought to themselves.

“So about that crazy weather we’ve been havin-”

“CECIL!”

The door to Asmo’s room was practically kicked open by Darius, who stood wide eyed and frantic at the door.

“Oh! Darius! I was looking for you earlier but I couldn’t-“

“CRAM IT! WHAT DO YOU GET SOMEONE FOR FATHER’S DAY?!”

“Uhhh…” Cecil pursed their lips and shrugged. “Spa day..?”

“Fuuuuu…” Darius growled. “What’d the chihuahua get Simeon?!”

“Pastries I think…” Cecil murmured, suddenly flinching when Circe began to sloppily apply pink nail polish to… seemingly everywhere except Cecil’s nails.

“You don’t know for sure?! Solomon! You live with them! What happened?!”

“I’m not sure either to be honest.” Solomon said with a calm shrug of his shoulders. “Before I left, Luke was being bathed with holy light, and I didn’t really want to talk to the old man upstairs, so I let him be.”

“Fine! Food it is then!” Darius then turn tail and booked it down the hall.

“So uh…” Cecil nervously giggled. “Happy Father’s Day..?”

“Happy Father’s Day!” Asmo and Solomon repeated.

“Yeah yeah… happy…” Circe chimed in with gritted teeth.

————————

After grabbing a cupcake at Madame Scream’s and running at top speed back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, Darius kicked off his shoes and into the throne room, intent on getting to his father’s office before it was too late.

“Ah, young lord Darius-“

“DAMN IT BARBATOS!” Darius skidded to a halt and pointed an accusatory finger at the butler. “You didn’t tell me it was Father’s Day!”

“I didn’t realize that was in my job description.” Barbatos said with a shrug.

“JUST- JUST- UGH!” Darius turned and sprinted towards the hallway.

“Darius, watch-!”

The prince slammed into someone, hard, and sent them both rolling down the hall, until Darius landed directly on top of both them… and the cupcake box…

Venus, now covered in cake and whipped cream, wiped the gunk off their glasses and glared up at their step-brother. “Good evening to you too, bitch.”

“No, no no no no no no!” Darius pushed himself up st the floor and opened up the crushed cupcake box… it was absolutely obliterated. “DAAAAAAAGGGHHH!”

“What the hell’s your damage Darius?!” Venus snapped. The prince glared at them, then reached up quick as a flash and yanked them upwards by the front , slamming them against the wall.

“You idiot!” Darius shouted, ignoring the multitude of kicks that were getting levelled at his gut. “That was for my father!”

“How’s that my fault that you went and splattered the cupcake everywhere because you weren’t watching where you were going?!”

“I fear I may have let my pettiness blind me to what actually matters, how unbecoming of me…” Barbatos said as he gently pulled Darius off of Venus, allowing the half demon of Pride to drop back onto the safety of the ground. “My apologies, Lord Darius, but I recommend going to your father and explaining the situation rather than fighting with Venus.”

Darius glared up at Barbatos, then stomped off down the hall to do just that.

The door to Diavolo’s office was imposing as ever. Darius briefly wondered if this was what it was like for children who went to a normal school, he wondered if they ever felt this numbing nervousness when going to talk to the principal, or a teacher they desperately didn’t want to make angry…

That was all the life experience Darius had, really. Just wondering. Having his eyes glued to the television and wondering if that was what the real world was like…

Before Darius could even properly knock, the door swung open to reveal Diavolo, who looked just as startled as his son.

“Darius!” Diavolo reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair, but stopped short when he noticed he was still covered in cupcake residue. “What… happened?”

“Cupcake… Father’s Day gift… I’m sorry…”

“What on earth are you sorry for?” Diavolo asked, kneeling down to Darius’ level as the boy hung his head in shame.

“I forgot about Father’s Day… and it was my first one here… with you… I messed up your present and spent all day running around like an idiot… I’m so so sorry, father…”

The moment the last words left Darius’ lips, he was crushed into a hug so quickly it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m not angry, Darius, not even a little.” Diavolo pulled back, and gave Darius a winning smile. “The greatest gift you could possibly give me, is being here, and being my son.”

“Aw… father…” To his own horror, Darius felt himself get choked up.

“Are we just going to ignore that Diavolo basically quoted Mulan?”

Both Diavolo and Darius snapped their heads towards the source of the sound, where Venus, Lucifer, Tulsi, and Barbatos stood at the end of the hallway.

“Mulan? What’s that? I haven’t seen that.” Diavolo asked, tilting his head slightly.

“And,” Venus continued. “Are we just going to ignore that this is literally a repeat of what happened with me and my dad on a different Father’s Day?! The cupcake got smashed and everything!”

“Oh hush now, Venus.” Lucifer chided. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Lucifer then looked expectantly at Darius, who raised an eyebrow.

“What? I don’t recall it being Stepfather’s Day.”

“Okay you little-”

“Why don’t you hush now too, Lucifer.” Barbatos offered.

“Yeah, listen to my dad.” Tulsi added with a sleepy smirk.

Diavolo abruptly stood up, his eyes flashing in that way they always did when he had a bright idea. “Why don’t we all watch that Mulan thing you all were talking about, hm? A lovely family activity to end off a family based day!”

“I’m always down for a movie.” Tulsi said with a shrug.

“Can we have popcorn?” Venus asked, already bouncing on their feet.

“I’ll find the movie.” Barbatos said, lightly beginning to brush past everyone, only for everyone’s actions to be halted by Lucifer clearing his throat.

“You know, I never did ask, but why are three of you covered in cake?”

••••••••••••••••••

Author’s note

…all hail the queen of procrastination.

That’s all I have to say.