Rating Rune Factory Wedding Dresses (Because I have some opinions)
Rune Factory (1)
10/10
I honestly think this dress is top tier in terms of design. The snowy white with pops of color, the scalloped flowy sleeves, the barely exposed shoulders, that lovely subtle headdress and veil, it's all so pretty and elegant to me. I believe it suits all the girls in RF1 beautifully, though I do feel like Tabatha (center) and Rosetta (right) are standouts~
Rune Factory 2
6/10
It's a very lovely design overall though I do think it creates a bit of an odd silhouette. There are still many elements to appreciate, like the lacey detailed edges and the bold but uncommon use of green. I also give them bonus points for containing a dress sprite of he/him character Ray (right) in the game's data (Trans RF character confirmed?) I think the dress best suits curvier girls like Yue (left) but it's also a real treat to finally see Dorothy's (center) lovely eyes~
Rune Factory Frontier
2/10
This dress really doesn't do it for me. I can tell they were going for more of a ceremonial robes vibe rather than a traditional wedding dress and from a distance it almost works but the outfit up close is just bulky and unflattering. Maybe if they fixed the headdress or gave the robe some really pretty accents or beading it could work, but as it is, it's probably the last thing I'd wanna be virtually married in. The one thing I do like is that it gives most of the girls a unique updo for their wedding day.
Rune Factory 3/RF3 Special
3/10
This used to be my least favorite RF wedding dress before that honor went to Frontier. The more I look at it, the more I realize that most of my disdain lies with the headdress and not the dress itself. The actual dress is fine, in fact there are some parts I really like, the sheer material on the upper arms for one, or the shawl, I just don't think it particularly looks like a wedding dress. That headdress though...oh boy, it looks like someone just glued a bunch of random sh*t they found to a headband and called it a day. It's just very cluttered and doesn't scream 'wedding' at all. If I have to pick a stand out it would probably be Raven (center) since her pose and hair color hide many of the design fails. Also Daria (right) because it seems like the sort of chaotic outfit she, herself would design.
Rune Factory Tides of Destiny/Oceans
5/10
This game didn't get the usual character portraits so the images aren't great, but my opinion on these dresses was very so-so, I definitely wouldn't call them ugly, and I do love the colors and rare use of a real bouquet, they just didn't seem to stand out all that much. Especially in terms of RF costumes. They seem a little bulky on the models but I honestly think they could have fixed that by just having character portraits. Not bad. Not great. Just middle of the road dresses. As standouts I'd pick Sonja and Electra (left and center). Their hair colors complement the dress and Electra is already suited to the poofy ballgown look anyway.
Rune Factory 4/RF4 Special
8/10
RF4's dress has a very ethereal, almost fairy-like look to it, which I personally find very gorgeous. It's pretty busy like many of the previous dresses, but unlike those, I feel like the elements here actually work together. The long flowy veil and blue rose accents are just beautiful, as is the detailed corset and neckpiece making up the torso. I'm not personally a huge fan of the flower petal looking design on the hips, but it does fit well with the whole aesthetic. As for standouts, It looks tailor made for Frey (left), but I definitely think taller, long haired girls like Dolce and Margaret (center and right) look amazing in it as well.
Rune Factory 5
9/10
I think this dress is beautiful as a whole, a bit more traditional and subdued than previous wedding outfits but personally I love it. The silhouette is flattering on everyone and the color scheme is unique among the other dresses by sticking with only warmer colors as opposed to the cool blues and greens of past games. I also love how the tint of the roses changes slightly depending on who's wearing the dress. All in all it reminds me a lot of the subtle elegance of RF1's dress and that makes it a win for me. For standouts I think Fukka's (center) complexion and hair go beautifully with the dresses colors. Ludmilla (right) also looks divine with the rosy aesthetic~
What's your favorite wedding look from the RF series? Who wore it best? Comment or tag if you feel like dishing some opinions of your own (Or just answer my poll ;)
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SET NINE - ROUND TWO - MATCH TWO
"De sterrennacht (The Starry Night)" (1889 - Vincent van Gogh) / "Headdress – Shadae" (2019 - Dana Claxton)
DER STERRENNACHT (THE STARRY NIGHT): It’s a cliche, but for good reason
The first day I saw this painting was in Kindergarten, when all three kindergarten classes had art together and the teacher tacked this painting onto the white board and said god knows what. I wasn’t listening. The moment this painting was in front of me it was all I could think about.
I feel alone, I feel connected, I feel that quiet hush that only comes from being awake and alone at 3 am staring at the stars. It feels like drifting through the cosmos and seeing your tiny town’s beauty from all new angles. Like tumbling through the ether into a world I’ll never belong to. It makes me want to break every rule my doctor ever gave me to drive down a dirt road by myself and stay up all night staring at the stars. It makes me want to take someone with me.
I feel lost. I feel found.
A Starry Night Sky fucks me up. (@andtherewillalwaysbethestars)
HEADDRESS – SHADAE: It's the literal weight of tradition resting on your shoulders combined with the many identities you hold. The person in the photo is wearing things that belong to herself, her husband, and her culture, and I just love the way it all comes together. (mod m)
("De sterrennacht (The Starry Night)" is a famous oil on canvas piece by Dutch artist Vincent van Gogh. The piece is 73.7 cm × 92.1 cm (29.01 in × 36.26 in), and is owned by the Museum of Modern Art, but is currently on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
"Headdress – Shadae" is one of a series of photographs done by Hunkpapa Lakota artist Dana Claxton of First Nations womens' collections. This piece specifically is described as "Shadae mixes it up with hip-hop baseball caps, a Coast Salish woven cedar hat, and her husband’s pow wow/peyote fans".)
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GOTD: BRD
((A closer look at what Ether found himself doing once stuck in the First. Private calls for private “dances”. One thing he’s definitely proud of is his courage to admit he loves the work.))
“I’ve got the feeling that makes me high and I want it all.”
—☠️—🥀——————✨——————🥀—☠️—
THE GLAM
Head: Thavnairan Headdress
Body: Thavnairan Bustier
Hands: Claws of the Beast
Legs: Rathalos Coil [F]
Feet: Choral Sandals
Ears: Platinum Earrings of Fending
Wrists: Inferno Bangle of Aiming
Fingers: Woad Skywarrior’s Ring, Augmented Ironworks Ring of Aiming
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Loved the colors of this recent custom Ethereal Apiary headpiece- deep to light purples and a dusting of gold make it feel like an enchanted vineyard. 🍇✨💜 . . . #headpiece #headdress #idolatre #idolatreclothing #fantasyfashion #renfaire #costume #cosplay #hornedheadpiece #hornedheaddress #witch #maenad https://www.instagram.com/p/Cc8k8s6hdgd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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tilly losch’s wedding ensemble in ‘the miracle’ from oliver messel’s ‘stage design and costumes’, published 1933.
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ming xi. This look is just ethereal, especially the lovely celestial headdress, and her makeup is wonderful.
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Turning Page
⋇✦ Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader
⋇✦ Genre: fluff; one shot
⋇✦ Synopsis: Naruto never would have dreamed that he would get this sort of happiness, but there you are
⋇✦ CW: none
⋇✦ Length: 1.4k+
⋇✦ Inspiration: Turning Page by Sleeping at Last + @naooseimaiss request
I’ve waited a hundred years
I’d wait a million more for you
Had Naruto ever expected it? Had he ever even dared to dream about a day like this?
No. No he hadn’t.
Not in Naruto’s wildest dreams would he have let himself believe that someone would love him the way that you did. Someone who would support him, stand by his side through thick and thin. Through every win and especially every failure, every step of Naruto’s journey since he met you, you had been by his side, unwavering.
If I had only felt the warmth within your touch
If I had only seen how you smile when you blush
Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough
I would have known what I was living for all along
And Naruto loved you. He loved you so much more than he knew was possible. Naruto didn’t know just how boundless his love really was until he gave you his heart. Holding you for the first time was the greatest pleasure he had ever experienced. Having your smile aimed in his direction lit a fire in him that even the harshest rainstorms couldn’t put out.
He wished he could go back and tell himself, just whisper the words into his own ear those nights as a child he’d spent alone and lonely.
She’s coming. Don’t worry. I know it hurts now, but once she’s here, you’ll see. Every hurt, every pain, every harsh look. Your strangeness, your curse, your always feeling like an outsider. It all existed so you could belong here, with her. It’s all worth it.
The pain you’re feeling can’t compare to the joy that is coming.
What I’ve been living for
Naruto heard once that true love isn’t being willing to die for a person; it’s about who you would live for.
Every day for the rest of his life, Naruto would live for you.
Your love is my turning page
Where only the sweetest words remain
“It won’t go down!” Naruto complained, running a comb through his hair again and again. “I put so much gel on it! Why won’t it stay in place.” He threw the comb with a frustrated shout, observing himself in the mirror.
He’d done his best to comb his hair down into something presentable, but those unruly spikes wouldn’t stay all the way down. “I look like a mess! This is the best day of my life and I look like a mess!”
A light chuckle made him turn. Iruka was smiling at him from the couch, shaking his head. “‘Snot funny, Iruka-Sensei!” Naruto whined, crossing his arms.
Iruka got up, walking over to Naruto, still laughing softly as he stood in front of the blond, hands placed on his shoulders. “What!?” Naruto demanded as he glowered at his old sensei, bottom lip protruding out in a pout.
“It’s just…” Iruka stopped, shaking his head as he felt his throat tightening. “It’s just… I’m so proud of you, Naruto.”
Naruto stopped, taken off guard by the comment. He stared at Iruka, wide eyed before he laughed, giving that close-eyed, big grin he was known for.
“I never thought I’d be one of the people standing by you at your wedding, Naruto. It’s an honor. Truly.” He pulled the boy who was no longer a boy, but a man, into his arms. How long ago had it been that Naruto was just a kid, starved of love and attention, so small he’d barely come up to Iruka’s chest?
You hadn’t just been an answer to Naruto’s prayers, but Iruka’s as well.
Every touch is a cursive line
Every touch is a redefining page
“Quit bouncing, usuratonkachi” Sasuke whispered at Naruto’s side, but there was a lightness to his tone. He’d seen a lot of emotion in the blond over the years. He always thought that the day Naruto had become Hokage was the happiest day of Naruto’s life, but even that day didn’t compare to the utter joy that was on Naruto’s face now.
Naruto only grinned at Sasuke. It was time. Any moment now, you would appear, walking down that aisle wearing your uchikake, and Naruto knew you would look like an angel. He’d asked you not to wear the headdress brides usually did. He didn’t want to ‘hide your horns.’ He didn’t want submission from you.
You were Naruto’s partner; his better half. He loved every single part of your large and wild heart.
His heart was already leaping out of his chest; he didn’t think he would be able to contain himself once he saw you.
I surrender who I've been for who you are
For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart
And there you were. You appeared like a vision, ethereal and effervescent as you glided towards him. Naruto’s breath caught in his lungs. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really breathed before this moment, had never really lived until now.
Naruto was in awe of your beauty. His eyes were locked on yours, glistening with happiness and adoration.
He still couldn’t believe it. That you would look at him that way.
Naruto wanted to stare at you forever, wanted to exist always here, in this moment, but he had to close his eyes. He wasn’t sure when he started crying, but the tears were there, overflowing and blinding them. He smiled as he wiped them from his eyes.
He heard a familiar giggle and when he opened them, you were there, reflecting that same love and adoration.
He couldn’t help it, couldn’t wait.
Naruto kissed you fiercely, holding you close to him like he was afraid you would disappear at any moment. You returned the kiss with the same intensity, arms locking around his neck as you drank him in.
A cleared throat finally broke you too away as you both giggled, eyes never leaving each others.
“If you’d like to begin…” Kakashi laughed.
If I had only felt how it feels to be yours
Well, I would have known what I've been living for all along
What I've been living for
It was perfect. Every moment. You and Naruto had decided to forgo a lot of the wedding traditions, but you kept the nuptial cups. Naruto had suggested it because he wanted to surprise Iruka; have him be his parent that drinks from the cup like your parents would and seals the family together.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
“I love every piece of you, Naruto. Every scratch, every scar. From the demon inside of you to the fire that burns around you. I always always meant to be here, to love you. And I will. Always and forever. Thank you for choosing me. I will never stop choosing you.”
“My whole life, I felt lost. Confused, and empty. And then I found people who were important to me, people that I had to care for and fight for. And I was happy; but sometimes, I still felt so lost and so lonely, and I never understood, because I was happier than ever. And then you appeared. It was like suddenly, the world made sense. Everything just suddenly fell into place. I was lost, and you found me. You taught me that I couldn’t just love others, but that I could also love myself; something I never realized. Thank you for changing my life. Thank you for teaching me things I never knew, and for being my best friend. Thank you for always finding me.”
“I’ll always find you, Naruto. In every world, in every lifetime. If I have to search a million life times, I will find you again.”
Though we're tethered to the story we must tell
When I saw you, well I knew we'd tell it well
With a whisper, we will tame the vicious seas
Like a feather, bringing kingdoms to their knees
It was the first day of the rest of your life. You had read something once: “To love someone was not what she had expected. It was like falling from somewhere high up and breaking in half, and only one person having the secret to the puzzle of putting her back together.”
You’d read that to Naruto, and he had smiled, because it was true. It did feel like that, and yet, it had never hurt. Because as soon as he had fallen, you’d been there, catching him and putting together all his pieces, just like he’d done for you.
There was something else.
“I wouldn't be surprised if that is the way things go after all - that all things end happy.”
You smiled as you kissed Naruto once more. For the first time in your life, thanks to the number one, hyperactive, knuckleheaded ninja, it was something you could believe.
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When it all falls down
Guys! I have 69 followers and I couldn’t be happier! Here’s the next chapter of ‘When it all falls down’ and I hope you enjoy it! There are some inspiration links to things I’ve described if you need visual images
Ao3
Story Masterlist
———————————
CHAPTER ONE: Everything I never wanted
The ballroom was lit with torches and shimmering crystal chandeliers. A buffet table lined one wall and the other held a stage with an orchestra. The doors were wide open but only a select few were invited. Those that chose to dance did so with ridged backs, like an invisible knife would stab them at a single misstep. Nobles gathered at tables conversing, smiles plastered onto their painted faces.
Guards dressed in dark navy and dyed leather lined each window and entry. They stood, watching the crowd, surrounding them, prepared and ready. It was dark out, the glass panes showed the opaque inky night.
“The king has yet to arrive to his own party.”
The man next to her snapped his head in her directions, eyes narrowing and his goblet brought up to his pursed lips for a sip. Swallowing, he cleared his throat, “You of all people should know that the king is dead.”
She turned away from the dazzling reception and sent him a smirk. “And you should know that I don’t believe lies.”
Before he could reply, two hands clasped his and the bride’s shoulders, his mothers head appeared between them. “Go dance!” She hissed, pushing them towards the stiffly dancing nobles.
Damian looked at Marinette who shrugged. As husband and wife they walked arm-in-arm to the dance floor, guests scrambled out of their way, an empty space was left for the couple. The two separated and turned to face each other with a bow. Mari picked up her skirts as she strutted, they both circled to their right slowly then to their left until they returned to their starting positions. Damian extended his hand and Marinette, with her free hand accepted it. The two closed the circle until they were standing palm to palm.
Now up close they could better view their partner in dance and life. The prince wore a black kurta pajama with a wrapped button neckline and gold embroidery. The kurta’s buttons were made of diamonds and it’s squared hemline stopped mid-thigh to reveal he wore white cotton pants underneath. His belt consisted of solid gold ovals, embedded with obsidian, opals and an emerald in each centre. A golden crown with another emerald rested on his forehead, it’s intricate moulding wrapped around his skull and the centre piece pointed downwards.
Marinette remembered her tutors teaching her about the Empire. The opals and obsidian represents a new era of the kingdom, it was the royal families signature colours. This was reinforced by their clothes only being at the extremes of the shade spectrum. And at birth each member is given a specific stone to represent their life and role within the kingdom. Lady Talia’s was Tiger’s Eye (quite fitting), and it seems that Damian was blessed with Emerald.
Marinette was dressed similarly to Damian. She wore her own familial colours, like Damian’s birth jewel, Marinette was given her own sigil. When she entered the order and rose through the rank, the elder guardians awarded her with the Ladybug mantle. Her wedding garb (along with all her other clothes) consisted of hues of red and black. Her cheongsam was sleeveless and it’s neck was high. At the nape of the neckline, similar to that of a cape, a translucent blue material stitched with shimmering silver threads trailed down her back. It fluttered as she moved, making her presence look ethereal and that of an Angel.
The main body of the dress was a deep red silk, that hugged her curves and the skirt slowly transitioned to black. The gradient was further detailed with small beads of sparkling black gemstones. It’s petticoat was made of the same translucent blue material and could be seen from a high slit. In the bodice of the dress there was another slit that went down her sternum, the skin of her chest peeking through on occasion.
Her waist length hair usually hung freely down her back unless she was in training, was now tied into a bun by multiple braids. Silver hairpins held the do together and they were inscribed with incantations of protection and luck. Although she was the Miraculous Order’s princess she didn’t wear the headdress they had given her, she felt as though she didn’t deserve it.
Two steps, two steps. Her skirts swished with movement, the noise of the clicking beads filled her ears. The two were the focus of the entire party, as it should be due to the fact that this was their wedding reception. The violins high pitched cry signified the climax of their dance, Damian held his arm out and spun her before drawing her back into his embrace. This dance, much like their marriage was nothing more than an obligation to their clans.
As the music died down, the young couple were ushered into their new living quarters. The room was moderately sized and minimalistic style of furnishing, coloured a deep blue with gold trimming. Other than the front door, there were 3 others leading out of the room. The first being next to a curtained window, it lead to a balcony with granite carved railings. The second lead to the bathroom and the third linked another smaller bed room to theirs. When the couple discovered the smaller room they were confused, but Lady Talia quickly provided an explanation.
The connected room was for their future heirs.
The newlyweds froze at the older woman’s declaration. They struggled to process the depth of her words. Oblivious to the awkward atmosphere she created she swept up her skirts and pranced out of the room, leaving two sets of eyes trailing her figure.
They distracted themselves by unpacking the trunks containing their belongings, neither had much. This was because of being constantly on the move (Marinette) or not being allowed to have materialistic pleasures (Damian). Blue eyes avoided green and vice versa. Once complete they prepared for slumber, but there was one issue to be addressed... the consummation of the marriage.
Tremors shook Damian’s hands at the realisation of what was expected of him. She saw his shaking form, the elders had always complimented her observant nature. He hid his distress poorly. “I can sleep in the other room if that would make you more comfortable my prince.” Her soft voice was sincere and free from any jest that it held from earlier this evening.
He looked towards her, his exterior hardening, protecting himself against this stranger. “No.” He gruffly replied, “I’ll take the other room.” A smaller room meant less places for enemies to hide. Yes the smaller room would fit him better.
He turned towards the door but her statement halted his movements. “I do not wish to tie you down with these bonds of matrimony. As long as no harm comes to the Order or I, you can do as you please.”
He made no move to turn, only shifting his head to stare back at the small figure that sat upon the too large bed. “Why are you offering this?”
She couldn’t provide him with anything more than a small smile, upon closer inspection sadness was clearly evident within her eyes. “If we cannot marry for love then we should at least marry someone we do not hate.” She said before laying underneath the blankets, her eyes fluttering shut as her head hit the pillow.
For a moment he stayed there, standing; but eventually he made his way into the conjoining room and bedding down for the night. If he had stayed living with his mother he probably would have deemed her as weak and insufficient to be his bride as soon as she joined him at the altar. But his time with his father and siblings had shattered that perspective. Her words repeated within his mind, ‘If we cannot marry for love then we should at least marry someone we do not hate.’ There surely was a hidden meaning but Damian was too exhausted from the day’s events to scrutinise. If that is her wish then he would gladly accommodate it.
Taglist:
@thesunniestdays @jayjayspixiepop @toodaloo-kangaroo
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Excerpts from the SyFy Wire & Film School Rejects interviews with Claire Anderson, the Emmy-nominated costume designer for Good Omens:
[ Film School Rejects - by Ciara Wardlow]
“I worked through it with gut reaction images. So, two guys. Two guys, kind of close, nearly in love, if you like,” she said. “I just went in and we had a really big, very open conversation about how you related to these people in the script and how we would make them real and plausible, but give them a fantasy element. Give them something otherworldly.”
While Anderson says that she ultimately took this approach with more or less all of the characters, mixing period and modern elements to give characters somewhat timeless, yet also somewhat fantastical “out of time” looks, in the early discussion stages it was all about Aziraphale and Crowley. For one thing, Sheen and Tennant were already cast, which was a major help in determining their looks. It took some time to settle on the duo’s main, contemporary looks, but once these were locked in they played a significant role in determining everything else they wore.
[...] Aziraphale maintains a look with significant nods to the late Victorian era. Crowley too, although he manages to put an edgier twist on things than his angelic contemporary. “We re-appropriate bits of period stuff so that it echoes. [Aziraphale and Crowley] echo one another in their visual identity with pieces from their past—where they’ve touched each other in the past perhaps, or bumped into each other.” Regarding how Crowley manages to keep more of a modern, cool vibe, Anderson gives David Tennant’s performance the lion’s share of the credit. “He’s a very nice man, but he’s very sexy. He brought all of that swagger, that rock star, snake-hipped sexiness, and we built on that.”
[ SyFy Wire - by Jennifer Vineyard]
GARDEN OF EDEN, 4004 B.C. - Anderson looked at everything from Pre-Raphaelite paintings to Al Pacino’s hippie clothes in Serpico to determine just the right flow for Aziraphale’s rough-hewn robe, which has gold embroidery on the shoulders and side. Aziraphale is also wearing a golden ring, which later becomes a signet ring stamped with wings in the Victorian era.
NOAH'S ARK, MESOPOTAMIA, 3004 B.C. - “As aged as I am, I wasn’t there,” Anderson says, laughing. “And there wasn’t any painting or documentation from this era. But what we do know is that tunics remained pretty simple, and the earlier shape would have served them well for many years.” Aziraphale’s robe becomes more streamlined, and he wears gold beads at the neck.
THE CRUCIFIXION, GOLGOTHA, 33 - By this time, both Aziraphale and Crawley — now Crowley — are wearing turbans and head wraps, which Anderson attributes to “a bit of vanity.” Plus the wrap helps Crowley conceal his snake-like eyes (it’s too soon for glasses). Aziraphale dons a soft leather coat over his tunic, while Crowley wears female attire of the region — an abaya.
ROME, 41 - Switching from tunics to togas was difficult, since togas contain 6 to 12 meters of fabric, which is a lot to carry around on camera. Anderson reduced the size by cutting the togas to fit for the character’s movements, and she gave each actor a thematic decorative pin to hold their togas together — Crowley a serpent and staff, Aziraphale a pair of wings (both courtesy of George Easton at Danegeld Historic Jewellery). Although history might argue that it’s too soon for sunglasses, Crowley starts to shield his eyes with a very small, eye-shaped lens. “It’s suggestive, rather than historically accurate,” Anderson says. And as a sign that Crowley is adapting to the humans around him, he also wears a silver laurel wreath.
ARTHURIAN ENGLAND, THE KINGDOM OF WESSEX, 537 - Anderson sent character descriptions and visuals for Aziraphale and Crowley to armor specialist FBFX, which sent a van to London full of pieces that could work for angelic and demonic armor. Instead of focusing on historical accuracy, Anderson looked for shapes and fit that suggested an ethereal — or snakelike — quality, once the pieces had been painted black or silver. For Crowley, she found a helmet that had a smaller face that could suggest a snakehead, and for Aziraphale, shoulder pieces that were slightly wing-like. To add to the wing effect, Anderson added a white fur caplet to Aziraphale’s armor. “It was terribly grand, but not very practical,” she says. “And the poor guys, it was murderously uncomfortable to stand around in that armor.”
GLOBE THEATRE, LONDON, 1601 - Crowley and Aziraphale catch an early version of Hamlet, looking more period-appropriate than ever thanks to the Globe’s vast archive of costumes. Aziraphale’s wardrobe, which includes a neck ruff edged with gold thread, has a metallic look with a hint of iridescent blue, which opens up his color palette. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a cleaner neckline and leather on his doublet, as well as fabrics that provide sheen and luster to suggest his snaky origins.
REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE, PARIS, 1793 - This is not a period to be dressed like an aristocrat, but Aziraphale couldn’t resist a lace collar, gold brocade and fitted jacket — which explains why he’s stuck in a prison cell (at least until Crowley intervenes). Crowley, more mindful of what revolutionaries would wear, dons a dark red jacket that’s almost as dark as his usual black. When Aziraphale miracle-changes his clothes, he wears the red cap of liberty. “It’s a soft beret that falls somewhere between a modern French beret and a pirate headdress,” Anderson notes.
ST. JAMES' PARK, LONDON, 1862 - This is the time period with which Aziraphale gets most comfortable, fashion-wise, and settles into a Victorian look with tartan flair. Anderson also bestowed some heavenly nods to his angelic nature — a feathery velvet top hat, a stopwatch with angel’s wings on the chain, and the signet ring. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a pair of long, elegantly cut trousers that we will see again in the 1960s. “The trousers repeat, which is basically what fashion does anyway,” Anderson says. “And it’s what the story does. There are notes backward and forwards.”
THE BLITZ, LONDON, 1941 - Aziraphale’s tartan necktie becomes a bow tie, and his penchant for wide lapels, a nod to his wings, continues, this time with a spear-point collar. Crowley, who comes to save Aziraphale once again, is dressed more formally, in a full double-breasted wool suit that must have been hard for David Tennant to wear in the South African heat. “The rest of the crew were in flip-flops and T-shirts, and David was in the suit, hat, and those big boots,” Anderson says, recalling the shoot. “He had to be very physically active in that scene, and yet David didn’t complain about the heat or anything. He’s amazing.”
SOHO, LONDON, 1967 - Crowley, as noted, continues to wear his Victorian trousers, which are right up to date, and which he pairs with a black paisley velvet jacket with contrasting lapels. His sunglasses now have more of a John Lennon vibe. Aziraphale, perhaps inadvertently, is also looking stylish with his Victorian topcoat, spear-point collar, and cravat (modified from his scarf in Victorian England). “You can’t avoid being affected by changing trends,” Anderson says. “However bookish you are, you still notice other people. And you would have had Rolling Stones and Beatles fans wearing that kind of thing. That was our argument for Aziraphale wearing his Victorian topcoat all the way through, and Michael Sheen loved it. He said it inspired him. And the cravat rang in the changes and helped us with the passage of time, rather than always having him wear a bow tie.
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Seshat
Egyptian goddess of knowledge, wisdom, writing, languages, learning, accounting, architecture, astronomy, astrology, building, mathematics, science, and surveying
Seshat (Sesha, Shai, Sesheta, or Safekh-Aubi) was one of the most important deities of Ancient Egypt. She had no temples (or at least none that have been discovered) but instead was widely worshipped through commonplace acts and daily rituals from the Early Dynastic Period to the last dynasty to rule Egypt. Her name means “she who scrivens” (she who is the scribe), and she is credited with the invention of hieroglyphics. She is a goddess of numerous talents and is great in knowledge; expertizing in many areas such as record-keeping, writing texts, assisting in the building of temples, analyzing stars and planets, calculating, and much more. Thus, Seshat is the patron goddess of scribes, librarians, architects, artists, teachers, scientists, and all seekers of knowledge, truth, and wisdom. Seshat is the daughter of Thoth (god of knowledge and wisdom) and Ma’at (goddess of truth and justice). Some versions of myth say that Seshat was also the consort of Thoth, or that she was his feminine counterpart.
One of the greatest roles of Seshat is that she is the one who looks after the Library of the Gods, and is the loving patroness of all libraries in existence. It was believed by Egyptians that every time an author wrote a story, book, or inscription, the divine scribe Seshat would write an etheric copy of this book in order to eternalize it in the Library of the Gods. She is the very deity who is claimed to have invented the Egyptian writing system, with her father Thoth being the one to teach these hieroglyphs to the Egyptians. Additionally, Seshat held the role of being scribe of the Pharaoh, recording all of his achievements and triumphs, as well as recording both the loot and captives taken during his battles. She is also the one who records the actions of all mortals upon leaves from the sacred persea tree. As the divine measurer and scribe, Seshat was also believed to recorded, by notching her palm, the time allotted to each Pharaoh for his stay on Earth. She also was responsible for recording the speeches of the Pharaohs during their crowning ceremonies.
Seshat is the one who opens the portal to the afterlife and teaches the parted spirits the sacred spells from The Egyptian Book of the Dead, allowing the spirit to safely traverse the dangers of the Underworld. Her other role is that she is the one who builds homes for the spirits in the afterlife. Seshat was also sometimes depicted helping the funerary goddess Nephthys revive the deceased in the afterlife in preparation for their judgment by Osiris within the Hall of Truth. Seshat was also closely associated with the House of Life, along with deities such as Isis, Nephthys, and Thoth. The House of Life was attached to temples and was a centre of learning and teaching, an archive and scriptorium. It functioned as the repository of all knowledge, both sacred and profane.
Seshat is known to be an expert in the art of sighting the stars and planets, as well as understanding them and calculating their movements. Due to this great skill, she was the one to assist the Pharaoh in the “stretching of the cord” ritual (“pedj shes”) so that she could have the temples and pyramids built with astronomical measurements- located beneath certain sacred areas of the sky. The “cord” refers to the mason’s line which was used to measure out the dimensions of each building. Her skills were also highly needed for surveying the land in order to re-establish boundary lines after the annual floods. Seshat is thus a granter of homes, temples, libraries, and every other foundation of the world. As she is the daughter of knowledge and order, she is the bases upon which the world thrives- assisting in the eternal evolution and truth-seeking of mankind.
In the Book of Thoth, one epithet of Seshat is “Mistress of the Sustenance of the Foremost of the Chamber of Darkness” The Chamber of Darkness is often referred to and perhaps eludes to the afterlife. Darkness is necessary for the development of intuition, wisdom, and the unfolding of mysteries, as well as the ability to face certain truths that may be hard to accept. Seshat holds the titles of “she-who-is-wise", “she who first established (the) chamber”, “she being a lamp of prophecy”. Thus, Seshat brings forth the light of truth and knowledge into the darkness of ignorance. From her comes all inventions, documents, scientific discoveries, and revelations. She is the goddess who is aware of all events and possesses a vast mind full of understanding and depth. She is an illuminating teacher to humanity- a goddess who brings the light of knowledge forth so that the world can become better.
Appearance: Sehsat was depicted as a woman wearing a leopard skin dress (as worn by shamanic priests); the pattern of this hide was thought to represent the stars, being a symbol of eternity, and to be associated with the night sky. Seshat is also shown wearing a headdress composed of either a palm-leaf stalk or a seven-pointed star on top of a pair of inverted horns (the number seven symbolizes perfection). She was occasionally called “Safekh-Aubi” (or “Safekh-Abwy” meaning “She of two horns”) because of this headdress. However, others have suggested that the horns were originally a crescent moon, representing her connection with Thoth. She is often shown offering palm branches (representing “many years”) to the Pharaoh to bless him with a long reign. She may also be shown holding a palm stem, bearing notches to denote the recording of the passage of time, especially for keeping track of the allotment of time for the life of the Pharaoh. She was also depicted holding other tools and, often, holding the knotted cords that were stretched to survey land and structures.
Personal experiences: Seshat is an extremely wise and intelligent deity who is ever-curious, always seeking out any and all information. She is an excellent mentor and bestows sage guidance upon those who are devout in seeking truth. She is an incredible healer as well, since she knows vast information on medicines and other forms of healing. She is the one who illuminates all shadows, being with us throughout life and following us into the afterlife. Seshat is in fact the daughter of Thoth and Ma’at, but she explains that she was never consort to Thoth as this was a confusion. Sometimes, deities will combine their energies together in a non-sexual way in order to create a new deity who is a combination of their unique powers. This technique was done between her and Thoth, and one of the gods created from them was Khonsu, the god of the moon and healing, as well as the representation of the Initiate on the path towards Illumination.
Seshat’s epithets:
Mistress of the House of Books
The Primeval One
The Divine Scribe
Keeper of the House of Life
She Who is Wise
Mistress of the House of Architects
Foremost of Builders
Celestial Librarian
Lady of Numbers
Lady of Writing
Chief of the Library
She of Seven Points
The Lamp of Prophecy
Knower of Fates
Divine Scribe
Lady of Hieroglyphs
Mistress of the Sustenance of the Chamber of Darkness
Reckoner of All Things on Earth
Lady of Writings in the House of Life
| Offerings |
Mead, beer, roast fish, dates, figs, plums, grapefruit, strawberry-flavoured chocolate, salted popcorn, cooked lamb, icecream, telescopes, monoculars, magnifying glasses, notebooks, scrolls, papyrus, quills, fountain pens, leopard print clothing, star imagery, star maps, henna dye, non-fiction books, old maps, miniature globes, orange or turquoise beads, golden jewelry, gold armlets (especially snake ones), lilies, roses (pink or white), tulips, geraniums, spearmint, lemon blossoms, cherry blossoms, almond blossoms, moonstone, white quartz, citrine, carnelian, jade, amethyst, amber, artwork, poetry. Incenses: amber, musk, white orchid, poppy, and sandalwood + jasmine.
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Feathers for the Pillows
Prompt: Hey there, I have a prompt for you if you'll take it! I absolutely loved your wingfics with Virgil, and was wondering if we could have something similar with Merlin? Maybe with his magic slowly turning him into a more ethereal magical being and giving him wings that he has to figure out how to deal with and hide? Possibly Arthur finding out? Thank you!
Thanks for the prompt, babe!
Read on Ao3
Warnings: none
Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide
Word Count: 3776
A bird falls out of the sky when Merlin is little.
Merlin didn’t realize it was happening at first.
He was young, still learning how his human body worked, how his magic worked, how to play and run and jump and laugh. His mother looked on fondly and shook her head, wondering how the gods could’ve created such a boisterous little boy and then had the idea to give him magic on top. Perhaps in some way, it was a way to keep himself safe, when he toppled off of shelves he’d managed to float himself up into, or when he fell from trees that he was too young to climb. Or perhaps it was another of their tricks, something to keep the mortals busy and entertained while they plotted. Either way, Merlin has magic and he runs about the woods, leaves dancing along in his wake, the forest itself opening up and welcoming him into its shadows. Patches of golden light draw forth the gold from Merlin’s eyes. The forest breathes.
A bird falls out of the sky.
It lands in front of Merlin, strangely still. It looks at him with dull, cloudy eyes. The light glints off of its feathers. There are three bent out of place. It lies on a bed of leaves and looks at Merlin.
Merlin stops, tilting his head as he looks back. The bird’s eyes are unfocused, staring not at Merlin’s face but through it. The beak is open partway, the head cocked to the side. The wind ruffles its wings. The feathers twitch. It won’t look away from Merlin.
Merlin gulps, reaching out his chubby little hands and taking a step closer. Does the bird want his clothes?
“Merlin?” His mother’s voice comes from far away. “Merlin, it’s time to eat!”
Merlin stops, looking once more at the bird before turning around and running back home. The bird’s eyes watch him go.
Merlin dreams of flying.
When he’s just turning into a young man, his back starts to hurt all the time. His mother frets that he’s working too hard, but he mumbles that he’s been using magic, he’s not putting any strain on his back. She cuffs him lightly across the shoulder, but the furrow between her brows doesn’t disappear. It only deepens as Merlin’s back worsens, when little lips begin to appear beneath his shoulder blades.
She sends him to Camelot.
Gaius looks him over and raises an eyebrow—the first time Merlin sees the eyebrow of magical disbelief, but certainly not the last—and points Merlin to a drawing of a man with wings.
“They will grow,” Gaius explains solemnly, “but they will not hurt you.”
“They’re hurting me now,” Merlin grumbles, reaching around to scratch at his back. Gaius stops him.
“Growing pains are to be expected,” he says, “but they will get worse if you do not let them grow in properly.”
“How’m I supposed to do that?”
Neither of them knows. Neither of them knows because Merlin is magic, under Uther Pendragon’s nose, as the servant of the Crown Prince Arthur.
They can’t bind the wings as they grow. They can’t excuse Merlin’s back pain as anything other than back pain. They can only pad Merlin up with ill-fitting tunics so much.
Arthur doesn’t notice.
After a year, they’re fully grown. The feathers are…unruly, but small enough and white enough that they can be passed off as ornamentation, discarded from some elaborate headdress. The wings can fold up under his tunic and stay hidden, so long as no one touches him.
Well, that won’t be a problem.
He moves through the castle too fast for people to get a good look at him. The knights don’t want to look at him. Arthur only cuffs him upside the head.
His secret is safe.
Then he undergoes his first molt and he lies in agony for a day, as Gaius tries his best to care for the wings. The feathers overflow, crowding the room, until Merlin can figure out that they can make pillows out of them. It takes a moment for them to appear in the rest of the castle, but Morgana comes by to ask whether she can have an extra one. Apparently, they help with her nightmares.
Merlin is more than happy to oblige, at least until Morgana asks him where he gets the feathers from.
“Um…”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she winks, giving his arm a gentle pat, “I won’t tell. Just make sure you bring plenty, hmm?”
Morgana touches him. It’s always sweet, just a quick pat on his arm or his shoulder, but she touches him. She notices. Gwen notices too. And Gwen sticks by his side, is allowed to stick by his side, when the feasts and the council meetings happen and they work.
“Merlin,” she admonishes one hot night, “you must take off at least one of those shirts, you’re going to boil to death.”
“I’m fine, Gwen,” Merlin says, wiping sweat off his brow, “I’ll only be cold in a few minutes.”
His hands are always cold.
The wings don’t like always being cooped up under his tunic, so he stretches them every once in a while. He goes out of Camelot, far away from the prying lights of the high walls, and sits in the forest, stretching his wings. They are a little stiff sometimes, but he works patiently until he can unfurl them painlessly, letting the extra feathers slide off to be collected.
“You really must tell me where you’re getting all these feathers, Merlin,” Morgana remarks one day, “maybe I’ll have to place an order large enough for a shawl.”
Merlin gulps. “I can—I can see?”
“Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says, taking him gently by the arm, “I know you’ve got more important things to do.”
“Merlin!”
“Like tending to Arthur,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as Arthur storms around the corner.
“There you are, come on. Job for you.”
“Coming.”
No, Arthur doesn’t notice.
The knights…the knights.
Leon notices, Leon notices everything. Although he doesn’t realize exactly what he’s noticing, Merlin watches him approach after a training session and carefully pull him to his feet.
“Can it be healed,” the knight asks softly, far too quiet for the others to hear, “what ails you?”
“What?”
Leon gestures to Merlin’s back. “I have known men that…cannot be healed as easily.”
Merlin’s shoulders slump. “No, it’s not…it’s the way I am.”
“I understand. Please,” Leon says, resting a kind hand on his shoulder, “do not hesitate to tell me if there are things that I can do to make this easier.”
Leon notices everything, Lancelot notices Merlin.
Merlin doesn’t bother to hide his magic from Lancelot. The man met him and knew, and he takes very great pains to make sure that Merlin knows his secret is safe with Lancelot. Merlin finds himself leaning on Lancelot more than he would care to admit, even going so far as to physically lean on the man. Lancelot never minds, always reaching to stealthily make it a little easier for Merlin to stand. But Lancelot doesn’t put together that Merlin has wings.
“I’ll help you,” Lancelot promises when merlin says he doesn’t want to tell him, “you don’t owe me an explanation.”
Merlin lets himself slump forward into Lancelot gratefully.
Lancelot helps quietly, Gwaine helps loudly.
Whenever Merlin beings to slump, needing a break, Gwaine makes the loudest, most obnoxious distraction he can, be that some loud bawdy joke, some great exclamation, or knocking over a massive shelf of newly polished pie tins. He plays up his clumsiness, his ‘common’ nature, all to make everyone else more focused on him than on Merlin.
“Let them think what they will,” he says to Merlin by the fire one night as they keep watch, “I don’t care. As long as you’re okay.”
“Even if you don’t…know why?”
Gwaine shrugs. “I trust you.”
Merlin smiles.
Gwaine distracts, Elyan suggests.
The first time Elyan notices Merlin wincing every time something comes near his back, he brings Merlin to the armory and suggests a leather tunic.
“It might help with support,” he says, pointing out the different points on the back, “and give your spine a little less to deal with.”
“…could it be made to fit under clothing?”
“Of course. I’ve got a friend that works down in the blacksmith’s district that makes ones to go under ladies’ clothes.”
Merlin looks at it and promises to think about it. In truth, if it’s going to be fitted properly, they’re going to have to see his wings.
That’s not a risk he’s willing to take.
But he does promise that Elyan can make him something to make things a little easier.
“I won’t pry,” Elyan promises, “but you’ll let us help, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Elyan puts things together, Percival pulls things apart.
“Easy,” the knight mutters as Merlin winces, “almost there.”
Merlin grits his teeth and pulls, straining away from the metal digging into his back. Percival grunts, holding it apart.
“On three, ready?”
“Ready.”
“One…two…three.”
Merlin yanks. The metal comes apart in Percival’s hand and the force sends the two staggering apart, panting. Percival tosses the remains over his shoulder.
“That’s the last time I put one of those on,” Merlin grumbles, rubbing his shoulder.
Arthur had the great idea to do full melee drills today. Problem is, with Arthur standing back to watch, the knights are an odd number. Which means that Merlin was placed in a suit and made to hold a lance. The metal pressed his wings flat to his back and squeezed, making it hard for Merlin to stand, much less fight.
Percival had taken one look at him and ushered him away, using his strength to pry apart the pieces to get Merlin free.
“Are you alright,” he asks, using a voice that Merlin has never heard before, “are you very badly hurt?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Good.” Percival lays a large hand on Merlin’s back, only for Merlin to flinch away. “Sorry.”
“Just…” Merlin shakes his head. “Go tell Arthur I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”
Percival leaves with a nod.
The knights notice, even if it’s not everything.
Then Morgana walks in without knocking while Merlin’s wings are out and he freezes.
“Oh,” she breathes, dropping the pieces of fabric she holds, looking at Merlin’s wings spread wide, “Merlin, they’re beautiful.”
Merlin is too shocked to make a sound.
Morgana closes the door softly, walking forward with her hands outstretched. “I won’t hurt you, Merlin, I promise, I just…wow.”
Merlin swallows. “Are you…you’re not afraid?”
“You’re Merlin,” Morgana smiles gently, “how could I be afraid?”
“They’re magic.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still not afraid?”
“No.” She reaches out tentatively. “May I?”
Merlin shudders as her hands lightly brush one of his feathers. She makes a soft noise.
“These are where those feathers come from,” she murmurs, “aren’t they?”
“…they’re mine.”
“They’re lovely,” she promises, her smile so wide, “and so are you.”
She giggles as Merlin flushes red.
Morgana vows to keep it a secret, and in turn, Merlin teaches her about magic. Her nightmares fade away as she sleeps on pillows they make together, as Merlin carefully grooms his wings and Morgana teaches him how to embroider. They keep it a secret, under the watchful eye of Gaius, sewing, and plucking and talking in the night. Gwen comes to join them, smiling wide and bringing Merlin into a gentle hug as he shows her for the first time. Her hands at the base of his spine feel warm.
“Do they hurt much?”
“Not anymore,” Merlin says, giving them an experimental shake, “I’ve…gotten used to it.”
“Well, you must let us help you when they hurt,” Morgana says, rethreading her needle, “if only as an act of repayment.”
“Repay—Morgana…”
“You’ve given us the gift of your feathers,” Morgana interrupts, “not to mention all that you’ve done for Camelot. For me.”
“And for me.”
“But I—“
“You’re lovely, Merlin,” Morgana promises, smiling when Merlin flushes red again, “let us help you?”
And what can Merlin do but say yes?
They do help, but there’s not a whole lot they can do. It just…it hurts sometimes.
The feathers will itch. The wing joints will grow still and stiff. And when the wings grow still and stiff they’re just pounds of dead weight, almost impossible to hide. Merlin grows slow on these days, unable to bound up the steps after Arthur or dart about the castle. Instead, he sits and does small chores, like polishing armor or writing speeches. Morgana will sit with him if she can, sewing. Gwen will fetch her own chores and they’ll do them together. The knights will sit with him and keep the other eyes of the castle away.
Arthur…Arthur doesn’t do much.
And really, really well…isn’t that why it might hurt so badly?
Merlin spends nearly all of his time with Arthur. He knows more about Arthur than he does about nearly everyone, maybe even more than he knows about himself, and Arthur just…doesn’t care?
That makes the wings grow a little heavier.
One day, it’s very bad. Merlin can’t roll over, can’t dislodge the weight on his back. It makes it hard to breathe with his chest smashed as it is against the mattress. He stares at the wall, blinking, unfocused, not seeing anything but the vague light and dark spots against the solid gray of the stone. It hurts. He feels dull, lifeless, unable to summon any energy to move.
His eyes begin to cloud over as he lies still.
Soft footsteps outside his door. The door opening slowly and closing just as slowly. The creak of the floorboards as someone walks to sit next to his head. Red jerkin. Brown trousers. Golden hair.
…Arthur?
“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “hard day?”
Merlin nods, confused as to why Arthur’s here and why he’s not shouting at Merlin to get his lazy arse out of bed.
“Are you feeling alright?”
The answer that Arthur probably wants is ‘yes.’ The honest answer is ‘no.’ The very honest answer is ‘why do you care?’
Merlin settles for shaking his head.
Arthur makes a noise of sympathy, reaching forward to card his fingers lightly through Merlin’s greasy hair. His fingers reach through to Merlin’s scalp, scratching gently.
“Arthur?”
“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says immediately, “it’s only me. Does it hurt very much today?”
Merlin frowns. How…what…what is Arthur doing?
“Did Gaius…Gaius tell you?”
“No, Merlin. I figured that when you didn’t show up today that something might be wrong, so I…came to check.” Arthur smiles and ruffles Merlin’s hair. “Good thing I did.”
“Not—I meant about my—my—“
Merlin runs of out air, twisting his head as he is to look up at Arthur from his position on his stomach.
“Easy,” Arthur says, gentling Merlin’s head back to the pillow, “rest your neck. I’ll talk, yeah?”
Merlin’s too exhausted to do anything but obey.
“No, Gaius didn’t tell me about your back, Merlin.”
“…Morgana?”
“No, not Morgana.”
“Gwen?”
“Not Gwen.”
“…knights?”
“Not the knights either.” Arthur’s hand reaches down to scratch at the base of Merlin’s head. “No one had to tell me, Merlin.”
But Arthur…but he…
“You never noticed,” Merlin mumbles, half into the pillow, “not…ever. Not before.”
“About your back?” When Merlin nods, Arthur huffs gently. “Merlin, I noticed the first day you arrived in Camelot.”
What?
“I just…well, I figured you were…that you may be ashamed of it,” Arthur continues, a little sheepish, “or maybe I assumed you’d prefer if I never brought it up.”
“S-so…so you…”
“I always knew, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “but I…no, I’m—I’m sorry I never said anything.”
“…oh.”
Arthur shifts, getting off the stool to kneel on the floor, his face next to Merlin’s, his hand still rubbing the base of Merlin’s skull. “Can I make up for that a little by helping now?”
Merlin nods.
“Right,” Arthur murmurs, “now…thank you, firstly. Second, have you tried getting out of bed today?”
Merlin shakes his head, growing more and more miserable.
“Alright…would you like to?”
“…’ve got work.”
“That wasn’t what I asked,” Arthur chides gently, “I asked if you’d like to get out of bed.”
He smiles kindly when Merlin seems to flounder for an answer.
“I can help you get out of bed if you like,” he says, “but…you are also allowed to lie here for today. Especially if it hurts. I’ll stay with you.”
“You…you will?”
Arthur smiles, petting Merlin’s hair again. “Of course.”
Merlin closes his eyes, losing himself in the gentle pats. It…it might be nice to try and sleep again, but…but his wings might just hurt more when he wakes up.
“No?” Arthur nods when Merlin shakes his head. “Alright. Let’s…let’s see if we can at least sit you up.”
He tucks a palm under Merlin’s head and holds it steady, reaching low and wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist.
“Hang on.”
Merlin’s back strains with the wings as Arthur begins to sit him up, only for Arthur to grunt and pull harder.
“You’re much heavier than you look, Merlin,” he says worriedly, “are you—are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“I—I’m—“
“Are they broken?”
Merlin freezes.
He looks slowly at Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow.
“Come on. My Merlin doesn’t get to grow wings and not have me notice.”
“I—I—“
“Shh,” Arthur soothes, his arms still tightly around Merlin, “it’s alright. Do I look angry?”
“N-no, but—“
“I’m not. I’m worried.” Arthur nods at Merlin’s wings. “Are they broken?”
“N-no, just…just stiff.”
“Alright. Can I…can I help?”
Merlin swallows. Arthur…Arthur knows. Arthur’s not angry. Arthur’s not…angry?
“My Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, gently bumping his head against Merlin’s, “of course I’m not angry, you’re lovely.”
He chuckles when Merlin flushes red again, adjusting his grip to help the blanket stay on Merlin’s shoulders.
“Will you let me help?”
Merlin’s fingers tighten in the front of Arthur’s jerkin and he nods.
“I’m going to take the blanket off now, okay?”
The blanket falls to the bed and Merlin’s wings unfurl, spreading as wide as they can, trying to stretch. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as he holds onto Merlin.
“Oh, Merlin…”
“They hurt,” he mumbles, “they hurt.”
“Alright,” Arthur mutters to himself, “alright. Let’s do this.”
The bed sinks behind him as Arthur carefully positions himself between the wings. He reaches out to gently card his fingers through the wings, going right to the glands.
“Ah!”
“Sorry,” Arthur mumbles, “I’ll be more gentle.”
“How—“ Merlin shudders and gasps as Arthur’s warm, warm hands move easily through his wings— “how do you know how to do this?”
“The stable has hawks,” Arthur murmurs, gently sorting out the stiff joints, “and I learned how to tend to them when the stable master taught me to hunt.”
“So—so you—ah!”
Merlin can hear the smile in Arthur’s voice as he rubs his thumb around the base of the joint connecting Merlin’s wing to his back. “Yes, Merlin, I know what I’m doing.”
Merlin has never been touched like this.
Arthur knows just how to stroke the muscles to get them to relax, to pull out the broken and crumpled feathers and work the oil throughout. He knows just how gentle to be when he swipes his thumb across the gland, knows just how firm to be when he runs his fingers through the base of the wings. He knows Merlin, knows how to pause when Merlin shudders too much, how to reassure him that he’s almost there, just a moment, please.
“H-how—“ Merlin bits back another gasp as Arthur straightens a particularly stubborn feather— “how did you n-not tell me?”
“I thought you were ashamed of them,” Arthur says softly, resting his hands at the base of Merlin’s sides, “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”
“I…”
Was he?
“…I was ashamed of my—of the magic,” he stumbles, “and I…”
“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Merlin’s waist, “you should never be ashamed of your magic.”
He chuckles when he feels Merlin gasp under his hands.
“That one you can blame on everyone else not doing a good job of hiding it.”
“Don’t be mad at them,” Merlin blurts, “please, it’s not their fault—“
“Shh,” Arthur rumbles, reaching up to scratch at the soft part of Merlin’s wings again, “I’m not. Just...you can exhale now, Merlin, it’s alright.”
Merlin breathes. His wings flutter a little. A tiny gold glimmer darts around the feathers. He relaxes back into Arthur’s arms, letting Arthur hold his weight and his wings.
“You’re alright, now…”
A soft knock on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Morgana.”
“And Gwen!”
“Merlin?” Arthur chuckles when Merlin just mumbles. “Come in.”
Morgana giggles as she catches sight of Merlin all sprawled out on Arthur’s chest. “Seems Arthur started feather collecting earlier, hmm?”
“Feather collecting?”
“You didn’t think those pillows made themselves, did you?”
Gwen rolls her eyes as the two bicker, reaching to gently pull Merlin forward to hug him.
“You feeling a little better?”
“A little.”
Gwen smiles. “I’m so glad. You look…a little lighter too.”
Merlin smiles back.
“He hasn’t told you either?”
Merlin glances around to see Morgana shaking her head. Arthur huffs.
“Well, now we both have to ask him.”
Merlin’s face goes pale. “A-ask me what?”
“Don’t look so afraid,” Morgana says, “it ruins your lovely face.”
…well, he’s not pale anymore.
“Stop flirting with my Merlin.”
“Oh he’s your Merlin, now, is he?”
“He’s always been my Merlin.”
“What did you want to ask me,” Merlin interrupts before his face can get any redder.
“Right.” Arthur claps his hands. “Can you fly?”
“What?”
“Can you fly?” Arthur gestures to the wings. “Or are they just there to be pretty?”
“What happened to no flirting?”
“Oh, that’s just for you.”
“Rude.”
“I, um…” Merlin twists his hands together. “I’ve never tried.”
Morgana looks at Arthur. Arthur looks at Morgana. They both look at Merlin. Gwen giggles.
Merlin sighs.
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
Merlin dreams of flying.
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Interview with Claire Anderson, the costume designer for Good Omens!
GARDEN OF EDEN, 4004 B.C.
Anderson looked at everything from Pre-Raphaelite paintings to Al Pacino’s hippie clothes in Serpico to determine just the right flow for Aziraphale’s rough-hewn robe, which has gold embroidery on the shoulders and side. Aziraphale is also wearing a golden ring, which later becomes a signet ring stamped with wings in the Victorian era.
NOAH'S ARK, MESOPOTAMIA, 3004 B.C.
“As aged as I am, I wasn’t there,” Anderson says, laughing. “And there wasn’t any painting or documentation from this era. But what we do know is that tunics remained pretty simple, and the earlier shape would have served them well for many years.” Aziraphale’s robe becomes more streamlined, and he wears gold beads at the neck.
THE CRUCIFIXION, GOLGOTHA, 33
By this time, both Aziraphale and Crawley — now Crowley — are wearing turbans and head wraps, which Anderson attributes to “a bit of vanity.” Plus the wrap helps Crowley conceal his snake-like eyes (it’s too soon for glasses). Aziraphale dons a soft leather coat over his tunic, while Crowley wears female attire of the region — an abaya.
ROME, 41
Switching from tunics to togas was difficult, since togas contain 6 to 12 meters of fabric, which is a lot to carry around on camera. Anderson reduced the size by cutting the togas to fit for the character’s movements, and she gave each actor a thematic decorative pin to hold their togas together — Crowley a serpent and staff, Aziraphale a pair of wings (both courtesy of George Easton at Danegeld Historic Jewellery). Although history might argue that it’s too soon for sunglasses, Crowley starts to shield his eyes with a very small, eye-shaped lens. “It’s suggestive, rather than historically accurate,” Anderson says. And as a sign that Crowley is adapting to the humans around him, he also wears a silver laurel wreath.
ARTHURIAN ENGLAND, THE KINGDOM OF WESSEX, 537
Anderson sent character descriptions and visuals for Aziraphale and Crowley to armor specialist FBFX, which sent a van to London full of pieces that could work for angelic and demonic armor. Instead of focusing on historical accuracy, Anderson looked for shapes and fit that suggested an ethereal — or snakelike — quality, once the pieces had been painted black or silver. For Crowley, she found a helmet that had a smaller face that could suggest a snakehead, and for Aziraphale, shoulder pieces that were slightly wing-like. To add to the wing effect, Anderson added a white fur caplet to Aziraphale’s armor. “It was terribly grand, but not very practical,” she says. “And the poor guys, it was murderously uncomfortable to stand around in that armor.”
GLOBE THEATRE, LONDON, 1601
Crowley and Aziraphale catch an early version of Hamlet, looking more period-appropriate than ever thanks to the Globe’s vast archive of costumes. Aziraphale’s wardrobe, which includes a neck ruff edged with gold thread, has a metallic look with a hint of iridescent blue, which opens up his color palette. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a cleaner neckline and leather on his doublet, as well as fabrics that provide sheen and luster to suggest his snaky origins.
REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE, PARIS, 1793
This is not a period to be dressed like an aristocrat, but Aziraphale couldn’t resist a lace collar, gold brocade and fitted jacket — which explains why he’s stuck in a prison cell (at least until Crowley intervenes). Crowley, more mindful of what revolutionaries would wear, dons a dark red jacket that’s almost as dark as his usual black. When Aziraphale miracle-changes his clothes, he wears the red cap of liberty. “It’s a soft beret that falls somewhere between a modern French beret and a pirate headdress,” Anderson notes.
ST. JAMES' PARK, LONDON, 1862
This is the time period with which Aziraphale gets most comfortable, fashion-wise, and settles into a Victorian look with tartan flair. Anderson also bestowed some heavenly nods to his angelic nature — a feathery velvet top hat, a stopwatch with angel’s wings on the chain, and the signet ring. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a pair of long, elegantly cut trousers that we will see again in the 1960s. “The trousers repeat, which is basically what fashion does anyway,” Anderson says. “And it’s what the story does. There are notes backward and forwards.”
THE BLITZ, LONDON, 1941
Aziraphale’s tartan necktie becomes a bow tie, and his penchant for wide lapels, a nod to his wings, continues, this time with a spear-point collar. Crowley, who comes to save Aziraphale once again, is dressed more formally, in a full double-breasted wool suit that must have been hard for David Tennant to wear in the South African heat. “The rest of the crew were in flip-flops and T-shirts, and David was in the suit, hat, and those big boots,” Anderson says, recalling the shoot. “He had to be very physically active in that scene, and yet David didn’t complain about the heat or anything. He’s amazing.”
SOHO, LONDON, 1967
Crowley, as noted, continues to wear his Victorian trousers, which are right up to date, and which he pairs with a black paisley velvet jacket with contrasting lapels. His sunglasses now have more of a John Lennon vibe. Aziraphale, perhaps inadvertently, is also looking stylish with his Victorian topcoat, spear-point collar, and cravat (modified from his scarf in Victorian England). “You can’t avoid being affected by changing trends,” Anderson says. “However bookish you are, you still notice other people. And you would have had Rolling Stones and Beatles fans wearing that kind of thing. That was our argument for Aziraphale wearing his Victorian topcoat all the way through, and Michael Sheen loved it. He said it inspired him. And the cravat rang in the changes and helped us with the passage of time, rather than always having him wear a bow tie.”
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Fictober ‘21: Day 5
Prompt: “ I’m not saying I told you so…”
Fandom: World of Warcraft
Rating: G
Pairing: Tish/Night (aka Tirastrasza/Nitraxion) both are OCs
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It was a clear and sunny day, and in Tirastrasza's opinion, perfect for flying. She had spent much of the day cooped up in the Dalaran libraries sorting through scrolls older than she was, organizing and fixing enchantments on tomes whose wards were starting to fail from age. But as much as she enjoyed her time surrounded by knowledge both ancient and new she still preferred her time soaring the skies, especially alongside her closest confidant and mate.
Putting the book she had in her hands in its spot on the shelf before her, she turned and made her way out of the library. A short break wouldn't hurt anything, and then she could get back to her tasks with a clear head. Striding out she passed by a few apprentices studying their spells, some focused and writing note after note, others looking bored out of their minds. She smiled at them as she passed, their instructor nodding her way before admonishing one student that looked to be dozing off.
She paused, trying to think of where Night should be at at the moment, certain he could use the break as well. He favored the gardens so she decided she would start there.
Sure enough, she spotted him weeding one of the many beds of flowers in the main gardens. She grinned at him as she strode up.
"Tish…" while he did look happy to see her, his voice held a tinge of suspicion. "Aren't you in charge of the libraries today?"
She waved the question off, "I'm just taking a break. Care to join me?"
He thought a moment before wiping his hands on a towel. "I was pretty much finished, so it wouldn't hurt. What did you have in mind?"
"Just a bit of flying, clear my head."
"That might draw some attention." He stood, dusting off his knees. "Dragons aren't unheard of around here, especially reds, but I'll stick out too much."
"Ah, it'll be fine." She grinned and winked at him.
Or at least he was fairly sure she did. "You know it's hard to tell when you wink with your eyepatch." He followed after as she walked off, the pair heading for the teleportation crystal that would take them down to the forests below. It'd be safer to transform there than in the city itself.
"But you were able to tell." Her grin widened.
"I've spent much too much time with you since we've met. I've gotten used to your habits." He smiled affectionately at her for a moment, before continuing. "Speaking of, you did let the other one you were working with know you were taking a break right?"
She strode into the room that held the crystal, smiling at the guards as they walked past. "You mean Mey? Don't worry, she'll figure it out. Besides, we won't be gone that long."
"You should've at least left a note," he sighed, this wasn't the first time she'd wandered off without telling anyone, and every time she got yelled at. "She's going to be pissed."
She waved him off as she triggered the enchantment. The room shifted, fading around them, and in a blink, they were standing in the camp on the opposite side of the Crystalsong Forest. Walking down the path that lead to Dragonblight they hid off to the side, using the cover to shift forms.
Tish shifted first, scarlet robes turning to a brilliant scale of the same color, covering every inch of her as she grew larger, her face becoming reptilian, the scars that showed underneath her eyepatch becoming more pronounced, and the bit of cloth shifted and became part of a jeweled headdress that adorned her horns. Once the transformation was complete she shook herself, the chains and decorations that she wore tinkling with the movement, and flexed her wings. "It feels like it's been so long since I had a chance to wear this form." She looked down at night, "well?"
"I can wait here for you."
"Night…"
"I'll stand out, Tish. It's best if I just enjoy what I can in this form."
"We don't need to go anywhere near the Dragonshrines or the temple. We can go to the Storm Peaks, I know you’ve been wanting to go there. Only other dragons there are proto-dragons and who cares what they think." She nodded towards the north and then the east, "or the Grizzly Hills. Plenty of plants for you to see."
He debated for a moment before finally giving in. "Fine, but not for too long." He spread his arms, shifting form. Where Tish sported crimson scales marking her as one of Alexstraszas flight, Night became covered in midnight blue and onyx scales, scales so fine they appeared as if leather or skin. He shook as he transformed, his head taking on a more sharklike appearance and his wings flexing as he reached his full size. He wore no ornamentation save a bangle on his right paw that matched his mate, but he had an ethereal glow to him as if he was constantly shifting in and out of this plane of existence.
Giving his body a final shake he nodded, "shall we?"
"Hope you can keep up!" She said as she flapped her wings hard and launched herself into the air. She circled, riding on the updrafts until he followed after, then both Tirastrasza and Nitraxion headed off towards the snowy mountains of the Storm Peaks.
He had had his concerns, nether dragons weren't common in Azeroth, much of that due to both the flights of this world (especially the blues) and his own flight believing it best that they stay in outlands, but meeting Tirastrasza had made him dare go against his matriarch's wishes and stow away on a transport back to Azeroth. They had been inseparable since, traveling across Azeroth to explore and learn and to just enjoy life.
And while he worried what would become of them if he was discovered, the thrill of being able to see this world for all its beauty made it worth it. And while he had complained about her slacking off, he got swept right up in his excitement that both had spent much more time than they had intended exploring the snowy peaks. The sun had started to set by the time the pair returned to the pathway and shifted back to their mortal forms, and it had gotten dark when they reached the camp and used the crystal to return to Dalaran.
Waiting for them, with arms crossed and glare on her face was Mey. The blood elf huffed in annoyance before greeting them, "welcome back."
"Oh! Mey! I'm so sorry, I wanted to just get some air, but time got away from me! I hope it wasn't too much trouble."
The elf smiled cooly at her. "It's no trouble at all. In fact, the tomes and scrolls you were assigned are waiting for you to finish."
Tish looked surprised, "they are? Well, that's… great, thank you, I'll be sure to take care of them in the morning when the library is open."
"Oh, don't worry. I requested access for you all night so you can finish." The smile appeared more cruel than sweet, "I appreciate your help!" She bid them a good night and left.
"Love." Night patted her on the shoulder, "I'm not saying I told you so, but… I can at least give you a hand."
She looked at him, gratitude obvious on her face, "you will? I'll pay you back, I'll cover for you next time you want to get out of work alright."
"I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather you just finish your work on time." He stepped out of the building, Tish by his side, as they headed back to the library. "Besides for a red you are terrible with plants." He shook his head, though he couldn't muffle the laugh at the look on her face.
"That was one time, and I had never seen a plant like that!" She started to laugh as well. "Fine how about I find another way to pay you back."
"After we finish work."
"Yeah yeah."
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Into the Spardaverse 7 - Dancing Snow
Time for Into the Spardaverse 7, our Free Day! Set before Frassino.
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Characters: Original Female Character(s), Vergil
Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @astral-space-dragon @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate
Summary: Lord Vergil Sparda expected a boring ball where he had to dance with a noblewoman he has no interest in. What he got was a night that changed everything.
Vergil stared out at the line of ladies, all of varying social stature. He could tell that, at the bare minimum, all of them dressed as best they could. He politely bowed his head to each woman who curtsied. His father loved parties and balls, hence why he was here, greeting the woman who came to him in his pristine suit. He glanced up to the balcony above him. His father was staring adoringly at his mother, as if the ball below was a distant world to them. He smiled faintly at them, at least they were enjoying themselves.
“Lady Mariza Guinta!” The announcer called. Vergil snapped back to her, face quickly shifting to his neutral glare. He knew of Lady Mariza, her father was the royal huntmaster, a stalwart ally and she was a cousin of the current vicar of Fortuna, Ansaldo Sanctus. If he didn’t find a potential bride at this ball, then his next best choice would be her with the pedigree she had. She was polite enough to him and his family, knowledgeable about the rules of etiquette, and played the harp in her spare time. But he did remember seeing her being needlessly snide to the peasants in the market, something he didn’t desire in anyone, much less his future bride. King he may not become, due to his father passing the crown to the Elesion family, but there was something about that side of her that he didn’t want by his side. As she strode to meet him, each curl of her brown hair in perfect place, she bowed to him. Her brown eyes glanced up to him, eager to have the opportunity to dance with him. He didn’t return that eagerness.
“Your highness.”
“Lady Mariza.” He nodded, his voice stiff. If she noticed, she didn’t react. She merely shuffled off to indulge in one of the treats. He resisted the urge to scowl as she left. She may be the best bachelorette for his hand but he would never accept any dowry from her father. Unfortunately, his social standing still had to be maintained for tonight. He looked up to the door, silent and guarded, before letting out a sigh.
As much as he loathed to do so, his dance partner would have to be Lady Mariza. He prayed it would just be one dance. He couldn’t bear any more than one-
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He jerked his head to the door as the guards reached over to open it. Stepping into the ballroom was a young woman in silvery white. Her dress fluttered as she walked down the stairs, the fabric shimmering like falling snow. Pinned to her short blonde hair were white blooms and delicate chains of glass beads. He felt his mouth dry at how ethereal she looked as she walked across the floor to him. Even the announcer, awe-struck by her presence, forgot to announce her.
Not that he needed to do so, as she curtsied to him.
“Cassandra Sagefire, your highness.”
“Cassandra…” He murmured. He knew of her, daughter of Eternis Brillia to the north. She came to his mother seeking employment as a lady-in-waiting, odd considering her former status in the very city she hailed from. Some of the more gossipy noblewomen (including Lady Mariza) called her one of Dante’s courtesans (and he had many, much to Vergil’s own disgust) and exile of her own home with such venom in their words. However, Cassandra never let them bring her down, keeping her head held high as she dutifully aided his mother. He had seen her in more simple dresses of white and yellow but this? This was something that went beyond his wildest expectations. “You’re beautiful.”
“Heh, surprised you?”
“More than that.” He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
“Of course, your highness.” She took his offered hand gently. He pulled her close, settling his hands in a waltz. As the violins began to sing, he led her through the waltz. She kept up expertly, smiling to him as the light caught the glass beads in her headdress. He glanced at her dress occasionally as it swayed with her body. It was almost magical how the light danced along the fabric. As he pulled her close for a dip, his nose was met with a crisp clean scent, reminding him of a snow-coated forest. He let out a slow exhale. “Tired?”
“No, my dear. I am enchanted by you.” He purred as he pulled her up from the dip. He glanced up at the change in music. “Shall we head elsewhere?” He asked softly.
“I believe the gazebo in the garden would be a beautiful place to dance.” Cassandra hummed. Vergil nodded in agreement as he led her out of the hall. So enamored was he, he failed to sense Mariza’s glare on their backs.
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A Strange Moment in Time Ch5
Ok so I'm human and suck at descriptions, so I didn't include any mention of Runaan's arms. I will touch more on it when he is in another chapter, but Runaan has only one arm. The assassin band removed his left arm as promised. now, enjoy the rest I guess.
Viren’s head throbbed as though the weight of the world sat on his temples. Reaching up to hold his head only brought an uncomfortably loud racket causing him to wince. Finally he opened his eyes to investigate the source of this metallic clanging coming from his wrists. Chains. Viren was chained to the floor.
The dungeon? Why am I here? Viren thought, already recounting the events that led up to this.
The elves were attacking, one of them ran off, I had the other one on the ropes, then I was trapped in ice by… the mage. He was a human mage! Why would a human help those bloodthirsty elves? And how did that land me here?
Viren scanned his surroundings. He was in the castle’s public dungeon, not his own hidden cells. The bed he lay on, hardwood with no covers, typical for a prisoner. The light coming from above was a soft purple, indicating that dawn was only an hour or two away. This however made seeing farther than five feet away difficult. His robes seemed to be all that was left on him. No pouches on his belt or ingredients in his pockets making him feel almost naked.
“My my, what a sticky situation we have here.” a deep voice almost sang from the darkness.
Viren bolted up, trying to look as battle ready as possible with his hands bound.
“Who is there? Show yourself!” Viren commanded.
“But, of course. I am always here to help you Viren.” came a smooth, almost amused reply. From the shadows just beyond the bars of his cell, a figure appeared, a translucent being that felt almost ancient, and ethereal. The robes it wore were covered in a starry pattern extending to its drawn hood, which seemed to be covering some large headdress. “Past, present, and future.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Viren asked, gaining an ever increasing feeling of dejavu.
“I assume by now you have figured out that something is off, that you are not where you’re supposed to be. Well my dear Viren, that is because I have brought you to a new and interesting time, specifically somewhere around thirty two years in the future. This may sound crazy I know, but I assure you, it’s possible.” The stranger explained, matter-of-factly.
Viren stared at him for a minute, before deciding that this was all in his imagination, probably from being hit in the head, and layed back down on the bed.
“Come now, I assure you this is real. I am bound to you Viren, through space and time. And through this bond, I have called you to me, through all these years, so that I can finally ensure that your will is done.” The stranger almost pleaded with him.
“And what is that exactly? And why should I believe you? I don’t know who or what you are.” Viren huffed.
“I am your humble servant. You wish to secure a bright future for all of humanity. I seek only to aid you in that endeavor. I have earned your trust before, and I will do so again. You need your freedom first. Then I believe some pesky elves should be removed.” The stranger grinned.
Callum fidgeted with his scarf as he climbed the stairs. He said he wanted to talk to his mom, and he did, but now he had no idea what he wanted to ask. The urge to talk to her for hours had welled in his chest, however he hadn’t even started and was drawing a blank on what to say. He was running out of stairwell to climb and still no closer to a conversation starter, when he was interrupted by Queen Sarai herself.
“Callum! It is still no stranger to see you fully grown today than it was yesterday. But look at you! An early riser, with a healthy lifestyle. I’m so proud.” Saria practically beamed.
“Oh… um.. Thanks. I mean most days I still try to sleep in. But I’m a dad you know. I’ve got to set a good example. I mean, you know. You’re a mom. I mean of course you know you’re a mom. How wouldn’t you know? Heh heh.” Callum couldn’t stop the word vomit spilling from his mouth. “You were a really good one too. I mean ARE a good one. I’m sorry. I don’t know if that’s rude. I’ve never talked with someone from the past before… Sorry.” Callum sighed, trying to reign in the thoughts racing through his head.
“Honey, it’s ok, take a breath. Are you ok?” Sarai grabbed his shoulder, concern flooding her face.
“Sorry, yeah I’m ok. It’s just weird having you back.” Callum said.
“How long have I been gone?” Sarai’s tone softened, looking directly at her son.
“Um… About thirty… one, thirty two years. It’s been a while.” he said.
“It’s ok that you’re nervous. If my dad suddenly showed up I would be too. Come on, Harrow is checking on the kids, why don’t we get something to snack on before breakfast?” Sarai offered.
“Well Barius usually has some jelly tarts ready for Ezran early in the morning.” Callum suggested.
“I knew I liked that man.” Sarai smiled.
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Ezran shuffled towards the castle kitchen, desperate for a sugary boost to his morning after the near all-nighter he just pulled. As he rounded the last corner, voices caught him off-guard enough to bring him to attention. It was Callum and Queen Sarai talking softly to one another, their voices packed with emotion. Ezran ducked behind the door frame and listened as well as he could.
“It wasn’t easy growing up without you after that, no. I tried so hard to grow into the man I thought you wanted me to be.... But at some point, I was so busy just trying to survive, or do what was right, that I forgot to be what you wanted of me. I guess that just made me think I failed you.” Callum sounded like he was about to cry.
“Sweetie, I promise you, that you haven’t failed me. All I wanted for you is to grow up happy and healthy. The last thing I want is for you to try to be something you’re not just to please someone else. And look at you! You’re High Mage, have a happy family, you stay active and just. You’re everything I ever hoped you would be. I love you Callum. I always will.” A ruffle of clothing made Ezran think they were hugging.
“Thanks mom. It’s really good having you back.” Callum sniffled a little as he said that. “Come on, we should get out of here before Ezran finds out we ate all his jelly tarts.”
“YOU WHAT?!” Ezran shouted as he jumped out of the doorway.
“EZ!” Callum jumped to his feet, clearly shocked to see Ezran catching them in the act of stealing his precious morning tarts.
“Aw I needed those after staying up all night….” Ezran’s anguished cry petered out almost immediately as a familiar sensation exploded from within. The smile that spread across his face instantly inspired confusion in Callum and Sarai.
“Zym’s almost here!” Ezran shouted as he bolted for the courtyard to greet his winged friend for the first time in a year.
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