#a mishmash of fashion eras plus the hair is wrong

[serialsunset]

(Comparatively) historically accurate Charlotte!

[audreydoeskaren]

I don’t know if you do costume reviews for (parts of) dramas, but if you’d be interested, 玉楼春 /Yu Luo Chun/Song of Youth is set in the Ming Dynasty and looks like it might falls into the early end of your time periods of study. I think remo-ny’s blog on here has a number of stills from the show also if you just need costume visuals.

I've been hearing about 玉楼春 so much recently I'm dying to analyze its costumes! Thanks for requesting it.

Song of Youth (2021) 玉楼春

This is a new drama that just came out so I won't include a synopsis, it's just important to know for the costumes that it's supposed to be set in the Longqing era (1567-72). Since Longqing's reign was so short the costumes should be very specific to these couple years. However, seeing photos of the costumes on Tumblr and elsewhere they very much look like a mishmash of many different eras from the Ming and even Qing, so we'll have to look at some specific outfits. I'm generally more well versed with Qing and republican era fashion so unfortunately I won't be able to tell you exactly what Longqing era fashion looked like, though I can identify which outfits are not from the Longqing era. As usual, if I say anything wrong feel free to correct me, I’m just going for the general impression here.

Before we begin, I just have to say that I absolutely love the costumes in this show and the inaccuracies I spotted don’t necessarily detract from that. I think it’s a huge improvement to older dramas set in the Ming Dynasty and looks fabulous. All the screenshots are from their official (?) Youtube uploads.

From @remo-ny on Tumblr

This pretty much sums up the costuming in this drama. Everybody looks beautiful and great but in this shot you have three looks from three different centuries. The first outfit from the left looks very mid 18th century with the middle parted hair, 璎珞 yingluo necklace and the 立领长衫 long robe with standing collar plus sleeveless 褙子 beizi combo. The sleeve width and little embroidery patterns also scream Qianlong era, which isn’t even in the Ming Dynasty. If it had a 挽袖 wanxiu or folded cuff design at the sleeves, it would be a very historically accurate 1730s or 40s outfit, a far cry from the 1567-72 frame the drama is set in. 

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Screen from the early to mid 18th century showing very similar outfits.

The lady in the middle is probably wearing some variation of the outfit from this iconic painting. Interestingly, I still haven’t been able to find out when exactly this painting was made. If somebody knows please tell me I’m begging... It’s probably some time in the 15th century; I’m not sure but I think the chances of it landing in the Longqing era are pretty small.

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However, her hair has the early 17th century 三绺梳头 sanliushutou (coiffure in three sections) vibe going on, making the outfit rather anachronistic. The early 17th century clothes have been given to the lady to the right. My problem with the robe worn by the lady on the right is that the collar is too high; Ming collars weren’t meant to be worn folded so they should be significantly lower when they are folded.

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Late Ming illustration for the novel 醋葫芦 showing the giant front closing robe with huge sleeves and 三绺梳头 hairstyle.

The lady to the right sports a coiffure that’s either from the Qianlong era or worn by servant girls in the late Ming, neither of which are Longqing era.

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Qianlong era reverse glass painting showing the hairstyle with the sectioned middle part.

Wow this is really great!! She’s wearing a shirt/robe with a standing collar underneath a 圆领袍 yuanlingpao or round collar robe, which was appropriate ceremonial wear for some occasions. Again the collar looks too tall and somewhat forced, like they probably added hooks and eyes inside so it would stay folded like that, but in the 16th century you would usually not intentionally fold and even iron the collar. The embroidery on the outer robe looks more Qing than Ming to be frank? In the mid 16th century, fabrics with colored threads woven into them like 织金锦 gold brocade, 妆花 zhuanghua or 缂丝 kesi were still more popular than embroidery, which thickens the fabric and gives it a different texture. The women in the back are wearing gold brocade which is great, though I think robes with standing collars have become the norm in the mid 16th century already, so their clothes look a bit 15th century and outdated. Her headpiece is probably supposed to be a 狄髻 diji (狄 isn’t written like that but that character doesn’t exist in the language anymore), which is a very common and elegant headpiece for upper class Ming women but somehow never gets represented in other period dramas. A cookie for the costumer here. A diji is a conical headpiece made of metallic threads or fake hair which would be used as a base for various decorative pins. My only problem with the diji here is that it could be bigger and sit closer to the forehead, and the hair at the front could be pulled back tighter to show more of the forehead. The placement of the individual pins look correct, you have the long, horizontal piece at the bottom, the giant one in the middle, the round piece at the top and the smaller circular pieces at the sides. I’m not great with the terminology of each piece but here is a random diagram I found on the internet which looks legit.

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A generic diji.

Ok this Ming emperor look is legitimately the best I have ever seen in a drama. For once, they finally didn’t give him the annoying 帽正 maozheng (round jewel at the front of the hat) or a completely gold hat, which already elevates the costuming in this drama to a whole next level. The 双龙戏珠 shuaglongxizhu or two dragons playing with a ball motif is really unfussy and well done, with the correct materials, textures and placement for the time period. He has the red collar of the under robe which you sometimes see in portraits, and for the round collar robe they chose a 云肩 yujian (cloud collar) design which (correctly) extends down to the sleeves. Although I don’t think you would pair this particular hat with this kind of outfit? It would have been more standard to pair this hat with a 衮服 gunfu (or any garment with roundel motifs) instead, though it also depends on the occasion. I know nothing about Ming court dress regulations soooo I can just say that the clothes look good.

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Portrait of Emperor Longqing in a 衮服 gunfu. Contrary to popular belief the emperor wasn’t stuck with a yellow robe for life, he wore outfits in different styles and colors to different occasions.

The officials look fabulous, I’m living. They’re wearing 补服 bufu with colored 补子 buzi or square badges which were popular in the late Ming (not sure if the Longqing era was late enough for that though). There is also only one bird instead of two in the buzi, popular from the late Ming til the end of the Qing. Their belts and hats also look legit. The cut of the clothes and texture of the fabrics with the shimmering tone on tone decoration are just *chef’s kiss* perfection. Also can we just appreciate the sleeve length and shape here, it looks quite authentic; a lot of older dramas had sleeves that were way too short and straight. I just love that the costume designer didn’t add any unnecessary details and actually aimed for historical accuracy, a rare quality among Chinese period costumers indeed.

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Part of the painting 徐显卿宦迹图 from the adjacent Wanli era showing officials in bufu. You can see the emperor here wearing a similar robe to that from the previous scene but he pairs it with a white undershirt.

Yayy they also have 网巾 wangjin representation!! In the Ming, men would wear this gauze net tied at the back to keep their hair in place before putting on a hat or headdress. Though this particular style looks more like the style popular in Korea at the time? Chinese wangjin was bigger and covered more of the head instead of having this headband shape which was en vogue in Korea. Chinese wangjin was also usually worn higher than the Korean style, meaning it would be concealed when wearing hats.

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Illustration from 天工开物 showing working men wearing wangjin.

This must have been based on Wanli era artifacts, which means the time period isn’t far off. The collar here is way huge though, and the yingluo necklace is again 18th century. The pattern should also either extend down the sleeves or cover all of the fabric. The girl has bangs and loose hair but that’s excusable since she’s young. Children and teenagers could do almost whatever they wanted with their hair.

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Reproduction of a similar robe (with a rectangular collar) from Emepror Wanli’s tomb at Dingling.

This scene looks fabulous but it would’ve been better had the second lady from the right not worn the 披风 pifeng, which was more appropriate for the 17th century. Pifeng also started out as casual outerwear, so it would be less formal than the round collar robes the other ladies are sporting here.

OMG YESS they’re wearing hats!! It’s so great to finally see male characters with head coverings. Historically in China no respectable man would leave the house with his hair and head exposed. So some male characters are wearing headdresses while some aren’t, though in paintings from this period you usually see everybody unanimously wearing head coverings. Still great though and I especially love the variety of hats.

Famous incorrect coordination, in womenswear you shouldn’t pair a cross collar robe with a pifeng. Robes with standing collars were the norm when pifeng was popularized in the late 16th/early 17th century.

17th century portrait showing the mainstream coordination.

Another example from episode 2.

Ok with this we’re back to peak Qianlong era. Please stop doing this.

This outfit of this lady (not sure how to translate her title, she’s a high ranking consort) is in the right direction with the 大衫 dashan, 霞帔 xiapei and 翟冠 diguan (?) but I think it would be better with a standing collar underneath instead of a cross collar? I’m really bad with court dress.

This again feels like time travelling, albeit in the earlier direction. The short cross collar robe and puffy skirt read very much as 15th century.

Source see watermark

Portrait from the early Ming, presumably 15th century. I don’t know when exactly this was made but it was not the Longqing era.

If this were a drama set in the 1730s I would give the costuming 11/10. It perfectly captures the atmosphere of the early Qianlong era, and even thoughtfully gave the old lady a 抹额 mo’e, an accessory popular in the Kangxi/Yongzheng era to show the difference in age. No drama set in the Qing Dynasty has ever achieved such high levels of historical accuracy. Honestly though pifeng should never have been worn in the Longqing era and neither should yingluo, this tall hairstyle nor the floral trim at the pifeng collar.

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Painting from the series 雍亲王十二美人图 from the 1710s or 20s showing mo’e and the embroidered collar trim. I think the costuming here might be a reference to the 1987 adaptation of 红楼梦 Dream of the Red Chamber, which was set in the 18th century. People rave about the accuracy of costumes in that show but they were actually very generic, based off of Chinese theater costumes instead of historical artifacts, it’s just that Chinese theater costumes at the time happened to resemble 18th century clothing in some regards. Even then a show set in the 1560s shouldn’t reference a show set in the 18th century so literally.

To be completely honest with you, the main male character is very relentless and some scenes makes me semi uncomfortable (also I cannot relate to the romance because gay) so I don’t want to watch more of this drama. Let me offer some concluding remarks before coming to a rating.

The costumes in this drama are extremely well made. They obviously put a lot of effort into finding quality fabrics and materials. The color scheme is very comfortable and aesthetic to look at, desaturated but still colorful. I’ve heard some people say it’s too dark and depressing but you know what, I would take this over older period dramas that were either full neon colors or only brown and black with no in-betweens any day. The costumes here look very organic and realistic and actually resemble something historical people would wear. The extras also look really good here and their costumes are on the same level as the main characters.

In terms of historical accuracy, it is a massive improvement to, like, 99% of Ming Dynasty dramas that came before it. They managed to achieve the bare minimum of at least letting the audience recognize that it is obviously set in the Ming Dynasty and not some fantasy alternate universe, which, surprisingly, most dramas fail to do. They masterfully avoided a ton of costuming mistakes that most dramas set in the Ming Dynasty would normally make, such as loose, flowy hair, the round jewel on the hat, too short sleeves, golden hats and clothes for the emperor and skirts worn on top of robes for womenswear etc.. Yes my bar is very low.

There are of course major problems with the accuracy, especially the use of outfits from other parts of the Ming Dynasty and even the Qing (save those gorgeous costumes for a show set in the Qianlong era please), as well as a couple coordination faux pas, but overall it is so refreshing and satisfying to see and the time travelling could be overlooked. I absolutely adore how unfussy and straightforward the costumes are, the costume designer refrained from adding a shit ton of unnecessary details that are neither historical nor helpful to characterization. You can see that the designer had specific historical looks in mind when making the costumes and didn’t rely on stereotypical outfits from Chinese theater, which was traditionally how movie and drama costumes were designed.

I think this is a great starting point for Ming Dynasty costuming to become better at historical accuracy, I would rate it a 7/10.

In order to show you how refreshing the costumes here are, I’m gonna add some images from older Ming Dynasty dramas to give you an idea of just how shite the costumes looked.

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The hats have the round jewel and the trim decorations are just completely unnecessary and ugly. The buzi are miserably incorrect. The emperor struts around with exposed hair and a robe that makes him look like a 19th century actor.

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Loose hair, go away from me.

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This show tried to be historically accurate but failed miserably. Are the shoulder pads going for a Japanese menswear impression?

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Look at the womenswear wtf is going on!! Also you can smell the plastic and neon paints from across the screen when watching these older dramas.

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This show is childhood memory and awesome but just from the costumes I would not be able to tell that it was set in the Ming Dynasty at all.

Anyway the costumes in Song of Youth are great despite its problems and aesthetically speaking I would highly recommend this drama.

[sosthemortalcoil]

KoFi Request: Michael and Family Dinner (Dark F!Gabriel)

This is a sort of follow-up to a previous NSFW KoFi request.

Tone: Awkward, funny, black/edgy humor

Same Gabriel as the previous KoFi

Synopsis: Family dinner where Gabriel and Michael announce that she’s expecting their child.

A good relationship with Daniel and Lucifer

Bonus: She originally tried to shank Daniel

Humor isn’t my forte by any means, but I hope you enjoy it anon! Total word count is 5,223 words and if you would like a pdf or word document copy, let me know via private messages here or on discord! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael keeps looking back at you with wide, pleading eyes, tweaking the tie you had talked him into. He keeps complaining that if you wanted him collared and leashed there are more pleasant ways to go about it. You insisted on the tie; as fun as the other option is, it’s really not a topic you wish to broach with your father. Besides, he should know by now that you always get what you want. The color of his wings proves that your control over Michael is greater than even Heaven’s pull had once been.

“This seems like a bad idea,” he protests, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last. In the end, however, he’ll participate. Grumbling and fretting are how Michael shows he cares, even if it does occasionally grate on your nerves. The day he does something without some sort of token protest is the day you start to truly worry.

You reach up and retighten the tie, pointedly doing it with more force than you had previously. “Stop fussing.” The tone of your voice dares him to disobey.

Michael grimaces. “This is a cursed invention of humans,” he complains, flirting with the idea of disobedience without fully engaging with it. “Why would they wish to feel like there is a noose around their neck? Who decided that should be part of formal dress? At least cravats had some elegance to them.”

It’s your turn to pull a face. If you left Michael to his own devices, you don’t doubt that there would be some terrible mishmash of clothing from different eras and regions. And you’d only just disposed of the last Miami vice style outfit he had squirreled away. Falling hadn’t improved his fashion sense, sadly.

Rather than indulge him in his whinging, you simply say, “Relax,” and stroke over the back of his hair, noting that the locks are almost down to his collar. He’d chopped them off on an impulse, but since becoming involved with you was trying to grow it out again. Turns out Michael has a bit of a kink when it comes to having his hair pulled, which suits you perfectly. “It’ll be fine,” you reassure him.  

He leans into your touch. “You say that, but I remind you that based on my previous encounters with your father, fine is an exaggeration.” Considering everyone came out of it relatively intact and not too burnt, you think fine is an apt description. You didn’t have to replace any dishes or chairs, which was a fortunate event; no matter how recently you seemed to have acquired belongings, the moment you needed a replacement you could never find the exact item again.

There’s one sure way to distract Michael from his concerns, however, a recent development you have been using and abusing to your advantage. You take one of Michael’s hands and pull it to your stomach. “What do you think, sweetheart? Think your daddy is overreacting? I know I do,” you coo down at the faint bump.

It’s amazing how effective this behavior is at getting Michael to agree with you and stop all forms of whining. Being pregnant is an automatic win to every argument, not that you need it, but it’s amusing to see Michael turn into soft, gooey ball of emotions, unable to help himself. It’s endearing.

“They aren’t capable of that level of thought yet,” Michael grouses, even as he gets to his knees and presses his ear to your stomach. A grin creeps over your face, and you tousle his hair again.

“But they’ll be like daddy, I’m sure, and admit that mommy is always right,” you murmur, fingers trailing down to stroke over his cheek.

Michael grumbles some more, turning to press a kiss to your belly. You’re barely showing, but you want to tell the rest of your family before it gets to the point that it’s obvious it’s not just a few extra of Persephone’s cookies.

Especially because you’d rather no one level a city block upon finding out. The amount of paperwork that humans generate sometimes makes Heaven seem like an efficient machine in comparison, and that isn’t a compliment to either institution.

A timer starts going off, and you clap your hands together. “They’ll be here any minute. Daniel!” There’s a clatter, and your adopted son appears on the spiral staircase, dressed up in black slacks and a gray-green collared shirt that brings out his eyes.

“Yes mom?” You’ve come such a long way to have him call you that, from trying to remove what you thought was just another satanspawn from the earth to calling him your son.   

“Help me set the table, please,” you call as you bustle into the kitchen, hiding a fond smile. He’s a good boy, and often times more mature and dependable than Michael. Not that Michael doesn’t try, but if you want something done without twenty questions Daniel is your man. Not to mention, sometimes Michael still gets caught up in ‘that’s not how Heaven does it.’

While he understands that he’s yours, utterly and completely, he fails to understand that this city is under your dominion as well. The only higher power that rules here is you. Perhaps the difference is that Daniel has always used you as his moral compass, so adjusting to your laws is easy enough.

Michael had spent so long picking fights with you over the slightest issue that sometimes he would still balk at the way you handle problems. He’s learning, though, coming around to your way of view. It’s harder to teach a millennia old angel compared to a boy, but then again Daniel has always been an exceptional child.

That thought makes you pause. He is a young man, now, isn’t he? Not the scrawny, terrified boy you’d met that fateful day. Growing up and going out into the world, ready to make his mark. Your eyes flit to your stomach. Don’t humans have a word for this feeling? Empty nesters? Oddly accurate for Fallen, too. Idly you rub your stomach. Maybe you have grown accustomed to having a little one around.

Daniel enters the kitchen a moment later, moving carefully around you. He already knows about your pregnancy as it’s been impossible to keep Michael’s behavior from giving it away, and Daniel is far more perceptive.

However, it’s made it so that between the two of them, you’ve barely been able to lift anything lighter than a book without them fussing over you. At least Daniel listens to you without arguing when you insist on doing things yourself. You’re pregnant, not an invalid, and barely pregnant at that. If you don’t put your foot down now on the special treatment it’s only going to get significantly worse later. You know Michael. Going overboard is his modus operandi.

“You really think a dinner party with this family is going to go well?” Daniel asks as he pulls out plates and silverware, balancing them with a grace he’s only recently grown into.

“This family? You’re a part of this family, need I remind you,” you gently chide as you pull out the casserole and set it on top of the oven. The top is a light golden brown, almost as good as the picture next to the recipe you’d followed.

“Yep. Which is why I can call it a functional disaster,” Daniel retorts, gliding out of your reach as he moves to the dining table, setting out six place settings and flashing you a cheeky grin. “Things get done, sure, but rarely the way you expect them to or without something nearly catastrophic happening. Not to mention we’re like a bad joke setup.”

“Excuse me young man,” you call, hands on your hips, one eyebrow cocked in a pose you’ve coined as ‘disapproving mother.’ Even without saying anything, Daniel and Michael recognize they’ve done something wrong when you strike it, though depending on his mood, Michael has known to persist.

Turns out someone enjoys a little punishment, but now is not the time to be thinking about that. Definitely not with your father and siblings coming over.

Daniel gestures at Michael, who is standing poised like a statue in front of the front door waiting for the doorbell to ring, giving you a raised eyebrow in return. “Tell me I’m wrong. Satan, his daughter, and three angels—”

“Fallen,” Michael corrects, the word still full of a bitterness you haven’t shaken him out of yet.

You glance at your lover. “Just remember you’re stuck with this family,” you respond, avoiding the topic. Michael is a walking disaster all on his own and everyone knows it, even you. Of course, he’s your disaster and he has made great improvements. It’s a wonder what happens when you listen to others instead of stubbornly defending your position even when it’s glaringly obvious you have no ground to stand on. Only a few years, however, doesn’t quite begin to make-up for millennia of bad behavior.

Falling helped take him down a peg or two. He’s been much better behaved without an entire Heavenly Host watching him, ready to criticize any perceived weaknesses. Plus, you’ve learned ways to keep him leashed and obedient.

“For better or for worse,” Daniel chimes, smile soft. “Though, when your granddad’s the Devil, hard to top that.”

“You know he hates that moniker,” you scold.

“Not like he cares for Grandpa either,” Daniel replies impishly. Teenagers.

Shaking your head, you grab a few cork trivets and toss them towards Daniel. He catches them, laying them out on the table while you bring the casserole over. Another timer goes off. “Grab the mushrooms and put them on a serving platter please,” you say, heading towards the wine rack. While it’s difficult to get an angel drunk on human liquor, it won’t hurt to mellow moods, though you can’t partake.

You grab an old vine Zinfandel for Lucifer, and a sweeter Orange Muscat for Israfel. The latter isn’t really suited for the meal you made, but Israfel prefers sweet wines. Ramiel will drink whatever you put in front of him, and you have whiskey for after dinner, assuming you make it that far without anyone pulling an Angel Blade.

The doorbell rings.

Michael springs into action, smoothing his crisp ironed shirt once before jerking the front door open. The pleasant smile on his face evaporates as he stares into the chest in front of him.

“I forget you’re shorter in this form,” Ramiel rumbles, eyebrows raised in the precursor to an amused smirk.

“Sadly, while I can change my size there’s nothing to be done about your ego,” Michael snaps. Ramiel chuckles, musses Michael’s hair, and enters, pushing Michael aside.

“And here’s my favorite nestmate,” he says, spreading his arms for a hug. You set the wine on the table, letting Ramiel wrap his long arms around you. He pulls back, eyes going wide and eyebrows again shooting up. “Now I understand what the dinner is about. Got a bun in the oven, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ramiel. Everything is already out of the oven.” Michael sounds petulant, displeased by the brusque dismissal of your fellow Fallen.

“Oh Michael. Don’t ever change,” Ramiel replies, his condescending tone making your lover bristle.

“Anybody breaks anything other than bread in this house and I will kick your sorry feathers,” you threaten, wagging a finger at Ramiel. “And I don’t want to see any wings popping out. Save it for not in my home.”

Your most troublesome nestmate holds up his hands, feigning innocence. “Well, at least with Michael around you’ve already experienced the level of hand-holding and monitoring a kid requires.”

“I am not a child! Point in fact Gabriel is younger than me,” Michael pipes up.

“So that—”

“Ramiel,” you warn, knowing he was going to make another comment at Michael’s expense. “Is it really that amusing to battle wits with an unarmed opponent?”

“Sporting, no,” Ramiel says, pulling out a chair and sitting down, leaning back on two legs, ignoring your sigh. His grin is wide and unrepentant. “Entertaining? Most definitely.”

“Why did you insist on inviting him again?” Michael demands, sitting across from Ramiel and glaring daggers at your prank-prone nestmate.

“Because we can’t choose our family, and he’s part of it,” you say in a voice so sweet sugar has nothing on it. Both Michael and Ramiel appear to stop breathing, turning to look at you with wary eyes. Sometimes, you think, it’s easier to play nice. Makes them paranoid without you having to go through the effort of concocting a punishment or figuring out what to leverage to make them behave. Let their imaginations run wild thinking of what you might have up your sleeve.

“I see I’ve arrived just in time.” You look up to find Israfel has invited himself in, a much quieter entrance than Ramiel’s. He’s dressed with a kind of casual elegance, a long cream cardigan over a white ensemble that on anyone else would look over the top. On his long frame, however, there’s a dignity and grace that makes your attempt to dress Michael up look cheap. You glance over at your lover. At least he hasn’t clawed the tie off his neck yet, and for the most part it’s still straight.

“Israfel,” you greet, letting him sweep you into a hug. He kisses the top of your head, smiling fondly down at you.

“Hello little sister,” he greets. Things had been strained for a while after your Fall, but much of it had been mended when Israfel showed you his own black wings. If you weren’t in Heaven, then he didn’t want to be either. He still doesn’t approve of everything you do, but that’s one of the beauties of being Fallen; you can disagree without there being a wrong and right party, as there’s not much of a governing oversight on Fallen.

And what there is happens to be headed by your father, allowing you to quite literally get away with murder.

“It must be big news you have to share,” Israfel whispers, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Narrowing your eyes, you scowl at him.

“Why do I even bother?” you ask.

He shrugs. “The most oblivious party here is half-responsible for your current state, so I’m not certain. Perhaps you should sit down before your father arrives; I doubt you want him knowing before the food is at least served.”

Rolling your eyes—you aren’t fooled, you know he’s using it as an excuse to get you off your feet—you pull out the chair next to Michael and sit down.

Immediately you catch Ramiel’s troublesome grin, and groan.

“You know, Michael, humans may not be your favorite creature but even they are aware enough to make sure their pregnant mates have, say, their chair pulled out for them.” He swirls the wine he’d helped himself to around his glass, watching it with faux fascination, as if the conversation were of no importance.

Michael’s face goes white, a retort on his lips when Israfel sinks into a seat, hands folded neatly on the table in front of him, head tilted to the side. “Gabriel might not be quite as she once was, but she is no delicate human either,” he comments, reaching out and pouring himself a glass of wine, the color matching his ensemble well.

Daniel glances around, ensuring everything is out where it should be before he takes a seat as well, his eyes darting eagerly to the food.

“Great. We’re all here. Can we eat now?” Michael’s petulance is one of the few qualities that hasn’t markedly improved since falling, and you can practically hear the collective sigh everyone holds back.

“Still never learned to count, I see.” You don’t bother turning around, knowing full well who it is. Lucifer had this building built for you and you’ve long since stopped expecting him to enter through the front door like a normal visitor. He has a flair for the dramatic, and at least it’s not another Hellhound pup.

Speaking of which, you reach out with your foot, encountering other feet but no hound sneaking around for scraps.

 Michael pastes a smile on, his hands disappearing under the table. “Lucifer,” he greets. Ramiel gives Lucifer a two fingered salute, once again leaning his chair back. Israfel inclines his head to Lucifer, a gentle smile on his face.

“Oh good. You remember my name. I had feared that your memory might have been going along with your inability to count.”

“Dad, be nice,” you warn before gesturing to the open spot. “You are in his house.”

“A house I paid for, had built, and warded,” Lucifer responds, moving fluidly to his seat, seeming to simply pour himself into the chair without having to pull it out from the table. It’s a little disconcerting to watch but reminds you that he isn’t always so human in appearance.

“If you weren’t Gabriel’s father, she wouldn’t need half of these wards,” Michael points out.

“If I weren’t Gabriel’s father, you wouldn’t be here either,” Lucifer retorts. Israfel and Ramiel takes sips of their respective drinks, one resigned, the other amused. Michael opens his mouth to retort and you clear your throat. This could go on all night and you haven’t even gotten to share your news yet.

“So… can we eat before it gets cold?” Daniel asks, looking at you with large eyes. You give him a nod, and he immediately starts piling food on his plate. A curious phenomenon you had observed with teenagers, or at least the three who frequented your house for a long time, is that they eat far more than the average human, and yet never seem to feel full.

Being pregnant seems to be roughly equivalent to being a teenager, at least in terms of food consumption. You always seemed to be running by the stores, picking up groceries and whatever odd combination of food your unborn child seems to crave. One good thing about having Michael for a partner is that he’s unfamiliar with normal human cuisine and thus sees nothing wrong with combinations such as peanut butter on pickles and cheese with ice-cream.

Daniel has learned to be cautious when he hears the fridge open at odd hours lest his appetite be ruined. Watching him now, it seems like that would be an impossible feat, but you have seen it happen,

The table falls blissfully silent while food is served, everyone respecting the sanctity of a good meal—or the fact that you won’t hesitate to kick any of their asses if they don’t.

“Not that I don’t enjoy getting to sit down to a meal with my daughter,” Lucifer is the first to break the silence, “but I doubt you would get the entirety of the nest together just for family dinner. Something you want to share?”

It’s your turn to play innocent. “What, I can’t just enjoy a family meal? The family that Falls together, stays together don’t you know.” No one laughs at your joke, though Ramiel shakes his head in pity

You glance at Michael. Might as well tell him now, then. In the future you’ll have to schedule more family dinners, if only to prevent your nestmates from being suspicious. Being predictable has never been a compliment as far as your concerned. Predictable is only one step away from complacent, and with the kind of enemies you have, you cannot afford either, especially when you’re about to bring a new life into this world.

Michael shakes his head, jabbing with far more force than required at his food. You tilt your head. Michael flicks his gaze to Lucifer. You roll your eyes. Michael’s fork screeches painfully against the plate.

Lucifer clears his throat, gaze resting on the pair of you.

“I’m going to college!” Daniel’s announcement blessedly drags the attention of the group away from your and Michael’s silent argument.

“It’s not that far,” Ramiel comments. “It’s not like this is your last supper.”

Silence greets his comment.

“Oh come on! Last supper? I mean, sure, there’s only six of us total, but I mean we’ve got the King of Hell himself so it’s like—like some sort of hellish version.”

You reach over and pat his arm. “Ramiel, dear, if you have to explain it… it’s not funny.”

“It was better than yours,” he mutters, retreating behind his wine glass.

“Didn’t you know that human?” Michael asks, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.

“‘That human,’ Michael, was one of the most brilliant minds humanity has ever hosted, I’m sure in no small part to his personal muse,” Lucifer comments, smiling at you. “My daughter is quite the inspiring force.”

“But it’s a rather strange painting don’t you think? First of all, it’s not accurate at all to the region or the time period he’s attempting to paint, and then everyone is gathered on one side of the table—that would be terribly awkward and far overcrowded and—”

Daniel clears his throat. “Anyways, since I’m going off to college, we thought this would be, uh, a nice way to send me off.”

“But you’ll be back,” Michael states, brow furrowed, successfully derailed from his rant but now busy trying to apply his brand of logic to Daniel’s statement. Daniel glances at you for help. Subtlety is not Michael’s strong suit. “It’s not like you’re dying or anything. By my understanding humans can live for a century or so now. And you aren’t human, so you’ll be around for longer than that. I mean, you survived Gabriel.”

The smack to Michael’s arm isn’t gentle.

“And what does that mean?” you inquire, head tilted to one side, a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. Michael’s eyes widen, recognizing danger in the faux sweet smile you flash him.

“Nothing, dearest.” You turn back to your food and manage to get a bite in before Michael opens his mouth and sticks in his left foot, his right foot, and all six of his wings.

“Well, not nothing. I mean, you did try to kill him when you first met.”

You can feel your left eye twitch. “So I did,” you state placidly, taking your napkin and dabbing at your lips.

Israfel reaches for the wine and refills his glass. Ramiel reaches for another helping of food. Lucifer leans back in his chair, though unlike Ramiel he keeps all four feet of the chair solidly on the ground, watching with amusement, while Daniel looks between the two of you as if to play referee.

“And the fact that you can go from nearly obliterating him at first meeting to having him reach the age of legal majority by which human laws state he is now responsible for himself is a feat that should be celebrated. He’s—”

You hold up your index finger. “I’m not the only one who tried to kill him.”

“Well, no, of course not. But you were never very good at the whole loyal to Heaven bit and following orders. I mean, there’s a reason you Fell.”

Israfel drains his glass. Ramiel arches an eyebrow. “There’s a reason all of us here have Fallen,” he points out, for once acting like the voice of reason. “At least Gabriel Fell of her own choice. You were the whipped one who couldn’t stand to live without her. So really, who has the greater reason for Falling? Gabriel because of her beliefs? Or you because of love?”

“Thank you, Ramiel,” you say in a brittle tone. He shrugs, and then continues because he’s never known when to stop.

“Look, I know to knock on your door for a reason now because, well, if you weren’t already Fallen, I don’t know, seeing some of the things you two get up to—”

“THANK YOU, RAMIEL.” Your voice is louder this time. Daniel is staring fixedly at his plate, and Michael is gawping next to you.

“When did he—?” your lover demands, turning to you.

“He’s not the only one,” Daniel mumbles. “If brain bleach were a thing…”

Thoroughly scandalized, Michael turns to Daniel. “I would have noticed if you walked in!”

“I’m pretty sure the time I stopped by you were too busy on your knees,” Israfel adds, one elegant finger flicking out to the side. “Your windows aren’t nearly as one-way as you think they are.”

Michael looks apoplectic, his skin turning an interesting shade of mauve. “Excuse me?” he demands, starting to come out of his seat.

“Oh please, sit down. It’s not like those of us with wings haven’t seen all that and more,” Lucifer replies, sounding bored. “Just because you thought it was kinky to hold hands doesn’t mean that the rest of us live under a rock. Good thing you live on earth; I think Hell would make you combust on the spot.”

“I did—holding hands—I know what sex is!”

“I’m glad you know what sex is. I hope for my daughter’s sake you’re at least passable at it.”

It’s your turn to want to sink into your seat. This is not a conversation that you wanted to have happen. Ever.

“More than passable,” Michael snaps. “In fact, if we—”

“Why is this a conversation for a family dinner?” Daniel asks you with desperate eyes, his voice raised to cut across Michael.

“Because this family is literally from Hell?” Ramiel supplies. He winces abruptly, and glares at Israfel who hasn’t appeared to move at all.

“Not from Hell,” Lucifer corrects, taking a bread roll, completely unperturbed by any of the topic changes. “I might rule it, but we are all from Heaven. Except for Daniel, but he’s the least disastrous one here.”

“Dad!” It’s your turn to be shocked, staring at your father in betrayal.

“You picked him,” Lucifer says mildly, gesturing to Michael with his bread roll. He rips it in half, sets half down, and then rips the half into quarters. “Daniel had no choice in the matter. That, my dearest, makes you a bigger disaster than him.”

“And how did I earn disaster?” Israfel asks, blinking at the King of Hell.

“Guilty by association,” Lucifer comments. “You would think after a few millennia some of your tranquility would have rubbed off on this lot, but they seem impervious to it.”

This time he gestures to you, your lover, and Ramiel.

“Ramiel is like a brick wall; oblivious to almost everything,” you point out dryly.

“If I’m a brick wall, I hate to think what that makes Michael,” Ramiel retorts, lips twitching up. Oh. No.

“Don’t you—”

“I mean but at least he knew he was in love with you. What do you call someone who doesn’t notice that for—”

The rest of Ramiel’s sentence is lost as a bread roll smacks him in the middle of his obnoxious gob. The smirk that he’s wearing as he catches the falling bread roll is almost worse, however.

“At least nothing is on fire?” Daniel supplies with a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Daniel, if you’re considered normal, it is in spite of all of us,” Israfel informs him drolly.

“Normal is overrated. Besides, next to Josie? I think just about anyone could be considered normal,” Daniel responds.

You preemptively reach over and step on Michael’s toes to prevent something uncouth from pouring out of his mouth.

Michael looks affronted, but it’s better than the alternative.

Lucifer yawns, and shakes the empty wine bottle. “So, are we going to get to the elephant in the room or not?”

Everyone else exchanges glances, you hunting for the source of the leak and finding wide-eyed innocence—Daniel—resigned sibling apathy—Israfel—a mixture of amusement and the knowledge that he’s going to get in trouble no matter what he does—Ramiel—and finally panic verging on stubborn refusal—Michael.

“There’s no pachyderm in the room, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ever predictable, Michael,” Lucifer comments with a sigh, elegant fingers wrapped around the stem of his goblet. That’s not the dishware you had set on the table to begin with, but you’ve been around Lucifer long enough to cease being surprised by his quirks, such as altering his surrounding to suit his aesthetic. The first few times he had visited you had found various pieces of furniture changed, or one time, an entire painting that hadn’t been there before. You kept the latter—Da Vinci holds a special place in your heart, and you were the inspiration behind it.

“How?” you ask.

Lucifer arches one elegant eyebrow. “How? My dear, I have been around since before any of you were even a thought. I’ve observed worlds come into existence and be snuffed out. I’ve even been pregnant before—the signs are not difficult to discern.”

He lifts his glass, liquid filling it from the bottom up, a deep blood red wine. “Not to mention that you forget that the wards on this building keep auras and the like undetectable from those on the outside. I could feel my grandchild the second I entered the building.”

“My child,” Michael corrects, scowling.

“Ours,” you say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“Hopefully they take after their mother and not their father,” Lucifer says, draining his glass. “And you’ve known I’m Gabriel’s father longer than anyone, Michael. You can’t deny I’m part of the family. In fact, I think humans might even consider me your father-in-law.”

The horror on Michael’s face makes you sigh. Back to zero.

“You’re a Fallen now, Michael. There’s no Host to condemn you for dating the ‘Devil’s’ daughter. Hell, I wager there’s a few Fallen who would envy your position.” Lucifer’s eyes flick to Ramiel.

Ramiel clears his throat and sinks down in his chair.

“Alright, enough. Michael, get over it.” Michael turns to you, and you look at him with narrowed eyes.

“I’m Fallen. You’re Fallen. Everyone here has black wings. Pointing fingers is literally like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Cookware doesn’t speak.”

You can feel an impending headache.

“On the plus side, since Michael is pure Fallen, he doesn’t require sleep like you.” Lucifer’s smirk is wicked. “So every midnight crying, every two am feeding… I think that’s his by default.”

You perk up. “That’s a very good point father,” you say, pleased to see that no one has appropriated the cutlery for a preemptive strike.

Israfel quirks his lips. “Would a onesie with the word’s Little Angel be considered ironic then?” he wonders.

A laugh, perhaps a tinge hysterical, bubbles from your lips. It spreads, Ramiel starting to chuckle, then Daniel, Lucifer, Israfel’s light lyrical chuckle, and lastly even your mate.

“This isn’t funny,” Michael tries to say while trying to contain his own laughter.

 You shrug. “Matter of perspective, love. I prefer puns to fireballs.”

“Oh don’t be silly,” Lucifer comments. “I want dessert first, and then I might threaten to introduce Michael to a few of the old, extraplanar creatures that go bump in the night. Burnt feathers is a smell that doesn’t come out of your clothes easily.”

Michael’s laughter stops completely. “That was a joke, right?”

Lucifer tilts his head and smiles. “I guess we’ll see.”