Isaac Newton - Tumblr Posts

this ur man? 🤨

@azulashengrottospiano

YOU GUYS NEED TO LEAVE ISAAC ALONE HES DONE NOTHING WRONG IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE

“Atheism is so senseless. When I look at the solar system, I see the earth at the right distance from the sun to receive the proper amounts of heat and light. This did not happen by chance.”

—Isaac Newton

“Genius is patience.”

—Isaac Newton

“If I have done the public any service, it is due to my patient thought.”

—Isaac Newton

“Plato is my friend; Aristotle is my friend, but my greatest friend is truth.”

—Isaac Newton

“As a blind man has no idea of colors, so have we no idea of the manner by which the all-wise God perceives and understands all things.”

—Isaac Newton

IkeVamp Quiz: Who's your Vampire Beau?

You can take the quiz here

I was expecting to get Da Vinci (genius x sly adult) or Newton (contrarian x hidden wolf) because:

1) I like Da Vinci's design

2) I was so surprised to like Ieyasu a lot on IkeSen that I want to give Newton a try

But that's what I got...

Hot. Loved the hair and those blue eyes... 🤤 And I looked up about him

Guess it's the sadist then! 🤗

Have Any Aspects of Daniel’s Seventy-Week Prophecy Been Fulfilled?

By Author Eli Kittim 

To begin with, here’s an excerpt from my book, The Little book of Revelation: 

“The rebirth of Israel marks a turning point in apocalyptic expectations, and Christ’s message concerning end-time events seems to point toward this 1948 prophetic countdown: 

‘Truly I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place’ (Matt. 24.34). 

But what on earth does he mean by this? In order to comprehend this terse remark, we must inquire into the standard time limit of a Biblical generation. The Book of Psalms makes known that a generation is equal to seventy actual years (90.10). Similarly, a noteworthy Hebrew soothsayer named Jeremiah exclaims that the Deity will intervene in earthly affairs after a seventy-year period has elapsed (25.12). Daniel, one of the most prominent seers of the Jewish Scriptures, also claims that the Deity has appointed a portent which consists of a seventy-week interval until the conclusion of all things is finalized (9.24). Among scholarly circles, this prophecy is known as The Seventy Weeks of Daniel… . The proof is found in a revered text called the Book of Daniel. In a vision, ‘The man [named] Gabriel’ appears before Daniel to grant him ‘insight with understanding’ (9.21-22). The angelic man imparts a cryptic scriptural clue which, in effect, equates the seventy weeks of Daniel with the seventy-year oracle revealed to Jeremiah (Dan. 9.2; cf. Jer. 29.10)… . Gabriel is basically showing us that the seventy years of Jeremiah’s prophecy must continue to be calculated as years within Daniel’s seventy weeks’ oracle. Clearly, more specific details are ultimately furnished by Daniel’s seventy-week vision, but the reason why Jeremiah’s seventy years are now termed as weeks is for the purpose of allowing us to perform calculations using weeks as the standard of measuring time in addition to using actual years. Taken together, both prophecies refer to an actual seventy-year period whose completion will signal the end of the world (Dan. 9.24). But the details at the micro level entail calculations, which combine measurements in both weeks and years.” 

As I will show, Daniel’s seventy weeks’ prophecy refers exclusively to the end-time and has nothing to do with the time of Antiquity. A common misconception is to assume that the starting point of this prophecy began after the Hebrews returned from the Babylonian exile during the 500’s B.C.E. However, there are many problems with this theory. For one, the Babylonian exile didn’t last for 70 years. Historically, if the first deportation came after the siege of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar II in c. 586 BCE, and the Jews returned to Judah in c. 538 BCE & began to rebuild the second temple in Jerusalem in c. 537 BCE, according to the Book of Ezra, then the Jews were actually held in Babylonian captivity for approximately 48 years, not 70! Thus, Jeremiah’s prophecy (29.10) is seemingly referring to the end-times Babylon of Revelation 18 (cf. Dan. 9.2). And that’s precisely what we find in the 70-week prophecy of Daniel. Daniel’s prophecy actually refers to the end of all visions and revelations, an end-time period that will in effect “seal both vision and prophet” (Dan. 9.24). The fact that John of Patmos continued to furnish us with additional visions and revelations many years later proves that the interim between the Babylonian exile and the coming of Christ in or around 30 CE cannot possibly be the timeline of Daniel’s prophecy. John MacArthur, in describing Dan.9.24, was once quoted as saying: “It’s got to be a final thing cause everything is a final… . Boy, that’s final stuff, isn’t it? The end, the finish, the seal, seal it up, close it up, that’s the way it is!” If it is “final stuff,” then the prophecy cannot possibly be referring to the time of Antiquity but rather to the time of the end! Note also that this prophecy refers to “times of distress” (Dan. 9.25 NASB), a phrase which is also used to refer to the time of the end (Dan. 12.1 NASB). 

The traditional Christian interpretation is further compounded by breaking up the prophecy into two parts: one part fulfilled during the time of Antiquity, the other referring to the last week of the great tribulation. In other words, exegetes assume that there is a two thousand-year gap between the so-called “sixty nine” weeks and the seventieth week. However, there is no indication of a long time-gap between these weeks, but rather a successive sequence of events, thus rendering the expositors’ imposition on the text unwarranted: 

‘Seventy weeks are decreed for your people and your holy city: to finish the transgression, to put an end to sin, and to atone for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal both vision and prophet, and to anoint a most holy place. Know therefore and understand: from the time that the word went out to restore and rebuild Jerusalem until the time of an anointed prince, there shall be seven weeks; and for sixty-two weeks it shall be built again with streets and moat, but in a troubled time. After the sixty-two weeks, an anointed one shall be cut off and shall have nothing, and the troops of the prince who is to come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary. Its end shall come with a flood, and to the end there shall be war. Desolations are decreed. He shall make a strong covenant with many for one week, and for half of the week he shall make sacrifice and offering cease; and in their place shall be an abomination that desolates, until the decreed end is poured out upon the desolator’ (9.24—27 NRSV). 

 Here are some further observations excerpted from my book, The Little Book of Revelation: 

“The terminology of Daniel’s prophecy suggests that we must use both weeks and actual years in calculating the Messiah’s advent within the overall context of the seventy-year time period… . Many experts have erred in their interpretations by either attributing the starting date of these prophecies to the period of time when the Jews returned to Palestine from their Babylonian captivity – sometime between roughly 538 and 536 B.C. – or by separating them (Jeremiah’s seventy years and Daniel’s seventy weeks) as if they are two mutually exclusive oracles that employ different calculation techniques. 

 At any rate, if we resume our discussion of Christ’s prophecy (Matt. 24.34)—as mentioned earlier in this section—the issue of the seventy-year generation will now become immediately apparent. Jesus is indicating that it will take one generation since the rebirth of Israel ‘until all these things take place’ (Matt. 24.34; cf. 1 Thess. 4.15). Modern Israel, then, becomes the preeminent sign as regards the end of days.” 

I should mention parenthetically that the original text was written without punctuation, thus making it difficult to determine where commas and periods should be placed. For example, some inferior translations of Dan. 9.25 do not separate the seven and sixty-two weeks, thus giving us the wrong impression that they comprise sixty nine weeks. However, the more accurate versions (e.g. NRSV; ESV) do properly separate them, implying that they represent two distinct time periods. Isaac Newton—in his Observations Upon the Prophecies of Daniel (published 1733)—notes that we should not combine the seven and sixty two weeks as if they were one number. That is a spot-on interpretation by Newton. Quite frankly, if the authorial intent was to impress upon us the notion that the numbers seven and sixty-two must be combined, using the same measurements, the author would have simply written sixty nine weeks. The fact that two sets of numbers are given in the text suggests that they are distinct. 

What is more—in stark contrast to the mainstream view—Newton also mentions in the aforesaid book that Daniel’s seventy weeks prophecy should not be confined to the time of Antiquity, but must be applicable to Christ’s eschatological coming. Just like in Revelation 12.3—4 in which the final empire is contemporaneous with Christ—(i.e. “a great red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns … stood before the woman who was about to bear a child, so that he might devour her child as soon as it was born”)—so in Dan. 9.26 the two princes of Daniel’s prophecy are juxtaposed to suggest that they are contemporaries: ‘After the sixty-two weeks, an anointed one shall be cut off and shall have nothing, and the troops of the prince who is to come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary. Its end shall come with a flood, and to the end there shall be war. Desolations are decreed’ (NRSV). According to the text, there does not appear to be a two-thousand-year gap separating these two figures or events. Moreover, the Old Greek Daniel form of the Septuagint (LXX) says in Daniel 9.27, ἕως καιροῦ συντελείας, (i.e. “until the time of the end”; cf. Dan. 12.4 LXX), indicating that the context of this verse is clearly eschatological. 

 First of all, Dan. 9.24—26 predicts the return of the Jews to Palestine, which occurred in 1948 (cf. Isa. 11.11). It also forecasts the atoning sacrifice of a forthcoming Messiah, an event which, according to the Danielic text, has not yet occurred. Furthermore, Dan. 9.26 informs us that the Messiah will be ‘cut off,’ which in Biblical terminology means slain (cf. Prov. 2.22; Ps. 37.9). In working out these calculations, one comes to realize the approximate date signifying the epoch of the forthcoming Messiah. So, if we apply Jesus’ prophecy (i.e. ‘this generation will not pass away until all these things take place’; Matt. 24.34) to Jeremiah’s seventy-year time frame (Dan. 9.1—3; cf. Ps. 90.10), we get one generation of seventy years after the rebirth of Israel (1948), which would bring us to 2018 CE! 

Surprisingly, a different calculation yields similar results. On June 7, 1967, Jerusalem (the holy city) was captured by Israel. Even if 1967 becomes the starting point of a different calculation, the result is identical. For instance, the seven weeks can be measured in weeks of years (cf. Gen. 29.27-28; Lev. 25.8), whereas the sixty-two weeks could be calculated using only days (cf. Lev. 23.15—16). Thus, the ‘seven weeks’ may represent fifty years (e.g. a jubilee), whereas the ‘sixty-two weeks’ would signify a period of approximately one year plus two and one-half months. In other words, both measurements would equal to 51 years in total. This is how the calculation looks like if we take Jerusalem as our starting point: 1967 + 50y (7 weeks) = 2017 + 1y (62 weeks) = 2018! Once again, we arrive at the same date (i.e. 2018), namely, one generation of seventy years after the rebirth of Israel! In fact, from June 7, 1967 to August 21, 2018 or thereabouts is approximately fifty one years and two and one-half months, using a 365-day calendar, which is the equivalent of seven weeks of years plus sixty two weeks of days. Could this be the initial fulfillment of the prophecy? Or is it perhaps the year 2019 or 2020, given that the prophecy must be fulfilled *after* the seventy years have elapsed? This would bring us to the starting point of the end-times, namely, 2019, in which began a terrifying era for the human race. 2019 brought about pandemics, lockdowns, passport mandates where “no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark” (Rev. 13.17), mass media censorship, mass hysteria & psychosis, the abolition of human rights, the totalitarian global control of the masses, the mass protests, and the starting point of the so-called “Great Reset” that has been planned by the elite & the heads of governments for some time. Whichever it is, the Bible warns us to be vigilant:

‘From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see all these things, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away’ (Matt. 24.32—35).

Who’s winning the anime girl Isaac Newton off

Saying that Newton was asexual is not a fact, but an opinion based on what we know about his personal life. However, one of the reasons why I consider that asexual people find him relatable is because there are lots of individuals on the Internet who either mock him or doubt that he remained a virgin for the rest of his life, despite the fact that Newton was actually very proud of himself for that.

There's this mentality that a man has to lose his virginity as soon as possible and sleep with many women (or at least visibly show his sexual desires and urges) because otherwise he would be considered a "loser". So seeing a man being proud of his lack of sexual attraction can be easily perceived as eldritch curiosity.

William Blake didn't have to paint Isaac Newton naked, but he did that anyway. Now I'm going to calculate the radius of curvature of that gluteus maximus.

It is very adorable

(Ikesen and Ikevamp) Sorry if this has been asked before. But how about an MC who went back to her own time only to find out she was pregnant. How would the boys reaxt if she comes back somehow a few years later but with a young child she says is theirs.

im sorry for keeping u waiting this long anon huhu,, i only did the vamps but, if my askbox allows, i’ll come back to do the sen boys too ! i didn’t have a specific gender for their children so jus imagine the lil rascal any way u want

Napoleon Bonaparte

When you come back through that door with a fascinated child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

He literally has no words when you smile gently, saying it’s his. Napoleon swallows the bump in his throat before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“I.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, nununche,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

As a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either. But he tries — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you catch them in a compromising position, usually when you see your child holding a foil with a goofy smile.

“Nunuche.. I can explain,” Napoleon says calmly when you first find the two of them — well, three; it seems Jean was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you — parading around the training room with the foils.

“Mamma, papa said he was the King! He teached me how to be King!” Your child exclaims, flailing the weapon around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“Well, you see, I meant emperor, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with the murderous intent he’s so used to fighting against on the battle field

Slowly kneeling down to meet your child’s eyes, you see him whispering something incoherent before the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the foil.

Then, as if counting down ‘3, 2, 1′, Napoleon immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“Napoleone di Buonaparte, get your ass back here right now!” You scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — Vive L’Empereur!” The two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. They’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“That child is.. mine?” He asks, slightly jaw-slacked, pointing at the child that undeniably looks like him, if the identical beauty mark or violet eyes are anything to go by.

“Do you.. not want—”

“I never said that,” he instantly cuts you off, going over to kneel at the confused child. With a slight smile, in an attempt to hold his tears back, he manages, “So.. how was spending time with that clumsy mother of yours?”

Mozart doesn’t really know how to spend time with his child, though he’s clearly not opposed to carrying the little rascal around on his shoulders, or dragging the child clinging onto his leg around when stubbornness bites.

You often don’t know what he’s thinking whenever he spends time with your child, or the whole situation, but rest assured, he wouldn’t change it for the world, despite how he may look.

A clear example of this is when you once walked into the piano room only to see your little darling on top of the grand white piano itself, snoozing on top of a small comforter whilst your lover plays the soft tunes you’ve grown to love.

Shock holds you captive as you stare at the lovely sight, before finally trailing off, “Mozart..”

Without so much as glancing at you, he replies, voice hushed in a soft tone you don’t hear so often. The blissful smile on his face speaks thousands of words.

“I thought you were the only one foolish enough to let your guard down in front of me… It seems I was wrong.”

Leonardo da Vinci

He had an inkling the moment he saw the child sporting caramel eyes so similar to his own, tawny gaze regarding the large mansion with wonder.

And when you did reveal that the child is actually his, he only pulled you close to his chest, hoisting the little one up with his other arm.

“Papa has a lot of time to make up to you, doesn’t he?”

Leonardo is good with children, if it isn’t obvious. Not in your conventional dad way wherein he brings the child to school — in fact, he probably fell asleep in the hallway just when the two were about to leave — but he's awfully good at keeping his child entertained.

Running around the mansions, creating new inventions, learning a new language — sometimes, you have to remind yourself that this child’s father is literally Leonardo da Vinci.

A position you often see them in, however, is snoozing on the floor, probably near the library, your child a small ball curled into Leonardo’s arms and head in the crook of his neck.

“Again? Really?” You can only huff, though that doesn’t stop the small smile from spreading on your face as you brush the locks of hair out of your lover’s face.

“Cara mia,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping your wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

He starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his, and he’ll have to be comforted by yours and your child’s tiny arms before he even plans to stop.

“Ah, crying like that on our first meeting… Don’t you think your fath — I’m a bit embarrassing?” He asks, sniffling as he musters a smile.

Your child giggles, blue eyes crinkling. “No! Mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

He has to stop himself from sobbing again.

Arthur wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, and every single day is one you’d find the two of them either in town or messing about at home.

If not, then they’re probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what. The day you peek in to see what exactly they were up to was a blessed day.

Maneuvering yourself in a way that lets you see through the tiny crack of the open door, your jaw drops at the adorable sight of your child in a tiny deerstalker and trench coat far too big for his form, Arthur nodding with a serious look on his face.

“So, Watson, do you think the crepes will make mummy happier?” Your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up — one you’re sure is from Leonardo — like a mic in front of Arthur’s face.

He strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “Seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, I deduce she does, Sherlock.”

“Good dedoo – deduck – deduction, Watson! I thought so too.”

Your heart literally melts. The two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. Dorks. 

Vincent van Gogh

When you meet those familiar, cerulean eyes from your place in front of the door, they’re already glossy in seconds, a flurry of emotions clear on Vincent’s face, though his smile says it all.

“Is it too much to say I’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

Vincent would be practically wallowing in regret that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, leading him to do any and everything that will cause his child to smile. In simpler terms, he’s basically wrapped around the little one’s finger.

He’s so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, and there’s an immediate smile on his face when he so much as thinks about the little blondie.

He literally makes the other residents question whether or not they want a child too.

Their bonding time is painting and, more often than not, it ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“I’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” Vincent’s soft voice only makes you sigh in relaxation as he massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some blue paint off your child.

“It’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and looking up into his bright eyes.

Your lips were just about to meet, when —

“Mam, I’m not clean yet!”

You groan, Vincent only laughing as you meet the crossed arms of your child pouting child.

“Don’t give your mammie too much of a hard time, okay?” He never forgets to take care of you above all, of course.

Theodorus van Gogh

When he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, Theo has to literally disappear to cool his head off because he’s angry.

Not at you, no, never, but at himself. That he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Hon — Schatje,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy hair and staring at you with eyes that practically bleed insecurity, his voice breaking. “How am I supposed to take care of a child when I couldn’t even take care of you?”

After many reassuring words and gentle touches, Theo’s finally okay, holding up and scrutinising your child much like how he does a painting. He’s, well, awkward.

Theo is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He’s also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks that much either, so out of the residents, he’d be one of the better fathers.

“Nee.” “Papje, pleaaase?” “No. Non. Nee.”

Your lover’s fixed refusal causes you to peek your head into a lovely picture. Theo was holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child with his puppy dog eyes in full view.

“Je mama said no chocolate, right?” Your heart warms when you realise he remembered your scoldings, though you can’t help but to feel bad for your whining baby.

“Theo,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “How about you give the little baby some chocolate and we all enjoy the pancakes, yeah?”

The way both their eyes shine almost identically is adorable.

Dazai Osamu

When you showed up again with the child in hand, one he knows is his, his first thought, first wish, is that for that tiny thing to not be his. Because no one knows how harsh this world is more than the man who wished to end it all, so much more than once.

But Dazai makes up his mind when he sees you and your — his child staring up at him with those eyes that look so much like your own. He makes up his mind, despite his own continuous suffering, that he’ll never let this child go through what he had to.

“Was I staring too much?” He smiles, slightly sad and, well, empty. “I suppose it’s because the little one looks far too much like you.” Bright. Too bright for me.

As a father, he’s surprisingly really good with children? He quite enjoys seeing your child smile more than anything, and one way he knows how to do so is by perching the little one on his shoulders, running around the mansion as his hands intertwine with small, tiny fingers.

You don’t know whether to yell at him and his close-eyed grin, or simply laugh at the resonating giggles of your child. Probably both as you chase the two down the halls.

Dazai often zones out whenever he’s playing with your child, a look you can only describe as pure bliss on those handsome features of his. As you stare up at him, confusion clear on your features, you ask, “Hey, Dazai, why do you.. Zone out so much? Whenever you’re with, you know,” you motion to the snoozing one in between the both of you.

“Why do I zone out, you ask?” He gives you a smile, a real one this time, and gently pokes at the little ones cheeks. “I think.. I’ve found a wonderful reason to live, is all.”

Isaac Newton

“That’s… mine??” “That?” “... It?” “It?” “The.. child?”

Isaac is very flustered, for lack of better terms. He can barely manage the children he and Napoleon go see intermittently, but his own child? Lord, help him.

He gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the mansion because even then, he isn’t spared by Arthur and Dazai’s teasing remarks — in fact, it only seems to have gotten worse.

Isaac is surprisingly good at getting your rascal child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his unsaid rambles.

“And did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing Uncle Dazai and Uncle Arthur?”

Your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and toothy grin showing. “Daddy also said, ‘Get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

Your accusatory gaze turns towards Isaac, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead.

“I-In my defense, they were—”

“One more time, Isaac, and I’m changing this baby’s legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love so much.”

Gaping, his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He is now a grumbling mess when the two are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around with a stick in hand can be counted as an upgrade.

Jean d’Arc

When you walk through that door once more, nervously telling your lover that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction — after all, Jean is, despite his vampiric aging, barely an adult himself.

His jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child with his inky locks, and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“Papa?” Your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked Jean as you hold your breath.

He stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “Yes, little one?”

He’s extremely unaccustomed to this whole parent thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

Although he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well, you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is.

Jean, well, looks ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

He utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin.

“Is this.. how it’s like to be happy?”

William Shakespeare

When Shakespeare wakes up to the news that you are, in fact, back at the mansion with a little surprise, he’s already there in no time.

He didn’t expect the little surprise to be a little child that’s practically an identical copy of him. But he’s always been more of a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy, so he immediately whisks you off to his manor, much to the exasperation of the residents who were surprisingly enjoying their time with the little Shakespeare lookalike.

Except he doesn’t really need to ask questions, because he’s already figured everything out through your soft, slightly nervous gaze, and your lovely little mannerisms.

“Alas, it seems the Heavens were kind enough to grant my wish,” he says as he stares at your child, only smiling to meet your confused gaze. “For I only wished you weren’t too lonely without my presence.”

William is always with his child, whatever the circumstances. Though he quite enjoys showing off his child, he’s also keen on spending his every waking second with the little tyke because he knows how it feels like to grow up lonely, and he wouldn't bestow that upon his own little one.

“Darling, it appears I has’t gotten myself into a slight predicament.”

If you could, you would have snapped a picture of your smiling lover practically itching to get up, yet unable to do so due to the sleeping child in his lap.

“And how did you get yourself into this predicament, my love?” You tease, your own smile on your face. He has a habit of reading his writings aloud, and it seems the little one fell asleep to William’s gentle voice.

“My works seem to be but a mere bedtime story to this little one,” he motions to the child, his smile softening. “I wonder why it does not dishearten me.”

Comte de Saint-Germain

“I was hoping you’d be back, ma chérie.” His perfunctory smile betrays the inner flurry of emotions inside him as he glances towards the child. “With a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, and the surprise outlining his normally composed face is something you’d forever save in your mind.

Comte is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

Many times have you asked Sebastian the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

Then, to finally put a stop to it all, you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

Placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. After explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

Unsurprisingly for you, your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“And what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” He asks, honest-to-god confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s form.

You smile softly, “Isn’t it obvious, silly? The little rascal loves you more than anything.”

His eyes are suspiciously glossy before he laughs it off, preparing for yet another shopping spree — you regret everything.

Sebastian

He only gives you a knowing smile when you pass through the door with a young child gripping your hand.

“So.. this is the little one, is it?” He asks, tone soft as he walks towards you, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and meeting eyes with his child. “I’m a strict father, mind you.”

“Sebastian!” “I was joking. Slightly.”

Despite being a father, Sebastian is as strict and precise as ever around the mansion, rarely having to leave either his work or his family unattended due to his impeccable time management skills.

And if he struggles with both, well, he just has to merge them into one task, doesn’t he? Many are the times wherein the residents catch Sebastian working, his little runt on his tail or on his hip.

“They’re at it again, you know,” Mozart says in passing, only causing you to groan.

“Sebastian! How many times have I told you not in the kitchen?” You exclaim, walking into the kitchen to find your lover and your child tackling yet another chore together.

It seemed to be baking this time, if the flour on both of their faces says anything.

“Mama!” Your child exclaims with powdered hands as Sebastian says blankly, “We’re doing chores.”

You merely roll your eyes, sighing as you walk out the room. Your apology comes later when a sloppy cupcake makes its way into your view.

Your eyes move up to your proud looking child, hair obviously patted down in an attempt to look presentable while your lover sports a tiny grin on his own face.

“We made this for you, mom! Papa said he wanted to make you reaaaally happy.”

Sebastian’s head instantly snaps down, eyes narrowing, “Hey.”

You can only laugh at your two babies, taking a bite of the surprisingly good and sweeter than an average cupcake.

Sir Isaac Newton’s badass coat of arms. (Would also make a good coat of arms for a dog, amirite?)

Have a Very Merry Isaac Newton’s Birthday by Matt Dawson

Secular seasons greetings to all, and to all a happy new year!

Artist website / tumblr

Someone write the rest of this song, PLEASE.

I think I’ll try defining gravity

isaac newton died today isn’t that nice. i guess you could say today is a holiday

"Amicus Plato, amicus Aristoteles, magis amica veritas"

From Latin, meaning: Plato is my friend, Aristotle is my friend, but my greatest friend is truth.

Written by Sir Isaac Newton in his student notebook while studying at Cambridge.