#and jarring AS A MORTAL reading this

[helenofblackthorns]

a really fun fact about my copy of city of ashes is that the format of the interior pages is completely different from my copy of city of bones. mind you, they're literally both from the same box set! yet for some reason coa is so ugly 😭 like look at this!

[fandom]

Books

In which the demigods and a conniving triangle knock the necromancers and their cavaliers from their celestial heights!

This list is brought to you by Tor Publishing Group (@torpublishinggroup), which you’re probably familiar with, given that this is tumblr dot com.

Percy Jackson +1 by Rick Riordan

The Book Of Bill by Alex Hirsch

Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling

The Locked Tomb series -3 by Tamsyn Muir

The All for the Game series +3 by Nora Sakavic

The Warrior Cats series by Erin Hunter

A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin

A Court of Thorns and Roses series +2 by Sarah J. Maas

Dracula -4 by Bram Stoker

The Trials of Apollo series +9 by Rick Riordan

The Odyssey +10 by Homer

Wings of Fire series +5 by Tui T. Sutherland

Six of Crows duology -9 by Leigh Bardugo

Discworld -5 by Terry Pratchett

The Silmarillion -4 by J. R. R. Tolkien

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice

Pride and Prejudice -5 by Jane Austen

The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton

The Raven Cycle series -5 by Maggie Stiefvater

Frankenstein -7 by Mary Shelley

The Iliad -1 by Homer

Stormlight Archive +2 by Brandon Sanderson

1984 +4 by George Orwell

The Folk of the Air series -2 by Holly Black

Romeo and Juliet +20 by William Shakespeare

The Simon Snow series -6 by Rainbow Rowell

The Secret History -9 by Donna Tartt

Captive Prince series +13 by C. S. Pacat

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Good Omens +20 by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

The Picture of Dorian Gray +18 by Oscar Wilde

The Sun and the Star -17 by Rick Riordan & Mark Oshiro

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare

The Far Side +11 by Gary Larson

The Animorphs series -13 by K. A. Applegate

Throne of Glass series -4 by Sarah J. Maas

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard series -3 by Rick Riordan

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde +8 by Robert Louis Stevenson

Mistborn -1 by Brandon Sanderson

Diary of a Wimpy Kid -16 by Jeff Kinney

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

The Song Of Achilles -13 by Madeline Miller

Crescent City series by Sarah J. Maas

The Twilight Saga -3 by Stephenie Meyer

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare

The Infernal Devices series by Cassandra Clare

The Bell Jar -12 by Sylvia Plath

The Wicked Powers series by Cassandra Clare

The Dark Artifices series by Cassandra Clare

The number in italics indicates how many spots a title moved up or down from the previous year. Bolded titles weren’t on the list last year.

So many books, so little time. Come find your online Community for all things books and reading. Right this way.

[sayoneee]

☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual. 

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song. 

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night. 

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you. 

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.  

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin. 

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin. 

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge. 

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness. 

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship. 

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange. 

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things. 

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you. 

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red. 

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Wands, Wizards, and Wi-Fi (Draco Malfoy)

Summary: you help Draco with Muggle Technology.

Warnings: an angry draco, but fluff.

WC: 500ish

@dawn-petrichor-world asked: I have a question. You know magic exists and one day you meet Draco Malfoy in a library struggling with a computer and secretly he tries to use his wand. Why will you do? Ignore him "destroying" public furniture or act like you didn't see his wand and try to help him. In my case, it depends, if he looks like a furious man I don't want to end up transforming into a frog 😭

A/N: we talked about this back in march of 2023!!!! i've had it saved in my drafts ever since!! lol

Read on Ao3!

--

The comforting aroma of old books filled the air as you roamed the shelves of the small, independent library tucked in a quiet corner of the city. It was a haven for you—a sanctuary where magic and reality seemed to blur. Of course, you knew real magic existed; you’d seen things you couldn’t explain, whispers of a world beyond the mundane. But you never expected to encounter it here.

At a corner table, a blonde man was glaring at a laptop with the kind of venom reserved for mortal enemies. His sharp cheekbones and tailored clothing made him stand out from the usual crowd of patrons. The tension in his jawline seemed to radiate frustration.

Curious, you wandered closer, pretending to browse the nearby books. That’s when you noticed the odd sight: his hand dipped into his jacket pocket, pulling out... a wand.

Your breath hitched. Was he really about to—?

He flicked the wand toward the laptop, muttering something under his breath. Nothing happened. The screen stubbornly remained blue, its spinning wheel mocking him.

Biting back a laugh, you stepped forward. "Need some help there?"

The man froze, his grey eyes snapping to yours. For a second, he looked almost panicked, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I don’t need help," he said stiffly, slipping the wand back into his pocket.

"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "Because magic definitely fixes laptops."

His face reddened slightly, though he attempted to cover it with a sneer. "What do you know about it?"

"More than you think," you replied, lowering your voice. "I’ve seen magic before. And I’m guessing you’re not from around here, are you?"

His demeanor shifted, suspicion mingling with curiosity. "Who are you?"

"Someone who knows how to make that," you pointed at the laptop, "stop spinning. Want me to show you?"

He hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, with a huff, he pushed the laptop toward you. "Fine. But if you break it, you’re paying for it."

"Relax," you said, suppressing a grin. Sitting down, you navigated the menus with ease. "What are you even trying to do?"

"Research," he said vaguely, his fingers drumming against the table.

"For what?" you pressed.

He hesitated again before muttering, "Muggle technology. My father insists we need to... understand it."

You couldn’t hide your amusement. "So, Lucius Malfoy finally decided to catch up with the 21st century?"

His head snapped up. "You—how do you—?"

"Like I said," you replied, fixing the issue on his laptop with a few clicks, "I know more than you think."

For the first time, a small smile tugged at his lips. "Perhaps you’re not entirely insufferable."

"Gee, thanks," you shot back, pushing the laptop back toward him.

As he examined the now-functional screen, his expression softened ever so slightly. "You’re surprisingly useful for a... Muggle."

"Who said I was a Muggle?" you teased, standing up.

You left him sitting there, his wand forgotten for the moment, as he stared after you with a mixture of intrigue and newfound respect.

[mothandpidgeon]

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: T (evenual E) MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, jealousy, angst, slow burn, yearning, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, love triangle (quadrangle?), Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 3.4k

a/n: Thank you to everyone that read part 1!! I'm so pleased that you're enjoying it so far! I really would've liked to let this part simmer a little longer but I'm holding myself to this publishing schedule. It's time to yeet this into the world. I'd love to know what you think. Your comments and reblogs give me so much joy!

Thank you @lowlights for the beta and help with witchy stuff. Thank you @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre for listening to me bitch about this and supporting me always.

“Don’t you look nice,” Aunt Margot says. 

You’re putting the finishing touches on your make up in the Page’s office. Usually you’d go back upstairs but you don’t feel like hearing it from Ezra.  

“Thanks. I have a date,” you say, packing your mascara in your purse. 

“Oh,” she replies, not hiding her disappointment in the slightest. 

You hadn’t intended to see Connor again but when he texted you, you couldn’t think of a good reason not to. He invited you to his place to check out his vinyl collection which sounds like an insufferable version of Netflix and Chill but you have no plans to listen to a single record. You just want to fuck in his bed and avoid any drama with Ezra. 

“Well I hope you’ll put as much effort in for the equinox,” she says. She flips the sign in the door from open to closed then snaps her fingers to turn off the overhead lights. 

You and Margot host the coven for the equinox each year which already means extra preparations in addition to work at the bookshop. 

“Why would I do that?” you ask. You don’t wear make up for moon rituals, don’t wear much of anything at all. 

“Esme is bringing River,” she says with a casual shrug. 

“No” you groan. 

“He’s visiting from Ireland,” she tells you. 

The last time you saw Esme’s grandson you were both in high school. River was built like a string bean, his upper lip dusted with the saddest mustache— if you could even call it that. He reeked of some badly brewed potion that was supposed to attract lovers. You still gagged when you smelled licorice root. 

“Good for him,” you say. “Please do not set me up with River.”

“I’m not a matchmaker, dear. I’m just trying to expand your sexual horizons,” Margot replies. 

Suddenly, Connor’s vinyls don’t sound so bad after all. 

—

Ezra pads through crystals and altar bells. Everything’s been laid out on Aunt Margot’s paisley scarves— scrying bowls and athame blades and jars of rain water all waiting to be charged by the moon of the autumn equinox. 

It’s just after midnight and the witches of your coven are gathered in a small clearing far enough into the woods that stray mortals won’t stumble upon them. The air smells fresh and cold like mountain spring water. A bonfire crackles, layered with herbs and pine needles. 

The waning moon feels heavy and close like it might just fall out of the sky and nick Ezra’s ear. It makes him feel uneasy. Then again, it’s hard to enjoy these rituals when he can’t participate the way he once did. 

Ezra watches you offer mulled wine to Esme and River, steaming cups scented with cinnamon balanced on an antique silver tray. You look beautiful in your simple white dress. It glows in the moonlight and he can see your body silhouetted beneath the fabric of its long skirt by the fire. 

He’s never cared much for Esme but, then again, he doesn’t have many kind words for any of the Elders even if the ones that cursed him are long dead. Even if he deserved that curse. She wears her long hair coiled on top of her head, a jade hair pin perched in its nest the same way her familiar, a tired old owl, watches from the branch of one of the trees. 

Ezra’s attention isn’t with Esme tonight. He’s keeping a close eye on her grandson. 

“He totally sucks. Please don’t leave me alone with him,” you’d implored. 

Ezra would be wary of him whether or not you’d asked. River is nothing like how you’ve remembered him to Ezra. He must’ve done a lot of growing up since your last encounter. Tall and lean with thick waves of auburn hair. He’s the kind of witch that even Ezra would have taken to bed when he was human. 

He sees the way River looks at you, watches him turn the charm on as he smiles. River’s eyes travel down your body and Ezra knows exactly what he sees. Waves of hot jealousy consume Ezra from nose to tail. For a moment, he worries he’ll get another thousand years added on to his sentence. 

After some small talk, Esme wanders away and that's Ezra’s cue. He slinks up between you and River, rubbing up against your legs to let you know he’s ready to bail you out. 

River swallows his drink with a chuckle. 

“That tastes just how I remember it. Me and Moss used to sneak glasses of Ariadne’s mulled wine when we were thirteen,” he explains. 

“Me too. Although I’m pretty sure Margot knew,” you say with a laugh. 

“Little mage, you asked me to fetch you when the oils were ready,” Ezra says. 

“Oh,” you say, throwing a self conscious smile at River. “I’ll go in a minute, Ez.”

“Margot could use your assistance,” Ezra adds. 

“Why don’t you go help her and I’ll be there soon,” you suggest.

Ezra can’t help but glare up at River. 

“Would that I had opposable thumbs,” he responds. 

You laugh. River doesn’t. You crouch down and glide your hand down Ezra’s spine.

“It’s okay, Ez. I’m good,” you tell him and you wink at him.

His blood turns molten as you turn back to River and continue your conversation. He wants to hiss and claw at him, draw blood. It feels like you’re slipping through his fingers not that he ever held a claim. Not that he even has fingers anymore. He’s completely powerless, standing at your feet like the dumb animal he is.

Rather than watch you moony over River, Ezra turns away and slinks off to the edge of the gathering to sulk. The fire’s warmth doesn’t quite reach and he presses back his ears to stave off autumn’s chill. He can’t run off into the woods the way he’d like to, not without raising questions from the other witches, make you look like you can’t control your familiar.

He can’t stop his eyes from wandering back to you. Your head thrown back in laughter, your hand on River’s forearm. Each moment of your joy is like a knife in his heart.

Ezra’s eventually relegated to the circle where the familiars commiserate. River’s is a jet black bird named Rhea who turns her beak up at him. He’s not one of them, not really. He was human himself with a familiar of his own but that’s not the only reason why they scorn him. They all know that he’s the worst kind of witch. 

There are many reasons why a witch might be turned into a cat but there’s only one crime that was punished with 1000 years— murder. And not just any murder. Ezra desecrated the life of another witch and, no matter how loyally he serves you, he’ll always have that stain. 

The rituals are done, the chanting. The embers from the fire float up through the trees towards the fat moon. Then the dancing begins. It’s erratic and joyful, Ezra can remember the ecstasy of it in his bones. Esme lets down her white hair and one by one the witches disrobe. 

He hears your laughter as you spin, shoulders shrugging with the pulse of the magic that swirls around the bonfire. 

He knows he shouldn’t look at you like that. Not you. Not here. You’re not putting on a show, you’re doing your magic. But the way your body moves against the glow of the fire is its own enchantment. He could worship you like the moon. 

The spell is broken just as quickly. River’s right beside you, bare skin radiant, muscles rippling with his own rhythm. His fingers tangle with yours and Ezra feels acid in his throat. 

The whole night becomes an assault on his senses. The sound of chanting rises, the old words frantic and savage. Amber and patchouli mix with the woodsmoke to choke him. Grotesque shadows fall over the faces of the witches like a carnival of horrors. And then there’s you— incandescent and naked and whispering something in River’s ear that has him grinning. Ezra’s hair stands on end.

“Come dance with me!” you giggle as you leave the circle of merriment. Your teeth are stained purple, drunk on wine and magic. 

“I’m quite content here,” Ezra lies. 

“Are you having fun?” You ask but you don’t wait for his answer. “River is…wow. He did not look like that when we were kids.”

You pick Ezra up and whirl around in a circle. He smells the incense of your skin, the alcohol on your breath. 

“You’re going to get your wish. I’m finally going to fuck a proper witch!” you say. 

You toss Ezra in the air and catch him. The bile has come so far up his throat it’s an absolutely nauseating sensation. 

“Enough!” Ezra hisses. He swats at you with his claws bared. 

You yelp and drop him. Before he even hits the ground, he feels it— a searing hot pain that makes his back arch. You’re defending yourself with your powers like a reflex. He lets out a yowl and just as quickly it passes.

Ezra staggers and looks up to find you with tears in your eyes. He’s never seen you looking so hurt, betrayed. Your jaw quivers. Ezra landed on his feet but he feels upside down. He’s realizing what he’s just done, that he tried to hurt you because he’s pathetic. Jealous. 

“Ez,” you say, your voice strangled. 

Like a coward, he takes off, ignoring you as you call after him. 

—

It’s the sound of the cat flap that wakes you sometime after sunrise. You’re sprawled out on your bed, head aching, eyes swollen. You’re still wearing your white dress, you threw it on before going after Ezra but it was no use. He was as black as the shadows in the forest and had slipped away under some bushes.

You abandoned the equinox celebration and went home in hopes he’d be there. You waited. Alone with your guilt and anxiety. 

I’m sorry. Please come home. You were never very good at telepathy but you tried to reach out to him with your thoughts. 

The sound that he made echoed through your mind as you paced the floor. Strangled, terrified. You tried to stop yourself from picturing him out there in the dark shaking with pain. 

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. It was involuntary. As soon as his claw grazed your skin, your powers flared. Maybe if you hadn’t been drunk you could’ve controlled it. It happened so quickly you still can’t be sure of how strong it hit him. 

Even if it was just a momentary shock, you saw just how much damage that moment did. His hair standing on end, his tail rod straight. But what really crushed you was the look in his eye. 

Suddenly you were just as horrible as every other witch that he’d served. You’d used your powers to punish him, to harm him. Every promise you’d ever made to him had broken in that instant. 

You see Ezra’s slim form dart to your doorway. In a flash, he slips under the bed and your heart sinks into your ankles. 

“Ez,” you say, your voice ragged from the night’s festivities. 

He doesn’t answer. You press your eyes shut and swallow hard then crawl to the edge of your mattress. Your stomach lurches as you look over the edge. On top of everything else there’s a hangover churning in your gut. You guess you deserve that, too. 

“Ezra, are you ok?” you ask. Whatever words of atonement you pieced together before you cried yourself to sleep have dissolved. 

He’s in the furthest corner beneath the bed, tucked against the wall with his tail wrapped tight around his body. You think you might burst into tears again seeing him cowering away from you. 

“I hope I didn’t make you fret,” he says. 

You want to scoop him into your arms and hold him as tight as you can but it feels like you’ve lost that privilege. 

“I’m so sorry, Ez,” you say, climbing down to the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sick over it.”

“You were well within your rights. You’re my master and I struck you,” he says. “I’m the one that should beg forgiveness.”

To hear him call you his master makes you feel even worse than before. There’s no amount of tuna belly that will make this right.

“No. It was my fault. And I promise I’ll never use my powers on you again. Ever,” you say. 

His gold eyes shift away. 

“Keep your apologies,” he says. “And I see I’ve kept you from your new paramour. Another act to add to my contrition.” 

“I don’t care about that.” If you hadn’t been so caught up in the prospect of taking River to bed, none of this would’ve happened. 

“Nonsense, little mage. You’re a witch. Be with other witches,” Ezra says.  

–

River’s in the bookshop when you arrive, standing opposite Aunt Margot. When you couldn’t convince Ezra to come out from under the bed, you decided to give him space. Maybe you could distract yourself re-alphabetizing the cookbooks. You were hoping for some quiet but you’re confronted by the very attractive witch you’d been flirting shamelessly with the night before.

You know you look a mess, your face still feels puffy. River, on the other hand, looks like the definition of a sight for sore eyes. Freshly showered and dressed in a well pressed shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows, the sun is streaming in the front window outlining his still-damp hair like he’s Prince Charming himself.

“There you are!” Margot calls. 

You smooth your hand across your top nervously as she appraises you. You threw on a more than slightly wrinkled shirt that was languishing on the floor of your bedroom, too preoccupied to put together a real outfit.

“Looks like we had too much of Ariadne’s little potion,” she says. 

“I have a tonic that’s great for that,” River says with a smile. “But coffee’s faster.” 

He hands you a steaming paper cup from the cafe down the street. He and Margot have their own perched on the counter. You take a sip and are surprised to find that it’s your regular order.

”Are you clairvoyant, too?” You ask.

River blushes. “Nah. Margot told me how you take your coffee,” he chuckles.

It's so thoughtful and you’re not feeling very deserving. You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“I wanted to go foraging around here but I really need a local,” he says. 

“That sounds fun,” you say half heartedly in an attempt to demure. You’re not really up for a good time but it feels like a real asshole move to turn River down considering he brought you coffee after you ditched him at the bonfire. Margot is beaming at the register.

“Doesn’t it?” she asks. “Why don’t I get you a basket?”

—

River carries the basket now overflowing with mushrooms and wild herbs. You’re deep in the woods, branches crunching beneath your shoes. Nature’s sounds echo around you, starlings and chipmunks, the constant whoosh of the breeze through the turning leaves. 

This path is overgrown but you know it well. You spent your childhood getting lost in these woods. They have their own magic. 

Your guilt overshadows the date. If it is a date. River seems to think it is if the way the back of his hand keeps brushing against yours is any sign. It’s hard to enjoy it especially when your mind keeps drifting off. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re only half-listening as he tells you just how mystical the vibes are at Stonehenge. 

You stop at a stream, sitting on a fallen tree that’s overgrown with moss. It’s one of your favorite spots. The water sparkles where the sunlight spills though the branches, peacefully trickling over rocks. You pick up one of the smooth stones and trace its wet surface with your thumb. 

You’ve sat in this very spot before feeling just as shitty. Heartbroken then, too, trying to figure out if you could call it a break up when you hadn’t actually been anything official. She hadn’t wanted anything complicated and you swore your feelings wouldn’t get involved. Unfortunately they had their own plans.

Ezra found you there, sulking by the stream, wondering if anyone would think you were worth breaking their own rules for. 

It struck you how quiet he was. There were no anecdotes about what the witch scene was like in 1924 or tips for mouse hunting, indoor versus outdoor. He just padded into the water and nudged a little stone towards your feet. It was just big enough to fit in your palm and it was cool against your skin as you held it there. 

“A thing of beauty,” he said and he head butted your shins affectionately. 

It was. Round from years, maybe decades under the water’s friction. A dull gray cut through the middle by a wedge of some crystalline mineral like shards of broken glass. You recall exactly what it looks like because it still sits on your night stand. Each time you see it you’re reminded of how Ezra slumped down beside you, his warm body weight like a cozy blanket, a faint purr reverberating through him. 

“You’ve got a big heart, little mage,” he said. 

You choke up at the memory, unsure if Ezra would ever think that again. You certainly wouldn’t say it about yourself today. 

“Either you’re really hungover or something’s bothering you,” River says gently. 

You laugh tearfully and he rubs a circle on your back. You try to shake your head but River doesn’t give it up, looking at you with a soft concern.

“I really fucked things up with Ezra last night,” you admit. Telling him what a cruel witch you are might be a huge turn off but the feeling of his palm through your shirt makes you feel at ease.

“Ezra?” he asks.

“My familiar,” you remind him.

“Oh.”

“He scratched me and —”

“He hurt you?” he asks, face painted with righteous indignation. 

“No. He barely got me. I totally overreacted,” you say. “I used my powers on him. It was just a reflex, you know? But…I just feel awful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he tells you with a relieved chuckle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

If that’s true then why do you hate yourself?

“If Rhea was out of line I’d do the same,” he goes on.

You wince at the thought.

“You’d hurt her?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I’ve never had to. She knows who’s boss.”

You’ve always considered Ezra a partner. Of course, there are plenty of witches that think of their familiars as nothing more than servants. It’s an old school way of seeing it. You hadn’t expected River to use words that remind you of the way your grandmother used to talk.

“Maybe it’s different,” you say, trying to give him the opportunity to walk it back. Ezra’s not like Rhea. Maybe you’d feel the same way River does if your familiar hadn’t once been as human as you are. Still, it doesn’t feel right.

“You’re a funny little witch,” he says with a grin.

“What does that mean?” you ask. 

“Crying over your familiar. It’s sweet.” He says it as if it’s a compliment but the condescension makes you frown in disgust.

“If you want to make it up to him, why don’t you find him a lady cat that can make him feel good,” he adds with a laugh.

“Is that what you’re into?” you ask with venom.

“What? That was a joke,” River says.

“I don’t think it’s funny. You know, just because Ezra’s a familiar, it doesn’t mean he should be treated like shit. And he’s not a cat. He’s a human,” you tell him.

“He’s a witch killer,” River spits back. “So I’m sorry if I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him.”

Your stomach turns. It’s the truth. Ezra’s served as a familiar in your family for centuries, his history has never been hidden from you and he’s never shied away from it.

But his punishment has never made sense to you. A thousand years, so many lifetimes, watching his friends and family die as he toiled in servitude for witches as backwards as River. It’s cruel, that’s why the Elders changed the laws years ago. And yet Ezra’s remained a cat, a familiar, disdained. 

Suddenly, the anger you’ve been tormenting yourself with turns outwards and you think your powers could set fire to the dry leaves at your feet. It’s all so unfair. The Elders turned him and witches like River scorn him and none of them feel a lick of shame. The back of your neck heats with a protective rage.

“He’s my friend,” you choke. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”

And you leave River speechless in the middle of the woods.  

🐈‍⬛

Part 3

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs appreciated! My inbox is always open.

[greenqueenhightower]

Larys x Alicent Scene in 2x04—Analysis:

The scene opens with Alicent getting a hot stone to ease her abortion pains which were distracting enough that she forgot to hide the moon tea jar. She bids “come” to the visitor who knocks at her door. She’s suffering alone, having refused the maids and servants Larys sent her to tend to her every need. It's her attempt to loosen his grip on her.

Notice how she says “Lord Larys” and closes her eyes when she becomes aware of his presence. He has appeared at the worst possible moment.

Larys knows immediately that something is amiss for Alicent to skip the council meeting, and as per Matthew’s words, whenever something is going on, Larys seeks a way to benefit from it. So he enters the room and Alicent lies blatantly and in front of his face. He doesn’t like that. After all, they had a relationship of mutual trust. Or so he thought. Alicent now reveals that she could never trust him fully, and maybe he should have done the same. There is so much unsaid conversation happening.

Alicent is scared to finally expose herself so openly to Larys who can see right through her and her lies. Look at how Larys stares at Alicent when he says “that is a rich indulgence” referring to the moon tea. The tension is off the charts. He says “it is a sin to deny your appetites” and he means Alicent's natural sexual drives. He is basically telling her that she shouldn’t feel sorry or in need to hide the fact she is having sex; if only she were doing so more openly. Is that an invitation?

“They are what make us fully alive as mortal men.” Larys compares his foot fetish to Alicent's sexual lust. They are both appetites and he offers an excuse for both of them. Larys is already thinking about how he might use this situation to his advantage. 

Alicent is evidently afraid and disturbed. Her secret is exposed. She changes the subject to the council. She has to steady herself and grab a chair. She bends her back and looks more crippled during that scene than Larys who again towers over her. He further examines her surroundings for more information. What is going through the Queen’s mind these days? Has he completely lost his grip on her since she sent all the maids away?

“Ser Criston wins every challenge he faces there” and “you must worry for him”—he knows, he definitely knows, and tries to provoke a reaction. Her general response of only worrying for him because he is the Hand of the King, confirms it. Notice how he stands up to come closer to her and Alicent sighs and holds her forehead; she knows this interrogation is not over.

He tells her that she has not appeared herself as of late. It's him, Larys Strong, who knows the Queen so well that he can offer a comparison. Something is amiss; what has so altered her state? This time he is not fishing for Alicole confirmation, he is referring to her frame of mind. What has upset it? Her response is enlightening not because she lets him in on the toll these events have had on her, but because essentially, she tells him off. She implies that he should mind his place, and stop trying to invade her every thought, the same way he invades her space. That he should let her at least have her mind to herself. But he knows how to get her to talk, and she reveals that she started looking into the histories as a source of wisdom like Viserys did.

Notice how shocked she is when he proves that he can read her thoughts and say: “do you think this is why he changed his mind, in the end?” Damn it, damn him, how does he do it every time? He knows what she's thinking. He knows she's been musing over Viserys’ wish for Rhaenyra to be Queen.

“Do you now doubt his intentions?” Larys is a discerning creep. He manages to get what he wants out of Alicent: she responds in a way that matters so much to him and concerns how the war will be fought. Is his Queen going to chicken out now that she has discovered her misinterpretation of Viserys’ words? How is his Green side going to fare in this war? Should he be looking elsewhere, or do they still have the upper hand and go for the win? Alicent reassures him by saying that Viserys wishes have ceased to matter. They are going to pursue their goal nonetheless. And that is what Larys wants to see and hear: that they are still on the same page and she is ready and willing to play the game for herself. That they are still the cunning and scheming allies they have always been, despite Alicent's revelations.

Or, he starts to think, perhaps even more so now.

[glowinggator]

Prompt: Calling the Lackadaisy characters by their full name

A/N: University has been keeping me busy, and I've been in a bit of a writers block. So in the meantime, take this goofy little thing!

Includes: Rocky Rickaby/Reader Calvin "Freckle" McMurray/Reader Dorian "Zib" Zibowski/Reader Mordecai Heller/Reader Viktor Vasko/Reader Serafine Savoy/Reader Nicodeme "Nico" Savoy/Reader

Rocky Rickaby: 

Rocky's always pleased to hear his name fall from your lips… "Rocky Rickaby…" he loves to occupy your attention, and he's not above doing a silly trick here and there to get you to utter his name like that. But his given name? You can't even finish "Roark" before he's at your feet, begging for forgiveness. Queue the waterworks -- his muse, his winter sunshine, his summer breeze please, please forgive him. For he is naught but a mortal man, riddled with the propensity for mistakes, but is -- Hm?  The maple syrup is in the back of the pantry, yes. Yes, next to the peanut butter. -- is that not the natural state of such mortal endeavors? Surely, such a divine being must take pity on the folly of man!

He doesn't register that you were only playing with him. Or, maybe he's realized and is just committing to the bit. You'll never know. What you do know, however, is that you'll have him at your feet for the next hour or so. 

Calvin McMurray: 

Calvin, Cal, Freckle… Sweetheart, in private. McMurray, when you're teasing. Calvin really gets the gamut of names and nicknames when it comes to you. But when he hears his full name yelled out from the opposite end of the house, he's nothing if not panicked. The past two decades of Irish Catholicism really beats that into you. He rushes to your side, back straight, head down in silent apology for… whatever it is, that he did. 

"...Yes, dear?"

He has to bite his tongue a bit to not bring out any honorifics, but the message comes across just the same. There's only 2 times he uses "dear" as his go to-- 1.) In front of his mother, 2.) After he's done something he shouldn't. 

Decompresses instantaneously when you ask him to open the pickle jar. He exhales quietly, holding his hand out silently for the jar. His heart can't take this sort of thing. Don't do this to the poor man… too often. 

Dorian Zibowski:

Blinks owlishly when he hears his full name shouted out from across the house. If there's any way to sober Zib up… this is it. He's leaping to his feet in an instant, rushing to where you are… and slowing down when he's just out of sight. He smooths his fur and his clothes and takes a deep breath before waltzing calmly into your line of sight. Play it cool. 

"Funny way of pronouncing "Zibowski, doll. Need something?" 

He takes it in stride, but don't be fooled -- he's quaking in his boots, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels the weight lifted off his chest when you ask him to grab something from the top shelf, although you'd never know that. He does, however, press a lingering kiss to your temple after he passes the item off to you. Don't read into it too much. 

Mordecai Heller: 

He tears his eyes away from his book, glancing at you from over the rim of his teacup. "Yes?" 

He's truly unaffected. He's introduced by his first and last name all the time, and he was never scolded in such a manner as a child.  If you were looking for some outlandish reaction, all you've got is his quiet attention. And you might want to answer quickly -- he'd really like to finish this chapter tonight. This is quite a grueling read, you know. 

His true name, however, is a different story. But that's for entirely different reasons, and well, you wouldn't  know anything about that. Right? 

Viktor Vasko: 

Yet another one who is unaffected. He looms over you a bit -- which really, isn't unusual for him considering his stature -- humming questioningly.

He's a man of few words, and even fewer reactions. You've really gotta put some emotion in your voice if you want to get any sort of reaction out of him, and even then the most you're likely to get is a raised eyebrow… maybe a bit of a head tilt if you're lucky. And you can really only do this once -- he'll remember your little trick for next time. 

(If you really want to get a reaction out of him, use some sort of petname. He secretly finds them rather sweet, and the right one will force-reset his brain a bit the first few times you use it. )

Seraphine Savoy: 

Seraphine isn't unaffected by the use of her full name… rather, she revels in it. She's always enjoyed the flow of her name, but it always seems to fall from your lips like some goldly golden ichor. To call it heavenly would be a bit of a misnomer -- sinful, mayhaps? It's a difficult feeling to place, but she strides over to you confidently nonetheless. Her lips quirk up as she leans into your personal space.

"Yes, amou?"  

Nicodeme Savoy: 

Truthfully, he isn't the biggest fan of you calling him by his full name. Well, his full first name, anyways. Feels too stuffy, for his liking. But he takes it in stride, waltzing up to you lazily. He rests his arm on your shoulder and leans down to be eye-level with you, eyes half lidded with a grin. He throws your own full name right back at you teasingly. Need something?  Want him to grab something, or open a jar? Hm? 

His grin stretches a bit wider when you pout -- you really thought you'd get him this time, huh? He kisses you chastely, nipping at you softly in jest. Gotta try harder than that to shake him, bebe. 

[ukiyowi]

𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐒𝐔𝐒 (𝟑𝟔𝟕𝟏)

𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Dionysus is the Greek god of wine and festivities and has the power of driving mortals insane. In my opinions, wherever this asteroid is in your chart can show how you are when intoxicated/drunk

Note: My observations, if you don't relate Move. Check out my tarot PACs and paid readings of you're interested!

Masterlist || Paid Readings || Tip Jar

⌂ Houses

𐃯 1st: Loud and the life of the party, want all eyes on you, may become the centre of attention, may start getting into drinking competitions at parties, may become a little annoying to some people because they can become a little egotistical and start bragging about themselves, they also love talking about themselves when drunk.

𐃯 2nd: Possessive, they may become a little passive and isolate themselves in a corner, there's a tendency that they can get a little sleepy or tired as well. May not want to socialise at all and may want to leave the party early or if they're alone, will call it a day and do the irish goodbye, could also end up accidentally buying things (me lol).

𐃯 3rd: My cousin has this placement and she gets so chatty when she's intoxicated, she will go on long never ending rants about any topic under the sun. May get really giggly and flirty, at times may even gossip quite a bit about others, love meeting new people and socialising especially at parties.

𐃯 4th: Can get a little scattered and get very emotional, a little bit of a crier and all their emotions get amplified, big laughs, big cries, just feel everything all at once. You can become very appreciative of your friends and can become a little lovey-dovey as well as clingy.

𐃯 5th: So much fun, larger than life energy, they kind of become the host, will talk to everyone, mingle, the type to be in the middle of a dance circle and absolutely kill it. May become dramatic but it's humorous and playful, may also talk/think about their plans for their future in regards to their family life when intoxicated.

𐃯 6th: Can become a little cranky and irritable over small things, can feel uncomfortable so they may not drink or indulge in general, the type to be the mom friend even and may like taking care of others even when they need to more, helpful, compliments flow easier but they can also become a little candid with their speech (a little mean).

𐃯 7th: My friend has this and they do start thinking about their past relationships and ranting about their exes, also the kind to dial their exes but overall so much fun, they love to tease others, and can get really creative when intoxicated, especially when it comes to aesthetics. Also make friends so easily holy shit it's insane, need to teach me how!

𐃯 8th: May like playing games related to gambling to be honest, they'll not be very different from how they usually are and may have a high tolerance, seem calm and composed, can make impulsive monetary decisions as well. Can come off as a bit intense when drunk, emotionally like in a good way they may make big emotional decisions too like telling someone they love them romantically.

𐃯 9th: They start talking about life and existence and very philosophical topics, I've met some people with this sign who get really political and at times get kind of pushy about their views and opinions. Fun to talk to if you want to know their opinions on life and what it means, can get sleepy quite fast frankly speaking.

𐃯 10th: Emotional, can become a little demanding and authoritative, ordering people around low-key. Can be kind of a party pooper because I see 10th house Dionysus as people who can get a little angry/aggressive when drunk and also a little selfish, for example if they're at a party with their friends they won't let them talk to other people or something along those lines.

𐃯 11th: Honestly my personal faves, they're so creative and the ideas they have are brilliant, they would probably love talking about stuff related to the science fiction or fiction in general. They get extremely social and are the type of people who would get a lot of numbers if they want, would also make a lot of new friends, they may get cold easily when drunk/intoxicated too.

𐃯 12th: Get kind of lost in their own world, they unintentionally ignore people because of how consumed they are with their own thoughts, can get really silent and passive, and may get very distracted and sort of unaware of their surroundings, bumping into things unintentionally and stuff like that, maybe daydreaming a lot.

All rights reserved Ukiyowi. Do not copy, reword, plagiarise my content!

[brightdown00]

If You Want An ACTUAL 'Feminist Icon' Man With Depth, Then Ares Is Your Best Candidate (NOT Hades!)

He has been SEVERELY misrepresented. Wonder Woman, Percy Jackson, DC Comics ... why didn't God of War use Ares instead of Kratos who is just one of Zeus' lieutenants?

(Don't get too excited just yet, it's still a pretty low bar.)

1) Ares is quite literally the ONLY Greek God (sitting on the Twelve Olympians) who doesn't need to be put on an sex offender registry. (I won't speak for his Roman counterpart, Mars, however ...) The worst he ever did, was seduce Phylonome, an hunting companion of Artemis, in the guise of an shepherd. That's hardly comparable to Zeus seducing Callisto in the guise of Artemis, or Alkmene in the guise of her husband Amphitryon, or Poseidon seducing Tyro in the guise of the river-God Enicepus.

That's right, the 'sacker of cities' isn't a rapist himself. (If you don't like irony, then Greek mythology isn't for you.)

2) Not only is Ares the only one who isn't a rapist, but he has actually stood up for sexual assault survivors more than once (even if they're his mother or daughter!) Ares was famously tried (and acquitted!) for homicide by a jury of the Twelve Olympians, after he slew Poseidon's son for raping his daughter. In one version of the myth, he was found guilty and forced to serve among mortals (which was the same sentence Zeus gave Poseidon and Apollo for conspiring against him). The implication is that all the Goddesses voted to acquit, all the Gods voted to convict, and what with Poseidon as prosecutor, Zeus as judge, and Ares as defendant, there were more goddesses on the jury than gods. Even if Zeus cast his vote to convict, it would have come to a tie and the rule was that the defendant is to be acquitted if there is a tie. (This is what occurred in The Oresteia, the setting of which was also the Areopagus.) When two giant sons stormed Olympus with the intention of taking Hera and Artemis, Ares was trapped by them in a jar, and the implication was because he was defending his mother and he was only a child at the time. He was also present at the punishment of Ixion who attempted to violate Hera, alongside Athena and Hermes.

3) Ares is the father of the Amazons (you hear that, DC Comics?) The founder of the Amazons, Otrera (who, btw, is the mythological founder of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus), is either his daughter with the wood-nymph Harmonia, or his consort (if she is the daughter of Eurus, God of the North Winds) by whom he fathered Melanippe, Antiope, Hippolyta, and Penthesilea. Their nation's capital city is named Themiskyra in honour of Themis (Zeus' second wife and his aunt by whom he fathered three daughters), whom Ares is on surprisingly close terms with (see the Homeric Hymn to Ares), since he was also the patron god of the law enforcement.

4) One of Ares' epithets is 'feasted by women', in the ancient city of Tegea in Arcadia; during a war between the Tegeans and the Spartans, the women of Tegea defended the city from an invasion led by the Spartan king Charilaus.

5) Women abused by their husbands, as I've read online (but cannot verify), would have likely prayed to Ares for the strength to survive, which makes sense since he is the God of Courage (who else would they have prayed to?), which may have (sadly) further contributed to his unpopularity in Ancient Greece. Likely women also prayed that their abusive husbands would die violently on the battlefield in the next war ... He is, after all, the 'slayer of men'. It's not any different from how mothers would pray to Demeter to bring their daughters back alive, or unmarried girls would pray to Artemis to escape an unwanted marriage ... There's no 'protector of women in Greek mythology' because the Hellenistic religion worked through power bargains with the Gods and their respective domains ...

6) Aphrodite was forced into a marriage with Hephaestus in exchange for Hera's release (Hephaestus initially sued for the hand of Athena which ... didn't work out; see Erichthonius for more detail), Aphrodite expected that she would marry Ares. (They may or may not have been sleeping together before since Dionysus is the one who got Hephaestus drunk enough to do it ... Dionysus is the son of Semele, daughter of Harmonia, Ares and Aphrodite's daughter ... or maybe it's just the wonky timeline in Greek mythology ... ) Love and War. Their children are Eros (the literal Cupid himself) and Anteros (Unrequited Love), Phobos (Fear), Deimos (Panic), and Harmonia (Harmony). They have an open marriage (they are often acknowledged as each other's consort in mythology), despite Ares killing Adonis as a boar (although one version has Artemis killing Adonis as revenge for Hippolytus) and Aphrodite cursing Eos with insatiable lust. Spartans gave Aphrodite the epithet of 'Areia' (similar to how Zeus has the epithet of 'Heraion'). Note how Ares and Aphrodite are the only official couple, whether they're depicted as married or otherwise, on the Twelve Olympians (following her divorce from Hephaestus) besides Zeus and Hera themselves, which brings me to my next point ...

7) Even though Ares was not worshipped by many Ancient Greeks (just as they didn't feel comfortable even mentioning Hades by name), he was always depicted as an handsome soldier, which was the peak of male attractiveness at the time. Legally, he would have been considered as the 'legitimate' heir to the throne of Olympus as the only 'true' son of Zeus and Hera (since Hephaestus was conceived via parthenogenesis), given how the Ancient Greeks projected their own sociocultural norms onto their Gods. He is also one of the most handsome of Zeus' sons (along with Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus). Bizarrely, he could almost be considered as Ancient Greece's cultural equivalent of Prince Charming in a roundabout way.

8) Ares is the son of Hera (the Goddess of Marriage, Family, and Childbirth, Patron of Women and Queen of Olympus) and the husband of Aphrodite (Goddess of Love and Beauty; Lust and Sexuality; Desire and Pleasure). He is also the rival to his half-sister Athena (Goddess of Wisdom and Reason; Strategy and Warfare; Arts and Crafts) for his father's affections, and shares jurisdiction with his half-sister Artemis over the Amazons. He's also on good terms with his grand-aunt, Themis, and I would assume his aunt Hestia. Zeus and Hera's other children are all daughters (Enyo, Eileithyia, Hebe, Angelos, Arge, Eleuthera), and a part of Zeus is concerned that Ares would overthrow him (more on that in another day, for another post). It's not hard to see why Ares drinks the Respect Women Juice unlike his father, uncles, or brothers.

9) People often use Ares persecuting a pregnant Leto at Hera's orders against him, disregarding that Hera is not only his mother but the Queen of Olympus. Even then, he never did anything more than deny her entrance to cities. The entirety of Ancient Greece itself was under orders to deny Leto sanctuary, and so are you really going to fault Ares for it? ZEUS didn't even hold it against Ares, even though he's his least favourite and Leto is his favourite woman ...

9) Ancient Greek mythology is largely passed through Athens, and they associated Ares with foreigners such as the Thracians (Thrace is said to be the God's birthplace) whom they regarded as stupid, uncivilized barbarians (see 6). His respecting women is likely meant to be seen as a negative trait, and highly correlated with how Ares was seen in general (see 3).

Note: I am NOT calling Ares an 'feminist icon' man, I'm just saying that he is the best possible candidate in Greek mythology.

[howlettloki]

Less smut, more meaningful words with such eloquence, well executed plot, characterizations and world building.

A Loki (Marvel)/Reader Fic Recommendation

If you’re like me, who loves to read longer fics then this blog post is for you. This list features beautiful books I have read featuring Loki and the reader for the past 5 years. This is long overdue I have been planning to do this for a while now. I’ll do my best to share all of them in one post (might probably edit this once I remember more). One thing, I really love when an author finds a way to not use Y/N. Enjoy the list!

Completed Fics

Frostbite by Maiden_of_Asgard

Synopsis:

Iceland is nice - sure, you probably should’ve picked a time of year when the weather was a little warmer, but it isn’t too bad, and at least you’re away from your desk job, right? It’s a pretty big adventure.

You’ve always said that you wanted more adventure in your life.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one you’ve probably read, if not go check it out. It’s one of the best out there. I mean, need I say more?

The Proposal by BirdsofHermes

Synopsis:

An AU gender-reversal of the 2009 romantic comedy The Proposal. You work for Loki Laufeyson at Asgard International Publishing. He accidentally lets his work Visa expire and is about to be deported back to England, so he blurts out that he's marrying you. Now you have to convince an immigration inspector as well as your own family that you're in love with Loki or he gets deported for life and you face five years jail time.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I have read this more than one can count fingers in their hands.

Broken Crown by Michelleleahhh

Synopsis:

Your betrothal to Thor was convenient - brokered as an alliance between two powerful families.

Your marriage to Loki... is unimaginable.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Please proceed with caution and read the tags. When I read this the first time, I was new to this world but I remembered enjoying reading this piece. I just recently re-read this, and I just found some minor stuff I didn’t really enjoy. Overall the story and the plot got me hooked however, there’s just few chapters that I feel could’ve been explored more and executed better. Still, I enjoyed reading this the second time around.

Fǫruneyti by Evaldrynn

Synopsis:

A story in which a herbalist makes a decision that will drastically change her life, and in which a prince begins to realise that there might still be hope for him yet. A tale of danger, adventure, friendship - and, ultimately, love. 

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

This one I stopped reading at 70%, I have certain icks when it comes to reading and once I reach that ick jar I’m done. It was still beautifully written, got me hooked and all, loved the progress. What can I say, I love slow burns.

The Devil Inside by Ursus_minor

Synopsis:

You're a free lance artist and just running short of rent money for the month, so when your good buddy Thor offers you a one-off job at his sister's company, you take it - even though helping his little brother out with some paperwork sounds awfully tedious

I always wondered what Loki, Hela and Thor would do if they were 'mere mortals'

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

It’s deleted but I was lucky enough to have read this way back 2020. It was one of my favorite back then, because it was hard to find a long fic where Loki is not the God of Mischief but just a mere mortal living amongst us. I honestly forgot most about this story, I only remember bits and pieces, you’re Thor’s best friend and he helped you gain money by working under Loki, like the synopsis said.

A Study In Suit by lowkeyorloki

Synopsis:

You've worked too damn hard to get into Professor Laufeyson's course, and you're not about to let your pesky attraction to him get in the way. Your Professor, however, has other plans.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Professor Loki. That’s it.

From the Void, With Love by pilotisms

Synopsis:

Torn from time, you have to navigate the TVA with the one person who singlehandedly tried to conquer NYC. Turns out you & him have a future-past. Time is weird.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is one of the best I’ve read, this is my second to The Proposal. I fucking love this you have no idea. Wished there was a longer sequel though.

Litklœði by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

“And the sire promised that he would spend the rest of his days searching for the cure of the flower disease which took his friend. And he did find this cure, but not without a cost,” Frigga explained and stroked Loki’s head as the illusions vanished. “But now, when one is fraught with flowers in their chest, a völva can remove these flowers with seiðr – saving the victim’s life and removing the vines from their lungs.”

The Allmother paused and looked at your small, childish face. Her smile was kind and full, but her eyes lay empty and sad. The knowledge of yet to come lay heavy on her features.

However, be warned my child, that with the removal of lung flowers the feelings of unrequited love will be removed too. As will any remaining trace of friendship. So be careful how you give your heart, my dear. You may never know what you could lose.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hanahaki Disease AU? Anyone? This one is from my previous blog post. Pure feelings. Loved young loki and young reader.

In Progress or Abandoned Gems

Mea Culpa by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

Six years ago yours and Loki's relationship came to an abrupt and messy end, leaving resentment and hurt in its wake. Now you haven't heard a whisper of him in years, until he turns up at his brother's wedding, seemingly changed for the better, and you're thrust into facing both him and the memories you had buried. But a dangerous figure from Loki's past looms overhead, and Thanos is determined to hunt Loki down and make him pay for betraying him.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I mean based on the synopsis who wouldn’t want to read that? Last update was last year, here’s to hoping it’ll update more or I’m gonna have to kms.

Anagapesis by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

You have a perfect life; a loving husband, a beautiful baby. But when it all comes crashing down, you must put survival ahead of sentiment and turn to a darker prince - your husband's brother. Loki is cruel and cold, and he hates you with a burning passion. Or so you think.

Review:

💔💔💔💔

Just when you think you’re falling, he makes you remember what type of person he is. I feel for Loki, but he’s just cruel man. I wish there was more so I could understand him a bit more.

Seiðmaðr by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

Amidst the fallen brethren of the Vanaheimr war against Muspelheim, the dark prince of Asgard finds himself lost and riddled with amnesia. His words are barbed, his tongue is gilded and his eyes are sharp. He has no recollection of his name or family, but he soon comes to realise that perhaps it is best for the past to be shadowed by the future, and that life as a beloved commoner is better than life as a miserable prince.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I’m a sucker for fantasy and a well executed world building. I love how I’m instantly transported into the world created by the author and I feel alive inside. I wish there was a way to find out what happens next. I just love this so much I wish there was more.

[roygbivvie]

-TF2 MERC KINKY HEADCANNONS-

*This is like my first time writing anything on here so have mercy on my mortal soul*

Nsfw warning obvi, so 18+..but also it gets pretty damn kinky in here so beware.

- [x] Spy

Spy in my mind is absolutely a switch. He absolutely has a daddy kink and a knife kink, but he also wants more than anything for someone (scouts mom) (or you ;0) to yank him down by his tie and force him to his knees. He likes surprises. These can be sexual in nature or not. I feel he would also like blindfolds regardless of who’s wearing it. covers your eyes and says “guess who” ass motherfucker. He’d growl too i think.

- [x] Sniper

many thoughts are to be had about this man in particular. For starters, by no means am i one to kink shame. My blog would be more of a testament to that if my likes were public. However, i simply do not think he has a piss kink. I think he puts absolutely no thought into pissing in jars besides the fact that it’s purposefully insulting to his targets in game. With that out of the way, his kinks. Do i even need to say primal kink? This fella read most dangerous game and thought: damn.. that’s kinda sexy. He wants to set you loose in the woods and track you down to fuck you. he wants it outside. he wants it dirty, sweaty, covered in blood and mud. He wants it animal style but literally. Aside from primal stuff, he loooves roadhead and hitting that thang from the back.

- [x] Scout

Now scout is a tricky one. Unlike basically all of the other mercs, i don’t think he’s super kinky. Here’s some thoughts anyways. He’d definitely start out kinda preformatively domineering, but the man has no ability to bluff. he’d ask constantly if he’s doing ok / if there’s something you want him to do. He is an absolute sucker for any praise. Compliment him on literally anything, and he’ll be a puddle in your lap.

- [x] Pyro

The mask STAYS. ON. during sex. The only way i could see them removing it is if they first blindfolded you. It’s not that they don’t trust you, they just refuse for absolutely anyone to see them. So i hope you have a mask kink, because they’ve certainly developed one. Other kinks they may have would be sensory play. I’m talkin hot wax, ice, feathers, incense, maybe even needles. basically the whole shebang. Pyro also has a love for fantasy, and i feel like Ovipositors would lend quite well to that. They probably have quite the extensive bad dragon collection.

- [x] Engineer

He absolutely makes you toys.. and them suckers are POWERFUL. He’d absolutely make a fuck machine, or several. I think he’s extra into having anything you use to get off be made by him. He’s mega into overstimulating you. He likes to watch his handiwork absolutely wreck you over and over. He may even want others to watch too. I think he’d have a size kink whether you’re bigger or smaller than him, I just think he’d like the difference.

- [x] Demo

I think he likes cuddlefucking and somnophilia. Nothin sobers him up faster than waking up to head. Now when he gets in the mood for it, it’s degradation BIG time. like so bad that he probably feels he has to apologize afterwards.

He also likes to spit on you. Also i don’t know how it would work, but there’s potential kink-ery with that ghost eye of his. I don’t know how, but the potential is there.

- [x] Medic

Oh boy this freak..

Did someone say knife kink? yea. yeaaaaah. And it’s pretty extreme. He’s not just threatening you, he’ll really do it. He likes to keep you strapped to a medical bed n shit too. I think he’d like to spoon-feed people. He gets off on giving you sugar pills to make you “feel better” wait.. were those really sugar pills? fuck. You’ll wake up sore with maybe an organ or two missing, but that’s the price to pay for those big sexy jugs he’s got. Don’t worry he’s a master at aftercare.

- [x] Heavy

Size kink outta the way, I think Heavy is into Dollification. He wants to take care of you, dress you in frilly outfits, and keep you on a shelf like a little collectible next to Sasha. He might even share you with medic.. take you in to get “fixed” if he ever brakes you..

……….. fleshlight position 0////0

- [x] Soldier

WAM!!! (wet and messy) for sure. I mean the honey in the comics certainly did something for him. wearing red, white, and blue? you won’t be wearing anything in no time. I feel like degradation is also a certain for him. Don’t tell anyone but he secretly wants you to put him in his place .. he definitely doesn’t want more than anything to follow someone’s orders..

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexFemYou Boat Scene 18+

Summary: FemReaderxGale NSFW 18+ on the boat in the astral plane after you and Gale discuss the crown. Tried to be a little slower and tender in this one. Done at the request of another, thank you for the idea! :) Content: Explicit and slow piv sex, Minors DNI!

Master List | Read on Ao3

“I don’t think I deserve you at times - I told you of my ambitions, the likes of which many would baulk at - and yet, you remain at my side. Permit me to show you something, please? Indulge me - a little boat voyage, that’s all.” 

Despite your hesitation, you obliged - Gale meant more than words could express and you knew you’d do whatever you needed to help him see that. 

“Astra navigabimus.” As he uttered the words, you felt your consciousness and body shift, pulling away from the material plane and cast elsewhere. It was jarring and surreal, yet you kept your eyes shut, trusting Gale implicitly. 

“Few mortals ever glimpse what you’re about to see,” Gale said in a husky, quiet voice as his warm hand engulfed yours. “Don’t be alarmed, I’m here with you. Open your eyes.” 

You inhaled, the air around you a chilled mist. Goosebumps undulated across your skin as your eyes fluttered open, absorbing the impossible swirls of purple and blue iridescence that surrounded you. As you drift on the small wooden boat, your fingers lithely traced the air, trying to capture the gossamer fog. 

You turned to Gale, his face bright and the impossible colors swirled in his dark eyes. “The outer planes… this is where gods dwell. Where they observe us from afar. Where they make play things of us.” He frowned, gesturing to the skies, “They would keep all of this from us - the power, the possibilities. They only want us to serve them, pray to them… die for them. What if we didn’t need them and welded their power instead to help ourselves in all the ways they refuse to?” Gale’s voice was thick with anticipation and delirium, “I could make that happen. I could make this illusion a reality… with you by my side.” 

You froze, gripped by the possibility of what he offered. You’d be lying if you said the thought wasn’t tantalizing… yet, as he sat here before you, pleading and desperate for approval, you knew that Gale - the man before you - was enough. He would always be enough. When was the last time he’d been told that?

Had he ever been told? 

“I don’t need the stars, Gale,” you laced your fingers with his and brought his palm to your lips, brushing them against the skin. “I have you.” 

Your romantic gesture fell on deaf ears as Gale insisted: “Then have me, but have the best, possible version of me. The tadpole, the orb, these threats to our existence, the gods could aid us if they wished and instead they cower behind Ao. With the power of the crown, any foe would be rendered impotent, any obstacle dwarfed by our might.” Gale sighed, clutching your hands like a penitent seeking redemption. “I used to believe Mystra was worth dying for. I was wrong. You showed me how much I have to live for. With you, I forget my goddess.” Your heart thrummed violently, threatening to jump from your throat and your body instinctively began to scoot forward, craving him. “I love you. Tell me you feel the same, that you want what I want… please..” Gale’s voice broke and you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands and rested your forehead to his. 

“I love you for the man you are,” you said, brushing your lips tenderly to his and he shuddered, emitting a gentle groan. Your knees were flush to his and you moved forward, chasing the adrenaline that flowed through your veins like a raging river. 

“Think of what I offer, the vastness of eternity, the Weave at our fingertips… you’d really prefer me as I am?” Gale looked into your eyes, the dark pools beseeching earnestly for your truth. Could you mean it? 

“You’re everything I need you to be,” you murmured before allowing your fingers to twine into his hair, pulling him close as your lips captured his. His gentle moan ignited the blaze within you and you feel the heat between your thighs stir. 

Gale returned your kiss passionately, hungrily, a man starved with disbelief that mortality would be enough. “I hope you’re right. Godly power I can live without but you - you’re everything.” His hands ran up your thighs, brushing against the soft skin and teasingly trailed closer to the source of your desire. “You put the stars to shame… let’s sit here awhile, I want to drink you in.” He brushed his tongue across your lower lip before he sought entrance, your tongues gliding together in the familiar wonton dance. He tasted faintly of earl gray and something rich - perhaps a lingering flavor of the nights meal. 

Your bodies entangled with familiarity, and you felt Gale’s smirk widen against your lips. He pulled back for a moment to caress your cheek and rested his forehead to yours, “Would you be opposed to staying here a bit longer?” He murmured as his fingers traced the edge of your shirt, tickling your torso beneath. You shivered, feeling the electricity burn and you whimpered as his cool hands pulled the shirt over your head. He licked his lips as his eyes consumed you, his pupils blown wide with desire, his cheeks flushed a dark pink. You shook your head, the bitter mist shrouding you as heat swelled in your center. 

Gale leaned forward, his lips brushing against the freckles that littered your shoulder and your hands trailed under his shirt, lifting. He obliged, leaning backward as you slowly pulled his shirt off. Typically, Gale and you would ravage one another if given the opportunity. 

Tonight, though, felt different. You craved him tenderly, wanting each moment to be a standalone symphony. You traced the orb, how its tendrils licked up his neck and brought your lips to the pattern. He sighed, pulling you closer to him and the seats of the boat seemed to de-materialize as you and Gale stared at one another, admiring. 

A plush blanket appeared beneath you and you rose a brow curiously as your fingers ran over the sensual fabric. Gale wrapped his arms around your torso to pull you into his lap. Your legs circled his waist and you cupped his face in yours, allowing your lips to meet in a supple, painfully slow kiss. You moaned as his tongue sought yours, as he slipped it into your mouth greedily, your hips rolling against his for friction. You felt the girth between his thighs stir as your hips rocked and you pressed yourself tighter to him as the kiss deepened. The carnal need grew, rooted in your core as the lustful dance began. 

Gale’s lithe fingers hooked into the waist of your pants and you gasped, the iciness of his touch juxtaposing the primal heat pooling within you. He took his time unlacing your pants before pushing them unhurriedly down. His eyes flick down to your clothed sex and you heard him intake his breath sharply. Gale leaned forward, kissing you lecherously. Each move of his tongue was precise and painfully slow, and you felt your body begin to squirm impatiently. You felt him grin against your lips as he cupped your chin and pulled your face closer to his as his tongue indulged. 

Your fingers clumsily worked to remove his trousers and he chuckled, “Let me lend you a hand,” he said as his fingers grazed yours. He shook out of the pants and your eyes widened as you admired the firm tent pressed against his underwear. He guided your hand, slipping it beneath his underwear and he groaned as your fingers wrapped around his arousal. He was warm, firm and you felt a surge of dripping arousal soak your underwear. He groaned as your hand circled him and began to deftly pump, matching his agonizingly steady pace. His fingers sought entrance between the cloth of your undergarments and sex and trailed along your inner thigh, right where the seam met your skin. 

You mewled, grinding your hips against his, feeling his erection glide against your covered arousal. Your hand worked quicker before his hand covered yours, his breath hot and quiet as he murmured, “Let’s take our time tonight…” Your body was desperate, wanted to move with a vicious urgency yet Gale continued with such excruciating gentleness. A light brush would likely be enough to send you off the cliff. 

His fingers found their way beneath your underwear and you squirmed, seeking him and friction. He chuckled darkly before slipping his fingers away, “The more impatient you are, the longer I’ll wait…” he teased and you leaned forward, biting into his neck. The sinful noise that fell from his lips sent another wave of arousal through you. 

“Gale, please,” you begged, your wetness seeping from your underwear and onto his, leaving evidence of your need. Gale traced your lips with his fingers and you shivered, licking the fingers before you before pulling them into your mouth. Gale groaned, his hips bucking upwards into you as you sucked on his fingers. “Touch me,” you whimpered against his fingers and he brought his slick hand into your underwear. 

“Rather needy tonight,” Gale teased again and he moaned as his fingers slipped between your folds, “Gods, how divine… how eager you are for me…” as he slid his fingers between your thighs you rolled your hips, whimpering again. His thumb circled your clit, the movements unrushed despite your protests. Gale kissed you again as you gripped his shaft, encircling him as you toyed with him, wanting to feel him inside of you. Gale, as if reading your mind, said, “Have you been patient enough?” 

You shook your head, moving your hips, deprived of his fingers. You felt him slip a few into you then, stretching you slowly and massaging you. The sudden entrance made you shudder violently and your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers pressing into his back as you moaned. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck, biting down to stifle your unholy sounds. 

“No need to suppress yourself,” Gale murmured, pushing your hair back as he thrusted his fingers harder into you, forcing your body to tighten around him with arousal. “I want to hear you,” he demanded, pressing deeper into you and against the deepest source of your arousal. You cried out and bit down on his neck again. 

You lifted your hips, bringing them down onto his fingers and you mumbled against his neck, “I need you, I need more…” 

“Woe be it from me to deny you…” he murmured, pushing your underwear off your body and did the same to himself. He held himself for a moment, stabilizing as you brought your hips over his erection. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you gazed into his lustful, brown pools and felt him fill you. Your mouth watered as you brought yourself down deliberately only allowing the tip of him in. 

He whimpered, thrusting his hips up and you pulled back, smirking. “Why the rush?” You retorted and he growled, surrendering to you. You rolled your hips before bringing yourself fully over him, allowing him to stretch you full and welcomed him into your slick cunt. You both moaned as he filled you and he thrusted into you aggressively, gripping your hips. Your lips brush against his neck, his jaw, until your tongues are tangled again and he drove into you. Your bodies moved of their own accord now, both of you desperate for release and pleasure, the sensations overwhelming. Every fiber of your being thrummed with sin and you moved quicker, pulling him deeper into you and clenching around his erection. He moaned as you did, gripping your waist tighter, using his other hand to pull your hair back and kiss you. Sweat began to cover you both as your movements became carnal, needy - your breathing jagged and unsteady as you felt yourself swell with bliss and ecstasy. 

“I….” Gale moaned, the kiss sloppy and wet, “I… please…” his voice was raspy and deep as he thrusted violently into you and you cried out, begging for more, needing more. Abruptly he flipped you over so you were on your stomach, he hovering over you and pulled your hair back to kiss you. You moaned as you felt him enter you again from behind, your hips rolling backward to bring him further into you. He held your hair to steady himself, the pain from the pull overstimulating as he filled you. Your mouth was full of hot saliva and you whimpered as he grew more urgent, your bodies moving together in a steady, unholy rhythm. He pushed so hard against you that you felt a sharp pain and cried out, enough that he paused for a moment to whisper into your ear, “Are you alright?” And you nod, delirious from the pleasure, and you heard him whisper, “Come for me, then.” 

You press your face into the blanket and muffle your cries as he pumps deeper, harder, and his hand wraps in front of you for his thumb to circle your clit. It’s too much. You writhed and every cell in your body seized, tensing in preperation until you heard him groan gutturally, his hot climax filling you as your own climax roiled through you. The unadulterated bliss that pulsed through you was divine, both of your bodies moving in shared harmony, in your shared symphony of pleasure. Gale collapsed onto you, his lips pressing to your ear and neck as he murmured praises, how much he loved you, how much he adored you and when your breath returned to you, you rolled onto your back, cupping his face in your hands. “Mortality has its perks..” You murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as you smirked. 

Gale laughed, pulling you tighter to his chest, kissing your forehead. You settled into a comfortable silence, allowing the boat to rock you as you both marveled at how lucky you both were to have one another. “I can’t wait to explore your body a thousand more ways… eternity wouldn’t be enough for me.” 

[rainforestakiie]

hello everyone, i am back with my new omegaverse au.

i can't wait for you all to read. if you remember my full moon prompt from harvest, this is heavily based on it. i am writing this for @inubaki i saw your new request and it inspired me to write this new au.

i hope you enjoy part 01. i can't wait to post part 02. this will be an omegaxomega story again because it's my favorite~ with possessive and dark lucifer, naive and confused adam.

it's not really a swap au, so adam won't fall with lucifer this time. i'm sorry, everyone. it's going to follow my full moon mini story, so that will be rewritten and added to this au. anyway! i hope you all will enjoy and let me know what you think~

Full Moon

Part 01 - Part 02 - Part 03

Mini AU

At the dawn of existence, before the world had found its rhythm, chaos gave birth to a single, luminous creation: a moon. But this was no ordinary moon, no pale orb hanging in the skies of mortal lands. No, this moon was a celestial marvel, vast and wondrous, its radiance a gentle blue that shimmered like liquid silver. It pulsed with an unearthly glow, its surface rippling as though formed of water from some forgotten, enchanted realm. Thousands of starry fragments seemed trapped within it, glimmering and sparkling, each twinkle whispering secrets of the infinite. This moon was not merely a light in the void; it was life itself, the very cradle of creation. The mortals would come to know it as the Heart of Life.

It was beneath this cosmic beacon that Lucifer came into being. He remembered nothing before that moment—no echoes of thought, no whispers of time. One instant, there was nothing; in the next, he simply was. His first sensation was sharp and jarring: an icy cold that stabbed at his newly formed skin, igniting an instinctual flare of terror in his core. His pale, fragile form trembled and twisted, spilling forth onto the shimmering, reflective platform beneath the moon, a surface as smooth and enigmatic as the moon itself.

Then it happened. The moon’s ethereal light caressed him, and his fragile back split open with a searing, almost beautiful pain. From the rupture emerged six towering wings, their edges dripping with stardust, each feather gleaming as though crafted from the night sky itself. They unfolded in a slow, trembling arc, spilling radiance into the void.

In those first fragile moments, Lucifer was overwhelmed—terrified, confused, and trembling beneath the enormity of existence. But then, as his gaze lifted, his wide, unseeing eyes caught the moon's reflection. Its silvery glow filled his vision, granting him sight, and with it, understanding. The fear melted away, replaced by a warmth so profound it wrapped around his very soul. In that instant, he no longer felt lost. The moon’s light cradled him, whispered to him, and he felt safe. He felt whole.

And for the first time, Lucifer smiled, his heart quietly aglow with a happiness that was ancient and eternal.

Lucifer stood tall, a quiet confidence radiating from his pale, stardust-kissed form. His bare feet hovered just above the shimmering expanse of the moon’s surface, his toes brushing its soft, silvery glow as if testing its touch. He stretched his wings wide, the six magnificent appendages arching outward, their feathers dripping with glimmers of light that seemed alive. Tilting his head back, he basked in the moon's radiant embrace, the soft glow washing over him like a tender lover’s caress. For a moment, the void felt full, brimming with the moon’s quiet adoration.

Then he heard it.

A voice, gentle as a sigh, rippled through the silence, weaving its way into his very soul. It was not male nor female but something far beyond, a melody of existence itself. The moon was speaking to him.

"My Morningstar," it whispered, its tone carrying an ancient tenderness, "you have awakened."

The words curled around him, soft as silk, yet heavy with purpose. Lucifer’s breath hitched as he lowered his gaze to the moon’s surface, his reflection gazing back at him with those glowing, celestial eyes that mirrored the moon’s very essence.

"You are the first, my Morningstar," the moon continued, its voice brimming with a quiet pride. "The first archangel born of my light, and the only one who will ever bear the title of Omega. You are unique. Precious. From this moment, you will carry a duty unlike any other."

Lucifer stood silent, his pale lips slightly parted as he listened, confusion and unease prickling at the edges of his thoughts. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as they searched the endless abyss surrounding him. Far in the distance, a flicker caught his attention—a faint flame, no larger than the tip of a pin, burning in defiance of the darkness.

"That," the moon’s voice said softly, "is the Sun of Passion, where your brothers will rise. They are the Alphas, born from fire, brimming with light and recklessness. They are every bit the sun’s reflection—burning brightly, passionately, and fiercely."

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on the distant flame, his celestial eyes squinting as though it would reveal more if he stared long enough. He turned back toward the moon, confusion evident on his delicate features.

"And you," the moon’s voice murmured, "are their balance. Your purpose, my Morningstar, is to unite with an Alpha. To create. To bring forth a new wave of angels into the universe."

The words struck him like a blow, heavy and unwelcome. Lucifer’s expression twisted, his lips pulling downward into a frown. The idea of submission, of yielding to this so-called Alpha, made something churn deep within him. He pressed his hand to his stomach, as if trying to suppress the sickness threatening to rise.

"I don’t want that," he whispered sharply, his voice trembling like a fragile thread about to snap. "I don’t want to submit to them."

The moon’s light dimmed ever so slightly, as though it had heard him but chose not to answer. The silence that followed felt vast, echoing his discontent, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Lucifer turned back to the tiny flicker of the sun, its distant flame pulsing with an intensity that made his stomach tighten. Slowly, he sank to his knees, his form folding into the moon’s shimmering waters. The silvery surface lapped at him, cool and comforting, but it could not soothe the storm raging within. His wings drooped, their radiant light dimming as he buried his face in his hands.

His moonlit eyes lifted once more, scanning the endless plane of the moon’s surface. He knew no Alpha could touch this sacred place. He was safe here, for now. Yet the thought of what awaited—of mating with something born of fire, something created to command—made his chest ache with defiance.

"I don’t want that," he whispered again, the words sharper this time, almost cutting against the silence.

The moon did not reply. Its voice, once so gentle and constant, had withdrawn, leaving Lucifer alone with his rebellion, his fears, and his refusal to accept the fate laid before him.

The first time Lucifer encountered an Alpha, it had been nothing short of unpleasant. Their presence was overwhelming, their arrogance suffocating, and their belief in their own superiority over Omegas left an ache in Lucifer’s chest that refused to fade. To them, Omegas were meant to be beneath them—submissive, pliable, obedient. The very thought turned his stomach. He had avoided them ever since, choosing solitude over their oppressive aura.

Lucifer, almost bare save for the moonlit feathers that adorned his pale form, moved with quiet grace. The soft plumage grew like a second skin, shielding his most intimate places and draping him in a natural elegance. Moon-white and shimmering blue, the feathers lined his arms and legs, caressed his collarbone, and framed his wrists and ankles like celestial jewelry. Two small, delicate wings sprouted from the sides of his head, their soft flutter stirring faint sparkles across his cheeks. He looked like something born of dreams, fragile and yet impossibly radiant.

Stretching his larger wings, he gently combed his fingers through their soft feathers, removing the stardust that clung to them from his exploration of the new stars that had begun to dot the cosmos. The moon had urged him to leave its comforting waters, to see the wonders beyond its light. At first, Lucifer had resisted, reluctant to leave the only place that truly felt like home. But curiosity had won out.

He had landed on a newborn star, his bare feet sinking slightly into its gleaming surface, the golden light beneath his touch warm and alive. His delicate hands traced its smooth expanse, and for the first time, Lucifer felt the pulse of new light—untamed, unshaped, beautiful. His moonlit blue eyes reflected the star's brilliance, shifting to a luminous gold as he smiled softly.

"Ah… you will be the Morningstar," he murmured, his voice tender, almost reverent. A chuckle escaped his lips, light and airy, as he settled back on the balls of his feet. "Like me."

He sighed, his wings twitching as he pulled them closer, beginning to preen the feathers with his fingertips. A few of the plumes shimmered faintly with the golden light of the star, and Lucifer’s gaze lingered on them in quiet awe.

"Oh," he whispered, lowering his gaze to the star beneath him. "You’re amazing."

As if responding to his words, the star quivered beneath his touch, its light gathering and forming into a tiny orb of pure golden brilliance. The orb floated upward, shimmering and sparkling, a miniature star cradled within its fragile glow. Lucifer gasped softly, cupping his stardust-covered hands beneath it, holding it close to his face.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

The star twinkled in reply, and Lucifer’s heart stirred—a quiet, strange rhythm that was new and unfamiliar. Time slipped away as he sat there, the golden orb held tenderly in his hands. When his legs began to weaken, trembling beneath him, he didn’t notice. He only had eyes for the star. Slowly, almost instinctively, he tilted his face forward, his long, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. He pressed his lips to the orb in a soft, delicate kiss.

It shone brighter, pulsing in response to his touch, and Lucifer couldn’t help but grin.

"I’m Lucifer," he said softly, his voice a gentle hum. "The Morningstar Archangel."

The star flickered, its golden light shimmering as if in reply.

"I’m… an Omega, apparently," he added, a slight laugh escaping his lips. His gaze softened as he watched the orb sparkle. "The only Omega archangel. There are many Alpha archangels, though."

Lucifer sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the words settled over him.

"Alphas are supposed to dominate Omegas," he murmured, his voice quieter now, tinged with melancholy. "It means I’m supposed to… submit. To them. And…"

He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line before he shook his head. "I don’t like that."

The star flickered softly, as if listening to him, its golden glow pulsing gently against his hands.

"I don’t want to submit. I don’t want to mate with an Alpha," he continued, his words spilling out like confessions to the tiny star. "I don’t want to create a new wave of angels. I don’t want to… surrender myself to someone who thinks they’re better than me. That’s what they think, you know. The Alphas. They think I’m beneath them. That I’m supposed to bow."

His fingers tightened slightly around the orb, though he was careful not to harm it.

"But I’m not," he said, his voice firmer now, though still soft. "I’m not beneath them. And I don’t want to be bound to this fate."

The star shone brighter, as though in agreement, and Lucifer laughed softly, a bittersweet sound.

"You understand, don’t you?" he whispered, his lips curving into a faint smile. "You’re new, just like me. You don’t want someone telling you what you’re meant to be, either."

The orb twinkled, its light dancing across Lucifer’s moonlit skin, and for a moment, he felt understood, comforted. He leaned closer to it, his wings curling protectively around him as he whispered his thoughts into the golden glow.

Lucifer cradled the golden orb in his stardust-streaked hands, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against its warm, delicate surface. He wasn’t sure if it truly understood him, if it could feel the ache that bled through every whispered word. Yet the way it sparkled, the way it twinkled as though it were smiling at him, made his chest tighten with a flicker of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, it did.

Bringing it closer, Lucifer pressed another gentle kiss to the center of the orb, his lips lingering against its radiant warmth. A sigh escaped him, soft and yearning, as he rested his cheek against its golden glow.

"Can’t I be yours instead?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He nuzzled his face into the star, his pale lashes fluttering shut. "Can’t you be mine? Can’t we be together instead?"

The orb shivered faintly in his hands, its light pulsing in soft, rhythmic waves. But no voice came, no answer, only the steady sparkle of its golden glow. Lucifer sighed again, his heart heavy.

"I wish it was that simple," he murmured, his breath warming the surface of the orb.

From that moment on, Lucifer refused to let the Morningstar orb drift away from him. It became his constant companion, a small light in the vast abyss that felt too cold and empty without it. He carried it wherever he went, held it close to his chest as though it might dissolve into nothingness if he let go.

When he rested, he would lay upon the silken surface of the moonlit waters, the orb cradled against him like a precious jewel. His wings, vast and soft, curled around them both, their feathery tips brushing lightly against the orb’s surface. Sometimes, he would stroke the golden light with his fingertips, his touch delicate, reverent.

"You’re all I need," he would whisper, his voice trembling with quiet desperation. "You’re enough for me. I don’t need anyone else."

The star would shimmer in response, twinkling like a thousand tiny suns trapped within its core. Lucifer would smile faintly, pressing his lips to it again and again, soft kisses that spoke of longing, of love, of a silent plea to never be left alone again.

His wings became an extension of his affection, their feathery edges tickling the orb, coaxing it to twinkle brighter. The golden light flickered playfully, as if responding to his gentle teasing, and Lucifer would laugh—a soft, airy sound that carried both joy and sorrow.

"Do you like that?" he would ask, brushing his feathers across the orb with deliberate care. "Does it feel nice? I hope it does. I hope… I hope you’re happy with me."

When the star’s light grew brighter in response, Lucifer’s heart swelled. It didn’t matter if it couldn’t speak, if it couldn’t truly understand. The way it glowed, the way it pulsed so gently against his touch, made him feel just a little less lonely in the infinite expanse of the void.

He wouldn’t let it drift away—not for a moment. If it tried to float from his hands, he would unfurl his wings and curl them around it, guiding it back to his embrace. He would press it close, his cheek resting against its warmth, his lashes brushing its glowing surface as he whispered to it.

"Stay with me," he would plead, his voice breaking slightly. "Don’t leave me. Please. I… I don’t think I could bear it if you did."

The star never answered, but it didn’t need to. Its soft light, its playful flickers, were enough to soothe the ache in Lucifer’s chest. And so, he kept it close, holding it tighter with every passing moment, as though the very act of letting go would shatter him into pieces.

He spent his days and nights with the Morningstar orb, caressing it, kissing it, and speaking to it as though it were his closest confidant. He poured his heart into that tiny, golden light, hoping that somehow, it could feel the depth of his affection.

"You’re mine," he would whisper as he held it against his chest, his wings folding protectively around them both. "And I’m yours. That’s enough for me."

The orb twinkled softly in reply, and for the first time in his existence, Lucifer felt something close to peace.

Lucifer first met Michael on the edge of the void, where the faint golden shimmer of the Morningstar reflected against the inky blackness. Michael descended in a slow, graceful arc, his six brilliant wings radiating a warmth that reminded Lucifer of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His face was calm, kind even, his golden eyes steady as they met Lucifer’s moonlit gaze.

"Lucifer," Michael greeted, his voice low and measured, like a river flowing steadily. "I’ve been looking forward to meeting you."

Lucifer didn’t respond. He stood still, his wings slightly unfurled, his hands resting protectively over his golden orb. He was cautious, suspicious, even though Michael’s demeanor lacked the aggressive arrogance he had come to expect from the Alphas.

Michael tilted his head slightly, his expression gentle. "I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not here to demand anything of you. I only wish to know you better, as your brother."

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, the soft glow of his pale skin reflecting the faint light of the Morningstar beneath him. He didn’t reply, his silence hanging between them like an unspoken warning. He had no intention of submitting to Michael—or any Alpha.

Soon after, the others began to arrive. Gabriel was the next, his steps light and his smile bright, his honeyed words flowing as he tried to charm Lucifer. But Lucifer could hear the possessiveness beneath the surface of his flattery, the way his gaze lingered too long, assessing and covetous.

Raphael followed, more direct in his approach. His voice was firm and steady, but his eyes betrayed the same undercurrent of desire to claim what he thought was his by right. Uriel was quieter, but his penetrating gaze made Lucifer uneasy, as though the Alpha was already imagining ways to exert control over him.

Lucifer distanced himself from them, keeping his words to a minimum and his movements guarded. He tolerated their presence only because the moon had urged him to be patient. But the moment they drew too close to his Morningstar, everything changed.

It happened when Raphael’s wings cast a shadow over the golden light of the orb. Lucifer’s body tensed, his feathers ruffling as his pale lips parted in a sharp warning.

"Don’t," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Don’t step any closer."

The Alphas froze, their gazes snapping to Lucifer in surprise. They had not expected the quiet, ethereal Omega to bare his teeth, to draw himself up with such palpable defiance.

Raphael’s lips curled into a sneer, his own wings flaring wide as he took an intimidating step forward.

"You dare to order me?" he growled, his voice heavy with authority. "You forget your place, Omega."

Lucifer didn’t flinch. His moonlit eyes burned with cold fire, his wings spreading wide to shield the Morningstar beneath him. "I said, don’t land on my star."

Raphael snarled, taking another step forward as if to challenge him, but Michael quickly intervened, stepping between them. His voice was calm, yet firm as steel.

"Enough, Raphael," Michael said, placing a hand on the other Alpha’s chest. "We’re not here to quarrel."

Raphael growled low in his throat but stepped back, his glare still fixed on Lucifer.

Michael turned to Lucifer, his expression apologetic.

"I promise," he said softly, "We will not set foot on your star. You have my word."

Lucifer gave a sharp nod, but the distrust in his glare didn’t fade. He stayed on edge, his wings curling protectively around the Morningstar as he watched the Alphas with a wary intensity.

For a time, Lucifer managed to keep the Morningstar orb hidden from the others, cradling it in the safety of his wings whenever they were near. But one fateful day, he slipped.

Raphael caught sight of the golden orb, its soft glow cradled delicately in Lucifer’s hands. The Alpha’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and before Lucifer could react, Raphael stepped forward, his movements swift and decisive.

"What is this?" Raphael asked, snatching the orb from Lucifer’s grasp.

Lucifer gasped, panic flashing across his face as he lunged forward.

"Give it back!" he cried, his voice trembling with desperation.

Raphael held the orb up, his expression sceptical as he turned it over in his hands.

"This? You’re clinging to this?" he asked, shaking the orb lightly.

"Stop!" Lucifer pleaded, his wings flaring as he tried to reach for the orb. "You’re hurting them!"

Raphael let out a scoff, his lips twisting into a smirk. "Hurting it? It’s just a star, Lucifer. It has no feelings. No life."

Lucifer’s eyes widened, tears welling up as he made another desperate grab for the orb.

"Give them back!" he begged, his voice breaking. "Please, Raphael, don’t—!"

But Raphael’s grip tightened, his fingers curling around the orb. The golden light flickered, dimming as he began to squeeze.

"Enough of this nonsense," Raphael muttered. "You’re acting ridiculous—"

The orb shattered in his hands, its light bursting into a spray of golden dust that scattered into the air.

Lucifer froze, his breath hitching as he stared at the glittering remnants of his beloved Morningstar.

"No…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, his trembling hands reaching for the golden dust as if he could gather it back together.

Tears spilled down his cheeks as he tried in vain to scoop up the fragments.

"W-What did you do?" he choked out, his voice shaking with anguish.

Raphael frowned, his expression hardening as he crossed his arms.

"Are you seriously crying over a star?" he said, his tone laced with disdain.

Lucifer didn’t answer. His trembling hands clutched at the golden dust, his tears falling freely as the weight of the loss crushed him. For the first time, the light in his eyes dimmed, leaving only a hollow, aching sorrow in their place.

The golden remnants of the Morningstar orb sparkled faintly on Lucifer’s trembling hands, but the light was fading fast, dissipating into the void like a dying breath. Lucifer’s shoulders quaked as the ache in his chest grew unbearable, the raw grief twisting into something darker.

He looked up, his white eyes blazing with fury, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks. His voice erupted like thunder, raw and jagged: “How dare you!”

Raphael blinked, taken aback by the sheer force of Lucifer’s scream. He waved a dismissive hand, as though swatting away a trivial concern.

“Calm yourself, Lucifer. It’s just a star orb. Not even a real star. Do you know how many of those things are scattered across the abyss? If it means so much to you, I’ll fetch you another one.”

Lucifer’s wings flared wide, their iridescent feathers shimmering with a furious glow as his voice cracked through the air. “Another one?! That was mine! You had no right to touch it, let alone destroy it!”

Raphael’s jaw tightened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He squared his shoulders, stepping forward. “You’re overreacting. It was nothing but a bauble—an insignificant flicker of light. You’re acting like a spoiled hatchling.”

Lucifer’s fury only grew, his voice rising to a sharp screech. “That ‘bauble’ was mine! It was alive—it was my Morningstar! You don’t get to decide what it was worth! You had no right!”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed, the faint golden glow of his form intensifying as his own temper frayed.

“Watch your tone, Omega,” he snapped, his voice deep and commanding. “You forget your place! You shouldn’t be raising your voice to me—you should be on your knees, begging for forgiveness!”

Lucifer recoiled, his lip curling in disgust. His wings bristled, his glowing gaze burning with contempt.

“I will never submit to someone like you!” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you’re entitled to obedience just because you’re an Alpha? You’re nothing but a bully—a cruel, arrogant brute!”

Raphael’s fury ignited fully, his wings flaring wide as he stepped closer. “I’m an Alpha, Lucifer! That means you will obey me! You were made to submit, no matter how high you think you stand!”

The air between them crackled with tension, their opposing energies swirling like colliding storms. Raphael’s fists clenched, his wings tensing as he prepared to strike. Lucifer braced himself, his feathers shimmering like a thousand stars ready to defend their light.

Before either could make a move, a sudden gust of power tore through the space, forcing them apart. Michael landed between them, his golden wings blazing with authority as he thrust his hands outward, halting their fight.

“Enough!” Michael’s voice boomed, echoing through the void. The sheer weight of his command sent both Raphael and Lucifer stumbling back.

Raphael huffed, crossing his arms as he straightened.

“Lucifer’s being sensitive,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders as though brushing off the tension. “It was just a star orb—”

Lucifer’s voice cracked with anguish as he interrupted, his tears glistening like liquid stardust. “He killed it! My Morningstar!”

He held up his trembling, dust-covered hands as his voice broke. “It wasn’t just a star—it was mine. It was alive, and he crushed it like it was nothing!”

Michael’s sharp eyes flicked between them, his brow furrowing as he caught sight of the faint golden dust shimmering across the ground and staining Lucifer’s pale hands. His gaze softened as it returned to Lucifer, the younger angel’s grief palpable in every trembling breath.

“Lucifer…” Michael said gently, his tone calmer now. “Explain.”

Lucifer choked on a sob, clutching the remnants of the Morningstar orb to his chest. His wings sagged, curling protectively around him like a cocoon.

“It wasn’t just a star,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It was… it was mine. It understood me. It made me feel… less alone. And now it’s gone. He destroyed it like it meant nothing.”

Michael’s expression darkened as he glanced back at Raphael. “You did this?”

Raphael’s wings shifted, and he raised his chin defiantly. “It was just a star. He’s being dramatic.”

Lucifer’s anguish flared into a biting anger again as he pointed a shaking finger at Raphael. “You crushed it! You—!”

His voice broke, and he crumpled, tears falling freely.

Michael knelt beside him, his golden light dimming to a softer glow as he placed a steadying hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. His voice was quiet but firm as he said, “Lucifer, I see your pain. I understand.”

He turned his head, fixing Raphael with a sharp glare. “And you—do you understand what you’ve done?”

Raphael opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but something in Michael’s gaze stopped him. For a moment, the proud Alpha hesitated, his feathers ruffling uneasily.

Lucifer stayed curled in on himself, his heart shattered along with his Morningstar. He didn’t care if Raphael was chastised or punished. Nothing could bring back what he had lost. Nothing could fill the hollow ache inside him.

Lucifer’s breath hitched, his chest heaving as Michael’s hand rested on his shoulder, attempting to steady him. But the touch only fuelled the fire burning inside him. With a guttural growl, deep and feral, Lucifer shoved Michael’s hand away. His teeth bared; his glowing eyes sharp as shards of glass.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, his voice cracking with raw emotion. His trembling hands clenched into fists, and with a powerful burst of stardust, he launched himself to his feet. His six magnificent wings flared out, spanning wide like a storm unravelling across the abyss.

“I hate you!” he screamed, his voice reverberating in the space between them. His lips curled in pure disdain as he glared at Raphael, then Michael, then the dark expanse beyond them, as though condemning every Alpha in existence.

“I hate all you stuck-up Alphas! I will never—never—mate with any of you!”

Lucifer’s wings quivered with the force of his fury, his entire being trembling under the weight of his grief and rage.

“I will never submit to you! Not to any of you!” His voice broke on the last word, but he refused to let it soften him.

Before anyone could respond—before Michael could reach for him again or Raphael could utter another cold retort—Lucifer turned sharply. With a surge of his wings, he launched himself into the abyss, his flight desperate, frantic. The space around him blurred as he fled, leaving the stunned Alphas behind.

Lucifer’s heart thundered in his chest as he reached the familiar glow of his moon. He collapsed onto the cool surface of the moon waters, his legs folding beneath him. His hands pressed against his chest, trembling violently as sobs tore from his throat. The pale glow of the moon bathed his fragile form, soft and tender, like a mother cradling her wounded child.

“What is this feeling?” Lucifer whispered, his voice shaking as he stared up at the luminous orb. Tears streamed down his face, falling like molten stardust into the waters beneath him. His wings drooped, curling protectively around his form as though shielding him from the world.

The moon’s light pulsed gently, like a heartbeat. Its soothing voice whispered to him, soft as a breeze across still waters. “Calm yourself, my Morningstar. The Alpha does not mean to harm you.”

But the words only ignited his fury once more. Lucifer sat up, his fingers curling against the shimmering waters.

“Alphas are horrible!” he snarled, his voice cutting through the moonlight. “They’re terrible! Arrogant! Cruel!”

He slammed his fist into the water, sending ripples dancing across its surface. “I don’t want to mate with any of them! I don’t want them near me!”

The moon’s voice hummed with sadness, its glow dimming slightly. “Forgive the Alpha for his reckless actions. He is passionate but thoughtless, like the fire of his sun.”

Lucifer shook his head violently, his tears falling faster now.

“I can’t!” he sobbed, his voice raw with anguish. “I will never forgive them! I will never trust them!”

His fingers clawed at the waters beneath him, trying to grasp the reflection of the moon but finding only emptiness.

His voice softened, cracking under the weight of his grief. “I’ve lost my Morningstar… My only true lover. My only friend. The only thing I had…”

 His voice faltered, barely audible now. “And now I have no one.”

Lucifer curled into himself, his wings folding tightly around his body as though trying to shield him from the overwhelming emptiness that stretched endlessly in his heart. The moonlight continued to caress him gently, but its warmth could no longer reach the cold, hollow ache within him. The void inside him deepened, and for the first time since his creation, Lucifer felt utterly, irrevocably alone.

From that moment on, Lucifer’s heart hardened against the other archangels. His trust, fragile as glass, was shattered beyond repair. He hated them—their arrogance, their recklessness, the way they carried themselves as though the universe belonged to them. When their paths crossed, his words were sharp and curt, a glacial coldness emanating from his every glance. He kept his distance, avoiding them whenever he could. The only times he allowed their presence were the moments when duty demanded it—when he was needed to assist in the expansion of the universe, weaving the fabric of creation with his reluctant hands.

It was during one of these duties, beneath a newly formed nebula, that Lucifer felt it—a new presence, unfamiliar and strange, yet oddly soothing. His moonlit eyes drifted toward the heart of the radiant swirl, where the birth of a new archangel was taking place. Her emergence was unlike anything he had seen before, her form shimmering into being with a quiet grace that felt more like the soft hum of stars rather than the blaze of fire the Alphas carried.

Her name was Sera, and she was not like the others.

Sera was a constellation come to life, her hair cascading in waves of shimmering purple, flecked with the silver glimmer of distant stars. Her skin glowed faintly, like the quiet, ever-present light of the cosmos. And what struck Lucifer most of all—what drew him toward her like a moth to flame—was the absence of the suffocating, burning scent that clung to the Alphas. With her, there was only calm, a silence that felt like peace.

Lucifer’s curiosity bloomed, hesitant at first, but undeniable. Slowly, cautiously, he drifted closer to her. Sera noticed him, her luminous eyes warm, offering a gentle smile that lacked the sharp edge of dominance he had grown so used to. She didn’t press, didn’t demand; she merely existed, radiating a quiet kindness that soothed the raw edges of his mistrust.

For the first time in what felt like eons, Lucifer didn’t feel the need to guard himself.

As the days passed, he found himself seeking her out more and more. He watched her as she walked among the stars, her touch delicate as she caressed their light, her laughter soft and musical as she spoke to the newborn celestial bodies. She was beautiful, Lucifer realized, with a sharp pang in his chest. Not in the fiery, overwhelming way of the Alphas, but in a way that felt like home. While he reflected the moon with his ethereal glow, Sera was the embodiment of the stars themselves—twinkling, boundless, eternal.

It wasn’t long before their bond began to deepen. Sera, with her patience and calm, never pushed him, never tried to assert herself over him. Instead, she listened, her gaze steady and filled with understanding as Lucifer began to open, little by little. They spent countless hours together, drifting among the stars, their conversations weaving a tapestry of trust and friendship.

But one day, as they sat together on the edge of a glittering comet, Lucifer’s curiosity overcame him. He turned to her, his expression uncertain but earnest.

“What are you?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with awe. “You’re not an Alpha. You don’t smell like them, and you don’t live with them. But you don’t live under the moon with me, either.”

Sera tilted her head, her smile faint but amused.

“I’m something new,” she explained, her voice like the gentle rustle of starlight. “I am neither Alpha nor Omega. I am a Beta.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, his fascination immediate. “A Beta?” he echoed, leaning closer.

“What does that mean? What is it like to be a Beta?” His questions spilled out in a torrent; his excitement clear.

Sera chuckled softly, her laughter like the soft tinkling of wind chimes. She answered his questions with patience, her tone kind and unhurried. Lucifer couldn’t help but be enchanted by her. Her presence felt like a balm to the loneliness that had long since taken root in his soul.

But even as their bond deepened, there were moments that stirred the bitterness within him. Sera, ever kind and open, spent time with the Alphas too. Lucifer had seen her with them, laughing at Michael’s stories, her smile radiant as she listened intently. It made something inside him twist uncomfortably—a pang of jealousy he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He grew colder, more distant whenever the Alphas were near, his gaze sharp and guarded. Sera noticed, her expression puzzled as she watched his demeanour shift, but she never pressed him for answers. She returned to his side whenever the Alphas left, her presence steady and warm, and for a time, Lucifer allowed himself to forget the rest of the universe.

Still, the sight of her with them lingered in his mind, a reminder of the divide that seemed impossible to bridge. And though he cherished their bond, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if even Sera, with her gentle light, could truly understand the shadows that clouded his heart.

Lucifer sat cross-legged on a platform of crystallized moonlight, his hands resting delicately on his knees as the faint glow of golden magic shimmered at his fingertips. The light was fragile, flickering like a candle threatened by a gust of wind. Across from him, Sera knelt gracefully, her twinkling lavender hair cascading over her shoulders as her gentle voice guided him.

“Focus, Lucifer,” she murmured, her tone as soothing as the starlight that danced across her skin. “The magic is an extension of your will. You don’t have to force it—just let it flow. Like water.”

Lucifer furrowed his brow, the faint light trembling in his palms. He exhaled slowly, doing his best to follow her advice. The golden glow stabilized, spreading softly across his hands. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to relax, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“There you go,” Sera said with a smile of her own, leaning closer. Her presence was steady, a comforting weight that kept him grounded. “You’re doing beautifully.”

But the moment of peace shattered when she spoke again, her tone light, almost teasing. “So,” she began, tilting her head curiously, “why haven’t you picked an Alpha yet?”

The question hit Lucifer like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of tension through his body. The glow in his hands flickered violently before extinguishing altogether. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, wide with disbelief. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Sera hummed, entirely unbothered by his reaction. “You know,” she said casually, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “As an Omega, it’s your duty to choose an Alpha. To mate. That’s what you were made for, after all.”

Lucifer felt as though the air had been knocked out of his lungs. His wings stiffened, their edges trembling with suppressed emotion. “My duty?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous.

Sera nodded, entirely unperturbed by the storm brewing within him. “Of course,” she said, her tone slipping into something almost patronizing. “It’s natural for an Omega to fulfill their role. The Alphas are waiting for you to make your decision.”

“My role?” Lucifer’s voice was louder now, incredulous and tinged with anger. “You’re saying my only purpose is to… submit? To breed?”

Sera sighed, her expression soft but exasperated, as though she were speaking to a stubborn child. “Lucifer, it’s not something to be upset about. It’s just the way things are. You’re an Omega. This is what you were created for.”

Lucifer recoiled as though struck, his stardust hands clenching into fists.

“I hate the Alphas,” he hissed, his wings flaring behind him. “I will never mate with one of them.”

Her sigh deepened, the sound heavy with disappointment.

“Lucifer,” she said gently, though her tone carried an edge of impatience. “You’re being emotional. It’s not about what you want—it’s about fulfilling your purpose. You have to understand that.”

The betrayal sank into Lucifer’s chest like an icy blade. He stared at her, his voice shaking.

“You sound just like them,” he spat. “You’re no different.”

Sera hesitated, her starlit gaze flickering with something unreadable.

“Lucifer, we thought…” She trailed off, then sighed again, her voice quiet. “We thought you’d listen to me. That since you’ve grown comfortable with me, I’d be the best one to help you see reason.”

Lucifer froze. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of her words hit him.

“‘We?’” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Who’s ‘we?’”

Sera flinched, but only slightly. “The Alphas,” she admitted, her tone hesitant. “They thought I could… encourage you to fulfil your role.”

The room felt as though it had tilted on its axis. Lucifer’s chest tightened, and his voice cracked with disbelief. “So you really think I should submit? That I should bow to them?”

Sera’s gaze softened, her expression one of pity. “Lucifer,” she said gently, “it’s not about bowing. It’s about balance. About doing what’s right for creation.”

His stomach churned. He staggered to his feet, his wings trembling with fury and hurt.

“You were never my friend,” he said, his voice breaking. “You were just another one of them. Trying to control me. To dictate who I am.”

Sera stood as well, her expression turning solemn.

“I care about you, Lucifer,” she said softly. “I only want what’s best for you.”

“No,” Lucifer snapped, his voice filled with venom. “You only want what’s best for them.”

Without another word, he turned and fled, his wings propelling him back to the safety of the moon waters. Tears blurred his vision as he landed beneath the moon’s gentle glow, collapsing onto the stardust ground.

He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling with anger and heartbreak.

“I thought she was different,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I finally had someone I could trust.”

The moon’s soft light caressed him, attempting to soothe his storm of emotions. But Lucifer shook his head, the betrayal too raw to be comforted.

“I have no one,” he whispered to himself. “Not anymore.”

Eons passed in an endless, aching rhythm, time stretching like threads of starlight unraveling across the universe. Lucifer drifted further and further into solitude, his once-vivid radiance dimming to a guarded glow. He kept his distance from his brothers, his silence heavier than any spoken word. Every smile, every gesture from them felt like a calculated move, a hidden agenda. He could not—would not—forgive them. Each one, in their own way, had betrayed him, seeking to control, to manipulate, to twist him into something he refused to be. So, he turned away, withdrawing into himself, and only emerged when duty called him to help sculpt the fabric of creation.

But even creation could not heal the scars etched across his heart.

Lucifer spent most of his days curled upon his Morningstar, a golden sanctuary floating in the vast expanse of the universe. It shimmered faintly beneath him, though its once-blazing light had begun to fade. Centuries ago, its brilliance had rivalled the heavens themselves, but now its glow was dimming, as though its essence was bleeding into the void.

He ran his hands over its gilded surface, his touch tender and trembling.

"Don’t leave me," he whispered, his voice breaking. Tears welled in his moonlit eyes, threatening to spill. "Don’t disappear like my precious orb. You’re all I have left."

But the Morningstar gave no answer, save for the faintest hum of its magic, and even that seemed weaker with each passing century. Curling up against its heart, Lucifer buried his face into the warmth of its light. His wings folded around him protectively as he gazed up at the thousands of stars that adorned the abyss above him. Each one had been hung with care by the archangels—a painstaking labour of love.

Lucifer hated them. Yet, he adored their handiwork.

No Alpha or Beta dared approach the Morningstar anymore. They had learned, at last, to leave it to him. Whether out of respect or fear, Lucifer neither knew nor cared. They had also stayed away from the Moon of Life, but that was by divine decree. The Morningstar? That was Lucifer's by his own command.

Still, he didn’t acknowledge their quiet surrender. He hated them all—Michael, Raphael, Sera. Especially Sera.

Until one day, something changed.

Lucifer woke to a sensation that stirred his very soul. The air shimmered with an energy he hadn’t felt in eons. His skin sparkled, his feathers quivered, and the Morningstar beneath him pulsed faintly, as if sharing in the excitement. Around him, the Moon, the Sun, and the stars shimmered in harmony, their light brighter than he’d ever seen before.

At first, Lucifer remained where he was, his curiosity tempered by caution. He let out a soft hum, tilting his head as the stardust on his arms—the remnants of his lost lover—began to shine in response to the universe’s call. Slowly, he rose from the Morningstar, his wings stretching wide as he ascended.

Out in the boundless expanse, something magnificent was forming.

A sphere of blue and green spun into existence, its colours swirling as if locked in a gentle dance. The sight stole Lucifer’s breath. He hovered, mesmerized, as the sphere took shape, its magic radiating outwards like ripples across a celestial sea.

But then, from the edges of his vision, he saw them—his brothers and sisters, drawn to the new creation like moths to a flame.

Lucifer hesitated, his gut twisting with reluctance. He didn’t want to join them. But something about the sphere called to him, pulling him closer. Against his better judgment, he drifted toward the gathered archangels, keeping a deliberate inch of space between himself and the others.

“Sera,” he murmured, his voice low and uncertain. “What’s happening?”

Sera folded her hands over her chest, her face alight with wonder.

“Something new,” she whispered. “Something far greater than us.”

Lucifer frowned, confusion flickering in his starlit eyes. He turned his gaze upward and froze.

Above the forming sphere stood a being unlike any he had ever seen. She was vast and radiant, her six wings shimmering with the light of every star in the cosmos. Her body seemed woven from the very fabric of existence—feathers, stardust, and wisps of cosmic energy flowing together in perfect harmony.

Lucifer’s breath hitched as he stared at her.

“My name is Metatron,” she announced, her voice resounding like a symphony across the heavens. “I am the Scribe of God.”

Michael stepped forward, his expression casual but curious. “God?”

Metatron smiled, a mysterious glint in her otherworldly gaze. “Yes. God. Our Father and Mother. The Sun and the Moon. The stars and the Milky Way. All in one.”

Her wings unfolded, their light washing over them all as she turned her attention to the sphere below.

“And this…” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “This is Father’s greatest creation. This is Earth, the home of the humans.”

Lucifer blinked, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

“Humans?” he asked softly.

Metatron’s gaze flicked to him, her eyes glimmering with an unfathomable wisdom. “Yes. Humans. They will come in the centuries to follow, but for now, Father is shaping the first of their kind. A single human, crafted with the utmost care and love.”

Sera stepped closer; awe written across her face.

“Where is this human?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“In Eden,” Metatron raised her hand, her fingertips glowing like the first dawn. “Father’s garden. The human will awaken in the next century, and one of you will be tasked with guiding them.”

Lucifer’s wings twitched, his mind racing. He didn’t know whether to feel excitement or dread. A new creation, more delicate than the stars and more alive than the angels. And he would have a part to play in their story.

For the first time in centuries, he allowed himself a fragile flicker of hope. But even that, he knew, was dangerous.

Lucifer had no intention of ever seeing Eden, nor this first human that Metatron spoke of. And, to be honest, he didn’t care. He felt the excitement in the others, felt the eagerness in their movements and voices as they buzzed around the new creation, but he refused to let himself feel anything. He refused to hope. No one had ever truly been on his side, and he had learned that hope only led to disappointment, to betrayal. So, he kept to himself—isolated, withdrawn, like the distant star he had always been.

The Moon of Life became his refuge, the one part of God that still felt like his, as though it were a fragment of himself. At times, he would drift back to the Morningstar, the orb that had once shone so brightly, so full of life and magic. But each time, the fear within him grew. The orb that had once been so golden now seemed dull, losing its light, its spark, and so too did his own soul. The stardust that had once graced his hands and arms now glimmered brighter than the Morningstar itself, but even that felt like a cruel mockery of what had been.

Lucifer sank to his knees, the weight of the world pressing down on him. His wings, those silken moonlit feathers, hung limply at his sides. The golden feathers—gifts from his precious orb—had long since fallen out, each one crumbling away within his hands, no matter how carefully he tried to preserve them. They slipped through his fingers, just as everything else had. His heart ached, his chest burned with the familiar pain of loneliness.

"Please. Please, don't leave me alone," he whispered to the fading glow of the Morningstar. "Please don't die. I need you... you're all I have."

But as always, the Morningstar offered no response. It couldn’t speak, couldn’t offer comfort. Yet, it would shine, it would twinkle in reply. Now, there was only silence. The golden light beneath him flickered, dying in the same way his hopes had. Lucifer’s breath hitched as tears began to fall, slipping down his cheeks and mixing with the soft, dull glow of the Morningstar.

"I'm all alone. You're all I have," he whispered again, as if repeating it would make it less true.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the weight of his sorrow.

"Hello, Lucifer."

Lucifer stiffened, eyes wide with surprise. His heart skipped a beat, and he inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. His gaze flicked up, but only for a moment—just enough to catch a glimpse of her. Metatron. The tallest, the most magnificent of angels, standing before him like a vision made of starlight and dreams. Her form shimmered with an ethereal radiance that made everything else in the universe seem dull in comparison.

She was... beyond words. No one could describe her—she was everything and nothing, all at once. The Scribe of God. The essence of the universe itself, woven into one being. Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat, but he quickly lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by her presence. He dared not look her directly in the eye; to do so would feel like an unforgivable transgression.

"Metatron," he whispered softly, almost reverently.

He couldn’t bring himself to be bold, to demand she leave his precious Morningstar. No one, not even the other archangels, dared to tread on his star. But Metatron? She was different. She was above them all. Connected to the divine in ways the others could not even begin to comprehend.

Metatron smiled, her voice soft and mysterious. "Lucifer, I have been meaning to speak with you. I owe you an apology."

Lucifer blinked, confused by her words. He barely managed a quiet murmur of understanding.

"It’s... it’s alright," he said, though a part of him felt something stir deep within him at her apology.

She chuckled gently, the sound like the soft rustle of leaves. "It is true. I have been occupied with the formation of Earth."

 Her gaze shifted, becoming more focused. "But Eden... Eden is for the archangels. And, Lucifer... I noticed something."

Lucifer hesitated, his lips parted as he looked away, staring at the surface of the Morningstar as though it might give him some solace.

"I don’t want to work with them," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Metatron’s gaze softened, her tone still gentle and filled with curiosity.

"And why is that?" she asked, her voice carrying an unspoken understanding, as though she already knew the answer.

Lucifer struggled to find the words, his heart pounding in his chest. "Because... because they don’t care about me.”

“They never did." His voice cracked, but he bit back the tears that threatened to rise once again.

Metatron’s smile didn’t falter. "Lucifer, you are different. You are special. As an Omega, it is important that your magic is woven through Eden, as your siblings’ magic is. It is vital for the human, for all those that will follow." Her voice was firm, yet tender, like a soft lullaby carried on the wind.

Lucifer blinked, his eyes wide, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Special?" he repeated, almost breathless.

"I’m important?" The words felt foreign on his lips, as if he didn’t deserve them.

Metatron chuckled again, a warm, knowing laugh. "Of course, Lucifer. You are the beginning, the very first step in mankind’s story. Don’t you see?"

Lucifer frowned, his chest tightening. "But I’m just an Omega. I don’t... I don’t know how to help the humans or Eden."

Metatron's gaze softened, her voice tender and reassuring. "You already are helping, Lucifer. Just by being who you are."

Lucifer looked at her, feeling a fragile hope stir in the deepest corners of his soul. But it was fleeting, too delicate to hold on to. Still, her words echoed in his mind, and for the first time in centuries, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of something larger than the endless void of his own loneliness.

Lucifer's gaze remained fixed on Metatron, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, even as a flicker of hope tugged at the corners of his heart. His wings twitched nervously, the soft moonlight glistening off their delicate feathers. He couldn’t help himself—he needed to ask the question that had been gnawing at him since the moment Metatron had appeared.

"Are you planning to... force me to mate with one of the alphas?" His voice was low, laced with wariness, the old fear resurfacing in the pit of his stomach.

Metatron’s expression softened immediately, a serene smile gracing her lips, as though the question itself was too simple, too human for her.

"No, Lucifer," she said, her voice calm, reassuring. "I have no intention of forcing you to do anything, least of all something so personal. You are your own being, and I would never take that away from you."

Lucifer’s breath caught in his chest. Relief washed over him like a sudden storm breaking through the clouds, the tension in his body loosening. His wings fluttered once more, as if stretching in gratitude for the freedom he had just been granted. He let out a quiet sigh, feeling lighter than he had in what felt like forever.

"Then... then you won’t make me choose?" His voice cracked slightly, unsure of his own emotions. His heart ached with the smallest ember of hope.

Metatron’s smile remained unchanged, though her gaze softened, and there was a warmth in it that Lucifer had not expected. "I will not force you to do anything you do not wish to do.”

“But there will come a time, Lucifer, when you will need to choose. A time when you will have to decide for yourself who you wish to bond with, if you wish to bond with anyone at all." Her voice was gentle, but the weight of her words settled heavily on his chest.

Lucifer blinked, his wings flaring out slightly as he absorbed her words.

"Choose?" he repeated, the word feeling foreign, distant. His mind raced, but he couldn’t quite wrap his thoughts around it.

"What... what do you want me to do?" His voice was softer now, almost pleading, as though he were asking for a lifeline in an ocean of uncertainty.

Metatron’s eyes sparkled with a tenderness he had never seen before, and her voice became almost a whisper, like a secret meant only for him.

"I would like you to see Eden, Lucifer." She spoke slowly, each word wrapped in care, as if trying to convince him without pushing too hard. "You will understand why, once you are there."

Lucifer frowned, uncertainty creeping back into his heart. "Why? What’s in Eden that I need to see?"

 His voice was thick with doubt, though he found himself already itching with curiosity despite his reservations.

Metatron's smile remained soft, patient, almost knowing. "You will see, in time, what you need to. Eden has a way of showing things—of revealing what lies hidden in the heart. It is a place of beginnings, Lucifer. Perhaps, it will help you understand yourself better. And maybe, just maybe, it will help you see the future you have yet to choose."

Lucifer hesitated, his thoughts in turmoil. He longed to stay hidden, to keep his distance from the other archangels, from the world they had created. But something about Metatron’s words, about her unwavering certainty, made him feel that perhaps it was time to step forward—into the unknown, into the world that had been crafted without his consent, without his touch.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze still fixed on her, conflicted. The weight of her words settled over him like the quiet before a storm. Could he truly bring himself to take that step, to see what awaited him in Eden?

Finally, with a soft sigh, Lucifer stood straighter, his wings folding in tightly against his back.

"Alright," he said quietly, more to himself than to her. "I’ll go."

Metatron’s smile deepened, and for the first time, Lucifer saw a glimmer of something softer in her eyes—a flicker of pride, perhaps.

"Good," she murmured. "Trust in yourself, Lucifer. You are more capable than you know."

He nodded slowly, though the unease in his heart remained. Whatever Eden held for him, he couldn’t hide from it forever. It was time to face it, even if he didn’t yet understand why.

Leaving the warmth of the Morningstar was a difficult task for Lucifer. Its familiar golden glow had always been his only solace, the one thing that never wavered, never abandoned him—until now. But Metatron had asked, and despite the unease twisting in his chest, Lucifer couldn't bring himself to refuse her. There was something about her presence that both calmed and stirred him, a quiet pull that he couldn't explain. So, with a reluctant sigh, he spread his wings wide and flew toward the heart of the universe, where Earth was still being formed under Metatron’s careful hands.

It was forbidden, of course. No archangel was allowed to set foot upon Earth just yet—Metatron herself had deemed it too unstable, too fragile. But even so, Lucifer couldn't tear his gaze away. Raphael had called it ugly, Uriel had said it was unpleasant, and Sera had described it as merely a "work in progress." But Lucifer, in his quiet way, thought it was breathtaking.

The rawness of it, the life brewing in the core of its chaos—it was nothing like anything he had ever witnessed. Metatron’s magic swirled around it, delicate and intricate, weaving through the stars in a dance that was both beautiful and unearthly. Lucifer could feel it deep within his bones, a soft hum that resonated with his very being. His skin shimmered, stardust rippling across his form as if the magic itself had awakened something dormant within him.

The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was new. It was alive. It was wonder itself. And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer felt something akin to peace wash over him. His anxiety about the others, the fear that had plagued him for so long, faded into the background, replaced by a strange sense of belonging.

 Maybe... maybe this isn’t so bad, he thought, his heart fluttering just a little as the stars continued to dance in the distance.

"Lucifer!" The voice that pierced the serenity of the moment was cheerful, almost childlike, and it made Lucifer’s wings jerk instinctively.

He turned, his gaze falling on the smallest of the alphas—Gabriel. Lucifer had never really spoken with Gabriel; most of his encounters were dominated by Michael’s commands or Raphael’s biting words. Gabriel, however, had always kept to the sidelines with Uriel, his presence less imposing, more... withdrawn.

Lucifer tilted his head curiously as he approached the smaller archangel.

"Hi," he murmured, his voice soft and awkward, the tension from earlier still lingering in the air.

Gabriel grinned brightly, his eyes sparkling with something almost contagious. "Metatron said you’d be coming to Eden with me! I didn’t actually think you would!"

His voice was full of excitement, his eagerness clear.

Lucifer blinked, confused by Gabriel’s sudden burst of energy. Metatron wants me to work with an alpha?

The thought settled uneasily in his mind, but he didn't have the chance to dwell on it for long. Gabriel was already speaking again.

"Well, I’m here," Lucifer replied coolly, though his heart was still racing slightly. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about this new development.

"But listen—" he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a firmer tone, "I’ll work with you. But don’t think for a second that means you can dominate me. I won’t submit to you."

Gabriel flinched, visibly shrinking back from the sharpness in Lucifer’s tone. His hands twisted nervously in front of him, and his lips tugged into an uncomfortable smile.

"I don’t want to dominate you," he stammered, his voice uncertain. "I just... want to go down to Eden."

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, his wings fluttering nervously as he studied the smaller archangel. Do I believe him?

His instincts told him to be cautious, to hold his ground, but something in Gabriel’s demeanour made Lucifer question his initial reaction. Perhaps, just perhaps, this one was different.

With a sharp nod, Lucifer sighed in resignation. "Where is Eden, then? If it’s not on Earth?"

Gabriel’s face immediately brightened, the tension evaporating from his form like a cloud dispersing in the wind. He spun around in a delighted whirl, his wings spreading wide as he pointed toward a distant light in the darkness.

"This way!" he exclaimed, his voice full of enthusiasm.

Lucifer followed Gabriel, his mind still swirling with doubt, but the strange, magnetic pull of Metatron’s magic urged him forward.

den was not on Earth. No, it existed on a small star-rock, one that seemed to swell with life with every passing heartbeat of the universe. Lucifer hovered behind Gabriel, his moonlit eyes glimmering with curiosity as he gazed down at the strange orb beneath them. The surface was unlike anything he had ever touched before—warm, soft, and curiously alive.

The texture of the rock was wet, almost sticky, and it clung to his feet like the wet embrace of a forgotten dream. He grimaced slightly as he lifted one foot, examining the brown specks that clung to the soles.

“That's mud, or dirt,” Gabriel explained eagerly, his voice bright, almost infectious. He was positively bouncing with excitement, his wings fluttering around him like a giddy child. “Metatron said the basics of Eden will form from her magic, but we’re meant to create things that will benefit the human once they awaken. Oh! And—Metatron also said the human will be tasked with naming the things we create!”

Lucifer barely heard the latter part, his attention focused on the strange bumps rising from the dirt. They were like the star-rocks, yet not. Their colour was pale, powdery, like the dust of forgotten stars, and their surfaces glistened with an iridescent sheen. Lucifer’s brows furrowed, his fingers tracing the odd texture. He had never encountered anything like this before. It was new. The mystery of it tugged at something deep within him, a feeling he couldn't quite name, but that danced on the edge of his thoughts like a forbidden dream.

Metatron also said we're to develop Eden together!" Gabriel continued, his voice full of eager warmth. "Until it’s a reasonable size for the first human. Then... only one of us will be allowed to live in Eden with them."

Lucifer’s head snapped up at that, his wings twitching slightly as he gazed at Gabriel, who paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"Something about too many of us will overwhelm the human, but one of us will help the human build a connection, help them bond..." Gabriel’s voice trailed off, and he looked away, as though the weight of this responsibility was just beginning to settle upon him.

Lucifer looked down at the star-rock again, trying to keep the unease from his voice. "Would the human be an alpha... or an omega?"

Gabriel froze, his eyes widening slightly, his fingers fumbling nervously with each other. For a moment, he said nothing, and when he spoke, his words were hesitant, awkward. “Um… Metatron said humans wouldn’t be like us."

Lucifer’s heart sank, a bitter chill creeping through him. His moonlit gaze darkened. “So they’ll be free from either?”

His voice was low, almost mocking, though it cracked at the edges with something unspoken. A deep, aching sense of longing gnawed at him.

 Lucky them, he thought bitterly.

Gabriel glanced at him with a sheepish smile, his wings twitching nervously as he looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

“Yeah... lucky them...” he murmured, but there was no joy in his voice, only a quiet, unspoken understanding that the weight of what they had all been made to be was more than just their nature—it was a prison.

Lucifer stood in silence for a moment, his eyes lingering on the small, strange world they were helping to shape. A place so new, so full of potential... yet so far removed from anything he had ever known. His heart was a vast emptiness, and it was starting to feel like there would never be a way out.

Lucifer's feet moved on their own, no longer tethered to Gabriel's eager chatter. The pulse in the air, a soft thrum that seemed to hum with the essence of the world itself, drew him deeper into the heart of the star-rock. It was subtle, like the quiet echo of a forgotten song, but it reverberated through the ground beneath him, vibrating through the dirt, up through his bare feet, and winding its way up his legs until it settled in his chest. It was a feeling he couldn’t name, but it was all-consuming, like the faint brush of a long-lost memory.

His wings unfurled, stretching out wide, as though they too were responding to this pulse, this call that seemed to beckon from within the very stone beneath him. The six wings of the moon beat gently in the air as he moved forward, his thoughts scattering like dust, his focus narrowing as he neared the centre of the rock. There, at the heart of the strange world, he lowered himself to his knees. The pulse was louder here, clearer, almost as if the rock itself was breathing.

Lucifer lowered his hands to the mud, feeling the soft, cool earth against his fingertips. His breath deepened, the golden glow of his magic slowly unfurling around him, shimmering with an energy that felt as old as the stars themselves. He closed his eyes, allowing the pulse to envelop him, to guide him. His golden magic swirled from his hands, spilling out into the earth below him, spreading like a warm river into the dirt.

And then, something began to shift. The dirt trembled, a small movement, like a heartbeat, and then… a sprout. Green tendrils broke through the soil, reaching upward as if drawn by an invisible force. Lucifer's breath caught in his throat, his fingers twitching as he felt the life forming beneath him. The earth responded, swelling and softening in the wake of his magic.

Gabriel, who had been standing a few paces behind, gasped in wonder as the first blades of grass sprouted around Lucifer’s hands.

 "What did you do?" Gabriel asked, his voice breathless, wide-eyed with shock and awe.

Lucifer shrugged, his voice low and distant, almost in a trance.

“I just... listened to what Eden wanted,” he murmured, his eyes still closed, as if the very air around him had become a song he was hearing for the first time. There was a peace in the earth beneath his hands, a resonance in the pulse that made him feel as if he were not creating but joining something far greater than himself.

The dirt seemed to respond to him, shaping itself into life with each breath he took. His magic, once cold and distant, was now blending with the very essence of this place, intertwining with the pulse of Eden itself. Lucifer’s heart stilled, his thoughts fading away. In this moment, it was as though he had found a place where he didn’t have to fight, a place where he could simply be.

The grass continued to grow around him, reaching up towards the sky, its green blades bending gently with the breeze. Each blade was different, each one unique, but all of them were born from the same seed, nurtured by the pulse beneath his fingertips. The land itself was waking, responding to his touch.

Lucifer sat back on his heels, his wings folding gently behind him as he surveyed the scene. It was simple, but it was beautiful. There was no need for grand designs or creations, no need for a master plan. The earth was alive with possibilities, and for the first time in centuries, Lucifer felt the smallest flutter of hope.

Gabriel stared at him in disbelief, the excitement in his eyes growing.

"That… that was incredible," he said quietly, stepping forward, as if unsure of how to approach what he had just witnessed.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, his wings twitching as he finally looked at Gabriel, who stood there, wide-eyed, in awe of the simple beauty of what had just been created.

"Eden speaks to us all, Gabriel," Lucifer said softly, almost to himself. "It’s not about forcing things to grow. It’s about listening. About being a part of it."

Gabriel blinked at him, his confusion evident, but the sincerity in Lucifer’s voice seemed to ease his discomfort. For a brief moment, Lucifer allowed himself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was something here for him after all.

Time had no meaning here. The universe flowed like a river of stardust, and everything around him seemed to exist in a haze of soft glows and shifting light. Lucifer sat upon his fading Morningstar, a silent observer, his gaze fixed on the endless drift of glowing stones that glided past him in a slow, languid dance. Each one shone with its own unique hue, casting delicate ripples of colour across the dark expanse of the cosmos. He watched them pass, his thoughts as fleeting as the stars themselves.

The golden dust that clung to his arms caught the starlight, shimmering with a soft, mournful gleam. Lucifer ran his fingers over the sparkling remnants, the dust falling in delicate trails, only to rise and scatter again. His wings, pale and delicate as moonlight, flickered softly in the dark, their faint glow a contrast to the overwhelming silence that hung in the air. He held a small clump of mud from Eden in his hands, idly squeezing it, watching as it crumbled and reformed, falling apart only to return to its shape. It was a small, quiet act, a distraction from the loneliness that wrapped around him like a shroud.

The other archangels were hard at work on Eden, their devotion to the creation of this new world tireless and obsessive. But Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care as deeply as they did. He helped, yes, in his own way, but there was no yearning in his heart, no pull toward the star rock that had captivated the others. The magic of it, the excitement of building something so new, felt foreign to him. It wasn’t the same. Nothing felt the same.

Lucifer lifted the clump of mud to his face, the cool weight of it oddly grounding. His moonlit eyes flickered softly, not quite focusing as his magic pooled in his chest. He exhaled, breathing warmth into the mud, and slowly, something stirred within. A tiny green sprout pushed its way through the soil, delicate and fresh. Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat as he released a soft hum, watching with wonder as the small leaf unfurled beneath his fingertips. The feeling was gentle, like something tender, fragile, and new.

He had never truly understood why the others poured themselves into Eden with such fervor. What was it about this world that called to them so strongly? But as he traced his fingers over the new life he had created with nothing but his touch, something stirred within him. The leaf was a part of him, somehow. He had made it grow. There was magic in this world, in this place—and maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as foreign to him as he had once thought.

Lucifer slowly laid the clump of mud back down, his hands lingering for a moment before he lifted his gaze to the distant glow of Eden. His fingers drummed absently against the golden surface of the Morningstar, the sound soft and distant. He hadn’t visited Eden in a while, he realized. There had been no urge, no pull to return. But now, something tugged at him, a quiet whisper at the edge of his mind.

A soft sound escaped his throat, a murmur that spoke of something deeper—of longing, or maybe just an aching emptiness. He wasn't sure. He was only certain that, for the first time in ages, the thought of returning to Eden didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a possibility.

Lucifer descended toward Eden, his six wings cutting through the soft, shimmering atmosphere that surrounded the star rock. But this time, as he neared, it wasn’t the muddy, barren surface he remembered. Eden had transformed. It had grown, flourished. The star rock pulsed with life, glowing in shades of green and white. Lucifer’s feet touched the surface gently, but instead of mud, he found himself standing on something soft, cool, and vibrant. Grass. He knelt slowly, running his fingers over the delicate blades, their texture a wonder beneath his touch. The green seemed to glow faintly, alive with something more than just sunlight—it carried magic, a presence.

Rising, Lucifer began to wander through Eden, his steps slow and deliberate as he took in the changes. There were trees now, their canopies arching high above, leaves shimmering faintly as if kissed by stars. Flowers dotted the grass, their petals opening lazily to bask in an unseen glow. The air was richer, heavier, filled with a warmth Lucifer had never felt before—a warmth that seemed to seep into his skin, curling around his heart in a way that both soothed and unnerved him. Eden was alive in a way that felt almost sentient, as if it breathed alongside him, its heartbeat faintly echoing through the ground beneath his feet.

The pulse of Eden grew stronger as he wandered further, guiding him until he came upon the heart of this burgeoning paradise. There, in the centre of it all, was Metatron. She sat with her legs folded beneath her, her eyes shut, her hands resting lightly on the grass. Her wings, immense and radiant, were puffed out around her like a cocoon of shimmering light. But it was her magic that captured Lucifer’s attention. It poured from her in gentle waves, slipping into the soil, the grass, the trees, weaving itself into the very fabric of Eden. As it did, the world around her seemed to shift, brighten, grow. The trees reached higher, the flowers bloomed fuller, the grass thickened into a lush carpet. Even the air seemed to hum with life, a warm, golden energy that Lucifer had never experienced before.

He stood still, watching her in silence. He didn’t dare disturb her, but neither could he leave. There was something mesmerizing about her, about the way her magic worked so seamlessly with Eden. Her presence was calm and steady, yet impossibly powerful. It made him feel small but not insignificant, like he was part of something far greater than himself.

At last, Metatron raised her hands from the ground, the glow around her dimming slightly as she opened her eyes. Her gaze met Lucifer’s, and he immediately looked down, caught like a child sneaking a forbidden glance.

“Lucifer,” she greeted, her voice soft but radiant with warmth. A gentle smile spread across her lips as she rose to her feet, her movements graceful, almost otherworldly. “It has been far too long.”

Lucifer shuffled awkwardly, his wings folding tightly against his back. He didn’t respond, but Metatron didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she turned, her hand gesturing for him to follow.

“Would you like to see something, Lucifer? Something special?” Her voice carried a note of mystery, and despite himself, Lucifer’s curiosity stirred.

“Something the others haven’t seen yet?” he asked, his lips twitching upward in the faintest hint of a smug smile. He didn’t like admitting it, but the thought of being the first to see whatever Metatron had in mind filled him with a quiet thrill.

“Come,” Metatron said simply, leading the way.

Lucifer followed, his eyes wide as he took in just how much Eden had grown. The landscape stretched farther than he remembered, and above them, the sky itself had changed. It wasn’t the dark, star-speckled void he was used to. It was pinkish, warm, like a sunrise frozen in time. The light bathed Eden in soft hues, adding to the surreal beauty of the place.

As they neared the centre, something unusual came into view. A bed of flowers spread out like a woven tapestry, but at its heart was something far larger—a single, enormous bud. Its petals were tightly closed, a deep, velvety red threaded with faint golden veins that seemed to pulse with life. Small, glowing buds framed it, like sentinels guarding a treasure.

Metatron stepped closer, her hands beginning to sparkle faintly as she reached toward the flower.

“This is special,” she said, her voice almost reverent. She turned to look at Lucifer, her smile inviting. “Come closer, Lucifer. I would like you to rest your hand upon it.”

Lucifer frowned, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

“Why?” he asked, his voice cautious.

“Because you are important,” she replied simply, her tone gentle but firm.

Hesitant, Lucifer stepped closer. As he neared the flower, he began to notice the golden veins more clearly. They pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, their glow strangely familiar. His breath caught as realization stirred within him. The colour, the magic—it reminded him of his own. He raised a hand slowly, his fingers trembling as he pressed them against the petal. It was soft, impossibly so, and warm in a way that sent a shiver through him. The moment he touched it, a fantastical heat rushed through his body, buzzing under his skin and pulling him closer.

“What... what is this?” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his other hand against the petal.

The heartbeat within the flower grew stronger, echoing through his chest, tugging at something deep within him. Before he realized it, he was leaning forward, his cheek resting against the petal, his body melting into its warmth.

A lump formed in his throat as a strange ache spread through his chest. His eyes burned, and for a moment, he thought he might cry. This feeling—it was familiar, hauntingly so. But no matter how hard he tried; he couldn’t place it. All he knew was that it filled the hollow spaces inside him, even as it left him trembling with longing.

 Lucifer’s breath hitched as his eyes burned, tears threatening to spill. He couldn’t stop the ache in his chest, nor the overwhelming urge to press himself further into the flower bud. Its warmth wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, filling every crack in his soul he hadn’t realized was there. He wanted to stay—no, needed to stay. He wanted to press closer, to hold the petals as if they might slip away, to cling to this strange, inexplicable connection and never let go.

But he couldn’t. With a sharp inhale, Lucifer forced himself to pull back, peeling his hands and cheek away from the soft, trembling petals. The loss was immediate, like stepping out of sunlight into icy shadows. He stumbled a step backward, rubbing at his damp eyes with his palms, his shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. The ache didn’t leave—it lingered, raw and pulling, but he ignored it as best he could. His moonlit eyes turned toward Metatron, who stood quietly, watching him with that same enigmatic calm.

“What are you?” Lucifer asked, his voice strained, nearly breaking. He sniffled, embarrassed by the question and how desperate it sounded.

Metatron tilted her head slightly, her expression as serene as ever.

“I am the Scribe of God,” she answered simply, though there was a weight to her voice that suggested layers beneath the words.

Lucifer frowned, shaking his head in frustration. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

His voice carried a sharpness, but beneath it was a plea, fragile and uncertain.

Metatron hummed softly, stepping closer to the flower bud with a measured grace. Lucifer felt his wings twitch, a primal urge rising within him to flare them out and block her path. He didn’t want her to touch the flower—his flower. But he clenched his jaw and kept still. He had no right to claim it, no matter how deeply it called to him. The flower belonged to Metatron. It always had.

“I am neither an Alpha nor an Omega,” Metatron said, her voice soft, as if speaking to the flower itself. “I am both. I am nothing like them, and yet, I am them.”

Lucifer sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his golden hair.

“You make no sense,” he muttered, his frustration mixing with the lingering ache in his chest.

Metatron laughed—a quiet, melodic sound that only seemed to deepen the mystery around her. Lucifer’s gaze shifted back to the massive flower bud, his expression softening into wonder. It loomed before him like a secret waiting to be unravelled, its petals pulsing faintly with life, its golden veins glimmering in rhythm with some heartbeat he couldn’t quite name.

“What does it conceal?” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “What’s inside it?”

His voice carried an edge of longing, the curiosity and yearning intertwining so tightly it made his chest tighten.

Metatron said nothing, merely smiling before turning and walking away, her presence fading into the vibrant Eden around them. But Lucifer couldn’t follow her. His feet remained rooted near the flower, his gaze locked onto its mysterious beauty. The tug in his chest grew stronger, and it made him whimper softly. He couldn’t stay away. He didn’t want to. Every time he tried to stray too far from the flower, the pull brought him back, an invisible tether he couldn’t escape.

He found himself returning to the flower bud time and time again, unable to resist its silent call. When no one else was around—not even Metatron—Lucifer would kneel beside it, his golden Morningstar dusting shimmering faintly as he pressed himself against the petals. He hugged it like a lifeline, his cheek resting against its warmth. And in those moments, he felt peace—fleeting but real, like nothing else in the universe could touch him.

Sometimes, when he was sure he was entirely alone, he would press soft kisses to the petals. They trembled beneath his touch, and he beamed, a rare, unguarded smile spreading across his face. The flower responded to him—it felt him. That knowledge filled him with a quiet, almost childlike joy.

Lucifer caressed the petals gently, his fingers tracing the golden veins as if committing them to memory. He whispered to the flower in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, words that made no sense even to himself. They weren’t prayers, weren’t confessions—they were just fragments of feelings, thoughts, and dreams he couldn’t fully name. And yet, saying them made him happy. The flower felt alive beneath his touch, as though it listened, as though it understood.

Lucifer sighed softly, his forehead resting against the flower.

“What are you?” he whispered again, this time to the flower itself.

But unlike with Metatron, he didn’t need an answer. The flower’s presence, its warmth, was enough. And for the first time in a long time, Lucifer didn’t feel alone.

~#~

The Morningstar dimmed, its radiant gold fading into muted embers. Lucifer stood helplessly at its edge, his hands trembling as he poured his magic into its dying light. He whispered pleas under his breath, his voice cracking as he begged it to hold on. The dusting of gold that had once danced along his arms now dulled, flickering weakly in response to the fading star. His wings shivered, casting faint reflections in the diminishing glow. No matter what he did—no matter how much of himself he gave—it wasn’t enough. The Morningstar was dying, and there was nothing he could do to save it.

“Please…” Lucifer whispered, his voice hoarse. His moonlit eyes glistened, itchy and aching, but he refused to let the tears fall. “Don’t leave me too.”

And then it was gone. The Morningstar’s brilliance vanished, leaving behind a cold, empty shadow where warmth and light had once been. For a moment, Lucifer couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The silence was deafening, wrapping around him like chains. His chest tightened painfully, and he clutched at his heart as if to stop it from shattering.

“Lucifer…” Michael’s voice broke through the stillness. It was soft at first, cautious, but even that grated against Lucifer’s raw nerves. Michael stepped closer, reaching out a hand to his trembling brother. “It’s just a star. You’ll—”

“Just a star?!” Lucifer’s voice exploded, sharp and cutting as he turned on Michael, his golden eyes blazing with fury. He shoved Michael back, his hands trembling. “Of course, you’d say that! Of course, you’d think it’s just a star, because nothing I care about ever matters to you!”

Michael’s face tightened in confusion, then frustration. “That’s not fair, Lucifer—”

“Fair?” Lucifer’s laugh was bitter, jagged. “That’s so like you, Michael. So alpha of you! You think you know better, you think everything you touch is more important than anything I’ll ever love!”

His wings flared wide, his voice breaking under the weight of his grief and anger.

“Lucifer, stop—” Michael stepped forward again, his tone firmer now, but it only ignited something deeper in Lucifer.

With a guttural cry, Lucifer unleashed a beam of golden magic, so powerful it sent Michael staggering backward, forcing him to retreat. The energy crackled and surged, a raw outpouring of emotion that left the air heavy and charged. When the light faded, Lucifer stood alone, his chest heaving, his hands trembling at his sides.

Without waiting, without thinking, Lucifer fled. His wings carried him blindly into the vast emptiness, golden tears streaking down his face as he flew. He didn’t notice the meteor shower until it was too late. A blazing rock slammed into him, then another, each collision searing through his body like fire. He spiralled downward, his wings failing him as he plummeted through the skies, crashing into Eden with a thunderous impact.

The ground was softer than he expected, but it did little to ease the pain. Groaning, Lucifer pushed himself up, dirt smearing his golden hair and pale skin. He winced as he straightened, clutching his ribs. Around him, Eden stretched out in a way he didn’t recognize. The skies above were a rich blue, streaked with soft, white clouds. The air was warm, alive with the gentle hum of unseen life. The forest around him was lush, vibrant with trees that reached toward the heavens and flowers that swayed in a gentle breeze.

Lucifer sniffled, his tears threatening to spill over again as he dragged himself to his feet. He cradled his arms around himself, his wings drooping behind him as he stumbled forward. Each step felt heavier than the last. The Morningstar was gone. The last piece of light that had felt like home—like his—was gone. He was alone now. Truly, heartbreakingly alone. No one understood him. Not Michael, not Raphael, not Gabriel. They didn’t see him, didn’t care to see him. They only saw an Omega. Something lesser.

Lucifer sniffled, a soft hiccup breaking past his lips as the tears finally began to fall, carving silent trails down his face. His chest heaved with the weight of it all. Why was he the only Omega? Why was he cursed to walk this path alone?

His feet led him instinctively toward the flower bud, the one place he had found comfort. But as the familiar clearing came into view, he froze. His breath hitched, and his heart sank.

The flower bud had bloomed.

Its petals were wide open now, no longer glimmering with the golden veins he had once traced with wonder. They sagged slightly, their vibrant glow dimmed to a pale, lifeless hue. Lucifer stumbled forward, his legs barely holding him as he fell to his knees before it. His trembling hands reached out, brushing against the petals with a soft, desperate touch. But there was no warmth. No pulse. No heartbeat.

“No…” The word slipped out in a choked whisper as Lucifer’s composure crumbled.

He pressed his forehead against the flower, his hands clutching at the limp petals as sobs tore through him. His chest twisted painfully, his wings flaring out behind him as if to shield the flower from the cruel world around them.

“Why?” he cried, his voice breaking into the silence of Eden. “Why is this my fate? Why am I the only one?”

He sobbed harder, his golden tears dripping onto the petals as he pressed soft, trembling kisses to them, willing them to come back to life.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered, his voice cracking with anguish. “It’s not fair…”

Lucifer clung to the flower as though it could anchor him, but the ache in his chest only deepened. He was alone. The Morningstar was gone, and now the flower—the one thing that had brought him solace—was lifeless too. Eden was beautiful, alive, but it felt hollow without the warmth that once filled it.

He buried his face into the petals, his shoulders shaking with the force of his cries. And for the first time in his existence, Lucifer truly felt the weight of what it meant to be alone.

Lucifer's sobs tore through him like jagged shards of glass, his cries raw and unrelenting as his insides seemed to splinter apart. His chest heaved, his fingers clutching at the limp petals of the flower bud as if holding on tightly enough might bring it back to life. His tears fell hot and unbidden, streaking down his cheeks and pooling against the ground of Eden. But then, something cracked behind him—soft, faint, but sharp enough to cut through the haze of his grief.

He froze mid-sob, his breath hitching sharply as his wings stiffened. His heart pounded erratically in his chest. His eyes, rimmed with redness and shimmering with unshed tears, grew wide and sharp with suspicion. Who would follow me here? The thought slithered through his mind, tinged with confusion and anger. The only ones who might dare were—

Lucifer’s jaw tightened as his veins flooded with fury, molten and unrelenting. His wings flared out violently, sending golden flecks scattering through the air like burning embers.

"Those stupid alphas," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice trembling with venom. "They can never just leave me alone!"

The rage coiled tighter, sharper. "All they do is take! Take and take!"

His wings shuddered, their feathers bristling like a storm about to break. He unleashed a powerful gust of wind in the direction of the sound, his magic crackling through the air.

“Go away!” he roared, his voice raw with pain and wrath. “Leave me alone!”

Scrambling to his feet, he bared his teeth, golden light flickering faintly in his moon-bright eyes. His body trembled as fury overtook him, and his voice lowered into a growl, ready to strike—but then he stopped. He froze mid-motion, his wings stilling, his snarl faltering.

It wasn’t an angel.

Before him stood someone—or something—unlike anything he’d ever seen. They didn’t look celestial, no feathers, no glow of heaven’s light. Yet they radiated a presence, soft but breathtakingly new. Their form was bare, unmarked by the hallmarks of an angel, but it was striking. Ethereal. Whole. The figure’s skin shimmered faintly under Eden’s light, a soft luminescence that captivated him.

Lucifer blinked, his lips parting as he whispered in disbelief, “Who… who are you?”

The anger in his chest faded, replaced by something far more profound—a deep tug, familiar yet achingly foreign. He inched forward instinctively, drawn closer by some invisible thread. The closer he got, the clearer the details became: the gentle curve of the figure’s face, the delicate glow of their skin, the way their golden eyes mirrored something that felt painfully, heartbreakingly like his Morningstar.

"Can't you talk?" Lucifer asked softly, tilting his head, his moonlit eyes wide with curiosity. His voice trembled as he reached out, his hands hesitant but unable to stop themselves. His fingers brushed against the figure’s cheek.

The figure gasped audibly, their golden eyes widening with alarm as they tried to pull away. But Lucifer held on, his grip gentle but firm. A strange sense of possession surged through him, anchoring him to this stranger.

"Oh…" Lucifer murmured, his voice breathless, reverent. "Your eyes."

His wings gave an involuntary flutter, and he leaned in, his voice softening into a whisper. "They're like my Morningstar…”

The stranger’s mouth opened, a sound escaping that was barely a word, and then they stumbled backward, tripping over their own feet. They tumbled to the ground in a flurry of limbs, and Lucifer blinked in surprise, his anger melting into something softer. Something he couldn’t name. He laughed—a true, unrestrained sound that bubbled up from deep within him, foreign and strange to his ears. It startled him, this laugh, but it felt… good. It felt like a reprieve.

The figure tried to scramble away, but Lucifer followed, crawling forward on his hands and knees as if tethered to them. His golden dust glimmered brighter the closer he got, trailing like starlight in his wake. The stranger backed against a tree, their knees pulled up defensively, but Lucifer didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His chest felt as if it might collapse from the need to be closer.

“Lucifer.” A calm, steady voice broke the moment, and he froze, glancing up with a pout. His eyes narrowed.

“Metatron.”

The towering archangel descended gracefully, her wings shimmering in Eden’s sun as she landed before him. Her gaze shifted from Lucifer to the stranger pressed against the tree.

“I see,” she murmured, a faint smile playing on her lips. “So it has been decided.”

Lucifer blinked, tilting his head. “Decided?”

But even as he asked, he was already stepping around Metatron, trying to get closer to the figure again. His hands itched to touch, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t yet form.

“Metatron, move. I want to see them.”

Metatron sighed, spreading her wings wider to block his path. “Lucifer, please. You’ll frighten him.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed, his wings bristling in frustration. “I won’t frighten him!”

His voice cracked slightly, the desperation in his chest bubbling to the surface. “I… I need to… I need to touch him. I need to see him, feel him, I need to be close to him!”

Metatron’s eyebrows rose briefly, but she composed herself quickly, folding her hands as she glanced back at the stranger. “It seems God has chosen you, just as I expected.”

Lucifer paused mid-step, his curiosity flickering into confusion. He tilted his head like a curious bird.

“Chosen me?” he asked, his voice quieter, laced with wonder. “Chosen me for what?”

Metatron turned, her gaze softening as she looked at the trembling figure against the tree.

“Lucifer,” she said gently, “This is Adam. The first human. God has decided that you will be his guardian archangel.”

Lucifer’s wings stilled, his golden magic dimming slightly as the weight of her words sank in. He glanced at Adam—at the way his golden eyes reflected something achingly familiar yet entirely new—and his breath caught. His fingers, trembling and hesitant, hovered inches from Adam’s face again.

“Guardian archangel…” Lucifer repeated, his voice filled with awe and something deeper, something fragile.

Metatron smiled, stepping back to give them space. "You will guide him, Lucifer. Protect him. Teach him."

Lucifer crouched fully before Adam once more, his eyes locking onto the human's. For a moment, the grief over his Morningstar faded, replaced by a quiet sense of wonder.

"Adam," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with something he hadn’t felt in a long time—purpose.

“Hello, my Adam, I am Lucifer. The only person you will ever need.”

[bloodycyrano]

Here's what Team Tadpole would do for you for valentine's day!

Karlach: She would get you the absolute BIGGEST plushie she could find, and chocolates. Post-upgrades, she would cuddle the plushie for a few nights beforehand so it smells like her. She'd probably bring you to a carnival- One that *isn't* infested with shapeshifters this time -and try to take turns winning each other prizes.

Wyll: Wyll Ravengard spares no romantic gesture. He brought you your favorite flowers and decided to take you out dancing! He wanted to finish off the night with a romantic walk on the beach, but Mizora crashed your date, and now the three of you are playing board games because she wouldn't leave- Which Wyll isn't exactly happy about, but he's content as long as he gets to spend time with you.

Gale: Gale would probably make you a home-cooked meal in his tower back at home and absolutely shower you with affection and little magic tricks to dazzle the eyes. He's constantly seeking that approval, so you'd better believe he's going all out.

Halsin: Halsin would take you on a picnic in the prettiest part of the woods he could find, and surprise you with a special wild garden bed of your favorite flowers. He'd also have a whittled duck for you.

Shadowheart: Shadowheart would bring you a single night-blooming flower and a bottle of wine. She'd probably take you somewhere dark and secluded where you could simply spend the night enjoying each other's company, away from the rest of the world.

Astarion: Astarion is happy to do almost anything as long as he's with you. You stopped by his grave to leave flowers- A cute gesture he's likely become accustomed to. Perhaps he takes you out to dinner, or to a play he knows you've been wanting to see, but the real treat is when he takes you back home to cuddle and read together. Horror novels and shocking favorites only.- You wouldn't expect it, but he does voices for the characters if you get him to read out loud. His faked accents are awful, but it's cute.

Ascended Astarion: Awe, you didn't think I'd leave you guys out, did you? So. He's likely to do something flashier. A wine tasting, or maybe take you to get a new outfit tailored to fit you perfectly. It doesn't match anything you'd actually choose to wear, but it paints the perfect picture of the vampire consort trophy spouse he's decided that you are. He keeps setting up little things that you feel are supposed to make you happy, but it's filled with a harsh coldness and an empty stare. You've all but given up hope that the Astarion you know and love is still in there until the night comes to a close, and he brings you home. He's being strangely affectionate and sweet. Cuddly. At first, you take this as a sign of better days - until he won't stop biting you, no matter what you say or do. Eventually, he's taken so much blood that you pass out; and you wake up in your locked chambers alone with a pretty, expensive necklace and roses. No note. It doesn't even matter if roses are your favorite flower or not. He doesn't care.

Lae'zel: She didn't know Valentine's Day was a thing. She can't pronounce it and literally had no idea why everyone was making a big deal about the holiday, etc. She was, however, very surprised when you brought her a gift. She tried to seem uninterested in the whole "mushy, romantic stuff," but you could practically see her heart melt when you made a romantic gesture. You spent the rest of the day together - She probably tried to bring you out hunting or sparring.

Durge: Durge would either give you a mortal heart in a jar or a vial of their own blood, and disturbing poetry they wrote for you. They might try to get you to get matching tattoos with them, but they won't push you if you'd rather not. Aside from that, they might take you to a cemetery or a long lost ruin to bask in the macabre beauty of the space. They'd also bring brownies they made themself.- They were going to pack a picnic, but they didn't want to smother you; and they're really better at baking than they are at cooking.

[ssr-archives]

We Know Her Value

Celebrating Ten Years of Agent Carter

In January 2015, Peggy Carter did something no other female Marvel characters have done at the time: headlining her own show. She strutted onto our screens, knocked out some bad guys with a stapler, and told us to call her “agent”.

In the years since, Peggy, her friends, and the fandom have gone through a lot. We’ve seen the show get cancelled, and Peggy returning, Jarvis returning, Daniel Sousa returning. We tried to #SaveAgentCarter, we held fic exchanges, we cosplayed and Disneybounded, and we created zines. Despite the show’s premature end, these characters stayed in our hearts, and we made sure no one could forget them.

Agent Carter will turn 10 in January 2025. To mark this milestone, I am super excited to collaborate with @peggynet to launch We Know Her Value: Celebrating Ten Years of Agent Carter. Starting from 6th January 2025, the anniversary of the show’s premiere, we will be hosting ten themed days to celebrate ten years of our favourite show. You can join by picking a theme, making a post on that theme, and post it on the theme day. Tag me (@ssrarchives) or @peggynet, and add the tag #AgentCarterTurns10. Your works can be as simple or as elaborate as you like!

I can’t wait to celebrate this momentous anniversary with all of you! Under ‘Read More’, you will find the themes for the ten different days. Hope to see you all then! And if you have any questions, just drop me a line in the ask box or the DMs. 

Day 1: Favourite Character

The show has presented us with a whole host of amazing characters, from Peggy to lab rats and background agents. So…who is your favourite?

Day 2: Favourite Episode

Agent Carter packed a lot into 18 episodes: fights, spy shenanigans, musical numbers, engagements, kisses. Which episode is your favourite? 

Day 3: Favourite Ship

We cannot talk about Agent Carter without talking about the ships, especially not when the cast happily fanned our fandom flames. Whether you are headcanoning any two or three to be passionately involved, or you have the one true friendship that does it for you, what is your favourite relationship on the show? 

Day 4: Favourite Scene/Arc

From Peggy threatening a fellow diner with a fork, to Daniel flopping his five-episode relationship, Agent Carter packed many interesting scenes and arcs into the overall spy shenanigans. Do any of these scenes or arcs stand out to you? 

Day 5: Favourite Cast/Crew Moment

Time to look behind the scenes! Once the episodes were over, the cast and crew kept the party going, from the Stark Jar to on-set pranks to the legendary Dubsmash War. Do you have a favourite cast/crew moment? 

Day 6: Into the Multiverse

Even though the show was cancelled in 2016, that was not the last we saw of Peggy and her team. Peggy herself returned over and over again, eventually becoming one of the few mortals privy to the knowledge of Loki and the Sacred Timeline tree. Jarvis returned in Avengers: Endgame, becoming the first Marvel character to debut on TV and move on to a movie appearance. Even Daniel made a return in Agents of SHIELD Season 7. Which of these cameos were your favourite? Who do you want to see in future MCU projects?

Day 7: Containment Breach

There is a life for everyone outside of murder gases and space goop. Since the end of Agent Carter, the cast and crew continue to entertain us with excellent projects. From Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning to Resident Alien to The Merry Gentlemen, we have definitely not seen the last of our favourite agents. Have you watched any of these? Do you have a favourite? Do they inspire any AUs? 

Day 8: Favourite Fanfic

What is Agent Carter without its fandom? From SSR Confidential to Agent Carter Zine, from fandom-defining multi-chapter behemoths to short and sweet ficlets, the fic writers have not been resting at all. This is your chance to shout out your favourite fics!

Day 9: Favourite Fanart

Artists we haven’t forgotten you! The Agent Carter fandom is home to many talented artists who have graced our dashboards with everything from sketches to whole comics. Let’s share our appreciation by naming our favourite fanart/artist! (Please do not repost artwork unless you have consent from the artists. Otherwise, please reblog or link to the original artwork. Let’s make sure that the artists get the notes and credits they deserve.)

Day 10: Free Day

There is way more going on in the Agent Carter show and fandom for us to cover in one week, so like the title says, take this day to highlight whatever you want! The show’s costume and makeup? Meta writers? Peggy cosplays and Disneybounds? As long as it is Agent Carter-related, you can post about it!

[curseofhyperfixation]

hi! i love your art! wanted to ask what are the archivists names? and their personalities? does kepler live with them? shes a blorbo

hope you have a cool night!

Oh well here there's reference sheet! :D

(More information below)

Sirius the Archivist  

Is the eldest of the siblings in both terms of mental and physical age.

Sirius is incredibly reliable and responsible out of all his siblings and tends to be the main reason keeping the family together, especially post-titan war.

A workaholic who focuses too much on their work.

Favored by The Council, Sirius uses it to give his siblings more freedom and control than what their species would usually give.

The one who adopted Collector when they were born. But, wasn't as present in their years of growing up due to their role as the Head Archivist.

Was the one who told Collector to play with the Titans.

Sirius made a contract with the Titan Trappers.

_

Borealis the Naturalist

The second oldest of the siblings only being born a few decades after Sirius.

Despite being equally as strong as their eldest sibling, their inability to control their emotions hinders them from properly using it.

Being one of the siblings (Excluding Collector) to have emotions similar to that of mortals.

Borealis show favoritism towards their youngest and hypocritical towards their own beliefs and morals.

Didn't participate in the Titan war.

Had attempted to completely put the planet of the Isles into a complete ice age.

_

Ouroboros the Architect

The third oldest sibling.

They lack any emotions or feelings but understand what those are.

They create personas that would match their sibling's personalities.

Collector’s favorite sibling.

Would play games with Collector that often lead to damages of exoplanets that they later on fix.

Was a key factor in the reason the Trappers accepted the contract with Sirius.

Influence Collector’s view of mortals as nothing but a toy they can entertain themselves with.

Was born from the collapsing of a black hole.

_

Circe the Researcher

The fourth oldest of the siblings

Would keep Collector away from their Archives due to what lies inside of it.

Used the corpses of Titans to get a better understanding of their anatomy and magic.

Is fascinated by the ecosystem that has grown from the corpse of the Titans.

Shows great curiosity towards the Titan species.

Was disappointed that the species had to be wiped out due to the possibility of becoming an annoyance to them.

Has souvenirs from the war in the archives.

_

Gabriel the Collector

The youngest of the siblings.

Bothers all his siblings when they’re working.

Keeps releasing all the fuzzy creatures archived in Borealis section.

Is hyperactive and tends to ignore his sibling’s advice.

 Has jars of shiny rocks.

Was found by Sirius when they were born.

Often cause trouble to get their sibling’s attention. (It always works)

Claustrophobic from being trapped inside a tablet.

Misses their titan friends.

_

Wolly is somewhere sleeping :D

(Thanks for reading!)